Lighthouse Horror Podcast - I Work As A Cable Guy In The Strangest Town In The World | Scary Stories

Episode Date: September 1, 2023

Things are getting very strange lately... Story from Jordan Grupe Make sure to check out more of their work at u/Jgrupe                       Original Post: (Part 1) I'm a cable guy in the world's creepiest little town, Hollow's End.. : r/nosleep                            Original YouTube link: I Work As A Cable Guy In The Strangest Town In The World      For more stories like this one, check out my YouTube channel: Lighthouse Horror | YouTube  Patreon: Lighthouse Horror | Patreon Merch: lighthousehorror.com  Sound Effects: Freesound Zapsplat  Music: Lucas King - YouTube Myuu - YouTube  Incompetech Thank you for listening to this scary story! If you enjoyed this new creepypasta story, please check out some of my other horror stories. We'll be uploading new scary stories, new true stories, and new creepypasta stories every day!

The little town I live in is really closer to a village in terms of its size. We're not near any major freeways. We're located deep in the woods, far north of any cities or towns you would have heard of. I say that the place is creepy only by the standards of the general public, which I observe on TV. Since my family has lived here for generations, it's normal enough to me. I watch a lot of TV. As a cable guy, it's kind of a prerequisite.

The big cable company, which supplies the cable service in town, doesn't like to send its people in too often. There's been too many accidents. So I've pretty much got a monopoly on installations and service calls in town. I don't get a lot of business, since most of the residents are very old, they don't have much use for internet or cable TV. Occasionally I'll recruit my brother if I need a hand on a busy day. In the summer, we get the occasional nosy tourist who heard about the place from a website

or a friend. We try to keep them blind to what happens here, but things get past us sometimes, feeding the rumors online more and more. We've had more tourists in the summer months lately, and they don't always return from their trip to Hollow's End. Of course, that's not the real name. I'd never tell you that, as it would only feed the rumor mill. let me assure you, it is equally malevolent sounding.

I'm sure the name only stokes the fires of the public's burning curiosity about the place. But there's no changing what we are. Although I've lived here all my life, I never quite know what I'll walk into during most of my service calls. Those who live in town keep to themselves, and they keep their secrets close. As much as I like to believe, I know what's going on in my own backyard. I have only vague suspicions and rumors to rely on for the most part. However, being a cable technician, you do gain access to people's houses, and as such,

see the side of them residing there that few others see. Not everyone cleans up when the cable guy visits. The town's residents no longer call the cable company when they have a problem. They call me directly. I call the cable company myself if I have to, and ask them for whatever assistance. I need. Occasionally we need to call in the cable company's maintenance crew, who eventually make their way into town to fix the trunk line should it have noise issues or damage from a storm. Occasionally, an amplifier will need to be replaced, or, God forbid, a tap.

As strange as my little hometown is, and I'll get to the specifics of that soon enough. It's gotten far weirder around here lately. There's something going on which has prompted me to begin In this journal, I think about the metaphor of a frog dropped into a pot of boiling water and jumping out. How if the water is cool when he gets in, and it's heated gradually, he'll slowly boil to death. I think I'm the frog in the lukewarm pot of water that is hollow's end. The recent strangeness started when a large storm front passed through recently, knocking

down a handful of cable lines and creating a lot of extra work from me and my brother, who I had to call in for assistance. Storms passed through here a lot, and more recently they've been almost constant. This makes life difficult, as we're surrounded by trees, and branches tend to fall down in high winds. We were over at the sister's house, and they were desperate for us to get their Wi-Fi back up and running. I'd check the signal level and found it was dead at the POE, point of entry. I went outside and found the culprit to be a collapsed tree, which had brought down the big RG-11 line coming into the back of the house from the telephone pole. The large down tree had been reported to me by the sisters when I first

arrived, and I had a feeling it was the source of the trouble. They were eager to get the Wi-Fi back up and running for their weekly Coven meeting. They were broadcasting via Zoom for the immunocompromised members of the group. I got out in the backyard and saw the sister's garden was blooming brilliantly as usual. Tomato plants loomed over me, ten and twelve feet high, despite the fact that it was only June. Cornstalks resembling small trees lined one section. These were almost liable to fall over and bring down a cable line one of these days, I mused myself, only half jokingly. The sister's black cat followed me around the big backyard as I did my inspection, ready to report to the sisters if I touched anything I wasn't supposed to.

