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,author,selftext,title,processed
0,GloriousWilliam666,"It was 10:30 of new years night. I was sitting on my couch, watching the news and waiting for the drop of the new year ball. I mean there wasn't much to do. I had my friends over there looked about as bored as me. I pulled up my computer to search around, to see what people are doing. It wasn't much of a surprise when I went on my Instagram and saw that everyone was getting ready to celebrate the new year. I myself like Reddit so I went on there and see what was going on.
I looked around on Reddit for a bit. Until I found something interesting. Here is what it said, "" summon the new year demon, all 5 steps."" I told my friends to come here and look what I found on Reddit. All five of them piled around me to see what can eat away there boredom. Martha was who first spoke, "" Well lets read the first step."" ""Ok,"" I responded. ""Step number 1, draw blood from all the people participating in the summoning and put it in a bowl. Jack one of my friends didn't like blood but we made him do it anyway. ""So done with that step, lets read step 2."" I put my eyes onto step number 2 and began to read it.
""Step number 2, cut a chunk of hair from each participant put it into the bowl."" We all did as what it said, the girls took a little of persuading, but they came to and cut a chunk of there hair and put it into the bowl. Martha, the smart girl said, "" this doesn't seem like a good idea to continue this."" But I told her that nothing was nothing to worry about it was a harmless game to pass the time. She then gave me a simple ""ok"" but I could tell she was feeling a little nervous. I put my arm around her, she was not my girlfriend but I did love her. She put her head against my shoulder as I began to read number 3.
"" Number 3, everyone participating tell one of your dark secrets don't lie. You can't back out now."" I asked, ""who wants to go first."" Johnathan said that he would like to tell his dark secret. Here is what Johnatan told us "" I killed a cat for no reason, but I was a kid at the time."" No one judged him we just went to the next person. ""Olivia how about your dark secret, "" She thought about it for a minute then she said, ""Well when I was little I pushed my friends down a mountain, don't get a bad idea he survived."" After her, my other friends went and what the rest of them said I don't think I would want to put on here.
Me myself I had a dark secret but I don't want to put it on here. After we all shared that with each other we became closer friends and further apart at the same time. So all we can do is go to step number 4. ""Get something that will light the items in the bowl on fire, so that the beginning of the ritual can begin, don't go to step 5 until everything has burned,"" I told Jonathan that I had a lighter in the kitchen. As he went to get that I looked at the clock and it was 11:31. Looks like it is almost new years. Johnatan came back and I didn't even have to say anything he just lit the contents that were in the bowl.
I will say that it smelled really bad, by the expression of my friends, I can guess they felt the same way. We all watched parts of us burn in the bowl until Jack started to shake he fell to the ground shaking. I was about to call the game off until Jack came to and said that he was ok. Finally, I pulled my computer up until step number 5 "" the guiltiest person shall have there heart ripped out and eaten. I closed my computer down and said "" ok this game is done and Jack you need to get rest.
I still can't believe what happens next and will never forget it will forever haunt me, Jack jumped onto Willy he was the quietest of our group Jack stabbed a blade into Willy's chest. I still don't know where Jack got the knife. Jack pulled out Willy's heart. We all watched in terror as Jack ate Willy's heart. Jack turned into something I still can't comprehend. It burst towards us killing Martha instantly. Slaying my friends in cold blood. It grabbed me and threw me against my wall something stabbed through me.
I was bleeding. But I was able to reach my computer and since I was still alive the least I could do was to type this and tell everyone that there is a demon out there. I summoned it I guess I deserved what has happened to me. So whoever reads this please be safe, I'm sorry for what I have done.
",New Year's Demon,"['new', 'year', 'night', 'sit', 'couch', 'watch', 'news', 'wait', 'drop', 'new', 'year', 'ball', 'mean', 'wasnt', 'much', 'friend', 'look', 'bore', 'pull', 'comput', 'search', 'around', 'see', 'peopl', 'wasnt', 'much', 'surpris', 'went', 'instagram', 'saw', 'everyon', 'get', 'readi', 'celebr', 'new', 'year', 'like', 'reddit', 'went', 'see', 'go', 'look', 'around', 'reddit', 'bit', 'found', 'someth', 'interest', 'said', 'summon', 'new', 'year', 'demon', 'step', 'told', 'friend', 'come', 'look', 'found', 'reddit', 'five', 'pile', 'around', 'see', 'eat', 'away', 'boredom', 'martha', 'first', 'spoke', 'well', 'let', 'read', 'first', 'step', 'ok', 'respond', 'step', 'number', 'draw', 'blood', 'peopl', 'particip', 'summon', 'put', 'bowl', 'jack', 'one', 'friend', 'didnt', 'like', 'blood', 'made', 'anyway', 'done', 'step', 'let', 'read', 'step', 'put', 'eye', 'onto', 'step', 'number', 'began', 'read', 'step', 'number', 'cut', 'chunk', 'hair', 'particip', 'put', 'bowl', 'said', 'girl', 'took', 'littl', 'persuad', 'came', 'cut', 'chunk', 'hair', 'put', 'bowl', 'martha', 'smart', 'girl', 'said', 'doesnt', 'seem', 'like', 'good', 'idea', 'continu', 'told', 'noth', 'noth', 'worri', 'harmless', 'game', 'pass', 'time', 'gave', 'simpl', 'ok', 'could', 'tell', 'feel', 'littl', 'nervou', 'put', 'arm', 'around', 'girlfriend', 'love', 'put', 'head', 'shoulder', 'began', 'read', 'number', 'number', 'everyon', 'particip', 'tell', 'one', 'dark', 'secret', 'dont', 'lie', 'cant', 'back', 'ask', 'want', 'go', 'first', 'johnathan', 'said', 'would', 'like', 'tell', 'dark', 'secret', 'johnatan', 'told', 'us', 'kill', 'cat', 'reason', 'kid', 'time', 'one', 'judg', 'went', 'next', 'person', 'olivia', 'dark', 'secret', 'thought', 'minut', 'said', 'well', 'littl', 'push', 'friend', 'mountain', 'dont', 'get', 'bad', 'idea', 'surviv', 'friend', 'went', 'rest', 'said', 'dont', 'think', 'would', 'want', 'put', 'dark', 'secret', 'dont', 'want', 'put', 'share', 'becam', 'closer', 'friend', 'apart', 'time', 'go', 'step', 'number', 'get', 'someth', 'light', 'item', 'bowl', 'fire', 'begin', 'ritual', 'begin', 'dont', 'go', 'step', 'everyth', 'burn', 'told', 'jonathan', 'lighter', 'kitchen', 'went', 'get', 'look', 'clock', 'look', 'like', 'almost', 'new', 'year', 'johnatan', 'came', 'back', 'didnt', 'even', 'say', 'anyth', 'lit', 'content', 'bowl', 'say', 'smell', 'realli', 'bad', 'express', 'friend', 'guess', 'felt', 'way', 'watch', 'part', 'us', 'burn', 'bowl', 'jack', 'start', 'shake', 'fell', 'ground', 'shake', 'call', 'game', 'jack', 'came', 'said', 'ok', 'final', 'pull', 'comput', 'step', 'number', 'guiltiest', 'person', 'shall', 'heart', 'rip', 'eaten', 'close', 'comput', 'said', 'ok', 'game', 'done', 'jack', 'need', 'get', 'rest', 'still', 'cant', 'believ', 'happen', 'next', 'never', 'forget', 'forev', 'haunt', 'jack', 'jump', 'onto', 'willi', 'quietest', 'group', 'jack', 'stab', 'blade', 'willi', 'chest', 'still', 'dont', 'know', 'jack', 'got', 'knife', 'jack', 'pull', 'willi', 'heart', 'watch', 'terror', 'jack', 'ate', 'willi', 'heart', 'jack', 'turn', 'someth', 'still', 'cant', 'comprehend', 'burst', 'toward', 'us', 'kill', 'martha', 'instantli', 'slay', 'friend', 'cold', 'blood', 'grab', 'threw', 'wall', 'someth', 'stab', 'bleed', 'abl', 'reach', 'comput', 'sinc', 'still', 'aliv', 'least', 'could', 'type', 'tell', 'everyon', 'demon', 'summon', 'guess', 'deserv', 'happen', 'whoever', 'read', 'pleas', 'safe', 'im', 'sorri', 'done']"
1,Offic3r_Friendly,"
I've worked in security for approximately 6 years, and have worked many places including factories, a hospital (including a morgue), and testing facilities for machinery. But one place I worked at creeps me out to this day; and I can't even understand what exactly it is that is the issue. Let me explain.
Back in 2014, while attending college, the contract security firm I worked for asked me to fill in temporarily at the college I attended, for they were short staffed of public safety officers (PSO). I accepted the position. I reported for my first day on the job on a Saturday. I was previously issued the uniform that consisted of a blue polo and black tactical pants. I met an old coworker of mine from a previous job, Brian, that day. I was excited to see him for it had been two years since I had seen Brian at all. Brian was a military veteran having served several tours overseas. Brian was also in his late thirties. Brian explained to me the job, which was fairly easy. Patrol the campus, check on certain equipment, and keep trespassers away. I was handed all the equipment I needed and was told how to clock in/out, access the computer, and how to access the camera system (which I already knew how to run from previous security jobs). Once Brian left I read the Standard Operating Procedure (SOP) on what to do. I should mention that this was during the summer and the college had only a handful of classes in the summer time.
Anyway the first day of patrol was easy. I kept an eye on people on the property and did my checks. Only certain buildings were open to the public and all the others were closed. To access the closed buildings one would need a key-card. The only people in the summer that have the access level on their key-card is security. Well, after a few days of working, I started to notice odd things happening in the buildings that were closed to the public.
While walking through one building, when walking past the student dentist office, strange noises could be heard coming from inside. Since these noises (which sounded like someone tapping metal against a pipe) were unusual for the building, I grabbed my flashlight and opened the door to investigate. I reached for the light switch and flipped the switch but the lights inside wouldn't turn on. I figured the electricity was on a timer and didn't turn on when the building was closed. I walked around the office, and the operation rooms but found nothing. These noises stopped when I walked inside so I decided to leave. I shrugged off the noises as probably the pipes making the noise. Once outside in the hallway, the noise continued. I thought nothing of it so I continued my patrol. Since the building was closed and the electricity was off there were emergency lights that stayed on to illuminate the hallways a little. As I walked the emergency lights started flickering. I stopped and watched them flicker. I had never seen that before and I thought it was unusual. Then it suddenly felt cold inside the building. I had this feeling that I wasn't alone. I shined my flashlight behind me but saw nothing except lockers and dark doors. I started noticing this feeling in all the buildings the rest of the day. This was only the beginning.
The next time I saw Brian, I met another PSO named Albert. He worked 3rd shift with Brian for they had 2 at night to assist with drunks and the problems that came with the apartments across the street. Albert was in his late twenties and, like me, wore glasses and wanted to be in law enforcement. I mentioned to Brian about the strange sound and lights. Albert, seeming very interested in what I had experienced, chirped in. Albert began to tell me how the campus was haunted, telling me he thought the spirit lived in the tunnels below the campus. (There was a tunnel network connecting the majority of the buildings together. This was also the tornado shelter for all of campus). Albert stated he had ghost tracking equipment and was gonna look for the spirit. Albert seemed fascinated in ghosts, as if ghost hunting is what he lived for in his downtime. But Brian told me not to worry about what Albert was saying, calling it nonsense. He said there had been some weird stuff happening around the campus but that it was nothing to worry about. He didn't even consider that there was a spirit there.
So having been told by a friend not to worry about anything I went upon my business as usual. But one day I started hearing doors closing. I still had this creepy feeling I wasn't alone, and the chills all the time, and now there were doors slamming shut in closed buildings. Anytime I heard a door slam shut I would always investigate, but only to find nothing. I figured it was my imagination for I was patrolling inside dark buildings. Since these buildings were closed it had to be just me and my imagination, right?
Then came the day I almost met 'the spirit'; I think I'll call it a spirit for now. It was on a gloomy day with clouds out in the distance. I knew storms were coming and the Director of Public Safety had called at the beginning of my shift and instructed me what to do if it turned into a Tornado Warning. Living in Tornado Alley, tornado's are a common thing during the summer and fall. I was patrolling the campus as usual when I saw the dark clouds rolling in. I would always blare the local rock station on the radio in the patrol car. At one point while on patrol, the wind suddenly picked up. I looked up to see the sky growing darker and darker every minute. I heard the emergency tone come across the radio stating, ""The National Weather Service has issued a Tornado Warning for the following counties..."" and I heard my county come across. I knew of only 1 person being on campus that day. I flipped on the emergency lights, and Whelen siren and sped across campus. I pulled up to the building and ran inside to find the volunteer (also student) named Mike, hard at work. Mike was a college student in his early twenties and lived across the street at the apartments. Mike spent his free time volunteering in the greenhouse. He was in charge of keeping the plants in the greenhouse alive. I informed Mike of the tornado warning and told him to seek shelter. I then called the alarm company and told them of the tornado warning. Outside the county emergency siren sounded warning of a tornado. I got back in the patrol car and sped to our tornado shelter...which was inside the tunnel.
I pulled up to another one of our buildings and ran down and unlocked it, knowing Mike would be right behind me. While standing inside the dark tunnel I heard an echo. It sounded like something had been thrown against the brick wall somewhere inside. I began to get this weird feeling that something was in the tunnel with me. I knew I had no where left to go and that sent chills down my back and my breathing quickened. I started to sweat as well. I reached behind me and grabbed my flashlight and held it over my right shoulder not only to produce light, but to swing it at an assailant if needed. I was determined to find out what was trying to scare me so I started slowly making my way towards the sound. I kept hearing things being moved around and doors shutting, but since the tunnel was dark and long, I couldn't see anything. My footsteps echoed in the tunnels and sounds echoed back. Then the sounds started getting closer. The hair on the back of my neck stood up. My breathing got heavy and my arm holding the light started shaking. I had the feeling something was about to meet me face to face. I took one more step when BOOM; a mouse ran between my legs! I jumped and my flashlight tumbled to the ground. The next thing I heard was the sound of Mike vaulting through the door of the tornado shelter. I leaned over and rested my hands on the brick wall while I took a deep breath. I picked up my flashlight and went back and found Mike drenched in water. The sounds in the tunnel had stopped and whatever I had heard previously was either not there anymore or had moved on to another building. We waited probably fifteen minutes before I saw the wind/rain had calmed down. Then I went back to the patrol car and checked the grounds, the whole time wondering what that mouse was running from.
The next day I told Brian and Albert about the tunnel incident. Albert was excited to hear about my experience and laughed at the fact a mouse scared the crap out of me. He seemed like a kid watching a scary movie on TV, his eyes were filled with excitement. Albert stated he was close to finding out what was down there and then stated he knew where it stayed. He didn't want to ruin the surprise of finding it so he didn't say much more about what he thought it was, other than he would tell us if he found anything. Once Albert left, Brian again told me not to worry about what I heard and saw. It almost seemed as if Brian didn't want me investigating to find out what was out there. I knew Brian was the type of man not easily scared, but it seemed he threw out the idea completely of the campus being haunted. It was about that time when we heard a door close underneath our office. Brian and I went down to the library and investigated. All the doors were secure so it was physically impossible that we heard a door slam shut, but still, we both heard it. Brian looked at me and told me he didn't like that all this weird stuff was happening. However Brian dismissed the fact that there might be something here and blamed it on a malfunction of some sort. He was not one to waste his time on the theory of ghosts. We knew we weren't being pranked for no one but security could get in from the outside and all the doors were locked tight already. I let it go, but I steered away from the tunnels and tried to not let anything else get to me.
