Just Creepy: Scary Stories - 3 Scary Cryptid Encounter Horror Stories

Episode Date: April 8, 2024

These are 3 Scary Cryptid Encounter Horror Stories Linktree: https://linktr.ee/its_just_creepy Story Credits: ►https://www.reddit.com/user/Horror_writer_1717/ ►https://www.reddit.com/user/M59Gar/ Timestamps: 00:00 Into 00:00:18 Story 1 00:24:35 Story 2 00:49:15 Story 3 Business inquiries: ►[e-mail] #scarystories #horrorstories #cryptids #deepwoods #forest 💀As always, thanks for watching! 💀

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All I knew was they were loud, which meant they were close. As I listened to the high-pitched shrieks, it almost sounded like a cover. of people having a shouting match. If I had been at my apartment in town, that's exactly what I would have thought the sound was. But then, the pitch changed, and it took on a feral quality. I knew whoever or whatever was making the sound, I wanted nothing to do with them. Thinking you're alone in the wilderness is one thing. It gives a certain freeing feeling like you're so close to nature, but knowing you're alone, and hearing the terrifying, nearly indescribable sound, sent chills down my spine.

questioned how much longer I would be alone or alive. Did those things know I was here? Were they planning their attack? Or was it just a gathering of something like a harmless chill session in the woods in the dead of night? My survival instinct was screaming for me to get out of there as quickly as possible. To hell with the tent and my supplies, just leave. For a brief moment I nearly listened. Later I would wish I had. Fortunately, I hadn't made a fire yet and decided against one now. If by some miracle those things didn't know I was here, a fire would draw them in like flies to, well, something I didn't want to be in.

Even though the screaming was still going at a fever pitch, I quietly snuck into my tent and zipped it shut. As if some flimsy material would magically keep at bay whatever beasts were raging out there. Searching through my pack, I found my Swiss army. knife and kept it firm in my grasp as I lay down on my sleeping bag. I didn't dare settle in for the night, sleeping through being attacked by wild, whatever, and torn to shreds can be bad for my health. As I lay there, eyes wide, listening to the horrible shrieks that seemed to come from everywhere, they suddenly stopped. At first, this was a relief. But when the sound stopped, so did all the other

noises in the forest. It was as if someone had hit the mute button on all of nature. I heard a loud thumping sound that sounded like drums beating faster and faster until I realized it was my heart. Trying to calm myself so I didn't have a heart attack on the spot was a challenge. I tried to think of calm blue oceans and sunrises, of beautiful things that had nothing to do with the situation I was in. Apparently, I did my job too well. I don't remember. I remember falling asleep, but I remember waking up in a panic. Jumping up, I looked all around for the beasts that were coming to get me. When all that stared back at me were the contents of my backpack and the four walls of the tent,

I allowed myself to take a few deep breaths. It was morning. The sun was up, and the birds were singing. I took both of those as good signs. Being alive was a bonus as well. It was decision time. Should I pack up and cut my trip short by two days? or should I write off last night's incident as a rare occurrence, and not worry about it today in the

daylight as the sun bathed me in warmth. It's funny how fear manifests itself so much stronger at night. Last night the forest seemed like the most horrifying place I'd ever been. Today, it looks like all the beauty of nature is spread out before me. I couldn't imagine anything bad happening in such a picturesque place. As I looked out over the clearing in the woods, I saw a large dark spot that was moving towards me. I dove into my tent and emerged with a pair of binoculars. Peering through them, I saw the spot was a bear, and it was headed my way, so much for nothing bad happening in nature. My plan of action was to hide and hope it went away, or turn down another path before it got here. That plan didn't work out so well. Within 15 minutes I could hear it

snuffling around the campsite, looking for something to eat. I hope that. I'd hope that. I was I hoped it wouldn't be eating fresh camper. The can of bear spray was firmly in my hand with my white knuckles clenching it. Having it was one thing, using it was another. That was my last resort. Spray and run. The sniffing got louder, and I could see a large nose pushing into the bottom edges of the tent.

My knuckles grew a little whiter as I followed its progress along the edge and around the tent. And then there was a pause. A dreadful pause. The kind of pause that horrible decisions are born from. I was contemplating my own horrible decision when the sniffing started again, this time leading away from the tent. Breathing a cautiously optimistic sigh of relief, I opened the tent flap just enough to see the bear lumbering off into the woods. Again, I held a silent vote, just like the song said,

Should I stay or should I go? I'd only been camping up here once before, but I didn't remember it being this dangerous. Maybe I just got lucky last time. Not wanting my luck to run out, I packed up my tent and got ready to leave. The sun was already high in the sky, leaving me just a few hours to hike out of what had taken me a full day to hike in. I looked for bear tracks to see which way it had left, but the ground was dry so there was nothing to see.

Crossing my fingers, I headed out on the trail, hoping it had gone some other way. It was easy going, making the terror of last night fade even more. I still kept a wary eye for the bear, though. No use in getting so caught up in nature that I ignore her dangers. After around an hour of walking, I found a large rock on the side of the trail and decided to take a break. Pulling out a granola bar and a bottle of water, I looked around as I snacked. There was a clearing in the woods and a rough path leading to it.

It wasn't any official path, just one that happens when a lot of feet go the same way and tramp down the foliage. There was a faint whiff of smoke coming from the clearing, but I couldn't see exactly what was causing it. My curiosity wanted to see what was there, but my common sense said no way. In the end, curiosity fought dirty and said the smoke meant there had been a fire, and the ashes could blow into the trees if the wind picked up and caused a wildfire. It was a good point, even though the wind was uncannily still at the moment.

I took a quick look around to make sure the bear wasn't sneaking up on me, then started down the narrow path. The trees blocked out some of the light as I headed down the path toward the clearing, making me literally descend into darkness. It wasn't a good feeling. My eyes darted around looking for anything out of the ordinary, and I slowed my pace. Then suddenly, the trees opened up, and daylight shone brightly on the clearing, and the remnants of a fire with a wisp of smoke still rising.

Whoever had made it had been dangerously uncaring about the safety of the woods. The fire sat right in the middle of a patch of grass, with no ring of stone surrounding it. My ire rose at the carelessness of this person. I found myself wishing very bad things on them when I noticed something else. There were splotches of red all around the fire. It was like someone had spilled red paint all around. It was strange. Why would someone bring paint out here to the middle of the woods?

I stalked around the other side of the fire, looking for the answer to this mystery. unfortunately I found it there was something pale sitting just outside the burnt grass of the fire it was next to a splotch of red i bent down and moved the grass to see more clearly picking it up i saw it was a severed human toe i dropped it and stood up like a shot the red splotches made sense to me now they weren't painted they were blood a chill ran down my spine I suddenly felt very alone and surrounded. My eyes darted all around the clearing and into the trees as I did a slow circle, searching for whatever was about to attack. As I searched, I saw the red splotches led off into the woods in the opposite direction of the trail.

