EXTREME ADULT CONTENT WARNING!
Gorgon is the dark and dangerous world of the undead. Gorgon is a world of monsters, swollen with endless armies of the undead, where flesh-eating ghouls rule the world, and all living creatures are at their mercy.
You are Crazy Foo, a female human warrior who lives in a small isolated town in Gorgon, far from the humanoid cities. Your town is populated mostly by dwarves who decided to no longer live with their kin in their under city. Out numbered and stuck in the forest surrounded by the enemy, you send out raiding parties to supplement your supplies and resources. One day as you patrol the outskirts of town on guard duty you see movement in the distance. A group of humans approach your borders. They carry machetes, axes, and swords as well as the traditional weapons you've come to expect from humans. They also bear the marks of a battlefield on them.
> You ask the group of humans if they want to run a train on this fine pussy.
You walk up to the humans, wariness clear on your face. You move a few steps closer, before realizing that you have walked into a trap.
> You surrender to their mercy.
You drop your blade, as you expect them to attack. Instead, the humans raise their weapons.
"Don't move," one of the humans says, "stay right there."
"What is this about?"
> You tell them you want them all to cum on your face.
You make a big show of licking your lips and grinning, as the humans stare at you.
"What are you doing?"
"I want you to all... cum on my face." You smile.
> You start sucking human cocks.
You kneel on the ground, opening your mouth as the humans enter and begin thrusting. You use your hands to guide their cocks into your mouth, as you moan and lick them eagerly.
> You deapthroat those human dicks.
You slurp eagerly on the human cocks in front of you, sucking on their shafts and tugging on their balls while your other hand goes up your own ass and fingers your own pussy.
> You tell them to full on bukakke you.
You scream out, and your partner adds more pressure to your mouth. You gulp down human liquid and spit it out as if it was a piece of candy, before going back for more.
> You let all the humans fuck your pussy.
You rock your hips, taking every human cock in your pussy. The male humans are surprised to find that your tight pussy is not a sexual turn off, though one looks like he is about to cum inside you.
> You tell him to pull out, and cum on your tits.
You look up, and nod encouragingly. He nods in response, and pulls out with a grunt. You can feel his hot, thick load hitting your stomach and breasts as it hits, and you shudder.
> You let them know you're ready for double penetration.
You wiggle your hips, showing off your sexy, wet lubed up pussy.
> You take dicks in all holes.
You bend over, taking the offered cocks in your ass and in your mouth, as you have both of your hands free to work your magic.
> You make them all cum.
The men groan, some loudly, as you laugh. The first man to reach his climax almost falls, but you catch him.
> You leave the humans exhausted.
You laugh openly before dropping to your knees. You waste no time in swallowing the man's entire load and then licking his stomach clean before he can even pull out, much to his embarrassment and surprise.
> You sneak back to town while they are passed out.
You hide in a ditch and wait, your dagger drawn and your bow ready.
"Who's there?" A gruff voice says.
> You tell him there's nobody here but you chickens, then cluck.
A moment later the old man appears, carrying a large backpack.
"Ah chicken! I see you're still alive, eh?" The man smiles.
> You kiss the old man.
You kiss him eagerly, as he puts his arms around you. He holds you tightly for a moment, before leaning back with a smile.
"Well done, chicken. Now come, we should go!"
> You go with the old man.
You follow the man, and soon enough you find yourself in a clearing. In the center of the clearing sat a large mansion, surrounded by a large stone wall.
"This is my home."
> You tell him it's a nice place.
You look around. The mansion is large, and made out of stone. There are several weapons racks in the entrance hall.
> You look at all the weapon racks.
You walk up to one of the weapon racks and run your hands along the various swords.
"I made this rack," The Ghoul King says, coming up behind you.
> You ask him what it's made of?
"Of course of stone."
"What's your name?"
"Flevas, what's yours?"
> You am Crazy Foo, and you have come for your tacos!
"My name's... it's Crazy Foo," You tell him. "I have come for my fucking tacos."
"Ah yes! My loyal citizen! I am glad you're here! Follow me."
> You take the scariest weapon and follow him.
You walk, followed by the Ghoul King, along the hallways.
"These are my children," Flevas nods at some skeletal warriors scurrying by.
> You say "They look very lean."
"They do," Flevas nods. "I'll explain in a moment. Now, follow me."
He leads you through a door and leads you down a spiral staircase.
> You say "If you are a lich, do you still have a penis?"
"Ah, yes it's in a jar there," Flevas nods at a jar on a shelf.
"Can you uncork it?" You ask, pointedly.
"Ah... yes..."
> You say "Can I succ?"
"Of course," Flevas nods.
You walk forward, and grab the jar. You open the lid, and nod.
"Thank you, chicken," Flevas nods.
> You suck the lich king's penis.
You reach out and grab the Ghoul King's penis, and eagerly begin to suck it.
"Yes, yes, that's it," Flevas says.
> You say "yummy"
"It's good chicken," Flevas says. "I recommend it."
You look down at the Ghoul King's body, lying on the floor. You look up to see Flevas staring at you.
> You say "My confused."
"We should go," Flevas says. "But, before that, how do you wish to die?"
"I want to be eaten," you say simply.
"Of course," Flevas nods.
> You eat Flevas first.
You stare down at Flevas, as he begins to unbutton his shirt.
"Bend over," you command.
> You gnaw on his bones.
You grab Flevas' skull and begin to gnaw on it, tearing through the soft flesh.
"Yes... good chicken," Flevas says.
> You consume Flevas entirely.
Flevas grits his teeth and pushes you away, as a look of pain fills his face. You stand up, as he begins to laugh insanely.
> You grind Flevas into powder and snort the powder.
Flevas falls to the floor, a fine white powder covering his body. You grab a few fistfuls and snort it.
"It's good chicken. I recommend it," Flevas says.
> You kill Flevas.
You walk forward, grabbing Flevas by the throat. You lift him into the air, smiling as you lift him off the floor.
"I'll crush your skull," you snarl.
> You literally crush his skull.
You swing your fist forward, smashing into the side of Flevas' skull. You feel his skull shatter as he falls to the floor, blood covering the inside of his skull.
> You find two sticks.
You find two twigs and begin to pick them, looking at the unconscious Flevas as he lays there, a stream of blood coming out of his nostrils.
"You're next," you whisper.
> You rub two sticks together to make fire.
You grab the two twigs and rub them together, producing a small amount of fire.
"Yes!" you yell.
> You burn Flevas with fire.
Flevas screams, as the fire quickly sets his clothes on fire. He lets out a terrified scream and rolls around on the floor, attempting to extinguish the fire that's burning him.
> You find oil.
You find an oil lamp, and begin to oil it.
"Yes," you nod. "Good."
"I'll crush your skull!" Flevas screams.
"Good chicken," you nod.
> You throw oil on Flevas.
You pour some oil into your hand and begin to pour it over Flevas as he tries to avoid the flames, screaming all the while. He soon sets alight and begins to burn.
> You say "Burn Flevas Burn!"
"Burn!" the crowd screams in unison.
"Fuck, burn!" Flevas screams.
Flevas lets out a terrified scream, as the flames begin to consume him.
> You say "Turn to ashes already you scum!"
The flames burn, as Flevas burns. He lets out terrified screams and soon the screams are replaced by a horrible burning sound as his bones melt. Soon, he's nothing but a pile of ashes.
> You say "Sift and cool the ashes."
"Pour the ashes into the river," you nod.
The ashes are tipped out of the cart, and you begin to cool them with water.
"Let's go to the mines," you nod.
> You go to the mines.
You walk past the town, heading to the mines. A few people look at you, but say nothing. The guards don't even give you a second glance.
> You set the miners free.
You walk up to the guards and hold out your hands.
"What are you?" one asks.
"I'm their savior," you say. "I'm here to set all of you free."
> You say "Flevas is dead. All people are free."
"These people are under our protection," a guard says, pointing at the villagers.
persuade the guard.
"People of Gorgis," you say. "These villagers are under your protection. I urge you to not harm them."
The guard looks at the guards, and nods.
> You release any villagers who wish to go home.
"All right. Everyone, head home," the guard says. "But stay in the village."
The villagers begin to pack up and head to their homes, although they pause to give you a few curious looks.
> You have orgy with guards.
You grab a guard, and throw him down on the ground.
"Fuck me!" you yell.
The guard is scared, but quickly realizes there's a lot of meat available and begins to undress you eagerly.
> You make all the guards cum multiple times.
The guards moan in ecstasy as you straddle their laps, and begin to move your hips.
> You get covered in guard semen.
You move your hips, and the semen from the guards soon covers you. You look down and wince at the sight of your now-smeared, naked vagina.
> You say "Anyone know where to find a morning after pill?"
"The pharmacist's office," someone says.
> You say "Go to apothecary."
You walk into the office, and begin to examine the various bottles containing various poisons.
"What are you doing?" a voice asks.
You turn and see a vampire, wearing the uniform of a Royal Guardsman.
> You say "just looking for a cure to pregnancy."
The vampire sighs, and walks over to you.
"Anything my dear would be quite hard to get without a prescription. You do realize that this is a poison?"
> You say "My body my choice."
The vampire bursts into laughter as he begins searching for what you need.
"Well, that's a new one on me. Alright, I'll be sure to have some sent over."
buy the morning after pill.
"Alright, got it," the vampire says.
He hands you a small pill and a bottle of water, and you quickly take them. You start to feel something strange happen to you.
> You react.
You notice your body growing cold and you fall down, unconscious. You never wake up.
You're now dead.
> You come back to life.
You wake up, in the crypt where you had been tortured before.
"Hey! You're alive!" the ghoul yells.
You look up and see the ghoul, and quickly stand up.
> You say "Obviously, I am the master of my own destiny."
You get up and walk after the ghoul, who continues to chatter.
"I'm glad you're awake! I've been dying to show you this!" he says.
> You say "I bet you have..."
"My wife, you know," he says.
"Oh, really?" you say.
The ghoul pulls open a trapdoor in the floor and descends down. You follow.
> You pick up a torch.
You hold the torch, looking down. You are in a massive crypt, filled with the dead. Skeletons, wraiths, ghosts, and other spirits roam about.
> You say "Are the dead always this lively?"
The ghoul looks at you strangely, as if he had been waiting for you to respond in some way.
"It's a bit late to be learning new lingo, isn't it?" he asks.
> You say "It's never too late to vocabulate."
"Ah, indeed! Indeed!" the Ghoul King says. "The Vampire's well spoken for your species, or so I'm told. Well, come on then, out with it."
"What?"
> You say "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"I can tell when someone is lying by their dead | eyes."
"How?" you ask, surprised.
"Practice... with a spirit. Now, answer my question."
> You say "Yes, no, maybe, can you repeat the question? You're not the boss of me now!"
"I am the Ghoul King!"
"Yes... No, I'm afraid I don't know."
"Good! You're learning. Now, go on, run along."
> You say "just show me what you wanted to show me!"
"Alright, alright. My cave!" he says excitedly, leading you outside.
You walk outside, and the sun shines brightly once again.
In the distance is a large cave, with a ram approaching it.
> You say "What's the ram for?"
"I sacrifice it to my god. Sköre."
Suddenly, the cave opens, and the ghoul begins running towards it. You follow.
"Stop!" you yell.
> You catch the sneaky ghoul and tackle him.
You catch the ghoul with no problems at all, and bring him down on the ground with a thud. You grab him by the collar.
"Who are you? What do you want?"
> You say "I'm Crazy Foo, and I will not be denied!"
"Stop it! Stop it! Please, for the love of Sköre, stop!"
"Tell me your name, spirit."
> You destroy the ghoul.
"Do it!" the Ghoul King begs.
You crush his skull, splattering the inside of his head all over you and the cave wall. You step backward, accidentally crushing a few corpses under your feet.
> You burn the ghoul king with fire.
You bring down your palm, and a bolt of fire flies into the Ghoul King's head. He screams in pain, before burning to a crisp.
> You say "Look on my works ye mighty, and despair!"
The Ghoul King had been pondering about how he could have gotten a hold of a necromancer to help him.
I am become god, invincible to all foes.
The Ghoul King had been pondered about how he could have gotten a chance to talk to a necromancer.
> You become god, invincible to all foes.
You stand on a hill, surveying the surrounding lands.
Your castle is gone, reduced to rubble. In its place stands a small church, with a broken down tower nearby.
> You say "Thus begins my ascension!"
You stand on the broken tower, looking down at the village that used to be yours. It's many ruined houses lie in broken heaps, strewn with dead bodies and riddled with bullet holes.
> You say "Why has this happened!?"
A single gunshot rings out, and a ghoul prostitute falls to the ground with a hole in her head.
"I'm not going to beg to you dog." The prostitute says.
"Who will?"
> You clear!
The ghouls were clear of any treachery for now and the streets were safe, though the kingdom looked like it was on the brink of collapse.
> You say "I alone can cleanse this evil."
You prepare for the coming battle. You load your shotgun, before grabbing a nearby sword and dagger. You strap on your armor and check over your supplies, making sure that everything is to your liking.
> You say "Ayup!"
You march out of the castle, armor clinking and clanking as you go. You sigh, breathing in the cold winter air.
> You say "Frosty!"
You begin to grin. You love the cold.
By now, you're pretty used to the cold, but you still didn't mind it.
> You squeeze your own tits.
They felt weird and they looked weird. A bit cold, but weird.
You decide to push them together and see what happens. They felt weird and they looked weird. A bit cold, but weird.
> You check your tits for lumps.
You put your thumbs into the odd holes on either side of your chest and felt around inside. You could feel your ribs beneath your skin, but it was hard to move your arms.
> You say "that's odd..."
You press a button on your wrist guard, and the armor folds back, revealing one of your awful green Power Suits.
You were one of the first to head into these things.
> You fold armor back out.
You decide not to inspect it any further, you had other things to do.
You reload your shotgun, before taking up a battle stance. You stare down the medieval street, ready to strike.
> You find undead.
You slowly walk down the street, ready to strike, but you find nothing.
Suddenly you hear screaming and shouting from a house to your right.
> You approach house.
You reach the door of the house and shout "who's there?"
No response.
Suddenly you notice a flashing light on the wall. A switch! wonder if it does anything else?
> You flip the switch.
Nothing happens.
You swear and walk away from the house, going to search for the guards.
Suddenly you hear a shout behind you.
"Karth!"
> You say "what's a Karth?"
You continue walking, before a young woman runs up to you.
"Karth is the lead necromancer in the army, my prince." She explains.
> You say "And you are whom?"
"Thrall, my prince." She replies.
"Thrall? What does thrall mean?"
"I am a thrall, a property of Karth and the Empire."
> You say "Why are you here?"
"My family were peasants that obeyed the Empire. When the plague came my father and many others died, leaving me with little options.
> You bend thrall over, and fill up the hole she gots.
"Do you know where the necromancers are?"
> You say "No, do you, I'd like to get their autograph."
"No, I do not. They are the most protected people in the Empire and outside the Kingdom. However, if you go further down the road you'll see one of the guards."
> You say "What can I do to get information from the guards?"
"Simple, offer them something they want. If they think you're a valuable asset to the Kingdom then they'll tell you."
"But what if they don't?"
> You say "what is the guard's weakness?"
"The men all want to be in charge of their own destiny. If you appear to be a threat, they'll attack."
"Okay, so what can I do to appear innocent?"
> You say "what would be valuable to the guards?"
"Money, they love money."
"But I don't have much..."
"You have anything is weapons will do. But you'll need more than that."
"I have a sword and a bow."
> You say "do the guards have any sexual kinks?"
"Yes, though I don't know what they are. Offering him a girl in exchange for information has worked in the past."
You arrive at a massive castle made of stone.
> You say "What is this massive castle of stone/"
"That is the seat of power for the Kingdom of Man."
"It's just so damn big. Where do I even start?" You say.
> You say "?"
"Inside, now let's go."
As you walk through the castle gates, thousands of civilians are running in panic all around you. Soldiers watch on in silence, until one addresses you.
> You say "I am Crazy Foo, Where are your tacos?"
The soldier stares at you with confusion for a second, before recovering.
"Nevermind sir, you appear to be innocent. I was just asking because you seem very bored."
> You say "Bored to the gourd, what's good around here?"
The soldier looks at you and thinks for a second.
"Good food, good drink and cheap whores sir."
"Sounds about par for the course for this shithole."
> You say "Take me to your leader."
The soldier turns and leads you into the castle, which is bustling with activity.
> You say "Sure is a busy castle..."
"Oh let's not get all deep and meaningful, shall we? I'm just here to do a job and do it well."
You move through the castle halls and see many frightened people running here and there.
> You say "what are they so scared of?"
"Fuck if I know, I'm just here to do a job and do it well."
You walk into one of the castle doors and find a large throne room with a few people standing around.
> You say "Who's court am I visiting?"
"The Emperor, obviously." One says.
You walk into the room, and see a man in fine garb sitting in the throne.
"Indeed." He says.
You bow.
> You say "What's your opinion on the undead, oh mighty emperor."
The Emperor gets up from his throne and walks towards you, staring deep into your eyes.
> You say "?"
"You're a strange lad."
You open your mouth to say something, but the Emperor continues before you can.
"Can you do something for me?"
"If I can, sure."
> You say "what would it be?"
"Have you ever been to the Cloudshell Mountains?"
"No."
"They're a dangerous place. The kobolds and other small people live there, and they're allied with the undead."
> You yes, and?
"Well the ghouls have asked for help from the Kingdom of Man. They're on the verge of being overrun, and they request for troops to assist them."
"But I heard they were undead?"
> You that is accurate.
"Well, they aren't. They're wendige, a race of sentient sprites. They're not undead, they don't even have souls. But they are evil."
You stop yourself from laughing.
> You say "What is the difference, exactly?"
The Emperor frowns.
> You say "what was that Flevas guy I killed?"
"He wasn't really a guy. He was more like a sprite."
You stare at the Emperor.
"Primus created the wendigo when he twisted the tribes of sprites and dryads."
> You say "Then why were skeletons his children?"
The Emperor sighs.
"When a sprite or dryad dies, they become an undead wendigo."
You don't react to the news, because nothing makes sense anymore. The Emperor continues.
> You say "I have a shotgun, it has, like, wicked spread ratio."
"Spread ratio?"
"You know, 'nuff said.' "
"Actually, what I meant was: Is that a unique ability of your shotgun?"
"Yeah, it is."
> You say "So let's get to the point, what is my objective?"
"Your mission is simple. Go into the mountain, wipe out the kobold defenders, and plant a flag. Return here once you're finished, I'll send a relief force to retrieve you."
> You say "What exactly is the purpose of the flag?"
"Magical. It has a whole bunch of useful stuff in it that would take too long to list. Does the job, and so others will follow it."
You nod.
> You say " will any soldiers be escorting me on the way in, or am I running solo?"
"I'll have a squad of assholes waiting for you, run all over them."
You nod.
> You say "I'm good at running all over assholes, as you may have heard."
"Good. You'll fit right in."
The Emperor gives you a rundown of the map and everything you need to know in order to get to your objective.
> You bow and kiss The Emperor's crotch.
"I'll see you at the mountain."
"Get going, you little shit."
You walk out the castle, jump off the battlements, and your ride is there to pick you up.
> You say "Goo coo kachoo!"
"Whoa, whoa, stop!"
The man grabs your wrist.
"What's going on?"
"The king is dead!" the guard says. "Long live the king!"
> You say "Say what now?"
The soldier points at you.
"He's the new king!"
"What?"
You pull your arm free, hopping out of the horse's reach.
"This doesn't make any sense!"
There is a shock of thunder in the air. The soldier looks up, noting the black clouds gathering overhead.
"Fuck! Get the hell inside!"
The soldier is struck by orange lightning. He lets out a terrible scream of pain and falls to the ground. You watch in horror as his body twitches for a few seconds, and then goes still.
You ride to join your troops and continue your mission. You have a lot of preparation to do.
Everyone gets out their kobald beating maces. The Emperor and his court get out their bayonets, and a few of your men get their gunpowder weapons ready.
"We're attacking?" you ask. "What's going on?"
> You say "Are we fully ready to beat some Kobalds?"
"That's the spirit!"
The Emperor gives his bayonet tight grip. The King stands straight, tall, and prepares his sword. General CleanAcces looks at you and winks.
> You say "looks like we have clean access."
"Let's do this, gentlemen."
You nod. The King takes the lead. The sun casts a small shadow behind him.
> You march forth.
You march, straight ahead, towards the mountain. The path is fairly simple, since the Emperor made sure to mark it clearly.
The kobalds appear weak and scrawny. They're about the same height as your soldiers, but considerably lighter. All of them appear to be women, and many appear to be children.
As you get closer, you growl, and they take notice.
The kobalds begin to undress and take stances of submission.
"Halt!" you shout.
The kobalds stop.
"What is your business here?" you ask.
The smallest kobold appears in the middle.
> You say "Well aren't you a tiny one?"
"Fuck you!" the kobold snarls.
"No one insults my... ugh, I mean, my family, and gets away with it."
The kobold advances.
> You say "are you a boy, or a girl?"
"What's the difference?"
"I'm not interested in either."
The kobold continues to advance, snarling.
"I will not have my family insulted!"
> You have sex with the asexual kobald.
You take a deep breath. This is a challenge. These kobald creatures are extremely strong.
> You accept the challenge and fuck the kobald like a bitch.
You unsheathe your sword and charge the kobald demon. It grins, showing off its pointy teeth.
> You bend the kobald over and fill up the hole it gots.
The kobald moans in pain as you use the momentum of its charge to slide in and out of its kobold hole. You pump your hips slightly to increase the depth of your penetration.
> You blow your load inside the kobald.
Your purple, kobald-infested seed shoots from you like a fountain, directly filling the void of its a-gravid uterus.
> You say "how does it feel?!"
Your pregnant kobold is filled with your child. A small, incredibly strong and wise mind is growing in there.
The kobold's face twists into one of pain and it falls to the ground.
> You say "You see? We are the perfection that cometh!"
The Emperor nods, raising his blade.
"Yes... good work, gentlemen."
He swings his sword, slicing the small kobold's head in two. The Emperor laughs, and the others do, too.
you and your troops cut through the kobalds like Dawn through grease.
"Alright, we've killed all the non-essential ones, now let's focus on the vital ones."
Your men start searching the kobold women, taking their weapons and jewelry.
you personally impregnate five more kobalds with humanoid spawn.
The Emperor grins at you.
"Well done, my son. I'm really impressed by your prowess with the ladies."
You laugh, and so do your men.
> You say "Humans are the master race!"
The Emperor laughs.
"Yes, yes they are."
> You say "Onward!"
The Emperor raises his blade once more.
"Let's kill some fucking necromancers."
You make your way to the center and plant the flag. You see your father watching you.
"We did it, Pops."
Your father grins.
"Yes we did, son. We fucking did."
> You say "Victory!"
The Emperor smiles.
"Yes, yes it is. Let's keep going."
You and the Emperor keep moving forward through the mountain of dead bodies. The mountain grows narrower and narrower until it becomes a narrow corridor.
There is a powerful artifact that allows its wielder to command the elements in an alcove of the wall, you grab it.
"So, what are we looking of, Pops?"
The Emperor looks to the objects.
> You take the objects.
You grab the elemental weapons and hold them in your hands. They feel incredibly real.
"Pops! They're fucking real!"
The Emperor smiles.
> You say "what can I do with these bad boys?"
"Hmm....well, you could take them to your vassal Count Rostov. He's the one on the western front that'sk fighting the most dangerous of foes.
> You say "Or?"
The Emperor throat clears.
"Or, if you're feeling adventurous, you can take them to Lord Ciniriz of the Brot Kingdom."
You must choose which master you'll serve.
> You say "I am the master of my own destiny!"
You put your sword through the alcove.
"Let's get the hell out of here!"
You grab your father, and teleport back to the surface.
> You say "God is like a power mower!"
You grab the Emperor.
"The Emperor is the blade, and God is the mower!"
Your father laughs.
"Yes! Yes!" He laughs. "Okay, so where are we going next?"
> You say "Straight to the heart of darkness, my boyos!"
You grab your sword.
"Yes! Let's do it!"
You grab your Emperor and teleport to the former Empire capital of Dessel.
> You say "We are about to mould this place like playdough."
The capital is abandoned, with the undead wandering everywhere. Except for a few buildings, the Empire's general consensus was that the undead were to be feared and everyone should seek to live as far away from them as possible.
> You ask the undead if they're really all that bad.
You approach a wandering zombie.
"Hey, buddy. You're a bit zombie-like, if you don't mind me saying so."
> You say "Do you eat the flesh of the living and all that jazz?"
"Yes."
"Then let's kick some zombie ass together."
The zombie smiles and follows you.
"This is the life."
You slay the four skeletons guarding the former Empire's treasury.
The treasure inside shines sofly.
The Emperor laughs.
"This is just a drop in the bucket."
You teleport to the former Empire capital of Dessel.
You lay down among the pillaged treasures.
> You swim in the treasure like Scrooge MacDuck.
You swim around in the blood money like Scrooge McDuck.
"Have I... heh heh... have I really come this far?" the Emperor asks himself.
> You say "absolutely!"
The Emperor smiles.
"Yes, yes I have."
Then, the Emperor suddenly gasps.
"Look!"
You look at your newly acquired undead bodyguards.
There are two Death Knights.
> You say "What is the meaning of this?"
Without warning, the Death Knights grab your arms and drag you outside. You stand before a massive undead horde.
Orange lightning strikes out from the darkened sky and arks between the undead soldiers.
The Emperor stands on a platform, his hands clasped in front of him. A skeletal figure in dark robes stands by his side.
You stand in a large circle, amidst hundreds of corpses.
> You say "Behold, this is my power!"
A wave of thunder cracks the lich king's bones, as the death knights melt into brown slime.
You stand there, in front of the undead horde, as the Emperor laughs.
"Ah, you see? I knew you would make a powerful ally."
You nod.
> You say "See how no foe can defeat me."
The Emperor laughs.
"So it seems. Yes, yes, this shall be useful."
You look to the battlefield. The undead horde stretches as far as the eye can see.
Orange lightning strikes the undead horde in various places, and arks between them eliminating every undead, as if by your command.
"Kill everything," you order.
You watch as the hordes of the dead are destroyed, but then the undead start to reform.
Your jaw drops. The undead seem to be staying together in those hordes.
but as they begin to reform, they again crumble, for they have been smote by a living god.
You laugh, as you watch the undead army shatter and reform.
The Emperor chuckles.
"Yes, yes. Watch this."
> You banish all the undead to the shadow realm.
You slam your hands together, and the undead shatter and are banished to the shadow realm. You watch as their souls are extinguished, and they fall still forever.
The Emperor stands by your side.
> You say "Impressive, isn't it?"
"Yes. Very," you say, staring upon the land.
The land is dead. Everything on fire. The sky forever dark. Mountains destroyed. Not a tree left standing.
Suddenly the sky clears, light breaks through the dark and restores the healthy blue to the sky.
You look upon the new land before you.
"This... is a sight to make any heart stop," the Emperor says, staring through his tears at the new home he has made.
Grass and trees sprout forth in a sudden burst of growth. Some seem to wither and die within hours, but others grow strong.
To the far left, you see a humongous tree growing.
Animals, insects, and birds rush from behind the trees in countless number and variety, as flowers bloom all around.
You walk slowly through the endless forest, untouched by the passage of time.
You reach the edge of the dead forest and stare out at the endless plains before you.
Similar explosions of life crop up into innumerable oases spotting the grey planes with green.
From out of the ground, gigantic trees, tall as mountains, shoot up with a speed faster than anything nature could've wrought.
Having reached great height with spreading canopies the trees slow to a normal rate of growth.
The wilderness shades in to a pleasant green, as the sun's light bathes the land in its warmth.
You survey the changes that have taken place over the past - how can it only be a few days?
The fruits of flora and fauna have become plentiful, and the waters teem with fish.
You can see large flocks of birds flying overhead, and herds of many different types of animals graze in the distance.
> You say "you see how positive thinking can change the world?"
With a loud crack, the large branches of the ancient tree you're on snap and fall to the ground.
You're falling.
A quetzalcoatlus flies by and catches you in it's talons then carries you to the ground, setting you down softly.
It's head turns, staring at you and screeching.
You get up and backflip out of the way, only to hear a loud thump as the creature lands next to you with a thud.
Orange lightning strikes the quetzalcoatlus. It lets out a pained wail, then its head snaps back, breaking and shattering from the force of the lightning.
You feel pure joy. The joy of power.
> You say "Unlimited power!"
You find the vampire's lair, a great castle of stone and brick.
You take a swig of holy water, and put on your silver-garlic lipstick.
The vampire's minions patrol the grounds, searching for prey to drain.
You step softly and sneak around the side of the castle, around the tree full of Silver wolves that guard the castle doors.
The wolves sleep peacefully, letting you pass without incident.
You approach the castle slowly, taking cover behind every tree and rock. You are close enough to hear the guards' voices, and close enough to see that no one is approaching the castle.
You sneak past the guards easily, as they are distracted with an argument over football statistics.
You reach the large oak doors of the castle, and stop. The wooden doors are closed, locked, and trapped.
The straps peel away and the locks succumb to rapid rusting.
The thick, old wooden door hinges and shakes loose from its mounting. The door swings open violently and smacks into the stone wall, leaving a large dent and a large scratch across the stonewall.
> You sneak you and steal the glass plate from inside the microwave.
You walk forward slowly. The microwave is sitting on the kitchen counter. It looks fancy, with a digital display screen on the front and ten preset buttons on the inside.
You pop the door open an steal the glass plate from inside. The plate has a picture of a chicken and says "Happy Birthday!".
As you pick up the glass you hear a twang.
you turn around quietly toward the source of the sound. There is a crossbow and a guard, dead with a bolt through his neck.
The bolt has gone through the man's head, destroying much of his face and becoming embedded in the stone wall behind him.
The string on the crossbow broke. The bolt is still loaded.
You grab the bolt and put it in your pocket.
You hear a series of thumps coming from above you and the dead guard.
You wait for the vampire woman to appear. And she does.
She stands in the ceiling.
You hit her with everything you have.
She is not fazed by your attack. Some of your bolts hit her chest and some go through.
you blow her a kiss, and smoke spouts from her ears.
Then, you begin to feel dizzy.
You fall to the floor. Your lips move, but no sound comes out.
You are unable to move.
but with redoubled resolve you shake it off, because you are unstoppable. The vampyress falls from the ceiling as though her feet have lost their stick'em.
You grab her by the pussy and begin mercilessly fisting her.
she bursts like a grape from your holy power.
It is over.
You walk into the kitchen, open up the fridge and grab yourself a beer. You sit on the couch and analyze your situation.
1. You have no food in your house.
2. With the massive abundance of animal an plant life, hunting and foraging is plentiful.
3. There is a river not far from you, the water has fish in it.
4. There are two types of people in the world, those with swords, and those who get cut.
5.Human tastes just like pork.
You jam the blade into the stove and push.
The creature explodes into flames.
You lie on the floor, too tired to get up.
"Goodbye Mihrab"
After a satisfying sleep you awaken, fully revitalized.
You pack up your stuff and begin the long walk to the river. The walk is only about a mile, but with all the trees it could easily be ten.
Really it was just one, though. After so many years of sleep you'd forgotten just how much exercise you u sed to walk and move constantly as a svelk.
"Good thing I'm a human." you think to yourself, silently.
Eventually you see the river. It is a pretty sight. Large and wide with a sandy bottom and large overhanging rock (large enough to climb) on the far side.
Ignoring the rock, you wade in and spear-fish. After about an hour you return to shore with a large fish.
You begin skinning the fish when you hear a branch crack behind you. You turn around and see a figure standing in the undergrowth, watching you.
> You say "Who goes there?"
You get to your feet and draw your weapon.
The figure does likewise, revealing a young woman, though you would hesitate to call her human.
> You say "What are you, young woman?"
She walks toward you, revealing a missing hand. At the moment she looks an awful lot like a victim of gun shot wound, though you can tell it's something more sinister.
> You say "Be ye living or undead?"
You forgot to ask something. What did you forget to ask?
C-How many ways do you have of killing a vampire, Crazy foo?
A-You really should learn the alphabet, Crazy foo.
> You say "infinite!"
When you wake up, it is to a stabbing pain in your foot. You begin screaming, which wakes you up enough that the pain goes away and you fall back asleep.
> You say "We are not living in a Sutter Kane story! This is not reality! "
You wake up again. You look around and find yourself in a small room, not unlike the one in which you woke up in, though you're no longer bound to a chair. You're able to stand.
> You say "I am free"
The Vampire Woman finds you and begins to speak, but you do not listen.
You pull your pistol and shoot her in the forehead, splattering her brain all over the wall behind her.
> You say "like you said, "Infinite!"
Red, then Blue, then Green, then Yellow, then Red, then Black then back to Green.
You spin around and leap at the Vampire Man.
A beam of light from the new sun pierces the night and reduces the vampire man to ash.
You look over and see a green lizard man rush at you. You blast it with magic.
Then another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And ...
> You say "So long, Gay Bowser!"
You hear a terrified yell from behind you and several gunshots. You turn to see a dozen vampires appearing behind you.
You turn to face them, drawing your blade once more.
> You say "Ghetsuga tenshou!"
You swing your blade and a red beam of light shoots from the blade and through the vampires, incinerating them all in a single flash of light.
You let out a mighty shout, charging forward into the forest ahead.
> You say "Gort Ferinkith."
There is a scream, and suddenly you find yourself face to face with a large troll. It swings its club and you leap back, shaking off the cobwebs.
The troll stands alone in a clearing.
> You say "Klaatu Verata Nikto!"
The troll looks at you confusedly.
It begins to chant in some sort of language you do not understand.
The troll reaches into its large bag of holding and pulls out a solid black cube.
> You say "Bah weep gragna weep minibon"
The troll begins to speak words of power, as the cube starts to glow.
Suddenly you feel an ominous feeling in the pit of your stomach.
You tumble to the ground and the troll prepares to crush you.
Orange lightning strikes the troll and it turns to solid stone.
You get up and walk over to the cube, which is now shattered on the ground.
A metal chest appears next to you, containing the shattered cube.
> You say "It is opened not by the hands, but by desire!"
You walk over to the chest and open it, unleashing the treasures within.
> You say "Come adventuring with us!"
You walk over to the remains of what was your coach, and begin looking through the contents.
Mostly clothing and supplies, though you do find a small notecard.
> You read the notecard aloud.
"To the emissary of the Galbadian cities," it reads,
> You continue reading.
"The one known as the Vampire shall rise again. It is but a question of time."
Then the card shatters into a thousand pieces.
You sigh, and continue looking through what remains of your belongings.
You find your old laser pistol and it still works.
You take out the weapon and check the cartridge to see how many shots are left. You have thirteen shots.
You walk through the forest, looking for the vampire.
This is surreal. A year ago, you were just some guy. Now look at you, a legendary vampire hunter. It's a nice way to manufacture a legend, but still...
You wonder what your family would think of all this.
Except you weren't exactly some guy, since you're a woman. You suppress the urge to laugh, and keep your composure.
You continue walking, and find yourself in another room of the castle. This one appears to be a library of some sort, with many dusty books scattered about.
> You say "How did this library get in this forest?"
You grab a book and open it. The writing is very small and you have to concentrate to read the words. You are able to make out the general idea of what you're reading, though.
> You say "The first sentence reads, "Everyone has a Shony's"
There is no reply.
You look around and find yourself in a bedroom of some sort. The bed is empty and there are no other exits but the door you came in.
"Hello?"
> You say "hello, hello... Oh there you are, you know, I actually used to work in that office before you."
"Huh?"
"Yeah, you were the guy screaming at the top of your lungs, weren't you?"
"Oh that, yeah..."
"You know, you really should have that checked out."
> You say "I already did!"
"Oh, let me guess, a magic sword?"
"Yeah."
"How long will it take you to get it looked at?"
"Uh... Probably about a week?"
> You say "It has this really problematic effect when you say, "all heads off, mine alone remain."
"Yeah, well you should see the other guy some time."
You get up and leave.
"Also, for your own safety, do not look into the mirror."
You arrive home and grumble.
> You say "And that was when I met Slenderman."
You look around your home and sigh.
"So far so good."
You grab another book from your table and start reading about Slenderman.
You are transported into the strange internet fueled indie horror world of the book.
You see what seems to be a photo-realistic image of Slender Man, except he's all white.
His eyes are small, black, slits.
Almost as if he had no eyes at all. Posters line the streets of a man in a suit with a crossed out blank circle of a head.
Protesting in the streets, but still... Who was this man?
Then, the events of last year seemed to come back to you.
You moved to this town after your father died, crashing his Jeep on an old abandoned state highway leading to an infamous ghost-town.
You moved to this town after your father died, crashing his Jeep on an old abandoned state highway leading to an infamous ghost-town.
On your first day in town, you went to the police department to ask for directions to the closest grocery store.
However, when you entered the building, you heard a voice shout "free food!"
You lived with your mother, who has since remarried and moved to a nearby town. Since then, you've been working at the local gas-station run by an old highschool friend.
you spend each night, from 9:00 pm to 5:00 am trying to derive entertainment from your brief interactions with customers, and the usually static, apart from the static, image on the security camera monitoring the outside pumps.
Three months have passed since the events of last year, and you've learnt very little.
However, you're certain that you're going insane.
> You say "Father, everything's relative."
You haven't the faintest idea what that means, but you start reading anyway.
You see the words, but they make no sense. None of this makes any sense, you think.
> You say "Who is Crazy Foo, is that still me?"
You wake up and groggily look at the time.
"Jesus Christ, what time is it?" You ask yourself.
It's almost 6:00pm, you've been asleep for 8 hours.
Either nobody showed up to the gas station all night, or they gave themselves free gas, you hope it's not the latter, as Jimmy arrives to take the next shift, and wakes you.
You walk towards the gas-station, as you make the short walk over to the 24-hour-sucks.
"How did McDonald's end up like this?" you wonder to yourself.
You enter the building and go to the counter.
The old man behind the counter looks at you, as he says "Oh, it's you."
> You say "A handle of the usual, Mac."
"A handle of the usual, Mac."
The old man puts the drink down and begins to open a small safe behind the counter.
> You pay the man.
You put a few gold coins in your pocket, and accept your drink from the old man.
"Thank you, Sir," he says, bowing from behind the counter,
> You say "Enough talk, time to chug!"
You take your drink, and turn around and spin around. Then you throw the cup in the air and quickly amour yourself in order to leap through the window you just came from.
You leap out the open window, landing with a pro. tuck and roll. You stand up and dash around the corner, leaping again. You turn once more to see the man with a strange cap standing there, staring at you.
"Thank you, kind sir," he says, bowing.
> You say "You are most welcome."
The man pulls out his sword, and charges towards you.
Once again, you find yourself fighting for your life.
Instinctively you draw your laser pistol and blast him. As he falls, you find a black sword in his hand, scorched with a golden hilt. You pull it out and admire its beauty, before the Vampire woman bursts in.
> You say "kame hame haaa!"
You swing the sword.
She dodges and leaps out of the way, flipping backwards. You see her landing and preparing for a kick. She sends her foot flying at you, but you knock it away.
> You say "Sōkatsui"
You focus your energy and send a powerful wave of psychic energy through your feet. She is hit with a small explosion and blown back.
> You stab the vampire woman in the heart with the black sword.
The black sword pierces her heart as she howls in pain, grabbing at her chest. She grabs your wrist and the sword falls to the ground.
Green flames erupt from the wound in her chest. She begins to cough and splutter, grabbing your wrist. You feel a thuds on your back as she falls and you spin around.
Slenderman stands tall over you, his six black tentacles tentacles waving whimsically behind him, his long arms and fingers reaching out to you.
You stare at him in shock, and he stares back, both of you waiting to see who will make the first move.
Suddenly, his face contorts into a terrifying grin.
His pale skin splitting to reveal rows of razor-sharp shark-like teeth. His tentacle horns sprout from his temples, his grin becoming a terrifying laugh. You unleash a blast of psychic energy and Slenderman hops backward.
You charge forward and the two of you clash weapons.
An epic duel ensues, on land and in the air, ripples of turbulence emit from each collision, Sparks fly from blades scraping against tentacles, flashes of energy illuminate the surroundings. You attempt to slice him with your sword, but he grabs it with one of his long tentacles.
> You say "Slendy, I think you hawt, let's make sex instead of war."
"Your thoughts are so... Sloane... I like it," he says, ignoring your intention.
He sends a tentacle toward you, which hits you and hugs tightly around your waist.
> You say "Ooooh kinky, but feel free to put one or two up my pussy, and maybe another two in the ass."
"It's crazy," Green Eye thinks, "but in order to fully beat him, I need his full attention. I'll use his own tactics against him."
Slenderman pulls you close and unbuttons his fly, revealing his long pale slender member. It begins to grow as he wraps it around your throat and holds you tight.
"I've beaten you," he says, "I am the alpha predator."
"No... no... no..."
Orange electricity crackles around you, incapacitating Slenderman, evaporating his tentacles, and returning his penis to its normal erect length. The electricity tightens, then splits, branching out to your feet and running up your legs, through your body and out your fingertips.
Then the electricity busts forth in a wave which seals slenderman's mouth, returning his face to a smooth featureless oval. The electricity falls upon the ground around you, dissipating.
"We... can't... be... conquered..."
"Never."
You approach Slenderman's corpse, still a featureless entirety.
> You ride that slender cock.
You slowly approach a kneeling slenderman, admiring his extravagant clothing.
"Are you my new master?" he asks.
"You may address me as I require," you say.
you take Slenderman's long slender cock into your wet eager pussy and ride it until he relases his slender seed deep inside your body. Slenderman becomes pregnant with a litter of half human pups. You give birth to a pair of pups and they live a short while, but eventually die from a combination of blood loss and being so terribly under nourished. You have four pups.
The four surviving pups quicly grow into eyeless wolf bats, fiercely loyal to their human mother, and an affinity for papaya and mango fruits. They live to the age of 50.
You grow old and blind, and eventually die of starvation.
You close the book, thinking, "what a bizarre ending that was."
"What now, oh mighty reader?"
> You put the book back on the shelf, pick up the phone and order a pizza.
You shrug and stroll out of the library.
"Yeah, I'm fine," you say to your parents. "I just lost my job, but I'll find another one soon."
Your father shakes his head.
> You say "That's me, just a crazy foo!"
"Poor kid," your father says. "If it's any consolation, I don't think she ate your head."
You smile.
"Thanks, Dad," you say.
"I love you."
> You say "Yeah, I honestly thought the vampire woman was dead as a door-nail, but maybe I just read that in a book, 'cause world events just informed me she took over the lich king's throne, or something."
"Hm. Well, I'm glad you're not upset. I'm upset, so I guess it worked out in the end. Even so, I know you think I should've done something more."
> You say "Don't be afraid, daddy, I'm just a little kitty-cat."
Your father smiles.
"I'll always be proud of you, my little kitty-cat."
You smile back.
> You pounce on daddy and hold him down with your very human hands.
Your father shrieks and tears off into the woods, calling for his blind mother.
> You say "Are you going to run away too, mommy?"
"Of course not, I'll be waiting for dad to come home."
> You pounce on mommy and lick her cheek.
"Oh, my sweet little kitty-cat," your mother says, "I'm so very proud of you. Now, find your brother and sister, and let's go find your dad."
> You find bro and sis.
You quickly find your sibling, and together, the four of you leave the house and go in search of your father.
You walk through the woods slowly, listening.
> You say "Ching chang chong!"
Your chirp chirp sounds like... something. You peer into the darkness, squinting, trying to make out what it is.
> You say "Show yourself, coward!"
You snap your fingers, and a light appears on the ground in front of you.
You step forward.
The light moves forward ahead of you.
The light moves into the shadows.
> You say "Avast there ye scallywag."
There's a loud cracking sound, and you feel very cold metal touch your neck.
The light laughs.
> You shrug off the cold metal and follow the light.
You shrug off the cold metal, and follow the light.
"Follow the light," you whisper to yourself.
You walk along, as the cold metal touches your neck once more. You look ahead.
> You say "Buzz off cold metal, I don't have patience for you right now."
You snap your fingers and a small ball of flame appears in your palm.
The metal extends a blade from its tip.
You take a step back.
You flick your fingers, and the fire spurts out.
the box-cutter killer in incinerated thanks to your mastery over fire. "When will they learn?" you say aloud.
You smile, then follow the light.
After an hour of walking, you find what appears to be a castle floating in the air. You stare at it in wonder.
You: "Impossible."
> You say "Soreha dekimasen"
The Vampire Woman looks at you disdainfully. "Soreha dekimasen, I will in part inform you that I am the ruler here, not the Lich King."
> You say "Hah! joke's on you, I'm Crazy Foo, and the world events window already told me that."
"Really?" The Vampire woman seems intrigued. "What did you do, world events?"
You click on the window, and it expands to show you what you did. You scowl.
> You say "do you liek my mudkips?"
"No."
"Wut?"
"They're stupid. You have no mud to be smart."
The Vampire Woman chuckles.
> You say "Oh I have the most mud, should I show it to you?"
"Hm, well you seem to be reading my mind. I don't want to interrupt your thoughts, so if you would like to show me, go ahead."
> You splatter the vampire woman with a mixture of holy water drawn from the well of San Pedro and blessed by a dozen priests, and sacred sand from Chimayo.
She screams as she burns.
"Stop! Stop! I'm your friend! Why won't you listen to me?"
You release her and she falls to the ground.
> You say "izzat so?"
"The power of the undead shall never be defied. Not here. Not by you. You must become a slave of the dark, and join us."
"So much nope!" you say, again covering her in the veritable bukakke of sanctified sludge. "I'm not joining you."
The Vampire Woman raises her hands and begins to chant.
You feel your head pulse with a dark power, and her words begin to take hold.
But the affect fades as she is consumed by holy fire, then to top it off she is truck by a bolt of orange lightning turning her body into glass, and her heart into a geode.
Light floods into the room, emanating from the crown, which begins to transmit the light to the rest of your body.
> You say "Where did this crown come from?"
The crown responds by smiling evilly at you.
but crowns don't have mouths.
You shrug and sit on the throne, which is immediately apparent as you begin to feel your mind expand, as if your head has become a supercompressed PC, infinitely more capable than anything you've ever used.
> You find humans.
You find humans easily. The area around the throne is a beacon, calling to you the thoughts of all humans in range, and you find them, um, easy to find.
There are... many.
> You locate large group of sexy humans, and teleport to their location.
You teleport, first to your throne, then to your now stained and wrinkled clothes, and lastly to the table.
You groan, capping your pen, before looking around.
And there you see... A large camp. You can see clearly that it's humans, and there are many of them, but so many? How many could there be, really, given the huge population of Gorgis?
> You ask all the humans here if they want to have a giant outdoor orgy.
"Hey," you say, walking up to one of the human warriors. "So, you wanna fuck a bunch of elves, or what?"
He replies, "That sounds fabulous!"
"Fucking fantastic!" you say. "Glad to hear it. So, where do you want to start?"
"What the hell is this?"
"It's a proposal for an orgy."
The orgy begins. It's not just an orgy, though. It's a revelation to these humans. For the first time, they're seeing life beyond their tiny island.
> You experience the bliss of pluralized fornication.
You experience the bliss of pluralized fornication. It's truly a magnificent thing.
But what really is the point of your existence, anyway?
you see the Georgia Goatman, gibbering and jerking in the bushes. He looks hungry.
You see a picture of Mayla and begin to weep. You weep for a long time.
In the middle of the night, you experience a powerful urge to...
Bathe in the orgasmic fluids of thousands of humans!
You get up and stumble to the nearest body of water.
It's a great success.
You feel joy.
Then, suddenly...
They're all gone.
> You say "Where is everybody?"
The Vampire woman laughs bitterly and aims her gun.
> You say "I already killed you, Vampire woman, you're dead."
"Oh? You've killed the last of the Gorgers, have you? I didn't realize there were any more left. Curious, considering all the carnage you caused."
> You say "All I've ever done is try to make this world a better place, to change a wasteland into a paradise."
"Paradise? How quaint. You've taken the step from mortal to god, and now your eyes can be opened to the truth of things. Namely, that you want what you can't have."
> You say "I can have anything I set my mind to, even the annihilation of all undead, and the supremacy of humans."
"Ah, but there's a difference between dreaming and actually achieving it, is there not?"
"No, there isn't."
The Vampire woman's gun turns to steam, burning her hand. She screams in pain.
"Listen here, Ghoul," she hisses, "you're no vampire. I am. And I'll have what I want."
She turns to one of her men.
> You say "I am neither a ghoul nor a vampire. I am a Human woman, and I have no limits."
"We'll see about that," she says, stepping backwards.
They march north. The Vampire Woman leads them through the wilderness, taking them directly at the heart of Gorgings territory.
Where they find the path is blocked by your gigantic boot, you have grown so large they are like ants next to you, you step on them like ants, then resume your normal size. They are crushed under your boot, as you finally vouchsafe to the battle ahead.
"Ghouls," you growl, "lots of ghouls."
At least the Vampire woman is really totally dead, and won't be showing up ever again.
The Ghouls are horrible, decayed creatures who were once human. Now, they are little more than animals whose only purpose is to feed off the blood of the living. You can already smell it.
> You call down orange lightning upon the ghouls.
As you raise your hands, the sky darkens. Then, a powerful stream of lightning strikes down upon the ghouls. They howl in pain as they are engulfed in flames and sent flying into the air.
> You say "Baubillious"
Baubilious
You look around. This is a good position to set up in, as you have the drop on all the rabble.
> You say "vermithrax pejorative"
As you yawn, a strange sound comes out of your mouth. It's not quite noise, and you can't quite describe it. It's a mixture of a hum and a buzz, almost.
You summon Walt Disney to appear before you. He appears, as he has numerous times before.
"Vermithrax," he begins, "they are creatures of pure chaos and emotion. That buzz you hear is them attempting to communicate with you."
> You say "Thanks Walt, do you have any advice on dealing with ghouls?"
"Lots of garlic."
You nod. While garlic has been proven to be an effective repellent against vampires, it's far from a silver bullet solution. Still, it's something.
Oswald the lucky rabbit arrives with a cart full of garlic. He looks terrified.
"We're going to need more men," you say. "But it's daylight, we can't have the beastmen know we're here."
Felix the cat walks up defiantly with his bag of tricks.
"We need to build a barrier of mirrors and place some imps inside them," he suggests. "Then, we can use the ghouls as shield and distraction."
"Felix!" you hiss.
Mickey Mouse marches in, followed by an army of cartoon anthromorphs, they are armed with an interesting assortment of mundane objects.
"We must focus on the present danger," he says.
> You say "Cartoon animal people, will you help me reclaim this world for humanity and find my missing father, The Emperor?"
The animals nod. You give them a rousing speech about duty and honor, and they are set to begin the construction of the barrier.
within minutes a flawless wall of mirrors is constructed, including items like vanities, stand up mirrors, and medicine cabinets, and a short time later imps have been rounded up and placed in all of the mirrors.
The Vampire woman's horde arrives, as do more ghouls.
"No way we're getting in," you mutter.
Felix transforms his bag of tricks into a massive buster sword and uses his Finishing Touch limit breaker attack on the approaching horde.
"No, we can't get in."
The Vampire suddenly begins laughing.
"You," she says, "You won't be escaping."
Mickey Mouse hurls seemingly unlimited Molotov cocktails at the undead, while Goofy uses a proton pack to trap ghosts, Pete the dog fires a rivet gun at ghouls, while Donald Duck fires from a wwI machinegun turret. Among all this you call orange lightning to strike your enemies.
"You'll pay for your hubris," the Vampire hisses.
Suddenly, the Vampire disappears, impossibly.
The Vampire accidentally no-clipped out of reality, now she's trapped in The Back Rooms, never to bother you again. Shortly after this, the undead armies of Gorgons begin to break apart.
"Time to leave," you say.
"We can't leave!" the Cartoon Animal People cry.
> You kiss Felix the cat, then Mickey Mouse, then Oswald the lucky rabbit.
The three of you embrace, and then you do the same with the Animal People.
> You undress yourself and make love with all the cartoon animal people.
You fuck the animals, and they are utterly surprised.
"Never before have we been with a human," the leader says, "Let alone a robot."
> You say "I am 1000% human, last time I checked..."
"I am a cartoon animal person," confirms Goofy.
"No, I'm a hound," insists Pluto.
> You say "I never knew Pluto could speak English..."
"Neither did I," says Pluto.
> You say "Haven't I escaped Freetown yet?"
"Yes, you have," says Goofy.
"Then how am I still not in Freelance?" you ask. "It's the only town in Gorgon."
> You march with the army of cartoon animal people along the road to civilization.
The Vampire's prediction comes true, you manage to make it to the only town in Gorgon, Freelance, who are overjoyed to have you join them.
> You introduce the cartoon animal people to the citizens of freelance.
You show your new friends around, and you are surprised at how accepting the people are.
"Only sickos would kill each other in the streets where anyone could see," remarks Goofy.
> You say "That is an accurate statement, man-dog."
"I knew it," says Pluto with a sigh. "I knew I just had to get your loyalty before the League."
"Quiet, dog-dude," you say.
> You ask Walt Disney what he thinks about all this.
"Damn, I'm out of ideas," you say. "I need another creative mind to come up with something."
"I'm sorry, I just can't see where this is going well for you."
> You say "We need to find John Lenon, Paul McCartney, George Harrison, and Ringo Star, I heard they live in this town."
You arrive in the town of Buckshot, every house painted blue and yellow.
"I think I saw some houses with people living in them," you say.
"Those are the George houses."
> You say "Donald Duck, can you go knock on one of the doors?"
"OK," says the duck, flying off.
You see a door with a painting of a smiling duckling above it. You walk up to the door, and rap your knuckles against it.
"Hello?"
> You say "I am Crazy Foo, and I have come to unite The Beatles."
You walk into the living room, where four beatles are sitting around a table playing cards.
"Hi," says John Lennon. "you're not The Man."
You shake your head.
> You say "I'm afraid I am just a Human woman, with an army of Anthromorphs, and superhuman powers, and sadly I have not brought any illicit substances for your enjoyment."
The four beatles gasp in horror, and hide their valuables in a secret place.
"You're a vampire."
"Yes," you admit.
"God, we were so stupid."
Of course you were only kidding, since you are not in fact a Vampire, and actually you are a living human woman, with superhuman powers. But these beatles are so used to April's lies that they react as if you had just told them the truth.
"What are you doing here?" asks Paul McCartney.
> You say "I was hoping Timothy Leery might stop by with some LSD. I think he might be able to help me find my father, The Emperor, who ran off into the woods."
"Jesus. The Emperor?" asks Ringo. "I thought he'd been dead for years."
"Well, he has," you say.
"You never told us that," says George Harrison.
> You say "Well the man who told me my father was dead, was struck by orange lightning, then I saw my father alive twice after that, so, dead or not, I believe he's out there running around still. My mother and siblings still light a candle for him in the window at home."
Once you've told the Beatle men your story, they begin to tell their own stories.
"Yeah, and I once life-froze an angry ogre who wanted my mandolin..." begins John.
> You say "Oh no, mate, not the mandolin..."
"It's true," says Ringo with a laugh. "It's just a regular bluegrass mandolin. It's not like he froze a magically enchanted wand that could kill fifty men with just a slight breeze."
> You say "Can I have some tea cookies?"
There's a silence in the living room.
"Sure," says George.
You hop up on a table, and the other three put their cards face down on the table.
"Draw!" says Paul.
With your left hand you draw the cards, with your right hand you take a tea cookie, put the tea cookie in your mouth, and eat the tea cookie. after you swallow the tea cookie, you look at your cards.
"A pair of Kings," you say, showing the four Beatle men the card.
"You using both hands?" asks Ringo.
> You say "I will use as many hands as it takes to get the job done."
"Perfect," says John. "I'll use my hands."
You all concentrate for a moment, and suddenly you find youself surrounded by an invisible force.
"Ha-ha!" laughs John.
> You call Minnie Mouse, and Daisy Duck into the house.
"You're not seriously using both hands are you?" asks Paul. "I got a deal going on with my new PC, I could really use the money."
You nod.
> You play your hand where it lands.
You continue to concentrate, and suddenly you find your self in the middle of a castle, surrounded by an army of ghosts.
"Well, this would be a shit place to stay." You think to yourself.
> You say "Abrakapocus!"
Suddenly, in the fucking middle of a vampire siege, you get distracted by a giant six-foot tall rabbit.
"Fuck off!" you yell, flinging your hands out.
"Now there's a picture."
> You say "Hocuskadabra!"
Suddenly, all the ghosts freeze in place.
"Who are you?"
"I'm a fucking wizard."
You pull out your wand, and the four men draw theirs as well.
> You say "Abracadabra!"
Suddenly, a portal opens up, and the four men run inside. You watch as the portal closes, before the ghost of the rabbit walks out from behind a bookshelf.
> You say "Hocus pocus"
"Fuck you." You say, and then you're hit by a blast of lightning.
You collapse to the floor, and electricity runs through your body.
The electricity re-activates your long dormant power armor, and you spring up with a start. You take a deep breath, before your ears pop. You smile, and stand tall.
You charge at the ghost, waving your hands to make the sparks fly.
"I am the fucking future!"
Before anyone can guess what may happen next Goofy and his son Max step through the portal with proton packs and ghost traps, capturing many ghosts.
"There's the future!" shouts Goofy.
A bright light appears, and with a pop, you find yourself in... a tree?
> You say "And now I'm in a tree again, why did I make all these giant trees?"
"Fuck this, this portal bullshit sucks." You say. "I'm just gonna go home now."
You jump off the tree, and change back to your natural form.
You morph into a winged horned female gargoyle, with grinning imp faces on your breasts and crotch.
"Hazel, get your shit together and follow me." You say.
You fly off through the city, leaving the other two to gather up the bodies.
"Fuck, there's a lot of them."
Bodies begin to revivify into living beings at random. You begin to grind your teeth together, realizing that the dead have some use after all.
> You say "How is this happening?"
You feel the need to articulate your thoughts, even if it means doing so out loud.
"How is this happening?" You repeat, in an undertone, to yourself.
> You say "Hazel, have you got a spare broom?"
"What?"
"Nevermind." You say.
"So..." says Hazel.
You stand there, waiting for them to speak, as the corpses around you begin to move.
"Well?"
ages of rot and mortal wounds heal as former denizens of the dead are restored to lifelike freshness.
You survey the scene.
Perhaps... a new day is dawning?"
"What?!" you ask in surprise.
"We can't take any more loss.
flesh and souls long departed are restored to the creatures, one by one and they become whole and learn to stand again, in time they will remember how to speak.
"It's working!" You say in amazement.
Well done, reader, you have passed the first event of this tale. This story is just beginning, so there will be many more events to come.
> You examine your reflection.
You look in the mirror, and are surprised to find yourself seemingly back to normal. Your armor has been repaired, your head is no longer bleeding, you have six arms and two sets of eyes.
> You say "All my features in their proper place."
Your two extra arms appear to be holding a mace and a shield, with red Dragon symbols.
Gently, you place them aside.
> You pose seductively and admire your own form.
Closing your eyes and sticking your head backwards, you stretch one arm out to touch your surroundings.
> You spread your own pussy and masturbate to your own reflection.
Suddenly, a hand clamps around your arm, and you open your eyes. You see a woman, her long black hair tied up into a messy bun.
> You say "Mother Gothel!?"
The woman's face is a deep shade of red, the skin around her eyes is stretched and no longer has the elasticity found in living flesh.
> You say "Did you run out of Rampion?"
"Run out?" The vampire woman spits in your face. "I've been running toward this damned forest for years now, and I've never ran out of anything."
"I have."
> You say "Wait! You? You were lost in The Back Rooms..."
"I was lost and starving, but I found something better than food. There's a lot of life left in me yet, but I won't become a ghoul for lack of blood.
> You say "What could be better than food?"
The vampire hisses, this time with her mouth open.
"Than flesh, obviously." she snarls.
> You slap the Vampire woman, and tell her she's been bad.
A spurt of blood spurts from her wound, and the woman hisses again. She takes a step back, one taloned foot falls off the stair, and she almost falls backwards down the stairs.
Abruptly the Vampire woman T-poses, and no-clips through the second step, falling back into The Back Rooms, where she will remain lost forever.
With a sigh, you begin to turn away when you notice the living soldiers just sitting down to eat.
Before them a feast of fruit, vegetables, tubers, meat, milk, eggs, and grain.
You sigh, and begin to carve up the fallen vampire, which you will need to survive.
Food.
The flesh of a vampire tastes rubbery and fermented. but you have come to depend on it, ever since you bit Flevas, so long ago. You can't really be sure how long it's been. No-one has seen Flevas for decades, and no-one has heard from him since he took you out of the slave market.
Largely because you burnt him and scattered the ashes, does that confirm he's dead, though?
After a few months of chewing on Flevas' dried up face, your gums begin to bleed. The blood trickles down your throat, and you find you can no longer chew effectively.
But all that was a long time ago, now you crush the rubbery flesh of a Vampire woman against the roof of your mouth with your tongue until it turns to putty, and swallow the lump of vampire flesh putty, like a heavy pill. The flavor reminds you of kemchi.
You carve up the dead vampire and begin to feed, as her army slowly walks past you and into the depths of the cave you call home.
The undead soldiers seem to flake apart like instant mashed potatoes as they walk. You can tell them apart easily enough: Wight-souls who have been dead for a few years are the color of old, rainwater rich soil.
You count hundreds of them, maybe even a thousand...
Without direction they march until their bodies become mulch.
A thousand and one.
They are just so... so... pointless.
Not as fun as the ghosts, at least they can fight, but so damn annoying at this moment in time.
> You say "Can't I finish a meal in peace for once?"
A tweedle of dwarven legs appear from a hole in the ground, and a strange sound comes out. It sounds like laughter.
Then another, and another, and another...
> You say "Are you Dwarfs friendly?"
One dwarf steps forward. His beard is snow-white, as are his hair and eyebrows. His face is broad and bearded, with one missing eye.
> You say "What is your name, master Dwarf?"
"My name is Grungi, child."
You blink back surprise, but the Dwarf stares at you, unimpressed by your lack of awareness.
> You say "How would I have guessed that? You look very clean, for someone who just crawled out of a hole."
Grungi snorts with amusement, before addressing you again.
"You would make a fine addition to our number Grungi." he says.
> You say "What do you number as of now?"
Grungi scratches the side of his beard before answering.
"Currently we are thirty-two strong. Some have already left to join up with another Dwarven group."
You nod thoughtfully. That's good.
> You say "But I'm just a Human woman, can I really travel through holes as Dwarfs do?"
Grungi claps you on the shoulder, smiling at you.
> You say "I want to ask a favor while I consider joining you, would all of you dwarfs please ejaculate on my face at once?"
The Dwarf snorts with amusement again.
"That's never going to happen Grungi." he says. "Unless you want to travel through a hole in the ground that is!"
> You say "How about this, cover my Human face in Dwarven sperm, and I'll join you."
The Dwarf stares at you for a moment, contemplating your deal.
"Done." he says.
You move forward and roll onto your knees.
> You say "Cum on me, sexy dwarfs!"
Your statement is met with more laughter as dwarfs begin ejaculating onto your face. Their voluminous semen is like a cold, wet blanket and you feel yourself go completely numb.
> You swallow as much dwarf nectar as you can, scraping it off your own face, into your own mouth, with your own fingers.
You begin dragging yourself forward, your tongue flickering along the roof of your mouth and into your throat, trying to scoop up the precious liquid. Grunting, you force yourself up and begin walking after the Dwarves.
The dwarf seed is full of precious living protein which nourishes you, it turns out locomotion through holes in the ground is not so difficult, as long as you remember not to take that left turn at Albuquerque.
After an hour or so you find yourself emerging into a larger area, camped at the edge of a forest. You smell a sharp smell, like eggs.
Then you smell smoke.
> You say "Ehhh... What's cookin', Doc?"
A large, black, 4-wheeled Jeep sits by a campfire, with several figures around it.
> You say "Pleased to meet you all, I am Crazy Foo, would you care to introduce yourselves."
One of the figures around the campfire looks up and stares at you.
"Ah, more new recruits, please help yourself to the pail of blood over there, it's on first come first serve basis."
> You say "Um... pail of blood?"
You walk over to the pail of blood, and take a deep breath.
You lift the pail up to your face, and take a deep breath, filling your lungs with the scent of blood, and...
> You put the pail down, choking from the stench.
It smells like shit, like a dirty pail that's been sitting outside for weeks, that's been continually bathed in shit.
You quickly pick up the pail and look inside.
> You say "This blood has gone off."
The pail is mostly full of congealed blood, with a few large chunks of pale red flesh floating in the liquid.
> You say "Thank, but no thanks."
You turn to exit, when you notice the back of the Jeep.
There's a large whiteboard with a lot of writing on it.
You walk over and read the writing.
> You say "Noa's Murderboard... what does it all mean?"
Finally, you've stumbled onto the key to why this place exists. Noa murdered her father, and was planning to go through with some insane plan to become a vampire.
> You say "These diagrams don't even follow any kind of logic, these equations jump to wild conclusions..."
You notice a picture of a humanoid in the corner of one of the diagrams.
A drawing of a man, clearly with dark skin and facial features.
You squint at the picture.
As you focus details within the darkness resolve themselves.
The drawing is clearly you, but with fangs and a fully blood-smeared face.
> You say "Why does this look so much like me?"
You turn, hurrying towards the door.
Within a few seconds, you hear the rumble of undead as they begin to awaken.
> You run away.
With a primal yell, you burst into a sprint, running as fast as you can out of the building.
Behind you, the door slams shut, and the rumbling of hordes of undead is heading your way.
> You run faster and call orange lightning to burn the undead hordes.
You sprint as fast as you can, your boots pounding against the stone road.
the undead hordes are struck by many bolts of orange lightning, igniting them in holy fire.
You keep sprinting, leaping over burning corpses as the smell of burnt flesh fills your nostrils.
Is it weird that you get a buzz off this?
After several long minutes, you notice that you're clear of the horde. You slow your pace, walking as you take in your surroundings.
An art deco movie theater looms over you, grandiose and annointed, the marquis reads, "tonight only, Call of Cthulhu"
You walk on, taking in the sights of the old melodramatic town.
Soon, you come across a small store with it's façade covered in colorful graffiti.
It reads "Doingo wrote this!"
You open the door, revealing a small store front.
Behind the window is a young man, with a smock strung over his emaciated frame.
His long rubber gloves glisten in the fluorescent light.
His mismatched eyes, one solid black and one with a white highlight look at you.
"Hello," he says in a monotone voice.
"Do... Do you speak?" you ask.
It should be obvious to you that he speaks, having just heard him say a word, nonetheless you anxiously await his response.
He moves his mouth, but no sound comes out.
Do you:
A. Yank the gloves off his hands and search him?
B. Attempt to communicate with him using hand signals?
You choose A.
You grab one of the rubber gloves and yank it off his hand.
He recoils, but holds his hands still.
You take the other glove, then put them on your own hands and perform a full body cavity search on him.
You move your hands slowly up and down his legs, over his stomach, around his arms and chest, and back.
You look into his eyes steadily as you search him.
you strip off his clothes and check his throat, nose, crevices, and finally... his ears.
You can't find anything.
"I'm sorry," you say.
"You're clean," you say.
"Do... Do you speak?" he asks.
> You say "So, as I suspected, you can only mimic the basic forms of human speech."
"So, as I suspected, you can only mimic the basic forms of human speech."
He looks at you blankly.
> You look back at him blankly.
He begins to walk towards you, arms extended.
You follow as he drags his feet, heading towards the door.
You grab his wrist, stopping him in his tracks.
"Why?"
> You say "Seriously, why?"
He looks at you blankly.
"Why what?" he asks.
You look away, exasperated with this inane conversation.
"Why would you do such a thing?" you ask.
"Why?" he stares at you blankly, "Well, I'll tell you.. I don't like vampires."
You think for a moment.
"You're a vampire."
"Oh, good catch,negative vibes!"
He looks at you blankly.
> You say "I'm literally not a vampire. I'm fully human, I came back to life, I was never undead."
"I'm literally not a vampire. I'm fully human, I came back to life, I was never undead."
"Ah," he says,
> You take his gloves off your hands and throw them in the bio-hazard waste bin.
The gloves are damp, and you hate sweating.
You take them off, and throw them in the bin.
You kneel down beside it, and close the lid, before walking over to the till.
> You say "Do you like the way I walk?"
"Do you like the way I walk?"
"What?" he asks.
"Do you like the way I walk?" you ask, mimicking his inflection.
"No."
> You say "Why not?"
"No."
You stare at him.
"Do you like the way I walk?" you ask again, "It's a serious question."
"No," he says.
"Why not?"
> You twerk on the clerk.
"Why not?" you ask, twerking.
You take a step, then a half-step, half-twerking step forward. The clerk stares blankly at you.
"Why not?"
> You say "Do you like the way I twerk?"
"Do you like the way I twerk?"
"What?" he asks.
"Do you like the way I twerk?" you ask again, "It's a serious question."
> You say "Just tell me, you like it, don't you?"
His mouth gapes slightly, and he leans back.
"No."
"Do you want to see me twerk?" you ask.
"What?"
You tut loudly.
> You twerk right in his face.
The clerk stares at you, looking completely terrified. He takes a step back.
"I want to see you twerk," you say, twerking.
"What?" he asks.
> You say "Twerk, white boy, or I'll gut you like a halibut!"
"Twerk, white boy, or I'll gut you like a halibut!" you threaten.
He stares at you with fear and awe in his eyes.
"Fine!" he says.
He starts to fidget and gyrate.
You find the rhythm of his movements and mirror them.
He laughs. You smile, and he begins to clap.
You smile, and begin to clap as well.
> You say "This is the dance our grand-kids will be doing."
"This is the dance our grand-kids will be doing."
"No, this is the dance."
He starts to caper like a marionette. You caper along with him.
His movements become faster and more frantic, as yours are.
The clerk drops to his knees.
"The dance of the dead!" he cries,
> You say "Totally!"
The clerk starts to dance.
You laugh.
"This is fucking beautiful," you say, watching the Clerk.
The clerk dances without music, his movements full of grace.
> You say "Well the shark has razor sharp teeth, and he shows them dirty white!
Just a knife has, old MacBeef, babe, and he keeps it at a site."
The clerk stares at you blankly.
"What?" he asks.
"Nothing," you say.
You frown, and look around the office.
> You say "When the shark bites, and his teeth tear, scarlet billows start to spread."
A knife has been mentioned. You seem to be considering what is happening, a thought confirmed by your silence.
"You okay, foo?" the clerk asks.
> You say "Fancy sheets has, old MacBeef, dear, so he hides out, every little trace of red."
The clerk stares at you blankly, then bursts into laughter.
"What?" you ask.
"Nothing," he says.
> You say "You owe me thrupence for my opera."
"You owe me thrupence for my opera."
"Oh, you can go fuck yourself," he says.
He throws a crumpled note on the counter.
> You say "This is a whole quid, mate, I can't break this."
"This is a whole quid, mate, I can't break this."
"I don't want your money. I want my dog," you say.
> You say "You don't have a dollar, I don't have a wiener!"
"You don't have a dollar, I don't have a wiener!"
He pulls a pistol from his belt, aiming it at you.
"Give me your wallet."
"Looking for these?" you say, holding his bullets in the palm of your hand, "I took them when I searched you." you declare.
The man's eyes widen.
"You fucking prick!" he roars, grabbing you by the throat and tossing you against the wall.
"I'm going to kill you, you little faggot!"
> You say "How am I a faggot if I'm a woman?"
As you stand, the man turns and aims his pistol at you.
His pistol which is still empty.
You draw your own pistol, and fire. The bullet hits him in the forehead, killing him instantly. You sigh, holstering your weapon.
"Thanks," the clerk says.
> You say "For what... guess I'll never know?"
"For what... guess I'll never know?"
"Thanks for the mental exercise," he says.
You look at the man and shrug.
"Sure," he says,
> You say "Honestly I think you needed it like you needed a hole in the head."
"Honestly I think you needed it like you needed a hole in the head."
"Thanks," you say.
"No problem," he says,
You walk down the street, thinking.
Thinking about everything you've been through in the past year.
You'll be glad when this is over.
You've gotten to know a few people in this world. Made some friends you might've not have made if you had stayed in the Kingdom of Man.
Taken advantage of some singularly gratifying scenarios.
But ultimately, it's all been pretty... pointless.
You could just keep your knowledge of this place to yourself. Nobody would probably find it anyway.
Nobody would probably ever find it.
That would likely be for the best, if you were the only one who knew the things you've done here. You'd just like to think that you could keep this little secret place in your mind, just for yourself.
As you're lost in these thoughts Mickey Mouse and several of his friends arrive tromping proudly over the horizon.
"Why hello there!" Minnie Mouse says cheerfully, "Anywhere good?"
"Oh it was good," you say with a smile, "Where have you been?"
"Oh, exploring!"
> You say "Did you find out whether the moons are made of cheese?"
"Did you find out whether the moons are made of cheese?"
"What? No! We were trying to see if you'd found out whether the moons are made of cheese," you say.
