Dr. Creepen's Dungeon - S6 Ep357: Episode 357: Extremely Weird Horror

Episode Date: July 28, 2026

Tonight’s fabulous opening story is 'Spaceship Earth: The Lost Episode' by the wonderfully talented Tyler, kindly shared with me via the Creepypasta Wiki and read to you here under the conditions of the CC-BY-SA license:http://relics.valice.net/about-stories/https://creepypasta.fandom.com/wiki/User:DigigekkoTonight’s incredible closing story is ‘Friends with Scissors’ by the wonderfully talented Lucretia Vastea, kindly shared with me for the express purpose of having me narrate it here for you all:https://twitter.com/cvasiacru

Welcome to Dr. Creepin's dungeon. Weirdness frightens us because it disrupts our expectations of how the world is supposed to work. Our brains are wired to recognise familiar patterns. So when something appears just slightly wrong, a face that almost looks human, a place that feels subtly out of place or behaviour that defies logic, well, it creates an unsettling sense that reality itself cannot be trusted. Unlike obvious dangers, weirdness leaves. are searching for answers that never quite come, allowing our imagination to fill the gaps with

possibilities far more frightening than certainty. It's this uncertainty where the ordinary and the impossible collide that makes the strange linger in our minds long after the moment has passed. As we shall see in tonight's two feature-length stories, now as ever before we begin a word of caution, tonight's tales may contain strong language as one of those descriptions of violence and horrific imagery. That sounds like your kind of thing. thing. Let's begin. Spaceship Earth,

Lost episode. By Tyler. Lost Media is a popular topic of interest, with often the most mundane of shows or commercials, targeting any age group suddenly taking on an aura of mystery, or sometimes even the spectra of a curse. Online sleuths seek the reason an episode went missing as much as they try and find the absent media itself.

Taboo content. film vault fires, on set accidents, the death of a cast member, copyrights and licensing issues, or a bad reception can all result in the disappearance of artistic content. Other times it's all from a simple mistake, such as a misplaced master file or an unplanned deletion of backups. Media hunters have poured off some miracles over the years, managing to dig up digital copies of things long thought lost in the deepest recesses of the internet, or someone's personal collection of old VHS tapes. There are cases where an anonymous uploader supplies

a highly sought out a video file that only they had access to because they worked in or with the studio that produced the web's latest hot disappeared item regardless of how old the media is. It's kind of amazing to me how people managed to discover just what is missing in the first place. There are so many obscure shows adrift in the world,

just as there are obscure episodes of popular shows. Kids' titles fill up a bulk of lost media, partly since they get coupled with those fuzzy childhood memories that make some of us confuse a late-night TV oddity with an adolescent fever dream. I'm aware of an episode of a show that I don't think will ever be found and hasn't been talked about anywhere in all of my online searches. I didn't want to be they one to call attention to it,

but this doesn't deserve to be forgotten, and at this point I believe it's up to me to call attention to it. In 2006, I'd just gotten my degree in telecommunications, and I was looking to get my start locally, right where I grew up in the Quad Cities area of the States. An old family friend got me a post-grad summer job while I began to search for a career, on temporary stuff, but paying. In a region with multiple cities close to each other, we had a number of public access TV channels to check out when the rest of the cable offerings failed our entertainment needs. I never took community television seriously, usually spending no more than a few seconds on them while channel surfing, and then moving on to the mainstream networks

that used cameras that are actually made in this century. At most, they were good for a few minutes of riffing at drunken parties back at college. So it wasn't an exciting prospect that I'd be working for a couple of months at a small, a rundown studio that was shooting one of these public access shows. Well, it was readily available, I'd make a few hundred bucks from it, getting some experience right after school. But on the other hand, it wouldn't even really take advantage of my degree. I wasn't working on the actual show in any way,

but rather I'd just be taking photographs for posterity and publicity. Photography had always been a side hobby of mine, not a main pursuit. Regardless, this family friend told me that the show creator was looking for someone who still shot in black and white, on film, which was what I was all about. They wanted something classic and timeless that was printed professionally and would hopefully translate to investors or executives taking the show seriously.

Digital cameras were still fairly new and low resolution back then anyway. It wasn't as if photographers like me were hard to find. On my first day at work, I was actually almost impressed. I sure the studio itself was in a poor part of town and was within an old renovated warehouse that had a weird lingering smell. But the set was surprisingly not bad.

It was elaborate and had plenty of props. Nothing spectacular. We're not talking network television quality, but, well, it definitely had the appearance of a bootstrap production with some funding behind it. Me being basically a contract worker with only a secondary connection to the show, I was always on the outside of things and lacked first-hand accounts of how it got started

and the progression of it. I was only ever brought in on the first day that each episode was taping, so I was limited to seeing just about the end of every work cycle. Any editing was done quickly, as I remember seeing the premiere, only a couple of months after coming in to shoot the sets, cast members, and then sticking around for the rest of the day

and getting to see what scenes were getting shot. I didn't come back to see an episode's filming wrap, but since it was a speedy process, I'd see about a third or so of an entire episode filmed on each of my three visits. My brief time there gave me a good idea of the script, script, the plot, and the general vibe of the production. The set design was centred around an underground bunker of some kind. Clean, post-apocalypse chic, I'd call it.

Think concrete nuclear survival bunker, but with a lot of fun, colorful, nonsensical props and tools for the characters to interact with, or eye-candy for the viewer. First thing I thought when I saw it was if Peewee's Playhouse had taken place underground. The five cast members were all on. on set when I arrived, and started taking snapshots of them going through the latest script revisions. They consisted of two women and three men,

with one of the guys on puppeteer duty inside an intricate robot costume. The tin man looked like a friendlier Terminator cyborg. He also wore a black robe with colorful frills on his metal exterior, suggesting you as a professor of some kind. A robot would make a good educator in a fallen world, I suppose, being able to retain all that knowledge and teach tirelessly. While my knowledge of the show was limited while I was taking production stills, it was easy enough to gleam from what I did see to figure out the rest of the characters.

The youngest man, who looked fresh out of college like myself, played the young hero of the show, a boy named Paulie, wanted to go on adventures and, of course, often got in trouble. But he's always pulled through at the end with his boundless enthusiasm amid a broken world. His little sister Eunice was played by one of the smaller girls who can get away with portraying a child up into her late twenties. She was cheerful and bright, but scared easily from the monsters in rubber suits

that patrolled the cavernous underground of the show's world. At least that was her character. The actress, who was older than the guy playing her big brother by a few years, actually swore like a sailor, complained about everything, and always took a smoke break out back during downtime, no matter how hot it was out there. A good actor, though.

She could turn back into her bubbly character with the smack of the clapboard. The adult characters, who had no relation to each other or the kids, acted like their guardians. Walton was the grumpy utility worker who always showed up to fix things, including problems,

and spent most of his off-screen time down in the bunker's power plant, helping to keep the power on. He had a graphic steer, what was reliable and played the part of the old dude there to dispense wisdom and lessons. His character also spouted off old-timey catchphrases you've heard a hundred times. Well, a bit two-dimensional, but the actor played the part well, and much attention was paid to his dirty overalls costume.

Each time he'd show up, he'd have a new stain on his clothes from who knows what. Judy was the engineering nerd and scientist, and the cause of each episodic adventure. Of the three stories that made it to air, the stories always began with some discovery she'd made about the Great Underground, which was followed by a misunderstanding by the kids who would then go off to try and prove that they were grown up. At the end of each story, they'd learn a lesson given out by the patient and understanding of Judy, who had also managed to mix in a message about both responsibility and the scientific process. Roll credits. And in the next episode, it's as if the kids. have learned nothing and made the same mistakes all over again by trying to do things without asking an

adult for help. The lessons and messages were all over the place, but I'm sure they would have tightened up by a theoretical second season. Minor and background characters were played by members of the crew put into an assortment of extra outfits that looked like they were stolen from one of the local community theatres. Given that only six people work behind the camera, at least that I saw while I was there. I think the director and creator would have had to start inviting people off the street to expand the cast variety after a few episodes, or even hire more actors, because based off of the few interactions I had with him, the guy seemed pretty loaded. Yeah, Bernard Schmidt enjoyed fancy suits, nice shoes, cigars, and keeping his thinning gray hair

styled. I'll be using his real name here because I'll screw him. I still have no idea where he came from, or how he'd gotten his cash. It didn't strike me as old money, more like a poser, trying hard to fit in by throwing his newfound cash at everything. He struck me as constantly nervous, like someone who'd be looking over his shoulder all the time if it weren't for the fact that he was working so closely with about a dozen people. A director is supposed to exude confidence over his project. If he looks worried, you're going to get bad results from everyone else. As the mostly ignored set photographer, I probably got a more candid look at Schmidt than anyone else. I couldn't be sure, and he did a good job at hiding the accent, but I came to believe while

working under him that he was from somewhere in Eastern Europe. Not that I had a problem with him coming here to try and live out the American dream in fast-forward, but it might have explained some of his eccentricities. He was a perfectionist on set, though always anxious. Yet I didn't see him get hostile or rude with his crew and cast. He lacked some common manners and courtesy, but didn't get angry with mistakes, and let the actors try all the takes they needed. Still, by the end of this story, you'll hate him as much as I do. All right, young lady, I remember him saying when we first met in person

shortly before the first scenes were shot. I want you to get some really professional-looking photos today. when we have a hundred episodes and get syndicated and there's a movie deal in the works I want to show all of our fans how we started we're selling a success story here understand Bernard was tenacious trying to brute force his way into stardom even while clearly not being very good with his money his need to become famous with a beloved show reeked of desperation

in the end he was either scared of the people out to get him or had thrown away his morality and was ready to do anything to succeed. Sad thing is, he would have been laughed out of Hollywood as soon as he stepped foot there, if ever actually given the chance. My time at the studio was both brief and strange, giving me memories of unexplainable behaviour from the creator and ominous vibes from the entire production, but also a few good moments with the colourful cast.

I'm glad I got to meet them, and learn about how they'd arrived at this show, and where they plan to go next. All of them honestly had some talent, and a shot at bigger projects. Trying to build up my connections to people that might be in the biz for a few years to come, I got all of their contact information.

Doing so made right in this story and my own investigation possible much later on. Spaceship Earth debuted in October 2006, right as the mainstream shows were getting into their fall seasons, since it was on public access, it was barely advertised, and it was hard just to get a solid answer on the schedule, with it being bumped around before airing for the first time. Then again, having no idea when to air a show may be powerful a course with community-driven TV.

I resorted to watching the right channel for hours after dinner, just to make sure I wouldn't miss the airing. And I set my VCR to record it in case reruns never happened. I was really only curious to find out what the show was actually about. The scenes I saw being shot weren't heavy on exposition, and I hadn't gotten the chance to see the title screen when I did my small part for the production. If the first episode sucked, I didn't plan on watching the rest.

The premise of Spaceship Earth tracks pretty close to its fairly unoriginal title, though it is oddly somewhat dark for the age group I assume it was targeting. Something happens to the sun's gravity, and the Earth is ejected from orbit. Fortunately for humanity, the change took time, and scientists realized what was happening early on, so preparations could be made. The 30-second-long opening titles, a fully hand-drawn flash animation that looked like it was made over the course of a weekend by college students, summed up the backstory pretty well. Earth was leaving the solar system and headed out into space.

so people built a massive network of underground cities connected by train. Earth would eventually be captured by another star in a few thousand years, but until then, everyone would have to stay warm down below, where ancient monsters lurk. Well, the characters come around a hundred years later, and now the surface was a dark wasteland with cities frozen in time. The sun was only a dim dot in a twilight sky, but still the brightest star.

I got a feeling for what the show was going for while working there, but seeing the first episode in full confirmed it for me. It was one of those rare shows that was for tweens and young teens that had a dark edge to it, while being semi-educational along the way. A method of reaching an audience going through the pains of adolescence who might have been too antsy for taking lessons or advice from cute-talking cartoon animals anymore,

but could maybe still accept watching a fun cast trying to make the best of a cold and, utilitarian world. Well, I think I would have enjoyed it in my own early high school years. The characters were a call back to the bygone days of Saturday morning cartoons Chipper Heroes, only they've been dropped into a gloomy world where survival had become a struggle, and luxuries were a thing of the past. In the second episode, they even ventured up to the cold surface to find an old earth tool

that their city's ancestors have forgotten to bring down, just so a washing machine can be fixed. and those scenes were filmed in a completely different location that I hadn't gotten the chance to see. The actor's breath was visible and their shivers seemed genuine, but it wasn't as if they could have filmed outside in the summer to get the authenticity. Either the warehouse's AC could be turned down really low, or Bernard had found an industrial freezer for those scenes. In the third episode, the wastes are visited again after Eunice is a lousy birthday party

and runs off to the surface, leaving Paulie to find her, which ends the episode with a tearful reunion and a lesson about temperament. Long after I saw all three episodes, I started searching on the internet for information about it every now and then. As far as I know, reruns did air for a year or so, but it never got picked up by any of the networks or cable channels, which I thought was a shame, because regardless of how Mr. Schmidt had got his money,

he was clearly passionate about the project, and the cast seemed to enjoy themselves, from what I saw. It really could have gone somewhere. Other than an occasional thought around whether or not there was another badge of episodes that got made but it was never aired, well, I stopped thinking about the show when time moved on. Its appearances on TV ended, and while there was a small fan base around Spaceship Earth for a while,

none of the websites about it seemed to be around anymore. Like most every other public access show, it faded into obscurity, even despite its bigger than usual budget. And then something happened in 2020. I'd moved to California, gotten myself a career as a producer of independent films you've likely never heard of, found a loving boyfriend, and have a kid on the way. My first real job was in the distant past, and details were being lost in the fog of time. While I was cleaning out some boxes in our small apartment, my old book of contacts dropped onto the floor. My first thought was, how quaint, scribbles for the few dozen people I knew way back,

my modern smartphone having about a hundred contacts. But on the very first page of the book was the list of cast members from the first show I'd worked on, and it all came flooding back. And I had the sudden urge to finally try and find out what had happened to all of them. and see whether or not any of them had made it big. Just for the hell of it,

before the idea no longer interested me and I forgot about it all again. What followed were several months of intense conversations over email and messaging services and some disturbing research on my part. I was sucked down a nightmarish rabbit hole where things only ever got worse. Part two.

I tried all of the phone numbers and email addresses I'd written down for the cast, each of them 14 years old at least. Only one went through and got me a response. Paulie's old hotmail account. However, by convincing him to help me learn what had happened, he reluctantly shared the current contact information for the others. And yes, I'll call him Paulie. Now, since I'm going to conceal their real names anyway here,

though they're all listed in the credits. I figured I'd keep things simple and just use everyone's character names. Well, I'm editing all of the written responses I've had with the cast, so that only the important details are in this story. The following is taken from many conversations, often spaced apart by weeks. I'm leaving out my replies, as they aren't interesting. I mostly just asked the obvious questions, mixed in with a few holy shits, when reacting to the more insane parts of this demented incident.

