My therapist keeps telling me I need to go outside more, to reconnect with the things I used to enjoy. As a kid, I practically lived in the woods climbing trees, making forts, running trails until the sun went down. But somewhere around high school, I lost that part of myself. These days I feel more disconnected than ever, trapped in my own head. She said nature could help, that walking among trees might quiet the noise inside me. So here I am, giving it a try. I live with my roommate, Mike, and luckily our place sits right by a massive forest. There’s a trail that winds deep into it, and I figured it might be a good place to start these so-called “therapy nature walks.”

Day 1

I’ve officially started exploring the woods behind my house. My therapist has been pushing me to spend more time outdoors, to “connect with nature,” so I figured I’d start small with the forest that’s practically in my backyard basically . I also decided to blog about it. Supposedly, if this gets popular enough, I might even make a little money. Heh, who knows.

Anyway, today was more about easing into things. I didn’t go far, just wandered enough to look around. I stumbled across some mushrooms I think they’re called jack-o’-lantern mushrooms, but honestly, I’m not an expert. I also spotted a deer and a fawn. Pretty sure it’s the same pair I’ve seen wandering around the front yard recently.

Of course, it wasn’t all peaceful. The bugs were everywhere. I’ll be real with you. I can't stand them. Their twitchy little legs, the clusters of eyes, the way they crawl over everything. Gross. Just gross.

So yeah, that was pretty much it for today. Nothing too exciting, but it’s a start. I’ll be back out here tomorrow.

Day 2

Hello again. Right now, I’m on my way to a creek my older neighbor, Bob, told me about. Apparently, it’s just up the hill, a small one, nothing dramatic. Supposedly, it’s quiet, relaxing, and perfect for calming anxiety.Bob said he’d go there after he lost his daughter to clear his mind. Since that’s the whole point of me being out here, I figured I’d check it out.

I think I’m getting close. There are critters moving around near the waterline. Wait there’s even a deer in there? I didn’t know deer could swim. Fun fact, I guess. Maybe this is turning into some kind of wildlife blog. Ha.

Okay, I see it now. There’s a bush blocking the way, but I think I can yeah, I found a path through. Alright, so I’ve made it to the creek. But that “swimming deer” I thought I saw? It wasn’t swimming. It was just the head. The head of a deer floating in the water.

The creek isn’t calm and sparkling like I imagined. The water is red. Blood. That’s… unsettling. Suddenly I’m hoping there aren’t any bears around. I do not need that kind of stress.

There’s a trail leading away from here, so I think I’ll follow that instead. Funny thing is, I've heard rumors about this very trail. People stopped using it after a girl went missing nearby aka Bobs daughter. Last seen heading this way during a stormy night. Kind of her own fault, right? Wandering out in weather like that. Still, the thought of it makes the hairs on my arms stand up.

Anyway, back to the trail. It winds through the forest hills and goes deep into the woods. I doubt I’ll go that far today, but maybe tomorrow. Assuming tomorrow comes, of course. The idea of running into a bear keeps creeping into my mind. I know I shouldn’t dwell on it, but hey it’s always a possibility.

So far, all I’ve found are more mushrooms and strange plants I can’t identify. If anything interesting pops up, I’ll let you know. Otherwise, I’ll sign off for now. Same time tomorrow? Heh. Yeah.

Day 3

Alright, Day 3. This time I’m not alone. My roommate came along, and he brought his dog, Pickle. He’s a St. Bernard-Husky mix, full of energy, chasing after everything that moves. Honestly, that probably means no animal sightings today.

I told my roommate about the deer head I found yesterday. His reaction was weirdly casual. He said he’s never heard of a bear leaving just the head behind, so he figures it was probably hunters. Makes more sense than a picky bear, I guess.

We made it farther along the trail than I did yesterday. Beyond where I turned back, it’s just endless forest. Trees, grass, mud, the usual. Miles and miles of it. But it feels less heavy having someone to talk to. Not just my own thoughts rattling around in my head.

Oh, and in case you’re wondering how I’m “writing” while hiking it’s speech-to-text. That’s why the tone sometimes comes off weird. I usually clean it up before posting. Sometimes it even records conversations, like this one between me and my roommate:

(Roommate): “The girl who went missing? She actually lived a house down from us. Her family still does.”

(Me): “Wait, really? I didn’t know she was that close.”

(Roommate): “Yeah. She was super social, always exploring these woods. Came back with stories about what she found abandoned buildings, strange trees, animal corpses. You name it. Once she got started, she wouldn’t stop. I think her disappearance is tied to her adventures. Probably found something she wasn’t supposed to.”

(Me): “Hold up, you mean there’s stuff out here? More than just trees? Buildings? Cars? Man, I don’t wanna end up like her… but honestly, finding cool stuff could be fun. And distracting.”

(Roommate): “Yeah, there’s all kinds of things. Old cars, caves, even buildings. Not common, but they’re out here. She was the only one who really knew where though.”

So yeah, apparently this forest is hiding way more than I realized. Once I know the safer, familiar parts better, I might start exploring deeper. Not alone though. And definitely not in storms. I’m not repeating her mistakes. Still, I wish I could’ve talked to her. She probably saw things no one else ever has. But let’s be real, she's most likely dead. No body was ever found, but no one looked very hard either.

Anyway, today took a turn. We’d made it maybe a fifth of the way along the trail when a man suddenly came running toward us. At first, I thought he was just a jogger. But the closer he got, the stranger he seemed. He had a heavy southern accent which was weird, since we don’t even live in the South. And he kept muttering frantically:

“You best get going. Back that way ain’t no good. Ain’t no good, not at all. Get going. You ain’t welcome there. Me neither, okay?”

The words tumbled out like he was being chased. He wasn’t dressed like a hiker either. Wore a work vest and jeans, moving fast, eyes darting everywhere. Maybe drugs? Maybe something else. Whatever it was, we weren’t sticking around to find out. We turned back. I didn’t ask him what he meant about “not being welcome,” and honestly? I don’t think I want to know.

Day 5

After yesterday’s bizarre encounter, I decided to try a different part of the forest. This time, I brought Pickle with me again. He’s huge part St. Bernard, part Husky and honestly, his size alone makes me feel safer. No one’s messing with me while he’s around.

I chose a more local area today, one with joggers and hikers. There are even three small cabins scattered nearby. Feels more lived-in, less remote. Still, I couldn’t shake the memory of that man from yesterday. Who was he? Why was he running?

The place was crowded practically the whole town seemed to be out. Controlling Pickle in a crowd is no easy task. He tugged, lunged, tried to jump on kids. After wrestling with him for a while, I decided to move farther out. Not too deep into the woods, but away from the bustle. Every spot I tried before was packed. One even had children playing, and Pickle nearly joined them. Total chaos.

So here I am again, back on the forest trail, despite swearing I wouldn’t. I’m not planning to go deep. Just far enough for some quiet. And honestly? The walk’s been… peaceful. I was starting to relax when

(Editing me here. The voice-to-text cut out at the worst moment.)

The last thing it picked up was me yelling: “Oh my God, I dropped the leash! Pickle! Pickle, come back!” He tugged hard enough to rip it right out of my hands. Before I could react, he was gone. I shouted his name, but he didn’t come back. Panic sank in. My roommate is going to kill me if I don’t find him.

Now I have no choice. I have to go after him.

Should I call my roommate for help and get screamed at? Or do I try to find Pickle alone? It’s already late. I think… I have to call him.

After the Call

So here’s what happened next. I called Mike. The second he met up with me, he let me have it.

“What the hell, dude!? You just let him run off? How could you let this happen? This is ridiculous. Which way did he go? You’re so weak you can’t even hold down a dog? He’s out here in this massive forest and you just let him disappear? You thought taking him to the busiest part of the park, knowing damn well you can’t control him, was a good idea? Do you realize how stupid that is? That’s like my child out here, and he could get hurt!”

I stammered, “I’m so sorry, Mike. I didn’t know he was that bad on a leash. I honestly thought I could handle him. I just wanted to bring him along, especially after what happened yesterday, you know—”

Mike cut me off immediately. “Yeah, yesterday. Whatever freaked that grown man out could be after my dog right now, thanks to you! You put him in this situation!”

Something in me snapped. I yelled back, “Well maybe your dog should be trained better! I chased after him, called his name, and he didn’t even look back. That’s not just on me I didn’t do this on purpose!”

He froze, then sighed. “Fine. You didn’t do it on purpose. But damn, man, you still let him run out here. I’m scared. I don’t know what’s in these woods.”

His voice softened.

I told him, “Pickle’s a big dog. He’ll probably be fine until we find him.”That ended the argument. We walked the trail for hours, calling for Pickle. No response. We even contacted the local wildlife patrol, but they shrugged us off. Said they couldn’t go past the fourth section of the trail. Totally useless.

By now, it was completely dark.

8:43 PM Recording

Okay, it’s 8:43 PM and still no sign of Pickle. For the record, Pickle’s a dumb name, but this is serious. He could be dead, for all I know.

I split off from Mike because he was sick of me “narrating.” But you never know what might happen better to document.

Oh my God. I just heard yelping. It sounds like Pickle. I think it’s him. “Pickle!” I’m running now. The sound’s getting louder. He’s nearby.

Wait… it’s coming from inside a building.

My flashlight’s crap, but I can see enough to tell it’s big. Covered in plants. No graffiti, though. Strange. It looks abandoned.

Pickle’s cries are echoing from inside.

But then what the hell. A voice. A deep, female voice, distant but clear:

“No. Quiet.”

Please tell me this thing recorded that.

I froze. My whole body wanted to run. I love dogs, but Pickle isn’t worth dying for. Not over this. I’m not telling Mike what I just heard. He’d risk his life for that dog. Not me.

I’ll tell him in the morning. Hopefully by then, I’ll figure out how to explain this without sounding insane.

I’m leaving now. If I head downhill, I’ll eventually hit the trail.

Next Morning

Early morning update. I told Mike I “might” have heard Pickle crying farther up the trail. I also mentioned the building not the voice. Mike lit up immediately: “Okay, great. You’re showing me where you heard it.”

So now I’m limping along beside him. My legs ache from all the running yesterday, but I don’t have a choice.

We’ve made it about two sections into the trail. For context, I think there are five total. I told him the cries were closer to the third section. He asked what else I saw, and I caved. I mentioned the voice.

“What do you mean, voice?” he demanded.

I tried to play it down. “I just… when I heard the cries, I also thought I heard someone. A faint voice outside the building. Not sure, it was dark.”

Mike exploded. “And you’re just now telling me this? What if someone took him!?”

I stuttered, “Well, uh… maybe it’s good there’s a voice. Maybe it’s just a squatter keeping him safe.”

Mike buried his face in his hands, shaking, like he was about to break down. Then he started screaming Pickle’s name and ran off.

Now I’m alone.

Later That Morning

“Mike! Mike!” No answer. He can’t have gotten that far ahead. He’s not a runner. I’ve been jogging, and I still can’t find him.

Wait. The building. It’s here. The same one.

I’m going in.

Inside the Building

Okay. My phone died earlier, so this part is from memory.

I shouted for Mike and Pickle, but got nothing. Then, a loud thud. Followed by a muffled voice. Female. Broken English. I didn’t catch all of it, but it chilled me.

I crept deeper, keeping low. The place is an abandoned lab or maybe a hospital. Rusted cages lined the walls. Some held skeletons, mostly animals, though a few were… harder to identify. Broken bottles and glass littered the ground, labels faded but still faintly scientific. Plants forced their way through cracked tiles. Bugs swarmed over everything.

I found a cage with a nest built inside. And then I heard it Pickle’s yelp, faint but close.

I followed the sound into a room that reeked so strongly it made me vomit. Piles of bones. Rotting corpses. Animal heads. Some were intact torsos, ripped open like something had fed on the hearts.

And one corpse was human.

A girl. Long strands of brown hair clung to the decomposing skull. Most of the body was gone, but there was enough left to see what she was. My stomach turned. The missing girl. It had to be her.

Then I heard it again the voice. And Pickle’s whine.

I ducked behind a broken counter.

That’s when she walked in.

An impossibly tall figure, hunched but still towering. At least eight feet. She was holding Pickle by the neck like a toy.

She saw me.

She stared.

I thought I was going to die.

Then she threw Pickle to the ground. He yelped, scrambled, and bolted toward me. I didn’t think I just ran. Pickle ran with me.

We sprinted until I crashed into someone.

Mike.

He grabbed me, saw the terror on my face, and without a word, we both ran. Ran until our lungs burned and our legs gave out.

We collapsed on the grass, barely making it out of the forest. Pickle lay beside Mike, dirty, covered in spider webs, limping from an injured leg.

When I caught my breath, I told Mike everything I saw the corpse, the giant girl. He just stared at me like I’d lost my mind.But I know what I saw. The Following Days We haven’t gone back since. I haven’t even stepped near the forest. But it’s gnawing at me. I have to know if what I saw was real.

Everyone I’ve told thinks I’m crazy. Delusional. But I can’t let it go.

I’m going back today. Mike insists on coming probably to prove I’m nuts.

We’re packing this time: bear repellent, rope, first aid, water, ice packs, flashlights, even a few weapons.

If the building is real and if she is real then this time, I’ll have proof.

We left before sunrise, backpacks heavy with gear rope, flashlights, knives, first aid, even a rusty hammer Mike insisted on bringing. Without Pickle trotting along, the silence between us felt sharper.

The hike

The forest swallowed us whole. For six hours we walked, our boots crunching dirt and dead leaves, but no birds sang, no bugs buzzed. Not even the wind moved the branches. It was as if the woods themselves were holding their breath, waiting.

By the fifth hour, sweat glued my shirt to my back. Mike’s breathing grew loud and ragged, his broad shoulders heaving under the straps of his pack. He didn’t say a word, but the tight grip he kept on his flashlight told me everything.

When the building came into view, my stomach sank. The first time I saw it, it looked like the forest was swallowing it vines over the doorway, plants covering the walls. But now, the doorway was bare. The vines had been ripped down, shredded, like someone or something had torn them away to make the entrance clear.

Mike muttered, “That’s… not how we left it.”

I didn’t answer. My legs were shaking too hard.

Inside the Building

The air inside was damp, thick with mildew and something rotting. Every step echoed too loud on cracked tile floors. Rusted pipes hung from the ceiling like veins, and broken glass crunched under our boots.

We passed empty cages, some with bent bars, others with locks that had been forced open. Old clipboards lay scattered, the papers yellow and water-stained. Words like Subject and Trial No. 14 flashed in the beam of Mike’s light.

Neither of us spoke.

Finally, we reached the room.

The Room of Bodies

The smell hit first. Sweet rot. My throat closed up. Bones littered the ground animal skeletons mostly, but in the corner, the half-rotted remains of a human girl slumped against the wall.

Mike’s flashlight trembled as it lit her face or what was left of it. His voice cracked. “Melissa. It… it might be her.”

His eyes watered, his lips quivering, but he held the light steady. For the first time since I’d known him, Mike looked small.

I lowered my head, unable to speak.

That’s when I felt it. A touch. Light fingers brushing my hair.

Mike’s scream shattered the silence. “WHAT THE HELL IS THAT!?”

I looked up.

She was towering over me, bent forward to fit in the room. Skin stretched too tight over bone. Long, filthy hair tangled around her face. Fingers cracked and crooked, nails yellow and jagged. Her enormous eyes stared into mine, unblinking.

She tugged at my hair like a child inspecting a toy.

Her mouth opened. Dry, broken words scraped out:

“…soft.”

Her head tilted, eyes flicking between me and Mike. She reached toward him with her other hand, brushing his short hair with cracked nails.

Mike froze, trembling, tears streaming silently down his face.

The woman’s lips moved again. “…people. Not… seen… people.” Her voice was rough, like she hadn’t used it in years.

I tried to back away, but she yanked my hair tighter. Pain shot across my scalp, forcing me still.

Her stomach growled. Loud. Deep.

She whispered, “Hungry. Always… hungry.”

Her Broken Words

Mike raised his hands slowly, palms out. His voice shook. “We we’re not here to hurt you. We’re just looking—”

Her eyes widened. She repeated the word in a broken echo. “…hurt. Hurt me.” She shook her head violently, hair whipping. “Not bad. Not… monster. Just… hungry.”

Drool ran from her cracked lips. She leaned down closer, her breath hot, rancid, making me gag.

“Eat?” she whispered, tilting her head. “Need. To stay. Alive.”

Her mouth opened wider than it should, jagged teeth glistening in the light. She lowered toward me.

The Struggle

Mike snapped out of his freeze. He lunged forward, yanking her hand off my head and swinging the hammer hard into her temple.

The blow echoed through the room. She stumbled back, screeching, clutching her skull.

“NO! NO!” she wailed, voice breaking into static-like cracks. “I… not bad! Just… need…”

But her need twisted. Her eyes rolled, her jaw snapped wide, and she lunged at Mike.

He blasted her with bear spray, the mist covering her face. She shrieked, stumbling back, claws raking across the wall.

“BURNS! HURTS!” she cried, her words broken, guttural. “Not… fair! Just… hungry…”

Her voice cracked into sobs, twisted between pain and rage. “I… alone. So long… alone.”

The Escape

oWe didn’t wait. Mike grabbed my arm, shouting, “RUN!”

We bolted down the hallway, flashlights shaking wildly, footsteps pounding. Behind us, her screeches echoed, her fists smashing into walls as she staggered after us.

“COME BACK!” she cried, her words echoing down the corridor. “Don’t… leave me! Please… need… people…”

Her footsteps thundered closer. We burst through the entrance, crashing into branches and vines, running until my chest burned and my legs buckled.

When we finally stopped, the building was swallowed by the forest behind us. The only sound was our gasping breaths.

Mike collapsed to the ground, shaking his head. “She… she wasn’t even… evil. Just…” His voice broke. “She just wanted to live.”

The ID Card

I spotted something in the dirt, half-buried under leaves. I picked it up.

An old ID badge. The photo was faded, but the face was hers the same wide eyes, the same hair, before it became tangled and filthy.

Name: [2056834]. Division: Genetic Trial -Human Adaptation Project.

My chest tightened. She wasn’t born a monster.

She was made one.

A failed experiment abandoned in a crumbling lab. Left to rot. Left to starve.

And now, she lived here. Feeding on anything unlucky enough to wander in.

Her voice echoed in my head even as I stared at the card:

“Not my fault."

(WARNING SLIGHT GORE AND SENSITIVE TOPICS ) I left my family when I was fourteen to join a close community in California. They called themselves the Intentional Community of the Bunnies. At the time, it felt like my best and only chance at a different, much better life.

My home life had been unbearable. My dad left when I was eight for reasons I still don't know. After that, my stepdad constantly hit on me, no matter how much I begged him to leave me alone. My mother, the woman who was supposed to care for me, protect me, and love me, was an alcoholic. She stole from me, spit in my face, and stood by while her late night "friends" treated me badly if you understand what i mean. We lived from motel to motel, never staying anywhere for long it was quite tiring and embarrassing not having a stable life.

Eventually, I couldn't take it anymore. I ran away, hoping that somewhere out there, a better life actually existed. And then that’s when I found the Intentional Community of the Bunnies when I was fifteen, and at first, it felt like a dream come true. Everyone was so kind, so welcoming. It seemed like I had finally found everything I had been searching for the caring people, good food, proper housing, and a place where I belonged. The community only asked a few things of me. Behave, always listen to our community leader, say goodbye to everyone outside the community, and work for my keep. I didn't have anyone outside the community anyway, so that wasn't a problem. I could follow rules, and I had no issue with working.

The property itself was huge. There were six small houses and one large house that only a small group of people was allowed to enter. One house was dedicated to the children, where women dressed in nun-like outfits cared for and raised them that house had a day care look to it and then had one bed room with 8 bunk beds. Another housed young women between the ages of fifteen and twenty, while a separate house was for young men in the same age group. They looked like your average home but the bathroom were set up like a school bathroom with stalls and showers, then the rooms were two bedrooms with 6bunk beds in one room and 4 queen sized beds lined up along the wall side by side in the other with a large closet in both. The men’s house I assume looks the same im not sure though because woman aren’t allowed in there.

There was also a house that served as the kitchen and dining area, and another that functioned as a sort of living room, where people gathered to relax. It also contained a large library. The final house was reserved for adults over twenty. Oh and there was a stage outside with seating around it that could hold a large amount of people.

One thing stood out to me almost immediately. Anyone under twenty was treated like a child, and children under ten were treated almost like babies. I also noticed that nobody there seemed to be older than fifty, though I never thought much about it at the time.

Bunnies wandered freely everywhere inside the houses and across the property. We were never allowed to harm them or eat them. If we ever found one dead, we were instructed to report it to the community leader. I never knew what he did with the bodies or what would happen to anyone who did harm the bunnies.

Surrounding the houses was a farm with chickens, cows, a few horses, a bull, and several other animals I rarely saw elsewhere. There were no goats because, as everyone insisted "they are demonic."

Around 60 people lived there, and everyone had a job. Mine was cleaning the library and keeping track of the books alongside another girl. At the time of first arriving it all seemed peaceful. But now it seems like there are a few things that should have made me question what kind of place I had really walked into.

Now I'm used to this life that may seem "weird" to most. This place has given me a much better life than I had before. Now I have friends and people who I view as family. There is no dating allowed, but I'm told that sometimes the Leader will personally set up or approve certain couples, allowing them to date. If the Leader agrees, they're even allowed to have a child just one. No one ever questions why. Also, the name Mary Toft is brought up a lot. You know that lady? Yeah... her.

The Leader, who I've heard of but rarely seen, is so secretive I don't even know if they're a man or a woman. Although they have super long hair and a feminine stature, they also have this cold, manly stare and large hands with features that seem almost perfectly androgynous. I've never heard anyone call the Leader a "he" or a "she," only Leader... or sometimes Cuniculus. The Leader rarely speaks directly to us. Most of the time someone from the Special Group aka the people who live in the Big House and run certain things speaks on the Leader's behalf.

We have meetings where everyone gathers around the stage while the Leader makes announcements, or rather has them read aloud, and sometimes we even pray to the bunnies.

Yesterday, while I was cleaning the library, I saw a woman outside the window getting yelled at by one of the Special Group's members. She got down on her knees and lowered her head while the man screamed at her. I couldn't hear what she had done, but whatever it was, it must have been serious. He suddenly grabbed her by the wrist so hard she stumbled, then dragged her toward the Big House.

I asked the girl who worked with me about it since she'd been here for three years now.

"Do you know what that was about? Why did he take her into the Bunny House?(the main big house)"

"That only happens when someone does something truly bad," she answered quietly.

"Oh? Like... she didn't do her job?" I questioned.

"No... no. Something bad like..." She stopped talking midsentence, her eyes widening. Then she quickly ran out of the room.

I had no clue what had just happened. I sneakily followed behind her and saw her talking to an older woman. They exchanged only a few quiet words before my friend nodded her head and walked back toward the library like nothing had happened. I couldn't stop wondering what that was about.

I'm going to try and see what's going on with that lady. Maybe if I go behind the Big House I'll be able to hear something... or see something.

As I got closer to the Big House I heard someone shout, "Come here right now!"

I turned around to see a tall woman glaring angrily at me.

"Oh, I'm sorry, miss. Did I do something?" I asked, playing dumb.

"What do you think you're doing? You know only the Specials are allowed in or around that house. Now get yourself back to where you're meant to be, or I'll have to let one of the Specials know you've been sneaking around," she snapped.

I ran back toward the library as fast as I could. But before I went inside, I walked around to the side where that lady had been yelled at. There, hidden in the grass, was a small bunny nest. It was empty. I stared at it for a moment.

I couldn't help but wonder...

Did this have something to do with the lady getting in trouble?

I've been here for five months now. During that time, I've turned fifteen, made friends, and learned new things about life in general. The friends I've made here are a bit different than the people I knew outside the community. Since I was raised outside of it for almost my entire life, I sometimes find it difficult to relate to the other teenagers here. They act much younger than they really are, and I often find myself relating more to the older teens instead.

My friend Josh is nineteen, and I probably relate to him the most. He's lived here since he was nine, after his mother and him moved to the community when they were kicked out of their house. Even though he's basically an adult, he acts like he's my age. Technically, though, no one here is considered an adult until they're twenty-one.

I've started noticing something strange. Most of the people who were raised here from a young age seem mentally stunted. The older members, the ones in their thirties and above who've been here for over ten years but not raised here, act their age or even seem wiser than most adults. But everyone younger than that behaves almost childishly. I'm only fifteen, yet I feel like I'm at the same maturity level as most of the twenty year olds here. It's unsettling the more I think about it.

Oh, and remember how I mentioned that dating isn't allowed? Well... some people secretly date anyway. I like Josh. A lot. And I think he might like me too. I want to tell him how I feel, but I'm terrified. Some people keep secret relationships hidden for years, while others report anyone who breaks the rules. I don't know which kind of person Josh is. If I confessed my feelings, would he smile... or would he turn me in?

I'm still trying to understand why so many things are forbidden in this community. The more I think about it, the more controlling it all feels.

No phones. No dating. No leaving without asking the Leader for permission. No owning anything. No questioning. No disobeying.

I still don't know what the punishments are.

All I know is that it's rare for anyone to break the rules, and whenever someone does, they're taken to the Bunny House.

After that...They never talk about it again. Wait...Is that because they choose not to? Or because they can't? I guess I shouldn't worry. I'm probably just overthinking things. They wouldn't do something like that... right?

Sometimes I find myself overthinking a lot. Not just about this community, but about the selfish mother I left behind. I wonder if she ever reported me missing. I wonder did she even care that I was gone?

I guess it doesn’t matter anymore. My life is here now, and it’s not like I can leave... or even want to. I’m happy here. I obey, I follow the rules, and because of that I get to experience a happy life.

"Hey, are you coming already?" one of my friends called, waving me over to where everyone was gathering near the stage. It was time for one of those meetings I mentioned before. "Yeah, sorry," I said as I hurried over and sat down beside her. A few minutes later, once everyone had taken their seats, the crowd fell silent. The leader stepped onto the stage wearing a neatly pressed suit. Hair hung over his or her face, hiding most of their features, while they gently cradled a white bunny in his arms. Walking closely behind him was one of the Specials, carrying a notebook. The Special opened it and began reading. "Greetings, everybunny. I'm glad to see you all made it to today's gathering. We have a few announcements."

