Dr. Creepen's Dungeon - S6 Ep352: Episode 352: Extremely Weird Horror Stories

Episode Date: July 9, 2026

Today’s first terrifying tale of terror is the classic ‘Cold Light’, an old-school work by the wonderful Captain S. P. Meek, freely available in the public domain and read here under the conditions of the CC-BY-SA 3.0 license.https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/29607/pg29607-images.html#COLD_LIGHT Our next terrifying tale of the macabre is ‘My father was a police detective in Texas: One of his cases still has him question what kind of evil humans are really capable of’ by the wonderfully talented Crest O’ Razors, kindly shared directly with me for the express purpose of having me narrate it here for you all:u/Crest_O_Razors/Today’s phenomenal final award-winning story is ‘Hands - My Haphephobia Experience’, this month’s ‘Pasta of the Month’ by Veryclever4u, shared with me via the Creepypasta Wiki and read here under the conditions of the CC-BY-SA license:https://creepypasta.fandom.com/wiki/Hands_-_My_Haphephobia_Experiencehttps://creepypasta.fandom.com/wiki/User:Veryclever4u

You hear that? That's Rogers Red Partner program at work in your business. Bringing more customers through your door with additional cashback for eligible Rogers Red Credit Cardholders. And more savings to your bottom line with lower transaction fees. Give your business a real edge with Rogers Red Partner program. More than a point of sale, a sign of smarter business. Learn more at Rogers.com slash Red Partner. Welcome to Dr. Creepin's Dungeon. We find weird things creepy because they challenge our understanding of what feels normal and familiar. The human brain is constantly searching for patterns and explanations.

So when we encounter something strange, unnatural or out of place, it creates a feeling of uncertainty. A person standing completely still in the wrong place. A familiar object behaving strangely or something that looks almost human, but not quite, can trigger a a deep sense of discomfort. Often the fear comes from not knowing what we're seeing or what it means. Yes, the feeling that something is wrong even if we can't explain why. The unknown leaves room for our imagination to create something far more frightening than reality itself, as we shall see in tonight's three stories.

Now, as ever before we begin, a word of caution. Tonight's tales may contain strong language as well as descriptions of violence and horrific imagery. That sounds like your kind of thing. then let's begin The bodies had broken into pieces as though they've been made of glass Cold lights

by Captain S. P. Me. Damn it, Carnes. I'm on my vacation. I know it, Doctor, and I hate to disturb you, but I felt that I simply had to. I have one of the weirdest cases on my hands that I've ever been mixed up in.

And, well, I think you'll forgive me for calling when I tell you about it. Got a bird, groaned into the telephone. I took a vacation last summer. I tried to. You hauled me away from the best fishing I've found in years to help you on a case. This year I've traveled all the way from Washington to San Francisco to get away from you, and the very day that I get here, you're after me.

Oh, I won't have anything to do with it. Where are you, anyway? I'm at Fallon. Nevada, Doctor. I'm sorry that you won't help me out because the case promises to be unusually interesting. Hey, let me tell you about it at least. Dr. Bird groaned louder than ever into the telephone. All right, go ahead and tell me about it.

If it'll relieve your mind, but I've given you my final answer, I am not a bit interested in it. That's quite all right, doctor. Don't expect you to touch it. I hope, however, that you'll be able to give me an idea of where to start. So, um, did you ever see a man's body broken in pieces? You mean badly smashed up?

No, indeed I mean just what I said. Broken in pieces. Legs snapped off as though the entire flesh had become brittle. No, I haven't. Neither did anyone else. Well, I've seen it, doctor. What? What have you been drinking? Operative Kahn's of the United States Secret Service

chuckled softly to himself. The voice of the famous scientist of the Bureau of Standards plainly showed an interest which was quite a variance with the words he'd spoken. Oh, I was quite sober, Doctor. So was Hughes. We both saw it. And who is Hughes? He's an airmail pilot.

One of the crackflies or the transatlars. of the Transcontinental Air Mail Corporation. Hey, why don't I tell you the whole thing in order? All right. I do have a few minutes to spare, but I'll warn you again that I don't intend to touch this case. Ah, suit yourself, Doctor. Well, I have no authority to requisition your services. As you know, the TAC has been handling a great deal of Transcontinental Air Mail

with a pretty clean record on accidents. Day before yesterday, a special plane left Washington to carry two packages from there to San Francisco. One of them was a shipment of jewels valued at a quarter of a million, consigned to a San Francisco firm, and the other was a sealed packet from the War Department. No one was supposed to know the contents of that packet except the chief of staff, who delivered it to the plane personally. But rumors got out, as usual, and it was popularly supposed to contain certain essential features of the army. war plans. Well, this much is certain. The plane carried not only the regular TAC pilot and courier, but also an army courier, and it was guarded during the trip by an army plane on

with small bombs and a machine gun. You know what? I wrote in it. My orders was simply to guard the ship until it landed at Mills Field, then to guard the courier from there to the Presidio of San Francisco, until his packet was delivered personally into the hands of the commanding general of the ninth core area. Well, the trip was quiet and monotonous until after we left Salt Lake City at dawn this morning. Nothing happened until we were about a hundred miles east of Reno. We'd taken elevation to cross the stillwater mountains

and were skimming low over them, by plane trailing the TAC plane by about a half a mile. I also had paying any particular attention to the other ship when I suddenly fell out plane leap ahead. Well, it was a fast one, and the pilot gave it the gun and made it move, I can tell you. I yelled into my phone, asked him what the reason was. The pilot yelled back that the plane ahead was in trouble.

Now, as soon as it was called to my attention, I could see myself that it wasn't acting normally. It was losing elevation and was pursuing a very erratic course. Before we could reach it, it lost flying speed and fell into a spinning nose dive and headed for the ground. Well, I watched, expecting every minute to see the crew. make parachute jumps, but they didn't. The plane hit the ground with a terrific crash.

We caught fire, I suppose. No, doctor. That's one of the funny things about the accident. It didn't. It hit the ground in an open place, free from brush, and literally just burst into pieces, but it didn't flame up. We headed directly for the scene of the crash,

and we encountered another funny thing. we almost froze to death. Hmm. What do you mean? Well, exactly what I say. Of course, it's pretty cold of that altitude all the time, but this cold was like nothing I'd ever encountered. It seemed to freeze the blood in our veins,

and it congealed frost on the windshields, and it made the motor miss for a moment. It was only momentary, and it only existed directly over the wrecked plain. We went past it and swung around, a circle and came back over the wreck. But we didn't feel that cold again. Next thing we tried to do was find a landing place. And that country is pretty rugged and rough, and it wasn't a flat place for miles that was large enough to land a ship on. Hughes and I taught it over. It didn't seem too much

of anything that we could do except to go on until we found a landing place. I had no experience in parachute jumping, and I couldn't pilot the plane if Hughes jumped. So we swooped down. We swooped over the wreck as close as we did and that was when we saw the condition of the bodies the whole plane was cracked up pretty badly but the weird part of it was of the fact that the bodies of the crew had broken into pieces so they'd been made of glass arms and legs were detached from the torsos and lying at a distance there was no sign of blood on the ground we saw all this with our naked eyes from close at hand and verified it by observations through binoculars from a greater height.

And when we'd made our observations and marred the location of the wreck as closely as we could, we headed east until we found a landing place near Fallon. Hughes dropped me here and went on to Reno, or to San Francisco if necessary, to report the accident and get more planes to aid in the search. I had no idea as to what to do, but it seemed to be in your line,

and as I knew you were at St. Francis, I called you up. Tell me, what are your plans now? Well, I made none until I talk to you. The country where the wreck occurred is unbelievably wild, and we can't get near it with any transportation other than burrows. The only thing that I can see to do is to gather together what transportation I can and head for the wreck on foot to rescue the packets and to bring out the bodies. So, well, you suggest anything better?

Tell me, when do you expect to start? As soon as I can get my pack train together, possibly in three to four hours. Gorence, tell me, are you sure that those bodies were broken into pieces? An arm or a leg might easily be torn off in a complete crash. Now, they were smashed into bits as nearly as I could tell, Doc. Hughes is an old-time flyer, and he's seen plenty of crashes. but he's never saw anything like this. It beats anything that I ever saw, too.

If your observations were accurate, there could be only one cause, and that one is a patent impossibility. I haven't got any equipment with me, but I expect that I can get most of the stuff that I want from the University of California across the bay at Berkeley. I can get a play in a Chrissyfield.

Here, I'll tell you what to do, Cairns. Get your burrow train together, start as soon as you can. But leave me a half dozen burros and a guide at Fallon. I'll get up there as soon as I can, and I'll try to overtake you before you get to the wreck. And if I don't, please don't disturb anything any more that you can help until my arrival. Do you understand? I thought you were on your vacation, doctor. Ah, shut up, will you?

I've most of my vacations this one will have to be postponed. I'll move as swiftly as I can. I ought to be at Fallon tonight if I'm lucky. And don't run into any obstacles. Vuroes are fairly slow, but I'll make the best time possible. Well, I rather expected you would, Doctor. Look, I can't pack my train together until this evening, so I'll wait for you right here.

And I'm really glad that you're going to get in on it. Part 2. Silently, Kahn's and Dr. Bird surveyed the wreck of the TAC plane. The observations of the Secret Service operative had been correct. The bodies of the unfortunate crew had been broken into fragments. The limbs had not been twisted off as a freak of the fall, but had been cleanly broken off, as other bodies had suddenly become brittle and shattered on their impact with the ground.

Not only the bodies, but the ship itself. had been broken up. Even the clothing of the men was in pieces or had long splits in the fabric, whose edges were as clean as though they'd been cut with a knife. Dr. Bird picked up an arm which had belonged to the pilot and examined it. Oh, the brittleness, if it had ever existed, was gone now when the arm was limp. Hmm, no rigmaris, commented the doctor. How long ago was the wreck? about 72 hours ago What about those packets that were on the plane? Kahn stepped forward and gingerly inspected

First the body of the army courier And then that of the courier of the TAC Yeah, both gone, Doctor He reported, straightening up Oh, Dr. Bird's face fell into grim lines Well, there's more of this case than appears on the surface, Kans he said This was no ordinary wreck

I bring up that third burrow I want to examine these fragments a little He then went on to one of the two guides Who had accompanied them from Fallon You and Waller scout around the ground See what you can find out Especially wish to know whether anyone Had visited the scene of the wreck

The guides consulted a moment And then started on their way Cars drove up the burrow The doctor had indicated and Dr. Bird unpacked it. He opened a mahogany case and took from it a high-powered microscope. Setting the instrument up on a convenient rock,

he subjected portions of the wreck, including several fragments of flesh, to careful scrutiny. When he completed his observations, he fell into a brown study from which he was aroused by cars. What did you find out about the cause of the wreck, doctor? I don't know what to think.

the immediate cause was that everything was frozen. The plane ran into a belt of cold which froze out the motor, which probably killed the crew instantly. It was undoubtedly the aftermath of that cold which you felt when you swooped down over the wreck. Yeah, it seems impossible that it could have gotten cold enough to freeze everything up like that. Yeah, it does.