I walked farther back with her at my heels and got to the point of the garden where the telephone pole stood. They carried power, phone lines, and coaxil cable lines, so I had to check for voltage before proceeding any further. No sense wasting more time now if the power company needed to be called first anyways, I thought. I walked up and pulled out the voltage meter for my tool bag, which I carried with me everywhere. It was full of useful things and very heavy. I walked up and held out the voltage meter, checking the base of the telephone pole for stray voltage. The little light shone green, indicating there was no voltage present. I could hang a new RG11 and code a 16 into our system, since the line was over 200 feet long. A cool 25 bucks,

not to mention the $20 for the initial service call. It was shaping up to be a lucrative of morning. This would take an hour at most. I turned around to head back to my van and stopped cold. The plants at the back of the garden, far off to my left, weren't looking good at all. There was a patch of malicious black rot spreading from a central point, which looked vile, full of hatred, and bubbling at its core. What the hell is that? I said to myself. I looked over at the sister cat who'd been following me. It was growling a low, deep, guttural sound, then hissing at the strange black spot. It stopped abruptly and stood there, listening for a moment. Then it abandoned me and ran back to the house. I looked closer at the bubbling blackness at the

center of the spreading disease, or whatever it was. It gave off an unpleasant feeling, sending shivers down my spine. I saw a vainy eye open up in the tarry center of it. The eye stared at me briefly, with its red maliciousness, and blinked, then disappeared again. Not good. Not good at all. The sisters ran out a minute later. They looked with grave concern at the black spot growing at the back of their garden. They conversed for a minute, then came over to me. You should not be here for this." The two said in unison. We have to call the other sisters. This evil cannot be dispelled by just the two of us. I was a bit disappointed, but only a bit. Changing a 200-foot aerial cable in a hundred-degree weather isn't much fun, kids, let me tell you. I would just come back

another day to do it. Whenever the sisters told me it was safe to come back. You know, I saw an eye in the middle of that thing. I told him. What color was it? One said. Did it see you? Did it see your face? Said the other. It was red. Yeah, it looked right at me. It saw me. I gathered my thoughts. Should I be worried? Yes. They answered the question in unison again, sending shivers up my spine. Is there anything I can do? I asked, suddenly sweating heavily. Pray to your God we can kill it if you wish. And with that, they went back to the house, and I followed quickly behind them.

Things haven't been going well since that day, and the sisters haven't called to say they're ready for me to come back, meaning that horrible blackness is still growing, getting bigger day by day. Part of me needs to go back to see how far it's spread, but I'm worried if I get there and I see it. Will it see me? Maybe I should listen to the sisters and just stay away. I haven't been sleeping much since my last service call at the sisters' house last week. Every time I close my eyes now, I see a red unblinking eye about the same size and shape

as the one I saw that day. the after image of a flash bulb burnt into my retinas. It visits me in my dreams and haunts me every time I blink. I try to forget it's there, but I'm reminded of it constantly. It never leaves me alone, just sits there on the backs of my eyelids waiting for its chance to peek at me again. I've started to avoid blinking as much as possible to avoid it, causing my eyes to become irritated and sore. But it's better than seeing that eye all the time. It's spooky. The sisters still haven't called or reached out to say they're ready for me to return to complete my service call. No one's seen

them around town at all, or any of the other sisters, for that matter. The coven was typically very involved in the local community. The weekly farmer's market they ran was a mainstay of the town. No one from the group showed up to sell veggies this week in the town square. today to make my way back to the sisters' house. I had to see if they were okay. They'd always been good to me. If I saw a spreading black mass of malicious intent heading from the field towards me, full of red evil eyes and teeth, I'd just hightail it out of there. I got to the street where the sisters lived. They had a few acres with no neighbors nearby, so it was secluded and quiet. My windows were rolled down due to the heat of the day, currently at its peak.

in the early afternoon. Another sunny, 100-plus degree day. It seemed to be either that or thunderstorms lately. Yin or Yang. I'd stopped for longer than I needed to at the stop sign, lost in my thoughts. Just as I was about to start moving, a black cat jumped up through my window and ran into my car. The unspoken voice which filled my head sounded like a shout from an angry, gruff, middle-aged man. I looked over and saw the black cat staring at me intently, the scars across his face, distinguishing him as scratches, one of the sister's many black cats. Only scratches was special. At this point, you must surely think I'm insane or outright lying about all this. Welcome to Hollow's End. Shit that shouldn't be real. Well, that's just another

Tuesday here. Screw you. I'm only 32. And if I'm gruff and angry, it's because there's a damn field full of evil black lava shit back there. Now drive. Before I could even fully form my next thought, I heard the bastard cats retort in my head. They're dead.