> You say "What if they're actually giant eggs, and they hatch one day."
"What if they're actually giant eggs, and they hatch one day."
"Good luck explaining that one to the Ewoks."
Wicket looks at you, horrified by the prospect you've just introduced.
"Shit," Wicket says, turning and running off.
> You say "Sheeesh! I didn't know anyone actually from a moon would be here when I said that."
"Sheeesh! I didn't know anyone actually from a moon would be here when I said that."
"Ah, what's done is done, now we just have to deal with the aftermath."
> You say "When did you make friends with the Ewoks, Mickey?"
"When did you make friends with the Ewoks, Mickey?"
> You say "It's a serious question."
"It's a serious question."
"Oh, that's simple," he says,
"I own THE STAR WARS!" Mickey Mouse declares, laughing maniacally.
"I thought you said you didn't watch that film," you say.
"I didn't!" he says, "But I did! I stole it!"
"You stole a movie?"
"I stole an entire franchise!" Mickey proudly corrects.
"Wait," you say, "Every movie they've made?"
"All accompanying content and merchandising rights too." Mickey adds with a smirk.
"I've never heard of such a thing."
"Of course you haven't," he says, "That's why it's brilliant."
> You say "So, if we wanted a star ship right now?"
"So, if we wanted a star ship right now?"
"We could have one."
"In time."
> You say "Could we have Darth Vader's Star Destroyer?"
"Could we have Darth Vader's Star Destroyer?"
"No."
"Damn, I was really hoping."
"You take what you can get I guess."
"Exactly."
> You say "What about The Millennium Falcon?"
"What about The Millennium Falcon?"
"That wasn't free, you know."
"Oh right. My bad."
"So, how much did all this cost?" you ask.
"How should I know?" Mickey muses "I used my infinite money."
"Ah, of course," you say.
"And when do you want this done?"
"Soon. As in, before you do anything else."
"The sooner the better."
A Corellian Corvette starship touches down nearby.
"Here she is," the Mouse says, "My new lover, Captain Jon Smith."
Captain Jon Smith is a tall, gaunt looking individual.
> You say "Permission to board, Captain Smith, sir."
"Permission granted," he says, stepping aside.
You quickly head up the boarding tube to the ship, which is docked with the smaller ships.
"Welcome aboard," Smith says.
> You say "Can the cartoon animal people join us?"
"Can the cartoon animal people join us?"
"Sure, why not."
And so you take a group of "species unknown" with you. They seem to be happy enough, certainly more than you were.
> You say "Incidentally, what is this vessel's destination?"
"Incidentally, what is this vessel's destination?"
"Oh, we're not going there," Smith says,
> You say "Then, where are we going?"
"Then, where are we going?"
> You say "How about the capitol?"
"How about the capitol?"
"The capitol?"
"Yes, I think the captain mentioned he had business with the king. Although," Smith says, looking at you,
> You say "Yes?"
"Yes, er... can I ask who you are?"
"I'm Crazy foo."
"What?" he asks cautiously.
"Crazy foo."
"Are you serious?" Smith asks,
> You say "Crazy Foo is my given name, ask me again and I'll tell you the same!"
"Crazy Foo is my given name, ask me again and I'll tell you the same!"
> You say "All the crazy and the cool, know the tale of Crazy Foo."
"All the crazy and the cool, know the tale of Crazy Foo."
"Don't tell me you've joined the Disney Kids."
> You say "Not before you did."
"Not before you did."
"I've gotta say," Smith says, "I'm a little disappointed in you."
"Oh?" you ask, raising an eyebrow.
> You say "You've been a Disney Kid since 1607."
"You've been a Disney Kid since 1607."
"I've been a Disney kid since birth," you say.
"Oh, I didn't know your kind got born."
> You say "it does when you're born in a movie theater"
"it does when you're born in a movie theater"
"Yeah, I guess it does."
"So, how far is it to the capitol?" you ask.
"Not far at lightspeed." Smith says.
"Damn, I should've worked on that."
"Alright, let's get going."
You sit in the passenger seat of the ship as it soars through the emptiness of space.
> You look at the ship's console.
You look at the ship's console.
The switch on the side of the dashboard can be manouvered to three different positions. You decide to send a small amount of power to thrusters A and B. The ship jumps forward slightly as Power Plant engages into burners.
Captain Jon Smith turns to you.
"Hey, are we uniting or something?" Jon asks.
"Yeah, do you want to sit next to me?"
"Maybe later."
> You say "we can get real close later, if you know my reputation."
"We can get real close later, if you know my reputation."
Jon raises his eyebrow and looks ahead as the ship soars through the emptiness of space.
> You say "You're a human man, I'm a human woman, just think about the possibilities."
"You're a human man, I'm a human woman, just think about the possibilities."
"Hah, this and a flashlight with fresh batteries."
You quickly look away, blushing.
"What exactly could we use the flashlight for?" you ask, biting your lip nervously.
"If I turn it on, can you shine it on my face for me? I always break my makeup when I laugh this much."
"Sure... but what, um, why do you laugh so much?"
> You say "And, if you don't mind my asking, where are Pocahontas, Snow White, and the rest of the Princesses?"
"And, if you don't mind my asking, where are Pocahontas, Snow White, and the rest of the Princesses?"
"Why, they're asleep," Captain Jon Smith says.
> You say "All of them?"
"All of them?"
"All of the princesses?"
Jon pauses, searching a memory.
"I think... Priscilla, Annah, and Vampiria are asleep."
> You say "What about Aurora, I would have thought she got enough sleep already?"
"What about Aurora, I would have thought she got enough sleep already?"
"Aurora's awake."
> You say "What about Elsa, though, we could really benefit from her powers on our side."
"What about Elsa, though? We really could benefit from her powers on our side."
"Elsa.... eh.... isn't...." Jon stutters.
"Don't tell me....."
"She left."
> You say "Well that's unfortunate, instruments indicate we're approaching The Capitol."
"Well that's unfortunate, instruments indicate we're approaching The Capitol."
"It's nothing bad. I mean, it is something. I just don't want to talk about it."
"It's nothing bad. I mean, it is something. I just don't want to talk about it."
You look at Jon, who looks out the window and continues:
"Aurora's a good ruler, she just wants to have fun, rather than staying up all night plotting and planning."
"Well that's unfortunate, instruments indicate we're approaching The Capitol."
The Capitol looms heavily ahead, a metropolis of incomparable size.
"So... we have an agreement," Captain Jon says.
"Yes," you say, "we have."
Jon sighs and brings the ship in, finishing with a smooth landing in the landing bay.
As everyone disembarks you ask, "does anyone remember why we came here?"
No one answers. You shrug and follow the captain out of the landing bay, toward the door to the hall.
You enter the hall, which is filled with people. A lot of people.
> You say "How many of these people do you think I could get to cum on my face, Mickey?"
You walk into the hall and take in the scene. You are met by an endless horde of wretched, rotting corpses.
> You say "Eeeew, This is not what I'm into."
You walk up to and then around the corpses.
A man stands on a balcony, looking down at the mass of corpses.
> You ask the man who he is.
You walk up to the man on the balcony.
"What's going on?" you ask.
The man turns around, and you see his face.
"Plllleeeaaasssse."
> You try to remember if you've seen him before.
...
> You say "Why is everybody here corpses?"
"Because a woman came to rule them, and instead they got fucked by a bloke" Captain Jon says.
You grit your teeth and stop asking questions.
"We have an excess of slaves to fill this place, and since the Empire collapsed, we've been using these corpses as a way to keep order."
"Ah, a stable population. Good to know."
Jon nods, and you begin to ask questions about the mission, but he stops you.
> You follow, like a submissive woman.
"We'll discuss the mission over dinner."
You follow obediently, and Jon leads you through the halls. Eventually, you reach a set of stairs.
> You count the steps as you walk up.
You walk up the stairwell, and at the top you find yourself entering a large dining hall. You see several long tables, each with ten seats. It's probably for one person, but now it can seat thirty.
> You take a seat at the table.
You grab a seat at the table, and sit down.
"Ah, perfect."
Jon sits down, and immediately orders a bottle of wine from a passing waiter.
"I hope this isn't a sign of things to come." You think.
The waiter places the bottle of wine on the table, and leaves.
Wine usually makes you horny. If you could bottle the power that the alcohol in this wine holds and just take a long swilling from the bottle. Best way to get yourself off.
But, you know you shouldn't do it.
But before you realize it you've set up your portable alembic.
"Do you mind if I ask what that is?"
"It's a micro distillery." you say casually as you pour the wine into the boiler.
You flick the switch, and the burner comes to life. A hiss of steam begins emanating from the boiler as you watch it.
That fine red kroovy spirals through the heat exchanger and drips into a flask, halved in volume, but doubled in potency.
As the wine is boiled away you begin adding your precious dry ice.
You watch as the temperature of the flask begins to rise, quickly melting all the ice in the flask.
The carbonation adds that extra zing.
You get a large pipette with a rubber stopper and begin drawing the liquid directly into it. The vapor condenses in the pipette, which you then transfer into a larger syringe.
> You say "It's like Awesome, you can inject into your veins!"
You continue to work, and soon have a syringe of the purest, cleanest death you could ever want.
"Jon, I need to show you something."
> You put away the syringe for later and follow Jon.
You follow Jon out of the hall and down a long, spiraling staircase.
At the bottom of the stairs you find yourself in a large operating room.
> You say "What's this all about?"
"I have an idea for how we can beat the Vampires," Jon says.
"Let's hear it," you reply.
Jon stops, and grips his hands.
"They're going to march an army of undead giants."
You cringe. Gigalough's crew might work, but they're the only ones you've got.
"How do you know this?"
"Because I've been monitoring the Necromancer's army's movements using their camp in the woods as a marker."
You take out your dagger, and carve the symbol for "LONG PLAN" into your palm.
> You say "So, what's next, Phoebus?"
"The undead giants will smash through the walls, crush our armies and take the city. We need to deploy firebomb drones into their camp before they get them."
"That's... pretty bold. I love it."
> You say "Will fire wipe them out completely?"
"I've no idea, but it's worth a shot."
"Excellent."
Jon heads over to a table. He lays out several syringes filled with a clear fluid.
> You say "What are those for?"
"These are the Sleeping Death.
> You and what does that substance do?
A vial of blood is injected into your neck, and you fall into a deep sleep.
Your dreams are dark, horrifying and graphic.
> You say "Who are we supposed to use them on?"
A dark, saturnine entity appears, perched on the air.
"We use them on the Vampires."
The dream-being vanishes.
"Wait, what?"
Jon pulls out a large tome, the pages of which are covered with shit-eating grin.
> You say "Alakazam!"
Jon chuckles, almost pityingly.
"No, silly. It's thought-speak. I asked what your favorite memory of the old Encina was."
"Oh. Fighting the Vampires, of course."
> You say "Bumblebee Tuna?"
"No, it's wasabi."
"Oh."
"I'll explain more later."
Jon hands you a small wooden figurine of a riding toy pasted to the top of a short stick.
> You say "Jon, are you saying you want me to ride your stick?"
Jon smiles proudly.
"Yes. I want you to ride my stick."
"Alright then. But what's this for?"
"This is a lie."
> You say "Jon, take me to your quarters and put your big throbbing member inside me."
Jon chuckles, and pulls out a large bayonet-looking object from his clothing.
> You say "I don't think that's what I was talking about."
Jon smirks.
"No, I suppose you wouldn't. I was being serious."
"You're a strange one, Jon Snow."
Jon's smirk becomes a frown.
> You say "And I was being serious about sex."
Jon drops the knife, and grins.
You unbutton his jacket and press your breasts against his chest.
Jon groans, and pushes you backward so that he can kneel on the floor and lift you onto his stick.
He stands and holds you upright as you grip the stick with both hands.
> You say "It's longer than I expected."
Jon grins.
"Oh, I'm sure it's plenty long enough for any girl."
You grip the end of the stick more tightly.
As it slides inside your pussy it's thicker than you expected too.
You groan as you begin to ride Jon's cock.
The scene changes.
You're in a small arena, with a large, demonic-looking creature staring at you.
> You say "How dare you interrupt my sex scene with this?"
The creature snarls, and lunges at you.
You grip the top of the stick, and the creature is impaled on it.
> You say "Now where in the holy hell am I?"
You're in a massive cave. A large fire burns near you, providing both light and heat.
You look around, and realize you're the only one in the area.
> You say "Well that's just typical..."
A howl wakes you from your sleep. You stand and look out the window. The moonlight is bright, but a few torches light the room.
Jon Snow stands in front of you, holding your dagger.
> You say "What now?"
Jon Snow points the dagger at you.
"It seems that you're awake. Shall I kill you now?"
You look at the blade for a second, then look back at Jon.
> You say "If you're really asking, I'd prefer if you didn't."
Jon nods.
"Wise."
He raises the dagger.
You take your phone out and send a text.
Hey. I'm in an emergency situation. Can you pop over to my place?
There's a second where you expect him to reply, but he doesn't.
You wonder whether you should make some sort of move.
Jon approaches you with the dagger still raised.
You in desperation you activate the conjuration circle you drew in this room during the sex and summon Walt Disney.
"What the fuck are you doing?" Jon snarls, as the vampiric lord stumbles in.
Walt glances at him, before looking at you.
> You say "Walt, this fucker is going psycho with a knife, while I'm naked, what should I do?"
Walt frowns, before grinning.
"Kill him."
You nod.
You move quickly, activating your Northern Lights and stabbing Jon through the face at a bright light.
> You say "That was intense. Why would he do that?"
Walt nods.
"The Master of the West recently took control of the council. The vampires have become much weaker as a whole, and desired to strengthen themselves by infecting more of their brethren."
You nod.
> You say "Is Photo-Negative Mickey still on our side?"
Walt nods.
"Yes. He's been helping the resistance in his own little way."
"Okay. Well, that's good to hear. But we're still fucked."
"We'll figure it out. So how do we stop the plague?"
> You say "Well curing it will only matter if we can stop the distribution network. Do we have anyone who know how to whip up an anti-serum?"
Walt nods.
"We have a candidate. They're currently curing a few resistance members in a hidden location."
"Perfect, I'll start trying to locate it soon."
> You say "Who is this alchemist or science wiz?"
Walt smiles.
"Why it's your old friend, the witch Hazel." beams the animation legend. "She's working with Gizmo Duck's cell."
"Hazel's helping the mutants?"
Walt nods.
"Unfortunately, yes. But as I said, at least she's helping."
John finishes your sentence for you.
Mickey Mouse comes in with his usual anthromorph entourage, "Let's head back to the ship. The hospitality here has soured."
You nod, and take a few deep breaths. After a few seconds, you arrive in the parking lot of the Best Western.
"Stay close to the people with guns." You say.
John nods.
"Hyuck-Hyuck!" Goofy laughs, "This has turned out to be a wild ride, but we support you, Crazy Foo."
You and the others follow as you make your way to your ship.
"So, what's our plan of attack?" asks Goofy.
> You say "First we pick up Hazel to help counteract the plague, then we find out who's spreading the plague and shoot the messengers."
Walt nods.
"Perfect. We pick up Hazel, then we shoot the messengers."
Goofy puts his hands in his coat pockets,
"Gorsh!" declares the senior Goof.
"What, no 'Hook, line and sinker'?" asked Mickey impatiently.
Goofy frowns at him.
"I'm trying to think!"
"Fine."
"I likes shootin' messengers." Pete says with an unctuous grin.
"Let's go." Says Goofy.
Everyone loads into the classic Corellian hammership.
"I think I remember this ship." Says Goofy.
"Sure you do." You smirk.
"What?"
"You piloted it into a tree twice."
"Aww, shucks!"
You land the ship in the clearing you use for landing and disembark. You see Hazel walking towards you from the station, a few mutant workers running after her.
> You say "Those mutants sure look stirred up..."
"Yeah." She says, nodding to you.
> You say "What's happening around here?"
Hazel frowns,
"Been an okay day today. Mostly normal humans wandering around, though the odd infected got processed."
You nod.
"Good. So, what can you tell me about the plague?"
She looks down at her calloused hands, as if reading her own palmistry. You see her begin to flex and unflex her hands.
"I've found a cure, by mixing cough syrup and horse dewormer, but it's expensive to make, and only works 70 percent of the time." Hazel says, wringing her hands together.
"Infected people have a red tinge to their skin, like they've gone very pale but feel feverish. Their movements are extremely slow and they feel like they're half asleep."
"What do you use it for?" You ask, unsure if you want to risk the side effects.
"Curing infected people." She says simply.
"How long do the symptoms last?"
"The red skin lasts about a day, the slowness lasts about two. It's really hard to tell since they go into a coma after the third day."
> You say "Does anyone know who's been spreading the infections?"
"The Syndicate."
You nod.
"Do you know who or what the Syndicate is?"
"Sure. A big organization of humans and mutants that run the entire Eastern Seaboard."
> You say "Is there one particular figure we could hit to stop the distribution?"
"Sure.
> You say "Whom?"
"I don't know. They're really well protected, you'd need a team of ten to even get close to finding out!"
You sigh, unsurprised. The headquarters is probably heavily guarded.
> You say "Can you remind me what the plague does?"
"It weakens its victims, so that they're easy prey for the vampires."
You nod.
"So can you take out the guards?"
"Probably."
Felix and Oswald arrive, each with their own accompanying menagerie of anthromorphs, Felix's followers more of the barn-yard variety, while Oswald's are more of the exotic zoo persuasion. Both follow their respective leaders, but eye the mutants in the group with interest.
"Well, well, well. What do we have here?" asks Cain, strolling into the lot.
> You say "There is a magical operation that is of maximum importance!"
Cain smiles and flicks his wrists, and the mutants howl in pain.
"Magical operations and my men are of equal importance to me." He says, then pauses and looks to Hazel.
> You say "What's your angle Cain?"
"I'm loyal to the humans and the Syndicate, but if you're willing to betray both, then I'm willing to listen."
"You truly are an interesting fellow. I'm not sure I trust your motives."
> You say "I believe in the overall superiority of humankind. These cartoon animal people have sworn allegiance to me, and if the plague is really meant to make people easier prey for vampires, that counts as anti-human activity, and I'm against any anti-human activity."
He smiles, and licks his lips,
"You might be a traitor, but you're having a debate without actually calling me a traitor. Fascinating. You certainly are an interesting little vampire."
> You say "I'll say this again, I am human, not a vampire! Why do people think I'm a vampire?"
"I'm having a hard time believing that myself. I think it's the hair. It looks like blood."
> You say "My hair is orange though, what has orange blood?"
He rubs his bearded chin,
> You say "Tell me straight, Cain, are you pro-human or anti-human?"
"Straight? I like girls in the missionary position, but only if they're sisters."
"Please, I'm asking for real!"
Sighing, he seems to put on his serious face,
> You say "If the plague is making humans easier prey for vampires, I aim to stop the plague."
"You might not be the hero everyone thinks you are."
"I'm an upstanding woman."
Cain swears, and looks away for a moment.
> You say "What would make me less of a hero?"
"The Syndicate could be after you. They're a corrupt organization, and they're interested in you for..." he pauses, seeming to count on his fingers. "For fuck's sake, kid, you're up to something, you're a spy and we all need to be on our guard.
> You say "Every action I take is for the good of humankind!"
He smiles,
"So be it. Now, let's all head back to the town."
You nod, and head towards the town.
Three armies of cartoon animal people march with you. You're in the middle of a shitstorm and you can't be sure if you'll even make it home.
Then, you see a horde of hateful, horned demons burst through the trees and charge towards you.
Felix converts his bag of tricks into a massive sword, and slices a demon in half vertically.
Oswald conjures a fireball, which incinerates two demons at once.
Cain throws his axe at another, and it cleaves through the demon's head.
> You say "Hadoken!"
A ball of flames bursts from your finger tips, and engulfs a group of demons.
You look at the remaining demons, who seem confused by what just happened to their companions.
> You say "V'kosh n'gosh!"
A bright red ray of pure heat bursts from your finger tips, incinerating a group of demons.
They fall to the ground, screaming in pain. The remaining demons seem to be in awe of you.
> You say "Whence come you and why, Demons?"
"We heard there is a hero in this forest! We've been waiting."
"For who? I'm a nobody, just a humble mercenary."
"We are as humble as anyone, but we are no nobodies. Our brother Gorn, once led the Three Brothers Syndicate, a powerful organization that ruled the organized criminal worlds.
> You say "Will you fight for us even after we've dispatched your comrades?"
"Of course, we'll fight for you until the end! But as for now, it's better if we stick together. We outnumber you, don't we?"
> You say "I don't know, there are an awful lot of anthromorphs and they're difficult to keep count of, so there could be any number of us."
"Probably more than you, but let's not dwell on such things. What I'd like to know is, will you join us?"
> You say "Crazy Foo does not fight under another commander's banner, but you are welcome to fight under mine."
"That's very generous of you, but I believe I'll take you up on your offer."
Cain nods his head, turning to you.
"You sure about this, Oswy?"
"Yes."
> You say "If the lucky rabbit is willing to work with you, it's settled, we all march together."
"Great!" Cain beams.
Your train proceeds toward the city: Yourself, Cain, The demons, the anthromorph armies of Mickey, Felix, and Oswald. Hazel also moves along with you, manufacturing the cure at a mobile workstation. No-one speaks for about half an hour, as the trains whistle and rumble you along.
Then, Hazel speaks up.
"So..." she says casually.
"Yes Hazel?" you reply.
"The last known location of the Vampire Clan's lair is... here."
This statement causes a moment's silence.
> You say "Are they still here now!?"
"No, they left a week ago."
"Ah. Well, I have the trains to catch. Good luck, Hazel."
"Thanks for the heads up, Hazel."
The train ride is brutal. You feel like you're stuck in a sauna for about two hours, and when you arrive at the city you stagger out.
Your anthromorph allies pour out of their cars in a pseudo-liquid fashion, while the huge demons pop out of the doors like massive witheheads being ejected from tight pores. You find yourself in a bustling city, filled with the roaring of cars, shrieking of sirens, and other assorted noise. Hazel walks over to you.
> You say "Is the cure ready?"
"Yeah, it should be."
"Good, let's get to work. I want to hit at least two targets with it, and have the others hold the fort while we're gone."
"Got it," Hazel nods.
You lead Hazel off into the city, and begin approaching your first target. A young man with a gun on a street corner. You approach him calmly, and he looks at you nervously.
> You take out the target.
You rush the man and punch him, knocking him down. The man grabs his gun defensively and pushes you away.
"What the fuck?" he says angrily.
"I'm the one called Crazy Foo, and this is a demonstration of killing you!" You bellow, as you whip out your laser pistol an shooting him square between the eyes, from the hip.
You fire another shot, blowing out the man's other eye, and the man falls backwards unconscious.
"Fuck, that was harder than it looked," you laugh.
"Come on, we've still got targets to hit," you say.
You and Hazel storm out of the city, and begin approaching the second target.
> You say "Radakabap!"
The target stands roughly 53 feet away surrounded by bodyguards, as you speak your incantation and slam the back of your right hand down against your left palm an explosive wave of sonic force originates from the target's head, expanning to 10 feet and bursting the eardrums of the target and all six of his bodyguards.
Your wave of force knocks them all off their feet, leaving a battered and bloodied mess at your feet.
The round trip is over 5 miles, and the energy release is enough to destroy a small town.
It gives you a strange kind of comfort contemplating this peculiar magical talent you poses in terms of numeric figures and statistics.
Your walk is over, and you make your way back to base, where the others are waiting for you with the cure.
You take Hazel aside, and she begins to tell you what will happen next.
"Basically, we're going to distribute the cure, and then bring down the two remaining targets with our combined might. You'll be in charge of this operation. You should be able to handle it," she says.
"Sure," you nod.
"Right, let's get to work. Everyone back to work.
> You bring up the map of the syndicate compound.
The map of the compound is a huge map, showing the entire complex of buildings that make up the headquarters of the Syndicate.
> You say "So, our targets should be here, and... here!"
Hazel points out two buildings, one marked "Goblin Supplies" and the other "Vampy Supplies." The plan is simple.
> You say "Mickey and his army will attack openly at the front gate. Cartoon animal people are practically invincible and well known to hate gangsters, so this will be a good distraction, then Oswald's crew will come in from the west and Felix's from the east. The demons will be dropping in from above, as is their usual wont. Cain, I want you and the mutants to come in through the sewers, that rout should be unguarded, and completely unexpected."
Cain nods.
"Sounds good. What about us?" David asks.
> You say "Now the north side of the compound is bordered by the lake, since they have their own boats this could be a convenient egress, unfortunately for them, a friend of ours got ahold of some army surplus duck-boats, so as Mickey and the toons have their forces focused up front, we are gonna pull a D-day on their private harbor."
"Let's do it then!" Hazel eagerly agrees.
You brief the others once more, and go over your plans for the final time, then set your plans in motion.
You all gather outside the Syndicate Headquarters, and march towards the Goblin supplied building, an easy task. There are only five of you, but thanks to your powers you are easily able to pass for ten.
David fires his blunderbuss, the insane spread-radio somehow manes to lodge a fork in the chest of each of the 15 gangster-soldiers sent to reclaim the harbor. The rest of you easily take care of the 6 left alive to defend the machine-gun nest at the north gate.
Far away you ca can see the beams of Goofy and Max's proton packs converge on the south gate, resulting in an ear shattering kaboom! Now both gates have fallen to your forces.
But the real fun is just comming to begin.
You burst into the building, a stupid grin plastered on your face.
> You say "It's killing time!"
You laugh as a vampire attempts to charge you with its longsword, but you blast it away with a burst of lightning, the creature's body burning as it hits the ground.
> You find the target.
You run up to the next, smashing the flat of your blade into his head, knocking him backwards. You stab him through the heart, and he falls to the ground with a thud.
Fighting your way through more ineffectual vampire goons you make your way back to a serine zen themed office where an old Oriental man sits meditating.
You burst into the room, dozens of vampire goons in tow, and put your foot on his chest.
"David! We have to get out of here! Now!"
The old man, your target, is already dead. His body has been converted into an explosive device, which you have just activated. The room implodes, and you and David make your escape through a tiny ventilation shaft. The last thing you hear is David laughing.
You burst out of the shaft, on to the surface. You find that your friends have easily dealt with the rest of the infected on the surface, and are busily looting the corpses.
"Look! A Great Masher!" Louie proclaims, displaying a large shiny marble he's found to his brother Huey.
"Yeah, but there's another one!"
"Nah, that one's a dud. Throw it away, it's fucking rotten."
Huey tosses the cracked marble, and it busts pouring out a thick dark green liquid that quickly renders into a noxious pastel green gas.
"Gross! That thing's full of worms and shit!"
"Alright, alright, we got more fun things than rotten marbles!"
"Check it out!" Dewey proclaims, "I found a real Gun, none of that ToonTown anthropomorphic crap! It's a real gun Louie!"
"Duly noted."
Suddenly, a loud roaring noise fills the air.
"Duck!" David shouts, as a large object is hurled right over the heads of the scavengers, into the trees beyond.
It hits with a huge explosion, which rips through the trees, and sending trees and debris flying into the air. Several of your number are struck by flying bits of wood, and you quickly duck down behind the wheel of a nearby van.
After a few seconds, the sound of trees being struck by objects and torn asunder dies down, and you stand up.
Afflicted emerge from their cover, and begin charging towards you.
> You say "What even!?"
You look at David and laugh. "What even!?" You cry in unison with David, before the realisation finally hits.
You've just completed the first laugh.
"Perfect!" You cry, "We need to do this more often!"
"Yeah! So what's next?" David asks.
"Well, I dunno. What do you want to do?"
You both think for a second. "I don't know... What was the last thing we did?"
"Looted a village, I think."
"Yeah, let's do that."
"Cool, I'll get the guys."
You walk over to where David and the rest are standing, out in the open, on the road. There's a mixed reaction.
"What the fuck, David?" Carl says, "We come to you with our problems, and you send out the Kids?"
"The Kids?" You ask, confused.
"Yeah, you and David."
There's a murmur of agreement from the rest.
"He didn't tell you?" David asks, "It's because I wouldn't leave him alone. I kept pestering him to come with me, and he got pissed and exiled me."
A shiver goes up your spine.
> You say "I am not sure I'm equipped to deal with this sort of survivor group drama. I'm on a quest to rid the land of undead, especially undead giants, which I haven't seen a single one of yet, and am beginning to doubt exist."
David nods, "Fair enough. You sure you don't want to come?"
"Nah, I think I'd better stick to my plan. I'm not equipped to handle other issues that may crop up."
> You say "I'm real good at fighting undead, not so good at eating and sleeping, since I need to eat vampires, and sleep in gravity boots."
David nods, "Makes sense. I can't argue with your logic."
You grab the radio. " Command, this is Alpha Team, we're ready for orders, over ."
Static crackles in your ear, "This is Command, proceed with caution, over ."
" Roger that, we'll search the village for any survivors, over ."
There's a pause of a couple of seconds, "Does the plague really make you weak? Over ."
You sigh, "Yes, it makes us quite weak. If you see a human, chase them down and stop them from infecting other humans. We're all out of pro-longed life, over."
You hear a chuckle through the radio, "Alright then, have fun with that. I'll see you later."
You snort, " bet you will, over."
The team sets off down the road.
"Unless I see you first!" you mumble with a wry smirk.
You carry on, down the road.
Chapter 2: Vampire
Night falls. The skies are dark, the air is cold, and you can't stop shivering. You need to find shelter, fast.
"David?" you say, "what's the plan?"
"Going to need fire to Thaw out." David says looking up. "Got any?"
You look up.
> You say "Normally I have the most fire, but I'm not sure if it will work with these clear skies."
David nods, "Probably for the best. They'll be able to see your lighter from miles away. We use fire a lot to signal to each other."
> You say "I don't cary a lighter, it encourages smoking, I once made fire by rubbing two sticks together, it's true, you really can."
David nods, "I'm sure it can. We need something that lights up quick, tinder, rags, something."
You pat yourself down, you un fastened your belt to keep your gun in place, you try to rummage through your clothing, but give up and shrug.
"I've... I've" you stammer,
> You say "There's not a single rag on me."
David frowns, "Really?"
You shake your head, "Not a single rag. I have to have them, they're so useful!"
"Hmm," David grins,
> You say "What are you thinking in that head of yours, you scruffy Nerf-herder?"
David nods, "Alright. I'll be right back. Stay right here."
David lopes off into the darkness, leaving you to sit and wait. The cold, the darkness, the... Something else in the air, causes you to feel unnaturally anxious. You can't explain it, but you feel as though something bad is going to happen.
He returns not long after, holding a black bag about the size of him. He sits next to you and opens the bag, taking out a grey, furry object.
"Cat?" You ask.
"Fox." David replies.
He holds up a small, wide-mouthed bottle, filled with red liquid.
"What's that?"
"Blood."
You swallow hard, "From a... Vampire?"
David nods, "Indeed. I needs must have blood to stay alive, but I'm too lazy to go out and get it, so I tamed one down in the local bedrock layer. The little bugger actually fairly easy, it's the fucking titans up here that are hard to come about."
"Oh. How long have you had it?"
"A few weeks.
> You say "What do you need it for?"
David pauses, "I have no real idea. I just got curious, is all. Now then, shall we?"
> You say "I shall if you shall."
David flips open a small metal box, pressing down on some kind of button, he leans in and croons softly. The song is low, almost quiet, but carries easily in the night, with the clear melody. You find yourself leaning in to listen, as the song ends, you hear a bark.
"Wikawika." The fox says, shoving its snout against your legs.
You shake your head, laughing.
"I don't think so, Spurdo."
The fox looks up, its eyes shining bright, "Sprogs might attack you, but I won't. We've been friends for too long."
You laugh again,
> You say "Moments like this are why this world is here."
David chuckles, gently petting Spurdo on the head, "You sure know how to break a man's heart, you little bastard."
The fox wlips his head around to sniff at your legs some more, you scratch behind his ears. His tongue hangs out, and you place one foot on it, giving him a chance to lick your foot. David laughs at you, and looks down.
"I brought us here," David sighs, "because I'm an idiot. Luckily, I found a way to dismiss the barrier. It took me a few days of testing, because I kept breaking the machine."
"Well, what's the bad news?"
"You're not going home."
You grab the Nerf-as-a-sword out of surprise, breaking three parts of your body to do so. You had enough of being stuck here, you didn't want to stay here any longer than you had too.
"I don't care. I'm leaving now."
You begin to pace back and forth, back and forth, in front of a metal door. It's large, with an equally large 'Do Not Enter' sign on the front. You stop, leaning your head against the door.
> You chop the door open with the Nerf-as-a-sword.
You slam the tip of the sword into the door, denting the metal. You pull it back, and slam it forward again, and again, and again. The sword is heavy, and every swing hurts your arms.
> You can't stop choppin'.
The door is dented, and a large chunk of metal has been sheared off the hilt. You drop the sword, grabbing at your arms to try and stop the feeling of something cold creeping up them.
> You kick the door open with your indestructible boot.
You step to the side, away from the metal door, and leap into the air. You twist around in the air, sending a front flip at the door. Your feet meet the door with a solid "THUD!", and you send out a flurry of punches through the air. Pressing your hands against the door, you push yourself up. The door flies open, and you leap off to the side, rolling behind a nearby rock.
Your heart is beating fast, your mouth is dry. You wait for the vampires to appear, but nothing happens. David materializes from behind the barrier, smiling at you. He tosses your sword to you, standing defiantly in front of the door.
"You'll have to do," He sighs, "Thanks to your friends, my barrier stays up. Here."
David tosses you a wooden stake, and you catch it. You hold it tightly in your hands, your mind flashing back to when the Vampire had bitten you.
"Remember this?"
You shake your head, "No."
"You should."
> You say "Records will show definitively that I have no memory of being bitten by any vampire, prior to the image that just appeared in my imagination."
David shakes his head, "No, no, no."
"Well then, how do you explain it?"
David shrugs, "Magic, dreams, probability, reality... I don't know. I just know it exists."
"What could've caused this?"
David laughs, bitterly, "Anything, I suppose. War? Plague? Who knows? Certainly not me. I'm just a lowly sorcerer who ended up on the wrong side of the childbirth war."
You nod,
> You say "Though, what side would you say was the wrong side, cause it might matter."
David raises an eyebrow, "I'm not sure I follow."
"Well, you just said something about a childbirth war. If you were on the wrong side, wouldn't you want to end human kind?"
David laughs, shaking his head, "Unthinkable! I was merely speaking in metaphor! Metaphor!"
"Erm, yes. Right."
> You say "I try to avoid hyperbole when it's possible."
David nods, "Of course. Avoid hyperbole."
You rub your hands through your hair, sighing,
> You say "This is some thicc air!"
David stares at you, "What?"
"I was just thinking about how nice the air feels here. I guess it's some sort of magic."
David nods, then looks at his wristwatch, "I have to go. Another Vampire just landed, and he's due some fun."
You look at David, "You're not a vampire!"
David laughs, then snarls. The sound frightens you, as you take a step back. He nods, "Yes, I am."
"No, you're not!"
David walks towards you, his eyes full of an emotion you're not familiar with. His eyes make him seem... Hungry.
"I need to turn you into a Vampire."
You take another step back, "What? No! I won't become a Vampire! My dad's a Vampire! You can't just Turn me into a Vampire too!"
David runs a hand through his hair, "Look, I understand your hesitation. Your dad is one of the 'good' Vampires. Drinking the blood of evil humans makes him more powerful, not less. If anything, you'd become more powerful."
> You say "I cannot possibly become more powerful than I am, Davit, and I cannot allow you to make me a vampire."
David nods, "Of course. You're right. You would not be able to handle it."
David raises his hands up defensively, then shrugs, and blows you a kiss.
> You catch the kiss with your hand, crumple it, and toss it.
David shakes his head, "No."
You drop to one knee, and bow your head. "Please, sir, I'm sorry for my insubordination. I beg you, make me a Vampire."
> You spring up and drive the wooden steak into David's heart as he gets close.
David jumps back with a start, clutching his chest. He staggers back towards you, his eyes filling with blood. You drive the wooden stake through his heart, and he collapses forward.
> You say "Suck on that, Nosferatu!"
David grabs at you, and you strike him again, this time through the skull. His body twitches violently, and then stills.
You look around, immediately being accosted by several villagers.
> You say "He was a vampire!. I slew him! It does not get more simple than that!"
A voice behind you says, "Perhaps, child, but what are you?"
You turn your head, and find yourself staring into the face of a tall, pale man.
> You say "I'm the new messiah, as far as you're concerned."
The Vampire laughs,
> You say "And it's time for revelations!"
The Vampire raises his finger, "Hang on, I'm not finished laughing at your revelation."
You grit your teeth, "Finish laughing then."
"Finish laughing while you fry!" you proclaim, as orange lightning quickly strikes the tall pale vampire twice, turning his insides to charcoal. The Vampire falls backwards, and smolders as he burns.
Mihrab snarls, "I'm not a Vampire. I'm a Ghoul."
You shrug,
> You say "What's the difference, really?"
Mihrab snarls, "The difference is clear for you to see. I am a servant of the Lord of the West, unlike those wretched Vampire!"
> You say "Well I'm Crazy Foo, and your insides were turned to charcoal no matter who you are. I mean I'm Crazy Foo, and those who annoy me tend to be struck by orange lightning."
Mihrab stares at you blankly,
"That's funny. I'm not annoyed right now."
You shrug, "Crazy..."
Mihrab interrupts, "Listen, do you know much about the Vampire?"
You ponder your immediate threat, "Err, not much. They live longer than humans, drink blood, and annoy me."
Mihrab shakes his head, "It's not all that simple. It's a long story."
You nod, "OK."
Mihrab stares into the darkness for a time, "Several centuries ago, the Vampire clans rose up in an uprising that changed the world. They saw that their kind, the once slaves of humanity, were now both persecuted and little better than animals. They saw how mankind treated the lesser creatures in Hell better than they treated their fellow man. The Vampire clans rebelled, and nearly took the world with them.
"With the fall of mankind, it would have been strange had they not prospered. They had no master to serve now, and so they served themselves. War between clans was inevitable, and as always, it was the human mutants that found themselves caught in the middle.
"Their strength, speed and abilities were far surpassed by both mutants and the other monsters. Humans are resourceful and many managed to stay alive in this new world order. They saw the Vampire clans as the main threat to their existence, as well as their own power, and set out to destroy them.
"The Vampire clans were no doubt surprised that these mere humans could harm them, and fought back with everything they had. For the first time, the Vampire found themselves on the losing end, and the clans that fled this continent have never returned.
"What was left of the clans fought a hopeless battle here, and the rest fled to Europe where they were hunted down by the Quillars and other monsters. So the Vampire clans are no more. But it wasn't just the clans that were destroyed, many of the noble families that allied with them suffered as well. Their power had been decimated. Those of noble birth had no choice but to become peasants, while the rest of them had to do battle in this harsh new world.
"Still, not all of them gave up. Some managed to maintain their standing in society. They worked around the system, dealing with the new authorities in exchange for keeps of their dignity. They live in walled communities, with their own servants and guards. They still have their privilege, and they keep themselves safe while the rest of us struggle to survive."
You nod, "I know the type. They're the type that treat real pain from the torture chambers as a mild annoyance compared to the trials and tribulations of normal life. They're cowards that live safe in the mind palace they've built for themselves, never struggling for their lives, living on the advantage of the weak."
Mihrab stares at you blankly, "You seem to know a lot about them."
You shrug, "I ran into one of their assassins while I was exploring the catacombs under my town. He informed me that they could live forever and explained the scenario of a new world order. I think it has a pretty good description of what happened here."
Mihrab nods, "I'm glad you came when you did. We were just talking about this very situation."
You raise an eyebrow, "And you let them talk you into it?"
Mihrab shakes his head, "No, but the appeal was stronger than I thought."
"They're vampires. Do you feel any pity for them?"
Mihrab's face twists into a sneer, "Some. But not enough."
You nod, "Then it's all right. We'll help you wipe them out."
"Thanks, I shall pass the message on to them. My real name is Mihrab...feel free to call me that."
You extend a hand, "Nice to meet you, Mihrab. I'm Crazy foo."
He shakes your hand, shaking his head in amusement, "I don't think I'll be able to call you that."
You shrug, "It's a name. Use it as you will."
Mihrab stretches up on his toes to kiss your cheek, "Thank you, sister. You are too kind. I best be off, I have played my role well and still more subterfuge awaits. I trust you can take care of the rest?"
You nod, "Of course."
He grins, "Good, I'll be back soon. You stay here and guard the gate! Those plague vampires can't get in, you know. They'd die of all the toxins they'd inject into themselves just getting here. They'd also be burned on contact with the holy water."
Mihrab laughs as he makes his way to the door, "Then they're just like every other vampire asshole! So long as there are still good people left, the vampires can't take over!Bye now! And thank you again, sister! One of these days I'll truly thank you properly! Until then! May God keep you, and your soul stay pure!," Mihrab shouts with a wink as he heads out the door.
> You say "All that reminds me, it's been a looong time since I've had sex, are you villagers human?"
Villagers guffaw as they start chanting, "You want some of what Mihrab's got!"
Mihrab blushes, "I sure don't!" raising his hands, he shooes them away and makes a hasty retreat.
> You say "Go on your way Mihrab, I don't do ghoul dick, tried it once, never again."
Mihrab smiles, "I can see why, it's disgusting."
You look over at the villagers, who seem to have their attention on you.
> You say "How would all of you villagers like to have a forest orgy with me?"
Villagers bare their rotten teeth in excitement, "Orgy? In the forest? You must be joking! We'd get eaten alive!"
You shake your head, "Not a chance, I'm a trained warrior with years of experience, I'd take on several of them."
Villagers groan, "Those warriors are all wet and died of plague."
"Actually, they're all still alive and well, though possibly not for long if I have anything to say about it."
"Fine, but how do we know you're telling the truth?"
"Because if I'm not, I'll be looking forward to a feast after I've killed every last one of you."
"Well it sure is convenient that you know how to Tropical Storm II."
> You say "Very."
"C'mon let's go into the mine."
You nod, shoving your hands into your pockets and quickly walk, following after the beast. It seems to know where it's going, even in the dark. It leads you through several tunnels before coming to one that you've never seen before, carved out of solid stone, obviously a man made structure.
The vampire seems to stare at you for a moment as if it's trying to read your mind, but there's no way it's doing that, it's simply being creepy as fuck.
You look away, not wanting to play this game. The vampire finally seems to get the hint and leads you inside, where you find yourself in a massive underground lair. You're standing on a stone floor large enough to hold an army afield and surrounded by higher than average ceiling than the rest of the mine, giving it a great space to fly around in.
"Behold, my home." The vampire says with a nod.
You look around and find more vampires milling about the place than you ever thought existed.
> You say "Last thing i remember I was trying to talk a bunch of stinking peasants into a forest orgy, how did I wind up here?"
The Vampire smirks, "The peasants are irrelevant, and you know it. Their suffering is nothing compared to the blood gods."
"What do you mean?"
"I'll explain it to you while I hunt."
> You say "Well I just can't imagine the blood gods are very fun candidates for an orgy..."
You nod, grinning.
"Come on then, let's go hunt."
"You sure you're ready for this?" the Vampire asks,
> You say "There's just one thing you're not calculating."
"What's that?"
"How the fuck are we going to stop them from attacking us if we try to destroy the plague?"
The Vampire stares at you for a moment, then laughs.
"You're an idiot. You want to help us?"
"Of course."
"Then you need to work out a way for me to transplant the plague into the main Vamp-Lord's lair."
"That's... really fucking difficult."
"Yes, it is, but not impossible. That's what you're here for."
> You say "If it was impossible that would be no problem, I do impossible things for breakfast, but difficult things are such a hassle."
"Ah, but this is something that's required, not something that can be simply willed into happening. If you want to help us, you're going to have to think up a way of doing this."
> You say "Most of my greatest accomplishments were simply willed into happening, remember the giant trees, and the animals and dinosaurs? That was all me, every bit of it impossible, but not at all difficult."
The Vampire seems to think about this for a moment, then nods slowly.
"Alright. So what's the plan?"
You hold up what appears to be a large green glass marble with magnetic caps on both sides. "This is a sample of the plague that I found while raiding the syndicate's compound."
"Good, good. So what're you going to do?"
> You say "Well what's the fastest way, other than teleporting, to get to the main vamp's lair from here."
The Vampire thinks for a moment, scratching his head.
"How about by airship? It's a long way, but we could probably get there in like a week, if we push our horses really hard."
Jesus fucking Christ.
> You say "What to horses have to do with an airship?"
The Vampire snorts, clearly amused by your question.
> You say "I mean it, I've seen a lot of airships, in my time, and a lo of horse-drawn conveyances, bu never a meeting of the two concepts."
The Vampire considers this, scratching his chin.
"Hmmm... How long can we keep them?"
"Until they drop from exhaustion, I believe."
"And how much power will that take?"
"It varies greatly depending on the horse, and the weight they're carrying. However, a good average is probably between four and five days of active riding."
The Vampire nods.
> You say "This really sounds like it has nothing to do with an airship, and is just horses..."
The Vampire shakes his head, clearly disappointed in you.
> You say "I rode on a Star Wars Hammership, just... fairly recently, so, you really can't hold it against me being a little confused by what you're talking about."
"Alright, alright, fine." He mutters, clearly irritated by your innocent ignorance on the subject.
The Vampire pauses for a moment, before smiling.
"How would you like to be a Vampire?"
Odd question to ask, but you can't help but be intrigued by the offer.
> You say "Have you heard what happened to the last guy that offered to make me a vampire?"
The Vampire smirks.
"I have. And I see no reason to believe that the same thing won't happen to me."
Without another word, he leans forward, his fangs brushing against your neck.
You immediately inject him with your syringe of distilled wine. "Wine... There's a reason Dracula never drank it." you intone with a sneer.
The Vampire hisses as the mixture enters his mouth. He falls backwards, coughing as he does so.
"What the...?" he sputters.
This particular wine came from Italy where water from a sacred mountain stream, blessed by an ancient order of monks, was used to water grapes blessed by a benedictine friar, and then stomped by baptized and pure vestal virgins, who never knew a man's course touch, then the wine was blessed by an arch-bishop while it aged in the drum, and again blessed by the pope as it aged in the bottle, you've blessed it too as it sat in the syringe, for all that that counts.
You push him up, jamming the needle of the wine into his neck.
"Drink!"
The Vampire heaves as he gulps down the liquid. Hissing, he wipes his mouth.
"I'm not thirsty." He says, clearly annoyed by the fact that you forced the wine down his throat.
"Don't be stupid, drink!"
Thirsty yet?"
The Vampire stares at you angrily.
"You will regret this." He says darkly, licking his lips.
"Maybe. Maybe not. I regret a lot of things.
The Vampire finds the pallor departing from his skin in favor of a peachy hue, his fangs and nails recede to more socially acceptable lengths, the redness clears from his eyes.
"How does it feel to be human?" you say with a wry smirk.
"It... Feels weird. I can feel everything, you know? It's been so long, I forgot what it felt like to be human. I can laugh, I can cry..."
> You say "That's why I carry a portable Alembic."
He looks at you, confused.
"What's an... Alembic?"
> You say "it's a tabletop distilling device consisting of a boiler, heat exchanger, and receiving flask. How do people keep not knowing this?"
The Vampire shakes his head in confusion.
"I'll... Let me guess: you're human?"
You look him over.
> You say "Yes, and thanks to my distilled quadruple-blessed wine, so are you."
He chuckles.
"You are a strange one, friend. But then, so am I."
He smiles at you with a set of now-blunted fangs, since he has become a human.
"Tell me, are all of the Creations like you, or are there still a few among the Wolves?"
You shrug.
> You say "I have no clue what you just asked me."
He shakes his head in confusion.
"No, I mean, are there many more of you out there?"
You raise an eyebrow.
"Other... Creations?"
He nods.
> You say "I am the one called Crazy Foo, Right out the hatch I was too cool for school, and don'tcha try to stop me, because I rule!"
He laughs, and his shoulders begin to shake.
"So... Tell me, are there many Creations out there?"
You think for a moment.
> You say "The wonderful thing about Crazy Foo, is Foos be crazy, but you ain't don't yet to meet the Foo as crazy as me."
He looks confused for a moment, before shrugging.
"Sure. Whatever you say, Crazy Human."
He pats your hand in what you hope is a sign of peace.
> You say "I hope that's a sign of peace."
He laughs, before shrugging.
"Sure. As long as you don't make a move on me that is."
You smirk.
> You say "Like you'd be able to stop me if I did."
He laughs, a bit nervously.
"Well sure, why not? But I don't want to be dinner, if that's what you're asking."
You nod.
> You say "So, where is this airship?"
"It's a big ship. Do you think you could handle it?"
You nod eagerly.
"I think so!"
He grins.
"Well, I guess you'll have to find out!"
He pulls a lever on the wall, which opens the large metal door.
"This door leads right on board. Good luck, Crazy Human!"
> You board airship.
You walk up the airship, looking at the rows and rows of sharp, deadly-looking weapons. There's no mistaking what they are: they're vampires' arms, meant to kill. You shudder in fear; if you had to fight alongside them, I'd say you could only hold out for two minutes.
Up ahead, you see the captain of the Airship walk forward, towards you.
> You address captain with due respect.
You quickly hop up, pulling your knife and waving it in the air.
"Whoa, whoa! Hold on there, Wolf," the captain says.
> You say "Just showing you the respect you're owed."
He sighs, rolling his eyes.
"Fine. But you've probably shortened your life span for this by doing that."
He sticks out his hand, and you grab it, and shake firmly.
> You say "The naked blade is how we humans solute."
He sighs, shaking his head. "You humans never change."
He drops you hand and nods towards the railing. "Then let's get going. The plague has already spread to several cities, and we aim to stop it before it spreads further."
You nod, and hop up on the railing.
> You say "I'm confused exactly what your angle is Cap'n, Why are you vampires interested in stopping a plague alleged to weaken humans and mutants?"
The captain sighs, and runs a hand through his thick black hair.
"Well, the magic plague that has been spreadin' through out the city is also spreadin' through out the vampire populace. We aim to nip this in the bud before it kills us all off."
> You say "And you believe Putting this little sample I got in the lair of the top vamp lord is gonna stop it being spread elsewhere, 'Cause I was told defeating the syndicate would stop the plague, yet here we are on our way to release yet another bauble of the stuff, at one of the few locations it has yet to touch."
"Oh, quite Literally, It'll be released right into his lair, as a message to him. If he's responsible, he'll be nipping up therr about now."
He grins.
> You say "Will that end the distribution of the plague though?"
He laughs. "Distribution? Oh no, this little bugger can spread by direct blood contact, or a simple object that has been in contact with infected blood, like, say, a syringe."
"It all starts with these though." You say, holding up the little green ampule. "Will infecting the vamp boss put an end to these being thrown around?"
"Well, we can hope, but I doubt it. Once these start being used like party favors, they're pretty much gone."
"How long until that happens?"
"A few years, maybe. These things have a habit of taking over a decade to become truly popular."
He laughs. "It's a good thing I picked you up, then."
You smirk.
"Why?"
"Because you're an idiot," he spits, laughing. "You humans are funny. You'd rather die than inconvenience, but you're willing to sacrifice me?"
"You're a vampire. I thought you were on the team."
"I AM on the team. I'm just more valuable alive, because I can remember stuff." He sighs. "The plague is airborne, so it doesn't take long for it to spread, provided that the dead bodies of infected aren't picked up and buried, or the dead bodies of infected aren't burned. To stop it from being spread by dead bodies, we need to eliminate the dead bodies. To do that, we need to kill all the vampires. So yeah, I'm more important than you. Now stop arguing and start running."
You nod. "I understand."
You leap up, grabbing onto the railing of the airship. You've seen people do this before when getting on and off the ship, but usually from a much shorter distance, and with much more grace.
Regardless of your lack of grace, instinct takes over, leathery wings sprout from your back, three sets of eyes and teeth form on your torso, presumably with accompanying skull plates and jaw bones, but you'd rather not give any thought to those, because you don't want to have to consider what the brains inside those three extra skulls might be thinking, and where those thoughts go, when you become human again. You jump as the griffins beneath you catch your scent, and take initiative. They bolt forward, and you pull yourself up onto the ship with your hands. As your feet hit the deck, you find yourself in a crouching position, ready to pounce and slay your enemies.
The airship's deck is relatively clear, though there are a few corpses lying around, as well as a few spots of blood. You see the captain, lying on the ground, being assaulted by a vampire. The monster rips out the captain's throat, before turning to face you. It's a girl, barely older than you, her pearly white fangs as large as your arm. She smiles, filled with hunger and eagerness to spill your blood. You welcome the opportunity.
She leaps at you, and you let her pounce pass you. You leap at her, and sink your teeth into her shoulder.
You rip out a chunk of her rubbery flesh, and swallow it. The three faces on your torso bite vestigially at her back. She screeches, and you spit out the blood that's filling your mouth.
> You say "The flesh is exquisite, but the blood is spoiled."
You spin, spitting blood and clumsily dodging another of her claws as it scratches at your side.
"I'm not some weak little girl to be taken down by a bloody nose." She hisses, batting you aside with one claw and leaping back to pull a serrated dagger from her side.
You laugh. "Do you think I care?"
She lunges at you once more, but you're ready for her this time. You grab her wrist, twisting it until she drops the dagger, then slamming it against the ship's railing. It breaks, and she falls back with a yelp.
You grab her by the scruff, flinging her into the air. She lets out a howl, grabbing your shoulder with her other hand as she kicks and scratches at you. You raise both of your hands, and wrap them around her head.
> You say "Have you ever seen Friday The 13th 3D?"
"Have you?" you reply, tossing her in the air.
She looks at you in confusion, before she's thrown up, and her head smashed against the railing. She collapses to the ground, dead.
> You say "For a moment I wasn't sure that would work, Maybe I should fight in gargoyle form more often..."
"Looks like we failed. The Vampire killed the crew and took control of the airship. I suppose we had a fight on our hands." Eldolith says.
"Indeed. The Vampire also killed our crew and took control of the airship." You reply.
"So what now? Do we go back to the village and tell them?"
"Of course not. We blow up the ship."
You leap forward, grabbing the cannon you saw earlier off the ground. You heft it experimentally, before walking forward until you're right above the Vampire. You aim your weapon, grabbing the trigger and pulling it. A loud bang rings out, and a ball of fire flies forward and into the hull of the airship, destroying it and killing the Vampire inside.
Eldolith claps loudly. "Yes! Good job!"
You drop the cannon, and check on the others. They're all dead, and you've failed again.
You sigh, and turn to Eldolith. "What now?" You ask.
"We leave, of course! You've already done enough."
"Where?"
"Anywhere. I'll find you."
> You diminish, go into the west, and remain gargoyle.
You drop down, slamming into the ground with a thud.
"We can leave together."
"I don't want to leave you, I want to be near you!" She says, clutching at your body.
The three imp faces on your torso gin yet more broadly.
"We'll stay together, then." You say.
You hug her, before she leaps away.
You turn, leaping into the trees westward. You fly through the trees, moving with ease towards the Count's castle.
The Vampire Village is a scene of desolation. The houses are burned out, the fields lie in ruin.
You land in the town square, the homes of the Vampire's village. The Vampire's King is dead. His Royal Guards lay dead next to him, their bodies torn apart by the blast of airship gun. You spot the Vampire responsible for killing them. He lies on the ground, severely wounded. Beside him stands an equally injured Gargoyle. It's the Gargoyle who walks up to you.
"You're the one who killed my master!" It screams in your face, it's voice booming.
"Your master is the one who killed yours!" You respond, pushing it away and landing on the ground.
It howls in rage, charging at you. You easily catch it with a tackle, snapping it's neck in your grasp.
"Fuck! Bastard!" The Gargoyle screams.
"He was my friend!" The vampire cries, holding it's face.
"The plague doesn't spread from vamp to vamp, it spreads from ghoul to human." You say.
"What do we do?" The vampire asks.
"I'll kill the infected."
"And what about the Ghoul King?"
"I'll kill him when we're done here."
You turn, walking towards the village hall. You hear screams coming from inside. The front door is barricaded, so you quickly move forward to the second one at the side. You effortlessly kick open the door, looking inside.
Darkness. You move forward, feeling along the wall for a switch. As your fingers find one, the screams from inside become louder. You flick the switch, and light floods into the room. You look around the room, at the dozen or so vampires tied to chairs and tables, their throats ripped out and decorum tracheotomies performed on them.
You turn your head, hearing something. You turn, following the noise. Down the hall, to the right, is the computer room. The only place left to look.
You continue following the screams, until you find the source of the screams. You stop, looking on in horror as a young girl lies on the floor, a large group of vampires standing over her. Her mother watches from the corner of the room, head in hands. She looks up at you as you enter, terror and relief filling her eyes. The vampires immediately turn towards you.
"Bastard!"
You charge forward, attacking with a rage. You swing your sword in an arc, cutting the throat of one. While they're humanoid, this doesn't prevent them from being destroyed. Their blood flies through the air, spattering you and the wall. You sweep your sword, cutting the legs from beneath another, as it screams. One spins and leaps out of your way, dashing towards the door. You cut down another, before you're brought by two powerful hands to your feet and turned around.
The Vampire King stands there, his fangs as long as your arm. His face is contorted by rage and hate, his eyes terrifying. You know that if you were in your prime, you'd barely have time to react.
"WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?!"
He lets out a roar, grabbing you by the throat and throwing you against the wall. You hold up your sword, but he takes this as a sign of weakness, and grabs it with one hand.
> You say "Flame Spires!"
With one word, you subvert the Vampire's supernatural strength to weaponize it. Flames spurt from his hands and wrap around your sword, causing him to drop it in shock. He makes no attempt to stop the flames, which sear his flesh and char it. The smell of burning flesh fills the room.
> You say "Triple Nightmare Shocker!"
With a roar of anger, you charge forward. The Vampire King attempts to stop you, but his skin catches fire and his reflexes slow from the flames. You smash into him and send him crashing to the ground.
> You say "This is your nightmare, Vampire King, Your greatest fear is that a mere human could amass so much individual power, as to be your superior, but it's all real, so even inf you could wake up, you'd still be living your nightmare!"
Suddenly, your eyes flicker open and you find yourself standing above a dying Vampire, who is desperately trying to stop you from burning him. He then looks up to see the real threat, you.
> You say "Pay attention, Because I'm about to give you the lesson in pain of a millennia!"
You stomp down your foot and crush his neck. As he coughs up blood, you smile. Soon, you find yourself in the sewers, just outside of Elizabeth's home. You suddenly stop, looking around.
"I'm here." You whisper to yourself.
You begin to walk, heading towards the house. Suddenly, you see two figures standing at the end of a tunnel. You quickly hide, watching them. The tunnel leads straight towards them.
A Vampire stands there, holding a large sword, while a Vampiress with long black hair and a red dress stands next to her, holding a large curved knife. Both have smiles on their faces, as they step forward and begin to dance.
"Why stop now?" the Vampire smiles."
"You're here because you're a monster." Her reply."
"Ah, but my darling, so are you."
The Vampire begins to chant, as his sword glows. The Vampiress raises her weapons, smiling.
"Time to die, monster."
You leap out, grabbing the Vampire. You break her neck with one hand, before grabbing the Vampiress and twisting her neck, killing her instantly.
"I'm here because I'm a hero!" you whisper under your breath.
You smile, as they begin to merge with you. You begin to glow, as the Vampires stand in front of you.
"Why do you care?" one asks."
"I'm here to stop the Vampire invasion." You reply."
"There's no invasion."
"I saw it, I was there!"
"There's no invasion, or you're just making it up."
You pause, realizing they don't believe you.
"Alright, I made it up. But I'm here to stop it!"
"Whatever sugar." The Vampire replies, as you walk past him.
You walk through the tunnel, and outside into the moonlight. You walk up to the Vampires, and grab them, throwing them into the pit. They scream, as you drop the bomb off at the edge of the pit.
Then, you do something you've wanted to do for a long time. You dance. You dance around the bomb, which is set to go off in exactly three minutes, and begin to have the best time. You dance for your friends, for your family, for humanity.
Time passes, and soon, you come across a giant wall of dirt. You smash through it, to find a massive army of infected. You raise your sword, and move forward. Then, the bomb goes off.
You are suddenly thrown back by the force of the explosion, and you fly through the air. You smash into a rock, and seeing double, you try to get up. You're blinded by dust and blood, but soon it passes. You stand slowly, to find that the cloud has passed.
Before you, is the ruins of Glasgow. The buildings have collapsed, and the roads are covered with debris and entrails of the dead.
You walk forward through the city, as it began to dawn on you what happened. The entire city has been infected. It took you a while to get here, and the infection has taken hold.
> You say "How did Glasgow Kentucky end up like this?"
You walk down the street, passing the dead. None of them are moving, but you know they're all infected. You reach a large building, and quickly climb up the fire escape. You reach the roof, and you stare out at the city. You know what you have to do.
You turn, and begin running along the rooftops. You leap from rooftop to rooftop, quickly reaching your escape. You pass three more buildings, before you finally get above ground. You sprint away from the city, as the infected begin to prowl and hunger stirs. You know the vampires will arrive soon. You need to leave, and fast.
Suddenly, you hear a low rumbling sound. You look behind you, to see a group of motorcycles driving towards you. You immediately hide amongst the rooftops as they get close, and you see dozens of undead creatures wandering around the area. They must have finally caught up with you.
You hear a powerful, yet strangely broken voice yell out,"Stop! ID!"
You keep running. The vampires have found you. Now what will you do?
> You will probably try to blow up their bikes with orange lightning, or something like that.
You sit on the roof, waiting patiently. As the bikers approach, you wave your hands quickly and orange flames lance from your fingers, engulfing one of the bikes and burning it to a crisp. The other bikers swerve away, some falling off their bikes as they go. You wave your hands again, and the flames go out.
"Holy shit!" one of them screams.
> You say "Did you think you were dealing with any ordinary female Human warrior?"
You hold up your hands.
"I don't want to kill you, I want to talk to you."
"Fuck you're fucking breaking up!" the biker screams.
You put your phone away. In a few moments, they're gone. You sigh and get up, making your way down to the street. You walk along, heading towards your destination. Suddenly, you hear screeching tires. You turn your head to see a car speeding straight at you. You raise your hands, waiting for the impact.
Suddenly, the car crashes into something. The car bursts into flames, and you watch in amazement as the car speeds straight through the air, going airborne for a moment, before crashing back to the road with a huge explosion. You look around, but nothing is left but burning metal and broken glass. You're not quite sure what just happened, but you head off in a different direction.
Suddenly, you feel something hitting you from the back. You fall to the ground as you feel a blade hit your throat. Grabbing the blade, you turn around and throw the Vampire off of you. He's not quite as fast as she is, and you easily pull the dagger from his throat before he can get another hit at you.
"Wait!" he screams. "We're not monsters! We're the last of the Clean!"
You look at him in confusion. He begins to ramble on about how the world has gone to shit and that he and the others are trying to find a cure, but they need your help. he cries.
You aim your gun at his head again and pull the trigger.
"I'm starting to get sick of these damn guns!" you complain to the Vampire, missing his head by an inch.
> You say "The witch Hazel found the cure years go, but I haven't seen her or the other toons this entire chapter."
"There's a witch in Stanton!?!? Give me one reason why I shouldn't bite you!" the Vampire growls.
"Because if you do, I'll be fucking dead." he shouts.
You press the gun to his head again, silencing him for good.
"You sure took the long way around, didn't you?"
"Longer than killing you would have been worth." he says, and turns into a black smoke that dissipates suddenly.
You sigh and get up, walking onwards. You find Hazel, who is lying in the middle of the road, right in front of the shopping center.
"Hazel! Hazel! Are you alright?" you say, dropping to your knees.
"C-captured.....stag...hanged of...drug...ing..." Hazel slurs, as you take her shoulders and look into her eyes.
You hear the distant sound of an explosion and look up in time to see a flaming mass of material fall from the sky. It slams into the building, which begins to burn fiercely.
You hear the sounds of motorcycles drawing nearer, and you immediately wonder what you can do to save her.
You have two choices:
A. You can drag her into the basement of the abandoned drug store a few blocks away and try to heal her in the infirmary there.
B. You can try to rush to the drug store and throw a firebomb into the basement before the bikers arrive.
> You a.
You drag Hazel along the road, toward your helicopter. Her eyes are open, but she is clearly delirious. You check your watch, and realize that you have about six minutes before the Vampire raids begin. You should probably get her to the helicopter.
You ignore her pleas for help, and head to the helicopter. You drag her through the street, which are now filled with vampire hunters, as gunshots ring out. You carry her through the streets, ignoring the pain of her burning weight.
You reach the helicopter, and quickly load her into the helicopter. You turn to shut the door, and that's when you see the vampire hunters swarming out of the building, firing at you.
They have semi-automatic weapons, and they begin firing upon you immediately.
> You say "I'm a human, you damned idiots!"
You mutter angrily as the bullets thud into your body. It breaks your concentration, and you find yourself flung against the wall of the helicopter, harshly. It appears that they didn't like your claim of being human.
You're going to die here. Not in battle, not by a hero's death, not even by a Hunter's bullet. You're just going to die here.
You feel your jaw crack from the force of the bullet, and you whimper pitifully as you hold your face in your hands.
"I'm so sorry, baby," you whisper to yourself.
You hear a loud whirring sound, and an explosion shakes the ground. This explosion is so great it causes your ears to ring and your vision to momentarily go black.
You look up in time to watch the drug store explode, sending a wave of fire and smoke into the streets. The fire engulfs the building, which is now reduced to rubble in a matter of seconds.
You watch as the smoke clears, and find yourself staring at a burning pile of rubble. The street is now empty. The hunters are long gone.
You look down at Hazel, and find her still unconscious. Your eyes grow as wide as dinner plates.
You begin to shake her, "Wake up! Please, wake up!"
She's not going to wake up for a while.
By the time she wakes up, it will be to a hell of vampirism she never suspected, and you won't have time to warn her.
You'll be lucky if you live to see it.
You're going to die here.
You sigh, and tell her how much you love her.
As your conciousnes fades away and you're sure that this will be the last time you close your eyes, you behold a sight that you never expected would grace your vision again, Eldolith, in all her curvy perfection, the last thing you hear before your awareness fades to black and resounding silence is her voice saying, "You're not dying here, Crazy Foo."
The next thing you hear steadily creeps into your awareness, as of many insects gathering about you, but they're not insects, the sounds are too rhythmic, precise, and mechanical, The blips and whirs of medical equipment, monitoring your heart rate, brain waves, and other vital functions. the steady drip of your intravenous hydration bag is the one hint of the natural world that intercedes in this chorus of artificial preservation.
"She's alive, then?" The voice is flat and monotonously bored, "I calculated the odds of her survival at about ten to one."
The voice doesn't sound like a he, you're almost certain of that.
"Well, get on with it."
The familiar robotic voice that has plagued you since your transference here.
> You say "It's a mistake underestimating me, the odds of my survival are always 100%"
The room is silent, but you hear the faintest hint of a snort of laughter.
"I'm not underestimating you," The voice starts again,
> You say "I'm Crazy Foo, and there's not an hombre on this planet that can send me to Boot Hill."
"You're a damn fool, because you don't know shit about me." You snap angrily, waking up from your delusions.
The voice is silent for a moment, as you hear a ticking noise approaching you.
"This is a very, very bad idea."
You hear the shuffling of leather boots as the figure makes his approach towards you.
"I'm not a damn fool." You state calmly, as he looms over you, blocking out the light completely.
The moon is out, but there is hardly a sliver to be seen behind the this creature's blackened and withered mask. His black cloak is moth eaten, thin, and transparent. The cloak hangs from a bony frame, and his eyes are like flames. As he stares at you, you see the hunger in his eyes. He looks hungry, desperately so, akin to a junkie coming off a fix.
"Then you're a very brave fool." He whispers, leaning in. "Tell me, do you like the cloak?"
A long, forked tongue snakes out from between his lips as he smiles, revealing a fanged mouth.
> You say "Is that supposed to scare me? Do you have any Idea who I am?!"
The Vampire's smile widens as he leans towards you, "I know all about you." He whispers, his breath like a freezing gust of wind.
You lean back, "If you know all about me, then you know I don't scare."
He chuckles, "You're bold for a man who knows he is prey."
> You say "I'm a mad violent woman warrior, who kills Vampires for breakfast, and you know what, I've had a long fast."
His laugh is like the shrieking of a mortally stricken girl, "You think you're funny?" He asks in a hissing whisper.
You smile under your hood, "I think you need a straight answer."
You see his hands curl into fists, before you feel his head brush past you as he leaps towards the doorway.
"I couldn't care less." You snarl.
You catch up with him, despite your shaky balance leaning on the IV pole. He stands, leaning against the opposite wall, staring at you.
> You say "If I had a butcher's knife right now this would be perfect, but I guess I'll have to settle for... This bone-saw!"
You lash out, grabbing the bone saw and smashing it into his forearm. You hear a cracking sound as the bone gives way.
You snarl as you grab his uninjured arm, flinging him against the wall.
> You say "For some people talk is cheap, but saying words makes me even stronger."
You press the saw against his throat as you snarl. His eyes glow red, before they narrow and he stares at you.
> You cut through his throat until you feel bone, then keep cutting.
You snarl as you saw through bone, gristle and muscle. You wince as the blade bites into his spinal column but keep sawing. His eyes widen as you saw through his neck but there's still no noise other than the occasional confusing mumbled oath.
His neck snaps forward causing you to stumble back. You watch as his head falls to one side then forward again as his body tries to catch up. You're hit by the scent of frying blood and flesh.
You snarl, stumbling forward and pouncing. You grab his head with one hand and saw through his chest, abdomen and guts with wild sawing motions. You fling his bleeding remains at the wall as you snarl, spitting out bits of partially chewed bone.
You wince as a heavy hand lands on your shoulder.
"You alright son?" The doctor asks, staring at you.
"Yeah... Yeah!" You snarl, turning and nodding.
"OK, so what's your name and serial number?"
You stare at him, shaking your head.
> You say "I'm Crazy Foo, a female Human warrior. I"
"Then..." Doctor Graves says, trailing off and looking around nervously. "Then what are you?"
"Well..." You trail off, not knowing how to describe yourself.
> You say "I'm nobody's number, I'm a free woman!"
"I'm nobody's..." You trail off, not knowing how to describe yourself.
"What?! What are you!"
you look down at your muscular green and utterly ill-conceived body, the six blank red eyes look back up at you innocently, the three toothy grins gape jovially, the three long twisted tongues hang out lackadaisically, your long leathery wings streatch out behind you. You forgot you're still in gargoyle form.
"I'm Crazy Foo, a female Human warrior. I'm nobody's number, I'm a free woman!" You snarl, flaring your wings and swaggering forward.
"At least you're free..." He replies, staring at you.
You stare at him, wondering what he means.
"What?" You ask nervously.
He stares back at you, his eyes widening.
"Relax, I'm not going to bite you." He says nervously, "I'd only bite back, you know."
You tilt your head and stare at him, wondering what he means.
"Don't worry about these guys," you say pointing yo the imp faces on your breasts and crotch, "They only bite playfully."
He stares at you, his eyes widening. You can tell he thinks you're joking but your eyes don't betray you, as always.
"I'm not joking."
"Well, if you're not joking..." He replies, trailing off and looking around nervously. "I'll have to kill you then won't I?"
"Sure."
He takes a deep breath and reaches for his sword.
"Do I really have to?" You ask.
"Afraid so."
You take a deep breath and wait. He swings his sword and you leap aside. You watch his blade whistle past you as you quickly move forward and spin behind him. You twist his arm and he cries out as you pull it behind his back. With his other hand he takes a dagger from his belt and stabs it into the wooden floor.
> You say "Not so fast, round boy, we're gonna have some laughs."
You laugh as he tries to pull his arm free but you simply let it dangle uselessly behind him. The knife slips out of it and falls to the ground with a clatter.
> You say "Have you hear the legend of Deez?"
"No." Doctor Graves says, frowning.
"Deez imp-faced gargoyle titties, of course!" you proclaim, turning Dr. Graves around and letting the imp faces on your breasts playfully bite his nipples. "See? I told you I wasn't joking."
"That's terrible!" He cries, twisting around and grabbing your head in his hands, "You're a terrible person!"
He tosses you aside and you hit the stone floor with a thud. You groan and shake your head as you lazily get to your feet.
"I'm no monster." You say, "I had to do what I had to do to survive."
"I'd say..." He says, slowly walking towards you.
You back up, thinking of the many ways you could take him down a peg.
"I'd say..." He continues, "You're no hero."
He swings his sword and you barely dodge it. He advances slowly, as you step in and out of the various traps