Curiosity tried to get me to follow, but I told it to shut the hell up and high-tailed it out of there, my head on a swivel searching for threats. Just as I was about to reach the main trail, I literally ran into the bear. I'd been so busy watching behind me for whatever might be chasing me that I didn't see what was in front of me. It turned to face me, showing its red teeth. Then it stood on its hind legs, dwarfing me, and roared.

I wished I'd worn the brown pants because I soiled myself in fear. I was so terrified I didn't move. I couldn't. I was paralyzed. It dropped back down onto its front legs and approached me. Teeth bared. I knew right then it was responsible for the screams and the dismembered toe. The only thing I couldn't figure out was the fire.

I'd never heard of bears being able to start a fire. This was, unfortunately, the last thought going through my head before being eaten. It sniffed and took a step back. If I'd known dropping a load in my pants would save me, I would have done it last night. As I looked into the eyes of my death, it wasn't looking back at me. It was looking past me. I wasn't sure what kind of trick this bear was pulling. It wasn't like it had to fool me or anything.

It had me dead to rights. Curiosity made me turn and follow the bear's gaze. I instantly regretted it. Standing near the clearing was a monster. It was like nothing I'd ever seen before. It stood on hind legs, at least eight feet tall. It had the horns of a deer, but the face looked like a deer's skull with no skin on it.

Its shoulders were covered in what looked like a cloak made of another animal's skin. The bear let out a deep growl full of menace. I took the opportunity to back away and allow the bear a clear path to its adversary. It glanced at me for a moment, then started toward the monster. As soon as it was past me, I dropped my pack and ran down the trail with every ounce of speed I could muster. It didn't matter that my car was miles away. It didn't matter there was no way I could sprint all the way there without collapse. and having a heart attack. Just then, I heard the fight. The growling, roaring, slashing, knocking

trees down, fight that would have been awesome to watch. From inside a bunker with two-foot-thick concrete walls. Just me, alone, without a rocket launcher to defend myself, there was no way I was sticking around. I ran for a solid ten minutes before the stitch in my side told me I had to at least slow to a walk. I didn't dare stop. I knew I had to keep moving. It was my only chance of surviving by some miracle. The sounds of the fight echoed throughout the trees, making it seem surreal to hear it, then hear it echo back again.

It sounded like the fight was slowing down. I hoped it would last for a while longer. Maybe whichever one would forget about me or be too tired to track me down. My walk had become a limp. I was nearly out of energy and had a mile to go to the relative safety of my car. surely by now I could take it easy. As the thought rolled through my brain, the sounds of the fight ceased. The fading echo was all that remained. I wondered which one had been victorious and comforted myself that the victor was surely enjoying the spoils by feasting on the fallen adversary.

But in the back of my mind, unease grew. What if it didn't forget me? What if it was following me right now. I found myself walking a little faster, much to the pain and chagrin of my legs. The silence that fell in the aftermath of the fight was disconcerting. The animals around me that had been chattering away, suddenly falling silent, was alarming. I started jogging, each step a new exercise in pain. There was no doubt I was being followed. The footsteps behind me were getting louder by the moment. My car was in sight. I was almost free. The footstead. The footsteps behind me were getting louder by the moment. My car was in sight. I was almost free. The footsteps behind me were very loud now.

I knew it was right behind me, but I didn't dare look back. Run. Don't think. Just run. My thought screamed at me. Even my curiosity had no desire to look back. Ten steps from the car, I dug in my pocket looking for my keys. For a brief, terrifying moment, I couldn't find them. Then I dug a little deeper and came away with my prize. I hit the remote to unlock the car and dove into the driver's seat.

The engine had just roared to life when the monster appeared. I threw the car in reverse and stomped on the gas, whipping around and making the monster miss crashing through the windshield. I jammed it into drive and floored it as the monster recovered and started after me. For a long, horrid moment, it seemed to be catching up to me. The road was gravel and had several potholes in it. I found myself swerving to miss the biggest one so my car wouldn't bottom out. But by doing so, the monster was.

gained ground. It was almost within reach of my rear bumper when I slid sideways onto the main road. Once on the pavement, I floored it and watched with satisfaction as the monster fell behind. I breathed a sigh of relief as I relaxed and settled in for the ride home. It wasn't long until I was pulling into my driveway and parking. My head fell back against the headrest, and I was tempted to take a nap right there when my nose reminded me of the state of my pants. Walking and empty-handed was a mixed blessing. I'd left hundreds of dollars in equipment behind, but at least I was alive. My shower called to me.

I stripped, threw my pants and underwear in the trash, then settled into the longest, most rewarding shower of my life. After drying, I threw on a Metallica T-shirt and a pair of shorts. I came back out to the living room and settled in to watch a movie. Horror was out. I knew I'd have nightmares for weeks. about my ordeal. I decided to watch an episode of Wipeout. Three episodes later, I found my eyelids fighting gravity and exhaustion. Heading to bed, I turned out the lights and stepped up to the living room window. Looking out over the lights of town, I sighed, seeing the trees of the park

far in the distance and knowing I'd never visit there again. Before I turned toward my bedroom, something caught my eye. It was impossible. I rubbed my eyes to be sure. The monster was creeping out of the woods and coming straight toward my house. As I watched, it looked up and saw me. Our eyes locked. Mine full of fear. It's full of menace. I ran through the house making sure every door and window was locked. After that, I went to my bedstand and pulled out my snub nose 38, checking to make sure it was loaded and grabbing a handful of extra bullets, shoving them in my pocket. Running back out to the living room, I looked out the window, but it was gone. Pressing my face against the glass, I searched the front yard, but it wasn't there.

For an instant, I wondered if my imagination had been playing tricks on me. I went to the kitchen window and looked into the backyard. It was dark, and I couldn't see much. Reaching for the light switch, I hesitated, not wanting to see it suddenly appear in front of me. But I had to know if this thing was real or not. I would rather that I was going crazy than ever see that thing again. Flicking on the light, I took a half step back. Nothing was there.

I scanned the entire backyard all the way to the woods that bordered my property. Nothing. I shrugged and was about to go to bed when I heard it. My foot stopped on the first step, and I turned back toward the door. Someone or something was scraping against the front door. Feeling like I was in a trance, I was drawn to the door. Leaning up to the peephole, I closed my eyes and breathed a silent prayer that nothing would be there. My prayers were answered.

There was nothing out there. As tempted as I was to just accept this audible hallucination, my shaking hand reached for the doorknob. The distance between my hand and the door seemed to fade, like one of those scenes in a horror movie where the camera zooms in while going backward. I turned the knob and held my breath while opening the door. Nothing was there.

