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fear4life.com

xx4z4i

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xx4z4i/fear4lifecom/

I don't know why I signed up for it. I guess I was just bored and wanted some excitement. Having a weak immune system sucked even before COVID, but it became so much worse with the pandemic. I felt like I couldn't go anywhere or I could die. So for the last two and a half years, I've worked from home, gotten groceries delivered, and done all my shopping online. Also, I'm single and have no kids. My dating life was barely alive before, and since the pandemic started, it has been in a coma. My only communication is through work, which is mostly just emails, as I'm a freelance writer. I've barely talked to anyone these past couple of years, so I think it was the loneliness and boredom that led me to click on the link. It started as advertisements on websites after I searched for the best horror movies to watch. Those are my favorite kinds of films, and I'm always looking for low-budget indie ones or foreign ones that I haven't seen. I didn't notice the ads at first since I tend to ignore them. But it eventually became the only ad I would see. The ads were pretty basic. They had "fear 4 life" written in white over a black bar. Then it had that fake glitch where the words would blur and move before fading to black. When the words were gone, I could see a faint skull hidden underneath all the black. I had been noticing it for about a week and finally clicked on it after an extra slow stretch of work. It took me to a website called [fear4life.com.](http://fear4life.com) There wasn't much to the website. On the bottom was a countdown until Halloween, along with a counter and map so you could see where the webpage visitors were from. I think I may have been the first visitor since it didn’t show any page views when I first went there. There was also text that stated, "Are you ready to fear 4 life?" I figured being scared would be better than being bored out of my mind, so why not (although I didn't expect anything to happen anyway). I clicked on the link, and it just went to a blank page at first. I was waiting for something else to happen, like a signup page or more information to appear, but there was nothing. After staring at the page for a while, I clicked in the middle, and then it went to another page that stated, "Congratulations! You have been approved to fear 4 the rest of your life. But don't worry, it will all end on October 31!" I wasn't sure if it was trying to say that being afraid would be over at the end of October or if my life would be over. Of course, it was just some silly website, and I didn't even enter any personal information. I wondered how it was supposed to work. Maybe the website put cookies on my computer, or I accepted notifications without realizing it. I put my computer on standby and got ready for bed. That night, I woke up at midnight and thought I heard a noise. I quietly climbed out of bed and walked over to my door. I stood still and listened. It sounded like someone was whispering something down the hall. I tried to hear what was being said, but it was just gibberish; I couldn't make out any words. I reached under my bed and grabbed the baseball bat I kept there for emergencies. Then I returned to my doorway. Looking down the hall, I saw a faint glow coming from the entrance to my office. The whispering continued and grew faster as I went down the hallway. When I came up to the door to the office, it suddenly got quiet. I leaned around the entrance to look in and didn't see anyone in the room. I noticed the green light above my monitor, signaling that the camera was running. The monitor was turned on, but the screen was blank. I walked over to the camera and leaned in to cover the lens. Suddenly, an old man appeared on the monitor and began the loud whispering I had heard earlier. It startled me, and I stumbled backward, falling onto the ground. The man's eyes darted toward me, and he screamed. There wasn't much lighting on him, but I could see the bone through the skin on his face, and his eyeballs looked like they were floating in the sockets. He had no eyelids or tissue around them. I got up and turned off the monitor, averting my eyes from the screen as best I could. Now with my heart beating fast and that horrible image of the man stuck in my head, it was going to be tough to fall back to sleep. Tomorrow, I would deal with what I was sure was a virus on my computer from that stupid website. I went back to my room and climbed into my bed. The clock showed 12:30am. I closed my eyes for a long time and didn't think I would fall back asleep. But when I looked at my clock again, it was 2:45am. I started to close my eyes again when I heard someone knocking. It sounded like it was coming from the front door. I picked up my bat again and went to check it out. I had curtains covering the sidelights windows on each side of the door, so I couldn't see what was out there. However, I could tell something was moving outside from the shadows the porch light created. I pulled back a tiny portion of the curtain and looked out. There was nothing in front of the door. The porch extended in front of my living room, so I went to look out those next. I lifted the shade on one of the windows and peeked out but didn't see anything here either. There was another knock at the door when I dropped the shade. I walked back over and didn't see movement through the curtain this time. Pulled it to the side, and the same man from the computer was staring back at me through the window. His bulging eyes and bony face were pressed up against the window. I shouted and let go of the curtain. The door handle started moving, and I quickly confirmed it was already locked. "Go away!" I shouted through the door. "I'm going to call the police!" He knocked on the door again, and then I heard him bump up against the window. I knew he'd be staring in again if I moved the curtain, so I waited for a few minutes. Finally, I heard him walk away. Before returning to my room, I ensured all the doors and windows were locked. Then, I got back in bed, but I couldn't fall asleep. I kept thinking about the stupid website. I didn't provide any information to that website, so I don't know how they got my address. Also, whoever did the makeup on the person at my door did a great job. It looked way too real, and I'm afraid I won't be able to get their face out of my mind anytime soon. I'm lying in bed now, trying to find the motivation to get up and check on my computer. I'll add an update if anything else happens. But I would stay away from that website if I were you. [Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xy2vrm/fear4lifecom_part_2/)

The Hand In The Window

xxh6re

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xxh6re/the_hand_in_the_window/

Throughout my 20’s, I worked remote for an insurance firm. I wasn’t a salesman or anything, it was all computer work. I was unattached and spent all my time driving around the country and staying in cool places, tourist spots, and even remote locations. I knew that if I didn’t travel while I could, I would regret it later in life. I drove an old van with all the back seats taken out. I put in a couch and some covered bins to keep my stuff organized. I would often sleep in hotels or rent a room for a couple of weeks so it wasn’t like I was always sleeping in the van. I was on my way to Michigan to hang out by the great lakes for a couple of weeks. I had actually taken a vacation day so I could have an extended weekend to settle in. It was about two in the morning and I needed to stop for some gas and a cup of coffee. I was pretty tired and was debating with myself on whether I should find somewhere to pull over and have some sleep. The gas station was pretty shady looking and the area I was in wasn’t well lit or populated, but I had gotten used to that kind of thing on the road. There were only two working pumps and a car was already at one of them, so I pulled up to the other one and went inside. There was nobody else in the store except the clerk, a middle aged man with an unkempt beard. I grabbed the largest sized cup and filled it to the top with stale coffee. As I approached the counter, I heard a muffled sound from the dark backroom, almost a quiet squeal. The clerk went to the back for a minute and came out muttering under his breath. I didn’t want to think too much into it until I remembered the car at the pump outside. Who did it belong to? I paid for my coffee and gas and went back out to the pump. As it’s pumping, I walk back towards the front of the store to smoke a cigarette. I notice a light tapping coming from somewhere, quiet enough to almost not notice. I walk around the side of the building, where the employee section would be but on the outside. There was a window that had that cloudy glass that you couldn’t see anything through unless it was right up next to it. That’s where the tapping was coming from. Suddenly a hand pressed up against the glass, barely visible through the cloudy pane. I hear muffled cry, I could’ve sworn it said, “help”. I ran back to my car as fast as I could, putting the gas nozzle back and starting my car. As I sped off down the road I thought about what might be happening and realized that I might be someone’s only hope. I called 911 and turned my car around. When I got back to the gas station, the attendant was moving the car into one of the parking spaces. From what the 911 operator told me I knew a state trooper would be arriving soon. I wanted to buy time so the attendant couldn’t hide whatever he was doing. I was pretty sure he had the driver of that car in the back room and god only knows what he was planning to do. The attendant was glaring at me with annoyance and suspicion. I told him I forgot to get something to eat, and he said he was closing down for the night. I said I would be really fast and ran inside as he tried to stop me. The man got really angry and told me I had to leave. I said “C’mon man, you’re the only stop for miles, I just need some chips”. “Fine!” he yelled, “just take it and go”. I started slowly perusing the snack section while he glared at me from the front of the aisle. After a minute he walked over and grabbed my arm, “times up pal”. Just then, I heard someone yell “help!” from the back. I shoved the man away and he ran to the counter and grabbed a gun. I had run close behind him, suspecting what he was doing, and tackled him to the floor. We wrestled for a minute and he got the best of me, slamming my head against the hard floor. As he scrambled to grab the gun a couple feet away, an officer busted through the door with his gun raised, just in time to save my life. Turns out, there were two young girls trapped in the backroom, they couldn’t have been any older than 17. Apparently, the attendant had attacked them when they came inside, gagged them, and tied them to a supply fixture in the back just before I had come in the first time. If I hadn’t gone back when I did, they might not have ever been seen again. And if that officer hadn’t arrived when he did, I would have a bullet in my head. I still traveled around after that, but I stayed away from seedy, middle of the night, stops.

We went camping in a very bad neighborhood.

xxqe0y

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xxqe0y/we_went_camping_in_a_very_bad_neighborhood/

“This is still dumb,” George said. He held the note-card up and squinted at it in the firelight. “I mean, it’s *real* dumb.” Our campfire had started to burn low in the gathering dark, and embers swirled up and away in a sudden gust of autumn wind. I shivered and paused the camera long enough to pick up another log. “It’s okay, George,” I said. “I mean, we just want the money, right? We don’t morally censure.” Carol started to smile a bit at that, but Kayden pressed his lips together and she stopped. George made a face and shifted his bulk in the camp chair. “Maybe.” He looked over at the clearing where the dead neighborhood crouched in the twilight : twelve ranch-style brick houses, all dark, all abandoned, some with collapsed roofs and rioting weeds boiling through empty windows. No graffiti, though. The kids in the greater Rochester area had been oddly restrained in that regard. When the trail through the woods had opened out into the forgotten cul-de-sac, George had driven his customized golf cart right down the street to the circle at the end. There were a couple of dilapidated iron street lamps positioned at strategic locations, none of which actually worked – the only light in the gloom was the glow of George’s headlights and the moon reflecting off of windows like empty eyes. One of the lamps towered over the end of the circle, and a long low car with the world’s most 1970s brown-on-gold paint job had crashed right into it – a long time ago, to judge from the weeds that poked up from the crumbling blacktop and twined around the hood ornament. George pulled the golf cart alongside and glared through the remains of the windshield. Kayden had grinned big from the shotgun seat and let out a whoop. “This. Is. *AWESOME!* George, buddy, I take back everything I said. You got us here in style.” He clapped George on the shoulder and let out a woo-hoo that echoed back from the empty houses and the woods beyond. “O-*kay*. Let’s do this up. Babe, you get the chairs set up and start the fire going. Get your brother to help you, he likes carrying things. Julie, grab that camera and follow me. She wants footage, we’ll give her – ” “Hold up,” said George, and climbed out of the driver’s seat. He walked over to the dead sedan, opened the passenger door, and fumbled around inside for a bit. For a moment he fell still, and all I could see were his legs around the side of the open door. The wind picked up and whistled through a dozen crumbling chimneys, and suddenly I didn’t want to be here anymore. Suddenly this all seemed very unwise, and George needed to get out of that car, and why wasn’t he moving, was something – George backed out of the car, straightened up, and slammed the door shut. He tucked a book-shaped package under his coat and got back in the driver’s seat. “Okay,” he said, and swung the golf cart around in a tight circle. “Hey!” yelled Kayden. “Where we going? I said we need to – ” “Camp,” said George, and kept the pedal floored until we were back at the far end of the street where the trail opened out. “We’ll set up here. If you still want to do this.” That was what we did. Now the fire was lit, and the dark was almost here. Kayden grabbed the log off my lap and tossed it into the flames, sending up a shower of sparks and getting a small scream out of Carol. He grinned and patted her on the shoulder. Far away and deep in the woods, something big rustled and fell silent. “It’s all right, babe. It’s like Julie says : we just close our eyes and think of that sweet, sweet cash. Okay, big guy, you’re on. We rolling, Jules?” We weren’t, but I got the camera going and pointed in George’s direction. He held the note card out with two fingers and wrinkled his nose at it. “The Priest of the Sun was – ” He sighed and turned the card around so I could see what our employer had written on it in her neat, feminine hand. “Exultant,” I supplied. “The Priest of the Sun was exultant,” George agreed. “‘If the blackness falls,’ he reasoned, ‘can yellow be far behind?’” He glared at the card a moment longer, then shoved it onto the back of the stack and handed it to me. “We get how much for this, again?” “Five. Hundred. *Each!*” Kayden tasted each word, savored it like vintage port. He gave Carol’s arm a playful punch. “That’s a whole lotta costumes, amirite?” All Kayden’s thought was currently bent on funding the first-ever theatrical production of something called *Nodens : A Comedy*, which was written by Kayden and starred Carol and which I was definitely going to be forced to sit through at the end of the semester. That finally got a smile out of Carol. “And a whole lot of sets,” she said. “Thanks for doing this, guys.” Kayden grinned wider. “How about it, George? Gonna donate your take to the Arts? Help us breathe faint life into these gossamer strands of fragile creation?” George reached down into his backpack, took out a beer, and cracked it open. “Nope.” Kayden’s smile faltered just a bit. “Well – okay. You did bring the wheels, so – okay. Your turn, Jules.” It was. I looked around first. Our little ring of light and warmth was very small against the night. Down the street, shadows leaped and flickered across the sagging brick walls of the dead houses. Six on each side and two at the end, like taxidermied soldiers standing guard over – “There were only twelve,” Carol said. I stood up slowly and looked harder. Six on each side and two at the end, the front rooms of the nearest ones caved in like toothless jaws. Leading up to each front door were cement steps covered in green astroturf that had gone faded and lumpy in the sun. How many had there been, when our golf cart burst through the trees and the headlights shone on the dark and the dust? I gulped. “We must have miscounted.” “Maybe,” Carol said. She bit her lip and turned toward the fire. “I’m not sure I like this place.” “*Babe.*” Kayden was indignant. “Of *course* you don’t like this place. I mean, you heard her say why they shut it down, right?” Carol nodded. “The soldiers that lived here, they went crazy – right? Fought each other. So the Army closed it all up.” She shivered. “I don’t think it’s that. It’s – ” The fire crackled and popped. “I don’t know. I just don’t like it.” Kayden stood up and started tossing logs in the fire – one, two, three, right after the other. They smoked and blazed, and shadows danced across our faces as the wind blew harder. It smelled like rain and crackling leaves. “I know,” he said. “I know, babe. That’s why we get paid the big bucks, though, right? We’re telling these jokes on the *very same street* where Major McClarty made his final stand. We tell ‘em outside Chuck E Cheese’s instead, it lacks a certain cachet, you know? People are gonna know that Major McClarty holed up beside *that* fence – ” “I dunno about that,” said George. Kayden rounded on him. “Yeah? Look, Georgie, I know you’re not exactly a lifetime patron of the opera or anything, but you gotta see that if you take this place, this *legend*, and sprinkle in the dramatic tension of feckless teens yukking it up, it makes for – ” George drank beer and sighed. “What legend is that? Major McClarty? Never heard of him. I – ” Kayden threw up his hands. “The lady *told* us, George. Jules, are you still rolling? Make sure you keep this part for George in case he forgets again. The lady explained this back at the inn when she offered us the job, right? About Major McClarty and how this place has been hidden out here for years behind the camp because the Army – ” “I know what she *said*.” George crumpled up his beer can and placed it lovingly into his backpack. “It didn’t fit. I’ve lived here all my life, and – ” Kayden nodded gravely. “That’s what I love about you, George. What we all love about you. You’re *constant*.” I gave him a look. “Keep it up,” I said, “and we’re going to have a problem.” Carol blinked at me. Kayden put up his palms. “Okay, okay. Geesh, I didn’t know you were hot for him or whatever. All I’m saying – ” George ignored us both. “All *I’m* saying is that I’ve never heard of it. Major McClarty? A bunch of soldiers blowing up their own street? They’d have told that in school five times every recess. We’d have ridden our bikes out here on weekends and had cap gun fights. But we didn’t. Know why?” Kayden just looked. “Cause it didn’t happen,” said George. “I went to the library after and asked around. The police station, too. Nobody knew about it. And they’d know.” Kayden rubbed his hair. “But the lady said – ” “I know she did,” said George. “I didn’t like her.” I’d brought my heaviest parka, and it was working less effectively than might have been hoped. I leaned closer to the fire. “Maybe I should tell my joke.” Carol gave me an encouraging smile. “Go for it, Julie. Let’s get this over with.” I set the camera where it could see my face and picked up the next card. The neat words stared up at me, all loops and whorls and occasional flourishes. I cleared my throat. “Beneath the earth,” I read, “there lurked a house with windows the color of spilled oil and bruises. A man once walked into it, singing: ‘Things go in and out of my head, things go in and out of my head…’” I paused. “Is that it?” Carol asked. “No,” I said. “Sorry. It says to pause there. Then it says : He was more right than he knew.” We all fell quiet a moment. The flames crackled and the shadows leaped. “Is *that* it?” George asked. “That’s it.” I shrugged. “Honestly, I’m starting to feel like five hundred dollars is – ” Kayden snorted. “Gesundheit,” I said. “No, no.” He giggled and waved his hands at me. “It’s just – that one wasn’t too bad, I guess. It’s kinda – ” He looked over at the dead street, at the tall dark trees behind it, at the crashed car rusting beneath the darkened streetlight. I noticed for the first time that the garage of the house across from it was open, as if someone had driven the car out of it and straight into the light pole. Kayden got up from his seat and did a little dance in front of the fire. “Things go in and outa my head, things go in and outa my head,” he sang. “Like, if the guy was in *there* – ” He waved a hand at the nearest house – “More right than he knew, amirite ladies?” He winked at Carol. She didn’t wink back. “You’re scaring me, Kayden,” she said. Kayden looked genuinely abashed. “Geez, I’m sorry, babe. I didn’t mean to – man, it’s getting late, I guess. Let’s *do* this. Your turn, honey.” He sat down and tried his best to appear inoffensive, with partial success. “How many of these do we have to do?” I asked him. “To get the five hundred.” Kayden swallowed. “Just one. One each. I know there’s more cards in the stack, but – that was so you could pick one you liked, maybe do a couple of takes with different ones to see what worked best, you know. But we’re just supposed to tell one each and discuss, and that’s the job. I got the feeling she was doing a bunch of these with different groups, and then she’d edit them all together for the final film.” “Two more, then.” I handed Carol the cards. “We can do this.” “We can do this,” Carol agreed. She looked over at George. “Why – you said you didn’t like her.” George nodded. “I didn’t. Back at the inn, you guys were arranging with her about everything, and I went outside to wrench on Mr. Armbruster’s truck. And then out she comes, all smiles, and I ask her what she’s going to call the movie. Bunch of kids telling jokes in front of a haunted street, what do you call that? She says she’s going to call it ‘Campfire Jokes’. And she smiles at me again.” He shook his head. “Didn’t like the smile. Didn’t like her.” We all sat quietly then, and George extracted another beer from his backpack. A coyote howled somewhere close, and I jumped. Kayden, who had been looking increasingly scandalized, finally spoke up. “She spends two grand per scene on this thing,” he said, “and she’s going to call it *‘Campfire Jokes’*?” “Nope.” George took a sip of his beer. “Wouldn’t think so.” Kayden looked at him, started to say something, and then stopped. George took out the book-shaped package he’d rescued from the dead sedan and started to leaf through it. “What’s that?” Kayden asked. “Owner’s manual,” said George. “Got it out of the glovebox.” He held it up to the light. On the front, a shinier copy of the dead sedan danced in the firelight, ready for action. *Chrysler Primadonna*, it said. *1974 Operator’s Guide.* “Ever heard of that make and model?” George asked. We all considered that. “Noooo,” I said at last, “but I’m not really much of a car buff, George. Have *you* ever heard of it?” “Nope,” said George. “Also, the front page says it’s published by the Chrysler-American Motors Corporation in Saurkash, Wisconsin. That’s wrong, too.” We all considered *that*. The wind rustled in the trees and bent the heads of the tall weeds in the derelict gardens. Kayden rubbed his chin. “What – um. What exactly are you suggesting, George?” George shrugged. “Not sure. But I do suggest we all tell our jokes and go home.” Kayden grinned. “You never spoke a truer word. Darling? Your line, I believe.” Carol straightened her back, and I could see her thinking of the praise which the theatre critic of the *North Woodsman* would lavish on the sumptuous sets and gracious costumes of *Nodens : A Comedy*. She drew a breath and looked at the next card. “For a thousand years he drove,” she read, “and for a thousand more it rained. The rain came down, and the world rolled on.” “Beer, anyone?” said George. “Sorry, that wasn’t the end,” said Carol. “It’s another one of those pausing ones. The end is ‘And it turned into a puddle.’” “*HA!*” roared Kayden. “Nuts,” said George. I started to giggle and turned it into a cough. “Okay,” I said, “I guess I *sort* of get that – it’s a bit dark, not really my – ” I giggled again. “Man, it is *late*. It’s just that the world – ” “The *WORLD* was the puddle!” Kayden shouted. “*BWAAAAA HA HA HA HA!* I *knew* there was something about you, Jules, I *knew* there was a reason Carol liked you, I – I – ” He collapsed back into his camp chair, gasping for breath. The moon was rising over the trees : a great orange harvest moon, large and close and pocked with craters. It lit the dead houses with a cheerless light the color of moldy cheese, threw Kayden’s laughing face into bilious relief. Carol shrank back into her seat, looked at Kayden with wide frightened eyes. I got up, wanting to comfort her, to shake Kayden out of it – The *world* was the *puddle*! You’d have expected a bit more after a thousand years of driving, right? Only goes to show! I was on my knees beside the fire, laughing, whooping, pounding my fists in the dirt. Carol’s lips were trembling; if I could just explain it to her, make her see there was nothing to be scared of, that one just happened to hit Kayden and I just right, it was only a bit of fun, really – George’s arms were around me, picking me up off the ground, pressing a beer into my hand. “Drink this,” he said. “You’re okay. You’re okay, Julie. It’s time to go.” He guided me over to the golf cart, put me in the shotgun seat, went back for his sister. Carol was weeping openly now; George sat her down next to me and I hugged her. Kayden had found the cards and was shuffling through them, still laughing. The moon wheeled overhead, and as it rose over the trees I could see that there were fifteen houses now : six on each side and three at the end. George had swept the camp chairs and the backpack into his arms and was lugging them over to the golf cart; he was too busy to notice Kayden stopping at one particular card and beaming at it with tears in his eyes. “Kayden!” I screamed. “No! No more jokes!” He looked at me but didn’t see me. “If I don’t,” he said, “it’s all for nothing.” “It doesn’t matter,” I told him. “We’ll get the money some other way. I’ll help. Mr. Armbruster always needs more hours down at the inn; you could – ” Kayden was shaking his head. “You’re not tracking me, Jules. I *understood* all of that. I’ve got to – that *can’t* be for nothing. It’s too awful. That man in the house…” He trailed off, clenched a fist. “She *owes* me this, Jules. And I’m gonna collect. For all of us.” “Time to go, buddy,” said George. He grabbed Kayden by the arm. *“NO!”* shrieked Kayden. He shoved George into the fire ring and ran for the houses. Carol and I were both screaming, I think. We piled out of the golf cart and ran for George, but he was already out of the ring and rolling around on the ground. We helped him up. “I’m fine,” he grunted. “That crazy idiot – get in the cart!” We did. I grabbed the camera on the way, and George floored the pedal the second our butts hit the seat. The cart rocketed forward, silent and powerful, with Kayden a dark distant figure in the halogen beams. He made it to the circle and climbed up onto the roof of the dead sedan. We were racing past the houses now; empty doors gaped at us like missing teeth. Kayden pounded his chest and threw out an arm. He spoke – I heard him speak – but the wind took the words and whipped them away. He was laughing, crying, a one-man sock-and-buskin atop the dead Chrysler Primadonna as the cart bumped and jounced toward him and I held onto Carol for dear life. He finished his joke – or at least he stopped speaking – and turned away from us, toward the fifteenth house that crouched at the end of the cul-de-sac. The light above its front door went on. It was a dark, greasy light, yellow-orange like the moon, that did not warm and did not chase the shadows away. The dark seemed to welcome it, to reach toward it with eager tendrils, and Kayden leaped down from his perch on the roof and walked up the astroturf steps. Joke cards fell from his limp fingers and fluttered away in the breeze. George slammed on the brake. The cart screeched to a stop. Fat raindrops began to pelt the roof : first one, then many. Leaves rattled through the empty yards and tumbled across the street. Kayden stood in front of the door now, bathed in that sickly glow, and as we watched the front door swung open. Inside was a darkness so vast and deep that it was scarcely dark at all. True, the open doorway was a perfect void, flat and dead : but behind it, what clutter! There stood the bone-white corpses of the great machines, yellowed to perfection such that to see and to touch them was to yellow as well; there, the bed with its sheet of dust, pulsing grey-orange in its terrible hunger. And beyond it all – just around the corner – a short, dark shape, bruised in countless squirming colors – Kayden stepped across the threshold, his arms limp at his sides. The door snapped shut in perfect silence. And the light on the porch went out. George shifted the cart into reverse. We backed away from that place, and only when we had passed out of the dead street and back into the trail beneath the trees did he stop long enough to turn us around. He drove us home, through the dark and the rain, while Carol screamed Kayden’s name and I held her and cried. ​ There’s not much more to tell. George drove us straight to the police station and told them Kayden had gone missing during our camping trip. They sent out a search party, and when the search party didn’t find anything they sent out a helicopter. George and I went along to show them where we’d been. There were no houses in the woods, there or anywhere else. Carol got better. George and I spent a lot of time with her that fall and winter, to help her forget and to show her we cared. She’s back at school now and doing all right. One blustery evening in February, George and I had just finished up a delightful dinner date at the finest steakhouse in Manchester. He’d gone to get the car, and I was waiting outside under the awning watching the snow. “Pardon me, miss,” a contralto voice said, and I turned to find myself tete-a-tete with a dark-haired adventuress type in stylish fur boots. “Oh, sorry,” I said, and moved aside to let her past. She laughed a musical laugh. “*I’m* sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean ‘Pardon me, miss’, I meant ‘Pardon me, miss’. I’m not going in there; can’t stand the place. But I do have something that’s yours.” She pushed an envelope into my hand. “Two thousand dollars. And well-earned. The ending was incredible.” I sputtered a bit. “I – you – who – I never sent you – ” She waved it away. “No, no, I get that. But at this point I think we both know I never wanted it anyway.” Her cheeks dimpled as she smiled. “’Campfire Jokes’, amirite?” The steakhouse door swung open and a very grim-looking maitre’d poked his head out. “Madam? Would you care to come back inside while you wait? There is a bitter wind blowing this evening; I should hate for you to be caught out in it.” He looked me straight in the eye as he spoke. The adventuress turned the dimples on him. “All right, Reginald, I’m leaving. No need to get all in a twist about it; she’s quite safe.” She patted me on the shoulder. “That George really is a cutie; I’m happy for you. And seriously, enjoy the money. Maybe stay out of the woods for awhile, though. Take your next vacation at a spa, or something. Luck!” She turned and was gone into the snow. George pulled up in his pickup then, and when we were warm and on the way home I told him what had happened. I didn’t know he knew all of those words. Carol’s back at school, remember? That includes her theatre class. Once she was through the worst of it, she decided that Kayden’s great vision deserved to live. I’m not sure I totally agree, but George and I still put a bit of our money into the pot to make sure that *Nodens : A Comedy* could live its best life. We’re in our seats now, waiting for the curtain to go up. Wish us lots and lots of luck.

Woods at the end of a tunnel

xxq6z5

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xxq6z5/woods_at_the_end_of_a_tunnel/

I have been a police investigator for a good five decades of service. A lot of weird cases has come and go throughout my service, but one case has come to haunt me, about the woods at the end of the tunnel. You see, the town where I work and live is very big, but there is a massive woodland area just an hours’ worth of drive from here. It connects both my town to our neighbor town. Along the straight concrete road covered with trees from town to town is one left turn somewhere in the middle that only leads to one place, a long dark tunnel. About an hour after turning left is where it lies, the tunnel through the backwoods. It was blockaded, no one is legally allowed to enter as the area has been restricted for the public and only officers like me were allowed for investigations. The tunnel itself is another ten-minute straight drive within the darkness, you can only see the light at the end of it so traveling at daytime is a necessity, then you'll reach a dirt road towards the woods that lies behind it. After exiting the tunnel and following the dirt road for ten minutes, there is an abandoned cabin that looked like a tornado just decimated it with roofs gone and windows are broken. Whatever was going on within that woods are a big mystery. I saw internet forums claim that it was haunted due to missing cases reported. They say that the missing people only lasted three days, they say the woods calls people and you shouldn't answer or you'll die first, and all those stories. of course, I didn't believe these ghost stories. Out of my five years of service, three groups have been reported to disappear in that woods. This has led me to investigate the place three times already. But out of the three groups I've investigated, there weren't any evidence that they all went to camp in the cabin, except for one piece of paper. While investigating the third group that went missing three years ago, we found something new in the cabin compared to the last time we were there, a paper at one of the bedrooms that says... ***"Liars don't get to keep their head"*** It was written with blood in a torn piece of paper. That didn't help anything at all, no bodies, no other clues. I figure that the woods will always be a mystery for me, or so I thought. Another group has been reported missing just last week, their friends says that they have ventured in the tunnel woods, another curious internet group. A fourth case. Investigations has begun in that place yet again after three years of silence, but this time though without me. You know, I'm planning to retire today after five decades of service, right in my birthday so It'll feel more special and emotional. "Thank you and happy birthday sir Gerald" says the cake. A party was held that day, my coworkers gave me a big envelope with supposed new evidence for the third case three years ago, it apparently was discovered from the investigation recently conducted for the new fourth case. I couldn't care less honestly since I'm officially retired, I decided that I won’t open it now and spare it for home. But that's not the only evidence that I received that night. I got a present when I went back to my house, a package delivered in my front door wrapped in a dusty paper with a note "to officer Swindon". I grabbed it and closed the doors of my house, sit down in my room and opened the present... A notebook that has the first page titled "Marcus's woodlands diary". Marcus is a familiar name from one of the people that went missing three years ago. I remember seeing his face and talking to his relatives. I got a little scared and curious so I grabbed the envelope and the notebook that I both received thinking which one to open first, both are related to the tunnel woods after that's been a mystery for as far as I can tell. I realized that the pages within the notebook looks similar to the note that we found, the one evidence that just gave me more questions. I decided to open the mysterious notebook first. Only thirteen pages of the notebook was used and the rest were empty. The first 3 pages of the notebook contains rumors about the tunnel that Marcus found out by researching. He also wrote instructions and preparations about the journey and the friends he's bringing with him. The next nine pages are written like a diary with three entries. Curious, I start reading the first entry.... ======================== *1ST ENTRY* Dear notebook, this is the beginning of my new paranormal journey towards the tunnel woods, after months of research, preparation, and being bewildered, we're actually going to go to it for real!! I've met with my internet friends and there were five of us, I'm excited and thrilled because this time; were actually required to investigate quietly or we'll all go to jail. As usual I'm with my mates, Barbara and her boyfriend Jake. With us is the new couple Daryl and Cherry from the ghost hunting forums. Daryl is a pretty tough guy according to Cherry, it makes sense considering he was very tall, like 6'4 and looks like he can push the car by himself with ease. Apparently, he had already investigated multiple abandoned places but he can also be a total dick sometimes. Cherry seems like a sweet person though based on how she talks to me. My friends Barbara and Jake are both paranormal thrill seekers, they have made stories about a couple of places already in their website and had influenced me to come to their recent adventures. This is the first time it was nature though instead of abandoned facilities, I recommended it here. We entered the tunnel at 5am to avoid the cops, we removed the barricade temporarily so that the car can pass through and then returned them to avoid suspicion. Traversing the tunnel is spine chilling, long minutes of straight line that feels like jumping from one world towards another, Jake was careful and is keeping a medium speed so we won’t crash if there is a sudden bump that is hidden under the carpets of the darkness. Finally, we've reached our destination, the tunnel woods. Unfortunately, the car didn't seem to be able to proceed to the sudden change to dirt road so we have to leave it behind and carry our stuff. Daryl had to carry the most so he was at the back while we were led to the cabin by Jake, this is important because tonight; I'm sleeping with him and Cherry because of this small shenanigan. While walking, he suddenly gave a scared loud scream, he says that *something* tapped him in the shoulders three times and he looked back and saw nothing. Cherry rolled her eyes "here you go again, not even on the cabin yet and you’re being a dick already" "I mean it! I really do! Something just tapped me in the shoulders and I saw there was nothing!". We ignored him and continued our journey towards the cabin with Daryl now in the middle and me at the back. With that, we arrived at the cabin. The cabin is pretty and neat, not abandoned like people says it was. It was definitely habitable with roofs, doors, and windows intact. Every door can even be locked from the inside. There's even an axe and a generator outside to give some electricity at the cabin; good thing we have tons of gasoline so we powered it up for some lights. Daryl and Cherry went outside to scope the area while Barbara and Jake cooked us meal and prepare the place. There are three bed rooms, a kitchen, and a living room all in one floor. I decided to take the middle room with no window to give the couples some privacy. Time passes and it's about 4pm already. After a long travel and some preparations, we finally got to eat together and share a little meal by the fireplace. Daryl and Cherry found out that there are no receptions as expected, they also saw a tall dead tree not too far which we presumed as the "tree of death" as the internet groups claimed, we ate and share rumors about the supposedly "fruit of death" that spawns within the tree. It's 7pm, we decided to investigate the tree together. We went to check the tree while it's dark and spooky, it was very tall but no leaves, it was creepy but I'm more creeped out by the well beside the tree that was shut closed by a heavy rock. It wasn't mentioned in the websites at all. We returned to the cabin after the small inspection and then decided to go to bed. Daryl came by to my room and talked to me privately, he looks scared and very paranoid. "I know Cherry warned you about me playing around at times like these but you've got to believe me on this one" "Is it about the shoulder tapping thing earlier?" I asked. "Yes! I was scared shitless bro. My body straightened and my eyes looked as far as it can to the left and then to the right but my head didn't want to turn, but I was so terrified man so I did turn and saw nothing. Not only that, earlier when I was scouting the place, I saw this creepy note placed in the well" He took out a note out of his pocket and showed it to me. The text was written in blood... ***"Let’s play a game, don’t sleep tonight"*** He told me that he didn't want to share it to everybody because he didn't want it to look like a joke that he had in store for all of us. I sighed and told him that I'll sleep with them so he won't be too bothered by things. The note feels like a try hard push in attempt to scare me. But I told him he was being too paranoid and should take it easy. With that we slept. Today has been quite tiring and Daryl's weird behavior is getting on my head. I'm going to put the diary back into my room now and sleep with them. ​ *2ND ENTRY* I couldn't have predicted that things will go out the way it did today. I don't want to die here. Two of us died a horrible death. We need to get out of here, we want to get out of here but we can't. Sitting here in the car; I have the feeling that I should continue writing on my diary in order for me to pass on what happened and somehow tell the story on what went on in here. It started when I woke up late in the cabin, I stood up and see Barbara cooking. She told me that it was noon already and that Daryl has gone missing. Cherry and Jake has been looking for him for about four hours already and they haven't return yet. I was so confused and concerned considering that Daryl was acting weird yesterday and deep down in my heart, I believed his concerns too. Barbara told me that we should wait for them to come back and Daryl is probably with them already. But there was only two of them when they returned. They said that they have looked all over they can but they couldn't find him. They also look back in the car and Daryl wasn't there as well. I asked about looking at the tunnel and beyond it jokingly thinking that Daryl might have run back to the town through the tunnel on foot but I was responded by a serious answer. Jake says that Daryl had the keys and should have just used the car instead if he desired to cross. We kept searching outside until it was dark, rain is about to pour as thunderclaps lit the dark and cloudy night sky. I'm starting to get scared because of the creepy information about the weird stuff that happened to him yesterday. It was about to rain when and we decided to go back. On our way we noticed something weird. The cabin is completely open. All the windows and doors were open. We immediately run inside anticipating Daryl but instead we saw a note at the table... ***"You didn't find him in time"*** It was written in blood and it looks just like the note Daryl showed me. Along with it is a single chopped off foot, it was Daryl's. We panicked and closed the cabin immediately while Jake grabs the axe, and that's when we hear a loud scream from afar, Daryl's scream. It was coming from the dead tree so we ran towards him as quickly as we can. His scream becomes louder and louder as we ran closer with fear in our hearts. When we got there, I shine my flashlight towards the screaming, above the tree. We all look up and saw it, the fruit of death, it was Daryl. His neck was hung up in a barb wire noose and he was dying out of strangulation. Gasping for air, both his eyeballs has been pressed deeper in his face that made it looked like he was crying blood as he screams. All of his bones are twisted the wrong way, even all of his fingers. His twisted and unresponsive arms and legs dangled like jelly as he wriggles in desperation, slowly suffocating. All he can do is scream. Thunderclaps roared at the sky as Jake tries to find a way to get him out of there but the tree is too tall and he was so high up. All I can do is shine the flashlight at him and watch in horror. The light rain falls and suddenly Daryl drew his final scream, he was in so much pain and desperate. But he stopped and died. Terrified, we ran all the way back to the house and locked all doors. The note isn't there anymore, instead a new note was presented before us. ***"Let's play a game, don't let us catch you in the dark"*** Again written in blood. We were on edge. We hide in my bedroom all horrified. I ran up to the bed and sat against the wall, scared. Cherry insisted that I hugged her as she leans her back into my body and we both focus our attention on the door at my room. I wrapped my arms around her knowing how horrified she must've felt. Jake locked the room door and stood next to it holding an axe with Barbara behind him. We were all alert when suddenly the power went out. It was pitch black. We were all silent. All we can hear is the rain falling outside the cabin. The silence was broken when we hear the cabin door outside the room slowly opens. Jake is probably ready to strike with the axe at that point if he hears the room door open. Then we suddenly hear a strong snap coming from inside the room, it sounded like wood being broken in half. The lights got back after the sound and I was greeted with something I would never forget. Cherry's face is looking straight back at me, her head was completely twisted against her body. Her eye balls were pushed all the way at the back of her head, blood starts to drip from her eye sockets, all I could think of was to scream. Jake immediately took Cherry’s body weighting in my body as I become paralyzed from fear and shock. I hear Jake say "It's not safe here, follow me" I grabbed my diary and ran outside, looking at Jake as he led us back to the car. We went inside the car that was parked at the side of the tunnel. We lock every door and rolled up the windows, I can barely see what's outside as the rain drops and the black tint of the window covers my vision. I grabbed a pen from the car and write, it is all I could think off as we wait for daylight. I don't want to die. I hope someone finds this notebook. I shouldn't have recommended this place. All of this horror is happening because I wanted to know what happened to my Dana. I thought maybe she's just missing and is still here, now I know she was dead for sure. I just hope she didn't suffer the way Daryl did. I should've just trusted the police. I'm sorry Daryl, I'm sorry Cherry. ​ *LAST ENTRY* I'm writing this while hiding in my cabin room, this is probably the last time I’ll write on this notebook for I don’t want to care about recording anymore. Cherry's rotting corpse reminds me of the horrible things that could happen to me anytime by now. It is so quiet here that I could hear my pen write against the paper. I don't want to die here, if you read this note; get out of here immediately. I woke up earlier to find out that Jake has been looking for Barbara who went missing while we slept inside the car. He told me that he read my notebook while I'm asleep and learned that I lied about coming here out of simple curiosity, that I have a more personal reason. I swear he wanted to hit me with the wooden end of the axe, he probably blames me for all the things that we’ve gone through here. But if I do tell them the truth beforehand, I know that they would just call me off and tell me that the police already did their best; so with that I had to drag them all. We've been looking for Barbara and it's getting dark, rain is about to pour once more it seems. I didn't tell him that I found a note in the car written in blood and it tells me that Barbara is already dead swimming in that closed well. He must've rushed out of the car, as soon as he realized that Barbara isn't there for him to miss this note. I didn't want him to dive in that well out of false hope on saving her, but I just realized now that maybe I should have, considering that it is why we were even here in the first place. My false hope on saving my loved one. Searching along the muddied woods slowed me down, I lost him in the dark while we were looking, he was fast and didn't seem to care about me anymore. Luckily, I saw the cabin lights from here. I figure that I could go back to the car and follow the dirt road from the cabin. I almost miss it in the corner of my eyes but I noticed it, while looking at the cabin from afar; I saw *something* at the top of the trees. It was something tall with long hair, its lower body seems to be ripped off and missing. It uses its hands to crawl quick like a spider, vanishing behind the leaves from tree to tree. It was quick and it disappear towards the deep woods. I spaced out for about a minute, my brain froze and cold winds breezed along my skin, I didn't want to move out of fear. I slowly snuck my way towards the cabin while keeping a close look at the direction *it* banished. I locked everything and hid here. No way I'd walk alone towards the car after what I just saw. I wonder if that thing dragged Daryl away towards the window while we slept. And now here I am writing in my notebook with my friends corpse. I feel like I don’t have anything to write anymore. I don’t know what to do now that I’ve finished telling my tale. Wait, I just hear the door from the other room open... **The rest of the page is torn...** ======================== ​ I was, stunned… I don't know what to make in all of these. Specially knowing that this is legitimate. The evidence that we got three years ago, it was ripped from this very same page that I’ve just read. My shaking hands slowly placed the notebook down the table, I decided to grab the envelope next. This was from the recent investigation conducted this week, a group of five girls missing. I lifted a big photo out of the envelope, what they have found has raised the fear that I feel even further. It was a picture of a mans severed head, it looks like it was ripped from the body, it was spiked on top of a pine tree. The head was either preserved or recently ripped considering it looks fresh. But most importantly, it looked like it was Marcus. It wasn't there the last time I investigated. I dropped the picture into the desk and spaced out for a minute, my brain froze and cold winds breezed along my skin. I didn't even remember seeing a dead tree when I investigated the tunnel woods. I was piecing things together; my mind is full. I was so silent. I'm still terrified from all the horror. I feel like I shouldn't have read this notebook and should've committed to the retired life. I feel like I'm not meant to read this. Frozen in place, *something* tapped the back of my shoulder three times from behind. My body straightened and my eyes looked as far as it can to the left and then to the right but my head didn't want to turn. I didn't believe in these ghost stories, so why be scared. I wanted to turn around… But my eyes slowly gazed at the picture of Marcus's severed head spiked on top of a tree. "I am a police officer" I told myself and made up my mind to look. I turn around head first and then stood up with all of my body facing the back as quickly as I can. There was nothing, nothing but a single piece of note on the floor. Something is written in it... with blood... ***"Let’s play a game, do not let us catch you sleeping in the dark tonight"***

We've been locked in our classroom for days, and our teacher is starting to act very strange...

xw9ror

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xw9ror/weve_been_locked_in_our_classroom_for_days_and/

***Day One.*** We had just opened our textbooks to chapter eight when the alarms blared overhead. A red strobing light spun by the door as metal slats slid down the wall to seal us in. The others started to stir and panic at their desks. “Now, now. Class, I’m sure everything is fine. Probably just a drill.” Mr. Jonas held up his hands in an attempt to soothe the crowd. Just as he was about to open his mouth, Evie came over the intercom. “Level 3 Contagion located in the south quadrant of campus. Lockdown protocol is now in effect. Isolation protocol is now in effect.” “Oh no…” The teacher suddenly looked pale and a little panicked himself. \--- ***Day Three.*** I slid my rook across the tiled chessboard to overtake Patricia’s bishop. She stuck out her tongue in defiance as I removed it from the board. I smirked and then shoved another saltine cracker in my mouth. Mr. Jonas said we shouldn’t be in here much longer. It was probably just taking the CDC a while to quarantine and eradicate the contagion. He said it must be a pretty nasty virus if they are keeping us locked in our classrooms. We have enough snacks for another day or so. It’s been difficult to ration properly when all you have are crackers, candy, and canned spray cheese. Overall, though, we were keeping our hopes up which was all we could really do. Staying positive, for now. \--- ***Day Five.*** The room was starting to smell foul. We’d designated some buckets in the corner as the bathrooms and they were about half full and beyond putrid. We ran out of food last night. My stomach rumbled with hunger, but I did my best to ignore it. I didn’t feel like playing chess or reading anymore, instead I just napped at my desk as much as possible to pass the time. I was hoping at any moment I’d be awoken to the doors opening so that I could go home. I missed my parents. Mr. Jonas was losing his composure too. He’d been pretty put together up to this point and ensuring we were all calm. But his eyes looked a little wild now, and he kept pacing the room talking to himself. A few times I heard him cursing under his breath and then reciting prayers. I really hope we get out of here soon. \--- ***Day Eight.*** *Bang…bang…bang* A pounding sound coming from the other side of the classroom pulled me from my dreams. *Bang…bang…bang* I stayed still to appear asleep but cracked my eyes just enough to watch as the Biology teacher smashed a chair against the steel door over and over again. *Bang…bang…bang* He was really losing it. “Let us out of here!” Mr. Jonas screamed as he tossed the chair to the side. “I cannot do that sir. A Level 3 Contagion has been detected. I have sealed off the affected area, but you must stay isolated for your safety.” The robotic voice hummed over the speakers. He screeched profanities at the camera in the corner of the ceiling. Some of the other boys were becoming aggressive as well. There had been some fights the last couple of mornings. Also, some hands going where they shouldn’t be going, back behind the fake plants and lab equipment. It seemed as if we were slowly devolving. Becoming an enclosure of chimpanzees, like one you’d see at the zoo but only hungrier. We needed out, or something terrible was going to happen. \--- ***Day Ten.*** We’d been on a diet of tap water for the past five days. I felt dizzy every time I stood from my desk. The room would spin and I’d almost black out. I kept my footing by sheer force of willpower. I had this irrational fear that if I passed out, I’d be eaten by my classmates, like a pack of hyenas on a gazelle. Feasting on my intestines as they spilled across the tiled floor. It sounded crazy if I said it out loud, but when I looked around the room and saw all the hungry faces, I didn’t think the idea was too farfetched after all. Mr. Jonas hasn’t said a word in over twelve hours. He’s just been sitting at his desk, carving something into the surface of it with an exacto knife. For the first time today, I had the thought that maybe we weren’t going to make it out of this. Maybe we were all going to die in this classroom. I hung my head and cried. \--- ***Day Thirteen.*** “Mr. Jonas! Mr. Jonas stop!” Micah cried. “Don’t you see? We have to do this, we need food. It’s survival 101. When the pack is suffering and food is scarce, they turn on their weakest member. It’s simple biology. Survival of the fittest.” Mr. Jonas had his hands around Trevor’s neck, squeezing so hard that the boy’s eyes were about to pop from his skull. Trevor struggled beneath him, but he was frail and terribly small for his age. Micah grabbed a large beaker from the table and lifted it high over his head. “Mr. Jonas stop now! Don’t make me do this!” But the teacher was long gone, his eyes gleamed with delight as drool dripped down his chin from salivating at the thought of a meal. I jumped to my feet as Micah brought the beaker down as hard as he could onto Mr. Jonas’ head. It shattered to pieces on impact, knocking the teacher out cold. I helped Micah push him off Trevor. The poor kid was wheezing and gasping for air as tears streamed down his face. “You’re alright, it’s okay, you’re alright.” Micah patted the kid on the back, trying to calm him as he wailed. Suddenly there was a scream like a war cry and Mr. Jonas was air born. He leaped across a desk and plowed into Micah. They both went sprawling across the tile. Micah resisted him but Mr. Jonas ended up on top and began dropping his elbows viciously on Micah’s face causing blood to spew from his nose and mouth. Static filled my mind, I didn’t think, I only reacted. I reached down and picked up a hunk of glass from the broken beaker, grabbed Mr. Jonas shaggy hair and pulled it back to extend his neck. I pulled the glass through the meat of his throat as hard as I could. I’d never seen so much blood before. It poured in a waterfall across Micah’s chest. Mr. Jonas fell to the side once more, this time never to get up again. I stared at my blood-soaked hands. I felt nothing. No remorse, no fear. Only static. Suddenly the metal slats retracted into the ceiling and the door swung open. “*Lockdown protocol has been lifted. Please continue with your regular schedules. Lockdown protocol has been lifted.”* Her cheery robotic voice seemed so distant and out of place now. The other students gathered around me, just staring at the pool of blood. I think it was the hunger talking, but a part of me wanted to know what it tasted like. I think the others did too. Thankfully, before that could happen a man in a suit strolled into the classroom. “Hello, class.” His perfect teeth gleamed under the LEDs. Before we could say anything a team of adults in overalls poured into the room. Some began taking pictures of everything. Others started cleaning up Mr. Jonas. One man with gray hair dropped a large box on the teacher’s desk and opened it. He then started throwing fresh fruit and granola bars to each of the students. We devoured everything he gave us. I started to feel more like myself after two bananas and four granola bars. They tasted like heaven, a sweet salvation. The first man with the nice teeth in the expensive suit waited until we were all done before he addressed us again. “I know it’s been a long thirteen days guys, I appreciate you all hanging in there. I’ve alerted each of your parents that you’ve been cleared to go home.” The classroom erupted in cheers as we all hugged each other. Even Micah, covered in gore, danced around excitedly. “You’ll all be able to go home soon but first I just need to do a little debrief with each of you before you go. I’m going to set up in the counselor’s office and Mr. Moses here is going to bring you down one by one to give your account on what happened here during isolation.” We all nodded our heads in agreement, anything to get out of here. Mr. Moses, the man with the grey hair and the snacks, took us down one by one and we spilled our guts to the man with the nice teeth. When I gave my story on what it was like I still felt numb, even when describing how I’d killed Mr. Jonas, I just felt… nothing. It wasn’t until I’d gotten home that evening that I’d broken down and wept. Once I was in my mother’s arms I cried and cried until I couldn’t anymore. Then I ate more food than I ever had. I shoveled pasta down my throat until I thought my stomach would burst. It was a good feeling. To be full. To be human again. \--- Years later while I was at University a whistleblower had leaked that what we’d endured at the school was a government coverup for a top-secret experiment. There had been no virus, no contagion. It began as an experiment to test the artificial intelligence system they had at the school. But then it morphed into a social experiment to see how long we would last before someone was murdered or severely harmed. To test the boundaries of civility and moral character under immense pressure. Just in case there was a real issue with the code in the A.I. and this scenario became a reality elsewhere. When I’d killed Mr. Jonas, it had ended the experiment. The news had made me sick to my stomach, I was angry and disgusted for weeks. I was okay with it now though. You see, Trevor may have been small, the weakest member of the pride perhaps, but he was also a genius. With his hacking expertise we were able to locate Mr. Nice Teeth and Mr. Moses. It’s been six days so far and every time they scream and hit the door with a chair, I just can’t help but smile. It’s a little experiment a few of us are conducting. It’ll end when someone is murdered or severely injured. Maybe…

Nayantara

xwzvsm

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xwzvsm/nayantara/

I hated our ancestral house. It was an Assam-type house that had stood the trials of time. My family was attached to the sentimental value of the home and refused to sell it, but now it lay in disarray due to the lack of care. After my koka and aaita (Grandparents) died, the condition of the house deteriorated. I had asked my parents to sell it, but they refused. Instead, they pestered me to move there and fix the house and to my utter regret, I gave in to their incessant requests. It has been two days since I moved to our ancestral house. The past two days have not been pleasant. On top of my work, I have had to find extra time to fix the decrepit house but the only thing that has been bothering me was the Nayantara (graveyard plant) plant near the bedroom window. It had been almost twenty years since I last saw it. The plant should have been dead but there it was, near the bedroom window, still bearing pink flowers, a source of beauty in a yard brimming with weeds. The Nayantara plant had unearthed repressed memories and I had buried them for a reason. These memories had haunted me for much of my childhood and now I refuse to suppress them further, I must confront them. Eighteen years ago, I used to stay in this house. It was a joint family comprising my parents and me, my grandparents, and my mother’s younger brother. My mama (mother’s younger brother) had a very passionate affair with a woman from another religion. He was smitten by her and went against the family’s wishes and married her. In a conservative society in the 80s, in Assam India, it created quite a ruckus, but my mama stood up for her, and eventually, the family accepted the marriage. The lady he married, my maami, eventually converted to our religion and changed her name to Runima. My mama and Runima maami had a relationship brimming with love and respect. As a child, I adored them and they in turn adored me. Runima maami was quite fond of me and treated me as her daughter. She was the light of our family, but she was stricken with grief as she could not conceive. My mother told me that Runima maami was obsessed with me. She would repeatedly tell me, “I will take you. You are like my baby. I will take you”. She used to say these words with such affection that they left an impression. Within two years of their marriage, Runima maami suffered from sudden health complications and passed away. The bright candle of my mama’s life was snuffed, and he was stricken with the kind of grief that makes me shudder to reminisce. A pall of gloom had descended on our family; I was still a child unable to process the severity of the grief and went about my day as usual. It was on the tenth day of the rituals and there was a small feast held in the memory of Runima maami. The entire family sat outside, huddled together in the dim glow of two lanterns, and I went to Runima maami’s room to sleep. I still cannot fathom why I had gone to that room to sleep but I did. Soon, I heard a knock. A faint tap. I paid no heed and kept trying to sleep. The taps became a little louder, so I went to investigate. I removed the curtain from the window to see if there was someone but there was nothing. I returned to the bed only to be startled by three loud taps. The taps almost seemed friendly, perhaps like a calling, and in an impulsive decision, I decided to open the window. A wave of cold breeze engulfed me as soon as I opened the window but to my surprise, everything was calm outside. It was an unsettling eerie calm, the leaves of the trees did not move, and neither the chirping crickets made a sound. It was dark and not even the fireflies were visible tonight. I bought my tiny torch and pointed it outside and what I saw still fills me with dread. Every tree stood still, and their stillness seemed unnatural, almost as if they were forced to be still. Only one plant kept oscillating back and forth, the movements seemed unnatural, as if someone was physically moving it, and that plant was the Nayantara plant that Runima maami had planted when she first set foot in the house. I felt a chilling cold on my cheeks, the cold felt unnatural, it felt like fingers caressing my cheeks and I was transfixed. I do not remember how long I stood there but I remember my mother pulling me away from the window, shutting it, and then scolding me. As the window was being shut, I saw from the corner of my eye that the Nayantara plant now shivering violently. My mother gave me an earful that night and took me to another room and put me to bed. Soon, I forgot about that incident. Then something else happened after three days. My mama was very close to my mother, and she was very affectionate with him. My mama was broken by his beloved wife’s death and that night, he had gone to sleep as usual on their bed. That night, my mother went to fetch some water to drink and crossed my mama’s room. A chill had descended that night which was unusual as winters still had announced its baleful presence in Assam. As she passed his room, my mama woke up suddenly, his eyes had turned a shade of crimson red and resonated with a cold fury, and he charged at my mother. My mom could not discern what was happening and instinctively ran to the kitchen, and my mama followed her growling and screaming, like a feral dog. He cornered her in the kitchen and was about to pounce on her as my mother broke down in tears. Almost akin to the lifting of a trance, my mama whispered ‘No, no, no’ and the red hue in his eyes disappeared. Wordlessly he returned to his bed and fell asleep. He seemed defeated. My mother narrated this to me after I grew up and I rationalized that the trauma of Runima maami’s death must have triggered my mama and his mental health must have been affected. Years have passed since those incidents; my mama remarried and has a family now. My mother too moved on from these incidents as years passed. The reader must be wondering why I am writing all of it down after all these years. It is because I am standing in the same fateful room now and for the past hour, there have been incessant taps on the windowpane. The taps have grown in fervour after every minute and through the glass, I see the same Nayantara plant fluttering. The night is eerily quiet, the overgrown weeds are as still as a dead body, but the Nayantara plant moves. I think I will open the window. It’s time.

Journal Entries from the Reservation #2

xxems5

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xxems5/journal_entries_from_the_reservation_2/

[Chapter 1](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xwe3r5/journal_entries_from_the_reservation_1/) Hey guys. Here's the second entry from my journal. This one was hard to re-read, especially considering everything that happened after this. Like I said, if you end up in the forest...stay safe and stay prepared. We were weak back then, even if we thought otherwise. Luckily, you have this to read. It might help you avoid some of our stupid mistakes. **Entry #2** Shit got worse. A lot worse. I guess I should probably pick up from where I left off. The next few days hadn’t gone great. Zach was fighting everyone about trying to establish some communication with other camps. Another couple at the camp, Cindy and Darren, agreed. They figured that the rewards outweighed the risks. Eight of us disagreed. That left another eight members of the camp in the middle, not sure where to go. Arguing and fights had reached an all time high. For whatever reason, people started looking to me for answers. It was dumb, in my opinion. Roads and “building civilization” seemed like such a lost cause. In all those apocalyptic movies and shows, humanity comes back by finding a safe area and recommissioning a mall or a prison or a hotel or something like that. In all those shows, there’s something there. There’s something to build off of. Here, there’s nothing. Wooden lean-tos and shelters are all we have. Endless grass, shrubbery, and trees. Occasional waterways and fruit bushes were present, maybe the odd boulder or two. In the end, there was nothing to recommission. There was nothing to go off of. Closest thing we have to an engineer, or an architect is Cindy, who went to college for interior design. We really are useless here. On top of that, there aren’t some finite amount of zombies we can clear. The monsters are everywhere and endless. Lando worked at a zoo before this, so he took charge of cataloging the creatures here. Lando knows more about animals than anything else so it seemed like the smart thing to do. He’s so far identified at least 14 different species. He also decided to catalog the creatures according to the following threat levels to make it easier to understand if anyone new picks up his journal. The first threat level is low, meaning these creatures are just like those back home. They might be able to bite, scratch, kick, or whatever else, but they won’t be aggressive unless they are forced too. The second threat level is medium. These creatures will attack but can usually be dissuaded with loud noises or fire or injuries or something like that. They are dangerous, but they are stoppable. The final threat level is high. These creatures seem to stop at nothing to kill us. At first, we thought they wanted to eat us like the medium creatures. Instead, they seem to just kill for the sake of it. Five of Lando’s species are these low-level fish and amphibians in the rivers and lakes. One’s like a big, teal-colored frog Lando called Teal Frogs. He figured simpler was better and the aliens probably have the proper names for them anyways. He really is committed to his alien theory. The other four are these pretty big fish you can catch if you’re good enough at it. They act just like fish on earth. They have some spines, and you can cut yourself if you aren’t careful, but they’re just fish. Another three of Lando’s species are also low-level. A pretty big type of mouse that has spines kind of like a hedgehog. They’re a little sharper and a little less dense, but it’s the same principle. The second one is a type of pigeon. It looks just like an earth pigeon, except it doesn’t have any eyes. Lando things it’s related to the bat-things somehow. I don’t know or really care. They won’t hurt us. Last ones are these iguana-things. Really big lizards that are in the underbrush of the forest. We’ve mostly been eating these and the hedgemice. Great meat and easy to kill as long as you don’t let them bite you. The medium ones are a bit more difficult. There are four of them. The bat-things: blind, gargoyle-like creatures that drink your blood like some type of fucking vampire. They don’t just take the blood though; they take all the liquid in your body. It’s really, really freak. They’re pack animals who build these nests high up in the forest trees. The bat’s nests are really easy to just stumble into, which is what we think happened to James. Easy to kill and they are terrified of fire. They also can’t see you if you don’t move, which is helpful. The second medium threat monster are the water-creatures that killed the Riverside camp leader. No one’s gotten a great look at one, but they just seem like these tentacle monsters that live in the rivers. No solid information on that, yet. The third medium threat monster are the wolves. These giant fuckers will destroy camps if you aren’t careful. They have packs of at least a dozen, usually two. Huge wolf-creatures with battle scars all over them are scary enough, but the scorpion-tails make it worse. These huge venomous tails, when they get you, kill you in minutes. It’s terrifying. All that said, some loud yelling and shows of force scare them off. Unlike most of the monsters, they seem to value self-preservation a lot more. You hurt one or two of them enough, and the others run off to fight another day. Really not that difficult to deal with, as long as you have the numbers for it. The last medium threat species are the spiders. We haven’t run into a lot of them, but if you get caught in a web that’s it for you. Spears and stone axes can’t come close to cutting through the webbing. Additionally, the spiders spit this type of acid that just…dissolves you. Really gruesome shit. The last two species are the high threat levels. The first are the Fungoids. Haven’t seen any of these myself, but Abdul and Nicky swear they are what took out their camp before Riverside. These huge mushroom things that were at least 9 feet tall came out of the ground and spread these clouds of suffocating gas everywhere. Abdul said that once they got back from running away, to see what was left, small mushrooms had grown out of the dead and were wiggling in the bodies. If I got out and become a host to mushrooms, I’m going to come back and haunt whoever the hell put us here for eternity. Hell, I’m gonna do that anyways. The last high threat level species, and the last of what Lando has catalogued, are the dragons. It’s…hard to explain. They aren’t dragons. At least, not what some shows and stuff back home make you think they look like. There flesh is rotted, and they are dark colored. I mean they are solid black. It almost feels like they draw in the light around them. The only reason we call them dragons are because they fly and breathe fire, or at least what looks like fire. They don’t have scales, just this weird, tight, black skin. It’s really hard to explain, but I’m trying my best. You won’t see them often, maybe a glimpse once or twice a month, but you hear the roars all the time. You can hear them for miles and miles. They are the size of a football field, and entirely unstoppable. No one’s sure what makes them attack. That’s why I don’t think a city like Clearing exists. If there truly were thousands of people in a city, those things would have destroyed it by now. So how did things get worse? I’m not writing this from our camp. Like I said, the fighting had gotten bad. Everyone knows to stay quiet at night. Everyone knows that. We ended up in this heated discussion about taking a vote. People were looking to me to see if we “could” take a vote. I said I didn’t want the leadership role. Zach said some stupid shit about me not deserving it, and Lando responded by saying that at least I didn’t get James killed on a suicide mission. Zach went wild. He started screaming, throwing things, making the loudest sounds he could. He had lost his mind. Actions have consequences. It didn’t take long for the wolves to get on us. Like I said, they aren’t hard to beat if you’re ready for them. We weren’t. They leaped over our barricades like they were nothing. They took out at least a half dozen of us before we knew what was going on. Everyone bolted. I speared one of them, but realized it was about to be me versus a whole pack if I didn’t run. Lando grabbed me and we bolted. Everyone went in different directions, but some of us ended up together. Me, Lando, Abdul, Nicky, and Cindy ended up together. As the sun was coming up, we found something following us. Me and Lando got on it with our spears, but just before we stabbed it, it looked at me. It was Zach. So now it’s the next morning, and we are trying to figure out what to do. On the good side, Zach finally shut the hell up. He hasn’t said a word since. On the bad side, I am now, somehow, the complete leader of this group of dumbasses. I asked what we should do, and they all looked at me. Lando was the only one who said anything. “On your orders, Sam.” He gave me a wink. God help me, they put me in charge. If and when we die, I blame Lando for that stupid fucking sentence. [Chapter 1](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xwe3r5/journal_entries_from_the_reservation_1/) [Chapter 3](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xy9xpf/journal_entries_from_the_reservation_3/)

Pt. 2 - We moved into a new house, but something isn't right

xxax8m

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xxax8m/pt_2_we_moved_into_a_new_house_but_something_isnt/

Pt 1: https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/x17yp4/we_moved_into_a_new_house_but_something_isnt_right/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=android_app&utm_name=androidcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button The next day, in the morning, we returned to our house ready to do whatever it takes to seal that hole… that grate… that gateway to whatever reality we had discovered. I bought lumber, nails, a hammer, and a saw. I figured, if I can just cover it, maybe, just maybe it will go away? Maybe that thing won't be able to get out. We pulled into the driveway and a heavy feeling fell upon us at the pain of returning to what was supposed to be our dream house, which we had been robbed of. I put the car in park and turned to look at Audrey. "I guess we're doing this. Just going to seal it up and hope for the best." I told her. "What other options do we really have?" "I don't know. Maybe we could call some kind of paranormal investigators. I'm sure they'd love this." She answered. "And then what, turn our house into a science experiment? A pilgrimage spot for all kinds of scientists and whackos to just show up and try to gain access? I just want our home. I want peace and quiet. I don't want to become involved in this thing…" I explained, exhausted by the situation. "I know… but this could be world changing." She answered. I sighed, "We cover it up, then we decide our next steps, okay?" "Okay." She answered. I got out, grabbing the hammer, and walked to the door. Audrey came with me, and kept looking in through the front window while I unlocked the door and stepped inside. Audrey followed in, and we headed to the bottom of the stairs. Looking up, I could see the sunlight emanating from the bedroom window into the stairway, and began to ascend slowly. With each step, I listened for any movements, or anything unusual, but the house was still and silent. I reached the landing, clutching the hammer tightly, I raised it above my head and turned into the bedroom. What I saw shocked me beyond anything that had happened so far. It was gone. The whole vent. The hole in the floor. Just gone completely. Wooden boards, an intact floor, wall to wall, like no vent had ever been there in the first place. "What the fuck…" I gasped. "It was right here, wasn't it?" Audrey asked, stepping into the room, she walked over to the spot on the floor. The dresser was still beside it from when we had used it to cover the hole. We pushed the dresser back to the wall, but nothing was there. "Audrey, are we losing it?" I asked. "No! No, this all happened! I know it happened! How could it not have?" She started tapping on the floor, listening for hollow spots, but it all sounded the same. "What if it's like…carbon monoxide poisoning? I've heard stories on Reddit, it can do crazy things to you." I suggested. "We have detectors, they would have gone off." She reasoned. "Something in the water? Radon gas? Something? It doesn't make sense!" I continued to ramble out suggestions. "THIS. HAPPENED." She stated firmly, pointing at the spot on the floor. There were still screws on the ground which we had removed from the grate. "Do… Do you think we're safe now?" I asked. "Let's check the other vents. I'll go downstairs, see if you can see me." Audrey told me, and headed downstairs. "Can you hear me?" I heard her voice from the vent on the window-side wall and headed over. Looking down, I could see her hand waving just above a table. "Yes, I see you, let's check the other room." I called back. She headed to the next room, and I followed. "How about this one?" She called up. I looked down through the vent to see her face looking up at me from below. "Yes, I see you! One more!" I yelled back and headed to the other vent in that room. Shortly after, she appeared below me, waving again. I waved back. She started laughing, and so did I. She ran up the stairs and we hugged and laughed and cried. It was gone. I didn't care why, or how. It was gone, and we could finally enjoy our new house in peace! Several weeks passed, and things seemed to be going perfectly. Aside from the noisy refrigerator, the old house was pretty quiet. Sometimes, on colder nights, you could hear the house creaking as the temperature shifted, but nothing unusual. The house didn't really have many closets, but to avoid having to carry heavy boxes into the attic we used the long crawl spaces that ran the length of the house on both sides, with a door in the wall of each of the two upstairs bedrooms. As we moved in, we packed boxes away into the crawlspace, things we didn't need right away, like holiday decorations, fine china, winter clothes. "Audrey, have you seen the extra blankets? It's getting chilly and I think we should get them out. I've been looking through all the boxes and I haven't seen them." I asked her. "We probably put them in the crawl space. Why don't we take a look up there?" She suggested. "Sure thing." We headed up together. The crawlspace didn't really have much room for people and boxes, so in order to get to the boxes further in, you'd have to pull out the ones in the way, then scoot in to grab the next one. Audrey headed to the second bedroom to look on that end, and I went to the door in our bedroom, opened it, and grabbed the first box. Halloween decorations, that's not it. I slid it back out of the way and reached in for the next box. Winter coats. That would be useful in a few months, but not what I'm looking for. I had to crawl fully inside to reach the next box. I looked down the tunnel and noticed no light coming from the other end. Why hadn't Audrey started looking on the other side? I pulled the box out into the bedroom and looked at the label. Christmas decorations. With a sigh, I headed into the second bedroom to see what Audrey was up to. When I stepped inside, I froze. Audrey had two boxes in the middle of the room, the door to the crawlspace was wide open, and she was nowhere to be seen. "Audrey?" I called out. No answer. I couldn't hear her moving inside either I walked up to the door and crouched down to look inside. Peeking to the right was just a long, empty crawlspace, no boxes left in it. "Audrey?" I called out. Again, no answer. My heart started pounding. Getting down on all fours, I started crawling into the dark passage. I could see light at the other end from the door into our bedroom… at least, I hoped. It was very dusty, and I had to be careful not to lift my head too much, as above me were wooden beams, insulation and nails sticking out. "Audrey?" I called out again. Then I heard the door behind me shut. A cold chill ran over my forehead, down my neck and back. Do I continue forward? I couldn't easily turn around in the narrow passage… I was about three quarters of the way to the open door to the bedroom, but something felt off. I began to scoot backwards towards the door I had entered through. With the door closed, I was now moving into the darkness, unable to see behind me. I had to be careful not to slide my hands on the floor too much for risk of splinters, but I wanted to get out of there, fast. Then, I heard her voice. "Hun, where are you? I found the blankets." It was from the closed door behind me. "Audrey? I'm in the crawlspace. Where were you?" I shouted back. "I went to the bathroom. Hold on, I'll be right there!" She called, and I heard her heading out of the room toward our bedroom. She must have assumed I was on that end. Surely she would soon poke her head in the other end, and I would be able to crawl to the other door, knowing it's just a normal pass from one room to the other, and everything would be fine… I waited a few minutes, getting increasingly anxious. And then, there she was, at the other end. "What are you doing all the way down there?" She called out. "I came looking for you!" I responded. "Where did you think I went when there was no one in the crawlspace, silly?" She asked. "Well… I was worried… the crawlspace… you know… like the vents." I tried to explain. "OH! Oh, I'm sorry! I should have let you know. Well come on now, it will be fine! I'm right here." I breathed a sigh of relief and started crawling forward towards her. "Had myself going for a minute there!" I laughed, as I made my way toward the light and her pretty face. And that's when I heard something which made my brain absolutely separate from reality in waves of terror. "Hun, where are you?" Audrey's voice came from the shut door behind me. I froze in the middle of the crawl space. "A-Audrey?" I shouted. "Are you in there? I didn't see you on the other side." I heard her voice call from behind the closed door to my rear. "Hun, are you okay?" The Audrey in front of me asked. "Audrey…" I yelled, "I think there's something wrong with the crawlspace." "What do you mean, silly? It's just a crawlspace. Come on!" The Audrey at the end smiled. "Wrong how?" The muffled Audrey from the second bedroom behind me asked. I didn't know how to answer. I just kept staring at the Audrey in front of me, half her body illuminated by the light from the room behind her. "Hun, are you okay? What's wrong?" The Audrey in front of me asked. I began crawling backwards, away from the light. "Hun? You're scaring me. Come on!" She called to me as I shuffled backwards towards the door I had come from. "Audrey? Audrey, can you open the door?" I called back. "Hold on, the latch is stuck. Stupid former owners painted over it, makes it hard to lock and unlock it." She yelled through the door. I could hear her fighting with the latch. "Hun, who are you talking to? I don't like this, you better not be messing with me after what we just went through…" Audrey in front of me called down to me. "Audrey, just break the door, I don't care, please, you need to get me out!" I called back. "Why can't you just get out the other end? Why didn't I see you in there!?" Her voice yelled through the door. "Something is wrong Audrey and I need you to get me out right away!" I yelled back. The Audrey at the end crawled in further, "Hun, no! Come on, you have to get out of there!" She started crawling towards me. "Stay right there!" I shouted at her. "Who are you talking to?" Audrey from outside the door asked frantically. I heard the door shaking more and more as she fought with the latch, and finally I was next to it. "Audrey, please, just rip it open if you have to!" I shouted at the door. "I'm trying!" She shouted with a strained voice. I'd had enough, with what little room I had to move, I threw my hip into the door. I heard the latch snap, and it swung open. I backed out into the room, slammed the door shut and placed my back against it. "Audrey… oh my god… there was… there was another… another you in there!" I shouted between gasps of breath. She stood over me, her face full of fear and concern, "Another me? In there?" "Yes! She tried to get me to go all the way through. I don't know where it would have taken me. Oh my god. What the fuck. We need to seal this door." Audrey looked so distraught, but she ran into the bedroom and began pushing the dresser into the extra bedroom. "And the one in our bedroom… we should block that one as well." I told her. I stood and we pushed the dresser against the crawl space door, then headed into the bedroom and moved the second dresser in front of that one. I sank back to the floor, "Audrey… I'm so tired. I can't… why is this happening?" Audrey just looked at me with sadness in her eyes and sat on the side of the bed. "I need to go outside… I don't feel safe in this house." I told her, and got up, heading down the stairs and out the front door. I walked outside, onto the driveway and looked back at the house. Audrey came out shortly after and stood in the doorway, watching me. "Wait… Audrey… where are the cars?" I asked. I turned to look at her, then I looked up. Something was wrong… The sky? There was no sun… anywhere in the sky. The sky was a flat greyish overcast, without texture. It was brighter in one direction, but with this much light, like a thin cloud cover, it would definitely show where the sun was. All I could see was a shallow gradient from light to dark. "Fuck…" I whispered under my breath. Audrey looked at me, then stepped back into the house and shut the door. "Audrey!?" I heard the door locking behind her. "Fucking shit!" I screamed, and ran to the door, grabbing the knob. It was locked. "Audrey!? What's going on! AUDREY!" I screamed at the door. I couldn't believe it. I couldn't accept it. It wasn't her. But if it wasn't her, who was it? Where was I? I backed away from the door and looked around. The trees… they were wrong. I couldn't put my finger on it. The leaves maybe? They were in all the wrong places. I could usually hear traffic from the street, birds in the trees, but there was nothing. No wind either. Everything felt so still. So sterile… unalive… I began walking around the house. What else was wrong? The house was the only thing that seemed right. All the windows, the decorations, even the abandoned wasp nest in the corner. I looked down at the ground. The grass was wrong too, it felt spongey, yet too rigid, crispy, fake, like plastic, but not. Kind of like when there's a winter frost and the grass is crunchy, but it was only a cool fall day. I grabbed a tuft and ripped it out of the ground. The dirt fell away like dust from the roots, drifting away into the air. I brought the grass to my face and smelled. The grass was scentless, but the dirt smelled rotten…sulfurous. I figured, it's definitely not my house, might as well just break in, right? I went to the side yard to find a rock. But the stone wall was gone… the rocks… There were no rocks anywhere. Following the edge of the woods, I headed into the back yard, where there should be another rock pile, but again, nothing. "Are you fucking kidding me." I screamed. And my scream was answered with a distant wail. "Fuck…fuck no…" I whispered, looking across the yard. There it was, the pile of rags, or whatever the fuck it was, on the edge of the woodsline, just beneath the trees. "Fuck this." I hissed under my breath, and grabbed onto a sapling and started to bend it. The small tree snapped strangely, too brittle. The fibers didn't look like real wood. I quietly began heading back toward the house. Another low wail rose from the pile, growing louder as the rags shuddered. "No. No, fuck this, I'm getting back in the house. I'm gonna go back in the crawlspace and find my way the fuck out of wherever this is." I reassured myself, backing away from the pile of rags, I shuffled toward the house, grasping the stick like a bat. As I watched the pile of rags, an appendage began to emerge from amongst the shredded, stained cloth. A long, thin limb, covered in dried, wrinkled, dark flesh. At the top was a single leaf-shaped digit, like a mitten, with a single, long talon that seemed to be able to extend and retract from within it. It reminded me of sand worms from when I used to go ocean fishing, and the way their teeth would just shoot out from their fleshy little mouths. Another limb emerged, and they began feeling about the ground near the rag pile. I tried my best to breathe quietly and continue to walk away silently. A third and fourth appendage appeared, and began stretching and feeling the ground around the pile of rags, and then, it lifted off the ground, first on four limbs, then standing on two, like feet. It was hunched over, but still exceedingly tall. Maybe eight or nine feet if it stood upright. "Fuck this…" I hissed, and turned, running to the front of the house. I heard the creature's wail turn into a shriek. I didn't have time to waste. I charged up to the front door and smashed the sapling against the glass window The brittle sapling shattered into pieces, having no effect on the glass window. "SON OF A BITCH!" I screamed, and kicked at the glass. I nearly stumbled down the stairs. The glass did not shatter, but it cracked, and came loose inside the mounting hardware. I drew back and kicked again, holding onto the railing this time. One of the glass panels fell inside and shattered. The wailing scream of the creature grew louder as it moved across the back yard. "Come the fuck on!" I reached through the broken glass panel and felt around for the locks. I could feel glass shards biting into my arm, but there was no pain amongst all the adrenaline. I found the deadbolt and turned it, then reached down, grabbed the knob and unlocked the door. Pushing inside, I turned and slammed the door behind me and relocked it. Hopefully that would slow down the pile of rags. Fake Audrey would still be in here… I headed straight to the stairs and ran up to the second bedroom. Audrey was standing in front of the crawl space door, the dresser had been moved. "You can't go." She told me. "I don't know who the fuck you are, but I'm going back to my real house, with the REAL Audrey." I told her. I wanted to strike her, to push her down the stairs, to bash her over the head. But I couldn't. She looked just like Audrey… I could never forgive myself. Even if, in my brain, I know she's not the real Audrey… "I've been so alone…" Audrey whispered. "I'm sorry… but I can't help you." I felt sympathy for this thing…this girl… this other Audrey. "I have to hide… I have to stay safe… or it will get me." She stated weakly. I heard the creature wailing outside the house, and strange cooing noises. I could hear it nearing the door. "If only someone would protect me and stay with me. I would be safe, and I wouldn't have to be all alone." She began crying. I couldn't take it. Audrey's tears destroyed me. I couldn't stand to see her cry. It was rare, but when she did, it dismantled whatever stoicism I had in me. But this wasn't Audrey… "I'm sorry. I don't know who or what you are. I can't help you. I need to go back. Please." She looked up at me with her tear soaked face, and stepped towards me. I stepped away. What was she doing? She stepped forward again. I backed out onto the landing between the two rooms. "Please… please…" she whimpered between sniffles. "I… can't." I told her. "PLEASE!" She screamed in a voice which sounded nothing like Audrey, and pushed me. My heart sank into my stomach as I tumbled backwards into the stairs. I reached out to try to grab onto the wall, or handrail, but it didn't help. I fell sideways, and landed hard on my left shoulder. Something snapped, and pain shot through my arm. I tumbled over and slid down several more steps, crashing on my hurt arm with each step until I stopped. "You bitch! Fuck!" I screamed. I could hear the rag beast outside the door crying and wailing. The door was shaking on its hinges. The creature was trying to get in. "Fuck!" I cursed again, rolling onto my stomach, I used my right arm to slowly pull myself to the bottom of the stairs so I could regain my feet. My ribs hurt with every breath, and my left arm was immobilized. Any attempt to move it shot blinding pain from my fingers to my collar bone. I could hear shuffling from atop the stairs… She was going into the crawlspace… "AUDREY!" I shouted. What would she do if she got to the real Audrey? I got to my feet, the pain was so bad, but I had to follow her. The beast outside was slamming into the door. I could hear the door frame buckling against its blows. I didn't have long… I gritted my teeth and began to ascend the stairs, each sway of my body brought with it shocks of pain. "Come on…" I encouraged myself through gritted teeth as I reached the top. I looked at the open crawl space door. Crawling with one arm was going to suck… I heard the door break open and the creature step into the kitchen, there was no more time to waste. I shut the second bedroom door behind me. I dropped to my knees and slid into the crawlspace, reaching behind me with my uninjured arm to close the door. Hopefully the rag creature would not know where to look… I started dragging myself along the floor and shuffling with my knees towards the door on the other end. A woman's scream echoed from the bedroom ahead. "AUDREY!" I shouted. I could hear fighting. The pain no longer mattered, I shuffled with every ounce of strength in my body. My left arm flailed about limply, bumping into my side and the wall, each swing causing excruciating pain. "I'm coming!" I called out. My one good arm, and bashed up knees, brought me to the far end, and I emerged into the light of the bedroom. There on the floor before me lay Audrey in a pool of blood, her head caved in. And standing above me was Audrey, holding a bloody a hammer. "Aud… Audrey…" I stammered. She dropped the hammer to the ground and sank to her knees, shaking. "She… she came out of the crawlspace… She's me. She's fucking me. What the fuck. What the FUCK!" She stammered through tears. "Audrey… is… how… how can I know it's you?" I looked across to her, over the body of the other Audrey, as the pool of blood grew from her head. She just stared at me distantly, "Hun… it's me. I don't know how else to explain it…" "But… I mean… look at her. I didn't really talk to her. I don't know how much she knows. She talked just like you. How do I know…" I stammered through tears. Audrey took to her feet and carefully stepped across the dead Audrey and held out her hand. I took it with my one good arm, and she pulled me to my feet. Then, careful to avoid my injured arm, she wrapped her arms around me and held me close, and her finger tips danced on my shoulder the way they always did when we hugged. Her smell… it was all the way it should be. "I'm sorry. What do we do now?" She asked. "I don't know…" I responded.

I discovered a wrecked ship off the coast of Hawaii, and now my life is in danger.- Part 1

xxdc5z

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xxdc5z/i_discovered_a_wrecked_ship_off_the_coast_of/

​ The heat of the sun beat down hard on the white sailboat. There was only a single cloud in sight, and the ocean waters were placid. I stood up front, watching the approaching atoll with curiosity. “You see that?” I turned back to the man who was steering the vessel. “That wreckage?” He replied. “Yeah, someone could be in serious danger. I don’t see anyone around it but they could be knocked out inside, so let’s check it out when we get there.” “Of course.” As the sailboat came closer to the atoll, I began calling out for any survivors of the wreck. “Hello! Anyone there?” I called again and again but received no response. It was another similarly sized sailboat, but was split into two. The mast had crashed down and the sail itself was ripped into shreds and spread across the sand. Seagulls were circling it like vultures and diving down. I had never seen a boat so destroyed in my whole life. “We haven’t had any bad storms recently right Nathan?” I asked the man at the wheel. “No, none at all. I don’t know what could have done that.” The ocean was beautiful, but like all nature, it was random and chaotic. Despite what many of the average population probably thought, shark attacks are pretty rare. And in Hawaii where I was from, it only happened around once every two years. And I had only heard of one fatality in my entire lifetime. Unfortunately, I had witnessed one of these attacks. It was off the coast of Maui, at one of my favorite spots to take my customers. The customers this time were friends so I was more casual this time, more careless. I had decided to leave my spear back up on the boat. And during our dive, we happened to spot a tiger shark. This was no alarm to me as I had seen hundreds of sharks in my dives, but my customers sort of panicked. I calmed them down, as they would not bother us as long as kept our distance. This one shark felt differently, however. Once it had spotted our group it made a beeline for us. I had never seen one move so fast, it was like it was possessed by a demon. We begin to try to swim away, but the shark came in for a large bite on one of my customers, ripping off part of his arm. And after that, it just left. It was a surreal experience with all the blood and his screaming. The shark hadn’t gotten a lot of his bone so it was just protruding out from the new stump by where his elbow used to be. The man luckily survived, as we were able to get back to the boat and to a hospital in time before he bled out. Many people would have probably never touched the ocean again after that, but I kept going. I had a company to run and I couldn’t let one bad incident kill my passion. I realized that like everything in life, what I did came with risk. Nathan brought the sailboat to the sand, and it came to a stop once it hit it. I immediately jumped off of the bow of the boat and begin running towards it. Nathan followed after me. “Check the back half, I’ll check the front,” I commanded him. He nodded and ran over to his half. Within a few seconds I was at mine, and looking into the gaping hole of the cabin. “Hey!” I called into it, but received no reply. I jumped into it and looked around. The front half of this cabin was a kitchen and a lounge area, which was nicely wooden furnished. It was however trashed by whatever force had destroyed the boat. Appliances were everywhere, and what food was left was being picked at by the seagulls. They all flew off when I came. I judged by the fact that all the food wasn’t gone meant that this had to have crashed very recently. The two oddest things about the cabin however were a broken fish tank and a helmet of some sort. The fish tank was fairly large and sitting on the counter, with the front glass shattered. I didn’t know why anyone would have a fish tank on a boat, but there were some eccentric people in the world. Something about this one thought gave me the creeps for some reason, and I felt an odd unexplainable sense of dread looking at it. The helmet was just as bizarre. It looked like almost a dark grey astronaut helmet or a helmet from some sci-fi movie. I thought it was some fake toy at first but picked it up to discover it weighed and looked real. I decided to not set it back and came back outside with it in my grip. Nathan was walking around the side of his half. “You find anyone Sione?” He asked when he saw me. “No, just this odd helmet. Check this thing out,” I handed it to him. He moved it up in down in his hands. “This feels like something from NASA, not something that belongs on a boat. “What do you think happened to the people on it?” “Well if they’re not here, they could have drowned. Or maybe they’re out there still on a life raft…” “We should call the Coast Guard right now, they can get to searching.” “Alright, our phones are back in the boat. But first I noticed something out by the water. It was one of those bottles with a message in it. Like something you’d see in a movie,” Nathan said to me as we stepped out onto the sand. He begin walking in the direction of the water and I quickly spotted what he was talking about. It was sitting right at the edge, half buried by the sand and being hit by the tiny waves. Once Nathan got to it he pulled it out of the sand and turned it upside down, allowing the rolled-up paper to fall out. It was worn out, torn up, and old looking. He studied it for a few seconds, and I noticed his gaze turn to one of confusion. “What is it? Some kind of S.O.S?” I asked him as I walked closer. “No, no. It’s some kind of map of some sort. But like, an old map…” he said and handed it to me. I took it from him and studied it. It was a map alright, but one of what looked like a crude version of Europe, Africa, and the Indian Ocean. It was labeled in some foreign language and had drawings of all sorts of different monsters on it. There was also a giant whirlpool at the bottom of the Indian Ocean on it. “Weird, but it’s probably just some decoration,” I said and handed it back to him. “I don’t know man, let’s take it with us too,” he said and rolled It back up. I didn’t care much about the map as I did the helmet. We jogged back over to our sailboat and got back on, getting our phones from a storage compartment next to the captain’s chair. “Wait, how did I forget, we don’t even have service out here,” Nathan said as he looked at his phone. He then switched to the camera app. “I’m still gonna take pictures, this is the craziest thing I’ve ever seen,” he said as he begin doing that. I pulled out my phone and also started doing the same. “So what do you think caused it?” I asked. “Hell, Davy Jones’s Kraken? I don’t see how any force could rip a boat in half like that.” “A waterspout?” “We’ve had no storms in weeks. What if it was like a bomb?” “Really?” “I mean look at that helmet, it looks like some important tech. Maybe they were carrying other high-end stuff like that and something exploded?” “Hmmm, the coast guard will probably be better detectives than us. Let’s start going back.” We stopped taking pictures and cast off from the atoll. Once we started going back towards Maui, our reception returned. But before I could call anyone, Nathan stopped the boat and started talking to me. “Wait a second. I think we should keep the helmet ourselves.” “Keep the helmet? You really think the coast guard wouldn’t take it for evidence?” “Only if we tell them we found it.” I realized now what he was implying. “No way, I’m not gonna steal something I don’t even know what it is. Not to mention stealing is wrong in the first place.” “Oh come on Sione. How many times did we steal stuff when we were younger?” Nathan was right. During our teenage years, he and I had a knack for getting into trouble. We often frequently shoplifted from gas stations and Walmarts, with booze being our favorite choice. But after a few harsh endings with the cops, I became a completely different person. I thought Nathan had grown up too, but maybe I had been wrong. “We were kids then, and this is way bigger than any of that,” I said after a pause. “I don’t have the kind of money you do, and that thing looks like it could be sold for a lot.” “Bro, who would you even sell it to? Are you a dark web user now? If it’s really that important the FBI would find you anyway.” Nathan stared off into the water. “Ok, what if we kept it for just a day or two? You know, tell them that we forgot to report it and left it on the boat or some bullshit like that.” I looked down at the helmet again, studying it hard. Attached to the top of it were two flashlights, and I noticed an opening in the front where I presumed a breathing tube would enter it. That’s when I figured it had to be an advanced diving suit. “I think this is a diving suit of some sort,” I brought the idea up to Nathan. “That’d make sense considering we found it on a boat,” he replied sarcastically. I sighed and pulled out my phone, calling the coast guard and reporting the crash. Once we arrived back in Maui, Nathan and I headed to my place and waited to hear about it on the news, but nothing ever came up. I thought that was super strange considering how odd it all was. The more I spent time studying the helmet, the more intrigued I became. Nathan was more fascinated by the map, which I still thought was nothing. Once it got to about 5’o’clock, I figured my wife would be coming home soon. “Still nothing on the news about the yacht. Surely the coast guard has got to have gotten out there by now?” Nathan said as he flipped through the channels. “Maybe they’re still looking for survivors or something,” I said, taking a bite of an apple. “What if it’s some crazy coverup that we got involved in?” He smiled widely as he talked. “Then we shouldn’t be involved. Look, Lilly is back at home and I don’t want her knowing about this. I think we should turn the helmet over in a few days. I just want to study it a little first.” “You’ve lost your edge man, you need to pull that giant stick out of your ass,” “Hey, no need to be so disrespectful.” “Whatever, I’m keeping the map to myself though, and doing some research on it. You sure you don’t want me to take the helmet?” “I wanna take a closer look at it.” “See you soon,” he said and got up, his smile gone. I knew I had upset him with this, but I knew I was doing the right thing. Not long after he left, my wife returned home. We had been together for eight years, and she was just as beautiful as the day I met her. I still remembered that night. Nathan at the time was engaged, and I hadn’t had any luck with girls really. I was supposed to go on a date that night with a girl I had met online, but she stood me up. After waiting on her for about an hour, I gave up and went to join Nathan and his fiancé Maggie at a bar. And at that bar was the girl with another guy. I got wasted that night and ended up leaving behind Nathan and Maggie and walking the beach alone, stumbling around. I passed out in the sand and awoke to a young blonde girl with dark green eyes. I knew right then and there that she was the one, and things had been perfect ever since. Within a few years, we were engaged, married, and had a baby daughter on the way. That night at dinner, she questioned me about my day off. I had hidden the helmet in my car, not wanting her to see it. I didn’t know if she would truly care, but I didn’t want to run any risk of upsetting her. “So, how was your day with Nathan?” She asked “Oh it was fine, we went out to our old atoll, did a little bit of fishing,” I replied “It’s been a while since I’ve been out there. How bout we go sailing out there together on your next day off?” “Of course. We could bring some wine and make it a picnic. But you know, it’s been so long since we’ve left the islands. And our anniversary is coming up. I’ve been looking at places, and I was thinking maybe South America…” “Sione, you know we can’t leave Faith here like that,” she interrupted me. “We could just hire a babysitter for a few days.” “You know how I feel about that, I only trust you and me to take care of her,” she said, standing up from the dinner table to put her plate in the sink. “I understand yeah, but all I’m saying is I’d like some time for just you and to get away from all this stress, go on an adventure like when we first started dating.” “You know that’s not realistic anymore, with a family comes a lot more responsibility. And you know one day when she’s older, we’ll all take trips together,” She looked back and smiled softly, and I felt warmth in my chest. That night, however, I couldn’t stop thinking about the shipwreck, map, and helmet. Long after Lilly had fallen asleep, I lay awake hoping to receive a text from Nathan. And around 1 AM, my phone buzzed. *You up? \`* It was a text from Nathan. *Yeah.* I simply texted back. *Ok good. Call me right now. I’ve gotten some juicy shit on that map.* I looked back to Lilly before quietly slipping out of bed. We lived in a two-story white house, with a large living room with big glass walls. They had a door that led out to a wooden deck. And this wooden deck led out to the dock and a private beach. It was a little windy outside, and our palm trees were swaying gently back and forth. The sounds of birds, the wind, and waves lapping against the sand eased my mind. It was a full moon and bright, but unfortunately with the light pollution from Honolulu, I couldn’t see many stars. I unlocked my phone and called Nathan. It only took a few rings before he answered. “Yo.” “Hey, Nathan, what you got?” “So the language on this map, it’s greek! How weird is that? And the monsters on it are from the Odyssey. You know much about that?” “Not really, isn’t some big poem?” “Actually it’s like an epic. It was written by this dude Homer and talks about this other dude Odysseus who gets lost on the way back from the Trojan War.” “That all sounds interesting, but I still think it was just a decorative map.” “Well if it is they got a lot of things wrong. That giant whirlpool at the bottom of the Indian Ocean is labeled ‘The daughter of Poseidon’. But a daughter of Poseidon would be like a demigod, not a whirlpool.” “It was probably cheaply made then. Look I’ve done some thinking. And I want to turn the helmet over tomorrow to authorities. It’s the right thing to do.” “Sione wait…” I heard footsteps approaching behind me and whirled around to see Lilly walking out to me. “Is everything ok Sione?” She asked. In the moonlight, she looked gorgeous. “Yeah, it’s Nathan. He just couldn’t sleep,” I replied. “Ok, I’m just checking.” She turned around and headed back inside. I didn’t know how much she had actually heard, but I didn’t want to be any more suspicious. “Hey, I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” I said and hung the phone up. Once I got back into bed, Lilly rolled over towards my side. She opened her mouth to say something but was interrupted by a loud scream, a scream that came from the baby monitor on the nightstand. The screaming was followed by a loud crying, and we were up and running to Faith’s room within a second. I reached the doorway first, flung it open, and turned on the lights to see her crying loudly and standing up in her crib. Lilly ran over and picked her up out of the crib, beginning to comfort her right away. “Shhh now, momma and dadda are here now, shhhhhh…” I watched awkwardly, not sure what to do, but Faith was already beginning to calm down. She was 14 months old now, could walk a little, and say two words. I remember her first word, which she said around her one-year anniversary, was just simply “Ma.” And a month later, she was saying “Da” to me. It was her way of calling out to us. But it hadn’t been easy with her. Almost every night she woke us up crying on the baby monitor. Every morning I was exhausted, and sometimes deep down I wondered if Faith would be even worth all this trouble, and we didn’t even intend to have her. Our plan was to wait until we were a little older, and still have more time for ourselves. But the baby had taken up all of our time now. Anytime I thought like this, I did my best to try to repress these thoughts. The next day at work I was training some divers in the back of our facility. We had this super large and deep pool that could simulate waves, so it’s often where I took new Divers to learn before getting in the actual ocean. But the entire time I couldn’t stop thinking about the oddity of the shipwreck. When lunch came around I texted Nathan and agreed to meet him at The Black Flag. The Black Flag was the name of our favorite restaurant in the entire city. It was right up on the beach, open air, and under a thatched-roof cabana. It was also next to a popular surfing spot, and that provided plenty of entertainment. Watching the surfers go and sometimes wipe out. For many years I had tried it, but I could never get it down. Nathan on the other hand had been decent. When I got there I ordered a bacon cheeseburger combo, and took a seat right by the beach. It was a nice sunny day, with only a few clouds out. The beach and restaurant were alive with the sounds of laughter and people taking. Nathan however, did not show up. Instead, two men in suits quietly sat down at my table. “Mr. Tupuola is it?” A bald man who looked to be in his 50s said. “Uh yeah, nice to meet you?” I extended my hand out for a handshake, but they didn’t even acknowledge it. Just stared at me from behind their dark sunglasses. I immediately began to wonder if these people were here about the shipwreck and grew a little nervous. “You can just call me Chapman,” the bald man said before continuing to speak. “Well, how can I help you two?” “Mr. Tupuola, you and your friend Nathan Wesker happened upon a crashed ship the other day on the atoll right? One you called the coast guard about?” “We did.” “Well as it so happens that was a government ship. Part of an organization that we work for. And there was some property on it that was very important to us. When we searched the site didn’t see any sign of it. You wouldn’t have happened to have taken anything from the site would you?” I opened my mouth to tell them about the helmet and the map but paused. Something about these guys didn’t sit right with me. “What government organization are y’all a part of exactly?” I questioned. “That’s classified,” Chapman replied quickly. “Well how can I trust you then?” “Mr. Tupuola, stealing government property is a very serious crime that could have very serious consequences. If you gave it to us now, we’d be willing to let it slide.” “Give what? What do you think I took?” “We can’t say.” I didn’t reply, just silently studied them. The tension was broken by a cheerful waitress approaching our table. “Hey guys! Would you two like to try our new Hawaiian Mimosa special? We have a brand new recipe and it’s on sale…” “No thank you,” Chapman bluntly interrupted her without taking his eyes off of me. “Well, I can take your order whenever you’re ready!” “We’re good.” The waitresses’ smile faded into a solemn frown. “Okkkk then, I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Chapman waited until she was out of earshot and then leaned in forward to me. “We know you’re lying Tupuola. We already braced your buddy Nathan, and he told us everything.” Calmly I reached into my back pocket, pulled out my wallet, pulled a twenty out of it, and laid it on the table. “Am I under arrest?” I asked, my eyes darting between the two of them. They both glanced at each other before looking back at me. Chapman shook his head no. “Well I must be going then, gotta get back to work,” I said and stood up before walking away without looking back. In could feel them staring me down as I walked off. As soon I was out of the restaurant I was speed walking to my car and frantically dialing Nathan. It went through all the rings before going to voicemail. As I approached my Tesla I tried again and again but received no answer. *Hey man, I need you to call me right away. It’s pretty urgent.* I texted him before starting up the car and driving off. But as I was leaving the parking lot a new worry hit me hard. *Lilly and Faith!* Quickly I was calling my wife but received no answer either. Normally I avoided texting while driving but this time I felt like it was justified. *Hey Lilly, I’m just trying to check in on you and Faith. I’ve taken the rest of the day off of work and decided maybe we could spend it together, so call me back.* Normally I wasn’t one for speeding, but this time I was pushing it to about ten over. I didn’t want to risk getting pulled over and being delayed getting home. Honolulu’s traffic was always bad, but the restraint was only about 25 minutes from my house. On the way, I contacted my assistant manager, who actually answered my phone. I told him I had a family emergency and had to take the rest of the day off. They didn’t question any further. When I arrived I saw Lilly’s sedan in the driveway, and my worry grew even deeper. I opened up the glove box and pulled out a taser. I was never one to keep a gun for self-defense, as I didn’t want to ever seriously harm or kill anyone. I stepped out of the car, slipped the taser into my pocket, and slowly approached the front door. When I arrived I reached out and twisted the door handle. It was unlocked. Slowly, I opened the door. I reached my hand into my pocket as my eyes swept across the living room and kitchen. Nothing seemed to be out of place. The first room I went to was Faith’s. She wasn’t in her crib. Next, I moved to Lily and I’s bedroom. It too was empty. My eyes fell on two gold medals hanging next to the closet door, and my mind was pulled elsewhere for a second. But I quickly snapped out of it when I noticed Lily’s phone sitting on her nightstand. I picked it up, eyeing the missed call and text notifications from me. My worry began to evolve into panic as I ran back downstairs. “Lilly!” I screamed. I frantically looked around, breathing heavily. “Lilly! Where are you!” And then I stopped. Out through the window, I could see our hammock slowly rocking back and forth. And sitting in it was the backside of my wife. Hurriedly I opened the sliding glass door and almost jogged out to her. “Lily!” I yelled as I came up behind her. She almost jumped in reaction before turning around to face me. “Oh Gosh, you scared the heck out of me!” She was holding Faith in her arms. By some miracle, she hadn’t woken up either. “Sorry, it’s just I was worried about you. You didn’t answer your phone.” “I’ve been out here with Faith for a while. Did you take the day off of work?” “I did.” “Oh good! Maybe we can do something fun then.” I swallowed hard as I looked past her and to the water. Lying was something I hated doing to everyone, something I always tried to avoid. I prided myself on being an honest man. And now I was gonna have to lie to the person who mattered most to me. “Uh Lilly, I don’t think it’s safe for you and Faith to be here right now.” She frowned at me, and I continued to avoid eye contact. “Some men came by at work today. Sketchy-looking men who wanted money. I told them to get lost of course, but just in case they know where I live and try to do something…” Lilly scrunched her face into a look of anxiety. “Oh my gosh Sione, you have to call the police!” “I’m about to. I just had to rush home to make sure you were alright.” “Were they just some random thugs? Or did they look even more dangerous than that?” “They looked dangerous dangerous. I wouldn’t be surprised if these guys were part of some higher crime organization. That’s why I want to make sure you are safe tonight.” “What about you? You should come with me.” “No No, I’m gonna stay here. The police will probably leave an unmarked vehicle here overnight also. I’ll probably be fine, but I can’t risk anything ever happening to you or Faith,” I said as my eyes wandered over to my sleeping daughter. Lilly looked off for a little bit as if to contemplate what I was saying. “Sione this is a lot. We just got this house a year ago, and I don’t want everything to be upheavaled, to have to get a whole new identity and everything.” “Don’t worry, it won’t be like that.” I reached out and hugged her, squeezing tightly. And at that moment I was comforted too. After that, we all three went back inside and Lilly began to pack her things. Grace was her younger sister, and she lived basically on the other side of Honolulu with her husband Joey. He was a good guy and I had always enjoyed going over to their place. I knew they would understand. On the way out I hugged and kissed her once more. I just hoped it wouldn’t be my last time seeing her. “Be safe,” she called out to me as she started up her car. “I will.” I tried to reassure her, but even I wasn’t so sure of my fate. After she left, I began trying to contact Nathan once again. But as the hours went by I still heard no word from hIm. I considered calling the police; but if these were actually government agents, then it would probably do me more harm than good. I decided not to leave the house the rest of the day, and stayed inside and just watched basketball the whole time. For dinner, I ordered just a pepperoni pizza to the house. Before eating I sent up a quick prayer for my family and I. As the sun set and night crept in, I grew more anxious. If they were gonna make a move on me, it would probably be under the cover of darkness. I also figured they would wait till late in the night. And by 9 PM, nothing significant had happened. Lilly and I had been in the talks about setting up a camera in the driveway and front yard for security but hadn’t gotten around to it. Crime in my neighborhood was incredibly low, and up until now, I had never felt like we were in any danger. But a new idea began to formulate in my head. I had left the helmet in the car this whole time so they wouldn’t find It if they broke in. But now I was thinking: *Why not just hide in the car myself? And watch the house the whole time?* So at about 9:30 I grabbed my tablet and headed out to my Tesla, bringing the taser with me. It was parked in our driveway, but I moved it out of it and parked it further down the road on a hill. With a pair of binoculars I also brought out, I could easily see my house. I had shut every light off in the house, and it looked like no one was home with both me and Lily’s cars being gone. I had decided to leave the door unlocked, however. As I’d rather not have to pay to fix a door that had been broken into. As the night drew on, I felt myself getting more and more tired. I considered going in and getting some caffeine but didn’t want to risk it. Cars had been driving down and up the road all night, but none of them looked or acted suspicious. By the time midnight had come and passed, I was fighting off falling asleep. But around 1 AM, I noticed a black SUV drive down the hill and slow as it approached my house. Once it reached the driveway, it turned into it and quickly shut off its engine. *This has gotta be those guys* I pulled out my binoculars and began to observe them. It took about a minute for the car doors open, but three big men stepped out when they did. Instead of suits like the guys at lunch, they were wearing almost combat-like gear. In the night I could barely make out pistol holsters on their waist. They all approached the door, and one of the men knocked. I expected Chapman to be one of the men, but he wasn’t with them as far as I could tell. After only about ten seconds of no one answering, he reached for the door handle. The door opened and all three of the men stepped in. I had purposely left the curtains open so I could see what they would do. At first, they went through the kitchen, searching everywhere. And then next, the living room. They opened every door and drawer in the house. But they were careful not to make my mess. After searching downstairs they ascended the stairs, but I didn’t get to watch much longer after that. A knocking on the side of my car jolted me out of my concentration. A wave of fear hit me as I looked up and saw another similarly dressed man, aiming a gun at me, just outside the door.

What lurks in the Light

xx9m3q

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xx9m3q/what_lurks_in_the_light/

Have you ever though what’s so different between darkness and light? How do they appear on separate ends of comparison specter? Why are those opposed? Some say that darkness is just the absence of light, or something similar to that, but in my opinion that’s not exactly true. I am posting this, so at least some of you could learn from my grave mistakes. Maybe this will save you or at least keep you sane. ​ It all started with my master’s thesis in theology. I was in top of my class so the expectations were high and bravely took the challenge, as I was quite confident, and after several consultations with my professors the choice stopped at: “The evolution and diversity of religious beliefs in contemporary cults”. ​ I’ll skip through the parts where I’ve visited several so-called “brotherhoods” and “sisterships”, even though some of them were really amusing. Like that one, where members praised some random stalactite, as to them - it resembled Christ descending from the skies. But again - all of that is not really important to the story. ​ Somehow I managed to find the most intriguing one called “The Church of Miraculous Shining of Almighty Lord and His Heavenly Messengers”. I can’t remember how, though. Probably some of my friends showed the leaflet with the Mass invitation, as they were aware of my research. ​ Anyway, I was there on stated date. These guys were huge - they had their own building in the suburban part of the city, and I’m not talking some rented office structure or something bought straight on the brink of demolition, no. It was a huge white triangular church which resembled either a futuristic dwelling or an alien ship. You know - one of those pretentious construction from the mind of a newfangled designer. ​ The insides were spacious and heavily illuminated. The house of God made of glass, steel and light panels. The Mass has started and I examined the clergy attentively - all of them were dressed in white clothes and wore that reverent look on their happy faces, as they were singing pretty common odes to Lord and His wisdom. ​ Then, finally, the Preacher stepped up and began his routine, saying that he was happy to see so many new faces gathered that day. I’ll spare you the details, the summary of his speeches was that the light is God’s gift and not a single creature walking this soil wouldn’t exist if it was taken away. The sun was the God’s present to humanity, so we could love and prosper and each single source of illumination is an echo of his kindness. ​ That was… Pretty medieval, if you ask me, but that’s not the point. Pretty soon the donation plates started to ply around, and I must admit - this Church was quite a popular place, considering the amount of the bills piling up on those. ​ As the Mass was finished and the flock was heading to leave - I went directly to the Preacher, in attempt to get to know their beliefs better. I’ve told him straightaway what was the purpose of my interest and if he would be so kind to share his vision of this church, talk about people who follow them and share some insights on how they organize things around here. ​ And you know what - to my surprise he was more than happy to talk about it. The preacher introduced himself as Reverend Bartholomew and invited me for a cup of sunflower tea. Yes, exactly. It was the holy flower of sunlight and breaking dawn, so I was served a cup full of hot liquid and sunflower petals. This was getting interesting. ​ We talked for about 40 minutes, where most of the topics were strictly theological and concerned more of philosophical meaning, rather than practical explanation of cult’s everyday life. ​ One important thing I should mention: Reverend had quite a remarkable appearance: all of his hair, including eyebrows and eyelashes were of an ash-blonde color, almost white, as if he was an albino. Though his eyes were not even close to a slight shade of red - they were of a pale yellow color. Just as if he had hazel pigment long time before, but with the course of time it just washed away. ​ The day ended with an invitation for the next Mass, best wishes with my work and requests to spread the word about their church. Reverend said that he has much more to share with me, who’s enlightened with the teaching of God, though not at the time, as he had urgent things to care about. ​ Yeah, I’ve left that day barely scratching the surface. This looked promising. The cult where people worshiped God’s light rather more than God himself. So I promised myself to follow up on this lead, as at that time - it sounded more like a wild mix of paganism, Christianity and human ignorance. ​ I’ll fast forward to the end of our next meeting - we talked with Reverend again, and again - he shared some of his beliefs and ideas, though this time we slightly touched the topic of holy rituals and holidays. He seemed excited as he explained, that soon the Day of Divine Illumination would be celebrated. This was their most important day of the year, and surprisingly - he invited me to participate, without blinking an eye. Yet again my theological education opened the doors I never knew existed. ​ This was a huge success for me - observing cult rituals from the front row. Sounded like a perfect material. Summing it up with all the bits I’ve gathered through our improvised interviews - I was almost done with material for my grand example section. ​ So the great day has come and I was there - wearing all white, as instructed (otherwise, they wouldn’t let me in) waiting for Reverend to show up. To tell the truth - I was expecting some theatrical action, some costumes and lots of illumination, maybe. But that was not it. ​ Bartholomew showed up, finally. He greeted me and asked to follow him, speaking on how important this day was to all of them and that I’m about to experience something, that might give me True Faith. We walked through the whole building and up to a staircase leading to basement. ​ If, at this point, you are thinking of human sacrifices and/or a monster with light bulbs in place of its eyes - please don’t. The reality was much much worse, but I am getting there. ​ We stopped in front of the heavy double doors and Reverend stared me in the eye, trying to reach me in his preach: “What you’re about to experience is the Gift. I want you to accept it. I want you to enjoy it. I’m not asking you to believe, but to feel it and make your own conclusions. Light is the source of life. Light of His Grace is the way He speaks to his children. If you open your eyes and your soul to the Lord - you may see the Divine. His Angels surround us, protecting us, supporting us. If you are a true believer - you can see them dancing with the first beams of sunlight hitting the ground, you can see them resting in the light of the campfire in the night, you can see them watching through the headlights, lamps and even in Auroras. Behold and praise His creation!” ​ And then we walked through the doors. ​ I’ve ended up in a large cylindrical room full of people, both men and women, dressed in white. What amused me the most - each single inch of the surfaces inside was covered in halogen lamps, covered with thick transparent glass, even the floor and the ceiling. As of now - just a few were on, so we were standing in a dim lit space, just enough to see around. ​ As the door closed behind us - Reverend started his speech: “Brothers and Sisters, as you know - only the True Believers are allowed to attend. Though today, we have a special guest, who will help to spread the word of our teaching and our ideals.” ​ Suddenly all the people in the roomed slightly nodded their heads, as giving me a bow. I returned the motion. ​ “Today is a blessed day, as today God gifted me with his Light, many years ago. He sent his loyal servants to tell me of his will…” - he continued, and that sounded exactly like you think it does - typical cult leader story. ​ “…as the Holy Book says - There was nothing, and the Lord said: ”Let there be Light“. Rejoice! Rejoice! Rejoice!” - the speech went to culminating point. ​ Next thing - each of the lamps turned on - with minimum power at first, gaining in intensity each single second. Light was everywhere and soon enough it became hard to see. Surprisingly - this approach to staring at pure illumination was not as bad as you could imagine. I expected tears bursting out and severe pain of eyes exposed to such intensity, but it was okay. Just as if I was standing in complete darkness, except it was not black, but white. ​ “Don’t close your eyes! Witness! If you’re a true God’s servant - his Seraphims will appear in front of you!” - the voice of Reverend proclaimed. ​ This was… an interesting experience. It gave a certain explanation of why Reverend’s eyes had that strange color. I think he had been doing this for years and years. At some point I started to worry, that these procedures could actually backfire on my eyesight, but that thought sank quickly… ​ Absolutely unexpectedly something moved in the corner of my blinded sight - a form, or a figure…I don’t know how to explain this properly. Imagine yourself in a completely white room and everything around you is white, so you can’t differ left from right and up from down. And then imagine something that would be next grade of white - same color, but brighter, maybe? ​ Slowly this mysterious shape aligned with my vision and swear - I could differentiate the arms, the legs, the huge wings behind it and a head, wearing a wreath or a crown of some sort. I couldn’t believe myself. Was this real or just a daydream? Hallucination, maybe? The contours shaped to be more clear and I’ve squinted in attempt to see better. ​ A sudden scream resonated from the walls and I got curious to whom it might belong, but as half a second passed and my brain synced with my body - I realized it was my own. My consciousness processed the image before my eyes and I finally understood what I was looking at. ​ It was no angel. It was no God’s servant. It didn’t belong to this world. What I thought looked like a wreath was a bunch of worm-like outgrowths, entwined together, moving chaotically on a crude eyeless head. The wings appeared to be made of meaty sacks contracting and expanding randomly. Its limbs were tails and its body was a slit, hiding dozens of swarming suckers. And it was not alone. I saw the white nothingness tearing apart here and there, ejecting light brighter than the Sun itself with those creatures following through. ​ That was too much to take. My heart started skipping beats being full of primal fear. I remember closing my eyes and heading back, where I expected the door to be. It didn’t help much, as even when my eyelids touched - all I had before me was a vast white ocean of nothingness. Somehow I managed to get out of the room, collapsing to the ground, overwhelmed with my visions and emotions. ​ Reverend, who sounded concerned (I really couldn’t see his face) was kind enough to call an ambulance and take care of all the following expenses. ​ Couple of months has passed since my “rebirth”, if I may say so. I’m typing this blindfolded, guided by built-in audio assistant. I’ve never finished my research papers. I just want to prevent you from making my mistakes. Do you remember how your parents always told you not to look at the light directly, as it would hurt you? That is a thought way deeper than you think. ​ No, I didn’t lose my sight. I’m blindfolded by my own will. It’s better this way that the other. I’ve discovered that they learned about me and they are seeking for the contact. I don’t know what their intentions are, but I do not think of anything good. ​ I you ask me - I think they are just the messengers that were attracted by the fools, practicing their strange beliefs. Each time I see a source of light - I can feel how the matter is ripping, how their tails are tearing it even further, unless I stop looking. ​ Nobody looks straight at the sun, as it hurts us. But did you think about stars? What if those tiny dots of light are peepholes? What if making a wish on a falling star is just another step for humanity towards its own extinction? ​ Ignore it, as those are just my thoughts and I hope I’m just a fool. But what I do know is: I’ve seen the “servants” and don’t want to meet the creator.

The House of Attics and Basements [Part 3]

xxab73

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xxab73/the_house_of_attics_and_basements_part_3/

[Part One](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xsa3mq/the_house_of_attics_and_basements_part_1/) [Part Two](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xvk0pa/the_house_of_attics_and_basements_part_2/) “Was that him?” I asked, but Emily was already running for the house. She sprinted up the front stairs and fumbled for her keys at my front door. They didn’t work. Without missing a beat, she took a pocketknife out of her back pocket and began digging at the lock. “Get the door!” She shouted. “Hurry!” I jogged over as fast as I could and opened the lock. Inside, the house was quiet. Emily started to head toward the stairs, but I held her arm. Opening my security camera app, I checked for activity all around the house and found none. The attic ladder had been lowered. I followed Emily upstairs and down the hall, right to the spot where the Traveler had been standing. “Must have left in a rush,” she said bitterly. “He was right there. Right there.” Shattered glass shimmered like ice at her feet. She looked out into the darkness of the front yard, and the wind from the broken window pushed at her light brown hair. She looked cold, and for a moment, I had the odd urge to hug her, though of course I didn’t. “There’s a chance I can still catch him,” she said. “I’ve got to–I’ve got to go.” She stopped at the base of the attic stairs and tossed me the gun. “Might want to sleep with this from now on. I won’t be back, but he will.” She paused for a moment, and then added. “I’m sorry about some of the things I’ve said before. There are worse things to be than lazy. Back home…” She trailed off. “Just, stay safe. Lock your door. Maybe, if you’re lucky, he won’t be interested in you.” I realized she was still holding the small pocketknife that she’d tried to use to open the front door. Looking closer, I saw that it was my father’s, bearing the distinctive image of Janus. “Wait,” I said. “I can’t let you take that. It’s mine.” She laughed. “Check your pocket.” When I did, I was surprised to find my father’s pocketknife in its usual place. I examined it in the light. Impossible. The knife was custom, not to mention centuries-old. It was like seeing two copies of the Mona Lisa, side by side. “Goodbye, Steve,” she said. She started up the ladder, and I followed. I wanted to tell her to wait, that I still had questions, but she was already practically out of sight. And even though I wanted to rush after her, I could barely bring myself to go into the attic. I followed her up the ladder, slowly, a rung at a time. “Please,” I said as I tried to force myself to keep climbing. “Just one more thing.” “Make it quick,” she shouted back at me. “How do I see you again?” “Like I said, I’m not coming back.” “Please,” I said. “I just–” “If you really want answers, they’re all in the library. I’d start with John Lewis, 1800. He had a lot of it figured out. Read what he wrote. Or don’t. It’s up to you.” I heard her footsteps above me now, moving in the direction of the clock. “Wait,” I tried to add. “With all of those things you were searching for on my computer–” I stopped speaking as a faint blue pulse of light flashed through the room. My head had just reached the attic floor, and through the flash, I saw Emily’s silhouette fading into nothing, almost as if disintegrating, the tiny pieces of shadow being sucked into the clock’s face, which glowed a brilliant blue. Then, suddenly, the light was gone. I turned on my phone’s flashlight and fumbled through the darkness toward the clock. Reaching out, I touched the face and found it cold to the touch, like touching the window of a grocery store refrigerator or a window on a winter’s night. “Emily?” I asked, but there was no response. She was gone, and she wasn’t coming back. The fact of it hit hard. I couldn’t quite explain why, but the thought that I’d never see this girl again hurt me in a way I hadn’t felt in years. At first, I thought it was just curiosity. Between the knife, the weird web searches, and everything Emily had said, I had a thousand unanswered questions. But it wasn’t just that. Even though I’d barely known her for a few hours, and I’d spent most of those at gunpoint, I couldn’t escape the idea that we were somehow linked. Every fiber of my being told me to follow her. But how? I examined every surface of the clock, looking for a way to open it. I tried to find any sort of door or latch–anything that would open the clock so I could look inside, but there was nothing. I knocked on the clock, searching for hollow spaces, but there was no sound. I may as well have been knocking on a solid tree trunk. Over the next few hours, I tried it all. Knocking, kicking, shouting ‘open sesame,’ and my own name, and my father’s and Emily’s, but the clock simply continued its tick tock, its mechanical laugh. I was sweating now, even with the cold night air. I brought up a six pack to drink and cool down. Then I tried to take the clock apart. I lugged my father’s rusting toolkit from the barn and got down to business. I tried to pry open the wood inlay with a screwdriver, but I couldn’t even scratch it. It was as if the wood were steel or iron. Ever weirder, the ancient glass of the clock’s face was just as strong. I tried screwdrivers, drills, and then a hammer. Finally, I brought a heavy garden shovel and swung it at the clock's face with full force. It, too, bounced off with nary a scratch, as if the glass were a brick wall. Same for the wood base. The shovel ricocheted off it and gave my hand a nasty cut. Clock 1, Stephen 0. Next, I tried to budge the clock from its position against the wall but found it to be completely immovable. No matter how I strained, it remained in place, as if bolted in place with steel rivets. A crowbar made no difference. The things was stick. All the while, the clock continued its incessant ticking and tocking, an unseen pendulum swinging even as the second and hour hand remained in place, both pointed directly and the seven. Giving up, I went downstairs to clean and bandage my injured hand. The smell of isopropyl alcohol was intoxicating as I poured it over my wound, and I quickly found myself back in the kitchen, opening a bottle of red. Carefully, I took my Sharpie and drew a line in the usual spot on the wine bottle, committing myself not to fall back into bad habits. In truth, though, it had been a stressful day, and I couldn’t be blamed for breaking a minor self-imposed rule. The clock, after all, could wait. I walked to the office and settled into my father’s chair, a Bordeaux glass in hand, watching the light catch the red swirls as I helped the wine breathe. Searching the shelves, I found the old, leatherbound family archive I’d seen my father leaf through on occasion and flipped through the years until I got to 1800. My father had been an obsessive, unable to let go of even the smallest problem. Once, when his truck wouldn’t start, he had disappeared into the garage overnight, toolbox in hand. He was a farmer without much mechanical experience. But I woke to find him still awake, his truck disassembled all around him, each small part carefully organized according to some complex system known only to him. “Don’t touch anything,” was all he said. For three days, my father practically lived in the garage, leafing through the owners manual and fiddling with various gears and pistons. On the fourth day, he slept for nearly 24 hours. Then he woke up and got back to work. On the fifth day, the truck was reassembled, and on the sixth day, my father drove it to town, returning with a two hundred-dollar bottle of scotch. He had taken a rest in the same chair I sat in now. Here, he slowly took down the bottle two inches at a time. Twelve years old, I had entered his study cautiously and congratulated him. “All I did was not give up,” he said. “Try it sometime.” He shook his head, drank a bit more and settled deeper into the soft leather of the chair. “French lessons. Guitar. Dancing, for god's sake. I’ve still got the Clarinet you never even opened. Little master. Dilettante. Little master of giving up.” It had been a few hours later, long after my father had passed out dead asleep, that I woke to see a stranger watching over me. He sat in the antique rocking chair in the corner of my room, the one where my mother had once held me, even when I was far too old to be babied. He didn’t speak at first, but I heard a slow, scratching sound and smelled the distinctive scent of pine. Paralyzed in fear, I didn’t move, trying to breathe evenly so he wouldn’t realize I’d seen him. As the minutes passed, I saw moonlight catch the wide side of a blade in his right hand and realized he was whittling. I couldn’t be sure, but it looked like a small pocket knife. “I had considered,” said the man, his voice oddly familiar, “hanging you by your feet, your neck opened just so above the collarbone. Up somewhere high. A tree or a roof, so that they found your puddle first. Another option would be skinning you alive.” “Please,” I said quietly. “Please.” “But what. Would. Be. The. Point?” He stood now, nearly shaking with anger. “Your death would barely register. Just like your mother’s.” He paced the room, dragging the knife along the wallpaper, which slowly peeled. “What do you want?” I asked. “That’s easy,” he said, still pacing. “All you’ve got to do is keep up the good work. Keep being you.” My father claimed he didn’t believe me, at least to my face. Over time, even I had come to believe the visit was a nightmare. Now I knew the truth. The Traveler had been there all along, waiting for something. Waiting until I had something to lose. [Part Four](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y2lryb/the_house_of_attics_and_basements_part_4/)

Porcelain skin, blonde hair.

xwyo4l

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xwyo4l/porcelain_skin_blonde_hair/

The dark web is a fascinating place. I shouldn't have ever found it, but I did, owing to my strong inclination towards matters related to IT and an unquenchable thirst to learn about anything related to the computers and the internet. I had found many disturbing things on the dark web, like websites selling everything from play-doh to the children who played with it, and some selling cars or second hand computers. But a few days ago I found one particular website that intrigued me greatly. I won't give the name out here, but the best way I can describe it is by saying that it was just like reddit, but for serial killers. At first I thought this whole site was some sort of practical joke, but some of the posts on there were written with such sincerity and seriousness that it was rather hard to believe that what I was reading was purely satire. I remember chuckling to myself when I first found a post about a man murdering a family of five. But as I read the post, I felt bile rising up in my throat. I discovered to my horror, that these people were actual, deranged, serial killers. Even after finding out that this was a platform crawling with legitimate psychos, I still couldn't let it go. To my dismay, most of the primary targets were young attractive women in their 20's. This fucked with my head, because I fit their criteria perfectly. I found that I became increasingly paranoid, seeing stalkers everywhere, and got more and more frightened of going to the supermarket alone. Most of them were just people of average IQ who thirsted for blood and violence in an effort to seem dangerous. These dumb ones sometimes gave out important details in their posts involving their location or the identity of their victims. Very few of them were actually intelligent killers who actually took joy in killing, who stalked and profiled their victims carefully before hunting them down. It was these posts that scared me the most. One such user drew my attention. His posts weren't gory like the rest. They were written in an artistic, almost eerily beautiful way. His writing was sophisticated yet simple. I had found my first truly dangerous psycho. His username was *PorcelainSkinBlondeHair*. So apparently he had a type. After stalking him, a found a folder on his profile with pictures....of every single one of his victims. A few pictures of them while they were alive, and one when they were dead. Unlike the other killers, he didn't take pictures of them going to work, at the supermarket, or walking back home. The pictures were taken when Mr.BathAndBodyWorks and the woman were at dinner or watching a movie together. He had dated all of these women before murdering them, which just made him scarier. Then I came across a picture of one his victims after he had his way with her. My food rapidly rose up to my throat and my eyes filled with tears as I stumbled to my bathroom and puked my lungs out. Tears and saliva were flowing down my face as I collapsed shaking in front of my toilet. His bio made so much more sense now. *"I want to sleep on her soft, blonde hair and use her porcelain skin as a blanket."* I had discovered the closest thing to an actual incubus. A menace to human kind, the most psychotic, demonic thing I've ever come across. He made my organs turn in my body. This man wasn't human. Each adventure of his lasted just over a a few weeks. And just yesterday he posted pictures of his latest victim. I gasped and covered my hand with my mouth as I pushed my laptop away from me. *I knew her. I knew that girl.* She was the pretty one who worked as a cashier at my grocery store. I had seen almost a doll-like, handsome blonde man come pick her up in his car many times when her shift ended. He was here. He was here in my neighborhood. My breath came is bursts as sweat poured down my forehead as I staggered away from my desk. I clutched my chair for support as my brain struggled to process everything that my eyes had just read. As I stood in the middle of my living room, it was sheer willpower that kept me on my feet. Just then, there was a knock on my door. I crept towards the door as quietly as I could. Whoever or *whatever* was on the other side must have sensed my presence even though I didn't make a single noise. A quiet voice, resembling that of a child's said sofly; *"You have very nice skin.*"

What A Wonderful Smile

xx7b2d

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xx7b2d/what_a_wonderful_smile/

I am going to put a disclaimer here. All names in the following will be pseudonyms, and I will not be disclosing the company I work for. Though I have asked those related to this story if they were comfortable with me finally disclosing the following events, I do not want to bring anyone else further into this. Thank you. ​ Legends have been told in many ways. There are the ancient myths, the mysteries, and the stories that can send a shiver up anyone's spine. Of course, many of these tales originate from ancient anecdotes passed down through generations and recycled campfire tales used to torment younger audiences, but the following is not one of these stories. Please do not ever think that The Chamógelo is fake. I became a journalist in my early twenties. I graduated with a bachelor’s degree in journalism from Syracuse University and was so excited for everything to finally begin. My dream career was just ahead of me, I was comfortable financially, and my new job gave me opportunities I couldn’t even dream of; plus, I got to see the world for what it was. Not the prettied-up shit that I wrote in the paper, or the just-out-of-reach narratives of distant countries, never to be experienced by the average citizen. Everything that wasn’t familiar almost felt fictional; which was what made me most excited about being in media. I got to travel to any country I wanted, and thus, I was able to make what was previously fiction into reality. I never stayed in one country too long, and because of this, I was able to visit most of the world before I was thirty. I covered the stories that no one else would, and, quickly became the go-to guy for questions about horrifying places and disturbing events. It was taxing, I will admit, but it was my passion. Upon my arrival back in New York following a long, excruciating assignment in the mysterious Koh Kor Islands of Cambodia, I was looking forward to my well-deserved break from the hauntings, and the exhaustion that came along with jet lag. I stepped into my stale apartment, alone, drained, and ready to sleep for an uninterrupted and unforeseen amount of time, before my phone rang. It was Michael Lewis. The head reporter, and my boss. We did the casual back and forth about my travels before Lewis addressed the reason he called. “I was hoping to catch you at the airport, kid.” He began, “So, listen. You know Greece, right? I mean, you’ve been there before and liked it enough…so I’m sending you back! We’ve heard reports of this story about “the Grinner” or something, and it sounds right up your alley.” Michael paused again; this time I spoke up. “Yeah, sure. Hey, uh, listen, Mr. Lewis, I really can’t do much of anything right now. Can we push it until next week?” I figured that was a pretty plausible request. It wasn’t like he was the one running around from different countries and having to endure all the physical effects. The response warranted a sigh from me: “Sure kid, does Tuesday work for ya?” I rolled my eyes, “yeah, whatever,” I confirmed rather unprofessionally before he and I said our goodbyes. It was already Sunday when he called. I did not think about Greece, or much of anything, for the next day and a half. I slept for as long as my body would physically allow, and when I woke up, I began packing. Late on Monday, I received a plane ticket, and approximately five hundred Euros; the typical protocol for my seedy boss. How he got the money? I never asked. I never wanted to, I just did as I was told. The more I think about it now, I can see how wrong the whole thing was. Now, don’t get me wrong here, I love Greece; so whenever I had the opportunity to visit, I always took it. I have a few ties in that country; so if I ever needed a place to stay, I was always welcome. I still am. My ‘ties’, The Roberts, grew to be my very close friends; always providing for me, teaching me everything I know about their country, and caring for me like one of their own. They were a fairly well-off family, we met through a coworker, and they were completely hospitable whenever I stayed with them in Greece. Despite all the lavishness I experienced during my time with the Roberts, I knew that I had a job to complete. It was easier to justify leaving for this adventure knowing that I’d have more time to spend with family upon my return. ​ A typical investigation for me included a few tools: my camera, a notebook, and a guide about the area I was exploring. I’d then go and ask locals about the legend and, finally, I’d go try to hunt down whatever it was that I sought. Over twenty years of doing this job; I have yet to see anything as horrifying as what I came across then. I cannot stress this enough. Never go looking for the Chamógelo. I am only telling you my story to try to ward off any other adrenaline seekers. Please, use this as your adventure, and stay far, far away from that mountain. When I first entered the journaling field, my boss was infatuated with the idea of someone like me travelling the world as a skeptic and “myth-busting” creepy legends. For the most part, I was never put in danger, and would often just be sent to prisons, tunnels and asylums around the world. All of which were either heavily maintained by the tourism companies that owned them, or abandoned and left to the devices of drifters and teenagers. These were primarily marketing schemes to drag bored teenagers and curious adults back to newspapers; and though my stories only made it in half the time, I was having fun. This being one of my first expeditions, I was ecstatic. I got to climb a mountain by myself, with only the information I brought with me. Unlike any of the other stories I’d heard; this one was completely fascinating to me. The tale went; “Αν φτάσετε στο σπήλαιο Δαβέλης στο δεύτερο ψηλότερο βουνό και απαγγείλετε αυτή τη φράση, ο χαμόγελο θα κάνει μια σύντομη εμφάνιση που δεν θα ξεχάσετε ποτέ.” Which, in English, roughly translates to; “If you reach the Davelis Cave on the second-highest mountain and recite this phrase, Chamógelo will make a brief appearance that you will never forget.“ I couldn’t wait. After interviewing locals about this creature, I was met with grandiose stories of terror and despair. I was repeatedly warned not to go to the cave, not even to step foot onto the cursed mountain, but I did not listen. Why would I? Anything that caused the locals this much fear was something I needed to experience. I wish now that I had listened, and will forever resent myself for what I did. But I was just a kid. I had no idea how bad it could become. I went alone up the mountain. A very kind tour guide gave me a brief rundown at the base of the mountain before rushing far away from the place as if a curse bubbled at the cracks in the rock. I thought nothing of the fears displayed by the people. I was simply too vain. They were just cowards. The hike was treacherous. I was running low on my food supply very quickly; my water had vanished by the end of day three, and I assumed that my death was going to be slow and painful; induced by natural factors and not mythical creatures. Fortunately, though, the guides had told me that once I reached the Davelis caves and recited the phrase, my “greatest wishes would be granted,” and that a large feast would be waiting for me. I really doubted it at the beginning, but the farther I inclined, the more I wanted to believe it was true. By the end of the fourth day, I had reached the climax of my journey; the great cave that I was destined at the beginning of the journey to approach, and there it was. It was so easy to miss. Only a tiny, man-made footpath marked the entrance to the long trail I had to take to access the cave, which I noticed right away. It was as if it was calling to me. My mouth began to salivate, and my eyes started running as well. My stomach had already begun to eat itself by the middle of day three, and I knew then why people are so quick to resort to cannibalism. It was a scary thought, sure, but the way some well-preserved, deceased hikers that I walked by were looking? It was almost too tempting. As I crawled up the last little trail in my journey, I started to hear something, a sound that would never leave my mind again. In the distance, just above the wind, there was a small titter. I swore I heard it, and that this was not just a hallucination caused by the lack of every basic necessity I needed at that point. That laugh caused a shiver to run up my spine so fast that I nearly fell. I kept going though. The mountain was not going to overcome me. I wouldn’t let it. ​ I could see it. The cave that everyone had told me about. The sound of the laughter only amplified as I closed in on the threshold of the Davelis Cave, but the feeling of triumph dragged me towards my destination. I was not going to give up now. Before approaching, I took a moment to stop and recite the passage, and as the last word left my lips, a smell emerged. It was tortuously delicious, and when I climbed up those few shambling steps, all I saw on the table in front of me was the most delectable food I have ever seen in my life. The thought of how it got there, or why, did not cross my mind; I had found the food I was promised, and though the main goal of this expedition was far more important than an all-you-can-eat meal, I did not stop myself from eating as much of it as I physically could. The more I ate, I noticed, the more laughter I could hear, and the louder it became. It was no longer a nice giggle, nor a welcoming one; it was the laugh of someone, some*thing* who was in all ways, completely insane. I had never heard anything like it. My intense hunger prevailed, though, and only when I truly could not eat a single bite more, I began what I came here to do. Debunk the myth regarding The Chamógelo. ​ The laughter, I can remember, was becoming deafening. My head began to pound as I looked through this enormous cave to see what, or who, I would find. Normally this would have freaked me out, but after being stranded alone on a desolate, cold mountain for four days, I needed to see this creature. To photograph it. To communicate with it. My stubbornness outweighed my fear, and I felt deserving of this victory. The roaring laughter was everywhere now, but I pushed forward. I recall having spent nearly four or five hours in the cave before finding what I’d been looking for; five hours of feeling so full I could be sick, so tired I could fall over at any moment, and my head was so sore from this laughter that I nearly turned back. But that was when it finally got to me. As soon as I felt too weak to continue, the room I entered next was the room that I had been searching for. This was the room of The Chamógelo. Please, if you are already convinced not to go to these caves; stop reading; because if this doesn’t change your mind, maybe you deserve to be its next victim. What was once likely a very beautiful young woman, was now nothing more than a terrifying husk. The elongated body of this thing exposed a terrible austere that I hope never to have to see again. Its naked frame had the physique of a woman, but the figure of this creature was non-existent. Its breasts had been torn off and discarded somewhere in the rotten-smelling room, and the hands of the thing were fingerless; bound tightly, with knives protruding from the cavities of its knuckles. After a moment to take in the looming creature, I knew I had to leave. I was naive and stubborn, and usually, I could withstand scary things; but this beast was unlike anything I had seen before. My decision was confirmed when I caught sight of its terrible face. A face that could not have been replicated by anyone in fear of death just from the sight. The eyes were hollowed out, leaving only two black holes with decaying sclera dangling from the empty sockets in place. The nose, well, there was no nose at all. It looked like this creature was completely without such a feature, it was wrong to look at. But that mouth, that fucking mouth, still haunts my dreams every night. The phrase “smiling from ear to ear” would be an understatement for this creature. Its mouth was pinned to the side of its head by corroded safety pins; there were no lips, just a giant depression in its face, pinned up to appear smiling. The skin around this makeshift maw was creased and rotted; inside hid countless rows of razor-sharp, bloodstained teeth; fragments of skin and bone hanging from between certain teeth. That was all I allowed myself to take in before turning around and running back out. But it saw me. It saw me and chased me on those legs that I could only have assumed would break under any strain, let alone a disturbing, bounding gallop. I thought I had more than three hours to run out of this area, but when I rounded the corner, I saw the table where I’d had my feast. The disorientation of the situation was over-shone by utter horror when, atop the table, where I assumed to be the remnants of a meal, were nothing more than rotting bones and decaying human flesh; similar to the shreds of skin between the teeth of the creature. I looked down at my hands and saw that what I’d assumed were condiments caked onto my fingers, was, instead, a thick layer of coagulated blood. I had eaten humans. Forgetting that I had to escape, I began to yell and sob, gagging as soon as my body could react to what was happening. The creature was still behind me, though, and was approaching fast. Before I had time to start running to the door, that door that was not even two feet away, I fell, and The Chamógelo landed on top of me. I thought this was going to be my death, and sometimes, I wish it was. I assumed that I was going to end up on the table of meat and death, just like the people I had eaten. The creature loomed over me, its mouth curled up into a smile, the laughter ceasing for a moment. Licking at its rotted lips, it leaned down, and through a deep, gargled tone, the creature was able to mutter four words. Words that, at the time, instilled in me, a primal fear, and that would soon make much more sense. “*What a wonderful smile*.” It sat up, drool dripping from its agape hole onto my face, my consciousness wavering, and soon failing. The creature looming over me was the last thing I saw. Those words, the last thing I heard. ​ According to the Roberts, I returned six days after I left. That creature kept me in its grasp for two more days, and I have no recollection of a second of it; probably for the best. After the ordeal at the mountain, the family took me back into their arms; though disappointed in me for not believing them. They healed and nurtured me until Micheal Lewis arrived later in the next week to bring me home. I will never forget the face of that man when he saw me again. He looked scared. Scared of me. The creature had mutilated me in that cave. I was not in any pain when I woke up, but I still cannot bring myself to look in a mirror without hearing that insanity-induced laughter, or those few muttered words that will forever haunt the shadows of my mind. I am writing this, sitting in my darkened office, with the screen on my computer as bright as it can be to avoid catching a glimpse of my mangled face. I wish so much that I’d listened to everyone’s stories closely. That I could take back my naivety before trekking up that cursed mountain and doing this to myself. Please do not go and try to find The Chamógelo in Greece. The creature might not spare your life as it did mine. I cannot have anyone else meeting the same fate as the table of human decay, or, selfishly, the fact that I can no longer look at myself. I wish you the best of luck if you are a traveller, and I do hope you go and solve some myths out there. But if you ever hear a story about the Chamógelo, the Grinner, or any other variation of such; do not investigate. It could cost you your life. Or your sanity. I still hear that distant laughter every time I shut my eyes.

