Just Creepy: Scary Stories - Scary Stories for Summertime | Middle of Nowhere, Gas Station, Forest, Camping, Summer Break

Episode Date: July 2, 2022

These are 2 Scary Stories for Summertime | Middle of Nowhere, Gas Station, Forest, Camping, Summer Break Linktree: https://linktr.ee/its_just_creepy You can submit your own story to my Website, email, or subreddit:  ►https://www.justcreepy.net/  ►[e-mail]  ►https://www.reddit.com/r/justcreepystories/ Story Credits: ► https://tinyurl.com/yckscmzk ► https://tinyurl.com/34xydsnb   Music by: ► Myuu's channel http://bit.ly/1k1g4ey  ►CO.AG Music http://bit.ly/2f9WQpe Free HD Stock-Footage and Motion Graphics by CyberWebFX ►https://www.youtube.com/c/CyberWebFX    Business inquiries:  ►[e-mail]

I hated campfire stories growing up. My parents made me go to summer camps where people who couldn't stand their kids ditched them. Why bother having kids if you couldn't stand to be around them during the summer? My parents told me it was for enrichment, whatever that meant. Make friends, get to know people, have a good time. Well, nothing is good about being forced to sit by wood smoke while getting poked by mosquitoes. All while some idiot named Councillor Todd told a cheesy campfire story. Worse was when, cool, counselor Chadley accompanied on his guitar.

Anyway, as I said, I hated these stories growing up. I always had really vivid dreams, along with an overactive imagination. Those stories that blurred the lines between reality and fiction made both go haywire, and my mind became trapped in a spiral of what-if scenarios. Always watching the shadows of the cabin walls as the moonlight made the branches stretch like fingers. Feeling breath on my ear when it was just the AC. The groan of my bunkmaid's bedsprings

was some horrible criminal dragging his sickle along the floor. I think the worst story that Todd ever told was about the dear woman. It was nothing like the Native American tales of shape-shifting women where men are lured away to be stomped by their hoofs or stories of transformation. No, Todd's deer woman was something much more scary. It was something like this woman was driving down a road close to camp and hit a deer. Upon impact, she went through the windshield and collided with the deer.

When the police and ambulance arrived, they found the deer, the crushed car, and a set of red footprints leading off. into the woods. They never found the woman. Legend says she still haunts the forest around the camp to this day. Todd said this to his terrified masses. The shadows playing over his face made him look demonic. After enduring three weeks of Todd's dramatics, I was over the spooky firelight trick. But the story freaked me out. I already detested the idea of driving, the very thought of driving alone some dark. dark winding road only to slam into a deer was terrifying. Then, mix that in with having my broken remains smashed with the deer?

F that noise. The other stuff about the woman walking away to haunt the forest was obviously BS, though my fear of anything Servine in nature wasn't so sure. Don't judge me. Deer are freaky looking. And have you ever heard an elk bugle? Haunting. So, the story it's.

was playing on my imagination a little. Anything vaguely horn-like had my skin crawling, which my fellow campers thought was super hilarious. Then the night only got worse. It was already late. Being in the middle of June, the sun was still lighting up the sky around 9 p.m. So the scary stories hadn't commenced until about 10 o'clock. Now the horrible hour of midnight was slowly approaching, and tonight was supposed to be. to be a camp-wide hide-and-seek spotlight tag event. The whole thing sounded horrible. Why allow campers armed with only a flashlight and wits to hide anywhere on the campgrounds? There were restrictions like no one was allowed to hide in the woods. Still, the situation

sounded dubious at best. Nevertheless, campers who saw the flawed logic of such a game were not permitted to stay on the bench. So, I played against my will. At first, I tried to hide somewhere obvious, so I would be found and made to sit out early. That plan was foiled when counselor Chad came up and looked at me with that expression you'd give to an obnoxious toddler. Come on, dude, he said in his Chadliest tone. I know you don't like these games, but you got to at least try, man. I'm going to turn around and count again. And then, This time, you better find a good place to hide, okay? One, two, three.