I released a breath I didn't realize I was holding. Looking around, the yard was empty, just the evening mist clinging to the lawn. My imagination had gotten the best of me. I turned to go back inside and saw the door, and doorframe had long scratches on it. My blood froze. It was real.

It was here. It had tracked me down. As terror gripped me, I saw a flash of brown fur an instant before it charged me. In sheer desperation, I fell back into the door just as it hit the doorframe. Its antlers slammed into the doorframe, sending splinters flying as it struggled to get loose from the destroyed wood. I lay on the door, watching in grim fascination,

stunned by the fact that it had missed gouging my eyes by a mere fraction of an inch. The doorway had saved me, the same doorway that was rapidly disappearing under the monster's onslaught. I regained myself and ran. As I darted through the living room, somehow, I had the presence of mine to grab the house phone and dial 911 as I headed down the basement steps slamming the door behind me. 911, what's your emergency?

Came the lady operator's voice. I'm being chased by a monster who's trying to kill me, I said, vaulting down the stairs. I'm sorry, could you repeat that? I'm being chased by a monster who's trying to kill me. Are you talking about a person? No, what do you not understand about the word monster? I shouted. All right, it's my duty to inform you that prank calls will be reported to the police, and you could face charges.

Fine, send the cops. Maybe they can fight off the monster long enough to put me in cuffs. The line disconnected. Son of a, I said as I heard the monster stalking around inside the house. I squeezed myself into the far corner between the wall and the oil tank, and tried to be as quiet as possible. Barley breathing, I listened to its measured steps as it crept from room to room. The floorboards complained with loud creaks, telling me this thing weighed considerably more than me.

I heard it turned toward the stairs and thought about making a run for the cellar door that led outside when my phone rang. Hello, I whispered, trying to be as quiet as possible. Is this the person who just called 911 about a monster? Yes, who is this? There was a pause as I heard the footsteps change direction. I'm from another agency, he said. Could you describe the monster for me? So you're from one of those three letter agencies that always say they don't spy on our phone calls?

Could you describe the monster for me? It's huge, I whispered, at least eight feet tall, covered in fur, and wearing the fur of another animal over its shoulders. Oh, and it has antlers like a deer. I heard a sharp intake of air. Where is it? I gave him my address. I meant where is it in the house? It's on the first floor, and I'm in the basement, I whispered.

But I think it's coming down here. Just then I heard the basement door open. Gotta go, I whispered, then hung up the phone. The basement stairs groaned under the weight. I hoped that the wood would collapse under the weight and it would fall, snapping its neck. No such luck. The stairs creaked as it continued to the bottom. I had to duck in this basement, so I was sure it was on all fours to keep from getting tangled in the rafters.

My heart pounded. I struggled to keep my breathing quiet, so I wouldn't give away my position. The chuffing of the monster's breathing was getting closer. I wanted to close my eyes, but had to know when it came close enough. Instead, I reached into my pocket and pulled out the gun. Aiming it at the corner, I waited. The skeletal snout appeared, but I didn't shoot. The shot would just bounce off of bone.

I wanted to hit something more vital and hope that I might somehow survive. The rest of the bony skull made its appearance and went by without noticing me. Next came the neck and the rest of the body. I wasn't sure where this thing's vital organs were, so I held off, hoping that it might not notice me at all. Those hopes were dashed when it sniffed, then whipped around and stared right at me. I took that as a sign to shoot it in the chest. The gunshot was deafening, especially in such a closed space. My ears were ringing so loud I could barely hear the monster screaming.

and tearing my oil tank limb from limb, trying to get to me. I fired again, trying to hit any part of its body as oil flew from it thrashing around. We were both covered in heating oil, and yet it still kept coming. Three more shots didn't even slow it down. It was so close the muzzle of the gun was nearly touching it. I shoved the barrel in one of its eye sockets and pulled the trigger. The flame from the exploding gunpowder set the oil on fire. I don't know if it was that, or the bullet bouncing.

bouncing around in its skull that made its shriek even louder. Flame engulfed its screaming form, making it look like a demon straight from hell. It ran out of the basement through the outside doors, bursting out into the open air and disappearing into the night. I was so relieved I didn't notice right away that I was on fire. The oil that had splashed on me had ignited when the monster caught fire. I tried to push my way out quickly, but the monster had shoved the tank closer to the wall. pinning me. The fire devoured the oil on my clothes and my bare skin, making me scream in agony, as I tried in vain to get away from the fire. This was it. I would die this horrible agonizing

death, trapped in an inferno. The monster would get its revenge and not even know it. Maybe once it extinguished its own fire, it would come back and devour what was left of me, like a well-done stake. I must have been hallucinating. I could have sworn a cloud enveloped me just before I died. I woke in a white room with an annoying beeping sound that wouldn't stop. There was a smiling face sitting in the corner staring back at me attached to a man I'd never met. How are you feeling? he said, stepping over to the hospital bed. Am I dead? I rasped. Not yet, he chuckled. It was close though. If we hadn't gotten to you when we did, you would have been a shish kebab. I tried to lean up, but the pain put me back in bed.

Yeah, you're not going to be taking any hiking trips for a while, he said. You've got burns all over your legs that'll need some time to heal. I'm never going hiking again, I said. Are you the guy I talked to on the phone? Yeah, do you mind telling me the rest of what happened, he said, pulling out a pen and notepad. Sure, I said shrugging. Since you saved my life, it's the least I could do. He pulled his chair over and got comfortable. What happened to the monster anyway, I said. He hesitated. It got away, didn't it?

Yeah, he said lowering his head a little. We lost the trail after it extinguished itself, but don't worry, we'll find it. I didn't comment on my opinion of the competency of government agencies out of respect for the man who saved my life, but suffice it to say I wouldn't be sleeping very deeply once I got back home. Where would you like me to start? I said. The beginning is always a good place. You said this place was steps from the water.

We just haven't found the steps yet. How much did we save? Enough. Enough to get lost. Or you could book a stay with Hilton. Welcome to your oceanfront room. Just steps from the water. The Hilton sale is on now.

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Grab that boho look for that rooftop dinner, those sandals that can keep up with you, and hang some string lights to give your patio a glow up. Spring's calling. Ross, work your magic. Hiding in plain sight. I never paid much attention to that phrase before I started my new job. Wanted, night-time security guard.

That's all the ad said, along with a phone number. The town I live in isn't. very big, barely a dot on the map on the way to somewhere else. But for whatever reason, we have a museum. I have no idea how it's still in business. I can't recall ever seeing a single person walk through their doors. But when I called the number, the man who answered told me to come to this address this evening for my interview. He seemed a little over-excited that I had answered the ad. When I asked him about the job, he said, Oh, you know, the usual thing for a security guard.

