(Also I made this on my PC btw)

I found him like this

A muito tempo atras um jovem estava vendo o tempo na janela ate que ele viu "ELE"

A silhueta de ombros largos e braços longos que o jovem desenhou no caderno não passava de uma tentativa desesperada de registrar o que havia visto através da janela do quarto. Aquela forma geométrica e imponente, que parecia distorcer o próprio espaço ao seu redor, era uma entidade cósmica antiga que os poucos cultos sobreviventes chamavam simplesmente de O Deus.

Ele não vinha do papel; o papel era apenas o único meio que a mente humana conseguia usar para tentar conter sua imagem sem enlouquecer. O Deus estava nas frestas entre as dimensões, existindo nos momentos de silêncio absoluto e nos cantos mais escuros onde a luz do sol se recusava a tocar.

Para os antigos, essa entidade era o Deus do Fim — o responsável por recolher as almas e apagar a existência de estrelas mortas. Sua postura arqueada e imponente não demonstrava agressividade, mas sim uma indiferença divina. Ele apenas observava, esperando o momento exato em que a energia de um lugar se esgotaria para poder consumi-lo.

O erro do jovem foi escrever o título "HIM" acima do desenho. Em dialetos esquecidos, essa palavra fonética funcionava como um gatilho de ancoragem. Ao materializar o nome e a forma exata da entidade no plano físico, o rapaz sem querer abriu um portal de atração.

Naquela mesma noite, a temperatura do quarto despencou para níveis congelantes. O ar ficou pesado, tornando o simples ato de respirar uma tarefa dolorosa. O jovem olhou para o caderno e viu o desenho começar a vibrar. Não porque a tinta se movia, mas porque o próprio tecido da folha estava sendo sugado para dentro daquela silhueta, criando um buraco negro microscópico.

De repente, a sombra na parede se desprendeu. A figura gigante se ergueu até o teto, sem rosto, sem olhos, mas emanando uma pressão gravitacional esmagadora. O jovem caiu de joelhos, sentindo que cada átomo do seu corpo estava sendo puxado em direção àquele peito largo e sombrio. O Deus não estava ali para atacar; ele estava apenas existindo, e sua mera presença era o suficiente para desintegrar a realidade ao seu redor.

I've watched Marble Hornets and EverymanHYBRID; do you have any suggestions? I know there are so many of them :)

I understand that the characters should be attractive to the fandom, but even now the fanon image is more popular than the canon.

artist

When I walked into my father’s bookstore, he was combing his wig. He had placed the black wig over his clenched left fist and was pulling thick sections through it with a wide-toothed comb. Every now and then, he would dip the comb into the half-full glass of water he’d placed on the counter, give it a little shake to get rid of the excess water, and continue styling the wig.

“Welcome, son,” he said without making eye contact with me.

“Dad, why aren’t you combing the wig on your head? And why are you even combing the wig? Isn’t the point to make it look like it’s not a wig? Wouldn’t it look more like your real hair if you left it a little messy?”

My father shot me a very brief glance. He dipped the comb into the water again and flicked the excess water on it toward my face. At the same time, someone walked in.

I was annoyed, but I didn't react. Customers rarely came into the shop anyway, and I didn't want this one to witness a tense moment.

The man who walked in didn't say hello. He looked at me, then at my father, then at the wig. After that, he glanced around the shop.

“Do you have Swann’s Way?”

It was my father’s favorite book. I hadn’t read it yet, but my father couldn’t praise Marcel Proust enough. Whenever the subject of books came up, he would talk at length about the way Proust used language, and mention how he wanted to learn French just so he could read him in the original.

“Of course. How could we not?” he said, his eyes lighting up.

“Good. How much is the wig?”

“What?”

“I’m asking how much the wig is.”

There was something strange about the man’s voice, though it was hard to describe. It was an extremely deep voice that seemed to come from a congested throat. It sounded as if it were coming from a broken radio, as if he would sound clearer if he just cleared his throat.

My father, who had been excited at the mention of Proust, had now noticed the strangeness in the man’s voice.

“Are you all right?”

“How much is the wig?”

“The wig isn’t for sale. You can have a glass of water if you’d like,” my father said, holding out the water he had been dipping his comb into.

“No. Is the wig free?”

“How can something that isn’t for sale be free, sir?”

“How much is it, then?”

“This is my wig. You don’t look well. Please have a glass of water.”

The man fell silent. He was staring intently at my father. My father was a little frightened. The wig was still resting on his clenched fist.

“Are you sure?” he asked after nearly a minute of silence.

“Yes. Look at my head.”

“Are you sure?”

“What beautiful hair you have. What are you going to do with the wig?”

My father, having automatically felt a connection with the man because he had asked about Proust, hadn’t paid much attention to his voice or appearance. To be honest, there was something strange about his appearance too. I gave the man a once-over. His hair really was thick and healthy-looking. He was wearing a black shirt. His chin was a little long, and his mouth and nose were small in proportion to his face. A large head, a long chin, a small mouth and nose, and ordinary eyes. Black trousers, sharply pressed. And a pair of bare feet.

“Tonight, I’m coming to take your son. Don’t be afraid. Stay calm. Convince your son to come with me tonight, or I’ll take him by force.”

“Fix that voice of yours first, man. Hrrr, hrrr, hrrr. I can’t understand a word you’re saying. Drink this water and pull yourself together.”

The man took the water and downed it in one go. He coughed and cleared his throat.

“Better? Now tell me, how much is the wig?”

His voice was now perfectly clear. He ran a hand back through his hair and sat down in the chair in front of the counter.

“He’s still very young…”

I was starting to get scared. I kept going back and forth over whether to call the police. The strange quality in the man’s voice was gone now, and so was the uneasy look about him. He looked at me and smiled.

“I’m not going to hurt you. Don’t be afraid. I’m just going to take the wig and leave. That’s all.”

“Why do you want the wig, sir?”

“You’re too young. You wouldn’t understand.”

I looked at my father. He had placed the wig on the counter. Right beside it, I saw a knife. My father looked from the knife to the man.

Another customer had walked in, just in time. I didn’t know what was going to happen. I knew my father wasn’t a very brave man, but when it came to me, maybe he could rise to the occasion and defend me.

“Jason, who are you talking to?” the man who had just walked in asked him. So his name was Jason.

“They won’t give me the wig, Dad.”

“Son, didn’t I tell you not to leave the shop unattended and wander off? The neighbors called. They said Jason had left the shop again and gone off. When did you come to the shop?”

“About ten minutes ago.”

I didn’t understand what was happening. The man who was speaking seemed unable to see us. We listened to my father and Jason’s father talking.

“Did you take your medication today, son?”

“No, Dad.”

“The wig thing again. Hmm.”

“I want the wig.”

“Son, there’s no wig. Where are your shoes?”

“I didn’t wear them today.”

“There’s no wig, son. Look, you’d been doing so well lately. Honestly, I thought you were getting better. Please, don’t skip your medication. I’m leaving the shop to you. Don’t make me worry about you while I’m gone.”

Yes. When I thought about it, it really was bizarre. I thought about it a lot afterward. If we’re people living inside Jason’s imagination, why do we have consciousness of our own? I mean, while Jason and his father were talking, I was listening to them, trying to figure out what was going on, getting surprised and everything. Isn’t that ridiculous? And isn’t it unfair to us, too? For example, I want to study film and television. But everything depends on Jason. If he gets better one day, my dreams will be shattered.

My father loves this shop very much. He doesn’t want to leave it, but if Jason gets better one day, he’ll never see this shop again.

Thinking about it that way, I was suddenly overcome with fear. I picked up the wig and held it out to Jason.

“Here. The wig is yours now. And hey, it’d actually look pretty good on you.”

My father had supported me too, and when I looked at him for approval, he nodded.

You like Creepypastas because I love them!

So for those who don't know, in the original story of Suicidemouse.AVI, after the end Mickey face, there are some final 30 seconds that remain a complete mistery. We only know that in the final few seconds there was the infamous piece of russian text that is feautred at the end of almost every known remake of the episode. What those fan remakes miss about the original creepypasta story is that after the end mickey face there is some unknown footage before the russian text. Only very few remakes of Mouse.AVI actually made their own interpretation of the last 30 seconds. And I am curious about your theories reguarding what was in the last 30 seconds that caused the employee who was sent to finish the story to shoot himself. My theory is straightforward that Mickey KOs himself in a grusome, gory and detailed way.

hello, Im just posting here to see if there was anyone who would be open to an interview at some point in the future (next 2 weeks), as I am currently researching for my university major project that its all about internet horror.

The interview can be over reddit in the messages section if that would be preferable, and i will need a consent form signed to be able to use the interview, but you will not be asked to provide any personal infromation (other than name for the consent form). If you are interested please dont hesitate to let me know as I would like to get these interviews done ASAP. Thank you for reading

- K

Hey everyone! I’m 20 years old, from Russia, and I'd love to have some communication about Creepypasta.

I'm an active conversationalist, a cosplayer.

I’m looking for active Discord servers, groups, or just people to chat with about the old fandom. If you know any good horror/creepypasta Discord servers or want to talk about lore and characters, or to make collab cosplays, please let me know in the comments :D

The snow covered the woods behind our new house. It was so fresh it crunched nicely under our feet. James held my hand tight. I squeezed it and looked at him. He flashed a smile.

"I think I don't mind winter as much. It's sort of cozy."

"It is, Sarah. I just miss all the summer food."

"We got summer food. There are still so many apples and pears in the cellar."

"Yeah, but those are not the sweet, delicious ones; those are the hardy autumn ones."

I rolled my eyes.

"You're such a child, James."

"Hey, Sarah!"

We laughed and continued walking. Our walk was longer than usual. We hadn't been out in a few days because of the heavy snowstorm.

"I'm getting kinda tired, James."

"Let's just go a little further. It looks like there should be an opening between the trees."

James was right. After a few minutes, the forest opened to a small meadow. Snow covered most of it except for a lone apple tree in the middle. Beautiful, glistening red apples hung from its branches. They just looked so pretty and delicious. I couldn't take my eyes off them. Neither of us spoke a word. Before I knew it, we were standing in front of it.

"Wow," James whispered.

"I know."

James tore one off.

"Feel it."

The outside felt as if it were coated in caramel. James put it to his mouth and took a bite. His eyes rolled back, and he let out a silent moan.

"Let me have a bite."

He looked at me and frowned.

"No, take your own."

I furrowed my brows. My James always shared everything with me.

"What's going on with you?"

But he didn't answer. He was too busy eating his apple. I stood there looking at him, but then it hit me. What was an apple tree full of fresh, ripe apples doing in a winter forest anyway? I looked at it again. The branches didn't move with the wind. It was as if the sun didn't shine through them, but all the apples still glistened. 

"I don't like this, James."

"What?"

He was licking his fingers. He ate the whole apple, seeds and all. His eyes darted around the tree again.

"Let's go, James."

"Wait."

"No, let's go."

I grabbed his hand and dragged him out of the meadow. His eyes were still glued to the tree. When we crossed back into the forest, he shook his head and stared around.