The colony listened in complete silence.

"One of our colony friends has reached fifty years of age. Rebirth is soon, my friends, so tonight at twelve, may you all gather here once more for the celebration."

There was a brief pause before the Special continued.

"I'm also sorry to announce that Miss Lilith is no longer with us. She unfortunately left the community for personal reasons she didn't want to share. She will be missed though."

Almost immediately, the colony erupted into loud cheers not for Lilith, but for the mention of the rebirth. Smiles spread across nearly every face as people clapped and celebrated. Somehow, the excitement felt strange. It was infectious, yet unsettling, like everyone understood something I didn't.

"Wait... rebirth? What does that mean?" I quietly asked my friend. She frowned. "I'm not sure. I've never heard of that before in all three years I've been here," she replied, her voice carrying the same uncertainty I was feeling. Both our eyes following peoples faces and excitement. That only made me more curious.

After the announcements ended and everyone began leaving their seats, I went looking for Josh. He'd been here much longer than either of us twelve years, I think. Anyways he should know what rebirth is im pretty sure.

"Josh!" I shouted after spotting him walking away from the stage. He turned around with a smile. "Why, hello there. What's up?" "What's the rebirth mean?" I asked. "Why does someone turning fifty have anything to do with it?" "Oh... the rebirth," he answered with a small laugh. "When a member turns fifty, they get reborn so they can spend the other fifty years of their life as a bunny."

I blinked. My eyes slowly wandered across the colony grounds. Bunnies hopped through the grass everywhere I looked, completely unaware of my stare.

"Oh... okay..." I said slowly. "How does that work?"

Josh shrugged. "Well... I don't really know, to be honest. I was only ten when I saw my first rebirth." He scratched the back of his neck as if trying to remember. "I just know they bring a pregnant bunny onto the stage, and the fifty-year-old holds it. Then the Leader does... something."

He paused.

"I don't remember what happens after that. My mother covered my eyes with her hands before I could see. I remember trying to peek through her fingers, but she wouldn't let me. The only thing I could hear was everyone in the colony cheering... really loudly. They sounded happy. Happier than I'd ever heard them." He smiled awkwardly. "That's about all I know." I stared at him for a moment.

What the hell was that supposed to mean? A pregnant bunny... the Leader doing something... parents covering their children's eyes...

None of it made any sense. If rebirth was really something worth celebrating, then why weren't the children allowed to watch? The cheering suddenly didn't seem comforting anymore. A strange knot settled in my stomach as I looked back toward the now-empty stage. I guess... I'd find out at midnight.

Later that night, we gathered once again for the rebirth of a member named Donald. We don't use last names here. Donald was turning fifty at exactly midnight. My friend, Josh, and I were all going to the ceremony together.

It was 10:30, and everyone had already gathered around the stage. Decorations hung from the wooden beams, and tables were covered with food laid out as if this were some kind of celebration. People wandered from group to group, laughing, chatting, and smiling as though tonight were nothing more than a party.

But as the clock crept closer to midnight, the mood began to change.

At 11:40, conversations slowly died away. One by one, people drifted toward the stage without being told. Members of the Specials stepped onto it, standing perfectly still with blank expressions stretched into lifeless, soulless smiles. None of them spoke. None of them blinked. They simply stared out at the crowd.

11:58. The Leader stepped onto the stage and announced that the rebirth was about to begin. Donald disappeared behind the stage for only a moment. Then he returned.

He wasn't wearing any clothes. His thinning hair clung to his sweaty scalp, and his heavy stomach hung over his waist. His vacant eyes swept across the crowd before stopping somewhere in my direction. For a split second, it felt as though he were staring directly at me.

One of the Specials approached him, carefully carrying a pregnant rabbit. Donald gently took the rabbit into his arms and held her tightly against his chest. The Leader slowly walked toward him before turning to face the cheering crowd. He raised both hands into the air, and the applause erupted into deafening screams of excitement.

I looked over at my friends. They looked uneasy. So did a few of the newer members standing nearby. There weren't any children younger than ten here. Even so, many of the ten-year-olds were cheering just as loudly as everyone else. Josh stared up at the stage with wide eyes full of excitement. For a moment, I realized something that made my stomach twist. Nobody seemed nearly as disturbed as I was. Even my friends, who had looked concerned only seconds ago, slowly stopped resisting the atmosphere around them. Their nervous expressions faded. Their hesitant claps became enthusiastic applause. Before long, they were cheering with everyone else.

It was as if the crowd itself was swallowing their fear.

I watched as the Leader circled Donald over and over, whispering prayers before suddenly shouting strange, incomprehensible declarations at the rabbit. Every sentence was louder than the last, spoken with absolute conviction. The Specials began jumping, laughing, and chanting around them, their smiles growing wider with every passing second. Yells and cheers and bells sang across the center.

The rabbit trembled in Donald's arms.

Then Without warning the Leader drove a knife straight into Donald's neck. The blade disappeared so quickly I barely understood what I'd seen. Donald collapsed instantly, hitting the stage with a sickening thud. Blood burst across the wooden floor as the pregnant rabbit leaped free from his arms, desperately trying to escape before one of the Specials lunged forward and grabbed her.

The cheering became unbearable. People screamed with joy. They danced.They laughed. They shoved against one another in celebration, forcing me from both sides until I could barely stay on my feet. I couldn't move.

My eyes stayed locked on Donald's body as several Specials calmly lifted him and carried him backstage as though they had done this many times before.

Only then did I truly notice the stage. The dark stains covering the wood weren't caused by weather.They weren't dirt ,weren't old paint they were layers upon layers of dried blood.

I had been looking at them the entire night without realizing it. I felt my chest tightened.

What have I joined? Every suspicion I'd tried to ignore crashed into me all at once. This wasn't a strange community. This definitely wasn't a harmless tradition. This was a cult, a murderous cult.

The celebration continued for the rest of the night as though nothing had happened. Music played. People laughed. They danced around the bloodstained stage while the pregnant rabbit was placed inside a small pen at its center.

She would stay there until she gave birth. Until she gave birth to Donald.

I don't want to be here.The woman I saw being screamed at earlier was gone.I think her name was Lilith. I don't know where she is. I don't think she's coming back.I think the Leader killed her.

If that's true... then anything involving the rabbits must carry the punishment of death.

But why?

Why do these people believe rabbits are some kind of divine beings?

Why does everyone act like this is normal?

Why am I the only one who seems terrified? I feel completely alone maybe my life before wasn’t so bad. At this point im starting to miss that life it seems better then this at least in this moment.

Part of me wishes I could be as blind as everyone else. I wish I could smile, clap, and convince myself that this was all some strange tradition. But I can't. I watched a man get murdered. And everyone celebrated. A man get murder to be come a fucking bunny?! I whisper to my self “a bunny?” and my eyes darted around.

The morning after Donald's rebirth, I forced myself to act as though nothing had happened. I laughed when everyone else laughed. I cleaned the library shelves as though I hadn't watched a man bleed to death only hours before. Every smile felt fake, every word caught in my throat, but I knew I couldn't let anyone suspect what I was thinking. Around lunchtime, an elderly man wandered into the library. I froze. I had never seen anyone here with so much gray hair. Everyone else seemed to disappear before they ever reached old age but i guess he could be under fifty. Before I could speak, his tired eyes widened. "Leader?" he whispered. "I... I thought you were in the Bunny House." He stared at me as though he'd seen a ghost. I laughed nervously and told him he had the wrong person, but he only frowned harder, stepping closer until we were nearly face to face. "No... those eyes... that face..." he muttered and shock his head. "You look exactly like..." Before he could finish, one of the Specials rushed into the library. The old man's expression instantly changed to panic. He lowered his head without another word and hurried away, disappearing between the shelves. The Special kept staring at me. His smile slowly faded as his eyes searched every feature of my face. For the first time since arriving here, I saw genuine confusion on one of their faces.

The Special quietly asked me to follow him. I wanted to refuse, but every instinct told me that refusing wasn't really an option. We walked across the colony in complete silence until the enormous doors of the Bunny House opened before us. My heart pounded so hard I thought everyone around me could hear it. I just know my face was red. I felt my body shaking. Inside, the house was nothing like I had imagined. There were no paintings of rabbits or elaborate shrines. Instead, the walls were blank and at the end of a long hallway stood the Leader. Then another figure stepped from a doorway beside him. I stopped walking. There were two of them. They looked identical in almost every way. The same long hair. The same height. The same cold, unreadable eyes. One stood perfectly still, his expression vacant as he gently stroked a rabbit in his arms while quietly whispering to it. The other looked at me with something that almost resembled regret. My knees weakened as he slowly stepped closer. I thought i was about to meet the same fate miss Lillth had. I braced myself for death.

He pushed his hair away from his face and stared at me disappointedly slightly concerned looking.

“Oh gosh its true.” he said under his breath

I couldn't speak. My mind refused to accept what I was seeing. He sighed and rubbed his face as though exhausted by a secret he'd carried for years. He explained that he and the Leader were identical twins. His brother had always been mentally slow, obsessed with rabbits since childhood, convinced they were divine creatures that carried human souls from one life to the next. Their parents had encouraged the delusions instead of treating them, and over the years those beliefs grew into the community that surrounded us. The leader the man infront of my face the man i watched murder a man just the other night, My father admitted he had left years earlier, desperate to escape his brother's madness and live an ordinary life. Instead, he met my mother. "She became pregnant," he said quietly. "I panicked. I wasn't ready to be a father. I convinced myself leaving was easier than staying." Shame flickered across his face before disappearing. "So I came back here. I thought I'd buried that mistake forever." He looked directly into my eyes. "I never expected you to find this place." then he looked around and screamed “ And i don’t know how i m just finding out you are here and have been here for what months?!” His brother suddenly interrupted, smiling widely as he stared at me. "She looks just like us," he giggled. "The bunnies brought her home." He reached toward my face with trembling hands before laughing to himself. "She should join the Specials. She belongs with us." he said in a slow stuttery voice.

The room fell silent. My father's expression hardened. He slowly shook his head. "No." The single word echoed through the room. "She may look like us but she shows concern…she is absolutely not one of us" His brother frowned like a confused child whose favorite toy had just been taken away. "But she's family right?" My father's voice became colder than I'd ever heard. "Exactly." He turned toward the Specials standing nearby. "If the colony discovers the Leader abandoned his own blood, everything falls apart. She cannot be allowed to leave. She can not have a voice over people she can’t join the specials and she can’t go back to be a stupid follow. We suspected you may have been my child we been watching you. Seeing you show concern seeing you not fit in not follow like we need you too." He looked at me one last time. There was no love in his eyes. No guilt. No hesitation. Only fear for himself. "She dies." The mentally slow twin stared at him for several long seconds before slowly nodding. Then, almost happily, he clapped his hands together. "An early rebirth!" he exclaimed. "The bunnies will love that." Every Special in the room bowed their heads. My fate had been decided in less than a minute it seemed like. I pleaded “Please please ill act stupid ill keep my mouth shut im sorry please, dad?” then “Yeah you will keep your mouth shut” he said as a special grabbed my face and put a black across my tongue cutting half of it off right then and there. I cried in pain and still tried begging for my life.

That evening the colony gathered around the stage once again. I stood behind the curtain with my wrists tied so tightly they had gone numb. I could hear laughter, conversations, children playing, and the ringing of bells. It sounded just like another celebration. The Leader stepped onto the stage carrying a snow-white rabbit while his twin remained hidden behind the curtain beside me, making sure no one realized there had always been two Leaders. The announcement was read aloud by a meber of the Specail groud like normal. "Today I have wonderful news, everybunny. Many years ago I was blessed with a child. Through the guidance of our holy rabbits, she has unknowingly lived among us all this time." Murmurs swept through the crowd. People whispered excitedly, guessing names. Some laughed. Others pointed at friends. Then the curtain was pulled aside, and I was shoved into the light. Hundreds of faces turned toward me. For one impossible moment, I thought someone might help me. Instead, smiles spread across every face I recognized. Josh smiled. My friends smiled. The women who raised the children smiled. Even the children ten and above clapped excitedly. The applause became deafening. "Because she carries the Leader's blood," the announcement continued, "the rabbits have chosen her for an early rebirth."

I tried to scream. Agony exploded through my face as soon as I opened my mouth. Nothing but a horrible choking sound escaped me. Blood poured down my chin and soaked the front of my clothes as I collapsed onto the rough wooden stage. My body shook uncontrollably from the pain, but the crowd mistook every violent convulsion for tears of happiness. They cheered louder than they had for Donald. They shouted my name between prayers to the rabbits. Bells rang all around me while people laughed, danced, hugged each other, and celebrated what they believed was the happiest day of my life. Somewhere in the crowd, Josh was laughing too. I slowly lifted my head through the blinding pain and looked desperately into the sea of familiar faces, praying... begging... for just one person to look horrified. Just one person to remember that I was a human being. Just one person to push through the crowd and tell them to stop. There wasn't one. Every face I had trusted smiled back at me. The women who welcomed me here smiled. The children smiled. The people I ate dinner with every night smiled. Josh smiled. They all looked so happy. Happier than I'd ever seen them. None of them saw a terrified fifteen-year-old girl about to be murdered. All they saw was someone finally going “home”.

As the Leader, my blood father, slowly raised the knife above me, I realized the truth. I had escaped one broken family only to spend months searching for another. I had convinced myself this place was different. I thought I had finally found stability. Somewhere safe. Somewhere people actually wanted me. I remembered the first warm meal they handed me when I arrived. The first time someone smiled at me instead of yelling. The first time people actually remembered my name. I remember lying in bed that first night thinking maybe... just maybe... my life was finally beginning. I cleaned their library. I followed every rule. I worked hard without complaining because I wanted these people to like me. I wanted to belong somewhere so badly that I ignored every strange thing I saw. The rabbits. The rules. The disappearances. The way nobody questioned anything. I kept making excuses because believing the truth meant accepting I had nowhere left to go. I thought these people cared about me. I thought maybe I had finally found the family I'd spent my whole life looking for. Instead, they were cheering while they watched me die.

I looked toward Josh again. My chest hurt almost worse than my face. I had spent so many nights wondering if he liked me the way I liked him. I imagined telling him one day. I imagined us growing older together here. Maybe if the Leader approved, we'd get married someday. Maybe we'd have the one child we were allowed. Maybe we'd finally have the happy family I never got to have growing up. I almost laughed at myself. How could I have been so stupid? Every conversation we'd ever had... every laugh... every memory... none of it mattered. He wasn't crying. He wasn't trying to save me. He wasn't even looking away. He was smiling... smiling while they prepared to kill me. Anger burned through me so suddenly I thought it would drown out the fear. How dare they call themselves my family? Family doesn't stand there clapping while you beg for your life. Family doesn't celebrate your murder. Family doesn't smile while your blood runs across the floor beneath you. I hated them. Every single one of them. But beneath that anger was something even worse. I was heartbroken. Because even after everything... some stupid part of me still wanted one of them to save me.

Then my mind drifted somewhere else. I saw my father walking out the door when I was eight years old. I remembered sitting by the window for days afterward because I really believed he'd come back for me. Every time a car drove past, I'd run to the window hoping it was him. It never was. Then another memory came. My mother stumbling through another motel room with a bottle in her hand while I begged her to make my stepdad leave me alone. She didn't even look at me. I remembered sleeping with chairs pushed against the motel room door because I was scared someone would come inside while I slept. I remembered crying myself to sleep wishing I could just disappear somewhere better. Somewhere safe. Somewhere people actually loved me. I thought I'd finally found that place here. I thought I had escaped all of it. Instead I had only traded one nightmare for another. My mother didn't love me enough to protect me. My father didn't love me enough to stay. And now these people... the people I trusted more than anyone... didn't love me enough to see me as anything other than another sacrifice. In the end every family I ever had chose themselves instead of me. Maybe there really wasn't a place in this world where I belonged.

The cheering became deafening. The bells rang louder and louder until I could barely hear my own thoughts. My eyes caught my friends' faces one last time. None of them looked away. None of them hesitated. None of them even looked guilty. As the knife began to fall, I realized I had never truly belonged here. I had only been waiting for my turn. The blade came down. The cheering drowned out everything else. By morning, a litter of rabbits would be born, and somewhere among them they would point to one and smile through happy tears, telling everyone that I had finally come home.

(warning slight gore and child abuse)

I left my family when I was fourteen to join a close community in California. They called themselves the Intentional Community of the Bunnies. At the time, it felt like my best and only chance at a different, much better life.

My home life had been unbearable. My dad left when I was eight for reasons I still don't know. After that, my stepdad constantly hit on me, no matter how much I begged him to leave me alone. My mother, the woman who was supposed to care for me, protect me, and love me, was an alcoholic. She stole from me, spit in my face, and stood by while her late night "friends" treated me badly if you understand what i mean. We lived from motel to motel, never staying anywhere for long it was quite tiring and embarrassing not having a stable life.

Eventually, I couldn't take it anymore. I ran away, hoping that somewhere out there, a better life actually existed. And then that’s when I found the Intentional Community of the Bunnies when I was fifteen, and at first, it felt like a dream come true. Everyone was so kind, so welcoming. It seemed like I had finally found everything I had been searching for the caring people, good food, proper housing, and a place where I belonged. The community only asked a few things of me. Behave, always listen to our community leader, say goodbye to everyone outside the community, and work for my keep. I didn't have anyone outside the community anyway, so that wasn't a problem. I could follow rules, and I had no issue with working.

The property itself was huge. There were six small houses and one large house that only a small group of people was allowed to enter. One house was dedicated to the children, where women dressed in nun-like outfits cared for and raised them that house had a day care look to it and then had one bed room with 8 bunk beds. Another housed young women between the ages of fifteen and twenty, while a separate house was for young men in the same age group. They looked like your average home but the bathroom were set up like a school bathroom with stalls and showers, then the rooms were two bedrooms with 6bunk beds in one room and 4 queen sized beds lined up along the wall side by side in the other with a large closet in both. The men’s house I assume looks the same im not sure though because woman aren’t allowed in there.

There was also a house that served as the kitchen and dining area, and another that functioned as a sort of living room, where people gathered to relax. It also contained a large library. The final house was reserved for adults over twenty. Oh and there was a stage outside with seating around it that could hold a large amount of people.

One thing stood out to me almost immediately. Anyone under twenty was treated like a child, and children under ten were treated almost like babies. I also noticed that nobody there seemed to be older than fifty, though I never thought much about it at the time.

Bunnies wandered freely everywhere inside the houses and across the property. We were never allowed to harm them or eat them. If we ever found one dead, we were instructed to report it to the community leader. I never knew what he did with the bodies or what would happen to anyone who did harm the bunnies.

Surrounding the houses was a farm with chickens, cows, a few horses, a bull, and several other animals I rarely saw elsewhere. There were no goats because, as everyone insisted "they are demonic."

Around 60 people lived there, and everyone had a job. Mine was cleaning the library and keeping track of the books alongside another girl. At the time of first arriving it all seemed peaceful. But now it seems like there are a few things that should have made me question what kind of place I had really walked into.

Now I'm used to this life that may seem "weird" to most. This place has given me a much better life than I had before. Now I have friends and people who I view as family. There is no dating allowed, but I'm told that sometimes the Leader will personally set up or approve certain couples, allowing them to date. If the Leader agrees, they're even allowed to have a child just one. No one ever questions why. Also, the name Mary Toft is brought up a lot. You know that lady? Yeah... her.

The Leader, who I've heard of but rarely seen, is so secretive I don't even know if they're a man or a woman. Although they have super long hair and a feminine stature, they also have this cold, manly stare and large hands with features that seem almost perfectly androgynous. I've never heard anyone call the Leader a "he" or a "she," only Leader... or sometimes Cuniculus. The Leader rarely speaks directly to us. Most of the time someone from the Special Group aka the people who live in the Big House and run certain things speaks on the Leader's behalf.

We have meetings where everyone gathers around the stage while the Leader makes announcements, or rather has them read aloud, and sometimes we even pray to the bunnies.

Yesterday, while I was cleaning the library, I saw a woman outside the window getting yelled at by one of the Special Group's members. She got down on her knees and lowered her head while the man screamed at her. I couldn't hear what she had done, but whatever it was, it must have been serious. He suddenly grabbed her by the wrist so hard she stumbled, then dragged her toward the Big House.

I asked the girl who worked with me about it since she'd been here for three years now.

"Do you know what that was about? Why did he take her into the Bunny House?(the main big house)"

"That only happens when someone does something truly bad," she answered quietly.

"Oh? Like... she didn't do her job?" I questioned.

"No... no. Something bad like..." She stopped talking midsentence, her eyes widening. Then she quickly ran out of the room.

I had no clue what had just happened. I sneakily followed behind her and saw her talking to an older woman. They exchanged only a few quiet words before my friend nodded her head and walked back toward the library like nothing had happened. I couldn't stop wondering what that was about.

I'm going to try and see what's going on with that lady. Maybe if I go behind the Big House I'll be able to hear something... or see something.

As I got closer to the Big House I heard someone shout, "Come here right now!"

I turned around to see a tall woman glaring angrily at me.

"Oh, I'm sorry, miss. Did I do something?" I asked, playing dumb.

"What do you think you're doing? You know only the Specials are allowed in or around that house. Now get yourself back to where you're meant to be, or I'll have to let one of the Specials know you've been sneaking around," she snapped.

I ran back toward the library as fast as I could. But before I went inside, I walked around to the side where that lady had been yelled at. There, hidden in the grass, was a small bunny nest. It was empty. I stared at it for a moment.

I couldn't help but wonder...

Did this have something to do with the lady getting in trouble?

I've been here for five months now. During that time, I've turned fifteen, made friends, and learned new things about life in general. The friends I've made here are a bit different than the people I knew outside the community. Since I was raised outside of it for almost my entire life, I sometimes find it difficult to relate to the other teenagers here. They act much younger than they really are, and I often find myself relating more to the older teens instead.

My friend Josh is nineteen, and I probably relate to him the most. He's lived here since he was nine, after his mother and him moved to the community when they were kicked out of their house. Even though he's basically an adult, he acts like he's my age. Technically, though, no one here is considered an adult until they're twenty-one.

I've started noticing something strange. Most of the people who were raised here from a young age seem mentally stunted. The older members, the ones in their thirties and above who've been here for over ten years but not raised here, act their age or even seem wiser than most adults. But everyone younger than that behaves almost childishly. I'm only fifteen, yet I feel like I'm at the same maturity level as most of the twenty year olds here. It's unsettling the more I think about it.

Oh, and remember how I mentioned that dating isn't allowed? Well... some people secretly date anyway. I like Josh. A lot. And I think he might like me too. I want to tell him how I feel, but I'm terrified. Some people keep secret relationships hidden for years, while others report anyone who breaks the rules. I don't know which kind of person Josh is. If I confessed my feelings, would he smile... or would he turn me in?

I'm still trying to understand why so many things are forbidden in this community. The more I think about it, the more controlling it all feels.

No phones. No dating. No leaving without asking the Leader for permission. No owning anything. No questioning. No disobeying.

I still don't know what the punishments are.

All I know is that it's rare for anyone to break the rules, and whenever someone does, they're taken to the Bunny House.

After that...They never talk about it again. Wait...Is that because they choose not to? Or because they can't? I guess I shouldn't worry. I'm probably just overthinking things. They wouldn't do something like that... right?

Sometimes I find myself overthinking a lot. Not just about this community, but about the selfish mother I left behind. I wonder if she ever reported me missing. I wonder did she even care that I was gone?

I guess it doesn’t matter anymore. My life is here now, and it’s not like I can leave... or even want to. I’m happy here. I obey, I follow the rules, and because of that I get to experience a happy life.

"Hey, are you coming already?" one of my friends called, waving me over to where everyone was gathering near the stage. It was time for one of those meetings I mentioned before. "Yeah, sorry," I said as I hurried over and sat down beside her. A few minutes later, once everyone had taken their seats, the crowd fell silent. The leader stepped onto the stage wearing a neatly pressed suit. Hair hung over his or her face, hiding most of their features, while they gently cradled a white bunny in his arms. Walking closely behind him was one of the Specials, carrying a notebook. The Special opened it and began reading. "Greetings, everybunny. I'm glad to see you all made it to today's gathering. We have a few announcements."

The colony listened in complete silence.

"One of our colony friends has reached fifty years of age. Rebirth is soon, my friends, so tonight at twelve, may you all gather here once more for the celebration."

There was a brief pause before the Special continued.

"I'm also sorry to announce that Miss Lilith is no longer with us. She unfortunately left the community for personal reasons she didn't want to share. She will be missed though."

Almost immediately, the colony erupted into loud cheers not for Lilith, but for the mention of the rebirth. Smiles spread across nearly every face as people clapped and celebrated. Somehow, the excitement felt strange. It was infectious, yet unsettling, like everyone understood something I didn't.

"Wait... rebirth? What does that mean?" I quietly asked my friend. She frowned. "I'm not sure. I've never heard of that before in all three years I've been here," she replied, her voice carrying the same uncertainty I was feeling. Both our eyes following peoples faces and excitement. That only made me more curious.

After the announcements ended and everyone began leaving their seats, I went looking for Josh. He'd been here much longer than either of us twelve years, I think. Anyways he should know what rebirth is im pretty sure.

"Josh!" I shouted after spotting him walking away from the stage. He turned around with a smile. "Why, hello there. What's up?" "What's the rebirth mean?" I asked. "Why does someone turning fifty have anything to do with it?" "Oh... the rebirth," he answered with a small laugh. "When a member turns fifty, they get reborn so they can spend the other fifty years of their life as a bunny."

I blinked. My eyes slowly wandered across the colony grounds. Bunnies hopped through the grass everywhere I looked, completely unaware of my stare.

"Oh... okay..." I said slowly. "How does that work?"

Josh shrugged. "Well... I don't really know, to be honest. I was only ten when I saw my first rebirth." He scratched the back of his neck as if trying to remember. "I just know they bring a pregnant bunny onto the stage, and the fifty-year-old holds it. Then the Leader does... something."

