Dr. Creepen's Dungeon - S6 Ep356: Episode 356: Seven Souls

Episode Date: July 23, 2026

Tonight’s terrifying story is ‘Seven Souls’, a wonderful tale By Aqibali 1993, kindly shared with me via DrCreepen’s Vault and narrated here for you all with the author’s express permission:r/DrCreepensVault/comments/wh6n7k/seven_souls_section_1_of_3/Please check out his Amazon Author Page: www.amazon.com/author/ringocross

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Stories about hunting souls are terrifying because they explore one of humanity's deepest fears. The possibility that something exists beyond death that can still reach us. Unlike physical threats, a soul hunter cannot simply be fought or escape from. No, it targets something more personal and impossible to replace, our very essence. These stories often blur the boundary between life and death, making us question what happens after we are gone and whether our identity can truly be protected. The idea of an unseen force pursuing us, not for our body, but for the thing that makes us who we are, it creates a uniquely unsettling kind of horror rooted in helplessness,

mystery, and the unknown, as we shall see in tonight's feature-length story. Now, as ever before we begin, a word of caution, tonight's tale may contain strong language as well as descriptions of violence and horrific imagery. That sounds like your kind of thing. Let's begin. Seven Souls by Ringo Cross. The alarm on my phone chimed. I crawled out of bed,

made my way downstairs, and poured myself a cup of coffee. This had been my routine for God knows how long. I come downstairs, greet my wife with a kiss, sit down with a cup of Joe, and mess around on my phone. She bought me this stupid mug that read,

the smartest thing I did in my life was marry my wife. I don't know why, but for some strange reason, I loved that damn mug. Well, for starters, it was the perfect size, and the crude joke used to always find a way to draw a smirk out of one of us, even when we were having a rough morning. I would elaborate, but it's a long story. One of those things only me and my wife understood. She or I would randomly read the message on the mug and chuckle. I've lost count for the number of amazing sleepy-eyed conversations sparked whenever I asked her why she thought it was a good idea to buy it. Man, those were some good times.

It was a simple thing, like making small talk over a stupid mug that I missed. Oh, the realisation hit me about as hard as he had ever hit. Never again would I wake up to the smell of fresh coffee and toasted raisin bread. Never again would I kiss my wife on the cheek and laugh at a snarky remark about me not catching the worm because, well, I wasn't an early bird. our routine had lasted a glorious five years.

I checked my watch. Even thinking about it made me feel incredibly uneasy. I had no idea why I was up or why I kept getting up in the morning. Hell, I didn't even have a clue on what I was going to do with myself or how I was supposed to carry on. I was a mess. My life had taken a turn for the worse and was now heading a hundred miles an hour in the wrong direction.

Things I thought I'd never have to think about, but as well as questions, I thought I'd never have to ask myself. They were my new norm. I looked up and saw all the pictures of us still hanging on the wall. I looked around the kitchen, saw all the keepsakes still lying around. All of it. Painful reminders of the person I'd lost. I knew I'd have to eventually put it all away,

so I could do the same in my mind. God, how do I close this chapter? How do I move on? I just wish there was... I don't know how much longer I can do this. I don't know how much longer I can go on like this. I sat down at the kitchen table. My gun was still there in the same place as the night before.

I stared at it for the longest. I thought about it. What was stopping me? Thought about her. What have I done? Tears slipped from my eyes as I reached for the bottle of Jack. I took a swig. I needed it if I was going to do it.

What the hell, I thought, as I reached for my gun. Just then, there was a knock at my door. I stumbled to my feet, a bit startled, and meandered towards it. I opened it and saw two people dressed like FBI agents, Stanley Man. Surprised and annoyed to see them, I asked, What the hell do you guys want? Hello, you Robert Hutchinson? The man asked. He was holding a vape pen, and not even waiting for my response,

he took a hit and led out a cloud of steam. his partner turned to him she didn't seem pleased by his conduct vaping right in front of me like some addict was obviously unprofessional she looked much younger and less experienced in her colleague i folded my arms and grumbled yeah that's me what about it ah great he said with a smile that left me feeling a bit queasy his voice was scratchy and full-throated i could tell he was a man who'd probably spent a fortune on cigarettes I also sensed that he was someone who shouldn't be taken lightly. We had this odd way about him. I don't know what it was, but he came off as someone who had seen things, things most would never see. Whatever it was that had jaded him, had also taken small bothersome things like etiquette and decency away from him as well.

Wait, is this about my wife? If it is, I already told the police everything I know. The two agents exchanged a... curious glance. Then the mail agent took a step forward, as if I'd invited him in. When he realized I hadn't budged, he said with an expression of annoyance,

may we come in. You can't be serious, I told him. What's the matter? You don't have anything to hide, or do you? He asked. I was quickly starting to not like this jerk, and I didn't even know his name.

Mr. Hutchinson, please. The female agent asked. Sure. You can come in, but the dark stays outside. Ooh, that's cold, he chuckled. The matter is urgent, Mr. Hutchinson. She insisted. Fine.

Come in, both of you. I locked the door behind me and offered them seats at the kitchen table. The male agent's eyes almost immediately gravitated towards the revolver I left lying on the table. He looked up at me with a stupid. a expression glued to his wrinkly face. Well, he was right. If it wasn't for their timely intervention, I probably would have gone through it.

Well, hello, Mr. Hutchinson. I'm Agent Adams, and this is my partner, Agent Harris. I exchanged handshakes with the agents before asking. Hey, um, you guys from the FBI? No, Agent Adams said with a chuckle. He looked over at his partner and asked. Why does everyone always assume that? Huh?

Well, maybe it's a suit. Well, um, who are you then? I asked. Agent Adams flashed his ID. I was a bit surprised to see what it read. Department of Homeland Security. Noticing my look, he quickly added, Before you go and ask what we do,

we're in the paranormal division. What? This is some kind of joke? "'Of course not,' "'Ageant Adams stated. "'Well, he's offhanded, of course not, "'hangered me. "'To be honest, his whole nonchalant routine

"'was getting old. "'I didn't have time for this. "'Geece, leave it to the government "'to waste your time, I thought. "'I folded my arms and frowned, "'waiting for them to get the hint and leave. "'Seeing my annoyed demeanour, "'Agent Harris spoke,

"'Mr. Hutchinson, we'd like to offer you something. "'What I'm about to tell you is class I had information and cannot be shared with anyone outside or here. Oh, great. Now I've been sworn to secrecy. Sworn to secrecy, Agent Adams mumbled to himself. He folded his arms and let out a rather irritated chuckle. We just need your verbal consent, his partner stated, doing her best to ignore his childish

behavior. Fine. Spit it out. That's the spirit. I knew a guy like you would give us consent. to proceed without any problems, Agent Adam said. He then turned to his partner and added,

I told you. He told you what? I asked her. It's not important, she replied. Well, whatever, I told her. Agent Adam scooted his chair closer to the table. For the first time since we'd met, he put his vape pen away.

He cleared his throat all super serious and said, Mr. Hutchinson What if I told you we can bring her back? Bring who back? Samantha. Hey, how did you... Wait, you assholes have been spying on me, haven't you? That's it.

I don't have anything else to say to you guys. I already told that grubby detective everything I know. I stood, told the bosses to get out. Don't come back unless you got a warrant. "'No, Mr. Hutchinson, wait,' Agent Harris implored. "'What, what do you want?' She then reached into her coat pocket and pulled out Samantha's locket. "'Hey, take it.'

I clasped the locket in my hand and brought it close to my chest. I couldn't believe it. He, um, she was buried with this. How did you get it?' "'We have your attention now, Mr. Hutchinson?' Agent Adams asked in his usual smug manner. Clasping on to her silver locket brought back the one memory I'd been desperately trying to forget. For the longest, all I wanted to do was make it go away.

But I couldn't. I couldn't stop thinking about holding her lifeless body in my arms. When I pulled her from the bathtub that day, I would have done anything to bring her back. I'd done anything to make things right. Now here were these two agents telling me I could. I met the tears from my eyes and took a deep breath. I turned to Agent Adams and asked him, What, God, what do you need for me?

Well, I won't be easy, but I'm confident a man in your situation will find a way to get the job done. Now, in order for us to proceed with the whole bring your wife back bed, we'll need you to offer seven souls to the cursed item you're clutching. Curst item? I asked. "'It's a long story,' Agent Harris chimed in. "'That locket that belonged to your wife, "'you need to offer it seven souls before we can do anything.' "'What do you mean by offer?'

"'Well, you'll have to kill seven people,' "'Agent Adams plainly stated, "'as if he was saying something that was no biggie. "'Oh, and when you do it, "'make sure your wife's locket is somewhere on your person,' "'you threw it.' "'What the hell?' I asked. staring at the two of them, wondering if the world had gone mad.

I know, this is a lot of information to take in, but this last bit is very important. It won't work if you don't have the locket with you when you... You know, Agent Harris implied, trying her best to make an awkward situation less awkward. Wait a minute. You guys are serious? You guys are really suggesting I kill people?

That's the idea, sport. Agent Adams smirked. I couldn't help but chuckle under my breath when he said that. This was all starting to sound a bit far-fetched. So I asked, Look, let me see your guy's badges again. This has to be a bad April fool's prank. I mean, come on.

Agent Adams flashed his badge. He gave me this irritated look, as he did it too, as if I was the one wasting his time and not the other way around. He rolled his eyes when I gestured for him to hear me the thing so I could see for myself. He handed it to me and said, Are we really doing this? Well, he thinks we're lying.