I continued to work as I usually did taking note to all the strange noises and doors closing and it wasn't long until the second to last day at this job, came around. I went to the office as usual and greeted Brian as he left, but found Albert in the office. Albert wasn't himself at all. Albert seemed like he was on high alert; he kept looking down the halls. Albert's eyes darted from camera to camera on the monitors and his breathing was heavy. As Albert sat in the chair he was twitchy, almost like a child full of energy. Albert announced his immediate resignation and had a box containing all of his stuff in the office. When I asked why, he looked at me and said, ""I found it. You don't want to know what it is, so don't go looking for it"". I said Good Bye to Albert as he left the office and I never saw Albert again since that day. I conducted my patrols as usual but made sure to keep an eye on the strange noises. I spent my downtime sitting in the patrol car on the perimeter of the campus to prevent having to run into whatever creature or spirit that Albert found. Still to this day I do not know what it is, but it seems it lives in the tunnels underneath this particular campus.",It lives underneath the Campus,"['ive', 'work', 'secur', 'approxim', 'year', 'work', 'mani', 'place', 'includ', 'factori', 'hospit', 'includ', 'morgu', 'test', 'facil', 'machineri', 'one', 'place', 'work', 'creep', 'day', 'cant', 'even', 'understand', 'exactli', 'issu', 'let', 'explain', 'back', 'attend', 'colleg', 'contract', 'secur', 'firm', 'work', 'ask', 'fill', 'temporarili', 'colleg', 'attend', 'short', 'staf', 'public', 'safeti', 'offic', 'pso', 'accept', 'posit', 'report', 'first', 'day', 'job', 'saturday', 'previous', 'issu', 'uniform', 'consist', 'blue', 'polo', 'black', 'tactic', 'pant', 'met', 'old', 'cowork', 'mine', 'previou', 'job', 'brian', 'day', 'excit', 'see', 'two', 'year', 'sinc', 'seen', 'brian', 'brian', 'militari', 'veteran', 'serv', 'sever', 'tour', 'oversea', 'brian', 'also', 'late', 'thirti', 'brian', 'explain', 'job', 'fairli', 'easi', 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'nois', 'spent', 'downtim', 'sit', 'patrol', 'car', 'perimet', 'campu', 'prevent', 'run', 'whatev', 'creatur', 'spirit', 'albert', 'found', 'still', 'day', 'know', 'seem', 'live', 'tunnel', 'underneath', 'particular', 'campu']"
2,iamanovelty,"I decided to start pet-sitting again.
This story isn’t about Cujo. It might be weirder.
I got my first client after moving down to North Carolina, and of course with no local references, the only person who would hire me lived a half hour drive away, in the middle of nowhere.
Okay. Fine. It’s still a paycheck. It’d been almost a year since I’d gotten down here, and even with the lower cost of living and a full-time job, it was still a little difficult to make ends meet. I’ve got terrible credit. I’ve got debt that’s been in collections for so long that I doubt whether or not it’s even worth it to pay it off. I’ve still got a car payment from New Jersey, and my rent is almost as much for my nice apartment here than it was for my shitty place up north. I needed to supplement, and the only things I’m competent with are animals.
I should add that even though I live pretty much dead center North Carolina, I actually live in a pretty densely populated town. There’s a historic downtown right down the road from me, probably 5 grocery stores in a 5 mile radius of my home, a giant-ass walmart, and pretty much anything else you could think that you’d want nearby. All I cared about was that I still had decent internet, and my apartment allowed small pets. Also, for the most part, there’s street lights. This is important, because I hate driving in the dark.
I drove out the week before I was to start my twice-daily visits, so I could meet the two dogs and their mom before her husband’s deployment ended and their vacation began. The drive was actually pretty pleasant. A few miles on a road I was familiar with, and a traffic circle later, I was met with a glorious 55 mph speed limit sign and no other cars on the road. It was just a few turns and a lot of long, winding roads of nothing. A few houses, some farms, but mostly just pine trees. I arrived 5 minutes early, pet some dogs, chatted about organic farming, and I was on my way not long after with the promise of a regular gig if I did well during my week with the pups.
Despite the commute, I was happy. It was going to be a way to make some extra money with minimal human interaction. The dogs seemed to like me. The male was slightly territorial, but nothing I couldn’t deal with. My first visit there alone was uneventful; I took the dogs out right away for a bathroom break, gave them their dinner, and played with them outside for about an hour. I’m technically only paid for a half hour visit, but I couldn’t help myself. The land my clients live on is beautiful. Huge, tall trees unlike anything I’d seen before outside of a state forest lined their property and surrounded their land. Next to their house was a field that looked like it could be big enough to grow a miniature farm’s worth of veggies. They had a few buildings in addition to their house, too: some kind of little barn, something that could have been a garage at one point, and a complete mystery building with what looked like a fire pit outside the door. I couldn’t help but explore, and the dogs were thrilled to adventure with me.
By the time my curiosity had been satisfied, I realized it had gotten pretty dark. The proximity lights were on, so I made my way easily back to the house. After giving the pups their last treats of the night (I’m a pushover), I locked up and headed down the hill to my car. Driving back was much trickier than getting there. I was able to navigate without GPS to the house since it was my second time making the drive. I tried to do the same on the way back, but found myself almost missing turns out of their neighborhood, and decided to grab my phone and let myself be instructed on the path home. I got back on a long, winding road that lead me back into civilization, and let myself relax a little. Maybe I relaxed a little too much, because I didn’t see the fog until I was almost on top of it.
It covered the entire width of the road and then some, and was so dense that it looked like I could reach out and touch it, and it would feel like styrofoam. It was so thick that it was almost opaque in the light of my high beams. I was much too late to try to stop myself from going through it, but honestly, where else would I have gone? I didn’t even have enough road to safely turn around and head the opposite way, and there’s no way I was risking driving on the mushy dirt on either side of the pavement. My car is small and not meant to be driven off road.
So, being left with no reaction time, I found myself on the other side of the fog less than a second after involuntarily entering it. The road was clear from that point forward. No more fog; not even the subtle mist that had lingered in the air from the earlier day’s rain. My music was still loud, my GPS was still talking to me through my phone, and apparently I’d be turning right in 3.5 miles. I persevered.
The first time I realized something was wrong was when I reached the gas station. I knew I still had to go back to the dogs in the morning, and I was at less than a quarter tank of gas. I pulled in, popped my fuel door open, and went inside to get $20 on pump 3. Before I even got inside, the cashier was yelling my name and waving wildly. I was confused, mostly because I had never seen this woman before in my life. I am a socially awkward human. I am the epitome of fight or flight in situations like this. I could do neither in this situation, though. If I run away, I get no gas. If I yell, ‘hey, who the fuck are you and why do you know my name?’ I probably also get no gas. I wanted gas. I did not want to stop for gas in the morning.
I acquiesced. I had a conversation getting caught up with a woman I had never met. It was not my finest hour. She seemed to know personal details of my life. She knew my fiance’s name. She knew my mom’s name. She knew my damned chinchillas names, and no one can ever remember them. She did not know my ball python’s name, but I was reminded (for the first time) that snakes freak her out. I did not know anyone in her family’s name, but I pretended to rejoice that she thought Thomas was finally going to propose at Christmas this year. From what I gathered, they’d been together for a while. From what I inferred based on her rubbing her abdomen wistfully, Thomas might not have had much of a choice in the matter. From what her father sounded like from her description, Thomas was probably willing to end up a married dad rather than a dead father to a bastard.
I’m adding unnecessary details. I’m uncomfortable. This situation makes me uncomfortable.
It was not the last time this has happened to me. It’s been a long couple of weeks. I’ve re-met about a dozen people. Some of them were regulars at my work, who were upset that I didn’t remember their dog’s names. I’ve never even seen an Irish Wolfhound before today, sir, but I’m sorry that Maggie May was upset that I didn’t give her her favorite salmon treat. That was the tallest damn dog I’ve ever seen. I had to re-learn how to use the cash register, too. My supervisor was thrilled about that one. It’s not my fault the functions on the F2 (price adjustment) and F3 (quantity adjustment) keys had decided to swap themselves overnight. I apparently also need to re-learn the dress code, because let me tell you, there’s nothing worse than your superior, who’s 3 years younger than you, taking you into the office and lecturing you about how wearing jeans to work is ‘unprofessional and unacceptable’ when just the day before, she was asking you where you got your jeggings.
That’s unnecessary details AND a run-on sentence. I’m uncomfortable. This situation makes me uncomfortable.
It only took me two days to begin to panic. You should see my google search history.
“People remember me who I don’t know”
“How do I find out if there’s a database somewhere with my name and picture and people are using it to fuck with me?”
“Can weird fog make things different in my life?”
“Why am I forgetting everything?”
“Fog wall reality swap”
“Silent Hill style fog ruined my life”
“OK GOOGLE WHY IS EVERYTHING FALLING APART AROUND ME AM I GOING CRAZY I FEEL LIKE I’M GOING CRAZY PLEASE HELP”
I decided, after this very scientific research, that what I’d encountered may very well be an alternate reality. It’s not some crazy Mandela Effect bullshit. The presidents are all the same as what I remember. The right faces are on the right bills and coins. It was always Berenstain Bears; you guys are just paranoid. I guess it’s a parallel universe? Almost everything is the same. It’s just so many little things. Too many little things. I honestly do feel like I’m going crazy.
Why are my future in-laws names different? I’d always known them as Heather and Shane, and they look the same, but they’re looking at me like I’m crazy when I call them that. I’m too afraid to even ask my fiance what their names really are.
Why are my chinchillas in the wrong cages? Nephele was always in the bedroom with us. She has a tall cage because she likes to explore. Persephone was in the spare room, in a short, long cage because she’s afraid of heights. They’re swapped now. It’s fucking stupid. Why are the chinchillas in the wrong damn cages?
I’m wearing my ring on the wrong finger, too. It started after I got… here. I took it off to shower, put it back on my middle finger instead of my ring finger, and now it feels wrong to swap it back to where it belongs. It feels so uncomfortable when I put it where it belongs.
Should I go back to where I belong?
That’s not right; this is where I belong. This is my home. I’m laying in bed next to my fiance, writing this in the apartment we share with our three beautiful furry and scaly children. But this laptop is the wrong color. It was always black, and now it’s silver. I REMEMBER that it was black, because my old laptop was black, and I liked it and I bought this black one with Ed and I was so happy to get a laptop that reminded me of my old one because I missed the old one because I had to sell it to get the money to move down here and I did so much writing on that laptop and I wanted to get back into writing once I got down here and I thought getting the same color laptop would help and then I never wrote once I got down here but I DID write I wrote dozens of stories and I posted them here but now my account login isn’t working anymore and it says my account doesn’t exist so I made this new one to post here just now but I already had this account and I had posts to a few different subreddits I’d never been to before and I’m just not sure
No, wait. I figured it out. I know what I need to do.
I’m going back home.
If I post this, it means it worked. I made it home. I’m going back through that fog. Maybe if I go back through it at the same time, or if I drive backward, or if it’s a rainy night like it was the night I
It doesn’t matter. I’ll try anything. I need to make it home.
Thank you for listening. Thank you for reading this. Don’t drive through the fog wall if you can help it.
​
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​
I found this when I was going through my fiance’s things, looking for something to explain any of this. I saw her last two days ago, off on some dog sitting side job to bring in extra money for our fuzzy kids. I had to go to the police, get questioned by an overzealous prick cop, and then by every person who knew us both. I knew nothing. I didn’t even know where she really was, because I never went with her. All I could do was wait for someone to find her, or for my midnight searches to be fruitful.
They found her car last night, off of a country road. The car was totaled, like she ripped off the road going sixty and wrapped herself around a pine. They say she died quick. Some small consolation.
All of this seems like it stemmed from her mental state. Came out of nowhere, burned through her. I never got any explanation from her. I never will. She’s always been an anxious creature, always nervous about one thing or another, but it was never so bad she lost track of things until recently. It was so bad it was almost not like her at all. I might be losing it too, but I can almost believe the things she wrote. She wasn’t herself. Called my parents by the wrong name, mistook the babies homes, and she even took her ring off of the right finger. Considering how much she panicked about mine being in the wrong spot, it was just wrong. I want to chalk it all down to a mental breakdown from the stress, and I also want to lose my fucking mind and find this fog so I can find her again.
I’ve taken to driving up and down that road every night. The tree she died on is still warped from her car, and stained from all of the things inside of it. Maybe through the fog, it won’t be. I have to find out. 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'never', 'she’', 'alway', 'anxiou', 'creatur', 'alway', 'nervou', 'one', 'thing', 'anoth', 'never', 'bad', 'lost', 'track', 'thing', 'recent', 'bad', 'almost', 'like', 'might', 'lose', 'almost', 'believ', 'thing', 'wrote', 'wasn’t', 'call', 'parent', 'wrong', 'name', 'mistook', 'babi', 'home', 'even', 'took', 'ring', 'right', 'finger', 'consid', 'much', 'panick', 'mine', 'wrong', 'spot', 'wrong', 'want', 'chalk', 'mental', 'breakdown', 'stress', 'also', 'want', 'lose', 'fuck', 'mind', 'find', 'fog', 'find', 'i’v', 'taken', 'drive', 'road', 'everi', 'night', 'tree', 'die', 'still', 'warp', 'car', 'stain', 'thing', 'insid', 'mayb', 'fog', 'won’t', 'find']"
3,John_Drinks,"
Since the passing of my wife, I have been living on my own in a quaint but sizable and secluded cabin. My home is in the Appalachian Mountains of Tennessee, far enough from my hometown of Canton, Georgia, but close enough to visit my two children who are now grown and living their own lives in the metropolitan area of Atlanta. Despite the spirit of heaviness that I was left with after my loss, I instantly fell in love with the cabin and eagerly left the white picket fence behind.
I fit right into my new community, due to my tendency to keep to myself, something that was not at all foreign around these parts. My nearest neighbors lived roughly 3 miles up the dirt and gravel road from me, a sweet elderly couple who had retired from Virginia and would drop off canned preservatives free of charge now and again. I came to learn their names were Eugene and Meredith. On one occasion I invited them in for supper and a few drinks, and they kindly accepted my offer. After finishing our dinner, we sat around my kitchen table having drinks and sharing stories. That night was the first time I heard about the odd happenings that have plagued the community for the past few decades.
We have all heard stories about people going missing while hiking the Appalachian trail, and most of those disappearances seem to be easily explained away. However, the stories that they shared with me on that night truly disturbed me. I chalked it up to being drunk and in a vulnerable state of mind, but I would soon learn otherwise. They told me of a dark cloud that rested upon the community in the form of occult activity, something that had long taken place in these mountains according to them.
Both Eugene and Meredith believed that there were townsfolk who were deeply involved in witchcraft, blood sacrifice, and even cannibalism. Hell, the way they spoke about it was so convincing, that part of me wanted it to be true, God knows I needed a bit of excitement in my life, even if it came in the form of fear. Eugene began to tell me a story that took place during the winter of the previous year, about how he had housed his cattle in his barn on a particularly cold night, only to find all six of them slaughtered the following morning. A look of fear was frozen in the faces of their corpses, it looked as though they had been killed for no other reason than to torment the poor creatures and the elderly couple.
I too had a small barn on my property that I housed my sheep in during the nights, and I was now spooked thoroughly enough to decide that I would be making nightly patrols every few hours to ensure their safety. I have never been what you would consider a skilled hunter, fishing has always been my game, but I know my way around my old Remington Mohawk -600 and I felt confident in my ability to protect my livestock. Then there’s Abram, my 175lbs Caucasian mountain dog, he’s slowed down a bit in his old age, but he’s still a force to be reckoned with. I guess that Eugene and Meredith could read my thoughts through my silence and facial expression, and they tried to lighten the mood by pouring another round, but the uneasiness had already set in too deep.