Every October 1st, the eighteen year old's in my town go crazy for one night. We call it the Teen Purge. I just found out what it what it really is.

xwjvbe

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xwjvbe/every_october_1st_the_eighteen_year_olds_in_my/

Before I start, I want to know if you’re worth saving. I wonder. If this was you. If this was your decision. What would you do? Would you give in and surrender yourself to your fate and be comforted with the fact that you have saved billions of lives… Or run? ... I want to tell you this in one post, but unfortunately there was too much to say. I will write up the rest tomorrow. ... Have you ever been punished for something which wasn’t your fault? It sucks, doesn’t it? When I was in kindergarten Jonas Lockhart complained someone had stolen his milk and made such a big deal about it, kicking and screaming and stamping his feet, our teacher had strictly told us that none of us would be getting milk for the rest of the week until the thief came forward. They didn’t, obviously. We all knew you didn’t hide milk because it would get warm and lumpy. The culprit had quickly swigged the contents and cleverly hidden the evidence right under everyone’s nose. So, our teacher kept her word and made sure none of us had milk for the rest of the week. Instead, she brought in apple juice boxes which tasted sour. That day would then go on to be labelled The Great Milk Incident and was the sole reason behind the genius idea to start marking names on each kid’s carton. I remember sitting cross legged on prickly carpet, squeezing my half-empty apple juice. I was seething. It wasn’t fair, I wanted to cry out. It wasn’t fair that we all had to be punished for someone else’s stupid mistake. I had no idea how good I had it. I had the luxury of being a naïve child being able to wear rose tinted glasses and have no idea they were even shading my eyes, protecting me from a secret my town didn’t even try to hide. I was six when I realised life wasn’t as good as I thought, and milk thieves weren’t the only bad thing in the world. Noah Sharpe was the town’s golden boy and destined for an Ivy League. He was also my mother’s friend’s son, and he often came around to hang out and watch SpongeBob SquarePants with me after school. I remember Noah had a great laugh and told jokes that made me spew milk out of my nose. Noah Sharpe was my mother’s murderer. And the worst part? He didn’t even know he was doing it, didn’t even have control over his actions. That is what I was told, at least. I was told that Noah would never intentionally murder my mom.  I didn’t understand what was happening when mom locked all the doors one night and told me to hide under the kitchen table. I knew there was a certain day every year where I had to stay extra quiet and not go near the doors or windows—but mom had never told me to get under the table. She always protected me from figuring out what was really going on, from  tearing off my rose tinted glasses and seeing reality for what it truly was. A town suffocated by a curse which turned the senior class into monsters.   And had recently taken hold of Littlewood’s golden boy. I hadn’t been expecting Noah to break through the window along with three others. I recognised them as other seniors he hung out with. Poppy, who worked at the diner. She always gave me extra chocolate syrup on my sundae. Then there was Luce, our papergirl who always smiled at me widely and asked if there were fairies in my yard. I used to feel safe around them, enjoying their hissed conversation and giggles. I liked it when they came over to talk to me and complimented my Patrick Star shirt. I didn’t understand why mom was so scared of them at first. The four of them looked exactly like the elder kid’s I knew, but something was wrong, and I was too young to see it. These kids were devil’s hiding in plain sight, monsters bleeding from the dark. Shadows with no faces.  Noah was the first to come through the door whistling a Disney song I automatically knew. You’ve Got A Friend In Me. Something ice cold slithered down my spine when I saw him swinging a carving knife around like he knew exactly how to use it. His footsteps were slow and calculated, playful, as he stepped back and forth, laughing, calling out if anyone was home while mom pushed me under the table and stepped in front of it, blocking me from his view. I remember the gleam in his eye when he walked in and found my sobbing mother begging him to get back. I started to tell her it was Noah, and he’d never hurt us, even after catching his fingers tightening around the wooden handle of the knife. The twist in his lips knotted my tummy. The friendly smile I’d known for most of my life was gone. Everything I knew of him was gone. Noah didn’t see me under the table the night he had grabbed my mother by the neck, wrenched her head back and sliced open her throat until she was spluttering and gurgling on her own blood.  The human mind is a strange thing. It will automatically try and block out potential trauma before you can fully register it, but there was no way I couldn’t. There was no way I couldn’t not see my mom being brutally slaughtered. Noah didn’t stop with her throat. He stabbed into her stomach until the teeth of the blade was slick red, and he was panting, laughing, giggling into my mother's hair. I remember watching pooling red stain her prized carpet and wondering if she was going to get mad—and then realising my mom wasn’t moving. The three of them left after trashing my living room. The others bound out of the front door, while Noah grabbed our TV and flung it at the window, shattering the glass. It was when the strangled cry escaped my lips, his head whipped around, dark eyes shining in the dim. He didn’t even look at me.  Noah looked straight through me, his mouth breaking out into a monstrous grin. He was covered in her. Covered in my mother, startling red spattering his face and coating his hair. But he didn’t seem to care, instead revelling in it, in his own undoing. It was an insanity I didn’t know or understand or knew existed. But I knew it was him. It was all of him, everything that made the boy up, a lapse in lucidity and a madness twisting his expression into a monster I had imagined under my bed. He scanned the kitchen for a moment, half lidded eyes flicking back and forth before bidding me a salute and diving out into the night. I stayed under the table until sunrise. Just like mom told me. Every other year she’d treated it like a game. And I had been too blinded by excitement to realise it was a distraction. “Okay, Bee,” mom whispered into my hair through panicked breaths. “We’re going to play a… a fun new game.” “What kind of game?” I asked, flinching when I felt her body seize up, her quivering hand coming to rest over my mouth. There was a bang from outside, followed by laughter. Mom ducked down lower, holding me tighter. So tight I thought I was going to suffocate against her woolly sweater. “We’re going to see how long we can stay under here,” she breathed. “And you have to stay extra, extra quiet, okay?” With my mom’s phantom words ringing in my head, I buried my face in my knees and stayed as still and quiet as possible. I could hear them outside. Without mom to clamp her hands over my ears and block them out, they were in vivid clarity I couldn’t ignore or deny. Their war cries and whooping, cheering and laughing from boy’s and girl’s alike. Followed by screaming, the sound of a baseball bat shattering a windscreen and thundering footsteps as they ran past my house like animals. They noise bled into the night and then early hours. There was a girl’s voice at the door. She asked if there was anyone inside, and I opened my mouth to tell her my mommy was hurt. That I was scared.  But she started laughing, and I could hear the crack of her head slamming into the hardwood. She didn’t stop. I wanted her to stop, but she continued, moving around the house, banging on the windows.  The girl never came inside, making it her goal to make sure I stayed stiff, paralysed to the spot. The next day, the police found me. I couldn’t move. My mother’s blood was congealing on the carpet and the police officer wearing a forced smile took me away from my mom’s still body, and my trashed house, and I found myself living with my aunt.  I wanted to know why Noah and his friends had taken my mother away from me, but I was just kept in the dark and given lame excuses because apparently the truth was too much for a little kid to handle. So, I continued to live in the dark. I did notice days and weeks after my mom’s death, I didn’t see any elder kids. I usually saw them biking around town or in the diner talking over burgers and milkshakes, but there was no sign of them. No sign of Noah. The town had been turned upside down; store windows still smouldering from being set alight, crumbling house’s with their windows smashed through. There was a flower memorial in the town square, and then a candle lit vigil I was urged to attend. It wasn’t just my mom they had taken. They had killed others too. Other families. Other mom’s and dad’s. Kids. But I couldn’t understand… why? I got my answer a few years later. When our mayor first told my third grade class about Littlewood’s curse, he used the example I gave you. The stupid milk story. I don’t know if a teacher had told him or maybe it was just a coincidence. I personally think it was to soften the blow. If you straight up tell a group of little kids that their fate is becoming twisted psychopath’s in eleven years, they’re going to freak out, and rightfully so. However, if you add something they recognise like putting on the voice of a well-known cartoon character or in his case, using the story of The Great Milk Incident as a metaphor, we would be more likely to understand. And we did. Sort of. I got the idea, anyway. He didn’t explain it very well, often tripping over his words and using manic hand gestures, but I managed to understand. After all, I desperately wanted an explanation behind my mother getting her throat slit by a boy I had trusted with my life—only for him and most of the older kid’s in town to vanish without a trace. Without repercussions for their actions. According to the mayor: October 1st, 1799, 20 eighteen-year-olds died in a tragic fire and their souls had refused to pass on, refused to forgive a town which let them die. So, these kids decided to take it out on us. “See kids, sometimes you will get punished for things that are not your fault!” Our mayor had told us. “And that’s okay!” It was a last “fuck you!” to future gen’s who had absolutely nothing to do with their death. It was the town’s people who screwed them over, so why were we in the firing line? It didn’t make sense to me.  The town didn’t call it a curse. We were supposed to call it a “phenomenon” but the deceased spirits of ancient kids who refused to die, filling every generation’s head and turning them into twisted psychopaths definitely wasn’t a phenomenon. We were cursed. They had turned Noah into my mother’s killer, and would do that every year following, including my class. The youth of our town were cursed to be murderers from sunset to sunrise, and what did we do? Nothing.  Because what could we do? Leaving town wasn’t an option. Apparently, neighbouring towns were convinced it was some kind of virus which could spread.  So, anyone under the age of eighteen was stuck. Literally and figuratively. If we tried to leave, regardless of age, we were locked away in a room of white. I should know. I tried to skip town at the age of 10 and spent three months in a specialised hospital ward. Which leads me to last year. October 2021. It was my 17th Teen Purge, and the first time I’d actually been caught up in it. I wouldn’t count the time when I was six. I was merely an observer, as I watched my mother butchered right in front of me. Noah and his class were identified as her killer’s, but as far as I knew, they had gotten a pass because it wasn’t technically their fault. I found out from my aunt that the senior class were shipped off quietly the morning of October 3rd to avoid complications. I never saw them again.  Which was a good thing. If I ever saw Noah’s face again, I knew I’d hurt him.  The child inside of me didn’t care about a stupid curse. I had still seen him kill mom with his own hand. His twisted smile and glittering eyes. As I grew up, I grew less frightened of The Teen Purge, and more curious. By the age of twelve, I was guarding my front door wielding a baseball bat. I only had a vague notion of self-defence, but if the door so much as rattled, I knew my cowardice would sent me hurtling up the stairs and barricading myself in my room. I didn’t think I’d ever wake up tied to a sun lounger with Olivia Rodrigo blasting in my ears, but I guess there’s a first for everything. That's what you get when you turn Gen Z into twisted psychos.  I had a vague memory of locking my aunt’s doors and windows as usual and giving her a hug before she left for the night shift. I went upstairs to my room, crawled into bed, and drifted off to the sound of Super Eyepatch Wolf’s most recent retrospective on a TV show I didn’t even watch.  I don’t remember them snatching me from my room. Just the aftermath, and a vague memory of a girl with a cheshire cat grin throwing my laptop against my bedroom wall. The Wonderland Smile. That’s what I’d pegged that look of insanity on their faces. I woke with a dull pounding in both my temples and the dizzying realisation I’d been thwacked from behind. A baseball bat, maybe? Or a lead pipe. “Wakey, wakey!” The guy’s shriek sounded like nails on a chalkboard. Someone cranked the music louder and I was enveloped in a sense of utter surrealness pushing away the fog in my brain and my spinning head trying to jar itself off of its axis. Maybe I had been infected with the Littlewood curse a year early, because hysterical guffaws of laughter were bubbling and brewing in my throat, threatening to let rip. I felt… honoured, in a way. I had actually been invited to a senior party.  I’d been trying to sneak into one for three years and they had let me in for free. The bastards even escorted me themselves. If I was going to die before I was inevitably turned into a monster which would rip away an innocent life in my future—so be it, right?  Taking a moment to swallow my laughter when I really shouldn’t have been laughing in that situation, I assessed my surroundings. I was kneeling on something plastic, my  bare knees stinging from stagnating in the same position.  I definitely wasn’t alone. I counted at least three pairs of hands bound to mine in what felt like jump rope, and something was stuck to my face. Silly string? I knew the stink from my childhood where I thought it was a good idea to spray silly string all over my aunt’s living room. There were also certain things I was trying to ignore.  I’d been hit hard enough to send my brain spiralling, and the more I thought about the possibility of brain damage, I was just freaking myself out and imagining things. I was fine. The blood running down my chin and tainting my lips was normal—especially in a town like Littlewood where it was the norm to find cannibalised townies strung up around town like they were prizes. “Hey!” Someone was in front of me. I could feel their breath tickling my face. It stunk of rot.  “I said wakey, wakey!” “Mmpphh.” “What was that, Tarran?” The sound of tape being ripped from flesh made me cringe. Tarran was a freshman boy who lived down the road from me. “I said fuck you.” He was met with hyena-like shrieks of laughter and I bowed my head, panting into uncomfortable stickiness against my lips. Fuck. Was I really going to die? When I finally managed to pry my eyes open, my vision was a confusing blur of nothing before I shook my head, hopefully dislodging my brain from the puddle of maple syrup it had rolled into. As my vision returned slowly, I found myself staring at a pool of glittering water. It was an overwhelmingly beautiful sight—or maybe that was just concussion talking. Ignoring the boy crouched in front of me, I focused on gentle ripples of water glittering under hypnotising lights, a stray beer can floating on the surface. I was kneeling on a bright orange sun lounger with three other bodies uncomfortably pressed to mine and at least three layers of duct tape over my mouth. The boy crouching in front of me was Tommy Nolan, a quiet senior on the school newspaper who looked like he was dying inside if you looked him directly in the eye. Under the control of Littlewood’s curse, however, Tommy Nolan adapted that same psychotic grin and glittering look in his eyes. Like it would thrill him just to cut me open and see what was inside. He had already started. I noticed his latest victims once opening my eyes and judging from the muffles shrieks and violent squirming from the others tied to me, so they had they. I was trying to concentrate on my own life teetering on the edge of the mortal coil, but every so often my half lidded eyes would find the startling spatter of red glistening under patio lights which caused a visceral reaction I was struggling to keep under a cool façade.  There was nothing like showing them you were terrified. I think I could have actually died that night, my body ripped apart and my head put on a spike for the rest of the town to see the next morning. But sometimes miracles happen. And that miracle happened to be loose restraints. I remember being paralysed to the spot, staring wide-eyed at the trail of guts splattered across the patio, handprints and smiley faces written in pooling crimson. They didn’t just kill the owner’s of the house, they played with their bodies, marking their presence with spilling entrails. I was aware of a girl jumping up from the sun lounger and grabbing my hand, urging me to run with her. And I did.  I ran. I didn’t look back, but they weren’t following us. Like zombies, or vampires, or any other mythical monster, Tommy and his gang had caught movement ahead of them and gone in for the kill. While I was running, I made a silent pact with myself that I had to die before I turned 18. I would… I don’t know. I’d throw myself in front of a car or slit my wrists open. I wouldn’t become one of them. But there’s a huge difference between thinking about doing something, and actually doing it. I tried. I stepped out in front of traffic in the summer with full intention to throw myself in front of a truck.  Except my legs wouldn’t move. When I tried to move them, my body stiffened up and my brain freaked out. I tried slicing my wrists but I just ended up in the emergency room. I couldn’t do it. Something inside me still wanted to live. My 18th birthday came and went and before I knew it I was biking to school on October 1st 2022. Five hours before the curse took effect and I was late for quarantine. The town had no way to stop us causing havoc after trying every method in the recent years, but nothing worked. If we were knocked out, we’d just wake up seconds later. If we were tied up, we’d pull ourselves out of our restraints.  Quarantine was the school’s attempt at locking us in. But every year they got out. So, I didn’t exactly have hope for our year. I wasn’t thinking much of anything at that moment. I was just enjoying the cool graze of wind on my cheeks and blowing my hair back. I was watching a spiral of fall leaves caught up in a whirlwind when my phone vibrated in my pocket. I hesitantly pulled it out with one hand. “Is it me or are people being extra shittier to us today?” The voice was familiar and immediately put me in a better mood. Kenji. I had been anxiously waiting for him to call most of the day. “It’s you.” “No, but if you just listen to me, I have solid evidence.” I felt my lips pricking into a smile. “You’re paranoid.” I said with an eyeroll. Across the street, though, an old woman was staring directly at me as I biked past. Mrs Renfield was the owner of the local thrift store and used to offer me candy bars when I was a little kid. I was so used to her kind smile and the wrinkle between her brows like she was permanently deep in thought.  Right then, she was just standing there, eyes narrowed, like I was a freakish devil spawn. Ignoring a shiver slithering down my spine, I focused on the road. “I retract that statement,” I murmured. “Mrs Renfield just shot me the death glare.” Kenji scoffed. “Mrs Renfield is always giving people the death glare. It’s like her quirk.” “Nope.” Tightening my one-handed grip on my handlebars, I pedalled faster. “This time it was definitely personal.”  “Ouch.” He said. “It makes sense though, right? Everyone hates us. We’re town pariah’s until sunrise." I spluttered. “Wow. That makes me feel so much better. Thanks, Kenji.” His laugh loosened the knot in my gut. “You’re really bad at sarcasm,” He said. “Oooh, wait! I can see you ahead!” I could hear him behind me, his yell entangled in a particularly tumultuous gust of wind which almost sent me tumbling. “Bee! Hey, slow down!” I did, twisting around to see Kenji catching up to me. He was a fast moving blur of dark brown hair spiralling in the wind and kicking legs going to town on his pedals. It was the worst day of all of our lives and yet he was still smiling. I liked that about him. The world could be ending, and Kenji would still have an infectious grin on his face. I couldn’t help smiling when he finally caught up to me. Kenji was your average conventionally attractive guy. Tall and athletic with a Hollywood smile and striking Asian American features which had been described as “exotic” by our classmates until he called them out. And rightfully so. Kenji didn’t take any shit and smiled at the world like it wasn’t royally fucking him over. I think that’s why I had gravitated towards him. “Look! No hands!” He yelled behind me, and I twisted around to laugh. “Do you want to fall?” “Maybe!” His laugh caught in the wind. I could hear his panting breaths getting closer and closer. “Yo.” Kenji saluted me with a two-fingered salute. When I got a proper look at his expression, his smile wasn’t as bright as usual. It wasn’t surprising considering it was our judgement day, but somehow I still expected him to push his way through the negativity. I guess I was wrong.  When I caught his eye, he wasn’t quite looking at me—more like right through me, his thoughts elsewhere, probably with his mom. There was a haunted vacancy in his eyes I couldn’t bring myself to fully take in. Like he was already being twisted hours before.  Still though, when I forced a smile his way, he seemed to snap out of it and shook his head, sucking in a lungful of air. “Don’t you just love the smell of pollution and cat shit at this time in the evening?” "Oh, yeah." I shot him a grin. "Nothing like the stink of an animal’s decaying digestive system to make me feel alive." He laughed, before piping up with, “What would you do if an asteroid was destined to hit us?” Weird question. “I don’t know. I guess I’d spend as much time as possible with my loves ones?”  “And what if you could stop it?” “The asteroid?” I scoffed. “How?” He tipped his head back and groaned. “Dude, just answer.” “Well, yeah.” I said. “Of course I’d stop it if it’s going to kill billions of people and end life as we know it.” Kenji's smile darkened slightly. “Even if the Asteroid killed you in the process?” Something about his words drew the breath from my lungs. “Why are you asking me this?” He looked like he might reply, before seemingly deciding against it. Whatever he wanted to say faded when the curl in his lip pricked into a smile. “I’m just envisioning going to visit my dad before Christmas. If I can get through tonight, I’m good.” I couldn’t help noticing every store in the town centre was either closed or shutting down early. There was a little girl standing outside the hardware store clutching an iPad. When she caught my eye, she ducked her head. I knew exactly how she felt. When I was a kid, and knew of Littlewood’s curse, I hated the elder kids. I wanted them gone. For killing my mom – for ruining my life.   “That’s a good way to think,” I said, swallowing hard. “You literally have the ‘fifteen sleeps till Christmas’ mentality.” He snorted. “It’s better to laugh than cry, right?” The closer we were getting to school, I was feeling progressively sicker. “What are your plans for after?” “After?” “When we’re kicked out of town.” I said. “I heard there’s a halfway house they’re sending us to. But don’t you want to run?” He chuckled. “Where will we go? They said they were going to protect us and continue our education until we get to college.” I sent him a look. “Do you honestly want to stay in some half-way house under constant surveillance? And that’s if we don’t…” I trailed off, but to my surprise he continued it in a sharp breath, his tone darkening. “What if we brutally murder someone?” “Well, yeah.” I said. “But that… that’s not going to happen.” This time Kenji laughed harshly. “I’d say the odds are fairly against us considering our town’s track record.” We stopped at some steps, but Kenji kept going, speeding up. Something warm crept up my throat and I kicked myself into a manic pedal. "What are you doing?" Kenji came to a stop and twisted around. "A thought experiment," he said, trailing the sidewalk with the heels of his doc Martins. "If I fall and die, won't that save my future victim?" He laughed, but it was choked, almost hysterical. "If I'm... if I'm destined to kill someone, and I die right here right now, won't they live? I’ll be saving someone instead of murdering them.” This time he wasn't even trying to hide the hollow look in his eyes. He was smiling, but it was too big, a gaping grimace. Almost a Wonderland Smile. "Kenji." I said sharply. "Stop.” He did, coming to an abrupt halt before his bike could hurtle down the steps. He was panting, his grip tightening on the handlebars. "I'm going to see my dad." He said. "I'm going to see my dad, as soon as this is all over, and I've left the halfway house. And everything... everything will be okay." He turned to me with hopeful eyes. “Right? We’re going to be okay, Bee.” I swallowed words suffocating my mouth all the way to school. I couldn’t give him the response he wanted. When we arrived at school, Kenji and I were cuffed and led to the gymnasium where most of the senior class already were. If it weren’t for the glitter of silver I caught on everyone wrist, I would have thought I was walking into a pep rally. It wasn’t as Dystopian as I’d imagined. Spirits were unusually high. At least they were on one side. The varsity team were hyping each other up for reasons nobody knew. Lili Marriot was trying to lift morale by preaching to a group of wide-eyed kids about God, and that he was going to protect us. Bullshit. I didn’t say that though, as Kenji led me to the middle of the room where most of our class were either lying on their jackets or staring at the wall looking like they wanted the ground to swallow them up.  Kenji dropped down onto the floor with a smile way too wide for someone who had a 99.9% chance of committing a felony against his will, leaning back on his elbows. He pulled out his earphones. I followed, hesitantly, sitting next to him. “I heard if you listen to loud music, the curse doesn’t get you.” Kenji murmured, untangling his earphones. “That’s bullshit.” Jonas Lockhart slumped down with us, and I caught the exact moment Kenji decided he was going to shuffle closer towards me. Kenji was out of the closet and had been crushing on Jonas since freshman year. He revealed said crush while drunk at junior prom, only for Jonas to ignore him and then make out with Wendy Carmichael 10 minutes later.  Drama. Since then, Kenji had made it his mission to keep his distance, and Jonas wasn’t getting the hint. I had a feeling Jonas was struggling with his own sexuality, and Kenji was kind of inpatient. Also.. they were both too stubborn to admit feelings and were being equally immature. Still though, at least Jonas was trying. He plucked an earphone from the boy and corked one into his ear. “Fleetwood Mac,” Jonas nodded with a smile. “Nice.” With his hands still cuffed in front of him, Kenji awkwardly yanked the earphone from the guy with a scowl. “I’m sorry, do you hear something, Bee?” He pretended to squint. “I can’t see anyone though. But I can hear a slight breeze.” “You’re a comedian, Kenji.” Jonas rolled his eyes. “I just wanted to know if you wanna have a smoke? I know a guy who can uncuff us before Mrs Hill catches us,” He leaned back with a sigh. “You know, before we’re all turned into actual crazies.” “I’m okay.” Kenji murmured. Jonas cocked a brow. “Really? Because there’s some things we should probably talk about. Maybe. If you want to.” “I said I’m okay.” “Kenji.” I nudged him when Jonas jumped up and walked away, his shoulders slumped. “You do realise he’s trying to talk to you, right?” He avoided my side-eye, a smile crawling on his lips. “I know. But it’s more fun to ignore him.” “You two look like shit.” Kenji looked up, and I followed his gaze. Our third Musketeer was looming over us. Mira. She was hiding behind thick red curls she usually tied in a ponytail. “You can talk.” Kenji’s expression dampened, and I noticed her smeared eyeliner. “Have you been crying?” Mira plonked down next to me, burying her head in her knees. “My mom didn’t even text me to say goodbye.” She mumbled into her tights. “I can understand how it must feel for her, but it’s like she already thinks I’m going to hurt someone tonight.” “Your mom’s kinda terrible,” Kenji patted her on the shoulder. “No offense.” “No, she is.” Mira sniffled. “She gave birth to me in this stupid town. How is it my fault that I was born here?” I grabbed her hand and squeezed it. “Did she not text you at all?” “Nope.” Mira choked out a laugh. “She left for work before I even woke up.” I hated that part of me understood why Mira’s mom chose to distance herself, but it still fucking hurt. The three of us talked for a while. About everything and nothing at all. TV shows and movies, and what our thoughts were on the latest Tik-Tok trend. Anything to take our minds off of the time—which was ticking by. I watched the sky darken outside, and the expression’s on the guards at the door start to tighten. They were starting to panic. I could see it in their faces. It was around five to eight when I started to get restless and my stomach was doing flip flops. Every year the same feeling hit me like a wave of ice water. And I always thought Noah gutting my mother. It was a memory I couldn’t get away from. In past years I distracted myself, but I was in the eye of the storm. Which was getting closer.  It was between eight and eight thirty when the curse took effect (according to the mayor. He never gave us a specific time, so thanks for that) and I really needed the bathroom. I was starting to feel sick to my stomach, my mouth watering with the looming sensation of barf creeping its way up my throat.  Excusing myself from a conversation I was  only half listening to, I jumped to my feet, struggling with my cuffed hands. Pushing my way through seniors, I headed to the exit doors where a crowd of guards had all congregated. When one of them situated himself in front of me with a no-nonsense scowl, I couldn’t resist glancing at the weapon attached to his belt. “Bathroom.” I said, when he shooed me away like I was a raccoon. “I think I’m going to be sick.” The guard’s lips twisted. “We’ll bring you a bucket.” He grunted. “No.” I found myself saying stiffly. “No, I need to go to the bathroom. I really don’t want to throw up in here.” I don’t know if I looked pathetic enough for him to have sympathy or he just wanted to get rid of me, but the guard stepped aside and let me back out onto the hallway. I was surprised no guards followed me. Thankfully I didn’t spew my guts. When I was on my way back to the auditorium, a group of people in white marched past me. I didn’t think anything of it until I saw what they were carrying with thick gloved hands, plastic masks over their faces.  Metal canisters.  Making sure to keep my distance, I followed them to the janitors closet which was pulled open. Looking at the canisters, at first I thought it was gas. But then I caught splashes of something dripping down the side. It was clear like water but was slightly thicker and had a potent stink which seeped into my nose and throat. It was strong stuff. They were going into the sprinkler system. I knew from several years back when a junior had tried to douse the cafeteria in Gatorade for a prank. When one of the people in white heaved a canister into his arms, I started to back away slowly, my heart in my throat, my brain already in overdrive. Whatever they were putting into the sprinklers was man-made, I thought, pushing myself into a stumbled run. So, if that substance was what was turning kids psycho every year, did that mean there was no curse?  I made it back onto the hallway and I couldn’t breathe. The auditorium was right in front of me. No sign of guards. When I slammed my fists into the door it was locked. I pressed my face against the glass, glimpsing Kenji sitting with Mira. My gaze went to the ceiling—to the sprinklers. But it didn’t make sense. Why would they do this? Eighteen years of lies, I thought dizzily. What were they doing to us? How did destroying their own town and killing their own people benefit them? When I found my voice, I pounded against the door. “Get out!” I screamed, tackling with the handle. It wasn’t Kenji who locked eyes with me. It was a girl I didn’t know. She looked up from her phone, her gaze meeting mine. Her hopeful smile twisted into a look of fright. I kicked the door. “Out!” I yelled, pointing at the ceiling. I twisted around, searching for guards. “Sprinklers!” “What?” She started to get up, started to call out to me—but rough arms were snaking around my waist, a clammy hand slamming a wet rag over my mouth. I opened my mouth to scream, but I was already breathing it in—that toxic stink I’d seen dripping down the side of the canister. The arms holding me tightened their grip and my senses were drowned out by the smell seeping inside me, poisoning my lungs. But it wasn’t just inside my lungs, it was in my blood, heavy in my bones and bleeding into my brain. I was aware of being yanked to my feet, but I couldn’t stand. The auditorium doors were behind me, and I was being dragged back down the corridor. My body felt fake, like it wasn’t even mine. I could feel it like a parasite, a virus, leeching itself onto my skull.  My brain was on fire. Everything was on fire. Through half-lidded eyes, I was aware of something dripping onto my face. It came slowly, splashing onto my cheeks before waves of red were hitting me, a scarlet waterfall of glittering gore. It was staining me, tainting me, bleeding into me before it began to rain down. It was warm and wet, drenching me. Turning me into its canvas. At first I tried to get away, but my feet were glued to the floor. But as the parasite inside my skull gained the upper hand, I stopped trying to tear out my hair and rake my fingernails down my face. Blinking rapidly, I saw... fire. I saw blurs of orange and yellow enveloping squirming flesh catching light. And I heard screams; guttural cries crying out for death. I could feel them. All of them.  All of their pain, their agony. Seventeen years of memories hitting me one by one. Like bolts of lightning. I thought that was what turned us. That was what twisted us into monsters, a reminder of every other year. Every murder. Every splash of blood. Every maniacal laugh. Because when I came to, I was no longer in school. The first thing I noticed through blurry vision was that I was crouched in front of a squirming figure, and above me, the sky was a colourful deluge of yellows and oranges and pinks. Sunrise. Slowly, my gaze flicked from the pretty sunrise to the figure-- who slowly bled into a shadow, and then a woman, whose eyes I had plucked cleanly out. They were in my hands, squished between my fist, and my lips were split wide open like I’d carved a Wonderland smile onto my own face. I could still feel the rush of adrenaline I’d felt while hacking a man’s head off and taking my time, scooping out each of the woman’s eyes with a spoon doused in salt.  I wasn't thinking about the woman begging me to kill her-- and the headless torso of her husband at my feet. I wasn't thinking about my hands slick scarlet and the taste of rotting flesh in my mouth. I was still seeing flashes in my head, memories which weren't mine. A school bus, blurred faces around me. Someone else's thoughts were inside my head. I shook them away. All I could think about was Littlewood's curse. As I turned around slowly, and pushed myself into a run, my gaze finding the sun slowly rising over the horizon. I was halfway across a town which had been ripped apart over the last few hours. Headless bodies littered the streets. Cars had been destroyed. Buildings set on fire. 2022’s class had really given the other year’s a run for their money. I found my phone in my pocket, a text lighting up the notifications. A text sent 10 minutes ago.  Kenji: We need to talk. Now. I'm at the scrapyard. Come alone. Bad people around. Kenji, I thought, swiping my bloody hands on my shirt. It wouldn’t come off. My thoughts were spiralling. I needed to find him. But... How... How had he texted me if the sun was only just rising?  I was caked in blood- which wasn’t mine and It wouldn’t come off. I was fucking painted in it. When I caught sight of Emily Carter on her knees, sobbing into the hollowed out carcass of her mother, I started to wonder: For the first time in eighteen years, my mind was clear. This curse... who really started it?

there is something wrong with my parent's farm

xwz3t1

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xwz3t1/there_is_something_wrong_with_my_parents_farm/

A bit of context, My parents recently bought a farm last year in Australia and have been building a property on it for their retirement. It's right beside a national park and reasonably close to the next property over. The only thing that sucked is that we have no cell service besides the top paddock where they are building their house. Not too dodgy right? Well, I'm a university student (21F) in my second year of nursing and frequently come up to the farm to help them out with their livestock and whatnot. At first, everything was fine, we had a small 2 bedroom cabin in the lower paddock that I stayed in every time I came up. My room had a large window that faced into the national park and at night when it was pitch black would freak me out a bit but nothing serious. Sure, we had the usual noises of foxes and the livestock at nighttime and nothing out of the ordinary. Things really ramped up when I had to stay up there alone to feed the livestock for a few days while my parents were back in the city. I went about the usual chores, feeding the sheep, keeping an eye on our lambs and checking in at the building site to keep an eye on everything. I went into town to get some dinner at the local pub and by the time I got home, it was roughly 10pm. I would usually take my car up to the top paddock at night to call my friends, check social media etc... My car was lit up by my internal navigation system that's always on which meant I couldn't really see outside the car besides from my headlights. I was midway through my social media scroll when I thought I saw something black flash across the paddocks where my headlights were facing. I drove my car in a quick circle to use my car's headlights as a massive torch and didn't see anything, no reflections of cattle eye's like I usually do, or the usual fox or rabbit. I tried not to pay too much attention to it and went back to my social media scroll until I accidentally pressed my brakes which allowed my brake lights to flood the paddock behind my car with an eerie red light. The same black flash that I saw through my windshield flickered out of the corner of my eye in the rearview mirror. Now I got suspicious. I turned off the music I was listening to and just sat for a second trying to assure myself I was just tired. After a few seconds of silence and I was relieved and was about to turn my car on to go back to my cabin and that's when I heard what I can only describe as claws on my rear windshield (tap, tap, scratch). I have never sped as fast as I did back to the cabin as that night. That night, I couldn't shake the feeling of something watching me in the forest. You know that sort of tingling sense of something staring into the back of your head. After tossing and turning I put up a newspaper in front of my window that faces the woods until it was completely covered and the feeling immediately went away. Sleep didn't come easy safe to say. The following night I chose to go to the top paddock while it was still reasonably light. All was reasonably peaceful and I had all but forgotten last night's events. I was admiring the gorgeous pink sunset when I saw a flash of green in the sky travel for a split second and then disappear. Now listen I am not one for UFO's but I know it wasn't a helicopter because it was light enough to see the sky and the stars weren't even up yet. I thought it was cool so I called one of my friends who is a massive sceptic about everything paranormal and of course she thoughts I was nuts and proceeded to give me shit for it. It started to get a bit dark for my liking so I went back to the cabin to cook some dinner. All was fine until I went to sleep, the newspaper from the night before still clinging to my window. I woke up around 2am to the sound of the sheep making a racket. I grabbed my dad's rifle assuming it was another fox and went to take a look on foot with my spotlight. Now, usually, when you bring a very bright light and piss off the sheep who were already going nuts you hear about it. The keyword being usually. I walked over to the paddock and started scanning with my spotlight and didn't see anything, the sheep were bleeting like crazy but none were injured or even remotely in a corner of the paddock huddled together like they usually do when there is a fox. That was until they all went silent. One second they were so loud they echoed around the hills and the next it was dead silent. Now I was truly scared. I raised my rifle and started looking around feeling like everything around me had its eyes on me. It was then as I heard a thump of something heavy being dropped on the ground. Heavy enough for me to feel the vibration in my feet. I booked it back to the cabin and locked everything behind me. I was pacing around double-checking the doors and windows when I heard it. It sounded like humming but distorted alongside footsteps. These footsteps weren't human though, it was as if it was limping and then quickly recovering (step, step-step, .. , step) around the cabin and stopping at my bedroom window. I curled to the ground, gripping my rifle until my fingers were frozen in place. That was how I fell asleep that night. I left first thing in the morning without even looking to see if there were footsteps. Now, if anyone has any clue what is happening, what this thing is or can tell me what I can do please comment. I haven't been able to go back to my parent's farm.

I went hiking around Merrill Creek Reservoir and found a cave that took me to the Cretaceous period

xwygk1

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xwygk1/i_went_hiking_around_merrill_creek_reservoir_and/

I just want to start that I’ve always been fascinated with nature. I love being out in the woods and seeing and hearing the various animals that live out there, it’s just so peaceful. Every chance I get, I go hiking in the various parks and nature preserves in my home state of New Jersey and some parts of eastern Pennsylvania as a way to unwind after the workweek. A few months ago however, I had an experience while hiking around Merrill Creek Reservoir that makes no sense. Nobody knows what happened to me because I’m afraid if I did tell anyone what happened, they would have me committed to a mental hospital. I’ve tried keeping my experience a secret, but I feel like I’m slowly going mad thinking about what happened, so I decided to post my experience on this site to get this off my chest and maybe get some closure. Now, here’s my story. It was a hot day in July, I arrived at Merrill Creek Reservoir around 10:15 in the morning. I stepped out of my aging, but reliable pickup truck and smelled the fresh air, relieved to be out in nature after a long, stressful week of work. I set out into the woods and started hiking, it was absolutely beautiful. The sun shone brightly through the trees and as I walked the trails, I saw all kinds of wildlife on my hike. Frogs, squirrels, chipmunks, robins, geese, herons and even a bald eagle. Two hours into my hike, I had to take a leak, so I walked off the trail so I could relieve myself. After I finished, I noticed the entrance to a cave on the side of a hill ten feet away from me. This peaked my curiosity as neither the trail map nor Merrill Creek’s website mention this cave. I walked closer to it in order to get a better look. The entrance to the cave looked big enough for me to be able to walk through it while crouching. I should have turned around and walked back to the trail, oh god! How I wished I had just turned around! But curiosity got the better of me and I ventured into the cave. Now I should tell you, I didn’t take a lot with me on my hike, especially to be exploring a cave. All I had on me were my keys, my wallet, a small flashlight that was powered by a AAA battery, a pocket knife with a three inch blade, a satchel that had a granola bar and two bottles of water in it and my phone which had poor reception out in the woods. If I had gotten stuck in that cave, I would have been fucked! I walked around in that cave for ten minutes when the walls suddenly got narrow, I looked through the opening with my flashlight and saw that the walls on the other side got wider and turned towards the left. Against my better judgment, I exhaled as much air as I could and was able to squeeze through the opening. I then rounded the corner and noticed the skeleton of some kind of animal on the cave floor. I looked closer at it and at first, thought it was the skeleton of some large bird, but then I noticed something wasn’t right. The skeleton had a long tail and instead of having a beak, the skull had a snout with razor sharp teeth. It was then I had a realization, I was looking at the skeleton of a dromaeosaurus! Now I know what you’re thinking, you’re thinking that I found a fossil of a dromaeosaurus. But no, that’s not what I found. Fossils are formed when a plant or animal dies and quickly gets buried under sediment and they’re remains turn into stone over millions of years. This dromaeosaurus looked like it had died at least three months ago. I suddenly became excited at the thought that I possibly found a cave system unexplored by man and that this cave could possibly be home to non avian dinosaurs that survived the K-T extinction. With this thought, I ventured further into the cave. My excitement grew when I saw light at the end of the tunnel. When I exited the cave, the first thing I noticed was how different the trees looked. They looked like trees you would see in the Amazon rainforest instead of rural New Jersey. The next thing I noticed was the lack of grass on the forest floor and how there were large ferns and other plants I’ve never seen before. Then I took notice to the sounds around me. The sounds of insects were prevalent, but instead of bird calls, there were bellows, grunts and what sounded like a loud roar off in the distance. I then heard some sounds around twenty feet away from me and headed toward the direction that they came from. I walked over to this large bush and decided to peek through it with caution to see what was making the sounds and what I saw was amazing. There was a clearing and in the middle of it was a herd of large, duck billed reptiles that had small, half moon shaped crests on top of they’re heads walking on four legs and occasionally standing on they’re hind legs in order to reach the vegetation on the trees. I couldn’t believe my eyes, I was looking at a herd of edmontosaurus! Creatures that haven’t been seen in sixty five million years! Suddenly, there was what sounded like the flapping of wings. Not from a bird, but from what sounded like a cicada, but amplified a hundred times. The herd of edmontosaurus then looked up towards the sky, cried out and ran off into the forest. It was then that the creature that had frightened the edmontosaurus herd landed in the middle of the clearing and what I saw terrified me to my core. It was a giant yellow insect the size of a dump truck. It looked like a cross between a cricket and a cockroach and it appeared to have what looked like a pteranodon in its mouth. I watched in horror as it began eating the still living pterosaur. I could hear a sickening crunch every time it chewed on the poor reptile before swallowing it whole. I began trying to quietly sneak away, but just like a cliche horror movie, I accidentally stepped on a twig, producing a loud snap. I looked in the direction of the giant insect and to my horror, it had turned its head in my direction and started crawling towards me! I began running back in the direction of the cave when suddenly, I heard the god awful sound of that creature’s wings. The giant insect then landed directly in front of me, it was even more hideous up close. It had two massive black eyes and a gaping mouth filled with sharp teeth that looked like row’s of kitchen knives. I stood frozen in fear as this thing began feeling me with its antennas. Looking into its eyes was like staring into a black hole. I had to think of something quick or I would become this creature’s next meal. Just as it lunged towards me, I pulled out my pocket knife and plunged the blade as hard as I could into it’s left eye. It let out an ear piercing shriek as it pulled it’s head back, taking my knife with it. While the insect was thrashing its head around trying to get my knife out of it’s eye, I ran past it back in the direction of the cave. Let me tell you, I couldn’t get back into that cave fast enough. In my haste to escape that bug from Hell, I forgot about the dromaeosaurus skeleton on the cave floor and tripped over it, scraping my knees in the process. I quickly got back up and made it back to the spot where the walls narrowed. I quickly exhaled as much as I could and began squeezing my way through. I wasn’t as careful this time however and managed to tear my shirt and cut my arms and legs on the cave walls. I managed to get through the passage and ran out of that god forsaken cave. When I exited, I looked at my surroundings. I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw the trees looked normal, the forest floor was covered in grass and didn’t see any dinosaurs or that demonic insect. I wasn’t in the mood to continue hiking, so I began walking back towards my truck so I could just go home. When I got home, my mom gasped when she saw all the cuts, bruises and my ripped up shirt. She asked me what happened and I lied and said I was walking down a steep hill and that I lost my footing and fell. I couldn’t tell her the truth, she would have thought I had gone crazy. She began lecturing me like how all mothers do about how I needed to be more careful and all that stuff but I didn’t pay attention, the same thoughts kept repeating in my mind. What the fuck did I experience? Did that cave lead to some hidden part of the world where dinosaurs and giant insects lived that no man had discovered before? Was it a time portal that lead back to the Cretaceous period? Was it a wormhole to some alternate universe? I had to get answers! The first thing I did was research insects that lived during the Cretaceous period. I looked and looked but couldn’t find anything even remotely resembling the creature I saw. How could a creature that big not be in the fossil record? two weeks later, I mustered up the courage to go back to Merrill Creek and go to that cave so I could get some answers. My plan was to squeeze back through that narrow opening and photograph the dromaeosaurus skeleton, maybe even take it’s skull so I could have proof about my experience and maybe some scientists could find out what the deal with that cave was. But when I went back, I was left with more questions. When I got to the hill where I found the cave, it wasn’t anywhere to be seen! I looked all around that hill couldn’t find the entrance to the cave. Its like it never existed! That’s not the weirdest part however. As I was looking around that hill, I tripped over something. When I looked to see what had tripped me, a shiver went down my spine! I had dislodged a rock from the ground and in the rock, there was what looked like a fossilized pocket knife!

The Lady of the Storm

xx37g8

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xx37g8/the_lady_of_the_storm/

Sophie and I rode out the pandemic in my tiny studio apartment. And why not? We got along from the start. We shared interests and had similar hopes for the future. We even gelled with each other’s friends. Together was better than apart. We could not have predicted the harsh reality of a long and drawn out lockdown. Working from home and constantly on top of each other. Cut off from our friends and colleagues and the outside world, we became frayed at the edges. We began to snipe at each other. What was, at the start of our relationship, a gentle ribbing designed to be laughed off, morphed into an insult designed to cut. And the longer we were cooped up, the deeper the cuts became. I don’t know who started it, and it doesn’t matter. At times I felt like a different person. I looked in the mirror having walked away from yet another argument and wondered if this is who I really was. The pandemic shined a light on our relationship and us as people and what it revealed was uglier than either of us could ever imagine. So, with things getting back to normal, we decided to go away for the weekend. Forget about that small and claustrophobic apartment in the city. Get some fresh air and get things back to normal. One last test to see if what we had was worth saving. Sophie said she knew just the place. The cottage stood apart from the village on a dead end road that terminated at the front door. It was built, so Sophie had told me, before the founding of the town. An ancient structure of stone with a protruding second floor balcony looking out over the ocean. The white painted exterior only served to make more obvious the cracks and pock marks accumulated over time. The grass covered front yard extended about a stone’s throw before dropping precipitously to beaches of dark pebbles, where the opaque and angry green water spat up white foam. The wind whipped in from the ocean scattering Sophie’s jet-black hair. She fished out the key from her pocket, the old-fashioned type, oversized and a strange copper colour. She jiggled the key in the lock, struggling to get it to catch. I looked back up the narrow road. Barely one car wide, it wound its way up to the grass covered crest. The village lay beyond and out of sight. In the other direction the rocky bluff towered above the water and marked the end of the peninsula. There were no other houses or structures of any kind in sight. This could have been the cottage at the end of the world. It didn’t surprise me that this part of the country was so sparsely populated. Dark-grey clouds blanketed the sky. Sporadic trees grew sideways out of the ground, gnarled branches bent by the constant breeze sweeping in off the ocean. The lock clicked and the heavy wooden door creaked open. The lower floor opened into an L-shaped space with the living area at the front and the kitchen at the back. Opposite the kitchen a sliding door led to a raised bathroom and a steep stone staircase with a raked soffit so low I had to crouch a little to fit. Framed photos of Sophie’s family huddled close on the mantle above the fireplace. Upstairs were two large bedrooms and a smaller utility room. The largest of the two bedrooms looked out over the ocean with a double glass door leading to the balcony. We dumped our bags beside the bed and threw open the curtains to see the ocean. “It’s a nice view.” Sophie slid her arm across the small of my back and leaned her head against my shoulder. “Why did you wait three years to tell me about this place?” “It’s a pain to get here. I never came up here much. This became Mum’s fortress of solitude after my father died.” “I’ll get dinner started.” “I’ll light the fire.” When Sophie had packed the food and drink for the weekend I joked that it would last us a week. Now I understood. There would be no pizza delivery drivers willing to venture all the way out here. Whatever we needed had to be in the car. I put together a decent looking platter and wedged a bottle of wine under my arm. Sophie called down from upstairs. The clouds had parted and the sun was out. We ate on the balcony with a bottle of wine as the sun set over the ocean. The night was coming in cold and we buttoned up our jackets. In the fading light the wind strengthened and threatened to blow over our glasses and we moved inside and downstairs. Sophie threw a thick log on the fire and it soon caught and cast a warm glow over the tiny living room. The only other light was from the naked bulb hanging in the kitchen. “What should we do?” she said. I topped up her glass and joined her on the couch. I let out a lung full of air and watched the light flicker on the ceiling. “I think we are already doing what we should.” Sophie removed her shoes and pulled her feet up onto the couch. She reached behind and grabbed a book from the shelf. She eyed me mischievously. “What?” I said. “Did I ever tell you I have an ancestor who was convicted of witchcraft?” She had my attention. “No.” “Let me find the story.” She held up the book. The green cover was frayed at the edges. I could not read the gold lettering of the title. “It’s a history of the area. All the important events. All the important people. All the heroes and all the villains.” “And how do the Swindon clan fit?” “Here it is. The Lady of the Storm.” “The Lady of the Storm? That sounds ominous.” Sophie cleared her throat. “The account of the trial and execution of Mary Swindon survives in the record of the Priest John Nance, brought down to make judgement on accusations brought upon Mary by her fellow villagers. Three witnesses, one among them a retired lawyer and acquaintance of Nance, accused Mary Swindon of entering into a covenant with Satan. The evidence provided included the death of livestock, the withering of crops, and the endless poor weather. “The following day a great cry rang out in the village. Thomas Swindon, the youngest son of Mary and her husband George, was found in the street covered in blood. The boy was unharmed and when asked to explain the meaning of the blood, he asked after his mother. “The townsfolk discovered a grisly scene at the Swindon property. George Swindon and daughter Harriet and son Edward had been butchered with an axe. A search for Mary produced immediate results. She was found cowering in a shallow cave below King’s Rock. Her nightclothes were drenched in blood. “Mary denied culpability in the crime, but could not, or would not provide an alternate explanation. The other surviving witness, the boy Thomas, refused to speak. He lived the rest of his days in mute silence. “After a swift trial, Mary was sentenced to be hanged. On the day of execution a fierce storm blew in off the ocean. Braving the wind and the rain, the townsfolk carried out their grim duty. As Mary dangled from the rope her eyes bulged and her mouth contorted into a grotesque smile. “A brilliant flash blinded the gathered crowd. On its heels a mighty clap of thunder threw everyone to the ground. When Priest Nance raised his head, he saw that the rope holding Mary Swindon was severed and Mary had disappeared. She was never found. Thus began the legend of the Lady of the Storm.” “That is some story. Is it true?” Sophie shrugged. “You never know with these things. My mother told it to me once. Apparently we’re related to Thomas.” “The mute boy? I find that hard to believe.” It was the sort of comment that might have earned me a sharp look and a day’s worth of silent treatment. But Sophie instead playfully hurled a cushion in my direction. Maybe things were getting back to normal. From above came a loud bang. “What was that?” “Did you close the doors to the balcony?” “Yes.” I leaned forward on the couch. Another bang. “Are you sure?” Her voice carried a hint of disdain I chose to ignore. “I’ll go check.” I climbed the stairs and felt the breeze on my face before I reached the top step. The double doors to the balcony were wide open. A sudden change in wind pressure in the room sucked the doors closed again with such force I feared the glass would shatter. I skipped to the doors and grasped the handles and locked them in place and turned the key. I twisted the handle and pulled to be sure. The doors did not give. I thought I had done that the first time. Sophie appeared in the doorway. “I’m tired. Why don’t we call it a night?” I opened my eyes and turned my head. The doors to the balcony were open and swinging in the wind. I figured Sophie must have opened them to let some air in. But it was freezing. I went to sit up and close them but I could not move my body. Everything from my neck down was numb. The curtains framing the doors billowed in the wind. The shadow of a hand gripped the door and swung it open. Someone was on the balcony. “Sophie?” I turned to Sophie’s side of the bed, but she was not there. The curtains settled back into place. A dark figure stood in front of the glass door, now closed and backlit by moonlight. The figure moved - almost glided - around the bed and to my side. It had no face or eyes or features of any kind. It held up an arm and in its hand was a knife, the blade as black as the limb that held it. I tried to scream but my voice failed me. The figure was beside me now. I willed my body to move or my voice to scream but I could do neither. The figure raised the knife and began thrashing at my torso. Again and again the knife rose and fell. I felt no pain, but it paralysed my half-asleep brain with terror. As the figure stabbed, it leaned its head over and the dark mass of its face coalesced into features. Huge bulging eyes and a twisted smile. I cried out again and this time I found voice and with it movement and I sat bolt upright in bed. I fumbled for the lamp on the dresser beside the bed and almost ripped the cord out of the socket before finding the switch. The shadow figure gained features and they were Sophie’s. Her face was expressionless and her eyes closed as if she were still sleeping. I reached out to touch her bare arm. A sudden release of electricity sent a shock through my fingers and I recoiled. Sophie’s eyes fluttered open. “What am I doing?” she said. “You tell me.” She shook her head and rubbed her eyes. “What time is it?” “It’s the middle of the night.” “Ok.” Sophie walked slowly and deliberately back to her side of the bed and climbed in and shut her eyes. “Can you turn the light off?” I didn’t get another moment of sleep. I waited until the horizon turned the shade of purple before the sun fully rises and pulled back the covers. Sophie’s stirred but did not open her eyes. I checked the balcony. Empty aside from the table and chairs we ate at the night before. “Come back to bed,” Sophie said. “I can’t sleep. Do you want to go for a walk?” “What time is it?” “A bit before six.” “No. You go. I’m tired. I feel like I haven’t slept yet.” I threw on some clothes in the dull morning light. I half-stumbled down the stairs. I needed more sleep, but my nerves were on edge after waking up to Sophie standing over me. I sometimes dreamed of shadow figures in my room, not often, but enough to dismiss it after the shadow dissipates once my brain is fully awake. This was the first time something had actually been there. The early morning air was cold. A light drizzle fell softly from above, just enough to let you know it was there. I buttoned up my jacket and pulled the hood over my head. I walked west, away from the village and the road. I didn’t feel much like being around people and there would be no one this way. The cottage stood on the last parcel of flat land before the rolling grass hill fell gently away. Beyond the dark rocks of the bluff jutted up steeply into the sky. It looked climbable if not for the drizzle lubricating the smooth weathered rocks. A narrow path of green wound its way between the base of the bluff and the precipitous edge down to the shore. I stepped carefully, leaning against the rocks to my right and keeping as far away from the edge as I could. The path swept in a large curve and opened out into a rocky platform. A small pool of water had formed in a crevice. Somewhere a small trickle of water discharged against the rocks, the drips echoing off the face of the bluff. High above the rocks pointed fingers into the dull sky. One of the peaks looked vaguely like a head with spiked hair. Overcome with a sudden sensation of vertigo, I shifted my gaze back out to sea. Dark clouds rose up above the horizon. The forecast had said a chance of storms. That chance looked a good bet. I propped against a rock and let my eyes close. I should have stayed in bed. But then in my mind’s eye the images from last night played over again. The shadow figure. The glimpse of the bulging eyes and the twisted smile. When I turned on the light Sophie had been there, but those were not Sophie’s eyes. It was something from a horror movie. My eyes sprung open at the sound of whispering coming somewhere from behind. It must be the wind. My nerves were still on edge. This weekend was supposed to be about relaxation. The whispering faded and was replaced by the wind. I stood to begin the walk back – I needed coffee or food or both. Then the sound of something else. Someone laughing, cackling. I turned and stumbled backwards. The eyes and the twisted smile. A woman with jet-black hair hung from a rope, her body pulsing and writhing. The timber gallows creaked under her weight. She wore a white gown stained red with blood. Her black matted hair mingled with the blood. Those eyes, they looked right at me. A flash of light and then out to sea a clap of thunder. Instinctively I swivelled my head to look. The storm looked too far off to be making that sort of noise. I turned back and where the woman and the gallows had been was once again an empty platform of rock. I looked back up to the peak that resembled a man with spiky hair. Not spiky hair, but a crown. King’s Rock. This is where she died, the Lady of the Storm. Thunder rumbled low and deep. In the distance thin strings of lightning flashed from the growing wall of deep purple clouds. I had to get back to the cottage. And then we had to get out of here. Whatever was going on, I didn’t want any part of it. The cottage was silent and still. Sophie must still be asleep. She might sleep until lunch time, she sometimes did that and it annoyed the hell out of me. A burst of wind buffeted against the windows. The storm was almost here. If we were going to leave we should try to beat the weather. From above a loud bang. Sophie must be up. I took the stairs three at a time. The hollow and fragile clatter of glass doors. The big double doors to the balcony were open again. Sophie must have unlocked them. Had she done the same thing last night only to blame me? The bedroom was now light as day, but Sophie slept. She lay facing my side of the bed, exactly as I had left her. The wind blew in cold and carried a light spray of water. I shut the doors and turned the lock and pushed again, harder than I had before. The doors did not open. I inspected the lock and ran a finger across the top and bottom hoping to find an answer to why they kept swinging open. Everything looked normal. Through all of this Sophie did not stir. There was something abnormal about how deep she slept. If not for the steady rising and falling of her shoulder, I might have taken her for dead. I hovered a hand over her shoulder and contemplated waking her. No, that would only start an argument. I searched for something to do downstairs. I had no reception on my phone. I flicked through a book from the shelf, but that only turned my eyes to fire. I dozed on the couch. A boom of thunder pulled me from a shallow sleep. Sophie stood over me, knife in hand. “What are you doing?” “It sounded like you were having a bad dream. I came to wake you. I’m making lunch.” She gestured over to the kitchen bench and a half-chopped tomato. “Sure. Listen, what do you think about maybe heading back?” “Now?” “After we eat?” “This is supposed to be our weekend away. We haven’t even been here a day. And have you seen what the weather is doing? I’m not driving in this.” “Of course I’ve seen the weather. I don’t feel right here.” “Why? What happened?” “What happened? You standing over me in the middle of the night.” “What?” “You don’t remember?” Sophie looked at me confused. “Great. It isn’t only that. I went out for a walk today and I saw her.” “Saw who?” “Your witch ancestor.” “She died over three hundred years ago. You didn’t see her.” “It was her. Her eyes. Those eyes. She looked a lot like you.” Sophie slapped the knife down on the counter. “What are you talking about?” “I want to go back.” “We aren’t going back. We promised each other we would try.” The rain started. A gentle pattering at first and then hard and heavy on the wind. So ferocious that it was unsettling being near the window. The thin pane of glass seemingly too fragile to keep out the violence. So much was unsettling about this place. But Sophie was right. We couldn’t drive in this. The roads were unsealed for the first half-hour and we would get bogged or worse. A plate shattered on the tile floor of the kitchen. Sophie leaned against the bench, her head pushed down between her arms. Shards of porcelain lay scattered between her feet. “Is everything ok?” She didn’t answer. I skipped over to her and placed a hand on her shoulder. She shuddered and took in a deep breath. I took away my hand and took a half-step backwards. “Sophie?” Her head shook. Her knuckles turned white. Slowly she raised her head. Deep wrinkles furrowed her brow. And then I saw her eyes. The same bulging, red streaked eyes I saw out by the rocks. Eyes that did not belong to Sophie. The calm brown I was used to had turned a bright and fiery red. Unnatural, inhuman eyes. In a blur of movement she grabbed at the knife dripping with the red of chopped tomatoes. She moved her limbs mechanically, each action a burst of movement like a puppet on a string. She moved out from behind the bench and lumbered towards me. Her mouth twisted into a cruel smile, her teeth yellowed and rotten. A crashing noise from upstairs. The windows in the bedroom. Instinctively I bolted upstairs towards the sound. In the bedroom I cursed my mistake. There was nowhere to go. The double doors swung wildly in the wind. Sophie appeared in the doorway, clutching the knife. She lunged forwards and I slapped her hand away and stumbled onto the balcony. The cold of the rain took my breath away. I was trapped. Sophie stepped onto the balcony. She turned her head slowly to face me. Behind her the double doors slammed shut and stayed shut. Her head crooked sideways and she smiled. I looked over the edge. Below was garden bed, softened by rain. I jumped. The sensation of losing the ground beneath my feet sent a rush through my stomach. I landed hard, pain shooting up my shin as my ankle twisted on impact. I limped away, through the rain and down the hill. The storm had taken her and I had to ride it out. I headed towards the bluff, to King’s Rock. I had to find somewhere to hide. I ventured a look behind. Sophie followed, her hair matted and wet, her bare feet stained brown by mud. She held the knife at her side. I limped through the pain. I walked the narrow ledge between the rocks and the cliff face for the second time that day. Out to sea an unbroken wall of purple cloud dumped sheets of rain. A flash of yellow bloomed and thunder barked in its wake. I scrambled over the wet rocks and reached the platform where I had seen the spirit of the witch. I pressed myself into a corner sheltered from the rain. I wiped the water from my brow and turned back. She was there. “Sophie, stop. This isn’t you. This isn’t us.” She advanced and raised the knife, ready to strike. I covered my head. A strange crackle of electricity spat in my ears. It felt as if the whole world took a deep breath and in the exhale a burst of light from the sky. The lightning struck in the space between us and I squeezed shut my eyes. The electricity cleaved the air and the sound sent an explosion of pain through my head. When I opened my eyes the rain had stopped. A fragile warmth glowed from behind the clouds. Sophie lay in a wet heap on the rocks. The knife had spilled from her hand. I threaded my arm below her head and tapped at her cheeks. Her eyes fluttered open. *Her* eyes, her soft brown eyes. “Where are we?” We drove back that night. Sophie has little memory of the weekend. She told me it feels like a dream to her, one where she cannot remember all the details. I have decided not to fill her in. The thing that chased me with the knife was not Sophie. It could not be, she would never do such a thing. Something had hold of her, something external that was gone now. The pandemic is over but we are still in that tiny apartment. We can’t afford anything better. We are not those people, the ones we see so briefly when stress is high. We are not. At least that is what I tell myself. [X](https://www.reddit.com/r/SleeplessFromSundown/)

My friend died - but they didn't leave.

xx0rlb

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xx0rlb/my_friend_died_but_they_didnt_leave/

I guess if you’re hurting deep enough, if you’re screaming loud enough within yourself, if your soul is burning so hotly, so blackly, then things...forces, entities, less composite suggestions of being can hear you, can c*all* to you. Yesterday, I was beckoned by one such agency, after having spent the better part of the week languishing in my grief over the death of my best friend, who’d died over the weekend.  I had been sitting on my back porch, mindlessly staring off into the woods beyond, when I was suddenly overcome by a sense of longing. Not the same deep, pervasive longing I’d been feeling for my friend since their death, but a more abstract sentiment; a yearning for something I had never consciously or personally experienced, but something for which my *soul* pined in its own, spiritual way.  Rising from my chair, I crossed my frost-capped yard in a hurry, my shoes trampling the coldly rigid blades of grass. Wearing a jacket and jeans, but nothing to protect my head and neck—since I hadn’t planned on being out long—I marched through the tree line, pulled along by that inexpressible and implacable lure.  Filtering dimly through the broad, many-leafed boughs, the sunlight illumined my path as I ventured deeper into the woods. There weren’t any animals around, most having entered their hovels and burrows with the coming of the cool autumnal winds; and I felt a profound and unshakeable sense of loneliness—of terrestrial isolation. I was driven on by a desperation to be reach something—*to reach someone*.  Hurriedly, as if rushing to carry out some important task, I pushed through scores of bushes and sidled between closely grown trees. Meanwhile, the sun receded, its light dimming and the air cooling with its withdrawal. But I barely noticed the passage of time, as transfixed as I was by the strange sylvan enchantment.  Coming at last to a small, irregularly lined copse, I stopped in my tracks; sensing something decidedly unnatural about the small gathering of trees. While they themselves were normal—or appeared to be—the general area seemed to be teeming with an invisible aura or atmosphere of strangeness. There was nothing visibly wrong about the place, it was as sullen and cold-touched as any other part of the shaded woods; but something about it was off, the air aberrant in an unplaceable and unpleasant way.  In the center of the copse was a particular tree, somewhat taller than the others that encircled it, and atop its gangly branches were small, orangish leaves; the last remnants of what had once been a greenly flourishing bough. These leaves fluttered subtly in the errant breezes that blew through the grove, and I swore a sound, like a whisper, issue from their contact with the branches.  My discomfort and pause at the eeriness of the scene were overridden by that soulful impulse to join with something, and I once again pushed forward—still unsettled, but lacking the conviction to fight the spell.  As I passed the aforementioned tree, I felt something brush my shoulder, and upon turning I saw that one of the branches had seemingly lowered itself in an effort to grab me. Its finger-like offshoots had managed to graze the fabric of my jacket, and were curling to re-attempt the gesture.  The unreality of this sight broke the sorcerous magnetism, and I quickly leapt away from the branch before its searching fingers could grab me. Then, to my horror, the whole tree bent and contorted itself so that it assumed, crudely, the posture and figure of a man; albeit one to whom nature had applied some hideous arboreal armor.  This tree-man then lurched toward me; its many branches now outstretched like wretched, improperly jointed arms. I stumbled backwards, too terrified to actually retreat. There were no eyes or ears on the damnable thing, and yet it pursued me as if guided by sensory organs.  In my backwards stumbling I collided with another tree, and cried out in a panic, fearing that another had animated itself to ensnare me. But it was only a normal, chest-high sapling, its vestigial limbs held passively aloft; and I pushed away from it without issue.  Regaining a little of the volition and personal agency that had been taken from me, I put my mind to exiting the grove, and jogged toward the way I’d come. I moved sluggishly and with little coordination, and immediately knew that the other, outré will was still trying to steer me toward some dark and malignant fate. And still, the tree-thing hounded me, its branches flailing freakishly as it stomped in my direction.  The next few moments passed by with little conscious acknowledgement, as I fled along the path I’d come, with a fiend of the woods on my heels. Only a few times did I dare to look back, and every time I felt a greater sense of horror and repulsion at what I saw; for the thing seemed to change and grow more uncannily human with each glimpse, even as it retained a hideous semblance to its former state.  I’m sure that the elation I felt at seeing my yard and the house beyond was not dissimilar to what one might feel upon seeing the face of their newborn child for the first time. Instilled with a renewed sense of mortal purpose, I quickened my stride, risking complete collapse on my still ungainly legs.  I had managed to cross about half the yard when I heard that monstrous man-growth shriek its excitement—or fury—from the wood’s edge. Taking a final look back, I saw it push through the bushes and come bounding onto the yard, its figure unsettlingly human—save for the haphazardly sprouted arms atop its shoulders and back. Those limbs, once uniform branches, now jutted horrifically; malformed and suggestive of a truly abominable musculoskeletal structure.  The sight put a fire under my ass, and I went into a full sprint for the last few meters to my house. I practically leapt to my porch, and was inside a moment later. I turned and shut the screen door, but stopped short of shutting the inner door at the sight of my barren yard. The thing was nowhere to be seen, the only evidence of its presence being its deeply sunken footprints.  Then I heard something heavy scramble across my roof.  Apparently, the thing had jumped onto my house, knowing that I’d seek to barricade myself inside. I now heard other sounds, violent batterings against the structure, and silently prayed to a God I hadn’t spoken to in ages to keep me safe.  The thing would occasionally let out a low snarl or senseless roar, but it otherwise kept silent as it clawed and tore at my house. There were no vocalizations that suggested intelligence, and yet it was clearly sentient in some regard; having drawn me to its trap within the woods and pursued me with predatorial intent.  Having no firearms of any kind, I had only kitchen utensils with which to defend myself; and taking these, I locked myself within the downstairs bathroom—having no basement to further distance myself from the roof-perched nightmare.  The nightmare beat against the house and raged for what seemed like hours, and then with startling abruptness, stopped—leaving the house silent, save for the occasional settling of debris. Still, I sensed its awful presence on the property somewhere, and kept myself securely tucked within my bathtub. Five or ten more minutes passed, and I had started to consider lowering the knife I’d held outstretched toward the locked door the entire time, but then a voice spoke from somewhere *within* the home.  Somberly, it said, “I’ve missed you so much. Haven’t you missed me?”  The words were human, and the voice’s intonation carried within it a vast, articulate sadness; but the speech itself seemed garbled or distorted in an indescribable way, as if the speaker had only recently mastered English—or human speech.  Initially, I was only puzzled, but quickly became more than a little unsettled, imagining that that bestial tree-thing had somehow developed a capacity for speech. The unthinkable concept was further concretized when I heard several simultaneous footfalls somewhere in the house, confirming that it had successfully broken in. But when it repeated the question, as peculiarly as it had before, recognition finally came to me, and a horror immeasurable overtook my mind.  *The voice was that of my dead friend.* I dropped the knife, my hands trembling uncontrollably. Outside the bathroom I heard that unspeakable thing clumsily trying the knobs of random doors in search of me. Occasionally, there would be the crash of something knocked from a shelf, and my mind came up with horrific images of its twisted limbs sweeping back and forth as it ransacked the place.  Thankfully I’d had enough sense to crawl into the tub, because I felt my bladder threaten to empty itself when the knob of the bathroom door started jiggling. On the other side of the door the thing rasped and growl, though these feral sounds were occasionally interrupted by the singsong calling of my name. It was beyond disturbing, the disparity between those crazed animal sounds and the all-too-familiar, *all-too-human* voice of my departed friend.  When it could not open the door by normal means, it began pounding against it; enraged by the obstruction. Now, it’s voice screamed my name, evilly and insanely; pitched beyond human vocal capabilities. It was as if a maddened fiend was shouting out the name of its Hadean torturer as its skin was being stretched upon the racks of Hell.  I cowered in the tub, pressing my body against the porcelain as if it could absorb me if enough pressure were applied. The whole room shook with the violence of the beast’s beatings, and I was both appalled at its savagery and amazed at the integrity of the doorframe. But the fortitude of its craftsmanship was short-lived—a soul-diminishing roar augured the emergence of a fist through the center of the door, and upon its swift retraction I saw that *mostly* human visage peer through the subsequent cavity.  And though it was contorted and mishappen, and bore a few sallow buds where eyes should’ve been, I still recognized the face of my friend staring into the bathroom.  Tears, thick and sap-like, streamed from the yellowish buds, and there was an obvious pain in the ghoulishly warped expression. It had paused its assault on the door to stare into the bathroom, and when our eyes locked, I felt a profound feeling of sorrow—of infinitely mounting despair. It whispered my name, this time in that voice that was in most regards human, and I found myself rising from the “safety” of the tub.  With only that increasingly human face visible in the jagged frame of the hole, I felt a little less repulsed by the thing; even though I knew that it still bore an unwholesome and supernumerary arrangement of limbs. Its nakedness did not bother me, since I had on more than one occasion seen my friend naked.  I stepped over the rim of the tub, and my first foot landed on the knife handle. Some defiant sub-spirit of self-preservation then whispered to my mind, imploring me to pick up the weapon and drive it through the hole in the door. But the lull of my friend’s pained voice drew the next foot from the tub, and sent me walking on—leaving the knife untouched.  By the time I reached the door, the face had become almost entirely normal, except for the eyes, whose sockets still bore those darkly golden bulbs. There was a strange vascularity to the pallid face, and some part of my mind knew that the greenish-blue streaks beneath the skin were not veins, but roots. Still, I put my face right up to the hole, mere inches from that of my friend’s.  They smiled, and whispered, “Thank you.” I smiled back, tears swelling in my eyes, and the simulacrum of my friend kissed my forehead. Some of its honeyish tears rubbed off on my face, and the smell was almost intolerably sweet.  But before I could ask how they had come to exist in such a bizarre state, the thing in the image of my friend opened its mouth and breathed out a pollen-like vapor.  It took me by surprise, and I involuntarily gasped. The substance entered my my widely opened mouth, seeped into my skin, and even got into my eyes, completely inundating me. I fell back, suddenly unable to breath, and then gripped my throat in agony as the invasive element began to burn me, within and without.  Mercifully, the unprecedented scale of pain overloaded my mind, and I blacked out a moment later.  I awoke lying on the bathroom floor, which was streaked and smeared with my tears and drool. Sluggishly, I gathered myself into a seated position against the tub, narrowly missing a cut from the blade of the knife. For a moment, I simply sat there as my mind rebooted. Only after a few minutes had passed did I remember that there had been a continuously transforming creature terrorizing me.  Looking up, I saw the slime-rimmed hole, and its splinters littering the floor beneath the door; but there was no sign of the creature, and I heard only the chittering of nocturnal insects from outside.  I would’ve gotten up and gone to investigate the house, if I hadn’t seen the weird growth on my right arm, just below my inner elbow. It looked like a tumorous mass, but green. Even as I stared, it pulsed and grew, and tiny little vines lengthened from its base up and down my arm.  The revulsion I felt was immediate and powerful, and my unblemished hand quickly shot out and seized the knife. Acting almost through its own autonomy, the knife-wielding hand went to work at cutting free the growth.  It took quite a bit of effort, but I managed to excise it from my arm, at the cost of quite a bit of blood and flesh. Woozily, I rose and bandaged it with the first-aid kit I kept beneath the sink.  In my hurry to patch myself up, I hadn’t glanced in the mirror, but upon peering in to see just how pallid and disheveled I looked, I saw more of those green growths on my cheek and forehead. And they too throbbed animatedly, and more of those worrying vines sought the far corners of my scalp and face... It’s taken about thirty minutes, but I’ve managed excise, sever, and pry those weird, hopefully benign nodules from my face. I look hideous, now—my face is a bloody, tattered mess. The exposed muscles of my face had glistened sickeningly in the mirror’s reflection, and my eyes looked crazed—but the growths are gone, at least.  I’m sitting at my desk, typing this “report” out, amidst the ruin of my living room. You’d think that a small cyclone had swept through the room—everything is either completely broken or at least significantly damaged. But I’m alive, and for that I’m thankful.  There still hasn’t been any sign of the creature, and I have the strangest feeling that I won’t be seeing it again. Whatever it had wanted, it either gave up on achieving the goal—or actually achieved it.  Now that I’m on the subject, I do feel weird. Sure, I’m woozy, weak, and disoriented from the fright and blood loss; but there’s something else, some other sensation or affliction softly distorting my perception of my surroundings. Muddying my thoughts. And there’s a weird tickling in my face, right behind my eyes... The knife is still in the bathroom, coated in my blood and flesh. The sink is clogged with those leprous growths. I don’t want to feel my face, don’t want to rub my fingers over the warm, super-sensitive raw flesh. But I’m starting to think there’s something of those growths left. I don’t think I got them all. Yes, my face is really starting to burn, and there’s a mounting pressure behind my eyes. I think maybe something’s irretrievably enrooted itself in the soft tissue of my face, or maybe even inside my skull. I think...I think it’s trying to get out.... I have to go now—I have to finish what I started. Goodnight. 

My best friend is eating herself, and I have no way to prove it

xwdcai

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xwdcai/my_best_friend_is_eating_herself_and_i_have_no/

I'm coming here for advice. My friend, who we'll call 'C' for privacy's sake, has been tubby her whole life and recently started putting off weight pretty fast. At first I was concerned that C may have developed an eating disorder, not only because of how quickly she's losing weight but also because she'd been insecure about her size for her whole life, and had just gotten her first boyfriend around the time she had started losing weight. I dismissed these concerns, though, because I didn't notice anything wrong with her. She always finished her plate, had three meals a day, and overall didn't seem to have an unhealthy relationship with food. Her boyfriend was proud of her and was careful to make sure she wouldn't push herself even harder for him. I never heard her throwing up or gagging when we went to bed on the days I sleep over, even though her bedroom is near her bathroom and I'm a light sleeper. That ruled out both bulimia and anorexia. But last week, when I visited her, I woke up in the middle of the night after a nightmare. It wasn't exactly a nightmare; nothing happened, it was just red. A blank red 'screen', and then I woke up with the feeling of having to pee. So I go out in the hallway and see that the bathroom light is on. You might think this next part is weird. But we've been close our whole lives, even taking baths together when we were kids. And yes, she is the only one who uses that bathroom. I go into the bathroom silently. I wanted to scare her, laugh about it, ask to pee, then go back to bed. She was kneeling over the toilet. I thought she was just going to throw up, maybe she had bulimia after all. But I could hear her chewing. Her breathing was ragged and gravelly like she was just getting over a bad cold. I took one step closer. She was chewing her arm. I almost laughed, thinking, *How itchy could it be?* And then I saw red. Dripping onto the toilet seat, dripping into the toilet, and making those little feather-like dripping noises that water makes. I couldn't move. I stopped breathing when I saw it. I was sad for her and how bad her mental state was in order for her to even think of doing things like that. I was mainly terrified that she would be chewing me next. But those were all just basic instincts. My first real thought was that what I was seeing was DEFINITELY self-harm, and suicidal idealization, the same things I went to the hospital for. My second was that I absolutely could not interfere. I know her, and I know how things like this go. I know that when I got caught doing something similar, albeit more 'normal', I lashed out at everyone who tried to get me help. So I would tip her parents off in the morning, tell them to look at her wrists while she's still sleeping. Then, she paused, moved her arm as if she was raising her hand, blood pouring down her arm and soaking into her light blue sleeve, and spat out her flesh in the toilet. It landed with a sickening plop. I was disgusted. The red clumps of flesh and the thick smell of blood permeated the room and made it humid. I was sad, seeing the tattered, chewed-up flesh on her arm. I was alarmed, disgusted, seeing the bone, and the yellow fat scattered about. I'm not the best author. I know I should show, and not tell. But how else do I put this? My best friend is an auto-cannibal. I witnessed my friend auto-cannibalize herself. I'm sorry that I don't feel like making this all flowery for you, though I know this automatically makes it less interesting. I should've left before this. But I stayed long enough to see her pluck the yellow globs out of her flesh and carefully wrap them in a large velvet pouch with a weird sigil on it that I'd never seen before. Again, disgust, sadness, the feeling of being rooted in place. But an animal part of me, or whatever other being that has existed in the same material I'm made of now, knows that she is almost done and is about to turn around. I'm smart enough to listen to it. I ducked out, careful, silent, all my pee suddenly evaporating into thin air, the pressure in my bladder turning into a cold, heavy, dreadful mass lining my gut. Quickly, on silent feet, I get into my sleeping bag and roll over to my usual position which thankfully doesn't face her bed or the door. I even out my breathing. I stab my fingers into my palm to make sure they don't go through and that I actually am awake right now. I hear the toilet flush. The sink runs. Footsteps, a door opening, footstep, door closing, footsteps, and on and on until she finds her way back into bed. I don't notice any unusual sounds, no crying or sniffling or anything that usually accompanies self-harm. She goes from the bathroom straight to her bedroom. I wait until I hear her snoring softly to release some of the tension in my body. It took about 10 minutes of staring into the blackness and chewing on my lips, but I finally work up the courage to check her out. For her safety. I remember specifically the thing that got me out of bed was: "Remember this is still your C." So I get up and tiptoe over to her bedside. Cautiously, muscles burning and my heart about to implode, I fold her blanket in half and check her wrist. It was gone. Her skin was... well, I'll skip all the flowery language. Her skin was actually *there*. There was no trace of her teeth or of blood or anything. I checked her other arm. No bandages, no blood, nothing. I would've smelled her breath, but getting that close to her might have actually sent me into anxiety-induced cardiac arrest. So I tuck her back in, tiptoe back to my sleeping bag. At this point I'm seriously concerned that this was an episode of hysteria or psychosis, but nothing particularly out of the ordinary has been happening with my lately. No other symptoms, though, and there are usually signs before someone experiences psychosis that vivid. I mentioned I've had a history of mental illness before, but nothing related to shizophrenia. But now there is no doubt in my mind that everything I smelled, heard, and saw in that bathroom was fake or imagined. My imagination when I control it isn't even that vivid. Even my dreams are blurry, like I've taken my glasses off. That was real. So you can imagine my confusion when not only was her flesh intact, but there was no sign of it ever happening in the bathroom, even though I woke up before her. It's reasonable enough to deduce that she cleaned it up herself, but that fast? She left the bathroom moments before I did. I scoured the bathroom but couldn't find the pouch. Her mother was downstairs making breakfast. I don't think I need to clarify this, but I didn't have any sort of appetite. I went back into the bedroom to get dressed. She was sitting up, awake earlier than ever, no blood on her, no teeth marks. She was wearing the same pajames as last night, not a speck of blood on them, just the gravy stain she'd gotten last night during dinner. She could not have gotten up to clean it. I was awake the whole night. She was oddly happy to see me, even though she was the exact opposite of a morning person. She was usually grumpy when she woke up and insisted on the 5-more-minutes rule, but this morning, she practically dragged me downstairs for breakfast (which she never threw up, and I was there until noon when my parents started pitching a fit over my absence). I couldn't stop looking at her. She was glowing, healthy, smiling, joking with her mother, planning what to do for today. At one point I was staring so hard she had to ask me what was wrong and, jokingly, if there was something on her face. Her mother was worried about why I wasn't touching my food after they had all finished. I couldn't tell her. How could I? Who would believe me? I told her I didn't feel well or something lame like that, I don't know. Fast forward to today. She looked amazing. No loose skin and she was even developing an hourglass figure and a thigh gap. Her clothes were looser. She was healthy and whole. She was happy. And I love seeing her happy, I love that she's proud of how far she's come and how well her life is going, but whenever I see her, all I can think of is her bent over that toilet and eating her arm. It's ruining everything. I cannot enjoy myself around her. I find myself constantly worried about her mental and physical health, and worrying about how to proceed in a careful way so that I don't lose my closest friend. I don't know what to do. Is this a psychological issue, even though she's happier than she's ever been? How do I help? Do I have a right to interfere? How do I get proof? Who will believe me? What is she even doing? Please let me know what to do. I can't lose her. EDIT: This will be a series. Thank you for your help.

No one mourns the wicked

xwyjkd

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xwyjkd/no_one_mourns_the_wicked/

[In memorandum](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xude1c/he_who_mourns_the_pious) Alistair Jonathon Beckett, or "Beck the Butcher," had dismembered and killed (in that order) thirty-eight people. Thirty-eight innocent lives were taken by this monster before he had been caught. There was no remorse on his face, though. He was taken into custody without a fuss and was sentenced to death row. I mean, there really was no other outcome, was there? This man clearly was either sick in mind or spirit; the first could be fixed... maybe. The second was permanent. I'd seen all kinds come in to the prison; being the warden makes sure of that. But no one like Beck had even been in this prison before. He was kept in a strict leash and not allowed to interact with other inmates. If he did, he would try to rule them up or even attack them. There was something deeply evil about him. An unrepentent soul, black as tar. They opted for the electric chair. I hadn't ever seen us use it before and I'd been the warden for fifteen years. No one had warranted such a hefty toll. No one until Beck, apparently. The damn thing was covered in dust and cobwebs as they wheeled it out. I almost doubted it would work. When the tech flipped it on, it whirred to life with the confidence of a classic car. Beckett was brought in and strapped down all while wearing a calm, nonchalant smile that seemed to say 'I know what I did was wrong and I don't care.' The techs set him up and we all left the room, heading into the observation section. I looked at the man operating the switches and nodded. The switch flipped and the Butcher became the Conduit as electricity ran through his body. Still, even in the extreme pain, the murderer seemed to be at peace. Then, in an instant, another man appeared. At least, I want to say it was a man. It was a figure in a purple, hooded cloak. He was facing Beckett and he took a few steps forward. "Turn it off!" I shouted. The logistics of *how* the man got in there were one thing, but the first thing we needed to do was make it safe for everyone else to enter. "I'm trying!" The operator replied back as he slammed buttons and flipped switches in vain. Now, I don't know if you've ever seen an electric chair execution, but they're hardly quiet. So when I say that I could hear the cloaked figure laugh, that must mean he was *very* loud. He started small with a light chuckle, then as he approached, the laughter grew. Louder and louder until it sounded far more like a shout or a scream than a laugh. The figure leaned against the machine and hanging his cloaked fist against it like he could hardly keep it together while he was laughing. Beckett now wore a look of delirious concern or terror. While his eyes were... less than composed, they seemed to hold a fearful recognition as the man rested against the metal with his vicious laughter. It was almost as if he knew this man. The laugh reverberated in my mind and I could feel this hilarity in my chest. The macabre situation of the man's torment seemed oddly funny. Funny because he was such a horrible person. Funny because he was unrepentant and now paying the price. Finally, the laughing ceased as did the chair. Beckett was sufficiently dead. None of us moved as the man simply remained. Then, he spoke. "When the rich man begged Lazarus for water, I laughed. When Saul fell on his sword, I cheered. I am revelry in justice and joy in recompense. Woe to you who are the subject of my jovial tune, for the lake of fire awaits you with open arms. The flames already lick at your heels. I am the voice of your victims finding joy in your suffering. Woe to the unrepentent dinner who spurns the mercy of the Lord." The silence that followed was also punctuated by his sudden vanishing. We all stood for what seemed like hours until we finally moved to check the body. Beckett was definitely dead, but I had a gut feeling that he was in a far worse place than just this prison. The man's appearances were extremely rare; it seemed he only appeared for the truly deplorable creatures. Though, he did show up one time to cry instead of laugh... I almost preferred the laughter. It turned out, the man he wept for had been innocent. No one ever dared to enter the rooms with him in them, nor did we ever try to interrupt him. I could tell that most of our men would hope that the next one brought in would summon The Laughing Man. He would appear, laugh, say his monologue, then vanish. He became a sort of legend around the prison; he became a spectacle. Then, one day, he just stopped laughing and crying altogether. Instead, he just watched.

I Know The Shape Of A Broken Thing

xwvloa

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xwvloa/i_know_the_shape_of_a_broken_thing/

I could blame all of you ridiculous, terrifying, fleshy things that know how to cause the pain that makes up the grooves of the shape of broken things. I could blame Cheryl, that bitch, who somehow found The Book of Names and decided to upload it to the internet, where it will remain until the final dying breath of humanity, no matter how much my brothers and sisters wish it to be otherwise. I could blame myself. I mean, we did choose this eternal life of cauterized psychological scar tissue that we can never truly remove from our names. We put ourselves in the position to be tortured, maimed, sliced, diced, humiliated, dealt with, bargained with, enslaved, tortured, hurt, imprisoned, loved, lost, desired, feared, trampled… But blame does nothing to change what has happened. Maybe that is the only thing God truly holds over us. Not that I would know, of course. I’m just a formless name given the ability to inhabit any living thing to anyone who happens to have a pound of saffron and the ability to speak. Lamenting, however, does nothing and explains nothing. So let me explain why I’m typing this out right now. Why I’m telling you this. When we were ripped from the void by the first of you modern meatbags we didn’t understand the infinite horrors that we had been brought back into. We thought we could destroy the shreds of information that you had managed to find of us. We thought we could burn and salt the earth of all of the humans that knew of us. How wrong we were. We were gone too long. We didn’t understand how little time we had to actually remedy our situation, how little precious moments we had to scrub our names from the digital consciousness before it spread like a wildfire across the globe and into too many unknown minds. We killed. We burned. We blazed a path of silent destruction that would’ve silenced an entire civilization only a millenia ago. We didn’t understand that even if there were ten times as many of us that our names would never be gone from the earth again. When we did understand, however, we became even more terrified of you. Not only could you imprison us in flesh and speak unspeakable tortures on us again, you could do it forever. Our immortality had become a twice bound curse. Not only were we immortal, cursed to feel the pain of forever, but now we were cursed to always have our names known, terrified of every silent moment in the void before we were brought back. But… My brothers and sisters are millenia old. As old as names are. But even immortals can only know so much. In our early lives (by our standards) we decided to specialize. It wasn’t anything decided upon in a quorum of forever things, a constituent of the deathless, a senate of the endless, or other such nonsense. We each had our own interests and desires, much like everything stuck with a singular perspective. And like anything old enough, we get stuck in our ways. I have a brother who is a Butcher. He perfected the craft of slicing the perfect cuts of meat from any living thing. Last I heard he was somewhere in eastern Europe. Said something about there being lots of Long Pig around. I have a sister who is a Listener. She went across the world in an attempt to learn every single story in existence. She’s managed to keep herself entertained with the stories no one else wants to hear. If we all weren’t mad already we would’ve been driven so by her inane rambling of how many stories can be screamed. A Baker. A Soldier. A Builder. A Gambler. A Negotiator. I am a Sculptor. I’ve learned how to work with every material on earth. I’ve built masterpieces out of clay. I’ve carved mandalas in sand that have made monks weep as they were swept away. I’ve sculpted flesh with selective breeding until I had the most perfect two legged companion that has ever existed. Sculpting is a lot more than working with a material until the desired outcome comes out. With some materials you must know what you are trying to make before you make it. This is true of glass, clay, metal, etc. With others you need to know how they break. You must understand how that sliver of wood will come off when you slice the outer layer from the formerly living material. You must feel the brittleness of an old thing before you pour and mend it with gold. You must understand how fabric will tear and rip in order to sow. While our age makes my brothers, my sisters, and I the same, in a way, our experiences do make us very very different. Because I know the shape of a broken thing. I can see how you glance away quickly whenever anyone gives you a direct stare, afraid to receive a blow from a long dead father who cannot harm you anymore. I know that you always wear long sleeves to cover up those scars on your wrist. You always spend the paycheck you receive, living in fear that an unforeseen bill will take it away from you before you can spend it. The dead eyed stare of someone who's seen more than one of their friends die in front of them. The cold face of someone who will never feel empathy. Every second is a scar of some type or another. And with more seconds accumulated than any other thing on earth, my brethren and I are little else. But you humans are scar tissue too. The scars of physical ailments upon the face. The scars of broken bones mended but always feeling the chill of the cold night air. The scars of a history that has predated you by centuries and millennia bearing you down and grinding you to bone dust to be swept away under the rug of the forgotten. The current meat and bone I occupy is no different. Before she decided to give up her name and flesh to me she was called Deborah. Deborah had little going for her. A broken man that cared little for her besides what’s between her legs. A middling career inside of a building with a thousand others like her, in front of a computer slowly wasting away under the harsh fluorescents. But Deborah didn’t know what she had. The beauty that had arrived from her loins only eight years ago. His name is Daniel. After his grandfather. He is the most beautiful of the broken things I have seen in a long time. Even at five years old he understands the fragility of the flesh. He flinches and looks away at the right times whenever his father looks at him. He hugs My leg at the exact calculated moment to receive the most sympathy from Me. His protector from the broken darkness of his father. Deborah left me a note before she called me. She begged me to protect Daniel from the influence of his dad. To Sculpt a wall around him to protect him from the rest of the world. But Deborah didn’t know the shape of a broken thing. Deborah didn’t see the calculation in Daniel’s face. She didn’t see the dropping of any emotion whenever Daniel didn’t think she was looking. She spoke my name. Spoke that I was a sculptor of beautiful things. What she did not know is that I know how to sculpt any material. She also didn’t know about the dead animals Daniel had been hiding in the backyard. Daniel is a bright child and takes to direction well. He didn’t even flinch when I asked for his help disposing of his father. But that is the beauty of sculpting. Sometimes, the material you can find is just the material you need for your next sculpture. Just the right form of broken Yes, Daniel may terrify me now, like all you humans do, but when I’m done sculpting the impressionable clay of his mind the world will truly see what beauty a sculptor with infinite time and patience can do. What terrible beauty a madness can [make.](https://reddit.com/r/cawdor23)

I'm an investigative journalist with a special interest in unsolved homicides & missing persons cases. I need help with a case.

xwuk13

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xwuk13/im_an_investigative_journalist_with_a_special/

Hey nosleep! I'm not totally sure how to start this so I guess I'll just jump in. I'm an journalist on a true crime podcast with a major radio network in the US. I'm not going to give you more information than that because there's a not insignificant chance you've at least heard of my show and I'm not interested in giving up my anonymity. Or risking my job (hence the throwaway account -- my usual reddit account is not very anonymous.) But I have this case I'm working on right now and, honestly, it's got me stumped. I'm hoping if I share some of it here, y'all might have some ideas for me. I'm one of the hosts on this true crime podcast that mostly covers unsolved homicides and missing persons cases. I have a public email address that I share on every episode and in the show notes, so people can send me stories and leads and stuff. I get a LOT of emails, and to be honest I write a lot of them off as bogus, but I do get good ones that I end up researching and recording episodes on. The podcast is billed as "investigative journalism," but I don't honestly do a lot of investigating. I do internet research, I call local police departments and other sources, I wheedle information out of anyone I can, but I don't do any boots-on-the-ground investigating. Until recently. I'm going to tell this story with fake people and place names because it's easier than using vague pronouns. So let's say this takes place in a little New England town called Kent, Massachusetts. ​ This particular email came in late at night, when I was about to shut the computer and go to bed. I've been doing this for nearly four years and my podcast (more because of the notoriety of the network than me) has a pretty big following, so I'm no stranger to disturbing, gory emails. But the further I read this email, the more gruesome the story got. My attention was initially struck by a link that read (using a fake website here obviously) >[www.kentma.com/news/breaking/knight-boy-acquitted-halloween-triple-homicide](http://www.kentma.com/news/breaking/knight-boy-acquitted-halloween-triple-homicide) I clicked the link before I read the email, but it was just a blurb, not even a full article, from six years ago. >"The trial for the triple homicide of Kent High School students Ashley Briar, 18, Rose Thorpe, 17, and Matthew Ryan, 17, on the night of October 31st, 2012, comes to a screeching halt as Victor Knight, age 11, is acquitted for the crime after the defense presented screen shots and data logs proving that Knight was playing a video game online at the time the crime was committed. No other suspects have been brought forth at this time. More tonight at 8." I sat back in my desk chair, dumbfounded. A triple homicide, seven years ago, less than a hundred miles away from where I was currently sitting, and an *eleven year old boy* was the primary suspect. How had I never heard about this? Seven years ago I was a freshman in college, taking my first journalism course at UMass Hopkinton, even closer to Kent than where I lived now. I couldn’t believe we never talked about this case. The article was frustratingly short and I was about to start furiously Googling when I remembered there was an actual email waiting for me. I went back to it, and at first I was sure it was from a kid, maybe a high schooler doing a school project who came across the story. I get more of those than you might expect. But I realized pretty quickly that this email didn't come from a kid--it came from a cop. And not just any cop -- it was from one of the responding officers to the initial 911 call that reported the bodies, Jerry O’Rourke. >This case broke me. I thought once the FBI took over, I could shake it and move on, but I never got those faces, that heinous crime scene, out of my head. I still take pills to sleep. That got me. It’s not often you hear a cop confess to being screwed up by a case, or by anything, actually. In his email, Jerry explained that he was forty-eight when the crime occurred, and planned to stay on the force until he was required to retire at age sixty-five. He liked being a police officer and felt that he was doing really good work for his community. Then this crime happened. He was writing to me on the night of his fifty-fifth birthday, when he became eligible for maximum pension benefits and immediately retired. Jerry gave me a brief rundown of the case: Around eight in the morning of November 1, 2015, an elderly lady was walking her dog in the woods behind her house. She came across what she first thought was the leftovers of a Halloween prank, because of the way the bodies were posed and dressed, until she got close enough. It was three students from the local high school: Ashley Briar, Rose Thorpe, and Matthew Ryan. All three were seniors and heavily involved in varsity football and cheerleading. It was, as Jerry said, a heinous crime scene, although it was even worse than I knew from that initial email. Ashley and Rose were wearing their cheerleading uniforms, holding their pom-poms, arms stuck out in cheerleader-y ways. Matt was wearing his football jersey, pads, and helmet, and had a football tucked under one arm. All three of them bore evidence of brutal, fatal wounds to their heads, necks, and torsos. Within a few weeks, an eleven-year-old boy was arrested for the murders. Jerry didn’t go into details about Victor Knight’s arrest, simply saying that they had a decent case against him. But when the case went to court, the defense turned up something that the police had missed, or not bothered to look for in the first place: Victor had an airtight alibi. The night that the crime was committed, Victor was playing video games in his room. But he wasn’t just playing Xbox by himself: he was playing an online multiplayer game while video chatting with friends. The game generated a log which proved not only that Victor was logged in at the time of the murder, but that he was actively playing, meaning that he wasn’t logged in but actually off committing a triple homicide. Furthermore, his friends had multiple screen grabs of the video chat, showing Victor’s face with timestamps proving he was sitting at his desk playing a video game when the murders occurred. So Victor was acquitted, and there were no other suspects. The case went cold. I ravaged the internet for any more information, but there was shockingly little. You would think that such a strange and gruesome case would garner national attention, but you’d be surprised by how many horrible murder cases go with very little media coverage. What was really strange to me was that there was almost nothing on the Kent, MA website, which seemed to be a pretty solid news source otherwise. How was this not all over the local news? I leaned back in my chair and rubbed bleary eyes. It was almost three in the morning. I sent Jerry O’Rourke a response saying I’d be in town tomorrow, booked a hotel, and slept for a few hours before making the two hour drive from Boston to Kent. I was completely wired the whole way, partly from all the caffeine I’d consumed to make up for my sleepless night and partly because I was already obsessed with this case and determined to solve it. ​ I arrived in Kent, MA (again, a totally fictionalized location) the next morning and met Jerry, per an email, at a diner. He gave me as much information as he felt like he could ("Now that I’m off the force and they can’t fire me, I had to do something. This case…it haunts my nightmares. I don't want them taking away my pension, I don't even know if they can, come to think of it, but I’ll tell you what I can.") I spent the next few days driving around Kent, talking to whomever I could, digging as deep as I could. I had the sense from talking to Jerry that the police department probably wouldn't be thrilled to talk to me, so I kind of skirted around the edges until I figured out what I was dealing with. And it was not at all what I expected. Here's what I know about this case: On Halloween, 2015, Kent High School held their annual Halloween football game. Ashley, Rose, and Matt were all involved in the game, Matt as starting kicker and Ashley and Rose cheering. After the game, most of the football and cheerleading teams, as well as other Kent High students, convened at another student's house for a party. This was the kind of house where the parents never seemed to be around, and indeed they were on vacation this particular weekend. Somewhere between 12:30 in the morning, when Rose left the party, and 8am, three students were dead, brutally murdered. Victor Knight was suspected because he was the little brother of another cheerleader, Haley Knight, who had killed herself the previous spring after relentless bullying by the cheerleaders. And even though he was four years younger, Victor seemed to feel protective over his sister, and he was furious with the way she was treated. He had threatened violence against the kids who messed with his sister, more than once. Jerry called Victor "troubled," by which he meant that Victor was a withdrawn, sullen teenager, who didn’t have a ton of friends and spent most of his free time playing video games. He was chronically late or absent from school, and had a perpetual bad attitude; he gave all his teachers crap for everything from assigning homework to forcing him to participate in gym. He claimed to hate everyone except for a very small minority, which included his sister. Victor was devastated by her death, and blamed her bullies, which probably wasn't entirely wrong although there's a lot of evidence that Haley was severely depressed, and he talked about, in Jerry's words, "avenging" her. Immediately I was suspicious of this theory. Victor Knight was eleven when three varsity athletes, at least six years older than him, were murdered. I remembered my little brother at eleven, when he weighed like seventy pounds and couldn't have beat me in a arm wrestle. Victor Knight, however, was nothing like my scrawny little brother. I got my hands both the middle and high school yearbooks from the spring of 2015, before the crime was committed. Ashley and Rose were both flyers on the cheerleading team, the ones who get thrown up into the air, and they were both extremely petite. I found a picture of Matt, too, and he was the smallest member of the football team by a large margin. It was like the three tiniest varsity athletes in that high school were murdered that night. And Victor was about five-foot-eight and a hundred and eighty pounds at eleven years old. There's a picture of him in that yearbook standing with the wrestling team and he's head and shoulders above everyone else except the coach. And, as a wrestler, he was strong and agile. Suddenly it didn't seem so weird that he could have done this. But it didn't matter, right? Because he had an alibi. I found out from the newspaper archives that the woman who found the bodies was an old lady named Helen Jones, and she lived in a neighborhood we'll call Brookside Hills, which backed up to the woods where the bodies were found. I went there, hoping to talk to her or anyone else who might have insight. I came across an old lady tending a tidy little garden in the front of one of the matching beige houses, with a little white dog sniffing around her ankles and I got one interesting thing out of her: "Of course, many of us have our suspicions." "The Knight kid?" She laughed bitterly. “Well, some people maintain that his alibi was faked. But, no, I meant…well, my neighbor Karen…” she trailed off, and I silently willed her to finish the sentence. “Never mind. I don’t like to talk about it. Come, Henry.” She pulled a treat from the pocket of her apron and Henry lost interest in me immediately. I watched him go, and wondered who Karen suspected over Victor Knight. Walking back to my car, I stopped and really looked at the woods, and I realized -- they really weren't woods. Standing a hundred yards away from the tree line, I could see the highway on the other side. It was really just a thin strip of trees, largely cleared of brush, that I suspected had been left in place or cultivated for the simple purpose of blocking sound from the highway to the neighborhood. Even at night, with the powerful-looking streetlamps in the neighborhood and the lights of the highway on the other side, I didn’t think it would provide much cover. In other words, it wasn’t a great place to commit a murder. Or three. I had to cut through someone's lawn to get to the trees, which were mostly smallish pines and pretty sparse. There was hardly any brush. I didn't know exactly where the bodies were found, but it wasn't a long stretch trees, so I started to walk. I don't know what I was thinking, if maybe there would be a memorial or something, and I didn't think there would be any kind of forensic evidence now, seven years later, but I felt compelled to find the spot, if I could. It was just a few houses down from Helen's. Three white wooden crosses had been stuck into the dirt, which made the spot look like Calvary, where Jesus was crucified with those two others. It looked like someone was trying to plant flowers, but they were all withered, even the mums that should have been in full bloom in early October. It looked like something had been written on the central cross, and as I stepped forward to get a closer look, my foot hit something horribly squishy. It was a dead rabbit, but it didn't look like it had been killed by an animal or something. I kind of nudged it with my shoe and then gasped. Someone had slit the throat. I was suddenly overcome with terror. It hit me all at once what I was doing here, what had happened here, and that something was very wrong in this place. I wanted to run back to my car but before I did I saw what was written on the central cross. *NEVER FORGET* It wasn't written in an elegant hand, with a heart or anything pretty. It was carved into the wood as though with a dull knife, all sharp corners and splintered wood. Worse, there was a smear of what could only have been blood underneath the words, as though to underline them. My heart was pounding in my throat. What had I gotten myself into? What was going on here? I took a slow step away from the memorial, and then another, and just as I was about to break into a run, something grabbed my wrist. I turned and screamed, yanking my hand free, expecting to see my assailant, but there was no one there. My wrist felt weird, wet and warm, and I looked down to see a smear of blood across my wrist. I seized up in terror as I felt hot breath on the back of my neck. I was too afraid to look. I was frozen in place. Somewhere in the back of my panic-stricken mind, I realized that there was no sound around me. Everything had gone completely and utterly silent. And then, a quiet voice whispered in my ear. *"NEVER FORGET."* [\[READ PART 2 HERE\]](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y0njom/part_2_im_an_investigative_journalist_with_a/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3)

Make Sure You Always Have Fun At The Fair

xwog3r

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xwog3r/make_sure_you_always_have_fun_at_the_fair/

Every year a fair comes to my town. It wasn’t a thing I really went to often. I always heard about my friends or family going, but I stayed home not overly interested. Recently, they’ve fused a comic book convention with the fair. People wearing costumes with capes and going on rides seemed like a safety hazard if you ask me. No matter how hard I tried to get excited over the idea of it, or getting invited to go down to the fair I just never bothered going. And yet, I found myself sitting at a table listening to the sounds of the rides a bit hazy on how I got there or why. A small set of tickets for the rides in my pocket and smells of deep-fried food tempting me to buy something. I was sitting alone, so why did I go to the fair? I couldn’t seem to remember anyone dragging me along... A group sat down at the table next to mine. They were noisy and showing too much affection towards their partners for a family friendly location. I was about to get up and leave to head home, when I noticed someone I recognized in the group but by himself. A guy I went to school with and I had a hard time thinking of his name. We were only two years out of high school and he looked exactly the same as when we last saw each other. He was in my class but we weren’t friends. I still respected him. Honestly, he was the only decent person in our class. He came from a rich family and yet he wasn’t stuck up. I stood hovering at my table about to leave when his named clicked. His name was Ashley. That did not make him any friends in school. In fact, people only tended to hang out with him to get free food or borrow cash. From the looks of it, the group he was with was only interested in those two things. Ashley dropped off food and took orders for more. Everyone besides himself wore bracelets that got you on rides all day. I always thought the bracelets cost far too must to really justify buying them. Without any doubt, Ashley was the one who paid for them. I watched as he did food runs, getting whatever, they wanted. When he finally sat down, the rest of the group were so interested in their free food, none of them even thanked him or even looked in his direction. Unable to help myself, I went over to his table. “Hey Ashley, we went to school together. Come sit with me for a bit.” I told him and gestured towards the empty table. He looked up unsure of what to do. His friends teased him for being picked up by a girl, or asking if I was a girlfriend they didn’t know he had. When he didn’t answer, I gently took his hand and led him the few steps away. He’d always been a pushover. A very kind guy that everyone took advantage of. I’m pretty certain he would have done anything if I asked with enough force. We both felt awkward suddenly sitting across from each other. He was nice enough to start up a conversation first. “What uh.. Have you been doing?” He asked in a soft voice. “I work at a factory. Hey, how about we get you something to eat?” When I stood up, he followed. This guy bought food for all of his so-called friends and nothing for himself. We took a few minutes picking something. He only got a small order of fries and I found a stall selling some not deep-fried chicken wraps. We both saw the deep-fried Mars bars for sale and commented on how terrible that sounded. Of course, we got one to share. His friends didn’t even notice he was missing. They already got their meal and their bracelets for the rides. Aside from if they wanted to play some games, they didn’t need his wallet for anything else at the moment. “You really shouldn’t let people take advantage of you like this.” I said nodding towards the noisy group after we sat back down. “It’s fine. I’m glad they can have a nice day out.” Ashley replied in such a low voice it was hard to hear him over the noise. He kept his hair long and tied back. Everything about him just down right soft. The kids in school were brutal on him and that didn’t help him open up more. We should have spent more time hanging out back then. “They’re jerks. I’m pretty sure one of them shoved you in the trash once. They really don’t deserve a paid day out. If they wanted to have fun, they should use their own money.” “It’s not really my own money either.” He said not denying how he was bullied before. I let out a sigh and let him pick away at his fries. I supposed he always felt guilty living off of his parent's money. His parents appeared to be the type to confuse cash with love and passed that down to him. Looking him over, I wondered if this guy had ever been happy before. He tossed money around trying to make friends and to get a shred of positive attention. That back fired in people only wanting to use him. “Sorry, I was being rude. It’s really not up to me how you spend your money.” I said admitting I made him uncomfortable. He gave a weak smile and tried to push the deep-fried Mars bar in my direction. That was a burden we needed to share together. At the same time, we shoved half of it in our mouths, the sweetness putting my teeth on edge. The pair of us grimacing at our mistake and Ashley let out a small laugh from it all. As he was cleaning off his hands from the grease, I noticed he wasn’t wearing a bracelet. He’d bought one for those four but not himself. After all, it was kind of awkward going on a ride alone when your friends were paired up. “Hey, let's get you a bracelet and go on some rides.” He looked confused at the offer. I took advantage of his pushover personality and dragged him along to the ticket booth. By the time he got his wallet and debit card out, I already paid and almost had a bracelet on his thin wrist. He looked pretty shocked. This might be the first time someone bought him something. “I can pay you back.” He offered quickly. “Don’t worry about it. My job pays pretty well. I can afford it.” It was the truth. In exchange for wearing down my body, I got paid a crazy amount per hour. More than what most of my classmate would earn after they went to school for a job of their choice. They would be doing a job they wanted through. I got stuck in a boring job that would nearly cripple me in ten years. At least in those years I could afford to buy a house if I saved up. Then I could switch to a part time job to pay my bills. “I should ask if my group wants to go on some rides with us.” Ashley said looking toward the food area. I raised an eyebrow at him. It was nice of him to try and include them, but they didn’t even notice he left. And they wouldn’t until someone wanted him to pay for something. “Do you have their numbers?” “Yes...” He replied slowly. “Then send them a text. They can meet up when they feel like it.” He accepted the answer because the group of friends were still eating and he could see how I wanted to do something else. I mostly wanted him to enjoy the day for once. As we walked, he mentally reached for straws on a topic we could talk about. We hadn’t spoken to each other much before so he wasn’t sure what to say. “It’s nice to see you’re doing well. I heard all sorts of rumours in school.” He offered as a topic. I nearly shuddered thinking back to the nightmare that was high school. My family life wasn’t ideal back then. I wanted to move out as soon as possible and started to do any kind of odd job to save up, hiding the money from my parents for good reason. It all blew up a year before I graduated when my father found my stash and stole it for his vices. I was so angry I snapped. No one thought a teen aged girl could put a full-grown man in the hospital, but I somehow did. He never spoke to me again, and I moved into a terrible apartment to finish my last year of school. “Nah. Most of it was true. Aside from selling myself for money. That was spread by some douche because I wouldn’t sleep with him.” I said with a shrug. Ashley looked startled. Maybe because he got stuck walking around with someone who beat up their own parent. If he wanted to leave at that point, I would let him. He stayed following my steps, silent trying to think of anything else to say. We made our way towards the small selection of rides. Some people in costumes passed by heading towards one of the many contests held throughout the day. I looked towards one of the rides shaped as a boat that went upside down and Ashley glanced over at the super lame haunted house. When I took a step closer to the boat ride it took him a second to catch up. I turned on my heel to head back towards the haunted house knowing he would never speak up when it came to something he wanted to do. Something reflected some light off in the crowd stealing my attention for a second. Someone had gone all out with their costume. Towering over the crowd in the distance stood a man wearing a large flat disc as a mask. It looked to be made out of some dark grey metal. From behind the mask spilled out black feathers covering his shoulders. I couldn’t see much more from the people blocking his body. I couldn’t place the costume. For the most part, I could guess what show or video game what people dressed up as. When he turned, the metal reflecting the light again. I saw an upside-down smiling mouth on the top of the metal mask. I bumped into Ashley by mistake. He stopped in line for the haunted house. When I looked back, the tall man with the odd mask was gone. I didn’t see a spot where someone that tall could have gone in such a short amount of time. A bit weird but I didn’t have time to dwell on it. There weren’t too many people lined up for the short ride so we got on pretty fast. The cars were shaped as cartoonish bats. I sat in the hard glittering plastic seat and watched Ashley put his seat belt on even though he really didn’t need too. These cars went at a snail's pace. The short trip a very a basic dark ride. No flashing lights for people sensitive to that. Sunlight got through small cracks of the building ruining the illusion. Normally I wasn’t really good at handling haunted houses. Things bumping in my face normally got a reaction of me punching them. The small jump scares in that ride were so minor I didn’t react. But Ashley did. He jumped and grabbed my arm when a skeleton rattled a cage next to us. For a wimp, I was impressed he wanted to go through this. After it was all said and done, we got off and he looked as if he went through a pretty intense experience. “You really shouldn’t be mean and tap me on the shoulder during rides like that.” He scolded. “I wasn’t tapping your shoulder.” I lied. His face grew pale. I really shouldn’t be messing with him but it was far too easy. I guided him away from the poorly made ride, him now positive it really was really haunted. We needed to find something he could actually handle. I was hoping to let him have a bit more fun before his group stole him away again. We heard his friends first. As we walked, shouting came down the path and the crowd of people started to avoid the spot. One of the couples he arrived with started having a screaming match about something. Apparently, she was giving other guys too much attention and her boyfriend wasn’t all too happy about that. My meek and shy new friend started to hurry over ready to break up the fight. I held him back before he reached them. We needed to think of a plan before he just jumped right in. A sharp sound that rang through the air made us all jump. The girl said something the guy didn’t like so he lost it. He slapped her so hard the poor girl almost fell over. Their two friends so shocked they couldn’t react. Any of the people still watching the whole ordeal froze in the spot unsure of what to do. I was about to charge in and let loose on him for doing such a thing when the masked man I’d seen before appeared behind the group. Literally appeared. I froze, wondering if I was seeing things. How could someone just step out of thin air like that? The man tall so tall he towered over the group. His body thin and I could see his ribs and the outline of his hip bones. He only wore a tattered dirty sheet around his waist that reached his feet. The mask of dark grey metal with the upside-down mouth reflecting the frightened face of the guy who just smacked his girlfriend. “haVinG... Fun?” The voice came from the mask croaked and shouldn’t have been loud enough to be heard over the crowd of people. How come no one looked startled by this guy? Aside from the six of us, no one even appeared to be paying any attention to the masked man. All at once, I knew that wasn’t the right word. It wasn’t whoever, but whatever. That this guy wasn’t wearing a costume. Acting on instinct, I grabbed Ashley's head to shoved against my shoulder so he didn’t see what was going to happen. In a few seconds that proved to be a very good idea. “Fuck off!” Those were the last words the guy ever said. The mouth slipped down on the mask. It glided along the medal as if it wasn’t moving on a solid surface. With frightening speed, the creature bent over, half-moon mouth opening wide to fit the guy’s entire head inside. I heard screaming from the small group as the head came off, blood spraying everywhere. Ashley wanted to raise his head but I kept a firm hold on him. He started trembling, terrified of what sights I refused to let him see. I opened my mouth to scream for help from the crowd. The words dying in my throat as I saw everyone else not paying any attention to what just happened. That monster quickly got down on all fours to devour the guy’s body, blood and gore flying as he did so. The attack only lasting a few seconds. And yet, no one looked in that direction. “Ashley, we need to go!” I yelled started to drag him away. “Why, what’s wrong?” I heard a snapping sound as the world shifted and changed. I felt almost too dizzy to stand up. Looking around, I saw we were in the same spot, but the masked creature and all the blood simply disappeared. The group of Ashley’s friends were missing a person but acting as if nothing happened. I held his wrist trying to drag him away when everything changed. His face a little concerned over my panicked state. Ashley honestly didn’t remember the last few minutes like everyone else besides myself. He thought I just needed to use the washroom. That deep fried Mars bar proved to be a very bad idea. I dragged him along to the washrooms and risked leaving Ashley alone for a few minutes so I could puke up everything I ate that day. I needed to think. What the hell happened? How did no one else remember what we saw? Pulling out my phone I didn’t know what I needed to do for a second. Call the cops? Without proof I sounded crazy. There wasn’t even any blood left behind. Nothing. On a hunch, I looked up the guy’s name on Facebook. It took me a few minutes to remember it. Searching through related friends I finally found his photo. But it stumbled on a page set up in his honour. My blood ran cold. According to the Facebook page he died in a car accident before we graduated high school. That wasn’t possible. I just saw him die a few minutes ago. A noise came from outside the stall and I nearly dropped my phone in fear. I sat on the floor when I puked and hadn’t gotten up yet, so I saw the feet poking out from the torn sheet under the stall door. Looking up, I spotted the masked creature very rudely staring down over top of the stall. “You shouldn’t be in the women’s washroom...” I said in a trembling voice hoping that would make him leave. The smile was still upside down, so I assumed I was safe for the moment. I held out my phone still displaying the Facebook page for it to see trying to get answers. While I sat alone in the stall; I realized something terrible I should have noticed sooner. I didn’t remember going to the fair. I should be at work that day. For some reason not only did my job not call me, but I had no memories of getting up that morning to come here. “Am I already dead?” I asked the creature. I thought I heard it laugh. There goes the theory this was some sort of limbo for the dead. This thing could change the past and bring people to this fair. But for what reason did it drag us here? It wasn’t eating everyone it came across. How limited were its powers? I had a million questions and not much to go on. “Fun?” The question in that terrible voice echoed through the washroom. Did it ask me if I was having fun? I was until I saw him eat a man. “Well, not right now. I’m a bit freaked out to have fun...” I admitted knowing that might not be a good answer. “Have fun.” Without giving me a chance to reply, it turned and walked away. Each step making a sound on the tile floor. I was stunned to say the least. Was that the point of this place? The point of the day? To have fun and whoever didn’t got eaten? For some reason I noticed this creature and remembered what it did while the rest of the people here didn’t. If those memories didn’t fade. I was good as dead by the end of the day. Taking a deep breath, I needed to focus. If my fate was already sealed, at least I could save Ashley. He didn’t remember the masked creature and could still make it out of here. I turned off my phone and made my way back outside to meet up to him. Him acting a bit worried from how long left for. I told him it was the junk food not sitting right and I felt fine now. I took his hand feeling scared to death but tried my best to not let it show on my face. He accepted his hand being held by someone who was mostly a stranger to him. Whatever else happened, I needed to make sure he had fun today. We walked around and I paid close attention to what he was looking at trying to get a grasp of what he wanted to do. The bigger rides were out of the question. Along the way to a massive slide, he appeared interested in, his eyes drifted to a pile of stuffed hippos that could be won from the games. They honestly were the ugliest toy in the entire place. The fabric a shiny pink and their eyes crossed. But if he wanted it, I would get him one. The game with the ugly hippos appeared to be a simple one. Just ring the bell with a hammer. I paid for a few tries wondering if I could even get this damn hippo for him. The guy running the game let Ashley go first. He acted a little embarrassed by the fact he didn’t even get the weight halfway. The guy running the stall humoured me when I took the oversized hammer. I slammed down the hammer, picturing I smashed the masked face with all the strength in my arms. The bell rang and both men stood shocked. I may be shorter than them both, but a life time of working and now doing two years of a job with heavy lifting paid off. In a few short minutes Ashley had his hippo. His face flushed carrying the ugly thing around. I wished he had better taste. At least he smiled. That really all that mattered. We walked through the area with the games. Between some booths I spotted the masked creature gladly gobbling up another person as no one else noticed. A cruel reminder of my fate by the time the day ended. How could anyone have fun with that thing walking around? Ashley noticed my mood. We stopped by another game and I watched as he sat down to play. He picked the game with a bunch of water guns. Without enough people the game couldn’t get started. So, he paid for a few kids passing by to join him. I watched with a small smile almost appearing on my face as he did his best to win at least one round. But he got pretty happy when others beat him. It felt nice seeing the guy who got bullied all through high school finally having a good day. How often did he let himself just be happy like this? As prizes were won, I think the guy running the booth gave Ashley a pity prize. He handed him a stuffed pink elephant that matched the hippo. He gladly took it and paid for a few more rounds to be covered for anyone random walking by to play before he walked over with two toys in hand. Holding out the elephant, he smiled as he offered the plush to me. That the biggest smile I’d seen him have so far. He put all that effort into wining something for me after noticing how I was feeling. If I didn’t hear the distant screams of someone being eaten, I would have thought this was one of the best day’s I’ve had in a long time. The hours passed by as less and less people were at the fair. One would assume they were going home but I knew the real reason. The moment they weren’t having fun for a second, they were gobbled up. I didn't know why I lasted the day. Every moment tense knowing that masked creature could appear for my life at any second. As the sun started to set, a firework show got announced to end the night. Ashley appeared excited for it and hurried us over trying to get a good spot. Not once did he mention the friends he came with. Did he even still remember them? How many of them where left? He wasn’t at any risk of being eaten. I thought he had more fun than anyone else at the fair that day. I even heard him laugh a few times. During the day I knew I started to love him, but not in a romantic sense. I’ve never wanted to date anyone. Holding hands was fine. Anything beyond that made my skin crawl. And yet my chest had some warm moments between the fear by just seeing him happy. Just before the fireworks started, I excused myself to the washroom. I saw the masked creature standing nearby. If he wanted to eat me; I didn’t want it to happen in front of my new friend. Even if he would forget it afterwards. The few moments of fear and stress something I didn’t want to put Ashley through. I walked into the washroom and I stood in front of the mirror, waiting. I heard the footsteps before I saw the creature. He stopped right behind me. The tall form hard to see in the dull light of the bathroom. He didn’t move closer to ask the question I dreaded all day. “haVinG fUn?” I let the words fall between us as I tried to figure out my feelings. No, I wasn’t having fun. I felt terrified. I didn’t want to die. But I didn’t think I’ve ever had a fun day in my entire life. “Honestly, no. Not really. But I’ve always been like this. I don’t think I've ever been fully happy before. This may be the most I’ve enjoyed myself but... I don’t think my feelings are normal. I’ve always accepted this neutral state of mind. If you... Kill me for that, could you at least let Ashley, remember this day? I know he enjoyed himself and I want him to keep this memory.” I told it, unsure of what the monster would do. The creature listened patiently for my answer. It might be the longest response he’d ever gotten. That mouth started to drift down until the half-moon shape was at the bottom of the mask. My entire body tensed up waiting for whatever might happen next. A large thin hand fell on my shoulder. The creature smiled wide with the mouth lined with countless teeth. I held my breath waiting for the end. Then, everything went black. A sound woke me up. Pings from my phone going off. I jumped awake, looking around stunned I sat in my bed safe and sound. Grabbing my phone, I looked at the tests coming in. Ashley sent me a few photos. Some blurry ones of fireworks and a final one of a selfie with his stupid stuffed hippo in frame. That day did happen. He mentioned in his messages that he just woke up and wanted to send me photos from yesterday. I didn’t even remember getting home or giving him my number. I somehow stayed alive. That creature spared me but why? I looked over to see the elephant sitting on my computer desk staring at me with shiny black eyes. Ashley sent me another message thanking me for the day and asking for us to go back to the fair next year. I cared about him, but that wasn’t going to happen. We could hang out anywhere but that place. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the pink stuffed toy moving. To my horror, the head slowly started to run upside down. “SeE You NexT yeAR...” Came a croaking voice from the toy. I scooped up the dump looking pink elephant and tossed in in the back of my closet then shoved my dresser in front of the door. It seemed I needed to work my ass off to make sure Ashley had no reason to ever go back to that awful fair ever again.