I'm confident that that's what happened. It was no ordinary cold, corns. It was cold of the type that infests interstellar space. Cold beyond any conception you have of cold. A cold near the range of the absolute zero of temperature. Nearly 450 degrees below zero on the Fahrenheit scale. In such temperatures, things which are ordinarily quite flexible and elastic, such as rubber or flesh, become as brittle as glass and would break in the manner which these bodies have broken.

An examination of the tissues that the flesh shows. that it has been submitted to some temperatures very low in the scale, probably below that of liquid air. Such a temperature would produce instant death and the other phenomena which we can observe here. Yeah, but what could cause such a low temperature doctor? Well, that I don't know yet, although I do hope to fight out before we're finished. Cold is a funny thing, Carnes. Ordinarily, it's considered as simply the absence of heat, yet I've always held it to be a definite negative quantity. All through nature we observe that every force has its opposite or negative force to oppose it.

We have positive and negative electrical charges, positive and negative or north and south magnetic poles. We have gravity in its opposite apergy, and I believe cold is really negative heat. Well, I never heard of anything like that, Doctor. I always thought that things were cold because heat was taken from. from them, not because cold was at it. It sounds preposterous. Such is the common idea, and yet I cannot accept it, for it does not explain all the recorded phenomena. You are familiar with the searchlight, or you not? Well, in a general way, yeah. Well, the search light is merely a source of light, and of course of heat, which is placed at the

focus of a parabolic reflector so that all of the rays emanating from the source travel in parallel. the lines. A searchlight, of course, gives off heat. If we place a lens of the same size as the searchlight aperture in the path of the beam and concentrate all the light and heat at one spot, the focal point of the lens, the temperature of that point is the same as the temperature of the source of the light, less what has been lost by radiation. You understand that, do you not? Why, certainly. I suppose that we place at the center of the aperture of the searchlight a small opaque disc, which is permeable neither to heat nor light, in such a manner as to interrupt the central portion of the beam. As a result, the beam will go out in the form of a hollow rod or pipe

of heat and light with a dark cold core. This core will have the temperature of the surrounding air, plus the small amount which was radiated into it from the surrounding pipe. If we now pass this beam of light through a lens in order to concentrate the beam, both the pipe of heat and the cold core will focus. If we place a temperature measuring device near the focus of the dark core, we'll find that the temperature is lower than the surrounding air. And this

means that we have focused, or rather concentrated, the cold. It sounds impossible, but, well, I can offer no other criticism. Nevertheless, it is experimentally true. It's one of the facts which lead me to consider

cold as negative heat. However, this is true of cold, as it is of the other negative forces. They exist and manifest themselves only in the presence of the positive forces. No one as yet concentrated cold except in the presence of heat, as I've outlined to you. Oh, how this coal belt which the TAC plane encountered came to be there is another question indeed. The thing which we have to determine is whether it was caused by natural or artificial forces. Both are the packets which the plane carried are gone, Doctor, observed Kans.

Yeah, that seems to add way to the possibility that the cause was artificial, but it's far from conclusive. The packets might not have been on the man when the plane fell, or someone may have passed later and taken them for safekeeping. All the doctor's remarks here were interrupted by the guides. "'Someone's been out here since the wreck, doctor,' said Bill. "'Morto and I found tracks where two men came up here and prowed around for some time "'and left by the way they came.

"'They went off toward the northwest. "'We followed that trail for about forty rods, then we lost it. "'We weren't able to pick it up again.' "'Well, thanks Bill,' replied the doctor. "'Oh, Kans, that seems to add more weight to the theory that the spot of cold was made. and it didn't just happen naturally. If a prospective party had just happened along, he would either have left the wreck alone,

or they would have made some attempt to intern the bodies. That coal belt must have been produced artificially by men who planned to rob this plane after bringing it down, and were nearby to get their plunder. So, um, is there any chance of following that trail? Right out it, Doc. Oh, Waller and I scattered around quite a lot. we couldn't pick it up again.

Is there any power line passing within 20 miles of here? None of that Walter and I know of, Doc. Funny. Such devices must have been used would need power, and lots of it for operation. Well, I'll try my luck. Guards, tell me unpack

and set up the rest of my apparatus. With the aid of the operative, Dr. Byrd unpacked two of the burros, and extracted from cases where they were carefully packed and padded so elaborate electrical and optical apparatus. The first was a short telescope of large diameter, which he mounted on a base in such a manner that it could be elevated or depressed and rotated in any direction.

At the focal point of the telescope was fastened a small knot of wire from which one lead ran into the main piece of the apparatus, which he'd sat on a flat rock. The other lead from the wire knot ran into a sealed container, surrounded by a water bath under which a spirit lamp burned. From the container, another lead led to the main apparatus. This main piece consisted of a series of wire coils, mounted on a frame and attached to the two leads.

The doctor took from a padded case a tiny magnet suspended on a piece of wire of exceedingly small diameter, which he fastened in place inside the coils. Cemented to the magnet was a tiny mirror. Hey, um, what is that? apparatus? Asked Kahn's as the doctor finished his setup and surveyed it with satisfaction. Merely a thermal couple attached to a Darsan Val Galvanitor, replied the doctor. This large squat telescope catches and concentrates on the thermo couple, and the galvanometer registers the temperature.

You're aware to my depth here. What's a thermal couple? A juncture of two wires made of dissimilar metals, in this case of plight of platinum and of platinum iridium alloy. There's another similar junction in this case, which is kept at a constant temperature by the water bath. When the temperatures of the two junctions are the same, the system is in equilibrium. When there are different temperatures,

an electrical potential is set up, which causes a current to flow from one to the other through the galvanometer. The galvanometer consists of a magnet set up inside coil through which the current I spoke of flows. This current causes the magnet to rotate, and by watching the mirror the rotation can be detected and measured. Now, this device is one of the most sensitive ever made, and is used to measure the radiation from distant stars. Currents as small as you can imagine have been detected and measured. This particular instrument is not that sensitive to begin with, and has its sensitivity further reduced by having a high resistance in one of the leads.

So, um, what are you going to use? it for. I'm hoping to try and locate somewhere in these hills a patch of local cold. It may not work, but I have hopes. If you'll manipulate the telescope so as to surge the hills around here, I'll watch the galvanometer. Part 3. For several minutes, Carr swung the telescope around. Twice, Dr. Bird stopped him and decreased the sensitiveness of his instrument by introducing more resistance in the lines in order to keep the magnet from twisting clear around, due to the fluctuations in the heats received on account of the varying conditions of reflection. As Carnes swung the telescope again, the magnet swung around sharply, nearly to a right angle

to its form of position. Stop, cried the doctor. Now, read your device. Karns read the compass bearing on the protractor attached to the frame which supported the telescope. up. Dr. Bird took a pair of binoculars and looked long and earnestly in the indicated direction. With a sigh, he laid down the glasses. Now, I can't see a thing, Karnsey, he said. We'll have to move over to the next crest and make a new setup. Plan it right on the hill so we can get a compass bearing and get the airline distance with a rangefinder.

On the hill top which Dr. Bird had pointed out, the apparatus was again set up. For several minutes, Khan swept the hills before an exclamation from the doctor told him to pause. He checked the new reading, and the doctor laid off for two readings on a sheet of paper with a protractor and made a few calculations. Hmm, I don't know, he said reflectively, when it finished his computations. This damn instrument is still so sensitive that you may have merely focused on a deep shadow or a cold spring or something of that sort. But the magnet kicked clear around, and it may mean that we've located what we were looking for. It should be about two miles away, almost due west of here. Well, there's no spring that I know of, Doc.

And I think I know every waterhole in this country, remarked Bill. That could hardly be a spring of this elevation anyway, replied the doctor. Maybe it is what we're seeking. We'll start out in that direction anyway. Bill, you'd better take the lead, for you know. know the country. Spread out a little so we won't be too bunched if anything happens. For three quarters of an hour the little group of men made their way through the wilderness in the direction indicated by the doctor. Presently, Bill, who is in the lead, heard of his hand with a warning

gesture. The other three closed up as rapidly as cautious progress would allow. "'Here, what is it, Bill?' asked the doctor in an undertone. "'Well, I'll slip up ahead and look over that crest. The doctor obeyed the instructions. As he glanced over, he gave vent to a low whistle of surprise, a motion for Carnes to join him. The operative crawled up and glanced over the crest. In a hollow before them was a crude one-storied house, and erected on an open space before it was a massive piece of apparatus. He consisted of a large number of huge metallic cylinders, from which lines ran to a silvery concave mirror, mounted on an elaborate frame which would allow it to be rotated so as to point in any direction.

"'Yea! What is it?' whispered Kans. "'It's some kind of a projector,' muttered the doctor. "'Never seen one quite like it, but it's meant to project something. "'Can't make out the curve of that mirror. "'It isn't a parable, and it isn't an ellipse. "'It must be a high degree subcutanery or else building a transcendental function. He then raised himself to get a clearer view, and as he did so, a puff of smoke came from the house, to be followed in a moment by a sharp crack as a bullet flattened itself a few inches

from his head. The doctor tumbled back over the crest out of sight of the house. Bill and Walter hurried forward, their rifles held ready for action. "'Right out on the flags, man,' directed the doctor. A man we want is in a house on that hollow. He's armed, and he means business. Bill and Walter crawled under the shelter of the rocks to a short distance away, and then a rifle's ready, advanced to the attack. A report came from the hollow, and a bullet whined over Bill's heads. And almost instantly a crack came from Walter's rifle,

and splinters flew from the building in the hollow a few inches from a loophole, through which projected the barrel of a rifle. The rifle barrel swung rapidly in a circle and barked in Walter's direction. But as it did so, Bill's gun spoke, and again splinters flew from the building. Good work, said Dr. Bird, as he watched the slow advance of the two guides.