Right. In the order I taught with each of the cast, here we go. Paulie. Yes, I remember you. The photographer. You were young and still had stars in your eyes back then. If I'm recalling this right, I don't think you ever stuck around to see the latter half of each episode being filmed. Well, I'm glad you're doing okay. Sounds like you're finding some success out there in Hollywood. But to be honest, I wouldn't pursue this. please don't worry about what happened on spaceship earth I know that any normal person is only going to get more curious when someone tells them this stuff yeah I get that but I really

recommend not looking into anything just moving on with your life and then after several emails pestering him for more details I figured you wouldn't let this go alright fine I'll tell you what I know

but it isn't much I was kind of isolated more than the others about the whole thing. I didn't see everything they did, thank God. But they've told me, and we keep in touch. Kind of as a very exclusive online support group. I was spared the worst of it, but just being aware of what happened to the others makes it hard to sleep at night, even after all these years. Well, you didn't see it, but Schmidt was a sick bastard.

I don't know if he was always that way. or carried the potential to become one all his life. That show was supposed to be a launching pad for my career, but I gave it all up after that and changed my pursuits entirely. I play black metal now with an indie band up here in Seattle. Who'd have guessed it, right? Little Polly, the great explorer of the icy world. Always a smile on his rosy face, even if he's freezing to death.

He grew up to shred a guitar and slice open his fingers on steel strings. Well, it'd make sense if you knew what I went through, even if it wasn't the worst of it. To be fair, the first episode was pretty fun to make. I had my first post-high school crush on Eunice, and Warden was like the grandfather I never got to know. Guy was patient and friendly, full of life wisdom. He shouldn't have been forced to see what he did. Well, the set was great, partly because we worked together to make it.

Schmid had a carpenter for the sets and a painter for the scenery backdrops, but no one in charge of props, so we made a lot of that bunker ourselves, fed with old toys, spray-painted, broken appliances to give them that post-apocalyptic grunge and rust. But whenever you, an outsider and the closest we had to a PR rep, left after that first day, Schmidt changed. He was quick to anger and started rushing us along

He suddenly wanted shots done in one take And he didn't like any improvisation But not because he was addicted to his script He just hated to waste time on it It was a big change in attitude It didn't get too bad Until we started shooting the second episode By the third

He was a tyrant We have no idea where he got his money But we're certain he was a second episode, But we're certain he was beholden to some third party because of it. He brought dangerous debts onto the production, all because of his vendetta against other production companies that had wronged or belittled him, laughed off his ideas because he was a nobody with a funny accent and no experience.

I'll think of a slightly more talented Tommy Wiseau, but without the charm. For me, the worst it ever got was when we were shooting the last scenes of the third episode. Bernie had been particularly ornery those final few days, especially why we were all freezing our asses off for the surface scenes. Oh man, I hated that place. It made me glad that I wouldn't have to go in there again after things fell apart. God, there we were, shivering away and more concerned with our body warmth and getting our lines right,

or working on that perfect surprise face for the big moment where I find Eunice building a snowman, and he's yelling at us. I mean, at least I got to hugger, that was nice. I was not looking forward to shooting episode four, which Bernie said we'd be doing the next weekend at a special time. But I'd rather not get into that. Oh, wait, you never saw the freezer. Makes sense he didn't want any production stills taken in there.

Couldn't let it get out we were shooting, or what he was putting his actors through for the sake of authenticity. He didn't even want to wait for the work. winter and have us do the surface scenes at dusk or something. God, it would have been warmer outside than in that icebox he stuck us in. Oh, prick. I take it you also don't know about the studio itself. You keep calling it a warehouse, but it was actually a meatpacking plant he somehow rented out.

Well, that explains the stink in the air, and why there was a giant freezer, doesn't it? Yeah, just imagine the documentary that he wanted to put out eventually with your photos. Oh, here's the original cast in the early days of spaceship Earth, which was shot in a slaughterhouse. Not the best publicity, is it? Or maybe it actually could have helped the show. Who knows? People are weird. Since you keep asking, I rack my brain and did my best to remember just what he was so pissed off about that last day of shooting.

I know he'd recently found out that the show was given the 10pm Wednesday night slot months from that. He wasn't happy about that. I wasn't even grateful that the channel would be showing it at all. He went on about how no one would see it, but it could have been worse, but could have been on at two in the morning. Looking back, I think my mind blocked out most of what happened, and he actually had a total meltdown between the takes.

He kept yelling about scheduling, and what they'll do to him if the show doesn't make it big. He never elaborated about who they were, but he was clearly afraid of them. But, like, how the hell was he expected to even pay these people back in the first place from a public access show? Merchandise sales?

I don't think he fully understood just how long it can take to get a show to air either. Even one that's easy to produce. If he was on a time limit to pay what he owed, he should have chosen a line of business with faster results. Okay, I'll give you one more thing, please don't bother me any more afterwards. These last weeks of talking to you have been bringing up some pretty hard memories.

I'm not going to tell you what happened on the supposed episode four, because I wasn't there, and I don't want to pass the story around secondhand. You'll have to try and convince one of the others to let you in on it. It's not going to be me. But I'll give you the contact info for Eunice. If you ever expect her to respond, approach her as politely as you can. can through email and try to convince her that you aren't with the press.

And the last time I was in that building was when I went there late at night, the day before episode four was going to start shooting. The circumstances were strange, but so were a lot of the other things about the production, so maybe I didn't question it as much as I should have. Schmidt had me come in and set up cameras inside the freezer. I asked why he couldn't just have the crew or cinematography. to it, and he, in so many words, told me that I knew the most about technology out of everyone in the cast, and the crew was actually getting paid more than us actors. I thought he was just

cutting corners. Either way, he'd already made me drive out there by myself, so I just did as he asked as quickly as I could. Well, it makes sense to me now, the real reason he had me do it. I wouldn't question it nearly as much as the crew. I was less likely to talk about the odd job and spread it around, which would start rumors, and back then I rationalized it by making myself think that he was just doing something to benefit the cast, after all the complaints we had about the freezer. The guy had me set up three digital cameras in that ice box, all fixed and shooting at different angles. They were hardwired and ran through to the next room over, directly into a laptop.

Well, in my mind, it provided a different way to shoot the surface scene. have less of the crew in there, also freezing. Maybe as actors would feel less pressure on us to get the scene right in a hurry. Hell, I also thought that it would give us an excuse to not spend more than a few minutes in there at a time. We'd get the directions in normal temperatures, run in and do a few takes, then run back out again if we needed more direction. Quick in and out dips like that would have made shooting in the freezer not really a problem at all. I even pictured myself playing the hero on the next shoot.

with Eunice and the others thanking me for making their work lives more bearable. Oh, stupid. I was a goddamn idiot. Trying to think it all away. Put my own spin on something I should have known was suspect. I'll never stop blame myself for what happened, for not telling the others. And the worst part, I wasn't even there. I could have helped stop it, or at least just help in some other way.

As soon as I'm done, Schmidt passed me on my shoulder like we're about to have a father-son talk. And he says to me, We don't need you for the Saturday shoot. You aren't in any scenes yet. Take it easy tomorrow. I'll call you when I need you. To this day, I'm not sure why I was spared. One of the others probably knows, but they won't tell me.

Don't want to add to my guilt, I'm sure. Now please, don't contact me again. I'm sure you want to write a story out of this and maybe try and find us some justice. But too much time has passed and I doubt anyone will ever find that sick piece of shit again. And that was the last I heard from Paulie. I did try to contact him further later on, but he stopped responding. While he provided me with many details that made me feel ill, and realized that my own life could have been in danger back then,

I did have more questions, many more. I needed specifics and the end of the story. I couldn't leave it with something bad happened in the freezer. I had to know. Well, Polly did attach Eunice's contact information, though. She was even more reluctant to talk to me than he was. And once she did acknowledge my existence, she was as combative as one can be through digital mail.

Several times I thought my research would end with her. She replied in short snippets spread across long waiting periods So I don't have as much from her as I do the others Still I did get some more info from her And a good idea of just how terrifying and life-altering The incident was for the cast For the sake of this story

I'll tone down her language Just a bit Eunice What the hell do you want lady I don't give a shit if Paulie gave you my email address because you'd drop by for some scrapbooking a few times at that me plant. We aren't buddies, and for all I know, you're just seeing a chance at some book deal here.

Or maybe a shitty lifetime movie recreation. What that asshole did to us was real. We are real people. Take your investigative journalism and piss off. Okay, I'm sorry, kind of. I might have misread your intentions in the previous emails. It's hard to convey emotion through text right. I get mad easily.

Tricket, I guess the kids call it now. But just for your information, you're making me tap into some traumatic, dark shit by even just bringing up 2006 at all. I mean, why should I tell you? Pretty much a stranger. More than I tell my therapist. I've been in and out of rehab three times since then.

If you send me on a fourth trip, I'll make a new pay for it. Give me another week to gather my thoughts. Two weeks pass. Yeah, I get it. I'm volunteering personal info about myself like it's nothing. My brain got rewired after what happened. I can blab on and on about how messed up I am in real life conversation too.

I'm like a runaway freight train. I've lost a lot of friends because of it. Therapist says it's a coping mechanism. I talk about the shit I do because it helps me keep the shit I don't want to talk about buried and locked away. Damn it, now you've got me shaking. I'm going to take a hit of something and get back to you at around 3 in the morning. Right before bed is when I'm slightly more comfortable talking about the world's twisted side.

Yeah, the crap people pretend they don't want to hear. I wake up the next morning to see an email sent at 4.12 a.m., but I hate it been on that show. I've never even watched an episode of it and I hope that any videotapes that might have a recording have been burned still I was a job and I was getting paid the college debt was already screwing me over Walden and Judy they were nice the robot guy forget his real name he was a little weird

we only really ever saw him inside the robot suit with a digitized voice we all joked that he must have been a method actor it might have been true well he still checks in on us so i have his email but every day i mean literally every day when we were on set poorly would put on his charms around me guy couldn't read the room or get the hint that i wasn't interested granted i guess i never actually told him no to any of his off-the-job propositions my fault on that i left everything up in the air back then maybe was the one word i used to say more than whatever. These days I have no problem saying no, usually a hell preceding it. Well, the two of us are on

good terms now, though. It might even be long-distance friends, actually, which I could really use more of. He really grew up since then, but he was kind of forced to. I wish he'd stopped taking all the blame. It's eating him up inside. That's his way of dealing with it, thinking that feeling guilt soothes the torment. Well, it doesn't. Never will. I'm still a small girl, and back then I had a mild eating disorder that kept me thin on top of it. And that asshole director, I'll never say or write his name. I was always making me wear these pretty little kid dresses from my scenes, with nothing on my legs but a pair of tights. I still have nightmares about that freezer. All my memories of that night are hazy. out of order, and like I experienced them in third person, happening to someone else,

no, disassociation. So don't expect too much from me as far as getting it right and in good detail. We had to come in for a weekend shoot. Saturday night, but just one hour, he tells us. I believe he gave us some excuse about running the freezer on full blast while the electricity rates were lower. It got me thinking, great, we're shooting a blizzard scene. I tell myself if this one hour sucks, I'm off the show.

Not like I signed a contract or anything. I could quit any time. It turned out much worse than any of us could have imagined. He never had a sign of contract because he didn't give a shit about his cast. We were all disposable in his pursuit of art. Maybe he liked poorly enough to spare him, but I'll never know what he was thinking. Not like I'd ever want to do any dinging around in that prick skull. God, I hope he's burning in hell wherever he is.

Like I said, it's a blur to me. I was in survival mode. My mind was shutting down to try and shield me from what was happening. I can't give you specifics. Even if I could, I don't think I'd be ready to relive that night and write it all down. With all the build-up I'm giving you, you probably think he was performing some evil ritual. in that freezer, trying to summon a demon or some shit.

But, it's a lot simpler and more human than that. Look, we took turns being hurt, badly. Don't remember the reason, if there was one, or how he picked who to hurt next. He'd brought in these two huge guys we hadn't seen before. I don't think they ever said a word. Even our boss seemed afraid of them. They were the two that did all of the hurting. You didn't want to get his hands bloody, who knows.

Want to know what was really messed up, though? Two of our torturers were the show's monster costumes the whole time. The cold just made the pain worse. It's bad enough to get bruised all over and crack some ribs on a warm, sunny day. And when your skin is frigid and numb, it's all amplified. It stings far longer. It's like your body can't even start the healing process. process. I also can't remember what happened to my left pinky finger. I mean, at what point I lost it.

But I can see that it's definitely still gone as I type this out. Guess I'd blow that part out. I hope that was the worst of it for me. Speaking of hope, I hope that it was those two maniac thugs that caught up to the show's brilliant creator and sent him to hell for skimping out on the demands of whatever sick bastard was financing him. I'd be extra happy if something awful happened to the pair right after that. But God knows the comic system is a crock. Bad guys get away with evil shit all the time. Well, that's all I'm telling you.

It's just about all I can say anyway. You've put up me with these past weeks, and I appreciate your kind and supportive words, even if I haven't said that until now. so I'm going to give you Walton's email but try to be even more respectful and patient with him his perspective on all of this is confused that night broke a nice older man

all the more reasons never forgive the people who put us through the terror for the sake of an idiotic kitty show yeah one went into that freezer a healthy and talkative guy and he left it mentally scarred and in need of permanent care. But good luck with your story. Goodbye.

Eunice gave me the personal account I wanted of what happened that night, though it lacked details, which was understandable, given what such an experience could do to people, along with the passage of time. I contacted Walter next, who'd be in his early 70s at this point. Now, unlike Eunice and Paulie, he responded and opened up to me right.

away, like he had so much ready to share to anyone who asked. It soon made sense to me why. Eunice was right when she told me about the way he viewed things. Walton types with severe spelling and grammatical errors, and some of his words are entirely wrong or out of context as well, meaning that I had to decipher his responses, and I may have assumed some of his meanings incorrectly. Out of respect for his dignity,

I'll write down his emails as I fix them up, as accurately as I possibly could have done so. The Robot and Walton. Hello, friend. It's so good to speak with someone else from that nice show I worked on. There's so few of us. I wish I could track down the crew and talk with them too. I always like talking about the days gone by. So you took the photographs.

Were they ever developed? I bet they're lovely. I'd very much like to see. them, if just to help me reminisce. Oh, my memory's not as good as it used to be. I want to remember more from the show. It's the only time I really acted, although I wasn't a few commercials when I was younger. Mr. Schmidt was always kind to me.

How's he doing? My other friends won't tell me. If you don't know, then that's okay. Episode four filming went by so quickly for me. I can't even really remember much of it at all. but I can recall some things from the script and the plot the others have forgotten so much I think because of the accident

all they can remember is the accident which is sad we worked together to make a nice story with a good twist at the end but Judy had an accident and the show was cancelled we didn't even get to finish that episode yeah Paulie was missing somewhere on the surface so we got together to look for him we made the surface scenes in a freezer where it's very dark and cold.