The sisters are all dead. Every last one of them. Now can we please get the hell out? hell out of here!" I looked past him and saw why he was in such a hurry. A black tendril of oily shadow was creeping its way toward us from the grass at the side of the road. Thicker globs of what looked like crude oil or hot tar approached beside it, and all around

it, forming a line of growing black evil which was flowing slowly like lava towards town. A passerby from out of town might have seen it and thought, Hmm, I guess a crude oil pipeline must have burst. I knew better. I had seen the eye, and it had seen me. I didn't hesitate any longer, and I stepped on the gas. I looked behind me in the rearview mirror and saw the blackness was still flowing steadily. Trees had begun to fall over in the wake of its decay.

We need to call a town meeting. Whatever that is, it's out of control." Scratches sat there staring at me. His deeply scarred face was dirty and covered in mud, as was the rest of him. He smelled terrible. Hey, screw you, asshole, and screw the town meeting. We're going to see the butcher. You know it's the only thing to do.

Ugh, the butcher. I shuddered, thinking about the last time I'd been to his place. The rats, the roaches, the never-ending stink of blood and entrails. He had a point though. If anyone could solve this problem, it was him. I drove west towards town and floored it, accelerating as quickly as the disorganized pile of heavy junk in the back of my van would allow. I looked in my mirror again and saw the black stuff was spreading slowly and steadily, about

halfway across the road now. Scratches looked exhausted, and even his thoughts sounded tired and disjointed once we were safely away. He laid down on the passenger seat and fell asleep instantly, his leg twitching occasionally as he chased mice in slumberland. The town came into sight as we came over a rise, and I proceeded down Main Street towards the butcher's shop. We pulled up out front, and I saw a few pigs turned inside out, hanging from the hooks in the front window, flies buzzing around them as they swayed slightly. The butcher could be seen inside, hacking away at something with a cleaver. Blood spray was flying up into his face and everywhere, splattering the walls behind him

and the ceiling above. He didn't look up as I came into the shop, just continued hacking away. with a heavy cleaver, it was enormous and looked too heavy for me to lift. The head of the cleaver was the size of a large encyclopedia. The butcher brought it up and down easily and effortlessly, with his giant arms, dividing a primal cut of something into manageable pieces meant for sale. In the back freezer, I knew he had plenty of cuts you wouldn't find at any grocery store. Hollow's End specials.

Sisters couldn't stop it, huh? He spoke in a thunderous baritone. That's right. I was just there. Scratches and I barely got away. You took that asshole cat with you. Why? You know what he is.

I considered and decided not to explain myself. No one deserved to be killed. killed by that vile shit. Can you help us or not? It's headed this way. It'll take out your shop the same as everything else. He looked up from his meat, set down his cleaver, and wiped his hands off on a bloody towel he'd tucked into his apron.

He seemed to consider for a moment whether his shop being destroyed meant anything to him. The butcher was famously non-materialistic and known for his stoicism. You assume it can be killed. You assume too much. Same as the sisters. I don't understand. If we can't kill it, how do we stop it? You have to kill the source of it.

This thing is not natural. It was created by someone. Someone here. In Hollow's End. Who would do that? Who would create something so evil?" The butcher shrugged. He looked at me and pointed with his giant cleaver.

You're the one to check. You go around. Tell everyone you're doing a free service upgrade or something. Polk around and try to find this sick son of a bitch. I'll take care of the rest. He went back to his work again, as if he did. just asked for the simplest thing in the world. How was I supposed to find this mad scientist? Where do mad scientists even live? Do they have cable or do they use satellite? Heathens.

I got back into my van and saw I now had an upgrade call pending on my computer screen's work list. The appointment was showing red, indicating I was somehow already late, despite the fact that the job hadn't even been on my screen five minutes ago. I silently cursed the dispatcher and took out my phone to call the number on the screen. At least this was going to check one house off my list of potential suspects. I could poke around and ask a few questions at this house as well, see if this guy knew anything useful. The disgruntled voice of an older man picked up the phone. Hi, yeah, this is Jerome with the cable company. I was just about to head over to your place to set you up with your new modem. Is it all right if I head over now? That isn't right at all. They told me they

were going to give me internet. You know, I am so sick of your company. I swear to God if you sons of bitches didn't have a monopoly out here. I tried to explain that we were going to get him internet, and that's what the modem did. But he just told me to get my ass over there and hurry up, since I was already late as it was. He then abruptly hung up. I was left feeling slightly annoyed, but only slightly. I was used to ignorant people berating me and ignoring my sensible attempts to educate them.