I said to Eugene “So, earlier you mentioned that you think it’s people who are doing this, and you said something about cannibalism.” Meredith’s tawny complexion whitened a bit as she looked down and nursed her drink. Eugene however, leaned back in his seat for a moment before leaning back forward and resting his chin on his left hand. He looked me in the eye like he was both studying me and picking me apart, it was a look that I had only ever received from my own Grandfather. Eugene then asked, “Do you have children, Mr. Mitchell?” I hesitated to answer, but he knew my hesitation answered his question. He leaned in a little bit closer before telling me, “Kids have a way of disappearing in these mountains, and IF they are ever found, an open casket is out of the question.”
Eugene broke eye contact to pour himself another bourbon, that’s when I noticed Meredith had a look of woe stretched across her face. Meredith pulled the glass from Eugene’s hands causing the bourbon to momentarily spill onto the table while saying “I think we’ve all had enough for one night.” Eugene looked at me as if to apologize for the minor spill, and then he looked at his wife lovingly to acknowledge that she was correct. I awkwardly tried to divert the conversation by offering them both glasses of water and my guest bedroom for the night, as I didn’t want them driving along the forest road in the dark after a heavy night of drinking. Their politeness compelled them to decline at first, for fear that they would be imposing, but I reassured them that it would be my pleasure and they kindly took my offer.
It was exactly 1:41 AM when the screams of Badger (my only ram) and the barking of Abram woke me from my drunken slumber. In my drunken stupor, I struggled to put my boots on, and nearly forgot to grab my rifle as Abram and I made our way to the back door. When I finally exited the cabin and entered my backyard, I was met by Eugene crouched down behind my pickup. Eugene ushered me to get down and stay low. I crouched down behind the pickup with Eugene as I held on tight to Abrams collar, and for a moment I thought he was going to leave our side (God knows I don’t have the strength to hold that dog back.) Instead, Abrams guttural growls turned into silent whimpers, and Eugene nudged me in the shoulder to direct my attention to the barn…
“What?” is all I could think to say when I saw it, or her? Walking out of my barn, was the tallest woman (if you could even call her that) I’d ever seen. Her gait was so abnormal that it was painful to watch her move. She was easily 8ft tall, naked, and covered in gore from head to toe. Abram laid down and covered his face with his paws, and just as I was about to vomit, Eugene clasped his hand around my mouth and began to pray under his breath. I was ashamed of puking into Eugene’s hand, but he was clearly much more concerned with the monstrosity that was now aimlessly roaming about my yard.
The woman’s hair was dark and caked with blood, and she awkwardly danced around in the moonlight as if she was having a slow-motion seizure. Her limbs went from limp to rigid as she picked little pieces of gore out of her hair to eat, and she seemed to be in a moment of pure ecstasy. I had never been so terrified, at least not since the death of my beloved wife, but this kind of fear was different. I could feel tears welling up in my eyes, and Eugene must have been as frightened as I was because he finally released his grip over my mouth and told me to run inside.
Before I could even reach the screen door, Meredith swung it wide open from the inside, and she made sure that myself, Eugene, and my dog Abram all made it inside safely. As soon as we made it back into the house Meredith slammed the wooden door shut and deadbolted it. I scampered into the kitchen without a word and watched from the window as this woman slowly made her way to the tree line with that same disturbing gait. ",An Appalachian Horror Story. Chapter One.,"['sinc', 'pass', 'wife', 'live', 'quaint', 'sizabl', 'seclud', 'cabin', 'home', 'appalachian', 'mountain', 'tennesse', 'far', 'enough', 'hometown', 'canton', 'georgia', 'close', 'enough', 'visit', 'two', 'children', 'grown', 'live', 'live', 'metropolitan', 'area', 'atlanta', 'despit', 'spirit', 'heavi', 'left', 'loss', 'instantli', 'fell', 'love', 'cabin', 'eagerli', 'left', 'white', 'picket', 'fenc', 'behind', 'fit', 'right', 'new', 'commun', 'due', 'tendenc', 'keep', 'someth', 'foreign', 'around', 'part', 'nearest', 'neighbor', 'live', 'roughli', 'mile', 'dirt', 'gravel', 'road', 'sweet', 'elderli', 'coupl', 'retir', 'virginia', 'would', 'drop', 'can', 'preserv', 'free', 'charg', 'came', 'learn', 'name', 'eugen', 'meredith', 'one', 'occas', 'invit', 'supper', 'drink', 'kindli', 'accept', 'offer', 'finish', 'dinner', 'sat', 'around', 'kitchen', 'tabl', 'drink', 'share', 'stori', 'night', 'first', 'time', 'heard', 'odd', 'happen', 'plagu', 'commun', 'past', 'decad', 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4,claire_e_albers,"The women howled with laughter as they finished their second bottle of wine. Diane reached for a third bottle that was sitting on the counter and started to top off both the glasses, but Heather stopped her.
“As much as I would love another glass, I should be getting home. It’s pretty late, and I have a bit of a drive yet.”
“How late is it?” Diane glanced at the clock. “1:00? Already?” She asked in surprise.
“Time flies when you’re having fun,” Heather answered with a smile.
The ladies stood (rather unsteadily) and hugged each other. Heather started gathering her things and made her way towards the door.
“We must do this more often. I love John to death, but he just doesn’t know how to gossip!”
“I know. We’re just so busy with Timmy’s soccer schedule right now. I’ll make sure and give you a ring soon though!” Diane opened the front door for her friend and waved goodbye.
“Please drive safe!”
“Will do!” Heather called before closing her car door.
She knew she wasn’t in the best condition to drive, but she had to get home: John was away visiting his parents so Heather needed to go and relieve the babysitter.
*That poor girl.* Heather thought. Her son David had just entered his terrible twos and refused to go to bed even when John and Heather were home. She didn’t even want to imagine the fit he had probably thrown earlier that night.
Heather sighed and tried to focus on the road. The steady rumble of the engine, accompanied by the seat warmer (and the alcohol) was quickly making her eyelids droop. She shook herself awake and switched on the radio:
“*-Five bodies have turned up in the past two weeks, an unusually high number for the small town of Chadron. Due to large differences in the details of the murders, police are wary to label this as the work of a serial killer. However, as more bodies turn up, a pattern is changing this notion. Every victim so far has been missing a piece of their bod-*
Heather quickly turned off the radio, grumbling to herself about the amount of bad news these days.
She still had quite a while to drive, considering that she lived about 20 miles outside of town. It wouldn’t be that bad, except it was a rarely-used backroad with a streetlight only every couple miles. Not to mention only one radio station came through clearly!
Heather sighed again and checked her rearview mirror. Movement in the backseat caught her eye, and she squinted, straining her eyes in the darkness. As the car sped past a streetlight, a horrible, grinning face slowly emerged from the shadows.
Heather stared in horror, and the hideous figure let out a terrifying high-pitched giggle. His black eyes found hers, and he slowly lifted a gnarled finger to point to the front of the car. Heather turned just in time to see her car hurdling straight for a huge oak tree.
The man (if you could call him that) giggled again as Heather choked on her own blood, staring in horror at the large branch protruding from her chest.
**\~** **\~** **\~**
Sheriff White came to a stop, cursing as his coffee sloshed onto his pants. It was too early for this shit, and he hated starting his day off with car wrecks.
White got out of his car and addressed the sheriff standing next to the crushed vehicle.
“Another drunk driver I assume?” White asked.
“That’s what we thought until we took a look at the driver…”
White, confused, stepped closer to the wreck and fought the urge to vomit. The woman,
who was impaled by a sharp branch, stared with bloody, empty eye sockets, mouth still twisted into a scream. ",Eyes On the Road,"['women', 'howl', 'laughter', 'finish', 'second', 'bottl', 'wine', 'dian', 'reach', 'third', 'bottl', 'sit', 'counter', 'start', 'top', 'glass', 'heather', 'stop', '“a', 'much', 'would', 'love', 'anoth', 'glass', 'get', 'home', 'it’', 'pretti', 'late', 'bit', 'drive', 'yet”', '“how', 'late', 'it”', 'dian', 'glanc', 'clock', '“100', 'already”', 'ask', 'surpris', '“time', 'fli', 'you’r', 'fun”', 'heather', 'answer', 'smile', 'ladi', 'stood', 'rather', 'unsteadili', 'hug', 'heather', 'start', 'gather', 'thing', 'made', 'way', 'toward', 'door', '“we', 'must', 'often', 'love', 'john', 'death', 'doesn’t', 'know', 'gossip”', '“i', 'know', 'we’r', 'busi', 'timmy’', 'soccer', 'schedul', 'right', 'i’ll', 'make', 'sure', 'give', 'ring', 'soon', 'though”', 'dian', 'open', 'front', 'door', 'friend', 'wave', 'goodby', '“pleas', 'drive', 'safe”', '“will', 'do”', 'heather', 'call', 'close', 'car', 'door', 'knew', 'wasn’t', 'best', 'condit', 'drive', 'get', 'home', 'john', 'away', 'visit', 'parent', 'heather', 'need', 'go', 'reliev', 'babysitt', 'poor', 'girl', 'heather', 'thought', 'son', 'david', 'enter', 'terribl', 'two', 'refus', 'go', 'bed', 'even', 'john', 'heather', 'home', 'didn’t', 'even', 'want', 'imagin', 'fit', 'probabl', 'thrown', 'earlier', 'night', 'heather', 'sigh', 'tri', 'focu', 'road', 'steadi', 'rumbl', 'engin', 'accompani', 'seat', 'warmer', 'alcohol', 'quickli', 'make', 'eyelid', 'droop', 'shook', 'awak', 'switch', 'radio', '“five', 'bodi', 'turn', 'past', 'two', 'week', 'unusu', 'high', 'number', 'small', 'town', 'chadron', 'due', 'larg', 'differ', 'detail', 'murder', 'polic', 'wari', 'label', 'work', 'serial', 'killer', 'howev', 'bodi', 'turn', 'pattern', 'chang', 'notion', 'everi', 'victim', 'far', 'miss', 'piec', 'bod', 'heather', 'quickli', 'turn', 'radio', 'grumbl', 'amount', 'bad', 'news', 'day', 'still', 'quit', 'drive', 'consid', 'live', 'mile', 'outsid', 'town', 'wouldn’t', 'bad', 'except', 'rarelyus', 'backroad', 'streetlight', 'everi', 'coupl', 'mile', 'mention', 'one', 'radio', 'station', 'came', 'clearli', 'heather', 'sigh', 'check', 'rearview', 'mirror', 'movement', 'backseat', 'caught', 'eye', 'squint', 'strain', 'eye', 'dark', 'car', 'sped', 'past', 'streetlight', 'horribl', 'grin', 'face', 'slowli', 'emerg', 'shadow', 'heather', 'stare', 'horror', 'hideou', 'figur', 'let', 'terrifi', 'highpitch', 'giggl', 'black', 'eye', 'found', 'slowli', 'lift', 'gnarl', 'finger', 'point', 'front', 'car', 'heather', 'turn', 'time', 'see', 'car', 'hurdl', 'straight', 'huge', 'oak', 'tree', 'man', 'could', 'call', 'giggl', 'heather', 'choke', 'blood', 'stare', 'horror', 'larg', 'branch', 'protrud', 'chest', 'sheriff', 'white', 'came', 'stop', 'curs', 'coffe', 'slosh', 'onto', 'pant', 'earli', 'shit', 'hate', 'start', 'day', 'car', 'wreck', 'white', 'got', 'car', 'address', 'sheriff', 'stand', 'next', 'crush', 'vehicl', '“anoth', 'drunk', 'driver', 'assume”', 'white', 'ask', '“that’', 'thought', 'took', 'look', 'driver…”', 'white', 'confus', 'step', 'closer', 'wreck', 'fought', 'urg', 'vomit', 'woman', 'impal', 'sharp', 'branch', 'stare', 'bloodi', 'empti', 'eye', 'socket', 'mouth', 'still', 'twist', 'scream']"
5,claire_e_albers,"“Tiffany. *Let’s go.* We still have to pick up Brad.”
“Chill out Megan. I’m almost done.”
“We’re going to be late. I didn’t even want to go to this stupid thing in the first place.”
Tiffany swung the door open and strolled out of the bathroom and the smell of hairspray, cheap perfume, and teenage insecurity followed close behind. She stopped in front of her friend--who already had her car keys in her hand—and did a quick twirl.
“How do I look?”
Megan paused to look her friend up and down. “Like a slut.”
“What do you mean?” Tiffany asked with a huff.
“I can practically see your entire ass Tiff.”
Tiffany started walking toward her closet. “I guess I’ll just have to change then.”
Megan grabbed Tiffany’s arm. “No no no. You are *not* changing again. We’re leaving.”
The two girls hopped in Megan’s god-awful green Subaru and sped off toward a fun-filled night.
Tiffany pulled the visor down and began fixing her hair in the mirror. “I’m *so* glad Halloween is on a Friday this year. I hate when it lands in the middle of a week. Going to school with a hangover sucks.”
“Totally. Speaking of, reach under there.” Megan pointed to underneath the passenger’s seat.
Tiffany reached under the seat and felt around before pulling out a rather large bottle of vodka. “Where did you get this?” She squealed.
“I snagged it from my parent’s cabinet. They won’t miss it.” She said with a smirk.
Megan pressed the brake and maneuvered the car into a driveway. Brad slipped into the backseat and greeted the two girls.
“You look good Tiff. I like the costume.” He said, looking at her legs and chest. “I’m not usually a cat person, but I think I can make an exception for you.” After ungluing his eyes from Tiffany, Brad turned to address Megan.
“And where is your costume?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.
“I decided, unlike some people, to wear clothing considering that it is only fifty degrees tonight.” Megan retorted.
“Fair enough,” Brad said, smiling.
The car raced through the darkness for about 20 minutes, before pulling into a small clearing in front of a forest. The forest was fairly large (about 40 square miles), and completely uninhabited other than the occasional camper. Car doors slammed as the teens got out of the car, a little tipsy due to the now half-empty vodka bottle in the backseat.
“Are you sure this is the right place Brad?” Megan asked warily.
“Yes, I’m sure. My buddy said that this is the best scare walk around.”
“I don’t know. It seems a bit sketch.” Megan nervously chewed her fingernails.
“Oh come on Meg. It’ll be fun!” Tiffany grabbed Megan’s hand and dragged her toward the dark forest.
“Wait for me!” Brad jogged to catch up with the girls.
**\~** **\~** **\~**
“Did anyone think to bring a flashlight?” Megan grumbled.
“It’s not that dark Meg,” Tiffany replied.
“I’m tripping over everything! Brad, can I use your phone for a flashlight?”
“Um, my phone is dead.”
“Tiff?” Megan asked
“I left mine in the car. Where’s yours?”
“It’s at Verizon getting fixed, remember?”
“Oh yeah. I think we’ll be ok. The moon is pretty bright tonight.”
Suddenly, Megan gasped.
“What? Are you ok?” Brad asked, worried.
Megan looked around suspiciously. “I thought I heard something.”
“Stop being so paranoid Megan,” Tiffany said absentmindedly.
Brad stopped. “No, wait. I hear it too.”
The trio stopped and listened intently. The noise started out soft, but gradually grew louder. Tiffany cocked her head to the side, listening.
“It sounds like, a chainsaw?” She turned toward the noise, and peered into the darkness. Suddenly, she screamed and pointed. A figure emerged from behind the trees holding a chainsaw, running straight for Megan, Brad, and Tiffany. Megan took off sprinting, with Brad and Tiffany not far behind. They navigated the uneven ground the best they could in the dark, but still tripped over tree roots and rocks frequently. Behind them, the roaring of the chainsaw, accompanied by raspy breathing, grew louder.