I've read some pretty unusual things about security guards in subredits, but I'm sure those stories are made up. Walking up the wide stone steps built to accommodate crowds of people was a little intimidating and creepy, with no one for company besides the glowing lamps mounted on the sides of the railings. The whole thing gave off a very dystopian, ghost town, zombie apocalypse vibe. I guess the stone gargoyles staring down at me didn't help much. I gazed into their eyes, half expecting them to jump down and carry me off to be sacrificed to Gozer.

If I hadn't already discussed my hourly wage, I would have turned and high-tailed at home. But the wage was more than acceptable for a security guard. It was downright generous. I was wondering why he would pay so much, but walking up those desolate stairs gave me a clue. Nobody wanted to go near this place. The word haunted had been mentioned more than once. Looking up at the front of the building, the sporadic lights made shadows fall all around and gave it an intimidating presence. I paused at the top of the stairs, thinking about every horror movie I've ever seen.

There's always that one moment where the characters could turn back and live another day, but they never do. The wind whipped up, blowing against me, threatening to push me back down the stairs, almost as if warning me not to go inside. For a moment, I considered heeding the warning and climbing back down the stairs. Knowing that my rent and car payment were due made me re-evaluate that decision. I stepped up and opened the door, wondering if I would ever come out. Fully expecting the door to creak on its hinges, I was pleasantly surprised when it opened silently and with little effort, despite feeling quite heavy. The ornate decorations and beautiful decor took my breath away.

I wasn't sure what I expected, but I found myself regretting that this was the first time I had ever visited this museum. I hadn't made it two steps until an elegantly dressed man appeared and smiled at me. He didn't so much as walk up to me.

Rather, he glided, showing an air of dignity bordering on royalty. Mr. Welton, I presume, he said, wearing a warm smile. Yes, sir, I said, offering my hand. He glanced at it with an amused look. Right then, follow me, and I'll show you your duties, he said, turning on his heels and gliding away. I pretended to smooth my hair as I followed, feeling like an idiot for offering my hand.

He glided past several works of art, toward a small desk. Right then, he said. You'll be in charge of checking the door so nothing gets in, he paused, or out. You mean stolen? I said. Yes. He said slowly, stolen. So I got the job?

He stared at me blankly. Did you show up? I nodded. You got the job. Do I need a uniform or anything? Let's see how your first night goes, he said. There's a set of rules on the paper on your desk. Please adhere to them.

You must do at least one round per night through every room and check every door. One round? That's it? This place is rather large and, challenging. I looked around with a hint of hesitation. Maybe there was a reason why it paid so much. He smiled. If you have any problems, just call the number on the paper. That's it? I believe so. I'll lock the door on my way out and unlock it again at nine o'clock on my way back in. I stepped over to the desk and began reading the paper. What does this mean? I said turning around,

but he was gone. Hello, I called, but only my voice echoed back to me. I looked at the puzzling paper again and read the rules. Rule number one, there are no rules. Rule number two, there are no rules. What is this fight club? I said to myself. Every time you break a rule, return to rule number one.

Wait a minute. How can I break a rule when there are no rules? Rule number three, how you follow the rules is as important as why you follow the rules. That made no sense at all. Rule number four, if you are caught breaking the rules, the penalties may be severe. Okay, there's something wrong here. This is just talking in circles. I read back over the rules and they looked strange.

More than just the strangeness of the rules non-rules themselves, it was the way they were written. I went back and looked at each letter. Then I paid attention to the letters that were capitalized. It looked like some hidden message. They're watching, I hesitated. Who's watching? I decided to keep reading in hopes that this would begin to make some sense.

Rule number five, do not under any circumstances make noise every time you do a round. Message received, don't move. I stood there, immobile, wondering how long I was meant to play this game and if someone would come by and tag me to unfreeze me and allow me to start my round. As I waited, chuckling to myself at the ludicrousness of this insane game of freeze tag, I felt the air grow cold. Clouds chugged out of my mouth like an old steam train as I fought the urge to rub my arms. A chill that had little to do with the sudden temperature drop ran down my spine as I felt a presence in the room.

It crept up behind me, silent as the grave. I could feel its hot breath wash over me as it sniffed. Instead of enjoying the sudden warmth, my temperature plummeted. My heart hammered in my chest. It was all I could do to keep from running away in sheer terror. As it passed by, I was overwhelmed by the stench of death. This thing was every nightmare I've ever had, personified. I refused to open my eyes and see its hideous form for fear of passing out.

Instead, I focused on imitating a statue, which was nearly impossible with my freezing body aching to shiver in frozen dread. The nameless terror passed to the far side of the room, taking some of the cold with it, and then as suddenly as it came, it was gone. The room returned to normal temperature, but I waited a few moments before moving, just to be sure.

Once I felt it was safe, I nearly collapsed to the floor in relief. After giving myself a moment to recover, I glanced at the paper with a newfound fear. Was this a harbinger of doom? or a warning label meant to keep me safe. Unsure if I wanted to read the rest, I took a moment to reevaluate my current career choice.

Could I just walk out and say I quit? After a brief internal debate, I decided it wasn't worth the money if I was about to be dragged through a portal to hell. Just a short time ago, I would have considered that thought laughably ludicrous, but it was seeming more plausible by the moment. I started toward the exit door

with every intention of calling and taking, telling my boss, I wouldn't be finishing the shift. Unfortunately, the door had other plans. When I pushed on the crash bar, nothing happened. I tried turning the deadbolt, but it refused to move. After a few minutes of futility, I gave up, frustrated and determined to just sit in this room until morning came around. Sitting at the desk, I spun around in the chair, waiting for the next nine hours and

13 minutes to pass quickly. Five minutes later, out of sheer boredom, I glanced at the paper. Rule number six, you can't just sit at the desk and wait for the door to open at the end of your shift. Suck it up. Are you serious? I said in frustration. Someone thinks they're funny, huh?

Glancing back at the paper, below Rule 6, was three letters. Y-E-S. I backed away and got up to do my round, if nothing else to get away from this all-seeing sheet of paper that I had grown a full. to look at. Hesitating, I reached for the door to the room where the nightmare had disappeared. Glancing up, I saw a slip of paper taped to the door. It said, The only way out is through. Sying heavily, my trembling hand turned the knob and slowly opened the door. As I closed it, on the other side was another slip of paper. This one said, Avoid eye contact and you'll be fine. Confused by the cryptic statement, I turned and realized what

it meant. The room was full of stuffed creatures of many shapes and sizes. Most of them seemed to be mythical in nature of the crypted variety. There was a Bigfoot, Skinwalker, Dogman, Jersey Devil, Wendigo, and many others. As my eyes scanned the room, I noticed movement. It wasn't much, but it was enough. The Skinwalker turned its head just slightly to look right at me. I quickly darted my eyes away in fear and disbelief when the Dogman turned its head to stare. at me. As panic coursed through my veins, I turned to go back through the door, remembering what the piece of paper on both sides of the door said. The only way out is through, and avoid eye contact, and you'll be fine. I felt the last statement was akin to saying, if you hold on tight enough on a roller coaster,

you won't need the safety harness. Aiming my eyes at the floor, I turned and started toward the far side of the room. I hoped that all they would do was watch. That hope. That hope. was dashed. I heard growls and footsteps from all around the room. Hesitating, I wondered if I would need a clean pair of pants by the time I reached the far side. That is, if I survived. The sounds of footsteps grew louder behind me, when suddenly there was a pair of hairy legs blocking my path. I stopped as a low growl made the air vibrate. Oh, dear God, I whispered, knowing that my life was about to end horribly and painfully. Fighting the urge to look up, I sidestepped and went around the legs, hoping to pass unnoticed.