It was amazing how many people still didn't know that internet was not something floating in the ether, that Wi-Fi needed a connection via cable to a larger system to function. Those same people thought that as a cable guy, it was your job to set up their printer, their new laptop they don't know how to use, and set up an email address for them. All because they finally decided to join the Electronic Revolution. Of course, none of these things are things we are paid for or are trained to do.

I tried to politely GTFO. I drove up to the address, which was Northwest, just a little ways out of the time. town. It had been a slow day, so dispatch had started to get creative with my service area. I was headed north of the black stuff, which I kept a lookout for on my right, paranoid its spread, could have quickened. When I arrived at the house, I saw it was a simple bungalow, with a big country lawn and a large black pickup truck parked out front, which appeared brand new. I saw a second driveway past the house led further into the property, where several large large trucks were parked near a large warehouse. They looked like oil tankers. Alarm bells began

to ring in my head. Oil tankers would mean oil, and there were no oil fields nearby. But that black stuff did look like crude oil almost, except with the addition of evil red eyes that haunted your dreams. I backed my van into the driveway and parked. I put out my useless orange traffic cones, which were mandated by company policy to be used during service calls. One out in front of the left tire and one behind to the right. To protect the van and ward off something. I grabbed my work bag and put my tool belt on. I pulled a fresh modem out of the back and brought it up to the front door with me. The house was old but well maintained. The owner was an odd man who kept to himself and only came into town for necessities. The warehouse out back, the second driveway, the tankers,

those were all new. I'd never seen them before. It was as if they'd sprung up overnight, although it had been at least a month since I'd been up this way, maybe more. This sent the alarm bells ringing in my head into a full-blown wailing siren with the big red flashing lights. Hollow's End is a simple town in many ways. There isn't a lot of money, money here. Someone knew was in town, and they were supplying this man, Bill Waterton, according to his account info, with a lot of money and equipment. But for what? I knocked on the door, and the man who answered was dressed in blue jeans and a clean white t-shirt. He did not appear to be happy to see me. Hello, sir. We spoke on the phone. My name's Jerome. I'm a cable technician for

I know who you are. Just get in here. I walked into his house and asked where he wanted the modem to be set up. I explained it needed to be in a central location to reach all areas of the house, since this one had a built-in wireless router. He seemed to understand that and directed me to his office. There wasn't a cable connection in there, so I explained I would need to drill down to the basement through the floorboards. I wasn't about to start fishing a cable line, creating a wall out for this guy. We don't get paid to do that anyways, since it's much more difficult and time-consuming. He agreed, and pointed to a spot in the corner behind a plant, where a hole

would not be visible in the wooden floorboards. I went out and grabbed my drill, and the two-foot-long drill bid I had for such purposes. I was trying to think of a way to get to this guy's boss. I had a sudden brainstorm and tried to act as casual as possible when I was back inside conversing with him after the job was done. So this internet's fast, right? Like, am I going to be able to watch a movie without it doing that spinny, bloating thing all the time? The man asked. Buffering. Yeah, it'll give you 500 megabytes, which should definitely be fast enough to stream a movie or a YouTube video.

You know, by the way, I'm trying to spread the word about this. We're doing upgrades for a huge discount if you're referred through an existing customer, and I'd also give you $20 cash right now. A referral bonus. Do you know anyone who would want a cheap upgrade on their internet to give them a faster connection? I hope this didn't sound too fishy. He looked at me suspiciously for a second. Then smiled. You know, my boss was saying that his internet was saying that his internet that is way slower here than where he used to live. He told me not to go around talking about him. He's real private-like.