They had been running for about 5 minutes when Tiffany, who was behind Brad and Megan, started slowing down. The figure took this opportunity to grab her hair and wrench her to the ground. Tiffany screamed as the masked figure (presumably a man) put a bag over her head.
Brad looked behind him and saw the masked man standing over Tiffany’s motionless body. He stopped running, with the intentions of going to help Tiffany, and at that moment, two more dark figures appeared and quickly wrestled Brad to the ground.
Megan was completely unaware that her friends were no longer behind her; she just kept running. However, when she realized that she no longer heard footsteps, breathing, or the chainsaw behind her, she stopped.
Where were Brad and Tiff? How had one person managed to take out both of her friends? Was this all just part of the Halloween game?
Megan started to panic, looking around frantically for a sign of her friends. After a moment’s hesitation, she turned on her heel and ran back toward her friends… and right into a tree branch. Megan fell to the ground in a heap, unconscious.
**\~** **\~** **\~**
Megan, Brad, and Tiffany blinked in the harsh light as the bags were ripped off of their heads. The three friends took in their surrounding with wide eyes: a tiny, decrepit wooden shack, blood-stained walls, rusty metal tools hanging haphazardly, and bits of *remains* splattered on the floor. It looked like a scene out of Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Each teen reacted to the horrifying environment in very different ways:
“What the hell is this?” Tiffany shouted, struggling with the ropes restraining her arms and legs.
Megan started breathing quicker, and anxiously said: “I knew this was a bad idea.”
Brad, however, smiled and said “Guys, my friend was right. This is the best Halloween scare walk *ever!*”
Megan and Tiffany both turned and stared at him.
“What?” Megan squeaked.
“None of this is real guys. It’s all just part of the walk. These people are just actors- and good ones at that!”
Brad had barely finished speaking when one of the ‘actors’ standing in the corner quickly crossed the room and plunged a dull knife into Brad’s throat. A look of surprise crossed Brad’s face as dark red blood spirted in streams from the wound.
Tiffany and Megan screamed in terror. They screamed as Brad was hacked into pieces right in front of them. They screamed as each one of their fingernails were ripped off. They screamed as every one of their toes were crudely cut off with pliers. They screamed as their eyes were gouged out. They only stopped screaming when their mouths were sewn shut and their vocal cords were ripped out. Only Megan was (barely) alive when each of the teen’s faces were ripped off.
**\~** **\~** **\~**
“Hey, Linsey, wait up!”
“What’s up Brock?”
“Friday afternoon Brad told me about this really cool Halloween walk in the forest just outside of town. I think tonight is the last night for it. You wanna go?”
“Totally. That sounds super cool. And I’ll ask Marissa to go too. I know she doesn’t really like that kind of stuff, but maybe she’ll go anyway.”
“Cool. See you tonight!”",Halloween Fun,"['“tiffani', 'let’', 'go', 'still', 'pick', 'brad”', '“chill', 'megan', 'i’m', 'almost', 'done”', '“we’r', 'go', 'late', 'didn’t', 'even', 'want', 'go', 'stupid', 'thing', 'first', 'place”', 'tiffani', 'swung', 'door', 'open', 'stroll', 'bathroom', 'smell', 'hairspray', 'cheap', 'perfum', 'teenag', 'insecur', 'follow', 'close', 'behind', 'stop', 'front', 'friendwho', 'alreadi', 'car', 'key', 'hand—and', 'quick', 'twirl', '“how', 'look”', 'megan', 'paus', 'look', 'friend', '“like', 'slut”', '“what', 'mean”', 'tiffani', 'ask', 'huff', '“i', 'practic', 'see', 'entir', 'ass', 'tiff”', 'tiffani', 'start', 'walk', 'toward', 'closet', '“i', 'guess', 'i’ll', 'chang', 'then”', 'megan', 'grab', 'tiffany’', 'arm', '“no', 'chang', 'we’r', 'leaving”', 'two', 'girl', 'hop', 'megan’', 'godaw', 'green', 'subaru', 'sped', 'toward', 'funfil', 'night', 'tiffani', 'pull', 'visor', 'began', 'fix', 'hair', 'mirror', '“i’m', 'glad', 'halloween', 'friday', 'year', 'hate', 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'cut', 'plier', 'scream', 'eye', 'goug', 'stop', 'scream', 'mouth', 'sewn', 'shut', 'vocal', 'cord', 'rip', 'megan', 'bare', 'aliv', 'teen’', 'face', 'rip', '“hey', 'linsey', 'wait', 'up”', '“what’', 'brock”', '“friday', 'afternoon', 'brad', 'told', 'realli', 'cool', 'halloween', 'walk', 'forest', 'outsid', 'town', 'think', 'tonight', 'last', 'night', 'wanna', 'go”', '“total', 'sound', 'super', 'cool', 'i’ll', 'ask', 'marissa', 'go', 'know', 'doesn’t', 'realli', 'like', 'kind', 'stuff', 'mayb', 'she’ll', 'go', 'anyway”', '“cool', 'see', 'tonight”']"
6,BAKreiger,"
“Where does the despair live?”
I looked up from my computer at Ashley. Failing to come up with a witty response, I let my eyes linger on her figure instead, then raised my face to meet hers. “What?”
“Where does the despair live?” she asked again, still looking down at her keyboard. Her lips spread into an excited grin. Her pupils were wide, dilated. Something was thrilling her.
“I’m not asking, dummy, the test is. You’re going to love this, Dan.”
Ashley assumed a lot on the part of my taste, but I was lovesick enough to forgive this. Blood-red lipstick and blue eyeliner accented her expression of titillation. One ear was riddled with three silver rings, and her red skirt clashed with black boots. I’d never seen her plain, but I knew at her plainest that she had to be a beautiful woman. I loved all of her, even if I was too craven to say so.
What I loved the most, though, was the purple tattoo of a crescent moon on the inside of her right forearm. She could change her hair color, outfit, and makeup each day as her mood struck her. But that tattoo showed a commitment to her spontaneity that would never be discarded. Tattoos were forever.
I wanted to run my finger up and down the edge of that moon.
“What exactly am I going to love?” I asked, spring the trap she’d set; she wouldn’t share her find with me until I asked her.
She got out of her side of the booth, slid into mine, and shoved my half-eaten bagel against the café’s wall. She turned her laptop around to face us, and sidled close to me. These invasions of personal space were not signals of attraction with Ashley. They were claims of territory. We were not intimate, despite my intentions, but she’d staked her claim on me. I belonged to her and she knew it.
“This test is a trip,” she said. “Look.” She pointed at the screen.
The page was titled, *‘The Gray Trial.’* Below this was a phrase in what I could only assume was Latin: *‘Voir Dire’*. I glanced at the site’s address, saw a meaningless jumble of letters and numbers, realized she was viewing the page with her Tor browser.
“You’re on the dark web? I’m not going to see some illegal shit am I?” I fought back an involuntary gag, and could taste bile. I’d let myself spend one weekend traipsing through the anonymous horrors of the dark web. The experiment culminated in an agonizing five minutes of what I’m fairly certain was a snuff film. I’d logged out of Tor and reformatted my hard drive. I’d felt spiritually filthy for weeks.
“Nothing like you’re imagining,” Ashley said. “I like an edge but I keep it classy. Jesus, Dan, its Halloween. We’re supposed to do spooky shit. Just look.”
The browser displayed what appeared to be a colorful geometric puzzle. A series of shapes filled a hazy field. On one side was a large circle, with the letter ‘A’ beneath it. On the distant end of the field, near the edge of the screen, was a small, five-pointed star. The letter ‘B’ was inscribed next to it.
At the bottom of the screen was the question, which was even more confusing: *Where does the despair live?* I could click one of two radio buttons, ‘A’, or ‘B’.
“What do you think?” Ashley said, her eyes still enchanted by the screen.
“I just see shapes. Colors,” I said. This kind of interactive media was beyond me. *Chutes and Ladders* is about as wild as I can get on my own power.
Ashley, however, was in her wheelhouse.
“Ease up and give this a real chance,” she said, putting one hand on my arm. “Just look at the picture, think on the question, and listen to your gut.” She knew how to get what she wanted out of me. I was her marionette, and she liked to pull the strings.
“Okay,” I said, looking at the screen again. I tried to let the shapes, the pulsing haze, sink into me, and to assess how I was reacting to each. Relaxed but engaged, I found myself starting to humanize the shapes, to ascribe feelings to them.
“The star,” I said. “The star is where the despair lives. It’s more alone, somehow. Click ‘B’.”
Ashley smiled, gave my arm one encouraging, exquisite squeeze, then clicked ‘B’.
Another image with a matching question popped up.
“There’s more?” I said.
Ashley shook her head. “There are *lots* more. And it gets weirder. That was your first one, you should do the whole thing with me. I already did it and got my results.”
“Results?”
“Well, the site called it a ‘summons,’ but it’s something like an analysis of your character,” Ashley said. “I think it’s a personality test. I haven’t done one of these since the Briggs Myers in psych when I was an undergrad.”
“So this thing is going to tell me if I’m an introvert or an extrovert but do it while teaching me to have fun with shapes and colors?”
“This is better, trust me. It’s much more than a personality test. Keep going.”
I kept going.
The next screen was a sea of colors, splashed across a digital canvas. Every few seconds, one of the bits of color would move, inching along like a worm, then stop. The question: *Where is the danger?* ‘A’ was in a morass of red curls, which I likened to blood and flame. ‘B’ marked a jagged arch of bone-white, reminding me of teeth. I chose ‘B’.
“I got that question too, but went with ‘A’,” Ashley said. “Red is dead. Don’t you know anything?” She elbowed me in the ribs, and I smiled, savoring the touch.
“I’m still not impressed. This… trial… is pretty tame for you. I don’t see what you got so excited about in the first place.”
She winked. “Just keep going.”
The next screen was a photo of a child’s bedroom. The figure of a boy, his back turned to the viewer, hid under bed covers. The question was: *Which one is plotting?* ‘A’ indicated a small, tattered clown doll, lying in one corner, its dead eyes oriented toward the bed. ‘B’ marked the closet door, slightly ajar.
“Okay,” I said. “You’re getting to me.”
As I clicked ‘B’, the photo faded from the screen, and I heard a faint snuffling, a child’s gasp, a faint whine, and then silence.
“Christ,” I said. The noises startled me, and my heart skipped a beat.
“It gets more immersive the further you get,” Ashley said.
It did, and as the test progressed, I was gnawed at by a sense of growing anxiety and gloom. The command, *Find the treachery*, accompanied the painting of a toddler stumbling toward the edge of a cliff. A masked troll held out a morsel, tempting the child. The child’s mother, exhausted and unkempt, watched on, failing to intervene. The chimes from a child’s music box played in the background. I selected the mother. The troll, suddenly animated, grasped the child’s foot. The child turned to its negligent mother for help as the picture faded to black.
The next screen showed a photo, which must have been staged. It portrayed a weeping, enraged man plunging a dagger into the chest of a naked woman. Both of these figures wore wedding rings. A second man, naked in the bed next to the woman, did not. I heard the slow creaking of a noose. The test asked, *Who is the victim?* My options were the adulteress or her lover. I chose the paramour, and was rewarded with the sound of a breaking bone.
The test consumed my attention. I felt like some perverse voyeur, and I absolutely had to see the next dark inquiry the test would conjure. My eyes darted from question to image, reading one, devouring the other.
*Where is the redemption?* A bleeding old hag, or a voluptuous, naked woman with a crow’s beak and webbed feet.
*Why is it crying?* The slit wrist of a man or the flames of the burning house that surrounded him.
*Find the gloom.* A crushed spider or popped balloon, strangely oozing with blood.
*One of these is breathing.* A tree-house with a crying child trapped inside, or the statue of an angel in the graveyard below, its face chipped away to nothing.
Faster and faster I scrolled through the questions. My palms were sweating. I was, embarrassingly, becoming aroused.
*Let me see you.* Yes or no, framed beneath a dusty, chipped mirror. I clicked ‘no’ without hesitation.
*Where will you hold my hand?* A photo of the interior of Ashley’s cluttered apartment, next to an image of a desolate field in the middle of winter.
“What the hell?” I said, sliding back in the booth like I’d been punched in the gut. A shot of panic burned down my spine.
“Just pick one,” Ashley whispered. She pressed tightly against me. I could feel her taught body against mine. Both our hearts were hammering. Her eyes were fixed to the screen. She licked her lips.
Slowly, I dragged the cursor over to the select ‘A’, Ashley’s room.
The screen faded to white.
Ashley leaned back away from me, laying her head on the back of the booth, and breathed deeply. “Oh, Danny boy, what a ride you gave me.” She turned to look at me, and drew her hair, somehow tousled, away from her eyes. “You threw me for some curves on a few of your answers. Wasn’t that a rush?”
Disoriented, I shook my head. The test had taken me from nauseous to aroused and back again, and those are two feelings I don’t like to mix.
“How did it get a picture of your apartment?” I wiped my sweaty palms on my pant legs.
Her eyes brightened. “Oh, that! That’s one of my pictures, it’s saved on my laptop. The site’s code probably snagged the file and loaded it to freak out the user. It’s a pretty sweet trick.”
“Don’t you have to upload that manually? Or download something for the site to work that way?”
She shook her head. “Not if the site’s code is elegant enough. I’m sure it did something malicious to my machine if it could pull one of my photos like that, but I’m not even mad, I’m impressed. This is why I back up my files up every week, so I can play with toys like this.” She pointed at the screen. “Your reading’s up.”
The images and questions posed by the trial had so engrossed me that I’d forgotten about its end-state; to read me, analyze me.
I faced her laptop and read.
*The Gray Trial weighs you, and your nature is revealed.*
*You will be a victim and the pain you suffer will define your life. Only the Dark Star can adjust your fetters. Lose yourself in its light, its light, its blind-gash light and you might find a shred of Truth.*
*You may die young, and if so, by your own hand. If you survive this agony, a brief fortune will be afforded to you, but it will be hollow. You will recognize it as such but you will seize upon it anyway. The light of the old faiths may protect you for a time but you will fail the test that will save you.*
*You submit to manipulation until you die, even though you are left empty handed. You are a coward at heart. Counter this with the consumption of raw meat in the light of Orion’s belt.*
“This is… insane,” I said.
My eyes were wide. I wanted to discount these maddening paragraphs as gibberish, but parts of them left me breathless.
Ashley gripped my arm as she read. “Twisted, right? Not another hackneyed exercise in self-affirmation. This stuff… penetrates. I didn’t feel good about what it said about me, but it was damn precise. Yours too, right?”
“No,” I said, too quickly. “This is an elaborate fortune-cookie. It’s trying to tell me my future.” I didn’t want to address the parts that *were* readings, discuss my tendency to be manipulated, to look at the strings that tied me to Ashely’s hands. “And what’s the Dark Star? And this… ritual, I guess? To eat raw meat in the light of Orion’s belt?”
Ashley curled a strand of her hair on her finger as she deliberated, reading the screen again. “It’s not *all* fortune-telling,” she said. Mercifully, she didn’t point out the parts that weren’t. “There’s more, if you want,” she said.
“What do you mean?”
“You can take the next step.” She put her hands on top of mine over the keyboard, moved the cursor to a button at the bottom of the page marked ‘proceed’, and clicked it.
*Weep the gray tears, Seeker,* the next page began. *You, too, might be shriven. We may be summoned, and the Doctors will tally the blood of the veil. Open the gate, and we shall enter.*
Below this invitation were boxes for inputting personal information: name, address, phone number.
And beneath this was a photo of a doctor in a white lab coat, his back to me. A string was tied around the back of his head, as though he wore a surgical mask. He had one comforting hand, wearing a medical glove, on the head of a child. The boy’s back was hunched, clutching his elbows, as though warming himself.