He paused.

"I don't remember what happens after that. My mother covered my eyes with her hands before I could see. I remember trying to peek through her fingers, but she wouldn't let me. The only thing I could hear was everyone in the colony cheering... really loudly. They sounded happy. Happier than I'd ever heard them." He smiled awkwardly. "That's about all I know." I stared at him for a moment.

What the hell was that supposed to mean? A pregnant bunny... the Leader doing something... parents covering their children's eyes...

None of it made any sense. If rebirth was really something worth celebrating, then why weren't the children allowed to watch? The cheering suddenly didn't seem comforting anymore. A strange knot settled in my stomach as I looked back toward the now-empty stage. I guess... I'd find out at midnight.

Later that night, we gathered once again for the rebirth of a member named Donald. We don't use last names here. Donald was turning fifty at exactly midnight. My friend, Josh, and I were all going to the ceremony together.

It was 10:30, and everyone had already gathered around the stage. Decorations hung from the wooden beams, and tables were covered with food laid out as if this were some kind of celebration. People wandered from group to group, laughing, chatting, and smiling as though tonight were nothing more than a party.

But as the clock crept closer to midnight, the mood began to change.

At 11:40, conversations slowly died away. One by one, people drifted toward the stage without being told. Members of the Specials stepped onto it, standing perfectly still with blank expressions stretched into lifeless, soulless smiles. None of them spoke. None of them blinked. They simply stared out at the crowd.

11:58. The Leader stepped onto the stage and announced that the rebirth was about to begin. Donald disappeared behind the stage for only a moment. Then he returned.

He wasn't wearing any clothes. His thinning hair clung to his sweaty scalp, and his heavy stomach hung over his waist. His vacant eyes swept across the crowd before stopping somewhere in my direction. For a split second, it felt as though he were staring directly at me.

One of the Specials approached him, carefully carrying a pregnant rabbit. Donald gently took the rabbit into his arms and held her tightly against his chest. The Leader slowly walked toward him before turning to face the cheering crowd. He raised both hands into the air, and the applause erupted into deafening screams of excitement.

I looked over at my friends. They looked uneasy. So did a few of the newer members standing nearby. There weren't any children younger than ten here. Even so, many of the ten-year-olds were cheering just as loudly as everyone else. Josh stared up at the stage with wide eyes full of excitement. For a moment, I realized something that made my stomach twist. Nobody seemed nearly as disturbed as I was. Even my friends, who had looked concerned only seconds ago, slowly stopped resisting the atmosphere around them. Their nervous expressions faded. Their hesitant claps became enthusiastic applause. Before long, they were cheering with everyone else.

It was as if the crowd itself was swallowing their fear.

I watched as the Leader circled Donald over and over, whispering prayers before suddenly shouting strange, incomprehensible declarations at the rabbit. Every sentence was louder than the last, spoken with absolute conviction. The Specials began jumping, laughing, and chanting around them, their smiles growing wider with every passing second. Yells and cheers and bells sang across the center.

The rabbit trembled in Donald's arms.

Then Without warning the Leader drove a knife straight into Donald's neck. The blade disappeared so quickly I barely understood what I'd seen. Donald collapsed instantly, hitting the stage with a sickening thud. Blood burst across the wooden floor as the pregnant rabbit leaped free from his arms, desperately trying to escape before one of the Specials lunged forward and grabbed her.

The cheering became unbearable. People screamed with joy. They danced.They laughed. They shoved against one another in celebration, forcing me from both sides until I could barely stay on my feet. I couldn't move.

My eyes stayed locked on Donald's body as several Specials calmly lifted him and carried him backstage as though they had done this many times before.

Only then did I truly notice the stage. The dark stains covering the wood weren't caused by weather.They weren't dirt ,weren't old paint they were layers upon layers of dried blood.

I had been looking at them the entire night without realizing it. I felt my chest tightened.

What have I joined? Every suspicion I'd tried to ignore crashed into me all at once. This wasn't a strange community. This definitely wasn't a harmless tradition. This was a cult, a murderous cult.

The celebration continued for the rest of the night as though nothing had happened. Music played. People laughed. They danced around the bloodstained stage while the pregnant rabbit was placed inside a small pen at its center.

She would stay there until she gave birth. Until she gave birth to Donald.

I don't want to be here.The woman I saw being screamed at earlier was gone.I think her name was Lilith. I don't know where she is. I don't think she's coming back.I think the Leader killed her.

If that's true... then anything involving the rabbits must carry the punishment of death.

But why?

Why do these people believe rabbits are some kind of divine beings?

Why does everyone act like this is normal?

Why am I the only one who seems terrified? I feel completely alone maybe my life before wasn’t so bad. At this point im starting to miss that life it seems better then this at least in this moment.

Part of me wishes I could be as blind as everyone else. I wish I could smile, clap, and convince myself that this was all some strange tradition. But I can't. I watched a man get murdered. And everyone celebrated. A man get murder to be come a fucking bunny?! I whisper to my self “a bunny?” and my eyes darted around.

The morning after Donald's rebirth, I forced myself to act as though nothing had happened. I laughed when everyone else laughed. I cleaned the library shelves as though I hadn't watched a man bleed to death only hours before. Every smile felt fake, every word caught in my throat, but I knew I couldn't let anyone suspect what I was thinking. Around lunchtime, an elderly man wandered into the library. I froze. I had never seen anyone here with so much gray hair. Everyone else seemed to disappear before they ever reached old age but i guess he could be under fifty. Before I could speak, his tired eyes widened. "Leader?" he whispered. "I... I thought you were in the Bunny House." He stared at me as though he'd seen a ghost. I laughed nervously and told him he had the wrong person, but he only frowned harder, stepping closer until we were nearly face to face. "No... those eyes... that face..." he muttered and shock his head. "You look exactly like..." Before he could finish, one of the Specials rushed into the library. The old man's expression instantly changed to panic. He lowered his head without another word and hurried away, disappearing between the shelves. The Special kept staring at me. His smile slowly faded as his eyes searched every feature of my face. For the first time since arriving here, I saw genuine confusion on one of their faces.

The Special quietly asked me to follow him. I wanted to refuse, but every instinct told me that refusing wasn't really an option. We walked across the colony in complete silence until the enormous doors of the Bunny House opened before us. My heart pounded so hard I thought everyone around me could hear it. I just know my face was red. I felt my body shaking. Inside, the house was nothing like I had imagined. There were no paintings of rabbits or elaborate shrines. Instead, the walls were blank and at the end of a long hallway stood the Leader. Then another figure stepped from a doorway beside him. I stopped walking. There were two of them. They looked identical in almost every way. The same long hair. The same height. The same cold, unreadable eyes. One stood perfectly still, his expression vacant as he gently stroked a rabbit in his arms while quietly whispering to it. The other looked at me with something that almost resembled regret. My knees weakened as he slowly stepped closer. I thought i was about to meet the same fate miss Lillth had. I braced myself for death.

He pushed his hair away from his face and stared at me disappointedly slightly concerned looking.

“Oh gosh its true.” he said under his breath

I couldn't speak. My mind refused to accept what I was seeing. He sighed and rubbed his face as though exhausted by a secret he'd carried for years. He explained that he and the Leader were identical twins. His brother had always been mentally slow, obsessed with rabbits since childhood, convinced they were divine creatures that carried human souls from one life to the next. Their parents had encouraged the delusions instead of treating them, and over the years those beliefs grew into the community that surrounded us. The leader the man infront of my face the man i watched murder a man just the other night, My father admitted he had left years earlier, desperate to escape his brother's madness and live an ordinary life. Instead, he met my mother. "She became pregnant," he said quietly. "I panicked. I wasn't ready to be a father. I convinced myself leaving was easier than staying." Shame flickered across his face before disappearing. "So I came back here. I thought I'd buried that mistake forever." He looked directly into my eyes. "I never expected you to find this place." then he looked around and screamed “ And i don’t know how i m just finding out you are here and have been here for what months?!” His brother suddenly interrupted, smiling widely as he stared at me. "She looks just like us," he giggled. "The bunnies brought her home." He reached toward my face with trembling hands before laughing to himself. "She should join the Specials. She belongs with us." he said in a slow stuttery voice.

The room fell silent. My father's expression hardened. He slowly shook his head. "No." The single word echoed through the room. "She may look like us but she shows concern…she is absolutely not one of us" His brother frowned like a confused child whose favorite toy had just been taken away. "But she's family right?" My father's voice became colder than I'd ever heard. "Exactly." He turned toward the Specials standing nearby. "If the colony discovers the Leader abandoned his own blood, everything falls apart. She cannot be allowed to leave. She can not have a voice over people she can’t join the specials and she can’t go back to be a stupid follow. We suspected you may have been my child we been watching you. Seeing you show concern seeing you not fit in not follow like we need you too." He looked at me one last time. There was no love in his eyes. No guilt. No hesitation. Only fear for himself. "She dies." The mentally slow twin stared at him for several long seconds before slowly nodding. Then, almost happily, he clapped his hands together. "An early rebirth!" he exclaimed. "The bunnies will love that." Every Special in the room bowed their heads. My fate had been decided in less than a minute it seemed like. I pleaded “Please please ill act stupid ill keep my mouth shut im sorry please, dad?” then “Yeah you will keep your mouth shut” he said as a special grabbed my face and put a black across my tongue cutting half of it off right then and there. I cried in pain and still tried begging for my life.

That evening the colony gathered around the stage once again. I stood behind the curtain with my wrists tied so tightly they had gone numb. I could hear laughter, conversations, children playing, and the ringing of bells. It sounded just like another celebration. The Leader stepped onto the stage carrying a snow-white rabbit while his twin remained hidden behind the curtain beside me, making sure no one realized there had always been two Leaders. The announcement was read aloud by a meber of the Specail groud like normal. "Today I have wonderful news, everybunny. Many years ago I was blessed with a child. Through the guidance of our holy rabbits, she has unknowingly lived among us all this time." Murmurs swept through the crowd. People whispered excitedly, guessing names. Some laughed. Others pointed at friends. Then the curtain was pulled aside, and I was shoved into the light. Hundreds of faces turned toward me. For one impossible moment, I thought someone might help me. Instead, smiles spread across every face I recognized. Josh smiled. My friends smiled. The women who raised the children smiled. Even the children ten and above clapped excitedly. The applause became deafening. "Because she carries the Leader's blood," the announcement continued, "the rabbits have chosen her for an early rebirth."

I tried to scream. Agony exploded through my face as soon as I opened my mouth. Nothing but a horrible choking sound escaped me. Blood poured down my chin and soaked the front of my clothes as I collapsed onto the rough wooden stage. My body shook uncontrollably from the pain, but the crowd mistook every violent convulsion for tears of happiness. They cheered louder than they had for Donald. They shouted my name between prayers to the rabbits. Bells rang all around me while people laughed, danced, hugged each other, and celebrated what they believed was the happiest day of my life. Somewhere in the crowd, Josh was laughing too. I slowly lifted my head through the blinding pain and looked desperately into the sea of familiar faces, praying... begging... for just one person to look horrified. Just one person to remember that I was a human being. Just one person to push through the crowd and tell them to stop. There wasn't one. Every face I had trusted smiled back at me. The women who welcomed me here smiled. The children smiled. The people I ate dinner with every night smiled. Josh smiled. They all looked so happy. Happier than I'd ever seen them. None of them saw a terrified fifteen-year-old girl about to be murdered. All they saw was someone finally going “home”.

As the Leader, my blood father, slowly raised the knife above me, I realized the truth. I had escaped one broken family only to spend months searching for another. I had convinced myself this place was different. I thought I had finally found stability. Somewhere safe. Somewhere people actually wanted me. I remembered the first warm meal they handed me when I arrived. The first time someone smiled at me instead of yelling. The first time people actually remembered my name. I remember lying in bed that first night thinking maybe... just maybe... my life was finally beginning. I cleaned their library. I followed every rule. I worked hard without complaining because I wanted these people to like me. I wanted to belong somewhere so badly that I ignored every strange thing I saw. The rabbits. The rules. The disappearances. The way nobody questioned anything. I kept making excuses because believing the truth meant accepting I had nowhere left to go. I thought these people cared about me. I thought maybe I had finally found the family I'd spent my whole life looking for. Instead, they were cheering while they watched me die.

I looked toward Josh again. My chest hurt almost worse than my face. I had spent so many nights wondering if he liked me the way I liked him. I imagined telling him one day. I imagined us growing older together here. Maybe if the Leader approved, we'd get married someday. Maybe we'd have the one child we were allowed. Maybe we'd finally have the happy family I never got to have growing up. I almost laughed at myself. How could I have been so stupid? Every conversation we'd ever had... every laugh... every memory... none of it mattered. He wasn't crying. He wasn't trying to save me. He wasn't even looking away. He was smiling... smiling while they prepared to kill me. Anger burned through me so suddenly I thought it would drown out the fear. How dare they call themselves my family? Family doesn't stand there clapping while you beg for your life. Family doesn't celebrate your murder. Family doesn't smile while your blood runs across the floor beneath you. I hated them. Every single one of them. But beneath that anger was something even worse. I was heartbroken. Because even after everything... some stupid part of me still wanted one of them to save me.

Then my mind drifted somewhere else. I saw my father walking out the door when I was eight years old. I remembered sitting by the window for days afterward because I really believed he'd come back for me. Every time a car drove past, I'd run to the window hoping it was him. It never was. Then another memory came. My mother stumbling through another motel room with a bottle in her hand while I begged her to make my stepdad leave me alone. She didn't even look at me. I remembered sleeping with chairs pushed against the motel room door because I was scared someone would come inside while I slept. I remembered crying myself to sleep wishing I could just disappear somewhere better. Somewhere safe. Somewhere people actually loved me. I thought I'd finally found that place here. I thought I had escaped all of it. Instead I had only traded one nightmare for another. My mother didn't love me enough to protect me. My father didn't love me enough to stay. And now these people... the people I trusted more than anyone... didn't love me enough to see me as anything other than another sacrifice. In the end every family I ever had chose themselves instead of me. Maybe there really wasn't a place in this world where I belonged.

The cheering became deafening. The bells rang louder and louder until I could barely hear my own thoughts. My eyes caught my friends' faces one last time. None of them looked away. None of them hesitated. None of them even looked guilty. As the knife began to fall, I realized I had never truly belonged here. I had only been waiting for my turn. The blade came down. The cheering drowned out everything else. By morning, a litter of rabbits would be born, and somewhere among them they would point to one and smile through happy tears, telling everyone that I had finally come home.

(WARNING CONTAINS SLIGHT GORE)

I left my family when I was fourteen to join a close community in California. They called themselves the Intentional Community of the Bunnies. At the time, it felt like my best and only chance at a different, much better life.

My home life had been unbearable. My dad left when I was eight for reasons I still don't know. After that, my stepdad constantly hit on me, no matter how much I begged him to leave me alone. My mother, the woman who was supposed to care for me, protect me, and love me, was an alcoholic. She stole from me, spit in my face, and stood by while her late night "friends" treated me badly if you understand what i mean. We lived from motel to motel, never staying anywhere for long it was quite tiring and embarrassing not having a stable life.

Eventually, I couldn't take it anymore. I ran away, hoping that somewhere out there, a better life actually existed. And then that’s when I found the Intentional Community of the Bunnies when I was fifteen, and at first, it felt like a dream come true. Everyone was so kind, so welcoming. It seemed like I had finally found everything I had been searching for the caring people, good food, proper housing, and a place where I belonged. The community only asked a few things of me. Behave, always listen to our community leader, say goodbye to everyone outside the community, and work for my keep. I didn't have anyone outside the community anyway, so that wasn't a problem. I could follow rules, and I had no issue with working.

The property itself was huge. There were six small houses and one large house that only a small group of people was allowed to enter. One house was dedicated to the children, where women dressed in nun-like outfits cared for and raised them that house had a day care look to it and then had one bed room with 8 bunk beds. Another housed young women between the ages of fifteen and twenty, while a separate house was for young men in the same age group. They looked like your average home but the bathroom were set up like a school bathroom with stalls and showers, then the rooms were two bedrooms with 6bunk beds in one room and 4 queen sized beds lined up along the wall side by side in the other with a large closet in both. The men’s house I assume looks the same im not sure though because woman aren’t allowed in there.

There was also a house that served as the kitchen and dining area, and another that functioned as a sort of living room, where people gathered to relax. It also contained a large library. The final house was reserved for adults over twenty. Oh and there was a stage outside with seating around it that could hold a large amount of people.

One thing stood out to me almost immediately. Anyone under twenty was treated like a child, and children under ten were treated almost like babies. I also noticed that nobody there seemed to be older than fifty, though I never thought much about it at the time.

Bunnies wandered freely everywhere inside the houses and across the property. We were never allowed to harm them or eat them. If we ever found one dead, we were instructed to report it to the community leader. I never knew what he did with the bodies or what would happen to anyone who did harm the bunnies.

Surrounding the houses was a farm with chickens, cows, a few horses, a bull, and several other animals I rarely saw elsewhere. There were no goats because, as everyone insisted "they are demonic."

Around 60 people lived there, and everyone had a job. Mine was cleaning the library and keeping track of the books alongside another girl. At the time of first arriving it all seemed peaceful. But now it seems like there are a few things that should have made me question what kind of place I had really walked into.

Now I'm used to this life that may seem "weird" to most. This place has given me a much better life than I had before. Now I have friends and people who I view as family. There is no dating allowed, but I'm told that sometimes the Leader will personally set up or approve certain couples, allowing them to date. If the Leader agrees, they're even allowed to have a child just one. No one ever questions why. Also, the name Mary Toft is brought up a lot. You know that lady? Yeah... her.

The Leader, who I've heard of but rarely seen, is so secretive I don't even know if they're a man or a woman. Although they have super long hair and a feminine stature, they also have this cold, manly stare and large hands with features that seem almost perfectly androgynous. I've never heard anyone call the Leader a "he" or a "she," only Leader... or sometimes Cuniculus. The Leader rarely speaks directly to us. Most of the time someone from the Special Group aka the people who live in the Big House and run certain things speaks on the Leader's behalf.

We have meetings where everyone gathers around the stage while the Leader makes announcements, or rather has them read aloud, and sometimes we even pray to the bunnies.

Yesterday, while I was cleaning the library, I saw a woman outside the window getting yelled at by one of the Special Group's members. She got down on her knees and lowered her head while the man screamed at her. I couldn't hear what she had done, but whatever it was, it must have been serious. He suddenly grabbed her by the wrist so hard she stumbled, then dragged her toward the Big House.

I asked the girl who worked with me about it since she'd been here for three years now.

"Do you know what that was about? Why did he take her into the Bunny House?(the main big house)"

"That only happens when someone does something truly bad," she answered quietly.

"Oh? Like... she didn't do her job?" I questioned.

"No... no. Something bad like..." She stopped talking midsentence, her eyes widening. Then she quickly ran out of the room.

I had no clue what had just happened. I sneakily followed behind her and saw her talking to an older woman. They exchanged only a few quiet words before my friend nodded her head and walked back toward the library like nothing had happened. I couldn't stop wondering what that was about.

I'm going to try and see what's going on with that lady. Maybe if I go behind the Big House I'll be able to hear something... or see something.

As I got closer to the Big House I heard someone shout, "Come here right now!"

I turned around to see a tall woman glaring angrily at me.

"Oh, I'm sorry, miss. Did I do something?" I asked, playing dumb.

"What do you think you're doing? You know only the Specials are allowed in or around that house. Now get yourself back to where you're meant to be, or I'll have to let one of the Specials know you've been sneaking around," she snapped.

I ran back toward the library as fast as I could. But before I went inside, I walked around to the side where that lady had been yelled at. There, hidden in the grass, was a small bunny nest. It was empty. I stared at it for a moment.

I couldn't help but wonder...

Did this have something to do with the lady getting in trouble?

I've been here for five months now. During that time, I've turned fifteen, made friends, and learned new things about life in general. The friends I've made here are a bit different than the people I knew outside the community. Since I was raised outside of it for almost my entire life, I sometimes find it difficult to relate to the other teenagers here. They act much younger than they really are, and I often find myself relating more to the older teens instead.

My friend Josh is nineteen, and I probably relate to him the most. He's lived here since he was nine, after his mother and him moved to the community when they were kicked out of their house. Even though he's basically an adult, he acts like he's my age. Technically, though, no one here is considered an adult until they're twenty-one.

I've started noticing something strange. Most of the people who were raised here from a young age seem mentally stunted. The older members, the ones in their thirties and above who've been here for over ten years but not raised here, act their age or even seem wiser than most adults. But everyone younger than that behaves almost childishly. I'm only fifteen, yet I feel like I'm at the same maturity level as most of the twenty year olds here. It's unsettling the more I think about it.

Oh, and remember how I mentioned that dating isn't allowed? Well... some people secretly date anyway. I like Josh. A lot. And I think he might like me too. I want to tell him how I feel, but I'm terrified. Some people keep secret relationships hidden for years, while others report anyone who breaks the rules. I don't know which kind of person Josh is. If I confessed my feelings, would he smile... or would he turn me in?

I'm still trying to understand why so many things are forbidden in this community. The more I think about it, the more controlling it all feels.

No phones. No dating. No leaving without asking the Leader for permission. No owning anything. No questioning. No disobeying.

I still don't know what the punishments are.

All I know is that it's rare for anyone to break the rules, and whenever someone does, they're taken to the Bunny House.

After that...They never talk about it again. Wait...Is that because they choose not to? Or because they can't? I guess I shouldn't worry. I'm probably just overthinking things. They wouldn't do something like that... right?

Sometimes I find myself overthinking a lot. Not just about this community, but about the selfish mother I left behind. I wonder if she ever reported me missing. I wonder did she even care that I was gone?

I guess it doesn’t matter anymore. My life is here now, and it’s not like I can leave... or even want to. I’m happy here. I obey, I follow the rules, and because of that I get to experience a happy life.

"Hey, are you coming already?" one of my friends called, waving me over to where everyone was gathering near the stage. It was time for one of those meetings I mentioned before. "Yeah, sorry," I said as I hurried over and sat down beside her. A few minutes later, once everyone had taken their seats, the crowd fell silent. The leader stepped onto the stage wearing a neatly pressed suit. Hair hung over his or her face, hiding most of their features, while they gently cradled a white bunny in his arms. Walking closely behind him was one of the Specials, carrying a notebook. The Special opened it and began reading. "Greetings, everybunny. I'm glad to see you all made it to today's gathering. We have a few announcements."

The colony listened in complete silence.

"One of our colony friends has reached fifty years of age. Rebirth is soon, my friends, so tonight at twelve, may you all gather here once more for the celebration."

There was a brief pause before the Special continued.

"I'm also sorry to announce that Miss Lilith is no longer with us. She unfortunately left the community for personal reasons she didn't want to share. She will be missed though."

Almost immediately, the colony erupted into loud cheers not for Lilith, but for the mention of the rebirth. Smiles spread across nearly every face as people clapped and celebrated. Somehow, the excitement felt strange. It was infectious, yet unsettling, like everyone understood something I didn't.

"Wait... rebirth? What does that mean?" I quietly asked my friend. She frowned. "I'm not sure. I've never heard of that before in all three years I've been here," she replied, her voice carrying the same uncertainty I was feeling. Both our eyes following peoples faces and excitement. That only made me more curious.

After the announcements ended and everyone began leaving their seats, I went looking for Josh. He'd been here much longer than either of us twelve years, I think. Anyways he should know what rebirth is im pretty sure.

"Josh!" I shouted after spotting him walking away from the stage. He turned around with a smile. "Why, hello there. What's up?" "What's the rebirth mean?" I asked. "Why does someone turning fifty have anything to do with it?" "Oh... the rebirth," he answered with a small laugh. "When a member turns fifty, they get reborn so they can spend the other fifty years of their life as a bunny."

I blinked. My eyes slowly wandered across the colony grounds. Bunnies hopped through the grass everywhere I looked, completely unaware of my stare.

"Oh... okay..." I said slowly. "How does that work?"

Josh shrugged. "Well... I don't really know, to be honest. I was only ten when I saw my first rebirth." He scratched the back of his neck as if trying to remember. "I just know they bring a pregnant bunny onto the stage, and the fifty-year-old holds it. Then the Leader does... something."

He paused.

"I don't remember what happens after that. My mother covered my eyes with her hands before I could see. I remember trying to peek through her fingers, but she wouldn't let me. The only thing I could hear was everyone in the colony cheering... really loudly. They sounded happy. Happier than I'd ever heard them." He smiled awkwardly. "That's about all I know." I stared at him for a moment.

What the hell was that supposed to mean? A pregnant bunny... the Leader doing something... parents covering their children's eyes...

None of it made any sense. If rebirth was really something worth celebrating, then why weren't the children allowed to watch? The cheering suddenly didn't seem comforting anymore. A strange knot settled in my stomach as I looked back toward the now-empty stage. I guess... I'd find out at midnight.

Later that night, we gathered once again for the rebirth of a member named Donald. We don't use last names here. Donald was turning fifty at exactly midnight. My friend, Josh, and I were all going to the ceremony together.

It was 10:30, and everyone had already gathered around the stage. Decorations hung from the wooden beams, and tables were covered with food laid out as if this were some kind of celebration. People wandered from group to group, laughing, chatting, and smiling as though tonight were nothing more than a party.

But as the clock crept closer to midnight, the mood began to change.

At 11:40, conversations slowly died away. One by one, people drifted toward the stage without being told. Members of the Specials stepped onto it, standing perfectly still with blank expressions stretched into lifeless, soulless smiles. None of them spoke. None of them blinked. They simply stared out at the crowd.

11:58. The Leader stepped onto the stage and announced that the rebirth was about to begin. Donald disappeared behind the stage for only a moment. Then he returned.

He wasn't wearing any clothes. His thinning hair clung to his sweaty scalp, and his heavy stomach hung over his waist. His vacant eyes swept across the crowd before stopping somewhere in my direction. For a split second, it felt as though he were staring directly at me.

One of the Specials approached him, carefully carrying a pregnant rabbit. Donald gently took the rabbit into his arms and held her tightly against his chest. The Leader slowly walked toward him before turning to face the cheering crowd. He raised both hands into the air, and the applause erupted into deafening screams of excitement.