That's understandable. Agent Harris told her impatient partner. Well, Adams just scoffed. Hey, how I look like a liar? Oh, yeah, actually, you do, I said, as I examined the picture on his ID. Yep, that ugly mug definitely belongs to you. There's no denying that.

Funny. He frowned as I hand. handed it back. Oh no. You're fine, I told Agent Harris when she went to hand me hers. You sure? She asked. Yeah, if his idea is real, then I'm sure yours is too.

Hey, what's that supposed to mean? He asked. I think you already know. Whatever, he grumbled under his breath. So, um, Department of Homeland Security, huh? I asked. Yep. What about it?

I didn't know DHS believed in ghosts. Congrats. You learned something new. Too bad it's classified info, meaning you can't share any of these life-ordering facts with your friends. Agent Adams said rather casually as he went for his vape pen again. Agent Harris looked over at him and said, That wasn't very nice.

What? He hasn't been very nice to me either, he groaned. Anyway, so when did DHS get into the business of asking its Laura Biden citizens? to do that dirty work. What department are you guys in again? DPI. Now, department is classified, so don't bother Googling it, Adam stated. Okay.

I scratched my head, then. Turning to Agent Harris, I asked. What about you? Look, all I can really say is that there are things, phenomena, the public is better off not knowing about. She replied with a shrug. You mean like UFO? I asked with a sly smirk.

Well, um, not exactly, she said with some hesitation. And, well, I'm supposed just to trust you guys, eh? Agent Adams butted in. Look, what other choice do you have? Either take our word for it, we proceed as planned, or you can decline, or you pretend like this conversation never happened. Hey, the choice is yours. Kill seven people with Samantha's locket on me.

"'That it? "'I'm sure there's more. "'I mean, there's always more.' "'I wouldn't say there's more, "'but there is one condition,' "'Agent Adams admitted. "'Oh, yeah, what's that?' I asked. "'Well, to effectively harvest each of the seven souls,

"'you'll have to target each victim "'based on the seven chakras that exist in the body,' "'Agent Harris stated. "'Really?' I asked. "'A bit skeptical.' Well, based on our findings, these seven points on the human body essentially make up what we call the soul. It's not as far-fetched as it seems. Look, think of it this way.

The seven chakras work as energy fields or gates. And when we die, these gates release. This part is complicated, but to make it sound less complicated, let's just say you'll be judged by the energy you put out and receive. It's actually very specific. but I don't want to bore you with the numbers and whatnot. Well, this is all based on our preliminary findings, of course, but I'm sure our text back at the lab will probably jumble everything up like they always do. Agent Harris paused then.

She took a moment to both laugh at herself for rambling and admire her previous realisation concerning the text back at the lab. Well, none of it I understood, but I quickly understood that she was more of the brains while annoying Adams was more of the bronze. Seeing us both staring at her for our own perplex reasons, she glared her throat and added, Oh, I'm sorry, got carried away. I'll try not to bore you with the details in the future. And besides, I'm sure you have enough on your plate as it is.

Are you, um, eager to begin? Agent Adams asked. Well, um, no, not really, I murmured. Ah, that's the spirit. He laughed. Well, we'll leave you to your work. Oh, and if you have any questions. "'Don't call us,' he said with a snicket. I shook Agent Adams's hand. "'You are an asshole.'

He tightened his grip. "'You break a leg, Mr. Hutchinson.' "'Garry?' "'Ajant Harris crumbled. "'Oh, I'm sorry. Happy hunting.' Agent Harris frowned up a bit. I could tell that her partner's antics were as vexing to her as they were to me. "'Well, thank you for your time, Mr. Hutchinson.'

Yeah, goodbye, I said. I'm not saying much of anything, I stood and opened the door for them. I didn't know what to think. I just stood there and waited for them to leave. I gave a half-hearted wave when they made it to their vehicle. I took a deep breath then after shutting the door. Wow, I wasn't expecting that, I muttered to myself. A part of me wanted nothing to do with this.

Something just wasn't right. Here were these two government agents offering me something that, well, let's be honest, if anyone else had offered me, I would have told them they were crazy and to F off. But another part of me would do anything to bring her back. Even if my chances were slid my hat to do it. I had to try. She didn't deserve, well, we didn't deserve to have our life together upended. I grew up to lock it and made a vow. I'd go to Hellenbach.

if it meant seeing her again. The hunt. Well, I was by no means a killer. Murder was something I never thought about until now. People who kill for the thrill deserved to suffer. I suppose any sane, rational person would think that. What about my case, though? What if the situation became insane and irrational?

What if you were persuaded to act by the very fates? What could be said for those who killed in the name of country? surely a man who defended his home from criminals wasn't a killer oh my dear samantha you were and still are the low of my life i miss your touch i miss your warm smile the way we completed each other i can't stop thinking about you

i know it's wrong i know what they said may prove to be untrue if you can hear this just know that i love you as much as you love me i work the tears from my eyes The possibility of bringing her back filled me with hope Like a glimmer of light that shone through the darkness It was an extreme to match an extreme, I suppose

No words or hesitation I had the knowledge on how to bring back my precious Samantha Now was the time to set myself upon the task given to me Entry 1 The first of my several victims was amongst the most rudimentary Given the nature of the first chakra or what I took a poncho on to calling the base chakra. All I had to do was create a fake profile

on one of the many hook-up apps that were of ill repute. In my illicit profile, I offered to host the arrangement and promised a wild and crazy night. It took all but a few hours to find the perfect victim. I gave me the address to some sleazy motel I booked for the night. Everything happened as expected.

I watched as this whimsical, Reparate got blasted out of his mind at my expense, of course. Once he was good and gone from booze and drugs, I shot him. Shooting him was much quieter than I'd imagined. It's also less bloody than I thought it would be. I suppose I should give much of the credit to the pillow I placed over his head right before I performed the deed. All it took was a single shot.

I stared at my instrument of choice, his smoke rose from the muzzle. To my astonishment, his body turned to ash right in front of me. What I assumed to be his soul rushed into Samantha's locket. I stuttered the odd piece of joy, while the process befuddled me. I know for sure it was his soul or life essence, as some would say, that was now locked inside the locket. Whenever I listened carefully, I could hear his faint screams and cries. I could hear him begging to be released from his newfound prison.

There wasn't much to mention about this individual. He was carnal, capricious and lusche at best. At worst, he was a debauched headnist. I slander him not because of his preference, but because of the simpleness provided by this character. We should all aspire to follow our dreams and seek that which we desire, whether it be man or woman.

As to my first victim, I suppose, it's virtuous in a sense to have lived such an unvirtual. with life. There's no shortcut for saving time, but saving money is simple. Just combine your car and home insurance with Bel Air Direct and save. Get a quote at bellair direct.com.

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philosophy. Directed by Academy Award winner Giuseppe Tonatore, the Film blends documentary and fiction, an intimate look at the Italian entrepreneur known as the King of Kashmir. See Brunello, the gracious visionary, in Select Theatres July 24th. Entry two. The next chakra I had to scratch off my list was the second. I started referring to it as the emotional chakra after further research. This one proved to be a bit trickier than its predecessor.

It took a few days to recover enough mentally and emotionally after murdering for the first. time. I wanted to make sure I was of able mind and body before I began planning my approach to the next time. The first thing I had to do was decipher a logical method in which to even go about finding someone suitable. I was making my morning coffee when I had a eureka moment. I was on my phone browsing through recent news articles when I saw one pertaining to a local artist and how his work was trending on social media. Well, who was more emotionally driven than an artist? I asked myself, I found the perfect app to fuel my nefarious deed. It was both popular and leisurely in its approach to safeguarding information.

I found myself exploiting my potential victim's carelessness and indifference towards internet privacy. His eagerness and willingness to share senses of details made my work far less laborious. The setup was relatively simple. I faint interest in what this individual considered artwork and arranged to meet privately for purchasing. The meeting itself was trifle. I offered him more in attention and flattery than I offered him monetarily for his alleged painting, and I used the term painting and artwork loosely, given the amateurish nature of the seller's work. I'll spare you the details and, the trivial remarks he passed off his eloquent conversation.

I was able to easily charm this foolish bohemian with patience and undeserving compliments. I perused his uninspiring artwork. endured his babble and played along until my gut instinct told me that the moment had come. I targeted the hubris windbag right when he turned his back to me and carelessly began another long-winded tirade against nothing of particular importance. What I gathered from the gist of his painful ramblings was that his so-called artwork had not received proper attention. He compared himself to Van Gogh, of all artists, and went on and on about the significance of his insignificant little painting that I had offered to purchase.

The first bullet struck him in the back. The army raised during his epic speech dropped to his side. He whipped around with a shocked expression. His tearful gaze gave me pause. He covered his hands together as if to pray and plead for his life. That's when I shot him again, before he could grovel for mercy. The whole affair was taxing. so bothersome to the senses, I vowed to forego shooting as a method of execution altogether.

The methods were difficult to digest and even harder to journal. Let's just say that his death wasn't like the movies. He didn't go down after the first, second or third shot. Even the fourth shot fell to end his misery. I assumed incorrectly that he would simply pass like my first victim without much fuss or fight. sadly that was not the case he fought crawled and scraped

he'd gone to life with more vigor than he'd ever used to live it the humour from the distant lack of irony was missed in the heat of bloodshed now that I have time to sit and recollect his demise seemed so inartistic for someone who claimed to be so artistic entry three

finding a victim for the third chakra or what I came to call the ego chakra came to me almost as soon as I began delving into the matter. The first step was creating a fake social media profile. The second, more arduous one, was acquiring a decent number of followers in hopes of giving my page a veneer of legitimacy. The method I became most comfortable with

was following those who were into conspiracy theories of a particularly offensive category and in turn asking them to follow me. Fortunately, my choice in company didn't alter my actual plan, Unfortunately for my victim, vanity proved to be the ultimate form of currency. My target announced that she'd be making an impromptu appearance at a local bookstore, to be there to discuss the ramifications of a recent event

and its conspiratorial implications concerning the supposed Illuminati, as well as their never-ending quest for world domination. This was my chance. I studied her page and waited for her to make the fatal mistake of posting her location in real time. Not where her event would transpire, but to some place more conspicuous, someplace where my work could take place undisturbed. Apparently my target was fond of choosing acquaintant often ottery coffee house to visit whenever she was in town.