“Absolutely not,” I said. I shoved the laptop over to Ashley.
“You’re not the slightest bit curious?” she said.
“Yeah, but my spider-sense is sounding all five alarms. I wouldn’t give my info to anyone via the dark web. This is how you end up as a victim on ‘*Faces of Death*’. This has bad vibes written all over it, Ash.”
Her eyes flicked to me at my use of her pet name. “Then maybe I want bad vibes.”
My eyes widened. “You filled this out? You gave them your *address?*”
She was enjoying the grinder she was putting me through. “Yeah,” she said, moving back to her booth. “Trick or treat!”
I opened my mouth to protest, then closed it. The damage was done. She couldn’t take it back.
“I know what I’m getting into,” she said. I doubted that, but her face told me I’d never convince her otherwise. “I get it. Whoever made this is off his rocker. But I want to know what the next step is, if there’s even a next step at all. What are they going to do with my information? Try to convert me to their crackpot philosophy?”
She was talking more to herself now than to me. I couldn’t shake her from her line of inquiry. “And who’s to say this guy, or these people, are nuts at all. Christians were cultists until Constantine blessed off on them. Maybe this guy’s selling something I want to buy.” She was all defiance then, flashing her characteristic commitment to dip into the discomfiting. But whereas I’d be content with a look, Ashley needed a taste.
“Ease up, Dan. They won’t come and *find* me,” she said. I hadn’t even considered that, and the fact that she had, and dismissed it, made me even more concerned. “The dark web is for anonymity.”
“It is until you tell someone your name,” I said.
Ashley pressed on. “He doesn’t want to be found, and he doesn’t want to find me. He just wants to give me the next test. And I want to take it.”
Earlier in my failed, clumsy courtship I might’ve continued pleading with her. I knew now that this would only make her dig her feet in deeper.
“Yeah,” I said, giving what amounted to a blessing. “The next test.”
“Besides,” she said, collecting her laptop and standing up, “If anything goes wrong, I’ve got you around to protect me.” She looked at me, clasped her hands together and tilted slightly to one side, the perfect damsel in distress.
I sighed internally, resigned to my own weakness, and the pleasure I felt from even this most transparent appeal to my chivalry. “Yeah. You do.”
“Gotta go,” she said. “Happy Halloween!”
…
The next test arrived the following day, an overnight delivery. This frightened me.
“Overnight’s expensive. And it shows an intense interest,” I said, all caution.
“I know!” Ashley said, all delight.
She’d shown up at my loft unannounced, in a red and blue flannel shirt over a purple skirt and fishnet stockings. A chill autumn wind and a few dried leaves followed behind her like a bridal train, or a corpse’s dress. I closed the door behind her and reached out for the package.
The manila envelope clashed against her fingernails, painted blood red. Written on the front of the packet, in ominous, bold script, was one word: REVELATIO.
No return address, just a title: ECCLESIA.
She dumped the contents, a card and a few photos, on my table, inviting me to look. Written by hand on a small card, in a twitching scrawl, was an invitation:
*Your insight has been reviewed by the Doctors. You might soon bask in the vacuum and the resplendence. The light. The light! Your fetters are aligned. All can be shriven. Grasp the chains and revel in your slavery. Answer truly and Truth in turn is revealed.*
Stamped at the bottom was a meaningless garble of letters. I pointed at it.
“The dark web address I used to submit my response,” she said.
“Response to what?”
“These,” she said, setting the card aside and laying three photos side by side.
Glancing at them, I grew ill.
The first showed a man, his face wide in a mournful wail, lifting the cold, white corpse of a woman in a bride’s dress out of pond. The man was marked ‘A’, the corpse, ‘B.’ The question: *Who is happier?*
The second displayed a paramilitary squad from some South American fascist regime, their rifles raised, eyes wide and anxious, sighting in on a group of blind-folded priests and nuns, some with mouths open in protest, pressed against a wall. The gunmen were ‘A’, the religious were ‘B’. The question: *Where does the revenant grow?*
The third demonstrated tragic precision. A comely young woman stepped into a street, her smartphone raised just below her face, her long, smooth leg about to be clipped by the car speeding through the cross-walk. The driver was in view as well, one hand on the wheel, the other on his own smart-phone. It was inevitable that the woman would be crushed beneath the car. Neither driver nor pedestrian had registered this yet. The driver was ‘A’, the woman was ‘B’. The task: *Find the regret.*
I shoved the photos away walked over to my sink. “God. I think those are real.”
“I think everything’s been real,” Ashley said, her voice a whisper. She slid the photos together, kept her hands pressed upon them, rubbing them with a reverent touch, as though they were jewels, or prized heirlooms.
…
The next morning, Ashley received another envelope. She invited me over this time, and I gladly accepted. A garish, purple shawl hung from her shoulders, and a dark blue bowler cap rested on her head. Her apartment, as always, was a mess. Half-finished paintings were leaned against one wall, and unfolded laundry was strewn over the couch. Incense burners and mostly used candle-sticks sat on shelves. Her small black cat slept beneath a dust-covered acoustic guitar propped up in a corner.
She tapped a wooden crate sitting on the counter she used as a dinner table. “They cranked this shit up to eleven.” She was stone-faced. I’d been expecting her to be watching me with her usual anticipation, waiting to thrive on my discomfort. Something, finally, had bothered her.
One word was splashed across the side of the crate in that same wild scrawl, like some kind of charm, or warning: TRANSCENDENTIAM.
Inside the crate, resting on top of packing hay, was another greeting card:
*The Wardens see glimmers in your path. A supplicant was castigated and the entrails revealed the greatest pleasures. The Haruspex wants his hands on you. Yield, yield, place your neck beneath the blade and be saved. Drink the marrow in the light of the new moon. Answer truly and Truth in turn is revealed.*
At the bottom of the card, another garbled dark web address.
With dread, I set the card down.
“What’s inside?” I asked.
She shook her head at me and gestured at the box. “Seek and ye shall find.”
I slowly moved toward the box, my arms heavy and reluctant. I picked away at the packing hay, half-convinced that some horror-movie monster would leap out and grab me.
Instead, I found a jar of murky formaldehyde, with a crude letter ‘A’ inscribed on the lid. I set it on the table and stared. I could make out the twisting, corkscrew form of some dark shape. “What freak-show biology experiment is this? A pickled eel?”
“Try anatomy experiment,” Ashley said.
I looked closer, and recognized the organ’s curves. “Christ! Intestines?”
She said nothing, could only nod and turn away.
I threw up my hands. “I draw the line at human organs. Ashley, you’ve got to step away from this right now.”
“If that was where you draw the line, then exhibit ‘B’ is beyond the pale.”
“What is it?” I imagined lifting up another jar to see a severed head staring back at me.
“Nothing so macabre as that,” she said, nodding at the intestines.
Glaring at her, I swore again, and turned my attention back to the crate. Inside was a small, foot-long box with a jagged ‘B’ written on it. The box was heavy for its size. Whatever was inside had to be dense, perhaps something metal.
I opened it.
A small, black handgun, oiled and clean, slid into my free hand. I’d seen it in dozens of war movies and recognized it instantly.
It was a luger. Inscribed on the pistol grip was a swastika.
“Jesus!” I shouted. “A goddamn Nazi gun?” Images of SS Stormtroopers flashed across my mind. Alarmed, as if the luger would go off on its own, I set it on table, its barrel pointed away from us. “Is it loaded?”
Ashley swallowed and took a small black rectangle out of her pocket. “I already took the magazine out.” She handed it to me.
It contained a single round.
“No question?” I asked, steadying myself and clearing my throat.
“There’s always a question,” she said, and with one swipe of her hand, she tore the rest of the packing hay out of the box. Painted on the bottom in large, threatening letters, was the question: *Which offers freedom?*
…
There was a pounding at my door.
“Open the door, goddammit!” Ashley’s voice was shrill. I’d never heard her so shaken. I jumped off my couch, rushed to the door, and opened it.
Ashley leapt inside, shut the door, and bolted it.
“Jesus Christ, Dan, don’t you answer your phone anymore?” she asked, nearly shouting.
Even through her anger, I knew her voice shook mostly from terror. I’d only seen Ashley this livid when a drunk driver crashed into her parked car outside her apartment.
But I was completely taken aback by Ashley’s appearance. For the first time since I’d known her, she looked plain. No wildly clashing colors, no extreme bracelets or hooked jewelry, no purple eye shadow or blue lipstick. Nothing to hint at her rotating styles of noir, goth, or avant-garde. Ashley came as she was. Blue jeans, white t-shirt, and tennis shoes. Her hair hung loose and wild, unkempt. This was Ashley as she’d look first thing in the morning, forced to throw her clothes on in a rush. Ashley in the raw. Resplendent. Wholesome. Her makeup and roguish- accoutrements, I realized, served only to hide how gorgeous she truly was.
I’d never seen her this way before. Something was terribly wrong.
“I’ve been calling you for the last hour, what the hell?!” she said again, shoving me.
“My phone died, it’s charging now,” I said. “What’s wrong? What happened?”
She pushed past me, muttering a litany of swears under her breath. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were wide. She bit on her thumb-nail, and looked around my loft, rapidly surveying it. She strode over to the windows and threw the curtains shut. She shook her head, sighed, and thrust herself onto my couch. She clutched her body with her arms and bent over, staring at the tops of her shoes.
“Daniel,” she said, not looking up at me. “I think I messed up.”
She’d never called me by my formal, given name. I sat next to her. I was hesitant to touch her, thought she might spook. She shook again. Ignoring my trepidation, I took her hand.
“Tell me,” I said.
“I wasn’t going to answer the last question,” she said. She still wasn’t looking at me, still staring at her shoes, but her hand clutched at mine. “I was going to throw that shit away. Maybe sell the gun, I don’t know. Put the card in the trash. But I was stupid. I wanted to know. I *needed* to know what would happen next.”
“What the hell, Ashley?” I said. “You said you were going to take that shit to the cops!”
She looked up at me, biting her lip. Her eyes were full of remorse. I said nothing. She continued.
“So I went to the website and answered. I picked the jar. The jar had the ‘freedom’, whatever the hell they meant by it. I don’t think it would’ve mattered *what* I picked, just that I *did* pick.”
“Oh, God, Ash,” I said.
I would’ve picked the gun. I could guess at what kind of freedom the mad designers of this sick battery of questions meant. The gun felt clean, one trigger pull and it was off to the big sleep. The intestines had implications that made me ill.
“Get me a drink,” she said. “That’s not all.”
I poured myself some whiskey and mixed her a gin and tonic. I brought the drinks over, handed her the cocktail, and she threw it back in one pull. Then she took my whiskey, took a sip, wiped at her mouth, and continued.
“I woke up this morning. Stepped outside to feel the weather on my skin. Gauge how to dress, what to wear. Turned around to go back inside. There was something on my door. On the walls.” She took another drink.
I could feel blood rushing into my ears as anxiety gripped me. “What was it?”
“The next question,” she whispered. “Written on the door. It looked like blood. Maybe something worse. The choices… ‘A’ was on my door, and ‘B’ was on my window. The question…”. Her voice trailed off to silence.
I felt the cold shot of fear dribble down my back like ice cold water. “*What did it say?*”
Her hands shook. The glass of whiskey fell to the ground. She looked me in the eye.
“’*Which is the right way in?*’.”
Everything Ashley assumed had been wrong. Someone was close, knew where she lived, walked right onto her porch. The only thing between her and this raving lunatic she had summoned over the dark web was the glass of her transparent window, and the thin plywood of her rickety door.
She broke down crying. I felt myself panicking, but had to keep my head in the game, get hers back in it, and figure out the next step.
“Okay. We’re calling the police. We’ll get them to sweep your house, maybe keep a patrol car around. You can’t go back there. You can stay here, you can-.”
“I looked it up,” she said, interrupting me. “I pretended to know then so you didn’t think I was stupid, but I didn’t know so I looked it up.”
I didn’t understand, just stared at her, let her talk. She clearly hadn’t been listening to me before anyway.
“Haruspex,” she said. “From the card. ‘*The Haruspex wants his hands on you*’. Those were the priests, from ancient Rome, the ones who told fortunes by… They cut open animals. Live animals. Took out the guts and took a good, hard look at them. Learned the future.” She took both my hands in hers, gripped them until her knuckles were white.
“I don’t want to be shriven!” she said. “I don’t want to grasp the chains! I don’t want any of it!”
She was raving now. I seized her, hugged her tight, and made as many soothing noises as I could, like I was calming a panicked animal. “It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay,” I said, like a prayer, a mantra.
She broke away from me, wiped at her face, and looked at me.
“No it’s not,” she whispered. “Nothing’s okay.” She grabbed me by the hair and kissed me. I kissed her back.
Later, she fell asleep. I held her, tracing my finger along her crescent moon tattoo. I could lose myself in the curving ink. I refused to wonder if the moment had been as significant to her as it had been for me. I didn’t want to think about the probable disparity in how we valued one another. I did want to think about holding her, in my arms, like a lover. Because I loved her.
I bent my head to her arm, placed one last tender kiss on her tattoo, and slept.
…
An hour later, I awoke. Ashley still slept, clutching me. I was starving, knew she would be too when she woke up. Her appetites were haphazard through the day but she was always ravenous after sleeping. My bachelor’s rations consisted mostly of cereal and liquor.
I decided to run to the corner market. I could pick up some bagels, orange juice, maybe some eggs and butter. Splurge on some fresh coffee. When Ashley awoke I wanted her to feel cared for. All I’d been able to offer her before was an open door and a spare place to crash at the end of one of her long nights of mysterious escapades with people far more exciting than me. Now I could feed her proper, help her feel safe. I imagined her giving up her exoticism, and living the same boring routine that I’d been carved for myself. I imagined Ashley coming home to me every day.
I eased myself out of Ashley’s grasp, and watched her breathe as I put on my shoes. She jerked slightly at some ominous dream, trembled briefly, muttered something indecipherable, and then was still. It reminded of the small, sickly rabbit I’d briefly owned as a child, whimpering in its cage the first night in my home after I’d bought it.
I slipped out my front door. Despite the chill, it was a beautiful fall morning. The wind whipped at me, the changing leaves lit the trees like a sunrise, and I could still smell Ashley on my shirt. I breathed in deeply and, for the first time in a long time, felt the warmth of real contentment.
When I got back from the store, the bed was empty. Ashley was gone.
It shouldn’t have surprised me that she’d jet after being intimate. She wouldn’t want to deal with what had happened, or talk about any change in our relationship. If she’d stuck around, she might’ve tried to joke it off, and pretend it was a lark.
“No,” I said, shaking my head. I wanted her. She’d wanted me. I wasn’t going to let this slip away. I picked up my phone and dialed her.
It went straight to voicemail. Perhaps she’d turned her phone off on purpose, to prevent me trying to talk it out until time had passed and things had cooled.
But the more I thought about it, the more wrong it felt. As scared as she’d been last night, after seeing that message on her door, why would she leave? She wouldn’t go back to her place. I tried to call again, and once more, her phone went straight to voicemail.
There were dozens of places Ashley could’ve run off to, other haunts, other friends and flings I’d never met, or seen only in passing as Ashley dragged me along to some grim art-house cinema or used occult book store. She could’ve crashed with any of them as easily as she’d crashed with me.
But the memory of her panic and tears flashed through my mind. I remembered again the scared rabbit I used to own. Forced myself to recall how I’d lost it, and what its body looked like after a fox had gotten to it.
I drove to her apartment, ran up the steps to her porch, knocked on the door, and then stopped, taken aback: The marking, or message, that had so terrified Ashley wasn’t there. Wiped away, or never written, I wouldn’t know. I knocked again, and when there was still no response I tried the handle. It was open. I went inside.