Ah, if we just had rifles, we could join in the party, but we're a little too far away for effective pistol work. Right, let's go ahead. we may get close enough to do a little shooting ourselves. Pistols in hand, Kahn's and the doctor crawled over the crest and joined in the advance. Again and again the rifle spoke from the hollow and was answered by the vicious barks at the rifles in the hands of the guides. Kans and the doctor resting their pistols on rocks,

sending an occasional bullet toward the loophole. The conditions of light and the moving target were not conducive to making good marksmanship on the part of the besieged man, and none of the attackers were hit. Quickly, Walter succeeded in sending a bullet through the loophole. The rifle barrel suddenly disappeared, with a shout that four men rose from their cover and advanced toward the building at a run. As they did so, an ominous whirring sound came from the apparatus in front of the house,

and a sudden chill filled the air. Back, shouted Dr. Bird. back below the hill if you value your lives. He then turned and raced at full speed toward the sheltering crest of the hill, the others following him closely. The whirring sound continued, and the concave reflector turned with a grating sound on its gears. As the path of its rays struck the ground,

the rocks became white with frost, and one rock split with a sharp report, one fragment rolling down the slope, carrying others in its trail. with panic-stricken faces the four men raced toward the sheltering crest but remorselessly the reflector swung around in their direction the intense cold numbed the racing men cutting off their breath and impeding their efforts for speed stop cried the doctor suddenly right fire at that reflector it's our only chance he then set the example by turning and emptying his pistol futilely at the turning mirror Bill, Walter and Carnes all followed his example. But nearer, nearer to them came the deadly ray.

Bill was the nearest to his path, and he suddenly stiffened and fell forward. His useless gun still grasped in his hands. As his body struck the ground, it rolled down the hill for a few feet, the deadly ray following it. Then his head struck a rock, and Carnes gave out a cry of horror. as it smashed into fragments. Walter threw his rifle to his shoulder and fired again and again at the rotating disc. The cold had become intense, and he couldn't control the actions of his muscles, and his rifle wavered about everywhere.

He then threw himself flat on the ground, and, with an almost superhuman effort, steadied himself for a moment, and fired. His aim was true, and with a terrific crash that reflected split into a thousand fragments, and Dr. Bird staggered to his feet. Right, he's out of order for a short while, he cried. Quick, to the house while we can. As swiftly as his numb feet would allow him, he stumbled toward the house. The muzzle of his rifle again projected from the loophole,

and with its crack the doctor staggered for a moment and then fell. Walter's rifle spoke again and the rifle disappeared through the loophole. with a spasmodic jerk. Kans stumbled his way over to the doctor. Hey, you hit badly? He gasped through chattering teeth. I'm not hit at all, muttered the doctor. I stumbled and fell just as he fired.

Hey, look out, he's going to shoot again. The rifle barrel came slowly into view through the loophole. Water fired, but his bullet missed. Karnes then threw himself behind a rock for protection. The rifle had swung in Walter's direction now, and paused. As he did so, from the house came a strangled cry in a sound of a blow. The rifle barrel disappeared, and the sounds of a struggle came from the building. Come on now, cried Kans as he rose to his feet, and made his way stumbling forward,

the others following at the best speed which their numbed limbs would allow. as they reached the door they became aware of a struggle which was going on inside with all the strength he could muster the doctor threw his massive frame against the door it creaked

but the solid oak from which it was composed was proof against the attack and he drew back for another onslaught from inside the house came a pistol shot followed by a despairing cry in a guttural roar joined now by Kans

the doctor threw his way to against the door again. With a rendering crash it gave in, and they fell sprawling into the cabin. The doctor was the first one to his feet. Part four. Who are you? Asked a voice from one corner.

The doctor whirled around like a flash and covered the speaker with his pistol. You, hands up, he said tersely. I'm unarmed, the voice replied. Who are you? are you? We're from the United States Secret Service, replied Kans, who had now gained his feet. Game is up for you, and you'd better realize that quick. Oh, Secret Service, thank God, cried the voice.

You get Kaskoff. He has the plans. He's gone out through that tunnel. Where is it? demanded Kans. The entrance is that I am played on the floor. Garnes and the doctor jumped at the plate and tried to lift it without any result. There was no handle or projection on which they could take hold. Oh, not that way, cried the voice. That cover is fastened on the inside. Go outside the building. He'll come out about 200 yards north.

You've got to shoot him as soon as he appears or he'll get away. The three men nearly tumbled over each other to get through the doorway into the bitter cold outside. As they emerged from the cabin, the gaze of the guide swept the surrounding hills. "'Hey, there he goes.' "'Wam, let's get him,' said Karns sharply. Walter ran forward a few feet and dropped prone to the ground, cuddling the stock of his rifle to his cheek. Two hundred yards away, a figure was scurrying over the rocks away from the cabin.

Walter drew in his breath, and his hand grew suddenly steady, as his keen grey eyes peered through the sights. Carnes and the doctor held their breath in sympathy. Suddenly, there was a rifle shot, and the fleeing man threw up his arms and fell forward on his face. Got him, said Walter laconically. I go and bring in the body, Carnes, exclaimed the doctor. I'll take care of that chap inside.

"'Oh, did you get him?' asked the voice eagerly as the doctor stepped inside. "'He's dead all right,' replied the doctor grimly. "'Hell, who the hell are you, and what are you doing here?' "'Like this, a light switch on the left of the door as you come in,' was his reply. "'Oct a bird found the switch and snapped on the light. He turned toward the corner from whence the voice had come, and then recoiled in horror. Propped in the corner was the body of a middle-aged man,

daubed and splashed with blood which ran from a wound in the side of his head. God damn, he said. Here, let me help you. There's not much use, replied the man rather faintly. I'm done in. This face wound doesn't amount to much, but I'm shot through the body and I'm bleeding internally. If you try and move me, it'll easily kill me.

Just leave me alone until your partner's come back. The draughter drew a flask of brandy from his pocket and advanced towards the corner. Here, take a few drops of this, he advised. With an effort the man lifted the flask to his lips and gulped down a little of the fiery spirit. A sound of trampling feet came from the outside and then a thud as though a body had been dropped. "'Karns and Walter then entered the cabin. "'Ah, he's as dead as a mackerel,' said Kahn's in answer to the doctor's look. "'Walter got him through the neck and broke his spinal cord.

"'He never knew what hit him.' "'And the plants,' came in a gasping voice from the man in the corner. "'Ah, we got them to,' replied Kans. "'He had both of those packets inside his coat. "'They'd been opened, but guess they're all here. Hey Who the hell are you? Well, since Kassov is dead and I'm dying,

there's no reason why I shouldn't tell you. What's the answer? I'll leave that brandy handy to keep up my strength. I only have a short time. I can't repeat this. Now as to why I am or what I was, it doesn't really matter. Kaskoff knew me as John Smith,

and that'll pass as well. as any other name. Let my past stay buried. I am, was a scientist of some ability. But fortune frowned on me and I was driven out of the world. Money would rehabilitate me.

Money will do anything nowadays. So I sit out to get it. And the course of my experimental work, I discovered that cold was a negative heat and reacted to the laws which governed heat. Well, I knew that, cried Dr. Bird. But I could never prove it.

And, um, who are you? Demanded John Smith. Dr. Bird, Bureau of Standards. Oh, Bird, yeah, I've heard of you. You can understand me when I say that as heat, positive heat is a concomitant of ordinary light. I found that cold, negative heat is a concomitant of cold light. Hey, um, it's my apparatus in good shape outside.

the reflector is smashed. I'm sorry. You would have enjoyed studying it. I presume that you saw that it's a catenary curve. I rather thought so. It was and it was also adjustable. I could vary the focal point from a few feet to several miles. With an apparatus, I could throw a beam of negative heat with a focal point which I could adjust it well.

close to the apparatus I could attain a temperature almost down to absolute zero but of the long ranges it wasn't so cold due to leakage into the atmosphere well even at two miles I could produce a local temperature or 300 degrees below zero hmm tell me what was the source of your colds liquid helium

those cylinders contain or rather they did contain for I expect that Costco had to empty them I used to have helium in a liquid state. Where's your compressor? I didn't have to use one. I developed a cold light under whose rays helium would liquefy and remain in a state of equilibrium

until exposed to light rays. Those cylinders had merely enough pressure to force a liquid out to where the sun could hit it. Then it turned a gas. Dropping the temperature at the first focal point of the reflection to absolute zero. When I had this much done, Koskopf and I packed the whole apparatus

at us here, we were ready for work. We were on the path of the transcontinental airmail. I bided my time until an especially valuable shipment was to be made. My plans, which were perfectly, would have freeze the plane in mid-air and then rob the wreck. I heard of a dual shipment the TAC was to carry, and I planned to get it. When the plane came over, Kostkoff and I brought it down. The unsuspected presence of another plane upset us a little. I started to bring that one down too. But we'd been all over this country, and I knew there was no place that a plane could land, so I let it go on in safety.

Well, thank you for that, replied Kahn's with a grimace. We robbed the wreck, and we found two packets. One, the jewels I was after, the other a seal packet, which proved to contain certain war department plans. That was when I learned who Kaskoff really was. I'd hired him in San Francisco who was a good mechanic who had no principles. He was to get one-fourth of the loot. We found these plans, though.

He told me who he really was. He was a Russian secret agent, and he wanted to deliver the plans to Russia. Well, that may be a thief and a murderer, but I'm not yet ready to betray my country, so I told him so. He offered me almost any price for those plans, but I wouldn't listen. We had a serious disagreement. Well, he overpowered me and bound me. We had a radio set here.

He called San Francisco and sent some coded message. Think he was waiting here for someone to come. If we followed our original plans, we'd have been miles from here before you even arrived. He had me bound and helpless, as he thought. But I worked my bonds loose a little. I made sure not to let him know it. because I knew that the plane I had led get away would guide a party here.

I thought I might be able to help out. When he came and attacked the house, I worked at my barns, and so they were loose enough to throw off. I saw Kosoff stop my cold apparatus, to working, and then he quit because he ran out of helium. When he started shooting again, I worked my way out of my barns, and I tackled him to the ground. He was a better man than I gave him credit for, or else he suspected. me. For just about the time I grabbed him, he whirled around and struck me over the head with his gum barrel, and he tore my face open. A blow stopped me. When I came to, I was thrown into this corner. I was going to have another try at it, but I guess you rushed him too fast. He turned him right

from the tunnel, but as he did so, shot me through my body. I guess I didn't look dead enough to suit him. You gentlemen broke open the door and came in. and that's about it. Oh, no, it isn't not by a long shot, exclaimed Dr. Bird. Where is that cold light apparatus of yours? It's in the tunnel. How do you get into it? If you open that cupboard on the wall, you'll find an open-knife switch on it.

Just close it. Dr. Bird found the switch and did so. As he did, the cabin rocked on its foundations in both cars and wards and Walter were thrown to the ground. The thought of a detonation deep in the earth came to their ears. Hey, what was that?

cried the doctor. That, replied Smith with a smile, was the detonation of 200 pounds of TNT. When you dig down into the underground cave where we use the cold light apparatus, you'll find it in fragments. That was my only child,

and not sure as hell take it with me. As he finished, his head slumped forward on his chest. With an exclamation of dismay, Dr. Bird sprang forward and tried to lift his prostrate fall. Then, in annoyance, the doctor tightened his grip on the dying man's shoulder, but Smith had clasped into a heap. Dr. Bird bent forward and tore up in his shirt and listened to his chest.