He was really going to make me do this. Fine. If I had to play, I'd play to win and give them a scare for once. I ran from my spot under the picnic tables down the road toward the best hiding place I knew. About half a mile from the actual campgrounds sat a collection of abandoned buildings that had been part of the camp at one point. All of the buildings had fallen into despair. Some had boarded windows and doors.

The areas were littered with broken glass. Many of them stuffed with old furniture and hardware, like ovens, fridges, and those serving tables you'd see at buffets, plenty of broken bunk beds, mattresses, dressers. In other words, things to hide under. Was I afraid of the potential spider, or tetanus hazard? Sure. But the drive to stick it to those annoying camp jockeys spurred me. I'm still not sure about what happened after that, after I found a place to hide.

Tucked away, under a collection of discarded bunk beds, I watched the windows for signs of the flashlights. I felt pretty proud of myself, I'm not going to lie. They would probably be searching for me for hours. Would I get in trouble for this later? Probably. Would I get sent home? Oh God, I hope so. I remember being in that abandoned cabin for a long time, far longer than I thought I would be. I didn't have a watch or phone with me,

so I couldn't tell what time it was. Boredom started to take its toll after a while. The longer time went without any of the counselors coming to find me, the more I considered crawling out of my hiding place and walking back to my cabin. A horrible stench reached my nose just as I decided that enough was enough. It was probably the worst thing I had ever smelled, and someone exploded a can of fart spray in my high school wood shop class last year.

So that was saying something. Whatever it was, it was clear that something was rotting nearby. I hoped it wasn't anywhere close to my hiding place. You think I would have noticed sooner. But then I heard a sound of something. walking. I say something and not someone because the rhythm was off. There was this kind of lopping, dragging noise. There were too many legs for a person, but it wasn't enough for an animal. Step, step, step, drag. Step, step, step, drag. The hairs on the back of my neck and arms

stood up, a knot formed in my gut, and a little voice of self-preservation screamed that something wasn't right. The sound drew closer, the scent of rot growing more intense with each step. Then my ears caught the inhale and exhale of ragged breaths, as if whatever it was was attempting to breathe through a wet towel. Something fell in heavy drops onto the ground, like someone was carrying a bucket of water, and some of it was sloshing out. Then there was the buzzing of flies. As I stared out the window nearest my hiding place, I could see a black cloud swirling in the moonlight.

Not long after, a shadowy figure stumbled into view. My mind whirled to place the jumble of shapes and forms into some kind of order. The thing appeared to be humanoid in the way it moved, but I saw a set of massive, deer-like antlers, and a slender animal face sitting on top a long, twisted nose. neck. Smore-flavored bile rose in my throat as my eyes picked out strips of hanging meat through the dirt-covered windows. As the thing lumbered to the cabin door, I forced myself to be still, forced my breathing to be silent, forced my bladder to not go in terror. The creature pushed the door

open. It's dreadful, dull creek filled the air like the last groan of a wounded animal. Step, step, step, drag. Step, step, step, drag. It lurched and lumbered across the floor, carried by two broken humanoid legs and one deer leg trailing behind. The stench from earlier hit my nose with a force that nearly made my stomach revolt. Red bile dripping from the dislocated jaw onto the floor. Shadows enveloped the creature's face, but I knew it was looking for me.

This couldn't be real. Monsters and things that searched for kids in the world. woods didn't exist in real life. This had to be some kind of a sick prank Todd and the others were playing. Someone, one of them, had to see me running off to the abandoned camp area. They got all dressed up and covered themselves in whatever foul-smelling spray this was to scare me. They knew how overreactive my imagination was and were messing with me. The thing grew closer. If this was a prank, it wasn't funny. I wanted to scream for whatever it was to stop it. Go back to camp and tell the others that they had found me. However, something in the

back of my mind clamped down on my voice, a primal sense that screamed that this thing was not a person. Step, step, step, drag. The creature stopped in front of my hiding place. My stomach rolled with the stench of decay. What little light shined through the grimy windows, illuminated pale, misshapen purple blue legs. Bones crackled as it bent in half to peer into my den. Red and maggie bile dripped from its broken, dear jaw, and one of the empty sockets. Warm, putrid breath hit my face

