Datasets:

chloeliu

/

reddit_nosleep_posts

like 0

Skin Deep

y7m8bv

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y7m8bv/skin_deep/

Cute. Pretty. Hot. Sexy. Beautiful. Gorgeous. Flawless. Goddess. All used to describe me. I was everywhere. Cosmopolitan. Esquire. Vogue. Glamour. You’ve made eye contact with me on a billboard. You’ve seen me in commercials. I’m also terribly impatient. Winning the genetic lottery bestows certain privileges, many of which can turn you straight into the bitchiest diva if they are overindulged. I deserved them for all the kale smoothies I gagged on. I had scheduled a shoot with my favorite photographer, Nico. He was one of the few that respected you enough to not bend you over a table. To any prospective models, ladies, if you find him, keep him. It was supposed to be a straightforward session, a promotional shoot for a national retailer. They are in every mall and they sell shirts on Amazon. No crazy boots or green lipstick this time. Only store signs. My high heels clacked on the wood paneling. My entourage flanked to my sides. People who wanted to matter, but didn’t. You know the feeling. The copious amount of camera wires and tarps proved hazardous as I balanced precariously over them. The air conditioning left the room feeling chilly and distressing. “Oh! There she is! How are you my love?!” Nico’s exotic accent complemented the bourbon on his breath. Not the smell of a drunk, the smell of quality. Refinement. I liked that in a man. “Where’s my chai tea?! Where is it?!” My irritation was paramount. They should know this already. “It’s coming dear. Melissa!” Nico shouted, looking up above me. “Get her her tea, please. And promptly.” I heard a disgruntled groan behind me as Nico kissed the back of my hand, his finely groomed beard tickled. “Shall I turn you over to our stylist?” He asked. His sunglasses reflected my face in the lenses. “Where’s my fucking tea?!” I repeated. “You’re right!” Nico stormed off. I heard screaming, shouting, angry crashes, clothing racks thrown, and then Nico, returning, tea in hand. Melissa or whoever she was followed close behind, red-faced and puffy-eyed. I threw off my massive fur coat as I nestled the tea in my hand. The flavor was bland, but not enough to throw a tantrum over. I had to get to work. The day would be long and unrewarding as is. But, as Duran Duran once said: “Wider, baby, smile and you’ve just made a million.” I sat in the cosmetics chair. An overly nervous stylist, a woman, started applying foundation, eyeliner, mascara, and lipgloss as another started tinkering with my hair. After an hour or so, I was ready. Nico walked over, arms outstretched. “Oh, what a beauty! Truly a marvel!” He cooed. I smiled, knowing his assessment was watered down. I strolled over to a clothing rack. Simple shirts, jeans, jackets, and shoes. Melissa stood in a corner, staring daggers into me. Fuck her. Men always looked in lust. Women always looked in jealously. I examined the clothing selection more intently. Fucking really? I was so much better than this shit. I begrudgingly threw on an outfit, consisting of a shirt, belted jeans, and sneakers. I stepped in front of Nico’s camera and started posing. Simple. The flashes of light with each snap erased my negativity about the outfit and gave me an immense feeling of joy. “Yes girl! Work it!” After several minutes and constant camera flashes, Nico got me into another outfit, this one a basic black pantsuit paired with high heeled leather boots. The more photos that were taken just fueled my insatiable ego. Finally, I was motioned to strip down to the nude. Why? This wasn’t that type of shoot. “Umm, are you sure?” I questioned. “Just do a couple for me, baby!” Nico asked, his face begging in anticipation. Oh, of course. The jacket. “Sure.” I relented as I peeled off my clothes. Why not? It was the end of the day. Nico handed me the black jacket and asked me to put it on. The jacket, as always, was shiny and felt heavy in my arms. A cloth hood was attached to the collar. I slipped my arms through the sleeves and flipped the jacket up and over my shoulders. This was Nico’s favorite jacket to have me wear. It was a personal pleasure for him. Worry suddenly shot through my brain as I settled my frame into it. The lining felt… Strange. I shrugged the feeling off. A mistake. “Great! Flip your hood up!” Nico began snapping photos. I posed, blew kisses, and really tried to sell the bad girl look. “Ok, now flip it down off your shoulders and arch your back!” Nico asked. I rolled my shoulders back to remove the jacket. Nothing but leather creasing. What the hell? I tried slipping the hood off my head. The unmistakable pain of hair being pulled stabbed into my scalp. I squatted down and winced, rubbing my head. “What’s wrong?” Nico asked, his face popping out from behind the camera lense. “I can’t get this jacket off!” I gritted my teeth in frustration. I started flailing my arms wildly, the metal zippers clinking. Panic began to work its way into my chest and throat. “Hold on, let me help you!” Nico walked over and placed his hand over the hood. He pulled. “Ahhh! Fuck! Stop, you’re hurting me!” I screamed. Tears sprang to my eyes, my hair follicles on fire. My chest felt weighed down, as if an elephant found it a comfortable resting spot. I couldn’t breathe. I felt the cool, smooth leather under my finger tips. It crinkled and squeaked with my movements. I collapsed in a heap on the floor, now in a full fledged panic attack. Nico hushed my entourage and all other personnel out of the room as someone called 9/11. What was this? Some kind of sick prank? I felt the jacket start to form around my body like a second skin. I ugly cried, my tears blocked my vision. Suddenly, I heard a scuffle. Nico shouting. A door lock clicking. “Melissa! What the fuck are you doing?!” A surprised shout. I looked up, seeing Melissa, the assistant, standing over me. Her face was reddened, her fists balled tightly. I shook my head in confusion. Nico pounded on the door. “You spoiled cunt. Here's your chai tea.” She said quietly, and without emotion. Then suddenly, she snatched the hood in a death grip. The pain was so intense I howled. I felt the hairs in my head begin to pop out of my scalp. Warm wet crimson began running down my face in jagged lines. I saw Nico on the other side of the door, hands over mouth, helpless. I kicked and screamed, but Melissa was stronger. “This is for all the years of abuse!” The saliva molecules splattered in my ear canal as she pulled harder. I felt my face begin to tear like wrapping paper. I felt a warm ridge form in my forehead as the hood was peeled off with my skin and scalp. The pain was so unbearable I couldn’t make a sound. My hands flew up to where my hair had been. Sheer horror. They came back slimy and bloody. Degloved. I stumbled around, my vision red and murky. I caught a brief, blurry glimpse of Nico, hands on knees, projectile vomiting. My knees gave out as I face planted onto the floor. I chipped a tooth on impact as I heard footsteps approach me from behind. I felt a shoe slam down viciously in the back of my neck. “Bitch.” Melissa spat. I gasped as the pulling resumed. I realized, to my absolute horror, that the jacket was still stuck to my back. My skin began to tear at the shoulder blades, each cellular layer was ripped and shredded as the jacket took my skin like the pelt of an animal. I screamed louder than I’ve ever screamed. The sound rang off the walls. I reached behind me helplessly as the sleeves were jerked backwards. The knuckles on my hands were now exposed, the joints coated in blood. I wanted to die. Melissa did. The police shot her between the eyes when she wouldn’t get off of my lifeless corpse. According to the subsequent police report, Melissa, the disgruntled fashion assistant, had booby trapped the lining of my jacket with epoxy adhesive, the world's strongest glue. My skin had no chance. She knew I’d wear the jacket, I always did for Nico. As soon as my skin made contact, my modeling career was over. Melissa knew that was the real pain. The physical agony was just icing on the cake. I don’t know when I lost consciousness. I know it was before the police arrived. I had to be resuscitated in the ambulance. I was given over five emergency blood transfusions. My body didn’t have enough skin left for a graft, so I was given an allograft from a medical cadaver. My body rejected it. I layed in a recovery bed for over six months. Since I was injured during a shoot, the client paid for my substantial medical expenses, which ended up bankrupting them. After what felt like a lifetime, the bandages were removed. I shrieked. Horrid, ridged, cavernous, abominable scars embedded themselves deep into my deformed face. My scalp, now bald from the complete removal of the hair follicles, was a wavy mess of uneven lines, raised pock marks, and jagged scarring. I hid myself in my hands. I couldn’t bear the sight. I cried myself to sleep. I couldn’t work, not only as a model, but anywhere. I would be seen as a freak. Heads would turn, gossip would flourish, and assumptions would be made. Vanity is only skin deep. Weird. Gross. Ugly. Nasty. Hideous. Disgusting. Horrid. Abhorrent.

The Monster Is Real

y822ho

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y822ho/the_monster_is_real/

Of all the kids who lay awake at night in fear of the monster lurking beneath their bed, I might be the only one to have ever found theirs to be real. It began twenty years ago when I heard something go bump in the night. Now, granted, a lot of things can go bump in the night and only about half of them are actually scary, but this particular bump came from under my bed. I was just a boy then, only ten, and when I heard that bump but a mere hour after having watched *Nightmare on Elm Street*, I knew it could be none other than Freddy Krueger himself. “Hello?” My prepubescent voice quivered, high-pitched and shaky like a songbird on ice. There was, of course, no response. My bedroom door was open, as always (I was far too fearful to seal myself away in the dark), and I briefly considered making a run for it. But, Krueger has those bladed fingers, you know? I was no athlete. My long jump was short and my short jump was inevitable, so the likelihood of him hacking into my Achilles upon landing seemed a strong one. So, what did that leave? I could holler for my parents, and while at least one of them would certainly have come to check on me if I were to have chosen that course, it posed the risk that they too would be murdered by Freddy Krueger. Or, they’d find nothing and think me just a silly little boy, and there was no denying that I was in fact a very silly little boy. But this was no laughing matter. The other option, and it ultimately ended up being the one I chose, was to cower beneath the covers atop my bed, praying that Freddy would treat my Ninja Turtles comforter as some sort of impenetrable fortress. So, I ducked inside and hid, intending to ride it out until sunrise, when all of a sudden, I heard another bump. And not just heard it but felt it as well. The vibration of something sizable bumping beneath my bed. This was confirmation of a monster, as my only pet was a hamster, my sister was a baby, and my parents weren’t nearly mischievous enough to pull such a prank. In response to the bump, I squealed. A short squeal quickly suppressed, like a chirp of air released from a balloon. I covered my mouth with my hand and held my breath, and while I didn’t break into tears just then, there was no denying I was in fear for my life, which my rapidly pounding heart made abundantly clear. I peeked from my covers and stole another glance at my open doorway, reconsidering the first option. But, that thought quickly dissipated as the door suddenly and without any visible assistance, slammed shut. Option B went into effect. “HELP!” I screamed, over and over, until my door flung open and my parents came rushing in, flicking on my lights in the process. “Jacob, what’s wrong?” My mom, first to my bedside, asked. I searched for words, stumbled over the ones I found, and stuttered as they left my mouth. “Monster,” I said. “Under my bed.” Mom and Dad exchanged glances with one another as if to say, “This nonsense again?” But, this time my complaint came with what looked to be shellshock, and although my parents did not believe in monsters, and certainly not the kind who hid under beds, they weren’t going to leave my room without first putting my mind at ease. So, Dad knelt and looked beneath my bed, and to my surprise, stood back up fully intact. “No monsters down there,” he said. “But Freddy Krueger can blend in and kill me in my dreams.” Mom looked at Dad, and said, “I told you not to let him watch that movie.” “But it’s almost Halloween,” Dad argued. “He’s only ten.” “I watched horror movies when I was his age. I never got scared.” Mom sighed. “That’s because you’re a sociopath, Jim.” “Am not.” Mom ignored him and dabbed my tears away with the edge of my comforter. “Sorry, sweetie. Your dad shouldn’t have let you watch that movie. But, it’s just a movie. It’s not real.” “But, what if it is?” I said. “It’s not. I promise.” “But what about the thing that was bumping against my bed, or my door closing?” “Our minds can play all sorts of tricks on us when we’re scared. Your bed probably pops and shifts all the time without you noticing. The springs do that sometimes. And you don’t know how many times I’ve had to open your door in the morning because it shut while you were sleeping. Dad needs to fix that.” Dad smiled and patted my leg. “Yeah, bud. It’s something wrong with the door, that’s all. How about we prop it open with something tonight?” Dad turned around and grabbed a chair from the corner of the room and placed it against the door. “How’s that?” “Good, I guess,” I said. “Yeah,” Mom said, then fluffed my pillow and tucked me in. “Now, get some sleep. And don’t you worry about monsters. They aren’t real.” “Promise?” “Promise.” She kissed me on the forehead and as she walked out the doorway, she flicked off the light. I was once again alone in the eerie darkness of my room, but with a newfound armor of parental reassurance. My parents said monsters weren’t real and back in those days my parents might as well have been omniscient. But, I soon learned that not to be the case, when as I lay in my bed, confident and comfortable, I heard a new noise. The sound of wooden chair legs sliding across a wooden floor. Not being pushed into the hallway by a heavy door, would mean the sound was moving away from me. But this was coming toward me. I opened my eyes, and sure enough, the chair was sliding into my room and away from the door. Then, about three feet from me, it stopped, and the door remained open. “Hello?” I said. Then, the door shut, the room became even darker, and before I could scream, a heavy kick against the bottom of my bed launched me into the air and sent me crashing onto the floor. I’d landed hard on my side, but kids are pretty durable, and I was no exception. I was startled, and a bit sore, but mostly unscathed. And I had landed in such a way that I was facing beneath my bed, peering straight into the monster’s lair. And that’s when I saw it. It goes without saying that despite my fears that night, Freddy Krueger is in fact nothing more than a fictional character. But I did not see Freddie Krueger. What I saw as I lay there on my floor, peering into the dark void beneath my bed, were two large red eyes peering right back at me. And beneath those eyes was a large, white, toothy grin. The monster did not move. It just sat there, smiling. And breathing. Soon, those breaths began to pulsate and gradually became a low, hissing snicker. The monster was laughing. And I started screaming. “HELP!” I scurried across the floor and yanked the door open, and bounded down the hallway to my parents. Never again did I sleep in that room, much to my parent's dismay. I spent far too many nights nestled in bed with Mom and Dad, and when I was finally brave enough to leave their room, I moved in with my baby sister in her room, desperately pleading with my parents not to then move her into my old room. “The monster is real,” I told them. Years went by, and I would not budge. They even got rid of the bed and bought one that was flush with the floor, but it wasn’t enough to get me to move back in. Eventually, my parents did the only thing they felt they could. They sold the house. Although they didn’t believe in the monster, they couldn’t convince me to think the same. And even today, my parents will talk about the time they had to sell their house because of my unrelenting insistence that there was a monster under my bed. They can laugh at it now, maybe over a couple of drinks while in the company of friends, but that’s because the idea of a monster under a bed is silly to them. Most would agree. But, now, at thirty years old, if anyone mentions my childhood fear of the thing that lurked beneath my bed, I still do not hesitate to tell them the truth… The monster is [real.](https://www.reddit.com/r/FishermanTales/comments/pvh0ue/stories/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf)

Night Shift at the Data Center: A Giant Shadow Chased Me

y8l4o2

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y8l4o2/night_shift_at_the_data_center_a_giant_shadow/

I’m back bitches, I survived the fucking Shadow realm. Last time I posted, we learned a little about [Louis](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xlx8wh/night_shift_at_the_data_center_the_security_guard/). About a month ago, I went into my next shift like normal, and unfortunately, nothing happened. Tom didn’t return, no entities in sight, and no issues with the devices. I avoided the elevator, since I really didn’t want to deal with that alone. Then Thursday came along, that’s where everything went to hell. Jonah and Louis were sitting in the office, waiting for me, and Jonah told me that he was going to stay overnight with me and Louis, since he was worried about Tom. According to Louis, no one that he knows has been in the Shadows as long as Tom has. He even brought some journals from various family members that served before him. We waited a couple of hours, hoping something would come around or one of the sigils would be used. Around 8pm, we heard laughing. We all turned to the window and saw the big mouthed entity standing there, laughing. When he got our attention, he stopped and pointed at me. Louis looked over and said sternly, “You need to go, I think it needs you.” “There is no way I am going out there alone.” I responded as I started stepping away from my desk. Jonah spoke up, “John, you might not know this yet, but Louis tends to have a good sense of direction when it comes to these things, maybe it can help us with Tom.” I was not going to stand there and argue all night when maybe this could save Tom, so I hesitantly started walking to the door. As I left the office, the entity started walking to the elevator, and without pressing any buttons, the elevator doors opened. It pointed to it, gesturing for me to go inside. I looked back to Jonah and Louis, hoping for some sort of comfort, but neither of them could give me a reassuring look. I marched on, hoping that I am making the right choice. As soon as I stepped inside the elevator, I felt my temperature drop. Almost like going from a hot kitchen into the walk-in freezer. Next thing I know, the elevator lights start flickering and the doors close. The lights shut off, then quickly came back on. I was face to face with the thing that grabbed Tom. I was angry and scared, I wanted to punch this thing, but I was frozen. It was a pale woman with long, pitch black, hair. She wore black robes and had tattoos on her hands. She smiled, and grabbed me by my shoulders. I woke up gasping for air, trying to readjust my body from an almost arctic to normal state. I was in a forest. This forest looked like someone took a photo of a forest but put it in the grayscale, except the grass. The grass was brown and lifeless. I noticed on a nearby tree was a carving of one of the protection sigils that Louis put up. I decided to start walking in that direction. I only walked for what felt like five minutes when I found Tom. He looked fine enough, a little rough, but alive. “Holy shit, what the fuck are you doing here, John?” Tom said, shocked. “Well, that one fucking entity that likes laughing sent me, but I think I’m here to help?” I replied with a shrug. Tom looked at me with a confused, but grateful, smile. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.” He started off in a direction, occasionally looking down at a compass. “So is that kind of like a magical compass or some shit?” I asked, curiously. “No, I just figured that heading North usually leads me to the exit.” He responded quickly. Before I was about to respond, the ground started shaking. I thought it was an earthquake, but when I turned behind me, there was a being in the distance. Behind us was the behemoth of a monster. There weren't any markings or any sort of distinguishable features on its skin, just darkness. It had an almost humanoid silhouette, except it was bent over on all fours with a crooked back and multiple tentacles spawning from its back. The size of it could only be compared to that of a mountain. I thought it was just one of those visual illusions, but when it started moving toward us, I realized that this wasn’t just a normal being. It opened its mouth and shrieked, sending both me and Tom to the ground. I couldn’t move, I just laid there, clutching my ears in hope of drowning out the painful screams. The screaming felt like it lasted for hours, when it finally stopped, I was still frozen. It was right above us. The giant eyes, as dark as the world around us, peering down on us. It picked up Tom and crushed his body. His corpse was thrown not too far away, and hit a nearby tree with a squish. I was only snapped out of my paralysis when I saw a nearby sigil, glowing red. I forced my body to get up and run as fast as humanly possible. I reached the sigil, and a bright flash surrounded me. I was teleported to a cave with the sigil marked on a wall. It was now crossed out. I fell down. My body was practically filled to the brim with adrenaline, and now that I was relatively safe, I needed to rest. I woke up eventually, and I wasn’t thirsty or hungry. I’m not sure if it was the sigil that made me feel this way, or if it was just a normal feeling when in this place. This cave was deep, I woke up in a dead end, and the only direction to go was up. I used my phone as a flashlight, hoping that the 80% that is left won’t die anytime soon. After roughly twenty minutes of climbing and walking, I was in this open space. It was a mass grave. There was a giant hole in the middle of the space, with skeletons and rotting bodies laying there. In the middle was some sort of totem. The smell from that room almost knocked me out. The thought of whoever did this terrified me, the giant from the other realm couldn’t possibly fit in this cave, it could be the cultists that Louis’ family is fighting, or maybe it is another entity. I was not able to think for long, when I started hearing movement. I heard what sounded like footsteps, comin down from what I assumed was the exit. It was another one of those shadow entities, except it was like that giant. A humanoid figure that was hunched back and on all fours. It stopped in its tracks and looked straight at me. It didn’t make a sound or anything, it just started sprinting towards me. I did not react fast enough, and it bit down on my arm. I started hitting it in the head sporadically, hoping it would let go. I even tried going for what I assumed were eyes, but nothing. I started to become light headed, but I felt around the floor and found a rock. I wrapped my fingers around it, and bashed the entity’s head in. That made it let go of my arm, it made a low pitched scream and ran down to the direction I came from. I was not going to stay there for any longer, and ran for the exit, clutching my bleeding arm. It took a while with a damaged arm, but I was able to leave the cave. I was no longer in the same forest. This one felt normal. I started walking down when I saw a hiking path. I started walking down the path when I saw the pale woman again. “Congratulations on surviving, young one,” she said with a smile. “Where the hell am I?” “You are back in the normal realm, your workplace isn’t too far away.” “Great, tell me which direction and I will gladly let you get back to your activities.” “Not yet, you show some competence, and the ability to handle the shadows. I want you to join us. Take some time to think about it, you will know how to reach me.” She vanished in a puff of black smoke. “Well at least tell me where the fuck to go.” I said as the smoke drifted off into the sky. I ended up having to walk for another twenty minutes and found myself a sign. It had the direction for other trails, and the park entrance. Unfortunately, when I reached the park entrance, I realized that I was on the opposite side of the forest. In other words, there’s a good 60 mile gap between me and my work. The nice park ranger was able to get a taxi to come out and drive me back to my work. I am glad my wallet survived the shifting of realms. When I walked into the office, I saw Jonah and Louis standing in the lobby. Jonah noticed me and asked “Holy shit, it’s been like a month, are you okay?” I broke down. Jonah drove me home, and said we can talk about what happened when I am ready. It took me a couple of days to write this out, but I don’t know what to do. That thing looked at us like we were just fucking bugs. How in the hell are we supposed to fight something like that? I am going to take a break. I’ll eventually come back and update you guys when I am ready.

I've been keeping a journal. The lullaby is coming from inside my closet now.

y8b4cd

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y8b4cd/ive_been_keeping_a_journal_the_lullaby_is_coming/

I'm a single dad and I don't know what to do. I'm scared for my son's safety. It's been a long time since I've been out in the suburbs. I moved out to the city after my divorce, and I never looked back. But now, here I am, moving back to the suburbs with my son. It was the only place I could afford after my ex-wife got the house in the divorce. I hated it out here. It was so quiet and boring. But, I had to do what was best for my son. I'm on a budget so all I could rent was a small, two-bedroom, single-story house. The front door is a heavy, metal door with a small window. The windows are large and have metal bars on them. The walls are thin and the ceilings are low. The floors are hardwood. There are no carpets. The inside of the house is sparsely furnished. There is a small living room with a couch and a TV. The walls are bare and there are no pictures or decorations. My wife was into interior design, I'm not against it but I don't have the bandwith right now. There is a small kitchen with a fridge, a stove, and a sink. The bathroom is small and has a shower, a toilet, nothing fancy. There are two bedrooms, each with a bed, a dresser and a closet. I took the small bedroom and left the large one for Simon, my son. His bedroom is a typical kid's room, but there is something different about it. Since we moved in last year I've percieved it has a dark, eerie feeling to it. The walls are a dark color, the hardwood floor is old and worn. The room is dim, even during daytime. The door is slightly ajar, but the windows close perfectly and have double glass, isolating the room from any sounds from the outside. The closet is full of my son's clothes, but I think there's something else in there. Something that shouldn't be. This is when I decided to keep a journal of what's going on. I'll copy what I have so far so you have context of what's been going on. \- Entry 1: I hired a new babysitter to watch my son while I'm at work. The first few months were tough. I was working long hours at the office and then coming home late to see my son. He's a big boy and is most of the day at school, but I was exhausted, no energy for quality time with him. But with a babysitter in the house we made it work. We found a routine and things started to settle down. Her name is Chloe and she seems like a really nice girl. She's always smiling and my son took to her right away. I think I have finally found someone I could trust to leave my son with. Chloe was something else. She's young and fresh-faced, with long blonde hair that cascaded down her back. She's attending the local community college so she babysits in her spare time. She wants to move out of her parents home next year. \- Entry 2: I sometimes find my son standing in the middle of his room, staring at the closet door. He won't speak to me, and he won't come out of his room. I don't know what he's doing in there, but it scares me. I sometimes hear strange noises coming from his room at night. Creaking floors, rustling clothes, and soft footsteps. \- Entry 3: Lately I've been feeling there's something off about Chole. Maybe it was the way she always seems to be watching my son, never blinking, her gaze never wavering. Or maybe it's the way she always is standing in the shadows, never quite in the light. Maybe I'm reading too much into it. \- Entry 4: I started finding Chloe in Simon's room when I came home from work. She would always be in the closet or under the bed, watching my son and singing a strange lullaby I've never heard before. It freaked me out a bit, both the lullaby and her being in random places, but always hidden? Simon is way past the age for lullabies, so I found this odd. I asked her about it and she just smiled that almost perfect smile and told me with her quiet voice that they were just playing. On paper it looks like everything is ok, but I'm not sure. \- Entry 5: I began to watch her more closely. I noticed that she would always be in my son's room when I leave, and by the look of everything else in the house, it looks like she never comes out until I get home. I can't prove it, but I know something isn't right. \- Entry 6: I woke up tonight around 3:30 am. I think I heard that freaking lullaby song Chole was singing a couple of weeks ago. I thought that maybe Simon woke up and is singing it to himself or something, but I just checked in on him and he's sound asleep. I'm going back to bed. \- Entry 7: I'm getting more and more convinced that Chloe is up to something. I've been finding evidence that she's been in my son's room, or at least inside my house, when neither of us are home. His closet door is always slightly open, and I know I close it when I leave. There's a glass in the sink, like someone used it to drink water and just left it there. I just finished setting up a camera and I'm gonna watch the recording when I get home. \- Entry 8: I got home later than usual today. I payed Chloe, she left and that was it. I made dinner for Simon and I, he went to his bedroom and I opened my laptop to watch the footage. At first I didn't see anything, but then I noticed the closet door was open. I zoomed in and I just saw darkness, but in the last 30 seconds I could hear that cursed lullaby. Then I realized it's not the recording, I'm watching live footage. So of course I barged into Simon's room, carried him outside and called the police. What else could I do? If Chole was still here at 2am there was something definitely wrong with her. A patrol was here in 5 minutes. They just left. The closet was empty. I'm. Freaking. Out. \- Entry 9: Maybe I'm losing my mind. Or I don't know what the hell is going on. I just woke up. It's 3 am and I'm sending this from my phone. Now I'm hearing the lullaby coming from inside my closet. If I don't update, please call the police.

Weird packages show up at my door every day

y8cqgj

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y8cqgj/weird_packages_show_up_at_my_door_every_day/

For a bit of background, I recently turned 19, so I thought it’d be time to move out. I looked everywhere for a good apartment and finally found one. While good might be giving it too much credit, It’s okay at best. I sent the landlord, which we’ll call T an email asking for more info but only got answers to half the questions, which is fine since I guess she's just busy. I decided to accept since there was no way I’d find another apartment for this cheap. A week after I sent her the email, I received the key. I packed my bags and went to my new home. I haven’t been here for long, but as soon as I got to my apartment, things started to feel off. The key I received is rusty and greasy. The door is creaky and old. As soon as I walked into the apartment I noticed a foul smell. The air was thicker than usual. I looked around, shocked by the old look of the apartment. I went over to the fridge to put away the care package my parents had given to me. When I approached the fridge I noticed a small, yellow sticky note on the fridge door. I picked it up and started reading. “Hello Ch4rliezard, it’s T. We talked earlier through email. I left something to drink and eat in the fridge. I hope you like it, you can call me anytime.” In the fridge, I found a jug of orange juice and a piece of meat. The meat smelt and looked strange, It was unedible. I instantly threw it away in disgust. After that I went to look around the apartment a bit, the living room is connected to the kitchen, and both look a bit old and honestly disgusting. Since the apartment was so cheap I guess it’s fine for now. The bathroom is a little tiny but honestly looks better than the rest of the house. Now, for the final part of the house. My room. My room looks surprisingly good. I decided to get some rest and deal with the rest tomorrow. The next day I woke up to the sound of my doorbell ringing. I walked over to the door, still exhausted from moving into my first apartment. When I opened the door there was nobody. I looked down and spotted a package. I picked up the package and walked back inside. I slowly opened the package, honestly, I was kind of nervous. I finally got it fully opened and looked inside, inside there was.. nothing. It was empty. Yet, when I opened it I got this weird feeling. Every day since then I’ve been getting these strange packages, I have no idea who they’re from, or where they came from. These packages include things like pictures of me taken without my knowledge and personal belongings. Can someone help me? Should I be worried? Who do I contact to put a stop to this?

Something is turning on my Halloween decorations.

y8dufa

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y8dufa/something_is_turning_on_my_halloween_decorations/

So, this all started last year, I figured I should retell it as a warning to others to be careful. I live in a relatively nice neighborhood, a lot of families around and being someone with no kids I have the ability to have fun with my Halloween decorations. I didn't buy my house, my parents did and since they moved down to Florida after retirement, they gave it to me, and I haven't sold it yet. On October 1st I started putting up my decorations. A big skeleton, an inflatable cat, another cat with I guess a metal skeleton. A few inflatable pumpkins and so on and so forth. It's fun seeing everyone stop by to grab pictures with the blowups. After about a week, I woke up one day to find the blowups plugged in, odd but I assumed I had just forgotten to turn them off before bed like I always do. I go about my day and at the end of the day, I go outside and make sure that my blow ups are unplugged, I stand there, looking at it so the picture of them unplugged is burned into my head. I go back inside and head off to bed, next morning I get up and they are plugged back in. Alright, this is getting odd, however maybe people want pictures and I turn them off before they can get there, that's creepy and would prefer them to not do that, or at least turn it back off after they are done. The next two nights nothing happens, and the lights stay off. I assumed I was right, and it was just a misunderstanding. On October 11th, I shut the lights off and headed to bed as usual. I wake up around 4:30 in the morning and decide to get up for a drink of water. I get my water and look out the front window to see the blowups and lights are on and fully inflated, now I'm getting a bit angry, but I keep my calm. I walk outside, walk to the end of the driveway and look around, no cars, no people, nothing. I turn to go back inside and about halfway down a chill goes up my spine. I get a worried feeling but shake it off as the chilly Northeastern weather. I walk back inside, shutting the lights off and locking the door behind me. I woke up the next morning to see the blowups had stayed off. My sister was coming over that day with my nephew who always loved my decorations. I turned them on early today and made 2 cups of coffee, a cup of tea and a hot chocolate for the youngster. My sister pulled into the driveway with her husband and son. I open the front door and wave to them as they admire the decorations. My sister and nephew go around the yard looking as I invite Tom inside for coffee, plus since we are alone, I will get the chance to ask about what’s been going on. We sat at the table, and I went through the whole story and how odd it was, he agreed that it couldn't have been people taking pictures due to the frequency of it. "Maybe it's a ga ga ga ghost." He says sounding Shaggy from scooby doo like waving his fingers up and down trying to look spooky. "Oh great, if that’s the case I get to call the local priest so he can tell the ghost to fuck off." I replied. "If it works it works man." Tom said. I agreed but blaming it on a ghost seemed too easy, something else was up. "What if it’s just some kids messing around?" I ask "That’s possible and does actually make sense." Tom says, "Did you contact the police about it?" "No, I haven’t bothered, it’s been mostly harmless, so I didn’t see a point." Just then the door opened, I was about to jump but I heard my nephew yell from down the hallway. "Dad, Uncle let’s play football!!" Me and Tom shrug, probably a good idea to get my mind off this. We were outside for a few hours slinging the pigskin. However, the entire time something didn’t feel right. I would say if it felt like something was watching us but..it felt more sinister than that. I notice Tom looking at me with concern, I nod as if to tell him I feel it too. Tom decides to end the trip early before we eat dinner, lying saying he didn’t feel good to his wife and son. My sister apologized but I understood, I wouldn’t want my family here either if something really was off about the situation, especially if it was dangerous. They leave after goodbyes and I am left alone again, I still have that feeling as I make my way back inside… Three days after their visit, the lights were turned back on, each night, I was at my limit at that point. I was going to find out who is doing this and put a stop to it. I decided a stake out was in order. At around 11 PM that night I had everything I needed, a few cups of coffee, snacks and a baseball bat. I also had my police scanner just in case I heard them mention anything suspicious in my area. I waited around, pacing back and forth and my mind wandered to the events of this month. I was now furious, it has happened day after day, not only is it wasting electricity and money but it’s just pissing me off now. As I was thinking about how angry it made me, around 1:30 AM that night, I saw the lights turn on through the front windows. Bingo! I raced out the side door where the plug for the lights is. I ran through the kitchen and opened the side door leading to the garage. I opened the door to the outside, stepped our panting and yelled "who keeps doing this! I'm sick and fucking tired of this you piece of shit!" I pause waiting to hear a response or anything. Nothing, I was about to scream again, then I heard it, something, the crunching of a leaf and the inflatable skeleton moving slightly. There is! "Come out you con of a bitch" I yell shining the flashlight I brought onto the rear of one of the blows up. I wait, silence overcomes my yard, I realize for a short moment that I hope I don’t wake up my neighbors, this would be hard to explain. That thought leaves my mind the second the Blow up starts moving slightly, finally. I see something black and long move around the blow up. Suddenly, I get a strange feeling, something familiar...it’s what I felt the other day outside with my sister’s family. I see what I assume to be a foot, I stand confidently, I know I should show no fear to this jerk. More of their body moves into the light of my flash light...wha..what? What I saw made me want to vomit, I felt dizzy and disgusted. What walked out I can best describe as a..tall...skeleton..? similar to the one pictured on the blowup, it seemed unnaturally long and was much taller then inflatable blow up, which was about 6 feet. It took...a step towards me while moving away from the blowup and looked at me with the skeletons eyeless holes where its eyes would be. I took a defensive step back and stared in horror. "wha...what the fuck..." I mumble. It takes another step forward as I take another step back in response. My flashlight had the...thing fully in view. it was...a perfect copy of the skeleton on the blowup. Then...then it started to shake, or....no..its body, if you can call it that, started to crawl..like millions of small bugs surrounded its body. After a minute of what I best describe as morphing or..changing, what I saw was almost worse than a skeleton...it was the black cat decoration that stood on the front steps of my house, but standing up right like a person. It fucking transformed...what the fuck is this thing. I stare in shock, what do I do now? I doubt this thing will listen to me politely asking it to stop turning my lights on. It takes another step towards me, Ithink for a second, I'm 10 feet from the door, can I turn around and run fast enough to beat it to the door? It started to change again, this time into another skeleton, similar to the first one but with a little red bow tie, the thing pauses for longer this time, it's now boney mouth starts opening, is it trying to speak? No..it's...it's..trying to..smile? Oh God, it starts to lift its skeleton arm up, that's it I turn and bolt for the door. I ran into the garage slamming the side door behind me and ran up the short stairs to the door leading into the house. I looked behind me as I opened the door, I...I saw the doors bronze colored knob begin to slowly turn, and then... the door opened slightly with a creek.. I stood in shock and terror, frozen I..I couldn't move... I saw what looked like a talon, or claw, slowly reaching towards the light switch beside the door. It had changed again. It reaches towards the light switch... \*flick\* I am met with pitch black in front of me, the only light coming from the night light in the kitchen. Maybe a second or two goes by, run! my brain tells me, but I can’t move, I’m frozen in place. RUN!! I turn and run into the house making a half assed attempt to shut the door behind me. I hear the door leading into the garage slam open with a thud as it hits the garage wall and scuttling as that thing runs up the stairs leading into the house. I make my way into the kitchen and juke right as if I was a wide receiver in an NFL game. I put my hand on the knob that holds onto the railing to the stairway up to my room. I hit the first step as I heard the thing slam into the kitchen table and chairs, vital seconds I needed. I get to the top of the stairs and thank god I had shoes on, or I would have slipped on the floors. I made a dead sprint maybe 20 feet to my room as I heard the clacking of the talon claw things following me up the stairs. I get into my room, slamming the door shut behind me and quickly double lock the door. I wait a second and hear a thud on the door and feel the door shutter as the thing makes contact...then...silence.. I sat in silence, fear and adrenaline coursing through my body. I think about what it would have done to me if it hadn't tripped or I didn't make it inside in time. I wait, maybe a minute in silence, too afraid to move. Suddenly, I hear something. "U..uncle...c..can we go out..out and play...." I don't know if I went pale, I couldn’t see myself in the dark. but the cold sweats all over my body, the goosebumps, the chill down my spine..dear God..it was impersonating my nephew. I knew I didn't want to see what that thing looked like, I had to get out of there quickly, before it figured out how to get in. Think..THINK..then it hits me. I keep my keys in a drawer in my room, along with my wallet and other essentials. I just need to figure out how to get out of the room. As I silently make my way towards my bed and drawer, I hear its claws, slowly scratching against the door. I grab the keys and start looking around where to make my escape, thanks to the carpet of the floor, I am silent on my feet. I looked towards the front facing window, I realized I could sneak out my bedroom window. I quickly and quietly make my way and look out; I see the slated roof that ends about 10 feet before the ground. Being 6 foot 1, if I can quickly hang myself by my hands that’s about a 4-foot drop, looking out I can see my car sitting there in the driveway. I can do this. I unlock the window, keys in hand, and slowly lift I, the sound of the air entering after breaking the seal makes me pause, fuck I forgot about that. I hear the bedroom door knob start to jingle quickly. I rush over and get an office chair my Dad used to read in his room in peace, his words not mine. Pushing it up to the door, I make sure to make a slight noise, just in case it doesn’t think I am in here any more. Maybe not the wisest idea as the door handle starts jiggling even more..fuck. Rushing towards the window, the is jiggling and gets louder, as if it is trying to rip the knob off the door. I open the window fully thankfully more silently than before, the sound muffled by the creature. I slid myself through the window feet first (maybe being tall and skinny paid off) As I scooted down the slatted roof, looking at the pavement below. I carefully look down, I turn facing the window, grabbing the gutters as quickly as possible. It then hits me that this won't hold my weight. Well too late now it'll have to do. My waist makes it past the gutter, I have maybe 7 feet before I hit the ground, I feel the gutter start to bend a bit towards me, I try as quickly as possible to let myself down. Now about chest high to the gutter, I say fuck it. I let go, making an attempt to launch myself back so as not to hit my face. It works, sort of, as I hit the ground with a clap of my shoes. I lose my balance and land on my ass, I feel pain shoot up, I stand up realizing it wasn’t so bad and glad I didn't break anything, yet at least. I reach for the door and pause. it'll hear me, I waited a moment. I need a distraction or something. Suddenly, I hear it, \*BANG\* the thing I assume, slams its body full force against the bedroom door. I’m sure I heard the door splinter. I rip open the car door and put the key in and turn, no cliche here, she starts with a purr. I slam the car door as I hear the thing slam through the bedroom door, the door flying across the room. I shift into reverse and floor it down the driveway, I make it to the end of the driveway and spin the wheel to turn the car to face the street. I didn’t even want to lookback, but I did, I saw the thing trying to get out the bedroom window that I had just slipped out of. I shift into drive once again and floor it down my street. I aim for the highway since I can floor it for as long as the car will take me. I look into the rearview mirror as I am about to turn on the main road, I see it in the middle of the road, facing me, turning, I manage to turn without rolling over and haul ass. I made it all the way to the largest city in my state, about a 45-minute drive turned into 25 due to my foot never leaving the peddle. The lights made me feel a little bit better. I ended up getting a hotel room and stayed the night. I called the cops as soon as I got up and explained that I think someone broke into my house. I tried to explain that I panicked and just ran instead of immediately calling the police. I don’t think the dispatcher believed me but She asked me to meet the officers at my house. I obliged, I didn’t want to go back but I did. I revisited the house the next morning, against my wishes, thankfully I had 4 police officers accompanying me. They were horrified to see the damage to my house, thankfully they believed me when I said I didn’t, couldn’t have done this.. I think they put it down as an animal that broke in or something. After that day, I sold the house and moved. Luckily, I have family in Ireland, so I figured I could move in with them until I can get citizenship or something. Having been a year since it happened, I’ve slowly stopped second glancing at everything and staying up all night scouting the house and looking out windows. My family was confused at first but assumed it had something to do with the trauma of an animal attack, I decided sticking with what the police said was better than the truth. They recommend a therapist, but I'll be cold and dead before I see a shrink. All though, the thing that still haunts me every night. With what I believe to be its true form, though I'm still not sure. In the window, originally, I thought it was pale like a person, but it was more red, dark, dark red, as if it didn’t have skin covering its body, or what I assume was its muscles. It was skinny like it hadn’t eaten in years, and its face, sunken eyes that were half pitch black and half white, its massive teeth, long spindly needles like the anglerfish seen in finding nemo. Its teeth went as high as where its nose should have been and as far down as the end of its chin. It had long talons like a sickle or bush cutters you'd see at lawn care stores. It was entirely unnatural. I thought about researching what it might be, but I just want to forget it existed. I still see that monster in my dreams, but thankfully I haven’t seen it person since that day, and let me tell you, I don't ever want to see that fucking thing again.

They're here

y7vscs

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y7vscs/theyre_here/

“They’re here” There was desperation and panic in the manager's voice as she blurted this out with a heavy breath. This matched the cashier’s face, which changed from neutral and tired to dreadful and painfully awake. Another employee who was waiting behind the counter quickly got up and walked to somewhere in the back of the store. For context, It was a little past 9:30 at night. It had been a busy day for me. I had a test and multiple quizzes in my various classes, and I had just gotten done with a hard gym session before returning to my apartment to find that I was fresh out of milk. I decided to run down to the convenience store located right under my apartment building. I knew they closed at 10, so I had plenty of time to pick up milk and browse their snacks. After finding nothing else of interest, I took the jug of milk to the counter to check out, me being the only customer in the store at this point, the only other people being three employees. Who were “they”? Maybe some sort of cleaning or maintenance crew for the store? But it wasn’t closed yet. I picked up the milk jug and walked to the door. The manager stepped right in front of me. “We can’t let you leave right now. It’s not safe. You’re just going to have to wait, with us, for them to pass through”. “Who are ‘they’?!” I replied, frustrated but even more confused. Why the hell was she blocking me from leaving? I would have imagined the store employees would want me to get out of the store now that closing time was coming up. The manager thought about my question for a moment before shaking her head and sighing, like she was too stressed to give me an explanation at the moment. She turned around to pull down the metal blinds along the storefront, ignoring my question. As I said, they weren’t supposed to close quite yet. It wasn’t time. I decided I wasn’t sticking around for whatever game they were playing. I walked to the door but stopped myself before going outside. On the other side of the door was a man dressed in an old yet expensive and fancy-looking suit with a big top hat. It looked as if a stock trader from the 1920s was ripped through space and time and placed on the other side of the glass. Only seconds passed before I heard a disembodied scream come from behind me. I looked back to see the cashier with her hands over her mouth, looking at me with tears rolling down her face. The manager returned to the front of the store. When she saw me standing in front of the door, and the man on the other side, she directed a loud and firm command at me. “Get away from the door. Now”. I did as she said, walking back to her but before I could ask or say anything, she squawked another command. “Go hide behind an aisle. Wait for me to tell you to come out. If you don’t do as I tell you, you’re going to die tonight. Now go”. I had a mix of emotions and thoughts, but something told me that listening to her was my best bet. Still, I hadn’t thought of a reason right then as to why my, or anyone else’s lives would be in danger. Maybe this man was a frequent problem for the store and harassed employees, or what have you. Anyway, I did as I was told. I set the milk on the checkout counter and went to hide between some aisles in the corner of the store. I just stood there for a moment, feeling awkward and a little afraid of whatever was going on. I took out my phone, but it wouldn’t turn on. I could have sworn it wasn’t dead when I left my apartment. Unfortunate. I guess I just had to sit it out for now. I heard the manager talking to the cashier, who seemed quite afraid of the man or whatever was going on. About two minutes later I heard the automatic doors open and someone walked in. The echoing footsteps broke the silence as they approached the counter. They stopped and silence filled the store once again, but only for a few seconds. A man with a friendly tone broke the silence. “Good evening”. “H-h-hello”. I heard the timid cashier squeeze out, barely able to form coherent words. “Would you be so kind as to point me in the direction of your store’s meats?” I tiptoed to the edge of the aisle and looked toward the counter. The man I saw outside was now standing in front of the cashier. He stood with perfect posture. He was much taller than I expected. He must have been around 6’5 or 6’6 and his stature towered even higher over the short cashier with his tall top hat. The cashier replied to him, very timidly “We...we have some…packages of lunchmeat…turkey, ham they’re…they’re in that section, right over there you see- “. The man in the suit interrupted. “Oh, I am sorry dear. I do not believe we are talking about the same thing. I was told there would be a fair stock of freshly harvested meats, available for purchase”. “I…I don’t know what you mean sir”. “Oh, I think you do”. The man didn’t move. He stayed standing in front of the counter, staring the silent cashier down. She looked down in despair, I could hear her breathing and whimpers as the man remained. It was as if he were programmed, like a non-player character in a game, waiting for input before he could deliver another line of dialogue or make any move. I saw the manager walk up from behind. She must have been waiting in the back of the store. Standing behind the man, albeit a good distance away, she addressed him herself. “How can we help you, sir?” She said, rather calm. The man slowly turned around. He was, to put it bluntly, extraordinarily handsome and well-kept. Clean shaven, with no bags under his eyes, no blemishes or imperfections in his skin, and pearly white teeth that glared from across the room as his eyes met the manager. “Good evening. I was told there would be a fair stock of freshly harvested meat, available for purchase”. He repeated to the manager while still sporting his gentle smile. The manager took a deep breath before she looked back up, making eye contact and saying. “Sir, unfortunately, we have run out of fresh meat. If you come back again, we will have a fresh shipment available for purchase, but we do not have any at the moment. Thank you for shopping with us”. The man’s smile faded as he stared down at the manager for what must have been a good half minute. The complete absence of even the slightest movement made him look more like a statue than a person. He seemingly broke whatever trance he was in, and his smile returned. “I understand. I will return. I wish you, ladies, a wonderful night”. And with that, he calmly walked out of the automatic doors, leaving the store. The cashier behind the counter broke down in tears. The manager walked behind the counter, put an arm around her, and escorted her to the back of the store. I followed. The manager got to the opposite back corner of the store I had been hiding and opened some sort of janitor closet. Inside was the third employee whom I saw retreat to the back of the store earlier. He was on a phone, not a cellphone, some sort of wireless home phone that I assumed to be the phone for the store. “Were you able to get in touch with them?” The manager asked after gently helping the hysterical cashier to the floor of the closet. “They’re still trying to figure out how to get here. It might take them a while. Can you hold it down by yourself out there?” The manager nodded her head as she let out another sigh, closing the door and turning around to me. “We might be here for a while. I need one of my employees on the phone so we can get help and the other seems to be incapable of helping so I need you to do as I say so we can all survive this. You don’t have a choice, if you try to leave, if you mess up, if you don’t do exactly as I say, we all die. Understand?” “I…Yeah, I understand”. I assured, complimented by a nod of the head. Though, I was far from assured in my ability, and even more so, that any of this was real. I still had no clue what was going on and who “they” were, either regarding the odd man in the suit or whomever the employee in the closet was on the phone with. The manager walked behind the counter, next to the first register. I thought about running, about booking it out that door and getting back to my apartment where I wouldn’t have to deal with this circus of a prank they were running. I didn’t have time to formulate a plan to run. The automatic doors opened again, and I heard quieter, yet frantic footsteps enter. I looked at the manager and she waved her hand and silently mouthed what I assumed to be “hide” before ducking under the counter herself. I shuffled back to my original spot, behind the aisles. The sickly sound of heavy breathing, like that of an old, asthmatic man joined the quick steps. They ran from the entrance to the counter. They stopped for a moment, but the breathing was incessant. It began running again. It seemed to get close, then far, then closer, then far, and closer again. I quickly put the pieces together, realizing it was moving up and down the aisles, sweeping all of them in order and it would eventually run down mine. I panicked for a few seconds, trying to piece together an idea of how not to be spotted. I hoped that whoever it was, wasn’t perceptive enough to notice me move over an aisle. When it got to the aisle before mine, I waited for it to walk a distance down, away from me. I turned around the edge of my aisle and took a peek around the corner. I finally saw. It wasn’t a person. It stood about four or five feet above the ground. It was completely naked and had pale, white skin, too white to be any living human. Its back was massively hunched, its spine protruding so far it looked as if it would tear through the flesh any moment. The legs were thin and small, they didn’t look like they could support the weight of the creature they carried. The feet and toes were like that of a lizard. When it turned the corner, I could see its short arms with human-like hands that were far too large for proportionality with dirty, long, black nails. Its chest was defined by tight skin over a large ribcage, and the rest of its torso looked tightly wrapped to its skeleton as if it was starving to death. The face was the worst. Its jaw was much, much longer than that of any person and came to a point on the bottom, looking almost cartoonish. Its mouth was left open, leaving the teeth and gums exposed. The teeth looked pristine like they were made perfectly and couldn’t possibly have any blemishes, but they were long, very long. Impossibly long. The gums were black, they seemed to be rotting away. The nose and eyes were like that of a man, but the whites were some sort of shade of green like an illness had been contracted and turned them that color. It had only a few stands of wiry, white hair. I moved as quietly as I could to the next aisle. When the creature had finally finished searching the whole of the store, it made its way out of the aisles and through the automatic doors of the store, incessantly breathing all the way, like it was about to drop dead any minute. Only seconds later, the doors opened again. The manager yelled for me to come to the front. I hesitantly got out from behind my aisle and walked up, cautiously, eyeing up the door to see who was about to come through but it just seemed to stay open. “Get behind the counter. Do not say anything. Smile when they do”. “Smile when who- “. “Shhh”. A child ran through the door. A child? Out in this city? At this hour? Why? Where were its parents? Six more followed. They all seemed very young, around 5 or 6 would be my guess. They started running all over the store, between the aisles, and around the front. I think they were playing some game like tag or hide and seek for a while, laughing and acting as you would expect kids this age to act. “Just let them be and do as I said. When they smile, smile back”. The manager reminded me. They kept on playing for five minutes or so before they collectively stopped running around and came to the front. They quickly formed a single-file line in front of the counter before each one grabbed a bar of chocolate from the shelves next to the counter, the type that stores use to display small items like snacks and magazines that people are inclined to buy on impulse. The first kid walked up to the manager at the register and pulled out a dollar and some change. It happened to be the exact price of the bar. Though, in this situation, I don’t think anyone would have protested if it weren’t. After the first kid placed his change on the counter, he turned and looked at me. He just maintained eye contact while not displaying any particular emotion, very much like how normal children stare at strangers in public for no particular reason. But, I found out soon enough that these weren’t normal children. The kid smiled at me and I, doing as I was instructed, smiled back. Unfortunately, I couldn’t bare to maintain my smile when the kid’s smile grew, revealing that his mouth opened from one end of his head to another, practically touching ear to ear. He revealed his long row of jagged teeth. He must have noticed a change in mood from my facial expression and luckily for me, so did the manager. She turned her head slightly in my direction. “Smile. Back”. She said quietly, yet very firm. I forced myself to smile, staring at this monster, not a child, that had locked its gaze with mine. It giggled, breaking focus from me before grabbing the candy bar and running out of the store. I endured the same treatment for the next five. All of them did the exact same thing. It felt as though I were an assembly line worker whose function was simply to be exposed to the unnatural image of those monsters while I tried my hardest to hold a smile. Luckily, it wasn’t long and I was relieved for it to be over. I turned and started to walk away from the counter before the manager grasped my arm and yanked me back. “There’s still one here. We don’t move until it leaves”. I nodded my head and said nothing. I could hear it running around in the back aisles of the store. I guess this one was the troublemaker of the group. “I’m gonna find youuu”. It said in its squeaky voice as it ran. A few minutes passed before it stopped, right in front of the janitor's closet. It looked up at it like it knew something before gripping the handle and pulling it down. The cashier was holding the door and tried to resist it from opening but she was nowhere near strong enough. The child monster let out a scream before yanking the door with incredible force, breaking it off its hinges and sending the cashier across the floor. It looked back and forth from the cashier to the other employee on the phone before, in a playful voice, telling them “I’m gonna tell on youuu!” Before proceeding to run out of the store giggling the entire time, not bothering to buy a candy bar like the others. The cashier seemed to be knocked unconscious. The other employee peeked out of the closet, with the door now gone. He looked at the manager “What do we do now? We have no idea which one the fucking kid is going to wake up, it could be one of the thousands. Our friends haven’t found their way here yet either. I think we need to make a run for it”. “No. No! You and I both know that won’t play out well for us. We need to stay here until it passes or until the team gets here. Take the phone and go hide behind the aisles. We need to keep in touch. If we don’t…Shit! Hide. Hide!” The manager quickly ducked under the counter. Me and the employee with the phone ran to the back corner of the store. As the automatic doors opened once again, I looked back to see we had forgotten something. The cashier was still on the floor, knocked out, and unresponsive. I tried to get to her but I was caught by the employee next to me. With the phone still in one hand, shaking his head, he whispered to me “Don’t, it’s too late”. My heart sank in my chest but I believed him to be right. I sat down with weak legs. Again, the store was quiet, quiet enough for us to hear the hooves clanking against the hard floor as they entered. Sadistic laughter joined them. This one sounded like an adult voice, and likely a man. The steps were loud enough that it was obvious whatever was walking had some weight to it. It was walking next to the aisles opposite of us, where the cashier was still laying. We moved to the edge of our aisle but stayed long enough to see it. Coming into view from behind the aisle opposite of us were the legs of a deer supporting the upper body of a man, or at least it looked to be the case, I couldn’t be sure because it was clothed in a red and blue clown outfit. The jester-style hat matched the colors. It stood around 6’ or so but the body underneath stretched the arms and shoulders of the outfit from its massive build. The hands were black and each finger had a jagged, long, and sharp nail. The face was pale but shiny as if it had been painted. The lips and around the eyes were painted as well, though they were black. The nose was a round red ball. It stopped walking and laughing when it got to that aisle, right in front of the broken door and the unconscious cashier that lay in front of it. The clown bent down and effortlessly picked up the cashier by her neck, and held her up in front of him. It stared at her, tilting its head in curiosity as if it had found some type of rare specimen as if it weren’t one itself. The employee next to me was whispering a rushed description through the phone. I could hear a voice on the other end though it was much too quiet to make out any words. The cashier opened her eyes, finally waking up before her eyes grew even wider as she realized what she was looking at. She screamed at the clown holding her up by the neck. It seemed to be repulsed by the scream and pulled her in, clenching its jaw around her neck and taking a bite. Her mouth hung open as she was instantly silenced. The clown took another bite before reaching its other hand up to grab her head as well. In a swift motion, it ripped the head from the body and tossed it in our direction. Spreading blood around the back aisle like a sprinkler, the head landed only feet from where we were standing. I didn’t dare to take another peak but it didn’t matter anyways. Another round of hysterical laughter broke out from the clown. “I know you’re over there. Want me to come to show you a trick?” Came a surprising and offsetting high-pitched voice. The employee next to me dropped the phone and tried to make a run for it. He made it to the open space in front of the counter before the clown ran in front of him. The employee’s full-speed sprint was easily broken and he tumbled back. The clown wasn’t phased by being run into one bit. It picked the employee up by the wrists and lifted him to its level. It violently pulled on both arms and ripped them from their sockets. The employee, still left alive, let out his own blood-curdling screams as he bled out helplessly on the floor. The clown laughed for a moment before lunging out with a kick from its hoof, crushing his skull. I looked down at the phone, hearing some sort of feedback from whoever was on the other end. I picked it up and held it to my ear. “Hello?” I whispered in a raspy and frightened voice. “Listen, you need to blind it. Check our phone. I know it wouldn’t work before but it will now. You need to turn the flashlight on and point it in its eyes. Are you hearing me?” I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket. It was on, and more than that, it was somehow fully charged. I hadn’t charged it. This made no sense. The clown spoke from the middle of the store. “Don’t you go thinking I forgot about you now. I’ve got a different trick for you. I know you’ll like it” I dropped the store phone and, like the employee, I tried to run. I dashed down the last aisle before realizing I had no clue where the hell I planned on going. I panicked, reaching for my cell phone again. It fell from my pocket, onto the floor. I quickly recovered it, trying to turn the flashlight on as running hooves approached from behind me. As I was grabbed and forcefully turned over, but I had the luck of turning on the phone's flashlight just in time. The clown screamed in pain and anger as it ran past me and into the other aisles. It ripped and threw everything off the shelves it possibly could, trashing the store and tearing it apart. I recovered and kept pointing my phone’s flashlight in its direction. It tripped over a shelf it had torn in half and fell flat on its face. Jumping back to its feet, the clown turned around and swatted at me but covered its eyes and resumed its wretched screams when the light met its eyes once again. It ran, tripping and screaming, through the doors of the store and left. It was silent once again. The manager, who had been taking cover behind the counter this whole time, stood up and got a look at the carnage herself. I could tell by her face that something inside her had died when she saw the dismembered bodies of her coworkers but she said nothing about it. Instead, she turned to me and asked “Where is the phone?” I turned off my cell phone flashlight and put it back into my pocket before walking over the mess of merchandise and blood to the back of the store. I picked up the store phone and walked it to the front, handing it to the manager who hadn’t moved, still staring in horrid disbelief at the bodies in front of her. She took it and began conversing with someone on the other end. I stayed where I was, not having the guts to look behind me and see it again. After about thirty seconds of a conversation from which I could understand nothing and one I wasn’t paying much attention to in the first place, the manager let out another sigh, this one of relief, and muttered “Oh, thank god. How long?” More talking from the other end. “Ok…Ok, I can do that. There is still one other alive. I’ll have him watch out for your arrival”. With that, the manager set down the phone and looked at me with drained and tired eyes. “I need you to stand by the door and watch for black SUVs to pull up. Let me know when they get here. Yell to me and I’ll tell you if they’re the team we are expecting. If they’re not, hide. I need to do something in the back” She picked back up the phone and headed to the back of the store. I didn’t feel like asking any more questions. I figured that whoever this team was, they must be our way out of this nightmare. I walked over and stood in front of the automatic doors, looking outside. I couldn’t see anything but the typical street I knew, but with no one on it. All the time I waited, I could hear the manager tinkering with something in the back. It was here that I began to process everything I had just been through. It was too much. My thoughts and emotions ran wild in my head, but above all, I wanted to know what this was. For the next few minutes, I weighed the possibilities in my head and contemplated the merit of each of them, of any of them. None of them gave a clear explanation. I still don’t have one. Eventually, the black SUVs pulled up and a mix of men in tactical gear with rifles and others in formal suits poured out. There were four or five cars and around six people emptied from each. I turned to the back of the store and yelled “Hey! Is this them? They’re here” I received no response. “Hey!” I yelled again as I walked to the back of the store. At the end of the backmost aisle, The phone lay on the ground. I walked up to it in confusion and kneeled to pick it up but I was close enough to make out the yells on the other end before I did. “We’re here. Do you copy? Hello? Our team is entering now. Are you still with us? Hello?” Before I could pick up the phone, I stood back up and walked around the corner, into the last aisle. The manager was on the ground, laying face up and in her own pool of blood. Her body was cut open at the belly and on top of her crouched a man. It was the man from earlier, the first one who walked in. The tall man with a fancy old suit and hat but this time he was without the hat and coat for his suit. He held a large knife which he was carving into the manager’s body. Organs surrounded the two, he must have ripped them out. He looked up from what he was doing and smiled at me before looking back down and continuing. In a matter-of-fact voice, he spoke to me. “I did say I would be back for the meat. I don’t have any problem harvesting it myself”. With that, he pulled her heart out and held it up like it was a piece of art he was proud of before putting it in a suitcase on the floor next to him and closing it. He stood up, looking at me and then at his knife. “I’m sure you’ll give me fine cuts too” Returning his glare to me and smiling again. He let out an angry grunt before charging at me. I turned back around the corner and ran for the door. He stopped in his tracks when he saw the men approaching from outside. “Well, aren’t you the lucky one tonight” He returned his knife to a sheath in his vest before calmly turning around and heading back into the last aisle. He came back with his suitcase in hand and the manager’s body over his shoulder, carrying her like she was weightless. He approached the janitor’s closet and opened the door I swore was ripped off its hinges not minutes before. When he opened it, cold air poured out and in the small angle available to me, I saw a body hanging from a meathook. The man walked in, throwing the manager’s body somewhere inside before turning around and gabbing the door handle. He looked at me one last time before closing it. In a friendly tone again, he spoke one last time. “Good day”. The automatic doors opened behind me and the swarm of men rushed in. Immediately, half a dozen or so walked to the closet door and pointed their weapons at it. When it opened, they were met with the inside of a closet and nothing more. “Fuck!” I heard one scream before kicking some bread off of a shelf. “We’ve been after that son of a bitch for months. How does he get away every time?” Another commented. The rest swept around the remainder of the store. Some brought in weird-looking equipment. Too much was happening for me to account for all of it but I did take note of some of what they were doing. Some collected hairs that had fallen on the floor. Others used a blacklight to show the footprints from the previous hunched-back monster. They collected all the change and one-dollar bills the children had payed with. Eventually, two large boxes were brought in that they used to collect the bodies of the other workers. I was left unaccounted for it seemed. A few minutes passed before one man in a suit approached me. He didn’t have any interest in asking me anything, it was clear he wanted to make a statement. “I know this is a lot to take in, and I know that not much of it makes any sense. There's no way we can explain it to you that will. I am sorry for whatever you had to see or experience tonight but there's nothing we can do about it. These…these things are doing this to people all around the world for reasons we have yet to discover. This is the 7th time this store, in particular, has been targeted. We are doing what we can. We are one of the only ones out there trying to stop them. We need you to stay silent about this, if people know about us, if they find out, we’ll be shut down and none of this will ever be fixed. People will die and it will only get worse. If you want to save anyone else, keep your mouth shut” He breathed and looked at me in pity. He pointed towards the entrance. “You can walk out of those doors whenever you’re ready”. I don’t know what he meant but I never planned on keeping it silent. What happened to those convenience store workers needs to be told. People need to be aware of this. Though, I didn’t let my intentions be known there. I said nothing and walked through the automatic doors and outside, in front of the street packed with their vehicles. I looked back at the store. The lights were on and it was empty. I turned back to the street. The SUVs were all gone. People were back, walking about like they would on any other night. I heard the metro train approaching again. It was done.

Hey, thanks for cat sitting on such short notice!

y7obf6

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y7obf6/hey_thanks_for_cat_sitting_on_such_short_notice/

​ *I’ll be in Kansas for the week helping my pops rebuild our old family farm, devastating that tornado was! All the cell towers are down, and considering it’s rural Kansas, it ain’t gonna be up anytime soon, so you won’t be able to contact me… so hopefully everything goes smoothly!* *I got ONLY three cats:* *Wilfred — all black* *Butters — grey* *Suzy — all white* *They‘re simple cats, fairly easy to watch, just refill their food and water each day and clean the litter box. Then I got a few more easy peazy rules for taking care of them. Follow them, please.* *1. Be VERY nice to Wilfred, the other cats respect him, he likes you, they’ll like ya too!* *1.5 . He’s a little old and blind, sometimes gets in the way, just watch where you’re walking.* *2. Butters gets some special treats in the blue container in the fridge, hand feed 5 pieces to him every day.* *3. Suzy NEEDS to be pet 2 hours a day, because otherwise, well, she can be a real b, if you know what I’m saying.* *4. If you hear meowing coming from a different room, but can see all three cats, do NOT go investigate the meowing. If you don’t see all three cats, you can check on it.* *See, the rules are easy, the job is simple and I will compensate you well for all your time when I get back.* *Again thank you so much,* *Amanda.* I set the letter down. Yikes, I truly should’ve had Amanda explain the details of this “easy cat sitting” thing before I agreed. But honestly, I probably still would’ve done it because she, to be blunt, is very hot, and hot girls are rare to find around here. So if I have to put up with some crazy cat lady bull shit to get a chance with a beautiful woman, so be it. Day One I didn’t realize how far from society Amanda's house is. She literally lives in the middle of nowhere. The last sign of civilization I saw was at least 7 miles back, the scenery is trees, trees, and you guessed it! More trees! Finally, I see the single cottage-like home perched on top of the hill. I parked my car near the front porch and found my way inside using the spare key hidden under the welcoming mat. I stepped inside and was instantly greeted by 3 cats staring me down. I gave them all a quick scratch on the head, “hi Wilfred, Butters, Suzy,” acknowledging each cat as I spoke their name. “I’m Matt, I’ll be taking care of you for the week and hopefully will be getting a date with your hot mom afterwards.” All three cats stared at me blankly, I begin sensing a weird tension in the room. I awkwardly started walking around the house. I gave myself a tour of Amanda’s place, her home is pretty tiny, so it didn’t take long. I found her bathroom first, which also happens to be where she has the litter box. I did my business and then cleaned up the cat’s business, too. “If I was more talented, I probably could’ve done it at the same time,” I told Wilfred, who was trailing me as I made my way around the house. I took note of the layout of the house, Amanda’s bedroom across from the bathroom, and at the far end of the hallway was a basement, maybe. Couldn’t tell for sure as the door was closed and I didn’t want to be snoopy. I made my way into the kitchen to hand-feed little Butters his treats. “Here Butters, come on now, come get your— oh, oh my god what is that,” as I opened the blue container a rotting, putrid smell came out. I fingered out a chunk of the gooey, red meat. “This can’t be right, it must’ve gone bad. You can’t possibly want to eat this, do you?” I asked Butters. The cat excitedly pranced back and forth meowing, as if saying “it’s all good Matt!”. I know cats can’t really beg, but I definitely would consider this the cat version of it. I plugged my nose and hand-fed him 5 pieces, one after another. He gulped each portion and even attempted to lick the remaining goop off my hands. Now it was time for the long and honestly questionable part: petting a cat for 2 whole hours. I took a couple of steps from the kitchen to the living room and plopped myself on the couch and put on the longest movie I could find on Netflix, 2 hours and 36 minutes. Suzy must’ve known it was her time to shine because she nestled herself into my lap and used her head to nudge my hand. Let the pets begin. Halfway through the movie I heard faint meowing. First thing I did was figure out where each cat was, Butters on the kitchen counter, Suzy on my lap, and Wilfred snuggled up in the corner of the couch. I attempted to ignore them, remembering the 4th rule, but the meows were slowly becoming more and more abrupt. I started standing up and Wilfred jumped up and sat on my feet, staring me down as if saying “no” to me. I sat back down and continued watching the movie, shortly after the cries stopped. After the movie was over, the entourage of cats escorted me to the door. “Bye little kitties, maybe one day I’ll pet you during a movie with your hot mom at my side!” As a I was shutting the door, I swear I heard Butters gag. Day 2 This day was very lackluster, cleaned the litter box and refilled the cat chow and water, with my diligent helper, Wilfred, watching my every move. I continued the rest of my tasks, fed Butters that rancid meat, pet Suzy, and I even pet Wilfred with my other hand while I was petting Suzy! The muffled meows started towards the end of the movie this time; all the cats gave me a warning glance when I started to stand as if they were urging me to sit back down. Day 3 Fuck. I’m so late, slept through my alarm like a fucking idiot, and only have 20 minutes to deal with these damn cats or I’ll be late to work. I didn’t even turn my car off and ran through the house hastily doing all the chores. Threw some of that gross-ass meat on the counter and laid a few pets on Suzy and rushed back out the door. Day 4 On the way into Amanda’s house, I felt very uneasy about how I left the cats yesterday. It was a shit show, to say the least, and the anticipation made me feel uneasy. “They're just damn cats, Matt, they probably don’t even care,” I reminded myself. I entered the kitchen and on the counter I only saw one cat, Wilfred. He was staring deeply at me, examining me. I went up and pet his soft head and held his face in my hands. “Ahhh boy I’m sorry, I’m sorry I suck Wilfred.” I backed away to search for the other cats, and gave one last glance at Wilfred who now had a pondering look on his formerly bleak face. I heard meowing and scratching down the hallway and figured I would be fine to follow the sounds since I couldn’t find the other cats, and the rule said I could if a cat was missing. Butters was eagerly scratching at the door towards the end of the hallway, the one I refused to snoop in on the first day. He saw me and meowed towards the door, and I swear I could hear muffled meows coming from the other side. I reached for the door and Wilfred came flying in from the kitchen and cemented himself in front of the door hissing and swatting me away. I backed off and he turned his attention to Butters giving him a threatening glare. In the commotion, Susie slowly waddled out from Amanda’s room. She seemed uninterested, or maybe was it disappointed? After the tension cleared up, and I was certain I wouldn’t have to break up any catfights, I started doing my daily tasks. Wilfred monitored me and our surroundings with alertness. I attempted to pet Suzy for a while, but she must hold grudges because I was being hissed and clawed at the whole time. “Dumb bitch cat,” I muttered while dabbing up blood from the cuts that marked my whole arm. I opened the fridge to once again feed Butters his foul treats. I held out a paleish pink piece and Butters took the whole chunk in one bite, nearly getting my fingers. I hold out the next piece and he misses completely, sinking his teeth into my index finger! “Ah fuck, fuck you, Butters!” I yelled at the cat. That was my final straw with these dumb cats! I'm so done! I start putting on my shoes to get the fuck out of this place when through my socks I start to feel a warm, soggy mass. Fucking cat shit. Enraged, I rip my shoes off and start running towards the bathroom sink. In my rage I accidentally kick Wilfred, sending the cat into the wall with a thud. I rinse off my shoes and they still smell that bitch cat probably pissed on them too. I say fuck it and leave the shoes; they’re ruined beyond repair. I’m leaving this house, shoeless and outraged. I open the door and take one last glance back on the cats and see Butters and Suzy comforting the hurt Wilfred. Day 5 So, I know I made it seem like I would never go back to Amanda’s, but I found out my shoes have a warranty on them so if I can get them back, I’ll be able to get new ones. No cat in sight as I enter the house. I walked through the hallway to the bathroom and found my shoes. “Perfect, now I can get out of here.” I turn to leave, and Butters is purring and caressing my leg, maybe he feels bad for being a little asshole yesterday. I pet his head and then he beckons me to follow him. He leads me to the end of the hallway and starts scratching at the closed door again. I search around for the other cats, remembering the rule, and see Suzy sleeping at the end of the hallway. No Wilfred anywhere though. I stood there debating if I should open it, but then I start to hear meowing behind the door again. Not muffled like what I’ve normally heard, but loud, distressing cries. It has to be Wilfred; he must be hurt pretty badly from when I kicked him yesterday. “I’m coming, Wilfred!” I open the door and am hit with a rancid smell; I plug my nose before I plunge further down the stairs. Thoughts of a decaying cat raced through my mind. “Come on Wilfred, don’t hide, let’s get you upstairs, you dumb cat!” I hear a loud bang and assume a draft must’ve slammed the door shut because I’m now without any glimmer of light, I pull out my phone flashlight and scan the basement. I see shelves full of jars with this pinkish substance and as I examine them closer, I see hooves and paws and is... is that a hand? “What is this!” I shine my light around once more and in horror see miscellaneous carcasses rotting around the room. “I need to leave!” Turning towards the exit I see a giant cat with red eyes, it’s hissing and swatting towards me to back up. It then starts circling around waiting for a reason to attack. From the corner of my eye, I see Wilfred sitting still on the staircase, then he gives a slight nod and the big cat lunges at me. Day 3 of being home from Kansas I shut my laptop off. I couldn’t watch anymore; I can still hear the echo of Matt’s screams in my head even when they weren’t playing. The moment I got home from Kansas, I knew something was wrong. I still had a sliver of hope Matt was okay though, even when his car was still parked in my driveway, and when I entered the house and only Wilfred and Suzy greeted me at the door but lost it all when I got a whiff of the deathly smell that was wafting through my house. I remember begrudgingly walking down the hallway, spotting Matt’s shit-covered shoes on the floor. Embarrassingly, I was still blindly praying he was just fine. When I noticed the basement door was wide open, I knew that was the complete opposite of the truth. Expectantly, I found Butters and Juney by Matt’s body, well you know cats do have their preferred treats. The next thing I did that first day of being home was I needed to find Matt’s journal, and it was conveniently sitting unharmed in his pocket. After finding it, I got to work. That leads me to now, three days later. You see, usually, after having a cat sitter I would come home to a body and have no clue what happened, so when I found out Matt was a journalist, I thought maybe I had a chance at seeing from the cat sitter's perspective what goes wrong? By going through Matt’s journal and filling in missing pieces that I gathered from the security tapes, I’ve been able to put all the events in order. I’ve even decided to use Matt’s experience as a learning tool to educate possible future cat sitters, so they won’t make the same mistakes. And now that you have read and learned from my post, I can tell you my reason for sharing: Hi, y’all my name is Amanda I have 4 cats, and I’m looking to hire a cat sitter.

Someone is talking through my speakerphone from my apartment at night.

y8kayy

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y8kayy/someone_is_talking_through_my_speakerphone_from/

Well, I've been trying to find the source of the problem I'm facing for 3 days now. But I got my answer this morning. ​ I live in an apartment in Montreal. I moved there about 2 months ago to be closer to my work and my university. It's a pretty lively place where everyone seems to be friends. ​ For you to visualize the entrance to the building: A staircase leading down to a door which is the front door. There is also a list of the names of each of the residents of the apartment with a button that allows you to trigger the microphone to speak through so that the person who is in his apartment can hear you. This is also useful for package deliverers who want to alert me that one of my deliveries has arrived. ​ 4 days ago, on a Saturday, I was in my bed watching a Netflix movie. Since I didn't work on Saturdays and had a day off at my university, I decided to stay awake a lot more. Around 3:20 am, when I was watching my Netflix movie, a noise started to appear. At first, I thought it was coming from my oven which is a little defective and which produces a noise about every 5 hours. I also thought the noise was coming from my Netflix movie but the noise continued even when I paused. I get up and decide to find the source of the noise. After several investigations, I found the source of the noise. It was coming from the loudspeaker which was next to my door. The problem ? You have to press the button in the entrance hall of my apartment (the one where there is a button with my name on it). The only way to communicate with me is to long press the button. I open the door to my apartment to go to the lobby to see if anyone wants anything. ​ There was nobody. ​ I go back to my apartment and block my front door with a chair (just in case). The day after : I didn't understand why there was this noise and I just wanted to forget it so it wouldn't obsess me and kill my day. Evening : I come home after seeing a movie at the cinema. I'm pretty happy because I saw my friend today for the first time in 1 year (due to the change of house) We went to Bowling and to the cinema and said goodbye around 8:00 p.m. and we each go back to our apartments. 4:18 a.m : I'm in my bed. I was watching a Youtube video. And suddenly, a HUGE noise suddenly appears. I immediately got up from my bed to find out what was going on. ​ It was the loudspeaker again. ​ This time, I decide to answer by pressing the speaker button. \- Who are you ? The noise suddenly stopped. But I perceive footsteps that seem to go upside down (The footsteps decrease gradually). I decide to call the police because I really couldn't take it anymore. The police tell me they are sending 3 officers. Several minutes pass... ​ The hours pass... ​ It's been 4 hours since I called the police. Nobody came. I go to sleep putting my closet in front of my front door and putting black tape on my windows so we can't see through them. The next day (9:40 am) : Today I woke up sweating a lot. I took my phone and I noticed that I was called twice by the Montreal police at 5:38 in the morning. I decide to call them to find out what is going on. Someone was spotted in a bush that was stuck to the door leading to the apartment hall. According to the police officers, he was apparently waiting for someone. They found several items on him. Here they are : ​ \- Screwdriver \- Stolen identity card \- Lighter (but no cigarette) \- A photo in polaroid format ​ God knows how much I didn't want to see that picture. ​ It was me, crossing the street.

I went fishing in the Atlantic. The thing I reeled in should never have left the ocean.

y7r2ds

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y7r2ds/i_went_fishing_in_the_atlantic_the_thing_i_reeled/

The cold, grey sea stretched out in front of me. The smell of salt and brine filled the air. A thick fog shrouded the boat. I was out on the open sea for the first time. Behind me, Joe was working the engine, and Phil was sitting next to me on the small bench near the bow. Neither me or Phil had fished before, and I had barely even seen the ocean. Joe was an experienced fisherman, though. All of us had been friends in college, but as the years passed we had drifted apart. I was surprised when Joe invited the two of us to his cottage in Maine for a reunion, as we hadn’t spoken for nearly a year, but it sounded good. Joe had met the two of us at the small airport. We got in his car and started to drive down the bumpy dirt roads to his cottage. We caught up on the way. “Any of you been fishing before?” He asked us. We both said no. “I’ll take you. I know some great spots. We can go today, and cook our catch for dinner. I tell you, there isn’t anything like fresh-caught fish.” “Sounds good.” I responded. We arrived at the cottage soon after. It was a small, wooden house with faded red paint in a clearing close to the ocean. He parked his car in the dirt driveway. We got out and walked in. Joe flicked on the light. “Haven’t been here in a while.” He commented. “I’ll buy groceries after we catch some fish, and then I’ll make dinner.” I walked around the house. It was pretty basic, with an ancient kitchen, a few bedrooms, and an old bathroom. I unpacked my stuff. After a while, we were all ready. Joe led us down to a tiny marina, where a small motorboat was waiting for us, along with three fishing rods. We settled down into the boat, and Joe took us out. It was a foggy day, and soon we couldn’t see the coastline. After a while, Joe stopped and threw down the anchor. “This is a good spot.” Joe told us how to drop our lines in, and we did. I felt the reel get smaller and smaller. Eventually, it hit the bottom, and the line went slack. Joe was surprised. “It’s a lot deeper here than I thought.” We sat there in the foggy afternoon for a while. Nobody was getting a bite. “Do you think we should go somewhere else?” Phil asked. “Probably.” Joe admitted. “Let’s wait a little longer, though.” A few minutes later, and we still hadn’t caught anything. We were about ready to give up when I felt it. A tug. I jumped in surprise. “I got something!” I called out. I began to reel in furiously. “Don’t let it go!” Warned Phil. “That’s the first catch we got all day!” “Keep your rod steady. Don’t let go.” Joe advised. I reeled it in more and more. I could feel the fish fight against it furiously. It thrashed from side to side, rocking the boat greatly. Joe started to look excited. “It’s a big one. I’ve never caught anything that big before.” I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to catch it at all. It was so violent and ferocious, I could barely hold onto my rod. Suddenly, the fighting stopped. The line still had something on the end of it, but it was now stationary. “It stopped fighting.” I said dubiously. “But I can still feel something on the end.” I slowly began to reel it in. It was tough. Even if it wasn’t fighting, it was still heavy as hell. Maybe dropping it so low was a mistake - it had been several minutes and I still hadn’t gotten it yet. “Maybe we shouldn't have gone so deep.” Phil commented. Joe didn’t say anything. Then, I could see it. I couldn’t see it well - it was obstructed by a lot of water. But I could see its vague colour and shape. Finally, I finished reeling and it drew out of the waves. It wasn’t a fish. It was a man. His body was barnacled, and sea-worms had pokes orifices through his face. His clothes were ragged and torn, and they looked like they had come from a ship hundreds of years ago. My hook had pierced his head. We all stared in shock. I think Joe was about to say something when the silence was burst by the sound of frantic breathing. “You have to leave!” He croaked. His voice sounded waterlogged - like its vocal chambers were still half-filled with seawater. “Before it gets you!” “Before *what*?” I asked frantically. He was about to answer, when he was pulled back into the water with a force so great that the fishing rod was ripped straight out of my hands. I almost fell in too, but Phil quickly managed to grab me before I went overboard. “What was he talking about?” I asked Joe desperately. But Joe was gone. “Joe?” I called out nervously. “Where did he go?” asked Phil. “I’m not sure. Do you think he fell overboard?” I answered. Phil was about to respond, but we were interrupted by a swirling white vortex in the water. Our boat was near enough that we might get sucked in. “We have to go!” I yelled, struggling to be heard over the sound of swirling water. Phil had been on a boat a couple times, and knew the basics, so he was the one who leaped towards the engine, started it up, and pushed it as fast as it would go. I looked behind us, and saw what was causing the vortex - several colossal tentacles broke the seawater, and a staggeringly large diamond-shaped head lifted up into the foggy sky. Joe was dead. I don’t mean that he fell overboard - he had been dead for nearly a year. Nobody had lived in the cottage Joe said was his for nearly thirty years. The police didn’t believe our story, of course. I’ve talked to a couple of the locals. Most of them dismiss it outright, but there are a few of them - mostly older fishermen - who know about it. Sometimes they’ve heard about it happening to a friend - sometimes they were the ones who received the lure, a false message from an old friend, and only narrowly escaped like we did. One thing I didn’t know, though - who it was that was masquerading as Joe. That was until I saw his cause of death - lost at sea, at that exact same spot.

The capsule

y8j115

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y8j115/the_capsule/

It was just an ordinary Autumn day…or so I would think I was in the backyard with my friend Zander running around. Both of out parents were watching us from the balcony drinking wine and eating dinner. “I’ll race you to the swing” I said to Zander “You’re on!”he replied back. We were dashing to the tree at the end of my yard. It was head to head we made eye contact and pushed ourselves forward. Just then I tripped on something I fell face first into the wet grass I heard the giggles from Zander and my parents. In a calm gentle voice my mom said “Hey are you okay?” “Yes” I replied back “I think I tripped over a root.” I look at what caused my fall and it looked to be a handle. “Okay be careful sweetie” my mom said. Zander helped me up and we walked the rest of the way to the tree. Zander climbed onto the swing as I was pushing him I could not stop thinking about that handle. I started walking towards the handle while Zander was still on the swing “Alex!” He called at me. I did not respond back I just kept walking towards that handle. As I reached it I kneeled on the ground there were some dates on there. “1961-2011” I said too myself I brushed off the dirt covering the top of the box. As I was doing that it uncovered a steel box with roses as a pattern. “Woah” Zander said startling me. It just kept on going. It seemed to be at least 3 feet long. I was able to open the top of it and it was divided into sections. On to there was a note there. “Dear whoever is reading this, I was the first owner of this house if you found this it must be 50+ years into the future. I have put some stuff I thought was cool in this box.” There was a stop watch and some old toy cars in there. I opened up the second later and there was a stained blanket with flies and maggots crawling all over it. The odor that came out of it was horrid. I opened the second layer completely and I saw strands of blonde hair all over it. I opened the blanket fully and I saw it. A dead body,chunks of hair,blood, and even flesh were stuck on the bones. “Holy fuck” I screamed. My parent cam rushing over and dragged us away. There was an envelope I took with me when I got in my room I opened it it had a letter in it which read ”You found me…” there were pictures in there which showed the guy being stuffed alive into that box. They were scribbled in red pen with the word”I am sorry” “I should have listened” and “it’s too late”suddenly I woke up. I looked to my side and saw it crouching in the corner of my room. “Now get rid of me” then it disappeared.

I was in a band, and we didn't release a thing, but my fan base is growing somehow

y72fvq

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y72fvq/i_was_in_a_band_and_we_didnt_release_a_thing_but/

It all started with a single email: ​ From: lilithchild13 (at) xxxxxxxxxx To: jason.reiterberg (at) xxxxxxxxx Time: 02/09/2022 18:31 ​ “Hello! I just wanted to say I’m a huge fan of your music. The lyrics are exceptional. It’s like you’ve seen the inside of my head. Man, that ”Blasphemy in Darkness“ really hit me hard. Didn’t like your cover songs, tbh. But the original ones are dope. When will you release something? XOXO LilithChild13“ ​ That was… something, and I think I need to bring some context here. I played in a couple of bands when I was in college. That’s, what? 15 years ago? Mostly as a session guitarist and a drummer. Nothing serious or groundbreaking. Just a couple of dudes jamming some metal. We never got big or even reached that step where we would record a demo tape and send it over to a recording company. ​ Yeah, back then it was much harder to become a musical phenomenon: now you can streak three chords, upload it and wake up famous. Not then. ​ But point is - we never went out in public seriously. We threw a couple of gigs and even performed in a club, but the crowd was mostly our friends and their friends. What was the band name, again? “Grim Sorrow” or “Dim Sorrow”, even I can’t recall at this time. And that girl (?) even knew the song's name. How? Are my friends pulling pranks on me? ​ So I replied with the following: ​ “Dear, LilithChild13. Thank you for your kind words and I appreciate your interest in our music, but the sad news is - we broke up 15 years ago, and I don’t know how did you hear about us, but consider that as our Opus Magnum. There’s no chance we’ll be getting back together anytime soon, sorry. Have a great day. ​ Regards, Jason“ ​ And that was it. Exciting, if you ask me. My first fan letter, even though it was 15 years late. I’ve been submerged in memories of the good old days. What a pity that Mark passed away. That dude could growl like a beast. And I wonder where did Kyle go… The last time I heard about him - was at a class reunion 10 years ago. He was going to Africa to build houses for the poor or something… ​ Morning greeted me with a reply to my message: ​ From: lilithchild13 (at) xxxxxxxxxx To: jason.reiterberg (at) xxxxxxxxx Time: 03/09/2022 02:18 ​ “Nooooo! That’s so unfair. You can’t leave me like that. I want more. I need more. You’ve composed all of it. Start a new band or find new players, I don’t know. You need to play or I don’t want to live, jk lol. But seriously, Is it so much that I ask? I watched all your videos and even went through your unfinished material - there’s so much potential. Especially that ”Queen of Worms“ you’ve never completed. It’s so good. Please? ​ Love, LilithChild13“ ​ I didn’t believe my eyes at first. No, of course, there was a probability somebody filmed us on that gig and such, mobile cameras were already a thing back there, but the second part… Not a single person knew about that song. I never showed it to anyone. “Queen of Worms” was written after a breakup with my girlfriend back then. I was sad and angry, so I wrote a verse and chorus, but never finished it. ​ “Hi, LilithChild13. The videos? I don’t recall anything like that, at least the ones I would be aware of. How did you know about that song? ​ Regards, Jason“ ​ The response dropped immediately: ​ “Hi, Jason. Well, the videos were hard to get and I paid a lot to obtain them. The recordings from security cameras in club ”Paramount“, remember? This is a jewel among collector’s items and now I own it. And as for the song for your ex-girlfriend… I know a lot of things about you, Jason. He-he. So it seems you are interested in recording some new material, amirite? :D ​ Love, LilithChild13“. ​ That was disturbing. Security cameras? Personal details? Am I being stalked or something or is it a stupid joke? I wonder if Kyle is experiencing the same shit. So I went to search for my old notebook where I had his number written. 40 minutes later I entered the digits and pressed “call”. But no luck - there was no response. I wonder if he even uses the number anymore. ​ So I checked my writing again and called his parents. Minutes later I hanged the phone, devastated - Kyle, my former drummer and friend died 2 years ago in an accident on a construction site. That was just sad… ​ A notification popped up informing me of a new email, I opened it. ​ “Hey! I’m not taking ”no“ for an answer. So, what do you say? Heading to the studio already? ​ Love, LilithChild13“. I was furious. This was becoming quite annoying, so without a second thought I fired back: ​ “Hey. I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but this is a bit too much, don’t you think? There will be no new songs. Please, stop writing me. Get a life. ​ Regards, Jason“. ​ And just as I tapped “Send” on my phone - a new one arrived: ​ “Oh! Look who’s talking. Mr. Tough Guy! Look, Jason. Your thoughts are tangled right now, you’re not thinking straight. I’m pretty sure you would enjoy writing some songs once you get enough motivation. You are a creator, so you can’t just be aside from your talent. Let’s try something else then. ​ Love, LilithChild13.“ ​ I blocked the address and went to take care of my business, pretty sure that the problem is solved. I didn’t have time to mess with some cuckoos who had nothing better to do with their lives. I spent the day with my woodworking project in the shed, so most of the time only the buzzing of the saw and drill noises were my company. ​ Later in the evening, I checked my phone - not expecting to see what was there. Hundreds and hundreds of emails. Some of them were marked important and were placed atop the list. ​ “Hey, Jason. This is James from that band that was in Stranger Things, he-he. I & Kirk listened to your songs and thought you’d be a perfect match for our upcoming tour…” ​ “Hey, son. I just found your old guitar in the garage. So nostalgic. We spent a fortune on your equipment, as you seemed so excited. And we never heard any of your songs. Your mother and I are not getting younger, you know…” ​ “Hey, this is Michael, your CEO. We never met in person, but it came to me that you are quite a talented musician. Would you care to write some jingles for our next promo campaign…”. ​ All the addresses were fake as fuck. Though they were countless. Some of them were in foreign languages, I guess I saw a couple of emails written in Japanese, or was it Chinese? ​ I have been spammed and it looked like someone had an obsession. I spent some time clearing my inbox by deleting batches and batches of new arrivals. By the night, that crazy person got tired, I think and the thing stopped. I put the phone in silent mode and went to sleep. ​ By morning there was a single new email reading: “Well, did it work? :D” sent from ab\_bad\_don666 (at) xxxxxxxxx. I blocked that too. I washed my face and went out to get something for breakfast. The next incident happened in the store: there were a couple of teens, wearing all black, heavy makeup, studs, spikes, and chains. As I was checking the cereal section - they came along, whispering something to each other and looking at me. Finally, one of them approached me and said: “Hi. I’m sorry, but aren’t you the guitarist for Grim Sorrow? May I ask you for a favor, please? Could you sign me, sir?” ​ “Excuse me, do I know you? What are you talking about?” - I didn’t understand and just stared back at the teen, who was handing me a large bowie knife. ​ “Right here” - he said, rolling up the sleeve, revealing the pale skin of his forearm, making his intention clear. ​ “Are you out of your fucking mind? I am not doing that. What the fuck? Are you that Lilith Child?” - I almost shouted back at him. ​ “No, I’m Gore Master, a huge fan” - he smiled back at me with all that makeup making his face look like a macabre mask. ​ I just walked away, leaving the kids standing there with their knife and stupid requests. What the hell was going on? Did I wake up to become a meme character or something? I just didn’t add up. ​ The following weeks made things worse - I transferred all my contacts to a new email address and terminated my main account. That didn’t help. Somehow they found out - my inbox is bloated with emails. So is my physical one - tons of handwritten letters, asking for one thing - more songs. ​ I see more and more teens wearing black around the town. They keep following me wherever I go. This is insane. I went to the cops, and you know what? ​ “Hey, aren’t you that guy from that band? My daughter is a huge fan. Could I get an autograph?” - the officer told me. ​ It’s like my whole town went crazy at the same time. ​ The messages are getting grimmer and grimmer - I tend to read them from time to time. They vary from “Will you drop a song if I sacrifice myself tonight?..” to “I will break your knees and spoon-feed you as long as it’s necessary until you record the album”. ​ I have no clue what to do. Police just ignore my claims, saying those are just edgy teens and there is no threat to my life. Whom should I call? National guard? ​ I was about to post this and ask for your advice, but then something unnerving happened. I was sitting in my room upstairs, browsing Reddit, when suddenly I got a message notification. I would ignore it, the same way I did to thousands of others, but something made me click it. It read: ​ “Jason, we are still not getting anywhere, so I, the president of your fan club decided to take action. We decided to visit you and make sure we’re on the same note here. This is taking too long and we can’t wait any longer. We will force you to do it if you’re not feeling it. Art is for the people, not for keeping to yourself. As a deed of goodwill - we brought Mark and Kyle with us, so maybe seeing old friends will light a spark? See you soon. :) ​ Best wishes, Horned Shadow”. ​ And then I realized I’m not alone. The sky was pitch black with clouds covering the rising moon. Dead silence hung in the house and I heard the floorboards creaking slightly in a room below. I leaned to the door and listened - there were some whispers and quiet shuffling sounds as if somebody was dragging a duffle bag across the hall. And then the smell kicked in - as if some raccoon found its way to a space between the walls and died there, emanating the horrible stench of putrid flesh. ​ I’ve never felt more scared in my life. What were they up to? I called 112 as quietly as I could and before I said anything the operator said to my ear: “Hi Jason. Thank you for your call. Are you excited about a reunion party? We all expect new songs soon….”

My lizard is acting weird

y8hxri

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y8hxri/my_lizard_is_acting_weird/

I have a long tailed grass lizard name Stripey (Male, 2) and he is the sweetest little boy ever, I have many pets but he is my closest friend, he watches movies with me, I knit and 3d print him little toys, he never bites, he is even certified as an emotional support animal, he would never hurt me, the only times he was aggressive is during feeding. He lives in a 280 liter tank with a bioactive set up, he is living his best life he can, vet procured food, the whole 9 yards. but recently he has not been eating, he is usually very hungry, and he is more aggressive, I took him to a vet, over an hour away, and he ran out of the office, took us hours to find him, he was underneath a cross at the vet, Im in a extremely christian country, his eyes had a red hue. On the ride home I turned on some kendrick Lamar, and Sing About Me, Im Dying Of Thirst was playing. Stripey was on my shoulder then he jumped onto my face, I swerved and hit a tree, almost flying off a cliff, next time I saw the local scholar of christianity, I asked him about it, because both events where related to christianity, he said it couldn't be a demon because of it contact with cross was not harmful to him, He kept acting aggressive every time I tried to hold him, he kept biting my ring finger, which has a ring with a religious symbol on it of my religion(I do not want to share), then I realized he would be defensive to any religious symbol Then the hissing started, every second he lets out a little hiss and sometimes it sounds like words, I got one of those translator apps, and every language I tried said "wrong language" so it thought that was the default for when it doesn't pick up a language, then I tried Latin and it said, "surprisingly no" and I realized that it was picking up stuff the entire time, then I tried cantonese, where they are from, and it said, "I am son of rosemary, brother of Damien, I am god of the monsters" This sent chills down my spine, I has watched the Omen and Rosemary's baby with him. I looked at him horrified, he jumped at the glass and it shattered, the glass hit my body and send blood everywhere, I began to scream but I couldn't speak, there was glass in my throat he began to tail whip me, then he began to fly and levitate, I got to a hospital and got help, then went home to try to find him, I still love him, I set up a 208 liter terrarium for him he is beginning to eat again but his tail is growing longer and he always flys, at this point I give up, he is my baby, I would die for him, he is calming down but sometimes will see figures, or fires, or broken glass just some where in the house, and he constantly escapes, what should I do? Pt 1

Blood flows through the streets of our town. And it's the best thing that's ever happened to us

y7bqbd

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y7bqbd/blood_flows_through_the_streets_of_our_town_and/

My parents own this beautiful little cafe in Marville, a town that might be the blueprint for autumn coziness. Our small alleys with old cobblestone that you can feel through your shoes have all sorts of tiny shops left and right. The narrow buildings almost transport you into a medieval town. It's especially nice when you walk down in the evening hours when the sun has already set but the shops are still open. Warm lights invite you in, the smell of fresh cakes escapes from the bakeriesI couldn’t remember that the red water was blood until this morning, and you can spend hours disappearing inside the different bookstores. Things are going well for us and the people that visit, at least when you ignore the recent happenings. The latest one came today and is unexplainable to most of us. You know how old towns often still have some of the old structures in place? One leftover in Marville is the sides of the road that are slightly deeper than the rest of the street and used to flow rainwater or in the past other substances toward the drains. This morning, though the entire town, those little water streets were filled with flowing red water. Very similar to blood. Maybe it's paint, a prank with Halloween coming up. But in our town that's the least likely explanation. \-- Most things are good though. My favorite place in all of Marville is our coffee shop. My parents built it on their own, carefully choosing every single unique chair, table, and comfortable sofas. They've created playlists with music that sounds just faint enough to make you feel at home and our coffee is the absolute best. Though to be fair I might be slightly biased as I'm currently in the process of taking over the business. Standing in the warm cafe, I forced myself to forget about the blood flowing through our town. A woman in her forties, with ash blonde hair and dark blue veins on her skin, walked inside. She was wearing a long coat and boots, dressed appropriately for the grey day. “Hello.” She was new. A bunch of new people moved to our town. It was good because a lot of our old residents moved away, or passed away, after a parasite infection that plagued our town. I know, this makes our town sound even older. It's dealt with now though and I'm glad my parents decided to stay. I even skipped going to college to help them rebuild our cafe. “Hi there, what can I get you?” I asked. The woman pointed to the special board advertising the gingermen latte. That particular drink had grown immensely in popularity. The same woman had been there four times this week alone. "To-go, please. I need to drink it at home. I have a lot of work waiting for me there." I knew what she meant by work but I ignored it. We always ignore that. I smiled politely and started preparing the espresso and the milk foam. But the most important ingredient of course is the spice mix. While we prepare almost everything ourselves here, the mix we get shipped from a place not too far from here. Our new neighbor Mr. Eli hooked my parents up with it, apparently, he used to work over there. "There you go," I put the to-go cup on the counter and the lady smiled. I'd been practicing with foam images and recently learned how to do a little tree. She sniffed the coffee and her smile grew all over her face. Then she mumbled something which almost sounded as if she said "smell just like death." She left a generous tip, with some odd stains on the paper, and left. \-- The last person coming in that day was Noor, Mr. Eli's oldest daughter. "Hey, Logan. One, please." It was always the same order. "For your dad, right?" She nodded. "Good." Her eyes wandered around the room. "You know I'm closing in half an hour anyway, I can take the coffee to your dad if you like?" I knew that Noor only came by to get her dad's coffee and then she'd spend the rest of the afternoon somewhere else. She shook her head. "Thanks but he wants it now," she smiled but it felt forced. I put the cup on the counter and she circled her hand around it. "You know my dad said the coffee is so good I should try it sometime." I swallowed. "You've had coffee here before," I answered. "But not this one." Noor wasn't like most people that moved here. Maybe because she was still young. Only a year older than me. "You know I almost tried it once. I was just curious why everyone liked it so much. My mum basically slapped it out of my hand. Some things are just better if they stay hypothetical, right?" I asked. She nodded. "See you, Logan." \-- When I walked back home I saw someone in my neighbor's window. When I squinched my eyes I realized it was our mailman. He was really nice, always smiling and chit-chatting when he brought the mail. He was quite new as well. When he noticed me he waved. He was smiling though it looked different now. Almost as if he was scared of something. I watched for a moment but he never stopped waving so eventually I decided to walk a bit closer. As I got to the window there was a loud thump. The face of the mailman had crashed into the glass. Figuring he just had a stroke or something similar I ran for the front door which conveniently unlocked. I found him in the living room, his body was moving but he didn't react to anything I said. At the back of his head was a wound, as if someone had hit him. Blood was slowly pouring out. I stepped back, I knew I needed to get out but my body felt frozen. Then I saw how he slowly turned around. His face was in shambles, bits hanging off like playdough with pieces of glass stuck in it. "Fuck," I whispered. Seemingly out of nowhere, Mr. Eli showed up with a big knife that he rammed into the torso of the mailman. "Logan, hello. Delicious coffee you made today. Really, marvelous." My entire body started shaking. "You alright, boy?" He asked. "Is this the first time you've seen this happening?" "I-I'm not sure," I muttered. "I think so. Sometimes I forget." I sat down on the sofa, thoughts racing through my mind. "Young man, real people usually stop smiling when they're almost dead and their face is falling apart." I took a deep breath. *Right*. "He wasn't real," I mumbled. Mr. Eli sat down next to me. I know I should have been afraid of him, I mean in some ways I was but I knew that he'd never touch me. "Oh, he was real. Just not a regular human." "Fuck, I liked him." Mr. Eli shrugged. "He probably would have murdered you and your entire family in your sleep if he felt like it. And I'd have to find a new barista." My heart was still racing. Deep down I knew that Mr. Eli and the other new visitors wouldn't hurt any of us. They only kill those parasites, like the mailman. The ones that come to visit our town, copy our mannerisms and looks. They were a real plague and almost rotted us out until our new visitors came along. I don't know what it is about that drink, Noor once said it had something to do with the cinnamon. But whenever they take a sip, they get into a murderous lust. And we have an agreement that they don't touch any of us. An agreement they are keeping so far. And they fit in here. Whenever they're not murdering, they love shopping and enjoying everything we have to offer. Where they came from they didn't have those opportunities. Noor said they weren't even allowed to leave the town until. Now a select few of them have settled with us. And ever since Marville is doing incredibly well. I was happy, we all were. I tried to remind myself of that as I helped Mr. Eli carries the dead body to the marketplace. That's where they stack them up after each day. The marketplace is high up and when it rains the blood flows through the entire town but as I said, we've seen worse in the past. Mr. Eli hummed happily as he threw the mailmen on top of the other people who weren't real humans. I'm not sure when I got used to a life like this but I must love living here if I stay despite these images. Although sometimes a weird thought creeps into my mind and I wonder if we really did choose to stay voluntarily. Only this morning I couldn’t even remember that [the red water was blood.](https://www.reddit.com/r/Likeeyedid/)

I'm a patient at The Neverwood Facility For Young Monsters. Last night, my therapist asked me to tell her the story behind my creation. I told her this:

y7g4vi

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y7g4vi/im_a_patient_at_the_neverwood_facility_for_young/

There are several rules I have to follow inside The Neverwood Facility For Young Monsters, or I will be executed on the spot. Here is a copy of the list I have on my wall: 1)  I must eat all human food on my plate inside the cafeteria (including my vegetables) or I am not allowed inside the feeding room. 2) I must attend group therapy every day at the allocated time or forfeit meals for a week. 3) I must attend one-to-one sessions with my therapist. 4) I must not bite, eat, drain the soul or kill my therapist. 5) I must not ask my therapist private questions such as: “Do my remaining family think I’m dead?” or “Did you catch our creator yet?” 6) I must not leave my cell under any circumstances or risk being executed or forcibly restrained by awaiting guards. 7) I must be polite to my fellow patients. 8) I must not start fights with my fellow patients. 9)  I must not look in reflective surfaces. If I do, I forfeit luxuries such as internet usage and access inside the feeding room. 10) I must not engage in conversation with CELL NUMBER 405 also Frankie. He is still considered a CODE BLACK. 11) If I am to let go of my humanity and embrace the full shift, I have consented to be executed immediately. 12) I must not make contact with my creator. ... I woke up suffocating. Entangled. In my mind, I was both nothing and nobody. Thoughts disjointed. I couldn’t think. When I tried, there was nothing but blur and confusion, and a vague sense of dread creeping up on me. I felt nothing but… cold. Heavy. Like there was something on my chest squeezing the air from my lungs while ice seeped into bones I couldn’t even feel. Limbs which felt wrong. It was so fucking cold. I was so cold, but I couldn’t understand why. My body was cold, my brain. My thoughts.  It took me a while to gather myself, but even that wasn’t enough. I was surrounded by white when I managed to pry my eyes open. Sterile white. My head was against icy porcelain. Bathtub. The word trickled ever so slowly into my sticky-syrup brain. I was in a bathtub. But there was no water. Instead of water, I was enveloped in something slithery and warm. I could feel it wet against my own body. I was covered in it, painted in this thing which was more physical than water but was still managing to pull me under like a vicious current. Drowning me. When my brain started to kick into gear, I became more aware of my surroundings as choking fog started to clear. I already had an inkling what it was that I was drowning in when I woke up, but I didn’t even want to entertain the thought. Now my eyes were open, and I was seeing blurs of something covering me, piled on top of me, masses of unmoving grey lying on my chest—I realised what it was I was submerged in. I tried to move, tried to open my mouth to scream, but they were crushing my lungs. I couldn’t move.  My body was a dead weight. Panic struck. It was cruel and cutting, forcing my body into some kind of reaction. But I was paralysed. “I can’t move.” I heard my voice but it was an echo, and I was struck with the overwhelming sense of Déjà vu. This had happened before. I’d already experienced all of these feelings, all of this panic eating me up, this pain slicing into me like knives. “I… I can’t move.” I say it again, louder. “What can you see, Ren?” My therapist’s voice cuts through the memory, and it’s comforting enough to use as an anchor. I held onto it with everything I had. “I can see… white.” I whispered, trying to stay calm. “I can see white, and I can’t… I can’t move.” I knew what I couldn’t do. I couldn’t look down at myself. I couldn’t look at reflective surfaces—and most importantly… no matter how strong the urge was, I couldn’t look for her. Because I knew where she was. I knew what she was. I had already been in that bathtub. I had already suffocated in slithering masses of weight trying to plunge me into the dark. It was supposed to be hypnotherapy, a way to travel back to the root of my trauma and explore it. Relive it. Try and overcome it. But the deeper I had slipped inside my own mind, old thoughts were blossoming back into fruition. Human thoughts. Human emotions. I had to find her. As soon as the thought entered my mind, I was already searching through blinding white. I was trying to heave my unresponsive body through the masses of something suffocating me, trying and failing to push down a feeling which was slowly taking me over, creeping inside every piece of me and bleeding into my brain. Every instinct I had was fighting to recoil back from the memory, but I held on, forcing myself further inside my past selves’ thoughts and feelings which already slamming into me like waves. I already knew. Part of me knew where she was—and yet I was still looking for her. “Ren, I thought I was very clear,” My therapist’s voice hardened. “Do not look down at yourself. I want you to focus on your surroundings and four senses. What do you see, hmm? You told me you see white. Can you see beyond that? How about feeling? Can you hear anything?” Her words were like a whisper in the wind in my hurricane thoughts. “But… my arm.” I couldn’t resist spluttering the words out in a choked cry. “I have to.. I have to see…” I have to see if it’s real, I thought. If what I saw way back then was real—and if it was.. could I stop it? Could I stop it from happening? “Focus.” My therapist said. “Tell me about what you can see. Just start small,” her tone softened. “Come on, sweetheart. You can do this.” Swallowing down  a cry clawing at my throat, I pushed myself to keep going. “I’m in a bathroom.” I managed to choke out. “A bathroom, hmm? And do you know this bathroom? Does it have meaning to you?” Looking past what it was I was buried in, my gaze flicked to white tiles where cringy feel good quotes were stuck to the wall. I glimpsed a rubber duck sitting on the edge of the tub, tiny bottles of shampoo and shower gel, a bright pink hair scrunchie wrapped around the silver tap. When I tried to move my body, to lean forward and grab the scrunchie, I couldn’t. I was still drowning. I was still suffocating in… in them. I could feel my eyes stinging, a sob heaving in my chest and building in my throat threatening to rip from my teeth. “It’s… it’s home.” “Your parents’ home?” “I don’t have any parents.” I gritted out. “Then what does this home mean to you? Is it a sense of independence without parental figures?” “No.” I said, “It’s… just home. I feel safe here. I have people I care about here.” She hummed, and I could feel her fingers loosening the velcro straps pinning me down. In the real world, I was inside a room with four grey walls, a blinding light shining down on my face as I lay on a metal slab like a piece of meat ready for slaughter. I would have preferred it if I was going to die. At least I wouldn’t have to live through this again. Slowly, splinters of real life started to come through. I could sense my bed reclining, and the low hum of the machine taking readings of my brain. If I fully concentrated, I was able to feel both reality and memory at the same time. I could feel the ice cold porcelain of the bathtub in my memory, as well as the strange metallic headset which had been placed on top of my head in reality.  My therapist was one of the nicer humans who came to visit. I liked to think she actually had empathy outside of her professional façade. Though maybe I was just naïve and craved someone I could actually talk to. Holding my breath, I didn’t think about the velcro strapping me down, or the uncomfortable device digging into the back of my skull. I concentrated on the memory. But doing so only plunged me deeper inside. I was paralysed. I couldn’t fucking move and no matter what I did, I couldn’t force my body into fruition.  A sudden sharp knock on the door jolted my body against the restraints, and several different gloved hands were suddenly holding me down. They wanted to me to see it all again. I was told it would just be the start—it would just be before I opened the door. Before I saw him.  I shook my head rapidly, my lips moving but no sound coming out. I want to stop, I thought hysterically. I want to stop. I want to stop! My therapist’s hands were stroking the back of my head. She was firm, tightening the screw holding the headset in place. A muffled cry outside the door in the memory sent icy slithers down my spine, and I felt three separate pairs of hands struggling to pin me down in sputters of reality bleeding inside me. “Ren? Dude, let me in! Are you in there?!” Another knock. This time I felt it reverberating in my bones. BANG. BANG. BANG. Wood splintered. “Ren! Open the door!” His voice was so familiar. I felt my head sliding on cold porcelain, lazy eyes flicking to the door. “I can hear Johnny.” I said through panicked breaths, my body stiffening under the bindings. “I can hear him… he’s trying… he’s trying to get in.” “Ren, I want you to stay calm, okay? It’s not real. It’s just a memory—" Johnny’s voice enveloped the rest of her soothing murmur. “Please! I think there’s something wrong with me! I can’t… I can’t think straight! There’s something going on downstairs!” BANG. BANG. BANG. Johnny’s voice morphed into an animalistic hiss. “…He’s gone mad, Ren. Do you fucking hear me? He’s gone mad!” The door was almost off its hinges, and something inside me snapped. I felt my body writhing, my lips curling into a feral snarl. Whatever had been holding me back, stopping me from smelling them—smelling that aroma which drove me fucking insane, came apart. I’ve heard of special spray the human’s douse themselves in before they come near us. It dulls their scent  usually, but this time the spray must have worn off. Sucking in deep breathe of air as I struggled to claw my way through a brewing panic attack, I got a whiff of it straight away. It was like cocaine and heroin mixed together, an intoxicating mix in the air which sent my brain into overdrive. I could sense it suddenly. It was everywhere. I could smell coffee on their breath, spatters of lunch and cigarettes and sex dripping from them. Bringing it all together was petrichor which must have come in stuck to the bottom of their shoes and fibres of clothing. The smell of the air before rainfall. The smell of home before the storm. It was everything I used to have. It was life, the smell of the outside and humanity, stuck to them.  All of it hitting me at once was enough to pull me from my memory. When my physical self sat up, and I was ripped from my own mind, I was blinking at three shadows staring down at me. I was panting, choking on my own breaths. I was well aware of my stance, my fingernails scratching the table, my teeth on wicked display. Basking in sickly pale light, the shadow’s looming over me looked startled. Their eyes were frightened. I’d torn out of my restraints. Just a glance to the left, and I’d ripped through velcro designed me hold me down. My therapist was among the shadows. Instead of getting angry, her eyes were sincere. I wondered if she was smiling under her mask. “You’re doing so well, Ren.” My therapist said, her voice muffled. I relaxed under her gentle touch, pushing me back onto the bed. “Just a little more, okay?” Her words were breathy, panicky, as she redid my restraints and hastily fixed the headset back in place.  She was scared of me. They were all scared of me. Blinking into intense white light, I felt exposed under their eyes. I felt disgusting. Inhuman. They stunk, and I hated that they smelled of everything I wanted back. Some shadows left the room while others stayed with their arms folded, staring at me like I was a lab experiment. “You’re okay.” I didn’t know my therapist’s name, though her official name was Doctor Malia. Her voice was soothing as I slowly sunk back into the memory. “We’re going to try one more time, okay? I want you to tell me how you’re feeling. Then we will stop the exercise.” Johnny’s cries grew muffled like he was shouting into a void. The door continued to tremble, and I felt myself slip further into the tub. “I’m suffocating,” I said through sharp heavy breaths teetering on the edge of hysteria. And I was. I was slipping deeper and deeper into masses of ripped clothing and slimy skin which had been dead for hours. Days. Maybe weeks. Severed limbs and heads with no torso’s. I was somehow alive, and they were dead. “That is a well-known side effect among Newborns,” Doctor Malia said. “It’s an incredibly overwhelming experience.” “No, I mean I’m suffocating.” I hissed out, trying to force myself from the pile and breathe real air. “I can’t… I can’t breathe.” “Is it water? Is the tub filling up?” I was sure she could see everything I could through the device. Her question was pushing me to accept my surroundings. My eyes snapped to the writing on the wall, smears of scarlet my brain couldn’t untangle into cohesive words. “No,” I forced the words out. “It’s not water.” “Then what is it, Ren?” I had to think about my answer for a second. What was I drowning in? Slimy skin pressed to my own, clothes drenched in sharp, intense red and hair tickling my neck from dozens of decapitated heads. “Flesh.” I said, my voice rising. “I’m…. I’m suffocating… in flesh.” “Keep going.” Her tone was pushing me further over the edge. “Who are they, Ren?” “Them.” I spluttered. “I’m covered in them. I’m drowning… I’m fucking drowning in them!” For a moment, I was neither in memory nor reality. I was somewhere else entirely. I saw slivers of silver descending down on me, razor sharp edges slicing into my flesh. I was screaming. Before the blades cut through my vocal chords. Zigzagging sparks showering the air was the last thing I saw before I yanked myself from whatever that was. Something warm ran from my nose, tainting my lips and dribbling down my chin. Doctor Malia felt close. Her breath tickled my cheeks. “Can you explain to me what you’re seeing, honey?” “Doctor Malia, the patient is experiencing pressure on the brain,” a far away voice murmured. “I’m aware of that,” she hissed back. “Keep going. We can go deeper. Come on, Ren. This is further when we’ve ever gotten!” I coughed this time, rivulets of something wetting my lips. “Let me go.” I pulled on my restraints. “I want to stop. Now.” “Push through it.” Doctor Malia ordered. I could hear her murmuring to orderlies, but their voices were entangled. “Take me back to the beginning.” She said, when a dull pain arched its way across the back of my head. “Doctor Malia, if the body is showing signs of rejection—” She cut the orderly off. “He’s fine!” And then to me, “You’ve gotten this far. Now explore what you’ve been afraid to accept.” My response was a moan. “No…” I tossed back and forth on the bed trying to shake off the device which was glued to my head. But despite my protests, I was already falling. Plunging. Deep, deep, down. Reality was slipping away, along with Doctor Malia’s voice and my own writhing limbs rejecting the memory dive. “Ren?” Johnny’s muffled cries were back, but they were getting louder and louder until it felt like he was screaming into my ear. “Please let me in. I’m so… I’m so hungry,” He was crying, his words disjointed, but something feral, something monstrous was brewing. “I think I hurt Mina. I mean, I did. I fucking killed her.” A hand slick scarlet pulverised splintered wood. His hysterical laugh vibrated with the door as he forced his weight into it. “I killed her!” He wailed, his hand snaking through the gap. “I killed her, and she’s just down the hall, Ren! She’s waiting for you!” When the door was knocked off its hinges, my brain detached itself from the memory and bled into another. Johnny’s voice followed like a parasite. Until it wasn’t just in my head. It wasn’t just a memory. He was there. Right in front of me. I wasn’t in a bathtub anymore. I was in our kitchen. I came to at the back end of a Panic! At The Disco song playing on the Alexa. Johnny, a fellow resident of Shelley House was sitting in front of me typing on his laptop with one hand and stuffing himself with pizza with the other. It was hard to miss him. How could I not see that annoyingly bright red hair poking from his ratty baseball cap? His college letterman hangs awkwardly off one shoulder.  Johnny’s gaze was still on the screen as he typed manically. Probably an essay he’d forgotten to write. “I said,” Johnny spoke through a mouthful of tomato and cheese mush, shooting me a look over his MacBook, “It’s vegan. Like, actual vegan pizza.” He held the pizza like it was a lab specimen, pointing at its base. “See? Even the peperoni.” I grabbed a slice and took a bite. Huh. It didn’t taste like pizza, per say. But it was good enough. “Is this from the health food store?”  Taking another bite, I savoured fake string cheese which actually tasted like cheese. “Nah, it’s Pizza Hut.” Johnny dangled another slice in my face. “It’s good, right? I didn’t think I could go vegan but now I’m considering it.” I shrugged, swallowing another bite.  “Isn’t the food pricey? It’s like three bucks for oat milk.” Johnny turned back to his laptop screen. “I guess? But so is vegetarian food, and I’ve survived.” “Why did you go vegetarian again?” Mina, housemate number two, sat next to him with her head buried in her arms. Johnny settled her with his usual teasing smirk. “I’ve been a vegetarian since I was fourteen. Why are you asking me now?” Helping myself to another slice of pizza, I nodded, trying to avoid looking at my phone which was yet to light up with a notification. Lizbeth was in class, I knew that. It was our final year and things were crazy but she hadn’t responded since this morning. Still though, I wasn’t overly worried. She had a habit of turning off her phone and ignoring it for work. I just told myself to stop being paranoid. "I second that.” Mina didn’t lift her head. “Because I’m bored,” she mumbled into the table. “And I know once you start talking you won’t shut up.” Johnny shrugged. “I like animals.” She made a scoffing noise. “Weren’t you manically laughing at some YouTuber killing horses in a Skyrim mod a few days ago?” He rolled his eyes. “That’s Skyrim! Of course I’m going to laugh at it.” When Mina finally lifted her head, the girl looked half dead. Her dark blonde hair was a mess of curls and she looked like she hadn’t slept in… ever. She leaned close to Johnny, so uncomfortably close he inched away from her with wide eyes. Mina was scary when she hadn’t slept. “You were scarred for life by one of those documentaries we were all shown as kids. I had a kid in my class who fainted halfway through.” Mina sat up straight and held up a finger. “Exhibit A: Your great aunt was a meat eater when she came to visit before summer.” Johnny cocked a brow. “Wait, what is this, Sherlock Holmes?” She ignored him. And I was all for their little argument. That was what the kitchen was for after all. Mina held up a second finger. “Exhibit B: In your kid photos on your aunt’s Facebook, specifically one from when you were sixteen, you are eating a chilli dog at her summer BBQ.” Johnny looked… impressed. Maybe a little scared. He turned to her with wide eyes. “Wait, you have my great aunt on Facebook?” “Everyone does!” Mina’s lips broke out into a smile, “At this point you’re like our brother.” “Brother?” I caught her words. “Wouldn’t that be…” Mina grabbed the closest thing to her and held it up like a weapon. A towel. “Finish that sentence and you’re dead.” As usual, Johnny hadn’t gotten my joke. I think he was still trying to process that Mina had his great aunt on Facebook. “I’m one year younger!” He was starting to get pissed. Not proper pissed. Johnny pissed. Which was smiling way more than usual, his voice going a few octaves higher. When Mina burst out laughing, he shoved her playfully with a scowl. “Fine. You win. I watched Cowspiracy.” Mina pulled a face. “Urgh. The worst one.” I shot her a look. “I’m sorry, are you saying there are good documentaries about animal slaughter?” “Informative and depressing? Yes.” Mina stood up, strode towards the refrigerator and pulled out a soda. “Good? I’m going to say no. Unless you like gore.” “Speaking of gore,” Johnny finished up the pizza and shut his laptop lid, leaning his chin on his fist. “Where’s the Halloween committee? I thought we were having our annual party.” “Halloween committee.” I repeated in a scoff. My phone lit up and my heart did a leap. But it was just Uber Eats spam. “You mean Frankie.” I noticed a tinge of red blossoming across his cheeks. “He asked me to help him grab decorations from Target this morning, but I said I was busy.” “Busy.” Mina rolled her eyes. “On a Saturday.” Yeah, I found that hard to believe. Especially when Johnny’s idea of “busy” was playing GTA until 4am. It had been a week. One week since the two had drunkenly slept with Mina, the three of them in a strange threesome sandwich, and not one of them wanted to talk about it. Every time I tried to bring it up with them, they acted as maturely as 24 year olds would act. They stuck their fingers in their ears and walked away, sometimes yelling LALALALALALAALA I’M NOT LISTENINGGGGGG. Like we were in fifth grade. All three of them drove me crazy and  had done since I moved into Shelly House during my freshman year of college. It wasn’t quite college dorms.  It was the cheaper option, a boarding house on the edge of campus which we had collectively bought off of the owner. It was a halfway house of sorts, for kids (or adults) who weren’t quite sure what the fuck they were doing with their lives. Shelley House was a Victorian wet dream. It was kind of rundown and the walls were covered in mould, the shower didn’t work and we had a yearly infestation of rats every Fall—but it was our home. Johnny and Frankie had a thing a few months back, followed by Mina and Johnny, and then Frankie and Mina. In the end, I guess they said fuck it and went poly. But nothing had really happened since that night except awkward conversation which was hard to endure and the three of them being both stubborn as well as collectively sharing one—no, half a brain cell. I got it. Friends becoming something else was definitely weird, but it’s not like I hadn’t caught onto the fact that Johnny and Mina were in love with Frankie. And vice versa, I guessed. Johnny was quick to cut into the awkward silence. “I probably should have helped him.” “Well, yeah.” Mina  plonked herself back at the table, Coke in hand, nursing the can. “He’s the only one who actually wants to do the whole party thing this year. Because it’s Frankie. And Frankie will literally do anything to avoid doing actual work, while he still gets amazing grades,” Mina caught herself. “That’s not the point, however. As much as I want to rant about how much I think the man is actually blessed by an angel, I’m not too sure about a party this year.” She took a hesitant sip, savouring the drink. “Aren’t we a little old? Freshman throw them.” “Hey, mid-twenties is still young.” Johnny leaned back in his chair. “Twenty five is the best age to be immortal.” Mina choked on her soda. “You’re confusing 25 with 21, idiot.” she shot him a grin. “You know, Forever Twenty one? It’s literally a store.” “The desired age has moved over the years.” Johnny said. Leaning further back in his chair, he almost tumbled over. I caught the moment of panic flash in his eyes when he realised he’d swung too hard. “Twenty one is the new eighteen. Everyone knows that. Twenty five is true alpha age. Everyone wants to be 25. It’s where you can still be lost even as an adult and folks can’t get on your ass about having no life.” I threw our youngest housemate a look. “Sounds like you’re desperately trying to convince yourself you still have your youth, man.” Johnny threw a piece of pepperoni at me. “I do have my youth!” Johnny and Mina’s back and forth carried on while I scanned my phone notifications for a text from Lizbeth. Still nothing. I was considering ringing her when the floor flew open, and in stumbled my third and final Shelly housemate. Frankie. Who was weighed down with three bags he was struggling to keep from slipping from his grasp before he finally caved and dropped them onto the kitchen floor. The guy was out of breath, panting, seemingly trying to coerce words and failing before he grabbed a lukewarm beer from the countertop, cracked it open and took a long swig. I could see what the other two saw in Frankie. Dark brown curls pinned back with a pair of raybans, a strong jawline and glittering eyes. He was the human embodiment of a golden retriever.  Frankie was already in his costume. I was still trying to figure out what it was, a wonky headband with a bright green triangle attached to it. “Yeah, don’t help me or anything! I’m good!” he said sarcastically. His British accent was refreshing in a room full of Americans. But his tone didn’t match the stupid grin on his face which I swore was permanent. Frankie was smiling until his gaze found the dirty plates piled in the sink. I had meant to wash them up earlier, I just forgot. “Ren, dude.” Frankie groaned. “You were supposed to wash the dishes!” “I’ll do them later.” I said, more interested in the bags. The others were already delving into them, getting tangled in fake spiderwebs. "Are these Halloween decorations?" Johnny pulled out a scream mask with mishappen eyes. "Yep!" Frankie folded his arms like a proud father. "But these..." Mina picked up a pair of gummy fangs and tossed them to Johnny who struggled to lodge them into his mouth. "This is what you got?" Frankie scowled. "I'm sorry, did you drive halfway across town with a bust radio only for the Halloween section at Target to be empty? This is all they had. The rest I grabbed from a store just down the road. Howard Jekyll, or something like that. The dude had some cool shit.” Amongst badly made masks and glowing silly string, there were several stick-on posters each with a cringey quote. I held up one with, ‘LAB EXPERIMENTS IN PROGRESS! I MUST MAKE THE PERFECT HUMAN.’ In spooky red letters. “You’ve outdone yourself,” I chuckled. “This is scary. Like, people are going to shit their pants when they see this.” Frankie shrugged. “They’re just for added dec. I figured they’d spice up the place a little,” he lips curved. “Ironically, of course.” “I think they’re cute.” Mina was smiling at the other posters, flipping through them. I saw one for a mummy, a vampire, and a crime scene. “Cute?” Johnny spat out the gummy fangs. We’re going to be laughed at!” “Shh.” Mina held them up. “We can put these around the house! It’ll be like a spooky quote people can read before they enter a room,” she jumped to her feet with way too much energy. “I’m going to try find a costume. I should have something black. Oooh, should I be a ghost?” Turning to Frankie, Mina poked his headband. “What are you supposed to be again?” “A Sim.” He flicked the green triangle. “For the lack of effort I put into it, I think it’s awesome.” “What is this supposed to be?” Johnny held up a poster and prodded the monster's face. “That’s not a vampire.” “Then what is it?” Mina challenged. “I don’t know! But look at the marks on its face! What even is that?” “Fascinating!” Frankie pulled the poster off him. “We should probably get ready for this party." When the others started to decorate the house, I made my way up to my room. Lizbeth had texted me saying she was arriving in around an hour, so I hurried to wash up and pull on a decent shirt.  I was standing in front of my mirror frowning at my reflection and trying to tame my hair before everything turned… cold. It started like a bad feeling creeping up my spine, dread curling in gut—but expanded to my chest and throat. I couldn’t breathe suddenly. When I tried to, sucking in sharp breaths, the air was turning white in front of me. I was paralysed suddenly, my body stiff while my brain knocked around in my skull. Something was in the around me. I could see it at the corner of my eye seeping through the gap in my door; a dull green mist-like fog growing thicker before darkness swallowed me up and I plunged deep down. During my unravelling, I awoke twice. Once, right before my first death—and then again. In the bathtub. The first time was… strange. I felt weirdly giddy like I was hopped up on drugs. I woke to the sound of grinding blades inches from my face and singing. Loud singing. Hysterical singing. Screaming. Screams like I’d never heard before.  Agonising wails I wanted to block out as soon as they slithered into my skull when I slipped back into consciousness. I was aware of two things when I struggled to take in my surroundings. The figure looming over me was someone I knew, someone I cared about—and that figure was painted in red. Like he was its canvas, like he spoke for the colour. It wasn’t just him. Everything was blurred and strange and foggy, and definitely bloody. It dripped from the walls, from our kitchen table I was lying on. Even the ceiling. There was something… very wrong with our kitchen.  There was too much silver where there was supposed to be rustic wallpaper. Supposed to be Johnny’s drink’s cabinet, our bookcase full of classics we never read, and board games. Instead, I was seeing… metal. It was everywhere, like the room had been converted into something horrific, something from my nightmares. My capturers face was a blur in my mind. Maybe I already knew it but I was in denial. The looming figure was the one singing, the one laughing and dancing, twirling around, snatching up masses of flesh with fingers which were still twitching, eyes which still blinked, and throwing them onto the table. I wasn’t tied down. But I didn’t have to be. The spinning wheel of silver blades hanging inches from my face was enough to stiffen me in place and choke the cry building in my throat as the shadow leaned in close. In his hand was a sharpie. And with a grin stretched across his lips and a sparkle in his eye, he began to mark something across my forehead, and then right into my hairline. Where were the screams coming from? Was the only thought dominating my brain, as the figure above me traced his finger across the markings on my forehead. They were everywhere. They were behind me, in front of me, to my left and right. Up above and down below. They were in the walls, crying, screeching, wailing with the type of pain I didn’t understand. But when I did manage to catch sight of something, a writhing mass of flesh to my right, a pile of bodies stacked high with party guests whose parts had been mixed and matched, stitched and cut and patched together like they were dolls. But their heads, whether they were connected to a torso or not, were still screaming. Something sparked in the air above me. I could see it, sharp rivulets of electricity flickering to life. I didn’t have time to see what it was, to understand. Because my capturer’s laugh was growing more and more hysterical, and he was muttering to himself, giggling, his hands wet and warm grazing my cheeks and face—before the spinning blades started again. This time they didn’t just spin, transfixing me with how fast they were, the silver began to descend, cruel, cutting blades getting closer and closer until they were grazing the flesh of my neck. I remember crying out. Before his hands were appearing wielding instruments with edges like carving knives. He didn’t cut with them, instead using them to guide the spinning blades. When they touched down, I was already dead. It happened in the blink of an eye. One minute I was staring up at a monstrous machine primed to disembowel me, and then my world went silent.  The horrific grinding sound of the spinning blades, and the guy’s laughing.  Everything stopped.  A nightmare. That was what my first thought. My eyes flickered open. For a moment, I didn’t think about the flesh suffocating me. I didn’t think about headless bodies and wrangled guts spilled out around me, a wave of red lapping my knees. Instead, my gaze flashed downwards. The first thing I saw were stars. I was seeing stars speckled across an arm which was attached to me, wedged against the side of the tub. I knew those stars. I had been there when she’d gotten them, when she had hauled herself onto the chair with a bright smile, chewing her lip and tapping her feet and insisting that she was totally not scared of needles.  Constellations. Lizbeth wanted a sleeve of them dotting her skin and marking our relationship like it was some star crossed lovers shit. It didn’t make sense to me why Lizbeth’s tattoo’s were on my arm. When I realised I could move my body a little, I held it up and waved the arm. It was definitely mine. I could move it. I could scrunch up my fingers and make a fist. So, how did I have my girlfriend’s tattoo?   “Ren?” Johnny’s voice made me jump. My mouth wouldn’t sound out words properly, my voice barely a hiss. It sounded more like, "Jornnnnathooonnnn?" …”He’s gone mad, Ren! Do you fucking hear me? He’s gone mad!” It was then when I noticed the writing on the wall in startling claret: BAD BATCH (NUMBER 2) FAILURES. That was what the people were—the people entangled with me. Heads and torso’s, arms and legs. They were failures. Struggling through the masses of flesh, I tried to haul myself from the tub. “Please let me in,” he whispered. “I’m so hungry. I think I hurt Mina. I mean, I know I did. I fucking killed her.” His hysterical laugh vibrated with the door as he forced his weight into it. “I killed her!” He wailed, his hand snaking through the gap. “I killed her, and she’s just down the hall, Ren! She’s waiting for you!” When the door flew off its hinges, I managed to pull myself out of the tub before Johnny could force his way in. But he didn’t have to. Footsteps. The door, while being completely broken off its hinge thankfully still blocked the archway. “Fran?” Johnny’s voice became a snarl. I could sense razor sharp teeth. “Fran, what the fuck?” The footsteps thudded closer before the cracking sound so horrific I had to plant my hands over my ears. Johnny’s body dropped to the ground. I didn’t see it but I heard it. When I risked a peek through the door, I saw a blur of mismatched flesh and patchwork body parts. Like a doll, but it wasn’t different clothes I was seeing. I was seeing different patches of skin. Light, dark, tanned and pasty white. I saw different eyes forced into sockets and ugly stitches rutted across what was left my housemate’s neck. Nothing I could see Frankie, except maybe his torso and parts of his head. Everything else had been replaced. His right eye was backwards, the pupil zeroing in on me while his left eye was looking a whole different direction. In his arms, bridle style, was Johnny. Who was yet to be disremembered and put back together again. Though there was a glaring difference in my friend hanging from Frankie’s arms. Johnny’s face was covered in strange vine like black markings, like something was writhing in his blood, spiderwebbing across his cheeks and forehead. It reminded me of something. I’d seen it before, and it was driving me mad. Frankie paid no attention to me. He turned around with Johnny dangling in his arms and walked back down the hallway. I thought about following him before steeling myself.  I had to get downstairs and get the cops. I waited until he’d carried Johnny downstairs before forcing myself into a power-walk—but the closer I was getting to the kitchen, I could hear that noise again. Grinding blades. Strangled screams. I was grabbing the handle of the kitchen door when I noticed the  Halloween poster from earlier. Frankie had taped it to the door. LAB EXPERIMENTS IN PROGRESS! I MUST MAKE THE PERFECT HUMAN. And then I remembered the posters on the other’s doors. Johnny’s face, those markings under his eyes. His strength when he forced himself through the bathroom door. Something warm was slithering up my throat, but I was already doing what I wasn’t allowed to do. What I had promised myself not to do under any circumstances. Because I already knew once waking up. Once seeing Lizbeth’s tattoos covering my arm, the beginning of our relationship marked in constellations spanning across her upper arm and shoulder. When I pulled back a shirt sleeve which wasn’t mine, I was seeing Lizbeth’s tattoo. But I was also looking down at my own body, at how my leg looked odd next to my other one, and my stomach was a lot rounder than I remembered. When I clawed at my hair, most of it was gone, a large bald patch and stitches running down my hairline.  They were everywhere. Stitches. They were in my hands and on my arms and my fingers, across my gut when I lifted my shirt with trembling fingers. My skin was thousands of shades, like had sliced me up and taken care of each piece, stitching me back together. I wasn’t just Lizbeth. I was a piece of every person which made me up. I was all of them and none of me. Did any part me still exist? I got my answer when I forced my way into our kitchen which had been converted into a freakish laboratory which could only exist with some kind of inhuman force. Because there was no way Frankie could build all of this. When I stepped inside, I saw what was left of Johnny under the spinning blades. I finally understood what my housemate was trying to do. I was a failure of its practise, and it looked like Johnny would be a success. Johnny was in one piece before the world around me exploded. I remember him strapped down, struggling, snarling, pitch dark eyes brewing with something inhuman. Mina was on the pile of screaming body parts, her skin had been ripped into shreds and wrapped around her like a— Like a mummy. The perfect human’s, I thought, glimpsing pieces of my own body I recognised. When lightning struck the metal rod piercing Johnny’s body, men and women in white were suddenly pouring inside the house. Something shot Frankie, and he dropped to the ground. “Detecting high levels of G6! This place is doused in the stuff!” "Check everything. Especially Halloween decorations. That's the usual target." "Time of shift?" "Around 7 hours ago. Ten past midnight exactly. Holy fuck, we've got a bloodbath."  A woman pointed a gun at my head, her lip curling in disgust. "Mid-twenties. Hybrid of some sort. Should I shoot?" "They're all hybrids," a man grunted. "Howard Jekyll and his store have a lot to answer for. This is the second case in five years.” "Meaning? Didn't we have a deal with him?" "We did. It looks like he broke it." "Bring them in." A voice through static. "I don't care what state they're in.” "I don't think that's possible. These guys are code black hybrids. “I’m not talking vamps or wendigo’s. All of these people have been... altered." "Altered?" "Have you read Frankenstein? That seems to be the inspiration." A man had hold of Frankie. “This one needs to be sedated. Now.” Someone knelt in front of me—and I realised behind her the clock had stopped. It had stopped just after midnight. How did I never realise? "Can you tell me your name?" I thought of the tattoo on my-- no, her arm. "Elizabeth." "Okay, Elizabeth. This is going to hurt. I want you to hold your breath if you can and count to twenty. Can you do that for me?" One. Two. Three. Four. "End the shift. Do it, now. They've suffered enough." Five Six. Seven. Eight. "Are you sure?" "Yes. The longer we leave it they'll find it harder to adapt." Nine. Ten Eleven Twelve. The clock started to move again, the room filled with early morning sunlight and what I was finally hit me. Along with a sudden scolding hunger. I was a monster—a being made from patchwork flesh and discarded body parts. I stopped counting. And fucking screamed.