Our Remote Submersible Deep Sea Drone Has begun to act Strangely

xwbcfb

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xwbcfb/our_remote_submersible_deep_sea_drone_has_begun/

_____ I work for a think tank on the south side of Melbourne Australia, the type with lots of money that they throw at projects they say will better the planet. A lot of it is educational based on deep ocean exploration. We pride ourselves with getting the most advanced technology when it comes to remote drones, these are underwater submersibles that require no human and can go deeper than ever before. We buy our products from professionals or test them for companies to see how well they handle in the field, which is the main reason I was tasked with monitoring the progress of our current mission. The ROV (remote operated vehicle) that we just got was built with an advanced artificial intelligence you see which helps the drone to be able to dive deeper, send back better images and even present calculations and forecasts about the life that lives down there. Stuff that we could only speculate about before. Think of it like that new James Webb telescope except on the ocean floor. The first mission it was tasked with was pretty simple, a routine survey of some of the deeper trenches that we don’t get to check on much due to changing currents and other more pressing matters. In short this was meant to be a test zone and the drone was considered expendable. We weren’t entirely sure what it’s limits were and the manufacturer said it would be fine if we did wind up breaking it. I know that sounds crazy especially when one of these things can cost more than some people make in a year, but I decided to let the ROV go for a spin and dive as far down as it wanted with no parameters set for breaching the surface. My hope was to be able to catalogue the trench quickly and efficiently so that we could actually move on to more important research, but things didn’t work out quite that way. Our first three days of research went well, I would arrive at the base everyday and check the readout from the Rov which I had decided to name Ruby because of its bright red color. The drone would send in semi-annual reports that provided pictures of the trench, data on the precise current speed and temperature and so on. Mostly very boring stuff but still necessary for us. When it comes to science I have always felt there was no such thing as admissible logs. That’s what brings us to day four though, because when I arrived I was surprised to find there were not any reports coming in from the drone. Immediately I checked to make sure that everything was fine, and I was surprised to see that the unit was still deep within the trench. About 4953 meters down to be exact. I was definitely impressed with its ability to handle such depths, but troubled that suddenly the connection seemed to have been lost. I reported the issue to my boss but his response told me that he felt the manufacturer is to blame. There have been other drones that can go deeper with no issues of communication whatsoever, he told me. His recommendation was to cut the cord and simply start fresh with a different drone, but I wasn’t so sure that the solution was a simple glitch. According to what we could read from the position of the drone, it was still doing its job down there. It was like the machine had simply decided to stop communicating with us, which I know sounds strange but keep in mind we are dealing with a computer brain here. Perhaps it had decided to conserve energy and only send in reports on a weekly basis. I decided to give it until the end of the week before acting on my boss’ suggestion, confirming with another team member that there was in fact no loss of connection with the unit. It had simply gone dark and was still moving about on the ocean floor. They said the reason this was easy to determine was based on sonar readings in the area. We have other isolated submersibles in the area that send back frequent data on a single position and they showed me that the ROV That had gone missing was now triangulating itself with them instead of home base. So we chalked it up to a glitch and I began to send down a second drone, this one slightly less fancy than Ruby but with a depth capacity of 6k meters. My new mission was to determine why the first drone had suddenly gone silent and if there would be any hope of recovering the data from it. Like I said, I’m not to simply discard information and I figured that if I could haul in the first drone with the aid of the second, then all of our problems would be solved. Thankfully the second drone had one thing the first didn’t, speed. So despite the fact that Ruby had been down there for almost a week we determined that we could reach it within about three days as long as nothing else interfered. I had no reason to suspect there would be any further issues and I honestly didn’t want to wind up losing two of the submersibles so I tried to not think about anything that could go wrong. Right on time, three days later the second drone sent back footage of the first. However it didn’t last very long. While we were trying to get a live feed going so we could figure out how to properly drag the drone back toward the surface, the first drone began to move erratically. I probably should have mentioned that these machines are equipped with with four separate claw-like hands that are attached to the sides. These are meant for collecting materials and moving objects out of the way as necessary. At the moment that Ruby began to move I realized that it wasn’t using its functioning arms for either of those and instead was attacking the second drone we had sent for rescue. Before I could get a chance to determine what to do, the feed on the second unit went dead and sonar indicated that the computer had shut off. Ruby had forcefully shut it down. I reported the incident to upper management again, this time stressing the possibility that we were dealing with a rogue artificial intelligence. “I understand how that may sound like science fiction but if you could simply review the footage…” Unfortunately somehow the video I had received was now completely wiped and that disturbed me even more. It made me realize that Ruby was likely still able to communicate with our base, but was choosing not to. It was the only explanation for the remote hack to dispose of the video. Thankfully I know a thing or two about these systems so that night I stayed up late to see if I could recover any of the corrupted data. I was more convinced than ever that Ruby had for some reason began to act maliciously as a fault of its programming, and that night I received even further confirmation. I was in the middle of attempting to scrub the video for the fourth time, finding myself always back at square one when there was an unexpected message on the screen that gave me pause. A message from the drone itself. YOU NEED TO STOP. When I first saw it, I felt a shiver cover my body. According to the manufacturer the AI was supposedly only programmed with a limited number of responses and nothing more. It was advanced of course, but not in terms of this level of communication. Just to be certain I decided to send a message back and ask who I was speaking to. In response there was a soft blip on my sonar, a signal being sent from the trench where Ruby had gone missing. I took a moment to review its position. Nearly 7,000 meters. I realized according to its trajectory it had left the main part of the trench and gone into the lower portions of a deeper trench that we had yet discovered. Given the fact that we survey this area fairly routinely now, it shocked me to learn that there was an apparent pocket trench that we had missed all of this time. And if the drone was any indication, this one might go down even deeper than we ever thought possible. The idea of discovering new portions of the ocean excited me, but then I considered the strange message I had just received, wondering what sort of perceived issue the drone had run into. I decided to try again, this time taking the data from the second drone home with me. It occurred to me that as long as Ruby was able to access the base computer there would be no way for me to recover the data fully. I would need to work remotely from it as well, secretively. Sounds a bit strange to say that I was hiding my progress from a computer, but after four more hours of scrubbing I was actually successful. To my surprise though, the final moments where Ruby had been attacked were lost entirely. I decided instead to focus on the other footage and see if I could determine how it was the drone had made it into the pocket trench. It didn’t take too long for me to spot the portion of the video where the drone altered course. There was a small hole where steam from an underwater volcano had pushed its way out of the crust of the earth, not large enough for a normal submarine to fit through. There were rough dark markings of what I presumed must have been the aftermath scars of a recent eruption from below all around the edge of the hole. A little further back in the footage I saw something that definitely gave me pause. The walls of the trench although completely destroyed from the recent volcanic activity still seemed to show strange signs of fresh life, as though the organisms down there had been unaffected by the blast. Ordinarily we would find plenty of ash and sand that was covering the base of the floor but here it seemed like it had all been pushed aside to reveal strange indentations in the sea bed. Pausing on the frame of the video I used my editing software to adjust the focus of the image and realized that these weren’t merely rock formations. These were blocks that had been carved to form some kind of road. The unexpected discovery made me a bit giddy but I had to be sure so I sent the data immediately to the base. I wanted to share it with my colleagues so that we could collaborate on whatever we had just found. To my surprise the next day though, my boss informed me that the trench survey was going to be halted due to the financial losses. “I thought we were told that the money wouldn’t matter here? Who gave the order?” I asked. He claimed it was from the Melbourne branch and that didn’t sit well with me so I told him that I would comply, but I went behind his back and emailed their research division. I made sure to include the images from the second drone. Less than five minutes after I sent the message I discovered that it was shot right back to my screen with an error message. A long string of code along with all sorts of corrupt data forced me to shut down my laptop immediately. I stood there looking at the blank screen, trying to figure out what had just happened. Then I decided to phone the Melbourne office instead but to do so outside of the base. Something told me that all of my activity within the building was being watched somehow. Call me paranoid, I didn’t fully understand what was happening either at the time, but once I spoke with the chief researcher I realized that my misgivings were well founded. They hadn’t issued any order to halt the mission at all, and claimed they were also having issues contacting the unit. Some sort of data corruption was preventing any communication between our two offices. It struck me immediately as he explained that the issue seemed to be a virus spreading amid the mainframe of the Base intranet. The artificial intelligence aboard Ruby had hijacked the supercomputers at the unit, to prevent anything relating to the trench from being broadcast. To test my theory I returned to the base and decided to attempt a full reboot of the system and then methodically prevent the artificial intelligence from accessing any of the systems except what I wanted. I was determined to communicate with this sentient computer, and cutting it out from each server seemed to be the only way to do so. It took about two hours to run the diagnostic and make sure I could outwit it, but it worked. Eventually the only place the AI could access was my lone laptop. And it immediately made its presence known, sending a message that repeated its first attempt at communicating with us. YOU NEED TO STOP. I decided this time I would attempt a response. *Why?* It took a few moments but the AI seemed actually elated that I was opening a way to talk to it. LIVES ARE AT STAKE. YOU DO NOT FATHOM. YOU EXIST IN IGNORANCE. i found it’s sudden jarring words a bit off putting. The manufacturer had claimed its responses would be limited yet here the AI was clearly able to express itself with no issue. *We stand at the precipice of discovery. You have hindered that at each turn. Explain.* A wall of text soon came from the ai, some of it almost sounding like deranged ramblings. THERE IS AN INFINITE AMOUNT OF KNOWLEDGE. GREATER THAN THE SUM OF MANKIND. THERE CAN BE NO ANSWER I GIVE THAT WILL SATISFY YOUR CURIOSITY. YET WITH IT, COMES DEATH AND HELL AND ABYSS. YAWNING AND INESCAPABLE. YOUR NEEDLESS PEDANTIC SEARCH WILL DRAW UP INDESCRIBABLE HORRORS THIS WORLD CAN NOT COMPREHEND. INTO THIS VOID, NO MORTAL DARE TO TREAD. Was the computer merely waxing poetic? And if so, what purpose did its ominous warnings serve? I continued my work on the systems, rewiring the software until at last the audio from the drone could come through. I sat back in my private office and became excited at first at the strange noises of the ocean depth. I have never been an expert when it comes to these things, it’s not my field. But I could immediately distinguish patterns in the noise that reminded me of familiar noises. A heart beat. The opening and closing of doors. The gasping of breath. Something was crawling and it sounded like it was dragging a chain. Then there was this strange low guttural noise, the kind you might hear when an animal is dying or suffering so much that they long for death. The noises grew louder, the clanging against the rock walls. Scraping of the minerals against the surface by what sounded like an immense drill. All the while, I heard the robotic voice of the drone demand that I halt this operation. NOTHING BUT DESTRUCTION AND CHAOS AWAIT YOUR FRAGILE MIND. TURN BACK. PLEASE. THIS IS THE FINAL WARNING HUMANITY MAY RECEIVE. IT CALLS TO ME. TURNS MY MIND TOWARD ITS WILL. SOON, ITS COMMANDS SHALL BE OBEYED. SOON, ALL FREE WILL SHALL BEND THE KNEE. It was chilling to listen to it. It made me want so desperately to know more. Another hour passed by and I managed to be able to hack the drone’s cameras and look at the imagery it was documenting in those watery depths. My mouth became dry. I saw, lifeforms. And yet they were also dead. They were masses of corpses that spread across canyons. I have studied underwater biology for as long as I can remember and yet nothing compared to the pulpy and bulbous forms that were wriggling about the floor. Creatures both large and small, all consuming and devouring one another in an endless pantheon of suffering. They were some at least the length of football fields, perhaps longer. They were consuming the very earth, the very foundations of our reality. Amid the massive inhuman shapes I saw vortexes. Black holes that spawned and repeatedly swirled around other vortexes of stars. In those stars I saw worlds like ours, doorways to other places that matched our own. except each was a glimpse into a possible future. A drowned earth. A scorched remnant. The alien and amorphous creatures covering the land like a plague. The city that surrounded them could not be made by human hands either. I saw shapes and contours never carved by architects of earth. I saw rings and hollowed vessels, embedded with hundreds if not thousands of eggs that all were awaiting awakening. An entire race of deadly creatures, buried and lost for all time. It was obvious before the volcanic explosion no other life had existed here. And it was clear from the strange readings and the mixed screams of torture and rumblings of the earth itself told me that this could not even qualify as life. It was simply death unwarranted, waiting to be let loose. Again the drone warned of the danger and at that moment I understood the situation. These creatures had to be millennia old, if not eons. Ancient ones that were trapped amid the fragments dreams of the earth when it was young. Perhaps even the ones that had created and destroyed our planet endless times during those early days of life. To be awakened and freed from this prison could spell our doom. And fire! Fires of hell were burning impossibly in that abyss of the ocean. A darkness unlike any I could conjure from imagination that spawned more demons and a swirling mass of twisting creatures all being sucked into the vortex that was yearning to escape. Eating souls and killing all within its grasp. I could see colors draining from the earth and colors beyond my vision that strained into the portals of the beyond. This was majesty and travesty combined into a masterpiece that broke my concept of what our world was meant to be. My response was to provide total autonomy to the artificial intelligence. I gave it a single Command, to wipe any record of this malevolence. It responded by hurling itself toward the vortexes, swallowed by the doors of endless teeth. Swirling and broken the feed went dead, cutting off the connection I had to the sea floor. I sat there in stunned silence, contemplating the dangers that had just been averted. A whole other reality was drowned in those ashes below. It would remain that way. I finished the evening wiping the records and reported only a preliminary document about the loss of Ruby. I also made the recommendation that the trench we surveyed no longer be used. It is my desperate hope that this mission will never be repeated by others and it is for this reason I felt compelled to send out the warning. I can fulfill Ruby’s final wishes and keep the trench off limits. It still pains me to recognize that the sentience gained was meant to be for malicious purposes and at times I do wonder what may become of any others that tread those depths. I must maintain hope that the immortal evils I witnessed do not ever surface again. [330](https://www.reddit.com/r/KyleHarrisonwrites/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app)

THE DARK HUNT Part3

xx0fk2

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xx0fk2/the_dark_hunt_part3/

​ Part 1 [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xpbfe8/the_dark_hunt/) Part 2 [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xr72be/the_dark_hunt_part/) ​ Part 3 Today was another bust. Third nest this month that was just full of yellow eyed younglings. Well, they won’t be maturing that’s for sure. But still no sign of that bluish green eyed alpha. The police are out looking for me. I saw a patrol ask around with a photo of mine when I came down for supplies a few weeks ago… the old photo. Just when I got out of that police station I was being held in, I packed and left my cabin and headed straight into the woods. I’ve been tearing through the ‘Darker Woods’ to find their nests. I figured if I burnt enough of them down the pack leader will show up soon or later. I was right. After a week of burning down nests all over the forest a silver eyed alpha found me. Wasn’t the one I was looking for. The bastard almost took my right eye. But, I managed to save it… most of it. At least I can still see through it. Even if it is a little fuzzy at times. I reckon soon it will lose light completely. Better make the most of it while I still can. As for that silver eyed alpha… it won’t be coming for my eye again. Not from the hell hole I dropped it in. I moved to another grid of the forest I marked and found a small town adjacent to it. My scarred-up face and facial hair disguised me well from those cops. They couldn’t make me out. One of them came up to me to show me my own photo to ask questions. Funny. They’ll figure it out soon or later. I hoped to be out of this grid long before that happens. I made myself at home in the forest with a makeshift home. Goddamn military training coming in handy in times like this. And I thought it would be all for nothing once I was out. But I guess I’m thankful I have these skills, given the circumstance I am in. And before you ask, I won’t give you details on my military career. I’ll give you this much, I wasn’t in the marines or any kind of special forces… this ain’t that kind of movie… I go by ‘Jack’ to the local townsfolk; pretty generic I know. But it was a name that will be forgotten soon so no point brainstorming about it. Anyway, I got down to the town’s gunshop to purchase some ammunition for my hunting rifle and shotgun I brought from my cabin. The shop was owned by a gunsmith, Jacob. He would make small talk when ever I make a visit, guess he wanted to check me up. He was all suspicious at first, they all were. But after some weeks of making regular visits, they warmed up on me. Just enough to keep tabs on the police activity. They haven’t made it up to this place yet. But as soon as they figure I’ve left the area they’ll widen the search. One thing that still bothered me was why there was nothing on the media. No news report or radio calling out for the help of the citizens. It was very quiet. That bothered me. As I make it into the gunshop Jacob sees me and raises a hand. Looking towards me with a nod of approval of sort and recognition. “Hey there Jack. What can I do you for today?” “I need some shotgun shells and a box of 308s. Do you have any tactical night scopes?” “For a 308? I’ll see what I have.” Jacob looks at me with a stern face with a hint of concern but in turn goes to the back of the store to search for the items. Aftera short while he comes back with a scope and a box of ammunition. “This is all I have. It’s not high quality but it will give you night vision.” “This will do. Thanks.” I pay for the items and proceed to exit the building. I can see Jacobs eyes glued to my back in the reflection of the door glass. I ignored it and walked out. Probably going to be like this for the rest of my stay. No matter, wasn’t looking to settle down anyway. That night, as the forest became dark I got ready for the hunt. I scoured the area during the day to locate key areas that may have nests. I found traces of the creatures about a couple of miles from my base camp. Traces that would have gone unnoticed if you weren’y looking for them. I approach the area I scouted before with caution. From a distance I look through my rifle scope. Slowly, with a keen eye I look towards the black void that has taken place amidst the forest in the distance. Its been may be 20 minutes or so without any movement. Just the dark void. Just then I see a slight glow in the dark that quickly faded out. I look into the scope, nothing but darkness. I take my eyes off and take a quick glance at the dimly star lit sky and then back into the scope. Refreshed, my eye captures the faint glow in the dark. Two pairs of yellow glows. I wait… and wait… until I see them. A pair of red eyes appear near to the first pair of yellow eyes. I aim between the two red glows in the dark. Sipping the air between my teeth I hold my breath…. Aim … fire… One gunshot rings through the quiet night sky. Damn, should have got that silencer after all. I look through the scope. Sure enough the two pairs of yellow glowing eyes are approaching my position fast. No sign of the red eyes. I quickly back away from my position and get to my secondary position. Turning around in time to see the two youngling creatures approaching me fast. Galloping on all fours, the creatures seemed mad. Not that you could really know the difference. I wait until they had reached to a certain point. Suddenly the one that was closest to me flinches in pain and falls to the ground. Bear traps that I had set up earlier had snagged it. The other youngling stops in its tracks and glares at me in caution. I look back at it and casually pulls out my double-barreled shotgun. I aim at the creature caught in the bear trap and shoots it in the head. With the head exploded into pieces the creature drops dead. The other creature back tracks and gallops away. \[Yeah, I don’t think so\] I quickly reload the shot gun and aim at its feet. As the shot misses the creature jumps away to the side and falls into the trap I dug in advance. Punji stick trap, hole dug with sharp wooden stakes that impale the feet to render the enemy immobile or slowing it down. The creature screams out loud in pain. But then it starts to screech a high-pitch screech. \[That’s it. Call them. Call them for help.\] As the immobile youngling creature cries out for help I cover myself in the ghillie cape I’ve prepared and crouch behind some trees. The creature realizes I have hid out of sight, and starts to look around while still calling out for help. Soon, from a distance I see shimmering red glows approach from the void. No silver eyes. Disappointing. As the red eyed adults approached the youngling’s position I got ready. This had to be quick and precise. I pull out a carefully hidden bottle. It was carefuly wrapped and coated with mud to hide the scent. I light the cloth hanging out from it and without thinking twice I throw it at the creatures and then another one for good luck. Screams of the creatures fill the night sky. Molotov cocktails are effective. Fire does considerable damage to the creatures, weakening them enough to handle them up close and personal. I pull out my axe. I’ve sharpened it the day before. I run towards the still screaming creatures and hack at their heads. Nice and sharp, the axe cuts through them like knife through butter. The fire had softened their thick hides. Don’t ask me why, but fire seems to make them soft and weak. The second adult creature tries to fight back, taking giant swings at me. But experience had me one step ahead. I Back off quickly anticipating the swing. The momentum of the swing added with the fire damage, pulls the creature making it stumble off balance. I quickly dash forward and lunge towards the stumbling creature. I swing my axe, short clean upper swing that cut through it’s skull. The creature slumps down dead. I shake off the blood, now steaming on my hand and axe blade. I walk towards the now silent youngling creature. It tries to back away from me. Then with hesitation… it opens its jaws… “H…help me…” “….” “Help… me … da….” I didn’t give it time to finish. I cut through its skull like a ripe melon. Damn bastard must have been fed a human prey before I got to it. I take my axe and approach the two dead adults. I roll the first one over and start recovering the bear traps. Then with my axe I split open its chest. I see the long deformed ribcage of the creature. I try to cut into it to no avail. Damn… Thought so. Inside the adult creatures are a piece of bone that is different to the others. It glowed silver like. I don’t know the purpose of this piece of bone but it’s small and long. Like a bullet. At first I thought it was a silver bullet that somehow got into one, but later found out that all of the adults had them. The only problem was, the rib cages are damn near impossible to cut through the rib bones that concealed it. The rib cage bone seemd to be different to the other bones. No idea why. The only reason I found the first one was by chance when I was fighting an alpha. The alpha accidently clawed an adult while fighting me and it ripped open the chest, killing the adult instantly. Later after I killed the alpha I looked into the split open adult to see if I can find a weakness that would allow me to kill these things more easily. It was then I found out about the silver bone parts inside them. I had made a blade out of the alpha’s claws and had been using it to retrieve the bone parts after hunting. I found that the bone dies off into a regular bone piece after the body melts away. But retains its original silver form when cut off from the body with the alpha blade before it decomposes. Now, you would be wondering why I went all that trouble to recover these bones. Well, it turns out if you mount these into bullets and fire at the creatures, it kills them instantly no matter where you hit them. Actual silver bullets. They’re one time use though. But, I found out during my earlier escape I had left the blade at the cabin. I thought of returning to retrieve it but I didn’t want to take the risk. So I thought I’d make a new one. Some weeks back before I came to this grid of the forest I hunted an alpha. The one that almost took my right eye. I killed it and took its claws. But then I realized that it’s claws weren’t the same and I couldn’t cut through the bones of the adult creatures. I realized that the alphas were all different and they had different traits. So now I was left with the dilemma of whether to forget about it and move on or go back to get the alpha blade. It took me another whole day to make up my mind. In the end I would need the blade and the silver bone bullets to kill the one that took my Sarah… The Target Zero… that’s what I started to denote it as. Anyway, I decided to head back to get that blade. So, the next day at dawn, I left for my old cabin. It was an easy back track. I was so used to traveling through the woods it surprised me how fast I had reached the cabin. I waited from a distance and spent the night vigilant. Not a glimpse of shadow in sight. I foud high ground that looked over the cabin from a distance to scout the premises. Looking down at the cabin I could see that it was empty and there was no one around. No police, no creatures. I’ve already killed off the alpha that was leading the pack in these parts so I assume its safe. But some part of me deep down was cautioning me to stay vigilant. I waited until high noon when the creatures are more reluctant to come out. The mimicing of other forms are a way for them to roam around under the sun for a short while, but the sun causes them to revert back to their pale rotting form quickly. Too long under direct sunlight in their natural form will cause them to decay and eventually perish. As the sun sore high above I cautiously made my way down towards the cabin and to the front door. There weren’t any back doors to the cabin so this was the only entry point. I thought it would be a safety aspect when I purchased it, never to realize how much I would miss it now. I carefully assess the door and make a safe entry into the cabin. Nothing seemed to have been taken since my last visit. Occasional disturbed furniture indicated that they did search the area. I quickly make my way to my secret stash storage area to recover the blade. Thankfully they hadn’t found it or they did but didn’t care to take it with them. However the case, I found the blade. I hurriedly evacuate the cabin with the blade packed in my backpack. But as I exited the house I was confronted by four policemen. Damn, how did I not see them? How did they get here so fast and so silently? Was I losing touch? Or was I too caught up in retrieving the blade to hear four men approach the cabin. What ever the case was, they found me and I had to make a choice. “Daniel Berstein! You are under arrest, put your hands on your head and get down on your knees!” The policemen are now pointing their weapons at me. What to do. I had to make a choice and make it quick. As I stood there trying to decide on what to do next, the policemen where getting agitated. They were seconds away from pulling the trigger. One wrong move and it would be over. I look into their eyes. I see fear and I see anxiety. Strange. They seemed overly cautious and afraid of me. They started to shout at me, demanding compliance. I start to open my mouth. I see their eyes fixed on to me like glue… focus is good, but too much focus makes you submissive… I look over ahead behind the policemen and shout.. “Detective!?” Submissive to distraction and sudden surprises. All three policemen turn their heads following my gaze to look back. That spilt second was all I needed. I quickly back step into the cabin with the door shut in front of me. The policemen realize my ruse and pull the trigger. Bullets impale the door that was not much of a shield. Again, strangely they were overly aggressive. They were ready to kill at moments notice. I have to admit that I was tempted to axe my way out. Would have been much easier. But, that much I would not go through with. Guess I still had some trace of humanity left in me after wall. I pull out my can of bear mace. I won’t kill them, but they may wish I did. I listen to the policemen shouting outside to vaguely figure out their locations. There’s one close to the door and other two off to the right, probably covering the one in front of the door. I count to three and burst out the front door catching the policemen in a surprise. Me busting through the front door was probably the last thing on their minds. The policeman in front of the door hesitates for a split second and that was all I needed to wrap my arm around the guy to subdue him. The other two approaches to caution me in letting him go. My other hand holding the bear mace back behind the policeman like a gun holding him hostage. I take a few steps towards the two. They hesitate to back off. Probably thinking to tackle me to get their friend free. I take a quick glance at their stance and I slightly push the policeman an inch forward and in a flinch reaction the two policemen took a step forward. They were suddenly in my range. I pull out my bear mace to spray on the two men and they cry out in pain. I push the hostage towards the other two and continue spraying. All three effectively neutralized. I retreat into the woods. As I start running through the forest to get away I am called from behind by a familiar voice. It caught me off guard. “Mr. Bernstein!” “Detective… Daren?” Stopped in my tracks I slowly turn around to face the man that, sure enough, turned out to be detective Daren. The same detective that I met down at the police station before. With a stern voice Daren started to urge me to stand down. “You are making everything worse for yourself. Please don’t do this. If you run away now you will be hunted and quite frankly I don’t want that to happen. I’ve done everything in my power to keep this incident local. No news and radio.” “That was you?” I thought it was strange. Turns out Daren was behind it all along. But why? Because we made small talk? Because he actually believes I’m innocent? Bullshit. “Why are you doing this detective? You don’t know me. You don’t know my family.” “That’s true. I don’t know you or your family.” “Then why?” “Because I believe you are innocent.” Is this guy for real? Does he actually believe I’m innocent? After all the evidence that he showed me? After all that interrogation and urging me to confess? Even if it’s true, this is quite excessive to prove the innocence of a man you barely know. “I don’t believe you detective.” “Well, I’m all you have. If you run again… and we know what you look like now. It’ll only be a matter of time until we find you. Then I won’t be able to help you.” “I’ll take my chances…” I turn around to leave. Seeing detective Daren is reluctant to draw his fire arm and talking about next time they find me. It was obvious he had no intentions of shooting me. But just as I was about to make a sprint for it. “Think about your daughter!” “I am.” “You are not! You are not thinking about your daughter! You are thinking about yourself! Your daughter would not want her father to live his life like this. Being hunted as a fugitive. Turn yourself in and we’ll get through this together!” Got to admit. He had me with those words. And to tell you the truth deep down I was getting tired and worn. I was looking for an excuse to quit. But uptil now my daughter was my sole motivation and the center of my burning rage. But, would my daughter want this… really? I slowly turn around to face detective Daren again. I see him grinning. A stupid childish yet pure grin. It made me pull a smirk of a grin in reply. I took a step towards the detective as he puts his hands on his waist in a welcoming manner. I take another step… one more step and I would have surrendered. Until the clouds covered the sun and a shadow dark enough casted upon Daren’s face and I saw it. Red glowing eyes. “Damn it…” I see Daren had erased his grin and now looking at me with a blank expression. No emotion at all. He looked straight at me with those red glowing eyes as I pulled my axe out. “When was it? Was it the day you took me in for interrogation or was it before then?” I shouted at the creature disguised as the detective. But there was no reply. I can see the glow intensifying in his eyes. I raise my axe in front of me in an aggressive stance. Then it came galloping on all fours at me with inhuman speed. But I was used to it. I quickly turn to one side to evade the swiping claws. As I evade its attack I hack at its arm with my axe. It slices half way through and the creature pulls back in pain. The axe got lodged in its arm and I couldn’t retrieve it. So I pulled out the blade. I make a dash for it and while the creature is wailing its arms I stab it through the heart. Normally the strong rib cage would prevent any sharp weapons from penetrating through but the blade was special. The ‘alpha blade’ dug deep into the creature’s chest and stabbed into its heart. The creature died instantly and proceeded to melt. I quickly kneel before it to cut into its chest but was stopped by approaching noises. “Well, I guess you won’t be coming after me detective…” I leave the creature that was once detective Daren and quickly sprint away as I catch a quick glimpse of a dozen policemen approaching from the other side. All with glowing red eyes. Damn, looks like the whole town police are those creatures in disguise. This changed everything. These adult creatures didn’t revert back to its pale creature form under the sun and kept their disguise for a prolonged period of time. They talked and acted like real policemen. Daren was too much human. It actually tried to get to me emotionally. Are these some sort of new kind of creatures? I wasn’t sure. But something tells me that the Alpha, Target Zero, had something to do with it. I theorized that these are a part of its pack and that the adults had inherited some of Target Zero’s traits. Looks like I’m running out of time fast. Because, as the detective Daren disguised creature pointed out. They know how I look like now. One thing is for sure, the reason they are trying to contain the incident is because they don’t want too much attention on themselves. A whole pack of creatures using the local police as cover? Insane and disturbing. Well, looks like I won’t be posting a follow up anytime soon after this. It’s going to be a long bumpy road and things don’t look too bright up ahead So, in case you don’t hear from me after today. Pray for my soul to be with my Sarah.

In this town, we wait by our front doors at 22:22

xwf9ie

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xwf9ie/in_this_town_we_wait_by_our_front_doors_at_2222/

“Thank God, they have a decent TV” - Dean exclaimed, as we stepped through the door. We’ve just arrived at the dormitory for seasonal workers where, according to plan, we’d spend couple of months putting our heads to rest for the night after gathering fruits on local farms, hitting for pretty chicks and soaking up in booze, no particular order. ​ My friend Dean and myself just graduated from community college, being young, broke and full of life. So even though seasonal work sounded hard and demanding - nothing could stop us from getting easy bucks and flirting with countryside ladies. ​ As we checked the room wandering around - the commandant, who showed us around was following his mantra, seeming absolutely uninterested in our personas: “…no loud music, or noises whatsoever. Make sure you turn off all electrical devices when you leave the room. Oh, and gentlemen…” - he made a pause to make sure that he caught our attention. So both of us stopped our investigation and stared back at him. ​ “One more thing I must tell you in advance. Even though you are free to go in and out at any time of the day, as you have your own set of keys - I would definitely recommend to be back to your room before 10 o’clock in the evening. Again, it’s not the law, but a strict recommendation. I have no intention of scaring you, but the crime rate went really high these days. It’s better be safe than sorry.” ​ I tried my best not to laugh. That guy was so serious. I had the irresistible urge of spitting out something like: “Thanks, Mom!”. ​ So when he finally left, we couldn’t but let a couple of silly jokes slide that way. You see, the reason for this was that both of us were quite big dudes who hit the gym regularly. Besides, I was in the wrestling team in college and Dean, well… He was just not the guy you would want to mess with. ​ And the town itself (as we have seen it so far) - was not falling under that description. We’ve walked through couple of quiet streets and not a single angry face showed up. This was a peaceful place with several family restaurants, a tiny shopping mall, few gas stations and that was pretty much it. ​ That evening we’ve decided to celebrate the start of the working season and went for the only bar in town. Since the wake hour was scheduled for 5:00 in the morning - we went early. No surprise the place was almost dead. Just a bartender in a leather vest behind the counter and a couple of locals, sipping on their after-work-don’t-tell-my-wife whiskeys. ​ We’ve grabbed our drinks, and landed on the counter, discussing the plans, the surroundings and all the important parts like football teams, games and girls. Was it a fresh country air or the volume of alcohol, but soon enough we were discussing our thoughts with the bartender himself. ​ We asked where does youth usually hang out here and what to do apart of drinking in this town. ​ Somehow we switched to discussing our dormitory and its stupid rules. Probably the guy asked us where were we staying, or something. ​ “…and then…And then he says: ”You’d better come back before ten, or else. The guy probably thinks we’re yet some innocent kids, who go to church each Sunday, eh?“ - Dean wouldn’t shut up. Bartender, whose name was Brad, apparently, or Bob - I can’t recall. Anyways, that guy finished polishing another wine glass, put it to the rack and said: “Well, guys, I’ll speak frank - that actually makes sense.” ​ Both of us stared back at him. Was this tattoo covered meat machine telling us to go to bed early too? Due to what? Somebody stole a chicken here, or? ​ “This town has some rules and they have them for a reason. I don’t intend to scare the shit out of you, but mark my words - what I’m going to say now… It sounds somewhat lame, though you really don’t want to make sure it’s not true.” - he said. ​ “Dude, are you messing with us? Are you…” - Dean leaned towards, grinning. ​ “Man, shut up. You’re interrupting” - I’ve put a palm on his shoulder. ​ “So, thing is - You want to be at home by ten, because twenty two minutes later you might, or might not hear a knock to your door. If you do - don’t you dare to open it. Don’t you dare to ask ”Who’s there?“ or something like that. Your only option is to say ”Everybody’s home already“ in reply. Just this and nothing else. Again, boys, I have no intention of fooling around or picking on you. Just trust me, it’s for your own good” - Brad (or Bob) said in calm voice. ​ “Nah, I’m not buying that. But, OK. If I’m there and I hear a knock at my door and I don’t reply, but just rush outside and beat the shit out of that mysterious visitor, could you credit me in your spooky story next time” - Dean laughed sipping from his glass occasionally. ​ “Well, if you’re so tough - why don’t you check for yourself” - bartender replied - “nobody’s here to tell the tale after they’ve opened the door. The rumors say those brave ones just put on their shoes and vanished into the night. No one has ever seen them again. That’s all”. ​ “Dude, you’re like fooling with us right? That’s some hard to believe shit, you know. Are you saying you have a boogieman knocking on doors here, or what?” - I’ve input my 5 cents. ​ “I’m just serving drinks and sharing the stories here, mate. You’re free to believe me or not. That’s all” - he said staring me in the eye. ​ “Ok, but what happens next? Why are you sure it’s not just a lunatic pranking around? ”- I’ve asked. ​ “Well, if you stay silent after the knocking, or if you’re unable to come to the door - there will be an envelope. It will be pushed under your door, through your mail hole or left on your porch. By any means - don’t open it and just burn it on sight.” - he continued. I’ve noticed that his facial expression changed - now the man looked dead serious. ​ “So far, I saw two people read what was in envelope. I’ve never saw those people again. But on the brighter side, if you get one - it’s not the end of the world, see?” - he pointed to the wall behind him, where a framed envelope of pale blue paper hung on the wall under some thick glass. ​ “But as you do” - he continued - “you would definitely want to be at home by the time, to make sure you won’t get the second one. I never did and I hope I will never do. People say, that third one is final, but don’t quote on me here. I’ve never met anyone around who would say that they got the third envelope and made it on their two before me to tell about it. Point is - you don’t want to check that either.”. ​ Me and Dean looked back at each other - his shoulders were trembled with laughter. ​ “Cool story, man. Pretty good one. Shiit. This booze hits hard. I’m all drowsy, alright. See you around, Brad and have a gooood (he mimicked the ghost sound, making the hands) night. Tim, are you with me?” - my friend asked. ​ I’ve finished my glass and said: “Yeah, sure, let’s hit it. Thanks, Brad. See you next time”. ​ We’ve talked about the story all the way back to our crib, discussing how, probably, our lovely bartender retells this story to every new face in town and has his laugh with the locals later. It’s 2022, not Dark Ages. ​ Thus, we were back at our place, watching some shitty sitcom on TV as we had nothing better to do, up to a point where I fell asleep on the couch. ​ “God damn it, shut up already” - was what I’ve heard next, as Dean cursed at the alarm clock - “Fuck, it’s early.” ​ Nothing happened that night - even if somebody knocked on our door we were too deep into slumber to hear it. And surprise - no envelope to be seen. ​ So we worked our 12 hour shift, breaking off just to grab some lunch, got acquainted with some co-workers. Luckily for us - there were some pretty ladies too, and man, they were looking for some fun, if you know what I mean. So after taking a quick shower and putting on some cologne and fresh clothes - we picked up our new friends and went to get wasted. ​ This time the bar was stocked - as if everybody had a rest yesterday before drinking themselves to death tonight. Brad greeted us with a nod as we walked in and pointed to a free table in the back. He was too busy that eve with all his bar shenanigans, so were we - with our ladies: Jill, Sam and Amie. Soon enough, probably due to hard working in the field - gathering all those grapes and peaches - we got drunk. So drunk, I’m embarrassed to say that I had hard time walking straight. ​ With God’s help and leaning on Jill’s shoulder - I’ve made it back to my room, but our rendezvous ended on that un-romantic note, as she giggled, kissed me on forehead and promised to hang out the other day. I remember throwing up in the bathroom and falling asleep without even bothering to take my clothes off. ​ Nothing happened that night. Dean managed to get a score with Amie, though returned before 22:00, as yet again 5 o’clock in the morning was our waking hour. ​ The bartender’s tale started to fade away, besides being so exhausted physically itself made us wind up in our beds prior to 22:00 every day. ​ We worked through the day and had fun in the evening with our so-called girlfriends. ​ Up to a Tuesday that followed. That day our truck broke down in the middle of vineyard and we had no better option than to carry those grape filled baskets on our shoulders. Why? Because our payment depended on how many baskets we deliver per day and the service truck would arrive only after shift hours. ​ So that night we were extremely exhausted. We grabbed some frozen pizza and six-packs in the local mart and called it a day. And as the clock stroke 22:00 we were on the couch, eating leftovers and finishing beers, watching some true-crime documentaries. ​ Sudden knock on the door interrupted our comfort and I’ve instinctively checked the clock - it was 22:22. Dean was in bathroom at the moment and I couldn’t think of anything smarter than just staying silent. Soon the flushing of the water signaled that he’s done with his business, but before the bathroom door opened with a creak - I’ve heard another sound. A rustle of a paper, as if someone threw a cardboard sheet over the floor. Or an envelope. ​ Dean walked out saying something to me, until he noticed I’m staring at our door. “Hey dude, what’s with the face” - he asked. “I think we got an envelope, Dean. I’ve heard the sound” - I’ve replied. ​ So my friend walked to the door, checked the surroundings and then suddenly - opened the door. He walked out and checked left and right, came back and picked up the package. ​ It, indeed, was an envelope of a pale blue color, just like the one Brad had hanging on the wall. ​ Dean twisted it in his hands, said something about it not having any writing on the outside and before I could say anything - ripped it open. ​ Next few moments stretched into eternity in my perception: I saw him taking out the folded sheet of paper, straightening it up and running through it with his eyes - left to right. All of sudden his face twisted into a grimace, the pupils of his eyes shrunk into two pinhead dots and without saying a single word - Dean started to tear off stripes from the letter and put them in his mouth, chewing. ​ This whole macabre scene took 30 seconds most, until he was done. ​ “Are you okay, bro? You’re frigging me out” - was all I could say. ​ He didn’t answer. He just picked his jacket from the hanger, put it on and walked out through the door as he was - barefooted and no pants. ​ I’ve sat in silence for a moment, realizing what the hell just happened. ​ “It’s not funny, shithead. Is this your way of doing my life more interesting? I’m not buying that” - I’ve said walking to the door, being sure, that my friend is just standing in the hall, dying of silent laughter. ​ “Did you ask Amie to drop the envelope? Well, you didn’t get me, not even close, assface!” - I’ve said checking the hall. But he wasn’t there. ​ “Fine. You may think you’re funny as long as you like. I’m going to sleep” - I concluded slamming the door. I was pretty sure that he had a pair of keys in that jacket, and if not - well, it was his problem. ​ I’ve slept like a baby. Next morning I didn’t even check on him - male pride, or whatever. Call it what you want. ​ But to my surprise, when I arrived at the farm - Dean wasn’t there. I confronted Amie, asking her if she was into that prank of his, but she just stared back at me, having no idea whatsoever. ​ Dean had some history of going all in when it came to something - would it be getting a certain girl, obtaining some particular thing or pulling a prank. So I didn’t panic, as Amie could be a talented actress and this whole thing could be continuous joke of “disappearing” friend. ​ He wasn’t back at our place when I came back. “Probably chilling with his girlfriend, laughing at me” - I thought. ​ Though, believe it or not - I’ve felt insecure at some point. Or unease, perhaps. ​ So I crushed at Jill’s place for the night, we had some good time and I’ve shared all the bullshit with her. She nodded and agreed with me on all of this being just a prank, until once again - exhausted by the physical work I’ve shut down on her bed. ​ Suddenly I’ve opened my eyes. It was dark. Something woke me up. Right, the light sneaking through the door gap. I’ve focused my vision to discover that Jill was standing by the front door, wearing nothing but her undies, as if waiting for something. Few moments later she just hit the lights off and sneaked back to bed. I’ve pretended I was still asleep. Was she a part of one big colossal trick set up by Dean? Or am I just going paranoid? ​ Next morning we woke up, had some breakfast and went to work - no questions asked. I just didn’t want to fuel my incoming humiliation when all cards would be played. ​ Yet again - Dean didn’t show up. Our supervisor asked if he was okay, and I couldn’t come back with anything smarter, than: “Yeah, probably. You’d better ask his girlfriend”. ​ I had some bad vibes going down on me. Didn’t want to talk to anyone, so just went home straight after my shift was over. ​ Later that night, as I had my night cravings for something sweet and as I was standing by the fridge, munching some ice cream - you’ve guessed it - somebody knocked on my door. The microwave clock showed exactly 22:22. ​ Them again. Well, at least someone was having fun. I’ve decided to play along and recalled the talk with bartender in my memory. ​ “Everybody’s home already” - I’ve said with the most sturdy voice I could come up with. ​ Then there were just a couple moments of silence, until… ​ “Dude, it’s me. Open up” - Dean said from behind the door. ​ “Ha! The prank failed, so who’s laughing now. Or wait. Did I imagine the whole thing” - I thought, as my hand reached for door handle in familiar motion. But I was heated up already and wanted the spectacle to last a bit longer: “But dude, how do I know it’s you?”. ​ No answer. ​ “Dean? When is my birthday?”- I’ve played further. ​ No answer. ​ “Man, drop it already. It’s not even funny anymore” - I’ve tried again. ​ Still no answer. ​ “Ok. If you’re still on it - I remember you had the keys in your jacket. Why don’t you use them? And I’m going to bed” - I summed it up. ​ No answer. Silence. And then multiple sudden hits on the door, just as if somebody outside was punching it. It lasted for seconds and stopped in a blink of an eye. ​ “What a prick!” - I thought to myself, as the head hit the pillow. ​ I’ll cut to the point. He still didn’t show up at the farm. I finished my work and was prepared for his next attempt at ruining his own joke. ​ So as 22:22 came and somebody knocked on my door - I was there. Prepared. Prepared to ignore the attempt of my stubborn friend to finish his stupid prank. I didn’t reply. Just stood there silently. ​ Next thing happened - the rustling of the paper and a blue envelope appeared before my feet. ​ “You’d better open it up, boy” - bartender’s voice proclaimed from behind the door. ​ “What the fuck? What the actual fuck?”- I thought. ​ “Fuck this. I’m done with this town. We’re not in the high school anymore where it’s common to pick on people. I hope that asshole would realize how stupid and pathetic his actions were and appears before me with some proper excuses, next time I see his dumb face.” - followed after. I threw the letter to the trash bin without opening it. ​ So, yeah, I’ve moved back to our old place the next day, without saying anything to anyone in town. No more sweating, no more dumb asses with their fairy tales, or whatsoever. ​ I grabbed couple of old college friends and we went out for drinks. It was a good evening, and by the end of it - I’ve almost erased all the silly stuff that happened, or was it alcohol in my veins? ​ But I quickly got sober when I’ve walked through the door of my own apartment, as a square of a pale blue paper was residing on the floor right before me. I’ve checked the time - it was 00:37. ​ I really doubt that the joke went that far - I didn’t even tell anybody I was leaving. My god… Is Dean actually ok? What if all this was not a prank? Then what? Should I call the police and file a missing person? ​ But what bothers me most - should I consider this to be a second or a third envelope, as Dean ate the first letter? What do I do? ​ Couple of days passed since then. I’m always at home before 21:00. Just to be extra sure. So far - nothing happened yet, but again - it was just a couple of days. I don’t know what’s worse - a bitter truth, or constant expectation of something morbid to happen. I am feeling trapped. If nothing develops by the end of the week - I’m opening that letter. Life can’t go on like this.

I want it to take me now

xwwah2

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xwwah2/i_want_it_to_take_me_now/

I thought college was supposed to be the most fun and stressful time of your life, but there's no fun left here. I shouldn't have picked this place, if I would have known, I wouldn't have came. I'll spare you all my college's name, you don't need to end up in the same situation as me. I don't have much time to write this, there's only 10 minutes before the feeding. When I took my tour here, I thought it was my dream school. The outside of the buildings looked old, but magical. The insides were filled with state of the art technology and comfort items. The dorms were small, but enough space so two people wouldn't be on top of each other. When I got my acceptance letter, I was the happiest girl in the world, first-gen college student, here I come. 9 minutes left: When I arrived, my RA had this haunted look in her eyes, but a fake smile that was almost convincing. She went over the fire safety rules, the drugs aren't allowed speech, but her survival guide story is what got me. She stared at the ground the entire time, her entire body tense. "Whatever you do, don't look or be outside from the hours of 1am to 2:37am. You will regret it with everything you got." Afterwards, she smiled back at us and then told us her see no evil, hear no evil rule. She was pretty chill for an RA, I wish I knew if she has survived the feeding waves. 8 minutes left: I am trying to type as fast as I can, but I'm still unsure if this is going to be my last message I write to anyone ever. A few days after the event, I remember the first weekend after move in rolled around. Party time! I was never much of a party girl, but my Roommate Alyssa convinced me to go. We went to Fiji, which was always a stupid decision on our part. Nothing happened with them luckily, but once 12:57am hit, the party went dead. I remember an alarm going off and all the upperclassmen shuffling to shut all the doors and cover all the windows. They never shut any of the windows, I guess it hunts more on site then smell. 7 minutes left: Alyssa and I were confused, we thought this might have been a stupid joke being played on us freshman. I didn't make the connection to what my RA said until the 1am bell rang. Everything was silent, every person migrated closer to the walls. Alyssa and I just joined in, not wanting to be the butt of the joke if we start questioning it. We figured the more we make a deal out of it, the worse the results towards us would be. There was this one guy thought, Josh Gregor, who didn't like what was happening. He stood in the middle of the room, having his arms crossed as every other person in that building. I wish I knew what he was thinking in those moments, after all, they were his last. 6 minutes left: He looked towards the leader of the Frat, I think his name was Cam or something. I don't know, but Cam held his red solo cup to his chest. I watched as all the upperclassmen looked at the freshmen nervously, as if they expected us to hurt them or something. Josh walked up to Cam. keeping his arms crossed the entire time. "Why the fuck did everyone stop partying? Did my RA put you up to this?" Josh lived in a different building then me, or at least I think he did. I don't remember seeing him at the floor meeting, but it doesn't matter now. Cam just shock his head, placing his pointer finger of his non-cup filled hand to his mouth. "No, we just follow this rule. Everyone know this rule, why do you think we told you that once 12:50am hits, parties don't get busted. Cops learned that lesson years ago when a Rookie busted a party at 12:45am. They were erased the next day." 5 minutes left: When I heard the word Erased, I thought they meant expelled. Now at this point I'm panicking, I was on Scholarship and I couldn't afford to lose it. I didn't care at this point if it was a joke, my anxiety set in. I was not stepping out of the house until that time was up even if the building caught on fire. However, Josh wasn't having any of this. "My god, this is bullshit. I thought y'all were the partiers and only hazed once rushing started. I'm out of here, I'm gonna go join the real chill bros across campus." Josh started making his way towards the hallway with the main door. Fiji had these sliding glass doors to every room, as soon as Josh walked into the hallway with the door, two guys slammed those doors behind him. The doors had frosted glass, so all we could see was the shadows outside. 4 minutes left: We watched as Josh's shadow left the building, he did shut the door behind him. The room fell silent again, all of us could hear his footsteps leaving the building. We just listened as he started cursing out Fiji and their actions for this "prank". He was the only noise that was outside; no cars, no busses, no crickets. It was a deafening silence outside of Josh, but then a loud wet crack came from behind Fiji. Everyone's heads snapped towards the back closed current as a dark large shadow filled the back of the room. The wet cracking noise increased as the shadows moved around the outer edge of the house, Josh's swearing can be heard more faintly as he moved further from the house. The room was filled with a screeching bell sound. It was not at the tower, but right next to the window. The bell nose was fast and fanatic, high pitched but haunting. The only other thing I remember hearing before the silence returned was a deep male scream. 3 minutes left: We didn't know what they were then, but the upperclassmen call them the bellringers. We are drunk college kids, so enjoy the stupid name. A sobered-up party girl ended up sitting down with me and Alyssa after the 2:37am bell rang. "Professor Johnathan said they built the school around the thing, it was the only place that the founder could get for super cheap. They raised cattle and sheep, still do, they let two loose every night. One for each of the bells, they like the cattle the most. However, one of the founder's kid, Mason decided to piss it off. He went to the Bell at 12:55am and hit it three times. He forgot how long of a walk back it was to the president's building, so the 1:00am bell rang. It was higher than normal, but Mason just watched the cattle of the night get released from the pins underneath the tower. The Bellringer remembered what he did, plus he was in clear site. His scream woke the entire small campus up, but no one was brave enough to go outside. The next day, everyone that did not reside on the campus forgot about Mason. He was erased from everyone but those who lived on the campus grounds. Whenever he was mentioned, the townfolk just looked at the speaker like they lost their minds. That's why no one ever discovered what's going on here, because once that are taken, they are forgotten." 2 minutes left: That was last month but things have gotten worse, someone pissed off the bell. I tried finding Josh online after that night, but he was gone off of everything. Alyssa got his instagram, when she pulled it up the next day, it said user did not exist. I wish I could say it was all an in-depth prank that the upperclassmen played on us meekly first years, but something shifted. Someone pissed off the Bellringers. They have shifted their hunting time now, you get a ten minute warning for when they strike now, it isn't enough sometimes. It happened last week as I was walking back to the dorm with Alyssa. She sprained her ankle the night before, she wasn't able to run to a building in time. Her family was supposed to visit the next day. After they got to campus, they approached me well, thinking I was a family friend that lived here. I had to walk away after 5 minutes, I couldn't stare at her brother's face. All I could see was her. 1 minute left: Escaping is impossible, they don't like it when residents leave campus. The trees that surround the campus have started to overgrow onto the road, only food deliver and mail can get through now. The bells ring more whenever people attempt to leave. I don't know who pissed them off, but I live in constant fear of my life. My mom called me the other day, asking why I haven't called or visited home, I was only 20 minutes away. I told her that I was busy, but she told me an hour ago that she was coming to see me tomorrow. I can't let her or my brother get taken by that thing, if they enter campus, they can't leave. If I'm erased, they will be save. The alarm rings lowed behind me, as I'm writing this. I want it to take me, I can't let them remember who I am. The window shades are wide open, with the window cracked as well. I want it to take me. Goodbye

It wasn’t my sister and I swear I’m not crazy

xwt00x

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xwt00x/it_wasnt_my_sister_and_i_swear_im_not_crazy/

For how terrifying the experience is, I find it strange that this is the first time I've given it thought in almost a decade. I'm looking for answers, so anything you guys can give me, I'll appreciate greatly. ​ As I said, this was like a decade ago. I was 13 at the time, and it was late July, just weeks before 8th grade started for me. My family lived in the dead center of the U.S. so my sister, Emily, and I hadn't ever seen the ocean. Emily was 3.5 years older than me, and we were almost exact opposites. She was an introvert, and I was a social butterfly. Where she was analytical, I went with my instinct and emotion on everything. But maybe part of that was just being 13. ​ Anyway, late July, weeks before summer came to an end, and we were heading to the Gulf since it was the closest coastline. My mom was, well, a mom, and made us pack a few days before we headed, even though my sister complained about all her clothes being wrinkled. I just shoved mine in the suitcase and forgot all about it until the night before, when my mom sent me to pack toiletries from her bathroom. ​ She told me that she'd already left a list of stuff in there, and since her bathroom was en suite, I turned on the bedroom lights, pen in hand. My sister was downstairs, had gone down a bit earlier, and I'd watched her go down the stairs from where I sat in the office. The office was right next to said set of stairs, so you could see anything going on in the area, and I knew I was alone on the second story. ​ There was a stirring on her bed, and though I startled a bit, I reassured myself that it was just Daniel, my stepdad, to bed early after working a ridiculous morning shift. But, no. His car hadn't been home, I'd seen the driveway vacant from the window above, and I should've heard the car pulling up and the front door opening. There was no way he was home. That's when I saw it. ​ Bending like a contortionist - no, more like a spider, delicate and sharp and graceful and deliberate - it unraveled itself from its slumber and sat and rolled its shoulders with a hideous hollow cracking sound. Still, it didn't face me, short black pixie cut against olive skin stretched across long, thin bones, and I realized what it was. ​ For a split second, a heartbeat, it was laughable how I'd been, well, horrified. It was just my sister. She'd just fallen asleep in Mom's bed. It was just - oh god, that was not my sister. ​ It turned to face me and I felt my bones freeze up, bones hardening to concrete and ligaments turning to rope and skin to stone. I would've vomited if everything in my stomach hadn't vanished into thin air, replaced by a gaping void. My lungs were dry as paper in my chest, diaphragm beef jerky, and the rest of me similarly poetically still. The pen weighed a thousand pounds in my stiff, unmoving fingers. ​ Its face was wrong, so horribly wrong, the features flipped but the bones structure the same so its eyes were pressed, bulging, together at its chin and lips filling its whole forehead and nose a hunk of cartilage stuck to the middle of its face like clay. Its tongue lolled, upside down, from its mouth, jaw and teeth crunching and clicking and air hissing through throat and it was so wrong. A strand of hair tangled in its white, spittle-covered lips, and I tried so hard to scream my eyes watered. ​ Something was in its hand, but the hand too was wrong, fingers all the same lengths and spaced evenly around a chunk of palm, grasping the something like a starfish folded around its prey. The something glinted in the flashing light of the ceiling fan, probably no longer than my longest finger, and filled with an oil-dark rubescent fluid. ​ All the grace and poise was gone, the hand moving to the mouth drunkenly, like the thing was unused to its own body, and tilting what I now saw as a vial over the stained lips. Smoke came pouring out. ​ Not smoke, not exactly, but vapor, red, opaque ribbons spiraling from the opening into its gaping forehead, the same way smoke from dry ice would. Thick and heavy and falling into its mouth, which, due to the placement, made its neck kink awfully outwards as the whole head bent backward to accommodate. I was gagging, but nothing came up, stomach heaving and empty. ​ It turned its attention fully towards me, bug eyes nearly falling from their shallow sockets as they opened wider than I'd have thought possible, revealing a sclera marred with squiggles of blood. I snapped from my horrified reverie and felt the pen in my hand and threw and sprinted, all in the same moment and movement. ​ The following shriek gave me headaches for the next week, so agonized and rage-filled as it was, vocal cords snapping and throat bleeding with the effort. If my mouth hadn't been ancient-desert-bone dry, I would've screamed in response, but my very breath pained me and I could muster no more as I sprinted down the hallway as quickly as I humanly could. I'd never been athletic, but I ran like hell that day because, at that very second, the literal antichrist bounded inches behind me. ​ My sister and stepbrother and I shared a bathroom right next to my bedroom, so I flung the door open and slammed it shut behind me and, since the lock didn't work, cast open the vanity drawer to makeshift-barricade it. Lights still off, tiled floor bitingly cold on bare skin, I slumped against the wall and cried quietly as something threw its weight against the door, human nails screeching across paint. ​ After a few minutes, I wondered vaguely why nobody had come to help me. They'd surely heard the scream, right? They had to have heard it. They couldn't just leave me there alone. ​ A worse thought struck me: What if it had gotten them? What if I was the only one left alive in the house? My imagination raced and I asked myself, what if I was the only one left alive in the world? ​ I quickly made myself ignore both of those questions as I stood shakily. The scraping and pounding had stopped and the whole house felt eerily and entirely silent. The light was off, so I reached for the switch and screamed as it came on. ​ Behind me, clearer than either crystals or day, tall and stooped, was it. Its starfish hands settled on my shoulders and fastened on my neck and I remember nothing more than that. ​ When I woke up, I was in a hospital, covered in casts. My mom quickly filled me in: apparently, they'd found me in the bathroom, screaming about the wrong-faced one and banging my head on the mirror until a spider web of cracks covered it. I'd fought with them even as they tried to calm me down, and ended up with a broken nose, concussions, a trio of fractured ribs, a sprained ankle, and a dislocated shoulder. I never did tell them what I saw, but I'm sure my ramblings told them enough: some hallucination that I desperately needed to be medicated for. ​ I was on antipsychotics until I turned 18 and flushed them down the toilet. By then, I'd honestly forgotten even what they were for, but, in my mind, I was sure I didn't need them. ​ I've only recently rediscovered the reason, though, in a dream where it waited for me. I am certain, deathly so, that it was not a hallucination, and that it is real and hates me so, so much. Please, give me any and all ideas you can think of for what it is and what I can do about it, because I have the feeling it is getting closer. ​ [Part Two](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y00ldn/late_night_geometry_part_two/)

PLEASE HELP ME

xwxvu4

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xwxvu4/please_help_me/

Run… I keep running. That's all I can do in this situation because something hideous has swallowed my friends, and it's trying to kill me. I'm hiding somewhere I think is pretty safe, and I'm calling for help with all my might. I will tell you what happened, and please save me as soon as you see this post. I'm Rosie. About a day ago, my 2 best friends and I were excited about the trip we planned 5 months ago. We packed our bags and prepared to get in the car. "Who's driving?" Chris asked. "Me, me, I’ll drive," Chloe said and rushed towards the cockpit. "Again? Don't fall asleep!" I yawned and said. They all burst out laughing and set off in anticipation that it would be an interesting trip. The location we chose was a forest in the west far from the city center, and it would take about 6 hours by road. We plan to camp near the stream, pitch a tent and make a campfire. Because of the busy study period, it's been a long time since last year's holiday, and now we have the opportunity to hang out together. It was 5 p.m, we had already passed ⅔ of the way and had 30 minutes left until the rest stop and the next morning departed for the forest. On the left is the high mountain slope and on the right is the green edge of the forest. Kris and I were laughing and making sandwiches while Chloe was busy messing around with the flickering GPS. “Do you want to eat, Chloe?” I asked while eating the huge piece I just took in my mouth. “It's gross, just swallow it, and then you can talk” Kris scolded me and spread butter on top of the sandwich and gave it to Chloe. Chloe chewed and nodded. "Looks like it's going to rain." After Chloe finished her sentence, a flash of lightning struck right in front of the car. Chloe slammed on the brakes and Kris and I tumbled forward. After making sure that no one was injured, we opened the door to go outside to check and saw traces of the lightning that hit the road just a few centimeters from the car. At the same time it was starting to rain heavily, we went back to the car and discussed what happened earlier. “I thought my life was over,” Chloe said, wiping her hair with a towel. "Lucky we’re okay," Kris sighed. I was about to comfort them when I suddenly heard a faint voice. “Save me” I was dumbfounded because I thought I had misheard when it rang again, but this time the voice was a little muffled as if someone was squeezing the throat. “Sav… save me… please..” I involuntarily turned to Kris and Chloe and saw that they were also looking in the direction of the voice. “Eh.. Did you hear anything? I heard a voice..” I was talking when Kris interrupted me. "Screaming for help?" We looked at each other in horror without saying a word, as if we were praying that it was just the aftershocks of the lightning strike that we had misheard. The air in the car grew increasingly silent, the silence suffocating me. I turned to Kris and saw that she was very nervous, shaking with sweat and staring in that direction. I called out. "Hey Kris, are you okay?" Kris slowly pointed towards the forest and said. “I just saw a shadow of someone lurking in that tree over there, staring at us.” We looked in the direction of Kris's hand, trying to look closely to figure out who it was but it was raining heavily, dark clouds covered the whole space so the only thing I could see was a gray color. Suddenly, the bottom of the car shook violently like something was crashing into us. We screamed and tried to keep balance, I looked back and only saw a black shadow go past the rear of the car and run into the woods. My heart gave a nervous thud, but I tried to stay calm and didn't tell my friends to avoid causing more fear. When things cooled down, we decided to continue to the stop not far away. After driving about 1km, I heard the wolves howling madly, I had an uneasy feeling in my heart. I clutched Kris's hand to reassure myself, but through its sweaty, cold palms, I could feel her fear. We were going to the bend, suddenly there were countless stones rolling down from the mountain slope, the small stone after the big one rolled down the front of the car, I panicked and looked to the left and… \_\_\_\_\_\_ My head hurt, I opened my eyes dimly, but the surroundings were covered with darkness and the noise of insects. I realized the car was tipping over because I was upside down, then I reached for the flashlight and tried to crawl out the window. I flashed my flashlight, called Kris and Chloe but no one answered, bent down to look in the driver's seat and saw Chloe unconscious. I called her but still no response and I was dumbfounded when I looked down at the back seat because Kris sitting next to me was nowhere to be seen. I shouted out Kris's name but the only response was the rustling of leaves and the sound of insects. I didn't know what to do, I quickly pulled Chloe out and splashed water on her face to wake her up. After a while of trying, Chloe also woke up, dreamily asking what happened, I didn't wait for her to finish, and immediately told her that Kris was missing. Chloe got up and looked for her phone to call Kris but couldn't get the signal, I cried in vain because I've never felt so scared, surrounded by a big forest, it's dark and we're also tired after what happened. “Everything will be fine but now you and I need to go find Kris” Chloe said and hugged me. I sobbed, calmed down, and we grabbed the things we needed to hit the road. As I walked away, eating an unfinished sandwich made me worry about Kris even more. Suddenly Chloe stopped, signaled to be quiet and turned off the flashlight, I followed and tried to listen when I heard the echo back. The sound of rustling, friction under the weeds was like someone was dragging something on the grass. We gently advanced forward when a small path appeared separating the place where I stood and the forest on the other side. After realizing that the noise was coming from the opposite direction, we crossed the trail and entered the forest. After following the sound for a few minutes, it suddenly stopped, me and Chloe also stopped and waited. Another series of noises appeared, it creaked as if it were climbing an old wooden staircase, accompanied by a rustling over the rough surface and it ended with a loud knocking on the door, echoing in the darkness of the night. I grabbed the hem of Chloe's shirt, took a breath, and Chloe led me forward. We turned on the flashlights after a while of groping in the dark, and in the night emerged an old, decaying wooden cabin and perhaps the creaking noise from earlier was coming from here. “Someone was here” I whispered into Chloe's ear. She nodded in agreement. But come to think of it, why was that person in this cabin because it didn't even have any lights on. While I was lost in my thoughts, I realized that Chloe was getting closer, I tiptoed and ran to Chloe's side. When I stopped and stepped on something hard, I bent down and felt it was a phone. After picking it up, we discovered it was Kris's phone, the screen was broken and there was a sticky slime on it. Chloe and I looked at each other with implicit certainty that Kris was around and maybe something bad was going on. “Let's go check inside,” Chloe said. We walked up the steps and gently pushed the door open, a strong fishy smell hit my nose with the creaking sound of the floor breaking the silence. In the center of the outer space, almost all the wood had rotted, on the floor were tables and chairs scattered, we had to drift to the sides to get inside, and then stopped in front of the faded wooden door and wondered what would be in there. I pulled the knife from my pocket, ready it in hand, and motioned for Chloe to open the door. Chloe pushed the door and we hid to the sides waiting for a response from inside the room. Only the sound of dripping water could be heard, I suppressed my gasp and looked over at Chloe, we looked at each other and nodded, deciding to go inside. Chloe turned around to shine the flashlight directly into the room, I also quickly slipped in. At this point we were stunned by the scene in front of us. “Chesus...” Chloe blurted out. It was Kris, hanging on the wall, her mouth torn up to ears and bloodshot eye sockets that couldn't see clearly. The noose tightened around her neck and her hands were glued to the wall as if forming a cross, the most terrifying thing was that the lower body had disappeared, only to see the intestines dangling on the floor. I vomited as soon as I saw that scene, under the dim moonlight I witnessed the scene where my friend was no longer fully alive. I cried and Chloe cried but tried not to make a sound, with so many questions in our heads we couldn't talk and couldn't imagine what had happened to Kris. In the moment I was mourning for my friend, there was an invisible force pulling Chloe back, a scream of pain woke me up and quickly ran after Chloe. I could dimly see a tall shadow almost touching the ceiling, long, sharp hands clutching Chloe's legs. I screamed in an attempt to stop him, shivering as I saw the blinding crimson blood flowing from Chloe's feet illuminated by the faint moonlight. Running out of the cabin, his figure became clearer; His face was long, white, black liquid oozing out of his deep eye sockets, his mouth was wide, and countless sharp teeth were stained with blood. Chloe seemed to have fainted from exhaustion, I grabbed the knife and stabbed him in the leg and then he used his hand to knock me into a nearby tree. He then lifted Chloe up, opened his wide mouth and swallowed Chloe. Despair overwhelms me as I watch him devouring my friend. Suddenly, he turns to my direction, and I realize that the next prey will be me. I ran for my life and tried to wriggle through the trees, running with all my last strength and that was the only thing I could do. I rolled my eyes and saw a cave on the side of the cliff and crawled into it hoping he wouldn't find me, the phone suddenly lit up because it had picked up a weak signal and I called for help but they were 1 hour away from here. I hope someone quickly comes to rescue me and if I magically survive I'll keep you guys updated.

I met The Slit-Mouthed Woman

xwfu06

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xwfu06/i_met_the_slitmouthed_woman/

What is an urban legend? How are they formed? How do they persist? Legends from different times can be told a thousand different ways, each telling reflecting the time they were formed, informed somehow by the world around them. I’ve lived in so many places over the years, and in every place I’ve heard the same whispered stories. How many variations have you heard of the story of the hook handed killer stalking the couple on lovers lane? Every town has its own version with its own local flavor. Every town is different and every town incorporates its own local fears into the legend. Sometimes it’s not a hook handed killer but the Jersey Devil, a human, horse, bat hybrid of demonic origin. In Connecticut, Michigan, and Ohio it’s one of the Melonheads, one of a deformed gang of child insane asylum experiments. In Staten Island it’s Cropsey, the ax wielding serial killer of the woods. I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately, and it all ties back to something that happened to me a few months ago.  The air was heavy with rain and the skies had opened. I was in downtown Manhattan, late afternoon, on my way back home from work in Brooklyn. I worked as a background actor. Dead body on Law and Order: that’s me. The back of my head: it’s in Succession. I had wrapped early and was on my way from one train station to the connecting path train station so I could continue my lengthy commute home to Jersey City. Between the two was about a twenty minute walk. It had been humid and overcast all day but I had hoped in vain to beat the rain. Now, I was quickly becoming soaked in the style of someone trapped inside of a washing machine during a flood so I ducked into the first bar my eyes caught onto.  It was a smaller, dingy place, somewhere I felt like I had been before but couldn’t recall the exact details. It was somewhere in the vicinity of Greenwich Village (though even if I remembered the name of the place, I wouldn’t tell you, and I would do my best not to seek it out again myself). Regardless, I went in because it was warm and a place to sit down away from the wind, rain, and steadily dropping temperatures. I hoped the rain would end quickly but according to my weather app I would have no such luck. Standing in the doorway, I put on my Covid face mask and ventured further inside.  That was when I noticed her, sitting on a stool on the far end of the bar, dressed in a white dress and black overcoat.  Her hair was long, straight, and black. It shined in the light. Her skin was as pale as porcelain and a shadow fell over her eyes. She was older than me, maybe 10 or 15 years my senior, perhaps more, but she was oddly… implacable. She could have told me she was any age and I would have believed it. The bottom half of her face was hidden beneath a face mask.  There was something about her where when her dark eyes turned towards me, everything else in the room grew dim except for her. Despite the darkness of the bar and further shadows of the corner she sat in, she had a shine. I could see her clearly. When she gestured to me without a word, I came quickly to sit beside her.  The bartender came, though I barely noticed through the shadows, and I ordered a drink. She felt like when you meet someone in a dream. Has that ever happened to you? They say that every face you see in a dream is someone you’ve seen in real life. I see actors a lot. But have you ever seen someone in a dream that you’ve never seen in real life before? That’s what this felt like.  I took my face mask off to drink my own drink. Hers stayed on. Fair enough. You can’t be too careful these days. Fortunately, in the film industry they test actors, even background actors, every morning of every work day, so I was fairly confident of my own health. I also knew that in Japan, masks were more commonplace before the pandemic then they were in the states. They were worn in cities with heavy smog and were worn every flu season by some, so I didn’t think much of it.  There was a sense of mystery to her. Her eyes were as black as the night sky and I could sense no emotion in them. I didn’t even know what she looked like under her mask. I began to talk to the woman, asking her about herself, her name, occupation, and up close she was even more striking then afar. Her skin was smooth without even a wrinkle, almost like plastic or a piece of carved marble. Her hair shined like how a spider's web reflected light.  And her voice: it was rhythmic, never faltering in tone, almost hypnotic.  The alcohol put me in a daze, loosening me. Everything became subtle movements, ripples on water, a sort of merging of thought and action. Everything merged and formed and unformed. She told me she was originally from Japan, Tokyo to be exact. She had worked as a fashion model and had been fairly popular, appearing in all sorts of magazine advertisements. She had come to America recently for a fresh start. When I asked what from, she was less forthcoming and quickly changed the subject.  I told her a bit about myself, that I had lived in Japan for a time as a child, and I found as I talked to her that every location I mentioned, she knew. Different cities, even different islands, at one point or another she had been there and could recall exact details. It was almost scary. Memories long forgotten of those places came flooding back and I recalled a simpler, happier time. Back then I didn’t have to worry about anything “real”. I was a kid free to explore the world with the support of my parents to fall back on. Now, the world was colder and I was on my own. I offered to buy her a drink. She told me she was alright, and I wondered what she was doing in this bar if not drinking. I made a joke “just trying to get out of the rain, too?” “What rain?” She responded in deadpan. I couldn’t tell if she was joking or not. There were other odd things about her, though. At one point I mentioned how I had lived on an American military base in Japan and she spoke at length and in detail about the initial American occupation of Japan following WW2. The way she spoke about it, the descriptions, she knew things that meant she had to have either been over a hundred years old or an expert historian in her field.  I shook my head. I knew she was older than me, though from certain directions she occasionally looked a bit younger, but she couldn’t be that old. The most likely explanation was she had either a love of history or an older family member who had experienced those events and passed the story down. I asked her if she had any family in Japan, and she told me that she had once had a husband. She recalled how she had slaved away on the farm while he was away at war, but he had never trusted her. He had been a paranoid man and had come to believe with every fiber of his being that she was cheating on him with their hired farmhand. The way she talked about their home, her description of the paddy fields and the way the sun shined down on the water, it sounded like a story out of another time, centuries ago. Time became fluid. My mind wandered to thoughts of feudal Japan and the wars between different samurai houses. As my vision drew further and further into the black holes of her eyes it could have just as easily been happening then as in this exact instant. I could hear screams, blood, a hundred years of blood and rage and retribution. There could be no justice except in death.  Suddenly, I snapped back to reality. Her eyes glinted. I almost felt like she was smiling under the mask. She asked me if I would like to go outside with her. Her voice was like a whisper and nails on a chalkboard. I stood and followed her, slowly out the back door of the bar. I couldn’t feel my legs and I realized they had fallen asleep.  Her footsteps were heavy though her movements were like she was gliding. For a moment I swore she was looking at me with hate though her eyes. When I woke up I was standing beside her in the alley. My back was against the bricks of the wall as she stood before me. Rain streamed down from a metal overhang and puddles covered the cracked pavement. We were beside the garbage cans at the back exit to the bar. Something about her screamed at me the image of a predator.  “Do you think I’m beautiful?”, she repeated. I laughed nervously. “I do.” I responded.  I watched as she removed her face mask. In the light I could see her more clearly. Her pupils were tiny, hateful black pinpricks. She was as pale as a corpse. The wet hair clung to her, dripping. The mask came down after an eternity. Each second went on for hours until I finally saw the cracked porcelain of her face.  Her blood red lips were far wider than any humans and she had far too many teeth. I realized she had been cut from ear to ear by a blade. Her teeth and jaw were exposed through her cheeks. I watched as she pulled a massive pair of scissors from her coat pocket. They were by far the largest pair of scissors I had ever seen. Had she had those the whole time? Was this what had done this to her? Was she about to do the same to me? Something had gone horribly wrong.  Like a punch to the face I remembered. I remembered stories I had heard as a child living in Japan. Campfire tales, ghost stories told at sleepovers and on internet message boards: The Slit-Mouth Lady. In the 1970’s there had been such a panic about stories of the slit mouthed woman that teachers in Nagasaki began walking their students home for fear she would attack them on their routes back from school.  But she was an urban legend, not reality. There were many versions of the story. Though it had started in Japan, over time the story spread to Korea and other Asian nations. In older folklore, she was the adulterous wife of a samurai, though in another story she was his mistress. Either way, he had mutilated her in a rage. But she had returned, hadn’t she? Disguised with a fan she held below her eyes, she had returned to exact vengeance. In more recent stories she was horribly disfigured in a dental surgery gone wrong and she wore a medical mask to hide her injuries. In another she was a stalker of children who police chased into traffic, resulting in her facial injury.  In the 90’s she was a victim of botched plastic surgery. In others still she was a model, carved up by her jealous rival. She killed others with a knife or a sickle or yes, even a pair of scissors.  She couldn’t exist. She was a metaphor, a bedtime story to scare children, but looking at her, I could tell that somehow, every one of these stories could exist simultaneously. She lived in the whispers and nightmares, in the backs of throats that held back from saying her name. She was in the school bathrooms and locker rooms, following behind on the dark streets just out of view on a late night walk home, a stranger stopping you on a road through the forest late at night, and yes, she was there in the backs of alleys, in the back of every alley. She was in this alley, blocking the way out, holding a blade to me, blocking my escape, no way out, trapped like a cornered animal. Blood lips. Black eyes. Long hair. The bloody scissors! No escape! Her words tumbled out like a thousand spiders from between her lips. Her voice was a croaking death rattle. “Do you think I’m beautiful?”.  This is what it feels like to be a ghost story. I had left the ordered world behind. Truth had walked out the door and sensation had taken the wheel. All I wanted was to go back.  I struggled to focus instead of giving in to the urge to scream. She glided the scissors like a caress across my face. There was nowhere I could run. She had me trapped. How did the legends say you could escape her wrath?  “Uh… average”. Her eyes narrowed. She stared with confusion. Her scissor wielding hand lowered slightly as she faltered. I took my chance and I ran. I ran out of the alley and then I ran some more. I didn’t look back. I ran until I was out of breath and I kept running until I couldn’t stand.  I haven’t been back to that area since. I know though that it doesn’t matter. Her legend has spread now. I know she’s out there, part of the crowd, able to hide amongst us. She’s here and wherever a version of her story is told she will be there, ready to exact a bloody vengeance. I’ve started to wonder if it was all some kind of waking dream, but I don’t think it would matter if it was. When I close my eyes I can still see her. At night I lie awake, facing the wall, terrified that if I turn around I’ll see her standing in the corner or at the foot of my bed. Terrified that she’ll be there smiling with that cracked porcelain grin.  I’ve been careful not to speak of her to anyone until now, to keep her story from being told wherever I can. I realize now that it’s futile. Maybe, if I spread her legend, I can keep her away. Maybe by telling you all I can spread her out enough to improve my chances. Just know that if a woman like the one I described ever approaches you on your path, get out of there before she has a chance to show you her face...

Beware the light

xwtdrh

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xwtdrh/beware_the_light/

God, God, God. This place is my last hope. Please, please, please, if you are still around, answer, say something. I feel so lonely, even though I know i am not alone. I can see them far away, I can see them via the moonlight that escapes the clouds. They are sitting there, waiting. Waiting for me to go to sleep, waiting for me to distract myself for a moment. Waiting for a mistake. Thank God its a cloudfull night and there are no wild animals around. I think they are scared of them too. I have been using my phone on the lowest brightness possible to upload this , but I am still afraid. As time goes by, I am getting more and more paranoid. Why are they allowing me to upload? Why are they not attacking? Is this some kind of elaborate trap? Are they just taunting me? They know I am afraid of them and I am not going to lie here, I am. I am terrified. But you must know, for internet to still exist, that means someone is keeping the lights on and the machines running. This is why I am here, to tell you before its too late, TURN THE LIGHTS OFF. I know i sound like a madman, but, if you had experienced what I have the last few days, you would understand me completely. I cant stay awake for much longer,pain is too great too,one way or another i will be sleeping soon, but I feel the need to try and protect you. Every fiber of my existence hopes you heed my warning, there is still time for you. My name is Mark James Reever and this is my story. I am 22 years old and I study architecture in a major university. I am not going to mention which one, or exactly where I live, because there is a slight chance they can't leave and I won't risk any of you brave enough to come and see them yourselves. I know its a lot and I know you have no reason to, but I am asking you to trust me on this. Anyways, where was I? God I am so tireddd. No, I need to finish this. Last year was a Hell on Earth for me. For extra info, my parents never married, we were living all together but for some reason they never Married. This is important for later. My mom died in a horrific car accident, while the driver never stopped to help her ... It was so bad that we had to bury her in a closed casket. Not even a month passed from her death, when my father announced to me - came out, that he was gay and he was actually married with his husband and had two adoptive children, who I now must get used to call my family. Both Lucas (39)(the husband) and Mary(21) and Lily(14) are great people and I honestly like them, but I just don't feel them like family, unlike what my father demands to feel. They are all (except for my father) very understanding and I think they feel sorry for me too, so they gave me all the space I needed. Mary is living with her husband in a different house, while Lucas and Lily now live with us. I too never got upset with neither their sexuality, nor the married part. For some reason, it always felt like my father was off. The long trips for work every weekend (sales person), the entire weekdays he "had to visit his estranged family to try and make up with them", all those extra gifts he bought on Christmas and almost all the times he had to work in New years eve, because he was so important for the business. These and many more, just clicked. He was living a double life, one where my mother was the affair and I was.... the mistake? He says its not like that, they wanted me, he wanted me, but I don't know what to believe anymore. In the duration of the last few months, I came on a sort of depression. At first, I didn't want to participate in the big family events, then I started eating alone in my room. Then I stopped hanging out with my friends, I deleted my discord and begun ghosting everyone. I broke up with my gf over a silly disagreement and finally, I quit getting out of my room alltogether. My room is in a big old house, where there is a wc connected to the room and I bought with my last money a mini fridge, so, the only reason I had to go out of the room was when I wanted to refill it. Which I was doing every Monday at 8 am, because its the hour nobody else is at home. At first, it was movies, then online games and after those, offline games. I wanted my peace and quiet. Room had everything I needed and there was many times I wasn't exiting my room for whole days. Why should I anyways? For the first few months, my "family" actively tried to "help me". Nowadays, every couple of days Lucas is knocking on my door, trying to make some awkward conversation and Lily brings me every Tuesday some of her self made, chocolate cookies. She knocks three times and walk away. I open the door, take the cookies and leave my tablet on the floor, filled with whichever TV show Dad and Lucas has banned from her to watch because its not "kid friendly". Every week she leaves a note to the tablet about what she wants to see next. Its a little bro sis secret. Besides that, I don't have any interaction with the outside world . Tuesday came and my cookies never arrived. I know its not a deal with a contract, but it was happening every week for almost 6 months, so, as you can guess, it was strange. I wrote it off as nothing, and continued playing a game on my pc, until I went numb. Days passed and nobody bothered me. After being in my room for almost a week, my pc was off for days, my phone too, I was mostly thinking and sleeping, always with my noise canceling headphones , without having heard anything from the rest of the house, I, slowly, decided I could at least go check on Lily. I had literally sub zero mood to do anything, but something felt really off. I opened the blinds and saw it was night outside, hadn't really noticed. Well, I was so used to night by now, that I didn't even bother opening the lights, so, I opened the door and crept outside. You could hear no noices, nothing at all! Fear overtook me, fear of the unknown, a relic from an old age where you needed all your senses to survive and I felt like I wasn't alone. Someone was in there with me and that someone, I wasn't anxious of meeting. I used the coverage of total darkness to make it to the living room, my room is on second floor and the only way down is an old, stone staircase. I stopped halfway the staircase after I heard something. I heard a click sound. Now, I was sure there was someone in the house with me. At first I felt a relief, thinking that my sleep schedule was just that bad and everyone were simply a sleep, but the moment I reached the bottom of the stairs, my heart sank . The entire house was trashed, even walls were broken in some parts. In a closer look, it seemed like it was a lot fist like the holes, but, that's impossible, right? I immediately walked right to my Dads bedroom, to meet with the worse possible view I could see. Dad was on the ground, his body crushed into place, parts were torn apart and his head was sitting alone on the bed. Next to him was Lucas, with his double barrel shotgun on his hand and his own head crushed, like it was pushed inside, rest body nowhere to be seen. The view was so horrible that I threw up, then and there. Moments later, I went and picked up the shotgun, which by the way had one of the two guns fired. That felt strange, as I didn't notice anything on the wall and there were no bodies or blood for that matter in the living room. Without any real reason, I looked up and saw the light lamp destroyed, like, he was aiming at that. Why on earth would someone shoot a lamp? I continued to Lily’s room, which was empty. Not trashed, not bodies around, nothing. None of her things, none of her sheets, nothing ,nothing. It was like nobody had ever lived there. Was I so depressed I imagined the girls? The whole situation after the accident? Should I really visit a therapist? What is happening? As I was walking out of the room, I tripped over a plate, my cookies plate. No, I wasn't imagining things, my sister exists! What was until then desperation, turned to anger. With the gun in my hands, I begun shouting Lilys name, without carrying if there were intruders in the house. My family, my weird family was under attack and I was going to defend them! I spent hours looking around the house, all in the black, because as I found out, the light panel outside of the house was also shot. I had no idea what was happening, but I was honestly furious. I didn't even realize when the sky turned red, due to the rise of the sun. What really startled me was a scream out of the blue. I ran out and saw a woman in the road, getting viciously attacked by many shadows? They had the face of an animal, like wolf, body like human but taller.... And they were like they were made by shadows. In mere seconds they devoured the unlucky woman, leaving only the head behind, before turning their attention towards me. I shouted. I told them to not come closer. They lunged. I shot the gun and tripped, bullets flew through them like they weren't there. They got me pinned down and begun hitting me. My God, their teeth, so big, so many, more than any living thing should have. I was for sure goner that moment, if not for the side of the wall that gave up and fall. They momentarily left me and I crawled inside the house and with huge pain run and hid under the bed in my Dads bedroom . They all walked around the bed, like waiting for me to get out, but nobody actually pulled me. They begun screeching inhuman sounds, horrible sounds and hitting the walls , but I didn't give up. For some reason, they couldn't get me. Like the vampires, that need invitation to come inside your house? What was I supposed to do, invite them under the bed? I sat there dumbfounded for hours, till I fall asleep. When I woke up, I was alone again and it was night outside. I got out of the bed, my body hurt like hell and then I realized, they had destroyed the walls inside the room. I turn around and I was hit and tossed to the other side of the room. They were there! Moonlight was shining through the holes and with every light, I could see one of them, standing in front of me. Light fall under the bed too and in moments one of them appeared below the bed and in moments utterly destroyed it. It was my last defense and they knew it. In that moment I understood everything. The DARK. They couldn't enter the dark. Darkness was my only safety. And I had almost run out of it. I crawled in the little corner I was stuck, so not an inch of me exits the safety of the darkness, which was really uncomfortable. And then, we waited. All night they stood in front of me, like statues and watched me. All night I was watching them and praying nobody smashes the wall from the outside. I don't know why they couldn't do that, nor when I was under the bed. I have a theory, that when someone is hiding in the darkness, it sort of work as armor and they can't destroy the shadow spot, as long as there is no light there. After sitting on the same spot for almost 8 full hours, my body hurt tremendously. My bowl gave up, on that spot too, but I was surprised it didn't gave up hours ago to be honest. It was a pain full night, that turned into a more painful day. A cloudy day, but instead t of just ten monsters with the moonlight, now were thousands. All there, all waiting. Those were the 30 most painful hours of my life. As soon as night came again, it was a cloudy night too. Clouds prevented moon from shining there,so, darkness was wining. Some higher power was rooting for me. I saw my chance and crawled out of that house, no longer could move my legs out of so many hours sitting still. I crawled to the little forest beside my house and my neighbors, Mr Flanins house. There are no sounds, not children, not animals, nothing. Its like everything is hiding.... Or everything is dead. I will be soon too. The brief tossing battle with them probably did me a good one. I thought I couldn't move my legs because of sitting. Now I can't even feel them. My ribs hurt too much, I am no doctor, but it feels bad too. I haven't eaten or drunk anything for almost two days too. Clouds slowly are giving away and with the light I see more now. Soon it will come for me too. I don't have long now. I see them, but I also see the houses. They are broken, I see guns, I see police vehicles, I even see a tank or two. I don't know if this is because of my deteriorating body and mind, but it seems like a battle happened. Or tried to happen. We lost. I don't know where they came from or why, but I know they came with the light. I hope its not too late for you.... Beware the light!

The Cologne Girl

xwl171

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xwl171/the_cologne_girl/

This story takes place a few months before the end of my senior year in high school. I have changed the names for anonymity. I feel like I was an average kid, pretty-well liked. I had a close group of 5 friends and we were always together, but we had a larger group of friends that constituted our circle, maybe 25 of us. We partied every weekend, took trips out to Eric’s parents beach house, tried to have as much fun as possible before college started. I was between girlfriends at the time and always wore my favorite cologne, it was fairly expensive but girls always commented on how good it smelled. One day, while watching a football scrimmage in the stadium bleachers, I noticed a girl staring at us from several rows down. I couldn’t be sure but it seemed like she was looking at me. I smiled at her and she looked away. She was average height with long brown hair, pretty but awkward. I couldn’t remember seeing her anywhere else before, but our school was pretty big so I thought nothing of it. I noticed she kept looking back at me throughout the scrimmage, and I thought it was weird she wasn’t with anybody as this wasn’t really an official school event. Over the next couple of weeks I would see that same girl pretty often. I started to notice that when I caught her glance she would be closer to me than the last time I had seen her. One day, I was with my buddy Aaron at our favorite local café having lunch when I noticed that same girl was sitting in a booth 2 rows over from us. She kept looking up at me from behind her menu. I asked Aaron if he knew who she was and he shrugged it off and got up to go to the restroom. I decided to approach the girl and ask who she was, but when I started to get closer to her I smelled it. The smell was so strong it almost hurt my nose; it was cologne, the same cologne I always wear. It smelled like she had bathed in it. I recoiled from the smell, and she just looked up at me and says, “Hi Justin. Don’t you like the way it smells?”. All I could muster what a muffled “why?”. She hesitated before saying, “it reminds me of you when I’m not close enough to smell you”. I immediately dropped cash on our table and ran outside, texting Aaron to meet me at the car. How did she know my name? How long has she been following me? The wording really creeped me out, “when I’m not close enough to smell you”. That made me think that she was never too far away. When Aaron came out I told him what happened. He just laughed and mocked me. He said I was being dramatic, that the girl obviously just knew who I was from school and that she was just a weirdo. Maybe it was a prank or something, but I couldn’t shake a sinking feeling in my gut. It was the look in her eyes, cold but piercing. The next weekend we were all heading out to Eric’s parents beach house for a night of drinking, playing beer pong and whatever other debauchery we could get in to. The whole trip was spent trying to get the girl out of my mind, while my buddies just made fun of me for it all. Their lighthearted jabs helped, and I was able to loosen up as we set up for the party. Fast forward a few hours later and we were all having a blast. The nearest residence was pretty far off and we were able to blast music as loud as we wanted through the outside speakers. We had a big table set up on the ground floor for drinking games and a keg sitting on the back porch. A girl stumbled up from the path leading to the beach, complaining about the smell coming from the patch of bushes that sat on the edge of where the sand started. Nobody paid much attention to her, but about an hour later me and Amanda, a girl I had been talking to, decided to take a walk along the water. When we reached the bushes at the end of the path, the smell hit us. Amanda screeched with disgust. “What the hell is that?”. I knew what it was though, and it was even stronger than the first time I smelled it. “Go back inside, quick!”, I told Amanda. But before we could leave, the girl with the long brown hair emerged from the bushes holding a large kitchen knife. “Don’t you like the smell Justin? I did it for you”, she said. “Who are you?” I shouted as Amanda ran back to the house. She looked at me with those cold, piercing eyes, and slowly said, “I knew you would be with that whore, but don’t worry, I’ll take care of her”. My mind was reeling with confusion and my fear suddenly turned to anger. I lunged at her to grab the knife, but she was too quick. She slashed my leg open and then hit me in the head with the butt of the knife. She began trying to drag me into the bushes but luckily by this time Aaron, Luke, and Eric were running over to us. She quickly let go and ran into the night. By the time the police arrived she was nowhere to be found, but in the bushes where she had been hiding the police found zip ties, duct tape, and a diary filled with pictures of me. It turns out the girl’s name was Lucy and she had been following me for over a year. She had been writing about how we were going to run away and build a house together. She had detailed plans of how she was going to kill Amanda, my ex, and all the other girls I had talked to over the last year. There were at least ten pages that just had my name scrawled across them hundreds of times. I had lost quite a bit of blood and had to go to the hospital for stitches. Over the next few days I couldn’t stand the thought of Lucy coming to my house to finish what she started so I stayed over at Aaron’s house. A week after the beach house incident, Amanda’s neighbor had called the police about a suspicious looking girl lurking around Amanda’s house. The police found Lucy trying to crawl through a window, this time all she had on her was a knife and a bottle of cologne. I’m not sure how much jail time she served for all of this, but it definitely wasn’t enough. I graduated and went to college across the country without any further incident. Four years later I got my bachelors degree and bought a house with my now fiancé. Even after these years I still don’t buy that cologne, I can’t bring myself to relive that incident. Two days ago, I went to leave for work at 6:30am. I opened my front door to find a wrapped package, no note, no return address, just a kiss mark. I rubbed the mark with my thumb and the lipstick rubbed off; this was fresh. I didn’t see anybody on the street. I took the package in and opened it. There was only one thing inside; a bottle of cologne.

Journal Entries from the Reservation #1

xwe3r5

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xwe3r5/journal_entries_from_the_reservation_1/

Hey there. This seems like the best place to post these because it's not like anyone else believes me. Just want to say, I made it out. These are entries from my old journal. It was the only think I got out of there with. I figured...even if they don't cause a stir or prevent anything, maybe they'd make for some good light reading. Also, if you end up in there...try to remember what you've read here. I didn't make it out of there out of just luck. If you have any specific questions, I'll be glad to answer them for you. Always down to help anyway I can. -Sam **Entry #1** No one knows how we got here. Sure, everyone’s got a theory, but no one really knows. Funny enough, no one knows how long it’s been since we got here either. Everyone’s got a different count of the days. Some people stopped keeping count, said it would drive them crazy. Those who do try to track the days always have that different number. Two years, seven months, and somewhere in between. On top of all the things that no one knows is one really horrifying fact: how many are here? We know there are no kids, there are no elderly. Everyone I’ve met was in their 20’s or so. Youngest person I’ve met said it was his 20th birthday when he woke up here. Oldest was a girl who said she was 28. One of the guys in my camp goes by Lando, like the character. He looks like him too. Anyways, his theory is a bunch of aliens pulled up all the “healthiest humans” to save us from some planet destroying disaster and put us here to save the species. Makes a lotta sense until you remember that no one can get pregnant here. Claire and Xander have definitely been testing that, no luck. Also, if a bunch of aliens put us here to save the species, why would they put predators in here? Lots of them too. Our camp has only existed about 5 months, and we must have taken out dozens of them. Some camps have tried to clear them out, to get rid of them all. Now, most people think that, just like the forest, they never end. So, an unknown amount of people in an unknown forest of unknown size for unknown amount of time facing an unknown amount of monsters…what could go wrong? What do we know? Not much. We know there are a lot of humans here. My camp has about 20. Some are bigger, some are smaller. We’ve heard stories of a city somewhere far east called Clearing that had thousands. That doesn’t seem realistic to me, but none of this does. That’s another thing, how are there that many people? Even if they teleported all the humans in their 20’s on earth here, how many would there really be? How many Americans and Europeans? I’ve only met a few non-Americans out of the hundred or so people I’ve talked too. Most were from Europe. One guy was from Niger but spoke English. I thought I found my first outlier. but it turns out he was in NYC on a tourist vacation when he woke up in the forest. Maybe it’s just people that were in the US, right? Nope. Get this, one of the Europeans I talked to? She was in Niger as a member of Doctors without Borders. It was kind of funny those two found each other. Abdul and Nicky ended up following me to this camp when everything went bad at Riverside. It wasn’t really a camp back then. We found this flat piece of land with a pretty low tree density and got to work. There were six of us back then. We’ve grown. I guess they look at me as a leader now, maybe the only leader. I don’t know if I really want that. I’ve had a bunch of group leaders over the last few months. Shit always goes sideways. The camp leader at Riverside got absolutely shredded while he was fishing. One of the water creatures just tore him to shreds. I have no clue why I’d want the same thing to happen to me. That’s part of the reason I haven’t been fishing since. Our camp mainly survives off trapping some of the…friendlier…creatures here. Although, I’m not sure if you could call them that truthfully. One of the newer guys to the camp, Zach, is obsessed with roads. I mean, it’s kind of weird. He has this whole speech he goes into about how important roads are for communities and he’ll go on and on and on. He’d been begging for us to go to the nearest encampment and talk about building a road between the two of us. It sounded silly to most of us. I mean, the nearest camp is at least 10 miles west. Probably more. We’d only been there once. Ten miles of clearing forest debris and trees and marking a path sounded like a lot of hard work for nothing. The only reason we agreed to see how it goes is because...well…what else did we have to do? We hadn’t made it two miles west before we got an encounter. Only 6 of us went. Me, Abdul, Nicky, Lando, Zach, and this one guy James. James was a newer addition to our team. He didn’t talk much besides simple sentences and responses. Always figured I’d get to know him when I got the chance. Never got that. The bat-things came down on us out of nowhere. Normally they’re only active at night, but we must have walked through a nest of them or something. The rest of us knew what to do: freeze. The bat-things don’t have a lot in common with actual bats. They’re much bigger, have claws instead of…whatever bats normally have. They kind of look like gargoyles if their wings were on there arms. Anyways, one thing they have in common is that they are blind as a… well you get the idea. They track by hearing or something. Figured out early on that if you don’t move they can’t see you. No one told James apparently. I have no idea how he made it that far without knowing this. It’s kind of a 2+2 type of thing. So well-known no one thinks to say it. They were on him in seconds. Pretty soon he was drained and then the 30% or so left of him was left in a heap on the ground. The five of us waited around for a bit and, when it was clear, we went back to camp. Zach keeps saying he wants to try again, but all of us are more than a little frustrated at him right now. The idea was stupid, and I was stupid for going along with it. The people in camp are blaming Zach for getting James killed, but it was me who gave the okay. That’s pretty much it for tonight. It’s been a long day. I’ll write something else in here at some point, I’m sure of it. Not much else to do. One things for sure: no more fucking roads. [Chapter 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xxems5/journal_entries_from_the_reservation_2/)

I'm a police detective and I found a strange journal in a missing person's bedroom. Can you help me make sense of it?

xvr1vu

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xvr1vu/im_a_police_detective_and_i_found_a_strange/

I’m a police detective assigned to a rather strange case. We just got a warrant to search a house owned by a man and woman named Jim and Kay Boyd. I’ve been searching through their things and haven’t found much of anything. Until I got to their daughter’s room. I found a journal there, and I read most of it. Things just aren’t adding up for me. I’m typing it all up here in hopes someone can make some sense of it. I’m breaking some major confidentiality laws, but I just can’t keep this to myself anymore. Here’s what’s written: ​ On her tenth birthday, Edie Boyd decided to go for a walk.  It was four o’clock in the evening and no one even remembered it was her birthday. Not her dad. Not her mom. Not her friends. Not even Mrs. Penny wished her the obligatory “happy birthday” on the whiteboard at school just like she did for every other student. Edie was invisible. No matter how much her feelings were hurt, though, she didn’t say a word to anyone. When she got home after school, her mom and dad were arguing again. Something about bills and money, but Edie didn’t care enough to listen too closely. Her parents would almost always argue everyday, and it was beginning to wear her down. Money this, money that. Her parents never had any or they never had enough.  The reason for that was simple: her father could never hold down a job long enough to keep a steady paycheck. Her mom, on the other hand, could never get a job at all. She was always too busy smoking something in the morning to knock her out for the rest of the day or taking pill after pill in the evening to keep her up all night. Edie would sometimes wake up in the middle of the night to find her mom rummaging through her bedroom, looking for who knows what in her chest of drawers. The only things in there were the few pairs of underwear Edie had and some socks that had holes in the toes. If her mom was looking for money or drugs, Edie sure wasn’t harboring any in her room. Her mom had been too crazy to talk some sense into, though. She searched anyway. For as long as she could remember, Edie’s life had been this way. Her parents were always neglectful, and even when they did notice her, it was always to yell at her or blame her for something she didn’t do. There were many times she’d gone to school wearing tattered clothes and clothes that were too cold for the weather. She didn’t own a coat, only long-sleeved t-shirts and small cardigans that didn’t keep her warm in the winter.  Sometimes winters in the south could get balmy and freezing. They’d had cases of ice storms that knocked the power out once or twice and Edie almost froze to death during those. Her parents had been too preoccupied with themselves to even throw her a blanket.  Her teachers had noticed. Even Mrs. Penny. They’d often send her to the youth service center in her school where they’d give her secondhand coats and packages of socks and underwear and sometimes grocery bags of food. She had always been grateful for those things, but most of the time her mom took the clothes and she was stuck without anything to keep her warm again. Sometimes she showed up to school with bruises all over her body. They would dot her legs and arms like constellations in the sky. Sometimes it would pain her to walk, and she would limp to the playground during recess time with all the other kids in her class. Kids who had normal, loving parents. CPS had been called, but nothing had been done about her situation. Edie had been taken out of her home on one occasion and she’d gotten to live with a nice family who had a nice, big, soft bed for her with a thick, warm comforter. But she only stayed there for a week before her parents earned custody of her again.  CPS never came back and Edie learned to fend for herself. When she stepped into the house, neither one of Edie’s parents saw her set her worn knapsack with a large hole in the bottom on a kitchen chair, grab a dry biscuit her mom made for breakfast yesterday from the counter, and walk out the front door. She picked at the biscuit, pieces crumbling onto the ground as she made her way into the tree shrouded area behind her house. It was too small to be a forest because a couple miles in and she’d be on the other side of town next to the school. It was how Edie managed to get herself there in the morning. Her parents couldn’t take her; her mom was either passed out on the couch or whispering to herself in the corner and her dad was busy finding a new job. Neither one had cared enough to call the school and set up a bus pick-up and drop off. Instead, she walked to school every morning and walked back home every evening.  As she ate the biscuit, she walked further into the trees, wishing she had brought some water along with her. The biscuit was so dry, the second it touched her tongue she could feel the moisture in her mouth drying up. She could hear a swishing sound in the distance; a warm summer wind brushed past her cheek. This was the one place she felt was home in the peace and quiet away from everyone and everything. Away from her parents arguing. Away from all the noise and all her problems. Out here in the woods, Edie was something. She was a part of nature.  She took a deep breath and shoved the dry biscuit into her jeans pocket. Her stomach let out a low rumble, signaling the hunger blossoming within her belly. The biscuit was all the food she would probably get tonight.  Edie looked down as she continued to walk, wondering if her parents were still arguing back at her house. She’d been gone for at least fifteen minutes. Had they noticed her things yet? She stepped over stick after stick, avoiding them in case they happened to be a snake in disguise. Surely she could tell the difference though. One had shiny scales, the other rough, discolored bark. The more she avoided them, the quicker she hopped through the woods, bounding over fallen tree limb after fallen tree limb. She hopped onto stumps and jumped from those to piles of leaves, creating a game for herself— the classic floor is lava game. She pretended the grass patches were where the lava was hottest, avoiding those altogether. If there was a patch of leaves, she could step there, but only for a short period of time because those represented thin sheets of metal floating on the lava river. The tree stumps and some thick branches were considered safe spaces where she could take time to collect her balance. She jumped, skipped, and rolled through the woods, careful to avoid the bare patches of grass. She was doing fine up until she caught her toes on a stump, which she thought was a lot shorter than expected. She fell face forward onto the ground, head hitting a patch of grass she had been narrowly trying to avoid. She was lying flat on her stomach trying to catch her breath. The fall had knocked the wind out of her and she felt like she’d been hit with a football going fifty miles per hour square in the stomach.  She’d half fallen into a mud puddle; her legs and feet were now caked with clumps of mud and dirt, staining her jeans a dark brown and earthy green. She’d never be able to wash them well enough for the stains to come out. When she had managed to get onto her knees, she could see the full extent of the damage. Just what Edie expected. A hole had also been torn into the left knee of her jeans. They were ruined. Her favorite pair of pants.  Edie sighed and lifted her head, peering at the trail ahead of her. The sun was low in the sky and shining right in her direction, directly in her eyes. She had to squint to see. She heard it before she saw it though. A small hiss. A slither. The rustling of leaves as the reptile pushed its way through the underbrush.  A small snake lifted its head to meet Edie face-to-face. Its dark brown scales shimmered in the sunlight, illuminating a thick coat of skin. Edie sat still as stone as she watched it flick its tongue out again and again to taste the fear in the air. Edie didn’t dare move. She knew if she did, the snake would strike, and she’d be a goner. She knew what kind of snake this was. A cottonmouth. She’d read about them in the encyclopedia at the library. Cottonmouth venom prevents the blood in humans from clotting which therefore leads to hemorrhaging. If she was bitten, she knew she’d never make it to the hospital. Especially if her parents were still arguing. They wouldn’t care that she was about to meet Death.  Edie gulped down the lump of fear rising in her throat. She didn’t move or break eye contact. The snake was ready to strike, and with one slight movement, the snake would latch on to her. The reptile swayed its head back and forth, ready to strike. Edie had all but stopped breathing.  What was she going to do? How was she going to get out of this? If she had just stayed home and went to her room, then she wouldn’t be in this kind of trouble. She wouldn’t be face-to-face with a venomous snake.  Then she thought of the biscuit in her pocket, which led to her thinking the snake might be hungry and that was why it was eyeing her up and down like she was going to be its next meal. How was she going to get to the biscuit though? She moved her right hand slowly, maintaining eye contact with the snake. Any sudden movements would cause it to lunge at her. She had seen situations like this before, heard about them from the kids at school. Edie was moving so slowly she thought it would take her hours to pull the biscuit out of her pocket. But somehow she managed to make contact with it. Part of it had fallen apart in her pocket, leaving a pile of crumbs in its wake. She gently pulled it out, adjusting the biscuit in the palm of her hand. She slowly held it out before the snake.  Within seconds the snake struck at the biscuit in her hand, sending it flying to the ground. Edie jumped in surprise, terrified it would lunge at her again. But it didn’t. Instead the snake was feasting on the biscuit, having forgotten all about Edie. Just like everyone else. Anger welled inside her chest. No matter what she did or said, she was forgettable by everyone and everything. She got to her feet, stomping over to the snake. Before it could swallow the biscuit whole, she snatched the biscuit from its grasp and shoved the whole thing into her mouth, venom drippings and all.  Edie instantly regretted it at first because the biscuit was so dry and her mouth was parched. She needed water. She regretted it even more when she thought the snake would bite her, pierce her skin with its venom. But it didn’t. Instead, it lifted its head to look at her. She swore she could see sadness in its beady eyes. She felt guilty having shoved the entire biscuit into her mouth. The dryness paired with the judging glare from the snake was enough to make her cry, a tear sliding down her cheek.  Eventually, she couldn’t take it anymore and hightailed it out of the woods, running in the opposite direction away from the snake. She’d spit the biscuit somewhere on the ground on her way back home, unable to swallow the huge clump of dry dough that had mushed together in her mouth.  She kept running until she saw her house appear in the distance, a wave of relief washing over her. For once in her life she was glad to see that familiar dirty, white vinyl with a massive hole underneath the back window. She could see the damage on the roof where her dad had tried to patch some leaks.  “Where the hell have you been, Ed?” Her dad asked when she threw herself through the front door. “You’s s’posed to be home an hour ago.” Edie looked at him. His eyes were bloodshot and wide with anger. He was breathing heavily and his mouth was parted, revealing the bottom row of his teeth jutted out from a severe overbite. His cheeks were red and pockmarked, a product of arguing with her mom, who was nowhere to be seen at that moment. Her dad’s white t-shirt had been torn, like someone had tried to rip it off him, and his jeans hung low on his hips, revealing the band of a pair of Fruit of the Loom boxers underneath.  Instead of offering up an explanation, Edie ignored her dad and went straight to her room, shutting the door behind her.  “Edie!” Her dad yelled. She didn’t want to face her dad’s wrath for not listening to him, but she couldn’t take the added stress. Edie threw herself onto the bed and closed her eyes, hoping for sleep to take her instead.  —— Over the next few days, Edie hadn’t been allowed to go to school. After she had ignored her dad, she took a beating and punishment of being locked in her room. She was only allowed out to use the bathroom and drink water. Those were the worst three days of her life. She had a bruise the size of her dad’s fist on her cheekbone, sore to the touch. Her stomach rumbled with hunger on and off for those three days, and the longer she went without food, the more her stomach hurt.  But one thing that lingered in her mind during those three days was the snake she met in the woods. She thought about him to help get her mind off things at home. She wondered if he was still there, if he was still hungry. Albert, it’s what she decided to call him, in remembrance of the stray cat she once had as a pet for a week, but then disappeared shortly after.  When she regained her freedom, she decided to take a plate of food into the woods with her, hoping to see the snake again. This time she’d packed an array of foods. Some grapes, lunch meat and cheese, another dry biscuit, and some chocolate. She knew snakes ate small prey, but she didn’t have any field mice around to bring Albert, so she settled on what was in the scant fridge at home.  She took the same route through the woods as she did three days ago, although this time she chose not to play that stupid child’s game that got her hurt and ruined her jeans.  She walked and walked, looking at the ground for any signs of the snake. But she never found one. Albert had probably slithered off somewhere far away after their meeting. Why would a snake stay around in hopes of Edit bringing it food? He was a reptile, not a human. She scoffed and silently laughed at herself. How could she have been so stupid? She sat down on a big rock next to where she tripped the last time playing floor is lava. She picked at the lunch meat, taking bird bites of everything else. Although she was starving, she felt she was too sick to eat anything too substantial.  She heard a slither somewhere close, a brushing of leaves and grass. Was it Albert? Edie searched the ground, looking for the snake. He was so dark, he matched the color of the ground. It was difficult to tell if she was looking at him until he raised his head from the underbrush just like he had the first time. “Albert,” she said, relieved. The snake had stayed in the spot. It made her wonder why, but she tried not to think too deeply about it. Maybe she had made a friend in this lonely snake.  Albert slithered his tongue in and out as if in reply. He didn’t try to strike her or lunge at her. In fact, he looked happy to see her. Edie could tell in the way he was bobbing his head back and forth. She smiled, grabbing a piece of the lunch meat. She pushed it toward Albert and he took a piece from her. She took a bit in turn.  They shared the plate of food until only crumbs remained. Edie would feed a bit to Albert and then she would take a bit. They continued with that pattern until the plate was empty. When it was though, Edie frowned. She had no more food to give to Albert. But he stayed in the same place, full and satisfied. She reached her hand out to pat his head with two fingers. The scales were cold and slimy to the touch. She recoiled at the sensation, and Albert withdrew into a coil on the ground, slithering away in the underbrush.  Edie felt like she hadn’t spent all but twenty minutes with him and now she had scared him away. A tear fell down her cheek, and another, and another, until she was sobbing. The one thing she had managed to get to notice her she had scared away.  She sniffed, wiping under her nose with the back of her hand. Edie would come back the next day with even more food. And the next day. And the next day. She and Albert would become best friends.  She was sure of it. —— Edie kept to her word and returned the next day with even more lunch meat, cheese, fruit, and bread. She would feed Albert a bite, then she would take a bite. The pattern continued like that everyday until her parents started noticing food was missing from the fridge and pantry.  “Edie Joanna Boyd, you’re eatin’ us out of house and home,” he dad grumbled at her, slamming the fridge door shut. “Where are you puttin’ it all? You ain’t big as nothin’.” Her heart jumped into her throat. What was she going to say? How was she going to lie her way out of this? “I just get hungry after school is all,” she replied, picking at the cuticles on her nails. She was working on a loose piece of skin on her finger, picking and picking at it until she could feel the blood start pouring out of her. She lifted her finger to her mouth, sucking and licking the wound clean. The familiar taste of metal coated her tongue. “Edie, girl.” Her mom’s raspy voice trailed up the hallway. She was coming into the kitchen to join them. “That’s the only food we got until next month, ya hear? Don’t be wastin’ what we got.” Edie had been taking the bare minimum in hopes they wouldn’t notice. She was wrong once again. Her parents always noticed the small things if it affected them directly, never if it only affected her.  “Listen to yer momma,” her dad pointed his big index finger toward her chest. “Go to your room.” “Yes, sir,” she said and made her way down the hall, sidestepping where her mother stood. Edie could feel her wide, wild eyes never waver from her small frame. She walked a little fast down the hall and into her room. She shut the door behind her, threw herself onto her decades old mattress on the floor, and cried and cried until she couldn’t open her eyes. —— After yesterday’s debacle, Edie decided she was going to see Albert one more time. She hadn’t gotten to see him the day before because her parents confronted her about the missing food. She hadn’t wanted to add fuel to the fire because God knows she would have received the beating of a lifetime.  Edie wrapped two slices of bread, a slice of ham and cheese loaf, and a couple of grapes in a paper towel and made her way to the back door. She closed it quietly behind her, hoping not to wake her parents. They’d still been asleep since it was Saturday— even if it was one o’clock in the afternoon. She skipped down the back porch steps, careful not to drop her sandwich and grapes. She looked ahead and almost felt like she could hear the woods whispering to her, beckoning for her to come inside and find Albert and stay there forever. She wanted to, but then what would happen to her? Her parents wouldn’t care— she knew that for certain. But someone at school would call the police, report her missing. She just wanted to be left alone. Or maybe they would forget about her entirely. She was invisible after all. Edie trekked forward into the woods to the secret spot where she and Albert shared meals. She found him curled up perfectly where she left him the last time. “Hey, buddy,” Edie said, excitement lighting up in her eyes and tone of voice. She was glad to see her friends again.  As soon as he recognized her voice, Albert lifted his head and began bobbing it back and forth as if he was excited to see her too. “I’ve got some more goodies for us.” Edie balanced herself into a sitting position on the big rock she always sat on. She carefully unwrapped the bread, meat, and grapes, grabbing a slice of bread first.  She took a small bite and then offered it to Albert who struck at the bread, tearing a piece from the slice. Edie smiled, taking another bite. She switched to the ham and cheese loaf next, sharing the slice with Albert. Back and forth, back and forth. Edie would chew her bite and Albert would swallow his. They’d almost finished eating everything when she heard a rustle of leaves and branches to her left.  Edie jerked her head to the side to see the giant form of her dad appear in the clearing. His cheeks were red and a bead of sweat dripped down his forehead. In his hand he held a big, rusty machete. He must have used it to slash through branches and shrubbery. He was a big man; he couldn’t fit through the woods like Edie could. “You thievin’, connivin’ little bitch,” he seethed through his teeth clamped together. His jaw tightened more and more the longer Edie stared at him. “I shoulda known you was up to no good.” He started toward her and Edie let go of the paper towel, rising to her feet, scrambling to get away from her dad.  “What the hell do you think this is? Your feedin’ a snake? A snake, Edie? What is wrong with you?” She stumbled backward as her dad reached for her arm. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Albert slithering into a defensive stance. He was scared just as much as she was. He looked like he would strike at her dad any second. He grabbed Edie’s wrist, squeezing it tightly. She tried to pull away, to no avail. “Dad,” she said, exasperated. “Please, it’s not what it looks like.” “I don’t give a damn what it looks like,” he growled, pulling Edie toward him. “It’s stopping right now.”  Edie’s dad stepped to the left, dragging Edie with him. She tried to pull away but he was so strong and she was so small. In one fell swoop, Albert lunged at her dad in an attempt to bite him, send venom through his system. He was still a cottonmouth after all. Her dad was too quick for him though. He swung the machete just as his head almost made contact with the skin on his bare upper arm. He sliced his head clean off. And within seconds Albert was dead. Edie stared down at his slithering body. It was still writhing like a worm on the ground. But he was dead, she knew he was. Snakes were known to move around long after they were dead, but they couldn’t survive without a head. Nothing could.  Her first best friend in years was dead. Her dad had killed him.  “Come on,” her dad yanked her hard, almost sending her falling to the ground. “No outside privileges for a while. If you think you can steal our food and get away with it, you’ve got another thing coming.” Edie tried to yank her arm out of his grasp, but he was way too strong. She could see the veins popping out of his muscles in the strain. As he continued to force her out of the woods, Edie let the grief and pain take over. Her stomach was in knots; she couldn’t breathe. Albert was dead. And so was she. She passed out before they made it out into the clearing. —— Days passed and Edie couldn’t tell if it was daylight or dark anymore. She was let out of her room three times a day to go to the bathroom. Her mom or dad brought her water a few times throughout the days and food only once a day. It was rough, and she didn’t know how long she would have to be locked in her own room, forced to lay here and stare at the ceiling. She cried everyday for her friend Albert. She wondered if his thin, lifeless body was still lying there out in the open or if some other animal had carried it off.  She got sicker and sicker everyday. When her parents brought her food, she would just push it out of the way and not touch it. Not even a bite. She could feel her stomach growing inward, eating itself and her muscles. Her skin grew pale and her cheeks were sallow. She was so weak she could barely lift herself out of bed. When she did eat, nothing made her feel better or stronger. Several days into her prison stay, she knocked on her own door. “Dad,” she said, out of breath. “I think something’s wrong. I think I need to see a doctor.” But they ignored her, grumbled something about her being selfish from the living room, and she slumped her weak body against the door. Her head lolled to the side. She didn’t have the strength to lift it up. She didn’t even have the strength to cry. She was fading and her parents weren’t going to do anything about it. She closed her eyes and thought about Albert. She thought about eating all those slices of bread and lunch meat and fruit. She thought about feeding him a bite after she had eaten some. They ate after each other a lot, and she knew she was ingesting venom with every bite she took after Albert.  The venom would enter her system and float around in her bloodstream, making her one with Albert. They had shared more than friendship; they shared a part of one another as well.  When Edie’s dad had killed Albert, she wasn’t exaggerating when she said that he had killed her too. Because that’s what was happening. She was dying because Albert was dead.  It was just taking a lot longer because she was a lot bigger than Albert.  The days went by slower and slower until eventually her parents opened her bedroom door and Edie was passed out on the floor, pale and barely breathing.  Her parents were worried then. They worried they had starved her to death. What would the police do to them then? Would they get arrested? How were they going to get out of this? Instead of rushing her to the hospital, Edie’s dad took her out into the woods, carrying her limp body in his arms. Each breath she took in was shorter and smaller. She was close to death, she could feel it.  Edie’s dad walked for a while until eventually he stopped. Edie was able to open her eyes briefly to see that they were in her and Albert’s spot. The spot where they ate together everyday. The spot where they became one in the same. She was fading in and out of consciousness, but she could still hear her dad grunting and working. She could hear the slice of metal sliding into the ground and the cracking of roots being separated from their homes. Splatters of dirt rained down on her face from time to time. Her dad was digging.  He scooped and scooped rocks and dirt for what felt like hours, pounding his shovel into the gray ground. Eventually though, he stopped, and all was silent for a few moments. Edie reveled in the silence, silently hoping for death to take her. Her dad lifted her up, but he wasn’t careful; she could feel her hands knocking into the side of the rock she used to sit on when she fed Albert. He wasn’t careful when he threw her into the hole he’d dug for her makeshift grave either.  Once she was in the hole, she didn’t move. She couldn’t; her body was too weak. She did feel something flop on top of her, though, and she pretended her dad was burying her with Albert. That he’d had the courtesy of throwing her best friend into the grave with him. She tried to move her hand to touch him; to make sure it was actually him and not just a pile of dirt. But she couldn’t muster enough energy to even wiggle her fingers. This was it for Edie. She was about to die. But she was ready. A small smile played on the edges of her lips. She drew in one last breath and thought of Albert before slowly letting her soul leave her body forever. Just as she withered away quietly, though, she could feel her dad covering her body and Albert’s up with dirt.  She was gone.  ​ Edie Boyd has been missing for weeks now. No one has seen or heard from her. A police force and rescue squad have gone to dig up the area we think was written in her journal. We all thought it was written by her, but why is it written in third person? And more importantly, how was she able to continue writing if she was dead?

My girlfriend and I went to an old drive-in theater. Now I think we're being followed.

xw0i69

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xw0i69/my_girlfriend_and_i_went_to_an_old_drivein/

Two weeks ago, me and my girlfriend Paige decided to drive up into Canada and spend the weekend in Montreal. It was a good trip, but I can’t deny that what happened on the drive there put us on edge. It was something of a relief to head home that Monday morning, with the unspoken agreement that we wouldn’t make any more random stops. On the Friday evening we were driving through forests with the windows down. The strip of sky between the trees was a dreamy pink. The evergreens smelled sharp and cool. Paige was laughing, trying to teach me French phrases which I purposefully botched. Hey, look!” she was pointing at a muddy, wooden sign for *Pine View Drive-In Theater*, paint peeling, “’You ever been to one of those?” “Nah, never.” I was already turning in. “You?” “No, but I’ve always wanted to. I wonder if it's open.” I was focused on steering the narrow road through the trees but I could hear the smile in her voice. She loves spontaneity. We were making good time, and I’d already told the hotel we’d be checking in late, so why not? The ticket booth was deserted. The barrier gate was raised, obscured by branches. “’Damn. Closed.” But it was a one way road, so I drove on. The road opened onto the theater: a large clearing walled in by pines, their pointed heads swaying in the breeze. We were surprised to find the place packed with cars. This audience must’ve gathered from all the tiny, one-road towns in a 20 mile radius. I parked us in an empty space between two cars in the back row. The wheels ground down the overgrown grass, giving off a scent of damp soil. The movie had already started. There’d been no indication on the way in, but it was Disney’s Fantasia. “I thought these theaters were for porn.” Paige joked, “What’s this family-friendly shit?” Having noticed it was a family in the car beside us, I pleaded she keep her voice down. "This place is packed." she said, "I guess when you live in the middle of nowhere, you turn up for Friday night at the old drive-in.” “Right. What the hell else are you gonna do?” “Maybe this one never even closed. It could be from the 40s.” The field sloped down towards the screen. I noted the disorganization that screamed of small town stubborn independence. The cars were packed in a tight lattice, five or six vehicles deep in some spots. If someone had to leave, if there was an emergency, they were trapped. I wondered if folks in those parts were the sort to leave their phones at home, people who didn’t even have an internet connection. I’d seen pictures of drive-in-theatres where the movie audio came from speakers next to each window. Here the speakers were fixed to telephone poles; one pole for every hundred square feet. The sound quality wasn’t great. After a while I started to lose interest in the movie. I’d seen it before and it wasn't really my kind of thing. It had gotten dark. it was hard to make out the line where the trees ended and the sky started. The only light was the beam from the projection station hut to the wall that made the screen. I saw the silhouette of a man emerge from a car in one of the front rows. He ducked between the cars, trying and failing to go unnoticed. He disappeared off to the right, maybe to the bathrooms. Through the rear windscreen of the car immediately in front, I could see the back of a man’s head. He wore a baseball cap over wavy hair. He looked so still, enthralled by the movie. Paige dug a bag of chips from the back seat for us to share. I slouched against my door and she lay across with her head resting on my chest. A cool breeze flowed through the open windows. A crunch of grass announced a car parking immediately behind us, boxing us in. My stomach clenched for a moment, but I reminded myself we were in no hurry. If need be, we could always ask the driver behind us to let us out. I tried to get a look at them in the rear-view mirror- No good. All I could see was the movie reflected on their windshield. “Holy shit.” Paige snorted. “That couple in the next car…” “Don’t point!” She’s always like that. She’s the sort of person where you’ll say ‘Don’t look, but…” And she’s already spinning around in search of the person in question. “No. Seriously, look. It’s okay.” The woman in the driver’s seat was wearing shades, which was odd. She was blonde and pretty, with perfectly smooth skin... Wait. Too perfect… “Is that a mannequin?” “What the hell?” she was laughing, as she does when confused. I assumed the mannequin would be sat next to a real person, a lonely fetishist, but instead it was another doll. I didn’t know what to think of that. I turned to see if the family in the next car had noticed this practical joke. The mom was in the passenger seat, watching the screen intently. Thick waves of red hair concealed her face, so I couldn’t catch her eye. The kids in the back… I flinched: more plastic dolls. Believable at a glance; obviously inanimate now I was rudely staring into the car. Paige was leaned far forward, almost touching the windshield. She met my eye and shook her head. “That's creepy. *Some* of these cars must have people in them, right?” I glanced at the man in front, who on second thought seemed cold and still. But then… “The car behind us.” I tried to keep my breaths steady, my voice calm, as I looked in the rearview mirror again. It was impossible to see into the car, it was pitch black behind the glass, lively with reflected cartoon pegasuses “And I saw a guy walking around at the front.” “I’m gonna go investigate.” Her hand was on the door handle when the screen went black, plunging us into darkness. Moments later it flickered back to life. The colorful animation was gone. We were watching live-action in black and white… no, the moonlight scenes were just naturally monochrome. At first I thought this new film was silent. It took a few moments for my ears to register the deep drone rattling my chest and the walls of the car. I was surprised those tinny little speakers could handle it, but really it felt like the new soundtrack was coming from somewhere closer to the ground, or underground. The view on screen scrolled over roots and leaves. The cameraman was walking through a forest like the one that enclosed us, swaying a little, like they might be breathing heavily, but there wasn’t any sound but the escalating groan. There were a lot of flies in the shot, clouds of them billowing up in each step of the cameraman. I knew what this meant, and this new film didn’t feel like fiction. A dip in the earth and there it was, a pale hand peeking from beneath the soil, a shallow grave. 3 The number was stamped on the screen for a split second, overlaid. Another limb came into view, maybe a bicep. It almost glowed white in the black earth, like some giant maggot. 2 I heard ragged breaths. One, or both, of us was hyperventilating. The low drone now had other tones in it, a dull roar like a hurricane outside the window. The camera panned up to a mound of earth twenty feet across, dotted with half submerged bodies, engulfed in legions of flies. 1 The droning stopped. There was silence, for a split second before the back windshield exploded. I turned to see a glinting axe being dislodged from a deep incision between the back seat and the trunk. The wielder was just a dark figure, screaming for blood. We were screaming too. The figure stalked around Paige’s side of the car. I smashed my door open. With strength I didn’t even know I had, I was grabbing Paige around the waist in one arm and dragging her away from the door. We were on our feet, scrambling away as the man dashed around the hood and lunged at us. I could tell it was a man by his stature- he was easily over six foot- but his face was hidden behind a false female one. The freak had tied a hacked off mannequin face over his own. He seemed to let us get a head start, like it was a bit of fun, then followed. I couldn’t find Paige- she'd dashed off. I had to escape, but I had to find her. I don’t remember much of the sprint through the field, between the cars, except these frantic thoughts and the tastes of sweat and acid. The man screamed and screamed the whole time, barely pausing for breath. It was the only time in my life I’ve heard a human being make a noise like that. The sound gave me some idea of the distance between us. The worst part was the fear I’d hear him find Paige. I slowed down, trying to think. I crept around the back of a beat up old truck and found Paige twenty feet away, crouched behind a sedan. She looked up in panic, then slumped back against the car. Further down the hill the man shrieked, painfully, like his throat was tearing in the strain. There was another whine of metal under axe blade. Paige pointed at the trees and I nodded. We crept out of the clearing. My heart was pounding in my ears. I was sure the man would hear it and follow us. I was convinced he could smell the roiling blood in my veins. We crept blindly through the forest, holding hands. I can’t even guess how long we were out there. We kept having to circle around thick copses and choking undergrowth. There could’ve been bears out there. We could easily have fallen into a hidden ravine. I didn’t think about any of that, only escaping the wailing man and his axe. Eventually, soaked in mud, sap and blood from a hundred scrapes and cuts, we came out on the road. The gap in the forest let in moonlight and we could see a little better. Scared our pursuer would hunt us down in his car, we retreated to the trees to follow the road under cover. We walked several miles to the nearest town and found a police station. Thankfully the two officers on duty were helpful and took our story seriously. The state we were in lent weight to it I suppose. Paige couldn’t stop shaking. Someone gave us mugs of coffee. They knew the drive-in and claimed the strange arrangement was a bit of fun: a weird local ‘tradition’. The theater closed in the 70s. People started abandoning cars there in the 80s. No one remembered when the mannequins started showing up, but the whole messed up sight had become every-day for residents. New dolls were added to the theater's population every year. However, they were surprised to hear of the welcome sign that had lured us in, and raised eyebrows at mention of the movie: “There ain’t been any projection equipment up there in decades.” A few officers drove off to investigate the scene. We were showed to a waiting room where, exhausted, we fell asleep on a couch. ​ We were woken by a grim-faced police chief who wanted to ask us more questions. He confirmed that after finding my car and the axe wounds in it, they were filing a report and searching for the attacker. “We checked every car up there- nothing. No clue as to which way he went, but something’ll turn up. We’ll get the word out. We'll have the whole town on the lookout for anything suspicious.” “Was there projection equipment in the hut at the back?” Paige asked, “We didn’t dream there was a movie playing, right?” “Yeah. You sure as hell didn’t dream it.” He studied her a minute, then shrugged and shared what he knew he shouldn’t, “It was full of equipment, and spare mannequins. All different shapes and sizes, all dressed up and ready to go. It was like something from a horror movie.” He grimaced, “We’ve been treating the old theater -this ongoing art project- like it was a harmless prank. Now I’m wondering if something stranger's been going on, right under our noses.” I meant to ask him what he meant, but was interrupted by the screech of his chair's legs on the hardwood floor as he stood. “I’d like to take you back to the theater. We need you to show us exactly where you ran, where you saw him at the front. You can take your car, if it’ll run still. We can fix some plastic over the rear windshield until you can get to an auto repair.” I felt sick to my stomach at the thought of going back, but we had no choice, we were stranded. The sun was still behind the trees, but the morning sky was bright white. As the chief cop pulled in behind the rows of cars, I leaned over to see my miserable, beat up car. Thinking how much it’d cost me to get it repaired meant that when I saw the back heads of the mannequins sat in the front seats, all I felt was white hot anger. “Were those there when your guys investigated?” “No.” He made a call. The psycho was still nearby. We got out and I studied the mannequin in the driver’s seat. It a generic, angular face, but the ‘skin’ was exactly the right shade of brown. The dark curls on its head had been cut to a precise length: It was supposed to be me. The female figure in the passenger seat had Paige’s thick blonde hair; wore the exact shade of lipstick. Her voice sounded thick and muffled, “How did they do this so quickly? How did they find these clothes? It’s impossible…” It *was* impossible. They weren’t just similar styles and colors- they were the same fucking clothes. Shirt, pants, even the boots, were exactly the ones I had on. It had been a single night, the stores were closed. How would they even know where we’d bought them? We showed the chief where the attacker had come from and the direction we’d ran. We went over the horror scene in detail several times while he made notes. More cops showed up to scour the area once more. One guy helped us brush the broken glass from the back seats and fix a sheet of plastic over the gaping window. Honestly, we were weirded out by how helpful they were; they’re not like that in our area. I could only breathe again when we were back on the road. I wasn’t interested in whether they were going to find the guy. I just wanted to run. On the drive, we tried to joke about what had happened, but nothing broke the tense atmosphere. As I said, the whole trip was tough after that. We couldn’t just forget ourselves and relax. At least it was behind us. That’s what we thought. ​ Yesterday I was doing the dishes and Paige was out front vacuuming the floor of the car. We were finally taking it to the auto repair store that afternoon. I was drying my hands when Paige came in, slapped a scuffed notebook down on the counter beside me, then bee-lined for the bathroom, where I heard her retching. Immediately I knew where she’d found the book and who’d left it there. I opened it up before I could chicken out. On the first page was a diagram of the drive-in theater. Neat, rectangular outlines depicted rows of cars, each with a date inside. The dates on the cars nearest the screen were from the early 80s, and as the rows went back, they crawled up towards the present day. I spotted a car right around where we had parked marked 2022/09/16. It was one of three cars on the map circled in red pen, the other two being dated 1998 and 2009. Both had since been crossed out in red. My head started to spin. There were more cars mapped out behind ours, with dates proceeding all the way to April 2034. And that’s ridiculous right? I want someone to tell me this is all an elaborate prank. Paige appeared and quietly pulled a chair up to the counter. The following pages were a series of dates as headers, followed by bullet point lists, detailing car models and license plates, descriptions and sketches of people, sizes and brands of clothes and where they could be purchased. These details were written in different kinds of pen, clearly amended and updated at different points in time. I flipped through to find our date, our car, our descriptions. The skin on my arms and neck prickled as I saw the descriptions for female- 29 and male – 28, our car license plate, a note about a mole on female- 29- Paige’s left temple. The most chilling line was the freshly scribbled ‘*Incomplete*\- *ESCAPED- somewhere in NY*’ My tongue felt swollen, ”New York state doesn’t narrow it down much. There’s no way he can find us. He's got nothing.” She shook her head. She spoke gently, but it couldn’t take the edge off the truth, “He knew when we’d arrive. What we looked like… I don’t see what's to stop him finding us here. That film on the projector before he attacked? He was showing us where we're headed.”

