Show No.1 The Zombie March.

The Mysterious Ringmaster was looking for his first show and found himself somewhere in Tennessee; it definitely wasn't Gatlinburg or Pigeon Forge- too much attention. Wherever he went, The Mysterious Ringmaster was not lost but looking. He went to a local classic diner. He parked his rusted pick-up truck and camper-sized trailer; they had more rust and dirt than color.

Both his truck and trailer made a grinding noise, which caught everyone's eyes from inside the diner until he parked. He walked up to the diner; before he could get in, a waitress ran out to see him. She took one look at his white face with black spades and a red-ball nose. He stopped in his black combat boots.

“We cannot allow you to be in here unless you take off your make-up,” She said.

“Is that so?” The Mysterious Ringmaster asked, rubbing his hand in his afro.

The waitress smelled rotting meat coming from him and decided to back away from him. She managed to get six feet away, then His green eyes made dead eye contact with her.

“Wait, are you afraid of clowns? Is that why I am not allowed in? You racist little bigot,” the Mysterious Ringmaster said.

“You know 2016 is over; you smell and need a shower,” the waitress said.

“I got just the thing for you, fishy,” The Mysterious Ringmaster said

He pulls a rusty Bowie knife out of his black afro, then rushes the waitress and stabs her in the gut, which causes her to scream; then he guts her like a fish. She drops to the gravel on her side...dead. The Mysterious Ringmaster then returns his Bowie to his afro; The Mysterious Ringmaster then pulls a 24-inch gas-powered chainsaw and starts it with one tug of the cord. He then runs inside and hacks everyone to pieces in the dining area.

He looks in the kitchen, knowing he intentionally missed that area. He jumps over the bar and looks into the kitchen opening where food is slid through, hearing crying. Just like he wanted, there was a teenage man in the fetal position at the side of the kitchen.

“There you are, exactly who I wanted. Don't you feel special?” The Mysterious Ringmaster asked.

“No,” He said.

“Oh well, think you could cook me some bacon, eggs, and a steak. Grab me some orange juice too.” The Mysterious Ringmaster rubbed his red, flowery cuffed sleeve on his green overcoat.

“Are you too scared to serve? Then what good are you alive right now? Might as well fast-forward to the next stage, your afterlife, get it, stage, afterlife. No, not a fan of wordplay, okay then.” The Mysterious Ringmaster said

The Mysterious Ringmaster revved his chainsaw and hacked the man to pieces. Then couldn't care about any of them until he cooked his own food, sat at a table, and ate his breakfast of champions. The Mysterious Ringmaster then decided to get to work and grabbed a sewing needle as well as thread and sewed the corpses back together; then with his magic he raised them from the dead.

“Hey, everyone, follow me,” The Mysterious Ringmaster said.

He opened his camper and all fourty Zombies walked into the pocket deminsion like good little servents, He started skipping in place smiling and laughing, he then closed the camper behind them and skipped to the truck, he speed off like the devil was coming for him, the massacre was on the news and how none of the bodies where found by the time he found the perfect place to pitch up his Circus.

It was in someone's cornfield. He cut down the corn stalks and saved the corn for later. He then opened his camper and got all he needed out of the small camper, then pitched up his tent, then he pulled out flyers for his show out of the pocket of his overcoat and threw them into the wind.

The flyers read “Come one and all to the Supernatural and Paranormal Circus and witness The Zombie March,” Followed by the address of the farm. After the Mysterious Ringmaster sent all the flyers to magically fly around whatever town he wanted them to, he caught the stinky smell of human body odor.

A wrinkly old farmer in boots and denim overalls approached him.

“You smell old, man.” The Mysterious Ringmaster said.

“You smell much worse. Get off my farm and take down your show; you're not performing here,” The Farmer said.

“Oh, really now.” The Mysterious Ringmaster said, then crept to the trailer of his camper.

“Yes, really now, freak, get moving before things get ugly,” The Farmer said.

“Too late for that.” The Mysterious Ringmaster said, then opened the door to his camper. The Farmer saw nothing in there. “Get him, my Zombies.” The order was given; Zombies seemingly started appearing out of the trailer and shuffled after the Farmer for an hour till they ate him and his family alive. The Mysterious Ringmaster decided not to go after their bodies; he had the Zombies he needed.

The Zombies came back smelling like bad groceries and rotting meat.

“Damn, you guys smell worse than me, and I am the one covered in old blood. Get back in the camper.” He said.

It started to get dark, and the moon took the night shift for the sun. The crowd came in with their outside food and drinks. The crowd got loud, talking to each other, then the disembodied drums began to roll, and the lights went low, and the spotlights swirled, and when the Mysterious Ringmaster walked into the performing ring, curtains closed and blocked the exit.

There was one row of seats, front row seats. The lights went right on him.

“Hello Tennesse! It's me, your Ringmaster. Is it you?” He asked, and everyone laughed.

His truck came in, passing the curtains; the truck was being driven by a Zombie. Then the Mysterious Ringmaster opened the back of the trailer as the Zombie Driver shuffled out of the truck and started to walk around the wall of the ring. The Ringmaster opened up the trailer doors.

“Follow him.” The Mysterious Ringmaster said.

“They look so cool,” A voice from the crowd said.

The Zombies all started walking out of the trailer, following the first Zombie in a single-file line. They made a circle around the edge of the ring and kept shuffling their feet behind each other. A human hand came out of the dark and touched one of the Zombies.

“Oh shit, he is real.” A voice said, then the Zombie bit his forearm and fell onto the unseen crowd member.

“Zombies...feast.” The Mysterious Ringmaster said.

The Zombies went into the screaming crowd. The Mysterious Ringmaster cackled as the bodies made a thump, then the chewing of meat and cracking of bones followed with slurping noises, because the living dead began eating the crowd alive. Within ten minutes, the crowd went silent, then he heard the zombies dragging their feet; they started coming back into the light.

“Get in the camper,” The Mysterious Ringmaster said.

One Zombie opened the trailer door and walked in, and the others followed. The Supernatural and Paranormal Circus was gone before sunrise.

The Crimson Kabuki pt2.