But I think he'd be all right with this. Let me call him. He lives just right up that gravel road, got him a nice pre-fab house up there, sprung that thing up practically overnight, dropped in by big helicopters, believe it or not. The puzzle pieces were beginning to fit together. Slowly. Now I just had to find out how this all related to the insanity that had sprung a leak out in the sisters' fields. You know, I think it's best I call him, don't you? That way, he doesn't have to know you even said anything. How's that? I took a crisp 20

and held it out to him. He took it and nodded. Pleasure doing business with you. He said, I left the house and headed back to the van. No way was I going in there. I was going back to town for backup. It was time to get the butcher. When I got back to town, the sun was just beginning to set. The butcher was closing up his shop and seemed to be anticipating me as I pulled up to the curb in front of his shop. He opened my passenger door and dropped his giant, hulking body into the seat uninvited. Scratches leapt out of the way, waking up from his nap in an instant. His cat reflexes saving him, from being crushed to death. The butcher weighed easily 350 pounds. The van drooped to the right

with the weight of his body, shaking the whole van as it seesawed back and forth with his bulk. Good job. You found him quick. Let's go kill the son of a bitch. I'm a little worried. It looks like there's only one way in around. He might be expecting us. We might need backup. He looked me me in the eyes, measuring my words. His skin was puckered in red around the scars which criss-crossed his eyes and arms. His entire body looked like it had been stitched together in pieces. No one knew where the scars were from, but there were plenty of rumors. Good idea. He said. Can never be too careful. This is a dangerous character we're dealing with. Better call in

the cavalry. Why don't you do a lap around town square?" He told me what he wanted to do, and I began to honk my horn and drive slowly around the town square. The butcher rolled down his window and yelled out in his loud, baritone voice. Citizens of Hollow's End, we are under attack. Gather at Town Hall for further instructions. He shouted this again and again. I began to see people emerging from their houses in the gathering darkness. A lone man, impossibly tall, dressed in a dapper suit with a tall hat, strode with purpose towards the town square.

His eyes glowed like embers. He nodded at us and continued forward. I recognized him as Verdun, the town mortician. A woman who appeared slightly seethru, walked alongside Steve, the town barber. I saw a couple of tourists pop their head out of the cafe, but unseen shadowy figures pulled them back inside quickly. Their faces covered with chloroform doused rags. By the time we stopped in the town square, there was about a hundred shadowy figures milling about the place. More were filtering in by the moment. A pair of twins,

young girls, dressed in Victorian-era clothing, walked together holding hands and joined the crowd. Their teeth were long, sharp, and pointed, as they chatted excitedly to each other. Their eyes were black, and their faces fish-like. I looked at the crowd we'd assembled. It was quite a rag-tag team. But we'd get the job done. We all love this town too much to see it destroyed by some rich, entitled, the asshole outsider. I told them all as much, explaining about the wall of evil lava flowing

toward town from the sister's place. People began to talk, and I had to stop briefly until the place quieted down. Everyone was chattering excitedly with nervous voices. If we kill this outsider, it will stop the evil from spreading. The butcher's voice silenced everyone. And the butcher's voice silenced everyone. They all looked at him. He was the pseudo leader of the town. We didn't have a mayor. We had the butcher.

Then we'll go to his place and kill him. Someone shouted from the back of the crowd. Oh, I wouldn't count on that, my friends. We all looked around for the source of the voice. It sounded like an old man, wise with age and experience. A man used to getting his way. A drone descended from the sky. into the midst of us, a loud voice echoed from it.

Those who attempt to follow these pathetic fools into battle will be killed alongside them. Your deaths will be slow. They will be painful. I ask you all, leave this town now. It belongs to me as of today. Choose to stay and fight. You'll die. surrender your town to me and run away children the voice was arrogant and condescending someone picked up a rock and threw it at the drone it fell from the sky into the crowd and when it landed it exploded with a fiery blast that killed a dozen or more townspeople in an instant even more were wounded and taken from the fight before could even begin. Clearly we had underestimated our opposition. A harsh, mocking laugh came from the sky, and I looked up and saw an even larger drone flying up there. It flew away silently, back towards the northeast, and was gone. I surveyed the carnage in the town square.

Bibbins, the local fruit stand operator, was laying on the ground near my feet. The top half of them anyways. Blood sputtered and sprayed from his lips as he reached down to feel for legs that were no longer there. His intestines hung from the charred and mangled remains of his belly. Blood spurred into the air from an artery. His slack horse face lost its life as his head hung to the side and he died looking into my eyes. I saw the twins, or just there, Their hands, I should say, still intertwined, hanging from a high tree branch like a sick Christmas ornament. The barber, our version of a town doctor, had his hands full.

The old man was already comforting a guy with small horns, who I recognized as Jonathan, the clerk from the general store. He had a large piece of something long and sharp impaled through him. His eyes looked frantic. poured from his mouth in rivulence. The worst thing of all, though, was that I looked down and saw scratches breathing shallowly at my feet. He was breathing intermittently and looking up at me.