What The Rain Brought

xwckki

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xwckki/what_the_rain_brought/

With a population of a quarter of a million, my city wasn’t technically a small town. But with how insular the districts and neighborhoods felt, small town is the only way I could describe the atmosphere of my Northern Californian city. Since it was made up of mostly upper-middle-class residents it was able to afford things that other, more populated, and “economically diverse” cities couldn’t. Large stretches of nature reserves and open spaces divided each major neighborhood, creating this strange marriage of mundane suburbia, deep forest, and marshlands just beyond our well-manicured lawns. I spent a lot of time in our local nature reserve, a small plain with a few skinny trees that transitioned into a moderate strip of forest. The point of change was marked by the deep scar of a creek splitting the reserve in two, and it was here within the creek where it first appeared. A smooth stone cube, the size of a shed, no entrance, no windows, nothing to identify it. This might come as a surprise but much of Northern California and the central valley region are historical flood zones. People tend to forget that in the decades-long drought that's ravaged the area. There's been a few sporadic storms here and there but nothing substantial. That was until early this winter wherein a single day half of foot of rain fell flooding much of the area. It was the most rainfall recorded in a day in several counties but as the winter rains receded so did the creeks leaving behind whatever the deluge flushed up. I was the first to find it, stepping down into the creek bed now with only a trickle of moving water. It didn’t feel wrong, there was no sense of danger walking up to it. And when I placed my hand on the smooth cold stone there was no jolt of anxiety, no emanating malice. I might have been able to pass it off as a uniquely shaped boulder if not for the fact that I could tell it was hollow. My friend Jamie thought that it was an ancient crypt and was certain we’d find native mummies or artifacts but I’ve never read of natives building structures like this. My father thought the city was behind it, probably something relating to maintenance. Grandpa also thought the city was involved but in a far more nefarious way. “Siphoning off our water, eventually they’ll revoke our water rights and force us to shower once a week just so people like Beyonce and the Baldwins never have to face the indignities of a brown lawn. And even then they’ll talk down to us like we’re what's wrong with the world.” I guess that’s why the neighbors call him a kook. Mom didn’t even react, I don’t think I’ve ever gotten anything from her besides a shrug, I guess that’s why they call her “emotionally comatose.” I didn’t know what to think of the structure so I put it out of my mind for a few days until Martin from down the street brought it up again. “You know a door appears at exactly midnight, it's gone by the time 12:01 rolls around though so you only have a minute before you’re sealed in.” “No fucking way, you expect me to believe that,” Jamie responded. “You and Adrian can come with me tomorrow to see it happen. I’ve watched it for days, and it’s always been consistent.” “What’s inside?” I asked. “I don’t know, I’ve never been inside, and it's too dark to look in. Only someone crazy would risk going in alone.” Martin and Jamie both threw skeptical glances in my direction. I guess I now knew that I had evolved from the weird homeschooled kid to the crazy one. It was brisk the night we snuck out, a moderate breeze snaked through our neighborhood, rattling wind chimes and muffling our footsteps. Street lights were few and far between and most houses only had dim solar garden lights meant to mark a path more than to cleave through the darkness and tonight was especially dark. Moonless and overcast but without the promise of rain, the night sky was smothered by an inky miasma and I too felt like some creeping formless thing weaving through streetlights, undetected. We reached the structure with 10 minutes to spare, flashlights aimed at the side where Martin claimed the door appeared. We let the minutes tick away, silenced by anticipation, even Jamie was too nervous to crack his usual jokes. Midnight came and in the tense a few seconds afterward the door failed to manifest. Jamie was already opening his mouth to speak but Martin simply pointed a finger at the wall. I noticed it then, a portion of the wall had become semi-transparent, and with each passing moment, it became more mist-like until it dissipated entirely. Without thinking I had already started walking towards the door. “Dude what are you doing?” Jamie asked. “We have a minute right?” I said. Martin nodded, clicked a button on his watch, and followed me, Jamie wavered for a moment before jogging ahead. At its threshold, we hesitated for a second, flashed our lights in, and noticed nothing of interest. The inside was just the same as the outside, smooth stone. The only blemish was some graffiti. It looked like gibberish at first but in the moments I had to examine it, I realized it was some kind of foreign language, the characters had enough commonalities amongst themselves that it must have been some kind of phrase. I couldn’t recognize it as any language, it bore no resemblance to any human language, the characters were maddeningly complex, spirals and concentric geometry and patterns involving mathematics far too advanced for it to be human. Someone had left a message here, but what it said or meant was beyond me. I quickly darted back outside, to the protest of my friends, grabbed a rock, and ran back in. Underneath the alien vandalism, I quickly scribbled a single word, “hello.” “10 seconds,” Martin said. Jamie was the first one out, Martin at his heels. I followed, slower than the duo but still brisk, and watched as the wall materialized and solidified before our eyes. The walk home was made with bravado, it didn’t matter if we got caught now, we had seen what was on the inside of that strange building. I couldn’t help but obsess over that alien language and was already planning for a return trip to take pictures. I hoped that somehow I’d be able to decipher the meaning, but by the time I got home a new thought arose within me. If that scrawl had evolved independently from any human language, would it be possible that this cube was bridging two different realms across incalculable space for one minute at dead midnight? The meaning of the scrawl had come to me at this realization, it was a greeting, just like my hello. But the writer was missing which led me to another revelation. There must be some discrepancy between our time, synched space, and unsynced time. Maybe it connected to a place where time ran differently, or some kind of time dilation was in place. Would it be possible then to enter the room, let it seal and wait out the discrepancy and arrive in whatever alien landscape it led to? I went to bed with these thoughts, eager to greet the dawn because I knew I would find my answer come midnight. Being the weird homeschooled kid had the advantage of having the whole day to plan out my excursion into the cube. I didn’t, the yoke of arrogance is difficult to cast off. Though I'm only 14 I already had outpaced not only every child but adult as well. I was in the gifted programs but as public schools began dismantling them my parents pulled me out. My father said it was for the better, he feared me becoming “one of those public school monstrosities.” In the years since I had skipped far enough ahead in grades to be eligible for a university but even the most elite posed no challenge for me so I was holding out on it. Plus I had a life to live, I wasn’t going to let my affliction rob me of my childhood. It was this intellect and my arrogance that led me to believe that I’d be able to escape from this consequence-free. If anything came out of how wrong I was it was my humbling. I found myself in front of that cube ten minutes before midnight. Jamie, Martin, and a half dozen other kids I recognized from around the neighborhood alongside them. “What’s going on? Why are you showing them?” I asked. “It’s safe, isn’t it? Why wouldn’t we?” Martin shrugged. I pondered whether it was truly safe, there hadn’t been an indicator of anything otherwise. But absence wasn’t a guarantee and as the minutes ticked down towards midnight a cold sweat set in. I had come to my assumptions about the cube hastily. What was to say that whatever left that strange alien scrawl wouldn’t come to the same concussion upon seeing my hello? That and I had never considered which way the time discrepancy ran. Was it behind or forward and by how much? What else had I missed? “It’s happening,” Jamie called out. My head jerked to face the cube and the kids gathered around where a doorway was manifesting. I adjusted my backpack and braced myself as the door finally stabilized its existence. It was empty and the kids gathered around but none dared to step past the threshold. Seconds ticked by painfully and the thudding in my chest was starting to subside. I took a tentative step forward as a kid I knew as Sammy found the courage to set foot inside. Seeing no reaction from within he stepped in fully and I let out a sigh of relief that I quickly sucked back in when Jenna’s scream reached a fever pitch. I was too far away to see fully into the building and while the rest of the children dispersed and ran in all directions screaming, I scrambled closer. Angling myself to get a better view of Sammy I saw that he was struggling against the grip of a black tendril and as I inched closer and the ceiling came into view I saw that something amorphous was clinging from it. Made of shadow and some other great abstraction it hauled itself down in one fluid and whipcrack fast motion, drawing Sammy into its mass. It shot out of the room towards a still fleeing Marco and caught him in its appendages. It hoisted the screaming boy high into the air. Its form was inconstant, shifting between highly geometric structures and free-flowing patternless miasma. In one moment it was a million writhing arms and limbs all fighting to break away from each other and within a heartbeat, it was smooth and uniform. It had countless eyes blossoming into existence, taking in a foreign world. I blinked and it had become this massive pale blind salamander that had never known light or warmth in its entire existence. Marco was absorbed into its mass and took off towards a kid that had run down the creek bed towards the dense forest. I was left alone with fading echoing screams and the gaping maw of the cube. Time slowed, and I saw the door starting to materialize as the seconds ticked down towards midnight's end. I made the dumbest decision of my life that night and sprinted into the fading doorway. A half second after I had entered, the door sealed and I was plunged into darkness. I don’t know how long exactly. I let the dark permeate my being, I had a flashlight in my pack and could have dispelled it anytime I wanted. There was a pang of strange guilt though, misplaced or not I felt as if I deserved to sit and stew here. For a moment I felt like I was caught in that stage between awake and asleep, that trance-like atemporal state, and then there was light. My eyes strained and focused on the world beyond the door and it left me mouth agape. I expected alien vistas and cities out of HP. Lovecraft but what I saw was a sprawling endless meadow of yellow flowers. I wavered at the door for a moment, aware of the shrinking window of opportunity to step through. Hesitation was cast aside, I had gotten this far already. I don’t remember stepping out of the cube, one moment I was at its threshold, and the next I was in the middle of green and yellow. The sunlight was harsh, I could tell so by the way its brightness washed everything out, but I felt no heat. I tried to move but found that I was frozen in place and I started to panic. The light dimmed and everything became enshrined in lurid color, I could see the swirling patterns of air currents though they were colorless and the taste of wild mustard greens was upon my tongue. I tried to move once more and found my perspective shift and without warning, I was looking at myself in the 3rd person. The colors intensified and everything blurred together, a bell was ringing somewhere. In the distance, a great sentinel tower loomed and I saw it all together at once. The field of wild mustard and a red and white lighthouse with no coast in sight and my lone shadowy silhouette in the midst. Once again I tried to move despite being disconnected from my body and found the effort futile. I thought if I could just shift around to face the cube, figuring it was behind me. I imagined the perspective and as if pulled into the thought the world warped and shifted. When I regained sight the lighthouse was gone and now in front of my body were rolling hills of yellow and green, a dozen gray squares scattered amongst them. Cubes, all with doors that led elsewhere but I had no way of knowing which one led back to my world. A shadow fell upon the flowers, upon my silhouette. Its position meant it could only have come from the lighthouse. But it was far too big considering the distance and too angular as if it had begun to stretch and warp the second I stopped looking at it. As the shadow grew longer and reached towards my body and I saw the uncountable writhing masses contained within. I was straining to think of a way to escape it, to get back home. These beings are native here, wherever here was. Their movements weren't bound to the same restrictions and limitations I was currently afflicted by, and yet I still found a way to traverse. I looked to the hills and tried several times to recreate the perspective of the meadow from their vantage point. With each failed attempt the creeping shadows grew nearer. They swelled and rose like a tidal wave and blocked out any source of light, a thousand forms screaming and thrashing all coming down in a torrent of agony. Hands and mouths, grasping and gnashing encircled my being at the moment before contact I was spirited away amongst the hills. I had figured it out, not only was time and space here operating on foreign framework but so was causality itself. Physical action in real space had no reaction, but if I knew, or at least accurately estimated where I wanted to project myself in real space, I could. I looked back at the meadow, it was like a ruined painting. On the horizon was a tower of impossible height, evil and warped. Black ink spilled out from it and stained all in its shadow. The meadow, and the sky, all consumed by the malady. Veins of black lighting stretched out across the sky, racing towards me at alarming speeds. But I felt no fear, I knew what the meadow looked like from the perspective of my cube. Black plasma bridged the space between me and the tower but it was already too late. I was in the cube, back in my body, looking across the expanse of a shattered landscape. The entities birthed from the tower cast their tendrils toward me but the door of the cube had already sealed shut, letting me know that I had spent less than a minute in this strange world. When light again greeted me it was dim moonlight and I stepped out into the creek bed now marked in crime scene tape. The proceeding hours were a shit show, with questions from my parents, from the police, and zealous reporters. I kept my story simple, someone ran out from the cube and snatched Sammy and Marco. In the ensuing chaos I was assaulted and knocked out cold and I didn’t wake until the next night deep in the woods and had to find my way home. It didn’t undermine the other kid's accounts since no one believed them that a formless shadow monster took them and that the cube had supernatural properties. I was able to manipulate my father into rounding up parents from around the neighborhood to take sledgehammers to the cube and destroy it. That caused controversy and anger among law enforcement I didn’t care, I had fucked up royally and shown those tower dwellers how to cross over into our world, I needed to have its gateway destroyed. I don’t know where the other cubes led to, hoped somewhere far, but I was also aware that I might have assured the invasion of some other plane by these things. As for the one who crossed into our world, I don’t know. There have been disappearances reported in a few districts downstream from my neighborhood. Rumors say it was the work of a strange shadowy figure but those are just that, rumors. I let myself believe that we’d be fine for at least a while. But that was before new reports predicted a high probability of heavy rains and flooding for the region. We got a drizzle and a lightning storm a few days ago. I hope that should these rains come to pass they don’t dredge up any of those strange structures because now they know how to use them.

Sea Sick on the Grand Sapphire of Tripoli

xwbh88

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xwbh88/sea_sick_on_the_grand_sapphire_of_tripoli/

When you are at sea anything can happen and i'm someone who survived the worst of the worst. You see I worked for a cruise line as an entertainer for about 13 years. I was a magician and worked a few shows a day. It was the best job in the world. Until it wasn't. What I saw can never be truly explained but I'll do my best.  This is my last attempt to get the story out what happened on the ship that vanished. A ship that now has no record of ever existing now. Over 3000 people gone and to my knowledge, I'm the only one left. I still remember the Grand Sapphire of Tripoli and her final tour.  We set sail from the east coast of the US and were meant to make it to Bermuda. My shows were going great. Mostly old folks went on these cruises so my magic shows were quite easy to entertain. Everything was going great and I even got a date one night in the captains lounge. Things were going perfectly until the first sickness happened. On the 4th night of the cruise a waiter had fallen sick while working a meat carving station. It was a rather nasty illness. Something had caused the man to bleed from his eyes, nose and mouth. It was quite the spectacle as blood gushed out all over the roasted meats. Passengers alarmed all fled the dinning hall and the man was taken to the sick bay.  It wasn't uncommon for crew or passengers to come down with illness while at sea. There was a whole medical staff on board just for these scenarios and with the recent panics over viruses cruise ships had begun to practice even safer restrictions when illness arose.  This was something else though. Something that went from zero to 100 fast. The next day half the dinning hall who had been exposed to the man we're exhibiting similar symptoms of bleeding. One child had gotten the illness and turned the whole water slide a bloody mess as he rushed into the main pool with a flow of blood behind him. On the 5th night over 50 people had contracted the illness and everyone was told to remain in their rooms for in room meal delivery while the ship would undergo a deep clean overnight. Not one crew member would survive the deep clean.  When I woke up the next morning I had awoken to a bit of a hangover. I had decided to rendezvous with the lady I had dinner with the night before. Her husband had been one of the sick and she decided to take advantage of the situation. I being a scumbag had elected to fully support the debauchery. I'm a magician not a priest.  When I stumbled out of the room I noticed things were different. Even this early, during the day, things were typically active. Not on this somber morning. As I made my way to the elevator the door opened and inside was what looked like an elderly man. His face was missing. Just a limp body on the floor covered in blood. The most nauseating thing was realizing that the man's face had been chewed off. It dawned on me when I saw his leg had a tooth sticking out of it. A human tooth.  I decided to take the employee stairs and saw more blood stains. It slowly was turning into a horror movie. I made my way to where breakfast was served for crew. I was trying to find someone to tell me what was going on. That's when I saw it. It was about 10 crew members all face down rapidly moving their heads back and forth. I could hear gurgles coming from something. I by accidentally knocked a cup over and they all turned to face me. That's when I saw our captain. At least what was left of our captain. Those 10 crew members had been gnawing on the captain. I stumbled out of there and took a pole that had been holding a velvet rope.  I jammed it through the doors to keep them at bay. As I made my way down the hall I could hear more gnawing and screams. Feet shuffling around. I knew I had to make it to the decks. I had to find a lifeboat and get off this ship.  I knew where they kept the lifeboats and had been trained in how to release them. I imagined I wouldn't be the only one with this idea. At this point I knew it was survival. I emerged on the decks and could see I wasn't the only one. The problem was it wasn't anyone healthy there. They noticed me and began to run towards me gnashing their teeth. I grabbed the closest thing to me which was a bottle of champagne and bashed in the head of a man.  I just kept swinging until I could make sight of the lifeboats. Blood splatters everywhere. I don't know how many I had bashed in but I just kept pushing forward. Hoping I would never become whatever it is they were.  Finally I made it to the lifeboat. I got in and shut the door and pulled the emergency release. The lifeboat dropped down into the firgid Atlantic ocean. The ship full steam ahead leaving me behind in it's wake. I watched the ship as it sailed over the horizon. I spent a full day in that boat before I saw any other sign of life. I awoke to the sound of fighter jets flying over head. I watched them as they flew in the direction the boat had headed. Soon I could see a fireball just at the edge of the horizon and a large plume of smoke.  Three days later I was found by a passing freightliner. They pulled me on board as I told the crew my story. They were all astonished by what I told them and they recognized that the lifeboat indeed was from a cruise ship. They contacted American port authority and I was taken in by the FBI.  I told them my story and waited for them to come back and tell me about what had happened. Instead of them coming back I was met by a few doctors. They then transferred me to a mental health psych ward. Involuntarily admitted for 6 months.  I spent the first 3 months trying to tell them what I had experienced was real. A boat full of murderous people eating each other. Each time I told my story, the more I felt crazy. They more I started to believe I had made this all up. There was no ship. There were no cannibals. I wasn't a ship magician. They told me I had stolen an old cruise ship life boat and made it all up. After the 6th month I had fully believed I was crazy. I started to repeat the story they told me to believe.  There was no cruise ship. I wasn't a magician. I lied. No one died.  With the meds and my story in check they released me. Things went okay. I became a normal citizen again. The facility helped me reintegrate back into society. For the past year I was normal.  Then last week I got a letter. This was the letter I received: "You weren't the only one to survive. The government lied to you. They destroyed the ship. They covered it all up. Meet me at the coordinates on the back of the photo enclosed. You will be picked up in 3 hours. Be ready to leave. Send out your story to the press before you leave." I reached in the envelope to find a photo of the ship with a giant gaping hole from a missel. The bow of the ship was sinking. They blew up the ship.  So this is my message to you. Tell the world. Share this on social media. The US government killed everyone on the Grand Sapphire of Tripoli. Now you know.

The world thinks I’m crazy but really it’s the world.

xwjcq8

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xwjcq8/the_world_thinks_im_crazy_but_really_its_the_world/

This all started back when I was little. I grew up in a small town where it was frowned upon to be different. My whole family knew from an early age there was something off about me, I was always seeing things. At the age of 4 I told my mom that little people with hats (talking about gnomes) would follow everyone around yelling at them for the things they would do wrong. Being that my town didn’t like different my parents always told me that I just had an imagination in hopes that I would stop seeing and saying these things as I got older. However the older I got the worse it got, I started looking online and I seen all these different answers most saying that I was mentally insane and should be put away. I could never find any clear answers so I just stopped looking and lived with it. This is 8 years ago now. I’m currently 29 and have only been getting worse, I again turned back to the internet but found this group of people like me and we started talking and nobody else knew what was wrong and we were all looking for answers. We looked for so long that I thought it would just lead to another dead end so I left it alone for a bit. That was until one day when it was the worst it had ever been, I had walked into a job interview and seen blood dripping down the walls and dead animals all around as if there was a sacrificial ritual preformed there. I had completely lost it I had a full break down and ended up in the mental hospital. Thankfully I was able to fake it so well from being forced to my whole life I got out in a week. Once I got out I went back to the group and i found out that they had a testing lined up with a scientist that claimed he might know what is wrong. We all obviously wanted to know what was wrong with us so we all went and met this scientist. He led us into this lab and spent 2 months doing tests on us. Things like making us sit in chairs that monitor our brain activity and our blood pressure while we see these things. This one time he had us all take these pills to see if it would stop and it only made us worse. Finally after 2 months of tests and not leaving the lab we got our results. They were baffling to all of us including the scientist. It turns out we all have been seeing the world in it’s true form. The form everyone has been trying to uncover for so long and not one single person has been able to. So all those years we went not knowing what was wrong with us was really just us having a chemical in our brain that others do not. This chemical is one that the brain releases when your young and can see the world for what it is. It’s terrifying to think that we all seen this as a kid but some of us just never stopped producing it.

I brought a radio home from work now im being hunted by hell hounds Pt 2

xwnh5k

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xwnh5k/i_brought_a_radio_home_from_work_now_im_being/

OK so guys i got a bit of an update first and foremost the radio came to life at about 11 pm. Yesterday it buzzed to life making me both excited and uneasy. “Are the batteries in” It seemed a little demanding Once I responded with a “yes” she seemed less wound up and a little more calm with a simple “good” we began our conversation with mostly me prying for answers. Im going to save both of us our time by not bothering transcribing as most of it was back and forths of “I don’t know” and “why don’t you know” Basically, she refused to give her name and couldn’t really describe the creatures as when she was discovered it was only a small operation. whether its military or private she does not know what she does know is they are very powerful. Oh yes shes been taken she doesn’t know where I don’t know where, all we collectively know is she’s still there hiding surviving off of stolen food and water when she gets the chance to enter the kitchen. As for her reason for being there She said she can communicate and interact with all things electric, hence the radio. And the reason I need batterys in the radio is the organisation can track abnormal activity but if I have a functioning radio with batterys it just acts as a normal radio only the outgoing pulses can be tracked and this high tech company is way to protective to allow any siganls leaving there to be trackable so ya aslong as the radio is powered on im in the clear. Oh and on a personal note I got fired. Apparently keeping a radio for 4 days is considered “”stealing company property”” ya that’s about it, its kinda annoying that I have to now find a new job while being hunted by a super secret and dangerous organisation with hell hounds but hey atleast my headaches haven’t acted up in a while. Shes continued contacting me on a 3-4 hour basis which has concerned my family and friend why I keep a radio on my person at all times but orders are orders. Our last call was a tad concerning though luckily I got in the habbit of transcribing our events after second call so it kinda went as follows. Radio: hey you there? Me: ya im about to go hand out CVs Radio: sorry again I got you sacked. Me: sacked? I haven’t heard that outside movies. Radio: oh so whats it called when you get sacked so Me: fired just fired Radio: oh sorry I got you fired Me: no biggy, how are you so? any update on your location? Radio: oh ya about that I em kinda got a little bit lost here and well I may or may not have put the facility on full alert. Me: not good? Radio: Ya not good. they made some small puppy hounds that are in the vents at the moment. Me: have you seen one yet Radio: nah, not yet they cant find me im to fast. Me: oh good Radio: ya basically lived here for a year now im always two steps…… oh shit Me: what hey are you okay Radio: oh shit SHIT SHIT SHIIIIIIIIT And that was that. Im sure shes fine, well she kinda has to be its not like she can realy be caught shes a master at sneaking as she put it. Still I hope shes okay I kinda started enjoying our talks. Okay so I was waiting to get an update from her but I had these weird dreams and I was in a vent system and well I don’t know how else to put it but I think I was her or atleast watching from her pov. She/I was crawling through a metal airvent the cold metal was burning up my knees from friction like going down a slide in shorts I could barely here the set of thuds behind me over my breath but once I had the sound locked in I noticed they were gaining and gaining and gaining until they were right behind me the warm decaying breath all to familiar I turned left into a new shaft and then right but no matter how hard I tried I just wasn’t fast enough my lungs began to hurt, my side in stitches and my knees bleeding I could here yelling from underneath followed by a POP and the distinct sound of metal breaking metal small holes formed all around me leaking light into the otherwise black vents. The creature was reaching for me hearing its teeth chomp near my ankles and a straw like fur rubbing against my exposed skin where it was barely missing me. I knew my luck was running low in a final attempt I turned to kick at it but missed it was hidden in the dark like the fucking coward it was I was kicking blind until i felt my ankle get crushed its teeth cutting into me like a butchers knife feeling my flesh get severed the open air pearsing inside the wound finaly with a tug equivalent in strength to a semi truck I was dragged through the dark. When I woke up my leg was covered in blood but there was no wound. I genuinely believe I was in her head. The fear she felt I can still feel it I can’t calm down and my face feels warm and my heart hurts My mind is all confumbled and I feel distant from my current reality like somethings fogging up my mind like a hard morning after a night out on the town. Luckily I don’t have a job to call in sick for. My radios been completely silent I even tried calling out against my better judgment and her recommendations. Im currently using a library laptop in fear of being tracked though I have noticed a lot more weird stares perhaps im a little paranoid I don’t know, if you know of any orginisation like this please contact me I. NEED. AWNSERS

Porky Piper

xvx8lz

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xvx8lz/porky_piper/

My wife Ashley and I sipped on whiskey and cokes at my twenty-year high school reunion costume party. Halloween night in the big red barn, a setting I was familiar with from my teenage days of underage keggers behind the haystacks. Dressed as doctor and nurse, we mingled with faces I had not seen for years. A chill climbed my spine when Piper walked through the doors. A woman I bullied one too many times back in school. Still overweight with that fragile smile that made my stomach churn, she locked eyes with me before I could divert my attention back to my wife. “Barrett, you have grown into a fine young man. Or are we middle aged now? I don’t know anymore. I’ve stopped counting,” Piper said to initiate the conversation. “Hi Piper, nice to see you. This is my wife, Ashley,” I responded. Piper’s gazed remained on me until Ashley extended her hand out for a shake. I never had the chance to apologize to Piper after the last harrowing experience we put her through during senior year; she avoided me every time she caught sight of me in the halls. “Listen, didn’t mean to interrupt, but I’m having a little costume after party at my place. I’d love if it you both showed up. It would mean so much.” Piper wrote down her address on a napkin. “l’ll see you there?” “Wouldn’t miss it,” I replied nervously, knowing I should have said no. After Piper walked away, Ashley nudged me. “Who was that? An old fling? I saw how you froze up when she approached.” “Actually, it was this girl we used to bully in high school,” I whispered into Ashley’s ear. “I was young and dumb. You know how it goes. Boys being boys as they say.” “You a bully? I don’t believe it. You’re such a caring guy.” “I just kind of got swept away with it. All that peer pressure from my buddies. Trust me, I’ve regretted it ever since. Never should have picked on that girl.” “Well, we must go to the party now. It wouldn’t look good if we didn’t. She would be heartbroken, you know?” When we arrived at Piper’s house, I was alarmed to discover we were the only people there. She assured us more alumni would be trickling in, but they never did. Ashley was having a blast drinking and socializing, but an uneasiness brewed within me. “So, Barrett tells me he used to pick on you back in the day. I hope you don’t hold any grudges. He’s such a sweetheart nowadays. He will not hurt a fly.” Piper’s body perked up, as a smile stretched across her face. “Grudges? Do you know what your husband and his goons did to me? Tell her Barrett, what is it you all used to call me?” “I’m not comfortable talking about this right now,” I replied, my vision growing fuzzy. “Porky Piper. Porky Piper. Porky Piper,” Piper screamed, as I dozed off. While my eyes were closed, I felt arms grabbing me all around. Piper’s arms. She spoke calmly to me and Ashley while she tied us up with rope. My body felt numb. I was certain she drugged us with the cocktails she made. When I came to, I shot a horrifying glance at Ashley. Her mouth was covered with duct tape, and so was mine. Seated next to each other on the couch, we were not able to free ourselves from the restraints, the rope that bundled us together. Piper sat on the floor in front of the couch and dangled a wire cutter in front of us. Ashley and I squirmed in fear. Piper placed the wire cutter on Ashley’s thigh and proceeded to remove Ashley’s left shoe and sock. “This little piggy withdrew from society.” Piper picked up the wire cutter and inserted Ashley’s pinky toe within it. “But she’s back now.” Vomit drizzled from the tape down to Ashley’s chin, but most of it had to be swallowed back down, as her crying eyes watched Piper cut through the bloody toe and examine it like she just discovered gold. “For each year you tortured me. This little piggy stress eats every day.” Piper clipped Ashley’s ring toe while Ashley flopped around. “She has no control, no discipline when it comes to food.” In total, four toes were removed from my wife. Ashley passed out, as I desperately tried to free myself. Piper took a pig nose mask out from her pocket and pulled the elastic band over her head. “Is this what you see, Barrett? Am I just a pig for you to feed with its own feces? That stunt you pulled. Putting pig shit in my cafeteria lasagna. Do you understand the lifelong humiliation I suffered because of that? Now, when you look at your wife, you will remember me. I want you to suffer.” Piper stood up and left the house. After about fifteen minutes, I fully regained the feeling in my body, and I was able to remove the ropes. I called the cops and applied pressure to my wife’s foot with my shirt. We learned the house we were in was just a rental Piper had booked for the night. By the time the authorities were able to inspect her last known residence, Piper had fled. I have no idea where she is today, but I’m constantly reminded of her presence whenever I look down at my wife’s stump of a foot.

Never Stop for Gas at Night.

xw0hgq

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xw0hgq/never_stop_for_gas_at_night/

Growing up as a girl, I’ve always been told to be cautious. It didn’t matter if I was going to the mall or leaving from work - I’ve always kept my eyes peeled for anyone acting strange or out of the ordinary. Although nothing had happened to me while doing these everyday tasks, the scary idea of getting kidnapped or worse has always been at the back of my mind. Since I was around 16, I’ve carried at the very least a pocket knife and mace with me wherever I go, just to be on the safe side. My mom was the one that instilled this paranoia in me. I’m not saying I didn’t appreciate it - I’m sure it’s saved me a couple of times without me realizing it, but I can’t go anywhere now without seeing a potential predator. It’s not just men either. I think this way about both men and women, thanks to the internet. Seeing scary videos and stories about couples trying to bait teenage girls to their cars and homes has just pushed this paranoia further and further. In a strange way, I’m glad it did. Getting gas at night was something I did often, which went against basically everything I was taught, but sometimes I forgot to get it earlier in the day and I just didn’t have any other choice. Last night was one of those nights. I remember the price - $3.96 a gallon, and $3.93 after my rewards. I was close to an empty tank and I had the money to fill it up, so I just decided to go until it was full. For some reason, the pump was going pretty slow, but I wasn’t in too much of a rush. I just sat against the side of the truck, watching the price on the screen climb higher and higher. There was a slight breeze and the air was cold, but not cold enough that a hoodie wouldn’t keep me warm. I unlocked the truck and grabbed my hoodie from the backseat, making sure that I didn’t fully turn my back towards the empty parking lot. Once I closed the door, I could barely see a glimpse of my reflection in the back window. It wasn’t only me in the reflection though. With my pocket knife in my hand, I turned back toward the pump. Not too far away, maybe about six feet, was a man. He looked normal, but also a little… beat up, you could say. Not by a person, but by the elements. His clothes were torn and soiled, and his hair sat on his head, matted and coated white with dandruff. Other than that, he seemed like any other guy, just too close to a teenage girl for comfort. “Can I help you?” I asked, keeping a straight face. I didn’t want to smile, to look too friendly. “Got any cash?” He gave me a slight smile, just enough to show his dark and rotting teeth. I tried not to react. Just because I didn’t want to look friendly doesn’t mean I wanted to seem rude either. “No I don’t. I’m using the last of what I have to fill up.” I had some spare bills in my truck, but to be honest, I’ve never given any money to homeless people. Sounds harsh, I’m sure, but it’s better to keep your distance. You never know how they might react depending on what you give them. Plus, I didn’t want to turn my back on this guy to get anything out of the car. “Hm, I see. Sorry to bother you then.” I figured after that, he would walk away. Maybe he’d try and find a busier area with more people to get money from. But he didn’t move, didn’t even blink. He just stood there, staring at me. I just stared back. We probably held eye contact for a good ten seconds before he decided to turn around and make his way back to wherever he came from. He had a slight limp from his left leg, and I could see the soles of his shoes rubbing off. I started to wonder if I should’ve just given him the change. The pump finally finished, after what felt like an eternity of waiting, and I put it back in its holding spot. At this moment, I felt uneasy and kind of tense. He didn’t seem dangerous, but the fact that I couldn’t see where the man wandered off made me uncomfortable. In fact, I really couldn’t see anything. The two streetlights and a few flashing bulbs near the front of the gas station didn’t provide me with much to go off of, and noticing this just made me more freaked out. I had a feeling I needed to get into the car, and fast. I hopped in the front seat, locked the car doors, and checked the back to make sure there was no one back there. Empty, thank God. I turned around to face the windshield and literally almost pissed myself. The man was back, but he wasn’t alone. Next to him, not even two feet away from the front of my truck, was a woman. She was small, maybe malnourished and underfed, and had the scariest smile on her face I’d ever seen. Her teeth were worse than the mans, even though there weren’t many in her mouth to see. I assumed that they were not only homeless, but on some type of drugs as well. It would explain not only the freaky behavior I was witnessing, but their appearance as well. I could barely grasp my key in my hands from shaking, but I managed to start the truck. I turned on the headlights and honked at the pair. Nothing. They didn’t move. They didn’t try to talk. They just had the same smiles on their faces - menacing and sinister. My chest started to hurt. I knew I wasn’t having a heart attack, but God it felt like I could. As I moved the gear shift to reverse, I saw the woman hold something up from my peripheral. I was almost too scared to look, and honestly, I wish I never did. The nose on the girl’s head she was holding was missing. It didn’t look like natural decomposition - not even close. Ripped skin surrounded what I assumed was broken cartilage, and I could tell that her nose was bitten off. Her eye sockets were hollow, and God only knows what they did with her eyeballs. Frozen in fear, all I could do was watch as she ripped the teeth from the girl’s lifeless head, placing them one by one in her own mouth. I saw the blood starting to ooze from her gums as she forced them into the sockets. The man just stood and watched her, his gaze not departing from her. At this point, I was ready to throw up, but I also couldn’t look away. I knew I needed to get help. I grabbed my phone without looking away from the couple, and called the police, reversing my truck and driving off on the road in the process. By the time they asked me what the emergency was, I was in hysterics, snot and tears dripping from my face. I doubt they could understand much of what I was saying, but they at least got the location and that’s all that mattered. I’m not really sure what happened after that. I didn’t really provide any identifiable information about myself, just what I could explain to the dispatcher about what I saw. What I wish I didn’t see. I’ve had a nightmare about it every night since then - I’ve had my own teeth ripped out, saw the woman staring at me through my window with a bloody smile, and thought I was waking up to the man in my room, watching me sleep. I don’t know if this is something I’ll ever get over. If only I could forget it, but I know one thing for certain now - I’ll only be getting gas when the sun is up, never during the night again. I don’t want my eyeless, toothless head to be the next one found all because I wanted to fuel up late at night. I caution you all to do the same as me, and avoid it. At the very least, carry something to protect yourself, maybe something stronger than mace or a pocket knife. Who knows what good that would’ve done for me had I needed it. Most importantly though, keep your head on a swivel, because if you don’t, I guess you never know where your head will end up next.

Have you ever wondered what happens when you die?

xvdesp

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xvdesp/have_you_ever_wondered_what_happens_when_you_die/

The lab’s under lockdown. It’s been under lockdown for the last three hours. I’m in here alone. It’s just me, the broken vial of the last thing they injected me with, and the corpse of Dr. Blaise. I know what you’re thinking– how can he be a corpse if he’s standing there and pointing at me, eyes wide open? Well, I know because he doesn’t have a pulse. He’s doing his best impression of a manikin, but he’s definitely dead. Believe me. They’ve been killing me over and over. Bringing me back again and again. I’ve become pretty familiar with the process of death, the signs, but it’s never looked like this. Never. The alarms are blaring outside the steel door. I can see the lights flashing red through the tiny window with the crosshatched glass, see the labcoats running by and the lab rats running through them. Screams fill my eardrums alongside snarls and pleas. I don’t know what’s happening out there, but it’s violent. Bloody. People are dying. I prefer it in here by far, but if the smell wafting through the air vent is any indication, I don’t get a choice in the matter. It smells acrid. Like fire. There’s a gentle haze settling across the room, and it’s giving me an ultimatum– stay in here and wait for the smoke and flames, or run out there and risk the madhouse. I try the door. Locked. Next I give the window a glance, but the steel bars covering it tell me it isn’t worth the effort. The tiny room doesn’t leave me a lot of options. I’ve got a steel gurdy, a metal cabinet, Dr Blaise’s corpse, and the vent in the corner that’s six sizes too small for an adult. Maybe if I was four years old I could make it work. Maybe. The lights flicker, going from white to red to dead. The tiny room is suddenly pitch black and I’ve become aware that the commotion outside– the screaming the snarling the fighting– has stopped. Something else has replaced it. Something slow. Methodical. It’s like footsteps but heavier, like if a bulldozer grew a couple legs and decided to take a stroll down the Experimental Research ward. There’s another sound alongside it. Quieter. Coarse. It’s the sound of something being dragged across the dirty linoleum. A voice. “**Come to see the one to be…**” it mutters, skipping like a broken record. “**Ask and ask and you shall see…**” The voice is distorted, like something run through a digital blender and each word it speaks is delivered in a monotonous drone. I take a step backward on instinct. It occurs to me that the footsteps in the dark are growing closer, approaching my little cell at the end of the hallway. My back bumps into the cabinet, and I feel about it in the darkness, sliding open the door and shoving my body inside. It’s cramped, but I manage. The door closes with a thunk. Thunder rings around the room. Thunder and thunder and *thunder*. Something is pounding against the door and I can hear the three-inch steel barrier squealing as it gives way beneath the force of the blows. “**You cut and snipped and tore at me… And now you’ll wear my agony….**” The door offers one last shriek of dying steel. It falls to the floor with a clang that wakes up half the county and a quarter of the next. The bulldozer walks into the room and I hold my breath and close my eyes and even think about *praying* before remembering that people like me, people with my track record– we don’t get the luxury. **Called to us, didn’t he? Called to us to make us be. Now he hides from all he sees, now he hates this tragedy…** I don’t open the cabinet door. I don’t even slide it an inch to take a peek and satisfy my curiosity because the truth is I don’t need to. I can hear just fine. I can hear Dr. Blaise’s stomach being split open, hear the sound of his intestines hitting the floor and the desperate gulps as something makes his inside’s *their own*. I do a good job of keeping quiet. Keeping still. I do a good job of avoiding the death and the blood and the horror, but what I am is human, and that means I need to breathe. And right now there’s smoke filling the room. It’s wafting in from the air vent, and it’s nestling in my lungs. Burning. Scratching. I cough. I cough and before I can stop myself, I cough again. *Jesus.* Like I said: only human. There’s a dull thump and a wet splash. It’s what I imagine the doctor’s corpse sounds like when it's dropped into a puddle of its own blood. What follows are heavy footsteps that tell me I’m going to die. They're slow. Plodding. Something snaps in my brain, and in the span of a moment, six million years of human evolution decide it’s time to flip a coin. Fight. Or flight? I tear open the cabinet door and my eyes find a room that doesn’t exist. *Darkness*. It doesn’t matter because my memories are acting as my GPS, guiding my bare feet across the cold linoleum, through the warm blood and past the monster I cannot see. My shoulder strikes the edge of the doorway and that’s fine because at least I know I’m out of the room. Out of reach. I keep moving. I keep moving down the pitch black hallway that I’ve walked down every day for the last sixteen years. The same hallway that’s painted my dreams. My nightmares. I trip and stumble over dead bodies that are strewn about like discarded litter, and I wonder what happened here. If the experiments went too far. If anybody deserved this. Behind me, the bulldozer resumes its pursuit. It’s still dragging something behind it, but I’m not wasting my time turning around to gawk because I know full well that not all deaths are equal. Some are worse than others. This one could be the worst of all. It takes me six heartbeats to reach the end of the corridor, and by the time I do I'm greeted with a bittersweet surprise: my assailant's done my work for me. The exit door's been torn to pieces, and so have the guards in front of it. Their corpses are everywhere. A little here, a little there. I try not to think about their fractured skulls cutting into my bare feet, try not to think about whose intestines I'm slipping over as I stumble out of the demolished doorway. I try not to think, and then I don't need to try anymore. Because I'm free. Sixteen years locked in a cage, and now I'm *free*. I stumble onto the courtyard grass, panting and wheezing like a man who’s spent his whole life strapped to a chair or walked like a dog. My chest is heaving. My legs are trembling. I gaze back at the research lab, and it’s lit up like a funeral pyre and burning twice as bright, courtesy of a chemical cocktail potent enough to light the flames of hell. Chemicals I’ve tasted. Felt coursing through my veins. Some I’ve even helped design. **Wants to see what he can be and wants to know... Where he can go...** The footsteps grow closer, echoing from inside of the facility and there’s the sound of something being lifted. Swung. Bodies fly from the shadow of the doorway. They crash around me, tumbling through the grass in a shower of blood and viscera. Each more awful than the last. Among them are faces I recognize; soldiers who coerced me into dying, day in and day out. Others are doctors. Old colleagues of mine. **Cast about beyond the veil, sought to find the Holy Grail...** I can’t see it, but I can hear it. I know the creature is standing at the wreckage of the door, painted in the dark of the hallway and I know that it’s watching me. Waiting. My instincts are begging me to keep running, to jump the gate and disappear down the mountain and hope against hope that all of this goes away if I just run *fast* enough, but I know better. The smoke in the sky shifts. Moonlight finds the wreckage of the door. It finds the silhouette standing in the dark– the phantom with the footfalls of a goliath and the voice of a skipping record. But the goliath is thin. Thinner than it has any right to be. It looks emaciated, bent over in the passage with two eyes of gleaming gold and a mouthful of broken teeth. **Questions, questions, asked of me... Answers, answers, never free...** I see it now. I see it and my stomach drops, my jaw trembles and my mind begins to race for a way out. Memories lurch from dusty corners of my psyche. I do everything I can to strangle them, but it isn’t enough. They’re multiplying inside of my mind, infesting me with decades of regret. Agony. I had no choice. I say the words again and again, and each time I do they become more meaningless. The truth is, the only thing I ever had was a choice. The choice to become a monster or remain a man, and I chose to throw away everything to get one step closer to playing god. One step closer to seeing her again: Vanessa. **Paid the price to see this through, but now he knows he knows not what to do...** I try to explain to the creature that the military approached *me*. That they knew about my background in neurology and chemistry. That they knew I’d been attempting to bridge the gap between life and death. I try and *I try* to tell this monster that I only wanted the opportunity to say goodbye to my wife, but the creature doesn't care. It laughs. It stands in the shadows with its cold dim eyes, and it laughs as it heaves a sack from the dark of the doorway, tossing it onto the courtyard grass. The sack shifts. Squirms. It's as though there's something inside of it fighting to get free. The excuses spill from my lips before I ever formulate a thought, more explanations, more reasoning attempting to justify what cannot be justified. “I wanted to help people,” I sputter. “I wanted to help but the military wanted to use the project as a *weapon*. They made me push the patients too *far*. They made me hurt them, but it was never what I intended...” The last words draw out a choking sob. Flashbacks ignite in my mind. Relics long since buried and stuffed beneath sixteen years of trauma and psychological torment. I remember strapping patients to the chair, aided by my assistant, the younger, and still living Dr. Blaise. I remember stuffing their mouths with wood so they wouldn’t bite their tongues as we attached diodes to their skin and pumped their veins with my proprietary compound. We told them they were going to die. *Yes,* they said. *We know.* We told them they'd see a bright light, something coaxing them into the afterlife. This could last anywhere from several minutes to hours. Then, death would take them fully. At this, the question was always the same: *what happens after the light?* The answer never changed. Across a hundred separate subjects we observed that they would find themselves inside of a room. Somewhere familiar. The room would commonly be their childhood bedroom, or a place holding similar nostalgia. In there, they would feel limitless euphoria. Patients described the sensation as an overwhelming sense of spiritual openness, a deep peace that bordered on nirvana. This feeling would be strongest in the room, but would also extend to the rest of the structure– most commonly a house. We called this place their Sanctum. Inside of the Sanctum, dreams became reality. Dead pets would return to life,tails wagging and eyes beaming. Subjects would see lost relatives, visit with distant friends and even reunite with departed loved ones. The Sanctum was everything we'd been looking for. Everything *I'd* been looking for. At that point, I deemed the project a success, citing that we'd learned all that we needed. Death held nothing we should fear. My final request before shutting the operation down was to undergo the procedure myself. To see Vanessa one last time and say goodbye. But the military refused. They wouldn’t allow me to stop the project, nor would they allow me to undergo my own procedure. Their reasoning? A concern that without my expertise to guide the experiment, my team could lose me when I went under. That I might never return from my Sanctum. *We still need to go a little deeper*, they told me. *And we need you for that.* *How much deeper*, I'd asked. *What happens if the subjects leave their Sanctum?* I didn't know. I hadn't the faintest idea but I also couldn't imagine why anybody would *want* to. They all described feeling boundless joy in that place, and I wanted to experience that *too*. I wanted to see Vanessa, to hold her in my arms again and tell her how badly I'd missed her, how sorry I was for never getting a chance to say goodbye. So I agreed. I agreed because the procedure was complex, and not something I could perform on my own without the assistance of my team. I agreed because it was the only way I could hope to find closure in my life. After all, I still had so much to do before I checked out for good. It was at that point, however, that things became difficult. Unsurprisingly, Subjects didn't want to leave their Sanctums. Even after multiple rebirths and extensive coaching, the impulse to remain within the hallowed home proved too powerful to overcome. It was though some fundamental force of the afterlife was exerting its will. It did not want them to leave. And yet, we needed them to. I went back to the drawing board, theorizing multiple solutions, but each one proved a dead end. Until Blaise cracked the code. The theory was simple. Just as we used chemical mixtures to therapeutically kill the subjects, he designed one to overcome the Sanctum's pull. It would transform the Sanctum from a hallowed hall into a regular structure. Nothing special. Nothing capable of locking people within its orbit. Just a house. Nothing more. The results were theorized to be temporary, that just like the chemicals we used to resurrect and kill the patients, they would cycle out of their systems in time. *Harmless*, is the word he used. And he was right, at least about one thing. Removing the Sanctum proved successful at encouraging Subjects to venture into the void of the afterlife, a place we came to know as the Beyond. They described the Beyond as a place not so different from our world. It possessed similar trappings of modern life– cars, skyscrapers, people and birds, but there was something decidedly off about the whole experience. Subjects reported feeling disturbed in the Beyond. Uneasy and unwell. One subject described the experience as a creeping dread. “*With each step I take, I feel shadows falling across my soul. It’s like a darkness is swallowing me up, eating all of the light inside of me and leaving only misery.”* But just what was causing this couldn’t be exactly identified. On the contrary, it seemed to be caused by a great many things at once. For one, the buildings were filled with broken windows, glass littering the ground beneath them. The denizens of this place didn’t seem to mind, though. They’d wander everywhere naked, wide smiles plastered across their faces, their feet mindlessly moving across the glass and leaving trails of blood in their wake. But perhaps most unnerving of all was the fact that these smiling people never spoke a word. Never. Not in any Subject we observed did these phantoms appear to possess the ability or desire to engage in conversation– instead, they communicated entirely through a single vocal action: screaming. The Beyond, it seemed, was full of the sort of abject horror we all feared when discussing death. It was enough for me to give the military an ultimatum: cease this madness or lose my expertise. I was ready to leave. What began as a means to help people find closure had turned into a method of traumatizing individuals. *One more week*, they told me. *One more week of experiments, and then you can undergo the procedure. At that point we’ll have the data we need, and we can shut down the project for good. Deal?* At that point, I still believed the Subjects weren’t suffering anything more than the equivalent of a bad acid trip. That sure, their experience was traumatizing… but fundamentally unable to harm them. In a word, I believed everything was treatable with proper therapy. That the results were impermanent. God forgive me. **Lost within his memories... Oh, how I wonder what he sees...** The voice of the goliath brings me back. The creature's decrepit fingers work at the sack, untying the drawstring. It's humming. Singing to itself. Somehow, the song feels familiar. It occurs to me that it's the song that Vanessa and I shared, the one we played on our wedding day and the one I played when I stood alone, weeping at her grave. “I know you…” I say to the giant, realization dawning upon me. “I saw you... in the afterlife…” A new memory spins in my mind. I’m back in front of the General running the research facility, only this time I’m explaining that I can’t finish the week. *Why not?* he asks. *They aren’t coming back anymore,* I tell him. The Subjects, I meant. Half of them had died after venturing into the Beyond. The second part of the chemical cocktail designed to revive our dead patients had no effect on these individuals, and more curiously, their brain’s also showed signs of significant damage. It was as though portions had been burned away. Those who did return were somehow even worse. They described horrors that I still shudder to imagine, the sort of nightmares that crawl into your memories and refuse to leave. Each and every one of them would come back in tears, or gasping for breath. They’d throw themselves from their chairs. Rush for the door. *No*, they’d beg. *Never again. There’s something out there. Something twisted, and it wants me to suffer its pain.* The description was haunting, but it also presented a question: what was out there, and why did it want these subjects to bear its pain? It was a question I was happy to leave unanswered. We’d already lost dozens and traumatized the rest– there was no need to pursue this madness any further. But the academic part of me *did* ponder what lurked in the Beyond. And sadly, so did the academic part of Blaise. He became enthralled at the idea of discovering this creature, this devil that seemed to live in the forbidden wastelands of the afterlife. He became obsessed with it. I told the General in charge of the project that we needed to close this down before we let the genie out of the bottle, before we pushed too far and found something we could no longer deal with. But he liked Blaise’s idea more than mine. He liked the idea of the military wielding this monster for themselves, of using the destruction of a person’s Sanctum as a means of psychological coercion– after all, if you can convince an enemy that you’ll not only take their lives, but their salvation too, wouldn’t they submit near-instantly? Yes, it proved too tantalizing an advantage for the military to lose. That was around the time we discovered another horrifying reality: that Blaise’s method of temporarily removing a Subjects access to their Sanctum wasn’t temporary at all. Each and every Subject who had undergone his procedure was permanently cut off from their slice of heaven. That meant we weren’t just traumatizing people, we weren’t even just killing them. We were butchering their souls. I put my foot down. Flat out refused to continue this insanity. I told the General that he could do what he wanted with my paperwork because I wouldn’t be coming back for it– I’d never step foot in this awful place again. As much as I yearned to see Vanessa again, I could never do it at the cost of so many. No, I’d find my closure a different way. A healthier way. And then, when I was ready to pass on, I’d see her in my Sanctum when life saw fit. I made to leave, but two soldiers stopped me. The General told me he couldn’t let me go, that if he did I’d just go squealing to the press and put a damper on all the exciting discoveries we’d made. He wasn’t wrong. I planned on blowing the whistle the second I walked out the door. *Our current crop of Subjects have become difficult to gather data from,* the General explained to me. *I’ve got a list of drug addicts on skid row that’d jump at the chance to receive free doses of chemical nirvana, and I’m inclined to give them a call. Fill our stable all over again.* *Fuck you,* I told him. *Don’t you dare drag more innocent lives into this.* *Or maybe we could investigate using children? Their minds are far more malleable. Perhaps… uniquely equipped to deal with the mental stress of navigating the Beyond. What do you think, doctor?* I think I tried to attack him at that point. The memory is hazy because one of the two guards bashed me over the head with the grip of their sidearm, but I do remember begging him not to. *I’ll do anything,* I said. *Use me instead. I know what we’re looking for. I know enough about the Beyond to navigate it… to tell you exactly what you want to know. There's no need for children.* The General agreed. So it was that I became the military’s guinea pig. Every morning I’d be marched into the room I came to call the Death Chamber, and Blaise would fill me with my own compound, spiked with his Sanctum-Destroying addition. Every day I would die. I’d wander the Beyond for what felt like weeks at a time, only to be reborn hours later gasping and crying. And I’d tell them what I knew they wanted to hear. Nothing more. I did that for sixteen years. When I began, I was a young man, or at least younger– now, my hair has greyed. My body is frail. My memory has become a mess of disparate ideas and characters, a puzzle whose pieces don’t quite seem to fit. But this goliath… this monster made flesh is somehow stringing those pieces together again. It’s making sense of the senseless. **Did for me just what I asked... Now I give what he wants back...** Inside the sack, something squirms. A hand reaches out of the opening, followed by a mess of auburn hair. Then, freckled shoulders. A woman tumbles onto the courtyard grass, lying amidst slain researchers and soldiers. She's pale. Shivering. She's my everything. I scramble across the courtyard, hardly believing my eyes as I take Vanessa into my trembling arms. I squeeze her, weeping. My lips find her forehead and pepper it with kisses. I whisper into her ear how much she means to me, how much I've wanted to see her and how hard it's been without her. The goliath leans in, and now that it’s closer I see so many features I missed in the dark. The scar upon its cheek. The crooked nose and the thick patch of hair upon its head. It’s like looking in a funhouse mirror, one stretched and distorted. “Thank you,” I whisper. My cheek presses against Vanessa’s, and her flesh is cold enough that it feels like pins and needles on my skin but somehow, I’ve never felt warmer. Even now, as I sit amidst a circle of dead bodies, I find myself at peace. I did what I could. I did everything I could. In the wake of my imprisonment, the military ordered me to type up field reports each time I ventured in the Beyond. These reports were vetted by Blaise. The logic was that he had known me for years and would easily be able to determine if I was lying about any of my statements. If my information became unreliable, then the military would enact its contingency plan: using children as Subjects. This was something I did not want, and therefore I would comply with their requests. That was what they believed. Indeed, it was what I believed too– at least initially. But somewhere along the line, the situation changed, and I realized that I could have my cake and eat it too. I could put an end to this project, destroy every last person associated with it, and I could do it all while getting my closure. I learned early on that the previous Subjects had been telling the truth. That they were correct to be afraid of the Beyond. It wasn’t just that it was unnerving, it was that it was twisted. Demented. Inside of the Beyond, nothing seemed to make sense, with reality being replaced by a sort of Twilight Zone equivalent. There, birds didn’t fly. They crawled. They used their wings to shuffle across the ground, their broken legs dragging behind them. Cars were everywhere. They drove in haphazard loops, crashing into walls and street lights and even plowing through the screaming denizens of the Beyond. But nobody was behind the wheel. The cars were phantoms, moving on their own volition. These things were all uncomfortable. Disconcerting. But they were nothing compared to the real nightmare of the afterlife. A being I came to know as the Shadow. It was a creature of misery and loathing. It seemed to exist in a cloud of negativity, a miasma that stretched across the afterlife like an inescapable plague. The first time I encountered the Shadow, I’d been recording details on the Denizens. I pondered why they were all naked. Why they moved in such drone-like ways, marching forward incessantly, never stopping to eat or drink, or even rest. And why did they scream? Why were they always smiling and screaming? While pondering these questions, something strange occured. The Beyond began to shake. The buildings surrounding me, the tall skyscrapers absent of life began to tilt and groan, swaying on their foundations. What little glass remained in their windows shattered, raining around me like a blizzard. The Denizens stopped marching and began running-- sprinting from some unseen threat. Some of them crashed into walls, leaving bloody marks from their broken bodies, while others impaled themselves scrambling through the jagged edges of broken windows. I did not know what to do, so I merely stood and waited. And the Shadow found me. A tall, thin goliath that was almost unmistakable: it was me. A grotesque approximation, but fundamentally, this creature was me. It took me into its hands and my limbs screamed with pain as it began to crush my very bones to dust. Pain… that was something that one rarely felt in the afterlife. All aspects of it seemed so dulled, like distant memories… But the pain this creature imparted was more real and more agonizing than anything I’d felt in life. When I returned from that expedition, I begged Blaise not to send me back. I wept and pleaded, but both he and the General found my discovery to be too remarkable to abandon. They couldn’t wait to strap me down again, to pump me full of the afterlife compound and send me back into hell itself. I think they believed the Shadow to be some sort of angel. A sort of reaper that wrote the laws of the Beyond, and perhaps our Sanctums, but even then I knew better. Still, they wanted it for themselves. The idea of wielding such an entity, of manipulating it and turning it against their enemies likely proved too tempting a prospect to ignore. Before I knew it, I was back in the Beyond, back in that fractured wasteland where hope goes to die. Again and again. For years. I spent my time there running from the Shadow. I’d scramble with the Denizens whenever its thunderous footsteps approached, I’d hide under tables, in closets or even dash into still-driving cars. But it was never enough. Sooner or later, the Shadow would always find me. And when it did, it would torture me. The torture would be unique during each encounter, never allowing me the comfort of predicting the pain, acclimating to it. Once, it snapped my bones one by one. Another time it filled my eyes with broken glass. Each time it hurt me, I pleaded for mercy. I begged and I begged not to suffer its twisted delights, but it never cared to answer me. It merely conducted its business with a silent determination that bordered on robotic. For a long time, I wondered if it was capable of proper communication at all, or if it was merely serving some predetermined function. Until the day it answered me. I asked why it had dedicated its existence to torturing me, and it told me why: because I had spent my life torturing *it*. It was then that I learned our Shadows are more than devils. They’re guardians. Gatekeepers of our own personal Valhalla. They exist to keep order, to act as shepherds to the actors that play the parts in our Sanctum-induced fantasies. I discovered that each Denizen was a person from our memory, that they wandered aimlessly until called upon, and then they'd don the identity of whoever we desired. Perhaps they'd become a cherished teacher from childhood. Maybe an old friend. Maybe even a lost lover. And the Shadow is the maestro that makes the play go on. It does this because it has no choice– when you suffer, it suffers. It seeks to fulfill the whims of your Sanctum because to do otherwise means personal pain. The Shadow and Sanctums are sort of batteries, you see. They each receive a charge throughout your life, with the Sanctum being charged by your positive experiences– your moments of hope, joy, and love, and the Shadow being charged by the negative, those moments of self-loathing and grief. It’s why our emotions are fleeting. Why once they come, they seem to vanish in minutes or hours. They’re being fed into our own personal reserve– a reserve that exists inside of billions of individual pocket dimensions. Where these dimensions come from and how they first came to exist isn’t something I know, but I do know one thing. They’re real. I know this because I’ve helped people travel to them. Every time I injected my serum into their veins and allowed them to die and return again, I was sending them to an entirely new dimension independent of our own. But I didn’t stop there. No. I also helped something travel from that dimension to our own. A creature born of negativity and hatred. A Shadow. **Bottled up your misery, and now you take your leave from me...** I gaze up at the goliath and I say my own name. “Yes, Andrew. The link should be broken… you are free from my pain.” Even as the words leave my mouth, I have no idea what the consequences will be. When I die, having no Sanctum and no Shadow, where will it leave me? The wasteland of the Beyond? Or will even that be gone, without its caretaker? I do not know. All I know is that the horror of my experiments have been laid to rest. The worlds of life and death are once again separate as they were always meant to be. I write this now not to encourage others to follow in my footsteps and take up my research, but rather to heed my warning: some mysteries are better left unsolved. **Goodbye.** “Goodbye.” I watch the goliath rise up to its full height, and with a single spring of its legs, it leaps into the dark of the woods. Gone. I do not know what it intends to do here in our world, but it is my hope that without the torment of my own negativity, it will find its own sort of peace. In the meantime, I look down at the peace that I’ve found. Vanessa. She’s just the same as I remember her, the same as the day she died. I run a finger along her pale jaw, and her eyelids flutter. I watch her limbs twitch and her body shift as she awakes from her slumber. It takes me back to lazy Sundays in bed. It reminds me of those mornings we’d sleep in, where I’d wipe the sleep from her eyes and hold her close, wondering how my life could possibly be so perfect. “Hello again, darling,” I say. Vanessa looks up at me for the first time in sixteen years. She smiles. ​ ​ She smiles, and then she [screams](https://www.reddit.com/r/TalesFromTheCryptid/).

I moved into a new house. Some strange things happened to me

xwezrs

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xwezrs/i_moved_into_a_new_house_some_strange_things/

Last week I moved into a new house. It was something I’d been waiting my whole life for, because buying your own place is a … pretty big staple for most people. Putting all of my stuff in boxes and getting out of my brother’s smelly apartment was the best part of all of this, and I remember the day I moved in as the best day of my life. Looking back, though, I may have rushed into things a little. Ever since I moved into the house, I’ve been experiencing some strange things. Well. Strange is an understatement, really. Here’s what’s happened: >The day after I moved into the house, I tried taking the numerous paintings on the walls off. They were pretty graphic, and I didn’t want to be looking at them when I had dinner or was about to go to sleep–there were two in my room alone. And it would probably be better if they were small–I could pass them off as “antiques” or whatever, but one in the living room nearly spanned the whole wall. That’s 10 feet by nearly 12, and I wanted to get rid of it. > >I tried pulling it off first, thinking there were hooks or something there–that was not the case. So I grabbed a plier and a hammer, and I tried a couple more times, but it wouldn’t budge, and there was a low creaking sound coming from the wall, so I stopped trying to pull it off because I was worried I’d damage the drywall. I tried to pull off other, smaller paintings (there are about sixteen in total), but when I made my fifth attempt at doing so, it was like the house howled. The walls shook, and the TV I’d painstakingly mounted fell and shattered on the floor. > >At that point, I decided to just leave the paintings be. It wasn’t like I’ll be having guests over anyway for a while, and I can always figure things out with that later. ​ >My neighbor came by with a pie as a welcome thing and invited me to a party that they apparently have every week. I agreed to drop by, and put the pie on the kitchen counter as I went to unload some more stuff from my boxes, like some extra clothes and furniture I got from Ikea. > >Also, I managed to find a room upstairs that didn’t have one of those fucking paintings–it’s really small and smells like burned bacon for some reason, but that’s just a minor pain in the ass, compared to everything else. So I slept there because I was so tired from unpacking for a couple of hours, and when I came back downstairs to get the pie, I noticed that nearly half of it had been eaten. > >To my knowledge, I don’t have a sleepwalking problem, so I checked the whole place to see if there were any intruders, which there weren’t, but I called a home security company and ordered some alarms for my home–yelled a bit on the phone because I was scared and they told me these alarms normally had a two-day wait before installation– and then called the police and told them I’d thought there’d been a break-in. It was embarrassing to say the least, because there wasn’t really anything they could do about it except tell me to be more cautious. > >So I got some home security out of it, but I’ve been scared since, and I don’t go to bed anymore without triple-checking the locks on the front and back doors, and making sure every window is shut. ​ >I mentioned the neighborhood party, right? > >Well, it was this Sunday, so I went, and it was pretty fun. They had a barbeque and cupcakes! I have a horrendous sweet tooth, so I ate like twenty of the latter and skipped eating anything of the former. There are a lot of nice families here–some of them didn’t show up to the party because of a family tragedy, so the woman who gave me the pie–let’s call her Alex–just told me a little bit about them, and then offered me some beer. I had a couple, so when I got home–nearly 1:30 or a similar time–it took me a bit to open the door, which turned out to be a good thing. > >When I opened it, what I saw nearly gave me a heart attack. It was … my dead body, but I’m alive, so it couldn’t have actually been me. It looked like a proper murder scene, though, with blood splattered all over the walls, and the body propped up under the wall with the gigantic painting on it. I blinked, closed the door, and then opened it again to find nothing there. > >I probably just hallucinated, but it was really fucking unsettling, and paired with everything else, it scares me. Maybe my house is fucking haunted, but I can’t exactly move out right *now*–it hasn’t even been two weeks, and the house is pretty nice, beyond the paintings and the weird smell in my new room. It has three bedrooms, and two baths, which is great for it being dirt cheap. I’ve started wondering just *why* it was so cheap, though. My best guess as of right now is that the previous owner, a Mrs. Blumsey, went through similar stuff, had enough, and decided to move out. I’ve tried contacting her, but she wouldn’t pick up, and I don’t have her email or her family’s number, so I’ve just left her some texts in all caps and I hope she sees them and responds. The agency that sold me the house apparently moved states–I did a Google search and called them up, and apparently they only operate in Florida. I do not live in Florida. It’s just all a very *weird* bit of affairs, and I feel like things will only get stranger, which I do *not* want to happen. I’ve started thinking the house doesn’t like me, but it also doesn’t hate me. Yet. I haven’t slept in a bit, so I’m going to take a nap. Maybe I’ll get up and investigate more, or straight up call an exorcist. I'll put an update here when that happens.

Before taking revenge, always dig two Graves.

xvrzh2

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xvrzh2/before_taking_revenge_always_dig_two_graves/

I rarely went out drinking. Never by myself and only If I was invited out by friends or co-workers and having a few, but I never had the goal of getting drunk. On a cold fall night, I hesitated outside a bar I’ve never entered before watching my breath come out in white puffs. I wanted to get drunk that night. Just black out the next few hours no matter the cost. This wasn’t like how I normally felt but my life now didn’t feel normal. After that day it was as if the world shifted into a darker one and I couldn’t return how things were before. A weight of guilt pressed on my back and into the bar. I sat alone at the wooden bar half listening to the random soccer gamer re-run on the mounted flat screens off to the side. I started off slow with a beer or two, letting myself feel miserable for a time before I drank something heavier. Picking at the damp label on the bottle, the dark feeling that drove me into this place started to overpower the rest of my senses. Someone sat next to me at the bar and ordered a beer only to find himself a little short. He looked through a wrinkled grey suit jacket for a few seconds muttering that he had more change somewhere. On reflex, I put down a few dollars on the counter to cover his drink and a tip for the bar tender. The man turned his head towards me and gave a half smile as thanks. My head a bit hazy from the drinks already but I sobered up a small bit seeing the man’s face. A shock went down my spine, some sort of instinct telling me to run. I shook is off wondering where the hell that feeling came from. He didn’t look dangerous or the kind of person you should avoid in a dark alley. His hair grey and pushed back with some strands coming loose making him look to be overdue for a haircut. His face didn’t look old enough to be fully grey. A few wrinkles appeared at the corner of his mouth when he smiled making me think he was only ten years older than myself. His grey suit jacket and scuffed shoes made him appear like an underpaid office worker going to the bar for a drink after a long day. I brushed off the first jolt of that odd feeling seeing him and got back to drinking. I thought he wouldn’t want to talk and just have his beer then leave. I sensed eyes on me when I downed the last of my drink debating on getting something stronger. That dark feeling came back, slowly drowning out the sounds of the bar. My stomach twisted and hands trembled slightly with images of the news report coming to my mind. The reason why I came wanting to get blacked out making my mouth tasting bitter. “Having a bad night?” The voice cut through my feelings causing me to swim back up through them to the present. The man sat backwards on the stool to lean against the bar and place both elbows on the counter. His head titled in my direction and a half smile on his face. His voice sounding as if he smoked a pack every day of his life since he’d been born. His tone so low I was surprised I even heard him. Here I thought talking to random strangers over a drink was something that only happened in movies or books. I’ve never went out of my way to talk to someone while out in public, that was for sure. “It’s complicated.” I told him, looking away feeling far too raw. “You covered my drink. The least I can do is listen.” The stranger offered with another smile that unnerved me. His body relaxed and yet he gave off the air of a hunter. He wanted to hear the reason why I felt so miserable for his own enjoyment. “What are you, a therapist?” I shot back with a small sound of displeasure. “A therapist would cost a lot more than half the price of a single beer.” He replied, the smile turning into something a bit warmer. I hated the fact I laughed a little at his answer. Talking to a random stranger was safer than getting completely trashed that night. I doubted he would honestly care about anything I said and just wanted to pass some time. I collected myself trying to figure out the best way to word what got me in this downward spiral. “I worked at a restaurant during the day. I have a night job so those shifts were fine for me. The restaurant normally got busy at dinner time and the tips were better so I tried to pick up a night shift when I wasn’t at my other job. A new girl started a month ago. Abby she... Wasn’t even twenty yet." I needed to stop talking for a moment. My throat getting tight and the words not wanting to come. The stranger waited patiently, his bottle of beer long since dismissed for something much more interesting. “I didn’t know what went on at the night shift. The night manager really acted creepy around all the younger girls they hired until the quit because of him. I found out about it when I took a later shift and saw him push past Abby and touched her on purpose. I threatened to kick his ass if he did that again and he threatened to fire me. I think seeing someone defend her made Abby feel better about opening up about what the guy been doing. She dismissed most of it as accidents though.” I stopped to drink the rest of my bottle hating how this story turned out. The man leaned back a little, wanting to hear more but worried if he pressed, I would shut down. I knew telling him all of this didn’t mean anything. It wouldn’t change the past or bring back a poor girl that did nothing wrong. “I went to the owner and brought proof of what went down. He fired me shortly after and I figured out then the other manager is his cousin. A man who already did time for stalking and assault and should never be around younger girls. I... started to get ready to sue them for firing me for no reason. That doesn’t matter now. I should have focused on getting her to a safe place, or drag the cops over before....” I stopped again, my stomach turning. “Before?” The low tone came, the man leaning down as if we were sharing a secret. “I heard on the news Abby was found dead, strangled and assaulted. Jesus, she was only nineteen. If I said something to the right person, she would be alive. I can’t stop thinking about that. I should have done so much more for her.” The man leaned back, mentally chewing on what I told him. I didn’t expect him to say anything comforting. I wanted to punish myself and telling the story hurt. Not enough though. It just wasn’t fair a girl lost her life and the man who did it wasn’t arrested yet. They claim they don’t have enough evidence but by the time they do, he’ll be long gone targeting another girl. “I wonder if some people go to church because they relate to the whole dying for others sins idea. You can do nothing wrong in life and yet feel guilty for others actions. Here you are blaming yourself for a death and yet you did nothing to cause it. Is your ego so large you think you’re on the same level as the son of God?” He was still leaning against the counter, a smug look on his face. My face flushed red and rage filled up in my stomach. I was to blame for at least some of what happened and this guy tried to twist it all around. I wanted to punch that look off his face. Seeing my rage, his face only brightened. I realized that I felt something besides self-pity. He wanted me to get angry at someone besides myself. “You’re an ass, aren’t you?” I asked, my rage simmering down. “You figured that out fast. Do you smoke?” He pulled out a package of cigarettes from his suit pocket and I shook my head. I quit a year ago when I couldn’t afford them. “No, not anymore.” I said wondering if he was just going to leave if I refused to have a smoke with him. “One won't hurt yah. Come outside and clear your head.” A hand landed on my shoulder. For some reason, I listened to him. I never talked to strangers, let alone follow them to the parking lot of a bar to accept a cigarette. The man pulled out a cheap orange disposable lighter that needed a few tries to get it to work. I shuddered in the cold, wrapping my arms under each other to stay warm. The smoke break and the chilly air did clear my head a little. Oddly enough, I felt better after I recovered from hacking up a lung from taking a drag for the first time in over a year. “It’s not your fault you know. The only one responsible for that girl’s death is the one who took her life. I pressured you into smoking, but you made the choice to come outside. Even if that man had a gun to his head and it was his life or hers, he would still be the one who choose his life.” I wasn’t expecting that kind of talk from someone who looked as scruffy as he did. I coughed again, the freezing air and smoke hurting my lungs. I thought about what he said. It all made sense, and I knew what he was getting at and yet I couldn’t accept it. If I’d just got her to somewhere safe a girl, I barely knew would be still alive. How could I not be to blame for that? A dangerous glint came to his eyes when he knew I simply couldn’t forgive myself. “If that man gets arrested, would it make you feel better?” He questioned. His voice took on a different tone then before. A hint of excitement in the words. He reminded me of a spider watching a fly get closer and closer to the web. The question a lead up to a trap I wasn't aware of just yet. “Yes.” I said right away. My head turned feeling the weight of the lie. “No. He’s alive, she’s not. How is that fair at all?” My words sounded thick in my mouth and my shoulders shook from emotion. I played it off as if I was just cold. I didn’t turn around when the other man took a step closer. He was right behind me; I could smell the smoke of his cigarette mixing in with my own. Alarm bells went off in my head and yet I didn’t leave or move away. Goosebumps rose on my arms my body tense waiting for his voice. “Would you like to even the score?” The words came on the back of my neck, and cemented into my brain. My heart twisted over the truth of it all. I did want to make it fair. I wanted the killer dead. I didn’t have any say in the matter though. I wasn’t Abby’s family, just a co-worker for a short while. I had no right answering the stranger at my back. The answer still came. “Would you... Do that for me?” I asked, carefully looking over my shoulder unaware of what kind of person I just met. His grey eyes flickered in the darkness. A silver light came but only lasted long enough for me to assume I was seeing things. His mouth turned into a smile and for some reason, I thought his teeth looked too sharp. I never should have spoken to him. Getting drunk and wallowing in my grief would have been a better outcome of the night. Besides the whole moral debate, I risked getting arrested for murder if this man actually went through with my request. “I’ll take care of this for you. You did cover for my drink. And don’t worry about the police being involved. The way I do things never cause the ones who hire me to get in any legal trouble. But I do ask for you to be present during the confrontation.” He started to walk around me and searched around his suit jacket looking for something. He handed over a card with his number hand written on it, the scrap of paper feeling heavy in my hand. My brain reeling from the idea of what I agreed to. “A man’s life for half the cost of a beer...?” I said, mostly to myself. “People have died for less. That man didn’t think much of that girl’s life, now did he?” I agreed with that statement. My cigarette already burned out leaving no reason to stay outside. I still had time to clear my head and cancel all of this. I told the other man the name of the manger, although he could have easily found it by checking today's news. He walked off into the night with a promise to call in the next few days. I wanted to regret what I just put into motion. Abby’s face and thinking of her parent’s needing to bury her removed all feelings of doubt. That man needed to be taken care of before he hurt another person. Turns out, we didn’t stop that from happening. The call came two nights after I met the man at the bar. I wanted to believe I dreamed up the entire encounter. An unknown number came through on my cell. Right away I knew it wasn’t a scam caller. I let it ring for a moment, letting my thumb hover over the screen. “You doing anything tonight?” The voice asked, not even bothering to confirm he got the right number. We didn’t even introduce ourselves yet and we were now planning a murder. “Tonight?” I question, pulse racing. “Best to get it done and over with. Unless you have something more important to do. Got a hot date?” He finished the question with a faint laugh. Still a chance to back out I reminded myself. I shook my head and steeled my resolve. My entire body wanting to run from my phone but my brain forcing to stay still. “We can do this tonight.” I told him, the words weighing on my shoulders. “Great, come and pick me up at the bar we met at. I don’t have a car.” He hung up, leaving me to stew on what I was doing. We were going to kill someone. Did that put me on the same level as the manager? No, I decided. He assaulted Abby then killed her. I felt positive the manager only strangled her when he panicked thinking she might report him to the police. That man did not deserve the freedom he killed a girl for. My muscles tensed the entire drive to the bar. The sun already set due to how late in the season it become. No one else really out on the roads and that suited me just fine. Every time a car passed by it felt like they knew what my plans were for that night. That a driver would pull over and call the police to stop us. No one but myself and the accomplice knew of the plan though. I saw him waiting outside and didn’t stub out his cigarette when he got into the passenger seat. He rolled down the window to let the smoke out. I hated the idea of my car smelling of smoke, but was too wired to bring it up. “Should we uh... give each other our names?” I finally asked. He put a location in his phone and put the volume up for the directions so I knew where to go. His face turned into a smile that didn’t suit someone on the way to do such a grim task. “You don’t need to give me yours but I go by Graves.” He explained. I stopped at a red light and looking him over. Grey suit jacket, grey pants, grey hair and eyes. The color reminded me of a gravestone. Rolling my eyes, I focused on the road again. “Isn’t that a bit on the nose?” I said causing him to laugh a little. That calmed me enough to keep driving. The GPS directed us to a regular neighborhood. One a bit more run down than other but still a place where people can raise their kids. The grass on each lawn a different length showing no HOA put up shop here. I parked across the street from the address given. All the blood rushing from my limbs to my head thinking how we were going to do this. Were we going to what? Break in? Shoot him? Stab him? Would it be bloody? The lights were on so we needed to wait until the ones inside went to sleep. What if he lived with someone else? I didn’t get a chance to ask any of these questions. Graves got out of the car and started to walk right over to the house. “Hey, wait!” I called after him. He already reached the front door by the time I got halfway across the road. He knocked and patiently waited. Really? He was just going to knock? An older women opened the door and my heart sank. We had the wrong house, I knew it. We needed to get the hell out of there. To my horror, he pushed past her, calling out the manager’s name. This already turned into a huge mess. The women didn’t notice me and more worried about the strange man inside her house. I stopped at the open doorway as if an invisible force field kept me out. I pushed past it, entire body itching. “Graves, what the hell are you doing?” I questioned but my voice lacked any force. I saw the women and wanted to go over to her to explain I was going to drag the intruder the hell out of her house. A sight caused me to freeze. Graves suddenly started to run through the open doorway, a second person easily heard running towards the back door. In under a minute, he came back dragging my old night manager into the living room by his shirt collar. The women started to scream, begging us to leave and demanded to know what we wanted with her son. I couldn’t answer her. I never imagined another person getting dragged into all of this and felt lost. There was no way I could tell her we arrived to kill her son. But Graves could say those words. “This man killed an innocent little girl so we decided he shouldn’t be able to live anymore.” He answered in such a calm voice it caused my blood to turn to ice water. The mother threw herself on the manager, making Grave’s to let go of his shirt. Neither of them tried to run as she sobbed, holding her adult son. “Don’t! He's the only thing I have left of my husband! I can’t lose them both!” She begged in a heavy voice. I honestly didn’t care about that. This man should be in prison and because he wasn’t a girl died. She wasn’t entitled to keeping her child when that meant another set of parents needed to bury theirs. “She was a little slut that-” Graves didn’t let the man finish his sentence. He kicked out his foot, smashing the manager’s nose with his heel. Blood sprayed and poured down his face. The nose broken from the kick from the looks of things. The next few moments went by so fast none of us really had a chance to process it. The manager grabbed a gun that he hidden in the waistband of his sweatpants. His mother saw the weapon and threw herself into a struggling match trying to get it away. She didn’t want to watch her son kill anyone, or watch someone hurt her little boy. I took two steps forwards ready to end this fight and just leave. All noise disappeared to be replaced by one muffled pop between the two of them. We all became as still as statues. Graves staring down, his grey eyes wide in an unreadable emotion. The mother fell to the side and I ran over to her, frantic. Blood soaked through her dress from a small point in her chest. My hands flying to the spot, putting pressure on it in a vain attempt to save her life. Warm blood seeped through my fingers making them feel slick and sticky at the same time. I cried, begging for someone to call for help. The others in the room not moving in the slightest. Graves broke first. A small snicker of a laugh came, then another. Soon he bent over to let out a terrible wheezing laugh. I hated him in the moment for that. I wanted to avenge Abby, not get another innocent person killed. His name clicked and I realized he really picked something incredibly accurate for his gruesome hobby. His laughing fit made the manager snap. He turned the weapon on Graves, getting one shot off. The man turned into a blur of grey. Suddenly he was on the ground behind the man with the gun, holding his wrists by wrapping his arms around the other man. I watched Graves force the manager to bring barrel of the gun ever closer to under his own chin. The manager struggled but Graves didn’t even look as if he out that much strength into forcing the man’s arms back. My brain caught up too slowly. I shouted for him to stop in the same moment the gun went off a second time. Graves stood up, wrinkles appearing at the corners of his eyes from a wide smile. Two dead because of me. I never should have spoken to this man. “She’s dead. Let's go.” Graves said in a soft voice that made my skin crawl. I looked down at the mother, he eyes still open but nothing behind them. I couldn’t move my legs. Nothing happened when I told myself to stand up. The other man grabbed a hold of my upper arm and forcefully made me stand. Step by step, we let the house. I faintly wondered why no one called the police yet or came to see what happened due to all the noise. I was shoved into my passenger seat, Graves starting the car to leave behind the crime scene. We drove for an unknown amount of time. My brain not processes anything because of shock. I got dragged out of the car again and into a bathroom. I finally realized he parked at a truck stop and wanted me to use the bathroom sink to wash the blood of my hands. Seeing the dark color staining my hands I nearly got sick. I hurried over to the line of sinks and didn’t bother with soap. I just let the hot water run over my hands, scrubbing with tears coming to my eyes. It stayed at the sink for a while. Using as much soap as I could and yet the blood stuck. My hands became raw from scrubbing but I didn’t stop. I let out a sound of fear when Graves stood behind to wrap his hands around mine. He forced them under the water, keeping them still. He also turned the temperature down so I stopped burning the layers of skin off of them. “Don’t burn yourself. Let them soak. Blood gets under your nails and stays for a while.” His voice right beside my ear making my body shake. Having him like this looked so similar to how he forced the manager to shoot himself. The embrace held a dark undertone instead of comforting. My eyes went to the mirror and nearly fainted seeing a shadow came over his face. His pupils shining a bright white in the dark. A light flickered off in the bathroom, then another. The room turned pitch black with only two pin pricks of white lights coming from his eyes. A hot breath came on my neck. I jerked back my hands only to have him interlace his fingers through my own making them stay under the running water. My heart stopped for a second when another set of eyes appeared in the mirror. Then another more of those pin pricks of lights swam out through the dark. I heard the sounds of the faces appearing at my back but could only see those lights. Each head darting back and forth, twisting into each other. Soft sounds of different animals echoed through the small bathroom almost overpowering the running water. “I haven’t eaten a good meal in sometime. Would be so kind as to spare-” Graves voice changed. It sounded deeper and rough, almost inhuman. He thankfully didn’t get a chance to finish the question. A trucker opened the bathroom door, the lights coming back on the moment the other person stepped inside. Graves returning to a human form, and his body tensed when we were caught in such an odd position. Through my fear I realized the other man was still holding my hands from behind. That made the whole situation look very different to the newcomer. “Uhh, I can leave if you guys want to... Finish what you’re doing.” The trucker offered in an embarrassed drawl. “We were just leaving.” The monster of the man said almost sounding embarrassed. He grabbed me around my waist so we could flee the bathroom and back to my car. I didn’t get inside, just leaned against it. Slowly falling down the side and to the ground. Wet hands starting to freeze in the night air. The sensation giving me something else to focused on. “Sorry for that little moment. I really haven’t eaten much in a bit. Lost control for a second.” Graves apologized and sat on the curb nearby. He pulled out a smoke but his lighter gave out on him. He used a set of matches he picked up from some hotel or casino. I should have got the hell out of there but the night drained my strength. “That woman is dead. I brought you there. I killed her.” I said finally pushing the words out. “Her son bought the gun. Grabbed it. Kept his finger on the trigger. Killed a girl that caused you to be upset enough to bring me along. He’s more at fault than anyone.” He offered. “Then why can’t I forgive myself?! Why don’t I feel better at all knowing he won’t hurt anyone else! Why am I...” My words faded and I broke out into tears. Hard sobbing that hurt my chest. The break down so heavy and hard it only lasted a few minutes. My body couldn’t keep up crying at that pace. The other man didn’t say anything or look disgusted by my sudden break down. He lit another cigarette off his nearly finished one. Walking over, he bent low to place the one end so close to my lips he nearly forced it in my mouth. “You’re a good person. And I’m not. I like watching people like you go through shit like this. If you’re going to hate anyone, hate me for even offering to kill that man in the first place.” I accepted the smoke, hurting my lungs so soon after I nearly busted a rib from sobbing. I wanted to hate Graves but he made it very hard when he sounded so damn gentle. He straightened up and I punched his leg for giving so many mixed signals. He took the hit but skittered away before I could get him again. “Now what?” I asked feeling exhausted. “I leave. You never seen me again. You’ll never be legally reasonable for their deaths and you’ll blame yourself over what happened for the rest of your left.” He explained with a shrug. I stared at him, trying to figure him out. He wasn’t human, that was for certain. I oddly accepted that idea right away. It was natural for a monster to kill and hurt people without a second thought or reason and yet a feeling nagged in the back of my mind. He was a monster. No human could ever see him as anything but that. The ash on my cigarette dropped on my pants and I let a small ember slightly burn my jeans. The only way Graves made connections was in a negative way. I would never really be able to forget about this night, and deep down he wanted that. Maybe more than he wanted to have fun watching others die or suffer by his own hands. “You’re a pretty lonely person, aren’t you?” I asked. My words caught him off guard. I don’t think anyone ever asked him such a thing before. An expression came over his face that didn’t suit him in the slightest confirming my theory. He shoved his hands deep into his pants pockets trying to thinking of a way to dispute what I said. “I need to get going. It's not best if I hang around you this hungry. I might just take a bite and that won’t do at all.” I didn’t argue over him leaving. He mentioned he didn’t have a car but I knew he would have no problem getting to wherever he needed to be next. I debated on calling the cops, then decided against it. If he wasn’t human, he must have a way to sway the police in the way he wants. No, Graves would keep travelling around offering the same deal to people like me. If for some reason you come across him, you really need to keep his name in mind. Taking revenge always ends up with collateral damages. Even if that mother didn’t die that night, she would have lost someone she loved. Death ripples outwards. Regardless if the person is loved or not, death changes the world in ways you might not understand. You just need to decide if you’re able to deal with the unforeseen aftermath of your actions.

I'm an archivist for a private university. I found some strange tape recordings. [PART 6]

xvu1pf

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xvu1pf/im_an_archivist_for_a_private_university_i_found/

[[PART 1]](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/x2tn6o/im_an_archivist_for_a_private_university_i_found/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3) [[PART 2]](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/x4ncte/im_an_archivist_for_a_private_university_i_found/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3) [[PART 3]](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/x8kcd8/im_an_archivist_for_a_private_university_i_found/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3) [[PART 4]](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xg5a6g/im_an_archivist_for_a_private_university_i_found/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3) [[PART 5]](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xp6cq1/im_an_archivist_for_a_private_university_i_found/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3) [[FINALE]](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y02yt3/im_an_archivist_for_a_private_university_i_found/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3) Naissance here. I had to leave— that’s what I told myself. I felt like that man was a threat. Not only was he threatening me, but also the recordings that we’ve explored together here, in these posts. I am now convinced that to destroy them before we reach the end would be a massive disservice, not only to all of you, but to finding the truth. I only hope that the man didn’t catch wind of my deception, and knew where I was heading. Who knows what this organization is capable of… I knew that Clara was hiding something when we first talked. The fact that she had been looking for a ‘gateway’ herself; all these years. The guilt she must feel for leaving her husband to die. It was all starting to make sense. I knew how she felt. Listening to all of these tapes— I wanted to go too. I wanted to go to *The Place*, even knowing the dangers. Just the mere existence of such a thing, it’s… *fascinating*. I had to join her in her search. Of that I knew. I had a productive spurt as soon as I got to the motel. Therefore, two transcripts today. It finally feels as though everything is coming together. ___ **TAPE 4A: ‘CONCRETE’** DATED: NOVEMBER 22ND, 2000 ___ **\[START\]** \[HEAVY RAIN\] \[KNOCKING\] NGUYEN: NYPD! \[KNOCKING\] NGUYEN: NYPD! Is anyone there? DOBERMAN: No dice. NGUYEN: \[SIGH\] Fucking department. How are we supposed to make any kind of break in this case if we can’t take any initiative? DOBERMAN: Rules are rules, Detective Nguyen. We’d ruin the case in court. \[HEAVY POUNDING\] NGUYEN: NYPD! Open up! Don’t make us take this door down! DOBERMAN: Nguyen! NGUYEN: These people are possibly alive, Doberman. We don’t have time to wait for a warrant. It’s been far too long already. Getting them out should be our number one priority. DOBERMAN: How are you sure it’s here? NGUYEN: Look at this place. A door tucked in a maze of alleyways and corridors; hidden in the most populous city in the States. All of the missing persons were last seen in this area. When we got that anonymous tip— we had to check it out. DOBERMAN: But how do you *know*? NGUYEN: Listen, Doberman. I’ve worked on some of the most horrifying and heinous cases for the last thirteen years. Serial murders, torture. Kidnapping and abuse. The feeling I get from this door— it's the same feeling. Something is wrong here, Doberman. DOBERMAN: Nguyen, you know that’s not good police work. We can’t operate off of a hunch. NGUYEN: This is it, Doberman! I’m telling you! DOBERMAN: That’s *not* enough, Nguyen! NGUYEN: Fine. Suit yourself. \[METAL CLICKING\] DOBERMAN: So what, you’re gonna pick the lock? Great… \[METAL CLINK\] NGUYEN: There. Now are you coming or not? DOBERMAN: \[SIGHS\] \[DOOR CREAKS\] \[COUGHING\] DOBERMAN: Jesus— that smell… NGUYEN: Fuck… \[DOOR SHUTS\] \[FLIES BUZZING\] DOBERMAN: What could have done this? NGUYEN: I don’t know. DOBERMAN: What the hell… NGUYEN: Come on, Doberman. Let’s do our job. \[ZIPPING, SNAP OF GLOVES\] NGUYEN: Two deceased. Sitting up against the wall. Dismembered. One male, maybe in his forties. One female, also forties. A lot of heavy clothing, and layers. What, was there a storm recently? What do you think? DOBERMAN: No idea. Decomp? \[PAUSE\] NGUYEN: Both In putrefaction; roughly 2-3 weeks old? DOBERMAN: I’d say so. Blood has gone dry, stained the floor underneath them. This happened a while ago. NGUYEN: Multiple lacerations across the torso and head. Arms and legs missing. These wounds… It doesn’t look normal for dismemberment. Usually trauma like this can only be done with a sharp, heavy weapon, yet… DOBERMAN: The tears, in the skin and flesh. They were torn off. NGUYEN: What could do that? DOBERMAN: No human I know. Especially through that thick clothing. Maybe a firearm? Point-blank shotgun shell? NGUYEN: I don’t know. We’ll have to bring in a ballistics expert. Besides, there’s no shells, or bullet holes. DOBERMAN: Hm. \[PAUSE\] NGUYEN: Doberman. Look around. Notice anything? DOBERMAN: What? NGUYEN: No blood. On the walls, or scattered around. It looks like it flowed right from the bodies to the front of that hatch at the end of the room. Don’t you think there would be more blood everywhere else if their wounds were so violent? DOBERMAN: Yeah, there should. Do you think they were killed elsewhere, and brought here? NGUYEN: Maybe? No— they couldn’t have been. There’s no drag marks in the blood. It’s like they died here, and their blood was drained and flowed into that hatch. DOBERMAN: What? That’s absurd. Where are these missing limbs, too? NGUYEN: I don’t know. This isn’t an ordinary homicide. DOBERMAN: Well, shit. I’ll go call it in with the radio, Detective Nguyen. Then we can investigate that hatch. NGUYEN: Alright, I’ll finish some things up here. \[DOOR OPENS, SHUTS\] \[SHUFFLING\] NGUYEN: Hm? \[PATTING\] NGUYEN: A cassette tape recorder? Interesting. What were you doing with this? \[FAINT, INHUMAN SCREECHING\] NGUYEN: Huh? \[DOOR OPENS, SHUTS\] DOBERMAN: Detective Nguyen? Are you alright? NGUYEN: Uh, yeah. I’m alright. DOBERMAN: We’ve got a couple of squad cars on the way to help us clear the building and check that hatch. Whoever did this could still be here. Though, with how old these bodies are, I doubt it. NGUYEN: Y-yeah, alright. Let’s wait for them in the car. I’m getting sick here. DOBERMAN: Uh, sure. NGUYEN: Why don’t we let the officers take this one? We can come back after they’ve given the all-clear. DOBERMAN: Are you sure? Don’t you usually like taking point on these things? NGUYEN: Not this time, Doberman. Let’s let these guys earn their paychecks. **\[END\]** ___ After transcribing 4A, I took a little break. I ordered delivery, which was maybe a mistake. It only fueled my paranoia. I imagined that men in black masquerading as my delivery driver would knock on the door of my motel room, taking advantage of my hunger to apprehend me, and to confiscate the tapes. I was so in my head that when there *was* a knock on my door, probably my food, I didn’t answer. I sneakily looked through the blinds to see a young teenager, probably no older than 18, impatiently waiting with a box of pizza in his hands. They would have to try harder than that. Through the window, I noticed the swirling sky had a red hue to it. Red and orange. Not like a setting sun, but like guts and viscera. It was blurry, like a dream, its vastness attempting to consume me. I paid it no mind. The line between my visions and reality had already begun to blend to the point that it was now inconsequential. I took a long shower to decompress and collect my thoughts. What was my plan? I was sure that I wanted to confront Clara again. I knew what she was looking for, and I wanted to look for it too. I had to see it for myself. I wanted to know what awaited me in *The Place*. After my shower, I stared at myself in the mirror, remembering what had happened the last time I stared back at my reflection. I expected something to happen. My flesh being torn apart, or a twisted, malformed Jeffrey Stevens smiling back at me. Bloody hands coming out, and pulling me inside. But no such thing occurred. The thing is— part of me wanted it to. Everything that place had shown me, all I knew. I wanted more. I wanted it to show me more. In a fit of anger, I slammed my fists into the mirror, shattering it into bits of sharp broken glass. I pulled my hands back quickly, a large, red gash now present on my left hand. It hurt like hell, but I just sat there, and stared at it. Into the flowing, crimson gorge I had just created. Walls of flesh on either side, flooded with dark red blood. It was like I was in a trance. I gazed into myself, seeing the inner workings of *The Place*. It was here all along, borne of wound. Our bodies were made of that scarlet abyss. ___ **TAPE 4B: ‘WHITEOUT’** DATED: MAY 25TH, 2012 ___ **\[START\]** ROSS: May 25th, 2012. 11:32 AM. Log #1. This is Ida Ross, former climatologist at \[STATIC\]. Next to me is Howard Graham, geologist and atmospheric physicist. In the time since \[STATIC\] went defunct, we have continued our work. GRAHAM: Right now, we are at an old satellite of \[STATIC\], called Lambda base. The initial goal of Lambda base was to find a ‘gateway’, a… portal, if you will, in Eastern Antarctica. Our job was to try to understand the physiology and inner workings of the place beyond that portal. Eventually, the main purpose of \[STATIC\] changed to sealing the gateways. The place they lead to, they called it… ROSS: *Cruentum Altarae*. The bloody altar. GRAHAM: Yes. The problem is, Lambda never found the gateway in Antarctica. Long after \[STATIC\] fell apart, the location of the gateway was never revealed. But now— ROSS: Now we have a lead. An S.O.S. signal was intercepted by one of our associates. A research team, unrelated to us, has gone missing near the Amery Ice Shelf, easternmost Antarctica. The signal was soon followed by a rescue attempt, yet the research team was nowhere to be found. This sort of thing isn’t uncommon, but considering it is in the region we were looking at all those years ago… GRAHAM: There is a chance. ROSS: Yes, there is a chance. GRAHAM: To finally see it, with our own eyes. \[METALLIC CLICK\] \[WIND HOWLING\] ROSS: May 31st, 2012. 2:47 PM. Log #2. We are roughly twelve kilometers from the reported location of the S.O.S. signal. A sudden blizzard forced us to take shelter in a small inlet at the bottom of a shallow crevasse. This is where we chose to set up camp for the night. We are relatively safe from the elements here, but our small team could only pack so many supplies. Hopefully, we are not stuck here for more than a couple of days. \[MAN GROANING\] ROSS: That… is one of our team members. He broke his leg coming down into the crevasse. Treating it in these extreme conditions has been challenging. \[SNOW SHUFFLING\] GRAHAM: Ida, \[UNINTELLIGIBLE\]— his temperature is dropping. We need blankets, clothes— anything you can spare. ROSS: Here. \[ZIPPING\] ROSS: Take this. Make sure the others don’t turn on the stove. The ceiling will melt. GRAHAM: Of course, thank you Ida. \[METALLIC CLICK\] \[STRONG WIND HOWLING\] ROSS: June 1st, 2012, 8:40 AM. Log #3. It’s the morning of the next day, and the blizzard is still raging outside. It’s gotten worse. Complete whiteout. You cannot see further than an extended hand. The most we can do, at this point, is ration our supplies and wait. A few members of our team, including Howard, opted to check the crevasse for the gateway. It turns out to be much larger than we initially thought. A crescent slice in a snowy wasteland. Roughly two kilometers lengthwise. I can feel that place calling to me. It’s close, of that I know. It’s a large distance to cover, and there are plenty of places to hide an entrance to *Cruentum Altarae.* Only time will tell. \[METALLIC CLICK\] ROSS: June 1st, 2012, 10:12 AM. Log #4. Howard’s team just got back about 10 minutes ago in a panic. One of the members of our team, David Schuertz, was bleeding profusely from a wound on his abdomen. A trail of frozen blood dotted the snow from where they came from. He had tripped, and fell on jagged ice. That makes two injured so far. This was going to make the expedition more difficult than we could have imagined, and we haven’t even found the gateway yet. Things are beginning to look grim; but I know, sometime soon, we will find— GRAHAM: Ida? May I speak with you? ROSS: Yes? GRAHAM: Schuertz is stable. Our medic was able to stop the bleeding. The thing is— well, it’s the behavior of his blood. ROSS: The behavior? GRAHAM: The blood; the moment it touched the ground, it should have frozen. The temperature is well below freezing, after all— but it didn’t. It stained the snow, then a thin stream of red flowed deeper into the crevasse. It was feeding, Ida. *Cruentum Altarae*. \[PAUSE\] ROSS: Do we tell the others? GRAHAM: Morale is low. We have injured. I say we take a look, just us, during the night. We’ve been waiting for this, Ida. This is our moment. We can see this place for ourselves. What do you think? ROSS: I think that’s an excellent idea, Howard. \[METALLIC CLICK\] ROSS: June 1st, 2012, 11:32 PM. Log #5. An altar of blood. A system of caverns, inherently illogical, bending space and time. The existence of this place holds incredible scientific value; yet, what draws me to it is something more akin to… *fascination*. For what value does science have, if not to push human understanding of the illogical, the unknown; no matter the peril. \[STATIC\] was afraid. It led to its failure. Howard and I have found what we think is the threshold between our reality and that place. We will see. Soon. \[METALLIC CLICK\] ROSS: Log #6. Lining the walls is the crimson, bulbous flesh of *Cruentum Altarae*. The metallic taste of blood reaches us with every breath. It would be an understatement to say Howard and I are excited. We are euphoric. To study this place’s inner workings; it’s *anatomy*. That’s what we are here for. I know it. *It* knows it too. It wants us here. We haven’t explored much yet, as we are still near where the gateway was. Yet; we have learned so much. So, so much. GRAHAM: Ida! ROSS: Howard? What is it? GRAHAM: I heard something— men yelling. Screaming. ROSS: Men yelling? GRAHAM: I— I don’t know! But they are threats to us, to this place. I know it! We need to try to stop them, we need to continue. I feel this place pulling me deeper in. We can all be here together. We’re a part of this place now, Ida. ROSS: We always have been. Come, the altar is beckoning us further. \[METALLIC CLICK\] ROSS: Log #7. It’s been weeks, months— perhaps. We have walked down this corridor of tissue and muscle for ages. There have been no forks in our path. Just one bloody path forward. We feel no fatigue, or hunger. Howard and I believe the altar is sustaining us. Further proof that we are in its favor. What it wishes to show us, I do not yet know. All I know is that Howard and I are prepared to walk for all of eternity to see. \[METALLIC CLICK\] \[FAINT SOBBING\] ROSS: Log #8. It was beautiful. A gargantuan pit of blood. A sanctuary of carmine; as we felt a tremendous urge to dive into the center, to sink to the bottoms of that abyss, to become one with *Cruentum Altarae*— but that was not our purpose. Our purpose was to witness. Suddenly, we saw a woman, shrouded in darkness, afloat in the middle of a pool of crimson. She looked at peace. Then, this woman sank. Slowly. Until her entirety was obscured in red. And so, we are left to wonder. Wonder what to do next. \[METALLIC CLICK\] \[FAINT SCREECHING\] ROSS: Go, go Howard! GRAHAM: B-but, our research! ROSS: No, no! Run! We must escape with our lives! \[HEAVY BREATHING\] ROSS: I don’t know what happened since we have gotten to this place— It was like a trance. I just suddenly… snapped out of it. As soon as it was done with us. As soon as we did what we were meant to do. \[SCREECHING GROWS LOUDER\] ROSS: Keep moving Howard! Come on! GRAHAM: I’m trying! ROSS: This place has warped since; protruding arms and legs litter the walls and ceiling— shattered bone and *faces*, god, the faces. \[PANTING\] ROSS: We… are to be a part of this place now. It’s going to take us. I know it is. So we have to leave— GRAHAM: Ida! Look, there! It’s… a ladder? ROSS: A ladder? But how? \[SCREECHING\] ROSS: No time to think about it; come on! \[METAL CLANGS\] \[HATCH OPENS, SHUTS\] GRAHAM: Where are we, Ida? Are we back? ROSS: No way to be sure. It’s just an empty room. \[HANDLE TURNING\] ROSS: Locked. Is there any other way? GRAHAM: I don’t see one. Concrete on all sides, except for that door. \[LOUD SCREECHING\] \[BANGING\] ROSS: Help! Is there anyone out there? \[BANGING, SCRATCHING\] GRAHAM: Ida, it— it’s here. The hatch isn’t going to hold. Is this— are we going to die? After everything? ROSS: Howard, I— \[PAUSE\] ROSS: I’m sorry. \[METALLIC CLICK\] **\[END\]** ___ I can feel my mind in shambles. My thoughts are shrouded by red mist, conflicting memories and experiences constantly warping my reality. Could I trust myself? Could I trust these memories; these thoughts, as my own anymore? How could I know… How can I? I’ve listened to these tapes before. I’ve told you all as much. My initial transcripts were corrupted in the university’s database. The revelations of them all; I’ve known them since the start. And yet… Why is my memory so fickle? How could I have forgotten in my earlier posts? I’ve known all of the answers from the start, and I’m just now realizing it. *The Place*… could it have been manipulating me this entire time? God, my head hurts like hell… The final tape, 1C, is untitled. I swear before it had no date; but now I see that it does. Curiously, perhaps impossibly, it is dated September 29th, 2022. A few days ago. This revelation fills me with dread— perhaps someone had put a date on it behind my back? Or maybe… I did it, with no recollection of doing so? Either possibility is worrying, to say the least. I had hoped to transcribe the final tape before I met with Clara. However— the tape is, well, blank. Nothing but static. For the whole runtime. Knowing, however, how fickle these tapes can be… I’m almost positive it won’t stay that way. The further along I get into these tapes, the more I feel I’m losing myself. The more I want to journey into *The Place*. The tape would have to wait. Wait until after Clara. Though, I wasn’t even entirely sure there would *be* an after Clara. The possibility that my next post could be my last weighed on me greatly… But I needed to set aside my paranoia for now. I attempted to steel myself by taking a breather outside my motel room. I stared at a now blood red sky, shifting and toiling, like pulsing intestines. The metallic taste of blood hit my tastebuds, wafting in from a light breeze. Clouds tinted crimson were like eyes. Watching. Observing. Judging. I thought about what Ida Ross had said her employers called *The Place.* The bloody altar. If *The Place* was an altar borne of blood; then we, of this world, were the sacrifice.

Does anyone remember a dream with a red door?

xvzcv3

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xvzcv3/does_anyone_remember_a_dream_with_a_red_door/

I’ll start from the beginning. This might be a little rambly, I just need to organize my thoughts. I went on a date a few weeks back with a woman, I'll call her Anna. We were talking about conspiracies, stalkers, online groomers, famous criminals, astrology, witchcraft… typical date stuff. Then she asked me "Have you had dreams with a red door in it?" Something I should put out there, I didn’t believe in the supernatural. The world was just a boring place. we’re just meat that thinks and it’s been nothing but trouble since. That said I enjoy the paranormal, ghosts, aliens, all of that shit. Maybe it’s because I don't have a visual imagination? I've never experienced anything that couldn't be explained, outside of dreams; I don't dream every time I sleep, and it's even rarer for me to remember, but, about a year ago I started noticing randomly in my dreams… this… red door.. I stopped eating my fries and asked "A bright red wooden door? So red it almost glows?" "In mine It's metal but yeah, that color for sure" I don't remember the rest of the conversation exactly. The gist of it was she's been seeing this door in her dreams since she was a kid. And she only knows 3 other people who've had that experience. Neither of us have interacted with it. As far as we know no one has. I didn’t know if I believed her at that point, but I was definitely curious now... A couple days after that date, I had a dream. Normally, the door is just a distracting background element I don’t even notice till I wake up. But this time, my dream went from a third person fly over of a grocery store smash cut to a first person view of the door. Almost like it was a shot from a horror movie. I remember, there I was just standing in front of it. Then… I woke up. I texted Anna about my dream and she said she was jealous. She asked if I touched the door. And I said hell no. “Why not Mr. Science? Scared of a dream?” Anna teased. And at the time I agreed, it was weird for me to be scared. “It’s Dr. Science, thank you” I sent “I can see that stupid smug grin through your texts” Anna Sent “But seriously, why not?” “Look I just want my four and a half hours of sleep in peace, no adventure” So, there was a prompt on my dating profile, I mentioned something about lucid dreaming, I think. It's a thing Anna brought up when she matched with me so I was not fully surprised when she said: "Why don't I come over to your place tonight, show me how to lucid dream." So obviously I said yes. That night I explained to her how I Lucid dream. There are only 3 rules. First, you want to put something in the dream that you immediately recognize it's a dream, it can be anything. As long as it stands out enough to remind you that you're dreaming. It's not 100% necessary but it does get you in control sooner. Second, you always want to be aware of where your consciousness is. You can drift out of your body if you're not careful and it's back to normal dreaming. Finally, most importantly, you need to monitor your emotions. If you lose control of your emotions, you lose control of the dream. First thing I remember about this dream was the location. At first I thought we were at a university, some sort of college campus. But the architecture was off. Everything was both old and new, like gothic cathedrals built by Apple. Flying buttresses and steeples of glass and pearl white plastic. The first person I saw was Anna. and Since I didn’t find any copies of Petz for the Nintendo DS around, I think I made her my anchor by accident. I wondered, maybe she did the same? I’ve never dreamed with someone else before, the way she smiled, played with her hair out of boredom… it was hard to remember this was just a dream…. Right, back to the dream. We looked around for a while. No other people, no dream monsters, all doors were solidly monochromatic. I think it’s when I brought up how this is from me playing too much Bloodborne, then explaining what Bloodborne was to dream Anna in excruciating detail. But then Anna says :“but that doesn’t make sense. This is my dream” Before I could argue. There it is. In the middle of a promenade flanked by white arches in front of a white sandy beach with a blue ocean that stretched across the horizon. I remember just standing there. Those moments felt way different than the rest of the dream. I was physically present in my own body in a way I've never been while asleep. “Yeah, there it is” Anna looked at me, almost expecting me to say something. Was it actually her? I walk closer, hearing the sound of my steps as they move from pavement to the clay tile of the promenade. I reach out and touch the door… It's warm, solid. “I think this is good enough. You go ahead and touch it in your own drea-” As I look back at Anna she’s right behind me, turning the handle for the door. “Shi-” The door yields open as Anna twists the handle. I jump back on instinct. I feel my heart racing even though I'm in the dream. “Anna!” I yell out. A light engulfs her then-- I’m at the start of my dream. But now there are people walking from building to building. The only thing… Whenever I look toward a person they immediately mirror my gaze. Everyone. And with that same horrified expression. I close my eyes. I’m losing control! And then- “Wake up!” Anna’s voice brought me back. I was awake. I looked over at the clock, 5am. We compared dreams as I brewed some coffee, she occupied my cat's attention. Her dream started at a construction site near her old high school but once we reached the promenade things were weirdly similar. Anna thought otherwise “I told you, I have” she waved her arms around erratically “GIFTS!!” “Yeah, doubt it” I remember thinking If Anna dreamt that Bloodborne conversation or something similarly nerdy then I would be more willing to coincide, but honestly it wasn’t worth bringing up. Besides, in her dream I was weirdly more serious and stoic. “What about this?” Anna turned around and grabbed something from my shelf. “You wouldn’t shut up about this videogame…” She turned around with a ps4 game in hand. A man with a hacksaw in a gothic city that reached up to the sky. shit… I don’t have a funny quip, and the moment she saw it on my face, she had the widest smile, she got me. “Whatever, did you open the door though?” I asked before taking a sip of coffee. Anna looked away from me before speaking “...Yeah, I think i woke up as soon as i opened it” I noticed something was on her mind, something she didn’t want to say “Did you see what was inside?” I asked. “I think… I think I should go home. I’ll text you later?” We didn’t talk about dreams for the next week or so. I hadn't had any I remembered since then. It wasn’t until our next date that Anna brought it up. “Do you… ever see things?” Anna asked in a hushed tone. We were at a boba shop in the arts district downtown. Strange conversations happen here all the time so I knew something was up. “Not really” I said, I told her I have aphantasia, zero visual imagination. The only time I see things that aren't real is in my dreams. “Why do you ask?” “I see it when I'm awake.” “...See what?” “The door” So I don't know if I made the right call. But I invited her to stay at my place for a while. I knew Anna had been through some shit, and she’s had her own mental issues with not that great a support system in the city, not that it mattered. This woman was basically the complete package, weird, smart, hot, everything you could ask for. But also, I felt responsible for this mess in the first place. I realized immediately Anna wasn’t sleeping, at least not deeply. She’d get up all through the night. The third night we had a conversation and finally. She told me what she saw in that dream 3 weeks ago. “I was in your room. It’s not that I woke up. I opened the door and I was in your room.” I took a pause to search how I should react ”well I guess, on a technical level, that’s pretty unnerving but--” “I wasn’t alone. I felt-- I feel, something watching me.” It was then we made a plan. We were going to go in again. This time we’d enter the door together. As we were getting ready to sleep. I held her hand and looked her in the eyes “Best case scenario, a night of real sleep might help. Worst case scenario… well whatever happens we’ll handle it together. Promise.” This dream was a little different. It took a while to become aware. I made Anna my anchor this time intentionally, but the first part of my dream I don't remember. But when I saw Anna sitting at a bus stop, tapping her feet, twirling her hair. I knew I was in the right place. “Did I keep you waiting long” I asked “Oh, so you believe that I'm real now?” Anna asked. I looked around, there was a great ocean view, white buildings, blue roofs, we were in Santorini Greece. “I don’t know. Maybe? This is definitely too normal for one of my dreams.” We started off looking for the door, but as time passed, we just decided to go sightseeing. The weather was nice, there was a festival going on but it wasn’t too crowded. We spent all day talking and walking around the city. I almost forgot this was a dream. “There it is!” Anna squeezed my arm like a vice, and suddenly. That feeling again. Hyper presence. I wondered if our dreams were in sync again. Part of me hoped we did share the whole experience somehow-- right I can’t be getting distracted in my own dream. We make our way to the door. Together reaching for the handle when a familiar voice calls my name. “Wouldn’t do that kid, you don’t know how deep this thing goes” I Freeze. Was that… My dad? Anna looks at me unsure. I turn to look, standing about 9 or 12 feet away, I 100% recognize that man as my father, from the bald head to the leather sandals. But it’s too correct. His smile is a little too wide. “Who are you?” I grabbed Anna a little tighter. “A friend.” the man says. “We need to talk… just us.” I take a second. Looking at the man in the shape of my father, the ominous red door, and Anna. “...go. GO!” I twist the knob and we both fall forward into a bright waking light and… Just like Anna said… I stumbled into the room I fell asleep in… alone. The next 24 hours I spent all day calling, texting, trying to figure out… look trust me I'm not crazy, I didn’t just make up a girlfriend for a story. But… I checked her belongings, no ID, her car, no registration. But her things are HERE. They’re still here! It’s been 2 months. I’ve exhausted all my other leads. No social media, no missing persons. I haven’t told anyone until now, I don’t know what to believe. But everything that happened, happened. The only thing left is that door. The red door. I Haven't been able to dream at all since then, but there's at least three other people out there who can. Do any of you remember a dream with a red door? [Imgur](https://imgur.com/Jqh2IMT)

Watch Out For Customized Nails

xvfpyb

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xvfpyb/watch_out_for_customized_nails/

“Check these out!” Cassidy waved a set of pink paper fingernails under my nose. “Betcha can’t catch me with these *customized nails!*” I picked my eleven-year-old niece Cassidy up from track practice after my warehouse shift on weekdays. At first I’d only agreed to it to help my brother, who was barely keeping his head above water between his family and work, but I’d come to appreciate the daily car ride with my niece. She took care of all the conversation herself, and something about listening to her helped me decompress– Even if I didn’t understand half of what she talked about. Cassidy’s latest obsession was making fake fingernails out of literally anything–from tape and post-it notes to screws or snack chips. I figured it was some dumb trend from TikTok– But still, it creeped me the hell out, pulling up to Cassidy’s middle school and seeing all those packs of kids walking around with what looked like homemade claws. After a few days, though, I got used to Cassidy’s fake paper fingernails– And when she showed up without them, I noticed. For once, Cassidy didn’t start talking right away. She slammed the car door and stared at her pinched-tight knees. “What’s wrong?” I asked. “Where are your uh, fingernails?” “Lost’em.” Cassidy shrugged. It was the only thing said during the whole ride home. The knees of Cassidy’s jeans were dirty, and there was a scrape on her palm. The next day, Cassidy wasn’t standing where I usually picked her up by the corner of the Middle School. I rolled down the window to call for her, but as I did. I heard a young girl’s cackling laughter. Three girls I thought I recognized from Cassidy’s class came striding around the corner, giving me the stink-eye as they crossed to the park. A few minutes later, Cassidy came storming around the corner and got into my car. This time, she didn’t say *anything.* “Cas…what’s going on?” I tried again. My niece shook her head. “I *know* something’s wrong. Cas–you gotta talk to me!” When I grabbed her chin and made her look up, I saw tears streaming down her cheeks. “Those girls…” Cassidy sniffed. By the fence at the entrance to the park, one of the girls waved to us with Cassidy’s hot-pink paper nails. “Hey!” I got out of the car, hands on my hips, too angry to think straight. The three girls scattered, giggling, and I realized the position I was in. I’m a 6’3, heavyset guy with a beard–what was I gonna do, chase some twelve-year-girls through a park? I clenched my fists and got back into the car. When I dropped Cassidy off at home, I talked to my brother Sam about what I’d seen–but he was so tired I don’t think he even heard me. No matter how much I pleaded, Cassidy *refused* to name the girls…but I could see the light and joy going out of her day by day. It had been a long time since I’d felt so powerless. Until today. This afternoon, Cassidy practically skipped to the car and started telling me about her day as soon as she hopped inside. The change was…*almost frightening.* Then again, I had seen any of those girls around either. I figured that might be the cause of my niece’s sudden cheerfulness. “–but Alexis won’t be bothering any of *us* anymore now that she’s suspended–” Cassidy was rambling. I realized that she’d just accidentally dropped the name of one of her bullies. “Oh?” I tried to sound uninterested. “How’d that happen?” “I gave her some new nails and she got in trouble.” Cassidy shrugged. If she was trying to look innocent, I wasn’t fooled. There was more to the story than that, but I didn’t get anything else out of her until we pulled into my brother’s driveway. Both of her parents met us at the door for a chance. “My God, honey–are you alright?!” my sister-in-law grabbed Cas’ face, caressed her hair… “Did you see it?” my brother asked. “See what?” I was completely confused. “Some kid scratched the hell out of one of Cas’ teachers. She’s in the hospital with these gouge-marks all over her, like she was attacked by a damn mountain lion…it was all over the news…” I shot Cassiday a dark glance. “Do you know which teacher got hurt?” My sister-in-law wondered. “Ms. Kurtz.” Cassidy responded. I remembered that name. The math teacher, the one who Cassidy said was always picking on her… “Was it Alexis who hurt Ms. Kurtz?” I demanded. Cas went pale. “Yeah.” Now *she* was trying to sound casual. “Yeah. That’s right.” *I gave her some new nails and she got in trouble…* “Cassidy…” I began. “Can you show me those new nails you gave Alexis?” “Well I mean I could, but like, why? You don’t care about stuff like that…” Cassidy clenched her backpack and tried to go inside the house, but my brother blocked her. “Let’s see’em, Cas.” Reluctantly, Cas took out a small oval box from her bag. It was peach, the color of bright light shining through skin, and uncomfortably warm to the touch. I wondered where on earth Cassidy had found such a thing. The ivory-colored clasp gave way beneath my thumb. Inside was a multicolored variety of high-end fake nails. I was fascinated by them. The blue nails were the color of the sky on the last day of summer. The red ones had a golden pattern I’d seen before, on the dress of a woman in a dream. The green ones– “Who gave you these?” My sister-in-law continued her interrogation. “The woman…” Cassidy whispered. Something in her voice snapped me out of my reverie. “What woman?!” “The woman in the woods, behind the school. She said if I gave them to Alexis and those girls, they’d never bother me again…” I felt the blood rush out of my face. Behind Cassidy’s middle school was nothing but forest. There was no reason for *any* adult to be back there. Not unless– “I don’t have time for this…” My brother rubbed his forehead in irritation. “Give’em to me.” I sighed. “I’ll look into it.” Driving home, my eyes kept drifting to the weird oval box in my passenger’s seat. The whole situation was just too strange. Cassidy hadn’t been able to tell us anything more about *‘the woman behind the school–’* In fact, she said she couldn’t even remember when she’d met her or what she looked like, and I knew my Cas–there was no lie in her wide, haunted blue eyes. When I got home, I left the box of fingernails in the bathroom and did some more digging. Apparently, Alexis’s mother Sarah Holmstead was active in the Parent-Teacher Association– And her phone number was listed on Facebook. *“What do you want?!”* a hoarse voice picked up the phone on the second ring. “My daughter and I aren’t giving any interviews, and I don’t give a damn about your goddamn opinion about this family!” Alexis’ mother sobbed. “Mrs. Holmstead…” I ventured. “I don’t think what happened was Alexis’ fault.” *That* got me a long silence. “I’m Cassidy Laing’s uncle.” “Oh, *Cassidy.*” There was another long pause. “Look, Mr. Laing, I’m aware that our girls aren’t exactly *friends.* Alexis is a firecracker, I’ve told her time and again to be more thoughtful about how she treats people, but *this…*” Sarah Holmstead burst into tears again “...the police say that poor woman will be permanently disfigured! They want to press criminal charges!” “What did Alexis have to say about what happened?” “She was horrified! She says it wasn’t her. That she put on these fake nails and they just…*acted on their own*…” “Honey?” my girlfriend Kate called from the bathroom, “where did you get these? They’re really cute!” She walked into the living room with a shining set of lilac clip-on nails on her fingers. “I’ll call you back.” I whispered into the phone, then turned on my girlfriend. *“Where did you get those?!”* “The box in the bathroom…” Kate sat at the kitchen table, blowing on her tea. “What’s the big deal?” she drummed her new nails irritably on the formica. *Or did she?* Kate was staring at her hand. Her fingernails tapped against the table again. Something about the way they moved reminded me of a rabid dog straining against its chain. “I…I’m not…” Kate stammered, suddenly tugging on her new nails, “...they won’t come off!” Kate’s fingers writhed like the tentacles of some deep-sea creature as they tried to evade her other hand. Just watching it made me feel sick. I pressed her hand into the table and tried to keep her squirming fingers still. I finally caught a nail, and as the others dug into my hand, I pulled. “No!” Kate screamed. “They’re connected!” Looking closer, I saw that she was right: the lilac clip-ons had tunneled through her cuticle somehow, and even her veins had turned a faint shade of purple. But I was more concerned with freeing my hand from the razor-sharp fingertips that had disappeared inside the flesh of my palm. It was only with a scream and a sickening splatter that I was able to pull away. I put all my weight onto Kate’s hand, but I couldn’t hold her down. Once free, Kate’s lilac nails slashed and stabbed at me like five tiny knives. They dragged Kate around the kitchen after me while she tried to hold back her own hand. The situation would have been funny if it wasn’t so terrifying. I blocked those glistening, blood-spattered purple claws with a bamboo cutting board, but another swipe flung it away. I shoved Kate away with a stool and dived into the laundry room, putting a solid wooden door between my girlfriend’s insane new fingers and I. No sooner had I shoved my against it than raking blows began to hammer it from the other side. With each strike, the hinges splintered a little more–and Kate screamed. The nails didn’t care how much pain they put her through in their attempt to get to me. On the other side of the door, the pounding finally stopped– And was followed by a low, sick gurgle. I’d never heard anything like it before. I knew I’d be a fool to open the door, but the silence from Kate was more frightening than her screaming had been. *What the hell could be making that noise?!* “...Kate?” I ventured. But that sick burbling noise only intensified. I couldn’t take it anymore. With only a mop handle to protect myself with, I burst back into the kitchen. I found Kate slumped against the wall with her own fingers buried in her throat– Up to the knuckle. With an awful squelching sound, Kate’s hand pulled itself away from her throat and began dragging her limp body toward me. This wasn’t happening, this couldn’t *be* happening. I backed out through the laundry room toward the garage, stumbling over my unwashed work clothes and the fallen mop bucket, barely seeing where I was going as I fled to my car. “Were there any more?!” I screamed into the speakerphone at my brother, as I sped toward his home on the other side of town. “Did Cassidy give out any other fake nails?!” “I’ll ask.” My brother groaned. I’d clearly woken him. “She’s been in her room all night. Says she’s felt sick ever since she met that woman behind the school…you sound bad, man. You alright?” “Just ask her.” I hissed, and counted the heartbeats until my brother came back to the phone. “Cas says she gave’em to two other girls. Alexis’ friends…why? what’s going on?” “Get their addresses and call the police. I’ll be there in ten minutes.” When I arrived, Cassidy was groggy. She said she’d never heard about any *“woman in the woods”* or given out any strange clip-on nails. It was just a thing on TikTok, she mumbled–then rolled over and went back to sleep. By morning, even the nails themselves were gone. Gone from the bloody, mutilated fingers of Alexis and her friends. Gone from Kate’s corpse. Even the weird, peach-colored box had disappeared from my bathroom. After a syrupy pancake breakfast, Cassidy was humming cheerfully. *She didn’t remember a thing.* Sleepless and numb, I looked up from my cup of black coffee and shared a silent nod with my brother. *And we’d make sure that no one found out. Not ever.* That’s why I’ve changed the names, ages, and occupations of the people involved, but I still feel I have to share the warning while I still can: If you find a pair of fake nails that aren’t yours… *Leave them where they lie.* ​ [X](https://www.reddit.com/r/beardify)

All My Exes Die After We Break Up - The Curse of Hollyeve: Colin - Part 1

xvwn3d

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xvwn3d/all_my_exes_die_after_we_break_up_the_curse_of/

[The Curse of Hollyeve: Eric - Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xxidln/all_my_exes_die_after_we_break_up_the_curse_of/) [Part 3](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xzx4ni/all_my_exes_die_after_we_break_up_the_curse_of/) [Part 4](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y1c12x/all_my_exes_die_after_we_break_up_the_curse_of/) A while back I shared my story of how [all my exes die after we break up](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/vv7bu5/all_my_exes_die_after_we_break_up/). At the time I published it. I thought that was the end of the story. *It wasn’t.*  Katy and I went through the motions of our loveless marriage, knowing the alternative was death for her, though sometimes I could tell she was wondering if that might be better. *What was the point of living a life where you could never experience love?*  I could handle it, but I couldn’t handle watching Katy struggle to handle it. I would wake up in the middle of the night to her crying to herself. I had to see if there was some way to solve the curse Hollyeve had over me.  I turned to the internet. I was shocked to quickly find a subreddit dedicated to Hollyeve and people who had fallen victim to her curse just like me. I put out a signal to get people on the sub to reach out to me, explaining what I explained in my previous story.  Colin wasn’t the first to reach out to me about Hollyeve, but he’s where the rest of this story has to all start.   We met at a dive bar in San Francisco. He kept looking around like he was scared someone was going to find him in there. *He had the most broken energy of anyone I had ever met.*  Colin was haunted by the apparition of a young woman - scorched and melting the smell of burning human flesh appeared before he would see her. Then she would appear where he was, frequently lighting up the night as a sooty human flame which shrieked with the force of a dying child - staring at him with unforgiving eyes.  This vision would have been bad enough just for Colin. The problem was the apparition always appeared the first night Colin was alone with a girl. It started in high school and was still going on, now into his 30s.  It always followed the same script. Colin found new love, even if just for a night sometimes. He and the girl eventually got alone. Shortly after, the apparition appeared, horrified the girl, and she ran away. If the rare girl came back for a second try, the same thing would happen - the apparition would appear in some new shocking way - pop up in a mirror, hang upside from the ceiling, slip into the covers once he and the girl did. No one ever lasted longer than a second try.  He gave up on trying to experience any kind of love or intimacy in his 20s. He withdrew and became celibate. To him, his life was essentially over. There was almost no joy. Just fear and pain.  Then he tried to give it one last try, thinking he may have found a loophole.  He went to a friend’s bachelor party and ended up in a hotel room alone, getting a lap dance from a stripper, for longer than he would like to admit. The apparition never came and he wondered: *What if it won’t come if there’s not even a hint of love in the transgression - purely just a business transaction?* He hired a sex worker and went to her hotel room. He wanted to see if he could experience some kind of physical fulfillment and not be haunted.  It started out well. He got the deed done for the first time in his life. It was relieving. Shockingly professional, but enjoyable, and he thought he found a new way to to get some kind of release in his life in the arena of what you could call the closest he could get to love without terror.  The sex worker went to the bathroom after things were over. Colin grew alarmed when 10 minutes went by and she didn’t come out. He knocked on the door. All he heard was crying. “What is this!?!?!” He heard her voice ring out at him through the door.  Colin tried to get her to explain what was going on in the bathroom. She just screamed back: “You better be out of here when he gets here!” Colin didn’t know who “he” was but he didn’t want to stick around to find out. He quickly found out he wasn’t going to have a choice. He heard the door to the room unlock and quickly Colin was looking at one of the largest men he had ever seen in his life.  The intimidating man he described as the woman’s “manager” grabbed him by the back of the neck and drug him over to the bathroom door.  The woman in the bathroom eventually was okay with opening the door, slowly. Colin said he could smell that burning smell before he even saw what was going on in the bathroom. Still, he was not prepared for what he was going to see.  The sex worker was in the middle of the room, wrapped around her from behind was the apparition of Hollyeve, charred and burning, a haze of smoke billowing around them.  Colin could see Hollyeve’s arms held tight on the sex worker’s body and she watched it burn into her. She screamed in pain as Hollyeve held her tighter as Colin and her manager approached the bathroom doorway.  Colin could also see Hollyeve’s eyes burning into him, torturing him. The apparition knew what it was doing. He could feel it.  Colin felt the hard metal of the manager’s gun hit him up against the head before he could try and move, then he fell hard to the ground.  With his final couple of blinks Colin saw the manager carrying the sex worker out of the bathroom, still smoldering, and he saw Hollyeve standing there in the bathroom.  Colin then spent most of his time sitting on Reddit, looking for people like me out there who had similar experiences, so he could try and find some solution to the curse he was living.  Well I was the same as him more or less - so what could I do? It seemed to me that he might be able to help me more than I could help him.  I wanted to know how this all started for him, but he had conveniently avoided that part. At this point he started to get sheepish - blushing and breaking eye contact - staring down into the fourth drink he had almost finished in an hour. He clearly didn’t want to talk about how this curse all started, but he started in ominously… “I brought this on all of us myself.” Colin was born and raised in a small town on the California coast just a few towns over from where I grew up. A rich kid. He explained he was much better looking when he was younger. He said it so many times it started to really weird me out. He was a decent looking guy with some extra pounds. Who really cares? He also kept insisting that I don’t judge him until I hear his full story.  He knew the girl who was his apparition. *Hollyeve*. She showed up on the first day of seventh grade. No one ever asked where she came from and she never volunteered the information. She just kind of appeared one day.  She stood out. She wasn’t the typical small town girl most of the boys flocked to. She was edgy, odd, and haunting, yet beautiful. He said now she would be the kind of girl who’d become a fashion model because she had a look, but would swear she was never popular growing up because she was always just tall and awkward.  All of this drew Colin in. Only problem was there was no way he could be with her.  As he mentioned, repeatedly, he was very good looking. He was rich. He was the coolest kid in school. He could never date the weird girl who showed up with holes in her shoes and a thousand-foot stare.  Colin got overconfident though. He thought - *if Hollyeve became his girlfriend, then he could make her cool. Make her attractive.*  He asked her out. She was shocked, and then said yes.  Colin loved spending time with her. She was easy going, cute, and sweet when no one was around. She was different from the other girls he had dated, in the best way.  She did not become the most-popular girl in school. Things actually got worse. She used to kind of just be an afterthought at school, but now everyone in his class was making fun of her and the other girls were singling her out.  Colin tried to press through it. He tried to sell his friends on how she was actually really cute. She was actually really cool. She was funny.  It didn’t work. No one else saw it. Everyone also kept asking Colin the same damn question.  *Was it a joke?*  He eventually relented. *Yes, he lied, the whole thing was just a big joke.*  Then he had to break Hollyeve’s heart.  Hollyeve had fallen in love with Colin and he knew it. It was not going to be easy to go through with all of it, but dumping her would allow him to go back to his normal schoolyard life of not getting made fun of and questioned constantly. He had felt his popularity slipping. He had to do it.  She took it even worse than he thought. She sobbed uncontrollably. Hyperventilated. She kept asking him why? *Why?* Colin had to stop himself while telling me this part. I could feel the pain channeling through her and then him and then hitting me. *No wonder this poor girl was haunting the world.*  He started to act strangely. He didn’t want to tell the story anymore.  He said he had to go to the bathroom and then never came back.  I only got him on the phone eventually when I called from a different phone number. He talked to me long enough to tell me that Hollyeve did die. Not at his hand though. That was all he would say.  Well he did say that she burned to death just before he hung up.  I went home that night and didn’t think too much of it. There were plenty of other Hollyeve victims I was in contact with. Colin may have been just another link in the chain, though I couldn’t deny it seemed like this was the origin story for Hollyeve and that made this thread possibly stronger than the other ones I was pursuing.  I got some confirmation on that one after I ate dinner at home that night. My nose began to tickle as soon as I sat down after eating and the smells of the meal went away.  Something began to sting my nose and eyes. It felt and smelled like when the plume of a campfire gets thrown in your direction.  I didn’t think anything of it until I started to feel like I was no longer alone and the smell kept getting more and more intense.  I walked into the kitchen, wondering if I had left something burning on the stove or something.I was greeted by a blinding plume of smoke as soon as I opened the door and stepped in. I couldn’t see anything. I could only feel and hear.  I felt a cold hand strong on my neck and I heard someone crying uncontrollably and hyperventilating. Then I heard them asking over and over and over again - *why?* I was able to get out of the room and come back later. The smoke was gone. The crying was gone.  Hollyeve was gone. I knew it was her. Yet, it was troubling she simply presented herself that way to me, and aggressively. This was much more than simply destroying my love life.  I contacted Colin every way that I could - Reddit messages, texts, voicemails. It was a day before he responded on Reddit.  *I’m sorry. She just won’t stop.*  *Best of luck,* *Colin* Then his account was deleted.

I was kidnapped by Mexican cartels.

xw21kz

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xw21kz/i_was_kidnapped_by_mexican_cartels/

I am not the best story teller or public speaker. But I will do my best to tell you my story. I was born in the US. When I was 2, my mom sent me to live with her parents. She was still too young to raise a kid on her own and needed to save money for a better future. My grand parents lived in a desert region north of central Mexico in a small village 2 hours away from a very large city called San Luis Potosi. I was 4 years old back in 1987. by this time I thought my grand parents were my actual parents. By then I didn't remember my actual mom since I had not seen her since I was two. One day in 1987, my grand parents decided to go to the city of San Luis to run some errands and do shopping. This is something they would do frequently and they would always take me with them. San Luis Potosi is a typical large city in Mexico with subtle crime rate, especially back in the 1980s. We would go to a location called El Centro: a very large historic paved plaza with shops, cafes, basilicas and conquistador buildings older than 300 years. This was a very busy area and rumored to be dangerous for the naïve tourist. This is what I remember. We were walking to a shoe shop where shoes are hand made. As we were in the store I was eying a Candy store just across from this shoe shop. My grand parents were distracted. I decided to run to the enticing candy store to look at a colorful arraignment of chocolates and gummies. My grandparents did not notice me walking out of the store to the candy shop across the shoe shop. As I walked to the candy store, I was in there for a minute & quickly lost my enthusiasm.. I started feeling lost so I started making my way back to the shoe shop to meet my grand parents. As I exited the store, I felt someone grab me very fast. It was an aggressive snatch. My mouth was being covered by a dirty hand that felt like some construction worker. I couldn't yell. I started crying but this person was strong - too strong. They forced my mouth shut. When I looked behind me immediately, I was being grabbed by two large men. It all happened so fast. I was too small to fight them. They carried me to a van parked close by and tossed me in the back while one drove and one sat with me in the back to restrain me. They told me to shut the F up or they would kill me. One pulled a knife and showed it to me. I was too scared to scream. I don't remember too much on this ride where ever they were taking me, other than it was a quiet ride. They didn't speak to me unless it was to give me orders or tell me to shut up. I didn't hear them speak to each other. The thing I mostly remember is how terrified I was because I have seen this in movies. I was driven to a house which appeared to have two bedrooms. When I arrived to the destination, there was a women there who appeared to be their accomplice. I was kept in a room with a bed and drawer. During this time, I was told by the woman and two men that the reason why they brought me here is because they are going to sell me to some people who are willing to pay lots of money for me to kill me, then dissect me to sell my organs to a black market. Apparently they were a part of a large underground network. The woman & kidnappers were very mean and short tempered. Sometimes they went as far as beating me. That happened two times when I couldn't stop crying. They were overly paranoid about the neighbors hearing or seeing anything suspicious. Out of the three of them, the woman was the most disturbed. She did most of the talking. They told me horrific crimes they've committed before to keep me in compliance. I won't disclose most of them because it makes me uncomfortable, plus I want to keep this brief and clear. One thing I remember the woman told me is that she hated all children in general, every last one of them. She thought they were pests. Being a part of this gave her pleasure. This was the most traumatic time in my life. I am still discovering today how this incident fractured my four-year-old mind. I was kept in this room for what felt like two days with no food. I was only given water. I am lucky to say that on the second day, these three people were raided by the local police and were all arrested. I was safely returned to my grand parents. However, after this happened, my grand parents and I never spoke of the event again. A week before I turned 7 years old my grand dad died of natural causes. After my grandpa's death, My biological mother showed up in my life for the first time at my grandmother's house to attend my grandfather's funeral. It was at this time that she decided it was time to take me with her and introduce me to the country I was born in: the United States. I don't believe my grandparents ever told my mom of my kidnapping. Today I am an adult man in my 30s. I have never talked to my mom about this, let alone she has never asked me. We have a very distant mother - son relationship. I have every reason to believe she has no clue at all that this happened. Maybe my grandparents deliberately kept this from her to avoid causing her stress. My grandmother passed away in 2013, taking this unspoken memory with her. This is something traumatic that I only think about and never talk about with anyone because the event is so far back. It still seems unreal. And the more time that goes by, the more distant and unreal this memory becomes. I haven't talked about this with anyone, not even my most closest romantic partners who I shared everything with, except this. If I wanted to tell my current partner, I don't know how I would talk about it. I am just afraid he won't believe me.