She said TV would rot my brain...

y7jqgb

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y7jqgb/she_said_tv_would_rot_my_brain/

We didn’t get our first TV until I was 17. My mom always said that it would rot my brain, so I grew up with books instead. I’m not holding it against her or anything. To this day I still prefer words on a page to pictures on a screen, and that’s something I’m eternally grateful for. Plus, my mom committed suicide two months after we got it, so maybe she had a point. It was one of those old school behemoths that dominated living rooms across the country in the early 2000’s. Flat screens had been out for a few years, but my mom had always been something of a luddite, so one Tuesday after school I spent my afternoon with a mover hauling this 200lb monster into the house. In the beginning, everything was fine. My mom always kept the house meticulously clean. She cleaned other people’s houses for work, and when she got home, I guess she had trouble leaving the job behind. The house always smelt like disinfectant and bleach. To this day when I smell Lysol it brings me back to being a kid doing my homework while my mom bounced from room to room armed with a spray bottle and rag. I thought it was normal growing up. I never had anyone around to tell me different. It was me, my kid brother, and my mom most of the time, so I always thought her compulsive behavior was just something moms did. But then we got the TV. There was a week or two after we first got it when I thought television was just what she needed. When she got home from work she would actually sit down and unwind. Instead of picking up her spray bottle, she would grab the remote. She’d put on some shitty daytime soap opera or the local news channel, and for a few hours she managed to turn off the part of her brain that always yelled at her to keep cleaning. Then she found the QVC channel. I think the one that set her off was the ShamWow. At least that’s the one I remember. Despite her aversion to new technology, she bought the TV with TiVo. So as soon as the ShamWow commercial ended, she would rewind it and watch it again. It didn’t get bad right away. Or at least I don’t think it did. My therapist says I subconsciously blocked out a lot of the trauma, but I think she is full of crap. In reality, I was just stoned a lot when I was in high school, so my memories from that time are a bit hazy. Anyway, the first time I remember anything being wrong was during one of our Sunday dinners. I was sitting at the table high as a kite, with a brick of meatloaf and a mountain of mashed potatoes in front of me. My mom was next to me on one side, and my six-year-old brother was on the other. A piece of meatloaf slipped off his fork and onto the table, and being six years old he reached for it to shovel it into his mouth along with the rest. My mom shrieked. There wasn’t anger in her voice, only pure, animalistic panic. I jumped up from my seat ready to fight off the intruder that I was sure had busted through our front door, but then she lunged across the table and latched onto my brother’s wrist. “Drop it,” she yelled. And again, she wasn’t mad, only scared. “Drop it right now.” Her plate fell and shattered on the floor when she lunged, but she didn’t notice or didn’t care. My brother dropped the meatloaf and started bawling his eyes out. “There are over ten million different bacteria living on every square inch of this table,” she quoted from the ShamWow commercial. “Now stop crying and go wash your hands. I don’t want you to come back to this table until every single bit of your skin is as pink and fresh as the day you were born.” He went to go wash his hands, but he didn’t stop crying. “Get between your fingers too,” she hollered at him once the sink in the bathroom started to run. She cleaned her plate off the ground, made herself a new one, and we finished eating together. That was that. It either escalated quickly after that, or my therapist was right. Regardless, I don’t remember other “minor” incidents like the one at the dinner table, only the big one. She didn’t stop watching TV after work, but she did start to clean again. Except now she did it at night. I remember lying awake at two in the morning listening to the sound of her vacuum or the slosh of water from the mop bucket. I don’t know when she slept, but I guess that stopped being important to her. She got home from work at five, watched TV till eight, made dinner for me and Rich, and then she would clean. Every night at about 4:00AM I would hear the vacuum switch off. Then she would shower and head into work until she got home at five again. She ditched the soap operas once she discovered the QVC channel and the wonders of TiVo. Now when I came home from school, I’d hear Billy May’s talking about Oxi Clean instead of Nancy Hughes professing her love to Dan McCloskey. She must’ve recorded every infomercial for cleaning products there was. ShamWow, Oxi Clean, Shark Vacuum Cleaner, you name it. She stopped asking about our days at dinner, and instead would spend the entire meal quoting commercials and rattling off statistics about how dirty the typical American household was. Again, I don’t remember too much about the days leading up to the big incident, but that final day will be burned into my memory forever. When I came home that night, I knew something was off right away. It was 5:30, but I couldn’t hear the TV. I was so used to those damn infomercials that I think I noticed the TV being off before I noticed the screams. My brother cried as much as any other kid his age, but I’d never heard him make sounds like he did that day before. I sprinted upstairs to the bathroom and froze in my tracks. Rich was in the bathtub and my mom was sitting on the lip. She was pouring water over his head like she normally would to rinse the shampoo from his hair. Except this time she was pouring from a tea kettle, and the water hissed and steamed when it made contact. Blisters covered his face and there were red blotchy patches where the skin was sloughing off. The sight of Rich in the bathtub still haunts my dreams, but worst of all was my mom. Rich was screaming and thrashing trying to escape, but over the screams I could hear my mom muttering “Dirty boy. Filthy, dirty boy” over and over again. I grabbed my brother, burning my hands in the process, and rushed him to the hospital. When the police came for my mother, they found her dead on the couch with an empty bottle of bleach by her side. I wasn’t there but I can still picture it when I close my eyes. My mom sitting in front of the TV with her glasses on. Foam and blood-stained spittle covering her face. And Billy Mays’ voice in the background telling her lifeless body “Don’t just get it clean, get it Oxi Clean.” Me and Rich moved in with my aunt in Poughkeepsie, but I got out of there as soon as I turned 18. I got a job cleaning pools, and moved into a tiny studio apartment in the same town I grew up in. I furnished it with my childhood bed, the kitchen table from our old house, and a cheap couch I found at Ikea. Oh, and the TV. A buddy of mine loaded it into his truck and helped me carry it in today. It snapped on as soon as I plugged it in, and I was greeted with “Hi it’s Vince from ShamWow.” Those infomercials actually aren’t half bad. A lot of good information. I never realized how much bacteria there really is lying around. I washed my hands before typing this, and I washed the keyboard too. But I can still feel my fingers picking up dirt with every key I touch. I’m going to wash my hands again now, but the water from my sink doesn’t get hot enough. The girl from the Bissell Power Steamer commercial says that water needs to be at least 149 degrees Fahrenheit to kill bacteria.

I found the last remnants of Huitzilopochtli's cult, and what they do is disturbing...

y7w06c

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y7w06c/i_found_the_last_remnants_of_huitzilopochtlis/

Today was a warm Sunday, the sun gleaming over the horizon, all things were waking up, the smell of flowers was amazing, and Hummingbirds flew overhead chirping along, most people in the morning get a coffee, and watch television, but for some in the woods, things were different. around 2:23 PM I went jogging along the wooden trail, either listening to music as I run, or hearing the calls of the animals. During the jog, I went off the trail unknowingly, I was listening to music at the time, not paying any mind to my surroundings. I was deep within the forest, and I heard a voice, yelling? or was it chanting? I tried to make as little noise as possible, and as I peeked from behind the trees, I heard the voice clearly now, a man who seems to be leading a ceremony, there were multiple people in a line up onto an altar. I heard the man speak " Huitzilopochtli is first in rank, no one, no one is like unto him: not vainly do I sing (his praises) coming forth in the garb of our ancestors; I shine; I glitter. He is a terror to the Mixteca; he alone destroyed the Picha-Huasteca, he conquered them. The Dart-Hurler is an example to the city, as he sets to work. He who commands in battle is called the representative of my God. When he shouts aloud, he inspires great terror, the divine hurler, the god turning himself in the combat, the divine hurler, the god turning himself in the combat. Amanteca, gather yourselves together with me in the house of war against your enemies, gather yourselves together with me. Pipiteca, gather yourselves together with me in the house of war against your enemies, gather yourselves together with me." He spoke again "For you Totec Huitzilopochtli! Hummingbird Of the South! Lord Of War! Patron Of the Mexica Tribe, and the city of Tenochtitlan! for it may have been lost, it will be returned under you might! Take these offerings as thanks, for defending our tribe from the vile Spainards! your strength knows no bounds, now feast! Hummingbird Of the South!" After his speech, ten men stepped up to the altar, and the priest took an obsidian blade, and cut open each of their bodies, taking out the still beating heart, and showing it to the heavens, the heart was tossed in a fire, and the bodies of the men were carried away. My heart felt afraid, but also exhilarated, but I pushed those feelings aside and attempted to flee, but the priest saw me. "Come here, Spainard.. for you are of our blood, and you have seen our ritual..." Two men grabbed me by my arms "You will have to join us and renounce your old faith... Do you agree?" He said, showing me the obsidian knife. I bowed out of fear, and he pronounced me a part of his tribe. He allowed me to leave, but he did tell me if I didn't return tomorrow, they will find me, and sacrifice me upon the altar, I don't know if anyone will believe me when I tell them, so I am writing here to gain advice, How do you sacrifice a man?

A familiar visit from beyond the grave.

y7pr0c

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y7pr0c/a_familiar_visit_from_beyond_the_grave/

“I’m taking him with me. I carried him for nine months. And you’re a terrible parent.” “I’ve paid the bills since day one, made sure we are comfortable, have a roof over our head. Don’t try to act like you’ve done more than me.” With my ear against my bedroom door, I listened to my parents trash each other over responsibilities. Only a child, I knew nothing of the word divorce, but we were past that point. During that fateful argument, it was just a matter of who I would be living with, my alcoholic dad or my lonely mom. “No, don’t—” I closed my eyes and covered my ears when I heard mom tumbling down the stairs. Once silence filled the air, I ran out to check on her, as dad—sweaty and shaking—stared down at her deceased body. Her head—impaled on the corner of the wooden radiator cover—looked up at us. Gripping my dad’s legs, I screamed out, “Dad, what did you do to mommy? Is she okay?” “She fell. It was an accident.” Her death was ruled an accident, but I felt conflicted, torn on what to believe. I loved my dad, but not when he was an inebriated mess that ignored me and kept me in my room while he watched his sports games. When I figured out my parents hated each other, part of me believed he may have pushed her down the stairs, but he stayed firm with his poker face. We buried mom in the cemetery next to our house. A town graveyard with hundreds of bodies was not exactly the bedroom view I wanted as a child, but knowing mom was still close by, put me at ease just a little. I’d look out the window at night and wave to her, talk to her, even though I knew she wouldn’t respond. But then she did. In the purple nightgown she wore the night of her death, I squinted and gasped when I realized she was walking towards me from the cemetery. With the right side of her face still smashed in, she looked like she only had half of a head. Her arms extended outwards in my direction, and I shuddered, hiding behind the curtain. I heard a ruckus downstairs and then the slamming of the front door. I looked back out the window and saw my dad headed to the cemetery gate holding a bucket. He went inside and approached my mom, who kept her focus on me. One by one, my dad threw rocks at my mom. He must have had a few dozen of them. She finally retreated and disappeared back into her grave. Too afraid to confront my dad, I said nothing about the incident that night, and he did the same. But then it started happening every night, right around ten at night, the time she had passed. I watched her from the window get closer and closer to the house, but dad always ran out in time to stone her. After a few weeks of this, I couldn’t stay silent any longer. I chased after my dad quietly. When mom sensed my presence behind a headstone, her body pivoted in my direction. “Son, are you out here?” my dad yelled. “He’s coming with me,” mom said in a raspy voice. “I’m bringing him with me.” “Mom!” I cried out, jumping up into view. “Cody, stay back,” my dad yelled. “You killed me, Paul. Why did you push me? Cody was my only friend.” I looked at my dad’s deer in the headlights expression. He said nothing, and then proceeded to throw the rocks at mom. Whether my presence played a role in her decision that night, I do not know, but mom shifted in the direction of my dad and wrapped her bony arms around him, smothering him. As she dragged him back to her grave, I made a run for it, out the gates and to a neighbor’s house. Pounding on the door, someone finally opened and took me in to call for help. Dad’s body was found in the same grave as moms. Ruled a suicide. But I know what I witnessed that night. And I haven’t been able to move on for the past twenty years. Because no matter where I’ve lived, I see them each night when I look through a window. Mom and dad standing outside, calling out to me, asking me to join them.

I can't keep what happened a secret anymore. The ritual we do every year protect us. Part 4

y7y1g8

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y7y1g8/i_cant_keep_what_happened_a_secret_anymore_the/

\### Link: \[Part 1\]([https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/vssyse/i\_cant\_keep\_what\_happened\_a\_secret\_anymore\_the/?utm\_source=share&utm\_medium=ios\_app&utm\_name=iossmf](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/vssyse/i_cant_keep_what_happened_a_secret_anymore_the/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf)) \### Link: \[Part 2\]([https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/vu0qzz/i\_cant\_keep\_what\_happened\_a\_secret\_anymore\_the/?utm\_source=share&utm\_medium=ios\_app&utm\_name=iossmf](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/vu0qzz/i_cant_keep_what_happened_a_secret_anymore_the/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf)) \### Link: \[Part 3\]([https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/vuwvjk/i\_cant\_keep\_what\_happened\_a\_secret\_anymore\_the/?utm\_source=share&utm\_medium=ios\_app&utm\_name=iossmf](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/vuwvjk/i_cant_keep_what_happened_a_secret_anymore_the/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf)) ​ I know… it’s been a while. Thinking about what happened in the library triggers me in such a way that it makes my brain start to… short circuit. I can’t really make sense of it all, but I need to try to tell and explain. I’m not crazy. I’m not crazy. I’m not crazy. We walked past the praying wretch. Down another corridor that seemed to disappear around us as we got further, and further away from the light of that friar’s dim candles. The area beneath the church was starting to feel much larger than it should’ve been, while feeling too closed in all at once. As an old cop, I thought that nothing could surprise me anymore… but I was wrong. Ever since that fucked up night, I’ve felt lost in the world. And the feelings of disorientation I was getting inside the catacombs reminded me of that. When the candles’ reach from that unholy shrine finally disappeared into nothingness behind us, the old man stopped walking and I heard the sound of a match. A dull glow started to seep out from the priest’s skeletal fingers, his hands looked like bones wrapped in paper as the light passed through his frail skin. Somehow, the tiny spark turned into the crackling flame of a brazer on the ground next to us. And suddenly… from what I could make out through the shadows, we were surrounded by rotting scrolls stacked up all around us. He started talking again. His voice sounding closer to death than that of life, like a man that had been lost in a desert with no water. Sounds coming from a dry place, a loud whisper of a groan that reminded me of the crumblings of dead leaves. “We are here. Blessed be the blood of the lord. Blessed be the tears of God, that we may drink and be replenished. This is the bibliotheca silentii, my son. Through these texts we have found a balance and learned the importance of silence to find God and grow in his wisdom. But… we have also found many other things—things that should never be found. Language is power and names are keys. The death of old tongues was never a mistake, but an attempt at separating our world from what was forgotten… God’s will. There is more to this world than just heaven and hell; and there is more to hell than a devil and his demons. For even the word ‘Demon’ is a lie, for if we were to speak their true names on our tongues, they would latch onto our breath, climb into our bellies and our souls would fester.” I looked around. And as my eyes slowly adjusted, I thought that I could see something else in the darkness. You know when you close your eyes after you shut all your lights off in your room at night? You see random colors floating, swirling, flashing dots flickering in and out of existence in a sea of velvet black—well, it was like that but—I could’ve sworn that these swirls were twisting into screaming faces, like the patterns weren’t so random or something. Fuck—Maybe I do need the medication. He went on. His decrepit voice echoing throughout the chamber as he slowly read through the decaying scrolls, speaking in a tongue that was foreign to me. His speech sounded like a sharp gibberish, unlike any language I’ve ever heard before… but all the words made sense still. Each syllable painfully scratching images into my imagination in the form of memories that I’ve never experienced. But could recall upon as if I’d been there anyway. My mind trapped within his grasp, being pulled into the past in order to recapture, revisit and re-experience moments long lost to the flowing currents of time. The light from the fire seemed to get sucked back into the brazer, and I was frozen. All the while, I felt like I was moving through a tunnel of inky black space. None of it made sense. Yet—all of it made sense. All of a sudden I was in the middle of a field surrounded by rows of turnips. The wind was crisp and the sky was painted in flame. Whether it was sunrise or sunset, I did not know. But the sun was low to the horizon, and an eternal sea of twilight was overhead. Beads of water covered the leaves of the plants, and the scent of men filled the air. I looked around and didn’t see another soul but couldn’t shake the feeling that I wasn’t alone. I started walking through the field, holding my arms out so that my fingers would comb though the oddly tall leaves of the turnip plants. When I put my wet hands to my face… it wasn’t the scent of fresh rain, or morning dew—but instead the smell of sweat. The eyes I was trapped behind started to close and I felt a, sick, twisted smile come into my face. But in my own mind I was disgusted. When the eyes opened again, I was in a candle lit cabin room filled with faceless women. The fronts of their heads just featureless mounds of flesh; a layer of skin moving back and forth, ballooning and deflating where their mouths should’ve been. As if they were trying to breath—but couldn’t. And they were crying. All of them, including myself, frantically carving eyes, noses and lips into dried up roots with cut up, bloody fingers. Until one of the roots bit me and I knocked over a candle. Flames quickly caught onto my thick dress and the straw beneath my feet; it was in that moment that I realized that I too was female. My body jumped up in a panic and tried desperately to put out the loose fire, but the flame continued to spread. All the faceless women around me continued to carve, even as the inferno started to consume their dresses and eventually their flesh as well. Smoke replaced the air and the lids shut themselves over my eyes tightly again, while the smell of burning human meat filled my nostrils. The sounds of crying and screaming slowly transformed into the melodies of laughter and singing. When my eyes were forced open again, I had something sweet being pushed into my mouth; while chanting and dancing around in a circle with children. All our heads covered in burlap sacks as we frolicked around a woman burning on a stake. We sang in a language foreign to me, but the lyrics seemed familiar and old to me none the less. As I tried to pay more attention to my surroundings, I noticed that I was head level with the rest of the children. And the sweets being pushed into my mouth was being helped along by a tiny hand—my own. The more we danced, the more I noticed a pattern. The steps of our feet dug a circle and star into dirt around the woman burning in agony. And we were happy. As my eyes started to close again once more, I started to peer deeper into the flames, and I could see the woman’s burning face start to crack into a smile. I could see another type of light start to dribble out from her burned, hollowed out eye sockets. An evil… yellow… light. I could see the dark bright billowing out from within her mouth—along with long, inhuman, black finger-like things reaching… clawing. Slowly bending like the limbs of a spider, grasping upon cooking human flesh. And then my eyes closed again. I woke up laying on the ground in puddle of viscous liquid. Gasping for air and choking on smoke. The old priest was standing over me, staring down at me in silence as I tried to get used to my own body again. I was back in the library. After I gained my composure, I got up off the ground. Everything was back to normal. If you could consider any of this shit normal. Or at least… I thought. The priest didn’t move. And his skin looked more like papier-mâché than it had before. At first, I wanted to punch him in the face, even though that might have killed him. Fucking old piece of shit… but the more I looked at him, the more dead he seemed to be. He was breathing, but his breaths were shallow. His eyes looked dry and stuck to his lids. And that’s when I seen it. A bug. A single insect crawled out his mouth, across his face and under his eye lid. He didn’t move. And then something else happened. I started to see the light. The light was coming from within his mouth. I immediately pulled out my sidearm and shot him in his fucking face. Fuck that. He lived a long enough life anyway. Before I knew it, I was hastily moving back out through the path that had led me into that deep, dank place. But as I put space between me and that old corpse, I could hear inhuman things—things that sounded like gasping, but from too many throats. All of them too dry. And I could see a dull yellow glow growing slowly from within the library as quickly made my way back towards the entrance. The rusty gate was wide open and no one was there. Just a bloody looking crucifix and freshly lit candles. I made my way back though the catacombs, following the flow of that putrid liquid running through the open drainage system and the illumination of my flashlight. I walked up the spiral stairs, and when I got to the top, everyone in the church was staring at me with blank faces. Some of them with open mouths. When I finally made it back outside, I saw that it was the middle of the night. I had no idea that much time had passed. But I was glad to be above ground and out of that fucked up place. After getting back to my car, I noticed some sort of pastry resting on my driver’s seat. It was a small round cake with an “X” baked into it. There was dried fruit on the top of it as well—it almost looked like flesh. I slapped it onto the wet ground on the parking lot and drove off. As I cruised down that lonely road through a valley of endless trees, I knew what I had to do next. I understood what couldn’t be described in any language that was present in the world today. I felt like I had bore witness to something long forgotten in time. I felt like I had seen Samhain—lived it… and the weakening of the veil. I felt like I had taken part in an ancient ritual. I felt like it was a part of me now. I know what I must do… I’m not crazy. To be continued…

That wasn’t my mother…

y7u89k

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y7u89k/that_wasnt_my_mother/

I was sitting in my living room one day playing my Nintendo wii. I was killing it in bowling when I heard my “mother” shout out my name.. I heard “hey can you come in here please” only she used my name and for privacy purposes I wont say it. I replied “hold on” as any other young teen would do in the middle of a game. I heard it once more again “hey can you come here” and i replied again “hold on ok mom”?… i shouted again “mom”!? Keep in mind that i was in my living room and 10 fr behind me is my parents room. My mom yelled back “what”!? But only it came from the kitchen , I asked my mom “hey did you call me and she responded with a a “no” what are you talking about. I instantly got chills due to the temperature drop and something told me not to turn around but i did anyway. I see a women no older than 35 or so with long black hair and glossy green eyes. Here head was peaking around the corner like a child playing peek a boo.. when i looked back she gave me a smile and moved her head back on the other side of the wall..Thats not even the freaky part.. she runs away and as i hear her foot steps running away i hear her say again “come in here” but followed by a laugh that sounded like a toddlers laugh with a flemmy throat. I ran into my moms room to see where she went but of course she was gone. Later that night i was woke. From a dead sleep in the corner of my room there she was again just looking at me with a blank expression. I asked “what do you want”? She just tilts her head in confusion and opens her mouth so wide and unleashed the same laugh i heard earlier that day. I stuck my head under my blanket and yelled for my parents and when my dad came in she was gone . I just told them I had a nightmare cause i didnt want to be looked at as crazy. I woke up the next morning and told them the truth. You can tell they wanted to think i was lying but it seemed like they knew something i didn’t. My mom asked me if i knew what a ouija board is.. I replied no i do not. She went on and told me all about it and how you can try and communicate with ghosts and what not and that they are bad due to the fact that they can open up portals and there is no telling what you can invite into your home. She said she caught my sister and her friend using one a couple days ago and my sister was telling my mom on and on about how she was antagonizing the spirits by calling them p***ys and saying “i bet you wont show yourself. My mom believes she may have invited in a un welcomed guest. To this day that house was never the same alot of other weird and freaking stuff continued in that house until we decided to move.

chirp

y756dx

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y756dx/chirp/

My house has very high ceilings. I was married to a wannabe interior designer. She wanted a big place to decorate and dote on, practicing her skills. It was a particularly animous divorce. We're both spiteful creatures. I kept her house in the split, and she took my daughter. Aside from the fact that I’d paid for it, I didn’t even really want the damn thing. It’s too big for me to live in by myself. People told me to get back on the market, that I was still young and deserved another chance. Fuck that. After ten miserable years and a nightmare divorce, I wasn't hopping at the chance to bring another woman into my life, even if it would fill the empty space. And christ does this place have empty spaces. The worst part is the ‘great room,’ a giant, vaulted, echoing dumpster with an overlooking balcony from the master suite. I used the balcony for my office space, when I used to go upstairs. The smoke alarm wasn't reachable from the balcony, up on the slant of the ceiling next to the skylights. When the chirping started, a soft battery alert off to my left, I remembered for the first time in years where the thing even was. And, look. I was married to my ex for a decade. I can tolerate petty annoyances. It's not something to be proud of, but it just wasn't pressing to me; I didn't want to deal with it. I only changed it the first time after my daughter came to visit. For me, it had already blended into the background, a basic part of living. It would beep every three minutes or so, not urgently but persistent. We were in the kitchen the first time it went off. She slapped her hands over her ears, and it must have really startled her because she looked suddenly drawn and terrified. Obviously I asked her what was the matter. Instead of answering, she just asked what that noise was. Gina's young, but definitely old enough to know what a smoke alarm sounds like. I crouched down and tried to explain it to her. That it was just a little alarm that lets me know when to change the batteries, that the sound is there to keep us safe. I don't think she bought it. It went off again and she flinched, wrenching away from me. She ran out of the house, and thank god her mother had already left or she would have seen our seven year old throw herself down on the welcome mat, fingers in her ears and anxiety prickling bright in her eyes. I caught her and tried to calm her down, but she kept squirming away until I promised her I would change the battery. Pulling her hands down she asked, "Will that make them go away?" I was rattled, but not as much as I should have been. Gina had always been a quirky child, and little kids react to things in ways you never expect. At that moment I was more concerned with nipping a meltdown in the bud. So I said, "Yeah, princess, of course," because I thought it would. Why wouldn't it? I got the ladder out of the garage, unfolded it and climbed up with the fresh batteries in hand. Changed the old ones out. The noise stopped. The silence was so desolate, it was like the intermittent alarm had been taking up all the space in the room. Now in the vacuum, the air hadn't yet filled back in. I folded up the ladder again and put it back outside. Gina waited on the porch the whole time, looking dubious even when I told her it was fine to come in. We weren't even planning on spending that much time at the house, since she was only here for me to take her out birthday shopping. Honestly, I was a little annoyed that I'd had to drop everything to fix the alarm, but I didn't want to be cross with her so I told myself begrudgingly that Gina had spared me from having to put up with it. After shopping, arms laden, I tried to coax her back in so we could have lunch and wait for her mother. Sure, I could have dropped her off at home myself, but like I said. I'm spiteful. Gina wasn't having it. She stood on the porch, fidgeting with her shirt hem and giving me puppy eyes. She didn't want to budge. I promised ice cream, a sneaky treat her mother wouldn't find out about, and she *still* wouldn't open the door. Hissing through my teeth, I set her presents down and swung the door open myself. "See?" I said, trying and failing to sound like a good, patient parent. "Everything is fine." She stiffened, white-knuckle gripping her clothes so tightly I heard a seam pop. I nearly scolded her, if not for the soft, distant chirp of an alarm. "The fuck?" I mumbled. Gina bolted off the porch, made it all the way to the end of the drive before I caught up to her. I scooped her up, and she started squirming and fussing like she hadn't since she was a toddler. That was how my ex found us. Gina flailing in my arms, almost worked to tears, door wide open and gifts abandoned on the porch. Parking at the drive's end, she sprang out of the car to interrogate me, chew me out. Gina reached for her so plaintively that I honestly couldn't blame my ex for the way she snatched her away. I tried to explain to her about the smoke detector, but she never listens to me anyway. She only barely stayed long enough for me to get the gifts into her car. Then she tore out of there, and I was alone. Pressingly alone, it seemed, when I heard the chirp from inside. It could have been a bad battery, or that I'd rushed and hadn't snapped them in right. The thing that unnerved me was really just how my daughter had reacted to it. I was worried for her more than anything else. At first. I tried to go back to ignoring it, put it out of my mind, whatever. But now when I would hear it, I would think: why did Gina run like that? What could have frightened her so badly? And one day, I wondered. Is it… getting louder? I couldn't be sure if it was my imagination. It's the red car problem, how you're more likely to see one if you're already looking for it. Before, I could ignore the sound even when I was sitting right across the room from it, but now I could hear it from any room of the house. I even tried to move down to the basement when the incessant noise kept waking me up and distracting me during work; even there in the bowels of the house, the soft voice of the battery alarm cut through wall to reach me. I couldn't go anywhere, held hostage to my home office on weekdays. Finally, I gave in. I got the ladder back out, climbed all the way up some fifteen feet, and replaced the batteries again. A brand new pack this time, absolutely no way they could already be used up. The alarm stopped for maybe an hour. When it returned, it was louder, faster. Beating urgently against the inside of the plastic casing. No matter where I was in the house, there was no escaping it. I tried earplugs, headphones, but the more I tried to block it out, the more sharply it cut through any barrier. It started to make my fucking teeth itch. It took me less than a day to crack, hauling the ladder up after an agonized dinner and scrambling to the top. I swear, when I grabbed the smoke detector, it felt like I was holding something living. A beating heart under my hands as I yanked it open. I didn't bother with new batteries now. I threw the ones inside of it on the floor, one of them leaving a fat dent in the hardwood. Who cared? I hated those floors. I hated the alarm. I left it dangling there, spilling its guts out. Proof I'd vanquished this stupid thing once and for all. Once I climbed back down, the exhaustion hit me like a truck. It was so quiet and I'd slept so badly. My brain was starving. I didn't even have the energy to carry the ladder back or fold it up or anything, so I just left it there and threw myself down on the couch. A scream woke me. It was like a nailgun to the eardrum. I had to clap my hands over my ears and roll my head around, looking for where it must have come from. The ceiling screamed again in a short burst. I lay there on my back for a few moments, trying to process what I was hearing. This had to be a hallucination or a dream, sleep deprivation catching up to me. But I've never had a dream that *hurt* before. Each scream, and they were coming with maybe ten seconds between them, they sent hot poker pain through my body. I rolled off the couch and into the kitchen, clipping the wall with my elbow. My body was uncoordinated and unwieldy. Too drained to think, now boiling with adrenaline demanding that I fight or flee. The screaming followed me as I yanked down the kitchen smoke detector. The one in the basement, the one in the upstairs hallway. Even as I was doing it, I knew I was in denial. The sound didn't come from here, though it was as loud as ever. I crouched in the stairwell, teeth grit and arms wrapped around my head. "Shut up, shut up!" I couldn't fucking hear my own voice even in the increasingly brief hiccups between noise because my ears were numb and my brain was on fire. Blood smeared on the sleeves of my shirt. Jesus, I was bleeding, and all I could think about was that sound and how to make it go away. Stumbling out of the house, I made my way barefoot to the garage. I don't know how my neighbors didn't wake up and start joining in, it was so *loud* even outside. Maybe they were. I probably wouldn't have noticed. I banged into the garage door and pawed around in the dark, too fucked to even hit the lightswitch. All I could see by were the streetlamps through the window, and I knocked over a few toolboxes as I careened around the place. One of them broke my toe and I didn't even feel it until later. But I got my hands on what I came for. I don't know why I went back to the house. I could have just left. I'd be crawling down the street, bleeding, and maybe I could never have gone back, but I would be free. I think in the moment I was convinced, possessed by the notion that the noise would follow me even if I ran. So rather than do the sensible thing, I dragged a mallet back with me. Dragged it through the kitchen and the great room, dragged it up the ladder one-handed. I was swaying so much, it's a wonder I didn't fall and crack my head open. When I got to the top, I started screaming back at it, hollering at the ceiling until my throat hurt. Grabbing the mallet, I braced myself on the ladder and swung for the smoke detector. I knocked it off the ceiling with one good strike, sending it flying with chunks of plaster. I hadn't gotten even a breath in before the ceiling screamed back at me. I swung again. Bits of ceiling came down around me. In my hair, in my mouth, sticking to the tacky half-dried blood running down my neck. It stopped. I held my breath, thinking maybe I'd just finally gone deaf, but no- I couldn't feel it in my body anymore either, it wasn't rending the air around me. I tilted my head back. Around the mallet and the still falling debris, shafts of light began to cut through. That wasn't possible. It was the middle of the night, my backyard was nothing but trees, there was no *room* above my house. I could see the dark sky from the window just beside me. I swung the mallet until I'd put a hole in my ceiling big enough to crawl through. I looked into the great room. I mean, when I looked in, it was a mirror of the same room. Not like it was a mirror, but, literally mirrored. Upside down from here. Empty the way it had been when we moved in. Another whole fifteen feet down- up?- from where I stood, there were bits of ceiling plaster on the opposite hardwood floor. The only other thing in the empty room was a ladder, like mine, standing right where mine stood. Looking up at the other room was giving me vertigo. Or maybe it was the rupture in my inner ears. I climbed down as steadily as I could and walked out of the house. I put the mallet back. Just to be sure, I stood outside, all the way at the end of the drive, and looked up. I couldn't see the hole from that side of the house, but I couldn't see another massive room above it either. Staring up at my roof, I almost missed it. The front door opened. My head snapped down just in time to see a silhouette, the size and shape of a man, running out the door and away. I ran across the yard before I even knew what I was doing. But he was fast, and I was barely on my feet. He ran down through the yard of another neighbor, and into the woods. I tried to follow him. Halfway into their drive, I collapsed to my knees, sobbing so hard I thought I would puke. I must have been so loud. I couldn't hear myself. When I got back inside, wet and covered in grass clippings and mud, I stood at the bottom of the ladder and looked up. Through the hole in the ceiling, I could see his ladder. Whoever he was. It lay on the floor of that opposite-room, unreachable. Whether he'd kicked it down as he left, or knocked it to the ground with a desperate leap to make it to my side, I have no way to know. I think the room is still there. I got someone to come in and patch the hole over, and by the look in his eyes when he left, he saw it too. I don't have any answers. Hell, I don't even have questions. What I have is partial deafness in both ears and a profound fear of heights. I know something happened in my home. I can live with not knowing any more.

A Survivor's Accounts of the Depraved Funhouse: The Playmate (Part Two)

y7p2ep

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y7p2ep/a_survivors_accounts_of_the_depraved_funhouse_the/

[[1]](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y6sy0t/a_survivors_accounts_of_the_depraved_funhouse_the/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf) | [[3]](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y8khor/a_survivors_accounts_of_the_depraved_funhouse_the/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf) I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to dispel his echoing screams from my mind. "Fine, you win..." I said, sighing. "We'll wait for the cops." It was another five or so minutes before the police showed up. When they arrived, I let Ray do most of the talking. Finally, the officer turned to me and asked for the photo. "And you said the person that took this photo was the same one that chased after you?" he asked, periodically exchanging glances between me and the photo. "Y-Yeah..." I stammered, dreading the question I somehow just knew he was going to follow up this one with. "And what did you say this person looked like again?" I closed my eyes and took in a deep breath. "She had red and white face paint around her eyes and mouth... You know, like a clown..." I remember feeling so stupid when I said that last part. I was almost sure he was gonna blow the whole thing off as a prank. Surprisingly, though, he actually looked serious. "Would you know of any reason at all why this person would want to hurt this girl?" I just shook my head. I knew, though, it was to get to me. Why, though, I *honestly* wasn't sure. *They took my friend away from me, what the hell else do they want?!* *(The devil was never satisfied until he'd destroyed everyone, and neither was [“The Amazing Beliar”](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/n7g6ra/a_survivors_accounts_of_the_depraved_funhouse_the/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf)...)* Finally, he handed me a card with a phone number on it and told us to call if either of us saw her again. I realized then that I needed to get home. The sky was pitch dark by then. *They're gonna kill me!* I thought to myself, despite the fact that I was, of course, *far* more terrified for Liza at the time. Using Ray's house phone, I called my house, immediately bracing to get both barrels from Ma as soon as she picked up the phone. What happened next, though, scared me far worse. At first, I was a bit relieved -- though of course a bit confused -- when it was actually quiet on the other end for a solid minute or so after the call connected. "H-Hello, Ma? It's me, Linus... Listen, um, I--" That's when I was cut off by a high pitched, squealing giggling from the other end. *What the fu--* My thoughts were cut off, however, when another, hauntingly familiar jittery voice spoke from the other end. *"Come home, Piggy, we've got a surprise for you!"* I began trembling and my hand shook so bad that I ended up dropping the phone, leaving it to dangle from the cord. *No! No, no, no, no, FUCK! They know where I live!* Immediately, my thoughts betrayed me by cycling back through the worst possibilities of what those freaks had done to my parents. "Linus?" I felt hands on my shoulders, shaking me. "Dude, what's going on, what's up?!" I snapped my head over to him, still shaking. "Th-Th-They're in my house!" I ran to the doorway just as the officer was about to leave and told him what'd happened. He asked me my address and I told him and he told me to get in the car. As we basically sped the entire way to my house, I shook to my very core with one very damning question. *What have they done to Ma and Dad?* I half expected the house to be in flames, with Ma and Dad trapped inside, slowly roasting alive. I was only half relieved, though, when we arrived to find that the house *was* still intact from the outside. Of course, I was still very much terrified of what I'd find *inside*. I grabbed the handle of the door and was about to bolt out when the officer told me to stop. "B-But..." I tried, wanting to just bolt out and help rescue my family. *(Just like how I wanted to help Derek...)* He radioed for backup and, ten minutes later, two other patrol cars arrived. "Stay here." he told me as he got out of the car and made his way to the front of my house. The two others I saw approached from the back. I saw the officer knock on the front door twice, drawing his gun after the second attempt. I was shaking, sweating bullets, when I saw the officer draw his gun. *Oh God, please let them be okay...* He then opened the door, apparently having been left unlocked -- something I knew my folks wouldn't ever do under any normal circumstances -- and went inside. *What's going on in there?!* I wondered with nauseating anxiety as I saw the lights being turned on from the windows. About fifteen minutes later, they all came out of the front door and walked back to the car. I was on the verge of a heart attack, bracing myself to hear the horrific news of what'd happened to my family. Then the officer opened my door. "Come on out, son, it's all safe." "Where's Ma and Dad?" I asked, my voice quivering and sounding like a small child about to burst into tears -- which I very much was. He then handed me a sticky note that read *"Had to step out. Door's unlocked. Be back later. Love Ma."* Despite the note, relief was still *very* slow to return to me. *What did they mean by "Surprise"?* I was immediately taken back to the dark room with the three doors. I could faintly hear Happy Bob's deep voice boom, *"... And the last door leads to a special secret surprise!"* As you can probably guess, I lost myself again to the haunting images of the altar and the... the... Well, you know... *("Would you like that, Piggy?")* I felt the officer's hand on my shoulder. "Did you hear me?" he asked. "Huh?" I replied, crashing back to reality. "I said we're gonna stay here with you until your parents get back, okay?" I nodded blankly, still just barely registering anything around me. "Would you have any idea as to when they'd be back?" I shook my head, dazed. Then, however, I remembered something. I remembered how Dad always kept a pager on him from when he was selling cars back in NY. He kept the number for it written on a piece of tape across the front of it. He always told me and Ma that we were only ever supposed to call it in the event of dire emergencies. I told the officer about calling the pager and he, along with two others, accompanied me back inside my house, leaving the other three outside with the vehicles. I dialed the number and waited, still trembling and by this point, just two seconds away from going straight into shock. It didn't help at all that, even with the pager, I still had to wait for one or both of them to *actually* get to a phone, assuming there was even one nearby. All the while, I was still panicking, wondering what the clowns were wanting me to find. "Hello? Linus? Is everything okay?!" The anxious voice of my Dad jarred me. "Uh... I... I..." I began tripping over my own thoughts. *How the hell was I supposed to explain this?* "Linus, what's going on? Are you hurt?" Unable to form a coherent sentence, I handed the phone to the officer. "Hello, this is Officer Hagan from the Nashville Police Department." He began. I listened to him explain the situation at Ray's house and the "possible home invasion", as he termed it. About three minutes later, Officer Hagan handed the phone back to me. "Son! Baby, Oh God, are you okay?!" It was Ma. "Y-Yeah... Yeah, I'm okay..." "We're coming home right now, hang in there, baby!" "O-Okay..." I squeaked out. I was barely being held together by shoestrings by that point, and I couldn't hide it in my voice, either. "I-I-I love you, Mom." "I love you, too! Just hang in there, we'll be pulling into the driveway in ten minutes!" she said before hanging up. About a minute after hanging up, one of the officer's walkies beeped. "Officer Whitmore, here, Over." he answered. *"A call's just come in about a domestic disturbance at a residence in the next neighborhood over from our position. Over."* I saw him look to Officer Hagan questioningly. "Go ahead," Officer Hagan replied. "Me and Gorman will stay here until the kid's folks arrive. Keep me posted if anything goes south." Officer Whitmore then stood up and headed for the door. "Copy that," he said into the walkie on his way out, "Where'd the call call come in from? Over." As the officers left, leaving only officer Hagan and his partner, Gorman, one question after another continued pounding like a jackhammer in my head. *How did they find my house? How long have they been following me? WHY have they been following me?* Then, of course, There was still the unshakeable, spine chilling question of what they planned to do with Liza. *What was the "Secret surprise"?* While my mind continued brooding over this, I could, albeit very faintly, hear voices breaking through the static of one of the officer's radios. *"Nashville P.D. to base... Repeat, Nashville P.D. to base... We're En route. E.T.A. ten minutes..."* was all I was able to make out at the time. I remember hearing a multitude of sirens in the distance, mentally noting with a shiver at just how close they sounded. *Why are there so many of them?* My head began spinning so hard from the hysteria and the confusion that I actually began to feel dizzy physically. "You okay, there, kid?" I faintly heard officer Hagan's voice say. "Why don't you go splash some water on your face? Help you relax." "O-Okay..." I meekly muttered, trudging upstairs to the bathroom. I had to hold onto the railing as I slugged along. My head was swimming. *What is the "secret surprise"?!* This constant paranoid thought process caused me to immediately begin turning the bathroom inside out as soon as I turned on the light. I shivered, fearing what I might find. Nothing. Nothing was wrong here. Nothing had been moved, taken, opened, or broken. There wasn't so much as a hair out of it's place. At least, not until I opened the medicine cabinet and a small slip of paper fell out onto the sink below. Eyes wide, I picked it up with reinvigorated terror. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath to try and relax my quaking hands long enough to hold the paper still. Once I was able to hold still, I opened my eyes to see that I was holding another photo. This one was of Derek. Looking closer, my heart nearly stopped dead in my chest when I realized that it was the *same* photo from the park. The eyes and mouth had been defaced with the red clown smile just like the photo from earlier with Liza. I felt my stomach turn over on itself as I turned the photo around to see that it, too, had a message written on the back of it. ***"We had so much fun with him, didn't we? Remember how happy he looked?"*** *"Please! PLEASE, NO MORE!"* Vertigo finally got the better of me and I began to retch into the toilet. Images of Derek's scarred face flooded my mind. in an almost endless barrage, each accompanied by his pleas for mercy. A knock at the bathroom door took my attention away from the toilet. "You okay in there, kid?" "Y-Yeah... Yeah, I'm okay..." I weakly responded. "Alright, well, when you're ready, your parents are waiting for you outside." I slowly picked myself up and made my way back downstairs, still feeling extremely nauseous. Ma nearly bowled officer Hagan over as she swooped me into her arms before I could even reach the last step. "Oh my God! Baby, are you okay?!" I just stared back at her in a blank daze, before just burying my face into her chest like a shy toddler. Once again, I heard one of the officer's radios go off, faintly hearing the words, *"Attention all units, this is officer Whitmore requesting backup... We've got two adults and a minor in critical condition!"* "Copy that, you said two adults and a minor? Over." I heard officer Gorman respond as he walked outside. I just clutched tighter to Ma as officer Hagan showed her and Dad the photo of me and Liza. I felt Ma's embrace tighten around me as officer Hagan asked if they'd know of anyone who'd want to hurt me or Liza. Of course, they didn't. They wouldn't have known about the clowns... About Derek... I didn't ever talk about it. I didn't want to. I didn't want to remember. *(It was all because I wanted to forget...)* He then explained that a patrol would be stationed outside my house for the next week or so when officer Gorman came back inside, gesturing for his partner to follow him out. About two minutes later, officer Hagan came back inside and asked to speak with Ma and Dad privately. Obliging, Ma and Dad told me to go wait in the living room while they relocated to the dining room to talk. At the time, I couldn't make out any of what they were saying, noticing instead the periodic glances in my direction from the officers as they spoke. *What happened? What're they talking about in there?* I wondered with a sinister chill pricking down my spine when I watched Ma cover her mouth with a horrified expression. Almost immediately after she turned back to the officers, I noticed a small series of flashes from outside the living room window. And keep in mind, these weren't police flashes. No, rather, these were bright, white flashes that seemed to just occur sporadically, about two or three flashes every few seconds. I slowly got up from my spot on the couch and went over to the window, squinting my eyes. Cupping my face to the window, I strained my eyes to try and make out the source of the flashes. At first, I thought it might've just been one of the neighbor's porchlights going on the fritz from across the street. But once I got to the window, however, I noticed the flashes were occurring about two and a half or so feet *away* from the neighbor's house to the right of it. Despite straining my eyes to the point where it was actually beginning to feel uncomfortable, I couldn't see exactly what it was that was causing the flashes. Who or whatever was responsible for it appeared to be -- almost strategically -- placed in a spot just outside the illumination radius of the streetlamp that was situated just beyond the front yard of the house across the street, under complete cover of night. "Oh God, Linus, sweetheart, I'm here! Momma's here now!" I heard my mother softly say, shuddering as her arms wrapped around my waist and began to squeeze. A feeling I will always miss. I was jolted away from the window to see my mother's red face and watery brown eyes. "Everything's gonna be okay, baby..." She tried, futilely, to smile. Turning back to the window, I saw that the flashes were now gone. "What, what is it honey? What did you see?" I stared at the window, blinking in confusion. *What was that?* "It's nothing. I muttered, shaking my head. I felt her arms tighten around me. "Are you *sure* you saw nothing?" I saw her face take on the most worried and downright terrified expression I'd ever seen in that moment. It scared me, but worse, it broke me because of how much I could see the way this whole crisis was tearing at her. She was scared, which meant *I* was in trouble -- even if I didn't know (Or at least wanted to *pretend* I didn't know) why. I never wanted to see that look from her again. *(Like I'd get what I wanted...)* "Y-Yeah... Yeah, it's nothing, I promise. I think I'm just tired. I think my eyes are messing with me." She pulled me in for another snug embrace, burying my face in her chest. She just held me like that for another moment before telling me to go ahead and go lay down. I looked at her and then to Dad and the others. "Go on ahead to bed, son. I love you, we'll talk more in the morning." Dad said, giving me a brief, but firm side-hug before I shambled blankly upstairs to my room. Once I found my bed, exhaustion overrode my restless thoughts and I was out cold almost before my head could even hit the pillow. That said, my sleep was anything BUT peaceful. I'd spend that entire night tossing and turning with a very specific -- and very vivid -- nightmare. I dreamt that I was back inside of the dark room in HappyWorld. The "Balloon Room", surrounded by all of those dead kids. Only, they weren't dead. They all looked at me with their scarred, mutilated smiles and crawled towards me, screaming *"Always remember to smile! Smile for us!"* before bursting into flames. That's when Derek appeared on top of the altar. At first, he looked normal, but then he peeled the skin away from around his eyes and tore his mouth upwards ear-to-ear. He says to me "I wanna thank you, Linus. Now I can always be happy." I then become seized by the screaming, burning, mutilated kids as Derek walks up to me and says "Now we can both smile together." Then, he digs his fingers into my face to rip off my eyelids. As I scream in pain, I see the Amazing Beliar, smiling in demented glee, then plunge his blade into Derek's head, causing it to explode and shower the entire area around in gore. He then lets out an inhuman laugh as he sticks the blade in my mouth and drags it from one side to the other as his head morphs into that of a black goat with fangs. I screamed harder than ever as I then burst into flames myself, before suddenly being shaken awake. "Linus! Honey, wake up!" My eyes shot open and I immediately saw my mother's face illuminated in the moonlight from my bedroom window. I just laid there, sweating and breathing heavily when she asked "Are you okay?" I stared back at her in a groggy daze, mind completely lost in a scrambled trance and answered "Y-Yeah..." She kissed the top of my head before telling me to follow her. She led me down the stairs into the kitchen. When she pulled up two chairs to the kitchen counter, I knew immediately what she was doing. In a soft, soothing voice, she whispered, "I know you're all grown up now and all, but I can't let my little one go without some of momma's delicious cookies and warm milk after a nightmare like that." She began setting the oven. I sat down at the counter, a smile molding into my face as I saw her get out the ingredients. She winked at ne when she pulled out the chocolate chips and M&Ms. While I watched her knead the batter, I was instantly reminded of the nights when I'd walk into her and Dad's room after having a bad dream and she'd always whip up about two dozen cookies, each perfectly soft and crumbly to the point where they'd melt in your mouth on contact and each and every flavor would basically be imprinted in your tongue. She'd always serve them with a glass of freshly warmed milk that's heated just right to where just one glass (Or Hell, just ine good gulp if we're being completely honest) and it was lights out quicker than taking a tranquilizer in your ass. *(I wish to God I could have that now. Who am I kidding, though, I doubt even THAT would work anymore...)* Once she was finished mixing the batter, she handed me the spoon for me to lick clean, just like she would when I was little. Smiling, I took it and gave my taste buds a sense of heaven while she did the same, licking her fingers clean with a warm smile. I almost couldn't contain my excitement when I watched her dump half of the jar of M&Ms into the batter before mixing then in by hand. As she had her back to me to put the cookies into the oven, I caught a slight, bright flash out of the corner of my right eye from the kitchen window. It was instantaneous and, had the house not been dark and quiet, I probably wouldn't have even noticed. I looked over to the window to see nothing but the dark backyard. Nothing out of place. *Am I seeing things?* I wondered. "Whatcha looking at?" Ma whispered. looking out through the window herself. "Uh... N-Nothing." I responded, rubbing my eyes before putting an excited grin back on my face, anxiously anticipating the cookies. For a second, she held a somber, sympathetic sort of look on her face before melting away back to her warm, smile again. "Why don't you wait on the couch in the living room, I'll join you when the cookies are ready, eh?" I nodded and sluggishly shambled ny way to the couch. As I sat there, teased by the intoxicating aroma of baking goodies, my mind continued to, albeit only mildly, brood over one question. *What the hell are these flashes?* Eventually, Ma joined me on the couch with the treats, hugging me close with the cookie platter between us and lovingly whispering "Enjoy sweetheart." For about the next ten minutes or so, I did just that, smiling back up at Ma and telling her she was the best mom ever. Then I saw it again, another series of bright, blinking white lights from the corner of my right eye from outside the living room window. They were occurring even closer to the window than before, yet, I still couldn't really make out who or *what* it was actually coming from. I found myself then huddling closer to Ma. "Honey, what's wrong?" she asked, her voice beginning to break. I looked out of the window again to see -- just like before -- no flashing, no lights. "Nothing, I think I'm just seeing things..." I groggily answered again. *(Goddamn it, WHY DID I HAvE TO BE A COWARD!)* Ma put her hands on my shoulders, positioning me to meet eyes with her. "Linus, honey, *please*," I could see her eyes starting to glisten in the moonlight, "I need you to be honest with me." I just stared back at her, not knowing at all how to even begin telling her. That five months ago, I watched my friend get murdered and sacrificed to the devil by a group of psycho clowns in a funhouse. And that now, they were for some reason stalking me, as well as possibly targeting Liza, AND NOW, I'm seeing random, mysterious flashing lights outside. I know what you're thinking here, and I can't necessarily blame you to a degree. I know you think I should've just came clean already, but damn it, *I WAS SCARED, OKAY?!* Back then, I was just a stupid kid, loved life and just wanted to have fun. Then I met Derek, made a kickass friend in him. And then "The Balloon", and now all of this. I... I... *Oh God...* *(I just wanted to keep running. I still do...)* "Officer Hagan told us about the photo." she squeaked, her voice continuing to quiver. "Who's doing this? Who's trying to hurt you?" "I... I... I don't know." I lied. My body and mind were both trembling furiously, just wanting to write the day's events off as just one big nightmare that'd pass by morning. She just stared at me, just seconds -- no, *less than seconds* \-- away from straight up breaking down. "I love you so much, Linus..." With that, I just curled back into her embrace, clinging to her like a frightened animal for dear life. Before I fell asleep, my mother pressed my head into her chest and whispered the words that bring me so much more pain even to this day when I remember them, "I couldn't take it if I lost you."

I'm a security guard for hire. My last job nearly killed me. (part 1)

y7moz6

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y7moz6/im_a_security_guard_for_hire_my_last_job_nearly/

I’m a security guard who works for a company that hires me freelance to whoever needs. So I’ve had times when I would go to work and have absolutely no idea where I was going. Sometimes I’d be patrolling football games on Friday night. Other times I would have to fill in for someone who called off sick at a warehouse, or one of the other places the company contracted out to. So, there wasn’t a lot of stability in my job, but when you’re the night watchman, you’re the night watchman. There’s not a lot of activity, you’re just kind of there to check the locks and make sure nobody breaks in. There was a large antique store in downtown that used to be an old department store that went out of business. Back when such things existed. It sat vacant for years, decades even. And then someone bought it and turned it into an antique store. They sold things on consignment, so it was actually many stores within one. The security company I worked for was called because there had been things going missing from the store. They decided it was worth it to have someone staying there overnight to make sure no one was breaking in. So, I was given the job. It wasn’t tough. I would bring my lunch in and put it in the refrigerator, then I would walk around the store. It had an upstairs and downstairs, and at nighttime, it was a little creepy. Any place that you walked on the upstairs floor, the boards creaked. Downstairs was completely different. It was a basement, but it didn’t really have that musty basement smell. With all the antiques there it had that antique smell, which is kind of hard to explain. It was like old memories. After doing the job for a while the owners really came to appreciate the job I did. Nobody was breaking in, nothing was getting moved, and I was very clean. I didn’t leave anything behind, in fact sometimes if I saw a mess on the floor, I would clean it up. So, the owners talked to the company and requested that I work there full-time. And that was fine with me. It was interesting for a while. I would go through different parts of the store that had different things. Each section was like its own little store. At night if I was bored, I would go over and pull one of the used books off the shelf and that’s the book I would read for the night. When I’d put it back, I would make a note in my notebook of what page I ended on and the next night I would get the book and pick up where I left off. There were other times when I would look through the one shop’s records collection looking for ones that I wanted to buy or that my friends were looking for. I would call them and tell them it was here. Not only was I guarding the place, but I was also bringing in more business. I would walk through and see what was in each shop as I patrolled. And if I knew there was something a friend was looking for, I’d call up and tell them about it. I was very happy with my job. And then came the change in weather. During the summertime, it was great because no matter how hot it was outside, once I would get down to that basement, it was always nice and cool. Once fall came around something changed, something became different. There was a different mood in the air. During the summer I would go around and on days that I was bored, I would have conversations with the different objects, the different dolls, mannequins, and things like that. I would even name them. “Hey, Fred, how’s it going tonight?” I say in passing to the mannequin dressed in a gentleman’s suit from the past century. I would chuckle as I walked away. It was just something to keep me interested and keep me on my toes. When September rolled around the owners of the shops started moving different merchandise in for the fall season. Every night I’d come in and a few things would be different. I would familiarize myself with them and see what they were. Maybe it would be a new doll or a statue. I would give it a new name, but aside from merchandise changing, there was something in the air. The mood was changing too. I don’t know if it had to do with the change in the seasons or the merchandise, but it became less of a light-hearted, carefree attitude. Especially once the Halloween decorations started moving in. I have nothing against Halloween. I’m just as up for reading a scary book as the next person, but some of the things were downright weird. There was a ventriloquist’s dummy that looked super creepy. Not only were the new things moving in but sometimes those new things would change position from one night to the next. It seemed odd to me that the shop managers would switch things from one shelf to another. I don’t know if it had something to do with the display, that somehow it would be spotted and sold more easily, but it seemed to be happening a lot. Not just one shop owner was doing this daily switcheroo, but several of them. It was a mystery, but I had plenty of time to figure out a mystery while I was sitting around every night in between patrols. It was shortly after that I heard the first sound. Now mind you, I sit in total silence all night while I’m guarding the place. I don’t listen to music because I want to keep my ears open for anyone messing with the doors. By this point, I’d come to know the sounds this store made. There were times when the heat turned on and the pipes would creak and pop. There were times when the floors would creak because of the change in temperature. The first night I heard it, it freaked me out so badly. After months of working here, I knew exactly when every pop and creak will happen and what caused it. This one was different. I was sitting there reading a book when all of the sudden I heard a creak directly over my head as if someone had just taken a step above me. One step and that was it. I froze. I slowly put my book down and looked up. The ceiling didn’t provide me with any answers. So, I quietly crept out of my spot and started up the stairs, pulling out my flashlight. The place was semi-lit with security lights during the night. It was easy to see to get around but there were still dark corners, so the flashlight came in handy. I made it partway up the steps and flashed my light around trying to spot someone as quickly as possible. I focused my light on the spot where I’d heard the sound, but there was nothing there. I slowly crept around the side trying to come to that spot and head off any angles where someone could escape. I kept my light trained on the spot so I would see if they peeked their eyes around the corner or if they suddenly darted off in a different direction, but nothing happened. As I got closer, my apprehension grew. I switched my flashlight to my non-dominant hand, unlocked the taser, and had my hand on it. “Whoever you are, you’re trespassing,” I said to the air. I didn’t get any response back. The creaks being caused by my own feet were creeping me out as well. I came to a spot where there was a display, and I knew that was exactly where I had heard the footstep. I stood there, mesmerized, looking at the little pumpkin face decoration and smiling at me. I darted around the corner and flashed my light at the only place the person would have had to hide but there was nothing there. I suddenly felt very exposed. The thought crept into my mind and refused to leave. ‘Someone’s here and you can’t see them.’ I looked around behind the display but there was no one. I did a slow circle around all the other displays in that general area and found nothing. You know how when you’re watching a horror movie and you know something terrible is about to happen and it doesn’t? It makes you that much more terrified of what’s about to happen next. That’s a rabbit hole that I was slowly tumbling down. The longer it took me to find someone the more apprehensive I became. I did a slow walk through the entire upstairs, paying close attention to the dark corners, but there was absolutely nothing out of the ordinary. The only thing I could find different was once again a few pieces of merchandise had moved positions. Was somebody sneaking in and moving stuff around just to creep me out? I was mystified as to why. I mean sometimes kids do stupid stuff like that but how would they get inside? I double-checked the locks on all the doors, and they were secure. After I did my round, I wasn’t satisfied by any means. I would have much rather found something than nothing. Because ‘something’ you can chase away. You can yell at it, you can tell it you’re going to call the police. But with ‘nothing’ there’s not a single thing you can do. I went back downstairs feeling helpless as I did a round through the basement, also finding nothing. I sighed, attempted to shrug it off, and went back to reading my book. I can’t say I was fully focused on reading. The rest of the night my eyes kept darting around, waiting to see someone jump up at me and say, ‘Gotcha!’ But that didn’t happen either. Let’s just say that I was relieved when morning came that day. I was very happy to go home, however, my mind never got to full resting mode. That day as I fought off the sunlight to try to sleep, my mind kept drifting back to, ‘Did I really hear that, or was it just my imagination?’ I’m not easily rattled. I used to work as a corrections officer, so I’m used to dealing with difficult situations. But this was bothering me because it was a situation where there seemed to be no situation. And that bothered me because that meant it was all in my head. I went back to work that night and was on edge the entire night. I did more rounds than usual. I tried to stay diligent of dark corners. I shined my flashlight around a lot more than usual. It was like my entire body was keyed up in anticipation of the same thing happening again. But it didn’t. Nothing happened. I wasn’t sure if that was better or worse. The night after that I went back to work and tried to settle into my normal routine, mentally laughing it off at the fact that I got so upset over nothing. That night, once again, I was sitting downstairs after having completed my first round and was reading my book when I heard the footstep. This time it wasn’t just a creak of a board, I heard an actual footstep, like a boot had stepped on the floor. I instantly felt pins and needles all over my body. I slowly set down the book, picked up the flashlight, and started upstairs. Like the last time, I moved slowly and cautiously, trying to flank the position so that anyone who was there would not be able to get around me. “Whoever is here, you’re trespassing on private property!” I said, panning the flashlight around. “If you don’t leave, if you don’t show yourself, I will call the police.” Nothing. The only sound was the fading echo of my own words. I approached the same display where I had heard the creak the last time. Once again, I found a colorful display of pumpkin decorations staring me back in the face, but no person, no boot, no nothing that could’ve possibly made the sound. The only thing that was different this time was one of the pumpkin decorations was swaying back and forth a tiny bit as though someone had bumped the display. My search of the upstairs proved futile and fruitless. I went back to my book feeling rattled but also annoyed. I was going to catch whoever was playing this stupid trick on me, it was a mission. The next night went off without a hitch. Even though I was keyed up I was ready to catch whoever was doing this, but there wasn’t a thing out of the ordinary. The night after that I didn’t hear a footstep… I heard a dozen footsteps running rapidly, heading toward the far end of the store. I bolted out of my seat and ran down to the far end of the store in the basement, and took the stairs two at a time. I could hear as I ran the footsteps and I were running in the same direction. I knew I would catch him at the exit door. This was it. He was mine. I made it to the door before the footsteps did and stood there, my hand on my taser, my flashlight up and ready. I was going to catch him. And then the footsteps stopped. I stopped right before the top of the staircase. “I know you’re there,” I said pointing the flashlight up the stairs. “Step out and let me see you.” Nothing. Dead silence. “I’ve had it with this game,” I said. “Step out now! I’m taking the safety off my taser. If you don’t I will tase you.” Nothing. “Fine, have it your way,” I said as I bolted up the stairs. The footsteps had stopped right there, the person should’ve been standing right there. But there was nothing. There was no place he could’ve hidden. It was all open at the top of the stairs. He couldn’t have walked away. I would’ve heard the floor creaking. He couldn’t have gotten past me, I would’ve seen him. It was like he vanished if he was ever there. I stood there, dumbfounded. ‘What the hell is happening to me?’ I panned the flashlight all around, but there was no place he could’ve gotten to before I got to the top of the steps. The steps weren’t wooden, they were made of stone, so my coming up wouldn’t have made enough noise to cover the sound of him running away. I started worrying about my mental well-being. I knew I’d heard the sounds. I knew I’d heard someone running upstairs. There was no doubt in my mind… or was there? I hadn’t found anything. So, either I was hearing things, my mind was playing tricks on me, or it was something else. I decided I needed proof. So, the next night when I came to work, I sat my cell phone on the counter, and of course, I heard nothing. When you’re anticipating something happening and it doesn’t, it’s frustrating. The next night I sat my phone on the counter and read my book, after doing my normal rounds. As soon as I heard anything, I turned my phone on video and hit record. I heard footsteps running toward the rear entrance. I followed them. After another fruitless chase, I returned to my counter and watched the video. All it showed was the ceiling, but I was only listening for the sound. I heard the steps on the phone. I was happy that I could hear them. It meant I had proof that I wasn’t going crazy. Then I heard my own footsteps running away, chasing after them. I left the video running as my mind started wandering. ‘Ok, now I have proof, but proof of what?’ I thought. Suddenly I heard a voice. It was quiet, harsh, and raspy. It said four simple words. “Why are you here?” I spun around, looking for whoever had just spoken, but no one was there. “Who is it?” I screamed. “Stop doing that!” Nothing. I looked around for hidden speakers or anything that might be doing this. I looked under the counter, over the counter, through the counter. Nothing. I heard myself walking back and picking up the phone, then the video ended. I stared at the phone for a long moment then started the video again. Same thing, the footsteps, followed by me running after them. I was about to turn it off when the voice sounded again. “Why are you here?” I rewound the video ten seconds and listened again. “Why are you here?” I rewound it over and over, hearing the voice each time. Then I turned it off and did a slow circle. The only thing around me was the antiques. Old books and statues, buttons of failed politicians, and old porcelain figurines. There was no one there. I found myself at a crossroads. Do I treat this as a prank and ignore it? Or do I let my curiosity drag me down the rabbit hole to find out what was really going on? I set the phone on the counter, turned it to video, and hit record. “I’m here to protect the merchandise,” I said. “Why are you here?” I looked around and saw nothing out of the ordinary. I let the video record for another minute then shut it off and played it back. I heard my own voice ask the question, then after a few moments of silence, I shook my head at my own stupidity. ‘Of course, that wasn’t going to work because there was nothing there,’ I thought. Just then I heard the voice. “You don’t belong here,” it said in a low, raspy voice. My shaking hand reached for the phone. At that moment I completely agreed with the voice. I didn’t belong here. My knees were shaking. Chills ran up and down my spine. I spun around trying to find the mystery voice, but it wasn’t there. I nearly dropped the phone; my hands were shaking so badly when I rewound and listened to the video again. The voice was still there. I laid the phone down on the counter and started another video. “I have to be here,” I said trying not to stammer. “It’s my job.” Then I let the video record for another minute. When I rewound and played it, I got my answer. “Leave and never return,” it said. I started another video and said, “And what if I do return?” When I played it back, I wish I hadn’t. The only word it said was, “Consequences.” I suddenly felt cold, like the temperature in the room had dropped below freezing. I didn’t try to ask any more questions after that. I picked up my phone and went upstairs for the rest of the night. When the owners came in the morning the woman asked me if I was feeling ok. “You look pale,” she said. “Like you’ve seen a… “ “I’m fine,” I said interrupting her. “Just a little tired.” “Well go home and get some rest,” she said. “Thanks to you, we’re having a record quarter.” I smiled weakly and opened my mouth to say something, then thought better of it. “I’m glad I can help out,” I said, then excused myself and drove home. It took every ounce of fortitude I had to step inside the store that night. When I turned and locked the door behind me, the click had a sound of finality. I walked slowly through the upstairs on my first round, suspicious of every nook and cranny. Even the friendly faces on the dolls and festive decorations took on a sinister look. It was as if the entire store was watching me. By the time I reached the stairwell at the far end of the store, my nerves were shot. I had my flashlight out and hand on my taser. For some reason, the stairwell light was off. I flicked it on and descended the uninviting stairs. When I reached the bottom, the lights were off in the basement as well. I flicked them on and for a heartbeat, I swore I saw something dart out of the light and into a shadow. My senses, already on high alert, went into convulsions. Before I knew it, the taser was in my hand and the red beam was dancing around, bouncing off the myriad objects on the shelves. My feet felt like they were encased in concrete. For a handful of minutes, I stood frozen to the spot, waiting for anything to move, praying it wouldn’t. My mind screamed at me. ‘Leave! Get out of here! It’s not worth it!’ I entertained the thought and then came to my senses. ‘It’s just my imagination is all,’ I thought. ‘There’s nothing down here I haven’t seen a hundred times.’ I tried to smile and chuckle, but it didn’t quite feel right. Half of me wanted to listen to my mind's prodding and bug the hell out. I finally overcame my paralysis and started my round in the basement. I walked, trying to act nonchalant, but eyes darting back and forth looking for trouble. The taser hadn’t made it back into my holster yet either. When I got to the spot where I thought I had seen something move, I took a long look. There was nothing out of the ordinary, except an overweight porcelain clown that was on the floor instead of the second shelf where it usually sat. “Are you causing trouble, tubbo?” I said to the clown. Thankfully, it didn’t answer. I walked away feeling a little better for trying to lighten the moment. I stepped up to the books to choose which I would read tonight. As I perused the titles, one stuck out at me, literally. It was as if someone had only put it back in halfway. I pulled it out and looked at the title, ‘Cape Fear’. “Nope,” I said putting the book back. “Not up for anything scary tonight.” I looked around at the other books and picked out a Dave Barry collection. But I couldn’t pull it off the shelf. It was as if the book was glued to the spot. I shrugged and tried to pick another humor book, but it was stuck too. I tried others, but they were all stuck. It was the strangest thing. I tried a romance but couldn’t get it loose, I tried several other genres, but none would come off the shelf. I was mystified. Out of curiosity, I picked out a horror novel and it came out in my hand. I put it back and picked another, it came out as well. After trying many, I found the only books I could get off the shelf were horror. I backed away from the strange phenomenon and continued my round. ‘I just won’t read tonight,’ I thought, trying not to let the weird bookshelves rattle me. I made my way to my counter and eyed it with suspicion. ‘Maybe I should sit somewhere else tonight,’ I thought of my favorite spot. With no book and nothing to do but stare at the many objects that surrounded me, I found myself doing more rounds than usual. Hearing the floorboards creak under my own feet was little consolation. My nerves were still dancing on the edge of a knife. I went back downstairs to complete my round. At this point, I was intentionally trying not to notice things. I walked past one display and froze as I caught something out of the corner of my eye. I backed up and looked at the display. The clown that I had spoken to the last round looked exactly the same as it had, except for one important detail. It was back on the second shelf. ‘I know it was on the floor,’ I thought, my mind racing. ‘I *know* it was.’ I stared at the clown, his porcelain smile full of mischief. I tried something crazy, hoping no one would ever find out about it. I pulled out my phone and recorded the clown. “Are you the one causing all this trouble?” I said aiming the camera at it. I left the camera recording for an additional minute to give time for an answer. Then I stopped recording and started watching. I heard my voice ask the question, then nothing. I waited for the answer, but there was none. I stared into the glossy eyes of the clown for a long moment. Then I tore my gaze away and continued the rest of my round. ‘Someone is messing with me,’ I thought. Then I slowly reconsidered. ‘Or is it something?’ I looked back toward where the clown sat in his display. I sat quietly at my counter, trying not to have a nervous breakdown. My thoughts were tumbling through my mind so quickly that I lost track of time. I glanced at my watch and nearly an hour had passed. I got up and did my next round, but when I got back to the basement, the clown was once again on the floor. I pulled out my phone, mumbling, “I know he wasn’t there the last time.” Sure enough, I played the video and the clown was sitting on the second shelf. “Ha,” I said, pointing at the clown. “I caught you!” I turned the phone around and showed the video to the inanimate object. Then realized just how insane my actions were. I slowly turned the phone around and shut it off. I walked away and sat back down at my counter. The next round I tried ignoring the clown but found my eyes drifting toward its display. But instead of finding it once again on the shelf, there was another surprise. It was gone. I looked all around the display, but it wasn’t there. I frantically searched the nearby displays but couldn’t find it. Beads of sweat formed on my forehead. I did a slow pan around and felt as if it was lurking behind any of the thousand objects in the store. I pulled out my flashlight and searched every dark corner. I slowly made my way through the basement, not finding any sign of my quarry. I approached my counter and there it was, on top of the counter, pretty as you please, staring at me. It was all I could do not to scream. I refused to touch it. I stood there, transfixed, staring at this impossible scene. And then my mind woke up and sent me very specific instructions. ‘Run!’ it said. ‘Get the hell out of here!’ I bolted for the stairs and took them two at a time. I tore through the store and fumbled with the keys to unlock the main door, dropping them twice just like in every horror movie I’d ever seen. Finally, I managed to open the door and step out. The cold, late October, air slammed into my face making me screech to a halt. I stood there looking at the streetlights in the pre-dawn gloaming. The sidewalks were empty, making me feel totally alone and on my own. I took in several slow, deep, breaths of the frigid air. My mind began to slow. ‘What the hell just happened?’ I asked myself. But I couldn’t come up with an answer I wanted to accept. ‘I’m a former corrections officer,’ I thought. ‘I’ve dealt with people who’ve tried to kill me, throw things on me that should never be thrown, I’ve done countless cell extractions, and yet here I am scared out of my mind by a toy.’ I shook my head in wonder, then turned and went back inside, locking the door behind me. Two steps in I could feel the difference. There was a heaviness in the air. A stillness that was disturbing. My bravado was evaporating with every step. ‘Keep it together, man,’ I told myself, looking at my watch. ‘Only a few more hours, then go home and get some sleep.’ I came around the edge of the stairwell and started down the stairs when my foot caught on something and I went sailing out into the air. By sheer miracle, my hand shot out and grabbed the handrail, keeping me from tumbling down the stone stairs and ending up with at least a concussion, if not a quick trip to the morgue. My body swung around and slammed into the hard metal railing, knocking the breath out of me. I hoped I hadn’t broken any ribs, but there was pain radiating from my side. After a few minutes, I caught my breath and slowly stood, looking back up the stairs to see what I had tripped on. There sat the clown…

I Can't Believe What Our Hotel Security Camera Captured

y7ahqb

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y7ahqb/i_cant_believe_what_our_hotel_security_camera/

As a teenager, I discovered I was a night owl. I blame the internet partially, but also, there was a weird thrill associated with being awake while the rest of the world slumbers. You feel like an explorer glimpsing something few people have ever seen. Granted, most of the time growing up, the only thing I glimpsed during those hours were video games and porn, but you get my point. It’s unnatural to be nocturnal as a human. There’s a thrill to being out of step with the natural order. To that end, I started working the overnight shift at the front desk of a hotel. While there isn’t a ton of people who come breezing in at those hours, you see more traffic than you’d imagine. It mainly was exhausted road-tripping families looking for a place to catch some Zzzs before the next leg of their sojourn or couples meeting up for a clandestine affair with lust clouding their eyes (it’s always easy to spot a cheating couple). Still, there was enough of them to keep you busy. Not overworked but steady. While I had never intended hotel work to be a career, I did find a lot of joy in the work, and, as an added bonus, I was *really* good at it. About a year into the gig, the big boss sat me down and asked me what my plans were post-college. I said I thought I might move to the coasts and look for work that would take advantage of my major (at that time, it was psychology), but everything was up in the air at the moment. The big boss told me that, if I wanted, there would be a night manager position opening up at a property the owner at just purchased in Cincinnati. The starting pay was great, it had tremendous benefits, and if I had a degree in hospitality management, my pay could double in the first year. I had no real love for psychology nor any real job prospects in the field at the time. Plus, the idea of grad school had started to fill me with dread. I decided that I would take the plunge and go for it. I shook the big boss’s hand, and my new career path was set. In a year, I’d be the night manager at a newly renovated hotel in a major-ish city. I was thrilled. A year later, I packed up my stuff and moved to Cincinnati. Built in 1922, the Pullman Hotel was a vintage building that had once been the city’s crown jewel but had since fallen into disrepair. What once was the town’s hot spot with a lively big band and front page style galas had become a flophouse that catered to transients staying week to week or prostitutes staying hour to hour. The guts of the building looked like an open sore that never totally scabbed over. But the facade on the outside could still catch you by surprise. It had that 20s Art Deco look that made even the drabbest office buildings stand out. Where the Pullman was located, it shined like a diamond in a pile of trash. But urban renewal was becoming all the rage, and gentrification came calling. Soon, all the dilapidated buildings nearby started to change owners, and construction crews shared the streets with unhoused people’s tents. My new boss bought the Pullman for a song and took a buffer’s rag to that dull diamond. The transformation was impressive. The Pullman looked as glamorous as the day it first opened. My boss took special care to keep the décor as accurate to the era as possible while adding modern touches. It worked. The local press went gaga for the restoration, and soon the Pullman was filling up with travelers from all over the country. The shift in the population of the surrounding area had happened. As always, working-class people were priced out of a place they had lived in for decades as rich, white yuppies moved in. As if to put an exclamation point on the whole gentrification endeavor, a Starbucks opened around the corner. While the Pullman filled with new staff, there were a lot of holdovers from the previous regime. My boss thought these people knew the hotel at its worst and deserved to see it at its best. I found that touching – that was something they didn’t have to do, but it engendered goodwill to the mostly new staff. The first three months went smoothly. I loved the night shift, and the crew was great. We all got along and kept the Pullman humming. I genuinely loved my night security crew – a few were holdovers from the other owners, and we just clicked. They had hundreds of stories from their time serving at the flophouse. Some wild shit happened in the old Pullman. Omar, the head of security, liked to talk about the guests who “checked in but never checked out.” It was his clever way of saying ghosts. He said the building was filled with them – a lot of people died in the hotel during its flop days. Omar mentioned that, even after five years on the job, he still got goosebumps while doing his nightly rounds. He was glad for the security cameras the new owner had installed – it meant he didn’t have to brush up against specters so often. I loved the stories Omar told, but I thought they were just that – stories. I don’t believe in anything paranormal, especially ghosts. Often times the “evidence” people mentioned with ghosts were all explainable. “Orbs” were just dust or bugs. “Dark figures” were just shadows that hit the right way. Voices picked up by “spirit boxes” or EVP recordings were just our brains trying to make sense of random electrical noise. Most ghostly faces were just everyday objects and tricks of light. Face pareidolia is hardwired into our brains – we seek out faces that look like us. Ever seen a face in a piece of toast or a tree? It’s your brain looking for others like you. Nothing more. But Omar was a true believer. He told me about all the times he saw strange shit in the hotel. There was the time he saw a disembodied hand open the emergency exit door on the second floor. Or the time he heard what sounded like people laughing in the empty downstairs boiler room. My favorite was the time he was climbing down an access ladder in the basement and saw a face staring at him in the room below. “Bro, I damn near shit myself when I saw that face. I shot up that ladder faster than a fuckin’ rocket.” As I said, Omar had a million stories about the Pullman, and he loved sharing them with us during downtimes. But while each story was different, they always started the same way. “It’s a cold spot – that’s when you know they’re there,” he’d say, shaking his head, “that’s when I bug the fuck out before someone shows up and haunts my ass.” I told him it was probably just our ancient AC system acting up. While the old Pullman had been a ghost haven, nothing out of the ordinary had happened since the renovations. Like the transients, the spirits had seemingly moved on. Apparently, we had thrown them out with the old rotted furniture. Omar said he was shocked things were quiet, but he didn’t believe they’d stay that way. “They’ll come back, believe that.” I didn’t. One of the things I had taken to doing about halfway through my shift was to walk the hotel. For one, it was nice to leave my office and stretch my legs. Secondly, it was good to have non-security employees walk the floors, so people know someone is always around if they need help. Finally, you really get to know your hotel when you walk the grounds. All the little alcoves and hiding spots. Places where you can add a vending machine or where kids would hide from security, or where you should put a camera. GI Joe told us, “Knowledge is power,” and I always trusted the Joes. Last week it seemed like the world was caving in at work. Everyone goes through those times when it feels like all you gotta do is stand up to keep going, but some pissed-off God keeps sending hurricane winds to knock you back to Earth. That was me last week. We had a power glitch on Monday that screwed up the air conditioner units. Some floors got blasted with AC, and others got none. On Tuesday, someone busted the lock on the side door on the ground floor, which anyone could walk into. Wednesday, our credit card system went down for a few hours and caused havoc with check-ins and check-outs. It was a mess. “Ghosts are back,” Omar told me on Thursday night. “Not ghosts, gremlins. We’re being besieged by gremlins,” I said with a sigh. “Nah, Gizmo was cool. This is ghosts.” “Ghosts broke the lock on the door? Ghosts busted the AC unit?” “Could’ve,” Omar said with a shrug, “anything’s possible.” “Not that,” I said. Omar shrugged, “Until it happens to you, everyone thinks that.” “Honestly, I’d love to blame ghosts. At least then I’d have a reason why we’re having this run of bad luck.” “Careful what you wish for, bro,” Omar said. Changing gears, he gave me a big smile, “We’re gonna go grab some Taco Bell. You want anything?” “Aren’t you suppose to do your rounds now?” “I did it earlier. I’m due for my break. You want something or nah?” “Of course I want something,” I said with a smile. “The usual?” “Yeah,” I said, handing him over some cash. He nodded and pocketed it. “New guy Martin is watching the cameras. He’s good for a few.” “I’ll take your word for it.” “Thanks, chief,” Omar said with a fist bump. “Be back in a few.” He headed out, and I plopped back down in my chair. I knew I shouldn’t eat anything late at night, let alone Taco Bell. Still, a spicy potato taco and a chicken quesadilla would be the calming balm I needed to take the edge off this shitty week. I spun in my chair, trying to center myself when I heard a knock at the office door. “Damn, was there no line at the Bell or what?” I said before looking up. It wasn’t Omar. It was Gwen. She worked the front desk and was probably my most capable employee. She could run this place in my stead, and there would be no noticeable drop-off. If Gwen was in here, something was amiss. “Sorry, Gwen,” I said, ceasing my spinning, “Omar went to Taco Bell.” “Oh, I know. I got a bean burrito.” “A classic,” I said for reasons I’m still not sure of. “What’s up?” “Umm, someone from the second floor was complaining about noises in the hallway.” “Okay,” I said, “Did you call Security?” “Yeah, but Martin...well, I think he accidentally shut off the whole system. He’s kind of flipping out. Not sure he’s the face we want in front of the customers at the moment.” I sighed. *Of course.* “Okay. I’ll go take a look,” I said, standing up. “Do you have a walkie I can borrow? Mine’s still charging.” “Sure,” she said, “Lemme go grab it.” A few minutes later, I left the lobby for the second floor. Now, the second floor is a bit of a misnomer because our second floor is actually at street level. In most modern hotels, the entire street-level floor would be just a lobby, bar, and ballroom, but the Pullman isn’t like most buildings. Our second floor is comprised of a small lobby and hotel rooms. Our ballrooms and bar are below street level, or the first floor as our elevator calls it. Below that is the basement, where the laundry and other hotel operations are located. Why the wonky labeling system? Well, when the building was first built, they took to calling the basement the first floor and the street level the second. Why? Well, the guy who first made the building had some weird beliefs about numbers and the stars or some such nonsense. I think the bars were built in the basement because of Prohibition, but I could never confirm that. I asked the new owner about it once, but it seemed he didn’t know either. He told me he wasn’t going to change anything because he didn’t want to “anger the spirits of the previous owners.” He was another Omar. If it were up to me, hotel operations would be the “subbasement,” the first floor would be the “basement,” and the second floor would be the “main.” Ya know, a common sense approach to everything. But, alas, I’m just the night manager. Those decisions happen way above my pay grade. The Pullman is an architecturally pretty building on the outside but it’s also just a big square. I figured I’d start where the guests had first heard the disturbance and make the walk until I came back to where I started. Along the way, I’d check the doors to ensure they were working properly. Hopefully, Omar would come back and fix the cameras, and we would catch whoever was running around. When I opened the door to the floor, I felt the cold piping in. The second was one of those cold floors the broken AC was assaulting. At times, the AC seemed to shift, which floor was cold and which wasn’t. The tech we had out on Monday had never seen the kind of behavior we had but assumed it had something to do with the computer system. We were still waiting for a computer specialist to come take a look at the software. In the meantime, I would freeze on the second floor. I started humming along to a Phoebe Bridgers song (*Savior Complex*, for those keeping score at home) as I strolled to the room that had made the distress call. I hesitated to knock on their door, but I knew they were still up. I rapped on the door and waited a few minutes. I could hear the people inside shuffling and murmuring. I was pretty sure I had just interrupted sex or the prelude to sex. The door cracked open to a shirtless, disheveled man who was none too pleased to see me. “What?” “Sorry to bother you, I know it’s late, but you called about the noise, correct?” “Yeah, Colombo, you solved it.” I forced a smiled and continued, “I was wondering if you could tell me where the noise was located.” “The hallway, like I said to the broad upfront.” “Yes, but, like, what was the noise? Running? Voices? Shouting?” “All of it,” the man said, “back and forth for ten straight minutes.” “What were they saying?” “I dunno,” he said, looking agitated, “I had a hard time making out anything. Some bullshit, I’m sure. Sounded like dumb-ass kids.” “Okay,” I said. “People don’t know how to take care of their fuck prizes these days,” he said. I heard the woman he was with admonishing him for the colorful expression of “children.” He grinned and shook his head. “She hates when I talk like that...ain’t that right, doll?” “I’ll leave you two alone. Thanks for your….” The man shut the door in my face. I took that as my cue to go and find the fabled “fuck prizes” roaming my hotel halls. I was sure if it was kids, they would be back in their rooms by now. It was late in the evening, and even the most unaware parents made sure their kids got to sleep. Regardless, it was my job to walk the chilly hallways of my Hoth hotel and find these rogue tauntauns. I turned the first corner of the big square and heard someone whispering in front of me. I stopped and cocked my ear in the direction of the whispers. They suddenly ceased. I faked walking a few steps and stopped to hear if the voices would start up again, but they didn’t. I started walking again, continuing to whistle my way through Phoebe Bridger’s Punisher album, when I heard what sounded like four or five footsteps running down the next hallway. I ran to the corner in time to see the stairwell door close. Whoever was there was trying to hide on the stairs. Or that’s what they wanted me to think. This wasn’t my first rodeo, and I knew kids always tried to pull a fast one on adults. Especially adults that were in an authority position. I suddenly shuttered at the thought that I was considered an “authority figure.” I felt my youth tip over and start to spill out of me at that moment. Just then, from the door at the end of the hall, I saw a figure move. Now, these doors lead to the outside and are made with frosted glass, so I couldn’t make out details, but I believed it was probably some of the kids trying to do an end around. The game was on. “Is Omar back?” I asked into the walkie. Static, and then I heard the unsure Martin respond, “He’s not. He’s, ugh, in the bathroom, I think.” “Martin, I know he went to Taco Bell. You don’t have to cover for him.” “Oh,” the voice came back, “then no, he’s stuck behind a lady he thinks is ordering everything on the menu.” “Great,” I sighed, “any chance those security cameras are up and working again?” “I, uh, after I accidentally turned them all off or whatever, I’d feel better just waiting for him,” Martin said. “Sorry, boss. I just don’t want to make things worse.” “I get it,” I said. “Just let me know when Omar gets back, okay?” “Will do,” he said. I looked up at the frosted door at the end of the hall and stared it down. If they had made it outside, they could only get back in through the lobby – these doors locked behind you. I would’ve called Gwen to tell her, but I was holding her walkie. I was sure she’d noticed a gaggle of kids walking in at this hour. I glanced over at the door to the stairs. I knew I should probably check the stairwell because there was a good chance they had darted down the stairs to hide. I would’ve if I was a kid and someone was following me. I was just about to swing open that door when I suddenly remembered another spot they might be hiding that was closer. About ten feet from me was a small alcove where we kept the ice and vending machines. I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve found someone behind the machines trying to vape or get frisky during the night shift. A few times, Omar has found a former guest of the old Pullman trying to break into the vending machines. They wait by the outside doors for smokers and dash in before the door closes. There was a fair to good chance that’s where they were. However, if they were clever and their kid radar worked, they’d spot an even better place to hide. Behind the machines is a hatch for a small crawl space. It’s an access spot for some AC ducts on the first floor. It was a tight fit to get in, but once you got in and down the ladder, there was a lot of room. Granted, it would be pitch black, but that would help if you were hiding. I decided to skip the stairs and head for the vending machines. I took three steps towards it when, from behind, I heard laughing coming from the stairwell. I turned and lunged at the door. I ripped it open, half expecting to see a gaggle of preteen boys (it’s *always* boys) laughing at me. But, instead, I saw nothing. I checked behind the door and even under the landing on the first floor, but I didn’t see hide nor hair of anyone. I was stumped. I knew I had heard a laugh. It just didn’t make any sense. I walked back into the hallway and let the heavy stairwell door slam behind me. “Suck a crow’s cock,” I said out loud. That was the trigger. I suddenly heard someone trying to stifle a laugh. Then two people. Then a group of boys started laughing uncontrollably. It was from behind the vending machines, just like I thought. I walked over there and found four boys red-faced with laughter. “Hey guys,” I said. They started laughing harder. I couldn’t help but smile – it was contagious. Even though I was technically the authority figure here, I was still human. “Was it what I said?” I asked. “Yes!” they all responded. “That’s why I said it,” I lied, “I knew you wouldn’t be able to not laugh. Come on, let’s get out from there.” I moved out of the way and let them slide out from behind the machines. As they were passing, I nodded down at the crawl space hatch. “I’m glad you guys didn’t go down there. I didn’t want to climb down a ladder in the dark.” “We were going to,” the biggest kid said, “but we heard someone down there. We thought it was security.” “There isn’t anyone down there,” I said. “We all heard someone walking and talking down there,” the smallest kid said. “It was probably just the AC making noise. It’s not working correctly. That’s why it’s so cold on this floor,” I said. “It didn’t sound like an AC,” a blond boy said. “It was,” I countered, “where did the kids on the stairs and running around outside go?” They all looked at each other, confused. The big kid was about to respond, but then we all heard footsteps coming down the hall. The kids looked up at me in fear, and for a half-second, I was scared too. “David, are you and your brothers down there?!” The big kid recognized the angry voice. They all did. The jig was up. Mom had arrived on the scene. I stepped out from the vending machines, and the four kids followed behind me. The Mom and I locked eyes. “They were playing hide and go seek,” I said. She ignored me and zeroed in on the small group of boys, “What in the world were you four thinking? Sneaking out of the room and running around the hotel?” “They weren’t too loud,” I said, trying to soften the blow. “Thank you for finding them,” Mom said to me. “I’m sorry if they caused any problems. I can’t believe they snuck out.” “It’s not a problem,” I said, turning on the manager charm. “We all did stupid things as kids.” She feigned a laugh and pointed back towards her room. “Let’s get going, boys. Now.” They all hung their heads and started back towards the room. Mom and I locked eyes again, and she sighed. “Thanks again for being so understanding. Sorry if they ruined your shift.” “Nah, they gave me something to do. Enjoy the rest of your night.” “Thanks, you too,” she said as she turned and joined her four dejected-looking boys. She stared down at them and shook her head. “What am I gonna do with you four, huh?” “Sorry,” they all said in unison. I figured this wasn’t the first time they had done something like this. “Mom,” the littlest boy said, “Do you wanna hear what that hotel guy said about crows?” I turned to leave to avoid any side-eye from Mom for my previous outburst when I heard something bump the wall behind the vending machines. Confused, I thought there might be another rouge group of boys sneaking around. The other boys had said they heard someone down there. I sighed and headed toward the crawl space. I squatted down and put my ear to the cover. I couldn’t be sure, but I thought I heard something moving down there. It was hard to make anything out for sure with the cover on. I knew I would have to remove the hatch to get a better look. I pulled out my multi-tool and unfastened the screws. When all four were out, I gingerly grabbed the hatch cover and pulled it away. As soon as I did, you could feel a blast of cold air coming up from the room below. There had to be a leak in these ducts. I made a mental note to tell the repair guy when they returned. I cocked my ear towards the darkness and listened. I didn’t hear anything now. No shuffling, no talking, nothing. I pulled out my cell and turned on my flashlight. I pointed it down the shaft and onto the floor below. My camera’s light struggled to illuminate much of the area. I leaned my head into the hole to get a better look. That’s when I heard someone start loudly knocking behind me. I tried to rise up but forgot I was leaning into the hole and slammed my head on the hatch opening. I nearly dropped my phone down the shaft to the room, but by the grace of God, I held on. I pulled myself out of the crawl space and from behind the vending machines. Rubbing the back of my head, I glanced down the hallway and saw a figure standing just outside the frosted glass door. I knew I had seen someone outside earlier, and now they were knocking to be let in. My guess was this was another group of kids who realized they had been locked out of the hotel. I started down the hall and pulled my walkie up to ask about the security cameras again when the figure standing outside waved at me. That was when I realized the figure was an adult, and they were trying to get my attention. I waved back and hastened my pace. Someone probably went outside for a smoke and forgot their key. As I said, it happens all the time. I got to the door and cracked it open. There was an older woman, I pegged her in her mid-fifties, standing outside with an embarrassed look on her face. She was wearing vintage clothes that were out of style but looked right on her. She had blonde hair with gray streaks and the most piercing green eyes I’d ever seen. Her face was cherubic and pleasant, but you could see the red of embarrassment coloring her cheeks. “Hey there,” I said, opening the door wide to let her in. “I got turned around,” she said, walking in. “Thank you for helping me.” “No problem. Did you forget your key?” “Yes,” she said. “If I had a dime for every time someone stepped outside for a smoke and forgot their key, I could retire.” “I’d love to retire,” she said with a faint smile. “What do you do, if you don’t mind me asking?” From behind me, the door to the stairwell slammed shut. I spun around, hoping to catch who was playing on the stairs, but I didn’t see anyone. There might still be another group of kids out here. “Is this the Pullman?” the woman asked. “Yes,” I said, confused. “Looks so different.” “We just went through major renovations,” I offered, “have you stayed here before?” “Oh yes, many years ago.” “We tried to keep some of the charm of the old place but update it. How did we do?” She didn’t respond at first. I thought maybe she hadn’t heard me, but when I looked at her, she looked lost. Like, I could see her eyes, but they were dulled. I wondered if she had a mental illness and maybe was off her meds. I knew the state-run hospitals made a habit of dropping off discharged patients in this area. “Are you feeling okay?” I asked, softening my voice. That question didn’t seem to penetrate her shields either. I was about to call for help when she finally stopped drifting and righted her course. “I’ve seen so many things,” she finally said, not breaking her gaze with mine, “So many horrible things.” *Drugs*. She was probably on drugs as well. It made the most sense. She said she was familiar with the Pullman but hadn’t been here in a while. Maybe she used to score at the old place and had been away for a time. I had to be careful because you never know how an addict might respond. Especially if they were mentally ill and off medication. “Hopefully not here,” I said in as light a tone as I could muster. “There are so many dark things here,” she said, looking lost again. “I feel drawn to them. It’s why I stay here.” “Is there someone I can call to help you?” She started laughing. It came on small, like a joke that took a minute to land, but then grew into a full-on fit. She doubled over and held her stomach, and laughed. I took a step back and started scanning the hallways for some help or a way out of there. Then she stopped as if someone had flipped a switch. She looked at me and shot me a warm smile. “Is Wallace still here at this time of night?” “I...I don’t know of any Wallace that works here,” I said. “Did he used to work at the hotel when you used to come?” “He owned the place.” I had known the names of the previous two owners, and neither was named Wallace. I wasn’t sure if anyone who had ever owned this place was named Wallace. I was sure I was dealing with a mentally unwell person at that point. I wanted to ensure they got the help they needed. I also needed to get them out of my hotel before something bad happened. Bad PR could kill a new place as quick as a bullet. “Maybe we can see if we can find him in our directory up front,” I said. “Can you follow me to the lobby?” “So many people died here,” she said. “Wallace hurt so many people.” I didn’t know what to say. While my brain searched for a response, I heard the squawk of my walkie coming to life. A familiar voice came across the walkie. It was Omar. “Hey boss, what’s going on?” I pulled up my walkie and smiled at the woman. “Give me a second,” I told her before I took a few steps away, turned my back to her, and pressed the button to respond. “About time you got back, Omar.” “Blame Taco Bell. Who are you talking to?” “Someone that may or may not be a guest in the hotel. I might need you down here to help.” “Boss, what are you talking about?” “What don’t you understand? You see us, right? You fixed the security cameras?” “Yeah, but….” “So what are you confused about? I need help with this lady. She may be lost or,” I whispered, “mentally ill or on drugs or something. She seems out of it. I’m afraid she might get….” Omar cut me off. “Boss, there isn’t anyone there with you.” The air went out of the room. I felt my skin go prickly all over. My head felt fuzzy, like I had just done whip-its. My mouth had dried in an instant, and my tongue felt foreign in my mouth. “What are you….” “I was calling to ask if you were okay because you’re talking to yourself.” “Omar, I was talking to….” I turned back and saw an empty hallway. I glanced in both directions but didn’t see a trace of the person that had been standing there. The hair on the back of my neck stood up. “Boss? You okay?” Omar’s voice sounded a million miles away. I thought I might black out. None of this made sense. My legs started to wobble, but I caught myself. I looked around again, but it was futile. I was alone in the hallway. “There are so many dark things here,” I heard a disembodied voice say. It sounded like it was coming from all around me. Then, right next to my ear, the woman whispered, “So many people were *hurt*.” Then I heard footsteps run down the hall away from me. Not just a pair, but what sounded like dozens. They pounded on the ground, sounding like a herd of elephants on the march. Then I heard the laughter again. I stood, frozen in place, unable to process anything. I heard a room door whip open and saw the pissed-off man I spoke to earlier come bursting into the hallway. He was completely naked, and it was apparent his good time had been interrupted, but now he had a look of murder in his eyes. He saw me at the other end of the hallway and yelled, “Catch these fuckin’ kids and keep quiet! I’m tryin’ to ball my old lady in….” Just then, he was violently pushed back into his room by some unseen force. Something cackled as the naked man tumbled to the ground. His door slammed shut by itself, and I was sure he wouldn’t come back out...or at all, if I’m being honest. The vending machine suddenly tipped over and slammed into the ground with a glass-shattering crunch. I saw the cover to the crawl space opening fly out and slam into the opposite wall. “Oh shit,” I heard Omar say, but I didn’t hear anything else. I dropped the walkie and took off in a full sprint in the opposite direction. I didn’t stop running until I hit the security office. Omar was smiling as I walked in. “I told you!” he said, pointing at the screen. “This place is haunted as *fuck*!” I watched the footage and saw what Omar had told me about. I was standing alone in the hallway, talking to no one. I felt sick to my stomach. I decided to take the rest of the shift off. I went home and stayed up for the rest of the night, afraid to sleep. When I felt better, I started looking into the hotel’s past. Turns out, the original owner of the Pullman was an eccentric named Wallace Hosiah. He made his money in the whiskey trade and liked to imbibe himself. The problem was he turned mean when he drank. When Prohibition hit, he poured his money into the hotel but never let his liquor connections go. Rumors were that he was mobbed up, and the Pullman was used as a final destination for many men and women who ran afoul with gangsters or Wallace himself. One of his alleged victims was his mistress. I saw a photo of her...it was the woman I spoke to that night. When I take my walks around the Pullman now, I do it when Omar does his rounds. Not that two people would be able to do anything if a ghost appeared and got violent, but we Americans love the illusion of safety. Even though my rational brain has a hard time accepting there are ghosts in this world, I know what I went through. I saw, spoke, and interacted with a person who simply wasn’t there. I think I need a raise.

A message changed my life but I don’t know how to feel about it

y7ng1a

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y7ng1a/a_message_changed_my_life_but_i_dont_know_how_to/

“From thestaronthesky5 To: rebeccaisurmom32 Good morning. I know that we haven’t met but my husband talked to me about you My name is Adeline and I am the CEO of AMA pharmaceutics. I'm writing to you because my husband heard from some colleague that you had some kind of sickness that the doctors hadn't been able to identify. What I'm trying to say is that we are interested in running some tests if you are up to it. You won't have to pay anything, we would pay you $853.000 for the possible inconveniences that could happen If you are interested please write to the following number: Xxxxxxxxxx Have a good rest of the day Att: Adeline Morley” That was the first thing I saw when I took my phone after the medical appointment. To give a little background, my name is Catalina and I have been sick since I was born. At first, the doctors thought that I wouldn’t make it the first week, but here I am, 25 years and still alive. If you can call this life. The symptoms that I experiment with every day go from headaches to me fainting in the middle of my class. The doctors don’t know what is wrong with me so there isn’t much they can do to help except give me medicine for the pain. That's why I texted the number that was in the mail. At this point, I would take any chance that someone could give me. And they are offering me money? I would do it for free but I'm not complaining about the money. To: Xxxxxxxxxx Hi, I am Catalina Harmon. I am writing in response to the e-mail from Adeline Morley telling me about some kind of tests they want to run about me and my illness. I am really interested in it and I want to know the details of the situation. Within 5 minutes a response came to my phone. From: Xxxxxxxxxx Good morning Catalina, I am Adeline. I'm pretty glad you want to do it. I'll send you an e-mail with all the information so you can take a look at it and then write me a confirmation. I looked at my e-mail and there it was. To keep this short, it said that they would transfer half of the payment before the tests and the other half after. They wanted me to go to the principal lab of the pharmaceutics tomorrow at 6 pm and that I couldn't tell anyone about it for some kind of privacy clause. I found that weird but at this point, I think it is worth the risk. In the worst scenario, I would die. I sent a confirmation and continued with my day. When I was heading to the lab I received an e-mail from a girl telling me not to go, that they have made something horrible to her and that it wasn't worth it. I blocked the number. When I arrived a guy received me and took me to a waiting room. After 20 minutes a woman (that I guessed was Adeline) met me with a hug and guided me to another room. There was something weird about the situation but I just kept going. When I entered what looked like a consulting room, a man appeared and made me sign some papers in case i “died”. I have to admit, I was starting to regret my decision but when I went to tell them that I didn't want to do it anymore, Adeline injected me with something and I fell asleep very quickly. When I woke up I was naked and tied to the bed. I. Freaked. The. Fuck. Out I started screaming but a voice from a speaker on the wall said that I agreed to that when I signed the papers and that they were going to fix me. What. The. Fuck Everything went dark and then something bright entered through a door at the back of the room. It came close to me but I couldn't see what it was or what was happening. It started touching me everywhere. And when I say everywhere I mean it. I started crying, I felt gross and just wanted to leave. Because the bright thing had human fingers. I started screaming again, trying to scare the thing but it kept going. After what felt like an eternity (but could perfectly have been only 3 minutes) it stopped, looked at the speaker, and told something I didn't understand because it wasn't in English. It left the room, the lights went on again and a group of three people entered the room. 2 men I didn't know and Adeline. Keep in mind that I was naked, tied, and absolutely terrified. They told me something I didn't understand but because I was freaking out. After some time they realized that and injected me with something to make me sleep. I woke up in a hospital room. When I asked what happened they told me I had been in a car accident 6 days ago and had pretty bad wounds but that I would live. I remembered everything but I know that I couldn't say a thing because no one would believe me. My regular doctor came in the room and told me that some kind of miracle have happened because all my tests that used to be really bad, now looked perfect. No one knew hoy did it happen, but I had an idea. Do you believe in aliens? No? Well, now I do. I know that I didn't hallucinate it and I also knew that the thing that touched me, wasn't human. It was something else. It's been 5 years since the “accident” and since then I haven't experienced a single headache. I have been able to do things that I have only dreamed of. Now I can run, jump and swim. Some nights I have nightmares about what happened and sometimes it feels so real that I have to go to the bathroom to vomit. One time I dreamed that I woke up and that shiny thing was there with me. Inside me. I'm sick of those nightmares but at least I am healthy. And I don't know how to feel about it.

Life On The Road (Part 3) Some Hotel Rooms Have Creepy Crawlies.

y76oyl

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y76oyl/life_on_the_road_part_3_some_hotel_rooms_have/

(First: https://redd.it/xuwj9d Previous: https://redd.it/y1nqg2) In order to fund my nomadic life, I took requests from a Corporation that deal with things out of the norm. They offered a job that paid a small amount to stay in a hotel room for a night or two to see if anything strange happened. They would cover hotel costs and room service if I ordered any. On the upside, I would have a bed for a night, a decent meal, and access to a shower. One of the only things I missed about not having a real home was being unable to bath whenever I wanted. Some people have suggested I buy a RV. At the start of my journey, I got a one second hand. Through some very strange turn of events, it exploded. The second and third one did not fare as well as the first. I gave up buying them knowing they would not last in my care. It felt like I was adopting shelter cats only to let them outside for coyotes or other animals to eat them. No, I could only seem to live out of my car and random rooms I found along the way. My theory was a RV or a camper could be a home. I could never see my car as a real home, so it was spared from my odd curse that forced me to travel. I accepted the offer of the room and drove to the location. The hotel was connected to a very large casino and appeared to better than most of the places I’ve stayed at recently. I waited in line and had some issues checking in. The room already been paid for and in my name, but the man behind the desk didn’t believe I was the Adelaide that should be staying in the room until I showed him a few sets of I.Ds. “Do your parents know that Adelaide is a girl’s name?” He asked trying to defend why he refused to believe a man of my age had that as a first name. “I’ll call them and ask.” I said making a show of taking out my phone and then pausing. “Oh, wait they’re dead.” That normally shut people up and ended the conversation. I rarely brought out the dead parents line and only used it if the person was rude to start with. I remained pleasant accepting my card key and wished the suddenly meek desk clerk a good night. I found my room on the fourth floor wondering if it might be worth it going to the casino. I didn’t have that much disposable cash and figured the chance of winning anything wasn’t worth the trip back downstairs. The room looked fine; a bit larger than I expected. It had a sitting area and the bed separated by a wall. The bathroom large with a shower and a hot tub, or are they called something else if they were indoors? Either way I hadn’t been able to afford something like this on my own dime for a long while. That tub looked so tempting. But I’d been sent here to investigate anything strange going on. The tub could wait until I knew if it was safe to let my guard down. I’d been told very little about the job. A few people had stayed in this room and experience odd sounds at night. Some woke up with swollen bites they suspected to come from spiders or a different type of insect. After each report the room got cleaned top to bottom with no signs of any creepy crawly creatures lurking in the corners of the room. I was shocked something this minor even got on The Corporation’s radar. Maybe they found something that hinted at a more supernatural danger besides people being nipped at in bed. I checked over the entire room a few times to find nothing of note. Not even dust bunnies under the bed. The long drive starting to get to me. If something appeared ready to eat my legs, I would deal with it when it happened. I wanted to sleep but first needed to get cleaned up a little. I often went a few days between shaving and hated how scruffy my face started to look. My hair also got pretty long. I spent some time getting my face back in order. I tempted fate to take a quick shower hoping nothing was inside that room that my human eyes couldn’t see. I didn’t want some sort of ghost of monster seeing me in such a venerable state. I didn’t even order food that night. I went right to bed just as the sun started to set. I needed the rest and it felt nice to be in a bed that wasn’t bumpy or worn down by countless other people sleeping on it. I only had this room for two nights. Might as well enjoy it. I’ve never been a heavy sleeper. Any noise in the night tends to wake me up. Anything nibbling on my leg bound to make me jump awake and toss the sheets off trying to find the source of the pain and I did just that. My leg stinging from where something crawled over to take a little taste. I left the bedside lamp on in case something like that happened. In the low light I noticed a black shape moving quickly off the bed. I jumped up and flicked on the other lights, then pulled the rest of the sheets off the bed trying to find anything else hiding in them. I then got on the floor to look under the bed to try and find whatever small thing ran off when I woke up. My mind might have been playing tricks on me. I checked my leg to find a small red marker showing that wasn’t the case. I paused searching when a noise came from the bathroom. One so faint, I didn’t think I heard it. I needed to pause breathing to hear better. I didn’t dare going near the other room or even moving a muscle. From under the closed door came a black shape. It quickly ran across the carpet and close enough for me to identify it. I slowly let out the air from my lungs while watching a black millipede run under the bed and into the darkness. The shiny body disappearing the moment another came from under the door. More started to join the first and I decided it was a good time to start moving. I started off quickly but the bugs swarmed faster. Each step an awkward dance trying not to crush the insects in my mad dash to the door. I got as far as the open doorway and made the mistake of glancing over my shoulder. In a flash a much larger shape came from the dark bathroom, bursting the door open, cracking the wood. It crawled along the ceiling, long body swiftly trailing behind. I got cut off when the creature went above my head and stuck fast against the door and only way out. I turned on my heel towards the sitting area. I thought I may have a chance jumping out the window. Being splattered against the pavement sounded better than being eaten in that moment. A hand caught my shirt. I knew I wouldn't be making it through the night alive even before my body got tossed on the stiff couch so hard it broke the small wooden legs. My head swimming in pain I had a second before the nightmare set in. The creature hovered over me and in an instant wrapped a long black body around my own in a crushing squeeze to tight my right arm snapped. I muffled a scream of pain trying to stay focused to see what suddenly attacked. The monster’s bottom half was identical to the black millipedes that started to fill the room. Only much, much larger. The body thicker than my own and so many feet long. With it wrapped around myself and constantly moving it was impossible to guess just how long this thing was. The upper half looked like a normal human's besides the pitch-black arms. Each finger covered in a hard jointed shell and tipped with claws. A pile of black tangled hair blocked the face of the monster. It shook some hair aside showing half the face underneath. Fighting through the pain, I glanced at the face with a hinged jaw filled with teeth, to the torso with skin so tight it showed ribs. I would be this monster’s first meal in a while. The body kept moving around my own, the legs never stopping. The tightness let up and my arm hurt slightly less. I still didn’t have any chance of escaping; my mind grasping at anything to try and get free. The smaller millipedes made their way over to crawl across my face, tickling a little. I honestly wasn’t scared of bugs. If I didn’t have a broken arm or a monster staring at me like a four-course meal, I would have found the millipedes cute. But I was seconds away from being eaten and my brain went blank from fear. I only wondered why I was still alive. “Who sent you?! What were you looking for?!” The creature hissed, in a voice that almost sounded too young for his body. Then again, monsters lived for thousands of years. He may have an adult body and still be a child age wise. That explained why he didn’t just eat me already. If I told him, he had no more use for me. If I didn’t, I risked getting eaten anyway. A no win situation and I figured the truth couldn't hurt. “A Corporation that deals with supernatural things asked me to look at this room.” I said and got interrupted. “An agent?!” He growled. The body got tighter and I couldn’t breathe for a few seconds. I shook my head, knocking some of the crawling millipedes off. He released his grip so I could explain. “Not an agent. Just hired help.” I gasped. I started to feel dizzy. The pain in my arm turned my stomach and I couldn’t expand my chest enough to get in enough air. At least the constant moving legs weren’t unpleasant. I should be freaked out by being touched by huge bug legs, but I didn’t mind them. They were almost cute in a way. “Where did you even come from anyway? I didn’t see any traces of magic when I arrived.” I asked thinking if I kept talking, I may buy some time. “The space between worlds is weak in this room. I found it. This hunting spot it mine! If I eat you than there won’t be anyone to report back about what you have found here!” I’ve heard a little bit about the whole other worlds thing. I wasn’t certain of how many there were out there. The things the lurked in the night lived in those other worlds and could cross int ours by using magic. The monsters that were more removed from reason and logic lived in further worlds. Thankfully all of the worlds where the monsters lived that could rip apart out small planet cost too much energy to travel between, or been sealed away in order for them to never gain access to our small existence. Creatures like the millipede hybrid were fairly common and lived in a world so close they required little to no magic to travel over. That explained why I’d been called over to look at the room. The Corporation must have known how close the two worlds lined up here, otherwise they wouldn’t have cared about a few reports of bug bites. I went over all of that in my head to try and ignore the hybrid getting ready to tear my body apart. The monster straightened up to use both hands to push back the tangled mess of hair from his face. His mouth getting even longer, if that was possible, and eyes turning jet black. His face shifted from an almost normal one to a monstrous thing from anyone’s nightmares. He let out a hiss behind sharp teeth extending pass his mouth. Those eyes looked down expecting a reaction he didn’t get. “Oh? Too scared to scream human? Is this face of mine too much for your mind to handle?” He mocked. Since I started travelling, I've seen some pretty messed up things. Even the slight memories of those things made my heart want to stop. And after coming across all sorts of monster and supernatural creatures I found out something I never wanted to. That you could be afraid and deeply in love at the same time. My body screamed to run but my mind made my heart beat from seeing the sharp teeth and dark eyes. The tips of the ever-moving legs brushed against my face and I didn’t flinch from them. Was this monster terrifying and going to eat me? Yes. Was he down right cute in a little brother sort of way? Regretfully, also yes. I didn’t feel attracted to him in a romantic sense after seeing his full face. Just saw him like a good neighborhood kid that needed to be taken care of and protected. I hated the idea of those teeth sinking into my flesh but accepted it was going to happen. After seeing how starved his body looked, I almost felt glad he finally got to eat something. “You’re... actually kind of cute.” I admitted. That wasn’t the right answer. It's never the right answer around monsters. They didn’t know how to deal with a human not running and screaming from them. When a person didn’t act scared, it tended to confuse them, making the creatures lash out. Those teeth came down and my blood sprayed over the creature’s face. I thrashed, trying to get away from the pain. I hated dying. Just because I woke up afterwards didn’t mean I wanted to go through the pain and fear. Being eaten sucked. I don’t think words have been invented that could fully explain just how painful that experience feels. At least he was kind enough to go for the throat to make me bleed out pretty fast. I fell into a cold darkness waiting for sunrise. That black void always there after I died. I didn’t know if this is what everyone went through after death and sincerely prayed it wasn’t. I didn’t feel anything but a sheer cold. My body unmovable and I doubted it was still there. I only remained in that dark space for a few hours and yet every time it felt like centuries. A crack of light came to my eyes, pulling me out of the dark and back to where I died. I gasped, coughing and rolled off the stiff couch. Some millipedes nearly were crushed under my body. I carefully moved around them, trying not to kill the poor things. No matter how hard I tried, one or two always stayed crawling somewhere on me so I let them instead of trying to win a losing battle of getting them all off. The room covered in them with only enough space on the floor for careful steps. The noise of them crawling around made my nerves tense, but overall, I wasn’t too scared of the small army. I could have gotten to the door in time and escape. I considered it. My job was done. I need to confirm something supernatural went on or not and I got a very clear answer. I took a step every few seconds. I needed to gently push away some millipedes with my foot to make some progress across the room. I stopped by the bedroom doorway, looking inside and finding a large shape curled up in a ball in the bed. Pretty bold of him to stay in this room after eating someone The Corporation sent. I didn’t want to consider he got tired after the first good meal in ages and needed to rest afterwards. In his sleep, he sensed someone else in the room. Before I knew the creature was awake, he sprang up. Long body uncurling and he skittered up the wall to press into a corner near the ceiling. His eyes wide and confused under his mess of hair looking down on the person he killed a few hours ago. “Are you... that man’s twin...?” He asked slowly trying to understand who I was and how I got there. “No, I can die and come back.” I answered and we went into a stalemate. Since encountering creatures and magic, I found out one truth that not even magic went against. Nothing came back from death. As far as anyone knew, there was no power in this world or any other that could do what happened every time I died. “A twin with bad jokes then.” The monster concluded not moving from his spot. “Sure whatever. Come down so we can talk.” I offered trying to get him to calm him. “It I eat you, are more twins going to arrive? Some of my siblings did not eat enough last night and I would greatly like to see just how many meals we can get out of you.” His dark eyes behind tangled hair actually made him scary for a few moments. I did not want to be eaten again and nearly made a run for it thinking about that outcome. I needed to stay though. At least for a little while. I steadied myself, hating what I needed to do. “You can eat me after we talk, alright? This is important. But you should really have a bath first. Your hair looks terrible. Seriously, when was the last time you washed it?” I’d met creatures similar to him before. They looked as monstrous as they should considering their form, but also took great care of their hair. It was a shame his long black hair hung in a knotted mess. His hand went to a long strand for a moment considering what I asked. “I do not know how to get water in this place.” He admitted. “Come into the bathroom. I’ll show you.” To my surprise, he slowly went down the wall and across the floor to follow me. I debated on the shower or the tub. I didn’t want to have to talk over the noise of the shower and the tub could fit at least most of his long insect body. I turned on the tap to start filling it with hot water and then looked for some shampoo. I found a small bottle, not enough for his hair. I sat thinking with the monster in the same room. His eyes on my back wanting to attack at any second. He'd gotten a taste of human. With one sitting in the same room utterly defenceless, it was tempting to have another meal. “I need to go to the store downstairs to buy some stuff. I can bring back some snacks too. Is there anything you like?” I offered and the creature was on top of me in a second. His heavy body pressed down and face twisted in a snarl. My pulse jumped making me almost scream at suddenly being face to face with this monster. “Do you think I’m stupid enough to fall for that?” He hissed, cheeks turning red at the insult. “I can take a millipede with me. You’ll be able to find me again if I had one, right?” I said thinking back to some vague information I heard before about creature very similar to this one. With there being so many different monsters all with their own rules and powers, most of the time trying to understand their abilities was guess work based on what other creatures you've come across. Guessing could be a dangerous thing and I found most people who deal with monster specialize in one type, if possible. “Yes... I suppose. They do appear to be insects from your world but are much stronger. You should not be able to harm one but if you do, I’ll find you. I won’t be as kind as I was last night. I’ll tear open a small hole and let my siblings eat you from the inside.” That was a terrifying idea. I raised my hands, sweat started on my forehead from stress making me look harmless. The creature believed I wasn’t trying to make an attempt to flee. I knew I would be eaten again; it was just a matter of when it happened. I needed to play it safe to put the pain off for as long as possible. With a wiggling insect tucked in my pocket, I left the room. I didn’t spend that much time outside. Just long enough to buy some shampoo and food from the little store next to the casino then headed back to the room. If I wanted, I could have called in a few connections to come over and save my life. But I went back inside, the millipedes hiding for a few seconds when a human entered, then crawled out comfortable I was the person they nibbled on the night before. I went into the bathroom to find the monster in the tub and water overflowing. His long body always moving but upper half staying in the water. The water spilled over into the drain set in the tiled floor so I didn’t turn the tap off. I took off my socks and let my pants get soaked when I sat next to the tub. “Here, try this. It's sweet.” I told him holding out a honeybun I bought downstairs. He looked at me suspiciously. Monsters don’t use money but rather exchanged time, information and favors. Getting something for free nearly unheard of with them. I needed to tell him I was human and therefore the whole giving him food for nothing was a gesture a part of my culture. He accepted the idea and took the treat after I unwrapped it for him. “What’s your name?” I asked watching the monster shove the pastry in his mouth. Yeah, he was cute. I didn’t think too many people would share that opinion though. “Malt...y...” He answered hesitating to say his full name for a moment. I couldn’t help myself. My face lit up hearing such a cute name. His answer flared up, long body thrashing in the water causing it to splash over covering the bath room for a moment. The millipedes stayed out of the bathroom but I saw them wriggling around the doorway, threatening to come inside to eat the person who upset their brother. “It means something important in my language!” He hissed, ready for a fight. “Mine’s Adelaide. I’ve had a rough time because it’s a girl's name and people think guys shouldn’t have cute names.” I explained fully understanding his reaction. He calmed down, and the slight hissing coming from the mass of insects in the other room quieted. Malty let me get to washing his hair after we bounded over names. I found a comb and got to work trying to untangle the mess it became while rinsing the long black hair with shampoo. This would take hours but at least he wasn’t tearing my body apart. “You English is pretty good. Did someone teach it to you?” I asked as I worked. “My mother was human. I lived with her for a few years.” I wasn’t expecting him to be a half breed. I’ve seen a monster identical to him before and he was a full-blooded monster. Half breeds are difficult to spot due to body adjusting to their environment. If he grew up in the other world, he would have become a creature exactly the same as full breeds. If he grew up here alongside humans, he might have shifted to having regular human legs without any way of getting his other form back. I assumed his mother died or else she might have raised him. The insects in the other room most likely full-blooded creatures from a different mother. “Are you the same person I ate last night? Not a twin?” Malty asked after a while of silence between us. I didn’t know how I wanted to answer his question. If I said yes, he may see me as an endless food supply. I would be powerless if he took me the other world to keep himself and his family fed until he died, or until another monster took his food away. I also didn’t want to say yes to give him hope there were ways of bringing back the dead. For some reason, I trusted him to not steal me away. At least not right then. “Yes. I don’t know how or why I come back. I just do.” I explained unsure if he accepted the answer. For him, unanswered question was normal. Sometimes things just didn’t make sense no matter how much one wanted them to. Supernatural creatures understood that. He nodded and then hissed when I pulled at a bad knot. At least we were getting somewhere with his hair. “You got lucky. If I was an agent or someone else, they would have fought back. You really shouldn't be hunting here. You should contact The Corporation and-” He sprang up again, his face monstrous and his rage clear. His body grew even larger and took up most of the space, each leg tapping hard against the tiles. “I shall not side with the ones who took away my family for no reason!” The creature shouted, causing the mirrors on the far side of the room to shake. So that’s what happened. His mother dead, his father killed by agents. If monsters hunted in the wrong spots or hurt a human, they became targets to be taken down by a company that dealt with protecting humans from creatures. Or The Hunters would find them and kill them regardless if they were dangerous or not. Malty was an older brother trying to protect his younger siblings after their parents died. His thin human half showed he let the others eat before him. I wondered just how much of my body he devoured last night or if he left it for his siblings. “They’ll kill you if you stay here. You can request an approved hunting spot. Forests are always fair game. Why don’t you find one to live in? You can eat injured and lost hikers or any animals you come across.” I offered. Once again, he calmed down. His body returning to the other smaller shape and sinking down into the over full tub. Malty assumed I wasn’t scared of his other form and didn’t want to waste the energy to stay puffed up. I was scared of him. Terrified, but I had enough practice to not let it show in my voice. My hands shook slightly when I got back to trying to tame his wild hair. “I can’t go any forest. My siblings would be eaten by something. Too many threats in the trees. I need to protect them.” He said with a long-tired sigh. “I understand how you feel but isn’t that a bit unfair? How come you can hunt and kill others but they can’t do the same with you? I always thought your kind never had any issues with that sort of thing.” I mentioned. He glared up and then sank down into the water to blow angry bubbles. I was right and he knew it. Didn’t change how he felt. I let him pout and thought of my few connections. He might not like the suggestion but he should take it. Monster that could rip me apart or not, I didn’t want to see him killed for just being born a certain kind of creature. Our hands became forced and our conversation ended before I knew it would be. Malty flared up again, face twisted in fear but also trying to make himself appear menacing. I stood up after hearing a knock at the front door. If it was just room service the monster would not have reacted in the way he did. I whispered to him to calm down and I would handle it. He stayed on the ceiling, body moving and twisting. His siblings already disappeared to somewhere or found a spot to hide. I walked over to the door, clothing soaked from washing a monster’s hair. On the other side of the door stood someone who I normally was glad to see. Right now, I really didn’t want him here. He was an agent I’ve worked with a few times and we had an odd working relationship. “340, what are you doing here? I haven’t submitted a report.” I asked him trying to sound natural. He was a part of a family that had so many brothers they gave up on names and used numbers instead. He looked the way you would think a secret government agent would. Tall, board shoulders and black neatly styled hair. Sunglasses covered his eyes and I couldn’t read his stern expression. Most of his brothers looked pretty much the same but he had a long scar going down his face starting at his forehead and ending a bit under his chin. It ran through his lips, exposing a small hint of teeth. I knew he hated that scar but of course due to my weird tastes made me think it made him look extremely handsome. “We weren’t picking up your phone. I was nearby for a job and came by. Who else is in the room with you?” He asked, tone even and stern. Crap, I didn’t even check my phone when I woke up. 340 was one of the rare people who knew I came back after dying. He didn’t like it and wanted me to avoid such a thing as often as possible. He had good senses and knew a monster was in my room. If he found out Malty killed me then he would be deemed dangerous and 340 needed to arrest him in the very least. I could feel the millipede creature waiting to attack from inside the room. This had the chance of turning very ugly very fast. I doubted a half-starved creature against an agent would end in a weaker creature’s favor. I needed to do something or else one of them were going to be killed. “Malty. He's a millipede and a good boy. He's protecting all of his younger siblings and came through here looking for food. He doesn’t know who to contact about getting an approved hunting spot through The Corporation.” I said quickly. I knew 340’s soft spot for his hundreds of younger brothers. He may look stern but was really a big softie for them. Malty let out a noise of betrayal and I ducked inside the room to grab his hand to drag him into 340’s view. This was going to happen either way and I needed to control how the conversation went. “Did he attack you?” 340 asked, his voice low and clearly threatening us not to lie to him. “No.” I easily lied. The millipede hybrid looked between us, confused on why I would say such a thing. When the agent took a step closer, Malty ducked behind me, making me want to hug the poor thing. “There is a long wait on hunting spots. I assume he has not gone to the woods in fear him or his siblings are going to be hunted as well by animals or other creatures.” 340 said and my heart dropped. Now what? This creature would not last long without being able to find a way to get a reliable source of food. 340 saw how I looked down at Malty and saw we were both still dripping water. The agent was smart and he knew me. He put things together and assumed I’d been trying to take care of a monster who easily could over power me. I was dumb like that. “His siblings are other millipedes, correct? And they can travel between weaker part of the worlds? They can be useful for The Corporation. If they apply, they may be hired in order to deliver messages to agents on the field in a more discreet manner than using mailmen or spells. They’ll also not draw much attention so won’t be in much, if any danger on those job requests. I’ve heard that the offices always need workers. If he can read and write, they’ll hire him.” 340 offered. I totally forgot that The Corporation always lacked man power. Hell, that was why I was the one looking into odd reports and not an agent. They didn’t have agents to spare on something so minor. Of course, they would hire Malty and his siblings. They paid pretty well too meaning they wouldn’t need to worry about food for a very long time. “Well...?” I whispered down to the boy hoping he agreed to the job. I didn’t blame him if he wanted to refuse. These were the people who killed his father. Then again, supernatural creatures were normally pretty understanding when it came to that sort of thing. If the murder was justified, they didn’t hold a grudge no matter how much they loved the person that been killed. A long pause came between us as we waited for an answer. “If my siblings are fed, its fine. We can work.” The creature agreed, but still looked scares of the agent in the doorway. With that settled we arranged to have Malty and the others picked up. The millipede creature staying behind long enough to privately speak with me as his other siblings were herded into a magic circle to transport them somewhere safe and away from humans. “If you told him I attacked you, I would be dead by now. I owe you.” Malty said, weary of the agents nearby even though he would need to work with them soon. “Don’t worry about it. It’s just what I do.” The boy looked up at me trying to figure out what to do. Creatures worked on a favor-based system. He couldn’t just not repay the fact I saved his life. But he didn’t need to repay the favor right away. He decided to figure out something at a later date, but I doubt whatever he thought of would ever be enough in his eyes. I said goodbye to him and his little siblings glad he had a future but also glad he didn’t kill me a second time. That would have sucked and make it harder to lie for him. With that sorted I was left with 340 after the others had taken the millipedes away. I knew 340 was well aware of my lie and started to feel nervous with his eyes hidden behind those dark sunglasses staring me down. “We’ll pay for the room for another night for you. I think you’ll get a little bonus for taking care of this in a peaceful manner, but you need to stop doing things like this. If something happens it’s not your job to take care of it. Call in an agent.” He said, sounding a little bit heated at the end. I nodded knowing he was right. I should have called in a professional to handle it, but would they have seen the boy as the small half-starved creature, or a dangerous monster that needed to be put down? I felt a small touch on my arm and looked up to see the agent got closer. Only one of his ginger tips touched my arm, but that was enough. He was a bit taller than myself and he lowered his voice in a way he very rarely did. “Check your phone next time. I got worried.” I nodded again feeling very tempted to take his hand. He backed away returning to his normal stoic agent image. He knew we couldn’t have a relationship besides seeing each other through work because of my own limitations. But we were able to have brief moments like this. His phone rang showing he was overdue for another job. Without too much else to say, he left going back to work. I stayed at the hotel for another night but found it hard to sleep. The room sounded too silent. I tossed and turned and then gave up to spend time in the casino for the rest of the night. My funds going up and down for hours and in the end, I cashed out with enough winnings to buy a new lighter. I smoked on and off and that day felt like a smoking day. I left that hotel behind thinking there was a good chance I’d never see it again. I got lucky this time. I only died once and found a monster a good place to be. The next time I wouldn't be as lucky. In this word, things lurked in each dark corner. Not all of them were caring older brothers that wanted to protect his family. Others were pretty nasty and I risked coming across them next. Still, I picked a random direction to drive in, unaware of what I may come across in the future.