and I could feel myself filled with nausea on the edge of release. We stared at each other for a mind-numbing amount of time. Silence stretched on and weighed heavy and cold. Not knowing what else to do, I pointed one trembling finger toward the doth. door, with a voice filled with tears and terror, I said, the hospital, the hospital is that way. The dear woman continued her silence stare for a few more minutes. I thought my racing heart would get to me before she decided to, as I stared into her one dull black eye. Then, like a rubber toy,

her body slumped in half before rolling back up, each of her vertebrae popped and cracked as she stood. Finally, she turned and made her slow, shambling way out of the building and away in the direction I pointed. Step. Step. Step. Drag. I'm sure I passed out after she disappeared. Or maybe I went into some kind of blackened-out state of panic. I can't really remember. I know I had returned to the camp at some point with everyone in a frenzy looking for me. Even the police and an ambulance had been called. Everyone was ready to give me a stern talking to until one of the EMTs noticed the shock on my face. In a way, I got my wish because I was taken to the hospital and later picked up by my parents to go home. And before you ask, no, no one believed me.

Why would they? The story sounded impossible. I wanted to believe it was impossible because things like that aren't real. They only exist in stories told around dumb campfires to susceptible. susceptible imaginations like mine. So, now that you've heard my story, who wants to play Hide and Seek. What they did to your family, you're lucky to make it out alive.

Streaming on Peacock. These men are going to come after me. Taking them out. It's my only chance. Put a bullet in her head. From the co-creator of Ozark. Looks like a family was running drugs. Execution style killing it's rare for the keys.

They leads on who they might have been running for. The cartel. Killed my family. I'm going to kill them. All of them. MIA. Streaming now. Only on Peacock.

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Please gamble responsibly. Monopoly is a trademark of Hasbro. Hasbro is not a sponsor of this promotion. Bobby leaned his head against the cool glass counter. The gas station was empty. No one ever came down this way, and he doubted tonight would be any different. He often wondered why the hell he was here

if only one customer showed up every third week. He did not wonder tonight. It was too damn hot. I should have called out six. he muttered, rotating his head, making sure the skin never left the cold safety of the glass. The room spun around him. It was a dramatic and frankly goofy way of moving, but Bobby prided himself in finding little things to keep himself entertained. The thought of exposing himself to anything other than the cold counter was not entertaining. The security camera TV flashed

by in one corner, the rows of cigarettes on the wall behind him, until finally, Finally, the back wall of refrigerator doors, even its cramped icy corridor would offer little relief in that hot muggy air. Bobby slid off the counter and scanned the room. The shelves all sat with their products neatly organized. The coffee maker across the room blinked plainly, ready to brew for any would-be customer. There probably wouldn't be any. He stood and stretched, leaned over the counter to scan the parking lot. The gas station sat in the middle of a of unplanted fields, with a single winding road separating the fields from a thick forest of pine. Bobby thought the fields were dried up and had never been told otherwise. He hadn't seen any

farmers in all the years that he had worked here. It didn't bother him any. Most of the people who stopped in the gas station were locals, who just happened to be at this end of town. Rarely did they ever come here by choice. Bobby sighed and checked his watch. He needed to pass the time, and the only thing that would help was to work. He wandered to the tiny storage closet to the left of the fridge doors and fished out a mop in a bucket. Cleaning the bathroom was rarely something he would ever volunteer for, but it would pass the time, and more importantly, it was cold in there.