She would always order a vanilla latte and later stream herself while driving where she would rate the beverage and answer questions. She'd made the mistake I was waiting for. She foolishly revealed her location. The coffee house she was hating to was in a downtown suburb that I was all too familiar with. It held an alleyway that was almost too good to be true. Since space was a luxury, like any other downtown district, it acted as a parking lot for the coffee house and cluster of other businesses in the area. My plan was a bit risky, considering the deed would have to be done during the day.

Entered the cafe and waited in line behind her, watching with disgust as she streamed the entire affair. fair. Well, she took her time purchasing a latte. The Clark seemed more annoyed than me by her antics, but could do nothing but answer her cynical questions and endure her nauseating remarks. The Clark handed her her drink. I was starting to get cold feet. I couldn't exactly approach her if there were a slew of witnesses. My fears were assuaged when she told her followers that she would continue streaming once she was in the car. She commented on her drink's aroma, and on how bad she desired a taste. With a smile that was as vanilla as her latte, she waved goodbye before finally putting her live stream out of his misery. I positioned myself perfectly. As soon as she

turned, I accidentally bumped into her. I could see the clerk struggling to hide her amusement. This obscure influencer yelled as her latte spilled all over the floor and counter. My faint surprise and relief that it hadn't spilled upon her attire. I immediately apologised. I apologized, offering several times to purchase her a new drink. My ruse went off without a hitch. Her anger and annoyance melted away as soon as I steered the conversation towards treachery and false veneration.

I explained how grateful I was for such a chance encounter. I laid the compliments on thick. I told the foolish firebrand how I followed her on social media and thought her a genius for her insight and clairvoyance. Oh, she was not a conspiracy theorist. She was a truther and the greatest truth-seeker of them all. A claim that her modesty and wisdom had changed my life and opened my eyes. Buying her another latte was the least I could do.

I must admit I was a bit skeptical that this plan of mind would work, given its banality. I suppose when you shower a narcissist with praise, they become vulnerable in the worst way. To think I lured her to the alleyway with flattery and chatter. I listened to her spewine nonsense with her. the look of intent. When we made it to her car, I glanced around to make sure we were out of sight of the curious eye, and then, and then I took the metaphorical mask off and out the monster within agency over me. The memory of squeezing the life out of that lifeless drab of a woman was as vivid as ever in my mind. My instrument of choice was akin to flex cord. The task

was painstaking and arduous. Stangulation was indeed best done with a firm grip. Due to these difficulties, I vowed to always wear a set of gloves when utilising this method of demise. Her death was both brutal and suitable. She spoke into existence her own descent when she spoke into existence her own assent. It wasn't always fashionable to seek what was concealed. Some secrets were best kept hidden away. Entry four. I didn't know what to think when I initially reviewed the fourth chakra.

or what I referred to as the love chakra. I knew immediately what my plan of approach would be, but this awareness made me uncomfortable. If the love chakra would have been the very first chakra, I probably wouldn't have gone through with any of this madness. Seeing how deep I was into this damnable process, it would bother me more not to finish than it would to finish. And thus, with much hesitation,

I created a profile on another popular dating site. I used my recently widowed status as a ploy to lure potential victims. I was sure to include how I was looking for someone sympathetic to my situation. I took a few weeks to reel in the perfect catch, but she was most certainly worth the weight. I will not give away too many details for fear of incrimination, but she was indeed a fine woman of late middle age. Strangely enough, she'd lost her husband some years ago to throat cancer.

I was her first attempt at dating as she just now worked up the nerve to create a profile much like myself or so she thought to say we connected was an afterthought I found myself listening to my conscious more and more the more we communicated the voice inside my head implored me back to my senses but the devil on my shoulder

his words were more persuasive to my sensibilities the two of us grew closer over the span of a month. It took much prodding and goading, but I was able to get her to agree to a discreet rendezvous. Though discretion was gained, seclusion was desired, especially if I intended to fully execute my plan.

Upon my best performance that night, channeling my wife's memory as a muse of sorts. Couldn't have gone any better. We laughed, danced, and held hands. We talked and talked all through the night. I found myself falling for her, and I suppose in another life we could have possessed something great. This unfortunate realisation made extinguishing the life from her eyes problematic, as you've probably predicted. I haven't the reason on hand as to why I continue to reference my plight stubbornly and sporadically in the second person,

as if these recollections were for anything other than my own private collection. I suppose grave deeds speak to the soul like a voice that speaks out from the grave. Oh, Mary, forgive me for allowing such a slow demise, a tragic affair brought on by my very hands in the most literal sense. I'd learned well from my previous victim. Strangulation was best done with a set of gloves. They offered a superior grip and the least resistance. Farewell, Mary.

I pray your soul finds peace I hope your dreams of love died peacefully I didn't lie when I told you I cherished our brief dalliance Entry 5 It would not be a lie or an exaggeration To say that I took a long sigh of relief After my work with Mary was finished

Though heavy of heart I could see the finish line now I could feel it in my bones I was a cruel step closer to accomplishing my dream Well, perhaps dream wasn't the right word. Not all in all, I could say with certainty this was the first bit of relief I'd had since I'd begun. Now the next chakra on my to-do list was the fifth chakra. I deemed this one the communication chakra after a bit of investigation.

I assumed from prior murderous experience the communication chakra would be one of my least difficult when it came to finding a suitable victim. This chakra was surrounded by low-hanging fruit, with all the swindlers and charlatans that ran amok on the internet selling everything one might imagine. Using wit and word to fleece the vulnerable and impressionable left an unrefreshing taste in my mouth, and I had nurtured a healthy grudge for these sorts. One had managed to finesse quite a consequential amount of money out of my wife. The grief and financial distress this caused was substantial, or one of several factors that I believe led to her unfortunate accident. I found my target after only a few days.

Just like my dating profile, I let it be known that I was still grieving over my recently departed spouse. The act wasn't difficult to pull off since it came from a sincere place. I did take much offence to the unintended irony, however. Here I was, still lamenting over my previous victim, Mary, only to find myself using an eerily similar ploy to ensnared, some rapacious lad who was eager to see me part ways with my hard-earned cash. Speaking of my victim, he was the typical greaseball with a forked silver tongue.

It's quite a pity's tongue could prevent a less pitiful final utterance as I struck him in the head with a hammer until his face was indistinguishable from my basement floor. To make a painful story less painful, I pretended coy and lured this blood-sucker to my home. I allowed him to assume his witty words had assuaged my carefully guarded inhibitions. In his mind he was merely luring another sucker into his shameless MLM scheme. After listening to and watching, a soulless man bloviate disgustingly from the mouth as if it were his anus, I goaded him from the den to the basement. I cleverly prepped one of the spaces below into my little kill-room.

I struck him in the back of the head when he was most vulnerable, repaying him in kind for all of the unpaid damages incurred by his victims. The smite occurred while he was busy bungling together lies in praise of my wife's old figurine collection. My only wrette was not being able to prevent her glass owl from shattering when it slipped from his quivering fingers. Luckily it was probably one of her least favourite figurines out of them all. Now, forgive my brevity. A few words to mince or feelings to decipher concerning this imposter, his preposterous end.

There's no shortcut for saving time, but saving money is simple. Just combine your car and home insurance with Bel Air Direct and save. Get a quote at bellair direct.com. Entry six. The sixth chakra, or more commonly called the third eye, was the next on my hit list. The first thought that came to mind was a scene from the Matrix, the infamous one where Morpheus offered near a choice between the blue pill and the red pill. The second thought that came to me was who would make a suitable Neo in my story.

I had quite a few bad ideas which caused me to waste quite a bit of time running through scenarios in my head, crossing out these very same ideas one by one. The problem was the idea itself. How one understood the world could be seen as intelligent to some and myopic to others. What constituted a third eye? Fame, fortune, sanctity, happiness. These thoughts troubled me. I was compelled to look within, more than I felt comfortable with, due to the unique

philosophical nature of my dilemma. Demons lurk near the soul. The deeper I dug, the deeper I sank into darkness. There was a passion to my work, an obsession that teetered on madness. These thoughts fuelled my frustration, added to my difficulty in finding a victim for the sixth chakra. Several weeks came and went with me being no closer to achieving my goal than I was when first started. With so much on the line I found myself racked by inaction, as well as overwhelmed

by anxiety from the pressure of it all. Well, the night it happened, when my inaction turned to action, it was unexpected. After yet another long day of racking my brain, I had had enough. That's when I decided that I need to blow off some steam. I gathered my things and headed to a local pub that used to be a favourite of mine. It was a homely place. I had known the previous owner for quite some time. He was a brash gentleman with a robust appetite and thunderous chuckle. He'd recently sold the place and retired to a small community in South Florida. The pub had never been quite the same place since receiving new ownership. I still found myself frequenting more times than I'm comfortable admitting. I suppose familiarity was what drew me, as well as my desire for some level

of normalcy. I order my usual whiskey on the rocks, followed by a stiff Long Island iced tea. It was an uneventful night. The bar was slow, but not enough so to carry on a conversation with the bartender. A group of young ladies were using the new karaoke machine, the current owners had installed in a wise attempt to draw in a younger crowd. The ladies were entertaining enough. Their performances were a bit rough around the edges, but it was all in good fun. I decided to call it a night after finishing up another round of drinks. I stepped outside and indulged in another of my guilty pleasures, riding up a cigarette underneath the ornard. The cool night air hit my face there. The streets seemed cold and empty. I thought about my

wonderful wife, Samantha. Thinking about her, smile always made me smile. Oh God, I wish she was here. I felt so long without her. My life had become as lonely and empty as the road I travelled upon to get here. Yeah, did you have any change? "'Excuse me?' I asked, looking over to see a disheveled man standing near me. "'Anything you can spare will help.' "'What the hell?' I mumbled to myself. I shook my head, gravely disappointed that I'd let someone sneak up on me as if I were a child busy daydreaming. "'Oh, I'm sorry if I stalled you. I was—'

"'It's fine. What do you need? Change?' I reached into my pocket and handed him a twenty. But you don't have to give me some sad story About how you lost your dog or how your car's out of guess I'm aware of your intentions Whoa thanks man It's no big deal He uh god bless

He said Good day to you two I saw him turn to leave out of the corner of my eye He stopped and turned towards me again asking if Oh Do you have another sig you don't mind sharing Yeah sure I said before handing him one and then lighting another for myself.