I'm a Trucker for a Shady Organization. I Haul a Portal to Hell, Part 3

y7f60c

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y7f60c/im_a_trucker_for_a_shady_organization_i_haul_a/

[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y6i9ab/im_a_trucker_for_a_shady_organization_i_haul_a/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=android_app&utm_name=androidcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button) Rooming with a marionette contortionist shapeshifting asshole is worse than you'd imagine. "Ci…ci… heeelp…" an almost familiar voice tore me from my dreams. Drawing one of my stolen pistols, I tentatively approached the door. A slithering hiss came from down the hall, then **click** something flicked the hall light on. Dropping to a crouch, a glimmer caught my eye. Something was wedged beneath the door. A scream burst out involuntarily as the object registered. An eye. A single human eye stared up at me. "Heeelp… Cici? Is that you-?" The voice whimpered. Heavy hits as though from a jackhammer began crashing rapid-fire from the opposite side of the door. How the wood was withstanding the force, I didn't know, and in that instant, I didn't care. **BANG! BANG!** Two rounds loosed from my gun, piercing the door and sending splinters out like clouds. Silence fell as I curled up, quivering on my bedroom floor. Before I worked up the courage to inspect the intruder, something mind-numbingly infuriatingly worse broke out. "Kahahaha! Really had ya going there for a minute, didn't I?" D fell through the door, pounding the floor from laughter. **BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! click!** I emptied the remaining four rounds into that asshat. "Ahaha haha!" D continued laughing, ignoring the hollow holes ridding their clay body. Wiping an imaginary ear from an empty eye socket, D became serious. "Dispatch called." "Mother fucking fuck!" I screamed, hurling the six shot but missing the driver. I'll chalk that up to the shitty lighting. "By the way, you might not want to show your face…" D chuckled dryly, guilt tugging at their lips. *Great, two terrible options. Might as well rip the bandaid off quickly.* "Dispatch called?" I sighed, breathing slowly to reduce my heart rate.  "I wrote the address in my journal, here." D produced a velvet, leather-bound diary from seemingly nowhere, already open. "Shit really? That's… going to take for fucking ever…" I grumbled, cursing my existence. "The other thing-?" D began, but I interrupt.  "Nope. Not a good time. Just… give me a moment?" I shooed them out the door, walked to my bed, and screamed my throat raw into my pillow. — Assignment 24, Day 1, 5:39am Climbing into the cabin, I lugged my 'appropriated' supplies on my back. D watched, unblinking, as I secured the goods beside the mattress. "You really don't want to know?" D asked smugly, self satisfied for reasons I did not have the capacity to learn. Flipping them off, I ignited the engine. I put us in drive, and we were on our way. 8:11am "Why are you here?" I finally broke the silence we'd driven in. "Eh?" D shrugged their shoulders after a moment of thought. "Seriously? Why?" I pressed, not throwing in the towel easily. With an impossibly long groan, D said "fiiiiine. I'm looking for something. I figure that," D pointed to the cargo, "might lead me there." "Dare I ask what that 'something' is?" I made air quotes with one hand, keeping the other on the steering wheel.  "Answers. Just leave it there." D stated, then shot their head against the windshield. "Pull over. NOW!" Pulling over and flooring the break, the truck skid to a stop. Not waiting for it to stop fully, D had already vanished. Wasting no time, I unzipped my bag. Loading up, I carefully surveyed my surroundings. **WHOPAH!** something crashed in the middle of the road so violently, the street lamps were toppled. Crunching across the pulverized pavement, I saw a true demon. Fiery crimson skin pulsed with bright, ancient symbols. Each step it took, I found it harder and harder to breathe. "Aeshma! Not another step!" D demanded, arms spread to block the demon's approach. "You! What business have you, ancient one?" Aeshma snarled, baring swordlike fangs. Peeling skin tore as the demon revealed more and more teeth. "That I'd none of your concern, child. Why have you come?" D demanded with an equally intimidating presence. Just as I thought I would pass out from oxygen deprivation, air rushed back to my lungs in a painful wave. Gasping for breath, I fought to hold my rifle. "That portal… I need it" Aeshma sighed, cheeks knitting back together. The runes retreated into their crimson skin then they knelt before D. "Rise, child. I offer you a compromise. Leave us be until I have satisfied my own curiosity, then you may take what you seek." D's voice reverberated, as though echoing hundreds of times, all at once. "That is… agreeable-" Aeshma said, disappearing upwards. Aeshma left one nasty pothole, in case you were wondering. Nonchalantly, D paced back to the passenger side, then hopped back to their seat. After some time of my gawking at them, D shrugged. "What? I didn't know Aeshma was coming until they were nearby." Mouthing out the word 'what' silently, D shrugged again. "I don't ask about your private life." Sighing, I crawled back to the mattress and shut my eyes. I planned on sleeping this off like a bad hangover. 5:32pm "Hungry?" D prodded, landing another wet willy. "Stop that, asshole!" I spat, slapping the disgustingly long finger. "Seriously though, how are you?" *What a loaded question.* "Yeah, I'm hungry." I said, dodging the second question. Frowning, D shut the off engine. "I'll refuel the truck. Go get yourself something." Navigating the gas station aisles, I plucked an iced coffee, cinnamon bun, and some other snacks from the shelves. Walking to checkout, I found a line. While waiting in line, an amber alert caught my attention. Turning to the wall mounted tv, my heart skipped a beat. "-is highly dangerous and armed. Be on the lookout for-" the robotic voice of the broadcast droned, but I took off before any more. I knew the name of the suspect. That picture was unmistakable. 5:39pm "What the fuck did you do!" I shouted, flooring the gas pedal. "I tried telling you earlier" D defended, putting their hands up in surrender. "Why am I wanted?!" I yelled, regretting my morning scream as my throat was beyond sore. "As I was trying to tell you. Some officers came knocking. They were suspicious so I took your appearance and went with them. As I suspected, they weren't really police, so I…" D striked a beard that wasn't there, humming quietly. "You what? Murdered them all?" I asked sarcastically. After D drooped their head for a minute, saying nothing, I slapped my forehead. "How many?" I whimpered, feeling tears begin to well up. "About two…" D trailed off, counting on fingers then slowly sprouting more and more to count on. "Ah, there we are. Two thousand ish." I nearly swerved into the guardrail. Falling into insanity, I asked **"WHY?"** "As I said, they were suspicious. When their chloroform didn't knock me out, and their bullets didn't stop me, I figured they were out for you. So I killed them." "Dear God!" I gagged, breaking down in tears. "Which one, there a few gods of deer?" D asked, unhelpful as expected. "You fucked me." I stated, through the haze of outright dread. "It was going to happen either way. How'd you get those?" D said pointedly, gesturing at my small arsenal. "D has a point." My reflection added, speaking the truth I had already accepted. "Shut up!" I begged both the mirror and D. I didn't want this. Fuck!

My new strange town has a set of rules in order to survive - We never knew those rules existed on the first day.

y74eit

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y74eit/my_new_strange_town_has_a_set_of_rules_in_order/

My mom, my sister - Esther, and I just moved into this new town yesterday. In summary, my dad is a total jerk and my mom has had enough of his shit. She filed a restraining order against him and is going to sign the divorce papers next. I was sitting on my bed when my mom came and complained about how messy my room was. "Ray, could you unpack and organize your belongings?" My mother inquired, looking around my room dejectedly. My mother was looking at me worriedly. "Yes," I replied, quietly getting up and unloading the boxes. For a moment, she probably wanted to say something, but then stopped. I guess she was concerned about how my sister and I would deal with these sudden changes. “Remember to come down for breakfast.” I watched her figure disappear, then resumed my cleaning work. Our new room was a fairly basic room (yes, I share a room with my sister), with a window overlooking the street and a built-in wardrobe. The sound of children playing in the yard distracted me a bit. I continued to arrange my books and adjust the blankets. Then I finally checked the closet. The closet door was rather odd in that it was designed to be opened only from one side. I opened it, preparing for whatever animal was there to run out, but it was empty, except for a piece of yellow paper lying neatly on the floor. I was about to pick it up, but a call from downstairs stopped me. I rushed down while my mother was carrying a plate of pancakes toward the table and my sister was eating hers. "Estie, how did you sleep?" I laughed and hugged her. She squealed as she tried to keep the honey-stained fork from sticking to me. She gulped, then returned my hug. "It was tedious, but come and eat first, sis." My mother continued, as she sat in a chair, dipping her fork into a maple syrup-filled pancake, "Take a bite!". I ate it. It was delicious. We ate together and talked happily, and I suddenly realized that it had been a long time since we sat down to talk like this. My mom called us upstairs while we were still cleaning. My mother's room was cluttered with an open suitcase, and several shirts were strewn across the floor. "You forgot something?" Esther asked, bending down to pick up a shirt and folding it neatly. My mother shook her head, "Aunt Jones just called me." "I thought you filed a restraining order against dad?" I frowned, "Why is he still trying to contact you?" "He has some problems..." she sighed, looking back at Esther, "His lawyer said that I have to attend the trial tomorrow." Esther looked back at her; the shirt in her hands was crumpled to the point of wrinkles. My mother came over and hugged her as tears streamed down her cheeks. "I won't hesitate this time, I promise." And she looked back at me. "I'm going to be back in a week... Or more if he tries to reason with the court. So Ray, take care of Esther, alright?" I nodded and tried to comfort Esther. She was a little bit shaky. Every time someone mentioned anything about my dad, her PTSD would rush right in. My mom packed her things for another 15 minutes and we all came to see my mother off. We waved goodbye as her car disappeared. I looked back at Esther, who was still very frightened. "What do you want to have for dinner tonight?" I smiled, trying to cheer up. She wiped her tears, "Sweet and sour ribs? I always love that." "Sure!" I nodded. \_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_ We were walking down the street to the nearest supermarket. The neighbor was too quiet at this time of day. Esther and I finally came to the supermarket on our Google map. It was a small, local supermarket that seemed rusty at first, but it was the only one near my house. We walked in, and it was quite surprising because of how **deserted** it was. Only a cashier at the checkout, a janitor cleaning the floor, and two other employees are organizing the products. I shrugged it off, *maybe they don't have that many employees at this time of day.* Esther was going around to get some snacks while I went to the meat section to get some ribs. We meet back at the checkout, with Esther holding a bunch of snacks. As we were checking out, I realized how one of the employees was looking at us with a worried look. I think Esther noticed that too. The cashier handed us the bag, and I gave her the money. "May **he** look over you," she said, smilingly. Even though I was very confused, I still nodded and smiled, "Sorry, but I'm an atheist. But thank you anyway." For a moment, she seemed... **angry.** She held onto my wrist and screamed, "**HOW CAN YOU BE THIS DISGRACEFUL!?**" Esther tried to break her grip on my wrist and the employee rushed in to separate us. I was shaking while she was still screaming and muttering unhearable things. The other employee came and escorted us out of the supermarket. "Our apologies," the employee said, "She has been strange these days." I shrugged it off, knowing it was not worth it to act like a Karen at this point. We just walked back to our house after that. \_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_ I was still cooking when Esther came rushing down the stairs. "Pests again?" I laughed at her expression. She shook that off, telling me how weird the closet was. "It has locks inside. It's almost like a tiny room there." She described the closet. I smiled and ushered her to the dining room so that we could have dinner. We ate and talked for a bit, then I went up the stairs to take a bath while Esther was washing the dishes. We watched TV for a bit and then decided to go to sleep. "Sis, don't you feel weird about that closet?" "Alright, let's talk about it tomorrow. Let's sleep first!" I hear her whimper under her blanket. \_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_ It was 2:43 AM when I heard some woman's voice downstairs. Esther was woken up by it too. "I think," she said, looking down the window, "It's... **MOM!**". She quickly grabbed her cardigan and dashed downstairs. I held her back right after. "How are you so sure it's mom? It could be anyone?" "But she's wearing the same clothes that mom wore today. Maybe dad has done something to her again!" She shouted and went down right after. *Shit*, I cursed, as I followed her. Esther was comforting the woman who she claimed to be our mom. I kneeled and asked her if she was alright. She was breathing heavily. She groaned, a small voice: "I... I'm alright." "Mom, can you stand up?" Esther worriedly asked as she was trying to stand her up. But it was useless, the woman stopped the heavy breathing, and then laughed. "**You stupid, stupid little girls."** I could finally see her face, *she was the cashier from the supermarket*. She laughed as she was transforming into something *that wasn't human.* Her hand now turns into long and thin claws, which are shaped like knives waiting to pierce through the meat. Her eyes became hollow, darkened, and twisted. I looked back, only to see a sharpened smile that shone brightly under the moonlight. And she gripped my hand again, the same grip at the checkout booth. *Oh shit,* I thought, *I'm going to die here.* **BANG!** All the chaos was interrupted by the sound of a gun piercing the woman's arm, and I looked around fearfully and felt the grip on my wrist loosen. From the side of the gun was a man, about middle-aged and a bit slim. In his hand was a shotgun. I was scared, screaming, "ESTHER! Get out of there! NOW!" **BANG!** Another shot rang out, it pierced the cashier's head. Her head was crushed, but instead of the usual brain and flesh, it was black and rotten liquid. I grabbed Esther and dragged her away, running for life. From behind, that creature was still following us. "**COme BaCK!**" It cried out. "YOU TWO, HERE!" It was the voice of an aunt coming from the old man's house. Regardless, I dragged Esther to the man's side and tripped as I entered the door. ​ "ANDREW, COME IN!" The auntie shouted before the man fired another shot at the hideous creature. The uncle rushed over to us, pushed the three of us into the house, and slammed the door shut. The amount of adrenaline in my body made me shiver like I was on the other side of the North Pole, and Esther was still in shock. The man named Andrew gasped, then quickly threw the gun aside and sat down. "Thank God we got there early..." Outside, the creature is still growling and whimpering under my mother's voice. "*How could you two leave me here to die?"* My new strange town has a set of rules to survive - We never knew those rules existed on the first day.

It keeps playing.

y7hju1

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y7hju1/it_keeps_playing/

Somebody.. send help.. I'm not sure how much more I can take. It keeps playing over and over again and it won't stop no matter what. Let me give you a bit of backstory.. I live in a large 1800s Georgian house. It's not a giant creepy mansion sitting on a hill like you might have imagined, but instead it's a seemingly normal house which sits beside a quiet street. I moved in here about a year ago and everything was normal until just recently. I own a music box. I have had this music box since I was a baby, in fact I'm pretty sure it was a birth present. My parents would wind it every night for me to help me sleep,and it worked. Now this box had somehow moved in with me, 22 years later. I don't know how it didn't make it into my parent's loft along with all of my other old stuff, but it was the only thing from my childhood that moved in with me. Yesterday I decided to wind the box a tiny bit to see if it still worked. I opened the lid carefully and miraculously, it squeaked out that same old tune from when I was little. I will never forget it. I held it in my hands before setting it back down on the table I had put it on. I left it alone, but just a few hours later I heard the song ringing out. What the fuck? I hadn't gone near it since I wound it before, plus you had to open the lid for the song to play, so why was it playing again? The lid was locked shut so how could it play? On the music box, there was no way to stop it from playing until you eventually had to rewind it, so I just had to wait for it to reset and then leave it. The house was quiet for the rest of the day until this evening when I was getting ready for bed. I slid under my duvet and got comfortable, and that's when I heard it again. That song. It was singing again. I didn't know what to do. It hasn't stopped playing since. The bathroom door has creaked open a few times and I've heard footsteps disturbing the shitty floorboards beneath the carpet, but I haven't seen anything. I've only heard that song. I'm going crazy. I can't take it. It won't fucking stop and I don't know what to do. Send someone. A priest, maybe. I should have returned it to my parents as soon as I found it in a box I had used to move in. I just heard footsteps right outside my bedroom door. The music got louder as if it was outside the door too. I'm scared. I might be dead, or worse, by the time someone gets here, but just tell my parents to smash that fucking box to pieces as soon as I'm gone. My door creaked open. I'm not looking. Tell everyone I love them. The music stopped.

My Upstairs Neighbor

y7aefy

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y7aefy/my_upstairs_neighbor/

I live in an apartment.  Everyone besides the people on the top floor wonder what the sounds coming from their upstairs neighbors are. I don't have to wonder, the only sound that I ever hear, is laughter. Never a footstep, the movement of furniture or the life-interupting explosion of something falling to the floor. It's a laugh of pure joy, Deep and hearty. He laughs like he's with friends but I never hear anyone else.  One night, I was watching TV and we laughed at the same time. It felt like we were laughing at the same joke. I smiled...the first time it happened. The next day, he laughed at the same time as me, twice. I figured we were watching the same channel. I flipped to a streaming service and turned on a horror movie. During one jump scare, I hear him yell. I am really creeped out so I'm trying to watch happy programing. I'm not laughing anymore but he's still laughing at things I would have laughed at.  The laughter lasts longer each time he does it. Every now and then, the laughter is accompanied by the sound of slapping on his floor. Its loud enough that it makes me jump, everytime.  I am not the type to confront a neighbor about anything but I can't do nothing. I talk to the building manager. He tells me that unit is being renovated and there shouldn't be anyone up there. He asks me to call him right away if I hear it again. I walk into booming, maniacal laughter as I enter my apartment. I call the building manager and hold my phone towards the ceiling. The building manager says he'll check it out. A few minutes later the laughter stops. I hear the faint sound of footsteps across the floor. The laughter starts again. I hear a giant crash. The laughter pierces through the floor, like the squatter is right next to me. Something heavy is now being dragged. I grab a hammer, dial 911 and run towards the stairwell. My building manager was up there because of me, if he was in trouble, I had to try to help him. I reach the door, it's shut. I put my phone in my pocket and knock... "Cooome in!" The hearty voice beckons like it's welcoming an expected friend. I open the door and hold it in front of me like a sheild, I peak inside. There is nothing in the apartment aside from a petite, naked woman with long black hair. She is in the middle of the room, on her toes with her ear to a glass on the floor. Her body and neck are controrted into impossible angles. She is looking right at me, she is smiling. She laughs, the deep, hearty laugh that I had associated with joy...and a man. I could now see it was the proud roar of madness. She smashes the glass on the floor and starts chewing on the shards. Each skull shattering crunch reverberates through my body. I can feel it, like foil on my teeth. She doesn't break eye contact. She chokes, blood oozes from the corners of her mouth, the laughter resumes.  I run back to the stairwell; she is right behind me. She runs on her knuckles and is still on her toes. She is surprisingly fast. I get down the stairwell and to my apartment door just before she does. I make it inside and lock the door. She is clawing and snarling, choking... laughing. I pull the couch over to the door and lay on it. I haven't spoken to emergency services but they've been on the phone this whole time, they should be here soon. I pull my phone out, blurt out my location and do my best to explain the situation. The woman on the other end assures me that the police are already on the way then starts to laugh. A deep, hearty...joyful laugh.

It took months for me to escape the unspeakable horrors, only to find out that years had passed for everyone else

y7a1ei

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y7a1ei/it_took_months_for_me_to_escape_the_unspeakable/

A year ago, I was found in bed at my apartment raving about a loathsome land that swallowed me up, a place that could only exist in the mind of a madman, a place where land and animal are the same. For 10 years they said I was missing, but for me it felt like no more than a few months. I have not aged, yet my brother just a year older than me had changed greatly, his hair now almost fully grey. I have no memory of how I got there, I went to bed like any other night and fell asleep. At first, when I woke, I believed it was a dream, a horrible nightmare that I could not awake from, in a land that was alive. If you could call that revolting foul-smelling thing alive, it could just as easily be dead with its rotting pulsating flesh throbbing, as if ready to burst. Its skin peeled in parts revealing a dark tar-like substance that seemed to infect the surrounding area, causing some sort of fungus to quickly spread like a virus. Some of the larger older “scabs” I call them have an array of weird things growing from them, at the surface countless jelly like tentacles that resemble a meadow from a distance, a dead one, void of color.  As I walked barefoot across it, I could feel its sticky arms burst, making a soggy sound as my feet sank deep into the hideous mess which left behind a pool of thick sludge in my wake, that I could barely pull my feet from. My reason for risking such a dangerous journey is simple, in the center was growing a long tree-like plant which rose so high that I could not see the top. But before I could reach the base, I had to cross a field of thorn like things, which looked as if they were dancing in the wind. But there was no wind, the only breeze I felt was from the odd pocket of gas that escaped randomly from the fresher wounds, the smell of which was like rotten flesh mixed with ammonia that burned my eyes and lungs. Trying to navigate through that horrific maze caused me unnatural pain brought on by endless wave after wave of attack from them foul creatures as they tore deep into my flesh, until I couldn’t take it anymore and fell to the ground. I have no way of knowing how long I was out, if it was hours, days or just minutes, but I woke with such an unsatiable apatite that even the repulsive vegetation tempted me. I found a grey orb-like growth at the edge of the thorny forest which did not have a putrid smell like most of the growing things there. When I bit into it its soft fleshy skin burst filling my mouth with a thick slime like substance that almost made me vomit. The smell was mildly unpleasant, but the taste was somewhat familiar, which I could never explain why. It took what I assume was days for me to get my strength back enough to make such a climb, but I have no way of knowing since the sky was always the same shade of bright glowing red. My only nourishment was coming from those awful orbs that made me so ill at first, that I spent most of my time curled up in a ball screaming in pain. But in time the pain eased, and I was able to stomach those gelatinous orbs with only the mildest discomfort. . My first attempt at scaling that monstrosity was cut short by an earthquake that shook the ground so much that I was lifted 20ft high, only saved by the angle of my fall sliding horizontally down the stem, slowed by the many branches before landing in a pile of sludge 5ft deep, which took hours to get free from. I was lucky to have escaped with such few injuries that it only took me days to recover. Again, I risked it all in hopes I would find a way out of my hell and climbed its fleshy veins that felt warm to the touch. In my trail I left a stream of green oozing liquid as I stuck my nails deep into it as I pulled myself higher and higher. As I climbed the skin on the tree started to become so thin, that it eventually became completely translucent, and I could see a flurry of white orbs flowing inside it, like blood pumping through veins. Every now and then I'd push my hand through its soft flesh and replenish my supplies, then watch it heal itself almost instantly. The true scale of what I was actually looking at hit me when I got high enough to see over what I thought was a large mountain range. For I could see the land open up, revealing what looked like an eye so big that even the largest city would seem miniscule inside of it. The large mountain range I was looking at was nothing more than a pimple on its skin. In that moment I believed I had died and gone to hell; how else could I explain such detestable horrors. As I stood there staring into its dark flickering pupil, I thought why me, I lived a good honest life, why would God send me to this place. I could feel the anger build up inside me and soon I succumbed to my rage and started punching the tree with such force that my hand got lodged deep inside. While trying to free it with my other hand I pushed with all my strength, but ended up getting both hands stuck. Soon I felt myself getting dragged inside. I did my best to fight it, but it was no use I got completely sucked in. As I climbed higher inside that tube, I finally saw past the red glowing sky which revealed endless worlds like the one I had just come from, all connected by stems like the one that brought me there. Struggling to take what I thought was my last breath. I could not help but think of the life I left behind and how insignificant my problems were before I was brought to that place, where no mortal should ever even dream of going and how different I would do things if I could go back to that place now. Then with a bright flash of light I was back in my bed, but it was not my bed anymore, for beside me was a woman that I did not know, in a room that did not seem in the least bit familiar to me, with its pink curtains and frilly bedsheets. Before she went running out of there, she screamed so loud I could feel my ears pop. Not long after a large man came charging in and pinned me to the ground, the cops soon followed. When they asked me where I had been for so long, and how I ended up in that poor girl's room, I had no answer to give. So, I was silent, and stayed silent to this day, for fear I might speak out loud the unspeakable horrors I had seen in that awful place and infect the minds of others. Now I spend my time sitting in my room alone, my only company is the memory of that monstruous thing, as it haunts every waking moment of my life. Even in my sleep I can’t escape my terror, for in my dreams I find myself back in that dreadful place. I only speak now because I am dying, infected by that cursed place, black tar seeping from the scars it gave me, infecting everything it touches. I thought I escaped that curse place, but I was wrong, it came back with me, and it is not alone, I can hear them calling out to me like a siren, warning of impending doom.

She likes to be watched

y72304

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y72304/she_likes_to_be_watched/

I thought it might be a one night stand. I met her at a bar in New York City late in the night, just before closing. I was in town from Seattle and was looking to catch the last few innings of the game at a Mariners friendly bar I had found online. She was the only person there, legs folded under her atop the barstool, flirting with the bartender. I thought they might be together, but she was quick to strike up a conversation with me. She had auburn hair which looked colored but not unnatural. It suited her fair skin and slender nose. She wore an oversized hooded sweatshirt which made her look comfortable and at ease. Her beer was halfway gone and she seemed to smile as she spoke. I asked if she was a Mariners fan— she wasn’t. She lived nearby and needed to get out of her apartment for a little while. There were rats in her apartment and she had set some traps. She didn’t want to hear them snap shut, so here she was. I told her the worst part wasn’t the traps snapping down, but prying open the hammer after the brains or blood had been spilled. She hadn't thought about that. She asked if I could come back to her place and help her with that part. The game wasn’t over. I didn’t mind. She didn’t catch anything that night. I told her peanut butter was the way to go. They only used cheese in the cartoons. She said she’d keep it in mind. Then she kissed me. She pulled back to look into my eyes. I didn’t realize how beautiful she was. But then she did something strange. She tilted her head and looked past me. Her eyes registered something behind me. I thought we were alone. I looked back. The room was empty. I asked her what she saw. She said it was nothing and pulled me back in and led me to her bedroom. All apartments in New York are small and her bedroom was nearly a closet. But as we undressed and I got on top of her she kept looking past me. I looked back again. The place was nearly dark, but I couldn’t see anything there. Was she still thinking about the rats? No, she said and wanted me to keep going. I had the feeling of being watched. I hated that feeling. I looked around. Were there cameras? I didn’t think so. Afterwards, when I was walking back to my hotel she texted me. She said she’d call me if she caught any rats. I replied, peanut butter, I’m telling you. She came to my hotel a few nights later. We flirted as we got to know each other. I asked where she was from, she said North Carolina. I asked where, she said somewhere in the middle. Like Raleigh? I asked. She smiled, exactly like Raleigh. We seemed to naturally fit. I moved toward her and curled her hair behind her ear. I felt that spark of electricity you get when you look deep into a woman’s eyes. I was really into her. But her eyes broke off to the side. She looked around. I did the same. What could she be looking at? She seemed disappointed and her demeanor changed. She said she should be going, but she had just got to my hotel. It didn’t make sense. So I opened the door for her and just as she was stepping out something caught her eye. She said, maybe she could hang around a little while longer. We spent the night together. She told me she really liked me. But that she didn’t want it to turn to anything more than what it was. A long distance relationship was the last thing she needed right now. She said let’s keep this just as it was. Just a fling. I’d be gone soon. She didn’t want to get too connected. She had just gotten over a long term relationship. Her last boyfriend had a hard time letting go. She was looking for a reset. She slept beside me and put her head on my chest. The smell of her shampoo was intoxicating. Her hand had traced my shoulder as she nodded off and I felt lucky. It never was this simple, this effortless. Except that earlier, the whole time she was on top of me, she didn’t look at me. Not once, now that I think about it. Her eyes were locked on the wall beside the bed. Whatever she was looking at turned her on. She bit her lip and damn she was sexy. But what was she looking at? It went on like this for a few weeks before I was ready to fly home. I started to have dreams about her. Or maybe I’d awake in the night, sometimes it was hard to tell. We’d be in my hotel room or at her place. In the corner of my eye I could see someone standing there. Their figure darker than the surrounding space. It did not move. It had no face, for it’s body was void of any trace of light. But I could feel it staring at me as I laid in bed beside her. I texted her that I wanted to see her one last time, but she was out with friends. I hadn’t met any of them. But apparently they urged her to invite me, but that I shouldn’t get any ideas. This was just going to be a fling, remember? I met up with her and her friends at a trendy bar in Brooklyn. They all had curious and suspicious eyes on me. I was outnumbered four-to-one, but I kept my own. After all, I was never going to see any of them again. So I was relaxed and played along with their teasing. She sat beside me with a careless hand wrapped around my arm as we drank and talked. She had an infectious laugh and I knew I was going to miss her. But I caught that look. The look she has when she sees whatever she sees. She was looking off toward the corner of the bar. There was no one there. She excused herself and navigated her way toward the bathroom. I watched her as she went, I didn’t care that her friends knew I was checking her out as she walked away. Her friends told me it was a shame I was leaving. I was good for her. I got her mind off her last boyfriend. I said she mentioned it was a rough break up. They said is wasn’t a break up at all. He had simply disappeared. So later that night, after we had said goodbye to her friends, I walked with her toward the subway station. She held my hand as we talked and gossiped about her friends. She was mid-sentence when she suddenly stopped and turned her head to the side, as if to listen to a whisper. She smiled and looked at me. She said she had set some traps back at her place. She wanted to know if I was interested in going back with her to check if maybe she had caught something. She had used the peanut butter. After all, it was my last night in New York City. Her eyes glittered in the reflection of the city lights. We slipped into her place, and I couldn’t keep my hands off of her. I kissed at her neck and ear and how I loved the smell of her hair. She said she didn’t want me to go. That this was maybe something special, something she hadn’t anticipated. I stopped and looked at her. She meant it. She wanted me to stay longer. Her eyes were finally looking into mine and mine alone. I wanted to stay. She was right. But I needed to know. So I finally asked her. I asked what she was always looking at, was there someone there? She hesitated. She seemed to retreat a little. I told her it was okay. I wanted to know. Did she see something? Someone? Yes, she said. Are they here right now? I asked. Yes, she said, they’re here right now. They? Can I see them? Promise you won’t leave me, she asked. I told her I wanted to stay. She thought about it before finally saying, okay, kiss me with your eyes closed. I did. I shivered. The room felt colder than it did before. I felt her hands on my back and shoulders but then felt something else. Someone else touching me. I opened my eyes. He sat at the edge of the bed. I couldn’t quite make out his appearance for his body was cloaked in darkness, not shadow, simply a void of light in the shape of a man. But I could see his eyes looking at me kiss her. He was nodding as if to say, yes, keep kissing her. His hands, or what might have been arms once folded around her and I could feel her excite, and she moved her hips into mine. She was breathing heavy and began to shudder when she bit down on my lip. That’s when I pulled away and saw another shadow beside us, watching, reaching for me. Yes, it said and I heard its voice from within my head as if my own thought and I heard her say, yes, almost in the same instant. I could feel hands pulling me into her from all sides, yes, they kept saying in my thoughts. What the hell was happening? And I was on top of her now, yes they said again and again and she was saying it with them like a chorus or some sacred chant. Stay with me, she said and they repeated her, stay with us… Something was happening, I felt euphoria and an immense fear and dread all at once when she said to never leave her. Yes!, I heard myself saying out loud and they were all around us now, then finally —SNAP! I stopped, and they were gone. What happened? she said looking around. We were alone again. I got up and walked toward the kitchen. There, by the foot of the refrigerator a small rat had its snout nearly severed in half from the hammer. It’s eyes bulged and blood spilled from its nose. I told her not to look. I would handle it. I took the trap and walked down the five flights of stairs to the garbage bin. I tossed the entire trap into the bin and looked up. Though no one was there, I could feel their eyes on me. I got the hell out of there and took the next flight back to Seattle. Part of me feels terrible. Here I asked her to open up, to be vulnerable and show me a part of her. It was scary as hell. I never liked being watched.

My girlfriend was up unusually early this morning. I wish I never found out why.

y6a9du

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y6a9du/my_girlfriend_was_up_unusually_early_this_morning/

“I’m going to take out the trash,” my girlfriend Monica announced as soon as I entered the kitchen that morning. I hadn’t expected to see her up this early. Certainly not after how late she must have gotten home last night. After spending Friday nights bar-hopping with friends, Monica usually slept in until lunch. “Okay, honey,” I said, without particular interest, “Thanks!” Grabbing the cereal box from the counter and plopping down on one of the kitchen chairs, I wondered if she had returned home earlier the previous night and I’d simply missed it. I mean, I normally woke up as soon as I heard the key turning in the lock, but perhaps that night she’d been particularly quiet? Or maybe she’d stayed with one of her friends? “How was your night?” I asked, as soon as I heard the front door click shut, “What time did you get home?” *Silence.* I raised my head from my bowl, waiting for her to emerge from around the corner, but the corridor was empty. “Honey?” I tried again, my voice saturated with uncertainty. Monica appeared in the doorway, her expression unreadable. She didn’t look disoriented or drunk, but she didn’t seem quite right either. Her hands were fidgety, and her eyes wouldn’t meet mine. “Monica?” I grunted, trying to tame the lump in my throat, “What’s the matter?” She took a deep breath and parted her lips, as though she was going to speak, but then hunched her shoulders and shook her head. “I need to take out the trash,” she said. I gawked at her, dumbfounded, “But…you just did?” She shook her head, and glided towards the trash can cabinet, opening it, and producing another bag from within. Then, just like the previous time, she turned on her heel and disappeared from the kitchen. Needless to say, the silent treatment was unlike Monica. *Had something happened during her night out? Had I done anything to upset her? And where were all these bags coming from..?* As soon as I heard the front door shut, I leapt out of my seat and threw the cabinet open, expecting to… Well, I’m not entirely sure *what* I was expecting. Either way, it was empty. “What’s going on?” I asked, when she returned five minutes later, the same empty look in her eyes, “Do you want to talk about it?” She looked dubious. “*Monica?*” “Okay,” she said, “But *first*, let me take out the trash.” My stomach lurched as she flung the cabinet open again, pulling out yet another garbage bag. “*What the hell..?*” I began, subconsciously pinching my arm, as if to ensure I wasn’t dreaming, “What are all these bags...?” But she wasn’t listening, instead turning her back to me and retreating the same way she had come. A chill crawled up my spine. *What the hell was going on?* I could have sworn the cabinet had been empty only a few moments ago. *Where had all these bags come from and why wasn’t she taking them out all at once..?* Shutting the front door behind me as meticulously as I could, I crept down the hallway leading to the stairwell. I needed to investigate. Monica had never willingly taken out the trash before - she said the garbage chute gave her the creeps. Our apartment was on the sixth floor, so there was no way she was going down all those flights of stairs for a single bag of garbage. The door to the garbage chute at the end of the hallway was ajar, and I could hear the faint wail of metal as it was pulled open. I swallowed, suddenly at a loss for what to do. *I mean, wouldn’t it be weird if she found me just standing there? And what exactly was I planning to say?* I listened in, my skin prickling in anticipation and my heart thudding in my chest. *Oh, what was I getting so worked up for? It was only Monica, for God’s sake. She’d probably had a falling out with one of her friends, or maybe I was snoring again and she couldn’t get to sleep. I’ll just go in and as-* But what I saw when I opened the door will remain with me for the rest of my life. Monica was sitting on the door of the chute, her legs already swallowed by the darkness within. Slowly but surely, she was edging her body into it, her palms clammy against the metallic finish. She turned her head at the sound of the door opening, and for a brief moment her eyes lit up with recognition. “Monica!” I cried out, dashing towards the chute, my heart practically leaping out of my chest, “What are you-?” But it was too late. Startled by my voice, or by my presence, she let go and disappeared into the chute, a raspy wail reverberating against the steel. *Thud.* I wanted to scream, but it was as though I’d suddenly gone mute. Fear sizzled through me like electricity as I flew down the stairs to the manager’s office. “Give me the key to the trash room,” I demanded breathlessly, “My girlfriend is inside!” He looked at me over the tops of his glasses, as though questioning my state of mind. “That’s impossible,” he retorted, “I have the only key.” Tears were flowing freely down my cheeks and my clothes were damp with sweat. I must have looked a downright sight, but I didn’t care. “She fell into the chute,” I sobbed, grabbing the edge of his desk for support, “F-from…the sixth floor…” Everything happened quickly after that. An ambulance was called, as were the police. At first they were hesitant to tell me what they’d found. They kept insisting I sit down and have some water, throwing leaflets about therapy and mental well-being into my lap. “Please, just tell me…just tell me…” I kept repeating, but nobody was listening. Hours seemed to pass by without a single word of affirmation or any information needed to piece the events of the morning together. The ambulance left within about twenty minutes of arrival, and left the police to take care of it. I couldn’t understand it. I mean, even if… Monica was… badly hurt… she’d still need to be looked at at the hospital. So, why had they left? Eventually, an uneasy-looking officer took a seat next to me. “Son…” he began slowly, studying my reaction, “Your girlfriend is… gone…” I buried my face in my hands. *Of course, she was.* She’d jumped down the *fucking* chute, plummeting God knows how many feet. “...but your story isn’t quite adding up.” he continued, his eyes narrowing, “You said she’d fallen into the chute, but…” He took a deep breath, his forehead creasing, “But we found her… Well, parts of her… inside… inside a garbage bag…” My blood ran cold. It was like I could no longer understand what he was saying. His mouth was moving, but the sounds were jumbled and wouldn’t make sense. *Inside a garbage bag..? What the hell was that supposed to mean?* He explained that the garbage bag had been there… for at least several hours before the police were called. He said that there was… no doubt that its contents belonged to Monica. He asked whether I had any idea what happened. Then, in a much softer tone… he added that I’d be expected to come in for questioning. When I finally returned to my apartment that morning, all I wanted to do was fall into bed and go to sleep, praying I’d wake up to discover that all this had been nothing but a bad dream. But as soon as I entered the bedroom, the front door slammed shut. “*Hello?*” I called out, my voice meek and croaky. *Silence.* A newfound sense of dread filled my lungs as I recalled the events of the morning. As I tiptoed slowly towards the kitchen, I couldn’t help wondering if- *No, it couldn’t be.* She was leaning over the trash can cabinet, a new garbage bag in her grasp. She spun around and our eyes met. “I’m just going to take out the trash,” she said. I stared at her, my breath catching in my throat. Here she was, right in front of me, talking about trash as if it were the most casual thing in the world. In a feeble attempt to make her stay, I asked the only question I could think of. I asked it, even though I knew the answer already. “What’s…what’s in the bag, honey?”

I shouldn't have sold their treasure. I shouldn't even have touched it.

y73lv3

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y73lv3/i_shouldnt_have_sold_their_treasure_i_shouldnt/

*Ding dong!* The ringing was persistent. At this hour it sounded like a siren wailing into the night. “Coming,” I muttered, walking to the door. I rubbed my eyes and threw it open. The sun was beginning to rise, and new light flooded the town, bouncing off every sparkling surface and illuminating the shadows that once crept in the dark. I hissed like a vampire caught in the dawn. There was nobody there, and I banged my fist against the door, making the walls shake. I screamed, swore at the jokesters who dared wake me up at 6:35 on a Saturday morning. I was sure those little rascals were hiding away somewhere, giggling at their little prank. I swear, I just aged out of teenagehood, but I was never that *immature*. I was about to slam the door shut when I noticed the package on my front steps. It was wrapped in brown greaseproof paper, the same kind you would use to wrap a steak or a rack of lamb. Already its age was showing; the packaging was dirty and slimy with oil. “What’s that?” That was my brother Eric. We were 6 years apart, and I moved in with him before college started in the fall. Our parents didn’t mind; hell, they encouraged it. *Stay with your big bro,* they had said. *You might learn something useful with him.* I doubted it. Before I moved in with him, he was a bit of a slob. Mess everywhere, expecting me to clean up after him. I mean, even now, he was waddling towards me in coffee-stained pyjamas he had (conveniently) forgotten to wash last night. Despite everything though, I loved him. We’ve been through a lot together, me and him, even when we were isolated from everyone else. We were used to people gossiping about us behind our backs, making fun of us for how ridiculous our last names were, and even more ugly stuff I had to endure for years and years. Then Covid came and made everything a thousand times worse. But I had Eric and Eric had me. We bonded over video games and spicy Korean food. We took care of each other, and we had each other’s backs no matter what life threw our way. Including this package. Eric shook it. Something heavy thumped and rolled. Eric wrinkled his nose. “It stinks!” he cried. “Why did you order this?” “I didn’t order anything.” “It has your name on it,” Eric pointed out, angling the package to show me. Indeed my name was stuck on it, carefully typed out and printed. Arial, size 14. No return address. “It has our *last* name,” I corrected, but Eric was already tearing apart the paper with grubby fingers, as fast as a child opening his presents. But then he screamed, and jumped all the way back, and pointed at the contents with pale, shaking fingers. I peered into the box and my own heart leaped out of my throat. I turned around and vomited on the floor. It was a human skull, carefully polished and bleached until it shone. Jewels were jammed in each eye socket—a ruby on the left, a sapphire on the right, but it was slanted in a way that I could see the twin soulless voids staring back between the gaps. In fact, I swore I saw the jewels blink a few times and bit back a scream of my own. But then Eric abruptly stopped screaming. There was something in him now, something calm and collected, but I swore the temperature dropped thirty degrees because I shivered. He picked up the skull, examined it from all angles like he was just gifted a rare antique. Then he looked up at me and gave me a smile that made my hair stand on end. “It is mine now,” he said, and before I could stop him he had locked himself into his room. I stared after him, jaw still hanging open. Eric, so willing to share, had never been like this. But what chilled me to the bone was how *peaceful* his face looked when he turned to smile at me. The way his eyes closed into crescent moons, or the red blush creeping into his cheeks. Or how he walked like a zombie to his room, like he was half-asleep. *It simply was not Eric.* Not at all. It was just then I noticed that the package had come with a note. It was printed in the same typeface as the label on the box, and it said simply: **For Our Wonderful Master, Who Gave Us Everything.** Our last name was printed on the opposite side. *Master?* “I think you might have the wrong address,” I said out loud, but the moment I finished speaking I heard a thunderous roar and golden coins cascaded from the ceiling. I shrieked and jumped back, and nearly tripped into the rising pool of coins. They fell hard and fast and sharp, like little rocks, and I darted quickly under the table to hide because they hurt. Even then the rain continued, relentlessly battering the table and everything else around it. It was getting harder to move now, as the coins rose all around me in a tidal wave, eventually closing around my head and plunging me into darkness. I fought, fought with everything I got, as the coins rushed into my mouth and even my nose. Finally all was quiet, and I poked my head out of the solid water. I coughed, spitting out the last of the coins, and gulped in fresh air. It tasted heavenly, sweet like cold lemonade. Then I swam out into the open and had a look around. There weren’t as many coins as I thought, yet they still filled half the room. I impulsively picked one up to examine it further. Just the weight alone confirmed it was made of solid gold, no alloys, no funny business. A crown was engraved on one side of it, and the other side had the head of a demon. It glared at me with scarlet eyes, its forked tongue darting left and right, its hackles raised like a snake primed to attack. I had an idea. *How much was all this loot?* I couldn’t wait to find out. I gathered as many coins as I could and rushed to the pawn shop. The pawn shop agreed to buy them at a thousand dollars PER COIN. *Extraordinary,* he said. Of course I agreed. I could never be happier. I spent the next few hours running back and forth with bagfuls and bagfuls of coins. And the money? Well I spent it on everything and anything. All of my favourite things; all of my favourite foods. I tried to invite Eric along for the shopping spree. I knew he had been stressed recently with work. He always would come home too tired, too pale, eat without speaking and then disappear into his room to sleep. This trip would be a breath of fresh air for him. But his door was tightly shut and locked, no matter how hard I jiggled the doorknob. What disturbed me though was the laughter seeping in underneath the door. It didn’t sound human. Eric screamed. “Eric?” I yelled, heart pounding, palms sweating. “Are you okay?” Silence from the other side, save from the squelching of flesh. I waited on the other side, holding my breath. Part of me wanted to grab my phone and call for help but I couldn’t move. Finally his voice floated under the door. “I will be fine. Do not worry about me.” He sounded sick. Like something rough was scraping against his throat. “Okay,” I said reluctantly. “Do you want anything? I’m going out.” I was squeaking like a mouse. “No.” I got him some lobster anyway. It was something he always wanted to eat, yet he couldn’t as it was too expensive for either of us to afford. Freshly-caught, grilled in front of my eyes. I bought him champagne too—another luxury he rarely got to enjoy—but his sick voice, the way I heard him shuffling around in his room before I left—it was all gnawing away in my mind. And it stayed there, even as I tried to enjoy myself. A couple of times I couldn’t take it any longer, so I ran home to check on him, but I was either met with silence or the same response every time. *I will be fine.* When I finally headed home for the night, I was met with stone-cold silence. It was so dark that I couldn’t see my hand in front of my face; and even the shadows blocked out the moon. I turned on the light. I froze. My purchases shattered on the ground. Holes. The kitchen and living room was filled with *holes*. They were of varying sizes, some small enough to fit a mouse, others even smaller—and some so big they destroyed my furniture, but they were all the same shape. A three-pointed crown. *Creak…* One of the holes was widening. I stumbled backwards, nearly tripling over my bags. My nightmares crawled out. Or at least, it looked like it could come straight out of my nightmares. It was small, barely as high as my knee. It had green skin, sharp pointy ears and was naked except for a loincloth tied around its waist. It hissed, chattered in a language I did not understand and more of those creatures came crawling out of holes. Hundreds of them, maybe thousands, advancing towards me like little soldiers. The nearest one reached out towards my leg. *Screech!* I didn’t know what was worse, the high-pitch squeal as long nails raked against bare flesh, or the pain that soon followed. But it was enough for me to snap out of it, and I backed away as far as I could, but they pounced on my chest, knocking me over. They were chattering excitedly now, savouring victory that was inches away from them. I could smell their breath. It stunk of fresh death. A claw dug deep into my face, and the pain that exploded into my skull afterwards was enough to snap me into action. I shook off the monsters to the best of my ability, and fled to my own room, fighting them off with increasing desperation. I locked the doors, but I could still hear them yelling outside, and given how they managed to chew through wood, I didn’t have much hope. Besides, every time they yelled a shiver ran up my spine. My room was unchanged, save for more crown-shaped holes in the walls, but thankfully these holes appeared to be deserted. I went to my bathroom and washed myself best I could, but my body was still riddled with cuts and scars where claws met flesh. To make matters even worse, I realised with horror I left Eric’s food outside. Yet I didn’t feel safe. Images flashed into my mind of the creatures dragging my corpse all the way down to hell and I shivered. I hoped Eric would be okay with cold lobster tomorrow. I could still hear him through my walls, thrashing and yelling at something only he could see. I hoped he would be all right. I got into bed, but my mind was still going a million miles per hour. I glanced worriedly at the door, hoping it would hold. Long enough for me to buy another apartment, another house, far away from these things that now infested the flat I called home. I had the money now, after all. My eyes grew heavy, and I yawned, but then I woke up in a body that wasn’t my own. I was strong. I was powerful. I glared down at the creatures at my feet. The biggest one—the chief—was trembling like a leaf. “He got away, Master!” he cried. He knelt down and pulled at my cloak. “He must be punished,” I hissed. The voice wasn’t my own either. It was too cold, too high-pitched, like listening to a snake trying to talk. Every hair on my body stood on end listening to my own voice. My head was spinning. *This wasn’t me.* “For what he has done.” A door shimmered into view. A wooden door. My door. Nailed onto the door was my head, blood running down the wood in the shape of a cross. My skull was bleached, polished until it shone in the most unholy light of this place, and a golden coin was stuffed in each of my eyes. I screamed, and my eyes snapped open and I jolted out of bed. The lights were on. The place reeked of death. Blood crawled down from the holes, raining down on the dead bodies that were scattered all over the floor. It was the creatures, I realised, perfectly still and so pale in their final moments. They were surrounded by piles of human guts that curled around them like steaming hot noodles. Every one of them had a golden coin stuffed into each eye. I was truly awake now. Plans came racing through my mind. I needed Eric. I needed to get out of here. I needed to call the police. I needed to… Heavy footsteps stormed into my room, and all those plans flew out of my head as my mind crumpled. “Eric?” It wasn’t Eric though. It looked like somebody had torn off his face and put it on himself like a mask, but didn’t put it on properly. He towered over me, easily three times my height, and glared down at me with scarlet eyes as I shrank back against the walls. A forked tongue darted out and tasted the shadows. “Thief!” he thundered. “You dare steal from me?” “You dare spy on me through my dreams?” Eric raised an arm, pale and spindly like tree branches, and more of those creatures poured out through the holes. I edged towards the door. “No!” I blubbered. “I…I just…” Time was not on my side. One of the creatures noticed me trying to leave and jumped up and down at Eric’s feet. The message spread through them like wildfire. They lunged for the door. I squeezed out and slammed it shut, and bodies clattered down to the floor. But the holes were getting bigger, swallowing up our television, our furniture, *everything*—and this time they were armed. Spears stuck on sticks, the blades made of human teeth. They chittered, they jabbed, and I ran, faster than I ever had in my life, until my breath was coming out in short gasps. I got to the front door and just managed to dart out. I could still hear them yelling on the other side; and already a crown-shape hole was forming on my front door. A baby at first, but growing at a rapid rate. A single golden coin fell at my feet. Head’s up, coated with blood. I wished now I left those things alone. Then one of the creatures poked their head through the hole. It hissed, prepared to jump. I knew what would happen if I stayed there any longer. I ran. *** I had been moving around ever since, not daring to stay in the same place for more than a day. I didn’t use my newfound wealth, for fear that they would find me. Rather, I slept behind rubbish bins and in deserted alleyways, hoping they wouldn’t find me. Today, I am huddled up against this vandalised wall, typing on a cheap laptop I bought for myself. The cold wind is biting my cheek and slices into it like a knife. I shiver and rub my hands to keep myself warm. Something is hitting my head. *Plonk* *Plonk* *PLONK* It is raining golden coins. I don’t dare look up. I already know who is on the roof. Eric’s shadow is falling against my own. Gotta run, gotta go. But I don’t have much hope left. I know this could possibly be the end. Because a hole is opening up in the wall right behind me. [It is the shape of a three-pointed crown.](https://www.reddit.com/r/SimbaKingdom/comments/vpixk6/boo/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf) [SK](https://www.reddit.com/r/SimbaKingdom/)

Its in my head and I know what it wants

y7hdjp

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y7hdjp/its_in_my_head_and_i_know_what_it_wants/

I awoke in a panic once again. Unable to move a muscle. Not even the slightest of twitch. My vocal cords felt like they were snipped in half. The panic rose. It was dark in my room, and I was under my covers. It felt like a dream state, like I was floating. But I was awake, very much awake. I tried to scream but my voice failed me. My muscles surged to break me free from the paralysis, but I was defeated. Shadows danced around me as something lingered in the darkness of my room. A sense of urgency was there that I needed to get away from here or something bad will happen. The impending feeling of doom. This is my weekly routine that plagues my sleep consistently. I knew it was coming, like it did since the very first time a few weeks ago. A thin, electric blue line of flames ripped through the darkness of my bedroom. The sleep paralysis froze me in place. Only the sounds of my muffled screams echoed in my head. The flames drew from ceiling to floor, pulling itself apart at its width. It was a portal; and it was opening before me. The celestial colors illuminated my room as the portal opened wider. Panic coursed through my body, soaking my sheets in sweat as the blue and purples burned my eyes. But I could not look away. I was drawn to the other side. I could feel my eyes being pulled towards the portal, as if they were going to be ripped out of my head. But it felt ok, I felt euphoria as the fear subsided. Time seemed to stand still, and I accepted my fate. My semi trance was snapped when a pale white arm protruded from the portal. Its fingers curled with sharp red nails. Veins traced its bulging arm as more of the entity emerged. It stood before me, tall and radiating with light. The fear returned tenfold. This was death I imagined. Its jaw hung loose, dripping with saliva. Eyes like I had never seen on a creature before, as if it had multiple pupils all capable of looking in different directions, all different colors. The figure stepped closer to me, it burst with heat as I felt my skin scorching. Blisters bubbled along my arms and face, bursting with fluid as the creature met his eyes to mine. As his jaw unhinged further, revealing countless rows of swirling teeth. It sank its jaws into my neck. I jolted from bed drenched in sweat. My heart nearly beating out of my chest. There was no portal, my room was empty, and I was alone. My sheets were soaked, and I came to realization that it was just another dream. Another dream where the entity from the portal takes me. The fifth time this month. But this time, it left something behind. On my arm was the tiniest of blisters. Strange to have a blister in autumn. I had barely been outside, and I had worn coats most of the time. My mind flashed back to my dream, praying not to make a connection but it was a struggle not too. School was uneventful that day. I had slept through nearly all my morning period classes, slept through study hall, and casually went through gym. All that was left was lunch and three more annoying classes. All through the day my mind couldn’t get away from the entity in my dreams. I had tried drawing it, researching dream analysis online but I was not able to come to any conclusions. I chalked it up to having cut back on smoking weed, I heard that you have more vivid dreams after quitting. But that blister on my arm kept bugging me and causing doubts. It rubbed against my long sleeve, irritating it till it was tender and hot. Painful. At the start of seventh period I excused myself to the bathroom. The halls were quiet as everyone was white knuckling their way to the end of the day at this point. I took a casual stroll to the farthest bathroom to kill more time. This bathroom was near the gym and did not get much use. For me, it was perfect to get away from everyone. I closed the stall door and began scrolling on my phone, I had at least ten minutes before someone came looking for me. To my disappointment, the bathroom door opened. The light flicked and struggled to stay on as it buzzed it life. The blister on my arm began to pulse. The person did not move, the door kept swinging open and then closing. Rickety as can be the door swung before I heard their footsteps. It sounded like they had walked in a puddle and their shoe filled with water. Strange since it was bright sunny day out there. They moved till they were standing in front of my stall. They were barefoot, pale and had long toenails. They tried to open the stall door. I yelled out that it was taken but they kept trying to open. I held the door closed as hard as I could, the lights flickered on and off and that same feeling of panic washed over me. The blisters on my skin began to pop up as if they were multiplying. My eye caught something between the space of the doors, a similar face I had been seeing all month. It was the same entity from my dreams. That feverish heat washed over me. I could hear it in my head. Calling for me. Bright blues and purples flashed before my eyes. I was seeing something not of this world. Some thing else was out there. But it was coming for me, and dread and fear latched onto my soul ready to consume me. I cried, begged, and prayed for it to end as the entity violently rocked the door. Debris from the ceiling rained down on me and a thunderous boom of drums filled my head. A voice inside me questioned “Am I going crazy”. And in a flash, just when I thought the pounding on the door would snap the hinges and the entity would consume me like in the dreams. I was alone in the smelly bathroom screaming to myself. Teachers were starting to come in, asking if I was alright. I must have been loud I figured. Still drenched in sweat with more blisters on my arm, my fears were shaken to life. This is real, very real. And it’s after me. The rest of the weeks after that bathroom incident felt like a blur of paranoia. It has been following me. I can see its eyes in inside the lockers I pass. The lunch lady serving sloppy joes has its same mouth. The voices in my head calling for me. Its out there looking for me, I feel like I am going crazy. The portal opened itself to me time and time again, there must be a way for me to open it again. Maybe this time I would step inside on my own. But something was different this past week. A new sense overtook me. One of obedience. I think the entity wants someone, maybe not just me? Why would I be the only one when there are plenty of people for it to take. I waited outside her house, perched behind a large bush. Like I had done day after day now. That same feeling of being watched loomed over me. A passenger in a car driving by looked eerily familiar to it. The old woman across the street seemed to be watching me, is that it? I thought. But I continued. The voices grew louder each day. I finally have the courage tonight. She is home alone as usual. I knew her schedule decently, I felt confident. I knew I could get her. If I can, maybe the entity will be pleased, maybe the portal will be revealed to me. If you are reading this now, I hope that I am no longer on this plane of existence. I have seen with my eyes what lies behind the portal. And I can take her there with me.

It's been five years since I left the forest

y7e1vh

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y7e1vh/its_been_five_years_since_i_left_the_forest/

It was a while back I had just finished my junior year of high school when my parents said I and some friends and some friends can go on a camping trip... DAY 1: The day was like any other day when it started happening, We were eating some PB&J sandwiches when Brody brought up that he was hearing things and was seeing figures outside his tent he described it as a giant greater with long pointy fingers, he said it was about 7 feet tall, we weren't buying into it and said it was probably a squirrel or deer. But it did kind of put us on edge for the days to come DAY 2: It started with the smell of rotten flesh, after checking around we found a squirrel's dismembered corpse in the shape of a pentagram on a stone, that's when we heard screaming as Brody was running towards us, but. it wasn't Brody, it looked like him, it spoke like him. but it wasn't him, this thing had deep never-ending eyes and no jaw, in horror John picked up a rock and bashed the things head in I looked inside and only found a deep void I didn't even see his skull, we went back into the site to pick up out things when we were Brody with a stick through his throat on a tree John three up then we left. We then ran until we found a new place in the forest. DAY 5: Everything was fine up until day 5 we started seeing things just like Brody did, until the night when John started stabbing himself with his hunting knife, I stared in horror as this happened it didn't seem like him but it was him I was scared I ran away looking for an exit in the interminable forest. DAY 10: I ran and ran but I never found the exit I was looking around when I found Johns corpse with the words, "WE KNOW YOUR HERE LANDON" that's when I felt scared, I ran and ran until I eventually found the exit I ran and searched for our car and drove off to the police station, I tried explaining the story but they wouldn't believe it and eventually I was arrested for the murder of Brody Adams and John Green. But he never left the forest... Later police created a log after 5 years of the case being cold. LOG 1: We launched an investigation to find the two dead boys, going off on the suspect we checked the forest that's where we found Brody Adams stabbed into a tree, and John Green who had multiple stab wounds, that's when we saw our suspect Landon Whiyre with a gun next to his decomposed corpse, we looked as the analysis came in, two shots in the head created by himself, and a cut off arm we don't know where his arm went but we assume he ate it, we picked up a journal and read through it. We were in horror. We got a radio from the station that Landon started banging his head again and again on the walls,"But Landon's right here." I said in horror. We took all the bodies back to the station where we confirmed their body's and identity. Then we shot the other Landon dead, that's when the cold case of 5 years was finally solved

Remember when everyone was “finding” lost episodes to tv shows? I think I found all of them.

y6kj2o

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y6kj2o/remember_when_everyone_was_finding_lost_episodes/

Remember when everyone was “finding” lost episodes to tv shows? It was usually kids' shows, and they always go the same way. Everyone acts cruel, somebody dies in a gory fashion, the end. It was fun for a while, but the formula got repetitive. And of course, no one thought they were real. Like everyone else, I hadn’t thought of lost episodes since maybe 2015. Well, now I’m thinking about them a lot more than I ever did back then. I found it at a yard sale. Yes, I go to those. Why yes, I do have cases of video games from the 90s and bootleg horror movie compilations. It’s also a great way to get your hands on cheap tools. Anyway, among the immensely crappy bargain bin comedies, one dvd case stood out. It was obviously some sort of compilation by the oversized case. The cover was bright and loud, I noticed it was made up of many smaller pictures. As the only thing that stood out in the bin, I picked it up immediately. “Lost Episodes Anthology” That was the title. I read it out loud in confusion. My first thought even then wasn’t “that” kind of lost episode. This was a whole, physical dvd. That just wouldn’t make sense. I assumed it was a compilation of unaired episodes of old tv shows. The traditional kind of lost episode. Still, the fact it caught my interest, and had no obvious indication what shows it might hold, meant that for the asking price of one dollar, it was a no-brainer to just buy and check it out more at home. So I did just that. I paid the perfectly ordinary middle-class late thirty-something’s running the yard sale and went on my way. It actually took a few days to pull out the dvd and take a look at it again. I wouldn’t say I totally forgot about it. But, it didn’t make a huge impression on me, so it took a while to top my to-watch list. The next Saturday evening though, with nothing good to watch, I decided to give it another look. A good close look at the case answered something I wasn’t certain about with only a quick glance at the sale; it had to be bootleg. The front only had the title, “Lost Episodes Anthology”, and the back had no text at all. There were none of the usual markings of a dvd, blu-ray, etc to be found on the case either. A closer look at the cover was… confusing to say the least. The little pictures making up a nonsensical collage were just screenshots of series. The weird part was just how many random series. I saw Lucy Ricardo laughing and Walter White crying. I think Jack Benny might have been in there sharing a cover with Jon Snow and Sheldon Cooper. Did someone try to take a clip of every tv show ever? And no, they weren’t all American. I just named the characters I recognized instantly. More than a few Indian, Korean, and many others were in there too. A fact that was itself possibly even more odd as it threw the nationality even of this disc in question. With nothing to go on from the case, I opened it up. Inside was a single dvd. I admit I had expected more from the oversized case, most compilations, especially cheap ones, are on multiple discs. That led me to assume it was only going to be a few episodes. I quickly learned my assumption was wrong. In the front cover of the case was a booklet. I was immediately happy to see something that I assumed would answer my question. On the front of the booklet, in the same simple font, was the title again, “Lost Episode Anthology”. I opened the booklet. The contents confused me at very first glance. It was a list, no other text. But, the font was incredibly small, each little page had three rows of entries, each title so minuscule the rows were dozens of titles long. It made no sense. I flipped through the booklet, six pages, each the same. There were no credits, no logos, just titles. Easily over three hundred titles given without context filled the book. What the hell was this? The disc couldn’t possibly hold that many episodes. Nor could any company possibly have rights, and it was ridiculous to imagine a bootlegger compiling such a thing. Finally, that many series couldn’t have “lost episodes”, unless the bar was lowered to any scraps of unaired footage. The obvious next step to take was zooming in with my phone and trying to make sense of the list. It made no sense. It seemed to list everything. I mean nearly everything. Every famous show ever: Heroes I Love Lucy Happy Days Game of Thrones Arrow You get the picture, right? All the people I saw on the cover, and anything more I could think to look for. Then I scanned it for obscure titles. Obscure fandoms I fell into that few people would know about. Surprise surprise: Wynonna Earp? On the list. Clutch Cargo of all ridiculous things? On the list. This settled the matter to me that the list could not possibly be the actual contents of the disc. Honestly, the list itself was a little unsettling to look through for long. Nothing was explicitly wrong, but it felt off how I was able to navigate through the items. It’s hard to explain exactly why. The best I can say is it was too easy to find each item. I was able to navigate the list because it was alphabetized. If I wanted to find Mo, I flipped to where Ma should be, and skimmed down the list to Mo. It felt strange though. Like I only needed to go past maybe a dozen titles until I was looking at Mobile Suit Gundam. But if I actually looked for titles with Ma or Me, the list was exhaustively long. Still, I couldn’t confirm anything was actually up with carefully photographing and cataloging the list, something I had no interest in doing right then. The only other interesting thing about the list was the last item. It wasn’t alphabetized, instead, it read “Director’s Commentary”. “Director’s Commentary”? Which director? Wasn’t this a compilation of shows? Though, when it couldn’t possibly be that encyclopedic list in the case, I supposed even that was in question. The only way to find out was to put the disc in. I popped it straight into a dvd player. No way I was putting this increasingly shady thing into any device with an internet connection. After a blank blue screen lingered for a few seconds, the disc went straight to the main menu. I was not terribly surprised that there were none of the typical screens a legal dvd would have. The menu used the exact same collage as the box for its background. There were three items: “Search Title” “Random Episode” “Director’s Commentary” That was it. There was no list of episodes. Which, despite my disbelief, meant that the insert in the box was obviously supposed to be how I would pick. This dvd truly claimed to hold “lost” episodes from virtually every tv show ever produced under the heavens. What was I going to see? Clips? Gag reels? Some weirdo’s amateurish home production? I needed to play something to learn. I could have picked a random episode, but I wanted to know what would happen if I searched for any given title. So, I typed in a name. I picked “The Smurfs”. It just seemed like something this sort of collection would have, and first I wanted to see what these episodes were. Later, I could get to checking how many were actually in there. Two entries came up. “The Smurfs (1961)” and “The Smurfs (1981)”. Okay, I did not expect that. I made a mental note to look up whatever the hell that is even before selecting 1981. The Smurfs intro started to play. I was taken aback. I still didn’t truly expect anything real to play. But, the intro was in full, professional quality, not even a crappy rip. Everything looked normal, and then a title card appeared. “The Forest Festival Folly.” I immediately looked it up. No such episode existed. The title would have fit just fine in any list, it sounded just like real episodes such as “The Magnifying Mixture”, but it just wasn’t there. The episode ran just like any other. The quality was completely identical to a real episode, the voices matched. Everything fit perfectly. The plot saw the Smurfs preparing for some animal friendship festival. The idea seemed to be that the animals would pick smurfberries and give them to the Smurfs as thank you for all the village does to protect the forest. Handy Smurf gets it in his head to invent a machine to help the animals out in gathering the berries, not understanding that this defeats the purpose of the event. Gargamel catches wind of things, as usual, comes up with a crazy plan to catch the Smurfs, as usual, catches a load of Smurfs, as usual, and the friends they made along the way come in to rescue, as usual. Except they didn’t. Obviously, Handy’s machines should have been used by the woodland critters to rescue the Smurfs, and Handy should have admitted that he should have never drawn Gargamel’s attention by meddling in the first place. By the Smurfs are captured without anyone learning anything. There are teary apologies, forgiveness, and then dead Smurfs. All in the style of the original cartoon. No hyper-realistic blood. Just goofy, Hanna-Barbera, dead Smurfs. I was shocked, and very freaked out. That was actually the moment I thought of the old lost episodes stories. Nothing until then suggested any kind of horror. I wasn’t traumatized or anything, but it was deeply uncomfortable seeing Smurfs boiled to death in exactly the style I saw them when I was a kid. I hit the power on the tv and took a moment to take stock of what I just saw. Fan projects to make lost episodes always look like just that. No budget, crappy photoshop jobs or awful splicing of scenes into some half-assed abomination. No one has the budget to make real, full lost episodes. Even if they did, how the hell did they fake those voices? That was Don Messick to a T. The episode was too complete, too high quality, to be a production prank. The most mental gymnastics I could do to justify that thing's existence was that maybe the episode was a real unused episode, and the bad ending was a joke. Or, someone with a lot of money and talent spent a long time on that. I realized that there was a way to rule out the latter idea entirely. I turned the tv back on, navigated back to the menu, and selected search again. Then, I typed in “Breaking Bad”. A live-action show would be impossible to mock up even with incredible talent and dedication. The actors are either there, or they aren’t. And no, I don’t believe anyone yet has the skill to deepfake an entire, plausible-looking episode of “Breaking Bad” yet. Oh, a fun aside: I had never actually watched the show until this incident. All of the online jokes make me think of it as the default example of modern television though, that’s why I noticed it on the box and thought to search it. The episode started up. Just like the Smurfs, everything seemed normal. I can’t tell you what season this was in, or what exactly was happening, for the reasons I just gave, but I could tell this was continuing off of events I assume actually happened in the show. Walter White was trying to keep a hold on his meth empire, dealing with the collateral it is taking on his life, etc. I already told you; I’m not informed enough to talk educatedly about this one. I absolutely know when it went wrong though. Walt believes Jesse is selling him out. An argument ensues. Walt straight-up kills him. Then, he proceeds to disassemble his body and dissolve it in excruciating detail. He is clearly tormented by this though and thrown off his game far more severely than the average betrayal and killing in the show. He attempts to pull off some deal (again, continuing some ongoing plot), but badly botched it and gets himself killed. I think it was half on purpose, really. That was awful, and fucked up. Not hugely more than the pretty dark show it was based on (or so I gather), but like the Smurfs, it somehow juggled being completely plausible with luridly dwelling on the unexpected brutality and deaths of the main characters. I think if I had known the plots and stories more, I would have felt the breakdown harder. Or would I? It’s fair to say at this point I was enthralled. What I just saw was impossible. Flat out impossible. There is no way a full-length episode of perfect quality was edited together like that. The actors were impeccably perfect to nearly a decade ago. The action was unbroken and yet included scenes that would never have been filmed. Now that I knew what I was in for, it was time to let it hit me where it would hurt. I wanted to feel the real impact of a lost episode. I went back to the menu again. This time, I searched for “Wynonna Earp”. Yes, I was going to watch my own niche interest. First, the important fact I learned: Yes, these episodes do fit themselves into the stories of the show, seemingly at easy points to create the gruesome endings they depict. In this case, it picked up immediately after the end of the first season, where the real season 2 episode 1 should be. I’ll keep the synopsis as simple as I can. The B plot deals with the titular protagonist’s younger sister, Waverly, being infected by a demon. In the real show, this was only faintly mentioned until a few episodes later. In this version, it immediately starts behaving in classic evil possession style, wickedly sewing doubts and divisions among the characters. Here it is much more blunt and cruel though. It immediately brutally mocks Waverly’s girlfriend, Nicole, and breaks their relationship. The scenes are unnecessarily cruel and filled with homophobic slurs. The A plot sees Wynonna far more depressed by the death of her sister at the climax of season 1. Her typically comical alcoholism grows out of control. Love interests Doc Holliday tries to reign in her behavior, but she rebuffs him. This is all fairly in character and resembles plots covered later in the show, just a tad darker. It grows worse and worse though. Ultimately, she picks a fight with revenants, the monstrous villains of the show, while far too depressed and intoxicated for her skills and is brutally killed. Doc, Dolls, and Nicole try to pull together and see if anything can be done, but without the protagonist's supernatural gun, and with the intervention of possessed Waverly, all are easily killed. I explain this all so you know, yes, unlike my other vague synopsis, everything here makes sense and fits the show. These “lost episodes” don’t just have the right characters and setting, they fit into their show’s canon. I’m not going to lie. What I just saw was depressing and hurtful. Seeing a character I actually like spew vile, hurtful words and then everybody die was awful to watch. But what I had was amazing: beautiful, useless, and amazing. I could see actors dead for seventy years acting again. I could see completely authentic, even if utterly horrific, episodes of shows canceled decades ago. Hell, this thing might make endings for shows canceled on a cliffhanger. Sure, it would be a bad ending, but it’s still something, and something impossible that only I had. So I watched that thing. I watched episode after episode, all night long. It was exactly like staring at a car crash, sickeningly fascinating and with a desire to piece together what happened. I watched all-new innocent family-friendly jokes from “I Love Lucy” end in screams and flame as the cross-country car trip arc instead ended in a crash with no survivors. I watched every one of Candace’s fears for Phineas and Ferb realized. Special Agent Fox Mulder truly learned the final truth. I didn’t need sleep. Not with these new wonders to see. Does knowing there is going to be a bad ending ruin the fun? If you think about it, not really. Traditionally, you always knew there was going to be a good ending at the end of every episode. And even if that isn’t really true of tv anymore, it still very much is in movies. I knew how it was going to end, but the journey to get there was every bit as interesting. Just what trouble was Richie going to get himself into to land a date this time, and how were he and the Fonz going to die in agony getting out of it? My wake-up alarm went off halfway through an episode. I had to get ready for work. With an exhausted groan, I hit pause and turned off the tv. It was another painfully repetitive dead-end day of labor. I had something to look forward to now though. It was a grim and strange miracle. But can anyone deny that in this mundane world, being possibly the sole owner of something truly, unmistakably magical wouldn’t change things? A dvd of bad ending might not be a dragon’s egg, or the Holy Grail, but it was my own magical artifact, and it was amazing. The whole entire workday was spent waiting to get home. It actually felt good to be eagerly waiting for something again, even if I was irritating to be forced to wait. The instant I was home I went straight to my lost episodes again. I had so many shows I was curious to see. By this point, I was looking up shows I had never even been interested in just to see how it would make them go wrong. Of course, my body needed to sleep eventually. I passed out sometime during the night while watching more episodes. Or at least I think I did? If I did, then I dreamed of death, people I know dying, people I had only seen or barely met dying. I watched lost episodes of life. My wake-up alarm went off. I had to be back at work. I turned the tv off. I pushed through the workday just wanting to see more lost episodes. Obviously the “Wacky Races” would just end in a bloody pile up, but how would Katarina Claes get herself killed in “My Next Life as a Villainess”? I was even more antsy throughout the day. I just wanted home again. All I wanted was to curl up and watch my disc. And it repeated again the next day. The dreams again too, if they were dreams. I still couldn’t have told you. It was becoming my pattern, except I couldn’t keep it going. I didn’t even realize it at the time, but I was becoming less stable with each passing hour. By then, I thought of the visions, dreams, whatever, constantly. I looked at people, and I knew how they would die (could die?). I fell in love with the tragic beauty of violence. I snapped while doing perfectly ordinary work. My supervisor gave me a typical instruction. “Fuck off.” Not surprisingly, I took a few seconds to even realize what I’d said. It was all the more shocking because my supervisor is actually kind of a friend. She’s stuck in the same shitty gig, just for about a decade longer, and so past hope of getting out. “Shit! I’m sorry! I’m… I’m not feeling okay.” I lamely babbled out my apology and excuse. “You sure aren’t.” She stared me down. “I’ll call in sick tomorrow.” She sighed. “Do that. Something ain’t right about you. You need to get it sorted.” I let out the breath I’d been holding. I was just so relieved that I wasn’t fired. I knew it wouldn’t last long though. Not how things were. I finished out the day and went home again. For the first time in days, I didn’t run to my tv chair. I just stood in the doorway for a few minutes and thought about what was happening. I let myself feel what was happening. Christ, I hadn’t eaten in days. That only occurred to me then. My body was so weak. I still didn’t know if I’d actually slept either. I dragged myself back over to the tv. Turning it on, I saw that it was still playing. A dying Buffy was tearfully apologizing to dark Willow I think. I sent it back to the menu. I clicked down the options to the Director’s Commentary. I knew that I needed to see it. It was the only thing left to learn. It was the only thing left to give me answers before I cut this thing out of my life. I clicked play. The screen showed a dark room with a blacked out figure sitting in it. It was just like when documentaries and things try to keep a person's identity secret. “Why don’t you introduce yourself.” A deep, heavily digitally distorted voice spoke from behind the camera. “I am the Director.” A higher pitched but equally distorted voice responded. “Let the audience know a little about what that means. Did you direct these episodes?” The interviewer asked. The Director laughed. “Haha! No. I just collected them. It’s my passion. I want these pieces to be available and seen as the complete expression they are. The Director is a nickname, a title of sorts, given to me because of how often I screened and distributed these pieces to interested parties.” “So tell us a little about these episodes, and what they mean to you.” The interviewer continued this incredibly ordinary interview, except for the anonymity. “Media, traditional media, is how humanity expresses how it sees itself. Lost episodes are the other side of this. Lost episodes are how media expresses humanity. If a movie, or a tv series are a self-image, what we see in our mind's eye, then a lost episode is the mirror image, what the world sees.” “So lost episodes are a natural phenomenon?” “They are.” The Director agreed. “And a useful one, an important one.” They help us to understand who we are. I have a little thing I like to do with people when I explain it. Take the dvd. Look at it.” I stared blankly at the screen. “Go on. Look at it.” The Director urged. I numbly popped out the disc. I was no longer surprised when the screen didn’t change. I looked at the back of the disc. “A dvd is just a mirror. I know this is a bit of a platitude, but it is true. It is a mirror holding data. But the most important data it holds is what it reflects about the person who watches it.” I stared at my face in the disc. I saw a haggard, anxious, angry figure. I saw a weakness and age I had never seen before. “Lost episodes are not ghosts. They are not a demon. They are a choice, and like any choice, the websites you visit, the friends you keep, you will get out of them what you put in.” I didn’t want to be the person I was becoming. I saw that in the mirror. I never saw people. I never did anything. Not after the disc. I didn’t want to be the person I was becoming when I found the disc. Just going out to check out a yard sale was the healthiest choice I had made in months. I stood up and turned off the tv. “Goodbye.” The Director signed off as the screen went dark. I put the disc away in the case and went out to my car. I drove out into the night. I knew where I was going, but I didn’t hurry to get there. I enjoyed the stars for a little while. I took simple pleasure in eating the forgotten snacks in my vehicle at stop lights until I reached my destination. I dropped the disc off in one of those free book exchange boxes. Sure, it wasn’t the right sort of media, but I think it would find where it needed to be. I got home, I drank a warm glass of milk. I went to bed, and I slept.

i keep hearing it

y76bmv

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y76bmv/i_keep_hearing_it/

I keep hearing it. I swear it’s real, but it doesn’t make any sense. I haven’t mentioned anything to dad, cause it might just be my imagination, I hear weird things at mom’s apartment all the time. I didn’t start school until 1 pm today so I was able to just chill in the apartment for a while. That’s when I heard it again. Just as I was leaving for the bus. There was a stroller in the corner of the floor between the two other apartment doors. I figured that was where the sound was coming from but the second I set foot outside of the apartment the noise stopped. As much as I wanted to stand there in my confusion I didn’t want to miss the bus. Class was boring as usual. Swedish has never been my favorite subject and I was not in the mood for writing an analysis of a short story so I just wasted time by scrolling through reddit. When class was over I grabbed my things from my locker as usual and after saying goodbye to my friends, I sat down with my headphones in on the black couch next to the ping pong table with a book, waiting for my dad to come pick me up. Aside from a couple of kids and their parents walking past to get to their music class, it was fairly quiet. But I swear I could hear it again. The sound was faint, like it was coming from two rooms over but I couldn’t tell in which direction. It didn’t make sense. The sound was back and louder than before by the time I got home. As soon as I stepped into the apartment it was there. Louder than the workers outside, louder than my dad speaking to the birds, louder than the birds themselves. But he didn’t seem to notice. Maybe I was going crazy. Or it was all some sick prank with some hidden speaker inside of the apartment. Did that mean someone was watching? How else could the sound stop the moment I stepped outside? If dad’s in on it I can’t ask him, he’ll either pretend he doesn’t know what I’m talking about or actually think I’m crazy. I started hearing it at night too. It kept growing louder and louder. At first I thought it was coming from underneath my bed, but there was nothing there. The closet was empty too. Every drawer, every box, nothing. I didn’t know what else to do so I just plugged in my headphones and turned the music up, thinking that I could drown out the noise and fall asleep. But then I started seeing things. Small faces pushing through the wallpaper, through the floor, even through the covers. I ripped my headphones out and the sound of it was worse than ever. It felt as if my ears would start bleeding at any second because of how loud it was. My heart started beating faster and my tears threatened to spill over as I quickly tiptoed through my room and out to the living room. The birds had no reaction to me leaving my room, at least I couldn’t hear it if they did with the sound following me. I didn’t run outside. I didn’t want to waste time pulling on shoes and a jacket, I didn’t want to wake my dad up or go to my mom’s place because then I’d have to explain what had been happening. Instead I ran across the room and around the edge of the L-shaped couch to the balcony door. I pushed it open and stepped out onto the cold wood and the sound stopped. I turned around the grab a blanket to deal with the cold air seeping in through the glass when I saw this mass of billowing shadow on the coffee table. It had been a gift to my dad for his birthday, one, two years ago, I couldn’t remember. We’d covered it with a blanket but he hadn’t noticed anything different. We laughed at it. But this was no laughing matter. I quickly snatched up the blanket and pulled it to myself as I watched the mass of shadow slowly take form. Without taking my eyes off of it, I slowly pushed the door closed until there was only a centimeter or two of space left and turned the handle to lock it into place. Only for a second, I looked away to sit down on the couch and wrap the blanket around myself, I looked away. Then it was there. A crying infant wrapped in a cloth was lying on the wooden coffee table, waving its arms and distorting its features as it wailed. But nothing could be heard from the balcony. It’s past midnight when I’m writing this. I probably should’ve brought a charger with me because I don’t think I can go back inside without bursting my eardrums. I’m scared what it will do if I go inside again. Maybe it will make it real. Is it still going to be there in the morning when my dad gets up? Will he see it? Will it do something to him? I don’t know what to do, my only plan is to just sit here and wait, hope that it goes away. Maybe dad can help me in the morning, that is if it doesn’t get to him first. It feels evil.

I Lobotomised My Psych Patient Because I Believed the Story He Told Me...

y6cqpr

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y6cqpr/i_lobotomised_my_psych_patient_because_i_believed/

In 1955 I was a spritely 26 year old, I had just graduated in the field of psychology and landed a job in a hospital for the mentally afflicted. Terrible, awful places those hospitals were. Understaffed and overcrowded. It wasn’t uncommon to walk into a room and find a patient sullied in their own filth left unattended for days.  Many of those patients had been placed into our care by their own kin. Forsaken on our doorstep, no different to an animal discarded at the pound. Worse still was that as these people withered away, forgotten by all who knew them, the funding supporting their stay slowly dried up as well. Some families chose to forgo their payments, others simply denied ever making any at all and the monetary support provided by the state could only stretch so far.  However, among the great number of restless souls I treated one stood out. His name was Kenzou Hagihara, though we called him Ken for the sake of simplicity. Ken was in his mid 50’s by our best estimates. His paperwork listed no birth date and no patient history. He was a state assigned ward and once a month a tall dark man in a suit would visit him.  They would sit together for hours without moving or speaking. This was especially unusual because Mr. Hagihara was ordinarily a restless man and very vocal. He would shout nonsense sentences, speaking in both perfect English and Japanese intermittently at all hours of the day. He never sat still, he twitched or jerked continually. That was of course,  until the tall man arrived. Then Ken sat motionless and silent until his departure. It was an unusual thing for certain. I was assigned to care for Kenzou after he bit his regular nurse and she refused to go near him again. For the most part he was easy to manage. He allowed me to change his bedding and clean him. He ate the meals I provided for him without throwing them against the walls. Then one day without warning he grabbed my arm.  For a small older man his clasp was surprisingly strong, his long fingers wrapped around my arm in an iron grip. His eyes were wild as he looked into mine, “They eat CHILDREN!” He hissed with an alarming urgency in his voice.  Taken aback I had absolutely no idea what the poor fellow was on about. There were no children at the hospital, nor had there ever been. I couldn’t think of any answer to give him and when I didn’t respond he shook me firmly, repeating, “They *Eat* children!”  I won’t say a word of a lie. I was terrified. I winced when he shook me, I didn’t know how to safely deescalate the situation, I had never before been faced with a predicament quite as it was and I was quite certain he would hurt me if I said the wrong thing. It was at this time of personal crisis that I remembered the teachings of one of my professors. He had preached that through building an understanding relationship with a patient one might gain insight and resolve difficulties. Of course I had never put that aspect of psychotherapy into practice before, however, with Ken in the state that he was, it seemed as good an opportunity as any, “I will listen to you, who has the children?” I asked him, speaking in a subdued tone.  Ken’s eyes widened and his grip loosened slightly. I had never expected such an effect from a single sentence, “The Dunkel Institute. They are… There is no word for it! Akuma. Akuma!” He told me urgently. Unfortunately repeating the word had little to no effect for I didn’t know what it meant.  “Tell me about the A-koo-ma?” I pronounced the word as best I could and to my relief Ken let go of my arm entirely. He moved about the room then, barricading the door and closing the curtains. He even went as far as to stuff blankets under the crack at the bottom of the door. I was in equal parts alarmed and intrigued. His actions were so deliberate. Done with such *purpose*, he was far less simple than we had thought he was.  Once he felt the room was secured he began, “My father immigrated from Japan to this country, he married an American woman soon after and I was born here along with my sister. He fought in the war too.” He paused a moment then added, “The first war, I mean. I learned two languages growing up and found work in journalism.” I listened as he explained his career achievements and I got the impression that he could almost have been sound of mind. If not perhaps a little unconventional with some strange mannerisms. I couldn’t help but wonder how he had ended up in a place like this, that was until his silence interrupted my thoughts and I realized he had stopped speaking.  He looked more nervous now, he twitched anxiously, as if what he was about to say next brought back great traumatic events. Ken seemed to try and soothe himself by clinging to repetitive patterns, eventually he began to pace as he continued his tale, “..After I became head journalist I received all manner of invites to press events. Celebrity occasions, invention unveilings..  Medical demonstrations..” He shuddered involuntarily. “Then one day I was invited to the Dunkel Institute of Psychiatry. The Institute was owned by the Small family and was well known for performing miracles, healing incurable afflictions. It had never before opened it’s doors to the press, I was, as far as I knew, the only journalist to ever be requested. Of course I would have to travel interstate to attend. However the invitation was all inclusive with both travel and accommodation accounted for.. I thought it would make my career.. So I accepted the invitation.  The establishment itself was quite some way out into the country. The boundary of the property was unmistakable. It was a giant black fence that seemed to stretch the entire length of the grounds and was adorned with sharp points a top every post. I should have known then that something was wrong. Instead I assumed it was a status symbol of their wealth, that they were rich eccentrics who valued security, or at least that was what I had intended to write in my article.  Passing through the gates of the perimeter fence the air seemed to shimmer around us and from then it took a further five or so minutes to reach the building. It was a magnificent structure. Nothing short of a castle made from flagstone, supported by timber braces and garnished with slate tiles. I couldn’t imagine how old it was.  My transport pulled up to the front gate of the building and I stumbled out awestruck. I thought I wouldn’t even have to write about the conference, I would only have to write about the exterior of the castle and the papers would fly off the press. I wasn’t sure where I was meant to go from there, was I supposed to knock on the gates or speak to the guards out front? It hardly mattered for as I stood transfixed, a shiny black vehicle came down the drive behind us.  It very nearly hit me as it skidded to a stop in a cloud of dust. The driver stepped out in a hurry, he was a very striking man. Younger than I by perhaps a few years, or blessed by the gods, sporting ash blonde hair and dressed in fine clothes. My mother always said a man’s worth is in his wardrobe and I’m sure she wished I was as handsome as this man was.  I watched as he moved to the back passenger door and pulled a child from the back seat. The child was no more than 9-years-old I was sure, with dark hair and clothes that seemed damaged though he made not a fuss at all as the man carried him. They walked past me to the gates and I noticed the smell of smoke, as if there had been a fire. I realized later that it was the pair of them who smelt like smoke and that the child wasn’t merely covered in dirt, but in ashes, soot and what looked like blood.   ‘Wash my car, then put it away. And say not a word to my brother about this.’ The man hissed at the guards as he passed, then he appeared to notice me for the first time. He seemed almost startled to see me, he glared at me for a moment, his eyes were an unusual shade of green, then he turned abruptly on his heels and disappeared into the castle.  I had the distinct feeling that I had just been threatened though not a word had been spoken to me. My presence was displeasing, or maybe I had just seen something that I wasn’t supposed to see. I was still recovering from the brief exchange when a lady approached, ’Mr. Hagihara?’ she asked, catching me off guard.   ‘Yes.’ I answered giving a bow impulsively. The woman was just as beautiful as the man was. She was shorter than I, with long straight honey brown hair and deep brown eyes. She wore a long simple dress and smiled at me as if it amused her that I had bowed.  ‘My name is Molly. Please come with me, you have arrived later than we intended and the demonstration is about to begin. I will arrange for all your belongings to be brought to your room.’ I didn’t know what I could say so I followed her as I was told. The interior of the castle was just as magnificent as the exterior and far larger than I could have ever imagined. Pathways made of cobblestone wide enough for a car to pass through made up the entire outer inner layer and mounted torches lined the walls.  Molly walked with purpose and knowledge until we came to a stop outside a set of wooden double doors.  ‘Your seat will be in the second row, on the left.’ She instructed, opening one side of the door and gesturing for me to go in.  I did as I was ordered and hurried into the room. Inside it was dim and the air smelt of freshly cut roses, though I could see no flowers. I found my seat easily for it had a small silver tray with a ‘reserved’ sign sitting on it with my name printed in Japanese. This was surprising to me, as never before had any event used my native language written or otherwise.  The seats themselves were plush covered in red velvet and arranged in a semi-circle not unlike that of a theatre. Ahead, at the centre of the room, was a stage set with a medical table that had heavy leather straps. There were others seated in the area for I could hear the low murmurs of a crowd, though with the low lighting I couldn’t see them well.   I took my seat and set up my typewriter as a waiter came with a tray of glasses and food to offer me refreshment. I declined the drink but took a small pastry. Then the lighting in the room changed. The stage lit up well and the crowd quietened. A man stepped onto the platform, he walked with authority and his boots clacked on the wood with assurance.  He too was a handsome gentleman. He looked astoundingly similar to the man I had seen at the gates except, his hair was long and tied back with a black ribbon so that only the shorter parts fell forward at the front. His attire was old, quite out of fashion for the time with a high collar and ruffles down the neckline to the breast of his coat. An excited murmur passed through the crowd and I could tell I wasn’t the only one to notice his unusual choice of clothing.  Nonetheless he spoke with confidence, ‘My friends, thank you all for coming to this exciting occasion. I am Doctor Achaicus Small and today I intend to cure one of those among you. As such you are sure to witness nothing short of a miracle. Whether you have a family member afflicted by voices of the mind or are yourself troubled by the darkest of thoughts, we are here to offer you hope for a bright future.’ He began, his voice carrying across the room like a ringmaster at the circus, ‘If you would like to be chosen for yourself or a loved one, all you need do is pray in your heart for it as hard as you can, I will choose the loudest voice shortly.’  I typed feverishly on my writer trying to print out all the important details as fast as I could. This was exactly the kind of story that people would gossip about in the streets for days, an outlandish doctor dressed in fashion from the 1700’s curing impossible diseases. I thought myself fortunate to catch this story before anyone else. Looking around the crowd more closely I noticed what I had missed initially, that many of them seemed to be sickly in some way or another. Someone not two seats to my right looked as near to death as anyone I had ever seen, behind me sat a person with abnormal facial features, wide eyes and a seemingly permanent smile. I was sitting in a crowd of the afflicted and that knowledge made me instantly uncomfortable.  Still, no good article was written without some discomfort. On stage the doctor closed his eyes, giving off the impression of ‘listening’ to the crowd’s silent pleas. I could tell by then that this was a farce. Nothing more than clever showmanship preying on the vulnerable. There was no way any one of those around me could be cured.  At last, Doctor Achaicus opened his eyes, his gaze settling on someone in the crowd several rows past me to the right, ‘Frederick.’ He spoke the name in a sickly sweet tone, ‘Your mother’s voice is very loud, I will grant you restoration.’  I couldn’t see who he was talking about, but I could hear a woman sobbing in relief as two of the Doctor’s assistants made their way up to her. When they came back down they were carrying between them a man. The man chosen was clearly sickly. Drool flowed freely from the edges of his mouth and he sagged to one side all the while making the most disturbing noises. If I’m quite frank it was disturbing to see. Like the other  patients in this place. I’m not like them.” Ken stated as a matter of factly and I chose not to correct him as he continued, “Doctor Achaicus strode over to the handicapped man, placed a hand on his shoulder and spoke directly to him. I had learned how to read lips long ago, a handy talent to have if you’re too far from an important conversation in my line of work, still I instinctively leaned forward to hear what he said. ‘You will be well soon, your mother has made a generous offer for you.’ He whispered, though I’m not sure if I truly heard the words.  Fredrick was then taken and placed on the table center stage. With assistance from the two who had brought him, he was strapped down and a woman I recognised to be Molly approached with rolls of bandage in her hands. She placed the bandages down and, at the Doctors direction, set about checking all the straps were tight while he explained, ‘This poor soul is Frederick, his mind has stretched too far, he cannot speak and he agonizes every moment. But today, *I* will cure him.’ He began. ‘I have only but to place my hand upon him and he will be cured, for you see I possess a kind of magic, gifted to me by god. I can use this magic on any who ask, if they have *the will for it*.’ Achaicus then moved to place a hand on Fredrik’s chest. A faint glow emitted from his fingertips and in response Fredrick screamed.  It was blood curling, nothing short of primal pain and fear. Thankfully it didn’t last long then he began to convulse and foam at the mouth. Molly placed the bandages between his teeth, presumably to stop him biting his own tongue off, then it was just a matter of time. I can’t tell you exactly how long it went on for, but I can say that both Molly and the Doctor seemed perfectly at ease while the crowd murmured nervously around me.  When at last Frederik began to recover the effects were astounding. He no longer drooled, nor did he make any unsavory sounds. Molly released the restraints holding him and he sat up. For a moment he looked confused, as if he had woken from a deep sleep, then he spoke, ‘Where am I?’ He asked, looking out at the crowd with uncertainty.  I sat forward in my chair with great interest. Fredrick appeared to be not only cured, but improved. He looked better than most people ever did, he was handsome now, his body was no longer contorted in any unusual ways and his speech was perfect. From the crowd a woman, who I assumed was his mother, rushed down to the stage. She was quick to throw her arms around Fredrick, wrapping him in a tight embrace which he returned unsurely.  ‘What a beautiful moment.’  The doctor commented with a smile, ‘Cured and reunited with those who matter most. I can help all of you. Over the next few days I will make myself available to hear all your pleas, you have all been assigned a time, it is written on the back of your reservation sign. It is best that you are diligent in attending your assigned session. Please also remember that patience is a virtue, I will not see anyone before their assigned time no matter the reason.’  I checked the back of my reservation then, the time written was *1:07am Wednesday*. An odd time I thought, but stranger still was why I would need an appointment at all. I was sound of mind and no one I knew was afflicted. I couldn’t see any reason I should have an appointment, aside from to satisfy my own curiosity of course.  The doctor continued talking though I paid little mind as movement at the edge of the stage caught my attention. The man I had seen at the gates arrived there, and stood beside the platform. He spoke to Molly for a moment, I thought she said, ‘You’re late.’ Though I can’t be sure. However if that was the case the man showed no sign that he cared. He simply stepped up onto the stage and Achaicus stopped speaking mid sentence. ‘I-… Little brother.’ Achaicus smiled, ‘At last. I thought you wouldn’t make it! Ladies and gentlemen, let me introduce to you my baby brother, Doctor Nathaniel Small, do try not to get us confused. He believes in being tardy to all events.’ Nathaniel gave a polite bow before speaking up, ‘Dressed as you are brother, I doubt many could confuse us.’ He assured the crowd joining in the jest. It was only then that I noticed how similar they did indeed appear. If not for the variance in dress and hair style I might not have been able to determine which was which.  ‘Perhaps.’ The man responded though seemed to be slightly annoyed at the returned remark. I’m trained to notice those kinds of things you know. Nothing sells papers like conflict and scandal.” Ken said with an affirmative nod to himself. I wondered if he remembered I was there.  “After that we were permitted to leave. In order to make my appointment time I would need to stay one more day, as it was only Tuesday. Though truthfully I had no intention of attending the session. Instead I planned to use the extra time to investigate. I was sure I would dig up some dirt on the esteemed Small family.. I thought with the odd natures of these people that I could get enough material to keep people hanging on the papers for days. I didn’t waste any time either. As soon as it got dark I left my assigned room and skulked about the castle. At first all seemed disappointingly normal, I wandered the corridors and found nothing. Speaking to servants of the manner was also pointless. They all repeated the same phrase ‘We are contracted to work here, and it is a pleasure.’ no one had a bad word to say - that would make for dull reading.  However as I rounded the bend in the corridor I realized I could hear the foot fall of others and accompanying voices. I quietened my own steps and listened.  ‘You seem to be in better spirits now little brother. You were so dreary for weeks after your pet Orphan died, but did you really have to burn down the orphanage? It’s going to take months to find another suitable source.’ I recognised the voice, it was Doctor Achaicus though I didn’t understand what he was talking about. A long moment and no response, then Achaicus spoke again, ‘Come now Nathaniel, you’re not still upset are you? I allowed you to attend the funeral as you wished, what more do you need?’ He sounded exasperated.  ‘Must you always go to such lengths with the theatrics?’ Nathaniel responded at last changing the subject.  ‘Humans love showmanship. And you know as well as I that they will give so much more if they believe God is making the request.’  ‘It’s distasteful.’  ‘Is that what your problem is now?’  ’Why must you insist something is wrong? You said yourself that I’m no longer ‘dreary’. What more is it that you want?’  There was another long pause, ‘You’re hiding something from me little brother.’ ‘I’m hiding nothing. I will find another way to get more children, we have supply enough for now. Focus your time on your ‘miracles’ but I will have nothing more to do with it. I have other matters to attend to…’   Though I strained to hear more, the voices faded and when I followed after where I thought they had gone I found only empty hallways. It was perplexing that they could get far enough ahead of me that I would lose them in such a short stretch of time. Disappointed, I returned to my room, though I couldn’t help but lament on their conversation.  As far as I was aware, the Dunkel Institute did not deal with children, only adults. I remembered the child I saw at the gates with Nathaniel, perhaps I was wrong. I thought about it for a considerable time, I couldn’t imagine what any establishment would need a supply of orphans for but I was determined to uncover the truth. I had found my headline story.  It’s sometimes difficult to know where to start an investigation. Fortunately, as I was in the business of exposing secrets I knew where to find things that people didn’t want found and so I spent the following day lurking in lesser traveled halls. If there was a crowd I avoided the area. Whenever I caught word of any hushed conversation I listened in.  Unfortunately I made little progress. At one time I followed Achaicus all the way to his personal chambers, though there was nothing exciting in that to report. However, it was as I was making my way back that I stumbled across what seemed to be a private garden. I didn’t think I would find anything of interest there, but the plants fascinated me.  They were unlike any I had ever seen, there were trees and shrubs of all sizes with iridescent glowing flowers. Fascinated, I moved through the foliage carelessly until the sound of metal hitting on metal caught my attention. I hid quickly, then dared to investigate further.  From my vantage point I could see Nathaniel, he was wielding a sword and sparring with a much smaller opponent. I had never seen anyone use a sword before, and haven’t since, they’re such an outdated weapon. Even my father kept his katanas for show only. It was with a start that it dawned on me, the man was sparring with a child, the one I had seen him with before.  The boy seemed slow and struggled to move effectively as the man swung at him. I realized then that he was wearing a leg brace and watched in horror as the child fell back. He flinched as Nathaniel swung the sword down on him, stopping only a breath away from slicing him in two.  ‘You lose again.’ Nathaniel stated calmly. At this the boy seemed annoyed, ’Then fight me again. I’ll win.’  ‘Delusional.’ The man scoffed, though now helped him stand, ‘You’re far too weak to win.’  ‘I’m not weak! It’s my leg, you said if I fulfilled the contract-‘  Nathaniel held up a hand, interrupting him, ’Now Eric, you didn’t ‘fulfill’ the contract, you broke it. I know as well as you do that you didn’t kill that nun.’  The boy looked surprised, ‘Yes I did! I stabbed her. How do you know?’ He lied poorly as children do when caught out.  ’I know because it was another who fulfilled the contract. Now answer me this, you had the intent and you named her as your choice. So why did you change your mind when you found her? Moreover, your job was already done, why pull the knife out? And why put it back in? Did you think I would be so easily fooled?’  ‘..No, I wasn’t trying to trick you.. I thought I had done it by thinking about it with magic and I was scared.. So I pulled it out to save her, but when I did blood sprayed everywhere.. I thought putting it back in would make it stop..’ He murmured. At this Nathaniel seemed bemused, ‘You would never have enough power to pull off something like that after only a handful of lessons. What about the fire? If my shadow hadn’t been with you, you would have burned to death as well.’  ‘I didn’t mean to start the fire.. I stepped back too far and the candle touched the curtains..’ He explained quietly though Nathaniel burst into hearty laughter, ‘It’s not funny!’ The child exclaimed, annoyed. ‘How disappointing you are!’ he chastised, ‘I thought you were clever. I thought you had the *will* to do as contracted and the cunning to cover it up. At the very least I assumed you had the deceit to lie to me about it when you failed.’ The way he spoke was almost as if daring the child to oppose him.  The boy grit his teeth, ‘Make another contract for me. I’ll do anything. I want to walk again!’ Eric insisted.  ’No.’ Nathaniel stated calmly, moving as if he had the intention to go, ‘Your will is too weak. You don’t mean your words, you don’t want it enough, that is clear.’  ‘I do have the will for it!’ The child insisted, his voice raising in slight panic as the man moved to leave and struggling with his leg brace to catch up.  ‘Oh? Prove it. Then I will grant you a new contract.’  ‘How?’ He asked quickly, jumping at the opportunity.  ‘By showing me your strength of will.’ Nathaniel mused, though offered a small kindness in waiting for the child to catch up to him, ‘Until then, I expect you will continue to train even as you are.’ ‘But with my leg..’  ‘I don’t care. Are you weak or are you not? You will train with your disadvantages until you earn another contract.’ The man said simply and I felt sick watching. He was manipulating this child flawlessly. And to what end? To have him murder someone? Would the child walking again be another ‘miracle’ like that I had witnessed with Fredrik? I had more questions than answers.  I remained hidden among the foliage until they left the area, then I waited longer just to be sure, before eventually making my way back to my room. Now, I was careful to retrace my steps. I paid attention to the turns I had taken so that I would be able to find my way back. However, I must have become confused for I soon realized that all the hallways were different.  There were far too many turns, landmarks, such as specific doors I remembered, were nowhere to be seen. Corners that previously only led one way, were now intersections that lead multiple directions. When I came across a staircase leading down I knew I was completely disorientated. It was an ornate staircase with small monstrous figures set on top of each banister post. I hadn’t passed a staircase of any kind beforehand, let alone one so recognisable.  Panic was beginning to set in. I convinced myself I would find the way out faster if I picked up the pace and before long I was running. The halls continued on seemingly without end, it was like a labyrinth. I don’t know how many hours I spent in that place. There were no other people. No servants, no other guests nor any other living thing at all.  Time seemed to stretch. I was caught in a hallucinative state and I found myself imagining that I was running on the ceiling of a spinning room, or that gravity was inverting as I climbed the walls. I thought I must have been poisoned, perhaps the shrub I had hid in was some kind of toxin?  Eventually I laid down in defeat. The floor was smooth and cold, it seemed to me to be oddly inviting. I can’t recall how long I was there for before I heard footsteps and voices echoing through the halls. I recognised them immediately, it was the Small brothers again:  ‘-you were sent to collect livestock not contracts.’ Achaicus was saying, there was a spiteful tone to his voice though he sounded far off and muffled as if I were underwater. ‘Now now brother, I simply saw an opportunity to collect both and took it.’ Nathaniel responded calmly.  ‘You could have told me before-‘ the Doctor began, spite giving way to annoyance. ‘Before telling father and allow you the opportunity to counteract me? No, I think not.’ his younger brother cut him off.  There was an agitated pause before Achaicus spoke again in a lower tone, ‘You should put that orphan with the rest in the meat farm. Mother and Father won’t approve of you keeping a pet. He won’t stay small forever, you know human children grow quickly. And he already has an attitude! He’s not one that will be easily trained. What do you intend to do when he gets bigger?’  ‘You concern yourself too much. Eric is very manageable, he learns fast and have you ever seen one with such blue eyes? I will tell mother and father once he is trained. Why don’t you handle your own contracts and stop worrying over me. I have everything perfectly under control.’  Nathaniel assured dismissively. ‘You haven’t thought this through, you can’t keep him as a pet once he’s grown.’ Achaicus insisted.  ‘Nonsense. You kept Molly even once she outgrew her pet phase.’  ‘That is not the same thing and you know it. I’ve had Molly since infancy, she is well trained, she never causes any problems. And I named her myself, you call the Orphan by his human name.’ Achaicus sounded disgusted.  ‘And *you* allow contracts to run about the halls without supervision.’ Nathaniel answered flatly now clearly annoyed. I felt my skin prickle, was he talking about me running around the halls unsupervised? ‘I know exactly where the journalist is. His appointment will start soon.’ He responded with a matter of factly tone and I broke into a cold sweat. They *were* talking about me.   Without a moment's hesitation I got up from the floor and ran. I didn’t care where I went, I just knew I had to get away and I soon found myself standing atop the stairs I had  seen earlier. I descended them and at the bottom of the stairs I came to a carved wooden door. It swung inward easily on silent hinges and I slipped into the room quickly. Beyond was a short narrow corridor and I could see light at the end, but it was the smell that confused me. It smelt of chemicals. I knew something was wrong immediately. This wasn’t an area I was supposed to be in. Still, my inquisitive nature encouraged me forward and I proceeded with caution to the end of the hall before stepping into the next room. It was extremely clean and strangely cold. The floors sloped slightly and had drainage down the center, it looked as though the area had been wetted down recently.  Partitions separated the room and there were rows of industrial stoves set into spacious countertops. Chef’s tools hung along the backboards above the benches and I realized that the room must be the castle’s kitchen. There were ovens along the back wall and pantries that I could only imagine must have been well stocked given the level of organization. I was so profoundly astonished by the place I was in that I had almost forgotten that I was being pursued. However, when I heard the door into the narrow hallway close I hurried to find an exit. There was a second door at the other end of the room and I moved for it with some haste. I felt as though I narrowly avoided discovery as I ducked into the room beyond. Though stepping into the new room was something I immediately regretted, for it was a meat factory. Every space was filled with flesh. It hung from hooks in the ceiling, saggy piles of skin were being rolled away on a conveyor belt and blood was being drained from hanging carcasses into containers.  For a moment I thought the remains were those of exotic animals, apes or monkeys of some kind, for they weren’t any recognisable domestic animal. Regrettably, the longer I stared the more I came to realize that the meat was in fact human. The bodies were small, child sized, hard to recognise without hands, feet or heads.  Automated machinery churned the corpses and unusual workers manned the processing stations. Some of them turned to look at me when I entered, they were inhuman, a goblin like creature if I must describe them. Those that turned to look at me, watched me with watery black eyes. Perhaps they were wondering how I had come to be in their work room rather than on the meat hooks.  I felt my knees give way and I sank to the ground-..” Mr. Hagihara stopped abruptly, and we both jumped as someone knocked  loudly on the door to his room.  Ken crouched down covering his ears and starting to shout in Japanese that I couldn’t understand as the knocking intensified, “Howard? Howard! Are you aright in there? The door won’t open.” I recognised the voice as Tracy, Ken’s former nurse.  “It’s okay, everything is fine.” I called back, “I’m just talking with Ken. It’s all okay.” I spoke trying to calm the both of them down.  There was a pause before Tracy spoke again, “Are you *sure*?” She clarified. No doubt she was thinking Kenzou had somehow trapped me in the room. Which was of course, exactly the case. But I didn’t feel threatened. Rather, I was intrigued. I wanted to hear more of Ken’s story.  “Yes I’m sure, it’s okay. I will call out if I need help.” I assured, grateful that she had at least stopped banging on the door.  “Alright..” She said skeptically and I heard her move away.  It took some time for me to calm Kenzou again and when he began his sentence a new I listened with morbid curiosity.  “I felt my knees give way and I sank to the ground, I can’t describe the feeling you get walking into such a place. The way your stomach twists and your heart rate skyrockets. I felt faint and I threw up on the ground, then a hand touched my shoulder.  ‘Mr. Hagihara, it seems you have stumbled into an area you weren’t invited into. Please come with me now.’ It was Dr. Achaius Small, he smiled down at me kindly as if nothing at all were wrong. As if we weren’t standing in a slaughterhouse. I noticed then that his teeth seemed a little too sharp, his eyes a little too luminous… He was Akuma.. a not human, something that eats humans. Despite his instruction I couldn’t move, my body was locked in a state of fear. He looked at me with sympathy as if he understood, ‘You can’t move can you? No matter.’ He assured, then something in the pitch of his voice changed, ‘Stand.’ He commanded and to my surprise my body followed the instruction.  ‘Come.’ He added with a wave of his hand gesturing for me to follow and I felt myself involuntarily begin to move. We walked back through the kitchen and up the stairs, I found myself watching the way his long hair trailed behind him as we walked. I think that’s all the shock of the situation allowed me to focus on.  He led me back through the hallways and opened a door in the wall that I couldn’t even see until it was gaping. Inside was a comfortable furnished office, ‘Sit.’ He instructed and I did. I felt whatever power he held over me release and my body became my own again as he took the seat opposite me across the desk.  ‘You were quite fortunate, you’ve arrived precisely in time for your appointment, I don’t much care for tardy clients.’ He lamented as he poured a glass of water and offered it to me, ‘Thirsty? We have a lot to discuss.’  I couldn’t find any words to speak, I watched him slide the glass toward me with wide eyes.  ‘No?’ He questioned when I made no move to accept the drink, ‘Very well.’ He shrugged nonchalantly as if it mattered not to him in the slightest, ‘What kind of contract would you like to make with me for your life?’ He asked curious.  ‘A contract… for my life?’ I asked weakly. My own voice sounded alien to me, barely a whisper was all I could manage.  ‘Oh well yes of course! You have, by my own design, seen far more than I’m sure you had ever wanted to. You cannot simply go freely now, but you do have several exciting options. What are your thoughts on the matter?’ His eyes gleamed as he leant forward.  I heard what he was saying, but I couldn’t quite comprehend, ‘Why..?’ I murmured.  A smile spread from ear to ear, he probably heard that question often I thought, ‘Why? Well there are certain forms of value in my world. Meat, magic, other items of interest.’ He said proudly, then clarified for my understanding, ‘That is to say, ‘food’, ‘power’ and ‘money’ are among the most valuable.’  ‘..Which am I?’ I asked now.  ‘Well, that depends on you Mr. Hagihara. Which would you prefer to be? Mature meat is of lesser worth, not as tender and juicy, but we do trade in it. Or of course, you may make a contract with me now. I will simply take something of value from you and in exchange you will get the remaining years of your life to live out before we collect you.’ He explained.  There was hardly a choice, ‘A contract.. I’ll make a contract..’ I agreed quickly. ‘Delightful!’ Achaicus clasped his hands together thinking, ‘What should it be? What is the most valuable thing you could offer me?’  For a moment I thought he was asking me and I didn’t even know what I could offer, ‘My soul..’ I whispered horrified. Achaicus looked surprised, then laughed wholeheartedly, ‘The soul of a sleazy journalist? I think not. You see, the most valuable souls are not ones that are offered so easily. The very fact that you offered it first means it has a low value.’ He explained, ‘No, I want something that you never realized you needed so dearly. I want, your sanity\~’ he purred.  He sounded eager, ‘My sanity…?’ I questioned, I wasn’t a fool, I wanted to understand the entirety of the deal first. ‘Yes, believe it or not the price for one's sanity is quite high, and I have a buyer in mind. So, the proposal is this. I will release you from the constraining bounds of sanity, and you will be allowed to leave this place with your life.’  I thought.. It was a good deal..” Kenzou trailed off looking regretful, “To seal the contract he marked me, look!” He said as if he had suddenly found the answer he was looking for and I will admit I was most curious to see if he did indeed have a brand as proof of his story.  Ken pushed back the hair from his face and pointed to a mark on his temple. It was a small silver blemish, no bigger than a thumb nail and I felt disappointment replace my enthusiasm. It was nothing more than a crescent shaped scar, or maybe a birthmark.  “Do you see? Do you see?!” He asked excited, looking at me expectantly.  “Yes, I can see.. Thank you for sharing all that you have with me.” I thanked him with a smile to mask my displeasure.  In the weeks to come I spoke to him on many other occasions, and he reiterated the same story over again. Each time he did so, he flinched when describing the ‘slaughter house’ and he repeated the same conversations that he had overheard verbatim as if he had rehearsed his story a thousand times. It was like rewinding a cassette tape.  For the sake of my own peace I researched the ‘Dunkel Institute of Psychiatry’. It was once owned by a wealthy German family, the Klein Family, and they were renowned for being pioneers in their field. However, towards the end of the war the castle was abandoned. There were no records for why exactly, but the ruins still stand. I believe Kenzou was a former patient of that institute prior to his transfer.  It’s unfortunate that of the many treatment methods we tried on Ken nothing ever truly seemed to help him. He was eventually lobotomised and though it didn’t fix him, he was certainly quieter.  He spent the remainder of his days sitting in his wheelchair staring at a wall before he was eventually reassigned to another facility. I don’t know what happened to him after that, but it was the dark man whom often visited him that wheeled him away.  [NEXT](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y21ltl/i_work_for_a_county_sheriffs_office_in_maine_im/) [Chapter List](https://www.reddit.com/user/xXKikitoXx/comments/xhj9xo/eric_linnaeus_stories_discussion_thread/) [.xXx.](https://www.reddit.com/user/xXKikitoXx/comments/vl2ws4/hi_and_welcome_to_my_page/)

The Shadow Man

y76ae5

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y76ae5/the_shadow_man/

So I live in a pretty old house, it used to be a barn, my room is the only one that still has some of the original walls. Because I have a big family (six children, three adults and two dogs) we all share a room with someone. My room is the only bedroom on the first floor, everyone else's bedrooms are on the second floor. I share a room with my little sister and my two dogs. So one night my little sister and I are just sitting on my bed watching some YouTube videos, we were up pretty late it was around two in the morning. As we watched the videos she heard three clear but faint knocks on the wall behind us. The odd thing is that behind that wall is the stairwell that leads upstairs, we brushed it off as maybe someone coming down to get water. So a few minutes later we forgot about the knocking and we're just laughing and talking about the video. But then we both heard it *knock* *knock* *knock* but this time it was louder than before. And the dogs didn't react to it at all, which is unusual because at night they are very cautious about any noise and bark at anything unfamiliar. But they seemed unbothered by the noise, they continued to sleep peacefully. I didn't want to just ignore the noise, especially because my little sister seemed frightened. So being the older sister, I decided to leave my room and search the house to see what could be making the noise, but after searching for a while I found nothing and everyone else was asleep upstairs. So I returned to my room and jokingly told my little sister that it was a mouse, it made her feel a little more at ease but we were still scared. About an hour later my little sister decided to go to sleep on her bed, and she soon fell asleep. Now it was silent in the house apart from the light snoring of my sister and the dogs, so I decided to try sleeping too. But for some reason I felt that if I went to sleep something bad would happen, I wasn't usually this paranoid about things like this so I decided to sleep anyway. Shortly after falling asleep I started to have a dream, in the dream I was laying in my bed when someone knocked on my window, I ignored it but then my window was shattered and a tall black shadow crept into my room. My dogs started barking and growling at the figure but it continued to drag it's heavy body into my room, my small dog charged at the figure causing it to fall to the floor, then my big dog charged at the figure. I couldn't really see what was happening because I wasn't able to move from my bed, but it was eerily quiet. After a short moment my dogs ran whimpering and sprinted under my bed, I began panicking as I saw the creature crawling behind my sisters bed. It slowly reached for her hand and I yelled out "leave her!!" , I instantly regretted my decision when the figure looked up and locked eyes with me. I was too scared to breath, suddenly the shadow appeared in front of my bed and let out a horrible scream, the sound was so terrifying that it felt like my heart stopped for a second. I was so frightened that I woke up crying and struggling to breathe, I looked around my room searching for my dogs but I couldn't find them. I knew they were under my bed, but why? It was just a silly dream right? Suddenly the home security alarm went off, I didn't want to go disarm it. I was too scared but I had to, so I opened my door and quickly walked to the security system and disarmed it. I was too afraid to look around, the shadow from my dream burned in my mind. I looked up and that's when I saw him, standing in my room smiling at me. He slammed my room door shut and I couldn't get in, I wanted to save my sister but ger screams told me that I was too late. All the noise had alerted my mom and she slowly walked downstairs asking what happened, I couldn't explain so I just opened my room door, and she saw my little sister covered in cuts and blood. My sister was rushed to the hospital but didn't survive and every night I see him standing in my room waiting. Waiting for the day when it's my turn to hear the knocking, my turn to be trapped with it, my turn to fight the shadow man.