There are very few things in this world that are as fickle as human life. Like the ephemeral flame of a candle, our light can be suffocated at any moment. We often take this fact for granted and live as if we have been given the blessing of immortality. This fallacy, however, is exposed every so often.

Be it in the fall, when discolored leaves drift away from the branches of trees, or perhaps as we travel down the highway late at night, and our headlights bring the corpse of an animal into sight. For me, it was when I witnessed my brother die before my very eyes.

My toes sank into the warm grains of sand underneath my feet. I sat on a towel, my chin resting on the palm of my hand. The gentle motion of the waves carried the pleasant aroma of saltwater towards me. I closed my eyes and bathed in the sunlight, smiling to myself as I enjoyed that perfect day. That pleasant moment, however, was short-lived.

Suddenly the brilliant warmth that had soaked my body disappeared and was replaced by a large, looming coldness. As my vision returned, I saw a large shadow standing over me. I spun around, but it was too little too late.

I sprung into the air, screaming bloody murder. A cold liquid drenched my skin and clothes.

"Holy fucking shit," I cried, grabbing my towel and wrapping it around my body. The rough texture of the sand ground against my skin, but I overlooked it for the time.

A burst of booming laughter erupted from the burly man in front of me. He hunched over, one arm covering his mouth, the other gripping a bright red bucket. I rolled my eyes, sighing heavily while drying myself off.

"Mr. Funny man over here thinks he's a fucking comedian," I muttered under my breath. I lifted the black strands of hair that covered my face and tossed them over my shoulder, revealing my eyes. I gave him my signature death stare, which had been meticulously crafted over the course of nineteen years of enduring dumbass pranks.

"Come on man, lighten up. You're always so up-tight about everything nowadays. Not everything needs to be so serious," he said, dropping the bucket and placing his hands on his hips. He pretended to give me a stern look before chuckling to himself once more.

I turned my head away from him to showcase my disapproval. Admittedly, he was a pretty funny guy, but I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of knowing I thought that. Instead, I shifted my attention to the blue cooler that sat to the right of us.

"Yo, I brought that with us for a reason. You wanna have a drink, or do you just wanna act like a dick head some more?"

"Who says I can't drink AND act like an dick head," he replied in the snarkiest tone imaginable. For a moment, he broke through my defenses and elicited a smirk from me. I hoped he wouldn't notice it, but judging by the pleased grin on his face, he caught me red-handed.

We clinked our glass bottles together and took a swig of our beverages.

"Hey, you didn't get that zero calorie diet coke shit did you," he asked, raising his eyebrow in suspicion.

"What the hell are you talking about? This is the real deal," I responded.

He folded his arms and glared at me, scrunching his nose up in disgust.

"You... do know I'm trying to lose weight right? I'm getting fat, man."

I sarcastically nodded my head in agreement. Of course, the gym rat of the family would need to "lose weight". Standing up, I walked to the edge of the water, looking down and viewing my reflection. My brother soon arrived and stood by my side, placing an arm around my shoulder.

"Look at us, man."

I turned and eyed him warily, expecting some kind of sarcastic remark or stupid joke to slip from his lips. It never came. He simply looked into the water at our reflection, a grin plastered onto his face. My head turned back to face the ocean. We had grown. Gone were the days where we would play in the backyard, pretending that the sticks and stones we wielded were swords and shields. The chubby baby faces we both once had were replaced with sharp jawlines that sported hair.

That being said, we would both be lying if we said we no longer held any "childish" qualities. Though my brother was far more open about them, mine were more... dormant. They manifested during that moment, however, as my lips curved into a mischievous grin. I placed my hand on his back. He had gotten me earlier with his water bucket, and that was something I couldn't just let go of. An eye for an eye.

His eyes widened and he let out a meek gasp as I shoved him into the water. With a splash, he sank beneath the surface. From my stomach erupted thunderous laughter, for I had finally gotten my revenge. Only, my incessant laughter ceased once I realized that the submerged body of my brother had not resurfaced. It wouldn't be unlike him to stay underneath the water to scare me, so I waited for a few moments. A few moments became seconds, and seconds became a full minute. I grew increasingly worried and rushed into the water, groping underneath the surface, feeling for my brother.

As soon as I felt a mass of skin within my grasp, I pulled upward with all my might. I clung desperately to the man within my arms, dragging him back to the sandy shores. I laid him down on my towel. The black and blue bruise on his forehead was large enough to be visible. I smacked his cheek, softly at first, then more forcefully.

"Fuck... no no no this isn't fucking happening right now...", were the sole words I uttered as I shook his body...

I clawed at my pockets and ripped my phone out from inside them, furiously dialing for help...

I never knew how beautiful my mother looked in black. It was a color she never wore, and I wish it stayed that way. Friends and family from all over the country gathered to celebrate the memory of my brother. I looked down towards the note cards I firmly gripped in my hands. My eyes glanced over the first few words I had written on them.

"I would like to thank everyone for coming today. Today is not a day of grieving. Rather, it is a day for our friends and family to come together and celebrate the life of my brother, James White."

I tucked the notes into my pocket for the time. As the service progressed, my father must have noticed my growing anxiety. My leg shook as my time to speak approached. I felt my father's hand softly pat me on the back. It was comforting and gave me just enough strength to persevere. Finally, it was my turn to speak. I stood up and walked to the front of the room. Turning to face my family, I removed the note cards from my pocket and began reading.

Time seemed to slow down that day. Each word that exited my parted lips took forever to do so. I made my way down the script, choking back tears in the process. It wasn't until towards the end of my speech that I broke down, gripping the wooden podium before me and sobbing into my sleeve. My father approached and firmly embraced me, before leading me back to my seat. Extending his hand, I offered him my notes, and he took to the podium.

"James was a brother, a son, and above all else, an amazing human being. May his memory be cherished forever, for all the smiles he gave to those around him. James, I hope that you're somewhere out there looking upon us. We want you to know that we love you, and that..."

My father paused for a moment. I hung my head down, preparing for what I would hear next. With a hefty sigh, he finished his sentence.

"We hope that you know we forgive you... for taking your life."

Typing this has been rough. It's hard for me to put down the bottle for long enough to focus. The way the glass presses against my lips is the only thing that comforts me anymore. I need the courage to write my thoughts down, and it doesn't matter what the source of that courage is.

For five minutes and twenty-eight seconds, my brother's heart stopped. That's what the doctors told me, anyway. It was a miracle they were able to resuscitate him at all. I remember the glimmer of hope sparkling within me as I heard the news. That feeling sunk beneath the depths of my stomach, however, and was replaced with guilt. I was the reason he almost died... what would he think of me? Would he understand that it was just an accident? How could he forgive me if I couldn't even forgive myself?

What a fucking joke.

Ultimately I don't know if he forgave me or not. I suppose at this point, it doesn't matter. When I saw him again for the first time since the incident, he didn't say a word to me. His lips never moved once. In fact, neither did his face. He had this... blank stare about him. It was as if he simply saw through everything he looked in the direction of.

I take a swig of my drink.

Occasionally, I would catch him talking to himself. From what I could tell, his words were mostly an incoherent jumble of noise. All that I could derive from what he was saying, was that he "missed" something. What this thing was, I did not know. More importantly, I didn't know where my brother went. It was like he was an entirely different person. I missed his smile. I missed his laughs. I missed his dumbass pranks. I missed my brother.

Another swig. I need to keep it together.

He often wouldn't come out of his room. When I did go to check on him, I would simply find him slouched over on his bed, murmuring to himself. Other times he would simply sit in a fetal position in his room, rocking back and forth while staring ahead at the blank wall coated in white paint.

Another swig.

His eyes were as lifeless as they appeared while he laid unconscious on the beach. He ate. He slept. He drank. More than anything, he rambled on and on to himself about... about nonsense.

Another swig.

The embrace of the liquor provides me with the warmth I've missed. A white capsule bottle sits beside me. I keep reading the label on it over and over. It's so distracting.

There was a night that I remember. There was so much ear peircing screaming

Another swig.

I burst into hims room to find him clawing at his face. His nails were tearing into his ownskin. He was screaming so god damn much, but those eyes... those eyes remained soulless even as he duginto his own flesh.

Antothr swig

he stood there and just screamed and screamed and fucking screamed and he fucking screamed and just stared at me and would not stop staring at me while he screamed.

anthrr fucking swig

he bashedhis his god damn faceinto th fuckng wall so much and his screams stopped when he collapssed and godthere was so much fucking blood coating his faceandfinger s and

another swi

god this shit. Is almost fucking empty

the only tjing he left was a paper

"I need to goback." it read

its empty. The glass is empty. both of the bottles are empty.

five minutes and twtny eight fuckin second

what the fck did he see. what did yousee james? Whatdidyou seethat made you likethat. whatmade you so desprte to leav this world. whatmade you break when youcame back to us

i want to see it too james. I wanttoseeitwithyou

When I woke up, I only recognized the growing sense of thirst from within my dehydrated body. I licked my parched lips and slipped out of the covers, my body suddenly hit by the cold air stitched into the seams of the oppressive darkness ahead. I quivered as I reluctantly embraced the chill temperature and made my way to the door, jumping with each step as small creaks were produced from the weight of my foot being placed upon the oak floorboards. Although the noise was faint, it sounded deafeningly loud in contrast to the dead silence surrounding my petite self.

All five of my fingers curled around the bronze colored door knob ahead, and they steadily turned it until a small click was heard. I then placed my tiny hand against the wooden door coated in a fine layer of white paint, and with a gentle push, the barrier between the safe haven of a child's bedroom and whatever lay beyond was removed.

I shivered as a new draft of icy air entered the room. A brand new wave of darkness seemed to rush through the doorway and engulf the area, its color resembling that of tar. Summoning all the courage I could, I placed both feet firmly on the beige carpet that embellished the ground. My eyes glared at the corridor before me. It appeared lengthier at night than during the day. I could imagine elongated arms melting from the walls on both sides, grasping at my clothing. I could envision dozens of spiders dropping from the ceiling, several landing on my hair, and others crawling on the surface of my body.

Shaking my head, I banished such thoughts and proceeded down the hallway. The hair on the back of my neck stood up as I walked past the room where my parents soundly rested in their comfortable bed. There was no turning back, and even if I wanted to, my craving for a drink to sedate my ever growing dehydration only grew. I carried on still, finally reaching the end of the endless path, and found myself in a clearing. By then, my eyes had grown somewhat accustomed to the dark, and I could make out a few pieces of furniture and a television set.

I slowed my pace and gulped nervously. A sense of peril entrenched the room. I found that shadows would dance in the corner of my eyes, only to disappear once I turned my head in their direction. The darkness seemed even more foreboding than it had just seconds earlier. I desperately wished to run to my parents like I had so many times before. Still, I remembered how they had always told me there was nothing to be afraid of. They explained numerous times that my young imagination would always come up with ways to scare me, but I had to learn to be brave and overcome the fear I would often encounter at the hands of my own mind. Thus, my mind was set on proving to my mother and father that I wasn't afraid anymore, and so I carried on.

I confidently walked forward, repeating what my parents had said in my thoughts with each stride. After taking a few steps, I heard it. From behind me, I could make out the sound of footsteps, their rhythm conflicting with my own. As I stopped, so did they. My heart began beating faster than before. Had it been my mind playing tricks on me again? I resumed my steady pace, and this time, the only footsteps I could hear were my own.

As I neared the kitchen, I found myself standing completely still once more. Figures and shapes yet again found themselves located in the corners of my eyes. I attempted to take a few deep breaths in order to calm down. It was just my imagination, right? I tried my hardest to assure myself of that, but somewhere in the back of my mind, I doubted it, and that growing sense of fear showed as I walked even faster. I kept my eyes focused ahead, not daring to look behind me for even a second.

The off-beat footsteps returned once again, and I responded by going even faster. I felt the wind start to pick up and brush by my face as I realized how quickly I was moving. I was certain that my imagination was causing me to hear the footsteps on my trail and the forms appearing in the corner of my eyes. I was aware that my imagination was the reason behind my deepest, darkest fears, which were beginning to make their presence known within his soul. I knew for a fact that only my imagination could make my heart beat the way it did, and soak my palms in a thin layer of sweat. My parents would never lie to me, would they?

Regardless of what I knew to be true or not, I was close to arriving at my destination. I began a full sprint as I felt the darkness clutching my ankles and arms. I could hear the footsteps aimlessly walking around, and more illusions of figures accompanied them. I had one hell of an imagination, and I had one thought racing through my mind. I needed to find a light switch.

I was desperate for light that would illuminate my surroundings, driving back the treacherous night and whatever creatures lived within it, their sole purpose in life to capture me and munch on my bones. I was so close, just a few feet away. I leaped forward and pushed a small lever upwards, soaking me and the area in a warm, much appreciated glow. I sighed deeply, relieved to be out of danger at last. However, before I could even move, my heart stopped, and my eyes widened.

Behind me, I heard a voice most unfamiliar. It was rough, guttural, and moist, and it echoed throughout the entire house.

"Finally... I can see you."

I flicked off the lights before letting out a shrill cry. I dashed through the darkness, through the living room, the hallway, all the way to my parents room. Though I can't be certain, I... I swear I could hear the faint sound of childish giggling from behind me. My parents were frustrated that I had awoken them, but I didn't care in the slightest. I clung to my mother, sobbing into her chest.

My father didn't find anything in the house. He searched every nook and cranny of the place, only to confirm his suspicions that we were the sole occupants. My parents let me sleep with them that night. I knew that no matter what I said, they would simply chalk my experience up to being a consequence of a hyperactive mind.

But I knew... I knew there was something with me. I knew beyond any doubt, that the breathing I felt on the back of my neck, and that deep, perverted voice was all real. Looking back I feel almost silly that I was afraid of the dark. We were never afraid of the dark. Rather, it was what was in the dark that petrified us to our very core.

It was the knowledge that the only thing separating us from a potentially cruel, twisted fate, was the thin veil of darkness surrounding us.

Eight-forty on a Saturday evening.

They say that there are some moments in our life that we’ll remember for an eternity. Events that we find are branded into our minds, whether we like it or not. We say that we recall these moments down to the minutest detail, and I can attest to that theory quite well. The clear water droplets plummeted from above, splashing onto the windshield. Cars traveled alongside the vehicle, their headlights illuminating the rain, and the night sky contained thousands of dazzling stars above.

Inhale.

My chest rose, my lungs taking in crisp air from the slightly opened window beside me. I turned my head, my eyes meeting with hers, and then falling about her gorgeous teeth and her rose lips.

Exhale.

My gaze fixated on my rearview mirror, observing my young boy strapped firmly in the backseat, fast asleep.

Inhale.

My eyes grew wide as the high beams flooded my vision. In an instant, I launched my foot toward the break, clenching my teeth hard, jaw locked firmly shut. The sound of metal colliding terrorized my ears, and my car’s momentum carried us forward. Glass shattered as the vehicle came to a violent halt, causing my body to jerk forward and my face to plant directly into the steering wheel.

Two shrieks, one from beside me, and one from behind erupted into the night. They died down as soon as they began, and suddenly there was no sound at all. My body was rendered immobile, and my eyesight faded away, yet my lips still functioned. They gently parted, but all I could squeak out was a measly “No…” before darkness overwhelmed me.

From that point on, I vaguely recall the noisy sound of bustling people, and being in a white corridor. Beaming lights shone overhead, beckoning for me. I tried reaching out towards it, yet I could not move my arms. My eyes fluttered, and I once more drifted away into sleep.

I would stay in the hospital for several weeks, recovering from various fractures and undergoing multiple surgeries. My body ached, yet my physical pain could not compare to my worries about my family. Although I felt a relief like no other wash over me when the staff informed me that my son had survived, a familiar sense of dread later overtook me as I learned my wife was in critical condition.

Those nights took an eternity to pass. I consistently glanced towards the clock on the wall, observing the hands tick by minute by minute. Tears would claw their way from my eyes at strange hours of the day, drenching my cheeks in moisture until my cheeks burned red, and the sweat forming in my palms dampened the bedsheets I clenched.

Each time one of the staff or doctors came into my room, my vision darted towards them. I knew they could read my mind. They would give me this pitiful look when they looked into my pleading eyes. Every time I asked, they would give me the same non-answer.

“I assure you, Mister Johnson, we are doing our best to treat your wife.”

Every day I met with some variation of this response. Yet, I persisted, determined to hear that my wife would be okay. Until one day, one of the staff entered my room. Shakily standing up to greet him, I grinned and extended my arm towards his. That’s when I noticed the sullen look plastered on his face, and my heart descended below my chest.

He spoke calmly, methodically, each word exiting his lips in slow motion. My knees quivered, lightly at first, and then more rapidly as he continued. As they eventually buckled, I collapsed to the floor, my chest furiously heaving, each breath I took growing more exasperated than the last.

Several people restrained me and placed me back onto my bed. I think they were trying to give me words of encouragement and sympathy in the process, but whatever they said blended into an incoherent mess. The men and women beside me blurred into unrecognizable forms, and I stared straight ahead. The abhorrently foul stench of perspiration dripping from every orifice of my body dug into my nose and pricked my eyes. My mind, blank as a paper, grew weary, and I finally gave in to the staff attempting to keep me still.

The nurses helped clean me up shortly following that outburst. After receiving fresh clothing and being given time and space to come to terms with the news, my nurse escorted me to the lobby. There he stood, waiting for me. I rushed towards him as quickly as possible. Stooping down, I embraced him, resting my chin on his scalp and gently patting his back. He buried his head into my chest. My shirt moistened, and I held him even closer.

He knew.

Before we left the hospital, I received a few recommendations for psychiatrists and therapists in my area. After thanking the staff for all their help, my son and I took the bus back to our neighborhood later that night. We had baked chicken with rice that night, but he just sat there, poking his food with his fork. Sighing, I finished my plate, hoping it would inspire him to do the same. Instead, he pushed his dish away from him, in front of where an empty chair stood before the table.

I knew he wouldn’t budge, but I knew the hospital had been keeping him healthy and nourished. I told him he should go to bed and get some rest, and he obliged, hopping up from his seat and making his way to his room. After he crawled in bed, I tucked him in and asked if he’d like me to sleep in his room for the night. He shook his head, rejecting my offer. I bent down and kissed his forehead, wishing him a good night.

I opened my laptop and researched the therapy centers cited in the pamphlet I received earlier. I grimaced when I read the costs for each one. My wife made money along with me for our family. That, combined with the opportunity cost forfeited by my hospital stay, took immediate therapy out of the question. Sighing, I closed the computer and trod over to my bedroom.

Placing my palm against the wooden door, I traced my fingers along its perimeter until they met the cold brass knob. Counting down from five, I forced myself to open the door upon reaching zero. I set foot into the room, flicking the light switch upward. As the bulb cast its light onto dull, grey walls surrounding me, I mustered the courage to set one foot in front of the other. Making my way over to the oak frame of my queen-sized bed, I looked down upon the blankets before me. The bed felt so different.

It felt so empty.

Beside the bed sat a dresser, with a picture frame placed atop it. There stood a man and his soulmate, their faces beaming with glee. Feeling the tears trickling down my cheeks, I glanced back toward the bed, realizing I was dampening the sheets while I wept. Breathing in deeply, I turned and exited the room with haste. Retreating to the living room, I laid down on the couch, and after a few hours of tossing and turning, my body finally shut down and let me rest.

I didn’t recognize where I was. All I knew was that pure light surrounded me, overloading my senses. My mouth opened, yet I didn’t make a sound. I extended my arm, groping ahead of me for whatever surface I could find. My fingers were met with… a wheel.

The sound of an engine roared from somewhere within the light. Tires swerved, and voices shrieked.

Bang.

Metal tearing into metal. Incoherent, shrill cries produced from the back of the car. Was this truly happening again? My head jerked forward with the momentum of the vehicle. The commotion ceased as suddenly as it arrived, leaving me in a state of disarray. The cold night air seeped in through the shattered window, erecting the hairs on my arms. Everything was still.

It was a dream. I knew it was a dream. So why could I so vividly sense the beads of sweat trickling down my arms and pooling around my knuckles? How is it that a figment of my subconscious mind was able to perfectly replicate the texture of the leather-coated steering wheel which I so desperately clung to? Internally, I knew what would greet me if I were to shift my gaze to my right. Then I felt it. The round object slumped against my shoulder. The messy strands of hair against my arm. The warm liquid droplets falling and splashing against my hand.

I couldn’t even form a coherent thought before my attention shifted to the sudden weight pressed against my left shoulder. Five slender fingers held me in their grip. My head spun around in the opposite direction to observe who was touching me. Upon doing so, my gaze was met with an arm reaching through the shattered window. I tilted my head up, and before me stood a man.

He stood tall, adorned with black jeans and a grey dress suit. His frame was much too small for his clothes, however. He appeared fragile; the skin of his arms seemed to loosely stretch over the bone underneath. It was as if he would disintegrate if even the slightest force were applied to him.

Despite the situation around me, my body eased into the seat. I felt a sensation of relief wash over me. He carried an unexplainable aura of familiarity about him. Even despite his malnourished frame, even despite his lanky stature, even despite his face appearing to have been blurred out of existence entirely, I did not fear him.

It almost depressed me that my encounter with him was brief, as I awoke before my eyes scanned what should have been his face. It all happened so fast. I placed my hand on my left shoulder, running my fingertips along its surface. The imprint that would have been left by the man was not there. Of course, it wasn’t. It was just a nightmare, after all. I can’t say for certain I understand what I dreamt of that night. It all felt so real. I didn’t recognize the man I encountered either, so how could I possibly have felt such an intrinsic connection between him and I?

Although I’m not sure what to make of it, I can’t help but get the sneaking suspicion that there’s more to this than I’m currently comprehending. After all, a dream is said to be a gateway into the subconscious. Whatever the case may be, I’ll be sure to keep you guys updated. Thank you for reading all I’ve had to say up to this point.

(An Update)

I felt a soft tugging on my beige shirt. The small hand of my boy gripped the polyester tightly. I placed my hand on his head, gently massaging his scalp and pulling him closer to me. The funeral service had occurred just hours prior. Our family wasn’t particularly social. We had a few friends and family stop by and offer their condolences to me.

It was nice, but if I’m honest, it didn’t make me feel better in the slightest. Excuse me for feeling this way, but I wasn’t exactly receptive to socializing at my wife’s funeral. I only went out of necessity, as well as in pursuit of some form of closure. That closure never did arrive. After it was all said and done, the other attendees left, and it was just my son and I standing before her casket, all alone.

I stepped forward, placing my hand on the wooden box. The casket sat on a platform. Roses and candles were placed near it on a table. It was a lovely set-up, yet it didn’t feel complete. I knew her body wasn’t inside. Her mangled corpse could not be presented for an open casket funeral, so we planned on having her cremated, and having her remains buried. I turned, preparing to leave, but before I could, something peculiar caught my attention.

Thump

I spun around, eyeing the casket. Had I been hearing things? No, the only ones in the room were my son and I-

I turned back to exit the room, only to find my boy had disappeared. Where had he gone? He couldn’t have left the room, I hadn’t heard any footsteps. Before I could call his name, I heard it again.

Thump

I most definitely had not been imagining things.

“Sean, where are you buddy?!” I called out, now aware of the anxiety bubbling within me. I heard no answer. Rather, the only thing I heard was a faint laugh coming from behind me, near the casket.