Pauly's sister ran away in the last episode on the surface, so our characters thought maybe he did the same thing. But there were monsters waiting for us. They were mean, and they terrified Judy and Eunice. The machine man was calm, since he never had any feelings anyway. I tried to be brave for Judy and Eunice, but then the monsters started hurting me. This wasn't in the script, so it was a big surprise,

and I didn't know how to react. Judy and Eunice shouted at the monsters to stop hitting me when I was okay with it just as long as they didn't hurt the girls they broke my bones but the machine man used the tools attached to his arms to try and help me I'm not sure why we were being hurt in a real way

maybe our director was trying to make a scary scene where we felt true pain and terror before I could ask him when it would end or how our characters were meant to react Judy had the accident and fell down the floor was slippery in there. When Judy fell, the director panicked and ran off. I think the two monsters ran after him.

I remember Eunice saying that we had to leave right away before they came back. The machine man took Judy to the hospital in his car, and Eunice brought me to a different hospital or a doctor helped me get better. One of Eunice's fingers was missing, and I'm not sure why. But she drove her car anyway, and a nurse put a bandage on her hand. We didn't do the show anymore after that. I don't think I got paid for the fourth episode either. I had all that pain and the best acting I ever did.

I never even got a check. It was a very strange experience, and I'm sorry if I got some of the facts wrong. I guess we all remember the show in different ways. Oh, you want to know some more about the robots? Well, since you saw the show, you must remember that he could attach all sorts of tools to his arms. It was a part of the costume, and the character. to use things like a wrench, drill, a hammer, and a circular sawer in the episodes we did make to solve problems and fix broken things.

The costume's actual hands couldn't hold objects very well on their own, because they were so big and clunky. That's why we made it so that the tools could be attached to the arms. Well, I should know I helped make the robot suit. I used to do metal welding, so I taught the costume designer a few things, and I'd say we made a very good costume that was a perfect fit for the puppeteer. I wish I could see it again, and that we made more episodes, too, of course. I always wanted to see an action figure version made of it, if the show became ahead. Sadly, it wasn't meant to be.

I wonder where the costume is now. I still have every episode on tape. I like to watch them now and then, although I have to be sneaky about it. We're not supposed to use the VCR here ourselves. It's the last one we have, and the caretakers are worried, will break it. But I have very steady hands, even if the rest of me shakes. The following is the last topical email I got from Walton. No, I don't know Judy's email.

The robot contacts her sometimes, but with a new email each time, it's just numbers, so I can't really share it. I'm sorry. Hey, but thank you for your correspondence. It was nice to talk to someone about the old days. Let me know if you find the fourth episode. I'd like to see how it turned out. Part 3.

My emails with Warden didn't stop entirely, like with Paulie and Eunice. While we didn't talk too much about the show, as he'd given me everything he could, I did feel sorry for him and wanted to give him someone to chat with. He had somehow held onto a sense of humour and warmth despite what he'd experienced, why his mind really must have blocked out

or forgotten most of the terror of that night. Unfortunately, I don't know. also made him an unreliable source. Even so he did make me turn my attention onto the robot character. It was true that the costume's arms could hold all sorts of attachments, any one of which could double as a torture instrument. I had to wonder if the actor and puppeteer was in on it in some way, or at the very least had no problem with some torture in a freezer. In the show he's a knowledgeable machine and a Swiss army knife of equipment and ideas that can fix any situation, where the little help from his human friends. The character really was simply known as the robot,

and that's how the name appears in the credits. But with no IMDB page for the show, it isn't easy searching for any of the actors to see what else they might have been in. Googling the name of guy in the robot suit revealed no social media, but I did find some simple information from media and military sources. He was a discharged soldier from Iowa who'd served in Afghanistan, and he would been around 35 when the show's production was going on. But, without contact information for him or Judy, my search had nowhere else to go. He only ever reached out to the others when he wanted to, and apparently Judy had left the internet altogether, I assume, for the sake of her mental health. My only hope of getting in touch with the puppeteer seemed to rely on one of the cast telling him

about me in a response to one of his emails from a temporary address, and then he'd need to willingly reach out to me. It was a long shot, and I accepted that my investigation was probably over. Paulie wasn't there at all that night, and Eunice and Warden both suffered so much that they could no longer give me clear and consistent details. And months went by, and gradually my interest faded away again. I re-watched the show several times to try and pick up any hidden meanings or subtle visual clues. What kinds I had, no idea. Just anything. that seemed off. Well, there wasn't anything, really. Other than its dark atmosphere and some serious themes, well, the series was fairly straightforward and didn't leave much to dissect.

You could argue that I was trying to find out something that only happened around the show. It was vile, but had little or nothing to do with the production. For no rational reason, Schmidt basically sabotaged his own show. He owed money to someone, fine, but did he really think he'd get away with it? But his cast would come in on Monday to get back to shooting, missing fingers and toes, with broken bones and all. He'd have to start the entire production from scratch. If anyone from the cast was meant to survive,

they would have told the crew, and then old Bernie would have to flee the country if he wanted a chance to try making his show again somewhere else. And unless he found a bank willing to give him alone, he'd likely end up making a cycle of the whole thing. I don't know. It was around the three-month mark of my investigation when I finally took a step back and got a good look at how ridiculous the whole thing was.

Schmidt was either never right in his head or he'd made an incredibly stupid deal with a scumback who later took him by complete surprise by making him set up a torture night in a meat locker. I tried looking into who might have financed the whole thing but got nowhere. The end credits don't list or thank anyone for signing the checks. While I did get information on the old meat plant where the show was shot fairly easily,

it was another dead end. There's nothing dubious about the company that once owned the building, which has long since been demolished. There was a full production with people I could talk to about it, and yet due to the nature of its obscurity and obfuscated traumatic memories, I had nothing but a few fuzzy first-hand accounts of that night. night. It was frustrating, to say the least. The answers always felt just out of reach. Then, in the middle of 2021, right around the time I was getting ready to give up and move on with my life.

The actor and puppeteer who played the robot suddenly emailed me out of the blue. We only responded to one another a few times, but he provided the greatest detail yet of what happened. because his memory was unclouded. Well, I think I'd be better off had I not known of this perspective than version of the truth. But I feel obligated to include his take.

The robot. Hello, is this the photographer? Respond within three days, or you'll miss your chance. The others have told me you wanted to talk. I can't say for certain when I'll be in touch again. I seldom check on them anymore. I send a reply within the first five minutes. Okay, I assure you I haven't been ignoring you or trying to hide.

I simply wasn't aware of your investigation into all of this. Maybe you can shed some light on it, maybe not. The rest of us have been over everything more than enough. It's now a tired story to us, and I feel guilty making them revisit it many times, trying to bring out the last tiny droplets of detail from a dirty sponge. I don't think there's anything left to learn at this point. I've never been able to find the person or people truly responsible for that night. I know a bit about looking into things myself.

This is coming from the guy who emotionally and mentally survived the most from what happened, if you couldn't tell already. You've already taught the others, so there's a good chance you suspect me of being more involved than they were. I get that. I was always in a robot suit and spoke with no emotion, so of course I'm going to be seen as less than human or unfeeling by them, even if, just unconsciously.

But we've had many chats, and they trust me to some degree. Despite not even knowing my face, as far as I can recall, I always came in before them and left after, because it took half an hour just to get in or out of that elaborate costume, and I think old Bernie liked it that way. The cast never got to know me, so their acting reflected that. To them I was basically an automaton that they had little need to show any attachment towards. There was always a person in that metal.

Yes, I did serve in the Middle East, but not for long. I did things there that I'm not proud of, which I still hate about myself. My discharge from service was neither honourable or unjust. Without the benefits, and coming home as a broken man, I was desperate for money in some sense of purpose again. I never expected where that chance would come from. Out of the blue one day. Mr. Schmick calls me and us if I want to be in a public access show

that had great promise. I don't know how he found my number, or why he chose me specifically. I think it's a joke of a scam at first. But he makes himself sound legit, so I stay on the phone with him. Eventually he gets to the compensation part of the car, conversation. It's a lot, much more than you'd ever think someone would get on a show

maybe only a few hundred people would ever see. When I stepped foot inside of that warehouse a few months later and met the rest of the cast, while in the robot suit, always in the robot suit, I already had no doubt that I was by far the highest paid among them, because I had a special purpose, as it would later turn out. Now I'm not an actor, not even a blip in my mind. But Mr. Schmidt doesn't care, tells me my voice will be replaced by a digital one in post. Never worn a complicated costume before either. Doesn't matter, he goes on. He needed someone used to hauling around heavy gear all day,

feeling okay being confined in body armour while lugging around material. The robot suit would be a natural fit for me, he says. Then he adds what is most important. But I don't frighten easily. that I knew how to hurt people. A red flag right there. I'm thinking he's trying to get me to do some satem masochistic crap on a porno he's making on the side

while he has this warehouse rented out. No, no, don't misunderstand. I remember him telling me. I just have this idea for an episode later on where you malfunction and become a bad robot for a bit. I want you to be able to strike genuine fear into other characters. and I also have defense routines so I can protect the others

so I'd be beating up people in rubber monster suits on occasion as well He doesn't want me flinching or hesitating in those moments Because he wants the fight scenes to look genuine A real perfectionist this guy Trying to show the world his grand vision But I couldn't argue with the pay So I agree and sign on First couple episodes go great

It's a new experience for me, and I enjoy playing a character where I just have to move around in some bulky metal. I don't need to worry about my wooden delivery if everything was going to be dubbed over anyway. It doesn't even give me directions most of the time. I just recite my dialogue, move where I'm supposed to, and use the power tools that attach to the suit when necessary. Back then, I thought I simply didn't need much direction, and all these years later, I get why. I either intimidated him or he didn't want to provoke me and get on my bad side before what was coming. You already know the rest, so I'll skip ahead to that night. I have to change into the suit myself, since none of the crew is there and I don't have my usual helper around.

Mr. Schmidt doesn't look agitated with me when I finally join the others in the freezer, despite causing a delay. I noticed that Pauley isn't there, and Eunice, Julian Ward. or have these looks. Like they know everything about this shoot is wrong, yet aren't ready to run off into the night and save themselves just yet. They probably didn't believe that whatever they thought was about to happen naturally would, that that night was real. Bernie doesn't say a word until these two giant guys wearing the show's monster suits come in.

God, they barely fit, and their muscles are clearly breaking the seams. But, you know what? I feel safe in my robot get up. At first, it's just an absurd situation to me. Well, I guess you had to be there. The short of it is, Bernie gives the directions while his two goons stand idly by, looking threatening. I'm to follow instructions exactly, he says.

I notice he has an earpiece. He's listening to someone, but I never found out who. The orders are simple, and clear. I'll inflict pain on the others. If I refuse, I'll be punished, and the monster man will do the deeds instead. He knows I got the power tools, so he adds that if I try to run or be a hero, he'll detonate a remote explosive located somewhere in my suit. And the guy had lost his mind, and to this day I don't even know if he was telling the truth. I was too much of a cow to fight back, or look for a stick of C4 or whatever he's supposedly hidden outfit that I had no way of getting out of easily.

Chances are he was lying, but, well, I believed him. The bad shit goes on for just 20 minutes, but it feels longer. I'm not going to get heavily into specifics. I remember it all, but it's my choice not to tell you exactly what happened. I mean, I hope you're not the kind of person that has. to know everything that goes inside a damn torture dungeon. There's yelling, crying, cursing, a heavy mix of emotion, and the cast is also comforting in trying to help one another.

I refuse a few times and watch the monsters hit them even harder than I would, and the old bolt cutters one of them is armed with, are slow and painful. And so, I end up forcing myself to do things as much as I can, just because I know I can throw my punches a little. As bad as it is for me to hurt the girls, it's even worse doing it to Walton. The guy was always so nice.

He had no idea what was happening. Minute by minute I see his humanity drain away until he completely shuts down. It's after I, and sorry for typing this out, take off one of his toes, that the orders to hurt him further. suddenly stop. Duty becomes a sole victim after that.

I've got no idea why Schmidt is directing all this wrath towards her. The bastard just stands there throughout it all, chewing something nervously, bouncing a leg up and down between shouting new orders every minute or so. Then it all makes sense to me. Like my subconscious have been putting the pieces together while I'm doing all this reprehensible shit to people I come to consider friends. On my way to the freezer, I'd seen a laptop set up on a table near its door, with wires connected that disappeared into a hole in the wall.

Didn't think much of it at the time. But when I glanced at it earlier, I saw some website with a dark background and a box of scrolling text. And positive it was a chat room. So, I figured it out yet. I'm 99% sure that Schmidt's financiers made him pay back his debts by setting a up a red room. He explained the seemingly random methods used against the cast, and how they were chosen. Sick fucks from all over the world are throwing money at their screens to see pain.

Highest bidder gets their request pushed through. Once they've sampled the menu, they decide to gang up on duty, want to make her the star of the show. I wonder about two things the most. How much money could have come in by the end of the night? and how far it could have gone. I don't think I'll ever find the answers. It all ended early, as quickly as it began. When Judy fainted and clapped to the floor,

Eunice and Walton tried to help her, and the monsters rushed over to pull them off, not caring at all about Judy's help. Well, that was when Schmidt must have panicked and saw his chance. The goons might have been keeping him a prisoner in there as much as they were us, and with their attention elsewhere, and no longer guarding the door, our fabulous director ran off into the night, almost slipping on the frozen floor as he did so. That was the last I saw of the guy. The muscle then ripped off their stupid masks and went after him,

and we were left alone. We also wasted no time in escaping. I know what serious bodily distress looks like. Yeah, saw plenty of myself while serving. I still keep this from the others, but Judy had actually gone into cardiac arrest. She just couldn't take it the whole night. They scared her into a heart attack, and I think Schmidt saw it too and bugged out when he realized where this was going. Of course, he was probably only worried about himself, getting caught and going away for a long time. Couldn't make a TV show from herself. Well, I had to get her to my car and to the hospital. I saved myself as well.

So forgive me for not grabbing the laptop when I had the chance. I'd forgotten about it in the moment, and it would have been hard to carry with me even if I hadn't. Yeah, leaving it behind is another regret. But I try to tell myself that there was nothing on it that would have helped us to get people to prison or simply reveal why this was happening to us. And it could be right.

Maybe it was just a big, burner machine. They had a stream of video and nothing else. I hope I'm right. And so, despite my best efforts, Judy didn't make it. Her heart just couldn't take it. And thinking back, I might have seen her take pills on our breaks before, so she may have been on medication for a pre-existing condition. Not like the doctors would have told me, or that it even matters.