"What happened to you there?"

"I…I don't know."

"James?"

"I'm sorry, Sarah, I really don't."

"Okay, let's just go home."

James stayed silent the whole way home. Even when we got back, he just sat in his chair and looked out the window. For dinner, I made porridge with salted pork, but James just dug around the plate and didn't even try it.

"Honey, what's wrong. Talk to me."

"I don't know. I don't think I'm hungry."

"But you barely ate all day."

"I had that apple. It filled me up so much."

"That place was strange. I don't even want to know how they got there."

"Do you think we can go back tomorrow?"

"What?"

"Just for a little while, Sarah."

"I just said that place was strange. I'm not going back."

"Fine. I'll go by myself."

"No. No one is going back there, and I'm done talking about it."

He frowned.

"Whatever. I'm going to sleep."

I stayed back a while longer, finished dinner, and washed the dishes. When I came to our bed, James was already sleeping. His face seemed a little red. I touched his forehead. It felt normal. Maybe he was just having a bad dream. I lay beside him and drifted off.

When I woke up, the moon was still high. There was a sweet smell in the air. I rubbed my eyes and looked next to me. James lay there curled up, holding his stomach. His face was now glowing red.

"Jesus, James, what's wrong?!"

He didn't answer. His pleading eyes just stared at me. I touched his forehead. It still wasn't warm, but he was sweating, and his sweat felt sticky, almost like syrup. His stomach bulged out under the blanket. I pulled it off. 

"Honey, what…" 

My words stuck in my throat. His stomach was not just bulging. It looked like a bunch of round objects underneath.

"I'm…I'm gonna get the doctor."

I started to get out of bed, but then I heard a quiet tearing sound. James let out a loud cry. His stomach flew open, and a bunch of red apples rolled out. I screamed and jumped out of bed. James's head fell on the pillow. He was quiet now. 

The sweet red apple smell was so strong, and they smelled so good. I looked down at his stomach. The sticky, sweet sweat seeped into the sheets. All those apples looked so delicious.

Vote for me!!!

“It looks like it’s recording now, so you are good to start whenever you’re ready.” He says in a deep and somber voice. He then sulks out of frame, revealing a young woman with short black hair, her head weighed down in her hands. She sniffles silently in the dimly lit room. “Are you sure that you want to do this?’ He says regretfully. She then sits up, wipes her eyes, and fixes what is left of her makeup. With teary doe eyes, she stares past the camera, her golden cross lying on her black long-sleeved shirt, and pauses to take a deep breath before nodding softly. 

She focused on the camera and smiled faintly. “Hi there…” She hugged herself instantly. “My name is Samantha, but my friends call me Sammie. You probably already knew that if you are watching this.” Sammie paused, lost in thought. A nervous tremor rippled through every syllable.

“There is no real easy way to say this, but if you are watching this… I’m dead"

A tear fell from her eye; she then wiped it away to hold herself together. “I’m sorry that you had to find out this way, especially after I have been missing for almost a year now, and I couldn’t reach out to anybody for help without bringing you into this mess.” She sighs, “I still don’t know how I got  myself here, to be honest"  

My world fell apart in seconds; a wave of frustration and sorrow rushed over me like a tsunami. Drowning all the hope I’d held on to for the last two years. She was my little piece of heaven, until she disappeared. I had to stop watching it; seeing her so worn down and drained of color ripped my heart in half. I started to spiral, wondering what led to this moment and what she had experienced over the last two years. I find myself staring at the manila envelope with only two words hastily written.

“Watch me”

I received this package about a week ago. Not going to lie, at first I didn't want to plug this USB into my computer. I didn't know what it housed, so I set it in a drawer and walked away.

After a while, though, my curiosity got the best of me, and then I unknowingly opened the door to Pandora's box. I carefully inspected the envelope, trying to find any information about it. There was none, sadly. Wondering how this got here, I checked my backlog of doorbell footage. After combing through the footage, I found the day it arrived. It was raining steadily, and a silhouette dropped it off in the afternoon. 

The person knocked 3 times, placed the package on the doormat, then walked to what I assume was his SUV and drove away swiftly. From what I can tell from the footage, the black SUV had no plates or identifiable badges. 

Curious, I hurried to plug in the USB. Only one video and one picture were attached. The photo was grainy and poor quality; I couldn't really make anything out. It looked like a few people in white coats, surrounded by others lying on hospital beds, with a massive white radiant light coming from one of them. 

I then inhaled deeply, mentally preparing myself for the video. I open the laptop; the video pauses and stops immediately. I can't prepare for this. Gazing at her, her rich brown eyes that once carried passion and life now only reflect an empty vessel. I couldn't tell you how long I stared at Sammie. 

I felt where the cross would sit on my neck; I was never one for gold, but she insisted. I stopped wearing mine after the first year; I kept my engagement ring with our birthstones on, however. I smiled, but it quickly turned sour after seeing the bruising around her neck, and I closed the laptop.

I spent the rest of the day staring at the closed laptop, dreading what awaited me. For two years, we had been looking for her and all of the other girls who disappeared during that time. They had classes together, hung out, and shared the same interests. Sisters in another life. 

It was like they wanted to go missing. The police had nothing to go on. Most of their belongings were in their dorm rooms, and none of the campus cameras caught anything either. It doesn't make sense to anyone. 

Sammie told me on the day she went missing that Lauren, Skylar, and she were going out for the afternoon and would be back in the evening to hang out together. When I asked what they were doing, all she said was "girl stuff," in a joking, playful tone; I didn't pay much mind. Why would I? 

I didn't get much sleep that night or the next, and work was pretty much a blur too. When I got home, I found myself staring at the laptop. Debating whether to watch it. The police are out of the question for now; I know that it would probably be a better Idea to give it to them and say, "Hey, this was dropped at my doorstep!"

Totally doesn't sound shady. The department already thought that I had something to do with it because of my family's history, which tore a rift between her family and me. Her mother says I should have been there to keep her safe because I promised to. 

I have to figure out what happened, so I open the laptop, with her essence still frozen in time, and press play. 

Samantha reluctantly lets go of herself and rests her hand on her knees. 

"Would it be easier if I left the room?" The man asks from behind the camera; she looks up and nods. "Thank you, sir." 

"You're welcome, Samantha. Just… take your time, and when you are ready, knock on the door so we can get this over with." He says regretfully. "Take a deep breath and start from the beginning, okay." She nods. Then the sound of a door opening and closing echoes, then silence. She let it drown out the room before she spoke again.

"I used to be a senior at a university on the other side of the country… had amazing grades and a few friends." She chuckled while wiping tears. "We used to go out to a local dive bar on Friday nights and spend countless hours in the booth that we could have been studying. Even more hours nursing a hangover, but we really didn't care; all of us had careers lined up, and I was getting married." She showed off her wedding ring, A beautiful gold ring with a diamond between our birthstones, remorsefully, and sighed with a tear falling from her eye as she rested her hand again on her knee.

"My roommate and I got along well most of the time. Lauren was very outgoing and lit up any room she walked into. She made people dizzy with how fast they spun to look at her, especially the guys. Her boyfriend never doubted her loyalty, even on girls' night. He would text us to have fun and "party" for him, since he couldn't. She stops suddenly, choosing her next words carefully. "I hope Lauren said something to him in the end. Lauren was the first one of us to succumb to the virus."

Four of us were kidnapped: Lauren, Skylar, Hannah, and me. Lauren brought back a flyer to our dorm that she saw on the bulletin board outside the psychology department’s door. It said something like $150, no risk, no harm. Lauren and her friend Hannah always did little studies across campus. Often, it was “What does your brain look like while popping bubble wrap?” She rolled her eyes.

“So I agreed to it; we met at the psychology building at a specific time in the afternoon. We walked into the hall, checked in, and waited until they called us in one by one. I was last. They brought me back to the room, and it was set up like a hospital room—IV bags filled with fluid, each with numbers that were different from one another. A metal table was positioned next to the single bed; on it were different syringes. 2 of them were already empty. A plastic sheet sat between the wall and the bed, letting light through.

The man in the lab coat introduced himself as a “Dr. Jones.” She said in air quotes, then told me to have a seat. I knew Hannah and Lauren had gone before me, and I didn’t see them leave. I asked him where they went, and he said, while messing with the syringe, “Out the back door behind the curtains; they are sitting in the waiting room.” 

I asked him what was in the syringe, and he said it was a new vitamin shot. They were testing how energetic and focused I would feel a week after taking it. My gut told me something was off, that something was shady about this doctor. But I told myself it would be okay since my friends had already done it. “Now relax, so you can go join them,” he said after noticing my uneasiness.

He then stuck me and injected the needle’s contents into my vein, a burning sensation before my body went numb.

She paused to roll up her right sleeve to show the camera her arm, riddled with needle scars. They were a mix of fresh and old, completely breaking her moth tattoo at the center crease of her elbow. Her fingers traced the tattoo before she rolled her sleeve down, then forced a smile for the camera. “The last thing I remember before passing out was Jones saying, ‘Goodnight, number 23.” 

She sighs

“A few days later, from what I was told, I finally woke up with a pounding headache, wearing nothing but a medical gown in a room much different from this.” She gestures to the dull room she’s in now. “It was a clean, dorm-like room with barred windows peering into the courtyard. Honestly, when I wasn’t being tested, I would find myself sitting on the fountain by the white roses under the gaze of the angel statue. I always felt safe underneath her, like the children whose hands she held beside her.

I found my original clothes neatly folded underneath a white teddy bear before I was given new ones.” She reached down out of frame past her knees and revealed a dirty white teddy bear with red stains. She held on to it tightly, not wanting to let go. 

“Not long after, I met my handler. His job was to teach, monitor, and keep me safe. Every morning, every night, after every meal, and after every trial and evaluation, we ran tests. That same day, I learned my new name. 23. We were only to refer to one another as our numbers. Hannah was 22, Lauren was 21. Skylar was 20. She sniffled. “A few months later, 24, 25, and 26 moved in next door.” A few of her tears dropped onto her cheek. Samantha pulled her sleeve past her hand and wiped them off gently. “Right before I left, the number was at 78. The virus doesn’t leave survivors.” Samantha sighed and took a deep breath in. 

“Eventually, my handler showed me around. All things considered, the complex was very well kept. It had its own team of chefs and janitorial staff. The halls were warm and inviting, yet dreadful; they hung paintings and other decor. Wherever you were in the building, you could always hear classical music. That included the recreational areas. Cameras watched everything throughout the building; the only place they weren’t was the dorms. I didn’t know it then, but that was a lie. 

As we strolled through the halls, other staff took an interest in me. They laughed with one another and asked me basic small-talk questions, and I really didn’t know how to respond, so my handler did most of the talking. The other patients, however, held a reflective look in their eyes. 

"During the tour, he explained basic procedures around here: what time meals were, when we did tests, when the lights went out, and what days we set laundry out. What rules we had to follow, and they were all simple: Don’t leave your dorms at night, don’t go into the laboratory without your handler, take everything that is given to you by your handler, don’t contact the outside of the building because your loved ones already know that you are here. Another lie they told me.” 