He then straightened up. He... He... is gone. He said sadly. I guess the results of his genius have died with him. He doesn't strike me as a man who left too much a chance. Garns, is that your case completed?

Yeah, very satisfactorily, doctor. I have both of the lost packets. All right, then. Come back to the wreck and help me with my burros. I can make my way back to Fallon without a guy. You um, where are you going, doctor? That, Carnes, my dear friend, it's not your goddamn business. Permit me to remind you that I am on my vacation.

I haven't decided yet just where I'm going, but I can tell you one thing, it's going to be somewhere where you can't call me on the phone. My father was a police detective in Texas. One of his cases still has in question what kind of evil humans are really. capable of, by crest, old razors. I'm originally from Ireland, as was my father and his ancestors. Originally, they were among the wealthiest people in the country, until the damn blight hit. After its rampage, my ancestors slowly moved from poverty into what I'd say is upper-middle class through the lower part of the upper class, not really rich, but enough to indulge in

expensive things like boats and art. Tired of the constant. and harassment from the English folk in his hometown, and in Britain itself where he frequently visited to do business. He moved to the United States in 1948. He originally served in the Second Great War, and was a hero amongst his comrades, saving their lives from the likes of Nazis and Japanese forces. After serving there, he settled in Massachusetts, where he got a job at a police station about a half-mile from Worcester, which only accepted him because he was a smart and could easily tell if someone was lying. But there he worked on several cases,

even on the infamous Widy Bulger case. However, he got bored and soon moved down south to a relatively decent-sized town, about an hour from Dallas. There he was won off, if not the best, on the force. He would always wear a dark suit jacket, white-brown leather pants, and dark shoes to fit with a blue tie.

His green eyes, dark-brown hair, tall and slightly muscular build were enough to make you question if you should even spit at him, but, well, I'm getting off track. So, one night when he was finishing his paperwork, he received a letter from a man named Emil Powers. Emile told him in the letter that his daughter was missing, and attached was a sketch of the abductor, or what looked like him. Ah, till morning, he thought to himself. When his boss, Mr. E, arrived at the office, he immediately told him,

about the letter. Despite not having a good relationship with Mr. E, my father could tolerate him. E was a notorious supporter of segregation and discrimination, which my father hated with all his heart and soul, since he'd experienced it firsthand in England, and even in Texas. Well, son, they said nothing like I ever seen since I was a small fellow. Why don't he put it aside and focus on another case? One regarding... Not damn folk. He said, Oh, I prefer this case, my father answered. Mr. E knew there was no change in my father's mind.

He was a lot taller and not willing to take any of his shit. But still, he stood firm. Ah, you fuckers at all, he's so firm like Stone. That's why I like you, and why you got the job. He ain't willing to back down, even if the odds are against you 99 to 1. Well, if I said no, he had to suit my ass. I'm not willing to take that chance to an Irish drunk bastard

Mr. E shrugged My father could take it He'd been called worse Instead of saying anything back He just stared blankly at him I shall do as you wish I work on that Case when you're complete with your other

I'll get the hell out of my office Before I cut you a paycheck Mr E shouted My father From now on we'll call him Liam Our family's most common name Left the office and sat at his desk.

He began his work on a disappearance of a 14-year-old girl who'd vanished seemingly without so much as a trace just days prior to him joining the police. Attached was a sketch of the person who was supposedly responsible for the disappearance. Little did he know that what he was dealing with was the work of a madman or, as others say, a serial killer. Liam worked day in and day out,

up at 4 a.m., leaving at 11 p.m., never wishing to be late and always giving us good night hugs while we slept like logs outside a cabin, waiting to be chopped and hoared into the burning flames that keep humanity warm. His reasoning was that crime never sleeps, so neither should he. I wanted to let him sleep so I could take care of his work, but he told me to follow my own dreams. I knew I couldn't convince my old man, so I let him be. One day he came across a link between his previous case, the one involving the 14-year-old girl's disappearance. and Emil's letter.

You noticed that both of the victims described in the cases were last seen near telephone poles, and that the sketches of the supposed abductors were eerily similar. Both had the same nose, same hairstyle, shoulder length, had a green 1963 Chevrolet pickup truck, an eerily similar license plates, with the last number being either a five, six or nine. Maybe it was just another coincidence,

like he'd received several times, but, well, This was all too similar. He drove out to Emil's address and not on the door. A skinny, slightly shorter than my father, a freaking American man, came out and asked Liam what he wanted. Is Mr. Emil Power's home? I'd like to speak with him. He asked.

Why the hell he'd go with someone like you? You're white folk. Why, and black folk, ain't supposed to be among another. The man responded. Well, I didn't know that. I'm not from around here, sorry. Liam answers. Then where are you from, boy?

He asked. Ireland. Moved here to escape harassment, but seems it's here too, Liam said. You ain't seen nothing yet. Worst yet to come. Excuse me if I burst your bow.

Emil! Get your ass downstairs this goddamn minute. Some person here wants to speak, the man shouted. Come in, Darius. A voice, likely Emil, said. Suddenly a man roughly deris his height came rushing down the steps. He carried his suit jacket in one arm and papers in the other.

Oh, sorry, I had to get some paperwork done for my daughter's funeral. You must be with a police squad, Emil asked. I am, sorry for your loss. I'm here to discuss the letter you wrote. Where was she last seen, as in her location? Liam asked. Kirkland, near the post office, told her to get me some chips for a barbecue we was going to have.

have. I waited for about an hour, since there's a lot of flavors there. I don't take her an hour to choose, so I thought she was saying hi to her friends or at their house without my knowledge. So when I called, they told me she wasn't there. Said someone who claimed to be a relative got her, but then went the opposite of this place, Emil answered. Liam asked several more questions, but I could never remember them. He thanked Emil and left. He headed to his office and sat down with the new information he'd received. He placed both cases on his desk side by side. Liam looked at the cases,

papers upon papers of the case files, descriptions, backgrounds, and other unimportant things that didn't matter to him. He worked until he fell asleep at his desk. Around 8 a.m., he was woken up by his boss. "'Ah, the fuck are you doing sleeping on the job?' he shouted. "'Sorry, sir. "'Last track of time from working too late.'

He replied. Oh, you tell that to me when I lose track of your goddamn paychecks, Mr. Eastbat. Liam said nothing, just went back to reading the cases. But trouble was brewing for him, so he decided to visit Amel again, and the other family, the Antoninogs. First he visited Emil at his workplace, a diner named Viz. Are you again? What'd you want from me?

Can't you read the sign? Emil asked. Liam looked at the sign. reading, call it only. I mean, it was still the mid-60s, and the Civil Rights Act was still months away. I don't care for science, just words. Also, those folks wouldn't want a drunk like me, Liam Smurz.

You, sir, a strange fellow. Surprised you don't go for the whites-only places, Emil said. Well, I've never done so. Those people treat me differently because I have a different bloody voice. Liam added. Oh, damn son, well, What can I get you? He will ask.

Just a cheeseburger, fries, coke, and a chocolate milkshake. He answered. All right, coming right up, Emil replied. As the food was cooking, Liam took out his notebook and pen. I have some questions. First one. I was the last number on the license plate that supposedly took your daughter. From what I could gather, the number seems to be five, six or nine.

I need to know what the number is. Liam asked. I don't know nothing. For what I could tell, some man who saw the whole damn encounter, saw the plate and said the number was a five. Some other who saw it and said it was a six. And there's my brother. He said it was a nine.

That's what I think. It's a five from what I've made out. Emile answered. He placed the food in front of Liam. We began eating. So, uh, don't eat a lot of fast food. He maylost. Not really.

I usually eat my sandwich around this time, but, well, Judy brought me here, Liam answered. They looked around to see other people coming in. Hey, Neil, why you let white folk in here? The man asked. I'm here on official business. Do any of you know anything about the disappearance of his daughter? Liam replied. The place went silent.

No one made a sound. The people all looked at each other, and then one man stepped forward. I do remember one thing I was doing some yard work with my parents I remember when I was getting some water from the holes in the back of the house There's a road there and one in the front When I was done I heard an ear pierce and scream

After I dropped my bucket I saw the truck which is where you got the description from I should get a single photo before the truck sped off After that I called the police But they said it was nothing The man said well that can do some good Liam added

he left after finishing his food and soon went to the Antonino's house after knocking on the door a short Italian man came to open what do for yet he asked is Anthony home Liam asked yeah he's here

boy get your ass to fuck down here this fucking instant you're gonna see Mars the man yelled see papa another man's voice said Then he stumbled down the stairs. Ah, great, another drunk. Go to hell, piece of shit.

Anthony sighed. Look, I'm only going to ask you some questions. Now, where were you when your sister was taken from this place? Liam asked. Don't know. Why don't she ask my fist? Anthony asked. Hey, the man, his father, spat.

Fine, I'll answer. I was out with some friends just chilling at Vitos. All of a sudden, we got ourselves some tough guy who wanted to take us for some fun. And he says no, but he insists we do. About several minutes of this shit, he snaps and drives off and takes off towards my place. I think he don't want to go to my place, but a big fucking mistake. As soon as I get back, the sister's gone. Truck looked the same as the one I saw at Vitos, as Pabbs described it.

Anthony explained. Well, did the other of you see the license plead? What was the last number of it? What I saw was a six, the father, Will, answered. I saw as a nine, Anthony said. Well, thank you for your time. If you have anything more, please contact me. As Liam left, Anthony flipped up his middle finger.

Irish trash, he shouted. Liam just shrugged his head. He drove home to continue his work in his office. As he turned left, right, then left again, to the street near his, he noticed something from the corner of his eye. He pulled over and saw the truck, battered, and lying in a ditch behind several trees. Damn, how the hell did I miss this? He asked himself. He called Emil to tell him of the truck's location. I'll be there in the morning. It's late. Maybe this can lead to my daughter. God, I hope so,

he said. The next morning, Emil arrived and saw the truck. my god Will and Anthony were then called Anthony was soon flooded with memories of that night The man from the restaurant was called And was brought before the truck Both remembered it

And correctly identified it As the truck that they'd seen The only question is Who owns it or who stole it The meal asked Well I'll work on that now Liam replied Thank you

I owe my life to you pal "'Amel added. "'Well, I can ask for you if I need you, "'like Batman and Robin,' Liam said. "'He drove off to find out who owned that particular green truck. "'It would take him a great many weeks to find the one. "'Well, Amil went back home and decided to explore the woods behind his house. "'He took his shotgun and ventured with his dog into the forest.

