Scary Horror Stories by Dr. NoSleep - Alien Man

Episode Date: October 5, 2021

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It's never too early to plan your summer story in Europe with WestJet, from rolling countryside to cobblestone streets. Begin your next chapter. Book your seat at westjet.com or call your travel agent. WestJet, where your story takes off. Talk to nicely. Nine floors. Nine impossibly long floors that made taking the elevator upwards of great chore.

The men and women standing around Price huffed and sighed with the opening of each door. As more people left each time, They were unhappy, at least. Price assumed they were unhappy. It was hard to tell with people. The way they made noises when they were happy and sad was hard to follow sometimes. Not that these people mattered to Price. None of them did. He stood, motionless and unblinking, as the cab continued to move upwards.

The woman beside him, a petite lass with sharp red lips and an expensive-looking suit, remarked to him, if this goes any slower, we'll die of old age by the time we get there. We'll die of old age anyway, Price replied. He said nothing else and returned to his forward stare. The woman had started to laugh at first, chuckling for only a moment, before realizing that the man was serious. Geez, sorry, she mumbled, falling silent. Price knew not to accept her apology out loud.

That was something called sarcasm. Sarcasm, spite, or maybe injury? It was hard to tell what she was feeling. How words could cause injury in any form was beyond him. him. Why should a person care what anyone else has to say? Though, he could not help but crack a little smile as the doors to the elevator finally opened on the right floor. The bassootic woman, still in a state of agitation, quickly rushed out. Her pace indicated anger, pain. How nice to enjoy such a little treat before the main event. Price tried to savor what fleeting joy came from

the interaction, but the sensation faded almost as quickly as it had arrived. Such was the nature of things. No reason to complain, he mused. It was much better to just carry on. Nothing stayed in stasis. Everything shifted at all times. But somehow, people always seemed to want things to stay the same, perfect, comfortable. And for those who did not feel happy in their state, they would dream and plan to achieve comfort and bliss. Such desires were exploitable.

Price knew this full well and was counting on such predictable behaviors. Predictable. That was the best way to describe them. Creatures of pattern and habit. to seek comfort. They craved delight and pleasure. Price had learned rather quickly that people would do just about anything to gain whatever drug they craved, love, friendship, affirmation, and even simple kindness. If he could give it to them, they'd do whatever Price wanted. Though, there was a caveat. Most humans needed to trust him before they were willing to divulge what it is they desired.

Such a task was tiresome. The human mind was predictable and boring, simplistic, and uncomplexed. Was uncomplex a word? It was now. Price was pleased with his new creation. No one else had bothered to make such a word. No one but a genius like him. Dr. Tabitha Green, PMHNP, the placard on the door glowed before Price, the light, shining so brightly that it almost seared his eyes. He grunted, forcing a hand up to block the fierce energy radiating from the placard. The pain was almost immeasurable. Then he touched it. Just for a brief moment, he tapped on the gorge. old etched nameplate, expecting to feel some pain, but it was cold to the touch.

Slowly, Price lowered his hand to see that light was gone, that hideous energy was no longer around. Good, good. He couldn't be taken away, not when there was work to do. The door swung open, startling the woman behind the desk. Was this Tabitha? It had to be, right? Who else would come into this office and make themselves at home? But didn't some humans do that? There was a phrase they used. Make yourself at home. Yes, that's right. This woman may not be the one he was seeking.

Are you the doctor? Tabitha Green. P-M-H-N-P. Price asked, painstakingly spelling out the acronym, trying as damned as to recall that burning, agonizing light. I am, Tabitha said. She didn't appear worried, though Price bursting through the door unannounced,

had startled her. Once she recognized him, she became at ease instantly. Her guard dropped. She smiled with an eagerness. Had they met before? Perhaps one of the others did. That would make sense. The pump needed to be primed, did it not? There was a near painful eagerness in the doctor. She had leapt up to greet him as quickly as possible, advancing so fast he was forced to back up a step and a half. A slight recognition glimmered in Tabitha's eye, indicating she had just realized her lack of professionalism and decorum. She cleared her throat and stepped back. Sorry, I don't mean to crowd you. It's just, I didn't think you. you'd actually take my invitation? Of course not. Price had worked very hard to ensure she would believe as such. Wait, Addy? Foggy memories of conversations online, text messages and even photographs being exchanged, surfaced to his mind. What was the nature of those things? This could not

be a date. Perhaps a job interview? May I sit? he asked, pointing to the pair of red oversized chairs. Of course, please, Tabitha said. She gingerly shut the door, and he could hear the telltale click of a lot. Was it to keep him in or to keep people out? At once, Price's heart started pounding. The plant. That damned plant on the desk, a cactus of some kind with yellow flesh, it was burning him. But he could not strike it. Such a thing would undoubtedly hurt his fingers.

Perhaps he should command the woman to do so. She would yield, yes? Come on, have a seat, the doctor said, ever so gently putting a hand on his shoulder to guide him away from her desk. The plant had ceased its burning for now, But Price could feel something moving around. He had to hurry. This was of the utmost importance.