I gave him my lighter while asking, "'Cohom, what's your name?' "'James,' he said, before pausing to light up. "'I appreciate the kindness, man. "'It can be rough out here. "'Most people aren't so generous.' "'Yeah, I can imagine,' I said as he handed my lighter back to me. "'I slipped it into my pocket and stated,

"'we live in an unkind world, my friend.' No, I shouldn't be doing this. Should be trying to get my life back on track. Geez, hard man. Don't know, I had a pretty crazy ride. Hey, um, watch your story, I asked. Where do I even start? Let's see, I guess it went to hell after I got out of the army.

Veteran, huh? Well, thank you for your service. Thanks, he grumbled somewhat begrudgingly. Saw a lot while I was in. I think a lot of that stuff followed me home. The crazy part is It was okay for a while Guess something inside of me never really let go

What do you mean? I asked He stared off into the distance I could tell he was distressed and unnerved After laying out a long sigh He uttered Screams, the gunfire Smell a battle

After a while it gets in your mouth Gets on your clothes It gets in your head I don't deserve a good life I don't. Yeah, you shouldn't be so hard on yourself. We all have struggles. Isn't there a biblical quote about this very thing?

Hey, how does it go? No clue, dude. Something about casting the first stone. Oh, you mean that? He said, laughing to yourself. So when they continued asking him, he lifted himself up and said unto them, Hugh is without sin among you,

let him cast the first stone at her. John eight sevens him, Yeah. Well, very well said. What does John 8.7 have to do with me? What you said about your life? Reminds me that scripture for some reason. He thought about it. After taking a puff of smoke into his lungs, he nodded along, saying,

Ah, see what you mean. I don't know why I fell off the wagon. Last everything. My wife, house, my daughters. It's all gone. I don't know, man. I think I last. faith? Well, in society? I inquired. Yeah, man. Well, that's unfortunate. I'm tired of trying

to live for other people. I'd rather die righteous and penniless than live a long and unrighteous life with all the riches. Hmm. How interesting. What he said impressed me. So much so, his words reminded me what I was supposed to be doing. The dream had never died. He felt so close and yet so far away. His findings made me smirk. I was finally able to meet my initial question. We all have a third eye. Not everyone chooses to see.

What was that? He asked. Oh, nothing. I was talking to myself. Okay, well, if you say so, it's not healthy to touch yourself, especially with someone standing right next to your buddy, he mumbled while giving me the side eye.

I know, I said, offering him, another cigarette. Hey, thanks, dude. Hey, there's a diner across the way. How about a meal? When was the last time you had a burger? I asked. He frowned upon my statement and said,

Oh, I'm not a bum. Do get hot meals. Maybe not so much now I'm homeless. Yeah, man. You buy him? Yeah, of course I am. I'm sorry if I offended you, I said with a wicked gleam in my eye.

He handed my lighter back and took a puff from his sick. "'Ah, that's cool, man. Appreciate the help. Come to think of it, I ain't had a burger in a while.' "'Don't mention it,' I told him. I was relieved he'd accepted my potentially fatal offer without even knowing it. Some would think I was being a bit too generous.

Luckily for me, he wasn't one of them. Our encounter could have led to a rather enlightening exchange. Sadly, our encounter met an untimely end before that could happen. I pushed him in front of an oncoming semi-term. truck as we crossed the road. Well, the opportunity presented itself, and I seized upon it without hesitation. His soul travelled into my wife's locket without delay, which was a shock to me. Usually it took a fair bit of time, but I suppose his demise was expedient.

This must have played a factor in him disappearing from existence almost as if he never existed. The semi-swerved and skidded down the road after making contact with Mr. James. It rolled onto the curb near the intersection and crows, and crowsy. crashed into an electric pole. A power outage blanketed the area in further darkness. This fortuitous event made escape a certainty. I took no pleasure in my deed.

I watched the chaos that ensued from the comfort of my car. What I did was irreprehensible. The only solace I could find was in the knowledge that Mr. James' demise was without suffering. Couldn't say the same for his soul now trapped in my wife's locket, but at least his screams were a tad more dignified than all the other. that I'd unjustly imprison. I suppose the third eye was meant to be seen as a metaphor. If not, then I'm surprised he didn't see his demise coming.

So my friend, Mr. James, I hope you one day find peace, the peace that you were looking for. Hades was a place where the kind and unkind languished alike. Entry seven. I'd finally reached the pinnacle of my work. Once I found a victim for the seventh chakra, there'd be no turning back. Elation and fear filled my heart.

I'm certainly not proud of what I've done, but if it was enough to bring back my precious wife, as promised, by those untrustworthy agents, well, it would have all been worth the risk. With this knowledge in mind, I threw myself into my research. I wanted to know everything there was to know about the seventh chakra. In retrospect, the only challenge was in choosing which holy man to target.

I found a church in a sleepy suburb not far from Detroit. I sat in on a few of the pastor's sermons, and his approach was typical. There was song and praise mixed with impassioned speech. He promised the naive and desperate, impossible things. He was a messenger of God, after all, here to bless those who believed. Not to stray too far into my personal history, but I was a religious man once upon a time. Some of my fondest memories consisted of me sitting in church, dangling my legs from the pew in boredom, while listening to the man behind the lector and preach for hours.

Grandma would always entice me to behave with the bag of peppermint candy she kept tucked away in her purse. Her mints were the highlight of an otherwise dull Sunday morning. As a child, it often confused me to see Grandma, who was always so reserved and graceful in all things, raise her hands and be taken by the past his words as if he had cast a spell. And here I was, all these years later, witnessing the same spectacle, as song and dance overtook many a man and woman. I did my best to ignore their antics. I couldn't truly care less, how the next person praised.

I was more concerned with finding a way to strike at the beast behind the podium. He was the piper, and the real prize for me. Bribery was a gambit, all venal men understood, and so I offered a rather large donation as bait, in what I considered to be one of my more grandiose manoeuvies. And of course he devoured it like a greedy shark. I was allowed to meet this snake-old peddler behind closed doors in what he deemed a private prayer session. His office fit his ego down to the decor.

He reached out and shook my hand with an insincere smile. I sat down in front of his desk and listened to him, go on and on about my soul and salvation. His simple-minded scheme consisted of assuring me that he would speak to the Lord Gar and ask him to essentially do all the dirty work for me when it came to bettering myself, but only if I pledged future donations to his church, of course.

Before I continue onto his inevitable butchery, I want some take a moment to state that I respected religion. I may not seem like much coming from me, but what I did not respect was those who prayed upon it. There were a few acts more distasteful than prying money out of the hands of the poor and frail. The psychology of such things was both vexing and perplexing. What took the deed to the level of unspeakable was invoking God to justify an otherwise

condonatory act. Again, forgive me for the brief insertion of my own beliefs into this journal. My goal was to keep things cordial and scheduled. Now, as to the demise of this oracle, let's just say his heart was never in it. I struck after the windbag had finished lauding and gallivanting about like not. mobility. He raved and prophesised for no less than twenty minutes. To make his charade as painless as possible, I played my role. I was the meek, weak-willed, widowed husband, and he was a strong, strident preacher. I nodded in accord and kept my head low as he asked the

Lord to give me strength and purpose. After he grown tired of rambling and postulating, he turned towards his bookshelf and grabbed a pair of inspirational books that he'd authored. I suppose a man of such a low taste wouldn't be content on merely fleecing me. No, he couldn't resist the rapacious urge to wring every nickel possible at him. It would have been quite the demonstration if this toothed draw would have gotten the chance. Oh, it's a shame. I stabbed him right in that shameless heart of his, causing the fraudulent words to falter and slip as his lips twisted and quivered in pain and shock.

The blow itself was swift and unassuming. Fear glinted in his eyes. was exactly the expression of hopelessness I'd hoped for. I sank the blade as far as anatomy permitted, pinning him up against the prized bookshelf. I watched closely and carefully as the light in his eyes flicked and the hue drained from his brown skin. His life essence was promptly devoured by whatever black magic fueled my wife's locket of misfortune. I observed with morbid fascination as the blood coating my knife dissipated. The process in which my victim's body would rapidly desiccate

Never ceased to intrigue me Their husk of a corpse would dissolve into ashes As their soul was seemingly absorbed into my wife's locket There was never blood, gourd or articles of clothing left behind This, as one might imagine, made the process of killing elementary Since I've tried my best to end my entries with a light jest I suppose this one should be no better For a man who lacked kindness and grace, you could certainly say he had quite the fall from grace.