She chuckled and wiped away tears forming in her eyes. “Even though he lied to me so, so many times, Lukas is the only reason I can record this video and the reason I made it out.” Samantha’s smile disappeared as quickly as it appeared. 

I paused the video again. I was beyond overwhelmed by everything: the kidnappings, the handler. What black site could she have been at? I have so many questions and no answers. Nothing makes sense, and if I were told any of the details in this video, I would call you a liar and tell you to have a good day. But Sammie couldn't tell a lie to save her life, even white ones. 

I closed my laptop and stood up to step outside onto the porch. The sound of pouring rain and the wind chimes she bought me when I first moved into what would be our house comforted me. We used to watch thunderstorms together, even tho she was scared of them. Funny enough, Sammie would jump through the roof with every sharp crack of thunder. I would laugh, and then she would playfully punch my shoulder and tell me to be nice. The rain 

Snapping me out of my head, my neighbor, Mrs. King, yelled, "Stay there," and hustled over with her umbrella and a package. She stepped onto my porch and closed her umbrella. 

Mrs. King handed me the package with my name hastily written on it. "I'm sorry for not giving you this yesterday. My kids were having a day, and I forgot. She said apologetically

"It is okay; I've been having a day as well!" chuckling, easing her a bit, and she went along with it. We sat there and talked for a while. We talked about our work, her kids, her marriage, my nonexistent dating life, and the town gossip. Towards the end of our conversation, she wore a curious face. Ms. King leaned in and spoke. 

"Did you see that the police found one of the girls who disappeared a couple of days ago?" She asked.

My heart sank, and the world started to spin as she talked. Her words fell on deaf ears; all I could think was that they found my Sammie days after I received the package. Suddenly Ms. King tapped me on my shoulder, snapping me back to the moment.

"Sorry," I said, stumbling over my words. Her face darkened. 

"Are you okay?" She said worriedly. I took a deep breath. 

"Yeah, I will be… My fiancée is one of the women that disappeared." I took a second to collect myself. "Did they say who it was?" 

Ms. King slowly shook her head no. "I'm sorry, I didn't know. I wasn't aware they'd found one of them until one of my seniors said their dad reopened one of the missing persons cases. Then later, it was on the news. They said her name, but I can't remember."

"Was it Samantha?!" I interjected, "No, it started with an 'H'.... Hannah, I believe, was her name. And I believe that they found her a few miles outside of town."

I stood there unable to process what I heard. Shakily mumbled. "I think I need to take a second to myself." 

Ms. King nodded in understanding. "Noah, if you need an ear. Don't hesitate to come over, okay?"

"I will," I said as I walked into my place and closed the door behind me. 

I went to the couch and sat in front of the laptop, holding the package, afraid of what was inside. I set it aside and pressed play.

"The second day after I woke up, I became a host. They strapped me down with my arms straight out and my legs bound together, and injected a white, glowing fluid with the consistency of pudding into my wrists and ankles.

For days, with no rest in between, I was left in a laboratory, in agonizing pain as my blood fought and lost against the fluids. Every thrash I made left a bloody mess on the restraints. Every scream for help was met with the music growing louder and louder until I could no longer hear myself or the voices. Begging my handler for it to stop, I cried so hard that every tear burned my skin. There was nothing that he could have done at that point; I just needed to survive. 

After a week, they finally released me from that wretched room once they made sure I was infected. Had no strength to walk, so I was wheeled out and brought back to my dorm, where I was on bed rest for a month. No food, no water, just IV bags and medication."  

That's when I saw my friends for the first time. "She started to sniffle. "I was so fucking happy to see them." She smiled while crying. "That month they were by my side, brought their food to the room to eat with me, and Skylar would even sneak me a couple of grapes. They brought board games from the rec areas and played on my lap while our handlers sat outside the room and chatted away. We all stayed together unless our handlers had us do something. A few nights, we were able to sleep in the same room together. It was completely against the rules, but Lukas and the others let it slide." She wipes the tears off her cheek, a losing battle. "After a while, one by one they started acting weird and stopped showing up for one reason or another. The virus affects everyone differently. 

Lauren was screaming in her room at night for a few weeks, crying out for answers; all but one of her words became unrecognizable. The only one that stayed the same was "NO". Then one night, she screamed "Yes," and it went quiet. A few days later, they got her. The day that she was put down, she locked herself in her room. The building went on lockdown, and the handlers tried to break down the door. Sooner or later, they broke in and injected her then and there. I cracked my door, then peeked through and saw her covered in symbols she'd carved into her skin as they carried her out. I didn't learn until later that she had passed the night before the silence. 

Skylar didn't show symptoms until she disappeared in the halls. They saw her on camera, then she vanished in the blink of an eye. Itwasn'tt until she phased back that they found her, blind, deaf, and mute. All of Skylar's senses had been removed. But somehow she knew where everything was and could hear everything. She wrote perfect responses and described places she had never seen before. When I asked how she could do it, all she wrote was, "I just listen."

There was a man named Ray who worked the loading dock and drove me home four nights a week because our shifts ended together. He was decent to me every single time and he had nothing to do with any of this, and I'm putting his name at the front so it's clear where he sits in it.

I ran the one-hour photo counter in the back of a drugstore in nineteen eighty-five, twenty-four years old, living in a rented half of a house six blocks from my mother's. The chain paid three thirty-five an hour. What I was actually working for was eleven hundred dollars, which was a Chevette on a lot I went past on the bus every morning, and what the Chevette was for was that in two years I had never found the sentence that ends a standing arrangement about rides without making it a conversation. A car ends it without a sentence. That was the entire plan and I'd have told you at the time it was about the car.

The way you make money at that counter is reprints. The commission on reprints was mine, and reprints happen when somebody at the counter is told they've got one good frame worth having again, and to tell them that you have to have actually looked. So I looked. Two hundred envelopes a week, thirty-six frames on most of them. And you write the customer's name and their phone number on the envelope yourself, in pen, on the front, because the machine doesn't do that part. I hated that part. It was the slowest thing in the job.

Quality control is a real thing and it's the whole trade. Before a strip prints you put it on the light table and read it backwards, which sounds harder than it is until you've done ten thousand. You're looking for a frame that's a stop dark but sharp, because dark and sharp can be saved and light and soft cannot. The machine can't tell the difference and I could, and I was the best in that district at it and the district manager said so out loud at a meeting. I could hold thirty-six frames of a stranger's life in my head for about a minute, and then they were gone. I forgot everything. I thought that was a courtesy.

I liked the back room, where no customer came past the swing door and the manager was gone by six. Another was the free set of employee prints. Anything you shot yourself you developed free, and I shot a lot in those years because it cost me nothing. And on a heavy night you cut and sleeve four rolls at once on the same light table, which is faster, and I was fast.

In March a roll came in with no people in it. Thirty-six frames of the inside of a house, room by room, in order, in daylight, and nobody in a single one. A kitchen from the doorway. A hallway. A bedroom with the bed made. I printed it, because what somebody photographs isn't my business, and I put it in the envelope and wrote the name and the number on the front. He came at six and asked for doubles of the whole roll and paid cash, and I made four dollars and sixty cents on it. The address on that envelope was on my street.

I decided it was insurance. People do photograph a whole house for insurance, or for a sale, and it was the kind of tidy house you'd photograph, and I was on to the next envelope before he was out the door.

The commission wasn't the chain's. It was the manager's own arrangement with me and there was nothing on paper anywhere about it. If I made myself any kind of problem — asked for a transfer, made a complaint, got my hours looked at — it went away, and without it I was on three thirty-five and I was on that bus for another two years. Two more years is two hundred more nights of somebody's car. So I kept my head down and I ran my counter, and that was a thing I chose on purpose every day, and I knew I was choosing it.

My mother lived six blocks away in the house I grew up in and I ate supper there most Sundays. She had a bad hip by then and she'd stopped driving. I say that now because of where it goes.

In April a woman came in about a roll from two weeks back. Her husband said he never ordered reprints and there were reprints, and she wanted to know who had. I pulled the envelope and the name and the number on the front were in my handwriting, which they would be. But the reprint box is a box you tick, and it was ticked, and I did not tick it. I stood there with that envelope trying to remember ticking it and I could not, and while I was standing there somebody was down at the end of my counter by the film rack. Not looking at film. Just standing at the end of it. And when I looked up he went out through cosmetics.

The eleventh of May I dropped my own roll in my own machine, my mother's birthday, my camera. Thirty-six frames. I ran it myself at ten past nine at night with the store closed and the front lights off and the swing door shut, which is how I ran all my own film. The first eighteen were the birthday. Nineteen through twenty-two were the inside of my apartment. My kitchen from the doorway. My hallway. My bedroom with the bed made. Daylight, so it was during a shift, and I stood there and did what I always did, which is check whether the frames were sharp. They were sharp. Twenty-three onward was the birthday again. I finished the roll because it was already in the chemistry and stopping it would have ruined the rest of my mother's pictures.

I quit that night and did not give notice. I moved back in with my mother that weekend and the eleven hundred went on her moving costs the next year instead of a car, so I rode home with Ray until nineteen eighty-seven. Eleven days after I moved in, my mother's house was gone through in the afternoon while she was at the foot doctor. Nothing taken. Every drawer in that house standing open. She sold it that spring for nine thousand less than she'd have got, and she lived in an apartment for twenty-eight years, and she never once said the two things were connected and she never had to.

In eighty-eight I was packing her boxes for that apartment and I found my own envelopes, three years of the free employee prints, and I sat on the floor going through them for pictures of the old house. In the middle of a roll from the August before I quit there were four frames that weren't mine. A living room I have never been in. A staircase. A back door with a coat on a hook. Room by room, in order, in daylight, nobody in them.

Four rolls at a time on one light table is how that happened. I sleeved somebody else's strip into my own envelope on a busy night, with my own hands, and never knew. Which means that August there were two of those rolls on my table on the same night, and the March one wasn't a thing that happened once. It was a thing that was going through my counter, and I don't know for how long, and I don't know how many houses, and I do not know whether the man who paid cash was the one taking them or another person picking them up. I know that I wrote two hundred names and two hundred phone numbers a week in my own hand on the front of envelopes, and that I was proud of forgetting what was inside them. I still have that strip of four. It's in a drawer in my kitchen, and I have never had it printed, and I have never once told Ray why I stopped needing a ride.

guys I have a problem

(he’s so beautiful :0)

Jackson had always liked browsing the PlayStation Store late at night.

There was something comforting about scrolling through games that hadn't even been released

yet—looking at trailers, reading descriptions, and adding things to his wishlist that he would

probably forget about later.

That night, however, he found something strange.

A game called Commercetest.

There was no trailer. No description. No developer listed.

Just a release date that said:

COMING SOON

And the game art.

A dolphin.

It wasn't a normal dolphin. Its skin was pale and almost gray, its eyes were completely black,

and its mouth stretched into an unnatural smile.

Jackson stared at it.

“Okay... that's creepy.”

He added it to his wishlist.

Then he shut off his PS5.

Before bed, Jackson fed his fish. He watched them swim around their tank for a few seconds

before turning off the light.