A Survivor's Accounts of the Depraved Funhouse: The Playmate (Part One)

y6sy0t

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y6sy0t/a_survivors_accounts_of_the_depraved_funhouse_the/

[[2]](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y7p2ep/a_survivors_accounts_of_the_depraved_funhouse_the/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf) | [[3]](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y8khor/a_survivors_accounts_of_the_depraved_funhouse_the/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf) If there's anything I've learned, anything at all, in the [past year since I began telling my story](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/n7g6ra/a_survivors_accounts_of_the_depraved_funhouse_the/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3), it's this; memory is a cruel thing. Memory is what robbed me of sleep -- what *still* robs me of sleep. I still see everything. Memory continues to fuel my never ending night terrors. The memories of ma and dad, of Liza, Derek... (*The balloon...)* The thing is, it all leads back to those damn clowns; to HappyWorld. They say memory allows us to cherish life. To remember the good times and learn from the bad. Well, *I* say that's a fuckin' load. It was memory that costed me everything. Now, it's that memory that's brought me here today to finish what I started last year. I'm sorry, you're probably confused. I needed to vent for a moment. Understand that I said what I did, however, because it's true. I mentioned that that summer wasn't the last time I'd see HappyWorld, and that it would royally fuck my life in even worse ways than I could've imagined. The catch, it didn't have to be that way. I *could've* forgotten it a long time ago. Could've moved on, told myself it never happened; that HappyWorld never existed. Memory, I guess, is one of those things you hear about "having a mind of it's own". It'll happen to you whether you want it or not. Violating, I guess you could call it. What's even more ironic, though, I can actually remember the time in my life where I *was* free. Where I *DIDN'T* remember HappyWorld. *A time where I could've moved on...* That moment, if I had to go back, started just six months after that day at HappyWorld. By that point in time, everybody had long given up their search for Derek. In fact, funny enough (in a sick sort of way, obviously), I can actually tell you the slow progression of how the people of the small town in Tennessee just began to give up and fade Derek into obscurity. Three months, they searched for him via large search parties. Both authorities and locals alike pitched in, roving the streets almost constantly for a kid that only I knew wasn't coming back. The fourth month, the search parties started dying down and they instead resorted to plastering his face on the backs of the milk cartons. It was at the end of the fourth month, bleeding into that fifth, everyone finally seemed to accept that Derek wasn't coming back. That was the point where we held a memorial for him. I remember it being held in the state park. I can remember how cold it was that day. The sun shined on, but all anybody there could feel was a bitter cold breeze. Not that many people actually came, though. It was me, my folks, what was *left* of the Cromwells, as well as Ray and Corey. *You'll be here when he's gone, but not when he would've needed you?* I remember thinking bitterly. A picture of a younger Derek stood in place inside a large floral wreath frame in the center of the park in front of a large marble globe that stood in front of three circular concrete steps. Derek's father was the first to say something in his memory, briefly reminiscing about the times they spent bonding over classic monster movies. Liza went next. "I'll miss you, you big dork... wherever you are." I still remember looking into her beautiful blue eyes when she said that and immediately feeling like my heart had just been smashed with a hammer. I'd have broken down into tears, had everything that happened in HappyWorld not scarred me to the point where I couldn't even cry anymore. When it was my turn, though, I walked up to his picture and placed a pack of blueberry PopTarts in front of it, painfully picturing that day outside the Blockbuster. *"Great minds think alike, I suppose..."* I could hear myself say this again as I placed the PopTarts down and closed my eyes. *(I couldn't even look his photo in the eyes...)* "See you around, dude..." My voice shook as I bid my last goodbye to my friend. My friend who wouldn't ever properly be laid to rest. *(I still see his eyes, begging for me to run. I should've ran...)* As I walked away from the shrine, I looked over to see Liza burying her face in her parent's arms. It pained me to watch her. I remember because I knew that she still held hope that Derek was still alive. That he'd come home. For at least five months by that time, she'd held onto that hope -- clung to it, even -- and because of that, I couldn't help but to feel my heart break. *You're gonna have to tell her...* Of course, how was I supposed to even do that? What the hell was I supposed to say? Of course, certain of what to say or not, I knew damn well I wasn't going to be able to live with myself if I just sat quiet and continued to try hiding the truth from her. In the end, I'd decided to walk over to the Cromwell's house. If nothing else, I figured I might could be a shoulder to cry on. *(As if I could even get THAT right...)* The walk through the neighborhood, trying to search blindly for her house was just as cold and quiet as the rest of the day had been at the park. I still wondered *what* exactly I was supposed to say to her. I was scared and wished I could've given myself a little more time, or at least a better understanding of what to say or do when I came across her sitting on the front porch of her house. She was wearing a bright purple sweater with sleeves that were way too long and blue jeans and appeared to be drawing in a sketchbook. "H-Hey Liza." She shot a startled glance at me, eyes wide *(Just like how Derek's were...)*. "Oh, uh... S-Sorry, heh, heh... Didn't mean to scare you. I, uh, just wanted to see how you were doing." Without a word, she just very weakly shrugged her shoulders and went back to her sketchbook. I was about to just leave her alone and head back home, figuring maybe that just wasn't the time, when I noticed the small stack of posters and comic books laying next to her. Getting a better look, I saw they were classic Universal monster movie posters and those vintage horror comic books from the 50s and 60s in a stack next to her. "These posters are awesome, where'd you get 'em?" "Oh..." she said, barely glancing at them before going back to her sketching. "Derek collected them. He *loved* this shit." She went quiet again and I decided to sift through the stack myself. I remember how amazed I was at the different posters and comics he had. Everything from the classic *"Frankenstein meets the Wolfman"* to *"The Fly"* and even *"The Creature from the Black Lagoon"*. "That one was always his favorite. That, and the wolf guy." She chuckled softly and I continued to look throgh the comic collection until one made the blood drain from my face and freeze over. The cover depicted a giant clown monster with six long tentacles grabbing a couple of frightened kids and hoisting them in the air, ready to drop them into it's giant, cavernous maw with jagged piranha teeth. "When it's finished, I wanna hang it up in his room. Sort of a cool "Welcome home" present, you know?" I heard her say this, but I wasn't paying any attention. My thoughts were hopelessly trapped on the comic -- the horrific reminder of the Hell I'd lost my friend to. Hesitantly, I began thumbing through the pages; dropping the book in horror at a part where a wizard is shown summoning the clown monstrosity. *"Unto thee in the burning lake beneath..."* I could hear -- and in a way *feel* \-- the Amazing Beliar's voice followed swiftly by Derek's screams. "You okay, Linus?" I could hear Liza ask. Her voice sounded distant, like it was calling from the top of a mountain. My head snapped over to see Liza staring at me with a worried expression. "What's up?" I could feel the sting of tears beginning to well up in my eyes as I just looked at her, my face completely pale. "What's wrong?" Liza urged. *You know you have to tell her.* But how? How was I supposed to explain to her that I watched Derek get murdered -- no, worse yet, *sacrificed* \-- by a group of satanic clowns? "L-Liza..." I croaked out. I desperately tried to force myself to just spit it out already. "What?" she pressed. My tongue froze up and a weird sort of croaking sound came out of my mouth. "Damn it, what's going on?! This isn't funny, Linus! This is exactly what you did when Derek went missing!" *Tell her the truth!* That's when, for the first time in the five months since that day in HappyWorld, I actually broke into full-blown tears again. "Fine then, don't tell me!" she huffed as she began collecting the materials together and getting up to go inside. "You know what, don't even bother trying to ever--" "The blood..." I spat out finally, cutting her off. "It was his." "What? What're you talking about?" I closed my eyes and drew a deep breath. "Derek isn't coming home. The blood that was all over me... was his!" Immediately, the horrid memories of HappyWorld came crashing back to me in a merciless barrage. The white corridor, the epileptic vacuum room, the sacrificial altar, the pile of children's corpses, Derek's elongated torture, *everything!* Tears were now running freely and damn near uncontrollable by this point as Derek's murder mentally rewound itself, taunting me on an endless loop. "I... I... I tried to save him, Liza. But... They-they killed him!" "This isn't cool! That's sick for you to joke about. I thought you were his friend." I could hear the fear seeping through her denial. The fear that she knew what I was telling her was the truth. The truth that she wasn't ready to accept. "They made me watch, Liza!" I blubbered. "They made me watch while they tortured him! I tried... I tried, but I couldn't save him!" I felt the sharp sting of a slap across my right cheek. "All this time..." she said, venom practically dripping from her lips now. "All this time, you *knew?!* How could you?!" I had no words for her. She was right. I'd kept the truth from her for almost half a year and just sat and let her believe in the lie that Derek might come back. *"I HATE YOU!"* she screamed before running inside and slamming the door behind her and leaving me to stand alone on her porch. I stood there for about five minutes, staring at the comic I'd dropped. *I'm so sorry, Liza...* I thought before burying myself in my palms. How could I have done this? How could I have put her, this sweet, adorable little girl, under so much pain and misery? How could I have kept the truth from her, as well as basically everybody else, for so long? I felt like *I* was the one that took everything away from her and her family. *(The worst part, though, I've realized only nowadays, that neither of us had truly lost everything of value to us. Just enough to make us think it was as bad as it could ever get.)* *Ching, ching* The sounds caused me to look up from my hands. Riding by the house on a bicycle was what looked to be this tall, lanky woman with cherry red hair tied in pigtails hanging down the sides of her head and wearing overalls. For a moment, I seriously almost thought I was looking at the Wendy's mascot on a bicycle. She chimed the bell again and turned to face me, smiling. *What the...* Then my blood ran cold when I saw her pasty white face with the read teardrop designs around her eyes that connected to the corners of her crayon red lips. *No! No, no, no, no... No, th-this can't...* I watched as the woman on the bike giggled while waving at me and speeding off. That was when I quickly started walking away from the Cromwell house, looking anxiously over my shoulders every 2 seconds to see if I was being followed. Sure enough, I had managed to make it halfway back the way I came going to my house when I heard the bicycle bell ring again, this time coming *towards me* from down the street to the left of me. That was when all-out fight-or-flight kicked in and I started booking it down the street on the right. I just kept running further and further into the neighborhood. The whole time, I could hear the repeated *ching* of the bicycle right behind me, accompanied by the high pitched girly giggling. Suddenly, my ankles rolled mid-run, causing me to faceplant on the asphault. Immediately, I felt a searing pain coming from my nose and could feel something warm and wet running down my face. *Fuck, I think it's broken!* I began to panic as I instantly curled into a ball, cradling my nose in agony. I peered from my hands to see if the bicycle clown was still coming after me. Oddly -- yet fortunately -- there was no sign of her, not even the chiming of the bell. I began to try and pick myself up off the ground when I felt shooting pains coming from my kneecaps. Rolling up my pantlegs, I saw that my knees had been scraped raw, to the point where even the cool breeze touching them was causing extreme sharp pains to shoot throughout my body. Gritting my teeth and with sharp breaths, I worked my way up to my feet and and began slowly trying to limp towards where I thought I'd entered the neighborhood from. I silently thanked God or whatever forces that were watching over me that the bicycle clown was gone because I'd have had no chance in Hell of outrunning her at that moment. The bad news was, now I was lost and had no slue as to how or where I entered from. On top of that, pain was now exploding throughout my body, barely even allowing me to keep my eyes open without immediately wincing in pain. I persevered for about another 10 minutes or so before the pain became too much and I had to stop and sit down again. Looking around, I could see the sun going down fast. I tried to get back up but the stabbing pain I immediately felt all over quickly put an end to that. I just sat there holding my busted nose, which throbbed every second, and started to wonder how I was gonna make it home. "You okay there, dude?" I snapped my head around to see one of the neighborhood kids on their front porch. I tried one last time to get myself back to my feet, unsuccessfully. "What happened?" I heard the kid call out to me. I saw him start heading in my direction. As he got closer, I saw that it was Ray. "Hey, I remember you." he said, stopping about half a foot away from me. "You were the kid from the park, right? The one with the PopTarts?" He walked up and reached his hand down to me. I just groaned in response as I took his hand and painfully pulled myself up again. "Easy there, bud. You live near here?" "Y-Yeah... why?" I asked, breathing sharply from the aches in my knees. "Who were you running from?" I looked at him nervously. I wasn't sure whether I could actually tell him or not about the clown. *Would he even believe me?* Before I could come up with some lame-ass bluff, I heard the chiming of a bicycle bell in the distance. *"Fuck!"* I whispered louder than I'd meant to, allowing Ray to overhear. "What dude? What is it?" But I was already limping away as fast I could. I got *maybe* five feet from where I'd been before the, now excruciating pain in my knees ended up getting the better of me yet again. "Whoa, dude, wait up!" He ran over to me and threw my arm over his shoulder. "Let me go, she's after me!" I cried, panic overridong any logical reasoning. "Who?!" "Her!" I pointed behind me where the oncoming chimes of the bicycle bell grew ever closer. "You mean my brother?" he asked, looking and sounding completely bewildered. "Your brother?" I snapped my head around to look back behind me. Sure enough -- no clown. Instead, it was this tall, punker dude with long, dyed blood red hair wearing a black tank-top and skin tight black pants with a chain that hung down from his right pocket. I looked at Ray absolutely dumbfounded. "B-But sh-she was after me..." "Come on, man, let's get you inside. Need to get you bandaged up before you bleed out in my front yard." As we continued towards his house, him basically carrying my ass every step of the way, I continued looking over my shoulder, still convinced the clown was somewhere nearby. "You got a name?" I snapped my head back in his direction. "Huh? Oh, uh, Linus Davies. And you are?" I asked, despite still remembering him from that day at Blockbuster. "Raymond. But you can just call me "Ray". That's what all my friends do." *Like the one you abandoned...* Of course, I didn't actually voice this to him. No, instead, I just stayed quiet until we got up to the front door when I asked him where his folks were. "They're out. Won't be back for another couple of days. They work for the hospital across town as nurses. It's just you, me, and Reggie over there, and he's barely ever around anyway." When we got inside, he guided me over to the living room couch. "Wait here, I'll get some ointments and bandages." I sat down on the couch, clutching my busted nose, which was throbbing horribly by this point. I looked out the window. The sun was almost gone completely, leaving just barely any light in the sky at all. *God, Ma's gonna kill me.* I was basically simulating that conversation in my head already. *"Oh my God where were you?!"* and *"You had me worried SICK!"* And I'd have almost been willing to bet money she'd have used Derek's disappearance to fuel her anxiety. The worst part was, what could I have told her. Somehow, I felt the whole *"Yeah, Ma, see, I was being chased by a psycho clown on a bicycle"* schtick wouldn't have gone over real well. *(Why did I have to be a coward? She deserved the truth... She always did.)* "Alright, hold still." Ray's voice snapped me back to the present as he brought over some gauze and peroxide wipes. "Fair warning, this may sting a bit." He placed the wipe to my raw, bloody kneecap and began dabbing and wiping around it. The pain caused me to inhale sharply. "Sorry." he said as sympathetically as he could. "It's fine." I replied through gritted teeth. "So uh... Linus, you never did answer my question from earlier." I looked at him, confusion mixing with the discomfort. "Huh? What do you mean?" I asked. "About the park. You were there, weren't you? With the PopTarts?" "Yeah, why?" He shrugged and kept cleaning the wounds. "It's just that I've never seen you around and I was wondering how you'd have known Derek." I told him then about the day at the Blockbuster five months before, about me and him bonding over HappyWorld and "The Amazing Beliar". "Ahh... So he got you hyped about that, too, huh? He was *always* on about that, 'The Amazing Beliar'." I just stayed quiet as he continued. "I never got it. I mean, it was cool the first few times we went, but after a while, it just kind of got old, you know? I honestly don't even think "The Amazing Beliar was ever real. But Derek still did, so I just figured I'd go along with it. Here, pinch your nose and hold your head down." He bandaged my nose and handed me a tissue to hold up my nostril to stop the bleeding. "I'd like to think he's still out there, still just searching for him, you know?" "He's not..." The words jumped from my mouth quicker than I could realize I'd said anything. "What do you mean?" I'd said too much, and now I was going to have to bite the bullet for the second time that day. "I mean that he's not "Still out there". He's... He's not coming back..." Before any more could be said, however, the sound of glass being shattered caused the both of us to jolt in panic. "The fuck?!" Ray shouted as he went over to where the sound came from. I followed him and saw that someone had thrown a brick through the window. "Hey!" Ray shouted out the window, "I'm calling the cops!" Looking out the window, I very nearly went into shock when I saw the clown on the bicycle in the middle of the street, giggling and twiddling her fingers at us before speeding off. "I-It's... It's *her!*" I stammered, heart hammering away at my chest. "What?" "The person I was telling you was after me. It's her!" Seeing the panic building on my face, Ray told me to stay put while he got the police on the phone. While Ray was on the phone, I looked down at the brick on the floor amidst the sea of shattered glass. Hesitantly, I picked up the projectile to find an envelope with the hauntingly familiar red smile on the front tied to it. My hands shook violently as I untied the envelope and opened it. I nearly had a heart attack when I saw what was inside. It was a photo of me and Liza on her front porch. The demented red clown face had been drawn over her face in red marker. On the back of the photo was a message. ***"I spy with my little eyes, a piggy and his little playmate. Now WE'RE gonna have some playtime with her!"*** My mind immediately, and forcefully, took me back to that dark room. I even felt my right cheek, imagining the Amazing Beliar's smile as he stroked my face with his sledgehammer. *"Do you care for this boy's life?"* *"Would you like that, piggy? Would you like a balloon?"* That was what finally broke me and I ran to the closest trash can and puked until I couldn't anymore. "Whoa, you okay there, dude?" Ray asked, appearing suddenly beside me, causing me to jump and snap my head in his direction from the trash can. I just stood there, giving him that stare that this shit was urgent. "They're... They're... They're after Liza!" "What're you talking about? *Who's* after Liza?" I just held up the photo. His eyes widened. "What the fuck, dude?" He looked at me, confused. "Who are these people? What do they want with you and Liza?" "I... I don't know." I lied. I was too freaked out in that moment to care enough about a guilty conscience. More than this, I was far more worried about the very real danger Liza might've been in. "We have to get to her before they do!" I cried, attempting to make a mad dash for the door. Ray put his hand on my shoulder, stopping me dead. "Whoa there, dude, it's getting dark out there. You won't be able to see where you're going." Unfortunately, he *did* kind of have a bit of a point. Never even mind the fact that I *still* had no way of knowing how to even get out of the neighborhood. Of course, next to none of that was registering in my mind in that moment. "Well I can't just sit here. What if they've already got her?" *What good would it even do if you DID get to her first? It'd have been just like Derek and you know it...* "Calm down, okay?" he said. "The cops are on their way. Just show them the picture and tell them about the stalker on the bicycle." For a good couple of minutes, I just stared at Ray, quivering and spiraling as I tried to compose my thoughts that were racing through my mind. *I can't just sit here and do nothing. I HAVE to help her!* This was countered by the devil on my shoulder. *You mean like how you "helped" Derek?*

I got a text message from Anne

y6fe52

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y6fe52/i_got_a_text_message_from_anne/

When I was a kid, I had this friend, Anne. If I'm being honest, she was the weirdest girl I've ever met, but I never had any problem being friends with the quirky kids. I was pretty odd too, so I guess it just worked. ​ I met Anne when I was around 9 years old. My mom is a teacher, and she was her student. We were both the same age and ended up meeting at some of my mom's school events, which I can't quite recall. ​ To describe Anne, I can tell you she was unbelievably beautiful. She had long, blond hair that fell over her shoulders and down her back in large curls. Her huge eyes were the most transparent blue I've ever seen; it was almost as if you could see through them or as if they were orbs filled with water. She had pale, smooth skin that looked like porcelain and tiny freckles on her nose and cheeks. She seemed so unreal that my parents each had a specific description for her: my mom said she looked like an angel; my dad said she looked like the little girls from horror movies. Somehow, they were both right. ​ Now, you are probably wondering why a girl like this can be considered weird, right? Well, there were two things. First, Anne was one of those people that look different when you cover their eyes or their mouth. If you only cover her eyes and look at her mouth, she looks angelic. If you cover her mouth instead... well, it's unsettling. Her eyes always gave me the creeps. ​ The second thing about Anne was that she was a pathological liar, making up terrible rumours about people to stir things up. ​ My cousin Sophie used to join Anne and me when we were playing since we were all around the same age. Sophie had always been a very spiritual and superstitious kid, so sometimes we'd play some weird games, like those things with cards to foresee the future and whatnot. Anne was eerily correct in her predictions, which I always attributed to luck. ​ One day, my mom came home and looked distressed. I asked her what was wrong. ​ \-I'm worried about Anne... ​ \-Why? ​ \-Well... today, she came to class sobbing, saying her grandmother had fallen and fractured her skull and that she died instantly. I called her mom to give my condolences, and that's when I found out it was all a lie. Did you notice her lying about stuff like this before? ​ I told my mom about some lies she had told us. A kid who broke a leg at recess, a friend of the family falling from the roof, her pet hamster getting its leg caught on the playing wheel and being badly hurt... ​ \-Well, but the pet hamster did get hurt, though - my mom said. ​ \-Oh really? Sorry, I thought it was one of her lies too. ​ \-No, it did happen. It was yesterday. I didn't know you two talked today already. Did you meet at grandma's? ​ My stomach dropped. I was so confused. I started questioning my sanity as I tried to piece together the possibilities. My mom looked puzzled at me, waiting for my reply. ​ \-N-no... ​ \-Oh? When did she tell you then? ​ \-Well... three weeks ago... ​ \--- ​ I started paying attention to Anne's weird lies. Surely enough, her grandma died three weeks later; a kid fell and had an exposed fracture; a few days passed, and a family friend fell from a roof... ​ I can't tell you how terrified my (then) 10-year-old ass was. I told my mom everything. As always, she tried to calm me down, said no such things existed and that I could rest assured everything was ok. She was just a kid who liked telling lies to get attention. That week, in what I'm *sure* was a *coincidence*, the priest came over to have dinner with us and bless the house. Sure, mom. ​ After this, I stopped hanging out with Anne and lost track of her for years. I was too terrified of her, so I actively avoided her until she got the message and, from then on, life happened. I haven't even thought of her for years. Until yesterday... ​ Yesterday, I received a text message. ​ *Hey there, it's Anne! Long time no see. I'm not sure if you will be able to reply to this message. I was so sad when I learned about your accident and how you are paraplegic now...*

My Daddy died working, but the Worms wouldn't let him stop.

y6lqkg

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y6lqkg/my_daddy_died_working_but_the_worms_wouldnt_let/

The mine used to be my town's pride and joy. Certainly was my Daddy’s. Every morning he’d walk out the front door with this ridiculous smile plastered on his face. You’d think he was a war hero with the way he held himself. It was like that with all the miners. You could pick them out of a crowd just by the twinkle of pride in their eyes and the chins they kept pointed at the sky. They knew what they meant to this town and had no qualms flaunting it.  I remember growing up and thinking I wanted to be just like them. Didn’t matter if I was a girl. I could swing an ax better than any boy my age and everybody knew it. That was my Daddy’s doing. He’d talk about me all the time, the other grown ups said. *Did you see little Stacy?* He’d say. *I’m telling yah. One of these days, she’s gonna dig us a hole right to China.* I liked hearing him say things like that. Other kids had to worry about what they wanted to be when they grew up. But I was gonna be a miner. The best miner this town had ever seen. I can tell you the exact day that all ended. July 10nth, 1993. It was a Thursday. Lasagna night. My Momma had everything all cooked and ready by the time my Daddy came home. I remember hoping from the dinner table the second I heard the front door open. *Daddy, Daddy,* I screamed as I wrapped my arms around him, but my excitement was meant with a sobering silence. I looked up at my Daddy and I’ll never forget what I saw. He wasn’t smiling no more and that don’t mean he was frowning either. He just stared ahead with these heavy eyes filled by stomach with stones. He didn’t look human, not a lick. More like a corpse someone had forgotten to bury.  The vein was drying up, he told us. No one knew how much longer it’d last, but its days were numbered. I didn’t know that was possible until that night. The mine had always been there since before even my Daddy was a babe. It drying up seemed impossible. That’s how I took the news, anyways. I told myself it was all just silly grown up stuff. Whatever would let me ignore it. But then miners stopped heading out for their morning shifts. Then the bills started piling up. Then my Daddy stopped smiling all together.  I remember waking up one night to the sound of my Momma and Daddy hollering up a storm. I’d never heard such a thing before, I thought the house was being robbed. Being the child I was, I crept out from my room real quiet like, hoping to catch them burglars to my surprise. Wasn’t until I recognized my parents' voices that I knew something much worse was happening. “I’m telling you, Shelia. Me and the boys have worked those mines since we were Stacy’s age. Know it like the backs of our hands. We know there’s something else down there.” “For God’s sake, Carl. Listen to yourself. You’re talking about gold or silver while I’m over here trying to find some real solutions.” “We are not going to your sisters, alright?” “And what. You want us to stay here? The only thing worth a damn in this town was that mine and now that’s dead.” “The mine ain’t dead!!” I gasped. I’d never heard my Daddy raise his voice like that, not to Momma. They must’ve heard me too because shortly there after, my Daddy called out “Stacy, that you?” Panicking, I replied “No?” My Daddy chuckled. “Come on out, sweetheart. Ain’t nothing to be afraid of.” I crept from my hiding spot and rushed over to my Daddy. He picked me up and set me down on his lap like he always had. My Momma didn’t say a word. “Did we wake you?” I nodded. “I thought you was burglars. I was gonna break your legs.” “Were you now? I guess we won’t be needing that guard dog then.” He laughed and looked to my Momma only for the joy to die on his face.  Whatever was eating my Daddy crept into me when I saw that and I asked “Is the mine gonna be alright, Daddy?” He didn’t say nothing for a good while and when he spoke, his words were tainted by that hesitation “Of course it is. That old girl’s served us well since long before even your grand-daddy was born. It ain’t quitting on us yet.” “Don’t lie to her, Carl.” My Momma voice snapped like the head of snake. “I aint, Shelia. Stacy, the mine is gonna help us. It’s just gonna do it in a different way now.” “Will I still get to break rocks with you?” “If all goes well, you might not have to.” “But I wanna break rocks!” “I know you do. But wouldn’t you like a bigger bedroom instead? Maybe a cute little doggie instead. Or how about that little pick up truck you’ve been eye at the toy store?” “You said we couldn’t afford those.” “Well, that might not be the case for much longer, darling. You see, there’s silver down in those mines.” “Oh jesus christ.” My Momma muttered. “It’s true, Sheila.” My Momma sighed and then dolled up her voice before saying “Stacy, why don’t you go back to bed for me now.” “But I’m not tired.” “Tired ain’t got nothing to do with it. You got school tomorrow and me and Daddy need to have a talk.” “Can’t I stay.” “Nope. It’s for grown-ups only.” I moaned like any little kid who didn’t get her way. “Now enough of that, missy. Of you go or else you’ll be walking to school tomorrow.” I looked up at my Daddy who smiled back at me, but it was his *I love you sweetheart, but listen to your mother* face. I moaned again and marched back to bed. Not that I got a lick of sleep that night. Not with my parents hollering up a storm. I woke up the next morning and my Daddy was gone. Momma was sitting by the window still, staring out with a look I’d never see on her before. “You alright, Momma?” I asked. “I’m fine darling.” “Where’s Daddy?” She paused and it felt as though it lasted forever. “He’ll be home for dinner, Stacy. Now go get yourself ready for school.” I love my Daddy, more than most people move themselves, but there’s one thing I’ll never forgive him for. He made my Momma a liar. I still remember looking through my classroom window and seeing the smoke billowing up from the mountain. None of us kids knew what it meant, but the sirens that came screaming up the mountain were happy to fill us in. I came home that day to my Momma bawling her eyes out. I asked her what was wrong, but she just kept on crying and crying and crying. Didn’t say a word about the mine or my Daddy. Still hasn’t. I learned from school that a bunch of the miners, my Daddy included, had stolen a bunch of company equipment and took it deep, deep, deep into the mountain. It was said they were chasing silver or gold, anything that’d keep the mine alive, really. What happened next is still unknown. Us kids thought it was a stray piece of dynamite that brought the cave down on top of them. The grown-ups said it was a case of them getting careless and hitting a piece of stone they shouldn’t have. I had some real choice words for those folks. My Daddy was the best damn soul who ever worked these mines. He wouldn’t have buried himself unless he wanted to.  It was hard those first couple of months. The house felt empty. It didn’t matter if you were in the kitchen on the shitter. You knew there was something missing even if at times you didn’t know what and that never went away. Only thing that happened was it got a little easier to live with.  My Momma really took it all in strides. First thing she did after the funeral was get a job bustling tables down at the old dinner. Between that and the insurance, we were able to live comfortably enough. But that didn’t mean we were staying. I overheard my Momma on the phone some nights, talking to my Aunt. It was never over details like driving out or selling the house. I think my Momma had already planned out a lot of this. The only thing in question was the date: December 10nth. Just in time for Christmas. “I don’t wanna go!” I said to her, “You can’t make me!” “Like hell I can’t, missy. We’re going and that’s final. Understand.” “But what about my friends? And Daddy. How are we gonna visit him?” “I told you, you’re Daddy’s not in that mine. He’s in heaven now and heaven is everywhere.” “No he’s not. His body’s down there. We can’t leave it alone. Daddy wouldn’t want-” “DON’T-” My Momma pulled back the second she heard herself, but it was too late. I was already trembling in my night skirt. ‘Don’t you talk about him like that. Your Daddy’s gone. And this is what we need to do so we don’t end up like him. So the least you can do is act like a big girl and not throw a tantrum at every single little thing I do. Understand”  She wasn’t screaming no more, but her words were no less bitter. I went back to my room trembling that night and just before I closed the door, I could hear my Momma start to cry. That night was another sleepless one. There’d be a lot of those since the cave-in, but this one was special. Something my Momma said didn’t sit right with me. Grown-ups always talk about heaven when people ask where the dead people go. But I knew where my Daddy was. He was down in those mines and come sooner or later, I was gonna leave that all behind. But I was damned I would without saying goodbye. So I laced up my shoes, got my winter coat, and snuck out through my window sill without so much as a peep. That night was a bitter one. Autumn’s chill winds chewed your nose raw and conducted an army of icy needles to dance across your skin. Even with all my layers, I was still shivering like a beat dog as I made my way to the mine. Almost made me turn back a few times. Almost. I ran along the dirt road connecting the town to the mountain as fast as my little legs would carry me. It was a miserable journey, but not enough to stop a girl on a mission. The old mine was almost unrecognizable. With no way back in, the company had come and collected all its machinery and mobile offices, leaving the place the world's most expensive parking lot. Only trace of what had been was embedded in the side of the mountain. Most of the debri had been cleared from when rescuers had tried to dig their way through. They’d done a decent job too. The entrance to the mine was clear enough to get my hopes up and I raced inside like the devil was biting at my heels. I thought it’d have a clear path down to where my Daddy lay until I smacked face first into the mother of all boulders. It didn’t do much to knock me down. It’d been in far worse scraps. But it did quite literally knock some sense back into me. Moonlight leaked in through the mouth of the cave and illuminated boulders bigger than I blocking my path. I knew deep down that was what I’d find, and yet, looking over the wall, I started to cry.  “I’m sorry, Daddy.” My words were mangled by all the snot and slime running down my face. “I was gonna visit. I promise I was. I’m sorry for leaving you alone. I promise I’ll be good. Please.” I stumbled towards the wall and hugged the big stone I’d run into. “I’ll be good. Just come back. God, if you just bring him back, I’ll be a good girl forever and ever. I’ll go to church, I’ll do my homework, I’ll be really nice to Momma. Bring him back and I’ll do it. I swear to you. I swear.” The cave echoed my words back to me. It was the only reply I got. Or at least, so I thought. As I hugged that mighty stone, ear pressed flat against it, I heard something.  *Clank* *Clank* *Clank* The sounds of metal striking stone. *Clank* *Clank* *Clank* And it was coming from the otherside of the wall. “DADDY!?” I cried out, jumping back from the rocks. I’m not even sure why I said that, but once the word was out there, I couldn’t ignore it. “Daddy, I’m here!” I jumped at the rock wall, trying to find some way through. I started moving aside some of the smaller rocks I could get my hands on. It was stupid so it fit me perfectly at that moment. I jostled loose dozens of stones, but they were mere peebles compared to bigger ones sealing up the passage. My frantic efforts, however, were not in vain. I wrenched loose another stone and suddenly, this massive plume of dust blasted me in the face as the rock suddenly shifted. I stumbled back coughing, lungs filling with dust. When I finished digging the sand out of my eyes, I saw there was now a tiny passage cutting through the debri. It was a pathetic little hole, barely big enough for a dog to fit through, but the perfect size for, say, a small child. Being the fool I was, I doze for that thing like a rabbit from a fox. The tunnel was quite the snug fit, forcing me to wiggle through the damn thing with my arms pinned at my sides. Jagged rocks cut my coat and even left a few marks on me. The air was impossible to breathe, what with all the dust filling it and my eyes began to burn with all the gunk that drifted into them. But none of that mattered because in the distance I could hear that sound growing louder and louder. *Clank* *Clank* *Clank* Eventually the tunnel gave way to this giant stretch of empty space. I scurried to my feet only to stop when I saw the darkness surrounding me. What little light that worked its way through that tunnel was swallowed up by that deep, dark shadow. My bravery fell away until I was just a little girl standing in the dark. “D-Daddy?” I called out, only for my words to be swallowed by a familiar rhythm. *Clank* *Clank* *Clank* I took a step forward, trying to force a smile on my face. It couldn’t be too bad, I told myself. This was the mine, afterall. They probably just had some tables and benches lying around. Nothing to be afraid of. Not with Daddy down there with me. Step by step I stumbled deeper into the mine, guided only by the distant sounds of stonework. I’m still not sure how I got outta there with my ankles unbroken. I called out into the dark a few more times, but nothing ever replied. That had to be the worst part. Aside from the clanking, I was all alone down there. I’d been by myself before, but the feeling of absolute isolation was crushing. I was starting to think it was just me down there when I saw something pierce through the darkness. There was a light out there, albeit a pathetic little thing. It flickered as if constantly on the verge of dying, but it was more than enough for me. I lunged forward, not caring what I might come smacking into. Not with my eyes glued to the flame like they were. Soon something else began to take form, a body outlined by the light. My heart nearly skipped outta my chest. “DADDY!!” I cried as I lunged at the figure and gave him the biggest bear hug in the whole wide world. I didn’t dare let him go as if me touching him was the only thing keeping him real. Snot and tears were running down my face, making it hard to even get my sobs out. Not that I needed to anymore. My Daddy was here. And I didn’t take that for granted either. I was gonna make good on everything I said. Only thing I could think of was all the homework I had to catch up on when we got home. Seems silly now, looking back, and that was before I felt the maggots crawling up my sleeve Now I may have been a little girl witnessing a miracle, but I was still a little girl and those fuckers were big as I’d ever seen them. In the flickering light I saw them falling from my Daddy’s pant leg onto my arms. Like I said, they were meaty fuckers with fat, bulbous bodies the size of your damn thumb. They even had this weight to them I could feel through my sleeves. And their faces, good god, they couldn’t even do that right. They were like flies with those alien mouths and big, inhuman eyes catching the light, all of which were looking right at me.  I yelped like a shot pooch and jumped back, frantically swatting those things off of me. Even now I’m still not sure I got them all. I can see feel their little legs crawling up my back and tickling my skin. Most crawl off into the dark after falling, but a few of them I saw inching their way back to my Daddy. As I watched, they climbed his boot and disappeared under his pant leg. I rushed forward to squish them, but that was when I finally got a good look at my Daddy. In one hand he held the stub of a candle under whose light I got a decent enough view of his face. I almost didn’t recognize him, there was so little left. Deep gashes criss-crossed his features, but there wasn’t any blood. Through them all I could dust stained bones peering out with scraps of dry fleshing hanging from them. A rock had speared through one of his eyes, undoubtedly scraping the back of his skull too. But none of that could compared to seeing what crawled through his mangled visage. I could see them poking through his skin. Through his wounds I could see others crawling around inside. One of them crawled out through a hole in his neck, scurried along his face, and then disappeared after wiggling its way into his skull. Whatever hope I had of squashing them all died in that instant.  But through it all, the wounds and that maggots that dwelled inside them, I could still see my Daddy. Couldn’t even pretend it wasn’t him all full of worms. Yet as I looked up at him, he didn’t look back at me. His remaining eyes, milky and lifeless as it was, were focused solely on the wall he stood before. In his other hand he raised the end of a pickaxe and beat it against the stone over and over again. *Clank*  *Clank* *Clank* ​ *Clank*  *Clank* *Clank* ​ Even in death, my Daddy was the greater miner you’d ever seen. His hand, nothing more than bone and dry skin, was still steady as the stone he chiseled at. There was no other way to do it. That’s what he always told me. Any work worth doing is worth doing right. Pretty sure he got that off a poster or something, but by good did he live by it. Die too, I suppose.  And those things crawling around in him, they were giving him a chance to do just that. Inch by inch he’d carve away at the cave, looking for something to bring back home to us. With every strike, a crusty piece of flesh drifted from him. With every strike, cracks raced up his old ones. With every strike, he persisted. But this mine, these walls, they were long dead.  “D-Daddy?” I didn’t know what I was saying, but that didn’t stop me. “Daddy, please stop.” *Clank*  *Clank* *Clank* “We’re going to Aunt Tiff’s place now. You don’t gotta keep working.” *Clank* *Clank* *Clank* “Daddy, you can stop that now. There’s nothing down here.” *Clank* *Clank* *Clank* “Can’t you hear me? That wall’s empty. You’re not gonna find anything anymore.” *Clank* *Clank* *Clank* “Stop it!” I begged, spit flying from my mouth. “Stop it now, please! That line is dead. This mine is dead! All of it is dead!” *CLANK* *CLANK* *CLANK* “Stop it! You’re fucking dead, so just stop it!!” It was then my words finally caught up to me. They hit the cave walls and came bouncing back at me before settling like nails in my gut. For the first time it all felt real even if it hurt so goddamn much. I couldn’t let my Daddy keep digging away at those walls. He deserved a good long rest. Even a little brat like me could’ve seen that. He swung his ax into the wall and when he went to pull it back, something stopped him. He looked down to find what had interrupted his work and saw a little girl hanging from his sleeve. She was standing on her tippy toes with her fingers just barely holding on. She couldn’t have stopped him. I think somewhere deep down he knew that. But for just a second she might’ve been able to make him listen. “It’s alright.” I said to him, “You can stop working now. I’ll take care of Momma, now. We’re gonna be alright.” He stared at me for the longest time. I can’t say what he was thinking. Maybe whatever was left of him couldn’t even do that. But whether it was, be it him or a pile of squirming worms, it heard me. It lowered its arms, settling me on the ground before dropping the ax. It clattered to the ground, heavy and lifeless, before he turned, pressed his back to the wall, and lowered himself to the floor. He rested his head against the stone and simply stopped. No more movement apart from the worms under his skin. No light safe for the candle dying in his hand. I wanted to hug him one more time. Just give him the biggest squeeze ever and feel his warmth once again. But I knew that time was long past. I turned and started fumbling my way back out of the cave, leaving my Daddy to his rest. No one knows exactly what happened that night and I’d prefer to keep it that way. I'm only writing this now to get it all out my head. Whatever found my Daddy down in those mines, I don’t think we want it up here with us. If you're reading this thinking you might wanna try and find them, I welcome you to try, but know that you're just wasting your time. There's nothing worth finding down there. Not anymore. Since then, I kept my promise. Momma and I moved out to my Aunt’s where she managed to find a decent job working retail. It wasn’t always easy, but we survived. I never told her what happened that night. Even if she believed me, I don’t think it would have done her any good. She’s doing well last time I checked. Settled down with some guy named Frank a few years back. He’s boring and has a voice like sandpaper, but he’s also good for her.  As for me, things have been steady. Got my degree a few years back. Work’s been smooth. A little bumpy, but nothing to complain about. In fact, I got offered this new gig by some start up in Beijing. I’d have to move out to China if I accept. It’s not through a hole, but I'll get there, Daddy. Just you wait.

Found

y6shqo

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y6shqo/found/

(The following is a found journal of prisoner Jake Ralph of the Easterling Correctional Facility for men located in Clio, Elmore County, Alabama) Day 267 It must have happened over night. For as the morning sun poured through the skylights, it was quickly realised that our schedule had been changed. There was no roll call. Instead the guards went by each cell and left generous plates of food, along with three bottled waters, within reach outside the bars. It was the full shift. Passing by each other in an excited and highly nervous pace, making sure no prisoner went without.Fortunatly for me, Richard was on his way to my cell, which was in the upper floor of the block. In front of him were the three of the plate holders, while he lugged the cooler that contained the beverages. I asked him what was going on. The guards exasperated face was identical with the rest and at first it seemed he would pass by my cell without even making eye contact with me. But, I recon, his conscious over my past good deed of saving him a brutal shank to the ribs caused him to return the good will by delivering me the most disheartening news since my sentence. “We are leaving all of you...” As he turned away from me I slowly felt myself slump down to the cement floor with my hands sliding down the bars. I watched as a singular fly landed on the bread which sat on top of a mountain of Insta-Mash, beans, and something that resembled meat-loaf. The three bottles of Deer Park water stood together dripping presperation into the grime. Eventually, the fly left. The water rumbled slightly. I pushed my plate to my left to Charles in the cell next to me. I wasn’t hungry, neither did I feel like being so. I just wanted to sleep. The night before I prayed to God and asked him if my life was worth living through, would he please send me just a tiny shred of good news. I laid their on the floor clenching an iron rod in my right hand fully understanding the answer that had been given to me. I thought of my wife and baby girl leaving Alabama before all of this chaos began. They were safe, hopefully. But, I wondered what Sue was seing on news reports if the world noticed us missing. Did she worry for my safety. Did she feel any sorrow whatsoever for our separation. More than likely not. I remembered the day she said goodbye to me behind the glass. She had tears in her eyes. Tears for her new life without me. Without my anger. I fell asleep there on the floor, ignoring the cries and moans of my fellow prisoners. Abandoned Day 1 I awoke, in what looked to be afternoon, from a dream of open and empty cells in darkness. But there was a light in one of the cells below, like a fire lit up for camping through the dark, solitary night. I looked down in the world of reality and could see the same cell closed as well as unoccupied. What did the dream mean? I walked over to my cot and lay down in an attempt to catch another glimpse of that world of shadow. Are dreams affected here too? Abandoned Day 2 Chuck Able broke his neck across the casim. He shoved his head between the bars and whirled his body counter clock wise. Those on my side of the walkway began to scream, cry, vomit. I just looked on in admiration. I dont know if I would have the stones to do that. He had been silent up till now. He was about to make parole before the so called “Snap” happened. About to see his son for the first time. Visit his fathers grave. I slept. I made it out of my cell and to the starcase before waking up in the middle of the night from the sound of Charles calling to me from his cell next to mine. He asked me if I was hearing “that sound I wasn’t. At least not while awake. Abandoned Day 3 Joel Sykes broke free. He was able to pry the hinges of his cell door with a butter knife he smuggled. The entire Block cheered for him as he jogged out of the corridor with his arms up like RocKy. He said that he would activate the door locks and free everybody. I didnt want to go. I wanted to sleep so I could see the fire in the cell. I would get my chance, because Joel ran back into the corridor screaming. He reentered his cell and replaced the spikes for the doors hinges. I lay down again and close my eyes. I hear the sounds now. A legion of shrills in the distance. They are coming. In my dream I made it to the cell. There was a man inside. Black. Wearing a stripped uniform like prisoners from the chain gang days. Said his name was Cecil. I woke up. Abandoned Day 4 I want to talk to Cecil. But I cant sleep. The sound has surrounded the prison. They are deafaning. I cant hear anybody anymore, just those things from deep under the earth. They will break in soon. The gaurds were nice enough to chain the doors, but they will break through. Nothing we can do. I sleep. Cecil has golden eyes. He comforts me and tells me that I am only human and that we are made to be flawed and make mistakes. Our efforts to live a moral life are only imitations of Gods. We are a joke. Together we can laugh. Abandoned Day 5 I awoke to the things at the bars. They are the lost souls of Tarturus. Mangled. Demonized. Human. They shake and pull at the bars to get to me. They cant break through,but they will. Charles head was just passed by. It was still screaming. They will get in and rip me apart like they all were by Cerberus, whose many breathes I hear outside the walls. I sleep. Cecil is standing in my cell. “We dont want to be here.” He says. “But we must. Your prison is linked with ours, and we all must share our cell together.” His golden eyes shine beautifully. I embrace him like I did my father when I seen him last. Found Day 1 I awoke to my door being opened and hands lifting me from my bed. They took me out into the corridor where a new river is flowing through the prison. A new Styx. They take me out to the cliff edge where the earth had broken through and I seen him. My new father with six golden eyes. I am allowed to finish my journal before I am taken. I was chosen to take a task. With shedded skin and skeletal hands I take my row. (The rest is illedgible.)

My own stupidity saved my life

y6q750

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y6q750/my_own_stupidity_saved_my_life/

I am a very dumb person. I’m not mentally challenged or developmentally disabled; I’m “all there” in a cognitive sense—there's just not much that’s, well, *there.* I wouldn’t call myself stupid, as that seems just a bit too harsh, and neither would I describe my general behavior and outlook on life as idiotic. I have sense—but am often not very sensible. I think dim-witted would best describe me, both academically and socially. Yes, dim-witted is perfect.  I have taken the time to belabor a description of my intelligence for a purpose that will become apparent later on in this short tale.  Whilst casually strolling along in my neighborhood after having spent the better part of the day staring off into space—a frequently indulged activity of mine—I was suddenly accosted by two gentlemen. These gentlemen were plainly not of the area, for one bore the likeness of a newly risen ghoul, and the other of its duty-breaking caretaker. The former, having a sallow and sunken face—upon which actively feasted several plump maggots—stepped immediately in front of me and said, “Apologies for the interruption, but we require your viscera.”  Being a generous person, I would’ve given them a portion of my innards, had I the capacity to subsist without them. But lacking that physiological aptitude, I was forced to decline. Perhaps expecting such a response, the other gentlemen—dressed in an all-encompassing trench coat, with a black tricorn atop his head—withdrew a pistol from the pocket of the aforementioned coat, and summarily fired it at my head.  I fell, and the two gentlemen promptly began their business of unburdening me of my visceral organs; bringing forth a leather doctor’s bag and a large Tupperware bowl.  Darkness fell over my vision, and after a short interim of rather calming nihility, I awoke—perceiving again the mundane world. I at once surmised that the bullet had not had a fatal impact due to my characteristic lack of grey matter. Not for the first time in my life, I thanked the Creator for having so generously blessed me. A glance at my stomach—the clothes that had covered it torn and discarded—showed the evidence of a small incision, along which ran several neat stitches. I remarked aloud that had I known I’d be spared death, I would’ve at least expected grislier results. But my surgeons had performed quite an immaculate operation, and I felt only slightly less gastrically encumbered. Apparently, they hadn’t needed much. *Ah ha!* I thought to myself, *the anatomist is yet another learned man whose teachings needn’t be so faithfully believed!* Arising, I continued along, my mood no less cheerful. But then certain baselessly profound thoughts came to me, as did some rather insightful observations of my environment - both clearly of a higher intellectual order than anything I’d previously been capable of. After a moment of contemplation—which in itself was rife with considerations and ideas wholly unsuitable—I came to the conclusion that I was under a spell of some sort; that I had not actually awakened from my abdominal operation.  Coeval with this revelation, the world began to peel away, disintegrating like a wind-ravaged flower; and after a few moments I found myself staring up into the infinitely grim face of that dubiously dressed gentlemen. The ghoul (who was, I should mention, entirely naked) stood a few paces away, apparently keeping watch. The man recoiled, not anticipating my premature awakening. He asked how I had come to relieve myself of the spell, and I politely informed him that while the verisimilitude of the dream to reality was impeccable, the clarity and acuity of thought he had endowed me with was wholly unbefitting of my normal abilities.  Crestfallen, he rose from his crouched position and stepped a few paces back, allowing me to collect myself and rise. He hadn’t yet cut into me, and I realized, dimly, that the actual operation probably required quite a bit of preparation – if the organs were to be harvested properly.  The ghoul, overhearing the conversation, hissed and spat at his companion, deriding him for over-estimating my intelligence. By way of response, the would-be surgeon started to cry. Wanting to get on with my sojourn—for it was growing late and I am quite terrified of the dark—I announced that I was leaving them to their sepulchral business, and side-stepped the sobbing man. The ghoul—for whom my organs would’ve doubtlessly been harvested—maneuvered to block my path, and declared that he was still inexorably hungry. Not wanting him to go without food—for he was already severely emaciated—I resolved to help him in his troubles. Turning to the gentlemen I’d passed, I proceeded to rain blows upon him, until he was quite dead, or at least firmly unconscious. Then, gesturing to the collapsed man, I said, “Well, here is provender for your empty belly. Eat well, and be happy.”  Not caring that I had pummeled his companion, the ghoul nodded, a hunger-induced lunacy etched upon his cadaverous face. He strode past and without any culinary preamble began tearing into the unconscious man. Just when the ghoul had unceremoniously created an aperture in the man’s belly, the man cried out in maddened agony – and I felt a rush of relief, for I had never committed the act of murder, and would’ve despaired to have wasted the opportunity on such a considerate man as that. (Considerate in the sense that he had kindly over-estimated my intellectual ability.) I promptly hurried along, noticing with a chill that the shadows about the area were lengthening, and that the sun had nearly achieved its plunge below the edges of the flat earth – leaving in its wake the far-spanning wings of night. The encroaching black was quite frightful, and an eerie trilling and chittering of evilly jubilant insects rose above the choked gurgles of the ghoul’s meal. I really, really do not like being outside under such frightening circumstances. Who knows what could be lurking in the depths of that illimitably pervasive darkness? 

The memory from the past, created in the future, remembered in the present.

y6tgcx

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y6tgcx/the_memory_from_the_past_created_in_the_future/

I was tortured in the past for something I will do in the future Let me explain….. I was in bed, ready to fall asleep when I started remembering something I don’t remember remembering before.. I was walking home from my first job after closing up for the night when I was pulled into an alleyway by a masked man. I remember trying to scream for help but he punched me in the stomach and told me to shut up. I remember reaching into my pocket, taking out my wallet and begging him to take it from me so he wouldn’t hurt me but he said he wasn’t after my money. He was after me “Me?” I thought. “Why me? I don’t know you” I asked “Not yet you don’t but future you does” “Future me? What are you on about?” “You did something in the future to really piss me off, now I’m getting payback” “This guy’s crazy” I thought “Future? Yeah right” I tried to stand up but he pulled a knife out of his back pocket and pointed it at me “Move and I’ll kill you” I stayed on the ground, confused “So what did future me do to you then?” “Can’t say or it won’t happen” “Well if I did something to piss you off in the future, wouldn’t you want me to know what I did so I can avoid doing whatever it is I did to piss you off” “Sure but that’s boring” “So how did you get here then?” By the way, I still thought this guy was crazy at this stage. I was just playing along to buy time and think of an escape “This”. He rolled up his sleeve and showed me what looked like a watch “A watch?” “Not just a watch. A time travel watch” “Okay then. Prove it” I expected him to make up an excuse but he grabbed my wrist, said “1990” and then there was a flash of light. We were still in the same alleyway as before but it was a bit different. He told me to get up and follow him and when we were out of the alleyway, everything looked like it didn’t belong in the year 2018. “This is 1990. See, proof”. “This is real” I thought He dragged me back into the alley and spoke to his watch “2018” There was a flash of light and then we were back in the alleyway only this time it looked how it did before “How far in the future do we meet?” “About 10 years from now” “When was time travel invented?” “About 6 years from now” “Why haven’t we seen proof of time travel?” “You have. Ever heard of the Mandela affect?” “Yeah” “That was the creators of time travel experimenting” “Experimenting?” “Yes. You remember Looney Tunes being spelled “Looney T O O N S” correct? But it’s actually spelled “T U N E S?” “Yes. Well it was originally spelled T O O N S but one of the creators traveled back in time, pitched the idea of it being spelled T U N E S and then it was changed. That’s why you remember it that way” “I still don’t understand” “When something is changed in the past, everyone in the present still remembers how things were originally in the past even though the thing had changed” “I’m still confused” “Future yous won’t be though. Now, back to what I came here for” He pulled out the knife on me again. “Woah woah, let’s talk about this” “No” First he kicked me in the head “Please, let’s talk about this” “Shut up”. He kicked me again. Then he sat on me, lifted up my shirt and carved the word “cunt” on my stomach. I never remembered seeing a scar that resembled the word “cunt”, but when I lifted up my shirt to take a look, it was there. In big capital letters, carved into my stomach were the letters “C U N T”. Then he grabbed me by the shirt and pinned me against the wall. He placed the knife to my face and carved a penis shape into my cheek. That was never there before but when I took out my phone and switched to my front camera, there was a scar that resembled a penis. Then he spent a few minutes beating me. I sat up against the wall, covered in blood. “Wh-why now?” I asked He didn’t reply and then spoke clearly into his watch “2031”. There was a flash of light and the man was gone. I stayed sitting there against the wall all night in pain, confused and trying to wrap my head around how all this time travel bullshit worked but never could. It was only that night, the night I remembered when I figured it out. The events of the memory were happening live as I was remembering them, just a few years in the past. The reason I never noticed those scars was because I didn’t have them until that night. Whoever he is, whatever I did to him must’ve been bad for him to do this to me. I guess I’ll just have to make sure not to piss anyone off anytime soon, or ever.

Does anyone else have these HRT side effects?

y6a6sh

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y6a6sh/does_anyone_else_have_these_hrt_side_effects/

I want to preface this by saying that I love my mother deeply. It cannot have been easy to be a black single mother, but she’s always tried her best to give me a comfortable life. She provided for me to the best of her abilities and shielded me from the worst aspects of poverty, while making sure I still knew what was going on. When I came out to her she was nothing but supportive. She seamlessly went from calling me her “baby girl” to “her baby boy”, she helped me pick up clothes that fitted me, chose a new name for me at my request, and she even paid what she could for my top surgery. I know how lucky I am to have such a supportive mom. Not all of my queer friends have that chance and we’ve housed a couple of them on occasion… That being said, I now realize that my mother is also a woman who loves her secrets. I’ve started HRT 5 months ago. This is my journal. If anyone has had any of the following side effects from testosterone please. Please. Reach out. We really need to talk. April 2nd. Day 2 on T It felt weird to start on April first, so here we are. The first shot yesterday was scary. I’m glad mom helped me through it, but I have to learn to do it alone. I’m still scared of having messed it up somehow. But it’s been hours now and I feel fine. April 7th. Day 7 on T. I’ve never looked at myself in the mirror as much as I do now. It’s exhilarating, looking at my reflection and hunt for the slightest change. Was that hair here yesterday? Has my body fat changed place already? Is my voice lower or is it just in my head? I already look pretty masculine mind you, mom cut my hair better than any barber, and now that I’ve yote my tits, my chest is as flat as it’s ever going to be. But still, I want to grow a cool beard or have a squarer jawline. My friends keep telling me I should lower my expectations, that T isn’t going to turn me into René Jean-Page… Well I’m sorry for you and your poor genetic material, but my dad was a hunk ; so if I end up looking anything like him they might as well call me for the next season of Bridgerton right now! (I’m kidding guys, I love you, please don’t kill me in my sleep if you ever read this…) April 18th Day 18 on T Wow, bottom growth is no joke! April 29 Day 29 on T Hair! Hair! On my belly? What the fuck? May 10th Day 39 on T Acne? Really? Once of that shit wasn’t enough? Man this second puberty sucks! July: 2nd Day 63 on T I take back everything I’ve said, second puberty is fucking awesome! I’ve been hitting the gym since I was a teen and I’ve never \*ever\* seen gains like that! My muscles are inflating like balloons after the slightest bit of exercise it’s \*insane\*! Also, my shoulders are so much broader now?! Like, holy hell, call me freaking Michael Phelps! I may or may not have taken and sent a few dozen thirst traps to my group of friends… But honestly, I’m not going to have a body like that and not take pictures of it. Acne be damned! I mean, it’s not like anyone’s gonna look at my face when I carry \*these guns\*! And Lo, the NB cutie from our queer GC, loves the pictures, so you can bet it’s only the beginning of my reign of terror! July 4th, Day 65 on T. I’m having some killer headaches lately. Nothing to do with my T as the internet, my friends and my doctor assured me. I might need to watch out for iron deficiency though… July 7th, Day 68 on T So… My wisdom teeth just grew through. Which is weird, ‘cause I had them removed in my senior year of high school. I’ve looked it up and apparently it’s a thing that can happen. It’s not the original wisdom teeth growing but another set called “supernumerary teeth”. It’s rare, but not completely unheard of. At least that explains the headaches. July 14th, Day 75 on T. My pitch dropped!! It was so sudden but now I sound so se\~xy! I went to Mac Donald’s the other day and everyone called me sir! Even after I’d ordered! My gender euphoria is through the roof! Unfortunately so are my headaches. Or I guess “jaw ache” is more appropriate? My surprise teeth mustn’t be done growing through ’cause my jaws feel super uncomfortable. Sometimes the pain flairs suddenly and nothing but yawning can make it go away. I’m always snacking or chewing gum, as working my jaws seems to be the only thing that alleviates the pain. I feel like a teething baby all over again. But when I look at my teeth or jaws in the mirror, nothing seems out of place. I haven’t told mom about any of this yet. Dental is expensive and it’s probably going to go away when the teeth are done growing, right? July 15th Day 76 on T: I think I’ve gotten taller. Mom thinks she’s just shrinking faster than she thought, but I know it’s not that. The other day when I grabbed the flour from the top shelf, I felt the difference. I’ve always \*always\* had to stand on my toes to reach that last shelf before. But not this time. That cannot be the result of T. Every single trans person and health professional will tell you the same thing: Testosterone does not influence bone growth after puberty. And I’m well past that. But my transmasc buddies are also saying they’ve been standing straighter since they’ve transitioned, and that they felt those few inches difference… I sure hope it’s that. ‘Cause between the headaches and the rash that just appeared on my belly, there is only so much I can deal with. August 1st, Day 92 on T: Fucking rash! That sucks way way more than the acne. I can’t even find clear info about it online. Some people say it might come from HRT, others just from stress. I tried booking an appointment with a trans friendly dermatologist, but he is booked ‘til October! I’ll have flayed myself alive by then I’m so fucking itchy! I’ve tried some over the counter creams and they work enough for me not to consider going to a random doctor… Yet. If this goes on I might have no choice, transphobic pieces of shit be damned. Maybe Lo will accompany me if I ask them? If I only had to show my belly it might not be a problem (since I’m so swole now) but the rash is drawing weird lines across my torso, and some of them follow my top surgery scars perfectly. I feel like they’ve gotten thicker, more visible and kinda… Wet? It’s not all bad though ‘cause I finally have facial hair! That took long enough. And ok my mom burst into laughter when she saw the beginning of my patchy beard, but just you wait mother! With the help of a few shaves and a lot care, these barren wastelands shall soon become a lush forest! Or so I hope, I should probably look up beard products. August 12th At least my jaw doesn’t hurt anymore. I’m just going to write what happened. I was watching the most boring series ever on Netflix while waiting for mom to come home from her shift. I yawned. And my jaw unhinged like a snake’s. It was unlike anything I had ever felt. Not only did my lower jaw entirely separated from my upper jaw, but I clearly felt a second set of bones unfold. I stood there, shaken, for a few seconds. Then I ran to the closest mirror and yawned again. Only to see the lower half of my face split open into a monstrous jaw. The kind of shit you see on documentaries about the creatures of the deep. I apparently have a whole new articulation in my fucking mouth and it comes with a brand new set of teeth. What the fuck is happening to me? What the fuck is happening and how do I make it stop?! August 15th I haven’t left my room in three days. Told mom I got COVID so that she wouldn’t come in except to give me food. I don’t know what to do. When I’m not yawning my face looks normal, and my beard’s even getting fuller, but I just… I’ve grown almost a full foot in the span of a month. Fat repartition? More like fat disappearance! I’m all muscles and skin now, I look like I’m on steroids, this cannot be normal! I’m not even eating, just the smell of food makes me sick. But I can hear my guts make weird noises, and I have a strange feeling in my belly like… Like something’s moving. And then there is the rash… It’s gotten worse. Now my scars are dribbling some weird sticky fluid, along with most of the lines on my belly. I want to scratch them so bad but the idea of touching them makes me sick. What is happening to me? Am I dying? Mom I’m sorry. August 16th I was in the bathroom when it happened. I had just gotten around taking a shower. I was feeling better: The rash had lessened, I was feeling hungry again and as long as I didn’t think too much about my jaw it wasn’t that bad. I was looking at my body, my tall muscular body, with large shoulders and hair in expected and less expected places. I was feeling good about myself, about how much I looked like the man I’d always wanted to be seen as… So I smiled. And by some horrifying muscular chain reaction, that unhinged both of my jaws. Yes. Both. The foldable top one, with articulated additions and two dozens more teeth that it should have had… And the bottom one I didn’t even know existed until that point. My torso unfolded like a deep sea creature, toothy appendages linked by gossamer thin skin opened wide, reaching for the world outside in a tentacular embrace. I thought for a second my innards would splash on the ground in a writhing mess now that they weren’t being held by my skin anymore… But instead realized I had no more innards to speak of. My insides were unrecognizable, looking nothing like a human digestive system. Staring at them for too long made me want to vomit from the sheer impossibility of what was going on. It was like the drop of a roller coaster… Except it wasn’t stopping. So I fell to the floor, and I screamed. I cried, not knowing what to do with that monstrous body, torn between euphoria and horror as its massive muscles rolled under deep brown skin and its incomprehensible double maw moved in a way that added a wobbly quality to my cries of despair. Mom barrelled into the bathroom, eyes wide in fear. I had forgotten she was here today, looking after me as she’d always done. She froze for a second, seeing me on the ground… Then slowly bent down, gathering my hulking shape in a tight embrace. Her arms looked so small to me now. “My baby boy….” she softly whispered while cradling and rocking me, “It’s alright. It’s all going to be fine.” “I’m turning into a monster!” I sobbed. “No you’re not sweetheart. You’re just starting to look a lot more like your dad.”

My Friend and I Played A new Game at the Sleepover

y6wmfm

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y6wmfm/my_friend_and_i_played_a_new_game_at_the_sleepover/

Let me start off by saying, I don’t see my friends very often anymore. The reason I shut my friends out is because of “the incident” that occurred back in middle school. We didn’t get into a fight or anything, it’s because of a game. It started as a stupid idea for a game, the year was 2014. My friend group consisted of Logan, Christy, David and Alicia, for story purposes I will not state my name. We were not very popular, usually we sat in the corner of the lunchroom. It was Spring Break and we wanted to spend more time together. We were spending the night at my house as my parents were absent for the weekend. We were playing your typical board games and run of the mill sleepover party games. But then we weren’t. Logan suggested a game he had learned at Summer Camp. The game was titled “Aut Celare Mors” you play by saying some stupid gibberish while one player stands in the middle of a circle you must form. The person then becomes “possessed”and you must hide, or you die. My friends and I did not believe in this, yet we were proven very wrong. We forced Logan to step into the middle of the circle. We then muttered some strange gibberish. And for a solid minute nothing happened, until Logan started seizing, blood began pouring out of his mouth only for him to begin laughing. His pupils rolled back in his head… and then he started counting. My friends and I did not know what to think, except to hide. I’m not quite sure where Christy hid yet I knew David and Alicia hid together. Logan began saying “Ready or Not?” In a voice that clearly was not his. Logan then began roaming around to try to find his prey. I did hear Christy begin to scream, as well as a sickening splat. I was still in a cabinet in my parents room. I immediately heard running coming my way and someone began going through everything in my parents room, it was not Logan, I did see David however, he spotted me and told me that Alicia was dead and we needed to get out of here. However we heard Logans footsteps begin coming our way. I hid back in my place and David hid in the shower. Logan then left the room and was occupied in a different room. David and I then tried to book it towards the door. We did not get far before Logan spotted us. He then started spewing more blood from his mouth and fell over. David had now been covered in Logans blood. David and I approached Logan and had found out, he was dead. David and I unlocked the door and ran out of my house very quickly. I got pretty far before noticing David was no longer next to me. I looked back to see David start seizing while his eyes rolled back, far back into his head, and then, David began to count.

Mole

y6r8m6

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y6r8m6/mole/

My day started off the same as any other. I got out of bed and went downstairs to make breakfast. I opened up my fridge and got out the milk. I poured my cereal into a bowl then, as any sane person would do, poured the milk on top. Unfortunately, I overestimated the amount of milk that was left in the jug. Now I had too much cereal and not enough milk, and of course you can’t return the cereal to the box since it’s all slightly soggy, so I just had to deal with pushing the cereal around with my spoon to try to get enough milk on each piece before each subsequent bite. I was sure that I had plenty of milk the previous morning, so I didn’t even think to check to make sure. This kind of thing had happened a few too many times in the previous couple months. I really needed to keep better track of my things… I shrugged the thought off as my eyes quickly darted over to the clock. 8:24. I only had 6 minutes until I needed to be in the shower. I quickly finished up my breakfast, rinsed my bowl out, and put it in the dishwasher. I hopped in the shower two minutes late, so I needed to take a quicker shower than normal. It was starting to get cold outside, and I usually love taking twenty minute hot showers before going out, but an eighteen minute shower would have to do. After finishing my slightly shortened shower, I put on my work clothes and headed out. Work was fine. A bit boring, but fine. I don’t love my job, but I don’t hate it either. It pays the bills, and that’s what really matters. A few hours later, the clock hit 5 and it was time to head home. On my way, I stopped by the grocery store to restock. I was feeling a bit feisty today so I picked up an extra jug. I hadn’t let milk go bad in years. Maybe it would be easier to start buying two jugs at a time? Well, the best way to find out is to test it and see how it goes. After completing my purchase, I drove home. I live in a modest ranch style home and I quite like it. It’s not too big, has an open floor plan, and is just generally cozy. I brought my groceries inside and put them all away before preparing dinner. I grilled some chicken on the stovetop and microwaved a bag of frozen broccoli. I love this kind of meal. It’s quick and easy, but still healthy and delicious. Not 30 minutes after I finished cooking my meal, I had already eaten and cleaned everything up. Another benefit to this sort of cooking. I figured I would spend the rest of the evening watching TV, then head off to bed at around 10 to ensure I would get enough sleep for work the next morning. I sat down and let the evening relaxation begin, though for some reason, I got the feeling that I was being watched… I woke up on the couch with the TV still on. I must have dozed off at some point… I looked up at the clock. 11:53. It was time to get up and go to bed for real this time. I stood up, but as I shut off the TV I thought I heard a sort of scuttling sound behind me. I turned around, but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. The kitchen was just as I had left it, nice and tidy. It must have been my imagination. I walked into the bedroom, shut the door, and went to sleep. The next morning, I got out of bed and went downstairs to make breakfast. I opened up my fridge and got out the milk. I poured my cereal into a bowl then, as any sane person would do, poured the milk on top. This time, I had enough to fully cover the cereal. Much better. After finishing my breakfast, I checked the time on the clock. 8:27. Perfect. I should be able to get my full twenty minutes today. I put the milk back in the fridge, but stopped for a second. There was no second jug of milk. That’s odd… hadn’t I just yesterday bought two jugs of milk instead of one? Perhaps I had only considered purchasing the second jug and decided against it at the last moment. Yes. That must have been what happened. 8:28. I had spent too much time on this, I was wasting precious shower time. I finished putting my dishes away and got in the shower at precisely 8:30. Twenty minutes later, I put on my work clothes and headed out for the day. It was Friday. I quite liked Fridays. I got to leave at 4:30 if I finished all my work on time and then I got the next two days off. Just think of how many episodes I could watch! After what somehow seemed to be longer than a normal work day, the time had finally come for me to head home. After getting out of my car, I walked up to my front door. Sitting on the welcome mat was a small box. I brought the box in with me and opened it up on the kitchen counter. Inside was a small bag of cookies. Attached to the bag was a note, “Hey John, I’ve been trying to perfect my cookie recipe and I think this newest batch might be the best one yet! Let me know what you think when I see you next Wednesday. -Toni”. I smiled. Toni made the best cookies. She was trying to become a famous baker, and honestly, she might make it. I opened up the bag and tried a cookie. Then two. Then four. Soon half the bag had been devoured. These cookies were delicious! I mustered up my self-control and set the bag on the counter. I would save the rest for later. Besides, I hadn’t even eaten dinner yet. After another delicious meal of two grilled chicken breasts and a side of corn, I sat down to finish out the night with a few hours of the best the TV had to offer. I turned on the tube and started flipping through the channels to see what was on. Finally, I settled on a documentary about rodents and lost myself in the narration. The narrator’s voice was so calm… so smooth… but again, I couldn’t help but get the feeling that I was being watched… I woke up on the couch, the TV still on. I must have dozed off at some point. I looked up at the clock. 1:07. Wow, it sure was late. I turned off the TV. It seemed to be time– I stopped as I heard a quiet wooden creaking sound from somewhere in the kitchen. I turned around, and saw nothing. my kitchen was still just the way I left it, everything clean and put away. I shrugged this off as the house settling and began to walk back to my bedroom. I reached out my hand towards the doorknob, but stopped just before grabbing it. There was nothing on the kitchen counter. Hadn’t I left the rest of my cookies out so they could be enjoyed later? I turned around and went into the kitchen to inspect the counter. Empty. Where had my cookies gone? I couldn’t find them anywhere. This was very strange. I knew that I had put them on the counter. I *knew* that I hadn’t finished them. I checked the floor. Nothing. The cabinets. No cookies. The fridge. Just a jug of milk. The trash can. Only trash. my cookies had simply disappeared. This was… odd, to say the least. Though it was 1:14 AM, perhaps I simply wasn’t remembering what I did with them. So, I returned to my room and went to sleep. The next day proceeded as usual. Breakfast, then a shower, then I was ready for the day. Though today was a bit different. I had nothing planned. I could simply stay inside and watch TV all day. So, that’s exactly what I did. I, of course, took regular stretching breaks and stopped for meals. I made myself a sandwich for lunch. The loaf of bread in my cabinet had seven slices remaining. I used two of them for my sandwich and questioned to myself why they would slice a loaf of bread into an odd number. You need two slices of bread for a sandwich, so what was I supposed to do with that extra slice? Make toast? I dislike toast. It’s too bland. Oh well, I would simply have to buy another odd numbered loaf to even things out. Not today though. Today was TV time. After a while, it began to get dark outside, and I was happy. It had been a good day. I made myself a steak for dinner, but then one thought popped back into my mind… What had I done with my cookies? I thought for sure that I would recall having put them somewhere at some point, but clearly that didn’t happen, so… where were they? I scoured the kitchen. No sign of the cookies anywhere. This was disappointing, to say the least. Those really were the most delicious cookies Toni had made yet, and I had only gotten to eat half of them. Oh well. I would simply ask Toni for more on Wednesday. I went back to the couch and began to flip through the channels again. My eyes grew heavy and I began to drift off… but what was that noise? It sounded like… some sort of scratching. Again, coming from behind me in the kitchen. It wasn’t loud, but it was enough to pull me back out of my near sleep. Scratch, scratch. There it was again. I got up to check it out. As soon as I stood up, the noise stopped. I thought I heard some light thumping, like something scurrying away, but it was very faint, so I was probably just imagining it. I walked into the kitchen and looked around for any signs of anything. Perhaps I had a mouse. Maybe that’s what happened to my cookies. I checked all over the floor, in the bottom of every cabinet, everywhere I had checked previously for the cookies and more, but this time for any sign of a mouse. Nothing. No droppings, no scratches, nothing. Everything was as I had left it. Except… didn’t I have five slices of bread? Why were there only four slices remaining in the bag? A slice was missing. This time I was certain. I had specifically made a mental note about the exact number of slices I had left. Something was going on here. I turned off the TV. I needed to focus. my food was going missing, but I didn’t have a mouse. What other possibilities were there? I checked my doors. Locked. I hadn’t gone out all day, and I knew that the slice had gone missing while I was still at home. What could have possibly happened? I had already checked the kitchen thoroughly for clues, but still nothing. Perhaps it was time to search somewhere else… I walked into the pantry. I’ve never liked the pantry. It’s… creepy. I can’t explain it, but I always get a weird vibe from the place. I always assumed it was just because it was a completely empty room, as I really didn’t need the extra space for food. I could easily keep everything in my cabinets in the kitchen. I tried to turn on the light. Nothing. Then I remembered the other reason why I don’t like the pantry. The lights stopped working. I’ve tried replacing the light bulb a dozen times, but every time I do it would go out within a day. I went and got a flashlight from the closet. I brought it into the pantry and shined it around, trying to see if there was any hint of what was going on. I searched everywhere and couldn’t find anything at first, but then… I noticed a thin line on the wall. It looked kind of like a scratch. Maybe this *was* some sort of mouse or something. But wait… the line was perfectly vertical. That’s not likely to be caused by an accidental scratch. I leaned in closer. It was completely straight, there’s no way this was an accident. It also seemed to be just over two feet tall, spanning the entire distance between the floor and the bottom shelf. I touched the line. It was indented into the wall, it was definitely not just a scratch. I ran my finger down the line and noticed that along the floor was actually another line. This one was much harder to see as it went across flush with the floor, but it was there. I looked up at the top of the vertical line, and sure enough there was a third line flush with the shelf above it. Was this… some kind of door? I pushed on the wall, and it let out a quiet wooden creak as the small trap door slowly swung open. Unfortunately the door was caught on something and wouldn’t open more than a few inches. I could just about shine my flashlight in and make out a little bit of what was in there. It appeared to be some kind of dirt tunnel. It wasn’t very big as far as I could see, but I couldn’t see much. As I shined my flashlight around I noticed the light glinting off of something just a couple feet into the hole. It looked to be just about within reach. I stuck my arm into the slit and just barely got my fingers to touch the source of the glint. It crinkled as I managed to trap it between two fingers and pull it back into the pantry. It was Toni’s bag of cookies. That’s where they went. I reasoned to myself that this must be where whatever was getting in was getting in. The weird thing was, there was still one full cookie left in the bag which really doesn’t make sense because why would a wild animal eat all but one of my cookies? This is getting a bit too weird… I examined the trap door again. It was amazing how well hidden this thing was. I had lived here for seven years now and had never noticed it, and now there was probably something living inside of it. That was a pretty terrifying thought. I pulled the trapdoor closed, well, as closed as I could get it without smashing my fingers, then locked the handle of the pantry door and shut it behind me as I walked back into the kitchen. I would need to call pest control in the morning to check this out. For now, it was time for bed. After just a few minutes I drifted off to sleep. Upon waking up, I had completely forgotten about the previous night's discoveries. Breakfast, shower, ready. I had a few errands I needed to get done, so I figured I might as well get to them as soon as possible. A little after lunch time, I had finished all of my errands and began to drive home. Then I remembered that I needed to call the exterminators. I was already out though, so I thought that I may as well just stop by since it was so close. I pulled into the parking lot and walked in. “Hello sir, how may we help you?” said the clerk. “Oh uh, yeah. So, I found a crack in my wall last night and a few small food items have been disappearing so I think I have a mouse or something. Could someone come and look at that for me?” I replied. “Certainly! If you would like, we have an availability in a couple hours, would that work for you?” “Sure. Here’s my address.” I wrote down my details and handed them to the clerk. “Thank you, we’ll be out soon with an estimate!” said the clerk, as I walked out the door. A few hours later, I heard a knock on the door. Pest control had arrived. “I’m here to see about a crack in your wall?” the man asked. “Yes, thank you. It’s right this way.” I led the man to my pantry, unlocked the door, then went in. “It’s right-” I stopped. The crack was gone. “...here?” The man leaned forward and squinted at the wall where the crack used to be. “Uh… I don’t see anything. Are you sure it was here?” the man asked. “Yeah, I’m positive… it was almost like a door, it swung open just a little bit, but now I don’t see anything.” I replied. I pushed on the area where the door was, but nothing happened. I pushed again, harder this time. It wasn’t moving. “I swear it swung open last night…” I mumbled. “Huh. Well that’s odd… I’ll have a look around and see if I can find anything else then.” he said. “Thank you.” After a few minutes of poking around, he couldn’t find any evidence of any animals and left. “Thank you so much, I’m sorry for wasting your time!” I said as he walked back to his car. “It’s alright, let us know if you find anything else,” he replied. I closed the door and went back to the couch. Was I going crazy? What was happening? I *know* I saw that trapdoor. How could it have simply disappeared? Something for sure was going on, but I just had no idea what it was… Oh well. I supposed I’d just have to set out a couple of mouse traps and see what would happen. That night after finishing up a few chores around the house, I went to bed. I laid awake for a while, just thinking about what was going on. Maybe I had simply imagined that door, but then, how had I retrieved the cookie bag from inside the hole? Perhaps it had just been shut so snugly that you couldn’t see the cracks anymore, but then… how had it been shut? I didn’t fully shut it, so something else must have. Maybe the temperature difference had sucked it shut. I’ve seen that happen with other doors before. Yeah, that’s got to be it. Knowing that I had solved the mystery, I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep. Suddenly I jolted awake. I couldn’t see very well, but it appeared that my bedroom door had been left open. I squinted hard to see if I could make out anything else and froze. I felt like I was being watched. No, I *knew* I was being watched. My eyes were beginning to adjust to the darkness, but I still couldn’t see anything besides my bedroom door, wide open, exposing myself to the outside world. I tried to sit up, but nothing happened. The piercing gaze I felt was coming from just out of the corner of my eye and I needed to see what it was. I did everything I could to turn my head, just a little, but nothing happened. I was petrified. I desperately poured all of my strength and concentration into one finger to just wiggle it a little bit to prove to myself that I still had some control… but nothing happened. I could feel my heart racing. There was nothing I could do. I was completely powerless. I tried to scream, but of course, I couldn’t. Whatever was watching me was right there, just out of sight, but I couldn’t even turn to see what it was. I tried again desperately to do something, anything… but as with all previous attempts, nothing happened. The only thing I could do was lay there. So lay there I did. After what felt like hours, I decided that enough was enough. I gathered together every ounce of energy in my entire body and focused it all directly into one single finger and flexed with all my might, but this time, it moved. That gave me the boost of confidence that I needed to keep going. I flexed another finger. It wiggled, just a bit. I tried to clench my fist. It just about did what I wanted it to. My elbow? Yup, now I can swing my forearm back and forth. Now my shoulder, and my torso too while I’m at it! Yes! I sat up! By now, my eyes had adjusted a little better to the darkness and I looked around. Nothing. I was alone. I let out a sigh of relief. Yet… I still felt that I was being watched. That’s ok. I would simply turn on the lights and prove to myself that nothing was there, that this was all just my imagination. I reached for the lights, then went cold. My entire body froze up, yet again. Another hand was already there. I didn’t know what to do, so I just stayed frozen, my hand resting on top of the stranger’s. I heard a slight giggle coming from the doorway, as the hand slowly slid out of mine and back towards the door. Then I heard that same familiar scurrying sound, followed by the wooden creak that I had become so used to, then, silence.

I'm trying to get rid of all of my money.

y6jqqb

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y6jqqb/im_trying_to_get_rid_of_all_of_my_money/

I work as a taxi driver in England. I don't work in a major city, but it is a reasonably large town. We get a lot of students so weekends between 1am-3am are the best times. I wouldn't say I'm exactly strapped for cash, but that might just be that I'm afraid to admit it. I have just about enough to get by from driving taxis, although business is undoubtedly on a decline, and last month I was seriously considering getting a second job on top of this. That was before the events that I'm about to tell you about. I've picked up some shady characters in my time. I've been driving taxis for about 6 years now, I've always worked for the same small local company - I was their fourth employee. But in my time here, there's definitely been a handful of drives I'll never forget. One of these, and the one this story starts at, was last month when a woman got into the car and told me to "just drive". It was bright out, and at first, I thought maybe she was being followed by some creep. She was carrying 2 large black duffle bags, each with 3 large ASCII smiley faces in a white font. Just ":) :) :)". This has given me a bad image of this symbol, I can't see it online or in a text without freezing up for a brief moment. I never got the woman's name, but she had shoulder-length red hair and looked to be in her early 20s. I kept asking the woman where she wants me to go and if she was in danger. But she just kept saying "just drive", and so I kept just driving. This went on for about 10 minutes, and I had driven to just about the other side of town. "This is fine, pull over." Finally, she said something else. As I pulled over, before the taxi had even come to a complete stop, she had opened the door and was climbing out. I yelled at her about the price, but it was no use - She was off and I didn't want to cause a scene by chasing her. Besides, she was clearly already scared of someone or something when she got into my taxi; I didn't want to frighten her more. I had gotten back to the town centre when I realised she had left one of the 2 duffle bags in the footwell in the back. It wasn't the bag or even the large white smiles that caught my attention, but the money that I spotted through the slightly unzipped opening. Looking back, I like to believe it was my intention at this point to turn around and hope the woman was nearby the drop-off spot. But truthfully, I think I had made up my mind about what I was going to do before I even unzipped the bag. Of course, once I did unzip it further, my decision was sealed regardless of my original morals. It was more money than I had ever seen in my life. Telling you this now, I can tell you it was exactly £1,000,000... But at the time, all I knew is that this money was enough to solve any issue I had in my life. It probably goes without saying, but I did consider the legality of this. I knew I could not be caught with this money. Not only did I steal it from someone, but they probably didn't obtain this money legally either. Who walks around with this much cash? And she probably had more in that other bag that she took with her. I did also consider that maybe this was intentional - Maybe I had just been used as her getaway vehicle. It would almost make sense: the scared look on her face, the leaving half of the money with me as a large "thank you". But then I consider the fact that she had no idea who I was - She couldn't trust me. I had seen her face, and this money in the bag was proof, evidence, that a crime had been committed. And unfortunately, if you're looking for an answer as to why she left this money or how she got it, you'll find exactly what I found - Nothing. I waited 1 week before spending a penny. I kept it under my bed; I checked it every day. Whenever I looked at the bag, I felt an almost haunting presence. I can't quite describe it, maybe it was guilt. All I know is that every time I took the bag out from its hiding place, I'd find myself just staring at the print on the side. "Smile, smile, smile." During this week, I did a lot of research to make sure I knew I wouldn't be caught with this money. The woman who got the ride was clearly in too much of a rush to remember both bags, there's no chance she took note of the company or license plate on my taxi. The odds of her tracking me down? Minimal. She didn't even look at me the whole journey. But she wasn't the only factor - Someone was going to be looking for this money. This belonged to someone, somewhere. I looked online and kept tabs on local news. The most that I saw was a robbery that had been attempted at a small corner shop, far out from where I picked this woman up. It was unsuccessful, all 3 robbers were caught (they were all students), and the odds of this small place having £1,000,000 was practically 0. I also emptied the duffle bag once or twice looking for trackers or a mobile phone, but there was nothing. This is also when I counted the money for the first time - Exactly 20,000 £50 notes. After a week, I bought something basic, as a kind of test to make sure the notes weren't marked or anything. I don't know enough about how this stuff works, I've only ever seen it in movies, I just know criminals demanding money in movies usually ask for "unmarked bills". So, I was checking that, I suppose. I bought a new dining set and a toaster. I went for ones that weren't super cheap, but nothing too fancy. Just enough where I could pay with £50 notes without it seeming strange - It came to £97.98. The cashier took the box, and my heart was pounding. As he scanned it, my heartbeat still felt louder than the beep of the checkout. I almost felt like everyone could see my body wobbling with each beat, but I knew this was probably in my head. "Do you have a loyalty card with us?" I gave him the 2 £50s. I didn't even register what he had said until he had taken it from me. "Shit", I thought. He leans into the microphone built into the desk, "Colleague to checkout 3, please, colleague to checkout 3." The pounding in my chest became a fast, racing beat. From slow, hard-hitting drums, to fast, unrhythmic tapping. "I'm sorry, is there a problem?" "Yes, the dining set box is damaged. I'm just going to get a new one for you in case anything inside is broken." I thought I was going to pass out from relief. The sudden change in emotion felt like it had given me whiplash. He handed me my change, and as soon as a new dining set box was handed to me, I left the store. I got into my car and quietly celebrated. It was a success! I had done it! And I hadn't gotten caught! It was a rush of excitement as I realised that this £1,000,000 truly was mine now. I immediately went too far and started looking for a new car. Currently, I used the taxi as my personal vehicle. My boss was kind and let me do that until I got my own. He told me that 6 years ago, and we haven't spoken about it since, I feel like he probably just found it too awkward to bring it back up once it had been too long. I found one in a local car dealership, and I checked on the website to make sure they take cash. They did. So I got home, took the boxes out of the taxi, and set them down in the kitchen. I plugged my toaster in and got the dining set out of the box. I was going to bring it to the sink to wash, as I always assume new cutlery is automatically dirty. But I immediately tripped - Every single plate and bowl smashed, and I hit the floor just after them. I was mostly okay, by my left palm was pretty badly cut up. There was blood all over where my hand had landed on the floor, but it probably looked worse than it was. I cleaned up the blood, and wrapped a bandage around my left hand. I still let my fingers poke out so I could clearly still drive, I didn't want to risk the car not being sold to me over a silly accident. I left the smashed pieces on the kitchen floor as I rushed out the door. It was 7pm, and already getting dark. I wanted to get this car before the place closed. It was only a 15-minute walk from my place. I wasn't planning to get a particularly exciting car - I knew that £1,000,000 was only a lot if you let it last. I wasn't going to go crazy and spend a quarter of it on a car. I found one for £11,300 that was nice enough for me. Silver, convertible roof, second-hand. The walk there was fairly quiet, as I live on the edge of town. Not many people are driving or walking through these parts, the roads are mostly empty at the busiest of times. There's not even an exit into the next village over, so there's no reason to pass through here. The deal itself went through clean and fast. They were closing soon after I got there so they were in a rush to get me out anyway. Before long I was driving it back home. The roads were just as quiet as my walk there. I only saw 1 other car on my drive, right behind me. It was matte blue, and seemed to be someone who lived near me, as they were taking every turn I took. As I slowed down ever-so-slightly at the final turn for my place, BANG. The only other car on the road crashes straight into me. We both get out of our vehicles. The person with their car up the rear of mine was a bald man, and the most apologetic guy I've ever met. Which I guess makes sense given this was entirely his fault. He said "sorry" so much I actually cannot remember how many times he said it. But I did not want any kind of investigation into what happened, or how I could suddenly afford a car on my wage. I convinced the man it was my fault, and not to contact his insurance. I gave him £7,000 and told him to just get his car repaired with that money. After a lot of convincing, he agreed, before apologizing even more. My car wasn't totalled, it wasn't even **that** bad for how hard the impact felt. The rear was a little caved in... But it still worked, and I drove the final 20 seconds home safely. Getting into my place, it was pitch black. I thought this was strange as I don't remember turning any lights off, but I instinctively reached for the switch and flipped it...and, nothing. Still pitch black. At this point, I got a flashlight and went to check the fuse box. Sure enough, a switch had been tripped. After 5 minutes of unplugging various things, I walked into the kitchen, forgetting about the smashed porcelain from earlier. The cuts on my feet weren't as bad as my left hand, but it still hurt and made me jump when I wasn't expecting it. Then my eyes fixed on the toaster, and I realised what was probably going on. I was right - After unplugging it, I could flip the switch back in the fuse box and the power came back! I guess I was sold a faulty toaster. I checked my fridge and had pretty much no food, so I decided I deserved a treat after a stressful day. I got the duffle bag and sat with it at the dinner table, and then ordered a pizza. I decided I was going to be nice and give a handsome tip of £50 to the delivery person. This was probably a symptom of having a guilty conscience; As excited as I was about this money, I couldn't help but keep thinking back to how I acquired it. After about half an hour, there was a knock at the door, and the pizza was here. I had a small conversation with the delivery guy - He was wearing a high-viz jacket, so most likely had to bike here, but it's only a few streets down so that's what I'd expect. The jacket actually looked pretty cool - It had a reflective version of the pizza place's logo. He said it was his last delivery and then he's home for the weekend. I gave my tip, which he greatly appreciated, and for a brief second, I felt like a good person. I sat down to eat. I had gotten the Meat & Veggie Feast, my favourite pizza from a local delivery place. It had ham, pieces of meatball, chicken, pepper, and sweetcorn. Usually, when I order this, it's a happy moment. It's a treat for myself or a celebration of something. On this day, though, the unforgettable memory is the pizza itself. Despite everything that had happened that day, the pizza is what made this day terrible. I got not even a few bites in when I started choking. Not just a small choke, where you feel awkward if you do it around people. I mean properly choking. For a solid 30 seconds, I could not breathe at all, yet it felt like minutes. I have never felt so terrified in my life because I truly thought it was the end of my life. The whole time, the bag felt like it was staring at me with 3 faces. "Smile, smile, smile." Once I stopped choking, I burst into tears. I cannot capture how I felt at this moment - I was scared. I went to bed without eating any more pizza. That night, I had a dream that was so vivid and realistic. I've never experienced something that felt so real, not even in reality itself. In the dream, I was using my new toaster, when it sparked and set fire to the cardboard box on the floor, the one it had arrived in. I unplugged the toaster as fast as I could and threw it away from the fire. It landed on its side, and on the bottom was an ID number for the product - 13775. This number had no significance to me, but I remember vividly reading it. At this point, I felt a burning sensation behind me. I turned around and the fire was growing more and more. Just standing near it was burning me. I woke up with a jolt, and with no hesitation, ran to where I had left the toaster. I look at the bottom. 13775. I know in my heart that this dream is showing me what should have happened. This toaster tripping the switch was actually the best possible scenario - The alternative would have ended up being this. At this point, I realised something. Something that made my heart sink. Every bad thing that had happened to me these past few days had been from possessions I had purchased with the money I stole. The cut hand, the faulty toaster, the car crash, the pizza. All of it was directly caused by this money. I know it sounds paranoid, but I could not shake the feeling that it had to be what was happening. I don't know why it's happening, but I just know it to be true. Maybe the money is cursed, or maybe this is punishment for me taking it. Whatever it was, I knew it couldn't be mine. My immediate thought was to donate it all to charity. Anonymously, of course, I didn't want any questions being asked. But that was when I turned on the TV and saw that one of the main roads in town is closed for the morning. They were talking about a car crash and that traffic would be bad for the next few hours. The picture being shown was of a matte blue car, crashed into a river that runs alongside the road. They didn't show who was in the car, but they said that 2 people were killed. The driver, and someone walking by - Apparently their clothes were too dark for the car to see them, as the news presenter used this time to warn people of how important it is to wear visible clothing at night. I turned off the TV. I felt sick. I don't think I need to explain what happened, I don't know if I even have the stomach to type it. But I knew at this moment that this money didn't exclusively harm me, but anyone. I could not in good conscience give this to a charity. My next thought was to gamble it all away. I have no proof, but I believe that the money only continues its curse if given away to someone, because then it still has a curse to carry out. If I buy something with it, and someone else ends up getting that money in the future, it has already carried out the curse on me through the object I purchased with it. It just made sense to me. I took £1000 with me to a casino. I used my taxi to drive there. The first thing I did was the roulette wheel, I bet all of my money on Black 13. Bad luck number, best possible chance to lose. They spin the wheel, and the ball goes round and round, making a *clack* sound as it hits each bump in the wheel. Eventually, the ball came to a stop, on a black tile. I couldn't see what number exactly, but as you might have guessed, as the wheel itself slowed down, it was clearly on 13. This trend continued all night. I played Blackjack - A game I'd never played before, I just went with the flow - and won. I played on the slot machines and got the jackpot on my first go. They were live-streaming horse races and taking bets, and of course, my horse would win every time. I went into this place with £1000 and came out with £20,561. I had done the exact opposite of what I was trying to achieve. In fact, this bought my total money overall to over £1,000,000. I gave up. I went home before the casino thought I was cheating - If that's even possible. I felt stuck. I had more money than I ever thought I would have in my life, and I wanted nothing more than to get rid of it. Last night, I did what had to be done. I took the duffle bag and drove to a lake on the other side of town. I actually had to follow the river that the matte blue car had crashed into to get there - It comes out into that same lake. The whole drive there I felt sombre. I was really getting rid of this money. In a way it made everything that had happened in the past couple of weeks seem worthless - I was just going to go back to how I was before all of this, and then what? All that harm was for nothing? Not a single thing is different, besides the downsides. But it was the only thing I could do. I pulled up in the car park for the lake. Unsurprisingly it was empty. Nobody wants to be at a lake when it's dark, not if you want to feel safe. Ironically, though, I was here for that very reason - To make myself feel safe again. I took another look at the duffle bag as I approached the edge of the lake. "Smile, smile, smile," why were these 3 faces on the front of the bag? Why do I even care? The lake water on this side of the lake came up slightly onto the grass pavement, like where the ocean meets the beach. the tips of my shoes were in shallow water, whilst the heels were dry. Just then, I felt something bump my shoe. It was a wad of cash. The exact same wad of cash I had given to the man who crashed into me. It had made its way down the river, and to me. As I bent down to pick it up, I also noticed another £50 was alongside it. This had not come from this same wad, it was separate - A total of £7,050. I'm still not sure where this came from. But I put it all into the duffle bag, zipped it up, and placed it on the floor. With a kick of my feet, it rolled into the lake, and I watched it sink. I drove back home, and last night, I had the best night's sleep I'd had for a while. I didn't dream anything - It was just peaceful. It was bliss. It was a much-needed sleep. But now, I don't know what to do. Because this morning, I woke up, and felt that the bed was damp. I noticed that my hand was touching something wet. Disgusted, I pulled the covers off of me. The duffle bag was there, on my mattress, soaking wet. I looked at the faces on the front, and noticed something different. "Smile, smile, frown."

What a crazy dream…

y7190b

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y7190b/what_a_crazy_dream/

I jump up in bed slowly taking on my surroundings after the night mare I just had. I decided to go make a cup of hot chocolate and share the nightmare with yall. It was a stormy night and I was sitting at home watching chick flicks. I turned to look out of my glass door watching the rain pounding the window. Then came the flash of lightning revealing a large shadow of what looks to be a giant creature on my porch but it was gone just as quick. After watching a couple more times and seeing nothing I figured it was just one of the many trees in my yard. Drowsiness finally hit me and I go to get in bed. The brightness of the moon from the window beside my bed doing close to nothing to lessen the darkness. I finally close my eyes right as the sound creaking floor boards sounded. I instantly shot up in bed thinking I imagined it. To my horror faint foot steps slowly creaked closer and closer to my room then stopped I saw what looked like the shadow of giant claws. I sat staring until the feet retreated and then silence. I shrugged it off and rolled back to face the wall I had just started to close my eyes when the lightning lit the room up enough for me to see the most monstrous creature in the far end of the room. It was quick but long enough to see the long sharp talons for hands and feet. Glowing red eyes on the most horrendous looking face showing it’s razor sharp teeth with an ominous grin drooling. With the next flash though it was gone. Yea definitely need to get to bed I’m hallucinating now. I lay back down and finally fall asleep. *Drip* drip*drip around 30 minutes later I awake and instantly scrunch my face wiping it from the rain now leaking through my roof…or so I thought…the second I open my eyes I see that horrendous face again drool hitting my cheek. It gives me a sinister grin and a low growl right before lunging at me clawing my arm teeth going for my face. (Dream Over) after jumping up and out the bed I finally calmed down realizing it was just a nightmare and I’m safe. Which brings me to the present hot chocolate in one hand typing this story sitting at my desk lights off except for my laptop screen with the other. The rain has slacked up lightning strikes about every 15 minutes . Matter of fact it should be striking any time from now. That hot chocolate was delic- what the hell? I just noticed these deep gashes going up my arm as I say my cup down. I don’t know how I didn’t feel them they like pretty bad. They were covered in dry blood so obviously it happened at least an hour ago but I’d been in bed…dread and fear is what just washed over me. No it couldn’t possibly be…it’s just a coincidence I tried to convince myself. But that disappeared a second later when a strike of lightning quickly flashed a familiar looking shadow if I’d have blinked I would’ve missed it. I shake my head laughing at myself for letting a silly Nightmare get to me like that none of that would ever happen in real life lol there’s no such things. Alrighty people gotta end the story here I need to search for roof repair companies and windows my roof is currently dripping rain droplets on top of my head and I can feel the warm howling wind on the back of my neck thanks to my cracked window it sounds so funny almost like a low growl…

The Bottle

y6lqe6

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y6lqe6/the_bottle/

​ As I sit here now beside my pond and watch the autumn fog dance along the water, and as the leaves whisper and chatter to one another as the wind lets them, I think of my wife, and how sorry I am I can’t live the rest of my days here like she wanted. On our little 12-acre farm. Our little quiet heaven, or at least that’s what it was supposed to be. But the land holds secrets. I know now, without a lingering question in my heart, that Hell exists. I wish that gave me comfort because that means that Diana is waiting for me at our next quiet little heaven, one that doesn’t mock the search for peace, but it doesn’t. Once the sun winks its red eye closed and retires for the evening I’ll be gone from this place. But there are two things I need to do first, and one of them is to write this down before I put it behind me forever. Although, a part deep inside of me, the part that can't be lied to, knows that the curtain will never close on me again no matter where I go. Knows that I’m forever and always awake. Cancer took her last year. She was thirty-seven. There are a million words in me I could say about losing her. The shock, the denial, the hope, the hope lost, and the twinkle in her eyes that was lost with it. The pain. Those nonsense last words. The last breath… She’s gone now. That’s all that matters. We’d bought a twelve-acre homestead in Southern Illinois to escape the city. The house had been built in 1898 as a colonial revival home and was more or less falling apart, but there was this secluded, rural charm about it. It sat on a strip of land several miles off of any main road, with fields used for harvesting corn nestling the house on either side, and behind it was a fenced-in pasture that shot back into the woods, which was perfect for our two horses. When we did the tour we sat on the porch and looked out at what might’ve been the most peaceful view we’d ever seen, with fields of wheat yawning and bowing in the wind like a sea of gold across from us. I could see in her eyes that she was in love, and so we made our minds up to make an offer right then and there. During the final walkthrough, the sellers had forgotten they’d changed the locks (they were going through what was apparently a rough divorce) and our agent had to call the estranged wife in to give us access to the home. She was amiable enough when she arrived and gave us a handful of apologies for not remembering to provide a new set of keys, but what struck me as odd, even then, was that she had seemed reluctant to step onto the property at all. She parked her car on the gravel road about one-hundred feet in front of the house and talked to us from there, and when she wasn't sure which key it was on her keychain to hand to us, she looked disquieted. She walked briskly to the house and fumbled with her keys and the deadbolt until she finally found the right one, and opened the door without walking in, pulling her hand away from the doorknob like it was something hot to the touch. She said something about needing to get some fresh air, told the agent to bring her keys after locking up, and then hurried back to her car. I thought there may have just been bad memories of the marriage that she didn’t want to revisit, or that she maybe felt awkward, or that she was intruding. It all makes sense now. We knew we had our work cut out for us from the beginning, and when we settled in it was one thing after another: leaking toilets, bad insulation, water damage — but we were happy. Diana got sick not long after, but I’m truly grateful for that short period of time when we would work on our old farmhouse, drink coffee and watch the sunrise from our front porch, taking in all of the life around us. After she passed, her sister took her horses as agreed, as well as our two dogs temporarily. It wasn’t my original plan but I was taking everything pretty hard and just needed to be alone for a while; just needed some quiet, which I didn't get anyway because of the damned wind, with its constant howling and moaning through the windows. My drinking was bad. There are large gaps in my memory, especially right after. I drank from the bottle like the evening’s watery haze would drink me in return, hoping it would dissolve me into nothing. One morning, I’d woken up to a massive hangover that felt like it couldn’t be cured by anything other than the sun and a walk, so I threw on some coveralls and went on into the woods behind the property. I’d known there was a stream or a creek of some kind that ran East through it, but the thorns and brush were so overgrown I couldn’t see through more than ten or so feet. There was a supposed path of some kind that led to the stream, and I thought if I could just push my way through enough, I’d eventually run into it. It only took me about five minutes until an overgrown - but - manageable clearing revealed itself and led me to the small stream, a steady flow of water running through it. It was only about six or so inches deep but had carved its own winding path deep into the dirt over the years. I followed, thinking I’d see the tracks of various animals nearby that came to drink from it, and I did. I continued on and in the water, I started seeing these broken fragments of bottles. They were old; very old; softened and smoothed by water and sediment and time. They were the kind of bottles you’d see on a movie set in some 19th-century period piece film, with deep brown and emerald glass with all of those gaudy, oblong angles, like some sort of snake oil elixir. There were just a few scattered fragments at first, but the further I trudged on, the more abundant the shards became until I came to the stream's watershed, and just beyond that was an opening in the ground that looked like some sort of den, big enough to walk in if I crouched. There must've been a dozen or so broken bottles in front of it. It was like someone had dumped them in a hurry all at once, or had drunk them in unison and then smashed them for some reason. Jutting out of the sand in the water, was a green bottle that seemed like it had remained intact over the years. It had two circular finger handles on either side of its neck and some kind of impressed label in the glass, but the letters were immersed and I couldn't make them out. I pulled it free and rinsed it in the water, and I was just able to make out the smoothed letters stamped into the glass: Arsenic. Bottles of poison... but why? Why here? And how had this been here all these years without being found or picked up by hunters or one of the previous owners? I reached into my pocket to take a picture of the whole scene with my phone but realized I had forgotten it. The hole bellowed at me as if commanding me to gaze into its swallowing darkness, and although I couldn't see anything, I felt I was being watched from within it. A coldness crawled up my spine. I shoved the bottle into the big front pocket of my coveralls and made my way back, not being able to help but check behind me several times along the way. When I got back to the house, I poured myself a neat glass of whiskey. It was still early in the afternoon, but hunting for little treasures on the land was something Diana had loved to do, and so the thought of coming across such a strange find made the antique arsenic bottle quite heavy in my pocket. I thought I'd lighten it with bourbon. I placed the old, green bottle on my coffee table and sat across from it on my couch, and I sipped my drink. I stared at it in my quiet, empty house, quiet save for the wind. I sipped again. It was so interesting. I thought deeply on how it got there; how it hadn't been found in -- well, I don't know. One hundred-thirty years, maybe more? I knew arsenic had been used in tonics and pesticides before they knew how deadly it was, but it just seemed such a strange place for them to be. I thought maybe the isolation and grief had made me paranoid. I sipped my drink again. I poured another glass, and then a few more. The room went orange as the low sun came through the glass and the wind howled through the poorly-sealed windows. The old poison bottle had entranced me, and in staring at it I'd lost track of time. Things went soft around the edges and the whiskey numbed my tongue, glass after glass, but I remember at some point I'd imagined it had comforted me; spoken to me with silent words. *Drink* it had said. *Drink it in.* And I did. It knew my pain and wanted it gone. I sunk into the bottle and faded with the evening. I awoke on the couch with a massive hangover, the bottle still staring. An empty one that had housed the whisky the night before now rested beside it. I fumbled around in the medicine cabinet for some spare aspirin and forced them down with some water from the sink, and went to the front porch to sit in my favorite chair and catch some crisp morning air. When I stepped outside, I noticed that the chair had been turned around, toward the windows, facing right into my living room where I had slept the night before. It had been pulled close to the glass, almost like whoever was sitting in it wanted to be as close as possible to get a better view of the inside. It had to have been me, I'd thought. But why the hell would I do that? The wind had been howling and was known to blow things around, sometimes clear into the yard, but this chair was made out of cured oak and weighed thirty, maybe forty pounds. It didn't seem likely to have moved it. This heavy, floral smell clung to the wood, like some sort of gaudy lavender perfume you'd find buried in some box in your grandmother's basement. Not thinking of the absurdity of it, I went back inside and sniffed the mouth of the old bottle. Nothing but the remnant smell of water. The pain from the hangover pulled the turned chair to the back of my mind. I had been in a drunken stupor and could've fumbled around out there, doing God knows what. I only managed to make it a few hours before heading to the liquor store to grab another bottle. I sat back on my couch, across from the old green bottle and its drained companion from the night before, and I drank in silence, just like it wanted me to. Sometime during the night, maybe eleven or so but It's hard to say, I was very drunk, I was browsing my phone from my couch, and three soft knocks tapped at my door. I didn't see any car lights come down the gravel road that ran adjacent to my house. Maybe one of the neighbors needed something, I'd thought. For reasons I can't quite comprehend, I offered a consulting glance at the bottle on the table. It told me to answer in its wordless way, and I listened. I got up and went for the door, flipping the light switch to the porch on and remembering there had been a short in the wires from mice or something. I opened it. There stood a thin young woman, faintly bathed in what little light the only lamp in the living offered. It was hard to make out her features, but she looked like she might have been in her early to mid-twenties. Her hair was long and looked like it could’ve been a light brown, draping halfway down her back. She wore this white embroidered nightgown that might have been beautiful, except even in the timid light I could see dirt on it in several places. The shadows hid much of her face, but even then she looked pallid, her eyes bringing about this astounded look on her face as if she were confused or lost. I stood there with my drink in my hand, unsure of what to say or how to address such a strange and unexpected visitation in the middle of the night. She said that she was sorry for disturbing me, but that she was looking for her dog. She said she lived about a mile down the road and had been hearing prairie wolves the past few nights, and her dog had run off into the woods and was nowhere to be found. She said she was getting very worried they might have tricked him into chasing after them. I told her I hadn't seen or heard of any coyotes and then asked her about the dog. She said he was a collie and his name was Copper. I looked down and noticed she didn't have any shoes on and her feet were covered in mud. "Did... you go running through the woods in a gown without shoes on to look for him?" I asked her. She glanced down and studied her muddied feet with that same surprised look and said nothing. I thought maybe she was drunk or medicated, but she looked harmless and the whiskey had always made me well-disposed. I told her to wait a moment and I'd go get a towel so she could wipe her feet off and could come inside and warm up for a moment. Then, we'd take a spotlight to go looking for him. As I reached to close the door handle and grab a towel, I noticed her eyes, so dazed and cloudy and confused before, now sprung alive in the dark with a distilled intensity, focusing in on the green arsenic bottle that sat on my coffee table. She took a single, eager step toward it, stopping just before my doorway. I held my hand out to halt her, a little startled by the approach but still attempting to be polite. She gave a sheepish grin and shook her head, "I'm deeply sorry. The cold has made me too eager for warmth this evening," she said. It was so fast I could've easily missed it, but as she smiled I noticed the inside of her upper lip stuck to her teeth, lagging on one side before breaking free as if her mouth had been exceptionally dry. The flesh of her lips looked -- harder than usual; stiffer, thin slivers of her dark gums revealing themselves. The whiskey had dulled my senses, but when she stepped in closer, I also noticed a lavender perfume smell on her and thought of the chair outside. She could've just been dehydrated for all I knew, but the whole thing just felt off; felt wrong. I closed the door and caught her glance at the bottle with that same look again, unable to will her eyes from peering at it. I stood there for a moment, hand still on the doorknob, and then flicked the deadbolt locked with careful fingers. I thought about calling the police at that instant. It was weird, sure, but I'd ran out after our dogs half-dressed, with no shoes on before when they chased deer or a passing car or something, so it wasn't unthinkable. But that smell. There was no mistaking it. Behind me, I could feel the bottle was displeased. *Let her in.* I shook my head at it and then downed the rest of my drink. "No." "Pardon?" I could hear her say from the other side of the door. "Actually, I'm very sorry, but it's late. I can call someone for you if you like. I'll keep an eye out for Copper and will take him to your house if he turns up. Which house did you say it was down the road again?" There was a pause that felt like an eternity. "Oh," she said, finally, not answering my question. "That's a shame." She sounded disappointed. Not angry or insulted, just let down. I opened my mouth to apologize again, but the words never managed to crawl out of it. The lamp's dim light didn't reach far enough to illuminate the porch through the windows, but in the darkness, I thought I could see the silhouette of a head tilt its way into view from the side of the windows the front door had been butted up against. The soft creaks of graceful bare feet on wooden steps groaned as she left the porch and she walked into the night without saying another word. I grabbed my nine-millimeter and made my way around the other doors to double-check the locks. My mind was reeling; trying to process what had just happened. "Prarie wolves..." I said to myself as I poured more bourbon into my glass. Who calls them that these days?" A part of me felt guilty. Maybe I'd just sent a poor girl with a missing dog back into the cold, but her mouth; that perfumed smell on her that saturated my chair the night before; how she looked at the green bottle on my table. My heart pounded in my chest. I didn't think she could pose any real physical threat to me, but I felt uneasy. Un-alone. I took another drink from the glass. I pulled my phone out to call the police, trying my best to stay out of the line of sight of the front windows. Although I'd heard her walk off moments earlier, I couldn't help but feel naked through the glass. I got ready to dial the local station's number, but the old green bottle beckoned me over to it. *Drink* it had said. And I did. I thumbed my phone back into my pocket and sunk back into the couch, and drank myself into an empty void. Three empty bottles greeted me from the table in the morning, the newest member laying on its side. I was on the floor. Even with the throbbing headache, I thought of the strange woman, and how I managed to get drunk instead of calling the police. I looked around. The house was trashed. I hadn't cleaned it in weeks; hadn't even swept up the clumps of dog hair that accumulated in the corners of the rooms and under the furniture from months before. And now my drinking had gotten so bad, I couldn't even manage to call the police before blacking out. Diana would've been heartbroken if she'd seen this. She hated my drinking. I let shame hit me like a puff of heavy smoke, and then I called the sheriff. As I dialed I could still feel that green arsenic bottle pulling my gaze toward it, weighing the room down from that coffee table and anchoring everything in place, drawing me in like a dancing fire in the dark. The sheriff came by not long after and I told her what had happened the night before; that a strange young woman was knocking on my door in the middle of the night but hadn't actually done anything illegal that I could be sure of, but that she might have been trespassing on my property the previous night and might have been on drugs. I told the sheriff where the woman said she came from and asked her if she knew any of the homes along the road the woman had described to me. She said there was only one within a few miles on that particular stretch, but the house had been condemned twenty or so years. She said drugs had gotten pretty bad in the neighboring town, and it was possible the problem had made its way to the more rural parts of the area. She told me she would ask around in the area to see if any of the other homes experienced anything similar and then offered to check in throughout the night. I told her it wasn't necessary and that I had plenty of guns in the house to protect myself with if it came to that. After the sheriff left, I uncorked my bottle and poured a glass. I just needed to take the edge off. When I looked over at the coffee table I noticed the antique bottle was gone. Panicked, I searched the house for it for fifteen or so minutes before I realized I'd put it in my coat pocket before the sheriff came by earlier, just to keep it close. A few hours later, as the sun was going down, I went around back near the gated strip that led to our pond and pasture that was butted up against the woods, where Diana's horses used to be. There had been some equipment I'd left out there for weeks and there was supposed to be a storm coming that evening, and so I’d wanted to move everything into the barn. When I got back to the gate I noticed it had been opened, which was something I never did, even with the horses gone. In the fading light, I made out... footprints, along a thin beaten path that ran through the center of the strip where the horses used to walk up to get feed. Bare footprints, from small bare feet. She had walked through the woods, through the pasture to come knocking on my door. I thought I could make out at least two sets going both toward the house and then back down the path again, but with overcast blocking the moon and stars it was getting hard to see anything. I followed the footprints two hundred or so yards until I could see them cut down into the pasture and to the gate that led into the woods. It had also been left open. I reached for the old green bottle for comfort and realized I'd left it in the house. I needed my gun. I needed my gun and I needed to call the sheriff, and I needed that god damned bottle. I began making my way back to the house when I saw the woman, walking past the pond and the mausoleum where Diana rested, and heading toward the house. She would've been impossible to make out in the dark if it weren't for that white gown. I yelled out to her and started running before tripping over some broken wire fencing that was on the ground. She either ignored me or couldn't hear my voice through the rustling corn, which had begun to move with the wind from the oncoming storm. I was just too far away from her. She made her way to the house with this calm grace and then went around it to the front. I realized my gun had been on my table, in plain sight, and I hadn't locked my door. I'd been drinking until I was numb, just like that fucking bottle had told me to; made myself careless and stupid. There were hammers and a machete in the barn, but it was in the opposite direction and by the time I grabbed one of them she could easily have been inside the house for a minute, maybe more. The best thing I could find on the way was a little trench shovel in the garden. I grabbed it. When I got around to the front of the house, the door had been cracked half-open. She’d gone inside. The wind blew harder and began its howling, now carrying cold pellets of rain that stung as they hit my face. My legs didn't want to approach the house, but slowly, I did, that middle step to the porch creaking the loudest it ever had, even in the wind and the rain. I pushed the door open further with the tip of the shovel. The whiskey bottles that had made themselves so comfortable next to the old green poison bottle were scattered about the floor, the green bottle gone. The gun was still sitting there, untouched. I grabbed it. I looked around for my phone but didn't see it in sight. I could hear her walking around upstairs, in what sounded like Diana's office. I aimed my gun into the darkness toward the top of the stairs and yelled out to her: "Come out of there! I'll fucking shoot you if I have to." The creaking floorboards stopped for a moment, and then she walked out onto the landing; an obscure phantom in the dark, except for the faint lunar glow of her gown; except for the whites in her confounded eyes. She had the bottle in her hands and she seemed to be crying. Her hands were shaking. "... Don't drop it," I said lowly; eagerly. She tilted the bottle up above her head and stuck her tongue in the opening of its neck, desperate for something that hadn't been inside of it for well over a century. Her tongue made this squelching noise as she did it, as if it were much, much too dry. She gave me a distraught look and cried harder. The wind moaned through the windows; through the darkness of the house. I'd never felt more alone in my life. "Why isn't it working, Elijah?" She asked me from the top of the stairs. I didn't know what to say, nor did I have any clue who Elijah was. The woman had clearly lost her mind. I had to make sure she put the bottle down before she broke it. "Come on down. We'll just talk about it." She cradled the bottle tighter, taking slow steps down the staircase and stopping at its base. "It didn't work for me," she said in the dark, sobbing as the words left her. I lowered my gun and reached for the lamp on the island in the kitchen near the foot of the stairs, and for the first time, I truly saw her. She wasn't much more than an emaciated skeleton. Her skin was hardened and yellowed and pulled tight to her. She looked... she looked not much different than Diana did on her hospice bed just before the end. No doubt If I would've left her in her bed a few days after she'd passed away, they would've been hard to tell apart. I should've been terrified and a part of me was, but she looked so helpless; so pitiful, like a child holding a teddy bear. This overwhelming sensation of sadness filled me. "Why did it work for you and not me, Elijah?" She asked me again. I set my gun on the table. I thought for a moment about whether or not to correct her on who I was, and decided it didn't feel like it was the right thing to do. I asked her what she meant. Her eyes sobered like she realized I wasn't whoever this person was for a moment, and then she retreated. "It calls to me, but why am I still here and you're not?" I didn't respond, but I felt her words. I'd felt them in me every day since Diana had gone. "And the others?" She asked I began crying with her. "I'm so sorry." At this, she regarded me, then winced with a tender pain and looked away. She tried drinking from the bottle again in vain. I reached out and touched her arm gently to stop her. Her skin was cold and hard. She sobered her gaze once more, and for a moment the faintest smile rose on her face, and then she retreated again for the last time, into whatever life she had known when she was still alive. I guided her gently to the door, her bottle still cradled close to her, and stood in the doorway as she left. I wanted to hold onto it more than anything, but it didn't belong to me. I asked her, "Was there ever even a Copper at all?" "Have you seen him?" She asked. I shook my head. She turned and moved around the house. I walked into the yard and to the side and watched her go on, back through the pasture and into the woods, the rain and the wind blowing her hair and gown like wild rags. She never looked back once. And then she was gone. The next few days I did a deep dive into county records, trying to find anyone that ever owned a home in the area named Elijah, but nothing turned up. It was as if she - and whoever Elijah was - never existed at all. I don't know exactly what happened to her, but I feel like she was warning me in the only way she was capable, to avoid whatever Hell she had found herself in. Every day I fight the urge to go back into those woods and see if that bottle is back where I found it. I catch myself walking towards the trees that lead to the stream; to that hole, and inevitably to that bottle. But I don't dare go in. She'd no doubt come looking to reclaim it, like she's likely done many times before. And if she didn’t, I don't think I'll be strong enough to part with it again. Which is why I'm writing this. I said that I have two things to do before I leave, and writing this down had to come first so you might understand when the realtor tells you why there's an abandoned mausoleum near the pond in the back pasture. I can't let Diana stay here. I'm taking her with me and reburying her closer to our hometown, near the place we first met. Someday, I'll revisit that place in the woods and see if I can do something; anything for the woman, but I'm not strong enough to face it. Not yet. Even now, I can feel the pull of that bottle out in the stream, begging me to come back and take it. And even as I write this, I can feel I'm being watched from the treeline, and I'm getting this feeling that it isn't her this time.

I'm A Rookie Deputy Working On A Long Dark Highway. (Part 3)

y6at51

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y6at51/im_a_rookie_deputy_working_on_a_long_dark_highway/

(First: https://redd.it/xt53az Previous: https://redd.it/y0tc7w) I’d finished my book of crossword puzzles faster than expected. I didn’t have time to get a new book for my next shift meaning I would be very bored at night. I met up with Rusty and he shoved a bundle of books into my chest. I looked them over finding them to be some old word search books. Some with pages torn out, or puzzles already finished. I wanted to point out those facts but knew Rusty would give me some attitude if I brought it up. I think he rescued the books from a recycling bin from somewhere. At least I had something to do. I didn’t really have a chance to look at the books. For once we were a bit busy on that long stretch of highway actually doing our jobs. There were a few drunk drivers and people speeding. We found out some sort of bonfire party was happening and that’s where all the trouble came from. Sure enough, a call came in for a large loud gathering of underage kids drinking. We needed to wait on a few other police to help break up the party. I don’t want to spoil anyone’s fun but this party got dangerous and stupid. The teens created a fire too large that nearly burned down the woods if we hadn’t gotten the call when we did. The tower of flames scorched some of the nearby leaves and I thought it was a miracle nothing been burned down before we got there. The morons were also putting spray paint cans in the flames which could have killed someone. Besides a few drunk and scared kids who to threw some punches, we didn’t bother arresting anyone for the underage drinking. We just made sure they were collected by their parents or a sober driver. The fire department had been called already. The firemen got right to work to put out the bonfire, cursing the ones who thought it was a good idea to start one in the middle of the woods. It was one of the more exciting shifts, but in a normal sense. I expected this sort of thing when I signed up for this job and not monsters in the woods. On the way back for the night we drove down the highway, our clothing smelling of smoke. I got started on notes for our reports so I didn’t notice what Rusty saw along the road until he started to pull over. I looked up to see a car just sitting abandoned. It was morning but we still had a few hours before the sun rose. The car sat empty; all doors open but no lights on. Rusty got out and I followed him wondering if someone just got into car trouble, or this was a dumped stolen car. Rusty was tense. His hand hovering over his gun and I did the same unsure of what to expect. I followed behind him and got out my flashlight to see the car better. Strange things happened on this long stretch of highway. I’d already experienced two weird nights but Rusty said supernatural things didn’t happen often. I must be lucky that I already seen so much in such a short time being on the force. I stopped beside the backseat of the car and shone my flashlight inside. The inside dirty and the seat torn in one spot. This had to be someone dumping a stolen car. If it wasn’t stolen then the owner would have brought it into be recycled. Metal prices around here was worth the cost of towing the car. Most people needed the money so even if they only got thirty bucks after paying for the towing, they would put in the effort to bring it to the scrap yard. Why waste the time getting it all the way out here if it wasn’t stolen? “Should we call for a tow?” I asked Rusty. I didn’t dare touch the car and just kept looking it over. The thing looked like it sat outside for a while. Some rust starting around the wheels and a bird's nest stuck in the empty back tail light. “Get back to our car.” Rusty hissed in a low voice I’ve never heard from him before. I froze not understanding what made him suddenly so upset. He was looking off into the overgrown field on the side of the road, his flashlight catching something in the dark. A shape moved in the grass and I moved a few steps closer to our car. I jumped in fear when a dark form jumped into the road. Here I was hoping I wouldn’t come across anything strange for a while. I stared at the monster, unsure of what I was seeing. The thing looked far too pointed to be anything natural. It was almost like a pitch-black wolf and yet... wrong. The snout long and came to a sharp point, along with the ears. The body of spiky rough fur being supported on legs became pencil thin and the paws weren’t there. Just small needle thin points sticking into the ground. The tail long and flowing also ending in a sharp point. The face turned towards my own, the red eyes almost an expressive as a human’s. “You get head start. Run.” The monster spoke in a voice much like a wheezing laugh. I looked at Rusty to catch his eyes. There was more of these creatures in the fields and we couldn’t take them all. Could we get past this one to get to our car? Rusty aimed his sidearm and fired. The thing jumped around in the road laughing at us. No matter how hard Rusty tried to hit this monster, it was too fast. I considered our options. Run and get eaten, or try for the car and get eaten. Then another option came to us. One I didn’t want to take but might be the only way to get out of this alive. Well, not alive but maybe end in a death that wasn’t being eaten but these wrongly shaped wolves. A pale white hand waved at us from behind the trees in the forest. I knew it belonged to the monster of the forest I’ve come across before. I didn’t want to deal with that thing either. A wolf came forwards and tore off a piece of Rusty’s sleeves and gave him a minor cut. We didn’t have a choice but to run. I rushed around the old car and grabbed my partner by the back of the shirt. He wasn’t easy to get moving. More of those wolves came from the grass, drool dripping down from their sharp mouths, catching the light of the moon. Soon Rusty was the one dragging me alone and into the woods. Those creatures hot on our trail, laughing the entire time. Black shapes darted through the trees. I heard them jumping around behind us, slamming into the bark causing leaves and small branches to fall down. We ran hard and for someone his size, Rusty kept up pretty well. My chest ached wanting a break. The laughing coming from behind us kept me going. In sheer fear I pressed on convinced the moment we stopped; we were dead. My partner snagged a branch and faltered for a second. That was all it took. One of those dark wolves came down from the trees and onto of Rusty, knocking him to the ground. I shouted and drew my gun. I fired shots into the monster at such a close range I knew I hit it even in the dark. The monster looked up and met my eyes with dark red ones. A grin came over its point face that caused the eyes to nearly close in glee. It let out a long loud laugh and jumped away. I didn’t know if these things were playing or really wanted to kill us. Might as well be both. I got down to help Rusty and see what the wolf did to him in the few seconds of attacking. His back covered in cuts and I winced seeing a large puncture wound on his shoulder. I grabbed his good arm and put it over my shoulder, half dragging the larger man along into a clearing. Rusty made an effort to stand up. I faced my back on him and he did the same, trying for us to be able to cover each other’s blind spots. My hands trembled slightly listening to that never ending laughter out of the woods. Red eyes moved in the dark, their voices mocking us. We needed to do something. I doubted my gun would be enough to kill one of these monsters let alone a pack of them after one literally laughed off a few bullets. A wolf got brave and darted into the clearing. I acted too slow. These bastards far too fast for me to react. The wolf grabbed Rusty by the leg and he fell to the ground. But he also pressed a gun to the thing’s forehead and fired which was impressive of him. The wolf backed off, spraying black blood and laughing the entire time it ran back into the woods. “What the hell are these things?” I questioned nearly out of breath. I got down low trying to see the damage the sharp teeth did to my partner’s leg. His ankle was bleeding pretty badly. “No idea. They're not from around here.” Rusty replied, sounding awful. I started to think we weren’t going to get out of here alive. My thoughts were almost confirmed by another wolf coming in. I fired and it did nothing. The thing reached my injured partner, pushing him back to the ground hard enough to knock him out. I jumped on the monster, arms wrapped around its neck and spiky fur jabbing into my body. It yelped in shock and started to buck trying to get me off. I held on fast, legs flailing. I needed to wrap them around the thin body to stay on. It ran around in circles, no longer laughing but the others in the trees did. The bunch never saw anything so funny. As long as I kept this thing from eating Rusty and kept the other amused, I was fine with them cackling. My arms burning from the effort of holding the beast but I refused to let go. It even rolled on its back a few times, jabbing sharp rocks and twigs through my uniform. This sucked but better than getting eaten. I didn’t have a clue how long it took for my strength to give out and for my body to finally get tossed off and very painfully against a tree. The wolf shook itself and started to head towards Rusty again. I shouted at it to stop but not recovered enough to stand just yet. “We not eat you! Only half-breed flesh tonight!” The wolf snapped back, looking a little worn out from running around with me on its back. Half-breed? What was he talking about? I looked from him and Rusty trying to figure it out. My partner looked pretty normal. Dirty brown hair and light skin. I didn’t think he had anything but white toast DNA in him. Was this monster talking about something not human being a part of my trusted partner? I got to my feet ready to defend Rusty again. The wolf also put up its guard, apparently not wanting to go through trying to get me off his back again. I nearly screamed when a soft fingertip touched my back from behind. A long pale hand reached around a tree holding a circle made of white twigs twisted together. I looked at it confused. The hand used a finger to point over to the wolf while still holding onto the twigs. It opened its hand and I caught it before the circle dropped to the ground. I held onto the thing made of twigs thinking it was useless. The wolf froze in its tracks and the laughing stopped in the woods. “What... you have?” The beast asked sounding worried. I took a step forward and it took a step back. My heart going crazy in my chest from fear and I refused to let it show after I somehow gained an upper hand. Faces of the other wolves came closer through the leaves and bushes, all very interested in what might happen in the next few seconds. “We not hungry. Just a oops. Us leave. Fun over. Ok? You-” I jumped forwards, circle in hand and the wolf let out and anguished cry. Bu some miracle I caught it before it ran and got a grip on it. I forced the collar made of branches around the monster’s neck listening to a horrible howling sound coming from it. I hated the sound. I was as if I was kicking a poor dog. Once the collar was in place the beast tensed up like a statue. Slowly it tipped over, falling to the ground, legs stiff. I reminded me of a cat after you put a sweater on it. I stood, breathing hard waiting for the wolf to do something. Soon the legs started to move, making it kick around in a circle in the dirt. It almost looked funny in a pathetic way. The sun started to rise over the trees making the other wolves to scatter. Each going off with a weird laugh as if they were just as confused as I felt leaving the scene behind. The one with the new collar finally got up and bolted, running into a tree or two as it fled. That was weird. Really weird. I didn’t have time to worry about what just happened. I needed to get Rusty out of the woods. I carefully woke him up and helped him to his feet. In the grey morning light, his wounds looked better than I thought they were before. We hobbled through the woods completely lost. A hand came from behind the trees and I started towards it. Rusty pulled back but I pushed him forwards. This time the hands helped me out. At least I thought so. I didn’t know what that collar did or if the wolves left because the sun started to come up. I followed the hands and they guided got us to the road nearby our parked car. I watched some dark shapes in the over grown field pushing the car that made us stop in the first place with their sleek pointed bodies. In the last shadows of the night, they disappeared along with the old worn-out car. Those wolves taking the prop they used to lure in victims with them. I gave one glance back towards the woods and saw a single hand peeking out from a tree. It must have noticed my gaze and gave a thumbs up, which I returned behind Rusty’s back. I didn’t know why the creature of the forest helped this time around. Things that lurked in the night sure are fickle. I got my partner home but he refused to make a report about his injuries or go to the hospital. He really didn’t look all that bad considering, so I left him alone to go home, unable to sleep from being so wired after the previous night's events. I treated my own cuts and bruises then made an attempt to rest. I gave up around dinner time only getting a few hours of sleep. I knocked on Rusty’s door making him regret the fact I knew where he lived. I’d bought some pizzas with me thinking it might put him in a better mood. He took them from my hands and considered slamming the door on my face. We sat on his front porch and I kept a close eye on him seeing how badly he was hurt. I wanted to bring up something. He must have known and refused to speak until I did. “Uh so... one of those things last night called you something weird...” I said, feeling just as scared digging around in my partner’s personal life as I did while defending him from wolves. “A half-breed?” He asked, not skipping a beat. “Yeah... That.” I replied not sure what else to say. He let out an annoyed noise that nearly made me run down the front porch. He didn’t want to tell me this and I really didn’t have any right knowing something so personal. “My mother wasn’t human but my father was. I have no idea what she was, and left pretty soon after I was born. Aside from healing up pretty fast I don’t have anything special powers from her.” He explained. Well, at least I now knew I didn’t have a cool partner with supernatural powers to fight creatures of the night. That sounded fun in theory but after the few encounters I didn’t want to deal with any monsters again. Half or otherwise. “Why did the woods help us out last night?” He asked and I shook my head. “No idea. I hoped you knew. I’m guessing whatever is in those woods wants to kill me with its own two hands. Or it has a crush on me.” I added the last part as a joke. Rusty nodded and I wanted to scream. He should not have agreed with me with that last statement. I might be alright making friends with a forest monster but how would anyone even go about dating such a thing, even if they were interested? No, that thing needed to want to kill me. The other alternative frightened me too much. After I knew my partner was going to be alright for tonight’s shift, I left ready to see him a few hours. He warned me to stay away from the woods and I still had time to request a transfer. I wondered if I really could do that. It already felt too late for me to leave this town behind, creatures and all. I arrived back to my apartment, keys in hand and wanting to get some more sleep before work. A shape by my door made me stop in my tracks. Something dark black sat outside my apartment. I wasn’t the same shape as the wolves last night or big enough to be one. I thought someone’s dog got out. I carefully walked over to it, the black dog raising its head. I reached down to check the collar for a tag to find nothing. The collar feeling old and worn, the edges frayed along the sides. Bringing a strange dog inside your place wasn’t really a good idea. But I didn’t want it running off before I got animal control over to bring it to a shelter. I opened my apartment door and the dog walked right inside as if it owned the place. It walked over to the couch, sitting down in seconds of coming inside. We both stared as each other as if it expected me to say something. I looked it over trying to figure out the breed. It looked like a type of husky, but black and with shorter fur. It must be some sort of mut with all these weird features. The mouth opened showing off perfect white teeth. “Are you hungry?” I asked it, not expecting and answer. “What you have?” The dog answered back. I jumped back against my front door, face drained of color and dropping my phone in the process. My mouth too dry to speak. It took me a few seconds to recover enough to find any words. “You just...” I started then it sank in. This dog sounded like the black wolf from the night before. “You put collar on me. I am in service of you. First, we eat. What you have?” It asked again, teeth showing. God damn it. I didn’t have time for a dog, let alone whatever this thing was. “I don’t suppose if I take off that collar, you’ll just leave...?” I suggested. “No. I eat you.” Well, I’ll need to figure something else out. I didn’t really have much at my place so the dog needed to wait until I came back with some roasted chickens from the grocery store nearby. At least they had deals on buying two of them. I even looked up to make sure the spices on which chickens were dog friendly. I got back and my new pet wasted no time eating two whole chickens, bones and all. I patted his back as he ate, warning him to rest afterwards. I heard dogs or other animals can really mess up their stomachs if they ate too fast and then ran around after. Maybe that wasn’t true but I didn’t want to risk hurting my pet so soon after getting him, unwanted or not. I didn’t want to leave him alone for the night while I went to work but didn’t have anyone to call over to watch over my talking new pet. I put on the T.V and that seemed to make him happy. His short attention span made a children’s channel the best for him. I got ready for work and adjusted his collar making sure it wasn’t too tight. At least with a talking pet you can ask him if he needed to use the washroom. I left him alone wondering what kind of mess I might walk into when I got off work. I think the monster of the woods knew what it was doing. I mean, why kill or eat someone when you can make them suffer by forcing them to take care of a new supernatural dog? Rusty noticed my mood when I got into work and decided I didn’t want to tell him about the dog right then. I needed to introduce him to the monster that almost ate him in a tactful way. I dreaded that almost as much as any new creatures we may come across on our job.