“Ashley?” I called out, entering cautiously. I looked around, was met with the typical mess. Her cat climbed out from the bottom of a pile of laundry, sat down in front of me, and meowed. I reached down, scratched it behind the ears, and surveyed the rest of the apartment.
Empty.
I refilled her cat’s food and water, went outside, and sat on her porch. I stared out at the gray skies, felt the bite of the wind on my face and hands. My eyes threatened to fill with tears, and I fought them back.
The police, when I called them, asked their typical boilerplate questions, filed a report, and did little else. They figured Ashley for another of a thousand free spirits who dip out of town every year to start life again somewhere else. They told me grown adults were free to disappear if they wanted, that she’d show up again when the road wore her out.
I told them about the cards and their mad ravings, the morbid photos, the intestines and the gun, told them about the website and the Gray Trial. They asked me to produce these articles. But every card, every photo, every physical object attesting to the trial had disappeared from Ashley’s apartment. The officers asked me if I was currently receiving psychiatric treatment, on any medication, and if they could help me find my doctor.
They left, and I realized how insane I must have sounded. I’m a logical person. I applied the cut of Occam’s Razor. The simplest explanation was that Ashley had gone to ground, spooked by our unexpected intimacy. She’d turn up in a day or so.
…
After two weeks I was certain that she’d bailed on her whole life. I tracked down everyone I thought she knew, but knew where she could be. I was the last person to see her. She didn’t even come back for her cat. Instead of making the depressing pilgrimage to feed the animal each day, I adopted him, brought him to my loft to live with me.
I skipped work and spent days online trying to get a lead on where Ashley went. I trawled through every form of social media, searching every alias I figured she might cook up, hunting for any clue. I put every picture of her I could find through reverse image searches, hoping to turn up some hint as to where she could be. All to naught. I followed up with the police, and they were as flummoxed as I was.
She had vanished without a trace, and everything leading up to her departure went back to the unsettling events surrounding that damnable trial.
The only lead I had was buried in the anonymity of the dark web. So I followed it.
I went back to Ashley’s apartment, now with a bright eviction notice pasted on the front door. I stole her laptop and brought it home.
I fired up her computer. The Tor browser was still open. It was on the home page for the Gray Trial. I could play this game again with a single click.
My fingers trembled.
*Click.*
The first images were innocuous enough. It began like last time, with shapes, colors, and paradoxical inquiries. I answered with instinct, and completed these questions instantly. *Click.**
Next, as before, the drawings, animations, and disturbing sounds. I felt bile rising in my throat, but moved through each horror. My heart was racing, pounding in my chest. *Click. Click. Click.*
Then came the photographs. As real in appearance and as unsettling as those that were mailed to Ashley. I was gasping, sweating, wiping at my brow. Each submitted answer was like a shot to my gut. *Click. Click.*
*Click.*
The last photo broke me.
Tied to a chair was a woman with a plastic bag over part of her head, bound tightly just above her nose, concealing her eyes and hair. A ball was stuffed in her mouth, strapped to her head like some bondage prop. Her lips, even confined by the ball gag, were stretched back in a scream. She was dressed in a sack-cloth, like an Old Testament penitent. Her wrists were strapped to the arms of the chair.
Behind her was a masked man. The mask had the contours of a human face. Where eyes should have been, there were wild, black, cutting scribbles, as though the eyes had been spitefully gashed out from the photo. The man wore a white doctor’s coat. Over that was a black butcher’s apron.
One gloved hand wielded a filet knife. The edge of the blade was placed against the woman’s arm.
Just below the blade was a purple tattoo of a crescent moon.
I nearly seized. I gripped the edge of my table, tried not to get sick, found myself hyperventilating. I couldn’t take my eyes off the photo. Even through this veil of disorienting shock I was able to find the markings, read the question. The blade was marked ‘A’. The woman’s head was marked ‘B’. The question: *Where does the despair live?*
Weeping, I answered.
And when the test ended, and the prompt rose in front of me, inviting, just as it had before, *Open the gate and we shall enter*, I could do nothing else but submit. I gave them my name. I gave them my address. I invited them in; summoned them.
I wanted them to show me the way to Ashley. At the worst, I’d know where they took her before the end, and show some of them what it means to be shriven, if that’s what they wanted.
But they have yet to come. I am still waiting. I trace a crescent moon on the inside of my right forearm with one finger. The chill autumn wind blows dry leaves across the street, like a bridal train, or a corpse’s dress, and as I watch it, I realize where the despair lives.
It lives in me.
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'butcher’', 'apron', 'one', 'glove', 'hand', 'wield', 'filet', 'knife', 'edg', 'blade', 'place', 'woman’', 'arm', 'blade', 'purpl', 'tattoo', 'crescent', 'moon', 'nearli', 'seiz', 'grip', 'edg', 'tabl', 'tri', 'get', 'sick', 'found', 'hyperventil', 'couldn’t', 'take', 'eye', 'photo', 'even', 'veil', 'disori', 'shock', 'abl', 'find', 'mark', 'read', 'question', 'blade', 'mark', '‘a’', 'woman’', 'head', 'mark', '‘b’', 'question', 'despair', 'live', 'weep', 'answer', 'test', 'end', 'prompt', 'rose', 'front', 'invit', 'open', 'gate', 'shall', 'enter', 'could', 'noth', 'els', 'submit', 'gave', 'name', 'gave', 'address', 'invit', 'summon', 'want', 'show', 'way', 'ashley', 'worst', 'i’d', 'know', 'took', 'end', 'show', 'mean', 'shriven', 'that’', 'want', 'yet', 'come', 'still', 'wait', 'trace', 'crescent', 'moon', 'insid', 'right', 'forearm', 'one', 'finger', 'chill', 'autumn', 'wind', 'blow', 'dri', 'leav', 'across', 'street', 'like', 'bridal', 'train', 'corpse’', 'dress', 'watch', 'realiz', 'despair', 'live', 'live']"
7,rhemasu,"This is it. I’ve reached the end…or is it the beginning, or the end of the beginning, or the beginning of the end? Whatever it is, I’m learning new things. As far as I can remember, I’ve never been good at multitasking. But right now, the lives of hundreds of people are playing in my head, and I can clearly understand what’s happening to whom. I can see the present lives of the people I cared for while I was alive. Surprisingly, I can see my first crush…in a park with his three children.
And…I can also see Ronia, my precious child. She’s only been on earth for 3 minutes, so it’s not surprising that she doesn’t realise that her mother’s not there. Well, that was what happened. I died giving birth. Suddenly, I remember all the intense bodily pain I had felt the moment before it all went blank.
For a short moment-or it could have been decades, I do not know which-I felt nothing. Then all the memories I had stored in my head until the moment of my death started playing out before me. And then the rest of the lives of everyone I’d ever cared for. I still don’t understand how, but I can keep tabs on all of them at once. I know exactly how each of them feels, and about what. I’m living all their lives along with them.
And as I muse on all that was, all that is, and all that might be, someone calls out to me. It’s a faint voice, almost a whisper, but it’s a whisper that fills my head, and as long as it speaks, I’ll hear nothing else. I don’t know the words, but they make sense to me…in an odd sort of way.
These strange words are telling me that I need to leave them behind. That no matter how much I love them, they’re never going to know me again. That I’m a new being, and these earthlings do not recognize this being that is-for the time being-foreign to them.
And I can do nothing other than whisper “I’ll try.” And then the whisper changes into a different sound…a sort of rumbling, grumbling sound. As if whatever/whoever it is is trying to tell me that trying isn’t good enough. That I simply must leave them behind. So I trust myself to relive the best moments one last time before I let go.
And then…whoosh! I’m off on my way. I don’t remember much about life on earth. I vaguely remember that people exist and that I have loved some, but beyond that: now is the only thing that matters.
Now, I’ve learnt a new lesson: that what matters is the here and the now…anything beyond that is a figment of imagination; anything apart from this ride is a lost cause. Some of it has had its time, the rest will have it too, but here and now, this exhilarating sense of freedom, this refreshing gust of wind, they’re all that matters.
I don’t know where this ride will take me, but I don’t care. Because that isn’t here, that isn’t now, and that does not matter. Right now, the sharp wind, the strange voices, everything I can feel is what matters.
The voices…I hear more voices. All of them seem to be speaking in different tongues. And then realisation strikes: I’m in a new place now. The ride is over. The dozens of voices I hear and interpret at once, the feel of the wind, they’re all real. None of this is happening in my head.
This is real. Suddenly, a scream, from far off in the distance, fills my mind and blocks out every other sound. I blindly follow the sound in the darkness. I can’t see where I’m headed, but I know I’m in the right direction.
Whatever that sound is, it’s so persistent; it scares me. And then, abruptly, it stops. The voice that speaks in my head next is unfamiliar. It’s a new place, a new voice, a new lesson. Don’t care so much…it seems to tell me. The screams…you should be able to block them out. You’re still way too humane to be completely ripped of humanity. You’re not human anymore, you shouldn’t be humane.
I don’t care, though. Whether I’m human, or animal, or angel, or beast…kindness and care run deep in me, and I can’t let go of that. I didn’t say anything aloud, but the voice knows what I just thought.
This is a lesson I don’t want to learn. The voice repeats, calmly, coldly, that I’ll be stuck here, in this darkness forever if I don’t completely let go of my humanity. Because everyone here is neither human, nor angel, neither beast, nor animal. They’re beings on their way to get somewhere, on their way to become something. But they’re all stuck here, because they’re still a lot like humans.
And I don’t know which is worse…becoming unfeeling to become something better known, or becoming an undefined form of existence and clinging to my emotions. I don’t know what to do anymore. So I sit down here, in the dark, lonely place, and cry.
The exhilarating sense of freedom that ride gave me is lost. I feel entrapped. There’s no voice right now. And that scares me more. I want to go back. To somewhere that makes more sense. Back to Earth…or to where I watched their lives play out before me…or even the ride. Anywhere that I can understand myself better than an unknown being, that is neither alive nor dead; and not even undead.
I do not know where I am, or what I’ll do. I’m scared and lonely and frustrated. I can’t see, or hear anything. I smell dampness, and nothing else. I feel cold, though the wind has ceased to exist. And I’ve been here for what could be seconds or centuries. The ghost of that scream that brought me here is still alive in me. My screams escape; unheard even by myself. Maybe someone else has gotten lost because of my screams like I got lost because of someone else’s.
But I don’t know, I have no way to know if my silent screams has filled anyone’s head, I have no way to know whether I’ll ever get out of here and now. I have a feeling that the here and now of this moment, will be the here and now for me forever. That I’m truly lost, and can never be found again.",Here and Now,"['i’v', 'reach', 'end…or', 'begin', 'end', 'begin', 'begin', 'end', 'whatev', 'i’m', 'learn', 'new', 'thing', 'far', 'rememb', 'i’v', 'never', 'good', 'multitask', 'right', 'live', 'hundr', 'peopl', 'play', 'head', 'clearli', 'understand', 'what’', 'happen', 'see', 'present', 'live', 'peopl', 'care', 'aliv', 'surprisingli', 'see', 'first', 'crush…in', 'park', 'three', 'children', 'and…i', 'also', 'see', 'ronia', 'preciou', 'child', 'she’', 'earth', 'minut', 'it’', 'surpris', 'doesn’t', 'realis', 'mother’', 'well', 'happen', 'die', 'give', 'birth', 'suddenli', 'rememb', 'intens', 'bodili', 'pain', 'felt', 'moment', 'went', 'blank', 'short', 'momentor', 'could', 'decad', 'know', 'whichi', 'felt', 'noth', 'memori', 'store', 'head', 'moment', 'death', 'start', 'play', 'rest', 'live', 'everyon', 'i’d', 'ever', 'care', 'still', 'don’t', 'understand', 'keep', 'tab', 'know', 'exactli', 'feel', 'i’m', 'live', 'live', 'along', 'muse', 'might', 'someon', 'call', 'it’', 'faint', 'voic', 'almost', 'whisper', 'it’', 'whisper', 'fill', 'head', 'long', 'speak', 'i’ll', 'hear', 'noth', 'els', 'don’t', 'know', 'word', 'make', 'sens', 'me…in', 'odd', 'sort', 'way', 'strang', 'word', 'tell', 'need', 'leav', 'behind', 'matter', 'much', 'love', 'they’r', 'never', 'go', 'know', 'i’m', 'new', 'earthl', 'recogn', 'isfor', 'time', 'beingforeign', 'noth', 'whisper', '“i’ll', 'try”', 'whisper', 'chang', 'differ', 'sound…a', 'sort', 'rumbl', 'grumbl', 'sound', 'whateverwhoev', 'tri', 'tell', 'tri', 'isn’t', 'good', 'enough', 'simpli', 'must', 'leav', 'behind', 'trust', 'reliv', 'best', 'moment', 'one', 'last', 'time', 'let', 'go', 'then…whoosh', 'i’m', 'way', 'don’t', 'rememb', 'much', 'life', 'earth', 'vagu', 'rememb', 'peopl', 'exist', 'love', 'beyond', 'thing', 'matter', 'i’v', 'learnt', 'new', 'lesson', 'matter', 'now…anyth', 'beyond', 'figment', 'imagin', 'anyth', 'apart', 'ride', 'lost', 'caus', 'time', 'rest', 'exhilar', 'sens', 'freedom', 'refresh', 'gust', 'wind', 'they’r', 'matter', 'don’t', 'know', 'ride', 'take', 'don’t', 'care', 'isn’t', 'isn’t', 'matter', 'right', 'sharp', 'wind', 'strang', 'voic', 'everyth', 'feel', 'matter', 'voices…i', 'hear', 'voic', 'seem', 'speak', 'differ', 'tongu', 'realis', 'strike', 'i’m', 'new', 'place', 'ride', 'dozen', 'voic', 'hear', 'interpret', 'feel', 'wind', 'they’r', 'real', 'none', 'happen', 'head', 'real', 'suddenli', 'scream', 'far', 'distanc', 'fill', 'mind', 'block', 'everi', 'sound', 'blindli', 'follow', 'sound', 'dark', 'can’t', 'see', 'i’m', 'head', 'know', 'i’m', 'right', 'direct', 'whatev', 'sound', 'it’', 'persist', 'scare', 'abruptli', 'stop', 'voic', 'speak', 'head', 'next', 'unfamiliar', 'it’', 'new', 'place', 'new', 'voic', 'new', 'lesson', 'don’t', 'care', 'much…it', 'seem', 'tell', 'screams…you', 'abl', 'block', 'you’r', 'still', 'way', 'human', 'complet', 'rip', 'human', 'you’r', 'human', 'anymor', 'shouldn’t', 'human', 'don’t', 'care', 'though', 'whether', 'i’m', 'human', 'anim', 'angel', 'beast…kind', 'care', 'run', 'deep', 'can’t', 'let', 'go', 'didn’t', 'say', 'anyth', 'aloud', 'voic', 'know', 'thought', 'lesson', 'don’t', 'want', 'learn', 'voic', 'repeat', 'calmli', 'coldli', 'i’ll', 'stuck', 'dark', 'forev', 'don’t', 'complet', 'let', 'go', 'human', 'everyon', 'neither', 'human', 'angel', 'neither', 'beast', 'anim', 'they’r', 'be', 'way', 'get', 'somewher', 'way', 'becom', 'someth', 'they’r', 'stuck', 'they’r', 'still', 'lot', 'like', 'human', 'don’t', 'know', 'worse…becom', 'unfeel', 'becom', 'someth', 'better', 'known', 'becom', 'undefin', 'form', 'exist', 'cling', 'emot', 'don’t', 'know', 'anymor', 'sit', 'dark', 'lone', 'place', 'cri', 'exhilar', 'sens', 'freedom', 'ride', 'gave', 'lost', 'feel', 'entrap', 'there’', 'voic', 'right', 'scare', 'want', 'go', 'back', 'somewher', 'make', 'sens', 'back', 'earth…or', 'watch', 'live', 'play', 'me…or', 'even', 'ride', 'anywher', 'understand', 'better', 'unknown', 'neither', 'aliv', 'dead', 'even', 'undead', 'know', 'i’ll', 'i’m', 'scare', 'lone', 'frustrat', 'can’t', 'see', 'hear', 'anyth', 'smell', 'damp', 'noth', 'els', 'feel', 'cold', 'though', 'wind', 'ceas', 'exist', 'i’v', 'could', 'second', 'centuri', 'ghost', 'scream', 'brought', 'still', 'aliv', 'scream', 'escap', 'unheard', 'even', 'mayb', 'someon', 'els', 'gotten', 'lost', 'scream', 'like', 'got', 'lost', 'someon', 'else’', 'don’t', 'know', 'way', 'know', 'silent', 'scream', 'fill', 'anyone’', 'head', 'way', 'know', 'whether', 'i’ll', 'ever', 'get', 'feel', 'moment', 'forev', 'i’m', 'truli', 'lost', 'never', 'found']"
8,Raul_31," At my core, my battered, shaken core, I have always been a hunter. I felt the call of the forest, my one true home, earlier than I can even remember. I was always obsessed with camping as a kid, as it brought me closer to my element. But it always left me wanting something more, with that pit between my stomach and my groin begging to be filled. I had parents who, I’m sure, loved me. But I loved the wilderness far more, so I ran away from home when I was fourteen. I walked the set of train tracks that led into the woods and never followed it back.
