Dr. Creepen's Dungeon - S6 Ep309: Episode 309: Weirdest Ever Horror Stories

Episode Date: January 20, 2026

Tonight’s first terrifying tale is ‘The Night Things’, a wonderful story Densu Kishaa, kindly shared with me via Dr. Crepen’s Vault and narrated here for you all with the author’s express permission: https://www.reddit.com/user/DensuKishaa/ Today’s next tale of terror is ‘The Heart Collector’, an original story by K.B. Hurst AKA Black Friday’s Witch, kindly shared with me and narrated here for you all with the author’s kind permission. https://preternaturalclubgirl.blog/2020/02/13/heart-collector/  Today’s third tale of the macabre is ‘The Fear Test’, an original story by TBP420, kindly shared with me via the Dr. Creepen sub-reddit and narrated here for you all with the author’s kind permission.https://www.reddit.com/user/TBP420/''The Yellow Walls'' is our first tale of terror; an original story by Aritra Majumdar. http://www.creepypasta.com/the-yellow-walls/ Our next two tales of the macabre are ''The Cable Box'' and ''The Suit'' by Malcolm Teller. https://www.reddit.com/r/libraryofshadows/comments/6aps29/the_cable_box https://www.reddit.com/r/libraryofshadows/comments/6b2c31/the_suit Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/Malcolmtellerfiction  Twitter: https://www.twitter.com/malcolmteller Tumblr (Story Archive): http://malcolmteller.tumblr.com We round off tonight’s proceedings with ''Death vs Dr. Singh''by Sin Crow 7:  https://www.reddit.com/r/libraryofshadows/comments/6i7uhu/death_versus_doctor_singh_death_contest

Oh, hey, how's it going? Amazing. I just finished paying off all my debt with the help of the Credit Counseling Society. Whoa, seriously? I could really use their help. It was easy. I called and spoke with a credit counselor right away. They asked me about my debt, salary, and regular expenses,

give me a few options, and help me along the way. You had a ton of debt. And you're saying Credit Counseling Society helped with all of it? Yep. And now I can sleep better at night. When Debt's got you, you've got us. Give Credit Counseling Society a call today. Visit no more debts.org.

Welcome to Dr. Creepin's Dungeon. We tend to regard weird or unfamiliar things as dangerous because our minds are wired to treat uncertainty as a threat. When something doesn't fit our expectations, when it behaves strangely looks wrong, resists easy explanation. It bypasses logic and triggers instinct. For most of human history, the unknown often was lethal. Unfamiliar sounds in the dark, unknown illnesses, outsiders with unreadable intentions. The ancient survival reflex still lives in us. Weirdness disrupts patterns and pattern-breaking feels like loss of control.

Horror exploits this perfectly, turning the slightly off-kilter into something menacing, as we shall see in tonight's collection of stories. Now, as ever before we begin, a word of caution. Tonight's tales may contain strong language as well as descriptions of violence or horrific imagery. That sounds like your kind of thing. Then let's begin. I was born in a barn alongside my siblings. I remember warm hay in my mother's soft fur.

Mother said I was always the brave one. I was first to venture from the safety of her side, first to try my skills on my siblings, first to make an attempt on the foolish mouse that showed himself on the flat dirt of our home. I was also the first to challenge the male tabby that came to Mother some days. I hissed and growled at the stranger, and Mother came immediately to my side. She swatted me and called me foolish for challenging such a large cat. Then she nuzzled me and said I had the heart of a lion. She called me Lionheart and took me home to my siblings.

I was so proud that I strutted about and tried to pounce on my eldest brother. He laughed at my squeaking attempts to roar, and they all ganged up on me. But I was brave and was the first that mother named. One night the wind howled and banged at our door. The rafters shuddered under the heavy rain as it drove down from the dark, sky. That night Mother told us that one day our human would come. He would bring with him new humans who would take us and give us new homes. She said that the new humans would be our family, that they would care for us and we in turn must protect them from the night things. When I remember

her words, I feel the cold air as it bit into my small body. Her eyes shone as she warned us of the night things. They were colder than the air in the barn as she said. spoke. It made me shiver with fear, but I was Lionheart, I was brave. As my siblings burrowed deep into Mother's side, only I sat before her and listened. She said that each night the night things would come. They were prowled through the dark and only we, the protectors of our homes, would be able to fend them all. At first when we were brought to our new homes, they would not come. Only when they'd satisfied themselves. that we were truly there to stay.

Only when our new home was truly ours, will the night things come. I didn't question, Mother, then. Only later did I wonder. They're never too loud or deeply, whether night things would only come when we claimed our homes. What were they?

What did they do? And what did they want? I didn't find out that night, nor the next year, nor the year after that. It wasn't until many, many years later. but I finally had my answers. Mother was right, of course. How a human did come.

He came with a young man and a young woman. They brought two little girls with them, and the little girls immediately ran to us. My siblings hid in the dark corners of the barn, but I was Lionheart, and I was scared of nothing. Though my body quivered and my heart raced. I stood my ground, didn't hiss or bite, as the bigger girl scooped me up into her arms.

She squealed loudly and raced back to her parents to show me off. Her parents laughed and nodded and I knew then that I would never see my mother nor my siblings again. I struggled to look back at them one last time. She sat tall and regal in the sunlit door of the bar, her glossy grey and white fur shimmering in the sunlight. Her green eyes shimmered too, full of love and pride and sadness. I was Lionart, I would not cry. A little human girl carted me away, but I knew I would have a better life.

I knew this was the way it had to be. I knew because mother had told me this. I'd never forget the look in mother's eyes as she watched me go, not ever. The ride to my new home was horrible. My stomach ate as the car rocked and I felt sick. The little girl clutched me tight to her lap and whispered soft words as she stroked my fare. helped a little. I'd never really been petted much at the barn. Occasionally the human man would come with extra fast food and hesitantly rub our heads or backs, but I'd never felt much for him

or his half-hearted pets. But the little girl sheltered me in the dark folds of her dress and spoke to me the entire way to my new home. I'd be okay. I was Lionheart and I like being petted by this little human girl. At first the new sights and smells of the house overwhelmed me the little girl set me on the floor and i rang for cover there was so much new here so much unknown i cowered beneath the couch and shivered mother had warned us but i couldn't have known how strange a new home would be at first the little girl had tried to coax me from beneath my hiding spots but after my stubborn refusal the bigger humans scolded the girl and i left me be well i I slept for a time, but then I grew curious.

I was in a whole new world, and I needed to find out what was in it. The smell of food also helped. It took some getting used to, but in the next couple of days, I found myself growing to really like my new home. I was settling in, but in the back of my mind, my mother's warning has never left me. At night I would creep through the house, looking for the mysterious night things. It was on the third night that I saw my first one. I was nosing around the kitchen, smelling the human's dinner from earlier that night, and I heard the faint sound of a step.

Ear's alert, I listened more intently. It was too soft for a human. They were loud and clumsy. The soft step sounded again. Had it feet and claws on the hard wood of the living room. Cautiously I crept towards the sound. Another step. I stought into the room, peeking around the corner, trying to see what had invaded my new home.

It was there, just below the window, dark shadows swirling around a small four-legged creature. It was smooth-skinned with long dark claws and fangs. His tail swished, and I wondered if it sensed me yet. It smelled of rain and wet leaves, of darkness and mold. I moved silently towards the thing, watching it as it lowered itself to the floor and snuck forward again. This was not like the play stalking of my siblings in the barn. It wasn't like chasing the toy mouse the little human girl tossed for me.

This was serious business. I'd protect my home from this abomination. My heart beat like a drum in my tiny chest. But power filled my muscles and I spared from my hiding spot behind a posth planted plant. Well, the night thing turned to me as I leapt atop it. My claws unsheathed, sank deeply into its soft flesh. I bit at its neck and latched on to what I could only hope was its jugular. It struggled and writhed under my small body, trying to bring its own claws to bed. But I was a lionheart, and I would not let up. We struggled a moment longer before the coppery taste of its dark blood filled my

mouth just a moment more and it grew still I held my grip until I was certain it had perished and I let go and stood back reviewing my kill with pride mother would be proud too I was sure then the night thing began to dissolve whips of dark smoke rose from his body in tendrils that reach for the ceiling in seconds it had faded away into nothingness I was satisfied. The house would be safe tonight. Each night thereafter, the night things would come. There would slide through the screened windows, flit through the cracks in the doors, and sometimes even rise through the floors of the kitchen. Each night I would stalk and dispose of them.

It was easy work, and I was proud to give back to my family. I'd watch the corpse of the night thing turned vaporous and melt into the dark. Then I'd curl up next to my human girl, and purr in their ears. They would sleepily stroke my grey coat, and I drift away to pleasant dreams. I protected them, and I loved them, though I never forgot my mother. I would think of her sometimes when I was alone,

and my family was off doing their own things. I'd remember her warmth against my small body, and the joy of chasing my siblings, but in the end I didn't regret my choices or my fate. My life in the house was pleasant for the most part. The humans doated on me with toys and delicious food. Sometimes they get angry and shout when I leapt onto the table or stole a mouthful of food from their plates. But when I came to them with a purr in my chest and rubbed them for pets,

they would sigh and succumb to my bribes of love. Soon enough, the years began to pass. I found more often than not that my joints would ache and my bones throb as the winter's set. in. When the house grew warmer and my girls grew tall, I grew too tired to play the games that I used to. The years were good to me, though, and I savoured every one of them. I'd sit and watch the families as they went about their lives. As we lived and loved one another, I was a silent observer of their joys and a comforter in their sorrows. And when the nights came, they were tucked away in their beds, I would hunt. And though when I was young and spry, it was as simple as

breathing, the years took their toll. I found it more and more difficult to patrol the nights. I was stiff and tired. It was harder to catch my breath afterwards. I was growing too old for the hunt. Each night I would curl up to sleep with worry on my mind. I knew I couldn't protect the family forever. But what would happen when I inevitably failed? I didn't know. Whatever did happen, though, I would stand my ground and bear my teeth on those night things. I would defy them and stand on. So I held my head high during the nights and pushed on. The years wore me down as age does.

Through blurry eyes I hunted, through aching and protesting bones I prevailed. But the night things kept coming. It became a struggle to rouse my weary body every evening. But I would go as long as I could. I was Lionardt and I would not let my family down. I would give them every last breath of my life. Finally, the night came when I could give no more. I heard a whisper of movement as it approached my resting spot upon a chair in the living room,

soft paws padding on carpet. I opened my eyes to peer at my phone. It was a shadow amongst shadows. Once I might have seen it clearly but now it was a dim shape. I sighed and tried to stand, but my legs failed me. So I was completely surprised when the night thing leapt up beside me. I blinked at it and then my heart quickened. Soft grey and white fur came into focus and she rubbed her warm face against mine.

Her purr was a salve to my aching body and soul. I closed my eyes as her weight settled against me. Her memory had faded with time, but I knew her scent as it filled my nose. I could never truly forget it. So it was, with my mother beside me, that I took my last breath. The heart collector.

Ravenous rain tore up the dirt road that led to the house at the end of High Grove Street. The mud seemed to have ripples in it, and hidden beneath the wood. water were puddles leading to east satiric holes that went straight to the depths of hell. The tires to my run-down Chevy found them often, and the rain had lasted days. It was the beginning of February, but felt like spring. I'd watched the house across from me on High Grove Street for months now, out of mere curiosity.

I moved here in April of last year after a nasty divorce from my wife, Hitler, as I called her, because she was merciless. Oh, that woman took me for everything except my belly buttonfice. My ex-wife Sarah, who I met in college, was a superior sculpture and a bit of an artistic genius. I was a landscape architect, and I thought we were forever until she met someone new. Sarah no longer had room for me in her heart, a heart that was now frozen to the core. She grew hateful towards me, and I towards her. Well, I had to face my own reality.

I was never good enough for her. I was too skinny, too old, too boring. It needed to dye my hair from grey to brown. I'd look younger if I'd just shave off my long, bushy beard, and so during the divorce, I put up a good fight only to piss her off. I made it difficult for her because I wanted the house that was in my name, and I wanted the old collection of baseball cards her father had given me.

My ex-wife wanted me to be without everything, and I was having none of it. Well, I may have gone too far on a couple of occasions. We were still sharing the house in shifts because I worked nights, and then one day when she was at work, I had all the locks changed. Yep, it was a dick move, but I wouldn't let her in the house until she gave me back some of my concert t-shirts that she claimed she'd tossed out by accident.

Sarah took them on purpose and stored them in her new boyfriend's basement. She'd done it to get back at me for telling her she looked like she put on wait since she met her new boyfriend. I asked if she was pregnant. I know it was pretty shitty in all, but I was angry. She got pissed off and the next thing I knew, half of my stuff was missing. Well, according to Hitler, I'd done things to her, which were all made up. I thought it was funny because the accusations were outlandish. Not once did she mention all of the things she'd done to me. Sarah put on an excellent performance for the judge that granted the restraining order.