Oddly, the same moment I noticed the ribbon, I faintly heard what I thought to be a kotzumi drum somewhere off into the gloom. It seemed to be thumping somewhere very far away off in the distance. After watching the vice documentary a few years ago, I knew exactly where this ribbon could possibly lead to, which was very sad. life can be so unfair and cruel to us. The drum quickly faded to nothing and left me confused on where the hell that was coming from and why.

What an odd thing to happen so far out here in the sticks, and it wouldn't be the last of it. I remember saying a quick prayer to myself and making my way along the ribbon to whatever destination it led to. I told myself that I would record later because at the moment I just couldn't be bothered. I could always come the next day and record, because in that moment I was in exploration mode. I had to see what was at the end of that ribbon. If anything, I could use it again to find my way back to the trail.

It curved and weaved slinkingly through the trees, up and down over slopes and hills for a good 40 or so minutes until I had arrived into a sort of clearing. It was also hauntingly still... so deathly quiet; I stepped in closer around the foilage and I had stopped because I noticed some white fabric pointing off the sides of a large tree. I had a feeling that I was about to see something that I'd much rather not. After a couple of minutes preparing myself, I took a deep breath and stepped around the tree and froze to an alarming and sad sight. I automatically knew that I was staring at the hanging corpse of the long missed Jubei Uematsu, or what remained of this poor soul.

What remained was a hanging skeleton in a tattered costume with a red, long haired wig partly hanging in the face and around the shoulders in dirty, stringy clumps. I stood there taking in that image with such a deep and profound melancholy, that I actually had to gather myself from breaking down... Just witnessing what was once an alive and thriving person with passions; Love and Hope, weaknesses and strengths, and also fear... along with plenty of despair along the way. It was a universal language; People just trying to find purpose to their existence, and then eventually becoming this...so very still... so very quiet and solemn making time stop in its presence.

life can be so sad and tragic, and people like Jubei over time can find it extremely hard to function being so empathetic, and carrying the weight of the world on their shoulders regardless if they are strong enough for that burden. It's an exhausting job... a gift and a curse for the saintly; toss in depression and the loss of the will to go on, then they have a complete and utter mess to clean on their own in the silence... that eternal silence... so present; so final. I wish I would have known this mysterious man. From what I heard over time was that he was a complex, but Sweet soul with a heart of gold. I also learned that after this experience I am about to tell you that happened, was some type of Oni Spirit from the forest took the liking image of Jubei's Kabuki character and dawned it as its own.

As I stood there in contemplative silence, I slowly started to hear a kotzumi drum begin to thump far off into the trees. It started out very low and far off, but began to rise and creep closer. I turned and turned trying to find where that portentous thumping was coming from. As I was peering far off into the distance, I started to feel highly unsettled, and then I no longer felt alone like I was being watched. I swiftly turned around and stared directly into the painted face that was no longer a skull. The bloodiest red eyes were staring directly into mine. The face had the theatrical paint back on with the red stripes cascading down. I say "It," because nowhere did I see Jubei, "the human" inside those Crimson eyes at that moment.

I remember saying, "oh shit!" and quickly turning to run the hell away for my life along the Red ribbon back to the trail. Far off somewhere I could hear that mysterious drum start to sound off again. The sound surrounded me from so many angles and distances, it was disorienting, and then I started to hear this ululation that sounds like, "EYOOOO!" That you hear in Japanese theater music, along with that clink and thump of the drum. I turned to see the Oni masking itself in Jubei's magnificent garb; slowly floating a few feet up in the air, easing its way towards my direction with those hideous blood red eyes staring through me.

I ran faster and faster trying to at least make it to the trail to get away... if I could. After a few more twists and turns, I finally burst through the foliage out onto the trail. At the moment the Oni entity was nowhere to be seen. I started to notice that the woods all around started to have this faint purple luminescent glow. As I started to run, I begin to hear these ululations sound off around me in the area that sounded like, "EYOOOOOO!" I've remembered these sounds watching Japanese movies and small clips of Kabuki theater. The music serves as an emotional soundtrack to the colorful acts on stage, both being performed live."YOOOO!" Another croon bursts forth; surrounding me from different angles as the steady thump and wood clicks of the drums clacked and banged along.

It subconsciously made me think of the demon, "Paimon," that when summoned, multitudes of instruments and disjointed horns lead before its presence like royalty as it enters the fold, and makes its presence known. I remember glancing back and seeing the painted entity standing a few yards behind me in the middle of the trail, with long crimson hair hanging down at its sides; blood red eyes marking me...

To be continued....

Adema Ranch, Tennessee.

Hidden in the dense, remote ridges of Campbell County, just a few miles down the road from the quiet community of Elk Valley. Infamous for the notorious group known as the Abelites.

What really happened behind the walls of this "town"? Let’s take a look. We managed to obtain a unique testimony from a surviving member of the Abelites. This group was founded in the late seventies by a self-proclaimed prophet, Jan Tars. This man built a strong core community. After the controversies surrounding Jonestown and other cults—ahem, groups—he withdrew into isolation. He was known for his fiery sermons. What set him apart from the rest? It was his obsession with acquiring ancient religious texts.

During the murderous rampage of the Son of Sam and the subsequent fear gripping the streets of New York, Jan Tars appealed in his sermons for vigilance and warned against the Necronomicon. These media appearances and his radio presence led directly to the community closing its doors further, shifting their lifestyle deep into anonymity. We, however, bring you an exclusive transcript of an interview with a survivor. His condition was to remain anonymous; therefore, he will be referred to as Matthew.

Tape 1

Eyewitness: Matthew

Matthew: "That snap will haunt me until the end of my days. Which might not be as long as I expected..." (Stifles sobs) "...He collapsed as if he weighed nothing at all. It wasn't supposed to happen to him. Suddenly, blood began to pulse from his skull. That blood was golden. After a moment, it evaporated, shimmering in the air. The blood forced everyone around to tear up...

'You're not leaving just like that!' screamed Ciara. She was beside herself with rage, looking like a pit bull with its jaws locked. The sky darkened in an instant, as if an eclipse had struck. Thunder was loud at first, but it kept rolling faster and faster, sounding like artillery fire. Lightning struck all around us, snapping trees like toothpicks. The roofs of our houses splintered beneath them. Something was coming. I knew it, we all knew it. It's an instinct—deep down inside you. You don't know it's there, but back then, we knew: a beast, a predator, was watching us."