"'As Amel read his gun, his dog barked loudly, "'so Amil left his gun in a spot. "'Ran over to the canine's howling. tripping over twigs, fallen branches, and other things on the Texas forest floor. Ah, what the hell you barking at, Harvey? What's... Jesus Christ, Emil shouted. What is it, hon?

His wife Susan asked. Oh, come see this. Susan wept and screamed as soon as she saw the bodies in the trees. The police took the decomposed blood-soot remains to the autopsy room. There, they were identified as Emile's long-lost daughter Francine and Will's daughter Viviana. Both bodies show sign of cuts and Blount Force trauma. It was concluded that they'd been killed by Blount Force. Their bodies appeared to have been placed there, so the location of the actual killings was unknown.

Liam was caught in, and he immediately knew that this was the work of a madman. Liam soon arrived at Amel's house. He barge passed him with a force like that of a train hitting an elephant. He quickly arrived in the woods and saw the tree where the two bodies had been found. There were still bloodstains on the bark of the tree. Liam put his fingers on the bark, the blood seeping onto them. Oh, Jesus, he said. Whoever did this is a freaking monster.

I want his damn head on a spike, Emil shouted. The police who were there looked at Liam, wanting him. wanting him to think of something quick. He, analyze this. I'm going to a car dealership, one that sells these, he said. He looked inside the truck for anything useful. There was next to nothing in it,

except for some receipts, a knife, a 22-caliber handgun, had another paper that had faint words, barely readable, saying Fabio's Garage. That's what he thought he saw in it anyway. He drove to Fabio's Garage. He exited his blue 1965 Fort Mustang and approached the owner, the aforementioned Fabio.

How can I help you today? Fabio asked. Do you perhaps know of someone who bought a green 1963 Chevrolet pickup truck? He asked. I'm sorry, had several people buy the same damn truck. Can you be more specific, eh? Fabio replied. Liam held up the license plate, which he'd secretly taken from the back since the front was buried in the dirt. "'Hm, yeah.

"'I believe that was given to Andre Hopkins. "'Never thought he'd be caught in this shit fest,' Fabio added. "'Look, I'm sorry for disturbing you. "'I know this is a lot,' Liam said. "'Then he left to find Andre. "'Andre lived in a run-down part of the city. "'Leanardtough approached and knocked on the door. "'Please, open up, Andre.

"'I just want to talk,' he said, knocking on the door violently. "'No answer.' So Liam knocked again. Open the goddamn door, damn it. Liam shouted. Fuck off. A voice shouted back. Andre, I just want to talk.

Father Mandman, fucker. The voice replied. Oh, Andre, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. Liam shouted. Suddenly a large, overweight young man came to the door. His clothes were slightly tattered and covered in a red liquid. it. What hell you want? he asked. Andre, I just want to talk.

Where were you when Emil Power's daughter and William Antonino's daughter were kidnapped and killed? I was driving around after drinking. I had to pick up some folks and brought him to the forest for some bird watching. Andre answered. Who were the people you picked up? What was the forest like? Young kids, both girls. Had a fun time.

Screamed on the way there, they were too damn happy. And, uh, what were their names? Liam asked. Some Italian name and black girl, Francine? Did you put him in the tree? Leemost. Only for the bird watching. They wouldn't shut the hell up about going home, so I beat him.

Oh, might have killed him. Can I come in? Sure. Liam entered the next to run-down apartment. There were beer bottles, pornographic magazines, and papers everywhere. He listened as Andre described his life. And then, as Andre held up a gun, he pointed it at Liam. You know, I just realized your voice sounds funny.

You ain't from around here. You're from out of the country. You know what? Folks like you deserve to go the fuck back to your home. country. With that, fired the gun at Liam, but missed.

He then began to grab a beer bottle, but was tackled by Liam before he could throw it. Yet you damn filthy hands off of me, Andre shouted. Andre Hopkins, under arrest for the murders of Viviana Antonino and Francine Powers,

along with attempting to assault a police detective. Liam then pushed the sloppily dressed man into the back of his car in cuffs. He delivered him to the station where Mr. E. Spattered him. After several hours of interrogation, Andre was housed in the holding cell, where he'd be transferred to a jail.

He was finally brought to trial nearly two years later. My father told me all about this trial, but I fell asleep since it was so long and boring. Andre, according to my father, pleaded not guilty by cause of insanity. But the judge and jury weren't having it. He was sentenced to a hundred years for Francine's murder and given the death sentence for Vivianas.

As he was let out, he shouted at Liam, Will and Emil, swearing at all of them. For years, Andre sat on death row, awaiting the time to meet his maker. But just three hours before he was scheduled to die by the chair, something came in. The federal government had just abolished the death penalty. Andre, along with the other death row inmates across the country, had their sentences commuted to life in prison.

Andre, being a dangerous offender, was given no chance of parole for a hundred years. Funny since that meant he would never get out. Nope, Andre would never get to experience the freedoms of other non-death-row prisoners, like shopping, seeing family and all the other stuff. But one night when my father, was eating his dinner sandwich, he received word of something that would haunt him. Emil called him, and said the words that made my father drop his food, making it fall harder than Hannibal's elephants did when they fell trying to cross the mountains on the way to Rome.

Yeah, Andre Hawkins just escaped. Prison officials let him go shopping for his good behavior. He just vanished like a ghost, Amil said. so he was out not by him being released from prison but because he had escaped now he was on the run and was lurking out in the shadows Liam ran outside and panted

looking around his property in hopes to catch this deranged motherfucker he'd work for weeks for months on end to find and then get this psychopathic monster behind bars so that he wouldn't harm another hair on another soul but now he was out there, possibly looking for him. Right, are you here? Come on, where are you?

He muttered to himself. When he was angry, no one would dare cross his path. If they did, they'd feel the wrath of God and his army coming down upon them like a heavy rainfall during a monsoon. He huffed back into the house, decided then to go back to work. While working on the case of Andre's disappearance, he would hear strange noises from inside

the house. Thinking it was probably just his kids or his pets, he tried to shake it off, but what he would hear would nonetheless make him shudder. Something or rather someone very familiar was inside the walls, waiting to strike him at the perfect moment. After several years of Andre being free and on the run, Liam continued the for him. It was 1978 now and Liam started working on some unsolved cases from El Paso and Houston. Around this time I was only 20 and had moved away, not knowing what my father was doing since I didn't read the local paper or see him too often, but he was always working even on holidays. Like a kid at a candy store, he could just never stop. Liam was busy filing his cases so he

could focus on other things. Despite his frustration, he was not willing to give in. Most of the squad, including Miss Dee, had given up and said, well, Audrey had probably died or someone had gotten to him. One day, after hours of working, he went outside to get some sun. He didn't usually get much, and the doctor had recommended he did, so he wouldn't become like Dracula at only 56. He was upset by this, but soon realized that this would eventually lead to more grisly findings. Well, Emil was around and would all sort of.

step into help. Now Mr. E, although not entirely for this, eventually let Emil help. He'd had a change of heart since reading the works of Malcolm X and Martin Luther King. And one night, as William walked along his back porch, he smelled something foul, like a dead animal. He went to investigate and track this smell. They order led him to a patch of bushes. When Liam approached it, he gasped. There lay the body of a young boy, looked to be about age six or seven. He had bruises on his left arm and his right arm was missing. Liam found it in a stream nearby.

Emil contacted him to tell him he'd found the remains of another child in the woods, albeit a different tree from where his daughter had been found. Liam called his police friends and they arrived within the hour. Liam was questioned and the houses were quickly searched. We're going to have to go somewhere. Hotel, maybe. Fine, I just hope it's not for too long, his wife, maybe, answered. So they packed some things for a hotel and let the police do their work.

Liam would go back and help, and he'd soon learn from the locals that more bodies of young women, a man and more children have been found. Someone near the highway, others in the forest, and others nearer the houses. Only one of the family members of one of the victims came forward to help. give a description of the killer, now dubbed the Texas killer. Liam would get his hands on the sketch and noticed some odd details. The way it was drawn, it was similar to that of Andre. Was he out there, needing to be caught?

He was, before he struck again. Damn, that dirty son of a bitch, Liam, Liam muttered. And so he drove, for hours and hours on end. not filing a damn trace of Andre. Then, we finally got home. He heard the noise. The police had done their research in the house and had left. Liam grabbed a knife from the kitchen.

He was ready to strike. Who's there? He asked. Nothing. Just silence and the darkness in front of him. And then another creek came from inside the house. Hey, I ain't fucking around. Come on, coward, show yourself. Then, with a loud thump, a man bolted towards Liam, pounding him to the floor before he began to shoot him.

Andre, what the hell are you doing here? Liam asked. I might as well get my vengeance on you, Irish donkey, putting me away. You had some balls for that. Well, let me see you go to hell. or maybe had gotten out of the car and shrieked when she saw his face Andre then bolted towards her

knocking her down and violently assaulting her Liam tried to fight back who was knocked to near unconsciousness Andre had soon dragged maybe into the bedroom and had begun to rip her clothes off he then tried to force himself upon her as she cried out violent hot tears of fear

Liam was next to passing out and with all his remaining strength, he called Emil and Will and told them to come to the house and also to call the police. Amil did so, and then he arrived at the house with a shotgun, while Will came with a butcher's knife. Get the fuck away from her, you dirty-ass pig!

Emil shouted. Andre ran past Emil, knocking the gun from his hands. He then found one of Liam's pistols and grabbed it. And then he ran. He left the building. and made his way to a neighbor's house, where he broke in and grabbed hold of their kids. He came out slowly, with the gun aimed at the kid's head. Come on, you fuckers. You bring me back to prison. Do it.

This kid makes his maker. André shouted. Then Liam limped out, gun in hand. Don't shoot a kill. Shoot to injure, you hear that? I want this bastard alive. Liam ordered as the police arrived. Please, sir, don't. The boy cried. Look, this doesn't have to be like this, Andre.

Let him go. Liam begged. So he can go back to his perfect family? No. Hey, never had that chance. My father was a fucking pig. No job, he drank, he was so abusive. I wanted that old man dead,

and I got my wish when he got the chair. Hey, I never have a happy life, so why should others? Look, not all families are perfect. No family's perfect, not even mine, hell. I spent most of my time hunting for you. Barely got to say hello to my children, Liam answered. Yeah, still better than what God gave me. He fucked me over too many times,

and now I repay the favor by doing the same to him. See how he likes it. Liam lowered his pistol, placed his hands on his hips. But Andre wasn't having it. He shot the boy in the head. No, Emil shouted. Liam ran towards Andre, who by now fled into the woods. He fired and so did Andre.