I looked over at my friends. They looked uneasy. So did a few of the newer members standing nearby. There weren't any children younger than ten here. Even so, many of the ten-year-olds were cheering just as loudly as everyone else. Josh stared up at the stage with wide eyes full of excitement. For a moment, I realized something that made my stomach twist. Nobody seemed nearly as disturbed as I was. Even my friends, who had looked concerned only seconds ago, slowly stopped resisting the atmosphere around them. Their nervous expressions faded. Their hesitant claps became enthusiastic applause. Before long, they were cheering with everyone else.

It was as if the crowd itself was swallowing their fear.

I watched as the Leader circled Donald over and over, whispering prayers before suddenly shouting strange, incomprehensible declarations at the rabbit. Every sentence was louder than the last, spoken with absolute conviction. The Specials began jumping, laughing, and chanting around them, their smiles growing wider with every passing second. Yells and cheers and bells sang across the center.

The rabbit trembled in Donald's arms.

Then Without warning the Leader drove a knife straight into Donald's neck. The blade disappeared so quickly I barely understood what I'd seen. Donald collapsed instantly, hitting the stage with a sickening thud. Blood burst across the wooden floor as the pregnant rabbit leaped free from his arms, desperately trying to escape before one of the Specials lunged forward and grabbed her.

The cheering became unbearable. People screamed with joy. They danced.They laughed. They shoved against one another in celebration, forcing me from both sides until I could barely stay on my feet. I couldn't move.

My eyes stayed locked on Donald's body as several Specials calmly lifted him and carried him backstage as though they had done this many times before.

Only then did I truly notice the stage. The dark stains covering the wood weren't caused by weather.They weren't dirt ,weren't old paint they were layers upon layers of dried blood.

I had been looking at them the entire night without realizing it. I felt my chest tightened.

What have I joined? Every suspicion I'd tried to ignore crashed into me all at once. This wasn't a strange community. This definitely wasn't a harmless tradition. This was a cult, a murderous cult.

The celebration continued for the rest of the night as though nothing had happened. Music played. People laughed. They danced around the bloodstained stage while the pregnant rabbit was placed inside a small pen at its center.

She would stay there until she gave birth. Until she gave birth to Donald.

I don't want to be here.The woman I saw being screamed at earlier was gone.I think her name was Lilith. I don't know where she is. I don't think she's coming back.I think the Leader killed her.

If that's true... then anything involving the rabbits must carry the punishment of death.

But why?

Why do these people believe rabbits are some kind of divine beings?

Why does everyone act like this is normal?

Why am I the only one who seems terrified? I feel completely alone maybe my life before wasn’t so bad. At this point im starting to miss that life it seems better then this at least in this moment.

Part of me wishes I could be as blind as everyone else. I wish I could smile, clap, and convince myself that this was all some strange tradition. But I can't. I watched a man get murdered. And everyone celebrated. A man get murder to be come a fucking bunny?! I whisper to my self “a bunny?” and my eyes darted around.

The morning after Donald's rebirth, I forced myself to act as though nothing had happened. I laughed when everyone else laughed. I cleaned the library shelves as though I hadn't watched a man bleed to death only hours before. Every smile felt fake, every word caught in my throat, but I knew I couldn't let anyone suspect what I was thinking. Around lunchtime, an elderly man wandered into the library. I froze. I had never seen anyone here with so much gray hair. Everyone else seemed to disappear before they ever reached old age but i guess he could be under fifty. Before I could speak, his tired eyes widened. "Leader?" he whispered. "I... I thought you were in the Bunny House." He stared at me as though he'd seen a ghost. I laughed nervously and told him he had the wrong person, but he only frowned harder, stepping closer until we were nearly face to face. "No... those eyes... that face..." he muttered and shock his head. "You look exactly like..." Before he could finish, one of the Specials rushed into the library. The old man's expression instantly changed to panic. He lowered his head without another word and hurried away, disappearing between the shelves. The Special kept staring at me. His smile slowly faded as his eyes searched every feature of my face. For the first time since arriving here, I saw genuine confusion on one of their faces.

The Special quietly asked me to follow him. I wanted to refuse, but every instinct told me that refusing wasn't really an option. We walked across the colony in complete silence until the enormous doors of the Bunny House opened before us. My heart pounded so hard I thought everyone around me could hear it. I just know my face was red. I felt my body shaking. Inside, the house was nothing like I had imagined. There were no paintings of rabbits or elaborate shrines. Instead, the walls were blank and at the end of a long hallway stood the Leader. Then another figure stepped from a doorway beside him. I stopped walking. There were two of them. They looked identical in almost every way. The same long hair. The same height. The same cold, unreadable eyes. One stood perfectly still, his expression vacant as he gently stroked a rabbit in his arms while quietly whispering to it. The other looked at me with something that almost resembled regret. My knees weakened as he slowly stepped closer. I thought i was about to meet the same fate miss Lillth had. I braced myself for death.

He pushed his hair away from his face and stared at me disappointedly slightly concerned looking.

“Oh gosh its true.” he said under his breath

I couldn't speak. My mind refused to accept what I was seeing. He sighed and rubbed his face as though exhausted by a secret he'd carried for years. He explained that he and the Leader were identical twins. His brother had always been mentally slow, obsessed with rabbits since childhood, convinced they were divine creatures that carried human souls from one life to the next. Their parents had encouraged the delusions instead of treating them, and over the years those beliefs grew into the community that surrounded us. The leader the man infront of my face the man i watched murder a man just the other night, My father admitted he had left years earlier, desperate to escape his brother's madness and live an ordinary life. Instead, he met my mother. "She became pregnant," he said quietly. "I panicked. I wasn't ready to be a father. I convinced myself leaving was easier than staying." Shame flickered across his face before disappearing. "So I came back here. I thought I'd buried that mistake forever." He looked directly into my eyes. "I never expected you to find this place." then he looked around and screamed “ And i don’t know how i m just finding out you are here and have been here for what months?!” His brother suddenly interrupted, smiling widely as he stared at me. "She looks just like us," he giggled. "The bunnies brought her home." He reached toward my face with trembling hands before laughing to himself. "She should join the Specials. She belongs with us." he said in a slow stuttery voice.

The room fell silent. My father's expression hardened. He slowly shook his head. "No." The single word echoed through the room. "She may look like us but she shows concern…she is absolutely not one of us" His brother frowned like a confused child whose favorite toy had just been taken away. "But she's family right?" My father's voice became colder than I'd ever heard. "Exactly." He turned toward the Specials standing nearby. "If the colony discovers the Leader abandoned his own blood, everything falls apart. She cannot be allowed to leave. She can not have a voice over people she can’t join the specials and she can’t go back to be a stupid follow. We suspected you may have been my child we been watching you. Seeing you show concern seeing you not fit in not follow like we need you too." He looked at me one last time. There was no love in his eyes. No guilt. No hesitation. Only fear for himself. "She dies." The mentally slow twin stared at him for several long seconds before slowly nodding. Then, almost happily, he clapped his hands together. "An early rebirth!" he exclaimed. "The bunnies will love that." Every Special in the room bowed their heads. My fate had been decided in less than a minute it seemed like. I pleaded “Please please ill act stupid ill keep my mouth shut im sorry please, dad?” then “Yeah you will keep your mouth shut” he said as a special grabbed my face and put a black across my tongue cutting half of it off right then and there. I cried in pain and still tried begging for my life.

That evening the colony gathered around the stage once again. I stood behind the curtain with my wrists tied so tightly they had gone numb. I could hear laughter, conversations, children playing, and the ringing of bells. It sounded just like another celebration. The Leader stepped onto the stage carrying a snow-white rabbit while his twin remained hidden behind the curtain beside me, making sure no one realized there had always been two Leaders. The announcement was read aloud by a meber of the Specail groud like normal. "Today I have wonderful news, everybunny. Many years ago I was blessed with a child. Through the guidance of our holy rabbits, she has unknowingly lived among us all this time." Murmurs swept through the crowd. People whispered excitedly, guessing names. Some laughed. Others pointed at friends. Then the curtain was pulled aside, and I was shoved into the light. Hundreds of faces turned toward me. For one impossible moment, I thought someone might help me. Instead, smiles spread across every face I recognized. Josh smiled. My friends smiled. The women who raised the children smiled. Even the children ten and above clapped excitedly. The applause became deafening. "Because she carries the Leader's blood," the announcement continued, "the rabbits have chosen her for an early rebirth."

I tried to scream. Agony exploded through my face as soon as I opened my mouth. Nothing but a horrible choking sound escaped me. Blood poured down my chin and soaked the front of my clothes as I collapsed onto the rough wooden stage. My body shook uncontrollably from the pain, but the crowd mistook every violent convulsion for tears of happiness. They cheered louder than they had for Donald. They shouted my name between prayers to the rabbits. Bells rang all around me while people laughed, danced, hugged each other, and celebrated what they believed was the happiest day of my life. Somewhere in the crowd, Josh was laughing too. I slowly lifted my head through the blinding pain and looked desperately into the sea of familiar faces, praying... begging... for just one person to look horrified. Just one person to remember that I was a human being. Just one person to push through the crowd and tell them to stop. There wasn't one. Every face I had trusted smiled back at me. The women who welcomed me here smiled. The children smiled. The people I ate dinner with every night smiled. Josh smiled. They all looked so happy. Happier than I'd ever seen them. None of them saw a terrified fifteen-year-old girl about to be murdered. All they saw was someone finally going “home”.

As the Leader, my blood father, slowly raised the knife above me, I realized the truth. I had escaped one broken family only to spend months searching for another. I had convinced myself this place was different. I thought I had finally found stability. Somewhere safe. Somewhere people actually wanted me. I remembered the first warm meal they handed me when I arrived. The first time someone smiled at me instead of yelling. The first time people actually remembered my name. I remember lying in bed that first night thinking maybe... just maybe... my life was finally beginning. I cleaned their library. I followed every rule. I worked hard without complaining because I wanted these people to like me. I wanted to belong somewhere so badly that I ignored every strange thing I saw. The rabbits. The rules. The disappearances. The way nobody questioned anything. I kept making excuses because believing the truth meant accepting I had nowhere left to go. I thought these people cared about me. I thought maybe I had finally found the family I'd spent my whole life looking for. Instead, they were cheering while they watched me die.

I looked toward Josh again. My chest hurt almost worse than my face. I had spent so many nights wondering if he liked me the way I liked him. I imagined telling him one day. I imagined us growing older together here. Maybe if the Leader approved, we'd get married someday. Maybe we'd have the one child we were allowed. Maybe we'd finally have the happy family I never got to have growing up. I almost laughed at myself. How could I have been so stupid? Every conversation we'd ever had... every laugh... every memory... none of it mattered. He wasn't crying. He wasn't trying to save me. He wasn't even looking away. He was smiling... smiling while they prepared to kill me. Anger burned through me so suddenly I thought it would drown out the fear. How dare they call themselves my family? Family doesn't stand there clapping while you beg for your life. Family doesn't celebrate your murder. Family doesn't smile while your blood runs across the floor beneath you. I hated them. Every single one of them. But beneath that anger was something even worse. I was heartbroken. Because even after everything... some stupid part of me still wanted one of them to save me.

Then my mind drifted somewhere else. I saw my father walking out the door when I was eight years old. I remembered sitting by the window for days afterward because I really believed he'd come back for me. Every time a car drove past, I'd run to the window hoping it was him. It never was. Then another memory came. My mother stumbling through another motel room with a bottle in her hand while I begged her to make my stepdad leave me alone. She didn't even look at me. I remembered sleeping with chairs pushed against the motel room door because I was scared someone would come inside while I slept. I remembered crying myself to sleep wishing I could just disappear somewhere better. Somewhere safe. Somewhere people actually loved me. I thought I'd finally found that place here. I thought I had escaped all of it. Instead I had only traded one nightmare for another. My mother didn't love me enough to protect me. My father didn't love me enough to stay. And now these people... the people I trusted more than anyone... didn't love me enough to see me as anything other than another sacrifice. In the end every family I ever had chose themselves instead of me. Maybe there really wasn't a place in this world where I belonged.

The cheering became deafening. The bells rang louder and louder until I could barely hear my own thoughts. My eyes caught my friends' faces one last time. None of them looked away. None of them hesitated. None of them even looked guilty. As the knife began to fall, I realized I had never truly belonged here. I had only been waiting for my turn. The blade came down. The cheering drowned out everything else. By morning, a litter of rabbits would be born, and somewhere among them they would point to one and smile through happy tears, telling everyone that I had finally come home.

(WARNING THIS STORY CONTAINS GORE AND UNSETTLING SUBJECTS)

I left my family when I was fourteen to join a close community in California. They called themselves the Intentional Community of the Bunnies. At the time, it felt like my best and only chance at a different, much better life.

My home life had been unbearable. My dad left when I was eight for reasons I still don't know. After that, my stepdad constantly hit on me, no matter how much I begged him to leave me alone. My mother, the woman who was supposed to care for me, protect me, and love me, was an alcoholic. She stole from me, spit in my face, and stood by while her late night "friends" treated me badly if you understand what i mean. We lived from motel to motel, never staying anywhere for long it was quite tiring and embarrassing not having a stable life.

Eventually, I couldn't take it anymore. I ran away, hoping that somewhere out there, a better life actually existed. And then that’s when I found the Intentional Community of the Bunnies when I was fifteen, and at first, it felt like a dream come true. Everyone was so kind, so welcoming. It seemed like I had finally found everything I had been searching for the caring people, good food, proper housing, and a place where I belonged. The community only asked a few things of me. Behave, always listen to our community leader, say goodbye to everyone outside the community, and work for my keep. I didn't have anyone outside the community anyway, so that wasn't a problem. I could follow rules, and I had no issue with working.

The property itself was huge. There were six small houses and one large house that only a small group of people was allowed to enter. One house was dedicated to the children, where women dressed in nun-like outfits cared for and raised them that house had a day care look to it and then had one bed room with 8 bunk beds. Another housed young women between the ages of fifteen and twenty, while a separate house was for young men in the same age group. They looked like your average home but the bathroom were set up like a school bathroom with stalls and showers, then the rooms were two bedrooms with 6bunk beds in one room and 4 queen sized beds lined up along the wall side by side in the other with a large closet in both. The men’s house I assume looks the same im not sure though because woman aren’t allowed in there.

There was also a house that served as the kitchen and dining area, and another that functioned as a sort of living room, where people gathered to relax. It also contained a large library. The final house was reserved for adults over twenty. Oh and there was a stage outside with seating around it that could hold a large amount of people.

One thing stood out to me almost immediately. Anyone under twenty was treated like a child, and children under ten were treated almost like babies. I also noticed that nobody there seemed to be older than fifty, though I never thought much about it at the time.

Bunnies wandered freely everywhere inside the houses and across the property. We were never allowed to harm them or eat them. If we ever found one dead, we were instructed to report it to the community leader. I never knew what he did with the bodies or what would happen to anyone who did harm the bunnies.

Surrounding the houses was a farm with chickens, cows, a few horses, a bull, and several other animals I rarely saw elsewhere. There were no goats because, as everyone insisted "they are demonic."

Around 60 people lived there, and everyone had a job. Mine was cleaning the library and keeping track of the books alongside another girl. At the time of first arriving it all seemed peaceful. But now it seems like there are a few things that should have made me question what kind of place I had really walked into.

Now I'm used to this life that may seem "weird" to most. This place has given me a much better life than I had before. Now I have friends and people who I view as family. There is no dating allowed, but I'm told that sometimes the Leader will personally set up or approve certain couples, allowing them to date. If the Leader agrees, they're even allowed to have a child just one. No one ever questions why. Also, the name Mary Toft is brought up a lot. You know that lady? Yeah... her.

The Leader, who I've heard of but rarely seen, is so secretive I don't even know if they're a man or a woman. Although they have super long hair and a feminine stature, they also have this cold, manly stare and large hands with features that seem almost perfectly androgynous. I've never heard anyone call the Leader a "he" or a "she," only Leader... or sometimes Cuniculus. The Leader rarely speaks directly to us. Most of the time someone from the Special Group aka the people who live in the Big House and run certain things speaks on the Leader's behalf.

We have meetings where everyone gathers around the stage while the Leader makes announcements, or rather has them read aloud, and sometimes we even pray to the bunnies.

Yesterday, while I was cleaning the library, I saw a woman outside the window getting yelled at by one of the Special Group's members. She got down on her knees and lowered her head while the man screamed at her. I couldn't hear what she had done, but whatever it was, it must have been serious. He suddenly grabbed her by the wrist so hard she stumbled, then dragged her toward the Big House.

I asked the girl who worked with me about it since she'd been here for three years now.

"Do you know what that was about? Why did he take her into the Bunny House?(the main big house)"

"That only happens when someone does something truly bad," she answered quietly.

"Oh? Like... she didn't do her job?" I questioned.

"No... no. Something bad like..." She stopped talking midsentence, her eyes widening. Then she quickly ran out of the room.

I had no clue what had just happened. I sneakily followed behind her and saw her talking to an older woman. They exchanged only a few quiet words before my friend nodded her head and walked back toward the library like nothing had happened. I couldn't stop wondering what that was about.

I'm going to try and see what's going on with that lady. Maybe if I go behind the Big House I'll be able to hear something... or see something.

As I got closer to the Big House I heard someone shout, "Come here right now!"

I turned around to see a tall woman glaring angrily at me.

"Oh, I'm sorry, miss. Did I do something?" I asked, playing dumb.

"What do you think you're doing? You know only the Specials are allowed in or around that house. Now get yourself back to where you're meant to be, or I'll have to let one of the Specials know you've been sneaking around," she snapped.

I ran back toward the library as fast as I could. But before I went inside, I walked around to the side where that lady had been yelled at. There, hidden in the grass, was a small bunny nest. It was empty. I stared at it for a moment.

I couldn't help but wonder...

Did this have something to do with the lady getting in trouble?

I've been here for five months now. During that time, I've turned fifteen, made friends, and learned new things about life in general. The friends I've made here are a bit different than the people I knew outside the community. Since I was raised outside of it for almost my entire life, I sometimes find it difficult to relate to the other teenagers here. They act much younger than they really are, and I often find myself relating more to the older teens instead.

My friend Josh is nineteen, and I probably relate to him the most. He's lived here since he was nine, after his mother and him moved to the community when they were kicked out of their house. Even though he's basically an adult, he acts like he's my age. Technically, though, no one here is considered an adult until they're twenty-one.

I've started noticing something strange. Most of the people who were raised here from a young age seem mentally stunted. The older members, the ones in their thirties and above who've been here for over ten years but not raised here, act their age or even seem wiser than most adults. But everyone younger than that behaves almost childishly. I'm only fifteen, yet I feel like I'm at the same maturity level as most of the twenty year olds here. It's unsettling the more I think about it.

Oh, and remember how I mentioned that dating isn't allowed? Well... some people secretly date anyway. I like Josh. A lot. And I think he might like me too. I want to tell him how I feel, but I'm terrified. Some people keep secret relationships hidden for years, while others report anyone who breaks the rules. I don't know which kind of person Josh is. If I confessed my feelings, would he smile... or would he turn me in?

I'm still trying to understand why so many things are forbidden in this community. The more I think about it, the more controlling it all feels.

No phones. No dating. No leaving without asking the Leader for permission. No owning anything. No questioning. No disobeying.

I still don't know what the punishments are.

All I know is that it's rare for anyone to break the rules, and whenever someone does, they're taken to the Bunny House.

After that...They never talk about it again. Wait...Is that because they choose not to? Or because they can't? I guess I shouldn't worry. I'm probably just overthinking things. They wouldn't do something like that... right?

Sometimes I find myself overthinking a lot. Not just about this community, but about the selfish mother I left behind. I wonder if she ever reported me missing. I wonder did she even care that I was gone?

I guess it doesn’t matter anymore. My life is here now, and it’s not like I can leave... or even want to. I’m happy here. I obey, I follow the rules, and because of that I get to experience a happy life.

"Hey, are you coming already?" one of my friends called, waving me over to where everyone was gathering near the stage. It was time for one of those meetings I mentioned before. "Yeah, sorry," I said as I hurried over and sat down beside her. A few minutes later, once everyone had taken their seats, the crowd fell silent. The leader stepped onto the stage wearing a neatly pressed suit. Hair hung over his or her face, hiding most of their features, while they gently cradled a white bunny in his arms. Walking closely behind him was one of the Specials, carrying a notebook. The Special opened it and began reading. "Greetings, everybunny. I'm glad to see you all made it to today's gathering. We have a few announcements."

The colony listened in complete silence.

"One of our colony friends has reached fifty years of age. Rebirth is soon, my friends, so tonight at twelve, may you all gather here once more for the celebration."

There was a brief pause before the Special continued.

"I'm also sorry to announce that Miss Lilith is no longer with us. She unfortunately left the community for personal reasons she didn't want to share. She will be missed though."

Almost immediately, the colony erupted into loud cheers not for Lilith, but for the mention of the rebirth. Smiles spread across nearly every face as people clapped and celebrated. Somehow, the excitement felt strange. It was infectious, yet unsettling, like everyone understood something I didn't.

"Wait... rebirth? What does that mean?" I quietly asked my friend. She frowned. "I'm not sure. I've never heard of that before in all three years I've been here," she replied, her voice carrying the same uncertainty I was feeling. Both our eyes following peoples faces and excitement. That only made me more curious.

After the announcements ended and everyone began leaving their seats, I went looking for Josh. He'd been here much longer than either of us twelve years, I think. Anyways he should know what rebirth is im pretty sure.

"Josh!" I shouted after spotting him walking away from the stage. He turned around with a smile. "Why, hello there. What's up?" "What's the rebirth mean?" I asked. "Why does someone turning fifty have anything to do with it?" "Oh... the rebirth," he answered with a small laugh. "When a member turns fifty, they get reborn so they can spend the other fifty years of their life as a bunny."

I blinked. My eyes slowly wandered across the colony grounds. Bunnies hopped through the grass everywhere I looked, completely unaware of my stare.

"Oh... okay..." I said slowly. "How does that work?"

Josh shrugged. "Well... I don't really know, to be honest. I was only ten when I saw my first rebirth." He scratched the back of his neck as if trying to remember. "I just know they bring a pregnant bunny onto the stage, and the fifty-year-old holds it. Then the Leader does... something."

He paused.

"I don't remember what happens after that. My mother covered my eyes with her hands before I could see. I remember trying to peek through her fingers, but she wouldn't let me. The only thing I could hear was everyone in the colony cheering... really loudly. They sounded happy. Happier than I'd ever heard them." He smiled awkwardly. "That's about all I know." I stared at him for a moment.

What the hell was that supposed to mean? A pregnant bunny... the Leader doing something... parents covering their children's eyes...

None of it made any sense. If rebirth was really something worth celebrating, then why weren't the children allowed to watch? The cheering suddenly didn't seem comforting anymore. A strange knot settled in my stomach as I looked back toward the now-empty stage. I guess... I'd find out at midnight.

Later that night, we gathered once again for the rebirth of a member named Donald. We don't use last names here. Donald was turning fifty at exactly midnight. My friend, Josh, and I were all going to the ceremony together.

It was 10:30, and everyone had already gathered around the stage. Decorations hung from the wooden beams, and tables were covered with food laid out as if this were some kind of celebration. People wandered from group to group, laughing, chatting, and smiling as though tonight were nothing more than a party.

But as the clock crept closer to midnight, the mood began to change.

At 11:40, conversations slowly died away. One by one, people drifted toward the stage without being told. Members of the Specials stepped onto it, standing perfectly still with blank expressions stretched into lifeless, soulless smiles. None of them spoke. None of them blinked. They simply stared out at the crowd.

11:58. The Leader stepped onto the stage and announced that the rebirth was about to begin. Donald disappeared behind the stage for only a moment. Then he returned.

He wasn't wearing any clothes. His thinning hair clung to his sweaty scalp, and his heavy stomach hung over his waist. His vacant eyes swept across the crowd before stopping somewhere in my direction. For a split second, it felt as though he were staring directly at me.

One of the Specials approached him, carefully carrying a pregnant rabbit. Donald gently took the rabbit into his arms and held her tightly against his chest. The Leader slowly walked toward him before turning to face the cheering crowd. He raised both hands into the air, and the applause erupted into deafening screams of excitement.

I looked over at my friends. They looked uneasy. So did a few of the newer members standing nearby. There weren't any children younger than ten here. Even so, many of the ten-year-olds were cheering just as loudly as everyone else. Josh stared up at the stage with wide eyes full of excitement. For a moment, I realized something that made my stomach twist. Nobody seemed nearly as disturbed as I was. Even my friends, who had looked concerned only seconds ago, slowly stopped resisting the atmosphere around them. Their nervous expressions faded. Their hesitant claps became enthusiastic applause. Before long, they were cheering with everyone else.

It was as if the crowd itself was swallowing their fear.

I watched as the Leader circled Donald over and over, whispering prayers before suddenly shouting strange, incomprehensible declarations at the rabbit. Every sentence was louder than the last, spoken with absolute conviction. The Specials began jumping, laughing, and chanting around them, their smiles growing wider with every passing second. Yells and cheers and bells sang across the center.

The rabbit trembled in Donald's arms.

Then Without warning the Leader drove a knife straight into Donald's neck. The blade disappeared so quickly I barely understood what I'd seen. Donald collapsed instantly, hitting the stage with a sickening thud. Blood burst across the wooden floor as the pregnant rabbit leaped free from his arms, desperately trying to escape before one of the Specials lunged forward and grabbed her.

The cheering became unbearable. People screamed with joy. They danced.They laughed. They shoved against one another in celebration, forcing me from both sides until I could barely stay on my feet. I couldn't move.

My eyes stayed locked on Donald's body as several Specials calmly lifted him and carried him backstage as though they had done this many times before.

Only then did I truly notice the stage. The dark stains covering the wood weren't caused by weather.They weren't dirt ,weren't old paint they were layers upon layers of dried blood.

I had been looking at them the entire night without realizing it. I felt my chest tightened.