The fact is, they skisking. dared her to death. She'd still be here, if not for all that piece of shit put her through. The others still don't know. I could never bring myself to tell them. When I email them, my lie, see, I'm still in contact with Judy, that she says hi and is getting better. Not sure why I'm telling you.

Maybe I can't bring myself to lie to one more person. But please, don't tell them. I know it's wrong, but if they find out, it'll just make everything even worse for them. After everything I've seen, I can handle it without breaking. I'm not so sure about Walton or Eunice. I wish I could get justice for Judy, but I doubt we'll ever hear from or about Schmidt ever again.

I haven't even been able to track down the crew from the show. For all I know, one or more of them may have been in I too. Oh, and, um, one more thing. I haven't trusted poorly since he told me about the cameras, a few months after it went down. I never really liked him to begin with, honestly. Eunice gets along with him and disagrees with me when I tell her I find it just too suspicious that he wasn't there that night. He could have been running the stream from the safety of his bedroom, and he has yet to really

convince me otherwise. Eunice just tells me to chill about it. She says that a young white guy wasn't the preferred demographic of the people watching. On the other hand, plenty of market for two girls and an old kind dude, right. But it's, whatever.

Not like I'll ever find the truth or be able to do anything about it. I can tell the others don't fully trust me and never will. I was a black sheep of the cast and was forced to brutalize them, so I get it. Though if they think I left that freezer

without any scars, untouched by Schmidt, they are wrong. I probably got it the worst having to do what I did. Well, second after Judy. Schmidt was wrong, too, about his reasons for hiring me. You never get used to hurting people. If only we could find the producer who gave Schmidt the money and means in the first place. In all likelihood, they were also the ones that hired us based off of the audition tapes we all sent in,

since our director didn't really compliment anyone's acting. and I never got the impression that he was the one who chose us. Well, follow the money trail, right? If only it were at all possible. The whole production was shady, done under the radar, didn't even use contracts. But I have no plans to contact the others, or you again. I could change my mind in a few years,

but for now I think I'll disappear for a while. Well, they still think that's what Judy did, so I'm sure they'll understand. understand. With any luck, you'll get something out of your look into this darkness. Part 4. Following the robot's responses, I took a long break from everything. When I tried to get back to the search for any information at all, I quickly gave up. I don't want to go any further. I feel both drained and like I've already done enough. I'll soon have a baby that will take up my focus as well. and that's why I'm posting my findings on this lost media message board.

Not sure where else to ask for a call to action? You guys know what you're doing, and while I know that this case is a bizarre one, that's a bit outside the usual, all I'm asking is for a community effort from the professionals. All of the proceeding was posted in late 2021. A real bastard. In the end, making all of this public may have been a mistake. I was hopeful at first and got some new perspective from the dozen or so members that reached out into the world for clues about the production or the whereabouts of the crew and the director.

While some among the crew were actually found and contacted, they had little to add, and none of them had any knowledge of that night before or after. We just got the same opinions about Schmidt from them, and he was strange or a creep. And they also all had the thought back then about where he got his money. There was something else that caught fire in the thread I started, though, and it led me to have doubts about all four of the cast members that I'd talk with. As Eunice had said in an email, the emotion is hard to convey through text, and with no eyes to look into, so is intention and truth.

None of the four had airtight alibis, and reasons were brought up on why any of them could be the mastermind. I mean, even Walton became a suspect to us. At least likely, sure, but that would have been the point. He could have faked his condition to make himself seem innocent. Searches have been done to try and find out what care facility you might be staying in, with no results. Granted, that isn't easy information to get hold of, but there's almost nothing at all about the guy online.

You'd think Eunice would be spared, too, but her intensity came off as a little forced, maybe even completely fake to those helping in the search. I posted her original and uncensored emails to me where she's even more spiteful and they really don't come across as fully genuine she likes poorly when he's arguably just as suspicious as the robot

and if she hated being on the show as much as she did why didn't she just quit she could have easily been replaced all of them could really Schmidt saw the cast as disposable literally and of course Paulie wasn't even there

Or he didn't buy the idea about him not being in demand If some psychos wanted to pay To see the cast being tortured He and his happy-go-lucky attitude Would have been on the list There's no way that someone Didn't want to turn his smiles

Into screams He also said up the cameras He had to have known something was going on Could have gone home to run the chat room from bed And then easily play innocent Well, Judy, we just don't have enough information about. From my brief interactions with her, she struck me as an aloof person and hard to read,

at least when she wasn't in character. She didn't seem to be in need of money either. I saw her parker Mercedes in the morning that the second episode started shooting. Only the robot was with her following the main event, and it could be that he helped her fake her death and vanish without a trace. We didn't find any stories online about her demise, not even an obituary. As for the robots, the uncertainty we had with him came from all the same old reasons. He did the torturing, comes off as emotionally unaffected, and we still don't even know what he looks like.

Everything he told me was reasonable, but just not enough to clear himself of involvement. I feel like I can speak about the cast this way now, because I have doubts I'll ever get to talk to any. of them again or that they'll read any of this when i say that getting a community involved may have been a mistake it's not from the lack of trying they dug up the episodes and watched them they got interested and they did try too hard though despite my wishes they tracked down alternate emails for paulie and eunice and i made an error in my post that also gave away walton's as a result the three were asked too many questions and borderline harassed They stopped responding to everyone within a few days and disappeared themselves from the internet.

The thread got out of control and my involvement in the investigation ended. I blame myself. Eventually, about eight months ago, I stopped checking the message board altogether once each reply was nothing but speculation and bad leads. Right now, it's late 2022. The story worked itself into my mind again recently, so I went ahead and gave it. the thread a look, just to see where it had gone. After so long, I thought, maybe someone had found something. I wasn't going to delve back into it myself, not when I have a family to manage, but I was always going to have some lingering curiosity. Unsurprisingly, the thread had devolved

into baseless theories and insults. All meaningful conversation died off about six months ago, with no substantive new information. The last post simply read, "'Ah, fuck this show. "'That's not quite where this all ends, however. "'The second to last post was made just a week ago, "'with someone asking, "'Hey, any updates on this? "'Does anyone have any fresh links for the show?

"'I wanted to watch it again, "'but sources keep getting removed for some reason.' "'The thread was locked shortly afterwards "'by one of the moderators of the message board. "'That moderator had been on the forum for many years, "'long before I'd even first post the story. Yet they hadn't left a reply in my thread until the day that they locked it. Here is their message. Locking this for the necro-bump. This thread is dead. Not like it was getting

anywhere. Might as well reveal to you guys that I've been lurking in here for a while, and it's sad watching you all bumble about with no answers. I worked on this show. Actually, I both produced it and acted in it. "'So you got that much right.' "'To everyone who hates Schmidt, "'don't worry. "'I took care of that idiot long ago.' "'Well, I'm not sure what to make of this claim,

"'especially coming from one of the message board staff. "'I contacted an admin, but never even got a response. "'Maybe they're investigating, but keep inquired about it. "'I haven't seen any post from that moderator since then, "'but then again it's only been a week. It could just be a sick joke. Who knows what will happen from here. I'll just continue to be thankful that I

wasn't more involved with spaceship Earth. But it was one hell of a first job. Part one. Something's there. Class had started no more than three minutes ago, and Danny's hand was already up and dangling. Mr. Swatson was getting annoyed. Danny used to be such a nice kid. never bothering the class, always doing his homework properly,

hell, even explaining the day's lesson to the one or two dunces who never understood anything. He would always praise the boy for his good behaviour and hunger for knowledge. However, Mr Swatson has been holding back on the praises lately, and that is because Danny's raised hand during class stopped being for participation purposes. Mr. Swatson, may I please go to the toilet? What was Mr. Swatson supposed to say? Or Miss Peeble, or Miss McCoy? The entire teacher lounge was talking about Danny with sunken eyebrows and harsh undertone.

Disrespectful, they called the boy. It was clear to everybody that Danny was purposefully waiting for class to start to excuse himself to go to the bathroom. And they were right. He was doing it on purpose. But what the teachers didn't know is that the boy hated going to the toilet during class. He had no choice, however, because the last time he did go to the bathroom during break time, this happened. Flush him again, Wayne. Danny tried to pull his head out of the

toilet, but he hadn't been blessed with puberty yet and was being held down by two upper-classmen who were. I thought I told you I need it by Thursday, Collins. Danny was trying to explain himself between flushes, but Marvin wouldn't have it. Wayne, keep flushing him until he I tell you to stop? Water was so cold. Danny's nose was bleeding. Marve, I think his nose is bleeding. Marvin pulled Wayne upright and grabbed Danny himself.

You think your pussy has nose is impressive, Collins. Where the fuck is my book report? You're supposed to have it done by third period. I'm sorry. Danny was breathing greedily. I'm so sorry. I couldn't finish the book and I had to go to grandpas from my parents That's...

Marvin yanked down his head back in the toilet with so much force, the boy hit his head against the hard margin. The cold water and bleeding nose with nothing compared to the fresh ache of his forehead. I don't give a flying, fuck you shit eater. I told you to do it. If I get my hands on you out to school, I'm going to skin you alive. Marvin flushed down his head one last time

before standing up and ordering his boys to follow him. Everybody was scared of Marvin. Wherever he would go, he would always have his oversized bright orange jacket with a blue zipper on and an entourage of three faithful followers. His jacket was his trademark. People didn't even have to look in his direction to see him approaching from the corner of their eyes. That's what Marvin loved about that jacket. Not because it was expensive and not because it made his shoulders look wider than they actually were. It's because, wherever he went, it was announcing his presence from afar.

Mike and Wayne were Marvin's muscles, while pretty boy Jimmy was his eyes and ears. They weren't always together, but when they were, it was bad news. Danny had a couple of friends, but they were too afraid to stand up for him, or even be seen talking to him. It would have been impure suicide, now that Danny was King Marvin's new target. Feeling like he'd received enough beating for one day, Danny emptied his locker and went home. No teacher saw him leave.

but he still had a good rep amongst the school staff, so people just assumed he'd felt sick or something. Oh, he felt sick all right. His late fall and the cold air against his facial wounds was killing him. His forehead had a swollen, horizontal bruising. Even though he wiped his nose with the sleeve of his hoodie, he only managed to wipe off the dry blood above his lip. His chin, neck and shirt, could still give the nose bleed away.

Danny didn't want to cry. The shame he felt wouldn't let him off the hook that easily. Sunking into thoughts, he didn't notice that he'd already reached the wooden bridge. As upset as he was, the creepy house on Boone Street wasn't creeping him out today. Usually he'd speed up the pace as soon as he'd reached the lake. Well, every girl and boy was afraid of the creepy house on Boone Street, and the still, dark lake across from it. It was an immense property.

The house had three stories and looked old and uncamped, not to mention the roses that would grow wild and spiky all around it in untamable patterns. It was a shortcut only meant for joggers or students because even though the bridge itself and the pathway following the bridge were wide enough for cars to pass through, the wild roses were reaching their limbs outside the fence of the creepy house far enough to cover over half of the pathway. Ouch! Danny acknowledged the spike rose that scratched his cheek.

He was halfway through the pathway, when he stopped and turned with angry eyes. The rose that scratched him was abnormally long, but beautiful and contrary to Marvin. It was a bully he could hurt back. Danny grabbed the pretty flower in his hand, and just as he wanted to twist and rip, the tears started pouring with such further. Even Marvin and his follows would have felt a little sorry. Danny let the rose go. Just one pedal fell off it, Dent.

out of reflex, he bent over to pick it up and see if he could attach it to the rest of the roseblatt. The boy knew it was pointless, but in his childish mind he could at least try. That's when it struck him like lightning. Someone's watching me. He looked up at the house and his blood froze in his veins. She was young, as young as him or maybe a little younger. And as irony would have it, She had long black hair and was wearing a white, hooded dress or robe. Danny couldn't tell and didn't stick around to unravel the details. She was the embodiment of every ghost-themed horror movie.

Danny ran like a bat out of hell, and by the time he got home, Marvin's bullying from before was just a little less bad than seeing a ghost. Part two. And it's moving. Mom and Dad asked questions, but Danny, well, he fell, he swore. No, of course school was going great and of course he was fine and getting along with everybody. No, he didn't know why Mr. Swatson would call them to ask why Danny was acting so strangely lately. Dad, is there another shortcut to school except the one by the lake? No, but you can take Fog Street and then turn left on Maples.

Oh, that was the long way to school. Danny would have preferred the long way to school a hundred times over the shortcut if it meant avoiding the creepy house with its mean plants, but taking maples was just as bad, or probably worse. Marvin lived on that street. Yeah, I know. Never mind. I lived in this town my whole life and only took that shortcut once. I can still remember it. I was in third grade and was late for math.

crept the hell out of me. We used to call that house Manson Manor back in the day. His dad shuddered and laughed in an attempt at hiding it. I admire you, Danny. You're way braver than your old man was. But Danny sunk his head in shame. If his dad only knew the reason why he was taking the shortcut, he would laugh in his damaged face.

You can see those damn roses from Joss and Christine's baby room. Their house is three streets away from Booneers for them. Pete's sake. Danny's mom interfered. Does anyone still live there? Beats me. Last I heard the old lady that owned the place died and left it to a daughter and granddaughter. This was 15 years ago, mind you. Just be careful around there. Okay, honey? Shawma. But it was not an old, weird-looking house that Danny was supposed to be careful around. He began seeing Marvin's face during class in the window of his classroom door. The bully was looking for him.

Lucky for Danny, Tom Whisk, the boy seeing in front of him, was very tall, so Danny could hide behind him every time Marvin's angry eyes was seeking their new favourite victim. He felt like a bird in a cage, trying to hide from the hungry cat.

Problem is, this cat was a snake. Kids like Marvin were not afraid of teachers or parents. One thing he was afraid of, was being made a fool of in front of the followers he called friends, and that is exactly what Danny did. He dared come to school even though he didn't have Marvin's book report with him.

Unless he'll manage to convince his parents to be transferred to another school, his ass was bacon by the end of the year. Danny would always wait 15 minutes after school was over to go home. And if that wasn't enough of a precautionary measure, he'd also take the scary shortcut to avoid Marvin's street. After the day with a toilet incident, he made it a rule to never look up at the creepy house again. The last thing he needed was to freak himself out bad enough to start taking the long way home, passing by Marvin's house. He'd be willingly throwing himself into the lion's open mouth, or the snakes as it had already been established.

Ghosts were scary, but Danny doubted their punches were as painful as Marvin's were. Even so, it was two weeks after seeing the girl in the window when he stopped dead in his tracks by the bridge and reconsidered the scary versus painful scale in his mind. There was something moving at the other end of the bridge in the left corner. A small crouch figure with black hair was trying to pull something out of the water. Danny froze. He thought about turning back and taking the long way around, but he was still. simply too close to home to chicken out. Regardless, he couldn't move.