Thank you, he said, sitting down. It's really good to see you in person, Tabitha replied, sitting across from him, clipboard in hand. I know it's hard for you to go outside. It was? What? Price didn't understand what she was talking about. They had never met, unless... Of course.

Taggart. That brilliant bastard's plan had worked. And that meant... Price was here to seal the deal. Yes, of course. course. The woman was the key. She always was, perhaps. Terribly hard, he said, sighing heavily and lowering his head, a perfectly executed expression of sorrow, almost unbearable. Yes, I see the discomfort, the woman replied, fidgeting ever so slightly. Was she nervous or afraid? Or perhaps

she desired him? That would be pleasant. But Price wasn't here for that, or even small conversation. There was much bigger things at play. I fear that I may have misled you, Price continued. His sorrowful face so profoundly crafted that it would touch the innermost part of the woman's soul, if she even had a soul, that is. I, Fry started to say before becoming choked up, so full of tears that he couldn't even speak. This was the thing that made him vital to the operation. This is what the others could not do. This was his purpose.

I just can't do this book. I can't. I'm sorry. Hey now, the doctor quietly soothed. You took a big step coming here today. We don't need to get straight to business. We can just talk, face to face for once. The softness in her face gave Price a reason to grin.

He tried to hold it back, to hide the predator's smile. But such a task was near impossible. Slowly, the corners of his lips turned upwards, and he bared his teeth, trying to smile his best at her. This was perhaps his one weakness. He could not smile well. He did not know how. The woman paid no mind.

Instead, she merely listened. There was a kindness in her that allowed Price to capture her attention fully, a kindness that, like all things human, could easily be exploited. So, tell me, who am I talking to now? Dr. Tabitha asked, curiously tilting her head to examine the man. Hours of conversation had flowed by like minutes, and now she was comfortable enough to ask the question that had been on her mind this entire time. The woman's scrutiny was so intense that her eyes began to glow brightly. The light was burning again, but Price had no more energy within him. He would succumb to the cruel power that placed him in sleep for ages at a time.

The burning sensation, the throbbing in his head, all of it faded away as the new man took possession. The Lord of the Hunt emerged and from the look of it just in time. Price's job had been to get to the building, to get inside and into her office, to win her trust. Price? she repeated, who are you right now? I am Taggart. The Lord of the Hunt was forced to say, how he loathed such a pedestrian name. Did they not know he was a god? No, of course not. He was not standing atop a great throne yet. The masses did not pray to him, but someday they would, as long as the sacrifices were made.

Oh, Taggart, wow, the woman said forgetting herself. I mean, sorry, it's just, you've both talked about him so much. I mean, you've mentioned your Taggart identity quite a bit, but I've never spoken with him. It's a pleasure to meet you. How little she knew. It was the Lord of the Hunt who spoke with her across anonymous boards. It was his relentless pursuit and focused to localize where she was, to find all of her weaknesses. Yes, Price would get this body to see her and set her at ease, but the Lord of the Hunt had made the arrangements, all of them. I cannot say the name, he replied. His hand slipped into his right pocket, feeling around for the trigger. The mortal heart within him was pounding. The muscles in his arms and legs were tensing. This was going

to be fun. Oh, have I offended? The woman had not a chance to reply before a loud bang sounded somewhere outside the high-rise. The explosion was vast and bright, illuminating the night sky for a quick second. The building shook and windows rattled, sending shockwaves through the very bones of the tower. What in the hell? Dr. Tabitha shouted, leaping out of her seat and fright. She quickly rushed to the window, pulling the shades up higher so she could get a better view. Some kind of fire, I guess.

What time is it? Taggart said nothing in response to this. He merely stood and watched as the creature tried to make sense of all that was happening. Holy, it's almost two in the morning, she exclaimed, checking her phone, completely oblivious to the man behind her. Price, for all of his foolishness, had done well in earning her trust. Taggered snickered at those thoughts. This moment was something to savour, to taste, to relish. Upon hearing the sounds coming from the Lord of the Hunt's mouth, the doctor spun around immediately. Her eyes widened as she saw what was in the man's hand. The glistening combination

of fear and curiosity in her eyes was a cocktail he could drink forever. Perhaps he should. Oh, what is that? She stammered, pointing towards the large wreath made of birch twigs and tied grass in his hands. Her feet were shifting a little, and Taggart could see her hands begin to shake. How fragile was the human perception of time, how damning it was to these mortals. Taggart extended his hand slowly, raising the wreath as if it were a ground. This is an offering to please me, he said, taking a step forward and extending the guard. garland to her. Wear it. The fire alarms in the building began to sound, though none of the sprinklers went off. Taggart could see the conflict in her eyes as she made a decision. Comply,

or make the situation worse than it already was? It was not difficult to predict what she chose. The doctor snatched the wreath away quickly and then placed it upon her head. Are you pleased? she asked, trying to contain her agitation and fear. How pathetic. Her teeth were starting to mold. Disgusting. Taggart could barely stand to look at such a horrid thing. Moss and lichen poured from her ears and eyes. Yellow shivering slime dripped from her nose and the Lord of the Hunt wretched. Not enough time. He had to fire the starting pistol.