There's no shortcut for saving time, but saving money is simple. Just combine your car and home insurance with Bel Air Direct and save. Get a quote at bellairdirect.com. Final entry. The reason I decided upon a journal was because of the sensitivity of the matter I found myself in. It would have been unthinkable for me to not record my findings. neither would it have been appropriate of me to simply take a life and not at least journal the occasion. Though the souls of my victims may not be able to rest,

perhaps pen and paper could act as a makeshift too. The oddity of a diary was made even more apparent by the fact that I'd always been indifferent to my own feelings. So much so, this very issue used to be a point of contention in my relationship with Samantha. She'd always insist that I had trouble unburying my feelings. The irony in her words was both pain. painful and mournful. Everything I've done thus far was for you, my love. Though my sins may be grave and unforgivable, I hope my intentions are forgivable. Surprise me how little some of the deaths affected me.

A few managed to stir my humanity, as well as remind me how fickle and fragile life was. Speaking of fragility, I finally know why the deaths of the two maidens bothered me so. Yeah, they reminded me of my dear Samantha. The first I assumed the difficulty I'd had sleeping, after slaying the social media influencer, it was due to the taxing toll trial and error played upon the mind when it came to the nuisances of murder. Her death was wrought with needless hardship, brought upon by my amateurish hand. I slowly learned that my struggles were sentimental, seeing her like that scratching, clawing, fighting for her life with vigor,

it reminded me of my wife. My suspicions were confirmed when I murdered Mary. Even though her death was methodical, strangulation was still a rather cruel, prolonged method. Her lamentations and laborious grunts left me with a scarred temperament. This is why I subconsciously strayed away from killing women. The fear of awakening more latent memories of my wife's ordeal were too great to risk. With that being said, I'm hopeful of the future. Out of all this darkness may calm some light.

I know my declaration may seem a bit grotesque, especially considering the person I've become, Still, I was hopeful the process promised would work. I wish now more than ever for our love to flourish. I missed everything, the ups and downs, the triviality, frivolity, and the day-to-day monotony. All hallmarks of a lasting union. Was it selfish of me to desire such things after all I've done? Several lives traded in exchange for one. If I had to do it all over again, I would without hesitation.

I would sacrifice a hundred lives if needed. I can only imagine what any sane person would think if they were to stumble upon this journal. I'm sure they'd assure him I was mad. Ask yourself, would you do the same if in my precarious position? Would you let the opportunity of a lifetime slip through your fingers, or would you pursue it with resolve and abandon? I couldn't wait to be rid of this accursed locket. The faint screams of the souls trapped inside were beginning to drive me insane.

I couldn't say with certainty whether I touched on the particulars in earlier entries regarding its properties. Well, the locket seemed to have a mind of its own. I was warned to keep it close until my task was finished. When that first soul that I placed inside began to lament, I soon figured out why I was instructed to do so. For as long as the locket was on my person, the wretched imprisoned inside would not escape.

This was an opinion I formulated after much postulation and a few miserable attempts at experimentation. These half-hearted attempts at science were fueled by my initial misgiving. as any reasonable person might assume that all claims of two government agents were dubious. It was more likely a cruel joke, carried out in a grieving man than an inquiscious play to damn several unfortunate mortals. If I were a bedding man, I'd wager that this was not a perverse play on my emotions. No, my gut told me there were forces far more sinister at play.

It was a ploy all right, and I was a witless pawn in their diabolical machination. and besides the wretched cries and faint screams emanated from my wife's locket were more than enough evidence to the fact. I dare say their misery was unfortunate, near constant reminder that my grim work was of merit. I could not state enough how fascinating it was to watch my victim's bodies disappear without a trace. I must admit, seeing this sorcery at play for the first time

was an unnerving spectacle. When it's seeing the blood rise from the white bed sheets and the smell of blood no more was an unparalleled curiosity. When I became acquainted with quite well as time progressed, and my methods turned depraved. Oh, and, before I forget, there was a matter concerning my last victim, the preacher, that fueled me with regret.

The grip I made concerning his demise was inadequate. He lacked imagination, especially since he marked the final note to my macabre masterpiece. I will say this, for the preacher to be such a ceremonious, man, his death was very unceremonious in nature. The anticipation over tomorrow would surely be enough to elude sleep. Daylight was the only thing I desired as much as I desired to see her again.

She was a remarkable woman who could turn madness into happiness. The way she nobly comported herself was unique and queen. I never thought I would say this, but I missed the way she always asked if I was feeling okay whenever I seemed distant or distraught. It seemed strange looking back on it. now. Her innocent but incessant prodding into my temperament had always been a thing of annoyance. But now that she's gone, I've come to realize how much I relied on her love to cope with my own depression. The relief I felt, knowing there was a way to cheat death. Even if I only got to see

her for a moment more, it'd still be worth it. All I cared about was being able to embrace her and disclose my sorrows. Oh, Samantha, my dear, please, if this experiment fails, just not. I know that I love you. I hope you can fight it in your heart to forgive me. Now this should have come to pass. I hope to see you soon. Farewell, my darling. The wait.

I sat at my kitchen table with a bottle of whiskey and my revolver in reach. I'd been there pretty much all night worrying myself to death. The last daybreak was so close. I waited for what seemed like in eternity for those last few moments of darkness to fames. I sighed in relief when sunlight fell. when sunlight finally peaked through the shades. I grabbed my phone and dialed his number with an unsteady hand. After a couple of rings, he answered my call.

Hello, Mr. Hutchinson. This is Agent Adams. What can we do for you? He's done. We know. You know? Of course. Um, okay. Well, that's art. Our techs are finishing up the last of the lab work. They should be done soon. give me and my partner a couple of hours and we'll swing by and grab the locket.

Well, that work, I asked. It's nothing. Are you sure? Yep, he said. Okay. Great. Is that it? I asked.

Yep, that's it. Hmm. Hey, what's up? He asked. Why me? Ah, the why-mey question. The, what's that supposed to mean? Why do we choose you, right?

Well, yeah, why did you choose me? You're the government. Why don't you guys try whatever experiment this is on your own? I'm just one man. You guys have all the resources imaginable at your disposal. We, um, already tried, Mr. Hutchinson. You have? What was the outcome?

What do you think? I don't know, asshole. That's why I'm asking you, I said with a slight sneer. Ha, even if I wanted to share the details with you, and for the record I don't, the details are classified, Mr. Hutchinson. Well, man, you are a real piece of work. Anyway, he sighed begrudgingly, before continue to talk down to me like a child. Good job, Mr. Hutchinson.

We couldn't have done it without you. What did I do again? "'You saved your wife?' "'We'll see.' "'We will indeed, Mr. Hutchinson.' I ended the call somewhat aggravated with Agent Adams. "'What a smart ass,' I muttered to myself as I sat there nursing my whiskey bottle. "'I waited for quite a while.

"'To be honest, I don't know how much time had passed. "'It was one of those moments that was impossible to measure. "'I remember letting out a loud exhale when the two agents did finally arrive. I could hear them arguing the whole way from their vehicle to my door. Agent Adams was the reason they were late. Apparently he was hungry and getting lunch was more important than punctuality. He greeted me with a shifty smirk and an insincere handshake when I opened the door. His partner, Agent Harris, was a more pleasant sight.

She apologized for their tardiness and explained the whole Agent Adams having to stuff for lunch thing in as kind of way as possible. I thanked her before handing over the locket. I gave it to her with a bit of reluctance. I spent the last several months tolling away on what seemed like a fool's errand only to have to part ways with it so suddenly. She passed it to Agent Adams. He took it with one hand

and took a hit from his rape pen with the other. He hastily shoved the locket into the inner pocket of his suit coat. He then turned to his partner and said, Why, we should get going. They're waiting for us back at the lab. Agent Harris looked over at me and then back at her partner. I'm sure he has questions.

He groaned, checking his wristwatch before grumbling. Time is of the essence, Michelle. She frowned at him before taking off her shades. She took a step closer to me, so that her words would come off a bit more sincere and intimate. Robert, we have to go. It's imperative we return your wife's locket. You probably have some questions,

just know that you're in good hands. Give us 24 hours, and we'll bring her back to you, as new, I promise. I stood there speechless and breathless. Hearing those words, that my wife was coming home, there was no way to describe how grateful I was. We could start over.

I could show her how much I really cared. Goodbye, Mr. Hutchinson, Agent Harris said. She gave me one last look of pity before turning to leave with her partner. Hey, wait, I shouted. The two were about halfway to their vehicle, which was parted in my driving. "'Adams turned around and rolled his eyes.

"'What is it, Mr. Hutchinson?' "'Hey, where is she?' "'Where's who?' he asked. "'My wife.' "'What do you mean?' he asked, with a hint of annoyance and laughter. "'He looked over at his partner and gave her this look, "'like I'd asked a stupid question.' "'She's at the lab,' Agent Harris said.

"'This whole time?' "'Yes, Mr. Hutchinson,' she replied. "'You had her body this whole time.' "'Well, duh, we had to preserve her body,' "'Hent Adams mentioned, as if it was obvious. "'What my partner means to say is we have some of the best texts in the world "'working around the clock to make sure your wife is okay. "'That's the only reason—'

"'You dug her up!' I hollered. "'Agent Adams huffed. "'Rob, my man. "'My food is getting cold now. if you don't mind. Hey, don't call me a rob, USOB. With that, Agent Adams threw his hands up in defeat, as if he was the one who'd had enough.