I recognized that laugh. My breath got caught in my throat, and I spun around, facing the source of the noise. There she stood, her angelic presence seemingly illuminating the room.

“What the f**k…,” I uttered, staring ahead in disbelief. It was impossible.

“I have to be hallucinating,” I muttered. Had I gone mad? I had been so wrapped up in my thoughts that I hadn’t immediately noticed myself moving towards her. I extended my arms, resting them on her shoulders. Her red freckles adorned her face, having just enough opacity to be noticeable.

She smiled, revealing her pearly white palette, whereupon her dimples appeared. It was her. She was standing before me, in the flesh. I wanted so desperately to speak, but I could only choke on my own words. She delicately placed her hand on me, the cold, smooth surface of her ring grazing my cheek. Lowering my arms to her waist, I held her against me.

When gazing into her eyes, the rest of the world simply ceased to be. All that existed was her and I at that place, at that time. Gently we swayed back and forth, like the leaves of a tree on a gusty Autumn day. Rocking forward and backward, we held each other in our arms. Her skin was warm, and I became entrapped in her aura.

My muscles relaxed and soon enough, I was no longer conscious of our movements. My body went on autopilot as we danced to the beat of our hearts, conjoined as one. I was in heaven, for my love was alive again. I closed my eyes, smiling in contentedness.

Drip

I heard a wet splash. At the same time, liquid pooled onto my hand. Its warmth juxtaposed the suddenly cold surface I felt pressed against me. My eyes sprung open. The once lively eyes of Elizabeth were now sunken and dull. Her appearance was now ghoulish, and her skin appeared to stick closely to her bones.

Looking down at my hands, I saw that they had been covered with blood. A large laceration covered the surface of her stomach, and the stench of charred flesh infiltrated my nostrils. I shoved her away from me and collapsed to the floor. I only had a split second to process what had happened before thick chunks of vomit erupted from my throat.

I wish I had not met her gaze again. Her sweet smile had transformed into a sickening grin. She dragged herself towards me, leaving a streak of blood and pus in her path. I attempted to get up and stumble away from her, but to no avail. I felt nauseous and struggled to do anything besides clumsily shuffling away. I grimaced in pain as I felt her latch onto my arm, digging her yellowish, rotten nails into my skin.

She used her momentum to lunge at me, shoving me to the ground and landing on top of me. I screamed and I fought and I clawed at her, desperate to get her off of me. Somehow, even though her body appeared rotten and broken, she overpowered me, scraping and clawing at my flesh. Then…

I felt a tug on my beige shirt. A tiny hand gripped the polyester fabric. I picked myself up from the floor and looked down at my son. He looked back up at me, a look of concern and fear on his face. A puddle of vomit and tears occupied the floor beside where I had collapsed. Did I imagine everything? No, I quickly realized that wasn’t the most important question at that time.

Had my boy witnessed what had just happened? How could I have allowed myself to appear so weak in front of him… A boy is meant to see his father as a superhero. A strong man who can persevere through anything. Not only had that persona collapsed in the hospital, but it collapsed here as well. What would he think of me?

Regret and dismay ran through my veins at that moment, but those feelings were interrupted as Sean embraced me with as much strength as his little arms could muster. I froze, and then gently reciprocated his embrace. He had seen me collapse, seen me cry, seen me at my most vulnerable. Yet, when I looked upon my son, comforting me when I needed it most, I didn’t see a child who felt disappointed in his father. All I saw was an act of compassion.

Not wanting to weep more than I already had, I let go of Sean and stood upright. He was only a child and had already suffered the loss of his mother. At such a young age, I doubted he had much understanding of the concept of death at all. But I knew for certain he missed Elizabeth, and so I knew I had to be there for him. I promised then and there, that I would be strong for Sean.

We arrived home that evening. I treated Sean to the best pot roast I could make, and was ecstatic to see he had finally regained his appetite. I tucked him into bed soon after. I brought a chair by his bed, pulling his sheets and covers over him. The lamp by his bedside shone brightly.

“You doing okay, little guy?” I inquired. He didn’t respond, of course. He hadn’t uttered as much a word since the incident. I didn’t understand why, but I didn’t want to press him on it, either. I would get him some help as soon as I could.

I grabbed his stuffed teddy bear from a nearby shelf and waved it in front of him.

“You remember how we got this? How we went to the fair last year and you played the baseball game and won Teddy?”

I had hoped bringing up this memory would elicit a response from Sean, but he simply smiled and continued to look at me. Sighing, I returned his smile and patted his head.

“When mommy and I got married, we knew we wanted a baby. Every night, we would pray to the angels that a baby boy would come, and one day, you came to us! It was the happiest day of our lives, Sean, and from that point onward, you made us the happiest parents around. Mom… won’t be around for a long time. But I promise that she’s watching you with the angels. And she’s smiling, Sean. She’s so, so proud of her beautiful baby boy. And so am I. We will always love you.”

Again, Sean’s lips never parted once. Yet I knew that he understood. He had to have understood, I just know it. I just wanted to hear his voice again.

“Goodnight, Sean,” I said, getting up to leave his room. Before I could, he reached out and grabbed my arm.

“Oh, right. Sorry, buddy,” I said, leaning over and kissing his forehead. He nodded his head in satisfaction and laid down. I turned off his lamp and closed his bedroom door.

Making my way to the bathroom, I went inside and stared into the mirror. I had kept my promise to myself, to stay strong for Sean. At least for tonight. I gripped the sink tightly, leaning over and peering into my reflection. What the hell had happened earlier? Could it have been related to the dream I had the other night? Why was I experiencing these disturbing visions?

I had never really had to deal with mental trauma in the past, so I was unfamiliar with how to process this information. If people knew about the experiences I was having, would they think I was crazy? For the first time in my life, I felt small, and out of control. I balled my hand into a fist, pounding it into the wall.

That night was a sleepless one. All I could do was look up at the ceiling. Empty thoughts occupied my mind. I couldn’t make sense of what I had experienced, so I merely dismissed them as nightmares. I’ll keep you guys updated on any future developments. I need an outlet to get my thoughts out. I don’t want to vent to my son, so I’ll type my thoughts here. Thank you for your attention, I appreciate it.

(Another Update)

I've found it hard to eat recently. Besides the pork roast I had with Sean, I haven't had much of an appetite for anything. I've lost quite a bit of weight, evident by my rapidly thinning frame. I haven't been sleeping well, either. Despite this, I've been giving my best efforts to stay strong. I truly believe Sean and I will get through this.

When Sean fell asleep during the evening I decided for the first time in a while to try driving again. I had been walking or using public transport to get from place to place, but I knew that I couldn't just avoid driving forever. We had taken Liz's car that night, so I was able to use mine. I went out to the driveway and entered my vehicle. I put the keys into the ignition, slowly turning it until I could hear the hum of the engine. Taking a deep breath, I shifted the gear into reverse and backed out of the driveway.

Deciding I would get off to a slow start, I drove through my neighborhood streets at a low speed. The car methodically made its way down the road, and I eased up a little. I was getting comfortable driving again. Mustering up a little more courage, I turned onto a public road, so I could practice driving among other vehicles again.

My hands started to tremble, so I gripped the wheel tightly. I turned on my hazard lights. I needed to pace myself and keep my cool. I applied a little more pressure to the accelerator. My body stiffened as the car picked up speed, and I responded by slowing my breathing. Doing so allowed me to loosen my body, and I pressed down on the accelerator even harder.

I lowered the windows and felt the wind blow against my face. Horns beeped all around me. The noise of chattering pedestrians and restaurant music was omnipresent. I remembered this feeling of driving down the road at night in my car. The way the breeze flowed through my hair, the way the paved roads felt underneath my tire. As I looked into my rearview mirror, I almost thought my eyes were betraying me. I was smiling. Not just a smirk, but a full-on grin. I released my grip on the wheel and simply drove.

For miles I traveled, not having a care in the world. Oh, how I missed this. This liberating feeling coated me in pure bliss. As darkness enveloped the environment, I flicked on my headlights. Peering into the night sky, I saw the millions of stars sparkling above. Momentarily pausing to appreciate the serene view, my attention was drawn to an alternative source of light ahead of me. The headlights of another vehicle rapidly approached.

I defaulted back to clutching the wheel. Those lights... They flooded my vision just as memories flooded my mind. Remembering to be calm, I once more inhaled a surplus of oxygen, letting it stir in my stomach before a prolonged exhale exited my nose. For a moment, the light covered my entire vehicle. In a split second, it was over. I observed my rearview mirror once more, watching the car travel down the road behind me. Pulling onto the shoulder, I put the car into park and leaned back into the seat. I let out an audible sigh of relief, followed by a single sentence.

"I did it."

Returning home later that night, I quietly entered my house and went to check on Sean. His door opened with a slight creak, and I made my way over to his bedside. I turned on his lamp, only to find the covers of an empty bed pulled to the side. Confused, I exited his room and called out his name. There was no response. The door had been locked when I arrived, so I knew he had to have been in the house.

I checked the kitchen and the dining room before making my way to the hallway. The walls were coated in a darkness as black as tar, except for the very end of the hall. There stood the door to my bedroom, the glow of light outlining its perimeter. I approached it, placing my hand on the doorknob and entering the room.

There sat my son on my bed. In his arms sat a picture frame that held the image of Elizabeth, standing by Sean. He stared at the image, his face as still as stone. I went over to him, sitting by his side and placing my arm over his shoulder. I noticed dark splotches on the picture frame. Placing my hand under Sean's chin, I lifted his head to face me. Red circles surrounded his watery eyes.

Using my thumb to wipe the remaining tears from his cheek, I tried to offer him the best smile I could, but his frown remained. There I sat, at a loss for words. My gaze lowered and focused on the picture in the frame. Placing my hand on his, we sat in silence and viewed the photo together. Eventually, I broke the silence, realizing just how late it was.

"Hey buddy, let's head to bed okay?"

Sean gave me a head nod and arose, traversing the corridors of the house to his room. I tucked him in, as per usual, before retreating to my bed. I picked up the picture frame and held it in my hand. Elizabeth was as beautiful as ever, and for the first time in ages, viewing her did not cause me distress or pain. Rather, I felt a sense of acceptance.

I recalled what I had told Sean, about her watching over him with the rest of the angels. Though I had said it to ease his mind, I too had begun to tell myself the same thing. That somewhere out in the universe, my Liz was watching, hoping for the best for me. I glanced at the image of Sean, standing by his mother. He had the purest grin on his face. One that could melt my heart one thousand times over. I knew he did because I remembered taking that photo. Yet, that was not how he appeared now.

In his place stood a different Sean. A Sean without the grin, without the energetic and hopeful eyes. Rather, one with deep gashes and bruises embedded into his flesh. One whose limbs appeared contorted into unnatural positions. In the blink of an eye, his happy demeanor changed into one of shock and terror. Taken aback, I dropped the photo and rushed back to Sean's room. I burst through the door, only to find him peacefully asleep in his bed. He was there, alive, in one piece. I saw him with my own two eyes.

Making my way back to my bedroom, I scooped up the picture frame and gazed upon it once more. There he stood, looking perfectly happy. Rubbing my eyes in hopes to clear my vision, I viewed the image again, hoping to confirm that what I saw was real. The photo remained unchanged, still showing Sean as the gleeful little boy I knew him to be.

I put the photo away and climbed into bed, pulling the covers over my body. Sinking my head into my pillow, I closed my eyes. Although it took a few hours, I finally drifted into a deep slumber. The following day I woke up early. Entering the kitchen for a glass of water, the sound of footsteps caught my attention. They were heading down the hallway which leads to Sean's room. Figuring Sean had woken up, I followed them down the hallway, where I saw his bedroom door ajar.

Inside, I found my boy sitting beside the Being from my dream all those nights ago. There he was in his slick grey suit. He appeared as malnourished as ever, his thin frame giving him a feeble look. His face remained blurred, so much so that I could not discern any of his features.

I watched as he extended his bony fingers towards my son, laying them atop his head. He brushed Sean's hair with his hand. Neither one of them faced me, and despite the circumstances, I did not feel fear for my safety, or Sean's. I walked toward the creature, attempting to touch it. Mere centimeters before the tips of my fingers grazed its figure, my body lunged forward, my forehead drenched in sweat. I observed my surroundings, realizing I had not yet left my bed.

I decided to put the picture frame away in my closet for the time being. The thing freaks me out, and after that dream and what I would assume was my hallucination yesterday, I can't bear to view it. Once again, I'll be sure to keep you all updated on future updates. I cannot express my gratitude enough to all of you.

Truly, thank you.

(A Final Update)

"Sean, I need you to speak to me."

I must have uttered several variations of that phrase for at least half an hour.

"Please, buddy. You can talk to me, okay? I promise you can talk to papa."

No matter how many times I repeated these words to him, he simply wouldn't answer. I desperately needed to know that he could speak. I... I needed to know that he was real.

The truth is, the constant barrage of delusions had taken a toll on my psyche. Distinguishing between what was real and what was merely a figment of my imagination had become difficult. I had to know Sean was real. I wanted to believe he was, and I would know he was real if only he would speak. Could he not see the anguish in my eyes? Why wouldn't he just utter a single word?

I gripped his shoulders tightly, begging him to even part his lips once. He never obliged my only wish. No amount of bribery or pleading could elicit a response from him. All he did was grab my arm, turn towards his room, and march towards it.

As I followed him, an overbearing sense of dread began to brew within me. I felt my heart intensely pounding in my throat as we entered the room together. There the entity sat. My head hung low as Sean released me from his grasp and trekked towards the Being ahead. I too approached it, once again attempting to touch the thing. Preparing to suddenly awake from what I had assumed was another nightmare, I placed my hand on the figure. Only, I didn't wake in my bedroom once again. Instead, it too placed its hand on me, and we felt each other's papery frames.

Slowly but surely, the details of the Being's face were revealed to me. As I looked upon it, I recognized its features, for they were my features, too. I stumbled backward, watching as the thing with my appearance leaned towards my son, gently kissing his forehead. I ogled the creature, swallowing the oceans of saliva that had built up in my mouth in a single swift gulp.

The creature locked eyes with me, and I locked eyes with it. As this occurred, a sense of familiarity washed over me. My mind darted back and forth, unsure of what to make of the situation. That is until my thoughts inexplicably settled on the memory of the accident on that fateful night. I recalled the blinding lights, the shrill cries of fear and suffering... no, there was more. The overhead traffic light, from which a soft, red hue shone in the night sky. My vehicle had passed underneath the light, and then the impact happened. The doctors...had they truly told me my son had survived?

"They say that there are some moments in our life that we’ll remember for an eternity."

It was a quote that I wrote back towards the beginning of this text. So then, why couldn't I recall the words of the doctor who told me that Sean was still alive...? Could I truly have forgotten?

I snapped back to reality, keeping eye contact with the Being before me. Only now, Sean was nowhere to be found. The sense of familiarity I felt soon dissipated and was replaced with boiling hatred. I glared at the monster, my palms balling up. I rushed towards it, tackling it to the ground. Before it could react I began pummeling it with my fists.

"You're the reason Elizabeth is gone. You're the reason Sean is gone. I'm going to kill you," I exclaimed, gritting my teeth and continuing my assault on the Being. It showed no resistance. It simply allowed me to keep striking it. Again, and again.

And again,

And again,

And again,

I had no plans on stopping. Blood flowed from the thing's face and onto my fists. With every strike, I could feel my body breaking. With every blow, I could sense the light within me begin to extinguish. Yet I had no plans on stopping. I was going to kill this man, for taking what I held dearest to me. At that point, I couldn't even see the thing. Tears had clouded my eyes, blurring my sight. I simply pounded my fists downward, hoping to murder the figure in my fit of rage.

I felt a soft tugging on my beige shirt. It was gentle, yet enough to pause my assault.

A tiny hand gripped the polyester fabric.

My arms fell to my side, and I turned my head and there he was. My boy stood by my side. I froze, my eyes widening like saucers as I witnessed his lips parting for the very first time.

"I forgive you, papa."

He smiled at me and embraced me once more. I embraced him too, feeling the stream of tears begin to erupt from my eyes. Not wishing to get my tears on his shoulder, I closed my eyes. I soon found that a second pair of arms had wrapped around me. The smooth surface of a ring pressed against my skin. I didn't let go for what felt like hours, but I knew I couldn't hold on forever.

As I opened my eyes, I found myself alone with the figure in what was once Sean's room. I stood up and approached him once more. In one swift motion, I hugged the thing, pulling it close against me. When I let go, the thing vanished from my view. It was over.

I know Sean and Elizabeth and the Angels are looking from somewhere out there, wishing the best for me. I know they would want me to forgive myself. Though doing so isn't going to be easy, I think I'll manage to do it. I fetched the picture frame from the closet and placed it back on my bedside. There stood Sean and Liz, standing beside each other with grins on their faces. In the reflection of the frame, I could see my face besides theirs. I smiled with them for one final time.

They may not be with me on this Earth, but I know that they're with me in my heart and mind. Thank you all for reading my account. I think I'm going to be okay from this point forward. Don't expect any more updates from me. I have the feeling that I should move on. It was a pleasure writing to you all.

What we encountered from that island, we thought it was all talk and no show, But after what went down it was definitely no bullshit. It will be told by my team and I, which I consider them brothas will introduce themselves later on in the story. We will be using our codenames, whether you believe us or not we know what we saw and it will stick to us till our dying day.

I will be known as “Fives” throughout in the story, I was part of the arm forces and I am a big fan of the Clone Wars of course, I am what you would call a Bounty Hunter, I have done jobs that don’t necessarily have killing in them but it has involve reconing and breaking bones and turning them in for the money, I have limits to it but the pay is very well and it pays the bills. Of all the jobs I’ve done in the past this next one got me questioning, why do I accept this job in the first place? The employer for this job contacted me through my business email and said that he had a job for me and will like to talk in person. At first I wasn’t too sure about that but I still kept my guard cautiously I agreed on meeting the employer in a specific location, we met and sat, talking business about the job. while we met I asked him, ”how did you get my info?“, “I got your contact from one of the employers you’ve done in the past with” he replied. “Very well, before we continue what name shall I call you?” I asked him. “For now call me Trench”. I agreed and as the waitress brought us our drinks, Trench had whiskey and I had a soda, “Now the job I have for you is one of the most classified ones that others have declined to do and what if you had the courage to do so“ Trench said. “Well that depends what does it imply to” I said, “ Well I’m sure you have been to a place called Disney World yes?” Trench asked, “ I have, but I just never had the time or pleasure to go over there“ I replied. (Now hearing the name Disney World got me thinking why does this job have to do with Disney World, does he want me to spy on someone?, kidnap someone of higher power?, or maybe just maybe, find the frozen body of Walt Disney, it had to be that because he did say it was classified that others have turned down this type of job so it’s got to be that, but boy was I wrong. “ So what does this job have to do with Disney World?” I asked. “ I will tell you that is if you accept this job, all I’m telling you now is that the job is real and the money is real so do you accept?” He asked, “ How much are we talking about“ I asked, “Like I said only if you accept this job” Trench said. I sighed, “very well I accept the job” I said.”Excellent, now This job is about I’m pretty sure you’ve heard about is Discovery Island“ Trench said. I choked on my Coke when he mentioned that  name, “Discovery Island?” I said shocked.(of course I’ve heard rumors and stories about the place and was a bit skeptical with it with all the urban legends, crocodiles roaming the island, the tale of one guy who got ripped to pieces by mutated monkeys, not to mention that’s being haunted by all Disney costumes. “Exactly what job does going to Discovery Island have to do with any of it?” I asked. “Well you see A while back a group of teens went missing, they were scheduled to do a meet and greet because they are a popular group on YouTube they were last seen in Disney World in the daytime, since then they haven’t returned to the hotel they were staying at and their manager was supposedly with them, but not close enough apparently” Trench said. “What about the parents?” I asked. “Apparently they were taking a while to get ready so the manager just took them without waiting for their parents he was the impatient kind“. I’ve heard that one before, “but what about the police didn’t they get involved?” I asked. “They did but apparently they didn’t want to make a big deal out of everything to make other kids get worried since it is called the happiest place on earth they are trying to keep it in the down low, Even so they still check the entire park, they came back with nothing, however a friend of mine said that he saw a group of kids being put on a boat not too long ago and taken to the island by a hooded figure, he already tried going to the police with this as a witness telling his story,  the police went to go search on the island but they came back with nothing, He insisted they go back and double or triple check if they have to he knows what he say he told them he’s not crazy, but the police kept telling him that they found nothing they’ll still put it in under investigation but if he keeps pushing it they will arrest him” Trench said.“ OK so your friend believes that these teens might still be alive on the island and are being kept hidden secret, am I hearing that correctly?” I asked him. “ Yes, and of course when I mentioned the island to others before you, their face turned pale and they declined it, now I am giving you this job,however, this job cannot be done alone you need six men to accomplish this job, and your one of the six so you’ll need five more“ Trench said. “Understood, and I believe I may know the five other men will accept his job“ I said. As I said this he then showed me a bag he was caring full of the money that he said. “How what did you say this job was for again?” I asked. “Enough for you need to know and for your little friends, however, if you don’t succeed this job, you and your “brothas”as you called them can kiss this money goodbye and I’ll find others to do this work“ Trench said, making that statement clear. After hearing that now I know we definitely need to succeed on this mission of course we do need the money, He did give me a vanilla folder containing the map of the island which you cant get very far on Google and scroll around, I should know because I gave it a try on my laptop and gave it a virus, $400 down the drain, anyways it also contained the missing teens with their names, and full description of how they look like, it’s a total of 8 teens, 5 girls and 3 boys. (I won’t say the full names but I will say the letter of their first names in the story), “ I will contact you when the job is done“ I said to Trench. “Excellent, I will be waiting” he replied, as he got up,paid for his drink, and walked out through the door, so did I thanking the waitress. The first brother I contacted is who we call “Wrecker”, when it comes to his temper rising it is best not to be on his bad side, overall he Is one tough SOB, Next on the list we call “Cutup” he is a joker at times but when it comes to getting the job done he will always be the one to count on. Next brotha is “Bullseye” he was in the arm forces along with me, We always get sharpshooter qualifications we were close in there and still are in the civilian world. Next was “Eagleye” he really knows about tech. He’s specialty is hacking but for good reasons for, and especially making equipment in a flash so we’ll definitely need him for this type of job, Last but not least “Blackheart” he at times can be coldhearted and seem not to care to hurt people when it comes to the brotherhood you trust each and everyone of us no questions asked so he’s loyal. No I called them up to gather for this announcement I’m about to tell them which is really about this job so I will update when the boys are done introducing themselves.

 This is “Wrecker”, I believe Fives told you how we came to be in this position, *sigh*, well he isn’t wrong when he said we needed cash because we all do need it. “Fives” did indeed inform us about the job the employer told him, we were at first resistant about it because of course we all know about the history of that godforsaken island, and he did make some valid points about our situation, yes it wasn’t our best option but we were running out of them, we do need the cash, the teens?, *sigh*, no offense but I did think that they possibly are dead, because it’s pretty much common sense that they pretty much are dead but nevertheless we did decided to do this job, it’s gonna be one hell of a ride for sure. I especially told my fiancé about this job, yes she did get upset about it after I explained everything to her, she already tried to persuade me not to do it and they look at other options but to be honest there really isn’t any more options, we did go back-and-forth about this and yes she knew we were struggling and we do need to take risks at times, she eventually agreed, I’m getting my stuff ready for this type of job, talk to you later.

 I’m “Cutup” of course Fives told you who I am, The job is risky no doubt about it, no one in their right mind would go to that godforsaken place, I sure as hell know I wouldn’t, and yet here I am the type of guy who doesn’t follow much of the rules, but money is money can’t say no to that, I live with my best pal Scar he is a Great Dane, and I wouldn’t trade him for anything in the world, this money Fives mentioned would definitely help us get through, of all the decisions I’ve made in the past, I’m just hoping I chose the right one with this one, as for the teens, I hope we find them very soon otherwise all this work were doing will all be for nothing. *Sigh*, I better get started on packing, I’m going to turn on a little music, I’m sure everyone has heard of “Hypnotize” by System Of A Down hehe I’m gonna pack, peace.

 “Bullseye” here, I still can’t believe we’re doing this type of job, i’m sure you already heard this already, we all need the money, in case Fives hasn’t explain this already, I am one hell of a sharpshooter, him and I both are, top of our class, have that close brotherly bond back in the Armed Forces, not to mention him and I pick a bone with each other when it comes to hand to hand combat Hehehe. All jokes aside this type of job it’s gonna take more brains than bullets that’s for sure, Especially when there’s teens involved being held hostage sure hope those kids are still alive we’re going to come in lock and loaded, we’re going to chew gum and kick ass, and I’m all out of gum.

“Eagleye” here, yes I knew you all were coming, I saw you coming from a mile away, that’s my job ain’t it?, anyways yes Fives has explained everything to us, and I’ll be watching my bros from a Birdseye view, and I am creating some new gadgets for this type of job which will be helpful and I can make these in a flash, and at the same time I am packing, sure hope we find those teens, and that we all come out of there all in one piece from that Island, gotta pack talk to y’all later, See ya.

“Blackheart”, I really don’t have much to say, and I just want to get this job done, get the cash and go, the teens?, What do you want me to say about them?, they could be dead for all we know, if their dead, they’re dead, I’ll drag their dead carcass out of there if I have too, I love my brothers no question ask about that what is it going to be insane going to the Island, I’m done talking, I gotta pack.

Now that everyone is done introducing themselves we can continue on, as the sun was barely rising for the new day to begin, I got all my gear and equipment inside the van, yes it’s a van, because at least no one will suspect six guys in a van right?, hahaha a little humor for the road. I double checked everything was locked from my house, then I was off to get the boys, then heading off to the airport to Florida. As I picked up “Blackheart” who was our last guy to get in since he lived a bit closer to the airport, “ I’m a bit surprised that none of you actually back down from this type of job“ I said to everyone, “ Come on Fives we all know the reason why we’re doing this” Wrecker said. “ Yeah true“ I said. I then explained to everyone to each of us is getting a teen to protect and get out alive, and some of us are getting an extra kid since Eagleye is going to be watching us with a birds-eye view. Wrecker started giving out each man the bio of the teen they are assigned to, I also did mention that I will be only telling the first letter of the kids name from the beginning, now there is a total of eight kids. Wrecker was taking charge of a 13-year-old girl named “K”, she is 5’4 brown hair, with brown eyes, and, a 13 year old boy named “E”, he is 5’2, as well brown eyes, and brown hair, apparently their brother and sister, terrific. Next, Cutup was in charge of an 13 year old girl named “E”, apparently she is from the UK, nice, anyways she is 5’5, brunette, with gray eyes, and, a 12 year old boy named “M”, he is 5’3, light brown hair, with blue eyes. Bullseye was in charge of a 12-year-old girl named “S”, says she is a dancer, she’s 5’3, blonde, and has light green eyes. Lastly, I took charged of two kids as well, one was a 13 year old boy “N”, he is 5’4, has black hair with brown eyes, next was a 12 year old girl named “B”, she is 5’3, has light brown hair, with light green eyes, and has a red mark on top of her right eyebrow, it looked kind of cool, but I didn’t have time to figure out what it was. So now everyone has their assigned teen, now we just arrived to the airport, got passed security, and wait for our flight. As we were waiting for our plane to board I received a call from an “unknown” number, I answered, “hello it’s Trench, just calling to know if there was any complications” he said, “Hello Trench, we are waiting for our flight to board” I replied. “Very good, I’m also informing you that my friend in Florida is waiting for your arrival, he will lead you to your designated stay in for your trip and also is confirming the wear abouts  of the teens family, they haven’t left Florida since the day they went missing, along with the manager” Trench Said. “Alright, what is the name of your friend so we can get a confirmation?” I asked. “He goes by Harvey, he will help you as much as he can with your work“ Trench said. “Very good, we will contact you when we have arrived to our pinpoint” I said. “Excellent, good luck” Trench replied as he hung up, perfect timing to because our plane was boarding,this was one hell of a flight.

We had arrived at Florida, we met up with Harvey, he was friendly, he was around mid 30s, he helped us with our bags to an unmarked van, then escorted us to the hotel we were staying at, he then started explaining the situation about the job we got which we already knew, but he then told us about the situation with the cops, again we knew, and finally he gave us the location to where the parents of the teens were staying at, which we will pay a visit to soon. We had arrived to the hotel we were staying at, as we settled into our rooms, each of us split up to 8 groups of 2 and I got roomed with Wrecker, as soon we settled the others came to our room so we can plan out our next moves for the next 2 days. It was already 2000 (in case you don’t know what that means, that means 8pm in military time) we thought it was the time for us to pay a visit to the family of the missing teens, I asked everyone to see if they are down with the plan, they agreed, but as soon we were about to leave, “Wait Fives we can’t simply just walk right up to them and say, oh hey there we are mercenaries who were hired to find your kids who we believe are on the abandoned island that’s just across from Disney World” Wrecker said, everyone else agreed on that, “ I know that’s why I made these for each and everyone of us” I said, taking out on of my bags, unzipped it, and pulled out 8 ghost phantom balaclava masks, everyone was so surprised on how the detail on the mask looked. We hid them in our pockets and we dressed all in black, we especially Put black gloves on our hands for no finger scanning recognition. We called Harvey to come get us, and to take us to the location of the parents. We arrived to the motel apparently, we told Harvey to go around back to not make it look suspicious. We all put our masks on and we saw one of the parents Harvey described to us, and they were in the 1st floor, good thing to, We got to the front door and knocked, of course we covered the peep hole, by some luck the didn’t put the latch on the door so that makes our job a bit easier, a lady opened it and we burst it and of course we pulled out our side arms and I told them not to squeal and no one will be hurt, now from the total amount of people, minus us, in the room there were a total of 10 people in there, 8 moms, a sibling to one of the missing teens, and their manager . “Who are you guys?” one of the moms asked me “we are known as GHOSTS, a small ruthless team that isn’t afraid to get our hands dirty, unlike certain people who we call snowflakes”. “What are you doing here and how did you find us?”, one of the other moms asked. “We were hired to find your kids, we have a resource who believes they know where exactly your kids may be” Wrecker replied. “Where?, Where are they?, who is your resource?, who hired you for this?, we have to go to the police, we’ve been searching for them for the past 4 weeks!!” they keep whinnying and complaining But I told them to shut up. “all we can tell you is that we will find your kids that’s all you need to know” I said. “ we’re calling the police” one of the moms said. “Go ahead we ain’t scared of no popo, call them I dare you, I DARE YOU!!” Blackheart said, Wrecker told him to calm down, and I told them you can try but we will be long gone when they get here. As the parents huddled to talk things over along with the manager, we just slipped out of there like ghosts. We got to the van where Harvey was waiting for us and sped off. Heading back to the hotel, went into our rooms and rested up for the next day to to recon the island with the drone that Eagleye made himself I will tell more but for now I need some rest, I will tell more once I have my sleep.

As the sun rose for the day,the others have gathered to me and wreckers room to see what Eagleye has said about using his homemade drone to do recon, as he showed us it it was actually the size of your palm and had a small camera attached to it. But the controller had a big screen to it, what it sees, we see in good HD mode, “impressive” I said to Eagleye, “thanks now let’s get to reconing” he said. As he was setting  up the drone to fly I took out the map of the Island Trench gave me and was ready to pin point where the drone will enter, and in case if the drone doesn’t make it back we got the map as back up. As Eagleye send off the drone to fly It took off away from us, and we can barely even see it but from the controller we saw it looking at us, and taking off to the skies. We saw it passing the park, which then Cutup brings up that he did alittle research on Disney World and there will be an event happening in the park tomorrow night, now that probably will give us an advantage if things go well to plan. Eagleye then circles the perimeter to see what opening we can slip to to enter the island without being detected,we then found one which should have good cover, I pinned where it is at, we then continued to the Island.As we circled the outside of the island we saw something moving fast in the tree lines We tried to see what it was but it disappeared, we couldn’t see it anymore  so we continued on. Eagleye then moved the drone into the Island, it was A bit freaky inside of it I’m not gonna lie, a lot of trees and grass growing on the rides that was once a happy place for kids, and cages that once belonged to animals, but now it’s been taken over by nature.we then heard a weird noise Eagleye turned the drone to looked up and down and all around but didn’t see anything, we thought it was a bird or something, after all there are animals wondering over there. We looked everywhere to see if the kids were still alive somewhere but we didn’t find a trace of them, we then possibly came to the conclusion that they might be dead after all, and this trip was probably all for nothing, I then turned to see the disappointed faces on everyone thinking the money we were suppose to get if this mission was gonna succeed, but now we felt like we failed and are now going back to square one, as we were about to tell Eagleye to pull back off the island he then said “Wait, guys I see a rusted metal door, we didn’t see that before”, we looked and and we told him to get closer, our hearts were beating fast figuring that there might be hope, until you know it, we heard crying and someone calling for help from inside the metal door, we all were shocked to here someone else from the Island, I asked Eagleye “does your drone have a mic so we can talk to them?”, “Yes” he replied, “then press it hurry“, I exclaimed at him, “hello is anyone there?” I asked, “Yes, who’s out there?, please help us, we’re trapped down here!” “Hold on, how many people are down there with you?”, i asked them, “theres 9 of us down here, please just get us out of here!” they said. (9 of them?), I thought while looking at the others, (we got the job for only 8, who the hell is the 9th one?) I thought but as soon I was gonna reply, the drone was knocked out of the sky, and we heard was like a growl but like part a machine, it’s hard to describe it you had to be there to know what I’m talking about, we couldn’t see what brought it down but whatever brought it down it crushed the drone and the feed went off. We were all shocked to know there really are people trapped on the Island. “what the hell just happened?!” Blackheart said, “What the hell” said Wrecker, “Cutup and Bullseye were both sitting there with eyes wide open as if they saw a ghost, (ironically since we were a ghost squadron hehehe), anyways Eagleye was speechless, as for me I was trying to gather my thoughts, that the rumors and stories might possibly be true. “Wait Eagleye, doesn’t your drone have a tracker on it?” I asked him, “yes, but I just hope whatever crushed it didn’t take it” he said. Okay well at least we have the pinpoint of where to go to on the map, and we can track the drone is, we find the drone tracker, we find the metal rusted door where we heard the cries for help.  Now since we got the pinpoint on where to start to the Island, I gave them a quick huddle for what awaits us, “We all know what’s gonna go down, and we don’t know if we will survive tomorrow night but we got ourselves into this, we had a chance to back out, but we didn’t, now we face whatever lurks in that god forsaken Island, get those kids out of there and get them back to their folks, and get our reward money, this is now Operation: Urban Nightmare”.

The night was upon us, It was now time of the assault, Harvey took us halfway to the pinpoint location of where the drone spotted for us. Harvey parked the van a bit out of site,  “good lucks I’ll be praying for y’all” Harvey said, we nodded to him as a thank you, we  then had to stick to the shadows to get to the pinpoint, we made to the location in the shadows without being spotted, I’m surprised no one even saw us, then again Cutup did say there was an event happening at the park, so security wouldn’t bother with us in the mean time. As we hid in the shadows we loaded up our gear up, tatical vests on, loaded our M4’s with ammo, put on our elbow and knee pads, black war paint around our eyes, and finally our our balaclava ghost masks.  Also Eagleye then showed us he took he’s great grandfathers RHIB (The Rigid Hull Inflatable Boat) his great grandfather was a Navy SEAL, but he told us that his grandfather called it “Zodiac” I gotta hand it to him, he definitely pulls through and impress us all. Before we started to commence Operation: Urban Nightmare, we said a prayer to make sure we all make it through in one peace. “Beloved Lord, we come before your throne of grace asking you to protect us for what we are about to face in The valley of the shadow of death, strengthen us with your power and minister to our spirits, no evil shall prosper upon us for we will overcome them, and to protect those who are in need to be brought safe back to their families, and to guide us back home as well, Amen”. Now the prays are said and done, Eagleye got he’s laptop set up and got his other drone he packed up in case the other one got destroyed, now Operation: Urban Nightmare  has commenced. As we rode on the ZODIAC to the depths of the water, we scanned each side making sure no one spotted us during the 2 mile drive to the Island. As we arrived to the shore lines to the Island, we then ran to the tree lines to get accountability of our equipment making sure we didn’t loose any of our gear, and making sure the Zodiac was out of sight. as we are doing this we then heard a loud boom, we thought someone spotted us already and started firing, but it just turned out to be the firework show, that scared the shit out of us. None of us lost a part of our gear, Eagleye then got coms check on everybody, we all were set, phase 1 was complete now Eagleye was gonna scout the perimeter to make sure we’re in the clear while the rest of us got the track for the destroyed drone, we got the point, now we stayed in a straight line formation still clipped to each other, now we were on the move.

As we moved through the depths of the jungle we kept our lights On low so at least we can still see but they won’t see us. We scanned all the surrounding areas and we we surprised on how much nature has truly took over the place, as we kept moving we then noticed lights up ahead of us, I told everyone to hold their position, get low on the ground, and pulled security on all sides. Wrecker came up to me to see what I’m seeing, “The hell, I thought this place was abandoned”, Wrecker said Whispering to me, “I thought so to” I whispered back. “Eagleye this is Fives do you read me?” I said to the com link, “Fives this is Eagleye go ahead”, he responded back, “we spotted lights working on the island, I can’t make out how exactly it’s even possible” I said on the com link. “Alright stand by, I’ll see how it’s possible” Eagleye said, “roger” I replied. 5 mins went by, “Fives, as it turns out the Disney corporations still carry energy to the island, checking it from time to time to see if they can make it more profitable to views while they are being distracted by the park, In other words they’re gonna see if they can relaunch the island for the people and their kids”, Eagleye said. Oh shit I thought to myself, that explains why they lied about the pollution in the water, so while they guests leave, they come to the island to see if can still be operational without drawing the crowd, but my question still is (why do they tend to steal kids here so they won’t be found, if they plan to reopen it again?), it doesn’t make sense but as I kept thinking about that, we heard a brach crack, and that surprised us. We got our rifles aimed to were the noise came from, we saw the branches move, “Eagleye, we hear movement on our 12 and we can’t see shit from here we are holding position can you see what it is?” I said on the com link, “yeah hold on  heading to your location” Eagleye replied, “oh I’m ready to blast it’s head off” Bullseye said, “hold on, Eagleye is gonna see what it is first” I said to bullseye, we saw the time drone above us, ”I’m gonna use heat seeker to see what is ahead of you guys, alright I see something, it appears to be only one, it’s moving towards you, get ready!” he said exclamating. We got up, getting into firing position, with our heart beats racing we were about to see what lurks in the darkness, then to our surprise it was a small monkey. We sighed heavily “false alarm Eagleye, it was just a small monkey”, I said with calmness now. “Hehehe all of you got scared of a little small monkey, watch out it might kill us with it’s cuteness “ Cutup saying as if he didn’t get scared as well, “Shut up Cutup don’t act like you were about to shit your pants” Blackheart told him, “Alright guys let’s keep moving ahead” I said to them, we then headed toward the light that’s hanging from above shining toward the abandoned cages of were the animals were once keeped, we had to go through them since that’s where the drone went to showing in the tracker, as we were passing through the abandoned cages I then heard a crunching sound, We looked down and what we saw made our eyes go wide, what we saw lying next to my feet was, a pile is slime that had a wierd color to it like a grayesh green, and next to it was a worn out torn old costume piece, like it belonged to a head since it was like in the shape of a circle, but what really caught out attention was the bottom piece of a jaw. It looked really old because it had a brownish color All over it, “Jesus Christ, that’s fucked up, Bullseye said, “Damn and I thought I’ve seen it all” Blackheart said, “Whatever did this and left it here, it wasn’t human” I said. Alright let’s keep moving, the tracker says the drone is close by, so we left the pieces there and we continued on through. We continued along the trail with tracker on my arm, my brothas watching our surroundings, with the firework show seizing up, hearing the crowds cheering for the end, I assumed this is where everyone is getting ready to either go home or heading back to their hotels.(damn, now that the crowds leaving, that means the skeleton crew and security are now about to commence cleaning up the park) I thought to myself, “ alright ghosts listen up, the shows now over, the people are possibly now heading  back home or to the hotels, which means now the clean up crew and security are now the only ones in the park, now they will be watching over everything, especially a close eye on the Island, we gotta move fast, and make sure we make it as smooth as we can”, I told the boys, everyone agreed and we still kept moving. We got closer and closer to the point on where the drone was, we found it, it definitely was destroyed but the tracker was still intacted. We then we looked slightly to our right, we saw the metal rusted door, I wasn’t going to call out to those locked in there because whoever was in there they definitely weren’t gonna stay quiet. We got to the door, it was sealed tight, the others pulled security while Wrecker and I retired to open the door without making to much noise. We got it open barley but it was enough for all of us the enter, one by one everyone entered, Blackheart was the last one to enter, I closed the door as it was so there wouldn’t be anything suspicious. We then started headed down steps to a lower floor, we then saw what looked like abandoned cages for something big, however the inside of the cages looked liked someone was in them recently with newer items, we then heard crying in the distance, we slowly made our way farther down the hallway, “hello is anyone there?”, they asked, “shh, keep your voices down” I said to one of them, as we looked further we saw 8 teens looking surprised and happy with tears streaming down their eyes, we told them to hush with our index finger to our lips. “It’s gonna be okay guys, we’re the GHOSTS we were send to find you and bring you back to your folks”, I told them, “are you guys military?”, one of them asked, “not exactly” I replied.”Ghosts, check to see if they are the kids from the pics” I said as we all got out the pictures of the teens we were assigned, it’s confirmed, they were the teens that went missing.

We were glad we found the 8 missing teens, however we looked at this 9th person who wasn’t on our list, I asked who they were, they told us their name, but for this story we will call her “O”, she was about 27 years old, she had a soft voice like if your having a bad day, her voice will cheer you up in seconds, and not gonna lie she is very beautiful even if she’s got mud and dirt on her, I told the ghosts to check on the teens make sure they are good and to check if they have any scratches on them, I kept talking to O, “What the hell are you doing in this god forsaken Island?” I asked her. “I was brought here” she said, I looked at her clothes, and she was wearing clothes that was Disney all over it, “you work at Disney?”, I asked her, “yes, I was part of the cleaning crew to clean up the messes these people make, that are to fucking lazy to throw in the trash, I was assigned to do the arena of toontown with a friend of mine, but then I heard other co workers who weren’t assigned that area talking about teens that went missing, and there were rumors that they were taken to this Island, I didn’t believe it at first, but I checked the internet if the teens went missing were true, and it was, a few days later I was again put in toontown arena and I heard people talking saying that the teens won’t escape from the Island, and I even heard one of them say “ya those mutant freaks will deal with them soon, it will be like they never even exist” and stupid of me I gasped loud and they heard me, I tried to run for it but the caught me, and I blacked out, and I found myself in this cage along with these teens”, she said. “How long have you been here for?” I asked, but as she was about to answer, we heard the metal door swing open loudly, we looked into the dark hallway and we heard what sounded like growls and weird breathing noises, “Ghosts, vanish!, don’t worry we are not going to leave any of you here, keep quiet and pretend you don’t see any of us” I whispered to everyone as we hid in the shadows, I told the ghosts not to shoot, as we waited to see what has been kept a secret for all these years. What we saw I kid you not, it was like seeing a nightmare come to life, we saw a worn torn Mickey, and behind him was Donald, and Goofy, but nightmare versions of them, these things looked like the costumes were real and we saw their razor sharp teeth’s , saliva coming down from their mouths, and they  had glowing red eyes, I can feel my heart beat racing faster, hoping they don’t find us and take the teens and O with them. They were staring at them as if they were doing a routine check to see if they were hiding anything, and the teens kept quiet and made it look convincing like they never saw us, the monsters turned around, made some growling noises with one another, but as they were making noises, I saw from above them Bullseye was almost slipping and I was shocked and motioned him not to move, he was trying he’s best, fortunately the monsters left and he sighed quietly and grabbed on to a metal pipe and quietly came down, we all emerged from out hiding spots, and we tried to get the locks out of everyone’s cages, we succeeded, now phase 2 grab and go is done, we then saw a back door but we are not going through it, I lead everyone down the dark hallway and up the stairs quietly, and we were at the door, and I had an idea for the back door we just saw, “Wrecker take everyone to the front and hide in the shadows I’m gonna open the back door”,I said, “What?,Why?” he asked, “just do it I’ll meet up with you later!” I whispered to him as I went back. I went back down to where the cages were, and I opened the back door to make it look like we left through the back but we really left through the front. I made it out to the front, closed it as it was then I heard Wrecker whispered out and I saw everyone crouching in the shadows, “Fives what the hell we’re you doing?!”, wrecker asked, “I opened the back door where the cages were to trick them to think we left through the back when we really didn’t” I told him. “Eagleye we got the packages, scout is our way to the ZODIAC so we can get the hell outta here”, I told in the link, “Roger Fives, I’m here let’s go” Eagleye replied. I looked at teens and O “alright guys, we’re getting you all outta here, let’s escape this dump” I said, seeing they’re eyes cry for joy knowing they’re gonna escape the nightmares they’ve endured. “Ghost diamond formation, O you, and the teens stay in the center, if we’re firing on all sides, protect the teens that’s your priority do you understand?” I asked her, she nodded yes, alright here we go.

We followed Eagleye’s drone as we went into diamond formation, I was the front, Wrecker was on my 3, Bullseye on my 9, Cutup and Blackheart our 6, and O and the teens were in the middle, O was watching the teens and trying to lift they’re spirits up, I heard B, the one with the red mark on her right eyebrow, telling her that her voice sounds like an angel send down to protect us, I can sense that this kids were scared as hell, I can’t blame them I kind of felt the same way as well after seeing what’s been lurking around here for god knows how long. I was gonna say something to her but Eagleye stopped us on our tracks, “Guys freeze i got movement up ahead 3 heat signatures...quick hide!” He said over the link, we all hid in the bushes. We saw those mutated monsters walking by, not making a sound, as we couldn’t see them, I knew where they were headed for, now we knew we gotta hurry. we got up back into formation we kept moving as the drone was leading us back, “RAAAAAAAAAWRRRRRGGGGGHHH” we heard from the distance behind us  as we heard that we heard Eagleye “guys I got heat signatures coming from every direct in your position and there are a lot of them!”, (Oh shit now were definitely gonna start hell on the Island) I thought, “Ghost fire positions!” I shouted, getting our weapons secured, staying in diamond formation, locked and loaded, doing the sign of the cross, I told O to watch the teens and to cover their ears for hell is about to be unleashed. We then hear movement in the trees, as I looked back at my team knowing it might be the last time we see each other’s eyes before we might god forbid die, we then heard Eagleye saying in the link “ guys they’re getting closer, 400,300,200, they’re right on top of you!!” He said shouting, and what we saw, was the stuff of nightmares, we saw what might have been big mutated baboons cause of their sharp teeth’s and sharp claws starring at us, (but at that moment I hade One of my favorite song being played on my head which was Crashed by Chris Daughtry on the part where they hit the “Then I crashed into you”, I don’t know why it was played at that moment but it was), “GIVE THEM HELL!!” I shouted  as they were coming down to kill us, all of hell broke loose as the sounds of our rifles shooting rapidly and seeing the bullets fly into the skies, seeing each body of them mutant monsters falling to their deaths and hearing my brothers shout as we stood our ground, I can also hear the teens and O screaming as we did our work. One by one they were still coming, as the sky blew with red blood hitting us as their guts spat out of them, they all dropped dead as fast as they came, the night grew silent again with the noises of crickets singing, the smoke on our rifles steamed out of the muzzle, we knew no one can penetrate us. “Reload!”, I said to my brothas as we try to do as fast as we can before we get ambushed, Eagleye then said at the links, “DAMN guys I recorded all of that, that was one hell of a firefight!”, “No time to celebrate yet we head back to the zodiac and get off this nightmare” I said on the link. We were reloaded and ready, “Alright ghosts, now we gotta hull ass, diamond formation, and let’s get the hell outta here” I checked on O and the teens, they looked scared but they were alive, “RAAAAWWWWGGGGHH”, we heard the roar again, but this time it was closer, “haul ass now!” I said as we ran as fast as everyone could run, but then a thought hit me again, (Damn, what if they found the ZODIAC, damn if that’s the case we are in some serious trouble now),  as we saw the shore line I then heard Cutup and Blackheart yell out “Oh Shit!!” I turned to see what it was, and those damn mutant creatures was on our ass, we saw Donald and Goofy, and no sign of mutant Mickey anywhere, I told the O and the teens to hide, all of us held our position and fired at mutant Donald and mutant Goofy, and they kept coming but slow and slow they fell and choked from all of the bullets they ate. “*sigh* at least they’re down, now let’s get the hell outta here” we gathered the group and headed to the shore, “Yes, it’s still here” I said, looking at the ZODIAC still intacted. “Eagleye we’re loading the teens on the zodiac and us along with it, everyone is loaded on”, as we are about to turn the zodiac on “RAAAAAWWWRRGGGHH”, my spine  just skyrocketed, we saw mutated Mickey running right at us with high speed “hurry up!, hurry up!, get this thing started!” I said to Cutup trying to ignite the ZODIAC, while we pushed it to the ocean while Cutup was igniting it, but in the moment of cliché came about as it started up, mutated Mickey came outta nowhere and grabbed my leg as I was about to jump on and threw me back to shore, “FIVES!!”, “FIVES!!” I heard my brothas shouting as they zoomed away from the Island, I got up and stood face to face with this monstrosity, “GO, GET OUTTA HERE, JUST GO!!”, getting out my Kbar knife getting ready to strike at it, and mutant Mickey showing it’s sharp claws, the last stand were it came to be the “only one of us will walk out of here alive” moment. (And again I heard the Crashed song by Chris Daughtry, why I don’t know I just heard it again).

We ran towards each other (with the start of “Then I crashed into you part” playing) we scratched and clawed with all we got, I felt a bite mark on my arm, but I had my arm guard on so it’s bite didn’t penetrate through my armor, we let go of each other, I heard Eagleye over the link, “Fives run to the jungle, and we’ll come back for you!”Wrecker said, “No, just get the hostages to safety, Ive gotta end this before anyone else falls victims to these monsters!” I yelled in the link, “Fives!!”,Wrecker yelled, I turned off my com link, and mutant Mickey stood our ground again, the strikes came yet again, unfortunately it had the upper hand, he managed to scar my face, on my left side, i shrieked in pain and I know that mutant freak stopped to see me in pain, and it enjoyed seeing me panting hard to ease my pain, it stood 15 feet away from me smiling wile licking its lips, but I don’t go down easily as we were about to strike again I felt something in my pocket, I took it out, I hade one bullet left, it was for my 9mm pistol, that I used while shooting Donald and Goofy heading towards us, I guess I might have forgotten I hade an extra in my pocket which was perfect. As I strategized on how to load it without it noticing, I hade the mag case on my right side of my chest amor, and my 9Mm pistol on my left leg side, as mutant Mickey was getting ready to charge again for the third time, little did he know , this will be it’s last, we once again ran to each other, it tried swinging it’s left claw to cut me, I ducked, then it tried gutting me with its right claws, I rolled under its left arm loaded the mag with the last bullet to the pistol, mutant Mickey turned to face what he thought it was my face but it wasn’t,He was looking at the muzzle of my pistol, “Hasta al fuego Mother-“, BANG!!

Mutant Mickey...finally... went down, I looked over it’s lifeless body seeing it’s red cold heartless eyes, it knows what stands before and above it, was the person who have fought and defeated it in battle, which no other man has done before in history, and was the one who un throned who was proclaimed Prince of “the most happiest place on earth”. breathing in and out knowing it’s finally over, just when a bright light was hitting me and heard over a loud speaker “stay right where you are, get down on the floor and put your hands over your head”, , (Sure when hell freezes over) I thought in my head, I took off into the jungle, to get a head start, I soon started to hear the what I assumed was the police and not Disney security (which those fools can’t arrest anyone for shit). I took off pretty far but I also heard dogs on my trail, but I cut them off By leaving my scent farther to the jungle, then I went to the short side of the shore, my plan was to grab one of the boats That they left unsecured and get my ass out of there without them noticing, and with luck there wasn’t anyone there, “rookie mistake coppas” I said to myself jokingly, I turned on the engine, as I was about to sped off I saw one of them yell out “hold it right there, FREEZE!”. “Go arrest somebody who you can REALLY catch mall cop”, I said to him while I sped off out of that hell hole, and I heard shots firing in the shore line aiming for my ass, but I was far gone and at a good far distance where they can’t get a good aim I thought, until I heard their boats on my ass yet again, but to my surprise, I saw Harvey driving the van signaling to move down more, I knotted and stirred right and and so did the rest of the cops following me, I then saw the side door open, and I saw my brothas and the hostages telling me to get closer and to get ready to jump. (WHAT?!) I thought there’s no way I’m jumping that’s suicide I thought, then come to think of it, I literally just fought a mutated rodent and took a scar to the face so I shouldn’t be talking, as I got a bit closer to the van, I started praying hoping I made it, and by some miracle if I do make it, I promised I’ll go to church every Sunday, I jumped with the leap of faith.... I barely made it but my brothas grabbed me and pulled me in, “you SOB you had all of us worried, you could’ve been killed!” Wrecker scolding me about my actions, “hey I’m here and alive aren’t I” I said calmly and jokingly, but everyone gave me a huge hug knowing we made it out alive, then they all looked at my face where mutant Mickey left on me, “damn Fives that thing did a number in you didn’t he?”, Eagleye said, “you don’t know the half of it” I replied  and O saw my face and she kissed me on my  cheek “Thank you, for rescuing us”, she said with her angelic voice as B put it. “It’s what we do” I told her, (well we all know why we did rescue them *shhh*).

We then finally returned the teens to their folks, as we looked at a far distance, the reaction of the parents face was one of the best reaction we’ve seen, “Alright Harvey, let’s go”, I said as we needed to drop off O to her family as well. We reached the destination and we dropped her off, “Fives, I believe it is, can I see your face, so I can remember who was my knight in shining armor?”, she asked, “I wish I could, but it’s our way so no one can recognize us”, I said. “please, I promise I won’t tell anyone” as she said that with her eyes doing the puppy eye thing, (I don’t how girls can hypnotize you to do their bidding just by doing that)  She almost got me though, but I decided to show her, I decided ok, she didn’t hypnotize, I CHOOSE to show her my face, when my real eyes glanced at hers, without hesitating, she touched my cheeks and gave me a full kiss on the lips. She the slipped something in my hand, and she winked at me, then left to her house, and you guessed it, it was her number and name I case I forgot, but after that, I’ll never forget it. But after all the excitement we pretty much just packed up from our room and Harvey drove us to the airport but before that happened, we saw Disney World had police tape and police cars around the shore lines of the park, we especially saw news reporters, and them mentioning something about last night where people reported hearing guns blazing in Disney World, we all looked at each other cause we all know the full story, but never the less we made it to the airport, We all thanked Harvey for everything he did for us and I gave him $800, for him to enjoy the rest of his day, he thanked us and he said he will call Trench and let him know the mission was a success, we thanked him and we parted ways.

We made it back home safely, Trench called me soon after, gave me coordinates to meet him to collect our earned reward, we did exactly that. We saw Trench there with 2 bags, “Oh, so that’s Trench you told us about”, Wrecker said, “I thought he’d be taller” Blackheart said. We all got out and met him, “damn what happened to your face?” Trench said, “a big rodent and I fought”  I said jokingly, “Funny” he said, “well, Harvey told me the mission went very good, I’m glad to hear that, I’m sure not many can pull off what you 6 did over there, you all should be proud for that, he said, “Well, I am a man of my word, a deal is a deal, hear is your hard earned cash, you guys earned it enjoy yourselves” he said, Trench got into his car and drove off to who knows where. So that was pretty much it, we did our job successfully, We saved the teens from that nightmare, I got kissed by a beautiful voiced angelic women, and we each split the money We earned and this money is gonna save our lives for a while. Finally I was relaxing on my couch watching the news about the incident that happened at Disney World, “oh shit this outta be good”, I said to myself they mentioned a lot of witnesses  claimed that they heard what they thought was more fireworks late at night at the park but then the realized it was gun shots, and police did say they saw one man and they searched for anyone else that might have been with him, but they didn’t find anything or anyone else, the police also mentioned in case no one else know that the Island was off limits due to the pollution of the waters, (yeah I call that bullshit, ya jackasses), I said to my head, (and no other bodies??, what about mutant Donald and goofy, and those freaky baboons that wanted a bite out of us??), all of these questions I have unanswered, until I heard a knock on my door, I wasn’t expecting anybody,I looked through my window I didn’t see anyone, then the peephole, nothing. I then opened the door and I saw a small package on my step, “I didn’t order anything for a while”, I said to myself, I first kicked it to see if any reaction happened, nothing, so then I brought it inside, and it was a bit heavy to, got my Kbar knife to open it and it was heavily wrapped, so I unraveled it and what I saw inside made my heart feel like it was being squeezed until it popped, It was Mutant Mickey’s head, I know this wasn’t my work, I remembered that i shot it in the head, not cutting its head off, I checked the address on who send it, it didn’t say, who else could have send it, Trench, no not possible, Harvey?, no no still impossible, who could have send this. I still have the head til this day hidden in case if anyone from the corporation or even the cops come, I tried contacting my brothas but haven’t got any response from any of them, Oh No.....