Bobby hooked his fingers around the out on break sign under the front counter and sauntered over to the front doors with it. A loud ringing echoed through the empty store when he pressed his foot on the doormat. The same bell would ring if someone stepped on the rug on the other side of the door too. Bobby rarely heard that bell. Should have called out today. He sighed to himself. Bobby hung up the sign and stared out into the quiet night. He wondered if there were any animals out there looking back at him from the woods. He pressed his forehead to the door and thought about all the things that he would rather be doing. It did nothing to help his current situation, but it was

was refreshing to think about all the things he could be doing when he eventually did have off. He rose, wiping the sweat from his forehead and peered at the door glass. A wet, blurry smudge mark where he had leaned. Another job to make the time pass by. Bobby nodded to himself, grabbed the mop, and began wheeling the bucket towards the bathroom. As he sauntered towards the bathroom door, he missed the lone car speeding past into the dark distance like about out of hell. As Bobby propped the door open, he could not see the car wildly swerving across the center lane, over the trees. Lights had suddenly began to dot in the night sky, bigger than stars. No, closer than stars. They descended ever so gently, large groups of them converging toward the retreating vehicle.

They were like paper lanterns, lanterns dotting at the night sky. Lights began appearing in the forest in clumps. More lanterns. The car banked hard into the open field to avoid a cluster of lanterns that had exited the dense tree line. The car kicked up dirt and rocks and struck something incredibly hard. The front end bucked, bounced into the air and dipped, sending the car flipping end over end. Its taillight swirled and danced through the night. It came to a complete stop, tilted forward in the dirt as if it had been sent from a cannon some miles away. Because Bobby was wiping down the bathroom mirror, he did not have to be a complete stop.

see the man crawl from the wreckage, screaming, waving frantically at the gas station. The lanterns began to convene above him, slowly descending from every direction. The man noticed them and began sprinting, yelling louder. Bobby could not hear him over the mop going back and forth across the cool bathroom tile. The lanterns froze in place. They surrounded the man now. Then, one by one, they broke the huddle in a mad dive. One got the man in the back, sending him rolling through the dirt. He flailed, the lanterns converged. One dove for his head, attaching itself, the light inside pulsing. The pulse slowed, dimmed, then gently warm to its original brightness. Gently it rose into the air, and the man with it. His weight seemed to make it difficult

for the lantern, but his feet were no longer touching the ground. He jerked and spasmed. His arms rose then fell weakly. His feet kicked, then dangled, levitating from it fully now. The man and the lantern began floating towards the gas station. As Bobby wiped off the sink and discarded the crumpled paper towels, the floor was still wet and would need an hour or so to dry. He pumped the paper towel dispenser for a final wipe down. It was empty. More work, he muttered. He found the key dangling from his belt and fished out the one for the supply cabinet in the bathroom. He fished out a roll of paper towels and put them in the dispenser. He pumped out one piece of paper for himself and left the other dangling for the next time someone used the bathroom. It would probably be himself.

As he walked out of the bathroom, a loud thud echoed on the ceiling above him. He jumped. Something was on the roof. A group of somethings by the sound of it. They were moving over the freezer section at the back of the store, raccoons. It happened last year too. A group of raccoons had come out from the forest and tried climbing in through the vents to get away from the heat. One had succeeded and needed to be fished out with a net by the local PD. Bobby leaned the mop against the wall between the closet and the refrigerator doors. Inside the closet, he retrieved a broom and walked over to where he had heard the thud. He scraped the handle across the ceiling and banged the vent a few times.

He had done this ever since the raccoon had gotten stuck whenever he heard rustling above the freezers. It must have worked too because no raccoon had ever gotten stuck again. After a few bangs, he had stopped and listened. The rustling continued. I really should have called out today, Bobby sighed. A raccoon had probably made its way into the vent

and he would have to go up onto the roof to confirm. He didn't so much mind the roof. oftentimes he would go up there when he knew for sure no one would be coming in to gaze at the stars, which was always. The latter was in the outdoor storage closet near the ice machine. He turned and let out a startling yelp. In front of him was the magazine stand, the gaudy, colorful covers all plastered with faces looking in different directions. It sat against the front windows, and there behind him was the man staring off into the sky. The man stood there, slack-jawed, wearing the most ridiculous hat Bobby had ever seen. His sudden materialization had surprised him. There was something clearly wrong with the man, other than the fact that he was