I counted my footsteps, hoping each one wouldn't be my last. Silently praying, I continued toward the door with my eyes aimed down, watching nothing more than my feet. It seemed like the longest walk of my life, listening to the mythical creatures behind me come to life, and sounding every bit like they were following me, just waiting for the right moment to grab me and turn me into a late-night snack. it came as a surprise when i bumped my head into the far wall shocked not only that i had made it but that i had missed the door i glanced over and found my glorious escape route as i opened the door i accidentally glanced back into the room and made eye contact with the wendigo its roar of rage is something i'll never forget it charged at me with blinding speed and claws unsheathed fangs ready to tear me to shreds as i dove through the door in the nick of time slamming it behind me The impact on the other side of the wall made dust settle to the floor, causing me to sneeze. I stood and saw another piece of paper taped to the door.

Whatever you do, don't make a sound, it said. As I was about to make a comment about it being too late, a giant set of fangs flew at me from the semi-darkness. Attached to them was the biggest snake I'd ever seen or heard of. It shook off the impact with the door as my legs took over and sprinted for the far side of room. The dim lighting made it impossible to see the far door as well as rocks and other obstacles littering the floor as I made my desperate dash to safety. I swear the rock that tripped me moved into my path on its own. Instead of a death sentence, it saved my life as the snake flew over my

prone body, having tracked me down. Had I not tripped, its massive fangs would have gone straight through me. Not waiting around to celebrate my accidental good fortune, I jumped up and race toward the door again. It was now within sight, but so was the snake. It had recovered and was coiling for another strike. Running around a large boulder to make myself a harder target, I aimed for a spot five feet from the door. When I was almost to the door, I dove just as the snake passed over me, slamming into the wall as I jumped up and opened the door. Closing the door behind me, I took a moment to catch my breath and think about asking a lot more questions when I interview for my next job. I tried to open my eyes but realized they were already open. The room was engulfed

in total darkness. Pulling out my flashlight, I shone it around, but couldn't see anything aside from the door and the floor in front of me. There was no sign of anything in the room, not even a ceiling. It was as if the darkness sucked the light into itself, never to escape. Being robbed of sight, I relied on hearing. Taking a long listen, I waited to hear any growls or slithers, anything to give me a hint of what I might have to deal with. But there was nothing, only soul-crushing silence. Having scanned the room the best I could, I set out to find the far door. Nothing seemed strange. Even the echo sounded like a normal large room. It was just devoid of light. The normalness of it terrified me. All I could find out of place,

was a slight scent of disinfectant. I wasn't sure if that was because whatever horrible creature that called this room its home had killed people here, and they wanted to cover the smell, or if the creature itself had passed away, leaving some poor janitor to clean up the mess. In either case, I was on full alert. They say that when one of your senses falters, the others become more acute to make up for it. The same thing was happening with my paranoia. I imagined shadows moving around in the total pitch of darkness. My steps were small and slow as my arms waved in front of me acting as my eyes, searching for any obstacles.

It took what seemed like an eternity to get to the far side walking so slow. I guess that's the price of being careful. As I approached the wall, the flashlight and vision became useful once again. I must have gotten off track as I walked because the door was far off to the side. I had to walk a good fifty feet along the wall to find it. When I opened the door, I was greeted by a horrible sight. The snake was coiled up in front of it. I quickly shut the door as it prepared to strike.

Why would they have two snake rooms? But then why wasn't much of a relevant question in this place? My mind came up with a terrible answer. It wasn't a second snake, it was the same one. I must have gotten turned around in the darkness and done a circle. as my brain had a go around with denial, I tried to figure out a way to get across this room without unintentionally doubling back.

Keeping in mind that even though I had yet to see or hear anything in this room, didn't mean it wasn't there. Searching for any ideas, I looked down at my flashlight, then squared my shoulders against the wall to regain my bearings, and tossed the flashlight straight in front of me. It landed with a loud clatter,

then rolled around in a playful circle, before coming to rest. If there was anything in the room, most likely I'd just woken it up and showed it exactly where I was. I stood still and listened. After a few minutes, I didn't hear any movement. It seemed safe to walk to my flashlight, pick it up, and toss it another 15 feet, hopefully in a straight line. I did this the whole way across the room, still listening for sounds, but becoming more confident with each step that I wouldn't hear any. The door was just just a few feet to the side of where I'd aimed. Somehow, I'd gone in a straight line.

Grabbing the doorknob, I slowly turned it so as not to alert the snake if, by some trick, I ended up back in that room. But there was no trick, and no snake. The door opened to a blinding light. I covered my eyes to give them time to adjust. Once they had acclimated, I looked around at a beautiful room full of clouds. There were even clouds on the floor. It was disconcerting at first, and almost made me lose my balance, because they were so well

painted that it literally looked like I was walking on clouds. I took a tentative step into the room, making sure that it was an illusion, and I wasn't about to fall thousands of feet to my death. Holding my breath, I stepped on to the first cloud and let go of the doorframe. It was firm like a floor should be. My second and third steps were more confident, as I realized how effective the illusion was. Once I acclimated, walking on clouds was fun. This was turning out to be the easiest room I'd been in so far. That's when I heard the scream. It was deafening and seemed to come from everywhere at once.

I dove to the floor only to realize there was nowhere to hide from whatever it was. I stood out like a sore thumb against the blue sky and fluffy white clouds painted on every surface of the room. The scream sounded it again, and I began to run, having no idea which way I was going or where the screaming was coming from. For all I knew, I was running toward whatever it was. I just knew it didn't sound human, and I had no desire to find out what it was. Soon, the choice was taken out of my hands. I saw a dark spot appear against the clouds that quickly became larger. It was almost on me when I dove to the floor, feeling something sharp rake my back. Pain shot through me as I reached around and found the back of my shirt in shreds. Not only that, but my hand was covered in blood.