Sarah claimed I stalked her, showing up in places that she was going to, untrue, and that I poisoned her cat, Charles. I had done no such thing. Poor old Charlie was on his last legs long before she decided she wanted no part of me or my limp dick, as she put it so nicely. The so-called porn charges on her credit card in the thousands of dollars, also untrue. Besides, I had a soft spot for old child. the cat. He had to live with her. Well, he wasn't living anymore, I guess, now, was he? A blessing for old Charles.

Well, everything could have been explained away, like the pawn charges, I mean, Hitler lost her wallet a month before on the subway. Someone probably stole her credit card, but, well, it had to be me, right? There were other random things, like a missing flower pot that she'd sculpted on her front porch. Neighborhood kids playing pranks at Halloween. knives in the kitchen. Now I will confess I took the knives because I paid for them, but her new boyfriend was a cop. Convenient, wasn't it? My curiosity about the old man across the street kept me from going completely insane and on a murderous rampage, especially when I saw the latest in her list of complaints. Recently there came a notice from Hitler's lawyer asking me to return her family photos that I'd apparently stolen immediately.

Well, if I had stolen them, what makes that bitch think I was going to give them back to her anyhow? I mean, I'd so much just caught her in bed with the cop. That was my fault, too, I suppose. I couldn't give her children, so she claimed she fell out of love with me because I could no longer give her the life she'd always dreamt of. She was probably already knocked up by a cop-boyfriend. Too bad she can't marry him. If she marries him, she stops getting that alimony.

One thing my lawyer wasn't completely shit about doing on me. my behalf. Most lawyers are shit, though. Greedy sons of bitches that would sacrifice their own mothers to hell if it meant winning a crucial case, especially if money was involved. To say I was hateful was an understatement. I hated everyone that had ever lived and I hated everything that had ever existed. Well, except for the old man across the street. There was a fascinating fellow. He kept to himself and didn't gossip or interfere. Unlike my previous name, he was. He was a fascinating who like to call the cops if even they remotely thought I was raising my voice to Hitler. So, to pass the time, I spent my free time watching him.

He was a peculiar old fellow, and he led her left except on Thursdays. I worked from home, so I saw everything. He had deliveries made to his house and took things in by a little wheelbarrow. I wondered what an earth he could be building in there. The items he brought in were all the things you might find at a doubt. doctor's office, empty jars, glasses, beakers, pieces of cloth, other things like a balance, a rundown mini-refrigerator, boxes and boxes of rubber gloves. It was always interesting seeing what he would bring in. I was watching it out of my window when I realized I was running

late for my doctor's appointment. I was now required to attend court-ordered therapy with a psychologist by the name of Dr. Burns. This would be our very first chat since the restraining order, which Hitler said she would have stopped if I'd see a professional, and of course my dipshit attorney agreed with her attorney. And so I found myself sitting in the waiting room with another guy that looked like he was a potential serial killer. I tried not to look at him, but he was staring at me wide-eyed, unwaveringly. I tried to take my mind off the fact I was here and the fact that the guy was so transfixed on me. So, that's when I got the bright idea that maybe I should call my ex-wife to set the record straight about her family photos. It had really been bothering me.

I thought he'd be a good idea to let her know that I was at my court-ordered therapy. I was shocked when she answered. What on earth could you possibly want, David? You have a restraining order, yet that doesn't seem to stop you from bothering me. Do I need to call the cocks? I wanted to tell you I'm at the therapist's office. So? I thought you'd like to know I'm being. I'm being agreeable with you, and to let you know I didn't take your family photos. Why on earth would I do that anyhow, Sarah? I'm glad you're seeing a therapist. I also note that you're only there because of the restraining order,

which, by the way, is for your own good. My own good? You're the one that was fucking that cop behind my back. What? Did you expect me to be cordial? She sighed. I'm not allowed to talk to you, David. I have to go. No. Why do you think I did all those things? You know I'm not like that.

I found myself raising my voice again. Well, out of this time. Why do you think anything... Why do you do anything that you've done in the last year? To torture me? Let's be honest. You don't play with a full deck any mill because you're sick, David. You need to get some help and move on with your life. Pretty convenient. You have your life now, and I'm the one sick. I didn't hear getting therapy. You're the crazy bitch that told all those lies about me. I'm hanging up now.

Please never call me again. Sarah, you know I didn't do those things. Well, I know you have those photos. I saw you put the box in your car when you broke in and stole them. I have a security camera set up in the family room for this very reason. Watch yourself because I would hate to see you go to jail. What would your life be like then? life to be like then? Oh, well, so that cop boyfriend's helping you. You didn't see shit, Sarah.

You didn't see shit. I realized I was screaming into the phone when my doctor came into the hallway to see what the commotion was. She'd hung up in the middle of my tirade. David Simmons, I saw Dr. Burns standing there looking at me. She was an older woman with soft gray hair pulled back in a bun. I took a deep breath, looking around the room, feeling the eyes of everyone watching me. I lowered my head and nodded at. I'm sorry, I said sheepishly. Please come in. I followed her into her office so she could trick me into telling her all of my deep, dark secrets, but I was smarter than she was. I wouldn't be telling her anything. Do you want to start by discussing what that little outburst was in the waiting room.

No, I said. Look, I'm really sorry about that. I didn't mean to upset anyone. Just having a bad day, I guess. Do you have a lot of bad days? No, not really. Deep breath, then. Dr. Burns smiled at me.

I'd appreciate it in the future if you'd hold off on those types of outbursts when you're in my office. I have colleagues with other patients. Dr. Burns is told, was tender and empathetic. I didn't dislike her and I found myself talking to her

even though I didn't want to. I guess it was nice to speak to a woman that wasn't Hitler. Someone that didn't put me down and make me feel like shit like I was some kind of loser. So, um, you like to garden? I asked her,

looking at all the plants and plant-related books in her office. She smiled warmly at me. It's a hobby of mine. Do you have any hobbies? No. Not really. Well, what sort of things do you like to do?

I, um, watch people. She took a deep breath and looked at me, puzzled. How do you mean? Oh, I'm not weird. I bet you get a shit ton of weirdos, like that guy in the waiting room. I bet he molests kids. Real freak that guy. He stared at me the whole time I was out there waiting on you.

Oh, I'm not saying you're weird. everyone can be weird sometimes maybe the man in the waiting room was just staring at you because you were screaming maybe she made sense I thought so you like to watch people how do you watch people

well not stalk not like Hitler I mean my wife my ex-wife says I do I mean I don't know to learn from them you know there's this fellow that lives across the street from me. I found him really interesting. Why do you find him interesting? Well, he keeps to himself.

He's always tinkering around his place, you know, building shit. He's a little fellow, but he gets around if you know what I mean. Have you ever tried talking to him? No, I don't think he'd really have much to say. Perhaps you could talk to him about what he's building, tell him you admire people like that. Start off with a compliment and go from that. Okay Feels like I'm trying to ask him on a date That doesn't mean you're asking him out on a date Anytime you meet someone new

It's going to be a brief period of trying to get to know them It takes practice Dr Burns smiled at me I guess that makes sense Well David Our time's up for today But by our next appointment in two weeks I'd like you to reach out to him to say hello

or ask him over for a beer. Rebuilding positive human interactions is crucial to healing. You've been through a lot. You mean the divorce and the restraining order? All change causes grief. Just start small. Say hello and see where that takes you. The hour went by so quickly,

and I left feeling better than I had in a long time. Dr. Bernshaw had a funny way to make you feel like she wasn't a therapist at all. She was more like a friend. Maybe that was the point of a therapist. It could be your imaginary friend so that you had someone to talk to. I mean, you paid them to speak to you, or in my case, the court page rate. When I got home, I cracked open a beer and sat down in my recliner. I turned on my television and tried to zone out.

I was halfway into a rerun of some old episode of Alfred Hitchcock Presents when there was a loud bang. I thought I heard someone screaming. Sitting up in my chair I put my beer down I looked out of the window there seemed to be a flashing light coming from the old man's house

I went outside and I heard it again someone was in distress I walked over towards the old man's driveway and I heard moaning a flashlight was rolling around in a circle and the old man appeared to have fallen

there was glass everywhere and it was covered in a green liquid I stepped out over the glass and went to help the old man up. Did this count as an official meet and greet? Well, I laughed to myself, thinking about what Dr. Burns might say in her relaxing voice. A meeting is still a meeting, I imagined her saying to me. Hey, it looks like you took a nasty fall. Let me help you up. The old man was still moaning, he seemed tired and out of breath. Once I helped him stand,

he seemed all right enough to walk into his house. His door was still wide open and so. I helped him to an old Victorian sofa. He took an audible breath and pointed towards a small table. I looked up and saw a cup, grabbed it and handed it to him. He smacked his lips together. Thank you.

Oh, he was nothing. It was good thing I was here. Looks like you took a smack to your head. I'll be okay. I'm more concerned with the mess in the driveway. I can get that for you. It's no problem at all. Oh, no, no, I'll tend to it late.

really I have a broom in a bucket no he was stern and his word was final for a small man he had a presence about him he required respect to which I provided willingly okay do you need anything else I'm Dave by the way thank you Dave I'm Boris I grin wide thinking how Dr Burns would be so proud of me when I told her exactly what I'd done maybe I get the restraining order to stop sooner than later. Possibly someday I'd be able to repair the relationship with Sarah. Try to make it right. Well, real pleasure, Boris, I said, sitting down across him in an old chair.

It didn't occur to me that that might be bad manners. I looked around the room and there were strange collections of things. On his mantle was a giant fish skeleton. He'd made a lamp of finger bones and on the coffee table was a bowl. filled with a coiled snake skeleton. There were insects in frames all over his walls and taxidermist's material scattered throughout. It wasn't cluttered or messy,

and everything had its place inside of his home. The stuffed crows that were lined up his tall wall created a murder frozen in mid-flight. Their eyes seemed to be alive as they watched me from their black metallic gaze. I forgot myself staring at his collection of odd things, and it wasn't until he coughed that I remembered my place. Oh, my hobby is of oddities, Boris said in a raspy voice.

How long have you been a collector of oddities? I asked him, unable to take my eyes away from all of the little quirks. There was something oddly beautiful about them. There was a love in them that made it hard to be weirded out by these dead things. As long as humans have existed. I chuckled at his elder humour and awkwardly could tell my time was up. It wasn't anything that was said, but I got a strange feeling my presence was no longer welcome. So I stood and big goodbye to Boris, with plans to check on his well-being the next day. I entered my home after my visit with the elderly gentleman, whose name I knew now was Boris. I felt strangely tired, and for the first time in a long time, but peace. I slept for the first time in ages, and I even had pleasant dreams.

I was living with Sarah again. so happy and we had a newborn baby. I was pushing the baby in a stroller and I'd leaned in to see our child when I woke at the sound of birds before I could see my child's face in my dream. I shouted and when I looked at the old man in the mirror I decided I didn't want to adopt the grizzly Adams look anymore. It took me nearly 30 minutes but I managed to find my electric razor. I trimmed my long beard to crop it against my face and I shave the hair off my my head into a crew cut. I looked myself quite satisfied with my new improved look. I cut most of the grey hair off my face and underneath. It was mostly the reddish brown colour that

defined me as a man of 39. I shouted and dressed like someone that could rejoice in polite society. I made a cup of coffee for myself. I made a second one. I had a splash of cream to both cups. and made my way over to the home of my new friend Boris. I knocked on the front door. It took the old man a few minutes, but he eventually answered. He opened the door, saying nothing, and just waved me in. For me? he asked, grinning at the second cup of coffee. I wasn't sure if you like cream.

If you want more, I have some at home. Not necessary, thank you. Suppose you're here to check up on me. Yeah, I laughed. You took a big hit to your head. How are you feeling? Oh, like new after a comfy night's sleep. He slurped the coffee I'd handed him, and he sat on his couch. I stood awkwardly, trying to think of something intelligent to say, when he began to speak again.

Oh, I liked the new look, the shave and the haircut. I better suited to it. You look a bit younger, too. Thanks, I said, feeling comfortable enough now to sit across from him. You're curious as to why I have so many weird things. I can tell by the look on your face. I guess, I mean, well, isn't every day you meet someone with such eclectic tastes? Everything in this world has its place. I'm one of those men that appreciates all of it.

Life, death, tragedy, blossoming, and disgust. Even the dead eyes of a crow, I find soothing. I've always been a clector of such finery. I never was much of a collector, but... My dad liked to collect baseball cards. Is that so? Boris laughed blindly. Well, I guess, but I never saw the point.