The figure's head turned to look in his direction, and Danny flinched as he recognised the little girl in the white dress. He'd seen that one time in the creepy house's window. She fixated her eyes on him, and Danny knew that whatever was about to happen, turning back was not an option. He carefully advanced on the bridge, making it his day's purpose not to look the little girl in the face.

The little girl took no mind of him and turned her head back to whatever she was doing in the water. The wood was creaking under Danny's steps and, given the circumstances, he couldn't decide if he should walk slower or faster. His determination faltered, and Danny threw the little girl the briefest glance. Reflexes work that way. She was looking straight at him.

Still crouched above the water. The corners of her lips lifted upwards. Hello. Danny sprinted. As soon as he got home, he locked all the doors leading up to his room. That night, he dreamt of demons wanting to eat his soul. And even though the demons were all black-haired little girls, they wore oversized orange jackets with blue zipples.

Part 3. It's a lie. Next day, Danny took a brave and very mature decision regarding his way home from school. He decided to take the long way round, arcing by Marvin's house. How bad could he be? He didn't see much of Marvin that day at school anyway. And so, after the daily wait of 15 minutes after school was over, Danny marched forward. He walked and walked, and walked, right by the crossing which led to the bridge, turning daringly on Maples, Marvin Street. Danny smirked.

Wouldn't you know it? No danger in sight. That was awesome, Benny. Keep it up. A boy in an oversized orange jacket barged out of a liquor store ten feet in front of Danny. He pulled along another boy, a blonde kid in the punk rock excuse of an outfit, and kept walking forward with his arm around the other's neck. Marvin and Jimmy

They didn't see him, but Danny wasn't risking anything. He turned around, sweating and praying that the boys don't notice him, and they didn't. To his sweet relief, their voices, loud and obnoxious, could be heard further and further as he reached the crossing a second time. Knowing he had no other choice, Danny advanced towards the bridge, acknowledging the tiny figure bent over the water. She turned her head towards him, and then back to the water. He didn't speed up his pace this time. Now that he took a better look at her, there was no way this little girl was a ghost.

There was no white robe in sight, just a red and yellow striped shirt under a black velvet overall. She was indeed pale, but there was a very human bruise on her left knee, and her hair was not black, but dark brown. Unlike the other day, she had no intention. of saying hi. Instead, she kept poking with a stick around the water, raising it to her face for inspection ever so often. Sensing a fellow human, Danny paid better attention to what she was doing. The little girl was fishing for tadballs with a butterfly net, and as soon as he saw her grabbing one of them, with its tail squirming between her thumb and index finger, Danny came to a halt and found his angry voice. Hey, stop that, you bully. The girl looked at him wide-eyed.

Her eyes like two chocolate marbles. Why? Because you're hurting them. She inhaled sharply and threw the tabhole back into the water. Shocked of what she just found out. My God, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't know.

She sunk the purposeful end of her butterfly net back into the water and let the other tadpoles swim away. I'm so sorry. I didn't know. Danny found her reaction kind of funny. but he was also sorry for accusing her like that. She did seem genuinely distressed. That's okay.

Only a few of them survived to become frogs anyway. The girl looked at him with questioning eyes. They become frogs? Yeah. Oh. Danny remembered to keep on walking. You almost heard of Rose two, you know. He looked at her.

Not sure he knew. she meant. I saw she hurt you, so I called her back in the garden. Violence doesn't work with them. You need to ask nicely. Danny, was at a loss for words? Um, okay. A sudden smile shone all over her face. You learned something from me today, and I learned something from you. Mom said friendship is bringing out the best in another person and letting that person bring out the best in you. Can we be friends? Danny chuckled and the little girl looked very hurt. Sure, I mean, we can try, but please don't cry.

This upset her even more. I'm not. She turned her head back to Danny and crouched next to her butterfly net once more. Forget it. You don't want to be friends. Nobody wants to be friends with the girl who lives in the creepy house on Bonner Street. She wasn't exactly wrong, but... Danny felt like an asshole, and an asshole was something he was definitely not.

Hey, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I ran away from you yesterday. She looked at him. All signs of incoming sadness gone. That's okay. I get that a lot. He pretty much expected that answer, but what he didn't expect was a sweet smile that followed it. The question he asked next came as involuntarily as a hiccup. "'Hey, what's your name?' "'I can't tell you that. "'Kits like you laugh when they hear my name.

"'It's a weird one. "'Just call me whatever you like.' "'Danny frowned. "'Can I just call you by your name?' "'She looked his way and blinked once before answering. "'It's Clotho.' "'That is a weird name. "'Told you.

"'I'm Danny.' Clotho smiled again. Can I ask you for a favor, Danny? What favor? Well, what not weird girl name would be closest to my name? Danny was dumbfounded. What? What not weird girl name would be closest to my name?

Well, that would be, what's your name again? She pouted. Clotho. Right, um... Claire, I guess. No, Chloe. Chloe would be a not weird alternative. Alternative. What does that mean? Alternative. What you're trying to do right now?

You're trying to replace something with something else. The girl looked like a light bulb just ignited above her head. Like replacing something bad with something good? Danny was stuck, and he didn't like being stuck, especially when it came to mind games. He was not the strongest in the schoolyard, but he was definitely among the smartest. Oh, yeah, exactly. Wow, I'm learning so much from you.

We're going to be great friends, Danny. Right, okay, um, Chloe. Danny forgot her name again, but he'd be damned if he'd admitted a new. Is it okay if I call you Chloe? Sure, Danny. Okay, well, I need to get going now. Why? You just got here? Yeah, but I'm only passing through.

I'm not like visiting or anything. Oh, right. Your mom's waiting for you. That wasn't precisely the case, seeing how his mom was always working late and Danny was home alone for three hours after school until his dad got home, but that was not something his new friend needed to know.

Well, okay then. You'll come by tomorrow again, won't you? Yeah, I'm taking the... this path every day. I know. I saw you. Danny was creeped out, but her smile was so innocent and sweet. He decided it was no way she meant that a stalker type of way. Well then, see you tomorrow, Chloe. Yeah, see you tomorrow, Danny. Part four, it's a she. Now that the weird girl was harmless. Danny was fine with taking the shortcuts. You still had to way at the 15 minutes after school for Marvin and his bodyguards to be out of sight, but his way

home was not a problem anymore. He found it weird that Marvin started ordering Mike and Wayne to run ahead, just for him and Jimmy to follow along a couple of minutes after, but that still didn't interfere with the 15-minute rule. Danny would always be looking out the classroom window with his back glued to the wall so that his bullies couldn't see him in case they looked up. He was 50 feet away from the bridge when he saw Chloe wave enthusiastically in his direction. Hey, Danny! She was just so happy to see him. She shouted her greetings even though Danny was the size of a tabhole in her field of vision.

You're early today. I wanted to meet you at your school, to walk you here. Danny was stunned at her yelling didn't summon more faces in the windows of the creepy house. He, however, was mannered enough to reply only when she was close enough to hear a level tone. Okay. Why? So we have a little more time to chat. There are a couple of things I'd like to ask you. We need to know some things about each other now that we're friends. Right. Why are you so early today? Early. He was late. 15 minutes late, in fact. I'm actually late. Yesterday was just an exception. I didn't want Marvin to see me taking the long way home. Chloe's head bent

slightly to the side. What does exception mean? Danny checked himself. Why did he just tell her about Marvin? She didn't have to know. It means something out of the ordinary, something that's not like the others, even though it should be. She smiled.

Like you? What? No, not at all. I'm very ordinary, trust me. Chloe smiled at him like he just said the most naive thing in the world. I've tried making friends so many times, but they all ran away from me. The dark-haired girl leaned towards him a little without stepping forward. You are an exception to me, Danny.

Danny blushed. He didn't know if he should thank her or ask her to never speak to him again, but she made the decision for him. What's your favourite colour? Danny chuckled. You did not just ask me that. She got a worried, look on her face. I did. What are you saying? It's the oldest question in the book. Chloe's face was a

question mark in itself. What book? Geez, what planet did you come from? Chloe seemed genuinely puzzled, and Danny was getting frustrated with her. He resumed walking and passed Chloe by with the sheer intention of getting home. He was off the bridge and on the pathway, passing by the roses that caused so much gossip amongst the housewives in town. Earth. I'm from Earth. Danny decided to ignore her. I don't understand this game we're playing. You have to tell me the rules first. Danny let out an exasperated sigh and yelled from the centre of the pathway in the girl's direction. All of them. All of what? All colours. I like every colour there is. Chloe was astounded.

really i thought you'd say blue or something no i've always liked them all the same i can never pick a favorite chloe was beaming see told you you're an exception danny couldn't help himself his sudden good mood was undeniable he thought the girl was dumb and weird sure but she definitely knew how to boost to lose his ego thanks you're an exception too Chloe's big eyes got even bigger I am you sure are see you tomorrow okay she looked disappointed

but she still took his remark as a compliment okay have a nice day tomorrow part five she's pretty stupid he had no idea how it got there and he had no idea what he did to deserve it

he only let his school bag out of sight for 10 seconds at a time. Whenever the ball landed in his hands, he needed to scan the court to see whom to pass it to. The gym teacher was fine with the kids leaving their schoolbags on the benches during sports. That, of course, was good for Danny, because the lock to his locker was busted, meaning he'd have to drag his rucksack with him everywhere. Even though they were older, Wayne and Mike were in Danny's gym class because both of them were slightly overweight, and their parents told the gym teacher, they would not be able to participate in sports. due to their bad knees.

Last time the teacher argued against such affirmations. He got himself a lawsuit, which is why he agreed for Mike and Wayne to just sit, watch and laugh at other kids from the side during sports. Wayne and Mark were chatting on the bench, throwing an eye to the basketball game ever so often. Danny would never have thought it was him they were there for. He simply did his best at being mediocre,

grabbed his rucksack on his way out of the gym, man, just like everybody else who'd been in constant motion for the past 50 minutes, went for the water bottle first thing when hitting the locker room. Danny probably would have noticed what was happening if he'd seen Mike getting his iPhone out to film him. It's like finally finding a toilet after holding it in for several minutes, like doing something illegal and still be found innocent after weeks of living in fear. It can also be compared to relief, be it sexual or otherwise,

that first gulp of water after an exhausted, workout could bring anyone to close their eyes and just dive into the blissful moment. In other words, that is exactly what Danny did, just as he brought the bottle to his mouth. He closed his eyes and let it pour its contents into his thirsty cavity. He didn't see it. He just vaguely heard mild gasps around him, but he would never have thought they had anything to do with him, until... until he felt it moving on his tongue. Danny opened his eyes.

He just saw the legs of something black and fairy advancing into his mouth, maximized through the bottled water. He threw the bottle against the wall in front of him and fell to his knees with both hands around his neck. Some boys were laughing. Others were yelling. Danny placed an elbow on the floor and forced himself to cough up the contents he just swallowed. The vermin wasn't so.

swallowed yet, but he was definitely struggling towards his insides. Danny was so desperate to get that disgusting, fuzzy movement out of him that he yanked his right hand in his mouth and grabbed the being by a leg with a help of two fingers. The spider was thrown on the floor, for everyone to see and be disgusted by. It was huge, and scared too. But before it could find shelter under a bench, Her merciless sneaker forced it to meet its maker. Danny was still coughing. Mike and Wayne were still filming. Danny's ears went deaf with rage.

He was so angry. He imagined a massacre happening right then and there. Everybody who was making a big circle around him deserved to die a painful, bloody damp. He imagined the walls painted red in the blood of those laughing at him, and yet the person who, he thought, deserved the most torture wasn't even there. Who's that?

Danny was startled. Chloe's big, dark eyes were studying him expectantly. He didn't even notice her there, standing at the end of the bridge at a time of day he would normally never leave school. His mind had gone completely blank after sports. Danny never skipped class, ever. He was turning into a badly behaved boy, and he knew it.

His parents were going to get another call from Mr. Swatson that evening, and he dreaded almost as much as he dreaded encountering Marvin. You're upset. Of course he was upset. Danny wanted to call her stupid, just to feel the comfort of knowing that there were people out there who were weaker than him. But Danny wasn't a bully, and no matter how stupid Chloe was, she was willing to be a friend right when he needed one most. Danny felt the incoming waterworks, and to his own surprise, He walked angrily to the bridge's margin and sat down on the wood, his feet dangling above the water's mirror.

Chloe joined him. For someone as stupid as he thought her to be, she sure had a feel for upset people. She just sat there saying nothing, waiting for a friend to speak first, and he spoke all right. I hate them. Who?

The bullies. I hate them all. Every bully. that ever was and ever will be. They suck and they deserve to die. Danny was so angry. His eyes watered. As he tried wiping the annoying salty water out of the way,

a gentle hand stroked his back. Let it out, friend. And just as Danny wanted to bark at her that he's not her friend and that he's fine, he let go. He cried and cried and cried. And cried. her everything there was to tell about the day he'd had. She did nothing of the things he thought she'd do and said nothing of the things he thought she'd say. She didn't interfere by saying

that karma was going to get back to the horrible people he had to deal with. She didn't reassuring that, no, he wasn't worthless or a chicken and that, no, he was wrong. Things were going to get better and that people always change for the better as a result of growing up. She did nothing of what a friend was supposed to do, to make a befriended feel. better. All she did was bow her head towards the water, listening to Danny cry and rant about his bullies. After he let all the poison out, Danny was under the mild impression that Chloe wasn't listening to him at all. That made him want to get up and run to his house, where he was most sheltered and could cry to the dearest friend he had, himself. But just as he made the slightest move

towards standing up, Chloe grabbed his arm with the force of ten men and turned her dark-haired head to meet his eyes. Danny froze. It was a lovely spring day, but he couldn't remember ever feeling this cold. Compared to Chloe's frozen stare, being flushed down the toilet at school seemed like nothing. Do you want me to interfere? She sounded old and angered. Danny was puzzled. For someone who didn't know what alternative or exception meant, interfere was a pretty big word. Interfere how?

Should I erase everything he ever did to you? That's when Danny came back to his senses. I think I should go home. Chloe didn't even flinch. Mom's waiting for me. That part she heard. Oh, right, and let him go. Danny got up and swiped his right hand over the backside of his jeans a couple of times.

He expressed a half-hearted goodbye to Clory, and just as he turned around and took a couple of steps. Danny? What? I don't care what others think of you. I'll always be on your side, no matter what happens. Time stopped for Danny right then and then. He stared Chloe right in the face, considering her as stupid as ever. Even so, he decided he liked her, be it as platonic as humanly possible.

Thanks, Chloe. She smiled, and pure happiness was radiating off of her. Sure, what a friend's for? Part six, but she's a friend. Danny's nose met with his own locker door with her heart. Douce. What was that, Collins? Danny was shaking in fear for his very life as he grabbed his bleeding nose.

He was on his knees, looking up at Marvin and his three bodyguards. What do you mean? He never read crime and punishment by that Russian bastard. I need that book report in two hours. You never told me about... Slam. Danny was on the floor, covering his face with his hands, afraid of the next impact.