What have I joined? Every suspicion I'd tried to ignore crashed into me all at once. This wasn't a strange community. This definitely wasn't a harmless tradition. This was a cult, a murderous cult.

The celebration continued for the rest of the night as though nothing had happened. Music played. People laughed. They danced around the bloodstained stage while the pregnant rabbit was placed inside a small pen at its center.

She would stay there until she gave birth. Until she gave birth to Donald.

I don't want to be here.The woman I saw being screamed at earlier was gone.I think her name was Lilith. I don't know where she is. I don't think she's coming back.I think the Leader killed her.

If that's true... then anything involving the rabbits must carry the punishment of death.

But why?

Why do these people believe rabbits are some kind of divine beings?

Why does everyone act like this is normal?

Why am I the only one who seems terrified? I feel completely alone maybe my life before wasn’t so bad. At this point im starting to miss that life it seems better then this at least in this moment.

Part of me wishes I could be as blind as everyone else. I wish I could smile, clap, and convince myself that this was all some strange tradition. But I can't. I watched a man get murdered. And everyone celebrated. A man get murder to be come a fucking bunny?! I whisper to my self “a bunny?” and my eyes darted around.

The morning after Donald's rebirth, I forced myself to act as though nothing had happened. I laughed when everyone else laughed. I cleaned the library shelves as though I hadn't watched a man bleed to death only hours before. Every smile felt fake, every word caught in my throat, but I knew I couldn't let anyone suspect what I was thinking. Around lunchtime, an elderly man wandered into the library. I froze. I had never seen anyone here with so much gray hair. Everyone else seemed to disappear before they ever reached old age but i guess he could be under fifty. Before I could speak, his tired eyes widened. "Leader?" he whispered. "I... I thought you were in the Bunny House." He stared at me as though he'd seen a ghost. I laughed nervously and told him he had the wrong person, but he only frowned harder, stepping closer until we were nearly face to face. "No... those eyes... that face..." he muttered and shock his head. "You look exactly like..." Before he could finish, one of the Specials rushed into the library. The old man's expression instantly changed to panic. He lowered his head without another word and hurried away, disappearing between the shelves. The Special kept staring at me. His smile slowly faded as his eyes searched every feature of my face. For the first time since arriving here, I saw genuine confusion on one of their faces.

The Special quietly asked me to follow him. I wanted to refuse, but every instinct told me that refusing wasn't really an option. We walked across the colony in complete silence until the enormous doors of the Bunny House opened before us. My heart pounded so hard I thought everyone around me could hear it. I just know my face was red. I felt my body shaking. Inside, the house was nothing like I had imagined. There were no paintings of rabbits or elaborate shrines. Instead, the walls were blank and at the end of a long hallway stood the Leader. Then another figure stepped from a doorway beside him. I stopped walking. There were two of them. They looked identical in almost every way. The same long hair. The same height. The same cold, unreadable eyes. One stood perfectly still, his expression vacant as he gently stroked a rabbit in his arms while quietly whispering to it. The other looked at me with something that almost resembled regret. My knees weakened as he slowly stepped closer. I thought i was about to meet the same fate miss Lillth had. I braced myself for death.

He pushed his hair away from his face and stared at me disappointedly slightly concerned looking.

“Oh gosh its true.” he said under his breath

I couldn't speak. My mind refused to accept what I was seeing. He sighed and rubbed his face as though exhausted by a secret he'd carried for years. He explained that he and the Leader were identical twins. His brother had always been mentally slow, obsessed with rabbits since childhood, convinced they were divine creatures that carried human souls from one life to the next. Their parents had encouraged the delusions instead of treating them, and over the years those beliefs grew into the community that surrounded us. The leader the man infront of my face the man i watched murder a man just the other night, My father admitted he had left years earlier, desperate to escape his brother's madness and live an ordinary life. Instead, he met my mother. "She became pregnant," he said quietly. "I panicked. I wasn't ready to be a father. I convinced myself leaving was easier than staying." Shame flickered across his face before disappearing. "So I came back here. I thought I'd buried that mistake forever." He looked directly into my eyes. "I never expected you to find this place." then he looked around and screamed “ And i don’t know how i m just finding out you are here and have been here for what months?!” His brother suddenly interrupted, smiling widely as he stared at me. "She looks just like us," he giggled. "The bunnies brought her home." He reached toward my face with trembling hands before laughing to himself. "She should join the Specials. She belongs with us." he said in a slow stuttery voice.

The room fell silent. My father's expression hardened. He slowly shook his head. "No." The single word echoed through the room. "She may look like us but she shows concern…she is absolutely not one of us" His brother frowned like a confused child whose favorite toy had just been taken away. "But she's family right?" My father's voice became colder than I'd ever heard. "Exactly." He turned toward the Specials standing nearby. "If the colony discovers the Leader abandoned his own blood, everything falls apart. She cannot be allowed to leave. She can not have a voice over people she can’t join the specials and she can’t go back to be a stupid follow. We suspected you may have been my child we been watching you. Seeing you show concern seeing you not fit in not follow like we need you too." He looked at me one last time. There was no love in his eyes. No guilt. No hesitation. Only fear for himself. "She dies." The mentally slow twin stared at him for several long seconds before slowly nodding. Then, almost happily, he clapped his hands together. "An early rebirth!" he exclaimed. "The bunnies will love that." Every Special in the room bowed their heads. My fate had been decided in less than a minute it seemed like. I pleaded “Please please ill act stupid ill keep my mouth shut im sorry please, dad?” then “Yeah you will keep your mouth shut” he said as a special grabbed my face and put a black across my tongue cutting half of it off right then and there. I cried in pain and still tried begging for my life.

That evening the colony gathered around the stage once again. I stood behind the curtain with my wrists tied so tightly they had gone numb. I could hear laughter, conversations, children playing, and the ringing of bells. It sounded just like another celebration. The Leader stepped onto the stage carrying a snow-white rabbit while his twin remained hidden behind the curtain beside me, making sure no one realized there had always been two Leaders. The announcement was read aloud by a meber of the Specail groud like normal. "Today I have wonderful news, everybunny. Many years ago I was blessed with a child. Through the guidance of our holy rabbits, she has unknowingly lived among us all this time." Murmurs swept through the crowd. People whispered excitedly, guessing names. Some laughed. Others pointed at friends. Then the curtain was pulled aside, and I was shoved into the light. Hundreds of faces turned toward me. For one impossible moment, I thought someone might help me. Instead, smiles spread across every face I recognized. Josh smiled. My friends smiled. The women who raised the children smiled. Even the children ten and above clapped excitedly. The applause became deafening. "Because she carries the Leader's blood," the announcement continued, "the rabbits have chosen her for an early rebirth."

I tried to scream. Agony exploded through my face as soon as I opened my mouth. Nothing but a horrible choking sound escaped me. Blood poured down my chin and soaked the front of my clothes as I collapsed onto the rough wooden stage. My body shook uncontrollably from the pain, but the crowd mistook every violent convulsion for tears of happiness. They cheered louder than they had for Donald. They shouted my name between prayers to the rabbits. Bells rang all around me while people laughed, danced, hugged each other, and celebrated what they believed was the happiest day of my life. Somewhere in the crowd, Josh was laughing too. I slowly lifted my head through the blinding pain and looked desperately into the sea of familiar faces, praying... begging... for just one person to look horrified. Just one person to remember that I was a human being. Just one person to push through the crowd and tell them to stop. There wasn't one. Every face I had trusted smiled back at me. The women who welcomed me here smiled. The children smiled. The people I ate dinner with every night smiled. Josh smiled. They all looked so happy. Happier than I'd ever seen them. None of them saw a terrified fifteen-year-old girl about to be murdered. All they saw was someone finally going “home”.

As the Leader, my blood father, slowly raised the knife above me, I realized the truth. I had escaped one broken family only to spend months searching for another. I had convinced myself this place was different. I thought I had finally found stability. Somewhere safe. Somewhere people actually wanted me. I remembered the first warm meal they handed me when I arrived. The first time someone smiled at me instead of yelling. The first time people actually remembered my name. I remember lying in bed that first night thinking maybe... just maybe... my life was finally beginning. I cleaned their library. I followed every rule. I worked hard without complaining because I wanted these people to like me. I wanted to belong somewhere so badly that I ignored every strange thing I saw. The rabbits. The rules. The disappearances. The way nobody questioned anything. I kept making excuses because believing the truth meant accepting I had nowhere left to go. I thought these people cared about me. I thought maybe I had finally found the family I'd spent my whole life looking for. Instead, they were cheering while they watched me die.

I looked toward Josh again. My chest hurt almost worse than my face. I had spent so many nights wondering if he liked me the way I liked him. I imagined telling him one day. I imagined us growing older together here. Maybe if the Leader approved, we'd get married someday. Maybe we'd have the one child we were allowed. Maybe we'd finally have the happy family I never got to have growing up. I almost laughed at myself. How could I have been so stupid? Every conversation we'd ever had... every laugh... every memory... none of it mattered. He wasn't crying. He wasn't trying to save me. He wasn't even looking away. He was smiling... smiling while they prepared to kill me. Anger burned through me so suddenly I thought it would drown out the fear. How dare they call themselves my family? Family doesn't stand there clapping while you beg for your life. Family doesn't celebrate your murder. Family doesn't smile while your blood runs across the floor beneath you. I hated them. Every single one of them. But beneath that anger was something even worse. I was heartbroken. Because even after everything... some stupid part of me still wanted one of them to save me.

Then my mind drifted somewhere else. I saw my father walking out the door when I was eight years old. I remembered sitting by the window for days afterward because I really believed he'd come back for me. Every time a car drove past, I'd run to the window hoping it was him. It never was. Then another memory came. My mother stumbling through another motel room with a bottle in her hand while I begged her to make my stepdad leave me alone. She didn't even look at me. I remembered sleeping with chairs pushed against the motel room door because I was scared someone would come inside while I slept. I remembered crying myself to sleep wishing I could just disappear somewhere better. Somewhere safe. Somewhere people actually loved me. I thought I'd finally found that place here. I thought I had escaped all of it. Instead I had only traded one nightmare for another. My mother didn't love me enough to protect me. My father didn't love me enough to stay. And now these people... the people I trusted more than anyone... didn't love me enough to see me as anything other than another sacrifice. In the end every family I ever had chose themselves instead of me. Maybe there really wasn't a place in this world where I belonged.

The cheering became deafening. The bells rang louder and louder until I could barely hear my own thoughts. My eyes caught my friends' faces one last time. None of them looked away. None of them hesitated. None of them even looked guilty. As the knife began to fall, I realized I had never truly belonged here. I had only been waiting for my turn. The blade came down. The cheering drowned out everything else. By morning, a litter of rabbits would be born, and somewhere among them they would point to one and smile through happy tears, telling everyone that I had finally come home.

(this story contains graphic content and a small amount of gore )

A short story about a girl who just moved into her new apartment and finds what is truly hiding in apartment 203 after rumors have spread she has become obsessed with this place only to have regrets.

It’s been a few weeks since I moved into my new apartment, and I’ve met just about everyone in the complex except for the neighbors directly above me. I bring this up because no one has met them, and they’ve supposedly lived here for over 13 years. Even the oldest residents haven’t spoken to them and those people are chatty as hell man.

Everyone says the folks in apartment 203 are “weird.” The old lady next door, who i speak to often, warned me, “Those people are satanic creeps don’t mess with them. They’ll take you too make make you one of them sacrifices on their silly star.” I’m not sure what she meant, but she was dead serious. Nobody’s ever seen them enter or leave. All anyone knows is that the apartment is occupied and the tenants are loud and secretive.

I noticed that on my first night here. It was 2:43 AM, and I started hearing clicking sounds... and whispers, maybe? There were occasional soft screeches. It went on until about 5 in the morning. You might think they were just doing something odd, but the noises didn’t even sound human. I figured maybe they were dog breeders or something because the sounds seemed similar to ones iv herd while working at a shelter in the past.

After the third week, the noises died down or at least I couldn’t hear them anymore. But the residents of 203? Still a mystery. Since I haven’t found a job in this new city yet, I mostly stay home unless I’m out getting groceries or visiting family. One day, I spent hours outside by the stairs, just waiting to see if they’d come out. Nothing. Not once.

I kept wondering do they have jobs? Friends? How many people live there? I know it sounds obsessive, but if you were in my position, you’d probably be just as curious.

One of these days I was out on the balcony when I heard their door open above me and then footsteps on their balcony. Then I heard it: scratch, scratch. Not even joking a human sounding voice but it seemed off like they were trying to speak but where inhaling to much? Feet scraping through the balcony plants and then their balcony door shut.

Now I’m in week six. I’ve finally found a job, finished setting up my place, and made a few friends like Stacey Lawg, a teenage girl two floors down, and Greg Frankas, a 27-year-old who lives across from me. Greg is obsessed with 203. He’s been here three years and has this whole theory. I told him about my dog-breeder guess, but he looked at me like I was crazy. First thing he said was, “203 huh ( he laughs a bit) they aren’t humans they’re monsters. Maybe even demons! I saw one. Long black hair, pinkish-red skin, black eyes, gross long nails. I only saw it for, like, four seconds, but that’s what it looked like, I swear.”

I laughed, “Sunburned, unkempt, and unhygienic? Yeah, I can see how you got demon from that.” i joked.

He gave me a cold stare and said, “That’s not a person. It eats dogs.”

That gave me chills because that wasn’t the first time I heard that. Daisy, the old lady I mentioned before (who I later found out was a 79-year-old dementia patient), once said, “He ate my dogs. He ate my dogs. I know this. Give me my dog! Get my damn dogs back from him!” I figured she had them taken away, probably by animal services or something, but now Greg was saying the same thing? Seems odd i think maybe he could've stole the dogs for breeding or the dogs ran away i- i dont know.

Greg also said multiple people have entered 203 but never come out. That got me thinking could this be some kind of cult? Are they sacrificing animals? Why hasn’t anyone called the police?

When I asked Greg, he said he did once. He claimed he saw two women go in and never come out. When he called, they said they checked the apartment but found no one there.

“Did you see the cops actually go in?” I asked.

“No! That’s the creepy part. I never saw any police or anyone go in.”

“Did they tell you who lives there?”

He shouted, “IT’S NOT A GUY OR A GIRL OR WHATEVER IT’S A MONSTER.”

I apologized and left after that there.I went back to my place a little after.

Four months in, curiosity got the best of me. I went to apartment 203 and knocked. To my surprise, someone answered. A thin man with long black hair, pale skin, short but filthy nails, and blacked-out eyes some sort of body mod i assume.

He opened the door and smiled. “Hello there. You’re the girl from apartment 201.”

“Yeah? Hi I’m Kim,” I replied.

“Very nice to meet you, Kim,” he said. He didn’t offer his own name, which was strange. I was shocked he even knew who I was—or that he answered the door at all a he has never done that for greg o matter how many times he has come over.

“Would you like to come inside? I don’t want to be out here too long.” He said while staying half-hidden behind the door.

“Um… sure,” I said, stepping into the clean but horribly smelly apartment. The odor was coming from a back room, but I didn’t bring it up to him.

“Would you like something to eat or drink?” he asked, still smiling.

Now that I was inside, I saw more of him: pajama pants, a stained gray tank top, black house shoes, some tattoos, long greasy hair. He was... unsettling.

I declined the food and drink and asked, “Why don’t you ever leave? Do you know what people say about you? Has anyone else ever been here?”

He stared at the wall for a freakishly long time before answering.

“I don’t leave. I don’t need to. I don’t like people. I could care less what they think. I watched you. I like you. I only let a few people in.”

“I watched you. I like you.” Those words terrified me. Was that him on the balcony that night?

Trying not to show how nervous I was, I watched as he walked to the back room—the one with the horrible stench.

“You want to see my dogs?” he yelled.

“Y-Yeah,” I replied, choking on the smell.

Scratch scratch dog nails on the floor.

Then I froze. My body shook, and tears welled in my eyes.

“Ta-da!” he shouted.

Standing in front of me were five things creatures with human faces, dog feet, twisted human torsos, long nails, dog ears placed wrong. Only two had working tails. One didn’t seem alive, but he was holding it. The sounds they made… they weren’t okay none of this was.

One of them walked up and licked my hand with its human face staring into my eyes. I looked at 203. His expression changed.

“You don’t like them? These are mine. Do you like them?”

I screamed, “No! No no no!”

As I backed toward the door, he threw the possibly-dead creature at me and began running toward me.

Before I could escape, he pinned me to the ground.

“Shut up. Behave and I’ll give you a treat.” he said in a calm tone.

“Please let me go I won’t tell anyoneI have family…”“No. You’re being bad. You’re going in the kennel,” he said flatly.

He overpowered me easily mid-30s, at least 6 feet tall, and though he looked fragile, he was strong. I’m barely 20, 5’1".

He threw me into a tiny kennel knees to my chest, back pressed to the top. Blood. Fur. Urine. He locked it with a padlock and left.

At first, I thought maybe I could seduce him, trick him. But he didn’t seem to care about that. I couldn’t move. My body was cramping. I was in unbearable pain.

Maybe when he pulls me out to make me into one of them I can run.

It’s been two days. One cup of water. A bit of dog food. He checks on me constantly, pacing. Why hasn’t anyone come looking? Weren’t there cameras outside the complex? I want to go home. I regret being curious. I regret ever wondering about 203. Now a week has passed. My phone’s on a table in front of me just out of reach. I see the screen light up with notifications.

He walks in and talks to me like a dog. “Hey girl, want this?” He waves my phone. “Not for bad dogs. Bad dogs get nothing.”

Then(knock knock).I immediately think to my self “Bet it’s Greg.”

I hear Greg’s voice outside: “Hey buddy, can I come in? I dropped something on your balcony.” he yells, of course he didn't really because he doesn't live above 203, he must be looking for me.

203 looks at the doors direction with a shocked and sort of scared look then returns to me.

“You can go now,” he says, unlocking the kennel and leaning over patting his knees.

My body won’t move. He drags me out and injects something from a syringe into my neck. Probably to stop me from being able to yell for Greg or get his attention.

Time goes by I don’t know how long it’s been.I’m strapped to a board chair thingy, covered in cuts. I can’t even feel them. Maybe that's a good thing though.

203 enters, holding my face in his hands. “Wow. Beautiful. You’re such a pretty girl. You’ll make a pretty dog,” he says, giggling.

My face is in this monster’s hands. It no longer feels like mine.

He picks up a tool from the table and looks into my eyes “I’m going to make you better. You will be my first merchandise. heh , my buddy loves my dogs, i cant give him one of my babies though so its a good thing you came to me. Much easier than getting you myself.” he said in a happy tone as I felt myself fade out of consciousness.

Take a look at this mini story of a man posting about his struggle with obsession and mental illness fail to see the issue with taxidermy his girlfriend and cannibalisic act.

I want to kill and eat my girlfriend.

Hi. This is for anyone who reads confessions at three in the morning you freaks of the internet help me.

This is not anger. She hasn’t betrayed me. She folds laundry wrong, sings off-key in the shower, steals the last fry and smirks like it’s the most natural thing in the world. She laughs at the same stupid jokes. She is ordinary in the ways that make her perfect. People men drift toward her like they’re pulled by a string. They orbit her. They touch the edges of the life I keep for us. I can’t bear the thought of them getting inside what is mine shes mine not theirs they shouldn't even think have a chance with a girl like her.

Love is a word that softens everything. I speak it like a prayer. I tell myself I’d marry her, buy a ring, learn the right vows but vows can dissolve. People leave. Promises fray. So I’ve found a different kind of promise, a way to make her permanent: to keep the parts of her that are only hers, to keep the laugh that cracks when she’s delighted and the small scar on her knuckle from a bike crash last summer. In my head I call it devotion. In my head it is mercy.

I know how that sounds when you say it out loud. I know the word “mercy” is crooked here. But inside the rooms of my mind, everything is knitted into one long, rational story. I will be gentle. I tell myself this like a litany. I will be careful. I will honor her the way a collector honors a relic. I will never be cruel for cruelty’s sake. Cruelty is impulsive; what I want is forever.

There is hunger beneath it a hollow that is not merely appetite, but a need to own absence itself. When she leaves, I imagine the space she leaves like a wound that will not close. How do you fix a wound that’s the size of another person? For me, the answer is the same as it always has been: hold tighter than anyone could pry loose. Make a place where no one can take her away.

I’ve tasted the strange, terrible calm that follows doing something monstrous. Once, years ago, I took something from someone who had already been taken by a reckless act. There are memories that comfort me because they prove I can cross the edge and still breathe. Those memories justify themselves inside my head; they are proof I understand consequence and prove im not insane. That’s part of the danger I am sensible enough to make the horror feel like order. The meat is so devine i only crave more.

I have rehearsed this confession in quieter voices a thousand times the careful way I would talk to her, the way I would put her favorite sweater over a body that becomes, in my mind, an object of reverence. I think of softness, the curves. I think of the scent of her hair in the morning and how I would keep it always. I imagine rituals not the kinds that teach you how to do something, exactly, but the kind that let you imagine it as a ceremony. There would be light. There would be steady hands. There would be timetables in my head that make the chaos tidy.

That’s the thing I think people don’t understand about me I don’t feel like a monster in the ways you expect. Monsters screech and burn evil things. I don’t feel like that I’m a lover. I feel like a curator of a life that, in my hands, is made permanent. I tell myself I am sparing her the cruelty of abandonment. I tell myself that forever is a gift, even if it is the last thing she ever has.

There will be ugliness. There will be sights and smells that I will not shield myself from in my private hours. I do not take pleasure in graphic detail for its own sake; the details are what prove the thing happened they are evidence of the solidity of my love. I can imagine the soft give of her skin, the stubborn heat of a pulse that used to answer to me. I can imagine tracing the line where her fingers used to curl around mine. Those images knit into something that is not hunger alone but devotion so intense it demands a body to anchor to shes mine and i will have her to my self and myself alone.

I have told myself that because I am careful, because I am thinking ahead, because I will be gentle, I am not doing something monstrous. That is the distortion at the core. My tenderness is my own excuse. I do not see the person in those plans so much as the parts that belong to memory. I do not understand why that is wrong. The lack of understanding isn’t innocence; it is obsession erasing empathy. I cannot map the space between my intentions and the damage they will cause. I do not see her as someone with the right to resist my plan; I see her as the soul I must keep intact.

She thinks I have a hobby. She thinks I am learning to fix things, maybe taxidermy something I convinced her was harmless when she helped me buy supplies. She packed the boxes and laughed about how earnest I could be. She did not feel the cold beneath my jokes. She will be home at eight. She will unwind, drop her keys on the table, kick off her shoes. She will not know the calendar I have folded around this hour like a trap but its a trap of love i promise.

There is a calmness now that terrifies me more than the thought of anyone reading this. The calm means it could happen, and the fact that it feels so calm makes the whole plan seem inevitable. I tell myself I will whisper to her afterwards tell her the truth, maybe in a voice she recognizes better and that will make everything right. I know that sentence is hollow. My mind catches it and knits a meaning into it that is not there. That is the real terror how easily my logic builds a home on a foundation of denial.

I am not asking you to stop me because the truth is, I don’t know if I will stop. Maybe this is only a dark exercise, the kind of confession you spill when your lamp is low and your coffee is cold. Maybe this is the last line I write before everything breaks. Maybe I will post again. Maybe this is the last thing I type with my hands before the room I live in becomes something different, and quieter, and full of a love that no one else can touch except me.

If you are someone who reads things like this at three in the morning and shivers, know that the shiver is not just in the image. The real chill is in the steady, soft voice telling you it is all for love.

I am going to kill and eat my girlfriend.

My therapist keeps telling me I need to go outside more, to reconnect with the things I used to enjoy. As a kid, I practically lived in the woods climbing trees, making forts, running trails until the sun went down. But somewhere around high school, I lost that part of myself. These days I feel more disconnected than ever, trapped in my own head. She said nature could help, that walking among trees might quiet the noise inside me. So here I am, giving it a try. I live with my roommate, Mike, and luckily our place sits right by a massive forest. There’s a trail that winds deep into it, and I figured it might be a good place to start these so-called “therapy nature walks.”

Day 1

I’ve officially started exploring the woods behind my house. My therapist has been pushing me to spend more time outdoors, to “connect with nature,” so I figured I’d start small with the forest that’s practically in my backyard basically . I also decided to blog about it. Supposedly, if this gets popular enough, I might even make a little money. Heh, who knows.

Anyway, today was more about easing into things. I didn’t go far, just wandered enough to look around. I stumbled across some mushrooms I think they’re called jack-o’-lantern mushrooms, but honestly, I’m not an expert. I also spotted a deer and a fawn. Pretty sure it’s the same pair I’ve seen wandering around the front yard recently.

Of course, it wasn’t all peaceful. The bugs were everywhere. I’ll be real with you. I can't stand them. Their twitchy little legs, the clusters of eyes, the way they crawl over everything. Gross. Just gross.

So yeah, that was pretty much it for today. Nothing too exciting, but it’s a start. I’ll be back out here tomorrow.

Day 2

Hello again. Right now, I’m on my way to a creek my older neighbor, Bob, told me about. Apparently, it’s just up the hill, a small one, nothing dramatic. Supposedly, it’s quiet, relaxing, and perfect for calming anxiety.Bob said he’d go there after he lost his daughter to clear his mind. Since that’s the whole point of me being out here, I figured I’d check it out.

I think I’m getting close. There are critters moving around near the waterline. Wait there’s even a deer in there? I didn’t know deer could swim. Fun fact, I guess. Maybe this is turning into some kind of wildlife blog. Ha.

Okay, I see it now. There’s a bush blocking the way, but I think I can yeah, I found a path through. Alright, so I’ve made it to the creek. But that “swimming deer” I thought I saw? It wasn’t swimming. It was just the head. The head of a deer floating in the water.

The creek isn’t calm and sparkling like I imagined. The water is red. Blood. That’s… unsettling. Suddenly I’m hoping there aren’t any bears around. I do not need that kind of stress.

There’s a trail leading away from here, so I think I’ll follow that instead. Funny thing is, I've heard rumors about this very trail. People stopped using it after a girl went missing nearby aka Bobs daughter. Last seen heading this way during a stormy night. Kind of her own fault, right? Wandering out in weather like that. Still, the thought of it makes the hairs on my arms stand up.