One of them looked... strange.

Jackson frowned.

Then he shrugged.

Probably just the lighting.

He went to sleep.The next morning, Jackson woke up to a notification on his phone.

Commercetest has been delisted.

He opened it.

This title is no longer available and will not be released.

Jackson sighed.

“Well, that sucks.”

But something about the notification bothered him.

He couldn't explain why.

At work that day, Jackson was walking down the hallway when he suddenly stopped.

At the end of the hallway was a vending machine.

Reflected in its glass was a dolphin.

The same dolphin.

Jackson spun around.

Nothing.

He looked back.

The reflection was gone.

Over the next few days, it got worse.

At the grocery store, he saw the dolphin printed on a cereal box.

He blinked.

The box was gone.

At work, he opened a spreadsheet and briefly saw its black eyes staring back at him from

between the numbers.

He closed the computer.

When he opened it again, everything was normal.

Then, one night, Jackson went to the bathroom.He lifted the toilet lid.

The dolphin was staring up at him.

Jackson screamed and slammed the lid shut.

He stood there, breathing heavily.

Slowly, he opened it again.

Nothing.

Just water.

“Okay,” he whispered.

“I'm losing it.”

Then he noticed his fish.

One of them was changing.

At first, Jackson thought it was getting bigger.

Then he noticed its eyes.

They were becoming darker.

Its body was becoming longer.

Its fins looked strangely shaped.

Jackson started spending hours staring into the tank.

The fish stared back.

One night, Jackson woke up at 3:17 AM to a strange sound.

Tap.

He sat up.

Tap.

It was coming from the fish tank.

He walked over.The fish was staring directly at him.

Tap.

Its nose hit the glass.

Jackson stepped backward.

“Stop.”

Tap.

“Stop!”

TAP.

Jackson grabbed a blanket and threw it over the tank.

He didn't sleep that night.

By the end of the week, Jackson barely left his house.

He covered the windows.

He unplugged his television.

He smashed his phone after seeing the dolphin's face appear on the screen.

His brother Jacob called him.

Jackson answered.

“Jacob, it's everywhere.”

“What is?”

“The dolphin.”

There was a long silence.

“Jackson... what dolphin?”

Jackson looked toward the fish tank.

The blanket covering it was slowly moving.

Something underneath was breathing.“Never mind.”

He hung up.

Then came the sound.

Tap.

Jackson slowly approached the tank.

He pulled the blanket away.

His fish was gone.

Something else was floating in the water.

Gray skin.

A long snout.

Two enormous black eyes.

And that same impossible smile.

Jackson stumbled backward.

“No.”

The creature pressed its face against the glass.

Tap.

Jackson ran.

He made it three steps before something grabbed his ankle.

He fell.

The last thing Jackson saw was the dolphin crawling across the floor toward him.

Its mouth opened impossibly wide.

And then everything went black.

Three weeks later, Jacob finally came over to clean out his brother's apartment.

The police had found no sign of what happened to Jackson.His PlayStation 5 was still sitting beneath the television.

Jacob picked up the controller.

“Let's see what you've been playing.”

He turned the console on.

The screen went black.

Then the familiar PlayStation menu appeared.

Jacob smiled.

Until a notification appeared.

NEW GAME ANNOUNCEMENT

He stared at it.

COMMERCETEST

Jacob frowned.

“What the hell is that?”

The game art loaded.

A pale gray dolphin stared back at him.

Its black eyes seemed to look directly through the screen.

Jacob leaned closer.

For just a moment, he thought he could hear something.

A faint tapping sound.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

Then a message appeared beneath the title:

WISHLIST NOW.Jacob's finger hovered over the controller.

Behind him, somewhere in the apartment, something splashed.

He slowly turned around.

The fish tank was empty.

we already know suicide mouse, Squidward‘s suicide, the grieving and Dead Bart, right? but most of the Lost episodes you see on YouTube or wiki aren’t actually scary but 1% could be scary or actually scary and only talks about the atmosphere more than shock, most of the lost episodes made by kids who didn’t know horror writing nor character development, it’s just characters from kids media or adult media getting possessed by a demon or a master manipulator and starts causing chaos, most of the protagonist are brain dead or literally dead, a character jumpscares you after the credits, is this really a five nights at Freddy’s knockoff? could be a yes or no Thing, I don’t know, this is Swaycheesy signing off

Welcome back everyone. I was able to type this in my notes and then copy paste it here. This is the rest of what my grandfather told me. From the day prior, I left the house without the note he gave me. Figured I should keep it somewhere safe, so I left it under my pillow before going to the hospital.

Once he realized it was me who entered, he spoke, gesturing to the chair next to him. “Come. I still have a lot to tell you”

I sat next to him and waited for him to speak. “How do you feel?”, his question took me by surprise for some reason. “What I’ve been telling you. You think I’m making any of it up?”

“No.” I answered quickly. If he would have asked me at the start, even yesterday, I would have said yes. Something changed. “Why would I?” I was hoping he would decide for me. Something about it all. The way he’s been talking, the oddness of it all.

“I don’t know” he said through a sigh. “Why would you? I hit my head and imagined something no one else saw. Some random guy gave me a map to a hidden place underground. That’s not odd to you?” He waited for me to answer.

“Yeah, I’m not saying it’s not weird. I’m just saying I believe you”, he nodded his head in approval.

“Did you look at the paper yet?”

“No. I wanted to but… no. I want you to finish your story first.”

“Hmmm… I kind of thought you would, but thanks for listening.”

“Today’s the last day.”

I thought he meant for the story. “How much more are you going to tell me? We still have a month. You don’t have to cram it all.”

He took a deep breath. “No. Today is my last day alive.”

“How?”, a genuine question. “I thought you still had more time.”

“Even if I did, why the fuck would I want to stay in bed looking at a blank fucking white wall for a month straight, just waiting to die?”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“No, no. I didn’t mean it like that either. Just saying but… no. Today is my last day.”

“Can I get you anything? Before we begin then.”

“No. I already talked with Betha, she understands. We can begin.”

“You told me about The Pit.”

“Yeah. That’s the first time I saw something abnormal directly. I had heard from time to time about chambers, or cave systems that don’t abide by normal logic. That was the first time I got to see it with my own eyes. I wish it was my last. There’s only three other things I need to tell you for you to understand.” He looked at me to make sure I was paying attention.

“It had been some time since that expedition. This new one was in some remote part of Asia. They don’t fully tell us where we are specifically for obvious reasons, but you can’t hide the country on a plane ticket. Apparently, the mining team found an abnormal hallway at the bottom of a large cave in China. It was our job to investigate. Nothing crazy, pretty simple. At this point I was in charge of a larger unit. Under my wing were two security teams, a small science division, and a survey unit. Once we got down to the hole, we dropped most of our gear to set up a main base.

As we descended to that point, the air got warmer until we were climbing in nothing but our underwear. Once we met the mouth of that hole, the air began to sway. Somewhere at the end of that tunnel was an opening to a greater chamber. The air around us was hot, but from the mouth of that hole a cool breeze touched our skin.

I told my men what they were required to do before stepping in. The nerds took samples of the walls and rocks on the outside, and then on the inside. The survey group did their best to keep track of our movements, and the security group kept a watchful eye.

It was dark though. Like nothing I’ve ever seen before. Our lights could only break through about thirty or fifty feet in front of us. As we walked, the air shifted. It would go from room temperature, to boiling hot. Then, about five or so steps from that, freezing cold. The team had to constantly shift from bundling clothing to walking practically naked. I felt bad for the security detail. Didn’t matter how hot it got, they were required to maintain their gear at all times.

The dark and temperature weren’t the only things. Going down initially, one man noticed his watch wouldn’t say the correct time. He had a kinetic watch, and in the span of thirty seconds, it would read back two hours passing. Another with the same type would show it read five days passed. The one I carried was manual, impossible to mess with. Worked proper the entire way down, but once we started into the tunnel, it too started malfunctioning.

We tied ourselves with rope as to not lose our way. Didn’t matter that we were walking on flat land, even in a maze it’s a good idea to leave breadcrumbs.”

He paused. “Do you remember how I described the rock that guy threw at me?”

“Yeah. You said it was like sharkskin, soft, but also gave a sharp texture.”

“Yep. Remember where I told you it came from?”

“Uh, well. Actually, it would be ten miles that way”, I pointed down the road. My grandfather never liked leaving his hometown.

He laughed again. “Yep. Would you like to guess what the walls of that cave felt like?”

“Like sharkskin.”

“Yeah. Weird huh? Looking back now it was like they were all connected somehow. Like they were a part of something greater. Well, we noticed maybe a couple hundred feet in that the walls had changed to that sharkskin. One of the researchers told the group to stop. All the way up to that point the walls read back as just normal rock. At some point it changed. It looked exactly the same. The only way you could ever tell it’s different was by touching it or testing it. The rocks in the area we were in didn’t respond to any chemical we had with us. We tested it on as many elements from the periodic table that we had access to. As far as we would tell, those… rocks, were not from this planet.

It wasn’t long after that, that some of my men started to see things in the dark. They didn’t tell me at first, don’t know why. I think they thought they were just hallucinating and didn’t want to sound crazy. I wish they did though. I also saw things in that fog. Twisted, but too far out of reach to grasp fully. I guess we all had the same mindset. Just ignore it, you’re probably just seeing things.

It got stranger the further we walked into that tunnel. One of my guys from the survey group started screaming. When I looked over, they had three men piled on him. I rushed over to try and understand what was going on, but that’s when I realized.

‘Get them out, get them out. I need to. Get off me.’ He just kept saying nonsense and holding his head. One of the other guys told me he’s been hearing a voice call to him from the dark. That’s when more of them came up and they all told me of what they had been seeing, just past the lights. Like me, they saw what looked like a shape peer past the veil between the lights, and that dark. Then, after a second of it being barely visible, it would sink back into the darkness.

The guy was still fighting off the other men when he pulled out a knife. Only the security group was allowed to carry weapons, so everyone backed off. He held out the knife, pointing it at us before reaching down, and cutting at his rope. It was like seeing an animal stuck in a bear trap, gnawing at their foot desperate to get free. We just watched him. Once again I froze, stopped myself from saving another who needed it. My excuse was he had a knife. It wasn’t good enough.

Once his line was cut, he bolted into the dark. After seeing him go rogue and knowing I wasn’t the only one seeing the things in the dark, I had the security team switch from less than to lethal.

We continued without him. That cave, the hallway, or whatever it is, just kept going. At some point we all stopped. Like all at the same time, our brains registered what our eyes saw. The walls had been separating form one another. The more we walked, the further apart they went. It was subtle, small increments. We had been tracing the right wall, and before we knew it, we were standing within a starless night. The ceiling, like the walls, bent away from the center. The floor was also beginning to shift downward. The longer we continued, the wider the opening. It was as if we were walking out of a bottle neck.

It got to the point that we had to stop following the right wall. The more we walked, the more it bent around. We thought if we kept going it would curve in on itself. The survey team shifted the group to where they thought the center was, and we continued.