Oh, that's why you don't have my book report ready, because I never told you about it. King Marvin kicked Danny in the leg. I don't have to tell you shit, coins. Make it by tomorrow, it better not be copied off the web. It was either Wayne or Mike who kicked Danny in the leg next. This deduction was made by the stronger level of pain he felt. Danny walked with a limp home, and Chloe noticed. What happened?

I don't want to talk about it. Even so, he got comfortable on the bridge, with his feet dangling over the water again. Looks like you do, though. Danny sighed. I need to read crime and punishment by tomorrow. Ugh. Chloe sat down next to him. Grandma has that one.

Her library's huge. I can lend it to you, but you can't finish it by tomorrow. It's this big. Chloe showed a thickness of three in. inches with the help of her thumb and index finger. All Danny understood was that he was going to die in less than 24 hours. Can you just pretend to be sick and stay home? That actually sounded like a very good idea. Danny couldn't believe he'd ever thought the girl was stupid. I can try. Funny this option didn't even hit me. Well, please stay home tomorrow. I'm not in the mood to hear your

name while grandma's working her spin. Chloe clasped her hand over her mouth. What? I mean, just stay home, okay? And so, he did. Part seven. A friend full of surprises. Next morning, Danny got up an hour earlier than he should have and turned the heating system in his room on blast.

Right before his mother was supposed to wake up, He let the thermometer rest on the bottom of the bathroom sink, as he washed his hands and face with water so hot, he thought his skin would peel off. He couldn't help but chuckle. Whether he'd stay home or go to school to meet Marvin, some mean God had something against him, keeping his skin attached to the rest of him.

Mother's alarm clock rang loudly for the other side of the wall by his bed, letting Danny know it was time to hide the evidence. He got a mouth full of hot water, placed a thermometer between his lips, turned the radiator off and snuck into bed without wiping the water beads of his forehead. His mother didn't notice the heat in Danny's room. He was a good kid and he really got sick, so she never even suspected that the sweat on his brow, the steaming face and the outrageous numbers shown by the Quicksilver was just a bunch of bull. She or Dad wanted to stay home, but Danny swore he would be all right.

Going to school was out of the question. that Danny was going to be just fine. Being alone at home can be exciting for a 13, going on 14-year-old. For the first three hours, that is. TV was no fun, so, rebellious as he felt. Danny got dressed and went for a walk right where he knew he'd find her. Hey! Chloe turned her head to see her friend approaching.

She smiled and started dangling her feet above the water, reminding Danny of a dog who's happy their master's home. "'You're late.' "'What do you mean I'm late? "'It's not even 12 a.m. yet. "'You're late for someone who fake being sick to stay home. "'I'm—excuse you. "'I fake being sick to stay alive.'

"'Cloy chuckled and patted the wooden boards to her right. "'Danny took her invitation and sat down next to her. "'How come I see you every day now? "'I've been coming here for years, and I've never seen you before.' She hesitated. Well, now that I have a friend, I have more reasons to come play outside. You don't like playing alone? Oh, no, I do, but I've always wanted a friend.

Danny shot her an incredulous stare. Wait a minute. You mean to tell me he's been coming outside more for me? Chloe blushed furiously. No, of course not. I've never had much reason to come outside before. The little girl turned around to look at her old, creepy-looking house. Mum and grandma say, I'm very important.

Danny had to bite his tongue to suppress a sarcastic chuckle. I know that sounds wrong, but they say it's important for me to stay safe. They say, well, the world's a very unsafe place. Her face had something very earnest about it, something so solemn it divulged both pride and pain. Danny had no idea how to react to it They told me If anything was to ever happen to one of us three Chloe turned her gaze from her house

To her only friend And Danny was close to screaming Chloe's eyes turned from dark brown to Sparkling white That the world would end No Her eyes were as brown as they always were The sun was only playing trick

Chloe sounded sad and Danny didn't like it. He grabbed her hand, pulling her out of her days, and spoke as convincingly as a 13-year-old victim of school bullying could. You're just a kid? Chloe blinked twice in surprise. Sure, if something will... Sure, if something will ever happen to me, I'm sure my parents' world would end,

but that's no reason not to come outside at all. Yeah, the world is messed up, but it's all so beautiful. You just have to find the courage to learn its ways. You can't just live cooped up in an old home. Want to see it? No impact at all. He had had one chance at delivering a life-changing speech, and he blew it. Chloe was back to her cheerful, childish, dumb, brown-eyed self again.

Danny sighed. See what? My house? Yeah. I don't think that. to be such a good idea. Oh, come on, you worry, walt. Mum and Grandma are in the backyard picking cotton.

I can show you around for a bit until they come back. Danny wanted to excuse himself and go home, where he was expected to be lying in bed and resting. His head was already on its way to his house, but his heart, alongside his physical self, was following Chloe inside the creepy house on Boone Street. Few feelings are more powerful than fear. curiosity is one of them.

Welcome to my humble boat, Chloe chimed. I heard that one in a movie. Come on. The girl ran towards the other end of the hallway. Danny wanted to take his shoes off first, but Chloe tugged impatiently at him. Hurry, we need to hurry. Danny followed her to something that looked like it had once been in an enormous ballroom.

Even though massive blackout curtains were covering every inch of wind, window possible. The room was very well lit. Four chandeliers were hanging low above the ballroom. They were all powered by candles, not electricity. To the right of the room were two doors, and to the left a couch and an enormous flat-screen TV. Far ahead were two staircases leading to the first floor and beyond. The massive double door that stood tall and proud between the staircases was open just a creek, further tickling Danny's curiosity. The floor was coated in a very expensive looking gold and crimson-colored rug, and Danny couldn't tell if the walls were painted or covered in wallpaper. Despite its scary shell and intimidating size, Chloe's home was very clean and very sophisticated looking.

However, it wore neither a welcoming hue nor a homie vibe. It was certainly big enough for a kid or five to play indoors, but definitely not suited for a child as cheerful as Chloe. The creepy house on Boone Street was big, strong, and ready to crush uninvited guests. That's the library, Chloe said, pointing to the open double door. Her next words guided her finger to the two identical doors on the right. That's the kitchen, and that's the pantry. The girl chuckled as she started walking towards one of the staircases. Danny followed.

The kitchen and the pantry are almost identical, Mom and Granny think some things from the pantry belong in the kitchen, and that every pantry needs a table and chairs. I pictured it yet. Danny let out a short laugh. I'd love to show them to you, but I don't think we have enough time. I'm not allowed to bring friends over. Not allowed to bring friends over, nor is she actually allowed to leave the house. No wonder she's so clingy, Danny thought.

Say, Chloe, do you have any brothers or sisters? No. The two of them reached the first floor of the house. Mum had to give birth to one daughter. Her mom, my granny, had to do the same. And her mom and her mom before that, and the mum before that, and so on. Danny was confused. And what if one of you was born a boy? Not possible. Chloe turned to look at him. Oh, I'm not allowed to tell you these things. Danny was genuinely intrigued. Neither are you allowed to have me over, but you're still doing it, aren't you?

Poor Chloe looked puzzled. I won't tell anyone, Chloe. Danny was about to deliver the punchline, and, even though he meant it, it had an insincere undertone. I'm your friend. The girl sighed. I'd love to tell you about it, but I'm really not allowed to. Why did your eyes get so weird before?

Chloe's posture went rigid. I've no idea what you're talking about. Yes, you do. A couple of seconds passed by without any of the two moving. Let's... Danny was all he is. Let's just keep going, okay? She sounded like she was beginning to regret letting Danny into her house.

Chloe advanced on the dark hallway that stretched out in the depths of her. the first floor. I'm sorry, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to. No, you're right. Danny counted three on open door, she passed by, when she turned around furiously, grabbed him by the arm and led him out of the hallway

and back to the staircase. Are you angry with me? Should I go home? No. Surprisingly, when reaching the staircase, they did not descend it, as Danny might have have expected. Chloe instead had Danny follow her to the second floor, where one old yet very well Kempt door stood before them. This is where my mother, grandmother and I work. Danny snapped his

head in her direction. Did she say, I? How is it possible for a 12 or 13 year old girl to be put to work by her mother and grandmother? Before he had the chance to mention child protection services, Chloe inhaled deeply and opened the door. The attic was also well lit, this time, however, by pure daylight. The dust particles that swam through the air looked like glitter, and even though they were plenty,

the room was very clean. Danny tried to comprehend what he was looking at. The wooden contraption seemed to be ancient, yet very steady and complex. The longer he stared at it, the more detail he was able to distinguish. Whatever it was, it was a beautiful tool and the glitter swaying all around it

made it look like the cover of a fairy tale. That day was not a particularly sunny one, but the room was so bright. Danny couldn't help but look for the source. And there it was. At the far end of the wooden machine, spreading light all across the room with the biggest silver scissors

Danny had ever seen. This spinning wheel has been in my family for generations. A spinning wheel, Danny thought, looked more like an intricate weaving loom. Always has to be three of us. The boy listened, enchanted. Clotho, the young, Lachesis the mother,

and Atropos, the mother's mother. Chloe wasn't looking in Danny's direction. Even so, he recognised a hint of that earth, from before, and, because of that, he withheld from asking about her father. In my family, every death must be accompanied by a birth at the same precise moment. Her voice was melancholic as she reached out her hand to stroke the wood of the spinning wheel. It's the duty of every clothel to give birth to the next one, as it is the duty of every atropos to die and make room for the next one. A knife-sharp smile crept at the next one. A knife-sharp smile crept at

the edges of her mouth, as she turned her head to look at her friend. But, that's okay. Sooner or later, each and every one of us will get her chance at using the scissors. That's when Danny knew it was no longer okay for them to be friends. Ice-cold fingers grabbed him by the collar from behind and tossed him towards the stairs. Had his reflexes been any slower, he would have fallen to his most probable death. Strangling, how dare you enter the attic of the Moirai uninvited. Danny grabbed onto the handrail for dear life.

The old woman in front of him was yielding garden scissors in both hands, and boy, did she look pissed. It was me, Granny. I invited him. But Granny didn't hear anything. She threw one pair of scissors at Danny with the force of a cannon. Danny ducked at the very last. moment, and the scissors broke through the handrail and five balusters. Run, Danny, run!

Danny sped down the stairs with the crazy old lady right behind him. Wait until I get my hands on you, you filthy little pig. Just as Chloe's grandmother was about to throw the second pair of scissors to the boy's doom, another hand grabbed Danny. He was forced to stop and hide behind the silhouette of another woman. This one was fairly younger. "'Calm down, mother. It's a friend of Clothos.' The old woman stopped.

"'Oh!' and turned to look upwards at her grandchild, who was crying rivers at the top of the stairs. "'Did you want to show in the attic, Clotho?' Chloe throws. She stared at the two older women with nothing but fear in her eyes. She shivered and wept, but didn't say anything in Danny's defence. "'Of course she didn't, Mother. She might be stupid, but not that stupid.' Danny suddenly felt the urge to punch the woman who was shielding him from the scissor-throwing monster. Look at him, just as shameless and despicable as all the other representatives of his gender.

He must have run around the house as soon as Clothol led him in. Chloe's head sunk in shame. Danny couldn't believe that his friend wouldn't back him up in front of her family, especially since nothing was actually his fault. Look at me, my daughter. The girl looked at her mother. She looked so devastated. Danny pitied her more than himself for a second

and expected her mother to comfort her, seeing the mesh she was. When I explained to you that you will need to make a male friend in the future, I surely didn't mean someone this week, and most certainly wasn't talking about now. More waterworks from upstairs, but she started descending slowly.

Granny gruesome stepped aside, letting Chloe get to her mother. Escort your friend outside and bid your farewells. But Danny didn't wait that long. He turned around and went down the stairs, not giving Chloe the chance to catch up with him. He opened the door and stepped out of the house, not even turning to say goodbye to his former friend.

Danny, wait. But he didn't want. wait. He just kept on walking, angry as he was. I'm sorry, but we're still friends, I promise, I'm still on your side. But Danny would hear none of it. He was too much inside his own head to actually take note of his way home, and it was the police car in his driveway that broke the days. A synonym for excrements escape between Danny's pressed lips. When Danny stepped into his house, his mother was crying on the living room sofa next to a cop. while his father was making an erratic phone call.

Where the hell were you? All three adults rushed to Danny, as if they wanted to tackle him. What are you guys doing home this early? The surprise in his voice simply slipped out. I called to see if you're okay, his mum yelled. He was so sick this morning. I got worried when I saw you wouldn't pick up. Danny was close to hitting himself for being so stupid.

his mother instantly placed her hands on his face the fever's gone but how Danny was grabbed for the third time that day Daniel what the hell did you do the boy was tired too tired to come up with a believable lie a fake being sick to stay home today you did what

why even so he wasn't tired enough to look a pussy in front of his father. Because I felt like it. The adults were stunned. Where in the hell were you? It didn't look like his mother would let it go, and he really didn't have a reason to lie to her.

Answer me, Daniel. I made friends with a girl who lives at 17 Boona Street. Boona Street? 17? You mean the Manson Manor? Danny nodded and walked past his parents, heading to his room. Daniel, you are never to visit that place again.

Do you understand me? Don't worry about it, Mom. He looked back at his mother with sad eyes. We're not friends anymore. The cop stood up, saying, Looks like you won't be needing me anymore, Mr. and Mrs. Collins, just as Danny closed the door behind him.

He couldn't hear him as clearly as before, but the cop's next words got to him loud and clear. Keep Danny away from the people of that old house. That places all sorts of bad news. Part 8. And so loyal. Mr. Swatson almost crushed the piece of chalk between his fingers, when he again turned his

back to the blackboard to see that damn hand in the air. Danny, break time wasn't even five minutes ago. I'm sorry, sir, but I really need to go. His classmates all knew why Danny was doing this, but they didn't deem it necessary to share their knowledge with the teachers. I'm sorry, Danny, but I can't keep letting you do this. Danny's eyes went wide. All teachers but Mr. Swatson forbade him from going to the loo during class.

He was his very last hope, and he really needed to go, so the urgency was twice as bad. Please, sir, it's really urgent. The teacher looked at him over the frames of his glasses. It's for the last time, Daniel. Do I make myself understood? Yes, sir. Mr. Swatson did nothing more.

He motioned towards the door with his head, dismissing Danny to go to the bathroom. The boy was ashamed. He got out of the classroom and rushed to the men's toilet, thinking of strategies to avoid nature's calling during school altogether. Danny had just decided that he'd stopped drinking. anything before and during school, starting with the next day. When he opened the bathroom door and froze in its frame.

Jimmy was bent over a sink, his shoulder-length blonde hair covering the size of his face. Even so, his blue gaze shot daggers at Danny in the mirror's reflection. Danny was just about to slam the door shut and run for his dear life when the upper classman spoke. It's all right, little man. He looked sick. The sink he was leaning against was full of his sickness too. He's not here. Go do your business.