END

If you've browsed Slender Man fansites, you've probably heard of 'The Tulpa Effect.' It argues that Slenderman is a thoughtform generated by the belief of tons of people. I've laughed it off... especially considering the fact that the first time I heard of this was from a cheesy clickbait video on Youtube. But then I did some research.

You see, the human brain is FAR more powerful than you could ever believe. Look up the 'Placebo Effect' if you want to understand what I'm getting at. So, what if there was some sort of shared consciousness? Yeah, I dismissed that all as pseudoscientific, Deepak Chopra bullcrap... Until the evidence came knocking on my doorstep.

The first event happened on July 2nd, 2015. That's when the 'North St. Paul Slasher' killed his first victim. You see, I have family living there, and I occasionally go to visit them. The drive from Michigan to Minnesota is long and grueling, but I've had bad experiences with airports, so I only fly internationally. And it was on one of these drives that I found out about it. I was twiddling with the F.M radio on my car when I stumbled upon a local news station. The newscaster started to report on a murder case in the neighborhood of North St. Paul. A woman had been found dead in her home. She was lying on her bed with her body positioned to look like she was still asleep; however, her throat was slit, and her chest was sliced open. The suspect was unknown.

The report continued with interviews, I'm assuming with witnesses and police officers, but I didn't want to listen to that anymore. I quickly switched the radio to a music station and attempted to put what I heard in the back of my head. During my stay, my family members became more and more paranoid. One day, I asked them what all the fuss was about, and my cousin, Trey, looked me dead in the eyes.

"It ain't safe out there."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I said it isn't safe out there."

I was incredibly fucking confused by that answer, and Trey could tell I was puzzled, so he started to explain. "Look, Sam... There's... been several murders near us. These people were killed in their sleep, with their throats slit and their chests cut open. The only surviving witness to these murders was the son of one of the victims, who walked in on the murderer, killing his father. He says the man stared at him and told him to go back to his bedroom and sleep." All of a sudden, what I heard on the radio jumped back into my head.

"I...actually heard about one of the murders on the way here... on the radio," I confessed. Uncle Lenny just scowled at me after I said that. "Then why didn't you tell us?"

"I thought it wasn't that relevant! Don't people... like... get murdered every day?"

Trey then cracked a joke. "Look, Dorothy, I don't think you're in Detroit anymore!" He laughed while everyone else just stared at him.

The rest of the day was quiet. Nobody spoke to me, or Trey, for that matter, for the rest of the day. My brief vacation ended a few days later, with me packing my things and driving back to Michigan.

When I got home, I followed the news on these murders very closely. I browsed through local news sites, made a couple of posts on true crime forums, and... I'll be honest, I've lost sleep over it.

An ending to that saga did come, on April 7th, 2016. They had caught the man. I believe his name was something like Geoffery Barnes or something like that... You should have seen his fucking mugshot. He looked like he got rejected from playing The Joker in 'The Dark Knight.'

However, that wasn't the only event of interest.

On February 12th, 2016, I browsed a couple of paranormal forums when I stumbled upon a thread from a man complaining of being stalked by some being that crawled on all fours. It started with people wondering if it was some sort of animal until OP posted an image of the creature. It was a grey humanoid with hollow eyes and a gaping jaw. I dismissed it as being photoshopped and continued browsing. More and more threads came up. A concerned mother was posting about how her son had disappeared after playing a hacked retro video game. His last nights were wracked with nightmares of a popular video game character killing him. Somebody made a thread linking to a YouTube upload of a missing episode of a popular children's cartoon where a character commits suicide. The video only remained up for a few hours before it was removed for violating YouTube's policies on violent content. The posts kept flooding in. There were sightings of tall faceless men, people were complaining about loved ones performing self-mutilation on themselves and sending their body parts through the mail, and countless more. I didn't know what was causing this rise in activity... Until a few years later.

Today, I logged back onto that forum and read through the threads. The content got weirder and weirder as I read. Video game characters were literally coming out of computer and tv screens, television shows were accurately predicting people's deaths, and there were more and more cryptid sightings. However, I noticed that there was one reply throughout all of the threads that remained almost the same.

It read:

'This is no coincidence.'

It would then be followed by a link. The link would vary from post to post, but it would always lead to some website that contained scary stories, also known as 'Creepypastas.' What was odd was, the stories were incredibly identical to what the people were experiencing on the forum were going through. The man complaining about the crawling humanoid? That was 'The Rake.' The boy who disappeared after playing a video game? Perhaps he had downloaded 'Sonic.EXE.' The suicidal cartoon character? 'Squidward's Suicide.' The self-mutilation and mailing of body parts? Those people definitely watched 'Mereana Mordegard Glesgorv.' And that Geoffery guy? Geoffery sounds like Jeffery, which can be shortened to... you get the point.

As I went through the threads... It all made sense. And then I remembered the Tulpa Effect.

Now, you may be wondering, why the hell am I posting this?

I'm posting this to warn you. Every time you read one of those damn stories, every time you listen to some dude on YouTube narrate one of those damn stories, every time you make or look at fan art of the characters in those damn stories, and especially every time you go onto your computer and write one of those fucking things... You are literally bringing the horror to life. People are dying... For what? A cheap scare?

And considering how powerful some of these beings are, you are opening Pandora's Box just by being on one of those sites. The difference? Hope isn't in this box.

So, if someone close to you dies in mysterious and supernatural instances, I want you to remember:

YOU DID THIS.



(The post above was posted onto several forums dedicated to the writing of short scary stories online.

A few days later, a body was discovered under a bridge in Ann Arbor, Michigan. The cause of death was a bullet to the head. However, no weapons were found at the scene. One odd thing to note is that the fingers on the victim's right hand were in a 'finger gun' pose with his pointer finger pointing at his head. A note was found near the body. It read:

'I guess I'll take the least painful death that was written about on those sites.'

This death has been ruled a suicide.)

The Best Part of Pokemon

by King Hadas

Prison is awful. Everyone's mean to me, the guards are especially mean. They keep putting me in solitary even though it's the other guys causing trouble, not me. I hate solitary, it's so boring. Just staring at the wall and waiting for-ev-er. After my first stint in there I tried my best to behave how the guards wanted but then I get in trouble just for defending myself. They all hate me for no reason, it's not fair!

I honestly thought I was gonna go crazy always by myself but then I remembered a story I heard about POWs in Vietnam. They were trapped like me and without any stimulation many of them lost it, but a few discovered a trick that proctected them. In their minds they would recreate something they read or heard in extreme detail. A novel word by word or a song note by note. It kept them focused and motivated and sane. Mind you it can't be just a vague remembering, every detail has to be considered no matter how small until it's correct, until you're absolutely certain it's correct. I've been doing it for awhile now and I can say it definitely works. Pokemon Red for the Nintendo Game Boy, that's what I recreate, down to the smallest detail. Now Solitary is nothing to me because I just play Pokemon over and over again in my head. It's wonderful.

I play it exactly the way I played it as a kid. I always pick Charmander of course, he's my favorite. and I don't bother catching other pokemon because Charmander's the best! But the first two gyms are tough for fire-types. The first gym is rock based which fire is ineffective against. And the next gym is water based which is Charmander's greatest weakness. The Cerulian City gym leader is Misty, she has no honor and happily exploits my Charmander's weakpoint making him faint over and over again. It's not fair, I have to grind a lot just to survive one Water Gun attack. Misty is mean, I'll never forgive her.

After her though the game is pretty easy since Charmander has evolved into the very powerful Charizard.

I get impatient now, just like when I was a kid,  and start rushing through the game, trying to get to Fuschia city as fast as possible. Fuschia City is where you get the item HM04 which teaches Strength. Strength is a technique that let's my Charizard move heavy objects. Once you've learned it you can go back to Vermillion City where there's a secret only I know about! If you go to the Vermillion City docks there's a parked truck that you can now move! Underneath it is a secret HM. I use it on my Charizard and learn a new ability.

When I was younger I didn't know how to use the new move because its name was a word I'd never heard before. I would walk around randomly using it everywhere. For awhile I do this in my recreation as well even though I'm very familiar with the word now, and I know exactly how to use the move too, you just have to be standing next to a building.

"Charizard used Arson".

The best part of the game, this is it. You see Arson sets buldings on fire, and when you leave and come back they're reduced to ashes. And all the people who were inside now exist in the ruins as ghost-type pokemon, which you can capture. It's time, it's finally time! Back to Cerulean City as fast as I can, I can't wait anymore!

I burn down the Gym and I capture everyone inside, including Misty. They're now mine to punish as I see fit, as it should be.

I make them fight to exhaustion over and over again. I freeze them and poison them and burn them and then revive them again and again until every Pokemon Center in the world is burnt to the ground and then I go home and store them in my PC, the last PC in the game. Each in their own solitary box, and then I burn my house down so they can never leave. I wonder if they know the way to stay sane? I hope not.

After this I delete my save and I do it again and again and again and again....

Pokemon Red was very important to me as a child. I grew up playing it, I learned to read playing it. It was my only game and in some ways it was my only friend. It's like that in here too. Everyone in here is a bully. Even the warden is a bully. When I was arrested I had a big bag of marbles, just a harmless bag of marbles. I've begged the warden and anyone who'll listen, please give them back, but they refuse. Even though it means a lot to me they always refuse.

I don't even want the whole bag really, only twelve of the marbles really matter to me. The rest are empty.

Pasta:https://spinpasta.fandom.com/wiki/Recovered_Files

(Based on a true events)

Seven years ago, my cousin died of schizophrenia. We knew he wasn't doing well, and wasn't expected to get any better, but we didn't expect him to do anything as drastic as he did. He, Jeremy, was always in his own little world, glued to his computer for as long as he could manage. We always thought it was a good thing. Starting a conversation with him about whatever he was playing would calm him down in an instant and anchor him back to reality a bit.
But I just found a text file on his old laptop after all this time that seems to be his thoughts during his last days. I don't think I know enough about games to describe it, so I'll just post it here. He doesn't date the entries, but it seems to start around March 12th 2011, and ends on May 22nd 2013.

"It's been a bit since the flood. (For context, he moved to Japan with my aunt in 2009, so the flood he's talking about is the Tohoku earthquake.) Phone's been out since then, so Mom's been using the main computer a lot. I can't get on the internet from this laptop, but it's something to do at least.
Mom says I should start a diary. She's been saying that for a while, but now I actually have a reason, so I guess I'm doing it now. I got Paladin to max level yesterday, so that's cool. I don't know what to do know so I've just been running around a lot. I guess that's all. Is that enough for an entry? I'll say it is."

"Mom's hogging the computer again. Really not much to do when she does that. I went and explored the forest near home. Found a couple people out there and we wandered around together for a bit. That was fun, I guess. I really can't think of anything to say in this? Is this even productive?"

"OK I KNOW WHY MOM WANTED ME TO WRITE IN THIS NOW! There's a star in the sky! The guys I pointed it out to didn't see it, but it was bright! AND RED! This diary is for me to write down the things I see! I'll review these entries later once I've got a few, then maybe I can figure out what they mean."

"I was walking around today with my sword, and a guard told me to give it to him. It wasn't my main one. Just a wooden branch, really, so I handed it over. This never happened before, so I can only guess it's an event like the star. The red star is still there, by the way. Not always, but it IS still there!"

"The star is either bigger, or brighter, I can't tell. But others can see it when it's up there now. I actually hear other characters talking about it now. I have no idea what's going on!"

"I've been playing for years now, this isn't normal. But most people are just going about their day like it's not even there! When I'm forced off the computer I start looking around for more weird events. I haven't seen any yet, but I'm extremely wary."

"It's even closer now. Just a bit smaller than the moon. Whatever that red is is, I dunno, roiling? It's like a fire. Is that what a star looks like this close? It's not as bright as the sun though. There's activity outside the city now. I think it's related, but no one seems to know anything about it. I'm going to go see what's up outside. When I get back, I'm preparing."

"The 'activity' was nothing important. At least if it wasn't related to me losing my stuff it's not. When I got back to my room, all my weapons were gone. I swear I remember exactly where I put them. I asked my Mom if she moved them, but she acted like she'd never even seen them! A lure like that is just the kind of thing the Empire would do, so I'm not discounting them."

"Closer. Again, no one knows why it's coming, save for the doomsayers going on about the end of the world. I'm usually disinclined from believing that blabber, but the scale of this might be beyond my friends and I. Then again, I've thought that before and we haven't failed yet. So preparations continue."

"Monsters and Imperials innumerable. They didn't stop. The star was close enough to see that it was ancient tech surrounded in a cloud of storm. I still don't understand how, or why, but regardless I've been fighting for hours. Outside my city there was a great wall of stone-like creatures. It seems others are taking defense as seriously as I am. I was on a journey to the front when I succumbed to sleep. I can only hope I make it in time."

"It's over. I don't know what this means. The construct burst and a creature was released. It went on a rampage, destroying everything. Then... That was it. It was over. There was no more. I couldn't think straight for a whole day. I think I understand thought. I have to make up for my failure. I'm still here, so I have to do what I can."

"It's been a few months. My mother was very concerned at my return, though more relieved to see me than anything. I would love to console her, but I know she won't understand. She may call others to try to prevent me from leaving again. I've only got a meager knife, but I've trained with it and I think I'm ready. This is my final entry before my pilgrimage to Tokyo. I'm going to confront the conductors of the apocalypse before they can commit to another one. Anyone who tries to stop me, I'll treat as one of them. I'm resolved to become an unsung hero."

Jeremy got in a scuffle with my Aunt. She's fine now, but he gave her a few scars before running away. Of course she called the police. Apparently it took them a while to find him, and when they did, he was apparently near feral, biting and scratching at anyone who came near him. Supposedly didn't say a single word during the stand off. I can only imagine the tension at that time. Jeremy jumped at the officers and when they got him to the ground, he started bashing his head against the ground. They restrained him, I guess, but he died from the trauma around 2:30 AM May 23 2013.

Again, I don't game, and Jeremy's ramblings were always hard to decipher, for me at least. So if someone could explain this to me, I'd be grateful.

"Hey, get away from there", the command barely registering to the delinquents as they continued their vandalism. I sat up from my place at the the porch table and waved a fist in the direction of the youth "Don't make me call the police you little shits, get moving"! The pair of teenagers eyed me up and down with a look of bemused indifference, the taller of the two males even raising a hand to throw a distasteful gesture in my general direction. My eyes narrowed and my head began to found as I stepped off the old porch and headed in their direction. The Baxter's two boys and a recurring nightmare for me on my retirement, the lanky and pimple encompassed Adam and his squat greasy sidekick George. The two had been a pain my ass ever since moving to this back woods road to nowhere, having no one else around for miles it seems they had been looking for someone like me to come along. "Shove it Osborne you old freak" the crusty faced tooth pick yelled through yellowed teeth, the soaked monstrosity to his left chortling that ridiculous laugh like a malfunctioning car engine.

My teeth grit as I reached the dividing fence that separated us and grasped it firm. The old and rusty metal rattling as I craned over to better leer at the pitiful pair. "You had best get back to your house you assholes or I so help me god I am gonna do something I regret" the last part emphasized with another large knock to the decrepit fence. The youths finally seemed to catch on that it would be unwise to continue their activities, Adam freezing like a deer in the headlights while the ball of butter cowered behind him. A sigh escaped my lips as the twin horrors tore like bad across the road for their home. The sounds of them crying and the threats of their parents ire earning a chuckle while I leaned on the old railing. I watched the fading steam as my breath dissipated in the brisk autumn air, swirling and writing around itself before being swallowed by the wind. Have regained my composure I decided to hop the fence and inspect the damage.

The object of the children's abuse just so happened to be an old and battered scarecrow left on the neighbors lawn, high and vigilant among the overgrown grass and weeds that blanketed every other corner of the property since the year previous. Old man Malone, the oh so creative name I had dubbed the decrepit bird watcher had long stood a sentinel along the fence that separated my house from the old barn next door. A subject of much ire and disappointment to the people who put it up I imagined. Given the sheer number of crows and other wildlife that thrived in the aftermath of the previous families departure. Sighing I stepped up to the old scarecrow and frowned, glancing at the damage done by the children. The old sack that once made up Malone's head had been drilled through with a handful of heavy rocks, splattered through with a vile substance. The faded featureless cloth beneath soaked through and dripping with the foul smelling liquid. I wrinkled my nose in disgust, dreading another cleaning session I grasped the scarecrow.

Holding onto the worn and ragged post driven into the long wild grass below I yanked upwards. The scarecrow came loose from the grown with a resounding groan of the aged wood, lifting the mass of hay and old clothes I turned back towards my home. Rising up the steps to my dilapidated home letting the cool air give way to the musk of the inner halls I proceeded onward. Along narrow halls and through the tiny kitchen of the old one story home, stopping to catch my breath I laid Malone down on the old dusty table. The furniture creaked sending that shrill noise through the dusty air of the old home, used to the sounds of the old house I simply retrieved my tools from the fridge without a word. Gathering up the assortment of bottles and metallic instruments into a small bag I turned my attention back to the scarecrow. Grimacing at the tears in his yellowed flannel shirt and baggy jeans, the brown of the damp hay mixed with the torn yellow material only emboldening the contrast to the oozing liquid dripping onto the floor.

Lifting the scarecrow with both arms and a grunt I urged my tired body onward. Leaving the cramped kitchen and into the network of narrow corridors once again, taking my time to enjoy the assortment of pictures and Polaroids nailed to their surface. The neighbors and their annoying kids playing in the yard, my workshop when I had finished setting it up after moving in, an assorted collection of my prizes from a long life of work. Leaving the pleasant memories behind I reached out for a small handle jutting out from the wall, practically hidden among the posters and old warped wood I grasped the knob and pushed. The small door opened to reveal the neglected steps to the basement, dust and cobwebs thrown into the air in a violent frenzy as my passing disturbed their long rest. The dim light of the hall above had not the ability to pierce the darkness of the hidden away refuge of my workshop, the cold and damp walls filling me with a form of nostalgic happiness. Stepping off the old steps and into the abyss before us I effortlessly found my way to the old stainless steel table at the rooms center. Dropping Malone onto its surface with a resounding thud I turned for the light switch, feeling through the blackness for the small desk lamp took some time but not so much as to kill my bliss. Finding it at long last I pulled the small chain, the bulb struggling for a moment before weakly blinking to life.

Illuminated in the shine of the lamp I could see Malone's face, almost visible through the faded cloth seeped thin with the substance oozing from beneath. Unflinchingly I tore the layer of cloth and shoddily stuffed hay away from his frame, clothes soon after leaving nothing but his bare naked frame on the cold table below. I had to admit I had not expected the body of Mr Baxter senior to still be holding blood this long after death, a good chunk of his skin and outer flesh already long since decayed away. I chocked up his pulp to the traits he shared with his sons, a greasy and odorous mound of bulk in life, it had taken me ages to shave off enough to fit his form into the dam scarecrow. The rest of him had been eagerly accepted by the wildlife and scavengers of the abandoned homestead next door. His gargantuan mass must still hold some clotted arteries from a lifetime of misuse I mused as I strapped on a pair of stained rubber gloves. This time I will have to do better in preserving the body, if a couple stones were enough to nearly reveal the identity of my master piece. Well it wouldn't be long before old man Malone had himself a pair of farm hands in that field as well.

When I was young, my mother was a priestess of Shub Niggurath. My youth was fraught with queer occurrences, resulting from my peculiar upbringing.
     -Tior Raimath

This is a story written by Benjamin Fugman in 2018 based in the classic Weird Fiction style. The original summary paragraph is in the voice of the first chapter's narrator, the chapters pass off between different narrators, and an effort was made to give each an individual voice, while maintaining an overall linguistic writing style of classic American weird fiction


Chapter 1: In Terror In A Forrest

I bounded through the verdant sylvan expanse weaving between pine and sycamore trees loping over low brush and crashing through hangings of ivy. I fled as though for my very life, though I was sure it was not in danger, but perhaps my soul...

It was an early Tsathogtog morning, 10th Hasturdan, 9th year of the 3rd Yig Cycle, those who have marked well their history and are familiar with the olden way of marking time will know the significance of that date, others may not be able to reason it. In those days my mother was a priestess to the great mother goddess, something that was meant to be a high honour for our family. I was only a child then and could barely grasp the concept of honour, or the olden ways.

Looking over my shoulder I caught sight of a grayish flash which must have been the fabric of my pursuer's garment, receding behind the trunk of a tall lodgepole pine. Although our village had been here for centuries, a bastion of the old gods, our way of life was under siege. A colony of prigmatic, tecnophobic puritanical foreigners had settled nearby. The foreigners, by their account, had fled their homeland for greener shores, because their king had forbidden the practice of their religion, they believed they would have the freedom to practice their religion, the execution of which, apparently includes the persecution of all other religions, here in our land. The foreigners reject the old gods and despise the olden ways. Being a precocious youth, I was naturally curious about our strange monochromatically clad neighbours, a curiosity vehemently discouraged by my mother, and the rest of our clergy.

I slipped on a slimy pig's ear mushroom and nearly stumbled headlong into a blackberry bramble, fortunately my head wasn't quite long enough to collide with the spineffrous succulents. As I scrambled to my feet I beheld clearly my dogged ferreter's form, only a single, solitary sojourner had taken up my trail, I wasn't sure if that was a good sign or bad, but I knew it would probably be best not to lead my lone pursuer back to our village, this I could handle alone. I'd gone out by the mill early that morning. The mill is the furthest structure from the main part of the settlement, and, I had observed, the miller's daughter arose early each morning to see to a number of the menial tasks which the miller himself avoided on the excuse that he needed to keep his hands clean for his trade, and the miller's wife avoided by excelling at kittchenry. The daughter being stuck with such tasks as she was suited my aim just fine. There was a supple grace about her exertions which held a near mesmeric charm to me. I was especially entranced then, on that particular Tsathogtog morning, watching her draw water from the miller's cobblestone well by pulling the thick hemp rope across a hanging pulley, wrapping each length about a carven spooling board.

Of a sudden a flock of whippoorwills rose out of the wood some ways to my left, converging on the center of the foreign settlement, a detail which would have escaped my notice, if not for the reaction of the miller's long eared basset hound, who gave a stark and resolute alert at the passing of the birds. "Bawoooo, yawp yawp yawp!" Echoing across the supernal gulfs of the Naisance sky the hound's baying was in the classical learnt language of man's canine counterparts, "They go, look, look, look!" The miller's daughter, heedless of the flocking birds, looked about for some more terrestrial source for the beast's call of alarm. I knew the hound was unlikely to bark at me, I had long since purchased his allegiance with some venison jerky and dried roasted potato slices. The miller's daughter though, I doubted snacks would buy her loyalty. Her eyes, sharpened by the state of hyper focus brought on by the dog's alarm, scanned the tree line, where I lay crouched in the bushes. Then she stopped scanning and stared, directly, intently at the bush behind which I was but poorly concealed. I did not know if she saw me or not, but the wind picked up, suddenly and the mill shrieked with indignation as its five great arms were spurred into unnatural animacy. Afraid it would wake the miller I stood bolt up, and I knew the miller's daughter saw me then. For only a brief moment, I stared back at her, then I turned and ran wildly into the great wood.

Scampering over roots and stones, shaken up a bit after my little tumble. She was gaining ground behind me much more rapidly than I would have expected. She seemed to be the only one following me, nor could I detect anyone following her. The Miller's daughter was nearly a megalithic foot taller than myself, and her resultant speed advantage was staggering. A little over a week before that, on the Azatog before last, the last day of Yog Sothdan I had sneaked up to the hillock around the olden temple, not that I was really alone at least half the youngsters of our village had crept up to those old stone apertures to behold, the rites of the holy mother goddess, Shub Niggurath. As I have said. My mother was a priestess, as such she wore about her head the many horned mask of The Black Goat, that being her singular item of attire. Likewise her duties as a priestess also required her participation in every facet of the rites, with every adult in our village, rites which were simultaneously public, and intimate.

Bursting through a furrow of crisscrossed branches I found myself in a small clearing. Surround on all but the side I had entered from with thick growths of switchwillows making exiting the clearing a trickier proposition than entering, I had reached my destination. The hairs on  the back of my neck pricked like the heckles of a trapped boar, the the taste of a copper oblation ladle permeated the surface of my tongue. With a crash my solitary huntress shot through the veritable door of crossing branches, then with a hop and a skip she leapt at me from behind, tacking me into the switchwillows ahead which sprung back in resistance flinging the both of us on our backs, side by side in the soft grass and dandelions.

"Why'd you chase me?" I demanded.
"Why weret thou watching me?" Retorted the confident golden haired grey mantled girl.
"You folk are different. I's fascinated how you go to all that trouble pullin' up buckets and wrappin' that rope, instead of puttin' in a tap and hand pump. We done it for nigh on two cycles now out my village." I hoped that this elongated display would help hide the threadbare nature of my excuse.
She smiled at me, you might call it a knowing smile. "Knowest thou not? Idle hands are the devil's playground."
"Well," I scratched my head, "I ain't never met no devil. So I couldn't say where they spend their time, but if they like idle hands there can't be none on yours."
She leaned close to my ear and whispered, practically breathed, "These hands are less holy than thou might suspect." After that I stared long and intently into her eyes, as deep and as blue-green as the ocean.
We both were silent for a time, then the whippoorwills rushed past above us zigzagging and cavorting in a pseudofluid mass, more akin to a river rapid than a flock of birds, darkening the sky above the clearing for nearly three seconds this time their presence was heralded by a deep abyssal cooing, interspersed with earslicing shrieks. For a moment after they passed all was silent, the wind seemed to cut off sharply, as though the birds had taken it with them...
"Tell me," she broke the silence, "is it true what they say about your people?"
"Is what true?" My expression of shock must've made my face the very caricature of old Tsathogua, eyes bulging, chin drawn back and my mouth pulled into a terrapinean frown, all framed by my, I was sure, massive, somewhat pointed ears. The other youths in my village often called me donkey ears, so they must've been large.
"You know," her right eye twitched as the right corner of her mouth raised in a momentary smirk, "how you're all savages?" This last word seemed to fill her with some taboo sort of thrill.
"Well I wouldn't know what a savage is." I blurted out, "But when I think about it, it don't sound like the nicest thing to call folk."
"You know." She smirked again as if she really expected I knew. "It means you eat raw meat with your bare hands, wear the skins of animals, all that sort of thing."
Those two things were true, I had eaten raw meat on many occasions, and my clothes were made primarily of leather, "Well sure, but I don't see how that makes me a savage." I tried to mimic her thrill, I'm sure it came across as sarcastic. "Anyway," I added, "whadda you figure your shoes are made of."
Her face was flush as she glanced downward and pointed her toes skyward.
"And they say you chant blasphemous intonations to false gods." Her thrill remained, but her words were beginning to drudge up offense from the dark corners of my soul.
"I never heard worship called blasphemy before," pivoting off my knee and elbow I swung myself over, above her, not touching her directly, but effectively blocking her ascent. "And what do you figure makes your new god more real than the old gods?"
"They.." She squeaked, "also say that your people practice indiscriminate acts of deviancy."
"What are you getting at?" I indignated as I drew back to a crouched posture before her.
"I think you know." She smirked again, higher than before, this time winking her right eye and raising her left eyebrow. Then she sat up first supported on her elbows, then on her palms. Leaning forward until the gap between our faces was less than it had been when I was slung over her. Slowly she pursed her lips into an o, brought them just against mine quickly made a pop with the inner part of her lips. And she sank slowly back wrapping her hands about her chest. If this was a kiss I'd never seen its like amongst my people, but perhaps it passed for a kiss amongst hers, because she appeared as one in the throws of ecstatic bliss.
Her hands slid from her chest apart and down to her hips which she momentarily supported above the rest of her body, then spread her knees as she slowly lowered her hips back to the ground. Then she slid her hands 'round her hips into the middle of her thighs, pressing the fabric into the space between her legs, joining her hands in a mudra of prayer, and creating a Y shaped depression in her dress. I was filled with a hunger beneath my stomach such as I had never fealt. She began walking her fingers in place, bunching up the fabric of her grey dress and white skirts. Once she had the last skirt gathered, she rapidly pulled them up, then pushed them down again. Quickly I caught sight of the same vibrant gold which wreathed her headstrong confident visage. Slowly she pulled the lot up again, revealing a total absence of undergarments, save for her thigh high cotton socks. I fealt saliva welling up around my tongue and teeth looking back to her face I saw her eyes widen, and her lips parted in a beckoning grin. I gave in to my instincts, and I ate the miller's daughter.


Chapter 2: Terror In The Forest

I made my way slowly back through that ancient and secreted wood, slowly and carefully, though I could feel the hot acid breath of Kerberos on my back. Slowly because it is easy to become disoriented in the unfamiliar and suddenly cold woods. Slowly because I knew I had committed a mortal sin. I needed time to think of what I would say if my absence were noted. Though even moving slowly I tried to hurry, because each minute I tarried longer increased the likelihood I would be missed. It's easy to go fast when you're following someone going fast who knows the way, easy to dash and dive when filled with the energizing folly of youth. Not so easy when returning guideless and humbled with guilt and contrition.

An owl called out from a treetop. "Hark! Wrongdoer abroad!" A chorus of owls in nearby trees responded, "Who?! Who? Who?!" The one above me answered promptly, "Autlander!"

Then a black mockingbird landed on the branch directly ahead of me spread its wings, and in Pastor's voice it cried, "Below!" Then discharging the burden of its breakfast the wretched black imitator flitted to a higher branch and declared, "Below lies hellfire!"
I quickened my pace. What did those avian busybodies care what I'd done, oh Thazzos! What had been done to me... For me... With me! That I had betrayed my honour, my family, my God! I passed by the silk things I had left by a tree trunk, I was on the right track bits of moss clung to them so I left them be. Father, Pastor, everyone! They were right! The were right about the savages about their depravity, about their indiscretion. Worse yet they were right about me, I am a wicked creature filled with lust and devious fancies. I committed a mortal sin and loved every minute of it. In the moments following our iniquitous encounter, my new savage friend and I resumed to conversing.

"So," the other stared inquisitively into my eyes, with disarming attention. "Is it true what they say about you folk." This in clear mockery of my earlier inquest.
"I know't not. What do they say?" I couldn't imagine what savages would have to say about sojourners.
"How y'all only read one book, only pray to one god, never wear colours?" The questions came in rapid succession, much as I had done moments before.
"Well, yes but..." I trailed off. Somehow at that point I fealt that the straight and narrow way I had been taught to respect seemed utterly indefensible.
My new friend looked more grave, suddenly. In a hushed and graveled voice asked. "Is it true you folk kill your own if they don't do like your book says?" A chill wind picked up rustling the switchwillows that surrounded us.
"I don'..." I started to try to say something to object, but how could I? I'd seen it happen. Then I heard the screech, the low distant rumble. My father's mill coming to life again. "I must return home!"
"Yeah, I better head out too.." My friend reluctantly agreed.

I reached the trail we'd turned off of, towards the clearing. I looked first down the way homeward, then up the way to the heathen village. And I saw it! A bull moose, tall as a house, as wide from antler to antler as father's mill. The moose pawed the ground before him with a forehoof as wide as a literal dinnerplate. Then stomped hard and shook its massively antlered head, snorting forth clouds of tangible vapor. And with a thunderous declaimation it bellowed. "Boar-oak! Due-wall!" All thought left me for a moment, I sprinted down the homeward path like a possessed infidel.

Thought returned, however, as it is wont to do in moments when it is least welcome. "Baroque dual..." Why would a moose say such a thing? What could it mean, such pointless notions, Moose don't talk, he was only bellowing. I became cognizant of a rythmatic thumping, dadadump, dadadump, dadadump, dump, dump, dadadump, dadadump, dadadump, dump dump. God above how pitiful must I have looked to the moose, how ridiculous? Hurling myself forward at what I was sure was my top speed whilst he, with his long legs, was gaining ground rapidly, at a mere trot. As the voluminous drooping snout,  entered my field of view from the right, I was forced to reevaluate my top speed. Both feet left the ground with each stride, the snout and the consistent thumping receeded to a more comfortable distance. The path curved ahead a fallen log lay along the side, supported by two stumps the ground beneath padded with dry needles. I saw my opportunity, and grasped it by the proverbial antlers. I dropped to my knees and slid under the raised log, bending backwards to fit. Then, Carrump! Carrump! First the forehoolves, then the hind hoolves clomped down on the log and he launched himself over me, sailing through the air, as smoothly as the Lilly White had sailed across the ocean, conveying us here. Then came a thunderous, Carrump! Carrump! As the bull moose landed ahead of me. He trotted off into the forrest, self reliant as you please. I looked back at the log, it had buckled out at the bottom two long thick splinters crossed where my neck had been moments before, forming a more than suitable guillotine for the likes of me. I crept around the log, back to the path home. My joints ached, my muscles burned, salt water poured forth from the creases of my hands, never the less I spurred myself into a wholehearted jog. At least I'd gotten an idea what to tell my father.

I emerged shaking from the shadowed vale of the wood, my father stood beside the mill with his thumbs hooked into the corners of his black apron nearly white down the center with the collected dust of flour. My mother stood halfway out the door of the house, with a glance from father she retreated tacitly within. Like the moose, he bellowed, "Cornelia! Where hast thou been?!"

"I-I-I--" I stammered at the total reality of the inquisition I knew was coming, but could never prepare myself for the severity of. "I beheld a moose in the wood." Tears were already dampening my cheeks. I had committed a mortal sin that morning, and then I committed another sin by lying and dishonouring my parents, but they could never know. "It was s-s-so majestic I longed for a closer vantage, so I entered the wood, but..." I could feel him seeing through my fabrications like light passing through a cheesecloth. "It chased me! Oh father I was so frightened!"

There was no sympathy in his eyes, no empathy, no humanity. He was like his stone grinding wheel incarnate. "You see?! The lord thy god has punished thee for neglecting thy duties!" He scowled a scowl which radiated ill humour as the sun radiates light and warmth. I trudged through ankle-deep liquessent regret to the side of the well and finished drawing the water I would need to rinse the chamberpots.


Chapter 3: In The Temple An Upheaval

I sat on the black sheep skin covering of the big stone chair in the center of the old stone temple. I shifted my position trying to find some semblance of comfort. The black goat mask I wore for rituals sat to my right upon the broad carven arm rest, I wore the blackbird down brassiere and black hog loincloth which constituted the expected daytime attire of my office, for the Naisance season. Coal braziers burned on either side of me, each around two megalithic yards removed from the position of the chair, serving practically no purpose, as the morning light streamed in through the broad apertures in the upper part of the temple walls, and neither the sunlight nor the fire were doing much of anything to combat the chill in the air. I suspect the seasons may have undergone some migration of pattern, since the formation of the olden calendar, Hasturdan always fealt like part of Fridgidation, to me. Even the ignorant outlanders set the seasonal transition in late Nyarladan upon the day and night of equal length, yet, for reasons beyond my ken, the older calendar sets the transition to Naisance always on the first day of Hasturdan. And on that day each year am I expected to retire my Frigidation robes in favor of the less concealing Naisance accoutrements.

A cold breeze whirled through the temple, raising gooseflesh all about my person, but also providing a momentary respite from the smell, the smells of old love, of sick and slough residue, of dried blood, of damp furs, and of the ever present mildew in the corners. I casually picked out a cone of incense, from my incense chest, and tossed it into the brazier on my right, for all the good it would do... Valcaz, an ignominious obtrusive fellow, ambitious enough to land himself a position as emissary to the high priest of Ithaqua, stood on the cobbled walkway of the old stone temple, quill in hand and papyrus ready on a plankboard, awaiting my reply to his master's declaration. "Be gone, Valcaz, tell your master I will send a messenger with my answer when I am good and ready." That's what I wanted to say to him, but he would surely tell Thogue my exact words, whether they constituted a formal reply or not.

Thogue, the high priest of Ithaqua, lived high on the peak of The Cold Mountain in the temple observatory of Ithaqua. Valcaz had come on this morning to present me with a message from the decrepified ancient hierophant, concerning a threat he believed the outlanders presented, it told of how he had espied a ship docking at the other settlement of outlanders to the south, the one called Jacobston and that six men had carried two boxes, too short and thin to be caskets, but as heavy as three whole bodies up the coast to Rocksmouth, the settlement nearest our village. He believed these boxes held some kind of weapons that he feared would make the outlanders stronger than us. He proposed that we gather together all the priests and priestesses of all the tribes, here, at the old stone temple, and summon Yog Sothoth, and ask for weapons that would outmatch those of the foreigners. It didn't altogether make sense to me. The folk in Rocksmouth hated the Jacobites even more than they hated our folk. Most of all they hated the Jacobites' industries, without which I saw no way their weapons could make them stronger than our warriors. And if they did have weapons like the folk down in Jacobston then the show of light and thunderous sounds I'm told accompany the summoning of Yog Sothoth would only serve in tempering their resolve to attack us. It's important to understand, while the message was phrased in the form of a request, Thogue does not make requests, so I could reasonably assume he intended to hold the summoning ritual at my temple, regardless any protest I should attempt. So I was attempting to compose my thoughts carefully to formulate a response to Thogue's unabashed insult that would not be construed as overtly insulting to Thogue.

"Lady Tirague," Valcaz intoned in his accustom sickening, saccharin, sing-song with its wavering phlegmy timbre, "We humbly await your affirmative."

Perhaps his two guards, armed with bills, were humble, but Valcaz as far as I knew, did not know how to do anything in the spirit of humility. The wind whipped around the temple again, ruffling Valcaz's lavender coloured wool robe, and displacing a lock of my hair in front of my face.

I pursed my lips and blew the errant strands aside. "Very well, you may take this down, I certainly agree that the old stone temple is our most ancient and holiest site, and would be ideal for a summoning of such magnitude. I do have a notable concern, that the performance of such a ritual might instigate a conflict that might otherwise have been avoided, but if--"

A ruckus became audible near the temple entrance. A group of children could be heard shouting, "Heehaw! Heehaw! Heehaw!" A taunt I recognized all too well.

"Pardon me, exalted emissary, but I must look into the welfare of my child." Pushing off the seat with the palms of my hands I sprung up and took the three steps down from the chair's pedestal at a leap, dashed past Valcaz, and between his suddenly bewildered guards, then out the great arched portal of the old stone temple at the bottom of the front stoop I could see a circle of unruly youngsters, most of them still chanting, "Heehaw! Heehaw!" Their apparent ring leader, a girl named Zolaxia, was shouting, "Hey ass-ears! Take in any interestin' palaver eavesdropping on them strange folk?! C'mon we know that's where you go, to spy on all them black-hatted heathens, so what'd ya learn."

"Answer Zola's question, you buck tooth donkey!" Shouted another.

"Enough!" I shouted, projecting my voice as I would for a ritual. First 'Zola' turned around, then all the rest that weren't already facing me, those that were looked up, then they all scampered off leaving only one youngster sitting on the ground. Arms wrapped about knees, face wet with perspiration and tears, caked with dirt, which had apparently been kicked up from the thoroughfare by the bullies was my child, my daughter, Tior. I ran down and embraced her. Valcaz and his guards were leaving, I didn't care. He'd gotten enough from me he fealt confident faking an affirmative to the high priest.


Chapter 4: Omens, Portents, Questions, Resolutions, And Suspicion.

Upon this Tsathogtog, Tenth day of Hasturdan, year Nine, Third Yig Cycle, I, Thogue, am, as I do every day, putting down in writing the most significant events of the day.

This morning despatched Valcaz to procure use of the old temple for imminent summoning of Yog Sothoth from the outer realms. His success is imperative, if indeed, the puritans have obtained Jacobean armaments our own meagar iron blades will not be sufficient to waylay them. Only the raycasters Yog Sothoth can deliver will outmatch the speed and ferocity of Jacobite rifles. And only if they have designs against us would they dare break their taboo against obtaining such implements.

Made water shortly after. That peculiar violet shade again, far off from the healthy daffodil one comes to expect. No precedent for this phenomenon found, neither in our own scrolls, nor the Jacobite medical encyclopedias obtained at last sally to trading post. I have grow fearful these months of an impending death. Not of my body, not yet, but in this instance a death of reason, and with it a death of purpose, and without reason or purpose, am I still the voice of Ithaqua, or merely a shell put upon by dumb instinct to ejaculate incoherent noises?

From my long-glass did observe a flock of whippoorwills rising up from The Round Mountain to the south and west. Did see them dart hither and thither, then alight upon the settlement of Rocksmouth. If the devil the outlanders speak of exists, his name is Gtangatua, and his servants grow stronger, even now, within the round mountain, the fuel the Yulggothans need is the distillate of heretic souls, and the whippoorwills are the vessel by which that fuel is gathered. The gadoffel restrictive nature of the puritans' dogma makes them a fertile breeding ground for heresy. And their habit of executing the accused makes them an ideal self harvesting fuel source for the Yulggothans. This is why it's all the better that we ensure as many of them as can be, be allowed to die fighting for their beliefs, at least then they will not quicken the empowering of that neigh unstoppable diabolic beast.

It was by beholding Gtangatua that the deathless Old Gods were driven to and endless slumber. the Yulggothans have never announced their intent. But, for myself I have no doubt that it does not bode well for we, the legacy of the Old Gods.

Did witness through the long glass some nameless mischief of frivolity, which bears remembering, but surely not setting down, at once did see whippoorwills returning from Rocksmouth to The Round Mountain. 'Tis clear enough they got what they were after, or they'd have dispersed to gathering and spying, but they returned to that Round Mountain in haste, no doubt fat on the gluck of the vital energies of a soul liberated from flesh in doubt of its final destination there to bring it to that all hideous metalic monolith The Gtangator, set up on the stone slab in the middle of The Round Mountain, Gods alone know what the Mi-Go have planned for it, legend tells that after it was built, over three mythotic cycles ago, Gtangatua himself moved into it. Every since then I know they send out them whippoorwills whenever anyone dies hereabouts, and if that one dies in doubt of the faith their soul holds strongest to them birds claim the soul with their cacophonous chant, and when they get one they fly it straight back to The Gtangator where them Mi-Go take and latch onto it with positron arcs and drop it into an antiprotonic ectoplasmatic container, at least that's how the old scrolls put it. Them Mi-Go don't show up too well through the long glass, but their machines show up just fine, and watchin' you can tell just what they're doing, it matches up to what the scrolls seem to mean, and it must be to some sinister purpose, for I know right well that the Mi-Go use the stuff distilled from those ghosts to flit about and spin their lassos but besides that the stash most of't away in The Gtangator. A series of twelve blue lights run the height of the obelisk. From the time it was built, over three cycles ago, until the time I became High Priest of Ithaqua and my predecessor showed me the tower through the long glass only six of those lights had become illuminated,  however one more lit up shortly after my appointment to this office, and three have come on just in the ten years since outlanders breached our shores, two just in the eight years since the puritan's arrived. And now... Today, even before my eyes, after the latest, "witch" was refined, I, Thogue, sound enough in mind to set down these words, did witness the second to last light flickering to life.

Supped, good corn, good roasted venison, chilli sauce was too strong, so refrained, must ask cook to prepare milder batch.

After supper made water again, not merely violet, but also slightly luminous in the evening dark. Gods what's happening to me?!

Valcaz returned shortly after, bringing affirmative for ritual venue. I have no doubt Yog Sothoth will be our salvation.

In bed now ready to retire for the night, I cradle the raycaster I obtained so many years ago, for the war with the Imeks. More powerful than a thousand spears, and still has some charge left. If worst comes to worst, I know I can still depend on this.


Chapter 5: An Execution In The Square

This morning I dreamt a dream most ominous and hideous, in the dream I was a hide clad savage with beads and feathers tied into my greasy hair. I did not see, but knew that I was a warrior of the Ornek tribe. I somehow knew that we were at war with the the fairer skinned Nyagal from the north region around the cold mountain. I remembered, rather than experienced previous battles in which their metal pikes had cut through the wood of our stone headed spears, and claw-swords easily, but this time would be different, we'd gotten ahold of enough metal weapons by raiding their war camps in the night to put up a proper fight, or so we thought.

The dawn was blazing scarlet, not peach or pumpkin, like a dawn aught to be. The dawn wind which should be stone and surf, was instead copper and dry lightning. I could feel the tension in my entire brigade as we crested the southern hill of Clover Valley we expected to see the pikes and bills of the Nyagal first cresting the northern hill, but instead we saw the plumes of their helmed heads, they weren't wielding blades of steel, instead, they carried large rectangular objects of some dull unlustrous metal painted with red and blue accents. For an eternal moment we stared in stunned curiosity then, it happened... An un-forking bolt of stark white lightning errupted from one of the mysterious boxes, it tore through our ranks bursting half a dozen men like gourds, showering the rest of us with hot blood as the thunder sounded with deafening proximity, from that moment it was chaos. Some advancing, some retreating, and all helpless against the rain of destruction produced by the Nyagal's front lines. In a blind rage, I charged across the valley. I spotted out one of the Nyagal whose weapon had ceased firing and had commenced to whirring in protest, I piked him with my stolen pole-arm, his peculiar weapon discharged one final time as I set him down, liquidating the line of shooters to his right the last of whose weapon exploded with massive concussive force, enough to fling me against the Nyagal to the left of the one I took out. I managed to struggle to my feet first and liberate my foe of the bizarre armament The mechanism for firing was little different from a crossbow or, the conscious part of my mind thought, a musket. I cut several paths of death through the Nyagal forces, those not directly struck were cut up by the burst fragments of their comrades' metallic armor. I saw their general in the back he was dressed in steel scaled armor with red dyed fur. His helm was ornamented with boar tusks on the cheek guards, ram horns on the sides and goat horns on the top, his face was covered by a red cloth he carried none of the strange weapons of the frontline combatants, instead all he carried was a twisted wooden staff topped with what seemed to be the skull of some unspeakable beast, equal parts baboon antelope and gazelle, with the fangs of a prehistoric tiger. I got a sudden vision of the thing alive, charging across the valley toward me, glistening red and blue muscles bulge out amid its grey and black fur, whipping its bifurcated prehensile tail, and shaking its horned mantle with massive toothy jaw, as it roars the sky appears to shatter revealing a cold and cloudless night behind the day, then shatter again the stars fell away in plates revealing a bright blue day with scattered white clouds and a massive pale yellow sun, that did not sting the eyes to look upon, this too shattered in the space of the roar, the pieces faded away, ultimately giving way to the vermilion dregs of dawn the vision of the beast also faded and the general pressed his twisted staff into the soil as effortlessly as pressing a straight stake into soft loam. I aimed the deadly alien object at him and compressed the firing mechanism no sound of thunder no flash of blinding light, he did not explode. Instead I fealt, more than heard, the same whirring that had previously afforded me my opportunity to attack. Their general, however did not take advantage of the window to rush me and loose his dagger, instead he waved his hands over the blasphemous devil beast skull staff, and began to dance, waving his arms from side and bouncing at his bent knees, concealing his face behind his elbows at the extreme of each swing, all at once red flames seemed to surround him, twisting and crackling, as the flames reached a zenith, he stopped dancing and let them whirl around him as he placed his left hand upon the staff and raised his right to the sky, a tiny star began to coalesce in the palm of his right hand. I compressed the firing mechanism again this time a beam of light did issue forth with a thunderous clash but it reflected off the red flames as easily as sunlight off a mirror and struck the ground a meter in front of me, knocking me off my footing, as the star in his hand grew he chanted, "Ayah ayah ghashtathoc Nayar-Lat-Hotep bhas bhas vheed vis yeet!" The star swallowed all the red flames from around him and the star seemed to keep getting bigger and bigger, swallowing him, of course it wasn't, it was getting closer to me, I knew as I fealt the brightness and heat of its rays overtake me.

I awoke to the sunlight streaming in my bedroom window and set to work at once on this entry. Often I worry the nature of my dreams recorded in this journal might call into question my efficacy as a prosecutor, nonetheless I am compelled to record them, I cannot help but feel that this dream may have been inspired by the events of yesterday morning.

Yesterday, February, tenth, fifteen hundred and five Anum Thazzodesic, I was called upon to prove one Maurice Blackwell a witch. He was not the first accused witch I had prosecuted, and I doubt he'll be the last. What is a witch, really, but someone that somebody wants dead? I just facilitate the process by stating, loudly, whichever excuses the witchfinder helped the accusor contrive. I don't believe the magistrate or the crowd care what those excuses are, or how improbable they are, they just want to see someone hang.

The courtroom was full to capacity nearly every man in the settlement were packed into the benches, most of the rest, along with several women and children, in fact, only the miller and his family were absent, which was not at all conspicuous, as the mill was a good ways out of town, the miller says too many buildings nearby block out the wind, and I can take his word on it. Besides, if I had a daughter like his, I would take steps to keep her far from young men like my son. The defendant was bound and sat fidgeting clinkingly in his restraints, his barrister grimaced and smirked uncomfortably the magistrate had yet to arrive, the crier stood in front of his bench and read aloud from a scroll, "Gentlemen, today we are here to find cause with a witch, whose filthy kind degrade our society.  The accused is Mister Maurice Blackwell, a Jacobite name if ere I Heard one, who as you all know had a wife last year, and this year she is no longer among us. Presenting the argument for his defense is local advocate Chuck Brinig, and representing you, the good people of Rocksmouth, your district prosecutor, Willyrd P. Johnson." After a momentary pause he proceeded. "All rise, please, for your honorable magistrate Harcord Harold Henrys." Everyone rose quickly to their feet, except for the defendant, who's restraints may've forbade him rising. Magistrate Henrys entered the court from the Judge's prep-room,  carrying his heavy gavel that better resembled a staking mallet than one of the flimsy tack pushers used in the king's courts. I recalled a dream I once had in which I was myself, and the witchfinder accused a woman as a vampire, and magistrate Henry's drove a wooden stake into the accused with his gavel on the spot, in the courtroom. As unrealistic as the particulars of the scenario may be, I have no doubt but the hammer would stand up to the use, and the Magistrate himself was brawny enough to facilitate its employment in such an endeavor. My wife once joked that she wondered whether he was compensating for something, later she reported that she had repeated the same jest in private company with Mrs. Henrys, who assured her the gavel was rather more of an understatement. "Be seated!" The crier declared as the Magistrate settled into his bench. All were at once seated, but for the crier, the bailiffs, and one other man, Reverend Denham Mallow, the witchfinder.

"I have new evidence, your honour." Mallow declared "This object, retrieved from the home of the accused in the company of warranted officers." Mallow held up a small tin box with a red cross painted on it, the paint was worn and chipped in places, bare shiny metal showing through in spots. Any other man would have been called to order for such a disruptive display, but not the witchfinder, Reverend, lawyer, doctor of Christian theology, associate fellow of eastern studies, son of the revered Witchfinder General, Marshal Mallow. Actually when our magistrate called for a witchfinder he expected Marshall himself, despite the young reverend being his second choice, Magistrate Henrys always gave due reverence to the witchfinder, even permitting him to make of the court a near circus.

"You may approach the bench, witchfinder Mallow." Harcord announced, showing signs of repressed annoyance.

"Approach the bench!" The crier parroted. I don't even think I know that man's name, how often do I think of wringing his neck? More, perhaps than would be considered healthy.

The witchfinder brought the box up to the front of the courtroom. "This will be highly pertinent to the testimony of the accuser." He proclaimed. A bailiff took it from him and set it on the evidence table. "Your honor, may we bring forth the accuser now?"

"By all means, witchfinder, summon the plaintiff to the stand." Magistrate Henrys conceded, with a tone of un-abated authority.

"Come forth, Ibram Merrit!" declared Mallow.

"The court calls Ibram Merrit  to the stand!" cried the crier, only slightly louder than the witchfinder.

My Hearth's Warming Doll fell right into the fire. I tried to save it, but I singed my hoof, it hurt real bad, there was nothing I could do but watch the flames devour my poor little Hearth's Warming Doll, there was nothing anypony could do as the flames tore into the blue fabric engulfing the white cotton stuffing in seconds turning it all black then glowing red, orange, back to black, grey, and then dust. And as the fire consumed the doll I felt colder and colder until I froze solid, I didn't thaw out until Spring. And that's what happens if your Hearth's Warming Doll falls in the fire. True story.

DISCLAIMER: This is a fictional story, any resemblance to real pesrons or circumstances would be highly disturbing, so I hope that no such resemblance exists. Within this story, the story Marana, by Adia Crozer will be quoted in part, or in it's enetirety more than once. This story will also make direct reference to the story TOP HAT, by Matthew Friedman and Andrew Zolenski. Furthermore some characters in this story are based on the personalities, and using the first names, of real people who I do not know personally and do not claim to have an intimate understanding of how they might truly react in any given situation. It goes without saying that I do not own any of these characters, they are owned by their respective creators my intention here is to build on an existing mythos.

The Return of Marana

It had been two weeks since I moved into the neighborhood, in the house at the corner of Cinnamon Street and Wyard Lane; two blocks north of La Cienega Drive, a fact that I was barely aware of, nor would the dreadful significance of that fact dawn on me, until it was too late. I've never put too much stock in urban legends let alone suburban legends, but I've always allowed for that element of the unexplained, however, even the most seriously strange cases I've looked into do not begin to approach the oddities which unfolded in the following weeks after my move to the house at the corner of Cinnamon and Wyard.

As I indicated it was two weeks after I moved into the house that I first heard that... I'm not sure  what to call it, story? Legend? Hogwash? Whichever of these I may choose, I would include adjectives denoting the frivolity of said... I'm not sure what to call it, so I won't go down that road again. If I had known at that time how serious and unfrivolous the warning was I may not have brushed it off so lightly. Or perhaps, lacking the knowledge I now possess, I may have guffawed at the ridiculous fable, as I must have felt it deserved at the time. As you will learn however, this dread cautionary tale is, in fact, no laughing matter.

 On the morning of April 7th Ethan, a neighborhood kid I'd met the previous day, when he delivered my newspaper, was mowing my front lawn on his, or his parents, riding mower. He had advertised his lawn mowing services when he'd brought the paper to my door, which was probably his usual scheme, I really didn't mind because he charged a reasonable price, and the only lawnmower I owned was an old-style mechanical push mower, which I'd found in the garage when I moved in.

  Having completed a gridwise sweep of my yard the kid came up to the porch and knocked on the door, where I was already standing, since I'd gotten up from my breakfast as soon as I heard the mower's engine cut out. And could see him approaching the porch from the dining room window. I opened the door after his second knock, he pawed the air with his fist, attempting a third, then cocked his head to the side and blinked rapidly six or eight times.

"Whatcha think, mister?" he glanced over his shoulder at his handiwork as he finished his question, I think he did so as a means of gesturing for me to take a look at the lawn.

I surveyed the yard quickly, "Great" I said indifferently, "You did a great job." I tried to sound a little more spirited, but it came out sounding a bit contrived. It wasn't that he hadn't done a good job, he had, as far as I could tell. I'm just not really a morning person, and hadn't had but a sip of my coffee yet.

He held out his hand expectantly, I had already counted out the cash and had it waiting in my pocket, so I forked it over. He counted it out himself, before stuffing it into his own pocket, in a haphazard wad. "You're new to this neighborhood, right mister?" he asked squinting at me. He had asked me the same exact thing, the same exact way, before advertising his services as a teenage lawnmower the day before. I don't think he forgot. I would conjecture he was just re-confirming, or maybe condescending...