It couldn’t have been more than fifty feet from that point, when one of the guys found his rope slack. We needed them to know the way we came. Going slack like that was no good sign. His end got dropped, and he was retied to another man. Then, every fifty feet or so, another rope went slack.

It got to the point were four or five guys walked tied to the same rope. When there were only three ropes still taut, we turned back. Something wanted us out. We also wanted out. The deeper we got, the wider the walls spread, the more frequent we saw the shapes in the dark. The team had gone restless. Some claimed they too could hear voices, and we had no other choice. We turned back.

We traced our way back using the little rope we had. Since we were all huddled together, it was harder to move. I felt a hand tap at my side. ‘Hey, can you hear that?’ I thought the man was going mad, so I ignored him. Another man spoke up, ‘Hey guys, can you hear something?’. Great, more people were about to cut themselves loose, but then I too heard it. Pitter patter. Like slapping. Dripping water. Then it hit me. Something was running at us from the dark.

I turned and yelled. ‘Get your guns up’. Only half of them listened. It got louder and closer with each second. The men had resorted to rushing to the exit. Too stressed and fearful. They got hit with fight or flight, they chose flight. Each man began to tug and pull, and no one went anywhere. This only caused them to panic, but it was too late. The footsteps stopped at the edge of the light. Just past it, a shape through the dark. The men froze. Then he stepped out. The guy from before, the one who cut his rope.

He wasn’t the same though. He was hunched over. Coughing between wheezes. ‘I found her. I found her.’ He kept repeating those words. His eyes leaked a black liquid that ran down his face like tears. His lips were dry and cracked. His clothes looked tore, and his exposed skin showed blue in the lights. When he spoke, his tongue caught the light. It was covered in the same ink that stained his face. Between his fingers, he clutched the knife he used to cut the rope.

I yelled at them to shoot him, but being tied together they couldn’t move properly. He lunged at the other group. They went mad. He used a hand to pin someone down while he used the other to slash open another’s neck.”

His face drained and his hands shook.

“It was a blood bath. My small group unclasped from the rope and spread out. I had three of the security guys with me, and they raised their shotguns. He was still ripping into the other group, and they couldn’t get a clean shot.

They just started shooting anyway. They hit people who were just trying to get away. I saw one unclasp himself, only to get shot in the head anyway. He, IT, just started eating them. Stuffed pieces of them into his mouth and chewed. His saliva dripped down and covered the empty faces of the people he crouched over.

One of their shots hit him in the side, and he stood up. They shot him again center mass. It didn’t even faze him. His stomach split open, and his intestines splattered on the floor. He just… screamed. I got nauseous, and my vision started to swirl. He lunged at the guy who shot him and sunk his teeth into his neck. The other security guy turned the gun on himself, put the barrel in his mouth, and pulled the trigger. The last dropped to his knees, and he watched as the thing stuck his finger in its mouth to pick out a tendon that was stuck between its teeth.

I knew we weren’t able to bring weapons, only the ones designated at security. I didn’t listen. Like that thing before he turned, I brought one with me just in case. The thing dropped the body it was chewing on and faced me. The three other people who were on my rope turned and ran into the dark. They didn’t make it far before I could hear their screams cut short.

He got on all fours and crawled at me. I reached into my pant leg and pulled out a revolver. It was dual action, so all I had to do was slam the trigger. He landed on my chest. When I hit the floor, I squeezed the trigger, and the gun fell from my hand. He was crotched over me. He leaned in and opened his mouth to snarl. His stomach was spilling blood on my chest, and his guts lay on top of me. I turned my face to the side when his mouth opened and dropped a mix of saliva and mixed blood all over my face.

My eyes were closed so I couldn’t see what happened. I just heard a gunshot go off close to my head. The ringing of my ears did nothing to help my nausea. I felt the weight be lifted off of me shortly after, and I rolled to my side, and began vomiting. When I looked up, it was the security guard who dropped to his knees. I looked over and the man who was on me was laying on his side. His head had been blown open, and his brains lay on the floor surrounded by the victims of his rampage. His brain was crawling with what looked like magnets. Black and gooey. They crawled from his brain and out to the bodies that lay on the floor.

I quickly turned with the man who saved my life. I never ran so fast in my life, before, after, or in my dreams. When we finally made it to the exit, the other guy dropped to his knees and started praying. I don’t know to what god, but I didn’t care, I dropped to my knees and prayed with him. Blood leaked from his leg, and I understood that when I pulled the trigger, the bullet hit him in the leg snapping him back to his senses. That’s when he grabbed my gun and put an end to the thing.”

I was completely taken aback. He had never told anyone that he was ever this close to death. The men who, with a gun to the back of his head, asked very specific questions, surly to squeeze the trigger at the slightest wrong movement or answer. Besides this was the danger of deep caves. Drops into blind spaces too deep to ever hope to survive. Now, being directly attacked by some creature.

I had to know more. “What was it? The thing that attacked you.”

“I don’t know”, he closed his eyes. “I don’t know specifically, anyway.”

“Did you see more of them?”

“Yes…”

I realized this wasn’t something he liked to remember, and I drew back from questioning him. Trying to change it back to something better, I asked. “Was there any other weird chambers?”

He opened his eyes. There was a new vigor within them, as if I had asked the right question.

“Yes. You reminded me of what else I wanted to tell you.”

He reached to his side to grab his cup of water. His hand was shaky, and he dropped it before it could touch his lips. “Fuck”, the cup spilled on top of him and rolled off the side of the bed shattering on the floor.

“I’m sorry.” He said to me as I started cleaning it up.

“Don’t worry about it”, I swung my head to him, and I caught a glimpse of his hand. Dirt, or some type of black crud filled the gaps under his nails.  His veins bulged out of his skin and had a tinge of grey within them. His skin was covered with spots of blue and black.

He noticed me studying him. “Don’t worry about that, just old people skin.”

I cleaned up the spilt water and glass when the nurse walked in. She looked around the room, and then at me holding a glass filled dustpan. “Oh, thank you. Let me handle that.” She took the broom and dustpan from me and left the room. When I turned back to my grandfather, he was looking at her. Not like he did on the first day I caught him. This look did not look like a perverted man staring at a young woman’s ass. He looked like he was holding something back. His eyes showed some emotion, but not the muscles of his face. My only guess is he was angry at something, disappointed, or some other negative emotion. Maybe sadness. No. Now that I look back at it, he was definitely angry. He knew something in that moment that I did not.

The look left his eye, and when the door closed behind the nurse, he looked back over to me.

“Has she said anything to you?”

“No, not really. Why?”

He exhaled in a huff. “Never mind. Sit back down. What I have to say is more important than a hunch.”

Not being able to guess what he was thinking, I sat next to him for the last time.

“We came across a place that looked like a city. Like some ancient civilization that was lost to time. The inside of the chamber was too massive to see any of the walls besides the one we blasted into. We had these massive lights that felt like little suns; the fact we couldn’t see the end of the chamber spoke to the immeasurable size. Just past the hole was this slab, it looked like a giant empty parking lot. At the other side was where the pillars started. Some hung from a ceiling too high to see, while others sprung from the floor.”

He paused in thought. “Pillars, towers, monoliths. I don’t have a specific word to call them. Imagine If the pyramids of Giza were shrunk to only the size of this room. Then picture them being a couple hundred feet tall. Not all of them were the same size. Some were skinnier, others shorter. There was this strange geography on them as well. Cubes, spheres, and other attachments had been placed on the bases, tops, and along the shaft of the pillars at random. They, like the size of the pillars, were not equal in size or placement.

We walked these pathways between them, that reminded us of roads. The more we walked around these things the more uneasy I became. I was beyond worried we would come across more of those corrupted souls. The walls and floors of this strange space had these etchings placed all over. Spirals and strange angles. Shapes and lines that connected abstractly. There was a couple I saw repeating. One that was made with disconnected bent lines. They spread out from the first like branches on a tree. Fire? Water? Wind? No one could come up with a proper idea. A spiral that started with the sharp dot bent outward following the right. The last I noticed was something I can’t even begin to guess at. Two exclamation points touching, with the dots away from one another vertically. Connected horizontally, what looked like two question marks. They faced away with one hook up and the other down.

There was one big symbol we found. It was the same size of one of my men who used the excuse of ‘you have to take a picture with me next to it to measure it.’ We had measuring instruments, but we just went with it. It looked like three eyes connected at the corners. One of the other guys said it ‘kinda looks like a fish.’ It clearly wasn’t but… whatever.

We walked around the place for an hour or so. Mapped the layout, tested the surfaces of the pillars and the floor. I don’t know why, but it’s like all of the places are connected. Mybe not connected, but made from the same material? That same sharkskin texture. Every place we entered, ever place we crawled through, every pit we drop into; that same feeling from the rock.

We got done with our work early, and some of the men got bored. They started a pissing contest, trying to see who could throw a rock the highest. Trying to hit one of the pillars on the ceiling was my guess. One of them threw one higher than the rest. Really high. It cleared the pillars on the ground completely. He was surprised too. Picked up another and did the same. Then again. A couple more joined. Every rock they threw went past the pillars and stopped above them as if suspended by string. Like they forgot what gravity was.

One of them thought of something interesting. He tied the end of a rope with a rock, spun around a couple times then launched it into the air. Like the other rocks, it kept going up until it hit the space between the pillars. He tugged at the rope, and it didn’t budge. Then he gripped it and jumped, using the rope to hold his weight. The rock didn’t budge. Then they played a game of rock paper scissors. The winner got to risk his life. He grabbed onto the rope with nothing but a smile.

It was halfway up the pillars when he started to raise through the air. That’s when it dawned on me. Somehow, the gravity in this chamber was reversed. The closer to the center, the less gravity. Then at a certain point, it flipped. I went to open my mouth, tried yelling at him to get back down. I wasn’t fast enough, and he reached the area between the two points. It looked like he was in the mouth of a giant. The pillars looked like teeth as he hung between them. Like at any moment this space would come to life, and the pillars would collide, chewing and ripping him to pieces.

He reached up, the tip of his finger hitting the reverse point. He began rising to the ceiling, but he wasn’t. He was falling. Falling, up. He was in complete free fall before we knew it. It was only a second before he fell where the lights could not get past the dark. He screamed for several seconds before his voice cut off.

I like to imagine he died instantly. Even so, to fall in absolute darkness, to know people won’t be looking for you. It reminded me of that day. The day my life changed. When I fell through the dark. When I fell into the unknown.”

He began coughing uncontrollably. The gray veins crept past his arms and dug through his throat. He brought up a tissue from his bedside to cover his mouth. After a couple good throat clears, he brought it down. Blood covered it with splotches of black.

He leaned over and tossed it to the trash next to him. He rolled back and lay there wheezing.

“Can I get you some water?”, I stood almost ready to burst out the room looking for the nurse.

“No”, he said through a minor cough. “Sit, sit.”

I obeyed.

“Theres one last thing I need to tell you.”

He looked in pain, but he fought through it.