If it weren't for his throbbing bladder, Danny would have fled anyway. He had no idea what Jimmy was doing or why he was in the toilet during class to begin with, but the boy did not look good at all. Last time he encountered friends of Marvin's, they were there to harm him. But there's no way Jimmy could have anticipated him being there precisely that time of day. No time to think. Time to pee. Danny ran to the very first stall, as he emptied the pressure in a bowl he once got all close and personal with. Jimmy gagged at the sinks, making Danny interrupt his thoughts for a second, but it's only when he heard someone else come

in that his thoughts and flow of pee stopped altogether. There you are. I've been looking all over for you. Danny wanted to hit the wall in frustration. He whispered the synonym for excrements instead. He was getting pretty good at that. Marvin's boots were furiously speeding in Jimmy's direction. Oh, come on, Marv, please. And just as Danny expected a punch or some other violent image-inducing sound, he heard a wet suction noise, then another one, and another one. And another one. Danny's mouth fell again He felt the need to touch the wall in front of him for balance Marv

Stop Why You said you like it And another one I do, it's just Jimmy was desperately thinking of excuses Danny was sure of it I just puked

I think it was a soda I'm not feeling too well I can make you feel better come here. Another wet suction sound. This one lasted longer than the others. Oh, Marve, please stop it. I'm really not in the mood.

Marvin chuckled. But it wasn't a mean chuckle, like the ones he gave Danny when he was begging for mercy. It was loving and understanding. It's okay, babe. I'll wait for whenever you're ready. Steps were heard, followed by a mild tug on the other side.

of the wall to Danny's left. It was clear as day. Marvin cornered Jimmy against the wall. But that won't stop me from doing it to you. Danny heard Jimmy gasp in panic, as sounds of zippers and wrinkling fabric filled the toilet. Marvin, don't. Be quiet. He'll feel good, really good. I said no. Why not, dammit? Why not? You said, you want this? You said you want me just as much as I want you. Marvin hit the wall above Jimmy's heads. Danny flinched violently. I need this. Don't you get it? I need it so bad. It's driving me insane. You're driving me insane. More wrinkling fabric and wet kissing sounds. Danny wished he were deaf. This was bad. This was very, very bad.

He was not supposed to hear this conversation. It's not that I don't want you, it's just... What? What is it, babe? You know you can talk to me. Daddy closed his eyes in defeat. He knew what Jimmy was about to say. He couldn't blame the guy.

If he'd have been in Jimmy's situation, he too would have given that excuse to save himself from being violated by a person he's afraid of. We're not alone. There's someone in the store behind me. Danny was out of the toilet before Jimmy even had the chance to finish his sentence. He ran and ran and ran, ignoring all the shouting happening behind him. He ran across the hall, passed the security guard's office and continued running until he was at the bridge.

The shouting never ceased. You're dead, Collins. You're freaking dead. I'll kill you and skull. Fuck you after I'm done. Danny ran home He ran so fast And was so blind to the world He was passing by

That he didn't even notice The black-haired girl In her white robe at the window The spooky house on Boona Street She was crying But Danny wouldn't have been able to see that Even if he did look up Good thing the house keys were in his back pocket

After letting himself in Danny went straight to the bathroom To do what Jimmy did Not even 30 minutes prior. He didn't puke out of disgust. He puked out of fear. His entire body was shaking. He'll transfer schools, yeah. Yeah, a school transfer. That's it. His parents would understand. Brushing his teeth and pacing around his room didn't help, neither with the icky taste in his mouth, nor the weight of the information he'd received against his well. He waited for the computer to start up and seriously

considered looking for his mother's calming pills in his parents' bathroom. Browsing through everything which was needed for a school transfer, Danny took out a notepad to take notes. He needed to be very prepared when his parents would get home, but little did he know. He'd never get the chance to put those notes to good use. The house phone rang. It sound cut like burning iron through butter in the dead quiet of the house. Danny let it ring because technically nobody was supposed to be home and the phone eventually stopped ringing not even five silent seconds passed

and the phone rang again it rang with a fury only tired middle-class workers get to know due to their early morning alarm clocks when the phone rang the third time Danny knew it was for him he rushed to it inhaled deeply and prayed to God it wasn't one of his parents Hello?

Daniel Brady Collins. What in the world did you get yourself into? Oh, great. Danny seriously regretted not having the notes with him. Mom, I can explain. What the hell is this I'm hearing? You excuse yourself to go to the bathroom in the middle of class and left school? Mr. Swaston told me you've been acting strange all semester,

but I never would have thought that of my son. "'Mom, it's not what you think.' "'Oh, really? "'Then mind telling me how the hell your grades are declining suddenly "'when just last year you were in the top three of your class? "'Why do you excuse yourself to go to the bathroom during class "'every chance you get? "'I swear to God, Danny, I hope it's cigarettes.

"'Mom! "'I hope it's cigarettes because if I find out you're taking drugs, son. "'God help me out. "'Mom! I'm being bullied. Mother did not expect that one. You are? Since when?

Why didn't you tell me? I can't just tell my parents I'm being bullied. Hello? I'm 13, going on 14. I have to start fighting my own battles. Fighting your own battles imply you running away from school during class? Ouch. I can't go to the bathroom during breaks because he always catches me there, mom.

today, conned me in the toilet during class. That's why I ran away from school. It was either silence of relief or loss of words. No bully can be that bad. Mom, I prefer peeing my pants in class than risk meeting him in the bathroom. Trust me, he is that bad. She was still angry with him, of course, but it was clear as day that his mom was happy with the explanation. Even so, her anger was overpowering every other feeling she had.

I want to transfer. Don't be silly, Danny. It's probably just a phase. This phase is making me fail all my classes. Do you want that? Mom let out a sound of surrender. I'll talk about it when your dad and I get home tonight. Okay, honey.

Danny smiled victoriously, but little did he know. His victory would be very short-lived. He didn't leave your things at school, did you? Danny was just about to tell her that it's fine, that his belongings are safe in his locker, but then he remembered. Oh, crap, the door to my locker is busted. He wished he hadn't said that out loud.

What? You need to get your butt back to school and get your things, young man. All colour fled from his face. Mom, I can't. Didn't you just hear what I said? I did. We'll talk about it all tonight. But right now, I really need you to be brave and go back to school and get your things. But, Mom, class just ended. School's out for the day. Very few people know that the lock of my door is busted.

I can go get them. No buts. You're going now, and that's final. Your dad and I are not getting you a new iPhone. phone and Nintendo just because of some bully. She had a point. Danny always took his favorite pieces of technology to school with him, and he's not about to give them up for the likes of Marvin.

Class is over for the day, baby. He won't be there. But Danny knew better. He hoped, from the very depths of his being, that she was right, and hung on to that hope all the way back to school. But he knew better, regardless. Part 9 She's your friend

But everyone else's enemy The fear that was curling up in Danny's chest Made him believe that the entire world Was plotting against him The sky was getting dark And when he got to the pathway by the creepy house The wild roses were stretching through the gaps Between the fences iron bars

More daring than ever before The lake's water was getting darker Its mirror not as reflective as it should have been not to mention that the bad weather light made the bridge seem quite unstable. To sum it up, it was turning out to be a really shitty day. The schoolyard came into sight. It was deserted. Danny could only see the janitor up on the second floor of the school building, running his typical errands.

The wind blew mercilessly, and Danny's heart was beating inside his chest like a wild animal stuck in a cage. He was hurrying to the entrance, gliding along walls and trying to make himself as unnoticeable as possible. He wanted to believe that once he was inside the school, he was home free. There's no way Marvin and his bullies would wait inside the school for him, risking getting caught by the janitor or a security guard. The building was almost empty, so Danny's screams would echo everywhere. Danny opened the gate.

The security officer was nowhere to be. be seen. He took a couple of steps and exhaled in a vague attempt at silencing his paranoia. His paranoia, however, was there for a reason. Damn it, kid. I thought you knew better than to come back. Danny turned around just in time to see Mike placing his iPhone back in the pocket of his jeans. The broad-shouldered boy opened the gate and gestured for Danny to follow him inside. He has your stuff. Follow him. He has your stuff. follow me. Danny backed up a few steps. Mike stared at him, surprised by his defensiveness. Dude, I'm not asking you to follow me. I'm telling you to. Don't be stupid. It'll hurt less if you do what you're told.

The poor, 13, going on 14-year-old boy felt unwanted tears swell up in his eyes, as his knees got uncertain of the balance they were supposed to keep. I got no idea what you did to piss him off so badly. I didn't do anything. I don't know about that, but I do know it'll get worse if you don't follow me. Danny swallowed, even though his mouth and throat were as dry as Saudi Arabia. Where is he? By the oak tree. This wasn't bad.

This was far worse than bad. You coming? Do I have to try. drag you. Danny followed Mike outside and behind the building, where the oak tree was. Every student who smoked, every student who wanted to make out, every student who had something secretive to do or something secretive to show and wanted little to no risk of getting caught would go to the oak tree behind the building. The tree's crown was massive and heavy. The umbrella its crown created throughout the years originated one of the most loved

mottoes among the students. Anything that goes down at the oak tree stays at the oak tree. And no other truth was weighing heavier on Danny's shoulders at that point. The security guard was too far away to hear his screams, should there be any, and the janitor wouldn't be able to see anything due to the oak's leafy brouches, even if he were to open the windows. Danny wished he would have valued his life more than he valued his iPhone and Nintendo half an hour ago. Marvin's orange jacket

with the blue zipper leaning against the tree trunk was the brightest thing in the picture of an upcoming storm. He looked the angriest Danny had ever seen him, judging by the huge grin Psycho Wayne had plastered on his face.

Danny knew this was going to be the worst day of his life. Jimmy was there too, but he, on the other hand, was looking down at his boots. He couldn't face the boy whose fate would be on his conscience forever.

Mike pushed Danny forward, and it's only when the boy entered the dome created by the Oaks umbrella, that he noticed all his belongings scattered across the damp soil. Danny delivered a shaky icebreaker. Can I... Can I have them back, please?

Mike and Wayne laughed like antagonists would. Marvin watched Danny with so much hatred. His blood froze in his veins. "'Sure, Collins.' "'Marvin approached Danny's stuff with two slow steps. "'Right after I'm finished.' "'He unzipped his pants, "'looking exactly like he was about to do the thing,

"'Danny dreaded most. "'No!' "'Danny wanted to tackle him, "'but Mike grabbed him by the arms "'and forced him to stay put and watch. "'Don't. Please, no. "'I'm begging you.' Jimmy looked away, shaking almost as badly as Danny was, and Wayne was laughing like a madman.

But Marvin, Marvin's face was serene. He had no expression whatsoever as he took out his manhood and relieved himself all over Danny's things. Danny started to cry, and Wayne suddenly didn't find the situation as funny anymore. Mike even loosened his grip on Danny's arms, making the boy fall to his knees on the moist ground. Dude, maybe we should stop. Shut up. Danny was so humiliated.

He would have been fine with dying right there and then. Even so, more than sad, scared and humiliated. He felt rage. Danny looked at his worst nightmare, teary-eyed and knew that what he was about to say would either be his salvation or bring his due. Please, I won't tell anybody, I swear. Jimmy turned his head violently in Danny's direction, eyes wild and mouth agape. Danny had just opened Pandora's box.

It was all over the pretty blonde boy's face. I can Wayne look puzzled. What won't he tell Mara? It was Mike who asked the question. Yeah, Marv, what's up? Wayne cried. Marvin's face lost its composure, and Danny knew the boy that just took a massive piss on his belongings, was not afraid of facing Juvie, jail, or any other type of consequence, to make him hurt for what he just outed. Marvin was by him in mere seconds and hit him over the head so hard it felt

more like a horse's hoof than a human foot. Danny fell to the ground and spat out a tooth. Most people would have surrendered and begged for their lives at this point. But Danny, Danny had already played his last card. Danny already had his most expensive possessions pissed on by this human garbage, and him begging further would only make the situation more pathetic and laughable. His rage outgrew the fear within him, and, what? was worse, it outgrew his survival instinct.

Pick him up, Mike. Marve, don't you think it's enough? Mike asked, even though he did as he was told. He picked Danny up by the pits of his arms and forced him to his knees again. It's enough when I say it is. Marvin fumbled with his zipper again. Open his mouth. I didn't finish unloading yet. This is the part where Jimmy looked. genuinely panicked.

He and Wayne started making desperate arm gestures to Danny behind Marvin's back, urging him to get up and run. But Danny couldn't see them. He saw nothing but Marvin's crotch and his sick smile somewhere above the parted orange folds and the blue zipper of his oversized jacket. With nothing more to lose, Danny went all in. You know Marvin, I don't have anything against gay guys. actually I'm sure most of them are very nice people

but you my friend you're not a gay guy you're a faggot Jimmy Mike and Wayne held their breaths Marvin stared Daniel down his hand unconsciously closing the zipper of his pants

nobody dared to move nobody dared to speak and in that precise moment the world stopped, just long enough for Daniel's survival instinct to kick in again. His brains get up and run, command didn't even reach his spine when Mike grabbed him, rose him upright and tossed him outside of the Oak's protective circle. Run, kid, run as fast as you can. He didn't have to yell it out twice.

Danny ran for his life. He ran to his full capacity and beyond. Marvin's thundering gallops right on his tail. This time the bully didn't bother with verbal threats like earlier. He was chasing Danny with the clear intention of physically hurting him, and by the sounds of his exasperated, in closing exhales, he was about to hurt him very, very badly. Danny passed his track record long before he saw the bridge before him.

Even so, Marvin's hard breaths were so close behind him, he could almost feel the warmth of him at the back of his neck. It was when they got to the bridge that Danny knew he was doomed. The sky was deep grey and darkening and the lake water was black as tar. If that wasn't enough of a bad omen, his loud and frightened feet

knocking against the bridge's wooden boards were slowly but surely overpowered by a pair of incoming, trampling boots. No sooner did they reach the pathway semi-occupied by the dark wild roses, then Danny felt cold, hungry fingers be trying to grab him by the back of his shirt. He tripped. How? Nobody knows. He either slipped, or the feel of Marvin made him lose his balance, but he definitely tripped and had his bully surf on his chest for at least seven feet until they stopped. Danny was about to try the apology card again, but he couldn't let out one word.

At first, he incredulously looked up at his bully while trying to tell him that his knees are making the soaracts implode and that he can't breathe, but Marvin's knees were not on his chest at all. Marvin's knees were at his sides, and the reason why Danny felt choking was because the bully's hands were wrapped around his neck, and they were squeezing hard. Danny led out an indiscernible gag.