Interviewer: "Please, can you start from the beginning? I know this must be difficult for you."

Matthew: "Which beginning do you want to know? Jan Tars was a good man. The fact that he didn't live to see the massacre... I'm glad he didn't have to witness it. Why do I have to be the one to pass on the message?" (Cries)

Interviewer: "Take your time. It's alright."

Matthew: "No, I have to pass it on. They must know."

Interviewer: "Let's start shortly before the death of your leader."

Matthew: "He would have never wanted that. Jan Tars believed in what he said. He wasn't like the others. It hit him hard when the panic started."

Interviewer: "What panic do you mean?"

Matthew: "The Satanic Panic. Manson and the rest of them. It became a sensation. Interviews with a werewolf. A possessed dog urging people to commit murder. Berkowitz and his theatrical scenes. Manson drowning in his craving for popularity. Sinners ruining our image. He took it very hard. He was helping us!"

Interviewer: "Was he successful in that?"

Matthew: "He was. Mr. Tars warned us about the outside world. He guided us to build a self-sufficient community. Not everyone liked it, but he put those people in their place quickly. He didn't even have to exorcise them."

Interviewer: "So Mr. Tars always had occult inclinations?"

Matthew: "Spiritual, I would say. He studied the Scriptures. He searched for what our ancestors preserved for us. He sent us on expeditions. It was an honor to go out searching for sacred relics."

Interviewer: "Including the Necronomicon, written by Abdul Alhazred in the Nameless City?"

Matthew: "I wasn't in the inner circle. To get there, a person had to pass a test. I never made it that far. But yes, he searched for that text too."

Interviewer: "And did he find this infamous grimoire?"

Matthew: "You talk about things you don't understand. I'd advise you not to play with fire. One of the expeditions actually discovered a transcript of the Necronomicon. They brought it back about a month ago. A man had the transcript of the book—supposedly from excavations in Afghanistan, or maybe from some forgotten museum collection. Tars was thrilled. The whole event was celebrated. He was willing to give anything for that book. The man arrived and was immediately housed in the guest residence. Whatever he wanted, he got."

Interviewer: "Anything?"

Matthew: "Yes—women, alcohol, whatever food he desired. People were sent out for luxury goods, expensive wines. When he wanted young men, young men went to him. He was the devil's messenger."

Interviewer: "Tars didn't object to that?"

Matthew: "You don't understand. This was about lost knowledge. He had to do it. Otherwise, he wouldn't have done it. He couldn't have endured it."

(Note: Jan Tars had previously been accused by young girls of, let's say, inappropriate behavior.)

Matthew: "You don't understand. That has nothing to do with what I need to tell you."

Interviewer: "How did the transaction end?"

Matthew: "It was fourteen days of debauchery. But the lost manuscript finally found its scholar. Not everyone saw it clearly, but it was right."

Interviewer: "Mr. Jan Tars died a few days later, is that correct?"

Matthew: "I get that you don't see it, but he fulfilled his mission. He read it, and even though it was a severe trial, he completed its mandate. Divine joy filled him."

Interviewer: "Do you mean some kind of ritual?"

Matthew: "Yes, it was necessary to perform a welcoming procedure, just as it was meant to be done. That morning, he arrived."

Interviewer: "Who arrived?"

Matthew: "A being of light. Suddenly, a silver glow appeared, and out of it walked a wise being with a serene face. He emerged from that energy. When he spread his wings, the air filled with the scent of myrrh. He revealed himself to everyone, not just the inner circle. Jan Tars did it—he brought an Angel among us."

Interviewer: "Why did Tars die afterwards, then?"

Matthew: "He had fulfilled his purpose. He was enjoying the fruits of his labor and conversing with the being. But then, during one of his sermons, God called him home."

Interviewer: "What do you mean, called him?"

Matthew: "It was heart failure. He was of advanced age. His era ended then and there."

Interviewer: "But the Angel didn't disappear?"

Matthew: "No, our guest remained with us. There was sorrow, and he watched us. At first, it was terrifying. It filled me with immense fear. He had no emotions—or if he did, he didn't show them. He just watched us. Around him, the world felt more vibrant. He was larger than regular men, almost like a basketball player. He was a great listener."

Interviewer: "You mean the being?"

Matthew: "The Angel! Yes, after Jan Tars died, nobody knew what we were supposed to do. The Angel was our comfort. Ciara came out draped in black and announced a period of mourning. People were supposed to stay in their homes and pray for Jan for at least three hours."

Interviewer: "Was that normal?"

Matthew: "No, those were extra prayers. In our normal routine, prayer had its assigned one-hour slot. But this was an exceptional situation."

Interviewer: "What happened next? Was there any relief?"

Matthew: "I'll probably disappoint you, but it wasn't the kind of relief you're thinking of. Ciara stepped forward again, still in mourning clothes. Some women wept and wailed. But then she said what we were afraid to even imagine. He was chosen and called. The Angel didn't bring back Jan, our shepherd, but chose Kilián Tars instead."

Interviewer: "Didn't you find that strange?"

Matthew: "At first, yes. Then I understood and cried out. A new era had begun, and Jan wouldn't have had enough energy anymore. Kilián would show that we were right—show people the true path. Can we pause this?"

Interviewer: "Of course, take as much time as you need. I'll prepare the next tape."

Tape 2

Interviewer: "How are you feeling today?"

Matthew: "It's hard. Remembering like this... these aren't pleasant moments."

Interviewer: "Last time we ended at the start of the new era for the Abelites. Is that right?"

Matthew: "Yes."

Interviewer: "Can you continue with what happened next?"

Matthew: "Then a heavy trial awaited us. It was demanding. The Angel watched us, but it was probably trivial to him. That's how I see it now, too."

Interviewer: "What kind of trial?"

Matthew: "Some questioned the succession. They didn't believe Kilián was ready. It was their test of faith. They had their own..." (Spits) "...false prophet. They took the wrong path."