Whatever it was had sliced my back open and I was bleeding. Adrenaline kicked in, and I ran faster than I ever have. The problem was, I didn't know where I was running to, or what I was running from. I was just running. I heard wings flapping, and I looked back just in time to see the largest bird of prey I've ever seen. It looked like a golden eagle, only the thing was massive. The wingspan was easily 20 feet. As I was running, I turned to get a closer look at this thing, at the same time I was trying to get away from it. My feet got tangled up,

and I fell backward just as the razor-sharp talons passed over mere inches away from my face. I jumped up and started running again. As I glanced back to find my attacker, I was met with the strangest sight. There was a smear of blood on the floor where I had just been lying. It looked like someone had wiped blood on a cloud. The wings flapped again. I knew it was close. I had run out of luck. It would be ready for anything this time. Its razor-sharp talons would rip me to pieces. There was no doubt about it. There was only one option. I jumped and whipped around in mid-air, throwing my flashlight as hard as I could. It connected with its head that was mere feet away. It screamed and dove off to the side, impacting with the floor so hard I felt the vibration and landing in a heap.

I didn't stop to check on it. The door loomed ahead of me, and I pushed myself for every ounce of speed my body could muster. Turning the knob and opening the door in one smooth motion, I dove through and slammed it shut. Laying on the floor, breathing hard, trying to catch my breath, I knew I was a sitting duck for whatever monster lurked in this room. I rolled over to get in some defensive position for whatever was about to attack when I saw I was back in the main hall. I had somehow survived my first, and as far as I was concerned, last round. I stumbled my way to the restroom, in the back of my mind wondering what kind of insanity I would find in there.

Would I have to crawl through the mirror into another dimension to get a roll of toilet paper? Fortunately, the restroom held no surprises. I took off my destroyed shirt and ran water over it to clean up my back as best I could. When I was done, I put some paper towels on the wound and put my jewells. jacket on top of it. The desk and chair were where I spent the rest of the night. Surprisingly, it had taken me almost an hour to complete the round. As I sat there, pondering if I could survive another night at this job, I saw a dark spot form on the wall and detach itself only to float over toward me. I closed my eyes and sat perfectly still,

ignoring the sudden drop in temperature. The stench of death surrounded me, but I refused to move. For a moment I thought I heard a sound like sniffing, and then it seemed to diminish. Once the temperature rose again, I opened my eyes, and the apparition was gone. As bored as I was for the next few hours, I wasn't tempted to do another round, not even in the slightest. When nine o'clock rolled around, the boss curator appeared, and glided over to me, wearing a little grin. I see you managed to make it through, he said. Congratulations, you're the first one in some time. The first one to make it through a single round?

He nodded. How many others have there been? I said with a haunted look in my eyes. He shook his head. Let's not worry about that, shall we? He said. Here is the amount we agreed upon. He handed me a stack of bills, and I gladly took them.

Would you be interested in staying on in being my permanent nighttime guard? I looked at the money inside. As much as I'd like to, I don't see how this job could be. be called permanent when the mortal danger is so real. It is a challenge I'll admit. However, you rose to it last night, he said. I'm prepared to offer you twice the amount I gave you if you agreed to stay on. I stared at the fistful of money and imagined not having to struggle with bills or any other expenses. Then I turned a little, and my back painfully reminded me of the dangers. I'd have to think about it, I said. While you're thinking, consider this. You have yet to

see the basement. Basement? He nodded. It's considerably more challenging. I'll let you know. Very well. You can see yourself out. I recommend getting that back tended to. With that, he vanished into thin air right in front of my eyes. I looked at the money, wondering if it would vanish as well. Fortunately, it remained firmly in my grasp as I walked toward the front door. For some reason, I felt hesitant to open it and leave. It was as if some force was exerting itself against me like the museum didn't want me to go. It wasn't a pleasant feeling, more like a dog losing its favorite toy. I pushed the doors open and left.

This whole ordeal made me ponder my concepts of reality, as well as being terrified of the day, when the things in the building would escape somehow. The big question was, did I need the money that badly? Was I willing to put myself in mortal peril just for a few measly dollars? I turned and looked back at the museum. In the daylight, it looked innocent. None of the terrors that lay within showed on the outside. As I turned to head home, I swore I saw a fleeting glimpse of the apparition.

It seemed to be following me. I looked again, and it was gone. Must have been my imagination. Some things work better together, like Nars' soft matte complete concealer and radiant creamy concealer. Soft matte complete concealer erases and blurs and perfections with full cover. Then, radiant creamy concealer evens and brightens with a luxurious texture and radiant finish.

Two concealers, one flawless look. Perfect for a no foundation base. Nars, better together. Visit Sephora to shop now. I don't know when you're going to read this, but I can tell you when it started. I was out for a walk alone in the woods when the entity came for me. It was beyond a blur.

It was, for lack of a better term, absence of meaning. Where it hid, there were no trees. Where it crept closer, there was no grass. Through the ark, it leaped at me. There was no breeze of motion. There was no air at all. As it struck, I felt the distinct sensation of claws puncturing me somewhere unseen. Somewhere I'd never felt before. My hands and arms and legs and torso seemed fine, and I wasn't bleeding, but I knew I'd been injured somehow. As I fearfully, ran back home, I could tell that I was less. I was vaguely tired, and it was hard to focus at times. The solution at that early stage was easy. A big cup of coffee helped me feel normal again.

For a while, that subtle drain on my spirit became lost in the ebb and flow of caffeine in my system. You could say my life began that week, actually, because that was when I met Mar. She and I got along great, though. To be honest, I'm pretty sure I fell in love with her over the phone before we even met. It was almost as if the strong emotions of that first week made the entity fight back. It was still with me, latched on to some invisible part of my being. The first few incidents were minor, and I hardly worried about them. The color of a neighbor's car changed from dark blue to black one morning, and I stared at it before shaking my head and shrugging off the difference. Two days later, at work, a co-worker's name changed from Fred to Dan. I carefully asked

around, but everyone said his name had always been Dan. I figured I'd just been mistaken. Then, as ridiculous as this sounds, I was peeing in my bathroom at home when I suddenly found myself on a random street. I was still in my pajamas, pants down, but now in full view of a dozen people at a bus stop. Horrified, I pulled up my clothes and ran before someone called the cops. I did manage to get home, but the experience forced me to admit that I was. I was still in danger. The entity was doing something to me, and I didn't understand how to fight back. Marr showed up that evening, but she had her own key. Hey, I asked her with confusion. How'd you get a key? She just laughed. You're cute. Are you sure you're okay with this? She opened a door and entered a

room full of boxes. I know living together is a big step, especially when we've only been dating three months. Living together, I'd literally just met her the week before. The thing was, my mother had always called me a smart cookie for a reason. I knew when to shut my yap. Instead of causing a scene, I told her everything was fine, and then I went straight to my room and began investigating. My things were just as I had left them with no sign of a three-month gap in habitation, but I did find something out of the ordinary, the date. I shivered angrily as I processed the truth. The entity had eaten three months of my life. What the hell was I facing? What kind of creature could consume pieces of one's soul like that? I'd miss the most exciting

part of a new relationship, and I would never understand any shared stories or in jokes from that period. Something absurdly precious had been taken from me, and I was furious. That fury helped suppress the entity. I never imbibed alcohol. I drank coffee religiously. I checked the date every time I woke up. For three years, I managed to live each day while observing nothing more than minor alterations. A social fact here and there. Someone's job.