God, the nerve of this guy turning his back to me and casually making his way to their vehicle as if I were a fool. Before getting all the way in the vehicle, he told his partner, I'll wait for you in the car. You're driving, by the way. I may not be able to eat in peace, but I want to at least be able to use it. used both hands.

Oh, damn grave robbers, I shouted at him. I swear I wanted to punch that pompous bastard so bad it wasn't even funny. He closed the door, which further infuriated me. That was it. I had a few choice words I needed to get off my chest. You could do this as a hard way or the easy way. It was up to him, I told myself, as I stormed off. His partner, Agent Harris, stepped in front of me as soon as she saw where I was going.

She put a hand up to my chest and said, "'Mr. Hutchinson, calm down. We had to preserve her body. It was the only way.' A few tears slipped from my eyes, then. I thought of them touching my wife's body killed, and God only knows what they were up to. Well, what did you do to her?

We're not grave robbers, and for the record we never dug her up. You never buried her. Wait, what? I asked. If we would have allowed your wife's body to be taken to a funeral home, they would have embalmed her. If this would have happened,

there had been no way to bring her back. God, there are a million other reasons why she couldn't be buried. Just know that what we did wasn't nefarious. We only did it to make sure the experiment... I mean, the process is successful. Experiment. What the hell? Robert, look, it...

It's better you... don't ask, it'll only make things worse. Just explain to me what happened. Who was it? I buried at the cemetery. God, this is madness. Samantha was never taken to the morgue. We took her body to our facility

for emergency preservation almost as soon as she die. The technology is classified, but it's basically temporary cryostasis. I shouldn't be telling you this, but... But what? I asked. He buried a double. Please don't ask how it's

possible, I've already revealed enough classified info as is. Just no, here I go again. I swear Adams is going to kill me. She shook her head, hesitant to continue. Then, after a lengthy pause, she told me. We cloned our body, okay? The tech's way more advanced than we let on. A lot of our tech is way more developed than we let on,

if I'm being perfectly honest. It's a whole other story. Well, thank you, I guess. even though I feel more confused now than I ever did before you answered my question. Agent Harris put her shades back on, and with a smirk, she said, try to have a good day, Mr. Hutchinson, and don't think too much into it. You love your wife back, and everything will be back to normal.

That's what really matters, right? That was the last thing Agent Harris said before leaving. I watched as she entered the vehicle and backed out of the driveway. I grabbed the mail from the mailbox and went back inside. I didn't know what else to do, I have poured myself a shot of whiskey. All my drinking had gotten worse since my wife's accident. I hated myself for it too.

I could hear her clear as day telling me I needed to stop. She'd always tell me how I was slowly killing myself. She was unfortunate considering what happened to her. I don't know. Maybe she was right. Maybe I was killing myself. One thing's for sure. It's killing me to know I'd let her down and there's no excuse for that.

and her funeral I vowed never to drink again and here I was waist deep in the muddy waters of addiction and with that miserable revelation in mind I gave a solemn toast to misfortune before downing my shot of whiskey Samantha my love I'll see you again one way or another whether it be in life or death although those last 24 hours of waiting for her to come home were a blur

I couldn't remember the last time I'd gotten a good night's sleep and tonight was no different. I stirred restlessly on the sofa, falling in and out of consciousness virtually the whole time. Reunited. I was shaken out of my stupor by a sudden knock at the front door. I jumped from the sofa, rubbed my eyes, and rushed to open it. Standing there, before my very eyes was my wife.

She was as beautiful and wonderful as ever. I closed my eyes for the briefest moment and thanked God. Nothing, and I mean nothing, could have prepared me for this moment. She looked into my eyes with those big blue eyes of hers. She was alive. My wife, who I long for, was standing right there. I wrapped my arms around her and embraced her without a word spoken. Tears slid from my weary eyes.

It had been a treacherous several months. My wife's resurrection was the culmination of all my hard work and steadfast belief that things would get better. I took a step back and took a deep breath. I glanced over and noticed that the two agents hadn't bothered to exit from their vehicle. I suppose they figured it was better to leave us undeterred at a time as sensitive and emotional as this. I wave goodbye as the two agents drove off. I was appreciative of their help, but eager to see them go.

I turned to my wife and gave her a long kiss. Oh, Sam, how are you? Are you feeling okay? look at you. You look amazing. Do you want something to eat? Oh, come in, sweetie. Let's just get you inside. We've got a lot of catching up to do. I paused after stepping through the door. Turning her way, I said with a slice mark. Look at me. I'm talking too much like I always do. I know, I know. It's something I promised to work on.

I'm sorry. I'm just excited to see you. I still can't believe it. You're alive, damn it. Sorry, I'm doing it again. Oh, it's okay. God, did I cherish hearing her voice again. There were so many things I wanted to tell her, but it would all have to wait. The last thing I wanted to do was come off as some overbearing or smothering or over-oh, look at me, I'm doing it again. At least time I managed to keep my ramblings inside my hair.

My inability to listen had caused quite a few quarrels in the past. Hell, I'd lost track of the number of times I promised to do better. If I truly desired to do right by her this time, I suppose I should start by not fiddling around with my own negativity and idle thoughts. My insecurities weren't important right now. Fuel for the stomach was more important than fuel for the soul. Eager to please, I said, Hey, Sam, I run out and grab some fruit and veggies for you.

I should have done it earlier. I wasn't thinking. You don't have to go with me or anything. You can just stay here and... It's okay. What's a boy? Okay. Don't leave. Are you sure? Yes. Why, you're hungry? I'll take whatever. Whatever. Yeah. Well, look, I don't have any... It's fine.

But Samantha, you're vegan. What, surprise me? Well, it doesn't matter even if it's an animal product. I asked with a raised brow. Well, that's the idea. she said before shaking her head and smirking as if I was dense. I couldn't believe my ears. Sam had been a staunch vegan since we'd met, so much so it was another one of our many disagreements. Very early into our relationship, I'd agreed to give the whole vegan thing a try.

It was a poor decision on my part that I probably should have given more thoughts. I found the vegan diet to be very difficult and draconian. My lack of conviction and motivation had disappointed my wife to no end. I browsed through the fridge. Not seeing anything she'd like, I told her. I don't know, Sam. I say you let me run to the supermarket. There's not much of anything in here.

You never listen, Sam said with a smile. Her beam was both disarming and alarming. Well, it disarmed my fear that she could be a clone because there was no way a clone could mimic her smile. Oh, I swear that smile was something I fell in love with the first time I saw it. It was alarming because there was a hint of darkness behind it She said it in a way that should have given me pause

I don't know I figured maybe she was still out of it I know if I died and came back to life It would have taken me some time to gather my barrens Rob You okay Oh yeah sorry Let's see why we have here

Eggs There's a couple of steaks Surprisingly still fresh or fresh enough I said after inspecting them. I tossed the pack back on the rack and chuckled to myself. Let's see what's in the freezer. Oh look, check it out. Frozen pizza.

This seems like the perfect time for frozen pizza. It's 8 a.m., she snickered. What's wrong with that? Breakfast would be nice. You know, you're right. Let's get old-fashioned in this kitchen. Steak and eggs, it is, I proclaimed. That's not old-fashioned.

fashion, she laughed. I could be. But that's what they ate back in the day, you know, found him fathers and stuff. What are you talking about? She smirmed. I'm just trying to give you a history lesson. Yeah, a very bad one, she giggled. I grabbed my favourite skillet and a pack of steaks.

Turning her way, still a bit skeptical, I asked. How long have you been vegan again? You don't remember, husband? Oh, damn, you're putting me on the hot seat. You'd put yourself on the heart seat, Mr. Noadol. Hey, I never claimed to know everything, I told her, while turning on the stove. Looking over at her, I tried my dandies to match her smile with a grin of my own. Felt great to see her laughing and joking again, just like we used to before she'd had her accidents.

While eyes were so bright and light, even in thought I found myself obsessing over her. I just kept thinking to myself how I didn't deserve this woman. A person as kind and gentle as Sam was more than I deserved, and that's for damn sure. Wait, what am I thinking? What was my fault? What happened that night was an accident? Hey, um, are you going to cook the steaks?

She asked, after noticing that I completely zoned out. Oh, yeah, yeah, sorry. Yeah, I was just... You just what? You know, um, how about some wine? Really? this early? Ah, screw it, let's go all in.

I'm down with that. Oh, snap, I almost forgot to ask. How do you want your steak? I inquired, while placing them on the skillet. I have no clue. That's a really good question. He probably can't even remember the last time he had steak, I told her. You're right.

I don't know. What do you think I should do? A medium is perfect. What about rare? Really? Rare? Yeah, extra rare if it's not too late. Oh, it's not too late, but... But what? It's nothing. Tell me. No, no, it's fine. Rob? It's no big deal. I'm just hoping that your request doesn't make you ill or anything. Yeah, I'm sure I'll survive. Yeah, you'll probably be all right. Hey? You only live twice, right?

I laughed and pointed the spatula in her direction while telling her, that was pretty clever. I have to give you major points for that one. Thank you for acknowledging me, she said sarcastically. I always acknowledge you. Rolling her eyes, she said. Sure you do. I cracked a few eggs over the skillet and says,

whatever you say, Sam, happy wife, happy life. Yeah, I heard that. I heard what? I heard what you said. Oh, I didn't say a thing. Well, since you're such a smart, Alec, you should have no problem answering my previous question. What was that, honey?