Well, there's a power in owning a piece of history or someone's memories. I nodded and continued looking around the room. Well, I had the collection of baseball cards, but my ex-wife took them. Nasty divorce that never seems to end. You married for a long time? No, I said, feeling like a lot of. I was under a microscope. It felt uncomfortable and it was the first time someone other than a court-appointed physician showed any interest in me. We were only married for five years. Why'd you

divorce? My ex said I'd changed. Sarah was the one that changed. She was suddenly some famous sculptor and always had some sort of event. She stopped coming home as much, got a new set of fancy friends, started sleeping with some cock. There was a bitterness in my tone, and I could feel my eyes growing black, thinking about her. Oh, I wished I could incinerate her and that cop. I see you. By any chance is your ex-wife the one who sculpted that exhibit downtown of Pellet. Yeah, two years ago in April. I believe that's when things started changing. He smiled and nodded. You might help him with something? Boris asked, standing. No, not at all. I have some boxes that need to be moved from my trunk. I made it home last night, but as you know, I didn't go as

planned. You look sturdy enough. I helped him carry the first box, although I wasn't sure why he needed my help. There were only three smaller boxes, and none of them weighed very much. I carried them inside and had me follow him to the basement. The basement wasn't as tidy as the other parts of the house. It seemed cluttered with utensils that looked scientific in nature. I looked around and saw there was another room off to the side. There was a light illuminating out of it, beckoning to me. I stacked the boxes on a work table and Boris began to move some items from them. He wasn't paying any attention to me as he seemed to be enjoying the contents he was pulling from the packages.

Ah, I've waited for these for some time, he muttered to himself. I found myself walking towards the room, and then I opened the door, which didn't even make so much as a creak. What I saw nearly made me ill, but there was something that gave me that feeling of utter amazement. On display shelves with track lighting were beautiful glass jars. inside them all was a green liquid that seemed to make them glow inside each one of them was a glowing flame red heart my mouth dropped open as i was looking around the room there were hundreds of them below each was a name and what looked like a job title i was confused and then remembering myself i turned back to look at boris ah you found me out Boris chuckled. Are these pig hearts, I asked, showing my immediate stupidity? Human.

How? Why? Don't doctors need these for donations? How would you get them? So many of them? Each one is actually quite special to me. Not illegal, at least. Not where I come from.

Why? Each one is a genius of different talent. profession, most never recognised by the world. Boris walked me over to a wall with an enlarged heart, pointing to the description under it. It's so big. Was he a giant? I can't believe what my eyes were showing me. Boris had to have been conned by some dark websites selling them on the black market. God, there were no way these were real. His name was Marco Giovanni. He lived in Sicily and died at each 19. By the registers, he was ten feet tall. He weighed nearly three hundred pounds. His overgrown heart is actually what would have killed him if I hadn't found him

and saved him from a fate worse than death. I stood unmoved in awe. Boris watched me as I looked around the room and my eyes settled on another name. That is Esmeralda Ankeman. She is a world famous jealous. Next to her was Raymond Woolworth. He invented an instrument that saved the entire world when there was no looking. Next to him is a famous Olympian. I looked at the names and the years, because some of them there were from 152 BC. The name of that person's heart said, Leonidas of Rhodes. He was a famous sprinter that had more successful victories than anyone in modern times.

He died and I ensured I procured his heart immediately upon his death. I laughed The whole Boris was off his rocker Oh I'm serious His eyes grew cold Okay, okay if you say so I don't think you understand young man I've been collecting these since the beginning of time

I smiled and backed away from him Turning towards the door It shut on me before I could exit I felt an earer sensation and I saw a glow of light appear before my eyes. In it I began to see a movie playing out of the light. It was of a naked man sprinting past other men. The next scene was of a man dreaming of the world exploding from an asteroid in space. He woke and immediately began working on a secret weapon to keep asteroids from hitting the earth. The calendar on his wall said

1901. More images came through as if each heart spoke to me independently of one another. There was another image, the last. It was of Boris, who was sitting across from a man at a table. He looked as though he had too much to drink and was crying. Boris smiled, holding out his hand. The man took Boris's hand. Are you sure? Boris was asking him. My life is over, the man was saying. Boris then reached out to the man as an orb of light erupted from his chest. It was alien in appearance as it left his chest and into Boris's greedy eyes. As he took the heart, he smelled it.

There was an element of electricity that entered his nostrils and went down into his chest, settling inside of where his own heart would be. Boris stood up in my vision and straightened up. He looked a bit younger too, walking out of the bar, leaving the dead man there. And then the room went dark, and the living picture shows of Boris and the other people were now gone. My eyes were wet, and I felt hot and sweaty. I've heard a soft hand touched me gently on the shoulder. It is true, Borisite.

Why do they do it? Each one had a life of tragedy. The combination is not ideal, but the source of their sorrow feeds me. I take away their pain. I do not ask if they'll give their lives to me. All of them do so willingly. All of them. Every man and woman has at one time a death wish.

It's my job to grant it. You set there with the hearts of geniuses. Are all geniuses predisposed to suicidal tendencies? There are times when it can be too much, knowing so much, accomplishing so much, having so much responsibility, the better you are at something, the more is expected of you. Well, I thought about it, and it made sense. My new friend had gifts, and he now trusted me with a very dark secret. Boris was an angel of death.

The door opened, and the fresh air refreshed me. "'You hungry?' Boris asked me. I nodded. I was starving, actually. "'There's a great place in town, called Denny's.' He laughed. I laughed, too. It was funny that someone like Boris could enjoy a chain restaurant like Denny's. He sat in a booth, waiting for our orders. I was so hungry, would have ordered the entire menu if I could afford it.

So, tell me more about your relationship with your ex-y. he asked, sipping on his tea. She wanted children. We tried everything, and it never worked out. Just as well. Not everyone's meant to carry such a burden. It's the main reason she didn't want to be with me. Don't take this the wrong way, young man.

But I think she sounds like a rather selfish person. Most geniuses are. I idol Boris when he called Sarah a genius. I called her Hitler. Cawty knew no bounds when it came to me. It infuriated me every time I thought about it. I just think she's an eel bitch. That's the jury speaking.

You still love Sarah. You wish she still loved you? Boris chuckled again. Love? What I feel right now isn't love. Ah, there's an old saying that there's a thin line between love and hate. Maybe you're confusing your emotions. I'm not confused.

I want to forget I ever met her crazy ass. I looked around for our waitress who finally brought out food. I devoured it quickly and didn't speak or acknowledge Boris for another 15 minutes. Boris ate toast and eggs, quietly and serene. When is the last time you had sex with a woman that wasn't your wife? I nearly choked on my food. What's that, grandpa? I joked, red-faced.

Ah, the way you lusted after that food is a tell. You need to get your appetite satisfied, or you're going to get fat, and no woman would want a fat, miserable man still pining after his ex-wife. Again, the old man had a hearty laugh at my expense. I was embarrassed at his suggestion. Honestly, the thought had not crossed my mind. Maybe Boris was on to something as I eyed the waitress from across the room. You like her? Why don't you wipe the mare off your face and go and get her phone number?

She'll give it to you. Well, I don't know why I did it, but I did exactly that. She had dark hair and a curvy body. She was young, but old enough. I tapped her on the shoulder, to which she turned and smiled. She wasn't beautiful, but there was something about her green eyes. I'm very sorry if this comes off a fence. but I was wondering if you might like to have dinner with me.

I was in awe of my own confidence. She smiled. Ain't she going to introduce yourself first? She quipped. Oh, I'm Dave and you're Emily, I said, looking at her name tag. Okay, Dave, she laughed. Give me a cell phone and I'll put my number in it. I reached inside my pocket for my phone, but it wasn't there.

I looked back at the table and at Boris, who was holding my cell phone over in his hand, looking at it. I heard it at my finger to tell Emily to give me a second. I walked over to the table, looking at Boris, who had the, I'm caught look, on his face. Oh, it's just as mirror on your phone. I like the model. Is it the newer one? I don't know, I said, as he handed it to me. I looked down and saw he was looking at my contacts. I thought that was strange, but he was old.

ancient to be exact. I didn't take him for a tech guy. I walked back to Emily, and she added her name to my phone. I called her that night, and we met a local bar. One thing led to another, and I ended up spending the next morning

searching for a way not to go on a second date. While Emily was hot, there was little substance to our encounter. I left her place shortly after 10 in the morning. She kissed me goodbye, but we didn't even pretend there was more to our encounter than just sex. When I pulled into my driveway,

I happened to look across the street, and I was shocked to see my ex-wife's car in Boris's driveway. I was confused, like maybe I was seeing things for a moment. And then I saw her. Sarah was grinning from ear to ear as she got into her vehicle. Well, I hid behind my truck so she wouldn't see me as she drove past. I had to know what this was all about. I could wait no longer, so I marched over to Boris's house, and I knocked loudly on the door.

It took him a while to answer, and when he did, he was all smiling. Can I ask you what the hell my wife Sarah was doing here? Ex, he said flatly. What? Sarah's your ex-wife? Yeah, I know, but why was she here, Barnes? Come in. I pushed past him and went into his forehead.

I bought one of her sculptures. Why? Why not? You said she was a talented sculptor. Because of why you might want it. Oh, you mean the hearts. Why do you think I'm asking? Why don't we have a drink?

I have some gin in the kitchen. I don't want to drink. Boris smiled at me and then walked into the kitchen. He slowly opened his cupboard above the sink and poured. out a bottle of gin, pouring himself a glass. Boris drank it, sipping as he watched me. He waved the bottle at me, and I shook my head, no. Screwing the cap back onto the bottle, he put it back and then carried his glass with him as he walked towards me. Let me show you something. With a wave of his hands, he created what looked like a wormhole in his kitchen.

Purple lights swirled around in a circle until you seemed to appear in my old home, magically. I was now standing in my kitchen and for a second I felt dizzy I saw her then coming through the door it was Sarah and she had groceries with her Mike are you back yeah I'm here washing dishes and then I saw him

Mike and you bow was standing over the sink Sarah was still in the living room while he was cleaning blood off his hands in the kitchen sink. He wiped the blood off the knife and then placed it back into the drawer. Why was Boris showing me this? The room melted all around us, and then I saw it.

Mike was burying something in the woods. It was a bag. The bag had broken open, and inside it were charred pieces of bone. Mike brushed the bones inside the large black bag and buried it deep inside a hole. looking around he quickly cleaned himself off and then walked away from that point on

I saw more of his crimes Mike was a serial killer who prayed on people there was no discrimination old young male female Mike killed them all but because of his job

no one ever suspected how long I whispered to Boris who turned off the vision as though he were pressing a button 20 years now Mike is one of the best serial killers that ever lived Quite a genius of what he does

Oh his heart will be quite the specimen to add to my collection So you don't want Sarah Boris turned his head from me Looking down as he slowly sipped on his gin Both are prized specimens Both, my question Yes But Mike is clearly the ones you'd kill

I don't kill anyone They have to want to die So How would it happen Our time will tell Boris sat his glass down And then smiled him I have to run into town now

Feel free to stick around Lock your door on the way out I stood watching him As he slowly grabbed his jacket Walking out of his house I couldn't understand the knowledge that my ex-wife was living with a serial killer. I had to do something. I just didn't know what I was going to do.

That night I began researching everything there was on my life. He'd been a decorated officer for nearly 20 years. I think I spent the entire afternoon trying to find something on him that I could use to go to the police myself. There were so many positive articles written about him. I researched missing people. in the area. I guess I didn't know what I'd find on Google. Soon, it was dark outside, and as I looked out the window, I realized Boris was still not home. I began to panic. What if he'd gone to Sarah's house to collect her heart? I had to face

up to the fact that maybe he was right, and perhaps I did still love Sarah. He spent several years together, only married for five, and divorced for less. I decided to drive by my old house. I had to make sure Sarah was okay. When I drove down my old street, I saw the narrow yellow house we'd promised to share the rest of our life together in. Part of me still died whenever I looked at it. All the lights were all turned off. I realized it was nearly midnight. They were probably asleep. I slowed down in front of the house when I saw a shadow of a man in the bushes. I stopped. When I did, he moved into the shadows, making it more difficult for him. He was made it more difficult for me to see him. I backed my truck up and peered out my driver's side window when I saw the porch

light come on. Sarah was standing on the sun porch, looking out the window. Well, I sped off before she could spot my vehicle. I drove around the corner and then parked halfway up the next street over. I got out of my truck and snuck through the yards of nearby houses to see if I could spot the would-be person stalking their home. The lights to Sarah's house were off again. I stood up. I stood and watched the house for a while before I saw a cop car cruising by. It slowed down, pointing a flashlight in my direction. Shit, get out of here, you moron, I told myself, hiding from the glare of the flashlight. I managed to hide well enough not to get spotted, but it was a surefire sign that I needed to get the hell out of there fast.

A restraining order will put you in perspective, as will jail time. I ran towards my truck, driving home. I nearly texted Sarah to see if she was okay, but I knew better than to do so. I fell asleep quickly, but I spent a restless night having one nightmare after another. I was walking with Sarah again in a dream, and we had our new baby. When I went over to peer into the stroller to look at our child, it was only a skeleton of a baby wearing a pink set of pajamas. I woke in a sweat to my phone ringing.