Wasn't until Andre had either lost his breath or tripped over a branch that he was caught. Well, he heavily resisted, and so had to be subject. And he eventually was caught and arrested. At the separate trials, he pled not guilty to all of the counts. He eventually was charged with 12 counts of murder, five counts of attempted murder, two counts of kidnapping, seven of rape, and two counts of escaping the law. In the end, he received nine death sentences, three life sentences, four twenty-year sentences, eight, ten-year sentences, and six five-year sentences.

He just smiled when he heard all of this. When it came to the life and death sentences, though, he wailed and wailed. In the end, some of his death sentences were commuted to life, reducing the number of death sentences to only five. He spent several more years on death row, always denying his guilt. He would file for appeal several times,

but would be denied every single one. And then the day came, April of 1997, and my father asked me to come with him. I obliged, being the decent son that I am. Andre's last meal was a cheeseburger, french fries, a Coke, and a chocolate milkshake, just like my father had had when he was at a meal. Why did you choose to eat that? Liam asked. Simple. Because you did, Andre answered, smiling an evil grin.

Why have all people me? Liam asked. Did you not see me? I was there at Emiles when you were questioning him. It was in the window. He had every chance to catch me, but said no to it. So tell me, Irishman. Are you really the genius you think you are?

Because you'd have noticed me. Andre answered, smiling his evil smile once more. Hey, time to go, Hopkins. a guard's head. Andre took his last shower and spoke with a priest. We weren't allowed to hear the words due to confidentiality

and because he told us not to. My father, myself, along with the victim's families, Emil, some of Andre's family, and Will and Anthony all gathered in the watching room. As the curtains were drawn, Andre lay on the gurney,

flat and motionless, completely drained of any emotion. Andrei Hopkins, you've been tried, convicted, and sentenced to death by the state of Texas for the murders of her. He began to list the names of the victims. I couldn't remember most. Only some like Taylor Pearl, Kendrick's Henderson, and Faith Selvian. Do you have any last words? The chaplain asked.

I know what I did was right. God always told me to piss off, so I told him to do the same. "'Come to think of it, I'm a sinner. "'I've caused hell for everyone, "'and I deserve to suffer because of it. "'I hope I can go in peace, "'knowing I'm no better than a street rat,' "'Andre said crying, and in conflicting tones.

"'No one could really know if he was sorry at all, "'or if he was just faking it to get his death sentence commuted "'so that he'd have a chance to escape and kill more kids.' "'As the injection process began, "'his eyes rolled back, and he lay stone cold, not moving. He was pronounced dead at 7.15 p.m. The warden said this was one of the fastest executions,

as they usually take hours. But after that, my father and I hugged. Then we left that god-forsaken prison and headed back to civilization. My father went on to live until 2017, to the ripe old age of 96. Amil lived until he was 92 in 2009. and well made it to 87.

He died about a decade or so after Andre Hans. Anthony, Emil's son Henry and I live relatively close to one another, and we're all still friends. Since then, I haven't talked about Andre to anyone, though. I prefer to keep that memory locked away for when my kids get older. Maybe it's best if I never tell them.

Hands. My halfophobia experience. Dear internet To anybody who may be reading this I'd like to share a secret This is a truth about me That I've been reluctant to share with anyone For as long as it's played me

This is a truth that I've fought countless times To no avail I've even simply tried to deny it Though like a parasite It would never leave me For as long as I can remember I've been half a folk Now, you might be wondering, what the hell is that?

And to you, I'd respond with my deepest envy, as I'm jealous of your blissful ignorance. I'd also explain that haphophobia is the fear of being touched and of physical contact. Prolong physical contact makes me nauseous, and hands are my biggest fear. Now, I imagine you'd find that amusing, and if you do, I fully understand. I myself am aware that it's completely irrational, but that obviously isn't enough to chase away a phobia. I doubt writing a blog will be either,

but I just felt I should share this with somebody, even if it is with people who may or may not care. I don't know specifically when this started, but from some time in my childhood, I have been terrified of people even coming near me. It started off, innocent enough. Whether it was with the kids at the park or at parties held between my mother and her friends, I'd always keep my distance from the kids around me, especially the boys.

Now, I don't mean to be rude or prejudiced, but boys would always make me uncomfortable in particular. My parents simply thought it was a sign of maidenship, but I didn't feel like it was. It wasn't that I felt like playing rough was improper, but rather that I was afraid of what might happen if I were to make contact with somebody. Adults mostly found it cute, so they didn't think reinforcing the fact that touches indeed not lethal was very necessary. From where I stand today, I would say it was clearly very necessary, but obviously you can't change the past. Judging by my predicament today, however, sometimes it feels like even the present is unchangeable. From around the age of seven, I believe is when this phobia of mine really started to take hold of my life.

I was past my days of being a baby or a mere toddler, and I was starting to feel like I could really become whatever I could dream to become. This was just one of the many things I could thank my mother for. It was her that had helped me most along my journey of life, and the only one I could thank for my strong optimism. Despite this, she was still unaware of my fear. I'm afraid it was such a thing. thing that nobody, not even family, could have helped me with, though people did help in

making it worse. It was June 27, 1999, and some of the girls in my class were organising a sleepover to celebrate the coming of summer, though mostly summer break. Around this time, my fear had weakened its grip on my life, and I was beginning to make a lot of friends. I guess I was a social butterfly all along, you know, without the fear weighing me down, but it wasn't apparent until that grade one year. I was good friends with one of the girls who'd organised the event, or rather their parents had, and so I was invited. Naive old me, however, wasn't actually aware what a sleepover was,

but I trusted my friend and decided to go anyway. Dressed in our pajamas, Lucre and I had been dropped off at Cindy's house for a sleepover on the 29th, and boy, were we excited. What I'd imagined was a night of lying in our beds, staring at the ceiling and sharing stories with each other as we slowly fell asleep. And I had a feeling Luca was more knowledgeable. We were welcomed into the house, being the first to arrive, and we just started off chatting in the living room. As more and more kids started to show up, however, we eventually relocated upstairs, where Cindy had planned a night of games and fun until the morning came.

Marching up to her room and taking a step in, everybody was mesmerised by her amazing room, which, in retrospect, was the most girly room in the world. Her bed was especially queen-like, being big enough for all five of us to fit comfortably on. Whatever Cindy had planned to do would have to wait, as her massive bed had inspired my friend Luca to sprint onto it, raise her fist and yell, pillow-fite! all the girls immediately follow behind her to claim their weapon of murder though I'd stayed back instead I stood there with my hand shaking as I struggled to fight back an old friend it seemed that only my fear for the possibility of being touched at lessened but I was still anxious if it was certain to come I didn't want to look odd in front of my friends so I inched up to the bed and sort of sat on the very edge.

After a couple of minutes, before it finished tossing their pillows out and were exhausted from the work. Well, I didn't want to seem like a bad sport, so I told them I'd go downstairs and get some drinks to help them rest, though, as I said it, Luca seemed to get a mischievous glint in her eyes.

The girls must have discussed something when I went downstairs, because as I re-entered the room, I heard them snickering. I set the Kool-Aid jammers down on the bedside table and sat beside it. As expected, the girls crawled towards the table, but as they did, they seemed to be eyeing me down. Due to my fear, I immediately went into defence mode upon detecting danger, but I was already too late. I could only remember what proceeded as one of the most terrifying moments of my life.

One of the girls, Rebecca, had grabbed me from behind and had me in a lock with my arms useless above my head, while the other three pinned me down to the bed. I realised that they were planning to attack me while I was downstairs getting the drinks, probably because I'd sat out the whole game of the pillar fight. All three at once dug into my torso, tickling me against my will. fingers brushed against my ribs and stomach and I struggled to keep breathing as a wave of panic washed over me I could hear there giggling as I struggled against the rains holding me down

but I was too weak my lungs were empty and I felt like screaming but couldn't though with every breath I could feel the air escaping me like a deflated tire finally I could no longer take it and I started to sob which the girls had thankfully noticed

lying curled up in a ball, I felt violated and vulnerable, and if I'd had the energy, I would have run. Cindy's parents came rushing upstairs from hearing me crying, and tried their best to comfort me, or they tried to piece together what had happened. Well, I didn't want my friends to get in trouble, since they weren't trying to hurt me, but at the moment I was seething with fear, hate and anger, and too many other emotions to speak. As I found out later, Cindy was grounded after the sleepover, and even during the party, I imagine the mood had been ruined by my pathetic number. Cindy's parents gave me a ride home and were really nice about the whole incident,

but the entire ride home I couldn't help feel like the whole situation was basically all my fault. I realised my friends were simply playing a friendly trick on me, unaware I was going to lash out like that. They would have known about my fear if I just told them about it. As we drove in silence, I could feel myself tearing up. Me, I thought, that's what's wrong. If it wasn't for my stupid fear, this entire thing would never have happened. I felt guilty and ashamed of myself, being afraid of something as simple as being touched.

It's not like they're going to kill you. I mean, they're your friends. I blame myself for the incident the following days and didn't speak at all to Cindy or Luca. They would give me an apologetic look whenever we'd accidentally make eye contact, but I tried not to make them retelling their gaze. Even though Luca had faced me the day after, and apologised, my guilt still remained, along with my fear. That night, however, I'd rushed off to bed right after Cindy's parents drove me home,

partly because I was tired, but mostly because I didn't want to discuss with my parents what had happened. Cindy's parents were understanding, so they only told my parents that I came back because I wasn't feeling well. I'd brush my teeth in a hurry and took off for bed, all the while acting like I was coming down with a fever or something so I could get to bed fast. I lay down on the soft pillow and hoped to put the night behind me as my eyes slowly wavered and closed shut. Also that night, I remember I had a dream, or I guess it was more of a nightmare. God, it wasn't bad enough that I had had a panic attack at my friend's sleepover. I also had to have a nightmare to close off the night. From what I can remember, my dream had begun with me lying on a raft of wood,

drifting listlessly across a sea with water as far as the eye could see. I sat up and blink my eyes, looking at the only thing that stood out in the scene. Me? I seemed to be older, much bigger than a seven-year-old girl. Around me the air was cold, and the wind felt like it was piercing through my shirt. I sat on the raft for what felt like hours, wondering if there's anything I should be doing. The dreams seemed to be messing with my common sense, as I was not at all shocked by the fact that I was floating alone in a sea on a small raft. Suddenly, though, the raft was stable in the sea calm. My wooden platform began to inexplicably sink. I at least knew the basics of swimming in real life, but in the dream I seemed to be helpless in the water.