Oh, now you can't hear? Oh, no, seriously, it's hard to hear you with the egg sizzling. Hold on, I'm almost finished. I'll answer all of the questions you want in a sack. Oh, it's good to see you back to your old... Answer me! I was a bit shocked by her outburst. She glared into my eyes with a look of disgust and rage

before casting them down at the revolver I'd been stupid enough to leave on the table next to an empty whiskey bottle The two things she probably hated more than anything else in the world were practically on display for her I rushed over and grabbed the whiskey bottle And quickly tossed it into the trash She watched in grim silence as I ease my hand over the garden

I stood it off the table and placed it inside the drawer We used for storing miscellaneous items I didn't even bother with an excuse I already knew there was no way I could alleviate her disappointment in me. I simply headed back over to the stove and picked up where I'd left off. After a few minutes I came over and sat her meal down in front of her. She didn't say a word. She just sat there staring at her food.

That's when it came to me. As I stood there studying her, as she studied her meal. Seven years, I muttered. Huh? She asked, glancing up at me. That's how long you've done. been a vegan. I mentioned as I sat my plate down on the table and took a seat across from her. You've been a vegan ever since you saw that documentary. I forget the name, but I do remember

you're telling me your sister came by one day and showed it to you. You showed me that same documentary the first time you tried me to go vegan. I don't know, Sam. I tried. I really did. I'm not as strong as you will. Don't know if I'll ever... Hey, are you all right? I watched with a look of worry as my wife ravished her steak. She didn't even bother with utensils. She picked it up with both hands and tore into it. juices from the steak ran down the sides of her mouth. She grunted and snarled with every bite. The only thing that kept me silent was the hope that perhaps her ob behavior was a temporary side effect brought on by her recent reanimation. Hey, can I have yours? She asked. Huh? Your steak, you want it?

"'Oh, no, have it.' She didn't even bother with pleasantries or table etiquette. Her hip bumped up against the table when she reached over and snatched the hunker of meat off my plate. I wet my lips but decided against being crude as I told her, "'Oh, I suppose you would be famished after your ordeal.' She ignored me, instead focusing all of her attention into greedily chomping down on the prize she had seized off my plate. She ate with a veracity that was difficult to digest. This time I decided to try a different approach.

With a false smile, I told her. Wow, Sam, you ate that like it was your last meal. What are you talking about? She grunted while sucking on the steakbone. She was a mess. Dried sauce stained her mouth and chin. I couldn't do it. It was too painful.

Couldn't sit there any longer and bear witness to her barbarism. So I stood from the table and bumbled around as I mumbled some excuse for my suddenness. I rushed over to the sink and grabbed some paper towels. After dabbing the sheets in water, I went over to my wife and wiped her mouth. She stared blankly at the wall the whole time. Honey, are you all right? Oh, God.

What's wrong? That steak was so delicious. I grabbed a bottle of cheap wine from the cabinet and told her, Let's watch some movies. We can make it just like old times, remember? Every blue moon we turn off our phones and just spend the day together, binge watching Netflix and eat vegan snacks. Vegan snacks, she chuckled.

Hey, some of those vegan snacks were really good. Like those sharp red cookies. Damn it, what's the name of those cookies? You know, the ones that came in the red packaging. Damn it, I can't remember the name of those cookies to save my life. Remember? He used to always bring a bunch home whenever we went shopping over at the Eastern Market. You know what I remember? She asked.

What's that? I remember eating microwave popcorn and drinking cheap wine, she said. That sounds pretty bad. No, I doesn't. I'd love to cuddle with you and watch movies. And she smiled. Her grin was a tad awkward. Her words were familiar and encouraging.

She stood and made her way towards me. I couldn't help but notice how beautiful she was. So, um, started getting used to the whole living thing again, I asked. Very funny. Where are you going? I have to use the potty. The potty, I repeated. How will you stop?

She simpered. What did I do? And I laughed. You're black in the way, silly. Sorry, babe, I didn't even notice. You look like you've seen a ghost. What are you talking about? Well, since you're staring, what do you think?

Do I look any different now that I've returned? Yeah. Yeah? Yeah, you look amazing. Her pale cheeks turned rosy. Right when I leaned in for a kiss, she slipped past me without a word spoken. She looked back at me with a smile before travelling upstairs towards the master bedroom. I waited on the couch.

The whole time I couldn't keep my mind off her. This was almost too good to be true. Took a deep breath and steady myself. I hadn't felt this antsy since our first date. Boy, with those some crazy and rocky times, I was such a better man back then. The thought of that more patient and understanding person that I used to be caused me a considerable amount of grief.

God, I've become a master. A shadow in the light. What I did to her is unforgivable. Well, I have a chance now to make things right. I'll never let that person out again. Hey, you forgot the popcorn. Huh? I asked with a startled tone.

Did I scare you? She asked with a slice mask. Oh, yes and no. Yes and no, or no and yes? Isn't that the same thing? Yes and no, she said, while trying her best to hide. her amusement. Well, your silliness is starting to rub off on me, I see. Whatever, I chuckled. I'll make the popcorn. Just give me a...

No, no, I got it. You sure? Yes, I'm sure, she snickered. Before turning away, she told me with a raised eyebrow. It looked like you could use the rest. Oh, such a sweetheart. Shut up, she giggled. Oh, Sam was back to her old self. I could hear a singer as she microwave a bag of popcorn. To be honest, she couldn't really sing all too well. Her awkward talent was something I often teased her about, how she sounded like a pixie whenever she sang or hummed. Do we have any butter spray? She asked while rummaging through the kitchen cupboard. I have no clue. Have you made popcorn since I died? No. Then we should have some. Wow. What? Well, um, that was pretty stark and dark.

Found it. Awesome. She returned to the living room, having dumped the bag of popcorn into a plastic salad bowl. After sitting it down on the coffee table, she plopped down on the couch right next to me. She gazed into my eyes rather lovingly, before resting her head on my shoulder. I flipped through shows and movies on Netflix. It took longer than it should have to find something to watch. We had one of those silly exchanges every couple has, where the other person,

replied with, I don't mind, it's what you want to watch, to whatever their significant others suggested they pursued. Before it would have driven me up the wall, but now with her alive again, even the insignificant moments at a certain weight to them. Hearing her say, I'm okay with it, if you're okay with it, it was bitter, sweet. Well, the first movie was gripping, so much so she cried as I held her in my arms when it was over. I picked the next movie. It was a comedy. I chose it in hopes of lighting up the mood with a bit of levity. Well, this time we laughed and I cried some. It seemed a comedy of all forsaken things was the emotional straw that broke the camel's back. I swiped away the remaining tears and chuckled at the irony. The last movie

of the night turned out to be some cheesy romance. God how much the co-stars reminded me of us. The ups and downs work well when combined with the chemistry and love on display. It was late into the night now and I was beat. I knew Sam had to be tired from her first day back, but to my surprise, she claimed the contrary. She was known for not knowing when to call it quits, but she professed that she wanted to stay up, and I reluctantly agreed. We tried in vain to watch some stuff on YouTube, but that little experiment didn't last long. When I called her dozing off and suggested that we retire, she begged me off. A few minutes later I caught her knocked out cold, to the point of snoring. well that was the last straw

I put my phone away and told her we should get ready for bed yeah you're right was written all over her face she relented without protest allowing us to begin what used to be our nightly routine before bed even the boring minutiae

of brushing our teeth gathering our things and heading upstairs to bed felt new and exciting now she asked and I promised to hold her in my arms the whole night I told her I would never again let go I told her how much I loved her

and how happy I was to be with her once more She smiled and drifted off to sleep I kissed her and told her Good night my love I was disturbed from my sleep Sometime into the night by a sudden jolt The mattress shook and rocked As my wife broke free from my arms

I opened my eyes And saw Sam sitting upright With her back against the headboard She placed a hand on her chest and panted Sweat, peppered her face And the look in her eyes was foreboding. What's wrong?

I asked. Don't ask me that. What? You heard me. Sam, wait, where are you going? Downstairs, she said, before scampering off. I laid there and thought about what to do. I didn't want to chase after her

and fear that I might make things worse. I figured the best thing to do was give her some time. I'd been in her face ever since she'd walked through the door. I wasn't going to mess this up. I refused to let what happened happen again. Watching my wife's mental health deteriorate was the worst thing I'd ever dealt with. I should have stopped it. I saw the science but avoided doing the simple things that would have made all the difference.

If I would have acted then, perhaps, perhaps what happened to her would never have happened. God, it pains me so much. Why would a woman so beautiful and full of life give up on it? I don't know. I guess it was just one of those. things you don't think's a problem until it's a problem, usually by then it's too late. I left the bedroom and tiptoed down the hall. My heart was beating out of my chest.

I crept downstairs and each step drew me closer to the living room. I had this feeling. Something told me to turn back. I didn't know what to expect and brace myself before turning the corner. There she was, my Samantha, sitting on the floor next to the window. The skin was bathed in the light and darkness of the blue hour. She was rocking back and forth, humming to herself, cradling something in her arms as if it were a small child. I took a step closer, wanting to see what it was she was holding. Don't come any closer.

Sam. I said, stop, she snarled. Okay, I'm sorry. Mm, yeah, everything okay. speak child heel child is that a breath child its faint glimmer was unmistakable it took me a few more carefully placed steps to confirm that she was indeed holding a knife in her arms she was rocking back and forth singing to it soothing it to it she whispered sam no i cried out when she put the blade to her neck I rushed over and put my hand on her wrist.

Her eyes were closed. She looked up at me with this sinister smile and began swaying her head in dance and in trance. The moment itself was uncanny, but what truly caught my eye was her ghastly appearance. The skin was a deathly, ghostly white. Black varicrous veins tainted her extremities. Some were as deep and pronounced as wires.