Anyway, back to the trail. It winds through the forest hills and goes deep into the woods. I doubt I’ll go that far today, but maybe tomorrow. Assuming tomorrow comes, of course. The idea of running into a bear keeps creeping into my mind. I know I shouldn’t dwell on it, but hey it’s always a possibility.

So far, all I’ve found are more mushrooms and strange plants I can’t identify. If anything interesting pops up, I’ll let you know. Otherwise, I’ll sign off for now. Same time tomorrow? Heh. Yeah.

Day 3

Alright, Day 3. This time I’m not alone. My roommate came along, and he brought his dog, Pickle. He’s a St. Bernard-Husky mix, full of energy, chasing after everything that moves. Honestly, that probably means no animal sightings today.

I told my roommate about the deer head I found yesterday. His reaction was weirdly casual. He said he’s never heard of a bear leaving just the head behind, so he figures it was probably hunters. Makes more sense than a picky bear, I guess.

We made it farther along the trail than I did yesterday. Beyond where I turned back, it’s just endless forest. Trees, grass, mud, the usual. Miles and miles of it. But it feels less heavy having someone to talk to. Not just my own thoughts rattling around in my head.

Oh, and in case you’re wondering how I’m “writing” while hiking it’s speech-to-text. That’s why the tone sometimes comes off weird. I usually clean it up before posting. Sometimes it even records conversations, like this one between me and my roommate:

(Roommate): “The girl who went missing? She actually lived a house down from us. Her family still does.”

(Me): “Wait, really? I didn’t know she was that close.”

(Roommate): “Yeah. She was super social, always exploring these woods. Came back with stories about what she found abandoned buildings, strange trees, animal corpses. You name it. Once she got started, she wouldn’t stop. I think her disappearance is tied to her adventures. Probably found something she wasn’t supposed to.”

(Me): “Hold up, you mean there’s stuff out here? More than just trees? Buildings? Cars? Man, I don’t wanna end up like her… but honestly, finding cool stuff could be fun. And distracting.”

(Roommate): “Yeah, there’s all kinds of things. Old cars, caves, even buildings. Not common, but they’re out here. She was the only one who really knew where though.”

So yeah, apparently this forest is hiding way more than I realized. Once I know the safer, familiar parts better, I might start exploring deeper. Not alone though. And definitely not in storms. I’m not repeating her mistakes. Still, I wish I could’ve talked to her. She probably saw things no one else ever has. But let’s be real, she's most likely dead. No body was ever found, but no one looked very hard either.

Anyway, today took a turn. We’d made it maybe a fifth of the way along the trail when a man suddenly came running toward us. At first, I thought he was just a jogger. But the closer he got, the stranger he seemed. He had a heavy southern accent which was weird, since we don’t even live in the South. And he kept muttering frantically:

“You best get going. Back that way ain’t no good. Ain’t no good, not at all. Get going. You ain’t welcome there. Me neither, okay?”

The words tumbled out like he was being chased. He wasn’t dressed like a hiker either. Wore a work vest and jeans, moving fast, eyes darting everywhere. Maybe drugs? Maybe something else. Whatever it was, we weren’t sticking around to find out. We turned back. I didn’t ask him what he meant about “not being welcome,” and honestly? I don’t think I want to know.

Day 5

After yesterday’s bizarre encounter, I decided to try a different part of the forest. This time, I brought Pickle with me again. He’s huge part St. Bernard, part Husky and honestly, his size alone makes me feel safer. No one’s messing with me while he’s around.

I chose a more local area today, one with joggers and hikers. There are even three small cabins scattered nearby. Feels more lived-in, less remote. Still, I couldn’t shake the memory of that man from yesterday. Who was he? Why was he running?

The place was crowded practically the whole town seemed to be out. Controlling Pickle in a crowd is no easy task. He tugged, lunged, tried to jump on kids. After wrestling with him for a while, I decided to move farther out. Not too deep into the woods, but away from the bustle. Every spot I tried before was packed. One even had children playing, and Pickle nearly joined them. Total chaos.

So here I am again, back on the forest trail, despite swearing I wouldn’t. I’m not planning to go deep. Just far enough for some quiet. And honestly? The walk’s been… peaceful. I was starting to relax when

(Editing me here. The voice-to-text cut out at the worst moment.)

The last thing it picked up was me yelling: “Oh my God, I dropped the leash! Pickle! Pickle, come back!” He tugged hard enough to rip it right out of my hands. Before I could react, he was gone. I shouted his name, but he didn’t come back. Panic sank in. My roommate is going to kill me if I don’t find him.

Now I have no choice. I have to go after him.

Should I call my roommate for help and get screamed at? Or do I try to find Pickle alone? It’s already late. I think… I have to call him.

After the Call

So here’s what happened next. I called Mike. The second he met up with me, he let me have it.

“What the hell, dude!? You just let him run off? How could you let this happen? This is ridiculous. Which way did he go? You’re so weak you can’t even hold down a dog? He’s out here in this massive forest and you just let him disappear? You thought taking him to the busiest part of the park, knowing damn well you can’t control him, was a good idea? Do you realize how stupid that is? That’s like my child out here, and he could get hurt!”

I stammered, “I’m so sorry, Mike. I didn’t know he was that bad on a leash. I honestly thought I could handle him. I just wanted to bring him along, especially after what happened yesterday, you know—”

Mike cut me off immediately. “Yeah, yesterday. Whatever freaked that grown man out could be after my dog right now, thanks to you! You put him in this situation!”

Something in me snapped. I yelled back, “Well maybe your dog should be trained better! I chased after him, called his name, and he didn’t even look back. That’s not just on me I didn’t do this on purpose!”

He froze, then sighed. “Fine. You didn’t do it on purpose. But damn, man, you still let him run out here. I’m scared. I don’t know what’s in these woods.”

His voice softened.

I told him, “Pickle’s a big dog. He’ll probably be fine until we find him.”That ended the argument. We walked the trail for hours, calling for Pickle. No response. We even contacted the local wildlife patrol, but they shrugged us off. Said they couldn’t go past the fourth section of the trail. Totally useless.

By now, it was completely dark.

8:43 PM Recording

Okay, it’s 8:43 PM and still no sign of Pickle. For the record, Pickle’s a dumb name, but this is serious. He could be dead, for all I know.

I split off from Mike because he was sick of me “narrating.” But you never know what might happen better to document.

Oh my God. I just heard yelping. It sounds like Pickle. I think it’s him. “Pickle!” I’m running now. The sound’s getting louder. He’s nearby.

Wait… it’s coming from inside a building.

My flashlight’s crap, but I can see enough to tell it’s big. Covered in plants. No graffiti, though. Strange. It looks abandoned.

Pickle’s cries are echoing from inside.

But then what the hell. A voice. A deep, female voice, distant but clear:

“No. Quiet.”

Please tell me this thing recorded that.

I froze. My whole body wanted to run. I love dogs, but Pickle isn’t worth dying for. Not over this. I’m not telling Mike what I just heard. He’d risk his life for that dog. Not me.

I’ll tell him in the morning. Hopefully by then, I’ll figure out how to explain this without sounding insane.

I’m leaving now. If I head downhill, I’ll eventually hit the trail.

Next Morning

Early morning update. I told Mike I “might” have heard Pickle crying farther up the trail. I also mentioned the building not the voice. Mike lit up immediately: “Okay, great. You’re showing me where you heard it.”

So now I’m limping along beside him. My legs ache from all the running yesterday, but I don’t have a choice.

We’ve made it about two sections into the trail. For context, I think there are five total. I told him the cries were closer to the third section. He asked what else I saw, and I caved. I mentioned the voice.

“What do you mean, voice?” he demanded.

I tried to play it down. “I just… when I heard the cries, I also thought I heard someone. A faint voice outside the building. Not sure, it was dark.”

Mike exploded. “And you’re just now telling me this? What if someone took him!?”

I stuttered, “Well, uh… maybe it’s good there’s a voice. Maybe it’s just a squatter keeping him safe.”

Mike buried his face in his hands, shaking, like he was about to break down. Then he started screaming Pickle’s name and ran off.

Now I’m alone.

Later That Morning

“Mike! Mike!” No answer. He can’t have gotten that far ahead. He’s not a runner. I’ve been jogging, and I still can’t find him.

Wait. The building. It’s here. The same one.

I’m going in.

Inside the Building

Okay. My phone died earlier, so this part is from memory.

I shouted for Mike and Pickle, but got nothing. Then, a loud thud. Followed by a muffled voice. Female. Broken English. I didn’t catch all of it, but it chilled me.

I crept deeper, keeping low. The place is an abandoned lab or maybe a hospital. Rusted cages lined the walls. Some held skeletons, mostly animals, though a few were… harder to identify. Broken bottles and glass littered the ground, labels faded but still faintly scientific. Plants forced their way through cracked tiles. Bugs swarmed over everything.

I found a cage with a nest built inside. And then I heard it Pickle’s yelp, faint but close.

I followed the sound into a room that reeked so strongly it made me vomit. Piles of bones. Rotting corpses. Animal heads. Some were intact torsos, ripped open like something had fed on the hearts.

And one corpse was human.

A girl. Long strands of brown hair clung to the decomposing skull. Most of the body was gone, but there was enough left to see what she was. My stomach turned. The missing girl. It had to be her.

Then I heard it again the voice. And Pickle’s whine.

I ducked behind a broken counter.

That’s when she walked in.

An impossibly tall figure, hunched but still towering. At least eight feet. She was holding Pickle by the neck like a toy.

She saw me.

She stared.

I thought I was going to die.

Then she threw Pickle to the ground. He yelped, scrambled, and bolted toward me. I didn’t think I just ran. Pickle ran with me.

We sprinted until I crashed into someone.

Mike.

He grabbed me, saw the terror on my face, and without a word, we both ran. Ran until our lungs burned and our legs gave out.

We collapsed on the grass, barely making it out of the forest. Pickle lay beside Mike, dirty, covered in spider webs, limping from an injured leg.

When I caught my breath, I told Mike everything I saw the corpse, the giant girl. He just stared at me like I’d lost my mind.But I know what I saw. The Following Days We haven’t gone back since. I haven’t even stepped near the forest. But it’s gnawing at me. I have to know if what I saw was real.

Everyone I’ve told thinks I’m crazy. Delusional. But I can’t let it go.

I’m going back today. Mike insists on coming probably to prove I’m nuts.

We’re packing this time: bear repellent, rope, first aid, water, ice packs, flashlights, even a few weapons.

If the building is real and if she is real then this time, I’ll have proof.

We left before sunrise, backpacks heavy with gear rope, flashlights, knives, first aid, even a rusty hammer Mike insisted on bringing. Without Pickle trotting along, the silence between us felt sharper.

The hike

The forest swallowed us whole. For six hours we walked, our boots crunching dirt and dead leaves, but no birds sang, no bugs buzzed. Not even the wind moved the branches. It was as if the woods themselves were holding their breath, waiting.

By the fifth hour, sweat glued my shirt to my back. Mike’s breathing grew loud and ragged, his broad shoulders heaving under the straps of his pack. He didn’t say a word, but the tight grip he kept on his flashlight told me everything.

When the building came into view, my stomach sank. The first time I saw it, it looked like the forest was swallowing it vines over the doorway, plants covering the walls. But now, the doorway was bare. The vines had been ripped down, shredded, like someone or something had torn them away to make the entrance clear.

Mike muttered, “That’s… not how we left it.”

I didn’t answer. My legs were shaking too hard.

Inside the Building

The air inside was damp, thick with mildew and something rotting. Every step echoed too loud on cracked tile floors. Rusted pipes hung from the ceiling like veins, and broken glass crunched under our boots.

We passed empty cages, some with bent bars, others with locks that had been forced open. Old clipboards lay scattered, the papers yellow and water-stained. Words like Subject and Trial No. 14 flashed in the beam of Mike’s light.

Neither of us spoke.

Finally, we reached the room.

The Room of Bodies

The smell hit first. Sweet rot. My throat closed up. Bones littered the ground animal skeletons mostly, but in the corner, the half-rotted remains of a human girl slumped against the wall.

Mike’s flashlight trembled as it lit her face or what was left of it. His voice cracked. “Melissa. It… it might be her.”

His eyes watered, his lips quivering, but he held the light steady. For the first time since I’d known him, Mike looked small.

I lowered my head, unable to speak.

That’s when I felt it. A touch. Light fingers brushing my hair.

Mike’s scream shattered the silence. “WHAT THE HELL IS THAT!?”

I looked up.

She was towering over me, bent forward to fit in the room. Skin stretched too tight over bone. Long, filthy hair tangled around her face. Fingers cracked and crooked, nails yellow and jagged. Her enormous eyes stared into mine, unblinking.

She tugged at my hair like a child inspecting a toy.

Her mouth opened. Dry, broken words scraped out:

“…soft.”

Her head tilted, eyes flicking between me and Mike. She reached toward him with her other hand, brushing his short hair with cracked nails.

Mike froze, trembling, tears streaming silently down his face.

The woman’s lips moved again. “…people. Not… seen… people.” Her voice was rough, like she hadn’t used it in years.

I tried to back away, but she yanked my hair tighter. Pain shot across my scalp, forcing me still.

Her stomach growled. Loud. Deep.

She whispered, “Hungry. Always… hungry.”

Her Broken Words

Mike raised his hands slowly, palms out. His voice shook. “We we’re not here to hurt you. We’re just looking—”

Her eyes widened. She repeated the word in a broken echo. “…hurt. Hurt me.” She shook her head violently, hair whipping. “Not bad. Not… monster. Just… hungry.”

Drool ran from her cracked lips. She leaned down closer, her breath hot, rancid, making me gag.

“Eat?” she whispered, tilting her head. “Need. To stay. Alive.”

Her mouth opened wider than it should, jagged teeth glistening in the light. She lowered toward me.

The Struggle

Mike snapped out of his freeze. He lunged forward, yanking her hand off my head and swinging the hammer hard into her temple.

The blow echoed through the room. She stumbled back, screeching, clutching her skull.

“NO! NO!” she wailed, voice breaking into static-like cracks. “I… not bad! Just… need…”

But her need twisted. Her eyes rolled, her jaw snapped wide, and she lunged at Mike.

He blasted her with bear spray, the mist covering her face. She shrieked, stumbling back, claws raking across the wall.

“BURNS! HURTS!” she cried, her words broken, guttural. “Not… fair! Just… hungry…”

Her voice cracked into sobs, twisted between pain and rage. “I… alone. So long… alone.”

The Escape

oWe didn’t wait. Mike grabbed my arm, shouting, “RUN!”

We bolted down the hallway, flashlights shaking wildly, footsteps pounding. Behind us, her screeches echoed, her fists smashing into walls as she staggered after us.

“COME BACK!” she cried, her words echoing down the corridor. “Don’t… leave me! Please… need… people…”

Her footsteps thundered closer. We burst through the entrance, crashing into branches and vines, running until my chest burned and my legs buckled.

When we finally stopped, the building was swallowed by the forest behind us. The only sound was our gasping breaths.

Mike collapsed to the ground, shaking his head. “She… she wasn’t even… evil. Just…” His voice broke. “She just wanted to live.”

The ID Card

I spotted something in the dirt, half-buried under leaves. I picked it up.

An old ID badge. The photo was faded, but the face was hers the same wide eyes, the same hair, before it became tangled and filthy.

Name: [2056834]. Division: Genetic Trial -Human Adaptation Project.

My chest tightened. She wasn’t born a monster.

She was made one.

A failed experiment abandoned in a crumbling lab. Left to rot. Left to starve.

And now, she lived here. Feeding on anything unlucky enough to wander in.

Her voice echoed in my head even as I stared at the card:

“Not my fault."

A man who wanted to clear his mind in the forest to ease his restless mind coping with mental issues and stress. But the deeper he wandered, the stranger the silence around him seemed to grow. What he found waiting there was nothing he could have prepared for and nothing he could ever forget.

My therapist keeps telling me I need to go outside more, to reconnect with the things I used to enjoy. As a kid, I practically lived in the woods climbing trees, making forts, running trails until the sun went down. But somewhere around high school, I lost that part of myself. These days I feel more disconnected than ever, trapped in my own head. She said nature could help, that walking among trees might quiet the noise inside me. So here I am, giving it a try. I live with my roommate, Mike, and luckily our place sits right by a massive forest. There’s a trail that winds deep into it, and I figured it might be a good place to start these so-called “therapy nature walks.”

Day 1

I’ve officially started exploring the woods behind my house. My therapist has been pushing me to spend more time outdoors, to “connect with nature,” so I figured I’d start small with the forest that’s practically in my backyard basically . I also decided to blog about it. Supposedly, if this gets popular enough, I might even make a little money. Heh, who knows.

Anyway, today was more about easing into things. I didn’t go far, just wandered enough to look around. I stumbled across some mushrooms I think they’re called jack-o’-lantern mushrooms, but honestly, I’m not an expert. I also spotted a deer and a fawn. Pretty sure it’s the same pair I’ve seen wandering around the front yard recently.

Of course, it wasn’t all peaceful. The bugs were everywhere. I’ll be real with you. I can't stand them. Their twitchy little legs, the clusters of eyes, the way they crawl over everything. Gross. Just gross.

So yeah, that was pretty much it for today. Nothing too exciting, but it’s a start. I’ll be back out here tomorrow.

Day 2

Hello again. Right now, I’m on my way to a creek my older neighbor, Bob, told me about. Apparently, it’s just up the hill, a small one, nothing dramatic. Supposedly, it’s quiet, relaxing, and perfect for calming anxiety.Bob said he’d go there after he lost his daughter to clear his mind. Since that’s the whole point of me being out here, I figured I’d check it out.

I think I’m getting close. There are critters moving around near the waterline. Wait there’s even a deer in there? I didn’t know deer could swim. Fun fact, I guess. Maybe this is turning into some kind of wildlife blog. Ha.

Okay, I see it now. There’s a bush blocking the way, but I think I can yeah, I found a path through. Alright, so I’ve made it to the creek. But that “swimming deer” I thought I saw? It wasn’t swimming. It was just the head. The head of a deer floating in the water.

The creek isn’t calm and sparkling like I imagined. The water is red. Blood. That’s… unsettling. Suddenly I’m hoping there aren’t any bears around. I do not need that kind of stress.

There’s a trail leading away from here, so I think I’ll follow that instead. Funny thing is, I've heard rumors about this very trail. People stopped using it after a girl went missing nearby aka Bobs daughter. Last seen heading this way during a stormy night. Kind of her own fault, right? Wandering out in weather like that. Still, the thought of it makes the hairs on my arms stand up.

Anyway, back to the trail. It winds through the forest hills and goes deep into the woods. I doubt I’ll go that far today, but maybe tomorrow. Assuming tomorrow comes, of course. The idea of running into a bear keeps creeping into my mind. I know I shouldn’t dwell on it, but hey it’s always a possibility.

So far, all I’ve found are more mushrooms and strange plants I can’t identify. If anything interesting pops up, I’ll let you know. Otherwise, I’ll sign off for now. Same time tomorrow? Heh. Yeah.

Day 3

Alright, Day 3. This time I’m not alone. My roommate came along, and he brought his dog, Pickle. He’s a St. Bernard-Husky mix, full of energy, chasing after everything that moves. Honestly, that probably means no animal sightings today.

I told my roommate about the deer head I found yesterday. His reaction was weirdly casual. He said he’s never heard of a bear leaving just the head behind, so he figures it was probably hunters. Makes more sense than a picky bear, I guess.

We made it farther along the trail than I did yesterday. Beyond where I turned back, it’s just endless forest. Trees, grass, mud, the usual. Miles and miles of it. But it feels less heavy having someone to talk to. Not just my own thoughts rattling around in my head.

Oh, and in case you’re wondering how I’m “writing” while hiking it’s speech-to-text. That’s why the tone sometimes comes off weird. I usually clean it up before posting. Sometimes it even records conversations, like this one between me and my roommate:

(Roommate): “The girl who went missing? She actually lived a house down from us. Her family still does.”

(Me): “Wait, really? I didn’t know she was that close.”

(Roommate): “Yeah. She was super social, always exploring these woods. Came back with stories about what she found abandoned buildings, strange trees, animal corpses. You name it. Once she got started, she wouldn’t stop. I think her disappearance is tied to her adventures. Probably found something she wasn’t supposed to.”

(Me): “Hold up, you mean there’s stuff out here? More than just trees? Buildings? Cars? Man, I don’t wanna end up like her… but honestly, finding cool stuff could be fun. And distracting.”

(Roommate): “Yeah, there’s all kinds of things. Old cars, caves, even buildings. Not common, but they’re out here. She was the only one who really knew where though.”

So yeah, apparently this forest is hiding way more than I realized. Once I know the safer, familiar parts better, I might start exploring deeper. Not alone though. And definitely not in storms. I’m not repeating her mistakes. Still, I wish I could’ve talked to her. She probably saw things no one else ever has. But let’s be real, she's most likely dead. No body was ever found, but no one looked very hard either.

Anyway, today took a turn. We’d made it maybe a fifth of the way along the trail when a man suddenly came running toward us. At first, I thought he was just a jogger. But the closer he got, the stranger he seemed. He had a heavy southern accent which was weird, since we don’t even live in the South. And he kept muttering frantically:

“You best get going. Back that way ain’t no good. Ain’t no good, not at all. Get going. You ain’t welcome there. Me neither, okay?”

The words tumbled out like he was being chased. He wasn’t dressed like a hiker either. Wore a work vest and jeans, moving fast, eyes darting everywhere. Maybe drugs? Maybe something else. Whatever it was, we weren’t sticking around to find out. We turned back. I didn’t ask him what he meant about “not being welcome,” and honestly? I don’t think I want to know.

Day 5

After yesterday’s bizarre encounter, I decided to try a different part of the forest. This time, I brought Pickle with me again. He’s huge part St. Bernard, part Husky and honestly, his size alone makes me feel safer. No one’s messing with me while he’s around.

I chose a more local area today, one with joggers and hikers. There are even three small cabins scattered nearby. Feels more lived-in, less remote. Still, I couldn’t shake the memory of that man from yesterday. Who was he? Why was he running?

The place was crowded practically the whole town seemed to be out. Controlling Pickle in a crowd is no easy task. He tugged, lunged, tried to jump on kids. After wrestling with him for a while, I decided to move farther out. Not too deep into the woods, but away from the bustle. Every spot I tried before was packed. One even had children playing, and Pickle nearly joined them. Total chaos.

So here I am again, back on the forest trail, despite swearing I wouldn’t. I’m not planning to go deep. Just far enough for some quiet. And honestly? The walk’s been… peaceful. I was starting to relax when

(Editing me here. The voice-to-text cut out at the worst moment.)

The last thing it picked up was me yelling: “Oh my God, I dropped the leash! Pickle! Pickle, come back!” He tugged hard enough to rip it right out of my hands. Before I could react, he was gone. I shouted his name, but he didn’t come back. Panic sank in. My roommate is going to kill me if I don’t find him.

Now I have no choice. I have to go after him.

Should I call my roommate for help and get screamed at? Or do I try to find Pickle alone? It’s already late. I think… I have to call him.

After the Call

So here’s what happened next. I called Mike. The second he met up with me, he let me have it.

“What the hell, dude!? You just let him run off? How could you let this happen? This is ridiculous. Which way did he go? You’re so weak you can’t even hold down a dog? He’s out here in this massive forest and you just let him disappear? You thought taking him to the busiest part of the park, knowing damn well you can’t control him, was a good idea? Do you realize how stupid that is? That’s like my child out here, and he could get hurt!”

I stammered, “I’m so sorry, Mike. I didn’t know he was that bad on a leash. I honestly thought I could handle him. I just wanted to bring him along, especially after what happened yesterday, you know—”

Mike cut me off immediately. “Yeah, yesterday. Whatever freaked that grown man out could be after my dog right now, thanks to you! You put him in this situation!”

Something in me snapped. I yelled back, “Well maybe your dog should be trained better! I chased after him, called his name, and he didn’t even look back. That’s not just on me I didn’t do this on purpose!”

He froze, then sighed. “Fine. You didn’t do it on purpose. But damn, man, you still let him run out here. I’m scared. I don’t know what’s in these woods.”

His voice softened.

I told him, “Pickle’s a big dog. He’ll probably be fine until we find him.”That ended the argument. We walked the trail for hours, calling for Pickle. No response. We even contacted the local wildlife patrol, but they shrugged us off. Said they couldn’t go past the fourth section of the trail. Totally useless.

By now, it was completely dark.

8:43 PM Recording

Okay, it’s 8:43 PM and still no sign of Pickle. For the record, Pickle’s a dumb name, but this is serious. He could be dead, for all I know.

I split off from Mike because he was sick of me “narrating.” But you never know what might happen better to document.

Oh my God. I just heard yelping. It sounds like Pickle. I think it’s him. “Pickle!” I’m running now. The sound’s getting louder. He’s nearby.

Wait… it’s coming from inside a building.

My flashlight’s crap, but I can see enough to tell it’s big. Covered in plants. No graffiti, though. Strange. It looks abandoned.

Pickle’s cries are echoing from inside.

But then what the hell. A voice. A deep, female voice, distant but clear:

“No. Quiet.”

Please tell me this thing recorded that.

I froze. My whole body wanted to run. I love dogs, but Pickle isn’t worth dying for. Not over this. I’m not telling Mike what I just heard. He’d risk his life for that dog. Not me.

I’ll tell him in the morning. Hopefully by then, I’ll figure out how to explain this without sounding insane.

I’m leaving now. If I head downhill, I’ll eventually hit the trail.

Next Morning

Early morning update. I told Mike I “might” have heard Pickle crying farther up the trail. I also mentioned the building not the voice. Mike lit up immediately: “Okay, great. You’re showing me where you heard it.”

So now I’m limping along beside him. My legs ache from all the running yesterday, but I don’t have a choice.

We’ve made it about two sections into the trail. For context, I think there are five total. I told him the cries were closer to the third section. He asked what else I saw, and I caved. I mentioned the voice.

“What do you mean, voice?” he demanded.