It was a voicemail from Dr. Burns. Hello David I wanted to reach out to you because you missed your appointment on Friday I have not reported to the card that you missed it I try to give everyone the benefit of the doubt but we do need to reschedule please call me when you get this message I grabbed my phone and called Dr Burns right away

I barely knew what day it was was it Sunday was it still Saturday Hello David Dr Burns asked Yeah I'm very sorry, Dr. Burns. I was unwell most of yesterday. Is it possible for us to reschedule for this week? Yes, I'm sorry you weren't feeling well. Next time, if you could, please contact my office so that it isn't an issue.

Well, while I have you on the phone, may I ask how you've been? I've been good, except for this flu going around. I lamented. Oh yes, there were a few patients that had to reschedule this week. There was always a reschedule due to the flew at any doctor's office. It was a good cover for now. I'm sorry to have inconvenienced you, Dr. Burns. I'm just glad I was able to talk to you. Like I said before, you need to reschedule, call my office. So I thanked Dr. Burns and hung up. Close call, you idiots, I taught myself. I sat up in my bed and then went to shower. And that's when I felt it. Something was off about my house. I could smell something in the air. What's that cigarette smoke? Well, I didn't smoke and no one I knew smoked. I strolled into my bathroom and then, I don't know what made me do it,

but I looked into the bedroom closet from the corner of my eyes. There was a man dressed in a hooded sweatshirt hiding in my closet to think fast. So I stopped for a second, managing not to panic when I grabbed a large book from the shelf by my bed and threw it at the man. From there I saw him race towards me. When he did, he dropped a needle. I suspected he was going to inject me with it. I struggled as he jumped on me, but I had a head start and ran towards my front door. I suppose I could have stayed and fought, but what would be the use in that? When I had the chance to escape, why not take it? I saw his hoodie fall from his head, and I already knew who it would be before it fell from his face.

Mike was behind me, but I was already gone. I ran towards my car, and just as he was about to grab me, I opened the door to my truck and hit him with it. He fell to the ground, clutching his forehead. You son of a bitch, Mike yelled. Well, I couldn't drive away because my keys were in the house, but he was on his feet before I could pull away anyway. and then I saw Mike drop to the ground.

I turned behind me and saw that Boris was standing there. He was walking towards me as Mike lay on the ground with a small axe in his thigh. Come on, let's get you out of here, Boris said. I opened the truck door and we both stood over Mike. Now what? Oh, we wait. See what he does? I looked at Boris and then back to Mike.

Mike stood, but barely. You two are under arrest. For what? Boris asked him. Attacking an officer. He staggered backward. Boris looked at me with a smudge. We see no badge. Why were you in my friend's house?

You attacked him. Mike said nothing else. Instead he toppled in my direction, pulling out a gun. I was lucky enough to see it and stopped him from shooting at me I wasn't as big as Mike was but he was injured so I had that on my side he struggled for a moment longer when he fell and hit his head on the concrete knocking himself out cold I'd fallen next to him amidst the struggle

and now I got up to look at him he was still alive now what I yelled at Boris we can take him inside I struggled with Mike as Boris was relatively no help I managed to get Mike eventually inside my house should we call someone he's not waking up well he awake Boris said sitting on my sofa

Mike laid on my living room floor we both looked at him or erupted from his mouth and Boris let out a giddy chirp of laughter what I was annoyed at his giddiness. Oh, you'll see. Finally, after what fell like hours, Mike began to come to. He tried to sit up,

but then screamed in pain as he did. Oh, I wouldn't do that if I were you, Boris exclaimed. Mike looks over at him, the confusion apparent. And then he looked at me. How are you still walking this earth? I kicked him out of anger.

Shut up. Swine. Sarah can't be happy because she's always worried about you and what you'll do next. What about you? I know what you do. Mike looked at me as he realized what I was saying. Well, who you gonna tell? Boris looked over at me and then down at Mike. Tell me, what would you like more than anything? To kill both of you. Boris was disappointed as he turned back towards him.

me, shrugging his shoulders. Can't you do something? Oh, they have to want it. What are you two idiots talking about? I need a doctor. Mike was now exhibiting pain. Hmm, I have an idea, I said, grabbing my phone. Boris looked at me. I called Sarah and told her to come over to my place. As soon as Mike saw me say, hello Sarah, it's about Mike. He began to attempt at moving across the floor to get at me. Without explaining too much, she could hear Mike yelling in the background from pain, which helped both Boris and myself. Sarah soon pulled into my driveway, and soon we heard her pounding on the door.

I went to answer it, and when I did, she looked past me towards Mike on the floor. What did you do? she screamed at me. Nothing he didn't deserve. I spat back. Mike held Sarah's long, slender fingers in his hands. He's a murderer. He tried to kill me. Is there no end to your lies?

He belongs somewhere you can get help. I'm so sorry, honey. He attacked me outside our home last night and brought me here. Mike lied. So, the figure hiding in the bushes last night was Mike. But why? Well, I figured I must have interrupted me when he was. on his way to kill another innocent person. I just thought I was doing them a favour.

Oh, you're a goddamn liar, I said, turning to Sarah. I woke up and he was already at my house. I knew she wouldn't believe me, so I turned to Boris. Show her. The room began to swirl, and it was a vision that both Sarah and I could see. Mike was slitting the throat of a young woman in a roadside motel. I could feel her heart breaking into pieces, and for once I hated myself for hurting her. Her grip on Mike's hand jerked back. Boris walked over to Mike and looked at him.

Mike was now as pale as Sarah, and I knew he must have loved her amidst all of the killing and cravings. And that part shocked me. Sarah didn't look at me, but I knew she was broken. Boris held out his feeble aged hand to her My dear What is it that you desire I want to die

She said as her chest heaved with overwhelming emotion Sarah held Boris's hand And she cried so hard I felt her crumbling No I yelled Boris looked at me smiling empathetically It was asked

take my heart i said not wanting sarah to die at the hands of a death collector mike was still unresponsive as he laid on the floor still shaken at what he was seeing i paid no attention to him even as he managed to slither out the front door to my home leaving sarah in boris's hands oh my good chap you are noble to offer yourself so sacrificial but i did not come here for you you have nothing I need or want you can't take her take Mike's heart Boris looked at me and then back to Sarah but hers is so beautiful

his eyes then changed to an amber colour I saw the light in his hands then I saw Sarah lift in his gaze there was a glow coming from her chest there was something so beautiful about her all a glow as though she were an angel.

I memorized Sarah's face in my mind of what she looked like in the final moments of her life. The golden orb in casing her heart seemed to move from her chest as her heart gave itself to Boris willingly. Boris still held onto her as she took one last heavy breath.

As she did, she looked back at me and smiled before she finally clasped into Boris's arms. I watched in disbelief as she absorbed the scent of her precious heart and then it disappeared as he placed the golden

orb inside of his pocket Boris seemed to stand taller than he had been a few moments before he collected the heart and his reward was the beauty and talent inside it then the light in his eyes dimmed and he seemed to remember

me I was so angry and so hurt my eyes were wet as I grabbed Boris by the shirt collar stop he said holding out his hand how dare you i have a gift for you please i looked around the room and i saw it swirl again the room was now boris's home we stepped inside and i found myself inside the place where he collected those bright red hearts in an empty jar was sarah's name he pulled out the orb and placed it inside

the jar on the shelf he pointed out the arm and placed it inside the jar on the shelf he pointed out of the room to the empty jar next to it. What? Is that for Mike? That greedy son of a bitch escaped. You should have taken his. For a smart man, you can be daft as shit. The jar next to hers.

Read the name. Boris said impatiently. I looked at the name next to it and realized it was mine. David Simmons. And under it was my genius talent. I was shot by what it says. said. Sacrificed his life to save the most children in a burning building on April 25th, 2021. I didn't understand. Oh, I don't normally tell those whose hearts I collect beforehand.

While you're no use to me now, you will be because of what you suffer today. You'll be a hero someday, son, but I must go now. And as Boris said that, The room swirled once again, and I found myself in my own home. Boris remained on the other side of the wormhole in my living room. Where are you going? I asked him, partly because I was sad he was leaving, and also because I still felt like I needed the heart collector's guidance. Oh, don't worry, you will see me again. At the end of your life, when you've grown tired, I'll be there.

I get thinking about Mike, and before I could ask him, he seemed to have read my thoughts. It wasn't his time today. But I knew by his words he'd be collecting Mike's heart very soon. Boris disappeared in a swirl of purple light. I looked around the room and Sarah's body was also gone. There was no trace of what had been or what had occurred. I walked towards my front door,

opening it to look out for any signs of Boris. The old house across the street was no longer there. In its place was an old tree and a weathered shack. My house remained the only one on this deserted street. I suppose I should take comfort in knowing that my life would no longer be worthless, but it didn't change that emptiness inside me. I've tried to move on. It's been a few years since I met the heart collector.

All I have to prove he ever existed at all is my own, beatings. heart. I know in time that that will no longer belong to me. What is fear? A human instinct? An indicator of some danger? Well, there are hundreds of theories, all of which are correct in their own way. Numerous studies have been done through the years, and all of them have the same unanswered question. What's the limit of fear a human can produce? And what happens when we successfully break it. Although the question itself may not seem important, it could alter human history, if done right. Recently, me and a group of highly known and respected scientists were brought together to find the answer. We all had to sign NDAs, which had said if we were to

violate the NDA and reveal this to the public, well, we will be executed. We'd be given a limitless supply of cash for whatever needs we have, no matter the result of this experiment. The reason we're attempting this is because it's believed that once the limit of fear a human can handle is found, broken and removed, any task can be done with ease. Each and every phobia and fear would be erased. Humanity wouldn't fear death if it was looking right at it. This first started because the military had issues with over 48% of enlisted soldiers having difficulties pulling the trigger, even if it meant life or death. Then, however, the CIA came on all. They completely altered the course of where the experiment will go, although I'm not sure if it was for better or for worse.

We started testing on human subjects, exposing their phobias and fears, and letting them come face to face with them, even letting them get killed just for the extra few results. We documented each experiment. After months of endless testing, we finally got some decent results. This is the next phase. of the experiment, letting others test it out themselves and seeing their unfiltered reactions.

The first question. You wake up in a cold, sweat, dazed and confused. You look around the room and see a figure in the corner. It knows you're looking at it, but chooses not to strike. It's toying with your emotions. You know your chances of survival are low. Would you attempt to fight or run? Second question. You are tasked with retrieving venom from a deadly spider. It's your job, and some say it's the most dangerous one. You don't know much about the spire itself, so you carelessly try to catch it, but it jumps on you and bites you.

You jump back, get the antivenom, and clean the wound. After 39 days, you notice little tiny eggs in your skin around where the spider had bitten you. They start hatching and tearing skin. Would you call for help or cut off your own? Third question. The year is 2020, the 3rd of April. The COVID-19 virus is spreading. You notice you're out of milk and reluctantly go outside with no mask or any kind of protection.

In front of your closest store is a large group of people. You can't go to a different store. That would be too much work. You squeeze through, but it only gets harder. The large group is growing as they all want to go to the store and buy everything they can. Would you push through and have to go out again in the same way, or go back and risk it taking even longer? Fourth question.

You fall into a cave. Not too deep, but nonetheless your leg is broken. You know you won't be able to climb out, so you get out your phone and call 911. They know your location and are on their way. While examining the room, you notice something moving in the darkness. Then a slight hiss. Soon enough, you know it's a snake.

Not just one, though. With the flashlight on your phone, you see what looks to be over 40 of them coming right for you. You recognize the type of snake. It fears light but can sense movement, and its hearing is much better than that of any human. If you stay still, they won't attack. Three hours pass and eight of them are on you. You can hear the ambulance in the distance.

If you say a word, it could mean death. Do you scream out and hope they can find you in time? Or do you carefully use the phone's flashlight and attempt to slowly get them all far enough to where you can escape? Fifth question. You go camping with some friends. During the night they all slowly vanish into the forest. It's a practical joke, you think.

Three hours passed and no sign of them. Maybe they just ditched you. You grab a flashlight and walk around, but still staying close to the tents so you don't get lost. You hear twig snapping, what sounds like chewing and breathing nearby. You don't know what it is, or if it knows you're that.

Do you start sprinting in a random direction? Or start screaming to try and scare it away? Sixth question You're on board a cruise No family No friends You did it because you needed some time off You got a little too drunk

And fell off the boat Nobody even had it You still hope to survive Although you have no idea where you are 30 minutes pass But it feels like it's been five hours Using your waterproof phone's flashlight You look around you every five minutes or so

because you're paranoid. Every now and then you do see something that resembles a shark or so you think. It becomes more frequent and you have nothing to defend yourself with.

Do you start frantically panicking and splashing the water to try and scare it away or do you start swimming in any direction? Seventh question. Every night before bed you see a man standing

outside your house. You know it's been happening for over a year now. Slowly he gets closer and one night his face is pressed up against your window at night. The cops can't catch him and you feel defenseless when you know he's there and you don't know his intentions. One night you hear a knock on the door and it gets more frequent, then louder, then stronger. You become paranoid and scared. You know it's him.