It was time for her to run. I won't be pleased until you're dead, he shouted, lunging towards her, with ease. She ducked underneath his arms as he made a slow, clumsy attempt to seize her hold. Without a moment of hesitation, she fled out the door, screaming at the top of her lungs for help. Much to Tabitha's credit, she was quick, fit, and exceptionally smart. All of these attributes had been why she was selected for such a game. After all, what was a hunt without a chance of escape? Otis opened his eyes to see that blood was everywhere.

Immediately his heart began to race. Blood? Whose? No, not again, he shouted, searching the immediate area. It was an office of some kind. Where was the body? There had to be a corpse with this much... Oh, thank God! Otis gasped upon seeing his own forearms.

Deep, deep knife wounds had been cut, though carefully avoiding any artery. This was self-inflicted. The hunt had begun. The blood sacrifice offered. But now Otis was here to put a stop to that. Finally, I'm awake, Otis said, gazing at the wounds. The blood was fairly wet, and the knife was in his hands, glistening from the sheen on the blade. The newness of the blood and the carving meant only one thing. There's still time! He shouted, quickly turning on a heel and dashing out the door. The wounds didn't matter, though Taggart had clearly lost his composure when doing his silly little ritual. That damned fool thought he was a good. God, but he was no such thing. Otis would prove it. This place was unfamiliar. The power had gone out, though the emergency exit light still glowed. Fire alarms were blaring. In the distance, over the alarms, there came a hoarse cry for help. A woman? Or one of those damn traps? Impossible to tell.

Best to be careful. Watch each step, above and below. No corner was safe. No stairwell was secure. Otis knew all of their tricks, and he was determined to overcome them. This time would be different. the Lord, or that sick, sycophant price, would not get their target. Each corner proved safe, no witnesses around. Oh, God no, Otis whispered, feeling his stomach tightened as he approached the final turn. The cry for help had stopped now, and he could guess why. Peering around the corner, Otis found confirmation of his worries. Kneeling on the ground, barely able to stay conscious, was a woman who looked like a doctor of some sort.

He was targeting doctors now? The Lord kept escalating. How long until they were caught? taking Otis with him. Why should he have to pay for their sins? There wasn't much time. For the woman must have pulled open the stair exit only to be greeted by a powerful surge of smoke. Beside the elevator were two bright red placards that read, in case of fire, use stairs. The misalignment of these placards and their size meant that this was clearly the Lord of the Hunt's plan. Cause her to panic, and then she races into the stairs where she dies of asphyxiation. An accidental death at Taggart's hand. No witnesses. No one would ever know the real reason

she was there in the first place, except she was still alive. Otis could see that she was crawling towards the elevator still, but chances were it was disabled or somehow occupied. There was no way to know how far Price and Taggerd had gone to orchestrate such a murder. They had always bragged about their ingenuity, their skillfulness, how they always got their target. Otis felt a tightness in his stomach, as the adrenaline began to surge. He gritted his teeth hard and crouched in a sprinter stance. Smoke was lethal. running and panic would decrease his air supply, risking his own life. But that woman, it was time to teach Taggart a lesson. Let's see who's Lord of the Hunt now, he whispered as he rushed in. There was no screaming, kicking nor clawing from the woman. She was past her limit, barely able to

see. The fortuitous acceptance of her fate allowed Otis to seize her by the arm and pull her up. He was never as strong as the others, and thus could not carry her. But he could walk her out of this burning nightmare. Slinging her arm over his shoulder and lifting her up, Otis helped her stagger away from the smoke, or at least far enough for them to breathe. I opened fire door. She mumbled in between hard gasps for oxygen. They were clear of the smoke and the fire now, moving a little faster down the hallway to the opposite side.

Another elevator was ahead. Was it safe? Otis scrutinized the lift and decided to chance it. Worst case scenario, he'd be able to climb up the maintenance hatch to the next floor. At least then, they'd be clear of that Nimrod's traps. The woman clung tightly to him. Gasping still, eyes forced shut from the smoke that had seared her. It was better that she did not know her savior.

For if she saw the same body that Taggart and Otis shared, she would become hysterical, and that could get them both killed. The walls shimmered around Otis as he pushed himself, both physically and mentally, to get to the elevator. Long hands stretched out from walls, reflections and doors as Otis staggered, the weight of the woman exhausting him. These gray appendages tried to seize him to pull him away from it all, but he would resist.

He had to focus. Ding! screamed the elevator in triumphance at arrival. The doors opened and revealed nothing, nothing but an empty cab. They both collapsed into the elevator, gasping for air. The work wasn't done yet, however, for Otis had to force himself to stand and press the button. The doors closed, lighting with near silence. They were safe.

Dr. Tabitha was slowly able to rise while gasping for air, sputtering and coughing. That was close, she whispered, looking up to see her savior for the first time. Her eyes widened, but she hadn't the long capacity to scream. I know, right? Otis agreed as he merrily stabbed the knife deep into the woman's chest. I never get to win any of these. Lazzang sur-gely, puissance-molyne,

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