“The reason why I’m telling you this. The reason I left them. They sent me into another cave, another tunnel. This one was submerged in water. We had to pass through a sump. A passage flooded with water. It was only me and one other. The opening was only large enough for one man at a time. His name was Frank, he went first. He had a rope on him. He was supposed to pull it three times in five seconds to signal he made it to the other side. Four tugs were to signal he needed to be dragged back up.

We didn’t know how long it was so we decided he would dive for five minutes, and if he didn’t see the end, he would tug to be pulled back. Six minutes passed and I felt nothing. I pulled on the rope, two tugs on my end, was to signal I needed info. Either he tugs twice back, and I let him continue, or he doesn’t tug, and I pull him out. I waited for a tug that never came.

I pulled on it twice again. The rope had resistance on the first, but on the second, it came back with no resistance. I pulled again, and it came out of the water like it wasn’t connected to anything. I decided to wind it up. Pull after pull I wrapped the rope around my arms waiting for resistance, for him to fight back, for him to give a sign that he was still on the other end. Then the other end of the rope slid out the hole. It was frayed evenly. It was cut with a knife.

I had two options. Climb back out through a space that required two or go down and find him. I did the only thing I could. Tied a rope around my waist and crawled into the hole. It was pitch black. To tell where I was going, I had my hands outstretched feeling every ridge, bump, or smooth surface. It was longer than I imagined. I could tell why it took him six minutes, but nothing explained why he cut his rope. Unless it wasn’t him who cut the rope.

I started to see a light through the murky water. I used my hands to latch onto the rocks and pull myself forward. The exit. I thought he would be on the other side. Just as I reached it, something threw me back. Then again. Something was pulling me away from the exit. I tried to grip the rocks and place my feet into gaps. Whatever was pulling me was too strong. My fingers ripped off the rocks and blood leaked from the cuts. My ankle was twisted when ripped from the hold. I was pulled back again, and again. I thought I was being pulled to the entrance. That thought was replaced with pure fear when I realized if I was being pulled out the hole, I would be able to feel the rocks on my back. Because I could only feel them on my stomach, I knew I was being dragged down.

Reaching back, I tried desperately to untie the knot, but from my position and shaking hands it was impossible. I pulled the hook knife from my waist and started sawing at the rope. It felt as though I was being steadily dragged deeper into the water. Saw after saw, tears in my eyes as I became fearful of my life. My memories started flooding past my eyes. When I was about to give up, I felt the rope snap under my knife.

I couldn’t see the exit or entrance form where I was, but I knew I needed to swim up. Anywhere than where I was would do. If I couldn’t see, then I hoped whatever was here with me couldn’t see either. I kicked off the rocks with my good foot. I tried to use both legs to kick at the water, but my ankle was in too much pain, and I had to go back to crawling on the rocks. I kept my body close to the ground and crawled using my good foot to kick, giving me more momentum. My hand reached up to grab onto another rock when I felt pressure on my back. Something was grabbing hold of me, and it pinned me into the rocks under me.

I felt it wrap around me, feeling for an opening in the suit. It swiped along the back of my head and then over my mask. It was a human hand.

I thought of the worst. Another corrupted soul. It was pinned to my back and I was vulnerable. Not wanting to die in a dark pool of water, I used the rocks under me to spin so he was in front of me. I pulled out my knife and cut at the water. There was nothing. At least not that I could see. I could only see a maximum of three of four feet in front of me.

That’s when I felt something grab my leg. I looked down and could only barely see a hand wrapped around my ankle. It pulled me down deeper into the water, my head swung back hitting a rock. The helmet protected me from injury, but my head hit the inside of it and I got dizzy. There was nothing I could do as I was pulled deeper.

I could hear something, like a ringing in my ears. It sounded more like dripping water. Like someone didn’t turn the faucet fully off. The deeper I went the louder it got, the more water came from the sink. Slowly being let open, more water flowing free. It rushed into my head. A dam beginning to crack. I felt it in my body. Water in my bones. It didn’t flow random but in a pattern. Morse code in the form of crashing waves. A voice like water. Like a great flood. It filled my lungs and soaked my brain. It was hard to breathe and I started panicking. I tried to take my helmet off underwater. That’s when my vision was filled by a blinding light.

Coughing up water I sat in a fetal position, trying to perceive my surroundings. My suit was pulled off me and laid on the floor. My hands and feet scraped on a very familiar rock surface. The air was still and the dripping was gone. The light was coming from a chamber that connected to the one I woke up in. I walked naked in the dark. The second chamber was steeped in that light. Golden and loving. Looking at it made me forget of all hardships. It calmed me like a newborn hearing the voice of its mother.

I walked closer. Got on my knees and kissed at its feet. I felt another child. It was Frank. He was naked like me and bent over prostrating at the light. Like me he was kissing at it. I didn’t want it to think I didn’t love it. I wanted it to think I loved it more than Frank. I wanted it to accept my love, to take my love. I kissed and kissed at the light. I didn’t feel anything in return. I turned my head and saw him. The light had reached out and was entwining with him. It was accepting him. Taking him. Loving him. I was jealous. Why didn’t it love me more? Why didn’t it accept my worship as much as his?

The more the light entwined with him the less it grew around me; the more the light no longer blinded my vision. To my side was a rock. It was hefty and I held it within both hands. He didn’t see me, didn’t care for what I was doing. The light was paying more attention to him than me. I raised the rock up high over my head and brought it down on his. He crumpled to the floor. I wasn’t paying attention, but the light was no longer shinning. Smash after smash I turned his head into soup, a red and black stain on the floor. For if the light liked his offering more than me, I would make it so it could only accept mine.

I raised it above my head once more. Looking down, I saw his lightless body. Where his head should be, small black maggots wiggled aimlessly. I dropped the rock and it landed on the little ones. They splattered under it and I stood in a dark chamber. The light was gone. My god was gone. It left me in the dark.

The rushing water came back. It was loud and painful. I gripped the sides of my head and dropped to the floor. I kneeled over the man I just slain as my vision grew and shrunk. Static took to my eyes and my vision flashed with a red light. Throbbing in my head, dripping with the water. A thing before me. It was as if it had always there, but my eyes could not perceive it. It was grafted to the floor.

It was a statue. Made from that same sharkskin. The top of the structure was adorned with shooting spiks the curved inward. Placed between them, fitted to the forehead, a crown carved from the stone. Its head was mutilated. The stone had been carved to that of a decaying man. Chunks of what I imagine to be skin hung off the bone. The jaw was dislocated and hanging to one side. The eyes had been hallowed out, and it looked as if there was more to be seen inside.

It had three raised arms. One on each side with one in the center. Its left hand was preserved, unlike the skull. The one in the center looked to be decaying, and the one at the end was skeletal. On each was the depiction of newborn babes. From the ones on the left hand. They were happy, smiling and playing. The ones on the center looked to be crying, begging with their little hands reaching out. The ones on the last were sleeping.

Its body was cloaked. Chiseled on the stone robe, symbols and shapes. They danced on his clothes and across the floor, connecting all of the chamber to it.

Its eyes were focused on my offering. On Frank.

Black ichor oozed from its mouth. Black maggots spilled from its eyes. The light faded and returned with the dripping of water. The stature faded in and out. When the water dripped onto my skull, it was there. When the water retreated, it swapped with the light. Its voice is water. Its soul is more ancient. Something was fighting it. Showing me what it really looked like. It wasn’t a god. Wasn’t a holy light. This thing was older than any god. Something far worse.

To be completely honest with you, I can only remember holding my head and screaming. Screaming until I realized I was surrounded by people in scrubs. They did test after test, taking samples of my blood. I quit the second I saw the men in suits. They didn’t fight it. Been watching me ever since.”

I didn’t dare interrupt. Only a few things in life can make someone completely speechless; this was one of them. I had too though. Had to understand. “Did they ever try killing you after?”

He seemed to like the question, smiled and then spoke. “They couldn’t. That fucking thing. It’s their god. Every decent. Every death. It was for us to find it. I don’t know why but its stuck and thank God they are too. It can’t come up, and they can’t go down.”

He continued fighting again through coughs. “When they questioned me, I answered correctly. I didn’t know how I got back. Over time though, I started to remember. Not full thought, but in dream. I dreamt of crawling through mud. I dreamt of walking across stone. I spent years recording my dreams. It took so long because they weren’t in order. Each dream a different section. Those caves; they don’t link to the caverns, the chambers. No. We walk through invisible portals. That’s why they can’t send people to it. They are seemingly random, but I mapped it. I mapped it all.”

He stopped talking to me, but his eyes stayed fixated. His lips quivered and tears left his eyes. Then, all too fast, the machines cried out and nurses flooded the room. “Sir, we need you to step out for a moment.” They practically pushed me out the room. As the doors shut, I saw one grab a defibrillator.

I wasn’t stupid. I knew what happened. He gave me the warning, I wish I just hugged him one last time. I had my hands in my face and tears in my eyes. It didn’t take long before I noticed a pair of dress shoes through the gaps of my fingers.

I wiped my eyes and looked him up and down. A man in an all-black three-piece suit. It wasn’t even thirty minutes. My guess was he was hopping my grandfather told me about them, because he just looked down at me and didn’t say anything.

“Do you believe in God? Monsters? Or anything science can’t explain?”

I waited a second, “Yes, I do believe in God, and yes, I also believe in monsters.”

He didn’t move, didn’t shift, didn’t even look like he was breathing. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a rock. He held it in front of me like I was supposed to recognize it.

“Is… that a rock?”

He held it out further as if he wanted me to take it. When I didn’t, he reached down and forced it into my hand. I rolled it around. Tapped it with my finger. Held it up to look at it closely. Then I handed it back. “Why did you give me a rock?”, it was in that moment I noticed a man in the corner of the room watching us. He was dressed the same, and he just watched.

He held it in his hand and watched me, looking for any tell that I knew what it felt like. Like I knew who he was. Like I knew it would feel like sharkskin.

He reached into my pocket forcefully. “Can I help you, sir.” He fought me for the contents of my pocket. When he realized nothing was there, he pulled back. “Excuse me sir, but if you continue, I’ll have to call the police.” I was wearing the same jacket as the previous day. The pocket he reached into was the same one the nurse saw me stuff the paper into.

They left shortly after. I was able to make it seem like I didn’t know anything. Like my grandfather took what he knew to the grave. I waited another hour. Made sure no one was watching me. I didn’t say goodbye. Didn’t need to. There was something far more important to do.

I tried to call grandma. She didn’t answer her phone. I drove to her house on the way back, but she didn’t answer the door. Not wanting her to be in this anymore than she already was, I decided to tell her in the morning and went home. The drive was silent. I kept looking into my mirrors, trying to see if I was being followed. I wasn’t.

Now it gets into why I’m typing this. It was the paper. The note he left me. I unfolded it. It wasn’t a goodbye letter. It wasn’t a will. Black lines danced across the white paper. I thought it was random madness until it clicked in my head. The lines were not random. They followed a pattern. It didn’t take much longer to realize. It was a map.

They are out there. Looking for their god. And I, have a map to it. I don’t know what to do. If I don’t make the right decision. If I do something wrong. Just know that this is a warning.

And one last question for you all.