I stretched out my arms and legs to float, but I was somehow still sinking. I began to thrash desperately to try and stay afloat, but despite my efforts I was slowly falling below the waves. Suddenly, though, right before my head went under, I was met with a touch at the centre of my back. Reflexively, I jumped and gasped, almost taking in the seawater. Slowly, though, the hand fixed its palm on my back, as if trying to keep me from sinking to the bottom of the sea. That's not what I thought at the moment, though, as my heart raced and I tried even harder to try and escape what had waited me below the surface. With the arrival of the first hand, more and more hands started to emerge from the depths, each finding a spot on my body to latch onto.

Two hands grabbed my shoulder. One held my head up. Two supported my waist. A couple situated at my elbows, and four more kept my legs up. When my head was above the water, I was sputtering to breathe. The hands were helping to keep me from drowning, but I ride. and squirmed against their touch, anxious to escape this torture. It was hard to tell in the water, but I had a feeling I was breaking into a cold sweat.

My skin tingled where the hands had touched me, but I tried to reassure myself that they were helping me. For a while, the hands kept me in place, making sure I wouldn't fall to the depths of the cruel sea, and I fought to keep myself calm and thinking straight. However, all of a sudden, the hands had switched from supporting me to taking hold of my body. I gasped in surprise, making sure to take a deep breath in anticipation of what was to come. Then with one swift motion, the hands had pulled me under water, and were now pulling me down to the bottom of the ocean. My deep breath of oxygen was useless as my heart was racing past the speed limit, and my mind rushed in a million directions. Panic took over me as I wrestled against the hands that secured me well, but my strength was outnumbered.

Soon more and more hands began to surround me, grabbing every bit of exposed skin. I could no longer feel my clothes, and the fingers felt my bare skin as I was stretched out and dragged into the depths of the sea. As my lungs neared their end, I shut my eyes, open my mouth, and let out a scream of pure fear and agony. Suddenly, the water, and the hands were gone, and once again I was lying on my bed safely under the covers. I didn't have time to wonder if I'd actually screamed in real life, because I immediately felt around my bed.

No, hands, thank God. I was also relieved to have my clothes back, I curled into a ball, buried my face in my hands and began sobbing like a little kid. I had no idea what the hell was going on, and I really wasn't curious to find out. All I knew was that I just wanted it to leave me alone. Years had passed since then, and I was 12, studying middle school in the fall. Lucre and I had remained great friends throughout the years, but despite the incident when we were seven, I'd still not shared with her my source

of dread. She'd faced me the day after that night to apologise and ask why I'd freaked out, though I simply told her, and it was nothing, that I was just tired and caught off guard. She was a good friend, but I wouldn't dare even tell her the truth. I was nervous studying middle school since our school's population was small going in. The year had begun tough since a lot of my friends had moved away, and we had a lot more work. This was partly due to my recent involvement in soccer, as I was having trouble managing practice with schoolwork. Middle school had been great with Lucas' help, though I didn't really have many friends beside her. My soccer career in the junior and senior teams was great, and I felt like a strong part of both teams.

However, things went horribly wrong during the State Championships game, but it wasn't because of failure. I can't blame my team for anything that happened. We'd expected the game to be tough, but we weren't expecting it to be a downright stall. Through much effort and luck, both teams had eventually made it to a comfortable two-two, but were struggling to make it any further than that.

In the final three minutes, however, The opposing team came in for a final and absolute offence to make it through our lines, but our goalie had remained vigilant and shot the ball back behind their lines before they could react. I'd received the ball and run it all the way to their net before any of them could catch up. With my goal having been a success, the crowd and our team burst into roaring applause knowing we'd won, and I fell to the ground exhausted. it. I hit my head which left me pretty dazed on the ground during the celebration. I drained all my stamina rushing the net and I was breathing hard. Before I got a chance to attempt getting up, however,

I was suddenly met with my team crowding around me, but I thought they were simply going to congratulate me. To say I was caught off guard would have been an understatement, as instead of helping me up, they began lifting me off the ground. I was a bit of a bit of. I was a bit of a good thing. I was a bit of taken by surprise and didn't have the breath to tell them to put me back down, beg them to put me back down. I gasped and tried to pry the hands off of me, but there were simply too many. My teammates reared back and launched me into the air, and, for a terrifying second, I hung there, wishing I could escape, but the hands were my only support. I couldn't afford to escape their grasp. As quickly as it

came, my moment of peace was over, and despite my while of flailing, I would inevitably sink back into their grasp. I didn't want it to be like this. I really didn't. My peers, my friends, my teammates were there to support me, but I knew then, and I know now, that I'll never be able to accept their aid. I would never get myself to take their hand. By the time I'd sunk back into the hands from my fall. I was in tears. I couldn't control myself. I tried steadying in my breath to speak, but I was quickly thrown back into the air before I could collect my shattered frame of my mind. Over the celebratory cheers and shouts of my team, my sobbing went unheard. As I came down the second time, however, I heard my team be silenced by a voice that I recognized. Luca. She'd finally

managed to quiet the crowd and get them to put me down. I had my eyes shut, but I could still hear Luca outside of the crowd. She must not have participated in the crowd's cheer. I don't know how, but she seemed to have known about my fear, even though I'd never told her. I assume it is because she didn't accept my lame excuse and had a feeling that something was up the night of the previous incident. Because of the sudden quiet, I pressed my hands against my face to try and make my sobbing on hurt. I was friends with pretty much everybody in my team, and they were all very nice, but it certainly

wasn't easy having a panic attack in front of them. It wasn't easy having a panic attack at all, much less in front of others. I knew they'd give me some space after what happened, but I still felt like I was in danger. I curled up into a ball to minimize my surface area and begged my heart to slow down. I hope my trembling wasn't too apparent. Lucas sat beside me trying to comfort me And I was really thankful to her for that But it still took a while before I finally calmed down Well after that

Lovely incident I couldn't look my team in the eyes Lucre escorted me to the change room and then helped me get home Since the houses were close by we decided to walk home It was still sunny bright and hot So it added to my urge to get home and stay locked up in my room forever. I wasn't in the mood to talk to anybody,

but I couldn't just ditch Luca and walk home alone. Unfortunately, halfway home, she decided it was time to face me about what had happened. Whatever Luca had to ask me, I don't think I wanted to hear it, but getting this over with was probably the best idea. What have you been hiding from me, Megan? She asked me,

what's telling you're going to solve? I responded. What are you talking about, Megan? She exclaimed. I'm your best friend. She had a point, but still, it was difficult. But I eventually told her about my haphophobia. Surprisingly, she wasn't very shot.

I had a feeling, she said, but you might freak out if the team decided to celebrate by tossing you into the air, but I couldn't stop them in time. It's not your fault, I assured her. "'Are you going to be all right?' she asked. "'Fortunately, we'd finally reach my house, "'so I decided to end the conversation. "'Yeah, I'll just need some time alone.

"'And with that we parted ways. "'Well, to my good fortune, my parents weren't home, "'which meant less people to bug me about the long day. "'Grab some chocolate milk from the fridge, "'trujed up the stairs, entered my room, and locked the door. "'In hindsight, keeping the door open, would have let the wind flow and kept my room cool, but I could hardly care less about that. It was barely evening, but I felt drained. Lying on my bed, I could still feel my back tingle from where

my team had lifted me up, as if they left a mark on me. I chugged my milk and set the bottle down on the bedside table, turning over to try and take a nap. It wasn't very hard seeing how tired I was. I closed my eyes and drifted to sleep. Like that night seven years ago, I had another nightmare. You see, my mind's way of coping with a bad day was to make it worse. This time around I found myself on solid ground, at the very least. I was standing barefoot on a cold marble floor with nothing around me as I walked in a straight line on a vast white floor.

The sky was clouded with mist, and I could only see so far around me before my vision plunged into the fog. But what I could see, there wasn't a lot of the fog. anything else besides me in my dream, so out of curiosity I kept walking forward listlessly through what felt like miles of blank white floor. It was just a dream so I couldn't feel myself getting tired, and the dream had made my mind blank. After a while of walking, it had become second nature to me, and I instead shifted my focus to what was outside the fog, and if there was something I should be doing. I focused my eyes on the fog ahead of me, but no matter how hard I look, I looked at I couldn't tell what was behind the cloudy cover.

At this point I was starting to get a little annoyed with how, no matter how far I walked, there was nothing for me to see or do. Fortunately or, unfortunately, to meet my boredom, the sky around me began to darken. The once white room slowly dimmed more and more until it matched the brightness of a dimly moonlit night. However, before I could question the sudden occurrence,

there came a sound of footsteps not far behind me. A step-by-step recreation of my walk cycle was brought to my attention, and whatever was the source of the sound, it sounded close. I only now felt the presence of this thing, because its walking wasn't synchronized with mine. I tried to look behind me to check what it was that was following me, but I realized my head suddenly wouldn't turn. Try as I might

My head was now caught in a figurative neck brace And I could only move my eyes I began walking faster and faster Trying to outrun my doppelganger But the footsteps were just as fast The marble floor was slippery So I couldn't afford to run

Because the thing might catch me while I was down Running from it I knew I would not be at rest Unless I saw this thing that was chasing me Though it very well could have made the dream much more frightening. I tugged my neck back and forth, trying to turn it in the direction of this creature.

Left and right, I struggled, that my efforts felt fruitless. After tugging my neck for a bit, however, it started to move more and more. Slowly I fought against the stiffness and managed to turn my head and shoulders to look behind me. Nothing.

There was nothing behind me. as I stared at and walked away from this mysterious series of footsteps I could see that there was nothing there it was still bright enough for me to be able to see figures so why couldn't I see this thing how to fear I was still walking but I stare through endless darkness unable to find what I was looking for I knew it was there in my heart I knew it was there so why couldn't I see it I could not see its figure but I could tell from its footsteps that this thing was now getting bigger. Gentle steps had turned to thumps, and I knew I wouldn't survive whatever it was that was behind me. I looked away and walked at a brisk pace.

I thought that since this thing had gotten bigger, that I'd be able to outwalk it. I was wrong. It still hovered right behind me. I closed my eyes and tried my best not to let this thing catch up to me, but my run would not be without obstacles. At my new point in this vast empty realm, I was met with many more footsteps around me, though these were occupied by physical forms at the very least.

I couldn't make out any features besides the fact that they looked human. They were walking slower than me, so I had to pass a few as I walked briskly past them. I tried my best not to touch any of them, and for the moment it was relatively easy. They weren't hard to avoid until they began strafing as they walked, moving in different directions with no indication or hint as to their movement. I started colliding with some of them, flinching every time I did. The darkness only served to amplify my irrational fear, as it was now getting harder and harder to see the people walking around.