Blood ran from his ears and was dried in his fur. I was too angry to cry for my friend, as I saw he was dying. The cat and I had always shared a special bond. I was the only one who could hear him and had never told anyone. about it. The sisters hadn't even known. Maybe I was just hallucinating all these years. The thought had occurred to me. After all, it had been years since I'd taken my anti-psychotics. I lied. The sisters, they're still alive. I'm a coward. I ran away. They're still there for all I know, fighting for their lives.

We're going to kill that son of a bitch, I said. Scratches didn't hear it, though. He was already gone. Dark clouds began to roll in from the northeast, as if on cue. Fat raindrops came down, slowly at first, then in torrents. Thunder boomed in the dark sky as I heard the wails of dying townspeople all around me. Faces that Faces that I'd known all my life were unrecognizable around me, mutilated by the explosion of C4 or whatever the bastard had rigged to blow on his drone when it crashed. I found the butcher.

He was pulling a chunk of shrapnel out of his shoulder. Blood was all over his hands, being washed away by the heavy rain. We spoke for a minute and decided what we'd have to do. He stood up on the pedestal, which had been the base of a sea. statue of his great-grandfather, now mangled by the explosion. Let's go kill that bastard. He raised his heavy cleaver high in the air, and the remaining town folk raised their own weapons above their heads.

Knives, swords, barber straight razors, scythe and axes were held high in the rain, and my heart felt full of pride and dull. all anger as their voices rose up into the air in a war cry, drowning out the thunder. The people of Hollow's End had vengeance burning in their eyes, as we made our way east of town, a convoy of mostly old and beat-up vehicles leading toward a mansion none of us had ever seen. We'd only grown in numbers since the explosion. The loners and shy folk on the outskirts of town had been drawn in by the sound.

of the big boom in the town square shadow people usually elusive and private had come out of the sewers and joined the crusade to save the town at the front of the pack was the butcher in his giant black work truck thick black diesel smoke billowed from twin exhaust stacks as his engine roared setting the frantic mad max pace of the group surrounding him were several bikers driving harleys howling like and brandishing long knives, guns, and crossbows. Their melted faces were concealed by their dark-tinted helmets. They'd been close to the explosion, but they were tough, sons of bitches. I rode behind them, followed by a swarm of other cars, a hearse, an ice cream truck, a school bus,

you name it. We drove through the driving rain in crashing thunder and the dark black of night. I looked to the south. My eyes searching for the black ooze to seep under the road at any moment, I could only guess at how far it had spread. My thoughts drifted to the weird ooze. The butcher had said it was created by the rich bastard, but I wasn't so sure. I thought it looked like crude oil at times.

Maybe that was what it actually was. The tanker seemed to confirm that suspicion. Why else would he have them, if not to transport that vile black shit somewhere? I thought of Hollow's End, a bit like the Bermuda Triangle, or one of those other places you hear of where the laws of physics and reality are thin and flimsy. Perhaps it had always been like that here. And the dinosaurs and prehistoric plants which made up the crude were special too, just like us.

The boundaries between worlds waned a bit in places like Hollow's End. Maybe. Just maybe. That black stuff had some power to it. something that could do more than power a car. What if that fuel, when refined, could open a hole between worlds, raise the living from the dead, or create thunderstorms from a beautiful sunny day? Perhaps that fuel could be used to build a weapon that could do a lot more damage than plutonium.

I shuddered at the thought. We pulled up to the house, and I saw the customer from my service call earlier was standing out front waiting for us, a determined look on his face. He held the shotgun and was pointing it at the butcher, his finger ready to squeeze the trigger as the giant truck bore down on him. A bolt suddenly appeared in the man's chest, and he dropped his shotgun before he could get a shot off. I saw Gregory the old hunter pull the bolt from his chest without even slowing down as he drove past on his harling. He bounced over the bump at the entrance to the truck. driveway leading the charge. I got a bit worried as his engine roared and he sped a little bit

too far ahead of us, trying to ambitiously scout ahead. I wish there was some way to communicate with him, to tell him to be careful, to look out for traps. But it was too late. I heard a loud crash as he dropped out of view, disappearing into the road. As we pulled closer, we saw a pit had been dug and disguised as roadway. The bottom of the pit was lined with filthy spikes, which had impaled Gregory through his leg. He howled in pain and cursed. A couple of cars pulled to the side of the road to help, and our numbers dwindled a bit more. As we approached the warehouse, it looked deserted. It appeared that the rich man's workers hadn't been willing to stay and fight his battle for him. Or perhaps they were just waiting for us up at the