After a few months in those infinite woods, whose nighttime gleam’s beauty matched their humbling sunrises, I ended up in a small, backwater town in Kentucky. No one ever found me, and I’m sure they searched until they lost heart, but they never succeeded. Who would expect a boy who runs away in Ohio to end up in southern Kentucky? But I liked my new home, my loss of identity, my fresh start.
I won’t bore you with the details of how I did it, but twenty years later, I owned property in that little old town. It was nothing extravagant, little more than a one-floor house with a main kitchen area, a bedroom, and a bathroom. But it was my little corner of the world. My sense of normalcy. That and, of course, the little Winchester shotgun I kept under my bed, obscured by the thin, flowery green rag I called a blanket, with which I had spent many chilling winter nights. Every once in a while, I’d wake up in the dead of night, silently creep onto the floor of my room, reach under the bed with one hand and, shaking, pull out the heavy firearm, and disappear into the night without telling anyone. Wouldn’t be seen again by another man until two days later, usually. People must’ve thought I was crazy.
Normally, I’d head back into those same woods I had run away to. I’d fade into a deep nostalgia, recollecting the images of perfect nights surrounded by the peaceful sounds of running water in the distance, the noisy robins mating somewhere beyond my line of sight, and the cicadas chirping rhythmically for some inexplicable purpose. The gleaming bark of birch trees reflecting the eerie light of a full moon. The hues of red, yellow, and brown leaves rustling and falling in the soft autumn wind, like they truly didn’t care where it took them. The scent of earth untainted by man’s agriculture. Hell, I could talk about it for ages, but that isn’t what I’m here to tell you about.
What I loved the most, actually, was the flavor of a fresh kill slowly, evenly roasted on a spit over an open fire. The taste of venison seared on a handmade grate. The aroma of bird, feathers cautiously removed as to preserve every last morsel of meat, slow cooking, filling my campsite with warmth and comfort. Fresh kills were all that could fill not only my stomach, but that pit I was telling you about. It was only when I was hunting that I was ever truly at peace. I’d lay traps, track game, set up blinds; you name it, I’ve tried it at least once. But the thrill of the hunt, and the taste of the kill was what I lived for. Until one night, twenty some years after I found my new life.
As much as I loved the nostalgia and peace of the woods I had hunted for years, I was older and ready to move on. To map out a new forest, and I knew just where to find one. You see, my little house was at the edge of town, next to the old railroad, which had long since fallen into disrepair. It was nearly surrounded by my woods. Their tall, proud trunks still gleaming in the faint moonlight as I knew them to some twenty years before. But my house was also next to a T-section. A road leading to a nearby town ended at the main road through the one where I lived. The railroad cut through at an angle, almost parallel to the road that cut off, and it crossed the main road through town, continuing into the dark beyond the T-section. In the one direction where the roads refused to run. The woods in that direction were… foreboding, to say the least. So in the past, when I went on excursions, I always went to the woods behind my house. My woods.
I don’t know what it was about that night. Maybe it was because it was just like the night I ran away, into a forest I didn’t know. A warm summer night, the cicadas chirping, and the sound of running water in some unknown direction. But I was feeling adventurous. So I turned to the strange forest across the road. I had always known it was there, but I never cared to admire it. You see, some city folk seem to think all woods are the same. But they’re not. It was a completely separate entity from my woods. Unlike my own, they didn’t look very welcoming. Whereas the trees in my woods reflected the moonlight, those trees absorbed it. Sucked all the light away until there was nothing left except an inky, living blackness that, it seemed, would suck you away, too, if you tried to touch it. Instead of a light peppering of ancient trees, it was full of young-blooded ones that fought each other for liveable soil. There was something more alive about them than my own, and yet, far more mysterious. But what set them apart the most was the shape of the trees. They seemed malformed, contorted, jagged. Hopefully you know what I’m talking about. They were those trees that don’t grow straight up, but instead bend off in a million different directions, forming a disturbed canopy over the pitch-black forest floor.
I swallowed the growing lump in my throat and stopped sizing up those woods, out of fear of noticing any more unsettling attributes. It was where I was headed, after all. So, with my heart overriding my logic and my logic overriding my fear, I trudged into those woods like I owned them via the old railroad.
It was about eleven o’clock when I left. I walked into the wall of darkness and was overtaken by a constant sense of tension. It was faint, but there, omnipresent in the jagged woods. As I followed the train tracks, I slowly began to notice something that wasn’t the case in my woods: there were no game trials. In my woods, you could barely take a step without tripping over one, even on the railroad, as there were no trains were running to disturb them. But without any game trails to hike, I didn’t know where to start tracking or where I might set up a blind. So for some reason or another, I thought it logical to simply walk off the tracks.
I fought constantly against thorn bushes, mud, and plants I had seen mixed with ones I hadn’t, none of which I could give you a scientific or even colloquial name for. I knew the appearance and use of every plant, but I never considered their names important. As I marched, a heavy mist began to roll in, overtaking everything and further decreasing the acuity of my sight as it mixed with the blackness. Despite this, I stopped for a moment to take in the sounds of the forest, which, up to this point, I had all but forgotten. The sound of running water in the distance, the noisy robins mating somewhere beyond my line of sight, the… cicadas? I could barely hear the cicadas. Normally, cicadas hush up when they sense danger, and humans definitely qualify. But I didn’t carry a lantern or a flashlight, so they should have still been whispering, telling stories to one another despite my presence. It was as if the woods themselves subdued them, dissuaded them from speaking their ancient language.
Somewhere nearby, an owl hooted. As I turned to look towards where the sound emanated from, I heard the loud, bloodcurdling cry of an animal I had never once heard before. It chilled me to the bone. I don’t even know what to compare it to. Immediately, the owl burst forth from its hole and flew in the opposite direction of the scream. I saw two rabbits sprint in the same direction, ignoring me in the process. The cicadas were completely silent now.
“Silent woods, silent woods. Judge distance. A mile away, maybe? Load shotgun, take ready stance. Dammit, can’t see anything. Tomorrow’s the new moon, and visibility is near zero. Stay calm. Breathe. In through the nose, out through the mouth. What was that thing? A bear? Never heard a bear like that before. Heart’s beating out of my chest. Dear god!”
I still remember my thoughts during those few terrified seconds. The silence heightened the sense of tension. It was peace, but barely. Like those twenty strained years between World Wars I and II. I heard the noise again, this time twice as loud. Half a mile away. A deer leapt out of the thicket in front of me, nearly taking my head off. I ducked out of the way, rolling to the side to avoid it. I wasn’t going to stick around to cheat death again. I followed suit with the other animals and booked it in the opposite direction, not forgetting to grab the shotgun I had dropped on the forest floor.
I ran. Seconds felt like hours, not knowing whether I’d live or die. I thought I was headed towards the edge of the woods, but I didn’t know yet. I was comforted by one thing. I could still hear the screams, quieting as I ran. Two miles, three miles. Then I could barely hear them. Suddenly, I heard a new sound. I recognized it as the pained yelps of a dying black bear, distant, but loud. Then all was silent in the woods again.
Slowly, the animal sounds returned. In addition, a light rain began to fall, filling the woods with the familiar pitter-patter of water droplets making contact with leaves. My clothing was waterproof, so I had little concern. I was, however, beginning to tire. I sauntered a few feet to a large nearby tree. I collected a small pile of nearby leaves and laid it on the ground at its base. With a little bit of comfort, I tried to forget what I had heard. I sat down on the leaves, leaned my back against the tree trunk, and fell into a light, uneasy sleep.
I dreamt, that night, of strange places. First of my old house, and the surrounding neighborhood. Where I had lived as a child. In my dream, I found a sense of belonging there, for once. But I didn’t understand why. Then of my new house. The one I had worked my ass off for. The bedroom I had slept in for years. Then of my town. A little village where everyone was a little strange, like me. Then of the edge of the jagged woods. The way their blackness seemed to swallow you, but almost beckon you at the same time. Then of places I had never seen before. A clearing of grass surrounded by that inky, living blackness. A cave I did not want to enter, that I felt wrong even looking at. Then a tree, jagged, and almost too perfect to truly exist. Then another tree, upon which I saw a hunter getting an uneasy rest…
I awoke in a panic, my heart thumping nearly as quickly as it had the night before, and in a cold sweat. It was a misty, overcast Saturday morning. The ground was wet with the dew and rainfall of the night prior. I looked left, then right, taking in the forest from all angles to calm myself down. I hoisted myself to my feet, taking care not to trip over the roots of the tree I slept on. I picked up my shotgun, cracked my neck, and got ready for a day’s hunt.
And so I spent that day hiking, mapping, laying traps, and attempting to track game. I actually found the railroad again, adding that to my mental sketch of the woods. I also managed to kill a deer, enjoying its blackened flesh for lunch that afternoon. I found myself filled with pride over my kill as the mist began to clear. It’d be a beautiful night. For once, I was feeling welcomed by those strange jagged woods. As dusk approached, I decided I’d figure out the mystery of those mysterious woods. I was going to try to kill whatever could seemingly take down a black bear. Only in my pride-driven delusion could I ever have thought that was logical.
I hiked past the border of my mental map, towards the center of the forest. In the direction I believed I had heard the noise the night before. Finally, I decided on a spot to set up a small, temporary blind. It was a birch tree, and one of the tallest I’d seen on my excursion. Its bark reflected the dying sunlight in a way I had never seen before, though. It was almost… too smooth. Like it belonged in an animation, not real life. I gathered some large sticks and leaned them against the tree, then lined them with smaller twigs and piled leaves on top of them. I hunkered down in the blind and prepared for a kill.
Waiting never really annoyed me during a hunt. I suppose a hunter needs patience. But I waited there until I could truly call it dusk. The light fading fast, I very nearly gave up and headed back to camp when I heard it. Its call. Its voice pierced the solid atmosphere of the woods, and I swear I could see the shockwave.
“Judge distance. One and a half miles. Load shotgun, take ready stance. Stay calm. Breathe. In through the nose, out through the mouth.”
This time, I was ready, and it wasn’t going to make me piss myself again. I loaded six rounds into the gun. No sooner than the moment I readied it did I smell that putrid, awful smell. Like a carcass that’d been rotting for months. I gagged at the suffocating odor, nearly puking up the deer I had eaten hours before. After a few more minutes, I heard the ear-splitting call again. Half a mile. This was the closest I’d ever been to it. Then everything went silent. Not like the night before, I mean completely silent. As though everything was either gone completely or playing dead. Silence in nature is usually a grave sign, or so I’ve heard. Everything instinctively goes utterly silent when there is danger nearby.
I heard bushes being pushed aside and twigs snapping somewhere to my left. Then a raspy breath somewhere quite closeby. Then a creature came barreling into my vision on all fours. It was twilight by now, so I could barely make out its features. What I could tell, though, was terrifying. Bone-chilling. It was humanoid, but had gray, seemingly overly-stretched skin blanketed over its bony frame. It was far too tall, and its arms far too long. It was turned away from me, but I could hear it sniffing the air around it. I suddenly felt that I wasn’t the only thing that had been tracking that day.
Out of nowhere, it turned towards my blind, at the perfect angle to leave me visible and exposed. The eyes, dear god, the eyes. They were somehow blacker than even the darkness of the jagged woods. My position had been compromised. Panicking, I fired the shotgun without properly aiming it, grazing the thing’s leg and completely taking off its right hand. This angered it, and the thing screeched its distinct call, banging its remaining hand on the ground as it leaped up and down. You know how everyone reaches their “fuck this shit, I’m out” limit? Well, this was about it for me. I exploded from my blind and took off in the direction of the train tracks, which was luckily the direction opposite from the thing, placing my shotgun in its holster.
I must’ve run a five-minute mile that evening. I bolted towards the train tracks, then turned left and followed them towards town. I looked back at the thing after awhile. It was giving chase, yet we were in a stalemate. As it pursued me on all fours, it seemed to have significant trouble. Every time it’d start gaining on me, it would trip as a result of its missing hand and injured leg. This gave me hope that perhaps I could outrun it. As I sprinted and weaved cautiously over the tracks, it barreled through branches with neither a care for them nor for its own well-being. If I couldn’t outrun it, I could outsmart it. As I ran, I’d bend branches so they’d fling back and whack it.
In my panic, I didn’t feel the enveloping tentacles of exhaustion. As I approached the treeline, I was filled with an overwhelming sense that I had made it. I had seen hell and come back to tell the tale. When I hit the treeline, I saw my house and forgot everything for a second. I didn’t feel my legs give way beneath me. I gave up.
Suddenly, I felt musty breath on the back of my neck. Smelled the odor of rotting meat stronger than I ever had before. To my horror, I saw a bony gray hand, nails longer than I’ve seen any human’s, wrap around my left ankle. It yanked me back into the woods. I was in tears, having been so close, yet so impossibly far. Staring into the face of this thing for the first time, I was able to make out its terrifying features. It had slits for nostrils, was missing ears entirely, and had a mouth full of razor-sharp teeth with which it smiled at me. It had caught its prey. Its eyes, dear god, those black portals still terrify me to this day. It looked over at its severed right hand, then I swear, its smile got even larger. It stomped on my chest, knocking the wind out of me. Then it grabbed my own right hand and began to pull with inhuman strength. I began screeching in pain, perhaps as loudly as it screeched in joy and celebration, as it snapped the bone and tore my hand clean off.
I don’t remember what happened next. It could have been a few hours or a few days, but when I awoke, I was in a cave. I had blacked out. It took a second, but I remembered the events of earlier and began to stir. I used my shirt to patch the open wound gushing blood from my arm. Then I used my belt as a tourniquet, tying it on my upper arm. I know you’re only supposed to use tourniquets in emergency situations, but I think a violently severed hand qualifies.
My whole body was in a horrible pain that nothing could fix except real medical attention. I needed to get out, and I needed to figure out where I was. Tears poured from my eyes as I stood up, trying not to scream. I looked around the cave. On one end, the cave was lined with bones. There were probably about seven distinct piles in front of them. In the one furthest to the left, I saw a viciously torn-up bear’s corpse. In all of the subsequent piles, I saw a number of animal corpses in various states of decay. The further a pile was to the right, the grosser the decomposing corpses were. Again, I gagged. But why wasn’t I placed in the most recent pile? Then I looked at where I had been laying. That was one of the biggest mistakes I had ever made.