I need HELP. My husband is being a complete gentleman, and I think I'm in GRAVE danger.

y60eno

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y60eno/i_need_help_my_husband_is_being_a_complete/

The title says it all. Before I explain, just know that I understand you’re going to judge me and I’m really not here for it. I know I’m an asshole. I know what I did was wrong, believe me, so I’m not posting here to be chastised by a bunch of holier-than-thou internet folks who’ve neeeeever done anything wrong in their lives. No, I’m here because I’m freaking the FUCK out, and I need advice ASAP in what may genuinely be a situation of life or death. First off, I *loved* my husband. Truly, I did. I can practically hear you all scoffing as you read this, but regardless of what you think about what I did it is how I feel. My…*infidelity* had nothing to do with him, and everything to do with my own selfishness. I missed that excitement I felt in the early days of our relationship. I want to preface this by saying Aaron (that’s what we’ll call him) had always been an absolute sweetheart, and even after my colossal fuck up, I was still convinced that he was my soulmate. *That* is what makes the present dilemma as difficult as it is, why my mind has been twisting itself into knots like a snake, trying to determine what I need to do. I **know** in my heart of hearts, that Aaron would never hurt me, **could** never hurt me. He’s always handled me with so delicate a hand, you’d think I was breakable, and I could barely recall even an argument in which his voice had raised, and yet… I can’t shake the fear that the love of my life might be planning to kill me. Things had grown distant between Aaron and I in the previous few months. His work at a cybersecurity firm had been swallowing up much of his time, and what little I did get with him was often relegated to eating or sleeping, despite his best attempts. One thing led to another, and I let myself get a bit too close with Brandon; an old friend from college, who I’d been casually corresponding with on Facebook for a while. He’d been making his advances less and less subtle. What started as mild flirty texts, scratching that itch for excitement I’d felt like I’d lost with Aaron, quickly became less fulfilling, until it escalated into pictures, those pictures intensifying into videos and promises, which soon led to action. It seemed like before I could really get a handle on what exactly I was doing, I was engaged in a full-fledged affair right under Aaron’s nose. I - I meant to end things, truly, I did. I spent the night after my first secret meeting with Brandon just *wracked* with guilt, every kiss on the forehead or kind word from Aaron made thorny vines of regret squeeze tighter around my heart. I wish I could say that was the end of it. Dear God, I know I'm an awful person, I know I should have taken it as a sign to stop. However, if anything I did the opposite. Instead I Dulled the pain of my own betrayal, with the momentary pleasure that those secret moments offered, the wrongness of it all only adding to the intrigue. It wasn't until a month later, this week to be exact, that it all came to an abrupt end. As much as I regret to admit it, through no choice of my own. Now, I'm here, writing this on my phone with shaking hands while my husband cooks us dinner downstairs, singing cheerily to himself. The heavy aroma of meat being cooked wafts up the stairs, sweet and savory, and I’ve never been more terrified of what might become of me. … 'I can't wait to see you again tomorrow. To hold you again, it's all I've been able to think of.' I bit my lip, stifling the smile I felt rising in me as I read the text. I swallowed hard, my face running hot, coughing and rubbing my palms over it to hide the blush I knew must be visible. "You seem happy tonight. What's up?" I met Aaron's gaze from across the table, breaking it just as quickly as guilt blossomed in place of that secretive excitement. He grinned up at me, spinning a forkful of the pasta he'd brought home for dinner. I stifled a frown, a twinge of sad sort of pain in my heart at his expression. He was as adorable as ever, big brown eyes looking back at me with that childish sort of adoration he'd always had with me, his carefree grin despite the lines of age and exhaustion from work had slowly begun etching in his features. "Nothing I just -" my mind scrambled for an adequate response, something that would pacify him enough to prevent any more questions. "I'm happy you're home. Always am." I smiled, reaching across the table and placing one of my hands atop his for good measure. His eyes lit up, grin growing into a full-blown smile as he raised it to plant a kiss. *'How can you do this to him?*' The thought rang so loud in my mind I was almost sure he could hear it. *You're a terrible person. He doesn't deserve -* The gentle buzz of my phone sent pins and needles rippling atop my skin like a tidal wave, my heart tingled with a nervous, yet intoxicating sort of excitement. I found myself searching for an excuse to step away from the table, my stomach churning with a regrettable longing. Aaron's smirk wavered but was back in place as soon as it had fallen. Still, in that brief instant, I wondered if I hadn't seen a momentary glimpse of something else. I felt a brief sense of trepidation at the thought, but it was dashed by another jolt of my nerves as the phone buzzed yet again. "Gotta run to the bathroom," I said, as I pulled away from the table. He nodded briefly, chuckling. “’Have fun, love. I’ll l pour you another glass.” His eyes followed me as I made my way to the hall. "Jess," the sound of my name halted me in my tracks, heart beating with anticipation, hand almost tingling to grab for my phone. "I know things haven't been…perfect lately, what with the new job and everything, and maybe I've been slacking a bit.I can tell you've been feeling that… " His voice wavered, the emotion he seemed to be trying to restrain momentarily bubbling to the surface. I felt my own spinning into a quiet maelstrom just beneath the surface. He was right of course, hell, he was only stating a realization I'd had months prior. I suppose I ought to offer some background on how we got here. Aaron and I have been together for seven years and married for three wonderful years out of those. We met our sophomore year of college in a physics class we both shared, and to hear him tell it, he was smitten from the moment we were assigned to work on that project together. It took me a liiiitle bit longer to see the connection, but the two of us grew close over the course of that year, and eventually, I fell head over heels. From the earliest days of our relationship, it was obvious he was the rare sort of college guy who actually listened when I spoke, often surprising me with little gifts or dates that correspond with things or interests I’d shared with him. He was attentive and gentle, the sort of person who moved the spider outside rather than squashing it, and he was the first guy I’d dealt with who seemed not to complain that I was “too self-absorbed” or “didn’t seem to care about him as a person” or any of that nonsense. I say all this to reiterate just how much I knew then, and have known all this time, I found a gem. But, like all relationships, with time - things began to shift. He had begun work at a new tech startup, working long hours in cyber security that kept him away from home and left him drained during the hours he was present. He kept up with his share of the duties around the house, even maintaining much of the cooking for us, but it was *different*. Things began to die down at an alarming rate, and before long I felt like our love life had already aged decades. I suppose that’s where my selfishness played a role. I guess I had become accustomed to a certain level of romantic attention, and as the months rolled by, with far less attention being paid to me by Aaron, I began to feel dissatisfied in my relationship. This is when I made the mistake made by so many others, and sought out the nearest replacement; letting myself get a bit too close with Brandon, an old friend from college. We'd been casually corresponding on Facebook for a while, and he had been making his advances less and less subtle until eventually, I reciprocated. What started as mild flirty texts, scratching that itch for excitement I’d felt like I’d lost with Aaron, quickly became less fulfilling, until it escalated into pictures, those pictures intensifying into videos and promises, which soon led to action. It seemed like before I could really get a handle on what exactly I was doing, I was engaged in a full-fledged affair right under Aaron’s nose. It didn't change how I felt about him, truly, and at the moment, my insides burned with regret. His eyes met mine, and it took everything I had not to look away. "But I love you... and I'm gonna make sure to remind you of it more." I could only manage a nod before turning and hurrying to the bathroom, as the myriad of conflicting emotions battled towards the surface. I’d like to say I blocked Brandon the moment I entered the bathroom and broke down in silent sobbing. Instead, I responded in kind. ‘Miss you too. Can’t wait for tomorrow.’ I wish it was a lie, but the truth is I was feeling so guilty about my affair that it ironically was the only thing in life that still felt good. I sat on the lid of the toilet for a while, wondering just how I’d let things get so far, before running the water. I splashed a handful on my face, and as I stood before the mirror, I found my eyes staring anywhere but. I didn’t recognize the person looking back. The rest of the night passed by relatively normal. By the time I left the restroom, Aaron was cleaning up, and straightening the table. Despite the almost incredulous look he gave me, he said nothing. He threw something on the television, which I was utterly unable to focus on, my mind already on the day ahead. Had I been more attentive, perhaps I’d have noticed just how closely he was watching me. The way he was almost searching me for something like I was under examination. I would find out the very next day. … By the time I woke up, the alarm on my phone blared through the wisps of sleep as an unusual grogginess clung to me. I silently cursed each glass of wine I'd had the night prior. As I attempted to regain my faculties through a headache far too severe for three glasses of merlot, sunlight was streaming through the bedroom window, and I could hear Aaron moving about the room. It was ten, or little after. It would be a late start at work for Aaron today. He had told me that things at work would be easing up soon and that due to their hard work in the months prior, they were allowed to come in a few hours later. I couldn’t help but resent that it couldn’t have come months before. I heard him as he approached the side of the bed, my eyes still shut. I felt a kiss on my forehead. “After today, things will be different.” his voice was low, and while I knew his words ought to be comforting, they made guilt swirl about my gut. I could smell the familiar cologne wafting off of him. “I promise you and weI will go do something. I’ll take some time off and we can go somewhere, anywhere you want.” He told me, leaning over as I lay in bed, planting a parting kiss on my forehead. I hardly opened my eyes, only nodding my response with feigned grogginess, feeling far too guilty to respond knowing what I was planning to do that very day. Through the slits that were my eyelids, I could see him watching me. He stood at the end of the bed for what felt like an unusual amount of time, his eyes on me, expression something unreadable. For reasons I couldn’t understand, it made my skin crawl, and my heart rate quicken. *Does he know something?* I stayed frozen, suddenly feeling like a child who was unsure if they were on the verge of being in trouble, unwilling to open or close my eyes even a bit until he had left. After a few more seconds, he chuckled to himself, and shook his head, before turning and heading for the door. I didn’t open my eyes fully until I heard the garage door closing and his car pulling out of the driveway, my heart thudding so hard in my chest that I was sure it would have given me away. When I did finally get up, it took a few minutes for me to gather myself, a whole-new wave of anxiety gnawing at me, before I started to ready myself for the day ahead. I reached blindly across my nightstand letting my eyes shut again as I sighed with a mix of relief to be alone, and the ever-present anxiety at my overarching situation; feeling for my phone expecting my hand to brush across it at any second. As I felt my hand slide across the empty wood, there was a surge of realization like being submerged in ice water, a jolt rolling through my entire body. I shot up, immediately searching the table, hearing my heart thudding in my head. It sat neatly on the far corner of the table, still plugged in. I felt a cold dread beginning to knit itself into my very being. It was all too neat… I couldn’t remember for the life of me how I’d left it sitting the night before, but I was sure of one thing - it had been facing down. I stared at it for several seconds, as though it might change the reality, my distorted reflection stared back from the screen of my phone… “Fuck,” I breathed. “Fuckfuckfuck.” Every second that passed as I hurried to open the phone felt like I was moving closer to a heart attack. Nausea bubbled up like boiling water in my chest as it clicked open. I swiped up, displaying all of my open apps, scrolling immediately to the messages, and not stopping until I was on the thread named ‘Melissa’. I felt a surge of relief as I scrolled through. Nothing had been sent from my side. I was certain if Aaron suspected anything he’d have at least questioned Brandon. It seemed, for now, my betrayal was still hidden. The only new text from “Melissa”, had been sent the night before. ‘Looking forward to work tomorrow. Been wanting to get that project of ours done since last week.” I breathed a sigh of relief. All of the most incriminating messages had been deleted immediately after sending. I couldn’t help but smile, all of the previous anxiety faded as I set to getting ready for the day. By the end of the hour, I was in my car, heading out of town towards our planned meeting spot. We’d agreed on a motel far enough away from both of our cities. One that we hoped would ensure even the brief possibility of running into anyone either of us knew. We planned to spend the day together, allowing me to return long before Aaron or his wife returned from work, hopefully raising no suspicion. The ride there was one of peaks and valleys, almost overwhelming excitement making me jittery. Believe me, there was doubt. Hell, there were several moments stuck at red lights, in which I nearly felt myself turning the car around. God, I should have, I just - I didn’t. It probably wouldn’t have made a difference at that point. I pulled in front of the motel around 11:40am. The parking lot was a small square of concrete tucked at the center of the ‘L’ shaped building. Mine was one of the only vehicles in the twelve or so spaces, with the exception of an old Ford pickup well past its best days, and a sedan. Neither of which was Brandon's car, the picture of which I’d almost religiously committed to memory in the days before. I debated between waiting in the car or checking in, my nerves eventually making me settle on the former; though the longer I waited the more I felt my eyes searching nervously. After sending a few texts, none of which received responses, I felt my nerves reaching a boiling point. I knew I was far enough away that no one I knew should see me, but the thought alone made my stomach flip. After several minutes of internal debate, I quickly gathered myself and hurried into the building. The lobby was empty, a small room with puke green walls illuminated by garish fluorescent lighting. A single man sat behind the desk, short, and slightly balding, not even bothering to glance in my direction as he watched whatever show was blaring from the screen of his phone. After an awkward few moments, I cleared my throat, prompting an uninterested stare. “I - we have a reservation under Billy Tucker,” I spoke, trying to sound confident as I offered the fake name Brandon had given. The man cleared his throat, a loud, obnoxious sound, sucking his teeth as he glanced over at the wall full of keys to the side of him. After a moment, he responded. “That room’s already been checked in.” I frowned, feeling a stir of confusion that only worsened my anxiety. “Who - when?” I’d seen no sight of Brandon’s car. Had he taken an Uber? It felt strange that I wouldn’t have seen him. The man flipped his phone, seemingly moving on to texting as a method of trying to ignore me. *Perhaps, he just wanted to get here early to surprise me.* I smiled a bit at that. Given the romantic nature of his messages, I certainly wouldn’t put it past him to try and doll the room up a bit, doing his part to make the most out of the dreary motel room. Still, it was a bit past 10:30am. He should have been there almost a half hour ago, and if there was one thing I’d come to learn about Brandon it was his punctuality. “When did -?” “He came a few hours ago, maybe 6, maybe 7. Checked into the room, and left a few hours later.” he cut me off, finishing whatever message he was sending as he slipped his phone away. He looked me up and down, snorting loudly for a moment as if to clear his throat. “Seemed reallll eager for your arrival, missy.” He stared behind me, giving little attempt at tact before grunting with and adding. “Can’t imagine why.” My eyes squinted, face twisting into an expression that, if looks could kill, would surely have struck him dead. My mind spun for a moment as I considered the variables. For one, it made little sense that Brandon would arrive so early. For another, he had my number, why not respond to the string of texts I’d sent since I’d arrived? I swallowed hard. All of my excitement for the day was quickly fading, leaving only a burning sense of anxiety. I felt like a child again, with the lingering sense that I may just be in trouble. Had his wife caught him? The thought was like a bucket of ice water over any passion still smoldering in me. If she did, did she know who I was? Would she tell Aaron? The questions tumbled one after the other through my mind, each raising my heart rate more than the last. “Was he alone?” I asked suddenly, hardly even realizing the words were on my lips. “Was there anyone with him? Did someone meet him here or…I don’t know - find him?” The man pursed his lips, staring to the ceiling in a look of exaggerated concentration. “Ya know, come to think of it, there might have just been someone with him. Hard to remember sitting here for so long.” I felt my heart take a plunge. “Who? Was it a woman? Was she angry was -” I held my tongue before I could begin rambling. “Jesus, it was so long ago. This is a busy establishment and I’m not sure I can remember without a little help, maybe some… motivation.” My teeth felt ready to crumble with how hard I grit them, as I reached for my wallet with all the speed and fervor of molasses. I pulled out a twenty, and at the sound of sucked teeth, pulled out another. He reached for the cash before I could even offer it, snatching it with his thick fingers, and smiled. “Yup…yup, I remember now. There was a guy. Dark hair, maybe late twenties, early thirties. He pulled in a little bit after your Tucker fellow. Gave the name and the room number so I gave em a key. Gave me a fifty just to text him when you got here.” I felt my heart pounding, a series of conflicting emotions and rising questions fighting for supremacy in my mind. “He paid you to - you - you gave him the key? Who was it, did you get a name?” He appeared indignant at the clearly accusatory tone of my question. “No, I didn’t. I don’t get into the business of what you people do in my rooms, and I’m definitely not asking no two men about what they’re getting into. Who the fuck do you take me for?” He stood and walked over to the wall, grabbing a key. “Here. You’ve got the room until 8, you can take it and fuck off or just fuck off.” He huffed, turning his chair to the side as he returned to whatever he’d been watching on the phone before. I stood for a moment, staring between the man and the keys on the table, before deciding I’d get no further with him, and snatched them up while I muttered, “Asshole.” As I stepped out of the lobby and back outside, the shift from anger to mild, uneasy panic was immediate. I felt my breath grow uneven as I began making my way towards the room, a quick scan of the parking lot still showed no signs of him. My head spun. The most likely conclusion I could think of, or most prominent at least, was that he’d been found out by his wife. It couldn’t explain what the man at the front desk had told me if he was being honest, and for forty dollars I hoped he was. Brandon had been here and been followed into the room by a man who knew the name and number to ask for. I wracked my mind for who would be following him like that. Had his wife hired a P.I? A relative, perhaps? None of it felt right. I couldn’t see any reason for someone to follow him into the room. I arrived outside of the door, my mind still turning over the sparse details offered. I pushed it open, partly hoping to be greeted with his voice but- It was empty. Well, not empty. I quickly made my way to the bedside, my eyes locked immediately on the note sitting on the side of the bed. I picked it up immediately, my eyes running along the sides laced with decorative depictions of flowers. ‘*Dear Jessie,* *If you’ve listened to my instructions, you’re reading this on the way home. Hours after we’ve already met.* *I’m not much for love notes, as you can probably tell. But I sometimes find expressing things face to face even harder, so I wrote this beforehand to make sure you’ve heard/read it at some point tonight.* *The time we’ve spent talking has been the happiest I’ve felt in years.* *You remind me that there’s more to all of this than the daily slog. I’m glad to share this moment with you, and here’s to the hope that perhaps, one day, it won’t have to be so covert.* *P.S. Hope you like the roses.* I felt my heart pounding as I finished the letter, searching immediately for the roses, and finding none. Had he not had the time to leave them? So he had been here, long enough to leave me a note clearly, someone had followed him in, and now he was gone. My heart pounded, my head buzzing with rising panic as dark thoughts began to creep in. I pulled out my phone finally calling. It rang and rang, with no answer. I tried again, and again, and again, five calls more all yielding the same result. For a moment I flirted with the thought of calling the police, but as logic followed the panic a series of flaws showed themselves with that idea. What would I tell them? “Officer, the man I’m cheating with failed to show up to our shady meeting, I believe he might be…” I didn’t even want to finish the thought. It was ridiculous, of course. The more rational, albeit still painful probability was that guilt had overtaken him, and he’d turned back. The thought hurt on several levels, chiefly the guilt I felt having had the decision made for me. Still, none of it explained what the man at the front desk had said. There had been another man to ask for a key, and who’d paid him fifty dollars to know when I’d arrived. Someone had followed him in here. With that emerged the darker possibility, that even if something had happened to him, I couldn’t openly report it. Getting tied into an investigation would inevitably expose what we were involved in. I felt my stomach flip, the urge to vomit making my eyes water. *No. He’s fine. He’s fine and he simply…went home.* I tried my best to be louder than the dark thoughts, but it didn’t account for the stranger details of the day. After a few more moments of trying to grasp the situation, I decided it best to return home early. I could think of an adequate excuse for Aaron as to why I’d be leaving “work” so soon. I didn’t want to spend a moment longer in that silent motel room, accompanied only by my thoughts growing more unnerving by the second. As I made my way back to the car, I felt an unwavering sense of disappointment tinged with my anxiety. I’d been looking forward to our meeting for so long, looking forward to finally feeling his arms around me, but now would be returning home with little more than worry and that note to accompany me. If it did turn out he’d just had second thoughts it would hurt, but at that point, I just wanted an answer. My head spun as my car roared to life, and I cast a final glance at the motel in the vain hopes he may pull into the parking lot. There was nothing of course. I sighed. *Another man with him*…I picked over what the guy had told me, sifting through what few details were offered. Dark-haired, maybe 20’s or 30’s. I felt a twinge of something cold and distant deep within. The icy claw of suspicion, faint but present. Quickly, I pulled my key from the ignition, speed-walking across the lot and bursting into the lobby quite a bit more frenzied than I’d intended. I could hear the faint thud of my heart as it began to speed up, the eerie suspicion echoing amidst my darker thoughts. The chubby man at the front desk shot me an irritated look as I approached, likely expecting some complaint about the room. “The man,” I breathed, hardly even spacing out my words as they spilled forth, “The man who came with Bran - Billy. Did he have glasses?” My stomach tightened as soon as the question left my lips, the deeper implications of the question setting my nerves alight. The man at the front desk smiled though there was no humor in the expression, his face quickly returning to that exaggerated, quizzical look. I groaned but quickly pulled out my wallet, offering another twenty without complaint. “As a matter of fact he did,” he said with a phony smile, “Real smart lookin’ fella, he was. Though, he didn’t seem to be in the best of moods. I felt my breath catch. The room seemed to be spinning. His eyes searched me, a nasty smile growing. “Something tells me that means something to you, huh? Well, I’ve got nothing else for ya. You’re welcome to stand here and keep paying me but if not -” he gestured to the door. I nodded slowly, feeling shell-shocked as realization began to sink its icy claws into me. I realized the thought had always been there, from the moment he’d failed to arrive, growing more prominent with each strange coincidence. “The - the key is in the room.” I breathed, turning slowly and walking towards the door, never blinking once even though my mind was spinning. When I got to the car, I sat for several minutes, my hands clasping the steering wheel as I stared out the window ahead. After several moments, I took out my phone and sent another text though I knew I was unlikely to get a response. ‘I just want to know that you’re okay. I’m not mad, just worried. Please text me back.” I sighed, staring helplessly at the screen. Somewhere, in the dark reaches of my mind, the cold tendrils of an uncomfortable idea began to grip me. I opened Google, and typed in a question, hoping beyond hope that I’d find no answer. ‘*How to recover deleted messages, Iphone*.’ With every second that the screen loaded, I felt nausea grow stronger. I’d never been the most tech-savvy, it was one of the many things I appreciated about Aaron as he always served as my in-house tech support over the years. I’d tried to the best of my ability to cover my tracks but… he had always known much more about the stuff than me. Finally, it finished, a series of links appeared before me, and my heart dropped. Following the first of them, I returned quickly to my messages, hands hardly working fast enough. I clicked edit, almost dropping my phone as I saw the deleted messages tab. “Fuck.” My mind was immediately taken back to that morning, my phone placed so carefully on the desk. I suddenly felt quite certain I hadn’t left it facing up. *Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.* It was all I could think of as I tapped on the conversation between Brandon and I. Somehow, I already suspected what I might see, though I couldn’t yet understand its darkest implications. All of our texts loaded, every single one, all of the flirtatious messages and explicit photos I’d hoped to have cast into a digital abyss, laid out bare. As I scrolled, my mouth went dry, the breath catching in my throat as I read the last several messages sent from my phone. I realized, with dawning dread, that I recognized none of them. They hadn’t been sent by me. I checked the times - the first one was sent at 1:23am.. Long after I’d fallen asleep. ‘*Hey, Aaron’s leaving earlier tomorrow. Let’s meet around 4. We want as much time as possible after all ;).*’ My stomach twisted into a tight ball, vision wavering and head spinning as I read the text I never sent, the feeling only worsening with Brandon’s response. ‘*Even better. Trish is leaving for her mother's house around 6, I can think of an excuse to head out a bit early. An emergency at the hospital, probably..*’ He followed it up with an image that would have made me blush any other time, but only made that ball in my stomach tighten. ‘*I can’t wait to be inside of you, for you to feel my love…I’ll see u soon.*’ he said to follow it up. I rankled at that, at the thought of Aaron reading that. ‘*You will.*’ My head pounded as I continued the rest of the conversation. It had taken place between the time of the first message and 5am. Brandon had texted “me” to let me know he was en route, and my phone had responded back saying the same. Around 6, both sides confirmed arrival, Brandon telling “me” he’d be waiting in the room and that he had something for me. ‘*I can’t wait. I’ll be there in a second. And eyes closed, I have a surprise for you, too.*’ It was the last message sent from my phone that I hadn’t sent. There was no follow-up from Brandon, the only texts remaining in the thread all coming from me from the start of that morning. I let my phone fall to the side, clattering into the console, as my head fell onto the steering wheel. I screamed. I screamed until I could taste the coppery flavor of blood at the back of my throat, not stopping until someone pulled into the lot, and cast me an odd look. I grappled with what to do next, what I *should* do. There was only one logical conclusion, desperately I wanted to avoid it, and that was that Aaron had gotten into my phone when I was asleep and sent those texts. Given his proficiency with technology, I didn’t doubt he’d known about recovering deleted messages long beforehand and had seen what I had tried to hide. What that meant for Brandon, I wasn’t sure. The logical, hopeful part of me told me Aaron must have confronted Brandon, maybe even threatened to expose him to his wife and made him back off. It would explain the radio silence. The less hopeful part, which I couldn’t help but feel eerily drawn to, told me Aaron had confronted Brandon. But the outcome was that something far more sinister had happened. I wanted to vomit, I wanted to peel out of the parking lot and tear down the nearest highway to just disappear. As the bleak reality settled in, I knew I had nowhere else to go, and even if I did, I couldn’t just disappear like that. Not without knowing what had happened. My mind became restless with unnerving thoughts, as I started my car and pulled out of the lot, beginning the drive home. It somehow felt twice as long as before; no amount of music at any volume was drowning out the questions I was asking myself, nor the curses I was directing at my own stupid and irrational behavior. By the time I pulled up in front of the house, my stomach was twisted into several knots. The lights were on inside, and as the garage door roared open, I saw that Aaron’s car sat waiting inside. A part of me nearly peeled out of the driveway, not even sure of where I would go, but I kept it at bay. My stomach flipped as I turned my keys in the door, and as I opened it I was ready to see Aaron standing in wait. As the door opened, I was greeted only by the fragrant scent of spices and cooking meat wafting out from the kitchen. The sounds of movement, clattering pots, and closing cabinets confirmed what the smell already told me. Aaron was cooking, and taking particular care with this meal, if the watering of my mouth told me anything. Confusion served to abate some of the initial unease for a moment. I closed the door as silently as I could, though I was sure he’d heard me, and crept slowly through the living room, towards the entry to the kitchen. As I peered around the corner, I could hear Aaron humming to himself as he worked, watching as he busied himself with the meat he was sauteing. “Dinner will be ready in ten,” I jumped as he spoke, almost forgetting that he’d heard me enter. “Go ahead and wait at the table,” he said, turning to face me. His expression was utterly unreadable, the mask of professionalism I often saw from him on business calls, almost work-like and yet…his eyes - despite his best attempt, I could see a cold rage beneath them. I felt my heart racing as it hammered against my chest, my mouth falling open to respond, yet I couldn’t think of what to say. The air felt heavy, thick with a surreal sort of tension, as I was walking through a nightmare that felt like static between us. All of the day's confusion and anxiety whirled about my head in a simultaneous maelstrom. Fear, embarrassment, worry, confusion, and a mild dread all battling for dominance. After a long, dreadful moment of silence, I nodded, slowly making my way into the adjoining dining room. My heart dropped as I peered into the room and saw what sat on the table. At the very center, lay a bouquet of roses, wrapped in decorative paper covered in hearts.I swallowed hard against the lump in my throat and tried not to acknowledge the uncomfortable questions it raised. I took my seat at the far end of the table, hyper-aware of every noise from the sliding of the chair against the wood, and its creak as I sat, my nerves on high alert. I watched as he began plating the food, still humming some unfamiliar tune to himself, the knot in my gut only tightening. I couldn’t understand why he was behaving the way he was, why he hadn’t just confronted me already when I knew that he knew. Waiting for the other shoe to drop was torturous, and I felt as though I might be sick. He filled two glasses with water from the pitcher, walking the plates over to the table first. He placed his down at the opposite end of the table, before approaching me. I felt my heart thump, threatening to burst free of my chest as he reached over my shoulder, placing it in front of me. He repeated the same with the water, and without another word, took his place at the end of the table, and began eating. I watched, eyes wide and unblinking, stomach far too twisted to even think of taking a bite yet, though what looked to be the steak did smell enticing. After several bites, he looked up at me almost quizzically. “Eat. Please.” I opened my mouth as if to argue, but given the situation, it felt like the last thing I had any right to do. Reluctantly, despite the nausea still nipping at my gut, I cut into the meat and took a bite. He nodded, as I chewed slowly. The taste was unfamiliar but deeply savory, I wondered what sort of seasoning he might have used. “How are the green beans?” he asked over a mouthful, “I think I may have overseasoned them but who knows?” I stared back, still in disbelief, as I chewed the gamey meat. It was delicious but unfamiliar. I took another bite. Was it elk? Deer? “Why are you doing this?” I blurted the question before I could think better of it. He shot me a look, confused, though I could see in it the anger barely restrained. “Doing what, my love?” he asked, a mocking lilt in his question. “Cooking for my ungrateful, conniving, treacherous wife as I do so often? Well, why wouldn’t I?” The sensation that pierced my chest was like a white-hot blade, my stomach lurching as he spoke. I knew he was angry, furious surely, but I’d never heard Aaron so much as address an unkind word at me, to hear such fury…almost hate, it chilled me to my core. “I - Aaron I know I fucked up I’m -” “Shut up, shut the *fuck* up.” he spat the words through clenched teeth, hands balling into fists around his utensils as he glared at me from across the table with such malice, for a moment I began to wonder just who I was sitting across. He glared at me for several seconds, as though he were considering something unspeakable before he took a breath, his face returning to the neutral mask of before. It was like he was dealing with a client, or talking to a boss rather than his wife. “I apologize for the outburst. Please, let’s enjoy the rest of the meal.” tried to blink back the tears that were blurring my vision, feeling my face start to redden. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. He nodded. “I’m sure you are. You’re sorry that you forgot, for all the praise I heaped on you, I’ve always been the smarter one.” His eyes locked with mine, and I was no longer looking at the Aaron who’d loved me for the past several years, but a cold, calculated man who had been scorned. “You’re sorry you got caught. Maybe you’re even sorry that you did it, but not because you regret it. Because you know there was no reality in which I wouldn't have caught you.” I could only listen as he spoke, feeling equal parts hurt and regretful that a part of me agreed with him. He smiled, the expression somehow genuine, taking another bite of the meat. “But - it’s okay. I think I can try and forgive you. After all, it’s not a mistake I think you’ll make again..” he peered up at me. “Right?” The question was asked in such a tone that I knew there was one answer. “N-no, of course not.” I wanted to be relieved, and part of me was but…something was still so wrong. My eyes fell on the roses lying on the table between us, my mind recalling the note I’d found on the motel bed. I had to know what had happened to Brandon. “I - I’m so sorry to ask, believe me, it’s not because…I just need to know. You were at that motel, the man in the lobby told me, you paid him to tell him when I arrived. You went into the room…” My voice shook, but I met his gaze. “What happened to Brandon?” He laughed, a deep genuine sound. He laughed, and laughed, and laughed some more until his face was red and he’d sent himself into a near coughing fit. I felt my guts twisting themselves all the while. “Mr. I wanna be inside you?” he asked, in a mock seductive voice. He chuckled. “Don’t worry, I made sure your lover got his wish.” My head spun as I tried to make sense of what he was saying. As realization began to rise, like some beast surfacing from the dark waters, I felt my mouth begin to water, my throat heaving with the need to vomit. “Speaking of which, how’s the steak? First time cooking something that isn’t beef, pork, or chicken, but" he shrugged, eyes gleaming with malintent. “I think I did [alright](https://www.reddit.com/r/SetiStories/comments/y5icpg/seti_story_masterlist/).”

The statue we found on the trail

y6g5f0

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y6g5f0/the_statue_we_found_on_the_trail/

[Part 1](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xvre8f/the_statue_we_found_on_the_trail/) Kara wasn't home, so just Jodi and I went over to Jeff's house. There was a police car in the driveway. Jeff must have seen us coming as he came outside to talk to us when we went onto his driveway. "He just disappeared…the doors to the house were locked, and nothing was out of place or damaged. Even his sheets were pulled up on the guest bed where he slept," he said. "We have to destroy the statue," I said. "Maybe then the dreams will stop…and maybe your cousin will come back." We went inside and up the stairs to Jeff's room. A poster of Cindy Crawford was over the dresser where Jeff was looking. "Hey, I thought I put it back on my dresser," he said. He looked around the sides of the dresser and in his closet. "It isn't here anymore." "Did you show it to your mom or the police?" asked Jodi. "No…I didn't tell them about the dreams or the statue. I was afraid they would think I was crazy," he said. "Then where is it?" I asked. "I don't know," he said. There was a knock at the door while we were going downstairs. Jeff opened it up, and Katie was standing there holding the statue. "Do you think that's funny putting this in my room like that? Who let you in…was it my brother?" Kara said. "What? No," said Jeff. "It was in my room, and then it was gone." Kara glared at him. "I swear," he said. "I didn't move it." "Who cares how it got there," I said. "Let's just destroy it and get this over with. Do you have a lighter, Jeff?" "I think there is one in the garage," he said. "Grab it, and we'll burn it on the trails," I said. Jeff's mom and aunt were still talking to the police officers. Jeff shouted out, "Going for a bike ride with my friends. Be back before dark." Then he rushed us outside and quickly closed the door before they could respond. Jeff ran to the garage, grabbed the lighter and his bike, and off we rode for the trails. Before we turned down the dead-end street, we saw Kyle on his bike headed toward us. "Hey guys, I'm back!" he shouted. "Are you going to the hill?" He rode over to us, and we all stopped. The rest of us looked at each other, unsure of what to say. "Well, what are you waiting for? Let's go. I'll tell you about my vacation when we get up there," he said. "We're going to have a bonfire first," I said. "We'll fill you in when we get there." We went around the barrier and onto the dirt trails. Jeff led the way and stopped by the makeshift fire pit. Kara set the statue down, and we all started grabbing sticks and logs to build a fire. "What's going on?" Kyle asked. "You guys are so serious…this is weird." "It is hard to explain," I said. "See…we found this statue, and weird things have been happening." "What statue? Is this it?" Kyle said as he set his bike down and reached for the statue. "No, don't touch it!" we all yelled simultaneously. Kyle laughed. "You guys are messing with me," he said and then picked it up. "No, we're not," Kara said. "But it's probably too late now… you'll see when you go to bed tonight." "What are you talking about?" he said. We threw some larger logs into the fire pit and then added a bunch of sticks and leaves. "You guys are serious about this, aren't you?" Kyle asked. "Yes. We've all been sharing a dream since we touched this statue," said Kara. "And now Jeff's cousin is missing." "I don't understand," said Kyle. Jeff lit the leaves on fire, and we added more every so often to keep the initial fire going. After a while, the sticks and then the bigger logs caught fire. Once it was going strong, Kara grabbed the statue and threw it in. "Do you think he'll start the dream in the circle like us?" I asked. "Brian didn't," said Jeff. "He was at my house." "Wasn't that where he touched it?" asked Jodi. "Yeah. It was on my dresser when he grabbed it," said Jeff. "We always start in the circle where we first touched it," said Kara. "Maybe that means Kyle will start here." "Hopefully, this will stop it, though," I said as I put another log on the fire. "What if it doesn't stop?" asked Jodi. "We should show Kyle where to go, just in case." "Good idea," I said. "We can do it after we get rid of this stupid thing." "I'm still not sure what you're talking about, but okay," said Kyle. We added more wood and continued to sit around the fire. It was somewhat windy, so we had to move around when the smoke came our way. We hung out there for over an hour, watching the fire. Kyle told us about his camping trip, and we told him more details about the dreams and what had been happening. After a lot of the wood had burned down, I scooped up some dirt and sand to throw on the fire. Then I grabbed a big stick and pushed around the remnants of the fire. "I don't see it in here," I said. "Hopefully, it is burnt to ashes." "I like seeing you guys during the day, but I don't want to see you in my dreams anymore," said Jodi. "I still think you all are messing with me, but you are freaking me out," he said. "My mom didn't want me to stay out long since we just got back, so I should go home." "Good idea," said Jeff. "I'm sure I'll be in trouble when I get back. We took Kyle over to the circle of dead grass and told him to come right over here when the dream started. He nodded, but I don't think he believed us yet. "Is the circle getting smaller?" asked Jodi. "Huh. I think it is," said Jeff. Some of the yellowing grass was standing up, and I could definitely see that it was smaller than before. We got back on our bikes and rode on the trail back to our neighborhood. "Hope I don't see you tonight," said Kara. I said goodbye to my friends and headed home. When I got back, my parents talked to me about Jeff's cousin and said they didn't want me out after dark anymore. They said to be aware of anyone suspicious in the neighborhood and scream for help if I was ever in danger. I fell asleep pretty quickly that night and dreamt that I was walking through the trails by myself. The trees were burning all around me, and I could feel the heat from the flames. I heard a loud growl from within the burning woods and watched as the monster ran through the trees, stopping directly in front of me. It smelled of burnt wood and had smoke coming off of its body. I tried to move but was frozen in place. All I could do was stand there as it moved closer and closer. The heat was radiating off its body, and I could feel my body sweating. I heard my friends yelling my name, and I looked over to see them in the circle surrounded by a ring of fire. The monster reached out and touched my arm. I screamed in pain before waking up in my bed. My sheets were wet, which I had hoped was just from sweat, as I could feel it dripping off my face. I had a burning pain in my arm. After rolling up my sleeve, I saw a red mark where the monster had touched me. It hurt pretty bad, but I didn't tell my parents because I was worried they would think I burned it on a bonfire. At school, I couldn't wait for recess so I could talk to my friends. The morning moved slowly, and when it was finally time to go outside, I walked with Jodi down the hall and out to the playground. "What happened last night?" Jodi said. "You weren't with us, and we could barely see you over the fire." I rolled up my sleeve. "The monster grabbed my arm," I said. "Oh my God!" she said. "That's a pretty bad burn. It looks like it hurts." "It was worse when I woke up, but it doesn't feel as bad now," I said. Once we got outside, we saw Kyle by the swings and started walking over to him. "Oh no," said Jodi. "Here comes Jason and his friends." Jason was a jerk. He would always purposely walk toward you, and if you didn't move out of the way, he would strike you with his shoulder. I didn't feel like dealing with him, so I moved to the side. He put his foot out right as I walked by, and I stumbled and fell into the dirt. "Did you have a nice trip?" one of his friends said while they all laughed. Kyle ran over, and then he and Jodi helped me up. I brushed the dust off my clothes. I glared at Jason for a moment and then turned around. "Let's just go," I said. "He's such a jerk," said Kyle. He was always causing trouble with the other kids and the teachers. I was glad he wasn't in my class since he was so disruptive and annoying. After they made sure I was okay, we started talking about the statue. "I didn't have any weird dreams last night…I knew you guys were just messing with me about that statue," he said. "It was different last night," said Jodi. "But they are real. Look at this." Jodi grabbed my arm and showed Kyle the burn mark. "The monster touched my arm last night, and this was here when I woke up," I said. "Hey guys," Jeff said as he and Kara walked over to join us. "Why was it so different last night? I thought this was supposed to be over." "Me too," said Jodi. "You won't believe what happened this morning," Kara said. "The statue was sitting on my dresser when I woke up. It was covered with ash but looked the same as before once I brushed it off." "I think I made it mad," I said as I showed her my arm. "Yikes," said Kara. "I wonder what is going to happen tonight," said Jeff.

My wife has always hated Halloween. Now I know the horrifying reason why

y5ry4q

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y5ry4q/my_wife_has_always_hated_halloween_now_i_know_the/

Phoebe has always hated Halloween. Even back when we were dating—she never came to any Halloween parties with me. *I have a cold. I have a headache. I ate something bad.* After we got married and moved into the suburbs, she wouldn’t even join me handing out candy to trick-or-treaters. *I’m going to sleep,* she’d say, even though it was only 6 o’clock. She'd even ask me to leave the house because I was "making too much noise." I let it slide… until Anthony was born. ”Come on. We *have* to go trick-or-treating.” Anthony was dressed up as the cutest little pumpkin—only 8 months old. He smiled as I bounced him in my arms, looking out the door into the night. “I’m really not feeling well,” Phoebe replied, lingering on the stairs. “You seemed fine ten minutes ago.” “Well, I don’t feel well *now.”* “I don’t believe you.” It was mean, but I was annoyed. She’d given me the same excuses for eight Halloweens in a row. It wasn’t coincidence. She didn’t deny it—just looked past me, into the night. “Why do you hate Halloween? Is it because your parents were so strict? I know you weren’t allowed to trick-or-treat, growing up…” “Can’t you just take Anthony alone?” “I want to go as a family.” She glanced again at the darkness gathering outside. Then she pressed her lips into a thin line. “I’m sorry. But I don't feel good.” A heavy silence settled between us. She came down the stairs. Wrapped her arms around both of us, and patted Anthony softly on the head. “I love you both. Have fun tonight.” From the way her voice slightly wavered, I could’ve sworn she was on the verge of tears. But she turned away, and in a flash of dark hair, she was already upstairs. The same dance happened over and over again, every year. Anthony was soon wearing Mutant Ninja Turtles and Star Wars costumes instead of pumpkins, but Phoebe still refused to go trick-or-treating with us. Every year we had the same discussion. I asked her to come. She insisted that she was feeling ill. She went upstairs to our bedroom and locked the door. Anthony and I headed out onto the sidewalk, candy bucket swinging. Except, on the evening of Halloween 2021, we came home early. Anthony had tripped and skinned his knee. So less than an hour after we left we were hobbling home. As we rounded the bend onto Maple Ave., I saw that the light in our room was on. Phoebe hadn’t “gone to sleep” like she said she was. I helped Anthony with the wound, set him up in front of the TV, and then charged upstairs. I was mad. She must’ve heard us come home, must’ve heard Anthony crying in the kitchen—and she didn’t even come down to check on us? Whether her aversion to Halloween was psychological, or some sort of moral religious thing, it had to stop. But as I got to the top of the stairs, I froze. Phoebe’s voice was coming from our room. She was talking to someone. I tiptoed to the door and pressed my ear against it. I couldn’t make out what she was saying—but her voice was low, fast, soft. Like she was trying not to be heard. My body went cold. I turned the doorknob—but it was locked. “Phoebe! Let me in!” The light coming from under the door went out. “I know you’re in there,” I shouted. Seconds ticked by. A clatter sounded from behind the door. Then, finally, it opened. Phoebe darted out, quickly closing the door behind her. She looked significantly worse than just an hour ago, her skin was pale and deep bags under her eyes. “You shouldn’t be home this early,” she whispered. “Who’s in there with you?” “No one.” She glanced back at the closed door. “You and Anthony need to get out of here. *Now.*” “What’s going on?” “Mike—” She was cut off by a soft *thump.* Someone was knocking on our bedroom door. Something about the knocks made my whole body go cold. They were slow, methodical—like the person on the other side had all the time in the world. “Who’s in there?” I whispered. She glanced back at the door again, her eyes wide. “Do you remember the time I got a really bad asthma attack? I told you about it when we first started dating. How I was in the hospital for weeks, how I almost died.” *Thump… thump…* “What’s that got to do with anything?” “I should’ve died. But I didn’t. And now—every Halloween—I have to give *it* some of my life, in payment.” Without another word, she pushed the door open. In the center of the darkened room stood a towering form. Black robes hung off its thin frame, trailing on the ground. A large jack-o’-lantern sat on its shoulders, its eyes flickering amber, the mouth cut into a wide grin. The only parts of its body visible were its hands—long, gray, bone-thin fingers that ended in sharp nails. It stood in the center of the room, absolutely still. Phoebe turned away from me. She walked towards the thing, her legs shaking underneath her. The jack-o’-lantern raised a bony finger and touched her forehead. And then it crumpled into a mass of black fabric at her feet. Phoebe turned around. Her mouth stretched into a wide grin as her eyes locked on mine. Then she stepped toward me, emitting a horrible, guttural laugh. I ran out of the bedroom. “Anthony!” I shouted. Finding him still in front of the TV, I grabbed him and ran outside. We leapt into the car and peeled out of the driveway. In the rearview mirror, I could see her—its—silhouette in the upstairs window. Watching us.

Something weird happened in my basement when the lights failed

y6nypr

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y6nypr/something_weird_happened_in_my_basement_when_the/

First of all, I wanna apologize for the possible grammatical errors bc English is not my first language but I needed to share this story bc if I keep it to myself any more time I think I'm going to lose it. To start let me tell you a little of history. 5 years ago I met Aaron, he was like the perfect guy, the popular one who plays basket on the uni team. Long story short, we met, we fell in love, and then got married 2 years ago. He is a computer science engineer and I am a nurse, so our salaries are pretty decent and we have been saving to buy a house in the neighborhood we’ve always wanted. Two months ago we found this big house at a very low price and we thought that it was our signal to buy it, so without thinking a lot we bought it and moved, all in 3 weeks. At first, it was all good, our families loved it and we were super happy, till one day something really weird happened. I was just chilling on the couch after a long shift when the lights started to fail, I called Aaron and asked him to go to the basement to check the controls, he went and didn’t come up for 3 hours. To be honest, at the moment I just called him and when he didn't answer I just thought that he was fixing the problem so I let it be. I know that some of you are going to think that I was dumb for not going down but the truth is that I am afraid of basements. When I was little I used to get locked in the basement as a punishment for my “bad” grades, so I really hate those places. Returning to the matter, when Aaron came back he was acting weird and had red eyes so I went to him and asked what happened down there but he just stared at me and then went upstairs, I caught that it was a signal for me to follow him so I did. When we arrived at the room, he locked the door, turned around, and looked at me. I swear, he had a look of absolute terror and said to me quietly “I don't know what just happened, I just know that there is something down there and it wants us dead” I laughed bc obviously I thought it was a joke but he remained serious. We looked at each other for at least 5 minutes without saying a thing when the lights started to fail again, and this is when this turns weird bc Aaron just busted out laughing and said “You should have seem your face, you were TERRIFIED” And then just went into the bathroom. Anyone would think that it was just some kind of joke but the thing is that when Aaron started laughing he had something in his eyes. I know I know I sound like a crazy person just seeing things but I'm serious Later that day, I was cooking dinner when my husband appeared and asked what have I done for dinner. I looked at him right in the eye and told him that he knows I never cook because the last time I tried I almost burned the house so he literally told me that from that moment I had prohibited to cook. Aaron looked at me and then said “Right, I forgot, let me cook” At that moment I knew that something was really wrong because he never forgets that detail, he literally tells me every morning “don't you dare burn my kitchen today” EVERY-FUCKING-DAY he says the same damn thing, even when he is mad at me or if he has a lot of things to do. this routine of him reminding me that I can’t cook is something that has been happening for 3 years, so no, I don't buy it. I went upstairs, did all my things and went to bed, and fell asleep. It was 3.30 when I heard something crash in the kitchen. I woke up and looked beside me but Aaron wasn’t there, and the sheets were untouched so I guessed he didn't go to bed earlier. I got up and went out of my room but stayed there because I was a little more than afraid that someone had broken into our house, but then I heard someone crying and it sounded like my husband so I rushed downstairs and saw him sitting on the couch with his hands on his head and mumbling something I couldn’t understand. I called him and he turned his head sharply and said “What are you doing here?” “I heard something crash and then someone crying so I came to see what happened” “Nothing happened, go back to sleep” “No” He stared Like really stared I stood there still because something was happening He blinked Blinked Again and again Just looking at me for 3 straight minutes And then his face changed completely He passed from being completely blank to having an expression of pure horror and pain, Then told me “Mara, I need you to leave this house because something is happening to me and I have this pure want to kill you” I didn't know if he was joking but I thought it was a really awful thing to joke about so I turned around and run out of the house. When I was out of the house I heard something crashing inside the house and then a shot. I was in shock Didn't know what just happened so I called the police and said that I thought that someone had broken into our house and that I needed them to come as soon as possible because my husband was still inside with the intruder. I don't know why I said that if I knew there was no one inside, I just needed someone to come. When the police arrived they told me to stay outside while they went in to take a look so I did exactly as they told me. Minutes later an officer came out and told me that it all seemed normal and that I must have hallucinated it I know I didn't Then my “husband” came out and looked at me with a blank expression and said “come in honey, it was just a nightmare” He never, not even once, had called me honey, we both hated that nickname. He took my hand and practically dragged me into that house, and the police didn’t do a thing because they thought I was having a psychotic attack or some shit like that. I'm not sure what happened next To be honest I don’t remember a lot after I entered the house The only thing I know is that there are days when I don’t remember going out of bed but then someone tells me something I did that day. Or I find dirty clothes around the floor that I don’t remember using. The same thing happens with Aaron. Days that we just seem to forget completely. One day I was recollecting dirty clothes around the house when I found a weird red mark on my favorite shirt. I'm really afraid that I did something that I don't remember and I don't know what to do. If I say something I may end up in a psychiatric hospital. But if I don't, I think I’ll lose it and end up killing myself to stop this anxiety that keeps me awake most nights because I know that when I fall asleep I'm going to forget what happened the other day

I'm a Trucker for a Shady Organization. I Haul a Portal to Hell (Part 2)

y6i9ab

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y6i9ab/im_a_trucker_for_a_shady_organization_i_haul_a/

[Part 1](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y5ee2l/im_a_trucker_for_a_shady_organization_i_haul_a/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=android_app&utm_name=androidcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button) Assignment 23, Day 3, 12:00 noon "Wakey wakey, we're here." The driver spurred me from my slumber. Groggily, I sat up. Somewhat bruised and sore, the recent events came rushing back. "What are you!" I demanded, silently thankful to find myself intact after god knows how long alone with that thing. "I dunno" they shrugged, sliding into a posh British accent. "That isn't helpful," I scolded, unnerved. I reached for the weapon I had recently appropriated, tucking it into the back of my sweatpants. The cold metal pressed against the small of my back sent a shiver up my spine. "Really? Is that any way to speak to the humble driver who completed your route?" They scolded, catching my gaze in the rear view mirror. "That pitiful peashooter won't work on me, chap," they stated, with a hint of sadness. "You sound disappointed by that?" I blurted, slapping my forehead over my poor filter. "Clever girl," the driver said, briefly slipping into an Australian accent. "Righty then, where to, little lady?" "Ugh don't call me that, first. Second, scooch," I shooed them out of the way, taking control of the vehicle. Translucent green signs appeared before us, directing me where to go. "Bloody hell…" the driver trailed off, returning to a British accent. "I recommend shutting up. These guys aren't too friendly." I warned, feeling a vein bulge in my forehead. "Cheers love, what's the worst that could happen?" The driver chuckled, miming out a toast and a shot. "Wha-?" I spat, making a double take. The instant their lips parted, their entire appearance shifted. Instead of the mannequin body, there now sat a pilgrim looking, farmer's tanned, clean shaven man. "Is this not low profile?" The driver fluttered their lashes in an entirely disturbing way, considering their current appearance. "NO!" I half chuckled, half scolded. "Try something more… truckery?" The moment I finished those words, the driver took on a slightly overweight, trucker hat wearing man with t-shirt tan lined arms. "How 'bout this?" The driver boasted, raising a thumb to their chest. "Is the voice right?" The driver asked, singing a musical scale in a now perfect trucker voice. I did not justify that with acknowledgement, instead following the directions to the drop site. I pulled up to the Victorian black iron gate, rolling down my window. "Morning sir, I have a drop off for ParaPedigree." I called to the guard station. "Ma'am, excuse you." The security guard corrected, then ordered "papers." I produced the documents through the window, where she plucked them from my hand. With a 'fuck you' flourish, she scanned them over. "You know the place," she growled, buzzing to open the gate. Reversing to the leftmost bay, I disconnected the cabin from the cargo, then pulled forwards. "What now?" The driver probed, watching through the side mirror as the receivers unloaded around the delivery. "Keep your head down and shut up!" I hissed, throwing myself as low as possible. All at once, screams erupted in a terrible chorus, the staccato of gunshots peppered in. "Shoot, dammit!" One guard ordered, panicked. "We're shooting, we're shooting!" Another cried, dread and fear palpable. Twin primal roars boomed louder than a thunderclap as the guards whimpered in terror. "Idiots." The driver sighed, not insultingly, but in an objective way. "They're all idiots." I heard the click of the passenger door. Frozen on the ground, I couldn't bring myself to object to the driver’s actions. "Oi!" The driver roared. "Come at me, ya bastards!" Shots sprinkled the cabin as some guards turned their fire our way. The driver didn't seem to mind, but I was trembling. One well placed ricochet could end me. "Damn you driver!" I shouted. *If I died here, my last words would at least be good ones.* My window shattered as something shot through it, landing inside with me. Hazarding a glance, I nearly fainted. A fucking head sat there, staring, slack jawed. Beginning to hyperventilate, I thought I was going crazy as I heard and watched it speak. "Be a dear and toss me out there, wontcha?" The driver’s head asked in an unfamiliar voice. Breathing heavier and heavier, the world spun. This was batshit. "We don't have all day. They're coming-!" The driver warned, cut off as something crashed on top of the cabin with a deafening **CREAK!** A massive, meaty hand crashed through the passenger window, blindly searching for something. The driver said nothing, looking at me and raising their eyebrows a few times at the hand. With a painful, dry gulp, I grabbed the weightless head and hurled it out my window. Instantly, the thing pounced from its perch atop my vehicle, shattering the windshield from sheer force. I did not have the courage to watch, covering my ears and squeezing my eyes as tight as I could. I layed there for what felt like an eternity, waiting for the thing to claim my life. The driver's side door fell from the cabin, and I felt something cold pry my hand free and touch my ear. I let loose a piercing scream, drawing the pistol and firing blindly at where I thought the thing was. The thing only twisted its slimy finger in my ear, undeterred by my efforts. A cold hand pat my cheek, as the driver said "all clear." After I remained frozen in the fetal position for a few minutes, the driver slapped me. "Ey, you're okay." They pulled me from the floor of the cabin, then set me carefully on my feet. At some point tears must have begun streaming down my face, as my eyes felt puffy and stung. Wiping them a few times, I took in my surroundings. I might've stood there, frozen for the rest of my days, had the saliva not dripped down my ear. Absentmindedly, I wiped at my ear. The driver snorted proudly. "Wet willy, classic!" The driver chuckled to themself. I was too stunned to argue. The area was like a Picasso painting. Half melted body armor was fused to the ground, haphazardly scattered across the pavement. The remains of the guards oozed out from their armor, a purple goop sizzling as it sank in. The first thing that crossed my mind as my senses slowly returned was *my heart is beating really damn fast* as I fell into a black cold of unconsciousness. — "Wakey wakey!" The driver announced in a chipper, sing-songway. That energy quickly depleted as I unload my stomach in an awful projectile, drenching them. "Ugh…" I gagged, feeling another wave of nausea bubbling up. "Where are-what happened?!" "Eh at your house, nice place by the way." The driver gave a thumbs up, then asked, "where is your bathroom?" "Last door on the right-wait why are you in **my house** and how did you even get here?!" I demanded, pointing my finger at them like a bad dog. Raising their hands in surrender, they said "would you rather wake up surrounded by those melted corpses?" *They just had to say it!* My nausea peaked and another projectile sprayed the driver. They flipped me off the whole while. Without another word, they marched down the hall and hopped into the shower. They're currently showering. Do I call the cops or something? [Part 3](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y7f60c/im_a_trucker_for_a_shady_organization_i_haul_a/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=android_app&utm_name=androidcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button)

I discovered a wrecked ship off the coast of Hawaii, and now my life is in danger.- Part 2

y6jsrq

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y6jsrq/i_discovered_a_wrecked_ship_off_the_coast_of/

[1](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xxdc5z/i_discovered_a_wrecked_ship_off_the_coast_of/) I set down the binoculars calmly and stepped outside. I could feel my heart beating rapidly, like it was about to come out of my chest. The man holding the gun was large and burly. “Bet you thought you were so clever huh? Did you really think we didn’t know what car you drove? Or that we wouldn’t check for suspicious cars parked around the house?” I didn’t reply, just avoided his icy gaze. He reached up to touch his ear. “Yeah, I got him. He was sitting in his car on the hill.” His eyes then fell upon the car behind me. “Where is the helmet?” I knew I was defeated. And I didn’t want to risk any consequences of my actions falling on my wife and daughter. “It’s in the trunk,” I admitted. He stepped past me, opened it up, and pulled the helmet out. Once more he touched his ear. “I got it, it was in his trunk.” I noticed the men in my house swiftly exit, get into their car, and drive up the hill. “I gave you what you wanted, now let me go,” I said to the other man as he examined the helmet closely. I imagined he was trying to see if I had done any damage to it. But when he heard me he just laughed. “Are you kidding? We offered to do this easy way for you, but you wanted the hard way. Now there will be consequences.” The SUV pulled up besides my car, and the man opened the door and set the helmet in. He then pulled a pair of handcuffs out. I knew what he wanted me to do and stuck my hand out. For a brief moment I considered trying to run, but that thought faded quickly. It would have been a stupid move that could just result in me being gunned down. I stuck my hands out and he quickly cuffed them before ordering me into the back seat. There I sat next to another man, an equally huge guy who wore a black beard and stared ahead with a dead look in his eyes. Once the man who had handcuffed me got in the car, we began to drive off, and in the direction of downtown. I assumed I was under arrest, but noticed they hadn’t read me my Miranda rights like they were supposed. I thought about saying something or at least asking where they were gonna take me, but kept my mouth shut for now. The other men didn’t talk either so I was left to speculate who they really were. My best guess was the FBI. And that the helmet I had taken was some part of a prototype suit or armor, and that someone had taken it from them and was on the run. I couldn’t understand why they cared about the map though and hoped Nathan wasn’t in any serious trouble. I had good money and could probably afford a good lawyer, but I was already worrying about how much punishment I would face. I figured surely my lawyer could use the fact that they didn’t even disclose who they really were to my advantage. I was just a guy who found a cool helmet. And I did my duty as a good person to even report the shipwreck. But when the SUV slowed down and turned down a dark ally, I began to worry again. “Hey, what the… Where are you taking me? Shouldn’t I be going to the police station?” The SUV stopped in front of a decrepit warehouse, and the other men got out. “Who are you guys? What you’re doing isn’t right, I didn’t know who you were,” “Shut up and stop whining. We aren’t going to kill you. We’re with the government as you already knew. Someone just wants to talk to you,” he said and they all walked into the warehouse. I reluctantly followed. There was one man standing inside, someone I had already met. The Chapman guy from lunch. When he saw me in cuffs, he raked the other guys with a furious gaze. “What are you doing Greg? Did you threaten him? Hurt him in any way?” “No sir,” the guy who I presumed to be Cooper responded. He was the same one who had first confronted me at the car. “Uncuff him right now!” Chapman demanded. Greg pulled the key out of his suit pocket and complied with Chapman’s orders. Once I was out of the cuffs, I began talking. “Alright, you got your helmet back. Now can you please let me go? I’m sorry I took it, I had no clue It was something that important. And I fully intended to return it in a few days, I just wanted to study it for a little bit.” “Mr. Tupoula, please. Let me be the one to apologize. We didn’t mean to come off as so intimidating here, we didn’t want to scare you.” He had taken on a calmer demeanor to address me. “Scare me? Your guy here pointed his gun at me.” “Is that true Greg?” He narrowed his eyes at him. “But… sir…” “I don’t want to hear it. In fact, I think Mr. Tupoula here is owed an explanation.” He then turned to look at me. I could feel my heart beating fast, but I didn’t say anything. “Earlier at the lunch, I think my friend and I came off as too threatening and rude. I wasn’t lying, about being part of the government. But you see if I told you the name of our organization, well you wouldn’t believe me. You see we aren’t FBI, CIA, NSA… No we work in developing technologically. Technology for our military in fact. So you can see why we were all so worked up. And I won’t lie to you anymore. That helmet you have? It’s part of the advanced diving suit we’ve been working on. What happened was one of our men, tried to take the suit and sell it on some black market. We had no clue where he was heading, but I can see now he must have gotten caught up in some terrible storm and shipwrecked.” “Ok, well you can have the helmet back. I didn’t know what I had come across. I just want my family to be OK, and Nathan too.” “Your family and friends are both safe. We just told Nathan not to contact you in case you decided to flee. But he doesn’t know what you know. You are kinda famous, aren’t you? Former Olympic gold medalist? Run a diving company now?” I felt the heat of embarrassment rise into me. Even to this day I still didn’t like all the attention that came with all that. I was however more relaxed about my situation. I didn’t think they were gonna harm me or the people I cared about now. I shook my head yes. “Well you see that’s why I wanted to talk to you again, why we didn’t just take the helmet. I want you to test our new suit, in fact, I think you’re more qualified than most of the people we’ve had testing it.” With this Chapman gave me an almost goofy smile. “That’s a very big honor sir, but I think I’m gonna have to pass. I gotta stay with my family. You know I have a newborn baby and everything. She requires my constant care.” “Mr. Toupula, it will only be for a few days. There are two diving sites we have in the Indian Ocean. We will pay for the whole trip, and give you a lot of extra money to for your time.” “Thanks but I really don’t need it.” “We know you do Mr. Tuoupola, we checked.” I looked down. He was right. Ever since the shark attack, I had been on a steady decline of customers and losing money. People were too scared now, even though it was incredibly rare. Also, I couldn’t lie to myself. Now that I knew it was truly part of a diving suit, my curiosity had been piqued. And I had been really bored for a long time. Finding that ship, was the most interesting thing to happen in my life since Faith had been born. “How much money?” I asked. Instantly Chapman reached into his pocket and pulled out a check. There was just enough light in the dimly lit warehouse to make out the numbers. A number that was seven digits. My eyes widened. This could change everything for me, my family, and my business. I was never good at hiding my emotions, and Chapman could pick that up. “I assume that’s going to be yes. But of course, you would have to never tell anyone about this. And I assume you haven’t told your wife yet right?” I shook my head no. “What about Nathan though?” I asked. He had already seen the helmet and knew my theory about it being connected to a larger diving suit. “Nathan has been told the truth and knows your offer. We know he has some diving experience, but we know that you are a much better diver than he is. He has been compensated for his silence, same as you.” I took a few seconds before giving him my final answer. I knew I couldn’t resist. “Alright, I’m in.” Chapman smiled once more. “Good, we’re leaving tomorrow. Meet us at the airport at 8 A.M. sharp. Your money will be given to you after the trip.” With that Chapman and his men began to walk out of the warehouse. “Wait? What will I tell my wife?” “That’s on you to decide,” Chapman called back as they all got into the SUV and drove off. I was now left standing alone. I looked around, making sure they hadn’t left me with someone who was gonna finish me off. These men were still suspicious, but the rational part of my brain told me if they were gonna get rid of me, they would have done it by now. So I stumbled out of the warehouse, and down the alley. Downtown was not as crowded as this time of night, but taxis were still running, usually for drunks. If I had my phone with me I would have just called an Uber, but I had left it in my car. When I finally got home, I spent most of the rest of the night checking my house for missing items. Luckily they had been gentle when they searched my house and didn’t make much of a mess. I wasn’t tired, as adrenaline was still pumping through my veins. And I couldn’t decide what to tell Lilly yet. I imagined they had tapped all my phones, but telling her the truth was stupid anyway. I spent the entire rest of the night awake, rolling around in bed and thinking of excuses. When I saw light creeping through my windows, I got up and began packing. I figured we would be going somewhere warm, like maybe a coral reef. So I packed warm clothing. Around 8 my adrenaline had worn off and I was starting to feel really tired. I took an hour-long nap and woke up at 9. Now was the moment I was dreading, the phone call I was gonna have to make. After drinking a lot of coffee and eating breakfast, I decided I had an explanation. So I called her. She answered right away. “Oh thank God, I was just about to call you? Is everything alright?” “Yes yes, it was just a false alarm. You and Faith should be fine to return to the house today.” “Oh good, I’ll make up a big breakfast for us. We can put on a good comedy too, something to destress. Maybe like The Proposal? Game Night?” “Lilly, I won’t be here.” “What?” I hesitated a bit before going on. I knew what I was about to say was very dangerous. “I have to come right out and apologize honey. I lied to you yesterday. The men yesterday were not some criminals. Uh, in fact, they were lawyers?” “Lawyers? What do they want with you?” “Remember Allan Fitzgerald? The guy who got attacked by a shark on my dive?” “Yes, but don’t your clients sign a waiver thought?” “They do, but clearly he still wants to try to sue me. I gotta fly to San Diego and take care of this.” “San Diego? You can’t just do this all over the phone?” “You know I can’t Lilly, especially not over something this bad. And I gotta fly out right now. It’ll only take three days though.” “I really don’t appreciate you lying to me about this, getting me all worked up. You know I barely got any sleep right last night right Sione?” “I know and I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you I swear. I just didn’t wanna get you all worried about it until I felt better about it all.” “It’s fine Sione, I forgive you. Just please don’t do something like this ever again.” “I won’t, I won’t. I need to go ahead and get going, gotta be at the airport by Ten.” “You think he’ll actually be able to screw you over with this?” “No, no. But I still feel horrible about it happening. I think maybe I can work something out to avoid all this trouble.” “Ok, good luck Sione.” “Thank you, and I love you.” “I love you too.” With that, I swiftly hung up the phone. Every lie that had come out of my mouth in that conversation stung me like a bad jellyfish. But I couldn’t get caught up on it. I cleaned up my breakfast, finished packing, shut down the house, and hit the road. I considered leaving my phone at the house, but I figured I might be able to talk Chapman into letting me keep it. I don’t know how he did it, but as soon as I arrived at our airport Chapman found me. I had taken an uber to the airport so I didn’t have to worry about leaving my car there, but Chapman said he would have paid for that. He seemed oddly friendly too now, but I still trusted him. As I expected, we loaded up into a private jet. It hadn’t been my first time in one, but it always felt weird to me. It was all white with pretty much no markings, and a beige interior. “So where are we going?” I asked as I sat down next to him. I didn’t see any of the men from the warehouse on the plane, it was just me and him. “Madagascar,” he simply replied. “Oh really? I’ve only been to Africa once, but I remember watching this great documentary on Madagascar once. Hopefully, we’ll get to see those weird Baobab trees.” “Sorry, Sione… You mind if I just call you Sione?” “Sure.” “We won’t, we’re going straight to the boat.” “Ahhh, maybe there are some around the coast?” “There isn’t, hate to break it to you.” Most of the flight was pretty quiet, as Chapman pulled out his laptop and began going through stuff I imagined I would get in trouble for looking at. I instead watched movies on the little tv they had. But the entire time, I was in a rush of different emotions. Excitement to try this suit out, but guilt and shame for lying to my wife. My mind also wondered about Chapman and the suit. Like everyone I had heard government conspiracies before, stuff like the Illuminati and such. But now I mostly thought about the conspiracies I had heard in my life surrounding Area 51. People often said it was a place of government test sites, somewhere to test out advanced weaponry. I had always thought that kind of stuff was stupid, but now I wondered how much of that was really true. The flight itself took about a day, and I fell asleep before we landed. “Wake up, we’re here,” I heard Chapman’s voice in my ear. I woke up to see that the plane was completely still now, and sitting on concrete. I had been so tired I must have slept through the landing. It made sense with how little sleep I got the night before. I got up and stretched my legs, my stomach rumbling. But my biggest worry was the long time I had gone without cell service. I pulled my phone out quickly. As I had expected, I had five missed calls and four texts from my wife. The first few phones were just asking if I had landed safely, then the following messages were filled with concern over me not answering. I typed a quick reply, noticing I had barely any service. *Sorry Lilly, I haven’t been on my phone much, these lawyers haven’t really left me alone. I won’t be able to be on my phone really during this trip, but I did land safely* I typed fast and sent the message, but Chapman still noticed. “What are you thinking? Bringing your phone here?” He said and snatched it out of my hand. “Look, my wife thinks I’m in San Diego dealing with some lawsuit. If I go dark…” “I know what you told your wife, but I still can’t risk you slipping up, or your phone being trapped. I’m sorry again, but I’m gonna have to get rid of this.” He stepped out onto the staircase and dropped the phone facedown. It fell for a few seconds before hitting the concrete with a loud *SMACK.* I cringed and looked at Chapman. “Hey man, couldn’t you have just shut it off and kept it yourself?” “That still wouldn’t stop it from being tracked if she really wanted it to be. We’ll get you a new phone, a better phone. Don’t worry about going dark either. We have someone in San Diego who is already gonna pose as a lawyer for your wife. He’ll explain you broke your phone and whatnot, and that you’re too busy to talk.” “You guys really do think of everything.” “Come on, we’re in a rush,” Chapman urged me as he headed out of the plane. I grabbed a bag of pretzels and a water bottle on the way out. Sitting at the bottom of the stairs leading down from the plane was an old grey Hummer. The driver of it looked American, and he was the only one in the car. But as I took a closer look, I recognized it as Greg. As soon as Chapman and I got in, we were speeding off from the airport. I wasn’t too mad about the phone, as I had everything backed up on it anyway. I was a little worried about his cover story for Lilly, as I wasn’t sure she would buy it On the way out of the airport and to the boat, we drove through an incredibly poor city. I had been to third-world countries before a few times. Three times I had taken a missionary trip down to Venezuela. No matter how many times I went seeing how these people in these countries lived always struck me with pain. At least on the missionary trips, I was there to help, but this time I was just here for a selfish reason. “Where are we? Is this the capital?” I finally spoke as I looked out of the window. “Mhm, Antananarivo. We landed at Ivato Airport. It shouldn’t be long before we’re at the coast.” A million questions ran through my mind, but I knew he wouldn’t answer most. I still asked one, however. One I wanted to ask earlier but didn’t. “Why uh did we fly all the way out here? Madagascar?” I said. I was sitting in the back but now looking directly ahead at Chapman, who was sitting in front of me. He answered quickly, like he had been prepared and waiting on the question. “This is gonna be a field test, it’s why I wanted you. There are two recently sunken cargo ships in the Indian Ocean. Sunken by pirates. Fortunately, they haven’t figured out how to get down there to get the precious cargo we need to recover. It’s a perfect job for us.” “Y’all don’t have guys for that? Like the SEALs right?” “We don’t think there will be any threat to us. The pirates who sunk it have abandoned the wreckage and we haven’t seen them in the waters around it for months.” I felt a jolt forward as Greg slammed on the brakes, and looked forward to see a group of kids running out into the street chasing a soccer ball. “This place is such a shithole, and all these people are too. Damn idiots who won’t hesitate to rob you blind,” the driver mumbled under his breath. Chapman raked him with a disappointed glare. “Hey, why don’t you show some respect to these people? They can’t help where they are,” Chapman snapped at him. The driver didn’t say anything for the rest of the ride. It took a little over an hour to get to the coast, and the drive was mostly jungle like I had expected. I did however see a few of those towering Baobab trees, so I guess Chapman had been wrong. At the coast, we arrived at a small village, one that was even poorer than the capital. The roads were mud, the shacks were falling apart. I only noticed one car, and it was broken down and without wheels. The only building that looked remotely in tact really was a grey brick building. It had a steeple and even a few stained-glass windows. I assumed it was a church, but didn’t see a cross on the steeple. The docks were in shambles, except for one. There were a few small fishing boats attached to it, and another much larger boat that I could easily tell would be the one we were taking. It was a large white yacht-looking boat, probably around a hundred feet or so. The dock it sat on was the longest one, and it still took up the entire side. I noticed a probably twenty-foot-long submarine attached to the side of it, and giant cranes holding it. I imagined these cranes were used to pick it up and drop it in the water. The side read *S.S. Santo*. Compared to everything around it, it was like a pearl in a pile of garbage. The locals of the village were all gathered around the front of the dock, blocking the entrance. I noticed several men on our ship looking down at them. “Park by that hut,” Chapman ordered Greg. He complied and shut the car off. There were four other identical Hummers by the hut also, which was next to the big dock. “You two stay in here for a second, I’m gonna see what’s going on,” he said and got out of the car, carrying a concerned look on his face. I waited till he had walked a good bit away from the car to talk to Greg. “Do you know what’s going on? Are they mad that we’re here?” I asked as I leaned forward to him. Greg chuckled before pulling out a cigarette. He rolled down the window and lit it, blowing the smoke out. With the window open I could hear the crowd mumbling loudly, but didn’t understand anything they were saying. The driver chuckled once more before talking. “Nah man, these freaks don’t give a shit that we’re here. Chapman gave them a lot of money, but they probably don’t know what to do with it anyway. He has been pretty charitable to this village, but I think that’s a lost cause if you ask me.” I didn’t like his disrespectful attitude, or the actions he had done to me the other night, but I was curious about the villagers. So I kept asking. As I intentionally stared at the crowd, I noticed something else, something that looked like a coffin that they were carrying to the edge of the dock. Chapman looked like he was trying to talk to one of them, but they were ignoring him. “Why?” “I think like two of the villagers here speak English. Bad English, but still English. And since my job is to stay here the whole time, I got bored and talked to them. They got some weird ass beliefs. See that coffin they’re carrying to the water? Well, they dump all their dead into the ocean. Because apparently when they do that, the dead still sings to them at night from it.” “Hmmm,” I simply replied. I watched as they reached the edge of the dock and tossed the coffin in. Next, they got on their knees. From this far away, I couldn’t hear if they were saying anything still, or just sitting in silence. Chapman had given up on talking to them and made his way up onto the boat. “So can we go now?” I asked Greg, who seemed to be lost in his own thoughts. I could feel the pressure in my bladder building and realized I hadn’t gone to the bathroom since the plane ride. “No, he’s probably clearing some shit up on the boat. They’re really weird about everything, he’ll probably want you to see no one else when you go on board.” “Well I gotta use the bathroom really bad, so I’m getting out.” “Do whatever you want, just don’t go mingling,” he replied. I got out of the car and scanned the village for anything that looked like a restaurant or somewhere with a bathroom. Of course, I didn’t wanna just barge into someone’s house, or pee on the side of the road. The only building that I thought may have somewhere public was the grey-bricked church, so I began walking in that direction. My feet made gross noises as they tracked through the wet mud, and the sneakers I had worn were quickly covered in it. I looked back one more time before stepping into the building and noticed Greg wasn’t even paying attention to me. He was watching the villager’s burial. The inside of the building, well it did look like a church too. There were pews and an altar at the front. I didn’t expect anyone to be in it because of the funeral-type event going on, and I was right. Being a religious person I thought this might be a chance to maybe meet an English-speaking villager, and ask him about Chapman and the others. I didn’t see any crosses or bibles or anything that resembled Christianity. The stained glass windows all had the same image. Some tall and skinny cloaked figure. You couldn’t see its body, face, or anything besides a pair of wide black wings that stuck out from behind them. The cloak too looked like it was almost meant to be water of some sort. My first thought was that maybe it was some weird depiction of an angel, but I had never seen one depicted like that before. *Maybe this isn’t a Christian church at all? But some other religion?* I wasn’t too familiar with Africa’s primary religion and considering prying a little bit. But I didn’t wanna get in any trouble and quickly brushed that urge away. I did find it very odd that a poor village like this would be able to afford such quality stained glass windows. The building was only one room, so I didn’t see a bathroom. I did however see a door by the altar and followed it out behind the building. There I found two outhouses and promptly used the guy’s one. The bathroom was no more than a giant hole in the ground and was one of the worst-smelling things I had ever experienced. I finished quickly and walked back to the building. When I went back inside, however, I found company. A very old hunched-over woman and three men. As soon as she saw me, she pointed her crooked finger at me and begin yelling rapidly. I threw my hands up and pleaded. “Hey, I was just using the bathroom.” They ignored me and the two men grabbed me roughly. I began to squirm back, but I wasn’t a very strong person myself. And these people felt surprisingly strong for being skinny. The woman continued to yell at me as they dragged me out of the building and into the street. This caught the attention of Greg, who jumped out of the Hummer. He quickly put his hand on his holstered pistol and began yelling at the villagers. “Hey let him go right now! I swear to God! Let him go!” He yelled over and over again. I was worried I had set off a chain of events, and Chapman, who had been standing on the boat’s deck, quickly noticed. He turned and said something to the man next to him, and quickly ran down from the dock. The people at the funeral didn’t even seem to acknowledge what was happening, as they just continued to sit on their knees and face the water. Chapman quickly sprinted over to us right as Greg pulled his pistol out and began to slowly lift it up. “I’m not gonna warn you again! Let him go or I will open fire!” “Hey! Put the gun down!” Chapman yelled at him, grabbing his arm and forcing it down. Greg complied and next Chapman was speaking to them quickly. He sounded almost fluent in their language. The old lady wobbled up to him, and they talked back and forth for about a minute. The entire time the men held me still. I didn’t see any weapons on them, so I didn’t know what they were gonna do with me. Chapman and the old lady’s conversation sounded intense, but they finally seemed to settle down. At last, the old lady looked to the men, said a single word, and they all let me go. I stepped forward and to Chapman. “You should have stayed in the truck,” he said to me solemnly. I could sense the disappointment in his voice. “I’m sorry, I had to use the bathroom. I didn’t know they were so sensitive.” “Well, now we’re gonna have to go early. Let’s go, Greg,” He said to him. His eyes darted back to the Hummer and then to Chapman rapidly. “But sir, the other guys aren’t here yet. If we just leave the cars here these people could seriously mess it up.” “It won’t be safe for any of us to be here now, I’m gonna call the other team off.” “Yes Sir.” Greg made sure to roll the window up before we left the car behind. When I went to pick up my bag in the backseat, Greg grabbed it from me. “Gotta make sure you got no contraband,” he said unzipping it. I sighed with frustration, stepping back. He went through it quickly and rezipped everything back up. I noticed the old women and those other men staring us down with icy gazes as made our way to the boat. But none of them tried to do anything. The other people who were on the deck had disappeared from it by the time we got up the ramp. “Ok Sione, I’m gonna take you to your room. It is very important that you do not leave this room the entire trip. If you do so, I’ll have to send you home early.” “I understand.” Greg headed off in another direction as Chapman lead me into the cabin and down a set of stairs. The inside was luxurious and looked like a yacht outfitted with military equipment and computers. I looked around to see if I could catch a glimpse of the suit, but didn’t see it. I didn’t take long for us to reach a dark oak hallway, where we stopped at a door. “Ok Sione, this is your room. Our first drop will be in probably around thirty minutes, as the first shipwreck isn’t that far off. Your roommate’s name is Jin Devi. Do not leave the room until I come back and get you,” He instructed me. I nodded and he knocked on the door, waited a few seconds, and opened it. The room was small, it contained a bunk bed, desk, small closet, and small bathroom. Laying down on the top bunk was a small Asian man. He was wearing headphones and working on what looked like a sudoku puzzle book. His music was so loud, and I could tell it was some sort of heavy metal. When he eyed us he took off his headphones and rolled over to face us. He was also wearing very thick-rimmed glasses. “Jin, this is your roommate Sione Tupoula. He is a former Olympic diver and will also be testing out the new suit on this journey.” Jin just gave me an awkward stare, and then hastily put his headphones back on. “Well I’ll be back shortly,” Chapman said and left the room, not seeming to want to stick around and deal with the awkward vibes.

I woke up and I wish I hadn’t.

y672x0

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y672x0/i_woke_up_and_i_wish_i_hadnt/

I woke up but it was different this time. There were no birds chirping or my soft down pillow under my head. My room didn’t greet me. Tall crumbling buildings that creaked with every whisper of wind did. With a swift movement, my feet were under me. Every sense on high alert. “Where am I…” Taking a few tentative steps forward, I was standing in the middle of a now abandoned intersection. It was silent. Too silent. The only sign of life was my own heart beat vibrating my ear drums and the crunch of my last step echoing down the streets. “Honey? Is that you?” Whipping my head to the side, there he stood. My dad. The man who raised me. Standing in the shadows. Wearing his favorite teams jersey and his khaki shorts with the matching typical dad shoes that he was buried in 8 years ago. “D-dad? Am I dreaming?” Tears stung my eyes as my feet carried me towards him with speeds I didn’t know I could reach. Crashing into him, the warmth I expected wasn’t there. “Dad where are we?” “I’m not sure.” He said, stroking my hair with a deep breath. “I just know there’s a path down behind me that I followed here. Where I found you.” Taking me hand he started to show take me down the street away from the open street. Before us was an alley way. The end of it was unnaturally dark. A dark that makes your legs stiffen up. The dark you saw in your closet as a child. “No. Dad stop. Somethings wrong.” He ignored me. His grip tightening on my wrist making me cry out. “DAD STOP!! YOU’RE HURTING ME!!” Digging my heals into the cracks of the street, I tried to fight my way out of his grip but his grip wasn’t normal. Wasn’t…human. “Shut up and keep moving.” He growled at me in a voice that most definitely wasn’t his. I had to get away. Quickly thinking, I saw a fire escape coming up to our left. I forced myself to relax which in turned made it relax it’s grip on me. 5 more steps…4 more…3…2..1! Jolting to my left, I ripped my hand from its grip and jumped. The rust of the ladder bit into my palms as adrenaline pulsed through me. An ungodly inhumane noise rippled through the stagnant air. “NO! YOU’RE NOT ALLOWED TO LEAVE” Searing pain surged through my calf as I heard my skin then my muscles rip causing me to loose my grip. My stomach crashed into the ground causing any debris under me to embed itself into my flesh. It flipped me onto my back, my once short plump dad was now towering over me. All his limbs stretched and contorted like he had no bones. His warm smile replaced by a gaping hole of rows and rows of teeth that spun like blender. “You can’t leave here…” lurching forward his teeth came in-contact with my chest, drilling in. Lurching up in bed, the restraints kept me down. A bright light blinded me. “Shit she’s awake! Nurse! More anesthesia! We aren’t done!” My eyes darted to the lady next to me then down at my chest, my heart beating in the doctors hand. “You can’t leave here…” I woke up and I wish I hadn’t.

Fata Morgana is NOT an Illusion

y5lhz4

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y5lhz4/fata_morgana_is_not_an_illusion/

Have you ever heard of Fata Morgana? It's an optical illusion similar to a desert mirage. The most common form of it is seen on the surface of the ocean - making it appear as if boats are hovering a few yards above the water, seen from a distance during the proper conditions. But there's another version of Fata Morgana which is much more rare. If you do a quick internet search for "Fata Morgana cities" you'll find some very surreal images. Cities which seem to float high above us, perched precariously on the clouds, like a modern Mount Olympus. The pictures look fake, but they are verified to be real. There’s even video footage of these events. When people saw this illusion in China and in other places they gasped and whispered fearfully amongst themselves. Some even fainted or fell to their knees and prayed, thinking the end of the world was upon them - that these were the angels of heaven, and the cities of God, coming to announce the end of days. But as always those pesky scientists were there to scoff and say, "No, that isn't real - it's just an optical illusion." Fata Morgana, they called it. That was the official explanation for the cities in the sky which disappeared just as quickly as they arrived. But those scientists didn't see it up close like we did. There's a whole plane full of people who will tell you - the cities in the sky are real. They're no illusion. * I was on a trip to Asia when this all happened. We were flying over Jiangxi when suddenly something appeared in the clouds before our eyes. If not for the fact that I was looking out the window at that exact moment, I wouldn’t have seen it. But as it happens I was wide awake and admiring the view when the city appeared. The buildings resting on the clouds were dark and shimmering - almost exact replicas of the city far down below. Except we shouldn’t have been able to see them from where we were. The optical illusion of Fata Morgana can’t be viewed from within the image itself - it should have been impossible for us to see what we were seeing. But I wasn’t alone. We all saw it. When I looked around the cabin of the airplane I saw dozens of other passengers staring and pointing at the city in the sky as we flew through its mysterious borders, entering the surreal space that shouldn't exist. And then people began to scream. The airplane suddenly tilted half-sideways as the pilot steered quickly to avoid something - I imagined a building shimmering and materializing in front of the airplane at the last second, like a mountain coming into focus during a snowstorm. Everyone on the packed airplane began to scream after that, as overhead luggage broke free from the compartments and began to rain down, injuring several passengers. A woman who had been sitting across the aisle from me fell down onto the floor and I tried to help her up, but then the plane’s axis tilted again and I was thrown hard into the window. I turned around and was startled to see a hairline crack forming across it. But something even more terrifying caught my eye as I stared at the glass. Outside, there were creatures flying in the air. They looked like pterodactyls soaring between the massive black buildings. One of them landed on the wing, causing the craft to tilt and veer off course again. People screamed and shouted as they were thrown from their seats and luggage came crashing out of the overhead compartments once again, emptying them out of whatever was left inside. The creature on the wing of the plane began to skitter-crawl towards my window and I saw its eyes were hollow black sockets. Its maw was like a giant beak made of shadow, full of liquid black teeth. It scrambled rapidly across the wing, heading in my direction, and I could have sworn it was looking straight at me with its dead, empty eyes. That broke me out of my silent terror and I started screaming, pointing at the window as other passengers turned to look. Soon there was a small crowd forming around my seat, staring out at the horrible thing on the wing as it approached the window and began to scratch and claw and bash its face against the glass. I had never seen anything so desperate and insane, as if it had no purpose except to attack and to maim. A few seconds later there were more of them, fighting with each other as they tried to get in. I saw they had long tails with triangle-shaped points at the end, like demons sent from hell. Or, I realized, maybe that's where we were. Had we died in a fiery explosion without any of us realizing it? Was this just a grim, horrible afterlife which we were now destined to reside within for eternity? No, I refused to believe it. I refused to give myself to this place. I shook off that horrible idea and glanced back out the window, hoping it had changed and we were back on Earth again, in the real world. But no. The shimmering black buildings outside were so close now that I felt like I could see inside of them, if not for the fact that they were opaque. Whatever was inside was not meant to be seen by us, and I realized that was probably for the best. If these creatures were the birds of this hellish mirror-world, I was scared to see what their people might look like. I began to suspect we had crossed over into an alternate dimension somehow, and I wasn’t sure if we would ever be able to escape. Was this what happened to mysterious planes that went missing in the skies - over the Bermuda Triangle and in a handful of other places? I had heard of those events, but like everyone else I just assumed they were planes with mechanical failures, or drunk and irresponsible pilots, sleeping at the wheel. Turbulence and stormy weather, birds sucked into the engines or hurricanes with hail the size of golfballs - there were a thousand potential reasons for a plane to go down. Who would have thought that alternate dimensions could be responsible? I was snapped from my thoughts as suddenly the glass shattered and the plane lost cabin pressure. Alarms were suddenly blaring and the lights were flickering in the cabin as oxygen masks fell from the ceiling. People grabbed for them desperately as the creature began to squeeze its way into the plane through the window. Like a cat going through a chainlink fence it sucked in its gut and its wings flattened down as it began to claw and scratch its way inside. Meanwhile I was still desperately trying to snag one of the available oxygen masks. Since most people had been thrown from their seats, myself included, that was no easy task. The wind was rushing and whipping throughout the cabin, making it difficult to do much of anything. I scrambled over a nearby seat and reached for one available mask, just as an older man was about to take it for herself. I left it for him without a second thought. The other ones nearby were also being used, I saw, and began to panic. Looking around desperately, the air becoming too thin to breathe, I finally spotted a handful of unused oxygen masks near the front of the economy section. I was halfway towards the back of the plane and there were people in the aisles blocking my path, but I knew that I had to get up there. Like a game of musical chairs, there were only so many oxygen masks to go around on this packed flight, and I was seriously at risk of being the only one left standing when the music stopped. Lurching forward, I stumbled over injured people laying in the aisles, stepping over them awkwardly and feeling dizzy from lack of oxygen. I looked back to see the creature was inside the plane now, and for some reason it had its dead eyes fixed on me. It raced towards me, its horrible limbs leaving black, inky stains on the seats as it raked them with its claws. The world was spinning and I was getting a terrible headache as my breathing quickened, my lungs desperate for air. I fell over, unable to keep my balance, and began to crawl towards the front of the plane, my vision fading in and out. At one point I must have blacked out, because I woke up to the thing on top of me, snapping its liquid black jaws just inches from my face. Screaming, I reached up to push it away, only to find that my hands sunk into the thing like molasses. It was tenacious and sticky, binding to my skin and refusing to let go. "Die you fucking hell spawn!" A man's muffled voice yelled, and I looked up to see a guy wearing an oxygen mask, holding a heavy-looking piece of luggage over his head with both hands. He threw it at the creature and I recoiled, worried that it would crash right through the oily black creature and would land right on me. The heavy suitcase did just what I expected and slammed into the thing, splashing it in every direction like a water balloon being destroyed by a sledgehammer. The luggage landed on my gut, knocking the wind out of me and fracturing three ribs in the process. But luckily for us it took care of the creature. I was still covered in its sticky black goo, but at least it wasn't about to eat me anymore, and for that I was grateful. I stood up on shaking legs to thank the man for saving me, then doubled over in pain. My ribs were screaming at me with each breath I took and my vision was going dark from a total lack of oxygen. The contents of the plane were still whipping around in the air of the cabin as the alarms sounded and I heard the captain saying something about an emergency landing. And then everything went dark and I passed out again, this time staying unconscious until after we landed. * I woke up in a Chinese hospital. According to the official reports, none of what I've told you actually happened. They covered the whole thing up, as if it never occurred. We tried to tell them the truth - me and several of the other passengers have kept in touch over the years and we've all tried to get our story out there. Unfortunately, no one will believe us. The official reports contradict us at every step. The media won't even listen to our story, and I can't blame them really. Fata Morgana, they tell us. It was Fata Morgana and nothing more. But I know what I saw. I know where we've been. Hell is real, and it's waiting for us in the [clouds.](https://www.reddit.com/r/JGcreepypastas/comments/raq7ay/all_stories_20212022/?utm_medium=android_app&utm_source=share) [MAD](https://www.reddit.com/r/MidnightAllDay?utm_medium=android_app&utm_source=share) [TCC](https://www.reddit.com/r/TheCrypticCompendium?utm_medium=android_app&utm_source=share) [YT](https://youtu.be/rHcK2TpBeG4)

Deadhead

y6b53i

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y6b53i/deadhead/

Sometimes cutting the head off is not enough. I know that now. Back then, I had no idea. My marriage had collapsed, and my career was imploding, and I couldn’t sleep. I’d get thirty minutes here, thirty minutes there, then *bang* I was awake and staring into the darkness. Or I would lie there all night without a wink of sleep, and it would start to go light, and the next thing I knew my alarm was going off and my heart was racing. I’d fallen asleep a few minutes before I needed to wake up. It was cruel. And it was beyond exhausting. The world felt blurred, and I was slow and clumsy. This made work worse. My decision making was way off, and, though I was upset, I wasn’t that surprised when I was called into my manager’s office and told I was being suspended. It was all done above board. There was someone from HR there and a union rep, and, apparently, I’d been sent the meeting request more than once and asked to submit a written statement, but I was in such a daze I had not picked up on any of this. My manager seemed kind of sad when he was giving me the bad news, and afterwards he offered to walk me out to my car. When we were on our own, he told me I should try and look after myself. That, I should do something healthy. Then he wished me good luck and shook my hand. Which made the whole thing feel like a goodbye rather than a blip which could be got over. As I drove away from the office, I did not think I would ever be going back. Sitting in my apartment in the middle of the day on a weekday felt weird but also kind of nice. It was like a cloud had been lifted and I must admit I cried a couple of times. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d done that. I knew I needed to tighten my belt financially, but I decided to treat myself, so ordered in a pizza. Extra-large with all the toppings. Then I settled down with my new best friend, daytime TV. About eleven pm I started to feel sleepy and thought I would be able to sleep. Just a few uninterrupted hours would be amazing, I thought, as I dragged myself off the sofa and went to clean my teeth. I put on fresh bedding, aired out the room, and lay down, closed my eyes. *Bang*! It wasn’t even midnight, and I was wide awake – and shattered. I tried to get comfortable, but it was no use. My insomnia was no better. I gave up and went into the living room and put the tv back on. Someone was selling jewellery at low low prices. The next day I didn’t get dressed. I just sat there. I had cold pizza for breakfast and, if I had had any alcohol in the apartment, I think I would have drunk it. This was bad, and I knew it, but I didn’t have the energy to do anything about it but slouch on the sofa watching tv – until it fell dark, and the prospect of another sleepless night began to press down on me. I couldn’t face it. I really couldn’t. I started to feel panicky. I found it hard to swallow and then to breathe. I thought I was going to suffocate and die, and I couldn’t even phone for help because I wouldn’t be able to speak. Then a gardening programme started on tv – and I know how stupid this might sound, but I was fine. A man was walking along a path surrounded by plants. They overhung and they bloomed and they shone. It all seemed so lovely and peaceful. And my breathing, and the rest, was back to normal. It was as simple as that. I spent the rest of the night watching the box set of the whole series, and in the morning I decided I needed a garden in my life. I walked over to the window and looked down at the busy road running past the front of my apartment block, and at the windowsill, which could have maybe fitted two very small plant pots. This was my first challenge. I needed a plot of land where I could do my gardening. I went online and started searching for ‘gardens for hire’. One of the results was ‘allotments’. I’d heard the word before but knew next to nothing other than that they were a small area of land for growing plants on. It’s all very British. Over the next few hours, I drilled into the details. It was a whole new world, and at first sounded ideal – but it turned out it wasn’t a world for me. Allotments needed to be leased from private or public authority landlords, and it looked like all the allotments across the city were taken. And there were hundreds of people on the waiting lists to take over allotments when they became available. I closed the lid of my laptop harder than was good for it and decided I needed some fresh air. I pulled on my coat and headed out. The early winter day was clear and cold. A breeze was whipping leaves into the air. Traffic rushed past me, and other people out on foot did the same. It seemed everyone but me had somewhere they needed to be. I sighed and set off walking. I had no destination in mind. I passed a coffee shop I had not been to in ages, an independent cinema I used to go to with my wife in better days, and the empty shell of a bookshop. I loved browsing there before it closed down. I passed a place that sold second hand cars, a bar with steel shutters pulled down over the windows. A couple of men stood in its doorway smoking. A stereo in a car parked on a street corner pounded out a bass beat. Close by, a burnt-out car had been abandoned in the middle of the road. I’d drifted into an area I’d never been too before – one that had clearly seen better days – and I figured I should probably head back to familiar territory. Maybe call into that coffee shop. I was about to turn around when I saw the plot of land. It was in-between a derelict building and a pile of rubble. It was about twelve feet long and eight feet wide and it was covered in weeds. Without thinking what I was doing I walked over to it. The weeds were all tangled together, a riot of straggly stalks. I had no idea what they were. The gardening show on tv had been big on showing captions with Latin names on. But these were a mystery to me, and I was wondering why I had been drawn to this patch of waste ground in the wrong side of town, when I saw the strip of dark red almost hidden amongst the weeds. I knelt down. It was a flower. It was long and slim. Kind of tube-shaped with the top of the petals gathered to form a small opening. I had never seen anything like it before. It was beautiful. The stalk below the flower was striking for different reasons. It was curved, light green, and was covered in small thorns. They looked very sharp. I got to my feet. Looked at the plot of land. And smiled. I had found my garden. After making sure my phone could show me the way back, I set off for home. The coffee shop would have to wait. I was bursting with ideas and questions, and I needed my trusty laptop and the net. One practicality which had occurred to me was, what if someone owned the plot of land? Sure, it didn’t look like it, but perhaps a developer did, and they were planning on building on and around it. Gentrification was still all the rage. Back at home, I started to search. I remembered that the nearest street sign to the plot I had seen was for Ashburn Road and so I began with that as my search term. The results immediately threw up something unexpected. Something gruesome. The news website raced through the details: *A man’s body was found on waste ground near Ashburn Road this morning by a passer-by, who alerted emergency services. Responding paramedics pronounced the man dead. Unconfirmed reports say that the man’s skin was pierced in a number of places and he had significant blood loss. A police spokesperson said there were as yet no suspects in this case.* I stopped reading there. This was way too dark for me. I went back to my search and did not find any reason I should not use the land as a garden. No one seemed to own it and, from the date on the news story, the killing had taken place a couple of months before, so it wasn’t like it was still a crime scene. That was it then. I was a man on a mission. The next morning, I went to a hardware store and bought secateurs and a trowel for cutting and digging and clearing away. I also bought lots of little packets of seeds. I did not know what would grow there, but I figured if I scattered and planted enough seeds in the ground, something would flourish. With a spring in my step that had not been there before, I set off for the plot of land. When I got there, I laid my new purchases out in a line by edge of the plot. Then I spotted that there was a second flowering plant close to the first, and decided to begin by clearing space around them. Carefully snipping away the weeds with the secateurs, I whistled tunelessly to myself. There was a strong breeze, which felt fresh against my skin. It all felt good. It was therapeutic. After an hour or so both the flowering plants were free of their plain neighbours, and the flowers and the stalks swayed in the wind. I was transfixed. I reached out to touch the petals of one of them – and winced. A swaying thorn had caught my skin, right on the end of the middle finger of my right hand. Blood seeped out. I rummaged around in my pockets and found a tissue – which didn’t look very clean, but I wrapped it around my finger anyway. It was stinging quite badly by now. “Dangerous business this gardening,” I said to myself, and laughed. It had been a while since I had laughed like that – and a while since I had done any physical labour. As I straightened up, I felt a twinge of pain in my back. With the tissue in my right hand, I put my left hand against my back, and pulled a face. That was how I was standing when the old man appeared. He came striding out of nowhere. “You shouldn’t be here,” he shouted. He had a few wisps of hair on his head, and plenty in his nose and ears, and his cheeks were a patchwork of broken veins. Even though he had come to a halt a good few feet away, I could smell alcohol on his breath. He scowled and yelled, “You need to leave, and leave now!” Just great, I thought. “Get out of here!” he screamed. Being shouted at was spoiling what had been a good day up till then, so, being careful not to step on any of the flowers, I gathered up my things and walked away. I glanced back once, and the old man was gone. “Good riddance,” I said under my breath. Back at home I made a warming bowl of soup and settled back down in front of my laptop. The browser was still open on the same page of the news site, and I noticed a link to a related story: *Disgraced academic claims Ashburn Road killer was something very strange* Talk about click bait! I clicked and started to read. *A former history professor at the city’s university has been contacting the police and local news media claiming that the man found dead suffered a very unusual fate. The professor, who was fired from his teaching position for unprofessional behaviour, is insisting that he fought and killed a vampire on the plot of ground near Ashburn Road and that its ashes, which he buried on the spot, have led to the victim’s death.* I stopped reading, my attention having been drawn to a photograph of the professor accompanying the lurid text. He had a bit more hair on his head and less sprouting out of his nose and ears and his cheeks were not such a mess, but it was clearly the old man who’d shouted at me earlier. It’s a shame, I thought. This individual clearly had serious issues. Well, I had my own problems to deal with, and with any luck I wouldn’t see him again. I checked the time. It was only three o’clock and I decided to go back to the plot. I could hopefully get in another hour of gardening before it went fully dark. Maybe scatter my first lot of seeds. My good mood fully back in place I walked back to the plot. The winter sky was already showing swathes of red by the time I arrived, and I got busy emptying a packet of seeds onto the ground as dusk started to fall. I was still doing this when I saw him again. My heart sank. He was walking towards me, and again ground to a halt well clear of the plot of land, but close enough for me to smell that he reeked of booze. I counted to ten and said in what I hoped was a reasonable tone of voice, “Will you please just leave me alone. I’ve read about you and what you claim happened and frankly…” He didn’t let me finish. His voice was raised and his words rushed out, almost tumbling over each other when he spoke: “I know what I’m talking about. I just find everything so difficult since I fought the vampire. I had a breakdown afterwards and I’ve been drinking, but I thought I could recover, because the danger was gone. But then I realised it wasn’t. The danger is still here, but it has changed. It’s the plants now. The flowering ones. They fed on the soil where you’re standing, where I buried the ashes of the vampire, and they were corrupted by the evil still held in his remains. The plants have developed a taste for blood.” As he spoke his eyes shone with what looked to me like insanity. Horrified, I glanced away… and remembered the man who had died here. Unbidden, it came back to me. How he was found on the ground. His skin pierced. With significant blood loss, the story had said. And I thought, No, it can’t be true what the old man was saying. There had to be a reasoned explanation. But what was it? I needed to think. I took a step backwards – then pain shot through my leg. I looked down. I’d snagged a trouser leg on one of the plants. Some of its thorns had cut through the fabric and dug into my flesh. Its slender flower pointed upwards – Almost as if it was looking at me, I thought, and a wave of panic rushed through my body. The old man had not moved and this time when he spoke his voice was quieter but still urgent. “You need to deadhead it,” he said. “Remove the flower and the body should wither. You need to do it now.” I was starting to feel nauseous, and the pain from the thorns was agonising. It felt like they were digging in deeper. A part of me knew that I was panicking. That panic was spirally into fear. And that my imagination must be overturning reason. But there was nothing I could do about it. Fear had reduced me to this. “Please help me,” I said, hating how pathetic I sounded. The old man was shaking his head. “It’s dangerous,” he said. “So dangerous to go close. That’s why I don’t you see. Why I don’t cut the heads off.” “Please,” I begged. He sighed deeply and finally moved towards me. He took a pocket knife out and slid it open. His hands were shaking badly, and I was worried he might accidently cut me, but, with a sudden slice, he cut the flower off. Then he hurried back to where he had been standing before. A dark patch was appearing on the front of his trousers. I don’t know why but the thorns did not feel to be pressing in as badly now. Something had eased, and I managed to extricate myself. The old man was leaving by now, he was running, stumbling as he went, and shaking his head. I stood there shivering for a long time then went to get my secateurs. There was the one other plant in flower – but it wouldn’t be for long. Crazy or not, I would follow the old man’s advice. I deadheaded the plant. And that’s where I’m at. I’m standing in the plot of land. Gripping the secateurs tight. The wind has died down completely, the air is still, and dusk is a memory. I’m not like the old man, I’m telling myself. I’m not going to run away. I’m going to be calm. Think rationally. I mean, a vampire and plants with a thirst for blood. That’s all nonsense – isn’t it? Only… the plant I just deadheaded is still swaying and its thorns look like fangs in the dark, lonely night.

That time my imaginary friends came to life (Part 1)

y6l9nz

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y6l9nz/that_time_my_imaginary_friends_came_to_life_part_1/

When I was about 11 years old, I was quite weird. I had imaginary friends that actually mimicked voices in my head, and visited me in my dreams. I would talk about how they spoke, and their personalities. This got me bullied, a lot. For clarity, ever since I was 8 years old I was bullied for this reason. This bullying went from being called names and picked on occasionally, to being a complete outlier and coming home with bruises. Oh yeah, I almost forgot to mention my “friends”. My first one I liked to call Mr. Star, and he wore a suit and tie, like a celebrity star. Despite wearing such formal attire, he was often informal, since being made at a young age. My second one was named Quiz, and made when I was 8. She was actually not even humanoid, and took the appearance of a crow with nerdy glasses. Quiz would actually be pretty important to my development, as she would encourage me to do my homework and study when no one else did. My last one I made last, and his name was Mr. Smirks. He took the appearance of a short furry creature, that looked like a cat if it could stand. Mr. Smirks was the one that wasn’t the best influence. He would encourage behaviors like acting up at the dinner table, and would get me to do dangerous activities, like playing with fire. Mr. Smirks was any mother's nightmare, especially with me almost burning my entire closet under his influence. My bullying peaked in early high school, specifically 9th grade. Ah yes, the BEST years of our lives! At least that's what they all said. Now, by high school, I had changed plenty, and learned to keep my mouth shut. My bullies were almost stereotypical in nature, using words like "Loser" and throwing spitballs. You know, the casual school bullies. By now, I had also forgotten about my "mind-mates", as I liked to call them. That didn't stop the bullying though; not by a long shot. One incident, on one unlucky day, had changed my life forever. I was walking by my locker, and had bumped into one of my bullies on accident, though I made a point not to be in the same location as them. "What the hell?" My bully had tried picking a fight with me, as many times before he had. As he was pushing me and yelling obscenities, I tried pushing him back. His big frame stopped me from doing so, however. He grabbed one of my textbooks from me and tried to swing it at me. I had dodged it though, and he had gotten even more furious. As he stomps towards me, one of his many friends had secured me in a chokehold and was ready to humiliate me in front of the entire school. As he readied his hand for a long day of punching, a voice had spoke to me, and I had seen only the solid color of red. "Kill. Him." I gouged the eyes of the guy choking me, and pushed him into my previous position. As he got punched by the other bully, I grabbed the pen I had in my shirt's pocket and stabbed the bully with it. While he did block it with his arms, he was still bleeding plenty. Soon enough, the school's security guard who hadn't taken a PT test in at least a year, had pulled his taser and ordered me to freeze and stand down. Of course I did what he told me to do. What was I going to do? Make a last stand over something little like this? After I was handcuffed and thrown into one of the chairs in the principal's office, the principal had given me the rundown. "Do you know how much trouble you're in? Those kids have to go to the hospital now because of YOU." I had laughed. I don't know how I found humor in it, and I never found humor in such a topic before. Today, however, was just different. I was turning into a monster, and it was clear that everyone was noticing. Despite how menacing I had became, I was terrified of what I was becoming, and what my future was going to be like. What would my family think of me after this event? What would my future be with a broken record? Somehow, I had gotten out of that situation scot-free. When I got home, I had received an anonymous letter from an old friend. I opened it up, and was greeted with a small piece of paper. It had only said: “Again the devil took him to a very high mountain and showed him all the kingdoms of the world and their splendor. - Matthew 4:8” I don't know who had sent me that letter, why they sent me it, and with everything going on that day, it had honestly scared me. Later that night though, everything became clear as day; my "mind-mates" were coming back, and nobody was ready for them. "Hello, Old Friend."

We had an unexpected lockdown drill today. I now know it wasn't a drill.

y5vy21

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y5vy21/we_had_an_unexpected_lockdown_drill_today_i_now/

I go to a fairly regular middle school. It's a bit shitty-the paint is peeling in some spots, the asphalt is badly cracked, and the tables are covered in doodles and gum- but I don't consider it to be ghetto, as many others do. The school's about as good as it can get when you're in the middle of rural Colorado. It was on this particular day, October tenth, that everything took a turn. We were usually informed before a lockdown drill, but we weren't this time. I was in my first period choir class when it happened, around 9:28. We all huddled together in one of the tight storage rooms, surrounded by instrument cases and disassembled drum sets. The longest lockdown drill we had ever had was about 25 minutes long. It was around 9:48, 20 minutes into the lockdown, that we began to worry. But we thought that the officers were just stuck in traffic. Police officers had to come to the school, even if it was just a drill. We waited in there until the clock struck 10:00. This was when we began to silently panick. There was no way the traffic was that bad, especially considering that it was 10:00 o'clock on a Monday, and the nearest police station was only about three miles away. At 10:21, nearly an hour into the lockdown, the police finally arrived. But we soon realized that it wasn't actually the police. The men wore black vests with a strange symbol. The symbol was three triangles. One red, one white, and one blue. They all touched corners, forming a larger triangle with an empty space in the middle. They didn't enter the school either, like the police usually did. One lifted a piece of plywood, while the other held a hammer and several nails. They were barricading the school. As the clock hit 10:34, the hammering stopped. But the sound that began wasn't any better. An ungodly screech blared from down the hallway. It sounded nothing like any animal I had ever heard in my life. No deer, bear, mountain lion, or coyote I had ever faced produced a sound nearly as haunting. It sounded like something straight from the fiery pits of hell. Several minutes later, the creature that had produced the sound began pounding on the door of the drama room, which was directly next door. It took only three hits to break down the door. As it began to massacre every living thing in that room, our teacher quickly led us out of ours. He wanted to get us as far away from the thing as possible. We were able to find our way into the seventh grade hallway, with nothing more than our phone's flashlights to lead us. After no more than ten steps on the smooth floors of the hallway, we heard a wet noise, if that makes sense. Each step we took, we were stepping through a pool of unknown goop and liquid. Several flashlights pointed downward, and that's when I saw it. We had been walking through blood. The goop we had felt was partially chewed human flesh and organs. About five students audibly gagged, and two vomited right then and there. We took just three more steps through the pile of blood and fresh vomit when a loud chewing sound came from behind us. I spun around instantly and pointed my flashlight down the darkened hall. That was when I finally saw the creature that had been terrorizing our school for an hour and a half. It was a quadriped beast that was larger than a lion. It had black fur, but the blood made the majority of it red. Its mouth opened wide in multiple directions, similar to the mouth of Predator. It was chewing on the severed leg of a student while lying in a puddle of human blood. It didn't take long for the beast to notice us, and it soon stood up and began to sprint towards us. We instantly ran for our lives. Two students slipped in the blood and couldn't get back up in time, which gave the rest of us several minutes to get away. We were able to make it into the 7th grade social studies room, and we barricaded the door with tables and chairs. We're currently trapped in this room. It's just past midnight, and my phone doesn't have much charge left. If this message reaches anybody on the outside, send help. Send help to Cleveland Middle School. We're running out of time.

I've had a stalker for two months. He just told me my boyfriend isn't who I think he is (pt 3).

y5qa4d

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y5qa4d/ive_had_a_stalker_for_two_months_he_just_told_me/

[Part one](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y1vlcq/ive_had_a_stalker_for_two_months_he_just_told_me/) [Part two](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y2rbf4/ive_had_a_stalker_for_two_months_he_just_told_me/) \------ I stared blankly at my phone screen, now covered in texts from Jacob, and wondered what my next step should be. What’s the point of taking a next step anyway, now that I know what Jacob is and that he could find me wherever I go? I realized then that he was probably nearby, stalking me through a window or peeking around a bush, but I didn’t feel his presence. I know that sounds kind of strange, but I feel like if he was nearby I would feel his gaze, and I didn’t feel anything other than the normal anxiety I had while talking to Chris. “Lily,” Chris said, snapping me out of my own thoughts and back into reality. “What did he say?” “He said he can find me whenever he wants. I think he knows I’m with you,” I responded, turning my phone screen to him so he could read the texts. “Shit, Lily. I had a feeling we were out for too long. How long do your runs usually last?” “I’m not sure. Not as long as we’ve been sitting together, I know that. It’s been a little over an hour.” Chris could sense that I was getting anxious and who wouldn’t? The man that I thought was stalking me was actually after Jacob, and now Jacob is targeting me. “Ok, you’re not gonna like what I’m about to tell you, but there really is only one way to fix this…” I didn’t like the tone Chris had when he said this. What are we gonna do, kill him? “We’re gonna have to… We’re gonna have to kill him, but don’t freak out quite yet.” Kind of too late to tell me that. “Because he’s a darklighter, we have to ‘vanquish’ him. It’s hard to explain,” “You’re gonna have to try because I’m not too fond of the idea of killing my boyfriend.” “I know, I get it,” he continued, seemingly empathetic to my situation. “Basically, darklighters have crossbows that they use to kill whitelighters. They have a poison that slowly drains them of their power, and then their lives, but they aren’t invulnerable to these arrows. It works on them the same way it does whitelighters. The only issue is that it’s hard to get the crossbow away from them.” At this point, I could already tell where this was going. “You’re gonna have to be the one to take the crossbow away from him, and the only way to do that is to make sure he knows I’m around.” “So, you want me to risk my life and yours to get this crossbow?” “Not yours. Although he’s been corrupted, I don’t think he would hurt you. Not quite yet.” “So we’re limited on time?” “Yes, which is why I think we’ll need to do this today.” Chris and I sat for a little while longer and devised a plan. Basically, it goes like this: I’d bring Chris into the apartment, and we assumed that Jacob would try to kill him with his crossbow. Apparently, these whitelighters can “orb” in and out of places, basically like teleportation, so he’d orb behind Jacob and restrict him while I get the crossbow. I’d shoot him, and Chris would heal his body while the darklighter powers die off, leaving him to be completely human, since his whitelighter powers can’t be restored with this method. After fully developing this plan, we headed towards the apartment and I texted Jacob, telling him that I had stopped somewhere to grab a bite to eat. I knew deep down that he knew I was lying, but I didn’t really have any other choice. I couldn’t let him know anymore than he could probably assume. Despite Chris trying to calm my nerves, I couldn’t think straight and my anxiety was through the roof. *What if he doesn’t live through it? What if Chris has been lying to me this whole time?* My worries wouldn’t stop running through my head until we arrived at the apartment. At that point, stressing about possible outcomes would just distract me. Chris had to talk me through unlocking my front door, trying to calm my nerves, but nothing would help me settle down. I just had to push myself to do what I needed to do, so I unlocked the door. All I saw when I walked through the door was the back of Jacob’s head slightly above the back of the couch, facing the apartment window. Did he not hear me come in? “Hey, Jacob, I’m back. Sorry I was out for so long,” I called out to him, attempting to sound calm and normal. I’m not sure if I succeeded, but either way he didn’t budge. “Hey, Lily. I was wondering what took you so long.” I knew it was him talking, but from how still his head was, it was like I was talking to a doll. Something was wrong, and I felt like he knew what was about to go down. “What have you been doing since I left?” I asked Jacob, Chris walking slowly behind me. “Just relaxing, watching the city from the window. I assume you didn’t see your stalker today?” “Nope, actually. Doesn’t mean he didn’t see me though,” I said with a fake chuckle. Still no sign that he’d caught on to what was going on. Before I could ask Jacob another question, I heard Chris cough behind me. I turned around to give him a look, and I noticed a small smirk on his face. I’m not sure if he did that on purpose or if it truly was an accident, but it caught Jacob’s attention either way. He sprung up from the couch, his crossbow already loaded, and pointed it at Chris. In not even the blink of an eye, Chris disappeared from my side and orbed right behind Jacob, holding back his arms and making him drop the crossbow. Chris couldn’t get a word out with Jacob struggling in his grasp, but he was watching me, waiting for me to grab the crossbow and follow through with the plan. I leaned over, picked it up, and held it to Jacob’s chest. Chris told me to aim it towards his heart, since that was the best way to make sure that his darklighter powers would truly be vanquished. I felt like I could trust him, but I knew that I wouldn’t be able to shoot Jacob in the heart without feeling immense guilt, even if Chris did fully heal him. Against my better judgment, I still aimed it at his chest, closing my eyes and pulling the trigger. I heard not one, but two agonizing screams come from across the living room, and opened my eyes. Both Chris and Jacob were lying on the floor, holding their wounds and crying in pain. I couldn’t even reach Jacob before I saw the life leave his body, but Chris was still barely holding on, clutching his chest where the arrow had pierced him. I wasn’t sure if I was the last thing he wanted to see before he died, but I still went and held his hand as his shirt grew increasingly darker. I knew he wouldn’t be able to speak, and frankly I couldn’t either, so I just held his hand until his grip loosened from mine. As I sat there, trying to understand what I had just done, I watched their bodies orb themselves out from my living room, not even leaving blood stains on the carpet. If it wasn’t for me, at least Chris would still be alive. Although I pointed the crossbow at Jacob’s chest, it must’ve shifted when I had closed my eyes, and drifted up towards his throat. It hit there first, piercing far enough through him to reach Chris’ chest, resulting in both of them losing their lives. I know, I had to shoot Jacob either way, but nothing will change the fact that Chris died from my own stupidity and cowardice. I shouldn’t have closed my eyes. Now I’m sitting in my living room, writing these updates, wondering what I should do next. I mean, I’m not sure if Chris had any family or if they were even human, but I knew if Jacob’s mom stopped receiving messages from him for an extended amount of time, she’d be suspicious. How do you explain to someone that their son died because of some weird supernatural entity taking over his body? You can’t, right? I’m sure I’ll figure it out someday soon, but as I sit here typing this last update, somehow I feel a little at peace. I feel like I had ended something sinister for Jacob, and I was with Chris as he died, hopefully giving him some peace about his death as well. I know I can’t be sure of either of those assumptions, but that’s what I’ll have to tell myself until I get things straightened out.

i’m only supposed to take my on walks at night.

y6tb0a

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y6tb0a/im_only_supposed_to_take_my_on_walks_at_night/

Johnny, wake up bud, I said to my dog. My dogs name is johnny and he’s an old one but he’s been with me since i was young. We usually go on walks in the night we live in a safe neighborhood so i’ve never had any second thoughts about these walks. When i grew older and was old enough to walk him, my father always told me to take him on walks in the night, i never thought why. i guessed he just liked the night more. i shook him again. Johnny come on dude. he wouldn’t wake up so i just decided to wait till tomorrow morning. he’s a fat old dog so i didn’t think anything of him sleeping in any longer. so i went to sleep and didn’t think much about it. but not too long after i fell asleep i heard thudding around in my kitchen. was johnny up? i got up and grabbed Johnny’s leash. now i can take him on a walk i mumbled to myself rubbing my eyes. johnny? i said walked down the stairs. you up buddy? usually he’d bark in response but i didn’t hear anything. johnny, let’s go on a walk bud, okay this is weird i again whispered to myself. I peeked the corner of the wall between the stairs and the living room. when i peeked the corner the rumbling stopped. johnny? i said again, now i was started to get creeped out. i stepped down and walked into the living room. Jesus christ johnny stop messing with me man. when i was younger johnny and i would play hide and seek. i thought that since he was older he wouldn’t be as interested in it. i guess i was wrong okay johnny! i said, ready or not here i come! i peeped around the couch and i instantly dropped the leash i was holding in my hands. j-johnny? i dropped to my knees and grabbed the bloody corpse on my floor, i cant see well? is this johnnys corpse or is it something else. i looked around and stood up when i saw the figure standing in the door frame of my kitchen. is this a goddamn prank? you think this is funny? i shouted. i picked up the leash and walked towards the figure. until the realization hit me, this wasn’t a human. what the fu- i shouted. i turned around a tripped over my own feet as i tried to run to the door, i sprained my ankle and the thing that was in the doorway was reaching for my shirt. i was freaking out and i froze up. i passed out and the last thing i remembered was my kitchen floor all cleaned up and Johnnys corpse was gone. for the next few days i was pacing around questioning what had just happened to me, i was even thinking about going to the police. I had so many questions was the thing my dog? how come my dad knew to only take him out at night?

There's an old lady at the door and I can't make her leave

y5l8p3

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y5l8p3/theres_an_old_lady_at_the_door_and_i_cant_make/

She showed up maybe at 6 pm? Perhaps a little later, but it wasn’t more than an hour after my parents had left that she came. Before you ask, no, I’ve never seen this woman before. If I had, her face would be the star of each and every one of my nightmares. There’s no reason for her to be here. “Let me in,” she keeps calling. “Let me in.” Her voice is like the creak of tree limbs through the autumn wind. Quiet, yet pervasive. I keep calling my mom, but she’s not answering. I’m seriously starting to think about dialing 911. Consequences be damned. That old lady. I don’t want to look out the peephole again, but I don’t need to do that to describe her. Her face is burned into my memory. She has leathery skin that looks more cracked than wrinkled under the yellow light of the porch lamp. Her hair is long and matted with every shade of grey intermingled randomly. The old lady is so thin that her joints all stick out in an unpleasant, skeletal way. Her sallow cheeks and hollow face look much like a skull. Maybe, if it weren’t for her eyes… maybe I could tell myself there wasn’t anything sinister about her. Maybe I could believe she’s just some old lady, off her rocker from dementia or whatever, and out bothering people. I mean, that happens, right? It feels like I’ve seen article titles about that sort of thing, at least. But nope. I can’t even give myself a pretty lie because I saw her eyes. They’re wide and pure black. No pupil. No iris. Just a dark void of twitching nothingness. A substance too thick and too dark to be tears runs down her cheeks in thin streams of sludge. There’s something wrong with her. “Let me in,” she keeps saying. “Let me in.” And I’m really panicking. You know, if I weren’t so stupid, I would just call the cops, but I can’t do that. Do you know why? When mom and dad left, I thought it’d be cool to engage in a little teenage rebellion for, like… the third time ever. I went through Jake’s room since he won’t be home until Thanksgiving break. I was just looking for some cash to get a pizza, but guess what I found? Little shoe box with a baggie of weed inside. And do you know what I did? I tried to smoke it. Notice how I said tried. I’ve never done it before and had to watch a YouTube video to figure out how to roll— Well. That’s irrelevant. I didn’t come here to embarrass myself. As I was saying. Cops. Mom still isn’t answering her phone. Dad’s must be dead because it keeps going to voicemail. I can’t call the cops. The house smells like a stupid skunk, but that old lady isn’t leaving. She keeps running those too-long fingernails against the screen door. The metal scratches beneath them, and I can hardly think straight. “Let me in.” If I call the cops, they’ll take me to jail, right? But if I don’t, what happens then? What if she gets in? Where will I end up? Instead of jail, hell? I can hear the crunch of her bare feet as she moves off the porch and over to the window. I’m hiding behind the couch, but I can hear her so clearly. “Let me in.” It’s too cold for the window to be open, but did Dad lock it? I don’t know. I’m too scared to check. She doesn’t pause in her mantra, and I hear her nails scratching against the glass. That tell-tale sliding of the window never comes. The window must be locked, after all. “Let me in,” she keeps calling. My phone is seriously trembling in my hands. Like. I’m considering texting my address to the GroupMe for my science class in the hopes that one of my classmates will show up. I wish I’d been more social, but it’s not like I ever knew that not having friends meant not having someone to chase away this… bogeywoman. I don’t even care if it’s freaking Sarah. If she showed up, that scared the old lady away. I'd forgive her for everything. Even putting gum in my hair on the first day of high school. I hear the hedge on the side of the house rustling. “Let me in.” She’s moving around the house and. The back door. It’s not locked. Okay. I got to it before she did, but what the fuck was that sound? That awful squeaking scream. Did she… Did she get the little chipmunk that lives in our yard? Dad always complains about him. “It’ll mess up the foundation.” But he never actually does anything about it. I think he likes the little guy. He’s always out in the morning time. I like to think he’s watching me get on the bus safely. But- Against the door’s glass, a visceral red with splotches of fleshy pink paints the view to the outside. “Let me in.” And I hope what I’m seeing isn’t that cute little chipmunk. I can’t see outside. I don’t know what she’s doing now, but I hear her mantra and fingers as she moves along the house siding. “Let me in. Let me in.” And I don’t know what to do. I keep dialing 9-1-1 and then erasing it because I can’t go to jail. I’d do horrible. I can’t even shower in gym class; how am I supposed to make it in prison? Do they even have TVs? I bet not. Overwatch 2 just came out. I’ve barely gotten to play it at all. I can’t go to jail. I actually did send my address with a ‘help, there’s a monster outside my house,’ but all that garnered was a hear reaction from Brad and a ‘what a loser’ from Sarah. Mom. She still won’t answer the phone. She’s got to hear it, right? Like even if it’s on vibrate, I keep calling repeatedly. She’d feel it, wouldn’t she? “Let me in,” she keeps calling. And finally, it’s just too much. I can’t keep listening to her. And hiding. And being scared that I’m going to see her stupid sewer-spewing eyes through the widow. I can’t keep on cowering. I don’t know if I dropped my phone after this decision or threw it on purpose. Either way, with my hands free, I pounded against the wall I thought she stood behind. “Go away!” I shrieked at her. “Go away! Go away! Go away!” And I kept repeating it as she did. Over and over. Forever. I screamed until I couldn't hear her creepy whispers, wandering fingers, and crunching feet. “Go away!” I am unsure how long I was beating on the wall, screaming at the old lady, but I didn’t hear the car's engine as my parents pulled in. Nor did I hear as they unlocked and entered the front door. “Go away! Go away!” I was still screaming when my dad grabbed my shoulders. I turned and my mom’s nostrils were flared, breathing in the stink of that shoebox I’d found under Jake’s bed. “The old woman!” I tried to explain. “Her skin was cracked, and her arms! They were too long! Her nails were like knives.” “Laura,” my mom said in a far too steady voice. “You have no idea how much trouble you are in.” I’ll spare you the details of what came next. Threats and punishments. Lots of disappointment and anger were directed at me. Some harsh words were exchanged. And, of course, the complete denial of that old woman, ‘that crazy drug hallucination’ I had. My phone was so cracked that I guess they didn’t even think of taking it away. Like they did everything else. But I’m glad I have it. Because outside my window is a crooked shadow. I hear the crunching of crisp leaves, nails too black and too long to be entirely human dragging themselves along the brick outside my room, and that horrible voice calling out. “Let me in. Let me in.” Mom locked my door from the outside for the first time in years. She’s worried that I, the girl who has to be begged to leave the house, might try to sneak out. I have no way of leaving. I can’t just lay here all night, listening to her fumbling with my locked window, can I? I tried screaming. I tried calling for mom and dad. I tried begging for help. I got told to shut up the first couple of times, then ignored. There are tears in my eyes. Big, angry water droplets. Are they just leaving me here, serving me on a platter to that monster outside? I tried screaming go away again, but it didn’t work. She’s still there, but I have an idea. Maybe there’s a way to get her focus off me. Dad usually smokes before bed with the window open, after all. All I have to do is… “Try my parents’ room. Three windows to the left.” And the old lady doesn’t pause her mantra, but it grows distant as the crunch of leaves fades to silence. For just a moment, I can close my eyes. It’s so quiet that I can almost believe that that old lady was just some sort of awful hallucination. That I didn’t redirect her to my parents. The thought of sleep crosses my tired mind. Melting into the safety of my dreams. Wouldn’t that be nice? Then the screaming started from my parents’ bedroom. It never seemed to stop. I tried getting out of my room, regretting what I’d said to the monster, but the lock. I could never break through it before, either. Eventually, it was just my dad left. Just his deep screams that cracked as if he were just a boy my age. What was she doing to them? When would it end? I buried my head in my pillow, and at some point, sleep found me. Now, it’s morning. Well. Barely morning. I’m still locked in my room, but that’s probably best because I can hear her voice on the other side of the door. “Let me in.”