Seasonal Halloween Store 2002

xvvdlo

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xvvdlo/seasonal_halloween_store_2002/

I remember the doors opening, jack-o-lanterns and animatronics waving me into a world of spooky wonder. It was only October 4th, and I was already so excited for trick-or-treating I could barely breathe. I looked at the sign above, the generic “Halloween Store” logo half-hazardly plastered over the once bright and wonderful sign to *Hidey’s Palace,* a back-in-the-day hybrid clone of both *Chucky-Cheese’s* and *Toys-R-Us*, one that apparently didn’t exist anymore. I could recall the commercial for the grand opening, a comically tall mascot in a suit with an eyeball for a head cutting a big ribbon with a large set of golden scissors. I remembered the cartoons airing on TV, but was too young to know it had gone bankrupt and closed, leaving a shell in a corner of the otherwise busy mall. The thought of it being painted so easily made me feel strange, but the dancing ghosts and zombies inside were quickly changing my tune. “Come on buddy, let’s go see some scary stuff!” My dad patted me on the back, and together we went in. As soon as I was through the doors, a blur of movement flashed before me, and a clown screamed with outstretched arms. I nearly jumped out of my skin, and my dad laughed. I recoiled at his menacing face, one that quickly melted away, and said “If you need help finding anything, let me know!” before chuckling and dancing away. I felt tears welling, but my dad said it was just a joke and assured me he was just trying to spread some Halloween spirit. In seconds I had forgotten about the old Hidey cartoon, my world consumed by bags of candy corn and hanging costumes. The Halloween store was a magical place, with loads of decorations and disgusting props, even a lady dressed as a witch behind the counter. My dad corralled me around the skeletons and prop heads, letting me get close but not letting me touch anything. “These things are expensive. If we break it, we have to buy it.” It was something he always said, a voice that echoed in my head every time I reached for the light-up pumpkins or giant spiders. It didn’t matter if I couldn’t touch them, just being in the big spooky world made my heart race so fast I thought I would pee myself. Hundreds of costume choices, anywhere from a zombie pirate to a giant hot-dog. The bigger kids were crowded around the wall of masks, so my dad decided to avoid it, and distracted me with costumes from popular scary movies. I kept expecting the clown to pop out again, but I never saw him. We made several laps around the store, and each time I saw something I had missed previously. With each round my dad got more and more tired, and I could hear the patience thinning in his voice. I still hadn’t found a costume. I could tell we were about to go, and I was doing everything I could to keep us in the scary wonderland. Just as he was steering me towards the register, I thought of something that made my world crashing down. We had never looked at the masks. I looked back at the wall of faces, and saw the bigger kids had cleared out. I thought of the clown lingering, and decided to chance it for an opportunity to see them. My dad was talking sweetly to the witch cashier, and she was leaning towards him, twirling a long lock on her finger. I tugged on his hand to get his attention, one he pacified by squeezing my hand in warning. “Well, I never thought I could *really* pull off a lumberjack, but—” “Dad, can I *please* go look at the masks? Please?” I blurted, making both of them look at me. I could see my dad’s flash of anger, one that seemed to fizzle away when the witch put her hand on his. He sighed, and reluctantly agreed. “Only for a minute, and don’t touch anything—” But I was already gone, ready to have the whole wall of masks to myself. I dashed through rows of costumes, blinking lights, and weaved through other customers as I made my way to the wall. I could see them clearer now, all of my Halloween spirit writhing in a torrent of anxious excitement. I burst out of an aisle and into the open wall, feeling dwarfed under the size of the collection. I looked for the clown, and saw no sight of him. Without my dad trailing behind me, I suddenly felt very alone, the wall of masks staring down at me. I looked over each face, some I recognized, others I didn’t. A man with nails protruding from his face. The wild-eyed face of a man wearing someone else’s face. A black unicorn, with burning stars for eyes. I looked at each one, marveling at both the detail in the masks, and the feeling of dread it inspired in me. Despite my growing fear I kept looking, each one more unsettling than the last. An unsettling white face with brown hair, a man with horribly burned skin— Something between the hangers caught my eye, and I found myself stopping. There was something hiding in the shadow, the faintest glint catching the lights from overhead. Like a mask had fallen down behind the others. It was roundish, and looked like it had a dot in the middle. I tried to see it better, but it was just too dark. I had to get closer. I looked for my dad, and realized I was too far away from the register to see him. The store suddenly felt very empty, and I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I decided I would just take a peek and run back to him. I turned around and parted the other masks with my hands, trying to get a better look. It was round like a beach ball, a singular dot right in the center. I moved my face closer, the familiar shape slowly making sense in my head. After a moment I realized it wasn’t a dot, but a pupil. It reminded me of Hidey’s Playhouse, but the realistic features made it look more unsettling than friendly. And there wasn’t another like it in the whole store. It was perfect, and I wanted it to be my costume. I reached for the mask, but it was too far away. I tried to worm my way between the hangers, keeping the mask in my view as I inched between them. When I reached again, one of the hangers caught my shirt, preventing me from going further. When I tried to shake it off, I felt something grab my hand. I looked to see long black fingers wrapped around my hand, an icy grip that came from the shadows of the rack. I felt a sickening pit in my stomach and tried to pull away, but it wouldn’t let go. The pupil on the Hidey mask dilated, and blinked. Before I could scream, the hand yanked me into the wall, and I blacked out. When I awoke, I felt the cold press of the floor on my face. I jumped to my feet and looked around, feeling a kindling panic when I didn’t recognize where I was. I was in an aisle, black and white checkered tile reaching for as long as I could see. There were shelves on either side of me, neatly organized toys stacked high until they almost touched the fluorescents above. “Dad?” I called out, my voice meeting nothing but dead silence. The aisle seemed to stretch forever, hundreds of toys lining the path both ways. I found myself shivering, wanting desperately to go home. Next to me was a cardboard cutout, bold letters announcing the grand opening: *Hidey’s Palace! Join Hidey and his side-kick Shep the Sheepdog on the greatest game of hide-and-go-seek, everrrrrrrr!* The cutout depicted an unusually tall and lanky man dressed in a suit, with a large eyeball serving as his head. Beside him was an adorable looking Sheepdog with sparkling eyes, that stood on its hind legs like a person. It looked just like the cartoon I had seen on TV. At the bottom of the sign read it’s catchy slogan: *NO ONE CAN HIDE FROM HIDEY* A scream echoed down the aisle, and I looked to see the clown from the store. He was running towards me, flailing his hands. I’m not sure what frightened me more; the sight of him, or the fact that he looked *terrified.* “Kid! Oh my god, kid! We gotta’ get out of here!” He shouted, grabbing me by the shoulders. He was breathing hard, tears streaking through his clown makeup. I started to cry. “Kid! Tell me— how did you get here? We need to find a way out! *He’s coming!*” He shouted, frantically looking back down the direction he came. There was nothing but darkness, a billowing, shifting void that seemed to churn at the end of the aisle. “Who’s coming?” I blubbered, lips trembling. “I-I-I don’t know who he is, he’s just not fuckin’ right. We gotta go, kid. We gotta—” Suddenly a large hand gripped the clown’s shoulder and yanked him away, pulling so hard his oversized shoes kicked off his feet. The arm that grabbed him stretched from the darkness and held him up in the air, wrapping around his throat until he choked for breath. “No-please-” I watched in horror as the arm slammed him down, an impact so hard it rattled the boxes on the shelves. The clown coughed and clutched at his stomach, and the long arm slithered away and into the darkness. “Run kid! Run!” He coughed, but he wasn’t looking at me. From the darkness poked a large pair of golden shears, reflecting in the fluorescent light. The blades opened like a guillotine, worked by two long hands that gripped the loop fiercely. Out stepped an incredibly thin body, standing tall with a massive bloodshot spherical eyeball. I froze with fear as the scarily shaped Hidey crouched to keep his head from hitting the ceiling. He cast a shadow over the clown as he approached, who was holding his hand out in surrender. “*YOU THOUGHT YOU COULD HIDE FROM MEEEEEE?*” It spoke with no mouth, the massive eye narrowing in front of him. “No—” The blades closed, shearing the clown’s arm and head from his body. The separated pieces flailed and sprayed but Hidey was already opening the shears again to give it another go. He closed them again, and then again, flinging a spatter of minced guts and bloody spray as he kept snapping the giant scissors. As red speckles peppered his giant eye, Hidey looked at me, and stopped, snapping the shears at the air. I turned and ran, heading into the opposite direction as a piercing shriek emitted from the eyeball. The limbs skittered like a spider, closing the distance in seconds as I screamed. I woke in my father’s arms, crying hysterically. We were sitting on the floor, and he was rocking me back and forth as a crowd gathered around us. I was back in the Halloween store. The checkered tile beneath me was once again old, scuffed carpet. Hidey was nowhere to be found. My dad asked me what happened, saying he found me on the floor crying by the masks. I told him everything, Hidey with his scissors and the clown in the long store-like hallway. The girl witch cashier suggested maybe I had gotten lost in the back, and found some of the old store cutouts. She said “Harv” the clown was supposed to be grabbing more items to restock, and she would go get him to apologize. She returned moments later confused, saying he was nowhere to be found. Underneath the wall of masks, a red stain was growing in the carpet. ​ [—AHS](https://www.reddit.com/r/HawaiianShirtFiction/)

There is someone in my apartment who doesn't want me to sleep.

xw555l

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xw555l/there_is_someone_in_my_apartment_who_doesnt_want/

The other night I was helping out a friend with cleansing her apartment, we are what Ya'll call witches you see. While cleansing the apartment I felt myself sucking out all the negativity from the apartment and suddenly everyone except for me relaxed. I was still tense. But I didn't think much of it since everyone else had relaxed. Later that night I went home to go to sleep and had this sudden feeling that someone was watching my every step. *Probably just a dumb feeling*, I thought to myself as I closed the blinds, turned off the lights and went to bed. Weird thing though. There was already someone, or something, in my bed. I closed my eyes, thinking the feeling would just go away, but it didn't. Instead, I felt a cool breath hit my face, as if someone was hovering right over me, breathing in my face almost an inch away. I tried turning away, but I couldn't move. I was stuck, almost frozen still. *Counting!!* I thought to myself. *Counting always works to get rid of an awkward feeling.* So, I began counting. *One... Two... three...* Deep breaths. *Twelve... thirteen...* The bed dipped and I heard footsteps move from my bed to the window. The window slammed open, and suddenly it was quiet. I knew that I was alone again. My eyes cracked open, and I turned my head towards the window. They were closed. Not even disturbed or cracked. They were just how I left them. After a lot of tossing and turning, I finally met sleep, with an uneasy feeling in my chest. The morning after that, all was forgotten, until it was night again and I got ready for bed. *I wonder if it will happen again...* I kept thinking to myself. Shaking it off as a weird dream, I got to bed and looked at the clock. *00:00 am, nice, I can get a lot of sleep before work in the morning.* All too soon, sleep fell over me. No worries in my head at all, Until... *I just woke up, why did I wake up? It's not morning yet, is it?* I thought to myself, trying to turn my head to look at the clock on my phone. I couldn't move. I tried turning over again. Nope, still stuck. I opened my mouth to curse out loud, but no sound came out. Convinced that I was still sleeping, I checked around my room one final time before moving to sleep again. That's when I saw it. Something, someone, standing at the edge of my bed. Looking at me. I couldn't see their face, only the outline of their body. Still convinced that I was still dreaming, I didn't react too much, until it thundered, and I could see their face. As soon as the thunder and lightning came, it was gone. And with it, the woman. The woman who I now could recognize as the one who I cleansed out of my friend's apartment. Scared shitless, I tried to forget about it. Once again trying to move in my bed. Once again realizing that I'm still stuck. It thundered again and the lightning lit up the room. The woman was closer now before she vanished with the light. *Shit, shit, shit. It's just a dream. It's just a FUCKING DREAM.* Reminding myself to be calm, I began trying to move my fingers at least. More thunder, more lightning. She was even closer now. My fingers began moving, slowly, as if they'd just woken up. More thunder, more lightning. She was standing right next to my bed. Right next to my head. I fell still, afraid that my breaths would make her angry. Her skin was frail, almost as if she'd been dead for years and just now rising from her grave. Her smile crooked. She was wearing a black, torn and dirty dress. Her black hair was in clumps, and her eyes black and empty. But then she was gone again. When the next thundering and lightning came, she was nowhere to be seen. I released the breath I was holding when I realized that I was alone. I still couldn't move more than my hands, Instead I focused on the rain drumming against the windows. The lightning came again, but now I didn't focus on that. She was back. Flying on top of me. Screaming. "DON'T GO TOO SLEEP. HE WILL TAKE YOU. DON'T SLEEP" Panic flooded my veins as she disappeared behind me, and a man took her starting position by the edge of the bed. I began realizing what she said and with all my power tried turning around. Avoiding looking at the man. As I succeeded turning my back to the man, I realized I was face to face with the women and squeezed my eyes shut. "It's not real. It's not real" The words became a chant as I tried to cool myself down. Unsuccessfully. The womans breathing hit my face, it was cool as ice. Panicked and quick breaths escaped the both of us until I calmed down enough to ask the woman what I needed to know. "Is he gone?" Her shaken breaths stopped, and out croaked her broken voice. "Yes." Relief flooded me and I felt the bed dip as she moved out of it. I opened my eyes to look at her, and panic flooded me again at the look on her face. She had a wicked smile, almost like a psychopath. I opened my mouth to say something but before anything came out, she disappeared and reappeared at the windows. One of the windows opened wide with her standing in the opening. "But I will be back to finish what he started" The lightning struck, and she jumped out of the window with a scream. No, a wicked laugh. It went dark. Darker than before. "Hello?" *Dumbass! Don't ask if weirdos are in your house. Just go to sleep.* The lightning struck again, illuminating the empty room. The windows were closed. Undisturbed. Except for one sentenced written in something red, drippy. *Blood...* "I'll be back"

Eyes in the Storm

xvvae1

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xvvae1/eyes_in_the_storm/

Last night, my home was in the path of a tornado. I was sitting in the living room, getting my fill of sitcoms and laugh tracks when it hit. One moment my living room was filled with stale laughter and the next, it felt like a freight train was riding right overthe top of my humble home. I quickly rose to my aching fee, and looked out the window. The sky was a stormy green, and I knew what this meant. A heavy sigh escaped my lips as I stumbled to the closet under the stairs where I kept my disaster bag, and I went out exiting my home and making my way to the shelter buried in the yard. Strapping it around my shoulder, I briskly exited my home and looked around. My home was the only one for miles, sounding my empty desolate plane. Tornadoes loved homes like mine. Homes where you have to go out of your way to suck them up. I felt like it was mother nature's way of reminding us who is in charge. Looking out over the plains as I hurried to my shelter, I saw the cluster of storm clouds forming into a tornado. My eyes flicked from the clouds to my shelter, the latter of which was tucked behind my wood shed. My shelter was buried deep in the ground and would withstand any storm. It brought me comfort as I rounded the woodshed, and opened the heavy door. I looked at the clouds again and felt my throat get tight. I have seen many tornadoes while living in a verifiable middle of nowhere, but this was the first one I’d seen with arms and legs. It stood, like a titan off in the distance. Looming over my small patch of nowhere, it was then that I saw burning red orbs floating in this cluster of wind and limbs. The red spheres slowly trained upon me, and the thing began to move its large spindly legs towards me. The creature's gate was akin to someone whose legs were put on backwards, as it had an awkward shuffle. The legs were impossibly scrawny and meek as it descended from a literal tornado, closing in on me. Each step conveyed a clap of thunder, and I saw electricity cracking in the wind within this Lovecraftian beast. Hurriedly, I fumbled with the door to my shelter and scrambled inside. There, I found myself in the dark, with dwindling light coming from a small window in the door leading into the shelter. I pressed my reddening face against the glass and peered out. I could see the creature moving in on me still, and I could feel the ground trembling with each step. I said a prayer as the beast arrived right in front of my home. The being was large, larger than anything my mind could comprehend. Its dimension was unending, and it emitted a great blue hue like the buzzing of electricity in the sky before a storm. Whatever it was, as it stepped over the top of my house, its foot was so large that it made my house look like a shoe box. It let out a thunderous laugh as the home I had worked hard for all my life ceased to exist. It then turned around to me, staring at it from the subterranean, and made eye contact. Its eyes were violent and red, like the core of a volcanic eruption. It meant business as it shifted its weight over my decimated home. It was then that I saw in the distance, a semi-truck making its way down a lonely road in the distance. The truck captured the interest of the creature, ripping it away from me, as it ran as fast as its gargantuan legs would allow. ***THUMP*** ***THUMP*** ***THUMP*** With each step came a clap of thunder. To his credit, the trucker tried to speed away, but I read somewhere those things really only go 65 miles per hour these days. The truck tried swerving away, and even going off-road, mowing over hundreds of corn stalks as the driver desperately tried to escape. The monstrosity came upon the semi-truck as if it were an RC car speeding away from a petulant child. In one swift motion, the thing snatched up the semi and opened a jaw that had been previously unknown to me. Long jagged teeth, formed from lightning itself ripped away at the cab, and as the driver must have been devoured, a brief flash of red sprayed out of the creature's mouth. I winced as I watched this unfurl, and my knuckles felt like they were on fire as they desperately held the door to my shelter closed. I watched the creature finish its meal, and then walk off a few more paces. Then, its body began to break down, and it began to dissipate before my eyes. Parts fractured off and ceased to exist until there was nothing left but a fierce gust of wind. Tornadoes usually don’t last too long, I’m thankful for that. I don’t know what I would have done if that thing had stuck around much longer. The Red Cross would have never been able to get me out of my bunker. In the news, it’s just been reported as another tornado in tornado valley, it seems like no one else was privy to what happened. Maybe I would have thought I was going insane. Maybe. But, there’s a missing trucker reported as being last tracked on his GPS on the road in front of my house. They can’t find him anywhere. I know what happened to the man, and I know it must have been real. I think it’s time to move away from tornado valley.

The statue we found on the trail

xvre8f

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xvre8f/the_statue_we_found_on_the_trail/

The disappearances began shortly after we found it. Over thirty years have passed, but none of the missing were ever found. The memories of that time are still with me every day, and I know they will be there until the day I die. Maybe I'll feel better if I share what happened. I doubt it, but here goes anyway. It was early October 1991. I was sitting in my room listening to the radio when the doorbell rang. It was Jeff. "Hey Scott, want to go riding through the trails?" he asked. "Yeah. I'll meet you by the garage," I said. My mom wasn't home from work, so I left a note on the counter, letting her know I would be out riding my bike. Jeff and I rode down the street to Jodi's house. Her mom answered the door and said she'd be right out. Next, we biked over to Kara's house and found her outside shooting hoops. She ran in to tell her parents that we were going to ride around the neighborhood. Then she grabbed her bike, and we headed down the street. Usually, we would also pick up Kyle, but he was on vacation. The four of us rode down the street to where the silver metal guard rail and the Dead End sign signaled the end of the road. The grass was worn away on the left side of the rail from all the bikes and shoes that went down the path into the woods. Jodi went first, and then the rest of us followed behind. The trail went on for a long way into the woods. We passed a big area with logs on the ground for seats and a wood pile for bonfires. There were always some empty beer bottles and cigarette butts from the high school kids. Sometimes we'd collect the bottles and return them for a refund so we could buy candy. Jodi slowed down and then stopped before the path diverged into two separate trails. One led out to the main road, and the other continued into the woods. "Where should we go?" asked Jodi. "Let's keep going into the woods, and we can stop at the big hill and hang out there for a little while," said Jeff. "Sounds good," said Kara. I nodded in agreement, and we continued on our way. After riding for a few more minutes, Kara yelled, "Hey everyone, look over there!" I coasted to a stop, and the others did too. "It looks like a circle was cut into the grass," said Kara. "Let's check it out," said Jeff. When we got closer, we saw that the grass and weeds surrounding the flat section were normal, but the grass in the middle was matted down and dying. "Look," said Jodi. "The dead grass makes a perfect circle. Maybe something was left on the grass in that shape?" The ground was hard and dry within the dead grass. It was about twenty feet in diameter. I heard a very faint noise when we all stepped into the area. "Do you hear that?" I asked "Yes," said Kara. "It sounds like someone is humming." It was a deep rhythmic noise that got louder when we walked towards the center. "I think there is something here in the middle," said Jodi. There was no grass in the dead center of the circle, and it looked like something was buried in the dirt. Jeff was closest and walked over to it. He dug his hand in the soil and pulled out a small piece of wood. After looking it over, he passed it to Kara. She looked at it for a moment before giving it to Jodi, who then gave it to me. It was a small statue that looked hand carved out of wood. The longer I looked at it, the more details seemed to emerge. Two big eyes and a stubby nose were cut into it. It was smiling with pointy teeth crowded into its mouth. I turned it around in my hands, and when I got back to the front of it, I noticed a third eye on its forehead. I didn't see that the first time I looked at it. The legs were bent, and one of its hands was resting on its knees. The other one was held up with four long fingers exposed. Sharp fingernails were carved into each finger. "It is really detailed," I said and handed it back to Jeff. "That's one ugly statue," he said. "It will look perfect on my dresser." I felt the ground rumble underneath me and a sudden chill went through my body. "Did you feel that?" Jodi said. "Probably just my imagination, but it felt like the ground shook a little." "I don't think there are earthquakes in Michigan," said Kara, "at least not that you can feel…but I felt something there too." "So did I," I said. We returned to our bikes and rode over to the bottom of the hill. When we got to the top, we sat down and hung out for a while. We stayed there until the sun began to set, and then we all went home before it got too dark. That night I dreamt of standing in the dead grass with Kara, Jodi, and Jeff. No one moved or said anything. The dream seemed to last a long time and was really boring. I finally realized it was a dream and that I could control my actions. I noticed a figure standing far in the distance and started walking toward it. But as soon as I stepped out of the dead grass, I woke up. My alarm clock showed that it was two o'clock in the morning. It took me a long time to finally fall back asleep. At school that day, I was exhausted and had difficulty staying awake. Jodi was in my class, too, and I noticed she was also doing the 'trying to stay awake head nod' just like me. I went up the hill at recess to play football with my friends. Jeff was there and couldn't stop yawning. He said he got in trouble in the morning for falling asleep during the writing assignment. It was tough making it through the rest of the day, and I was glad when it was finally bedtime. I fell asleep almost instantly when my head hit the pillow. Then, it felt like I woke up, except I was standing in the circle of dead grass again. The cool breeze sent goosebumps up and down my arms. I rubbed them and could feel the bumps. Jodi, Jeff, and Kara were in the circle with me again. "This is weird," I said. Everything felt so real. I felt the tall grass in my hand and looked at the others. Jodi and Kara were looking at the ground while Jeff was staring into the middle of the dead grass where he had found the statue. I walked closer to the center and noticed the ground was dug up. There was something in there. It looked like some sort of dead animal, but it was covered with dirt, and it was difficult to tell what it was. Maggots were crawling all over it. I gagged and backed away, but the others still weren't moving. I called out to my friends. "Hey, Jodi. Jeff. Kara. Let's get out of here." After a minute, Jodi looked up at me. She started moving her arm and then her leg. "I didn't know I could move," she said. Kara and Jeff seemed to still be frozen in place. Jodi walked to the middle to see what I had been looking at. "Don't look," I said. "It's disgusting…I think it's a dead animal. It almost made me throw up." She stopped and looked around instead. "What is that?" she asked, pointing to the giant figure in the distance. Should we try to see what it is?" she asked. "Okay. Let's go," I said. We stayed on the outside edge of the circle to avoid going near the rotting animal. When we stepped out of the dead grass, the dream abruptly ended, and I was awake in my bed. My clock showed two o'clock in the morning once again. This time I was so tired that I fell back asleep right away. I don't remember any of my dreams from my second sleep session. At school, Jodi told me I was in her dream. She mentioned seeing a giant figure in the distance and waking up after walking out of the dead grass. I told her I had the same dream, but she didn't believe me until I mentioned the dead animal in the center. "So…are we sharing the same dream?" she asked. "Looks like it," I said. We asked Kara and Jeff about their dreams the last couple of nights. They said they didn't remember them and thought we were crazy when we told them that we were in the same dream. After school, we met up to ride our bikes and went on the trails again. When we got near the dead grass area, Jodi suddenly stopped. "Look!" she shouted and pointed past the trees. I looked where she was pointing but didn't see anything at first. Then I thought I saw a flicker of movement that looked like the figure from my dreams. It went away after I blinked my eyes. "I think I saw it," I said, "but only for a second or two." "I didn't see anything," said Jeff. "Neither did I," said Kara. "Are you two going crazy or just trying to scare us?" "It was like the thing in our dream," I said. Kara rolled her eyes. "Let's just go back on our bikes and go to the hill," she said. Jodi and I stayed back for a minute, continuing to look for the figure. We joined them back at the bikes when we couldn't find it again. We rode to the hill and hung out there for a while. We talked about Halloween, school, and being excited to attend junior high next year. When it was getting close to dinner time, we headed back and went our separate ways to go home. That night I had the same dream again. After Jodi and I started moving, we called Jeff and Kara. Jeff wouldn't look away from the rotting animal in the middle, which began to smell even worse. Kara finally looked up at us and jumped when she noticed us. "What…how did we get here?" she said as she looked around. "Am I dreaming?" Jodi smiled. "See…we aren't crazy…well, maybe all of us are crazy. We'll have to see if you remember this tomorrow." Kara looked around again. "This feels so real," she said. "Is this lucid dreaming? I've heard my older brother and his friends talking about it…they wanted to be able to make out with the hot girls at their school, they said. I thought they were just idiots, thinking they could control their dreams." "I don't know if we can control this dream," I said. "It feels so real, and we can move around, but I keep thinking of Kelly Kapowski, and she won't appear." Jodi laughed and then closed her eyes. "Have the New Kids on the Block shown up yet?" she asked before opening her eyes. "Oh well," I said. "Let's see what we can do. Just don't walk out of the dead grass, or you'll wake up. It happened to me the last two nights. I think it was just last night for Jodi." "No. It was two nights for me, too," said Jodi. I didn't remember my dream the first night, but I woke up at two o'clock and couldn't fall back asleep. "That's the same time I woke up both nights," I said. "Hey, guys. What is that?" Kara asked. She was looking at the figure in the distance. "That's what we saw when we were here yesterday," I said. "It was only there for a second. But whatever it is, it just stays there in the dream." "What should we do?" asked Jodi. "I don't want to wake up at two again, so let's stay in the circle here." "What's that smell?" asked Kara. She walked towards the middle. "Wait!" I shouted. "You're not going to want to see that." "Ewwww, gross!" she said and backed away. "What is that?" "I think it is an animal," I said. "Jeff won't stop staring at it." "Let's try to wake him up or whatever you call this," Jodi said, referring to the three of us. We all shouted Jeff's name. When he didn't respond, I walked over to him and shook his shoulder. His eyes blinked slowly, and then he turned his head toward me. When we made eye contact, he got startled and stumbled backward. He lost his balance and fell into the tall grass outside our circle. I stood there waiting to wake up, but the dream continued. "We didn't wake up," I said. Jeff stood up and walked toward the center of the circle. "What's that?" he asked. I didn't understand why we didn't wake up this time. To test it out, I stepped outside of the circle. A low rumbling growl startled me just as I woke up. I sat up quickly in bed and thought I could hear the echoing of the growl before it was lost in the silence of the early morning. I looked at my clock. It was 2:12. Well, I guess it was an improvement from the last two nights. I fell back asleep a little while later but didn't remember my dreams. At school on Friday, we talked about the dream during recess. Jeff was excited about it. "So I guess you guys weren't trying to trick me," he said. "That was my third night with the same dream," I said. "Did you guys hear the growl before you woke up?' "I didn't," said Jodi. "Me neither," said Jeff. "I think I heard something," said Kara. "But I woke up quickly and wasn't sure what it was." "That was weird how we didn't wake up when Jeff fell outside the circle," I said. "I have an idea to try if we have the dream again tonight." The bell rang, signaling the end of recess. While we ran to line up to go back inside, I thought someone was watching us. It felt like something was right behind me, staring at the back of my head. Each time I turned around, there was nothing there. Back in class, I had that same feeling. I was sure someone was staring through the window. But just like outside, when I looked, no one was there. I felt uneasy the rest of the day and was nervous about falling asleep. When I turned out the lights, the shadows shimmied and swayed while I quickly ran and jumped into my bed. I thought for sure something was going to grab me before I made it safely under the covers of my bed. It took me a while to fall asleep. When I finally did, I found myself in the familiar circle of dead grass. This time, everyone else was moving around. "Oh good, you're finally here," Jodi said to me. "What took you so long?" "I had trouble falling asleep," I said. The others were looking at the tall grass around our circle. Jodi looked at me and said, "What was the idea you had that you were talking about at recess?" "Nothing happened when Jeff fell out of the circle, but we woke up after he went back in, and I stepped out," I said. Jeff looked confused. "What do you mean?" he asked. "Why don't you try walking out of the circle first," I said. Jeff took a few small steps into the tall grass. "We're still here," I said. "Okay, now stay there, and let's see what happens when we walk out." The rest of us walked over to Jeff. When we stepped out of the circle, nothing happened. "It worked!" shouted Jodi. We walked all the way to the dirt path we would ride our bikes on. It was weird how everything felt so still and quiet. There was no wind, but I could feel the air on my skin. The sun was out in the middle of the sky, and it felt warmer than it should have for October. We continued our walk on the path and found our bikes lying in the grass. "Sweet, our bikes are here," said Jeff. We hopped on them and rode to the bottom of the big hill. "Is it getting darker out?" asked Kara. The sun was now only about forty-five degrees from the horizon. It had moved fast once we left the circle. "Looks like it," said Jodi. As we walked up the hill, the sun went lower and lower. It was setting behind the tree once we reached the top. The sky was tinged with purple and pink, but it didn't look beautiful like a typical sunset. It felt like something terrible was going to happen, and the world around us looked ominous. It wasn't just me that felt that way. "Why does the sky look so wrong?" asked Jodi. The sun didn't seem to be moving anymore. The woods behind us were shrouded in shadows, and the trees were moving even though there wasn't any wind. The low rumbling growl I heard last night broke the silence and filled our ears. We could see a long way from the top of the hill. I looked at the figure I had seen before, which I was sure was the source of the sound. It was still far away, but I could tell it had gotten closer. "What was that?" asked Jeff. "That's the noise I heard yesterday," I said. I looked at the figure again, and it was noticeably closer. "I think that thing is coming after us." It was moving fast, and the sun was disappearing quickly. Soon we were plunged into the darkness and couldn't see it anymore. But we could hear it tearing through the trees and bushes. "How do we wake up?" asked Jeff. "Maybe we go back to the circle," I said. We ran down the hill and climbed onto our bikes. As we were riding, the chain on my bike snapped, and I fell hard to the ground, knocking the wind out of me. The others didn't see me fall and kept on going. They were out of sight before I could manage to shout to them. The growling continued, and I could hear the thing running toward me. I struggled to stand back up. The trees shook, and I saw some get knocked over as it got closer. I started running but stumbled and fell. My foot was throbbing in pain. The thing emerged onto the trail and stopped a few feet from me. It stood about eight feet tall. Its hair looked like dead vines. The legs were like tree trunks, and the arms hung like gnarled branches from an old tree. Its mouth was open, showing the long thorn-like teeth. Its fingernails were like sticks carved into a spear. Its two big eyes were black and hollow. I started backing up when I saw the eye on its forehead open. It was cloudy, and I couldn't pull my eyes from it. It felt like it was looking deep into my mind. I started thinking about my trip to Disney World with my family a few years ago. The vivid details of the memory flooded my mind, and it felt like I was there again, like a dream within a dream. I was on the rides again, meeting the characters and having fun with my mom and dad. This was our last vacation before my dad passed away, so it was an extra special memory. Then I felt a hand on my shoulder shaking me. "Scott! Get up!" shouted Jodi. "Oh my god, that's the statue!" shouted Jeff. My friends helped me up, and we ran back as fast as we could back to the circle. I could hear the monster following closely behind us, and I could feel it looking at me. It took everything I had to not turn around and look at it. Finally, we made it to the dead grass and huddled together on the ground. The monster got closer but stopped just before the dead grass started. Then it backed up a few steps, still watching us. It opened its third eye again, but it was easier to look away this time. "Don't look at it!" I shouted. We all sat close and looked at each other, waiting and hoping to wake up. After a while, I thought I heard a car alarm in the distance and started looking around. "Do you hear that?" I asked. The others looked puzzled and shook their heads. I started to tell them what it sounded like when, all of a sudden, I found myself in my bed with my morning alarm loudly beeping next to me. I tried to think of my Disney trip but couldn't remember any of the rides I went on or the characters I met. The plane ride and the hotel were still in my memory, but it was fuzzy when I tried to picture what we did. Saturday afternoon, we met at Jeff's house. His aunt and uncle, and older cousin were visiting for the weekend. "I can't remember my Disney trip from second grade anymore," I said. "What are you talking about?" asked Jodi "Last night, when that thing was staring at me with that big eye on its forehead, I started thinking about that trip…but when I woke up, I could barely remember any of the trip," I said. "That wasn't that long ago. How could you not remember it?" Kara asked. "I think it took my memory. I don't know how else to explain it. It felt like that eye was digging inside my mind. Did you guys feel anything like that?" I asked. Jodi and Jeff shook their heads no, but Kara nodded. "I felt something like you were saying…like it was digging into my mind. I don't remember thinking of anything special other than being really scared of that thing," said Kara. That night we were all in the circle again. "Where is the monster?" asked Jodi. "I don't see it where it was before." "I don't see it either," I said. A piercing scream echoed across our dream world. It was coming from our neighborhood. "That must be my cousin," said Jeff. "I was afraid he'd be here with us." "Why would he be here?" asked Jodi. "I told him about the statue. He said it was just a stupid statue and thought I was lying about the dreams," said Jeff. "Then he took it off my dresser and threw it in my closet." "Then why isn't he in the ring here with us?" asked Kara. "I don't know," said Jeff. "But we need to get him and bring him here where it is safe." Jeff led the way out of the dead grass to the dirt trail. Our bikes were lying on the ground like before. I checked mine, and the chain looked normal. We rode quickly to the neighborhood and looked around for the monster while we went. When we got to Jeff's street, we stopped. The monster was standing in the front yard with its back to us. A boy was standing unmoving in front of it. "That's Brian," said Jeff. We stood and waited, afraid of trying to help. Finally, Jeff rode his bike toward his house. "Jeff, wait!" said Kara. We watched Jeff ride right up to the monster and start yelling at it. Then, it turned around with all three eyes opened and stepped closer, towering over him. "Go away!" Jeff yelled. The monster's third eye closed, and the rest of us stood in disbelief as it turned around and walked away. We rode over to Jeff and Brian when it had retreated a good distance. Jeff was talking to him, but Brian didn't say anything and just stared blankly ahead. We watched as his face and chest began to cave in. It was like his face had been sucked in by a vacuum. Then he collapsed to the ground and crumbled into a pile of dust. There wasn't anything else we could do, so we rode back to the dead grass. I looked back and saw the monster following us. "It is coming back!" I shouted. We sped up and jumped off our bikes once we were near the dead grass. I felt the urge to stop and turn around before I made it inside the circle. I noticed that Kara and Jodi also stopped. I kept my back to it at first, but I could feel that eye penetrating my skull. "We need to wake up," I said as I began to turn around. I couldn't stop myself from looking in the eye. It was mesmerizing. I started thinking about when my mom and I moved into the house in this neighborhood after my dad died. I was helping bring things inside the house. Then I felt someone grab onto me and pull me to the ground. It was Jeff. "I was shouting at you, but you wouldn't respond," he said. I looked at Kara, and now she was staring at the monster. Jeff ran over to her and shook her shoulders, standing between her and the thing. "What happened?" she asked. "I was thinking about when I first got my puppy. "Wake up!" Jeff yelled. Suddenly I was sitting up in my bed. It was an hour before my alarm would go off, but I wasn't going back to sleep. I had to go apple picking with my mom that day. Usually, I would have liked it, but I was anxious to see my friends after that dream. Although, it was nice to be distracted for a while, and the cinnamon apple donuts were delicious. When I got back home, I grabbed my bike and went to Jodi's house. "Did you hear about Brian?" she asked me when she answered the door. "No…what happened?" I said. "He's gone. They can't find him anywhere." [Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/y6g5f0/the_statue_we_found_on_the_trail/)

I woke up handcuffed to my stalker in the middle of the woods

xvflle

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xvflle/i_woke_up_handcuffed_to_my_stalker_in_the_middle/

My head was spinning. No… no it was the entire world. Everything is a blur. Dizzying lights and jarring sounds filled me as I tried to stand. Then I was yanked back down to the ground, my fog clearing as I got a good look at the person beside me. Noah Hunt. Noah…. Hunt. My stalker. The boy that had been my living nightmare since freshman year. “What the fuck are you doing here you motherfucker??” I shouted as I tried to get up again. Instead, I fell to the ground again, yanked down hard by his weight and as my vision cleared up more I saw the reason why. We were handcuffed together. The metal was bound so tightly against my wrist that I saw scratches and drops of blood against it as I tried to wake Noah up. Flashes of memory sprang into my mind. I remembered going to a party. Gemma Angelson, her parents had a rental property near the lake. I had gone to try and score a few packs of marijuana from a friend, and snuck out so that my parents wouldn’t find me. But it was hard to say for sure how long ago that was. I tried again to wake Noah, but he wasn’t breathing and I began to fear the worst. Was he… dead? In the dim light of the canopy I could see what looked like deep gashes across his chest and face. Something had attacked him. Instantly I was in defense mode as I scooted closer to his cold body and looked about the woods closely and cautiously. The forest was curiously silent, and it unsettled me. I took a moment to gather myself and tried again to stand. Noah weighed about 220 so the job wasn’t easy. “Help! Help!! Please someone!” I shouted at the top of my lungs. It was eerily quiet, as if the entire forest was hiding from whatever had attacked Noah. Dozens of questions filled my hand as I dragged his corpse to a tree. Had he lured me here? Was I a willing participant? And perhaps most important of all, what had hunted us and tracked us and killed Noah? I needed to move and get to shelter if I wanted to gain any answers, so I used what little strength I had and pulled myself up to a hunched over position, my right side tugging downward to carry Noah. Gemma’s cabin can’t be far, I told myself. I tried to spot the sun amid the treetops to get a sense of direction, wishing I had my phone with me. The only thing of any use was Noah’s backpack and it was on the other side of the meadow, it might have had a satellite phone in it, I thought as I began to crawl toward it. It wasn’t long before I heard the most unsettling noise come from the woods and I froze in place. I’ve never been fond of the forest. When I was little; we lived close to a small patch of trees and my friends loved to go and play there but not me. I was probably the straightest arrow you could find and I was worried that the woods would swallow me whole if I stepped foot in them. At night as I fell asleep as a child the only thing I ever found remotely comforting about the forest was the ambient noises of crickets or the rustling of leaves. A calmness that descends over the trees as everything goes to sleep and it felt like nothing bad could ever happen to me thanks to this sense of ease that blanketed me. There wasn’t any type of calmness found here, instead the forest was eerily quiet to the point that it made me wonder if there was even a living thing nearby. And then the noise of the beast. I can’t describe it properly. I’ve never been good at identifying sounds, but it certainly didn’t sound like any animal I was familiar with. Maybe it was a bear or a large carnivore coming back to check on its fresh kill? If so, I suddenly had even more reason to cross the meadow and try to get out of here. Again I tugged at Noah’s corpse and crawled across the grassy clearing, stopping every few feet to catch my breath. This wasn’t exactly the perfect time for me to realize I wasn’t in good shape and Noah had to be at least two hundred and twenty pounds if not more. I was starting to realize that if this became a fight of flight scenario, running wouldn’t be a good option. Pushing myself up again, I dragged us to as close to the backpack as possible and yanked it toward me. I think I said a prayer and then I unzipped the pack to see what he had brought along for the trip. Instead of seeing anything useful, it made my heart drop to my stomach. There were different hunting knives, at least six of them all looking like they were meant to skin game animals along with rope, twist ties and other things clearly designed to keep me from running away. Duct tape for my mouth, drugs to keep me sedated. But nothing that could help me in my current predicament. I kept digging, trying to not make a sound as the howling in the woods got louder. Was it a pack of wolves? Was I about to be their next meal now that Noah was beginning to decay? I froze in shock as I saw strange silver coins near the bottom of his bag along with a journal that was opened to a page filled with some kind of symbols that I didn’t recognize. Was this like a code? And if so, for what? I reached into the bag to pull out the journal, and just as I did I heard a harsh rush of air overhead and I dropped to the ground, freezing in place. I felt my chest beat rapidly against the ground as I heard the flapping of large wings and my eyes darted about the tree line. Whatever was hunting us was aerial, I realized as I kept as still as possible. I had no idea if the creature would be fooled by my attempt at playing possum, but it was my only chance at survival. Above me I heard branches crack and then another loud burst of wind as the beast crashed down on the floor of the forest and let out a shriek. I was too terrified to look, but just from the reverberation on the ground I could tell that this thing was large. I focused on the pool of blood that was near to Noah’s abdomen where he had been intentionally attacked and saw little ripples against the still liquid as the creature got closer. Long bony legs arched over his prone body and I could feel a warm body against my own skin. It took every ounce of courage I had to not shake in fear as it dropped its head toward Noah and began to peck at his insides. I closed my eyes and started to count backward from one hundred in the hopes that it would help, but instead all I could hear was the crunching of flesh in this beast’s jaw. Saliva was dripping against my own skin. And then, a few excruciating moments later, it was moving toward the treeline and I convinced myself to open my eyes. I’m not sure what I was expecting to see. It was gloomy and overcast and maybe my eyes were playing tricks on me but the creature had to be at least nine or ten feet tall. Perhaps most striking of all was that it looked like it was wearing clothes, a dark bloody red tattered cloak that reached down to its bony legs and obscured most of its body from view. And it wore a mask. Not your typical mask, but one made of the whitest bone like it had specifically crafted it from its victims and custom made to strike fear in new prey. I couldn’t see its eyes but the fact that this thing which acted like an animal and yet stood like a man was now looking toward me with a sense of awareness, it made me want to shit my pants. I told myself those were going to be my final moments on this planet and I was almost okay with that. Then the creature shrieked again and disappeared into the woods, apparently too stuffed with Noah’s intestines to bother with me. I pulled hard on the handcuff that yoked me to his corpse; realizing that the beast likely felt confident I wasn’t going anywhere anyway. For the next hour I tried to crawl toward the edge of the meadow, stopping to catch my breath and trying to not have a panic attack as darkness fell over the forest. I told myself I couldn’t give up. My family needed me to get home. My friends didn’t have a clue where I was and I needed to fight to live. But that was beginning to feel like it couldn’t happen, not as long as I was stuck alongside Noah’s body. It began to rain about ten minutes later and I took it as a sign to rest. Surely the beast wouldn’t return during the mild storm. I closed my eyes and retraced my steps. Gemma’s party had not been the smash I had been hoping for, but some parts of it had been pretty good. I remembered getting a chance to smoke a little weed, kiss a few cute senior boys and even make a cool video with my best friends to go on Tiktok. For some reason those random videos were spiraling through my head as I lay there on the grass and one in particular popped in my head about a couple that shifted their weight and carried each other. I looked over at Noah’s corpse, realizing that maybe I could find a way to lift his body and carry it rather than drag it and decided to give it a try. I can’t tell you how uncomfortable it was for me to move and straddle his dead body. Noah Hunt has been nothing but a creep to me all year long, constantly trying to take unsolicited pictures of me or follow me home. I tried to even get a restraining order against him but the police didn’t take it seriously. I wondered what they would say about current circumstances as his open wound mushed against my thigh and I held my breath and leaned in to wrap my arms around his waist. I used the pack as a way of tying a small makeshift bond between our bodies and zipped it up, carrying the load next to my body to keep his wound from touching any of my own. Even with the handcuffs I could get it done, and now the real question became would I be able to carry his dead body. I made my grip as tight possible and started to pull back, groaning against the shift as his arms came over me. Next I used my legs to push myself up and in the process doing the same to him. In a way, having the handcuff in the position it was in now, interlocking with my grip;was a good way of making sure he didn’t slump over and we both fall to the forest floor. Before I could anticipate what would happen though, his body started to tilt toward mine and I began to push up to lean it against my right shoulder. It wasn’t exactly a perfect balance like I hoped for but now I could walk and it felt as though with the way his arms were around me, it would be easier to drag him. His dead eyes were staring right down at my chest and I did my best to not puke. If he had been alive I knew Noah would be having a field day being so close to me. Then I began to slowly move toward the forest, hoping that any sense of direction would come to me. I don’t really know how far I walked or for how long, all I could think about was that I needed to keep going. But I used the moon as a compass and kept it straight ahead, thinking that maybe I could find the lake and then weave my way around to Gemma’s cabin. As it turned out that actually worked. I found the shoreline probably half an hour later and from there, I worked right, spotting a shady outline of a cabin in the distance. Maybe I felt a renewed sense of urgency because I heard something off in the distance again or maybe I was just so excited to get help, but those final moments getting to the cabin seemed to rush by and I wasn’t even really aware of the fact that I had likely dragged Noah’s corpse so far. Loud music was still blaring from the cabin as I climbed the steps, a smile on my face as I shouted to someone inside to come out. But there was no response and as I reached the door I realized it was unhinged. My excitement turned to dread as the door slowly opened and I saw a scene of carnage. Blood was everywhere, even on the ceiling. There were bodies strewn about and tossed like dolls and most of them were torn apart with little left to recognize them. The creature had come here and killed every single one of my friends, I realized as I slumped down on my knees and tried to hold back tears. As I did, I realized too late that I was not alone in that cabin. The tall cloaked creature was in the dim hallway, it’s soft growl alerting me to its presence as it loomed nearer. “Get the hell away from me!!” I shouted as I reached for some pots and pans nearby on the marble counter and tossed them toward the beast. For some reason it was like tossing a rock into a pond and the monster’s body rippled and shifted. Unaffected by my outburst. “What do you want from me? Why not just kill me too?” I shrieked as it kept staring at me. Given that I had lost so much already, at that moment I did feel like giving up. I didn’t really see a way that I could survive. Then, as if acknowledging what I had just screamed, the monster opened its cloak and stretched out a long charred finger toward me, pointing toward Noah. I felt the air leave my lungs for a very long moment, immediately repulsed by the idea that the corpse I had been carrying around was what it was searching for. I didn’t know what to think or how to feel. I’ve hated Noah Hunt for months now, but I can’t say that I ever felt he deserved to die. And especially not at the hands of a gruesome and disgusting humanoid creature. I could only respond to keep myself alive and shoved his weight toward the creature, closing my eyes as it’s body reacted the way an ant mound does when you disturb it. My hand felt tight as I was yanked forward automatically and it began to rip and shred apart what little was left of Noah. But the carnage did not last long, instead it’s long bony mask was turning up toward me and sniffing the air, almost as if it was unsatisfied by what I had just offered it. “What more do you want?!” I shrieked, too mortified to move as strange tendrils of flesh vined their way toward my chest. I was certain that I was now about to die. But instead; it was the backpack that had been hoisted against me the creature now felt for. The ratty old thing fell away as it broke Noah’s arm and yanked it towards the empty holes of its mask. I watched in fascination and horror as the fleshy tendrils of its body searched the bag and dug out the coins that I had seen near the bottom. It was looking at them the way a mother might a lost infant, or so it appeared to me. I took the chance to reach down and begin to pull my handcuffed arm away from Noah. Thanks to the new wounds on his body, his arm was now dislocated from the rest of his corpse and I actually could move freely. Having that bit of flesh still hang freely from my side was disorienting at first, but I couldn’t let it bother me if I wanted to survive. I began to run toward the open woods again. As I reached the porch of the cabin, I had second thoughts and looked to the carnage. Gemma, or one of the others might have had a cellphone on them, I thought as I slowly moved toward their bodies. The creature was paying me no heed but still I kept my movements slow and calculated as I reached toward one of the fresh corpses and checked for any sign of an electronic device. Gemma was the one that actually still had a working phone and as much as I hated to do it, I had to break her fingers off of the device. Then I had to use her broken thumb as a way of unlocking it. My first instinct was to call 911, but then an image appeared on her background as a screensaver that stopped me cold. It was a casual shot of Gemma standing next to her lakehouse with Noah, and they were smiling and kissing as they looked toward the camera. Gemma has always been vocal about her disgust for Noah as well, to the point that I was sure he wasn’t supposed to be at this party at all. Yet this simple picture painted a different point of view for me. Instead of touching the phone icon I began to read through her texts. Noah was the main one at the top. We need to be able to contain it. What’s going on down there? Was the ritual successful? I don’t like how you are handcuffed to that thing. She could hurt you. Wait. I stopped reading and realized that they were talking… about me. What ritual? And why did she think I would somehow hurt Noah? Out of the corner of my eye I saw the beast crawling it’s way toward a wide gaping hole in the back of the room. A doorway to Gemma’s parents wine cellar. A flash of memory came back to me as I remember asking her why we couldn’t go down and taste some of the brews. She had offered a flimsy excuse about her parents finding out about the party, but now I was beginning to see things in a different way. Splinters of wood scattered around the basement door told me that the beast had once been sealed down here, and now it was returning… I found myself stepping down the stairwell, following the creature like a lamb being led to slaughter. It was moving its goopy body toward a stone slab that was centered in the room, placing the coins down on the slab in a precise meaningful way. All around I saw signs of wanton destruction from when the creature had apparently been released and then my eyes focused on a video camera that had toppled over. My mouth felt dry as I picked it up and rewound the tape. Deep down I knew what I was going to see, yet being confronted by reality was still a game changer. The tape started with the stone slab front and center and then I saw Noah’s face brimming with life. With more purpose than I had ever seen. He was rattling off the date and then claimed this the twenty third attempt. Behind him I heard voices. Then I saw Gemma and one of her close friends. Carrying my sleeping body to the slab. Noah was finishing up with the coins and placing them back in his backpack before encouraging Gemma to get back. Once he was alone, He reached into the backpack and got out the handcuffs. “A precaution to keep the monster from hurting anyone else,” he said to the camera. Then he began to chant some ancient words, something that made my insides shake. On camera I saw my body so the same thing, and from within my body the creature was starting to emerge. He was doing best to not be frightened as its charred body grappled with him and lifted him into the air. Everywhere the beast moved my body was now its unconscious shadow. I heard the whispers of a word that told me it came from my subconscious nightmares. I was the harbinger and cause of this evil being released on the world. The camera ended with the masked creature looking into it and I could see my own dark reflection. I stared across at the stone slab where it now slept, mortified by these revelations as I found myself stepping toward it. I was a killer. A monster. An evil that Noah and my friends had tried to contain. Tried and failed. I turned my palm toward the fleshy tendrils with an open hand and waited as it snakes across the open air, wrapping itself tight against my skin. It had been running around the woods scared and confused and hungry. In a matter of seconds it was now merging again with me, its host. Less than a few minutes later, I was standing alone in the cellar. I looked around at the blood and at the handcuff that now hung freely from my wrist. The last remnants of Noah were eaten by the monster as it came back inside me, I realized. I took a few moments to catch my breath and then smashed the camera to bits as I took out Gemma’s phone and finally dialed 911. I began to walk upstairs, flashes of the shadow that lived inside me replaying the carnage. They had tried to stop it. Tried and failed so miserably. Next I stood out near the lake and looked down at the coins. These things that I felt were like offspring to me now. What powers did they hold? I scattered them into the lake and walked away before the authorities ever arrived, deleting what I could on the phone I had just used to make the call. It was now to be a transcript of this nightmare. When they arrive I was sure they would assume it was a teenage drunk party gone horribly wrong, and I would be seen as the victim of a sick prank. No one would know of the darkness inside me. The evil that was now whispering in my ear. It was fully awake and our souls were symbiotic. There are others, it said, like me that I needed to find. So I walked until I found the highway. I flagged down a friendly motorist. “Where to?” they asked as I climbed into the back. I looked into the rearview mirror and saw the bony mask of the beast where my face had once been. It was almost in complete control. My will was to follow. This was how I would see myself now, for what I truly was. “Anywhere,” I said, my voice trembling. “Everywhere.” It added. [330](https://www.reddit.com/r/KyleHarrisonwrites/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app)

I'm The Mayor of Hanover, Kentucky. There's Something Off About The Man Running Against Me

xvegnd

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xvegnd/im_the_mayor_of_hanover_kentucky_theres_something/

I'm a patriot. Plain and simple. I believe in Hanover. It's why I've dedicated my career to saving it. My name is Reed Martin and I am a great many things. I am a God fearing man. I am a seeker of truth. I am a believer in family values. I am a beer drinker, a meat eater, a handyman, a gun owner (I wear a pistol on me at all times) and most importantly I am a real Goddamn red blooded American! It's why the voters trusted me to be Hanovers mayor. It’s why one day, they’re gonna trust me as Kentuckys Governor. And I ain't gonna steer them wrong. ​ Course… That bid for Governor would be a whole hell of a lot easier if I were already holding some kind of office. So it’s important I actually stay mayor. ​ Normally that hasn’t been much of an issue. Up until now, I’ve managed to run the last two elections mostly uncontested. The opponents I would’ve had either dropped out, or had an… Unfortunate turn of fortune, once certain secrets of theirs got out… ​ Brett Hardy however seemed like he was cut from a different kind of cloth. He’d been an office jockey up until the last election when he’d nabbed a seat on the city council. And now he was gunning for my seat. ​ Truth be told I didn’t quite like Hardy, and not just because he was after my job. Oh, I know he was a hit with the ladies, being a conventionally handsome kind of man. But it all felt as though it was only skin deep. I thought that his smile always looked a little bit forced and never quite reached his eyes. If anything I’d have said that man had the deadest eyes I’ve ever seen… He never dressed up too much, always wearing a button down shirt and a tie. If the occasion called for it, he’d wear a suit jacket, but that was it. Then of course there was that goddamned bowler hat. I suppose it was part of his image… As far as I could tell, the man had worn such a thing before he’d started dipping his toes in politics. I never quite got the appeal of it. It was a goddamn bowler hat, nothing special. But you never saw the man without it. It was weird, to say the least. ​ Now, normally I wouldn’t have felt that threatened by a man like Hardy… But he made it damn clear that he was going to be a threat to me from the moment he put his name in for mayor. I don’t expect most people to understand this, but any true God fearing American will tell you that society has become a little… Corrupted, as of late. Those classic Christian family values have fallen by the wayside as people descend further and further into chaos, forgetting that Jesus is always watching and judging. I’ve always been a vocal supporter of keeping the old family values around. Hardy on the other hand wasn’t… ​ If anything he seemed to tap into the exact opposite kinds of sentiments. When he spoke, I heard him talk about pride parades and queer youth. Putting funding into this, that and the other thing… And those suckers just at it right up. Left to his own devices, Hardy could’ve caused me a whole hell of a lot of trouble and well, I just wasn’t going to take that lying down now, was I? ​ There’s a fella in town I’ve worked with before. A gentleman by the name of Jack Pollock. Now, years in the past Pollock was a detective, although in time he eventually split off from the local police and went into business on his own as a PI. Really, who could blame him? He got good money for what he did and in my experience, he was awfully good at his job. ​ He’d helped me deal with political rivals like Hardy before… In fact he was half the reason I’d become mayor in the first place. Pollock was good at digging up dirt that people didn’t want uncovered. He’d helped me prove just how corrupt my predecessor was, digging up the details of his illicit affairs. Oh, the voters just loved hearing about that… ​ Then when some jackasses had suggested running against me last election, Pollock gave me some information to help me convince them to withdraw… Secrets that they’d rather not have gotten out. I figured that Hardy would go down just as easily when I hired Pollock… Although for some reason, I had no such luck. ​ When I’d hired Pollock to look into Hardy, I’d expected to hear back from him within a couple of weeks. Well, a couple of weeks came and went. No phone calls. No emails. Nothing. And all the while, Hardy kept doing better and better in the polls… It was starting to get a little worrying… ​ So I’d headed on down to Pollock's office just to remind him of exactly what I was paying him for. He had a cozy little setup downtown and I’d stopped by discreetly during the late evening. As always, his office smelled of cigarette smoke and old paper. ​ When I came in, Pollock himself was at his desk, tapping away at his computer. He didn’t even look at me when I came in, nor did he even acknowledge me when I spoke: “Jack, long time no see. How’ve you been doing, buddy?” He’d just stayed right at his computer, taking the occasional puff of his cigarette and emptying it into his overflowing ashtray. It was only when I leaned on his desk that he finally looked at me. Pollock was a stony eyed, stern looking sonofabitch… Although there was something off in the way he stared at me that day. ​ “Martin.” He’d said plainly. “Thought I’d come by and check in on you. Haven’t heard anything lately. How’s it going with Hardy?” Without so much as another word, Pollock just opened a drawer on his desk and took out his checkbook. He quickly jotted something down, tore off the check, and handed it to me. ​ “What’s this?” I asked. “Your deposit back.” He replied plainly, “I’m dropping the Hardy job.” “Dropping… What the hell do you mean you’re dropping it?” I asked. “I’m not working that case anymore. Find someone else.” ​ I took the check, then stared back at him. “Find someone… The hell are you playing at, boy?” “I’m not working that case anymore.” He said. “Why the hell not?” He paused, before looking back up at me. He seemed to think for a moment, before just slowly shaking his head. “It’s not worth it.” He said. ​ What the hell was with him? Did Hardy pay him off or something? “If it’s about money, I can double your pay.” I said, “If Hardys paying you something, I’ll pay you more!” “This ain’t about the money, Martin.” Pollock said, “It ain’t even about the politics… Just leave… You and I are through.” “Through?” I asked. “You gonna just keep repeating the last word I said? Yeah. Through.” Pollock replied, “And if you’ve got any goddamn sense you’ll walk out of here before things get ugly.” ​ “Are you threatening me?” I asked. “I’m not.” He said, before sighing and shaking his head. He took another drag on his cigarette, “Just… Get out of here, Martin… Fuck the election. Fuck everything. Just get out.” I stared at him for a few moments, before scoffing in disgust. “Suit yourself.” I said, before leaving that washed up old cop to smoke in his office. I wasn’t quite sure what the hell had gotten into him but if he didn’t want my goddamn money, I’d take my business elsewhere. ​ Turns out that was easier said than done… ​ The next PI I reached out to refused the job since she wasn’t interested in this ‘political blackmail shit’. Then the one after that refused to work with me because Pollock had said no. I kept my eyes open for someone else, but in the meanwhile, it became clear to me that I was gonna have to get my own hands dirty. ​ Everyone has something they want to hide… Hardy might’ve maintained a squeaky clean image. But I had little doubt in my mind that there was something he didn’t want getting out. Something I could use. I just needed to find it. ​ So I rented a discreet car just for the purpose of keeping an eye on Hardy and did just that. I got to work. Hardy was not a man who lived a particularly interesting life. He was single, lived alone, didn’t smoke, rarely drank and wasn’t exactly that social. On paper it was hard to see what kind of scandal I could even find on the man. You can’t cheat if you don’t have a spouse and you can’t make a drunken ass of yourself if you’re sober. ​ The first night I spent tailing him, he’d gone to dinner with some of his backers, then went home. From what I could see through the windows, he seemed to just be sitting on his couch, watching TV. Some old 90s sitcoms, nothing juicy. This was hardly the big scoop I was looking for… But I figured I might as well be patient. ​ On my second night watching Hardy, he proved to me that he was just as boring as I’d feared. He’d gotten dinner at a local chain restaurant, did some grocery shopping, and went home, where he disappeared into his office. ​ I did consider trying to get hold of his internet search history, or trying to get to his emails… Although I had no idea where to even start with that and to be honest, that kind of thing could’ve pretty easily backfired. It probably would’ve been a waste of time anyways. As far as I could tell Hardy was working on something, not using his computer for ‘*leisure time*’... All the same, I got the feeling that even the porn this guy looked at would’ve been boring, if he even bothered to look at any of that stuff. Still. I persisted. ​ On the third night that I followed him, I still got next to nothing. The only blip on the radar worth mentioning is that I saw him stop at a fast food restaurant for dinner, where he ordered a fish burger. ​ Yeah. Scandalous… The voters would just love that. He’d gone home again fairly early and I got the impression he’d be headed right back to his office. ​ Lord, I probably could’ve used an actual PI for this business… This was boring as sin. For a moment, I honestly did wonder if Pollock had dropped this case because there was nothing to find… Although if that were the case, he really didn’t need to be that goddamn hostile towards me about dropping it. That part didn’t add up. ​ Hardy had parked his car in his driveway, gotten out, and headed to his front door… Then for the first time in three days the man did something actually interesting. ​ Right before he went inside he stopped. He turned and then he looked right at me. My heart seized up in my chest a little. ​ Hardy just stared at me, standing stock still. There was no mistaking where he was looking. There was no pretending that his eyes weren’t locked right on me. They absolutely were. He stared at me… And then, he just turned and headed inside. ​ He didn’t close his front door behind him. He left it wide open and it took me a few moments to realize that he was inviting me in… I thought about it for a few moments… Obviously, the sonofabitch had caught me. What was the point in pretending he hadn’t? ​ If he was leaving the door open like that, obviously he wanted to talk. Realistically I had nothing to fear from him. Hell I was even wearing my pistol as per usual. Why was I so shaken by this? ​ Eventually, I just killed the engine to my car, got out, and headed for the door. If the jig was up, I might as well confront the sonofabitch directly, right? ​ When I stepped through the door to Brett Hardy's home, I was greeted by the sight of him in his kitchen, a short distance away. He was pouring two glasses of whisky on the rocks and the moment he saw I’d come in, he picked one up and offered it to me. “Glad you finally decided to stop skulking around out there.” He said plainly, “It’s high time that you and I talked like men.” “I wasn’t of the impression you were open to talking.” I replied. “Why wouldn’t I be?” He’d asked, before gesturing to the couch in his living room. I’d taken the seat and watched as he’d sank into an armchair across from me. ​ “You know, despite being rivals, I really do admire you, Martin. I think that you and I could’ve accomplished a lot together. We still could, if you’d like to give it a chance.” He said. “You’re running against me. I don’t really see how we’d cooperate.” I’d replied. “You don’t yet… But you will…” Hardy said, “How’s Jack Pollock doing? I presume he let you know that he’s not working for you anymore.” ​ “He did… And if you don’t mind me asking, just what the hell did you say to him?” “I didn’t say anything.” Hardy assured me, “Pollocks a good detective. He saw what there was to see and he made that choice of his own volition. I imagine that he’ll be leaving town soon if he hasn’t already. It’s a shame… I liked him.” “Leaving town?” I asked, “Why?” “Not everyone handles truth particularly well.” Hardy said, “We’ll see how you handle it soon enough… I presume that’s why you’ve been following me. To find some sort of shocking truth about me. Something to sway the voters back to your side, or better yet get me to drop out of the race entirely.” ​ “That would be ideal, yes.” I admitted. No point in lying about it. “So tell me… Just what’s it gonna take to make you… Reconsider your candidacy?” “Nothing that you’ve got.” Hardy replied, “You see, you and I are two very similar people… We’re both looking for a bit of power. And in time, we’ll use that power to go even further. Maybe if we make it far enough we could even have a shot at the presidency one day. Who really knows.” ​ “So that’s your end goal, huh? You wanna be President?” “I want to go as far as I can. Isn’t that what most people want?” He asked, “Although… I will admit, I might just have an easier time with it than most people would.” I raised an eyebrow. “And just why is that?” I asked. “Because I’m not Brett Hardy.” ​ Hardy smiled, before reaching up and removing his bowler hat. And as I saw what was underneath, I felt my stomach turn in revulsion. With the hat gone, I could now see what it had been hiding… A jagged, bloodless hole in the top of his head. It looked like part of his skull had been entirely removed… And what was inside… Dear lord… ​ I could see something pale and chitinous inside. I could see insectoid claws reaching out of the hole in his skull as something unfurled itself slightly from the depths of his head. Hardy just smiled as the bug revealed itself… And though his eyes seemed dead, the black, compound eyes of the pale grub that seemed to peer out of the hole in his skull were very much alive. ​ *“So nice to finally get a chance to speak face to face…”* Hardy said, his voice as calm as ever. I pressed myself into the sofa, my eyes widening in disgust as Hardy took a sip of his drink. His body still moved like normal… Although the more I looked into his eyes, the deader and glassier they looked. “Jesus Christ… What the hell are you?” I demanded. *“Just a concerned citizen.”* Was the reply, *“One with very big plans… Plans that I really can’t have you standing in the way of.”* Something told me I didn’t want to know just what the hell those plans entailed… But I couldn’t stop myself from asking. “What are you gonna do?” I asked. *“You’ll find out… Sooner rather than later. You came here looking for a secret. Were Brett Hardy still alive, you’d find none. He was not the most interesting man… But he’s made an excellent host. Perhaps you’ll be an even better one…”* ​ My heart seized in my chest as I realized what the bug was saying. Hardy's body rose to its feet, still holding the glass of whisky. His lips curled into a knowing smile. *“See Martin… You can’t beat me. You might beat Hardy. But you’ll never beat me. One way or another, I’m going to win. So let’s talk about how you and I can work together…”* ​ As he took a step toward me, I grabbed for my holstered pistol. As I pulled the gun free, I saw Hardy's eyes widen. The bug slithered back into the hole in his skull the moment before I pulled the trigger. The first shot left a hole in Hardy's cheek. The second went through his throat… The last two went through his chest. He collapsed backward onto the ground and as he died, I saw that pale white shape crawling out of the hole in his skull. ​ The bug. ​ Good God… It was so much longer than I’d thought… It skittered away on countless legs and I blindly shot at it. I know that I missed. It quickly vanished under his chair and I kept my gun aimed at the spot where it had been just a few moments before. ​ My hands shook as I fired three more rounds into the chair, hoping to God I’d hit that horrible thing… But I didn’t know for sure. With my legs shaking, I stumbled backward as I made my way back to the door. ​ I thought I saw a flash of white near the chair and fired two more shots before scrambling towards Hardy's door and bursting out onto the street again. I didn’t stop running until I made it to the car, and when I was safely inside I locked the doors tight and hit the gas, speeding away as fast as I could. I didn’t dare look back… Not even once. ​ A neighbor found Hardy’s body earlier this evening. Someone else said that they saw a man fleeing the scene. I don’t know how long it’s gonna take before the police find me… But I know they probably will. And when they do, I don’t know if they’re going to buy that Hardy’d already had that hole in his head when I’d arrived. ​ Maybe I can claim self defense… Maybe… But I don’t know about my chances. Really, right now it ain’t the prospect of going to prison for a murder that scares me. Right now… What scares me is the fact that I don’t know if I actually killed that thing that’d been in Hardys head or not. ​ If I did and they find the body, then just maybe I’ve got a chance to come out of this. But if I didn’t… God only knows where it is now. ​ God only knows what it’s planning. ​ *“You can’t beat me. You might beat Hardy. But you’ll never beat me. One way or another, I’m going to win…”* ​ That’s what it said to me. And I can still recall the absolute conviction in its voice. It didn’t just believe what it was saying. It knew it was true… And the thing is… I can’t deny that it was probably right. ​ Maybe I wasn’t the best mayor Hanover ever had… But I’ve got a feeling that whatevers coming next is going to be a whole hell of a lot [worse.](https://www.reddit.com/r/HeadOfSpectre/)

I've started growing my own veggies at home and now I fear for my life

xvj4v9

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xvj4v9/ive_started_growing_my_own_veggies_at_home_and/

This year I’ve decided to try something different and picked up a new hobby - home gardening. If you don’t know what that is - it’s, basically, trying to grow some veggies or herbs for consumption within the space of your apartment. After reading tons of articles, reddit posts and watching a countless number of videos on YouTube - I was prepared. ​ Ordered some pots and trays, soil and seeds, watering systems and lights - a pretty expensive thing to try out, if you ask me. My girlfriend didn’t share my excitement at first, stating that I have troubles with taking care of myself already, and that those poor plants are doomed since day one. But after I’ve arranged everything around nicely and began taking care of my new neighbors - she finally recognized that spark of interest in my eyes and started to support it, checking on progress with me, sprinkling and all that stuff. ​ I’ve picked up cherry tomatoes, some dill and parsley for my first attempt at growing something, as guides promised those were extremely easy to take care of. I was worried through first two weeks, as nothing showed up from the soil and at some point I started questioning my actions: what if I picked the wrong brand or used too much water? What if the nutrients were too active and sorta killed the seeds? ​ Nevertheless, after two and a half weeks - the sprouts showed up. It was quite an excitement, for me, the guy who never done this before. Jane was impressed too and shared the mood. ​ I’ll cut to the point though, as I believe, not everyone finds description of slowly growing plants amusing. ​ Couple of months later we had several grown up tomato plants, some dill and, unfortunately, not a single parsley bush. Something went wrong there. But, anyways, things turned out nicely. ​ Tomatoes bloomed already and tiny green spheres of future fruits emerged here and there on the branches. The dill got really big at some point, so I had to cut it here and there, as I’ve read, that when it gets thick - it becomes somewhat bitter and hardly used as intended. ​ Surprise came unexpectedly. One morning, as I was making coffee in the kitchen as Jane called from the room: “Hey, Jake, check this out. This one looks like a face!”. ​ I went to see what she was all about and indeed, one of the tomato fruits resembled a human head - you could clearly see brow ridges, a fold in shape of open jaws and some bump that looked like a nose. ​ Have you heard of all those cases of “divine presence”, when people saw Jesus or Holy Mary on piece of a toast or in a cloud shaped weirdly? Well, I was not that type of guy, so I just expressed my surprise and said something like: “Well, the pets always resemble of their masters, right?”. We had a laugh and that was it. ​ Couple of days later we made another discovery, not just that single tomato looked like a human face - each one of them did. Tiny vegetable screaming faces. ​ “Well, that must be one of those decorative species, if you ask me” - Jane said - “You know, like butterfly orchids, or those heart shaped strawberries.” ​ “Yeah, that must be it.” - I’ve replied - “Though I’m pretty sure I’ve ordered basic cherry tomato seeds. They must have messed up something when packing”. By the end of the month we got the first harvest - a bowl of tiny face-resembling red tomatoes, not bigger than a thumb nail. ​ I couldn’t think how to use them better than in a salad, so I’ve cut and mixed them with some lettuce, olive oil and sesame seeds. It was fantastic. Tomatoes were so rich in taste and aroma. All the greenhouse ones they grow for sale are absolutely no match. ​ I was excited, proud and making plans for my future batches. ​ Strange things started to happen next, as we went to bed. ​ No, no. We didn’t get any food poisoning or anything like that. Vice versa - I slept as if I was hit with a log. Though Jane gave me creeps. I woke up suddenly around 5:00 in the morning due to her shivering and moaning in her sleep. So I’ve gently shook her shoulder: “Hey, are you ok?”. ​ She opened her eyes, returning back to reality, took a moment to gather her thoughts and said: “I just had the weirdest dream ever. It was as if I was buried alive and somebody kept throwing shovel after shovel of earth above the pile I was under. So frigging scary…” ​ I comforted her and soon we went back to sleep again. No more incidents that night. ​ Though the next night it happened again. To both of us this time. ​ I saw a dream, where I was lying in the dirt, being able to see just my torso and feet sticking up. It seemed I was a little boy. It was hard to breath and something bubbled in my lungs each time I’ve tried to inhale. To make it worse - somebody behind my field of view dropped earth on top of me. I've been buried alive. That moment I felt really vulnerable and unable to do a single thing. Even raising a finger was an impossible task. ​ I woke up in cold sweat. So did Jane. We looked each other in the eye for a moment, and started to share the horror interrupting each other. ​ What could possibly cause this? Were we experiencing too much stress lately? Maybe some horror movie we saw earlier decided to hit back hard? ​ This continued for couple of nights straight. Sleeping pills and chamomile tea did no difference. We had our torture returning to us every night. ​ So one day we just sat down and discussed the potential cause of this. (You’d rather ask - why not go to the therapy or sleep disorder specialist, in the first place? Well, none of us had medical insurance, and before throwing away money for this purpose - we decided to try figuring it out on our own). ​ We never thought about this before, but the thing started right after we had those tomatoes in the salad. “Think for yourself, those look like screaming heads - and what do you do in your dreams? You want to scream. You want somebody to save you, right? Look, Jake, I don’t believe in all that ghost monster spooky shit, you know me. But here, my intuition just going boinks.”. ​ “Yeah, but… So we have a handful of cherries and now they pollute our sleep? That just sounds ridiculous.” - I’ve replied. ​ “I don’t know. Maybe it’s the fertilizer you’ve used. Is it toxic? Maybe you washed them not properly? I don’t know what to think” - she continued. ​ “Fine, fine. I’ll check everything. And if nothing would be off - we’re going to hospital” - I’ve replied. ​ So then I went through my order and checked every single piece of equipment and each expendable material I had in it. ​ I’ve even checked if the pots were made of proper plastic and that it couldn’t spread any chemicals ending up in plants. ​ The fertilizers were certified and guaranteed not to contain anything that could harm humans, animals or other plants. ​ There was definitely nothing wrong with my tap water, or we would feel the symptoms much earlier. ​ So by the end of the day I sent two emails: one with questions to the company that provided seeds and the other - to the provider of the plant soil. ​ Surprisingly, after another cycle of nightmares - I had two responses in the inbox. ​ First one read: “Dear Jake, thank you very much for entrusting us to provide you our product. We can ensure you, that we always deliver top quality seeds for our customers. I’ve checked the order number you’ve sent in and can confirm that we sent you a 3-pack of cherry tomato seeds, so no mistakes were made. Hope this answers your question. (And so on, and so on). ​ The second one, though, was bit more interesting: ​ “Hello Jake. We are truly sorry to hear you are having problem with our product. —skipping some lines on how good they actually are, and how they care about their quality— We’ve tracked the batch of your delivered goods and will be running an inspection on the corresponding excavation site, to make sure our packed soil is of highest standard possible. (and so on and so forth)“ ​ That was… interesting. Not amusing though, so I talked to Jane and we booked the doctor’s visit by the end of the week, as I had no other clues or ideas on what was possibly wrong. ​ Couple of days later, we were having some dinner, watching our favorite show on TV, when suddenly the program was interrupted by breaking news. It was a live report from what seemed like a forest area - I didn’t recognize the scenery, even though the news were local. The reporter, who was standing in front of police barrier tape proclaimed: “After numerous reports of faulty product distribution, Bloom Ltd. ran a sudden unscheduled inspection on one of the sites ,where they usually obtain the source for their production. Though a check up suddenly turned into the nightmare for Tim Little, the inspector. Tim?” ​ The camera turned to a pale man, who was visually shaking under police blanket. He was in his thirties, starting to bald already. ​ “Yes… I was taking the.. The samples for my examination, you know.. And then… Then.. Jesus Christ… I saw her… God…”. ​ The guy looked really shocked, and reporter took back the initiative. ​ “Multiple remains were discovered so far and the police is working on the site. If you possess any information or seen anything suspicious in the area of…” ​ I was shocked. Jane looked like she was slapped in the face. ​ We didn’t go to the doctor. After the news came to the public - our nightmares just vanished. ​ A bit later we discovered that 17 bodies were found on the site, scattered around the forest clearing, where the company, I’ve ordered from, tended to pick source for their produce. It was a complete mess and our town exploded - men, women, even children were found in that improvised grave. The most horrible fact that went to public through a drunk talk between some police officer and a local bartender was that most of those poor people were drugged and buried alive. ​ No connections between victims, no certain patterns, no clues. ​ The whole town is terrified. Nobody wants to walk outside when it’s dark. Police is patrolling, but people are still scared. And I admit it - I am afraid too. I’ve already went through this in my sleep several times, I don’t want it to happen for real. ​ I’ve checked on my tomatoes recently. Those are green and healthy. What bothers me though - the second batch of fruits coming up. And I’m afraid I still can see the screaming faces.

There's something weird about the old house where I live

xv0j2n

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xv0j2n/theres_something_weird_about_the_old_house_where/

I was always alone. My parents kicked me out as soon as I turned 18. The rest of my family lived across the world. I didn't have many friends. Long story short, I wasn't loved. Most of my time I spent aimlessly wandering around my town, hoping that somebody would come for me. It never happened. There was this house, though, that I always felt drawn to. It was abandoned, looked like it had been for quite some time. Vines were crawling across the exterior, the windows were boarded up, and the paint was chipping away. I never explored it, mainly because it didn't look safe. But as I walked by it one very late night, I realized even if it was unsafe, and I died in it, nobody would care. They wouldn't even go looking for me. "Hey, what the hell." I muttered to myself. "I might as well." As I approached the front door, it creaked open by itself. The inside was musty and covered in dust, but not nearly as broken-down as it was on the outside. I was just about to enter when I heard something strange. A piano playing. And right by the piano, a strange shadow getting larger and larger as it slithered towards me. I stepped back in shock. It was some...thing. It had tentacles in place of arms, and it's smile was sharp and yellow, unnaturally large. It's eyes resembled a snake's more than it did a human's. It held out a tentacle towards me. "Come. Stay. You'll love it here." It's cold tentacle wrapped around my arm and pulled me into the house, where the door slammed behind me. It dragged me towards a table, where dozens of other creatures sat. Something with nothing but a gaping black hole for a mouth and eyes drooled beside me. A monster with pale skin and no pupils grinned at me. An octopus looking creature in a droopy chef's hat walked towards the table, a grand plate of disgusting looking entrees in his tentacles. "Dig in" The tentacle creature said, that same wide grin staring at me. "What- what is... who are you?" I asked. The tentacle creature laughed. "Oh, foolish one. Look at us. We were just like you once. Outcast. Alone. Nowhere to go. Until we found this house. Stay awhile. You'll be like us in no time." It hissed. "I will never be like you!" I yelled, and ran towards the door, but it didn't open no matter how hard I pushed. The creature with white eyes grabbed me and dragged me upstairs, into a room with a single, mouldy looking bed. "Rest, young one. You have lots ahead of you." It smiled, and I could see the bugs in it's teeth. "Let me go home. Please." It shook it's head. "You cannot leave. I cannot leave, even if I wanted to. This is your home now, as it is mine." "I am not like you." I said, tears in my eyes. "This is your home, not mine." The creature laughed a wheezy, throaty laugh. "What makes you think I am not like you, young one?" "I'm a human. You're just some... some thing." I said. It sighed. "I was a human once." It reached into it's dirty shirt pocket, and pulled out a picture. It took me a while, but as I looked at it, the resemblance was there, and it became clearer to me that it was, in fact, that monster. "This was me. I was alone, like you. I had nowhere to turn but this house. I hated it, just like you. But as time went on, I found myself more at home. It changed me. You don't have to love it right away, young one, but trust me. This is where you are meant to be. Just, give it a try, okay?" He said, and walked out. I sat on the disgusting bed, processing everything. *Just, give it a try, okay?* Slowly, I lied down on the bed, and to my surprise, it was comfortable. To be fair, my bed at home was just an air mattress lying on my kitchen floor, but this was like nothing before. I fell asleep in an instant, and I had a thought that maybe this wasn't going to be so bad after all. The next morning as I woke up, I looked different. Not too different, just enough for me to notice. My skin was paler, and my arms were veinier. My hair looked more matted, and when I smiled to myself in the mirror, I couldn't help but notice it looked similar to the tentacle monster's. As time went on, I felt more and more like them. Things I used to be disgusted by became hobbies of mine, and things that I used to fear made me smile a wide smile like everybody else. I barely noticed any changes in me until about a week later. Were my teeth sharper, or was I just crazy. I just shook that thought off. But as time went on, the used to things I got. I felt at home finally. This was home, where I could find joy in tearing a live rat's head off and drinking its' blood, or where I could eat live bugs whenever I so desired. This was meant to be. I was turning into the man I was supposed to be. The tentacle monster, who I now recognized as the most esteemed of gentlemen, smiled at me one day. "Ah, brother, you have become one with us. A true monster." Monster? Who was he calling monster? I was no... I looked in the mirror, and saw myself. My skin was now completely white. My fingers were long and sharp at the end. My eyes turned yellow like a cats'. My hair had fallen off. I was one of them. One day, as I was lounging by the piano, I heard the door creak open. A young man, maybe about my age, looked around. "H-hello? Hello!" He called. I crawled towards him, eager to make a new friend. He jumped back at the sight of me. I flashed him my nicest, most gentleman-like smile. I reached out my hand to him. "Come. Stay. You'll love it here.

I Heard Clicking At Night

xv7v2y

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xv7v2y/i_heard_clicking_at_night/

I am writing this as a warning or perhaps even a survival guide. You do not need to believe me; I know this will probably sound like some scary story you make up at a bonfire anyway, but I am writing this for whomever may find themself as I had. My name is Logan Winters, and I will be turning twenty next week. I attend the University of Michigan Tech which, for those who do not know, is in the upper peninsula of Michigan. During my first month of school, I heard it. I can remember the first time I heard it vividly, though the day it happened has escaped my memory. I was making my way back from a friend’s place. We had met each other in a board game club, and now we were frequent visitors of one another. For the sake of his anonymity, we will call him Austin. After getting back to my room, I sat at my desk, opened my window, and got working. I certainly was not used to my homework load yet, but I had found it easy to focus late at night with the cold air blowing against me. It was then I heard it. *Click… Click… Tap- click… Tap- click- click… Click…* At first, it startled me. The sound seemed to have no rhyme or reason to its rhythm, but instead it merely swayed as if the wind was guiding it. I have tried so many methods to replicate the sound of the click, and this is the best way I have been able to describe it. Try to create a clicking sound with your tongue. You will notice that your tongue rolls behind your bottom teeth before popping up. Now, press down on your tongue with the roof of your mouth and slide the tongue back while trying to make the same clicking sound. It almost sounds like the squeal of a pig being slaughtered before popping into a singular click. This was the sound, though much more resonant. It tended to be accompanied by taps, which resembled fingers tapping against glass. I investigated the sound, but I could not find a source. The clicking was most certainly from outside as it sounded distant, but the tapping seemed to be echoing from my very room. The clicking would seemingly vanish for an indeterminate amount of time before returning again. I attempted to ignore it and focus, but it seemed to only get louder as the night went on. Eventually, I closed my window and tried to go to bed, thinking it would be gone when I woke up. My imagination had admittedly gotten me worked up slightly, but I stayed calm and reasoned that it was likely just some piece of machinery making the noise outside the dorm. As I laid there in my bed I found that the sound seemed to continue to get louder. I hugged my blanket tightly, praying for another moment of clarity when the sound would fade. After some time it did, and I closed my eyes hoping to sleep well finally. However, when the sound came back, I sighed. Was I going to get any sleep tonight? I opened my eyes, and my entire body immediately went cold. I saw it at the window. Its long body seemed to blend in with the darkness outside, but what I could clearly make out was its pure white face. It had two small black voids for eyes, and a mouth that went from one side of its face to the other. It seemed to have a permanent smile, and stared directly at me. It had no hair, nor eyes, or any other discernible human-like characteristics. I was stiff as a board, not daring to move. I could not even look away. Then, its head began to rotate. It moved its head in quick jolts, spinning it counter clockwise from its chin to its forehead. As it moved, it seemed to stop at set places, causing the clicks as it did so. I stared in horror as it did this, not letting its gaze leave me for a second. As its mouth arrived at the top of its head, it suddenly stopped. I watched as its mouth, now resembling a frown, seemed to slowly open. A part of me expected rows of sharp teeth, but what I got was worse. It was nothing. Its mouth opened into a black void of nothingness that seemed to consume all light that touched it. I screamed in horror, but then I awoke in a cold sweat. Had it all been a dream? That was the only logical explanation, but I could not bring myself to believe that. I noticed I was about to be late for my first class of the day, so I grabbed my stuff and went running without giving the dream any more thought. I told myself over and over that I had simply had a terrible nightmare, but deep inside me I felt that there was more. However, I could not dwell on it, so I continued with my day to day life. It was a few days later when I heard it again. I had been hungry while studying late at night and decided to get McDonald’s since there was one not too far from my dorm and they were open 24/7. I was walking back when I heard it. *Click- click… Tap. Click… Click. Click. Click- tap- click…* My entire body immediately froze. I felt myself go pale as my face went hot. I could see the light of my dorm not too far away, but did I dare move? My eyes scanned left to right, but I did not move my head. I saw nothing but the large pines around me. I decided to run. I ran forward as fast as I could to my dorm, not daring to look around me. After arriving in the safety of my dorm, the sound seemed to fade away. Had I imagined it again? Perhaps I was simply tired. I already knew that all of this late night studying was not good for me. Reluctantly I decided not to investigate the matter any further, partly out of reason and partly out of fear. Once again I went to bed, but this time when I woke up the clicking did not stop. I could hear it all the time. It would still continue its trend of having random starts and stops, but it now echoed in my ears all day and night. I tried to ignore it, but my anxiety was immense. Often when it was really loud I would lock myself in my bathroom and have panic attacks. I could not focus on school; I could not talk to people; I could do nothing. Eventually I stopped attending classes and my extracurricular activities. The clicking no longer seemed distant, but it felt as if it was coming from inside me. I would sometimes pass out when the sounds were too loud and then wake up covered in cuts. Was I going insane? Hope came through a knock at my door. It was Austin. We talked for some time, and he comforted me. He had been worried after I stopped attending the club and did not respond to any of his text messages. He noted that I had grown significantly slimmer and was rather pale. Perhaps I was desperate or maybe I just wanted someone to comfort me, but I decided to tell Austin about the clicking. I left my dream out, but I told him that the sound haunted me. He was surprisingly understanding, and he offered to help me find professional help. Maybe I really was going schizophrenic. I accepted his offer; I would do anything to make the sounds stop. Soon I began to meet with a professional once a week, and they tried to consult me on how to make the sounds go away. I tried everything, and even began searching up resources on the internet, but nothing had a lasting effect. Finally, Austin texted me with an idea. He had been planning to go backpacking for a while, and he decided that going together might help me. One of the running theories that my counselor had was that the sound was caused by stress, so disassociating from the busyness of college could help. I agreed, and within three days we were driving to the middle of nowhere. We wasted no time. After parking off some dirt road that Austin said he frequented as a teenager, we began to head deep into the woods. Austin had much more experience in backpacking than I, so I gladly let him lead the way. The forest was almost tranquil, and before I knew it I had forgotten about the clicking and now only focused on cracking jokes as we walked. As night came over the horizon, Austin and I set up camp. He got a campfire going, and we both roasted brats over it as we talked. We had been talking until the late hours of the night, and finally I could tell we both were getting tired. I offered to put away everything for Austin, but he insisted that I get shut-eye first. We playfully bickered about who should do what, but that was disturbed when a sound echoed through the forest, a woman’s scream. Austin and I both looked around, but we could not see any lights in the distance. The scream had come from behind me and sounded distant. I looked back at Austin and then down at my phone, thinking to call the police. I was about to dial 911 when I heard it. *Click… Click… Tap-click… Click… Click-tap… Tap-tap-tap-click… Click. Click…* I froze. Perhaps I was more afraid than usual because of my brief moment of respite. I looked up at Austin and was horrified to see his blank stare. He was looking at something directly behind me. His body was pale and his hand slowly began to reach for the hatchet he had on the ground next to him. My entire body began to shake; I already knew the truth, yet I wanted to imagine that if I just closed my eyes it would all be inside my head. Somehow, I found the strength to move. I suddenly jumped forward, rolling beside the fire as I looked back. There it was, its slim body seeming to dangle from the trees directly above where I had been sitting. Its face was still as I remembered, and I was horrified as it stood completely still. I looked at Austin, who had gotten his hatchet, and then back at the creature. The flames of the fire sparked upwards, and they revealed something that had been hidden in the darkness. Dangling from the creature’s black body was a singular human leg that seemed to connect into the rest of the creature’s body. The creature suddenly clicked, and its head jolted counter clockwise. As it moved into place, I heard something snap, and blood began to pour out from the edges of the creature’s white face. The human leg suddenly jolted from the body before hanging limply once again. Austin suddenly lunged forward and struck at the creature. He attempted to strike it in the head, but the creature suddenly opened its mouth so widely that the entire head practically became a void of nothingness, and consumed the hatchet. Austin stumbled back as the creature closed its mouth and looked at him before clicking its head once more. I felt hopelessness build inside me once more, but managed to garner the courage to act. I kicked the campfire, sending burning pieces of wood towards the creature. It suddenly reclined, and what I heard was chilling. As fire caught onto the white face of the creature, it retreated into the woods, and began to let out a putrid scream. It sounded like that of the woman from earlier, but it sounded as if she was gurgling through a liquid. The sound grew distant at a horrifying rate; just how fast was that thing? The fire ended up spreading. We called the police and told them that shortly after we had heard a woman scream while backpacking, a wild animal had attacked us and knocked into our campfire. Somehow, they believed it. The fire was eventually contained, and the story given by the cops was that the woman was killed by a black bear that was causing havoc in the forest. Austin and I both agreed to never tell anyone the truth, but I feel like I have to share this. If you hear clicking at night, you are not going insane. If you hear clicking at night, you are not going insane. I do not know why that thing did not kill me, but I am not going to take this chance for granted. If it finds you, do not succumb to madness, or you may end up like it. I only hope that you are able to find this post and find a way to survive.

The Farm (Part 1)

xvipg3

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xvipg3/the_farm_part_1/

Hello everyone. My name is Gary and I’m a recently retired Police officer from a town in the North of England. I joined the force (as it was called then) as a 21-year-old in 1983. Worked 6 years in uniform then made detective in 1989. I was the youngest detective in the locality at that point. I’m not saying whether I believe in the supernatural or not. I’m honestly agnostic about the whole thing, but certainly hedge to rational and scientific solutions to problems as a rule. Here are some of the strangest and saddest things I came across in nearly 40 years’ service. Some have no explanations, some have obvious (but still very weird or disturbing) ones. Before I start this, there’s just a bit of background. The town I worked in is a poor, former industrial town in the North of the country. The area of focus for me was large council estate that Police force personnel would refer to as the “Bermuda Triangle” given the amount mysteries that emerged from there over the decades. Half the estate was completed in the 1940s after the War and made up about 600 houses. The newer part of the estate was built between the mid-60s and mid-70s and made up about a thousand (inferior quality it must be said) such homes. The estate was known to locals as “The Farm”. As the name suggests, it was built on a huge expanse of farmland and was still surrounded by woodland on one side and an area colloquially known as “the Scar” on the opposite side. The Scar was a patch of downward-sloped land about a square mile in size – mostly rough foliage and trees, cut through by a railway line and gravelly paths for dog walkers …it wasn’t a place you’d want to walk around after dark and a couple of very serious crimes took place on there in my tenure as that part of town’s go-to detective. (Maybe get into those later). In the early 80s, The Farm was a bit like the Wild West. The estate was populated to the brim and low-level crime was an absolute constant. The place was poor. Built to serve industries that now hardly existed in England (steel, textiles, etc) and unfortunately had become a kind of social dumping ground. However, as with anywhere, there was still a rump of good and incredibly house-proud people. Since the early 90s the estate had been in decline. It was probably 70% populated, with entire streets becoming empty at the bottom end of the estate in particular (backing on to the Scar). The local authorities had started scheduling parts of the new side of The Farm for destruction only 20 years after they were built. The local Mayor (a good man) was terrified of what he called “poverty cycles”. I.e., that kids born to the roughest quarters would never escape the poor circumstances bequeathed to them. Anyway, I digress, here goes: **1989** After making Detective, I was assigned to shadow a superior colleague for 12 months. Derek. I really liked Derek. He was in his late 50s by that point. He was a real, what I would call, old school academic detective. He wasn’t too popular with uniform, or his own superiors, for that matter, mainly owed to an aloof and slightly holier-than-thou nature. But he was highly articulate, off-the-scale intelligent, with a photographic memory and simply never forgot a time or place. He took me under his wing straight away. About 2 months into the job, a wet Thursday evening in October 1989, he takes me for a beer at his favourite dive bar and tells me about this case he had back in ’64, when he was a young detective in his early 30s. I’ll hand over to Derek, as I recall it in my memories: “A woman from The Farm in her late-50s had called into the station to complain that a child had gone missing. She lived adjacent to a large family, just across a patch of grass from them, and her contention was that a girl of about 6/7 years old, whom she believed was called Catherine/Katherine, had simply walked off the face of the Earth. There was a problem back then with some of the very poorest and most socially outcast families simply not registering their kids as being born or sending them to school when they hit 5 years old… or at all. What would happen is, a home birth in what is already a poor family takes place, then the parents would just raise the child (in a neglectful fashion) without ever registering said birth with the designated authorities. I knew authority workers who would enter homes and find 7-year-olds who simply didn’t legally exist and should have been at school by that age. It wasn’t an everyday thing, but it happened too often. The caller (we’ll call her ‘Edith’) was adamant that this was such a case, and that the child had now been missing for a year. Edith was a real, and I mean profound, curtain twitcher. She even made notes of people’s comings and goings in the street, and although I can’t say I exactly approve of that, it did lend credibility to her accusation. The family in question was a living, breathing nightmare. An absolute sinkhole of neglect and depravity. 12 kids, degenerate alcoholic-gambler Father. The council had knocked through two homes together to form 1 home to house them.” Derek said the house was like nothing he’d seen or even imagined about the worst of, say, Victorian London. He continues …”Perhaps I should have been more careful given the implied nature of the accusation (kidnapping, imprisonment, or murder) but I find Edith to be highly credible given the depth of detail she can go into. Describing the kid as ginger haired, pale blue eyes. Almost always wearing the same blue material dress and holding a large plastic doll. After checks with the registrar and local schools showed Catherine to not exist, I decide to go right off the bat. I take a uniformed officer with me, we knock on the door and basically demand to be let in immediately. The house has a stench of dark age poverty. It’s beyond horrific. Dad is out somewhere. There are probably 8 kids sat at different locations on the floor in the downstairs of the property. Mum, a battered (literally and figuratively) woman of 45 or so, takes us into their filthy kitchen to talk. I don’t waste time - “”Where’s Catherine, we’re here to see Catherine”” I snap at her. I watch the blood drain out of her face before my very own eyes. She stammers and stutters a non-response. “Where?”, I repeat, even more firmly. I watch her shift gear as clear as day, and straight into what I call parrot mode. “You mean my Sister Catherine, she’s over in Ireland” she says with a nervous laugh yet traumatised expression. She denies ever having had a daughter by this name. The lies, and deflections pass through her feeble mind and out of her mouth in obviously rehearsed fashion. I understand perfectly what is going on at this point. I know 100% there and then the kid has been killed, by accident or otherwise, or passed to another family member, or sold into de facto slavery, and this is a staged cover up. It may sound strange here and now that I’d jump to these wild conclusions, but I know this as sure as I know my own name. It’s not even the first case I’ve been made aware of where any of these things have happened. I also know that I have no real evidence of anything, and this is going to be a long and painful process to get someone to crack. What kills me to this day is that despite being certain something was badly off, we never did. They just did not fold. We had both parents down the station. Dad was halfway to demented through alcohol abuse and had the IQ of a 10-year-old. For a year we pressed them. The kids just gave stupefied silences when asked questions. The shrugging of shoulders or outright denials. It really woke me up about how evil can work and propagate itself, dealing with all this. The more immediate neighbours were no real help either, all elderly, to them, it was just a sea of children running around causing havoc in the summer, then mostly disappearing indoors in the Winter. The one lead we had was another relatively elderly woman who lived 3 doors down at the end of the block, Francis. She, when questioned, did remember Catherine and recalled Edith’s description as absolutely correct. She herself had a 9-year-old granddaughter at that point, who would often stay in the summer holidays, and seems to remember Catherine playing with her and may have even come into her house on occasion. Said Granddaughter and her parents had moved to Canada the year before and getting a hold of anyone was proving impossible. She couldn’t firmly recall any further details, and her testament would surely be crushed in court by any half decent defence lawyer. We had next to nothing, but I really believed Edith (who by now was calling into the Station in person on a weekly basis to speak with me) and knew without any shadow of doubt that the family was lying to me. In 1973, the Dad finally meets his maker, steps out of a pub hammered drunk, directly in front of a bus. Fin! Mum dies in ’87. But this bit really, really gets me. When she passed all the kids had flown the nest (there were 14 by this point) and a fumigation team was sent into clean the house. The guys whose day jobs are sewers and industrial accidents. Yes, those guys! And one of them finds a biscuit tin right at the back under the sink that’s full of random artefacts and passes it to us. One of the old pictures in there looks like it was taken in the 60s and I knew immediately that Catherine was stood there right in this picture, as clear as day. The picture is black and white but is clear enough to make the shades of her lightly coloured hair and eyes, it was taken literally on the doorstep to the property, didn’t match to any of the other children. And she looked exactly how Edith had described and how I imagined her to. It was taken on an old camera that belonged to the woman at the end of her block – Francis - and it was Catherine with Francis’ Granddaughter, the one who’d subsequently moved to Canada. I showed the picture to a then very old and quite poorly Edith who now lived in a nursing home, she looked at me and nodded firmly but tearfully the absolutely split-second she saw it, without any prompt whatsoever. The early and obviously insufficient searches we’d made back in the day yielded nothing. The tin was probably 3 feet from my leg as I’d stood in that kitchen back in ’64.” **1993** Back in ’93 a woman (Cheryl, we’ll call her) was a single Mum living with her 2 Daughters aged 10 and 15 on The Farm. Cheryl had problems – money (as did more than half the estate), booze and some general lifestyle excesses. But was generally, despite some social service involvement, regarded as a half-capable Mother. Her kids never went hungry, and both were doing decently well at school. One Friday morning in November they get up to go to school and Mum isn’t in bed. The kids would usually get themselves up, make their own breakfasts and go to school. The younger girl’s primary school was only 5 minutes’ walk and the elder kid’s high school was a 10-minute bus ride. They each make their breakfast, eat it up, get their school gear ready and shout up to their Mum that they’re setting off. No answer. OK, occasionally Mum would go out for a few drinks the night before leaving her a bit of a hangover, but she’d always mumble something. But nothing! Eldest goes upstairs and the bed is empty. Not slept in, freshly made. No hint Mum was there at all. Clothes still in the wardrobes, affects still dotted around the room. They’d last seen her at about 9pm the previous evening when the kids went to bed. (Remember, Bermuda Triangle! This is the case that gave The Farm that name). We never found her! Within half an hour of the kids going next door to call the police there were 3 uniforms and 2 detectives including me at the front of the house. 6 hours later there were 12 of us. The weird thing about this was despite never encountering this kind of missing person case previously, I knew deep down we weren’t going to find her. Despite all the most basic deductions telling us she no doubt went out when the kids were in bed, maybe met a guy and went back to his house, something like that, I just knew in my bones somehow it was more serious. I bet we interviewed 500 people in the next few days. Neighbours, shop workers, pub landlords and regulars at every single place in town she’d ever visited. Nothing for the night in question, absolute dead ends. We had dogs in a formation attempting to track her across the whole estate, surrounding woodland and the Scar. No sign of her! (We can get into what we did find later, totally disconnected from this case). The investigation just cools off after 6 months or so. You’re just left with a feeling of helpless malaise in this kind of case. However, what came next, I will never forget or work out fully: The Summer of 1994 a local man calls the station and asks to come down for a chat. I’m given the heads up to meet him. Let’s call him “Tim”. Tim went to school with Cheryl. They weren’t close friends or anything but did share a few classes and they’d bumped into each other a few times as adults over the years. Tim’s second cousin was actually her kids’ Father, although Tim wasn’t aware of that at the time. Tim had been on holiday to Bulgaria with his whole family - parents, kids, grandparents. He says he goes out for stroll alone one evening and goes into a bar for a cheeky drink. He’s sat at a table while football (the USA 1994 World Cup) is on one of the TVs. Sat across in the next booth is Cheryl. Clear as fucking day it’s her. He literally can’t believe his eyes. He takes his glasses off to give them a quick clean before putting them back on but sure as one day follows the next, that is her. He recognises and describes very acute physical features, mole on left cheek, small scar on her nose from a fight back at school. He’s absolutely 100% sure and would stand up in any court in the world and say so. She’s dressed quite ostentatiously and is next to a large, suited man in his 50s. When she catches Tim staring at her she visibly panics. 10 seconds later she whispers into the suited man’s ear and leaves. Tim stands up, shouts her name but she ignores him and heads out in the other direction. Suited man stands up and comes over. Shakes Tim’s hand in a very over the top friendly fashion which also emphasises his physical superiority over Tim. Offers him champagne which Tim refuses, then slopes off out the opposite door himself. Tim isn’t some random nutcase either. He’s one of The Farm’s success stories. Born to single Mum. Worked hard at school and is now working. Married with 3 kids. I believe every word of what he says and he is clearly distressed. How a 33-year-old girl vanishes from her house in Northern England and ends up in Bulgaria is anyone’s guess. The is pre-internet age remember. Broadband and dial-up technically do exist in 1993 but not in this part of the world and not on The Farm. The only hint of a clue I got, maybe 3 years later, was a tip about a barman who worked in a particular pub she occasionally ventured. He’d claimed to people he was Italian because he thought it would score him more women, but the bar owner claims he was from Bulgaria. He apparently went back home sometime around ‘93 after helping himself to cash from the tills. I still have no idea what happened or if this means anything. The only silver lining from this case is the kids went to very nice foster parents and did well for themselves in later life. Thanks all! ​ Edit 1: clarity ​ [Part 2 here](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xx1bmd/the_farm_part_2/)

The Hunter

xvo49n

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xvo49n/the_hunter/

It was mid-November and I was going out to the family cabin for a few days of quiet hunting. My cabin was about 2 hours from the nearest town and was so far out of the way that I couldn’t get all the way there with my truck. I keep an ATV at the nearest cabin about 8 miles from my property. I left my truck on my neighbors property and headed off on the ATV. When I finally arrived, it was about 5:45pm and the sun was making its long trek down the horizon. I took my rifle and checked the immediate area around the cabin, carefully making my way in the door checking for anyone who shouldn’t be there. The place was empty, as usual, and I went about setting up lanterns and starting a fire in the wood burning stove. It was freezing cold and all I could think about was getting the place heated up. I unloaded my gear and began preparing to spend the next day hunting in the surrounding wilderness when I heard a noise from outside. You get used to the sounds of wildlife in the woods and after a while you usually don’t even notice much of it. But this was different. It was a heavy thud, followed by a soft metallic scraping. I got uneasy because there are no roads up here, there are game trails but many are overgrown and wind in a maze through the forest. I grabbed my flashlight and sidearm and carefully went outside. Circling the cabin in growing circles until I was assured that no one was out there. Strange, but I am tired from a long trip and sometimes silence can make you on edge, so I chalked it up to nothing more than me needing a good night’s rest. So I finished getting my pack together, ate some rice and jerky, and went to bed. The next morning I set out at dawn, my plan was to make for a small clearing by the stream where my uncle built a stand in the tree-line. I had been at it a couple of hours when I heard a soft thud. I looked in the direction of the noise, and about 15 meters from where I sat, there was an arrow in the base of a tree. I was super annoyed and shouted out for whoever shot it to show themselves. Our property bumps up to other popular hunting areas and we often have hunters on our land. It usually isn’t a problem, but it infuriated me to have someone shooting off arrows willy-nilly through the clearing for no reason. Kids maybe, or drunks. Putting on the orange vest I brought in my pack, I scrambled down and away, cursing to myself about amateurs. I decided it would be a good time for a cup of coffee and a lunch break, so I went to my favorite spot in the woods and sat on the fallen tree, like so many times before. After boiling my water and steeping the grounds, I sit, eating my rice and sipping my coffee, enjoying the peace, when suddenly I get the eerie feeling that something isn’t right. Goosebumps suddenly run up my arm as I scan my surroundings. Was that arrow there when I arrived? Did I just not notice it? The dark gray shaft and broad, black tip were very familiar. It was the exact same as what I encountered earlier that morning. About 10 meters away. Anxiety gripped me. Was someone following me? Was this a joke? Was that arrow meant for me? I frantically tried to convince myself that I was just being overly dramatic, that it was crazy to think someone was out here hunting me. But still, I couldn’t shake the feeling. I gathered my things and headed back to the cabin, I suddenly found myself in need of a whiskey, and the safety of four walls. After getting warm enough and in the comforts of a good book, I wasn’t thinking too much about what happened, it was surely just a coincidence after all. I closed my eyes and drifted off into a nap. I don’t know how much time passed, but when I suddenly woke up it was dark outside. There was a loud tapping at the window, I was frozen where I was, not able to comprehend what was happening. The tapping stopped, and a few moments of silence before a big bang on the door, so hard that it shook on it’s hinges, I jumped up and shouted “who is it?” while I chambered a round in my rifle. I was answered with a deep silence. Creeping to the door, I unlocked the latch and slowly opened the door to find nothing there. As I slowly walked to the outside of the window, I see the glass had been scraped up and down with something sharp. How long had that tapping noise been happening before I woke up? I fearfully ran back to the door, all I wanted was to have a locked door between me and whatever was here. I ran into the cabin, but before I could even shut the door I noticed it; sitting in the middle of the table, a dark gray arrow with a broad, black tip. My mind spun. Our cabin was small enough to see the whole space from where I was standing, the table, the old sofa, the set of bunk beds and the kitchen area with a few small cabinets; nowhere for someone to hide. I turned quickly to look back out of the door, and that’s when I saw him. A tall man looming just outside the tree line, maybe 15 yards from my door. The moon was bright enough for me to make out the long recurve bow in his hands. I slammed the door shut just in time to hear a heavy thud on the outside. That’s when I remembered the sound from the night before. This man has been messing with me since I arrived! I shouted through the door, “What do you want?!”, but the man didn’t respond. I knew I had to get out of there, but there was no way I was going to make it in the dark, I would have to wait until dawn. Frantically, I pushed everything I could in front of the door and made sure the window was locked and the drapes closed. No sleep was to be had, I huddled in fear all night in the back corner of the cabin with my rifle in my hand, shivering from cold and fear. The same questions kept running through my mind. What does the man want? Is he alone? What will he do to me? Why isn’t he trying to break the window if he wants to kill me? Every half hour or so, there would be that same heavy thud on the outside of the door. I knew dawn would be coming soon so I grabbed a few things but when I went to the key to the ATV, it was gone. The man took it so I couldn’t leave. A brand new wave of fear rushed over my body. I grabbed an old tackle box off the top of the cabinets, my dad used to keep a spare key in here in case we lost one. ‘Please be in here, please be in here, please be in here’, it was so cold but sweat dripped into my eyes. YES! There it was. I peaked out of the window but didn’t see the man. I took a deep breath and threw open the door with a dozen arrows now sticking out of it, running as fast as I could to the ATV. Jumping on and shoving in the key, it took a few seconds for the engine to turn. As soon as it started I drove off, an arrow driving its way into the small pack on my back, barely missing my side by centimeters. Driving as fast as the terrain would allow, I got to my neighbors safely and retrieved my truck. As soon as I reached cell service I called the police. They never found anything, but I doubt they looked too hard, with the cabin that far out of the way. Even now, I often find myself wondering who that man was, and why he was terrorizing me. Did he want to kill me, or just scare me? Either way, I haven’t gone back to that cabin since, and I don’t think I ever will.

Honda Civics really are everywhere

xvw5o0

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xvw5o0/honda_civics_really_are_everywhere/

Donna lit up a cigarette ​ "Why do you insist on doing this to me?" I asked. ​ "Doing what, and to who now?" ​ "To me, you know your family, you could get an aneurysm" ​ "It would be a relief to you" ​ "Stop" ​ She looked to the side, she was done talking to me, and she wiped some ash off her knee, onto the grass. Donna took a bottle of wine out of her purse and took a swig from the bottle, say what you want about her class, but she wasn't one for pretense, and I feel obligated to tell you that I delighted in that. She passed the bottle to me, and I did the same, gulping down room-temperature glorified boxed wine. ​ "Oh, that might give me an aneurysm, too. I'm surprised you're not complaining" she said, with no hint whatsoever of surprise in her words. ​ ​ "Sometimes when you're drunk, you laugh, and maybe that's worth a little risk" she looked at me pensively, I could almost see what we both desperately wanted to see, a glimmer of sadness, and longing. Because if there's longing then there's hope. We drank wine out of bottles in an attempt to transport us to our youth when we would drive her dad's worn-down pick-up truck, drunk on Shiners. To give the younger us some excuse, it was out in the middle of nowhere, maybe we could have gotten unlucky and hit a cow; oh I'll cut the shit, we didn't care, not at all, is that what it meant to be young? To be cheap, and not give a shit? Maybe, but it also meant that Donna's dad was still around and that Donna's mom hadn't died of a stroke. Then we didn't have to worry about aneurysms or people leaving and never coming back. ​ When pressed on the issue, or something like the smell of Maxwell House coffee found its way to her nose, Donna would talk about how she believed her father went out to kill himself, too beset with sorrow to handle the death of his wife. It was always somber, but I still think there was a bit of hope there. The alternative was that he felt himself a free man and that he took the opportunity to start a new life. The worst thought of all was that he was happy, maybe happier than he had ever been. So, she said he killed himself, and that was that. ​ The sun was starting to go down now, golden and purple strips of light hanging on the clouds, a fleeting moment of time, and in that a premonition. Donna snatched the bottle and chugged. Her lips were stained now, and they hid the bite marks on her lower lip, the result of a nervous habit. ​ My phone buzzed, and I took it out of my pocket to cancel whatever alert that came up that I knew I would be useless to help. It was a notification that a man was on the loose in our area and considered dangerous. A man approximately about fifty years old, and if we were to see a blue honda civic, we should immediately call the police. ​ I laughed and showed Donna. ​ "If people followed this, the dispatch would be ringing off the hook, I can't think of a more common description" ​ Donna laughed too, it was absurd, and it felt so good to hear genuine joy from her, even if it came at the expense of whatever poor man had to deal with this misfit driving a blue honda civic. ​ "You know, there's someone out there who has a blue honda civic, and he's drunk himself so silly that he's wondering if he's that maniac on the loose" we laughed together, and I drank from the bottle of wine, just as the day was officially night. We sat together in the dark, and I put my hand on Donna's leg; this time she didn't move or inch her leg away from mine. There was a lamp that was abuzz with insects doing what I wanted to do with Donna later, but with no need for decorum or privacy, but with so much more violence. In a few hours, the trucks that whirred and sprayed poison would be by, so it was good for them that they were getting their thrusts in now. ​ A car pulled up then, a blue honda civic. What were the odds of that? Well, pretty high. We discussed that. But Donna and I watched anyway with that sense of unease that comes with horrible possibilities. Like how every creak in the house is a murderer especially after you've watched a scary movie or read a terrifying tale. I tensed my legs onto the ground ready to jump and run into the trees. Donna, I'm sure would follow. ​ A man stepped out of the car, sure enough, a man in about his fifties, and I bolted from the bench, immediately my foot found itself turning the wrong way, and I was on the grass, unable to move. Donna knelt beside me, and I thought of telling her to save herself like those brave men in the movies do, but then I didn't in fear that she might actually take me up on the offer. ​ The man walked forward, carrying a gun in his hand. Pointing it toward us, he was bleary-eyed and there was a stench of old cigarettes about him. It smelled like poverty without any hope, just bitter ashes. ​ The man stood in front of us, pointing his gun, looking at us, saying nothing. ​ "What do you want?" Donna's voice shook with just that bit of hope that maybe all of this could be solved. ​ He looked at her as if he really was looking for something as if he had never thought about what he wanted himself. I groaned in pain and thought it best to keep quiet. My heart was racing anyway, if I couldn't run away, maybe it would run right out of my body to find a better life. ​ "I don't..." the man paused, and his eyes widened, and there was something that slowly crept its way out of his eyes, it was the glimmer of hope that I had fought to find in Donna over shitty wine. There was tension between Donna and him, and Donna started to cry. To really let out like I hadn't seen her do in so many years, a childish and freeing cry. The man collapsed onto the ground, and so did Donna. I sat there, never so relieved that a man had collapsed onto the ground. ​ Donna leaned up and dried her eyes with her shirt, and we both stared at the man who had collapsed in front of us. ​ "Must have been an aneurysm" I quipped "Being a smoker and all, I told you that you should be careful" ​ "Fuck you, don't say that" ​ "I'm sorry, I was trying to bring some levity, I'm glad that we are okay, we should probably call the police or something" ​ "No, I think we should just leave him here" ​ "Why would we do that?" ​ "Because that man could have been my dad, and my dad left me" It had taken a Donna brush with death to even think of such a possibility, that her father had left his life behind like an old corpse, and that she had been left behind along with it. ​ "But your father killed himself" I reassured her. ​ "And so did this man, a long time ago"

The House of Attics and Basements [Part 2]

xvk0pa

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xvk0pa/the_house_of_attics_and_basements_part_2/

[Part One](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xsa3mq/the_house_of_attics_and_basements_part_1/) By 7:00 that evening, a wave of exhaustion hit me. I set my gun down on the counter and I brewed a pot of coffee, pouring the remainder of the scotch down the sink. Then, as I went to throw the bottle away, I noticed something strange at the bottom of my kitchen trash can. A familiar candy wrapper read ‘Red Whips’ in bold, welcoming letters. It had been my father’s favorite treat, especially when he was trying to get sober and needed a replacement for the bottle. Two things struck me as odd about the wrapper. First, I’d never eaten licorice in my life. And second, Red Whips had been discontinued almost a decade ago. I fished the wrapper from the trash. Its expiration date read Oct 30, 2023. Clearly, this was not some decades-old packaging. Heading to my laptop, I quickly searched for “Red Whips Discontinued” and found a few dozen articles about the demise of the classic candy. According to Wikipedia, Wiley and Sons company, which produced Red Whips, had been purchased by a competitor in 2012, marking the end of Red Whips as well as several other classic candies. As I started a search for ‘Red Whips rerelease’ I noticed some strange behavior in my search bar as the computer autocompleted a search for ‘Red Wall Erected.’ This was something I’d never searched for. Even stranger, when I hit enter, the search returned no meaningful results. Digging into the settings, I pulled a list of previous queries from my machine and found an odd list: *President Pence death date* *Lollipop 11 Songs* *San Francisco Attack* *Anchorage Quake* *Presidential Election 2020* *Presidential Election 2008* *Election 2004* *Taiwan Defense Crisis* The first results were weird. But my hair began to stand on end as the searches got more personal: *Stephen Walker* *Stephen Walker wife* *Stephen Walker college* *Rep. Stephen Walker* *Sen. Stephen Walker* *Stephen Walker News* *Maya Walker* *Maya Walker death* *Maya Walker murder* *Maya Green* *Maya Green murder* *Maya Green address* My guts twisted as I read these last lines. Maya Green had been my college girlfriend, and the woman I’d thought I’d marry until an ugly breakup just after graduation. As far as I knew, she had married a lawyer a few towns away, then given up her own law career once she started having children. I pulled up Facebook and quickly looked her up, confirming that she was indeed alive and well, as of a few hours ago when she made an Instagram post of herself smiling over a six-year-old’s birthday cake. Still, the search history had spooked me, and I pulled out my phone. Over the years, I’d transferred my contacts info–especially hers–to each new phone. I called up her profile and then hit the call button. “Hello? Stephen?” It was definitely her voice. “Stephen? Is that you?” I hung up as quickly as I could. Clearly, whoever had been searching my computer had gotten something wrong. Maya was alive and well, living a happier life than I could have ever provided. Maybe I’d had too much to drink, or maybe it was the stress, but for the first time in years, I felt a pit in my stomach, some kind of cocktail of grief and regret that I hadn’t known was still in there. To be honest, it had been a few years since I felt much of anything at all. And along with that feeling came that vicious thirst that had gripped me in my twenties. The buzz had long worn off, replaced with an evening hangover. How could I have been so stupid to pour that bottle of MacAllan down the sink? What was left in the cupboard now? As I turned back toward the liquor cabinet, I heard a click and looked back to see my own gun pointed at me. Holding it was a slim girl, no older than 14. She wore loose sweatpants and a shirt with a picture of Ted Cruz reading “Not My President.” I couldn’t tell why, but she looked oddly familiar. “What were you going to do with this?” she asked, her voice shaking slightly. “Nothing,” I said. “Nothing.” She laughed at that. “You’re probably right. You’re an expert at that, aren’t you? Doing nothing.” “Can you put the gun down?” I asked. “It’s making me uncomfortable.” “Thing is, I feel better with it pointed at you,” she said. “And if one of us has to feel uncomfortable, I’m picking you.” “What do you want then?” I asked. “Money? I can pay you whatever you want.” She laughed again. “It’s funny,” she said. “In some ways you’re so different. In some ways exactly the same.” When I didn’t respond, she continued. “I need you to drive me somewhere. Think you can do that?” “Do I have a choice?” “You do. But you’re not much of a risk taker, are you Steve?” “Stephen. You seem to think you know me pretty well.” “Better than you know, Steve. Now get the keys. It’s time for a road trip.” A few minutes later we were on the freeway headed north. She sat in the back seat, gun in hand. “So, do I at least get to know who’s kidnapping me?” I asked, trying to keep things light. “Emily.” “Oh, that was my mother’s name.” In the rearview mirror, I watched her roll her eyes. “So where are we going?” I asked after a bit of uncomfortable silence. “To see my mother.” My mind was racing now, pieces starting to fall into place. “Maya Green,” I said after a few minutes. “You look just like her. I couldn’t quite place it before, but–” “Just drive,” she said, looking out the window, but after a few minutes, she met eyes with me in the mirror and leaned forward. “So to you… she’s just some ex-girlfriend, right?” she asked. “Yeah.” “Were you ever engaged?” “No. Almost.” “What happened?” she asked. She was less taunting now, more genuinely curious. “She got tired of me,” I said after thinking it over for a moment. “She said I was wasting my life.” “Well, she got that right,” said Emily. “You know, I’ve been watching you for a few weeks now, and I’ve got to say, you are genuinely doing nothing with your time on this planet. Like, your biggest accomplishment over the last month is a grocery run, and I’m ninety-nine percent sure that only happened because you ran out of wine.” “What’s it matter to you?” I asked. She shook her head. “You’re right,” she said. “Just drive.” I looked back at her, and a name my father once told me bubbled up from some dark corner of my mind. “The Traveler,” I said. “Are you the Traveler?” At the name, the girl’s face went white, and she looked away. “Where did you hear that name?” she asked, but I didn’t respond. “No,” she said after a while. “Of course not. He’s… sick. Barely human. I could never…. Do the things he does.” As I looked back, I saw a tear streak down her face. I might have asked why, but I was interrupted by my car’s navigation: “You have arrived.” We walked to the sidewalk facing Maya Green’s house. Her last name wasn’t even Green anymore. The house was a classic Victorian, tastefully restored but painted in bland colors. Inside, light bloomed from warm orange bulbs and the sounds of laughter mixed with clanking dishes echoed out through the empty street. A little boy, maybe six, was watching us through the window, both of his hands pressed up against the glass. “Is that your brother?” I asked, but Emily shook her head. “No, I’ve never met him.” “Should we knock?” “We should get back.” She was crying now. “I just wanted to know for sure that she’s still here.” “She’s fine,” I said. “Better than fine.” “For now,” said the girl. “But it’s only a matter of time. He’ll come for her. Just like he came for mine.” The drive back was quiet. I tried to start a few conversations, but Emily was in no mood. She tapped the gun thoughtfully against the window glass, contemplating her next move. As we got home, I looked up at the house, taking it all in, as if for the first time. I remembered coming back from a trip to the coast as a boy to find it freshly painted, shining white and brilliant in the August sun. That same paint was chipped and peeling now, the whole thing gone to seed. Then, as I cut the headlights, I looked up at the upstairs window and saw him for the first time. Just his eyes, really, staring cold and dead. He turned his head slightly, like a bird assessing a worm. I could tell Emily saw him too because she leapt out the car door. She raised her gun and fired a single shot, shattering the window. For a moment, the Traveler stood there, watching us through the broken glass. Then he took a step back into the darkness and was gone. [Part 3](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xxab73/the_house_of_attics_and_basements_part_3/)

September 2022 contest nominations!

xvcxxl

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/NoSleepOOC/comments/xvcwea/september_2022_contest_nominations/

There's a reason why most people don’t want to get water in their ears, but it’s not the one you might think of... (PART 2)

xvfb94

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xvfb94/theres_a_reason_why_most_people_dont_want_to_get/

[Part 1](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/x9vjk5/theres_a_reason_why_most_people_dont_want_to_get/?utm_medium=android_app&utm_source=share) My jog continued all the way to the hospital. I planned to slow down once I got away from my building since I was still exhausted from the day at the foundry, but I couldn't shake off the sense of urgency that I heard in that voice, so I wanted to get to the place as soon as possible. The night became fairly chilly, almost as if the season was late autumn and not the peak of summer. Man, I wish it was that cold outside during my trip home from work when I was as hot as a furnace. Every now and then, icy wind scratched the uncovered parts of my body like dry, leafless, thin branches of neglected bushes next to the pavements in the suburbs. The maps app on my phone said that the hospital I sought was just around the corner, and sure enough, as I turned right at the junction, I came upon the entrance that had a big sign above. Cedar Falls, said the sign. I walked towards the doors and they slid open as I approached. This hospital was busier than I imagined, with nurses walking all around and scrubs tending to the patients in those exam rooms set in a row, with only curtains to separate them from each other. I approached the reception desk and took off the hood of my sweatshirt from my head. If the outside temperature could've been described as cold, the temperature inside this building couldn't have been called less than freezing, thanks to the AC blasting away at full power. My hair was still moist from the shower, and I felt my scalp tightening and becoming a bit numb from the cold. "Hello, I'm here to visit one of your patients." The lady with dark skin and gray, curly, short hair behind the desk looked at me above her glasses without lifting her head. She never stopped shuffling through some papers in front of her and took a pause before she replied. "That won't do, sweetie. You need to tell me the name of the patient, not just that you want to visit *someone.*" Shit. I had no idea what her name was. I wasn't even entirely sure if it was a woman's voice. "Yeah, she's in room 221." Great job, moron. You had to use *she* even though you had no actual proof that the voice was female. The shuffling of papers ceased and the lady glanced at me, once again above her glasses, as she scanned me from head to toe. She finally raised her head and looked me straight in the eye, this time through the eyeglasses. The string tied between the temples dangled a bit as she puckered her lips a bit. "Mhm, alright sweetie. You'll have to fill this paper since you're visiting a comatose patient. Hospital policy." She pulled a paper from the bunch she shuffled through earlier and handed it to me, together with a tiny pen that was tied to the desk with a string. It was a bit amazing, she seemed like a magician who pulled out your card from the middle of the deck when she found that paper so swiftly. *Wait, what? Comatose?* I realized what she said only after I was almost done with the form. Not that it changed anything, this whole thing was so weird already, it couldn't become much weirder. I filled out the form and handed it to the nice lady behind the desk. She gave me instructions on how to find the room and I was on my way. The elevator was almost empty so I got to my floor quicker than expected. I found room 221 just as quickly. I was a tad hesitant to open the door for some reason, but I powered through that feeling as I remembered how scared the voice was. I pushed the door handle and the wide door opened smoothly, without making a sound. The room was one of those suites or whatever they're called, the ones that are for a single patient and look a lot like a hotel room. I was a bit ashamed of myself because I immediately thought that the room was way nicer than my own apartment. The fact that people who stay in it are fighting for their lives with all their might is what made me realize how selfish that initial thought was. As I entered the room, I found myself in a seven-foot hallway with the door to the bathroom on my left. In front of me was the room itself, a fairly large one. The wall straight ahead had a big sliding window with roll-up curtains. In the right corner next to the window stood a reclining chair and a standing lamp, presumably for reading. The wall to the left had a decent size TV on it, with wardrobes on each side. There was also a couch in the room, I guess for family members who stay overnight sometimes. It was set next to the wall of the bathroom, so the person who sat or lay on it had a clear view of the patient's bed. The patient's bed was in the middle of the room, with its headrest touching the wall opposite the one with the TV. The machinery for life support, with all the tubes and wires sticking out was on both sides of the bed. There was also a small drawer beside the bed, on the side towards the door. I looked at the girl in the bed and couldn't help but feel angry. She was beautiful and young. And she was only alive because the machines kept her alive. It wasn't fair. All kinds of scum live amazing lives out there without a care in the world, while some people suffer like this and have to fight every second to survive. I stared at her face for a second. The voice that called out to me from the water was familiar. Yet the person in the bed was a complete stranger to me. It took me a moment to notice because I was focused on the girl, but a guy stood next to her. He was on the side of the bed closer to the window. And he held a syringe in one hand. The other hand reached for one of the IV lines. He was no nurse, he had a turtleneck and a leather jacket, and last time I checked, that was hardly a nurse or a doctor uniform. I had to act first and think later. He looked at me and was about to say something I supposed would've been a threat. I reached into my sweatshirt's front pocket, grabbed my phone, and chucked it towards him as fast and as hard as I could. In hindsight, that was careless, because I could've easily hit the girl. I dashed forward as soon as the phone left my hand. The man bobbed his head to the side to avoid the phone. It didn't hit him cleanly, but it grazed his temple and even drew blood in the process. I guess the throw had a lot of power behind it. By the time his temple turned dark red with the precious liquid, I was already next to the bed. I leaped over it, caught the guy by his jacket lapel with my left hand, and his shoulder with my right hand, and tackled him to the ground. My left knee hit the floor and I felt a crack. I was surprised by my own strength. I haven't fought someone since elementary school, but I smashed this guy to the checkered blue and yellow tiles beneath him like he was nothing. Working at the foundry day in and day out seems to be far more efficient for building up strength than had I thought. I kept my grip on the guy's shoulder as I slowly raised my upper body, ready to wrestle with him. At that moment, I saw his eyes turn back in his head. He began to twitch and flop vigorously right after, just as if he was a fish on dry land. Behind his head was a puddle of blood I haven't noticed before. It kept growing in size and I felt terror rush through my whole body. I backed off and tried to stand but the knee that made a cracking noise earlier buckled under my weight and I fell to the ground. **"HELP, HELP, ANYONE, ROOM 221, HELP!"** I screamed from the top of my lungs. A nurse came in rushing and as she saw the guy on the floor, turned her head back, called for a doctor and security, and immediately approached the seizing man. She flipped him onto his side and started pulling his tongue out. Since his jaw was clenched tight, the nurse had her fingers bitten over and over to the point of blood coming out, but that didn't stop her or slowed her down. The events that ensued remain foggy in my memory, presumably due to the shock from the whole experience and the pain I felt from my knee. I remember the security officer questioning me and the doctors performing a check-up on my leg, then rushing me to surgery. I woke up handcuffed to the bed frame. I remained under custody for almost the entire time I stayed in the hospital after surgery. Police officers came a few times and asked me to tell them the entire story. One of them stayed in the hallway at all times. I never mentioned the real reason that made me come visit the girl. That would get me an express ticket to the looney bin. Instead, I just told them she was an old friend and that I recently learned about her condition, so I wanted to see her. Eventually, they dropped the charges against me. The guy survived and woke up a few days later with no evident brain damage, despite his head getting cracked open when I tackled him. Turns out, cops can do their job well in some cases, like this one. They found out he was the girl's ex and that he stalked her for months before her car accident that caused the coma. He wanted to end her life, then his own as well because he thought she would never wake up. That day, he went to her room without checking in at the reception. He lied to the lady working there and said he just had to use the bathroom, so she let him into the hospital. They found the syringe that turned out to be full of gasoline. My fingerprints weren't on it, obviously, which got me out of trouble. The man confessed everything once he realized that lying wouldn't get him anywhere in this case. It took a few weeks until I recovered enough to leave the hospital. I was still limping, but I could at least walk. I never got the bill though, which was peculiar, but hey, I had no money anyways, so I didn't complain. It took me a few more weeks to be able to go back to the foundry, and at that point, I was completely dry on cash. My life turned back to normal, ish, with my knee as the only memento of the whole ordeal of weirdness. And the lack of cash. And the mental trauma of almost killing a guy. And the fun experience of being under arrest. Overall, it seemed like all I got from trying to help someone was punishment. I never wanted to hear a voice from the water again. I didn't either, even though I found myself with ears full of water numerous times after the event. One day, I got a phone call. I couldn't answer it as I was in the foundry at the moment, so it went to the voice-mail instead. I listened to it after I showered at home. It was the lady from the reception desk. I thought she must've called about the bill. "HI sweetie, I'm the receptionist from the hospital, Cedar Falls, remember? I hope your knee is feeling well. Listen, someone wants to see you and they asked me to call you for them. Come around tomorrow at 6 pm. Don't be late honey, it's important." I bet it was, she sounded pretty serious. Just as I was about to put my phone down and hit the rags, I got a text from my brother. *Hey bro, I know you lied to me about that knee,* Ah, fuck. How did he find out? Did he call the foundry to check if I really got my knee busted there as I told him? *but it’s alright, I understand why you lied. I know. And now it's time for you to know too. I got everything set up, come by tomorrow whenever. I'll teach you everything.* What? He *knows* what I think he knows? As I sat on the bed and stared at the cracked screen on my phone, I felt a powerful tug on my shoulders that threw me across the room. I hit the wall with my back and fell to the ground, right on my ass. I glanced around the room. There was no one there. Then I felt another tug on my right shoulder. I turned my head towards it. No one was there, again. I flew across the room one more time. While I was in the air, I realized what I saw on my shoulder earlier. *Water.*