mansion. Armed to the teeth, I thought. We had to drive awkwardly around a tanker which was blocking the roadway. There was no other way through. Our caravan moved slowly through the narrow section. My heart was hammering so loudly I could hear it in my ears. I was worried there could be another trap anywhere. Our part of the group was past the tanker when I heard the explosion. I turned back to see a fireball billowing up in the sky, warming my feet. face as I looked out the window. I thought to myself that these things only happen in the movies, but then I looked down and saw the carnage, and it felt all too real again. The explosion had been timed to inflict the most destruction, as I saw that a large portion of our town had

been killed. More were tending to the wounded, and others still were trapped behind the inferno, unable to proceed further until it was extinguished. I saw a body of the wounded. parts lying scattered everywhere. A decapitated head rolled towards me from the flames, blood spurting from the neck. It stopped rolling facing my direction, about ten feet away, and I recognized the face immediately to be Vardoon, the town mortician. Those of us who were left got out of our vehicles and rallied around the butcher, weapons in hand. We'll go on foot from here, said the The butcher, his stoicism was on full display as he showed neither anger nor sadness. He looked each of us in the eye.

I'd ask if any of you are scared, if any of you want to turn around and go back. But I can see from your faces that would be pointless. That being said, I have no delusions about us all surviving this. This, he's clearly prepared for us. We might all die long before we reach him." None of us said anything. We looked at him resolutely. He nodded his head once, turned around, and began to march.

We followed like fresh recruits and rag-tag formation up the gravel road, the butcher leading the way. He had sharp eyes and spotted several turns. traps, which we managed to avoid. A bear trap snatched one of the bikers' feet at one point, just as the butcher was about to tell him to watch out, but it was too late. He lay there screaming at the side of the road, giving away our location to the defenders and the mansion, which was now visible looming up ahead. As we got closer and the area opened up, the hunters fanned out, searching for centuries. I heard screams from the trees as their sharp,

The sharp eagle eyes picked out the invisible shapes in the shadowy tree line, killing them swiftly with their simple bows and crossbows, before the guards could get more than a few shots off. We lost one or two more and left their lifeless bodies on the gravel road as we continued marching forward in the rain. Thunder and lightning still crashed overhead. Occasionally a lightning bolt would hit something not too far off and the ground would shake with the impact. We reached the rod-iron gates of the mansion, and the butcher rattled his huge steel cleaver against them, the loud ringing vibrations echoing into the distance. We're here for you, you son of a bitch. Come on out and take your medicine. The voice we'd heard in the town square began to laugh again, coming from the intercom to our left. Good luck getting in here, you fools. I see there's not so many of you as there was before.

Did you lose a few of your friends along the way? He began to sing off-key. Little dirty freaks, hiding in your hovels. I make a big bad boom and you get out your shovels. He started to laugh at his own song. He thought he had a son. beat. The problem for him was this place, hollow's end, made us special. We each had our own talents. Mine was that I could make connections. I could troubleshoot problems, much better

than the average cable technician. I pulled the faceplate off the intercom with my flathead screwdriver and looked at the configuration of cables. I had several tools in my tool belt, which I'd obtained through, let's just say, black market dealers. I opened up another electrical box nearby, and within a few minutes, I heard the buzz of the electrified fence cease. I opened another metal box and played around inside for a little while. The lock clicked open, and the gate swung a jar. We were in.

His laughter abruptly stopped. I heard him screaming obscenessing. from inside the mansion. We walked forward into the courtyard and stormed the front door, picking up a stone bench and using it to smash our way in. I heard something from up above, but it was too late. Something large and heavy fell, crushing three of my comrades. Boiling oil poured out and steamed on the ground. It covered our friends, and we watched in horror as their faces melted. Revealing the stark white bone. beneath as their screams turned to shrieks of pure agony.

I looked up from the entrance, and I saw the bastard for the first time, up on the top of the stairs, looking down at us. He was a short, thin man, old and balding with gold-rimmed glasses and holding a fancy-looking cane. He held a big gold handgun in his other hand, which he began to fire at us, missing with each shot. He looked like he was alone. His eyes were searching frantically, as if there was no one else around here to protect him, and he was terrified of being flanked somehow.