Others, like the ones that pulsated up and down her neck, were thin and nebulous like spider webs. She was frail and gaunt. The life in her eyes was all but gone. I had go of her wrist and took a step back. Sam, what's wrong? I mean, you look. A wild cackle startled me.

My dear sweet husband, she said with a wicked grin, stretching her arms out towards me. She added, Come now, join me. Sam. please you don't look well just let me he did this he harmed you what are you talking about you killed her you kill her she rose from the door slowly and unnaturally the bones in her neck twisted and crackled her head bubbled and drooped her body was stiff and limp the long brown hair shrouded her face like a funeral veil

She pointed the blade at me and sneered. She knows. Put the knife down, sweetie, I demanded while backing away. You damned her, she screamed. Who are you? What are you? She knows what she did. I didn't do anything. Lies, Phil.

Okay, wait, I exclaimed when she raised the... knives. Continue to back away, making sure to keep my eyes on her the whole time. My leg bumped against the side of the couch, which caught me by surprise. I quickly raised my guard and said, Sam, we need to get you some help. Something's happened to you. You're not silence. Shut your lying mouth, she shrieked before gripping her stomach and bending over. She looked up at me with this look of anguish and disgust. Her sickness and mascara died her tears black. She reched out the vile, sickening words.

It's not wrong to taste his flesh. No, no, no, he's a sinner. He's a killer. I didn't kill anyone. I then dashed around the couch and used it as a barrier, placing a degree of space between us. I begged her off as we circled around several times. She screamed in madness and frustration

while stumbling and hobbling towards me. There was a deranged, almost feral looking her eyes. She sneered, snapped and swiped wildly at me with the knife. Sadly, the more I tried to reason with her, the more possessed she was by anger and anguish. She drove the blade downward and stabbed into the arm of the couch, just missing my hand by an inch. I was in shock. I stood there watching as she glowed and growled while trying to pry the blade from it. Sam, why are you doing this?

I hate you. "'Sam, I hate you!' "'Sam, please, come on, baby. "'Stop this before it's too late and there's no way to fix it.' "'I said in desperation. "'She was destroying our life together. "'She was destroying the life I had worked so hard to rescue. "'She was finally able to dislodge the blade.

"'Her eyes held an untamed hatred. "'She found it the mouth like a rabid beast. "'Her cackle and grin were unbecoming. "'This thing, this... This thing standing before me, menacing me with a knife, was no longer the woman I had adored for years. I know what you did, she hissed. I had to.

It was the only way to bring you back. Not that. Then what? You did this to me. Sam, I'm sorry. Do you know what it's like? No, I can, well, I can only imagine. Get back there, you coward.

I dashed into the kitchen and made my way towards the drawer, where I'd stash my revolver. I rummaged through in a panic, turning a simple task in the dark into an impossible one. And that's when it happened. The woman I loved more than life itself, the person I've done everything humanly possible for, that's when she jammed the blade into my ribcage. I turned towards her and gazed into her eyes with a look that said everything, and she returned my gaze with a look that said nothing. Pain quickly found me.

The hand still sifting through the door, shook violently. The satisfaction this creature gained in my suffering hastened my grief. I pushed her head back. Adrenaline surged through me as I fought desperately to keep her at bay. My wife, not this thing, gnashed its teeth at me as if the blood rushing from my wound had heightened something primal within. She bit down to my ring finger and ripped it off just above the knuckle. I screamed bloody murder And watched in horror

As she gnawed on it The sound of her Snapping my finger off sounded like a branch Being snapped in two The putrid sound of her chewing on bone Was similar to the soundmaid When munching down on a carrot

Blood and bits of flesh Slipped from her mouth I turned away Would have gagged if not for the pain and harm I found myself in Faced with life and death I reached back into the drawer Fumbled around until my hand

Found the handle of my river I screamed and howled when she drew the knife from my mangled ribcage. The indecent act caused blood to spurt from the wound. I covered the hole as best I could with my hand. The sight of fresh blood gushing from the knife wound put her into a state of frenzy. We tussled and struggled as I tried to afford myself the space needed to aim my weapon at her in self-defense. My hip slammed up against the table. I slipped on the blood-stained floor, causing me to stand.

to the ground. I crawled back as fast as I could, slipping and kicking the whole way. I tried my best to reach the living room, but panicked when my back hit the wall. I raised the gun and aim for her head. My hand shook uncontrollably. I didn't want to do it, even now with this creature, who was once my wife, trying its damnedest to sink its teeth into my maimed side. I tried to shove its head back, but my hand kept slipping. Blood was everywhere. The gun almost slipped from my grass. I had to act. I had to do something before it was too late.

Sam, please, I cried. Can't do it, I cried out. My hand, holding her head, slipped again. I blocked her path towards my face with my arm, only to have her sink her teeth into it instead. I begged her to stop. She only ceased to feast on the chunk of flesh that she'd ripped from my forearm.

Her eyes widened. I could see the vivid hue returned to them for a moment. It was as if the cure to whatever afflicted her was the consumption of flesh. She arched the knife above her hand with both hands. She ignored my plea and plunged the blade deep into my chest. I tried to fend her off. She threw herself at the wound on my side and indulged with reckless abandon. She snarled and hissed while doing the unthinkable.

I could feel every bite, I could hear every gnarle and nash. The smell of blood twisted my olfactory senses. Brought the barrel of my revolver to the side of her head. The task of steadying it was made infinitely more difficult with a missing finger. The gun swayed. My trigger finger quivered. Tears fell from my eyes as I told her. Sam, I just want you to know.

I never wanted this. forgive me. I thought I could bring you back. I thought I could make things right. There's no shortcut for saving time, but saving money is simple. Just combine your car and home insurance with Bel Air Direct and save. Get a quote at bellairdirect.com. After mile. Beginning my report on dossier 0196, HC11, this is Officer Michelle Harris, and I am here with my partner, Gary Adams. The date, September 4th, 2021. The time is 0,900 hours. My partner and I arrived on the scene at exactly 0,800 hours.

He showed up unannounced and disbanded Experiment 8557. We got the OK from H.Q to enter the house without a warrant at approximately 0.835 hours. Agent Adams spotted two victims inside the kitchen area, along the wall and doorway that leads to the living room. The mail has been positively identified as Robert. Hutchinson and the female Samantha Hutchinson. Note 01. From now on in my report, Mr. Hutchinson may be referred to as the subject, and Mrs. Hutchinson, the patient. We found the subject dead from what appears to be multiple stab wounds. We found the patient deceased. She was slumped over on the subject's left side

from an apparent gunshot wound to the head. Now the gunshot wound appears to have been inflicted by the subject. There are no other factors to report except, Well, based on my own determination, somehow I missed a key factor that would have disqualified Experiment 8557 from participation in Project 09. Before Experiment 8557 began, the subject, Mr. Hutchinson, staged his wife's initial death. Because of this, her cause of death was incorrectly ruled as a suicide by the local medical examiner. This factor will remain redacted from all external reports, due to Project O'9 being classified.

as a world order operation, or woo for short. Note O2. Our forensic texts were able to piece together that Mr. Hutchinson drowned his wife in the bathtub. A bottle of sleeping pills and antidepressants were found on the bathroom floor. This should have been our first indicator of foul play because the lab work on Mrs. Hutchinson came back with only trace amounts of both medications. The motive is still unproven, but I believe that he killed his wife and made it look like a suicide to collect on her insurance policy.

Contrary to popular belief, you're allowed to collect on a policy when someone commits suicide. You just have to own it for a reasonable length of time. The patient was scammed by an MLL scheme and had incurred a massive amount of debt as an end result.

Due to these oversights in my initial investigation, both the subject and patient were given the go. Even though Experiment 8557 ended in two fatalities, I'm confident that HQ will process the information accordingly and continue Project 09.

End of notes. Ending my report on dossier 0196HC11. Agent Harris placed a recorder back into the inner pocket of her suit coat. She looked over and saw her partner standing over the deceased couple. He took a hit from his vape pen or studying them. That was my report. Did I miss anything? Ah, you did a good job. What's wrong?

Nothing. Agent Adams said while shaking his head in displeasure. He took another hit from his vape pen. After a brief coughing fit, he told the dead man, Mr. Hutchinson, you bargain with the devil and lost. You really think it was over money? Everyone has a price. You really think so?

Come on, let's get out of here. It stinks. I'm sure the techs will have fun with this mess. Yeah, they always find something. "'Oh, who cares? I'm starving. I'm in the mood for corned beef. What about you, rookie? You hungry?' "'Well, that's funny and sick. What's funny and sick? His wife turned into a zombie, and you're in the mood for corned beef sandwich?' "'Speaking at the undead, I should probably give Lord Haven a call. I'm sure he'll get a kick out of this one. All we did to move that little pet project forward was prove that you can turn a harrow into a wretched.'

Still as close as we've ever come to bring in a soul back that didn't look like Frankenstein. Frankenstein, Agent Adams chuckled. He pulled out his phone as the two exited from the house. I'm in a good mood. I'll put in a good word for you. Thanks, Agent Harris grumbled, not sure if being on someone like Lord Haven's good side was a good thing. Why does he like you so much anyway?

You must have done quite a bit of bootlicking to get his private number. Agent Adam shrugged. I don't know. I guess I have a pleasant personality. And so once again, we reach the end of tonight's podcast. My thanks as always to the authors of those wonderful stories and to you for taking the time to listen. Now, I'd ask one small favor of you.

Wherever you get your podcast wrong, please write a few nice words and leave a five-star review as it really helps the podcast. That's it for this week, but I'll be back again, the same time, same place, and I do so hope you'll join me once more. Until next time, sweet dreams and bye-bye.