How many kids they had. That sort of thing. The layout of nearby streets. The time my favorite television show aired. That kind of thing. Always. Those changes reminded me the creature still had its claws sunk into my spirit.

Not once in three years did I ever let my soul. zone out. One day, I grew careless. I let myself get really into the season finale of my favorite show. It was gripping, a fantastic story. Right at the height of the action, a young boy came up to my lounger and shook my arm. Surprised, I asked, who are you? How did you get in here? He laughed and smiled brightly, silly daddy. My heart sank in my chest. I knew immediately what had happened. After a few masked questions, I discovered that he was two years old, and that he was my son. The agony and heartache filling my chest was nearly unbearable. Not only had I missed the birth of my son, I would never see or know the first years of his life.

Mar and I had obviously gotten married and started a family in the time I'd lost, and I had no idea what joys or pains those years contained. It was snowing outside, holding my sudden sun in my lap, I sat and watched the flakes fall outside. What kind of life was this going to be if slips in concentration could cost me years? I had to get help. The church had no idea what to do. The priest didn't believe me, and told me I had a health issue rather than some sort of possession.

The doctors didn't have any clue. Nothing showed up on all their scans and tests, but they happily took my money in return for nothing. By the time I ran out of options, I'd decided to tell Marr. there was no way to know what this all looked like from her side. What was I like when I wasn't there? Did I still take our son to school? Did I still do my job? Clearly I did, because she seemed to be none the wiser,

but I still had a horrible feeling that something must have been missing in her life when I wasn't actually home inside my own head. But the night I set up a nice dinner in preparation, she arrived not by unlocking the front door, but by knocking on it. I answered and found that she was in a nice dress. She was happily surprised by the settings on the table. A fancy dinner for a second date? I knew you were sweet on me.

Thank the Lord I knew when to keep my mouth shut. If I'd gone on about being married and having a son, she might have run for the hills. Instead, I took her coat and sat down for our second date. Through carefully crafted questions, I managed to deduce the truth. This really was our second date. She saw relief and happiness in me, but interpreted that as dating jitters. I was just excited to realize that the entity wasn't necessarily eating whole portions of my life.

The symptoms, as I was beginning to understand them, were more like the consequences of a shattered soul. The creature had wounded me, broken me into pieces. Perhaps I was to live my life out of order, but at least I would actually get to live it. it. And so it went for a few years, from my perspective. While minor changes in politics or geography would happen daily, major shifts in my mental location only happened every couple of months. When I found myself in a new place and time in my life, I just shut up and listened, making sure to get the lay of the land before doing anything to avoid making mistakes. On the farthest flung leap yet, I met my six-year-old grandson, and I asked him what he wanted

to be when he grew up. He said, writer. I told him that was a fine idea. Then, I was back in month two of my relationship with Mar, and I had the best night with her on the riverfront. When I say the best, I mean the best. Knowing how special she would become to me, I asked her to move in. I got to live through what I'd missed the first go-around, and I came to understand that I was never mentally absent.

I would always be there, eventually. When we were moving her boxes in, she stopped for a moment and said she marvelled at my great love, as if I'd known her for a lifetime and never once doubted she was the one. That was the first time I'd truly laughed freely and wholeheartedly since the entity had wounded me. She was right about my love for her, but for exactly the reason she'd considered a silly romantic analogy. I had known her my whole life, and I'd come to terms with my situation and found peace with it. It wasn't so bad to have sneak peeks at all the best parts ahead. But of course, I wouldn't be writing this if it hadn't gotten worse.

The entity was still with me. It had not wounded me and departed like I'd wanted to believe. The closest I can describe my growing understanding was that the creature was burrowing deeper into my psyche, fracturing it into smaller pieces. Instead of months between major shifts, I began having only weeks. Once I noticed that trend,

I feared my ultimate fate would be to jump between times in my life, heartbeat by heartbeat, forever confused, forever lost. Only an instant in each time meant I would never be able to speak with anyone else, never be able to hold a conversation, never express or receive love. As the true depth of that fear came upon me, I sat in an older version of myself and watched the snow falling outside. That was the one constant in my life. the weather didn't care who I was or what pains I had to face. Nature was always there.

The falling snow was always like a little hook that kept me in a place. The pure emotional peace it brought was like a panacea on my mental wounds, and I'd never yet shifted while watching the pattern of falling white, and thinking of the times I'd gone sledding, or built a snow fort as a child. A teenager touched my arm. Grandpa? A? He'd startled me out of my thwart.

thoughts, so I was less careful than usual. Who are you? He half grinned, as if not sure whether I was joking. Handing me a stack of papers, he said. It's my first attempt at a novel. Would you read it and tell me what you think? Ah, of course. Pursuing that dream of being a writer, I see. He burned bright red. Trying to, anyway. All right. Run off. I'll read this right now. The words were blurry and, a no one of them.

I looked for glasses I probably had for reading. Being old was terrible, and I wanted to leap back into a younger year, but not before I read his book. I found my glasses in a sweater pocket and began leafing through. Mar puttered in and out of the living room, still beautiful, but I had to focus. I didn't know how much time I would have there. It seemed that we had relatives over. Was it Christmas? A pair of adults and a couple of kids I didn't recognize tromped through. the hallway, and I saw my son, now an adult, walk by with his wife on the way out the door. As a group, the extended family began sledding outside. Finally, I finished reading the story, and I called out for my grandson. He rushed down the stairs and into the living room. How was it? Well, it's terrible, I told him truthfully, but it's terrible for all the right reasons. You're still a young man, so your characters behave like young people. But the structure of the story itself is very solid. I paused. I didn't expect it to turn out to be a horror story. He nodded.

It's a reflection of the times. Expectations for the future are dismal, not hopeful like they used to be. You're far too young to be aware like that, I told him. An idea occurred to me. If you're into horror, do you know anything about strange creatures? Sure, I read everything I can, I love it. Wharily, I scanned the entrances to the living room. Everyone was busy outside. For the first time, I opened up to someone in my life about what I was experiencing.

In hushed tones, I told him about my fragmented consciousness. For a teenager, he took it well. You're serious? Yes. He dawned the determined look of a grown man accepting a quest. I'll look into it, see what I can find out. You should start writing down everything. you experience, build some data. Maybe we can map your psychic wound. Wow. Sounds like a plan.