Do you run or do you fight? Eighth question. After reading this or any scary story, do you feel safe at home? And if so, what would you do if you suddenly started experiencing paranormal activities? Ninth question. Do you lock your doors at night? If so, how hard would it be to unlock them without the key? Tenth question.

How safe do you feel after watching a horror movie? 11th question. You hear screaming. You know it's me. You know I am after you. And you know I can get inside. You know, no matter where you go, I'll find you. You know, as you're reading this, I'm at the window.

18th question. Do you fear death? Fourth question. How certain are you that the cops will find you? First question. How would you like to be killed? First question. Would you be okay with me consuming your flesh afterwards?

First question, don't look up. Second question, I'll find your family next. Dr. Amani Singh awoke without the usual terror that accompanied him with the arrival of morning. Nightmares had beleaguered him for several weeks, but he awoke this morning without the usual sense of impending duty. He turned to see the words, Etymono, Leche, Dorma da rea, or the face of God falls upon you, written in blood along the wall.

These words written in blood provided no motivation. He took a deep breath and relaxed a little deeper into his comfortable bed. The sound of a tea kettle signalled imminent danger. He went to the dining room where plates and silverware were set along the table. He heard shuffling in the other room. The whistling of the kettle continued as he peered through the doorway leading to his kitchen. He saw the dead girl wearing a summer dress that still held the dirt scars from when he found her. Her flesh looked more like eroded plastic after decomposing for several weeks between being dead and post-reanimation.

She removed the kettle and it can't. in no time she filled two cups with warm water and settled them on to separate plates she brought them up with such care as she turned towards the doorway when she realized dr Singh was there she fell back in surprise and almost let the plates fall to the ground oh doctor you startled me her face held together well despite the several weeks she'd been The rot at the point where her forehead met her full, lustrous hair was the only point where he saw any cracks. A layer of skull poked out from the busted sinew.

He'd stitched her to Gervil several times, but that point never stayed. Bessephani, why are you here? Dr. Singh asked, We've been over this, and over this again and again. But doctor, I have a good reason this time, I promise. Persephone always had a reason to see the doctor. Her cheerful smile was hard to deny. The doctor was always in the business of letting her off with a kind warning.

What might that be? he asked. I saw the face of God today. You know not to joke about that, the doctor warned. If you're not being serious, I'll find a way to ensure you never find me again. Oh, doctor, don't say that. I would never lie about something so important. Would you be willing to prove it? Of course.

Dr. Armani Singh lived in a small home. He lived a life of austerity well within his means. He had no hopes of advancing any further, upgrading his house to anything more than a place to rest until he died. Everything looked the same, except for the metal door that stood along the wall between the dining room and parlour. The door held three locks, one of which required a key. He told the dead girl to close her eyes and removed the key from a compartment in his

shoe. The lock turned. Before he could open it, Persephone touched his hand. What is it? The doctor asked. Why would he be down there? What do you mean? Where else would he be?

No. I mean, he's the most powerful being in the universe, correct? Yes, of course. So? So why hasn't he killed you? Why would he let you live after you made him your prisoner? Why doesn't he go somewhere else? Do you think you can keep him forever?

I don't have answers for any of those questions, Dr. Singh said. I've thought about them, but I'm starting to believe there might not be an answer. Sometimes things happen and you just have to consider yourself lucky for how they happened. Why would he let me do this? He enjoys feeding me bits of wisdom, knowing I want more. He knows I couldn't stop searching, even if everything failed and I was left with nothing. It's a struggle, a quest, for which I've come too far. I can't turn back.

He knows that, and he loves to serve as my tormentor. Do you think it's a trap? she asked. I do. Dr. Singh opened the door. It pulled into the wall. He found the light along the wall, which illuminated a wooden stairway. Dr. Singh walked halfway down the stairs when he turned and said, Are you coming?

Persephone thought about it for a moment, but took that first step into the basement. She turned and pulled the door closed. Dr. Singh continued down the stairs, walking out of sight. More lights went on in the basement. As she made her way around the corner, she saw several worklights hanging from yellow hood. books nailed along the ceiling. Dr. Singh had three separate tables covered in papers. One of the tables held a computer he never used. He preferred writing everything down. Her eyes

couldn't move from the massive obstruction. A metal sphere projected from the wall. Several wires of various colors hung around the sphere and made a mess as they piled around on it. On the other side was a small glass panel for viewing inside the machine. Persephone thought about it for a moment and couldn't resist. She moved closer to the glass, taking special care not to let the creature see her. She looked in and saw nothing, except an impenetrable black. It's so dark in there. Why would you do that to him? His eyes concerned me, the doctor replied.

I could feel them on me at all times. I still do. At least now, I can act like he's asleep. He never sleeps, the girl replied. He never sleeps and he never dies, Amani said. I've done this a million times. He doesn't seem bothered by it every time he dies, at least not as much as me. Every time that I kill him, I feel a bit of myself die in the process. He's taking you then, the girl warned. How many more times until he reaches that delicate center? How long until he consumes you? I don't know, Dr. Singh replied.

It's as inevitable as death itself. Death for him is not inevitable, doctor. Hmm, we'll see. The doctor turned on the machine. The engine needed a moment to wake up as it hummed back to life. Another lever stood on the right side of the machine. He pulled it and a light flashed from the inside. The revolving arms and legs within the sphere were awake.

They weren't moving, but the machine was on. The engine hum grew louder until an incessant clicking noise alerted them to a red bulb that flashed throughout the room. everything went red as they neared that final stage he took a deep breath and pushed a blue button the lights turned on inside the machine the creature stared as if its eyes had never left him it maintained the same emotionless smirk as it always had you should have left him where you found him Persephone said His awakening was foretold you know You think you found the scientific discovery of the ages

But that's what he wants you to believe What does that mean, Persephone? he asked I know he's leading me to a trap I know that this won't have a good ending But what other choice do I have If this can benefit the huge human race, what choice do I have? Dr. Singh made a point to look into the eyes of the monster, as he waited to let his machine perform one last task. Several restraints lined the walls inside

the machine. Two separate metal poles held the creature's ankles, while two more held his knees. Two poles held his hips, torso and neck, while a cranial vein. While a cranial ice held his skull. Metal poles and wiring restrained every inch of the creature. Machine itself was akin to some kind of human meat slicer. It cut through each of these restrained parts as it made its way to his throat. The machine moved to cut its body to ribbon. Every time it cut, the body of the creature fused and the wound. disappeared. One final incision severed the neck from the head. The split remained for a second before the creature's flesh pulled back together. Dr. Singh took a moment to consider the look in

the creature's eyes before he pulled the final lever. The supports pulled away from the wall for only a few inches. It rotated for a moment, moving the creature around. Another metal support moved within the sphere. The difference was the thin metal wire that dangled from the top. It revolved a few times until the wires cut through the creature's throat. The creature's eyes went wide as blood pooled around the wound and healed right away. The creature kept his eyes on the doctor. The wires cut through its ankles and knees.

hips, torso, wrists, shoulders and elbows, until it cut through his throat. A flicker of light went off with every cut. The light flashed over and over from several bulbs lining the inside of the machine. Anger became all that the doctor could see in the creature's eyes. The bursts of light illuminated the unremitting rage clenching down on the monster. It bubbled against its cold dead skin, until the light flashed once more and went out.

The lights in the basement went out. The doctor called to Persephone, but she didn't respond. Dr. Singh crept over to the closest desk, trying not to make a sound, until he had the flashlight he kept in the lowest compartment.

He turned it on, waved it around, until he found her. Persephone's eyes, were empty. The sockets clung to worms squirming to escape. They poured out of her open mouth and through her nose. Beetles broke through her flesh, tearing the seams that the doctor had worked hard to secure. As she fell apart. She collapsed to the ground and the parasites feasted on her remains. Red lights flashed as the machine turned back on her.

on. Tied within the machine, he saw Pesophony. She cried and fought to break free. Dr. Singh tried to open the machine, but the mechanisms couldn't disengage until it stopped. He moved to the emergency override panel. It took some time, but he put the code into the system and everything shut down. The room went dark until the light inside the machine flickered. It flickered over and over. Pesophany spun around with her mouth hanging wide as she screamed in a noiseless terror. The first cut of the machine went through her ankles.

The next went through her hips. The next followed up her torso. It cut her to pieces as her body parts dangled from the restraints. A vomit of worms and insects poured down her chest and splattered against the glass, tore her to pieces until the lights went out. Dr. Singh pushed closer to the glass.

It flashed back on, and Persephone was gone. The chair sat empty. The red light flickered over and over in the basement. He felt the eyes watching him, and brought the flashlight over to see. There were hundreds of bodies. They didn't move.

They stood there with empty eye sockets dripping with pus and worms. They made the same horrible sound, as the worms slid out of their bodies and littered the basement floor. But Zephani, I know you're there. Tell me where you are. Dr. Singh searched as he heard the distant cries of the dead girl. They echoed within the walls, but whenever he got too close, they dissipated into silence.

Persephone, please, don't be mad. You do this every time, Persephone said. You use me as bait. I can't do it anymore. I'd rather be dead. Don't say that, the doctor asked. But please, say something. Is he with you? He's somewhere in here, Persephone said. But I can't see him. The clouds are much. thicker this time.

We'll have to remember that. I wonder if clouds come in on that side like it happens over here with the tide. You didn't notice many when we did this last night. It's not the same this time. Dr. Singh walked into his parlor. The words, vincenio, vinceno.

Or vengeance, vengeance, dripped in blood down the wall. Doctor, he's here. Here, Persephone yelled. What do I do? Remain calm. Remember to follow my voice. Doctor, he's levitating again.

He's coming. Dr. Singh closed all the doors around his dining room. He lowered the curtains and an impenetrable black filled the room. He hit the second switch and the light on the ceiling illuminated the room in a purple beam. Markings in white lined the walls. ceiling and floor. Persephone called out, her voice becoming fainter. Dr. Singh moved around the room, getting things into place,

when he realized two people were sitting at the table. He turned to see a man wearing a tux and a woman wearing a wedding dress. They turned to him without concern, and he saw the red lines marking each of their throats. Blood decorated the bride's dress. Doctor, where are you? Pesefany cried. He's right here.

I can't run anymore. Where are you? I don't know. Come on, Pasefany. You need to focus. Find the sign and I'll find you. He's so close. Just do it.

Persephone went quiet. The man in the tuck stood up at the table. Both people kept their eyes unblinking as they watched Dr. Singh's every move. The woman started to cry. The dining room shifted. Three bodies lay with their heads folded between the floor and wall. Their chins stuck into their collars. Two young girls lay with massive wounds in their chests. Bones poked out of their ribcages, along with busted organs and blood. The other woman, the woman was, the woman, The woman was the bride, except instead of the wedding dress, she wore a black nightgown.

Blood covered most of the gal, leaking from a wound in her neck. The images flashed between Doctor Sing's dining room and this other world. The bride twisted in her chair, wrapping her hair into complicated knots around her fingers. She tugged once and raised her eyes to the ceiling. The light folded in her eyes, collapsing into an impossible black as she screamed. What was that? Persephone asked. Find the sign.

Dr. Singh kept his back against the wall as the groom walked away from the table. The two girls appeared in white dresses. They blocked both doors and sang a nursery rhyme. Something about little lambs all alone. The symbols projected a few inches from the walls and danced in place. It's the lightning bolt, Kesefni began. Two lightning bolts with a circle around them. Dr. Singh looked around for the symbol, as the bride picked up the butter knife.

She stood up and tossed the chair aside. The table and chairs levitated a few feet off the floor. The lightning bolt stood on the other side of the room. The girls sat with their legs folded, rocking in place, as their eyes shifted to a horrible white with hundreds of red cracks. One of the girls leapt and bit into his leg. He fell over and the other girl grabbed his arms. They held him down as the mother came closer. The groom leapt with joy, clapping his hands as he looked to all the signs.

The sign spun in place. The groom put his hand through a sign of a tree on fire. The symbol blazed in a fiery crimson before collapsing to dust. A vortex appeared and spit grey clouds into the room, until Persephone's head pushed through and clogged the rift. Doctor! she cried out. He's somewhere behind me. The sign. I can't reach it.

Dr. Singh yelled. The bride hissed at Persephone before leaping over Dr. Singh's body. She came down with the butter knife and stabbed him in the chest. The knife didn't cut far, but made a slight incision a few inches beneath his collarbone. Dr. Singh shot up from the pain and pushed everyone away. The groom fell back against the wall. His hands reached out, swirling to touch every symbol, as he laughed and danced. He leapt up, grabbing Persephone's cheeks before planting a kiss on her lips.

Dr. Singh moved as fast as he could to the symbol of the lightning box wrapped in a circle. He put his fist through the wall. The symbol radiated a putrid green, spinning faster and faster as it floated toward the center of the room. The bride and broom sat back. The bride pouted as the symbol sucked her in. dragging her along the ground by her backside as she waved goodbye. The groom was much less agreeable. He held onto Dr. Singh's china cabinet and pulled it over.