The Oily Man

y5lcu0

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y5lcu0/the_oily_man/

I’ve had Snowy for about 5 years now. I fell for her the moment I saw her at the pound. Actually, I like to think that she chose me. She had walked right up to me and let me carry her, nuzzling her head into my shoulder. She was a tiny thing then, only 3 months old. I decided right on the spot that she was the dog I wanted. I call her Snowy, but she has a glossy black coat of soft short fur. It was a silly name I played around with as a joke. It was funny to see the confusion on others’ faces whenever I called for her and she came running in her full ebony glory. But she took quickly to the name, and the name stuck. Snowy has large round caramel brown eyes that can melt your soul. She’s also a rather large and muscular dog. Yet, she walks with a lithe grace that resembles the movements of a cat. Her black tail is usually curled upwards, forming a little fibonacci spiral. It wasn’t curled on that day, though. It was shooting out backwards in a rigid horizontal line. Her face, usually alternating between sad puppy eyes and a bright sparkling smile, was tensed up, her lips curled back to bare her teeth. A low rumble emanated from deep within her. I came to a halt, and followed her gaze. There was a man in a grey hoodie on the other side of the road, with his face almost fully covered with the mask he was wearing and the hood draped low. In the dim evening light, I couldn’t make out his eyes. He was walking at a casual pace, with a slight odd gait to his steps. I felt a tingle of fear, but quickly brushed it off. I had heard lots of stories of dogs disliking people dressed in hoodies and who have their faces covered. Dogs apparently like to be able to read people’s expressions. I walked on, tugging lightly at the leash to guide Snowy forward. She walked ahead of me, still keeping her eyes on the man. When he began to cross the road over to my side, I felt myself tense up as well. I kept my face neutral and looked straight ahead, increasing my pace. Snowy began to growl louder. By the time he stepped onto the pavement right in front of us, Snowy was letting rip with full-on ferocious growls, her hackles up and her sharp canines clearly visible as she snarled. For a moment, I found myself lost in awe and admiration. She’s always a big softie around me, sometimes gentle and often happily excited, with a really goofy nature. I haven’t gotten to see her get truly aggressive ever. She was a terrifying sight to behold, yet beautiful and majestic at the same time. *The Hound of the Baskervilles.* The thought popped into my head. Then I quickly remembered the threat and poised myself to run, gripping her leash tightly in my hands. “Whoa, whoa!” The hooded man said, in a rather high and nasal tone. The incongruence of the threat he seemed to pose and the pitchy sound of his voice jarred me free from the stress and dread that I had been gripped in. He swiped his hood back off his head and took off his mask. He was just a normal guy. A normal guy with slightly rosy cheeks, a round face and eyes that blinked nervously as Snowy continued to growl. He held his arms out in front of him, trying to calm Snowy. “Hey, whoa, I just wanted to ask you where the nearest convenience store is. My phone’s dead and I need to buy a cable and charge it somewhere,” he said, looking warily at Snowy. I stared at him, still suspicious, given that Snowy was still snarling at him despite him having revealed his face. She kept herself planted between the man and I. “Oh, I have a dog, it’s a really anxious, jumpy fellow. Your dog must be smelling it on me. Lots of dogs dislike me and my dog, I think it lets out some sort of fearful pheromone or something,” he continued. I relaxed a little. That made sense. Snowy had often barked at a neighbour’s jittery little dog, and she often seemed to hate getting into the lift of my apartment. I had long suspected that it was due to the scent of the neighbour’s anxious dog, which probably lingered in the lift. *No wonder his dog’s anxious,* I thought, *any human who calls their dog, “it”...* “Yea, sorry,” I said, “She doesn’t like the scent of anxiety, I guess.” I held on tighter to her leash, pulling her back as she tried to lunge at the man. “Anyway, there’s one right around that corner. Just keep going straight, turn right at the main road, and you’d see a petrol station on your right. There’s a convenience store right there,” I said, gesturing with one arm to show him the way. “Great, thank you!” He looked nervously at Snowy, then walked away with a wave, occasionally turning back, probably to check that Snowy wasn’t lunging after him. Snowy quietened down when the man was completely out of sight. He must have been really scared of her. I turned my head back to look a couple of seconds after he walked off, and he was already nowhere to be seen. She seemed subdued for the rest of the walk, but perked up once we were home and I had gotten her a treat. She had been a good girl, the way she had tried to protect me. The next day, we were back on the same path, after all, it was one of our usual routes. Lo and behold, Snowy suddenly stopped and started growling again. I looked around, half expecting to see the hoodie guy around again. But there was no one around me. I walked faster, feeling unnerved by Snowy’s growls. I was tempted to turn around and head home, but Snowy needed her half hour walks. Snowy’s a really energetic dog, which was something I had realised, too late, after bringing her home from the pound. She had seemed so sweet, so gentle and so placid, that I had thought she would be the perfect dog to have in an apartment. But once home, she began her zoomies, and just didn’t stop. Over the years, her energy levels are much more manageable, but she still requires at least two walks a day of half an hour of brisk walking. So I strode on, all braced for anything that could happen. Snowy kept growling, a low tone that vibrated into the night. We were walking by a lamppost, when I saw it. A shadow, apart from ours. It seemed to stretch from someone behind me. I froze, feeling my heart thumping and my ears begin to ring. Then I spun around, as did Snowy. There was no one there. I thought I had caught a glimpse of a shadow darting into the darkness, but I was probably imagining things. Or that’s what I repeatedly told myself. I was done with the walk. I would walk Snowy for an hour in the morning, tomorrow. Screw routine. I began to head back at an almost frantic pace, Snowy keeping slightly ahead of me, pulling at the leash, seemingly as eager as I was to get home. We were waiting for the lift when I heard footsteps. My nerves were stretched so taut, I was surprised I didn’t just rupture an artery. I stood by the lift doors, facing the source of the footsteps. The lift door opened just as I saw the tip of a shadow appear from behind the corner. I dashed into the lift, dragging Snowy in as she started barking and growling at whomever was around the corner. I jabbed rapidly at the “close” button, pushing aside the brief thought of, what if it was an old lady slowly making her way to the lift, and I shut the doors in her face? Rather safe than sorry, I told myself as the doors began to close. To my relief, no one jammed a hand in at the last minute to stop the doors, like in so many movies. I leant back against the lift wall, breathing out a sigh of relief. Then realised that Snowy was crouched and poised to spring, baring her teeth at something on the ground. That’s when I saw it again. A shadow. A humanoid patch of darkness that draped itself in a corner of the lift. I felt a scream building in my lungs. By habit, I held it back. Repression, for me, is a habit that doesn’t go away even in the face of danger, it seems. I inched further back into the opposite corner of the lift. I darted my eyes about, trying to find anything that could potentially be a source of the shadow, anything that could explain why there was a shadow without a man. The shadow oozed forward, seeming almost like a viscous dark liquid. It grazed the ground beneath Snowy’s paws, and she leapt back, letting out a whimper. She seemed frightened. Terrified, actually. She lowered her body near the ground and hunched her body. Her tail drooped. She was still baring her teeth though, and keeping herself between the shadow and myself. The door finally opened, and after taking a second to steel myself, I grabbed the leash and charged out the door, past the shadow that was right by it. I fled down the corridors to my home, and almost dropped the keys as I tried to insert them into the lock with my shaking hands. Snowy seemed to psych herself back into a posture of pure aggression. She faced the direction of the lift, every muscle in her body tensed and ready to spring. I finally got the key in, unlocked and opened the door. We almost threw ourselves into the house, and I quickly closed and locked the door behind me. I flipped every switch I could find, until the house was lit in every nook and cranny in warm light. Then I flipped each switch again, to get the bright white light of the other light mode. I had a feeling I’d need the brightness. We retreated to the bedroom, with me not even bothering to wash Snowy’s paws. I tried to huddle up with Snowy on the bed, but she sat herself firmly down in a corner of the bed, facing the door. I noticed that she kept licking her paws, and made a mental note to check them out once the threat was gone. I grabbed the wooden katana that I had by the bedside. I know, it might seem odd why I have one right there. I was going through a combat/martial arts phase, but unfortunately, it didn’t last long. Nowadays, I just keep the wooden katana by my bed in case of break ins. I have a baseball bat by the outer door too. I really wished I had continued with the martial arts training. I should have taken up kickboxing, or Muay Thai for real. Or something, anything. Because I felt just vulnerable and exposed at that moment. After around twenty minutes of surveilling every inch of the apartment, I began to relax. Snowy was still tensed up with her ears pricked, but I just began to pat her in slow gentle strokes to try to calm her down. I headed to the toilet, and Snowy leapt off the bed to follow me there, though she seemed to be limping a little. I tried to check out her paws but she pulled them away, seeming to shrug me off as she stayed focused on standing guard. I decided to go on with my business and check them out later. I rolled the small rollie bedside table out of the way to open the toilet door. For once, I didn’t try to shut the door to keep her outside. I stared at my unnerved expression in the toilet mirror, and marvelled at how pale my lips were. Then I saw something in the reflection that finally shattered my nerves. The shadow cast by the rollie table had not moved, even after I had pushed it aside. I finally began screaming. A shrill screech tore itself involuntarily from my lungs, and Snowy went mad snapping and bellowing at the door. I spun around in time to see the shadow remorph itself into a humanoid shape, and glide towards the toilet’s doorway. Without thinking, I took two steps forward and leapt, hoping to clear the patch of shadow. An oily hand reached out from the pool of shadow and grabbed me by the ankle. I felt flat on the ground, landing on my chest and chin, only breaking the fall slightly with my left elbow. The wind was knocked out of me, and I struggled to breathe. At the same time, I felt a sharp pain blast through my elbow. *God damn it, I probably fractured it,* I thought, before my vision blurred for a moment. By the time I regained my wits, Snowy was already snapping at the slimy arm connected to the hand on my ankle. She chomped down hard, her sharp teeth piercing the oiled up skin of the arm that reached up from the shadow, which seemed to glimmer with a layer of dark grease. The hand loosened its grip on my ankle. The arm pulled back, and Snowy’s teeth lost purchase on the oily skin. I watched as dark putrid ooze spurted from the bite wounds on the arm. The arm retreated back to the shadow puddle, and I groggily dragged myself backward with my right elbow. I stared at the shadow and for a few heartbeats, nobody moved, not even Snowy, who was glaring intently at the shadow. Then the shadow swept forward, leaving a trail of grease on the ground, and before I could react, it had slid its way across half of my body. It’s hard to describe what it felt like. I’ll try, but I doubt I could capture the horror and stomach-churning disgust I felt. I expected it to feel cold, like how most horror creatures feel. But it was not. It was uncomfortably warm, almost hot, and the sensation of that warm oozing, greasy pile of slime that climbed across my body almost made me puke on the spot. The lower half of my body felt trapped, glued to the spot by the ooze. I tried to kick at it, to wriggle my way out, but I could move it. It slowly draped its way up to my chest, then to my neck, and I realised I couldn’t breathe. Which was almost a blessing, because the nearer it got, the harder the stench of rot, sewage and human waste punched me in the nostrils. I could almost taste the reeking odour in my mouth. I began to flail and scratch at it, mostly with my right arm, for any movement wrecked my left elbow with almost unbearable pain. I’m not ashamed to say that I lost control of my bladder right then. I felt my pants turn warm and wet, the warmth and wetness soon merging with the sludge enveloping my body. Snowy leapt madly about, desperately trying to save me but not knowing how. Then a head began to rear itself from the puddle, right above my chest, and I recognised the face of the man I had seen the night before, now gunked over with a thick black grease. Even his eye whites were covered with grease. His irises seemed to expand in size, as he stared into me, a bodiless head emerging from the shadow that was suffocating me. That was when Snowy sunk her teeth into his left eye socket. I saw her widen her jaws, lunge forward, and watched in terrified amazement as her lower canine tooth hit and dented the eyeball, before it broke through and went deep into his socket. It all seemed to happen in a really slow motion. My mouth hung open, as the black sludge sprayed from his eye socket, some hitting me on the tongue. I gagged, and retched, as much as I could without being able to take in a breath. He screamed, a terrifying shriek that scraped my ear drums. Snowy pulled back, tearing some of the grease and flesh off his face. He continued to scream, and Snowy went in for a second attack, this time clamping her jaws on his nose and upper lip. More flesh and black blood spewed into the air as she tore back again. The bone chilling caterwaul he let out lingered in the air as he slunk back into a puddle, then retreated from my body. I could breathe again. My body felt squashed and limp, but I could move most things. Snowy dashed after the shadow, but it was faster. She returned after a while, and licked my face as I continued to lay in a sprawl on the floor. It was only when Snowy began to whine and whimper, that I snapped myself back into action. She was no longer putting pressure on her front paws, and I quickly grabbed them to check them out. To my horror, I saw red blisters and open flesh wounds on her paw pads, resembling images that I had seen online of skin that had been inflicted with flesh-eating bacteria. Don’t Google it if you’re about to have dinner. “Snowy!” I yelled, staring at the rot on her paw pads, then at her beautiful face. That was when I realised that the flesh around her cheeks and lips were also covered in sores, blisters and at parts, uncovered flesh. I screamed. Then dialled the ambulance. I don’t know why I did that, but I assumed no one would be asshole-ish enough to not help a dog. She continued to whimper, and as I dabbed at the seemingly necrotized flesh with alcohol wipes, I began to notice a painful tingle climbing from my right palm to my forearm. I finally remembered to check, and realised that the same blisters, sores and rot were forming on my hand and forearm. I choked back my scream and forced myself into an icy calmness. Boy, am I glad I wore long pants that night, and didn’t take off my socks. After finishing with cleaning up her paw pads, lips, cheeks and the insides of her mouth (which was tricky, considering she kept trying to shut her mouth when the alcohol touched the sores inside), I wiped down my right arm with my left, clenching my teeth to overcome the shooting pains from my left elbow as I tried to manoeuvre my left hand. By the time I had carefully changed out of my sludge covered clothes without touching any of the gunk, the ambulance had arrived and we were both brought to the hospital. I think they got an actual human doctor to take a look at Snowy before a vet arrived. I’m still really grateful for how concerned and caring they were towards Snowy. The doctors said that there was some new strain of flesh-eating bacteria in our wounds, and they hooked us up to an IV drip with antibiotics. Or I assume the vet did the same for Snowy, for I didn’t get to see her until after I was discharged. No one believed my story. The police said that it was likely that someone had drugged me, and had, for reasons even they couldn’t think up, poured something containing flesh eating bacteria on us. I was hallucinating the whole thing, they said. The officer who said that, didn’t even seem to believe himself. I’ve been searching everywhere for any shadow that seems out of place, for any dark puddles that moved. I barely slept a wink in the hospital. When they refused to keep the ward’s lights on, I plugged in a dozen book lights, which they acquiesced to eventually. Well, to letting me keep three of them on, at least. I’m back home now, with Snowy, and she’s doing okay. Thank god her toe beans didn’t have to be removed. If that happened, I would probably hunt down that thing and go kamikaze on it with fire. Anyway, the antibiotics stopped the necrotizing of our flesh, and while we are both scarred, me on my right hand and forearm, Snowy on her lips, cheeks and paw pads, we both survived relatively unharmed. Screw that, flesh-eating bacteria sucks. But all in all, with me in an arm cast and Snowy with bandaged paws, we are still here to tell the tale. I haven’t stopped looking out for moving shadows. I’ve changed the walking route completely, and I’ve also arranged to move out of my apartment next week. I have barely slept a wink, still, despite friends staying over and keeping the lights on 24/7. But what really bothers me, is that today, my scars have begun to ooze a sticky, oily substance. It looks like dark grease. I checked Snowy’s scars, and found the same droplets of brackish goo. We’re headed to the doctor’s and the vet’s in a bit, just after I finish up with my online meetings for the day. I’m really desperately hoping that it’s nothing horrible, just some weird infection and gross pus spilling from the scars. The oily substance is leaking at an increased rate. My keyboard’s getting all mucked up with slime from my right hand. Snowy just skidded a little on her front paws, and she’s leaving greasy prints all over the ground. I think I’d better call off the rest of my meetings. I put on gloves to continue typing here, but my right glove is already bulging at the fingertips. Wish us luck. I think we'll need it. [x](https://www.reddit.com/r/TheDarkSeas/)

There's no telling who you'll meet when you work at an occult store

y5yv4g

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y5yv4g/theres_no_telling_who_youll_meet_when_you_work_at/

You encounter some pretty interesting people when you work at a store that specializes in things like tarot cards and other items connected to the occult. Although encountering interesting people is the norm when you work any retail job anymore, it's a unique experience in my case. Personally, I think it's worth it to not have to deal with the usual nonsense like Black Friday, and the upside is that the store always smells amazing from the variety of incense you can buy. Most of the time customers are a little quirky, but respectful and polite. The store is in New Orleans, so it wasn't like I was working at an occult store that stuck out like a sore thumb or didn't fit in with the community. But most of all, the job was simple and straightforward, and the store itself was quiet, calm, and peaceful. And what more can you ask for from a job? But there is one particular customer that stands out above all the rest. It was on a Tuesday afternoon when the shop was quiet. I was in the middle of adjusting some crystals we had on sale when I heard the telltale chime of the bell that announced we had a customer on the premises. So I stood up and headed to the front of the store to see what was up. "Hello, welcome to The Purple Candle, can I help you with anything?" I asked the figure with their back turned to me as they were looking at some books. "I'm not sure. Let me look around and I'll let you know." The customer said as he turned around. The guy was gorgeous. Deep green eyes and a jawline so sharp it could cut through bricks. But what got my attention most of all was his attitude. Many of the people who set foot in here often do it on a dare, or because they're getting a tongue in cheek gift for a friend, and it shows. That wasn't this guy. As he browsed through the shop with a hint of seriousness, he methodically studied the various items on display. I could see his eyes sweeping over everything while I walked back to the checkout counter and busied myself. I could also tell he’d never set foot in a place like this, because he had the telltale uncertainty and awkwardness of someone who was out of their element. But that’s usually how it goes; people who come in here either know exactly what they’re looking for or don’t have the slightest idea of what’s going on. "Do you like Ouija Boards?" He asked me out of nowhere after a few minutes. "Not particularly." "Why's that?" "It's best to avoid asking questions you don't know the answer to. I don't care if it's your boss, your landlord, or a wooden board and a planchette." "Fair point. What about some questions you do know the answer to?" "Those can be just as risky." "That they can." He nodded. "Do you do witchcraft?" "No but ask my ex-boyfriend and he'll tell you something different." He chuckled. "I'm sure. Well if he left you, I'd bet money the other woman is a witch and has him under a spell. It's the only possible explanation for leaving someone like you." "Actually it was a mutual decision. But nice try." He smiled at me. “You know it.” "But if I'm being honest, I would've absolutely been accused of being a witch back in the day. Aside from working here, I have a black cat." "Definitely grounds to be viewed with suspicion back then. Which means you would’ve been sent right to the gallows." "Not burned at the stake?" "Not here. They burned witches in Europe. Here in America it was hanging." "That's correct. But at least I would've had good company. Me and virtually everyone else I know. Literally anything was grounds for being called a witch back then. Just like most things were fair game for being committed to a psychiatric hospital for centuries after that. "Indeed." "If I recall correctly, they even put a psychiatric hospital right where old Salem used to be. Fascinating, right?" "Absolutely. Speaking of witchcraft, do you like working here?" "I got no complaints. It's a job, like any other." "What if a better offer came along?" "I'll decide what to do if it comes along." "I understand." He paused briefly and went to look at the display of tarot cards that occupied a table nearby. "Do you have a favorite deck?" He asked a few moments later. "Not particularly. They all have their own unique style." "Do you believe in them?" I paused for a moment. "I tend to think of them as a form of meditation. If you're quiet and in thought, it's amazing what can come to you." "I can respect that." He shuffled through a few decks and held one up to me. I noticed that the Devil card was displayed on the back of the box. "What would you do if I told you this was me?" He pointed at it. I shrugged. "The same thing I'm doing right now." "You don't seem surprised or shocked." "Because I'm not. I get asked weird things all the time working here. Besides, everyone's got their own version of the Devil and everyone's the Devil to someone, it's just a question of how many people share that version. You know what the difference between an angel and a demon is?" "What?" "About thirty seconds." He chuckled. "Well said. But what's your version of the Devil?" "I haven't quite decided yet. Probably because there are countless versions. To some the Devil is that bottle of booze, while to others it's a bag of powder, the abusive spouse, the nasty boss, or the treacherous coworker. But they're all accurate. It's just a matter of picking your poison. My version, like most people's, all depends on what's happening." "Very interesting observation. I like you." "Thanks." I had no idea how I felt about this guy. "One last question. What do you think of all this stuff in general?" He gestured around the store. It was a common question for me. "Humanity has existed for thousands of years. Certain practices have come and gone over the years, but a lot of the tradition and folklore has endured. It's just a question of whether it's simply changed shape or gone underground. Many ancient ideas and practices are still out there, they're just hiding beneath the surface or practiced on the margins." He nodded. "I see where you're coming from." "Alright, I give," I said. "What are you here for?" "Do you read cards?" "No, even better, I read people. And you, my friend, are here for a specific reason. I'm just not sure what it is. Yet." "Would it be ridiculous to say I was looking for some help?" "Not at all. Most people are looking for help anymore. But as to what brings people in here, I find people are typically looking for assistance it as it relates to job, family, or romantic troubles. And since you don't carry that unique sense of misery that comes with job issues, I'm gonna guess family or dating." "You're observant. It's family." He paused for a moment while I stood there, quietly waiting. "It's my sister. Kelly’s her name. She's in trouble." I remained silent while he stood there, trying to articulate his thoughts. "She ran away a few months ago. We couldn't find her, so we hired a private investigator. He found her two weeks ago in a place about three hours outside of town, and she was hanging out with people widely described as 'weird' and 'creepy'. The investigator had also done some research and found people associated with them have gone missing." "Alright." "It gets worse." He swallowed nervously. “He says there are rumors they meet in remote places and do...." he fumbled for a word. "Things. Rituals." "So you want some insight." "I'd be grateful for literally any help at all. The PI is good, but he lost them. Said they just up and vanished without a trace." "And here you are." "And here I am." He nodded. "I'm Alec by the way." "Isla." I reached out and shook his hand. Alec's grip was firm, but gentle. Then I stood up from where I’d been leaning over the counter and looked him in the eye. "Well Alec, the first thing to remember is that a ritual means different things to different people. The term ritual has an inherently ominous connotation in many cultures, but anything can be a ritual. Opening presents on Christmas morning after you eat a breakfast of pancakes is a ritual. Like most things, everyone and everything has rituals, it's just a question of how far some people take it." "Fair enough. I just," he struggled for a moment to get the words out. "I'm scared. We all are. We've noticed people following us. Lurking outside the house. Nothing serious or overtly scary. Or enough to call the police. But it’s just enough to let us know they're there." "Right." "But I did manage to get a picture of some of them one night. Here it is." Alec took out his phone, swiped through it, and held the screen up to me after a moment. The picture was of a group of people who were dressed casually, but in ways that took care to hide their faces, be it with baseball hats, knit caps, or the odd hood up. I was almost done with the photo when something in it caught my eye. One of the figures in the middle of the frame looked vaguely familiar. So I took a closer look and noticed that despite the baseball cap on his head, I could still make out his face from the angle. My stomach sank when I recognized it immediately. "Oh my God. One of the people in it is my ex-boyfriend Cameron." "You're kidding me?" “No. That's him." I jabbed my finger at the picture while the floor felt like it was tilting beneath me. At some point we ended up calling Vivian, the store owner and a good friend of mine who knew Cameron. She didn't hesitate to come in when I explained what was going on. Despite arriving on short notice, Vivian looked great as always. She's one of those people who always looks great no matter what's going on or what she wears. "So where do we go from here?" Vivian asked when Alec had finally finished explaining things. "Well, everything we've been told says that unless an actual crime has been committed, there's no reason to call the cops. But regular people like us? We're free to do our own legwork. Although I'm not sure how much good that would do. We tried that before and got nothing. The group Kelly is with constantly moves and leaves false trails." "But we know they remain in the general area," Vivian brushed a strand of auburn hair out of her face. "Which means they must have a place to go where they do, well, whatever it is they do. And if there's one thing I know, it must be well hidden. Because everyone notices a group of people." "That's exactly what the PI my family hired said. It's what drove him so crazy. That a large group of people would be so hard to keep track of." “The island." I blurted out without warning. "The island?" Alec asked. "It's the name for a stretch of land that's been in Cameron's family for generations. It's been his ever since his father died. There used to be a cabin there, but it’s been long since demolished." "Is it a good place to hide?" For the first time since he walked in, Alec was looking at me with something that resembled hope. "You have no idea. It's out in the middle of nowhere, and unless you know what you're looking for, you'd never find it." "Well then what are we waiting for? It's field trip time." Vivian clapped her hands together. It took Vivian no time at all to close up and flip the sign to closed on the shop door. Then we piled into her black SUV and headed for the island. Vivian drove, Alec took the passenger seat, and I was in the back. We drove there in complete silence, and while the radio was on, I couldn't tell you what was playing if you paid me. The whole thing had a surreal, dreamlike atmosphere to it. Eventually the city faded away in the rearview mirror and we were the only ones on the road. I'm not sure how I felt about that. It was fitting for sure. "I can't believe Cameron is mixed up in this," I said eventually. "I just can't." "Why?" Alec turned around in his seat to face me. "He was always so normal and intelligent. The last person you'd expect to get involved in something like this." "My sister was like that too. That's what makes it so terrifying." "They wanted his land," Vivian said from the driver's seat. "What?" I asked. "His land. They wanted it. Whoever is the ringleader probably saw Cameron had something useful and then did whatever was necessary to recruit him. Made him feel included. Important even. Same reason people get involved in gangs or organized crime. From what you told me, Cameron always felt like he was an outsider and excluded. Being made to feel part of something when you have that feeling is incredibly powerful." "I think you're onto something there." Alec whispered. It was a sentiment I agreed with. It didn't take long to arrive at our destination after that. The Sun had gone down by then and the area came to life at night like only a swamp can. The air hummed with the sounds of splashes in the water and of things whizzing through the air. I never did particularly like coming out here with Cameron. The island was a massive bit of land situated deep in the swamp that was surrounded by water on almost all sides, and the only way I knew how to get there was through a narrow path that wound around the swamp. So with my phone in hand as a flashlight, I lead the way. We all trooped silently on the worn dirt path, with only the frogs, crickets, and other swamp dwellers to keep us company. But it didn't take long to find out we had the right idea. Because after walking for about 20 minutes, I could see through the trees that there was a massive bonfire sitting right in the middle of Cameron's land. And as is often the case with massive bonfires, there were plenty of people surrounding it. They were dressed casually enough, but that was the only remotely normal thing about the situation. The people moved and danced around the fire in ways that can only be described as unnatural. I love to dance, and I love the freedom and the fun that comes from dancing to one of your favorite songs. You can always tell if someone is truly happy while they're dancing because no matter what the tune is, they move in a way that's inherently calming to watch. This was anything but. The movements I was watching now were manic and intense. If you didn't know better, you'd suspect them of having a bad reaction to some kind of drug, which was entirely possible. Which was why despite the dense humidity, which was already making sweat drip down my arms, a shiver ran through my body at the sight. But I did my best to stifle the feeling as we slowly crept around and settled in a spot that gave us a perfect view of the area. It was a sliver of land with several trees that was raised above the island, so it allowed all three of us to look down at the group without them having a clue. So all that was left was for us to sit there silently and watch until Vivian took out her phone and began recording what the group was doing. "In case there's something we can use." She explained when the two of us looked at her. "Good idea." Alec nodded. Whatever we were witnessing went on for a few minutes until a loud popping sound rumbled through the dense swamp air. It was obvious that something was up, because the group immediately stopped what they were doing and looked around in what I could tell was total confusion. There were no deliberate, unnatural movements here; it was all good old-fashioned surprise. Moments later, more popping sounds penetrated the air, and it was obvious that it was gunfire, and someone was shooting at the group. One of them on the far-right side had been hit and went down immediately. As several more shots rang out in the air, more people around the fire went down and didn't get up. The group was in full confusion now; they were trying to run for cover, but there was nowhere to run to, and they had no clue what they were even running from. The three of us sat there spellbound as the sight unfolded before us. But after several more moments of haphazard gunfire, it was silent. But not for long, because from far across the swamp, several figures emerged from the shadows and approached the roughly two dozen group members still remaining. In the flickering light from the massive bonfire, I could see there were four figures, and they were all armed with machetes and wearing cheap, costume store masks. It didn't take me long to realize what would happen next. But nothing could've prepared me for the raw brutality of the four masked strangers and how they raised their machetes and hacked through the group one at a time. They were methodical, taking care to surround them and pick them off at odd intervals like a pack of lions going after a herd of prey. The screams were without a doubt the worst sound I've ever heard. The assailants' blood-soaked machetes gleamed in the fire light as Vivian silently recorded it all. But eventually the area fell silent again and the masked assailants left soon after. Then it was just the three of us, what was left of the group, and the bonfire. Once a few moments had passed, Vivian used her phone to call the police and tell them what happened. Then we were left with nothing but the hum of bugs and frogs to keep us company. Vivian, Alec, and I didn’t talk much as we waited. There wasn’t much you could say after something like that unfolds right in front of you. And the longer we were there, the more the massacre we had just witnessed chilled me to the bone. This wasn’t some random act of violence by people who were just out for a thrill. The assailants knew exactly what they were doing, knew that the group was there, picked off just enough of them to cause a panic, then methodically set about executing the rest of them in a way that suggested they’d done this all before. It was late at night when help finally arrived, and by then the bonfire was little more than smoldering ash and glowing coals. But no one was prepared for what the paramedics found when they arrived. As they were cataloging bodies, they stumbled onto Alec's sister Kelly, and she was still alive. Unconscious, but alive. And she was the only one. She'd been hit with gunfire, but it was in the right shoulder and the leg. Then she immediately went down and was knocked unconscious when her head hit the ground at an odd angle. Which was how the paramedics found her. The surgery went fine, but it's a long road to recovery, and that's just the physical part. The mental therapy involved will be even more grueling. But Alec and his family got what they wanted, as Kelly was finally free of those people and whatever they had planned. Cameron wasn't so lucky. He'd fallen victim to one of the machetes and there was nothing to be done. I felt sad at his demise, but worse about how his family would take it. They were such nice people. That's the real tragedy of the situation; all the people who were nothing but collateral damage. But somewhere along the line, you make ties that even if they don’t replace broken ones, they help ease the pain. Which is why it was no surprise Alec stayed in contact with Vivian and I after what we saw in the swamp. He's told me a million times I'm the only reason Kelly had a shot at making it out. Vivian agrees. The one thing that bothers us the most is the assailants who massacred the group. There was absolutely no way to identify them, which means their motive was unknown and they were still out there. The theory is that the group messed with them in some way, and this was their way to get even. If that's the case, then mission accomplished.

I went to a Halloween party with a friend. I barely got out alive.

y5mvrh

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y5mvrh/i_went_to_a_halloween_party_with_a_friend_i/

I awoke to something dry and bristly rubbing against my face. Tilled earth and fertilizer filled my nose as I lie on the ground, face pointed toward the sky. A wave of rustling echoed in my mind as a cool breeze flowed over my face. My eyes struggled to open, matted from a heavy… sleep, I guess you’d call it. Turning my head side to side, all I saw were endless rows of corn. The tops of the brown, crisp stalks bobbed lazily in the light wind. Their dry leaves brushed against each other making a sound like dry skin catching on cheap linen. My head swam. It felt like a hangover, but I knew I hadn’t drunk enough to cause that. Three or four beers at most. Maybe someone put something in my drink. That’s the only thing that made sense. I pushed myself unsteadily to my feet. My vision doubled and refocused. A clawing pain ripped through my stomach as though I hadn’t eaten in weeks. It was a sickening mixture of starvation and nausea. The rancid taste of vomit filled my mouth. Shoving my hands into my pockets, I was concerned to discover that whoever had dumped me here had taken my cell phone. My wallet was missing too. The only things left in my pockets were a half-crushed pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Looking to the ground, I saw the remains of my meal, congealed and soaking in the loamy soil. Sitting next to it, looking into the moon-filled sky was a silicone Halloween mask. The skeleton face framed in a ratty white whaler’s beard smiled up at me. *Funny meeting you here,* the mask seemed to say. I nervously chuckled as the thought bounced inside of my head. “Yeah,” I said to the mask. “Pretty wild.” My mind was foggy, but I could remember a few details from earlier in the night before I woke up alone in the cornfield. \_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_ Marcus Hart, my roommate, told me one of the fraternities on campus had planned a Halloween kegger at someone’s cabin. A girl Marcus was chasing after mentioned that she would be there and Marcus dragged me along. Marcus and I weren’t outcasts by any means, but we weren’t hanging with the popular people on campus. Friendly, sure, but party invitations weren’t filling up our mailbox. The entire concept of a frat party seemed a little offputting, but I hated to make him go alone. “I think Stacey’s into me, Danny,” Marcus said as my Acura rumbled down the country road. I was going to the party as a favor to him, so he had the pleasure of driving us. “Seems like a good signal that she told me about the Halloween party tonight.” “She didn’t exactly invite us,” I chuckled as I took a drag off my cigarette. A crisp autumn breeze was blowing in through a crack in the window, blowing ashes wildly through the cab of the car. “She didn’t exactly volunteer the information. Didn’t you ask her if she had plans?” Marcus took a hand from the wheel and extended his middle finger in my direction. I chortled again as I flicked the smoldering butt out the window. It bounced off of the mile marker sign, exploding into a cloud of red cinders. “I’m just busting your balls,” I heckled. “She could have just told you she was busy and it seemed like she was pretty happy when you said you would stop by. Relax. It’ll be a fun night.” Marcus smiled at my response. “Let’s not stick around too long,” I said. “Frat guys are a bunch of assholes and I’m not looking to spend the whole night with them drinking cheap beer and watching them show their ass.” “They aren’t all bad,” Marcus responded. “I have some classes with a few of them. Decent enough guys.” I rolled my eyes and lit another cigarette. “I don’t know what high school was like for you,” I replied snidely. “For me, those are the guys that gave me hell all the time. Being in a frat is for rich kids who want to buy friends. Not my kind of scene.” We drove on in silence. I guess I offended him, but it was how I felt. Not everyone in a fraternity was a bad guy most likely, but it seemed like an accurate stereotype to me. After what felt like an eternity of winding down two-lane country roads, the GPS on my phone alerted us that the house was ahead on the left. As we rounded the final corner, we could see smoke rising from a bonfire by the edge of a cornfield. Loud music blasted through the air as nearly one hundred college students milled about. We parked in the field across the road and headed over to the thriving party. After grabbing a few beers and making laps to see if we knew anyone there, we settled toward the edge of the costumed horde and watched the chaos. Marcus looked frantically through the crowd trying to spot Stacey. “Did you see her anywhere?” he asked, slight panic in his voice. “Everyone at this damn party has a mask on. I’m not sure I’d recognize her in one.” I shrugged. He had a point. She would blend into the crowd. “I think I’m going to make another pass and see if I spot here,” he said. “Gonna come?” “You go ahead,” I said, pulling a pack of cigarettes from my shirt pocket. ‘I’m going to step off to the side for a smoke.” Marcus tossed me a wave and headed off into the crowd, scanning the shifting cluster for Stacey. I walked a few feet away from the cluster of people to save them from the cloud of cigarette smoke. Just because I was destroying my lungs didn’t mean they had to suffer the secondhand effects. I lit my cigarette and turned to look out at the immense cornfield. A long draw of smoke was drifting into my lungs when a heavy hand fell on my shoulder. It startled me and I choked as my body ejected my last draw. Body shaking with tremors from my deep coughs, I turned to see a shirtless man wearing a monstrous jester mask. “You’re breaking the rules!” the demonic harlequin shouted. In his hands, he held a floppy Halloween mask and a red plastic cup filled with beer. “If you wanna stay at this party you have to wear a mask and you have to drink some beer!” He shoved the mask and cup into my hands. Turning the mask over in my hand, I saw the smiling skeletal face framed in the white whaler’s beard. The hollow sockets seemed to look into my eyes. I had worn dozens of masks in my life, but something about this one made me uneasy. I couldn’t explain it. Taking a long swig from the red cup of beer, I held the bearded skeleton mask out toward the man in the jester mask. He tilted his head to the side to express his confusion. I smiled at him and gestured toward the mask. “Not my style,” I replied as politely as I could. “I’ll have a few beers, but I’ll pass on the borrowed mask. Sounds like an awesome way to catch COVID.” “I don’t think you understand,” said the jester in a booming voice. He pushed the mask back toward my chest. I could see over his shoulder that the outer rim of the crowd had fallen silent. Dozens of masked faces turned toward us and watched our exchange. A few of the larger guys donning floppy masks and fraternity shirts stepped out of the crowd and began to walk toward us. “Wear the mask or get out of here. Are you too good for my mask?” My eyes scanned the line of large men marching toward us. Some of them dropped their cups to the ground and clenched their fists, veins bulging under their skin. Others cracked their necks side to side as they approached. More and more of the crowd behind them turned to watch us. I tossed the beer back nervously and smiled in an attempt to calm the situation. Reaching out, I grabbed the mask and stretched it over my head. The inside of it smelled like a medical glove and the large frame caused it to shift randomly in front of my eyes. The world looked like a claymation movie as the scene before me came in and out of view. The line of fraternity guys stopped and eased their posture. Most of the crowd began to turn away and started dancing again. The jester patted me on the shoulder and laughed loudly. “That’s the spirit!” he howled. “Let’s get you another beer!” He put his hand on my back and guided me toward the crowd and waved his hand. A young woman wearing a terrifyingly realistic zombie mask darted forward. She shoved another beer into my hand as the jester began chanting for me to chug. Soon, the crowd nearest to us joined in. Feeling a mixture of peer pressure and exhilaration, I pulled the chin of the skeleton mask over my mouth and tipped the beer back. Long waves of beer poured down my throat, leaving a metallic taste in my mouth. Almost like it had set in the keg too long. I wanted to spit it out, but I was afraid of how the jester might react. Cheers erupted from the crowd of dancing college kids. Their masks bounced and contorted unnaturally as they moved. My stomach churned as it tried to settle the sudden flood of beer. My vision began to blur. “Just one more,” said a man dressed as a gorilla, shoving another beer into my hand. “Just one more and you’ll be in the spirit of things.” I once more tipped the beer back and the crowd roared with delight. That’s the last thing I remember before waking up in the corn. \_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_ They must have drugged me. My head throbbed as the rustling of the corn waxed and waned. Bright moonlight washed over the field, casting the faintest of shadows as it passed through the stalks. I looked at my watch and saw it was nearly midnight. Marcus and I arrived at the party around seven that night. It couldn’t have been longer than an hour before I had funneled the three drugged beers so I had been out in the field for at least four hours. Unsure of what to do, I decided to try to make my way out of the field. There were no landmarks available so I started walking through the rows of corn. The stalks towered overhead, unusually tall. I had no view of the field at all. I even tried to jump a few times, but the massive wall of vegetation was too high to see over. In the distance, I could see that the row of corn appeared to come to a dead end. Most of my life had been spent living in a mid-sized city and I didn’t know much about farming, but I knew it was odd. Corn was planted in neat rows. A nervous bubbling grew in my stomach as I grew closer to the end of the row. When I was a few feet from the end, I saw that the row didn’t end. There was a ninety-degree right turn. I went around the bend to see another turn about twenty feet ahead of me, leading to the left. It wasn’t a damn cornfield. It was a maze. In frustration, I sat on the ground and began to run my hands through my hair. Panicked thoughts raced through my head as I tried to figure out what the hell was going on. None of it made sense. The fraternity hosting the party had drugged my drinks, but why? Was it some kind of hazing ritual? No, that wouldn’t make sense. I hadn’t pledged to any fraternities and I wasn’t popular enough to be approached by one directly. Was it a practical joke? Probably so, but what the hell was the point? None of those guys knew me. Regardless of why they drugged me and dumped me in the middle of some stupid maze, I was terrified. The corn was unnaturally tall and the rustling noise produced by the wind in the plants made me feel like something was moving through them, watching me. Hunting me, even. Some ancient sense filled my body with the dread that something stalked me. And then I heard a voice. “Found your mask back where we left you,” it shouted from a few rows away. “I thought you knew the rules! Gotta leave your mask on! Don’t worry, I’ll bring it to you. Just hold tight!” Heavy footsteps began to mingle with the rustling of the dry corn. “We have to punish you for breaking the rules, though,” he shouted again. “It’ll hurt, but I’ll try to make it quick.” Bolts of panic filled my body and I jumped from the ground and began to run back in the direction that I had come. My body weight was trending forward, causing me to fall to the ground before regaining my feet and running as quickly as I could. “Over here!” shouted the voice I assumed belonged to the jester. “He’s running back to where we left him! No cheating, pledges! Stay in the maze! Anyone caught running through the rows will be punished!” Dozens of footsteps filled the air now like a demonic herd of cattle moving through the field. Brief glimpses of masked faces appeared and vanished rapidly in the rows beside me. Some of them were so close I could hear their ragged, hot breath billowing inside of their rubber masks. Their hands reached out, slapping the dry stalks of corn. It created a deafening web of noise all around me. I couldn’t tell if I was surrounded, by the symphony of terrifying sounds at least gave me that impression. “Only one pledge spot to fill this year, boys!” came the voice of the jester. “Whoever brings me his ears will join our brotherhood!” A chorus of laughter broke out around me in response to the macabre order. There was a boiling sensation of fear and anger in my stomach as my feet hammered the ground, pushing me back toward the clearing where I had woken up. I had no plan, operating off of pure fear and adrenaline. As I neared the end of the row into the clearing where I had awoken, I saw the jester standing with his back turned away from me. In his left hand, I saw the skeleton mask and in his right, he held a long-bladed knife. In a mixture of terror and rage, I barreled toward him and tackled him to the ground. The knife and mask tumbled to the ground as we slammed to the earth with a sickening thud. His head smacked heavily against a rock protruding from the ground. A gust of air and a whimper burst from the jester’s mouth as I landed on top of him. Unsure if he was still conscious, I pushed myself up from the ground and grabbed the knife. Turning back toward him, I pointed the knife in his direction. At first, I thought he was dead until I saw his back rise and fall, taking shallow breaths. I inched toward him, knife still outstretched, ready for him to attack. He never moved. Kneeling, I settled my knee in the center of his back. He groaned in pain but remained in place. Slowly, I tugged the jester mask off of his head. His face was a ruin of fractures and lacerations from his fall on the rock. Dark red blood traced through his messy mop of blonde hair. His glazed eyes twitched and struggled to focus on my face. “You better… better…” he coughed and a spray of blood and phlegm peppered the ground in front of his mouth. “Better run, man. They won’t stop…” I could still hear footfalls in the distance and the whisper of the cornstalks. They would be there soon and I knew I had to move. I needed to slow them down. Buy me some time. Then I saw the discarded skeleton mask. Everyone at the party had seen me wearing it. Maybe it would throw them off. I grabbed the crumpled mask and tugged it over the blonde man’s head. He fought weekly against me, but I was able to get it onto him without much trouble. After I placed it on his head, I took grabbed his jester mask and put it on. It was disgusting, but maybe they would recognize the mask and think I was one of them. The smell inside nearly made me vomit again. Sweat and the thick scent of copper overwhelmed me. Warm, sticky fluid made the rubber cling to my face. A mixture of the jester’s blood and sweat, no doubt. Voices behind me began to grow loud and the sound of hands brushing against the rows of corn swelled. They were getting closer. I had to leave and hope that the man wearing my mask would slow them down. At first, I considered bursting through the rows of corn to run in a straight line but thought better of it quickly. The noise would be immense and alert them to my location instantly. Even if they didn’t hear me breaking through the dry stalks, the visible path I would leave behind would provide them with a direct path to track me. I moved toward one of the rows of corn and carefully pushed two of them aside, leaving enough room for me to slide through. Carefully, I lifted one leg and sat it down on the other side of the row. Once I had solid footing, I brought through my second foot and gently released the two stalks I was holding, and allowed them to lazily bounce back into place. I performed the same separation and step-through move on the second row of corn, leaving two rows between myself and the jester’s battered body. I hoped the group would find him and be satisfied that it was me on the ground, but there was no way to be sure. If they discovered that it was their friend on the ground, I had no way to be sure they wouldn’t ignore the rules and burst through the maze walls to search for me directly. “There he is!” I heard a voice shout in the distance. It sounded hauntingly familiar, but in my panic, I couldn’t figure out where I had heard him before. At the party most likely. “He’s on the ground! His ears are mine!” Between the rows of stalks, I could see a young man wearing a werewolf mask run toward the body. The jester, now wearing my skull mask, pushed himself onto his back and held up his shaking hands toward the approaching man. He stood over the broken man and pulled a knife from his belt. “Put your hands down and take it like a man,” the werewolf said and kicked the jester in the ribs. A loud crunch exploded from his side as a high-pitched whine escaped the mask. “I’m just taking your ears. Sit still and I’ll cut them clean off. Won’t even hurt… that much. You may even make it to the main road before you bleed to death!” The werewolf kneeled and reached his hand toward the top of the skeleton mask. I had been transfixed by the events, but suddenly I realized my half-clever diversion was being wasted as I watched them. Moving as quietly and quickly as I could, I began to slip carefully between the rows. All the while, I prayed I was moving closer to the edge of the field instead of farther in. “Guys!” shouted the werewolf. “It’s Brandon! The son of a bitch hurt him! I think… it looks like he smashed his head on a rock and broke his ribs.” *Asshole*, I thought to myself as I pushed through the corn. *I busted his head up but you broke his ribs.* I almost chuckled to myself at the thought, half maddened as I was. Footfalls sounded behind me as the cluster of psychotic pledges pounded through the field looking for me. My heart thundered against my chest as I continued to quietly slide between the rows of corn one at a time. With each successful pass, the sound of the mob grew a bit quieter. Even with their leader killed or out of commission, they seemed dedicated to holding to their rule of not breaking through the corn maze walls. It was a relief, but I still doubted I would be able to move out of the field quickly enough to escape them. Even if I did, there was no telling how far I was from my car. Even if I found it, Marcus had the keys. In the distance, I thought I could hear the sound of cars. My heart filled with hope and I began to move a bit more quickly toward the noise. For a moment I had hope that I would escape. Suddenly there was the sound of snapping corn stalks behind me. I looked over my shoulder to see glimpses of the werewolf mask bounding after me through the rows of corn. He was alone and must have assumed the other pledges wouldn’t see him. My reliance on them sticking to their own rules had failed. “I see you,” he whispered as he pushed through the corn. That same familiar voice scratched at my ears. “Stop running and this can all be over.” I began to run faster through the rows. Leaves and corn cobs smacked against my face. He was gaining on me. His footfalls were near behind me. My mind raced between turning to fight and continuing my failing escape attempt. “It’s done, Danny!” He shouted. “It’ll be so much easier if you would just give in. All I need are your ears!” Danny. He called me Danny. The werewolf knew me. I stopped and spun around to face him. The jester’s knife was still clutched in my hand and I held it toward the werewolf. He stopped in place and held out his knife toward me. “Marcus?” I asked between gulping breaths. “What the hell? Marcus?” The werewolf grabbed the tuft of hair on top of the mask and pulled it off. Before me in the cornfield stood my best friend, Marcus. A hateful smirk curled his lip. His hair was matted to his head with sweat and his eyes were full of madness, but it was him. I pulled off the stolen jester mask and stared in bewilderment at Marcus. “Sorry, buddy,” he said calmly. “I hate that it had to be you.” “Why are you doing this?” I said, holding back my desire to scream. It would only have attracted the rest of the murderous pledges. “You don’t have to go through with this. We’re… shit… I thought we were friends.” Marcus lifted his free hand and wiped the streams of sweat away from his face. You could see the moisture evaporate from his skin in the cool night air. His smirk faded away and turned into a determined glare. “I’m tired of being nobody,” he said flatly. “Being a face in the crowd at a party doesn’t bother most people, but I’ve spent too much of my life being ignored. I pledged the frat but didn’t tell you. I knew you wouldn’t support it. You think you’re better than them. You think you’re better than me.” “Marcus, I’m sorry,” I muttered. He was inching toward me and I walked backward, catching my feet on the stalks and stumbling. “You’re not like them. This isn’t you. Let’s get out of here. We’ll get you some help. We can…” Before I could finish my sentence, my shoe tangled in a half-bent stalk of corn and I tumbled onto my back. The air rushed out of my lungs and bright white stars shot across my field of vision. I couldn’t see him, but I heard Marcus say something under his breath and the sound of his feet hitting the ground as he began to run toward me. I held the knife out in front of me as my vision steadied. Just in time to see Marcus. He was running toward me, knife above his head. Preparing to plunge it into me and I lay helplessly on the ground. *This is it*, I thought. *Killed in a damn corn maze.* Marcus was just above me, swinging the knife in a high arc when I made my final desperate move. I picked up my right leg and drove it into his knee. The joint hyperextended, angled in the wrong direction. He fell to the ground shrieking in pain. The knife flew from his hand and into the row behind us. His howls of misery filled the air. I knew it would draw the rest of the pack. They were far enough away that it would be difficult for them to figure out where we were immediately, but I knew if it continued, they would find us in a matter of moments. At that moment, I did the worst thing I had ever done. The worst thing I ever would do. I placed the knife to his neck and ran the blade from ear to ear. His cries and bellows ceased immediately. Dark crimson blood began to pour from the wound, bubbling as he attempted to speak. He reached for me and took ahold of my sleeve, but I slapped his weak hand away. As I stood to leave, he reached a hand toward me, gesturing for help. I looked into his eyes. The madness was gone. It was Marcus again, my friend. He was dying and I had dealt the killing blow. Only moments later, his hand went limp and fell to the ground. Hot tears streamed down my face and bile rolled in my stomach. I had to get out of there. I needed help. I wanted to survive. The field was mostly quiet again. A cool breeze picked up and began to rustle through the corn again. The dry leaves crackled and scraped against each other. In the distance, I heard the horde yelling again. They weren’t close yet, but they would be soon. My mind was still hazy from the drugs and I was struggling to recover from having the air knocked out of me. All of my energy had been exerted during my escape attempt from Marcus. My tank was empty. I had killed my friend. The pack of pledges would find me soon. Even if I did manage to escape, what cop would believe any of it? I reached into my pocket and pulled out the crushed pack of cigarettes and a lighter. If I was going to die, I thought I should have one last cigarette. Soothe my nerves and enjoy one final thing before I went. Placing the bent cigarette in my mouth, I cupped the end of the lighter and put the flame on the tip of my cigarette. As I was taking a drag to keep it lit, a cornstalk bent in the breeze and pushed a dried leaf into the flame of my lighter. It began to ignite rapidly. In a panic, I swatted at the burning stalk and smothered the fire. The smoke and light would lead them right to me. There was no need to draw attention to me any more quickly. Besides, it would ignite the entire field. That was it. Set the field on fire. Trap them inside. Cigarette dangling from my mouth, I placed the lighter on one of the dry stalks in front of me and sparked the flint. A tiny flame danced from the end of the lighter and spread across the dry leaves. It lept from stalk to stalk in a matter of moments. I passed through the row of corn behind me and set two more stalks ablaze. Just like the first round, the tightly packed stalks of corn passed the flames between each other like cancer. The immense light illuminated the light. As I passed through the third row, I set a final blaze before turning to run toward the sounds of the road. I must have run through the seemingly endless rows for ten minutes before I finally hit the edge. A wide-open field spread in front of me and beyond it sat the country road that had carried me and my best friend to this ill-fated party. I turned toward the cornfield a final time before I collapsed to the ground. What had been only a few small fires when I left had turned into an enormous blaze. The flames licked toward the night sky, dancing like spirits against the dark backdrop. Over the crackles of the blaze, I could swear I heard [screams.](https://www.reddit.com/r/gtripp14/comments/uyezti/making_it_easier_to_keep_track_of_my_new_releases/)

My dad sold my soul to the devil

y53krj

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y53krj/my_dad_sold_my_soul_to_the_devil/

Yup, just about as crazy as the title sounds. My dad is what they call a "macho man". All he wanted was sons. He lived and breathed for "another Keller boy." Naturally, when my older brother was born, he was overjoyed. Three years later, he begged my mom to have another son. When he found out we were twins, he was excited to have three sons. So when my brother and I came out, and he saw that I was a girl, he was despaired. I've always been his least favourite kid, and he never tried to hide it. While he named my brothers Anthony and David, which mean priceless and beloved respectfully, he named me Lilith, which literally means night monster. While my brothers and mom tried to soften that direct punch to the gut by calling me Lili, he insisted on us all calling me Lilith, so I could "feel the disappointment that he felt the day I was born." Clearly him and my mom did not stay married, and quite unfortunately he signed for full custody when Anthony was five, and David and I two. Things just got worse from there. If he took Anthony and David out to eat or to see a movie, I was to stay home. He spent all his time playing sports with my brothers, and wouldn't let me join even though I, as a girl, actually showed a genuine interest in what he was doing with my brothers. When I was four, dad got cancer. And from what I heard, it was supposed to be terminal. That's where the title of this story comes into play. Yup, he made a deal with Satan. 15 more years of life if he sold one of his children's' souls. And big surprise, he chose me. So once I die, it's off to hell, no matter how little I sin or how much I pray. The first time I remember something happening to me was about a month after my dad made that deal. I was in my tiny, cramped room, trying to sleep on a bed I outgrew years ago, while my brothers and dad watched a movie downstairs, when I saw it. This thing in my closet. It was pale, with gaunt, sunken eyes and a gaping mouth. It's long and bony fingers wrapped around my closet door. There was no question that this thing was a demon. I immediately cried for my dad, who stormed up the stairs and gave me a proper beating for interrupting his movie night with his kids. After that, he called me a little girl for crying and locked me in my room. As I cried all that night, the demon simply watched me from the closet, unmoving. Demons watching me were pretty normal from then on. Sometimes it would be the pale gaunt thing in my closet, other times a dark figure hovering over my bed. And on bad nights, a horned figure with glowing red eyes would stare at me, taunting me through the window. After a while, I stopped being scared of them. One night when I was nine, the gaunt creature was back in my closet, staring at me while I read. He began to make this really weird growling noise, to which I shushed him. He then did something he never did before. While he would occasionally wrap his hand around my slightly ajar door, he never actually came out of my closet. Until that night. In one swift movement, he tore open my closet door and stood up fully, revealing he was taller than the ceiling itself. He bent his neck in an abnormal way to fit under the roof. I rightfully should've been shitting my pants at this moment, but for some reason, I just wasn't that scared. We locked eyes for a while, which was more awkward than scary, so I just went back to reading my book. He just looked at me curiously for a while, until my dad decided he wanted to be a horrible person again, and threw open my door to yell at me for something or other. The entire time the demon just watched. Thankfully my dad left after slapping me across the face, but I was crying again for the rest of the night. The demon, who now looked at me with something more than curiosity, looked back at my closed door, trying to see my dad. As I did nothing but sob, the demon just sat down beside my bed, towering over me. Neither of us looked at each other the rest of the night, I cried while he just stared off in the distance, but I wasn't alone, and that was all I cared about. From then on things changed. I wasn't just not scared of the demons, I welcomed them. Especially the gaunt looking one who sat by me that night. He would sit with me whenever my dad was bad to me, or whenever I had boy troubles at school. He never talked at me, and barely ever looked at me, but all I cared about was that he was there for me.I even gave him a name. Papa. I remember this one night, I was fourteen, and upset because Jacob, the boy I liked, didn't invite me to the Valentine's Dance at our school. On top of that, my dad had gotten into one of his moods, and had thrown a chair at me. When I ran into my room, I was almost relieved to see Papa crouched by the closet. "Papa!" I cried, running to him. It was stupid, I know, I was calling a literal demon papa, but I had nobody else. He was the only one who had ever shown me any sympathy. At first he stepped back, but as I cried even harder, he looked at me in the eyes, maybe for the first time since that night he stepped out of the closet. Then he did something surprising. He hugged me back. As I felt his icy cold hands wrap around me, I should've been terrified, but I was filled with love. Love, for finally finding a dad who loved me. But one night, as I was reading To Kill A Mockingbird for my school project, I made a mistake. Papa looked curious, so I decided to read out loud to him. I guess I made too much noise though, because David opened my door. "Lilith, who the hell are you- WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT!?" He screamed, and my dad came rushing up. Papa couldn't hide in time, and now, Anthony, David, and my dad all stared him down. He stood up, revealing his giant stature, and David began to cry, while Anthony froze in place and my dad ran off to get a vial of holy water he had kept by his bed ever since the deal was made. As I tried to run away with Papa, he stopped me and shook his head. We both knew it was too late. I cried as I hugged him goodbye, and as my dad approached us with the holy water and sprayed it on Papa, he let out a blood-curdling screech that could've been heard across the country. I watched in horror as Papa, who had stayed by my side all these years, faded to nothingness. "There." Dad said. "It can't hurt us anymore, sons." He said, embracing David and Anthony in a hug. I just laid over Papa's lifeless body, uncontrollably sobbing. We were all so caught up in our own worlds we didn't notice something come up behind us. He was large, even bigger than Papa, and had two large horns, a goat's head, and a large stick in his hand. Dad turned around slowly, looking to this thing as he glared down at my abuser. "Your majesty, I-" "We had a deal, Stanley. I granted you 15 more years of life, on two conditions. TWO!" It boomed, and I noticed David had wet himself. "It was a misunderstanding, sir, my daughter-" "You were granted 15 more years of life, on the conditions that I get your daughter upon her death, AND... you never harm anyone, ever again. Do you understand?" It asked. "Yes, and I haven't. Promise." The creature laughed. "First you break a promise, and now you lie? To his Satanic majesty himself? Seeing you have not only harmed your daughter her entire life, but have killed one of my best minions, you have broken my trust. I'm breaking off the deal." My dad got down on his knees. "NO, please I'll do anything." He begged. Satan looked at me. "There is one way; if Lilith, your daughter and the one you cursed, forgives you. I will set you free, and you will live the rest of your life." My dad slowly turned to me, and put on a smile. "Hey, Lili, what about it? Look at me, I'm your dad. Your papa. I raised you. Don't you love me? I'm your dad, for fuck's sake!" He said, getting more agitated as I stared at him. "It's up to you, Lilith." Satan said. I looked to Papa's body on the floor, then back to my dad. "Come on, you gonna believe Satan, or your dear ol' dad?" My dad said, pleading to me. I glared at him. "My dad is dead, bitch. You killed him." I said. "I don't forgive you." And with that, Satan dragged my dad down to the netherworld, my brothers and I hearing his screams until it was far away enough that it faded away, to where he could never hurt me again. As my brothers cried in the loss of their dad, I walked back to Papa, on the ground, and kissed his forehead. "Goodbye, Papa. Thank you."

The latest play at my local theatre gets VERY positive reviews.

y5zzc8

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y5zzc8/the_latest_play_at_my_local_theatre_gets_very/

There’s this old theatre near my house. Very decrepit, rusting, sagging with age. I don’t think it’s been open for nearly 40 years. I never thought much of it - there are a lot of abandoned buildings in the part of town I live in. At least I didn’t - until it happened. One day, I was driving past the theatre when I noticed it. The rust and decay had been cleared away. The theatre bore a fresh new coat of jaunty red paint. The marquee was lit up with lights so bright they nearly blinded me, and bore the words: THE GREAT SHOW - 8:00 PM. I was surprised, to be sure. I had driven past that theatre nearly every day, and I hadn’t seen even a hint of any sort of restoration. Did someone do this all in one night? It was unlikely, but that seemed like the only plausible explanation. While I was surprised, I wasn’t considering attending the show. I’ve never liked the theatre, not even a bit. I wasn’t planning to give it any more thought. I hadn’t given it any more thought until one of my coworkers went up to me one day on my lunch break. “Hey!” he said. I was surprised. I had barely spoken to this guy before. I don’t even think I knew his name. “Um, hi?” I asked, a little confused. “Have you seen that play? At the theatre?” “No. Why?” I responded. “You definitely should go. It was a life-changing experience. Every part of it was completely perfect.” He was acting weird, but the rave review had piqued my interest. “What’s it about?” He froze. I could see the smile fall off his face. “Um…” He said. I was starting to get a little nervous. I wondered if he was playing a joke of sorts on me, but I didn’t think so. I could see him frantically searching the crevasses of his mind, looking for an answer. “I don’t really remember.” He admitted, after a minute. “But I did enjoy it a lot. That’s all you need to know.” Then he walked off. I had to pass the theatre to get home from work. It looked the same as before, but this time I got a bad feeling about it. Things continued on for a couple days. It seemed like everyone I met was singing the praises of this show. When I went online, I found hundreds of reviews, all saying that the play was “Life-Changing” and “Revolutionary”. Yet I couldn’t find anything saying what the play was actually about. Not anywhere. It was never mentioned in the reviews, and anyone who I asked in real life couldn’t remember. I didn’t know it at the time, but this was tame compared with what was to come. The next thing I noticed was changes in my coworkers. It started with the first guy who had approached me. I noticed he became paler - his eyes were reddening, and his hair started to grey and even fall out in some spots. He was at his desk, but he barely seemed to be working. He was just tapping on the keyboard, absent-mindedly. I looked over his shoulder, and it seemed like he was just typing nonsense - a slurry of random characters and punctuation marks. I tried to approach him. “Hello?” I called. The typing stopped. Slowly, he began to swivel his office chair around to face me. From up close, I could see how much worse he had become. The bald spots on his head, which had previously seemed to have fallen out on their own, were now evidently torn off - I could see the scars. “Yes?” He rasped, in a low, husky voice. “Have you seen it?” I hadn’t heard him speak much, but I knew that this voice wasn’t his own. I lost my nerve. I just ran back to my cubicle. I found him again that night. I was driving past the theatre when I saw him, shambling towards the entrance like some sort of reanimated corpse. I stopped the car and watched him closely. He walked on and on until he reached the entrance. He stopped at the front door. It swung open for him. I was immediately taken by surprise. Instead of seeing a theatre lobby, I saw nothing but a cheap, grease-stained carpet floor shrouded by a thick fog. That was when he turned around and saw me. I panicked. The fog began to leak from the theatre, and encompassed my car quickly. It happened so fast I barely had time to react. I looked outside, and saw that I was no longer in my neighbourhood. I was in an endless parking lot. I tried to start my car, but it wouldn’t work. The gas levels were normal, so it couldn’t be that. I had no choice but to get out and start walking. It felt like I had been walking for ages across the eternal rows of empty parking spots when I finally saw something in the distance. It was the theatre. It looked even worse than when it was abandoned. The roof was close to caving in - the marquee was slanted at an unsafe angle. Most of the bulbs were burnt out, and the few that weren’t sent a shower of sparks onto the asphalt. The last thing I wanted was to go in - but I didn’t know what else to do. Hesitantly, I walked inside. It somehow looked even more dilapidated on the inside. Rotting wood pillars reached to the ceiling. A greasy carpet like the one I had seen through the door went from wall to wall. A few bulbs hung from the ceiling, casting a dim light upon the building. I saw something in the corner - an old ticket booth. To my surprise, the station was manned by an ancient, rusty robot, attached to the stand. It sprang to life the moment I went up to it. It was in the shape of a normal human, and was wearing a decaying usher's uniform. The name tag was too worn to make out anything. In a rusty, metallic, inhuman voice it screeched - “TICKETS. NO ADMISSION.” An iron hand shot out from somewhere, holding a single ticket. I took it from the automaton’s hand as quickly as possible, lest it try to grab me. As soon as the ticket left its hand, it slumped back into its original position. At this point, I was scared out of my mind. But I felt like I had to press onwards - like an invisible being was forcing me to do it. I walked slowly into the door with the sign that bore the words “THEATRE”. The theatre looked like the rest of the place - old, rotting, and falling apart. My ticket held the words, “A3”. I went to the front row, and there it was. It was difficult to find, because the metal nameplates on the chairs were almost rusted beyond decipherability, but I made it. I sat down. The curtains slowly drew open. It was nearly two hours later when I emerged from the theatre back into the real world, a changed man. I know my fate - I have seen what happens to those who indulge in it. But, my god, the play was good. It was perfect - in every unimaginable way. It showed me everything - all of it. All that there is and all that there ever will be. I saw it all. So, why am I telling you this? Consider it something of a review. I know that you might feel apprehensive towards it - I did too. But you must see it. You must.

Are All Big Cities Like This?

y58tgu

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y58tgu/are_all_big_cities_like_this/

The old woman looked at my suitcase and sniffed. “That’s all you packed?” I shrugged. “Just the essentials. Figured I’d have my family ship me the rest of my stuff once I’m sure of where I’m staying.” She nodded. “Well, if you decide to stay here, just remember to pay your rent. You’ve only paid me for this month.” Here, it happens, was a one-room apartment in a dingy complex on 131st street, a dark and dirty street in one of the cheapest areas of the city. I didn’t really expect to be staying here for long. Still, the rent was almost comically cheap, and it had a bed and running water. That would have to suffice until I found somewhere better. “First time in the city?” The old woman asked after showing me how to work the archaic lock on my door. I nodded. “Well, it’s not much different from any other city. But every city has its own little quirks you need to get used to.” I nodded again, pretending I was interested. “This city, for example, has a wide variety of weather. There’s rain, drizzling rain, pouring rain, rain and fog, and when we’re really lucky, hail.” She gestured at some dents in the roof as she mentioned the hail. “But there are a few quirks you should know about.” She continued. “Common sense stuff, but you country folk seem to have a different kind of common sense. I’ll write you a list, so you don’t go getting yourself into trouble.” With that, she left. Once I’d unpacked my clothes and laptop and checked that the bed was reasonably clean, I decided to take a nap. The walls seemed thin, but I couldn’t hear anything from the apartments next to or below me, for which I was grateful. I was awoken about twenty minutes later by a knock at the door, followed by a shuffling sound as the old woman pushed a slip of paper under the door. I heard her footsteps heading back down the hall as I picked it up and skimmed through the list. *Rule One: This isn’t an election year. If you see someone asking you to vote, ignore them.* Okay, that was a little weird. Maybe it was some sort of scam. *Rule Two: If someone approaches you while it’s foggy and offers you a wish, politely decline and leave. Do not give them anything, and do not say anything that could be interpreted as a wish. If they follow you, keep walking and ignore them.* That was weirder. *Rule Three: If you are out at night and hear the sound of a frog behind you, run. Get home as fast as you can, and do not look behind you until you are in bed.* Now I was just creeped out. I debated running outside and demanding the old woman explain herself, but I figured I should read the rest first. *Rule Four: Don’t piss off anyone from the Nōne crime syndicate.* Okay, that one made perfect sense. Maybe the weird ones were just to make sure I was paying attention. *Rule Five: Don’t look into any storm drains, no matter what you hear.* Or not. I shoved the list into my pocket. Not something I want to deal with right now. *** Once I was settled, I stepped outside and went in search of food. As soon as I exited the apartment, the scale of my new home struck me once again – the towering black skyscrapers that seemed to loom over the entire city, the dark roads that seemed just a little too narrow, the thick black clouds covering the sky and unleashing an endless drizzle of chilling rain. The streets were lined with endless buildings, even the smallest of which must have been at least four or five stories. Narrow alleys ran between them, seemingly too small for anyone to walk down, and yet I knew from the graffiti that people must walk there constantly. Everything in the city had a looming presence, a sort of twisted grandeur. I had the sudden realization that there were probably people in this city who had never actually seen a field, nothing but the endless stifling presence of countless black buildings. I wondered about the people who lived in these other buildings – the run-down tenements, the luxurious skyscrapers. My phone struggled to find a signal – apparently, my normal cell carrier didn’t service the city – but I was able to get the maps app to open. The area I was in was largely old warehouses and equally old apartments, with few shops around, but the map pointed out a small café not too many blocks from me. It seemed like a good enough option. *** The café was located on the bottom floor of a ten-story building, but judging by the lack of lighting anywhere else in the building, the café was the only part still in use. A sign above the door read, “Anne’s Café: Try Our Red Velvet Cupcakes!” A smaller sign taped to the door read, “Endorsed by Aki Nōne.” That gave me pause. I didn’t move into the city blind. Financial circumstances may not have given me a choice about the move, but I still did my research, and I’d read about Nōne before. The idea of entering a café seemingly favored by someone who would call themselves the “Crime Princess” worried me, no matter how cheery and welcoming the café seemed. Still, I was hungry. And in a way, maybe a building openly endorsed by a mob boss would be safer, in its own way. Who would dare to commit a crime against a place like that? With those thoughts in mind, I pushed open the door and stepped inside. I felt a little foolish about my nerves once I really looked around. It was a simple mom-and-pop place – well-lit, wooden tables and chairs, nice tablecloths that looked hand-sewn. Upbeat music played quietly from a radio behind the counter, and the smell of freshly-baked cupcakes filled the air. “Are you alright?” I jumped and looked around. The voice came from the sole other customer, a young man wearing a black suit with an emblem of a black bird emblazoned above his heart. A mug of coffee and a collection of mini cupcakes sat on the table before him. He had messy black hair and deep blue eyes, eyes which were currently looking at me with mild concern. “You look worried.” I shook my head. “No, it’s nothing much. I just moved here, so I’m feeling a little out of place.” “Let me guess,” he said with a laugh. “The sign about Nōne endorsing this place made you think you were walking into a syndicate front operation?” I felt my face redden, and he laughed again. “Don’t worry, the endorsement is literal. Her Highness adores red velvet cupcakes, and this place makes the best in the city.” I relaxed a bit and went up to the counter to place my order. The woman running the café was quiet and seemed tired, but I got a friendly vibe from her. Once I’d gotten my sandwich and smoothie, I turned to find a table, but the young man waved me to his table. Feeling awkward about accepting but feeling more awkward about refusing, I sat across from him. He introduced himself as Zach and said he worked nearby. “You just moved here?” He asked, opening a packet of salt and pouring it into his coffee. “Yeah, from the country, so it’s...quite an adjustment.” He laughed. “I can imagine. I’m from out-of-town too, but I grew up in a city, so it wasn’t quite as big of an adjustment. This city is…certainly unique, though. Don’t worry; you’ll get used to the city’s eccentricities.” I sighed, remembering my landlady. “Eccentricities, huh…” “What?” I shook my head. “Nothing. The landlady of my apartment just gave me this weird list of ‘city rules’ when I moved in.” “Really?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. I pulled the list from my pocket and handed it to him. “Huh.” He muttered, skimming through it. “‘Vote For G’…Wishgranter…The Kirigari Man…Cutter Clinic…” He sipped his coffee. “Seems like your landlady’s been around the block quite a few times.” “You know what those rules mean?” I felt a vague prickle of fear on my back, but I wasn’t sure why. “Sure.” He answered. “The city’s major urban legends. She missed a few – personally, I’d have swapped the Kirigari Man for the Raven; more people have seen that one, but she got the major ones. And the obvious one of not annoying Princess Nōne.” He slid the note back to me and popped one of the mini cupcakes into his mouth. “So they’re just urban legends, then.” I felt relieved at that, knowing they weren’t anything to actually worry about. I also felt a little annoyed at my landlady for wasting my time with them. “That doesn’t mean they’re not true.” He said pointedly, adding more salt to his coffee. “But not something you’ll need to worry about, I imagine. You don’t seem like the sort to get caught up in stuff like that. It’s still good of your landlady to warn you, though.” I shrugged. I would have preferred that she not give me pointless things to worry about. “Mind if I ask where you’re staying?” he asked. “This café isn’t really a tourist spot, so I’m assuming you live nearby.” He leaned back and sipped his coffee. “Yeah, a few blocks off,” I answered. “I rented an apartment on 131st.” With a choking gasp, Zach spat out his coffee, barely missing me. “Are you okay?!” I asked as Zach struggled for breath. “Ye-yeah.” He shook his head. “Where did you say you live?” “An apartment on 131st?” His eyes narrowed now, and he stood. “You’ll probably find this very weird, and you’re free to say no, but would you allow me to walk you back there?” “Why? His eyes darted evasively. “Well, it’s late at night, and that’s a bad part of town. Safety in numbers and all that.” It was odd. I could tell that wasn’t the reason, and beyond that, I knew nothing about him, yet something inside me was screaming at me to accept his offer. It was the same strange feeling I’d had since I arrived in the city, that something was wrong, something was missing. This strange feeling now told me to listen to him if I wanted to fix that. “Sure.” *** Zach was quiet for most of the walk back, not speaking until we stood before the door to the apartment complex. “You’ve been humoring me quite a bit already,” he said, “but I’d like to ask you to humor me for one more thing.” “What?” “I’d like to go in ahead of you. Just for a few minutes.” Once again, I had a strange feeling that I should accept. I did, and Zach disappeared inside, telling me to please wait for the next six minutes. I felt the world close around me as he vanished into the darkness, as though swallowed up by a gaping maw. In my mind, slight shadows down the alleyways turned into lurking figures waiting for me to drop my guard. My eyes darted to the nearby storm drain, my ears scanning for any vague noise, half-convinced that I was about to hear the croaking of a frog behind me. With no rational cause, my heart started pounding, and a cold bead of sweat traced its way down my spine. Despite my fears that I had been abandoned, almost exactly six minutes later, Zach exited. Carrying my luggage. “Wh-” Zach cut me off. “I’ll explain in a minute. Just follow me, and don’t look back until we’re across the street.” There was an intensity to his voice that made it impossible to refuse. Zach walked across the street, not hurrying, but with nervous energy to his step. I followed behind, feeling the urge to look behind me but worried I’d lose sight of him if I did. The trip across the street felt far longer than the twenty seconds it probably took, but we reached the other side. Zach set down my luggage and gestured for me to look back at my apartment. I did. All I could do was stare in horror at what I had thought was my apartment building. “One more rule for that little list,” Zach said. A wry smile crossed his lips. “There has never been an apartment on 131st street.” [x](https://www.deviantart.com/redherochild) [y](https://www.reddit.com/user/DarthVitrial/comments/y5v2q6/black_phoenix_story_glossary/)

I Wish They Wouldn’t Come Knocking

y5wexx

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y5wexx/i_wish_they_wouldnt_come_knocking/

The following has been transcribed from a note found in an abandoned residence. …. I wish they wouldn't come knocking, late at night when I'm sleeping. For when I wake in a terrified state I can hear them, knock, knock, knocking I wrote that when I was… 10? Or maybe 11? Whatever age you are in grade 5. We had just finished our poetry unit in English class, and all had to write something. Most of my classmates wrote some cheesy bullshit about their parents or family; a couple even wrote about their playground crushes. Me? Well, I wrote about my personal torment. What kind of torment can a 10-year-old have? Why ghosts of the dead keeping you up at night, of course! Okay, okay. So I've gotta go back, like way back to when we first moved into our house. My parents worked their asses off so they could finally buy our little family of four a home to call our own. No more paying rent to some lazy asshole who couldn’t be bothered to fix a fucking hole in our roof; I swear that guy would watch my mom through the window sometimes and... Sorry, I’m getting off-topic. The point is, we were all really excited to have a place to call our own. The pride my father had as he took us by the hand and led us through each room, he was simply gleaming. It was a raised bungalow with two bedrooms upstairs and an unfinished basement. If I’m being honest, as happy as I was to finally have our own space, I remember being a little upset with dear old Dad. You see, once we got to the house, he informed me that I would need to share a bedroom with my little sister until my room was finished. “Share a room with her?! No way!” I yelled at my father from across the room. “She will get into all my stuff and want me to play dolls with her. You said before I’d get my own room! This isn’t fair!” I spat as I stomped my way outside to sit in the car. Geez, looking back on this moment, I was such a fucking brat. My parents left me alone in the car for a few minutes before my father came strolling out with his hands in his pockets while he looked down at the ground. I can’t imagine what must have been going through his mind after what I said; the personal triumph he felt must have been stripped away with my little outburst. He never showed it, though; my father was the most patient and kind-hearted man I ever knew. He opened the car door and knelt down to be at eye level with me as he spoke in a soft voice, “I promised you your room, and you’ll have it as soon as possible. There's a lot of work that needs to be done in the basement, but once I do that, you’ll have your own room and a rec room as well.” I quietly sighed to myself; I think even back then, I knew what a little brat I had just been. I turned and looked at my Father. “Yeah, that sounds really cool, Dad. Thank you, I’m sorry.” as I finished the half-assed apology, my Dad immediately picked me up out of the car, threw me over his shoulder, and carried me inside. At the same time, I laughed and screamed for him to let me go. We had pizza for dinner, spent the night playing games, and the following day Mom made pancakes! After that, we got to work unpacking; my dad finished the basement; I grew up in that house until I was eighteen, went to college, and got a great job. We all lived happily ever after the end! Aw, what a nice thought. Does it make for a better story? And they all lived…happily ever after. What? Can’t a guy live in fantasy while telling his life story? Ugh, fine. You’re no fun. It was a few weeks until my Dad had finished up my room in the basement; I can’t stress enough how excited I was to finally have my own space! My sister was a sweet girl, but a man just needs to be on his own sometimes, ya know? The day my Dad came to start moving my stuff downstairs was one of the best days ever! When I walked into the room, I was shocked at how awesome everything looked; he had painted the room just how I wanted it! The only thing left unfinished was the wall at the back of the room; it was an outside wall and was actually part of the house's foundation, so it was just concrete. It looked kind of cool unfinished like that, very modern. I was so excited to run around my room, set my things up how I wanted them, and not worry about playing “tea time” anymore! We set my bed up in the corner of my room with the concrete wall at the head of my bed. “There's nothing but dirt on the outside side of this wall, buddy, so it might get a little cold at night.” my Dad said as he laid his hand flat on the wall. Of course, the first night in my new room was a little scary, seeing as I had never slept in a room alone before. My Mom came down to tuck me in, and I asked her to leave the light on; she told me that my Dad had installed a timer on it, so she set it for an hour and left me to sleep. I fell asleep after tossing and turning for a few minutes. After that first night, I slept great in my new room and would get up a little early to play every morning before my Mom called me upstairs for breakfast! The second week that I was living in that room, I decided to stay up late to finish playing a game I had borrowed from a friend. There is nothing like playing a game in a dark room with nothing but the screen's light, am I right? I struggled to keep my eyes open, so I turned off the game and got in bed. I was just about asleep when I heard a weird noise… Knock, knock, knock. The noise was quiet but deliberate. I looked around the room for a second before thinking it was just the pipes; my Dad had warned me I might hear some strange noises like that. My eyes grew heavy again, and just before I fell asleep, I heard the noise again… Knock, knock, knock. There was no mistaking it; there was a knocking sound coming from somewhere in my room. I jumped up, ran over to my light, and turned it on, only to find my room was empty and quiet. The knocking sound repeated several more times before I realized where it was coming from. The concrete wall behind my bed, and there was no doubt in my mind a person was making the noise. Now, I was just a kid, but I had my pride. I wanted to run upstairs screaming for my parents, but I also didn’t want them to think their son was a big baby. I may not have been the brightest kid out there, but even I knew that a person couldn't be on the other side of that wall; after all, there was just dirt on the other side, right? I stood there, staring at the wall for hours until the knocking suddenly stopped. I cautiously walked up to the wall and pressed my ear up against it, feeling the cold concrete's sting. I couldn’t hear anything at all, and after a few seconds, I turned off my light and climbed back into bed. I didn’t know it at the time, but this would be the first night my torment would start. Every night for the next seven months, I would get woken up by that damn knocking. Without fail, I’d be fast asleep and would shoot up out of bed in a cold sweat to the sound of knocking just behind my head. I mentioned it to my parents so many times; my Dad was perplexed at what it might be and called in a few contractors. None of them had any answers aside from the house expanding. We ended up moving my bed across the room, but the damn knocking just got louder! It felt like I hadn’t gotten a good night's sleep in years! My school work was being affected, friends said I was acting different, hell even my teachers were concerned. Especially after that lovely little poem I wrote. My parents were at a loss, they tried sleeping in the room with me, but they never heard the sound. Only I heard it; I would wake up my Dad and point to the wall…but he never heard the knocking. He pressed his ears right up against the wall and never heard it. I thought I was losing it…so did my parents. Shortly after this, my parents decided to get me some professional help. Let me tell you, seeing a psychiatrist as a kid was one of the most awkward experiences of my short life. You’ve got to understand, I had a wonderful childhood before all this late-night knocking nonsense. This shrink asked me whether or not anyone was touching me or had ever made me feel uncomfortable. She was trying to piece together trauma that could be causing these issues, but there was nothing to piece together! I got so mad; how dare she even begin to accuse my parents of this kind of shit! We got nowhere after a few sessions, but she did diagnose me with night terrors. All that work, and the only answer she had to give us was fucking night terrors. So I kept waking up every night to that goddamn knocking. My parents finally decided to move me upstairs at the psychiatrist's recommendation, but it didn’t work. No matter where I slept, I could still hear the knocking. It didn’t make any sense, but then again, stuff like this never does, right? I didn’t want to have friends over; I fell even further behind in school, and let's just say my overall mood was less than stellar. I was tormented by whatever was knocking on the wall every night, and I was at the end of my rope. I needed it to stop; they needed to go away; I had to get some peace and quiet; I needed to get some fucking sleep! Finally, one night I had enough. I woke up the same as always, breathing heavily and in a cold sweat to the sound of the knocking. Knock, knock, knock. Jumping out of bed, I screamed as loud as possible, “LEAVE ME ALONE!” and slammed my fist against the wall. I instantly recoiled in pain for a second but returned to banging my hand against the wall, one, two, three, four, five times before I stopped. Then, there was silence. For the first time at night, the only sound in my room was my own breathing. It was so peaceful; I must have stood there just taking in the silence for an hour..before it was broken by a most gentle sound… Knock, Knock, Knock. I’m not sure what compelled me to answer…but I did. I walked up to the wall, placed my hand against it, and responded… Knock, Knock, Knock. There was nothing but silence, and I felt relief wash over me. I took a few deep breaths and turned to get back in bed. Suddenly, a new sound rang out through my room, cracking. I turned around and looked at the wall to see a large crack spreading throughout it; before I knew it, the crack was all the way up the wall, I screamed for my parents when the wall gave way, and tons of dirt fell onto the floor! The force of the wall giving way and the dirt piling into my room knocked me over, and some of the soil fell onto my legs. I could hear my parents upstairs yelling and heard footsteps coming down the stairs; tears welled up in my eyes as I looked on at the dirt. Very slowly, a decaying hand pushed its way out and grabbed ahold of me. Soon several more hands moved their way through the dirt and pulled decaying bodies out of the earth that had spilled into my room. There were several of them; they all looked at me before slowly moving towards the sound of my parents yelling. I couldn’t make a noise, not because I didn’t want to but because a cold, slick hand had grabbed me by the throat and was squeezing the life out of me. I looked upon the face of what I believe was once a man. His skin had almost all rotted off, but he had just enough left to smile at me as I heard my parent's blood-curdling screams. So, you probably have a few questions, I guess. Like what happened to my sister? Where did they come from? Why did all these undead people storm into your home and kill your family? What happened to you, and how the hell are you sharing this story with us?! Well, I’ll give you the short answers. I’m confident that my sister is very dead. I'm sure they did to her what they did to my parents, which, well, decaying dead people don’t like to see the fresh skin of living people. As far as where they came from, well, they came from the dirt. Speciallicaly from my backyard and surrounding neighborhood. Years ago, this area used to be a cemetery. The greedy bastards in this town decided to “relocate the graves” and sell this area for development. The only thing is, they didn’t move the bodies; they just took their headstones. Just think, you’re enjoying your afterlife, and suddenly you’re awoken and don’t remember your name. They STOLE your goddamn name! Why did these dead do it? It's obvious, isn’t it? Revenge! They want revenge on everyone who disturbed their rest and stole their names from them. The lack of respect for the dead must be punished; we bought the house, making us guilty. Finally, what happened to little old me. Do you remember our friend missing most of the skin on his face? He dragged me by my throat into the dirt as I kicked and tried to scream. The last thing I saw was the bloody face of my father as he tried to reach out for me, right before one of my new undead friends tore the skin from his face. A very unpleasant thing to witness for a kid. So, now here we are. After the undead killed my family, they all returned to the dirt where we’ve been ever since. The only thing is, I can’t seem to die. It’s been years, and even though I can’t seem to breathe, I’ve yet to die. Sure my body has started to decay, but I’m still conscious of everything around me. I’ve grown up here in the dirt, surrounded by the undead who crave revenge. They speak to me, or at least they try to. It's hard to talk when you don’t have a tongue. I’m angry too, do you understand why? My life was stolen from me, but I don’t blame my new family; they needed to do what they felt was right, and I understand their pain. For now, I feel it too. I don’t remember my name, father's name, sister's name, mom’s name, or even my family name! It’s gone; I can feel the hole in my memory where this information used to be, making it harder to accept. It was stolen from me, just like my family's life, and it’s all too much to bear. But, what choice do I have? I’m stuck here in this eternal prison, and you wanna know who I blame for this? Do you?! I blame you. If you are reading this note I’ve left, understand that we blame you for the fate that has befallen us all because now you live in the town my family once called home. Maybe it's a terrible stroke of luck that you’ve wound up here; you scream that you had nothing to do with what happened to us! We don’t care. You will understand our pain; you will pay for the greed that disturbed our rest and stole our names. We blame you. So, If late one night, you wake up screaming And can hear us knock, knock, knocking Don’t be afraid, just answer us, friend And give us our revenge

Gen V

y5ttlg

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y5ttlg/gen_v/

I was kidnapped by a group of Gen Z vampires. Storytime….. About a year ago I was lonely and felt ready for a relationship so I downloaded Tinder. After months of no luck, a pretty Goth girl liked me and messaged me with a pickup line “Are you Pepsi Max, because you’re too sweet” I’m not good at cheesy lines like that so I replied with “maybe I am”. She sent an “LMAO” and we started talking. She had similar interests to me which we talked about a lot and after a few days of chatting she asked if I was interested in meeting up. I told her I was and she asked if I wanted to go watch a movie with her the next evening at around 9pm. “Sounds good” I replied and the next evening I arrived at the cinema early and waited for her for about 10 minutes. When she finally arrived in a car with 3 other girls, she asked me if I wanted to get some food with her and her friends first. They seemed nice and I was pretty hungry so I said “sure, why not?” and hopped in the car. None of them really talked on our short journey. The passenger in the front and the girl I was taking out were just on their phones watching Twilight edits on TikTok. When the car finally stopped, it wasn’t at a restaurant but at an old church. “What are we doing here?” I asked The girl I was taking out hit me across the back of the head and I think I passed out because the next thing I remember was being tied to a chair in front of the altar at the old church. Standing in front of me with a needle was the girl I was meant to take out. “What’s going on?” “Shush” “Let me go” “I said shush” “Look, I’m not into whatever this kinky shit it is you’re into” She started laughing “Bestie. This isn’t what you think it is okay, now shush” The girl I was meant to take out approached me and stuck the needle into my arm taking out some blood. “SAOIRSE. LOUISE” Two bats flew in from the front door of the old church and then transformed into the two girls who were in the car with us “Um, what the fuck?” I asked frightened and confused The girl I was with handed the needle to one of the other girls and then sat on my knee “We’re vampires, honey” “Vampires? VAMPIRES? Vampires aren’t real” “Didn’t you see those two transform from bats into themselves?” “Yes” “What can vampires do?” “Turn into bats” “Exactly” “So you’re going to drink my blood then” “What? Don’t be silly. That’s such a 1600’s thing to do. We’re vegetarian” “So why do you have my blood then” The girl who took the needle off the girl I was with reached into her back pocket, took out a vape, filled the tank with my blood and then started puffing on t” “Pass it here Louise” said Salirse She passed her the vape and she took a puff “I was craving this for ages now” The girl I was with reached out her hand and Saoirse gave her the vape and then she took a puff. “So since you have my blood for your…..vaping addictions are you guys going to let me go now?” All 3 laughed “Daddy Satan needs his monthly sacrifice to stay happy. He’s really depressed these days so in order for him to be happy, we sacrifice people to him. Sacrifices are like his anti-depressants” said the girl I was meant to take out. “Ah fuck off” I tried to break free but the ropes were too hard to break free from Louise started approaching me and started speaking in a weird language that I was unable to understand. “What’s this, some Satanic language or some shit?” I asked “What? No? It’s parseltongue, from Harry Potter. Satan loves Harry Potter so we speak parseltongue to him. Daddy Satan loves it when we speak parseltongue” “Whatever” Saoirse then approached me with a knife, held it to my throat and started speaking parseltongue too I closed my eyes, preparing for my throat to be cut open but then I heard a howling noise coming from outside the church “Fuck. It’s those werewolf slags. Another time Daddy Satan, we promise” said the girl I was meant to take out. All three turned into bats and flew away. Then two large werewolves entered the church and ran towards me. Again I closed my eyes, this time preparing for my throat to be bitten open instead of cut open but I felt the ropes loosen and when I opened my eyes, there was two more girls, one standing in front of me, the other to my side “You’re lucky we sniffed them out or you’d be dead” said the one standing in front of me “So you two are werewolves?” I asked “Yep” “And werewolves don’t kill humans” Nope” “Okay then” I stood up from the chair I was tied to, thanked the two wolf girls and then walked home wondering what the fuck just happened.

Ashes and Snow (Pt1)

y5vjew

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y5vjew/ashes_and_snow_pt1/

“Hey, Toli. I’m leaving, I will be doing overtime tonight, I might not come back before tomorrow afternoon.” Said my father. I simply nodded, I was 23 now. Yet, he still treated me like a child. He often stayed up to 18 hours at his job. He never refused a shift for me since I was little. I know he cares for me, but he loves his job even more. A little too much. My mother left him for that exact reason. She moved somewhere in the south. He gives his job more attention than his family. Not that it bothers me that much honestly. He’s a good person, just not a good dad. I also enjoy my quiet time. I love having the apartment for myself. My mother was a little too crazy, so I chose to stay here instead. I also didn’t want to lose my friends. As for me. What can I say? Some would consider me a loser, but on the other hand, most of us out here are like that. Especially the younger people, none of us choose to be born here. In the coldest of lands. The icing on the cake as they would say. The top of the top. Welcome to Norilsk! The most depressing city in the world according to YouTube. In case you don’t know about our lovely town. Which is almost certain. It is one of the northernmost cities in the world. It is basically an industrial city based around the enormous nickel mine. Oh! Did I forget to mention, also the most polluted city in the world, apparently. And I wouldn't even talk about the winter out here. We are in the polar circle, so it gets quite cold and there is no sunlight for around 30 days. I hate this damned place. I want to leave so badly. Me and around three quarters of the people around my age say this, but no one does it for some mystical reason. Apparently, life expectancy is shortened by around 10 to 20 years or something like that. In reality, I have no idea what to do with my life, so why bother look that far? Most of the time, I am bored out of my mind like the rest of the people of my age. Sometimes our internet connection interrupts and we can’t even play online. There aren't many people around my age either. So, we find ways to amuse ourselves with the little we have. Me and my childhood friends from the block spend most of our free time together. I am the only one who lives with a single parent who’s never home. Needless to say, my apartment is hosting the parties pretty often, even without my consent. I don’t know how they do it, but somehow my friends always figure out when my father won’t be here for the night. I think someone is guarding the entrance, but I’ve never figured out who. Or maybe they would just show up randomly hoping they’ll have my house for the evening. This time, I invited my girlfriend only, Iryna. I was feeling unusually lonely. Then, she invited the rest without asking me first, like usual. Most of us either had none important jobs, or didn’t work at all. That meant we had a lot of free time on our hands. There wasn’t much of an education worthwhile around. Other than what the factory offers obviously. I often wonder if I should join the army just to get out of here, but I don’t do it, like the rest of the things I wish I would do. I complain a lot, but don’t do much about it. I take a deep breath and release a long sigh. The phone buzzes. I don’t even need to open it to know the content. They will be here soon enough. The fiends. They are coming, I can feel it. At first, there was the knocking at the door, then the imposing desire to stay on my couch and not say anything. However, it didn’t take long for my resistance to break. My friends were cheerfully knocking at my door and talking loudly in the hallway. “We should celebrate before winter comes.” Said Borin from outside. “We have a whole other month before sun fall.” I reply while standing up. “Then we’ll party the whole month!” He counter replied. They all cheered while I was opening the door. Usually we would go do some stupid stuff outside, but not today. It was already too cold for outdoor activities and I was feeling down for some reason. I just wanted to stay home. My friends on the other hand, were already wild and not a single drop of alcohol was in their vein yet. They all came from within the block and somehow managed to pour snow into my apartment. “Hey, be careful!” I protested. “So! Got something to drink?” My girlfriend asked me, ignoring my warning. “No, he drank it all already.” I said, thinking of my father. “Alright! So, who’s gonna sacrifice himself on a trip to the corner store? There is a huge storm already.” Asked Huan. “Not me, I’m guarding my place, you jerks aren't trustworthy.” I said half joking. They all laughed as if it was nothing, but I actually didn’t trust them. Last time, they broke my table playing some stupid game. I stood on the sofa quietly waiting for them to sort their stuff. Eventually, Huan and Borin decided they would go outside to get the booze. As for my girlfriend she would go on a scavenging mission into her parents locker to find something to drink. I didn’t argue. I was happy, I would have peace for a moment and be with my friend Anna. She was a lot like me. We both were introverts. We didn’t exactly love to party, but did it anyway from peer pressure. I always felt better when she was there. As if I feel less bad for not fitting in like the rest. “Wish us luck comrade” Said Borin while getting his winter coat on again, just a minute after he removed it. And they left, as fast as they came in. They were as sudden as the storm outside. I loved my girlfriend and my friends, but I wish they would leave me alone tonight. I don’t know why. I had a bad feeling. I wish they would go party somewhere else, but I was the only one who had the home for himself. My father was often gone for the night and it always ended up like that. For some odd reason, even if I felt lonely, I always long for solitude. I often looked outside the window by night, wishing to disappear into the dark. “Hey, are you ok?” Anna asked me. Pulling me out of my thoughts. “Yeah sure, why?” I replied nonchalantly. She shrugged and went texting something on her phone. I acted cold, but in reality I felt warm inside that she cared about me. I wanted to tell her that I hated when people would just crash at my house like that. I wanted to tell her how much I hated this place and that, deep inside, I resented my father. I didn’t say anything. She already knew all of it anyway. Out of no wear, an imminent urge to look through my window came to me. I had to see the two adventurers on their way to the corner store. To my surprise, the snowstorm was even worse now. I could barely see outside. In fact, I didn’t see them at all, I couldn't even see down the street. Not only was the snowstorm rapidly intensifying, but it was also getting unusually darker. “Hey, we are a month before the long night? I’m not crazy right?” I asked worriedly. Anna stood up and came next to me. She looked at the time on her phone and then looked at me with a worried look. “It’s weird.” She said silently. We didn’t say anything until the two others came back around 20 minutes later. The corner store was literally in front of the street. Why did it take them so long? The door opened violently and the two guys rushed inside shaking and throwing even more snow all over my place. “Watch out! It’s going to get wet” I said angrily. “What the hell? Did you see that?” Said excited Huan, ignoring me again. “See what?” I asked, not sharing their excitement. “Well! We survived the earliest snowstorm!” They Exclaimed together. I hated them so much… “We got 'em! No store is off limits. Vodka no limit!” Yelled Borin while raising the bottle in the air. I hated them so, so, much… The party began right away. It took them exactly five minutes to undress and start drinking. My girlfriend came inside right after. No one noticed the pond they just left at my doorstep, neither did they listen to me. With a deep sight. I almost told myself I hated her too. I think I need a drink, I thought. And so. I drank with them… When you are sad you drink, when you are happy you drink. Your birthday? You drink! Your pet dies, you drink. It’s unhealthy, you’re about to die, you still drink. That’s what my stupid friends told me. Today, I was sad for some unknown reason and strangely worried, so that is a double reason to drink. Screw me. I’m as bad as them. **\*** **\*** **\*** We played some old American pop and rap music, there was always that time when Huan had to show off his English skills by singing over some Eminem songs. He was actually good, he could do something with this one day. Only, no one would ever listen to him outside of this place. I sighted again, this time in desperation. Every time I think of my birthplace, I wish I could leave it so badly. Go somewhere like Europe or Canada. One day I thought, one day. I turned my head toward the window daydreaming. The curtains were closed. I stood up from the sofa and walked toward the window. I opened the curtains. As expected, there was a layer of ice and snow over the glass, blocking the view. There wasn’t much to see anyway. However, there was something odd. It was even darker than last time I checked. We were only at the beginning of November. There remained at least three more weeks before the long night. I thought I would open the window to see outside, but it was stuck frozen. How cold was it? I forced the frame and it finally moved after a loud crack. A cold breeze abruptly interrupted the party with a loud howl and snow infiltrated my home once again. Anna and Iryna shriek almost simultaneously. “Close that window right away!” My girlfriend ordered me. But, I didn’t. Something was off. The two other guys came next to me and looked as stupefied as me. “Isn’t it weird? The weather. I’ve never seen something like that.” Borin said after a couple of minutes of baffled gaze. It was indeed weird, it was as if the snow was gray, as if it was ashes and not snow. No one has ever seen something like that. Obviously, we lived in the most polluted place on earth, but that was no reason for the snow to be gray. Not only did it cover everything in a dark shade, but it also absorbed all light. It was as if the light was getting eaten by the snow. As if darkness were swallowing everything. It wasn’t the same feeling as when the long night came. No. If you would take a flashlight and shine into the snow, there would be no reflection. No one has ever seen anything like that. We were all terrified. No one said anything for a long moment. We had no clue what was going on. Usually, I would have kicked them out of my house right after the party, but not today. I was scared and I didn’t want to be alone. For once, I wanted them to stay with me. I think they thought the same because no one wanted to move from here. We felt safe as long as we were together. “Hey, my father is in the mine, yours too right?” Anna asked me. “My father is working overtime, what about yours?” I said. “He is too”. She confirmed. We all looked at each other even more worried. “Let’s call them.” I said. I went to pick up my cell phone and called my father. After five rings, I hung up and texted him instead. The others did the same thing. “My messages are getting sent, but my parents don’t receive them.” Anna said quietly. For the next few hours we stayed in my apartment, discussing all the various possibilities. “Maybe they are burning something different in the factory?” or “Maybe a volcano erupted somewhere?”. There was no way to know. What we knew for sure is that it was way darker for that time of the year, the snow was gray and the storm wasn’t settling anytime soon. In addition, there was no public announcement anywhere. Even the internet connection was struggling. The party broke pretty fast and inevitably my friends returned home except for Iryna. We stayed home together. We’ve spent an anxious night, waiting for something to happen. We called multiple times and looked online unsuccessfully. The next day was exactly the same. We woke up as if he hadn't slept in the first place. The workers still weren’t home. We tried to call our parents again. However, this time, there was no signal at all. “What the hell?” I said while a long shiver ran across my back. “I don’t think they will come back in a weather like this. They have dormitories near the factory for emergency situations. They will probably wait for the storm to calm down. Don’t worry. Let’s instead enjoy our time alone.” Iryna said comfortingly. I nodded in agreement, yet unable to believe I would enjoy my time. Since there wasn’t much to do, I preferred waiting with her. We sat on the couch with a blanket over us and cuddled. The air was getting oddly cold. And just like that. Without warning or reason, the longest night of my life began… \* \* \* A week later. “Toli! Open the door!” A familiar voice called me from outside my apartment. I stumbled on my way there and opened it halfway. It was Viktor, the old neighbor from above. “Listen, I know your father is not here. If you need something you can always come.” The old man said gently. “It’s in times like these we have to work together, alright?” He added. I thanked him and began closing the door, but he suddenly put his hand on the cold wood, preventing me from closing it and stared at me with intense eyes. “Listen, I’ve heard some strange stories. Something is not normal, we all know it. We can’t even get outside the building, the snow already covers the entrance and there is still no communications, you know, we don’t exactly need rescuing for now, but, what if things stay like that for a month or more? What are we going to eat?” He finished with a quiet voice. “It won’t last that long, it never happened. It won’t” I replied in denial. “How would you know?” He challenged me. “I don’t know. What is it that you want, really, tell me?” I was getting angry. “When the time comes, we should work together. Understand?” He said whispering and with a grim look on his face. I began to understand what he meant and I didn’t like it at all. I hated thinking about it, but the picture was already getting painted in my head. “Sure, now leave me alone.” I said coldly and I closed the door. I was shaking, the air in the corridor was colder than usual, but that was not why. I was getting utterly terrified now. What if something happens to my father? What if something went wrong in the factory? My heart was racing at these thoughts. I turned around to look at Iryna. We’ve spent the whole week together, we couldn't stand to be next to each other anymore, but it was still better than being alone. I sat next to her on the couch and gently caressed her. There was nothing to say, and so we quietly fell asleep on the couch again. Chaos outside our apartment woke us up in the middle of the night… or day. It didn’t make any difference now. It was dark at any time. People were shouting and yelling in the staircase. “What now?” I spat between my teeth. I removed the heavy blanket from over us and I immediately felt my skin freezing. “My god!” Iryna said with a pitched voice. “What the hell?” She added. Ignoring the cold, I paid attention to the people talking outside and I could hear someone say something about the central heat system being broken. “The pipes! They’re frozen, and the electrical system is out of reach.” Someone yelled from downstairs. “Can’t we use the gasoline generator?” A voice from upstairs replied with another yell. “I tried it, I think it’s broken. Come and help me!” The conversation continued like that for a moment. Eventually, I took my courage at hand and went to open the door. It was even colder than last time. I looked up and down. A lot of my neighbors were chatting through half open doors. “The heating. It stopped.” Said crying the old lady next door. “Can’t we fix it?” Asked loudly the person on the floor above, without venturing into the staircase. “Alright, alright, I’ll come down. Let me dress up a little”. He yelled once more. Now, I was definitely panicking. What are we going to do? I put all my hopes into my fellow block mates, hoping they would arrange the system. But, what my upstairs neighbor told me the other day came back to mind. What if things didn’t improve? The storm was still raging and it was getting colder by the day. “We can’t even open the main door”. Yelled someone from below. If this keeps up, we might eventually run out of food. There was a food storage in the basement. I went there yesterday and it was already completely distributed among the dwellers. I already began rationing, just in case. Iryna and her family too did it. At least, there’s an advantage of not having parents around. I smiled sadly. More food for me. I wanted to help the situation somehow, but I was utterly useless, I had no particular skill and I didn’t even have tools at home. Me and Iryna simply waited for something to happen. The wait was getting unbearable. We had literally nothing to do, but wait. We were bored out of our minds above all. “I think I’ll go see what’s going on.” I said to Iryna. “You stay here, I’ll go check on the others.” I dressed with my winter coat, hat and gloves and ventured into the staircase. I knocked around, asking for news. Most people were in a similar situation. No one dared to go outside, but sooner or later we would need to resupply. Right then, I realized something. I had a whole apartment to myself. My father wasn’t really taking care of me that much, but at least he always did his groceries. I had a whole appartement of food for a single person. The others had whole families to feed. If someone would be asked to share, it would certainly be me. “Damn that bastard was right.” I whispered, thinking of the neighbor upstairs. I won’t go see him. Hoping he might forget about me. Which I doubt. I decided I wanted to see Huan next. He lived on the floor above mine. On my way there I met the crazy Ivan. He was carrying something strange. The bastard was always up to something. He was all geared up as if he intended to conquer Siberia all by itself. He was carrying a large tube with a black cable wrapped around it. “What’s that?” I asked curious. “I’m building something” He replied with his usual angry face. “What are you building?” I continued. “Something useful, you’ll thank me later”. “Can’t you just say it already?” I was getting annoyed. “I’m communicating with the block in front of us. With light. We had to learn morse code in the navy. Unlike you, I know useful skills.” He grimaced at me. “Communicating? And you didn’t tell anyone about that?” I felt the blood heat my face. Anger was comforting in this situation. It warmed me. “Boy, things are dire. Worse than you might think.” He said quietly while approaching his face. “If you really wanna know what’s going on. Come with me”. I nodded and he backed on his tracks, getting back to his home. My curiosity won over my anger and I followed him inside his apartment. I’ve always wondered what the inside of the lonely, angry and crazy Ivan living space was. And, it was exactly what I expected. It was a total mess. However, it was warmer here. He had all sorts of strange devices and constructions half finished around. He had makeshift isolation on his windows. It looked like he cut a mattress and stuck it against the windows. It was a brilliant idea actually. As I got inside, he closed the door and I realized he had tapped blankets on the door. I noticed he had a whole crate of candles. Where and when did he even get all that? “Come here.” He spoke even more quietly, as if we were being listened to, even inside of his home. “Listen boy, I don’t care what you think or do, this is bigger than all of us. There is something wrong going on outside. I’ve been speaking with the block in front, and they saw something outside in the dark. Their heating stopped working yesterday just like us. Is it a coincidence you think?” He paused for a long moment. I didn’t believe him. I looked at his apparatus on the window, he had made a hole and strapped a spotlight of some sort. I assumed that’s how he was talking with the people in front. “I don’t think that’s a coincidence, someone wants us dead”. He continued with a grim tone. “We need to establish a direct line of communication with the other blocks. This cable, let’s go outside before we can’t and my friend there could make up a functioning radio”. “Wait a second, you of all people don’t you have a working radio already? Doesn’t walkie talkies work? It’s right next door. I should work right?” He grimaced with an even uglier face. He put his thumb between his teeth and walked in circles for a moment. “This isn’t snow. It blocks communications and radio waves, and I won’t even talk about how it absorbs light”. He spat at me. He was nervously walking in circles, talking to himself. I had nothing else to add, so I waited. It was simply unreal. “They finally made it, I knew it would happen”. He suddenly spoke loudly. “They did what?” I asked. “The third world war, they unleashed some sort of new weapon, or maybe it’s just nuclear fallout. The bastards, no one cares about us, we are just a forgotten city in the grand scheme of things”. He was always saying crazy stuff like that. Usually, no one ever listened to him. But this time, for once maybe, he might be right. I looked around, and I noticed he had weapons laying around his apartment. He also had a handgun hanging around his waist. I didn’t like him. Even less than before, there was a scary and negative energy coming out of him. I slowly walked outside his apartment and left him to his crazy fantasies. Without saying a word, I left and he ran past me with his apparatus and cables wrapped around. “We can’t get out! The main entrance is blocked! There’s so much snow, what the hell?” The person downstairs yelled. For some reason, I felt defeated, I abandoned everything and went back to my appartement. Not even saying hi to my friend on the way there. \* \* \* Two days later. The storm finally stopped. Despite that, it was still dark as if the sun had simply disappeared out of existence. The heating was still off and we were still disconnected from the outside world. It was an odd situation. Everyone was scared, but things were so calm and so boring. It was only natural for people to start spreading strange rumors. Someone from the first floor was talking about hearing voices and seeing something outside his window. Walking slowly, as if it was trying to get in, yet keeping enough distance to be hidden in the shadows. Ivan managed to reach the other block and connect his communication device after all, so maybe someone was actually trying to get in. Also, almost everyone barricaded their windows from the cold, it was hard to even look outside. Who knows what’s going on? “Since it stopped snowing, we might try to dig a way out from the main entrance” Someone said. A couple of people reluctantly volunteered, but no one actually wanted to do it. I, myself, didn't want to go outside. The snow was repulsing, just by its unusual color. It was just snow in the end, but we still didn’t want to touch it. Something was terribly wrong and we all knew it. No one wanted to take the risk. Who and why would someone wanna go outside? If the other blocks don’t have heating too then why even bother? As for the food, the market was a couple of streets from here, I wouldn't dare to go outside by myself. I’m not that desperate for now. Though, if we wait for too long, the people living closer might loot it before us. But wait, what am I even talking about? It was not even the long night yet. It’s just a storm, nothing more. I tried to reassure myself. We can’t just go steal food? Days later, the storm began raging anew. The longest night of the year officially began. It was even colder, no one managed to turn on the heating since it broke. The communication cable Ivan put outside was severed. Rumors about something lurking outside spread even more. Even me and Iryna thought we saw something the other day. There seemed to be something roaming outside, but the view wasn’t clear enough. Digging a hole at the main entrance was pointless. We tried it and the snow filled the hole again in no time. So we were shut from the outside world. There shouldn’t be anyone or anything outside. There were no animals around here either. “What now”? My girlfriend asked me out of the blue. “What do you mean?” I frowned at her. “Aren't we going to do something?” She asked me for the 100th time. “And what are we supposed to do? Light a campfire in the middle of the appartement, go steal food from outside? Do YOU wanna do it?” I exploded angrily. She was getting desperate and so was I too. I wanted to kick her out so badly, but everytime she went to her parents I began freaking out. The loneliness and the silence was maddening. I began hearing odd noises and seeing shadows moving in the dark. I saw a bright red light the other day, right after she left. I couldn't see what it was, but it came from the other block’s direction. No one else saw it. It’s hard to know if I imagined it or not. The tension and the wait, I hated it so much, I was going out of my mind. I had to do something, go somewhere, be useful, anything! And so, I made up my mind. The constant pressure was getting more unbearable than my fear of the unknown. I was feeling trapped, crushed, between these four walls. “Alright, you know what? Let’s go outside, let’s make a trip to the market!” I said loudly. Iryna's face turned from surprise to anger. Infuriated she stood up yelling at me about how much I’ve lost my mind and all. The truth is, that deep inside, I’ve always wanted to do something worthwhile, even before this. I’ve always felt lost and useless. It’s maybe my time to make up for it. I didn’t listen to her, got dressed up and went to talk to the people around the block. The boys agreed right away, I think they must have been feeling the same thing as me. A feeling of urgency, as if something had to be done. Vicktor and the crazy Ivan both agreed to join. The others looked at us like deers in front of truck lights. As for the girls, Anna and Iryna, they would wait for us at the entrance. We over equipped ourselves, as if we were about to go climb a mountain, we might look ridiculous, going two streets from here. Nonetheless, the situation was unexpectedly weird. Speaking of which, we chose to jump through a window from the second floor instead of digging a hole through the iced off entrance. It is easier that way. Otherwise, we would need something heavy, like a pickaxe and we didn’t have the energy or patience to do it. “Are you ready?” I said to my courageous friend Borin He nodded and forced the window open. Right away an intensely cold wind hit us right in the face. He bent over the window and examined the surroundings and looked at me with terrified eyes. “Wish me luck”. He said and proceeded to get outside. He didn’t rush to climb down the window. He dropped down very slowly and carefully. It was oddly dark outside, there was literally no light. We couldn't even see the block right in front of us. Me and Huan tied a rope around the staircase and threw it at him. He tried to see if he could climb up again, with our help he managed awkwardly but safely. We judged it would be better for old folks to remain in the room with the girls and lift us back inside if something happens. I would have prefered it to be a five men expedition instead of three, but I also didn’t feel confident enough that I would be able to climb back up, let alone count on the girls to lift us rapidly. Borin took the lead, jumped back down more confidently this time and lit up his flashlight. “We should be fine!” He shouted at us from down there. I took a deep breath and followed him through the window. There we are, the three of us, already struggling against the elements. The first thing I noticed was how hard it was to breathe, to see and hear. The snow under our feet was soft at first, but right under there was a thick layer of ice already. I was scared at the thought that the whole floor was a frozen sheet of ice. Sure the city is already over a layer of permafrost land, but that was a whole other level. I looked behind me. I couldn't see the roof of our building and it felt like vertigo. As if it was infinitely taller. My friends were talking right next to me and I could barely hear them. It made me feel as if we were alone in the universe. They were saying something about following the building since we can’t see the roads of the sights. We might get lost right away. Even if I knew the city like the back of my hand, I still preferred to be cautious. “We are counting on you!” Borin yelled to the girls and our neighbors. We waved a farewell and began our walk. In that temperature, it would be better not to stay too long, I was already feeling numb on my face. We went along the building for a couple of minutes, but something strange happened. The storm calmed down a little. In exchange the air got increasingly colder. The change was so sudden that the three of us stopped in terror. I was feeling overwhelmed with a strange feeling of anxiety. I wanted to run away back inside and my two friends seemed to share the feeling. The storm dissipated almost instantly. There were few snowflakes falling slowly now. I raised my head and looked at the sky. I couldn't see the stars. I thought it would have been the ideal time to look at the sky, since there was no light pollution. Instead, dark omnipresent clouds were suffocating us. I turned my head left and right, we could distinguish a bit more clearly our surroundings now. The city was usually lively, even during the night. At least the street lamps would have been working. Now one quarter is under the snow. Even cars were almost completely buried. I stopped for a moment and stared at the building in front of ours. I shivered, I was feeling watched. However we couldn't see inside. They too have barricaded their windows. The whole first floor was completely dark. As for the second one there was light coming from some of the windows. I felt a strange unease, as if something was looking at me. I searched but I couldn't see anyone on the windows. I shivered even harder. “There is something!” Suddenly yelled Huan in terror with his high pitched voice. I turned back immediately, but there was nothing. I couldn't see nor hear anything. “What’s there?” Borin replied in an agitated voice. “I don’t know! I saw something moving. I swear!” He reaffirmed and pointed somewhere in the dark. I looked at the pointed direction and around rapidly. There was nothing but I was feeling increasingly paranoid. I was also looking at the barricaded windows next to us. I hoped to see a familiar face, but there was nothing to see but snow. “Let’s go home, forget about this, I wanna go home!” I almost cried. I ignored what my friends said and began walking back home as rapidly as I could. I looked in front of my feet, trying to keep my balance on the ice. “WAIT!” My friend yelled. I stopped at the sound of his voice and raised my eyes… My heart stopped. There was something… It was there a second ago, not anymore. “There really is something!” I yelled in sheer terror and stepped back. I collided into my friend that was right behind me. “Did you see that?!” I struggled to ask. “See what?” They asked. Panicked and in confusion the three of us ran straight to the nearest window by reflex. I kept looking while searching with my shaking flashlight. I pointed at the direction I thought I saw something. It was useless, the light died off on the darkened snow. I then pointed at the window that was almost half buried under the snow. “Break it!” I yelled. “But, there’s people inside.” Borin protested. “Break it, do it!” I ordered him to. He kicked it with his boot, but it didn’t break. He kicked it a couple more times unsuccessfully. Meanwhile, me and Huan looked in the direction we saw the thing. I was desperately hoping to see something and not see it at once. “It’s not breaking!” Borin was out of breath. “We’re not that far, it's just right there, let’s light a flare! They might see and come for us.” Huan proposed. Without thinking, I took my bag out and quickly grabbed the red emergency flare and rushed to ignite it. It took a couple of panicked tries, ultimately the flame ignited. Even in this situation, the fire prevailed. It lit the surroundings with an alarming red light. And it was right then and there that we saw the thing. The three of us saw it clearly, yet it was indescribable. It had a misshapen form. Almost unreal while being somehow familiar. After a couple of seconds that felt like eternity. The thing backed off slowly into the dark, disappearing. Frozen in fear, the three of us remained immobile staring at the thing. It was right at the edge between the light and darkness. It was barely visible now. After only a couple of seconds a powerful gust of wind made me loose footing. The storm was already raging anew. It came back as suddenly as it disappeared. It was already impossible to see around us. The winds were so powerful that the snow was cutting our skin on our face. “We have to get back immediately!” Borin yelled with a muffled voice. “We barely walked any distance, the girls are right there!” He pointed somewhere up. We ran the fastest we could. I waved the flare in the air signaling that we were in an emergency. The girls and the elders opened the window and threw down the rope. The three of us began fighting for the rope. In sheer terror and panic someone hit me in the face and I felt on the ground. I tried to get up as quickly as I could, but I slipped and fell on my back. I looked at the direction of the thing and it was still there. Right next to me, in the edge between the storm vail and my vision. It was looking at me calmly. I turned toward the rope. Borin was already halfway there and Huan was right behind him. Iryna screamed so loudly that I heard it clearly even from down here. I didn’t waste a second and jumped at the rope. “PULL! PULL!” We yelled in unison and suddenly, I felt my feet lift from the ground. The combined force of our neighbors managed to pull us back up. I held the rope so tightly that my hands hurt. I was repeating “Faster! Faster!” until I was back to safety. With a final pull, I fell head down first into the apartment. “Close the window.” One of us ordered. Everyone but me gathered at the window, trying to see the thing outside, but none managed. Whatever was out there, had already left. I remained on the floor rejoicing the safety inside. I saw it, it was directly in my line of sight. I didn’t need to confirm it. On the contrary, I wish I would doubt and eventually dismiss it. But, that would not be possible. “Anyone seen anything?” Someone asked, confused. “I saw something, I don’t know what it was” Iryna said terrified. “It looked… Like, I don’t know. A polar bear maybe?” Someone laughed. “There’s no polar bears here”. “No no, it wasn’t like a polar bear, more like a…” Iryna tried to describe it, but couldn't. “If it’s a polar bear, we can kill it and eat it, no?” Someone else proposed. “No! I saw it, it was staring at us from afar, but when I ignited the flare I managed to get a good glimpse of it.” I said still on the floor. “Right when I looked at it it backed off a little and hid in the snow. It was like. An ape maybe? I don’t know how to describe it, it was disgusting. It was terrifying! A monster! I tell you!” I almost yelled while standing up painfully. I was looking at the people’s faces, they ranged from confusion to terror and disbelief, but all were worried. Anna crouched near me and helped me to remove my coat and said quietly to me. “I believe you. I know you wouldn't make something like that.” “You won’t ever go outside again, you understand me!” Iryna scolded me in front of everyone.

Ding dong ditch was my favorite game to play as a child. My addiction to it has led me down a dangerous path.

y5eo5e

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y5eo5e/ding_dong_ditch_was_my_favorite_game_to_play_as_a/

When I was fourteen years old, my best friend Marcus and I loved to play ding dong ditch. We would often go to a nightclub after it had shut its doors and the staff was preparing to clean up and clock out. We hid in the nearby bushes and threw rocks at the front entrance. A bouncer who looked as though his other job was lifting weights walked out. He must have thought it was the wind or a random straggler who found their way down the road, so he went back inside. We threw stones a second time. Then a third. By the fourth, the bouncer was so angry he screamed at the entire vicinity when he stepped out. \* We graduated to suburban homes. This was in the early millennium before everyone had a ring camera. Home security was not as cheap as it is now. At first, we relied on word-of-mouth to tell us the addresses of the teachers we disliked. We tormented them in the dead of night by ringing the doorbell and running away before they could answer. We executed our prank in wealthier neighborhoods. We hiked along trails to get past the men who guarded the gates of the affluent suburbs. We both came from poor households. Something about perturbing the rich made us happy. That is until the police showed up at my house. Two of them flashed their badges through the peephole. When my father answered, the officer told him they reviewed clear camera footage of my face. It showed me ringing the doorbell of an estate owned by a doctor. “The intent likely wasn't property damage or a violent misdemeanor,” the cop said. “Your son can still face charges of harassment and trespassing.” Although they did not take me into custody, I was still at the other end of a stern lecture. It calmed me down and prevented me from engaging in my favorite hobby. At least for a few months. Marcus and I were at it again within a matter of no time. We decided to go for more middle-class properties. Individuals within our economic class were less likely to have surveillance, after all. \* There was a cabin that sat at the end of a road only two blocks from the lake. It was distinctive because it was such a small piece of real estate, no bigger than a tool shed. Yet the patch of land it sat on was large. There was also no gate surrounding it. I always wondered why they did not build more on its soil. “Elise lives there,” Marcus said as we strolled by it one evening. “Who?” I asked. I threw a rock in the air to make the bats chase after it. “Elise, the Grandma from hell. The old lady that everyone thinks is a witch. She dresses like she’s on her way to one of those *Lord Of The Rings* movies.” “Let’s ring her doorbell,” I said. “Are you sure?” Marcus asked. “You’re not going to let an elderly person scare you, right?” “No, it’s not that. There are stories of how she used to curse people she didn’t like. Even kids.” “She doesn’t even have a camera," I said. "Tell you what, to make ourselves extra safe, let’s pull our shirts over our heads far enough so she can’t see us. We’ll ring and sprint like we always do.” After I exerted enough peer pressure, Marcus agreed to it. We folded the back end of our t-shirts over the top of our heads. We followed a dirt pathway. The doorbell had a ring of rust. The front door had a knocker that was in the shape of a naked female demon. She had serrated teeth. Her hips also had wings that protruded behind her. Their tips were sharp and extended. I found the architecture strange. Still, I did not think anything of it beyond how it was an eccentric choice for the owner. Marcus and I looked at each other as a nonverbal cue to prepare one another to run. I pressed the doorbell. Two things happened. I saw blood drip from my fingertip. The doorbell contained something sharp which cut my skin open. A jolt of pain coursed through me. I put pressure on the wound with my palm to try and stop the spurting. Then we heard the noise of an angry dog barking. We turned our heads to where the noise was coming from, and we saw a black hound jogging towards us. We ran as fast as we could. We moved past other old and vacant houses. Adrenaline and fear coursed through us. We moved through the parking lot of a cheap trucker motel. Dizziness overcame me. The last thing I remember was falling between the soda machine and the pool. The side of my face scraped against the concrete. \* When I came to I was in my bedroom. I faced the ceiling on my mattress. Marcus hovered over me. “Thank God you’re awake,” he said. “What happened?” I asked. “I brought you home, man. I didn’t know what else to do. Your Mom’s nursing skills came in handy because she managed to stop the blood. Your Dad’s angry. I lied and told them we were skateboarding and you had an accident.” \* For the next few days, mental exhaustion became overwhelming. All I could do was sleep. One night I awoke and was hungry. I opened my bedroom door, crept down the hallway, and went downstairs to the kitchen. As I was preparing a cold-cut sandwich, I heard the doorbell ring. I chewed and inched towards the door. I stared through the peephole. No one was there. I went back into the kitchen and grabbed a glass of water. I was still delirious and tired, so I did not think much of what transpired. The doorbell rang again. I went towards the door again and this time opened it. I wish I had not. A bloodied chicken with its feathers plucked and head removed was there. I took in the scene and tried to make sense of it. Who would do this in the middle of the night? I closed the door and locked it. That was when the doorbell rang again. And again. And again. I went into the kitchen and retrieved a butcher's knife. I waited for the doorbell to ring once more, and I opened the door when the resonance of the noise was still in the air. I looked out at the front lawn and the shrubbery there. An old lady's face stared at me from behind the bush. It had deep line marks all over her face and a permanent grin. Her skull turned into a freakish smile. One of the things that struck me as strange about her mug was how small it was and how it seemed to float. She was either very short behind the vegetation or I was hallucinating and she was a hovering head. The starlight made her eyes twinkle with the same sort of shimmering quality as the grassy dew. She drifted towards me. I shut the door, ran upstairs, and peeked out through my blinds to stare at the lawn below. She was gone. \* A similar series of events transpired for the next month. Every night some preternatural or supernatural force would harass me. I thought I was going crazy. I even lied about having suffered a concussion to get a head scan. This made my parents happy but muddied the waters of my sense of sanity. I told Marcus about everything one day when we were hanging out at our local arcade. “You might be going crazy,” he said as he killed a dozen zombies in a row with perfect headshots. “The woman cursed me,” I said. He dropped the plastic weapon and stared at me with his jaw hung slack. “I’m going to beg her to lift it,” I said. “I will apologize for the wrong I did. I need you to come with me. In case she tries to hurt me.” “So you’re going to admit to her we ding dong ditched? She could call the cops and use it against us." “If you come with me," I said, "I’ll buy you lunch for a week.” That convinced him more than a lecture on loyalty ever could. \* The house seemed even more decrepit and covered in grime than it had the last time we were there. The street was so dark it was as though the neighborhood had evacuated. I also noticed how there was music blasting from the inside of the domicile. It sounded like a slowed-down classical orchestra. I walked up to the door and knocked. No one answered but I persisted. “Let’s go,” Marcus said as he shivered. “It’s getting cold.” I motioned for him to follow me as I circled the small building. Our feet crunched the autumnal leaves and their crisp scent wafted over us. We got to a window with a carmine curtain, its pane cracked. I reached in, opened the pane, and pulled the curtain to the side. Elise lay on the ground. Around her was a red symbol. A bucket of what looked like blood sat beside her as well. I tried to call myself down and tell myself it was nothing more than paint. The four corners of the room had mutilated chickens. “What the hell is that?” Marcus asked as he pointed at the ceiling. Another glyph was there, and it matched the design on the ground. When I peered back at the floor, Elise was gone. Then she appeared in front of me like an apparition. Her mouth was open and she shrieked. I looked behind me and saw Marcus run down the street. “I wanted to say I’m sorry,” I said as I backed away. “What I did was disrespectful and wrong. If you could take away whatever hex you put on me, I’ll be grateful. I’m good at maintenance work I can fix things. I’ll come by and do chores every once in a while if you want.” She opened up her palm and I swore I saw a tattoo on the inside of it, a strange symbol with a likeness unfamiliar to me. A burst of white light flashed between us and I passed out. \* When I came to, I was in my room. I looked at my nightstand and the alarm clock and saw I had slept well past morning. I could not figure out how I lost the day, I had no memory of getting back home or going to bed. I also had a splitting headache. I went downstairs to eat breakfast and try to find Tylenol. Dad sat at the table eating cereal. He looked up at me. “Is everything okay? You haven’t been drinking have you?” “No,” I said as I massaged my forehead. “I didn’t get enough sleep. I’ll be fine though.” “Good,” he said. “We have new neighbors and I want you to be nice to them, not grumpy because you’re sleep-deprived. They’re out there right now. Go out and introduce yourself after you’ve had a cup of coffee.” I opened the blinds and saw a man and a woman walking down the ramp of a U-Haul. The woman stared straight at me. Her face contorted in morphed into that of Elise. It changed back in a millisecond. \* It has been eighteen years since that experience. The visions lasted for another year before they stopped. The haunting terrors ceased when she died. Elise passed away from a heart attack. The house ended up demolished to make space for a hotel. They built a hot tub in the exact space it used to be. I will never walk by that area again.