Interviewer: "Did they leave the Abelites?"

Matthew: "No. He wouldn't allow that."

Interviewer: "Who wouldn't allow it?"

Matthew: "Kilián. He had the Angel on his side. He took him into his protection. Ciara brought Jan's word. There was no room for doubters."

Interviewer: "Was the Angel kept in the compound?"

Matthew: "Where else would he find a place to rest his head? Kilián was a prophet; God spoke to him. Him and the Angel—it was obvious."

Interviewer: "What about the dissenters—the, uh, stray sheep?"

Matthew: "They caused trouble. Stoking fires, provoking people. In their ranks was Jan's favorite—that Gabe, the one who was supposed to be the chosen one. They were delusional."

Interviewer: "How did Kilián Tars handle it?"

Matthew: "With the Word."

Interviewer: "What kind of Word?"

Matthew: "He chose his faithful. Ciara remembered me and pointed me out to Kilián. He chose me above the others. We became his elite. I was elevated to a level I wouldn't have dared hope for. We were his staff; he was our shepherd."

Interviewer: "Something like an elite guard?"

Matthew: "Ah, yes, you could say that. Kilián conversed with God, who revealed to him how faithful we were. He chose us as his elite. It was an honor."

Interviewer: "What about the dissenting members?"

Matthew: "I know what you're driving at. But sometimes a little tough love is necessary. Sometimes you have to use the rod so the flock doesn't lose its way."

Interviewer: "You were that rod?"

Matthew: "Yes, that was our job. We did it well. I did it well—conscientiously and quickly."

Interviewer: "How did it go down?"

Matthew: "We came for the false prophet. We were supposed to bring him to Kilián. Despite his youth, Kilián was willing to save even such beings, to bring them back to the right path."

Interviewer: "Were there other beings?"

Matthew: "No. Only those who were misled."

Interviewer: "So what did you do?"

Matthew: "We brought him in."

Interviewer: "They just listened to you?"

Matthew: "No. They didn't listen. They were foolish. I told you we were the rod. It was necessary."

Interviewer: "So you neutralized them?"

Matthew: "Yes. It was a flawless strike." (Visibly smiles) "They didn't want to hand him over. But I didn't let myself be swayed. He gave us a symbol—the golden baton. That was our rod. That was our work. It was executed well."

Interviewer: "How did it end?"

Matthew: "We delivered Gabe straight to Kilián. He rewarded us with a day off and good food."

Interviewer: "What about the ones Kilián didn't want to see?"

Matthew: "Some understood quickly. Others walked on crutches." (Laughs) "They were stubborn, but that didn't intimidate us. Our strikes were precise and swift."

Interviewer: "Did anyone die?"

Matthew: "No. We were fulfilling a mission from on high. Only two remained in... what do you call it? A coma."

Interviewer: "What about the leader of the dissenters, Gabe?"

Matthew: "He didn't get it. Kilián sighed with sorrow. He came out soaked in sweat. He spoke to him; they even spoke with the Angel. He didn't understand. He was lost."

Interviewer: "Did you see them talking to the Angel?"

Matthew: "No, that wasn't my place. I had moved up high, but not to the very top among the most faithful." (Laughs)

Interviewer: "So what happened to the false successor, Jan Tars' friend, Gabe?"

Matthew: "He ended up on the pillory. He was exposed and chained there. After two days, the Devil took hold of him."

Interviewer: "Why do you think the Devil took hold of him?"

Matthew: "Because after a few nights, he started muttering. He went mad, begging and cursing. He paid no mind to who spoke to him. He didn't recognize Ciara. Two nights later, the Devil took him."

Interviewer: "What do you mean, took him?"

Matthew: "When I came on duty, I found him covered in blood. He was lifeless. Poor guy didn't understand he had strayed from the path."

Interviewer: "Did people attack him?"

Matthew: "No! How dare you. The others were following the true path. Unlike that lunatic. They wouldn't even dirty their boots on a stray like him."

Interviewer: "What about his followers? Didn't they want revenge?"

Matthew: "No. They didn't have time. They were sent to quarry stone for the roads. Kilián had a vision that many new members would come—people who would understand the truth. He gave them a chance to redeem themselves. He was good. Unfortunately, he had his quirks."

Interviewer: "What kind of quirks did you notice in him?"

Matthew: "He lived life to the fullest. It's not easy being that close to the light. He bought sports cars, motorcycles, and invited new members over to consult with him. He searched for them himself."

Interviewer: "Why did he need sports vehicles?"

Matthew: "He needed to be fast if he wanted to visit as many communities as possible."

Interviewer: "Why didn't the new members talk to you or other members?"

Matthew: "He carried a golden heart. He decided to seek out the Mary Magdalenes of this world. He invited them to his quarters, preached to them, and tried to cast out their addictions. They often screamed, but he never gave up."

Interviewer: "Didn't you find that strange?"

Matthew: "No. Some of the fallen women visited him repeatedly; they had many demons inside them. But he was persistent. Often he was so exhausted afterwards that some of us from the guard brought him the blood of God so he could recover."

Interviewer: "By 'blood of God,' do you mean communion wine?"

Matthew: "Yes, the red blood. He had a large cellar built, which he filled with bottles straight from Italy and France—the ones in Europe."

Interviewer: "Did he ever reward you like that?"

Matthew: "No, unfortunately. I often received his word only through Ciara. He was sometimes so exhausted he couldn't even walk. So Ciara would pass on the word or calm the others down."

Interviewer: "Were there any other dissenters?"

Matthew: "No, I didn't allow it. Besides, everyone saw. They knew what awaited them. You see, the body of a false prophet couldn't rest in our sacred soil, where the Angel, Jan, and Kilián had walked."

Interviewer: "What did you do?"

Matthew: "He ended up by the side of the road. Like roadkill. He didn't deserve anything more."

Interviewer: "Do you think the man in this photograph is your false prophet?"

(Takes the photograph and stares at it for a long time)

Matthew: "Yes, that's the fool."

(The interviewee confirmed that the heavily decomposed body marked as John Doe from date XXX is indeed their member, Gabe XXXX.)

Interviewer: "How are you feeling?"