The suction became too much and the groom lifted by his feet as he held onto the cabinet. Please! The groom pleaded. Dr. Singh had a moment of pity before the groom opened his mouth with a wide smile. His teeth were pristine white, with worms dancing around his gums. He let go, and the symbol took him away. The table and chairs fell to the floor. Persephone remained locked in the rift.

Dr. Singh climbed on top of his table and pulled on her shoulders. She budged enough that he could wrap his arms around her. He dug deeper into the rift and took her hands. He had her almost the way else when he felt a pair of cold hands wrap around his knuckles. Doctor, he's right behind me, Persephone cried. In a panic, he gave a swift pull and sent Persephone flying across the room. Her body held together well for a dead girl. The rift closed behind them.

Dr. Singh expected to see a sinister watchman on the other side. Are you all right? he asked. I guess so. I'm sorry, but I have to ask. Did you see it? Yes, but the thing is... What? What is it? The face of God.

It's the creature. His is the face of God. They returned to the basement. Pesophony took a seat at the bottom stage. while Dr. Singh made his way to the machine. He looked inside. The light was out. When he flicked the switch, it didn't turn on.

He's in there, Doctor, but there's something I can't tell you. No secrets, Dr. Singh warned. Please just tell me. Well, I've always had a crush on you, and Persephone he considered. Well, have you ever wanted something so bad? You would do anything to get it. What are you saying? Dr. Singh asked.

Well, you see, Doctor, I wanted to be with you, so I had to... I had to make a deal. What kind of deal? The machine turned on by itself. The light inside flashed and revealed an empty seat. The lights inside. flashed one after the other. Dr. Singh's computer turned on out of nowhere.

It turned on right away, and several files popped up and made a mess over the screen. It came to a file-labeled pictures and showed several images. Hundreds of pictures of shadowy form surrounding the doctor during his studies. Every image showed fewer and fewer of the forms.

He noticed the date. The further back in time the images went, the few are the bodies. More and more bodies appeared over time. More and more ghosts broke through the gateway and entered his home. Pesephani, where is he? Doctor, I love you so much. The lights went out. Darkness filled the room.

Dr. Singh yelled for fear. Persephone as the red light flickered in illuminated countless forms. More of the forms appeared with every flicker, reaching closer and closer. Dr. Singh backed away as far as he could until he leaned against one of his tables. The shadows attacked. He fought and they took him down. The machine opened and the forms pushed him inside. They restrained him.

Dr. Singh screamed for Persephone one last time before the door closed. Red lights continued to flash from the outside, while the inside of the machine lit up. He heard knocking against the glass and saw the creature. It never blinked as the machine came to life. The restraints shook, pulling him upright by a few inches. before leaving his face in front of the glass. Persephone kissed the glass, leaving a faint outline of her lips

as she watched the machine pull him back. His restraints pulled him upright. The rig set behind him whirred into motion, dragging the metal wiring up to his neck. Several pieces from the restraints broke from the rig and moved beyond the control of the machine. They moved to sever his hands from his body, as well as the restraints that held him in place. Dr. Singh screamed, as it cut pieces of flesh from his legs,

ripping through his clothing to trim bits of flesh from his thigh. It cut through his right leg, leaving it dangling from its harness. The metal wire spun through the air and wrapped around his forehead below his left ear and above his right. The wire tightened around him until he thought the pressure would make his brain explode. It cut right through. Blood poured down his face and covered his mouth. He couldn't process thoughts anymore, but his eyes remained rigid with terror. The wire cut through his cheek as it made its way to his other arm.

It cut through his arm. Both arms severed, leaving him dangling, by his throat within the machine. The wire came up one last time. It floated in front of his face. Dr. Singh whimpered as it tied around his throat. It tightened, cutting into the soft flesh around his neck. He lost his breath and his eyes bulged from his skull.

He couldn't collapse as the wire tightened more and more, cutting into him deeper until it cut. right through. His head fell from his shoulders and bounced against the side of the machine, rattling by his feet. He took a moment, but the machine shut down and opened. Pesephani picked up the pieces of Dr. Singh, taking care as she wrapped them up. She brought them to his room and laid them across the bed. When she had every last piece, she lay a little piece, she lay a alongside them. She kissed Dr. Singh's shattered face and wrapped her arms around him. The parts of him folded under her, but she held them together. She heard a knock. She went into the hall.

The noise became a thunderous boom that echoed throughout the hallway. Persephone ran to the kitchen. She set the kettle on high and waited to hear it whistle. Before it could, she turned and noticed the doctor sitting in the doorway. The side of him startled her. He walked with caution as the individual parts that now represented his body buoyed in place. He took a seat in a chair by the table. By some miracle the pieces held together. Persevany, he choked on blood and worms.

Why are you here? Oh, doctor. Persephone watched in horror. You startled me. Persephone, why are you here? Dr. Singh asked. We've been over this and over this again and again. The pieces of him held together,

but he worked to push his hips and stomach into alignment. It helped him remain upright, and he sat with a straight spine, angling upward around his neck. But doctor, I have good reason this time, I promise." Persephone recited from memory their conversation. It was one they'd repeated several times.

What might that be? he asked. The top of his skull slid a little too much, but Dr. Singh didn't seem to notice. I saw the face of God today, Persephone said, as she walked to the table. She let her hand rest on the imperfect line that cut his skull in half. She pushed it into place. He did the same for the broken seam between her forehead and hairline. Dr. Singh let his finger touch the bit of skull that was always showing on her perfect face. He couldn't help but smile. Funny, I think I just saw it right before my eyes. Pesefony pushed away as her smile. As her smile, she said, she saw it. She said, revealed fangs. She couldn't blush, as she'd been dead for far too long.

Oh, Doctor, I'd be glad to prove it to you, if you'd let me. I think I just about have all the proof I need. Persephoney set a glass for him along with a plate. They drank their tea and enjoyed the morning. Dr. Singh didn't bother with the machine. He never bothered with it again. They remained in the house for the remainder of their afterlives, until the property was condemned. People came to the house all the time, but nobody stayed for long. Several issues deterred potential buyers, like the star crossed lovers with stitches, dangling flesh and broken frames, who, without fail, always stayed for longer than breakfast. Andrew turned on the cable box. It was brand new, straight from the company.

He'd read up on this model from the internet. Being the tech junkie he was, he was absolutely taken in by the rave reviews. He'd read of it from fellow geeks on the internet. He didn't know quite what to expect, but he knew he'd enjoy it. It cost a pretty penny, though. It made him grateful he worked at the major company that he did work at.

which in turn made him grateful that he'd focused entirely on what had mattered, excelling in high school, and then, in the Ivy League college he'd attended. It took its sweet time to load up, though. He tapped his knee with his index finger impatiently. Come on, come on, he thought. What could he say? He was eager to watch his shows.

Only, after an hour, it was still loading. By this point it was midnight And he was tired as hell From his day at work Mumbling angrily to himself He went into his room Changed into his pyjamas and got into bed It was just his luck that

After not just a hard day at work But the whole week he'd been waiting For the new cable box to arrive It would go and pull this shit Oh well Nothing to be really done about it He was asleep soon enough. The next day arrived. Fucking finally. Getting up, strolling eagerly out into the living

room and sitting down on the couch, he grabbed the remote and switched on the TV. Sure enough, it was the news. Now, he'd never been a news guy, so his initial reaction was that this was boring as hell when something caught his eye. The picture on the TV was a amazing, simply amazing. It was like high-deaf, but better. The image quality was so sharp, and the color so bright and vivid. A wide smile slowly appeared on his face as he kept watching the news, just soaking in the fact that, yes, he'd made an excellent choice buying this.

So, there he was watching the news. just enjoying his new cable box that he'd plugged into his TV. But he noticed something odd happening. One of the main anchors, his eye kept twitching. First, just a tiny bit, barely perceptible, but then more frequently and more noticeably. About 20 minutes after it started happening, he was at the point where he was twitching his neck and jerking his head.

Andrew's brow. furrowed with confusion as he watched this thing happening. This didn't make any damn sense. Why would a news anchor be acting like that on live television? That wasn't the weirdest thing, though. What was far, far weirder was that his partner didn't seem to notice what was happening. She kept reading the news, smiling, and when she passed the reading after him, he spuddered and barked out the news while jerking his head and neck violently. At this, she simply smiled warmly at him, and then back into the camera. At this point, Andrew was getting pretty damn freaked out. So he turned the TV off and decided to go and do something else. What the hell was wrong with this? Must be some issue with

the station. He did feel bothered, though, especially given that he spent all his money on the damn thing. Still, he went about his day. He made himself breakfast, did some work on a major report for the AGM of his union local, and then headed out, having remembered that he had to drop off some government forms at various offices downtown. So, he left. In his living room, there still warm cable box sat snugly beneath the TV. As he went about his day, though, he felt chilled. this nagging tension eating at the back of his neck that made his hairs rise on end.

He got home seven hours later. The sun was low and red, shining a soft yet dull orange glow across the landscape outside his home. He got inside, took his shoes off and casually moved over to the couch and plopped down, switching the TV on with the remote as he did so. What happened to be on was one of his favourite cop shows, the ones where they were rough, tough and gritty, and always got their guy in the end, even if they had to cross all the lines to do so. For the next half hour or so, he watched the hour-long show, enjoying the hell out of it as he did

so. And then, something weird happened. In a tense, serious interrogation scene, the show. the lead detective couldn't stop giggling and glancing at the camera. An idiotic grin plastered on his face. The interrogation continued as normal. The criminal started yelling that he'd never snitch. The detective's partner screamed that he'd go away for 20 to life.

But by that point, the lead detective was laughing his ass off, staring directly into the camera. No one else in the scene. he noticed. At this point Andrew was getting bothered by all this. Way, way bothered. His heart

started to race, and subtle yet raw fear crept into his heart and began to nest there. His hand trembling, he turned the TV off. After it was off, he quickly stood up and walked into his bedroom, trying to put all of this

behind him. climbing into bed without changing into his bedclothes. He reflected on how this was an incredibly freaky situation that he had to get away from for the moment and try to figure out. He didn't think of what was happening though. He actively tried not to think about it. In that he succeeded, drifting off to sleep quickly. Before he fell asleep though, something happened.

his mind drifting to what he'd seen on the TV through the cable box. He found himself grogly, so much so that he wouldn't remember when the next morning arrived, giggling uncontrollably at what he remembered from the news and the cop drama. As an odd sort of fog descended over his mind that was in no way related to him falling asleep, he found himself utterly entranced by what he had seen. Getting up the next morning, he went through the usual morning routine. Shower, breakfast, getting dressed, the whole deal. He specifically avoided turning the TV on.

He wasn't going anywhere near that damn thing. He'd seen enough horror movies to know that you don't fuck with shit like that. Maybe it was an issue with the station. Maybe the damn thing was haunted. Even still, he's supposed to be. specifically avoided turn the TV on for the next few hours. Just something about it and the cable-walks kept him away. That didn't last.

He went about his day. He thought about it and finally told himself he was being ridiculous. After all, it was probably an issue with the station after all. So, that evening, relaxing on the couch with some popcorn, he turned the table. TV on and controlling the cable box with the TV remote switch the channel to one of those golden oldie stations the ones that played TV shows from decades back he landed on one of those family dramas from the 50s the kind with the picturesque and perfect upper middle class nuclear family this was the one where the Clyde family headed by Mr Arnold Clyde and his wife

Mrs. Jean Clyde, raised their two sons Bobby and Bill, teenager and preteen respectively, and weaved through the trials of middle-class America in the 1950s. Andrew had watched it a number of times. It was wholesome in a way that he liked. Anyways, in this episode, Jean Clyde was alone in the kitchen, cleaning the floor. She was wearing one of those 50s dresses with an apron and had her, her hair done up in an extremely well-kept style, the kind that only people in fictional TV shows ever had in day-to-day life. She had a sharp but kind face, beautiful in that movie star kind of way. As she cleaned the floor, she was muttering somewhat angrily, but not too angrily. This was the

50s, about being left to do all the work by herself. Then, she stopped and stood up slowly turning to face the camera. Andrew blinked. This was it. He'd had it. He reached for the remote, grasped it and lifting it, moved his finger to press down on the power button. He was stopped though as the lady on the screen started to speak. Hold it Right there, Han, she said, grinning somewhat wickedly as she rested her hand on her hip. Andrew froze, his eyes widening. He blinked a few times, trying to see if he was just dreaming or seeing things. Sure enough, when he opened them again, she was still there.