I was surprised. That made sense, and I hadn't expected him to have a serious response. But how will I get all the notes in one place? Let's come up with somewhere for you to leave them, he said, frowning with thought. Then I'll get them, and we can trace the path you're taking through your own life, see if there's a pattern. For the first time since the situation had gotten worse, I felt hope again. How about under the stairs? Nobody ever goes under there. Sure.

He turned and left the living room. I peered after him. I heard him banging around near the stairs. Finally he returned with a box, laid it on the carpet, and opened it to reveal a bursting stack of papers. He exclaimed, Holy crap! But of course, being a teenager, he didn't really say crap.

Taken aback, I blinked rapidly, for giving his cussing because of the shock. Did I write those? He looked up at me with wonder. Yeah, or you will. You still have to write them and put them under the stairs after this. He gazed back down at the papers, then covered the box. So you probably shouldn't see what they say. That could get weird.

That much I understood. Right. He gulped. There are like fifty boxes under there, all filled up like this. Deciphering these will take a very long time. His tone dropped to deadly seriousness. But I will save you, Grandpa, because I don't think anyone else can. Tears flowed down my cheeks then, and I couldn't help but sob once or twice.

I hadn't realized how lonely I'd become in my shifting prison of awareness, until I finally had someone who understood. Thank you. Thank you so much. And then I was young again, and at work on a random. Tuesday. Once the sadness and relief faded, anger and determination replaced them. After I finished my work, I grabbed some paper and began writing. While the weeks shifted around me, while those weeks became days, and then hours, I wrote every single spare moment about when and where I thought I was.

I put them under the stairs out of order. My first box was actually the 30th, and my last box was the first. Once I had over 50 boxes written from my perspective, and once my shifting became a matter of minutes, I knew it was up to my grandson to take it from there. I put my head down and stopped looking. I couldn't stand the river of changing awareness any longer. Names and places and dates and jobs and colors and people were all wrong and different. I'd never been older. I sat watching the snowfall, a man of at least 30, whom I vaguely recognized entered the room. Come on, I think I finally figured it out. I was so frail that moving was painful.

Are you him? Are you my grandson? Yes. He took me to a room filled with strange equipment and sat me in a rubber chair facing a large mirror twice the height of a man. The pattern finally revealed itself. How long have you worked on this? I asked him aghast. Tell me you didn't miss your life like I'm missing mine. His expression was both stone cold and furiously resolute. It'll be worth it. He brought two thin metal rods close to my arm and then nodded at the mirror.

Look, this shock is carefully calibrated. The electric zap from his device was startling, but not painful. In the mirror, I saw a rapid, arcing, light silhouette appear above my head and shoulder. The electricity moved through the creature like a wave, briefly revealing the terrible nature of what was happening to me. A bulging, leech-like mouth was wrapped around the back of my head, coming down to my eyebrows and touching each ear, and its slug-like body ran over my shoulder and into my very soul. It was a parasite, and it was feeding on my mind.

My now-adult grandson held my hand as I took in the horror. After a moment he asked, removing it is going to hurt very badly. Are you up for this? Fearful, I asked. Is Mar here? His face softened. No, not for a few years now.

I could tell from his reaction what had happened, but I didn't want it to be true. How? We have this conversation a lot, he responded. Are you sure you want to know? It never makes you feel better. Tears brimmed in my eyes. Then I don't care if it hurts, or if I die. I don't want to stay in a time where she's not alive. He made a sympathetic noise of understanding, and then returned to his machines to hook several wires, diodes, and other bits of technology to my limbs and forehead. While he did so, he talked. I've worked for two decades to figure this out, and I've had a ton of help from other researchers of the occult. This parasite doesn't technically exist in our plane. It's one of the lesser spons of Zen, and it feeds on the plexus of mind,

soul, and quantum consciousness, reality. When details like names and colors of objects changed, you weren't going crazy. The web of your existence. was merely losing strands as the creature ate its way through you. I didn't fully understand. I looked up in confusion as he placed a circle of electronics like a crown on my head, in exact line with where the parasite's mouth had ringed me. What's Zen? He paused his work and grew pale.

I forgot that you wouldn't know. You're lucky, believe me. After a deep breath, he began moving again and placed his fingers near a few switches. Ready? This is carefully tuned to make your nervous system extremely unappetizing to the parasite, but it's basically electroshock therapy. I could still see Mars smile. Even though she was dead, I'd just been with her moments ago.

Do it. The click of a switch echoed in my ears, and I almost laughed at how mild the electricity was. It didn't feel like anything, at least at first. Then I saw the mirror shaking, and my body within that image convermed. Oh, no, it did hurt. Nothing had ever been more painful. It was just so excruciating that my mind hadn't been able to immediately process it. As my vision shook and the fire burned in every nerve in my

body, I could see the reflected trembling light silhouette of the parasite on my head, as it writhed in agony equal to mine. It had claws, six clawed, lizard-like limbs under its leech-like body, and it cut into me in an attempt to stay latched on. The electricity made my memories flare. Mars' smile was foremost, lit brightly in front of a warm fire as the snow fell past the window behind her. The edges of that memory began lighting up, and I realized that my life was one continuous stretch of experience. It was only the awareness of it that had been fragmented by that feasting evil on my back. I'd never managed to be there for the birth of my son.

I jumped around it a dozen times, but never actually lived it. For the first time, I got to hold Mar's hand and be there for her. No, no. That moment had shifted seamlessly into holding her hand as she lay in a hospital bed for a very different reason. Not this. God, why? It was so merciless to make me remember this. I broke down in tears as nurses rushed into the room. I didn't want to know. I didn't want to experience it. I'd seen all the good parts, but I hadn't wanted the worst part, the inevitable end that all would one day face.

It wasn't worth it. It was tainted. All that joy was given back ten thousandfold as pain. The fire in my body and in my brain surged to sheer white torture, and I screamed. My scream faded into a surprised shout as the machines in electricity and chair faded away. Snow was no longer falling around my life. I was out in the woods on a bright summer day, oh God. I turned to see the creature approaching me. It was the same absence of meaning, the same blank on reality. It crept forward, just like before. But this time, it hissed and turned away. I stood astounded at being young again and freed from the parasite. My grandson had actually done it. He'd made me an unappetizing meal, so the predator of mind and soul had moved on

in search of a different snack. I returned home in a daze, and while I was sitting there processing all that had happened, the phone rang. I looked at it in awe and sadness. I knew who it was. It was Marjorie, calling for the first time for some trivial reason she'd admit 30 years later was made up just to talk to me. But all I could see was her lying in that hospital bed dying. It was going to end an unspeakable pain and loneliness. I would become an old man. I would become an old man, left to sit by myself in an empty house, his soulmate gone long before him. At the end of it all, the only thing I would have left, sitting and watching the falling snow. But now, thanks to my grandson, I would also have my memories. It would be a wild ride, no matter how it

ended. On a sudden impulse I picked up the phone. With a smile, I asked, Hey, who's this? Even though I already knew.