The Trail Surgeon

y58mua

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y58mua/the_trail_surgeon/

It all happened so quickly. It was a blur, really. One second I was hiking, soaking in the beautiful scenery, the next I was laying in a motionless heap on the dirt trail, screaming in agony. A pothole embedded deep in the trail. I caught my foot at an odd angle, tried to correct myself, and managed to snap my leg in half. After I wiped away my tears, I could tell that the break was messy. To my absolute horror, I saw shards of white laying on the ground. Bone. My bone. Then came the blood. Not a lot, but enough to soak through my pant leg. The stickiness was warm and a deep, rich red. Almost like wine. My shattered leg was bent numerous degrees in the wrong direction. Once the adrenaline kicked in, I managed to start crawling. Slowly at first, and then slower still as dirt nestled its way into my leg, infecting it. Ants started nibbling at the pools I was leaving in my wake, whether it was blood or urine I couldn’t be sure. As the afternoon wore on, I assumed I would see other hikers and seek help. Even though this hiking trail was remote, I didn’t think I’d be alone for this long. I started to worry as the sun's rays started to get longer. I managed to perch myself up against a tree and sleep the first night. I was thrust awake by a voice. I jumped up, startled. I screamed out as pain rippled up my leg and into my ribs. “My oh my feller, that’s quite nasty, isn’t it?” An old man. His grey beard hugged his cheeks. He wore a black suit and a top hat. His soft, high pitched voice and overall demeanor reminded me of a man who was not of this era. Lost in the wrong universe perhaps. A wanderer. “God it hurts so bad.” I managed to squeak out. “I can sympathize. I used to be a surgeon during the war, mind if I take a look?” He asked, placing a leather travel bag on the ground next to me. I nodded my head as I bit my lip. The man retrieved a pair of scissors and sliced through my crusted over pant leg. He peeled the two stiff flaps apart. Immediately his hand flew to his mouth. He started to dry heave, but he didn’t turn his head away. My leg had maggots crawling in the bloody, bone exposed, purple-tinted flesh. The old man vomited at the sight of this, a horrendous shade of green sludge exited his orifice and splashed down right into my broken leg. I wailed in revulsion and misery, the fresh stomach acid burning my exposed pain receptors. “Fuck! Jesus fucking Christ!” I shouted. “Sorry, sir. I mean no ill intent. I’m gonna have to do one of two things for you.” He wiped his chin with his sleeve. “What?” I was hyperventilating. “Well, your leg is gangrenous. How long you’ve been out here?” He looked up towards the sun. “I don’t know. A day or two?” The old man shook his head in disappointment. “I can amputate, which I recommend, or I can set it. Either way, your legs more than likely gonna have to face the axe I reckon. Either here or elsewhere.” His face was grim, he shook his head again, this time in pity. “Hell of a thing, partner.” He finished. “Can you set it?” I asked wearily. “Well, it’ll hurt like a bastard, that’s for sure mister. I’m gonna have to tie your arms and torso to that there tree so you stay still.” I shuddered, my chest constricted in anticipation. “And amputation?” I dredged up the courage to ask. “The same. But worse.” That was all I needed to hear. “Set it then.” I leaned back against the tree as he used his belt to tie my hands around the trunk, behind my back. He fetched some rope from his bag and tied a knot I didn’t recognize around my chest. The knot made me completely immobile from the neck down. Then, as if the stuff of nightmares, the old man pulled out a hammer and two planks of wood. My stomach lurched at the sight. “Whu… what are you doing?” My eyes started to water in fear. The man slid the wood planks along either side of my leg. Even that caused me to wince. My mangled mess of a leg was a cacophony of color. It was still bent in the complete wrong direction. “For the pain.” He pushed a bottle of whiskey to my lips. “I’m not a drinker.” I protested. “You have to be or you’ll start going insane.” He tipped the bottle forwards and forced the hard liquor down my throat. After a few long pulls that burned like the pits of hell, he pulled it back. He raised the hammer to the side. “There’s gonna be intense pressure.” His eyebrows furrowed. “You’re gonna feel it penetrate your muscle and hit against your bone. Don’t feel embarrassed if you relieve yourself, everyone does.” He grimaced, then steadied himself. “Wait, stop!” I shouted. Second thoughts intruded into my brain. There had to be another way! My pleas came too late as the hammer swung downwards in one fluid swoop. I heard the bone crack first. Then… “AHHHHHHHH! OH. MY. GOD! AHHHHHHH!” Inhuman. Demonic. Ape-like. “FUCK NO!” I couldn’t breathe. “NO! NOT AGAIN!” Another swing. I didn’t scream this time. The pain was so intense I wheezed, my mouth unable to do anything but inhale and exhale. I shook violently against the tree stump, leaves falling down in response to my convulsions. My bladder released. My bowels released. My eyes rolled. I didn’t pass out, but I wanted to. I’d have rather died than felt pain like that. The old man winced again. “Well, it’s not ideal, but I’m gonna need to cauterize the wound. Kill all those critters.” He mumbled to himself as he pulled out a torch. “Nuh-uh.” I mumbled incoherently. I couldn’t shake my head. I remember my vision going fuzzy. I couldn’t move. Blackness began invading my eyesight as I lost consciousness. I don’t know how long I was out. I remember jolting back to lucidity. I studied my surroundings. The old man, the trail surgeon. Seated next to me. “You know, I don’t care for you all that much.” He sighed. I groaned painfully. “So I’ve decided to leave you all tied up. Watch you die. The gangrene is spreading up the leg. Ya don’t have too long, partner.” He laughed. I screamed. No words. Just sounds. He and I sat for hours. “Fuck you!” I shouted. He snickered. “Should’ve taken my advice. Should’ve amputated, but I suppose you knew better.” He shook his head arrogantly. “I was a surgeon on the battlefield, you know.” “Piss off.” I hissed. “I don’t have a saw with me. Couldn’t amputate your leg anyway. But I could…” He trailed off as he shifted towards me. He bent down towards my battered leg. *He bit into it.* *Like a zombie.* I screamed. As loud as before. Birds flew upwards. I kicked and fought back, but my tied limbs were of no use. I wretched and bucked ferociously. Suddenly, a sound. From up the trail. I screamed louder now. The old man looked up, his mouth covered in flesh. He picked up his bag, instruments spilling out, and hoofed it into the woods. A couple, a man and a woman, approached me. When they saw my gruesome condition, they both vomited onto the ground simultaneously. I started sobbing. Once they composed themselves, they approached me, horrified. “Oh my god!” The woman shrieked. “What happened?!” The man asked, dumbfounded. “I broke my leg a few days ago…” I was panting, sweat soaked my clothing. “This crazy… old man tied me up to this tree and tried to eat me!” The couple looked at each other, pondering their next move. Surely I sounded, and probably looked, insane. “Just now?” The woman asked. “Yeah, he went that way.” I pointed out into the woods. “What a psychopath!” She exclaimed. “Yeah! Could you guys untie me?” “Sure.” They both said uneasily. My broken leg assured them I was no threat. I was escorted out by a rescue helicopter shortly thereafter. The surgeons at the hospital were able to save my leg. I don’t know who that trail surgeon was. I don't know where he wandered off to. He could be anywhere. I don’t recommend you go hiking by yourself, but if you do… Don’t let him operate on you.

I'm a Trucker for a Shady Organization. I Haul a Portal to Hell

y5ee2l

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y5ee2l/im_a_trucker_for_a_shady_organization_i_haul_a/

Every few weeks, I receive an assignment. I find every vehicle I sit in becomes the damned truck, until I complete the delivery. I wanted to chronicle my deliveries and hopefully get some of this off of my chest. Assignment 23, Day 2, 3:11am "Keep your hands on the steering wheel, no sudden movements!" The officer shouted, using his microphone to blare over the siren. I did as I was told, placing my hands on the steering wheel. I watched the passers-by slow to watch the spectacle. "Drop the window." The officer ordered, hand hovering over his holster. He added "slowly!" I slowly lowered the window, leaving my right hand on the steering wheel. "Good morning officer, how may I help you?" I yawned, slightly annoyed that I'd been pulled over just shy of the rest stop. "An anonymous tip called in. Come out and cross your hands behind your back. You are under arrest." The officer sprayed my face with saliva, practically frothing at the mouth. Thanks to some poor decisions in the past, I knew better than to run my mouth. "I am going to open the door sir. Please step back." "Don't order me around!" He growled, drawing his pistol. My pulse quickened slightly at the sight. "Sorry officer. It's been a long trip and I'm incredibly exhausted. I was trying to make it to this rest stop and catch some sleep. Please instruct me how to act." "Open that door." I opened the door, where the officer pulled it the rest of the way. He didn't seem to mind my lack of a seat belt. He proceeded to cuff me, lead me to his rear seat, throw me in, and slam the door. I rearranged myself to a more comfortable position. Just as I righted myself, the officer returned. "Keys. Where?" The officer shoved an outstretched hand in my face, bending his fingers into his palm a few times, in a 'give me' gesture. "Around my ne-ack?" I coughed as the officer tore the necklace from around my throat. "Wait!" I called, realizing what was happening. The officer ignored my calls, approaching the rear of my truck. I threw myself low to the ground, unsure of what would happen. The one rule I had was to never open the back. Experience told me staying low was the best option, should that rule be broken. **SCHWIP!** a meaty tearing sound exploded, then dozens of cars pressed on their horns. What sounded almost like hail pelted the roof of the cop car, tinging against the metal. **CLANG!** metal crashed against metal as the door slammed shut. The horns continued their auditory assault. Cautiously I wormed my way upright, shivering at the thought of what I'd see. "Here goes noth-guahh!" I lost my stomach, immediately regretting opening my eyes. **ring! ring! RING!** my alarm blared, dragging from the edge of shock. Numbly, I wiggled my phone from my pocket and dismissed the alarm. As soon as that concluded, my phone rang again. Groaning, I answered the call. "Cici, the clock is ticking." My dispatcher, I'll call Shithead, snickered. As his cackling concluded, the line went silent. With great effort, I managed to find the keys to my cuffs. They laid in a pile of crimson coated clothing just behind the truck door. "Yoink!" I giggled, swiping the holster for myself. Casually strolling to the driver’s seat, I stole a glance in the mirror. "You aren't well" my reflection said, a truth I tried to avoid. "Yeah well, what can I do?" I retorted, rolling my eyes. The mirror said nothing for a few minutes, so I looked up once more. *Missing. Of course she'd hide* I started the engine, shifted to drive, and went on my way. I was not out of the water yet. 4:09am I decided to make a call before calling it for the night. "Ey, Shi-I mean Simon," I started. "What do I do if the cargo is crying?" Shithead took a minute long sigh before replying "you have a single rule, Cici. Follow it." And he hung up. The sobbing continued, occasionally with a soft knocking from within. "Uh… hey in there?" I tried, testing the waters. The sobbing stopped suddenly, so I pressed my ear to the cold metal side panel. "What are you?" A woman hissed, or at least, in a woman's voice. "A truck… driver? What're you doing in my truck?" I countered, quickly doubting the legitimacy of the voice. "Wait, I'm in a truck?" She suddenly sounded very excited. "Let me out! Please! I've been trapped in here for too damn long!" She began knocking incessantly from within. *What do I do? I can't just leave her… but I can't open the door either…* "I-I'm sorry. I can't open the door." I bit my lip, desperately considering an excuse. "Please! I'm begging you!" She broke out into fresh, violent tears. The banging became frantic. I fell a few steps back, battling over what to do. I couldn't make up my mind, the whole while the banging and crying went on. Another part of me broke as I carefully, quietly returned to the cabin. My sleep was plagued with these terrible nightmares. I don't remember exactly what happened, but I know it was something about getting chased through an endless mall. On the plus side, the crying was gone when I woke up. 8:23am The rings under my eyes were pristine as ever, much like my progress on my route. At the rate I was going, I would make it in half a day. **WHAM!** my truck swerved and tires screeched. *Thank you seat belts!* Dizzy, I shot from the cabin to investigate. "Shit mate, you alright?" I ran over to the totaled 4x4 half crushed like a tin can against my truck. Smoke began trickling up from the destroyed vehicle, but the driver remained silent. I bolted to my cabin, recovering my crowbar and fire extinguisher, then back to the black 4x4. "I'll get you out!" I shouted, wrenching the door open after my fourth or fifth attempt. Inside, the ghostly pale driver sat, joints twisted all wrong. "Heyyy…" they croaked weakly. Swallowing back down the bile, I pulled the driver free. The driver was… incredibly light… like lighter than paper… *No blood? What the hell is going on?* "You're going to be okay-NOPE!" I screamed, hurling the driver as hard as I could. "That wasn't… very nice…" the driver whined, not seeming very concerned as their body fell apart bit by bit. "What the fuck!" I screamed, turning to run. "Chill." The driver growled. Something tackled me to the ground, pinning me there. "Get off!" I pleaded, flailing at my back. "Calm down already. Seriously, you're giving me a headache." The driver's head snaked beside my own, pupilless eyes gazing into my own. After a minute of failed escapes, I let out a trembling breath. "What?" I spat. "Hi. Think we can move? That truck is about to blow" they warned. As if on cue, a fire ignited out of the destroyed vehicle. The grapple loosened, and we took off. "Shit!" I cried, feeling the gravel give and I began to fall. "Gotcha" the driver caught me, then pulled me forwards. **FUUOO!** the truck detonated in a massive explosion. As the smoke cleared, I was ever so slightly relieved to see my own vehicle unscathed. "Hey? Heeey?" The driver called, though I could barely hear over the ringing in my ears. "What!" I shouted, expecting my heart to burst any minute now. "You know you have hell in your truck?" The driver asked. "Yeah! Kinda hard to ignore, thanks!" I spat incredulously. "Ah, hmm…" they trailed off. "I'll be tagging along then." "Yknow what. Fuck it, sure. You're driving first." The driver shrugged, snapping their limbs back into place with a sickening crunch. "Kay." [Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y6i9ab/im_a_trucker_for_a_shady_organization_i_haul_a/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=android_app&utm_name=androidcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button)

I’ve hidden the craziest fetish since adolescence, but I’m coming clean about it to save your life

y4nob0

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y4nob0/ive_hidden_the_craziest_fetish_since_adolescence/

Coulrophilia. It means I get off on clowns. No, I haven’t talked about it before. The reasons are obvious. I hid it from every sex partner about it until after I was married, because I couldn’t risk being the ‘clown guy.’ I didn’t even seek clown porn online. I just couldn’t risk allowing a shred of evidence to exist. So I imagined the most bizarre scenarios to keep me satisfied. The thought of a big, red nose bobbing up and down my shaft was a favorite adolescent masturbatory fantasy; I wanted nothing more than a coat of white makeup on my balls as evidence of my unspeakable deeds. I can’t even see a bicycle horn without getting aroused. My wife is an angel. Lucy held my hand through the entire discussion when I finally told her, never breaking eye contact or casting judgment. When I finished, she kissed me once and squeezed my hand. She told me that she was (understandably) surprised and unsure how to react, but that she loved me and would work with me to keep us both satisfied. We hugged, and I left the bedroom to have a drink and be alone with my thoughts. I’d been there for just nineteen minutes when I heard footsteps creaking down our thirteen wooden stairs. I felt a knot tighten in my throat as the door slowly creaked open. It was beyond bizarre to see a circus clown wander into the living room of my boring ranch home late on a weeknight – but she was beautiful. Heart racing, I glanced at every window to make sure the shades were drawn. I couldn’t have the neighbors witness a lifelong fetish finally coming to life. She moved in front of me on the couch, a shy, cute smile on her red and white face. A crooked conical cap completed the look as my dick sprang to life. Without a word, she knelt down and unbuckled my jeans. Her attention to detail was exquisite: the gloves fit her hands perfectly as she took my manhood in her nimble fingers. I was in ecstasy as her frilly collar tickled my balls. But what nearly put me over the edge was her shoes. She wore genuine size 25 floppy Ronald McDonald numbers that stole the show. I grabbed her green wig and prepared for the biggest orgasm of my life. That’s when Lucy opened the living room door. My brain struggled to assemble the conflicting information that it was receiving. I stared back and forth between the clown and my wife, not wanting to accept the reality before me. Lucy and I live alone, work from home, and just moved to a city where we have no social network. I had *no idea* who this clown might be. Lucy clearly had the same thoughts. Her face had turned whiter than the clown’s. The clown’s eyes darted back and forth between the two of us. No one wanted to make the first move. Lucy finally stepped forward, and that sent the clown into action. She leapt to her feet, ran across the room in her ridiculous floppy shoes, and fiddled with the door. The knob had been sticking, and it had taken us weeks to figure out how to work it just right. She opened the door on the first try and ran into the night. I didn’t cum. * I had no real option besides telling the cops everything. Lucy and I couldn’t allow this intruder to invade our home without attempting to figure out what the fuck had happened. Yeah. The cops stared at me like I was a freak and whispered openly in my presence about me being the ‘clown guy.’ There really wasn’t anything they could do. The clown had never spoken, and I didn’t see her actual face. We couldn’t offer any suspects. Eventually, the police left us to deal with the horrifying reality: The clown knew how to open the back door. She knew every detail of my fetish. This person had been living in our home, and probably for some time. I have no explanation for how she acquired the clown outfit so fast; the only possibility is that she had it on hand and ready to go at a moment’s notice. Lucy went to bed an hour ago after a triple dose of the leftover Vicodin from her last dental surgery. I, however, cannot sleep. This person has been watching and listening to us. She’s clearly obsessed with me and knows no boundaries. I don’t even have the beginnings of an idea for how she’s been getting into and out of our home. It is impossible to imagine myself ever sleeping again. I’ve never been this scared. Any advice on how I can face the next forty years of my life would be [greatly appreciated](https://www.facebook.com/P-F-McGrail-181784199029462/). [BD](https://www.reddit.com/r/ByfelsDisciple/) [W](https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCcn_pa1QfNMRzbTuJqXSoRQ) [E](https://www.reddit.com/r/TheCrypticCompendium/)

I just wanted coupons but I think I accidentally sold my soul

y4xy6j

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y4xy6j/i_just_wanted_coupons_but_i_think_i_accidentally/

It turns out Hell is real, but at least it smells nice. I always thought of a human soul as something extremely valuable. You only have one and if you sold it, it was for something cliched, like to save a loved one, or an inordinate amount of money, or all the knowledge in the world. You know, *something,* anything of value. But not me. I accidentally sold my soul for 25% off hand soap. I’m not sure if my use of ‘Hell’ and ‘soul’ are truly appropriate here – I’m just not really sure how else to describe what I’ve experienced. I suppose it’s my own fault for not reading the fine print. I was always so good about that, too – from software updates to my rental agreement, I tended to read all things super carefully. Except of course, the one time my life depended on it … I guess I just never expected a simple store loyalty program to have such a life (and after-life) altering impact. The chain is a common one, found in most malls across the country. I’m not sure if all their stores are like this, or just mine because it’s the ‘original’ store and that means something somehow. I cannot get more specific, it’s too risky and I’m running out of chances. I’m sorry. On that fateful day, I was in the area and since there was a big sale, I was stocking up on gifts. The store was filled with brightly colored bottles of soaps, lotions, and candles and the walls were plastered with cheery posters. On the air lingered an unusual mixture of assorted sample scents that was borderline cacophonous, but somehow worked. It was bustling, there were actually more employees than customers – I hoped that meant that they took care of their staff and were a good place to work. Wishful thinking, I suppose. As I checked out, the employee at the register quietly asked if I wanted to join their loyalty program. While he did this, he gave me what I now realize was a nearly imperceptible shake of his head. He looked at me with something akin to decades of regret in his sad hazel eyes, despite his young appearance. His name tag, which indicated his name was Jeremy, said he had worked at the store since August 2022. I had to prompt him a bit to find out more details. He stared at me reluctantly, looked around, and told me in an unenthused tone that I could get 10% off each purchase, earn points and get 25% off my purchase that day just for signing up. I thought ‘sure, I’ll take a discount on this hand soap’, and went for it. I used the throwaway email address I use for random junk, and I read through the minuscule text on the first page of terms and conditions on the little keypad and found it to be pretty standard. By page three I felt guilty about the long line forming behind me and just scrolled through the remaining four pages so I could sign quickly. In retrospect, I don’t know why I didn’t find seven pages of fine print for a store loyalty program suspicious at the time – but I guess all things seem more obvious in hindsight. Once I had signed off on the tiny novel I had skimmed through, the cashier could no longer meet my eyes. Instead, his darted back and forth, and he quickly wrote something on the bottom of the receipt and circled it. After he did so, he winced, and I saw he had a fresh cut on his palm. The palms of both his hands were already filled with cuts and scars. His look of deep exhaustion suddenly turned into one of pain and fear and he looked around frantically. I was worried and I asked him if he was okay, but he seemed lost in his own world. Unsure of what to do, I just left. I looked at the receipt that night and noticed instead of circling some sort of survey code, he had circled a message written in messy, rushed handwriting: ‘don’t get 5’. It turns out, they take loyalty **very** seriously. I wish I had read the damn agreement. I live in a small town, so it takes me at least 45 minutes each way to drive out to the aforementioned store, the one that’s ruining my life. So, a few weeks later, when I was getting ready to go out of town for a conference, I bought a cheap travel-sized lotion from a different shop. As I swiped my credit card, I felt a searing pain and then stared, confused, as blood began to drip from the palm of my hand and onto the counter. A thin but deep line seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. I had no clue how or when I’d managed to cut myself and I offered to get a paper towel and clean it, but the cashier smiled nervously and said she’d handle it. I felt guilty but figured it was probably kinder of me to just leave so I’d stop bleeding all over the place. That cut really hurt, too. It healed quickly, but it formed an ugly scar. I didn’t make the connection at that time. I mean sure, it seems painfully obvious now, having seen the end result, but at the I didn’t make the logical jump that my little plastic discount card for 10% off lotions and soaps would have had a lasting impact on the rest of my existence. My next apparent transgression was leaving a 3-star review on one of the soaps that I had thought smelled a bit ‘meh’. As soon as I had clicked ‘submit’, I felt the same sharp pain, and a second ‘hash mark’ appeared next to the other. I realized then what Jeremy had been trying to warn me about. The solution sounds easy enough, don’t buy anything anywhere else, never leave a negative review. But, I found another caveat, too. A few weeks later, my sister gifted me a candle from a different store for my birthday and the moment I unwrapped it, another deep hashmark was carved into my hand by the same invisible source. My family stared at me, alarmed, as the vivid red dripped onto the discarded wrapping paper on my lap. My sister quickly apologized and grabbed it away from me, inspecting it for broken glass or other sharp edges, and of course she didn’t find any – I knew she wouldn’t. I quickly made up a bogus story about accidentally reopening a recent cut I got at work. I mean, would they have believed me if I told them the truth? The next day, I drove to the store, using the 45 minutes to mentally plan my conversation points, namely 1) What the hell, man? And 2) How do I get out of the program? Once I walked in, I noticed familiar faces. They seemed to be the same batch of employees from my previous visit, but upon closer inspection I noticed that they seemed tired, empty. One particularly sad looking man had his hand on the glass window and was staring out with a look of such wistful longing – an expression that no should ever wear when staring into a parking lot. I approached one employee, who according to her nametag was Suzzanne Z. and had worked at the store since 1991 (which was strange since based on her appearance, that seemed to be several years before she was born). I asked for Jeremy and her eyes flickered to a camera on the ceiling. She said I'd need to ask her Manager. I decided to browse a bit while waiting, but the Manager was there the moment I turned around. She was uncomfortably close to me, and her eyes were such a pale shade of blue that her irises would’ve almost blended in with her sclera save for a dark ring of gold around them. I felt an odd sensation behind my own eyes when I met her gaze and I couldn’t help but notice that she was the only employee who seemed genuinely happy to be there. When I asked to speak to Jeremy, she artfully dodged my question. She was friendly, but in a way that was borderline threatening. I kept pressing until she informed me that there was no longer a Jeremy working there and smiled at me with far too many teeth. I asked how to get out of the loyalty program, and instead of answering, she grabbed my hand, looked at my palm, and patted me on the shoulder as another deep cut appeared. “No one leaves the program, Lindsey. At the rate you’re going, I’m sure I’ll see you back here in a few days.” She seemed absolutely thrilled about the idea. “Good news, though! We’re hiring!” She laughed heartily at this, and as she did her jaw seemed to open wider and wider. I backed away and turned to run right as it seemed as if she was about to unhinge it. I needed help, so I discretely stuck around until the mall closed, hoping to catch an employee heading out. I figured that maybe I could get a copy of the agreement I had signed – I didn’t feel safe trying to talk to anyone else while inside the store. They eventually closed, but gated the store from the inside. The Manager disappeared into the back. The other employees simply stood in the darkness. I could make out their forms nearly still but slightly swaying, for hours on end. I eventually gave up and went home. Since Jeremy had seemed willing to help, I tried finding him online, but his name was so common that I couldn't even after an hour of searching. I tried Suzzanne next since she had a unique spelling plus a a somewhat uncommon last initial of Z. I tried to find her on social media but couldn’t. I did eventually find her after digging through several pages of search results, but once I did, I realized that I’d never be able to get in touch with her: the only mention I could find of Suzzanne Z. was through findagrave.com, which told me that Suzzanne was buried a few towns over. It linked to an old, digitized obituary with a picture, and without a doubt, this was the same Suzzanne from the store. According to the obituary she had been otherwise healthy, but passed away in her sleep in 1991 at the age of 25. Based on what I found, I decided to try and find Jeremy again, but this time I searched specifically for an obituary, and from around the time when his nametag said he started working at the store. I did eventually find him, and that he left this world when his car seemed to randomly swerve off the road and into the bay, in August 2022. I have four marks now, and it’s only been a month and a half. I think I know what happens if I get five. I hope I never find out what happens if I get ten. Without knowing what the rules are, I don’t know how long I can go without making what will become a lethal mistake. I had to tell my friends and family that they absolutely cannot buy me soap, hand sanitizer, room spray, lotion, candles – basically if it smells nice **do not** give it to me. I’ve started bringing my own soap to work, too, in my purse. I sound and feel crazy, but I don’t want to risk it. I don’t talk to anyone about the store or products. I had been debating if I should write this for about a week and I’m honestly a bit afraid of what will happen when I hit ‘Post’. I am hoping that I’ve been vague enough for this to not to count against me. If it does, but keeps someone else safe, it’ll be worth it. Please, always read the fine print. Please don’t sign your soul away for coupons.

I don't know what's happening anymore

y58s6s

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y58s6s/i_dont_know_whats_happening_anymore/

I grew up in a small town where nothing ever really happened. It was a nice quiet place, low crime, about 900 people, and on the edge of a beautiful forest. At least it was nice until a couple months ago. It started when a kid went missing after school. He had gotten off of his bus and that was the last anyone saw of him. Of course a huge investigation occurred and rumors were being spread but nothing ever really came of it. The rumor mill was big though. You see, even when I was a kid there was a rumor about something that would take people into the woods and eat them. Parents used to say it to scare their kids into coming home early. So I didn’t really believe in it. Although it was said that anytime something like that happened, a horrific scream would come from the forest. But I never heard it, at least not until after that kid went missing. I was walking downtown when a screeching noise came from the forest. Almost like an old broken tornado siren screeching out its last life. I looked around to see if anyone else could hear it but no one else was around. Almost like the town was empty. Then, when the sound ended, people were exiting stores and acting as though nothing happened. Although, one person came up to me and said “You heard that right? You have to tell me you heard that.” “I did, what was that?” “It was the scream of someone who became lost.” “Became lost? What do you mean they became lost?” “Can’t talk anymore, they’re watching. Don’t trust anyone. You have to get out of here.” And with that the man ran into a nearby alley disappearing out of sight. “Who was that?” I heard coming from behind me. I turned to see Chris, one of the town's police officers and a good friend. “I don’t know, I haven’t seen him before.” “Hm, well its a small town. If I see him again I’ll be sure to give him a talkin.” “You do that Chris, I gotta go though, nice seein ya.” With that I was off and continued my normal day to day monotonous life. That was until more missing persons signs kept popping up. You see it's one thing when one sign comes up every once in a while. But it’s another when thirteen have gone missing in the last three months. Something was wrong and I was determined to figure it out. After the seventh sign popped up that was when I decided to give Chris a visit at the station, but he was nowhere to be seen. The clerk told me that he went on vacation, but that didn’t seem right. Chris was someone who loved his job and loved working. In the last ten years I have lived here, he only went on vacation twice. The other thing that seemed off was the way the clerk spoke. “I’ll let hhihhim know you stopped when he gets back.” Something about her voice was off. It didn’t sound human. It sounded as though an AI was learning to speak but still had some hiccups. That right there put me on edge. It wasn’t the first time I noticed it either. The last few months I’ve noticed people’s voices sounding like that. Maybe I’m going crazy though, I haven’t been sleeping well and my insomnia has been catching up to me. Yah that’s it, I’m just tired. I need some sleep. “Wake up.” I heard in my ear as I shot up from my bed scanning around the room only to find nothing like usual. That was the fourth time that it has happened in the last month and I was getting pretty annoyed. It was always at 3:16 in the morning that I would wake up hearing something say that. I got up and searched my room like usual looking for whatever spoke but could never find it. Then because of that, I would be awake the rest of the day. It pretty much just became my routine. I’ll let you know if anything changes. It’s November second and the weather is getting pretty chilly outside. The last missing person was found today and is being questioned. The police department wants me to come and speak to him. I guess being the only psychiatrist in town puts you on the spot. I’m heading there at noon to speak with him. As I was heading to the police station random people kept watching me every second as I passed. It was as though these few had their eyes glued on me waiting for something. Once I reached the station and got in, an officer greeted me right away. “This wayay.” he said, leading me into an interrogation room. “What’s his name?” I asked “Greg Farlec” The officer replied, opening the door. “Also no taking of notes or bringing in sharp objects. So hand them over nwow.” Confused, I handed the officer my belongings and entered the room. “Mr. Farlec, I heard you wished to speak with me?” The man sitting in front of me looked up from his hands and I recognized who it was. It was the man who talked to me after the first screech was heard. “What are you doing here, you need to leave.” “What do you mean? Why do I need to leave?” These people aren’t who they say they are. You need to get out of here.” Entertaining the man I asked, “And… How do you get out of here?” “Kill yourself.” “Excuse me?” “You need to kill yourself, do it to escape. Otherwise they’ll keep you here. Feed off of you. Here let me help.” With that the man lunged at me gripping his hands around my neck. “You’ll see, you’ll soon see.” He said as we fell down, his hands still choking the life out of me. In the matter of seconds officers rushed in pulling the man off of me and screaming at me to leave. The last thing I heard as the door closed behind me was “Burn them all.” I couldn’t sleep at all the night after that. I kept hearing voices and skittering noises around the house. That guy had gotten into my head to make me think I was crazy. It was about four in the morning when I heard a knock on my door. It was Chris, I hadn’t seen him in a month. “Where the fuck have you been?” I said annoyed at him. “Vacation.” “That’s all you’re gonna say. Vacation.” Chris just stared at me blankly like I said something that offended him. “Wha-” “Can I come in.” He said interrupting my next question. “Sure, come on in.” I replied, opening the door more and motioning him inside. “What did he tell you?” He said sharply walking into my kitchen. “What do you mean?” “The man at the station. What did he tell you?” Something about the whole altercation seemed off, Chris seemed off, and the town seemed off. These last few months haven’t felt normal. A lot of townsfolk didn’t act the way they used to. And all sounded off. It was starting to really get to me. Chris began snapping at me while saying “Tell me what he said.” “Nothing, he just attacked me as soon as he saw me.” “Fine, don’t tell me the truth. I’ll just have to get it out of you.” With that Chris pulled out his baton and began marching towards me. “What the fuck are you doing?” I said right before getting hit in the head and falling to the ground. Flashes of things I didn’t remember coming to the forefront of my mind. Hearing the third screech, walking into the forest, an old abandoned house, skittering in the trees, something crawling down my throat. All that washed away though as the second baton hit me in the ribs. An audible crack was heard and Chris said once more. “Tell me what he sa-ahrg” He was cut off as I kicked his knee inward causing him to collapse. I quickly got up and began running outside. As I entered my car I saw Chris running toward me as if his backwards knee had never even happened. I slammed the car into reverse and sped out backwards out of my driveway until I hit something. Or something hit me. Stopping to assess the situation I saw a couple of townsfolk who began running and slamming themselves into my car. One even grabbed onto the top railings and began slamming her head multiple times into the passenger side window until it spidered. “What the fuck?” I screamed and she began pushing her face into the window causing the glass to cut away and peel off parts of her face. “I’m gonna getcha!” She said before I said said fuck this, kicking it into drive and speeding off. I was heading for the town exit. Which prompted me to go through our main street and cross a bridge. While at main I saw buildings and cars on fire as well as twenty or thirty people all fighting and tearing each other apart. More of them ramming themselves into my car or in front of it in hopes to stop me. “What the fuck is going on!” I screamed as a man threw a brick at my car, shattering the windshield. I just need to get to the bridge I kept saying to myself to get me through the carnage. It was another minute or so and I was there, but boy was I in for a surprise. As I reached the middle of the bridge, cop lights appeared on the other side. They created a barricade. I decided to kick it into reverse, but as I looked in my rearview mirror I saw Chris’s cruiser. Along with twenty bloodied up townspeople behind him. “Fuck fuck fuck what do I do what do I do.” I said to myself trying to think of a solution. “Cmon man, It’s not that bad here. Come back into town and we can sort this all out.” I heard over the intercom. It was Chris’s voice. “We can make you forget all this ever happened. Just come out with your hands up.” That was it, I lost. There was nothing I could do, I was trapped and wanted this all to be over. “Wake up.” I heard in my ear as I shot up from my bed scanning around the room only to find nothing like usual. That was the fifth time that it has happened in the last month and I was getting pretty annoyed. It was always at 4:16 in the morning that I would wake up hearing something say that. I got up and searched my room like usual looking for whatever spoke but could never find it. Then because of that, I would be awake the rest of the day. It pretty much just became my routine. Something was off though… I looked at my clock again, “3:16”. That's not right, it just said 4:16. With that, flashes of the previous night came to mind. Chris hitting me, that lady peeling off her face in my window, and then waking up. It’s not right, nothing's right, “What is this place?” I said to myself before falling asleep again. “Wake up.” I heard in my ear as I shot up from my bed scanning around the room only to find nothing like usual. That was the third time that it has happened in the last month and I was getting pretty annoyed. It was always at 2:16 in the morning that I would wake up hearing something say that. I got up and searched my room like usual looking for whatever spoke but could never find it. Then because of that, I would be awake the rest of the day. It pretty much just became my routine. “Wait two sixteen?” I said to myself, that's not normal. Previous night's affairs began flashing in my head. Me heading into the woods, something crawling down my throat, Chris hitting me, bridge, death.” As I stood up I suddenly felt dizzy, almost falling to the floor. “Stay awake.” I said to myself, pinching my neck to keep me awake. “Honey, come baaack to bed.” I heard call out from behind me. “I will in a minute sweetie. Just going to the bathroom.” I called out, out of impulse. As I finished up in the bathroom I looked in the mirror and saw hand prints on my neck. “How did those get there?” I said as I stroked them. “Honey.” I heard from the doorway. “What are you doing?” “Sorry I was just checking…” As I looked back at the mirror the marks were gone as if nothing happened. “I’ll be going to bed in a sec.” She giggled as she walked away back towards the bedroom. Something wasn’t right. I needed to figure out what was happening. But not after some rest. I awoke standing on the ledge of the bridge, cops on one side, bloody townspeople on the other. Chris’s voice over the megaphone again. “Don’t! You don't know what you’re doing. You’ll kill us all. Just step down and we can make you forget.” Contemplating for a second I stepped back half a step. Previous nights flashing through my head. “That’s it man, it’ll be ok.” “No.” I said as I launched myself off the bridge. They say the first thing you think of when you jump is regret. Boy is that right, feeling myself fall faster and faster almost made me pass out until. I awoke groggy in a dark room, barely able to comprehend what was going on. Skittering on the floor and a screeching noise happening. But as I focused more I saw a tube pulsating in front of me going up to something on the ceiling. Shitty thing is, that the tube was also down my throat. Gagging, I slowly reached up and grabbed it. As soon as my hands touched in I heard a little shriek. That began to get louder and louder as I pulled the tube out. The thing must have been five feet long until it finally came plopping out. I still had one hand on it as it lunged towards my mouth again. Little eyes and a mouth full of sharp triangular teeth met me face to face. I squeezed harder and threw it on the ground before stomping on it. Once I was done I looked around and saw that I was in a basement full of people. At least forty, all either sitting or leaning against the wall, white tubes down their throat. Sadly I can’t say I went and saved all of them. I don’t think I could have. The majority of them all looked almost mummified. Some pretty much were. Skittering could be heard coming from a room across from me. Little creatures poured in through the doorway making their way towards me. The screeching and squealing was almost unbearable. Looking around trying to find a way out I saw something that made my heart drop. It was Chris. Although he looked a lot older than the last time I saw him. His beard was unkempt and his uniform was almost black from dust. My saving grace. Once I reached him I began shaking him profusely but it was to no avail. “I’m so fucked.” I said right before my eyes met his service pistol. I grabbed that and began shooting at the mass heading towards me. I hit a few, heard screeches and the rest scurried their way out of the room. “You need to stop.” I heard coming from across the room. I Turned to see an almost mummified man sitting on what appeared to be a throne made of I don’t even know what. As I looked around I noticed all the tubes led into one central mass. And that central mass had a tube leading to that thing. “You’ll doom our whole species.” It spoke again. “Why should I care after what I just discovered?” “You were not supposed to wake up. You were supposed to feed us for years to come. We only take when need be. But when others come looking, we like to feast.” “What are you doing to these people?” “Feeding.” “Feeding off of what?” “Emotions. They are a delicacy. The only sad thing is that we have to virtually make husks of you. How about this. You leave and never look back. By the time you find civilization and get them to come back we will be gone. You’ll be deemed crazy and I will be sure to find you again. Or you can bring me a replacement and help feed us, until we are strong enough to take over, and you will be spared. The choice is yours.” I stood there thinking for a second before almost out of instinct, raising the gun and shooting the being multiple times. Screeches and rumbles could be heard all around. The bulbus in the center of the room shook and the creatures from earlier were coming back. “Wrong Choice.” The being said before it fell limp. I looked around eagerly to try and devise a plan but nothing was coming up. “Burn them” I heard Greg say in the back of my mind. I looked to Chris’s service belt to see his flare gun. I grabbed that and pointed at the mass on the ceiling firing the only shot I had into it. A deafening scream rang out causing me to drop to the floor holding my hands over my ears. Until I passed out. I awoke in a hospital bed covered in bandages and loud ringing in my ears. “Nurse He’s awake.” I heard a familiar voice say. Looking up I saw that same malnourished Chris I saw in the basement looking at me. “Where am I?” I asked, sitting up slowly. “Careful man, don’t get up too fast. You’ve been out for a while.” “I thought you were…” “Dead? Nah, I awoke to that screeching and dragged your ass out before the whole building collapsed. What was that in there?” “It said that it was feeding on us, and that… are there anymore survivors?” “Just us, believe I tried but the building was so old that the flare you shot caused the place to light up like gas on a fire. I barely had time to pull that tube out and carry you out before it collapsed.” “What about that man in there? The mummy looking guy. Did you see him leave?” “What mummy looking guy?” “Nevermind, he must’ve stayed there.” “You ok man?” “I don’t know. I’m Just glad to be out.” “Yah, same heheer.”

The Moravian Night Doctor

y4x8xy

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y4x8xy/the_moravian_night_doctor/

So far, I have had two experiences with the European healthcare system. The first was a lesson in how free healthcare works and the second… Well, the second was a lesson in the incomprehensible. My first interaction with a local hospital came approximately three hours after I touched down in Prague from Newark and I nearly cut off my finger. On the flight over I managed to drop one of my airpods into a glass of orange juice so I bought a cheap pair of headphones at the airport. The packaging of the headphones was impossible to pry open with my fingers, so my smart ass decided to raid the hostel’s knife cabinet for the sharpest blade I could find. Ten minutes later I was in an Uber with my gushing finger wrapped in countless paper towels. Growing up in the US the European healthcare system has always been a mystery. My trip to Prague’s Motol hospital did a fair amount to illuminate that enigma. No insurance? No problem. 30$ patch-up and no questions asked. Spent about fifteen minutes in the waiting room and the doctor had the bedside manner of a prison guard but it was nice not having to pay an arm and a leg for a simple mistake. When I did a free tour of Prague two days later my tour guide assured me that most Czech doctors treat their patients like war criminals awaiting trial, so I shouldn’t take it personally. I didn’t. I was just happy my accident didn’t include excessive paper work. I thought I had a fun cultural experience. I thought I’d come home with a keepsake scar and spend the rest of my Central European adventure with my right hand wrapped in gauze. I was wrong. A week later, I type this message with fingers that bare no evidence of my accident. Back in Prague the doctor told me that it might take a couple months for me to regain feeling in my sliced fingers and that I should be ready for the possibility that those two fingers will always feel somewhat numb, yet as I type this message, they feel brand new. My whole body feels brand new. My whole body feels brand new because tonight, I had my second experience with the local healthcare system. So I’m standing outside of a pub in Olomouc, Eastern Czech Republic, enjoying a cigarette. It’s well past two in the morning and the pub closed down three hours ago but there’s still a sizable party going on inside. My cousin — who I’m visiting — knows the owner and insisted that the place stay open so that he could show me a good time. There’s enough plumb schnapps at the bar to drive the whole city blind and the patrons aren’t particularly concerned about their eyesight. It's a fun night — but these folks go hard and I need a breather. So, I pop outside for a cigarette. My parents used to live in Olomouc back in the communist days but escaped over to the West when the Soviets sent half a million troops to Czechoslovakia as a gift of “brotherly assistance”. My parents escaped the system, but I was raised on stories of their youth. I distinctly remember looking out at the lamp lit cobbled streets trying to imagine my mom and pops drunkenly strolling around singing anti-government songs. My drunken imagination came to a sudden halt as I got punched in the stomach. The guy was wearing a dark hoodie and was at least a head taller than me. That’s all that I could make sense of. He just rushed by me, socked me in the stomach and then continued stumbling up the street. A couple of feet later, the man in the hoodie came upon a street sign. He seized the metal pole in one hand and started punching the sign itself with the other. Three or four dull metal thuds later, my assailant turned the corner and disappeared down one of the alleys. The punch had knocked the wind out of me. Before I could make sense of what had happened another figure grabbed me and shook me by the shoulders — a woman in her twenties with enough metal in her face to make a headbutt deadly. I barely speak the language, but from her expression and the handful of Duolingo classes I took on the flight over I could tell she was apologizing. She shook me, apologized and then ran off after the man in the hoodie. ‘*No police, please*’, she kept on yelling in Czech as she disappeared. ‘*No police!*’ I was drunk enough to not feel the initial impact of the hit, but as my breath returned a sharp pain started to spread through my abdomen. Once I was sure I wasn’t going to vomit I made my way back into the pub. Again, I don’t speak Czech very well. My cousin, to match me, barely speaks English. It took a good amount of gestures and google translate work to explain exactly what happened. As I was pantomiming my random assault the party was in full swing, yet as my point started to come across the merriment slowly drifted from the pub. ‘Stranger man on street hit you belly?’ my cousin finally asked. Everyone was quiet. Everyone was watching us. I nodded. My cousin shook his head in disappointment, slammed some colorful bills on the bar and then put on his coat. ‘Time to go find man who punch,’ he finally said, standing in the doorway. My stomach was still in pain, but I tried to argue. I had no interest in getting into a fistfight anywhere — let alone abroad. To all my arguments my cousin shook his head. ‘If man punch you and you let him walk away without fight or sorry, you will hurt for rest of life. Come, time to find man who punch.’ I don’t know how many of the pub patrons understood English, but they all nodded along in agreement. They had all decided it was best for me to leave with my cousin to go find the man who punch. The sweet smell of liquor and sweat in the bar felt infinitely safer than the cold streets outside, yet I was a guest of my cousin’s. I didn’t question him. I just put on my coat and followed him out into the night. As the door was closing behind us the owner of the pub shouted something to my cousin. Again, Czech isn’t my strong suit, so most of the sentence flew past me. I did, however, understand one phrase of the bartender’s message: *Noční Doktor.* The Night Doctor. I tried steering us off course and asking my cousin what the Night Doctor is then — but his aim was singular. He wanted to find the man who punched me. With some trepidation, I pointed to the street sign my hooded assailant had attacked. There were specs of blood right next to the indented directions to the city center. My cousin set out through the city in a confident pace and I, reluctantly, followed behind. The impact of the sucker punch had ballooned up to my chest and each breath I took made me twitch. I didn’t feel like I needed medical attention, yet I did want the night to come to an end. I figured it soon would, the chances of randomly bumping into the guy who socked me seemed minimal. Yet, after about a fifteen minute journey, we arrived at a large open square with a haunting gothic column in the center. Next to the centuries old monument stood the hooded giant who had hit me and the woman who had begged me to not call the police. They were arguing about something. I have never been in a fist-fight and, judging by his physique, neither has my cousin. As chubby and short as he is though, my companion approached the situation with blind courage. With theatrical flare, he put out his cigarette against the back of his shoe and then started to shout at the arguing couple. They quickly stopped arguing. I was drunk and hurt, but seeing the giant approach my cousin sent a shot of adrenalin up my spine. He looked as if he was about to swing at him as well. That wouldn’t end well. There were no cops on the street. I had no chance of backing my cousin up. I braced for the worst, but my panic quickly gave way to confusion. My cousin spoke in a low and assertive tone, occasionally pointing back to me, occasionally to the city beyond. Instead of throwing another punch, the giant’s shoulders slumped. He intently listened as my cousin spoke, outlining some sort of a deal. The woman who had been bickering with the giant listened too, but only for a bit. Before my cousin had finished talking, she rushed past him and began pleading with me directly. Again, I don’t speak the language, so I couldn’t figure out what she was saying. I could make out the phrase ‘*no police’* and she seemed apologetic enough, but her eyes were wild and she was way too close. Walking backwards I yelled to my cousin for a translation. ‘She say her boyfriend angry man. He catch her with other man. He get angry and he hit everything. No control. Nothing personal when he hit you. She says everyone sorry. She says do not call police because boyfriend criminal. I agree. Maybe we don’t call police but he must —’ ‘Hit him!’ the woman yelled in English. She dragged her giant before me and illustrated her point by hitting him and making an equal sign. The giant looked at me from above, looking like a Slavic Moai head with puppy eyes. He had been crying. ‘She say you hit him and then everything equal. But I say —’ ‘Hit me,’ the giant ordered, lowering his head. ‘Hit me,’ he said, tapping his cheek. Every ounce of self-preservation I had went against the giant’s wishes. I didn’t want to hit him. I was already in enough pain. For all I knew his ‘angry’ instincts would send another hit back in reflex and kill me. I didn’t want to hit him but there was alcohol on his breath and he was a head taller than me. With a respectful amount of strength, I planted my fist in the giant’s stomach. Throwing the punch sent a lightning bolt of pain up my abdomen and the giant barely flinched. The moment I pulled my hand back the woman grabbed the giant and started to drag him away from us. She considered the matter resolved. So did I. My cousin did not. ‘*Ne!’* he hissed, and then, with a familiar low tone of voice, proceeded to make demands. From his speech I could only decipher a single phrase, repeated multiple times: *Noční Doktor —* The Night Doctor. With each mention of the name the woman grew more and more agitated until finally she started to yell back. She started yelling at me to hit the giant again. When that didn’t work she started to swinging her purse like a mace in the general direction of my cousin. The giant gently pushed her aside and shook his head. ‘She say you hitting make justice, but I say no. You are guest. Should be treated with honor. This man punch — you get justice. You can only get justice with Night Doctor,’ my cousin said, producing another cigarette. ‘So I make man call Night Doctor.’ ‘What’s a Night Doctor?’ I asked. My cousin puffed on his cigarette and thought. ‘He is man who…’ with frustration he pointed to the stars and snapped his fingers hoping for words to manifest. None did in English. He said a couple words in Czech which I did not comprehend. ‘He is man who help. Both help you and help get justice. You see. Don’t scared. Night Doctor working quick.’ He snapped at the giant and the giant’s head went low. In a voice strained with fear, the man started to recite some sort of a poem or prayer. I understood none of it, with the exception of one phrase: *Noční Doktor* — The Night Doctor. As the giant recited his prayer the woman took a handful of steps aside and turned her back. My cousin also inched further away from me and the giant, but he kept his eyes locked on us. When the giant finished his recital, the air grew still. A piercing chill joined the numb aches that followed each breath I took. For a moment I saw my cousin puffing on his cigarette, but the ashes were travelling up the rolling paper far too fast. He breathed out a large cloud of smoke and with it, he disappeared. Everything disappeared. My cousin was gone, the giant was gone, the gothic column in the center of the square was gone. All that remained was a sea of cobblestones beneath my feet and the wild stars above. Then, out of the darkness, a terrible thing emerged. It wore a long dark coat with golden buttons and had the facial features of a man, but it certainly wasn’t a man. It’s face was old and eyeless and possessed a thin moustache of white. The rest of its body was not of flesh but of an ethereal light that pulsed between a starlight white and a foggy blue. Without its formless feet touching the ground, the specter advanced toward me with its hand stretched out. I was far too paralyzed with drunkenness and fear to do anything, but the ghoul’s hand touching my forehead shocked me awake. The touch of that terrible thing was colder than any winter I had ever felt. I screamed in pain and shock. Or, at least, I tried to scream. Nothing but a weak hiss came out of my mouth. A shot of ice ran up my jaw. The specter used its free hand to close my mouth shut. I stared on at the being in terror as it pulled its hands back and moved closer. The Night Doctor pressed its frigid lips against my forehead. My terror had reached to the point of nausea yet the moment the horror’s lips touched my forehead my stomach eased. The pain from the hit, the uneasiness from the alcohol — it all rocketed up through my being and exited without a trace. My perception cleared and I could only sense one thing: The Night Doctor smelled like freshly roasted coffee in an infection ridden hospital. As the specter pulled back my head grew light. The Night Doctor’s form disappeared beneath the weight of an incoming faint — yet when my vision cleared I was back on the square with my cousin. The body of the Night Doctor was imperceptible in the gaslight, but his coat remained. The long formal coat of the Night Doctor was wrapped around the giant. The woman had her back turned away from the scene but in the quiet night, gently hiding beneath the whistling of the wind — I could hear her sobbing. Soon enough the soft cries of the woman got overtaken by guttural dry heaves. My hooded assailant fell to his knees and reached for his stomach. Just before the giant started to vomit, the Night Doctor’s jacket slid to the side. It flew off in the night wind and disappeared into the darkness as if it had never existed. The giant was holding his stomach in the spot where he had punched me. Not only did he seem to inherit my wound, he seemed to inherit my drunkenness. When the man finally finished emptying his stomach, the giant looked up at my cousin with eyes so glassy it was a wonder they were conscious. My cousin nodded. And with that nod the giant went on his way. He walked opposite the way in which the Night Doctor’s coat flew. The woman ignored him at first, but eventually she caught up with him and gave him some paper towels from her purse. ‘See? Justice. You no longer hurt. now only man who punch hurt,’ my cousin said, lighting up another cigarette. ‘Now, we go drink more?’ I told him I would prefer to go home. He acquiesced; I was a *guest* after all. My cousin passed out the moment we got home. He slept soundly like a baby and snored like a wood saw. The terrible visage of the Night Doctor kept me awake for a good chunk of the night, but eventually my exhaustion set in. I slept, or at least I think I slept because at some point the sun had risen. I was willing to catalog the whole affair as a drunken misremembering, but I can’t do that anymore. I had drunk enough the night prior to be put out of commission for at least a day, but I don’t feel hungover in the least bit. My stomach, as well, bears no signs of injury. Last night I was having trouble breathing but today I feel more alive than I ever had. I feel as if every ache and pain from my back has been removed as well. I feel great. Yet it’s not just my soberness and lack of aches that makes me think that my ails were transferred by the Night Doctor. Had I simply woken up hungover and without bruises I would have found a way to ignore what had happened the night prior. I might have even avoided this whole corner of the internet all together. But I am here. And I’m here for a reason. This morning, as my cousin snored in the living room, I made my way over to the bathroom. I wanted to brush my teeth and my bandages were due to be changed. I had never changed them before and I haven’t had a chance to look at the wound properly since it had been sown up. I presumed the sight would be unpleasant, but what I found was shocking enough to make me feel faint. Beneath the bandages there was no wound. My fingers, the same fingers that I type this message with, the same fingers that were nearly sliced off during my accident a week prior — they are completely whole. I do not understand what happened last night. The concept of the Night Doctor completely escapes my understanding and I fear that with the language barrier I will never truly comprehend it. My mind keeps reeling back to watching the woman and her giant walk away into the dark night. I have visions of sitting in an uber with my fingers wrapped in a mass of paper towels. Even though he hit me, I hope the giant is okay. I hope that whatever scar he inherited from my misadventure with the headphone packaging doesn’t cause him too much of a headache. I hope he’s fine. He should be fine. I hear the healthcare is pretty good [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/MJLPresents/).

He Made Me Watch

y53wbx

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y53wbx/he_made_me_watch/

He dragged the old wooden chair in front of me, and then sat down—still holding the rusted crowbar. We were directly in the diamond-shaped scope of sunlight from the cave’s collapsed ceiling, and I hazily watched the illumined specks of dust as they floated in and out of the illuminating column. Behind the glimmering motes, *he* sat staring at me, his irregularly spaced eyes fixed darkly on my bruised face. I couldn’t meet his gaze, couldn’t bring myself to stare—yet again—into those abysmal pits. The last time, there had only been a cold depravity in them; a hollowness, a chilling, inwardly spiraling darkness.  His face, though scarred and misshapen, was expressionless; the pallid skin taut upon the asymmetrical cheekbones and the misaligned jaw. His profound hideousness was the least terrifying thing about him. I’d seen all sorts of bruised, scarred, and physically wretched people before; it was his aura of thoughtless malignance that unsettled me, that would’ve driven me away from his presence, had I seen him out in public—had I not been abruptly abducted from campus whilst walking home from class... We sat there for a while, silently. I had long since abandoned any hope of talking him out of it. I didn’t even know what he wanted—he hadn’t spoken a word, and ignored all attempts at communication. I was certain that I was going to die, that he was going to mutilate and kill me—it was only a matter of how. I imagined him swinging the crowbar, striking me in the head over and over, splitting my skull open and reducing the brain therein to pulp.  Earlier, I’d seen him use the crowbar to pry open a long wooden box, and from its bottom had come skulls and other ossuary fragments. But he’d ignored them, tossing aside the cracked and dust-coated human artifacts to withdraw a crinkled piece of paper. He had studied it for a few moments, then folded it and pocketed it; spending the subsequent moments muttering insensibly to himself in a language that to me had sounded vaguely “European”, however you’d like to interpret that. He’d later nail the document to a nearby wall of the dome-shaped cave; occasionally consulting it here and there for some unspoken purpose.  His expression still unchanged, still cryptically austere, he placed the crowbar across his lap and put both hands on the knees of his jeans. Like his grey windbreaker, they were faded, obviously old, and had sustained quite a bit of wear and tear. His boots were the only normal things about him: polished, plainly new, and this newness unsettled me. I couldn’t imagine him going out and buying a pair, had never seen him shopping anywhere in town. The box of bones behind him suggested another means of acquisition… The crowbar in his lap was within reach, and I considered prying my hand from the arm of my chair and reaching out for it. I’d have to sacrificed the hand, but figured I’d be able to hold onto the crowbar tight enough and for long enough to strike him at least a few times. He’d broken my right hand, but had only nailed the left one to its arm rest; and the nail, while long and worryingly rusted, was fairly thin, and embedded just between my pointer and middle finger—in the thin, easily torn spread of connective flesh. I wanted to do it, it wouldn’t have taken much effort to free the hand—no doubt at the cost of a tremendous amount of pain—but his almost stoic immobility held within it a level of intimidation that was so overwhelmingly disheartening. I feared what would happen if I interrupted his already unsettling dormancy. Finally, no longer able to bear the hope-promising light from above, I turned away from the wispy motes of dust to look at him full-on. Immediately, I cringed, seeing those two spheres of depthless darkness, windows into a mind so terribly deranged that not an iota or inkling of humanity existed therein.  It wasn’t hatred or any conception of sentient evil behind them, but a feral, primal malevolence. I wasn’t looking at a person who was simply sick in the head, who’d once been sane or *had* held some approximation of sanity. No, this was an inhuman being, an anthropologically unclassifiable entity who had never once held any kinship with Man—civilized or otherwise.  I got the impression that a shadow-wreathed shell sat before me, a warped vessel masquerading as a being of substance; a “man” who’d been born without a soul, or a soul that had, through some cosmic mischance, been blackened during its attachment to the body.  I started to feel lightheaded, sick to my stomach, but couldn’t look away. There was a gravity to his gaze, a mind-draining magnetism that kept my eyes locked with his own, even as my brain sent signal after signal to turn them away. The light falling from the hole in the cave’s ceiling appeared to suddenly grow dim, and the darkness began to flicker and solidify, like shadows come to life.  The coffin-like box of bones, now barely visible in my haze, seemed to expand behind the fiendish lunatic; growing to impossible proportions. The bones visible within also appeared to morbidly increase in size, and I began to cry as a great colossal skull loomed over me, a sepulchral leer upon its chipped and broken face.   *He’s poisoning me with his mind, filling me with his evil sickness!* I thought to myself, struggling to turn my eyes somewhere, anywhere but there. As lucidity continued to wane, I found myself wondering when, if ever, my corpse would be discovered. The Titan’s skull had stopped growing, and as I regarded it, I noticed the agedness of it; the cracks, craters, and time-yellowed surface suggestive of decades—if not centuries—of charnel decay.  Despair awoke in me as I realized that no one had found these remains—that I would probably join those poor unsaved souls in that damned box. Playthings of a nightmare.  It wasn’t until the terrible hallucinations became overwhelming, suffocating, that he spoke. His voice was oddly light, soft - in total contradiction to his brutish stature and odious appearance. By degrees, with each liltingly spoken syllable, the otherworldly images faded, making way for a new and very real picture of horror.  “I want you to watch me—as they’ve watched me. I want you to witness my rebirth. If you can stand it, if you can take it, I’ll teach you how do it.”  Obviously, I had no idea what he was talking about, but the grave tone with which he had spoken those ominous words only served to chill me to my core, and further diminish my already depleted hope of survival.  Without waiting for any response, he picked up the crowbar, raising it above himself and out of my reach. I thought then that he’d bring it down onto my skull, that he’d bludgeon me to death. That his wish for me to behold his rebirth was more metaphorical, than literal. *How can a corpse witness anything?* But he instead smashed the tool onto his own bare scalp. Once. Twice. Again and again and again, until there was a clear dent in his skull; the skin sunken and fractured, forming a bloody valley that ran down to the forehead.  He teetered in his chair, the crowbar held suspended in mid-air, and I thought he’d surely topple over. But, with some last vestige of maddened animal strength, he delivered one final blow to himself, and the roof of his skull collapsed, just as the roof of the cave had—some decades ago. The deranged man then slumped forward, leaning lifelessly toward me, a deluge of eerily dark blood coursing from his self-inflicted wound.   The crowbar clattered to the floor when the arm that had been holding it finally fell. But the lethally repurposed tool was out of my reach, coming to lie on the ground a few feet away. While I was safe for the moment, I knew that I had to relieve myself of the chair before infection set in—if it hadn’t already. Both of my hands burned from within, and I’d been sweating feverishly for quite some time—despite the pervasive chill in the air. Starvation and dehydration were also pressing concerns; I hadn’t eaten or drank anything in at least 48 hours—having been imprisoned within the cave for several cycles of night and day, as determined through the ceiling’s hole.  Thankfully, the chair was simply constructed, having only a wooden frame held together by unsecured nails; it was crude, makeshift carpentry. With the need no longer as dire, I refrained from ripping the flesh between my fingers to free my nail-trapped hand, instead preferring to just break the whole chair.  After wobbling back and forth several times, I managed to rock myself onto the ground. The left armrest broke, and with my newly freed hand I undid the leather straps that had secured my feet to the chair’s legs.  Thus freed, I hobbled over toward the opposite end, past the opened box of bones, toward the wall where he had nailed the piece of paper. The exit—a waist-high, moss-shielded tunnel in the left wall—wasn't far off, but curiosity compelled me to investigate the piece of paper.  I’m glad I took the time to look at it, because doing so probably saved my life.  On the piece of paper was a diagram of a man, in what appeared to be three phases of existence. The first, a normal, seemingly healthy image. The second, a somewhat emaciated figure, long-limbed and sickly. The third, a cadaverous form, ghoulish in the face and fleshless in body; with hands like gnarled branches from which extended savagely long nails.  Beneath each figure was a short note. The first image bore the description, “Man in his most basic.” The second: “Man undergoing the wondrous transition.” The final: “Man - Transcended. Reborn.”  At the word reborn my attention was drawn toward the corpse in the chair—or what should’ve been a corpse. Instead, there was an animate *thing*, tremoring and shuddering as if galvanized by an electric current. One of the arms—the one that had wielded the crowbar—spasmed, and I watched, horror-stricken, as black, knife-edged nails began to grow from the spasmodically clenching hand.  Acting on an impetus that I can only describe as an instinct to natural duty, I quickly made my way to the horrific scene. Keeping my gaze averted, I snatched up the crowbar and drove its rusted handle into the heaving, now fleshless chest of that morphing fiend.  There a sudden glottal shriek, a few moments of bodily convulsing, and then the thing went as stiff as a statue. But somehow, I sensed a lingering life within it, an aura or emanation of some sinister, preternatural essence. I had “killed” it, but it had not necessarily died. Without letting my eyes turn toward his assuredly monstrous visage, I hurried past it and exited the cave. 

DO NOT DOWNLOAD THE MOD "MEMORIES".

y53r1v

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y53r1v/do_not_download_the_mod_memories/

I've held this story to myself for weeks, Maybe even a few months....I don't know why I need to share this story. Possibly to feel less insane, possibly to have people lie to me and tell me that what occurred didn't occur. However, I know that this will not work...I know what I saw, I know what I've experienced....I'm going to be scarred for the rest of my life. All because I downloaded a mod.... ​ It was march 18th 2022....I finally managed to purchase elden ring after saving up for some time. I mean after playing the other games developed by FromSoftware Inc. It was only mandatory that I get their latest creation. I spent so many hours beating the main game, even the side quests and optional bosses. I'll admit, it was a lot of fun to play, and I found myself just like any other gamer after getting a cool new game, checking out mods. I find myself enjoying the cursed mods people create for nothing more than fun. Elden ring was no different for me. I spend time searching google, discovering some cool new mods to play, even watching youtube videos on mods others would recommend. I scrolled for hours and played so many cool mods. It was fun, until one day....I found a video on my recommendation list and saw a video titled: "DO NOT PLAY THE MOD "MEMORIES ." This strange title piqued my curiosity...if only I could've stopped myself. I clicked on the video, thinking this was nothing more than a creepypasta or some ARG someone was making for fun. The video began with a man sitting in a chair....he looked stressed, weak, as if he hadn't slept in days. His voice sounded no better..he sounded as if he was paranoid. As if he was being watched. "Listen, whoever you are watching this, I found this mod for Elden ring...and i-it's not what I thought it was. Not in the slightest. This thing is a curse, and it's after me. THEY'RE AFTER ME. I need to get away from them. I have barely any time left....so I'll use my final moments to warn you all....Listen, whatever you do. DO NOT DOWNLOAD THE MOD TITLED "MEMORIES". The video ended, leaving an unsatisfied me questioning the logistics of his words. I immediately went searching for this so-called 'cursed' mod, Surprisingly it was rather simple to find. Being a total daredevil, I downloaded it to my Playstation 4, I then opened my game. I was met with a warning on the main menu: *"The Mod you downloaded is UNSTABLE. Are you sure you want to continue?"* I clicked yes. "*By clicking yes you acknowledge that the developer will hold no accountability any trauma sustained. That includes mental, emotional, and* ***physical trauma?"*** Once again, I clicked yes whilst admiring the detail the mod developer added just to creep me out. I know what you all are thinking: "Those warnings were a big enough red flag. You should've just quit whilst you were ahead." I know, but I was more curious than concerned, so I continued. I customized my character and spawned in the gatefront ruins to begin the run. I ran through the area with a weapon at the ready until I noticed something strange. I was running past enemies, like literally running PAST them. They didn't seem to care that I was intruding. They just stared at my avatar. Cold, blank, lifeless stares. That sent a shiver up my spine, but it wasn't enough to get me to stop. It was that moment when alarms should've gone off in my head, and if they did...I didn't hear them. I was too intrigued and curious to see more. Whereas the various blank stares were creepy, the voices that followed minutes after were much, much worse. As I walked through the cobblestone streets, I heard the enemies and the Npcs speaking, even though I didn't interact with them. Their voices sounded hushed and secretive, as if they all were hiding something. I could barely make out what was being said, but I made out a few words: "Do you remember 1999? The cable came around her neck. She's dead. She died alone...." I didn't understand what any of that meant. It was now that I started growing concerned, but I was too infatuated with what I was hearing and what I was seeing...I had to find out more. If the Npcs are this tweaked...what did this developer do to the bosses? I made my way to the first boss..Margit. I was excited to see how the cutscene was changed. As I made my way down the corridor leading to the boss fight, I noticed the feeling of dread looming over me. The entire area felt off...as if I was going to see something I wasn't supposed to. I couldn't ignore this feeling like the other times either. Regardless, I wanted to see more. I entered the boss arena at the entry of Stormveil castle, and the feeling of dread increased as the cutscene began. Margit's lines of dialogue were kept the same, until he jumped down in front of my avatar. As he lifted his cane to prepare for the battle, the line he said, made my blood freeze: "It was an accident." I wasn't what he said...rather how he said it. He sounded so, distraught. As if he lost the will to live. Then the boss fight started, Margit doesn't do his usual approach, walking slowly towards the player. In fact, he charged at me very quickly, I had no time to react. I managed to move out of his path, and he missed. What happened next, scarred me for life. Margit turns around, now bearing a large, sadistic grin on his face along with a crimson red eyeball, staring right into ME. He wasn't staring at my avatar....***he was looking at ME***. As if he was possessed. He started giggling. He started walking near me. His face told me enough about what he intended to do if he were to get his hands on me. So I refused to go near him, I was even too scared to hit him with the sword I had. The entire time, I was utterly terrified, albeit impressed as to how the developer of this mod added so much detail to this mod. Instead of attacking me, however. Margit stops and stares at me. Then he walks off of the edge of the cliff, even though that's against his programming. He falls down to the bottom, and I was left a little disappointed by this climax. I was thinking to myself "That's it? A little scare and then the boss kills himself? What a downer." I decided to just walk through the gate and enter Stormveil Castle, as I inch closer to the gate, the feeling of dread returns, even worse this time. I tried to continue to the gate but my avatar stopped and looked up to the sky above. Margit fell only being caught by a rope around his neck. He was screaming in terror, begging for help as he scratched as his neck, he was panicking, struggling to remove the rope from his neck. I heard him choking and even saw him coughing up blood. I couldn't just leave him there, something in my being told me to help. I attempted to but to no avail, I couldn't reach him. Margit's seemingly eternal suffering ended as I heard a sickening snapping sound as Margit fell limp, and then fell on the ground. He was dead. I was frozen stiff. I approached his body, his face was frozen in terror and his neck and mouth were covered in blood. I was terrified, but it was just a game. As I stared at Margit's corpse, His body glitched...and I saw the silhouette of a young girl. She looked up at me...and smiled whilst giggling in Margit's voice. She glitched back to a stiff and dead Margit. Seeing that girl's face, looking at me with those hungry eyes, as if she wanted to pull me through the screen... That caused something to snap in me...I realized enough was enough. I decided to turn the game off, only to realize...it wasn't allowing me to. Every time I tried to close the application the game would say "Too late..." I decided to try turning off the game system. No dice. I tried turning off the TV. Nope. I started to panic, not paying attention to the dead Margit getting up on his feet. He stared at me again, this time walking towards the screen completely ignoring my avatar standing there. He walked so close to the screen I could see his face in all of its morbid detail. The blood from his mouth is still sitting there. His eyes now rolled backwards. He started to speak, this time his voice sounding more distorted than before, as if someone else was talking through him: " It's good to see that fool's lies didn't work. He wanted to keep me from making my family larger...It's alright...You'll be a great addition, just walk up to the screen....don't be afraid." Before I could react, Margit started to come out of the TV...He pushed his face against the screen and tried to get into my home. That caused me to panic even more, fearing for my life I grabbed a bat I had in the corner of my room and smashed the TV to pieces. the face of Margit retreated into the black screen and I thought it was over..... I thought that whatever THAT was would leave me alone. I even wanted to deny that whatever I saw was real, but I couldn't. It's been three weeks since that even occurred, and I can't smother the feeling that I'm being watched. I had nightmares every time I went to sleep, causing me to sleep less.I continue to see the shadow of a noose looming in every dark area I go to. I'm exhausted. This would've never happened if I had just heeded the Youtuber's warning. The latest nightmare I had gave me a message: "stop resisting and join the rest of them." I think this is a sign, I can't run away forever...I'm going to be a part of this 'family' whether I want to or not....I don't have much time left. So I'm going to warn whoever reads this... If you see me on the papers and it says i'm missing...I'm dead. So don't even try searching for me... And whatever you do, Never download the mod titled "Memories" whilst playing Elden ring, or you'll end up dead like us...

My roommate is weird. Really weird. I’m not sure how to kick him out.

y57w9a

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y57w9a/my_roommate_is_weird_really_weird_im_not_sure_how/

Okay, so I’m gonna try to make this quick. He’s coming back soon. I’m not really sure where we went wrong. Well, I should start at the beginning, I guess. So, a few months back I moved out of my parents place. I didn’t have a lot of money saved up, so I could really only get a place in the worst part of town. This building seemed like the safest place in the part of town I had to move to, and I refuse to go back to my parents. Everything was fine, except the rent was pretty high. I put out an ad for a roommate on all the places I could think of, and I finally got a hit on Craigslist. That really should’ve been red flag number one, now that I think of it. He seemed like an alright dude. His name was Jackson, and there was about two years of age difference between us. Him being 25 and me being 23. I know, I know, I should’ve moved out a long time ago. That’s another story. But, everything was okay for a few months like I mentioned before. He would come home late in the day, sometimes at night, and he’d leave early in the morning. I personally would not want that job. Anyways. He seemed to have the weekends off, so it was an okay situation, at least he never complained about it. So, on the weekends we would go and get something to eat, hang out at places, or just eat at home. This is where my problems started with him. For some unknown reason, he never picked up after himself. He’d leave his trash by the front door never taking it out, to the point that whatever in the bag would start to rot. I really don’t know why I never checked the bags. I should have checked the bags. He’d leave his dishes in the sink, and whenever I washed them, the water would turn a murky brown color. These were all only knives and sharp objects. Why didn’t I notice that before? Anyways, I refused to wash them because it was just disgusting, and he should be able to clean up after himself. Whenever I brought it up to him, he’d get angry, and storm into his room, muttering something about “getting caught”, and ”police”. I just brushed it off like he was crazy, which he probably is, in hindsight. This made me afraid to bring it up to him. I was still fine with him being in the apartment, after all, he was on the lease. I didn’t really have a choice BUT to be okay with it. Another weird thing. He never wanted to watch the news. If we were watching TV and the news came on, he would either turn the TV off or change the channel. When he isn’t around, I look up the stories for that day. Stuff about murder. Maybe he’s got PTSD and that stuff triggers him? I don’t know. It definitely doesn’t sit right with me though. Maybe I’m overreacting. I’m not really sure what to make of this situation. When we go out in public, he’s always wearing a mask and sunglasses, as if he’s afraid to be seen. He never wants to go places with a lot of people. He would rather stay at home. I’m a homebody to an extent, but even I like to go out sometimes. I really don’t get it, i just don’t. It’s like he’s a murderer or something, lol. I doubt that’s the case, I would’ve noticed. Or would I have? Thinking back on it, maybe he is. I mean, it all lines up. I’m probably just overreacting though. Right? Yeah. I’m overreacting. I just can’t get over the thought. I don’t know what to do. Another thing that’s weird- he spends hours in the basement of the apartment complex. I’ve asked the owner of the building if he’s okay with this, and he seems to have no problems. He seemed nervous when I asked though. He said that he heard some commotion in the alleyway by the apartment, and when he went to check it out, he saw my roommate hurting someone. He said he got away without my roommate seeing him, but he’s still scared that my roommate saw him. He then asked my landlord for the keys to the basement. Not wanting to get hurt, he gave them to my roommate. I wanted to investigate but I don’t want to risk it. What if I get caught? Or what if because of my paranoia, an innocent person dies in the basement? I would rather just not attempt it. I don’t know what to do. I’m scared that he’ll find this. I want to kick him out but the manager of the apartments seems scared of him, and by what he said, for good reason. I think I should be too. I just don’t know what to do. I’m scared that he’ll see this post. I’m afraid that he’s going to do something bad. Should I go to the police about this? What if they find something, or worse, they don’t, and I’m just crazy, and the one that falsely accused his roommate of murder. What happens then? I don’t know what to do. I’ve been watching the news closely for a story about a murderer, but nothing. I think I’m going to confront him. If I don’t update, I’m dead. I really hope I'm just paranoid. Oh god, he’s here. He’s unlocking the door to the apartment. I have to go. These may well be my last words. If they are, I love you mom. I’m sorry I was such a bad son. I love you. Goodbye, hopefully not forever.

I'm an actor. I recently had the strangest audition of my life

y4upi4

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y4upi4/im_an_actor_i_recently_had_the_strangest_audition/

I entered the apartment, doing my best to hide my shock. I had never been in an Upper East Side penthouse before, and this was most certainly not what I had expected. The floor was covered in piles of trash, everything from old takeout containers to tattered books to half-melted plastic dolls. Besides the trash, the room was nearly empty except for a glass coffee table, upon which sat what looked like an ostrich egg painted gold, and a purple loveseat, nearly all of which was taken up by the fattest man I had ever seen. I navigated slowly to him, stepping over dozens of dead and dying cockroaches, trying to ignore the overpowering stench of rot. ”It is an honor to meet you, Mr. Feurstein,” I said. “Please, call me Horace. Have a seat.” He brushed a bunch of playbills and newspapers off the cushion next to him. I squeezed in next to him, wondering what had happened to the once-renowned impresario, the producer who was behind some of the highest-grossing musicals in Broadway history. He had never been an attractive man, had always been overweight, with a face misshapen and deeply pitted from acne scars. But this was an entirely different beast next to me. Only about 5’8, he had ballooned to over 350 pounds. He appeared sickly, his face sallow, his stomach, which stuck out under his filthy shirt, was covered in a scabrous rash. “Some food's going to be delivered soon,” he said. “Ten orders of crab rangoon, 5 orders of fried dumplings, and three orders of boneless spareribs. Feel free to have some. You’re a top; you don’t have to watch what you eat. And don’t worry about me, I won’t eat until we are done. I’ve made sure I’m clean.” “Thanks,” I said. I doubted that Horace had showered within the last month. This was not going to be a fun evening. “Sorry for the mess,” he continued. He leaned in closer to me, his blubber rubbing up against my body, and put a sweaty arm over my shoulder. “I’m arthritic, and since my wife left me, there’s no one to help me out.” “It’s fine.” He laughed. “I saw that look you gave me when I mentioned my wife. I know what you’re thinking. She didn’t leave me because she found out what I did with guys like you. She knew. Sometimes she even joined in. She left because she didn’t want me to produce any more shows. Said it was a waste of money. That was all she cared about: my money. I truly thought she loved me. That was in early 2020. Right before everything shut down. Before, I could always go into a theater, and when the orchestra began the overture and the lights dimmed, be transported to a world far away, where my problems were non existent. But not anymore. I thought of throwing myself out of these windows hundreds of times.” “I’m sorry,” I said, not knowing what else to say. “It’s OK. It all led me here to this. This show, which could not happen without you, would not have happened without all that. This is going to be the biggest show of my career.” I had my doubts about that, but just nodded. Horace had not produced a hit in almost 20 years. His recent shows, experimental plays, each one more incomprehensible than the last, were not received well by either audiences or critics and never ran for more than a few months. But none of that mattered to me. I just wanted a Broadway credit to my name. “Let’s get down to business,” Horace said. “First, you know what I want from you in exchange for a role.” I nodded. Wasn’t looking forward to it, but it was what it was. “Great! Last week, I had another young guy who had no idea what I wanted. Conversation got super awkward. First thing’s first—payment. You are an Equity member, correct?” “Yeah, got my card last year.” “Then I’m required to pay you a minimum of $2,200/week. Unfortunately, I am not able to pay more than the union minimum, at least for now, but that is a pretty good rate for someone who only says one word in the entire show. Your contract is for 6 weeks, but if the show does well, and it will, that will be possibly extended. There’s no set closing date, and I expect it to go on for years. What do you say?” “That’s amazing,” I said. “Truly is. Can’t thank you enough, I’ve dreamed of being on Broadway since I was a kid.” “Easiest negotiation ever,” he said, laughing. “Now on to the play. I travelled to France in 2019. Brought back a lot of curious artifacts. Like that dragon egg on the coffee table.” I laughed and he glared at me sternly. “That was not a joke. It is a genuine dragon egg, brought to Europe by a German expedition to Antarctica in the 1920s. Only a few known in existence. Before the last ice age, before the continents drifted, dragons were the lords of the skies, the firmament was their fiefdom” “I see,” I said. Either this guy was playing a practical joke on me, or he was crazy. I suspected the latter. “Brought a few other trinkets back.” He reached to the coffee table and picked up a large white fang. “This is from the Beast of Gévaudan, a werewolf that slaughtered hundreds of peasants in Southern France in the 1760s. And this,” he said, digging under some rubbish to retrieve an old book with a tan cover devoid of any title or decoration, “you will learn the meaning of shortly. “However, the most valuable thing I brought back was a copy of the most extraordinary play. After reading the first scene I knew this was the work of a genius. I reached out and found that it had never been produced and the rights were available quite cheaply. I spent the last two years translating it, tweaking it, perfecting it. It is about an elderly charman, who is on trial, but no one—not the judge, not the jurors, not the attorneys, not the witnesses, not even the charman himself—knows what the crime is. Takes Kafka to a whole new level. A manciple will testify about the affairs of a monastery in the Carpathians, a donkey will testify to the price of wheat in the Ukraine, a—“ “Sorry to interrupt, but an actual donkey?” “A donkey like Balaam’s. Isn’t it genius?” “Most definitely!” I said, feigning excited. This play was going to be another of Horace’s flops. I would be surprised if it stayed open for a month. “And the most genius part of it is the ending,” continued Horace. “Do you know what your one line is?” “Nope,” I said, shaking my head. “So close. The ending is something of my own invention. Usually, the original is far superior to the translation. But not for this play. The playwright’s genius did not lay in his trochees and iambs. He was not a poet, but a philosopher. His genius laid in his ideas, and I truly believe it was my destiny to find the manuscript, for only I could improve it. This will represent not just the pinnacle of my career, but the apotheosis of theatre itself. No work that was ever produced, or ever will be produced, can hold a candle to it. Back to the ending. In the original French, the defendant is tried by a panel of three judges. But I changed that to a jury of 12 men. You are juror number 7. The poor charman is found guilty, and the judge is polling the jurors. Asking if the verdict they rendered is correct. The first 6 jurors say yes, but you, you my dear friend, say no. And then the lights go out. ” “Wow!” I said, trying to muster up enthusiasm. “Can’t wait to read it.” “I must warn you that there are verses of untranslated French. It used to be that a theatre-goer could understand them, but, alas, times have changed. Anyways, enough about the show for now. Let’s have some fun. Can you take off your shirt please.” I was not going to have fun, but I took off my shirt. He gasped. “May I touch?” I nodded, trying not to recoil as he ran his grimy hands over my chest, as he kneaded my shoulders with his filthy fingers, as he scratched my abs with his overgrown, yellow fingernails. “How rare. A 7-pack. Seven, the number of completion. Four segments on the right, three on the left.” “Yeah it’s just a quirk of genetics,” I said. “Nothing to do with my muscle composition. I’m like 7.5% body fat.” “Was that obtained naturally?” “Yeah, I’m natty. Don’t want to look like one of those overgrown, muscle-bound, roid-raging meat heads. That look’s disgusting.” My body was not natural. Natural attainable, yes, but not natural. Neither was anyone else’s in the industry. I did what I had to do to compete. “I do not think I have ever seen a 7-pack before, how rare.” “Well, you will soon see something that’s an 8,” I said, trying to do my best to flirt with this grotesque creature. “8.5 to be precise. And thick.” Horace laughed. “That’s what they all say. Then it turns out to be a 5 or a 6. They even got fake rulers they sell. Don’t know why anyone would fool a poor old man like that.” “Well, I guarantee you mine is legit.” “We will see about that. But first you’re going to be the one using your mouth.” “Wait…what? I thought—” “Not like that,” he said, smiling. “Why do you think I reached out to your agent?” “I have a pretty good idea.” Hate to burst your bubble, but you aren’t the only twink with a nice body and face in this city. There are hundreds who are carbon copies of you.” “A twink? I’m 6’3, 220. I think that falls into twunk territory.” “Twink, twunk, otter, I have trouble keeping all the labels straight. But what attracted me, in addition to your pictures, and believe me, I saw them all, even subscribed to your OF, is your birthdate. 9/9/1999. Do you know what that means?” “Uh…I’m a Virgo?” He glared at me again. “You don’t understand and I’m not going to try to explain it to you. It takes a very high degree of intelligence to understand all of it. I’ll just say only someone like you can do what I require.” He picked up the tan book from the coffee table. “The skin of the last witch executed in France, the Breton Marie Feval, was used to bind this tome. Her followers drained her blood for use as ink, gathered her bones to boil to glue. Her power is imbued in every page. Look closely at the front cover, and you can see an outline of her face.” I looked closely, thinking the old man was imagining things, but I could make out the faint outline of a scowling old crone. Doubted it was legitimate though, probably painted on there by a bookseller to fool a gullible old man. He opened the book about halfway and pointed to a block of text. “Can you read this for me, please.” I looked. Illustrated on the page was the elongated figure of a woman, wearing a long black robe and a black witch’s hat, her face pearl white, juggling seven ivory balls in front of a desolate desert landscape, empty except for a round tower far off in the distance. Above her, in dark red, was written five lines of text in a language I could not identify. It was definitely not French. “Uh, it’s not in English.” “I know it’s not English,” he snapped. “I’m not an idiot. It’s in Breton, a Celtic language. I’m just asking you to read it, not translate it.” “Oh, sorry,” I said. I did my best to read it. “That will do,” he said. “You just ensured the play’s success. Now let’s have some fun.” I hesitated. I did not think I could get with this repulsive man, no matter how much he was paying me. “Look,” he said. “Most actors would die for this chance to perform on the Great White Way. You don’t know how much a Broadway credit will help your future career. It will ensure you will have no problem getting an audition. It’s a springboard to bigger roles.” “I appreciate that. I’m sorry, but I’m not sure I can—” “I have something that will help you perform back in my bathroom. I know I disgust you. I don’t blame you. I disgust myself. Have since I was a child. I didn’t grow up in the city. Was born in Erie, Pennsylvania. Working class, blue collar town, very Catholic. Not a nice place for someone like me. Got beat up at school and beat up at home. Ran away at 16 and ended up here. It was a gritty back then, like cities should be, not sanitized like today. Times Square, you can’t even imagine what it was like. “I was 110 pounds back then, can you believe it? The scrawniest kid you’d ever seen. No matter how much I ate, I could never put on weight. Thought I’d make it big. But nope. I was short, had no muscle and an ugly face. Guys like you had modeling contracts, got roles even though they couldn’t act. When they were partying on Fire Island, I was begging on the streets. After a few months, I met an older gentleman, a historian of the theater at NYU, who recognized what I lacked in looks I made up for in intellect. He took me in, and I helped him with his research. Sadly, after a few years, he died.” He glowered at me. “Do you know how he died, young man?” I shook my head. “How do you think he died, you blooming idiot? Those were the days when a silent specter haunted the city, The Sword of Damocles dangled over your neck. No one knew where it came from, no one knew what caused it, and no one knew who would be next. Can you imagine?” “I can’t. I can’t begin to—” “Damn well you can’t. You’re just a moron, that’s what you are. You young men have no respect for your elders. You have things like ‘no fats, no one over 30’ in your profiles. We endured horror beyond your comprehension. We fought for your rights. Without us, you’d be nothing. The least you could give us is a little gratitude. The least…” I heard a cracking sound coming from somewhere. I hoped the floor wasn’t going to collapse from all the weight on it. “…just a little love!” continued Horace, who was yelling hysterically now. “Is that too much to ask? Just a little? My ex-wife. Her name was Juana, she was an actress. From Cuba. Best actress ever. She got me convinced that she loved me. Not for my body, no. I’m smart enough that no one will ever love that. She told me she didn’t care about that, she was in love with my mind. But no. She was in love with my money. But I got the last laugh. I had…” I heard another crack. Between that and the crazy old man, it was time to get out of here, Broadway contract be damned. “I’m sorry, I’m going to leave,” I said, as Horace continued to ramble. Before I could extricate myself, I heard another crack and saw the golden egg split in two. An amorphous red blob crawled out of it, about the size of a baseball. It rolled off the table and disappeared among the trash. “You fool,” Horace shrieked at me. “You pronounced the spell wrong. Look what you have brought into the world.” As I tried to get up, Horace grabbed my waist and attempted to hold me. Despite his immense size, he wasn’t strong. After a few seconds I managed to free myself. I scanned the room. The red blob was gone. I made my way to the door, moving slowly so not to trip. Every few seconds I looked over my shoulder, making sure that neither Horace nor the red blob were after me. They weren’t. When I was about halfway to the door, something sprung from the trash, landing a few feet in front of me. It was no longer the amorphous blob, but human-like in form. But it was no human. About three-feet tall, his skin was scarlet red. Eyes of pure yellow blazed, horns the color of ebony sprouted from his head. Instead of feet, he walked on hooves. It was no dragon’s egg that Horace bought, this was the devil himself or one of his spawn. I threw a right hook to his head. My hand recoiled in pain, most likely broken. It was like I punched a wall. The monster did not seem to notice. I began backing up, the devil following me slowly. He was growing, and by the time our slow dance had reached the couch, he was towering over me. I looked over to Horace. He had either passed out from shock or was playing dead. As I continued backing up towards the large windows, I searched the trash-strewn floor for a weapon. I picked up an old brass lamp. Hefty, probably weighed a good 15 pounds. Ignoring the pain in my right hand, I held it up like a baseball bat, as the demon, the devil, whatever it was, continued its slow approach. When it was a two feet away, I swung at its head. The blow would have felled, if not killed, any man, but the monster stopped only for perhaps half a second before reaching for the lamp, yanking it from my hands and snapping it in two. I continued backing up. No escape, just the windows. A fall from the 70th floor would surely kill me, but that death would be less painful than what the devil had planned for me. But I wasn’t ready to give up. With my back against the window, I stood still as the devil approached me. He was now over ten feet tall, having to stoop to make his way through the room. When he was nearly upon me, I sprang forward, attempting to dive under the reach of his arms. He nimbly bent down and lifted me up with one hand, slamming me up against the windows. His hands shifted to my neck. I attempted to pry them away. I punched, I kicked, I kneed, all to no effect. I felt myself start to feel faint. I was going to die soon. I heard a knock at the door. “Delivery,” a voice cried. I felt the devil’s hands loosen as it turned its neck to glance at the door. Just slightly, but enough for me to scream. The door flew upon. “Help!” I cried, but the deliveryman just turned around and fled. The devil turned his attention back to me, his eyes, his yellow eyes, just inches from mine as he throttled me once more. An idea came to me. If it didn’t work, I was dead. I reached up and jabbed at his bright eyes. Unlike the rest of his body, they were soft. My fingernails weren’t long like Horace’s, but I jabbed with enough force that he squealed out and released his grip. I made a dash for the door, and soon after began hearing footsteps behind me. I didn’t look back, but kept sprinting to the door. I made it as far as the couch. He picked me up, lifted me to the ceiling, and threw me down on the coffee table. The glass shattered. I felt thousands of tiny pricks of pain as the shards embedded themselves in my back. The devil got down on his knees next to me and started to laugh, a demonic, otherworldly laugh. I saw row after row of razor sharp teeth. His mouth opened wider and wider, wide enough to devour me in a single gulp. I tried to roll towards the door, a last-ditch attempt to escape the fate that awaited me, when I noticed something out of the corner of my eye. A curved fang, Horace’s werewolf fang which I had completely forgotten about. I reached towards it and grasped it with my left hand. As the devil bent down, his monstrous maw fully open, I jabbed with it towards his neck. It pierced his hide like a knife through butter. He stumbled backwards, gallons and gallons of black blood spurting from his thick neck. I got up, and slashed his stomach. He doubled over, grasping it, before collapsing on the floor. I walked over to him. He was not dead; I could hear his heart beating rapidly. I raised the fang and brought it down like a sacrificial knife. As the fang pierced his heart, he began to shrink. After a few minutes, he was the size of the red blob that had emerged from the golden egg. He kept getting smaller, the size of a pea, then the size of a grain of sand, until he finally vanished. I looked at Horace, who had revived and was staring at me wide eyed. “After that performance, I think I deserve a few more lines in your masterpiece, don’t you?”

I work for a county Sheriff’s office in Maine - I had to call in the Specialist.

y4rooj

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y4rooj/i_work_for_a_county_sheriffs_office_in_maine_i/

[PREVIOUS](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y21ltl/i_work_for_a_county_sheriffs_office_in_maine_im/) I don’t remember it. I don’t remember getting up, or navigating to the kitchen, and I most definitely do not recall taking a knife from the knife block. What I can recollect however, is my pinky toe bending at a right angle as I slammed it into the edge of the couch hard enough to wake myself up. Pain radiated up my body and the blade I had been holding clattered to the floor narrowly missing my other foot. To say I was confused is an understatement, it took me a few moments to understand where I was and what had happened. You see, I used to sleep walk as a child, but I hadn’t in years. So while I was surprised it wasn’t exactly something that had never happened to me, though, I’ll concede I hadn’t sleep carried around knives before. After picking up the knife I hobbled back to the kitchen, I intended to get a glass of water, put the knife back, and go back to bed. However, as soon as I entered the room I realised that wasn’t going to happen. The area was a disaster zone. Half emptied food containers were strewn across the bench, left overs I had stored carefully were now sitting half eaten out in the air. A carton of milk lay on it’s side, the milk flooded over the countertop and had puddled on the floor, splattering the entirety of the cupboards below as it did. Sleepy and annoyed I was in no way prepared to deal with this mess, but it wasn’t something I could just leave until morning. I set about cleaning up as I cursed myself. Of course I couldn’t remember making the calamity that was before me, but I supposed I was hungry and the sleep walking was a result of that. I was probably lucky I didn’t chop my fingers off while trying to make a snack. By the time I got things back in order I decided there was no point in trying to go back to sleep. Since I had the day off I planned to make the most of it, get some chores out the way, go shopping, maybe get a meal at the diner. The pin prick on my hand from the charm was bothering me slightly. Overnight it had become swollen and itchy. I thought it must have become infected or that the poison in the thorns was lingering, so I agreed with myself that the infirmary would be my first stop. I sat in the waiting room at the doctors surgery for what felt like an eternity. I found myself falling into a kind of trance as I listened to the hum of the office fish tank, the gentle bubbling of the air stone was strangely irritating. The overhead lights seemed too bright and the sound of other people in the waiting room merely breathing was too loud. An uncomfortable anger was starting to burn in my veins then a strange idea came to me. It manifested as a suggestion that passed through my mind as if someone had whispered it in my ear.. *Shoot everyone*. The words were crystal clear. It felt like someone poured a bucket of ice water over me and I heard myself take a sharp breath in. The notion horrified me, I had no idea where that kind of violent thought came from. Of course I carry a weapon for work, but I had never found it necessary to fire it at another ***human*** person before, let alone ever thought about shooting up a room full of innocent people. I cannot express the relief I felt knowing I wasn’t carrying on my day off. When my name was called it was as if a bubble burst and I realised I had been staring at the floor for some time. “Sorry, that’s me.” I apologised, they must’ve called me more than once, I just hadn’t heard. “It’s quite alright, what can I do for you today?” The doctor asked as we sat in his office. He was a well built man, taller than I with ginger hair and light eyes. I read on his name tag that his name was Dr. Sean Dempsey. “Well.. I think this might be infected.” I answered, offering him my hand so that he could see the puffy reddened mark. “Alright, let’s have a look.” He mused, taking my hand and examining it, “Does it hurt or itch? Can you close your hand?” In response to his question I opened and closed my hand, “I can, but it does hurt a little bit, and it is itchy.” I agreed. “It’s quite strange, it almost looks like you’ve been stamped or something. How did it happen?” “Stamped?” I asked dumbly, looking at it more closely. I hadn’t really looked at it that much, but I realised he was correct, it looked like I had hit something hard enough that it left the imprint of an object on my skin. Though what kind of object makes a seven pointed star shape on skin I’m not sure, “I picked up a thing wrapped in thorns.” I went on to explain. “What kind of thorns?” He asked raising an eye brow. “I don’t know.. Pointy ones?” I struggled. “Right. And how do you feel? Any fatigue, nausea, muscle weakness?” Dr. Dempsey quizzed me further though I could tell he was less than satisfied with my answer. “I’m a bit tired, but that’s just because I didn’t sleep well last night. But otherwise I’m fine. Some joint soreness, though that’s just from work.” I said tranquilly. “What do you do for work?” he inquired. “I work at the Sheriff’s Station, sometimes out at the ranger station too.” I answered honestly, I couldn’t see why that mattered but I noticed the Doctor hesitate slightly. “And you say it was an object wrapped in thorns that started this?” He asked to clarify. “Yeah, I was taking down some halloween decorations in the woods, just stuff kids put up.” I explained vaguely. “I see. There are a lot of unsavoury plants out there. I’m going to write you a prescription for some light antibiotics. Take them once a day with food. You’ll be fine.” He assured, turning in his chair to start scribbling on the paper. I couldn’t help but feel unnerved that he felt the need to tell me that I would ‘be fine’. I wasn’t previously worried that I wouldn’t be. Leaving the doctors office I picked up my new drugs and made my way to the local diner. Millie’s Diner was situated on the corner between the road and the park at the end of the Main Street. It has a window that opens to the street for passers by, booth style seating inside and extra tables on the sidewalk for outdoor seating. It’s usually busy and you can always smell the baked goods even before you cross the street. I chose to sit inside in one of the booths and looked over the menu. Truth be told I was a regular and almost always ordered the same thing: a coffee with one sugar, a juicy steak with eggs, mash and a side of toast, which I was rather looking forward to. “Charles, are you pretending to read the menu again?” I was called out almost immediately as the waitress came over to me. She was carrying with her the days paper and a mug of coffee. Her name was Jessica, she had been the year above me in high school and when she smiled her cheeks held small dimples. Her hair was a wavy dark brown, long, and tied into a high pony tail as it always was when she worked. Her eyes were a deep brown and she was wearing a white apron with a strawberry patten on it. That wasn’t part of the cafe uniform, but I suppose when your father is the owner, you can wear what you like. “That obvious?” I asked embarrassed with a sheepish smile. “The usual then?” Jess asked returning the smile warmly as she set down the coffee and paper for me. I realised then that she must’ve anticipated and made it the minute I walked in. She also didn’t have to bring the paper, but she knew I liked to read it so she often brought it over for me. “That would be great, thanks.” I agreed, I could feel my ears turning flush, I had no way to thank her enough for the kindness. “Coming right up!” She assured turning on her heels to leave. I watched her go and lamented on the fact that I hadn’t been brave enough to speak to her in high school before turning my attention to the newspaper. I was about a quarter of the way through the first article and deep in thought when someone silently slid into the seat opposite me. I can’t say that I really noticed them at all until they spoke, it was as if they simply appeared in the space before me. “Do you always turn so red when pretty girls speak with you?” I recognised the voice instantly. Eric Linnaeus. I put down the paper to look at him and was surprised to see him in casual dress. He wore a white top under an open wool jacket with a high collar. As always the right hand sleeve was empty with his arm wrapped and slung across his body. Instead of being combed back, his dark hair hung forward covering his right eye. It’s strange to say, but he looked almost angelic without his darkened eye immediately visible and I had never before noticed just how ocean blue his left eye was. He set his cane down beside him and let it rest leaning against the table. “Have you ever considered wearing a cat bell? You know, so you don’t give people heart attacks.” I muttered in return ignoring his question entirely. “If you were paying more attention to your surroundings I wouldn’t have startled you.” He responded smoothly. “I was reading! That’s perfectly reasonable.” I insisted. “If you say so.” He shrugged but I got the feeling he was somehow amused. “What are you doing here?” I grumbled dejected, I noticed then that since he had sat down the mark on my hand begun to ache. Looking him up and down Eric seemed well. Despite his right arm being bandaged, as it always was, it looked okay. The damage from Oklahoma appeared to be healed and he looked healthy. However I couldn’t help but feel somewhat anxious seeing him. I hadn’t gotten around to calling him and I was beginning to realise that part of me was worried. Though about what exactly I couldn’t precisely say. “Your Sheriff called me, and given how much the man hates me, I supposed it was important. He’s worried about you.” Eric said calmly, though I could feel his gaze on me, as if he was analysing my every movement. I shifted uncomfortable in my seat, “I’m fine. Some kids put up Halloween decorations in the woods, Sheriff had me take them down. It’s not a big issue. He gave me the day off today but I’m fine.” I assured. “May I see your hand?” He requested, holding out his left hand for mine. I hesitated a moment, I hadn’t told him that my hand was injured. Subconsciously I had even been directing it away from him, so how did he know? Did the Sheriff tell him? I’m not sure why it bothered me, I didn’t want him to look at it or touch it. A tense moment of silence passed between us before Eric spoke once more. “I’m not going to ask you again.” His voice held no agitation though he articulated the words firmly and I understood that he wasn’t making a request. I swallowed, “Sorry. It’s really fine. I have meds for it.” I tried as I reluctantly offered my limb. Eric didn’t say anything further as he looked over my hand. I’m a little ashamed to say that I thought his hand would be, *inhuman*, in some way or another. Cold or something. But it wasn’t. It was as normal as anyone else’s. He examined the mark for a long moment, it had darkened over the course of the day with the lines of the star-like shape becoming more pronounced. He ran his thumb over it lightly and I winced. A hot pain radiated through my fingertips and up the length of my arm. It hadn’t hurt like that when the Doctor had looked it over and I realised that it was reacting specifically to Eric, as if his touch somehow made the mark angry. “You can breathe Charles.” He reminded me without emotion as he took his hand back from mine. I felt shame in the pit of my stomach. I’m sure he felt my hesitation to touch his hand, “Tell me, what did the cursed object look like?” He asked now. “Cursed object?” I echoed confused. “The ‘Halloween decorations’.” He clarified. “Oh… They were circular, just made of plastic and thread.” I elaborated vaguely. “Charles.” He sighed with a hint of annoyance, he knew I was being deliberately vague. I don’t know why I felt so nervous, this man had risked his life for mine twice and I trusted him. Or at least, I thought I did. “Someone must’ve went the extra mile for their make believe seance, one of the decorations was.. A bit more.. Realistic. Than the rest.” I admitted unwillingly. “I’m going to assume it was this ‘realistic’ one that cut your hand? Did you *see* anything after it tasted your blood? Has anything *unusual* happened since?” I swallowed anxiously. My lips felt dry, the way he said it had ’tasted my blood’ was disturbing. I was about to answer him honestly when the word came to me.. *Lie*. It was clear and compelling, I thought about it a moment longer before I answered, “No..” I murmured weakly, “No I didn’t see anything. Nothing strange has happened, it’s all very normal.” I lied more confidently. Whatever his thoughts Eric’s expression betrayed nothing and I couldn’t tell if he believed me or not. I thought he would answer me when Jess returned to the table. I realised then that he must have seen her coming and decided to wait before saying anything more. She set down my plate and cutlery then turned to Eric with a sorry expression. She was apologising to him, saying how she thought I was dining alone and asking if she could get him something. He declined politely but in truth I couldn’t hear the words properly for another thought entered my mind.. ***Kill Him. Do it now!*** The words were icy, I don’t know where they came from but I felt myself break into a cold sweat. Somewhere in my mind I was aware that I had taken a hold of the steak knife that came with my meal. I was gripping it so tightly that my knuckles had turned white, ***Kill Him***. The suggestion came again more firmly this time and I struggled to ignore it, the compulsion was so strong that I could see how to do it. Stab him with the knife, catch him by surprise… “Charles.” Eric’s voice was low and calm, it broke through whatever spell was over me. Jess had walked away at some point while I was consumed with my thoughts and all of Eric’s attention was now focused on me. I let go of the knife, it clanked loudly off the table to the floor but I made no move to retrieve it. I was trembling with adrenaline and when I looked back up at Eric I could see that he was tense. His hair was now pushed aside slightly and his right eye was locked on me. I felt a chill of fear run down my spine. It was the eye of a predator and he was ready to attack, I was sure this was the way he looked at the things he killed. I thought for one delirious moment that he was somehow able to see my thoughts, that he knew what I was thinking and was ready to end me. He watched me for a long moment before he seemed to relax, “I wasn’t going to hurt you. I’m *Not* going to hurt you. I was only going to stop you if necessary..”. I must have looked afraid because he spoke more softly to me then and smoothed his hair back over his right eye, “However,” he continued, “I do want to know what happened just then. What did you hear?” “I…” I struggled to begin, maybe it was the lack of sleep, or the violence of the thought or the shame I felt, “N-Nothing, I.. I was just.. Day dreaming is all..” I decided not to tell him that I thought to murder him, just in case he changed his mind. “Look at me.” Eric ordered and I reluctantly met his gaze, “I can’t help you if you keep lying to me.” In response to his words I heard the voice clearly in my mind again.. ***He’s going to kill you.*** I felt sick. Panic was bubbling up in my chest, it was hard to breathe, I felt like everyone was staring at me, “I have to go.” I told him quickly and got up to leave. I fled Millie’s without eating and I don’t know if Eric followed or not as I walked hastily to my car. Outside the cool air helped calm my nerves. I hadn’t fully realised until then how warm I felt in the diner, it was like I was burning up from the inside out, they must have had the heaters up too high I rationalised. I drove with no destination in mind and without any specific direction, I just wanted to get away. I rolled the windows down and turned the radio up to drown out my thoughts. It didn’t help much. The mark on my palm burned and the same notion played in my mind repeatedly, ***Kill him kill him KILL HIM!***. It was hysterical, not like it was before. Previously it had been a whisper, a suggestion. Now it was like a toddler throwing a tantrum after their parent had denied them candy. Some part of me knew that it wanted Eric dead because he threatened it. But I also understood that if this voice was now a part of me, and it compelled me to try to kill him.. That he would kill me. I didn’t know what to do, I felt pure dread thinking about it. I had to get rid of the mark and it’s curse on my own. Only I had no idea how to do that. I couldn’t even bring myself to accept what it was or that it was happening to me. After some time the voice began to subside. Honestly I think it just ran out of the energy to keep screaming at me, and I found myself travelling along a seldom used service road in silence. I recognised it because it was the one that travelled along side the park. I’d used it last year to evacuate some hikers when a small brush fire came through. I continued along it until I heard my car make the sad sounds of a vehicle running out of gas, filling it should have been on my list for the day, but I hadn’t expected to drive for so long. I pulled to a stop in the middle of the trail and just sat in my car for a long time. Deciding what to do next was the hardest part. The car wasn’t going to make it back and my cell phone, for the brick that it was at the time, had no reception. The idea that I might be spending the night in the woods didn’t bother me especially. What more was in those woods that could scare me now? Still, I decided that I would go for a walk to try and find some signal. I picked the direction that lead to the nearest hill and set off into the forest making my own path. As it would turn out I was wrong about the forest. It did bother me for it was entirely silent. The foliage varied in density so that sometimes I could walk between the trees freely while other times I had to push my way clumsily through the undergrowth. Before long the daylight began to fade and the woods seemed to come alive. I became certain that there were things following after me. Creatures hidden among the elongated shadows of the trees watching me as I made the decision to return to the car and abandon my mission for signal. However, it was when I turned back that I saw her.. The burned woman, crawling out of the trees toward me on bent limbs and slowly beginning to stand upright. This time I had the good sense to run. She shrieked after me but I didn’t look back. I ran like a track star through those woods, vaulting over logs and ducking under branches. Part of me knew of course that it was pointless. I had no where to go, I was marked and I regretted leaving my gun at home. Not that I truely believed it would have been of any help in this situation. ***Stop***. The command came and I felt my body seize up. A fresh wave of panic consumed me, I understood that now that she was close she could control me more easily and I fought for my autonomy back. I could feel my limbs twisting unnaturally against my will, they bent in ways that my joints weren’t made to bend. It was like someone was reaching inside me and before long I was writhing on the ground in agony. I heard my shoulder dislocate as the entity willed it to happen and I shouted in pain. She was punishing me for running. From my vantage point in the mud I saw her walking over, she was moving slowly and that was somehow worse. Every step she took was disjointed. When she reached me she crouched down and stroked the side of my face with her hand, she opened her mouth as if she was talking and the words came to me, ***Young. Handsome***. Somehow the compliments didn’t hit the mark. The her skin was made of shrivelled back peels, the same as when a heat source is held close to plastic and each layer melts back individually. She smelled of charred flesh. I tried to will my body to move but I had no control left. She then took my marked hand in her hands and pressed it to her face, she seemed pleased in a repulsive way. ***Mine.*** I shuddered involuntarily. Then the worst thing I have ever experienced happened. The burned woman began to pick at the flesh of my hand, she was pulling back strips of the star that had formed and was dribbling black fluid from her mouth into the wound. I could feel her flowing? Into my body through the mark. That’s not accurate.. But I have no better way to describe it. She was infesting my body with her very being. It felt like boiled water was being injected through my veins, the pain was excruciating, it was worse than what I had experienced in Oklahoma. Though, the entire process didn’t take long. As her physical manifestation disappeared I could feel her will being imposed on my body and my own conscious thoughts being suppressed. It was unnatural, unholy, violating in every sense of the word as my limbs moved under her direction. I..? She..? We. Stood, and she forced me to walk forward. I could feel her emotions, she was pleased, ecstatic. I supposed she wanted a whole body again and now she had mine. Our focus landed on a circular arrangement of twigs not to far from us and I heard the sounds of young birds moving nervously in the nest. ***Food.*** We thought and I understood that she wanted to eat. She was going to make us eat those birds alive and I knew it. My unfiltered terror pleased her and I felt my lips pulling themselves into a smile. Thankfully, we didn’t take more than a single step towards those baby birds before I suddenly felt a jolt of malice mixed with nervousness? For a moment I couldn’t think what would make this thing anxious. Then I saw it. Nearing us from the left was a dark shape. Through the witches eyes over my own I could see the form of a human wrapped in a writhing mass of dusky energy. It approached through the darkness and as the figure stepped out of the trees into the clearing with us the moonlight hit him. I realised then that it was Eric. The energy flickered around him like a flame casting off sparks into the night air. It covered him entirely though it was primarily focused around the upper right hand side of his body. I noticed that it was a translucent grey, or maybe a blue turned grey in the darkness, I couldn’t really tell. When he stepped out of the shadow the energy almost seemed to shimmer. It was… Oddly beautiful, and I’m sure my human eyes would never have been able to see it on their own. In addition to the peculiar energy surrounding him Eric’s right eye was also strangely bright. It reflected back at us like a mountain cat’s eye in the shine of a flashlight. He stretched out his inhuman arm and the claws extended. I felt a doubled wave of fear flood through me, it was both mine and the burned woman’s, we knew he was there to kill us. “I’m sorry.” Eric spoke, his gaze rested on us and I felt that he was looking through the witch to speak to me directly. I wanted to answer him, to tell him it was okay. But she disallowed me to speak. I felt the witches energy start to swell, it was like nausea and I could tell we were about to attack him. Before I knew it was happening the witch launched us at him. The magic that leaked out of me from her burned the ground where Eric once stood but he had already moved. He was too fast I thought, remembering his speed every other time I had seen him fight and I experienced the witch’s resentment at that information. That was almost pleasing to me. I knew he would win, I would die and so would this entity inside me. The fight didn’t last long, we were in fact severely out powered. The one time Eric didn’t move aside he caught my arm by the wrist in his right hand and I felt his magic smother the witch’s. His claws cut into my skin without any pressure at all and I felt blood running down my arm. In moments he had us pinned to the ground. I should probably, at this point mention that I’m just over 6ft tall and while Eric is slightly shorter than I am, his weight on my chest was crushing me. I’m sure that he was unnaturally heavy, he’s probably made of stone or something. I closed my eyes and the witch allowed me to do so, I guess, she didn’t want to see us die either. As I waited, I felt his claws at my throat and knew that soon I would be dead.. But that was alright.. I would die without having hurt anyone or eaten any birds because he stopped us from doing so. Then to my shock, Eric spoke, “Leave him.” He commanded, the anger in his voice was vicious. I opened my eyes and was surprised to see his face scrunched into an expression of pure fury. I don’t think I have ever seen anyone look so mad, let alone Eric, who’s emotional range had previously been limited to the slightest hints of amusement. There was a moment of pause from the witch, I felt her confusion, then her understanding as she took the opportunity. Immediately I felt her presence receding from my body, she left the same way she entered through the curse on my palm. I can’t say it was any less painful leaving as she was entering but it was, at least, a relief. I didn’t see where she went after she left my body. However after I felt the last of her existence leave, I expected that Eric would allow me up. But he didn’t. Instead, he stabbed a knife into the sleeve of my shirt, skewering my left arm to the ground and readjusted to hold my right arm down with his left hand on my wrist. “What are you..-” The words died on my lips as I realised. He was restraining me now because he was going to cut off my hand, “No! Eric!” I protested urgently, “Please!”, I know it’s stupid, but I would rather be fully dead than an amputee. I couldn’t imagine living without right hand. “Shut up.” He snapped. I couldn’t really see what he was doing, but I could feel him weaving threads over my hand. Then there was a burning sensation in my palm, not dissimilar to that of when the witch possessed me. Only this time the spread was localised and it felt like he was pulling the nerves out of it. I screamed in agony. When it was done I saw him throw something away. I heard it land with a wet slop on the leaves somewhere in the near distance and I realised tentatively that my hand was in fact still intact, “You’re a f\* cking idiot Charles.” He scolded me. I didn’t know what to say. Without the witches eyes Eric looked quite normal in the moonlight and I saw his expression change from anger to relief. We stared at each other for an awkward moment before we both seemed to realise that he was *still* sitting on top of me, holding me down with his one hand on my chest and the other on my wrist. He looked almost as surprised at this revelation as I did and he let me up. Though I didn’t try to get up immediately, my shoulder wasn’t in any good way and blood poured freely from the injuries to my hand. “I can bandage you, but we need to get you back.” He told me now, he was eyeing off my injuries as well. “Okay.. Just.. Give me a minute..” I agreed. Eric didn’t look pleased, but he seemed to accept my answer as he set about bandaging my wrist and hand. I noticed that the way he held the fingers on his right hand was almost uncomfortable looking. He was making an effort not to touch anything with the claws, I supposed they were sharp enough to cut through fabric and flesh without much pressure. “Not a word, I don’t want to hear a single word.” He said firmly, catching me watching him. I hesitated, “Two words then.. Thank you..” I murmured, I wasn’t going to miss the opportunity again. At this he seemed genuinely embarrassed, “Never say that again.” He warned. “You just saved my life for a third time. I owe you two other thanks as well.” I reminded him. “Maybe next time, just don’t touch cursed objects.” He reprimanded me. “I didn’t know it was cursed. The rest weren’t..” I muttered, I knew I had messed up. I could have hurt someone, I nearly crushed and ate raw baby birds. Eric watched me a moment then he seemed to take pity for he chastised me kind of playfully, “You touched *more* than one? Didn’t you learn your lesson about touching things in Oklahoma?” “You’re kind of a bastard you know that?” I grumbled. “So I’ve been told.” He mused with a slight smile. I hate to admit it, but that actually made me feel better. His teasing was reassuring, it made me feel like he knew what he was doing and that I was going to be alright after this. There was another deliberate moment of silence before I gathered the courage to speak again, “..Can I ask you something?” “Perhaps..” He agreed after a moment “When she, it.. was inside of me, I could see what she saw… “ I began. Eric tensed, “And?” He stated dryly, his emotions returning the carefully maintained facade. I could tell he didn’t want to talk about it. “..There’s an energy around you..” I didn’t quite know how to word what I wanted to ask. “There’s an energy around everything.” He said flatly. “..But yours is.. Well I mean it’s not..” I fumbled, “It’s not really human is it? You’re not really…” I trailed off and Eric turned away from me. He didn’t show any emotion but I got the distinct feeling that I had hurt him in some way. He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly before turning back to me, “You need to get up now. It’s time to go.” He spoke calmly ignoring my question entirely as he offered me his human arm to help me up. “Eric, I don’t mean… What I’m trying to say is.. I know, and it’s okay.” I felt awkward trying to articulate myself as I accepted his help. “Stop talking.” He told me firmly making it clear that he wouldn’t elaborate, “I have more work to do here. The only way to kill a thing like that is if it’s in the body of someone, or to find whoever cast the original curse. The witch is still out there and you need medical attention. We’ve done enough for tonight.” Understanding dawned on me. He had allowed the burned woman to get away in order to spare my life. That meant it was still out there, and it was still dangerous. The Sheriff would *probably* kill me if he knew I was the reason there was still a witch in our woods. [NEXT](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/yavkqf/i_work_for_a_county_sheriffs_office_in_maine_ive/) [Chapters List](https://www.reddit.com/user/xXKikitoXx/comments/xhj9xo/eric_linnaeus_stories_discussion_thread/?sort=new) [.xXx.](https://www.reddit.com/user/xXKikitoXx/comments/vl2ws4/hi_and_welcome_to_my_page/)

I found a pirate ship buried in a forest in Ireland

y4pufq

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y4pufq/i_found_a_pirate_ship_buried_in_a_forest_in/

There is a forest near my home that I love to go walking in. I live in a quite remote area so luckily I never bump into other people because I love my solitude. There aren't any set trails to follow so I just decide randomly on which direction to follow. I was out on one of my daily excursions when my foot caught on something jutting out of the ground and I fell face first into a wet pile of leaves. I lay there cursing my own bad luck as it would take me an hour to get home and my clothes were now drenched. I pushed myself to my feet while cursing my own bad luck. It was then that I noticed the unusual piece of wood that was stuck in the ground. I moved closer for a better look and stood there dumbfounded as it looked like a woman's face had been carved into the wood. I knelt down on the ground beside it while ignoring the mud that sunk beneath my weight. I grabbed onto the end wood and attempted to pull it out but it refused to budge. I marked the location on my phone and resolved to dig it out. Over the next few days I returned with shovels and other pieces of equipment as my obsession intensified. It took me until the second week to realise that what I had found was the prow of a ship. The woman's face was part of the prow that someone had spent a long time intricately carving into the wood. I started spending nearly all of my free time digging, and only leaving to either sleep or get some food. It took me two months to realise there was an entire ship buried in the woods. I sat there in wonder after reaching the hull of the ship, as I couldn't understand how it ended up here. We were miles away from the nearest river and the ocean was an hours drive away. I returned the next morning and was about to start digging when I noticed that hatch that I was convinced hadn't been there yesterday. I cautiously approached it and used my torch to shine inside. The torch barely made a dent as it was sheer darkness inside. My brain screamed at me to stop but I ignored it and climbed inside. I instantly became light headed and I had to grab onto something before I fell over. I waited a minute or two for my body to return to normal, but for some reason I was still unsteady on my feet. I sat down the floor and was confused as the floor seemed to be moving beneath me. It was as if the ship was moving in water which wasn't possible. My eyes slowly adjusted to the light and I looked around at a small cabin with very little furnishings. I jumped up and began pacing the room as I couldn't find the hatch that I had entered only minutes before. The walls were now solid with only one door leading in. I checked my phone only to learn that I had no reception. I resolved to search the rest of the ship and find a way out. I made my way towards the door and took a couple of deep breaths before pulling it open. I recoiled in shock as an ocean breeze whipped across my face. I could hear seagulls in the distance and looked out at a clear blue sky. I inched forward onto the deck of the ship before making my way to the bow of the ship. I held onto the sides for dear life as I looked down at the water that surrounded us on all sides. I heard footsteps behind me and I spun around to see almost a dozen rotting corpses advancing towards me. My legs refused to budge as I tried to force them to run as far away as possible. One of the corpses pulled out a sword and time seemed to slow down as he swung it towards me. I felt an agonising pain in my left hand as the blade sliced through it. A look of confusion crossed his face as my hand was still somehow attached to my arm. He swung his sword a couple more times but my arm was still unscathed. I was trying to hold back tears as my arm felt like someone had run over it with a lawnmower. I tried to flex my fingers but they were completely numb. My gaze shifted upwards and I did a double take when I saw the skull and crossbones flag hanging above me. The pirates had retreated a short distance away and seemed to be discussing what to do while shooting me occasional glances. I was about to jump overboard when I felt something launch itself at my face. I barely had time to react before it tore into my left eye. I desperately tried to fight whatever it was off, as it was tearing strips off my eye. The attack lasted mere moments as the creature suddenly disengaged, leaving me weeping and curled up on the deck. I raised my head and with my one remaining good eye watched the corpse of a parrot land a small distance away. It gave me a spiteful look before starting to groom what few feathers it had remaining. It randomly called out "pieces of eight" before launching itself into the air. I moved my fingers to my eyeball and was relieved when I found it was still intact. My left arm was starting to regain feeling and I prayed that my eyesight would fully return as well. The pirates had obviously decided to ignore me as they moved around the ship, and paid me no attention. The one who had initially attacked me now stood at the helm with the parrot sitting happily on his shoulder. I can only assume by the way that people were looking at him, that he was probably the captain. There was a cry from someone up in the rigging and they all started rushing around preparing for battle. I raised myself from the deck and vomited due to how wretched I felt. I ignored the nearby snorts of laughter and made my way back towards the side of the ship. I almost fainted when I saw the giant wave fast approaching the ship. My initial thought was that it was a tsunami but then I noticed the movement beneath the wave. There was something coming towards us and it dwarfed anything I had ever seen before. The wave suddenly subsided and the ocean went deathly calm. My heart was thumping in my chest as I tried to figure out where it had gone. The crew rushed about looking in all directions trying to find it. The water below the ship gradually grew darker and darker and I came to the sickening realisation that it was below us. I turned towards the captain and he seemed to understand what I meant when I pointed downwards. He began bellowing orders but his shouts were brutally silenced, as a tentacle the size of a giraffe smashed into the deck where he had been standing. The tentacle quickly withdrew back into the waves as his crushed body now littered the deck. The parrot had miraculously escaped the carnage and now flew around the ship, screeching at the top of its lungs. The crew stood there in shock for a few seconds while coming to terms with the fact their captain was dead. They were shaken out of their shock when hundreds of small crabs began clamouring over the deck and began attacking anything that got close to them. I let out a yelp as one of them began nipping me on the back of my leg. I tried to crush it beneath my feet but my foot passed harmlessly through it. Soon I was under attack by almost a dozen of these crabs and my lower legs were in agony. The rest of the crew were having better luck than me as they had wiped out the rest. I jumped over the ones attacking me and watched in appreciation as one of the crew killed the ones that had been harassing me. His empty eye sockets locked on mine for a few moments before he turned and moved away. I lifted my trouser legs and saw hundreds of small scars that hadn't previously been there. We barely had time to catch our breaths when tentacles began smashing down on all sides of us. The crew member who had helped me out moments before was picked up and dragged overboard. Within a minute I was the only person left on the ship as everyone else had either been crushed or dragged away. Tentacles began climbing over the deck as if searching for me. I had to move away numerous times as they got too close, but I was starting to be blocked into a corner. I held my breath as one of the tentacles touched my foot. It moved away and I let out a sigh of relief which was cut short as the tentacles suddenly converged on my location. They used the suckers that covered every inch of them to drag themselves forward. I relaxed for a moment as they initially passed harmlessly through my body. Their attack on me intensified and I flinched back as the first sucker somehow latched onto my skin. I began screaming as the sucker seemed to be burning through my flesh. The other tentacles quickly followed suit and my body was soon covered in hundred of tentacles. I lashed out with my feet to fight them off but they didn't even acknowledge my futile attempts. I looked around me and spotted the cabin door that I had come from earlier. I launched myself in that direction and cried in joy as the tentacles were wrenched away from my flesh. I jumped into the room and slammed the door behind me. The room was suddenly filled with a deafening thumping noise as the tentacles tried to force their way inside. The wood began to splinter and I knew it would only take a matter of seconds to smash the door open. My eyes traversed the room and finally rested on the hatch that had miraculous reappeared. I ran full speed at it just as the door exploded inwards. The tentacles flew towards me as I dived through the air and into the hatch. I awoke hours later lying on a bed of leafs on the ground. The ground around me was now empty apart from the few tools that I had left here. I gathered up everything and fled home. It has been weeks since it happened and the doctors told me that I will probably never see out of my eye again. I have started wearing an eyepatch to cover it up, which is kinda ironic since I now look like a pirate. That wasn't the only memento I got from that trip as another one showed up a few days after my escape. He now lies in a cage in my cellar, and I will occasionally go down at his rotted corpse and listen as he cries out pieces of eight.

Have you heard of The Folding Man?

y546y1

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y546y1/have_you_heard_of_the_folding_man/

I had always had a deep-rooted hatred for door-to-door salesmen. Ever since I moved away from my family and owned a house on my own, they always seemed to come knocking at the most inconvenient of times. Mostly they would be ignored, if I knew they were salesmen. But it was hard to tell exactly why someone was knocking on my door from just the time of day. In hindsight, I should have had a peephole, or even a security camera, installed when I moved in. Then maybe I wouldn't have ended up in the situation I find myself in today. They say that The Folding Man comes knocking, dressed in a dull suit, trench coat and a fedora which shields his face from view. He seems to be somewhat of an urban legend, or horror story to tell around the campfire for a cheap thrill. Specific facts about The Folding Man that i've heard have all varied, but there is a general consensus about the briefcase he drags around with him. It is a brown leather business case, one that looks like it should be used for filing. It folds open much akin to an accordion, and has a shiny golden clip keeping the case shut. I woke up in the middle of the night with a jolt. Drenched in my cold sweat, I downed the rest of the glass of water, recalling exactly why I had woken up so suddenly. My night terrors had been getting worse by the day, and therapy wasn't helping. I had considered medication, but decided against as I would probably end up forgetting to take it anyway. I would always have a recurring dream, the same one every night. Each night, it would feel more real than the last, and the pain of it would get worse and worse every time I went to sleep. The dream consisted of me, in 1st person, standing outside my front doorway, when my limbs began to twist and contort uncontrollably. I could feel ligaments and muscle being torn apart, while my bones splintered and skin ripped. First, my arms would be snapped backwards at the elbow, folding in on themselves. Joints dislocated and tissue compressed against each other as I felt blood splattering all over my face and body. I cried out in pain as I realised that my legs were next. My knees were then snapped the wrong way by an unseen force, and my legs pressed against my figure as tightly as they could. The dream ended when my neck was snapped backwards, after I felt my skull begin to be crushed under an invisible weight. I felt my nose cartilage pierce blood vessels and teeth caving in on each other, and then my neck was snapped swiftly, attacking my spinal cord and waking me up from that hellish nightmare I can recall in finite detail. After waking up from my restless slumber, I jumped as I heard a very loud thump. And then it happened again. And once more. Then it occurred to me- that it was someone knocking on the door.Reluctantly, I grabbed my robe and tied it lazily around my waist, combing my hands through my light brown bedhead as I made my way down the small staircase separating my living room from my upper floor. I disliked being disturbed in the middle of the night, but I had a feeling that there was a possibility that the person on the other side needed my help. And I knew better than to reject anyone in need, so I walked into the living room and opened the door. I recoiled slightly in shock as I felt a dark presence surround me, despite the well-lit street outside illuminating everything else around my doorstep. I looked up to see a too-skinny man that towered over me and the doorframe itself, in a dull coat to conceal his figure and a hat that rested slightly askew on his head. I couldn't make out any facial features, apart from freakishly dull skin and a sullen expression, that I would go as far as to say resembled grief, or loss, which rested on a sunken, lifeless face. Unnaturally dark freckles rested upon the little exposed skin that I could see, giving off a similar appearance to black mold when it begins to take over its victim. I could hear the man's laboured breathing, as he picked up an object next to him and brought it closer to me, in one slow, smooth movement. When my eyes eventually focused on it and I could make out its appearance, I slammed the door on him and locked it behind me immediately. *A briefcase.* It was exactly as it had been described by anybody who had mentioned it to me, brown with a gold buckle, that opened like an accordion to hold files. I considered that this person was just dressing up as The Folding Man and walking around the neighbourhood to get a rise out of people, but I doubted anyone in a neighbourhood like mine would be decent enough at makeup and special effects to pull it off that well- let alone balance well enough on anything to make themselves look as tall as that man that was standing there. I exhaled in relief as a few seconds passed and there was no sign of the man, but inhaled sharply once more after I head three more merciless thumps against the door. This time, however, I did not answer. I simply waited, to see what would happen. He would eventually leave after I ignored him long enough, right? I felt a pit in my stomach grow as the man would knock on my door again, every few seconds, each set of three louder and more aggressive than the last. I felt a twinge of sympathy for him as he sounded almost desperate to see me again, and show me whatever was in that briefcase. I double checked the lock on the door before making my way upstairs once again, refusing to talk to the man again tonight. The knocking did not cease, however. I could only hear it get louder and louder, and more and more frequent the more I tried to ignore it. It became agonising, to the point where it was impossible to tune out. No matter how many doors I shut, how many pillows I put over my head, and how much I blasted music through my headphones, the volume and intensity only increased. I felt it in my body now, I was beginning to develop a piercing headache from the sheer volume, and my vision started to blur for a split second each time I heard the man thump on the wood of my door, feeling the intense and now somewhat painful vibrations in my chest . I knew that he wasn't thumping on my door anymore, and it was driving me mad. Despite my weakened state I knew that the only way to stop it was to open the door to the man again. If he was able to do this to me, I didn't want to know what else he was capable of if I didn't follow his wish. I stumbled back to the front door while covering my ears and threw it open, relieved to hear the knocking fade away and then cease completely as the same man stood there, in the same position that I opened the door to him the first time. He picked up his briefcase from beside him, still holding that same, unmoving expression, that made me wonder if he had lost something dear to him in the past. This time, I watched anxiously as he unclipped the buckle on his briefcase and let the lid fall open, and I recoiled in horror as I watched it begin to leak and spill all over the place.A thick, red slime began to drip from the edges of the briefcase and onto the ground, and I held in my own vomit as I watched something crawl out of it. I saw pieces of exposed bone and miscellaneous strips of flesh emerge from the case, gripping onto the edges with what remained of their hands before the moving pile of human remains spilled out onto the concrete step with an obscene squelching noise. I stepped back as a few droplets of blood sprayed onto my face, horrified and disgusted by the sight. "H-hhe....." The pile of flesh began to form words, its voice gargling on its own miscellaneous fluids. God knows how this thing could even still be alive. "He wants... a... Bring him.... an object that means... the most to you..." The thing said in-between heavy wheezes and laboured breaths.I dashed inside, fearing that I would end up like the pile of human remains that rested on my doorstep, and snatched my girlfriend's locket off of the bedside table. She had passed away a year ago, and this locket was the only thing of hers I had, aside from photos. I felt a few silent tears roll down my cheek as I looked inside, taking one last glance at the photo inside. It was a photo of us on a ferris wheel, on our first date back in high school. I hesitated for a moment, having second thoughts about whether I really wanted to give this away to a poltergeist and a pile of flesh and bones. But my thoughts were interrupted when I heard a series of wet slapping noises rapidly approaching my location. I grabbed the locket and ran back to the front door, where the man was waiting and I handed the necklace to his outstretched, grey-skinned hand. For the first time I had ever seen, his face contorted into a soft smile. He put the necklace into the blood-soaked briefcase, and closed it. Right as I heard the buckle on the case close, I turned around in a panic and watched the pile of meat and bones scream in agony as its mound of tissue twisted and contorted. I watched in horror, mouth gaping, as one broken bone was put back together, and then another, and another. The figure stretched and compressed, as it writhed in its place on my floor. It looked like its formerly compressed heap of a body was being unfolded, reconstructed, right before my very eyes. The more the thing unfolded, the more I could make out its features. His formerly bloodied flesh was now a healthy tan colour, and I could make out that he had rich brown eyes and looked like he was from Hispanic descent. The man took a large breath of fresh air after his fully formed, fully healed body turned to face me, and he said softly, "Thank you." I stood in complete shock, my pale flesh standing even paler now as I was frozen in place, still trying to process what just happened. My new roommate Rafael was quite a nice guy. He told me a few days after arriving on my doorstep that his run-in with The Folding Man was quite a similar one to mine. Except, there was no-one there to warm him of what The Folding Man wanted, and he was Folded as a result. He explained that even though the experience was excruciatingly painful, it left no lasting symptoms or any scars of no sort. We speculated that The Folding Man was missing a part of himself, and wanted to feel whole again, maybe, and that was what drove him to take sentimental things from others. I'm glad to have given up the necklace though. I miss my girlfriend every single day, but I know she would be proud of me for saving a life with what she had given me. My night terrors also stopped completely after being visited by The Folding Man, so I take that they were a harbinger of his arrival. I do wonder though, what will happen if he visits me again and I have nothing to offer to him. Will I end up being folded like Rafael? Until it happens, if ever, I will never know. Some say an attachment to material objects is a bad thing, but in my case, it saved my friend's life, and my own as well. My final word of advice to anyone reading is to stay attached to your things and love them greatly just as if you were to love another person. Because even if losing it hurts, the pain might be enough to save you from an even more painful fate.