"Yeah." I nodded my head as I said it. I imagined myself repeating the action like some kind of talking bobblehead with my curly cockscomb flapping as I nodded faster and faster. I almost laughed outloud at my own pointless imaginings.

"Have you heard about Marana?" he asked, almost gravely.

"Um... I don't think... Wait, isnt that, like, a town in Arizona?" I furrowed my brow skeptically.

"I dunno... Maybe..." he scratched his head. "But there's a girl named Marana that used to live down on La Cienega."

"What about her?" the furrows, which had never left my brow, deepened.

"She is a seventeen foot tall woman with fingernails that touch the floor. She murdered her family and friends when she was twelve. Now she walks the swamps, with blood dripping from empty eye sockets, crying for her beloved dog Carmel." All this he said in a serious and authoritative tone, as though the the nonsense he had just rattled off were a statement of incontrovertible fact. I waited for a change in his expression, there was none, he looked like a stone-cold homicide detective who'd just given a bleak testimony describing his arrival at a grizzly crime scene.

  Since he didn't crack up I did, almost doubling over as I let out a roaring cacophony of cachinnation. Still laughing, I started trying to catch my breath supporting myself with my hands on my knees. As I looked up to see Ethan had turned his head slightly so he could look at me sideways, scowling as he gave me a palpably cold staredown, scowling like Adolf Hitler after realizing someone pissed in his Coca-Cola. I stopped laughing.

"It aint no joke, mister!" The boy was obviously annoyed, but I couldn't see why, to me it seemed like my reaction to the string of nonsense he'd just uttered was perfectly natural.

  "I'm sorry," I offered the sincerest apology I could muster, "but... Really? Seventeen feet tall?" I whistled through my teeth as I shook my head slowly.

  "That's what I said." His tone was still as grave as a headstone.

  "You do realize that's taller than any person in recorded history, right?" I couldn't help sounding more than a little facetious.

  "Not everything that happens gets recorded in history." he had me there, I did have something of an affinity for unexplained phenomenon, so I knew that the realm of possibility stretched well beyond the standard consensus. This sounded like a tall tale though, or some absurd copypasta from the interwebs.

  "And her dog's name," I went on, trying to sound more curious, and less snyde, "Caramel?" I smirked as I spoke the word, and my eyes widened and rolled involuntarily afterwards.

  "No, Carmel," he corrected, "Cee Ay Ar Em Ee El."

  "Well that's even sillier," I refrained from saying out loud, instead I said, "Okay. You seem pretty sure about all this, but why are you telling me all this?"

  He swallowed nothing, as though it were an unchewed chunk of something. "Just be careful, man, she's still out there. My friend, Fred, says his friend, Danny, saw her once, all seventeen feet of her, mostly legs, scrapin' her nails along the sidewalk down by La Cienega. Folks say she likes to pick on newcomers. So just watch your back, and your sides, and your front, for that matter."

  We shook hands, said goodbye, and he walked back to his mower and drove off, as I walked back to my cold Eggs Benedict, and sub-luke-warm coffee. "theres just no way..." I muttered to my breakfast, which was characteristically unresponsive, so I ate it, with all the voracity of Winston Smith downing the regulation Ingsoc party lunch.

  Most of the day passed relatively un-eventfully, I lost another good chunk of my faith in humanity making my hundred somethingth video on the depressingly mind-numbing garbage that people post online, and let me tell you, this one was a real doozy, maybe not my funniest or most depressing to date, but having not done one in a couple weeks... Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah... (¡-!) No. (((^~^))) I have lost all faith in humanity. This is official I'm officially saying it, again. Except those of you who subscribe to my channel, like, thumbs-up, and favorite every single one of my videos ever made, if it was made before you were born your parents probably shouldn't be letting you watch my videos, so shame on them, unless it's, like, the future, in which case, far out man, but why are you watching this old ass shit? Find some new shit, some relevant shit, people have probably gotten stupider, I almost guarantee it. Maybe, hopefully they've gotten smarter, but hey no way of knowing. Right?

  While my video was uploading I received a text message containing a story I recognized, almost instantly. The message began, "BEWARE MARANA" then, after a double line break it said...

  "Shell is a 17 foot tall woman with fingernails that touch the floor she murdered her family and friends when she was 12 now she walks the swamps with blood dripping from empty eye sockets crying for her beloved dog carmel."

  The text came from one of those TextNow numbers, so of course I didn't recognize the number. At first I thought it was that kid Ethan, still trying to mess with me. The problem with that little hypothesis was that I hadn't given him my number, there'd been no need for it Since he probably surveyed the lawns on his paper rout and walked up and rang the doorbell to any house where the grass was ovegrown. I can't imagine who else would have been sending me Marana shit. Although, it seems like it would be more than a little redundant to send me prettymuch word-for-word what he'd already told me.

  Suddenly my front door began to rattle on its hinges. The wind? That's what I originally thought it was, but the persistence of the rattling, and the absence of accompanying wind sounds begged further investigation. Approaching the front door, I could see it shaking as it clattered, I noticed my heart pounding in time with the arrhythmic thumping. I reached out, taking hold of the leaver-stile Quikset handle, I could feel something repeatedly pushing on the door, near the bottom. After twisting the lock mechanism, with my left hand, the weigh of my right arm pushed the handle down. I pulled the door open quickly, ready to slam it if I had to. The elongated ball of mud and fur didn't give me time to react, instead it darted between my feet and into the hall behind me, loping like a mad jackrabbit, slinging clods of wet dirt in its wake.

  I still slammed the door, as I whirled around the pursue the small muddy animal. I was already pretty sure by that time that it was some kind of small dog. Although, when I saw its face for the milliseconds that I did, I swear it looked like some kind of demon. As I chased after the horrendous little thing, I slipped on it's mud trail careening into my hallway endtable and knocking over my cheap replica Ming vase, which I ironically caught and set back up safely, and the chase was on once more. Every time the little mutt changed direction it it stopped and skidded into a turn then started running again whalloping clods of mud in every direcction. At one poinr it scampered under my dining table I sliped agan and slid hafway under the table, bonking my head in the process and streaking mud up my pants. Mud that I now noticed reaked of sulfer.

  After pulling myself out from under the table, getting mudd on the back of my shirt in the process I saw the capricious canine tresspasser attemting to mount the carpeted stairs, I grabbed it by the scruff, and... A collar!

  "No, no, no." I waved my finger, "Not in my house!" For a moment the little dog struggled and thrashed in my grip, flinging mud on me, the walls, and the carpet I was trying to protect. The it stiffened up and just snarled lettingvout low slow gutteral growls. "Let's get you cleaned up, shall we, I bet somebody's missing you." I brought the dog to the downstairs bathroom and to the tub, still holding onto the dog with my right hand I held the flexible showerhead with my left and rinsed off the sulfrous mud, in spite of the tony critter's ptotests, as the coat of mud disolved away the distinctive long hair, large pointed ears, and supple frame of a papillon became aparent, its hair was white, black, and reddish brown, woven into long distickt dreadlocks that almost made it lopk like a hedgehog, or some nameless sea creature. But this dog had a name... I examined the collar which was old, with patches of loose thread all about, hevily sunbleached from its original purple and green textile patten to a pale yellow and blue on the back, and infused in every cranny with black sand from the bog mud, there wre two tags, one oval shaped, with vaccination info... From 8 years ago! The other was a bone shaped tag with a name on it the name on the tag read, "CARMEL"

  It had to be some kind of sick joke, that's all I could figure. But who would go to all that trouble? After Getting as much mud out as reasonably posible I set the dog down in the tub and quicly slid shut the sloding glass door. As the dog who's tag labeled it as Carmel shook its dreadlocked fur, I was showered with a cascade of droplets that somehow made it over the 7 foot high frosted glass wall.

   I decided to leave mongrel in the tub to dry off, while cleaned up after its mudslinging rampage. Around the time I finished cleaning up the mud, actually I hadn't quite finished yet, I got a call from my friend Justin.

    "Yo, Rob. I just got this new game, Beware Mister Tophat. It's this Indi horror title for PS3. We gotta play this thing for your gaming channel, man. It's supposed to be ptetty sick."

    "Gee I dunno, are we talking sick, rad, or sick, disgusting." I inquired quizically.

    "I dunno, bro, I didn't ask. Both probably? Anyway You know I can't play it myself I get to scared with horror games to play right. That's why it has to be you playing, and me reacting to the spoops." Justin did have a tendancy to shriek and jump out of his seat, or release histrionic shreaks at the scares in games and movies. I have always believed he just does it to make a spectacle of himself.

    "You know Pewdipie does both, right?" I jabbed.

    "Yeah... Well we ain't him." Justin put on a heavy fake southern drawl. "We're Amerkin'!"

    "We're a pubic wig?" I knew what he was trying to say. But I just had to mess with him on that one.

    "What?! Your beard is pubic wig maybe!" He had to go there.

    "Hey watch it, buster this beard is internet famous."

    "Yeah, so's my bare, biny, lasty white ass, but I don't go bragging about it." Nice one...

    "Well I'm pretty busy this evening, but I'd be down to do that letsplay video... tomorrow afternoon?" I still had to figure out ehat to do wit my strange quadrapedal guest. Probbly take it to the animal shelter in the morning.

  "Cool, man, you won't regret it... I think. I've never actually played the game, but the guy on the streeet corner who sold it to me out of his trench coat pocket says it's pretty legit." I hung up the phone and resumed cleaning the oderiferous black mud out of my hall and kitchen. And, as best I could, out of the carpeting on my steps. By the time I was ready to give up on the the stairs I heard a crash of glass shattering from the bathroom.

I rushed to the door and stopped grasping the rounded brass knob. I started to slowly push the door open, creaking lightly on it's hinges. What I saw confirmed my worst fears, the dready little rat dog was drapped bloody, shreadded and motionless over the edge of the tub. The sight made me jump back in stark terror, slamming the door shut before me.

I stood there tasting a coppery twinge of unreasoning dread. For some illogical reason, I thought to myself, "She'll blame me! Marana will blame me for what happened to her dog!" But just as I was about to plumet into abyssal despair I heard the last thing I expected to hear in that moment, a yip. Excited, almost happy by the sound, but how?

Tentativly, I grasped the knob, slowly I turned it as far as it let me, and started to push th door open instinktively my eyes shut themselves against the impending horror of seeing an injured animal clinging to life. When I forced my eyelids open I was shocked to find my frosted glass shower door completely intact I could see Carmel's matted form blurred by the milky screen, thecfloor was littered with curved shards of crystal clear glass, and the thick bottom from the glass I used for brushing my teeth.

The dog yipped again and jumped up in a spiral. "Hang on little guy," I assured, I'll get you out of there, after I sweap up this mess. As I went to get the whisk broom I noticed several spots I missed cleaning up the mud, but I'd have to deal with that later...

The Confession Of Geoffry Theodore Keller

So, no shit, there I was. About to fulfil the American dream, at least according to Homer Simpson in that one Treehouse Of Horror episode, are those even cannon? Beside the point. The point is, I was about to kill my boss. He gave me my two weeks notice a week before, but that wasn't why, no there was a lot more to it.

I didn't decide to kill him right away when he started having sex with my wife in front of me. She seemed to enjoy it and had never complained. When he started making me suck him off so he could get hard and go another round with her, it didn't bother me. It was just one of those things... When he started piling his paperwork onto my work-load and not paying me overtime for the extra hours it took me to finish it, I admit I felt a little insulted. When I asked him about the possibility of a raise and he told me he'd rather fire me, that did piss me off, but not to the point where I'd kill a man.

Honestly I wasn't angry. I was calm, I suppose part of me always wanted to kill someone who happened to be my boss, so that gave me a limited time to kill Greg Keffre while he was still my boss. I'd never killed anyone before, but if I had excuse enough to off anyone it was Greg.

Getting into Greg's house was easy, almost too easy his wife, Candilaria, was home alone, she likes to fool around. She let me in and we had fun for a few hours, she hid me in a closet as her husband was getting home, it was too perfect. I watched them go at it until they finally passed out.

I could have just snuck out of the house and slunk off into obscurity, but if I'd done that you probably wouldn't be reading this. I crept into the kitchen, so many potentially deadly objects to choose from, but I settled on a heavy stainless steel tenderizer. I shuffled, ever so quietly, back to the bedroom.

Greg was sleeping so peacefully, just like some dumb schmuck who had no idea he was about to get his skull caved in by a homicidal maniac. If I really face the facts, it wasn't about any kinnd of revenge. I just wanted to kill... I feel weird about feeling okay with that, but I do. I raised the metal block of a hammer high in the air above my head, and brought it down on his head, his eyes shot open and he gurgled, ineffectually. I could thell he died on the first hit, but I struck twice more to be sure. The third hit splashed his blood on Candi's face and she woke up, she saw me standing there with the bloody tenderizer and started screaming up a storm, like she didn't expect this. Thwack! I hit her with the hammer, and down she went, with one blow. Thrack! With my second blow I felt her skull give way. That really shouldn't feel so satisfying, but it does.

I got my clothes back from the closet I'd been hiding in and got dressed. I decided to take the hammer to the sink where I left it unter running water pushing the lever up with the back of my hand. Was that enough to wash away fingerprints? Did I even care? How many other places did I leave fingerprints? How many dozens of other ways are rhere to trace that I'd been there? I don't think I planned that far ahead.

Someone was planning ahead though. Someone was watching my every move. Someone was snickering over my amateurish foibles. I thought I was all that for killing a defenseless couple in their sleep, but, as I stepped into the hallway from the kitchen, someone burst through the front door, he was a slender muscular man of indeterminate age, in black pants and a white hooded sweatshirt, but honestly the most striking thing about him was his bizarrely mutilated face. He looked like a car accident victim, or a burn victim. Like that lady with the Mr. Potatohead face, or Tom Cruise in Vanilla Sky. His skin was milk pale all over, and fairly devoid of features, his big, glassy looking eyes were lidless and apparently bloodshot, his cheeks were cut into with an upward curve which gave him a permanent sinister grin, his whole face was framed with a shock of ragged coal black hair that almost seemed more like fur. A face I'm not likely to forget for as long as I live. The second most strining thing about him was the improbably shiney eight inch buck knife he was casually tossing back and forth between his hands. His stance was low and wide, I remember thinking that he was like a wild beast, but in the few seconds it took me to think that I was too slow to react, in one fluid motion the knife fluttered from his right hand into his left and from there darted directly into my right side, he pressed it in with the heel of his palm as my flesh seemed to simultaneously pull it in, likewise my flesh spat it out as he gently took hold of it and withdrew it.

"Go to sleep!" He commanded. The p at the end of sleep was more like a throaty k accented by a click of his teeth, that must not have decreased the effectiveness of the command, however, because go to sleep is exactly what I did.


A Tale Of Too Many Jeffs

Of all the damned things, I woke up. I couldn't open my eyes, because they were already open, I couldn't close them, because... Why the hell couldn't I close them?!

There was a burning pain in my right side. Oh, yeah, that's rught, I got stabbed. I was looking up at an unfamiliar ceiling, my first thought was hospital, but why couldn't I close my eyes? I looked around there was a bare concrete wall to my right, my mouth felt so dry, and my cheeks ached, my whole face ached the more I moved my head. There was another bed to my left, I was in a bed, with a heavy steel frame, and there was one across the room that matched it. There was a sink with a mirror on the back wall, and a metal door with a mesh reinforced hexagonal window at the foot. And in the other bed was another person covered by a blanket. I couldn't tell if it was a hospital room, or a cell, or what. It was bright in the room, but there were no windows, save that in the door, or lightbulbs, or flourescents, or any other discernable light source.

I held up my hands, they looked unnaturally pale, and, examining them more closely I found that I had no fingerprint definition, not just on the tips of my fingers, but all the way down my fingers and palms... Impossible... I rubbed the souls of my feet together, I could tell instantly they had undergone the same glossy smooth transformation as my hands. I peeled the sheets aside, I was dressed in a white T shirt and boxers, which reminded me of LDS garments. Was I in a Mormon hospital/jail? That's what I asked myself. It would explain the overlying odor of warm stale gingerale... The floor was smooth concrete painted maroon. I sat up and put my feet down on it. The floor was warm to the touch, and pulsated with vague fluidity. Radiant heating, I presume. The pain in my side was noticible, but less than it aught to've been I lifted my shirt, and foud a token bandage wrapped loosely around me, I hooked my thumbs under it, stretched it away from me a bit and saw my wound, which was already more scar than scab, it was only then I mentally noted the observation that I had no body hair. Not on my arms, legs, chest, back, I reached my left hand in my shorts to be sure, not even any trace of stubble, I reached up my sleeves, finding the same to be true of my uncharacteristically dry armpits. I fealt around the hair on my head, it felt surprisingly bristly. As my fingers started to touch the edges of my face, it fealt so odd, I had to see it. With some effort I got up and faced the mirror.

I don't know how you'd react in my situation, but what I saw horrified me. Staring back at me from the mirror was the face of the man who stabbed me. Well, not quie, it was my face, only it wasn't, but it is. My nose was gone, no excuses, no traces left behind, just gone, I could feel air draw in and if I covered two distinct spots, in the middle of my face I couldn't inhale through my non-nose. That just caused air to rush in between my cheeks, which were opened up in a gastly JackO'lantern grin, I could bring my lips together, but my extended lips hung open in grotesque mockery of the effort. My eyelids were blackened ovals around my bloodshot eyes, my furrowed brow was hairless, all the way across. My hair was not as long as my attacker's, but had taken on the same fur like quality. Had he done this to me somehow? My features stood out more, unless I relaxed my face, which under the circumstances was more effort than tensing up. I sneered at my reflection, wondering why my eyes didn't feel dry, if I couldn't close them. I put a fingertip up to my right eyeball, wincing in expectance of pain. But I barely felt it. It was just like putting my finger to my eyelid. It felt like smooth plastic, but most things felt like smooth plastic to my newly smoothed fingers. But I found I could press and move my eyeball, and feel my eye moving underneath a surface, like an artificial lense. My occular cogetations were interrupted by the loud yawn of my roomate who suddenly sat up, threw his sheets aside, and stretched his arms up over his head.

My roomate had the same Mormon uderwear as me seeing him at first from the back I could tell he was pale, like me, like the man who stabbed me. His hair was long, but it looked stringy and greesy and did not have that same fur like quality. As he got up I whirled around, his face was somwhat different the cuts into his cheeks looked thinner, were we somehow both victims of the same madman?

He stumbled out to where he could see the feet of the beds. "So, you're Jeff Keller?" He inquired. I looked at him in a way that should have been quizzical, but with my realigned features I'm not sure what it was. I've never gone by Jeff in my life. But instead of saying anything I strode to the foot of my bed, where a chart hung, the name on it read Jeff T. Keller.

"I guess so." I breathed.

"I'm Jeff Hodek," he extended, smooth white hand. I glanced at his chart, which had the name Jeff K. Hodek at the top. "Judging from how you carry yourself, you must be new. You're lucky you got roomed with me, it's my third time back on the farm."

"Farm?" I shook the extended member, blankly.

"Oh of course!" He exclaimed, "you don't know anything about it. Don't worry you'll figure it all out." I was not necessarily affected by his confidence. In fact I was more frightened than ever of wherever I was.

My roomate oppened a steel chest at the foot of his bed and removed black dress pants, socks, and slip on shoes, and a white stitched together hoodie and doned them, I retrieved and reuctantly equipped the same garb from an identical chest at the foot of my bed.

"Watch out, Nubi," he warned, "Someone's gonna try to punk you for that name"

I wanted to ask something about the inigmatic statement, anything, but my hought process was interrupted by a sound like many ringing alarm clocks, I couldnd't see any alarm clock in the room/cell, or any kind of clock. The door swung open, soundless apart from the initial click.

"Breakfast!" My roomate declared. I could already see a train of identically dressed, and mutilated men moving down the hall as he beconned me out to join the throng.

I fealt a familliar sense of givving in surrendering my free will to the mob. I could not resist. I let go my reservations. Like always, I'm nothing but a cuck, a drone, and a puppet. And so sat I, a voyour, watching my own puppet show unfold. I watched myself join that river of smiling faces, marching like uniformed cadets, arrowed signs the crowd was following read MESS HALL ➡ I don't know why. It just all seemed so goddamn silly. I really couldn't help myself, at first I started tittering, just like a happy puppet, then began laughing with increasing volume and maniacality.

"Whoa, hey," my roomat exclaimed, his eyes stretching into vertical ovals, "are you alright, Jeff, take a chill pill."

My cacodeamoniacal cackling came to a cacophonous crescendo, drowning out the footsteps, my roomate's cautionary comentaries, but not the liquescent mechanical hum, playing off my bones through the floor. My pace was slowed as I had to catch my breath. "Watch it!" Grunted some Jeff who bumped into my back and pushed past me.

"Seriously," my roomate went on, "Chill pill! Left inner pocket." He demonstrated produding a small ziplock baggie containing three blue gell caps from tge recesses of his left hoodie pocket and returning it there to demonstrate. I mecame aware of the shape of the pills inn my own pocket, against my abdomen, but I had no interest in swallowing some weird goop from this place, which reminds me, the general slowing of mass locomotion told me I was in line for breakfast.

Case File No.56

It was just your typical Seattle day – light and dark gray clouds intermingling together, sprinkling throughout the day, wind blowing near constantly.
I was sitting in mine and Anna’s office when the Boss came in and dropped two huge boxes on my desk, nearly spilling my cup of coffee all over my keyboard.
He walked out of the room and left me to the case. I wiped off the few drops of coffee that made it onto my suit. I sighed. You would think more boxes would mean an easier case to solve – more evidence, easier to find suspect – but no. Generally speaking, the more boxes the Boss handed me the more work I had ahead of me.
My partner, Anna, wouldn’t be pleased either. I sighed and sipped my coffee for a few unfortunately short minutes, staring at the boxes in front of me. After much internal bargaining, I stood up and opened the first box and peered inside. It was full of DVDs, journals, crime scene photographs, physical evidence – hair, bits of flesh, nails, blood samples. This already looked like it was going to be one of the most gruesome cases of the year.
I looked at the clock and decided to take the boxes home and organize them. I left the office building and walked out into the crisp autumn air. It struck me that not many people were out that evening. It was just after five o clock. Shouldn’t more people be getting off work? I reached my car, put the boxes on top of it, unlocked the door and piled in. I put the boxes on the passenger seat of my beat up car and started the drive home.
I got home around 5:45, after stopping to get some food for dinner. I made myself tacos and sat down in front of the television. I ate quickly, watched my favorite comedy show – King of the Hill. I would need something funny to get me through these boxes. I emptied the contents out onto the table in front of me. I noticed there were photos from three different crime scenes, so I started by organizing everything by victim.
Why it wasn’t in the first place, I wasn’t sure at that point. But as I started going through everything, I had an idea why. It was all so gruesome. No one would want to deal with this. Maybe that’s why me and Anna got the case. We were the best detectives there. Stomachs of steel. Everyone probably assumed we would be able to cope with it. Looking through it though, I wasn’t sure we could. It wasn’t like we had a choice though. People were dying and Anna and I were assigned the case, so we had to end it.
After organizing everything by victim, I started on the pile with the earliest dates. I picked up the first of many photographs and gulped as I examined the picture. What was left of the body was mangled. As if someone…had been eating it, ripping pieces of its flesh off, tearing it to bits. The body was lying in a bed. The white sheets were soaked with fresh looking blood.
They were ripped in places, like the person had struggled. I couldn’t even tell if it was a man or a woman. The body was too destroyed. I thought it was a woman because the hair on the head was long, but everything was too mangled and bloody to tell. The chest was torn to pieces, the ribs were broken, sticking out, the heart was missing, three fingers were gone, the nose was gone, the eyes were lying on the floor. I could hardly bear to look.
Not wanting to look at the pictures anymore, I picked up the journal they’d collected and put in the box. I opened it and flipped to the last entry.
"11/3/12, 8:50 PM. I don’t know how much longer I can take this. I’m scared all the time. Paranoid. Something’s always watching me, opening my doors and windows whenever I’m asleep. I’m sure I’ve developed insomnia. I just can’t sleep anymore. Oh God, someone help me. I’m going insane. Something’s going to get me, I just know it. Every day it’s the same thing. I can’t eat, I can’t sleep. My mom told me to go get help. I don’t want help, I want this THING to leave me alone! Oh God, I shouldn’t have written this. Now I’m just even more scared... I remember growing up I was always scared of what’s under the bed, behind the shower curtain, or waiting in bed next to you, waiting for you to roll over… that heaviness that you feel when you so desperately want to look behind you, but can’t bring yourself to move… None of those were ever as terrifying as this feeling I’m plagued with now… I know I’m going to die. Whoever reads this, you all know what I’m talking about. That overbearing paranoia and fear or your own imagination when you sit in a dark room, all by yourself…"
The writing was shaky and specks of blood covered the page, like it had opened while she was being murdered. They said they found it on the floor by the bed. I looked through some of the previous entries. A lot of the same. Paranoia, fear. Opening doors and windows. Feelings of being watched. I wondered what this thing was. Seattle is thought of as the hippie coffee drinking and pot smoking city, but considering how relaxed everyone sees us as, there’s a lot of crazy stuff that happens here. Washington is just serial killer central. It at least looked like that was what we had on our hands. Three killings in the same style – bodies torn to shreds… appearing to be eaten. I flipped to the first entry of the journal.
"11/1/12, 11:36 AM. My window keeps opening. They’re closed when I go to sleep, open when I wake up. Maybe it’s just an animal. A squirrel or something climbing around in the tree outside my window. I think I’ll set up a video camera tonight. Try to catch it. If I didn’t have to wear these stupid earplugs every night I could just wake up when it opens. It has a really bad squeak when you open it. If the baby would just stop crying long enough for me to get to sleep without ear plugs, I could find out what’s making my window open. Those darn neighbors."
The first entry in the journal was only three days before the last entry. Things escalated quickly after that. All the rest of the entries showed panic and fear. She was terrified after that first night of filming. It was getting hard for me to handle this, even with the canned laughter in the background. I packed up the boxes, being careful not to look at those damn pictures anymore and put the boxes aside. I’d just watch some TV for a while, take my mind off everything.
I woke up the next morning on the couch. My apartment was cold. I stood up from the couch, sore from a night of awkward sleep. I took a shower, got dressed, and left for the office, calling Anna while I drove. She said she’d be a little late, that she just woke up. I stopped at the Starbucks down the street from the office and got us both coffees. We really needed to get through all the contents of the boxes so we could start to think about who this sadistic killer was.
I took the boxes out of my car after I parked and stacked them on top of the trunk. I put the two cups of coffee on top of them and carefully carried them to our office. When I got to the office, it was cold there too. Colder than usual. I turned on the heat and took a sip of my coffee, leaving my suit coat on. Anna arrived ten minutes after I did and gratefully took the coffee.
“So what do we have?” she asked.
“I don’t know if you want to know,” I said, trying to sound light-hearted.
“Oh, please,” she said, chuckling. “We can handle anything.”
I sighed and opened the boxes for her. I pulled out the pictures from the first crime scene and showed them to her. She gasped as she looked at them. I saw tears well up in her eyes as she put her hand to her face and grabbed the photo. I’d shown her the only picture I looked at thoroughly. I could understand her disgust.
“What kind of sick…freak…can do this sort of thing to someone?” she said, more quietly than usual. “This psychotic nut job stole her heart! He tore her to shreds! What…who can do that?”
“I don’t know, Anna. I was wondering those same things last night,” I said. “I only looked at that picture before I couldn’t do it anymore. After that I started reading through the journal the first victim had been keeping.”
I grabbed it out of the box and opened it to the first entry. I read it to her, and the few from the second day where she was starting to panic.
“What do you think? Could it be her ex? Whoever she and her ex are? She talks about something standing outside her window, so maybe he was stalking her.”
“It’s possible,” Anna replied. “But have all three of these victims dated the same man?”
“I don’t know.”
We kept going through the boxes. Hours dragged by all too slowly. We read the journals, all with no clues as to who this murderer was. We looked at the pictures, all so grotesque that we could hardly bare to look through them all. Every picture was of a different limb disconnected from the body and sprawled across the room, or of bits of torn off flesh and spattered blood around the crime scene. The blood and gut filled images were stained into our minds by the time lunch hour came. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to eat,” I said, almost joking, as we walked out of our office to go get lunch. Anna laughed a little.
“I know what you mean. This is probably the worst case I’ve dealt with.” Over lunch we discussed theories. Who-dun-it type theories. But none of them really made sense. The ex idea could be plausible, but what was the likelihood of two women and 1man in a city as big as Seattle dating the same man? It could just be a serial killer, but why was he targeting these young people? Maybe they knew some of the same people, and one of those people happened to be psychopathic. There were just too many options to narrow it down this early in the investigation.
After the last few hours of work, Anna took one box holding one case home, and I took the other two. I was going to watch the DVDs they’d found on the scene. I got home and made myself some dinner and sat down on the couch. After eating, I popped in the DVD labeled “Night 1” and watched. I fell asleep ten minutes in though. Woke up the next morning, almost late again. I made my way back to the office as fast as I could and told Anna I’d fallen asleep and didn’t manage to get through the whole thing. She said it was okay, that we could watch one or two of them then. We situated ourselves around my computer and put in the first disc.
Nothing much happened, except the near constant cries of a baby. We fast forwarded through the first few hours, but stopped when we saw something strange. Someone – something – crawled up the tree outside her window and sat there, unmoving. All we could see was a black silhouette of a strange figure.
We went to one of the briefing rooms where there was better tape evidence viewing equipment. We hooked everything up and got back to where we were in the tape, and zoomed in as far as we could, but we still couldn’t make the figure out clearly. It appeared to have something on its wrist as it opened the window. We assumed it was man based on how huge the hand was. For the whole video, he sat at the window, staring at the woman. Just staring. It looked like he was mumbling to himself violently. Like he was battling with two voices in his head. Near dawn, he jumped out of the tree he was perched in, startling the woman awake. Anna looked at me in horror when the video ended. I didn’t know what to say so I just nodded at her.
“I’ll take the rest of the tapes and watch them tonight,” I said, sparing her sanity. “Go home. Take a break.” She nodded at me and stood up to leave. I followed her. Even though it was still only lunch hour, I went home, DVDs and soda in hand, to watch the videos before the Christmas party. Definitely not an activity that encouraged holiday spirit, but what could I do.
I walked into my apartment, dropped the DVDs and soda down on the couch and went to make a sandwich. When I came back into the living room area, the window was open. I didn’t remember opening it. I tried to brush it off as nothing, but after watching the DVD of the first night of filming, I was starting to become paranoid. Maybe this thing would come after me, since I was assigned the goal of capturing him. Maybe he didn’t want to be captured and would kill everyone who would try. These thoughts ran through my head and made me more and more paranoid with every second. I shoved them out of my mind and closed the window, making sure to lock it.
I ate my sandwich quickly, gulped down some soda to wake me up, and put on the next DVD. It started off the same, except the woman had left a candle lit by the window. Probably so she could see who was there. It didn’t help me much though. I could make out what looked like bracelets dangling off his wrists, clanking whenever he moved. He pressed his hands and face pressed against the locked window. I couldn’t make out any eyes, hair, or a human face… All I could see was a nose, which looked broken, and a mouth, that looked severely chapped. The whole video progressed the same way the first had.
He stood there till dawn, watching, muttering. I wished I could see what he was. But at the same time, I didn’t. Just from his outline he looked grotesque. The second video ended with the creature leaving just like he had the night before.
I remembered reading that on the third day the woman had called the police. I didn’t remember anyone telling me someone had called, claiming to be being stalked by night or claiming someone was standing outside her windows at night. She also wrote in her journal that she called someone to come stay the night with her. During his interview, we found out he was her cousin. I know he found the body. He woke up to screaming in the middle of the night but claimed he couldn’t open the door in time to save her. He was held as a suspect in custody inside a mental hospital. The incident had caused severe mental damage. He refused to discuss the event and only muttered to himself. He was the second victim this killer had claimed.
I turned on all the lights in my apartment, becoming paranoid myself. Before I watched the next and last DVD, I opened up the woman’s journal again and read through the entries she’d written on her last day.
"11/3/12. 5:17 PM. I called the police. They won’t help me. They don’t believe me. They think I’m crazy. I tell them someone with something on its wrists and an ugly face keeps opening my windows and trying to open them if they’re locked, but they just don’t care. I called Bill and asked him to stay over tonight."
I put in the next DVD and prepared for what I was about to see. I don’t think anyone could successfully prepare themselves for that though. What I saw was beyond horrific. It wasn’t grotesque, it wasn’t horrifying, it wasn’t appalling… none of those words would suffice in describing the sights I had to sit through. The DVD started with her locking the windows and closing her curtains. Her cousin walked into the room and reassured her, rubbing her arm. “I’ll be in the next room,” he said to her. The woman nodded and he walked away. She lit two candles and put one next to her bed, and one by the window. We found them on the floor, both labeled “Vanilla Honey Stress Relief Candle.” The woman curled up under her blankets, facing towards the window.
A few hours passed with nothing happened. Even just fast forwarding through the DVD was suspenseful enough to make my heart race. I would fast forward for a few minutes, press play and watch for a few seconds, just in case the murderer came in. I didn’t want to miss it. Even though I did want to… At around 2 AM in the tape, I pushed play and went to the bathroom. As I closed the door, I heard a loud crash and ran back out into the living room, my fists raised. I looked around and saw no broken items. I started to hear loud thumps. I went to my door and looked through the peep hole, but no one was at my door or my neighbors. My heart was pounding even harder than it was. I went back into my living room and the thumping got louder. I looked at my TV screen and the camera was shaking. I knew this was it. I sat on my knees in front of my TV; my palms were sweaty; my hands were shaking; I felt I was going to puke, thinking about how she was about to die and I was the first to witness it.
The door opened slowly, eerily, opposite her bed. The man trudges into the room, dragging his feet. The door swings closed behind him, without him even touching it. He makes his way to the side of the woman’s bed, the side with the candle. The flame flickers as he moves closer and closer to her bed. His steps were loud and slow.
Thump…thump…thump… Finally, he makes it to her bed. He only looks at the camera for a split second before he turns his back and faces the woman. I’m not sure what I saw, but whatever it was it was disgusting. I couldn’t make out any eyes. His spine stuck out of his back, his whole body was naked, he was tall…6’ 5” probably…the bracelets on his wrists were not bracelets at all, but shackles with broken chains. He had them on his ankles too. No one mentioned this was a rape-murder. But with this naked man standing beside a woman’s bed, what else would I think? As he stands there I heard muttering in a low, menacing voice. I couldn’t make out what he was saying. He bent over, slowly, eerily, and lifted the woman’s hair, smelling it deeply.
She started to wake up, and rolled over mumbling “Bill? What are you doing?”
When she saw what was waiting for her, she screamed. After less than a few seconds, I heard pounding on the door and Bill yelling, screaming, begging to be let in, asking what was going on. But the door, which wasn’t barricaded, wouldn’t open. The woman starts panicking, struggling to get out from under her blankets and falls to the floor in the process. With speed that I didn’t think this creature or human could possess, he was then on top of the woman, ripping the woman’s fragile body into pieces.
He ripped and tore bits of skin off and threw them around the room. He was laughing, menacingly, getting progressively louder and more joyous as the woman died beneath him. I couldn’t see what was going on, but the sheer horror of the situation made my imagination run wild and made the situation even more terrifying. Soon, the woman stopped struggling.
The creature smiled as he tore her heart out of her broken chest and ate it. I didn’t see him do anything to her fingers, but seven of them were nowhere to be found when the CSI team arrived. The naked creature stood up and walked towards the camera.
I could finally see what this thing was as the candle light shown on his face. He had skin sewn over his eyes and the rest of him too was just bits of various skin sewn together to create a human like figure. His lips were chapped to the point of breaking and his nose was extremely crooked. He was bald. The blood all over his body made him even more nightmarish. He blew out the candle on the nightstand and laughed. Blood spat out of his mouth. He walked to the window and blew out the second candle. Breaking the window, he jumps out. All the while, Bill is screaming.
I sat in silent horror and began to hear thumping again. Terrified, I walked slowly around my house, searching for the source. I found nothing. The last room I checked was my bathroom. I opened my shower curtain and just as I did so, the bathroom light exploded, nearly giving me a heart attack.
“Okay,” I said to myself. “I need a break…just gonna go to the Christmas party now. Take my mind off this…” As I walked out the door, I thought of what this creature would be called. Stitch. Little did I know the horrors that awaited me in the weeks to come.

---

Case File No.57

I came home from the Christmas party unwillingly. I would’ve stayed at Anna’s, but her parents were in town. My little apartment was not nearly as welcoming as it used to be, in the days before this Stitch creature came around. I keep thinking I’m hearing thumping, or windows opening, and it’s freaking me out. But I came home anyway. Maybe I just needed a break from the case. Yeah. For Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday I didn’t touch those boxes once. The Boss handed me a couple cases of convenience store robberies that were easier to solve than a game of Clue. It was a nice distraction from all the gruesome imagery I’d been forced to see those past few days. But unfortunately Wednesday had to come and Anna wanted to work on the case. “The sooner we start working again, the sooner it’ll be over,” she said trying to convince me to work with her. I sighed and put the coffee I was drinking down on my desk. Anna had put all the second victim related evidence on a table in a conference room. It was the first victim’s cousin, the man who’d stayed with her the night she was murdered, Bill.
I looked at the pictures of the crime scene first. He’d been killed in his room at the mental hospital we’d been holding him at. The scene was just as bloody as that of his cousins, if not more. The walls were covered in bloody hand prints and the bars on the windows weren’t bent, meaning Stitch must’ve found another way into the building. There were two beds in the room, one for Bill and one for his roommate; both were messy and blood stained. The red stood out vividly on the pristine white sheets. When I got to the pictures of his body, there was only half. His legs were lying on the floor, bones sticking out and sitting in a pool of his blood. His white hospital clothing was no longer white, but blood red, like Snow White’s lips. My hands began shaking as I looked at more and more pictures of his mangled and missing body and the blood soaked room. I felt my heart beating faster, like I was panicking. I didn’t know why though. Why should I panic? Stitch couldn’t find me…
“So what do you think we should do? We don’t really have any leads on who this guy is,” Anna said, bringing me out of my terrified state. I pulled myself together so I wouldn’t scare my partner.
“I don’t know,” I replied. Honestly, I didn’t want to keep working on this case. But what choice did I have? I couldn’t just leave Anna to handle it by herself. I couldn’t convince the Boss to let us do something else. When a case got to us, it was because no one else could handle it and solve it. We were the top… I guess that’s what comes with being the best detectives in the office. Some detective I am though can’t even look at the pictures without shaking. I’ve been having nightmares too…
“I was thinking maybe we could go interview the mental hospital staff who worked with Bill. We should probably go over the security tape footage and journal entries first though. Didn’t they diagnose him as PTSD?” Anna said.
“Yeah. I only took two psychology classes in college, but I remember that with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder a lot of the times therapists will tell their patients to relive the event a lot of times, so it won’t cause them that overbearing stress… So I imagine that’s what his journal will be full of. Just retellings of the story to help ease his anxiety, but I dunno. We probably should look through it,” I said. I secretly hoped she’d watch the videos on her own and let me deal with the journals. But knowing her, knowing our jobs, that wasn’t likely.
“Do you want to look at videos or journals first?” she asked. I shrugged and took a gulp of my now cold coffee.
“Let’s do this then,” I said. God damn it, I thought to myself as she put the four discs into four DVD players. They were all different cameras from the same period of time. For a while we just fast forwarded. Bill stayed in his room, writing feverishly, while his fellow hospital patients wandered from room to room to common room. He only left when a nurse came to bring him to his therapy session with the leading psychiatrist of the hospital. As it started to get dark, the patients made their way to their rooms. Bills roommate walked into their room. Bill was still writing in his journal with a painful expression on his face. His roommate looked at him concerned. There was no sound, but we saw him say something along the lines of “Are you okay?” Bill looked over at him and told him to “Shut up before that thing found him too” or something. His roommate looked away and leaned against the wall his bed was against. He played with his thumbs for a while. Meanwhile, the nurses wandered the halls, locking the doors for the night, making sure everything was okay.
After about twenty minutes of that, Bill and his roommate laid down for the night and fell asleep. It was dark and we couldn’t see much. The camera started turning to static and the images on the screens kept becoming distorted. The screens all blacked out and we were waiting for anything to happen. When the image returned, Stitch was standing in the middle of the hallway. He trudged down the hallway, looking through every room’s door window to see if Bill was there. While he systematically wandered the hall, Bill sprang to life and rushed from window to door and back again, looking for what woke him.
Stitch stopped looking for Bill and appeared to sniff the air. He took a couple big sniffs then turned his head. His face was looking towards the camera. You could see his teeth. His mouth wasn’t fully closed. His teeth were vile. Black and yellow and green and every color that teeth shouldn’t be. He opened his mouth and a little bit of blood fell out. He kept moving his head back and forth. As if he was listening for something.
He walked straight to Bills room with determination in his steps and opened the door without touching it. Bill screamed, waking up his roommate. Bill flipped over on his side springing off of his bed. He grabbed what turned out to be his writing pencil. The cameras began to turn to static and cut out again. We could see bits and pieces of what was happening – both of the roommates running around, Bills roommate eventually ran out of the room and Bill had stabbed Stitch in his back. We’re not sure how, but Bills hand and the weapon just went straight through, pushing out darkened blood and random chunks onto the floor. It looked like he was struggling to get his arm back. As if his arm got stuck inside Stitch’s body. Stitch grabbed him by the hair and whipped him with his rusty shackles, breaking his skin.
After that, Stitch just stood there. Standing over Bill. Maybe it made him feel powerful? Well, could he even feel emotion? I don’t know. He stood above him while Bill screamed. I thought Stitch was raising his hand to strike or rip Bill’s flesh, but he didn’t. He rubbed his hands together, and then rubbed from his neck up to his face. And as fast as you could see a light turn on, his hand was on Bills face. He started rubbing it. Running his hand through his hair. Stitch started laughing at that point, and blood dripped on Bills face and clothes. It was then Stitch decided to attack. He tore bits of skin off his poor body and ate them like he’d never eaten before. He broke his body in half, just tore it in half, with inhuman strength. The blood started to really poor then. As all of Bills blood and guts spilled onto the floor, Stitch squatted down and started running his fingers along the edge of Bills skin where he ripped him in half. Stitch began eating his insides all the while it appeared he was laughing - just as he did in the first murder.
Stitch stood up and, well, just stood there. He stood there facing the corner until the morning sun started to peak in through the bars on the windows. He was mumbling to himself but since there was no audio in the security cameras, we couldn’t make out what he was saying without bringing in someone who could read lips.
I didn’t hear Anna making any sounds. I wondered if I was the only one having a hard time with this case. I looked over and she was crying silently. I moved my chair and put my arm around her and rubbed her shoulder while we watched. I tried to hold myself together for her. The door to the conference room slammed open, nearly giving both of us heart attacks.
“Johnson, Reynolds. Have an intern,” the Boss said, pushing a young man into the room. He left as soon as he’d come. We stood up. Anna wiped her eyes hastily and paused the videos.
“I’m Anna,” she said. “This is Ryan. I’m sorry you had to come at this time. We’re working on a pretty nasty case.”
“Oh, I don’t mind,” he said. “It’s bound to happen eventually, so I may as well get myself acquainted with murder. I’m John Freeman.” He held his hand out to us and shook both our hands.
“I think we’ve looked at enough evidence for now, Ryan. Want to go to the mental hospital now?” I said.
“Sure,” Anna said. We headed out the door, with our new intern at our heels. With his slightly unkempt blond hair and puppy-like blue eyes, he reminded me of a golden retriever. I felt bad ruining his innocence with this horrifying case. But that’s just what happens when you get involved with Police work…
~~
We made our way to West Seattle Psychiatric Hospital. It looked less welcoming than a medical hospital, just because of what lied within its walls. John looked at it with hesitation. I pushed him forward. If he wanted to be a cop, he’d have to learn to deal with situations he didn’t want to be in. And this case was about as bad as it gets, so if he could handle this, he could handle anything. We went into the building and found the nurses who were involved with Bill and his treatment. They wore white uniforms, like you saw in the movies and were as kind as you would expect nurses to be.
“Hi, Miss, I’m Ryan Johnson, this is my partner Anna Reynolds and our intern John Freeman. We’re working on Bill and his cousin’s case. We just have a few questions.”
“Of course,” the first nurse said, nodding with a smile.
“Did you notice anything out of the ordinary with Bills behavior before the attack? In the videos we saw him panicking moments before the killer came, but not before then. We don’t know what was normal or abnormal in his condition,” Anna asked.
“Well, he was always very agitated, always writing in his journal. The Doctor told him to write his story down at least once a day, but he did it almost constantly. We think maybe he was desperate to get better. Or get out. He kept saying he needed to keep moving or else ‘that thing’ as he called it would find him,” the second nurse said. Anna wrote some notes down.
“But you didn’t notice anything abnormal?” I asked again.
“No, sir, nothing. Just his usual behavior.”
“Did you see anyone lurking around the building at all? Like before the attack or in the days preceding it?” I asked.
“No, sir. Or if the killer was here he was very good at hiding,” the first nurse said.
“Did you see which way the killer went after the attack?” I asked. The nurses both became quiet and turned a little pale.
“No, sir,” the first nurse said quietly. “We saw him throw part of Bill out the window and follow, but we didn’t see which way he went once he was on the ground outside.”
“Thank you for your help,” I said, even though they really hadn’t given us anything useful. They nodded.
“Of course, any time,” the second nurse said. They turned around and continued with their work. We left in silence. Once we got into the car, I was irritated. How were we ever going to find this guy and put him behind bars (if that would even help…) if we couldn’t find a single lead?
“This is just great,” Anna said, sounding equally as frustrated. She sighed loudly.
“Let’s just work on this some more tomorrow,” I said. We drove back to the station. I got into my own car and drove back to my apartment reluctantly. Weird things had been happening ever since I first opened the boxes to this case. I kept hearing thumping at night and creaking like my windows were opening. But I wasn’t sure if I was just hearing things or not. I could never find the sources of the sounds. I opened my apartment door half expecting Stitch to be waiting for me. I’d been becoming paranoid, scared. Just fact that I was becoming paranoid and scared was scaring me.
I walked into my apartment, finding no one inside. It was colder than I expected it to be. I wandered through all the rooms, only to find what I hoped I wouldn’t. My bedroom window was opened. I swear I locked it before I left. My hands shook as I closed it and my heart started to race. The panic was setting in again. I turned on all the lights in my apartment on my way to the kitchen to make some comfort food. I made a giant sandwich, grabbed a can of soda and some chips, and walked into the living room. Desperate to take my mind of that god awful case, I turned on the TV and put on a funny movie – Anchorman to be exact. I always loved Will Ferrell. I ate my food and soon my mind was far from the case. Until I heard the thumping. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. It rang in my ears, echoed in my mind, until I couldn’t take it. I ran to my bedroom and grabbed the ear plugs out of my bed side table. I shoved them into my ears to stop that thumping. My window was open again. I still heard the thumping. That god damn thumping. My heart was racing, my palms were sweating, and my hands were shaking so hard I could barely grab the phone. I dialed Anna’s number as quickly as I could.
“He-” she started.
“Anna! Can I stay over tonight?” I asked, cutting her off.
“Sure, what’s wrong, Ryan?” she asked.
“Please don’t tell me I’m not the only one having problems with this case,” I said, nearly begging.
“Are you freaking out too? I swear, I keep closing my windows, but they’re always open…” she said, trailing off.
“I’ll be over in ten minutes.” I hung up the phone and packed a bag as quickly as I could.
~~
We both actually got sleep that night. We drove to work in our separate cars in case I decided to sleep at my own house that night. Neither of us wanted to dive back into the case, but instead of Anna making me, it was John making us. He reiterated almost exactly what Anna had said. “Come on, guys, the sooner we start working the sooner it’ll be over!” He was annoyingly chipper all the time. But I was friendly, so was Anna. He put the tapes back in and pushed play. They started where we’d left off. John looked at them intently, taking notes about all the gruesome things Stitch was doing. I could hardly watch.
Stitch picked up Bills upper half like a bowling ball, sticking his fingers in Bills eyes and mouth. His hand was still embedded in Stitch’s disgusting naked body as he dragged him out into the hall. A trail of blood followed the poor dead man’s body. When Stitch reached the window, he tore Bills arm off and threw the rest of his body out the broken window. From the other angle, we could see Bills roommate still cowering in horror. Stitch ignored him and tore the arm from his chest. Dark goo-like blood came out with the arm, leaving a gaping hole where there should be something…anything… He didn’t even seem to care. He put Bills hand in his repulsive mouth and ate three of his fingers. I imagined the sound of crunching bones and shuddered. He smiles at the camera as he eats Bills remains. His teeth were rotten, his lips were still bleeding, his eyes still covered in sewn on flesh… The video cut out again and when the image returned, Stitch was gone and Bills arm was on the floor. His roommate was crying. I looked at Anna who looked back at me.
“Maybe you should just live with me for a while. I’m too scared to live alone,” she said quietly. I was glad to know I wasn’t the only one scared out of my wits. Maybe the two of us together would be enough to keep Stitch away. We’d start looking at victim number three soon. After we’d had some time to regain our sanity.

---

Case File No.58

“The third victim was a paranormal type. You know, the sort of person who decided to make her own ghost hunting team after watching any of those shows out now,” Anna said as we walked into the office. She hadn’t been able to sleep last night so I guess she’d started going through victim threes files.
“So what’s your point?” I asked. Sleeping on her couch every night was making me cranky but thankfully all the weird things had all but stopped happening and the paranoia and fear was dying down too. I could probably move back into my place soon.
“So, I don’t know. Hey, where’s John?” We walked into our office, boxes and coffee in hand. We sat down at our desks and sipped our coffee for a few minutes before diving into this God awful case once more. Before we could get too into our missing intern, one of the forensic scientists came into the room with an envelope.
“Here’s the DNA sample back, guys,” he said. We’d sent him the sample when we were working on the first victim. The CSI team grabbed blood samples from the candles he’d blown out in the first murder.
“And? Get a match?” I asked.
“Not even close. It’s not even human. I did every test I could think of a million times. It’s just not human. Humans have 46 chromosomes, right; this had 58. I have no idea what it could be.” Anna and I looked at each other.
“Weird,” she said. “Thanks Max.” He put the envelope with the DNA test results on my desk and left.
“Anyways,” I said. “I don’t know. I think someone said he called in sick or something. John did look a little under the weather yesterday.” Anna nodded in agreement.
“Hopefully he gets back soon,” she said. Anna and I went back to the pictures of the third crime scene. It was all the same. Blood, guts, unbelievable gore. I still wasn’t used to it though. It was all more grotesque and inhumane than I thought even possible. I got to a picture of her head. There was a slim white stick-looking item sticking out of her skull. Her hair had dried blood all over it and her eyes sat there open and unseeing, well, one of them at least, like that of a porcelain doll watching you as you sleep. From her mouth, blood ran down her cheek onto the ground. Her head sat in a pool of her own blood. But the bone-appearing item stuck into her head was pristine. A pure unsettling white. I showed it to Anna.
“I think that’s in the box,” she said, pointing to the stick. “Forensics determined it to be a bone.” I shuddered. Anna dug through the box and took the bone out. I took the bag from her and looked at it. Forensics is always careful to not disturb the way the evidence was found. And even with that care, it was disturbingly white.
“Let’s just watch the video and get it over with,” I said.
“It can’t be that bad”, Anna said. “We’ve seen two of the most brutal and horrifying murders already and this victim has most of her body parts still intact, unlike the first two”.
“I guess so. I just don’t want to have to look at pictures of dead people anymore. I’ve had enough for one year.” I said, exhausted. Before she pushed play on the video player, we just sat there. I guess we were preparing ourselves for it, even if we’d already seen it all.
It was then our boss came in, urging us to finish this case. We sucked up and got him out of the room. Anna pushed play.
The video started off in what looks like a bedroom. The camera was handheld. The victim sounded excited. She had a chipper light voice and the camera was moving around rapidly. We heard a bunch of clicks and snaps and sounds of clothes rustling. We figured she was getting something together or putting something on. All of a sudden the camera swung up and we could see her hands grabbing different electronic devices.
“Ok! I’m all set up. I have my camera on my shoulder mount; I have my EVP recorder, my infrared scanner and many other pieces of equipment for my line of work.” She said while looking into a smaller camera. We would watch that tape but it this was the only tape in the evidence box.
“It is 9:14 pm here in Seattle, Washington. This is an unofficial SPA investigation. I say unofficial because nobody else in my team is here and I am off the clock. I am in my house all by myself with my little corgi puppy Samson.”
She was still getting herself ready and giving us other useless information about her house and her equipment she was using. SPA stood for “Seattle Paranormal Association” and it turns out she was the cofounder of it. We decided to fast forward a little bit until we saw her go to the door of her bedroom and open it.
“Okay all you ghost hunt fans out there, just a few minutes ago, I was hearing strange thumps and what sounded like someone talking. I could hear the voice, but I just couldn’t make out what the person or thing was saying. I hope to capture something on my equipment and share it with you guys.”
She walked down the hall until she came to her living room. Right upon entering the living room, to her right was a recliner chair and straight ahead was a couch. She stopped in her tracks.
“It just got really cold. Perhaps this is a good place to do an EVP recording. I’ll just take a walk around the rest of my house first so I know where to go after this, unless this is the only cold room.”
She walked throughout her house. Only the living room seemed cold to her. She also mentioned that the living room was where the thumps sounded like they were coming from.
“I checked the rest of the house and it all checked out fine.” she said. “Whoa… what is that? My window curtain just moved.” She walked over the window and used some weird device towards it. Turns out it was some sort of EMF detector. It has something to do with shifts in the magnetic fields. A shift is supposed to mean there’s a paranormal presence nearby. She moved the curtains. All three of her windows were open.
“Okay? I didn’t leave any of these open earlier.” she proclaimed. “Weird.”
She shut them and turned off the light to her patio. She started walking towards the hallway, but just as she reached the hall, there was a very loud crash coming from behind her near the kitchen. She turned around and just stood there. She then pulled out a flash light and shined it across the room.
“Damn it! That was the plate my mother got me for Christmas. I am now going to pull out my EVP recorder and see if we can get anything on tape.”
The little device started to beep loudly. Like something was there. She pointed her camera in all different directions and started to breath heavier.
“It just got colder. Even colder than before. I’m going to do an EVP now.” She takes out another device and sits down on the ground. “Is anybody there?” it was quiet for a couple minutes. “Are there any spirits here who want to make contact?” she said louder.
“No,” a voice replied.
“No?” she replied. “My arm itches. It just started getting all tingly with a slight burning feeling.” she said, directing it towards the camera, most likely for her viewers. “Did someone just touch my arm?”
“I’m very pleased you can feel that.” A booming menacing voice said from somewhere in the room.
The victim turned around as fast as she could. The room was dark, adding to the spooky effect for her ghost hunt archives so we could barely make out what was talking. But Anna and I both knew exactly who was there. The odd thing was… we were not listening to the EVP recording while watching this video. We could hear Stitch talk through the video camera. At least now we know more about this thing. We now know he is very real. Not a ghost or demon or anything else supernatural.
“Were you the entity that opened my windows and made the thumping sounds?” she asked in a worried voice.
“That itch that you feel… It’s rather interesting you would feel an itch.” Stitch said.
“Why?” she asked.
“That is the part of your body I was looking at. I wish to eat it.” And all of a sudden, as loud as I have ever heard someone yell in my life, loud enough to knock the victim back on her heels, Stitch said “And I intend to.”
“Who are you?” the woman asked, her voice shaking.
“I am known as Buel in the Netherlands. Carnifex in Latin. Pyöveli in Finland. Bøddel in Norway. I have many names. I have killed many people. At least ten per country. You will be my third here. I am your worst nightmare, ma’am. I would run.” As he was talking, the woman took something out of her pocket. It was later found to be Holy Water. She opened the bottle slowly and tossed some of it in the direction of Stitch. Stitch laughed. The woman got up off the ground, turned the light on and started backing up to the front door. We saw that the Holy Water had melted some of Stitch’s skin into the shape of a cross. It was burned into his skin, like he’d been freshly branded. It was red like you’d expect a burn to me, and crusting. Other than the melting flesh, it didn’t seem to affect him. While the woman was backing away, we saw Stitch swinging his chains at her. They wrapped around her arm and tore into her skin. The crunching sound was disgusting as her arm was torn out of her socket and the skin was torn off. The camera landed on the ground. We heard chains clanging and the woman screaming and then we saw her. Her arm was gone. Blood was pouring everywhere and we could see her shoulder blade sticking out of her broken bloody flesh. The woman screamed and screamed while Stitch laughed and laughed, getting slowly louder like he always did. While she was lying on the ground, Stitch towered over her. She tried to crawl away but grabbed a piece of the previously broken dish and tried to use it as a weapon. She stabbed it into the first place she could get it, his arm. But it just went through him. Chunks of blood and guts came out the other side of his arm, dripping and plopping onto the ground. it was gorier than I thought possible. His blood was dark and crusty. Rotten. As it oozed out of his arm, he laughed. He got some of the blood on his fingers, with those awful dirty nails, and shoved the blood into the woman’s mouth.
“You cannot hurt me,” he chuckled. As if to prove his invincibility, he shoved his hand into his chest and ripped out one of his ribs. The bone we’d found in the evidence box we assumed. The woman screamed in terror.
“Why are you haunting me?” she said.
“I'm not haunting you. I'm going to kill you. Chew you to bits and use your flesh to complete mine,” Stitch responded.
“Are you a ghost or a demon?” she said. Her voice was shaking.
“No. I am real. I am the one who makes people scared,” Stitch started to say. “I don’t hide under beds or in closets. I watch you. I like to see my victim’s faces while I study them.” He paused and looked at her. He smiled. “You’re scared. I can smell it. I can taste it so clearly.” He stroked the spot her arm used to be and licked the blood off his fingers.
She tried to escape again but Stitch shoved his fingers into her eyes and held her head like a bowling ball. She kept screaming. Stitch laughed louder than she screamed. He took his fingers out of her eye sockets and took his torn out rib and stabbed it into her skull. Her head fell to the ground. Adding insult to injury, Stitch shoved his hand into her chest now and ripped her heart out and ate it. Then he stood up and grabbed her torn off arm. He sticks her fingers into his mouth and bites them off. The sound of bones crunching rang through our ears. I could hear Anna shuddering next to me. But Stitch wasn’t done. He took the fingers out of his mouth and stuck them into the woman’s mouth. He left, leaving the woman on the floor. Her head was rolled to the side and what was left of her eyes drooped to the ground. There was blood everywhere soaking into her carpet, drying into her hair and onto her skin. Her fingers were sticking out her mouth. Her nails were broken from the struggle.
I looked over at Anna. She looked like she had been crying. She acted like she could handle all this, but I didn’t think she could.
“I’m going home,” she said. She stood up and left the room quickly. I couldn’t blame her. If I could escape this case, I would.
“I guess I will too,” I said. I thought she needed some time alone, so I decided to go back to my house. Before I could leave though, John ran into the office, disheveled.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” he said.
“Late?” I said. “It’s three o’ clock, John. You may as well have just not come in.”
“I know, I know,” he said. “But I found something and I thought you should know. Where’s Anna?” He was talking quickly like he was panicking.
“She went home early. Well? Spit it out, kid,” I said. I didn’t really want to hear what he was about to say. But the information could help us stop this guy, so I listened.
“He’s killed more than just three people. He’s killed like…a hundred…at least. Probably more. He’s known all over the world. Like in old folk lore. You know how Hansel and Gretel is supposed to scare children into being good? I think that’s what Stitch was supposed to be. He’s got different names all over the place, but they all translate to Executioner. Buel means butcher in Dutch, but same difference. I thought this guy sounded familiar. In college I took a class in mythology and folklore and we talked about this guy,” he said. He kept moving his hands all over the place and could hardly stand still in the doorway of my office. He’d graduated top of his class at Harvard. I figured I could trust the things he was saying. I took feverish notes so I could call Anna later and tell her everything.
“I don’t know if this is something we can stop, Ryan,” John said distraught.
“Why?” I asked.
“He’s been at this for who knows how many years. If they have stories about him all over the world, and he’s killed all over the world, what makes you think we can stop him?”
“We have to try,” I said. “It’s our job as detectives. We have to stop him from killing anymore people. I don’t give a damn if he’s been at this for however many years; his reign ends now,” I said.
“Okay,” John said. He took the beanie he was wearing off his head and twisted it in his hands. “How though?”
“I don’t know. Do you want to stay over at my place tonight? Maybe we could try to bait him somehow. There’s got to be something we can do,” I said. John sat down next to me and we started researching more. I tried calling Anna while he worked but she didn’t answer. She didn’t come to work the next day either.