Maybe none of his underlings had stuck around after all. Perhaps the troops had abandoned the general when he'd ordered them to fire on their own people. It wouldn't be the first time such a thing had turned the times of war. We took cover as he continued to fire, but he quickly ran out of bullets. I heard him struggling to reload and nodded at another one of the hunters. Hilda, the sharp-eyed wife of Gregory, nodded back. Her eyes had a fire in them. She clearly wanted revenge for her husband, whose leg wound had looked gruesome after he fell

into the pit of spikes. She readied her crossbow, took a deep breath, let it out, and stood up. Her eyes looked intently through the sights of her weapon. and she aimed for the man who had caused so much ruin. The bolt was released, and time seemed to slow to a crawl as it flew through the air. It hit the man at the top of the stairs and the neck, and he screamed out in pain, dropping his oversized pistol. It fell down the stairs, the clip still not reloaded.

We marched up the lush, expensive-looking crimson carpet which lined the stairs. Fine embroidery could be seen leading up. And I couldn't help but marvel at its complexity. Everything in the mansion looked expensive and overpriced. The heads of large exotic game animals lined the walls everywhere. Huge lions, tigers, bison, and elephants adorned the walls. The ceilings were polished marble with golden trim. When the group of us got to the top of the stairs, there were only a few of us left.

The butcher and I looked down at the bald, sputtering assesle. who had killed so many of our people. He had no sympathy and was only concerned for himself. He wept and pleaded for his life. His hand gripped tightly a walking stick with a skull on top. Oh, please don't kill me. I'll do anything you want. I have money.

How much money do you want? A million? Two million. I can do that. Just let me get my checkbook. I'll make it out to you. my friend, what's your name? He looked at me, and I shook my head. Blood flew and sprayed up and everywhere as the butcher did what he did best. The screams were loud for a long time. We watched

as he made smaller cuts from the larger primal ones, and the man watched as well. His head held to look by us, still alive in some way only the butcher could contrive. Byer. By the end he was begging for death, only his torso and head left jabbering and pleading for mercy. He did not receive it. The butcher was partial to tourists. They were usually his favorite, but he'd make an exception in this case and make do with a local for his experiments.

We took what we wanted from the mansion, and then we burnt it to the ground. We got back to the rest of the group, who had by now managed to examine. extinguished the fire caused by the tanker explosion. The devious trap had killed dozens and wounded just as many more. The survivors looked exhausted and were covered in blood and soot, their eyes full of tears for lost friends and family. But they let up a cheer when we told them what we'd done. We all set up together to finish what was left to do. How it would be accomplished, well, none of us knew yet. We got to the sister's place and saw that the blackness had begun to recede already, disappearing

down sewers and flowing into streams after the large storm. Speaking of which, the half-moon had begun to show again in the sky as the clouds receded. Maybe the butcher was right after all. That the evil would end when the man was defeated. I couldn't be sure if I was right about my magical crude oil theory, but it felt right to me. The sisters came out to greet us and told us they'd found a way to stop the leak of the black stuff from beneath the earth. I shared with the sisters about scratches, how he died, but had been prepared to fight for the town. The other cats sensed my sadness and hung their

heads with despair as I told them how he died in my arms. One came over to me and bonked his head against my leg, a funeral hug, then looked up at me with tear-filled green eyes. I hadn't known cats were capable of crying. I figured I'd tell them my theory, and my idea to clean out the rest of the ooze with the tankers and suction equipment which we'd brought with us from the warehouse. Perhaps we could salvage what was left and see if we could use it to power the town somehow. That had always been a great cost to our less financial stable residence. You've always been great at making connections, Jerome.

Well done, my boy." The butcher nodded and winked at me. I blinked and noticed immediately that the evil eye which had invaded my vision for the last few days was finally gone. I could see clearly in the darkness of my closed eyes again. I could dream and not be haunted by its watchful stage. its watchful stare. One of the sisters nodded at me knowingly. She'd been the one who'd asked me that day. Did it see you? I nodded back at her, and we stood together in the glow of the half-moon. It had been the first clear night in quite a while. I'll come back later to fix the

Wi-Fi, ladies. Don't worry about the service charge. This one's on me. You see, around here, We look out for each other. We don't let outsiders make trouble for anyone in our town. Keep that in mind, stranger. Or else you might end up drowning in the silent blackness beneath hollow's end. Sweet dreams.