staring off into space outside a gas station, people rarely visited. Bobby had a run-in with a junkie two years prior. The guy had wandered up to the gas station, probably after hitchhiking, and just stood around the pumps. Bobby asked him if he needed anything, and the junkie just lost. And the junkie just laughed hysterically before falling into a fugue state beneath the lights. Pete, the local PD officer working whenever Bobby did, was usually asleep in the station or watching TV turned up way too loud. Bobby had to call four times to get a hold of him. Bobby took two steps forward and froze. There was definitely something wrong with the man. Now that he was closer, Bobby could see his jaw twitching up and down, as if he was trying to make words. He was twitching, and he was twitching, and

and his eyes were almost rolled back into his head. Not to mention, he had a nosebleed, the ear facing the window, and a small trickle from the corner of his mouth. Before darting for the phone, something in the distance caught Bobby's eye, the smoldering wreck of a car. Wonderful, Bobby thought, and dashed for the phone behind the counter. As he rounded it, he scowled. The scratching had gotten louder above the refrigerators.

The raccoons would have to wait. He ducked under the front counter to retrieve his phone from its charger and dialed the station. This is Pete, Bobby's phone. Hey Pete, it's Bobby down at the gas station. Hey, Bobby, what can I do for you? Pete mused. Bobby could hear the TV on in the background. Pete, I'm going to need some help over here.

Looks like a real bad car accident off England way in front of the station. Driver is here wandering around. Looks pretty beat up. He might be on something too. Ah, really? Pete muttered. Bobby could hear the seat he was in, Creek, as he sat up. Yeah, you may want to get on the phone with the Myers, in case anything in the field catches,

and definitely Zach for the toe. Plus, I think there's a raccoon in the vent again, so bring a net. And the kitchen sink? Pete asked, and hung up without another word. Bobby plugged his phone back into the charger. He grabbed the first aid kit nestled in the corner near his charge, charger's outlet and shuffled over to the front door. The man was where Bobby had left him, still staring absently at the sky. He was facing the opposite direction, and Bobby couldn't help

but stare at his hat. It was more like a plastic bag, really, but it had the most fantastic light display coming from inside, like a warm glow. Come to think of it, it looked an awful like a lantern you'd release over a lake with a candle inside. Bobby had done that once as a class project in grade school. Bobby wanted to help the man, but didn't want to get any closer if he was on something, so he wrapped his knuckles on the door's glass pane. Hey, he shouted, hey, do you need help? The man turned towards him, but Bobby shuddered. There was something off about the way he turned, not like a person turning around, but more of a rotation, like a cake on display down at the bakery. It reminded him of his aunt Carol's Lazy Susan that let her turn the TV to face wherever she was in her living room.

Do you need help? The man didn't move. He had clearly heard Bobby since he had turned so strangely, but he was making no real indication of responding to or even understanding what Bobby was asking. Come on, man, Bobby whispered. Then it caught his eye. The car was still tilted forward like a weird fence post in the day. distance, but there were lights dancing around it. Not like the ones you saw if you rubbed your eyes too hard, but more like those lanterns. He squinted. There was at least a dozen around the car

floating aimlessly. He spotted one in the corner of the parking lot, then two more at the pumps. He tilted his head and could make another floating past the corner of the building. He turned to see if there were any on the other side and screamed, dropping the first aid box and scattering its contents all over the welcome mat and making the bell chime in the store. The man was nose to nose with Bobby on the other side of the door. Something was definitely wrong with him. Even though they were nose to nose, the man's eyes were still looking upwards, his mouth hanging slack.

Damn man, you want something? Bobby shouted through the glass. The man gave no reply. Bobby knelt down to collect the first aid kit. It was one thing to deal with the car accident. another to deal with a bunch of trash floating around the station. But a junkie, too? Maybe he had been driving a car filled with Chinese lanterns.