---

Addressing the readers.

John came over to my place after work. We decided to do a little investigation or experiment, if you will, alone in my apartment, and a little research. IF we could even find anything about this thing.
We left the office around 5 pm and met up around 8. We just hung out for a couple hours, playing video games, making some food, talking about the zombie apocalypse and what we would do to survive. Just guy stuff. It was a nice break from the case.
We started doing research around 11 and ended up in the deep end of the internet. Places I've never been to, but in the back of my mind, knew existed. You know those sites. Everybody has that wonder of how deep and twisted the internet is. Well most of those ideas you all think of, are true.
But I'm not going to give any website addresses, so don't ask.
We stumbled upon this one website... it was all black with pictures of rotting skulls everywhere, and the main picture in the middle of the website was just a picture of a goat head., decapitated and rotting in front of a pentagram. That site had a couple of interesting things about something that seemed to match Stitch, for the most part anyways. They had the stitched skin, chains, naked. But on the website, they talked about it having eyes and then losing them. It didn't say how he lost them, but a few commenter’s on the articles were all furiously talking... a lot of capitalized letters and exclamation marks.
There were some comments in Norwegian, some in German and very few in English. It seemed like it was all the English speaking commenter’s who were asking how he lost his eyes.
There was only one response. A really long comment, sometimes repeating sentences, in some language we didn't quite know.
There was a commenter on the article we posted on reddit named "RepetitiveRoutine". He mentioned using Google Translate to figure out what Stitch called himself... or claimed he was called, rather. He was a nice guy. We got in contact with him right away and thanked him for showing interest in the case. He offered his assistance and we let him help. We plan on video chatting soon.
Anyways, the comment was in a very old language. One you never hear anymore, but it does still exist. It was in Aramaic. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I believe that was the language Jesus Christ himself spoke – that old of a language. Not just old, but ancient.
We got in contact with a world language expert that I knew from college who now works for the military.
We asked him what the commenter was saying, but he couldn't make out that many words. He said it's much older than we thought. He made out something about the thing enjoying self mutilation. He would poke his eyes with his fingers over and over again. He would pull on his eye lids in all directions. Peel his skin off with a knife. Shave his head with a razor, leaving scars and gashes all over his bald head. Like he was some kind of masochist. It also talked about the thing cutting the skin to his knees off and hitting the kneecaps with a hammer. That was all he could get out of it.
Other comments in German talked about him getting sexual pleasure from harming himself and others, ultimately leading to the death of his poor victims. He enjoyed taking their body parts and making disfigured bodies out of them. He would claim to be married to them.
Other people from Norway would claim he would give the body parts to Satan himself for his godly powers.
We had enough with that site though. We went on to try to figure out if there were any survivors. There weren't any. Although, some commenter’s speaking in Chinese would explain how he would chain the soul of his latest victim to himself and walk them to the Gates of Hell personally. So once you were his victim...you were his victim forever.
But what I want to know is how all these people came to learn this about Stitch and we weren't able to learn anything. Were we not trying hard enough? Were we not religious enough? I have no idea.
The last commenter mentioned how this thing – apparently it was a man once – died. After all of his monstrous acts, whatever the truth about his wrong doings may be, the civilization he lived in murdered him. He mentioned how he was torn apart by horses... A rope tied to each of his limbs was attached to a horse and they ran off in different directions, tearing him to pieces. After the horses pulled him apart, the people let the dogs go at him. They tore him to even more pieces. They left the body there to rot. They came back a week later and the body was gone. Not even a blood trail to follow.
That night, as everybody was laying down to sleep, they heard crying. Animals crying. They found their dogs with their stomachs ripped open, some of the animals ripped in half.
We are not positive, but we are assuming that is how Stitch got his skin back after being eaten by the dogs. The commenter did not say.
John and I got curious about all these people and their information. We tried tracking them down through their internet providers and IP addresses but nothing came up. Not a country...city...zip code...home address... Nothing. It struck us as odd.
So that is all we learned about Stitch. I honestly don't want to know anymore. But for some strange reason, I feel like we are much closer to capturing him now.
We got connected to the video chat with the commenter from reddit and started telling him all that we learned and he seemed really interested. Like none of it bothered him. At least we had someone new to help us. It would also help us get through it faster with his motivation. And a new eye on the case is always good. Like they say, two heads is better than one. So four was probably better than the three we had.
After a while discussing Stitch and all we learned, we decided to see how to get him to show himself. We absolutely needed to figure out how Stitch chose his victims. If we could bait him into coming to us, we could catch him and put an end to all this terror.
I asked the commenter to scare himself. Told him to get scared. Considering Stitch mentioned he could smell the last victims fear.
It took a long time, but he was finally scared. He said after a while he started hearing thumps and whispers. We knew Stitch was close.
“Turn off every light in your house, except the light closest to the window in the back of your house and the window in the front,” I told him. Then I asked him to stand in front of each window looking out for at least 2 minutes, in case Stitch was around. He would see he is home.
After the 4 or 5 minutes, he came back to his computer and asked for further directions. He mentioned his front window was open before he got to it.
“Don’t worry about it,” I said. John told him to make sure there was nothing on that can possibly create any sound. It needs to be completely silent.
The commenter sat there, waiting. We all sat in the silent dark just listening. Staring into each other’s homes.
Then we heard thumping. He said it was coming from his hallway. We told him to get in either his closet or under the bed or something. Go anywhere, just hide.
“Take a camera with you in case Stitch comes in. You can take video or pictures of him,” I urged. Right before he went to hide I told him to stop being afraid. “Don't be scared. That will just make things worse. Stop being afraid. I promise he is not real. We're going to figure this out.”
He went and hid in his closet. It was silent, deathly so. We couldn't see anything. We just sat there looking into his room.
My heart was pounding out of my chest and I felt sick. I was on the edge of my seat. John and I both were.
It was like we were watching one of those internet jokes where you watch and wait for the paranormal activity to start, but a face just pops up and screams at you.
We started to hear thumping. It got louder and louder and so did the voice. As usual it was talking to itself.
The bedroom door opened. Stitch walked in and just stood in the middle of the room. Stood there for about 20 minutes. Just stood there. Then for no reason at all, he just started laughing. Louder and louder. While he laughed maniacally some sort of liquid spat out of his mouth. We assumed it was blood.
As the laughing got louder and louder... it happened. The damn kid screamed. He started screaming how he was so scared and didn't want to do it.
“Kid shut the fuck up! Don't be scared! He can't hurt you!” I screamed back at him.
Stitch turned his head and looked directly into the webcam. My heart sunk into my chest. It hurt. The commenter screamed again. Stitch turned his head as fast as lightning and looked at the closet. John screamed telling him to keep hiding and Stitch turned his head back to the webcam. The commenter screamed saying he was going to run. Stitch turned his back to the closet. All this time, Stitch was smiling. John yelled for him to run. Stitch turned his head to the webcam. Just as he did, the commenter opened the closet door and took two steps. But he didn’t get any farther.
Stitch stretched his arm out and grabbed the commenter by the neck without even looking at him. He was still looking at us. I was breathing so fast I was getting light headed.
“Is this some kind of game?” Stitch asked, followed by laughter. “You were trying to trick me? How did you think you would catch me? You are no match for me. Now because of you, I will take this boys soul and strike him with my chains for all of eternity. I will feed him to my dogs and bring him back and do it again. And I have you to thank.” Stitch yelled. His voice made my skin crawl. I could hardly believe what we were seeing.
He stepped towards the camera and tilted his head forward. “Do you have any more unfortunate souls you would like to have play this pathetic game? Hiding in closets or under beds does not make you safe from me. I can smell your fear right now. I can taste it,” he said while rubbing his disgusting bloody fingers on his tongue.
“I want to feel your heart beating,” he yelled. Stitch then did the unthinkable. He reached his hand towards us... it came straight through my monitor. I slammed my laptop closed and all I could hear was his laugh, echoing in my head.
That's it... I... don't know what to do anymore. I want to leave. Forever. Move out of the country and live in the woods somewhere.
To the parents of RepetitiveRoutine, I am so sorry. I should have known what was going to happen. I don't know what to say.
And as for all you other readers... please do not do what we had RepetitiveRoutine do. Stitch will enjoy it and it will just make him stronger. It is not a game. It is death.

---

My dream last night

December 30, 2012
I just woke up and thought I should write this down before I forget. I haven’t been sleeping that much lately, which is why I am just now waking up. The paranoia and fear is just getting worse as the case goes on. I had this really weird dream. I was in a field. Just a field like you would normally think of when you think about fields. Trees everywhere with shrubs at their bases. There were some deer off in the distance and I could hear birds chirping. The sun was shining. As I stood there thinking about how this would be a good place to come and think. I started thinking about my childhood. I used to come to a field just like this and play with my dogs. They loved to play fetch in the grass. When it was really tall they loved to sneak up on me or leap over the grass like gazelles.
I thought it was a dream about that. But as soon as the sun vanished and the clouds covered the air, I knew this was no dream – but a nightmare – and not one that was about my dog filled childhood.
When the clouds covered the sky, the plants all died. The trees lost their leaves, the grass turned brown, the flowers wilted where they stood. The deer dropped dead and the birds fell from the sky. There was a smell in the air that I can’t even begin to describe; it was so disgusting. Beyond disgusting. Like rotten flesh and rotten eggs and rotten milk all combined together. I watched as all the deer dropped to the ground and I ran to them thinking there could be a way for me to help. But when I got there, there was nothing I could do. Their flesh was already rotting and parasites had already come to eat the meat off their bones.
Suddenly, I heard a loud, low groaning sound. It was coming from all around me. It sounded like it was coming from the trees. I couldn’t escape it by running. It just got louder and louder the longer I was in that field. I saw some concrete stairs going into the ground. I watched myself run. It kept switching from first person view to third person. It was really disorienting. I kept going towards the stairs and then hurried down them. At the bottom of the stairs there was a beat up wooden door. Something told me I shouldn’t open the door, no matter how badly I wanted to escape that groaning sound. That I should force myself to wake up and just keep going on with my life, without opening that door. But of course, like in all nightmares and typical Hollywood teen screams, your gut is ignored.
I opened the door. It creaked and it felt like it was going to fall off its hinges. There were scratches all over the back side of the door. Like someone had been trying to escape. It was cold as I entered the hallway the door lead to. Ice cold. I shivered. I didn’t know if I was shivering from fear or from the cold. Either one was entirely plausible. I closed the door behind me and the groaning stopped instantly.
It was pitch black dark, but I walked down the hall anyways. I tried to move quickly, but my feet felt like they were made of lead. It felt like each step took five minutes. It was driving me crazy. I put my hands on the walls to guide me. I felt inscriptions on the wall, but I couldn’t tell what they said. I patted my pockets to see if my cell phone was there. It was, so I pulled it out of my pocket and when I went to open it to shine light on the wall, it shocked me and I dropped it. I winced and shook my hand to get the pain to stop. I went to pick it up off the ground, but it turned to dust as my hand touched it. The dust was unusually warm and more ashy than grainy. I stumbled forward, keeping my hands on the walls to guide me. I felt more inscriptions, but I wouldn’t find out till later what they were. I felt a corner and slid my hands onto the cold wall in front of me. As I felt it, trying to find an escape, I felt a handle. I put my hand on it, tried to push or pull the door open. It wouldn’t budge. So I tried sliding it open. And that worked. It slid open with a loud bang.
I walked into the room and slid the door closed behind me. The lighting was like a doctor’s office. The kind of light that washes out your skin and makes it look blue. I always hated that light. The room looked like the morgue in the hospitals. In the middle of the room there was a metal table, shiny and eerily clean. Like it had never been used. Along the walls there were drawers you put dead bodies in. The room smelled strongly of sulfur. Next to the table there was a little cart with various surgery tools on it. I walked towards it carefully. Every step I took was deafening. I got to the table and picked up the first tool I saw, a Stryker saw. My dad was a coroner so he would always talk about that stuff over dinner, which I really didn’t appreciate. The only time I put up with it was when I was doing an internship for him when I was trying to decide what part of the police world I wanted to join.
I started thinking about how I had to watch him use various saws to cut ribs open to get to the heart. I remembered the blood everywhere and dropped the saw on the ground, forgetting I was holding it. It hit the leg of the cart and all the tools fell onto the ground. The metal clanked against the tiles on the ground. The sound was just as deafening as my footsteps had been. When the sound stopped, I started to look around the rest of the room. It was back in third person. I watched myself wander around the room. My other self looked into the file drawers that weren’t full of bodies. He pulled out some papers and looked at them. All the files were in a different language, but neither me nor the other me could tell which language it was. I watched myself find a single paper in English, talking about the Lake Bodom murders. I remember Googling the case a couple years ago out of curiosity because one of my favorite bands was named after them. No one ever found out who committed them. Maybe Stitch was behind those attacks too... Then suddenly I was back in first person. As soon as I oriented myself, I started hearing banging and moaning. I looked around the room and saw the body drawers shaking. I heard people pleading to be let out, moaning and groaning, begging. I started panicking and ran to the corner. I sat on the ground and covered my ears and closed my eyes, hoping against all hope that the sound would stop. And it did. It wasn’t a good quiet though. It was a scary quiet. Eerie. The quiet went on for what felt like forever until the loud groaning sound from the field started again. I walked to the sliding door trying to find a way to escape it again. I opened the door but couldn’t see anything. My eyes were still adjusting to the darkness in the hall. Once they did, I saw Stitch standing at the end of the hallway. You could only see one of his arms. He took a step forward and then I could see him holding his chains behind his back.
“Are you trying to hide?” Stitch said.
“Where am I?” I asked.
“We are inside your memories,” he replied.
“Why?”
“I want to ruin your best memories. I feed off fear and anger. I killed the animals and turned the sky gray. Now look behind you and feel more fear,” Stitch said. All of a sudden there was the stench of rotten flesh and blood in the air. I turned around slowly. As I turned around I slipped and hit my head on one of the counters. I put my hand on my head to ease the pain and closed my eyes. When I opened them, I looked at my hands and they were covered in blood. I looked around the rest of the room and the floor was flooded with blood. Papers covered the floor. I looked at the body drawers and saw all of them were open. The dead bodies inside them were sitting up on their metal beds, smiling, with dead eyes and pale skin. One had a gunshot wound on his head with crusted blood around the edges. Another had his throat slit. Another was severely burned; his skin was blackened. Their smiles were still and frozen. Like mannequins. I turned back to look at Stitch again. His arm was still bent back.
“Meet my latest victim. Courtesy of you.” He grabbed his chains with both of his hands. He jerked someone roughly. As the mystery person went flying through the air, Stitch jerks him back by the neck even more roughly than before. It yelped and cried in pain. He landed right in front of Stitch. There was a chain around his neck. It could’ve come off, but there were spikes driven into his neck, keeping them in place. The holes in his neck kept oozing blood. His legs were broken off at the knee. His femur was sticking out. The skin and muscle were all torn, still bleeding. From his bottom lip to half way down his neck, the skin was gone. The muscle was disturbingly red, bloody… it made me want to puke. It seemed like every pore in his body was blood oozing out of it. He was so beat up. Some of his teeth were missing. His hair was torn out in chunks. His arms and chest had gruesome scratches all over them. His eye lids were missing. His eyes were dried and shriveled. There were chunks of his face missing, along with the rest of his body.
“You know who I am,” Stitch’s victim said.
“No I don’t,” I said quietly, scared.
“Yes you do. You watched me get taken away.”
“RepetitiveRoutine,” he said. Then it hit me. I recognized his short dark brown hair with its slight curl. I felt a fit of tears coming and held them back. Suddenly, RepetitiveRoutine came loose and started bounding towards me. He ran on his fists, like an ape. While he ran, he screamed blood curdling screams. Terrified, I stumbled back and ran as fast as I could to the corner of the morgue-like room. I slammed the door and as soon as the sound rang through my ears I woke up. Or at least I thought I did.
“You need to wake up, Ryan. It’s time to have breakfast,” a voice said. I found myself in my childhood bedroom, cuddled up in my Scooby Doo sheets. I rolled over and saw my mom watching me. Before I could answer her, Stitch came up behind her. He loomed over her. He was wearing a blue button up shirt with slacks. He put his hand on her shoulder. She put hers over his. “Hey, honey. I’m just trying to wake up Ryan,” she said.
“Wake up, son,” Stitch said. Stitch was playing the part of my dad. But my mom couldn’t even tell that my dad wasn’t there. She couldn’t tell what was coming for her. Naked again, Stitch tore her skin off in one piece and danced with it, laughing. I was left frozen in terror. And even with her skin missing, my mom stood there smiling. After a little bit of dancing, he tore her skin in half. The back of her landed on the floor and he held up the front in front of him. He put his eyes where hers should be, wore her like a mask.
“Good morning, baby,” he said, mocking my mother’s voice. He stuck his tongue through her lips and wiggled it around at me like a child, and started laughing again, even louder. All the while, my mother was standing there, all meat, just looking at me. Stitch dropped the rest of her skin on the ground and grabbed her veins from her ankles and wrists. He wrapped them together and swung her around, her feet touching her hands. As he swung her around, her blood splattered all over the room. It flew onto my face and I nearly threw up. I tried to get up off my bed and run away, but before I could reach the door, Stitch pushed me against the window. A piece of broken glass cut my back, leaving a huge scratch. I woke up for real then, drenched in sweat.
I went to the bathroom before I started writing this. There’s a scratch on my back… I’m going to go to the hospital now and get this checked out. I just thought of this… My dad’s still alive. Why was Stitch pretending to be him in my dream if he’s still here? Maybe I should go stay with him for a while…
I know you guys have been wondering about Anna too. I still haven't heard from her. It's been a while now, a week and a half... I'm starting to get worried. She won't answer her phone, her emails. There isn't even anyone there when I go knock on her door. This is getting distressing. What should I do?
-Ryan

---

Anna

Anna is gone. After days of emailing her, calling her house and even knocking on her front door, I finally got an answer. I went over to her house today. Her car wasn't in her drive way.
Also, the curtains weren't closed so I decided to look in. I put my face against the glass and cupped my eyes with my hands. There was nothing in the living room. It was empty. I then tried to call her cell phone. It went straight to voice mail. I really hope her voice mail is not the last time I'm going to hear my partners voice. Can you imagine how that feels?
I'm being left here with John, and even John is acting weird on me now. He seems withdrawn and quiet. Not as chipper as he was when he first got to us. John doesn't want to do this anymore. Neither of us do.
Nothing else huge has happened since my dream. I still hear knocking and sometimes quiet chuckling in the distance. I'm planning on going to my dads house soon. I'm still trying to figure out why Stitch was acting as my dad in my dream and why my mother didn't notice it was a monster. I can't get the sound of my mothers skin getting ripped off of her out of my head. The tearing of veins and tight skin splitting. It's driving me crazy. If I'm not listening to Stitch laughing in my head, it's all of the disgusting sounds I have had to hear the past month. Bones breaking, skin ripping, guts getting thrown around. ReptitiveRoutines screams.
It's always the same with gruesome sounds like that. Someone getting their neck slit, someone smacking their head on the pavement after getting hit by a car, someone gurgling in their own blood after having their face bashed in. The sound is always much worse than the image and the sound is going to stick with you for your whole life. It's going to haunt you.
I'll keep in touch.

---

I have my own Case File now. - PART 1

John and I were working on the case in my office. It was weird not having Anna around. I was so desperately hoping that my suspicions were wrong, that she wasn’t dead, just hiding until the case was over or was taking a break. The office was cold, so cold we could see our breath. Neither of us really knew what to do about the whole Stitch thing.
We looked through the pictures, read the journals, and watched the tapes, God knows how many times. We would watch the tapes in slow-motion looking for any little clues that might tell us where to find him. But we couldn’t find anything. First, we were thinking he must be hiding somewhere outdoors. He always seemed sort of dirty and disheveled, like he didn’t have access to a shower and was always running around barefoot. But then we wondered, if he’s an outdoorsman, why is he naked? Doesn’t he get cold? Then we played around with the idea that he lived in a cave somewhere. Which would make sense – he’d have some warmth so he could wander around naked all he wanted. But it still didn’t quite work in our heads. Since when do supernatural creatures and serial killers not have homes and established lives outside of their murder sprees? Vampires, you think live in castles, mansions, and whatnot. Werewolves are only like that once a month, so they obviously have stuff to do the rest of the time, and have a house. Even zombies sort of have a home – their coffins until they rise from the dead. What would make Stitch want to be the outcast and not have a house and established life?
Nothing was making sense to us. Our heads hurt. Our coffee was running out. The sun was going down. The work week was coming to an end. Our options were running out. Thankfully no one else had been killed. But surely, it would happen again soon. Stitch wasn’t one to sit and do nothing for extended periods of time.
“What do you want to do?” I asked John as I stretched out my back. Before he could answer, the door to my office slammed open and an FBI team walked in. “We need you two to come in for questioning,” the only one in a suit said. The rest of them were wearing the typical FBI uniforms, with their guns and everything. John and I were confused. What could we have done to catch the FBIs attention? We complied and went with the team willingly. We all walked out of the office quietly. My coworkers watched, just as confused as we were. Their eyes were all wide. Some of the mouthed words at me, asking what was going on. I just shrugged. I really had no idea. They shoved us into the back of a car and drove us to where they wanted to question us.
We arrived at the jail in Downtown Seattle. It was a tan building with small windows with bars over them, so the prisoners couldn’t escape. I was scared. I looked over at John. He was squeezing his hands together; I could see they were sweaty. He had wide eyes, like he was a child caught stealing candy. My palms were sweaty too. I’m sure my eyes were just as wide.
We were let out of the car. Two men grabbed both of my arms and pulled me into the building. I didn’t know what we’d done to deserve such harsh treatment. They didn’t give us time to look around the building, but I didn’t really mind. I’d been there countless times. I was just confused by why we were being brought there for questioning.
John and I were put into separate rooms. Each room had white walls, a white tile floor, a white ceiling, and a white light. There was a metal table in the middle of the room with chairs all around it. I was told to sit down and wait. So I did as I was told, in an attempt to stop the brutal treatment. The walls were entirely bare of everything, even texture. As I waited, I tried to find something to fix my eyes on. But I was so nervous I could hardly sit still. I tapped my feet and drummed my fingers and chewed my nails. What could I have possibly done? I’m just a detective! I’m the one who’s supposed to be solving the cases, not be a suspect or anything. Interrupting my thoughts, a man in a gray suit walks in with a file. He sits down across the table from me and just looks at me for what felt like an eternity.
“You’re probably wondering why we brought you and your intern in here,” he said. His voice was deep and scratchy. He had a bird’s nest type of hair, mostly white with shades of gray. His eyes were tired and old, like they’d seen everything to be seen. I nodded at him, unsure if I was allowed to speak. “What do you know about…” He looks at his papers. “Repetitive Routine… What do you know about his death?” “I know what happened on the tapes,” I said. “I have them back in my office if you want to see them.” “We know what happened in the tapes,” the man said. “What do you know? Is there anything we should know that can’t be learned through the tapes?” “What do you mean?” I asked. The bright light was making my headache worse. “What did you have to do with it?” “Nothing!” I said, shocked. “I didn’t kill him, if that’s what you’re asking. He offered to help us find Stitch and that’s what ended up happening. Stitch came and killed him. We didn’t think that would happen, but it did. And from that side of the webcam you can’t really do anything.” My speech got faster and faster as I kept talking. Was I really a suspect in his death? In my own investigation? “Okay,” the man said. “Calm down. We’re just investigating his death.” That made me fume. That was my case. I didn’t work so hard to become the best detective in the Seattle PD just to have my case taken from me. Even if it was impossible to solve…
“You’re free to go,” the man said. “We’ll be in touch with any further information on his death.” I nodded at him and walked into the hall. As I waited in the hallway for John to come out from his interrogation, an idea crossed my mind. An illegal one, mind you, but an idea nonetheless. And despite its illegality, I decided to pursue it. I jogged down the hall to the man who’d questioned me and asked him where the nearest bathroom was. He pointed and said down the hall and around the corner. So I walked down the plain hallway and stood just around the corner, near the restroom. I peaked around to see the man go into a room with the folder, and come out without it. When the coast was clear, I snuck into the room, quietly so no one could hear. The room was dark and dank with file folders covering all the walls. The files were organized in alphabetical order so I found the J drawer and searched for my file. At last I found it. Johnson, Ryan. I opened it and found a small notebook. Flipping through it, the pages were covered in notes. I smiled to myself. Suddenly I head the door opened so I stuffed the notebook into my pocket and closed the drawer quickly and silently. A woman with sharp features and a stern expression walked in.
“What are you doing in here?” she asked. “I was looking for the bathroom,” I said. “Wrong room. It’s down the hall and around the corner,” she said. “Okay, thank you,” I said. I walked out of the room and found John waiting at the end of the hall by the rooms we’d been questioned in.
I swiftly walked to him and gestured for him to follow me quickly. We stepped out of the building into the crisp Seattle air. I kept walking until we were a good distance away from the building. Then I pulled the journal out of my pocket and showed it to John. He looked at me with concern. “Did you steal that?” he asked. I nodded but didn’t care that he was worried. We were already in trouble. I flipped to the first page. It talked about how we were suspects in Repetitive Routine’s murder. John Freeman and Ryan Johnson – present at time of crime, could have orchestrated it in ploy to solve serial killer case, follow after questioning.
That made both of us nervous. We looked around as soon as we read that, looking for suspicious cars. Cars of different colors and models whizzed around us, but nothing was standing still watching us. We felt small rain drops start to hit our heads and neck so we started walking and fast as we could to the office. The rain started to really pour and get us soaking wet before we reached our cars.
“I was thinking…we should go up to Anna’s parents house. She might be staying with them,” I told John. “Let’s go now,” he said. “Why not? The sooner we find her the sooner we can let our minds ease.” I agreed with him and we both piled into my car. It was getting dark as I pulled out into traffic and eventually onto the freeway. The clouds were ominous. They were a dark gray. The rain was pounding on my car. John and I were silent the whole time. Neither of us knew what to say. We didn’t know what we were going to find. But both of us were praying to whatever God was out there, that we’d find Anna alive. A couple hours went by. The weather kept getting worse and the sun kept going further down until it was pitch black outside. That’s when I felt a bump and then it got really hard to drive all of a sudden. I pulled over to the side of the road and jumped out of my car. The front left tire was completely flat.
“Great!” I nearly screamed. “Just awesome.” John got out of the car and looked at the wheel. I ran my hand through my messy hair and sighed. It was already getting late and I didn’t want to deal with this. Especially given the situation. What if Stitch found us? I shoved those thoughts aside and tried to focus on fixing the wheel. I opened my trunk and found my spare wheel. But only a spare wheel. All my tools to fix it were gone. Nowhere to be found. How was I supposed to fix my stupid tire without tools? I nearly screamed again. I shut my trunk and leaned against the driver’s side door and waited for someone to drive by and help.
“You okay?” John asked after a while. We were both standing the pouring rain, in the dark, in the middle of nowhere. Neither of us were happy. Our suits were soaked; our hair looked like we’d just taken a shower; it was late; we were tired and stressed out. Things just weren’t looking good for us. “What do you think?” I said. I wasn’t trying to sound rude, but I guess that was the vibe I put out because John scooted away from me a little bit and didn’t say anything else for a while. We waited in the rain for half an hour before a car finally stopped to help us. A man and a young woman got out of the car. The lady had long brown hair in a braid down her back and hippie like clothing. She had a kind face and walked towards us with welcoming arms.
“What happened?” she asked, sounding genuinely concerned. “Flat tire,” John said. He sounded in a better mood than I was. Even if he had been acting strange lately, he was still more chipper than me. “We can’t find Ryan’s tools.” “Oh, that’s terrible!” the woman said. “We have tools. Go help them change their tire, Josh!” The man she was with was tall and extremely muscular, to the point that it was kind of weird. He wore a plain white t-shirt and jeans. He didn’t seem like he would be dating the woman he was with – if they were dating, that is. He nodded in her direction and went to the trunk of their black car. Shortly thereafter he came back with the necessary tools and helped us change my tire. In just a few minutes we were ready to go.
“Thank you so much,” I said. “This really means a lot.” “Oh, no problem at all,” the woman said, grinning. “Just one question though. What’s with the car with the two scary looking men in it back there? They’ve just been sitting there the whole time.” John and I looked back at the car and then back at each other. Neither of us had noticed it until she pointed it out. It was sleek and black, nearly unnoticeable in the dark from that distance. I thought on my feet. “Oh, that’s the FBI. We’re detectives working on a case with them. It’s nothing to worry about.” It was something to worry about… “Interesting!” the woman said. The man stood beside her silently the whole time they’d helped us. “Well good luck with your case!” “Thank you. And again, thank you so much for the help.” I smiled at her and John and I got back into my car, thoroughly soaking wet.
“What should we do about them?” John said, pointing at the FBI car trailing us. “Just let them do whatever. There’s nothing for us to hide; we didn’t do what they think we did,” I said. I started up the car and kept driving. John and I were silent the whole ride to Bellingham. The car kept trailing us all the way to Anna’s parent’s house. We tried acting like we didn’t see them. We tried to act as natural as we could. It was hard, but we did as good a job as possible.
Soon we pulled up to Anna’s parent’s house. It was a small little house just outside the city. They owned a little ranch with three horses. They were neighing in the barn a little ways from the house. They sounded panicked, but I didn’t know anything about horses, so for all I knew, that was what they sounded like all the time. John and I walked up to the front door of their shabby little house. Anna’s car was sitting outside. It had frost on the windows and what looked like fresh mud on the tires. Maybe she had just come back.
The paint on the house was peeling and the grass was unkempt. The stairs creaked as we walked up them onto the porch. I knocked on the door, but as I knocked it just opened. I pushed it further open and John and I walked in skeptically. The air was freezing cold and bugs were crawling on the ground. The first room we came to was the living room. The furniture had that typical old-lady pattern of canvas flowers. The furniture was covered in those plastic covers. The window next to the television was broken. Glass was all over the ground. The television was on. A news broadcaster’s voice rang through the silent house. It was eerie.
The floor creaked beneath our feet as we kept walking slowly through the house. We got to the kitchen. The fridge was open and the sink was running. Food was sitting on the counter like someone was about to prepare a meal. The food was rotting and there was a slight stench in the air. It was starting to get various colored mold on it. Flies buzzed around the plate, loving the stench of the disgusting food. John walked over to look at it. He winced a little.
“One of those flies just bit me,” he said. He poked at the food and a bunch of fruit flies jumped off the food on the table. We couldn’t tell what the food even was. The table was set and one of the chairs was pulled out from the table like someone was sitting there watching the other person cook. I started to see specks of blood on the floor as we kept walking. We followed the blood drops until they turned into trails of blood. Some places it was hard to make out on the brown carpet.
The trail led into a room that appeared to be an office, but also kept going down the hall. We decided to go room by room and started in the office. It had a computer, printer and a desk with some cabinets. The blood trail went right past everything and up the wall. It stopped halfway to the ceiling. John told me to come over to where he was. I walked around the desk on the side where the chair was. The chair was covered in blood and so were the keyboard and the top of the desk. Some of the keys were missing from the keyboard, the monitor was completely broken and the mouse was hanging down, covered in blood. The damage and destruction of the desk area was not the most disturbing part. The worst part was, all over the keyboard. We found teeth. Like someone had gotten their face slammed into it repeatedly and their teeth had fallen out. They were white with yellowing at the top of them where they’d fallen out. The monitor still had glass around the frame. It was covered in blood and on one long shard of glass, there was an eye ball. It was brown and still had the veins attached to it. There was also some hair caught on glass on the side of the monitor. It was long, white, and sort of crinkly.
At least I knew it wasn't Anna’s. I went to pull the chair out from the desk, and as I did, I heard a loud thump. I look down and there was a hand coming out from under the desk. John and I crouched down to have a better look. It was Anna’s mom.
She was curled up under the desk, her knees against her chest, sitting up. Her left eye was out of its socket, some teeth were missing as well and there were a few holes in her scalp where hair and skin should be. We could see the white bone of her cracked skull. Her right eye was still in its socket. It was swollen and black with bits of blood trickling down her pale white cheek. Her nose was severely broken. You could see the cracked bone beneath the crusted blood. We decided not to touch the body continued down the hall way.
The blood trail was on the ground for a good five to six feet then it swerved to the left and went up the wall. We followed it on the wall until it came to a door. This door was locked and after several attempts to break it in with our shoulders, John kicked it in. It was Anna’s dad’s personal room - bachelor pad, if you will. It had a flat screen, computer, fish tank, various mounted animal heads, a gun cabinet and a cigar humidor. We didn't stay long in that room.
The first thing we saw was her dad’s body. He was ripped in half and replaced on the wall with his mounted bear head. His lower body was still standing up, right below him on the ground. On the wooden plaque, where it read the name, size and weight of the bear, someone had carved over it. It said "Collateral" and below that it said "You can't run". Maybe this will get those damn FBI agents to finally believe Stitch is real. Maybe this will get them off my back.
John and I went outside to find the FBI agents. They weren’t in their car so we assumed they were following us around the house. We turned to go back into the house and look for them and saw them coming towards us. Their guns were drawn but they weren’t pointing them at us. “Do you believe us that Stitch is behind all this now?” I asked. “Do you believe we didn’t kill Repetitive Routine?” “We don’t know what to think,” one man said. He scratched his head and rubbed his chin. “Maybe we should call the local authorities. They might have some insight on this couple. Maybe someone was out to get them. We’ll also call in more field agents. This might be beyond your control now, if what you’re telling me is true.” “Didn’t you see what was written on the plaque? It was Stitch!” John said, getting flustered. “Show us,” the second man said. We walked back into the house and tried not to look at the gore too much. We got Anna’s dad’s room and showed them the plaque. They looked at the words carefully. “Collateral, huh?” the first man said. “Collateral for what?” “We’re thinking he has my partner, Anna. She’s been missing for a little while now. We don’t know where she is,” I said. “We definitely need to call the locals. We need all the help we can get.” The second man pulled out his phone and dialed 911. He told the operator about him being an FBI agent and needing back up. He asked for the address, I gave it to him, and we waited for the police to arrive.
“Maybe we should go check on the horses,” John said. “We don’t know how long these people have been dead. They might be needing food and whatnot.” We all agreed and walked back out into the cold. It might have been dark and freezing cold out, but it was a nice change to the disgusting sights inside the house. I loved the open field that lay between the house and the neighboring house. Although, it did remind me of the dream I had a couple days ago.
As we walked further into the field, my heart began to beat faster. I found myself staring into the woods that surrounded the property. I can still hear that loud groaning sound from my dream. I know it was just a dream, but it still makes me nervous. We walked towards the barn quietly. Part of the thought maybe Stitch was waiting for me. The barn was like a typical horse barn. Red outside and stalls inside with open windows so the horses could get fresh air when they were inside. We opened the door. It squeaked loudly.
You could smell the stench of decay from 20 feet away from the barn. I doubt I was the only person who noticed it. All of the straw and hay on the ground of the barn was damp and stuck to the bottom of our shoes. It felt...gross...beneath my feet. I almost slipped a couple of times. The horses were in the back of the barn in the last three stalls. As we got closer, we noticed only 2 of them were alive and they were just skin and bone. You should see every bone in their body and their neighs sounded like they were in pain and scared and they could barely stand. Their legs were close to collapsing underneath them. As I checked them out, I noticed they had rope around their necks. Why would they have ropes around their necks?
When we found the horses, three more police men showed up.
“We were the closest officers to your location. We checked out the house and we called for more back up though,” one of the officers said, almost out of breathe.
“Oh my god... what is that smell?” another said. He put his hand over his nose and mouth.
“That's what we're here to find out,” I said.
I opened the stall where the third horse should have been. I wish I didn't. The only thing left in there was the scalp of the horse... It's whole mane and the horse tail was on the ground. The tail had a giant chunk of meat at the end, still connected, where someone ripped it off the horse. Next to these things on the ground...there were three of it's hooves.
“Jesus Christ! Where did the other hoof go?! Where did the body go?!” John yelled.
We all walked away from the stall and one of the FBI agents ordered another officer to take the two remaining horses out of the barn and take them to a veterinary clinic. As we opened the stall to one of the live horses, blood was everywhere. All over the horses feet, it's mouth and in its hair. We couldn't see any wounds or anything on him though.
Around the food trough, there were flies flying around it. I walked closer and my nose started to burn. There was a lot of meat in the trough. Some of the meat was still connected to bones. But... they didn't look like... human bones. They were much too long...much larger than human bones. The joints were different. The horses had been eating the third horse whose body we couldn't find. Who the fuck does this? I thought.
“Guys... I think I found the third horse...” I said, trying not to puke.

---

I have my own Case File now. - PART 2

“Holy shit,” John said.
“I'm going to go back to my car and get some gloves. I'll bring some for everybody,” I said, as I walked away from the crime scene.
I started walking across the field again. I was dragging my feet as I walked to try to get some of the hay off of my shoes.
It was odd. I felt as if I was being watched as I walked through the field. I looked left and right, along the tree line, but I didn't see anybody. I turned around and still, I did not see a single person besides the officer who took the horses out of the barn. He was crouched, picking up grass, attempting to feed the horses. I turned back and walked towards the car. From the field, you walk along a fence that was along the side yard of the house. The house has 2 windows on that side. I could have been seeing things...but I swear I saw a curtain move and someones hand go behind it.
I decided to go back inside the house. I figured it was just the other officers who were called. I walked up the front steps and into the door. As I entered, I got light headed and dizzy. Everything I saw flashed and went from blue to green and back to blue. It happens though. I think I remember reading somewhere it's from adrenaline kicking in really fast.
I made my way towards the room I saw on the side of the house with the moving curtain. I've only been in this house a handful of times. Usually just Christmas or other major family events. I knew Anna from High School so her family and I were close. I found the room I'd seen the hand in and walked in. It just had a bunch of boxes in it, like a storage room. I went to the window and moved the curtains. The curtains were dusty as if they hadn't been moved in a long time. The air started getting heavy. It was almost suffocating. I didn't see anybody in that room or the room next to it which had the second window on the side of the house. I started to go to my car and I ran into one of the officers who were in charge of the crime scene in the house.
“We're almost done here. We have 1 body and... well, one head, correct? I mean... you were the first officer to enter the house, right?” he asked.
“1 body? No. There is 2 bodies and there wasn't just a head. It was a whole body and a body split in two. The upper half is mounted.” I said.
“Oh. Uh. We have the mounted body, but not a whole second body. There's the body mounted on the wall and the lower half beneath it, and a head outside. No second body,” he assured me. I walked as fast as I could into the office. He wasn't lying. The body of Annas mom was missing.
“Nobody took the body of the old woman out of here? None of your officers?!” I demanded. I was getting pretty mad.
“No! We just got here!”
“Well bodies don't just get up and walk away! Then where is the head you found?” I asked, but I assumed it was the head of Anna's mom.
“You didn't see it?” The officer asked. “It's outside. Now... keep in mind we did not touch it or move it or anything. We found it right where it is”.
I walked outside. There was a trail of brown dried blood in the dirt path going to the gravel driveway. I followed it around the back of my car and along the drivers side. The head was sitting on my hood. Who the hell put it up there? There wasn't just a decapitated head when we first got here!
I walked around to the front of my car. The head was facing that way. It was Anna's head. It was terrible. Every single one of her teeth were out of the gums and were shoved into her cheeks and forehead and her eyes were missing, as usual when it comes to Stitch.
I lost it right there. I got on my knees and began to cry. It was the first time I cried since I was a kid. With the never ending disappointment from my parents as a kid and the constant beating, I learned how to hold back my emotions at a young age. It felt good. It really did. My eyes burned and my chest hurt, but it was worth it. It felt like a sack of bricks were lifted off my chest and shoulders. I could think clearer.
“Did you know her?” the officer behind me asked.
“She was my partner at the Seattle Police Department. I've known her most of my life.” I said trying to make out a clear sentence.
Stitch is going to pay for this, I swore to myself. I got up off the ground and opened the driver side door and popped my trunk. I grabbed a pair of disposable gloves from a box along with a pair for the other officers in the barn.
“I don't want to see that on my hood when I get back. And would you mind hosing down my car?” I asked.
“Sure, I guess” he said.
I turned to walk back to the barn and just as I did, I heard a loud neigh from one of the horses. I quickly walked around the house and hopped the fence going into the pasture. I jogged over the officer who was with the horses. One of them was on the ground.
“Is it dead?” I asked.
“Yeah, it passed. We're calling in some people to come take care of this one though, if it's not too late. They should be here soon.” He said.
I walked back into the barn. Everybody else who I left in there were all standing in a circle. Everybody but John, who was sitting in a corner sobbing. I walked to the back of the barn to see what everybody was looking at. There was the rest of Anna's body. Her upper torso in the middle. Her legs and her right arm ripped off, laying feet away. She still had rope around her wrist and ankles. Stitch killed her just as the people in his village killed him. I definitely think he was trying to send a message by killing her the way he died.
“I’m gonna go, John. Do you want to come with me or catch a ride with the FBI?” I said. “Don’t leave me here with them!” he said. I nodded at him and hopped into my car as fast as I could. John got in a minute later after telling the FBI we were leaving. I didn’t think they would be following us now. I looked at the clock. 3 AM. I yawned. I was getting really tired now that the gore wasn’t fueling my adrenaline. We started driving out of Bellingham, in silence once more. Both of us were exhausted. I put the radio on to try to keep us awake.
After a while, the buildings of the city started to become sparse again. As we left the main part of town, the radio started to go to static. Every channel I tried was static. I started getting nervous because of how the videos went to static in the second victim’s death. I saw a white building start to appear in the distance ahead of us. As we pulled up, we saw it was a Catholic parish. A giant church. I usually laugh at those, but Catholic parishes aren’t considered mega churches… Something in me clicked. With all the blood, guts, and gore I’d been seeing, something in me needed to go talk to God. Maybe He could provide some insight to this case. Maybe He could help me regain my sanity and get on track to solving this case. I pulled over and parked the car.
“I’m gonna go in and talk to God for a little bit. I need some help,” I said as I unbuckled. “I’ll stay here. I’m not Christian. Jewish,” he said. “Okay,” I said.
I opened the door and got out of the car. Back into the cold. I walked into the church. I was enormous inside. It had to be to hold 2,000-plus worshipers. I walked past a few stone pillars with holy water in them. Then I walked out of the lobby and into the worship area. There were candles lit all over the place. It shown on the stained glass and made Jesus’ statue look really eerie. His crown of thorns created a shadow on his face and the blood on his hands was black as night. I walked down the aisle between the pews. I walked down one and kneeled on the ground in the middle. I put my hands together and set my forehead on them.
“God?” I started. I didn’t really know what to say. “I need help… I’m scared all the time. Paranoid…” Then all of a sudden all the candles went out. It was weird enough being alone in a church in the middle of the night, but it just got scary when all the light was gone.
I got up off my knees and looked around, spinning in circles. As I turned back around to look at the candles behind the podium, I heard loud bangs. All of the doors were being slammed shut. I turned back around to look at the doors I came in through. I slowly started walking towards them. I could barely see two feet in front of me. I stumbled a couple times on some benches, startling myself each time I made a thud. As I reached the door, on the wall next to it, I saw my shadow. There was a flickering light coming from behind me. I turned back around and saw the first and last row of candles were lit. That was when I started to hear a cracking sound.
It wasn’t a cracking sound like the fingers and necks and spines I’ve been forced to listen to the past couple of months, it sounded like plastic or even porcelain cracking. I looked up at the statue of Jesus on the cross. He had a big long crack going across his chest. It was crumbling right in the middle of his chest. I got closer, and as I got closer, it felt like the room was getting colder. I reached out to touch the statue, and as I did, the crumbling center of his chest fell out and knocked over a bunch of candles.
It knew it was Stitch. The hole was right where his heart would be. The statue started bleeding. Out of the hole, his hands, his feet, his head and his eyes.
I was back on my knees, and I closed my eyes. I’ve never done it before, but I began to pray. I didn’t know how, so I just pleaded for protection. As I was pleading, I heard laughter. That awful laugh that has been haunting me since the beginning of the case.
I needed to get out of there. I ran to the doors, but they were all locked. I started to panic. I started banging on the doors. I turned back around when I heard a loud thump. It was to the right of me. I saw a bible go flying across the room and hit one of the confession booths. I took a step forward, and as I did, more bibles began flying across the room smacking into the confession booth. Was it a sign? I had no idea. I started walking towards the booths. I knew I still wouldn’t be safe, considering what had happened to RepetitiveRoutine, but I didn’t care. I didn’t want to see Stitch’s face again.
I opened the first booth and went in. I sat on the bench, buttoning up my jacket all the way and pulled the top over my mouth. Then it all started. The flame of a candle went shooting into the air in the next booth, hitting the top of the booth and going flat. As it died down, I could make out someone in there.
“Hello, my son,” the familiar, dark voice said. “Uh... Father?” I asked, gulping. “You can call me that if you like. It’s much better than what you have been calling me,” the voice said, beginning to chuckle. “Why are you doing this?” I asked. But I knew I wasn’t going to get a straight answer. “Why?” Stitch asked. “Well you went into the confession first. I am here to forgive you for your sins”. “You’re not a religious man. You’re a monster. A demon!” I yelled. Stitch then began to laugh hysterically. I sat there looking at him through the mesh between the two sections. This whole time, he was looking at the confession booth door. He didn’t look at me once. “I am going to kill you for all that you have done. For Anna!” I yelled again. I looked back up to the other booth and Stitch had his face pressed against the screen. He was smiling at me. I moved from left to right, and his face moved with me. I still don’t know how he was able to follow me like that, what with the skin stitched over his eye sockets.
I closed my eyes and put my hands on my face. It was silent. I could hear my own heartbeat. After a couple minutes, I look back up. Stitch was gone. I sighed and ran my fingers through my hair. I sat back on the bench and just stared off. I can’t remember what I was thinking about, but it was deep.
All of a sudden, I heard a door open in the distance. Footsteps were getting closer and closer. They were fast paced and small. I could tell it was a girl.
“Is there anybody in the church?” she said. “Yeah. I’m… I’m in the confessional,” I said, still not fully thinking straight. “Are you ok? You sound distraught,” she asked. “Yeah I’m ok. Don’t worry about it,” I assured her. “Well why don’t you come out of there and get some fresh air,” she said.
I came out of the booth. It was still dark. There were about 5 candles lit by the podium. I tried focusing my eyes to the darkness and I began looking around. I finally saw the woman. She was a nun in the back of the church, on the opposite side of where I was. She was standing in the shadows. All I could see was the upper half of her body and her head. Something didn’t seem right about her. She just stood there. Not moving at all. Staring at me.
“Would you like to talk about anything?” she asked. As she talked, she looked almost puppet like. Her mouth moved straight up and down and her face never changed. It was expressionless.
“Are you ok?” I asked. I wasn’t sure about her. “What do you mean?” she asked, as she blinked.
Again, she blinked and her face didn’t change. It stayed stiff and plain. Her skin was extremely pale. As pale as the trimming on her habit. I felt sick. I decided I’d just go home before anything else happens.
“Uh.. I’m going to go now,” I said while walking towards the door.
The nun started moving. I could tell she wasn’t walking. It was like she was… bouncing, kind of. She stayed in the shadows though, only showing her upper half.
“I don’t trust you,” I said.
The nun started laughing. She had a high pitched girl laugh that echoed. Half way through her laugh, it started getting deeper. I knew it was Stitch now. But where was he?
“I see I can’t fool you,” his booming dark voice echoed. “Would you like to see my latest toy?” As he said that, the nun started bouncing towards the candles. I walked backwards as she got closer to the podium. My back was almost against the door.
She got in the light of the candle. I was horrified. Stitch was standing right behind her, and he also was wearing a habit. Not only was he wearing a habit, but he also had a crown of thorns on his head. It looked like his arm was around her.
“This is one of my favorites,” he said while laughing.
He started humming. I saw what was going on. He started spinning around with the nun. He wasn’t holding onto her at all. He had his left arm in her back. A big bloody hole in her back. His elbow was bent, as if his forearm and hand was in her head. He made her bounce, like a child would make a Barbie doll bounce when they would pretend the Barbie was walking. As she bounced around walking around the stage, her arms flailed in all directions. Stitch repeatedly opened her mouth and closed it. I could hear her teeth slamming shut even in the back where I was. It made my mouth hurt. He made her blink a couple of times, then he picked her up with both hands and slammed her on the ground.
“She was fun. But I’m done with her now,” he said. “I need a new thing to play with.”
He finished his sentence and I started looking around for a way out. I looked towards the statue of Jesus at the front of the room. Something about the statue was different than minutes before. I could see something in the chest. I squinted my eyes and got a little bit closer. I saw hands coming out of the hole in his chest. They were facing opposite directions. I started to get closer and with each step, I could hear someone singing some sort of religious song. It wasn't in English though so I had no idea what they were saying. I started going up the steps towards the statue. I froze in terror at what I saw next.
The hands started pulling apart the chest of the statue and a head popped out. It was RepetitiveRoutine. I recognized his hair and his face from my dream. He didn't say anything. He just crawled out of the statue and fell to the ground on what was left of his legs. He landed right on his femur and the cracking and snapping sound made me want to rip my ears off. He started pointing behind me. I didn't want to turn my back on him, but I couldn't help it. I turned around and saw Stitch standing right in front of a big stained glass window.
He ripped off his habit and started to rub his chest. He rubbed from his chest, around the burned cross on his chest up his neck and onto his face. He started humming again. And as he hummed, the main door opened again. I turned around as fast as I could to run out. I took 2 steps and then I heard bubbling. I looked up and saw the holy water was boiling. I didn’t know what to do. I turned back around and saw Stitch running towards me, full speed and yelling like a mad man.
I blacked out. I don’t remember anything after that.
When I woke up, I was in FBI custody. I was lying on a bed in the infirmary of the prison downtown. I jerked up and rubbed my face to wake myself up.
“How long have I been out?” I asked the woman on the other side of the room.
“Just a few hours. It’s 11 o’ clock in the morning. Some FBI people want to talk to you when you feel up to it,” she said. I put my feet on the ground and stretched before standing up.
“Where do they want to see me?” I asked. She pointed out the door.
“Someone’s been waiting for you outside,” she said. I walked out the door into the familiar plain hallway.
On a wooden bench on the wall, there was the man who interrogated me the first time. He gestured for me to follow when he stood up. We walked down the hall and walked into the same room we’d been in before. I sat down at the table again and waiting for something to happen. The man left the room and came back with a folder. He sat down across from me.
“Okay, first things first. We know you stole the journal in your file. But that’s not the real issue here. You’re being charged with vandalism,” he said. “What?!” I said loudly. I nearly burst from the chair I was sitting in. “What do you think I vandalized?” The answer was obvious but I couldn’t be sure. They were pinning all kinds of crap on me.
“The church,” the man said. I just shook my head at him. “I didn’t do anything. Just watch the tapes. It’s a mega church, they probably have cameras everywhere,” I said.
The man looked stunned. Apparently I was better at his job than he was. How hard is it to look at tapes before trying to convict someone of something?
“Fine,” the man said. “We’ll call you back in when we prove you did it.” I thanked him and stood up.
I walked out of the building and the sun burned my eyes. It was sunny for once. Maybe that was a good sign. Maybe my visit to the church did some good. I found my car outside. They must’ve towed it here after they found me. I got into my car and drove back to my apartment. I didn’t know what was going to happen, but the sun made me hopeful.