I saw a pile of human corpses and skeletons, most of their skulls cracked open and sucked dry. Expressions of fear were etched onto the men and women whose faces were intact enough to read. I lost control, vomiting all over the pile. Something in it began to shriek and squeal, somehow at the same time. I judged, therefore, that it was multiple somethings. Then, as if all at once, moving faces appeared from out of the pile. Miniature versions of that disgusting creature. Its babies. As I began to lose myself to unconsciousness again, a noise snapped me back to reality. I heard the cry of the mother. “Judge distance. Three miles.”
I was finally able to put it together, the cave and why the mother was so far away from her demented cubs. It hunted under the cover of nearly complete darkness, on the new moon of every month. I suddenly recollected hearing those shrieks at my house, from maybe five miles away, and thinking nothing of them. It brought its catches back to the cave and put them into a pile, separate from the rotting ones of the last month. Unless they were human. Then they went in a pile specially tailored for her young. The young seemed to especially love human brains. But most importantly, I understood that I could escape. If the mother was out hunting, there would be no better chance to bolt. As I emerged from the mouth of the cave, I looked over my shoulder and was hit with a sick feeling at even the sight of it. I walked the hell away from it and never turned back.
I just kept walking in a straight line away from there, trying to find something I recognized. But I was nothing more than a fool stumbling around in the dark. I heard the thing’s scream behind me. It must’ve caught something and brought it back to the cave. Which would mean that… it probably caught my scent. At this realization, I remember that I began to run, but it was likely just hobbling a little faster. As I kept pushing, I kept hearing the sound, getting closer and closer. But I had hope again when a saw a treeline. I went even faster until at last I reached it.
I felt defeated when I burst forth from the bushes. It was nothing more than a large, circular clearing of grass with a boulder in the center. Hearing the screeches from just a mile away now, I made the fateful decision to hobble across the clearing. As I made it to the other end, I came to the terrifying conclusion that if I wanted to have any chance of survival, I would have to kill it. It was gaining on me too fast, and I would definitely die if I tried to run. If I tried to fight, I would either triumph or go down honorably.
I turned around just in time to see it enter the clearing. It stared directly at me, yet hesitated. It then retreated back into the wall of darkness. It definitely knew I had escaped, and it knew where I was as well, now. I knew the decision I made now would determine whether I lived or died.
So I had to think. “It’s probably just as intelligent as I am,” I thought. “So it has a plan. What is it, though? If I were a bear, I would run away from that thing without a care in the world. It wants me to run away. It knows I fear it. Do I have any advantages? Yes! The shotgun still holstered on my back! What are its advantages? It can probably see in the dark. It’s much faster than me. It knows the forest much better than I do. And again, it knows I fear it. The only way I can take away some of those advantages is by… going back into the clearing.”
I had a solid plan now. This time, I know I ran. Back into that clearing and atop the rock in the center. Again, I heard its shriek. The woods fell silent once more. Here we go again. “Silent woods, silent woods. Judge distance. A quarter of a mile. Load shotgun, take ready stance. Stay calm. Breathe. In through the nose, out through the mouth. This time, I know what I’m dealing with. One of us is going to die in this clearing, and I’ll be damned if it’s going to be me. I’m ready.” I gripped the shotgun with my left hand, steadying it with my right. Luckily for me, I was left-handed and left-eye-dominant, hehe.
Then I heard the shriek again off to my left. Then behind me. It was circling around the clearing, either confused or waging psychological warfare against me. I heard it again to my left. Then to my right. Then to my left again, then in front of me. I would have to trust my eyes, as the thing was tricking my ears. I heard the slightest of noises from behind me, the sound of bushes being trampled followed by the sound of grass parting for an animal.
I whipped around and shot it in the right shoulder. It staggered back, but then kept coming at me after a moment. I tossed the gun by the butt, my hand making contact with the pump. I pumped it and awkwardly slid the butt back onto my shoulder. I shot again, hitting it in the left leg. It continued to limp towards me, and with one more pump, I hit it in the chest. Its pursuit of me was now only a pathetic crawl. With its remaining usable hand, it reached out to touch the rock on which I was standing. I lifted the thing by its spindly neck and threw it on the face of the rock. As it laid on its back, I threw my heavy boot onto its chest and pumped my shotgun.
It didn’t seem so scary as it looked down the lengthy barrel of my shotgun. It quivered and whimpered as I prepared to unload a round into its face. Then it smiled its demonic smile again and spoke to me. The English friggin’ language!
“I am you,” it proclaimed. It looked at its missing hand, then at my own. It continued, “Do you really think they aren’t as afraid of you as they are of me? Boom, cha-ching. Boom, cha-ching.” It tried to mimic the sound of my shotgun. Then it shrieked its horrible shriek, so loudly that I felt I needed to cover my ears. “They fear you just as they fear me.” Then it turned to my shotgun. “Winchester, huh? That’s an old one. I’ve seen newer firearms in the hands of your elderly. I remember when people used muskets. And bows. And spears. I remember when people would come into my woods armed with nothing more than their bare fists. Of course, they were simpler people. Your ancestors fought them off with their guns in the great wars and sent them away on the Trail of Tears. Are you starting to see?” it explained. “And what wouldn’t you do to protect your young? To feed your people? You come into my woods and kill, and eat, and gorge on the corpses of the same animals. You intended to kill me as I intended to kill you. You would have done all the same things if you were me. We are the same,” it screeched.
“No,” I responded, “I would not have done the same. If I were you, I at least wouldn’t have gotten myself killed.” I shot the ugly thing in the face and that was the end of its shitty monologue. “To be fair, you had me until you started talking shit about my gun.”
I was free of this thing’s grasp, of her bony fingers. After a sigh, I headed in the direction I’d been travelling prior to the encounter. The next few hours were a blur. I found my way back to the smooth birch tree where I first laid eyes on her. Then the tree I slept on the night before. Then the treeline. I could see town. My town. But at that point, I’d lost so much blood that I blacked out. When I came to, I was in the hospital. Even though I lived around two hours to the southeast, it was in Lexington, as Kentucky is not exactly renowned for its quality healthcare. Apparently, a little girl found me while playing in her backyard, unresponsive in a pile of leaves and brush. I owe her my life. 911 was called, and I was transported to Somerset, treated, then moved to Lexington.
I’d end up losing most of my right arm. I also told my story to the police. In their search of the woods, they found the cave and examined the human remains. Some of them were missing people from around the area, others unknown, forgotten to the winds of change. But the cubs were gone. I’d later drive that rusty pickup of mine to Ohio and reconnect with my parents, letting them know I was okay. It was not a perfect reunion, by any stretch of the imagination, but they were simply glad I was still alive. Finally, needless to say, I’ve given up the hobby of hunting.
While visiting Cincinnati, I met a woman. Saying she had some more money than me would be an understatement. She supported me through a college education, and eventually we moved back down to Kentucky together.
As I was putting my son to bed a few nights ago, on the evening of the new moon, I heard it. The call of the beast. But this time, it was different. Perhaps it was one of her own sons. I remembered the events of eight years ago like a horrid flashback I had tried my damnedest to repress. I paused, deciding to tell my son a new story. A cautionary tale about how his dad lost his right arm.
I offer you the same warning. Don’t enter the jagged woods. Don’t lay a finger on a tree in the jagged woods. Don’t even look at the jagged woods. Especially on a new moon. Heed my advice, and you won’t end up like me… or her.
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9,MomGetTheCatPlayzYT,[removed],I AM WATCHING/////\//,['remov']
10,murdigante,"As fireworks go off into the sky to celebrate a new year, people with family, friends, and lovers, I sat alone in my apartment in bed, awaiting to murder myself with my mom's firearm I still from her house yesterday. I didn't have money to buy one so this was the next best thing.
Why couldn't I get my friend to love me back and she's the only person I ever loved. Why do I suck so bad at everything? College? Making friends? Life?
Waiting for midnight, I held my glock to my head waiting for a peaceful departure misery and a loveless life on this planet. When my alarm played my favorite song from my favorite band.
Then 11:58 hit and shit got crazy.
—————
I heard a high pitched scream and a tussle in my closet. I heard something move across my hardwood floor but I couldn't track the direction. It startled me but I didn't care. I wanted out.
""Whatever is in there, be my guest to kill me. Please.""
**""WHY ARE YOU GIVING UP SO EASILY?!""**, a low, deep voice screamed.
But it wasn't coming from my closet... It was right next to me.
Then 12:00 hit. A firework went off from my neighbors and illuminated the street and my bedroom where I sat. I look out of my peripherals to my left and there he was. Eyes of crimson and visible drool coming out of its mouth.
""Why are you here?""
**""...""**
""Please, if you are here to hit me, please ... Just kill me."" I sobbed.
**""... I'm here... to help... you...""**, he whispered, growling between pauses.
""Please, be my guest."" I handed him the gun and waited for minutes, what felt like hours. For him to end me. But he didn't.
""What are you waiting for? FUCKING SHOOT ME!""
He did nothing. Just stood there smiling at me.
I snatched the gun from him and pulled the trigger. Nothing. I knew I loaded three just in case I did die. The entire clip was empty.
He began to laugh hysterically.
""Fuck off! How fucking dare interrupt my way out of the shithole just to make fun of me!!"" I began cry hard. Snot and spit gathering quickly in my lap.
After a few minutes of crying, I look up to where he was and he was gone. He fucking came into my house, unload my gun, and left. I tried to get out of bed but I was stuck. I couldn't move my legs.
**""You see, when I said help, I genuinely meant help you.""**
He was now in bed with me. Snuggly tucked in, to my right, in my full size bed. I instinctively scoot over. I look at him and get my first close up view of him. He was a very tall me, crimson red face, eyes, and lips. He had a symbol on his head and in my minor of language processing, I knew that wasn't a symbol of this world. Alien, even.
**""I see you have girl troubles. Tell me about Alex.""**
I never told him about Nicole. I never said anything about my friend to him. First I have to know who I'm dealing with.
""Who — what the fuck are you?""
He looked taken back, almost offended, but then proceeded. **""My name is Eigengrau, demon responsible for all things darkness. Where there is darkness, any thing is possible for me.""**, he smiled.
He continued: **""The reason why I know of Alex is because I was reading your mind while you were crying. I see all of your life since your brain always has darkness in it, abstract and literal.""**
I was taken back now. ""How can I trust you?""
**""Simple.""** He touched my head and ... I saw his life.
A lowly demon in hell as a demonic child. Being bullied, being belittled by his parents. Being tormented by his colleagues of darkness. Being... beaten senseless in front of the horses and exiled for his ability to use such a powerful ability. So powerful even Satan himself couldn't take it away.
I came back. Still in the same spot, with him still tucked in. **""So tell me about Alex.""**
I told him everything.
How she was the only person I ever loved in my life. How we both loved our geeky interests. How everything was great in the beginning. How confided to her about my depression like an idiot after I confessed that I kinda liked her. How she rejected me because she didn't like anyone and said it wasn't me but she didn't feel that way about me. How I tried to make the friendship better and did. How paranoia and my insecurities after I told her my issues plagued our relationship because I thought she would resent me. How after a wonderful hangout in the summer, she ghosted me for two months. How it took so long, I questioned our friendship. How now I feel like our friendship is dying. How now it seems like she doesn't even like chatting with me anymore. How now I feel like I can't even make conversations with her anymore.
How this was the only person I loved in my life, and how I knew it would stay that way.
He sat there, in silence after my lecture. For about thirty minutes. I started to feel shame because I knew I fucked with her and now our friendship — our relationship is dying. I tapped, I rubbed him, but nothing. His eyes were pure abysmal black, and it was almost like he was chanting.
After some time, he came to.
**""Fuck.""**
""What?""
**""When you said she was the only person you'll love, you meant it.""**
""Eigengrau, what?""
**""You see, with my darkness, I can see places where there is darkness. The universe is comprised of darkness, and there are other universes. 198, 678, 549, 238, 998, 775, 223, 265, 073 so far and rapidly increase. So I went to every universe and say each outcome.""**
Eigengrau...
""So, what are the results?""
**""All of them but 1 do end up with her. In all of the other ones, you die alone and have a loveless death. Never dated, nothing. Some universes you become a billionaire and others, you don't even like women, and it's still the same.""**
He notices my defeated state. **""But don't worry. I got this!""** He smiled broadly.
I thought for a moment. ""Eigengrau, what is your purpose for helping me? You're a demon. I know you must have a hidden agenda for this.""
**""You're smart. Very smart. So you see... I get lonely and I just wanted to ask you if I can stay in this house with you.""**
""Are you fucking serious?""
Eigengrau nodded. ""Sure, why not?""
**""Thank you. So continuing on with what I was saying for your situation, it's set. Talk to her.""**
My chest and face instantly began to warm. ""It's 3:00AM. No!""
He sighs. **""Well, the hard way it is.""**
He grabs me and throws me at the closet he entered from, and in a very hot and distorted way, I meet a very bright light. I land hard, on what felt like heels and forks, I sprawl out onto the floor of a white and pink room. I look to from where I was thrown and see that what I came out off was a closet.
So I'm guessing Eigengrau can also teleport through darkness. Make sense.
I get up and I'm instantly greeted by her. Alex. She's wearing a nightgown and the look in her eyes is visible shook.
_""What are you even doing here?!""_
Damn you, demon.
""Hey, Alex. It's good to see you, I am ... Uhm... Uhhhhh.""
_""Listen, why were you in my closet? I never even had you over my house...""_
There's no way I can explain this. Goddamn it.
Then I felt a burning sensation come over my head and I thought I blacked out but I still felt conscious. It was a feeling I never experienced before.
—————
I woke up in a cool blue room. I realized that it was the same room as Alex was in. Something is holding me. Someone is holding.
I scoot a bit to the right and I'm my back.
It's Alex. Snuggled up with me, cuddling me. I guess my movement woke her.
_""Hey. How did you sleep?""_
""Good? You?""
_""Wonderful since you're here.""_
She kisses me. A deep kiss, something I dreamed of since I met her in junior year of high school. She pulled away and I guess she noticed.
_""What's wrong? Why are you crying?""_
It was tears of sadness, but of happiness. For seven years, I've loved this girl and I felt like everytime I got close, she would pull away. Now at, what felt like the end of our friendship, she and I are cuddled up in her room.
_""Oh, I'm pretty sure your mom is worried about you. I'll walk with you home.""_, she smiled.
Thank you, Eigengrau.
We snuck out through her window and headed to my mom's house for NY. Since we did hangout at my mom's housed before, we knew where to go in terms of walking.
Before I go in and see my mom, Alex stops me: _""I had fun last night. Let's do it again ... Uh, next week! Babe.""_, kissing me again.
""Babe?""
_""Duh. You're my boyfriend after all! See you next next week!""_, she said running off.
I have to hug Eigengrau after this. I don't care if he's a demon.
I went in to greet the mom. She was happy to see me and surprise kg didn't question where I was. She mentioned that he got an email from my university about final grade rolling out. I sigh because I got two Ds this semester and didn't want to think about academic violations.
I clicked onto my laptop in the family room to see how bad my GPA is now but I got all As and a B+. I clicked off the email and see seven emails from professors, sending me employer guides to how to impress them. And apparently, I have two internships set for this summer and I need to accept one and decline the other.
Eigengrau. I started to tear up.
But I finish with all that, I heard music coming from my old room. I went upstairs and put my ear to the door, it was a lullaby I loved. It was an opening from one of my favorite shows. I opened the door.
I almost screamed when I halfway opened.