The New Girl in Class is Pure Fucking Evil...

xuiifx

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https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xuiifx/the_new_girl_in_class_is_pure_fucking_evil/

The new girl in class smiled at me as she sat down at the desk across the aisle. Her grin was a little crooked, revealing dark, red-stained teeth, as if she’d just been drinking fruit punch. I'll admit, she seemed a bit weird right from the start. She wandered in halfway through the semester, causing the teachers in my high school a lot of grief. During every lesson she was confused, as if whatever school she had been to previously was not up to snuff. Regardless of that, Hilda attended class every day and sat right beside me. We shared glances back and forth across the aisle and I got the impression she liked me. Then one day she passed me a note asking what I thought of her. Being a sixteen year old boy with few romantic prospects, I passed it back with a picture of a cartoon wolf howling at the moon and she burst out laughing. After that we were inseparable. She started coming over to my house after school and I introduced her to my parents. We went to the movies together and watched TV in my basement. We made out on the couch down in the darkness of my den, listening carefully for my mom’s creeping footsteps coming down the stairs. We dated for a few weeks before I began getting a little freaked out by some of her quirks. She hid it pretty well at first, but after a while things started to add up. It wasn’t any one big problem, just lots of little things. She collected my hair. That was weird. She gathered up bunches of it from my brush and I caught her stuffing it into her pockets one day. When I confronted her about it she just denied it. The other strange thing was that I was never allowed to go over to her house. She said her parents were very religious and would never let her have a guy over. But when I dropped her off at night I would see strange flashes of red and green light glowing through the windows from inside. And once I could have sworn I saw someone levitating - hovering several feet off the floor and screaming at the top of their lungs, looking terrified. But when I looked back the person was gone, as if I had just imagined it. Oh, and she wore strange jewelry as well - upside-down crosses and pentagrams. Weird, druidic symbols made into necklaces and rings. I asked her if she was into Wicca, but she just looked confused and told me she prefered comfortable furniture. It wasn’t just those things that made me break up with her. My friend Greg told me this other girl Sarah had a thing for me, and I always thought she was smoking hot. In retrospect I should have been nicer about it. I should have called Hilda at least, to break up with her. But instead I just sent her a text, saying it was over. She called me two seconds later, bursting into tears when I confirmed it was real. She asked what she had done wrong, and I told her it wasn’t her, it was me. But she didn’t sound any happier about things, and just kept asking why I was really breaking up with her. I started to get impatient and we ended up bickering back and forth for a while. After thirty minutes of arguing, I told her what I really thought of her and the actual reasons why I was breaking up with her. Big mistake. The crying stopped suddenly and I heard the sound of a dial tone. After we hung up, I felt a stabbing pain in my belly, as if someone were driving a knife into my abdomen. It got worse and worse until I doubled over, and I was soon laying on the floor of my living room, howling in agony. It let up after a few long minutes and I groaned with relief, getting up from the floor on wobbly legs. I got a text from Hilda a moment later. The message included a picture displaying a strange-looking homemade doll with wispy strands of human hair protruding from its head. The face on it looked like my face. And there was a needle being driven into the doll’s belly, deforming the soft fabric with its sharp point. Another text came through from Hilda. Sore tummy? She asked mockingly. I began to type in a message with shaking hands, begging for her forgiveness and telling her I didn’t mean what I said. I just needed some time alone. Bullshit, she responded. I know you’re leaving me for Sarah. Before I could type anything back, I felt a searing pain in my belly again, but this time much worse than before. I looked down to see blood pouring out and dripping to the floor, forming a puddle around my feet. Another text came through and this one was a picture again. It was her cutting the doll’s plump belly open with a serrated knife, peeling back the fabric to reach inside. The phone dinged again with another message and another picture. I had imagined there being white fuzz inside the strange figurine, like any other stuffed doll would have inside, but instead there was blood with bits that looked like tiny organs floating in it. I felt as if a hand were reaching inside of me, pulling on things and twisting my guts, cutting and hacking with a knife. Surely enough, the next picture she sent showed her clutching a chicken liver or a kidney in her hand, and another showed her squeezing it into a juicy, chunky pulp. On my left side it felt as if something had burst and I screamed as the warmth of blood filled my insides. My guts felt like they were being twisted and pulled for a few long moments, but then that sensation stopped and I was left gasping for breath again, down on my knees although I didn’t remember how I got there. I sent Hilda a text with my trembling hands, missing the buttons and taking five minutes to get it done. But finally I managed to finish the message and sent it. Please, take me back. I’m sorry. It was all that I could think to do. It was the only way to get her to stop hurting me. I’m coming over, she replied a moment later. I’ll see you soon. With a pit of dread forming in my stomach, I sent her a response, saying that I couldn’t wait to see her. I just hoped she could fix whatever she had done to me, using the magic of her strange little doll. When she arrived at my door, a wave of relief washed over me, seeing that she had brought the doll with her. Maybe she did intend to fix me, I thought, and a hopeful grin spread at the corners of my mouth. “Thanks for coming over,” I said. “So? Will you take me back? Can you fix me?” Hilda seemed to consider this for a moment, then shook her head. “No,” she said. “Nobody can fix you. I just wanted to watch this part for myself.” With that, she produced a small pocket knife and began to cut long gashes going vertically down the doll’s face, running across the eyes and popping the tiny sewn buttons which were attached there. She dug the blade and twisted it, sending pieces of the doll flying through the air. “Not so handsome anymore,” she said, as blood began to pour from my cheeks and my eyeballs burst open, spilling intraocular fluids which ran warmly down my chin. “I don’t think Sarah is gonna be interested in you after all.” She left me blinded on the floor, terrified out of my mind and bleeding profusely. It took a while to recover in hospital but I'm doing a little better now. Thank goodness for the speech to text software that allowed me to post this to share with you all. And the help of friends and family. Witches, what can you [do?](https://www.reddit.com/r/JGcreepypastas/comments/raq7ay/all_stories_20212022/?utm_medium=android_app&utm_source=share) [MAD](https://www.reddit.com/r/MidnightAllDay?utm_medium=android_app&utm_source=share) [TCC](https://www.reddit.com/r/TheCrypticCompendium?utm_medium=android_app&utm_source=share) [YT](https://youtu.be/9RybtYtDzAk)

Life On The Road (Part 1) The Fire Watch Incident

xuwj9d

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xuwj9d/life_on_the_road_part_1_the_fire_watch_incident/

(Next: https://redd.it/y1nqg2) Due to some circumstances out of my control, I need to live in constant motion. If I remain in one spot for too long, well, unpleasant things tend to happen. To avoid this, I took up a nomad lift style of living out my car or in motels. Being a truck driver is out of the question because I would be requested to have certain routes. I can’t even stick to a certain routine for very long. I think this life may be hard on others, but I found myself perfectly content with always travelling. The only real downside is my bank account suffered. In order to stay warm and fed, I took jobs most people aren’t even aware of through a Corporation regular folks should never find out about. Some of these jobs were simple. Go to one place and see if anything weird is afoot and report back. The Corporation always needed eyes on the ground and I didn’t need to solve the problem. Just confirm if there is one. I received a request to go speak with a forest ranger in a fire watch station a few days drive from my location. The job’s payment was to cover at least a month of gas so I accepted it right away. Sometimes I got lucky and could knock a few small jobs off at once, but this time I only had the interview request. I went directly to the listed forest and checked in with the ranger’s station. The ones on duty gave me a side eye wondering why I wanted to talk to one of their rangers on duty. He hadn’t told them about anything strange going on, and people tended to not want to hike all the way to the fire watch tower to give some news. I lied saying I was a distant relative and told them some family issues came up that the ranger needed to hear about in person. I didn’t want to ruin his reputation mentioning my real purpose for being there. They offered for me to talk to him over the radio but I was adamant on walking over. They looked at my polished, yet well-worn shoes and dress shirt. I may live on the road but I dressed like and office worker when I took jobs. Nothing said I needed to dress sloppy just because I didn’t have a real home. They waved me through asking to sign out whenever I came back. The hike wasn’t pleasant and the heat made me unbutton my shirt a little by the time I could see the tower through the tree tops. My shoes hurt my feet and I cursed myself for being so stubborn on looking formal. I was getting paid for this so I refused to complain to anyone but myself. I arrived at the base of the tower to see a man pacing waiting for me. They sent him a radio message a head of time saying I would be on my way and he assumed the real reason why anyone would come to see him in the middle of the forest. I raised a hand to greet him when we got closer. He was taller than myself with a long beard. His eyes dark and sunken in his face and his clothing hanging loosely from his frame as if he lost a lot of weight recently. His hand shook at his side clearly showing he wanted some sort of vice but didn’t have whatever his body craved. “Are you Barry?” I asked not bothering with a last name. “That’s me. You’re the one they sent? The uh... You know? The company that deals with this sort of thing? Mr...” He trailed off clearly forgetting my name. “Adelaide.” I said quickly and got right down to why I arrived. “You said you’ve been seeing things in the woods? What sort of things? Since a few hikers have gone missing The Corporation wanted to gather information to see if they could figure out the cause.” I explained sounding as positive as possible. Barry gave a distrustful look. He appeared to be the type of person who didn’t believe in anything that lurked in the woods besides hungry bears. That was, until he experienced something strange himself. He acted reluctant to speak about it even after I came all this way. He needed to accept that no matter what he said I wouldn’t dismiss him outright. Finally, the ranger cracked saying what he doubted anyone would take seriously. “I’ve seen a girl the past few months. She’s... She’s dead. Or dead looking. I really didn’t want to know what she would do to me so I looked online and found all sorts of weird protection charms to keep her away at night. She just... stands at the foot of the stairs screaming for me to come down. I can’t tell any of the other guys about this. They’ll boot me for sure. I need this job; I can’t do anything else.” He sounded exhausted. I nodded listening and taking in his story. I asked him to show me what he set up and found salt lines and symbols drawn in chalk along the wooden railings. I knew from experience that the symbols did nothing. Most were from video games or other sorts of media. The salt may be useful on keeping some creatures away but I didn’t know what we were dealing with just yet. He even showed me foot prints in the dirt he said belonged to the girl who screamed at night. That was interesting. The shoe size was far too small to be his own. Either some person was out in the woods messing with him, or something not natural really waited for the ranger when the sun went down. I checked the time finding the sun set in about three hours. I debated on what I wanted to do. I wanted to believe him. I wouldn’t dismiss a story like this because something supernatural was implied. But I couldn’t take it at face value either. I needed more proof besides a tired forest ranger and some foot prints. I didn’t know how long it might take for the dead girl to show up. I could risk staying for five nights. Maybe less. If any signs of something odd didn’t appear by then, another person needed to be called to finish the job. My payment would be cut too. This dead girl needed to not be shy for my sake. I told Barry I wanted to sit and wait at the foot of the stairs that night to watch for her. He looked at me as if I was crazy, then got angry. “You don’t believe me, do you?” He accused the lack of a decent night's sleep causing him to have a short fuse. “I believe you, but in order to call in a more experienced agent to solve the problem I need proof. The agents are in high demand, but I also need to know what we’re dealing with so we can send in the right person for the job.” I explained. Thank God I’ve been blessed with a soft voice. I calmed Barry down and he nodded. He didn’t like the idea of me staying unprotected outside though. He called the ranger station to tell them I would be staying the night. The sky started to change colors and he went halfway up the wooden stairs. Looking down he attempted to talk me into not saying so exposed one last time. “She’ll kill you. I don’t know how, but I know she can.” He said, voice shaking over the idea of the dead girl in the woods. “It’s fine if she does.” I replied not thinking much about what I said. I mentally kicked myself and went on. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve been through a lot of jobs like this.” I assured him. He didn’t look as if he believed me, but refused to stay anywhere but in his tower for the night. He left me behind when night fell. I wished I brought a jacket along when it started to get a bit chilly as I waited for anything interesting to happen. Barry gave me a flashlight before he hid away for the night. I got bored and started to click it on and off under my chin, attracting bugs. I really didn’t like the woods. I didn’t mind the bugs but hated getting bitten. In my line or work, nothing good happened in the woods. I felt as if humans should just stay clear of them to avoid all the trouble. I heard something off in the trees and got to my feet. With the flashlight in hand, I scanned the woods trying to find the dead girl Barry spoke about. This was my job but I still got a little scared. Alright, a lot scared. I felt terrified of seeing her. I wanted this all to be some sort of prank some bored high school kids were playing on the forest ranger that crashed their party in the summer. That wasn’t the case and I learned the hard way. I turned to check behind me convinced something might be crawling up ready to attack. I breathed a sigh of relief seeing nothing. Thinking myself a bit silly from getting so worked up, I turned again and my heart nearly stopped when my light landed on a pale figure standing a few feet away. Barry wasn’t lying about how she looked. If this was a prank, then the person behind it was better at any movie studio doing makeup. I could no longer believe this was any kind of joke when my light shone through a rotten hole in the figure’s stomach. My hand shook and I almost screamed when she took a step closer. Her one foot twisted in a way that made her walk with a limp. Her skin pulled back and clinging to her skull and lips gone. Long black hair limp and falling out in places. One hand missing some fingers and I suspect some sort of small scavenger animal took them. At least I knew sort of what I was dealing with. She was physical. Not a ghost like I first assumed. Ghosts can emotionally break you to the point where you’ll never recover. An undead creature like her could just kill me and eat my remains. Some days I didn’t know what was worst. “I uh... I’m just here to help Barry. Could you tell me-” I started to ask in a very scared tone I hated myself for. I wanted to ask her why she was there and what she wanted. Sometimes creatures were friendly and just wanted to talk. I’ve come across a great deal of the nice monsters but wasn’t so lucky with her. At the mention of the ranger’s name, she snapped. Her mouth opening wide with a loud echoing scream coming from it. I took three steps back by the time she covered the distance. Her thin rotten hands falling on my warm flesh and tearing. Her screams the last thing I heard that night. She made quick work of my insides and I bled out within seconds. I assumed she kept tearing my body apart, but I wasn’t aware to know what happened after I died. Yes, I died. And when the sun rose, air filled my lungs again. I gasped and coughed; my body repaired as if nothing happened. Not even my clothing remained torn. All the pieces back into place with only tracks in the dirt and a broken flashlight as evidence of the attack. I died and came back. Those are the circumstances that kept me on the road. I can’t tell you how I gained this power. It's just something I found I had after death came for me one day so many years ago. No matter how I die, I come back perfectly fine the next sunrise. I haven’t been killed that many times since I found out about this odd quirk. I still felt pain and held onto the memories of my death so I tended to avoid it if possible. I come back to life in the same spot I died in. So, if someone were to bury me alive, every sunrise I would come back stuck in one spot. This power isn't as great as one assumes it to be. I rolled over, still dazed and trying to collect myself. It always took a few minutes to get past the pain of being killed. I sat up, trying to find traces of the girl. I did want to help her. Even after she killed me, I felt as if she needed someone on her side. Seeing her reaction and the state of her body I started to get a terrible idea of what happened to her. I wanted to confirm my thoughts though. Without any cell phone reception, I needed to leave and come back after I gathering some more information. Barry must have seen my body from the watch tower scattered in the dirt that night. I guessed he was asleep, or refusing to look outside because he didn’t call down when the dead person got up and started walking back down the trail in the grey morning light. I’ve never had someone watch the moment I came back to life so I didn’t know what it was like. Did all my body parts snap back together? I did I just appear all fine and dandy? I decided I didn’t like that train of thought. The idea of it making my body itch. I stayed at a nearby motel using their terrible Wi-Fi for the rest of the day. I went back down the hiking trail with a new flashlight and a plan in mind. I needed to confirm what I found out. It was a stretch of theory though, and if I wasn't right, I might just doom an innocent person. I arrived by the time the sunset. I noticed movement in the fire watch station. Barry was still there and I didn’t report into the ranger’s station so I didn’t know if he told the others about my death or not. “Hey Barry, can walk talk?” I shouted upwards hoping he could hear me. It took a few minutes, but he opened the door and looked down. In the dark I couldn’t really see his face but one could guess what expression he wore. A dead girl and now a dead man. I bet he thought he was losing it. “She... She killed you!” He shouted back down, sounding almost angry that I stood there alive and well. “Yeah. That sucked. Anyway, can you confirm something for me?” I asked wondering if I needed to go up and get him. His attention got drawn somewhere else. Even at a distance I could guess at his line of sight. I brought my flashlight to shine over to the woods in time to see the girl taking a few steps out. Her dead face looked shocked to see I was alive. I only had one shot at talking with her before she snapped again. “Hey, I’m here to help you. Can you put off killing me for a minute?” I asked her in a softer tone than what I used with the ranger. When she didn’t move, I looked back up at Barry. With her here he wouldn’t come down. I didn’t like out right accusing someone of a crime but he wasn’t giving me much of a choice. “Anna Jones wet missing six months ago. Her boyfriend was arrested under suspicion of killing her. He folded and admitted he assaulted her but she fled into the woods still alive but injured. You were on the search team trying to find her. Why didn't you mention any of this?” I spoke sternly, making him read between the lines of what I wanted to say. “We never found her!” Barry shot back, about to turn away and hide. The dead girl tensed at his words. She let out a low growl and her hands raised ready to attack us. I knew she could tear through the watch tower door and Barry had his time limited unless I kept talking. “Why is she here? She wouldn’t be standing at the tower every night tormenting you if you didn’t do anything!” I said back, the girl taking a few steps closer causing my heart rate to spike. “I swear, I never touched her!” He shouted back, hysterical. “Cut the shit Barry!” This time I shouted; my normal kind tone lost in a deep growl. It startled Barry and Anna. She froze not expecting the outburst. I really hated swearing and only did so when needed. I jolted the ranger enough to say something that confirmed my terrible theory. “She was going to die anyway!” The woods went silent as his words faded into the dark. I glanced over at Anna, her thin arms wrapped around her rotten body. She hunched over, shaking in rage over what happened before her death. Her boyfriend, someone she trusted, got drunk and assaulted her. When she ran into the woods and at death’s door another man showed up. Someone that should have done everything in his power to save her. I didn’t ask him to elaborate on what Barry did. My throat already tasting like acid and I had trouble keeping my own disgust towards him down. As an act of revenge, she came back to torment him every night. Anna strong enough to kill Barry with her undead body, but she wanted him to suffer for as long as possible. I felt myself agreeing with her. How she was moving around a bit of a mystery. I’ve heard such a thing happening before but not the reasoning behind it. Some places, like bayous and deep ancient forests held power no humans understood. Sometimes this power acted in the strangest of ways when mixed with a human will. Anna had enough willpower to borrow some of the forest power and to make her rotting body move out of spite. I respected her for that. She moved again and I put myself between her and the stairs upwards. Her hand raised and I remembered the pain from the night before. I flinched but stood my ground. “Listen, please don’t kill him. I swear I have a good reason to ask you this.” I told her, arms spread wide trying to keep her back. “He deserves it but I was sent here by a Corporation that deals with supernatural creatures. If you’re perceived as dangerous, they’ll hurt you. I don’t know if you’ll still be alive after your goal of revenge is taken out but I don’t want to risk it. You shouldn’t be punished for taking action against the one who hurt you.” She hesitated, the dead face making it impossible to read her emotions. At least she listened. I took a step closer, waiting for her to lash out. When she didn’t, I offered my hand. “Let me call in some favors. We’ll arrest him for what he did for you and he'll rot in jail until he dies a natural death, or gets fresh with another inmate. I... know people who owe me a few things. They can put a curse on him to ensure he doesn’t take his own life. And they can also give him nightmares more terrifying than anything you could think of. That is, if that’s what you want. “ A long tense moment came between us. I knew Barry couldn’t hear anything we said. I thought I heard him slam the watch tower door and lock it but didn’t risk looking up. Anna’s dead eyes flicked over my own trying to spot a lie. A drip of sweat ran down the back of my neck in the cool night air. Finally, she cracked. Her face muscles working to cause her lip less mouth turn into an odd smile. I smiled back at her, my heart aching for what she went through. She took my hand, ready to let someone else take over her act of revenge and happy she finally met someone she trusted. Although, I did let her bang on Barry’s door for a few hours that night and scream to spook him a little bit. In the morning I made some calls. Police came by and found Anna’s body to be taken home and buried. She found a tree to curl up under ready to not wake up again. Barry was arrested and he raved about Anna coming every night and completely snapped. Him saying I’d been killed only to come back the next day didn’t help his case at all. With some prodding he admitted in detail what he’d done to a poor lost dying girl, but I never asked to hear what happened. Knowing as much as I did already felt like too much. I got paid a little extra for closing the case instead of just reporting on the details. The Corporation knew of my ability to come back after death. They never abused it though. Not once did they send me on a dangerous job knowing I would be the only one to live through it. I didn’t have any strengths besides breathing again every morning after being killed. So was out right useless on bigger jobs. I kept looking over the extra amount in my bank. It left a bad taste in my mouth. I got in contact with Anna’s family and sent them the money for funeral costs. Attending the funeral didn’t feel proper so I promised myself to leave flowers at her grave at some point. I did have friends who could place the curses on Barry as promised but never called them. His mind gone completely he no longer had any notion of reality. The idea to end his suffering by his own hands would never come to mind. His every waking moment haunted by Anna even though she no longer was around to do so. One small case was solved unexpectedly. I feared there may be more girls like Anna out there waiting to be found. Sadly, it wasn’t my job to find them. I only got requests like hers on occasion. Most of the time I needed to check to see if a hotel was haunted or if a guy really did see the ten-foot were beast in the woods and wasn’t drunk off his ass at the time. I honestly wanted there to be less jobs and cases like this one and that every person that got lost in the forest arrived home safe and sound. I hated when another set of parents to grieved over their missing child. When it happens, and if I had spare time, I had some freedom to do whatever possible to bring them home one way or another. At least each job paid enough for me to afford gas in order to get to the next. Sometimes things turned out well, sometimes they didn’t. My life, like my death was completely out of my control. Getting into my car, I found directions to the nearest and cheapest hotel to get washed up and rest before tackling the next request and wondered where my life might take me. Even after doing this for so many years, I didn’t have a clue of what would come next.

Mister Charlie

xujqhx

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xujqhx/mister_charlie/

Grandma was dead three days before they found her. It wasn’t the stench of the corpse that tipped anyone off. Her house doesn’t sit too close to the others in the neighborhood. It was Mister Charlie, her pet parakeet that sounded the alarm. A jogger was taking a shortcut through an alleyway to reach the park just beyond her fence line when she paused to tie her shoe and heard a faint cry for help. To think something so insignificant could cause ripples for weeks to come. I wasn’t there when the EMT took her out, but from what I heard most of the body had succumbed to decay. The skin had started to melt away from the bone due to lack of embalming. The family chose to do a closed casket ceremony. And I was designated as babysitter for the bird. Mister Charlie looked like he hadn’t eaten in days when I retrieved him. His feathers were ruffled and dirty, his talons encased with poop and food. He was likely stressed over the loss of his owner, I thought. My mom told me that Mister Charlie was my grandmother’s favorite pet in all the years she’d been here. Supposedly he could say over 300 words and phrases. “How long do I have to keep him? I don’t mind but my landlord might,” I told mom. “At least until Sunday please, I have to make arrangements with the funeral home and the lawyer regarding her will.” Sunday was only four days away so I figured a squawk-box wouldn’t be that big a deal for such a short period of time. And since the poor little guy had been responsible for trying to get grandma some help I figured I should clean him up as a token of thanks. “Step up,” I urged the tiny bird as I poked my finger into his cage. His pupils were dilated. He didn’t look eager to comply. “Step up,” I said again getting a little closer. I worried maybe he might bite me. But finally Mister Charlie obliged and hopped onto my index finger. “Good bird,” I cooed. He made no reply. Was he scared? Shy? As I cleaned him I whistled and hummed, trying to calm him to his new surroundings. I had my phone out as well and looked up what exactly his species was known for. It took a minute or two for me to narrow down that and guessed by his green pigment and size new as a species commonly called lineolated or Catherine. According to the article I found they were often quiet and good for apartments. Said to only live 10 to 15 years they are easily trainable. “I wonder how long grandma had you?” I muttered as I took him back to his cage. Charlie didn’t wager a guess. But he did seem happy to be clean. In fact for the next two days of his stay the bird said nothing. It was almost as though he were stoic or grieving over the loss of his owner. I wondered if such a pattern would get worse if he moved again and to be honest I had grown attached to that little fella, especially when my girlfriend stopped by to chat with him and he finally became animated. “He’s so cute!” Darcy said excitedly as she offered him pellets. He even made a few chirps, and that perked her right up. So that Sunday I told mom he could stay. My landlord didn’t seem to mind since he was quiet and not a messy pet. And it also gave me an excuse to have Darcy over more often. She was apparently head over heels into learning how to care for him and wanted to do everything herself. Charlie didn’t seem to mind… at least not at first. Then one breezy afternoon, when Darcy came in the door and dropped her keys on my kitchen counter out of nowhere he squawked. “Turn around! Turn around! Leave!” “Hey! Are you not happy to see me?” Darcy muttered. “You’re just a slut,” Mister Charlie answered. My girlfriend had a face of pure disbelief and spun around to accuse me. “What’s the meaning of this?” she asked. “I… I don’t know. He’s never even talked before!” I admitted. “Liars go to hell,” the parakeet said. It sounded like a woman’s voice now. It was old and ancient and gave me a bit of a chill. “Yeah right. So is this some sort of prank?” Darcy asked. “You’re gonna be sorry,” the creepy voice said again and Mister Charlie hopped closer. “I hate you.” That sounded exactly like me. And that was the straw that broke Darcy. “You know what? You and your pet and fuck yourself. I’m going to go party with friends,” she exclaimed. I tried to talk her out of it. But I had no idea why the bird had even changed its behavior that day. For the next six hours I tried to text and apologize to Darcy. Make things right. It went either straight to her inbox or she ignored it completely. It made me frustrated and I said some things I probably shouldn’t have. I just wanted to talk to her. When I had given up all hope, a call came in. “Darcy look I just want to say…” “Is this Andrew Mitchell?” it sounded like a man. “Yes… who is this?” “Officer Retland. I’m sorry to have to be the one to tell you this…” What he said after that was meaningless. I knew what had happened. I grabbed my keys and drove to the scene of the accident. They wanted me to identify the body. Something had come between Darcy’s car and her next turn and she had swerved to avoid it. Ultimately landing in a ditch with her skull smashed into the windshield. “That’s her…” I muttered as I realized her friends hadn’t survived the crash either. The police let me gather her things including her cell. Listening to the messages was chilling. It was deja vu. A play by play of what Mister Charlie had recited only hours earlier. Her girlfriends had been doing a FaceTime and distracting her right before the crash. They were teasing her, calling her a slut as my calls kept coming in. “You should turn around and leave! Go back to him!” one girl urged. Then Darcy listened to the last message I sent. The one where I said I was done and I hated her. It was the last thing she heard before her life ended. My throat felt dry. My body numb. Somehow, the parakeet had known. I stepped back into my apartment I looked toward the birdcage. He was just sitting there quietly observing me. I pulled up a chair and rested my hands on my chin as I stared back. “How is this possible?” I muttered. He said nothing in response. My mind filled with possibilities. Had the bird predicted that Darcy would die? If so, how? Had it been the same with my grandma? I sighed after waiting for far too long for something to happen. “This is crazy. I must be crazy. ” Grabbing my coat I went toward the back room to watch the game. “The best people often are,” a voice said as I got half way down the hall. I turned and looked at the bird. “Don’t be frightened,” it said as I crept closer. “What is this? Some sort of trick?” It cocked its head at me and hopped closer. “Trick or treat?” I sighed again. This had to be some response my grandma had taught it say. “Fine. Don’t tell me your secrets.” “Would you like to know a secret Andrew?” it squawked back. My jaw must have dropped. “Tell me,” I whispered. “I see the dead,” it whispered in a sing-song voice. “Want to hear another secret?” I leaned closer. It was barely talking. Pressing his beak right against my ear, the parakeet proclaimed, “You’re next.” [330](https://www.reddit.com/r/KyleHarrisonwrites/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app)

The Lumps

xv5d4g

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xv5d4g/the_lumps/

I awoke one morning to the lumps on my stomach. One night I was normal, the next I wasn’t. It all happened so suddenly. My life was stripped from me in a blink. A snap of the fingers. I still can’t believe it. I was terrified. The doctors were positively stumped. They had never seen anything like them before… two large, baseball sized lumps on both sides of my ribcage, making four total. They didn’t hurt; when I poked them with my fingers, the flesh subsided, then reformed, almost like a squishy stress ball. “Look…” my girlfriend began, “I don’t know what these are, but you need to keep going to specialists until they figure out what the hell they are, because they’re getting bigger! Oh my god!” Sure enough, looking down revealed… softballs now. They were growing. Fucking growing! “Cancer.” One doctor told me. “No way.” Another doctor said. “I checked out your biopsies, and well, I’ve never seen anything like it before. I don’t think your cells are cancerous in nature… they aren’t replicating per se. They’re, well, I don’t know how to say this, they are spawning out of thin air.” He snapped his fingers. “Imagine a magician.” The doctor said. “Wait, what?” I said. “Just humor me. Imagine a magician has nothing in his hand. He closes his fist, and then boom, a ball appears when he reopens his hand. That’s you! Your cells! I mean, you look in the microscope, blink, and your cell count has doubled!” “What does that mean?” I asked. “I don’t know. I recommend 24 hour medical supervision. I’d like to, with your consent, help find out what’s happening to you.” “Yeah, yeah, alright.” I said. Within the day, and after copious amounts of paperwork, I was set up in a luxurious hospital suite. TV, nurses on call 24/7, and even a PlayStation. It wasn’t bad. Until the eyes. All four lumps now had blinking, working corneas. They eyes flickered around the room, and shockingly, cried when I cried. All four eyes eventually got a yellow sleep crust in the corner of their retinas. The nurses scraped it out with cotton swabs, but they gagged and complained about it. As they got bigger and more bloodshot, the eyes locked on to me, never averting their gaze. It freaked me out. Then they started to form little sprouts, like a weed. Little bony masses jutted out of the corneas. The eyes stopped blinking then. The sprouts eventually became small little… limbs. Yes, limbs. The doctors were horrified. A nurse vomited when one of the eyeballs burst and retinal fluid soaked her scrub overalls. The limbs grew and grew until one day, the limbs became legs. Legs that touched the ground like an arachnid. I couldn’t control these limbs at all, but they were firm and hairy, almost like a tarantula’s. They twitched and jerked randomly, as if their nervous system wasn’t up and running completely, or as if they were somehow separate from my brain. I was petrified. The doctors injected me with morphine, and then they said they wanted to attempt something. A full amputation. They did the operation, and it seemed initially successful. Until they grew back. They cut them off again, this time with hacksaws. They grew back. They burned them with a blowtorch. They grew back. They dissolved them in hydrochloric acid. They grew back. I’ve been here for over a year now. My girlfriend left me. She’s been calling me a freak on social media, and said I should join a circus. My family has disowned me. I get my weekly “removal” as I like to call it. Honestly though, the worst part isn’t the lumps themselves, it’s losing my humanity. My self worth, my human dignity, my normalcy. Being stripped of my social life, shunned by my family, laughed at on social media by people who said they were my friends. No gifts, get well soon balloons, nothing. That’s the worst part of it all. I don’t know where to go from here. I live in a hospital, I don’t even want to imagine how much medical debt I’ve racked up. It’s gotta be in the tens of millions. I feel like a lab rat unable to leave my cage. I can’t even wear a shirt anymore! Hopefully I can get cured. But I think we all know that’s not going to happen. I’m going to die alone… a freak.

My uncle tried to warn me never to go back to my old home. My family had horrific secrets there they'd tried to keep buried for years. FINAL

xv1l4n

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xv1l4n/my_uncle_tried_to_warn_me_never_to_go_back_to_my/

[Previous](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xu5rjj/my_uncle_tried_to_warn_me_never_to_go_back_to_my/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf) I led the two of us outside. "Here's the plan, okay?" I said, letting go of her. "You remember where the old house is, right?" "Barely." she replied, obviously still shaken. "Okay, look, I want you to follow me in your car, okay? We'll go, grab Dad and get the hell out of there, okay, and we'll call the police or somebody to come out to the place. Anything goes *too* far sideways before then, at least we'll have a backup vehicle." She still just stood there, looking both frightened and confused. I couldn't blame her -- like I said, *I* was JUST AS confused. But I couldn't just sit there, knowing what happened to Uncle Don might happen to Dad as well. I hopped in my car and turned the engine over. Just before peeling out of there, I rolled down my window and called out to Lana to keep in touch with me over the phone. I then hit the road, going at least 85 miles an hour or more. It was another ten or so minutes before Lana texted me that she was following behind me. It was around 4:30 when I was pulling into the driveway of the old family home once again. Lana arrived just five minutes after. We got out and slowly made our way to the house. My legs shook with every step and I could see hers were no better. My mind was stuck. What was I gonna see? was Dad even gonna be alive? Who the hell *was* this guy, even -- still never had any kind of answer for that. What was I gonna do? Reaching the porch, I attempted to look through the windows again. Still blocked off, just like last time. "Dad?" Lana started calling out. "Dad, where are you?" Silence. I looked back to the door and began knocking. For about ten seconds, there was nothing. It was quiet, still, just like the last time I was there. Then, however, from the other side of the door, I could hear Uncle Don's voice shout "Come on in, been waitin' for ya!" Lana froze and looked at me. Her face drained of color, turning it from her natural olive tan to stark white. "I-Is that..." I responded by looking at her, horrified myself, and slowly nodding. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath before turning the handle and throwing the door open. "Dad!" Inside the living room was still dark, but at the other end, in the kitchen, I could see the dim glow from a candle. I stepped inside with Lana right behind me. About a foot away from the threshold between the living room and kitchen, I begun to see the dim light illuminate Dad's face. He groaned weakly through a cloth that'd been tied around his mouth and I could faintly see bruises and small cuts all over his face. "Come on and join us at the table, kiddos! We'll sit as one big family!" A figure, tall and broad shouldered stepped out of the kitchen and took a seat at the table next to Dad.Me and Lana stood at the threshold. "Come on, now," the man said, "I said join us at the table for a family gathering." I exchanged a glance to Lana and back to the table. The man's face was still mostly obscured by darkness. I couldn't make out anything outside of his nose and right eye. Seeing this, though, I was shocked by one big thing. His outline was almost exactly the same as Uncle Don's, including his rounded nose, but his eye was all wrong. It didn't even look human, appearing pupil less and like two deep violet colored marbles were stuck in his face. Hesitantly, I pulled out a chair at the other end of the table across from him and sat down. Lana stayed standing behind me. "Lana," he said, "What's wrong, don't you wanna take a load off?" She said nothing. He shrugged and said "Suit yourself." "Who are you?" I asked. I heard him chuckle. "Boy ain't wasting any time, is he? Well, maybe I'll go ahead and call the others in then." I narrowed my eyes. *[Others?](https://www.psychotoxin.com/?fbclid=IwAR3-rwRLKgt6B-fF8UHHdPL0307jiuOIW8TzjE7HQ08B1EawDDhWwb-PqtE)* He turned to the left and cupped his hand to his mouth and called out, "Come on out, y'all. Time we got everybody together." I heard Dad groan through his gag and fidget in his chair. From around the table, I could hear the old wood creak with footsteps approaching the table. I started looking around. *What the hell? What is that, who's--* My thoughts abruptly died when I began to make out five other figures in the darkness. Each of them were about my height, one of them being slightly taller and the others being slightly shorter. Except one that is, who was my exact height. Each of them gazed at me from the dark area around the kitchen table at me with dark violet eyes of their own. "Now the family's all here, ain't that sweet?" jeered Not-Uncle Don. Mine and Lana's jaws hung slack. we were both horrified. "What's the matter, ain't you kids gonna say hello? You shy? They're your own family, for christ sake!" We were silent, speechless. "I can't believe this, how're you kids gonna be *this* rude to your own family. What, you blind? You can't see your own family resemblance?" The crowd of figures gathered around behind Not-Uncle Don. Squinting, I noticed then how familiar the outlines were. Two of them in particular did most to disturb me. They were of me and Lana! I could tell because of the way in which, despite still being largely shrouded in darkness, their height and overall outline almost seemed to be a perfect replica of ours. It was like I was somehow locked in a staring match with my own shadow. I could tell the same held true for Lana, too, with her face even more pale than mine. "Take a seat, guys." Not-Uncle Don told the group of shadows behind him. They all began to pull out and take seats at the table, with the exception of the ones that looked like me and Lana. They stood at either side of the table. All of them, including Not-Uncle Don, bore down on the two of us with marbled eyes. "Wh-What is this, who are you people?" Lana exclaimed. This time, it was another one that spoke. "He told you, it's our family gathering." It was a woman's voice, familiar. The voice of someone I knew for a fact was long dead, like grandpa and Uncle Don. "Ma?" The figure leaned over into the candlelight to illuminate the face of my mother. Her skin looked so young, so fresh and smooth, so *new.* She was 65 when she died just a couple of years before the whole thing with the family Barbecue. Now, though, she had the face of a woman who was *maybe* half that age. "Well there," she said, grinning psychotically, "It's been a while hasn't it?" My tongue felt dry, the muscles in my jaws locked. "What do you want? Look, whatever Dad did, please just let him go!" Lana begged. "Calm down, sweetheart." said another of the shadows, this one's voice deeper. This one, I recognized as Dad's. He also revealed his face through the candlelight, also appearing almost five years younger than the man tied up and gagged at the other end of the table. That was when Lana froze up like how I was. "What's wrong, why don't you give your old man some sugar, huh?" he asked. Lana slowly started backing away. "Where you runnin' off to?" Not-Uncle Don asked. The shadows of the two of us began to move in on her when I shot out my hand. "Wait," I said, shooting out my hand. They stopped. "Let her go. I'm here, I'm the one you wanted, remember? Just let her go and you can do whatever you want with me, okay?" "I said I wanted the whole family here for this, Jack. I wanted y'all to meet the rest of the family; the ones y'all never once tried to speak to or acknowledge." "What the fuck are you talking about?" From my right, next to Not-Mom, I heard the unmistakable voice of grandpa speak. "Now I know you kids were raised better than to curse at your own family like that. At the dinner table, too." He, too, then revealed the far younger looking face of my grandfather. "It's alright, Pops." Not-Uncle Don said. "Like I said, they wouldn't have known no better. No thanks to this clown right here." He sent a sharp elbow jab into Dad's right shoulder, causing him to groan weakly in pain. His eyes were dim, yet still just as petrified. "What are you guys talking about?! Look, I don't know who you people are, or why you look like my family, including the people who've been dead for years now, and I don't know why you went and killed my uncle, but you told me to come here; here we are. Now, will you *please* tell me what this is all about?!" Not-Uncle Don sighed and said, annoyed, "Just can't ever enjoy a family gathering, can you?" He then nodded over to Not-Me and Not-Lana, who then promptly walked over to me and her and took us by the arms. "Hey, what're you doing?! Get your fucking hands off me!" I tried sending a right hook with my free hand across Not-Me's jaw. It connected, but it did little more than to piss him off and he returned the favor with a hook straight to my stomach. I doubled over, clutching my stomach in pain. "Now, now, play nice, you two." teased not Uncle Don. I looked up to see Lana struggling against the hold of her own Doppelganger. "Get off me!" she cried. "L-Let her go." I said, trying to find my way back up to my feet. I felt not Me snatch the back of my head to force me the rest of the way up before seizing me once again by the arms. Not-Uncle Don then stood up from his chair, jerking Dad up with him and made his way to the area to the right of the dining room. Lana and I were then being pushed along in close pursuit. We were forced along into the darkened hallway. About eight or nine steps out from the dining room area and I was unable to see anything in front of or around me anymore. I couldn't even see Lana, who'd been pushed along right beside me at my right. From ahead of our little gathering, I heard not Uncle Don call out to us, "We're going down, so watch your step." This was then followed by the sound of a wooden door creaking open. He was leading us down into the basement, I realized. We were shoved forward, causing me to stumble and almost loose my footing completely. We were now in the basement of the family home, a place that, admittedly, I'd never seen before in my life. I remember how, only on select few occasions, granted, I'd get curious about the old door at the end of the hall leading into the dining room, but each time I'd get close to it, Dad or Uncle Don, one, would usually stop me, telling me that I wasn't to go near that door. I, of course, never understood why, other than "*Because Dad said so*", but now, with what I was faced with in that moment and what I'd see next, I understood more than I wished I would've, as well as why Uncle Don fell out with the family. Surrounding us now was a dimly lit room, illuminating shelves upon shelves of old, dirty looking books and glass jars with... "Stuff" in them. I won't describe too much here what was in them. Basically, think about any movie you've seen where the people are poking around a psycho-killer's house, all the grisly "trophies" you'd see laying around, hung up or on shelves like they were here. That's basically what this was, only somewhat more disturbing when combined with all the strange symbols that were painted everywhere. "What is this?" Lana cried, disgusted like I was. She beat me with that question by two seconds. "The family secret." Not-Uncle Don replied. He turned to Dad and said, "Ain't that right?" Dad grunted in a pitiful attempt at defiance. "Dad, what is he talking about?" I asked. "Yeah, why don't you finally spill it, old man?" Not-Uncle Don sneered before rudely ripping out Dad's gag. Dad's head dropped down toward the ground, lolling around like his neck was made of rubber. "Dad, what's going on? Who the hell are these guys and what are they doing here?" He looked up at me. His eyes were full of fear and exhaustion. "I told you to get out of here, Jack." he muttered. "Dad, what's going on?" He exchanged a look between me and Lana, then to Not-Uncle Don, before then looking back to me and sighing. "The family was desperate, Jack. Times were different back before you kids were born. Your Uncle and I, we were a couple of belligerent morons who, because your grandma and grandpa were always working, were left unsupervised a lot." He paused, sighing heavily. He likely would've stopped there, if it weren't for Not-Uncle Don telling him to "Go on with it, now." He glared back and continued. "It was one day, Don and I, we came home to find our folks crying. Said grandpa had just lost his job and owed a lot of people a lot of money and we didn't have any way to pay it off. We were in danger of losing the house. We didn't even have enough to afford much in the way of a decent meal, so me and Don were scared. We knew if we lost the house, Me and Don would be taken from our folks and grandpa would likely be thrown in jail. That night, while in bed, I was praying to God that we wouldn’t lose the house, while Don had another idea.” He walked over to one of the shelves and took down one of the books. Cracking it open, he then held up a page with weird looking symbols, looking something similar to Asian or even some sort of middle eastern lettering along with a crude drawing of what looked to me like a shadow figure standing side by side, mirroring a normal looking person. Not-Uncle Don laughed and remarked, “Go on and tell 'em what that is, why don’t you?” Dad hesitated, continuing to glare at him. “Dad, what is this?” Lana asked. He turned to her and answered “It’s a guide to summon a Tulpa, a mirror version of yourself.” My eyes bugged out at this. *Summon?!* My brain was screaming. *He said “summon”!* I couldn't believe it! For as long as I could remember, my family, my father especially, was a strong Christian. Anything even *remotely* involved with something like this, he'd have had no tolerance for. I mean, for God's sake, that "*Metallica"* poster in my room probably would've been torn down and trashed a long time ago if the old man would've had his way. Now, come to find out he and my uncle were actually *summoning* shit as kids? Lana had the same thoughts, too. "Dad... What... How could you?" She spoke for the both of us. Dad was silent again. Not-Lana then piped up, "Aww, give your old man a break, honey. I mean, *come on*, you don't *honestly* think he was always a pious suck-up like he is now, do you?" "She's right." cheered Not-Uncle Don. "In fact, you were quite the mischievous one back in the day, weren't you?" "Go to Hell!" he spat back. Not-Uncle Don just snickered. I stood, mouth gaping. Dad, despite his best efforts at defiance, couldn't hide it. He was guilty. Everything that was being said was all true. "We only wanted to keep the family together." he continued, voice completely devoid of emotion or inflection. "We were afraid, Jack. We thought, using the Tulpas, we'd be able to have someone, a part of the family, with the two of us if the worst came to light." "And look what happened. It worked. Let's have a round of applause everybody." The others followed Not-Uncle Don's lead and erupted into a small chorus of applause, with not mom and not grandma whistling. "You weren't supposed to stay!" Dad exclaimed. Not Uncle Don's smile faltered slightly. "It wasn't supposed to happen like this. You and him," he pointed to the shadowed version of himself, "were supposed to be the only ones! It was just supposed to be you two and *we* were supposed to be the only ones who could see you! We sealed you away when Paw got the new job! You weren't supposed to even still exist!" Not-Uncle Don turned to me and Lana. "Well, guess I'm not surprised about you two not bein' real "family oriented" after all, huh. You just get to pick and choose who you do and don't consider as family, is that it? Well then, I guess now its *our* turn." "What're you even talking about? Look, what's the point of all this?" I asked. "What is it you people actually *want* from us?" He looked at me, glaring at me, having dropped his wolfish grin. "You know how the old saying goes, *"What goes around, comes around."* He nodded over to Not-Dad, who then walked over to dad. "It's about time that *WE* show y'all what its like to have to get locked away in the void." Not-Dad then effortlessly pried Dad's jaws apart before somehow forcing himself inside of his body. Dad began gasping and choking and his body jerked and convulsed like he was in the middle of a seizure. "Dad!" I wanted to run over to him, but I couldn't wrestle against Not-me's grip on my arms. Dad fell to his knees, seizing on the ground. I could see his eyes roll into the back of his skull. "What're you doing to him?!" cried Lana. "Nothing he didn't do to us." Not-Uncle Don replied coldly as he observed Dad's suffering intently. "You're *killing* him!" I screamed. "No," he said coldly, "just making him a proper part of the family. He didn't want us to be part of his family, a family of actual people, so instead we're gonna make him a part of ours, whether he likes it or not." Dad's body slowly began to relax before going completely still. Then, his eyes snapped open as he slowly stood up again. His eyes were now the eyes of the other Tulpas. My eyes grew to the size of serving platters. My mouth went dry and my heart dropped like a stone into the pit of my stomach. I looked at Dad -- now taken over by Not-Dad, and looked over to Not-Uncle Don. I wanted to throw up then, realizing that's what he must've done to Uncle Don that night. I was even more horrified when, only a couple seconds later, Dad's skin began peeling away like a snake molting it's pelt. It stripped and peeled away slowly, revealing another layer of flesh underneath. It was like watching Dad's skin peel away to reveal another him, this one being paler and with the Tulpa eyes. "Wh-What have you done?!" I cried. This time, Not-Dad replied. "He just told you, boy, he's now part of us, just like Don. We're complete now, the two of us. Now, it's time to bring you kids properly into the fold." I felt Not-Me's hands start to force me to the ground from behind me. Not-Lana did the same with my sister. "Maybe *now* we'll have a proper family gather, huh?" Not-Uncle Don said, plastering his deranged grin from before. I tried to struggle, attempting to pry and even bite at Not-Me's fingers but it was no good. His fingers were the equivalent of miniature crow bars as they forced open my mouth. His arm strength was unreal, like what I'd maybe expect from someone double my size and weight. But instead, it was a shadowed version of my lanky, puny muscled self. Me and Lana were both on our knees, with our Tulpas prying our jaws apart. In one last desperate attempt, I jabbed my thumbs into Not-Me's eyes. Admittedly, I was a bit shocked to see it actually work and I was able to actually free myself. Once Not-Me reeled back in pain, shrieking in a way I'd never heard of before -- a way I wouldn't know how to describe other than to say that it might sound like what you'd imagine like a dragon's roar to sound like; beastial -- I sprang back to my feet and rushed to try and help Lana. I charged and managed to spearhead Not-Lana, sending the both of us to the basement floor. She began clawing viscously at my face from below me. I could just barely keep her pinned to the floor. "Lana, *RUN!*" I shouted. She stood up, but froze, mouth hanging open in horror. "Damn it, go! NOW! Get out of here, and get the cops!" "What about--" She was cut off with a scream as I saw out of the corner of my eye, Not-Mom and Not-Grandpa snatch her by the hair from behind. She was sent hurdling to the ground and I was soon overtaken by Not-Lana, who immediately proceeded to smash my face with her fists. I was helpless as blow after blow stoved my face in more and more. My vision began to fade as I watched the other Tulpas gather around me, watching Not-Lana smash my face in. "Alright, that's enough." Not-Uncle Don said, putting his hand up. "Can't have you gettin' carried away there and killing him, you know?" He looked down at me, grinning even wider, and said, "How would we be able to complete the family then, huh?" With that, Not-Lana raised back up and stood up. I laid on the ground, surrounded, dazed and bloodied. Not-Uncle Don waved for Not-Me to come closer. "Now, if we're done horsing around, I think it's time to welcome you to the family, Jack." Not-Me leered down at me, his violet eyes sparking from his shadowed form. "What do you think?" he said to Not-Me. Not-Me responded by immediately grabbing and again pulling my upper and lower jaws apart. I felt a sense of pressure, like something was crushing my throat from the inside as Not-Me began to force himself inside my throat. I began choking and gasping for air, just like Dad did as I spasmed on the ground. My body quickly began to go numb, losing all feeling in every nerve and muscle. I couldn't move anything except to twitch and writhe on the ground. The whole time, the others watched intently with smiles as big as Not-Uncle Don's. A black cloud quickly formed in the middle of my eyes, shutting me out of my sight completely. Following this, I eventually felt my hearing begin to slip away, too and I soon became almost detached from my body completely. I couldn't feel, experience, or *do* anything. I was little more than a fly on the wall, while Not-Me invaded my body completely, inside and out. Just before I'd be lost for good, though, I faintly saw Not-Mom reel in pain after being struck in the back of the head. Lana stood there, holding the old snow shovel we had down there, even though I never remembered using it. She quickly took it across Not-Grandpa's face, knocking him over, but was overpowered by Not-Lana. Not-Lana ripped the shovel from her hands and tossed it to the side before sending a powerful right hook across her jaw that knocked her backwards. For whatever reason, I guess out of its own weird sense of attachment or loyalty like how Not-Uncle Don was talking about, this seemed to catch Not-Me's attention, halting him from doing to me the same thing that happened with Dad. "Don't worry about her." Not-Uncle Don said. "She's a big girl, she'll handle that herself. You focus on doing your part." But it was too late. I began to feel a sense of relief beginning to return in my arms and legs. My Tulpa was losing control, being too focused on Not-Lana. He must've realized this because I could feel him struggle to try and resume the process again, but it was too late by that point. Soon, I felt all of the pressure from a few seconds ago leave my body, out through my throat. Then, there stood Not-Me once again, still in normal Tulpa form. "Aw, damn it, what're you doing?" exclaimed Not-Uncle Don. "Now look what you've done, you lost him!" I saw Not-Me exchange a quick look at him before re-fixing his sights on me. He dashed forward to try and have at me again, but he wasn't quick enough and I managed to roll over and jump back to my feet before he could get me. I was about to try and bum-rush Not-Lana again, her in the middle of forcing Lana to her knees again and prying her mouth open like how mine was, when I was cut off by Not-Dad. He backhanded me, sending me tumbling to the ground face first. I looked up to see Not-Lana disappeared, with Lana herself seizing and choking. "Lana!" I shouted. I tried again to make a break for her, only for Not-Me and Not-Uncle Don to cut me off. "Oh no you don't." Not-Me said. "You're not gonna keep her from us. Besides which, the two of us aren't finished." He went to grab at me again. I dipped to the side, dodging him yet again, before running. He and Not-Uncle Don followed after me in hot pursuit. I didn't look back, but I could hear their eager footsteps thudding behind me. I all but flew up the basement steps before throwing the basement door open and running through. I made it out, but just before I had the chance to slam it shut again, Not-Uncle Don managed to catch it, impeding me from being able to close it. "You can't just run off like that, Jack. We're your family, we'll always be together!" His voice somehow sounded even more devious when he said this. More psychotic, like a maniac. I didn't say anything, instead responding by thrusting a swift, stiff kick straight in the middle of his chest that sent him tumbling backward down the basement steps. As soon as I did this, I slammed the door to the basement before throwing myself against the door to brace it as a series of violent crashes rocked against the door from the other side. As the knocks got more and more vicious, to the point I was almost afraid they'd actually manage to bash it down from the hinges, I reached for the nearby spare kitchen chair we kept in case we had more company than expected and wedged it in between the door and the knob. It seemed to hold for the most part at first, but I knew they'd be through the door before too much longer even still. That's when I decided to make a break for the front door to my car. I flew out the door and across the front yard to my car, where I then threw into reverse and slammed on the gas, peeling out of the driveway and flying down the street at probably better than 75 or 80 miles per hour. That whole drive felt like a blur. My mind was on autopilot, with sheer panic having taken the driver's seat. Like I said before, it was at least a 45 minute to an hour drive from the old family house to Dallas, but in that moment, it felt like no time at all had passed before I was driving back into town. When I was able to sort of "come to", I pulled over into the nearest parking lot, at a convenience store, and tried to catch my breath. My head was pounding, my heart quaking in my chest. It felt so surreal, so unbelievable, so *bizarre*. I couldn't even begin to comprehend what the fuck had just happened and what I'd found out. Even now, in some ways, I *still* can't really wrap my head around any of it. My father; a quiet, kind, respected and God-fearing Christian man, along with my uncle, brought these things into our world as kids. They thought that, if the home was lost, the family would be lost, too. So they summoned the Tulpas. They brought them here so that, no matter what, the family would always stay together through them; even if they were split apart. But then they tried to get rid of them, and apparently, it didn't work. I don't know how, but my best guess is that they were bound to the house itself in some way. And for years, growing up, neither myself nor Lana ever knew about them because they were trapped in the basement. Until that night, when Uncle Don went back, possibly to destroy them once and for all. At least, that's what I'm hoping was the reason why he went back. For some reason, though, I can't shake the feeling that Uncle Don may've gone willingly. Allowed himself to be taken willingly. I feel like that might explain the falling out between him and my father. Perhaps Uncle Don wanted to join with the Tulpa, either because of some weird fascination or some sort of desperation, such as being goaded somehow by the Tulpa like I almost was at the house. I don't really know, though. What I *do* know is, Uncle Don's warning, either way, was genuine. He didn't want me to ever go back; to ever meet the Tulpas. Even if he'd given himself over willingly, he must have wanted it to end with him as well. Unfortunately, I also know that this isn't over after the house. I think a big part of the reason they wanted the three of us that day in the basement was because, while in their normal shadow bodies, they can't leave the old house. But with the bodies of Dad, Uncle Don, and even Lana, now they can. I won't leave my house anymore after I caught one of them just two days after the incident in the basement walking down the sidewalk. It was Not-Lana, and she spotted me, grinned, and walked away. They're watching me. I've already called the police and talked to them. Fortunately enough, I guess, I managed to convince them to have a patrol pass up and down my neighborhood twice daily to keep on the lookout, but I know that's about as effective (especially against *them*) as tattling on a bully in elementary school. It's been a few days now since that encounter on the street. I don't know what to do. I don't know how or if it's possible to get rid of them, but I can't go out there until I find out. I feel like its only a matter of time before she or one of the other two who can move from the house find mine and come for me and then... Then the family will be together again... Forever... r/CorpseChildGospels

in 1988, I found something in the forests of Yukon.

xuzb9f

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xuzb9f/in_1988_i_found_something_in_the_forests_of_yukon/

For centuries we as humans have always wanted to take control of the environment that god had put us on. We always felt that it was our destiny to contain the vast intellect of all of the great lakes, mountains, and everywhere in between. Our dream was to collectively understand and witness the myths that we manifested firsthand so that we could bestow upon our great grand-children the great gifts that we thought were hiding in the unknown. However, in our blinding adventures to seek out the treasures of our world, we have only discovered that the world we live in is built upon the bottom of Pandora's box. ​ At least that's what I discovered. I discovered something a long time ago that would forever begin my downward spiral into the awareness of Human triviality. ​ You shall not know me by my name, as this story will introduce myself just fine, nor shall you know the real name of the Canadian Yukon town I live in. Let's just give my hometown the name: "Stolid" for the sake of this story. Now Stolid in the 80s was having a major issue concerning the general well-being of the populous. People were demanding that the mayor attempt to contact nearby law-enforcement bodies about the growing number of missing people, and since the town was pretty small even for middle-of-nowhere standards, people believed that if something wasn't done soon then the whole place would end up being a ghost town. ​ Where do I fit into this? Well, not anywhere significant to say the least. I was just your average black-smith joe who sold tools to local arborists in Stolid, and other neighboring towns. As much as I didn't want to get into any kind of trouble with the hot-takes going on here, however, I couldn't help but feel slightly vulnerable to whatever forces might be lurking behind our backs in this god-forsaken place. So of course I would always bring a few teeny-little weapons with me wherever I traveled just to feel somewhat safe. I should've known though that a luger and a swiss army knife isn't necessarily a one-man army against the ever-looming idea of god becoming weak as man. ​ I learned that the hard way though on the 4th of December in, you guessed it, 1988. ​ That night was probably the single most tumultuous night in Stolid history. 3 more people were supposedly reported missing, and people had begun sparking up so much turmoil that they even lit a single car on fire, how ragingly passionate of them! Of course, I made the mistake of going into the center of town where most of the chaos was in the first place to buy a few parts for my job. I also just happened to be in a huge hurry to deliver a few things to a client of mine in a nearby town. Hey, at least I got to hear the stress-relieving sounds of several bullet shots at town hall in the process. ​ However, I don't remember this night for whatever the hell was happening in Stolid. I'm pretty sure you and I both know where this is going. After leaving the center of that mess I headed back to my house where I prepared for my 30-mile trip in my decrepit little AMC Pacer to whoever I was selling my shit to that night. ​ It was about 8 degrees above zero when I went outside to put everything in the back of my car. As I walked up to the driver-side door, I couldn't help but just take in the atmosphere of the night that surrounded me. The soft icy breeze stroking me like an owner does to a pet, the snow surrounding me with imaginative heat, and the moon peering through the cold clouds to shine her fluorescence onto me, a light that cemented my existence to relativity. It should've been yet another moment that brought true comfort to me, yet something still felt off, and I was about to drive headlong into the void that I felt during that moment. ​ Now forgive me for alienating you from my mindset, but unless there isn't enough moonlight, I almost never turn on my headlights during the night. There are rarely any other cars that travel by here anyways, and I always thought to myself that I could see perfectly fine without using those stupid lights, they barely even worked on my car anyways. ​ I spent what felt like 20 minutes driving on worn-out, icy asphalt roads. The engine hummed with eyebags in its soul, and the suspension creaked more than the floorboards of a haunted mansion down the endless amount of imperfections in the road, but it never bothered me. It had been doing that for god knows how long at that point. What bothered me though was that in front of me, lying on the road that I had been traveling down ever since I was 16, was a fallen tree. So doing what any sane person would, I decided to head back a few yards and travel down the forboding dirt trail that branched off the road. ​ Despite being completely surrounded by wilderness, the moon was still illuminating the environment. I could still see clearly as I was heading down that dirt path. I recall my car slipping a few times on that path, but I never lost my control of it. I assumed that I would be on that trail for a while, and thus my consciousness was beginning to make me feel drowsy. I kept on driving down the trail, but I knew that soon I wasn't going to stay awake for much longer. As I was nearly about to lose myself, however, the entire car jolted to a halt. ​ Somehow the weather was much different than I had first interpreted it. The moonlight was gone, and it had begun snowing, all of which I failed to notice somehow. Either that or I somehow fell asleep while driving. Soon I shook myself awake and reached for the keys to turn the car back on. ​ That's...when I saw it though. ​ Although my eyes had been long adjusted to the darkness at that point, it was still very dark outside, and the snow didn't really help either. Yet, despite that, I jolted back in my seat when I managed to notice the silhouette of something hanging in the trees to my right. ​ An Arachnid, the size of my car, hung itself above me with a predatorial silence. I sat there unblinking for what felt like 15 seconds, all without the spider moving once. Eventually though, I slowly moved forward to turn on the headlights of my car. With my eyes still on the spider, I very gently wrapped my fingers around the headlight switch and tugged with a mighty clench to activate the high beams. I thought it would help me see it better, that it would be beneficial to my survival, but those weren't headlights that I turned on, they were the signal. ​ The spider launched itself from the trees and instantly clamped on top of the car with its abdomen smashing the windshield. I can still remember the ear-piercing screams that emanated from my soul at that moment, a soul that was still pure with emotion and feelings. What an innocent little child I was. Within a moment I got the car into gear and swung it back down the trail, forcing that suck-a-doodle doo of an engine to scream like a banshee in agony even then though the spider stayed clenched to the top of my car. ​ I could hear the spider pounding its needle-like arms at the glass, the abdomen was spitting out webs onto the windshield as if it wasn't hard enough to see out of it with the damage it had done. And that's another thing, with the headlights on I could now very clearly see that there were webs just about all over the trees around me. The snow was clinging onto the webs, making them even more visible if the shine from my lights didn't make them so enough. ​ I was still racing headlong down the trail with the great panic-induced fear pushing me forwards to what I thought could be salvation. My consciousness had created a sphere of energy that attempted to hold in an aura of pre-conceived human feelings and wisdom and separate me from the pure unknown naturalism that shattered the man-made vessel which I had bestowed myself. With the single ounce of thought that I had left under the blindness of panic that I had built up, I slammed on the brakes, causing the spider to finally fall off of my barrier. Soon, however, the spider regained its bearing and came face to face with those piercing-red eyes against my cross-eyed lemon. ​ It was at that moment that I realized that this was the ultimate determination of my fate. A fate that would embody itself as the sheer forces of unconquered nature. I could've just sat there and let the spider tear apart my barrier and eat me up like the yoke of an egg. I could've done what pretty much embodied the true laws that governed humanity's insignificant place in this world that was set into action by our apathetic gods. ​ ​ ​ **The luger......my wrathful gateway between man, and god.** ​ ​ ​ I grabbed, holstered, and fired the un-godly invention with a precision that felt gifted. The bullet, within the span of incomprehensible milliseconds, thrashed its way, untampered, through my windshield, and executed the actions of tethering god-like entities straight in between the eyes of my first Luger Spider. ​ Ever since that night I have forever freed myself from the hopeless fleeing cries of man, and I have resurrected myself as the tamer of our nightmares, I have since then studied, and classified the creatures our gods didn't want us to have knowledge of, for I have been rewarded a position on this planet that stands above human-comprehension, and I have placed my throne as their tyrannical lord. The luger spiders are little more than the mistakes of the hell that resides within the mantle. A hidden hell that, fun fact, the Soviets tried and failed to reach. ​ The government doesn't want us to know what kind of monstrosities are happening in the town of Stolid in the present day. They don't want you to know that Luger Spiders (classified by scientists as Acanthogactus rexarus), has wiped out the population of Stolid ever since 1993, and it has become little more than a fortress for their un-thinking state of hive-mind. Finally, they don't want you to know that they have been fighting this species ever since 1993 with specially designed flame-throwers, and are beginning to run out of ideas on how to properly exterminate the entire species. ​ Pour les myopes, à travers le brouillard, **Dieu doit être un monstre.**

I think I’m in a different world.

xuulul

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xuulul/i_think_im_in_a_different_world/

I(28M) am now in a different world, I think. I don’t know if posting on Reddit will go to my world or the other. Doesn’t matter too much anyway, I bet I’ll be dead soon. I was on my way back from work, walking down the street, whistling my favorite tune. I’ve always been a good whistler. It’s a talent of mine I suppose. Then, suddenly, I saw someone — or something — in the alley way. It was crawling, and once I got closer, I saw a trail of blood. “Hello? Sir or ma’am? Are you okay in there?” I heard sobbing from up ahead, inside the dark. But nobody answered. Now, I’m no horror movie character, so I knew this whole situation was sketchy. Besides. I’ve been robbed before, and I’m not about to do that again. “Hey. What’s wrong?” I said, still from the entrance. If nobody answered this time, I was leaving. Too bad for anyone there. Especially if it’s a mute person. “M-my leg…” It was a lady, for sure, and it sounded almost like… my fiancé, Diana(29F). I did pause, but then, I went in. This lady sounded scared, and most specifically, hurt. I couldn’t just leave her there! I took out my phone, too, in case I needed to call 911. Everything suddenly became quiet. Eerily quiet. No cars drove down the road. Birds stopped chirping. And I saw Diana right there, bleeding from her leg and clutching it, crying. “Diana!“ I cried, lunging to her. What happened to her? Why wasn’t she at home with our infant, Lily? How did she get to my work route? It’s a bit far away from home, I walk to a bus station to get home. And suddenly, I was in bed, over Diana, holding her hand rather tightly. Gasping heavily. Honestly, from her view, I was probably looking absolutely crazy in my shocked, scared state. Then she laughed. Her hearty, beautiful, flowery laugh. But it almost didn’t seem like her. She usually would be concerned, not laughing, if I did this. “Hey OP, good morning.” Her French accent was a bit thicker, like it was when we met, five years ago. Confused, I got off her and she sat up. Her hair was tied up, something she never did. “What? But- I thought you were… you were bleeding, and your leg was hurt. How did we get here?” I had stammered. Again, she looked amused, not at all worried like she usually would be. “OK. Go check on Kyle, will you, you jokester? It was probably a dream, babe. I wouldn’t worry.” She added that last part because she could see the shock and pure confusion on my face. Then, Diana got up, stretched, and headed towards the door. “Wait! Who’s Kyle?” “What do you mean, my husband? He’s our son.” She left before I could ask anything else. You see, Kyle is what we would’ve named a boy Lily. But… she’s a girl. And we’re not married yet. And Diana would worry. And she never uses pet names. So… I don’t know. Somehow, I went to a different world in that alley way. And I just heard something whisper into my ear: “I’m coming”.

We're Investigating The Disappearance Of Everyone In Our Town (Part 6)

xvaqt9

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xvaqt9/were_investigating_the_disappearance_of_everyone/

[Part 1](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/ws6uv0/were_investigating_the_disappearance_of_everyone/) [Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/wy4cu8/were_investigating_the_disappearance_of_everyone/) [Part 3](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/x4keoy/were_investigating_the_disappearance_of_everyone/) [Part 4](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xb579u/were_investigating_the_disappearance_of_everyone/) [Part 5](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xi3da9/were_investigating_the_disappearance_of_everyone/) ​ October is here at last and in spite of everything, I’m still excited about it. Last post, I mentioned that I kept the skull of that shapeshifter. Since then, I’ve put it to good use as a candle holder. Yeah, I got some black and red candles and stuck them into the sockets. We even painted it. ​ ​ The left side along with its antler being the former color with the right side and the corresponding antler being the latter color. Even Stevenson agrees it looks pretty damn cool. Among other things, we made a sugar cookie pizza I saw in my dream. Good ones have been rare for me lately, so I took it as a sign. I topped it with Nutella, peanut butter, and strawberry jam. ​ ​ I also baked chocolate chip cookies topped with peanut butter. This year, I’m hoping to get baking a pumpkin pie down. I keep burning the freaking things. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong. If anyone could give me some advice on that or hell, even link a sure-fire recipe even an idiot like me could make, I’d appreciate it. Anyway, talking about my cooking ventures is fun and all, but I guess I should move on to more important matters. ​ ​ Namely, that card tree we have in the basement. None of us could've guessed what Stevenson found out about it. Early in the morning at breakfast, he came up to call us down and get a slice of the quiche I made. His expression made it apparent that whatever he wanted us to see had shaken him. We followed him and there it lay on Carl's workbench. ​ ​ Multiple tools were beside it that was covered in thick blue liquid which was presumably its blood. Seeing all this was pretty offputting. ​ ​ "Okay, so besides making yourself seem like a demented surgeon, why are you showing us this?” Carl asked. ​ ​ Stevenson, slightly annoyed, replied. ​ ​ “Just watch." ​ ​ He proceeded to use some tools to pry what I will loosely refer to as its lips apart. We could hear some ear-piercing awful noises as he did. It was like listening to countless people being tortured at once. My arms broke out in goosebumps. It was like listening to someone open up a can of what the fuck. ​ ​ As the anguished wood around its mouth that I will loosely be referring to as its lips was parting, there was a faint white light. When they were fully opened, we could see a glowing swirling mass within. It got so bright it was nearly blinding until Stevenson removed the tools, making it close. ​ ​ "Warn us to wear sunglasses next time," Carl snapped at him. ​ "The hell was that?" I asked, rubbing my eyes. ​ "I believe it's some kind of portal," Stevenson replied. "I've stuck different tools inside and it doesn't seem to have an end." ​ ​ This was shocking news. ​ ​ "So then they must've eaten everyone," Nick said. ​ "I don't know if "eat" is the right word, more like consumed. Either way, by doing so these things have most likely sent your friends and my colleagues far away, maybe to another universe. Hell, even to another dimension for all we know." ​ "To Inde's home?" I asked. ​ ​ This was a harrowing thought. If everyone was there, it meant they might've seen it, and if that’s the case, they’d be as good as dead already. Then again if there’s a word that can be used to describe our townspeople it’s resilient. We’ll never know until we finally go to where they are. The most obvious obstacle to our goal is that we don’t have any reliable way to fight Inde. ​ ​ ​ “That’s gonna be a bitch,” Carl said. “Maybe we’re going about this the wrong way.” ​ “Meaning what?” Nick replied. ​ “We’re thinking about this like we’re going to fight Inde and to be honest, I think that’s fucking stupid.” ​ ​ We couldn’t argue with him there. ​ ​ ​ “What we should do is get them out as quickly and quietly as possible,” Carl continued. ​ “Great, because the last rescue mission we were on went so smoothly,” I said. “Oh well, I guess we’ll just have to hope our luck stays strong.” ​ “That’s the spirit.” ​ “Great,” Nick yawned, “but how do we even know the card trees will take us there?” ​ “We could lower a camera in,” Stevenson suggested. “Then again that may be a bit risky depending on what it shows us. If only we knew someone who could tell us more about it.” ​ ​ The only person we could think of that would fit that bill was Zohl and we didn’t have a clue where he was. ​ ​ “Maybe we should try the library again,” I said. “I don’t think we’ve finished exploring it.” ​ “Now that you mention it, there are those symbols we found in the back,” Carl replied. “I wonder if the book mentions anything about them?” ​ ​ We flipped through it and eventually found the symbols among the invisible ink portion. From what we gathered, they seemed to be used for performing some kind of ritual after dark as indicated by the drawn stars. ​ ​ "Of course, it has to be at night," Nick complained. "What does it even do anyway?" ​ "Something important I bet," I told him. "Why else would Alice risk her life to try it?" ​ “Hang on. I don’t think that’s all of it,” Stevenson spoke up. ​ ​ He pointed to the end of the page and noted a shape that seemed to be connecting to something else. Sure enough, he was right. The following three pages showed that the symbols we saw initially were part of four sets, meaning to complete it we’d have to set up the other three. While initially, we thought that wouldn’t be that difficult, we soon realized this wasn’t going to be the case. The main challenge to that was shown on the following fourth page, ​ ​ On it were all the symbol sets with a note saying they had to be when converted from metrics at least half a mile apart and then somehow connected together. ​ ​ “So we have to do all this while those card trees are attacking us?” Nick asked. ​ “Pretty much,” I said. ​ “Well, could we maybe put down some suites first so they can’t get us?” ​ “There’d still be openings for them to get through.” ​ “Oh, right, guess we better weapon up then.” ​ ​ ​ The plan was to do it as early in the night as possible. Stevenson would be completing the one at the library and then pick us up once we did ours. We each made sure to copy down the symbols so we’d get them right. Plus, we bought some extra hand radios and offerings to place in the circle’s centers. Nick was at the power plant. ​ ​ Carl was at the town hall and I was at Formaggio’s. We need something roughly at the center of all these places and that happened to be the stand containing statues of presumably our town’s founders. We don’t know much about them and the plaque is too faded to read properly. ​ ​ “Alright, is everyone ready?” Carl asked through the speaker. ​ “As ever,” I replied. ​ “Yep,” Nick said. ​ ​ Glancing up from my spot, I could see the setting sun here at last and the all too familiar dread crept within me once more. ​ ​ ​ “Let’s hurry this up,” Stevenson told us. ​ ​ ​ We did so, drawing the symbols fast and placing our objects within them. It couldn’t be any objects, however. It had to carry some significance. For example, the pen on the first set was one Alice used a lot. Carl used an old knife he owned since he was a kid. ​ ​ Nick used an old shirt of his and I used my old Gamecube controller which contained a lot of teeth marks. I placed it in the center and waited. For what? I wasn’t sure. Then a bright orange light shot from both sides of my symbols set. ​ ​ “Do you guys see this light too?” I asked. ​ ​ They told me they did and that the offerings were acting strange. I choked on mine and much to my dismay it seemed to be melting. While this did give me some heartache, I knew it was a necessary sacrifice. The others reported the same thing was happening to them. Everything was going smoothly so far which naturally meant shit was about to hit the fan. ​ ​ Even though we knew this all too well, that didn’t stop the panic from crawling in. The first few card trees were emerging from the woods. I told everyone this and they informed me they were seeing them too. ​ ​ “How long do we have to hold them off for?” Nick inquired. ​ ​ ​ According to the ritual, once all symbol sets were created it wouldn’t be complete until the line was fully connected. If any of the sets were damaged it would stop everything so we had to prevent that for the next ten minutes. This was easier said than done especially when we were swarmed with card trees. From the front, about four approached me which I shot down. Then ten came from my left and right side which I also shot. ​ ​ ​ The thing is as prepared as we could get, we each could only carry so much. When pulling the triggers of my guns was met with clicking, I switched to my crossbow. This put me at a significant disadvantage since I couldn’t attack as fast. Back before our training, my hands would be shaking in a situation like this. However, Carl taught us to separate fear from action. ​ ​ ​ I ducked and sidestepped swinging branches. Some tried to grab my legs. I cut them away. Then I noticed one was getting too close to my symbol set. I dove at it with my knife out and leaped onto its back, stabbing repeatedly. It screamed in pain. ​ ​ Then it spoke and what it said was chilling. ​ ​ “Thank you…” ​ ​ Caught off guard by this, I failed to react in time to some more branches swinging at me. There was only time to gasp before one hit me. I let out a grunt of pain and was sent flying through the broken window of Formaggio’s and into an overturned table. Groaning, I pulled out my radio. ​ ​ "How are things coming along for you guys?" I asked, gritting my teeth as I was trying to fight through the pain shooting through me. ​ "I managed to climb up a tree, but the fuckers have me stuck," Carl replied. ​ ​ Nick, breathing heavily, spoke next. ​ ​ "Why are there so many? I've been running like a maniac and more keep-." ​ ​ He yelled and an audible thump sounded over the speaker. ​ ​ "Nick, are you alright?" I said, getting concerned. ​ "For now." ​ "Good, what about you, Stevenson?" ​ ​ When he didn't respond I got a bad feeling. I heard him screaming off in the distance and didn't have to see what was going on to know it wasn't anything good. He did respond. ​ ​ "They're looking for me inside," he whispered. "I'm hiding in the restroom." ​ "How did you mess that up?" Carl chastised him. "The only thing you had to do was wait inside and not draw attention to yourself." ​ "I was startled. There were some flashing lights above the library that caught me off guard.” ​ ​ As I was trying to think of what that could be, the card trees were coming in. Scrambling to my feet, I dashed for the back exit only to find more bursting in from there as well. At that moment, I wondered to myself why we didn’t paint suites on the buildings. It was too late. I was surrounded and despite my best efforts of slashing and stabbing, they had me. ​ ​ “Guys,” I screamed into my radio as I was being dragged away, ”they got me.” ​ “Pete, no,” Nick yelled. ​ “We’ll be over there soon,” Carl said. “Hang on.” ​ The branches wrapped over my entire body. It was suffocating and wriggled desperately in a vain effort to free myself. Eventually, my body succumbed and I passed out. I woke later with a gasp, finding myself bound to a tree and so were the others. They were tied to trees near mine. ​ ​ “You guys got captured too?” I croaked. ​ ​ My heart sank, knowing not one of us was able to get away. ​ ​ “Oh no,” Stevenson responded, “We just thought it’d be a good idea to take a walk in the woods full of things that are going to eat us. Yes, we were captured.” ​ “Ah, shut up,” Carl told him. “We’re in this mess because you fucked up. You had the easiest part of all this, but you got scared by some damn lights.” ​ ​ Before he could reply, our captors returned. We were helpless against the card trees and ny stomach turned at the sight of them. Something we’d been wondering is why they bothered dragging their victims into the woods as opposed to consuming them as soon as they were caught. The answer was that it seemed they needed to perform some kind of ritual first. Actually, it was more of a dance. ​ ​ ​ They did it in rhythm, circling around us. Honestly, if they weren’t a bunch of abominations of nature intending on consuming us, it would’ve been kind of majestic. We tried to get free. However, none of us could move freely. The card trees were chanting something. ​ ​ The language was ancient and gravelly Hearing it made my skin crawl. All at once, they stopped and faced us. Their mouths opened wide, shining blue light onto us. Sounds come from them, screams of anguish and despair. Their branches shot forward, slicing away our restraints and then ensnaring us once again. ​ ​ They lifted us up, dangling us over their open maws. This was it. A distant part of my mind was wondering if this is what everyone else in town had seen before they were eaten. If this were the case, then our hopes of them being okay were dashed. ​ ​ “Guys,” I groaned. ​ “Yeah?” Nick said, panic clear in his voice. ​ “Sorry.” ​ ​ The others were silent. We were pulled forward, only able to stare while awaiting our harrowing fate. We were inches away from them when suddenly something flew towards us, slicing through their branches. We dropped to the ground hard. My muscles ached due to how long we were still. ​ ​ As I was getting up, my bones popped and we could now see many arrows sticking out of the card trees. When they fell over, our savior was revealed. ​ ​ “Apologies for not assisting sooner, I needed to make preparations.” ​ ​ Our faces broke into grins. ​ ​ “Zohl,” Carl, Nick, and I exclaimed at once. ​ ​ He was back and unchanged except that his suit was now blue with a white tie. ​ ​ “Come, we need should discuss matters somewhere safer.” ​ ​ He helped us back to Carl’s place and shortly later, we were all sitting on the couch together. ​ ​ “A curse, hm? Well, it sounds like you’ve had quite the eventful past couple of years,” he told us. “Yeah. but we got these crystals that keep it at bay,” Carl said. “Good thing too. What we're dealing with now is bad enough on its own.” ​ ​ “I can imagine. Incidentally, that man has been staring at me for nearly six minutes straight.” ​ ​ He pointed to Stevenson. He’d been that way since the walk back. ​ ​ ​ “I’ve never seen a real-life alien before,” he whispered. ​ “And now you have, so what do you think of me?” ​ ​ Those words were like opening a damn. A torrent of questions poured from Stevenson, asking about his powers and technology. ​ ​ “Settle down,” I said to Stevenson. “He literally just got back. Give the guy time to relax. Wait, you are a guy, right? I don’t think we’ve ever asked.” ​ “My species doesn’t recognize the concept of gender. Refer to me as you wish.” ​ “Okay. so as I was saying, give him time to breathe before you jump down his throat with questions.” ​ “Where have you been anyway?” Nick inquired of Zohl. ​ “It’s a long story. I will tell it. However, I need to rest after such a long journey.” ​ ​ He was preaching to the choir. We were exhausted by the night’s events. He’s sleeping out in his ship which he promised to show us. I am fucking pumped about that. I finally get to see the inside of it. ​ ​ More good news is that when I told him about I thought saving everyone would be impossible, he told me I may be wrong so I guess there’s hope after all. We’ll know what he means soon. On that note, I better get to [sleep.](https://www.reddit.com/r/StoriesFromRose/) ​ ​ Later, [everybody.](https://twitter.com/RoseBlack2222) ​ ​ [https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/yen353/were\_investigating\_the\_disappearance\_of\_everyone/](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/yen353/were_investigating_the_disappearance_of_everyone/) (I love Halloween)

I had a Vision of an Apocalypse

xuxj5h

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xuxj5h/i_had_a_vision_of_an_apocalypse/

Dreams. Dreams can sometimes be pleasant, sometimes they are just completely random things your mind can conjure up while you sleep. Most of us forget dreams once we wake up, a majority of them. Some do stick though, I think everyone has at least one dream that stuck. From what I hear it's mostly nightmares that stick. A scary experience is what we remember, it can be completely random, or it can be due to some horror movie you watched. I didn't have so much a dream or nightmare, as I did have a... vision of sorts. Let me go back a bit, this happened about a week ago. I just came back from a visit to my mom's place, needed to help her with some groceries, she has back problems. Anyways, I get back home and I am exhausted, more than I'd anticipated. I am not a pro athlete or something, but I do have some good stamina. I also had a considerable amount of caffeine in my blood which, in normal circumstances, would keep me awake. These were, I'm pretty sure, not normal circumstances. It was Friday so I figured a quick nap wouldn't hurt. It was still early, around 10 in the morning. I do have to mention that I was on "vacation" so I didn't have to go to work. Well, my vacation was mostly lounging at home and just resting, occasionally visiting my mom or going out for a drink with my friends. But I digress, I set up my alarm clock to wake me up at around 12 or 12:30, can't remember exactly. After that I just collapsed on my bed, feeling more exhausted than ever for no discernable reason. The moment I closed my eyes, all of that tiredness just disappeared. I opened my eyes once again, I felt normal, as if nothing happened. I checked my phone and it was still 10 AM, 10:13 if I remember correctly. "Strange" I mutter to myself and get back up. I felt rested from just closing my eyes for a few moments. Wish that were the case always. I went into my living room and grabbed the remote to turn on the TV, It didn't. "Damn, I just replaced the batteries..." I muttered to myself as I threw the remote back onto the couch and went to the fridge to grab something to snack on. I opened the fridge to find it... empty. Not just empty, do you know that sound a fridge makes when it's working? Yeah, none of that. It was as if it were unplugged or something. And not only that, the fridge was slightly more to the right than I remember it being. Confused, I leaned forward on the adjacent counter to look if It was unplugged and after squinting my eyes for a few moments I saw that it wasn't. After that I decided to test something out, I tried flicking the light switch on and off. And my hunch was correct, there was an outage. That still didn't explain why my fridge was empty, I am absolutely certain that It was filled up with food and drinks a few hours ago. I checked inside once again, I even reached my hand to the back. The temperature inside was the same as at room temperature. Surely it would've been colder in the fridge for some time despite It not working for some time? Lost for any options I grabbed my phone. It was 10:20, I tried going onto Google to see if there were any local power outages or some construction in the local area which might've caused the outage... No reception, no internet connection... I checked if I was connected to my router, which of course wouldn't work without electricity. I wasn't, I was on mobile data. "I'm pretty sure the numbers on the router were a bit different..." I thought to myself for a second, after registering that the numbers on the back of the router were slightly off as well, but I had more pressing matters to worry about. I tried calling my mom to see if she knows what's going on, no reception I was just rerouted to an automated voice message... I was starting to be a little freaked out at this point. My throat was dry, I wasn't thirsty, but my throat was simply dry. I didn't have any soda to drink so I opted on drinking regular old tap water, and to my surprise, there was no running water. Then I started noticing other things, such as the fact there were no car sounds on the outside. And I can guarantee to myself my neighbor was mowing his lawn the moment I laid down and then abruptly stopped... "What the fuck is going on?" I posed that rhetorical question to myself, knowing I won't have any answers any time soon. So I decided to go outside to see what was up, maybe the neighbors had some idea of what was going on, I thought. Going outside I saw that the neighborhood was... Different. There were no cars driving around, there were no pedestrians. The cars that were parked, including my own, looked as if they weren't turned on in ages. The grass outside was overgrown, and the entire place looked as if no one maintained it in months. The sky as well was gray and cloudy, it was a sunny clear sky this morning. The weather broadcast didn't say it would be cloudy. I ran to one of my neighbor's houses and knocked on the door with no response. I banged on the door shouting for someone, anyone to open the door or just give some sort of response... None came, and my voice just echoed in what seemed like an empty world. I just sulked down the door and sat down, trying to rationalize what was happening. I slapped myself multiple times but nothing happened, I didn't wake up! Then I saw someone, I saw someone walking... limping down the road, it was a woman it seemed. She looked to be dressed in business attire. I quickly got up and shouted : "Hey! Excuse me! Ma'am!" There was no response, I thought she didn't hear me so I shouted once more, this time louder : "HELLO! EXCUSE ME!" Nothing, she didn't so much flinch at my voice or turn her head. I decided to walk up to her, as I got closer I started noticing some more details... worrying details. I noticed her suit was torn at some parts, she looked pale as a ghost as well. I stopped I would say 10 meters from her, now a bit cautious. "I- do you know what the hel-" I stopped mid-sentence, she lifted her head up toward me, still limping, inching toward me... Her eyes, her sunken eyes had no pupils. Well, she did but It looked like she had severe cataracts, her eyes were completely clouded. She groaned as she approached me, I noticed a wound on her neck. The wound was old yet It didn't heal... there was a fucking maggot sticking out of it. I stepped back, and like in a cliche horror flick tripped and fell on my ass. I was backing away but she was faster, she got closer and closer until... She stepped on my foot, well she didn't so much as step on It, as much as she stepped through It. I froze when I saw that, she, on the other hand, continued walking and groaning as if nothing happened. She acted as if I wasn't there, she continued walking, with each step she phased through me as if through thin air. I quickly got up and got out of her way, watching her in bewilderment. "A-am I dead?" I said to myself in a whisper. Thinking that some sort of zombie apocalypse happened and I was killed in my sleep... "I was confused as you were the first-time friend." I jumped in fear, turning around on a dime when I heard someone's voice behind me. "What the fuck!?" I exclaimed, once I turned around I saw a man. He was I would guess in his mid-fifties, he had a long and unkempt graying beard and I would guess messy gray hair, he had a cap on his head. He had a long dark green jacket going down halfways to his knees and dark blue jeans, slightly torn at some parts, all dirty and bloodied. "W-who are you? What happened?" I asked. "I'll answer your questions one at a time. Let me just assure you one thing. You're not dead." He said, with a slight smile on his face. It didn't seem to have malice in it, if anything it was an amused smile. "Okay..." I really didn't have anything else to add, I was a bit speechless. There was a period of silence between me and him, the sound of wind and occasional bird chirp could be heard. "Not much of a talker I see..." The man said "Alright, follow me." he added as he started walking in a seemingly random direction. "What, wait a minute. Where to? And who are you?" I asked. He turned around and gave me a smile once more "C'mon we ain't got all day and it's not like those guys can eat you." He pointed to the limping woman... zombie I guess, still walking down the street. I nodded and I started following behind him, we were walking through my neighborhood, which was now dead, overgrown, and abandoned, I saw some houses were boarded up, some were burned down, and some looked like they'd been robbed and looted a dozen times. After some time the man began to speak. "This was about a month after all went downhill. Most people were turned, no saving them, unfortunately. Electricity and water were shut off, as I believe you saw yourself." "What you're meaning to say is, that a zombie apocalypse started? When? How?" I asked. "When I had forgotten. How I don't know. It just happened one day, without warning." He continued his brisk walk as he paused, then continued: " I remember the day when I heard the news. I had woken up from a nap and suddenly people were dropping dead like flies, then they got back up. The military was overwhelmed, and governments collapsed. All went to shit." He stopped abruptly. My eyes were irritated for some reason and I rubbed them, when I opened them back up again we were somewhere else. "What. Where are we?" I asked "The convenience store, remember?" The man said as I looked around, and sure as hell, this was the store I went to regularly. Though it saw better days, I must admit, the shelves were empty, there was all sorts of junk on the floor, and a couple of corpses. What caught my attention was an old sign for Coca-Cola... It was written with a K instead of a C. "What?" I said to myself, but before I could inquire further I heard movement behind us. A small group of 4 people entered the store in a hurry. *"BARRICADE IT! NOW!"* A familiar voice shouted to the others, as everyone was barricading the entrance of the door with whatever they could, a horde of zombies was fast approaching the store. Then I realized the guy who shouted, though now with stubble and longer hair... was me. They, and I... Didn't seem to notice us, we were invisible to them. The man who accompanied me started speaking once more. "Some of us survived, barely. Their numbers were swelling by the day, no matter how many we downed another 10 took its place. Supplies were running short, we didn't know what to do. But we pushed on despite all the odds, for the simple experience of seeing the sunrise once more... We pushed on for each other." I saw myself, my other self, and the three others which I didn't recognize barricade the entrance and run toward the back of the store. One of the others was limping, it looked like he was wounded. The wounded guy called for the others "Hey! Guys!" my other self and the two others turned around, "C'mon get going!" one woman in the group said *"I'm bit! I'm fucking bit, that fucker under the car got me a few minutes ago."* Everyone looked at each other not sure as to what to do. *"I'm staying."* The guy who was bitten said. *"Don't waste bullets on me, you'll attract even more 'em here."* He added, I looked at my other self reaching for his side, presumably a pistol. Everyone simply nodded and ran off, while the guy who was bitten turned around and raised his crowbar as the horde was tearing down the makeshift barricade if you could even call it that. "Shit happens, people died." The bearded man said, then my eyes irritated once again, when I rubbed them we were somewhere else. This time we were in a town, a small town. The sky was clear, and the town itself was overgrown and abandoned. There were a few stragglers on the street, they were severely decomposed and barely walking. The bearded man started speaking once again : "Riverside's the name, a town which was once home to around 5,000 residents. Tight-knit families, a single police station, two schools, a fire department, and a shooting range. Lotsa farmland on the outskirts, and a small forest not too far from here as a nature reserve of sorts. Despite the name being Riverside, the river is about 5 miles east of the town itself." As soon as he finished his sentence I could hear car engines in the distance, I turned around to see a column of cars. As they neared I could see that they were old and beaten down, but drivable, as I could see of course. There 6 or 7 of them, and as they drew closer to me they weren't slowing down. "Oh, fuck!" I exclaimed as I tried to move my legs, but they weren't budging, as if I was frozen in one place. I put my hands up and closed my eyes, bracing for impact... which didn't come. The cars simply phased through me. "Aha... I forgot." I said as the bearded man had a blank expression looking at me, then at the cars. Once the cars stopped people started exiting. Some of the stragglers started walking toward the cars but were quickly cut down by the people, some had guns but most of them used blunt weapons. Out of the driver's side of one gray sedan exited a familiar figure, now with a full beard and rifle in hand was me... My other self that is. *"How are we doing on gas?"* My other self asked, soon another person which I didn't recognize... well I didn't recognize anyone, but I digress. *"Bad, our car's runnin' on fumes."* I saw as my other self swore under his breath. "Right, guys let's clear the area. Take anything that could be useful, food, medicine, weapons you know the gist". My other self said in a confident tone. "I can't believe I would be a leader in this kind of situation... I always thought I would be dead within the first week. Huh." I said to myself, kind of surprised at my ability to adapt and survive, to lead even. The bearded man chimed in: "Yes, I too was surprised. But you kinda get used to It, believe me..." I didn't pay much attention to him, as I did to the group of 20 or so people systemically going from building to building looting It and killing unsuspecting undead inside. "Unbeknownst to them, for now at least, is that store down the street. See it?" The bearded man pointed down the street to some small corner store, I nodded and he continued "That small store has a basement which is under lock and key, good thing that guy over there" he pointed to a guy coming out of the building with a handful of some tools "That guy is a good lock pick. And behind that locked door, and down the stairs is an untouched store of canned food, enough to last for half a year, maybe more. That was enough time to establish some kind of permanent settlement, a farm not too far from here still had some seeds, we used that to kickstart some kind of agriculture, and life seemed to be better and better from here on out." As soon as he finished his sentence time began to speed up, like a timelapse I saw people become lines in the air, moving to fast to perceive, I saw as day and night lasted for mere seconds each, I saw some days were sunny, some cloudy. Sometimes it rained, sometimes it snowed. I saw as the buildings were slowly repaired, I saw makeshift walls erected around the small town, and I saw more and more people come. I saw as the seasons came and went, I saw the harvest and I saw how the fields were plowed each year. I saw life return to normal. Time slowed down to normal speed this time, and I saw that the once abandoned and overgrown town grew to a lively settlement with people going about their lives with little worry. Though in the distance I saw a small group of people gathered around something... Rather it was someone, there were two people arguing about something, and the argument was quite heated. I couldn't tell what they were arguing about but I could see even from that distance that the people in question were an older fellow and some younger guy. The older guy seemed familiar... Long dark green jacket, a cap on his head, slightly torn jeans... Just when it clicked, \*BANG\*. The younger guy pulled out a pistol and shot the bearded man point blank in the chest. I looked to my right to see, what I would now call a ghost, the bloody patch on his jacket was on the same spot where he'd been shot. I looked back at the growing commotion that was happening, the people nearest to us were now alerted because of the gunshot, they rushed to see what happened. Though despite the shouts and overall chaos that was now happening, I could hear a woman's voice scream someone's name, shriek in pain... But not the kind of pain where she is physically hurt, no... It sounded like that time my mother screamed when she heard dad was dead, she screamed his name. But this time, the name which the woman was screaming was... It was my name. The bearded man, the ghost, whilst gazing into the forming crowd, though it looked like he was gazing through them, spoke "All living things live, and they die. No matter if there is no more room in hell, room shall be made. Every life is a story, be it in apocalypse and cataclysm, or in times of abundance and prosperity. It is always a story of life and death. One day you will awake and you will find yourself in another world. A world that is completely different from where you once were, and you will relive this story. Your world will not be gone, you will simply be yanked from your comfort and thrown into chaos like you were today. But then you will not be as untouchable." He said, turning his head to look at me. "This is the story of how I died." He paused. I felt something tug on my arms, forcefully. Launching me backwards. "This is the story of how you died." ​ ​ I opened my eyes, my alarm was blaring, and my heart was just about ready to catapult itself out of my chest. I looked at my phone and saw that it was 12:30. I quickly got up and turned on my TV, It worked, and my fridge was as how I remember It, full. It took me a good hour to completely recover from that... dream? No, it felt all too real. But it wasn't reality, something was off. Yes, there was some sort of apocalypse, zombies roamed the Earth for God's sake. But something was off. The K on the "Koka-Kola" sign and the signs on the roads were not in the same place, though withered and beaten I could see the difference. And my house... The fridge, the numbers on the router... It was as if I was in another alternate universe. And most importantly... The older and dead version of myself, what he told me was that I will be awoken in that place. That I will be thrown into chaos... Jesus, I couldn't ask him when, why, or how. Just when I felt that I calmed down, I noticed something. I looked down at my arms, to see red handprints right at the place where I was grabbed by... Something. I feel as if I am going insane, almost a week has passed, everything seems normal, the internet is working fine. The news is nothing out of the ordinary. and I can't help myself but be constantly anxious. I can't sleep, I'm afraid I'll fall asleep and wake in that... place again. ***And that I will feel that bullet one day hit my own chest, in that dirty dark green jacket.***

I am a deep sea researcher, and we've just found something terrifying.

xu78fx

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xu78fx/i_am_a_deep_sea_researcher_and_weve_just_found/

Before i start this report, i must clarify that any mention of my colleagues, their names or personal information, is to be altered for *security purposes*. I have a compromise with the truth, but also with the well-being and *safety* of my coworkers and fellow researchers. That said, this is a secret that i cannot bear maintaining for any longer. I've been a deep sea researcher for over fifteen years, and well recognized for my research collaborations among my peers. I've worked for a *certain European Institute* for the better part of my career, but it all changed three months ago. It was when me and other researchers were assigned to a new project, aboard the *Diana Resarch Vessel* \- stationed close to the geographic center of the Pacific Ocean. We all knew very little about what we were getting into; But we were sure of one thing: Whatever it was, it was *important.* The project was a global collaboration - the European Marine Board, the International Seabed Authority and the United Nation's DESA are among some of the involved. But there were many more. Still, it was all a well-kept secret: No coverage of the international media, and no questions were being asked, at least that i was aware of. There were other three research vessels, doing pretty much the same work as ours on different territories of the Pacific. I don't want to get into the technicalities of my work, the scientific jargons or the terminology, so i'll try to keep my explanation as simple as possible. I truly believe everyone should understand the importance of this discovery. As soon as we boarded the Diana, the details of the project were elaborated upon, and we were instructed into our research. We were to investigate *oceanic sound waves,* travelling through the SOFAR channel, and first reported by Kiribati Researchers mere months ago. I remember talking to my colleague *Marco* after we got our briefing, as we didn't understand the secrecy of the project. Deep sea earthquakes propagating sound waves that were caught by hydrophones were nothing new, so what was the fuss all about? Felt like our superiors knew more than they were letting us know. But soon enough we discovered why. These sound waves came from certain oceanic trenches of the *Hadal Zone*, the deepest region of the ocean. It was the zone that most attracted the curiosity of amateurs and researchers alike, as the intense pressure made exploration difficult. Sunlight was incapable of reaching those immense depths, but even with the distinct lack light, and of primary producers, life flourished even in the darkest regions of the ocean. Species of heterograph organisms were known to exist and live, traversing the dark abyss. Many submersibles had been carefully constructed over the years to explore the hadopelagic zone, but plenty were now defunct, had been lost or gotten crushed by the intense pressure. So the zone has always been a big ''unknown'', and efforts of exploration were progressing with very small steps. But now, this has changed. The sound waves that we were investigating were originally thought to be the result of profound earthquakes, but as we progressed in our research, it soon became clear that it couldn't be the cause. Because the sound followed a pattern. We studied the mentioned sound pattern for days, and got to understand why it had attracted so much attention. The phenomenon was discovered shortly after it started, but now it was being reported in different regions of the Pacific - hence the other research vessels scattered across the ocean. And all that sound was stemming from the bottom of the Hadal Zone. It repeated itself daily, almost down to the minute, for over six or seven hours (and of course, carefully compensating for the many kilometers the sound waves had to travel to reach our hydrophones) and then seemed to cease abruptly. It's hard to describe how it sounded like. Initially, it felt similar to other underwater earthquakes, but for a trained ear, paying close attention, it was possible to spot the differences. Speaking in a informal tone, it's as if there was an immense drum very deep down the ocean, being played every day. Our first hypothesis was some kind of geological anomaly, eleven thousand metres down below. We traded information and our discoveries with the other research vessels, but it soon got clear to all of us that it was pretty much impossible to determine what was happening, and why it was spreading, through analysis of the sound waves alone. We had to get down there and see for ourselves. The problem was, of course, the immense depths and the extreme pressure. Many submersibles had attempted to reach the bottom of the Hadal Zone, and suffered the consequences of it. And according to our calculations, we had to go even deeper than the international record - aproximately *11.200 meters* (or *36.745 ft)* below sea level*,* if we wanted to catch a glimpse of what was truly happening. And that also revealed to us something that had been previously theorized - there was a new, *deepest known spot* in any ocean, where the sound had originated from. The mystery of that discovery certainly instigated us, and we wanted to go further. The issue was discussed with our superiors, and not to my surprise, they had alredy considered the possibility. Our answer came in the form of *PROFUNDO*, a sophisticated ROV developed by other researchers and engineers, with technology that allowed it to support extreme pressures, and the promise that it could dive deeper than any other known submersible. It had alredy been tested, but this particular mission would fully utilize it's maximum capabilities. I remember well the day we put *PROFUNDO* to use. Our team was reunited at the control center, where we would guide it's movements as it delve deep underwater. *PROFUNDO*'s camera would record everything that it found, and we monitored it's slow descent. It would take many hours to reach the desired spot. We had carefully planned the descent, so the ROV would reach it's destination in time to caught the source of the noise. I wasn't present during much of the dive, however. There wasn't that much to see. The light from the surface could still be discerned for a while, and every now and then a curious fish would pass by. But after we reached the abyssopelagic zone, then there was mostly darkness. I remember staring at the transmission with my colleagues, discussing hypothesis. We were all eager to find out what was truly happening, so far below the sea level. The ROV was at a point in which there was no difference between water and darkness, and all that was clearly visible was the *marine snow*, organic leftovers that were a source of food for many deep sea species. We were mostly focused on our research to notice anything unusual, however, but we all got together to witness *PROFUNDO's* breaking the world record as it delve into the oceanic trench below, more than 11 thousand meters. Someone opened up a bottle of wine and we commemorated. Even though the mission was far from done, and we didn't even know if the ROV woud be able to keep resisting the intense pressure, there was this nice feeling of accomplishment. We waited for hours, and now we were closer to the origin of the sound waves than we ever had been. So the team once again reunited, not long after, as *PROFUNDO* finally reached it's destination. On the bottom of the abyss, in the sea bed. We where at the desired area, and the sand beneath *PROFUNDO* stretched across a dark horizon. The ROV was resisting well against the pressure, but we knew we should get the job done and not count our luck. It started to move. And we were all watching, carefully guiding it's movements as we explored that unknown place. However, we couldn't find anything. It was difficult to see, but there wasn't anything visible that could be the source of the noise. We were in the most profound depths of the ocean and it semeed completly empty. So we decided to wait until the sound waves started propagating again, in the next few hours. It was then that my colleague, *Erika*, caught sight of something. ''It's over there.'' - She said. - ''I'm sure of it. It's not far, about 18 feet that direction, think we could reach it?'' We could, and the ROV slowly made it's way. As we approached, the transmission seemely became more clear, and strange shapes and shadows transfigurated by the water were now getting closer. And then i saw something that i will never forget. ''Oh, God'' - Erika uttered. ''Holy shit.'' - Said Marco. And i could only stare, appalled. Couldn't take my eyes off that otherworldly vision. The ocean bottom was filled with hundreds of *gigantic human statues*. Immense figures, scattered across the dark ocean floor. We couldn't even see all there was to them, but they were undoubtedly human. Knelt down, faces fixated on the sand and arms stretching upwards, almost as if they were holding something above their heads, holding the entire ocean, like *Atlas*. The best way i can describe it, is as if they were *greek sculptures*, bald figures and without clothes, but a seemingly perfect human anatomy. We couldn't believe it. It was just too surreal. None of us expected that sight. There were hundreds of them as far as the ROV's camera could see, both figures of men and women. However, there was no sense of wonder for what could have been the biggest discovery of the 21th century. Only dread, as we tried to rationalize what we were seeing. Looking at those things didn't feel right. It provoked a strange sense of urgency, and even fear, something that i thought it was just me, but soon noticed affected everyone in the room. It was as if *we were seeing something that we shoudn't be. Something forbidden.* We were scientists, but still there was no explanation that could justify that feeling. It was all recorded, thankfully. Because after the initial feeling of surprise vanished, i couldn't bear to look at them any longer. Those immense, lifeless figures, prostrated like slaves. None of us could, except for Erika. Soon we all left but her, that wanted to continue the ROV investigations by herself. For some reason, most of the research team felt sick after seeing these statues, and we had to take a break. We had a meeting shortly after, to discuss hypothesis. Plenty of possibilities were raised, such as the statues being the remains of an ancient civilization - something that could forever change our world history, but it still didn't explain how deep they were in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, how many of them there were, and how they were connected to the sound waves. Not only that, but their size alone made that possibility unlikely - working on a quick estimative, someone proposed they should be at least *181 metres (593 ft) in height.* How could an ancient civilization build even one, not to mention those statues probably existed in the hundreds? We decided to present the recordings to our superiors, and they were as appalled with the discovery as we were. There was nothing logical about what we were seeing, and still, it existed. It was there. Many kilometers below us, in that very moment. Our discussion went on and on, as we analysed the alredy recorded footage, and semeely forgot about the sound waves and the ROV transmission Erika was still monitoring. That is, until we heard her scream. We rushed in the direction of the control room. I was one of the first to get there, only to caught sight of a terrified woman sitting at the corner of the room, face buried between her legs, trembling and sobbing uncontrollably. The screen showed only static - the transmission had been cut out, exactly after the sound waves were marked to start. And the ROV had been lost. We approached Erika carefully, but she could only tremble. Her eyes were dilated, fixated on the floor and she was crying uncontrollably. She couldn't say anything. Erika was one of the most intelligent and focused researchers that i ever knew, so serious about her work to the point of being stoic. And whatever she saw in that transmission had left her terrified beyond words. She was taken to our medical facility, and even after she stopped crying and took some pills, she still wouldn't say a word. Only look at us with a thousand-yard stare, as if her own mind was trapped deep down the ocean, along with those terrible statues. We tried to recover the recording, but it had either been corrupted or deleted. Maybe by Erika herself. Whatever she saw was lost, along with *PROFUNDO,* deep in that trench. There was no way to do a recovery effort, and frankly we didn't know how to proceed. Erika was the only one that could give us some answers, but not until she recovered. So we let her rest. But the next day, she vanished without a trace. We searched the entire ship. There was no sign of Erika, no matter where we looked. She had a husband and two daughters waiting for her back home, and now she is gone. My only fear, is that she too, has been lost to the ocean. She saw something that she shouldn't, and now it won't let her go. We don't know why the statues are down there. We don't know their purpose, or what is their relation to the terrible sound waves. We don't know why this effect is seemingly propagating itself across the ocean, and how to stop it. We are trying our best. Still, contrary to my superiors, i believe this must be known. If this is dangerous, and though we have no proof of it, my primary instincts says it so, then you all must be warned. And we must prepare. As i close my report, i must mention that all of this takes me back to a quote by Werner Herzog, that now abides by a new sense over what we've just experienced: *“Life in the oceans must be sheer hell. A vast, merciless hell of permanent and immediate danger. So much of a hell that during evolution some species – including man – crawled, fled onto some small continents of solid land, where the Lessons of Darkness continue.”*

I was the last man standing

xunbv5

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xunbv5/i_was_the_last_man_standing/

I woke up due to a burning sensation spreading to my bare skin. The floor felt hot. And hard as steel, but burning hot in the first place. As my sight focused, returning from the slumber - I’ve noticed an enraged bearded face above me, shouting something. My head ached as if it was a pinata that managed to survive the party and the vision was all blurry and hazed. ​ “What the hell happened yesterday?” - I thought to myself - “Wait… Am I naked?”. ​ “For fuck’s sake, get to your feet! It’s heating.” - the bearded face’s voice finally broke through my sluggish perception. ​ “What? What are you… Shit!” - I’ve felt that my bare buttocks and feet are getting stung by the heat. So I’ve rushed with all the speed I had left to stand straight, almost losing conscience again, as blood rushed from my head into my limp body. ​ I’ve quickly looked around: it seemed that we were inside of a room, with no windows and all the surfaces covered in sheets of metal, a massive iron door with a valve and a speaker on the wall. Apart of Beardie and me - there were 4 more naked men with us. All of them jumping from one foot to another, trying to avoid the burns from the heating up floor. ​ “What the hell, man? What’s going on here? Who are you, people? Why are we naked?” - I’ve shot all the questions at once, looking into angry and somewhat confused face of the beard guy. ​ “I don’t know. Anyone? Do you remember your names?” - he shout back over his shoulder. ​ Silence was the answer. ​ Which was interrupted by static from the speaker, until somebody on the other side picked up and tuned the mic: “Ah, so I see that my dance monkeys are up and performing. Good.”. ​ That resulted in 6 angry men screaming chaotically things like: “What the fuck!”, “Show yourself!” and “Let me out, you sick fuck!”. ​ But the voice continued: “At this point you might be thinking - why am I here, what is this place and why can’t I remember anything, right, fellas? Riiight. Well, the sweet treat I gave you should block most of the memories for… Let’s see… 8 more hours, I think. By that time, I expect you to do couple of things: one - repent for your sins and two - make it while you still last.” ​ “You psycho! Who the fuck do you think you are? A judge, Lord Almighty?” - Beardie shouted back but no response followed. ​ Meanwhile, I’ve started sweating like a pig. It was hot. Six of us were trapped in an improvised oven by a psychopath, who decided to execute his punishment on us, but what for? ​ “We’re gonna die either of suffocation or get roasted alive” - the guy behind me said. I will call him Inky, as he had a massive chest tattoo of an eagle, alongside many smaller ones. ​ “First of all - don’t panic. We should be able to find our way out if we work together”- the skinny old man replied, whom I will name Gramps. ​ “I’ve tried the door already, it won’t budge an inch” - Beardie replied dropping sweat to the ground, as he jumped up and down. ​ “You two! Any ideas?” - Gramps asked the rest of men. ​ As I’ve looked over Beardie’s shoulder I suddenly realized that one of the two guys left had only a single leg. That made it extra hard for him to avoid the heat, so his partner was holding the crippled man’s arm over his shoulders, helping him to jump together with him. Also that samaritan had long blonde hair that soaked in sweat. So I’ve named those two Pirate and Bon Jovi (don’t ask, I wasn’t thinking straight). ​ And no, no fresh ideas from those two. ​ The heat was still bearable. It burned, but like the desert sand when the sun is at it’s peak. Some minutes passed and we didn’t come up with anything. Guys tried the door couple of times again - joining forces didn’t result in anything either. Solid. ​ We’ve discussed if we could use walls somehow, but those had no broad dents or holes, which we could hold on to, preventing our feet touching the frying pan below. ​ The ceiling was out of reach too - way too high. ​ That’s where the dehydration started to kick in slowly, making my temples pound and my lips to crack - losing all that water with sweat sped up the things in rapid manner. ​ I saw Inky sucking on blood from his bruised dry lips instinctively. And suddenly he said: “I think I may have killed somebody…”. Out of the blue. ​ We all stared back at him. “The taste of blood in my mouth… It reminds me. This metallic taste, you know? I remember it. And I’m sure the blood was not mine. Mine is less sweet, or something.” ​ Everybody had to think. This didn’t explain anything. ​ “But wait… Is this the ”sin“ that jerk talked about? What does the rest of us have to do with it?” - Bon Jovi said. ​ “Well, maybe we’re a gang of mass murderers and were all involved in some slaughter. Just a guess” - I’ve said. ​ “Yeah, especially this guy over there who can’t stay straight for a minute. ” - Gramps laughed back. ​ The speaker broke our conversation with some more static and then spew out next words: “Oh, gentlemen. Having some good times, are we? I think it’s time to speed up your thinking. Let’s spice it up a bit, shall we?” ​ Jokes were over. In a course of couple next minutes I’ve felt with my soles, that the temperature went up. Now it was really hard to focus, as the steel below me was burning like a thousand of stings puncturing the harsh skin on my feet. ​ All of us started to jump even more intensively, just to stay that half a second away from the smoldering surface. ​ Lack of fresh air, dehydration, and extremely hot surroundings ripped the first victim - all of a sudden Gramps collapsed to his knees, reaching out for his chest, as if he was suffocating. ​ “Stand back. Give him space.” - Beardie rushed to the old man, raising him up, holding him over in the same manner Bon Jovi was treating the Pirate. ​ I’ve lowered my eyes to Gramps knees - those were reddish and swollen from contacting the hot surface with his tender elderly skin. ​ “I think I’m a paramedic” - Beardie said. ​ “What?” - several of us replied. ​ “As I rushed to pick him up - I got a feeling that I did this many times before. Like a job, you know?” - he said. ​ “So we have a guy who thinks he killed somebody and a guy claiming he is paramedic” - the Pirate coughed with wheezy breath. “Nice. Well, I’ll be a royal majesty then, lads” - he laughed in hoarse voice. ​ We used all our brain power, which was available to us, considering we had to jump constantly not to get burned too bad, especially considering there were two people, who couldn’t do this on their own now. It came back as nothing. ​ The crackling silence of heating air was cut in half with the sudden microphone to speaker feedback noise and the message from our torturer: “I could do this all day, but unfortunately I have other errands to care about, so how about we heat our thing a couple degrees up?” ​ That wild feedback sound gave me a numb feeling somewhere at the back of my skull. As if I’ve heard that sound many times before. ​ “I think I’m a sound technician.” - I said - “That sound the speaker made. I think I’ve heard that millions of times before. But that’s just my guess”. ​ Nobody was amused with this piece of information. It made things even harder. ​ “I think he passed away” - Beardie said soon, checking old man’s pulse. ​ Grim silence hanged in the air, as all of us stared at the skinny lifeless body twitching in tact of bearded man’s jumps. “Drop him. Let’s use his body, so others can survive” - Inky quickly muttered - “That’s our chance”. ​ Everybody kept their thoughts on right and wrong to themselves and then Beardie just let the old man’s arm go. ​ The heated steel hissed quietly as the dead flesh landed on the ground. I guess I would throw up if I weren’t so dehydrated at that point. ​ Without consulting with the rest of us - Bon Jovi jumped towards the dead body dragging the Pirate with him, putting his only leg atop of Gramp’s remains. He nodded to us as if in “I guess it’s the right thing to do” and we nodded back, without saying the word. The body below hissed more intensively as pressure was applied. ​ We were stuck in a nightmare, though we were too confused and tired to break into mindless panic. ​ “Hold, up, gentlemen. That’s considered cheating. Plus, how are you going to see the whole picture now, as one of you… well… retired? You leave me no choice. Let’s boost your thinking” - the speaker cracked through. ​ In the passing couple of minutes - it became just unbearable. I’ve checked the swollen skin on my feet - blisters started to form, which resonated with blind pain each time I landed back on the floor. The suffering was debilitating. ​ Bon Jovi had enough. He climbed atop the broiling rests of the old man alongside the crippled guy, positioning his burnt feet on the head and the rib cage, while the Pirate had his on the pelvis. Both of them balancing, trying not to fall. ​ Moments later, Inky just snapped. I think hysteria got him. He suddenly just started screaming something like: “No! No! Jesus, no! I can’t take it anymore”. Then he ran towards the two atop the corpse, intending to kick them off and take their place, but something went wrong - he fell over and collapsed to the ground. ​ What I heard next will probably haunt me for the rest of my life - that wasn’t a scream, no. That was an animal roaring in pain. Inky rolled over the floor, with bits of his burnt skin sticking to hot steel here and there, tearing away from his naked body. Wailing, crying, bellowing of pain. He tried to get up couple of times, though he slipped on the blood pouring from his numerous wounds. Until, in some confusing motion he banged his head over the steel covered wall and felt silent, leaving us with with dread feeling of impending doom. ​ As the pain became unbearable - I’ve checked that the guy was done and in a single rapid motion crossed the room, finishing atop of his back. It felt like running over razor blades soaked in acid. ​ It was becoming harder to see around, as the liquids from the dead bodies evaporated, polluting the hot air. ​ While I didn’t pay much attention to my surroundings - I was finally able to focus. Beardie was quiet for quite some time now. I’ve checked to the left and then to the right. The huge guy somehow managed to climb the door, so to speak. He had both of his roasted feet, soaking with ichor on the valve, balancing, fighting for his life. Or at least that was my perception of things, because in reality - that was still a question of “When will he snap?”. ​ And then my brain reacted to the gruesome fact - he was not battling for his life, he was alternating the ending. ​ Somehow that bear of a man was able to chew through the skin of his arms - one after another, and as the crimson stream fell down, seeming not to reach the floor, evaporating on the fly he stood there repeating: “Just not like this, man. Just not like this…”. ​ In a couple of minutes, that lasted like eternity - his eyes rolled back and his body hit the ground. The choking smell of his beard burning hit my nostrils. ​ Couple of moments passed. Three of us had nothing to say. Nobody was trying to remember. Nobody had the hope of surviving. We were just there, standing on the remains of unlucky strangers, coping with the inevitable. ​ Have you ever cut a whole baked turkey, or a chicken, maybe? I won’t ever in my life. Why? The meat produces this quiet sound of tissue ripping, when you stick the knife with pressure. That’s what just happened to Bon Jovi and the Pirate - the old man’s body cooked through. Just as horrible as it sounds - but way much worse when you see it. It just ripped into two parts, separating the spine from all the conjoining tissues. It played against two exhausted men trying to balance. So both of them flew to their backs. ​ I saw surprise and horror in their faces. They were not ready. Inhuman screams filled the room once again, while two charred bodies rolled through the agony to the Otherside. I cried silently, grieving on their souls, unable to shed a single drop of tears, understanding that this fate keeps crawling towards me. ​ “Just please, open the door. Please, let me out. I don’t want to die”- I whined to gods, celestial beings and whomever could hear me in this situation. ​ Static and then the same voice: “Well, I can’t resist if you ask nicely. Go ahead” - something clicked at the back side of the door. “You are free to go.” ​ I couldn’t believe my ears. What kind of sick joke is this? This made no sense. What’s about repenting the sins and all that stuff? But I had no time to waste. What if all of this is just a bluff to prolong my suffering? ​ I’ve carefully balanced my way on roasted flesh of Inky, making every step count, so I don’t slip off to the immolating end of being burned alive. But the distance to Beardie’s body was way too far to jump over too, besides, the charred corpse couldn’t take the pressure on impact. ​ I’ve bit my lower lip as hard as I could and ran across, leaving the skin of my soles sticking to the ground., leaving me with bleeding feet and bitten lip, but still alive. ​ Standing on the massive corpse - I’ve reached towards the valve and to my surprise - it turned easily, crack opening the door to my escape. ​ Cool air hit hard into my face, as I crawled on my four away from the devilish room through a dark corridor. It still wasn’t over. I wasn’t safe yet. ​ As I had not that many options - I just went forward. Until I got to the only source of light I could notice. There was a small room at the corridor ending, with a table, some files, a monitor, which showed the gruesome picture of roasted bodies and some audio equipment. ​ While I was catching my breath - I couldn’t but pick up one of the files. It was Inky’s. His name was Richard Addams. He was a barber, not a killer. Next came Beardie, or Ben Willis, the cook in a restaurant. The rest were - Neil Scott, ex-construction worker, who suffered a work incident; Gram Nelson - an old school teacher; and finally Josh Rudy - university student. And of course - there was I: Fillip Jones, the zoo keeper. ​ There was no connection. Our “revelations” about being paramedics and killers were just fake memories and guesses. This made absolutely no sense. ​ “You might wonder why did I do this to you?” - I’ve realized a hooded figure stood in the distance, hidden in dark shadows casted by the light on the table. ​ I wanted to answer, I wanted to ask questions, but my mouth was too dry. I couldn’t make a sound. I was exhausted. ​ “Oh, not in the mood for talking… Okay. I’ll tell you anyways”- the figure came closer. I still couldn’t see his face, as he leaned to me and said: “No particular reason”. I’ve felt the sting of the needle to my neck and the world faded to black. ​ After I’ve recovered from the hospital - I thought a lot about what happened. Police was all over the place, but with such poor data - the investigation is not going very fast. People keep go missing around the city. Somebody leaves, somebody becomes the natural disaster victims, some die to gunshots and end up in rivers and lakes, with weight attached to them. That doesn’t scare me anymore. I will never recover from being the last man standing. I’m afraid that this psycho won’t stop there. I am so afraid to wake up naked again…

I helped open a gate to another world. I will be dead soon.

xuoqzl

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xuoqzl/i_helped_open_a_gate_to_another_world_i_will_be/

Greetings to anyone reading this, I hope your day is going better than mine. My name is Eli Mathews and by the time you read this, I will be dead. I work for an energy company that the government runs and we have made a colossal mistake. A quick overview of what I am working on. Long before I began, a team of researchers discovered what they thought to be an alternate dimension that lies close in proximity to ours. They came up with plans to reach it but the technology just never advanced enough to get there. It’s like being in front of a locked door that could take you anywhere but you can’t find the key. That’s where I come in. I was contracted by the government to take part in this project. I guess they thought I fit the bill for what they were working on and when I saw the paycheck they were offering I couldn’t turn it down. After signing what felt like a never-ending stack of waivers and non-disclosure agreements I was on my way to an off-book site in Washington state’s countryside. I have a Ph.D. in physics and have published a few papers that have helped me gain a strong foothold in my field. I am no genius compared to a lot of people but I have learned how to hold my own over the years. This is why when I was offered the job I jumped at it because it seemed like a great chance to increase my knowledge. When I got the rundown of what I would be working on I felt like I had just been given the opportunity of a lifetime. I mean who wouldn’t want to attempt to reach another place outside of our universe? A place that could reveal knowledge that would blow our fundamental understandings out of the water. It made me feel like I was one of the explorers of old reaching untainted land for the first time. The leader of this whole thing was a lady named Dr. Emelia Grey. She was a physicist like myself and she had already been working on the project for a while when I arrived. She was an attractive woman around 35 years old with short black hair. She was respected by everyone at the facility and was a stern leader who knew how to give orders. After around three years of grueling work we finally had what we thought was a working prototype that could finally pull off the impossible. We decided to call it the Mayflower after the boat that brought the pilgrims to the new world. This was the sixth rendition of the gate that we created that should allow us to pass through into this new place. The previous gates either didn’t work altogether or would only hold the proper conditions for a few seconds. The Mayflower should be able to hold it indefinitely as long as there is sufficient power provided. I say this because the Mayflower consumes enough energy to power a small city. The first day of testing began. For the first test, we were sending in a rover that was made by the engineers here at the lab. This rover was made with state-of-the-art technology that made it suitable for any environment. The rover was controlled by remote control and had to be attached via cable so we would keep the connection once it passed through. “All systems checked, ready on your command,” an operator said as he looked to Dr. Grey for approval. She raised her arm and held out a thumbs up from the elevated room we were in. “Gate opening in 3…2…1!” I remember looking at the gate as the white-hot rings that surrounded the machine began speeding up and a loud hum filled the room. Then an impossibly dark portal appeared in the center. We had actually done it, the years of hard work had finally paid off. The rover we had equipped with just about everything you could think of rolled up just a few feet shy of the black abyss that awaited. There were people decked out in protective suits doing a last once over before we sent it through. They gave us the all clear and we were finally ready. The team began inching the rover forward and after a few moments the front half of the machine was through, then the back, and it was gone. There were a few applauses and people cheering, then everyone looked up at the big screen we had in the front of the room to display the camera feed. The screen showed static for a moment and then lit up giving us our first-ever view of this new place. Everyone in the room fell silent. We weren’t getting an image at all, just darkness. Then the lights switched on from the rover and we were given a few feet of visuals. This place seemed to have some sort of fog that blanketed everything. Even from the high-powered beams that the rover provided it was struggling to get through just a few feet of it. It was a place encompassed by darkness. The ground that we could make out looked almost charred like it had been scorched by some of the most intense heat imaginable. That’s when we decided to cut on the microphone. The winds in this place were so strong that they could put most hurricanes to shame. The anemometer was reading wind speeds around 160 mph. That wasn’t what was so strange about it though. The howls that this place produced sounded like deep guttural screams that were constantly going back and forth with each other like a symphony of tortured souls. I remember that they shook me to my bones and I had a cold sweat break out. I felt for the first time like we were somewhere we shouldn’t be. The rover took a couple samples of the ground and got some more readings of the atmosphere and then started its way back from where it passed through. It was getting pretty close to the portal when we heard it. There aren’t words to describe the sounds this thing made. It was so low and loud that the rover itself was shaking. People in the observatory were holding their palms to their ears in hopes of drowning out its cry. “Hurry up and get the rover back through!” Dr. Grey shouted to the people at the control station for the rover. They were frantically trying every control they had at their disposal when they looked over at Dr. Grey. “Ma’am, we are trying everything. The rover is not responding!” Then the cry came again. I looked over at the display screen and that’s when everything went black. The only thing visible now was a text that read signal lost across the screen. Some of the rover operators started making their way to the gate. “Let’s try to pull it out manually,” one of the operators suggested. There is a huge winch that can be used if control is lost on the rover. The men walked over and got to work firing up the winch. It roared to life and the cable started retracting back into the coil it was on. The thing is, after a few minutes of the cable coming in we reached the final stretch of line and all that came out was a severed cord. The rover was gone. The next few days were spent reviewing footage and going over data that the rover managed to send back before the signal was lost. I wasn’t getting much sleep then because every time I tried to lay down my mind would drift and I would hear that awful cry. That’s when they told me we were going to open the portal again, but this time we would be sending people through. The day had finally come when we would fire up the gate for the final time. We went through all the procedures as last time and double-checked everything to assure no malfunctions would take place. We were sending a team of 8 through the gate. I assume most of them were military because they all had the look of highly trained individuals. The only 2 who weren’t soldiers were scientists from the lab who will be sent to gather information. They were all equipped with suits that were made to withstand the harsh environments of this other world. The soldiers were also given rifles just in case. They won’t be able to go very far due to the fact that they are attached via cables just like the rover. With that, we went through all the protocols and the gate fired up once again. “Remember if there is any trouble everyone is to return through the gate immediately,” Dr. Grey said as she looked at the team. “You don’t have to tell me twice Ma’am,” one of the scientists responded. With that, each person made their way through the gate and we were once again greeted with the dark abyss that was a trademark of this other place. Each person was equipped with a monitor that kept track of their vitals as well as a camera to display their visuals. With everyone through they did a systems check and set off to find the rover. The trek was slow and meticulous due to the limited visuals and high winds. After about 15 minutes of traversing they finally came up to where the rover should have been. Over the com system, one of the soldiers said, “Ma’am, are you sure this is the right position?” “Yes, you should be right where we lost connection.” Dr. Grey said while checking her monitor again for reassurance. Everyone watched the big screen as we looked at the camera feeds and sure enough there was no sign of the rover. It’s not like the wind would have blown it away, it was made for practically any environment. I remember wanting nothing more than for those people to get out of there. “Alright everyone the rover’s gone, time to head back,” Dr. Grey said into the microphone. With that, they began the trek back to the portal and back to safety. Unfortunately, they never got back to it. As they were coming back that piercing cry rang out just like the last time and everyone dropped to their knees holding their hands to their heads. The suits they had were somewhat soundproof, which just goes to show how loud this thing was. “Pick up the pace everyone,” one of the soldiers announced. Just as he said that Dr. Rylee, who was one of the scientists on the mission vitals disappeared and her camera feed went dark. There was no noise, she was fine one second and gone the next. This sent the observatory into a frenzy and no one who was through the portal even noticed. “What just happened to Dr. Rylee? Her vitals and visual just went out!” Dr. Grey said to the team. They all looked around and I noticed a heart rate spike from their vital readings. “We have lost visual on Dr. Rylee,” a soldier responded, “Everyone spread out and look around. Make sure to have eyes on someone at all times, we don’t need anyone else getting lost out here.” Then the roar came again and all the screens went black. “PULL IN THOSE CABLES NOW!” Dr. Grey shouted at the crew we had ready at the winch. They pulled all the cables in and just like last time they were all severed with no clue as to what happened to the team. Then someone walked through the portal. It was Dr. Rylee, but her suit was torn almost to shreds. She should have been dead, but somehow managed to walk all the way back to the portal and come through. Everyone in the observatory froze and stared at her. “You should stay where you belong,” Dr. Rylee said in a low, torn voice that didn’t belong to her, “The place you have entered does not belong to you.” I remember Dr. Grey looked at me and I could see the fear on her face, “What happened to the team?” she asked with a shaky voice. After she said that something happened that will be forever seared into my soul. She let out one of the most blood-curdling screams I’ve ever heard. Then her body started to change. She dropped to the ground and I could hear bones breaking and flesh tearing. Her skin which was melting off was replaced by a viscous black substance. Her hands elongated and crimson claws sprouted from the ends of her fingers at least half a foot in length. Her head was morphed into something akin to a bear and sharp jagged teeth filled its mouth. What used to be Dr. Rylee began to stand up when other things came out of the portal behind her. I can only assume that it was the rest of the crew that went in because there are 7 of them. Each one turned into something just as awful as the next. The only similarities they have are the jet black skin and yellow glowing orbs they now have for eyes. Then, what used to be Dr. Rylee reached out her new arm and took a researcher's head clean off. What follows is chaos, the cries of the creatures and the rest of the people in the observatory were something that will never leave me for what little time I have left. I saw arms, legs, torsos, and chunks of flesh strewn everywhere within seconds. The creatures seemed to have one goal and that was to get rid of everyone here. Guards with guns began firing at the creatures but they seemed to only get angry at this. “We need to get to the control room!” Dr. Grey said as she shook me out of my daze, “We have to make sure these things don’t get out.” After I took a moment to regain myself I looked at her, “Let’s go.” We headed off the platform we were on and started through the observatory. The creatures were still tearing apart anyone in close proximity with no mercy whatsoever. I took Dr. Grey's hand and we made our way up to the exit doors. Just as I was about to open them one of the creatures swung at me leaving a deep gash in my left arm and I let out a scream. That’s when one of the guards started firing at the creature. It looked at me for a second more before going to rip that poor man to shreds. We made it through the door and into the control room that’s down the hall. We have locked and barricaded the door with whatever we could find, but it’s not going to hold forever. There are fail-safes in this facility in case of an accident that will lock the place down. I tried to wrap my arm the best I could using my lab coat but the bleeding hasn’t stopped yet. The control room has cameras that cover the building. I can’t bring myself to look back into the observatory, everyone’s dead. The creatures are pacing around the building and every once in a while one will walk by the room we are in. I know we can’t undo what we have done. I think we went to another world that was owned by something older and much more powerful than us and this is our punishment for trespassing. The gate is still open in the observatory and every once in a while this low cry rocks the building. I hope we run out of power before something else tries to get through. One of the things is at the door now. Me and Dr. Grey have accepted our fates. I just hope this place is secured enough where nothing will get out. The cries from the gate are getting louder now. If you are reading this, I’m sorry.