I could only tell their location from their footsteps. Like my previous nightmare, every touch from somebody was. was felt through my clothes, if I was even wearing any. It was hard to tell in the dream. The population of this empty field was increasing at a fast rate, and there were more people appearing faster than I could avoid. It was particularly difficult to avoid them without slowing down, so I hoped for the best hugged myself and pushed through the forming crowd. Oh, pushing through the crowd was more difficult than I'd expected, and it wasn't because they wouldn't budge. Every touch was like an electric shock and my skin tingled everywhere. It was impossible

to escape the bodies surrounding me as their rustling clothes brushed against my skin. The fact that the crowd was pretty much at a standstill made me have to push through a lot more people to keep going and I could feel my panic building. Combined with the pitch black, the lack of footsteps made it near impossible to sense anybody besides touching them. Since there was nothing to see due to the darkness, I closed my eyes and tried to block out the feeling of pushing through the crowd. My knees were trembling, but I managed to keep walking. I assured myself that their touch would not harm me,

and that escaping the grasp of the thing that was chasing me was more important. Oh, it was close behind me and was getting closer by the minute. I hoped that it would be stumbling. by the crowd like I was, and so far that seemed to have been the case. However, it was still gaining in on me fast. This continued until the creature was about a foot from me. I could feel its presence, though it made no sound but the sound of its footsteps trudging through the crowd. Yet, all at once, both the creature and the crowd came to a screeching halt, stopping me from proceeding any further.

I tried to push through the compact crowd, but the people around me seemed to now be holding their ground, not letting me pass. I tried going left and right, but the people surrounding me had made a wall around me. The circle of people blocking me started to huddle, coming closer and closer. With one swift motion, all of them made a gram for me, trying to hold me down. The person behind me clamped my mouth shut and held me by the neck. The others grabbed me and held my hands behind my back. pinning me to a wall that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. In the silence, the only thing's audible were the footsteps of the creature

that had been following me this entire time, and the rushing sound of my speeding heart. I couldn't stand people touching my face, and at the time their grasp terrified me more than anything the creature could have done to me. I listened in horror as the steps came closer and closer, and despite my retaliations I knew I awoke. wouldn't be able to stop it. I closed my eyes and made asylum prayer, wishing that it was an hallucination of some sort.

The creature stepped close to me and grabbed me by the sides of the head. I opened my eyes to see that it now had a physical form. In the darkness I could barely see its face, but I could tell it was pale, sickeningly pale, but it didn't seem to have an expression. I've heard it pressed down on my skull, and for a second I saw his eyes flash a sickening, pale, iriseless white, staring back at me. His jaw fell open, and it let loose a loud, ear-shattering roar.

I woke up in a cold sweat, screaming like the creature in my dreams. My eyes darted around the room, trying to validate that I was indeed. back in reality, and thankfully the sun was there to dispel my doubts. It seemed that apparently not much time had passed while I was asleep, even though it definitely felt like hours to me. Instinctively, I checked around the room to see if there was anybody else around but me, but obviously there wasn't anybody else in my room. I breathed a sigh of relief and fell back into my pillow, holding my face where the hand had touched me. Well, the dream was as badass, if not worse, than my previous nightmare of seven years ago,

but this time I could definitely feel the malice in these spirits. It was no coincidence by which they'd pinned me to a wall to be met by the odd creature. The experience was especially frightening because one of the spirits had touched my face. Due to my half-phobia, places such as my face, which would normally be off-limits are especially so. Whether it's in my dreams or in real life, I can't stand anybody touching my face or my neck. I always feel like I'll suffocate if something comes even near my face. I guess it's my old claustrophobia, but I didn't want to admit it was. I didn't want another phobia on my hands.

Fortunately, my parents weren't home yet, so I had time to recover from my strange nightmare. I didn't want to fall asleep again, so I got up and decided to pace around. around the house. That incident was at the end of grade 8, when middle school would end pretty soon and high school was around the corner. Once again I would lose most of my friends, but this time our school was fortunately one of the bigger feeder schools. Despite this, on my first day of school, I felt like a complete stranger. I should have felt right at home, but it felt like the people in my class had changed. Most of the people in my classes were. were familiar, and yet I still felt like a nobody. Besides Luca, now I didn't really feel like I had

any close friends. I was never quite bullied either, but I guess there's a first for everything. This incident had started off in science class on third period. It was a long day, and it wasn't even over yet. It was getting to be the end of the year, but nobody seemed too excited. This was the first year we'd had to take an exam in our lives, so we were pretty bummed out. We were taking attendance, and our teacher, Mr. Anderson, noticed that one of the kids in our class, Johnny, wasn't present. I'd seen him in the halls that day, so I raised my hand to tell the teacher the must just be late. Unbeknownst to me, Johnny wasn't just late, but was instead planning to show up late for class with the excuse that he just got to school. About more than halfway through,

he walked into class with a late slip, claiming that he'd woken up late and had rushed to school. Unfortunately for him, Mr. Anderson didn't buy it because of my information, so Johnny was given detention and told to go sit down. After class was over, it was time for lunch. Lunch was always the most crowded, and the cafeteria was always filled to the brim with hungry teenagers. During the first few minutes, the hallways will be over,

overflowing with traffic, which made it especially difficult to not bump into everybody on your way to your locker. Between classes, I'd always make sure to be the first one out to avoid the hallway confrontation, and for lunch my locker was, fortunately, very close to my class, and I'd rush there and proceed to take shelter in the bathroom to wait out the traffic. Today, however, it seemed as though Johnny and his buddies were not too pleased with my little slip-up, and knew I'd have to lose them before I got to my locker. As soon as the bell rang, they were right behind me leaving the class, so I knew I wouldn't be able to walk straight to my locker.

I decided I had to make some detours to lose them. When we left, the hallways were only beginning to be filled, so I had time to put some distance between us. Well, this went well until I got past my locker and turned the corner. Well, there was more and more people filing into the halls, and it seemed like my best option would be to try and lose my chases in the crowd. My plan was simple, and I was short enough in an elaborately designed school to pull it off, but I couldn't help feel a rush of fear.

I realized it was my half of phobia acting up, but I wasn't up for welcoming it. I knew, though, that I couldn't afford to get caught, so I took a deep breath. and pushed briskly through the crowd. At first it was relatively easy not bumping into anybody, especially because I had practice doing so. People would walk in a straight line following the hallway, and there weren't too many of them. Soon though, there were a lot of people in the halls,

a lot more than I was expecting. I'd usually have been in the bathroom waiting out the traffic by then. My heartbeat started to pick up. Once again, I was at a loss for one possible reason as to how a crowded hallway of students could harm me, but my brain would not listen. Every touch was like an electric shock, and there was nothing I could have done about it.

With these continuing incidents, I further doubted my ability to overcome my crippling phobia. I hug my binder close to my heart, hoping it would provide some relief from being in the crowd, some kind of protection. It felt hopeless and futile in the long run. but I kept walking. My mixed fears of my pursuers and the crowd helped with my escape quite a bit.

I walked and walked and walked around the school, taking twists and turns to lose my chases, but they kept on following me. I couldn't believe it hadn't occurred to me that I could have simply waited in the girl's washroom to get them to forfeit chasing me. Instead, I just kept walking through the crowd, taking unexpected turns, hoping I'd lose them.

eventually though the crowd had thinned and i was left very much in plain sight to my followers the population density was now so low that there was next to nobody in the hallway that they had me cornered in it was just them and me and that was not good oh look who we have here johnny spoke little miss big mouth i knew nothing i could have said would have made the situation back better, so I kept quiet. Wasn't very nice of you what you did today. He continued his monologue. It's not nice to tell on others. Johnny looked nothing special, but I knew as well as anybody how hard this guy could hit.

Whether he'd hit a girl or not, we were yet to find out, but I wasn't too excited to know. Go ahead, say something, he urged me, yet I still remain quiet. Come on. "'Fed to come up with an excuse, anything.' "'Despite his constant pushing, I remained silent,

"'trying to evaluate the situation to see if I could get myself out of it. "'Unfortunately, we were in the least populated hallway in the school, "'and I doubted that anyone would show up any time soon. "'I finally decided to speak. "'What do you want?' "'I was genuinely asking him what he wanted from me, "'but I guess he took it the wrong way, because now he looked even madder than before.

What do I want? He asked me, rhetorically. What I want is to be able to take a couple of leaves from class without being ratted out. It probably wasn't the best idea, but I decided to ask him, why were you skipping school then? Even as I said it, I knew I should have taken it back.

It wasn't until that moment that I realized how mad I was myself and how evident it was in how I'd said it. Well, Johnny expected to be able to miss classes and dodge all responsibility without any consequences. He had no worries about life, yet he was still too cocky and spoiled to make it through school. However, my boiling anger was quickly nullified when Johnny walked closer, putting me back against the wall. His sly grin had turned into a sneer, staring back at me. Why? he asked me, grabbing me by the collars on my shirt.

Because I felt like it. Immediately my heart sped up a couple of notches in an instant. I clenched my fists and took a deep breath, knowing I couldn't let Johnny see how terrified I was. I was probably trembling, but there was no way he could have noticed it from the look in his eyes. It's not your business what I do or don't do, he stated. Understand. At this point I realised he was bluffing and wouldn't actually hit me.

Under normal circumstances, I would have been able to talk back to him knowing this. But this time was different. This time my half a phobia was involved. Against my will, I nodded. Good, he said, looking a little calm down. As he let me go, I found a seat on the floor trying to stop my knees from giving out. He looked over at one of his buddies and said, Hey, Jones, you got my math textbook?

Fortunately for him, Jones seemed to indeed possess his textbook. Johnny took it from his hand and dropped it on the floor beside me. You'll be doing everything I've missed so far, he said to me. It is pretty much everything. Apparently out of things to say to me, he simply turned around and walked away with his buddies, looking more relieved than ever. I picked my sorry behind off the floor, took his textbook and set off towards my locker to get my lunch.

These things happen today, and I'm sitting here on my bed in the dead of night typing out this blog post. I don't know how long I've been doing this. Could very well have been hours since I began, but now the clock is telling me it's officially the next day. My reasons for not going to bed already is not because of the procrastination, nor does it have really. in the events that conspired today. I am, rather, afraid of what might happen if I were to fall asleep. I've taken notice of the fact that, in all previous incidents concerning my half of phobia, the next night I would always have a dream that would foreshadow the next incident.

The night of the incident when I was seven had me sinking in a sea, only to get supported by a wave of hands. A very similar event had occurred seven years later when I was hefted up by my teammates and tossed up in celebration, resembling my dream through hands that kept me from falling, hands that would support and yet terrify me. That night I'd had another dream resembling my encounter today, with Johnny, supporting that same feeling of helplessness

and inability to escape what was chasing me. Well, after all that's happened today, I can't get myself to go to sleep. What if I have another nightmare like that? I know the previous nightmares could have very well been coincidences, but I simply can't get myself to believe they were. I don't know what to do, but I guess I'll have to go to sleep eventually.

I might as well face my fate. 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.