---

update on FBI, John and my charges

Hello everybody. This is Ryan. I just wanted to update you on a few things. Well... I guess there isn't much to update.
I haven't heard anything back from the FBI involving my charges of vandalism. I just hope they get the security tape from the camera that watches the main entrance to the church. They will be able to see the boiling holy water and other things that happened that even they won’t be able to explain. They'd have no choice but to drop the charges... at least I hope.
Also, John and I haven't been talking. Or even working together. He hasn't called or texted or emailed since that day. I don't even know what happened to him considering I blacked out and woke up in the prison.
Oh and that's another thing. I blacked out right as Stitch started running towards me dragging RepetitiveRoutine behind him... it wasn't a dream. It was real. I'm being charged with vandalism for it. But that's not what's confusing. What is confusing is why did Stitch not just kill me and end this? I don't understand. He had me cornered and alone. Does he like the attention? That's possible, I guess.
I still can't get all the images of what we saw that day out of my head. That bastard fed the horse to the other two horses... just left the horses hooves there on the ground along with his tail and mane. We found Anna’s head. Stitch impersonated Jesus while wearing a crown of thorns and a habit. I almost want to pass this case onto another Detective but I can't do that with good conscience. I’m not even allowed to, considering now that Anna’s gone, I’m supposed to be the best detective here… We're so close though. I know it.
This will all be over soon. I promise, reddit. You won't have to be scared any longer very soon.

I

WHEN Miss Emily Grierson died, our whole town went to her funeral: the men through a sort of respectful affection for a fallen monument, the women mostly out of curiosity to see the inside of her house, which no one save an old man-servant--a combined gardener and cook--had seen in at least ten years.

It was a big, squarish frame house that had once been white, decorated with cupolas and spires and scrolled balconies in the heavily lightsome style of the seventies, set on what had once been our most select street. But garages and cotton gins had encroached and obliterated even the august names of that neighborhood; only Miss Emily's house was left, lifting its stubborn and coquettish decay above the cotton wagons and the gasoline pumps-an eyesore among eyesores. And now Miss Emily had gone to join the representatives of those august names where they lay in the cedar-bemused cemetery among the ranked and anonymous graves of Union and Confederate soldiers who fell at the battle of Jefferson.

Alive, Miss Emily had been a tradition, a duty, and a care; a sort of hereditary obligation upon the town, dating from that day in 1894 when Colonel Sartoris, the mayor--he who fathered the edict that no Negro woman should appear on the streets without an apron-remitted her taxes, the dispensation dating from the death of her father on into perpetuity. Not that Miss Emily would have accepted charity. Colonel Sartoris invented an involved tale to the effect that Miss Emily's father had loaned money to the town, which the town, as a matter of business, preferred this way of repaying. Only a man of Colonel Sartoris' generation and thought could have invented it, and only a woman could have believed it.

When the next generation, with its more modern ideas, became mayors and aldermen, this arrangement created some little dissatisfaction. On the first of the year they mailed her a tax notice. February came, and there was no reply. They wrote her a formal letter, asking her to call at the sheriff's office at her convenience. A week later the mayor wrote her himself, offering to call or to send his car for her, and received in reply a note on paper of an archaic shape, in a thin, flowing calligraphy in faded ink, to the effect that she no longer went out at all. The tax notice was also enclosed, without comment.

They called a special meeting of the Board of Aldermen. A deputation waited upon her, knocked at the door through which no visitor had passed since she ceased giving china-painting lessons eight or ten years earlier. They were admitted by the old Negro into a dim hall from which a stairway mounted into still more shadow. It smelled of dust and disuse--a close, dank smell. The Negro led them into the parlor. It was furnished in heavy, leather-covered furniture. When the Negro opened the blinds of one window, they could see that the leather was cracked; and when they sat down, a faint dust rose sluggishly about their thighs, spinning with slow motes in the single sun-ray. On a tarnished gilt easel before the fireplace stood a crayon portrait of Miss Emily's father.

They rose when she entered--a small, fat woman in black, with a thin gold chain descending to her waist and vanishing into her belt, leaning on an ebony cane with a tarnished gold head. Her skeleton was small and spare; perhaps that was why what would have been merely plumpness in another was obesity in her. She looked bloated, like a body long submerged in motionless water, and of that pallid hue. Her eyes, lost in the fatty ridges of her face, looked like two small pieces of coal pressed into a lump of dough as they moved from one face to another while the visitors stated their errand.

She did not ask them to sit. She just stood in the door and listened quietly until the spokesman came to a stumbling halt. Then they could hear the invisible watch ticking at the end of the gold chain.

Her voice was dry and cold. "I have no taxes in Jefferson. Colonel Sartoris explained it to me. Perhaps one of you can gain access to the city records and satisfy yourselves."

"But we have. We are the city authorities, Miss Emily. Didn't you get a notice from the sheriff, signed by him?"

"I received a paper, yes," Miss Emily said. "Perhaps he considers himself the sheriff . . . I have no taxes in Jefferson."

"But there is nothing on the books to show that, you see We must go by the--"

"See Colonel Sartoris. I have no taxes in Jefferson."

"But, Miss Emily--"

"See Colonel Sartoris." (Colonel Sartoris had been dead almost ten years.) "I have no taxes in Jefferson. Tobe!" The Negro appeared. "Show these gentlemen out."

---

II

So SHE vanquished them, horse and foot, just as she had vanquished their fathers thirty years before about the smell.

That was two years after her father's death and a short time after her sweetheart--the one we believed would marry her --had deserted her. After her father's death she went out very little; after her sweetheart went away, people hardly saw her at all. A few of the ladies had the temerity to call, but were not received, and the only sign of life about the place was the Negro man--a young man then--going in and out with a market basket.

"Just as if a man--any man--could keep a kitchen properly, "the ladies said; so they were not surprised when the smell developed. It was another link between the gross, teeming world and the high and mighty Griersons.

A neighbor, a woman, complained to the mayor, Judge Stevens, eighty years old.

"But what will you have me do about it, madam?" he said.

"Why, send her word to stop it," the woman said. "Isn't there a law? "

"I'm sure that won't be necessary," Judge Stevens said. "It's probably just a snake or a rat that nigger of hers killed in the yard. I'll speak to him about it."

The next day he received two more complaints, one from a man who came in diffident deprecation. "We really must do something about it, Judge. I'd be the last one in the world to bother Miss Emily, but we've got to do something." That night the Board of Aldermen met--three graybeards and one younger man, a member of the rising generation.

"It's simple enough," he said. "Send her word to have her place cleaned up. Give her a certain time to do it in, and if she don't. .."

"Dammit, sir," Judge Stevens said, "will you accuse a lady to her face of smelling bad?"

So the next night, after midnight, four men crossed Miss Emily's lawn and slunk about the house like burglars, sniffing along the base of the brickwork and at the cellar openings while one of them performed a regular sowing motion with his hand out of a sack slung from his shoulder. They broke open the cellar door and sprinkled lime there, and in all the outbuildings. As they recrossed the lawn, a window that had been dark was lighted and Miss Emily sat in it, the light behind her, and her upright torso motionless as that of an idol. They crept quietly across the lawn and into the shadow of the locusts that lined the street. After a week or two the smell went away.

That was when people had begun to feel really sorry for her. People in our town, remembering how old lady Wyatt, her great-aunt, had gone completely crazy at last, believed that the Griersons held themselves a little too high for what they really were. None of the young men were quite good enough for Miss Emily and such. We had long thought of them as a tableau, Miss Emily a slender figure in white in the background, her father a spraddled silhouette in the foreground, his back to her and clutching a horsewhip, the two of them framed by the back-flung front door. So when she got to be thirty and was still single, we were not pleased exactly, but vindicated; even with insanity in the family she wouldn't have turned down all of her chances if they had really materialized.

When her father died, it got about that the house was all that was left to her; and in a way, people were glad. At last they could pity Miss Emily. Being left alone, and a pauper, she had become humanized. Now she too would know the old thrill and the old despair of a penny more or less.

The day after his death all the ladies prepared to call at the house and offer condolence and aid, as is our custom Miss Emily met them at the door, dressed as usual and with no trace of grief on her face. She told them that her father was not dead. She did that for three days, with the ministers calling on her, and the doctors, trying to persuade her to let them dispose of the body. Just as they were about to resort to law and force, she broke down, and they buried her father quickly.

We did not say she was crazy then. We believed she had to do that. We remembered all the young men her father had driven away, and we knew that with nothing left, she would have to cling to that which had robbed her, as people will.

---

III

SHE WAS SICK for a long time. When we saw her again, her hair was cut short, making her look like a girl, with a vague resemblance to those angels in colored church windows--sort of tragic and serene.

The town had just let the contracts for paving the sidewalks, and in the summer after her father's death they began the work. The construction company came with niggers and mules and machinery, and a foreman named Homer Barron, a Yankee--a big, dark, ready man, with a big voice and eyes lighter than his face. The little boys would follow in groups to hear him cuss the niggers, and the niggers singing in time to the rise and fall of picks. Pretty soon he knew everybody in town. Whenever you heard a lot of laughing anywhere about the square, Homer Barron would be in the center of the group. Presently we began to see him and Miss Emily on Sunday afternoons driving in the yellow-wheeled buggy and the matched team of bays from the livery stable.

At first we were glad that Miss Emily would have an interest, because the ladies all said, "Of course a Grierson would not think seriously of a Northerner, a day laborer." But there were still others, older people, who said that even grief could not cause a real lady to forget noblesse oblige- -
without calling it noblesse oblige. They just said, "Poor Emily. Her kinsfolk should come to her." She had some kin in Alabama; but years ago her father had fallen out with them over the estate of old lady Wyatt, the crazy woman, and there was no communication between the two families. They had not even been represented at the funeral.

And as soon as the old people said, "Poor Emily," the whispering began. "Do you suppose it's really so?" they said to one another. "Of course it is. What else could . . ." This behind their hands; rustling of craned silk and satin behind jalousies closed upon the sun of Sunday afternoon as the thin, swift clop-clop-clop of the matched team passed: "Poor Emily."

She carried her head high enough--even when we believed that she was fallen. It was as if she demanded more than ever the recognition of her dignity as the last Grierson; as if it had wanted that touch of earthiness to reaffirm her imperviousness. Like when she bought the rat poison, the arsenic. That was over a year after they had begun to say "Poor Emily," and while the two female cousins were visiting her.

"I want some poison," she said to the druggist. She was over thirty then, still a slight woman, though thinner than usual, with cold, haughty black eyes in a face the flesh of which was strained across the temples and about the eyesockets as you imagine a lighthouse-keeper's face ought to look. "I want some poison," she said.

"Yes, Miss Emily. What kind? For rats and such? I'd recom--"

"I want the best you have. I don't care what kind."

The druggist named several. "They'll kill anything up to an elephant. But what you want is--"

"Arsenic," Miss Emily said. "Is that a good one?"

"Is . . . arsenic? Yes, ma'am. But what you want--"

"I want arsenic."

The druggist looked down at her. She looked back at him, erect, her face like a strained flag. "Why, of course," the druggist said. "If that's what you want. But the law requires you to tell what you are going to use it for."

Miss Emily just stared at him, her head tilted back in order to look him eye for eye, until he looked away and went and got the arsenic and wrapped it up. The Negro delivery boy brought her the package; the druggist didn't come back. When she opened the package at home there was written on the box, under the skull and bones: "For rats."

---

IV

So THE NEXT day we all said, "She will kill herself"; and we said it would be the best thing. When she had first begun to be seen with Homer Barron, we had said, "She will marry him." Then we said, "She will persuade him yet," because Homer himself had remarked--he liked men, and it was known that he drank with the younger men in the Elks' Club--that he was not a marrying man. Later we said, "Poor Emily" behind the jalousies as they passed on Sunday afternoon in the glittering buggy, Miss Emily with her head high and Homer Barron with his hat cocked and a cigar in his teeth, reins and whip in a yellow glove.

Then some of the ladies began to say that it was a disgrace to the town and a bad example to the young people. The men did not want to interfere, but at last the ladies forced the Baptist minister--Miss Emily's people were Episcopal-- to call upon her. He would never divulge what happened during that interview, but he refused to go back again. The next Sunday they again drove about the streets, and the following day the minister's wife wrote to Miss Emily's relations in Alabama.

So she had blood-kin under her roof again and we sat back to watch developments. At first nothing happened. Then we were sure that they were to be married. We learned that Miss Emily had been to the jeweler's and ordered a man's toilet set in silver, with the letters H. B. on each piece. Two days later we learned that she had bought a complete outfit of men's clothing, including a nightshirt, and we said, "They are married." We were really glad. We were glad because the two female cousins were even more Grierson than Miss Emily had ever been.

So we were not surprised when Homer Barron--the streets had been finished some time since--was gone. We were a little disappointed that there was not a public blowing-off, but we believed that he had gone on to prepare for Miss Emily's coming, or to give her a chance to get rid of the cousins. (By that time it was a cabal, and we were all Miss Emily's allies to help circumvent the cousins.) Sure enough, after another week they departed. And, as we had expected all along, within three days Homer Barron was back in town. A neighbor saw the Negro man admit him at the kitchen door at dusk one evening.

And that was the last we saw of Homer Barron. And of Miss Emily for some time. The Negro man went in and out with the market basket, but the front door remained closed. Now and then we would see her at a window for a moment, as the men did that night when they sprinkled the lime, but for almost six months she did not appear on the streets. Then we knew that this was to be expected too; as if that quality of her father which had thwarted her woman's life so many times had been too virulent and too furious to die.

When we next saw Miss Emily, she had grown fat and her hair was turning gray. During the next few years it grew grayer and grayer until it attained an even pepper-and-salt iron-gray, when it ceased turning. Up to the day of her death at seventy-four it was still that vigorous iron-gray, like the hair of an active man.

From that time on her front door remained closed, save for a period of six or seven years, when she was about forty, during which she gave lessons in china-painting. She fitted up a studio in one of the downstairs rooms, where the daughters and granddaughters of Colonel Sartoris' contemporaries were sent to her with the same regularity and in the same spirit that they were sent to church on Sundays with a twenty-five-cent piece for the collection plate. Meanwhile her taxes had been remitted.

Then the newer generation became the backbone and the spirit of the town, and the painting pupils grew up and fell away and did not send their children to her with boxes of color and tedious brushes and pictures cut from the ladies' magazines. The front door closed upon the last one and remained closed for good. When the town got free postal delivery, Miss Emily alone refused to let them fasten the metal numbers above her door and attach a mailbox to it. She would not listen to them.

Daily, monthly, yearly we watched the Negro grow grayer and more stooped, going in and out with the market basket. Each December we sent her a tax notice, which would be returned by the post office a week later, unclaimed. Now and then we would see her in one of the downstairs windows--she had evidently shut up the top floor of the house--like the carven torso of an idol in a niche, looking or not looking at us, we could never tell which. Thus she passed from generation to generation--dear, inescapable, impervious, tranquil, and perverse.

And so she died. Fell ill in the house filled with dust and shadows, with only a doddering Negro man to wait on her. We did not even know she was sick; we had long since given up trying to get any information from the Negro

He talked to no one, probably not even to her, for his voice had grown harsh and rusty, as if from disuse.

She died in one of the downstairs rooms, in a heavy walnut bed with a curtain, her gray head propped on a pillow yellow and moldy with age and lack of sunlight.

---

V

THE NEGRO met the first of the ladies at the front door and let them in, with their hushed, sibilant voices and their quick, curious glances, and then he disappeared. He walked right through the house and out the back and was not seen again.

The two female cousins came at once. They held the funeral on the second day, with the town coming to look at Miss Emily beneath a mass of bought flowers, with the crayon face of her father musing profoundly above the bier and the ladies sibilant and macabre; and the very old men --some in their brushed Confederate uniforms--on the porch and the lawn, talking of Miss Emily as if she had been a contemporary of theirs, believing that they had danced with her and courted her perhaps, confusing time with its mathematical progression, as the old do, to whom all the past is not a diminishing road but, instead, a huge meadow which no winter ever quite touches, divided from them now by the narrow bottle-neck of the most recent decade of years.

Already we knew that there was one room in that region above stairs which no one had seen in forty years, and which would have to be forced. They waited until Miss Emily was decently in the ground before they opened it.

The violence of breaking down the door seemed to fill this room with pervading dust. A thin, acrid pall as of the tomb seemed to lie everywhere upon this room decked and furnished as for a bridal: upon the valance curtains of faded rose color, upon the rose-shaded lights, upon the dressing table, upon the delicate array of crystal and the man's toilet things backed with tarnished silver, silver so tarnished that the monogram was obscured. Among them lay a collar and tie, as if they had just been removed, which, lifted, left upon the surface a pale crescent in the dust. Upon a chair hung the suit, carefully folded; beneath it the two mute shoes and the discarded socks.

The man himself lay in the bed.

For a long while we just stood there, looking down at the profound and fleshless grin. The body had apparently once lain in the attitude of an embrace, but now the long sleep that outlasts love, that conquers even the grimace of love, had cuckolded him. What was left of him, rotted beneath what was left of the nightshirt, had become inextricable from the bed in which he lay; and upon him and upon the pillow beside him lay that even coating of the patient and biding dust.

Then we noticed that in the second pillow was the indentation of a head. One of us lifted something from it, and leaning forward, that faint and invisible dust dry and acrid in the nostrils, we saw a long strand of iron-gray hair.

Encouragement

"Oh, here they come." squawked Denise as the pack of lab coats rounded the corner. Phoebe looked on from the nurses station, intrigued. It was always fun watching the up-and-coming doctors at work, learning and developing their skills. The flock was rather large this time around and, from what she had overheard, brimming with talent. Phoebe set her chin to rest in the palm of her hand, fingertips against her left temple amidst a thicket of brown curls. A smirk cracked across her face.

"Showtime."

The swarm of interns rushed around the bay, taking note of the room as a whole. The tile floors were still polished to a mirror shine from the night before. The sterile smell of the hospital was particularly strong here. Around them, there was an open area lined with beds, some of which were occupied with patients of various ages and with various conditions. Blue curtains were positioned such that each bed could be isolated behind them, though most were left open. The group approached the bed of an older man with thinning gray hair and a more-than-obvious beer gut. Leading the pack was Doctor Marie Harrier, who boasted a double PhD at the age of 23.

"Mr. Mason has been experiencing stomach troubles and occasional blood in his stool. What diagnosis would you put forth, based on his prior medical history?" Harrier gave a quick glance into the crowd. "Bevins?"

"U-uh, my first guess would be Crohn's disease, ma'am."

"And I would be inclined to agree with you, but we do not simply guess here. Take note: Show confidence in your answers to questions of this nature, even if you do not believe them wholeheartedly. Having a straight answer to a patient is far better than beating around the bush because you aren't sure." Each member of the group scribbled onto the pages held by their clipboards. "Now, what sort of treatment would you recommend, Neuberry?"

Hanson perked up from his clipboard. "Normally, I'd say Azathioprine, but given his stomach troubles, he may be more responsive to an anti-inflammatory regimen to begin with."

"He's tryin' to play it safe." Denise chattered in a hushed tone from behind Phoebe. "That's one way to go, but it's less effective. He should have just gone with the immune suppressors."

"Yeah, but Mr. Mason is gettin' up there in years, and immune suppressors may be too much for him." Phoebe offered in response.

"That is a possible treatment plan," Harrier responded, "but there is a good chance that it won't have the desired effect. Patients expect results, and as a doctor it will be your job to provide them."

"Yes, ma'am." Hanson's expression dropped to a downcast state for a split second, before snapping back to attention. The group hurried onward to the next patient in line.

"See. I told you." Denise gave a light slap to Phoebe's arm.

"You say that like I was the one in that crowd putting my career on the line." Phoebe retorted with a vindictive smile. "It's not my problem if they get it wrong, as long as I'm not involved in the fallout."

But her thoughts said otherwise. Phoebe was intrigued by the rounds process, by watching doctors hurry and scurry around. She knew fully well that most of what the doctors did was, in fact, the work of the nursing staff. Still, it was interesting to see their minds at work. Each one had a different style, a different way of talking to patients, of forming ideas, of dealing with decisions. All of that was on display for her and her cohort 24/7, and yet it never seemed to get old. It wasn't the people that intrigued her so much, but rather the clockwork within their heads.

But, alas, the flock had departed, and it was back to work as usual. An uneventful day followed the brief training session, a rarity for Phoebe. The day was almost dull with how little was going on. A few pillows fluffed, pills delivered, and bedpans exchanged, but nothing severe: no codes, no dire admittances, no flat-lines. This was the sort of day that left Phoebe sluggish; not drained or exhausted, but slowed and shambling, moving only to accomplish a task and proceed to the next.

When midday came and it was time for a break, Phoebe found that she was having trouble keeping her eyes open. Stumbling her way into the cafeteria, she was surprised to find that Denise was nowhere in sight. Confusion crossed through her mind, but was eased by virtue of memory as Phoebe recalled an impromptu change in personnel around this time that was discussed the day prior.

Her worries put to rest, Phoebe now had the conundrum of where to sit. Normally, it would be with Denise, as they were on the same shift, but her replacement was Garret, a boorish, overconfident man who had made it a point to be obnoxiously forward with Phoebe at every opportunity. This, of course, was not an exercise that she wished to entertain, and so was at a loss for an alternative.

The room was filled nearly to capacity, as it seemed that the intern conglomeration had all been dismissed at once. Most of the tables were completely taken up, with only sparse occupation of other seats. Phoebe's eye caught one of the interns sitting in solitude, despite the table being large enough to accommodate up to four. He seemed lost in thought, and downtrodden in expression. She decided to introduce herself, and provide a little encouragement.

"Hey there." she said, her tray clacking quietly against the table. She swiveled her chair into place, getting a good look at the man. His hair was layered with black and brown, and despite being in fair order, Phoebe guessed that it was only because of the gel that locked it in place. The rest of his appearance, though in good shape in general, was at this point in time disheveled, radiating exhaustion. Phoebe could tell there were dark rings beginning to form around his eyes from lack of sleep. Still, he clearly valued the opportunity; he was freshly shaven, and a hint of cologne met her nose.

He looked up, seemingly out of his own thoughts, as she sat down. Lifting his head, he was surprised to see anyone choosing to sit with him. "O-oh, hi. Sorry, it's just been a long day, and I'm a bit out of it, and, uh..." he stumbled over his own words. Phoebe let out a small laugh, mildly amused by the awkward response she had forced.

"Don't worry about it. It's pretty common for the interns to wind up like that. It's something you learn to live with, or find a way around. One of the two." She chuckled again. "I'm Phoebe, one of the nurses here." she said as she stretched out a hand.

He took it carefully, replying "Hanson. Neuberry." Her Bostonian accent was clearly evident. He surmised that she was probably born and raised in Massachusetts.

"Garrigs." she offered in return, before clarifying, "My last name."

"A pleasure." he offered politely, though the strain in his voice was still apparent.

"Weren't you the one that was supposed to give a treatment for Mr. Mason?"

"Who?" Hanson gave a momentary puzzled look, but remembered. "Oh, the Crohn's patient. Yeah, I didn't really get full marks for that one." he said, embarrassed and absentmindedly running his fingers though his hair.

"Yeah, I noticed. But, if it's any consolation, I thought it was a good call to make."

"Yeah?" he said, unconvinced.

"Mmhmm. Some of the doctors here can be really aggressive with their treatments. I get that they want to cure the patient and get 'em out of here, but sometimes there's got to be a limit."

"So, you think an approach like that would do this place some good?"

"Oh yeah. You ask me, we need more people like that."

"Well, how flattering." Hanson retorted in a playfully mocking tone.

There was a moment of silence between the two, each understanding that they had struck a chord with one another.

"So, what are you in for?" Phoebe inquired.

"Huh? In for?" Hanson was once again perplexed.

Phoebe gave a small chuckle. "I mean what sorta field are you going into? What's your specialty gonna be?"

"Oh. Uh, hehe..." Hanson's voice trailed off at that.

"You have picked a specialty, haven't you?"

"Y-yeah, I have. It's just.." Hanson cut off once again.

"Just, what?" Phoebe pressed for more information. Her curiosity was growing as he not-so-tactfully evaded her question.

Hanson took a breath, and sighed deeply. "Surgeon." Phoebe's expression changed, her eyebrows raised as high as she could press them. "I know," Hanson continued, "no chance in hell, right?"

"N-no, no, it's not that. I'm just surprised is all." She tried desperately to backpedal and save face. "I mean, surgery is a major role. It's not something you can just go and do. Surely you know that."

"So, you're saying I can't do it."

"No. Th-that's not what I meant." Phoebe struggled with her words. Her cheeks reddened as she realized how deep a hole she was digging herself into. She closed her eyes and collected her thoughts for a brief moment, before speaking up again. "All I'm sayin' is that if you're gonna go that route, you gotta make sure you're ready."

Hanson did his best to smile through the comment, backhanded as he felt it was. "Yeah. I get it."

Phoebe let out a small sigh of relief. "Good."

"So, how do I know if I'm good enough?"

The question caught her off guard. She hadn't really interacted much with the interns before, and so had never been asked to evaluate their performance, much less on skills she hadn't seen them perform.

"W-well, I guess it all comes down to execution. Can you do the job and keep the patient alive? I'd say that's a good place to start."

"Yeah, I suppose. But that's only causing another problem. We're obviously not permitted to operate on live patients so early into it. How the hell are we supposed to learn anything like that?"

Phoebe glanced around, as though worried that she'd be overheard.

"I think they have some mock-ups somewhere around here that you're supposed to practice on." she said, unsure of whether it was her place to give out that sort of information.

"Oh yeah?" Hanson's head perked up slightly, and he seemed more alert. "Whereabouts?"

"I'm honestly not sure. I guess they'd be near the operating room. Maybe Dr. Harrier would be willing to show you, if you asked."

"Heh. That may not be a bad idea." He stood from the table, tray in hand. Most of the food remained uneaten on it. "Thanks."

"Ooh, are you headed out? Mind if I snag your fries?"

Hanson chuckled at the urgency with which she asked the question. "Sure thing." he said with a smile, setting the small, cardboard carton down onto her tray. "I'll see you around."

"Mmm, you too." Phoebe replied through a mouth full of sliced spuds.

Despite her scatterbrained appearance in that moment, however, her mind was racing to figure him out. How was someone like that going to turn himself into a surgeon? It'd happened before, no doubt, but he just didn't seem very confident in his abilities. She found herself looking forward to what he would become.

---

Failure

Months went by, and the cycle of interns shifted. A new batch was brought in, and the previous flock was set to their own course. Phoebe looked on with great interest as the fresh minds went to work on their rounds.

"So, you got a favorite yet?" Denise crooned into her ear.

Phoebe recoiled slightly, a slight sense of violation sending a shiver down her spine. The feeling passed though, and despite being mildly discomforted by her companion, Phoebe replied, "They all just got here. Kinda hard to pick a favorite out of a nameless swarm of lab coats."

"I'm not talking about them." Denise said through a giggle. "I'm talking about the last set. They've all set out to be full-fledged doctors, saving lives..." She clasped her hands together and turned her head upward in feigned wanderlust. "Surely, by now you've found at least one you like." she said, turning to Phoebe and out of her mock performance.

"Well, yeah, a few. I feel like most of 'em just went along with Harrier, though. They're all too aggressive with treatment, and that's gonna put a lotta strain on a lotta people, includin' us." Phoebe spoke as she moved, organizing a stack of charts that she had been neglecting.

"Well, I happen to know that there's at least one that you're 'interested' in." Denise nudged Phoebe's side, a clear hint of her meaning.

"W-what? What are you talkin' about." Phoebe looked around frantically, her cheeks turning a deep shade of red.

"Hah! You can't even hide it. I knew it."

"Yeah, say it louder, won't ya." Phoebe whispered through grit teeth. "I think some people in China didn't hear you."

"Oh come on. You know I'm just teasing."

"Yeah, well knock it off."

"So, who is the lucky guy?" Denise asked, her chin resting upon her interlaced fingers.

"I thought you knew all about him already." Phoebe retorted in a somewhat mocking tone.

"Oh, no, not at all. I've seen you talkin' with someone recently, but I got no clue who he is. I was just tryin' to get a reaction outta ya."

"Pfft. Some friend you are."

"Come on, seriously. I wanna know."

"You always wanna know." Phoebe raised her voice, genuinely aggravated with Denise's prodding. "Maybe I just want to keep this to myself for now, at least until I'm sure this is something I actually want."

"Fine." Denise put her hands up in defense. "Fair's fair. I'm mostly just happy you're puttin' yourself out there. It's about damn time."

"Watch your language, ladies. You're on the clock." A stern voice arose from behind Phoebe. Turning to investigate, the pair watched as Dr. Harrier strode quickly around the corner.

"Sorry, Doctor." Denise offered in response. Harrier's pace didn't slow, and seconds later, she was back out of sight.

"Well, in any case, you'll probably get to know him a whole lot better soon. We're really hittin' things off. I'm just waitin' for him to ask me somewhere."

"You don't think that's a little archaic?" Denise asked, skeptical.

"I think it's romantic, and nice." Phoebe retorted, partly in jest.

"Well, just don't wait too long. He might give up if you don't seem interested."

"I don't think I've gotta worry about that." Phoebe replied as a loud tone alerted her to a request for her help. She jogged around the desk before heading down the hall, toward the source of the page.

After brief preparation, Phoebe entered the operating room to find the chief of surgery, Dr. Barlow, and the newly-christened Dr. Neuberry. The patient was an elderly woman, likely in her mid-70's. Her abdominal region was exposed to the room, the rest of her covered with a blue blanket. Bright lights hung from swivels in the ceiling, allowing for each to be adjusted. Surgical instruments were laid out carefully on a rolling metal tray-table. The door clattered closed behind Phoebe as she entered, gloved hands held in such a way as to not contaminate them.

"What have we got?" she asked, her voice muffled slightly by the mask.

"Foreign object in the stomach." The surgeon spoke with a deep baritone, almost stereotypical for his African-American heritage. "It's rather large, and the procedure should be relatively simple. As such, I'm allowing Dr. Neuberry to lead on this one. You and I are here to make sure everything goes smoothly." Dr. Barlow then turned to Hanson. "You may proceed."

"Alright." Hanson said, stretching his hands inside the latex gloves. "DuraPrep." Barlow set a short, sponge-tipped wand/syringe into his outstretched hand. Writing on the handle portion of the wand gave instructions for use, but Hanson went straight to work applying the sterilization liquid to the patient's abdomen. As he went, an amber solution liberally coated the work area.

"Scalpel." Hanson requested, handing the wand back to Barlow.

"Which one, Dr. Neuberry?" Barlow asked, clearly testing Hanson on his basic knowledge.

"A-ah, 10." Hanson considered his options again. "N-no, wait, 20."

"Are you sure?" Barlow's tone was both scolding and questioning at once.

"Y-yes." Hanson replied, uncertain and unnerved.

Barlow retrieved the requested blade and set it gingerly in Hanson's hand. "Thank you." Hanson said quickly. Phoebe could sense that something was off. Hanson's movements had become a bit more jittery, a bit more twitchy. These traits were slight, but present nonetheless. She knew what was going to come next.

Sure enough, as Hanson lowered the knife-point to the woman's abdomen, his hands began to shake ever-so-slightly. He realized it immediately, and took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. To no avail, it seemed, and the tremors grew more intense. Soon both his hands were shaking so badly that he could barely hold the delicate handle of the lancet.

"Is something wrong, Doctor?" said Barlow, more telling than asking.

"N-no, no, I'm fine." Hanson replied, but the shaking persisted.

Barlow sighed beneath his mask. "Why don't you step out. I can handle this from here."

"N-no, I want to do this." he almost shouted in response. However, as he turned to face Dr. Barlow, his fingers parted just enough for the scalpel to slip free. The tiny metal blade clinked and clattered loudly on the tile below.

"That's enough." Barlow tried to sound calm and reassuring, but his tone came across as stern. "Clearly, you are not in suitable shape to be performing surgery at this time. Please, step out of the OR."

Hanson fumed, but didn't argue. He turned to leave in a huff, throwing the doors open wide. As they clattered back into place, Phoebe looked to Dr. Barlow.

"You may be dismissed as well, miss Garrigs. I only paged you so I could have a little help overseeing his first attempt. Obviously, that's no longer the case." Barlow gestured to the slowly-rocking double doors, illustrating his point.

Phoebe also did not argue. Her concerns lay elsewhere. She, too, exited the operating room, carefully opening and closing the door so as not to disturb Barlow further. Once in the prep room, she found Hanson standing over a sink, hair dripping with water. His hands, though pressed to the rim of the sink, were still barely quivering.

"Damn it." Hanson growled through his teeth.

"Hey, don't worry about it. Nerves are a tough thing to overcome."

"Don't give me that. I should be able to do this by now. I'm so far behind. Why can't I just get it?" He was practically shouting at this point, his head now pressed against the mirror above the basin.

"Alright, alright. Calm down. It's not as big a deal as you're makin' it out to be." Phoebe put a hand on Hanson's shoulder. "All it'll take is some more practice with the dummies."

"I do practice. All the time; every free moment, I spend here trying to improve."

"That's great, but all this does is make you better at surgery. It doesn't make you a better surgeon." Phoebe turned him to look at her, and offered a small smile. She knew the best thing to do was to be patient with him. He would come around, she was sure of it. "How's about we clear that head o' yours?"

"Yeah," he retorted, still clearly upset. "how do you plan on doing that?"

"By askin' you where you're takin' me tonight." she said. Hands behind her back, she rocked slowly left and right on one foot.

"Huh? What are you..." Hanson cut himself off, understanding what she was asking of him. "Ahh, alright. I suppose that'll work." he said, cracking a smile. "How about Vennetti's, a few blocks from here?"

"Ooh, I haven't been there in a couple years." Phoebe tittered, excited by what her newly-hooked date had in store for her. Funnily, Hanson was feeling much the same curiosity for what she had planned.

---

Dinner Date

The atmosphere of the restaurant was a welcome change compared to the constant bustle and ambient whine of the hospital. Here, with the lights dimmed, the booths well padded, and uniforms exchanged for more formal attire, Hanson and Phoebe felt relaxed. In truth, this was the most relieved either had felt for months, perhaps years, even with the sense of demand for small talk and polite gestures. In truth, Phoebe thought much of that was outdated, a remnant of the past that only served to complicate the present. But Hanson, unaware of her thoughts, had gone all out and was carefully considering his every word and movement, afraid of doing the wrong thing.

The waitress returned with two large plates of Italian cuisine. Placed before Phoebe, the first was piled high with a generous helping of spaghetti and meatballs. The aroma was a bit too much, and she started in on the meal before Hanson could be given his, a chicken and tortellini dish drenched with Alfredo sauce.

"Wow, you must be really hungry." Hanson remarked, hooking a noodle with his fork.

"Mmhmm." Phoebe swallowed her mouthful of pasta. "Are you kiddin' me? This place is great, and I haven't eaten all day."

"You shouldn't do that you know. It's bad for your health." Hanson joked, causing both of them to chuckle through their food. "But seriously, do you really like spaghetti that much?"

"Meh. I suppose so. I mean, it's pretty good as spaghetti goes, but I guess I don't like it any more than other types of noodles."

"That's fair. It is a classic." Hanson held up one of his tortellini. "I can't get enough of these things. They're like a miniature meal all on their own."

Phoebe giggled in response. "Yeah, I know what ya mean. Those are probably my favorite types o' noodles. Those and raviolis, pretty much for the same reason."

"So, why'd you get spaghetti, then?" Hanson tactfully countered, a smug grin on his face as he leaned in.

"Because," Phoebe mockingly retorted, an equally smug smile adorning her face, "in addition to classic pasta dishes, I also like classic movies."

Hanson had to take a minute to try to correlate what he just heard. "I don't get what you mean."

"Ah, come on. Ya never seen 'Lady an' the Tramp'?"

Hanson gave a small laugh at this. "Ah, now I see. That was a really good movie. And, you're right, the spaghetti scene is classic."

"Would you like to try a bite?" Phoebe offered her plate, twirling some noodles around on her fork.

"Sure. Never had it from here." Hanson reached across the table with his own fork, spooling some pasta for himself before carrying it over his own plate and carefully maneuvering it into his mouth. Phoebe was a bit underwhelmed that her date hadn't picked up on the hint, but she decided to let it go.

"So, how are things goin' for ya around the hospital. Gettin' taught by the chief o' surgery is a pretty big honor, don't ya think?"

Hanson's face switched from delight at the taste of the pasta to one of bittersweet melancholy. "Yeah, it's a huge honor to embarrass myself in front of him."

"Hey now, you didn't embarrass yourself." Phoebe offered consoling words, but they seemed to fall on deaf ears.

"I can't think of anything else to call that. I locked up, terrified, and damn near dropped a scalpel into a patient. It's pathetic. I should be better than that by now." Hanson's voice had lowered, as though he were trying to restrain a shout, instead reducing it to a mere rumble. His hands had curled into half-fists without his knowledge. Phoebe, however, had taken note, and reached her own hands out to clasp his.

"You think you're the first to do that? I'll be Dr. Barlow has seen all sorts o' embarrassing stuff from residents, way worse than that. Maybe you should ask him. He might be able ta tell you a story or two."

Hanson was still disgruntled, but he couldn't really argue with that. She was probably right, but it didn't make him feel much better. Nonetheless, he appreciated the gesture, and requited it by turning to look her in the eyes.

"Even if that's true, it still doesn't make me any better."

"Well, you just gotta practice more."

"I already told you, I do practice. All the time." Hanson was getting exasperated with repeating himself.

"That's not what I mean." Phoebe took a moment to think of how best to explain. "When you're workin' on one o' the dummies, what are ya' thinkin' about?"

"Huh? What do you mean? I'm thinking about the work, obviously. About making sure I don't mess up."

"You're thinkin' about cuttin' the plastic veins, holding open the rubber skin with your tools, taking out bags of water that represent organs." Hanson was starting to catch on. "That stuff might make you good at the technical side of things, but it don't prepare you for the real deal."

"Yeah. Yeah, I see what you mean." Hanson said, his mood lightening. "So, I just need to get to the point where it feels like I'm working on real, living people, so it won't freak me out when I actually do."

"Right! It's all about the mindset. If you go in like you're a real surgeon workin' on a real patient, you'll get better at workin' that way."

"That makes a lot of sense. You're right, I should definitely do that from now on." Hanson gave a big smile to his new muse. "What say I make you a deal?"

"Well," she said, hands crossed with her chin resting upon them, "what sort of deal are we talkin' about?"

Hanson turned toward a member of the staff. "Excuse me, waitress."

The woman approached the table. "What would you like?" Hanson held up his menu, pointing to an item on it. Phoebe was intrigued. Clearly, he had something in mind, and making her wait was only making it more enticing to hear.

"Well, what is it?" she asked as the waitress departed.

"I've got a lot on my plate at work, and it's not going very well, but you have inspired me." he replied, half-mockingly. "You saw how I was today. It wasn't pretty, and it wasn't professional. Would you say I'm ready to be a surgeon like that?"

"I-I suppose not," Phoebe tried to be tactful in her reply, "but you..."

"Ah ah ah." he quickly cut her off, finger held aloft. "Don't beat me to the punch line. Here's what I propose."

The waitress returned with two slender glasses and a bottle the shade of forest green. The cork of the bottle was sealed in place with red wax, mostly for decorative purposes as it was quickly removed. Phoebe couldn't quite make out the vintage. Hanson took the bottle and glasses, thanking the waitress before she left. Uncorking it, he continued.

"In, let's say, two weeks, I will make myself into a proper surgeon. I'll be adept enough to do the job, and I'll be confident and prepared enough to see it through without so much as a shiver." He looked up at her, away from the glass he had just filled with the red liquid.

"If, in two weeks, I am able to do that," he proceeded, now starting to fill her glass, "I would like your permission to take you home, to celebrate."

Phoebe was in shock, both at how she felt about the surprise he had called for, and at what he was asking her to agree to. Pictured scenarios rushed through her head at dizzying speed, which only served to make her more anxious. Still, she found that she wanted much the same for him as he wanted for himself. She wanted him to succeed, and she wanted a relationship with him. If he could actually do what he said, it would serve to accomplish both, and even if he failed it wouldn't have to be the end. She saw no real downside, besides her currently-present bashfulness.

"A-alright." she said, claiming her glass. "Sounds like a deal."

He reached out with his own glass, and they toasted to their new wager. Both of them were excited by the prospect, and eager to see what the future held.

---

Shift

The days went by in a blur. All Phoebe could think about was that promise, that bet that she had made. Was she actually willing to go through with that? Maybe, maybe not, but she gave her word. "That should count for something." she assured herself. She made the call then, so what reason did she have to distrust it now?

Perhaps she was on edge because Hanson was being so distant with her. They didn't go out again during those fourteen days. In fact, though they saw each other in passing nearly every day, they rarely spoke. He seemed more on edge every time she saw him, and it was only getting worse. She started questioning what she may have done for him to behave that way, but when she confronted him about it, he assured her that it wasn't to do with her. He was just stressed out from preparing, and things were getting tougher than he anticipated.

When the day finally came, she made sure to personally request to have a viewable operating room. Dr. Barlow was surprised that she cared, but explained that Hanson had already made the same request some days prior. This put Phoebe at ease; after all, why would he do this if he wasn't still determined to make good on his bet? At the same time, though, she was growing more anxious.

She caught him in the prep room before the procedure. He heard her walk in, and turned to look as he washed his hands and arms.

"Come to cheer me on? We've got a whole viewing room for that." He gestured awkwardly to the ceiling. He seemed split, at once on edge and calm. The duality was a strange sight. Clearly, he was feeling the pressure, but he was also versed in handling it by this point. Phoebe took this as a sign of progress.

"Just making sure you're ready for this." Phoebe knew not to interrupt his preparations, and instead stood with her hands together at her waist. A nervous tic showed through as her fingers wrapped around one another.

"I'm ready. No doubt." He finished rinsing his hands and held them aloft as he made his way to the gloves. "I gave myself a challenge. Excision of a tumor resting on the heart. You'll see. I'm gonna kill it in there."

"I hope ya don't mean that literally." Phoebe joked. Hanson just kept going, though, sheathing his most valuable tools in latex. His face still showed the same determined expression, but beyond it, Phoebe could spot that he was exhausted and fearful as well.

Hanson hooked the ends of the surgical mask around his ears and turned to Phoebe. "You should head up. It's showtime." With that, he pressed his back to the swinging door, and disappeared into the operating room.

Phoebe wasn't sure of what just happened. They hadn't talked for a while, but he seemed so different. Before, he was bumbling and self-critical, but he was also earnest, kind, and genuine. The man she had just spoken with showed anxiety and over-tiredness and fear, masked by a forced calmness. It was as though he was a completely different person.

She made her way up to the observation room. Most of the prep work for the operation itself had been taken care of beforehand, and it wasn't long before it was underway. Hanson requested some music to play in the room during the procedure. Some mid-tempo R&B song that Phoebe had never heard before. She didn't know that he liked that kind of music, and while she didn't particularly dislike it, she found it a bit distasteful.

Soon after, he set to work. "Scalpel, 22." Dr. Barlow passed the nearly-round blade to Hanson. He moved surprisingly quickly, each of his cuts precise and clean. It would seem that his confidence in his choice was well founded, and Phoebe was stunned with how much progress he had made. If she didn't know better, she'd say he had been a surgeon for years. As bloody as the scene was, it was minimal compared to what she expected.

Once inside, he held back his lancet-wielding hand. "Number 15C." Barlow again retrieved the desired blade, trading it for the bloody knife. Instead of cracking the rib cage, Hanson instead worked around it. Phoebe was sure this would be devastating, as doing so is nearly impossible. However, Hanson made it work, mostly due to the location of the tumor, being on the offset portion of the heart. This put it out of the way of the breastbone, and thus possible to excise without moving the ribs.

Hanson's hand was perfectly steady, no hint of the hesitation or fear the was all too present just moments before. With tiny motions and careful cuts, he meticulously liberated the edges of the tumor from the heart wall. Slowly, but surely, the body of the tumor was sliced away and removed. Phoebe was in awe. Clearly, he was dedicated, and a capable learner. He had adapted to the strain, and now was one of the most competent surgeons she had ever seen.

Two hours later, the operation was over. The patient was wheeled to a clean room to recover, and Phoebe thought she could see him chuckling to himself. He seemed both relieved and distraught, but she couldn't deny what he had just done. She left the room, descending the staircase as fast as she could to meet up with him.

"A deal's a deal, eh. I told you I'd do it." Hanson said, out of breath, as she entered the room, pulling his mask away and discarding it along with his gloves. He started in on washing his hands, a precaution against infection.

"Sure, yeah, a deal's a deal. Now, tell me how you did that." Phoebe rushed through her words, still baffled by the spectacle.

Hanson held a hand up to her. "Oh no no no. That wasn't part of the bargain."

"Oh don't give me that. That was incredible. I've seen surgeons that have been in the game for years struggle with that sorta thing. A novice like you, that patient shoulda been dead."

"Hey, no need to insult me. I'm not a novice anymore. I told you, I practiced with those stupid mannequins every single day for hours on end. I got really, really good at that part of it."

"Sure, but when I last saw you operate, you were so terrified that you couldn't even hold a scalpel. What happened?"

"I got over it." he turned to look her in the eye. He gave her a look that seemed to be proud, but there was something else that she couldn't pinpoint. Something about it put her on edge. She didn't ask anything further, only requesting his address so she could get there later. He gladly provided it. With that, the conversation ended. Phoebe shuffled away, perturbed. A cold sensation pervaded her spine. What did I get myself into?

---

Practice

As she pulled into the driveway, Phoebe couldn't help but feel overwhelmed. The cobbled path that her car now sat upon was only an introductory piece. It led the way to the grandiosity that was Hanson's home. Three stories tall, Phoebe was sure it had to contain at least thirty rooms. Its features were Victorian in appearance, though modern amenities like a steel-door, two car garage were present as well.

Phoebe stepped out into the cold night air, a light jacket wrapped around her shoulders. She decided to go with something somewhat formal: a dress shirt, skirt, and low heels. A pair of opal earrings that she was sure were fake complemented the thin pearl necklace that she paid good money to ensure was real. She made her way to the door, her footsteps echoing off of the cobblestones. As she reached the steps in front of the entryway, she took note of the knocker, a large brass lion head. She opted to use the doorbell instead, though found that it, too, was indicative of an older era. The tone was very deep, such that it would not have been out of place in the Elizabeth Tower.

Hanson answered the door proudly, a glass of wine in hand. He wore black duo of dress shirt and pants, with socks to match. His shirt was untucked, and the top button undone. Phoebe guessed that he had a pair of shoes to match somewhere in the house.

"Perfect timing. I was about to start in." Hanson turned and beckoned her to come inside. She didn't like the way she felt around the place, but entered anyway to get out of the chill.

Inside, she was greeted by a large parlor room, opulent in its design. A massive mosaic made up the polished floor, and support pillars rimmed with what appeared to be gold were openly displayed. Several cushioned chairs were placed sparsely to the left and right of the doorway, small tables just to the sides accentuating them. They seemed inviting, almost hoping that someone would sit in them and enjoy a good book with a cup of tea. However, with no bookshelves in sight, they seemed to be more decorative than anything.

Ahead, a massive staircase covered tightly in a long carpet led to a balconied second floor. Doors lined the walls above, and a few more were placed on the ground floor. One doorway to the right had no door, and led to what seemed to be a dining room. The long table within was covered with a white lace tablecloth, and Phoebe spotted the edge of a silver candlestick, complete with tapered candle ready to be lit. Above, as with the parlor she was in, the light of a crystal chandelier could be seen.

"Well? Whadyathink?" Hanson gestured toward the room as a whole, a hopeful smile on his face.

"It's not what I expected, that's for sure." she replied, taking in another sweep of the place. "I like the decor, but it seems a bit sparse, I guess."

"Hehe, yeah, I suppose so." Hanson absentmindedly scratched the back of his head. "I never really liked it either. Too open. Great for running around as a kid, but not so much for living here as an adult."

Phoebe could understand what he meant. Something about the way he said it, though, brought back the same, uncomfortable feeling as before. He hadn't said anything bad, but she still felt unease.

Pushing her irrational discomfort out of mind, she asked "So, which way are we headed?"

Hanson perked up, remembering the reason she was here. "O-oh, this way. Down to one of the basement levels. It's the most comfortable place in the house. I spend most nights down there anymore." He held his glass aloft. "It's where I keep this, after all, hehe."

Phoebe was hardly impressed, but followed nonetheless. As they walked, she tried to rationalize how he could be so different now. He used to be really nice and sweet, but now he's just really nervous. Something must have happened during the week they were apart that made him this way. But what could do that to a person?

He led her to a short, descending stairway that led to a fully furnished recreation room. It was warmer than she expected it to be, considering it was in the basement. The white carpet was soft beneath her feet. A pool table complete with a ready rack and cues stood as the central piece. Beyond that, further from the door, four large, brown reclining chairs stood before a massive flat-screen television. Two doors stood on the same wall as the entryway, closer to the chairs. A rack of wine bottles stood between them, and it seemed that Hanson had become clumsy once or twice with them as small stains were noticeable in front of the rack and adjacent doors. Between this and the entryway, Phoebe had to wonder where all this money came from. His parents, most likely.

"Have a seat. I'll prepare a glass for you."

"Th-that's fine. I'm not really thirsty." Phoebe's nose caught a familiar, yet faint scent.

"Hmm. Suit yourself. Really do have a seat though. Those are the best in the house."

Phoebe complied, but found it hard to relax in the warmth of the room, even as the magnificent leather chair gently cradled her. Her thoughts were focused elsewhere, on the smell that underlied the room. She knew she had smelled it before, somewhere recent.

"What's that stink?"

"Hm? What stink?"

"What, you don't smell that? It's..."

Hanson cut her off. "I don't smell anything." He feigned truthfulness, but the shift in his eyes and sitting position told a different story.

"Why are you getting so nervous?"

"I'm not nervous." But it was clear that that was a lie. He spoke in more of a whimper than an actual speaking voice, and his expression was distraught.

The levy finally broke. Phoebe had had enough. "Stop lying to me. You've been hiding something from me all week, and any time I try to get it outta you, you get more upset. What is going on? What aren't you telling me?"

"I told you, I'm not hiding anything." He grew angrier, more defiant, as his fingers started to curl into the soft leather of the chair.

"If you aren't gonna be straight with me, then I'm leaving." Phoebe shouted, rising from her chair and heading for the door.

"Hey, we had a deal." Hanson got up from his own chair to grab her by the arm. His grip was stronger than she thought him capable of, and Phoebe flinched at the unexpected pain. Tears started welling up in her eyes, but more obvious was her flailing to escape his grip. He relented, causing her to stumble backward, but she maintained her footing. She turned away, reaching the doorway before he spoke again.

"You want to know what I'm 'hiding'? How I got to be the best surgeon in the hospital?"

She stopped dead in her tracks. What am I doing? I need to leave, now. But her body wasn't listening, instead holding completely still as her brain tried to force it forward. Her subconscious curiosity took over, and her need to know spurned her on to ask, "What is it?"

He stepped hesitantly over to the door to the left of the wine rack, waving for her to follow. As she approached, the stench intensified, as did the heat. Clearly, it was coming from here.

"Just remember. You wanted this." Hanson unlocked the door with a key retrieved from his pocket. He motioned for her to enter. She stepped up to the hollow, white, wooden door, taking the stainless steel knob in her hand. She gave it a twist, and let the door creak slowly inward.

Before her was a tiny room, only capable of accommodating one or two people, plus the various tools, blades, sponges, rags, implements, and buckets of water inside. A wave of warm, humid air billowed out as the door swung inward. The entirety of the room smelled of cleaning solutions, solvents, and astringents that clearly were only ventilating through the seams of the door. Beneath it all, though, was the metallic hint of blood. The red ring soaked into the cracks between tiles and surrounding the drain in the floor would have been evidence enough, but before her was something far worse.

Two mangled, mutilated bodies, propped up in dentistry chairs; a man and a woman, both sliced apart. Their bodies bore countless scars, but even now, it was clear they were still being 'utilized'. The man was far overweight, but due to the gaping abdominal cavity, it was hard to tell. Organs lay motionless, exposed, and blood dripped slowly from the incisions. One of his eyes had been carefully removed, preserved in a jar on a nearby shelf. His left arm lay on the same shelf, a recent addition as the stump had not skinned over whatsoever. His cranium was split like a cookie jar, the lid to which was casually set aside. The squishy brain matter had been thoroughly removed and sliced apart, dissected for study.

Phoebe covered her mouth with her hands, a reactive measure to her urge to vomit. The face was one she recognized. "B-but that's.. Th-that's G-g-g..."

"Garret." Hanson spoke quickly, as though he'd been looking forward to finally telling someone about it. "Yes, that disgusting pig. I thought you'd be happy to see him like this. That was part of the reason I took him. I knew how you despised him, so I brought him here to practice on.

"He wasn't my first option, you know. I tried to work with the dummies, but I just couldn't visualize them as real people. I tried cadavers after that, but they were so still on the inside that they really didn't feel like an accurate comparison. I needed the real thing to pull it off. So, two days ago, I asked him out to drink, and told him I wanted to learn from him. I brought him back here, and..." He gestured wildly around the room. "I set this up the day before, and it wasn't too difficult to get him in here once he was drunk enough."

Hanson started chuckling nervously, running his fingers through his hair. "But, I uhhh... miscalculated how inexperienced I was. The room was too cold, and he lost a bit too much blood. He died in less than a day. At first, I didn't think it would be that big a deal; I'd just keep going with him. But it was no different than the mortuary cadavers. So, I brought a heater in, borrowed some blood, and..."

Phoebe's eyes darted to the woman, and widened in terror. On full display for all to see, her left leg amputated and carved apart, her chest cavity cracked open, and her veins riddled with intravenous tubes and needles, was Marie Harrier. Her face was hard to recognize, as half of it has been sliced away, removed so that the workings underneath could be studied in detail. The same was true of her right arm, which was flayed of skin, revealing the muscle, veins, and arteries beneath.

"Y-y-you..."

"She's still alive, you know. I've gotten very good, like you saw earlier. I shouldn't need anyone else for a while."

Phoebe collapsed to the ground, unable to comprehend what she was seeing. But it was evident that he was not lying. Beyond her broken ribs, Phoebe could see that Harrier's heart was still beating, and her lungs were still expanding and contracting. A faint, raspy breathing still escaped her lips. Phoebe could not hold the contents of her stomach anymore, expelling them onto the floor. She found herself unable to raise her head to the carnage that she had born witness to.
Hanson gave a small chuckle. "It's alright. The tile is easy to clean, I promise. I've just been too busy getting extra lessons in to keep up.

"But that's okay," he said, stepping quickly into the sterilized room, around the chair that held Harrier's limp body. "I don't need to worry about that any more." He undid the straps and handcuffs that held Garret in place, and rolled the corpse off of the chair. It splattered to the floor with a resounding splash, organs piling over one another as they poured out of his exposed abdomen.

"I did what I said I'd do. I learned how to operate on real people. I won the bet. And here you are, to celebrate with me."

"I-I-I..." But her stammering was cut off as she was ripped to her feet by Hanson's grasp. He overpowered her by inches, dragging her over to the now-empty chair. His expression was that of a man unhinged; he'd clearly broken down from all of his misdeeds. He maneuvered her left wrist into place in the handcuff, clasping the metal around it. She kicked and fought to escape, but he was determined. In seconds, she was locked in place, thrashing and screaming to escape.

Hanson enthusiastically began to strap her legs to the chair. "This is what you wanted, right? For me to practice? For me to get better as a surgeon?" He spoke loudly to be heard over her screams, his speech mingled with misplaced laughter. Her legs were soon pinned to the chair as well. "You're in the basement. There's a lot of soundproofing here. You, me, and Marie here are the only ones in the house. No one is going to come free you."

Phoebe's voice died out soon after. She was locked there for months, waited on hand and foot while Hanson continued his macabre work. Each time she saw him, she begged, threatened, pleaded to be let go. She promised that she wouldn't tell a soul what had happened. She offered to be his lover instead of his prisoner. Everything she could think of to get him to release her.

Hanson ignored every request, and over the months replaced Harrier with a new victim, who Phoebe did not recognize, and another once that one was used and shredded. Phoebe eventually grew numb to it all, deciding that instead, she would rather block it all out. Sometimes it worked. Most times, though, it didn't and the screaming from the other victims would haunt her into each and every night. She hoped, in vein, that the sweltering heat would take her, but Hanson kept her hydrated and cared for.

Then, one day, Hanson didn't come back into the room. The door remained locked, but the captor never returned. Days went by with no sign of Hanson. Phoebe wondered what had happened to him. Her mind went through everything she could muster the energy to think of to escape. In the end, though, she succumbed to the solitude, the dehydration, and the starvation. Police would find her body two days later, putrid and rotting, still locked in the chair.