I am definitely calling out tomorrow, Bobby muttered. He put the last band-aid in the box and closed it with a snap. Look, man, the local PD will be here any minute, so if you could just wait by your car, that would be... He stopped himself mid-sentence. He ran cold in shock. Bobby was still kneeling, but had raised his hand and saw, that the man wore only one shoe. The other may be having flown off in the wreck. He wondered

in that instant how the man had been able to sneak up on him in the front of the door. The welcome Matt Bell never rang. The man was floating. Floating was the wrong word. His feet had barely lift off the ground and were dangling, twitching every so often. Bobby forced himself to look up. He could see now that the man was floating mid-air. His arms turned slightly red. He wasn't floating. He was being lifted. The hat, it looked exactly like the lanterns he had seen floating around the property, but this one was on the guy's head, and it was pulsing. Not too much, but this close, Bobby could see it ripple and waver every so often. What he originally had thought, streamers hanging from a goofy hat seemed to grip the man's skin and pull it upwards,

some reaching nonchalantly in random directions. The man was being lifted by the lantern. Bobby noticed the man's neck muscles stretch from the weight of himself. Bobby took a careful step backwards away from the door. The man's hand went upwards, slamming into the glass. It stayed in place for a moment, then streaked downwards, creating a long vertical smudge. The man began whimpering. His face muscles began to twitch.

His nose danced like he had to sneeze. on the way, and his eyelids danced up and down. The corners of his mouth lifted and snagged, his jaw flipping open and closed like a fish. Oh, Ben, he croaked. Bobby took another step backwards. The man's hand slapped against the glass again, dragging down to his side. His face twitched again, softer this time. The words came easier, oh, Ben. Bobby wondered when Pete would get here. Pete had a weapon, but so did Bobby in case of emergencies. It was in a holster bolted under the front counter. He had never needed it and had been explicitly told to never use it on anything. He questioned whether he would need it now. A crash behind him snapped his attention away from the floating

man. The raccoon had come through the vent into the freezer, but the hair on Bobby's arms stood up and his heart jumped into his throat. There were no raccoons in the vents. It was the lantern. It drifted aimlessly behind the rows of drinks. Bobby followed the floating light. The vent crash had knocked over one of the freezer's shelves, scattering milk and butter across the floor. The door was still shut, but there was nothing between the lantern and him, other than glass now.

He walked away from the floating man. Open. There was a plastic hard case above a sunglass display to his right, filled with several knives of different color and size. It had never needed a lock, and Bobby was thankful for that now. Still staring at the lantern, Bobby fished a knife out of the display box and held it between him and the empty glass freezer door. It was a comical hot pink with flames. Bobby didn't care.

Whatever these lanterns had done to the man seemed painful. Bobby wasn't going to let it happen to himself. Bobby stepped closer to the glass and watched. The lanterns graced the floor, its tendrils, if that's what they were. were, gently swept around in every direction. Some of them would rise in the air and gently come to rest. Some touched the spilled milk and recoiled. The lantern bobbed and glided over to the door between Bobby and it. It was filled with light, like a shopping bag that they'd gave you at a local five and dime covering a lone light bulb. Bobby's hands began to shake, but he held the knife in front

of himself. Bending at the elbow, he got close enough to the glass. It happened very fast. so fast that Bobby fell backwards after the fact. Without warning, the lanterns reared backwards and lunged at the glass. The feelers spayed out in every direction. It had lunged at Bobby, but the glass held. He could see the underside of the lantern now, and it began shivering. It was filled with teeth and tendrils. The tendrils pulled at the glass.

The teeth were all facing in nondescript directions. There were mouths in there. They had no lips and were lined with more of those horrors. jagged teeth. They bobbed open and closed independently of each other. Bobby needed the weapon now. The lantern pulled away from the freezer door. Bobby shakily drew himself up to a crouch. The lantern slammed forward and Bobby nearly fell backwards again, jutting the weapon forward in front of him. The lantern repeated the motion. The freezer door popped open, then closed. The mop still leaned against the wall two refrigerator doors away. As the lantern reared back,

Bobby lunged towards it. He grabbed it with one hand and rammed it towards the refrigerator door handle. The lantern was faster, smashing forward and opening the door again. Bobby swung his hand out hard and caught it. The lantern was strong, strong enough to open the door from inside at least, but it had used momentum. There was no strength keeping it open now, and Bobby was able to close it quickly with relative ease.