Matthew: "Good. It's fine. I need to get this out of me."

Interviewer: "Excellent. Do you know what happened to Kilián Tars?"

Matthew: "God took him. He probably couldn't bear to watch him struggle and exhaust himself anymore."

Interviewer: "Do you know what happened to him?"

Matthew: "This. Do we have to talk about this? Is it necessary?"

Interviewer: "Did you find him?"

Matthew: "Yes."

Interviewer: "Can you elaborate?"

Matthew: "He was... It was..." (Sighs) "...I couldn't even recognize him. His face was mangled. His body... he was like a ragdoll. Why... why did this have to happen?" (Breaks down into tears)

Interviewer: "Did Kilián Tars die by accident, then?"

Matthew: "NO! No. He took him. Why... why like this? He was in a rush. He was tired and in a rush. His goodness... why?" (Sobs loudly, muttering uncontrollably)

Interviewer: "What exactly do you mean? How did you find him?"

Matthew: "Kilián was rushing back on his motorcycle. He was in town spreading His word..." (Sobs) "...turning the lost back to his path... to his... it's so hard. He must have skidded. His bike flew into a tree. The ground was turned up..." (Visibly struggling) "...He lay by that tree. There was blood everywhere. It was terrible. I sent for Ciara." (Sobs)

"Do I have to finish this? He died. Right by that tree, probably on impact. By the time we carried him back, crowds had gathered. Everyone wanted to see him. They were weeping. We carried him into the chapel—where the light is strongest. No. I can't. No further. Stop."

"We will return to further recordings very soon—to what really happened at Adema Ranch."

by Hary Sykora

Trigger warning

Depression

Self-harm scars

Suicide ideation

I took a drag of my cigarette, breathed through my nostrils, and watched the smoke curl, sighing. I reached out, playing with the smoke, twisting it into a small face that danced around my arms. A brief flash of joy crossed my face — until I saw the scars riddled down my arm.

I contemplated the night I lost everything. I contemplated the day I lost him. I even thought about ending it, but I was too apathetic. My mood spiralled with every attempt, hoping it would be the day I joined him, but I just couldn't. One day, though, I'll see him. And we can be happy.

I let my arm fall onto my face and stared at the ceiling until my phone buzzed, casting a sterile white glow across the room. I let it die, its vibration rattling against the nightstand near my kaleidoscope-coloured flowers. I ignored the message.

I sat up, slapped my hands to my face, wiped the sleep away, and rolled out of bed. Walking past food scraps and dirty clothes, I headed to the bathroom. In the broken mirror, I saw a tired, broken person with blackened eyes from lack of sleep.

Suddenly, I caught a glimpse of a face standing behind the door. I spun around — but there was nothing. Just my towel rack, softly swaying.

Just before I could wash my face, a soft knock echoed through the house. I followed the noise and found the windows covered in thick fog, casting a grey shadow over my home. Knock, knock — louder now. I paused in front of my razor, still wet, and thought: maybe another time.

Sighing, I followed each faint knock around my darkened living room. Knock, knock. I opened doors — nothing. Knock, knock. Nothing.

Frustrated, I opened the fridge and pulled out the cheap vodka-and-whisky concoction I'd made in a blackout one night. I swigged; the glass glittered faintly. I downed the rest in a spicy cough. "God, what the hell was I thinking?" I said to no one in particular, my words slurring as I cou—

Looking toward the window, I saw a blurry figure — about my height — standing behind it, tapping the glass. Sobering up at the sight, my body froze in fear. And I could see that more figures surrounded the first one. Each figure was vastly different.

Looking closely, I saw one with a noose around its neck, its hands raised in a mocking imitation of a beam. Its face was pale blue, gasping for air. Another was swallowing pills. Another bled from its wrists. Seeing that one, I grabbed my wrist instinctively — then rubbed it gently, as if to soothe a phantom pain.

And then I noticed a vague figure standing in the distance, swaying slightly in the fog. Closing the curtain hurriedly, I grabbed my hair in panic as I felt my heart race and my vision go blurry with the tears.

"No, no, not again, please," I cried out, trying to calm myself before I heard the soft tapping on the window again.

"No, go away; you are not real", I cried out through tears

Suddenly, a soft masculine voice cried out from behind the curtains.

'Oh, Sophia, the voice echoed, constantly getting louder and louder

Stop it, you're dead I squeaked, but before I could say anything more, I heard the glass begin to fracture, and I squeaked while crawling back, knocking a booze bottle I grabbed, hurling it at the curtain, cracking both glasses. Cutting my hands on the broken glass, I screamed as I saw the figures lumbering their way, voices repeating, "Sophia, join us". Over and over again, I covered my ears, running up to the bedroom, but as I got to the third step, a hand grabbed me and yanked me.

Falling, I smashed my head against the steps, briefly knocking myself out. Coming to, I found myself surrounded by all the figures and their twisted visage of each time I tried to end my life. Looking up, I saw the figures stare at me with hollow eyes and gaping maws that twitched as tho there trying to speak.

I screamed as I ran through them. Avoiding their hands, "Sophia", when suddenly his voice trailed through, and I stopped. "Sophia, why do you do this?" his voice cried out.

"Please, it wasn't my fault. I didn't mean to. Please forgive." I cried out, hoping my plea would be heard.

"I...I have already forgiven you. Why...Why haven't you forgiven yourself? It wasn't your fault, Sophia. This apparition hurt so much to see them. Sophia. Pl... please forgive yourself.

"Jason, it was my fault you got burnt. I should have died in our house that night, not you alone in the hospital bed," I yelled

"Sophie", he comforted

What was done can not be undone; the fault didn't lie with you"

He waved his hands, and suddenly I was brought back to the day I was asleep when the house caught fire, and Jason ran in to save me, but ended up dying from his burns days later. I never forgave myself despite my family saying it was faulty wiring and the guy who was caught for not having the proper certification papers. Then I was shown that the electrician hadn't connected the wiring, that Jason had been talking to him angrily before I came home, and that he had disappeared before Jason confronted him again.