He tried clinging to Marvin's arms, tried clawing at his face. But Marvin's face was the frozen picture of one intention and one intention only. Murder. He didn't give up cloring at everything he could get his fingers on, even though he felt his head getting dizzy and his vision getting cloudy. Marvin was pressing and squeezing, mere seconds before passing out,

Danny gathered all of his strength, not to defend himself, but to point at something, Marvin was too out of it to even notice what was going on around him, but he did notice the change in his victim's demeanour. It changed from fright to confusion. What the hell was he pointing at anyway? Daniel was pointing at Marvin's heart. Or so it seemed. Marvin looked down.

He didn't notice it at first, but after he blinked once or twice, it dawned on him. His beloved orange jacket with a blue zipper had been completely cut off from the chest down. Marvin immediately let go of Danny's throat, the absence of over half of his jacket being the new focus of his attention. Danny coughed and inhaled greedily, as Marvin looked, bewildered, around himself, to see why and how and who could have done such a gruesome thing to his most beloved piece of clothing. He turned to look behind himself, and that's when he saw the long, thin, orange thread that connected the remains of his jacket to a small, glowing figure at the furthest side of the bridge. Marvin felt scared for the first time that evening. Danny had gotten enough oxygen

in his brain to lift his torso up on his elbows and look in the direction in which Marvin was staring. His blood ran cold. The bridge was dark, and so was the sky. The only things illuminating the scene were a small figure wearing a white garment at the other end of the bridge, the neon glowing orange thread that connected Marvin's jacket to the figure's fist, and those sparkling white eyes Danny knew not to mess with. What the! Chloe had one hand tangled up, and up in the thread of Marvin's jackets, and the other behind her back. Danny's heart began to race again, and for the first time in the last week, it was not for his own sake. No, Chloe, don't. But Clotho would hear none of it. Her decision was made. She revealed her grandmother's

scissors from behind her back, their massive silver glowing as strong as her eyes were. Marvin was starstruck. He rubbed his eyes, convinced he was dreaming. Poor boy didn't even get the chance to see Clotho snap the scissors shut on his bright orange yarn. Time stopped right then and there. Danny wanted to move, but he couldn't. All he could do was helplessly watch as the wild roses came to life. The bud sniffed the air as if they were hungry feline smelling blood.

Some roses slithered on the path like snakes. Others opened their buds up like famished sharks, ready to chow down on their prey. First, there were the questions. The, what the fucks? And what is this? And what are you doing? Then there was a struggling. Then the ordering around, followed by the refusal. This isn't happening. Get off of me. This isn't happening. The boy was screaming bloody murder by the time one rose ate his right eye

and three others sucked at his fingers. A rather bloomed rose, entwined its stem around Marvin's neck, digging its thorns into his flesh. The same rose started chewing at the bully's ear, sucking on it like it found something yummy inside his head. Numerous other roses bit at his stomach, his legs, his back, chest and every other piece of flesh they could find. The plants were hungry, and they were loud, too.

Danny couldn't tell who was louder. The roses, who sounded like tigers, tearing up a gazelle, or Marvin, who sounded like one hundred piglets up for slaughter. The roses dragged Marvin up to the fence. Since the chunk of flesh that remained of the boy was still too big to fit through the gaps between the fences iron bars, the roses resumed their feast outside. the fence, for Danny to see clearly. Danny could not believe his eyes.

The roses were munching and chewing as if they were predators from the very top of the food chain. Danny remembered. His former friend was supposed to be at the other end of the bridge. So he looked at her just in time to see her derange grandmother come running out of the house. He stood motionless in the middle of the pathway, sheltered by the shadows, and too far away to be seen by the old woman. The last thing Danny saw before snapping out of his days and running home was Chloe's white robe dancing in the wind of the upcoming storm, and her crying diamond dies.

By the time the mother and grandmother got out of the house to confiscate the scissors out of Chloe's hands, Danny was already halfway home. Glotho, spring off one's life. What have you done? He could still hear that last part when he closed the door to his house behind him. Danny cried under the covers until his parents came home. He expected his dad home by 7pm and his mother by 8, but he never thought they'd show up together at 5.30. He was still crying when his mom entered his room, followed by his father.

Sweetie, is everything all right? She didn't sound angry anymore. Quite the contrary, she said, sounded apologetic. She probably realized that she'd exaggerated over the phone earlier and acknowledged that teenage bullies can be very, very cruel at times. Your father and I are home, honey. You wanted to talk about this bully. Danny sat upright and wiped his eyes with the sleeves of his hoodie to see his parents better. Dad turned on the lamp and both parents sat down at Danny's sides, taking Danny's hands in their own. They watched Danny expect.

their understanding, parent faces, showing nothing but love. He, Danny sobbed. I went back to school and he hurt my things. His dad gave his mum an accusatory glance. I wanted to take them back, but he chased me and... Danny cried some more. Something terrible happened. The boy looked scared out of his mind.

I think... I think she heard him. And I think she did it for me. What? Who did? Chloe, the girl from the creepy house on Boone Street. Didn't I tell you to stop hanging around that house? His mother exploded.

Whom did she heard, Daniel? Asked his father in a calm voice. Danny inhaled deeply, trying to stop an incoming song. Marvin. Cage, he lives on Maple Street, and he and his friends have been bullying me for months. The sob broke through. Everybody knew Marvin Cage. The cages had three sons and all of them were assholes. Marvin was the worst. Everybody in the neighbourhood knew him from that one time when he tried drowning Mrs. White's cat. He was ten at the time. Danny expected a compassionate hand

on his head and a welcoming pull to cry on someone's shoulder. But these things didn't come. And when Danny wiped his eyes dry enough to make out his parents' facial expressions, he somehow knew why. His mom and dad looked at each other. Confusion ridden all over their faces. His mother spoke. I'm sorry, Danny, but who's that again? Part 10.

And you need her, you pathetic little man. Daniel found his school bag and jacket inside his locker, the following day. They were as dry as could be, and smelled as pleasant as ever. So, you're sure you didn't find them by the oak tree out back? Cleaned them up and put them in my locker? The security guard looked at him, dumbfounded, yet amused. What?

No, that's forbidden territory for us. You kids need your privacy, too, you know. I didn't touch your things or your locker. You all right today, young man. Yes, yes, sir, I'm fine. All right, run along now. Class is about to start. Class started and Danny waited all day, hoped even to see that menacing face looking for him through the classroom door window. It never came.

During the first break, Danny saw Wayne and Mike passing each other by in the main corridor. They didn't even say hi to each other. and that was very unlike them because they were always together. He also saw Jimmy during lunch, sitting at the weirdos table, chatting and smooching with the school's goth girl, Lucinda Big. During the last break of the day, Danny even gathered enough courage to approach Jimmy and Lucinda in the hall. Hey, have you heard from Marvin today? Jimmy looked confused. He threw Lucinda a look, and she shrugged. Sorry, kid. No clue who that is.

Marvin. Marvin Cage. The guy in the orange jacket you always hang out with. Lucinda let out a laugh. You're seeing someone behind my back, babe. Jimmy laughed too. If I were, best believe I wouldn't go for a dude. She hit him playfully, and they both giggled. What do you mean? You don't know. I saw you in the boy's bathroom yesterday. You were hiding from him. I saw you puking your guts out in the sink. Jimmy got wide-eyed. You saw me do what?

When did this happen exactly? Lucinda asked. During last period, sometime between 2 and 2.30 p.m. The two lovebirds exchanged a quick glance. What's your name, kid? Danny flinched. Daniel, Collins. Danny Collins.

Danny? Jimmy and I are in the same classes on Thursdays. He was with me the entire time between 2 and 2.30 p.m. yesterday. Danny began to shiver. You're all right, kid. Do you need help? Should we call somebody for you? Yeah, you don't look too good.

Is this Marvin guy a friend of yours? Jimmy and his girlfriend look genuinely worried for him. Are you sure? You don't know anybody named Marvin Cage? Yep, pretty sure. Danny felt sick to his stomach. Okay, okay. Yeah, that's okay.

Sorry, bye. He turned around and went back to class, not catching the part where Jimmy showed his girlfriend that the little man might be a loony. Right after school was over, Danny got his stuff and went home, the long way around. He looked around, hoping from the bottom of his heart to see the glimmer of the bright orange jackets somewhere behind a tree, or in the window of the bar he saw Marvin exit a couple of days before.

Danny was desperate, so desperate that he actually realized what he was doing, when Bruce Cage, Marvin's father, answered the door. Yeah? Danny saw some resemblance, all right. He looked exactly like Marvin, but with a beer. gut and facial hair. Is Marvin home? Who? Danny was so desperate for answers. He would have entered the house and searched for the bully himself. Marvin?

Your youngest son? Is he home? No idea what you're talking about, kid. Wrong house. Slam. Danny had no choice. He ran back to the shortcuts. The bridge looked fine and the pathway was as gloomy as ever.

There was a slight difference, though. It seemed that someone finally found the time to mend the wild roses that stretched outside the fence. Danny looked up at the house and saw nobody. He crouched next to the fence and started to look around for something, anything that would remind the world of the existence of someone named Marvin. But it wasn't there, and got nothing. His friends didn't know him. His family never knew him.

How, even the vandalism his stuff suffered vanished into thin air. Everything was as if Marvin never even existed. Danny got up and looked at the house again. More terrified than thankful. He turned around and walked home. That time being the very last time he took the shortcut by the creepy house on Boone Street, or from school. Life went on.

Danny had to make up some story for his parents regarding his bully, and they never pestered him about it more than necessary. In time, Danny became Daniel, and Daniel stopped thinking about both Marvin and Chloe in favour of focusing on studying and getting into a good college. As time progressed, Daniel found love. He was doing great for himself. His wife was pregnant,

with their second child, when he quit his job to both invest in a startup company and start his own business. By the time he was in his 40s, Daniel was a pretty wealthy guy and life was very good to him. However, it all started going downhill when his father died. The death in itself was no biggie. Mr. Collins was old and sick, and he wished for death long before the pain became insufferable. Daniel's wife didn't want to go to the funeral and Daniel never even suspected her reason he found out by accident not even a month after it happened

she was having an affair that's okay Daniel told both her and himself no marriage is perfect maybe he even deserved it he thought because even if he wasn't thinking about Marvin every day he learned from an early age that whatever goes around comes around.

Maybe he did something bad, and now the universe was getting its revenge on him. It was just a tumultuous period in his marriage. Nothing a couple of counselling sessions wouldn't fix. The problem is, the counselling didn't fix anything. The wife's cheating took the worst turn possible. She fell in love.

More than that, she got pregnant again and her lover convinced her to leave Daniel and start a new family with him. So Danny got a divorce, because both kids preferred their mother, they decided to go stay with her and their new daddy. Even so, Daniel still thought that, well, that's okay. His wife was just being a bully, and fate hates bullies.

She'll get what she deserves sooner or later. But his ex-wife's life just kept getting better and better. even though she was over 40 years old when she gave birth to her third child, the birth ran smoothly and the child was as healthy as could be. It was a boy. They named him Marvin. By the time his ex-wife was in her 50s, she'd travelled the world alongside her three kids and her partner.

What's worse is that Daniel's children were tagging mum's lover with the caption, Daddy, on social media. And that's okay. Daniel thought, They'll wake up eventually. Life works like that. Daniel began to drink. The startup he invested in two decades prior

went bankrupt, and his own business was doing bad too. He had to sell his spacious mansion and move into a shitty 42-foot square apartment before going into complete ruin. He had some money for a little while, but most of it needed to be invested in his children's college funds.

Otherwise, his ex-wife would have legally sucked up every little thing he still owned. Daniel had nothing left, but his daily bottle of happiness, and the reassurance that someday someone will do him justice. But that day never came. His daughter became a mother of twins, and it broke Daniel's heart

that he never got the chance to meet them. His son turned out to be a movie story, and his mother and new husband were tagged in all the photos of the events he was invited to. Daniel was never invited to any of them, and it slowly stopped being okay. His ex-wife was getting happier and happier, whilst he was getting more and more miserable. And then his mother died. Partially it was a relief, because his unemployment check stopped covering both the living expenses and his much-needed alcohol supply.

Now that his mother was gone, his parents' house was all his, so money for rent wasn't needed anymore. He went back to his roots, with the priceless three things he still owned, an Armani jacket with torn up sleeves, a tabler he stole from a cafe while its owner was in the bathroom, and a beat-up Volvo he got as a gift

from his 80-year-old neighbour out of pity. Daniel's life was as shitty as, could be, and it all came flashing back to him as soon as the shield that passed by the passenger window announced him that he had just entered his childhood hometown. Daniel cried, and cried, until his shirt was wet at the chest. His life turned to shit, and he knew it. He knew. Karma isn't always a bitch to those who deserve it, but to whomever she fancies. Apparently, Apparently, he was one of her favourites because after his dad died, Daniel took blow after blow, while his cheating wife took blessing after blessing.

Daniel shut his brain off long before seeing the bridge. It had been remade. It was wider and looked more stable than before, but Daniel was too engrossed in the task at hand to notice it. He stopped the engine of his shitty car as soon as he reached the pathway. The Wild Roses denied passage to anything broader than twenty-year. inches, but Daniel paid them no mind whatsoever. He wouldn't have been able to even say what colour they were. He entered the yard, the house getting bigger and more menacing with every step he took.

The roses got suspicious. They began to hiss and slowly follow Daniel to the main door of the house, inquiring what his business was. Daniel knocked four times. the strength of his determination reverberated in the entire house. The roses hissed louder this time, letting Daniel know that he wasn't welcome at the day would attack if he made a wrong move. But Daniel didn't care. He was here to report a bully.

Someone opened the door just slightly, and Daniel recognized a dark-colored iris, even though the skin surrounding it was wrinkled and old. It was the naive girl who used to be something of a friend to him once. She was the grandmother now which meant it was her rightful turn to yield the scissors. Daniel remembered that much from their brief yet eventful encounter. Her name wasn't Clotho anymore. No, Clotho was now the name of her granddaughter.

And speaking of her granddaughter, she had just squeezed her little blonde head by Granny's legs. to take a look at the visitor. What do you want? Her voice was just as venomous as the hissing behind him. I need your help. And why would I help you? The roses were getting louder. It was a gamble and Daniel knew it.

One inappropriate word from him and he'd become fertilizer. Because... That's what friends are for. They stared at each other for a couple of seconds. Daniel didn't even flinch and neither did Atropos. She looked him deep in the eye and read every single sorrow that weighed him down. A desperate man stood before her. Atropos smiled.

She would never have admitted it, but she was very happy to see him after all those years. The grandmother stepped aside and, for the first time in the history of the creepy house on Boone Street, the front door was wide open for a welcome guest. Come in, Danny. Come in and tell me all about it. 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 favour of you. Wherever you get your podcast wrong, please write a few nice words and leave a five-star review as it really helps the podcast. That's it for this week, but I'll be back again same time, same place, and I do so hope you'll join me once more. Until next time, sweet dreams and bye-bye.