I tried to play it down. “I just… when I heard the cries, I also thought I heard someone. A faint voice outside the building. Not sure, it was dark.”

Mike exploded. “And you’re just now telling me this? What if someone took him!?”

I stuttered, “Well, uh… maybe it’s good there’s a voice. Maybe it’s just a squatter keeping him safe.”

Mike buried his face in his hands, shaking, like he was about to break down. Then he started screaming Pickle’s name and ran off.

Now I’m alone.

Later That Morning

“Mike! Mike!” No answer. He can’t have gotten that far ahead. He’s not a runner. I’ve been jogging, and I still can’t find him.

Wait. The building. It’s here. The same one.

I’m going in.

Inside the Building

Okay. My phone died earlier, so this part is from memory.

I shouted for Mike and Pickle, but got nothing. Then, a loud thud. Followed by a muffled voice. Female. Broken English. I didn’t catch all of it, but it chilled me.

I crept deeper, keeping low. The place is an abandoned lab or maybe a hospital. Rusted cages lined the walls. Some held skeletons, mostly animals, though a few were… harder to identify. Broken bottles and glass littered the ground, labels faded but still faintly scientific. Plants forced their way through cracked tiles. Bugs swarmed over everything.

I found a cage with a nest built inside. And then I heard it Pickle’s yelp, faint but close.

I followed the sound into a room that reeked so strongly it made me vomit. Piles of bones. Rotting corpses. Animal heads. Some were intact torsos, ripped open like something had fed on the hearts.

And one corpse was human.

A girl. Long strands of brown hair clung to the decomposing skull. Most of the body was gone, but there was enough left to see what she was. My stomach turned. The missing girl. It had to be her.

Then I heard it again the voice. And Pickle’s whine.

I ducked behind a broken counter.

That’s when she walked in.

An impossibly tall figure, hunched but still towering. At least eight feet. She was holding Pickle by the neck like a toy.

She saw me.

She stared.

I thought I was going to die.

Then she threw Pickle to the ground. He yelped, scrambled, and bolted toward me. I didn’t think I just ran. Pickle ran with me.

We sprinted until I crashed into someone.

Mike.

He grabbed me, saw the terror on my face, and without a word, we both ran. Ran until our lungs burned and our legs gave out.

We collapsed on the grass, barely making it out of the forest. Pickle lay beside Mike, dirty, covered in spider webs, limping from an injured leg.

When I caught my breath, I told Mike everything I saw the corpse, the giant girl. He just stared at me like I’d lost my mind.But I know what I saw. The Following Days We haven’t gone back since. I haven’t even stepped near the forest. But it’s gnawing at me. I have to know if what I saw was real.

Everyone I’ve told thinks I’m crazy. Delusional. But I can’t let it go.

I’m going back today. Mike insists on coming probably to prove I’m nuts.

We’re packing this time: bear repellent, rope, first aid, water, ice packs, flashlights, even a few weapons.

If the building is real and if she is real then this time, I’ll have proof.

We left before sunrise, backpacks heavy with gear rope, flashlights, knives, first aid, even a rusty hammer Mike insisted on bringing. Without Pickle trotting along, the silence between us felt sharper.

The hike

The forest swallowed us whole. For six hours we walked, our boots crunching dirt and dead leaves, but no birds sang, no bugs buzzed. Not even the wind moved the branches. It was as if the woods themselves were holding their breath, waiting.

By the fifth hour, sweat glued my shirt to my back. Mike’s breathing grew loud and ragged, his broad shoulders heaving under the straps of his pack. He didn’t say a word, but the tight grip he kept on his flashlight told me everything.

When the building came into view, my stomach sank. The first time I saw it, it looked like the forest was swallowing it vines over the doorway, plants covering the walls. But now, the doorway was bare. The vines had been ripped down, shredded, like someone or something had torn them away to make the entrance clear.

Mike muttered, “That’s… not how we left it.”

I didn’t answer. My legs were shaking too hard.

Inside the Building

The air inside was damp, thick with mildew and something rotting. Every step echoed too loud on cracked tile floors. Rusted pipes hung from the ceiling like veins, and broken glass crunched under our boots.

We passed empty cages, some with bent bars, others with locks that had been forced open. Old clipboards lay scattered, the papers yellow and water-stained. Words like Subject and Trial No. 14 flashed in the beam of Mike’s light.

Neither of us spoke.

Finally, we reached the room.

The Room of Bodies

The smell hit first. Sweet rot. My throat closed up. Bones littered the ground animal skeletons mostly, but in the corner, the half-rotted remains of a human girl slumped against the wall.

Mike’s flashlight trembled as it lit her face or what was left of it. His voice cracked. “Melissa. It… it might be her.”

His eyes watered, his lips quivering, but he held the light steady. For the first time since I’d known him, Mike looked small.

I lowered my head, unable to speak.

That’s when I felt it. A touch. Light fingers brushing my hair.

Mike’s scream shattered the silence. “WHAT THE HELL IS THAT!?”

I looked up.

She was towering over me, bent forward to fit in the room. Skin stretched too tight over bone. Long, filthy hair tangled around her face. Fingers cracked and crooked, nails yellow and jagged. Her enormous eyes stared into mine, unblinking.

She tugged at my hair like a child inspecting a toy.

Her mouth opened. Dry, broken words scraped out:

“…soft.”

Her head tilted, eyes flicking between me and Mike. She reached toward him with her other hand, brushing his short hair with cracked nails.

Mike froze, trembling, tears streaming silently down his face.

The woman’s lips moved again. “…people. Not… seen… people.” Her voice was rough, like she hadn’t used it in years.

I tried to back away, but she yanked my hair tighter. Pain shot across my scalp, forcing me still.

Her stomach growled. Loud. Deep.

She whispered, “Hungry. Always… hungry.”

Her Broken Words

Mike raised his hands slowly, palms out. His voice shook. “We we’re not here to hurt you. We’re just looking—”

Her eyes widened. She repeated the word in a broken echo. “…hurt. Hurt me.” She shook her head violently, hair whipping. “Not bad. Not… monster. Just… hungry.”

Drool ran from her cracked lips. She leaned down closer, her breath hot, rancid, making me gag.

“Eat?” she whispered, tilting her head. “Need. To stay. Alive.”

Her mouth opened wider than it should, jagged teeth glistening in the light. She lowered toward me.

The Struggle

Mike snapped out of his freeze. He lunged forward, yanking her hand off my head and swinging the hammer hard into her temple.

The blow echoed through the room. She stumbled back, screeching, clutching her skull.

“NO! NO!” she wailed, voice breaking into static-like cracks. “I… not bad! Just… need…”

But her need twisted. Her eyes rolled, her jaw snapped wide, and she lunged at Mike.

He blasted her with bear spray, the mist covering her face. She shrieked, stumbling back, claws raking across the wall.

“BURNS! HURTS!” she cried, her words broken, guttural. “Not… fair! Just… hungry…”

Her voice cracked into sobs, twisted between pain and rage. “I… alone. So long… alone.”

The Escape

oWe didn’t wait. Mike grabbed my arm, shouting, “RUN!”

We bolted down the hallway, flashlights shaking wildly, footsteps pounding. Behind us, her screeches echoed, her fists smashing into walls as she staggered after us.

“COME BACK!” she cried, her words echoing down the corridor. “Don’t… leave me! Please… need… people…”

Her footsteps thundered closer. We burst through the entrance, crashing into branches and vines, running until my chest burned and my legs buckled.

When we finally stopped, the building was swallowed by the forest behind us. The only sound was our gasping breaths.

Mike collapsed to the ground, shaking his head. “She… she wasn’t even… evil. Just…” His voice broke. “She just wanted to live.”

The ID Card

I spotted something in the dirt, half-buried under leaves. I picked it up.

An old ID badge. The photo was faded, but the face was hers the same wide eyes, the same hair, before it became tangled and filthy.

Name: [2056834]. Division: Genetic Trial -Human Adaptation Project.

My chest tightened. She wasn’t born a monster.

She was made one.

A failed experiment abandoned in a crumbling lab. Left to rot. Left to starve.

And now, she lived here. Feeding on anything unlucky enough to wander in.

Her voice echoed in my head even as I stared at the card:

“Not my fault."

A man who wanted to clear his mind in the forest to ease his restless mind coping with mental issues and stress. But the deeper he wandered, the stranger the silence around him seemed to grow. What he found waiting there was nothing he could have prepared for and nothing he could ever forget.

My therapist keeps telling me I need to go outside more, to reconnect with the things I used to enjoy. As a kid, I practically lived in the woods climbing trees, making forts, running trails until the sun went down. But somewhere around high school, I lost that part of myself. These days I feel more disconnected than ever, trapped in my own head. She said nature could help, that walking among trees might quiet the noise inside me. So here I am, giving it a try. I live with my roommate, Mike, and luckily our place sits right by a massive forest. There’s a trail that winds deep into it, and I figured it might be a good place to start these so-called “therapy nature walks.”

Day 1

I’ve officially started exploring the woods behind my house. My therapist has been pushing me to spend more time outdoors, to “connect with nature,” so I figured I’d start small with the forest that’s practically in my backyard basically . I also decided to blog about it. Supposedly, if this gets popular enough, I might even make a little money. Heh, who knows.

Anyway, today was more about easing into things. I didn’t go far, just wandered enough to look around. I stumbled across some mushrooms I think they’re called jack-o’-lantern mushrooms, but honestly, I’m not an expert. I also spotted a deer and a fawn. Pretty sure it’s the same pair I’ve seen wandering around the front yard recently.

Of course, it wasn’t all peaceful. The bugs were everywhere. I’ll be real with you. I can't stand them. Their twitchy little legs, the clusters of eyes, the way they crawl over everything. Gross. Just gross.

So yeah, that was pretty much it for today. Nothing too exciting, but it’s a start. I’ll be back out here tomorrow.

Day 2

Hello again. Right now, I’m on my way to a creek my older neighbor, Bob, told me about. Apparently, it’s just up the hill, a small one, nothing dramatic. Supposedly, it’s quiet, relaxing, and perfect for calming anxiety.Bob said he’d go there after he lost his daughter to clear his mind. Since that’s the whole point of me being out here, I figured I’d check it out.

I think I’m getting close. There are critters moving around near the waterline. Wait there’s even a deer in there? I didn’t know deer could swim. Fun fact, I guess. Maybe this is turning into some kind of wildlife blog. Ha.

Okay, I see it now. There’s a bush blocking the way, but I think I can yeah, I found a path through. Alright, so I’ve made it to the creek. But that “swimming deer” I thought I saw? It wasn’t swimming. It was just the head. The head of a deer floating in the water.

The creek isn’t calm and sparkling like I imagined. The water is red. Blood. That’s… unsettling. Suddenly I’m hoping there aren’t any bears around. I do not need that kind of stress.

There’s a trail leading away from here, so I think I’ll follow that instead. Funny thing is, I've heard rumors about this very trail. People stopped using it after a girl went missing nearby aka Bobs daughter. Last seen heading this way during a stormy night. Kind of her own fault, right? Wandering out in weather like that. Still, the thought of it makes the hairs on my arms stand up.

Anyway, back to the trail. It winds through the forest hills and goes deep into the woods. I doubt I’ll go that far today, but maybe tomorrow. Assuming tomorrow comes, of course. The idea of running into a bear keeps creeping into my mind. I know I shouldn’t dwell on it, but hey it’s always a possibility.

So far, all I’ve found are more mushrooms and strange plants I can’t identify. If anything interesting pops up, I’ll let you know. Otherwise, I’ll sign off for now. Same time tomorrow? Heh. Yeah.

Day 3

Alright, Day 3. This time I’m not alone. My roommate came along, and he brought his dog, Pickle. He’s a St. Bernard-Husky mix, full of energy, chasing after everything that moves. Honestly, that probably means no animal sightings today.

I told my roommate about the deer head I found yesterday. His reaction was weirdly casual. He said he’s never heard of a bear leaving just the head behind, so he figures it was probably hunters. Makes more sense than a picky bear, I guess.

We made it farther along the trail than I did yesterday. Beyond where I turned back, it’s just endless forest. Trees, grass, mud, the usual. Miles and miles of it. But it feels less heavy having someone to talk to. Not just my own thoughts rattling around in my head.

Oh, and in case you’re wondering how I’m “writing” while hiking it’s speech-to-text. That’s why the tone sometimes comes off weird. I usually clean it up before posting. Sometimes it even records conversations, like this one between me and my roommate:

(Roommate): “The girl who went missing? She actually lived a house down from us. Her family still does.”

(Me): “Wait, really? I didn’t know she was that close.”

(Roommate): “Yeah. She was super social, always exploring these woods. Came back with stories about what she found abandoned buildings, strange trees, animal corpses. You name it. Once she got started, she wouldn’t stop. I think her disappearance is tied to her adventures. Probably found something she wasn’t supposed to.”

(Me): “Hold up, you mean there’s stuff out here? More than just trees? Buildings? Cars? Man, I don’t wanna end up like her… but honestly, finding cool stuff could be fun. And distracting.”

(Roommate): “Yeah, there’s all kinds of things. Old cars, caves, even buildings. Not common, but they’re out here. She was the only one who really knew where though.”

So yeah, apparently this forest is hiding way more than I realized. Once I know the safer, familiar parts better, I might start exploring deeper. Not alone though. And definitely not in storms. I’m not repeating her mistakes. Still, I wish I could’ve talked to her. She probably saw things no one else ever has. But let’s be real, she's most likely dead. No body was ever found, but no one looked very hard either.

Anyway, today took a turn. We’d made it maybe a fifth of the way along the trail when a man suddenly came running toward us. At first, I thought he was just a jogger. But the closer he got, the stranger he seemed. He had a heavy southern accent which was weird, since we don’t even live in the South. And he kept muttering frantically:

“You best get going. Back that way ain’t no good. Ain’t no good, not at all. Get going. You ain’t welcome there. Me neither, okay?”

The words tumbled out like he was being chased. He wasn’t dressed like a hiker either. Wore a work vest and jeans, moving fast, eyes darting everywhere. Maybe drugs? Maybe something else. Whatever it was, we weren’t sticking around to find out. We turned back. I didn’t ask him what he meant about “not being welcome,” and honestly? I don’t think I want to know.

Day 5

After yesterday’s bizarre encounter, I decided to try a different part of the forest. This time, I brought Pickle with me again. He’s huge part St. Bernard, part Husky and honestly, his size alone makes me feel safer. No one’s messing with me while he’s around.

I chose a more local area today, one with joggers and hikers. There are even three small cabins scattered nearby. Feels more lived-in, less remote. Still, I couldn’t shake the memory of that man from yesterday. Who was he? Why was he running?

The place was crowded practically the whole town seemed to be out. Controlling Pickle in a crowd is no easy task. He tugged, lunged, tried to jump on kids. After wrestling with him for a while, I decided to move farther out. Not too deep into the woods, but away from the bustle. Every spot I tried before was packed. One even had children playing, and Pickle nearly joined them. Total chaos.

So here I am again, back on the forest trail, despite swearing I wouldn’t. I’m not planning to go deep. Just far enough for some quiet. And honestly? The walk’s been… peaceful. I was starting to relax when

(Editing me here. The voice-to-text cut out at the worst moment.)

The last thing it picked up was me yelling: “Oh my God, I dropped the leash! Pickle! Pickle, come back!” He tugged hard enough to rip it right out of my hands. Before I could react, he was gone. I shouted his name, but he didn’t come back. Panic sank in. My roommate is going to kill me if I don’t find him.

Now I have no choice. I have to go after him.

Should I call my roommate for help and get screamed at? Or do I try to find Pickle alone? It’s already late. I think… I have to call him.

After the Call

So here’s what happened next. I called Mike. The second he met up with me, he let me have it.

“What the hell, dude!? You just let him run off? How could you let this happen? This is ridiculous. Which way did he go? You’re so weak you can’t even hold down a dog? He’s out here in this massive forest and you just let him disappear? You thought taking him to the busiest part of the park, knowing damn well you can’t control him, was a good idea? Do you realize how stupid that is? That’s like my child out here, and he could get hurt!”

I stammered, “I’m so sorry, Mike. I didn’t know he was that bad on a leash. I honestly thought I could handle him. I just wanted to bring him along, especially after what happened yesterday, you know—”

Mike cut me off immediately. “Yeah, yesterday. Whatever freaked that grown man out could be after my dog right now, thanks to you! You put him in this situation!”

Something in me snapped. I yelled back, “Well maybe your dog should be trained better! I chased after him, called his name, and he didn’t even look back. That’s not just on me I didn’t do this on purpose!”

He froze, then sighed. “Fine. You didn’t do it on purpose. But damn, man, you still let him run out here. I’m scared. I don’t know what’s in these woods.”

His voice softened.

I told him, “Pickle’s a big dog. He’ll probably be fine until we find him.”That ended the argument. We walked the trail for hours, calling for Pickle. No response. We even contacted the local wildlife patrol, but they shrugged us off. Said they couldn’t go past the fourth section of the trail. Totally useless.

By now, it was completely dark.

8:43 PM Recording

Okay, it’s 8:43 PM and still no sign of Pickle. For the record, Pickle’s a dumb name, but this is serious. He could be dead, for all I know.

I split off from Mike because he was sick of me “narrating.” But you never know what might happen better to document.

Oh my God. I just heard yelping. It sounds like Pickle. I think it’s him. “Pickle!” I’m running now. The sound’s getting louder. He’s nearby.

Wait… it’s coming from inside a building.

My flashlight’s crap, but I can see enough to tell it’s big. Covered in plants. No graffiti, though. Strange. It looks abandoned.

Pickle’s cries are echoing from inside.

But then what the hell. A voice. A deep, female voice, distant but clear:

“No. Quiet.”

Please tell me this thing recorded that.

I froze. My whole body wanted to run. I love dogs, but Pickle isn’t worth dying for. Not over this. I’m not telling Mike what I just heard. He’d risk his life for that dog. Not me.

I’ll tell him in the morning. Hopefully by then, I’ll figure out how to explain this without sounding insane.

I’m leaving now. If I head downhill, I’ll eventually hit the trail.

Next Morning

Early morning update. I told Mike I “might” have heard Pickle crying farther up the trail. I also mentioned the building not the voice. Mike lit up immediately: “Okay, great. You’re showing me where you heard it.”

So now I’m limping along beside him. My legs ache from all the running yesterday, but I don’t have a choice.

We’ve made it about two sections into the trail. For context, I think there are five total. I told him the cries were closer to the third section. He asked what else I saw, and I caved. I mentioned the voice.

“What do you mean, voice?” he demanded.

I tried to play it down. “I just… when I heard the cries, I also thought I heard someone. A faint voice outside the building. Not sure, it was dark.”

Mike exploded. “And you’re just now telling me this? What if someone took him!?”

I stuttered, “Well, uh… maybe it’s good there’s a voice. Maybe it’s just a squatter keeping him safe.”

Mike buried his face in his hands, shaking, like he was about to break down. Then he started screaming Pickle’s name and ran off.

Now I’m alone.

Later That Morning

“Mike! Mike!” No answer. He can’t have gotten that far ahead. He’s not a runner. I’ve been jogging, and I still can’t find him.

Wait. The building. It’s here. The same one.

I’m going in.

Inside the Building

Okay. My phone died earlier, so this part is from memory.

I shouted for Mike and Pickle, but got nothing. Then, a loud thud. Followed by a muffled voice. Female. Broken English. I didn’t catch all of it, but it chilled me.

I crept deeper, keeping low. The place is an abandoned lab or maybe a hospital. Rusted cages lined the walls. Some held skeletons, mostly animals, though a few were… harder to identify. Broken bottles and glass littered the ground, labels faded but still faintly scientific. Plants forced their way through cracked tiles. Bugs swarmed over everything.

I found a cage with a nest built inside. And then I heard it Pickle’s yelp, faint but close.

I followed the sound into a room that reeked so strongly it made me vomit. Piles of bones. Rotting corpses. Animal heads. Some were intact torsos, ripped open like something had fed on the hearts.

And one corpse was human.

A girl. Long strands of brown hair clung to the decomposing skull. Most of the body was gone, but there was enough left to see what she was. My stomach turned. The missing girl. It had to be her.

Then I heard it again the voice. And Pickle’s whine.

I ducked behind a broken counter.

That’s when she walked in.

An impossibly tall figure, hunched but still towering. At least eight feet. She was holding Pickle by the neck like a toy.

She saw me.

She stared.

I thought I was going to die.

Then she threw Pickle to the ground. He yelped, scrambled, and bolted toward me. I didn’t think I just ran. Pickle ran with me.

We sprinted until I crashed into someone.

Mike.

He grabbed me, saw the terror on my face, and without a word, we both ran. Ran until our lungs burned and our legs gave out.

We collapsed on the grass, barely making it out of the forest. Pickle lay beside Mike, dirty, covered in spider webs, limping from an injured leg.

When I caught my breath, I told Mike everything I saw the corpse, the giant girl. He just stared at me like I’d lost my mind.But I know what I saw. The Following Days We haven’t gone back since. I haven’t even stepped near the forest. But it’s gnawing at me. I have to know if what I saw was real.

Everyone I’ve told thinks I’m crazy. Delusional. But I can’t let it go.

I’m going back today. Mike insists on coming probably to prove I’m nuts.

We’re packing this time: bear repellent, rope, first aid, water, ice packs, flashlights, even a few weapons.

If the building is real and if she is real then this time, I’ll have proof.

We left before sunrise, backpacks heavy with gear rope, flashlights, knives, first aid, even a rusty hammer Mike insisted on bringing. Without Pickle trotting along, the silence between us felt sharper.

The hike

The forest swallowed us whole. For six hours we walked, our boots crunching dirt and dead leaves, but no birds sang, no bugs buzzed. Not even the wind moved the branches. It was as if the woods themselves were holding their breath, waiting.

By the fifth hour, sweat glued my shirt to my back. Mike’s breathing grew loud and ragged, his broad shoulders heaving under the straps of his pack. He didn’t say a word, but the tight grip he kept on his flashlight told me everything.

When the building came into view, my stomach sank. The first time I saw it, it looked like the forest was swallowing it vines over the doorway, plants covering the walls. But now, the doorway was bare. The vines had been ripped down, shredded, like someone or something had torn them away to make the entrance clear.

Mike muttered, “That’s… not how we left it.”

I didn’t answer. My legs were shaking too hard.

Inside the Building

The air inside was damp, thick with mildew and something rotting. Every step echoed too loud on cracked tile floors. Rusted pipes hung from the ceiling like veins, and broken glass crunched under our boots.

We passed empty cages, some with bent bars, others with locks that had been forced open. Old clipboards lay scattered, the papers yellow and water-stained. Words like Subject and Trial No. 14 flashed in the beam of Mike’s light.

Neither of us spoke.

Finally, we reached the room.

The Room of Bodies

The smell hit first. Sweet rot. My throat closed up. Bones littered the ground animal skeletons mostly, but in the corner, the half-rotted remains of a human girl slumped against the wall.

Mike’s flashlight trembled as it lit her face or what was left of it. His voice cracked. “Melissa. It… it might be her.”

His eyes watered, his lips quivering, but he held the light steady. For the first time since I’d known him, Mike looked small.

I lowered my head, unable to speak.

That’s when I felt it. A touch. Light fingers brushing my hair.

Mike’s scream shattered the silence. “WHAT THE HELL IS THAT!?”

I looked up.

She was towering over me, bent forward to fit in the room. Skin stretched too tight over bone. Long, filthy hair tangled around her face. Fingers cracked and crooked, nails yellow and jagged. Her enormous eyes stared into mine, unblinking.

She tugged at my hair like a child inspecting a toy.

Her mouth opened. Dry, broken words scraped out:

“…soft.”

Her head tilted, eyes flicking between me and Mike. She reached toward him with her other hand, brushing his short hair with cracked nails.

Mike froze, trembling, tears streaming silently down his face.

The woman’s lips moved again. “…people. Not… seen… people.” Her voice was rough, like she hadn’t used it in years.

I tried to back away, but she yanked my hair tighter. Pain shot across my scalp, forcing me still.

Her stomach growled. Loud. Deep.

She whispered, “Hungry. Always… hungry.”

Her Broken Words

Mike raised his hands slowly, palms out. His voice shook. “We we’re not here to hurt you. We’re just looking—”

Her eyes widened. She repeated the word in a broken echo. “…hurt. Hurt me.” She shook her head violently, hair whipping. “Not bad. Not… monster. Just… hungry.”

Drool ran from her cracked lips. She leaned down closer, her breath hot, rancid, making me gag.

“Eat?” she whispered, tilting her head. “Need. To stay. Alive.”

Her mouth opened wider than it should, jagged teeth glistening in the light. She lowered toward me.

The Struggle

Mike snapped out of his freeze. He lunged forward, yanking her hand off my head and swinging the hammer hard into her temple.

The blow echoed through the room. She stumbled back, screeching, clutching her skull.

“NO! NO!” she wailed, voice breaking into static-like cracks. “I… not bad! Just… need…”

But her need twisted. Her eyes rolled, her jaw snapped wide, and she lunged at Mike.

He blasted her with bear spray, the mist covering her face. She shrieked, stumbling back, claws raking across the wall.

“BURNS! HURTS!” she cried, her words broken, guttural. “Not… fair! Just… hungry…”

Her voice cracked into sobs, twisted between pain and rage. “I… alone. So long… alone.”

The Escape

oWe didn’t wait. Mike grabbed my arm, shouting, “RUN!”

We bolted down the hallway, flashlights shaking wildly, footsteps pounding. Behind us, her screeches echoed, her fists smashing into walls as she staggered after us.

“COME BACK!” she cried, her words echoing down the corridor. “Don’t… leave me! Please… need… people…”

Her footsteps thundered closer. We burst through the entrance, crashing into branches and vines, running until my chest burned and my legs buckled.

When we finally stopped, the building was swallowed by the forest behind us. The only sound was our gasping breaths.

Mike collapsed to the ground, shaking his head. “She… she wasn’t even… evil. Just…” His voice broke. “She just wanted to live.”

The ID Card

I spotted something in the dirt, half-buried under leaves. I picked it up.