She laughed at tiny bit as she, apparently, witnessed this. running her free hand through her hair. She then continued speaking. Now, if you're done acting like a scared little goose, we can have a nice chat. She then smiled sweetly, the way an archetypical mother would smile to her five-year-old. As Andrew witnessed this,

his heart wasn't beating hard in fear. chills weren't running down his spine oddly enough he found himself drawn in by all this he felt a blissful joy rising up inside of him he wanted to see this and wanted to hear her out sure enough that's what he did

letting out a relaxed sigh as he laid back on the couch jean clyde clapped her hands together excitedly as she saw him relax himself well ain't that a nice cold glass of lemonade now where to start she paused for a brief moment her eyes running across the ceiling and then quickly refocused them on andrew again smiling even more brightly she said sweetly but with a dash of fire in her voice all right See, hon, I'm about to start moving on, but before I do, I'd like to get to know you a little more. See, and I'm just going to be honest here, I like you a lot. I also think I can really help you out, show you things you've never seen before.

As she said that last sentence, her voice got lower and huskier. It was at this moment that Andrew, his eyes connected with Clydes, noticed that she was staring intensely at him and breathing very heavily. He then noticed that, and he didn't know how this was possible. She was staring into him, if that makes sense. He didn't know how to feel, honestly. A part of him deep down, a core part. was screaming at him to turn the cable box off and get rid of it.

Drive it out to the ocean, smash it with a hammer into a million bits on the pier, then dump them into the water, get into the car and never look back. He didn't, though. He didn't because he wanted to hear what she had to say. As she looked into him, he felt giddy inside. He didn't know how or why. but he felt that this was good, that she was good, and that this was something he had to see through.

Jean Clyde continued, Okay, now we can get started. She spoke firmly as if she had a mission. She then casually moved over to the knife drawer, as if she was getting ready to cut a pie into various pieces, and opened it. She deftly plucked a knife out of the drawer and turned to face the camera, smiling at Andrew. She smiled brightly as she held the knife in front of her.

She smiled brightly as she lifted it, and she smiled brightly as she began to cut hard and deep into her neck, tracing the blade into a wide cut across the entire front of it, as the blade sliced the skin open just as if it were butter blood splashed and rushed out of her neck all over the front of her in a violent cascade as Andrew watched

the one thing he couldn't forget later on that never left him was that she was smiling the entire time this was too much there was the part of Andrew that wanted to keep him watching that made him feel like he needed to keep watching. More than that, he felt a strong urge, a near, overwhelming drive, in fact,

to touch the cable box. That's all it'll take, that voice inside of him said. Just reach out and touch the cable box. You'll see then. You will absolutely see. He stared at. into Clyde's eyes as the pressure built inside of him.

Soon he was thinking it would be fine. What harm could there be? Wasn't it worth it to take the wrist to see what this person wanted to show him? Before he knew what was happening, he found himself pushing himself off the couch and taking small, slow steps towards the TV and cape box. Then, out of nowhere, unaware, shoving forcefully from deep within him. The part of himself, from deep down, finally

wrestled itself into his main consciousness. As Andrew stood there before the couch, his mind screamed, Get it off! Through his entire body. With that, he desperately grabbed at the remote and stabbed his thumb down on the power button as hard as he could. The The picture on the TV disappeared into a sea of darkness, as the cable box's front lights dimmed as it shut down. A few moments later, his blood racing and tension tightening his nerves. He got up and paced back and forth. This wasn't good. This was not good.

What the fuck was that? His mind was racing a million miles a second. Why was he about to touch the cable box? As he paced, he felt terrified shudders race through his body. Whatever it was in that thing had nearly got him. It nearly fucking got him. Tears of pure fear welling in his eyes. He stopped and glanced at the cable box.

box. There it sat. Small, black and compact, with the company logo on the front side of it. He knew he had to get rid of it. He knew this. By the end of the evening, the cable box was dropped beside the dumpster outside his apartment. Good fucking riddance, Andrew thought as he walked away from the box back into the building he went to bed early that night that night he dreamed of jean clived smiling as the laughing detective from the cop show put his gun to her head as he pulled the trigger and the bang of the pistol firing exploded into his ears he awoke his eyes shooting open the next day was a workday it was easy very very very very very very very very very very boring and routine to be honest. Andrew spent most of the day going through his sales

reports, compiling them into a report for his supervisor. In the breakroom during his lunch break, he sat by himself and ate his lunch alone, as Brenda and Ryan from accounting gossiped about Jenny's out-of-wedlocked pregnancy with her boyfriend, and how they had no idea she'd break the news to her husband. It was that kind of day. Something ate at Andrew, though. Ever so gradually, as he was working on his reports for most of his day, his mind kept drifting to the cable box. His initial feelings of horror and terror aimed at the cable box were now subsiding

and being replaced by curiosity. He shouldn't have felt curious, given what he'd experienced, not in the slightest. Yet he did. At first it was just idle curiosity and he, rightly, shoved it down and ignored it. Then it came back again. Harder, stronger and more fiercely. After an hour, all he could think about was the cable box.

Thoughts of what was on it and what Jean Clyde had to show him besieged his mind. His mind kept going back to do. Jean Clyde, and of how wondrous what she had to show him was. This was all quite illogical, but something had seized in his mind. Something that even he could somehow vaguely perceive was alien to said mind. By the time another hour had passed, his mind and body flushed with the feelings of giddiness and fogginess that had migrated into his brain, the night he watched television on the cable box for the first time. He had left work early to race home, desperately hoping that the cable box was where he had left it. It was. Jumping out of his car,

he raced over to the cable box and, picking it up, checked it for damage. None. Soon after, his car was parked and he was in his living room, reconnecting the TV to the cable box as quickly as he could. His hands trembling with sheer excitement and anticipation as he did so. Minutes later he turned the TV and the cable box on and appearing on the screen was Jean Clyde, smiling lovingly down at him. I knew you'd come back, sweetheart. Of course you would have. Now, I need to show you something. As Andrew stared up at her, He could vaguely feel the tears running down his face as her soft, loving, gentle voice cascaded over him. He knew what he had to do.

He knew. He reached forward and laid his hand on the cable box. At that moment, Clyde saw it, and her eyes lit up as a wide, excited smile appeared on her face. As he noticed her smile brightening even more. or with even more sheer excitement, he felt something. Not just the ecstatic joy and bliss that had come to him from Jean Clyde and his connection to her now. No, not just that. What he felt most of all was an icy chill,

slowly migrating from his hand up his arm and then through his body. At first it was just cold, like an icy breeze in the Arctic. Then it started to turn to pure bliss, as if it were morphine. The beautiful, lovely wave of good feeling radiated throughout his entire body. As he sunk deeper and deeper into bliss, he looked into the eyes of Jean Clyde. Seeing her return that same bliss to him in her eyes. Andrew never showed up to work the next day, nor the next, nor the next. No one else heard from him either. Eventually, a missing person's report was issued.

When the police entered his apartment the week after he disappeared, they didn't find him there. They didn't find anybody. They did, however, find a living room carpet soaked with dried, rotting blood. The room stunk to hide. heaven from it. Also missing, though the police didn't know to notice this, was the cable box Andrew had purchased some weeks back. The police did launch an investigation into Andrew's disappearance and investigated the possibility of foul play, but they could find no evidence of anything, nor any leads.

So it went nowhere. Andrew was never seen again. A week later, in Moscow, Russia, Alexander Korolev, a 19-year-old hacker, taking a break from fishing credit card numbers from gullible Americans, was leaning back in his chair, his feet on his desk. In his lap was a bowl of chocolate ice cream, as one of his favorite episodes of his favorite program finished downloading. As it started, he smiled in a satisfied. fashion. Jean Clyde was angrily cleaning the floor. Then something weird happened, stopping abruptly and then standing up and facing the camera. Jean smiled. Speaking in perfect Russian, with a sweet, kind-natured voice, she said,

Hello, Alexander, we need to talk. Jared had just finished tying the tie when he reflected on how he came into this amazing fortune. He didn't believe his luck even then. He definitely didn't believe it when he found the suit in the consignment store down on fifth. He'd been going there for the past while, trying to drown the feelings of inadequacy

in despair that had been plaguing him. A year out of university still couldn't find anything past retail. And add to that, the woman who he wanted to marry leaving him, it wasn't good. He reflects on how around that time he'd started thinking about leaving everything behind one day one way or another, either by up and leaving this country or leaving this world through the either appealed to him equally. The suit, though. The suit. Sleak, black, slim and practically shining,

just hanging there in the back row over the back of that old thrift store. The one that constantly smelled like the 1970s, and that looked about as much. He'd been browsing idly, no intention of buying anything. Just trying to see all the neat things that were there while he imagined himself buying something. It might sound odd, but it was comforting in a weird way. And then, then he saw it, brushing his fingertips along the arm of it, tasting the fabric with his touch.

He was struck by how soft and light it all felt. As he looked at it, he imagined himself. wearing it how professional and how great he'd look try walking into an interview with that on that was when he knew he had to have it he felt it deep in his bones he glanced at the price tag and cringed it cost a bunch way more than you'd expect from a place like this still though it took him about an hour to get home on transit with the suit. He headed straight home without making any detours. He was that eager to try the suit on for the first time. Getting home at around 5.30 in the evening,

he quickly got into his apartment, shut and logged the door, and then practically raced into his bedroom. There was something about this suit. He just had to have it on him, had to see what it was. He had to see what was like. Within minutes he'd stripped down to his underwear and was then putting the suit on. First, the exceptionally thin, black dress socks, then the pants that fit him just right, not too tight or too saggy. The belt with the plain, pure silver buckle. The dress shirt, with its barely visible patterns worn into the fabric. The tie with its criss-cross pattern. of grey silver bars and finally the jacket dark foreboding intimidating and impeccably professional with the suit on he stood back and looked himself over in the mirror as he looked on he felt

himself fill up inside with joy and pride he looked amazing the suit fit him to a tea and not just that, but vastly enhanced, not just his appearance, but he could just feel there was a vibe he gave off. He also felt how he looked. He wasn't some schmuck who couldn't get a job with his BA, or who got abandoned by the woman he loved more than anything. No, he was a real man, A real piece of work who would grab the world by the horns and make it submit to him instead of the other way around. Anyways, he'd finished trying it on more or less. So now was the time to take it off, hang it all up, and save it for a special occasion. Unless he couldn't, he found.

He just couldn't. This was just too good a suit to have it just hanging in the closet for the next few months, or however long it took for him to get a job interview. He had to show it off, really impressed the world. Before he knew it, his mind was made up. Yeah, he'd take it out for a night on the town. An hour and a half later, he was strolling down Main Street in the downtown core. The moon was hanging high in the air.

with the glitzy and glamorous lights of the street and of the stores aligned along the sidewalks punctuating the darkness the sidewalks were a buzz with people of all sorts from all walks of life hippies business people students of all age ranges and more the city was alive and Jared loved it more than that Jared was alive too in a way he never had been before moving amidst the crowd of people in a brisk stroll through this urban night-scape Jared felt like a king the suit made him feel empowered he made him feel like he could do anything be anything accomplish anything his heart thundering with power and his body pulsing

with barely contained energy the suit made him feel like he was the man he dreamed of being his entire life, someone in charge, someone people respected and admired. If only Marcy had respected him that way. His thoughts drifted over to Marcy and everything he had given for her. Her shy, almost nervous look that concealed a powerful self-confidence and the sheer energy with which she tackled life and everything in it. Their bodies tangled together, naked and sweaty, in the middle of the night, as the sound of their breaths filled the bedroom they both occupied.

But then, it ended. No fanfare, no drama. She said she just wasn't satisfied and left. Word on the street a week later was that she'd already found someone new. A stockbroker named Andrew. Jared had then looked him up on the popular social media network that he liked to use. He was good-looking, had it together. Looking at his photo, he hoped he'd make Marcy happy.

To say he was shattered, over the breakup was putting it mildly. But he dealt with it. He didn't beg her to come back because he knew she never would. no he just accepted it now though now he was angry which was odd because he'd never felt angry toward her before even with the pain she'd brought him after all he wasn't entitled to her love he knew that much right off even still with the suit on and him feeling like the champion that he now knew he finally was, he found indignation rising in him. Who the hell did that bitch think she was anyways?

Stealing those years of his life, and for fucking what? Just to run off with some asshole. As he finished crossing the street on 18th, Jared's eyes widened and he became vividly aware of the beating of his heart. What was going on? He'd never thought of Marcy that way before. He realised, though, that he was angry. Not even just angry, but furious.

Forcing himself to keep walking, it all flooded into him. This world, this miserable fucking world, with all of its bullshit people and its bullshit systems. Maybe it would be good if this whole damned ship pile was drowned in nuclear fire, he thought to himself. So there he was, walking the town, and feeling his fury rise more and more inside of him. As he walked, he tried to keep himself under control, keep his emotions level. He couldn't, though. He felt as if he wanted to kill someone, as if he needed to kill someone, as if he needed to be.

to vent his anger somehow. Something was changing him, that much he was sure of, but he didn't know what. Trembling with rage, he walked and walked, and as he did, something dawned on him. He was realizing that he was hot, just too damned hot. Wiping his brow with the back of his hand and loosening his tie, his eyes darted around where he was. was. He needed to get something to drink, needed to cool off. Finally he spotted it, a bar. Here, he could get some water from there, and then start to head home. Half a minute later, he was in the bar and talking to the bartender. Hey, could I get some water? I'm fucking parched. Jared rasped, his throat scratchy.