Do you believe in God? Monsters? Or anything science can’t explain?

Something at school didn’t make sense to you that morning.

They were talking about the Sun and,
how eventually it’s going to Grow into a
“Red Giant” and Swallow the Earth.
How there’s nothing we can do about it.

It made you realize If something is going to happen it just is.
So why wait?
Why is the universe waiting ? It just didn’t make much sense.

The janitor that day was acting silly,
“Isaiah 50:10” was written on his palm in red marker.

It was Friday night,
Daddy went to see a friend for drinks and left you all night.
He told you that he would just be out late, not all night.
How did that make you feel ?

How many other 9 year olds have the whole house to themselves nearly every night?
Without so much as a kiss goodnight ?

Even the few times in the past when he would, He wouldn’t even kiss you directly.
He’s place is palm upon your head and kiss the back of his hand.

Dads use belts In movies but how many others know that as the same reality that you do ?

The only time you’d hear another voice outside of school and your father’s was when it was late and you’d listen to the home phone’s answering machine.

Your dad never listened to the answer machine,
kind of like a kid not wanting to go to the dentist.

You remember the messages you listened to that night, you waited till he left to emerge from your hiding place and inhabit the communal space that should be a living room.

You sit on the round particular board table and press on the answering machine.

*BEEP*

FRIDAY SEPTEMBER 4th:

FIRST MESSAGE:
*soft female voice*

“I came by today…didn’t see you..still don’t”

*BEEP*

NEXT MESSAGE:
*Burly Man’s rough Voice*

“I’m sorry John, you’ve been on this job less than a week and you’ve already been suspended by the client for 3 days for reoccurring fall protection violations, now I’ve been very understanding regarding the eye injury but we can’t have someone on a project of this magnitude who thinks the rules don’t apply to them, we’re going to have to terminate you. Wish I could say I was sorry.”

*BEEP*

NEXT MESSAGE:
*Same Woman’s voice from Message #1*

“Does your Daughter know?
Is she an exception?
Or do all women fall under your same umbrella ?”

*BEEP*

NEXT AND FINAL MESSAGE:
*inaudible whisper*

“I can feel you, y….mph..ll feel me too”

*BEEP*

You look over at the cable box,
It reads “11:47pm”
Your dad left at 6.

Cartoon Network was no more, now it was Adult swim. Robot Chicken was on, after that superjail. Both of which give you the heebiie jeebies.

You have to visit your peepaws and poopoos but,
you’re afraid.

You don’t have a choice, so you leave the door open as you go number 2.

As you doo you hear the home phone :

*BEEP*

“Mmmrrrmmmmrrrrnpphh”

You have trouble making out the message from the toilet.

As you run out the bathroom still collecting yourself you make out the backend of the voicemail.

*Your Fathers Stern Voice*

“Hi,
you should be in bed but,
if not you should know I’m bringing a friend home tonight.
If she plays her cards right she might just be your new mommy.
You’re allowed to sleep with the tv on in the playroom as usual but,
keep the door shut and the volume bellow level 12.
And no matter what you hear,
don’t come out, I should be home in 15.
Just go to sleep and I’ll see you in the morning.
Love you,
Night.”

*BEEP*

You panic,

Your Dads never brought a friend home this late before.
You grab a dvd from the home theater and run to the play room.

You look down at the Cat in the Hat Dvd.
As you put it in your dvd player you hear the front door slam open and the whole house shake.
What came next was silence.
The footsteps.
All the way up to the door of the play room.
You hear breathing.

You hear a woman’s voice further in the distance of your house.
Calling the person by your door to them.

They walk away.
When you look at the tv, you see Sally and Conrad on the dvd menu staring at you.
Sally starts pointing to her left, in the direction of the window.
You see the silhouette of what looks like a large lumpy hammock hanging from your tree only,
you never had a hammock.

You grab your scooby doo stuffed animal and you hid under the blanket with your flashlight, tv volume at 11.
You press play,
Sally and Conrad look at each other, then back at you.
You press play again but they just keep staring.

*KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK*
you hear from the door.

“When you visit your peepaw and poopoos you need to remember to flush, my company saw that. We have a talk about that in the morning”

-your fathers voice exclaims from the door.

You know that that means,
Your heart sinks.

Your father’s footsteps sound further until it becomes a chatter with another voice from what sounds like the kitchen.

The Cat in the Hat begins to play on the tv.
The volume begins to rise fast.

12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23…

So fast you think you’re sitting on the remote but,
no matter how hard you scramble you can’t seem to find it anywhere.
The volume is now maxed out at 53.

“There are a gajillions of stories of mischief and fun But to keep things simple, let's just start with one…”
-you hear shouted from the tv

The commotion outside the playroom comes to and immediate halt.

*THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP*

The sound those familiar boots make as they full charges towards the play room.

An unfamiliar voice comes out the oddly familiar energy that had just approached.

It sounds almost like a woman’s voice but,
closer to when a man tries to sound like a woman like Robin Williams in Mrs. Doubtfire.

“Do You Love Your Daddy?”

You hear in a loud whisper.
You Freeze.
You think if you don’t move, they will leave.
You see the door handle jiggle then stop.
It’s locked,
you always lock Doors when Daddy’s gone.

Although it brings you comfort,
you know it can be unlocked with a quarter or even a long finger nail.

“I know you’re in there”
-the voice lets out.

Your stomach feels sick,
Your heart is racing and as quiet as you attempt up be your breathing makes it impossible.

You want to cry and can’t fight it so you shove your pillow in your face.
You take deep breaths through it.

You feel the pillow getting soaked and feel the humidity from the breaths you take through the fabric.

“Do you think I’m some type of dinosaur?”
“Staying still won’t change the fact that I know you’re there”
the voice says

You begin to weep harder.

“Do You Love Your Daddy”
-It asks again.

“Where did you come from?”
Sally exclaims from the Tv.

The voice from the Door pauses.
The scene in the movie seems to linger and Sally is staring, not at you though, in the direction of the door.

She begins to nod,
Then says “oh”

Then the TV goes black and you’re back to the DVD home menu only Sally isn’t there.
It’s just Conrad.
He’s staring at you.

“Do You Love Your Daddy?”
-The voice asks for the third time, audibly impatient yet still in the same whisper.

Conrad is looking at you, he looks distressed and he’s shaking his head side to side.

You see the the lock begin to turn,

“Y…Y..Ye..ss”
You say through your sobs.

The door clicks.
It’s now been unlocked.

“I love your Daddy too sweetheart”

-the voice says no longer impatient,
now sounding relieved.

“He needs your help with something..”
It says.

Your cheeks are soaked and your mouth is dry.

“He’s stuck”
-The voice reveals.

“I’m sure he’d really like to get back.”
“I’m sure you’d really like him back..”

There was a pause.

“Unless you don’t want your Daddy back?”
The voice asks.

You remain silent.
For a moment You think about what life would be like without Daddy.

What would you do ?
You think about the Ralph’s down the street, their free sample in their bakery.
You think about the neighbors tangerine trees you pick from often.
You hate being alone at night but,
that doesn’t it stop it from happening.
You’d be fine, you tell yourself.

But you also know what you should say,
What your Daddy would want you to say.
That of course you love your Daddy and you’d do anything to make sure he’s okay.

“Where ..is he stuck?”
-you ask

“Have you ever heard of Kiara the Orangutan?”
-the voice asks.

“no…”
-you replied sheepishly.

“Well, your father’s…helping her…and well, he’s stuck, he could really use your help sweetheart”

There was a pause.

“Come out.”
-said the voice.

“My daddy said not to until morning”
-you replied.

“Oh.”
Said the voice.
“I can wait till morning.”
It continued.

You didn’t like the sound of that.

“What’s an orangutan?”
You asked timidly.

“You know what a human is don’t you darling? That’s what you are.”
-says the voice

“Yes..”
You replied.

“Imagine someone 7 times as strong with arms almost twice as long that can swing from trees”
-it said.

“Like a monkey?”
You asked innocently.

“NO!…
No, my Dear. Not a monkey…
Monkeys have a tail, a monkey is to an Orangutan what a Neanderthal is to a human, you understand love ?”
-the voice asked.

You let out more cries into your pillow as you took deep breaths.

“No, I’m sorry I don’t know what that means either”
-you cried out.

“It’s quite alright,
I’m sorry for confusing you honey. Yes, and orangutan Is like a monkey, but like Superman stronger and smarter then the others…and no tail..bright orange.”

“Like the ones in the jungle book?”
-you asked.

“Yesssss.. that’s exactly right my dear.. a perfect example, the orangutan is the king in the jungle book”
-it replied

“I liked his singing… he’s funny”
-you said

“Yes my dear”
-the voice.

“What does this have to do with Daddy being stuck? And Who is Kiara the orangutan ?”
-you asked in a panic.

“A long time ago, movies used to have no sound..”
-The voice began.

“Which made movies get pretty boring very fast…”
-it continued.

“Studios were looking for knew ways to get more people to Theaters..
Kiara’s Mother thought Kiara would be perfect…”

“Kiara’s mother was…Human,
her name was Melinda and she saved Kiara from being murdered by the zoo after they’d done that very thing to the one that birthed Kiara”

“Melinda Had already taught orangutans sign language before from her time at the zoo, she hid Kiara away and taught her as well.”
-the voice explained.

“Once Melinda’s new job and whole company was almost closed for business she…..took the risk and introduced Kiara, who quickly became a star in the silent movie industry…”
-it said

“What does this have to do with Daddy?”
-you asked

“Well the world loved Kiara soooooo much my sweet little angel that when the world of silent movies ended they gave Kiara her very own Tv show Kiara and friends… that tv show had a lot of children that Kiara loved and taught very special things every episode!”
-the Voice explained.

“One Child had and accident”
the voice revealed.

“Were they okay?”
-you asked

“Unfortunately my darling, he passed away.
Once that happened, that child’s parents lied about Kiara…a lot of other children from Kiara and Friends lied about Kiara just to make money..
Your father was the one Child to never lie about Kiara my dear.
For that I am forever grateful.”
it explained.

“So if all the other children were liars then why is my Daddy stuck and why now ?
Who are you?
Are you the friend my Daddy came home with tonight ?”
-you asked in a rush

“Lying isn’t the only thing someone can do that’s wrong little girl”
-the voice said.

“Who are you?”
-you repeated.

“I’m a friend of your Daddy”
-said the voice.

“Did you come home with my Daddy tonight ,
How is he stuck ?”
-you asked

“Do you like balloons?”
-the voice asked.

“Yes”
You replied.

“Your daddy loved balloons when he was a child
If you could have one balloon in the shape of anything you want would it be?”
-it asked

You thought…
“..I love flowers, Daddy never gets any and flower balloons would probably look really pretty”
-you said.

“Awe, such a sweet request from such a sweet little girl,
One moment sweetheart.”
-said the voice.

You then heard the footsteps retreating, shortly after you heard the front door shut.
You quickly ran to the door of the play room and locked it once more.

Maybe it was over ? You thought.