He fumbled for a moment and then jabbed the broom handle between the three door handles, bearing the lantern inside. Bobby was lucky. Three more had just come through the broken ceiling. Damn, Bobby gasped weakly. He spun on his heels as he heard more banging from behind him. It had joined the floating man's slapping hand in a horrible chorus. The floating man had now started punching the window.

The lanterns didn't seem to have much control over his bodily functions yet, as he couldn't truly form a fist. It had mastered the slapping motion, however. and now the man's half-formed fist smashed repeatedly into the glass. It left small patches of red, which spattered more and more with each hit. Bobby could see the man's hand becoming bent and his fingers in the wrong ways. The floating man kept going. There was, however, a bigger problem.

Multiple lanterns had now latched themselves onto the front windows of the store, and were attempting to open them in the same way the lantern in the refrigerator had opened the door. Their teeth filled maws bared at the store, opening and closing in a maddening rhythm. Bobby wanted to look away. They drew themselves backwards and thrust it forwards, each at different times. Thudding into the windows, the glass would not hold for long. Bobby dashed for the front counter, just as the floating man's fist broke through the front door's glass and a spray of shards. He attempted to move through the opening, bumping into the rest of the door several times.

Bobby fumbled trying to unholster the weapon, afraid to take his eyes off the floating man. He had started to wildly swing both arms at the glass in an attempt to wipe away the obstruction, ruining the welcome mat on the floor. He was making progress. So were the other lanterns. The front window panes now bulged horribly inwards in numerous places. Bobby risked it. He bent his head down under the counter, found the weapon, and retrieved it from its holster. He heard what sounded like an explosion of glass. One of the windows had finally broken in. He ducked instinctively, ran out the side of the other corner, aimed his weapon.

Nothing happened. Damn it, Bobby screamed. His hands were shaking terribly now. He eyed the weapon frantically searching for the safety. He remembered all the cop shows that always had the stupid criminals forget to take the safety off. Right now, he wished it was the latter. The lanterns which had shattered the window were thankfully still stuck on it, but three more were slowly floating through the wide gap.

The floating man had successfully cleared the way of the glass of the front door too, and was now gliding through. Bobby found the safety, flipped it, re-armed, and fired. The first one went wide and threw a bag of chips near the front door. It exploded, sending snacks into the air. It kicked harder than Bobby had imagined it would. He replanted his feet, took aim again, and fired off three more. The first got the floating man.

He stopped, rocking back and forth softly from it, then began to slowly advance forward again, his feet grazing the shattered glass shards on the floor with a sound like twinkling stars. The second one had also missed its mark, sending magazines tumbling off the shelf. The third got one of the lanterns still stuck to the glass center mass. It popped like a bubble, sending neon blue liquid across the overturned window.

Bobby's hair stood on end. Taking out the lantern had caused a strange electricity to fill the room, like a soft buzzing. More lanterns had grouped outside and were moving towards the store. The three lanterns nearest the window had now began wafting inside. Bobby started moving towards the bathroom. He could use the back door, but there was no telling how many were out there. A quick glance toward the refrigerator showed a total of six lanterns that had come through the front roof. They were having trouble reaching the glass and still had product in them,

but their tendrils were reaching between the bottles and attempting to find purchase. Bobby moved faster. He turned back towards the front windows and ducked just in time to see the lantern whizz over his head. He aimed quickly and fired several more blind shots toward the lanterns while reaching for the bathroom door. He heard two of the lanterns explode in a sickening pop. the buzzing filled the air again. Bobby thrust his hand out, gripping the bathroom door handle, threw it open. In one motion, he spun into the bathroom, aimed and fired one more shot. The floating man was making his way down the row of the bathroom supplies directly toward him.

The shot was missed, striking a small travel pillow sending feathers through the air. The floating man went through them, a few sticking to his shirt and some to the lantern on his head. Bobby's eyes went wild. The store was filled with lanterns now, and more were filling the front windows, front door, and refrigerator. He was surrounded. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see several lanterns rearing back for a charge. He dropped the weapon, sending it across the floor, and slammed the door shut.