The bartender cocked an eyebrow, but after a moment nodded. As Jared waited, he wiped his brow again. This time it was actively damp. He began drumming the wood of the bar with his fingers as he waited for the bartender to get back with his water. As he did so,

he realized that he could barely control his anger. Sooner or later, he'd go off on someone. He needed to, he was realizing. As he was starting to worry about this, the bartender got back with a damp glass of water with some ice cubes in it. Jared smiled eagerly, nodded in thanks, and grabbed the glass and began to drink from it.

As the cold water hit his tongue, and then raced down his throat in huge, desperate gulps, it was as if Jared's entire body breathed a sigh of relief. That was it, yes, that was it. Just what he needed. His body started to cool down as his throat got more and more lubricated and, oddly enough,

his emotions began to level out too. After another minute or so, the water was gone and Jared felt himself to be more cooled down. and more level with that he turned to leave and began to walk toward the exit as he moved a person coming into the bar short skinny curly head and with a mouty face with a young woman by his side blonde hair early 20s looking probably the guy's girlfriend bumped into him and as he did so shoved him to the side arm. While he did this, he snidly snapped at Jared to watch where he was going before turning to his girlfriend and laughing about it. Jared had felt level. Well, that changed. He began to think,

you miserable mother, but didn't finish his thought before he had deftly reached over to a nearby table, grabbed hold of a wine bottle by its neck, and, as hard and fast as he could, smashed it over the man's head. The glass exploded as it impacted with his head, and the man immediately tumbled forward and then collapsed to the ground in a heap. As Jared stared down at the man's body, he noticed it lay motionless. The woman quickly dropped to her knees and began yelling. Johnny! Johnny! Johnny! Can you hear me? Her voice was fraught with fear and despair.

She was really scared she might lose him, Jared thought. He didn't stick around to find out for sure, though. By the time half a minute had passed, he was a block and a half down the street. His feet smacking the pavement as he pushed himself to run as hard as he possibly could. finally when he was a good distance away he slowed down leaning against a wall panting hard he glanced back at the way he'd come an idiot grin on his face when he'd started his night on the town he'd felt alive and he felt like a king now he felt like a god that miserable piece of fucking garbage jerryard thought to himself. Try to fuck with me, did he? He replayed the events over in his mind, and as he did so, started to giggle wildly. He was so damned happy. He'd never felt like this before, in charge, powerful, dominating. As he soaked up the power and assurance of those feelings,

he oddly felt his bitterness rise in concert his eyes casting a wide glance over the people passing him by back and forth he found himself wanting to strangle each and every one of them and as he did so he felt something akin to hunger he needed to do something to vent his anger to be the man this suit had made him into he had no idea what was causing him to change like this nor would he ever even when the change had finished its imprinting onto him once and for all it was hard to describe what he was feeling it was sheer raw fury along with a desire to hurt very quickly Jared had decided he would commit some form of harm tonight. Part of him, a very small part, was begging him not to as he leaned on the wall, panting. He didn't listen to this though, he couldn't. He felt the thirst like he never had before.

Not just that, but that which was changing him was feeling an even stronger thirst, needing to be fed from Jared and feed it he would Jared realized what his course of action would be when he saw a certain someone pass him white button-up shirt tucked into his grey suit pants cell phone to his ear grin on his face

it was Andrew the same Andrew that took Marcy from him Jared felt rage rise within him, yes, but that wasn't what filled his mind, filled his being. What did fill his mind and being was a singularity of purpose, a conviction even. Before he knew it, he was following Andrew, waiting for the right moment. He followed him for seven blocks before Andrew, checking his phone and he was following Andrew, furrowing his brow, ducked into an alleyway. Now Jared knew this particular alleyway.

It was a helpful shortcut to the nearest subway station. Smiling eagerly, Jared followed Andrew into the alleyway. What happened in that alleyway was neither nice or wholesome in its description. What is worth noting is that Andrew never noticed Jared until it was too late. and that he never even had a chance to scream, Jared was on him so fast. The punches eventually landed with thick, wet, smacks to Andrew's face. And finally, for the coop de grass, Andrew's skull split open like a ripe melon with a satisfying crack

as Jared smashed it into the cement ground, over and over as hard as he could. Andrew's brains collapsed out onto the ground beneath him, resting now in a pool of thick, dark blood. As for Jarrett, well, he was panting hard, his heart pounding massively with sheer excitement and joy. It wasn't just that it was satisfying killing Andrew, is that it felt like it's what he was made for,

as well he now had a taste rate he had a taste of he knew not what but a kind of high that he knew he would need again and again this would be repeated he was sure what he didn't know is that it would happen again because what had changed him what had been changing him this entire night had now been fed and would feel feed again. As he stood up, the front of his suit was stained all over with blood. Nonetheless, this didn't bother him. He began to move toward the exit of the alleyway. As he stepped out into the street, there wasn't a speck of blood on him, not one. He got home after about an hour. He stripped off his clothes, got into bed and slept the best sleep he. had in years. As he drifted off into dreams, he knew, deep down, that he'd wear the suit again.

He had to. He didn't have a choice in the matter. He was even a tiny bit aware of that. Then the day would come when it would need to feed again, and he would feed it. Oh, how he would feed it. In exchange, he would feel like the God he knew he was always meant to be. The suit hung there in his closet, and as it did, inside of its own consciousness, it laughed viciously. June 30th, the void that my parents have left behind ever since their death has slowly begun to consume the whole of me. I'd seen it. happened with my own eyes. My parents inside a car being crushed under an oil tanker, followed by a colossal explosion. Nothing much had remained in that crash. That was exactly five months

and twelve days ago, and soon the damp walls of my house haunted me. Every unkempt corner, every discarded object, every bit of the house reminded me of happy times. I imagined I could hear my mum humming in the kitchen or my dad laughing in the living room my recent bereavement was getting on my nerves I have no relations to maintain no promises to keep I just had my 12-hour job with all the extra hours for which I got paid it wasn't the money that mattered anymore

I just have to keep myself engaged somehow I think I knew it all along, that I would have to move out one day. If not to escape the cesspool of memories, then to start new. July 2nd, sold my house to a businessman, who was more than just willing to pay me a handsome amount, just enough to buy myself this house on the eastern fringes of the city. The nearest house is a mile away. I thought buying a house in the countryside would make me drive an extra hour,

into the city so I chose this house with a bright yellow plaster the color seemed cheery I hoped it would help me do away with my former house and all the memories at Harvard the house itself seems pleasant enough and the surroundings are peaceful I wanted to find peace yeah I think I will find peace here July 4th I love this house it's warm and comfortable. The rooms are large and it gets plenty of sun and air from the windows. I met my nearest neighbor today. He seemed a burly and middle-aged, good-humoured chap, and his small, kindly wife makes really great cookies. However, they seem to be looking at me a bit queerly

when they thought I wasn't looking. But they probably don't have a lot of city people out here, so maybe Maybe they're just curious about me. July 7th. Something about this house has started to make me feel uncomfortable. I feel like I'm being watched. I woke up from sleep last night, expecting to find an intruder in my house. I don't know why I felt that way. The sensation of being watched was very strong.

The air had grown particularly dense and chilly. It took an effort to draw my breath. I think I'm just being paranoid, though. It's new for me, after all. I'm bound to feel uneasy, having lived in the city for so long. The nights get quiet. Too quiet for my liking. Oh well.

July 8th, I woke up again tonight. It felt uncomfortable. The air was heavy. It was different, almost wrong. I switched on my light. Everything looked normal in the light, though, so the feeling dissipated. July 9th. I found a discoloration in the yellow ceiling today, directly above my head.

The plaster had somewhat faded away in one place. It looked wet. Maybe there was something wrong with the plumbing. have to ask a plumber to come down and take a look. July 11th. I got a plumber to take a look a few days back, but nothing's wrong with it. Even the discoloration wasn't there.

But that night, I found that the discoloration was back. The shape looked somewhat familiar, like a man, perhaps. And the next morning, it was just gone. Again. This has been happening for a few days now. Maybe the pipe contracts during the night, or something like that, water leaks out. It gets cold in the night anyway.

Harts to breathe with the air all heavy. I need to check this out. July 13th. I have a growing feeling, but the sensation of being watched increases when the discoloration is there. It's creeping. me out. I called the plumber who came again and he said there was nothing wrong. I wish it would go away. It looks like a man more than ever and it appears at different places every day. I've noticed. Is it alive? Maybe it's a snake that's borrowed in the pipes or something. I swear I'm going to be up all night. I'll

catch it if it moves. July 14th. I couldn't stay up all night. Fell asleep. The man shape is now on the left wall. I'll try my luck again tonight. July 15th, I couldn't stay up last night either. This is frustrating.

The damn shape is back and now on the ceiling. I can't stay up at night like this every day. God, I'll mess up at work. July 17th. The shape is scaring me. I can't catch it moving. Yet, there it is. In a different place every day.

I've tried staying up all night watching the shape intently. God, it just looks like a normal plumbing problem. But it isn't. It isn't. I'm sure it's alive. I will catch it. Last night I felt so damn scared. I drew the bed sheet like a thin blanket and hid myself under it.

I covered every inch of myself, from the tips of my tightly curled toes to the bend of my head. I held the end of the bedsheet tightly clenched in my fist. Who was I hiding from? Death, perhaps. Death in the shape of the man. But death is peaceful. Death isn't repulsively yellow. Death is momentary.

God, I'm rambling now. Maybe what I experienced was a sleep terror or something. I'll get up. Half to sleep. God, I feel so sleepy. July 20th. Every night. Every damn night.

I am startled out of sleep to find the discoloration of different places and different positions in my room. I hate it. I can't sleep anymore. It seemed the discoloration, the man, would choose from the vast yellow spot, any spot to persecute me, torture me with uneasy sensations and terror. And I felt disturbingly absurd. obsessed with the color. What exactly was the man in the war telling me? What did I owe him and what did he owe me? I haven't confided in anyone my experiences regarding the nightly

errants of the man in the plaster. My colleagues just think I'm suffering from chronic insomnia. One guy actually suggested me a week's leave from the office. God, what a joke. That was the last thing I would ever want. The more I stayed away, the less I thought of it. As horrible as it is to come home to this entity, which I'm sure is malevolent. God damn it, I'm going to call a priest. July 23rd. Today, when I ran away from the house frantically and reached my office, palpitating, my boss called me to his room. He suggested that I was, was in need of some rest. I grew desperate at the word. I pleaded with him, but his tone grew sharper and he told me that some more deserving and fruitful man should get the money I draw from the

office every month without significantly contributing to the company. In my panic and frustration, I'm afraid I screamed at him. He looked at me like I'm crazy. Two security guards. Two security guards, forced me out of the office and another one kicked out my suitcase along with me. I thought of never returning to the house, but where could I go? Am I crazy? No, I'm not. I know I'm not. July 24th. I saw them. I swear. I saw my parents. It was them, with mutilated bodies,

disillacated shoulders, detached legs, and broken necks on cracked skulls and blood-smeared faces. I haven't seen anything more horrifying, but I blinked and they were gone. But I can feel them. They're in the walls. They are everywhere. This can't be a drink in hughed hallucination. I know what I saw. I'm not crazy.

They want me to join them in the walls. They were my parents. They were here. I'm not crazy. I raised my gaze up to the ceiling, only to find the man gone. A discoloration had dissolved away like it was never there. I swear this time I'll catch it if it appears again. I know it's watching me.

I have to prove. that I'm not crazy. July 25th. It moved. It moved. It moved. It moved. I saw it move.

July 26th. Can't write. Fingernail broke. I scratched wall. I scratched wall. Drink and wall scratch. Scratch. Going home.

There weren't any more entries in the diary that the police had found. The inspector stopped reading. The last page was covered with splotches of blood. This was a singular piece of literature for sure. He looked around at the pale yellow walls. An entire section of a wall was scratched and the plaster was missing. Blood was smeared all over it. He assumed it was from the broken fingernails.

The poor man must have gone crazy. thought the inspector. The man's body had been found, laying half in and half out of the wall. His face was blue, and he looked strangled. There weren't subcutaneous abrasions, or anything like that. If it was possible, it looked as if the man had died from holding his breath for too long. He crazy stuff, he thought. As he stood up to go, he noticed a wet discreet.

coloration in the ceiling. But that was only the plumbing. So, he left. And so once again, reach the end of tonight's podcast. My thanks as always to the authors of those wonderful stories and to you for taking the time to listen. Now, I'd ask one small favor of you. Wherever you get your podcast wrong, please write a few nice words and leave a five-star review as it really helps the podcast. That's it for this week, but I'll be back again same time, same place, and I do so hope you'll join me once more. Until next time, sweet dreams and bye-bye.