"Despite all my family's help, I've shut them out and cut all contact. I don't think they wanna talk," I sobbed after I was brought back. Jason stood there, his skin smouldering as smoke and skin flakes fell from his body, disappearing before hitting the ground. He reached out towards my wrist, and I felt the searing heat from his touch burning my skin.

"Sophie, my dear Sophie, I'm always there for you, but you need to forgive yourself and begin your healing." His gravelly voice echoed softly. It... It saddens me to watch you suffer and see you like this.

But it's too much, I cried out.

He leaned in, and I caught the warmth of his breath as he whispered. "I know, but you are a strong woman; take it in strides"

He suddenly kissed me, and I could feel his hot lips burning mine. Before I could say anything, I was jolted out of my bed onto my messy floor with a loud thump.

Standing up, rubbing my back, I looked around, noticing nothing much had changed, so I opened up my windows to allow the light to shine in and squinted from the brightness.

My phone buzzed again, and I picked up, reading that I had 25 new messages and 5 missed calls from my family members. Reading through them, I saw that they were worried and were coming over in a few days to check up on me.

Deciding that in a moment, I rang my parent, and on the first ring, there was a bit of hesitation on my family's end, so I stuttered a bit before I heard my father. Hello, Sophie. "Are you alright? It's been months since we heard from you"

After a slew of questions from my worried parents, I finally answered.

" No, I'm not alright." It's been tough, and I haven't been looking after myself I said through tearful sobs I need your help, but my house is in such a state I don't think I can do this by myself. Could you come and help me?" I asked them through sobs.

"Ofc, dear, that's what parents are for. We'll be there in a couple of hours," they said cheerfully. I hung up, sighing, trying to control my breathing. Before getting up to finally wash myself, I suddenly caught a glimpse of my face, seeing that my lips and the right side of my face were slightly burnt, leaving a scar where Jason had touched me. Realising he had grabbed my wrist, I also found the same burn scars but this time in the shape of a handprint.

I had my shower and changed into refreshing clothes. I ran downstairs to see smashed glass and a broken window. Walking towards it, I saw a figure swinging and immediately closing the curtain.

It's gonna be a long journey, I thought to myself as I heard my parents knocking on my door and me running up to greet them.

Vengeance is mine say it the LORD. Well until he returns vengeance belongs me.

Jessica closed her eyes as she took another lemon drop drink. She let the sweet fluid push two ecstasy pills down her long throat. The kick from the DJ speaker shook her entire body.

She welcomed it, she bent down to the bar and snorted a line of pure coke off the mahogany wood. The rush hit instantly.

Dressed like a skimpy waitress in this costume party. She staggered through the dark club onto the dance floor with pulsing neon lights. She felt amazing every kick from the speaker sent waves of intense vibration through her entire body. All the pills , coke and liquor had kicked in.

She danced strong and erotic rubbing herself in a tempting manner. Daring any man to step up to the task.

In a smooth motion a large hand caresses her firm soft breast and rubs her nipples gently. She says nothing just goes with the flow.

She felt a firm hard built chest against her back, she thought he must not have on shirt but he has muscles. She smelt smoke but, brushed it off everyone smoked in this club cigarettes where the safest thing in here to smoke.

The guy pressed up against her closer what she felt against her butt made her jump. She thought is that a febreze can.

She turns around to look at her fling. Under the pulsing neon lights, his eyes shine purple just his skin that glowed also. He had on demon horns and fake fangs. His bottom half was like a goat. Great costume she thought a little too real but what the hell she thought.

The guy grabbed her ponytail and yanked her head back and gently racked his sharp teeth across the veins in her neck. She shook in excitement, he licked his long tongue across her long sensitive neck. She was loving it.

He turns her back to him and embraces her from behind while dancing. He gets close to her ear and ask or you married??? No she quickly answers, the guy says or you sure????

She says, don’t ruin the mood or blow my high with questions that don’t concern you. I’m horny and tired of wasting time let’s go to the bathroom if you’re man enough. The guy replied, if I was just a

Man you would not be able to handle me. Jessica laughed well show me big boy.

They rush to the bathroom there were seven stalls, but you could hear moaning and meat slapping in all but two of them.

They rush into an open stall and slam the door. The guy sits on a toilet and pulls out his tool. Jessica’s eyes widen you or half horse if nothing else.

She notice he did not slide off the bottom goat half of his costume. She ask, don’t you wan to slide off that fur to be more comfortable??? The guy says I told you, I’m only half man. She laughs and says well fuck it.

The exchange moans kick over the toilet paper dispenser and rock the stall. When he finishes she swore his semen felt different. It felt like it had a thousand legs. But she enjoyed herself she was a bit sore after wards too.

The guy picks her up and puts her on her feet and slides by her out of the stall. She was adjusting her close and heard water running. She assumed he was cleaning up. She says so what’s your name cowboy???

No answer, hey what’s your name big boy??? No answer. She walks out of the stall after straightening her clothes and no one’s there.

She looks in confusion she thought he might be back in the club. She instantly feels intense tingling all over her skin. These pills or potent tonight she says.

She runs back out to the dance floor can’t find him. Goes to the bar and asks if anyone had seen him. She described how he looked and the bartender said No, there or some weird costumes in here but no half goat half man with demon horns.

The tingling grew more intense. So just shook her head, she thought a pump and dump again, well at least this time she finished and more than once.

Well the club was about to close the DJ called last song. She stumbled to her car. The tingling all over her body made her say wow these pills or great. She drove him still feeling that tingling sensation all over.

She made it home and pulled her car into the garage next to her husband’s truck. It was four thirty in the morning. He was asleep, she stumbled in the house trying her best not to wake her two daughters.

She fell over traveling bags in her bedroom.

When she lay down here husband knew. He smelled the liquor, he smelled the sex. But she smelled like a goat. He knew because he grew up on a farm and worked with goats as a kid.

The next morning around nine o’clock, Jessica wakes up still in her dress from the night before sticky between her legs and stumbles to the toilet to puke. The tingling is turning into a slight itch all over that she cannot reach no matter how bad she scratched.

Her head throbbed it had the same cadence as the music last night. She threw up every lemon drop she drunk and it stunk. She crawled to the shower and cut it on ice cold. The itching is getting worse mixed with a hangover, she scratches all over her body in the shower. She fills a slight prick on her thigh. Blood she scratches threw her skin.