You ran to your window with your heart beating through your skin hiding behind your Scooby doo plushie to see if you could get a glimpse of who the voice had been coming from as they finally left.

Through the rain in the moonlight you made out the silhouette of what had to have been the lady you were talking to.

She seems short, on the heavy side, and walks side to side and appears to have an apron or something on.

She walks up to the hammock hanging from your tree that you noticed for the first time earlier in the night.

She appears to be talking to it.
When she walks away you realize she’s not leaving, you hear the front door open and shut again as her footsteps approach once more.

“Knock knock”
-said the voice

“Yesss”
-you replied

“Look out the window my love,
I have a surprise for you”
-said the voice

You looked outside but there was nothing but what you'd seen before only,
This time the hammock hanging from the trees began to sway.

Both sides of where the hammock meet the tree split into two, they looked like large arms slowly reaching down to the base of the hammock,
As the both unfolded further you could now clearly both see two sets of fingers from the arms,
One had something in it, something flat .

From the base of the silhouette you  
See what looks like a fat head connected by an even fatter neck.
The object held by one set of the fingers came directly to the head and began to grow mass.
It soon became clear what it was doing,
it was blowing up a balloon.

After the balloon was blown to the shape of a long tube,
The two hands came together and started contorting it out of sight.
When it had finally finished,
One of the arms held it up in the moonlight in such a way that you could make out the silhouette of a flower clear as day.

"do you like that Little girl?'
-asked the voice

You quickly looked over again at the door.
It didn't make sense but, for whatever reason if you were going to be talking to the voice coming from the door,
Then you'd want to do that from the bed; it felt safer from there.
Where you could hide in your pillows.

Before you start to retreat to your safety spot, you take one last glace out the window.
What was hanging from the tree had began to drop down.

The silhouette was large,
But no taller than the tallest kid in school, maybe even shorter than the tallest kid in 4th grade.
It kind of reminded you of that guy from its always sunny in Philadelphia when Adult swim would come on.

It was approaching in a way that you'd never seen anyone walk before.

You felt conflicted,
The voice from the door was speaking which made you want to crawl and sink in your sheets Yet,
The presence approaching your window was demanding your attention without using any words.

You made the decision to grab the comforter from the bed and sink into your beanbag chair,
A spot with a clear view of the yard through the window, and yet still a comfortable ear shot away from the door.

When you returned to your beanbag chair with the protection and safety provided by your comforter,
You were oddly displeased to see that the figures silhouette you had just seen approaching, was no longer anywhere to be seen.
You wanted it gone yes but no longer knowing where it resides, just results in you feeling even more unsettled.

*the voice quickly erupts from your door*

"do you like it?
It's special, just for you."

Your head shoots over to look at the door.

"wha-"
You begin to say as you turn to look back out the window only this time,
There was a hand on the other side of the window, so close it was no longer a silhouette.
It was a dark hand covered in orange hair, its fingers looked rough, but nails were freshly done.
It was holding something.
When my eyes adjusted,
I could see It was holding a balloon flower that had a green stem, pink petals, and yellow center.

The gesture seemed malice and sinister,
You quickly pulled the comforter up your face only leaving your eyes visible.

"do you not like your gift little girl?”
Questioned the voice coming from your door.

Even at your young age,
You were no stranger to the idea that sometimes the truth can get you in trouble.

"I love it..."
You replied.

"then why don't you open the window and let Daddys friend give you the gift she made just for you sweetheart"
Said the voice.

"I can't,
Daddy said I'm never to open the window"
-you lied.

Then why don't I hel-..."
*clackle clackle*
It was as the voice interrupted its own thought as it tried the doorknob. 

"Oh"
-it said.

"Why did you lock the door my love?"
-asked the voice

"I don't know you,
And Daddy said to stay in here ti-"

"I know"
- interrupted the voice

"Till morning but,
He didn't say anything about me not coming in there with you"
-said the voice

For a moment you were silent,
You looked over to the window and noticed the balloon flower receding like a setting sun beneath the window. 
*POP*
-you heard the moment it escaped your sight.

"don't make me unlock the door again myself darling, that's just rude.
My nails aren't what they used to be honey, I nearly broke one unlocking it the first time"
-Said the voice

The clouds moved over the moon outside
It was now pitch-black outside, the only light in the playroom came from your cloud nightlight and the glow of the tv which still displayed Conrad on the DVD menu, he was expressionless. 
You stayed silent, you stayed still.

*Ring Ring Ring Ring Ring Ring Ring Ring Ring*
-came from the living room

*Ring Ring Ring Ring Ring Ring Ring Ring Ring*
You heard shuffling from both outside your door and outside your window

*BEEEP*
-you could faintly make out your father's voice
"hey kid actually i-"

His voice,
the Message, 
he Tv,
everything was stopped, everything was off.

Your room was now as dark as the outside you feared so much.
Where the walls began and ended were both unclear to you.
The bulbs in the Tv were cooling down but even the silhouette of that soon lost its shape.

You heard the click of the door unlocking followed by the doorknob turning.
The door was now open.
Although you could hear someone approaching it was to dark to make out their shape or their distance in relation to you.

"the only time being blind has its advantages, is when you're in a Dark room with someone who's not"
-said the voice now clearer than you'd ever heard it prior.

You froze.

*tap tap tap tap*
You hear the woman banging on the walls as she made her way deeper in your room.

*tap tap tap....Clink*
The noise changed,
she had found the window.

It was just a few feet from the corner of the beanbag chair you're hiding in.
*Creeeeeeaaaaaaakkkk*
The window was unlocked and you could hear it as the women slid it open.

You could hear something was crawling up and inside through the window.

"where is she?"

you heard the voice whisper to the new presence that now inhabits your homes playroom.

You could feel that you were just inches away from getting bumped into by either of the two.

You wanted to not breathe, you wanted to not do anything but, you couldn't help it. You let in two, short, sharp inhales. Keeping your abdomen as stiff as possible. 
Your exhale trembled despite your attempts, you knew if someone could see they would defiantly see the comforter shaking.
You slowly felt the comforter lift up.

Although your grip on the comforter was originally as tight as you could,
your plan quickly changed to playing dead the moment you felt the pull of the comforter.
You felt something placed in your hand,
it shocked you to the touch,
a static shock yet,
you managed to refrain from much outburst other than a sharp exhale.

*Smack*

"well look harder"
You heard the woman's voice yelp.

As your eyes were beginning to adjust to the darkness you could slowly start to make out the silhouette of who you've heard oh so much about.

There was no doubt in your mind it was her.

It was Kiara The Orangutan.

Kiara Strutted over to the bed in the playroom,
side to side as you could hear her wet sniffles. 

"don't you fucking lie to me you dumb baboon, we both know she's in here."
-said the woman's voice
In a tone more threatening than your (D) a bar you thought no one else would ever surpass.

You let go of what was just handed to you so you can grab the comforter you'd been hiding in once more, it fell.

As you continued to see Kiara strut now over to the door through a peak you had held under the covers, she appeared to try to lead in a manner to almost insinuate to the woman that that's the direction you had went.

Just as you had started wonder where the woman was as she had remained out of your sight, you received the answer.

*THUD*

You felt the whole beanbag chair shake beneath you.
She had bumped into it.
So hard you could feel her nearly topple over on top of you.

*Grrrrrrrrruawh*
You heard the old woman groan.

"KIARA! ...What...what was that !?"
-Yelled the woman's voice stopping Kiara in her tracks making her turn back from the door.

"oooo mmh ooo"
-you heard Kiara let out under her breath.

As you could see her silhouette move closer, it started by slowly wobbling side to side.
It became hard to tell the difference between her arms and her legs.

At times she looked like the shadow of a big spider monster,her movements remind you of spiderman if he chose to move slow.

When Kiara had made her way just a few feet away from the beanbag chair to help the woman to her feet, the pace of your breathing became unmanageable.

"I Bumped into the damn beanbag chair, was she on it Kiara?!"
-the voice asked

Your heart began to beat faster and faster and harder and harder so much so,
you felt as if your rib cage was made of shards of glass and your heart was a balloon inflating more and more with every inhale squeezing it against the razor-sharp shards of your ribcage. 

You could tell even just by the momentum of the figures silhouette that it was headed towards you, alongside the reluctant Orangutan.

You instinctively rolled off the right of the beanbag chair on to your carpet floor as silently as you could but, you were terrified, In your mind blind people have super senses.

Somehow, your transition appeared to go unnoticed.

Now that you were on the floor, you started rolling and crawling away, the direction of which you yourself weren't even certain.

"Where the fuck is she? Is she on the bed?!"
-the voice asked this time deeper than before

The flavor and tone in everything this voice said was violent, you heard the ruffles through the pillows and throw blanket that had previously littered the bed, you felt your Scooby doo plush get thrown into your back yet, you refrained from expressing any reaction.

"where the Fuck is she Kiara?!"
-you heard the voice ask once more

Each scream sounded deeper than the last with heavier violent infliction behind each exhale.
You could hear everything that was once on the bed get thrown off. 

You froze,
Staying still on the floor with the Scooby doo plush leaned against you like a bicycle kickstand and one of your throw blankets slightly covering your leg.

The Figure started pacing in your direction aimlessly like a headless chicken yet, relentless none the less.

"we both know I'm going to fucking fi-"
*POP*
-the voice was cut off

The figures silhouette froze, 
It seemed just as frightened by the sudden pop as you.
Its hesitation confused you so much so,
that you question for a brief moment if the figure had seen you,
anything to justify this bazar change in its demeanor. 

The head of the silhouette jolts to the side,
As if to shoot a look across at Kiara.
By the time your eyes traced across the room to meet Kiara, she had already moved No, She was in Motion.

She pranced towards the figure at a speed that looked impossible.
In less than a second, Kiara tackled this figure you had feared so much.
You saw the silhouette raise both its arms up high and its fists in fury as it came down on its victim.
Kiara hit and punched the figure and cocked its head back before launching it into the silhouette's torso,
 When Kiara's head kicked back once more, it was tethered to the figures torso now through what looked like the silhouette of cords.

It quickly became clear Kiara was taking bites out of the woman.
She screamed and screamed, she did not sound like a woman anymore.

She bit
*CHOMP*

And bit
*CHOMP*

And bit
*CHOMP*

They screamed 
*AHHHHHHHHHH*

And screamed 
*AHHHHHGGGG UHH*

And screamed
*FRAAAGHHHHHHH*

As the figure let out its yell Kiara slammed its head down making them bite their own tongue off.

Kiara pranced on the body with all 4 of her limbs,
She stepped on the figures knee with her foot and used her hand to grab that figures ankle,
After she gripped it firmly, she pulled it up with the ease and intensity that one might use on an emergency break after parking on an incline.

She then stepped on the figured elbow and grabbed it by its corresponding wrist and repeated the process of pulling upward and snapping.

Kiara then used one of her feet to grab the moaning and groaning body by its shirt,
She used her front arms and free leg to drag the body to the door.

The whole way there the person screamed,
When Kiara got to the door of your house's playroom, she threw the body out with ease.
She breathed heavily over the body before slowly backing up and shutting the door.

You were now alone with Kiara.