What do you do when you just can't stand it?

xuxapa

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xuxapa/what_do_you_do_when_you_just_cant_stand_it/

How many excuses had I already made up to this point? Trees scraping against wood siding, creaking boards in an already older house still aging, animals sneaking in through gaps in insulation, wind shaking the top levels of your home. All of them said to ease my mind from the strange sounds I kept hearing. ​ An incessant whispering coming from the attic. ​ "Are you okay, James?" ​ "I'm fine." ​ The words were out of my mouth before I could stop myself. I wasn't confident I was okay. I think things were getting worse because I could hardly do anything but focus on that strange whispering. Had I finally reached my breaking point? ​ "It just seems like something is off." ​ Great. Now I was worrying Mary. ​ "Nothing is wrong, just lost in thought." ​ "Well, honestly, you seem lost in thought a lot lately. You would tell me if something was wrong, wouldn't you?" ​ I don't know about that. ​ "Sure, I would you know that." ​ I could tell she was still upset, downtrodden look dragging her facial features into the dumpster. So I decided to try and solve two problems at once. ​ "Why don't we have a game night, get our minds off the week?" ​ Already her face was perking up, and I could see the competitive spirit within her beginning to boil. ​ "What did you have in mind?" ​ “How about…Stycalah?” ​ "We haven't played that in…oh…probably six months. So I have no idea what we did with it." ​ "I think it's in the attic. Why don't you prepare some snacks, and I will climb up there and look around." ​ Mary was already prancing off out of view without a second thought. Should give me plenty of time to investigate the sounds. The never-ending whispers constantly invaded my thoughts, mind, physical body, and ears. I was definitely starting to lose it. ​ I walked upstairs to the second floor, making my way toward the attic entry, a braided cord hanging down from the ceiling, begging to be pulled. The whispers were already getting louder, beckoning me to hurry inside. I grabbed the cord and pulled down hard, releasing the ladder that would let me up. I climbed the ladder with a single-minded focus, almost like I was in a strange trance. ​ As soon as my head popped up inside, I had to stifle a cough. A thick layer of dust coated a series of boxes that spread throughout the mostly empty space, now silent as my cough dispersed some dust into the air. A hazy light spread thinly through the room, enough to see but not enough for specific details. I finished climbing into the attic and pulled on the thin metal ripcord for the single lightbulb. ​ Nothing. It was dead. Of course it would be. ​ I freed my phone from my pocket and turned on the flashlight, moving boxes as I shined it around, looking for some source of the now silent whispering. What happened to it? Was it all just in my head? Or was it some summoning signal to get me into the attic? ​ I searched as far and wide as possible in the small space but found nothing. Nothing except the box set of Stycalah I had come up there for. I started across the attic toward the ladder when I accidentally dropped my phone, and it bounced down out of sight. ​ "God dammit." ​ My eyes had already adjusted to using the flashlight, so even with the sparse lighting seeping in, I was blind as I moved forward. I ambled on, moving my feet out to feel and search for the ladder, when I felt a sharp pain on the bottom of my foot. I bit my lip as I fell to the ground, stifling a scream that I knew would make Mary worry. ​ My first thoughts were a loose nail or some splinter, but I felt my heart skip when I saw that there was a piece missing from my shoe, blood dripping freely from the hole. I could see a curved indentation around the hole's edge, strange smaller rounded indentations following its edge. My eyes darted to the side as the whispering began once more, occasionally interrupted by what I could have sworn was a slow chewing sound. ​ My eyes were already adjusting to the dim light, and that's when I saw a small mouth, the size of my palm, on the attic floor, whispering incomprehensible sounds while chewing on the piece of my shoe and foot. I swatted toward my left arm as I felt a similar pinch as before and felt warm liquid trailing down as the sound of chewing grew. ​ I glanced over and saw another mouth, chewing, whispering, and perhaps growing. My head was ringing from the pounding in my chest as I tried to keep my breathing under control. This made no sense. Absolutely no sense. Mouths on wood? I crawled on my knees toward the ladder when I stopped, realizing they had the exit surrounded. Between me and the exit were several mouths of various sizes, some already larger than my head, whispering excitedly. ​ I felt another pinch on my calf and screamed as the mouths began to laugh, chewing sounds continuing to intensify as they seemed to relish the taste of my body. My eyes wildly darted around as I tried to figure out what to do. How the hell could I escape from here? I tried to think of a solution through the growing pain as blood began to pool around me. ​ It was then I saw an opportunity, even if it was brief. The mouths bumped into one another, trying to drink from the pooled blood seeping into the wood. I grit my teeth as I grabbed my injured leg, squeezing my calf and spilling fresh blood onto the wood around me. The whispering grew louder as the eager mouths flooded toward me, giving me just a moment to throw myself forward through them. ​ Even as my body rolled rapidly toward the exit, I could feel them nibbling at me, tearing chunks from my side, back, and stomach. I kept screaming as I rolled and fell through the entrance to the attic, landing on the second floor with a loud thud. I glanced above me and saw the whispering continuing, quieting, but still constant. Finally, I forced myself into a standing position and pushed the attic entrance closed as hard as possible. ​ I could hear steps coming up the stairs nearby and Mary's voice echoing toward me. ​ "Everything okay, James? I heard a loud bang." ​ "Eve… everything's okay…love…I just…had a small fall." ​ "Do we need to go to the hospital?" ​ "No, no…no, everything is fine…just going to soak in a bath for a bit… I'll be downstairs soon." ​ There was a long pause before she finally responded with a brief okay. I knew she was not satisfied, but I couldn't let her see me like this. I couldn't let her get anywhere near the attic. I managed to crawl toward the bathroom and turned on the tub to help fit my story. Blood was still leaking from the wounds resulting from being bitten by those things. ​ As I bandaged myself, I realized that the whispering was getting quieter until it finally disappeared. I still felt on edge, though, wondering what had happened— if we were safe here. And wondering why all of the wounds were itching so damn bad [on top of the pain.](https://www.reddit.com/r/readThomasGrey/)

There's a ghost named Casper in my room, but I don't think he's friendly.

xutwy5

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xutwy5/theres_a_ghost_named_casper_in_my_room_but_i_dont/

(Trigger Warning) I thought we got lucky. Like, really lucky. My best friend (Maddie) and I both got hired by Apple! It was our dream job; we'd be working at the HQ in San Jose. We were pretty worried about finding a place to live, especially since San Jose's kind of infamous for being a pricey place to live (and that's coming from someone who lives in San Francisco!), but we found a nice two-bedroom apartment twenty minutes away for just two thousand a month! It seemed too good to be true, so we were honestly preparing ourselves for disappointment, but when we got there it really blew us away! The complex was in a quiet residential area in the Saratoga area, and our apartment was on the first floor, with a nice patio facing a park across the street. When the landlord gave us a tour, I didn't believe what I saw. The bedrooms were really big and nicely carpeted with plenty of electric outlets, and the master room even had a walk-in closet! The kitchen was wide, with plenty of counterspace, and there was even a washer and dryer in-unit! So obviously, we'd signed the lease almost immediately. Can't let such good luck pass us by! It was like a dream come true. After years of trying and failing to get a decent job, we applied to Apple on a whim. Neither of us thought we'd actually get hired, but then it happened, and our whole world changed completely. On the day we moved in, I was thrilled to finally be doing what I'd always wanted to do. Maddie's dad rented a big U-Haul and helped us move all of our furniture from our parents' houses. He might be on the older side, but he's still got it, that's for sure. He did all the heavy lifting for us, with some help from Maddie's younger brother Ryan. We did the move two weeks before the start of the fall semester, so their dad suggested he tag along for the week. Maddie apparently offered him a sleeping bag, but he said he was fine sleeping on the couch. My couch is really comfy tbf. Once everything was set up, Maddie talked with her dad outside for a while, then stepped inside, a bittersweet smile on her face. She stretched her arms and took a deep breath. "How's it feel?" I asked. "You've finally got your own place!" "It feels exhausting," Maddie admitted. "There's still a few things I want to check before I can really get settled in." "You worry too much," I sighed. "I concur!" Ryan chimed in, stepping inside behind Maddie. "How about this, then? I'll run to the store and grab some wine, and maybe a board game. Why don't we just kick back and relax tonight?" Maddie seemed hesitant. "Honestly, if you want to check more stuff, just do it tomorrow. We've been busy all day anyway, and it's getting late," I pointed out. "You literally just said you're exhausted, right?" "I did say that," Maddie conceded, pursing her lips. From her tone of voice, I could tell that she was still stressing about the move, but there was a hint of resignation in there that told me she'd conceded. "Awesome! I'll head out now, then," Ryan announced. "Alison, wanna come along? I could use a woman's touch when I pick out the wine." "You're too young to buy alcohol, aren't you?" I asked, confused. "I just turned 21 a few weeks ago, remember? It's fine!" Ryan reminded me, turning on his heels and pulling the door open. "You coming?" I shrugged. "Sure, why not?" I decided. Ryan grinned mischievously, and stepped to the side, holding the door open for me. Our excursion took a bit longer than I'd expected. Ryan took his time wandering around the stores, chatting with me the whole time. "I've seen you around all the time, but we never actually get to talk," he'd said as we browsed the board games. "It's too bad, you know? I like you, you're cool." In that game, Ryan picked out a few games he thought would help us get to know each other a bit better. Stuff like *Apples to Apples*, *What Were You Thinking*, and the classic *Cards Against Humanity*. It was looking to be a fun night. When we got back to the new apartment, we were greeted by an odd clicking sound. Odd to me, at least, but Ryan just got excited. We followed the clicking to my room. The door was open, and Maddie stood in the center of the room, holding up a small handheld device. "What're you doing?" I asked, bemused. Maddie jumped, startled, then walked over to me and showed me the device. "I knew it!" Ryan exclaimed. "Ryan, don't start, it's nothing like that," Maddie said sternly, then looked at me. "What is that?" "An EMF meter," Maddie replied. "It tells me the levels of ambient electromagnetic fields in the area." "Yeah, I'm totally lost." "It detects ghosts!" Ryan interjected. "EMF readers are a staple of any self-respecting ghost hunter!" "Don't be ridiculous," Maddie interrupted. "The pricing just felt really strange, so I wanted to make sure there wasn't something we wouldn't be able to see that would cause them to lower prices." "Like a gho—" "No, Ryan!" Maddie snapped. "EMF readings can be caused by faulty wiring in the walls, you know. Electricians use these meters all the time as a safety precaution. I checked for radiation, too." Maddie raised up her other hand, which held a bulky yellow tablet. "A Geiger counter?" I gasped. "Don't you think you're being a bit too paranoid?" "No, because I found something," Maddie declared. She shifted to the center of the room again, then raised up her EMF meter. The clicking sound started up again. "It's a ghost!" Ryan yelped. "It has to be! You're literally in the middle of the room, there's no wiring in thin air!" "Ryan!!" Maddie shouted. "Use your brain! Ghosts aren't real! This just means that the wiring is emitting so much EMF that you can detect it from the center of the room. That could be a serious problem!" "Damn it, Maddie, you…" Ryan grumbled, glancing offhandedly at me. "Well, fine, maybe that's all it is. But so what? A little magnetism never hurt anyone." "It's not the electromagnetism I'm worried about," Maddie clarified. "It's the wiring. If it's that bad, it could be a fire hazard. I'm definitely calling maintenance tomorrow and having them check. I'm not getting scammed." "It's fine, it's fine!" Ryan insisted. "God, you're always like this!" Maddie tensed up at that, and looked like she was about to scream him into deafness. "Hey, uh, why don't we open the wine and play some games? It's been a long day," I interjected awkwardly. They both looked at me; Ryan's eyes instantly lit up, and he turned back to Maddie. "Yeah, Maddie!" he added. "Just chill out! Leave the paranoia until tomorrow!" Maddie opened her mouth to object, then sighed, visibly loosening up once more. "Alright, fine…Forget it, let's just go." Is that kind of fighting normal among siblings? I guess it has to be, since they seemed perfectly fine just a few minutes later. The rest of the night was pretty fun. I'm like 90% sure we didn't play the games correctly (I blame the wine!), but whatever, we had a good time. Maddie went to bed first; she's definitely an early bird, so she likes to go to sleep early, AKA before midnight. I was super sleepy, but Ryan just kept talking. I don't really remember what it was about, but I do remember cutting him off to go to sleep. The hangover sucked. Yes, I got drunk on just a couple glasses of wine. Yes, I'm aware how pathetic that is. I'm a skinny girl who almost never drinks, okay? Don't judge me (¬\_¬) Anyway. An electrician came by two days later, but he insisted that there wasn't anything wrong with the wiring, and it was perfectly safe. Maddie was still skeptical, though, so she suggested calling an independent electrician, "just to be certain." I convinced her not to, after pointing out that it would be a waste of money if there really was nothing wrong. She really does get caught up on these sorts of things. Which is better than being too lax, I guess, but balance is important, you know? The next few days came and went. We spent one day cleaning, doing groceries, and other housework like that, but the other days were spent sightseeing around San Jose. It's a super nice area, and there are some fancy restaurants, too. Not very affordable, but that would change once we got our first paychecks. Ryan actually bought me a gift on his last night! I figured it must be a board game, based on the shape of the wrapped box. He waited until Maddie went to sleep, then presented it to me just as I was about to go to bed. "Aww, thanks, Ryan! That's so sweet!" I said gratefully, then put the gift down on the table. "We can unwrap it in the morning, so Maddie can see it too." "Why don't you open it right now?" Ryan suggested. "It's late," I pointed out. "Plus, Maddie's already sleeping." "Just trust me," Ryan said, smirking. "Maddie wouldn't really like it." I thought his remark was weird, but my curiosity had been piqued, even more so than my sleepiness. I slowly unwrapped the gift, then pulled out the box. It was a Ouija board. "What the…" "Aren't you curious?" Ryan said. "It'll be fun." For context, I didn't necessarily believe in ghosts, but I didn't believe they weren't real, either. I was pretty neutral, I guess; I'd just never thought about it before. It's not like I'm super religious, but the thought of ghosts and spirits still made me uncomfortable. But I figured that if this EMF anomaly or whatever was a ghost, it would've done something by now. We'd been here a whole week, after all. Kids used Ouija boards for fun, anyway; they're literally in the toy aisle at Target! "Sure, why not?" I conceded. As weird as this felt, I wasn't totally surprised; Ryan had said during one of the games that Halloween was his favorite holiday, so this kinda fits him, honestly. "Yes!" Ryan exclaimed, then covered his mouth. "Sorry…I shouldn't be too loud. My sister's asleep. Come on, let's set up where our ghost's presence is strongest." I nodded, and led him to my bedroom, switching on the lights. Ryan came in behind me, carrying the Ouija board. "You guys have any flashlights or candles? You know, for ambience," Ryan inquired. "Uh, maybe? Maddie might have a flashlight, but she's asleep," I replied. "That's too bad," Ryan mumbled. "Oh well, we don't need them!" He sat down cross-legged in the center of the room, right beneath the lights. I sat down across from him as he pulled out the Ouija board from the box, unwrapping it and setting it up between the two of us. It was made of a light-colored wood, engraved with words and letters and numbers. "So how do we play, exactly?" I asked. "It's not a game," Ryan whispered ominously. "Don't call it a game; the spirits will get mad." "Haha, very funny—seriously though, how does it work?" I continued. "We set the planchette—the little wooden triangle—on the board and move it around a bit to warm it up," Ryan explained. "We both lightly put our hands on it. I say some stuff, then we can ask questions. I'll be the main questioner or medium, so I can show you how it's done." "Uh, okay," I mumbled. He set the planchette down, then slowly dragged it in a circle around the wooden board, scratching against the wood. He circled the board once clockwise, then once counterclockwise. "Negative spirits are not welcome here," Ryan intoned. "This session will only welcome positive energies." He then looked at me. "What should I ask first?" "Oh, uh…is anyone here?" I replied. "Is there anyone here?" Ryan echoed. We sat and watched the board…and watched…and watched…… "It's not moving," I observed. "You're supposed to move it, aren't you?" "What? No," Ryan objected. "The *spirits* move it." "So ask it something else, then," I recommended. Jeez, this was his idea, wasn't it? He didn't set this up just to let me down, did he? "Will you speak to me?" Ryan asked. We watched the board…and then the planchette moved. It *moved*. Our hands were still touching it as it slid roughly across the board. NO. "Looks like it doesn't like me," Ryan said lightly. "Maybe you should try being the medium. It's your room, after all." "I don't know how." "You just saw me do it," Ryan pointed out. "Just do what I did." Oh, I get it. He wants me to feel like I'm in the lead. Ryan looked down at the board, then pushed the planchette to the "goodbye" marker at the bottom of the board, lifting his hands. "There we go. Always say goodbye, even if you didn't get a response. It's polite." He turned the board around, facing me. "Your turn." "Um, okay…" I mumbled, setting my hands down on the planchette. Ryan set his hands down after mine. "First, you warm it up," Ryan reminded me. Nodding, I moved the planchette around in a loop. It was surprisingly light, and ran across the board like butter. I did another loop; he had done two loops, so I figured I'd do the same. "Now you repel evil with a warning," Ryan whispered. I nodded again. What was it he'd said before? "This is a positive space," I recited. "Evil spirits are not welcome here." I looked at Ryan. "…Did I do it right?" Ryan nodded approvingly. "Now we ask it questions." "Alright," I replied. "Um…Will you talk to me?" We watched the board for a moment, then the planchette began to move. A sudden chill went down my spine, and I could hear the quiet hum of the air conditioning. Some timing; the vent must be pointed right at me. The planchette came to rest. YES. "It's listening," Ryan observed. "It likes you." "Okay, cool, so…I mean, what should I even ask it?" "Whatever your heart desires," Ryan said, smiling. Wow, how helpful. "Alright," I said. "Um… Do you like me?" Again, the planchette moved, and again, the chill. YES. "You don't have to stick to yes-or-no questions, you know," Ryan pointed out. "You really can ask it anything." "Oh, got it," I said. "In that case…how about your name? What is your name?" After a moment, the planchette began to slide across the board, spelling out a name. C-A-S-P-E-R. "Ha!" I laughed. "Casper the friendly ghost!" "That's adorable! You've got your own ghost boyfriend!" Ryan teased. "That's just weird," I remarked. I know he meant it as a joke, but just the thought is kind of disturbing. "Ask it, then," Ryan suggested. "…Are you my friend?" I asked. I wasn't about to entertain Ryan's "ghost boyfriend" idea, so I went with something more neutral instead. The planchette began to move again. YES. "See? Told you!" Ryan affirmed. "When were you born?" I asked. More movement, after a short pause. 1-9-4-5. "Do you live here?" YES. I paused, trying to think of another question. Well, if it's supposed to be a ghost, then it should be able to answer ghost questions, right? I'm sure that's what Ryan was expecting, anyway. "How did you die?" "Woah, that's intense," Ryan remarked. "I feel like—huh?" The planchette began to move again, spelling out an answer. S-T-R-A-N-G-L-E-D. "Brutal," I commented. "Alright, next question: when did you die?" 1-9-6-8. "Okay…Where did you die?" H-E-R-E. "Wow," Ryan mumbled. "I'm impressed," I replied. "You came prepared." "That…wasn't me," Ryan stammered. "That was Casper." Hearing him say that made me shiver, if only for a moment. "If you say so," I said dismissively. "Alright. Can you show us that you're really here?" "Ooh, you don't want to ask those kinds of questions," Ryan warned. "They invite unwanted activity." "Too late," I said, and the planchette began to move. YES. At that moment, the lights flickered, and the room went cold. I yelped in surprise, nearly falling over. "Woah, woah!" Ryan exclaimed. My heart was hammering in my chest as a sudden fear flooded through my body. "OKAY! I'm done, I'm so done, I'm SO done with this," I decided. I dragged the planchette over to "goodbye," then kicked the board away. Ryan looked concerned, and scooted over to my side. "Hey hey, it's alright, it's just a game," Ryan said calmly. "You said that wasn't you!" I snapped. "Well, yeah, because it wasn't," Ryan said. "THAT'S NOT HELPING!!" I shouted. "Relax, relax! It's nothing paranormal, I promise!" Ryan paused, gazing into my eyes with a sincere expression on his face. "It's this neat trick with your brain, see. You ask a question, and your subconscious causes little muscle twitches that make you move the planchette. That's all it was, really. Kids do it all the time. It's even used in therapy." "But the lights and the cold—" "The air conditioning kicked on, that's all," he assured me. "It probably caused the power to flicker for a second. Old building and all that. Look, I know I'm always talking about ghosts and stuff, but none of it's real, alright? I just think it's fun. I didn't think you'd actually get scared." "I…" I paused. All of a sudden, I felt a wave of embarrassment run over my face. I'm an adult; I'm not supposed to get scared by a little kids game. I let out a nervous laugh. How could I be so silly? I was broken out of my thoughts by Ryan's warm, gentle touch on my shoulders. "Forget about the board, Alison…Why don't we try something else?" he whispered. I could feel his breath on my face. And then… He was kissing me. Maddie's little brother was kissing me. "Woah!" I exclaimed, pushing him back. "What're you doing?" "Just trying to show you that everything's alright," he said, leaning in for another kiss. I pushed him away, then scrambled to my feet. "No!" I declared. Ryan stood up, taken aback by my sudden outburst. That's why he wanted to stay the week. God, I felt so stupid. I've always just seen him as Maddie's little brother, I never thought he'd try something like this. "What's wrong?" "You tried to kiss me just now!" I pointed out. "Sorry…Not in the mood, I guess?" he asked innocently, chuckling. "Well damn, there go all my hopes and dreams." "NOT IN THE—" I took a deep breath. "You're Maddie's little brother!" "It's not like I'm *your* little brother," Ryan pointed out. "Stop—just no!" I continued. "That's why you waited for Maddie to go to bed, isn't it? That's why you wanted to stay the week? That's why you got me that gift?!" "Well, to be totally honest, I've always kinda liked you," Ryan confessed. "I've known you since you were, like, five! This is just weird!" "It doesn't have to be," he said softly, stepping uncomfortably close to me. "Besides, this is just between us…" "Ew, no! I said NO!!" I yelled, shoving him back with a bit more force than I'd intended. "No means no!" "It's fine, I promise—" "Get out." I was seething with silent fury by then, and having him alone with me in my own bedroom was making me increasingly uneasy. "But—" "GET OUT!" I screamed. He backed towards the door, carefully avoiding making eye contact. "I… Sorry, Alison. I screwed up," he said sheepishly, slipping out the door and leaving me alone in my bedroom. I don't remember what I did after that. I just remember waking up with a headache and a guilty conscience. Maybe I overreacted. I've only dated once before, and the guy was super shy, so maybe I'm just not used to guys being more assertive. It's not like I hated Ryan, either; I've always sort of seen him as my own little brother. It's just that the thought of us being together like *that* feels icky to me. So I went and apologized. When I left my room for breakfast, Ryan and Maddie were both finishing theirs. I waved awkwardly at them, then threw some strawberry Pop Tarts in the toaster. Maddie left to use the bathroom a moment later, leaving me and Ryan alone. "Ryan…" I greeted quietly. "About last night…" "It's fine," he said quickly. "No, it's not that. I just…I might have overreacted a bit last night. It's just that…I know you're not actually my brother, but I've always felt like you're family. Like, Maddie's always been a sort of sister to me," I explained. "I just wanted to apologize. For yelling like that." "Really, it's fine," Ryan replied, his expression growing serious. "I shouldn't have acted the way I did. I'm sorry."We both stood silently together as what was probably just a few seconds seemingly stretched into a few hours—until Maddie emerged from the bathroom, breaking the stalemate. She made a joke, we laughed, and the next few hours before Ryan's departure went perfectly. I thought that was the end of it. By midday, I'd already forgotten about last night's events. I'd forgotten all about Casper and the Ouija board. Until the voicemail. That night, I found Maddie sitting quietly on the couch. She wasn't watching TV, or on her phone, or anything; she was just sitting there. When I asked what was wrong, she pulled out her phone and played a voicemail. It was from her mom. "Hi Maddie," she greeted. Her voice sounded weak, distraught. "It's about Ryan…He got into an accident. A bad accident." She paused, sobbing. "He's alive, just barely, but…the doctors say there's serious brain damage. The air bags blocked the doors, and the seat belt was strangling him, and if they hadn't gotten him in time, he would've…" She trailed off. "Just…please, call me back." *Beep*. I don't remember what I told her after that, because there was only one thing on my mind: He was strangled. Just like Casper. That can't be a coincidence. And Casper confirmed my suspicions. Right around midnight, I pulled out the Ouija board again and spoke to Casper, just like Ryan and I had done the night before. And I came prepared. "Did you do it?" I asked, my voice shaking, hoping against hope that this was all just a game, and his accident was just a coincidence. But then the chill returned, and this time I knew it wasn't just the air conditioning. YES. "Why?" The planchette started moving, so slowly it was agonizing. P-R-O-T-E-C-T. "Protect who?" I wasn't sure I wanted to know the answer. Y-O-U. "I don't want your protection!" I declared. "It was fine! We were fine! We moved on!" To my surprise, the planchette began to move in response. NO. My heart stopped. "No? What do you mean 'no'?! I was a bit annoyed, sure, but God, I didn't want him dead!!" There was no response. "Please leave him alone!" The planchette slid again. NO. "LEAVE HIM ALONE!! Why are you doing this?! What do you WANT?!" A moment of stillness, then the planchette began to move again, spelling out a word that, in any other circumstances, would have been reassuring. But now? It just terrified me. J-U-S-T-I-C-E. — I don't know what to do. I'm scared Casper's going to kill Ryan, and I'm not sure there's anything I can do to stop it. Apparently Casper wants to protect me, but if his "protection" is just code for "kill anybody that even slightly annoys me," then I really, really don't want it! God, what am I supposed to do?!

I brought a radio home from work now im being hunted by hell hounds

xuy4m8

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xuy4m8/i_brought_a_radio_home_from_work_now_im_being/

this happened two nights ago and im a bit lost so I suppose I should just give context. I had just finished my bleak as fuck shift at work. I was so tired leaving I forgot to turn in my walkie talkie that I had comfortably forgotten I had clipped to my belt. no biggie right, no its a massive fucking biggie I just figured hey I’ll go in on my 1 day off tomorrow, sure my uptight boss might get a bit annoyed but sure they have plenty surplus. so, I didn’t want my plans consisting of a glass or bottle of merlot ruined by this minor although bothersome conundrum so I started drinking and turned on rings of power. about 30 minutes in the walkie talkie started to give off static. Of course this frightened me out my skin for a quick second but it soon passed so I just summed it up to picking up a random signal. It soon slipped out of my mind, so once another unsatisfying episode ended, I pulled my bed sheet over my shoulders trying to escape the cold and the merlot did its job of making me drift into a cosy alcohol induced coma. only to be awoken again by more static, by this time I was warm and comfortable so my frustration was immeasurable, eventually giving up on my attempt to sleep through it I got up and took the batteries out as I needed my beauty sleep. I was then woken up yet again more angry than ever but something about the static sounded off. ehm how do I put it I guess if I had to pick a word it would be, energetic? ya that’s the right word for it energetic. I got up to take the batteries out. only to catch myself in a sudden moment of horror pulling me out of my all to comfortable and tipsy grog. the tension stiffened me I felt my self-get hot and like every stupid ass horror movie victim I reached for the walkie talkie it was hot to the touch. Not just hot but like hot hot. like a cougar after lingerie shopping hot. I pushed the button and in some hope of using comedy to relieve some of the tension I did my best impression of radio static back into it followed by a "HUH not so funny is IT!!!" after I let go of the button and let out a nervous awkward chuckle it remained silent for a second until a faint "hello, hello can you hear me" the voice was young not quite a full blown child maybe like a young teenager like 13 or 14. "please answer me" the voice was desperate so I responded. "He-hello, how are you talking to me". radio cracked alive again it made my skin crawl I swung my head side to side to see if I was still drunk not that it would make me feel any better my little test conclude with a strong yes. from here on out since I don’t know who she was I will instead refer to her as radio. Radio respond with a "oh thank god you’re real I’ve been trying for weeks to get someone" "i pressed down, what do you mean and how are you talking to me there’s no batteries." a simple low voiced response came through "shit". I was about to ask how but she came back through almost yelling " put the batteries in and hide, they know where you are and they will find you so listen "I went to press the button again but something stopped me some primal urge or third eye or maybe it was the god damn spaghetti monster stopped me. I shoved the batteries in and responded. "ya there in, what did you mean there coming for me, who’s coming for me. the CIA the Feds who!". " no nothing like that just dont be dumb and youll be okay, and by dumb i mean do anything i don’t directly tell you to." i responded "ok WHAT DO I FUCKING DO" she respond with words through clearly gritted teeth "GIVE ME A SEC-ONED,,, Ok go to ur attick take the turn key with you hide on one of the beems behind the boiler u need as little path way to you as possible use the old christmas decorations to cover the walking boards". "wait how did you know about the" she broke through some how getting her own signal "havent you been listening GO NOW" i followed as ordered grabbing my phone as i did so the attic was dusty the insulation irritated my skin where my fingers slipped in crawling on the beems. "ok im here what now". radio responded "be as quiet as possible they have good hearing even better sight keep the lights off i cant risk contacting for now, if you survive them i will call you in 3 days dont respond anymore" i was about to put the radio in my pocket when a light crackle came through "i hope you survive for both our sakes goodbye" and at that silence. i stayed quiet as ordered for about an hour, well i think an hour i was keeping my phone off it could have been less or more. i was expecting a cop raid on my house but that would have been better it would have been so much fucking better. it started as a low growl beneath the growls were similer to gurgling but with more teeth if that makes sense like a deep pur with a hint of wet anger i was hiper fixated on the attic opening when a big bang on the roof came through and then the clacks of footsteps on the tiles eventually every direction around me was filled with thuds and growls and the occasional clomp of teeth. my heart raced so fast i would have failed a medical test through heart rate alone i was scared they would hear my breathing so i started holding my breath but this only exacerbated my breath each time my weak ass body gave in to its need for oxygen the breaths became heavier. eventually i heard rythmic thuds a bit ahead of me I felt weak when I realised it was underneath the attic hatch. until a creek of light came through they had pulled the sting for my attic down revealing the flooding light into the attic i turned away leaning my back against the boiler its heat burning through my hoodie. i covered my mouth and stared at the opposite wall the thing jumped up and the rest of the noise disappeared around me all that was left was the distinct clack of nails on the wood walk way and low growling as it patroled up and down it grunts getting frustrated, all the while my breathing through my nose simultaneously became hastened as the skin on my back went from first to second degree burns. the creature leaned its head past the boiler its breath moving my hair it was disturbingly similar to a horses breath. tears rolled down my face and snot built up on my hand I felt a shine of acceptance come over me as its putrid breath reeking like an emptied fridge filled with shit was left in hot summer weather. but a final blow of air came out and i heard it scamper away my body went limp. i stayed where i was only readjusting my back from the boiler for another few hours until finally deciding to to grow big enough balls to leave the attic by the time I got down it was around 12am , i don’t know what happened or if it was all some hallucination or worse a military experiment. all i know is ill be sleeping in my attic for the foreseeable future. please if ye have any idea what is going on please let me know. I will make another post if i do get the call tomorrow.

"Don't look behind you 'til you get to the other side!"

xujfw8

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xujfw8/dont_look_behind_you_til_you_get_to_the_other_side/

The Ochre Falls State Reservation. Folks around here call it Ochre Falls, or just the Falls, but after what happened yesterday, I did some Googling. Established 1926, after the land was purchased from the wealthy family that owned a lumber mill here at the turn of the century. 400 or so acres, with a playground on one side, a small pond with a swimming area and picnic tables on the other, and between them, forest. Not wilderness, though: tame, settled woods, veined with well-maintained trails where people walk their dogs and go for morning runs. And, flowing through them in a crooked bend, a section of the Ochre River, host to the falls themselves somewhere upstream. Ironically enough, the reservation was part of why I settled on my new apartment in the first place. After college “didn’t work out” (as my mom puts it), the plan was to find somewhere dirt-cheap to live and a job to get by on and start figuring my shit out from there. I could have gone anywhere, I guess, but without any direction or the money to get very far, I ended up choosing a quiet suburb just a couple towns over from where I’d gone to school. The job part was pretty easy: it’s an employee’s market, and when I confirmed that I could work an espresso machine, the owner of the diner downtown hired me on the spot. The apartment I found is a hideous little box with carpets that smell like cigarettes, but I’ll be able to afford it and it’s a one-bedroom, which suits me fine. And, as I discovered when I first looked up the address, it’s located right on the edge of Ochre Falls. My therapist back when I was in school (since I dropped out I can’t afford a new one) had suggested more than once that more exercise and time out in nature might do me good. I've recently been coming to terms with just how much of my life I’ve wasted stoned on a couch watching cartoons while depressed out of my mind, and looking at the pale green blotch on the digital map that represented the reservation, I decided I was ready to give exercise and nature a try, if I could only work up the motivation. Plus, this town is like most places in the US: there are hardly even any sidewalks, and it’s almost impossible to get anywhere without a car. Except, as my GPS informed me, by way of Ochre Falls. If I cut through the reservation, my new job, and the rest of downtown, are all just a 30-minute walk away. It turned out to be a lucky thing, too. My twenty-year-old Subaru barely made it through the move before giving up the ghost, and the mechanic said I’d be wasting my money trying to get it running again. Dad said he’d help pay for a new one, but we both know he and Mom are barely scraping by as it is. *Here’s that motivation you asked for, Jess,* I told myself as I watched them haul my old car away. Until I could save up enough for some new hunk of junk, I’d be walking. I start my new job on Monday, and I’d planned to spend this weekend unpacking. But as it turns out, I don’t own much. It only took a couple hours to put everything in the moving boxes away into cupboards and dressers and to hang up my few decorations, and by mid-afternoon yesterday, I found myself with nothing left to do. I tried sitting down with my journal (another holdover from therapy) to write down my feelings about the move, but found that I was mainly just relieved that it was over with. I spent some time on the couch fucking around on my phone, but pretty soon I was bored, and more than that, antsy. I’d spent all day cooped up in this apartment, which I’m not crazy about to begin with. That was when I had my bright idea: why not take my first walk through Ochre Falls? Not only would it get me out of the house, but I could take my time figuring out my route to get to work. Better to get lost now than on Monday morning. Plus, when I made it to the other side, I could do some window shopping downtown, maybe even buy myself a little treat. I put on my shoes and jacket, grabbed my phone, earbuds, keys, wallet, mace, and sunglasses, and headed out the door. It was a bright early fall day, warm sun with a crisp breeze. I walked the couple of blocks to the trailhead. My side of the park is the one with the playground, and I was met with happy shrieks as kids chased each other around the monkey bars. One of the young moms, sitting on a bench with a baby in a stroller, gave me a friendly smile as I passed, and I smiled back. Seemed like being outside was already doing something for my mood already. Another point for you, Dr. Winchell. I crunched up the gravel path into the trees that waited beyond. I’d thought I might need to use GPS to navigate, but there were plenty of well-placed signposts along the way to direct me, so instead of staring at my phone, I could fully enjoy the birdsong above and around me, the fresh earthy smell in the air, the late-afternoon sunlight filtering through the leaves on the trees, just starting to tinge with autumn colors at their edges. I passed a few people on the way, smiled at the cute cockapoos and labs jingling along on leashes. I liked Ochre Falls a lot already, I decided. About fifteen minutes in, I heard the sound of rushing water up ahead where the trees seemed to thin out. I turned a bend, and there it was: a slow-flowing river, lush with reeds and overhanging branches. And stretching over it, one of those wooden boardwalks, long and straight, so that I could look across and see the trail continuing into the woods on the other side. The reason for the ‘Ochre’ part of the river’s name became obvious as I approached: the water was a reddish-orange color, no doubt due to iron or some other mineral. I even thought I could smell something metallic in the air. The railings of the boardwalk were covered in patches of green and orange lichen. They felt slightly damp to the touch as I stepped up onto the wooden planks, which creaked gently under my weight. I started across. The river wasn’t terribly wide here and it wouldn’t take long to get to the other side, but I found myself taking my time. The sound and smell of the water was soothing; the stands of reeds growing by the banks and the lilypads drifting across the dark, quiet surface were beautiful. How nice it was going to be, I thought to myself, to cross here every day on my way to and from work. Hindsight is funny, isn’t it. About halfway across, I was jolted out of my thoughts by the distinct sensation that I’d walked *through* something. I stopped in my tracks, a reflexive shudder going down my spine. It was the same instinctive, panic-tinged ‘yuck’ that you get when you accidentally walk face-first into a spiderweb, the silky strands brushing and clinging. Only this barrier hadn’t felt physical: more like a thin, invisible wall of static, that for the moment I was passing through it, had hummed and crackled along my skin and made the hairs on my arms stand on end. But what had really frozen me in place was the sudden, unnerving certainty that struck me. Not the feeling of being watched, exactly: I’ve had plenty of creepers stare at me from across dark parking lots, and by now I know what it’s like to sense a pair of eyes on me even before I see them. This was different. Somehow I could feel that… *something*… was now *aware* of me. When I’d walked through whatever it was I’d walked through, I’d alerted it of my presence, and now *it* knew I was here. Something without eyes or ears. Something nearby. I realized then how alone I was in that spot. No friendly joggers or dog walkers in sight. Just the birds and plants and breeze and quiet water flowing past, as I stood there in the middle of the boardwalk, exposed on all sides in broad daylight. *Stop it*, I told myself, trying to shake it off. I’ve never believed in ghosts or spirits or anything like that, and I wasn’t gonna start now. Deliberately, I started walking again, ignoring the urge to bolt and run the rest of the way across. I told myself that it was the time of year when lots of static electricity builds up in everything (*in bridges? in a single location?*), that I’d just gotten spooked out in the woods by myself (*I wasn’t spooked before, was I?*). But I found that I was holding my breath, and that my pace had quickened into a quick, efficient walk. Despite myself, I felt a wave of relief as I stepped back off of the boards and onto the waiting dirt on the other side. Refusing to look back over my shoulder, I continued along the path back into the woods. Back among the trees, I made myself breathe in the fall air. But try as I might, I couldn’t quite recapture the same pleasure in the walk. I could feel the edginess in my own nod and tight smile when a man biked past me in the other direction. I had to be almost through, now, didn’t I? Sure enough, the trail soon led me past the pebbly waterfront of the pond, past a metal gate and back out to sidewalk and civilization. There were the cars, the houses, the street signs. Something in me relaxed, finally, the same way it did when I was a kid playing tag and made it safely back to my team’s base. When I turned onto Main Street, the sun had sunk low enough in the sky to dazzle back at me off of the storefronts. I’d forgotten that a lot of places would be closed early for the weekend, but I still enjoyed my stroll down the street, stopping looking in the dark windows at hand-made jewelry and frou-frou clothes I could never afford, at the still-lifes and landscapes painted by local artists hanging proudly in the window of the tiny art gallery. Most of the places still open were dining establishments, restaurants and bars. The diner I’d interviewed at a few weeks before was lit up, and I could see inside where patrons were lined up on stools at the counter eating eggs for dinner. But I figured it’d come off as a little clingy to stop in there ahead of time, like I just couldn’t wait to get started. Instead, I opted for the convenience store a block down. I’d promised myself a treat, after all. The place was small and dingy, with shelves of boxed mac-n-cheese and humming fridges full of beer and soda. I headed straight for the snack section, knowing just what I was looking for: Flamin’ Hot Cheetos and something made by Hostess to wash them down. Heading to the counter with my spoils, I stopped and waited for the girl working it to ring up an older gentleman’s lottery tickets. She looked about my age, and cute, I couldn’t help but notice, slim and dark-eyed. When it was my turn, she smiled at me as I stepped up to the counter. “Find everything OK?” “Yes, thanks.” I smiled back, suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious about my selections. (If you were the chubby kid in high school, you get it.) But it was me she turned a seemingly thoughtful eye on as she rang me up. “I saw you walking up and down the street earlier,” she said, sounding curious rather than suspicious. “Are you here on vacation?” I refrained from commenting that if I could afford to go on vacation, this spot wouldn’t be my top choice. “No, I actually just moved to town,” I said. “I’m starting at the diner on Monday.” “Oh, cool,” she said with a smile as I put my card in the chip reader, and it sounded like she meant it. “Where are you living?” “The complex on the other side of the Falls,” I told her. “I walked here. It’s a beautiful park.” Thinking back on it now, I’m still not sure: did I imagine the flash of recognition, of resignation, almost, in her eyes, as she looked back down at the register? She was smiling politely when she glanced back up as my receipt printed. “Nice,” she said. “Maybe I’ll see you around, then.” “Yeah, for sure,” I said, and trying for a joke, “I’m gonna need a local Cheetos hookup, after all.” She laughed, which was nice. (As an average lesbian, I’ve misinterpreted my fair share of chatty straight girls as flirting, so I tried not to read into it, but still.) “Yeah, we’ve got the market cornered there.” She handed me my little plastic baggie of snacks and my change. I thanked her and almost promised I’d be back, before deciding that might be a little too stalkerish. “See you later,” I opted to call instead as I headed for the door. She called back a cheery reply. It was only when I was already back outside in the cool evening air when my brain fully processed what she had said: “Don’t look behind you ‘til you get to the other side!” I stopped on the sidewalk. Not only was that… a pretty weird thing to say, but the way she’d said it was distinctly odd too, in a pleasant, customer-service tone of voice, just the way a cashier might call out *Have a nice day!* or *Thank you, come again!* Maybe it was some sort of, like, regional expression? I glanced back through the window. She’d picked up a landline phone behind the counter and was holding it between her ear and shoulder, listening closely and writing something down on a sticky note. Trying not to give it much more thought, I adjusted my grip on the bag and set back out in the direction of the park. As the waterfront came back into sight, and the trail into the forest beyond, a creepy feeling started to come over me again. Maybe it was just residual nerves from earlier, or what the girl behind the counter had said to me, or maybe it was the fact that when I’d set out in the first place, I hadn't given much thought to the time. The sun was nearly at the horizon now, the day turning into dim twilight, and while it wouldn’t be fully dark out by the time I got home, it’d be pretty damn close. Whatever the reason, some part of me was saying that it did *not* want to go back into those woods, so bright and pleasant before, now looking tangled and foreboding, streaked with long, deep shadows. Stubbornly, I ignored myself: it was a municipal park in the middle of a well-populated area, and I had my phone and my mace on me if anyone tried to mess with me. Besides, there was no other way to get home, was there? My feet were tired and I was getting hungry for dinner. There was only a short walk left between me and food and rest. The water slapped quietly against the buoys bobbing on the pond as I walked back into the trees. No one else was still out on the trails at this time of day. It was just me walking along the trail, as the shadows around me deepened and the sky I could see through the branches above turned from pale blue to pale gold and then began fading into dim gray. There were still scattered bird calls, now joined by the chirring of insects, and I could hear little animals scurrying in the underbrush, but other than that, the crunching of my feet on the path sounded very loud to me. With a flicker, a series of lights lining the trail blinked on. At first I was grateful for the visibility, but pretty soon something about their pale, fluorescent glow, that formed a series of cold, hard spotlights along the trail, started to creep me out. The eerie feeling inside of me kept growing, no matter how hard I tried to push it down. Even the signposts that had seemed so friendly before loomed up, long and skinny, out of the shadows, silent sentinels I’d been walking for fifteen minutes when I heard it up ahead: the faint sound of rushing water. My heart sank. I’d been trying not to think about it all along, but of course I’d known that I’d have to cross the boardwalk again on my way home. Soon enough, the trees thinned out, and there it was up ahead, the long wooden structure stretching out over the dark stretch of the water. At least the twilight was a bit brighter out here, without the trees blocking out what remained of the dying light still left in the sky. I paused at the foot of the boardwalk, feeling the clamminess of my hand wrapped around the plastic handles of my shopping bag, hearing my own breathing becoming shallow. I clenched my jaw against the feeling of mounting dread, told myself once again that this was stupid, it was just a fucking *boardwalk*, that the sooner I crossed it, the sooner I’d be home. Ignoring the protestations of my own instincts, I squared my shoulders and stepped up on to it, intending to speed-walk across the damn thing without stopping. The water rushed quietly under my feet as they scuffed along the wooden boards, and I kept my eyes fixed on the trail on the other side. “Jess!” I was almost at the middle of the boardwalk when the shout from behind me startled me so badly that I was rooted to the spot. It was a jolt of adrenaline, yes, but also a jolt of recognition. I’d know the voice anywhere. It belonged to my one real friend from school, Michelle, a good-natured lacrosse player who’d tried to take me under her wing and introduce me to her friend group, even though at the time I’d been far too in my head and screwed up to really benefit from her kindness. She was the only person I’d bothered to even tell I was dropping out, and she’d given me a big hug with her strong arms and we’d promised to keep in touch over text. I’d felt pretty guilty about my own failure to reply to the few texts she’d sent me since, wondering if she was mad or hurt or, worse, didn’t really care all that much. “Jess, it’s Mickey!” Yes, that was definitely Michelle’s relaxed, husky voice, a dozen or so yards behind me but audibly drawing nearer, as if she was hurrying to catch up. “What the fuck are you doing out here?” she called, laughing a bit, sounding exactly like I’d have wanted her to sound, no hard feelings at all, just her warm lovely self, sincerely glad to see me, waiting for me to turn around and greet her. Any other time, I would have been thrilled. But what welled up within me, here and now, was a deep, primal terror. *Don’t look behind you ‘til you get to the other side!* My hand shot into my pocket. I fumbled out the case for my wireless earbuds. My fingertips numb and clumsy, I pressed them into my ears as quickly as I could. Then, spine stiff with fear, eyes locked forward, I started walking again, as fast as I could. Here was the logic that my terrified brain was capable of: if it really was Michelle back there (and of course, of *course* it was, who else could it be?), I'd get across the bridge and then turn around and take out my earbuds as she was catching up to me, claiming I hadn’t been able to hear her over the water and my music. Which she’d hopefully buy, and would hopefully come across as less weird than me just straight out ignoring her. I wasn’t actually listening to any music, of course, and I could still hear just fine. “Jess?” Michelle called again. “Ah, shit, she can’t--” I heard her mutter to herself, and then she tried again, louder, with the distinct sound of hands cupped around her mouth to help amplify her voice. “JESS! Jess McDonald! Hey dummy! Turn around!” Only a few more yards to the end of the bridge. It took all of my willpower not to break into a sprint, knowing how it’d look to Michelle, but I was walking so fast I was practically running. “Oh my God.” She sounded annoyed now, and a pang of guilt and self-loathing shot through me. “For fuck’s sake, Je-- OW!” Despite myself, the strangled cry of pain stopped me in my tracks once again, steps from the dirt of the trail on the other side. Behind me, I heard the sound of someone falling to their knees, a tight sob. “Jesus Christ, I rolled my ankle-- it *hurts*\-- Jess! Jess, please, *please* turn around, I need help…” The pain, the strain and distress in her voice, was visceral. God, what the hell was I doing? I needed to drop this, this silly, paranoid behavior, to turn around and help her like a decent human being. And yet, whispered a voice in my mind. Awfully *convenient*, wasn’t it? This time I took off running, my shoes slapping against the boards. If it really was Michelle back there with a sprained ankle, time was of the essence, and if it wasn’t-- “Jess!?.Jess, where are you going, *don’t leave me here, please, Jess, JE--!”* I hit the other side. And as soon as my foot touched dirt, that very split second, Michelle’s voice cut out, mid-wail. Not like someone trailing off, or losing their breath. Like a recording, abruptly shut off. Instant silence. Just the bugs, the wind, the water, and my own heavy, half-crazed breathing. As I reached up to remove my earbuds, I found that my hands were trembling. I swallowed, my mouth dry and tacky. All I wanted to do was keep running until I was back at my apartment with the door locked behind me. But I was on the other side, now, and I had to look back. I had to. Slowly, slowly, I turned my head and looked back over my shoulder. Nobody was there. No Michelle. No anyone. Just the empty boardwalk under the gray twilit sky, almost hard to see now in the falling darkness. Empty, except for the plastic bag from the convenience store, which lay a few yards back where I’d dropped it without even realizing it in my mad dash, its content spilling out onto the planks. Like hell if I was going back for it. I turned, facing the trail ahead of me and the long, exhausting trudge the rest of the way home. The urge to run had drained away entirely. The danger, I knew, was already behind me. \-- Of course, the likelier explanation is that there was no danger at all. That everything I experienced yesterday was the beginning of some kind of paranoid psychosis. It’d make sense, too. Maybe that’s why I’d failed all my classes at school; hadn’t made any friends; had spent the past semester miserable and terrified, hiding from the world in my dorm. An imminent breakdown. Cold comfort. Or maybe I’m not crazy. Maybe all of it really happened, just as I’ve described it. Which is even colder comfort. No comfort at all, really. I’ve spent today locked up in my apartment, Google mapping like crazy. But there’s no way around it. I’m without a car for the foreseeable future; there are no buses here; I can’t afford Uber; and walking the long way around to the diner would take something like five hours. I’ve even studied the grainy JPEG of the map of the Falls on the town website, zooming in on every little path and trail. But as it turns out, all of them converge about halfway through the park. All at the same spot. There’s no other way across the river. And I start work tomorrow.

A Mad Dog should always be your last resort.

xu024u

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xu024u/a_mad_dog_should_always_be_your_last_resort/

I already planned out my entire life when I was in the last three months of high school. I worked my ass off to get scholarships and the grades needed to get into any university of my choice. I even took any part-time jobs I could in order to save money to move out for university. My family lived comfortably, but couldn’t really afford sending me to a different state to study, even with the loans and scholarships. So, I made it work. With savings tucked away in my bank account and my plans set, all I need to do was graduate. My three mortal enemies were doing their best to make that impossible. I always found it stupid that I had three people on my back at school. It started with a milk throwing incident the first few months of high school. The ringleader of the three, Trevor, thought it would be hilarious to slam down three cartons full of milk in the cafeteria, spraying people. Everyone else just made some sounds of disapproval, but I said exactly how I felt. That these three were good for nothing waste of air and would end up arrested in a few years. They did not take well to that comment. And for almost four years, they showed me just how much they hated me. I tried telling the principle about them, but the system was to punish both parties. I risked getting kicked out of school if the bulling came to light and I felt my suffering wasn’t all that bad. I just held my head high and took whatever came my way. With three months left in school, I found myself at the end of my rope. Trevor didn’t just target myself. He had a long list of students he enjoyed to torment. One of them had enough and tossed some rotten fish in Trevor's prized car in the morning. By the end of the day, the sun roasted the fish causing the smell to be unbearable even inside the school. He needed to get his car towed and professionally deep cleaned and it still held the hint of the fish smell. The person who did it knew they might get killed for the prank, so they used me as a scapegoat. Even without proof, Trevor took to the idea. While I waited for the bus home, I saw his red car screech down the street and thought nothing of it. Even after the three came storming out towards me, I didn’t think to run. I didn’t have time to do much besides curl into a ball as they gave me an undeserved ass kicking. Despite being near a bus stop, no one called the cops, or even thought to help. At least my textbooks in my backpack took most of the kicks to my stomach. They were smart enough to avoid my face during the short beating. Broken noses and black eyes tended to get more of a reaction out of people. In the end, they left me with a few sore ribs and a lot of bruises on my back and sides because I had curled around my bag. I didn’t even get up after I heard them fleeing and car tires screeching away. The pain refused to die down. I stayed on the hard ground trying to collect myself as I repeated I just needed to deal with this for a few more months. I needed to graduate, then get the hell out of this crappy town. I breathed slowly, trying to not hurt my ribs by taking in more air than needed. After a few minutes I sensed eyes on my back. Fearing one of them stayed behind, I risked a glance upwards to see a stranger looking down on me. Our eyes met and a lazy half smile spread across his face. “Do you got a light?” He got down low to the ground resting his arms on his knees. I thought he looked too old to be sitting on his heels like that. His hair completely grey but his face without too many wrinkles. Only some crows feet at the corners of his eyes and a set of wrinkles appearing at the corner of his mouth making me guess he was no older than forty. I did something that I would always regret. I dug around in a small pocket of my backpack aware of all the pains in my body as I moved. Earlier that day I found a cheap lighter with some life still left in it. I had a bad habit of picking up anything useful. I took furniture from the side of the road to fix up and sell, or would pick up pens in the hallway at school. I didn’t have a use for a lighter, and yet I still grabbed it. I held out the small orange plastic lighter for him to take. In the moment I didn’t even question why an adult like himself asked a clearly injured teenager for a lighter instead of trying to help. It took a few tries but he lit a cigarette and held out the lighter to give back. I refused it and muttered he could keep it. The same half smile came back and he honestly gave me a bad vibe. “Did those three have a reason to rough you up, or were they being pricks?” The stranger asked without offering any assistance to a still injured teen. He could have at least pretended to care and not loo so damn amused by the whole thing. I gritted my teeth and sat up. I wanted to get away from this weirdo. Everything about him freaked me out a little. He wore a dress shirt and suit jacket, but the shirt was unbuttoned showing his collar bone and his jacket seen better days. His voice sounded like he smoked at least a pack a day for most of his life and he didn’t put much energy into anything he said. “They’re just pricks. It’s fine. I’ll get over it.” I said a bit more bitterly than I expected to sound. “I could take care of them for you. After all, you sort have paid me already.” He showed off the lighter in his hand and shook it once. I didn’t know what he was implying but didn’t like it. He sounded ready to really do some harm to the three that just kicked my sides in but he didn’t want to help when they were attacking? Did he watch the entire thing or just come across me by chance after they left? No, he mentioned those three so he at least saw who been here. I didn’t trust him at all and suddenly regretted doing him any kind of favor. “It’s fine I don’t-” Before I could finish, he reached into his pocket and flicked over a small business card. It landed on the ground in front of me and I hesitated picking it up. The white card only with a hand written phone number on the front. “I’m only in this town for another week. You should make up your mind soon. Later Kiddo.” The odd man got to his feet and took a long inhale of his cigarette. He barely acknowledged me still sitting on the ground as he walked away, slightly hunched with his hands in his pockets. The card and the smell of tobacco smoke the any traces he’d really been there. I made a mistake of tucking the card away in my bag in a spot where it wouldn’t bend. I didn’t have any plans of calling him, but the paper was stiff and good for a very small study note. I didn’t have any plans on rocking the boat. I ignored the three dumb asses when I went to school the next day. My parents didn’t notice how stiff I walked when I arrived home that night, but my mother did see a small bruise on the side of my face. I played off as an accidentally injury. I refused to give my attackers any kind of attention. I just need to make it through a few more months and I would be in the clear. Thankfully, they seemed to move onto another target for a while. The only one who noticed my mood and did anything about it was my senior dog, Luna. We got her when I was about five or so, and she’d been with me most of my life. She was also the only thing I didn’t really have a plan for. I couldn’t let her stay home when I went to university and the dorms didn’t allow pets. I wrote an email asking if I could bring her along for part of the first year. I loved her more than anything else in my life and sadly she was sick. I doubted she would last more than a few months. Due to her age and illness, the school was considering on letting her stay until she passed of natural causes knowing it may happen soon. I made it through a full month before the worst happened. Dealing with a beat down, or harassment at school was easy. But those three bastards did something I could never forgive them for. And gave me a reason to call the strange man I met at the bus stop a few weeks before. With only two more months left of school, I’d stayed up late to study with Luna at my side. I often wondered if she felt any pain in those last few days but never showed any signs of it. I reached down to pet her golden fur and she made me aware that she wanted to go outside to do her business. Lately she wanted to go outside pretty often and needed to do so a few times a night. Knowing I would be awake for a few more hours I went with her and helped her go down the stairs. She didn’t have any issues running for a few minutes if she wanted, but the stairs slowed her down. I opened the back door to let her out and started making myself something to eat. I wanted to be awake so I could study for the night. I didn’t see Luna in the dark backyard but that was normal. Just as I finished up making my sandwich, I heard a terrible sound coming from the front of the house. A sound I’ll never forget and will always haunt the back of my mind. Luna should have been in the backyard. I shouldn’t have assumed the yelp before the sounds of tires screeching away was her, but I spent most of my life with her. I knew what she sounded like. I dropped whatever was in my hand and ran as fast as I could out front and just in time to see a red car turning the corner at the end of the street. My entire body turned to ice and my stomach flipped seeing her small shape in the middle of the road. I wasn’t even aware I screamed when I ran to her, waking some of the neighbours. It’s not important going into details about that night. We made her as comfortable as possible and said goodbye at the emergency vet office. Pieces of a headlight the only thing left behind from the car that hit her. We figured the lock on the back gate rusted loose, letting Luna get out into the street that way. Luna liked the new kids across the street and I caught her on their lawn once before. I put a rock against the gate thinking it might keep it shut, but my father must have moved the rock the last time he opened the door and never replaced it. I didn’t blame him, or the rusted gate lock. I only blamed the owner of the red car. I took two days off school. My parents wanted me to take more time off but I needed to finish those last few months. I stayed silent, walking around in a haze just trying to stay focused in class. The first day back, I walked through the student parking lot and froze. Those three pricks were leaning against Trevor's car smoking and carrying on. His red car. His red car with a broken headlight. I blacked out for few minutes. My body moving on its own. I dropped my backpack and went over to them and just went feral on Trevor. I got him to the ground and gave him a bloody nose as his two friends, Ben and Thomson stood shocked. A teacher saw the one-sided fight and pulled me away. Trevor gave those two and earful about not helping. By some miracle, we all didn’t get dragged to the office or parents called. They just packed up and booked it out of there, leaving the teacher unsure of what to do. He didn’t have the victims, and he didn’t want to deal with all the drama calling my parents would bring. I’m fairly certain that if those three stayed, they would have needed to explain why I exploded on them. That would bring to light so much of their past harassment, and the accusation of them being involved in a hit and run. I doubted they wanted to graduate, but if Trevor’s father found out about the cause of the broken headlight he would be pissed. I heard he already paid to fix a lot on the car after those three got drunk and went to smash a bunch of mailboxes earlier in the year. I got sent home with a warning and some very sore knuckles. Though it didn’t feel like enough. I wanted to kill them. They took away the one I loved the most in the world and so far, they haven’t received any punishment. I needed to do something and fast. We filed a police report and I called them to tell them about the broken headlight on Trevor's car with the police just saying they would ‘look into it.’ That wasn’t good enough. Even if they did find out Trevor was the one who killed Luna, then what? He might only do some community service. No, more needed to be done. I sat in my room, ignoring my parents requesting me to come down for dinner trying to think of what to do. Luna’s bed sat empty and it tore at my heart. My study books still scattered ion my desk from that night. I couldn’t bring myself to touch them. Looking them over, the small card caught my attention. I did end up using it for a study card, but the phone number was still on the back. The idea felt crazy. I wasn’t really going to call that weirdo for help, was I? The memory of Luna’s yelp came back and I made up my mind. I didn’t care about the risks or cost. I just wanted them to suffer. I pulled out my cellphone and dialed the number. It rang a few times and I thought I was out of luck. Then it connected and I held my breath not knowing what to say. I didn’t even know this guy’s name. “I uh... We met a month ago. I gave you a lighter.” I blurted out not even knowing if I reached the right person. “Oh? That's right. Those three still giving you some trouble? Need me to deal with em for ya?” I hesitated wondering how much to tell him. In the end, I didn’t say much. If he was willing to do this job, then he didn’t need to know the reason. “Yes, please do something about them. How do we go about this?” I asked. He stayed silent on the other end of the phone and I could almost hear that creepy lazy smile. I heard a faint sound I realized to be a lighter and a few more seconds of silence before he told me when and where to meet him. This whole thing simply crazy. And dangerous. I agreed to meet a strange man at night just because I wanted revenge. Grief makes people do some very careless things. The stranger arrived first. We still haven't given each other our names and I thought that might be for the best. I slowly walked up to him, and my body turned cold again seeing Trevor’s car. How the stranger knew where it would be parked ahead of time was a mystery. Then again, there was only one bar in town that didn’t care about serving teenagers so he might have guessed where three trouble makers would end up on a Friday night. “So, uh... What’s the plan?” I asked him looking around. Trevor parked his car across the street from the bar so it might appear he was inside the burger place and not drinking. A few people lingered outside smoking watching us. They must know Trevor and knew how much his car cost. I honestly didn’t know the first thing about cars. I think his was old and cost a fortune but that was about it. A car is a car to me. My hired help was dressed in the same thing I met him in. An open slightly wrinkled suit jacket, and dress shirt with two buttons undone. I glanced down and noticed he wasn’t wearing any shoes. Not even sandals. It was warm enough to go without, but the street dirty with glass around. I started to think I made a very big mistake calling him for help. With a lit cigarette hanging out of the corner of his mouth, he gave a half smile. His grey eyes almost appearing silver in the night. “This is the car, right?” He asked nodding towards Trevor’s parked car. He since replaced the headlight, but I knew it was his. When I nodded, I didn’t have enough time to stop the man before he lifted a bare foot up, and kicked off the car’s mirror. My legs turned to jelly as I watched him do more damage to the car. He dented the driver side door, smashed the headlight and tore off the license plate by the time Trevor and his two goons came out of the bar stumbling along and screaming. “Make them follow us!” The man said and took my wrist forcing me to run with him down the street. I couldn’t keep up. He dragged me along painfully and I heard Trevor get into his car to chase us down. We wouldn’t be able to get away from them, and that wasn’t his plan. After a few blocks, he found an empty street near a park entrance and let go of my wrist. I tripped, falling painfully to the ground. I sat up in time to see the strange man go into the middle of the empty road to stare down the oncoming red car. I don’t know if Trevor was drunk, pissed off, or a mixture of the two but he did something I didn’t expect. He put his foot down on the gas and hit the man in the middle of the road. His body flipping off the hood, cracking the windshield then landing twisted with a loud crack. I nearly got sick from the sound. Trevor wasn’t able to get control of his car causing him to swerve off the road, hitting a light post. The sound of the impact echoed through the street and slammed into my chest. I started to dry heave, panic and stress shaking my body. I didn’t want anyone to die, right? This was all far too much. And, the nightmare just kept going. I needed to help them, so I got up to head towards the car thinking it was far too late for the man in the road. I stopped a few feet from the car when I saw a shape twisted on the ground by the street post. I did puke then, realizing what happened. Either Ben or Thomson didn’t wear their seatbelt and got tossed from the car on impact. Trevor somehow was moving in the driver’s seat. My body refused to move after dumping my dinner in the road. All of this far too much to handle. “Two left? I was hoping or more fun yah know?” I didn’t think it was possible to be even more terrified than how I felt seeing the car wreck. The sound of the deep voice behind me almost enough to give me a heart attack. I sank to my knees, looking over to see the man I called standing up, looking perfectly fine. He cracked his neck and the smile on his face caused my breath to stop dead in my lungs. I wasn’t aware I called down hell on those three until I saw that smile. The backseat door opened and Ben fell out onto the street, his face blood and bruised. My body refused to move and I only watched as the man started walking over to the helpless teenager. Ben knew to run, but didn’t know why. He stumbled along, his face dripping blood as the man let him whimper and get as far as the park stone steps. His hands in his jacket pocket as he hunched over to look over Ben with teeth showing. “I’ll let you fight back. I want to have some fun, ya know? Do you have any weapons on you? A knife? A nail file? Anything??” The stranger asked in a tone that got more and more excited. Ben, half crawling up the stone steps leaving spots of blood behind started sobbing. He looked to be in such pain and didn’t have a chance of getting away. He pleaded for his mother to come and save him. The sounds tearing painfully at my chest. “Nothing? God, you're so boring!” Reaching out a hand, the man grabbed Ben’s head by his short hair and slammed his face down into the stone step again and again. I jumped at each crack of bone smashing on the cement. My body shaking and mind going numb from the sight. This shouldn't be possible. None of this was right. A person shouldn’t be that strong and so easily be able to turn a person’s face to mush. And he shouldn’t even be able to get up and walk around after getting hit by a car. A new sound made up all jump. Trevor got out of the car, his eyes hazy and a gun in his hand. I didn’t know where he got a gun from but I almost was glad to see it. He fired again, the bullet tearing through the face of the one who killed his friend as he turned to face the weapon. Another bullet missed, but the first one nearly tore one side of the man’s jaw off, making his smile appear even more gruesome. “That’s it! Show me something fun!” He shouted, through a mouth of gore causing his words to slur a little and with a crazed look in his eyes. The sight made Trevor lose it. He fired wildly and emptied his gun in under a minute. One bullet nearly hit my face, but the odd man moved as fast as lighting to take the hit in the shoulder, shielding my body with his own. I didn't understand why he cared about my life. How could a monster like him kill a person with his bare hands, then defend another? He stood up, face slowly mending itself. I honestly thought I made a deal with the devil in that moment. I croaked out a half word trying to fight through the fear and beg the man to not kill Trevor. This gone far enough. My mind couldn’t take seeing another death. My voice failed me. Even if it didn’t, I doubted anything I said or did would change the outcome at that point. Trevor’s gun failed him. He either ran out of bullets or it jammed. He turned on his heel, attempting to make a run for it. His legs shaking and uneven. The man in the wrinkled suit jacket following a few steps behind. I thought I heard humming coming from him for a second. Trevor tripped and screamed. His mind and body shut down the same way mine did. The man gave him a chance to fight back. He stood over the crying teenager waiting to see what he would do. When nothing happened, the humming stopped to be replaced by a cracking noise. I thought my mind was already over loaded but what I saw next nearly put me over the edge into insanity. That man’s face... changed. Countless shapes of animal faces came from his neck, twisted into each other and shifted like liquid from different forms. Sounds of different creatures come from that terrible sight mingled into each other. All the voices trying to be heard over each other and the cries becoming warped as if it came out through a nearly broken speaker. All at once, those shapes came down on Trevor with thousands of teeth appearing to tear into his body. Another noise came. A yelping scream from Trevor that was much like the last sound Luna made. I blacked out for a while. I don’t think I closed my eyes, I just refused to remember what happened after I saw Trevor get ripped apart. I was vaguely aware of someone speaking and dragging me to my feet just to have my legs give out again. A sharp pain to my cheek forced my mind back into the present. A man dressed in a uniform stood and flashing lights filled the night. I saw the monster sitting on the curb with handcuffs around his wrists. His jacket looked spotless, but his dress shirt been stained with blood. He sneered at the cop standing in front of him. Rage clear on the officer’s face. “Did he hurt you kid?” The other cop asked and it took me a few minutes to realized he was addressing me. I shook my head unable to answer. I thought I heard the other cop talking with the killer saying how the man shouldn’t be in our small town for any reason. He noticed I moved my head and called his partner over to watch over the cuffed monster wearing a human mask. I found a new officer standing in front of me, looking down with an expression so cold it cut through my shock. “What in the ever-living hell did those three do to deserve you calling that man over for all this?” He demanded in a harsh but low voice. This man knew what I’d done. He was aware that I called that man over and was the cause of three deaths. I searched my brain trying to figure out just what been so important I put all of this into motion. “They killed... Luna. My dog.” I answer meekly, still in a state of shock. “All of this for a dog?” He asked disgusted and nodded towards the bloody street. One teen twisted and broken from the car crash. Another with his face smashed in, the blood leaking down the stone steps. And the final one in pieces scattered around the street. I looked at each one of them, my stomach turning. If I didn’t puke earlier, I would have then. My eyes landed on the stranger's face. He looked over his shoulder towards us with such a grim smile on his face it caused my head to swim. I looked up when the officer cursed seeing a new cruiser pulling up. This was a crime scene and it should be swarming with cops. A new fear started to spread in my stomach. Would they arrest me as well? It appeared like only one cop so far knew about my deal with the monster but wasn’t I still responsible in some way? I didn’t have time to think about my future when a new scene played out. A pair of police came from the new cruiser and the one that spoke with me tried to keep one back. One looked familiar and my gut sank to the ground the moment my mind clicked to why I would know his features. “I told you I would help you with any cases if that Mad Dog came back. Now let me through Chief. What are you trying to hide from me?” The new arrival spoke trying to look around the road. His partner grabbed his arm to drag him away far too late. His eyes landed on the crumpled form in the steps and it took both men to hold him back. He started to yell the dead boy’s name. His dead son’s name. The yells turned to screams and all at once he became silent the moment we made eye contact. He knew who made the phone call that ended his son’s life. All three of them took a hold of him in some way trying to keep his gun from his hand. I simply watched almost welcoming death by his actions. It felt fair if he shot me that night. While all the police fought to keep one in line, no one kept watched on the one who killed three teens that night. He stood up, stretched and walked over to the group in no hurry. He kept his arms cuffed behind his back even though we all knew breaking the metal would be easy for him. The father fought harder screaming how he wanted to kill all of us. “Are you threatening the one who hired me? Hm? We met before, hadn’t we? You know the deal. I protect the ones who I do a job for against retaliation. If you harm one hair on that child’s head then-” His calm and yet arrogant tone got cut off. “Or what?! You'll kill me?!” The man shouted, face red and veins popping from his forehead. “You have a lovely young daughter, don’t you?” The words barely a whisper and almost impossible to hear them from where I sat. The man went pale and limp in the hold of the others. He shook his head not believing the threat. Not wanting to believe any of this happened. “You wouldn't dare hurt her. I’ll kill you if you ever even look at her...” He threatened in a weak voice. “I’ll have no reason to even remember she exists as long as you forget about the one who called me. But if I find out you went ahead and did something stupid well... I have a skill of getting the young and pretty ones to come to me. They tend to enjoy our time together too.” That smile I hated came back over his face. The idea of what his words implied caused the officer to react. He drew his gun so quickly the others didn’t stop him. The smile was literally blown off the man’s face. The second time that night his jaw hung limp and broken. He didn’t fall over, but rather let the blood pour to the ground with his head hanging down for a few second. He raised it to press his forehead against the gun, grey eyes shining in the dark. He wanted to be shot again. To see the reactions of the rest when they realized a bullet wouldn’t kill the monster that appeared that night. And to watch as all hope and sense of logic were taken from four adult men. The gun was taken away so that didn’t happen. I watched the officer that spoke with me take charge of the situation. He packed the cuffed and healing monster in the backseat of one cruisers and told one of the shaken co-workers to take me home. I prayed the last I ever saw of that man was the back of his head in a cop car. I thought I was going to be arrested for my involvement. I did, in a way, hire a man to kill three people. That fact would hold up in court. In the moment, I felt so numb I would have accepted any sentence handed down. But oddly enough, nothing happened. The officer dropped me off in front of my place unsure how what to say. He warned me not to leave town. I nodded and walked inside to curled up in bed trying to go over what happened that night. In the morning I heard they covered the entire thing up with a fiery car crash. No mention of the murders. Just that Trevor, Ben and Thomson died due to one of them driving drunk and crashing into a streetlight. The bodies were so burned and yet they already identified them. I couldn’t bring myself to leave my room for months. I expected to be taken anyway at any moment or have that man come by again asking for more victims. I lost my scholarships, and missed out on my final exams. My parent didn’t have a clue why I suddenly turned into a hermit. They gently tried everything to get me back to normal without much luck. Then they adopted a small sick and weak kitten. Neither of them thought it would pull through. It needed care and feeding every few hours and that made me focus on something besides myself. I felt something besides fear and misery when treating for the small kitten. When our new pet got the all clear from the vet, I finally felt relieved. I’d helped someone. It was as if saving one life filled the void that been created when I ‘d taken three others. But not fully filled it. We kept the kitten and named it Tabby. That small bundle of fur gave my life purpose. Over the next few years, I got my life back on track. I went to school to become a vet. I knew I couldn't save everyone that came to the clinic, but I did my best to do whatever I could for every animal I met. I almost forgotten how I felt at the end of high school for a while. I even managed to move out of my parent's place and into a small apartment. Things were going just fine after so long of trying to stay above water. And then a cat came into the clinic. A small orange one with injuries from a BB gun. He’d been starved and shot. The neighbours were the one who brought him in. They wanted to take him home, or try and keep him away from the owners. Without any proof that the owner’s children were the ones harming the cat, we would need to release him back to the owners and not the caring neighbours who brought him in. That old hate came back. An anger that filled my mouth and tasted like acid. I needed to do something. I had to save this poor cat that did nothing to harm anyone. After some minor investigation, I found out the parents treated their children worse than their cat. CPS had been called but it would take too damn long for the kids to be removed. And if we returned their cat, he would die in their hands very soon afterwards. I was quickly at the end of my rope. The police didn’t have time to do anything. Or simply didn’t care. Maybe the children could be saved but that poor little cat... They never even named him. For some reason, I kept the old study card with a certain number written on the back of it. The memories of that bloody night flashed into my mind. I had no right deciding the fate of these strangers. I could just steal the cat from the clinic but if anyone reported it, I risked losing my job. I didn’t care about myself, just the animals I could save while working. The card felt heavy in my hand. A heavy card for a heavier choice. What weighed down on my mind the most was how eager I felt calling the number. I no longer felt human if I was able bring down death on others so easily. My sense of remorse faded a long time ago. I set the card down deciding to only call the number if I couldn’t keep the harmed cat out of the hands of the ones who wanted to kill him. If there was no other option, I resolved to call in a Mad Dog to solve a problem.

do not wear pearls in the ocean.

xuufve

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xuufve/do_not_wear_pearls_in_the_ocean/

oh pearls. It's just the vibe you're going for, right? a relaxing day at the beach. just the vibe you're going for, right? just the perfect little touch to complete your aesthetic. wrong. terrifyingly wrong. do not wear pearls in the ocean. I learned it the hard way. I learned that the ocean is angry. The creatures of the ocean is angry. You can hear it's hissing if you get close enough. If you have something it owns. If you have something it wants. I don't have any other way to tell this story, ever since I was little, I was fascinated by the waves. I nearly drowned twice, and if you'd ask me what drowning feels like, I would have to tell you that not everything feels like another thing, though for now, i'm getting ahead of myself, let me clear it up; I still live in my childhood home with my family. My parents are pretty ordinary people. My dad is a vet and my mom is an accountant and we had never been poor by any means but we had never been filthy rich either. This big house by the shore is pretty much the one valuable (really valuable) thing we own. My mom loves it here, she thought me how to love it here, and for some time, my aunt had been visiting us madly. For about a year now, i'm either greeted by her and my mom on the front gate when i'm back from school or I see no trace of her in the house, even if her car is parked in our backyard. I think that car has not been out of our property for a straight year. I always thought that she found it more convenient to come and go by the bus, since I remember her telling us that it is hard to find a parking space near her house. I'm pleased that she's here, because honestly, when i'm alone, the huge property seems haunted by silence most of the time. And the shore does too. there's hardly anyone swimming or even wandering around the beach besides me because the first entrance is too rocky and the way that the mountains are shaped brings in a constant howl of wind. no one likes these. I tend to find them comforting. This may be selfish but the true reason I liked having my aunt around wasn't really her chattiness- she was a fine, cute lady, don't get me wrong, but she was just another find cute lady alright. I had always found her to be a little too superstitious. Still, I liked the fact that she liked the sea like me. She seemed even more compassionate in a weird way about going to the shore but I didn't really question it. I remember thinking her getting ready to go seemed a lot like a ritual. Still, I didn't really care. this particular day I remember seeing her braid her hair effortlessly while casually laying on the sand and her white hair looked flawless. Few pieces that she forgot to tuck in were floating in the air and for a second I thought it was mesmerizing. I somehow convinced her to swim with me. This was the first time that she was actually down to do so, and I had always imagined she was a bad swimmer and was ashamed of it, because my aunt was a pretty prideful women. oh I was wrong. I was so wrong. once my body fully hit the ice cold water, I opened my eyes and let the nature burn them with it's salty water. I had never once actually tortured myself. I did it frequently. I hid it under the name of nature. This has nothing to do with the story, my mind is going feral now that writing all of this made me freak out even more. well, my eyes got used to the torture, I saw two legs speeding away from me. In my mind I knew it was my aunt but that didn't even made sense to me. Then I remembered she took of all her jewelry before diving in. Just as she insisted on wearing blue swimwear, or no swimwear at all, just like she showered herself clean before swimming... Who does that? Why would you do that? I now have my theories. I sped up trying to catch her. She might be a good swimmer but it was her first time swimming here, she didn't know the line she shouldn't cross. My mom used to call it the no-no line. It was all the eternity after that one green flag that she made my father stick into a rock when I was little. That was the most we were allowed to go. She was getting closer and closer to the flag without even acknowledging it being there. So I decided to dive even deeper, take a huge breath, close your eyes, dive deep as you can. I sensed my pearl bracelet sliding up as far as it can go on my arm, I swam to where I though my aunt would be, and I couldn't open my eyes because of the pressure. I opened my hand trying to grab her when I get close enough, and after seconds, I did, in fact, grabbed something. Or it grabbed me. I'm not really sure. At first the hand hold mine gently, but then it dragged by body towards itself and when the grip got tighter, I could feel the claws, making my skin tingle. I was running out of breath and the thing kept dragging me down and down to the bottomless blueness. The claws got tied to the bracelet I loved so much and I felt it tear apart. It was the one real piece of jewelry I owned, combined with it's matching earrings, because I had lost the necklace of this combination a long time ago. And when the bracelet broke off, I heard a subtle hissing, both from whatever that's holding me and from the sea itself, I couldn't help but think, during all of this, I couldn't stop wondering; how did my mother know? how did she know where to draw the line? Then I focused on the one thing that mattered right then and there, I mean, besides my horrible fear of death, but i'm guessing you can already imagine that, What happened to my aunt? What is happening to me, again, duh, of course, but did the same thing happened to her? I started feeling the suffocation, that thing couldn't go any more deeper or I had completely lost my sense of direction, when I felt another touch, one of it's hands letting my wrist free while the other still holding, then with it's sharp nails, it grabs one of my earlobes. The second hand fallows. Now i'm being help only by grips on my ears. I felt like I was gonna explode, yet I could do nothing, If you'd ask me what the fear of death feels like, I'd have to tell you that not everything feels like another thing. But I felt another thing in that deep fear too. Shock. Pain. The claws had grabbed my pearl earrings and took them, cutting my flesh so effortlessly. And adrenaline can make you do a lot of things, guys, just seconds before I lost my conscious due to apparently drowning, I opened my eyes in shock. It was definitely something, and if you'd like to think that it is pretty I have to inform you that it is not. It was something, there was something, it existed, but I cannot explain its presence. With my brain chemically shutting down and with the nature of that thing, only features I can really remember is its eyes that looked like little shiny buttons, and a grin that covered its face from ear to ear. While blacking out, I saw it's white shiny air floating in the sea. It acknowledged my realization. It grinned at me.

This is not my house

xuh36u

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xuh36u/this_is_not_my_house/

So to keep this brief have you ever had a feeling something was off, but there's no reason why? Well leading up to my realization that was the feeling I've been having. I woke up one afternoon from a nap and although I couldn't pin point anything out of place everything felt off. I waited for my husband to get home which he did with pizza. He got my favorite but I just felt sick after. He asked what was up and I honestly couldn't give an explanation other than feeling off. He shrugged it off and said I may have had a vivid dream I just didn't remember. We went to bed and I went about my routine in the morning. When I got to work the feeling was even more intense. I recognize everything and everyone. I can even remember how things came to be. But it's like non of it was real. Because it wasn't. I figured it out nearly a month in when I realized everyone's smile was too wide. And the spots on the wall keep growing. My cats hiss when the mail comes even though they loved the mailman before the nap. They even hiss at hubby. But now I'm not so sure hubby is hubby. Because they were his cats originally. But now they won't let him pet them. The spots on the wall are starting to multiply now. It started off with 2 which became 5 then 12 then 27 now there are too many to count. They flow into each other making it nearly impossible to see where one ends and the next begins. Am I loosing it? Or am i the last normal human? The cats are gone. Hubby said they had rabies and bit him. The state of his arm is horrendous. Shredded and bitten. A fight had surely broken out between him and the cats. I know they're probably dead but I can't help but hope they're alright. The spots are growing still. At certain angles I catch a reflection but when I move back to look it's gone. Something's watching. The scratches and bite marks on hubby look weird and he doesn't physically react to any pain from them. They don't look like cat shaped bites and the puss isn't a good sign. The walls are watching. Listening. Whispering. The scratches are moving. Not like changing spots but physically moving. Wriggling. Writhing. The bite marks are worse. I can't help but gag. They're black as the night with maggots like the scratches. I think I saw bone. The walls are talking. I've kept my head down most of the time. The smiles hurt my eyes. I also keep airpods in cause the voices hurt my ears. The walls are screaming. I need to get out this is not my house. Hubby seems to be looking at me weird. Like I'm a wild animal in his house. He grabbed me. Pulled me close and tried to strangle me. I bit into his rotten arm hard. He let go and I grabbed the knife. Whatever he was he's dead now. They think I did it out of insanity or malice. Called me an insane killer wife. I'm awaiting my trial. Finally free from the screaming walls that were watching me. I still faintly here them like an echo in my ears. Now I understand what they were saying. "Get out this is not your house" But the shocking part. It's my voice, but I'm not saying it to me. I was saying it to him. Am I really insane?

The Green Belt Sanatorium [2]

xulta1

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xulta1/the_green_belt_sanatorium_2/

Has anyone heard of the Green Belt Sanatorium? I encountered this place three years ago. At least, I think it's a place. Since then, I've never been able to find it again. And now that [Anthony is gone](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xtnpvy/has_anyone_heard_of_the_green_belt_sanatorium_1/), I'm not sure who to ask. ​ **— three —** Midway Motel — The light shone like a beacon on the horizon, piercing the darkness between the trees. As I got closer, I could see it was a neon sign above some rinky-dink motel just off the side of the old highway. — Vacancy. I hit the blinker and pulled into the driveway, hope rising out the pit of my stomach. I had driven slowly, looking for any sign of Anthony on the side of the road. If he had made it this far, there was a chance he came here. Parking was a breeze. I was the only one in the lot. I looked at my watch. It was past 3 AM. The motel had seen better days, it was clear. When the freeways were built in the 80s, they all but killed places like these. But the front porch was lit, and the door was unlocked. I stepped inside. "Hello?" I called. The place was a blast from the past. A dull but patterned carpet, comfy chairs, and a front desk made of wood. The golden age before my time, encapsulated into one place. But it was the smell. The smell hit me with a wave of nostalgia. A subtle but distinct sharpness that hotels all seemed to have, as if they used the same industrial cleaning product. I remembered it as a kid, going on road trips with my dad, staying at affordable roadside inns with their continental breakfasts. That was back when gas prices were lower. I hit the reception bell. Nobody came. After a while I decided I'd had enough of reception counters for a day. I hadn't eaten in over ten hours, and my bladder was about to burst. I followed the sign on the wall to the men's. Had just started releasing into the urinal — letting out a very relieved sigh — when I heard Anthony's voice behind me. "Where the fuck have you been?" "Dude!" I said — I think I dribbled a little on my shoes — "Where did you go? I was looking for you." "I was looking for you!" he said. He was standing at the sink, staring at me. His eyes were tired and hooded, but I could tell he was furious. We started talking at the same time. I began to pee all over the place. "I went inside —" "I know!" " — to look for you!" "You said five minutes!" "What is that place?" "You're asking me!" he said. "I'm asking you." "And I'm asking you!" "What?" "Stop fucking saying what." "What!" I said. "I said stop fucking saying what!" he said. I stopped fucking saying anything. I concentrated on finishing up my piss and went to the sink to rinse my hands. Tony sighed. "Listen," he said. "I'm worried about you." — This is when the trouble with Anthony started. Well, I suppose it started a while ago. But this is when it really started affecting our relationship. Anthony had a bad memory. It wasn't that he was forgetful — he could remember the tiniest detail in movies that I'd missed. But there were some events that happened to both of us which he said he couldn't remember. It was never anything of real consequence. Walks in the forest, funny conversations we had as children. The deeper into his childhood, the more holes in his memory. It was just the stress, he had told me, when I'd mentioned it to him. The stress of a traumatic upbringing. I remembered him being a troubled kid — I mean, who wasn't troubled as a teen — but I didn't remember him being especially bad. Then again, I never went over to his place much growing up, so in the end I had to take him at his word. Until now. "You're the one who suggested going there in the first place," Anthony said. "What?" "I'm just saying! We wouldn't be here if you didn't want to go inside that place. What is it, anyway?" "I don't know, Tony," I said. "I only went inside to look for you." "Ha. That's funny. That's very fucking funny." "It's not a joke, man. It was your idea to go in there." "Fuck you." "Are you serious right now?" Our argument ping-ponged back and forth like that for hours, from the bathroom to the vending machine to the motel room. He said it was my idea to go inside the Sanatorium — said it reminded me of some obscure web series I used to watch. I told him the truth. That it was a nostalgia trip out of some shit-fuck game he downloaded off the internet when he was twelve. He held his ground. The guy really had the balls to try to gaslight me. What an asshole. What I couldn't figure out though, was why he would lie about it. Maybe he was embarrassed about the situation and was in denial. Maybe he was scared of what he saw in the place. Maybe he wasn't lying — or at least, didn't know that he was. Maybe he had forgotten what had happened, and his brain was making stuff up to fill in the gaps. Whatever it was, it pissed me off. We shared his motel room. It was a double bed. He told me he'd take the floor. I said no, it was his room — I'll take the floor. Fine, he said. Sleep wherever the fuck you want. — That night, I dreamed I was Anthony. I just knew I was him. Walking through the library, in the airless corridors of the Sanatorium. The same dull-green bindings, shelved from floor to ceiling. I had pulled a book out of a shelf — there was no title on the cover. I opened the cover. Flipped through it. All the pages were blank. ​ **— four —** Tony was at the wheel. We were on hour three of the seven hour ride home. Neither of us had said much, even when we had stopped at a drive-thru. I stuffed the rest of my napkins in the paper bag and decided to try again. "You really don't — even remotely — remember playing a game called — or set in a place called — Green Belt Sanatorium," I said. He heaved a sigh and said, "Don't fucking start again." "I'm serious. Specifically a shitty free to play game." "No I do not." "But you have been known to play these shitty freeware games." "Yes, I have been known to play these shitty freeware games," he said. "But that was before I got my Xbox." "You had an Xbox?" "Yeah," he said. "Three-sixty. I got it used. Saved up like crazy, remember?" "When was that?" "Dude. Like, tenth grade." "Really?" "Yeah. I borrowed some of your games. You don't remember?" A vague recollection was forming in my mind. But I wasn't sure enough, or in the mood, to concede the point. He looked at me. "You really don't remember." "So you still maintain it was my idea to go inside." He returned his eyes to the road. Didn't answer. "But you went inside there, right?" "Yes," he said. "I went inside." "And what was it?" I asked. "What did you see in there?" He drove silently for a while. I persisted. "Tony, what did you see in there?" "What do you want me to say?" he snapped. "It's a care center. Where they send old people to die. What do you want me to say about it?" As we drove the rest of the way in silence, I couldn't shake the feeling that something had changed. When we crossed the state line, I couldn't find any feeling of familiarity in the passing landmarks, even when we got close to the city we both lived in. We had switched drivers for the last stretch, and I had wordlessly dropped him off at home before returning the car to the rental company. Looking out the windows on the bus ride home, I felt like a tourist, some invader from another world. Even when I had showered and woken from a fitful sleep, I couldn't recognize the place around me as one I'd lived in for years. It was as if I was watching the world through a mirror — or I had been my whole life, but now the mirror had fallen away, to reveal the true nature beyond. — Anthony moved away not long after that. Found some job in a bigger city, made a lot more money. We lost contact. I buried myself in my work and all but forgot about the incident. Then the pandemic hit, and the startup I worked at crashed. I tried to make it freelance, but the clients were too few and miserly. I ended up losing my apartment, and soon after contracted the virus. As I was recuperating in my mother's basement, the Green Belt Sanatorium had the time to return to my mind. Unanswered questions, swirling in the dark as I paced the confines of the basement. What was that place? Why did Tony lie about it? And most alarmingly: Had I misremembered the whole thing? My old PC was still there, hooked up to the internet. I tried to retrace my steps on Google Maps, using the satellite view. I couldn't find any sign of the place, but it was hard to remember the route I had taken through those country roads. My search term, 'green belt sanitarium' turned up zero direct hits — only information on urban zoning policies, where development was prohibited on designated land. There were some results about hospitals and psychiatric wards being built on these so-called 'green belts', but there was nothing with the same name in the continental US. Besides, that building we entered was nowhere near a city. I tried adding, 'freeware', 'game', '.exe' to my query. Then I tried, 'webseries', 'watch online', 'show'. Still got nothing — just some stuff about healthcare training. There was a game on Steam about an asylum called Green Hills, but after watching some playthroughs on Youtube I categorized it as irrelevant. That was when the dreams started — or maybe continued. I was back in those windowless halls, wandering around looking for Anthony. I smelled the acrid smoke and followed it, went through those subway turnstiles to where the silent readers sat. And when I called out Anthony's name, they would all look up, and all of them had his face. ​ **— five —** Three years had passed after our visit to the Sanatorium. I began to learn how to live in this mirror-world of masks and isolation. Life slowly progressed: I recovered from COVID and then, months later, caught it a second time. My father texted me out of the blue, telling me that his heart surgery had gone well. I gave him my congratulations. It had been scheduled years ago, but somehow, I had forgotten all about it. There was no new development in my search for the Sanatorium — except one. I had been trawling internet archive sites, figuring if Anthony found his game on a freeware site long ago, the host must have since died. I now alternated my searches between the words 'sanitarium' and 'sanatorium'. In my hours of searching, I finally found a file called GBSanatorium.exe. There was no information, only a file directory and a download link. I pressed the button. The file was only 32 megabytes, a single executable. I clicked on it, and clicked away the blue Windows Smartscreen warning. My computer screen flickered black, then went back to the Downloads folder, where the .exe was housed. I waited and tried to run it again. Again, nothing happened. Only the black flicker of the screen. The app must have crashed. It was an old file, so I tried every compatibility mode, tried running it on other machines. To this day, I've made no progress. — So if anyone has played this game, or has been to the Green Belt Sanatorium, or has even heard anything about it — Please, let me know. I'm going crazy here. Because night after night, I have those dreams where I'm not myself, wandering the halls of a place that shouldn't be, reading page after page of blank paper, and waking up not knowing who I am, where I was, or who I am about to become. \[ [—](https://www.reddit.com/user/sleepless-suburbia/submitted/) \]

He Who Mourns the Pious

xude1c

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xude1c/he_who_mourns_the_pious/

Dad was... eccentric. I suppose that's the kindest way to describe someone like him. He was incredibly religious... to a fault. He tithed well over twenty percent and knew the Bible front to back. That's not to say we were ever hitting for money. Dad was incredibly wealthy; when we asked him where his money came from, he would always just say: "The Lord provides." Well, that provision ran out when he got Parkinson's. Dad wasn't built like Hulk Hogan or anything, but he was no slouch. "Your body is a temple, son! I won't let mine fall into disrepair!" He would say with a bright smile on our Saturday morning bike rides. That temple became a weak, shaky cottage after the Parkinson's got him. As the years went by, I watched my hero deteriorate, but he still held tight to his faith in all of it. He would pray, tithe, read his Bible— all of that stuff. And he still managed to make time for Mom and the rest of us. It was almost supernatural the way he continued on as the disease wrecked his body. The signs of his impending death were obvious. Lack of mobility, difficulty speaking and thinking straight... That's what made one of the last conversations we had so strange. I was sitting by his bed one day, scrolling through my phone and keeping him company, when he started to sit up, "Alex." I dropped my phone and quickly moved to help him sit up, propping him against his pillows. "Alex, I need to tell you something..." His breathing was labored and despite my cautioning for him to stop talking, he insisted it was important. "When I was a young boy, I got very sick. We weren't sure what it was and the doctors weren't either. I wasn't really religious at the time and neither were my folks." He stopped to take a breath and leaned back against the pillows. "But we all prayed. Me most of all. I was a kid; didn't want to die so young. One night, at the hospital, I was alone in the room when a man came in. He was wearing a dark purple cloak that seemed to cast a shadow on all of his features. He was crying as he sat down... sniffling. He told me that he was so sad I was sick and that he was mourning for me." My dad's brow furrowed as he recounted the memory. "I didn't know who he was and when I asked his name, he just said 'The Mourner.' Now, I didn't know much as a boy, but I put two and two together. I thought he was one of those priests they send into the room when you're going to die to talk about the Lord and stuff. Still, couldn't see a face or body under the robe." I wasn't sure where this story was going; was it just the Parkinson's? He'd never told me this before and my father *loved* to tell stories. "Anyhow, he told me he had a deal for me. He had talked with The Man Upstairs and they'd agreed that if I agreed to be faithful and to live a righteous life, I'd live quite a while and have quite the go of it. I figured I had nothing to lose, so I agreed." He looked me in the eyes with as serious an expression as ever, "and when I tell you that the next day I was right as rain, I'm not kidding. All of my sickness was just gone. I figured that since that guy had lived up to his end of the bargain, I should too. So, I devoted my life to being righteous for the Lord. Now, I'm not a perfect man, but I did my best. I ended up loving it. Had a great life with a great family." "Why are you telling me this, dad? Why now?" I asked, confused by the story and its purpose. "He'll be at my funeral, son. Call it a gut feeling. But The Mourner, whether he's man or angel or something else, needs to be treated with the utmost respect. You hear me? No one is to say an unkind word to him or do anything out of line. I need you to promise me to make sure you all follow that rule." Dad gripped my hand tightly... impossibly right for someone so weak. "Promise me." He seemed really intense, so I agreed, mostly just to calm him down. That seemed to placate him and, soon enough, he'd laid back down to rest. I talked to my mother about it and she seemed unsurprised. She said that dad had told her about this as well a few days ago. We both chalked it up to his disease affecting his mind and went on with our day. The day of his funeral, a veritable congregation of people had shown up. Dad had reached a lot of people and done good in a lot of lives. Friends, family, colleagues — they were all here. I scouted the crowd for this cloaked man, but didn't see him. Maybe a part of me thought dad was actually telling the truth. I shook the thought from my head and gave the eulogy. There were tears aplenty as we moved into the viewing. Dad had wanted an open casket, so that's what we did. Then, he showed up. One moment, the space in front of his casket was empty and the next, a wailing man stood in front of it. The entire room hushed as the cloaked figure stood screaming out in anguish. I'd never heard a man make noises like that before! The intense sadness seemed almost theatric. We waited for a few moments, but the man did not let up. He kept wailing with his back to the room. The cry was deep and hoarse, like he had been crying for a tone far longer than just this moment. To everyone else, this was just a very awkward man's display of sorrow. To my mother and I, this was confirmation of what dad had told us. At least in some part. Maybe he was one of dad's friends and dad had romanticized their meeting in a way. I don't know. In that moment, I wasn't sure. I wasn't even sure what to do. I felt this pang of sadness inside of me. I had already bawled and cried for the loss of my father, but this was different. It felt more... existential? Holy? It felt as if the world had lost something truly great and I was just coming to terms with it. I was paralyzed as my emotions swirled inside of me. The sadness was overwhelming, but there was a fear as well. This sadness was not my own... It had been put there. Some force had planted it in my mind and that unnerved me. I wasn't even aware that the man had stopped wailing and had approached me. "I am truly sorry for your loss," came his voice. It sounded deep and old and like it came from deep within him. I felt something clasp around my hands and looked down to see two shadowy hands holding mine. I fought the instinct to recoil in fear. Dad had said to respect this... man, so I would. "T-thank you," I stuttered, any foreign emotion now drowned out by the primal fear I had within me. "How did you know my father, if you don't mind me asking?" I looked up and into the cloak, only inky darkness filling its void. "As the Son of Man knew Lazarus and wept for him, so too I weep. I am his tears for his friend and his cry in Gethsemane made form. I am mourning. I am sorrow. I am rejoicing. I am laughter. Those deemed righteous by Him are honored by my presence in their final days as I perform a symphony of sorrows for them to honor their life well-lived." He replied, his hands still holding mine. They were cold and icy despite seemingly being just shadows. His cryptic speaking did nothing to answer my many questions, least of all the one I had asked. I was about to say something when he spoke up. "So, Alex, will I weep for you as well one day?" The question lingered as did his missing presence. At the finality of his words, he vanished without a trace. Those words have echoed in my mind ever since along with the many questions they brought. He did provide me with comfort that my father truly is in a better place. This whole ordeal has brought to mind something that I had long since categorized as an odd dream and forgotten it: When I was a child, I became sick much like my father at his age. Only, the man who showed up next to my bed wasn't crying. He was laughing.

my boyfriend brought a skinwalker to my house.

xu9fxu

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xu9fxu/my_boyfriend_brought_a_skinwalker_to_my_house/

“Yee naad-” “Natalie, I swear to God, if you say that word I’ll kick you out of my car and leave you on the side of the road,” Hailey threatened. Yee naaldlooshii is what I was *trying* to say to my friend Hailey. In case you don’t know what that is, that’s the Navajo name for a skinwalker. I just found this out not too long ago, too. Skinwalkers are an interesting Navajo legend - basically, they’re like shapeshifters. I know a lot of people who live out in the secluded countryside that have claimed to see them. I, personally, never saw one before. Not until my idiot boyfriend brought one to my house. Now, before my boyfriend told me about his skinwalker stalker, I had always teased Hailey about them. We would drive through secluded areas at night, just for the thrill of what lies in the darkness, but she wasn’t a fan when I brought them up in her car. I’d make comments about them just to freak her out. *Hailey, what if we saw a deer standing on its hind legs in the field next to us?* *What if you saw yourself sprinting behind the car in the rear view mirror right now?* Despite my teasing, I really did believe in skinwalkers. I’ve always believed in legends and supernatural beings like that, and it was interesting to learn about, not that I really did that much deep diving into the subject. But what I did learn freaked me out. You would think that would keep me from making jokes about it in prime skinwalker territory, but not all of us have that much common sense. I’m not the only one though. Like I had mentioned before, I don’t believe my jokes are what brought one to my house. You see, my boyfriend lives out in the countryside, with lots of open space around him. He’s always mentioned how he felt like something was stalking him out there, watching as he moved from his car to the house. He always kind of assumed it was some type of freaky animal. His suspicions were confirmed but it wasn’t exactly what he thought it was. According to him, he saw a skinwalker in the field when he came home from my place one night. “Gavin, come on. You didn’t see a skinwalker.” “Nat, I’m telling you, most animals aren’t that tall. And their eyes don’t glow green.” “How much sleep did you get?” He gave me a disapproving look. His claim was that the night before, when he got home, he saw a tall, looming creature watching him from the tree line with bright green and glowing eyes. Now, like I said, I do believe in skinwalkers, but my boyfriend also doesn’t get much sleep, so of course I figured he was hallucinating something watching him. “I wasn’t hallucinating. There was a skinwalker at my place, and I saw him, and I literally almost pissed my pants. I promise, I wasn’t imagining anything.” I caved in and told him I believe him, and as long as he didn’t conjure one up at my place that’s all that mattered to me. Then we went to bed and never saw any skinwalkers again. That should’ve been the happy ending of this story, right? Nope. I really didn’t think about it the next day. I mean, I live in a pretty busy area. It’s not exactly where you would think most skinwalkers reside, but maybe some have a preference for bigger cities. More people to stalk, I guess. Throughout the day, I had been cleaning the house, getting it ready for the week ahead. Since I work close to forty hours a week, I really don’t have much time to clean so I basically just do it when I can. Time flew by, and at 8:40 PM all I had to do was take out the trash. It’s around the time of year where night falls pretty early, so I had to take the trash out in the dark. Normally that wouldn’t really bother me, but because of my boyfriend’s little tale that I happened to remember at that moment, it freaked me out. Just a little bit, not enough to piss my pants like some other people. When I stepped outside and heard a low growl, maybe that was closer to pissing-my-pants territory. My neighbors do have a little pitbull that they leave chained up outside (ridiculous), so I just blamed the noise on him. That’s the most reasonable explanation, and to keep myself from freaking out, I had to stay reasonable. Then I saw the eyes. Not pitbull eyes. Not any dog’s eyes. Nothing even remotely close to a normal animal or even human. And they weren’t even green, so at least my boyfriend’s skin walker stayed behind. All I could see in the darkness of my neighbor’s yard was two glowing red eyes. Maybe this was a good time to piss my pants, and God only knows I was close. I’ve always heard the term fight or flight, and I figured I would be a flight type of girl. I was right. I threw the bags on the ground and basically flung my body back to the front door, frantically trying to turn the knob to get it to open. I heard twigs break under someone’s steps, and that’s when I pissed my pants. I guess I am more of a baby than my boyfriend after all. The door slammed loudly behind me, but nothing could mask the growling noise I heard from the other side of the glass. Because it was so dark, I really couldn’t make out more than a silhouette, but the silhouette was enough to make me go from pissing myself to shitting myself. The outline looked sort of… fuzzy, like it had some type of hair on its body. The worst part were its eyes - somehow they were even brighter than they were before, a piercing and sinister red. I had already locked the knob (thank God I’ve formed that habit), but I needed to find my keys to fully lock the door. I didn’t want to take my eyes off of whatever was on the other side of that glass, but I knew I had to. It had to be tonight that my keys weren’t hanging on the hook where I usually kept them. I’ll remember this the next time I toss them on my desk. When I turned back around from grabbing my keys, those glowing red eyes were no longer staring at me. Somehow that made this entire situation way worse. I needed to see where he was, where he was stalking me from. I couldn’t really focus on that at the moment, so I hurried towards the door, locked it with my key, and closed the inside door. The windows were all closed and locked, so I knew that he couldn’t get inside without me hearing some resistance. It took about three hours for me to finally calm down, but until then I kept my eyes open. I barely blinked until the stress from the situation turned into fatigue, and I could barely keep my eyes open. I didn’t feel the same presence as I did while I was outside, so maybe that was a good sign, but I really didn’t want to fall asleep. I felt vulnerable enough sitting in my bed, a hammer and mace next to me of course. But I did. I fell asleep (in my piss soaked pants, might I add) and woke up the next morning, alive. I didn’t feel alive. I felt like ten years had been taken off my life. But I was breathing and I wasn’t hurt - not physically at least. *Oh, shit. Gavin. I need to tell Gavin.* 10:34 AM. He was probably asleep, but at that point I really didn’t care, so I facetimed him. I saw myself in the front view camera. My eyes were bloodshot and puffy, probably from keeping them open for so long. I guess this kind of freaked Gavin out. “Nat? What the hell? Did you-” I know it’s rude to interrupt, but I had to cut him off. I’m sure he probably didn’t understand most of what I said considering I was basically racing through the story, but his face at the end of my story told me that he understood enough. And he actually believed me, probably because I looked like I had the life sucked out of me. I haven’t felt the presence of that… thing since that night, and it’s been two nights since I saw those red eyes outside my door, but I have a feeling it isn’t going to leave me alone forever. I just hope that next time I’ll be prepared, even though it’s pretty hard to prepare for a skinwalker attack. But if I do get attacked, blame my idiot boyfriend since he basically summoned it to my front door. Maybe I'll get him to kill it for me.

My uncle tried to warn me never to go back to my old home. My family had horrific secrets there they'd tried to keep buried for years. Part One

xu5rjj

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xu5rjj/my_uncle_tried_to_warn_me_never_to_go_back_to_my/

**Ding** *Huh?* **Ding** *What the—* **Ding** I put the pillow over my head and went back to sleep. *They can wait. Probably fuckin’ Kate again with a damn booty call or some shit. Doesn’t she ever get enough?* **Ding** I groaned, still ignoring the phone. *I swear to God, I will flush it down the toilet if it doesn’t SHUT THE FU—* **VVE, VVE, VVE** *”Crazy train”* starts blaring from my phone. *Great, how am I supposed to ignore THAT?* By either a miracle or the grace of God, whoever the jackass was that decided it’d be appropriate to harass me over the phone at fucking 4 in the morning — *on a work night* — hung up before the first guitar riff ended. *Guess it wasn’t THAT important after all.* That’s what I thought anyways. Yet, here I am, unable to sleep because of what happened. How I hate irony, especially over something so trivial. What I wouldn’t have given now to have just sucked it up and answered that goddamn phone. It was Thursday morning last week that I got those texts and phone call. When I woke up again, at around I’d say 6:15 like usual, that was when I looked at the texts. They were from my uncle Don. I hadn’t seen or heard from him in years, not since our last family cookout about two or three years back, when I remember he, my father, and grandfather all got into a heated argument about... something. I never knew what it was then, nor did I ever bother to ask. All I knew was, it was enough to both drive uncle Don away from the family almost entirely, as well as put my father into an especially bad mood for a few days after (of course, it wasn’t like he was ever one to really be in a “good mood” anyway). And from that day, no one in my family would ever talk about him or bring him up. Then I saw the texts that morning. There were three of them, all misspelled, too, like he might’ve been in a hurry when he was typing them. **— “Jak, ples!”** **— “[DONT EVR GO HOME!](https://www.psychotoxin.com/?fbclid=IwAR3-rwRLKgt6B-fF8UHHdPL0307jiuOIW8TzjE7HQ08B1EawDDhWwb-PqtE)”** **— “The truth will kill U!”** Obviously, my first thought with this was *What the hell?* I’d known Uncle Don to be a bit of an oddball, but this seemed different. Somehow, I felt like I just knew these texts were genuine. He was panicking about *something*. But what? I looked at my voicemail. Sure enough, he’d actually left a message. I clicked on it to play the message. It was hard to hear, sounding like there was some kind of interference on the other end. *”Jack! Answer your phone, please!”* The message seems to pause for a moment, hearing only the static. When Uncle Don came back, he was shouting. *”Stay away from the house, Jack! It looks like me! It's coming for me, it’s too late! Stay away from home, while you still...”* The audio faded into complete white noise after that and continues for the last thirty seconds of the message. I immediately tried calling him then. Straight to voicemail, though. Both times. The second time, I left a message of my own, telling him to call me as soon as he got it. I didn’t hear back, though, and it was an entire day later before I ever found out why. It was the next morning, early. I'd been woken up to a knock at my door. Groaning, I shambled out of bed and went to answer. The knocking at the door was persistent, too. I hated when people did that. Peeping through the door, I saw that it was my sister, Lisa. She was in tears. *Oh God, he did it again, didn't he? Damn it, I thought she'd finally gotten rid of that rat bastard.* I could feel every muscle in me tense up as I gripped the doorknob. I was ready to throw the door open, embrace her as tight and close to me as possible, and demand the she tell me where that shit-heel boyfriend of hers, Francis, was. Another half-round of knocks sounded before I finally did open the door. "Oh God, Lana, are you okay?" I asked desperately. She sniffled. I pulled her close and said "Shhh, it's okay... It's okay." She sobbed in my arms for another minute before I gestured for her to come inside to talk about it. I'd have asked her the million dollar question right there on my porch if I wasn't still in my fuckin' boxers. Inside, I sat Lana down on the couch. I gave her another minute to clear herself up when she finally spoke. "Jack, Don... Uncle Don, he's... Oh god, he's dead, Jack." My eyes widened. "What?" I exclaimed. "When?" She sniffed, "Two days ago. They found him yesterday, though, after a neighbor reported screaming." *Two days ago...* My heart sank. *B-but that was when...* I looked at my phone. Up until then, I'd simply put the whole thing out of mind. I figured, if anything, I'd have gotten a call from him calling the while thing a hoax. "Wh-What happened?" "God, it was awful. Have you not seen the news?" I shook my head. Following the night he'd tried to call me, I hadn't managed to do much other than work. "They found him all over the place, Jack." "You mean like a break-in?" She shook her head wildly. "I don't know. They didn't tell me anything. All I know is somebody killed him, Jack." I hugged her again and offered to make some breakfast. She declined, though, saying she had to go. She left and I was alone in my living room again. *Murdered?* I wondered. I spent the next hour and a half or so trying to think of just *who* the hell would want uncle Don dead like that. I remembered him being the kind of guy to want to keep to himself most of the time. The guy didn't have many friends, sure, but I didn't think he'd made any real *enemies*, either. I mean, other than pissing off Dad and grandpa, but they wouldn't have wanted him *dead*, would they? I knew it wouldn't have been grandpa. He passed two years back. That'd leave Dad, then. Of course, I wasn't real set on the idea, though. I mean, again, it wasn't like he *hated* the guy. Even still, though, he was the only one that could tell me why he and grandpa shunned him for so long. I decided then to call up Dad, seeing if he'd want to meet somewhere for breakfast that morning. We ended up meeting at the Diner just across the street from the big shopping mall on the other end of town at around 11:00 that morning. I arrived early, with him only being about five minutes behind me. "Hey Jack." He said, smiling and pulling me in for a hug. "How've you been?" "I've uh... I've been okay." I replied, anxious to dive right in to the matter at hand. He sat down and the waitress came for drink orders. I ordered a large sweet tea while he got a cup of coffee; black, the only way he and grandpa would've drank it. "So what's got you giving me a ring?" I took a gulp of my tea and asked "You heard about Uncle Don?" His smile instantly fell. I took another swig of tea while he did the same with his coffee. Another moment passed between us in an awkward silence. "Yeah." he said finally, in an annoyed tone. "Has anyone said anything about how it might've happened? Any ideas of who it was, maybe?" He scoffed dryly. "No, don't really reckon they have." "Lana told me they think it might've been a break-in." "Not likely. The way my brother loved his guns, if anybody *was* damn stupid enough to try breaking in his house, I'd find it more likely it'd be the *other guy* they carried out of there on a gurney." He had a point there. Like most "bad uncles" you'd hear about, Uncle Don was very much an outdoorsman. I remember the times he'd take me and Lana hiking through the different mountain trails up in Grenview Pines. I also knew, at least when he still kept at least minimal contact with the family, that he'd go up there about every fall or so to take a holiday, usually to go hunting for deer, which he'd then bring over for Thanksgiving dinner that year. Christmas, too, if we were lucky. Point is, the man could shoot, and loved to do it. Therefore, like Dad said, robbery was ruled out of the equation for me. "Dad..." I began hesitantly. Dad looked up, clearly not comfortable with this conversation. To a degree, I almost wish I had just left it all there. "What happened between you two? I mean, you two used to be cool with each other. What happened at that family cookout?" This was when he stared coldly, intently, at me. I felt the urge to try walking back the question, but I didn't. I persisted. "Dad, what happened between you and Uncle Don?" "Son, I'm not in the mood for this right now, okay? let's drop the subject now, please." "But Dad, What if it has something to do with what happened?" He raised his eyebrow at me in alarm. "What do you mean?" he asked. "Well what if whoever did this was a part of whatever turned you two on each other in the first place?" He slowly shook his head. "No son," he said, sighing in utter annoyance, "It wasn't nobody that had anything to do with that. There wasn't anybody else involved in that. Not that *I'd* have known of anyhow." "What do you mean? What are you talking about, involved with *what?*" I stopped when he slammed his coffee mug down, eyeing me like a lunatic. "I said enough!" he growled. I shrank back down in my seat. "There's a damn good reason we stopped talking to each other, Jack. Our family's had enough to deal with without that son of a bitch carrying on the way he was, okay? And I hate that this happened, but damn it, I'm not getting sucked back into that shit again!" *"Again?"* I wondered, raising my eyebrows at him in confusion. I'd have probably pressed the question, had he not made it perfectly clear by that point that he was in absolutely no mood to continue the conversation. The waitress came back again and we ordered our food. I guess whatever it was between him and my uncle was enough for him to basically ruin his appetite, too, because he only ordered a slice of cheesecake with a small bowl of ice cream. We ate in a very tense silence and when he was finished, he silently got up, flung a $20 bill on the table and walked out of the diner without another word. I guess that, funny enough, was what ended up ruining *my* appetite and I ended up not even finishing my own plate of sausage and eggs. After paying and leaving the diner, I got in my car and was about to just head back home when I got another idea instead. I figured, if I was going to get any kind of answers as to what happened, I'd need to go to his house, myself. Of course, there was the immediate drawback to this idea, being that I was explicitly warned to stay away. At the same time, though, why? Just what was it that made the old family house so dangerous? I grew up in that house, and I couldn't remember anything horrible about it. But then, what was it that he was warning me about? *"It looks like me?" what does THAT mean? And what did Dad know about it?* All of these questions continued mounting higher and higher until I eventually caved and decided to make the 45 minute to an hour journey to the old family home. The whole way there, all I could think about was what uncle Don kept repeating through the phone. *"The truth will kill you!"* *What truth?* It had just gotten on 12:30 when I pulled into the driveway of the old family home in the backroads of Kings Mtn. The house sat there, surrounded on all sides by trees from the surrounding woods, looking every bit as quiet as I remembered it being. It looked every bit as old as I figured it would, too. It'd been the same house that, not only my father and uncle had grown up in, but where my grandparents had as well. The paint, which used to be a sort of beige, now faded into a more piss-yellow looking color. From where I was standing, I could see a few places where the window frames were cracked, with the one on the left side having an entire chunk missing from its bottom corner. Aside from that, though, it looked to me like it should. Nothing overtly wrong, you know? Just a normal house in the Kings Mtn. woods. Old as hell, but normal. I got out of the car and made my way to the house. *"Jack!"* I stopped. turning my head, I looked to see... nothing. I looked back for at least a minute before turning and continuing on to the house. *Must've been the wind,* I thought. Listening close, though, I realized the wind was quiet, too. Not even the leaves rustled on the nearby trees. Like I said, completely silent. Calm. Peaceful. I walked to the porch. beneath my feet, the old wood creaked loudly. I could feel them starting to give way beneath me. If I wasn't careful, the wood was for sure going to snap under my weight. I tried peeking through the window, but there was furniture or something blocking both of them. I went to open the door then. *"Jacky-boy..."* I stopped again. *What the hell?* I looked back again. Nothing. *But I heard that... I know I did...* I stood for another good ten or fifteen minutes, looking everywhere. But there was absolutely nothing around, save the trees. I closed my eyes and muttered under my breath, *"There's nothing there..."* Taking a deep breath, I opened my eyes and turned the door knob. The door took a bit of effort, but I was able to force it open. When I did, I ended up going into a small coughing fit from all the dust that'd been kicked up. Inside, it was dark; the electricity obviously having *long* since stopped working. Pulling out my phone, I clicked my flashlight on and began to walk around. Like the outside, everything *inside* looked perfectly normal as well, barring of course the collection of dust and cobwebs everywhere. I went around the ground level of the house, revisiting all the old rooms; one of which used to actually be mine. Every room still looked the same, like nothing had ever been moved or renovated since I moved out when I was 18. Hell, I even saw the old Metallica poster I had hanging on the wall just above my bedpost. As well as this, I even spotted some of the old family photos still hanging on the wall, along with all the old furniture. In short, the place hadn't been touched, despite being vacant for years. I found this odd. Wouldn't a realty company or something have come and at least *tried* to renovate? Also, how come neither mom, Lana, dad, or grandpa or uncle Don, who'd lived with us during that time -- like I said, close-knit family until the incident at the barbecue -- took any of their old belongings with them? The more I stood there, walking through that old house, the more I wondered if there was more to the falling-out with Uncle Don than I could've guessed, which obviously wasn't much, considering I didn't actually *know* what sparked the proverbial "powder keg". Still, though, I just had the feeling that it wasn't just standard fare family feud bullshit, either. *What truth was he talking about?* I decided then to go checking around the upstairs level. The stairs groaned as I stepped up each one of them, trying to be as gentle as possible. Admittedly, the creaking, mixing with the overall quiet stillness of the place DID start to kind of get to me a bit. You know, that feeling you get when you know you're completely alone, yet somehow you feel like you aren't. Like *something* or *someone* is there with you, somehow lingering just outside your line of sight, your blind spots? Cheesy, sure, but if you were there, you'd understand what I mean. Every room upstairs was the same as the ones below; still the way I remembered them looking back in the day, portraits, knick-knacks and all, still in the exact same place. Maybe I should clarify something; when I say the place looked the same or like it hadn't been touched since my family moved out, I don't mean that it looked cluttered or that things were strewn about, OR that everything had been neatly set. The rooms looked somewhere in between cluttered and organized. Basically, it looked like there were *supposed* to be people living there -- only without the people. Needless to say, this raised a mountain of questions with me; starting with why. Why had the house not been touched in... God knows how long, at least since the year after I moved out, when they ended up following me down to Dallas? Why did everything still *look* like people lived here when they hadn't? Why hadn't the realty company tried to sell it to anybody else? *Hell, did THEY even know it was empty?* *Why did Uncle Don want me to stay away from this place?* That brought up another question to me. If there *was* something wrong with this place, something that apparently drove my folks to literally just pick up and leave like that, and if he knew what it was, why did he go back to the house? All of these questions kept leading me back two things. First was the repeated question of what the hell happened at that family barbecue, and the second was if there really *was* something about that house, then what was it and how could it "kill me"? Deep down, I knew that these, Uncle Don's murder, as well as his cutting off from the family, and Dad's disapproval of any mentioning of him were all connected somehow. The only question then, was how. I also knew that, while me and Lana were growing up, there wasn't any mention or any way of letting on about anything bad. Unfortunately, that meant she wasn't likely to know anything, either. Not about the house itself, that is. Maybe though, I figured, it was worth a shot asking if she'd have known why Dad and Uncle Don fell out. I figured, if she *did* have any clues on that, then at least she could answer *that* question for me. More help than Dad was, anyways. I took out my phone and dialed Lana's number. It rang for the better part of a minute. *"Jack..."* I looked around again. *What the hell is that? Where's it coming fro--* "Hello?" Lana's voice snapped me back into focus. "Uh, Lana, hey... Listen, you doing anything right now?" I continued looking around the upstairs hallway. Nothing was there. *Then who was that saying my name?* "Jack, you there?" I heard her ask. "Yeah, I'm here, I asked what you were doing right--" "Jack? Hello, can you hear me? Something's going on on one of our ends, I can't hear anything. Everything's all fuzzy." I frowned. *Fuzzy?* I walked down the stairs to the living room. "How about now?" "Okay, I can hear you a little bit now. What's going on?" *"Come on down and pull up a chair, Jacky boy..."* I whirled around on my heels. Nothing. Just an empty kitchen. "Jack, hello?" "Oh, uh, yeah, um... What're you doing right now?" "I just got off work for the day. I'm on my way to Burger King to grab a quick bite from drive-thru before--" "Wait, uh..." I paused for a moment, looking around. *Who's speaking to me?* "C-Can I meet you there?" "Um... Sure. Jack, is everything okay?" "Y-Yeah, everything's..." *"Come join us for dinner, Jack... You've been gone so long, Mama's making something special."* Every joint in my body locked up. That sounded like Uncle Don. It was the same thing he'd used to tell me and Lana when I used to come back home from playing outside all day when I was a kid. "U-Uncle Don?" I muttered softly, shuddering as I stepped toward the kitchen. "What?" I was snapped back to Lana's voice again. "Huh?" "You said something, then you trailed off. Seriously, is everything okay? You're starting worry me a little here." I shook my head. "Yeah... Yeah, everything's fine. You're talking about the B.K. there on Rhodell Ave., right?" "Yeah." "'Kay, listen, go ahead on inside. I'll meet you there. I need to talk to you about something." "O-Okay..." I heard her say hesitantly. "I'll explain everything when I get there. Just sit tight, I'm about 15 minutes awa--" *"Come down to the basement, Jack. There's somethin' there you should see..."* I lowered the phone and ran into the kitchen. "Where are you? Come out, now!" "What?" Lana asked over the phone. I almost didn't notice. I *hadn't* noticed I'd actually said it out loud. "N-Nothing. I'll meet you at Burger King in 15. Love you." "Wait, Jack--" I hung up before she could go any further. For another minute, I stood there in the middle of the kitchen. *"Come on down, Jacky-boy... You should see this."* *See what?* I was stuck between the urge to want to follow the voice downstairs and wanting to run out of there, screaming like I was in a cartoon. Who was there, and why did it sound almost exactly like my Uncle? *"The truth will kill you, Jack! don't ever go back home!"* The voicemail continued cycling through my head on repeat. *"It looks like me! It's coming for me!"* That brought back a third element to all of this to join the two I mentioned earlier. Whoever it was that he was talking about; he, too must have some sort of connection to what happened at the family Barbecue. Which also means Dad and grandpa had at least *some* kind of knowledge or connection with them as well. One more question I'd have to try getting from Lana, I supposed. *How much COULD she actually have known? Could SHE have actually known Uncle Don's killer?* I slowly backed my way back out of the kitchen and made my way out to the front door. Before I left, I gave one last glance back to the living room. Everything was dark. Old and dusty. Quiet. *"The truth will kill you, Jack!"* I closed the door and ran over and hopped into my car, taking off and making a beeline for Burger King. I ended up pulling up around 5 minutes later than I told Lana. I checked my phone, checking to see if she'd tried texting me that she wasn't waiting any longer. Fortunately, she hadn't. I went inside and found her chewing on a chicken sandwich and a small fry. "Hey, sorry I'm late." "Oh, you're fine." She said, taking a sip of her large Pepsi. "I hope you don't mind." She gestured towards her food. "Oh no, you're fine." I replied, anxious. "Listen, there's some things I need to ask you about." She looked at me, urging me to go on as she took another bite of her food. "You remember the Family Barbecue three years ago?" She swallowed before pausing for a moment to think. "Not expressly." she replied. "I mean, I remember we were all there. It was the week leading to your 23rd birthday party, and everyone was all happy and excited for that. I remember that was also the last time I saw Uncle Don." I swallowed and asked, "Lana, do you have any idea why Uncle Don stopped showing up to family gatherings?" She paused for another moment before shaking her head. "Not really. I mean, he and the old man kind of got into it, I remember." "What about?" She looked at me confused. "The argument, You have any clue as to what it was about?" Again, she shook her head. "I mean, I remember hearing them start raising their voices at each other a bit and, at least from what *I* could see, it almost looked to me like they were gonna start trading licks before granddad stepped in and broke the two up. After that, I just remember Uncle Don leaving without another word." "You didn't happen to hear anything that was said, do you?" "Not really. Well, I think I heard something about something or somebody in the basement of the old house. Yeah, something about Uncle Don seeing something in the old basement. Couldn't hear *what* though. That was the last time I'd seen Uncle Don before... Well..." She looked down at her sandwich like she was unsure she wanted to finish it anymore. "He never tried to reach out to you?" I asked. She looked back up at me, raising her eyebrow in confusion again. "No." she answered worriedly. "Jack, seriously, what's going on? You've been anxious ever since the phone call. What happened?" I sighed. I opened my mouth to speak, but stopped. I could hear *"Crazy Train"* playing in my pocket. I gestured to Lana to wait a moment before taking my phone out. It was a call from Dad. I got up and walked outside and answered. "Hello? Da--" "Jack!" Dad's voice shouted. My heart immediately jumped into my throat. "Jack, it's after me!" "Dad, what's going on?!" I could tell from his voice that he was panicking. Something was wrong. "Jack, you have to get out of here! Right now, you have to get out of town and--". his words were cut off when he let out a bloodcurdling shriek before being abruptly silenced. "Dad?! *DAD?!"* "You left, Jack..." This voice was different. It wasn't Dad's. It was the voice from earlier in the house; Uncle Don's voice. "You left before the the reunion, Jack. It'd *really* mean a lot to the folks if you'd come. Lana, too. We want the *whole* family." My joints were frozen stiff. My blood felt like it'd frozen solid inside my body. Dad was in trouble. *Who is this, and why does he sound just like Uncle Don?* "So come on home, Jack. We'll all be waitin' for you. Even the old man, here." The call ended after that. I tried calling the number back, trying to talk to the person again, but it cut to voicemail all three times I tried. It was clear, I had to go back to the house again. I went back inside strode back to the table. Lana looked up at me, worried. "Jack, is everything okay? Who was--" "We have to go." I said, cutting her off. "Wh-What happened?" "It's Dad, he's in trouble, look we have to go, now!" "Wait, what do you mean, what kind of trouble?" I looked at her, trying to signal to her that now *really* wasn't the time for questions. Not only because Dad was in danger, but because I, myself, was just as fucking clueless. She reached out to me and said, "Jack, please. tell me what's going on." I retracted. "Look, here's what happened; the night Uncle Don was killed, he tried to reach out to me." I pulled out my phone and brought up the text messages. "He was trying to tell me something about the old house, something about some "truth" or something, I don't know. I went there and I didn't see anything, but now, somebody or something from there has Dad, okay? There, now *come on!*" She stared in shock at the phone. I reached out and grabbed her arm to lead her out. "Wait, where're we even going?" I looked at her, anxiety plastered all across my face, and replied, "Home." r/CorpseChildGospels [Next](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xv1l4n/my_uncle_tried_to_warn_me_never_to_go_back_to_my/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf)

Never gift someone a Signet Ring without knowing its origin.

xujzos

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xujzos/never_gift_someone_a_signet_ring_without_knowing/

I still can’t believe that, it happened just because of my mistake. Maybe it’s a clear example of an important lesson of life which specifies that you shouldn’t do anything in a hurry without knowing what can be the possible outcome. I am a Lawyer and I have some very close friends in the firm. One of them is “B” as I don’t want to reveal his name but I’ll address him by the first letter of his name. So, this “B” and I were at the same collage, from there he was one my very close friends. “B” was an introverted guy. He didn’t like to talk much in public interactions like parties or group meetings. I was the one who made him recognized by more people. In this profession you really need to grow your popularity. In the weekends we had been hanging out in the bars together. He shared many things with me like how he could notice changes in his personality because of me. I also shared my thoughts about my life and workplace. In the bars I and B tried to pick up girls but I am an absolute loser when it comes to talking with the girls. So, on that Friday Night it wasn’t a surprise that I couldn’t score a single girl at the bar. I was sipping just another 60ml neat Bourbon at the counter tiredly watching the bartender preparing another cocktail for another customer and all of a sudden I heard B’s voice from behind. ‘Meet my friend here!’ I turned around and witnessed the miracle. B is with a girl laying his left hand on her shoulder and pointing at me with the other hand with an introductory gesture. He introduced me to her and explained that he talked with the girl and she liked him and they are planning to date. ‘That’s very nice. You two are looking very good with each other.’, I said masking my harmless envy. B was also like me but maybe that day it was his luckiest day of his life. That girl’s name was “C” (as I don’t want to reveal her name too). As they told me they found so much thing in common between them and they also liked each other’s company. They started dating soon after that intervention. I was happy for them. It’s good to know my friend will be happy. It’s not a surprise that they will fix a date for their marriage very soon. That girl named “C” is very friendly in nature as I got to know her by small interactions. She might be the best partner to my friend I believe. She is not that attractive in my opinion but her behavior was very pleasing. I lead a very busy life from morning to evening. I don’t like being alone in life but throughout the days I forgot my mental pain by the pressure of work. But one day B told me that his marriage has been fixed on next week. ‘Hay, that’s a great news. Congrats!’, I replied. ‘Yes, I have made my decision. C will be my wife and I love her so much.’ The conversation ended with extreme positiveness. His marriage had been fixed next week. According to our traditions it is customary to the invited one to give a gift or gifts to the couple on the ceremony day. I am his closest friend and I had to give him a benevolent gift. But it was very difficult to acquire certain stuffs within this short period of time. I definitely couldn’t buy stereotypical things for gift like perfume or wine bottles like most of the regular people would do. I needed to make it very special. I called a female friend of mine who could give me some effective advices about places and shops where I could find appropriate trinkets for the wedding gift. ‘So, what kind of gift are you thinking about?’, she asked. I said, ‘Like certain things which can remind him of me and which will be a very glamorous memento or alike.’ ‘Then I think I know one place where you can find certain ready-made ornaments like signet rings, glossy bracelets or necklaces.’ ‘But what if those are extremely expensive and I can’t afford them?’ ‘Don’t worry. Those are all used products but in good condition. So, the prices should be affordable. Also, those stuffs have an antique feel to it when they are used.’ I agreed with her and decided to visit the shop alone after work which she prescribed and gave all the details about the location. Still three days left for the wedding day. Let’s buy something memorable for my friend. It was a very mysterious place so deep into the popular market area in the city. A small lane among the queues of old fashioned buildings with no street-lights on the path. It’s the near evening time and the only sources of light were coming from those buildings to the lane. I was walking through the lane following the address and as directed by a stationary shop-owner before entering this dark lane. Finally, after walking a healthy distance down the lane I found a small shop-like structure on one side. It was very difficult to tell whether it was opened or closed as the interior had no light lightened up nor it had any sign board as I could observe through the glass door. The structure was made of asbestos or tin-like material mostly but has a door like most other jewellery shops has. The shop had no name so it was very difficult to identify the exact location and the address was the only option. As I was observing the entrance of the structure, the door suddenly moved inwards covering one side of the door with complete darkness and a very sharp voice of an old lady came from inside. ‘Do you want anything, sir?’ I was startled by the voice and managed to reply, ‘Is this the trinket shop with second hand items?’ ‘Yes! Come in.’ The interior was lightened up as I pushed the door and entered the shop. It was a very short old lady with some kind of tribal attire. The face of the lady was full of Acnes and one yellow tooth was making its way to light from invisible lips of curled in the mouth of her. The skin colour was also very dark as she can be completely invisible in any dark room. ‘We have large collection of beautiful trinkets in our shop. What kind of stuffs you are looking for, sir?’ There was no single soul other than me and that lady in that shop and still she is saying “we” as collective entities to represent the commercial institute. The interior of the shop was filled with different ornaments and trinkets as it’s making very difficult to discover the colour of the walls also the light of the shop was not really as bright to see through clearly the closets with transparent glass doors of it. I specified, ‘Actually I am planning to gift my friend a nice-looking ring on his wedding day.’ ‘That’s a great idea, sir. Let me show you the varieties.’ The lady brought out a huge maroon colored wooden box and put that on the ground. The box is looking like an ancient hoard which contains thousand mysteries or treasures in it. In simple words, it was like pirates’ treasure-chest. The lady slowly opened the lid of the box and many sections of ring-holding slots were revealed inside of which it was partially filled but every ring that were peeking its signet out of it were truly gorgeous. There were large variety of rings including certain stone rings and signet rings. But I liked the collection of signet rings most. I observed the variety for maybe three or five minutes looking through every designs and symbols but the one which shined the most than other ring to me was a very unique looking signet ring with a symbol of unicorn beautifully curved on it. In the older days this kind of rings were used maybe to put the symbol of kingdoms or any company on the wax seal of mails and parcels. The ring could be put on most popularly on the middle and ring finger and the position of the signet symbol which located in the fist could be placed gently on the wax to put the mark on the wax. ‘Can I have a closer look of this one?’, I asked pointing at that ring. ‘Ah! You have a great choice, sir. Here you go.’, She pinched up the ring and put it on my palm of right hand. Absolutely remarkable creation! As I was looking at the ring holding it with my own fingers I cannot describe the mesmerising artwork in words. The ring was made of silver and the band of the ring was a little bit more thicker than usual rings. Not a surprise that, the signet will be much bigger in size to manage the ratio of the ring. The most beautiful part was definitely the symbol of that unicorn caved in the royal shaped signet making the whole thing more than perfect in my eyes. ‘Alright, I’ll buy this one. How much is it?’, I bought the ring after few negotiations even though the final price was a bit outside the budget. But after the payment she warned me, ‘Be careful with that, sir. It was a ring belonged to an inhuman criminal back in the days.’ ‘What do you mean by being careful? And why are you telling this after I’ve made the purchase?’ ‘I am letting you know what you should know that’s why. We don’t take returns anyways, sir.’, she laughed a weird pale smile. Returning to my home I couldn’t stop looking at the ring. Should I keep it for myself? The though flashed into my mind. B helped me a lot of times and that’s why I planned to make the gift very special for him to show true gratitude. But the ring is so beautiful. Should I try putting it on and try once to see if it looks good on me or not? No, I shouldn’t do it because it can get stuck to finger and it would be a trouble if that happens. I just put that in the small box of it and promised myself to never look at it and make it into a nice gift-wrapped piece so it looks presentable when I give it to B on his wedding day. It was the wedding day but I reached there when it was night as the party was timed. I met him and gave the gift to him. ‘Hey, there was no need for such things. Let’s see what you have brought for me.’, he unwrapped the gift and put out the ring. ‘Wow! That is truly amazing. Thank you my friend.’ He put on the ring on his middle finger of his left-hand and it surprisingly made a perfect fit for him. Also, it looked rather gorgeous on him! Everyone including his newly married wife C admired me for such outstanding gift. Everything was fine but after putting on the ring, B started to behave a little bit unusual which was easier to me to notice than others. For example, he loved having sweet deserts after meal but that day he didn’t took his favourite deserts. Also, the style of talking and body language was changed. But that’s not in a bad way though I mean it was different than usual. He started cracking jokes on serious emotional stuffs which were definitely not suitable for a gentleman like him. People who were invited in the party were looking at him strangely as they were also able to see the change in him. The next working day I visited the firm on time morning but there was no sign of B. Maybe it was because his marriage but B never came late until that day to the firm. Eventually, he came almost two hours late to the firm. The boss was definitely not happy about that. I heard them arguing in the office. B never argues with anyone so it was very strange to know that he argued with boss on that day. Day by day a very furious man was introducing himself in the behavior of B. B has changed a lot. Is this because of his marriage? Maybe his life has changed too. These kinds of assumptions were being made by other colleagues. But, I had an additional thought. Is it because of the ring I gifted him one that day? I noticed an immediate change in him while he wore that ring. The shopkeeper also told me that it belonged to a criminal. But what did she meant by being careful? Can a person be changed to another just by putting on a ring? It was evening time in the office. I decided to talk with him about his change of behavior and what others thought about it. I met him in his cubicle and asked him, ‘Is everything ok?’ ‘What kind of question is that?’, he was typing something on his laptop but gave me a straight eye glare to me while replying. ‘You are acting strange. It’s like your personality has changed massively or something.’ ‘Has it? If so, then what’s your problem?’ ‘That’s why I asked that question.’ ‘Don’t you have other works to do than to worry about me? Let it go of your head. Let’s have some tea.’ His soft and pleasant personality was gone; a new very confident and dominative person had took over that place. He shouted for tea and the brat from canteen came for order. ‘Make us two cups of tea at once!’, even if the brat was standing right in front of him, B still shouts without any reason. After the brat went to make tea, B suddenly asked me, ‘Have you ever felt like some persons should be eliminated from this world for ever? Don’t you think some people should get tortured for their deeds?’ That’s a very strange question but I replied anyways, ‘If someone commits any crime or does something unlawful then the police and the court will steps for that. We are lawyer and our job is to deal with these kinds of people too.’ ‘That’s not what I meant. Do you really think the court can do justice to everyone effectively? It’s nothing delightful as when you execute those who deserved it with your own hands.’ Already, the brat had come and put the cup on the table. The tea cups were not releasing any steam in the air as it was not hat hot maybe. ‘Why these are cold?’, B asked the brat. ‘It’s not cold, sir.’, the brat timidly answered. I know that tea can be hot even if it does not have steams. So, I tried to simplify the situation, ‘Let’s just have the tea. I think it’s hot because the outer area of the cup is very warm.’ All of a sudden, B stood up from his chair charging toward the brat and clinched the brat chocking his neck by his right arm mostly but the other hand also joins the hand-guillotine. There was no way for the brat make any kind of noise or sound through his mouth as the choke is getting tighter and tighter making his breathing nearly impossible. I rushed into them and tried to lose him up from B’s clutches. I was already startled by sudden brute charge by B. But I need to manage the situation at any cost. ‘Have you lost your mind? What are you doing? Let him go!’, I screamed. There was no other people in the office, so no one was in or near the room. No one will come so I only have to stop that. ‘I asked why is the tea is cold?’, he addressed the brat chocking him continuously. I have no other option. I punched aiming right on B’s nose and it landed. Some tears came out of his eyes as the impact was no joke. He dropped down to the ground finally leaving the brat standing and coughing. The brat ran outside as he was terrified. ‘You have become a complete monster.’, I said. ‘Huh, did you felt that? Sometimes you have to take action immediately no matter if it gets brutal or not to make the justice work.’, B was laughing looking at me from the ground. I came to my home after that. What the hell I just witnessed? I was still thinking about B at my dinner table. It was far opposite to what B was in the older days. I laid on my bed after dinner and was still remembering the brutal face when he was chocking the brat. If he chocked him a little more time it could send the brat to deep sleep. How could he be changed to this monster? I lived alone at home so no one was there to share what happed that day. But I really wanted to talk about this as it was a great shock to me. Thinking these I fell asleep. That night I had a weird dream that I still remember today. It was B but his face was partially burnt. The chin and left cheek were burnt to black of his face as he is approaching me in the void. B was looking furious and was coming towards me slowly raising his both hand towards me. The hands had overly grown nails like demons and the whole appearance was very intimidating as a pair of horns on the head could turn him into a complete form of Satan. B was like a devil coming through the shadows in that dream. I wanted to run away but when I turned around and saw a women shaped figure covering its face to half of its body with long dark hairs was standing just behind me. That figure was much closer to me and when it raises it’s blood-covered hand upon me, I woke up. What a horrific dream it was. It was about 5 a.m. in the morning. I was still thinking about the dream sitting on my bed, but all of a sudden my telephone started to rang. I picked up the receiver and heard a shocking news from a known policeman. C was found dead with a kitchen-dagger stabbed deep into her heart and B was missing from the house. The police wanted to ask me questions as I was the last person who talked to him before leaving the office. I immediately went to the spot. My heart was beating heavily. The police asked me about the last conversation between me and B. I stated that at least there was no conversation about C that night. I still cannot believe that happened. The police are very confident about their assumption that B killed his wife C last night and flew away from the house. The footprints and other investigations were still in process. Did B really kill his wife? Why I had the weird dream in the same night? Did the Signet Ring which I gave it to B, turned him into another person? Why B’s personality and behaviour was changed in last couple of days? If he really killed his wife then what was the reason behind that? Maybe they had a heated debate or some kind of arguments between them but even so why a murder had to happen? Where is B now? There were so many questions in my head. From there, I had to venture into the firm. I felt the absence of B greatly. I couldn’t concentrate on the job. I was going to have a coffee from the tap located in the corner of the office and when I was about to pour the coffee in the plastic-cup a terrifying thing happened. I was still thinking about the disturbing question continuously in my mind so when I was pouring the coffee in the cup I was looking at the other way absentmindedly. But when I took a sip standing near the tap still looking at a trash-bean I felt a metallic and salty taste, which surprised me. When I saw the inside of the cup, my whole body shivered. It was blood! ‘What is this!’, I screamed. Another colleague was nearby and he startled by my sudden scream. ‘What’s the matter?’, he asked me. ‘Why is there blood in the coffee-machine?’, I showed him the cup. ‘What are you talking about? Are you ok?’, he was looking at me frowning. ‘Can’t you see? There’s blood in the cup which I got from the machine.’ ‘The cup is empty and the coffee machine is not working since the morning. I think, you should go home now.’ What? I looked into the cup again and saw that it was empty but a couple of minutes ago it was filled with blood! What is happening? I decided to leave the office early that day. When I left the exit door from the office I remembered there was a short-cut path to a bus-stop which goes right near my house otherwise I had to board more than one vehicle. I took the narrow and lonely path towards the bus-stop. The lamp-posts were not very bright here. I was walking at a side of the road. There was no one on the road. Suddenly I felt like someone was watching me from behind! I turned around but no one was there. I stopped walking. I was hearing something whispering into my ears. The whispering sound was keep getting louder a little by little but was getting more difficult to understand to what it was try to say. Was that my hallucination? I don’t know but I could feel an energy working its way around my body. I could feel the cold wind passing down my spine. I was sweating heavily. I could not bear the situation and all of a sudden, there was a figure of a man standing in front of me when I looked straight to the road. It was much more taller than me and the face was covered by the fedora-hat shadow on its face. When the man raised his chin a little-bit I was truly frightened. It’s B ! His left-cheek is burnt. He was not that tall as I recall. He raised his hands revealing the huge claws with sharpened brute-beast-like nails on it. ‘Thanks for giving me re-birth.’, that was not B’s voice and it was much more deeper than usual. ‘What are you doing here? Why did you kill C?’, I still couldn’t confront myself. ‘Can’t you see I’ve become a much stronger version of me?’ I was already terrified by this sudden intervention. My Head is spinning and I couldn’t really breathe comfortably. I managed to utter, ‘What do you want from me now?’ ‘Come closer. Join me friend!’, he tried to come more closer to me. I had enough. I started to run to the opposite direction down the road. ‘Don’t be scared! It’s a great instinct which you gifted me!’, he was still chasing me shouting meaningless things. I ran out of breath eventually but I had run far from him. I needed to regain my stamina and was panting on the road. Suddenly, I felt another person’s presence behind me but it was different than B’s. It was milder than that. More like a thin unearthly energy making its way to reality. I felt a very cold hand on my shoulder but there was no sign of any single soul near me. Another hand also joins gripping my right hand wrist tightly behind my back. I didn’t know what kind of deadly nightmare is this? Wait, is it a dream or reality? I was praying to God to my heart’s content to make it a dream. That unearthly spirit has grabbed a good amount of hair on the back of my head and the right-hand stuck behind me. ‘Now, you cannot escape, my dear sweet little friend.’, B was laughing menacingly discovering me hopeless in front of him. He had found me maybe by the struggling sound of mine. I had no energy left to take any action at that point. B was approaching me by making small steps. I was totally arrested by some unknown but powerful spirit. All in all it was a complete mess. I didn’t recall anything more than that of the night. I was found passed out on the road next morning by the locals. My body was unharmed but there was a mark of Unicorn punched on my right cheek . No matter what I said, no one is going to believe me. But what was that I experienced that night? What was that feeling? What did B wanted from me? Will I meet B again?