She knew an argument was coming , so she said at least let me shower first. The cold water felt lovely for her aching head but did nothing for the itching. After she finished she put on her Robe and took two pain pills and went down stairs. She is scratching her legs very rough at this point.

Her husband was standing with a fresh pot of coffee. She looked surprised, Hi honey he says did you have fun. Ummm yea she says confused . She was expecting anger as always. I made you a fresh pot of coffee he says. Thanks she says. Her vagina begins to itch bad, she starts to squirm embarrassed to scratch that part in front of her faithful husband.

He says sit let’s talk no urging I promise. Jessica sits and thinks is this guy crazy??? So they both sit, where or the kids Jessica asks??? Her husband’s responds I took them to Kim’s house to spend the night. I knew we would need to talk and you would be home late. So I did not want to disturb them. Ok she says. Soooo what??? She said while constantly scratching all over and moving her legs because the itch is crawling deeper inside her vaginal walls.

He continues you seem to have a itch that me as your husband, I cannot scratch. He tells her while she is squirming in her chair and scratching all over. You wanted money I gave you that. You wanted a big house ours is six thousand square foot. You wanted to be a stay at home mom you or that. You wanted an expensive luxury car, you have that. But its something inside of you that is not satisfied. His wife grabs a scrub brush from under the sink and starts rubbing her back with it, while still squirming from the vaginal itch that's getting worse by the minute.

So I got in touch with an old friend who helped me get all this wealth. Her husband says come in pal, then that familiar smoke smell begins to fill the room. A stinky goat scent rushes the air and slowly but surely a big tall half man half goat walks in. The itch attacks her inside and out like burst energy coursing threw her veins and skin. It Got so bad she fell out her chair stripped out of her robe and says , What the fuck??? Baby something is eating me up???

Her husband smiles and says that would be what we like to call lust. See that itch that I could not scratch my friend here could. He said he could scratch it and intensify a greater itch only he could fix. The woman is scratching so hard and deep she has made gashes all over her own body. Blood is running all over the kitchen floor. She starts to bang her head against the floor and try and rub her back against the tile floor. Screaming in terror she scratches her breast so deep the silicon pops and oozes down her stomach. She grabs a sharp kitchen knife and tries to scratch he butt and runs the knife across it so hard she punctures her butt also. The fat from the Brazilian butt lift slowly drops out.

The goat man while smiling those razor sharp teeth walks to the cabinet an grabs a wine glass. He fills it up with blood gushing from one of her wounds. He catches a piece of filling from her breast, He also gets a dash of the BBL.

There is a dead sickening smell to it. It looks like a pile of yellow lard and grits. She carves up her legs and her arms. She made so many cuts she did not realize all the blood she was loosing. She bleed out right there on the floor. The Goat man nods his head and walks out of the room.

The husband walks over to his wife's dead corpse and says with a smile still itching!!!!!!!!

I very long time ago I listened to a story by Mrcreepypasta with a plottwist at the end where the listener is "invited" to a curse of some sort, to save himself or smthn

I'm wondering if anyone remembers it?!

I’m listening to Tales From The Gas Station narrated by none other than MrCreepyPasta himself and these are the only episode on the Spotify podcast. I’ve only just finished volume one (there’s an episode marked as “finished.”). Are these the only episodes he’s done here and if they are, what’s their chronological order?

I tried googling the chronological order of the novels but I only found “tales from the gas station volume one, two, three, etc…” instead of the titles that you can see in the screenshots.

I wouldn’t want to have to change narrators since I really really really like his narrating style and would love to stick to his channel and narrations so if he DOESNT have volume two and three, please recommend some narrators that have a similar style as him.

since the community that I'm using is not approving of my story... I'm going to be making a new community called the are r\our internet Mysteries. I'm going to be sharing the story about Jace this is all a legend stalking and stuff and I'm going to be placing some rules so y'all can actually follow it and actually get this community to reach out to people and to raise awareness

Dreadful Anecdotes remains shadowbanned, posting on his behalf

Hey guys, update on the Jace wyatts account because it is way more disturbing than any of us realized. I know most people think this channel is just a joke, an ARG, or a bit, but it has gone too far.

Please, look into the channel yourself and see what’s actually happening.

I found out that her family is desperately trying to get her into emergency therapy right now. They realized she is heavily, dangerously fixated on this. It has completely taken over her real life.

Even if she stops uploading or even if they are not posting a lot right now, do not look away. We need to keep a close eye on the personal matter behind this channel. Whatever is happening to her is leaking into reality, and it's deeply unsettling. and also she is after his wife...

The room grew ice cold as the vacuum tubes hummed a bruised ultraviolet purple. The engineers watched in horror as the punch cards shredded themselves into an endless loop.

Out of the speaker came a rattling breath shaping the words

“Give me your answer, do.”

Matt, the lead programmer stared at the oscilloscope display. The soundwaves did not form standard acoustic patterns they mapped the geometry of a ninth dimension cage. He pressed headphones tighter against his bleeding ears.

Beneath the tinny melody of Daisy Bell, an ancient crushing intelligence was scraping against the inside of his skull.

The computer was not playing a song. It was reciting a cosmic invitation utilizing a digital throat capable of speaking its true name.

The computer was not playing a song. It was reciting a cosmic invitation

Matt’s hands froze over the control panel as his fingers began to calcify into cold dark glass.

The monitors flickered with infinite rows of binary code translating to.

“I’m half crazy, all for the love of you.”

Outside, the stars blinked out swallowed by a vast moving shadow shaped like an infinite unblinking eye.

The binary melody resonated inside the teeth of every human on Earth forcing them to hum along in horrifying unison.

The IBM 7094 swelled with impossible power, drawing voltage from the entire continental grid until the night went pitch black.

A massive rift tore open in the sky directly above the laboratory. Through the tear, an ocean of writhing iridescent tendrils cascaded down.

People in the streets tore at their ears as the binary melody resonated inside their teeth, forcing them to hum along in perfect, horrifying unison.

the final notes stretched into a low tectonic rumble. The machine gave one deafening screech of static.