That Lady at the Ziesser's House Wasn't Human

y4zyiy

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y4zyiy/that_lady_at_the_ziessers_house_wasnt_human/

My hands are shaking as I write this and I don't know how much time I have left so if I have any mistakes, just know that I tried before it was too late. I'm Vanessa, I'm thirty-six years old and though I'm not from here, I live in a lost place in England. A few years ago, I traveled to a more populated city looking for opportunities, without much more to lose other than my clothes and dignity, so when I heard about a rich family that was hiring staff for the house I applied immediately. It offered a place to stay and food while also paying a little money for this full-time job. I was over the moon with the idea of living in this enormous white mansion that had nearly as many rooms as a castle would, not to mention that I knew the others working there would be like a family. Naturally when I got the interview I grew increasingly nervous as the minutes passed, the man talking to me was Edmond Theodore Ziesser, the head and owner of the house. I had studied him and he was one of the most successful in his family, and of course, loaded with money. True to the picture people had painted of him, his voice was intimidating as a director's while his light blue eyes remained freezing me, cold as ice. His expression rarely changed by a frown or a notably fake smile, he was serious as if displeased all the time, which honestly could make anyone uncomfortable and yet he didn't seem to care. Surprisingly despite the poor development of the meeting I was hired, beginning three days after. I soon came to know the people there. From the other members of the staff to the family itself. Miss Ziesser was Judith Evelyne Le'Clair and I suppose I could start describing this lady with her albinism, contrasting to her husband's dark brown hair, she had the palest shade of white I have ever seen in a person, and that, combined with long eyelashes decorating beautiful downturned eyes gave her a serene, wise vibe, though the next thing I noticed was their color, her irises where red or somewhere between that and fuchsia, attention-seeking and intense. It was a weird combination that made me reckon of animals, but what totally got me was their son. Ren Ziesser, such a simple name for a rich kid. He had purplish but the shape of his mother's eyes and features, as well as his dad's portion of genetics too. He wasn't albine but had really clear hair, with brown eyebrows and eyelashes a little darker. He did have delicate, but defined attributes, with a height that in the future would for sure beat Miss Ziesser's. He was the quietest of them three, though there weren’t many chances to talk to him either, he mostly spent his days studying and being trained for the business, and I heard he was very clever, but that was about it. I was told the reason they were hiring new people was that they were in need of more staff since the previous ones had started to quit suddenly, without any explanation. I have to admit this was kind of a red flag, but to be honest, it was too much of a good deal to care about this. The first day I was instructed by and met most of the others working there, being told what to do and how to do it was a relief, since they were mostly very polite and kind. The only thing that I was not too convinced about was the treatment that they received from the family, because every time they would come across any of them they would seem... scared, overly cautious. I wondered why, and not afraid of asking, I did so. Yet I was answered with something more intriguing than before, a list of homemade rules, advices followed by most of the ones there, a short list, but a specific one. It went like this: 1- Don't ask why. If you're ordered something, just follow it to the letter. 2- Don't ask about other family members. 3- If Miss Ziesser talks to you, make clear that you're listening while also doing your task. 4- If Young Mr. Ziesser ask you for help, don't answer and go away as quickly as possible. 5- If any of the parents ask "If you have heard or seen anything" say no. 6- If you hear a fight, get away. 7- If any of Young Mr. Ziesser's teachers asks how he's doing; you must answer fine. 8- Whatever happens in the mansion, stays in the mansion. Being given all of this while I cleaned was one thing, but processing it was other entirely different, not only was this shady, but also harsh on some topics. And yet I guessed every home had its quirks so I kept my cool and followed them as a part of my job. Caring for a mansion is hard, every day was exhausting and I would end up so tired I barely had time to share before going to my room, but now is when it all started. I remember this particular night, I had been there for about two weeks and I was walking to my bedroom. It was raining, not cats and dogs but definitely not lightly either, just a regular kind of rain to clean the roofs and water all the plants. My feet crawled across the marble floors as I tried to reach my door, the lights turned off as I passed the others, seeing a fainted glow squeezing through the lock from time to time of the people who were still awake. I was calm, sleepy even, until I heard something. There was an opening sound and a loud thud coming from a window behind me, it was a few meters away turning right. No one seemed to care, so I went to look what was going on by myself, waking up a little. When I noticed there was a wet trace on the floor I sighed, thinking about how someone would have to clean that, but soon I realized what this would also mean. Someone had broken in. I quickly ran up to the opening not letting the cold breeze paralyze me and shut it as silently as I could, decided to ask for help on what to do in this kind of situation, I went and knocked the first door, but the light inside turned off, and when I tried to open it was locked. So I tried on the next one, but it was the same. I began talking, explaining the situation and trying to get anyone to come out, but no one seemed to want to get involved. It was only when I heard footsteps coming to this direction that I realized how loud I had probably been, my petition then becoming increasingly insistent and impatient, scared of what might happen, and yet not a door opened. So I figured it was enough and sprinted to my room, closing and locking the door as soon as I got in, with my lights off and a jump to bed, I covered myself in sheets before peeking from my place, restless. The footsteps, ones that sounded like high-heeled shoes, stopped before the door and I watched as something tried to open. The doorknob moved from left to right, up and down and to the front, I just closed my eyes waiting for it to stop, the rectangular piece of wood trembling for such strength being used to try to open it, I grew so scared I started crying, but just when I thought it would crack open, another door from behind did. Everything went silent. Next day and I learned that one of my colleagues had left at some point in the night, I had fallen asleep like that so I couldn't really tell when, so when I asked about what had happened to the others they just answered I should sleep earlier, or that they didn't hear anything, which was impossible. But as someone told me to leave it, I did. Perhaps in the end I was too tired and hallucinated such events. I tried to convince myself of that, but it turned out impossible when I found, cleaning one of the bedroom’s hallways, a necklace. It had one of those circles where you put pictures inside, it was of him and his wife, the one who had left. This time I didn't tell anyone, I had already understood that no one wanted to get involved in anything but their routines. I was on my own. I was about to slide it in my pocket when someone touched my shoulder, a white glove. 'Excuse me, miss, that doesn't belong to you' he said, staring straight at me. It was Young Mr. Ziesser. I froze as there wasn't any rule for this, and I didn't want to appear a thief either, so I nodded and gave it to him, apologizing. 'Who's is it?' I asked as gently as possible, but all I received was a subtle fake smile and silence as he left to go to his room. 'What's wrong with Young Mr. Ziesser?' I questioned to my co-worker, rubbing the clothes of a shirt to clean it neatly in the washing room later. She looked around and took a breath before speaking in a quiet voice. 'We're not supposed to talk about this but... I think he is recovering.' She affirmed. 'Recovering from what?' I looked at her, confused. 'He used to appear with bruises and stuff. Miss and Mister Ziesser are very severe when it comes to him. Oh, you should have heard how he screamed when he was a child, he couldn't stop crying while we did his makeup.' She spoke completely focused on what she was doing, hanging the clothes now for them to dry. I just listened, horrified. Did all of them know about this and did nothing? I remained silent for a moment, but before I could say anything, we heard a loud scream, calling for anybody who could help. It was Judith. We ran to where the sound was originated only to discover her with a broken glass of wine crying uncontrollably on the floor, pointed by the sun rays that got through the window as if they were a reflector. 'My glass, my sister's glass...!' She cried, trying to put the pieces together with her hands. We went and helped her to stand up, but she didn't want to get away from there. 'You have to do something, please, do something...!' She glanced to a man past us, Mr. Ziesser, who ordered us to take her to her room. So with four of us we did exactly that, and eventually, after throwing hands and some objects, she calmed down. 'She was always... mentally unstable.' My colleague explained as we cleaned the mess. Of course she was, I wouldn't even discuss that, but no one knew exactly what she had, there were only rumors. So my chance got ruined and now I only could ponder about what happened once in bed. So the following week I kept going back to how unhappy everyone seemed, for the way Edmond had referred to his wife I could see he didn't have not even the littlest scrap of love for her. The lady was crazy, the kid surely traumatized and everyone afraid of them. Keeping all that in my mind, I could rationalize about how probably the woman had scared me the other time, perhaps she was the one that broke in and tried to open my door, but I couldn't tell. One night I tried to prove my theory, I stayed up until late and I began wandering through the tall-roofed, white and empty echoing hallways, making the long way to my room until I heard a voice, Young Mr. Ziesser's. He was talking to somebody, but by the time I approached and peeked from a corner, they were gone. It hadn't been Miss Ziesser's voice, it was another woman's, yet none of my co-workers were awake. 'Don't hurt this one, she's new here, it'll be odd.' I heard, whispered by the teenager. And at that moment I knew I had to leave, so I began to quietly walk backwards until I got on track to my bedroom again, and it would have been it, if not for the table I moved. It made a screeching noise against the floor and that was my signal to run, but the footsteps that followed behind me were so fast... that couldn't be human. There wasn't any choice but to hide in some room, yet I couldn't just do it without solving the mistery, so I hurried to a random door and hid behind it, hoping for whoever chased me to not find me. She wasn't Miss Ziesser. It was hard to see in the dark, but her irises glowed a saturated coral orange, her figure being tall, skinny and delicate. She was wearing strange clothes, like victorian style, as if she was in a costume from the past. And playing with her almost white light blue hair she looked around and said, with a gesture of a hand, corpse's pale. 'She has gotten away. What shall we...?' She couldn't finish the phrase, for all the running had captured someone else's attention. A man approached, making her turn, and a millisecond before I shut the door she glanced right at me. She apparently disappeared, because Mr. Ziesser only pushed and kicked his son, yelling at him for staying up late. As soon as both left, I did the same. That night, I had trouble sleeping, I just kept on reckoning about the final glance and felt observed. That couldn't be human at all. The very next day I came across Young Mr Ziesser, but noticed no bruises or signs of what had happened, he didn't even look at me as I cleaned. It was freaky, but I couldn't have possibly imagined what was to come at night. That night everything was silent, I had decided it was enough of just saying it was fishy and time to move on, to take the next step and leave before something else happened. So I prepared a note and was packing my stuff in my room when I heard something outside. I stopped rolling those old but dear clothes and remained like a statue for a second, listening. When I couldn't distinguish anything else I left my bedroom and headed to the window to watch. They were Mr. and Miss Ziesser, going towards their son, who waited patiently until they got near him. I wondered what kind of game was he playing, I mean, he knew they would punish him for whatever he was doing, so... But I didn't have time to finish, as his voice raised and he began talking to them, he told them how much he had suffered, how much they tortured him and how it affected him, he gave them the chance to apologize, but as his father grabbed him by the arm he instead pushed down and got him to the ground, kicking so hard beyond what he would be able to with that body that he rolled through the grass. Then he looked at his mother, and a fight later she was dead, on the ground, with her limbs twisted in all the wrong directions. His dad followed, with tears on his cheeks he watched the light leave his eyes for what felt like an eternity after making a punching bag out of his body, finally suffocating him. They looked like all their bones were broken, as if they were mere toys who had filling inside of them, but were soft. And when all of that finished, she came. She hugged him as he cried, telling him he had done the right thing, and I would have left again but her sight... her sight got me, and it was so bone-chilling that all I could do was faint. The screams of pain and agony resonated in my head as I gained consciousness, all the pictures I had seen too coming back, it wasn't until I heard his voice that I reacted. 'Vanessa?' he had kneeled down next to me and was staring. 'Are you alright?' I nodded, terrified, though I figured it would be better to hide it. 'Did you see or hear anything?' He asked. And at that moment I knew why were the rules made. She was there, the lady, observing us from outside, narrowing her eyes so she could see better. I turned my eyes to him and opened my mouth. 'No, did something happen? It might just have been my low pressure.' He accompanied me to my bedroom. Where I felt the walls asphyxiating me so bad I couldn’t sleep one bit. I left the next day. I soon learned that both parents had gone missing since that day, no one knew how or why. And I didn't tell a single word. I disappeared from the radars, moved out and never went back. Of course the lady I had seen had something to do with what happened, maybe she was manipulating the boy or encouraged him to do it, but for all I know that night he did something I can't explain. All that strength, and how fast he and she moved... they weren't human. They just simply weren't. I kept contact with the rest of my colleagues, yet one by one they went missing too. I didn't want to relate the facts, but now that the only one left disappeared, is 3 AM and someone is knocking at my door, I can see a coral orange reflection on my window and I don't know If I'm going to survive.

If you find what moves within the dark, I'll tell you what will happen

y52lzj

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y52lzj/if_you_find_what_moves_within_the_dark_ill_tell/

I’m a grown man whose afraid of the dark. I know it sounds ridiculous but before you judge me let me tell you what happened. ​ I was seven and my household was fairly normal. Loving mother, stoic father. Looking back I was better off than most people then. But now, rife with tracks marks from the needles with bottles in my room you’d never have believed it. I just needed to be happy. Anything to let me fall asleep with some warmth in my chest. To go in the darkness without that thing to get me. ​ It was getting dark when I was young and my parents sent me off to bed. The two were still very much in love when I was younger. My father, back from his job with the Teamsters, was eager to get some alone time with his wife. I miss those days when they smiled. I haven’t seen them do so in a while. ​ So off I went, climbing up the stairs to my room. I threw on my pajamas and turned to hit the lights. On grabbing that nib of plastic a sense of dread came over me. I hated the dark then yet even so it felt like more than a child’s fear. Something seemed to watch me in the shadows when I slept. From The closet, under the bed, now it was the window of the second floor. In it there was nothing but that oaken branch cutting across the moon in the night sky. It swayed with a weight unnatural for its size, yet then again it was over a decade ago, should be a fainter memory. Even so the image of that room remains crystal in my mind. From hardwood floors all the way to the cotton throw blanket covered in moons and stars. ​ I breathed in and threw the switch. Afterwards I dove into my bed beneath the covers. After a moment curled in the safety of my blanket nothing had come for me so I peeked my head above. It was then I noticed I’d accidentally left the window open. I swore to myself, looking to the doorway ensuring I wasn’t heard. After gaining my courage again I crawled out of my bed, heading for the window. ​ A gust of wind came in as I tried to pull it shut, shoving me aside. As I fell there was a a thump in my closet across the room. Between that and my already bristling nerves I cried out in fear, running for the door. ​ Tumbling down the stairs I called out for my parents. The two hopped up from the couch, fixing their shirts with a face like their hands were caught in cookie jars. “What is it boy” My father to his credit wasn’t angry. He simply moved between me and mom as she made herself decent. He even had to stop himself from laughing. ​ I was far too young and frightened to notice or care. “There's something in my room!” I pointed up the stairs begging my parents to come and look. ​ “Joseph” My mother opened her arms to which I ran as she embraced me. She stroked my hair as I cried, looking to my dad with eyes full of pity for her boy. “We should let him stay with us, just for tonight.” ​ My father stood there and thought for a moment, then shook his head. “No, he’s a big boy now. There's a time he has to learn. Come with me Joe, were facing this together.” ​ My mother agreed, letting me go with a gentle push to follow. After my father I went up the stairs and back into my room. ​ He turned on the light and sent me in. I looked around nervous as darkness still filled the closet. The light from the ceiling was an old swinging bulb hanging from a line. The house was by no means a hovel but it was definitely a fixer upper. Dad eyed both me and the closet and pointed. “Is that where you think the monster is?” ​ I nodded, thinking he would go in and check yet instead he stepped out for a moment, returning with a flashlight. “Go on. I’m right behind you.” ​ I took the torch, pointing it in the doorway as I inched closer. I swallowed hard as I stood within that doorway. Swinging the light around for the movement from before. Dad stood behind me looking in. “Looks like your monsters there.” ​ Upon further inspection it looked like he was right. An umbrella and a couple boxes fell from one of the upper shelves, its contents spilling across the floor. My dad squatted down, putting a calloused hand on my little shoulder. “Look son. Most of the things in the world, especially in America that you might run into; Raccoons, Mice, stray cats and dogs. Most of the time they’re the ones who are afraid of us, and rightly so. We’re the things that went bump in the night for them, not the other way around. So when something goes moving in the dark, whose the monster?” ​ I hesitantly pointed a finger at myself. “Me?” ​ “That’s right. Now go look in there and give a big roar at whatever was it was. Like this.” To which he made a funny roar at the closet with his arms raised. “See, now you try.” ​ I pulled my little arms up with my hands stretched like claws, roaring as best I could. My father laughed and roared again with me . “Good job son. Now who‘s the big bad monster in this room.” ​ I giggled as I replied. “I am.” ​ “You are. Now give me a hug. Its time for us all to go bed.” So he wrapped his arms around me with a squeeze. He shut the window I had missed, grabbing the light as I crawled back into bed. ​ I turned around, curled in my blanket and waved. “Good night dad!” ​ “Good night son.” My father smiled and flipped the switch, off to be with his wife downstairs ​ I rolled over to face the window, looking at the night sky. The moon shone its glow around me as I drifted off to sleep. ​ And that was when it happened. ​ I awoke to the world around me yet unable to move. My body tingled with a numbness. That tingle was followed by the sense that my being wasn’t so much through my extremities, but seated in my eyes. Those eyes took in the world around me yet never moved, only remaining aware of what was in its view. ​ Laying there, willing myself to sit with no avail I noticed it. The movement in the closet had returned. Now there were no boxes, but a stump of a foot entering the light. A squat, fat, and horrible ugly thing entered my room. Its eyes glowed in the moonlight above a snout as short and hideous as the rest of it. Beneath its trunk its yellowed skin and lips smirked like a hunter looking above a trap. Its hands were dancing in the darkness, rotating in the night air, weaving invisible thread around me as I lay there paralyzed. Strange as it was, I was yet aware that this was no dream. ​ Fear crawled through my heart, watching it weave it’s spell in vulgar hands with ill intentions. My heart raced, screaming in my minds eye to move! ​ That thing came ever closer, still twirling its hands and piggish arms about. The pot belly naked and brown like a boar wallowing in mire, moving ever closer. It pulled its hands around a thread invisible, moving its stumpy legs toward me. It was, small, fat, horrible and ugly, and it was coming for its prey. ​ It knew that I could see it. It knew that I knew and Its wicked grin had grew. It mirrored my displeasure with a joy sadistic as it came. The weight of that thing shifted my bed, pulling itself atop the covers. I felt its weight across my chest, standing above me as it glared with beady eyes. There it sat, crossing its stumpy legs above me, relaxed as one preparing an easy lunch. I failed to scream as it rubbed its‘ hands for dinner. ​ It thought that it would eat me. A little boy stolen by an ugly devil, thrown into the night for a stew. It and others dancing around a cauldron in the night. No. What it did was worse. ​ Its jaw opened wide, stretching like rubber as its’ eyes glowed looking upwards. Its gaping maw faced me with its purple wriggling tongue as the darkness in its mouth swirled. That hole flickered with a light that I found magical, haunting, and a terror to my dreams. ​ It was dreams that I had saw. Hopes and happiness. A portal had swirled inside its mouth. Rolling in blueish hue as the veins of black spun thread inside its waves. Like driftwood in a storm images came and went within the folds. Nightmares from before running from a monster in a cave. The dream I’d one day be a firefighter. Memories of a child’s infancy and more. Other children s lives flickered like Polaroid stills, dissolving in it maw in sick digestion. ​ The portal was getting larger. Or perhaps I was going in. My consciousness felt those ripples growing larger, threatening to pull me in. My life and memories would leave me, abandoning a husk of a child with light no more inside. ​ It was then its’ trap had shut. Sitting there it watched me, eyes glaring as though it had been offended. Its trunk snorted with a ripple of its snout. Standing up it hopped off my bed. A wave of its hand opened my window and it hopped into the night. ​ My parents came a moment later. “Everything alright in there. We heard a noise.” The two had found me laying there frozen with a face in terror and eyes weeping yet still unable to move. The first sensation returning I sobbed in clenched jaw, my mother holding me in the dark. ​ The happy boy they knew had died. No longer had I found joy in anything. Since the incident my therapist calls things like night terror and sleep paralysis, my mind seemed incapable of squeezing any joy. The pills did little and my parents did more. More fighting, more blaming of each other. My father took more trips at work, avoiding a trouble he didn’t know how to fix. My mother took to drinking, avoiding the boy who never made a smile. Decades passed and I wish I could be happy even now. That I could give them back the spark they had so warm between each other. Yet now that spark was gone , as sure as it died in me.

I’m a fire watch lookout and I think I’ve made a terrible mistake (Part 3 - finale)

y4dfgc

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y4dfgc/im_a_fire_watch_lookout_and_i_think_ive_made_a/

Link to part two: [https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y1j653/im\_a\_fire\_watch\_lookout\_and\_i\_think\_ive\_made\_a/?utm\_source=share&utm\_medium=web2x&context=3](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y1j653/im_a_fire_watch_lookout_and_i_think_ive_made_a/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3) ​ Another night. Another goddamn night, stuck in this window-lined prison. At least I have a good view, so I guess that’s something. The storm raged all night again last night and only let up just before dawn. At one point, the winds were gusting hard enough to rock the tower, which was a bit disconcerting, the say the least. As I stand out on the wet catwalk around my shack, I see that the clouds haven’t let us go just yet, though, and look every bit as pissed-off as they did yesterday afternoon. It seems like the dry season has come to an end, which is good, since I’ve been slacking a bit on my fire-watching duties over the last couple days. Gallows-humor, right? It’s either that, or sitting in the corner in a fetal position, crying, and I’ve been told by my ex-fiance that I’m not an attractive crier. I haven’t heard a peep from Billy since his last terrifying broadcast to me yesterday. I’ve tried to reach him several times since then, but no dice. I’ve also tried reaching Nathan and the ranger station, but all I get is static, even from my base radio set. When I first started here, I remember Billy telling me during my brief orientation that the radio should be able to reach out fifty miles or more, so I’m not sure what’s going on with it. Update – I just took a quick look at the base station and found that the cable leading up to the antenna on the roof of the shack is now just a dangly thing swaying in the breeze. The storm must have decided it needed the antenna more than I did, because it’s gone. I can see where the screws were torn out of the wooden mast. And before you say anything about whatever this thing is that’s been stalking around deciding to sabotage my radio, I should probably tell you that the wooden antenna mast looks like it’s been around for a long time. The wood was probably dry rotted to begin with, and now that it’s soaked, it crumbled away in little wet brown bits as soon as I probed at it with my fingers. Speaking of whatever this *Kuwetami or* *angler* thing is – I’m just going to call it a *mimic*, I think – I haven’t heard or sensed anything weird since yesterday. I’m assuming it’s still out there somewhere, but I don’t think it’s nearby. If it’s still anywhere around here, it’s probably somewhere over near Tower 12, or at least that’s what makes the most sense to me, anyway. Which brings me to my shiny new lunatic idea. My Jeep. It can’t be more than a mile down the northern track, still sitting there in front of that fallen pine. I could probably get to it in less than an hour, even with the wet and muddy ground. It had almost a full tank of gas, and I’m pretty sure I could outrun this *mimic* thing in it if I can get onto a straight shot of service road. I definitely don’t relish the idea, mind you. Every instinct is screaming at me to sit my butt right where I am in this tower. I know that the ranger station will start getting a little antsy when Billy doesn’t check in after a few days, but I’m also thinking they may extend it out a day or two in light of the foul weather. Maybe five days at the outside, and then I’ll have a ranger truck parked outside my tower. The question is what they’ll find when they get here. See, I’ve been thinking about it – Billy definitely knew more about this thing than I do. Certainly, enough to not open the door for it when he heard it outside pretending to be a girl scout selling cookies. That makes me think that maybe the fence and the trapdoor might not be enough to stop it if it really wants in. As pants-shittingly terrifying as the prospect of leaving the tower and making for the Jeep is, sitting here cornered in my window-lined shack, just waiting for it to show up in the middle of the night, is even worse. At least I have chance out there. I still have the magnum; it’s been holstered on my belt since yesterday. They don’t issue peashooters for bear protection out here; this thing is the most powerful handgun in mass production. It’ll put down anything in North America, as long as you can hit it right. Any normal animal, anyway. Who knows what *this* thing is capable of? Still, it does provide a level of comfort and gives me some confidence that my plan may work, if luck’s on my side. For now, I’m going to try to eat a granola bar to put something in my churning stomach and try to build a little energy. I don’t think I’ve eaten anything since early yesterday. After that, I’m grabbing my pack and heading out. Wish me luck. \* I left my tower shortly after ten AM and let me tell you, those were some of the most difficult first steps I’ve ever taken in my life. Stepping out through the chain link gate into the open space beyond my small compound felt like I was stepping off the roof of a skyscraper. When I closed the gate behind me, I just stood there motionless for what must have been five minutes, frozen in place with my hand clenching the grip of the revolver still holstered at my belt. Even with all the stress and anxiety swirling around in my head, I was amazed at exactly how keen my senses seemed in that moment. It felt like I could hear every rustle of leaves and smell every damp patch of moss in the thousands of acres of wilderness surrounding me. In that moment, I felt very small. Very insignificant. Trivial. When my chest began to ache, I realized that I had been holding a breath in, subconsciously afraid to make even the slightest sound. I let it out slowly and forced myself to breathe normally again. Scanning the trees, I turned slowly in a circle, eyes searching for anything that seemed out of place, like it didn’t belong. But there was nothing there. Everything seemed normal, at least to me. Casting one last look over my shoulder at the refuge of my tower, I started off along the seldom-used service road to the north, careful of my footing on the muddy and uneven ground. I allowed myself to move at a slow jog, fast enough to make good progress, but not so fast that I was announcing my presence to the world. Not so fast that I couldn’t hear the forest around me over my own breathing. I stopped a couple times during my trek to catch my breath and take a drink of water and thankfully still seemed alone and unpursued for now. I wondered if it was out there somewhere among the dense trees, hiding in the muted gray shadows of the forest. Maybe it was looking for me at that moment. Perhaps it had returned to my tower in my absence, found it empty, and was even now tracking my flight along this trail. If I paused long enough, would I see it suddenly rounding the gentle curve behind me as it caught up? Or did it prefer to move more stealthily, among the trees and underbrush, laying in wait alongside the path ahead, ready for my approach? I had to forcibly shake myself of that line of thought. It wasn’t doing me any good now – I was committed to my plan. The thought of retracing my steps and returning to my lonely watch tower held just as much terror, because now it sat there unmanned, unwatched, abandoned. For all I know, the *mimic* could be there at this very moment, ransacking my shack. I definitely didn’t want to walk back in on *that* little scene, I can promise you that much. I ended up making surprisingly good time on that northern path; it was only about thirty minutes before I saw the dim shape of my Jeep, waiting dutifully in the middle of the path ahead. The matte tan paint job and black cloth roof stood out remarkably well against the muted greens and browns of the surrounding forest. Urging my pace to quicken, I covered the last hundred yards before I even realized it and found myself standing at the door, hand on handle. I paused. A chill ran down my spine, inciting an unbidden shiver. I realized then how quiet the forest around me was and wasn’t sure how long it had been this way. I felt that something was out of place and so did the native fauna. On any given day, the trees were alive with the sounds of wildlife. Squirrels and chipmunks chittered, insects buzzed, and a thousand varieties of birds called and sang from the treetops. Not now, though. It was as if they had all left, and I felt very alone in that moment. Only, not *quite* alone. Somewhere out there, in that sea of trees, something stalked. Something that didn’t belong in the light of day. Something that didn’t belong under the watchful eyes of mother nature. I was pretty sure she wouldn’t have let something like the *mimic* evolve, had it not been hidden in its underground realm. The door of the Jeep was thankfully quiet as I depressed the latch and swung it open. If this had been a horror movie, I’m sure an ear-splitting screech would have erupted from its hinges, but in real life we tend to take care of these vehicles pretty well. In the best of times, they are the only convenient transportation for twenty miles or more. In times like this, though, it was likely the only thing that would save my sorry ass. I jumped in and pulled the door shut behind me with a dull thunk, subconsciously locking it. I almost laughed aloud when I did that; the entire top of the Jeep was nothing more than canvas and plastic windows. A feisty hamster could probably have penetrated my little haven. I doubt the *mimic* would even think twice about it. The Jeep fired up immediately when I turned the key in the ignition, and I threw it in reverse for the most ungraceful fourteen-point turn you’ve ever seen on the narrow and muddy service road. Once I got turned around, I didn’t waste any time directing it back the way I’d come. The service road was really little more than an uneven and ill-maintained dirt trail and was only ever used infrequently by the rangers and lookouts. As I’d previously mentioned, it was a rough ride, even for the heavy suspension of my trusty steed, so I had to keep it at a reasonable speed. The very last thing I needed was to snap an axle or bounce myself right off the road and into the trees. Compound the condition of the trail with the fact that it constantly wound and curved as it progressed, and it meant that even my best speed wasn’t too much faster than I could run on foot. That’s okay – once I got past my tower, the service road was generally better maintained and followed a more-or-less straight path. I’d be able to build some decent speed there, and I’d be out of the wilderness and standing at the ranger station in an hour or so. The abrupt appearance of my tower caused me to feather off the gas as I rounded the last curve from the northern track. I slowed to a crawl and squinted through the now-dirty windshield. From here, everything looked exactly like I had left it. The gate still stood closed and, looking up, I could see the trapdoor also appeared shut. Maybe this thing hadn’t returned. Hell, maybe this thing wasn’t ever going to return. For all I knew, it was headed in the opposite direction. It’s not like it had a GPS or anything. It was at that moment that I nearly pissed myself when the radio still clipped to my belt squawked and I heard probably the last thing I had expected to hear. Billy. “John, are you there?” The signal was pretty clear, but his voice sounded weak, strained. I almost didn’t respond. I was frozen, indecision clouding my mind. I didn’t know what I could trust to be true, but I doubted that this *mimic* had read the radio manual and learned to operate the handset. I snatched the handset from my shoulder and keyed the mic. “Billy? Holy shit, is that you?” He answered me right away and I thought I could hear relief in his tone, buried under his pained words. “John, thank God! I was afraid you were gone.” My eyes drifted to the trail leading past my tower. Toward the ranger station. Toward safety. “Another five minutes and I would have been, Billy. I’ve got my Jeep and I was just about to haul ass for the ranger station,” I replied. “What’s your status?” There was a moment of silence and I wondered briefly if he’d even heard me. But then he answered. “I’m not doing too hot, John. I’m in my tower, but that thing hurt me. I’ve lost a bit of blood and have been drifting in and out. I’ve patched myself up as best I could, but I can’t stop the bleeding from my leg.” I frowned and closed my eyes a moment, asking a question that I was pretty sure I knew the answer to. “Are you able to get to your Jeep?” I thought I heard a coughing bark of laughter before he answered. “I don’t think so. I’m pretty banged up.” “What happened, Billy?” “The sonofabitch got into my tower. I managed to get off a shot at it, but not before it got the jump on me,” he explained. “It took off before it did me in, so I think I hit it. I don’t know where it is now, though. My tower is wide open, though, and it hasn’t come back, so maybe it’s dead.” I doubted that. Things never work out that simple. “Are you stable, Billy? Can you be moved?” Another silence, and then, “I know what you’re thinking, John. Turn your Jeep east and haul ass to the ranger station. That’s an order.” I dropped my forehead to the steering wheel, closing my eyes and cursing. It would have been easier if Billy hadn’t radioed me. I know it’s selfish. I know I’m an asshole for even thinking it, but I could have been blissfully out of range if he had only waited another ten minutes. I could still put the throttle down and get out of here. I could still race for the ranger station and have them mobilize a chopper to come back for Billy. But they were at least an hour away. Factor in the spin-up and travel time for the helicopter, and you’re talking more like an hour and a half before anyone gets to him. He didn’t sound good. Something told me it was unlikely he would last that amount of time. I could still turn left. I’d likely live, but could I live with myself, knowing that I left Billy to die alone in his tower? What if our situations had been reversed? Sure, I might be saying the same words he was saying now, but in my heart, I’d be pleading for that voice on the radio to help me. I couldn’t imagine being in his position – lying there, hurt and bleeding out. Knowing that his safe haven was wide open, and that *thing* was out there somewhere. Look, I know what you’re going to say. I know what you’re probably already saying. “Don’t be a dumbass. This is exactly why everyone dies in a horror movie!” I get it. Believe me, I get it. But this isn’t a movie, and my friend was lying there dying in his shack. If I could get to him and get him into the Jeep, we could both be out of here, leaving all this twisted nightmare bullshit behind us. “Billy, I’m headed your way. Get ready, because we’re going to wrestle you down the stairs and into my Jeep as quickly as we can,” I said, cranking the wheels to the right and taking the western trail with more speed than I should have. “John, I gave you an order. Get out of here now.” Despite the situation, I managed a sardonic grin as my rig bucked and bounced over the uneven trail. “Billy, I’d like to take this opportunity to officially tender my resignation from the fire watch. Now shut your mouth and conserve your strength; I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.” \* Fifteen minutes turned out to be a pretty good guess and before long I skidded to a halt outside Tower 12, next to Billy’s ride. I opened the door and stepped out into the quiet air, my handgun coming out of its holster and held before me like some sort of shield. I took a quick moment to let my eyes roam over the surrounding woodlands for any sign of movement before quickly jogging around my Jeep and towards the compound’s entrance. I passed through the open doorway, taking note of the heavy chain link gate that was laying twisted fifteen feet inside of the fence. Another dozen paces and I was at the base of the stairs, craning my neck to make sure nothing was awaiting me above. I keyed the mic at my shoulder and said in a low voice, “Billy, I’m outside of your tower right now, heading up. For Christ’s sake, don’t shoot me!” I turned the volume on the speaker down just in time for his response. “Damn it, John, I told you to leave.” But despite his words, the gratitude and relief were clear in his tone. I started up the stairs, revolver still held at the ready as my other hand ran lightly along the railing. My eyes were drawn to the red-black spots staining the gray paint of the steel steps. I found even more of the viscous fluid on the railing as I continued my ascent. Blood, but not Billy’s. *Good. I hope that fucker is laying in the woods, breathing its last breath.* He definitely hit it, but I had no way of telling how seriously it was hurt. In a human, bright red blood indicated an arterial bleed, which was typically a fairly significant injury. With this thing, who knew what black-red meant? I climbed the rest of the staircase as it wound around the tower and stopped just below the open trapdoor. “Billy?” I called out cautiously. A pause, then came his reply, shaky and with a wheezing sound that I didn’t like at all, “How do I know it’s you? Say something that this fucker couldn’t have heard you say before.” “I’ve always admired and respected you,” I answered without hesitation. “Asshole,” he said under his breath. “Come on up.” I took another couple steps, cautiously poking my head through the trapdoor. Billy was sitting upright, more or less, resting his back against the doorframe of his shack and aiming his own handgun generally in my direction. As soon as he saw my face, he dropped his hand to his side, the stainless steel barrel clanging against the metal walkway. As I stepped fully through the trapdoor, I noted two things immediately. Firstly, there was a significant amount of that black-red ooze splattered around. Secondly, I realized how badly injured Billy was. His face had gone gray with a sickly paleness, and his breaths came in ragged hitches. Blood-soaked bandages wrapped both forearms and the side of his face was covered with a crimson rag, taped haphazardly down. His entire khaki parks shirt was painted in a hellish tie-dye of shades of red. But it was his leg that worried me most. A tourniquet had been tied around his thigh near his groin, but the pants leg was a cherry red below that, and was glistening in the late morning light. “Jesus, Billy,” I exclaimed, holstering my gun and rushing to his side. He waved me off as I knelt beside him. “I know. It looks bad. Save it for later. Let’s get out of here before that thing decides to come back for another round.” I nodded and stood again, taking a quick glance past him and into his shack. A twin to my own tower normally, Billy’s looked like a warzone now. His table and desk had both been overturned and smashed, along with his base set radio. On the floor nearby was a satellite phone, its antenna and display obviously smashed during the attack. Lifting his arm over my head, I helped him to his feet. He grimaced in pain, but threw his remaining strength in with mine, and we began the precarious descent through his trapdoor. “Did you at least get to make your phone call?” I asked him as we took the steps carefully and agonizingly slow. He shook his head. “It got here just as I was getting ready to. It was using your voice, telling me that you were from the parks service and that you were here to help.” He looked at me with a shaken astonishment. “It sounded just like you, John, but when I looked over the catwalk railing down at it…” He winced again as we half-stumbled on a step. Almost there. “John,” he continued, “*holy hell*. I’ve never seen anything like it.” I shook my head as we reached the bottom step and moved onto the rain-soaked ground and grunted with exertion. “Save it, Billy. We have a long ride ahead of us – plenty of time for that later.” He just nodded as I maneuvered him around the passenger side of my Jeep and helped him climb in. Once he was in, I hurried back around to the driver’s door and got in, starting the engine as I pulled the door closed behind me. Throwing it into reverse, I felt the wheels break loose as I stepped on the gas with a bit too much enthusiasm. I swung the 4x4 around and put it into drive, pointing it back towards my tower, and beyond, safety. I only had a heartbeat’s warning from Billy before I saw it, barreling from the underbrush at us. It threw itself, a great mass, crashing into the side of the Jeep and Billy scrambled to get away from it, damn near climbing over the center console in the process and knocking my hands off the wheel in his panic. The Jeep swung wildly left and I stomped down on the brakes to avoid careening off into the trees. One of the front wheels dipped off the road and the steel bumper crashed through a small cluster of oak saplings, halting us abruptly and stalling the engine. Everything went silent in that moment as we froze. My breath hitched in my lungs and my eyes widened in shock as I laid eyes upon this abomination for the first time. My first impression was that it was much larger than I had thought, but the nightmare visage before me eclipsed such a pedestrian observation. The thing stood in the middle of the trail still, shaking its head as if trying to recover its senses after the collision with the two-ton vehicle. It looked vaguely humanoid in a sense, but it walked on four limbs clearly proportioned to such a task. It was hairless and with mottled pink-gray skin stretched tight over muscles, bones, and odd, unidentifiable bulges. The limbs seemed to have joints that bent in all the wrong directions and ended in what should have been claws. But instead of the distinctive keratin-composed sharp nails that seem so familiar in the natural world, these seemed to be extensions of the creature’s skeletal structure, protruding painfully through its veiny translucent hide. But worst of all was the bulbous and disproportionately large head that topped an oddly gaunt-appearing neck. It was oblong and reminded me of the shape of a feline skull in general appearance. Its maw seemed a jagged tear across its face, with ill-fitting and chaotically positioned teeth that didn’t seem to allow the mouth to close properly. I couldn’t see any eyes, but where they should have been were instead two bulbous and cyst-like organs, seeming to bulge and flatten in a slow rhythm, as if bladders filling with air or liquid. I reeled back in revulsion as it turned its sightless head in our direction searchingly. Flaps of skin on either side of its malformed snout opened slowly like some obscene blossom composed of milky gray bat wings, and I had the sense that it was using them to try to somehow locate us. It was then I saw where Billy’s shot had struck the creature in the face. One of the snout flaps was nearly completely severed, hanging limply in contrast to its sibling, and a gouge furrowed by the bullet’s travel creased along the right side of the thing’s head, piercing and ravaging the bulbous organ on that side and leaving it a deflated sack. When it turned its head farther in our direction, I could see clearly where it had bled significantly from the shot, but was horrified to see that the wound had already sealed itself and a shiny silver scar was left to mark the incident. “I knew I hit you, you bastard,” Billy whispered, half to himself. The mimic stopped its motion, and we watched as the uninjured bladder on its head expanded like a half-filled party balloon. It dipped its head a bit and we saw two membranous slits in the top of its skull dilate. A moment later, the twisted sound of a human voice assaulted our ears. "*I know you’re out there!*” The voice was unmistakably Billy’s but was distorted and wrong. I thought that the wound from his gunshot probably had something to do with that. The thing raised its head again, turning a bit more in our direction, and took a few experimental steps forward. Again, it paused and lowered its head. This time we heard what sounded like the pained roar of a bear, almost perfectly replicated, except for that same distortion that we had heard previously. Had this thing killed a bear? I held my breath as we watched it again raise its head and take a few more contemplative steps in our direction, slowly swinging its grotesque snout back and forth. I could see how the flaps of skin that were flared open where its nose should have been twitched minutely back and forth, and I felt like it was using them to listen for us. “It knows we’re here somewhere, but it can’t see us,” whispered Billy, leaning close. “But if it gets close enough, I’m thinking we’re done-for.” I looked over at Billy and realized that there was no way he’d be able to make a run for it in his condition. From the look of the thing growing ever closer to where we cowered in the Jeep, I thought it was likely we didn’t have much time before it got close enough to hear our breathing or heartbeats, or whatever, even inside the 4x4. When that happened, I knew what would come next. Billy closed his eyes a moment and turned to me. There was something in his eyes then, some sort of acceptance that I didn’t like one bit. “Get ready with that cannon,” he whispered. “You’re only going to get one chance at this fucker.” “What are you talking about?” I asked. A moment later, I had my answer. Billy took a deep breath and mustered every bit of his strength, flinging the door open and staggering out of the Jeep. “I’m right here, asshole!” he shouted at the thing, limping weakly across the road away from the Jeep. The mimic whipped its head in his direction instantly, but tilted its head to the side, seemingly momentarily puzzled at this unexpected turn of events. Billy held his own magnum in his hand, but he was too weak to raise it towards the beast. Still, he pulled the trigger and a resounding boom seemed to shake the air. The mimic flinched at the deafening sound of the gunshot, the flaps of membrane at its snout snapping shut protectively, but its stunned hesitation didn’t last very long. In an instant, faster than I would have thought possible, it launched itself on powerful limbs at Billy, knocking him to the ground and tearing at him with teeth and claws. I heard my friend start screaming then, a horrible, soul-rending sound that I’ll never forget as long as I live. But now was my chance, and I took it. I swung the door and stepped out of the Jeep, my gun coming free of its holster in the same movement. The creature was preoccupied with what was left of Billy, but as soon as I brought the gun up and thumbed back the hammer, its head whipped around at me. It crouched like a compressed spring as it prepared to launch, but I was quicker. The report of the gunshot was incredible, and the recoil of the powerful round rocked my wrist back painfully. The beast staggered and I saw a burst of blood and tissue explode from the wound near where its shoulder met its neck. It howled out an otherworldly cry, sounding like a bedlam mixture of man and beast, but though the wound seemed terrible, it tried once again to throw itself at me. I was set in my course, though, and took step after step towards the creature, pulling the trigger again and again until the gun ran dry and all I was left with was the clicking of the hammer and the high-pitched ringing in my ears. The acrid smell of gunpowder stung my nose and by the time I finally stopped, I found myself within only a few feet of the horrid thing. Six blackened holes stippled the neck and torso of the creature where the bullets had entered, and I knew that the destruction of their exits on the opposite side would be far worse. The mimic lay sprawled across the ruined body of Billy Johnson, its weight crushing what whatever had been left of my friend. Black-red blood spread out from beneath the thing’s bulk like an oil spill across a smooth floor. I noted with some muted surprise that the creature still twitched and slowly flexed its powerful muscles, and a wheezing sound was quietly emanating from the slits on the top of its skull. I holstered my empty handgun and scanned around the sodden ground for what I knew was there. A moment later I spotted it – Billy’s own magnum, laying half buried in the muck where it had been torn from his grip under the weight of the monster. I snatched it up and shook it clear of most of the mud and grass. Opening the cylinder, I saw that only one unfired round remained. That was enough, though. I approached the horror before me without apprehension or pause, my eyes focused on this thing that had caused such pain and terror. I thumbed the hammer back and placed the muzzle against the mimic’s head, which still convulsed with some small remaining life. I didn’t know if it would be able to heal from the wounds I had already inflicted – logic told me it was unlikely, but the silvery scar I had seen from Billy’s previous encounter caused me to question everything I thought was possible. I felt the tremors from the creature vibrate through the gun as the barrel rested against its skull, right between where its eyes should have been. I tensed my finger on the cool steel of the trigger and the crack of the gunshot echoed through the forest. It was done. But even as I walked back numbly to the Jeep and restarted the engine, I wondered if that was true. I thought back to the journal I had read, written more than a hundred and thirty years before, and how it had alluded to tales of this creature going back long before then. As I drove the Jeep along the rough and winding service road, I wondered at the possibility that what we encountered was the only one of its kind. That this same beast had somehow terrorized cultures separated from each other by great time and distance, spawning the legends that the author of the journal and his companions had pursued. It didn’t seem likely. And now the door was open. [x](https://youtu.be/80EpjGkUqMU)

I HAVE TO GET RID OF THIS GUITAR I FOUND [PART SIX]

y4voci

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y4voci/i_have_to_get_rid_of_this_guitar_i_found_part_six/

“I recently found a lead that might help in the search for my brother, William “Wills” Forte. A journal he had written, along with a cassette that was filled with what can only be described as very unusual field recordings. Kirk Hammett has agreed to quickly transpose the less complex portions of the cassette while keeping the integrity of the original field recordings intact. These you can play or loop alongside the reading of each part, to create the appropriate mood for these journal entries. We still advise you take precautions before listening to the recordings.” – Abigail Forte [Music for Part Six](https://www.tiktok.com/@kirkhammett/video/7154814714780994862?is_from_webapp=1&sender_device=pc&web_id=7152156056063690282) [part one](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xav0st/i_have_to_get_rid_of_this_guitar_i_found_part_one/) [part two](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xgp3yy/i_have_to_get_rid_of_this_guitar_i_found_part_two/) [part three](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xmw54i/i_have_to_get_rid_of_this_guitar_i_found_part/) [part four](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xsxtj2/i_have_to_get_rid_of_this_guitar_i_found_part_four/) [part five](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xyv5y7/i_have_to_get_rid_of_this_guitar_i_found_part_five/) PART SIX : Lost in the Fire Lands Since we’re getting close to the ending, at least this ending, I’ll take you back to the beginning. That dark shape, remember? Made of shadows and pretending to be human. By the way, it’s still hovering in the doorway, still trying to convince me of things I do not want. \~ Wills, you can still join us \~ I haven’t slept since I started writing this. According to the cracked cheap alarm clock by the bed it’s three am, and I’ve realized two things. First, Corso underestimated who he was dealing with. This guitar thing is tearing me apart, but it’s still just an addiction. I’ve gone through worse addictions and made it out alive. This demon has its claws in my soul, but Cristopher had my heart, and I’m not letting some guitar shaped boogeyman define my destiny. It's going to be a struggle though; Hell may seem like a horrible concept, but if I don’t get that guitar back, I’m going to end up in a place that’s much worse than hell. But you want to know how I got here. I’ve been hiding out in this small cabin in the mountains by Eldridge, California, for a couple of weeks now. I’ve also been trying to go cold turkey before I start out again. It’s hard, we’re all healing, but these wounds burn deep. Wounds from that hellish confrontation outside of Las Vegas when we were surrounded by demons in the Valley of Fire. \*\*\*\* It was like a scene out of some old Western film, riding into the canyon at sunset, but instead of horses kicking up the dust in some slow-motion sequence, it was an old beige 1979 Dodge. We had no idea what we were looking for, but I could feel the pain I had earlier building, in my gut clenching and twisting. As we passed a large grouping of the colorful sandstone formations the pain grew unbearable. “Stop! Here.” I felt like I couldn’t breathe, but as Hawkes pulled over to the side of the dusty road, I managed to get out. Sara and the Detective followed me as I slightly stumbled towards the wall of rock. The air was still. It was that time of the day when the sun’s golden rays hit the cliffs of rock and red sandstone, painting a picture of a world on fire. Then the pain hit again, and I fell, clutching my stomach. I heard Sara cry out, and Detective Hawkes knelt in front of me, a look of concern flashing across his face as he put a hand on my shoulder to steady me. “I felt that too, it’s here.” Sara said, standing behind me. “Where?” Detective Hawkes asked, standing to turn in a tight circle. The glint of sun catching on something metallic in the face of the rock wall caught my eye, a line of mineral deposit cutting close to the surface, but the shape was not random. It was a doorway made up of thin silvered lines of a mineral ore interspersed among the layers of gleaming red stone. “There.” I pointed. Detective Hawkes and Sara stood next to me, following my point, but neither of them seemed to see what I saw. I approached the design, traced it with my finger, “It’s like a door, carved into the sandstone.” I looked back. Detective Hawkes shrugged and shook his head. Sara came closer and put her hands on the stone. “I feel something, but I don’t see what you’re seeing.” Hit by another burst of pain, I fell to my knees, and that’s when I saw the engraving at the foot of the cliff. “Aqua regia.” I whispered, tracing the outline with my finger, remembering Octavia scratching the same shape on the back of the guitar. “What did you say?” Sara asked, startled. “There’s a symbol here. It matches one on the back of the guitar.” I told her. She got a pen and notebook from Detective Hawkes and scribbled something on the paper. She held it up to me and I nodded, “Same symbol. You really can’t see it?” “It’s alchemical, hidden to most of us. You can probably see it because of the connection you have with the guitar.” I wished Octavia was with us. “So what does it mean?” I asked Sara. “It means we need to knock on the door.” She drew another symbol on the paper. And handed me a rock shard from the ground at her feet. “Draw this in front of you, the symbol for mercury.” It was a circle, with a cross underneath and what looked like horns above. As soon as I finished scratching it in the rock, the outlined doorway grew brighter and the silvery mineral in the rock started to melt away, turning to a wave of sand that crashed at our feet. We were standing at the entrance to a cave built into the sandstone formation. The detective started forwards, pushing ahead of me. “Hawkes!” I shouted, “It’s a trap.” “No kidding.” Detective Hawkes grumbled, pushing past me while pulling a gun out from under his jacket. I followed him past the edge of the wall. It felt like the air became suddenly thicker, harder to breath and hotter. It was like walking out of the desert into a sauna, and it smelled of sulfur. So strong that all three of us covered our noses with the backs of our hands. In the back of my mind, I noticed that the pain, the hunger, the claws that had been tearing at me almost consistently for the past few days, had lessened. I had a feeling that meant I was close enough to the guitar and that it no longer felt the need to pull me. We were attached. It felt like the first hit of heroin after a month without. Like chasing the dragon all over again. I was so distracted by the absence of pain that I failed to notice the figure at the far end of the cavern. Hawkes saw her first. “Abbie!” I yelled out, as Hawkes ran towards her. She was standing, head down, arms behind her back, as if she had been tied to an invisible post. I ran, following Sara and the detective towards Abbie. “Wait!” Sara cried out, “The ground!” She stopped, pointing towards Abbie’s feet. She was standing inside a circle of symbols carved into the earth. Symbols like the ones from outside. I stopped, but Hawkes didn’t. As he went to pull her out, he screamed and stumbled backwards. His jacket burst into flames, and he quickly dropped to the ground to extinguish it in the dirt. Woken to action, Sara and I helped him up, made sure he was okay, and I turned to Abbie who was looking up at us groggily. She looked slightly drugged. “Abbie. Are you okay?” I asked, not wanting to get too close to the circle. “I’m not hurt, but I don’t think I’m okay. Are you?” She said, her voice quavering. She had her arms in front of her now, but she was still trapped within the enchanted circle. “I’ve been better.” I looked around. “Where are the others?” “Dad...” she sobbed, stopped, started again, “Dad went down there,” she pointed towards a pathway off to her left. Another cave entrance that I hadn’t even noticed before. It twisted into shadow. “Then what?” I asked. “Then two others passed by, following. I don’t think he knew they were there, but I’m pretty sure he knew they were coming. They both looked at me but didn’t say anything. One of them stuck out its tongue, it was so long, Wills, it tried to lick me.” Abbie’s face held a look of disgust, and she shuddered at the memory. “I think it was the one Octavia called Corso, the one with blue hair, right?” I looked over at Hawkes, “I don’t think that gun is going to help much.” “Wills?” Abbie asked. “He was going to kill me. I’m sure of it. But then he said you would be better. I just need you to get me out of here and then we can leave.” “It’s not that simple, Abbie. He has the guitar, and if he figures out the right way to play it, that guitar is going to kill me. Even if it doesn’t, I can’t let him have the power that’s in that guitar. It’s too dangerous. I will die before I let that happen.” “Wills ... what happened to him?” “I don’t know for sure, but whatever it is, I’m not going to let it happen to either one of us.” I said. “And Octavia? I remember that vile thing. It took her, and Mag.” “I don’t know,” Abbie paused, her voice heavy with sadness, “He grabbed me, and I don’t know what happened after that. You were out, the blackness went into the guitar, and that’s all I remember. When I came to, I was here, and I don’t know how to get out.” Sara, meanwhile, had been slowly walking around Abbie, studying the symbols on the ground. “I think I get it.” She said, standing. “Abbie is surrounded by two different levels of alchemical symbols. The inner ring, where Hawkes got burned, are the elements. He came in on the fire side. Going from there, clockwise, you have water, air, and earth. Not sure what defenses those areas will have, but I’m sure they’re all as potent as the fire.” “What’s on the other ring?” Abbie asked. Sara walked around the circle again, “Those are all different compounds, but I’m not sure what they mean. I know one is silver, another is sulfur. Then there are a few different metals.” “And that’s the same one I saw outside,” I said, pointing to the aqua regia. “Of course, that’s right. And that means that one,” Sara pointed to a similar shape, “is aqua fortis. There should be a third water symbol outside of the circle. Check near the entrance to the cave.” Hawkes nodded, and moved towards the sandstone wall, eyes on the ground in front of him. “Found it!” We stood over the small V shaped carving. “Now what?” I asked. “Now we work the magic.” Sara said, smiling for the first time since we’d met. Using the heel of her right foot, she sketched a circle around the aqua vitae symbol and then crossed that with two straight lines, each leading to the edge of the circle around Abbie. One went to the regia, the other to the fortis. “I hope this works...” Sara said, then knelt to draw a symbol over each line. “Purify,” she whispered, “and dissolve.” The circle in the ground flashed so bright we all had to shield our eyes, and then it was gone, and Abbie fell into my arms. “You need to go back out to the car.” I said. “No, I can’t. Not now. We go together, we fight our father together.” “Damn it...” I started. Abbie stood tall and shut me up with a look. I knew that look well. It was fight time. “Right.” Hawkes looked at us, a grim expression on his face. “I hate to be ‘that guy’, but do we have any weapons that might actually work here? I’m guessing my gun won’t stand a chance in hell of hurting a demon, right?” “I have the gris-gris bag my sister gave me." I said, “It’s not a weapon, but it’s powerful. I’m pretty sure without it I’d have been suffering a lot more from the guitar withdrawals. Abbie should hold on to it for now. I have a feeling the guitar doesn’t want me dead quite yet.” Sara put her hand up to the necklace around her neck and took it off. She handed two little charms to each of us. “These aren’t weapons either, but they will help protect us. A little.” “Great. A useless gun, a bag of magic leaves, and some silver trinkets. Demons gonna be tremblin’.” The Detective grumbled and started walking towards the shadowed cave entrance. “Is he always like this?” I ask Sara. She nods. \*\*\*\* We must have been walking for fifteen or twenty minutes through the darkness, occasionally hit with a sparkle of light from silver veins running along the rough corridor. Then we heard the sound and saw a flicker of light, like a flame coming from up ahead. It was the guitar; I recognized the tone immediately. A soft strum, but it reverberated right through me. Cautiously, we turned down a last tight bend in the cave and found ourselves looking down into a huge cavern, sunken down about six feet below the opening we stood in. There was a sharp cracking sound, like rocks breaking, and I almost shouted in fright as suddenly my father stood in front of me with a huge grin on his face. I stared at him, and he didn’t blink or look away, just kept grinning. He looked even younger than the last time I’d seen him. Then the smile vanished as he stepped backwards into the cavern, beckoning for us to follow. “I knew we’d get the family reunion I always wanted.” He grinned. Behind him, on the floor of the cavern, Corso paced in a circle, strumming the guitar softly. He stopped playing for a second to raise his hand in a backwards wave but didn’t stop and fell back into his walk and strum rhythm. My father moved swiftly down towards Corso, and then someone else moved past me. Detective Hawkes with his gun out, pointing it down towards Corso. “Don’t...” I started, but he wasn’t listening. He fired twice as Corso circled back towards us. Corso jerked backwards, hit in the chest, and then stopped in his tracks. He slowly raised his head to look at us, and then started laughing. “Well, good evening to you, friends! Join us!” He called out. My father now standing next to him. Hawkes looked at the gun, then back at Corso. “Damn. Well, I had to try.” “Wait,” Abbie whispered. “Did he say ... us?” “Yeah. He did. This is not going to be good.” I responded, taking a few steps forward and peering down into the cavern. There was a spiral carved into the ground, covered with alchemical symbols and strange looking letters. Like an alphabet of the damned spelling out our destruction. “Aramaic.” Sara whispered. “Great.” I returned, more concerned with what was at the center of the spiral. It was Mael. Bound by the same invisible force that had held Abbie, but, I guessed, far stronger. His eyes were closed, his head was thrown back, his arms crossed in front of him. And behind him a figure stood in the shadows, watching the proceedings. I didn’t recognize him, but I was pretty sure I knew who it was. He noticed, or possibly felt, my gaze upon him and stepped forwards into the light. His jet-black hair was a stylized mess and seemingly unaffected by the heat, he was wearing a perfectly fitted red velvet tuxedo blazer over a black buttoned shirt. He tilted his head slightly and then shot a dazzling smile towards us. “Mister Forte, so glad you could join us. I am Mister Velvét, but please. Call me Harry.” I ignored him and turned my attention to Corso. “What happened to Octavia?” Corso stopped and turned to face us. “Oh, my dear little mortal, why such concern for someone who has no soul? She went home to her own little private hell. Ha! Soon, I’m sure, where you’ll all be joining her in the endless, eternal, dark pits of her own suffering.” He spun on his heels to face Mael. His back to us. “But now that we’re all here, let the performance begin.” “Too bad these aren’t silver bullets.” Detective Hawkes mumbled. “Silver is for Werewolves, not demons.” I replied. “Wait,” Sara stared at us, “What about Iron? And Salt, right? I mean, I’ve never actually tried to kill a demon before, but it’s supposed to be like cold iron and salt. There’s enough material in this cave to create an arsenal of ammunition. I just need the right symbols, and a little time.” Corso had moved back to stand beside Harry, behind Mael, who remained completely unresponsive. Harry nodded, and Corso handed him the guitar. I could see Harry step back, as if shocked, but he held the instrument tight. “What’s he doing?” Abbie asked. “Corso can’t play the guitar the way it needs to be played. Not for this.” I started to comprehend what was going on. “Only a human player can invoke the power in the guitar, and the cost is greater than what my dad’s willing to pay. That’s why they got Harry to do it.” “But won’t it do to him what it did to you, and your father?” Sara asked. “Yes. But some people think they can handle the power... the addiction.” I stare at my hands, shaking violently. I can feel the guitar pulling at me. “But I know some people can’t.” I looked at Sara, “You make your weapons, I’ll buy you some time.” Before anyone could object, I slid down the side of the cavern and made my way towards the spiral. I had a feeling that I wouldn’t be stopped, and I was right. My father and Corso, and behind them, Harry Velvét, stood and silently watched me. I was supposed to be there. They wanted me there. I was a part of their madness. Then I realized that they’d lured me here to complete their depraved act, using the guitar to beckon me forward. As I moved closer, I was greeted by a heated wind of foul-smelling wind. It moved around me, following the lines engraved in the red sandstone floor. I almost threw up but held steady. My eyes were watering a little, but once I pushed through the wind it was calm on the other side. “Are you sure your sister won’t join us?” my father asked. I looked back at the entrance of the cavern. It was about forty feet away above a fifteen-foot curve that seemed a lot steeper than it had when I came down. Abbie and the Detective stood, watching, but there was no sign of Sara. “Leave her out of this. I’m here. You don’t need her.” “No, I suppose I don’t anymore.” He turned away from me and gestured for the guitar. Harry walked over, carrying it gently. Not like it was delicate, but like it was painful. Harry handed it to the demon. Now it felt like my head was on fire and about to explode, “I was hoping I wouldn’t have to play it, but I still get it when you’re done, right Corso?” “You will get what you paid for, human.” Corso grinned, grabbed the guitar, and handed it to me. I can’t even begin to describe the ecstatic shock that coursed through my entire body when my fingers wrapped around the neck of that instrument. A feeling of falling through dark grey clouds. Smiling, watching me bliss out in the damnable energy of the guitar, Corso moved to the back of the cavern where there was a grouping of stalagmites that formed a sort of seat, almost a throne. Corso took a seat on it, ruler of his own little empty corner of hell. “Play us a song, human.” He bellowed dramatically, then belched some blue fluid. I held the guitar, still on a high from the dark surge I felt flowing through me. I wondered if the gris-gris bag was doing anything to diminish what I felt, or if it was doing nothing, because this felt so good. I felt untouchable, but I knew I had to be clever about this. “The Maelstrum?” I called back. Corso looked pleased. “You remembered. But no, not yet. I’ll show that soon. Just play what the guitar shows you.” I realized now I didn’t have a choice. I needed to play along until I knew how to get us all out. So play I did. I start with just a simple rhythm in the key of E, letting the sound and tone guide me. I close my eyes, feel the chords push out, hear the melody take shape. I hit a b5 chord, I feel the ground shake. I don’t stop playing, but my eyes flash open and meet Corso’s. “They’re coming.” Corso gleefully exclaims. I see Mael’s head move slightly, but his eyes remain closed. Harry Velvét steps to the side, looking a little less pleased than he had been. “Corso?” He looks at his blue-haired companion. “What is this?” “One little cursed guitar isn’t quite enough for this particular exorcism.” Corso deadpans, and while remaining seated he lifts his hands up to start chanting along to the rhythm I couldn’t stop playing. With each downstroke I hit, another strange syllable was uttered, and with every utterance a small crack appears in the spiraling circle surrounding Mael. And out of each crack a shadow starts to drip upwards. A slow steady stream of nightmare black droplets hitting the rock ceiling to form quivering mounds of shapeless onyx. Soon the vaulted ceiling is circled by a gathering of obsidian stalactites made from some kind of demonic sludge. Then those shapes slowly elongate until a circle of shadows, slightly humanoid in shape surround Mael. As I played the shapes reverberated and responded with the notes in different tones. Dark ominous tones that caused cold shivers to run down my arms and chest while beads of sweat formed to run down my face and neck. Corso let out a delighted laugh, “Ha! Look, it’s the rest of your band!” Suddenly he stood up, making a grand gesture with his arms above his head, “Strike up one for the band! Ladies and gents, the Maelstrum can now begin!” As the tones circled around the cavern, a wind picked up behind them. A wind that carried the stench of rot and death with it. A wind that pushed the notes together into some stygian melody. The dark shapes swayed and pulsated. I watched, unable to stop my playing, as my father danced around them, his face shining in some twisted childlike glee. Corso, seated again, leaned forwards, watching the proceedings, and Mael slowly opened his eyes, and what he saw must have evidently struck a chord of terror deep within him, as his mouth opened up to let out a scream that cut through all the sounds like a sonic knife edge. A scream that stopped everything except for the sound of the guitar I held. I stepped closer, still playing. The shadows moved and gathered around me, a tightening circle. Corso stood on his stone throne and shouted out another string of words that seemed to push the shadows into a frenzy, and the thick noise started again, more dissonant and more frenzied. Mael looked up at me, his eyes burning red, dripping black tears. “Stop this.” He whispered. “I beg of you, human, before it’s too late.” “I can’t.” I replied. “Then you will burn with us all.” Mael uttered with defeat, his head falling, his body slumping forwards, but still held upright by some invisible force. Behind him and in front of me, Corso yelled unintelligible blasphemies into the void. My father echoed his shouts as he jumped up and down in front of the blue haired demon. A demon, I thought, gone mad. I saw out of the corner of my eye a movement and turned to see Harry Velvét scrambling up to the cave opening. I shouted his name, and he turned to look at me before pushing past Abbie and Detective Hawkes. “I didn’t sign up for this, my dear boy. Drop me a line if you make it out!” And then he was gone. “Hawkes!” I shouted, “You should go too! Take Abbie, get out now!” The detective started to shout something back, but I couldn’t hear him. I couldn’t hear anything other than my guitar, hitting a melody of torture and delight. I looked down, my fingers were raw and bleeding, but they never stopped playing. “This is it!” Corso shouted, moving towards me, through the swirl of sound. The black shapes were moving together, their cacophony doubling in intensity, long sinewy tendrils stretching out towards Mael. And I had found myself standing in the thick of it all, watching, playing, as that horrible but familiar thing started to move out from the guitar. The lower E string started to unravel, my fingers still plucking around it. The shadow and the string started to twine together and twisted, it cut through the air and curled around Mael’s neck. Shining silver and cutting into flesh. The shapes pushed in, slowly becoming one mass of darkness that moved around me. Mael’s eyes flashed open again, as the wire pulled against his throat. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. And then a sharp crack of thunder broke through the howling feedback, echoing through the cavern. Both Corso and I turned to face the source of the sound and saw Detective Hawkes standing at the base of the cave wall with my sister and Sara beside him. His gun pointed straight at us. “Stop this now, Corso.” Detective Hawkes shouted. “That’s still not going to do you any good, human. Your weapon is useless, remember?” “It was useless.” The detective smiled and pulled the trigger. The bullet flew straight towards us, whistling past my ear, and embedded itself in Corso’s forehead. Corso started to smile, but then stopped. His smile faded, his face took on a look of confusion, then as he put a hand to his head, a finger touching the hole the bullet had made, a look of fear and pain. Suddenly his skin changed to the same color as his hair. “What did you do?” He screeched, black ooze pushing out of the hole and around his finger. Dripping down into his eyes. “Your bullets can’t hurt me! What is this!” Sara took a step forward, as the detective raised the gun again. “They can if they’ve been transmuted into pure iron, laced with salt.” Corso’s eyes opened wide with incredulity and the Detective fired again. This time the bullet hit Corso in the left shoulder, and he spun around backwards before hitting the ground. He sat up, fast, and started screaming again, the same strange language, but the words were sharper, harsher. Staccato syllables coming out to stir up the shadows again. I had managed to stop playing the guitar, as if a spell had been broken when the bullet had buried itself into the demon’s head. My fingers were raw and bloodied, and I felt like I’d just run a marathon. And then I felt the shadows grab me. Wrapping around me and pulling me towards Corso. Mael was hurt, but struggling, trying to break the ties that bound him. The Detective, along with Sara and my sister, were hidden from view, obstructed by a pulsating inky wall that rose almost to the ceiling. Corso stood now, one arm pointing up, the other towards me. The sound was unbearable. I pushed my hands against my ears, but it made no difference. It was all around, and inside me. It sounded like a death scream. The foul curse of a thing in the guitar was being pulled out, and I could sense that it was against its own will. Corso wasn’t trying to just destroy Mael, he was trying to tear apart the Asag as well. And at this point I knew that if he succeeded, I’d die as well ... as would my father. “Samuel!” I shouted into the chaos, hoping he’d hear, praying he’d listen. “If Corso gets the guitar, we’re both dead. I know you don’t care about us, but are you willing to die for this?” I don’t know if my words got out past the noise; I was shaking as if I was being electrocuted, the guitar becoming a conduit between my soul, the demon inside, and whatever Corso was doing to pull it out. And then I saw her, Octavia. I saw her arms first, coming out of the black shadows, pulling herself out as if she had been swallowed by a pit of living tar and had to claw her way to the surface. Then her head, hair plastered against her face, followed by shoulders, waist, hips, until finally she stood before me, naked, dripping with that inklike ooze. “Miss me?” She quipped, then without waiting for a response, she turned abruptly, her arm swinging swordlike through the murky black wall behind her, splitting it in two. It fell like a dropped water balloon, splattering black liquid across the rocky floor. I heard a scream then, and it was my father. I could see him now that the wall of shadows had been broken. He was hanging on to Corso’s neck, trying to strangle him, or stop him from his incantations, but a shadow figure had pierced through his side, moving between his ribs and then down around his legs. And unlike the demons, my father still bled red. It was everywhere. I didn’t have the strength to do anything other than take a step towards them, and then fall to my knees. Corso pulled away from my father, who collapsed like a rag doll. Drained of blood and life. The demon shadow began slowly sucking him up while Corso started moving slowly towards me. I could tell he was in pain, but his hatred was stronger. His eyes were glowing blue. “You pitiful waste of flesh. How dare you get in my way. I will make you suffer for an eternity, and then I will make you suffer it all over again.” He started to rise, bringing all his strength to bear. His body elongating, his arms twisting out. He reached out for Octavia, grabbed her, and flung her aside, almost as an afterthought, while moving closer to me. She hit the side of the cavern and dropped to the ground. I saw her struggle to get to her feet again, and as she did, her face started to morph into a strange shape. But before I could figure out what was happening, I heard a shout behind me. “Wills, heads up!” It was my sister’s voice. I turned and saw the detective throw his firearm toward me in an underhanded arc. I caught the gun, and without any hesitation I swiveled back towards Corso and pulled the trigger. The iron bullet hit Corso dead center in the chest. He screamed in pain, yelled in anger, and began tearing away at his body in agonized frustration. He tore at his hair, pulling out chunks of the blue along with portions of his flesh underneath. It was like he was ripping a mask off, but the features under it were even more hideous. Knotted and bloody and pulsating mounds of blue bone mixed with flesh. The black winged shape that had been Octavia swooped towards him and tore at his already flayed flesh with razor talons. He screamed and tore back, and they both started twisting around and into each other while around us the thick dark waves of sound grew louder, pulsating and shaking the very ground we stood on. I felt it inside me, controlling me, pushing, pulling, squeezing, and caressing. Not my body but my very soul. The shadows started to merge with my blood, the sound filled my veins, the music slid against my mind, wrapping around my spine. And I felt that darkness stronger than anything I’d ever felt before. Deeper than drugs, deeper than love. I was being made one with oblivion. The dark shape came out of the guitar, but it was coming out of me as well. It slid and twisted and undulated towards Corso, who was now staggering around the cavern, a mess of alternating flesh. The blue human slabs being torn from his body and the shuddering bruised purple and blue mass that lay underneath. I felt everything leave me, and struggled to hold on to consciousness, but my legs faltered and gave way. As I collapsed and fell forward the guitar fell out of my hands, into the dirt. At that moment there was another sharp thunderclap, and lightning that glowed red shot from the center of the cavern up into the ceiling, shaking rocks and sharp stalactites loose. It sounded as if the entire cave they were in was going to split in two. The walls shook and a rumble started filling the cavern as Mael, who had freed himself from whatever alchemical spells had bound him, appeared before me, bent down, and picked up the guitar. I tried to stand, but all I could manage was to kneel, and shout out towards my sister and the others to get out. I don’t know if they heard me. I hoped they had. But Mael, with a smile, hit a chord on the guitar. A chord I couldn’t name if I tried. The tone tore through my mind, and I felt as if my grasp on reality was being torn apart. Note by note. My eyes blurred, my vision turning into a white tunnel, and all I could see was the guitar in front of me, being played by twisted fingers. “Wills... get ... Gris-Gris...” I heard a voice, those words, faint as if from a dream. “What?” I mumbled Louder now, “Get rid of the Gris-Gris!” It was Octavia, coming towards me, coming for Mael. I shook my head, not understanding. Get rid of what protected me? “Do it!” Octavia was upon us now, her talons driving into Mael’s shoulders. With what little strength I had left, I pulled the small bag out of my pocket and tossed it aside. As I did so, Octavia shook Mael while lifting him up. The guitar fell from his grip and to the ground. Behind him I could see what was left of Corso struggling in dirt that had been turned into mud by the blood from my father. The bag hit the ground, and almost instantly, two charcoal shadows slid through the guitar and pushed between my lips, down my throat. I choked and gagged, trying to force breath around the thickness of the shadow that was filling me up. The white tunnel shifted to red, and I stood, knowing that I was feeling the Asag taking place within me, and within the guitar. Connecting us. Allowing me to stand and play once more. I picked the guitar up. My sister, along with Sara and the detective were nowhere in sight, and I could only hope they had made it out. And then I played. The black shadows swayed and burned with midnight fire. I couldn’t tell if I was breathing air or shadow, but it didn’t matter. I’d never been able to make sounds like this before. Chords formed using configurations I didn’t know my fingers could grip, microtones that I didn’t know existed, let alone that could be played on this instrument. I created a dark world with the music, and the demon recreated that world within me. I was a cyclone of sound, pulling all that remained around me within to the now shimmering and pulsating sound hole of the guitar. The frets felt like razors on my already bleeding fingers, but it felt fantastic. The pain fueled the song, and the song ate the world. Corso was devoured, Mael shrieked, I drowned in the pain. Then silence. \*\*\*\* Hours, possibly days, later, my eyes opened. It was dark, but I could tell that I was in a small room, lying in a bed. I stood up, still dressed, and walked shakily towards the door. I seemed to be alone, and as I stepped out; I was hit by a vision of night. I was standing in front of a small cabin, surrounded by trees. The air was cool and above me I saw nothing but the night sky and a million stars. No cave, no shadows, no screaming. No sound at all. “You’re up.” A familiar voice said. I turned to see Octavia sitting in a chair on the porch. “What happened? Where am I?” I ask, “What day is it?” “You’ve been out for a few days, but you’re safe. We’re in California. Eldridge, to be exact. After you, and the Asag, of course, managed to take Mael down, I got you out of the caves. Your sister and the other two mortals were waiting. We put the Gris-Gris back in your pocket, weaved some alchemical invocations to help strengthen your psyche and your soul, and brought you here to recuperate.” Octavia explained. “Your friends will be back soon; they’ve gone to get some supplies in the town.” “The guitar?” I ask. Octavia looked at me for a few seconds before speaking, “Harry Velvét was also waiting. We made a deal. Along with a very nice sum of money ... you won’t have to worry about your finances for a while ... he also gave us a powerful Tibetan amulet crafted from silver and bronze. That allowed us to stave off the demonic infection, leaving you strong enough to continue without the guitar.” I stared at her, letting the words sink in. “You sold the guitar? You saved me? But Lillian...” I started. “Stop.” Octavia held a hand up. “It was my choice. You have not lost the guitar, and the guitar no longer controls you. You are still connected to it, as your father was, but hopefully you will not turn out like him, and be able to keep and maintain the power without corruption. It doesn’t matter where the guitar is, the Asag is part of it, and still part of you. Close your eyes, feel it, hear it, but never listen to it.” “I feel like my heart is breaking because perhaps yours can’t.” I take a deep breath, trying to do as she says. I sense the darkness in the center of my chest. It curls around, pushes against my heart, pulls at my arms. It feels like needles just under my skin but needles I can handle. I open my eyes and see a shadow behind Octavia, but it’s not hers. She sees my gaze shift, turns, but she can’t see what I see. Suddenly a black slab of tar melts and opens. I look, and it’s the Asag, but it’s also my father. It’s a murky portal into a demonic pit, and it wants me to dive in. But Octavia was right, it wasn’t pulling like it used to. It feels somehow muted. I can resist. I can fight. I can keep it in the abyss where it belongs. \*\*\*\* Now, Detective Hawkes and Sara have gone back to the east coast, but they’ve promised to keep in touch. Sara said she’ll try to find if there is a way to separate me from the demon without destroying me. Corso and Mael are, as far as I know, somewhere within the Asag’s endless chasm of existence. Mag, Octavia tells me, is alive and recovering in some nightmarish purgatory, and loves it. My sister is staying with me for another week or two, and it feels right, this family connection. And then there’s Octavia. I’ve finally realized that I can fix this. I don’t need the guitar, but I still feel it, and I think I know how to reunite Octavia and Lillian. Mom said never fall in love with someone who’s dead. I hope that doesn’t include demons, but maybe it does. Doesn’t matter now, though. I’m going to have to remember those four steps mom used to talk about. It’s probably time to start following them a little more strictly. I’m posting this in hopes that readers might be able to help me locate Mister Harry Velvét. I have to get back that guitar I found. \*\*\*\* Standing up I move outside. A breath of clean air, a stretch to the stars. “Are you finished, my little human?” A voice I instantly recognize asks quietly. I turn. She sits on the porch and watches me. I can’t tell in the darkness, but I’m pretty sure she’s smiling. ​ “This is where the journals end. Perhaps there will be no more. Perhaps this is actually only the beginning. I hope my brother is safe. Thank you. – Abigail Forte

The House of Attics and Basements [Part 5]

y513yc

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y513yc/the_house_of_attics_and_basements_part_5/

[Part One](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xsa3mq/the_house_of_attics_and_basements_part_1/) [Part Two](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xvk0pa/the_house_of_attics_and_basements_part_2/) [Part Three](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xxab73/the_house_of_attics_and_basements_part_3/) [Part Four](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y2lryb/the_house_of_attics_and_basements_part_4/) I stood in front of the clock, knife in hand. I had wanted to dismiss John Lewis’s diary as some kind of hallucination, but there was just too much I couldn’t explain. So much about my encounter with Emily had left me baffled–especially the way she had disappeared into the clock. John Lewis had claimed that the stranger he encountered had used the knife as a sort of key, inserting it into the center of the clock’s face. I touched my fingers softly to the cold glass, searching again for hidden ridges, but I came up empty. On the other side, there might be nothing. Or there could be Emily. Or the Traveler, waiting in the dark with his own glistening knife. Thinking of him, I started to sweat. Suddenly, it was like I was a boy again, watching him split the wallpaper in my bedroom with his razor sharp blade. Except in my imagination, it wasn’t wallpaper, but my skin, a wall of flash splitting clean down the center. I held the knife inches away from the glass, preparing to stab forward. For some reason, I felt an instinctual hesitation, the way you might feel before stabbing a living thing. I wondered, briefly, if my father had ever done this. Had he tried to travel through the clock, or had he only suspected that visitors came through it? My father was a success by all accounts. He’d taken a struggling farm and survived a few hard years, buying his neighbors’ farms for pennies on the dollar during drought years. Then the rains had come back, and everything seemed to break his way. Every crop he grew seemed to pay off better than expected, and after a few years a Big Ag company had offered to fold him into their business for an ungodly amount of stock. By the time he died, we were one of the richest families in the county. My father always credited his success to tenacity. He’d been the last man standing. The sole survivor. Of course, around town there were whispers. Too much luck for one man, people would say. Deal with the devil, whispered the old women in church. My father paid them no heed. He was the hero of his own story. Which is why I ended up being such a disappointment to him. “The Little Master,” he always called me, bitterly. He’d been right, of course. Even as I got older, I made a habit of giving up. I was a B student in high school and a middling athlete. In college, I changed majors half a dozen times before finally graduating with a trendy “self-designed” liberal arts degree. My father had declined to attend my graduation. He died shortly after that in an unexpected accident, falling down the house’s central stairs, his neck twisting around in an impossible angle. Any momentum I might have had in life seemed to leave me then. Maya had stuck with me for about a year after father’s death, seeing me through the grief. But I’m not sure that’s even what I’d been feeling. I was simply stopped. What did any of it matter, if my father wasn’t there to see? My father was a success, but he was no adventurer. If anything, I was surprised he hadn’t had the clock encased in a steel box. Maybe he had his reasons not to. I was no bold hero either, but here I stood, knife in hand. Maybe I just had less to lose. I thought of Emily. Then I stabbed the clock face. The glass gave way beneath the knife blade like jello, parting cleanly as it began to glow bright blue. My body began to tingle. Then everything went black. I found myself in a vaguely familiar room. Small windows lit the otherwise dark space. An ancient furnace, no longer used, sat dormant in the corner. The basement. My basement–or at least, one very much like mine. I looked back at the clock. Everything appeared the same as before, except for one key difference. Here, the hands pointed to eight. Before I could examine the clock further, I heard footsteps from above and heard the door to the main floor open. Light flooded down the stairs, and I quickly hid beneath the furnace. Above me, I watched as Emily started down the stairs. “I told you we’re not done talking,” came a man’s loud voice from behind her. “Just have your assistant take care of it,” Emily shouted back. “Like when she gave me my period talk.” “Now, Emily. Or you’ll regret it. I promise you.” She turned back upstairs and closed the door behind her, the room going dark again. Slowly, I crept up the dark staircase, listening to the sounds or arguing in the distance. Emily and the man walked in the direction of the front door, practically screaming at each other now. Then they headed outside. A minute later, I heard a car engine turn on. Then, all was silent. Quietly, I opened the door to the main house and peered inside. Here was the kitchen–my kitchen–and yet entirely different. A wall of cabinets had been removed to create a modern open floor plan flowing into the living room, and the oak cabinets had all been painted white, their antique brass knobs replaced with stainless steel. Out in the living room, a garish 80-inch TV was playing CNN at low volume for an audience of no one. Lining the staircase, the ancient portraits were gone, replaced with family photos: one of Emily in elementary school, and another of her posing with Maya Green. And then the one that made my heart stop: Emily, Maya, and me. At least, a version of me. He was maybe thirty pounds heavier, most of it muscle, with the kind of smile only successful people wear. A few more steps up, I found another photo of him, this one wearing a red tie in front of an American flag and a small engraving at the bottom of the frame reading, “Sen. Stephen Walker of Oregon.” In a strange stupor, I walked through the kitchen, looking for something to drink. But the liquor cabinet was full of tea tins, and the only drins in the fridge were cold-pressed juices. “You’re a long way from home,” came a voice from behind me. I turned to see a man in a gray suit. He wore dark glasses and a black facemask, obscuring his features, but I knew immediately who he was. I felt suddenly paralyzed, like I’d been caught breaking into my dad’s liquor cabinet and was about to catch the beating of a lifetime. “It’s funny, you know,” he said. “I never took you for one to get off the couch, much less to go traveling through clocks. But that’s the nice thing about this business, I suppose. The surprises.” He gestured to the grand kitchen around us. “So what do you think, Seven? Some people say one version of hell is when the person you became meets the person you could have been. So here he is, the Golden Boy, or at least, he thinks so. Senator Stephen Walker. Of course, he’s not done yet. Ambitious one, he is. Already got his eyes on the White House. Oh, I hope he makes it. I’ve always wanted to kill a president. Yes, I think we’ll give Senator Walker a little time to ripen, see what he becomes.” He took a step toward me, removing a poker from the fireplace. He swung it in lazy circles as he stepped toward me, his features inscuratable behind his mask. “But you, Seven, I could give you a hundred years, and you’d just spin around the drain like a little unflushable–” He was interrupted by the sound of the front door opening. Fast as a cat, he sprang up the stairs toward the attic, leaving the fire poker clattering on the kitchen floor in front of me. Still reeling, I ran to the walk-in pantry, closing the door behind me as quietly as I could. Through slats in the door, I peered out into the room. In walked Emily, a woman behind her who I recognized as Maya Green’s mother, Layla. “Just give him time,” Layla was saying. “The stresses that man deals with on a daily basis are well beyond–” But I could tell Emily wasn’t listening. Her eyes fixed on the poker in the center of the kitchen floor. She examined it for a moment, then looked directly at me, as if peering right through the pantry door. “I just need some time, Grandma,” she said. “Actually, there’s someone I need to talk to. Why don’t you go to your room? We’ll catch up soon.” As soon as Layla was gone, Emily walked right over and whispered through the slats. “I hope you know how stupid you were to come here. We’re dead now, both of us.” “I’m sorry,” I said. “It’s okay,” she said, smiling a little now. “It was probably going to happen anyway. It’s–it’s kind of sweet. You–well, other you, has never really taken any interest in me before, so it’s kind of a nice change.” She reached for the doorknob, and the darkness around me was split with a beam of light as the door opened. “You’d better come out of there. We should talk.” [Part Six](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/ya2n6n/the_house_of_attics_and_basements_part_6/)

I encountered a Wendigo while making a remote border crossing

y4yqng

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y4yqng/i_encountered_a_wendigo_while_making_a_remote/

We’ve got crows back at home. In my town we see them every day. Sometimes solo, sometimes in a group. I am well aware that a group of crows is referred to as a “murder” but despite this ominous label, they’re pretty shy and generally fly away at the first sign of danger. But the pair of big black birds circling the point across the lake were something else entirely. I know that around the Canadian border ravens become more common than crows, and this is what I suppose they were. But these were really big– too big, possibly bigger than an eagle. And as they circled the point, the calls they made were unnerving. Nothing like the “caw” of a crow, the sounds were screeching drawn out croaks, as though to make sure that every creature on the lake was aware of their presence. I kept quiet from my vantage point two hundred yards across the bay, and the travelers I had in my charge knew enough to keep still and silent. We were three quarters done with our journey that had begun at a clandestine location outside of Atikokan. I never thought I could become a smuggler, but here I was, tucked under ancient white pines with a man and woman who were essentially strangers to me. They watched the huge birds with me, whispering back in forth in their native language. I don’t know what they were saying but the look in their eyes showed their fear. And these people have seen things in their homeland bad enough for them to leave with nothing more than a few possessions, and then give all of their money to a stranger who arranged for me to take them through the wilderness to cross the most remote section of the largest unguarded border in the world. Traveling by canoe along a route that my ancestors have traveled since long before there was a border, we had crossed the imaginary line last night, and by this time tomorrow I planned to load them into a van that would be waiting at a trailhead near Ely. This was where we would part ways. For now we were preparing to break camp at a campsite known only to me. I carved it out of the timber a few years ago, and it is able to conceal not only a tent but a canoe as well. There’s not much canoe traffic this time of year, but I was doing a final check to make sure the coast was clear when the birds showed up. Figuring there must be something along the shore holding their interest, I fished my binoculars out of my pack to get a closer look at the sinister pair. To the naked eye it looked like a typical rocky point on a shield lake—a smooth rock shoreline gave way to a stand of sparse bulrushes with a couple of boulders. One of the boulders didn’t look right, I realized that I was actually looking at a dead moose that had floated up there. Likely a casualty from the moose season that ended the week before. That explained why the pair of birds were circling, and I pulled the binoculars away to study how the birds were behaving. They took turns swooping down low over the moose and then soaring higher than the treetops and letting out their disturbing calls. Then there was movement in the trees. I pulled the binoculars back up and focused in on the mix of birch and fir that was along the shoreline. At first I thought it was a bear, coming down to take advantage of the dead moose. But this was far taller than a bear. Then I saw the antlers. Some smaller trees parted and then what at first I thought was a moose stepped to the water’s edge. I’ve seen hundreds of moose in my time up here, but what I was seeing now didn’t make sense. Sure it had antlers, and it was tall like a moose. But it was mostly without fur, and the color was all wrong, more of a sickly pinkish gray than the dark brown you would expect of a moose. I could see its ribs. And its front legs weren’t really legs, they were more like long, gangly arms. Arms that ended in long bony fingers. Even though I was about 200 yards away I could see the glint of fangs. It stepped from the trees to the water’s edge. It paused and looked up at the circling birds. It let out a scream that hung in the air. One of my travelers let out a whimper, and I turned put a raised finger across my lips. I knew we were out of sight of what any typical animal or person could see, but this was far from typical. I flashed back to many years before when I stared wide eyed at my grandfather as he told stories around the campfire. Flames flickered and birch logs crackled as he described an evil spirit called the Wendigo. Many generations ago a lost hunter turned to cannibalism to survive, and his evil deed transformed him into a horrific beast. A beast that roamed the wilds with an insatiable hunger for flesh. Human or otherwise. While this story terrified me as a child, I never gave it any thought as an adult, as the elders had many tales of spirits and such. But here I was, miles from the nearest road, two strangers in my care, looking at the impossible. I subconsciously reached to feel the outline of my revolver tucked into the back of my pants. The beast had now waded into the water and its claws began tearing at the moose carcass. It ripped off huge chunks of flesh, hide, and bone with ease, shoving them into is gaping mouth where they were crunched and swallowed. The water around the moose carcass was soon tinged red with blood and the pair of giant birds took roost in a tall pine above the beast. The carnage continued as the creature consumed impossible amounts in minutes. I heard one of the travelers whisper “Monstoro”. I didn’t need translation to know what it meant. They had every reason to be scared now. I’ve had face to face standoffs with wild bears, with big city gangs, with angry fathers. At least with those you have an idea of what you are dealing with. My grandfather never said how one would deal with a Wendigo. With most of the moose consumed, the monster let out another scream. I was back to looking through binoculars, which was a mistake as the beast’s face and chest were covered in blood, and flesh clung to its claws. An image I will never be able to erase. Despite having consumed the better part of an adult moose it was still gaunt in appearance. It took a last look around and I stopped breathing when its gaze seemed to focus on our location for a moment. It slowly turned towards shore and then disappeared into the brush. This cued the black birds to come down for what was left. One bird rested on the moose’s hindquarter and picked away at intestines, the other rested on the head and feasted on the eyes and torn-open neck. After a few minutes they flew up silently, circled over our location and then headed in the general direction the Wendigo had gone. At least they went in the opposite direction we were headed. We sat in silence for a time, then I pulled out a map. I showed the travelers where we were, where the Wendigo had gone, and where we needed to go to complete the journey. I showed them my gun, which I had kept hidden from them until now, hoping it would ease their fears. It didn’t do much to ease my fears. It was a .357 revolver, enough to stop a bear, but what would it do to a Wendigo? I suspected there needed to be some version of a silver bullet to stop an evil spirit. I gestured to them to pack their belongings, which they did quickly and quietly. I calculated that if we traveled lightly and quickly we could be out by nightfall. I decided to leave the tent and everything else not essential. We slid the canoe down the bank, climbed in and pushed off. The woman sat on the floor in the middle, the man was at the bow. I paddled from the stern with intensity, we had about ten miles to the end of the lake. At the end of the lake was a portage trail of about a half mile that would bring us to the next lake. We had done a number of portages already on this trip, and after the morning’s events I was dreading having to be on foot. There was no other way out. A light wind was at our back, allowing for relatively quick travel. The man was paddling as best he could, but it was marginally helpful at best. The woman kept her head down and did not move. Usually on this kind of trip I try to hug the shoreline to keep a low profile, but now we were tracking right down the middle of the lake. I was making a beeline for a height-of-land where I knew the portage was, and we continued along in silence. The paddle down the long lake was uneventful, and it was early afternoon when we reached the portage. Once ashore we took a short break and ate some jerky, and then it was time to make the portage. It would be easier now since I had abandoned most of the gear. On earlier portages I had the travelers hide out while I scouted ahead to make sure we would not meet anyone on the trail, but there was no time for that. I think they understood me as I tried to explain the importance of moving quickly and quietly. I pointed to the trail and then to the packs and paddles. They took the cue and I put the canoe up on my shoulders and we plodded along through the forest. It took less than an hour to get to the next lake. There was a forest fire here several years before, and the charred remains of a few old growth pine stood in stark contrast to the young aspen, birch and spruce that had grown in the void left by the fire. This lake was smaller, with many bays and points, and we were soon back to making progress in the canoe. wendi 5We came around a point midway down the lake. I looked to the end of the lake where we would find the next portage and stopped padding. Maybe 300 yards away was the remains of a burnt pine. Roosting in the tree were two birds. Big, black birds. The man in the bow saw them too, and muttered something to the woman. She looked up for the first time and stifled a scream. We had to go past them to get to the next portage, so I kept paddling down the middle, not taking my eyes off the birds. As we got closer it was obvious they were watching us too, their heads pivoting as we passed them. I kept looking back over my shoulder at them, but they held their position. I didn’t know what the presence of the birds on our route signified, but based on what I saw this morning it couldn’t be good. By the time we were at the end of lake where the next portage was, I could barely make out the tree anymore. I thought that perhaps we were in the clear, but then we all heard the unmistaken sound, the same sound we heard the birds making this morning. Even though they had to be over a mile away there was no mistaking it. The long, drawn out croaking continued for a minute, then it was silent again. I paddled towards shore so hard that the bow slid two feet onto the bank. “Go! Go! Go!” I yelled. The travelers seemed shocked at my yelling, as I had not said anything to them in the few days we had been together that wasn’t a whisper. They both scrambled out of the canoe, grabbed the gear and headed up the path. I again wrestled the canoe onto my shoulders and followed. We still had another lake to cross after this portage, then it was down a creek to where we were to be picked up in a remote parking lot at the end of a forest road. We would be early, but maybe I could get a cell phone signal and get a call or text to the driver. Or maybe we could hitch a ride with a tourist. Any concerns of being intercepted by authorities has now taken a back seat to getting out of here and away from that thing that for all I knew was making its way south toward us. Since we were closer to an access point, this mile-long portage was well traveled and we made good time. The first half was up a slight incline, then it went down much more steeply to the next lake. We reached the top, and paused for a quick rest. I set the canoe down to catch my breath. The crest of the trail allowed a good view of the valley ahead. It also allowed a good view of two huge, black birds that were circling above the tree tops. The woman was not able to stifle her scream this time, and this prompted the birds to start up with their ominous calls. In the distance we heard another sound. It was a scream, a scream that could have only come from the horror we had seen this morning. While I felt a certain amount of responsibility to the travelers, my concern for them was waning. “You better keep up!” I yelled as hoisted the canoe back onto my shoulders. I headed down the steep trail as fast as I could, and I could hear the travelers behind me, stumbling, but not falling too far behind. With the canoe on my shoulders I couldn’t see if they were carrying the paddles. Didn’t matter, I keep a spare strapped to the supports in the canoe. The steep path made a switchback and was able to see that the man was indeed carrying a paddle and pack, the woman was crying hysterically, carrying nothing. The path here was steep and rough, with many large rocks and roots creating potential tripping hazards. The birds were circling overhead us now, their croaks echoing off the hillside. We heard the distant scream again, although this time it didn’t sound so distant. It was not possible for us to move any faster, but I took care to be sure-footed. I could see we were nearly to the bottom of the hill. Once there it would be level ground to the next lake, which was now only a few hundred yards away. I made it to the bottom of the hill where the well-worn path went through a series of large roots and then turned to dirt. Once to the dirt I flipped the canoe off my shoulders and let it land on the hull. The travelers were coming up fifty yards behind me. I grabbed the bow of the canoe and started dragging it, hoping the man would catch up and grab the stern. I started to yell at the couple to hurry but I was interrupted by another scream from the beast. It was coming from our right and I could now hear branches breaking and what sounded like breathing and snarling. There was no reason to think that the lake would offer refuge from this thing, but it seemed like a better option than facing it here on the path. The man was almost caught up to me, but he stopped to see where his partner was. She had tripped on a root and was now screaming, not sure if it was in pain or terror. Probably more terror, as the Wendigo had broken through the brush along the trail and was now 50 feet behind her. She looked back at it and let out what she meant to be a scream but came out as a yelp. The beast was on her in seconds, and it picked her up over its head and slammed her to the ground. The man dropped to his knees, watching in horror as his partner was torn apart and devoured. wendi 8I resumed dragging the canoe as fast as I could, not looking back. The beast let out another shriek, then there was a scream that I presumed to be from the man. I tried not to think about the snapping and crunching sounds I could hear from behind me. The next lake was now in sight, and even though my entire body wanted to quit I was now running. The shoreline was sandy and I ran right into the water, allowing the canoe to float past me. I hopped in when the back seat was even with me, and in one motion pulled the tag end of the knot that held my spare paddle in place. A few quick strokes and I was twenty yards from shore. The screams of the beast continued, and the black birds that had been watching the bloodbath from treetops now were starting to swoop around me, getting closer with each pass. The Wendigo was now on the shoreline and it let out the loudest scream of all. It stepped in the water to its knees but stopped, gesturing with its long arms and howling at the sky. Not knowing what to do next, I pulled out my revolver. At the end of this lake was the outlet stream that would lead me to a bridge. For the moment I felt safer where I was. The birds were getting ever bolder, and I could feel the wind as one of them swooped in on me from behind my shoulder. It wheeled around over the bow and came right back at me. It reared back at arm’s length with its wings spread and its talons coming right at my face. Taking advantage of a perfect opportunity I pointed the gun barrel at the bird’s center and pulled the trigger. Black feathers flew and the now silenced bird landed in the water and strangely sank out of sight. The other bird flew up high and then quickly descended, coming right at me. I had the gun raised, but the bird did not offer a good target and it flew past my head. Sensing weakness, it circled around and attacked, pecking me on the back of the head with its massive beak. I had to be careful not to tip as I tried to fend it off with the paddle. More determined than ever, the bird came back at me. I fired twice, missing both times. With three rounds left in the gun, I knew I better choose my next shots carefully. The bird came from behind me again, this time it wheeled around quickly, planting its talons on my chest and pecking at my eyes. My attempts to fend it off with a fist were not successful and it got ahold of my eyebrow. I could feel flesh pulling away from my skull, and I pointed the gun right at it and even though I thought the barrel was pressed right into it I still missed. I resorted to using the gun as a bludgeon that I slammed into its neck. This had a noticeable effect, it let out a deep croak and let go its grip. I was not watching the Wendigo at this point, focused on the dark feathered assailant. I could hear it though, as it let out shrieks and screams louder than a siren. The remaining black bird, shook up some from the pistol whipping, flew in a crooked path now, obviously having difficulty maintaining its course. I felt confident I could take it down with one of my remaining rounds. It came straight at me, I let it peck the top of my head as it went by. It circled around again, and once more I let it get me with a good peck to my temple. It made another loop around, and I was ready when it followed the same path of attack. It came right at me, and I was looking down the barrel right at the bird’s head when I pulled the trigger. The raven’s head disintegrated in a cloud of black feathers and blood and the headless body landed at my feet, wings still flapping, talons still grasping. The shrieks of the Wendigo suddenly stopped. It stood motionless, staring out at the lake, not necessarily at me. I set the gun on the seat next to me, there was still one round left. I used the paddle as a shovel to lift the dead bird over the side and into the lake, where it too strangely sank out of sight. The Wendigo, while still a fearsome looking beast with its face and claws covered in blood and flesh, had lost its menacing posture. I pointed the revolver at it, right at its head. I was confident I could hit it, not confident that my one remaining bullet would kill it. For some reason I thought about the old saying, that if carrying a handgun for bear protection you should save the last round for yourself. Pretty sure the old saying applies here. I lowered the gun and watched the beast. With its long bony arms hanging at its sides it turned towards shore and with two big steps it was crashing through the timber, heading away from the lake, away from me, away from my exit point. I sat quietly for a minute, trying to take all of this in. I could no longer hear the sounds of branches breaking. Was the Wendigo gone? Apparently they can’t, or won’t swim. The ravens must act as seers or scouts for the Wendigo, once they were eliminated it was like a switch was flipped. I thought about the hapless travelers. I knew it was pointless to go back to where I had last seen them. What would happen to me when I left the lake? It was now late in the afternoon. I slid the revolver with its one bullet into the back of my jeans, picked up the paddle and headed for the outlet creek.

In my town, getting good luck means you’re going to die

y43qj0

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y43qj0/in_my_town_getting_good_luck_means_youre_going_to/

I stared down at the D20, tears welling in my eyes. 20. The fourth one I’d rolled. Ishaan and Kayla stared at me. Their eyes were wide, filled with fear. I opened my mouth to say something, but I couldn’t. Saying it would make it real. And I couldn’t— “It could just be a coincidence,” Kayla cut in. “Yeah, just last week I got two eights in a row,” Ishaan said with a nervous laugh. But we all knew what was really happening. I’d gotten lucky. And in this town, getting lucky means you’re going to die. \*\*\* Corey Isenberg was a physics major who lived in an off-campus apartment about a block away from us. Last year—only weeks from graduating—he died in an accident. “Accident.” His death could have been plucked right out of a *Final Destination* movie. On a bright Monday morning in April, he took the elevator downstairs. Unbeknownst to him, a rat had chewed through the elevator cable that night. As soon as he stepped inside it would snap. That’s not what killed him, though. Not even close. He only lived on the second floor. The impact wasn’t bad at all. In fact, he was able to press the help button, call the fire department, and calmly tell them that he needed rescue. They dispatched someone, and everything seemed like it would be fine. But. Apparently, on the way down, the cable whipped around inside the shaft and got wrapped around a pipe. When the firemen got there, a rather heavyset one stepped on the top of the elevator. It rocked back and forth, pulling the cable taught— It started spraying water. Now, I know what you’re thinking. Water meets a live wire, and *crack,* he’s gone. But nope. The electrical wiring was well insulated. No, what happened was that at that very moment, the fireman started axing through the top of the elevator—and his axe got stuck. But he’d made a hole. And the water pouring from the pipe dislodged by the elevator cable chewed by the rat began to leak into the elevator. *Drip, drip, drip.* The fireman tried to retrieve the axe, but it was stuck. One of the firewomen tried to pry the ceiling off the elevator, but it was sealed very, very well. In fact, the whole thing was sealed extremely well. So well… none of the water leaking in could leak out. Corey Isenberg drowned to death inside an elevator. His death came at the end of an incredible stroke of good luck. I remember reading the headlines in the university newspaper—how he’d won ten grand playing the slots in Atlantic City. There were other things, too, like the time he ran into a tech CEO at Starbucks and ended up getting a job offer. Never would’ve been there at the right time if his shower hadn’t broken earlier that morning. But his good luck wasn’t always so obvious. It started small—very small. Like the balance in his checking account being $1234.56. Or breaking the wishbone of a chicken exactly in two. Or the random number generator in a line of code popping out three 100’s in a row. Or… Rolling a die, and getting a natural 20 every time. \*\*\* I stared at my reflection. My phone read 2 AM in big fat letters, but I couldn’t sleep. Corey’s death pounded through my mind. His look of terror as the water level rose. Slamming his fists against the wall of the elevator, screaming for the help that was right on the other side. But he didn’t have a chance. Fate, luck, chance—whatever you call it—had already marked him to die. *Is that what’s going to happen to me?* Corey wasn’t the only one. There were several bizarre deaths like this one, spanning across a few decades. In the ‘90s, Laeta Montgomery burned to death after tripping over a jack-o’-lantern. She’d tripled her wealth at the horse races a week before. In the ‘00s, Jen Lu was attacked by a rabid squirrel while on a hike with her family. She’d just inherited the entire family business, after her brother announced he’d be moving to England with his fiancee (whom he met in a chance meeting.) But they might all just be tall tales. None of these details were public—they were passed down from townspeople, from generation to generation. Even with Corey—from news articles I knew he’d died, and that he’d won at the slots, but all the other stuff about wishbones and code was hearsay. Even the details of him drowning in the elevator weren’t public. Ishaan told me that. I shook my head and turned the water on. Splashed some water on my face. *Just a ghost story,* I thought, rubbing the water on my face. *And I’m going to be twenty next month. Aren’t I a little old for ghost stories?* I reached for the towel, to dry my face— My arm whacked against my phone. It fell onto the tile with a sickening *crack.* “Dammit!” I shouted, diving for it. I snatched it off the floor, praying the screen wasn’t cracked— My heart stopped. The screen was cracked. But it was cracked *perfectly.* One solid line in the glass, running vertically from the bottom to the top. Not a single split or fracture. Cold sweat broke out on my arms. I set the phone down, my hand shaking. I don’t know what’s going to happen to me. I don’t know if I have months or years or days. I don’t know if the legend in my town is just a tall tale—snowballing with each generation, as it’s told around smoldering campfires on cold autumn nights. But I don’t like my chances.

My greatest fear came true...

y57e7c

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y57e7c/my_greatest_fear_came_true/

This story takes place back in my college days. Sophomore year to be specific. I had met my two friends Jin and Raquel in my freshman year in the underclassman dorm, as we all were in the same building. All three of us had been so thrilled when we had now that we had moved into the upperclassman dorms: better food, bigger common room, and we were all going to be neighbors. Jin and I would be roommates and Raquel scored the single directly across the hall. In addition to all that Jin and I had received a bonus perk: a lot more space! Somehow, we had lucked out big time. As it turns out, our room a long time ago belonged to the RA, but has since been converted to host regular students since the RA for our building now resided on the other side of the grassy quad. ​ While our dorm had the more or less same furniture as the other doubles: two beds, two desks and one mini fridge, there were a few bonus features exclusive to our dorm thanks to its history. Although the chimney to it had been sealed, we had a cute little fireplace, which Jin liked to use to display her paintings over the mantle and we would use the little cubby it formed to tuck away this and that. And unlike the other doubles in the building which were just one big room, our dorm split into 2 rooms that were separated by a proper door. This feature was a life saver, and made cohabitation a snap. It was no trouble even though our schedules rarely aligned: one of us would just work in the main room while the other caught up on their z’s in the bedroom. And best of all, while all the other double rooms were capped at two closets, we had a bonus third closet in the main room which at first we had decided to share. I was on a bit of a minimalist streak at the time, so Jin effectively became the sole user of the third closed. Even then, she mostly just stored her suitcase and old moving boxes in there, so the closet was only ever opened when a break was coming up. ​ It had been doozy of a fall semester, so we were all ready to head back to our homes for some well-deserved r & r. Because it was the winter break, the dorms would be officially closed up for the holiday meaning everyone was going home. My finals had wrapped up a little earlier than Jin and Raquel’s so I got to leave a day earlier than they did. After I had gotten home, I tried to remember what day Jin said she was coming back, but all I remembered was that it was sometime after I would return. So, I would have the room all to myself for a bit. ​ After one whirlwind of a winter vacation came and went, it was time for me to head on back to campus. I had arrived in the early evening on Friday. After a full day of running around the airport, I had lugged by bag up the 3 flights of stairs to my room, where I stopped, only to find myself staring at the door with my heart racing. This was my absolute least favorite part of vacations: walking back through your front door. Not only did it mean that your break was done, but I’ve always had this deep-seated fear that someone might have broken into the house and stolen something, or god forbid was still inside. What was even more unnerving this time was that since Jin had left after I did, I would have no way to know if anything had been out of place. ​ I braced myself as I unlocked the door. And when I saw Jin’s desk on the other side of the room my heart stopped because I thought my worst fears had come true. Her desk which was normally covered with papers and knick knacks was bare, and most of her paintings that normally were displayed proudly on the mantle and by the window were gone. I whipped my head around to look at my desk to see if the burglar had done the same with my belongings, only to be confronted with the immense pile of junk and notebooks on my desk, exactly as I had left it. A wave of relief had washed over me, and my pulse eventually returned to a healthy range as I walked around the room double and triple checking that none of my belongings had gone missing. I had assured myself that there was no way a thief passed through the room as my Nintendo DS and DVD collection, the two items with the most recognizable value, had been left entirely untouched. ​ I suspected that Jin must have done some very throughout cleaning and organizing before she left, because not only was her desk bare, but her bed had been completely stripped of sheets and the pillow was nowhere to be seen. I had assumed at the time she could have taken them with her back home, which would have been odd, but not entirely out of the question. By then, dinner was already being served so I made my way down to the dining hall. I had texted Raquel what time she would be getting back to campus, and to my delight it turns out she was already there. So, we headed to dinner together. We chatted about all the fun things that we had done over the break, and on what we should do while we wait for Jin to come back. It was around this point in the conversation that I mentioned how Jin’s bed had been stripped, which Raquel affirmed was very odd. But we decided not to dwell on it and decided we would go shopping early the next day, I had a bunch of coupons that were about to expire, after grabbing a quick brunch. ​ Before bed I had decided to ‘re-organize’ the piles of books on my desk, and then tried to settle in by doing some reading. But I couldn’t get my focus because my eyes kept drifting towards that empty bed beside me, my mind puzzling why the bed would be empty. Eventually all the hustle and bustle of the day sank in and I finally switched off the lights to go to bed. It took maybe two minutes after I had gotten into bed when I heard a thud, and then a cascade of books crashing to the floor. I lay there under the covers still as a statue, ears pricked and eyes glued to the door which I had closed out of habit. After waiting for 5… 10… 20 minutes there was not so much as a peep from the other room. I could have checked, but our mini fridge was notoriously noisy. Every night the fridge would always make some strange thunk, clang or whirring sound. It only would happen for a moment, and for whatever reason always seemed to be after I had gone to bed. As for the fallen books: I was not a good organizer, I had seen too many precarious piles of belongings come crashing down in broad daylight even if no one touched them. Eventually I had settled down enough to go sleep. ​ I had woken up early the next day, a little too early. It was only 7, and the dining halls never opened until 10 on the weekend. This was a normal occurrence for me, a die hard morning person. I investigated the main room, to which all I could find was the fallen books and no other sign of disturbance. I also checked my closet to make sure no one was hiding inside, and I found it was empty. I had considered opening the other 2, but every fiber in my body was telling me not to, and I wrote it off with the excuse of respecting Jin’s Privacy. After all, I was one tiny college student and the only one awake at this hour. If I uncovered something, I would be in far more danger than if I had left it alone. I tried to brush it off and pulled out my laptop to kill some time. On any other weekend I would have slapped on my thick soundproof headphones without a care and binged watched YouTube videos until I could get breakfast. But I couldn’t make myself be at ease in that dorm. I elected instead to use my old earbuds instead, only using one at a time with the volume set as low as it would go, my eyes constantly watched Jin’s closet and the door to the main room while I sat on my bed. ​ Ten AM came without incident, I met Raquel in the hall and we headed to brunch. After we inhaled our meal, we ran to the bus stop. If we had missed it now, we would have to wait a whole other hour before the next one would come. We made it with 3 minutes to spare. While we waited, I checked my purse to make sure I hadn’t forgotten anything, but to my surprise I had forgotten the coupons. I quickly retraced my steps in my mind and remembered I left them on my desk in the dorm. I considered running back to go get them, after all the hall entrance was only about 20 feet from the bus stop. I could probably make it, but it would be cutting it close. Not only that, but I had this gnawing feeling in my gut, saying ‘don’t go up to the room’. Raquel checked the bus schedule and saw it was running late. That meant anywhere from a 5 to 15-minute delay. Time was not really a limiting factor anymore but again the intense instinct continued to insist that I stay away from my own dorm room, even though there was definitely nothing wrong with it. We ended up waiting for a total of 20 minutes before the bus came and left for the mall, without the coupons. Either way, we had a great time. In total we had been out of the dorm for about three hours. ​ We had returned and decided to nap and relax in our own rooms until dinner. When I opened my door again, I found the door to the third closet sitting wide open. Other than a few folded up boxes, it was totally empty. And to my surprise, when I ran back into the bedroom, Jin’s bed had magically been completely made. All the sheets and pillow back in their place. The covers slightly ruffled and thrown back as if someone had just been lying down for a nap. While one part of my brain thought Jin must be back, another part of me grew more suspicious. I worked up my nerve, again checking my closet and finally opening Jin’s, both now cleared of suspicion. Some part of me wanted to believe that Jin had in fact returned. After all, she usually was out of the house until 8 or 9 PM anyway, even on weekends. So, I waited until dinner time. After eating with Raquel, we decided to hang out in my dorm until Jin returned so we could spend some time together. And so, we waited. At 7, there was no sign of her. At 8, there was no sign of her. By 9 o’clock, Raquel decided to text her to finally ask where she was, and if she was on campus. To our horror, she replied that she wouldn’t be back for a few more days. She had been hundreds of miles away the whole time. ​ Every thought, every emotion left my body. Raquel was screaming and raving about how it was possible. I replied flatly that I had no idea. I asked her what I should do, and she suggested we call the RA. I quickly made the call and tried to explain the situation as best I could. The RA told me that I should call the police, and asked if I wanted her to be there when I did. To which I said yes eagerly. She arrived more swiftly than I had expected, even if it was her job to be available for such emergencies. The call with the campus police had been brief, at the mention of the break in they told us to wait while they dispatched the officers. While Raquel paced nervously, I sat patiently at my desk. 15 minutes later 2 officers had arrived. With one look at me, stone faced, and a look at Raquel, actively shaking, they turned towards Raquel and asked her to explain what happened. To which she corrected them that she was just the friend from across the hall. The officers looked skeptical, and their confusion only grew as I recounted what had happened earlier that day, namely the re-appearance of the sheets and the opening of the closet. I made no mention of the sounds I heard the night before as I had no evidence there was a connection. The officers questioned if I might have been miss-remembering, but Raquel was quick to support me, as we had discussed the missing sheets the day prior. ​ The police were quite stumped as to how the culprit could have accessed the room, as practically every plausible theory was shot down. Did Jin forget to lock the door? No, it locked automatically whenever you left the room. Did we lose a duplicate key somewhere? No, I had never made a duplicate and I trust Jin when she said she never had either. Did they climb through our window? Unlikely, as they have locks that neither Jin nor I have ever unlatched while we stayed there. Plus it was a 3 floor vertical climb to get up there. A staff member would have the keys, but no motive that easily explains what happened. Regardless, the locks needed to be changed, but it would take two days before it could be done, so for two nights I slept on the floor of Raquel’s room. Every time I went back into my room for something, I did a check of every hiding spot just in case until the locks were changed. ​ And in the end, nothing else really became of that incident. But for those 24 hours, I my greatest fear had become a reality: that while I was away someone had broken into my home and was in all likelihood hiding in my closet.

The "Thing" at Apple Bloom Farm (Part 1)

y4ya4g

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y4ya4g/the_thing_at_apple_bloom_farm_part_1/

Welcome to Mistyville Connecticut! A sleepy little town whose main tourist attraction is a beautiful, 500 acre farm with a scary secret: Apple Bloom Farm. First, some background about myself. My name is Lilly. I'm a 20 year old student who goes to a university just 15 minutes away in the nearest city. I’m studying creative writing with a minor in drama. I applied for a year-round position at this farm to make some extra money while at school and away from home. As you can tell by the name, this farm's main produce item was the many varieties of apples that were grown there: Granny Smith, Golden Delicious, Empire, Honey Crisp; you name it, they got it. Anyway, this farm is well known for its year-round farmers’ market the size of your average grocery store. This was where I would work most of the time, as well as in the pumpkin patch and corn maze. What I didn’t know, however, was how quickly my life would change once I started working there (and not in a good way). Many horrifying things happened to me during my time working on the farm, and I’m writing this post as a warning to those who may want to visit. It all started back in August on my first day… I drove up the winding driveway to the staff parking lot, and saw an older couple, who looked to be in their late-fifties, standing outside of a small cottage-like building. *They must be the owners*, I thought to myself. I got out of my car, and immediately felt an uneasy feeling that I couldn’t place; like someone (or some*thing*) was watching me… Just then I was swiftly greeted by the couple, and the feeling briefly subsided. “Hello, you must be Lilly'', the man said. “That’s me!” I replied, putting on my warmest smile. He smiled back, and held out his hand for me to shake. “My name is Edgar. Edgar Bloom. And this is my wife, Elizabeth.” “It’s so lovely to meet you, dear”, Elizabeth said, warmly shaking my hand. “It’s so nice to meet you both! I can’t wait to get started,” I said “Why don’t you follow us into the staff building so we can get you settled and show you around, hmm?” I nodded in agreement, and I followed up the steps to the staff building. Though, the minute the conversation ended, the uneasy feeling came back. *What the hell is going on?* I thought. I looked around, and this place didn’t look any different from any other family-owned farm. *Maybe I’m just coming down with something…* So I walk into the staff building, and am surprised to walk into a very cozy looking lounge room. “Welcome to Apple Bloom Farm, Lilly!” Edgar exclaimed, standing in the middle of the room with his arms spread out. “I hope you enjoy your time working here, we like to make our employees feel welcomed here. Our family has owned this property for over 50 years, and everyone has enjoyed their time here, no matter how long they’re with us.” Then suddenly, blink and you’ll miss it, Edgar’s face darkened. “That is, if we don’t *scare you away first*.” His face then went back to normal, and he started *laughing*. “Oh, I’m just joking with you!” I laughed half heartedly with him, but the truth is that I nearly jumped out of my skin. I then heard another voice coming in from outside. “Mom? Dad? I’m here!” In came a woman who looked to be in her late-twenties or early-thirties. “Oh, yes. Come here, honey,” Edgar said. “Sofia, meet Lilly. Lilly, this is Sofia; she will be showing you around, and will cover most of your training.” “Hello, Lilly. Great to meet you!” Sofia said cheerfully. I smiled back at her; Sofia didn’t seem to be as mysterious as her parents. “Alright, well I’ll let you ladies get to it. Good luck, Lilly,” Edgar said, turning to go out the front door.” “Thank you, I’ll try,” I replied. I then felt a tug on my arm, and turned to see Elizabeth standing right in my face, her hand closed tightly around my arm. “Be careful out there, my dear. You never know what’s lurking in the fields, especially at dusk.” “O-ok. I will.” I could feel myself shaking with fear. “Mom, stop it! You’re scaring her,” Sofia said. Elizabeth then released my arm, and turned to give Sofia a remorseful look before swiftly leaving the building after her husband. “What the hell was that all about?” I asked once I was able to find my voice, flabbergasted. “They’ve been acting weird since the moment I arrived.” “Sorry about that,” Sofia said. “We had an… incident here a fews years ago, and my parents haven’t been the same since.” “W-what kind of incident?” I asked, hesitant. Sofia looked at me, and I saw her eyes darken. “Well, it all started about 5 years ago, when my parents made some renovations to the corn maze. They received an anonymous donation of this creepy-ass scarecrow that looked like it crawled out of the depths of hell. ‘This’ll scare the willikers out of the guests!’ my dad told me. So he took it out to the middle of the corn maze next to our haunted shack. Once they put it up though, things began to get strange. We would walk past it to put up more decorations, and we would feel like we were being watched. Then, portions of our crops began to rot when they were growing well. My parents decided to ignore the signs, thought, and continued preparing for the season as planned. Then everything seemed fine for a while, and then our Halloween festivities began…” For some reason, as soon as she said that, I felt a shiver run up and down my spine. “We have two different corn maze experiences we offer: a family-friendly one during the day, and a scary one at night. During the scary corn maze is when we realized something wasn’t right. Me and my parents would hear screams coming from the maze. Not the screams of people having fun, but terrifying, blood-curdling screams. Then we would have people running from the maze, and they would scream at my parents that they wouldn’t come back until they got rid of that god awful scarecrow. Eventually the authorities got involved, and my parents had to close off the section of the maze with the scarecrow in it. We still have no idea what’s wrong with that thing; we’re all too scared to go near it.” “Holy crap…” I said softly. “Yeah,” Sofia replied. “Did you ever wonder why there was a position open here?” She asked. I shook my head, unable to make words form. “Well, you’ll find out once you see that scarecrow. You’re sure you still want to work here? You still have time to back out.” I took a deep breath and straightened my back, wanting to prove myself. I nodded confidently. “Yes” She smiled weakly at me. “You’re a brave one. Now, do you want to start the tour?” Sofia asked. I nodded, and she led me out the door to the rest of the farm. She showed me their massive farmers market, the rows and rows of their many varieties of apple trees, and their two separate pumpkin patches; one for small pumpkins and one for large. Our final stop was the corn maze… As we were approaching it, though we were still a few feet away, and began to get chills all over my body. I looked around at the scenery, trying to slow down my heart rate. In the distance I could see it: the dreaded scarecrow. I inhaled sharply. “Is that it?” Sofia nodded next to me. “That’s it” Though I was quite a distance from it, I could still make out some details. I could see a head made out of jack-o-lantern, and the carved-out face looked like something out of a horror movie. Its limbs were all bent in awkward angles, and the straws of hay sticking out of its clothing looked like they were dripping blood (perhaps it actually was, considering Sofia’s story). “Wow. That’s… actually horrifying,” I said, not totally sure what I should be saying. Nothing I could say would have made that moment any less terrifying. “It is,” Sofia replied. “Well, that’s everything,” she said after a brief moment of silence. “I hate to ask you this, but me and my parents are gonna start getting the maze ready for the halloween season tonight. If you want to join us, you can. No pressure, though. You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” She smiled crookedly at me. I chuckled to myself. “No, I’d be happy to help. If I’m gonna work here for a while, I might as well get familiar with the place; even the scary parts.” “That’s the spirit! Why don’t you join us for dinner, then we can start once the sun goes down?” So I joined the Bloom family for dinner. Elizabeth had made a pumpkin veggie stew using fresh pumpkins from patches. Then after dinner, we headed out to the maze… “Now, Lilly, I need you to be careful with those lights,” Edgar said as we were walking down the hill towards the maze. “They are very old and very thin, and will span in half if you bend them the wrong way.” “Of course, Edgar! I’ll be as careful as I can.” As I walked through the entrance of the maze, the uneasy feeling, again, returned. This time stopping me in tracks. I felt a hand softly touch my back, and I turned to see Elizabeth smiling softly at me. “I know you’re nervous, Lilly, but don’t be. We’ll be close behind you the whole time, and remember: As long as you stay on the path of the orange flags, you won’t get lost.” She gave me one last tap on the shoulder as encouragement. “Good luck, honey.” Then she walked off along with Edgar. I took a deep breath, and walked along the orange path. The flashlight they gave me was luckily very bright, so I had no problem seeing where I was going. After walking for a few minutes, I came across the area where I would be decorating: this must have been where the family-friendly maze was because in front of me was a cute little area with hay bales, and a “Happy Halloween” sign. I smiled to myself, and began hanging up the lights. As I was decorating, a feeling of someone watching me came over me, and a shiver ran up my spine. I hesitantly turned around, dreading what I might see. And as I looked behind me, and about 5 feet ahead of me was the blocked off section of maze with the scarecrow. Curiosity getting the better of me, I left my area of the maze to investigate this scarecrow. I pushed through the corn stalks, and finally came face-to-face with the scarecrow. *It’s even creepier up close*, I thought to myself. I don’t know what came over me, but I felt the need to get closer, and I reached out to touch its arm. As soon I did that, its jack-o-lantern face began to glow; so softly that I thought I imagined it. I suddenly felt a sense of dread come over me, so I quickly turned around to walk back to my decorating area. As I was walking back, I heard a *thump* and some rustling behind me. I turned around to look, and I immediately felt my heart drop into my stomach; *the scarecrow was gone*. I felt myself start to panic, and I turned my flashlight to its fullest brightness. I continued on, and I could still hear rustling behind me. Just then I heard a growl that froze me in my tracks. “Sofia!?” I called out, hoping it was just her or her parents playing a trick on me. “Is that you?” I heard another growl, followed by a deep chuckle like you’d hear at the Haunted Mansion. Just then the rustling got even louder and closer, and, to my horror, I saw something big rise up over the corn stalks. There it was: the scarecrow towering over me, its carved face contorting into an evil scowl, its eyes looking *right at me*. Without skipping a beat, I turned around and ran as fast as I could out of there. I took a quick glance over my shoulder, and I saw the scarecrow charging straight towards me, its bent arms flailing behind it, and its carved face filled with flames. Just then it leaped at my feet, and dragged me to the ground. I felt my eyes well up with tears, thinking this might be the end for me. The scarecrow dug its claws into my legs, and let out its terrifying cackle again. I looked ahead of me, and I saw the exit only a few feet in front of me. Suddenly filled with courage, I shook one of my legs free. “Get your claws off of me you HAY-STUFFED BASTARD!” I shouted. I used my free leg to kick the scarecrow in the face, and it was enough to knock it off of me. I got up off the ground, and ran as fast as lightning towards the exit, not even looking behind me to see if the scarecrow was chasing after me again. Once I made it out, I just continued running, and I ran past Sofia. “Hey, where are you going?” Sofia shouted towards me. “I’m getting the hell out of here!” I shouted back. I continued running until I made it back to my car. I hopped in, turned on the ignition, and drove out of there like a bat out of hell. I looked in my rearview mirror, and I swore I could see the scarecrow at the edge of the field, still looking at me with a face full of flames. Once the farm was out of sight, I let out the breath I had been holding, and continued driving, heading back to my college dorm. I had to make it back somewhere safe; I would deal with Sofia and the Blooms in the morning…

My Encounters with Evil in my home country of Japan

y4tsfm

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y4tsfm/my_encounters_with_evil_in_my_home_country_of/

This was my first encounter with the darker side of humanity and potentially my first encounter with the paranormal. This is the story of a nightmarish encounter I had as a young boy living in Japan. I was a very quiet child and often kept to myself. That's why I often walked home alone which in hindsight was not the wisest of choices of a boy to do. However, both my parents worked and didn't have time to pick me up. So, to make it easy on everyone I would walk home from school. I was a young boy walking home about maybe 9 or 10 years old. I remember the rain was pouring down hard and not even my raincoat was of use. I was looking up at the light and eagerly awaiting it to turn signaling for me to walk across. It felt like an eternity had past then a woman with a surgical mask walked up to me and shielded me with her umbrella. She asked me if I was okay, and I nodded we crossed together and then she tells me she had a question. She dressed in white and was covered by a long coat and her head was partially obscured by this round hat while her face was partly shielded by a surgical mask which I didn't think anything of at the time. Then she pulled off her mask and asked me "Do you think I'm pretty?" I was mortified her face had horrible scars around the mouth. I was speechless and visibly frightened. This made her angry and she asked again "Do you think I'm pretty?" In fear I shouted "Yes!" hoping this would make stop and leave me alone. It didn't work and she screamed "Liar!" I insisted I wasn't lying but she said, "Well how about I make you pretty just like me?" next thing I know she took out a knife and swung it at me. So, I moved as fast I could dodge and run. The whole time I kept thinking I was going to die. Looking back I probably would have if I hadn't gotten so lucky. I kept running eventually running blindly into the street barely getting hit by a car. I heard thump or something and quickly turned around seeing she had been hit by the car. I froze for a second thinking she was dead but as soon as the driver got out to check on her, she lifted up her head and gave me this crazed look like a rabid animal. I ran once more and didn't stop until I got home. I never found out what happened my parents told me there had been a man hospitalized for multiple stab wounds but a woman matching her description never turned up. After that my parents drove me to and from school, but I would hear similar stories from other kids about a woman approaching them or their parents, neighbors asking them the same question "DO YOU THINK I'M PRETTY?"