He reached out to hammer in the sliding lock when the door pushed him backwards. He slid to his feet. The lanterns had charged, hitting the door before he could close. slamming it inwards and nearly off its hinges. Bobby leaned back and rammed his shoulder forward, slamming into the door. He was thankful the lanterns didn't seem to have strength outside of their initial lunge. The lanterns on the other side of the heavy door reached their tentacles around. Bobby was too quick.

He jabbed the door into its frame. The tentacles flailed wildly, then came to rest. It looked as though streamers had gotten caught in the door. Bobby turned both the deadbolt and sliding lock and took a step backwards. He took in a ragged, slow breath. Three more lantern slammed into the door. Bobby stumbled backwards, slipping onto the still-wet tile, and hit his head on the sink with a wet thunk.

He fell to the floor, landing on his back. The door had shattered, but the locks held. The door slammed two more times. For how long? Bobby's head hurt. He reached his hand back, running it through his hair. His hand was hard to focus on when he put it in front of his face. Three more lanterns hit the door.

A screw from the top lock flew out, bouncing next to Bobby. Bobby looked down at the weapon in his hand, took some time, and he found the eject button for the magazine and checked it. Only two left. The door shuddered again. Another screw popped loose. Bobby rested his head against the cool sink. Something was wrong, but he wasn't quite sure what. He heard sirens. They were getting closer. Bobby tried to stand, but still slick, he was unable to find the footing. A steady pounding had jolted the chorus of rammings against the bathroom door. The floating man was out there. Bobby slid further under the desk. The door was starting to bend inwards. First one. Then two tendrils began sneaking into the crack between the door and its frame.

Three more slams. The steady pounding was getting louder, both on the door and in Bobby's head. The sirens were blaring. Were they outside? Bobby thought he could hear voices. He heard a shot, a scream. He could hear Officer Pete yelling out someone else's name. Was it Zax?

There was shots now. Steady and controlled. Another scream. The fire continued, but somehow it seemed less now. Bobby kept his eye locked on the bathroom door. It was still hard for him to focus. He could see the floating man. The door had started to bend inwards on the top right corner.

The floating man seemed to be staring towards him. His arm shot forward through the gap, slapping wildly at the door. Was he looking for the lock? Open, he rasped. Bobby raised the weapon. His arm was heavy. He closed one eye and tried to aim at the lantern on the floating man's head.

Bobby smiled weakly. It really did look like a ridiculous hat. He pulled the trigger. For a moment, Bobby thought nothing happened. It had missed its mark, but not entirely. The floating man's hand had been hit, but to Bobby, it made no sound. The arm hung there, now dangling bent over the opening.

Had he stopped? The door continued to shudder as other lanterns pounded against it. Bobby heard Pete enter the store. The door had chimed. He had heard him scream something. Was it at something or because of something? Bobby couldn't tell. Was that his name?

He heard more shots. One of them dented the bathroom door. Bobby could see the protrusion like a small pimple. Three more than a muffled scream. Silence. Bobby looked down at his weapon and back towards the door. The floating man's arm had began to move again. his forearms wiped helplessly at the door's locks.

It left streaks of crimson. Bobby squinted. Something was moving behind the floating man. Another floating man. Did it look like Zach? Bobby couldn't tell. He looked down at the weapon again. The door continued shaking on its frame.

The steady pounding had doubled now. The thunderous slams of individual lanterns peppered the air in the chaotic chorus of noise. The top locked, shot out with the last screw. The deadbolt was holding, but the door had began to bend inwards at a faster rate, both above and below the bolt now. He had no way out. The lanterns outside had doubled before he had gotten into the bathroom. How many were there now? His help had come. It had gone. Bobby did not want to be a lantern's puppet like the floating man,

probably like Zach now. Also Pete. He could see the additional floating men behind the one missing his hand. It was like they were in line waiting for the bathroom. They were in line waiting for him. I should have called out of work, Bobby chuckled.