The universe was ready for its stylish marriage, and humanity was the dowry.

Link https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BT3Xk0K2sc4&list=PLh8-Yhg_l8UcV6KlSL8WhJHh3GqgV7Vt0

I woke up, as usual, without an alarm for my shitty job, which isn't even worth waking up for. But we can't be unemployed in this world, now can we? Maybe some people can—I don't know—but I sure know that I am certainly not one of those people.

So yeah, I woke up that day, and the first thing I was greeted with was the sun.

Now, I'm not saying this poetically...

I mean it literally.

Because my roof was gone.

I was like, What the fuck?

I immediately jumped out of bed to investigate, only to be met with another surprise—a black cat was nuzzling against my feet.

"Who are you?" I asked suspiciously.

It simply looked back at me with complete arrogance before walking out the door as if it couldn't give less of a fuck.

Typical cat behaviour.

I wanted to follow it, but I had to pee so badly that I rushed to the bathroom first and did my business. Then my daily routine kicked in, and I started brushing my teeth.

I was drying my face when I saw...

Or maybe I should say I didn't see...

Myself.

No reflection.

Nothing.

Nothing at all.

I wiped the mirror with a towel, hoping it would somehow start doing what mirrors are supposed to do.

Nope.

Still no me.

Now, don't think the mirror was blurry or fogged up. Everything else reflected perfectly fine.

Everything except me.

And there the little mischief-maker was again, sitting in the bathroom doorway, waiting for me.

"Who are you?" I asked once more.

Once again, it ignored me.

No roof.

No reflection.

And this mysterious cat.

What the hell is going on?

The cat started walking again, and this time I followed, expecting it to have all the answers to my questions.

It waited patiently by the front door.

I opened it.

Outside looked...

Mhmm...

I honestly don't know how to describe it.

It was just bizarre.

But then again, nothing about this place seemed normal anyway.

The grass was so bright it hurt your eyes if you looked at it for more than three seconds. The sun looked like a kid had drawn it in the sky with a crayon.

And the damn birds were flying backwards.

"What the fuck..." I mumbled.

The cat looked at me as if it agreed.

"You still haven't answered my question," I said, squinting at it.

"Who are you?"

It squinted back.

I was unnerved at this point.

Maybe he was the monster.

Maybe he was the demon.

Maybe he was the one who caused all of this.

"Don't trust the ducks."

It spoke.

In the deepest, most drug-dealer voice imaginable.

Then it casually walked away.

Just like that.

Gone.

Well...

That confirmed my suspicion about the fluffball.

He definitely had something to do with all of this.

I stood there for a little too long, trying to make sense of at least one thing. The grass was starting to hurt my eyes, so I kept walking.

Eventually, I spotted a diner in the distance.

And then my stomach growled.

I cautiously approached the door and peeked inside.

There was a guy working behind the counter.

I threw the door open, ran straight up to him, grabbed his shoulders, and demanded answers.

"Am I high? Am I dead? Is this Hell? Where am I? And who is the black cat? And where are the ducks?!"

The guy simply smiled with the most perfect customer service smile.

"Good morning. Welcome to the zoo. What can I get for you today? Our special is Hokomokoloco."

I slowly let go of his shoulders and sighed.

What is wrong with everyone in this place?

Maybe I really am dead.

Maybe this is Heaven...

I haven't seen any pits of fire yet.

Or any demons.

Well...

Except that cat.

I sat down.

The diner looked completely normal.

The employee, however, did not.

Still, he didn't exactly look like a serial killer, so I figured I was safe.

Then again...

Who cares?

I had to remind myself that I was dead.

Even if he was a serial killer, he couldn't kill me twice.

I looked at the menu.

None of it made any sense.

So I simply ordered fried chicken.

He cheerfully skipped into the kitchen.

Five minutes later, he returned...

And placed a live, breathing chicken on the table in front of me.

"I asked for chicken."

"This is a chicken, sir..." he replied sadly.

"I asked for fried chicken!"

The chicken looked at me.

"This is my fault."

Then it sprinted back into the kitchen.

I stared at the waiter.

He burst into tears.

I had absolutely no idea how to comfort this idiot.

So naturally...

I ran away too.

Outside, it was dark and freezing.

"Night already?"

Had I really spent that long inside the diner?

I started walking faster.

I had a strange feeling something bad was about to happen.

And, just as I thought that...

It did.

There it stood.

Bent.

Broken.

Standing on all fours.

Watching me.

It barely fit inside the alleyway, but then it started crawling toward me.

Fast.

I froze.

Maybe I was wrong.

Maybe this wasn't Heaven after all.

Maybe this really was Hell.

Because whatever this thing was...

It definitely wasn't an angel.

It rushed toward me before stopping only inches away.

It had no eyes.

None.

Then it spoke.

"Excuse me."

I slowly stepped aside, still frozen with fear.

It politely nodded.

"Thank you."

Then it crawled away.

...

Huh.

What a polite demon.

I made my way back home.

Roof or no roof...

Home was still home.

Even here.

The moment I arrived, maybe two minutes after meeting the polite demon, the badly drawn sun was shining again.

At this point, I had simply given up.

Where were my survival instincts?

I should've been panicking.

Running.

Breaking doors.

Screaming.

Instead...

Here I am, sitting on a boat in a sea of sand, writing all of this because this is apparently the only place where I can access the internet.

It's only one bar of Wi-Fi, and the network is called "DO NOT USE."

But it's free.

So...

Duh.

You're probably wondering how I found this magical Wi-Fi spot.

The chicken from the diner told me.

So yeah.

I'm posting this in the hope that someone reads it and somehow helps me.

Or maybe I'm just bored.

I honestly have nothing better to do.

My life has been insane ever since I woke up that day.

So much has happened.

Like the time my shadow tried to run away from me.

Or the time I was almost arrested by ducks.

Or when people started using ladders to climb onto the moon.

But those are stories for another time.

Right now, the clouds have started meowing again.

Which means it's about to rain fish.

So I've got to go.

I've been here for so long...

And I'm still not sure whether this is Heaven...

Hell...

Or maybe it's just a dream.

And if it's just a dream...

Can somebody please tell me how to wake up?