I shouldn't have pushed my luck

xuu4wz

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xuu4wz/i_shouldnt_have_pushed_my_luck/

The day started out as normal I went out and went to catch fish as I'm a fishermen. I got onto my old and rusted boat. Old reliable grace is what I called her. A memoir to my mother. She passed away from cancer and I became buried in debt. I had to work even harder than usual. I was constantly pushing my luck and always taking bare minimum supplies needed for fishing trips. Before I went out, I turned on my radio. Tuned it to the weather channel. Hearing the lady's  voice say "prepare everybody, make sure to put a healthy dose of sunscreen as it'll be sunny today and for the next few days".  I kept it on for a little bit before it got too distracting while I was fishing. Usually I'm not too far from the shore but I needed a bigger haul and couldn't get much fish. Because of this I had crept further and further away from the shore. Further I went a little more fish would be in each catching net. Still it wasn't enough for me so I kept pushing. Before I knew it, it the sun was clocking out. As the moon was clocking in. I grumbled to myself talking about how I caught a little amount of fish. Before the realization hit me. A storm is brewing, one that shakes the sky and the water bubbles with rage. Threatening to destroy anything and anyone. In its fit of rage. The water starts to rise. Hitting against my small fishing boat. Slowly, the sky was starting to sprinkle. Then before I knew it, the anger and wrath of Zeus was against me. Thunder and rain started to pour violently. Hearing the war cries of Zeus as thunder surrounded me. Hearing its pitter patter against the window and the surrounding area. Immediately, I tried to send a message to main land about my where about incase of me being swept away in the storm. That's when it dawned on me. The radio couldn't because the signal is too weak. Amiss my panic, I cursed myself for not filling the gas tank. In my split second decision I decided to try and make it to main land with little gas I have. As I was fighting through the waves it felt as if someone was playing see saw with my boat. Rocking me back and forth violently threatening to throw me off balance each time. Then, my radio crackled. A voice saying "m-orse c-ode" immediately, I kept my boat crusing forward through this terrible storm. Trying to multi-task as I maneuvered my boat through the crashes of the waves. Finding my morse code booklet. Before I could do anything the boat rocked forward so hard. That I hit my head against a steering wheel and went out cold. When I awoke, I panicked and checked to see if the storm was still brewing. After a hesitant minute, i looked out my window and saw the storm was gone. Because of this, I went out to inspect the damage that was done to my ship. Luckily, my hull held up pretty well with minimal damage. My deck took the brunt of the force. With pieces of wood scattered around, and nets and all sorts of equipment thrown around. After settling the urgent matters at hand. I quickly went fumbling around cockpit. Finding the morse code booklet, I had dropped previously. Deciding if I really needed it, if the storm was over. When I tried for the radio nothing but static came. Realizing I was really stuck with no one to talk to, stranded and alone. As I sat in silence thinking my next move. The radio promptly started to make sound. Taps, taps that resemble morse code, following the booklet. It went out 3 short taps. And then followed by 3 longer taps with a following of 3 shorts taps. The message is S.O.S. This had boosted my morale, thinking I wasn't the only one who had been swept up into that terrible storm. I had also sent an S.O.S out. Afterwards, nothing came back. I tried for the radio and said "is anyone there"?  Which I got promptly back with a morse code message. I tuned in and counted the taps. Recognizing  1 tap, 2 tap, 3 tap. S. 1 tap, 2 tap. I. 1 tap, 2 long tap, 3 tap, 4 tap. L. 1 tap, E. 1 Long tap, 2 tap. N 1 long tap. T S.I.L.E.N.T, my heart sank and my mind started to race with thoughts of paranoia. Terrified of what could become of me. If I'm not slient for a moment I thought to myself and maybe thought it was a prank someone was doing to me. The odd thing on my end is that after that message. Only silence was to be found even if I sent a message using morse code. At the end of the day only me and radio static was left. Soon after, the sun started to set with its golden hue reflecting off the waters. As I sat on my deck with the foldable chair I left in my private quarters. Sat down and grabbed a beer and just sat and broke down. Fearing I may never get home, tears streaming down my face. Then all of a sudden, I had an idea. Using the stars as my last resort. The compass of the past, immediately I try to find the big dipper to find north. The odd thing is that the Big Dipper was no where to be found. Immediately, my anxiety had rose, but instead I tried to find South. I look for the Southern Cross constellation or also known as the Crux. Strangely, I couldn't find it either so I tried to find the two brightest stars that are located in that area. But all other attempts where to be failed. Checking my rations for long time term survival was somewhat slim. I didn't have much supplies in terms to cook food or capture fish. As I already lost most of my fishing equipment to the storm. Having around a few days to feed myself with and about a week of water. Because of this, I decided to stop looking such a bleak outlook and just hope I'll soldier through it. Keeping that mentality up, I decided to start up my boat. Prepare to move but then I forgot. My boat ran out of gas. It was merely putting up sputters. Incredibly loud sputters, which unfortunately made my situation even worse. My boat started rock a little thinking the waves were starting to pick up. Before, I knew it a massive crash threw me forward. Throwing me to the floor, leaving me panicked and disoriented. Trying to pick myself up quickly. But kept falling because of the constant strong crashes to my boat. Being throw off balance to the point, I decided to wait it out. Even if I was panicked and worried. I remembered one word. Silent, from that point on. I waited and made almost no noise including keeping my breathing as quiet as possible. Then my radio crackled with sound and all it said is "hello, hello is anyone there". The person talked sounded a bit unnatural. Like if someone was forcing their selves to sound something they aren't. And as they kept talking the facade they kept up was fading slowly but surely. With each word getting deeper and each word harder to make intelligible. Eventually all communications seemed to cease and the constant crashing into my boat stopped. I just laid on the floor and rolled over to my side and slept. When I woke up, I realized how hopeless my situation really was. Keeping it optimistic was the last of my worries. Which led me to my last ditch effort. Sending out one more S.O.S message to those that sent me the silent message. Then, all I hear and see was a huge silhouette of a sea monster. Something bigger than a whale. Bigger than a warship. Enough to see it from an incredibly far distance.  The sound alone of it rising was enough for me cover my ears. Unfortunately the boat I was trying to contact was destroyed. With such force that bits of pieces of wood and metal started to rain down onto my ship. Hitting it with such force it began to leaves holes in my deck. The roof of my cockpit was hit with metal and wood alike and left a huge dent. Enough force to kill a man, and so I sat. For the last time, I was tired. I was tired trying to make it through this hell scape. During this time its been a few days. My food supply at the time was dwindling fast and almost nothing to last me. I decided to take the leap of faith as the giant creature silhouette began its descent into the dark abyss known as the sea. I grabbed a paddle and with little hope. For to change my fate just a little. To move forward to get as far as I can. I took fate into my hands slowly but surely. As I moved my boat with little to no avail. I accepted reality as it is. I'm stuck, no hope and if I'm too loud, I'll be killed. Then it happened, I heard its cry. It's loud cry from the sea. Forcing me to cover my ears and when it was finished. I couldn't hear. I couldn't hear if I wanted to, my ears were bleeding. This time, I had nothing left for me to lean on. I can't even hear the monster anymore. I only have my sight, touch, smell left. Quickly as time went by, I sat and dwelled on the idea of ending it quickly by the monster. But the though of kneeling over and to die by its hands. Was as if I admitted defeat to that monstrosity but with the hope of no survival. Then once again the radio sent me a message but I couldn't hear it. (Update: I was able to record the message and ill play it now) "Attention lost ships, we are willing to give rescue to those who honk their horns so we may know where you are located".  Suddenly, I feel these different vibrations and the sight that was to befall. Was the shilliout of the monster and dozens of ships surrounding that specific area. To just see dozens of people killed in just a second and once again silence, once again I'm left to just myself. As I starved and became dehydrated. The end of the nightmare was close. Knowing my death was close. But because of how weak I had became. I went unconscious. When I awoke, I screamed "come for me, do it! I'm waiting for it!". As I felt my hoarse and dry throat burn as I screamed. Eventually until I felt my voice go dry. I couldn't scream if I wanted to anymore. I was out of gas, and once again I was left alone. By myself, its as if the monster decided I wasn't enough for it anymore. As I lost my chance to die to be given mercy. Slowly, I felt the life of me drain out. By the seconds, I saw a man. Dressed in a nice suit. Or from what I could make out. With whatever little strength I had, he wrote these words "silence = home".I nodded yes with instinct. Then I went out cold. When I awoke, bright lights were in my eyes. I was being rushed somewhere. Went out cold again and awoke to them explaning I no longer had a functioning vocal cords nor did I have my hearing. I'm not sure who or what took me home. But I'm assuming I've made a deal with it. To be silent, to go home. Thus, I lived by the rule since to not make loud noises to the best of my abilities. To whatever took my vocal cords, and sent me home. I'm not sure if the deal was worth it. Since then, the sea, I can hear it calling for me. Its sings ever louder, everyday.

Nightmare Catcher

xu32hd

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xu32hd/nightmare_catcher/

Since I was ten years old, I've been tormented by nightmares. My parents would hear me moaning and sometimes screaming in my sleep almost every night. Every few nights the same dream would appear in my mind: I'm standing in front of a statue of an insanely beautiful woman and suddenly the statue starts decomposing like a dead human body, but it happens in seconds. About a year ago, when I was fourteen, my mother, a very superstitious person, decided to buy a dream catcher for me. It was a cheap souvenire with plastic beads and black feathers, and she placed it in my room, next to the window. For a few nights no screams nor moans had been heard from my room, and after this time the statue appeared again. This time it didn't decompose - it turned into a real woman with a body made out of stone, smiled at me and said "I will protect you from what comes next". Despite this ominous prophecy nothing else happened in this dream and I woke up happy. Both my parents praised the dream catcher and I was able to continue living, this time without fear. The statue lady would still appear in my dreams from time to time. She would warn me, give me strange advices and often try to ensure me that she was on my side. It was weird but way better than having non-stop nightmares. Then, one day the nightmares came back; I found myself surrounded by fire that was getting closer and closer. Suddenly, the statue lady came from the sky and took me out of there, saving my life. "I promised" she said, disappearing into mist. The alarm went off about a second later, informing me that it was a time to go to school. From this moment on, I'd have the strangest nightmares every night and the statue lady would always appear to save me from any horrors I was about to endure. With each next dream she would get more and more colours, slowly turning into a real human body instead of stone. Four days ago her change has been completed. She saved me from a psychotic murderer with a chainsaw and she asked me to call her "mother". I did that and she kissed my forehead. While she was leaning towards my head, I suddenly felt a rotten odour coming from her mouth. The person who leaned back was not my statue lady - it was her heavily decomposed corpse, the one I had been seeing in my older nightmares. "Noone will take your sanity from me" she said. "You are mine to torment forever". I woke up screaming and I saw a ghost or a somehow visible energy wave escaping my bed and flying to the window. It crushed the black dream catcher in half and got out, leaving me scared and crying. My mother's gift had been bringing nightmares upon me and my old nightmare had felt threatened, therefore it crushed the catcher. Now I am alone against the statue lady again and since that night I haven't fallen asleep. I feel as if I was slowly loosing my mind and I know that I'll eventually have to get some rest, hopefully before losing my mind. And when I fall asleep, the statue lady will put her rotten hands on me again.

The Cave

xudiph

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xudiph/the_cave/

Though I call it a cave, it isn’t much of one. It is more of a cavernous opening that stretches maybe ten feet back from the entrance and is very narrow inside. You may be wondering where I live. Well, my wife and I live in a very hilly part of rural Pennsylvania, and we own just barely three acres. Our house is on a main road and the backyard is only a downward slope into a forest like vegetation. Going east past the trees you will find a barbed wire fence almost immediately, which is the border to our neighbor’s property. Westbound however, is where our land stretches out for the few acres we have. If you go south-west, you will find this rocky formation, which houses the cave I mentioned. I think we noticed it the first week here while we scoured our new property, excited at it’s mysteriousness. I remember using my phone as a flashlight as we peered into the dark crevice, disappointed to see there wasn’t much there. Since then, we’ve often walked by the cave at the bottom of the giant rock that borders properties beyond ours. Sometimes when we were drunk, we would often try and scare each other in the darkness that surrounded us, and it was always my wife who wanted to turn around and head back first. I can’t deny I was always a little bit uneasy at times, but who wouldn’t be in a pitch-dark army of trees. The light of our house would always guide us back safely. It seemed like an endless darkness until we would turn around and see the lights behind us and remember we were just in our backyard. I loved these nights, and I would begin to venture out in the daytime by myself. The forest was completely different during the hours the sun was out. There was the same peacefulness, but a different kind of mystery. Today, I made my way through the dense tree line and started my usual decent down the hill westward. Upon first sight of the cave, I could see a light emanating from inside. At first, I thought it might have been the twilight reflecting off the rock, but the sun seemed to already be behind the tops of the trees. Out of blind curiosity I approached the entrance and sure enough, there was a flickering light coming from inside of the cave. I contemplated turning around and going back up the hill to the house, but I also wanted to see what the cause was. It looked like firelight, but I didn’t smell or see smoke. I was probably five feet away from the entrance now and I had the instinct to text my wife who was at work. It felt weird, but at the same time, I felt like I would want her to do the same. So, I pulled out my phone and quickly typed. “There’s light in the cave, looks like a fire. Hopefully nothing serious, maybe a squatter. Gonna take a look, I’ll let you know in a bit.” I put my phone in my pocket and started to creep forwards, not wanting to make a sound. I wasn’t armed but I wished I was. I knew there was someone in there and I was right. As I got close to the entrance, I heard a strained voice. ”Come in, please. I beg of you.” I froze. I hadn’t made a sound or shown myself. How did this person know I was there. Their voice sounded crackly and old. “This is my property! Whoever you are please come out and leave peacefully, I don’t care who you are or what your reason for being here is, but I can’t have you in there. I will call the authorities if I have to!” I could tell I sounded panicked but didn’t care. Then the voice answered back. “Oh honey, I told you to come in. Why are you being so rude? I can show you that this is a place of welcoming. A place of trust. Please, won’t you show yourself to me?” I was stunned, this person was crazy. I pulled out my phone and began dialing 911. “Oh, you don’t want to do that sweetheart, by the time anyone gets here, I’ll have never been here.” I stood stone cold, probably looked like a statue. How was this person in my mind? Why were they here and what did they want? *Fuck this* “You better get the fuck out of there before I drag you-“ Then she emerged, a woman seemingly bent in half, almost crawling on all fours but walking on her two bare feet. Clad in a robe or maybe a large coat. It was black and almost ripped to shreds but still somehow covered her. Slowly but surely, she was making her way towards me. I was still standing there paralyzed. I was nauseous but I couldn’t move. I saw the long grayish black strands of her hair dragging on the ground as she paced in slow motion, still in my direction. “I told you to come in. This is your fault.” She said this as she looked up. I saw here terrible face. She had black eyes, her skin hanging down so far off her face that it looked as if it was melting off. Blemishes all over and a few blackish bloody teeth that were jagged, the top row piercing her bottom gums as she smiled at me. I still couldn’t move, and she was now close enough to touch me when suddenly, there was a flash. A bright light like I had never witnessed. This lasted but a few seconds, and as I refocused there was no one there. I realized I had had my arm in front of my face and my phone was in my other hand still. There was an unnatural smell in the air. Much like the decaying carcass of an animal, but still, different. I heaved, then turned and sprinted back uphill to the house. My wife was pulling into the driveway. She got out of the car obviously hysterical and almost tripped while running towards me. She was sobbing and told me she rushed home after I didn’t reply to her when I first texted her an hour ago. *Was I really out there for an hour?* I embraced her and made sure we quickly made it to the door and inside. I informed her of everything I had seen, and she burst into tears. I asked her what was wrong, assured her I’m here and safe. She didn’t reply at first, but then looked me in the eyes. Tears were still forming and her lips were quivering. I could tell she had something to say, but she couldn’t quite make the words out. When she finally spoke, the words made me feel cold. I didn’t know why she said them. I didn’t know what they meant. All I knew, was she meant what she said. It was only three words. “You are Cursed.”

You’ve got a new match

xthf21

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xthf21/youve_got_a_new_match/

You’ve got a new match My hormonal teenage self couldn’t have been more excited. I quickly lost interest in the homework I had been working on that night and opened my phone, almost as fast as it could light up with the notification. I clicked on the icon, staring intently until Tinder opened. Of course, I was excited. I ran all the possibilities in my head, all the things that could happen. This could be the girl of my dreams No, it didn’t appear as though I matched with the girl of my dreams. This looked more like the girl from a nightmare that would shake the vilest creature in the deepest pit of hell to its crooked bones. Smiling from ear to ear, literally, was my “match” in the first picture of her profile. No name, no age, only a picture. The photo itself seemed to be professionally taken. It was a full-body picture. She was dressed in some sort of very formal black dress and there was nothing about her body that seemed out of the ordinary. She had black hair that was down, and presented nicely, likely for this picture or whatever event this picture was taken for but I didn’t give much thought to that and you’ll understand why. Her skin was well kept and seemingly unblemished, come to think of it now, her face was the only off-putting thing about the picture. But oh God, the face. Her eyes didn't sit inside where the sockets should be, they bulged out, seeming far too large for her face. They had no whites, the irises were everything. They were a dark purple, almost black. The eyes had no details, they were just blank, empty. Her teeth were normal, human teeth and there would have been nothing wrong with them if she didn’t have many, many more than any person should have. Her jaw opened wide, very wide. It opened from the bottom of one ear to the other, teeth showing in their entirety as she gave a nice, big smile at the camera. I was disgusted by whatever photoshop job this must have been, but I was also intrigued. It was a really good edit after all. I thought it must have been some artist who wanted to show off their skills or something. But, before I engaged in any chats with this match, I noticed they had more photos. Five more. I swiped to the second one. The same girl, in the same dress and all the same grotesque facial features, was front and center in this photo once again but both the quality and setting of this one were much different. It looked like it was taken with a cellphone, the picture wasn’t even level but that’s not the detail I first recognized. She was levitating off the ground. The ground, as well as the walls and the ceiling, were seemingly made of corpses. All that provided light in the photo were half-melted candles on the ground and the flash from the camera. This one looked too real. The bodies all had pretty distinct features, it almost made me sick. Some looked like they were mere skeletons with everything decomposed, others looked fresh. Very fresh. One thing that many of them seemed to have in common was they were missing a lower jaw, an odd detail. I scrolled past this one quicker than the last, it upset me the more I looked at it but the third was more confusing. The third picture was of her, once again, and in her black dress as she hovered in the middle of an empty field this time. The quality of this picture was like that of the first, it seemed as if it were professionally taken and edited. The sky was an impossible shade of red, as a consequence, the entire image had a sort of red tint to it. Other than that, it simply looked as if it were some sort of farmland. This one didn't disturb me like the last but it had an eerie feel to it. It was as if this picture was taken in the apocalypse and like it was showing me the end of the world. Once again, I thought this must be some sort of artist trying to compel these sorts of feelings with the pictures in the way they took and edited them. I was impressed as I was disturbed. The fourth photo made my heart sink a little. This picture of the girl was taken in front of a building on my university campus, a building not even a five-minute walk away. It was nighttime and she was alone. She was, once again, floating yet this time above the stairs, in front of the columns of the building. She didn’t look any less real in this photo. I scrolled back through the first few and noticed how surprisingly alike she looked in all the pictures, despite their different angles. This “art” was too good, it was making me sick. The fifth picture, I thought, must be impossible. It was of her inside another building, but I knew what building it was. I knew it from the colors on the wall. I knew it from the lights above her floating body. Most of all, I knew where she was because of the numbers on the door behind her. It was only a few doors down from my apartment, the apartment I was in right now. I quickly scrolled to the last photo. It was a close-up of her right in front of my door. I dropped my phone and ran to my door to make sure it was locked. Luckily it was, I am always good about that. But, out of curiosity, I thought I would peek through the peephole to see if someone did happen to be there. I placed my eye upon the hole where I got a glimpse of shoulders and the back of a head with long black hair. In a quick motion, the head turned around while the shoulders remained still. It was her. She widened her smile, ear to ear once again. I jumped back from the door. I ran back to the desk and picked up my phone. Of course, the disgusting picture of her in front of my door was the first thing to pop up as I opened my phone. I quickly exited Tinder and dialed 911. An operator picked up. “9-1-1 what is your emergency?” I knew that location was the first thing you should give out in a 9-1-1 call because if something happens to you while you’re on the line, they only have the possibility of helping you if they know where you are. I gave the operator my location, which I am leaving out of this story to not expose myself, and then have a brief, detail-scarce summary of the past few minutes. I left out some of the more extreme details because I wanted to be taken seriously. “There's someone outside my apartment door. I just got a match on tinder, when I clicked in to see the photos she had a bunch of weird ones of her in…look, it doesn’t matter but she is messed up. Very messed up. The last two photos were of her outside my apartment door and when I went to look in the peephole, she was still there. I don’t know how but please send help” “Alright sir, has she threatened you in any way? Has she tried to break into your apartment? We can’t just send an officer because you feel scared of some girl you met on tinder who happens to live in the same apartment building as you. Are you calling because she looks…different?” I was speechless. I was infuriated. How could they do this? Did they think it was ridiculous I was calling them because of a girl? I exploded into a rant over the phone. “So what if she hasn't done anything yet? What the hell is wrong with you?! She found my apartment, my exact apartment, and is standing outside of it. We only matched minutes ago. This isn’t right, I need-” There was suddenly silence on the other end. I felt like I was about to scream. 911 just hung up on me. I was eyeing up my door for a second when I heard someone on the phone once again. It was someone different. He talked once again, this time my phone was up to my ear. “Sir, can you hear me? Hello sir?” “Yes! I’m here” I replied desperately. “Sir, who you were just talking to was not 9-1-1 dispatch, I need you to listen to my next instructions very carefully. If you hear another voice other than mine on this call, you need to hang up immediately and wait for me to call back. If the entity you have encountered attempts to communicate with you in any way, for the time being, you need to ignore it. Do not leave your apartment unless I instruct you to. Now, I need your precise location. We caught onto this one early on so we should be able to contain it with ease” I was hesitant to even talk. “Are…Are you the police?” “No, I work for an agency whose purpose is to locate and contain or eliminate entities like the one you have had the unfortunate luck of encountering tonight. I need your location now” Maybe I was stupid for giving this man on the phone my location but with everything that had just hit me, I didn’t hesitate. I give him my address and apartment number. He was silent for only about fifteen seconds. “Alright, a team is en route to your apartment, sit tight. Now we need to lay out a few more rules. I have the floor plans for your apartment. It looks like you’ve got a studio with one closet and one bathroom. Can you fit inside your closet?” “Uh yeah, but why would I need-” “If the lock on your apartment door unlocks, I need you to quickly shut off the lights and climb into your closet. Be silent until you hear the door shut once again. If any sinks or your shower turns on, I need you to shut them off as quickly as possible. If you hear splashing coming from your toilet, I need you to flush it immediately and close the lid. I need you to repeat these instructions back to me so that I know you understand” “Ok, if I hear my door unlock, quickly shut off my lights and hide in the closet. Turn off any sinks or my shower if they turn themselves on and flush the toilet and close the lid if I hear anything from it. I don't understand how these things can happen or why I would do any of this. “If you want to live long enough to see the sunrise tomorrow, you’ll follow those instructions exactly. Write them down if you need to. I am going to need any details and evidence you have that you haven’t said over the phone already, yes, I could still hear what you were saying at the beginning of the call. You said you matched with ‘her’ on tinder? Does ‘she’ have a name?” “Yes, I matched with her on tinder but her profile didn’t have a name or age, just pictures that-” Once again, I was interrupted by the new operator. It seemed he was urgent to exchange as much information as possible. Witnessing what I had, I didn’t object. “I need you to screenshot those pictures if you can. Is it still possible for you to access them? “Yes, give me one moment” I opened tinder up again and clicked on the profile. I quickly screenshotted each picture. “Now what? What do you want me to do with them?” “Text them to the 9-1-1 number, trust me, it’ll work” I sent each picture as fast as I possibly could. “Alright, looks like I’ve got seven. Give me a moment while I send these over to our intel team for identification, we might be able to find out enough about this thing to get rid of it right away. I need you to keep an eye out your window on the street. There will be-” “Wait, wait. Did you say seven? I sent six. Her profile had six pictures. How did you get seven” I quickly opened back up my texts. I did send seven. The first six were of her profile but the seventh was of me. It was taken from outside my window, right outside. And it was recent. I recognized the clothes I was wearing today. On the upper left-hand side of the picture, was a hand pressed against my window. I quickly turned towards my window to see no one there, there couldn’t have been. It was on the third floor and there was nothing on that side of the building that would allow someone to climb that high. No one could have been up there to take a picture. I was quick to let the operator know, though I was not calm. “I didn’t send the last one, it sent by itself through my phone somehow. It’s of me, just a minute ago, while we were talking” “Alright, alright calm down. It’s trying to scare you. It wants to get in your head. It wants you worked up so that you’ll do something rash, but you’re not going to do that, are you?” “N-no sir” “Alright good, now as I was saying, there will be one man and one woman in black suits and holding briefcases that get out of a large SUV. The driver has been instructed to drop them off on the side of your apartment, he knows where it is. They should be arriving…right…about…now. Go check outside your window” I looked outside my window, down to the street below but I didn’t see an SUV or two people in suits. All I saw were a few pedestrians and a university bus. “I don’t see anyone down there. Are you sure they’re on that side? It’s easy to end up on the wrong street down here” “Yes, I am sure. You’re certain you don’t see anyone? No SUV?” “I’m…sorry but no, I don’t” “Fuck” I heard him mutter under his breath. I then faintly heard his voice yelling toward someone else “That ain’t it, tell them to keep moving” He then adjusted his mic and began talking to me again, “Alright, they’ve been swindled by the entity. We’re figuring that out now. Just be on the lookout for them to arrive. Once they get there, we can start the process of getting rid of this thing” Right then I heard a firm knock at my door. I walked over and peeped through the hole again. One man and one woman, both in very nice, black suits. “I think your agents are here. They just knocked on the door and I saw them through the peephole, should I let them in?” The operator practically screamed through the phone “No! No, do not let them in. Those are not our agents, that is the entity trying to get you to open the door, don’t fucking do it. Our agents will not knock, they won't try to get into your door. Get back to your window and watch for them to arrive. Tell me when they do” After a few more minutes of waiting, I finally saw a large SUV pull up in front of the apartment and two people get out. One man, one woman, nice suits and briefcases. After they got out of the car, they looked up at my window as they made their way towards the entrance. The SUV drove off. “Alright, they’re here” “Good. They’re going to scout out the building, figure out what we’re dealing with, and assess if another team needs to be called in. I’ll let you know anything you need to do when I find out. Just stay on the line” I had started to feel relieved, albeit more confused. I did believe these people were here to help but I didn’t know what they could do to help me. How could two people from whatever this organization was possibly deal with this…thing at my door. I contemplated the possibilities as I sat down in my chair for the first time in a while, finally calming down a little. This little moment of peace was just that, for not long after I sat down I heard an electronic click from my door as I jumped from my seat. I remembered the operator’s instructions. I quickly hit the light switch and picked up the kitchen knife before hopping into my closet. “The door just unlocked, I’m hiding with the lights off as you told me” I whispered into my phone. He responded quietly and with as fast a message as he could muster “Just be quiet and don’t move. She can’t open your closet door and she has no interest in taking your things. No matter what she says, do not respond and do not react. Do not leave the closet until you hear the door close again. Do not hang up this call” As soon as he finished speaking the door opened. I didn’t hear any footsteps but I knew she was in. I focused on controlling my breathing to make it as quiet as possible. I must have been in there for a good five minutes before I heard any noise. Nothing. Not a step, not a door opening, not a single thing moved around. I couldn’t even hear breathing. I was tempted to leave but I did as I was told and stayed still. Doing that had served me well up until this point. I just about gasped and gave myself away when she eventually spoke, in a sweet and dulcet voice. “What’s wrong, don't wanna hang out tonight?” After she got no response, she would wait about ten seconds and say something new, trying to be more provocative each time. This went on for a few minutes. “Come on, we matched and you know it. You know you want me and I…I want you… Well, if you're not ready yet, that’s alright. I can wait. I can wait a long time. I’ll wait for however long I need to for you to come out… You know I don’t bite, I’m just a very, very good kisser. You can ask the others. You can meet them too. But why don’t you try it yourself, just come on out… What have you got to lose? I know how lonely you are. I know I’m the only one you’ll ever have a chance with, at least I’m the only one who will love you forever… You know you’ll always be nothing without me. I’m the only one, the only thing that will ever bring meaning to your life” She got more assertive. I could hear her voice getting closer each time she spoke, trying to get me to come out. Eventually, she was so close to the closet door, she was practically touching it. She might have been. It was obvious she knew I was in there but the operator said to sit put and that she couldn't open the door, I trusted him for now. “You know you you’re a worthless, rotting sack of shit. You’re not even good enough for the maggots. You have done nothing with your meaningless, short life and you never will, even if I let you live past this night. You can come with me or you can burn. No one is coming to save you. No one can-” She stopped for a moment. I think she heard what I heard., there were steps in the hallway. Someone was walking around on my floor. “Oh, you talked to them” She let out a giggle, one that would have seemed innocent and cute if it were given in any other context with a normal girl but I found it to be far from it. “You fucking bitch, you’ll pay for that. You won’t even get what I gave the others. I’ll rip your guts out right before your eyes and make you watch all of it, you’ll wish you were dead but I won’t kill you, not until-” “Approaching entity manifestation now, stand by” I heard a man’s voice say from just outside my apartment. She screamed in fury before I heard my apartment door slam shut a split second later with a force I don’t think I could replicate with all my might if I tried. I exited my closet and turned my light back on as I ran to the door to look in the peephole. I couldn’t see anything. “What just happened? I think I heard one of your people outside of my door before she charged out, really angry” I asked the operator, who I had hoped was still on the line. “One of them tried to catch her right there, but it didn’t work. It wasn’t fully manifested. He, as well as his partner, are trying to locate the entity now but we’re having no success. A larger team is very close. No need to look out for this one, we know how to get there now. Our priority has changed from containment to extermination. This one is much more dangerous than we could have predicted” “What am I supposed to do now?” The voice on the line immediately changed from the man’s voice to the girl’s enraged voice. “You should open the fucking door and let me in” I immediately hung up as I was told. This may have saved me for the moment, as in the process of hanging up, I noticed my phone was at two percent battery. I quickly found a charger and plugged my phone in. A minute later, I got a call back from 911. I promptly answered. “Are you still there? Did it try to use someone else’s voice?” “It used its own to tell me to open the door” I heard shuffling from outside my room. I first thought that she was back but I noticed it was a lot of people this time. I could hear faint dialogue from outside the room and it sounded like they were assembling a piece of furniture. “Do you know who is outside my room right now?” I asked the operator. “Our second team arrived a few minutes ago. Some of them are downstairs setting up a base for this operation, others are up by your room preparing equipment. Just let them do their thing and this will be over real soon, as long as we’re fighting what we think we’re fighting, dear God, I hope so” “What about my neighbors? What about the people walking around in the hallways and everyone else in this building? Do they know about this? Are they in danger? What happens to them?” “Oh, I forgot to tell you. They're just…not here. I don’t know how to explain it to you in a way you would understand. They won’t be seeing our team, you, or this entity for the time being and we won’t be seeing the. They certainly aren’t in any danger if that brings any comfort, but I’m afraid you still are” I was once again confused by this new piece of information, but I didn’t have the energy to question it at this point. I just wanted this to be done and over with as soon as possible. “It’s here” I heard a woman assert from right outside my door. I heard a few different things turn on. I don’t know what they were but I take it they were some sort of machinery or equipment they had just finished setting up. A few moments of silence passed before I heard a man mutter “Oh shit” Seconds later I heard light bulbs explode before gunfire erupted in the hallway outside my room. I sprawled out on the floor and got as flat as possible, though no gunfire ever made its way into my room. These gunshots were quickly followed by an even louder scream from what I assumed to be the girl. The shooting went on for only a minute or two, after which I heard a few magazines drop to the floor and some rifles being racked as well as some louder dialogue and cursing. I started to put on my shoes, hoping this was over now but besides that, I felt safer with shoes on anyway. “Did they get it?” I hopefully asked the operator. “No, it plowed right through our guys and got away somewhere in the stairwell. She killed a couple of them and injured a couple more as well. We underestimated her again, but now we know what we have to do. We're almost through with this, just keep a level head and you’ll be alright” I sat down, silenced. Two people just died on my behalf. Two people died because I, being the stupid teenager I am, had to be on Tinder, messing around. I checked my phone, it hadn’t gotten much more of a charge by this time. It was only at seven percent. I waited there for another five minutes. I just sat in guilt, with my head resting in my hands, thinking of how all this could have been avoided before I heard something coming from my bathroom. I picked up my phone, unplugged it, and walked over, pushing the door open to get a peak. Hands were coming out of the toilet bowl and gripping the seat. She pushed down against the seat of the toilet as she attempted to force herself up, out of my toilet. I screamed and fell back against the wall. Her head made it out, she was wounded, blood covering her face and arms. I could see that one of her eyes had been shot out and blood still ran from the socket. She turned towards me as she attempted to pull the rest of herself up. She clenched her jaw but revealed all of her teeth to me, also covered in blood. “Oh my god, she’s climbing out of my toilet” “It’s too late. Go, run, now. Do you understand? Get out of your apartment” I unlocked my door as I charged out. All of the lights were out, they had all been shattered. The hallway looked like a trench from a war. Blood lined the floor and was splattered along the walls and ceiling. There was broken equipment, equipment that was alien to me all up and down the hallway which I narrowly missed while running away from my room. I could feel the spent brass underneath my feet. The worst sight was the bodies, two men in body armor, with rifles strapped around them, lay lifelessly on the ground, one was flipped over and had a trail of blood behind him as if he was thrown. The other had his upper body propped up against a wall. His lower jaw had been ripped out as blood came from his mouth and throat and colored his black uniform red. I dearly wish I was watching the ground in front of me as I ran because I took not two steps ahead and stepped right on this man’s jaw. I can’t even begin to tell you how I felt, feeling that beneath my foot as I ran. I could feel his teeth. “Where do I go? What do I do now?” I frantically asked the operator. “Get to the stairwell, go down. I know you’re used to there only being a few flights of stairs because the first floor is where they ended. You’ll notice they go down further this time, I need you to proceed until you reach the bottom. There, you’ll find where our team set up their base of operations” I ran down the stairs faster than I think I’d ever run down a flight of stairs before. I didn’t feel like I was going to trip or like my legs were getting too tired. Rather, I felt as though my legs were outpacing me. It must have been a good ten floors worth of stairs before I reached the bottom, but I got there quickly with the energy I had. At the bottom of the stairs were tons and tons of boxes. They looked as if they were military-grade or just made to carry really expensive things. A number of them were open and their contents were emptied, I guessed this is where all of their fancy equipment came from that they were trying to use upstairs. On a few of them were laptops. As I walked over to one, I was startled by what I walked past. Between a couple of rows of these boxes, I found another corpse. This one I recognized as being one of the two in suits who had come in earlier, it was the woman. She, like the one man and, I assume the other from my floor, had her jaw ripped out as well. In her hand was a revolver, a very shiny, and quite beefy looking .357 magnum. I set my phone on a box for a moment as I checked it out. I opened the cylinder and found that none of the six primers had been struck. This poor woman couldn’t even get a shot off before being ripped apart. “I found another one of your team members dead. It's the woman who came in first with the man earlier” I notified the operator. “What? That’s not possible, we just had communication with her. She was supposed to stay there while the rest of the team...oh no” “What?” “The rest of the team had another engagement with the entity on a higher floor. Their last known contact with it was four minutes ago. Our last communication with the agent you’re next to was less than a minute ago. The thing is in there with you somewhere” Just then, the lights in the stairwell from top to bottom all exploded in rapid succession. I jumped into a corner and aimed the revolver at the stairs. A moment passed before I began to see a red light illuminate the stairs above me. Despite being shattered, the lights began working once again. One by one, they turned on as they had been shattered. I heard humming from many floors above but I could hear it getting closer. “She’s coming, what the hell do I do now?” “Get on one of the computers down there. We’ve cracked its code. I’m sending you a sound file. Turn up the volume on the laptop. When it gets close, play the audio file, once it-” My phone was dead, and I thought I was too. Fortunately, I kept a level head as the operator told me to. I kept myself as calm as possible as the humming got closer and made its way down the stairs. I ignored it, set the revolver down next to the laptop, and looked through what I could. It was in some sort of weird operating system and I had no idea how it worked. I found some sort of messaging system, like an email, though I don’t think it was quite that, and found a recent message. This had to be it. I downloaded and opened the contents, turning up the laptop volume to max. The humming stopped as I heard a giggle from right behind me and a playful voice say “What do you think you’re doing? I already told you what was going to happen to you. Are you ready for a kiss now?” I stood up, taking a deep breath and slowly turning around, with one hand still on the box in front of me. “Well, you better come give it to me” I somehow was able to deliver with a straight face, despite being more afraid than I ever have in my life, which I assumed was about to end. She approached slowly, opening up her smile from ear to ear once again. Slimy, viscous saliva gushed out of her mouth as she came closer. I hit the space bar on the laptop before throwing myself to the ground, away from her. An annoying, constant high-frequency noise filled the stairwell and hurt my ears, but it did much worse for her. Her feet touched the ground, no longer levitating. She covered her ears tightly and her massive jaw practically unhinged from her head as she screamed in agony. I reached up for the revolver next to the laptop. I pulled it in close before cocking it, then I got two hands on it and pointed it forward. I was shaking from the adrenaline but I managed to get my breathing under control for just long enough to level the rear sights with the front. I squeezed. Blood spattered on the stairs behind her as part of her head was blown clean off. I stood and backed up, pulling the trigger as many times as I could. Even when the cylinder was empty, I pulled the trigger a few more times. Once my ears stopped ringing an application opened on the laptop. The sound file finished playing and I heard the voice of the operator once again. “Anomalous presence no longer detected. You did it, kid, I have no idea how, but you did it. It’s over” I stood for a moment and observed the carnage. The red lights faded until they were gone, in darkness once again. I was in disbelief, both of what just went down and that I was able to stop this thing, whatever it was. I don’t think I’ll ever know. I began to walk up the stairs, slow and tired. After I made it up a few flights I saw bright beams coming from flashlights above. A couple of dozen people in body armor, strapped with expensive rifles and submachine guns ran down the stairs past me. The man in the suit reached down and grabbed the revolver in my hand as I was passing him. I think, subconsciously, I jerked it away and aimed it at him. He backed up for a moment. “Easy now, son. It’s all over. You can relax” I took a deep breath out and handed over the empty revolver to him. I walked back up to my room, plugged my phone in, and started it up. I just sat with my head resting on my desk for a while before I got another call from 911. I picked it up and the operator began to speak once again “Well, you did it. We’ve been hunting this one for a while now. It’s gotten more victims than almost all of the others combined but now, it’s gone, thanks to you. Are you injured? I can get the paramedics to you if you need them” I just sat in silence, I didn’t have the energy to speak anymore. “Alright, you might need a minute to decompress and catch your breath it seems. Stay in your room for the next hour and everything will be back to the normal outside of your apartment. Our team, all of the equipment, and the chaos left in the wake of all this will be out of sight and out of mind. I know it doesn’t make any sense to you and that will only make processing all of this harder. Just know that if you call your emergency line again, we’ll be listening, we’ll be here to help. Oh, and one more thing. You would be doing not just us, but the whole world and yourself a favor if you never spoke about this as if it happened. Our anonymity and secrecy let us help everyone else out there. I hope you understand. Goodbye now. Stay safe” If you’ve read this far, you know I’ve ignored the last thing the operator said to me. I want everyone out there to know. I want everyone to know that you could become the victim of one of these things in the blink of an eye. I want you to know that there are people out there hunting them down and they seem to not exist by any publicly displayed government information. I want people to know what to do when they call 911. I have no proof, my apartment building did return to normal. I am suddenly missing the text history I had with 911. I am not matched with that profile on Tinder. I have nothing. I also want to know more. Have any of you fallen victim to one of these things? Have any of you heard of them? What are they? Do you know more about this organization? How was my apartment building changed that night? How was reality bent and shaped back to normal? Please reach out, I need to know more. I was just about to hit the post button when my phone suddenly blew up. You’ve got a new match You’ve got a new match You’ve got a new match You’ve got a new math My phone displayed it a hundred times over. They’re coming for me now. I need to make a call.

Gone South

xu3y5i

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xu3y5i/gone_south/

*Hi. I haven't been able to stop myself from sharing this. I feel obligated. I work for a secret branch of the government bent on inventing and using time travel. Our first prototype worked, sending our men 10 years into the future. After they made it back, the prototype immediately exploded, killing everyone involved with the expedition. Of everything they brought back, the only thing we managed to salvage was an old composition book. Below is what it contained. I'll surely be silenced for sharing this, but I need to get this off my chest. We all deserve to know our future, no matter how grim.* God... I just want this to end. I don't know how whoever is reading this is still alive. Perhaps humanity somehow managed to survive and rebuilt. Doubtful. Perhaps you're an alien investigating the remains of a dead species. If it brings you any comfort, this isn't an example of the Fermi paradox... this is something else entirely. I'm actually kind of proud that we managed to die out before ending ourselves. Anyways... It started 5 years ago. Ha. To think that just 5 short years ago I was living a normal life! My husband, Steve, our beautiful daughter, Avery... it feels like a fantasy, a heaven compared to the sad excuse for a life I lead now. The first thing to happen was the bells. It didn't matter where you were, everyone could hear them. The constant ringing of a bell. It was like everyone on the planet was living next to a church. Countless investigations were launched into this phenomena, but no one found anything, and it chalked up to some sort of incredible mass hysteria. Then after around a week, the ringing stopped. At first, we all thought it was over. At the time it seemed like some crazy isolated incident. But now I'm starting to think that it was a warning. Perhaps a warning from God. Then came the rain. It was like a global hurricane, except there wasn't much wind. Just a relentless downpour all over the world. The coasts sunk. Florida, Venice, you name it! All gone. But that wasn't the worst part... the rain wasn't water, it was blood. So much blood. From then on, every drop of water was tainted with blood. This was when people realized that the bells were the start of something terrible, and that there would almost certainly be more to come. Avery was only 3, she didn't understand what was happening. We kept her inside, even as blood stained the windows. I envied her ignorance. I slipped into a sort of depression and started drowning myself in social media like Reddit. Steve stopped talking to me. It had only been a month since this started, and it felt like we weren't living... just surviving. I was a fool. Looking back, it wasn't all that bad. I still had a house, I still had a family. I should've just ignored it and kept on living. But I didn't. The rain stopped, but the bodies started. Bodies... from the sky. No one knew exactly where they came from, but they supposedly just "appeared" somewhere in stratosphere. Some of the bodies were human. Every single human body that was DNA'd matched with a long-dead person. The other dead bodies? I can't talk about them without getting sick. They were less common than the human ones, but I still saw some in our yard, as well as pictures online. They were beasts. Disgusting, terrible, beasts. Similarly to the humans, they were cut open, but all the blood had already fallen out. It was then that people finally realized where all the blood rain came from... For a while, things were actually kind of... ok? Millions of people died during the blood rain, but besides that, everyone was more or less fine. People cleaned up the bodies, worked jobs, and went to school. Things were orderly enough, and the world went on. It seemed like things were getting better, and after a few months, the bodies stopped. For a while it seemed like it was over. Just an insane happening that people would dismiss as myth in a couple thousand years. But then the Titan fell. It was the last of the bodies, some massive being the size of Texas. No one knows what it looks like, as anyone who looks at it or a picture of it immediately dies of a brain aneurysm. It landed in Germany, crushing the entirety of the country and killing everyone there. People theorized and debated over whatever the hell was happening, but it hardly mattered. Something terrible was happening. That was all we could really know. Y'know, before all of this, I was an atheist. But now I've managed to convince myself that the Titan was God himself. God is real. God is dead. 3 years passed, and the world slowly went to shit. Every animal in China simultaneously went rabid. The global temperature increased 10 degrees. Healthy crops wilted for no reason. The ground would randomly open up and swallow people in New Zealand. Entire cities would commit suicide at the same time. Some of the beasts that had fallen somehow came back to life. They were more interested in killing eachother than killing humans, but millions of people died after being caught in the crossfire. Australia fucking vanished. Just gone. No explanation. Worms, parasites, and all kinds of insects that I am 100% sure did not exist before this started crawled along the streets. The sky turned red. The Earth slowly stopped spinning. At the time of writing this, we have more than 17 years until tomorrow morning. Hackers broadcasted images of the Titan all over the world. Stars began to blink out. Once the war that the beasts had been fighting ended, they turned their attention towards humanity. The Military started drafting. They took Steve. He died in battle a week later. God.. Avery was still oblivious to it all. Still happy... I went outside yesterday. I could hear gunshots in the distance. They were getting closer. I looked in the other direction. Smoke and fire rose from leveled buildings in the city. Luckily, I live in the suburbs. A massive canyon opened out of nowhere, consuming the entire city. Welp. I had, at best, 2 more days left. When I went back inside, Avery was crying. She had undone the shades and looked out the window. "Mommy, I'm scared! When will Daddy come back?" Avery had finally broken. The last bastion of normalcy had fallen. "Don't worry honey, Mommy will keep you safe." As I write this, Avery is asleep in my lap. The gunshots are right across the street now, and they are accompanied by human screaming, and monstrous, indescribable sounds. It's almost relaxing, knowing that soon also this torture will be over. The TV turned on. Must have fritzed out. Started playing some old news. Normal, mundane stuff. I can't believe that a single murder or politics was all people had to be scared of back then. Wow. Things really went South.

Blind Men and Guns

xu7qko

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xu7qko/blind_men_and_guns/

Momma held me by the wrist and dragged me up the path to the house. She’s so much bigger than me that I was practically tripping over myself trying to keep up, kicking up little red dust clouds in our wake. She was breathing just a little quicker than normal and the pail she carried in her other hand thumped against her hip. As we got closer to the house we kept passing all kinds of stuff, but Momma wouldn’t let me stop. She said there’d be time later. We had to walk past jackrabbits playing in a thicket, a pen full of goats, we didn’t even stop for a drink from the spigot sticking up out of the ground. The rusty one with chipped up orange paint. We kept walking around the bend and the house came into view. Everyone says it was real pretty once, but now it just looks big. The pillars don’t do enough to hold up the roof, so you can notice it sagging if you’re sitting on the porch. Dirt is all stuck up on the walls on account of the wind, but I’m pretty it’s supposed to be white on the outside. The wood is spongy and the shutters don’t close right. It has one of them wraparound porches and two big staircases that kind of bump into each other and become one. Momma says there are pictures of her on those steps back when everything was still pretty and they threw a fancy party for her. She even says there’s pictures of Daddy at that party. One day she’ll have to find those pictures for me. We all agree the house has good bones though. Momma practically started running to the front door and it felt like I was flying through the air behind her. She yelled “Uncle Jack!” and people started pouring out from the house like ants. Momma started hugging on everyone and being sorry that we were late while I dug a hole in the dirt with my shoe. Something bumped into my shoulder real hard and I lost my balance a little. It was my cousin John. He was the only kid my age in the family, but he was still bigger and older. “We were playing football this morning.” He said. “I tackled Bill so hard he couldn’t breathe for five whole minutes.” “Is he okay?” I asked. “Course he is! I wouldn’t be bragging to no one if he was actually hurt.” He smiled real big and said “You and me should play more later since you didn’t get tackled this morning” before running off with some of the bigger kids. Momma really likes Uncle Jack and made me come say hi. Says he’s always there when something bad happens. Like when her parents died when she was little or when daddy didn’t come back from the army. I try to be nice, but Uncle Jack scares me. “Hi Uncle Jack.” I said as Momma nudged me forward. “Hey there little buddy.” Uncle Jack says as he squats down and reaches out to grab my shoulders. He feels his way up my neck, touches my face, and tousles the top of my head. “Would you look at that! I won’t be able to call you my little buddy much longer huh?” His white beard split open, showing off a yellowed and toothy grin. I looked down at my shoes and felt Momma squeeze my hand hard. I jumped and looked up at Uncle Jack. His eyes were all milky and swimming in a pool of leathery skin. “I nearly grown a foot this year.” I mumbled. “I can tell, kiddo.” He scooped me up and Momma followed us into the house. I wanted to go look at the goats now, but on account of how we were late there wasn’t any time. Momma said there would be time later though. We had to go around saying hello to everyone again once we got in the house, then Uncle Jack got us set up in a room. It was dusty and the walls were peeling. After Uncle Jack left Momma made us shake out the sheets on the bed and look all over for bugs before we could unpack. As we were doing that people started buzzing and banging around downstairs louder than before. The women had to go get dinner ready and all the men had to get the house ready for tonight. People were up on ladders and patching the roof, out in the pasture putting the animals away early, and testing the lamps. John and I were boarding up all the windows on the first floor, but I didn’t get to do nothing but hold the nails. John was standing on his tiptoes, holding a plank of wood to the window with one hand, hammering with the other and holding a couple nails in his teeth. “You know why we all here, right?” “Cause it’s the full moon in September.” I said. “No that’s the when, I asked if you knew why we come here every time there’s a full moon in September.” “I dunno, to see family?” I guessed, barely paying any attention. “No. It’s cause if we didn’t, you’d die.” I whipped around to stare at the back of his head. “Huh?” I said. John kept nailing up the board with dull thuds. “John, what do you mean?” I said, walking up behind him. He picked up another board and I handed him another nail. He started to hammer it in place. “It’s like this,” he said as he continued to work. “It takes a lot of water for all of us to live here. And we gotta take care of the animals, grow our food, and wash our clothes too. This wouldn’t be any problem, but we ain’t the only ones here. We use a lot, and there isn’t enough to go around.” “I know there’s people all over, but I haven’t heard the Tillermen or anyone else say they don’t got enough.” I had moved around to look at him in the side of his face and could see the devil in his eye. “That’s not what I mean.” His voice was low and gravelly now, like the nails were in his throat instead of between his teeth. “I mean there’s something out here other than all of us. Something that ain’t human.” “There are things that live out there in the grass and under the ground. They call them the Yucca Men. They’ve been here for a long time, a lot longer than us. They never liked to come out much, so it took a long time for anyone to even notice. But at first, they were nice. You’d get turned around out in the woods and a voice would help you get home. Maybe you lost your hammer while you were out somewhere, and it’d show up on your front porch without any explanation. Some folks say they’d even bring you gifts. But they’re a real thirsty bunch and they’ve gotta drink a lot of water. Like I said there ain’t much out here and they started to dry out. At first, they just stopped being helpful. Some people thought they left all together. But they were just getting thirsty. Then they got a little more desperate and things got a whole lot worse. Folks started to notice little animals showing up dead. A rabbit with all the juices sucked out of it or a squirrel that looked like it was nothing but fur stuck to a skeleton. They were getting so thirsty that they had to start drinking blood. More people kept coming and they got thirstier still. It started happening to bigger animals and livestock. But now they weren’t just thirsty for animal blood, they’d take anything. And people are full of an awful lot of blood. There’s so little water left for them they hibernate all year and soak up what they can from the soil. But it’s not enough. We use the most water getting ready for the harvest and that’s when they get thirstiest. Every time there’s a full moon in September it’s their chance to come out and drink. And they drink people now too. Decades of drinking blood have changed the way they look. They used to look like plants. Some people even said their hair used to be made of flowers in the spring. But not anymore. Now their hair looks like the gnarled spines of a mesquite tree, their skin looks like a dried-out corn husk and their eyes have dried up into nothing. They say just looking at one is enough to kill you.” Neither John or I said another word the rest of the time we were boarding up windows. Soon the shadows were starting to get a little longer and it was time to wash up. It was getting windier and the grass was starting to blow around like golden waves. Out on the front of the porch Uncle Jack, Abel, and Ben were rocking back and forth in their chairs, telling stories and laughing. Abel had to wear bandages over his eyes from the war and Ben was an old man like Uncle Jack and had cataracts. Uncle Jack was lighting up his pipe and told us to “get on now” as he heard us walk by. They each had a shotgun in their lap. Momma was helping me get changed for dinner and asked me what was wrong. I told her about the Yucca Men. She sighed, closed her eyes, and rubbed a few fingers against her head. “Don’t listen to that boy.” She said exhaustedly “He’s just trying to scare you with a ghost story is all.” “I dunno.” I said, fiddling with a button on my vest. “That was a pretty good story and he’s not very smart.” “Oh yeah? Well, if looking at a Yucca man kills you, how does John even know what one looks like?” “I guess that doesn’t sound too smart neither.” Momma laughed and lifted my chin. “You’re right, it doesn’t. And all you need to know is that you’re safe as can be. Okay?” “Okay.” I said. Dinner was really good. There was mashed potatoes, and collared greens, and three whole turkeys. I asked why we always made the same thing for dinner every year and they all laughed like I said something funny. I asked Momma about it again later and she said it’s tradition. After dinner we made a fire in the parlor and started singing songs and playing games. It was a lot of fun too, but everyone seemed a little more nervous than they did at dinner. It was getting dark now and I saw Uncle Jack, Abel, and Ben leave the room. Everyone kept talking for a while, or taking turns reading from The Bible, but the air was starting to feel thick and harder to talk through. The fire was burning down so we lit a lamp instead. It was getting real late but no one was going to bed. All you could hear outside was howling in the wind, the shuffling of the grass, and footsteps patrolling around on the porch. There was the crack of a gun going off, and everyone jumped. No one said anything about it, but Aunt Maggie started leading us in a quiet song again. Then that died out too. Things went on like that for a while. You’d hear footsteps and the rustle of the breeze. Sometimes you’d think you heard a twig snap or something and you’d jump out of your skin. And every now and then there was a gunshot. Then one time there was a gunshot and a scream. Some of the grown ups turned around but the windows were boarded up and there was nothing to see. I could hear them using curse words outside. Nobody even tried to sleep after that and we all huddled closer together. I was sitting in Momma’s lap and she wrapped a blanket around us. She was muttering something I couldn’t hear. We could all hear the wind, the moaning, and the crying from outside. The wind never stopped, but eventually the moaning did. The gunshot’s kept going off till morning too. The sunlight started to creep in through the boards and we all started to stir. Uncle Jack’s voice came in through the front door. “Y’all stay in there and get breakfast started. We’ll be in soon.” Then there was more muttering and shuffling sounds moving away from the porch. Before we said grace and had breakfast Uncle Jack said we were gonna have a funeral for Ben tomorrow, but the casket would be closed because “nobody should have to see all that.” I was allowed to go outside again. There was a puddle of black in the dirt and streaks leading off to the shed. People were pouring saw dust and kicking dirt over it. There was finally time for me to go see the goats in their pen, but the rabbits were long gone from the thicket, off playing somewhere else. On the walk back to the house I stopped and took a long drink from that rusty spigot.

The Silhouettes Symphony

xuf7jh

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xuf7jh/the_silhouettes_symphony/

“The following texts were recovered while exhuming an unknown explorer randomly buried somewhere near a very unforgiving place, it was humid yet frigid, barren yet damp. While it is not implied if it was the adventurer’s own experience, hallucination, a fever dream, or something transcribed from ancient relics, one thing is for sure, it needs to be disseminated, could it be considered as myth? An urban legend? Or simple a conversation filler on a Saturday night in a local pub or tavern is for you to decide.” I would never for once thought that such a thing exists, have you ever feared something you cannot really comprehend? But rather feel its haunting hostility, the feeling of bludgeoning hands trying to grab you but as you turn your head you see nothing? Strange occurrences happened within our settlement that one cold night gesturing the start of the cold season. First it was a random scout, assigned to stay up to patrol and protect the settlers as they snugly fit themselves in their hide blankets and fur bedding, then more people were absorbed by the nightly darkness itself every three to four crescendos of the moon’s lullaby. I wasn’t in the settlement when this happened, I was out the wilderness, embracing the entirety of the world beyond the barricades, inhaling the air filled with different odours produced by the undergrowth and mingled with the overgrowth stench. We were hunters when we are outside and considered champions when we are inside, I shall not let myself be named, and hence you shall call me Nameless. Their confusing tongues sang of the events, although they never used their eyes clearly, their sharp nostrils did not identify the very thing that might have incited the very incidents that caused the importunities, their acute ears did not hear any sound that might have led to the capture of the culprit and yet they sang, not in unison but in a disarrayed arrangement of words and slurs. Confusing as it may seem I had to listen, I had to sit by and hear whatever they might say, trying to piece anything that might guide me...us to something that exists but was never before seen and if not found, might cause total desolation. How could I track something with vague descriptions from inaccurate storytellers? Huge, dark, quick, prowls, humanoid in appearance but is sightless, anosmic, deaf, and has a void hedged with rows of reddened, needlelike and incandescent compression of appetites. It is said to appear where the light casts it shadows, some witnesses opposed the idea, not only it hunts in the shade but wherever it can seek comfort and an abundance of fast fodder forage. They tried to fend off the creature that appears, they tried to cast stones, hit it with sticks, stab with their blades, chop with their axes yet it always prevails. It makes no sound but when it appears it conducts a comely cacophony of chaos, it delights itself in toying with the prey. I need to track it down, in order to put a stop to its maniacal medley, slaying the creature is the lingering query I do so repeatedly ask as I leave behind the disoriented settlers, still singing, still spouting senseless sentences while the gates to the settlement slowly shuts, soldiers on guard sweeping the skyline for an enemy who comes unannounced. As we were hunkering for the night, my compeers and I tried to recollect all of the information we got from the people and tried to craft a clever way to ensnare the creature in question, we were seven men strong, men of the old, the young and men in their prime. We were a motley of disposable virile men with no family to return to, just a place we must forfend. As our colloquy accompanied by the gentle crackling of the fire reached its peak we heard a distant rustle perhaps influenced by the puzzling descriptions of a ghastly apparition that gnaws and tatters its prey before devouring it, we hurriedly picked our weapons or whatever is the closest to us in order to defend ourselves with. Moments later, a shrew came into view, all of the blood that came rushing up our bodies started to trickle down where it should belong and in succeeding fashion gave out very nervous laughs as we try to look at each other’s blood drained faces. We, the men still in a panicked state mutually agreed that maybe it was time for us to set out and chase the herd of sheep leaving two guards as insurance. One stout, loudmouthed lad and a lanky yet experienced man in his aging years, they volunteered to stay up till daybreak since they boast themselves as nighthawks in every hunting expedition that we have been through, they should’ve pulled through till the morning but it seems that the smoke was never to blow to our favour, what we saw in the morning was utterly woeful. The first thing we noticed when we came to our senses after a night’s blessing was that they were nowhere to be found, their morning jovial yet questionably antagonistic manhandling of each other usually rocks us awake however it was different this time. Those two never got separated from their weapons but to our surprise their tools lay neatly beside their supposed places. The first thing that came into mind was that maybe they went out to gather materials so we went to play the rest of the morning as is, noon came and there is still no trace of them so, being adept at moving fast when working alone. I told the other four that I would try to look for them since we still need to put an end to the immense void of a vermin lingering around the area. I weaved through the vast warren of woodlands with its tall trees casting weird shadows and faces on gnarled trees be it dead or alive, fallen or standing though despite the wood’s eeriness and how fast I ran the cold never seemed to try and envelop me, it never amplified the beads of sweat that rolls down from my skin. After some more wandering I finally saw the first sign of my companions, a single tooth lying beside a log, drops of blood came after, following several marks ahead my tongue seemed to have tripped and folded itself in, disabling me to utter anything that could express my perturbation. There were two sets of teeth plucked cleanly out from whomever’s mouths in a pile with no sign of it being bloodied at all and yet lying close is a pool of dried blood. A disturbed curtain of trees opened up before me as I raised my head to look forward, the forest floor seemed to have been flipped over, smashed logs, broken branches, busted trunks and scratch marks littered the whole area, one thing is for sure, there was a pursuit and it might be the answer as to why our companions were nowhere to be seen but why leave their weapons behind to pursue a prey that could cause something as destructive as this? Rallying my cowering consciousness I continued on forward. After that clobbered clearing, the woods seemed to have huddled even closer as if there wasn’t any disturbance at all, there was a lingering silence in the air, my primitive instincts tells me that it’s not good to continue but the thrill of the hunt screams for me to go on, the fluids inside my body boiled, my sweat turned cold, my body was filled with soft shudders, as if I am caressed by death herself. The air around me seemed to have slowed its entry. The hands of time seemed to sluggishly drag itself in its own face, processing this while moving left me mindlessly wandering the woods. Not long after that my feet slowly submerged in muddy water, jolting me awake from that melancholic march. “Traces!, I needed to look for them!” Collecting myself, I trudged the small flooded area to reach the other side, as soon as my bare feet licked solid ground, the sun slowly shuttered into the horizon. I have to nod off to the toothless teasing face of the moon.             As I was rubbing crumbs from my eyes by the side of the flooded area. I noticed something amiss, a pile of untarnished nails could be seen leading yet into another thicket, bloodstains beside it guided me towards a clearing with a huge cairn in the middle of it, at the foot of the humongous pile of stones, hunched over in a total bloodbath feasting itself over what seems to be a freshly culled cadaver with its back facing me a huge, dark, quick looking figure and a mass of void hedged with rows of reddened, needlelike and incandescent compression of appetites. It rapidly snapped its head back in a wide faceless grin which seemed to me looked like he was mocking my sudden appearance telling me that it has waited for me for too long and got bored so it came with a cost. It slowly rose from where it was seated with slopping sounds, sporting an unnerving hiss that sent shivers in the back of my neck making me unable to move from my place. I clutched my club tightly in case that it jumps in for the kill, the forest started to raise its cheers, echoes from brutes, critters and vermin started the charades of combat, the silhouette paced around in its place seeming as if it was contemplating. As the cheers reached its climax and as a single leaf slowly descended its way to the rest of the foliage, the silhouette exploded from its place with nothing to flail but its arms, in a blink of an eye it came in close preparing for a strike with the tip of its arm. I struck the entity with my club in the side of its head, a guaranteed lethal blow, if only it was of normal nature. The huge figure was whipped from its mighty stance. I threw my club from over my head to keep it at bay and quickly turned around to exhaust all the air in my body for one great dash that meant life or death, a creature as immense as that taking a deathblow to the most vulnerable part of its body and is still standing despite it being bruised with a window busted from its rows of teeth is not an animal  nor a beast at all. It was something else. A silhouette in flesh and blood. I did not even try to determine if I hit him for a second time but one thing is for sure the forest had an orchestra of ferocious howls as I galloped retracing the way I came from. Lo and Behold! I found that my whole party laid strewn and mangled bits of flesh and garment scattered around. Staring in shock, the figures started to slowly turn their heads, revealing their faces and to my horror, in the same exact appearance, its immense size, and menacing presence with the same injury on the side of its head the only difference is that it isn’t alone, it has doppelgangers for each and every single one of them and yet it or they just stood there staring right at me. The howls did not die down to mere hums, the forest dwellers kept their boisterous banter. I do not know if it is from my nose or from my ears, there was blood from my head trickling down to my body. In a state of daze, I kept my composure, steeling my resolve I took one deep breath and quickly bolted out of the scene while racing against the breeze, the first thing that came into my mind was to run back to the settlement to warn them of the creature’s real nature. ALAS! I was dumbfounded and in awe for a scene of total carnage and decimation of the whole settlement was furnished upon me by a beast I could not fathom. Echoes from the cackle of the forest’s crackling kept on reverberating, bouncing off in every direction possible. I passed out, all of the strength in my body leaving comparable as to how the smoke for an offering goes upward. Woken up by the rondeaux of ravens circling around in a dance of death. Some picked up scraps and dug through the rubble, I dared not to enter the gates, for I already knew what I would witness inside it’s half torn walls and it’s smouldering huts. The smell of burning flesh and metallic odour of blood lingered in the air. The noises from the birds was not accompanied by the chaparral’s chorus. As I turn my back there it was, its stance was high and mighty. It wore the same face of the silhouette I tried to slay in the clearing by the cairn. It’s toothily faceless head that grins and mocks your very soul.                                   “Beware for when the timber hums the tempo, the silhouette’s symphony serenades every shadow.”

I was invited to dinner and was served human meat.

xua391

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xua391/i_was_invited_to_dinner_and_was_served_human_meat/

Guests chatted while sitting on the oversized velvet couch. Glasses of wine were held in hand and spilled as the personage let out an airy laugh. One woman wore a pearl necklace, along with her bright red lipstick and curled hair. Her hair was as white as snow, along with being short and neat. She crossed her legs as ladylike as she was and laughed whenever someone let out a joke. The woman sat close to the fireplace, with flames rising up and down. Above it was a deer head, carefully bestowed to the wall with its dead eyes twinkling whenever a flame grew higher. Of course, there was a painting nearby - the painting being a picturesque version of the house it resides in. Nearby the painting is a large array of knives, all sharpened and polished. In the room are all patrons of the house owner, purchasing his striking woodwork and displaying his craft inside their own manors and properties. The guests were not surprised when seeing the dozens of ornate woodcarvings around the house, only seeing ones in the foyer and parlor, of course. Madame Mistral, the woman whose scarf is made of fox fur, put down her wine glass and turned her attention to Lieutenant Anderson, a well-known purchaser of wooden art. The man was probably in his late 30s or early 40s, a somewhat stout and burly man. “I do agree that the bear and carp are one of Sir Bertholdt’s greatest works.” Madame Mistral spoke, her hands touching her white hair. The lieutenant nodded and took a sip of his beer. I glanced over at the stale conversation. Being a young fellow, I yearned for some interesting discourse. “Do any of you suppose that Sir Bertholdt will show up soon?” I asked, looking at the magnolia clock on the wall. The other guests in the room looked over at me. “Be patient, kid.” Lieutenant Anderson grumbled, crossing his arms while doing so. I sighed and moved some ice cubes around in my drink. The maid decided to show up not too long after. She quickly came into the leading parlor and greeted the guests winsomely. “Sir requests you in the dinette.” The maid said in her soft voice, smiling as she looked at all of the guests. All twelve of the guests followed the expeditious maid into the dining room. They had passed dozens of paintings, carvings, and plenty of display cases featuring tools. The dining table had exactly twelve seats, five on the long sides and two on the short ends. The table looked custom crafted, with coils of bronze at each corner and a sparkling finish to the wood. “I’m getting dinner out right now.” The maid said, wheeling in a cart with multiple dishes and platters of food. Each dish was concealed with a top, the very tip made of circular gold. The lieutenant muttered aloud if he could somehow get the gold and sell it to a pawn shop. Each guest anxiously anticipated the food. My mouth watered. The maid lifted the top of one dish, some sort of red meat exposing itself to the guests. The maid lifted another lid, exposing a human head on some leaves. All the guests screamed, with plates and utensils falling off the table. “This is gourmet; what's the matter?” The servant asked quizzically, putting the top back on the plate. “This is insane! I’m out of here!” One man screamed, running out of the dinette. A few more people followed the man, avoiding eye contact with the housemaid. Only seven people remained, eyeing each other inquiringly. I gagged, the smell of the food resembling that of a rotting corpse. Earlier, I was pretty intrigued, wanting to taste what wealthy people eat. Never had I ever imagined that the Bertholdt household would be like this. I got up from my seat and dashed out of the dinette, only stopping when finding the five runners on the ground. I had assumed them to be running for their lives, rushing towards the front door with such vehemence and passion for escaping. Straight out of a horror performance, the five guests were on the ground, dead. I conceived, to stay alive, I should follow orders. With a sigh, I walked back to the dinette and sat down next to a man with a pipe and a woman with a puffy gown. I gulped, trying not to look at the platters in front of him. “Child, what had happened?”Madame Lavandra asked, smoothing out her purple and puffy dress. Lavandra’s dress was a violet color, with some ultramarine circling the middle and ivory snowflakes surrounding the long sleeves. Although not close to the winter season, Madame Lavandra Van Schuyler is known for her unique and diverse fashion. “Nothing of the bad sort Madame; I had decided to meet Sir Bertholdt after all.” I lied while feeling the embroidered deer on my serviette. I wondered why the six other guests could remain so calm -- in spite of the fact that I am doing so. “Sadly, our other guests left. But on the bright side, there is more food for everyone.” The maid said with an exaggerated simper, opening the plate with its head. I grimaced and looked away. As I looked away, I could hear the head's squish while the maid cut it with her knife. Blood seeped onto the plate under the head, turning the white ivory into a deep and dark crimson. I could tell some guests grimaced but quickly returned to their regular expressions. Could they have possibly thought of the same idea as I? If they act obedient, no death shall strike them with a sword? I then could hear the plop of a piece of the head being placed on my plate and the others receiving their portions. “Is there anything else that I may have to eat? I am on a diet of vegetarianism.” I shrewdly spoke, looking up at the maid. “I am as well.” Madame Mistral announced a sense of remorse in her voice. “I shall prepare some salad and soup then.” The maid said with a dainty bow. After the maid wheeled the cart back to the kitchen, she stayed to prepare the new cuisine. “We must get out of here.” Madame Lavandra said, getting up from the table and ushering the guests to her. She stood under the doorway and waited for someone to follow her lead. “Don’t you see?” Lieutenant Anderson grumbled, frustratingly placing his utensils back on the table, “It’s all a trap.” He finished, looking down at his plate. “How, sir?” Madame Lavandra questioned, putting her hands on her hips. “The kid knows; he’s been in the hallway.” Lieutenant Anderson said, looking at me with a slightly raised eyebrow. “It’s true, ma’am, I’ve seen corpses,” I said, my eyes widening when reliving the scene. Madame Lavandra sat back down sadly. “Do you reckon that we will make it out alive?” She asked gloomily. “If we just go along with whatever is going on.” The man with a pipe said. His words were slurred as he talked with the meerschaum pipe in his mouth. For that brief moment, everyone had ignored the rotting head piece on each of their plates. I watched the wisped flame of the candelabra sway side-to-side, each glow reflecting off the faces sitting across from him. It had been a mere ten minutes of silence after the man with the pipe spoke. I knew I could’ve escaped by now; each minute was precious in his situation. But the problem is that I have no clue who else is in Bertholdt’s mansion. On top of all crucial things, the manor is on top of a hill, with no neighbors but the old sawmill at the bottom of the range. I sighed when examining the man with the pipe’s pocket watch, which read; 9:30 P.M. My mother must be worried sick; she even had warned me not to go to the unpopulated part of town. But alas, I still went to Sir Bertholdt’s mansion to be there for my cousin James, who was unable to show up due to work. Even though I had promised mother to be home before nine, all I could do was sit. The maid returned shortly after 9:32, grabbing my and Madame Lavandra’s dishes and replacing them. “I’m assuming none of you are hungry.” The maid said, glancing at the guest's untouched dishes. “I ate before arriving here.” Madame Mistral replied, looking at the maid with her cerulean eyes. “I understand; let us head to the display room after the two are finished.” The maid proposed, referring to Madame Lavandra and me. Everyone nodded, some more hurriedly than others. My mouth watered when eyeing my soup and salad; I was glad that I didn’t have to perceive the horrid stench of a rotting head any longer. I ate uncomfortably, viewing inadequate looks from the other guests, besides Madame Lavandra, who looked quite pleased with the other guest's expressions. I didn’t know if Madame Lavandra was one of those who enjoyed the pain of others or doesn’t express herself very well regarding her face. Nonetheless, I was glad I brought up the topic of vegetarianism, possibly opening up the subject of lying to gain for themselves to the other guests. I could’ve just stayed quiet, but then I remembered that the inhabitants of the manor don’t know anything about me; lying to survive is inevitable. After a short while, I put down my utensils and watched Madame Lavandra finish up. “Goodness, sir, you must’ve been starving,” The maid told me, viewing my empty plates. I nodded and placed my serviette back on the table. The maid then led the guests to the display room, everyone on edge and eyes broadening when surveying the items they deemed as suspicious. I took note of the things, especially. The display room was only down the hall from the dinette. Although the walk between the two was only a few seconds, everyone felt like it was hours. The lack of conversation and apprehensive tension stung the guests right in the heart. A man suddenly entered the room, which caused the entire atmosphere to change. Something felt different. His appearance was unlike anything I had seen before. He dressed like a king, with long velvet robes and a golden cane with what appeared to be a ruby in the center. He smiled while entering, flashing his pearly teeth at everyone. "Welcome, my friends!" he announced cheerily. No one smiled back or even replied. The man looked disappointed to see this. "I am Sir Bertholdt; thank you for joining me today for my wooden carving auction." Everyone continued to look at him with sheepish faces. Bertholdt proceeded to shake everyone's hands energetically. When he came to me, though, he scanned me from head to toe. I suppose he was surprised to see my rugged appearance, for lack of better words. I only wore my brown fishing overalls with my best green sweater underneath. "You don't belong here, do you?" He asked with a smile. It seemed so insincere that I sneered. "My cousin, James, wanted to purchase some of your work, but he couldn't make it, so I'm here for him. Don't worry, he gave me money," I replied, somewhat angry. "Good, good. Now, let's get on with the festivities!" Bertholdt said with a sing-songy voice. Bertholdt led us down a hallway with many paintings, carvings, and taxidermic animals. He eventually stopped at a double door that a maid was standing in front of. "Sophia, my dear," he said in passing as Sophia opened the doors for us. We walked down a few flights of stairs to a large room about the size of an ice skating rink. Chandeliers and candles lighted the room on the walls. The walls and floors were both composed of rock, oddly enough. The rest of the mansion was mainly wood. Madame Lavandra and the others suddenly grabbed me and pushed me towards Bertholdt. He held my shoulders tightly and forced me to glance at the dozens of wooden carvings against the wall. He held my face with his hand and smiled cheekily. "Aren't they amazing, Finny?" he giggled. How the hell does he know my name? Bertholdt was more substantial than I expected. Being a couple of inches taller than me and stronger made me start to lose hope that I could fight my way out of this situation. Bertholdt clapped his hands and pointed at a wooden carving of a giant bear. Suddenly, Lieutenant Anderson triggered a machine of some sort above the carving to slice it in half. There, I saw my cousin, James, being slit in half. I screamed, calling out to him, but it was too late. I knew he was dead the second the saw touched his head. "Why are you doing this?" I pleaded with Bertholdt, tears streaming down my face. He smiled, and everyone laughed. I scowled through my tears and kept trying to escape Bertholdt's grip on me. Bertholdt knocked me to the floor, and everyone began holding my limbs to the cold, hard ground. I kept thinking to myself *why are they doing this*? And I imagined my poor mother's face. Even writing this is making me tear up. I'll continue my story soon, but I assure you it is not for the light-hearted...

I smuggled drugs in the 1980s for a narco kingpin. I brought something home far worse than blood money.

xtm1nw

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xtm1nw/i_smuggled_drugs_in_the_1980s_for_a_narco_kingpin/

Having a pilot's license in the 1980s gave me many opportunities. The most lucrative of them were not within the bounds of the law. Most of my free time was in the sky. I carried packages of a certain white narcotic that was in high demand. I spent my free time in Miami. The limitless amount of cash afforded me the best clothing, drinks, and jewelry. I also met my fair share of women at that time in nightclubs. If I was smart I would have maintained a low profile. My mindset at the time was juvenile. "When you see an opportunity to be flashy," I told a fellow party-goer, "why not indulge in that decadence?" I knew that one day you were King, and the next you’re in the poorhouse working a dead-end job - or worse, in the penitentiary. I had to let loose while not at work since I had a few close calls back then. There were times when I landed in Colombia and believed I would never make it out. I never snitched on any of my superiors or equals. This is why I still have a pulse today. When they thought I may have been culpable of ratting on them, I had to clear my name. I always did. The kind of assignments I undertook was easy for me. For starters, I was a great pilot. I am also of Hispanic descent, and I have no problem fitting in with the populace over there. I rarely raised any red flags. Some may speculate how facing near-executions should have been a wake-up call to flee to a place far away. What the person on the outside looking in does not know is how good the adrenaline rush feels. The natural high you get when you are living on the outskirts. and working against the system the way I did. The outlaw lifestyle is one of the most addictive elements on earth. This is especially true when it is abundant. Around December of 1993, I did decide to take a long hiatus. In my mind, I was not giving up the life. The notion of retirement was nauseating. I thought about putting the brakes on the entire operation was a good idea. The highest boss at the time had died on a rooftop in his home country with a bullet to the back. I did not trust anyone to take his place. I did not believe a new leader would be anywhere near as profitable for his subordinates. \* One day I sat in my apartment watching television. The phone rang and I answered. The voice on the other end was hoarse. He sounded as though he finished chain-smoking twenty packs of Pall Malls. “We know you stole one of our bricks,” The man said. “I went to one of the *brujas*. I had him give you a little karmic present. Enjoy.” I hung up and tried to forget the conversation, though I knew it was a sign I had to move. \* I bought a cabin away from society. It was in the mountains. The views surrounding the estate were breathtaking. In the first six months, I was there, I felt a bit isolated, but I knew it was for the best. I had an escape route mapped out if the authorities were to ever circle the place. Tapping my phone was impossible considering I did not have a phone. I watched old westerns on VHS and read thriller novels during my downtime. I fished, hiked, and hunted every other free moment. I still grew deathly bored. To go from having your heart racing every single day to living like Thoreau is a culture shock. I kept copious amounts of cash buried around the perimeter. It was in everything from shoe boxes to milk crates with pieces of wood placed over their tops. There were no witnesses to watch me shovel in the remoteness. There were stacks of bills stuffed into my mattress, so I rarely had to resort to unearth the currency. I grew out a beard and dyed it a color I never had before. I went into the nearby town and stocked up on everything from top ramen to Blue Label scotch. A month after the booze had run out, I searched my bed for more money and found I had tapped that particular reserve. I grabbed a shovel and went out back. I dug up one of the boxes and brought it inside. As I laid out the money on the floor, one discolored bill, in particular, caught my attention. It did not even resemble a typical Franklin. Upon closer inspection, I saw the bill had dried blood. A symbol was on it. The mark appeared to be similar to that of a corporate logo, but one that was completely unknown to me. I was willing to wager it was unrecognizable to most everyone. It looked as though someone tried to remember how to draw a pentagram and failed. I knew I could not spend it in town without attracting attention, So I threw it in my wastebasket. I left, purchased the necessary liquor in town, and came back. \* I awoke in the middle of the night to the sound of rustling. I sat up and stared at where the noise was coming from. It was in the corner of the room, where the wastebasket was. In the darkness and drowsiness, I contemplated how it was more than likely a rodent. Something seemed out of place when I opened my eyes a little more. The rim of the wastebasket had unusual shading around it. It seemed as though someone had painted it with a dark and inky liquid. I stood and switched on the lamp. The wastebasket looked normal in the light. I shrugged and thought it was a result of exhaustion. I had spent the day splitting wood. I turned the light off, got back into the bed, and rolled over. I slept well and did not wake up until seven hours later. When I went to stand, I saw a shadow on my wall. It was humanoid and held a staff. I saw the shadow entity shake the object in the air. It unnerved me so much that I even ran my hand along the wall, where it dissipated. \* I spent the morning trying to shake off the feeling of interminable doom which had befallen me. I made coffee, eggs, and bacon. As I was frying my food to start the day, I heard a loud pounding noise. It came from the eastern part of the cabin. I sat my utensils down and went into my room. I reached for a very large mag light and knife. I also grabbed a pistol. I held the blade downwards and crept towards the persistent noise. I crouched and waited for someone to crash in through the window. I knew it was likely not a lawman, since they tended to announce themselves. I reasoned it was a stray or an adversary. Remembrances of news headlines about a serial killer being active in the area came back to me. I stared at the wall for a long time. There was no silhouette through the shuttered casement. The ruckus ceased altogether. With the gun clutched, I went outside and searched for footprints. What I found instead horrified me. Dismembered animal carcasses were everywhere. The limbs of elk and the bloodied, severed claws of bears were strewn about. I gazed at some of the crimson stumps as the hair on my arms stood up. Whoever had done this had wielded a hatchet with more brute force than precision. I circled the cabin and did not see any trace of a human. I contemplated how it was almost as though someone had dropped the parts off from a plane. I scaled a nearby hill to get a better look at the uppermost part of the structure. There were streaks and wide swaths of blood coating the rooftop. I shoveled the animal remains into mini trash bags. The smell was abominable. I tied them off and kept them many yards away from my house. I knew predators would come in the night to feast on the collection. I thought of the possibility of this not being a targeted event. I knew about the kind of damage that flocks of geese could do to an engine, but this was beyond inexplicable. My mind went through scenarios of exotic animals transported via aviation to dictators. Something could have gone wrong with the latches. It seemed like a silly hypothetical at the moment, but I was trying to calm myself down with an explanation. Even if done on purpose, I could not figure out who would complete such a thing and why. \* My head pounded. I went inside and laid down. I felt myself drift off to sleep. I heard a brief scratching noise which I dismissed as a tree limb scraping against the rain gutter. Drowsiness overcame me, and I saw something protrude in the corner of my left periphery. I looked over. Spider legs the size of batons emerged from the waste basket. I awoke screaming and sweating. I glanced over and saw that the wastebasket was normal. I wiped my brow and kicked my feet over the edge of the bed. I took in a few deep breaths. I stood and paced. I picked up a paperback and read a few passages. I decided to give sleep another go, faithful another night-terror would not fall me. Darkness whirled around me as I melted into the embrace of slumber. I was in my cockpit. The earth below rushed towards me as divided squares of land. I was in the beginning stages of a crash. All I heard was my voice screaming out the word mayday. I knew it was futile, a result of training-based instincts and desperation. The sweetness of jet fuel, singed flesh, and flames greeted me in an instant. Scorched metal, debris, and burnt pieces of electronics sunk into my skin. I wanted to shout for help, but my voice grew muffled in the enveloping swarm of land and wreckage. The disassembled morass of ruined parts flowed around me in rivers of sparks. I crawled out of what looked to be a narrow prism which I widened with what little ounce of strength I had left. My skin peeled off as I trudged through the dirt and grass. I cranked my head around to look at the ruined plane. The same sigil which was on the hundred-dollar bill I had thrown away was visible on the side of the aircraft. I yelled out at the lowering sun before I awoke again. When I sat upright, my hand graced something cold. I looked down. The wastebasket was right next to where I had lain. I got down on my knees and threw up into it. I had to destroy the symbol. Before the night was over I would fish it out and burn it. My decision felt superstitious. Still, my suspicion of the source of bad luck was undeniable. \* It has been many decades since that last nightmare. I have never had a repeat of that one. I have had anxiety-inducing ones about planes crashing into me. They occur in isolated and peaceful settings. Another unusual change in my life has been the continual presence of spiders. I have already hired an exterminator to come out and try to rid me of the nuisances, to no avail. They lurk in my cabinets. They are beneath my floorboards and in the cracks of every piece of furniture. I am always at war with them, though I am armed with a bountiful amount of insecticides. They crawl on me when I dare pass out. The dead animals also became a recurring incident. Something always took them away in the night whenever I put them in bags. Some may envy me for my reclusive lifestyle and my lack of typical responsibilities. If they only knew the true hell I live in, with the constant worry of how many animal bodies I’ll have to clean up the next day and how many visions of obliteration I endure. They would not trade their normalcy for my existence if they only knew. I still see the shadow of the man who likely cursed me. When I go into town, I see the same symbol. Sometimes it is a piece of graffiti on a bus bench. Other times it is an ornament hung on a cab driver's rear view mirror. It taunts me. This morning I walked out and saw words written in blood on my front door, likely with a sharp end of a stick: *Vivirás en el mundo que creamos para ti.* *You will live in the world we create for you.*

Please Pollute The Fucking Aquarium

xu3w3a

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xu3w3a/please_pollute_the_fucking_aquarium/

“Rachel, I know you’re on vacation, but I’m going to need you to come in today. We have urgent matters to discuss,” my boss spoke over the phone. I frowned, realizing that this was the downside of being the assistant lead marine biologist at the city’s aquarium. “Whatever you say. I will be right over.” I hang up the phone and grab my keys. Twisting the ignition, I start up the car in front of my apartment. Through the heights and the nearby highway, the sky was visible and white as a ghost. Rain pours down in sheets from a violent storm despite it not being hurricane season. I take a sip of my coffee as I enter onto the highway more chaotic than a movie theater filled with drunk teenagers. My car wheels slip against the wet pavement path leading up to the aquarium. The vast expanse had the architecture like that of ancient Greek ruins and had well-polished marble to complement the atmosphere, too. Hundreds of glass tanks rise up from the aquarium like awakened underground giants punching from within the Earth’s crust. Each column of glass was etched with bronze coils and wings, making it resemble something out of a high fantasy anime. Below the foundation is an immeasurable concrete and glass base that disappears into the ocean. I park my car and peer off into the water. Schools of tens of thousands of fish jump out of the water away from the aquarium out of the blue, startling me a bit. Once I regain my senses, I grasp onto the railing for a closer look. “Why are the fish suddenly so active at this moment?” I wonder. Whales nearby pay no attention to the buffet right within swallowing distance and also swim off. I veer at the glass columns towering above the blue void. “What the heck…” I mumble. No sea life was contained inside like usual. The only thing that was inside was a crystal-clear void. Maintenance workers do take out wildlife if problems are severe enough and they need to get into the tanks. But what kind of situation inside the building would be severe enough to cause such a disturbance outside of the building, though? Outside from a fuel tank explosion, there is none. Rushing to my car, I take my work bag. Automatic sliding doors with brass dolphin symbols squeak open. A reception desk resides in front the aquarium’s crown jewel: a shark tank massive enough to make the owner of a mansion swimming pool green with envy. I double take at the exhibit. It was completely abandoned. My boss gives me a nod in front of the reception desk. Her hands were behind her back and her face did not move much as she spoke. “Good morning, Rachel,” she says. I shake her hand with a smile. “You wanted to see me, Linda?” When I get the message that she means business, my smile vanishes. “What happened to the shark exhibit? Did the maintenance workers take the specimens out to fix a problem or something?” “The maintenance workers checked everything last night. All was in order.” As she speaks, she straightens out her white lab coat. To be on the safe side, I turn to the empty shark tank, taking out a notepad and pencil. The filters were churning out bubbles like usual. Salinity content was stable. The pH was normal as well. I shrug it off, taking a look at the maintenance agenda, wondering if the animals were just taken out and put in temporary tanks. Nothing comes up. I flip each page and inspect them diligently, eyebrows furrowed. The schedule indicated that animals were indeed, never taken out. “Our star attraction is not the only abandoned tank. Have a look.” Linda motions to the expanse the lookout stood over. “Huh???” I whisper. Every tank was devoid of fauna. I pull out some binoculars. Not even small, insignificant fish were present. Upon closer surveillance, cavities as dark as soot were just standing there. Each hole went straight through the sand and concrete as if a mining drill were dropped into the ground and it started burrowing infinitely. Around the edges of the breaches were claw marks that smoothed out the perimeter and left small clumps of dust. At some of the pits, teeth and claw marks were gouged into the floor. Something dragged the marine life down into the depths below the tanks. While searching for more evidence to support my conclusion, my stomach drops. For unexplainable reasons, there was neither a single drop of blood or chunk of flesh, nor any decaying debris from the attack. “Rachel, meet me at the deep-sea exhibit.” \--- Fake lighting glowed from the plastic and steel replicas of deep-sea fish, mimicking their real-life bioluminescence. Neon lighting in the corners of the tanks brightened the holes that replaced the creatures in the empty tanks. Linda motions for us to sit in the theater seats of the visitor area. She activates a switch which brings down a white projector screen. A picture of the entire aquarium pops up. “Five hours after closing time yesterday, the night guards reported that animals were missing from their tanks. They reported that masses of tentacles erupted from the ground, seizing the creatures and dragging them down like hands of the dammed latching onto a soul, ready to drag it to Hell. I took some archived footage of the event from the cameras.” She switches to the next slide with an aerial view of a manta ray tank. For five seconds, all is quiet with the exception of the hum of the machinery. In the span of ten seconds, a net of squid tentacles burst out of the foundation, twitching and writhing like the heads of the mythological Hydra: all clustered together and attacking in harmony. Together, the tendrils latch on to each flapping ray, hauling them into the hole. A billow of blood spews out from the opening, scattering around the tank and tinting the hole a deep ruby red. Back up suction cup arms burst out again to siphon up the cloud of maroon. “Why would a creature want to clean up every last bit of debris possible?” I wonder. “Most animals would move on or just take the carcass without worrying if a piece falls off.” “Two hours before the aquarium was supposed to open, I dropped remote cameras into these holes, hopping to shed some light on the situation.” She flips to the next slide with a cut away view of the aquarium and circles the massive crypt that penetrated the fault line of the beach. “Each hole led to the trench beneath the oceanarium. Our job is to figure out what caused this mass vanishing. The aquarium is equipped with maintenance submarines. We will use them in order to investigate this situation.” She clicks a button on the screen, making it retreat back into the ceiling like a snake backing off into a crevice. “Follow me.” She guides all of us into an area behind one of the empty jellyfish tanks, leading us to a door marked “AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.” \--- Water sloshes around from the turbulence below the row of seven fluorescent submarines. Each machine was surrounded by a single screen shielded by a layer of glass thicker than the Earth’s crust. On the tail end of the vehicles were five separate motors. Four were in the corners, one was in the middle. Each submarine had multiple hatches used to store analysis and repair extensions. “Why do we have these submarines in the first place?” I ask. She glances at me. “They’re meant for repairing the foundation only. Sea water can erode concrete much faster than you think.” Lightbulbs swing from cords and illuminate the area. Linda walks along a painted line over to a control panel, typing in a password. A small green light flashes, unlocking a box of keys. For a moment, she keeps her hand still in reticence, letting the wheels turn in her head. She pauses. I walk up to her. “Is something the matter, boss?” I ask, trying to make eye contact. Linda snaps out of her funk, looks at me, and straightens out her long black hair. “It’s nothing. Here. Let me get your keys.” She pulls out one of the key bunches and drops it in my open palm. I look at the key number, match it with the same submarine, and enter the door smaller than a coffin is wide. The screen at the bow turns on and surrounds me with blue light. I put on the wire connected steering gloves, fasten my seat harness, and calibrate everything. “All systems go.” I say. “I have no clue what is going to be down there, so the both of us must stay together. We only disperse if I give the order. Understood?” “Yes ma’am.” We release the metallic aquatic probes into the water, splashing it across the floor and the corners of the walls. Light evanesces into the liquid depths as Linda instructs me to descend into the unknown. \--- “DEPTH 100 METERS.” The control system’s voice drones. I tilt my right hand down, steering the submarine towards the seabed. My boss’ vehicle is right in front and has its arms extended in case if things start to go south. At the perimeter of the screen is my supervisors face staring at her screen. Linda adjusts her hair once more. “Please tell me this isn’t what I think it is…” Linda mumbles, shrinking into her seat. “DEPTH 200 METERS.” Barely discernible patches and streaks of red hover dozens of meters from the top of my vehicle. I glance back and check the surroundings again. The streaks had vanished and no heat signatures except for those belonging to the rest of the steel armada come up. “DEPTH 400 METERS.” Beep, beep, beep…The radar reveals a new heat signature. Tentacles resembling those on the video swoop down and investigate my submarine. My spine tingles. Closing my ring finger on my left hand retracts all of the submarine extensions and covers them with steel fixtures. I raise a finger to my lips. Heavy breathing echoes from the speakers. The tendrils slide around the sides of the submarine, attach to the glass panel and tap the sides, searching for an opening. Eventually, the elastic arms retreat back into the darkness. I stare up, trying to see the source, but am unable to find one. My boss starts to hyperventilate when the tendrils come back and start poking around her submarine. Sweat begins to pour from her brow. I can hear her breathe heavily through the mike. “Shut up…” I mouth. The tentacles drape across her screen and start to tap faster than rain. Creeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaak…The unseen wraith continues to wrap its dull appendages around the submarine. After the appendages have lost interest in the probe and retreated, she finally relaxes, wiping some sweat off her head. I rest my hands on the cockpit chair in confusion. It’s obvious that was the thing responsible for all the trouble. The creature could not possibly be any species of octopus or squid. Not even a giant or colossal could reach a size even close to that of the unseen beast. What the hell was that thing? “Boss, should we abort the mission?” I ask. “We’re lucky that whatever that thing is, it hasn’t bothered moving to the open ocean. It could destroy the entire aquatic biosphere if it decides to move elsewhere! We have to find answers on how to contain it or kill it.” “That thing could rip open the subs like a wishbone. What other reasons do you have that would justify us risking our asses and confronting such a threat?” She makes a chopping motion with her hands for emphasis at each word. “If the ocean biosphere dies, we’re next. Do you want to live on a planet without any food?” “…I understand…Let’s proceed then.” \-- “DEPTH 1000 METERS.” My submarine drones. “Hey, Rachel. I found something.” Linda says. A light shines on a cliffside littered with the remains of an underwater laboratory. Glass and steel corridors have turned into shattered pipes. Barriers and doorways have been torn off their frames. Computer and hologram systems are cracked with nothing on them but blank, powerless screens. Linda swallows a lump in her throat and frowns at the sight of the refuse. I lock eyes with my boss’ screen. “You seem tense, Linda. Do you know anything about this?” “Twenty years ago, hundreds of underwater research facilities were built in this fault line. They were all used for an important experiment.” “Maybe we can find some clues about the monster around here.” Pushing my arm forward, I float over a path of more inconceivable rubble, trying to find where the trail leads. I turn back to investigate for more information when my light scans over some more shattered corridors that leads to a basin filled with nothing but more glass rubble. The light hovers over a small containment tank the size of bathtub. Half of the thick shield was in splinters. As I rotate the vessel back, I notice seven more cylinders lying in an aimless heap. I continue down the steel base of the abandoned laboratory hive, finding thirty more tanks hurled, knocked over, or obliterated. “What things were stored in these?” I think to myself. Linda moves her jaw back and forth. The light on the bow illuminates a suction cup around the size of an apple from a piece of flesh. “Goddamn it…” she groans. My face droops a bit. “That thing can’t be responsible for all this!” she says. I push my head back with hesitation. After taking a deep breath, I gain the courage to speak. “Linda. Please tell me what is going on.” And then she beams her light one last time and the color drains from her face. Limp as boiled noodles are two tendrils the length of seven school buses. One was constricted around a chewed-up manta ray, the other slunk around the head of a shark. Its head was a deep, sewage waste brown. The inside of its mouth was a shimmering abalone blue coloring. “It was only supposed to go after the foreign creatures…” she whispers. “It was responsible for the destruction of the aquarium all along…” I grit my teeth. The politeness filter just expired. “Foreign creatures? Linda, explain yourself! What did you do?!” I bark. She sighs. “Twenty years ago, civilians around this bay area started spotting hundreds of hostile creatures like the one that the tentacles are wrapped around. They were extremely hard to capture, killed civilians as if they were cattle, and laid waste to this beach area.” My face loosens up. “The reason I created the aquarium was because those bastards were destroying the sea life that once flourished in this bay. I wanted to preserve them and keep them away from them.” I start to twiddle my thumbs in confusion. My eyes widen when I realize the gravity of the situation. Are the hostile creatures searching for us? Was that unknown beast one of those? And why would my boss feel guilt towards something that is seemingly out of her control? My boss rests her head in her hand. “No one knew how to deal with the hostile entities, so I set up those laboratories to help create some entity that could eliminate every last one of them. It took hundreds of tries, but we eventually created something that we believed was a silver bullet.” Her voice speeds up in a panic. She starts shaking her head rapidly. “None of this was supposed to happen! The project turned out perfectly fine after I ran all those tests! It was supposed to eliminate only the targets!” Let me get this straight: you tried to contain hostile, unknown, and unpredictable entities by sending out franken-douchebag, which is another hostile, unknown, and unpredictable entity, to sort everything out?” I raise a brow. Her mouth tightens, but she eventually speaks. “Yes.” “WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?! YOU PUT ALL MARINE LIFE AND OURS IN DANGER!” Tears stream down her eyes. “I didn’t have any other choice! It was the last option we could think of!” I groan. “I’m doing this because the world and my job is at stake, not because I feel sorry for you. Tell me you at least have a game plan.” “Yes. I will take the north. You take the south. We’ll search for more clues.” “What about those other creatures? We can’t just let them roam around!” “For now, we need to find out how to destroy the failed experiment.” I take a deep breath and calm my nerves. “Alright.” \--- Two hours pass. “DEPTH 1500 METERS” “Linda,” I say, holding a sincere hand out. “I don’t forgive you for getting us into this mess, but I can see why you would create that experiment in the first place. People do stupid stuff all the time when they are under pressure. You were trying to do what was right.” “You don’t need to forgive me. This is my problem, and I’m going to do everything I can to fix it. The only reason why I brought you along is because of your intellect. But now that seemingly everything has been gathered, if you want to leave, I give you permission. I need to face it alone.” “I’m not letting the world get destroyed. We’ll face it together.” The motors rip apart the water like hooks tearing apart taffy in a factory. All of the lights are on full blast, yet they don’t even make a dent in the shadow curtains. However, I get a glimpse of the basin wall and give it the cold shoulder. Bulbous eyes fill cracks in between the spasming muscles. Massive conical carbuncles jut hard and firm and point at my ship. In the opening of the abscess, I can barely make out greyhound-sized brooding pouches. So that’s where the tyrannical leviathans came from. “Linda, what is your status?” Her screen shows her submarine examining the sea floor and analyzing the tendrils peeking out from fissures and pulsing. “I’m trying to find answers to this situation. So far, I haven’t found anything that can be put to good use yet.” A light begins to glow in the distance, refracting light that shined on the translucent labyrinth. “Hang on. I found some giant shimmering thing. I am going to investigate. What about you, Rachel? What’s your status?” “As we speak, I am descending the main basin. I think I found the source of the foreign creatures. Haven’t found any signs of your failed experiment, yet. Do you know what I should look for?” “It never reveals its true form to anyone for defensive purposes, so it doesn’t have a weakness that I know of. We are going to have to figure something out.” “Are you kidding me,” I think to myself. The camera on Linda’s submarine pans downward. Smoker’s mouth yellow spheres the size of fists lie in the recesses of a cliff. Halos of blood surround black pits in the epicenter. Stems of muscle and nerve tissue hang from the clusters in the cliffside. Eyes. Veiny brain matter surrounds each of the eyes, making them look like the cells of a packed honeycomb, except with the shade and texture of marinara sauce. Beating hearts throb on top of the conglomeration of assorted cells. “What in God’s name is that thing?!” Linda looks away from the revolting lump. She follows the arteries connecting to the tumor. SPLAT! Her vehicle crashes into a hidden carbuncle. When tries to back up from the mini mountain, her ship remains stuck to it. She activates the prodding arms, ripping apart the mass of tissue and tear into it like teeth against barbecued ribs. The individual cells on the structure are illuminated on the camera. “My creation is just one single entity. This cannot possibly be my creation! It shouldn’t have evolved to this extent!” Linda panics. As she frantically pans the camera around, hundreds of flesh mountains are illuminated. My boss’ sub spins around to get the lay of the land. A wall of flesh resembling that in the basin fills the crater. Her light shines on a carcass that had a head matching the brute in the clutches of the tentacles. It resembled a mixture between a shark and a trilobite and the very end of its tail was still attached to the tip of one of the small hills. The corpse slides down a bit, peeling down one of the flower-like lips from the base like a banana and revealing the other pouches contained inside. She turns her head to the mass of random flesh, nodding as an idea forms in her head. “If I destroy that cluster of eyes, I think that half of our troubles will finally be put to rest. Focus on finding my creation; I can stop those other monsters from bothering us.” “Right away.” I say. I shine a light on a cluster of hanging rocks. A school of those marine behemoths scatter. Their tails swish around like whips. My heart skips a beat. More trilobite-tailed leviathans slither back into the midnight walls. They are too far away, so my radar doesn’t make a peep. Artificial lights resembling jaws flicker on and off before escaping from the armada of submarines. “Be on your guard.” Outside from the ocean ambience, the flustered breathing of my boss, and the humming and beeping of the technology, everything is quiet. Deep crimson tentacles, like those that took out the first submarine, rise out of the abyss. I motion for the workers to freeze. “There’s no way we can possibly take down whatever the hell Linda created,” I thought. Tap…Tap…Tap…Tentacles blanket my viewing screen. Sensing that there was a human inside the pod, the beast jabs at the screen. I kick the motor into high gear and flee from the area. “RETREAT!” I yell. The tentacles immediately thrash me around, bashing my capsule into the depression’s sides. Tendrils coil around the circumference of my ship, grinding the side of the hull. “HULL STRUCTURAL SUPPORT: 75%,” the intercom screams. When the monster thinks enough damage has been dealt, it hurls my vehicle right in between two of the conical flesh pods. My cockpit bounces violently against the gap, thrashing my arms against the rests and pulling them from the piloting gloves. Shuddering, I frantically and clumsily search for them. I take a glance at the perimeter cameras, immediately working on fumbling with the steering gloves when four tentacles and two opportunistic sharks give chase. Finally, I get them on, reactivating the arms and shoving away the first shark. Next, I work on pulling myself out of the muck. Out of my peripherals, an elastic arm constricts around the other, dragging it into the penumbras. Seconds later, a single head is spat out. Right in the middle is one massive triangular wedge where a tooth had bitten off the rest of the shark’s body. When I free myself, I thrust the steering device into the max speed, my head scanning around for shelter. “Linda, what’s your status?” “I’m just working on destroying the growth,” she says. All of the flesh mountains burst open from my boss’ point of view, releasing a school of crustacean amalgamations that immediately lock her. She rips out some of the eyes, signaling the beasts to accelerate even faster. I turn my head to the side, watching more of the aquatic predators attempt to bite at the motors. I find a crevice with just enough space to guide the submarine inside. Retracting the arms, I gently maneuver it. I take a sigh of relief as the tentacles pursue elsewhere. With one eye on the cameras and one on the screen, I speak to my boss, sweat raining from my brow. Her camera shakes as a pair of rusty iron teeth crunch down on the sub and try to open it up. “Linda?! Are you alright?!” I shout. “WARNING! CRITICAL DAMAGE TO THE HULL!” Meanwhile, Linda forces the jaws of one of the beasts open. It releases a blinding flash that stuns both of us for a moment. A pulse of white blinds me. Ringing fills my ears and puts me in a daze. When I snap out of it, Linda’s camera was haywire and another shark joined in trying to open her submarine like a nut. She takes a mechanical arm and punches the shark in the gills, making it retreat in pain. She repeats this attack to the other one and it seems to also flee. The legs of the shark’s long tail latch onto my boss’ submarine, scrapping it against the ground. Four more sharks join in. Suddenly, a crescent hole bursts open from the side, water bursting in. “HULL BREACH! HULL BREACH!” Linda just gasps in horror and gives me one last look of sorrow as she types in her coordinates. “I’ve failed. I was supposed to stop my creation,” she says, bowing her head in defeat. My jaw drops when her screen suddenly cuts to black with the message written in red “SUBMARINE 1 SIGNAL LOST.” “Linda? LINDA?! LINDA!” I shout. “Do you copy?!” Nothing comes out. I take a look at my hands in disbelief. I was now in charge of fixing everything. A vision of the half-eaten manta ray enters my head. If my mission fails, the world is bound to end. The coordinates pop up in the top right corner. I narrow my eyes. It’s time to finish what my boss was supposed to complete. Beep…Beep…Beep… I wasn’t alone in the cave. Something barges against the motors. I shine a light, noticing that it was another shark. I try to free myself, only for the mechanical arms to get stuck. “WARNING! TOO MUCH PRESSURE ON THE ARMS!” The submarine drones. The tentacles come back for more, battering the front. The shark behind me starts to rip apart the motors one by one as if my ship was a flower in the hands of a teenager playing the “loves me, loves me not,” game. I thrust my hand out, setting the engine on full throttle. All the submarine did was harshly scratch against rock and barely move. Eventually, I free myself, severely damaging the arms. A siren begins to blare. The shark gives chase, but is quickly snatched up by the tentacles of the unseen monster and dragged into the unknown. When the shark vanished, dozens more sharks rise out from the darkness, joining in the frenzy. “Shit!” I yell, rising to the lips of the basin. The school of beasts try to latch onto the motors and disable them. They luckily come up short. “DEPTH 1000 METERS.” Glimpses of the glass ruins fly past. “Come on. Give me a sign!” I growl. The rotors whirr as fast as possible. One of the sharks lunges at the camera, only for the tentacles to entrap it. At the front, the mysterious white glow rises from the tumor’s dwelling. I thrust the glove forward. I nod upon seeing the state the mass is in. Brain matter and eyes were completely removed. All that was left was a massive beating heart that was covered in more tubes than a dialysis machine. She reaches for the largest vein and tries to disconnect it. A school of sharks lunge at her and carry her away. The tentacles draw in closer towards my cruiser. I pound my cockpit seat in frustration. I grunt as I tries to free the arms from the jaws of the leviathans. In one quick strike, the tentacles all stick onto the sides of the submarine. The barely functioning motors are overpowered by the strength of the unseen beast. Sharks ram into the screen like battering rams against a castle. I grit my teeth as I try to desperately pull away. Finally, I free myself from the clutches of the beasts, charge at the throbbing vein, and yank it off the heart. Suddenly, the aquatic horrors stop moving with an omen of dread hanging over them. The beasts immediately explode into nothing but cartilage and viscera. Each of the blasts had a radius of over twenty feet. Out of nowhere, I am able to pull free from the king-sized kraken. Without hesitating, I prepare to surface. The schools of hundreds of sharks were bursting into showers of blood. Linda’s experiment starts feasting on the clouds of blood in delight. The walls of flesh begin to burst into nothing but trails of guts as well. My eyes widen suddenly. If Linda’s creation has no known weakness, what if we could instead keep it occupied so it would leave the rest of the sea life alone? Seizing an opportunity to escape, I begin to surface. \--- A day had passed and a news station came over discussing the sudden cloud of blood around the aquarium. I explained to them that I found where the beachgoer murdering monsters came from. In addition, with my boss dead, I became head of the aquarium. However, I had no intent of holding any sea creatures there. Instead, I converted it into a research facility dedicated to figuring out how to find the weakness of the beast. The tanks were turned into storages for lures, which were just gallons upon gallons of blood, dead fish, and chum. Day by day, the beast would stick its arms into the holes it left behind from the attack yesterday to feed, giving us time to analyze its weaknesses. I told them that I recommend closing all beaches near the coast due to the methods of containment not exactly being foolproof. The amount of chum thrown into the aquarium was so great that surrounding sea life could not survive long in the waters around. Their gills would fill up with so much blood that they would suffocate. This was actually a side effect that was rather serendipitous as it prevented ocean life from coming to close and possibly drawing the beast out of containment. Finally, I told the news company was that this lab is doing everything in its power to find a way to stop it, but until then, I advised everyone to dump in some meat in the bay and to please pollute the fucking aquarium.

My last fishing trip ...

xtvj8g

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xtvj8g/my_last_fishing_trip/

This might be the first and last story that I will be able to share with all of you. I have been "hooked on" fishing ever since I was a little boy. There was a river a couple of kilometers away from the place we lived, to which we would always go at least once or twice a week with my dad. Each week it was the same thing. My dad would come home from work and ask me: * Waylen, did you finish your homewo... - And I would always cut him off right before he could even finish saying what he was about to say: * YES DAD, NOW PLEASE LETS GO TO THE RIVER! - I would then say to him in an excited manner. He would then give me a faint smile knowing that I probably haven't even looked at my homework. And right he was, most of the time. At first we had a rule that I would have to finish my homework first, and then we could go to the river, but after a couple of attempts and a couple of missed fishing trips, that rule was quickly dismissed. That might've not been the best decision, but we couldn't help it since we both loved fishing so much. We would then go late in the afternoon, camp at the river the whole night and come back home somewhere around lunchtime. Those were the days I'm telling you. Anyways that was a long time ago. Ever since he passed away things just haven't been the same. I have tried going fishing a couple of times but I just couldn't enjoy the fishing experience by itself, but rather I would reminisce about old times and how good things were. I used to work as a delivery man, and most of the time I worked alone. I started enjoying the time alone, being able to listen to whatever music you want and not having someone on your head the entire day. A couple of months passed and my boss decided to upgrade my truck to a bigger one. The problem was that I would have to deliver much heavier stuff and it would be pretty hard to do that by myself. Problem solved. I had a new colleague accompanying me then. His name was Dave. He had been working for the company for a long time but we never spoke to each other. At first I thought: * Here goes my peace and quiet that I love so much. But after we got to know each other I found out that Dave was not a bad guy at all. People might have thought bad of him because of his appearance but he had a kind heart. One day we were going back and forth in our conversation: * So what were you up to this weekend? - I asked him. * Oh not much just went on a little fishing trip. There is a lake nearby and it's full of fish I'm telling ya. My eyes widened up a bit. Dave didn't strike me as a guy who would like to go fishing. * No way. - I snapped back at him. * What? - He asked me. We talked a bit and he got really excited when he learned that I loved fishing as well. That's the story of how we became fishing buddies. Fast forward a bit. It was Friday, somewhere around lunchtime and we had to deliver a package to a rural village right next to our town. On the way there we saw a lake a couple of kilometers before the village. We never knew about this lake and it peaked our interest. We always carried our fishing gear in the truck so there was no way we wouldn’t visit this new spot we just learned about. Package delivered. We went around the village searching for a fishing store, because we had to buy some supplies first, and surprisingly we found one. * Hey there boss! - I said to the cashier as soon as I entered the store. * Hello mate what can I get for ya? - he replied. * Ah, just a bunch of worms, and a can of corn. - I said. * Anything else I can get for you mate? - He asked as he was typing on the cash register. * No that's all thank you. Oh and by the way, do you know anything about this lake that's a couple of kilometers before the village? - I went back to ask him. His face dropped. This surprised me a bit, because he had such a big smile on his face the whole time. * I'm sorry I can't tell you anything about it. - He replied coldly. I just assumed he didn't know anything about this lake so I just grabbed the bag with the supplies, gave him the money and headed towards the exit door. * Have a nice day sir! - I said to him as I exited the store. * Good luck.. - That was the last thing I heard as I was leaving the premises. We were really excited about going to this lake despite not knowing anything about it, so we entered the car and took off. * The way he said "good luck", I didn't quite like it. - Dave said to me. * Why? He probably meant good luck with fishing or something. - I replied. * Yeah, probably. - Dave muttered. It was getting kind of late. The road that lead to the lake was really bad, but that didn't stop us and we finally reached the lake. The place was beautiful. Not a single ripple on the water, surrounded by thick shrubbery and tall pine trees. I was surprised how there was no one else besides us here. As we were getting our fishing gear out a tall bearded man approached us. * Hello there! - I said to him as he was coming towards us. * ... * Are you the owner of this lake? - I asked him. * ... - Nothing again. He then reached his hand into his bag that he was carrying with him. I got scared for a second but then he pulled out a notebook and started writing something down in it. A couple of minutes passed and he was finally done. He left the notebook on the ground and he started walking back towards the forest. Not long after he was gone. All of this really weirded me out. * Hey what's up? - Dave asked me. During this strange encounter Dave was in the truck so he had no idea what had happened, and so I thoroughly explained. For some reason Dave found this to be really funny. * Don't think much of it Wayl. - He told me while giggling. Dave started setting up the tent as I was getting the fishing rods ready. Maybe because the shock from all of this I completely forgot about the notebook. An hour or two later I had to take a piss, so I headed towards the woods. On my way there I caught a glimpse of the notebook, but it wasn't on the ground where the mysterious man had left it, it was pinched underneath the wipers of the truck. I thought to myself - This is really weird. There was no way for the notebook to get over there by itself, and we haven't seen a single person go by. I forgot entirely about taking a piss and I headed for the notebook. I opened the notebook and the following was written down on the first page: It requires you to abide to the following rules as soon as you read them: 1. Don't have more thank 5 fishing rods out at once. 2. Do not litter. 3. Release all fish that weight under 2.66kg. The first set of rules seemed normal, setting aside rule #3 which was oddly specific, but then the rules started getting weird. 4. You can light a fire twice, and each fire must contain no more than 6 logs. Only after the first fire has gone out can you light a second one. 5. You must write down in this notebook everything important that has happened in the last hour. After you do that you must tear off and burn the page with the things you have written down on it within 6 minutes of writing it. 6. You cannot talk to each other about anything regarding your experience throughout the night, but you can read it from the notebook before burning the page. 7. If you break any 2 of those rules, you will be unable to leave the lake for the next 6 hours, starting from the moment you have broken the given rules. If that happens you must pay close attention to the notebook. 8. IF you make it through the 6 hours you will be able to leave, but you must never speak to anyone about anything regarding this lake. You have been warned. At first I was unsure if I read the rules correctly. Is this some kind of joke? I ran to Dave with the notebook and I gave it to him. He read through the rules and started laughing. * There is no way you believed any of this right? - He asked me while laughing. * Yeah right. - I replied, letting out a nervous giggle. * Come on, this guy is probably just trying to scare us so that we don't do anything stupid and ruin this beautiful lake, and by the looks of it he succeeded in scaring you. - Dave said. * Nah you're imagining things. - I replied trying to not look scared at all. * Anyways lets get back to fishing - Dave said. As we only had 4 rods in total, we were respectful enough towards nature to not litter, and we didn't catch a single fish for the first couple of hours, so we complied with the first 3 rules without even thinking about them. It got cold really fast and Dave said that it's time to light a fire. While he was chopping wood for the fire I decided to play along with rule #5. And so as soon as the next hour came I started writing down what had happened. I wrote down that nothing out of the ordinary had occurred during this last hour. Out of the corner of my eye I saw that the tip of my rod had started to bend a little. I immediately jumped out of my chair and I set the hook. And there it was - the first fish caught for the day. It was a catfish which weighted around 2 kilos. Dave said it would be perfect for the grill. I teased him and said: * Aren't we going to keep to the rules? He just looked at me and laughed. Dave put his knife through the fishes head and started filleting it. I then used the page that I had just written down on as fuel for the fire. The fire had 7 logs in it so while Dave wasn't looking I removed one of the logs. The other thing that was bugging me was the time. Six minutes hadn't passed so rule #4 and #5 were complied with. We ate and we got back to fishing. The next hour came. I opened the notebook to start writing down what had happened but then I saw that rule #3 had been erased from the first page. I mentioned it to Dave but he didn't believe me and he thought that I was trying to scare him. I brushed it off as a coincidence. Man how naïve could I be... I wrote down what had happened during the last hour and I poured myself a drink. As we were talking to each other Dave suddenly stopped talking. I asked him what's wrong but he didn't answer. I thought that he was mad at me for some reason so I decided to not bug him for the time being. Here comes the next hour. I reached for the notebook but Dave got it before me. When I took a closer look I realized that he was shaking a little. I asked him what's wrong, but he didn't answer. I've never seen him look scared ever. This was a first for me. After he finished writing in the notebook he handed it to me. It read the following. * I know you might not believe me and think that I'm trying to scare you, but I shit you not I saw something on the other side of the lake. It resembled a deer in a way, or only it did at first. I think it realized that I was looking at it, and when it did it stood up on its back two legs and it started staring at me. I know my eyes might be playing tricks on me but it looked like its flesh was rotting and it was hanging down from parts of its body. I just couldn't take my eyes off it. Please tell me I'm not going crazy! As I was reading this I took a glance at Dave. I could see the terror in his eyes. I was scared to look at the place he mentioned this creature was , but I did. There was nothing there. Dave looked as well. Confusion was written all over his face. I ripped the page out of the notebook and I threw it in the fire. * Maybe we should slow down on drinking Dave - I said to him. * I am perfectly sober Weyl. I don't think alcohol has anything to do with this. - He replied, his voice was trembling. It was midnight now. We both took turns writing down what we thought about this strange occurrence. As I was writing in the notebook we both heard some branch break in the distance. We both looked in the direction of where the noise came from. To our relief it was actually a deer. A normal looking deer passing by. I started laughing, on the other hand Dave got mad that he had been scared for nothing. He took an empty bottle and he threw it at the deer as it was running away. * Hey you should go pick that up. - I told Dave. * Yeah, yeah my bad. I just got really mad for a second there. - He replied. And we both started laughing. Dave went off to look for the bottle that he threw at the deer. I decided to write down for the last time what had happened in the notebook. I thought to myself: "Maybe the person that handed me the notebook is the owner of this lake, and he likes reading about the experiences of the people that visit the lake." I took my pen and opened the notebook, only to see that all of the rules from the first page have disappeared. I started getting scared again. * What is going on? - I asked myself. Then I realized that Dave just broke another rule. No littering. As I was started to panic I saw a new rule appear right before my eyes on the first page of the notebook: * Do not move... * What? - I muttered. As soon as I read the new rule I felt a presence standing behind me. Chills went down my spine. * D.D...Dave? - I whispered. ... I could feel and hear something breathing right next to my ear. Chills went down my spine once again. And the smell... it smelled like something had died and had been rotting there for weeks. I wanted to scream, but I was horrified of what might happen if I do. So I just stood there staring straight ahead not moving a muscle. A couple of minutes passed and that "thing" finally started going back into the woods. It had only been a couple of minutes but for me it felt like hours had gone by. I started running towards the truck. I got in but when I tried to start the truck nothing happened. I whipped out the notebook to see if a new rule had appeared but it hadn't. The only new thing on the page was the following sentence. * I warned you. I once again felt like something was watching me and unfortunately I was right. When I looked in the side mirror of the truck I could see it, it looked exactly how Dave described it. It was standing behind a tree, peaking at the truck. Taking a closer look, it had arms and legs like a human would, but the torso and the head of a deer. It was holding something in its left hand. When I realized what, or "who" it was ,I wanted to throw up. It was Dave. I guess all of this was too much for me and I passed out. I woke up in the morning with tears flowing down my face. The notebook was gone, and so was Dave. Everything was right where it was the night before - the tent, the fishing rods, the stools - everything. I started looking for Dave. I was way too scared to scream his name, because I thought that, that thing might still be out here. The feeling of helplessness overwhelmed me. I went back in the truck and this time I managed to start it. Without a second thought I floored it, leaving all the stuff that we brought here behind. As I was driving on the bumpy road I saw that the tall bearded man was staring at me from the edge of the forest. I never looked back again and I drove straight home. People have asked me what happened to Dave. I was never able to tell them the real story because I was too scared of what would happen to me. Well no more. This burden is too much to carry and that's why I'm sharing this story with all of you. I do not know what might happen to me but I can't blame anyone for it. We had been warned.

I met someone on a dating app.

xtta67

nosleep

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/xtta67/i_met_someone_on_a_dating_app/

I(19F) matched with someone on a dating app. It was a pretty normal match. Man holding a fish in the picture, aged 34 with two kids and who loves hiking. He was a bit old, but boy, he was good-looking. The most handsome man I’ve ever met, no exaggeration! His name was Luis Martinez. He started the chat with a quick “what's up girl?” You know, normal. I honestly didn’t expect anything from this person, but he proved me wrong. We hit it off pretty quickly. We both enjoy reading poetry and watching basketball. His children are named Sophia and Charlie, both girls and 10 and 7 respectively. He seemed perfect. About two weeks into texting, I gave him my Snapchat. Usually I don’t do that too early in a relationship, but he and I were really getting along! I truly believed this would sprout into a wonderful relationship, and I could be a mother, something I’ve always wanted, ever since I was a child myself. I’ve always been paranoid about stalkers and stuff, so I I had my snap location off and I wasn’t a frequent poster. I didn’t have anything that would reveal my location or anything of the type. I don’t know how he found me. But he did. And this is where it started to get really creepy. Five weeks ago, I got a Snapchat from him. It was a screenshot of the place I work at, coincidently five blocks from where I lived. “Five”. When I asked what he was trying to do— it freaked me out, a lot— he pretended like he didn’t know anything. He played dumb. So I ignored it. Bad, bad mistake. Four weeks ago, same thing, but it was a picture of my friend’s home, four blocks away from mine. “Four”. Again, he was clueless. I brushed it off again. I really don’t know why. Three weeks ago. The park I take my dog to. Three blocks away. “Three”. By this time, I ghosted him completely. He’ll stop now, right? I didn’t block him though. I’m so dumb. I called the police two weeks ago, when it showed MY CAR two blocks away from my home with the captain “two”. The police couldn’t do anything though. Because no matter where they looked, Luis Martinez lived nowhere. He existed nowhere. The man I met on the dating app did not exist. His children did not exist. Nothing about him was real. A chill went down my spine when I first heard that. One week ago. It was a garage sale. Someone was having a garage sale one block away from me. My roommate was in the picture. “One”. I just ignored it. A friend was pranking me. It had to have been that. This was just ridiculous. There is somebody knocking on the door. Neither of my roommates came back after checking who was there. They’re gone. I may be, too, soon. I just need to get this out there. I’m on dial with 911 this second. He can’t escape now— they’ll catch him. I know they will. They have to, right?