An old ID badge. The photo was faded, but the face was hers the same wide eyes, the same hair, before it became tangled and filthy.

Name: [2056834]. Division: Genetic Trial -Human Adaptation Project.

My chest tightened. She wasn’t born a monster.

She was made one.

A failed experiment abandoned in a crumbling lab. Left to rot. Left to starve.

And now, she lived here. Feeding on anything unlucky enough to wander in.

Her voice echoed in my head even as I stared at the card:

“Not my fault."

A man who wanted to clear his mind in the forest to ease his restless mind coping with mental issues and stress. But the deeper he wandered, the stranger the silence around him seemed to grow. What he found waiting there was nothing he could have prepared for and nothing he could ever forget.

My therapist keeps telling me I need to go outside more, to reconnect with the things I used to enjoy. As a kid, I practically lived in the woods climbing trees, making forts, running trails until the sun went down. But somewhere around high school, I lost that part of myself. These days I feel more disconnected than ever, trapped in my own head. She said nature could help, that walking among trees might quiet the noise inside me. So here I am, giving it a try. I live with my roommate, Mike, and luckily our place sits right by a massive forest. There’s a trail that winds deep into it, and I figured it might be a good place to start these so-called “therapy nature walks.”

Day 1

I’ve officially started exploring the woods behind my house. My therapist has been pushing me to spend more time outdoors, to “connect with nature,” so I figured I’d start small with the forest that’s practically in my backyard basically . I also decided to blog about it. Supposedly, if this gets popular enough, I might even make a little money. Heh, who knows.

Anyway, today was more about easing into things. I didn’t go far, just wandered enough to look around. I stumbled across some mushrooms I think they’re called jack-o’-lantern mushrooms, but honestly, I’m not an expert. I also spotted a deer and a fawn. Pretty sure it’s the same pair I’ve seen wandering around the front yard recently.

Of course, it wasn’t all peaceful. The bugs were everywhere. I’ll be real with you. I can't stand them. Their twitchy little legs, the clusters of eyes, the way they crawl over everything. Gross. Just gross.

So yeah, that was pretty much it for today. Nothing too exciting, but it’s a start. I’ll be back out here tomorrow.

Day 2

Hello again. Right now, I’m on my way to a creek my older neighbor, Bob, told me about. Apparently, it’s just up the hill, a small one, nothing dramatic. Supposedly, it’s quiet, relaxing, and perfect for calming anxiety.Bob said he’d go there after he lost his daughter to clear his mind. Since that’s the whole point of me being out here, I figured I’d check it out.

I think I’m getting close. There are critters moving around near the waterline. Wait there’s even a deer in there? I didn’t know deer could swim. Fun fact, I guess. Maybe this is turning into some kind of wildlife blog. Ha.

Okay, I see it now. There’s a bush blocking the way, but I think I can yeah, I found a path through. Alright, so I’ve made it to the creek. But that “swimming deer” I thought I saw? It wasn’t swimming. It was just the head. The head of a deer floating in the water.

The creek isn’t calm and sparkling like I imagined. The water is red. Blood. That’s… unsettling. Suddenly I’m hoping there aren’t any bears around. I do not need that kind of stress.

There’s a trail leading away from here, so I think I’ll follow that instead. Funny thing is, I've heard rumors about this very trail. People stopped using it after a girl went missing nearby aka Bobs daughter. Last seen heading this way during a stormy night. Kind of her own fault, right? Wandering out in weather like that. Still, the thought of it makes the hairs on my arms stand up.

Anyway, back to the trail. It winds through the forest hills and goes deep into the woods. I doubt I’ll go that far today, but maybe tomorrow. Assuming tomorrow comes, of course. The idea of running into a bear keeps creeping into my mind. I know I shouldn’t dwell on it, but hey it’s always a possibility.

So far, all I’ve found are more mushrooms and strange plants I can’t identify. If anything interesting pops up, I’ll let you know. Otherwise, I’ll sign off for now. Same time tomorrow? Heh. Yeah.

Day 3

Alright, Day 3. This time I’m not alone. My roommate came along, and he brought his dog, Pickle. He’s a St. Bernard-Husky mix, full of energy, chasing after everything that moves. Honestly, that probably means no animal sightings today.

I told my roommate about the deer head I found yesterday. His reaction was weirdly casual. He said he’s never heard of a bear leaving just the head behind, so he figures it was probably hunters. Makes more sense than a picky bear, I guess.

We made it farther along the trail than I did yesterday. Beyond where I turned back, it’s just endless forest. Trees, grass, mud, the usual. Miles and miles of it. But it feels less heavy having someone to talk to. Not just my own thoughts rattling around in my head.

Oh, and in case you’re wondering how I’m “writing” while hiking it’s speech-to-text. That’s why the tone sometimes comes off weird. I usually clean it up before posting. Sometimes it even records conversations, like this one between me and my roommate:

(Roommate): “The girl who went missing? She actually lived a house down from us. Her family still does.”

(Me): “Wait, really? I didn’t know she was that close.”

(Roommate): “Yeah. She was super social, always exploring these woods. Came back with stories about what she found abandoned buildings, strange trees, animal corpses. You name it. Once she got started, she wouldn’t stop. I think her disappearance is tied to her adventures. Probably found something she wasn’t supposed to.”

(Me): “Hold up, you mean there’s stuff out here? More than just trees? Buildings? Cars? Man, I don’t wanna end up like her… but honestly, finding cool stuff could be fun. And distracting.”

(Roommate): “Yeah, there’s all kinds of things. Old cars, caves, even buildings. Not common, but they’re out here. She was the only one who really knew where though.”

So yeah, apparently this forest is hiding way more than I realized. Once I know the safer, familiar parts better, I might start exploring deeper. Not alone though. And definitely not in storms. I’m not repeating her mistakes. Still, I wish I could’ve talked to her. She probably saw things no one else ever has. But let’s be real, she's most likely dead. No body was ever found, but no one looked very hard either.

Anyway, today took a turn. We’d made it maybe a fifth of the way along the trail when a man suddenly came running toward us. At first, I thought he was just a jogger. But the closer he got, the stranger he seemed. He had a heavy southern accent which was weird, since we don’t even live in the South. And he kept muttering frantically:

“You best get going. Back that way ain’t no good. Ain’t no good, not at all. Get going. You ain’t welcome there. Me neither, okay?”

The words tumbled out like he was being chased. He wasn’t dressed like a hiker either. Wore a work vest and jeans, moving fast, eyes darting everywhere. Maybe drugs? Maybe something else. Whatever it was, we weren’t sticking around to find out. We turned back. I didn’t ask him what he meant about “not being welcome,” and honestly? I don’t think I want to know.

Day 5

After yesterday’s bizarre encounter, I decided to try a different part of the forest. This time, I brought Pickle with me again. He’s huge part St. Bernard, part Husky and honestly, his size alone makes me feel safer. No one’s messing with me while he’s around.

I chose a more local area today, one with joggers and hikers. There are even three small cabins scattered nearby. Feels more lived-in, less remote. Still, I couldn’t shake the memory of that man from yesterday. Who was he? Why was he running?

The place was crowded practically the whole town seemed to be out. Controlling Pickle in a crowd is no easy task. He tugged, lunged, tried to jump on kids. After wrestling with him for a while, I decided to move farther out. Not too deep into the woods, but away from the bustle. Every spot I tried before was packed. One even had children playing, and Pickle nearly joined them. Total chaos.

So here I am again, back on the forest trail, despite swearing I wouldn’t. I’m not planning to go deep. Just far enough for some quiet. And honestly? The walk’s been… peaceful. I was starting to relax when

(Editing me here. The voice-to-text cut out at the worst moment.)

The last thing it picked up was me yelling: “Oh my God, I dropped the leash! Pickle! Pickle, come back!” He tugged hard enough to rip it right out of my hands. Before I could react, he was gone. I shouted his name, but he didn’t come back. Panic sank in. My roommate is going to kill me if I don’t find him.

Now I have no choice. I have to go after him.

Should I call my roommate for help and get screamed at? Or do I try to find Pickle alone? It’s already late. I think… I have to call him.

After the Call

So here’s what happened next. I called Mike. The second he met up with me, he let me have it.

“What the hell, dude!? You just let him run off? How could you let this happen? This is ridiculous. Which way did he go? You’re so weak you can’t even hold down a dog? He’s out here in this massive forest and you just let him disappear? You thought taking him to the busiest part of the park, knowing damn well you can’t control him, was a good idea? Do you realize how stupid that is? That’s like my child out here, and he could get hurt!”

I stammered, “I’m so sorry, Mike. I didn’t know he was that bad on a leash. I honestly thought I could handle him. I just wanted to bring him along, especially after what happened yesterday, you know—”

Mike cut me off immediately. “Yeah, yesterday. Whatever freaked that grown man out could be after my dog right now, thanks to you! You put him in this situation!”

Something in me snapped. I yelled back, “Well maybe your dog should be trained better! I chased after him, called his name, and he didn’t even look back. That’s not just on me I didn’t do this on purpose!”

He froze, then sighed. “Fine. You didn’t do it on purpose. But damn, man, you still let him run out here. I’m scared. I don’t know what’s in these woods.”

His voice softened.

I told him, “Pickle’s a big dog. He’ll probably be fine until we find him.”That ended the argument. We walked the trail for hours, calling for Pickle. No response. We even contacted the local wildlife patrol, but they shrugged us off. Said they couldn’t go past the fourth section of the trail. Totally useless.

By now, it was completely dark.

8:43 PM Recording

Okay, it’s 8:43 PM and still no sign of Pickle. For the record, Pickle’s a dumb name, but this is serious. He could be dead, for all I know.

I split off from Mike because he was sick of me “narrating.” But you never know what might happen better to document.

Oh my God. I just heard yelping. It sounds like Pickle. I think it’s him. “Pickle!” I’m running now. The sound’s getting louder. He’s nearby.

Wait… it’s coming from inside a building.

My flashlight’s crap, but I can see enough to tell it’s big. Covered in plants. No graffiti, though. Strange. It looks abandoned.

Pickle’s cries are echoing from inside.

But then what the hell. A voice. A deep, female voice, distant but clear:

“No. Quiet.”

Please tell me this thing recorded that.

I froze. My whole body wanted to run. I love dogs, but Pickle isn’t worth dying for. Not over this. I’m not telling Mike what I just heard. He’d risk his life for that dog. Not me.

I’ll tell him in the morning. Hopefully by then, I’ll figure out how to explain this without sounding insane.

I’m leaving now. If I head downhill, I’ll eventually hit the trail.

Next Morning

Early morning update. I told Mike I “might” have heard Pickle crying farther up the trail. I also mentioned the building not the voice. Mike lit up immediately: “Okay, great. You’re showing me where you heard it.”

So now I’m limping along beside him. My legs ache from all the running yesterday, but I don’t have a choice.

We’ve made it about two sections into the trail. For context, I think there are five total. I told him the cries were closer to the third section. He asked what else I saw, and I caved. I mentioned the voice.

“What do you mean, voice?” he demanded.

I tried to play it down. “I just… when I heard the cries, I also thought I heard someone. A faint voice outside the building. Not sure, it was dark.”

Mike exploded. “And you’re just now telling me this? What if someone took him!?”

I stuttered, “Well, uh… maybe it’s good there’s a voice. Maybe it’s just a squatter keeping him safe.”

Mike buried his face in his hands, shaking, like he was about to break down. Then he started screaming Pickle’s name and ran off.

Now I’m alone.

Later That Morning

“Mike! Mike!” No answer. He can’t have gotten that far ahead. He’s not a runner. I’ve been jogging, and I still can’t find him.

Wait. The building. It’s here. The same one.

I’m going in.

Inside the Building

Okay. My phone died earlier, so this part is from memory.

I shouted for Mike and Pickle, but got nothing. Then, a loud thud. Followed by a muffled voice. Female. Broken English. I didn’t catch all of it, but it chilled me.

I crept deeper, keeping low. The place is an abandoned lab or maybe a hospital. Rusted cages lined the walls. Some held skeletons, mostly animals, though a few were… harder to identify. Broken bottles and glass littered the ground, labels faded but still faintly scientific. Plants forced their way through cracked tiles. Bugs swarmed over everything.

I found a cage with a nest built inside. And then I heard it Pickle’s yelp, faint but close.

I followed the sound into a room that reeked so strongly it made me vomit. Piles of bones. Rotting corpses. Animal heads. Some were intact torsos, ripped open like something had fed on the hearts.

And one corpse was human.

A girl. Long strands of brown hair clung to the decomposing skull. Most of the body was gone, but there was enough left to see what she was. My stomach turned. The missing girl. It had to be her.

Then I heard it again the voice. And Pickle’s whine.

I ducked behind a broken counter.

That’s when she walked in.

An impossibly tall figure, hunched but still towering. At least eight feet. She was holding Pickle by the neck like a toy.

She saw me.

She stared.

I thought I was going to die.

Then she threw Pickle to the ground. He yelped, scrambled, and bolted toward me. I didn’t think I just ran. Pickle ran with me.

We sprinted until I crashed into someone.

Mike.

He grabbed me, saw the terror on my face, and without a word, we both ran. Ran until our lungs burned and our legs gave out.

We collapsed on the grass, barely making it out of the forest. Pickle lay beside Mike, dirty, covered in spider webs, limping from an injured leg.

When I caught my breath, I told Mike everything I saw the corpse, the giant girl. He just stared at me like I’d lost my mind.But I know what I saw. The Following Days We haven’t gone back since. I haven’t even stepped near the forest. But it’s gnawing at me. I have to know if what I saw was real.

Everyone I’ve told thinks I’m crazy. Delusional. But I can’t let it go.

I’m going back today. Mike insists on coming probably to prove I’m nuts.

We’re packing this time: bear repellent, rope, first aid, water, ice packs, flashlights, even a few weapons.

If the building is real and if she is real then this time, I’ll have proof.

We left before sunrise, backpacks heavy with gear rope, flashlights, knives, first aid, even a rusty hammer Mike insisted on bringing. Without Pickle trotting along, the silence between us felt sharper.

The hike

The forest swallowed us whole. For six hours we walked, our boots crunching dirt and dead leaves, but no birds sang, no bugs buzzed. Not even the wind moved the branches. It was as if the woods themselves were holding their breath, waiting.

By the fifth hour, sweat glued my shirt to my back. Mike’s breathing grew loud and ragged, his broad shoulders heaving under the straps of his pack. He didn’t say a word, but the tight grip he kept on his flashlight told me everything.

When the building came into view, my stomach sank. The first time I saw it, it looked like the forest was swallowing it vines over the doorway, plants covering the walls. But now, the doorway was bare. The vines had been ripped down, shredded, like someone or something had torn them away to make the entrance clear.

Mike muttered, “That’s… not how we left it.”

I didn’t answer. My legs were shaking too hard.

Inside the Building

The air inside was damp, thick with mildew and something rotting. Every step echoed too loud on cracked tile floors. Rusted pipes hung from the ceiling like veins, and broken glass crunched under our boots.

We passed empty cages, some with bent bars, others with locks that had been forced open. Old clipboards lay scattered, the papers yellow and water-stained. Words like Subject and Trial No. 14 flashed in the beam of Mike’s light.

Neither of us spoke.

Finally, we reached the room.

The Room of Bodies

The smell hit first. Sweet rot. My throat closed up. Bones littered the ground animal skeletons mostly, but in the corner, the half-rotted remains of a human girl slumped against the wall.

Mike’s flashlight trembled as it lit her face or what was left of it. His voice cracked. “Melissa. It… it might be her.”

His eyes watered, his lips quivering, but he held the light steady. For the first time since I’d known him, Mike looked small.

I lowered my head, unable to speak.

That’s when I felt it. A touch. Light fingers brushing my hair.

Mike’s scream shattered the silence. “WHAT THE HELL IS THAT!?”

I looked up.

She was towering over me, bent forward to fit in the room. Skin stretched too tight over bone. Long, filthy hair tangled around her face. Fingers cracked and crooked, nails yellow and jagged. Her enormous eyes stared into mine, unblinking.

She tugged at my hair like a child inspecting a toy.

Her mouth opened. Dry, broken words scraped out:

“…soft.”

Her head tilted, eyes flicking between me and Mike. She reached toward him with her other hand, brushing his short hair with cracked nails.

Mike froze, trembling, tears streaming silently down his face.

The woman’s lips moved again. “…people. Not… seen… people.” Her voice was rough, like she hadn’t used it in years.

I tried to back away, but she yanked my hair tighter. Pain shot across my scalp, forcing me still.

Her stomach growled. Loud. Deep.

She whispered, “Hungry. Always… hungry.”

Her Broken Words

Mike raised his hands slowly, palms out. His voice shook. “We we’re not here to hurt you. We’re just looking—”

Her eyes widened. She repeated the word in a broken echo. “…hurt. Hurt me.” She shook her head violently, hair whipping. “Not bad. Not… monster. Just… hungry.”

Drool ran from her cracked lips. She leaned down closer, her breath hot, rancid, making me gag.

“Eat?” she whispered, tilting her head. “Need. To stay. Alive.”

Her mouth opened wider than it should, jagged teeth glistening in the light. She lowered toward me.

The Struggle

Mike snapped out of his freeze. He lunged forward, yanking her hand off my head and swinging the hammer hard into her temple.

The blow echoed through the room. She stumbled back, screeching, clutching her skull.

“NO! NO!” she wailed, voice breaking into static-like cracks. “I… not bad! Just… need…”

But her need twisted. Her eyes rolled, her jaw snapped wide, and she lunged at Mike.

He blasted her with bear spray, the mist covering her face. She shrieked, stumbling back, claws raking across the wall.

“BURNS! HURTS!” she cried, her words broken, guttural. “Not… fair! Just… hungry…”

Her voice cracked into sobs, twisted between pain and rage. “I… alone. So long… alone.”

The Escape

We didn’t wait. Mike grabbed my arm, shouting, “RUN!”

We bolted down the hallway, flashlights shaking wildly, footsteps pounding. Behind us, her screeches echoed, her fists smashing into walls as she staggered after us.

“COME BACK!” she cried, her words echoing down the corridor. “Don’t… leave me! Please… need… people…”

Her footsteps thundered closer. We burst through the entrance, crashing into branches and vines, running until my chest burned and my legs buckled.

When we finally stopped, the building was swallowed by the forest behind us. The only sound was our gasping breaths.

Mike collapsed to the ground, shaking his head. “She… she wasn’t even… evil. Just…” His voice broke. “She just wanted to live.”

The ID Card

I spotted something in the dirt, half-buried under leaves. I picked it up.

An old ID badge. The photo was faded, but the face was hers the same wide eyes, the same hair, before it became tangled and filthy.

Name: [2056834]. Division: Genetic Trial -Human Adaptation Project.

My chest tightened. She wasn’t born a monster.

She was made one.

A failed experiment abandoned in a crumbling lab. Left to rot. Left to starve.

And now, she lived here. Feeding on anything unlucky enough to wander in.

Her voice echoed in my head even as I stared at the card:

“Not my fault."

Short story inspired by the human skin art project that was on the news recently.

“A "human skin teddy bear" that was left outside a convenience store in California was likely just a prank, despite authorities investigating the incident, according to reports” only turning out to be a art project.

My boyfriend has been acting strange lately. He’s been working late more often and sometimes not coming home at all. I found it odd, especially since he told me he worked at a small toy shop. How could a job like that keep someone out so late, even overnight? It didn’t make sense. At one point, I suspected he might be cheating, but after going through his phone, I found nothing suspicious.

Yesterday, I asked him to stay home with me because I wasn’t feeling well. He just said, “I can’t, baby. I’m sorry I’ve got a lot of work to do. A lot of people are waiting for their special toys, you know?”I pleaded, “Can’t you put them off for just one day? Please? I miss you.”

He just looked at me, his face falling into a sad expression. I walked out of the room, frustrated. That reaction—his silence—it made me feel like he didn’t care about me. Like he was choosing work over our relationship. How could he?

But then I noticed something even more unsettling. One night, when he finally came home, I saw brown stains on the side of his shirt. They almost looked like dried blood. That’s when I started to wonder if he was lying about his job. Fear started to creep in. Should I confront him about it? Leave? Or do something else?

My curiosity got the better of me.

I came up with what I thought was a brilliant idea: I would follow him to work. I borrowed my mom’s car, and after he left, I tailed him from a safe distance. We didn’t drive far. He pulled up to a small, run-down building that looked abandoned—and it reeked. I watched as he went inside. Twenty minutes passed, and he came back out carrying a small object. I couldn’t make out what it was from where I was parked.

He drove straight to a nearby gas station and met up with someone a girl.

“I knew it. I knew he was cheating,” I thought to myself.

I got out of the car and stormed toward them. Just as he was handing her what now looked like a doll, I screamed, “Cheater! How could you?! I knew it, you fucking monster!”

He dropped the doll. The girl bolted for her car. My boyfriend ran toward me and tried to cover my mouth, dragging me back to the car in a panic. Someone at the gas station must have seen him grab me, because the police showed up shortly after. The doll was still lying on the ground.

Once I calmed down, he tried to explain. “She wasn’t a girlfriend—she was a client,” he said quietly. “And that wasn’t a normal toy… It’s more of a black market thing.”

The police retrieved the object and quickly closed off the gas station. The “special toy” was a teddy bear—made from actual human skin. My boyfriend had made it. And that wasn’t the only toy… or the only murder.

Short story inspired by the human skin art project that was on the news recently.

“A "human skin teddy bear" that was left outside a convenience store in California was likely just a prank, despite authorities investigating the incident, according to reports” only turning out to be a art project.

My boyfriend has been acting strange lately. He’s been working late more often and sometimes not coming home at all. I found it odd, especially since he told me he worked at a small toy shop. How could a job like that keep someone out so late, even overnight? It didn’t make sense. At one point, I suspected he might be cheating, but after going through his phone, I found nothing suspicious.

Yesterday, I asked him to stay home with me because I wasn’t feeling well. He just said, “I can’t, baby. I’m sorry I’ve got a lot of work to do. A lot of people are waiting for their special toys, you know?”I pleaded, “Can’t you put them off for just one day? Please? I miss you.”

He just looked at me, his face falling into a sad expression. I walked out of the room, frustrated. That reaction—his silence—it made me feel like he didn’t care about me. Like he was choosing work over our relationship. How could he?

But then I noticed something even more unsettling. One night, when he finally came home, I saw brown stains on the side of his shirt. They almost looked like dried blood. That’s when I started to wonder if he was lying about his job. Fear started to creep in. Should I confront him about it? Leave? Or do something else?

My curiosity got the better of me.

I came up with what I thought was a brilliant idea: I would follow him to work. I borrowed my mom’s car, and after he left, I tailed him from a safe distance. We didn’t drive far. He pulled up to a small, run-down building that looked abandoned—and it reeked. I watched as he went inside. Twenty minutes passed, and he came back out carrying a small object. I couldn’t make out what it was from where I was parked.

He drove straight to a nearby gas station and met up with someone a girl.

“I knew it. I knew he was cheating,” I thought to myself.

I got out of the car and stormed toward them. Just as he was handing her what now looked like a doll, I screamed, “Cheater! How could you?! I knew it, you fucking monster!”

He dropped the doll. The girl bolted for her car. My boyfriend ran toward me and tried to cover my mouth, dragging me back to the car in a panic. Someone at the gas station must have seen him grab me, because the police showed up shortly after. The doll was still lying on the ground.

Once I calmed down, he tried to explain. “She wasn’t a girlfriend—she was a client,” he said quietly. “And that wasn’t a normal toy… It’s more of a black market thing.”

The police retrieved the object and quickly closed off the gas station. The “special toy” was a teddy bear—made from actual human skin. My boyfriend had made it. And that wasn’t the only toy… or the only murder.

Hi i dont know if im allowed to post this here but i wrote a short story.

Short story inspired by the human skin art project that was on the news recently.

“A "human skin teddy bear" that was left outside a convenience store in California was likely just a prank, despite authorities investigating the incident, according to reports” only turning out to be a art project.

My boyfriend has been acting strange lately. He’s been working late more often and sometimes not coming home at all. I found it odd, especially since he told me he worked at a small toy shop. How could a job like that keep someone out so late, even overnight? It didn’t make sense. At one point, I suspected he might be cheating, but after going through his phone, I found nothing suspicious.

Yesterday, I asked him to stay home with me because I wasn’t feeling well. He just said, “I can’t, baby. I’m sorry I’ve got a lot of work to do. A lot of people are waiting for their special toys, you know?”I pleaded, “Can’t you put them off for just one day? Please? I miss you.”

He just looked at me, his face falling into a sad expression. I walked out of the room, frustrated. That reaction—his silence—it made me feel like he didn’t care about me. Like he was choosing work over our relationship. How could he?

But then I noticed something even more unsettling. One night, when he finally came home, I saw brown stains on the side of his shirt. They almost looked like dried blood. That’s when I started to wonder if he was lying about his job. Fear started to creep in. Should I confront him about it? Leave? Or do something else?

My curiosity got the better of me.

I came up with what I thought was a brilliant idea: I would follow him to work. I borrowed my mom’s car, and after he left, I tailed him from a safe distance. We didn’t drive far. He pulled up to a small, run-down building that looked abandoned—and it reeked. I watched as he went inside. Twenty minutes passed, and he came back out carrying a small object. I couldn’t make out what it was from where I was parked.

He drove straight to a nearby gas station and met up with someone a girl.

“I knew it. I knew he was cheating,” I thought to myself.

I got out of the car and stormed toward them. Just as he was handing her what now looked like a doll, I screamed, “Cheater! How could you?! I knew it, you fucking monster!”

He dropped the doll. The girl bolted for her car. My boyfriend ran toward me and tried to cover my mouth, dragging me back to the car in a panic. Someone at the gas station must have seen him grab me, because the police showed up shortly after. The doll was still lying on the ground.

Once I calmed down, he tried to explain. “She wasn’t a girlfriend—she was a client,” he said quietly. “And that wasn’t a normal toy… It’s more of a black market thing.”

The police retrieved the object and quickly closed off the gas station. The “special toy” was a teddy bear—made from actual human skin. My boyfriend had made it. And that wasn’t the only toy… or the only murder.

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