The Shadow Beneath Whelford

April 18, 2014 at 12:00 AM
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December 25th, 1976. 11:00 PM. Christmas was winding down for most residents of Whelford. For its burgeoning police department however, the night was just beginning. A call had been received reporting flashing lights and loud noises coming from the abandoned coal mine, which lay just inside the border separating Whelford from the neighboring hamlets. The captain at the time, John Ford, had driven out to investigate along with another officer, anticipating nothing more than a group of teenagers out on a dare. Christopher Raymond was not included amongst the original dispatch, though he wished he had been. Most of his coworkers would’ve relished a day off on Christmas, but for the newly recruited officer, what should have been a day of merriment and celebration had, as per usual, turned into an excuse for his family to rag him out for his life choices. “Why would you ever leave Boston for this cow town? Why did you marry that Mexican whore? Why haven’t you and the whore given me a grandchild?” They never came to visit of course. It was a matter of principle for the elder statesmen of the Raymond family to avoid the perceived filth of Whelford. The lack of a physical presence from the parents didn’t make the obligatory Christmas phone call any less insufferable. The worst part of it was that his family was correct in at least one of their assumptions. Why had he up and left a promising position in a big city organization for a tiny no-name town out west? His wife’s status as a Mexican citizen didn’t bother him as much, and he was in no hurry to produce an heir to the now “corrupted” Raymond line, but the initial question still gave him pause. So when Christopher’s phone rang at 11:20 PM, with a frantic sounding sergeant practically begging him to drive down to the office for briefing, it was less of an unpleasant interruption and more of a godsend.

30 minutes later, Acting Captain Christopher Raymond was on the scene at Cunningham Mine. Everything was shaping up very conveniently for him to play hero. Both members of the original investigative team sent to the mine had completely lost contact with the outside world. The new recruits from Worcester and Boston were not arriving for another few days. And out of all available field agents, he had been summoned to follow up on this case. As he approached the mine, Christopher knew he had to force the uncomfortable sense that this was all too good to be true out of his brain. He was finally getting a chance to prove himself! An opportunity to get his foot in the door in this still foreign environment! Still, “that feeling” remained. The feeling that despite everything falling into alignment, something was off. It was a sort of paranoia that was a key tool in any effective policeman’s belt, yet it was especially pronounced for this occasion. “No time to worry now.” The officer’s thoughts dug their way through his brain and out his mouth for the first time in a very long while. He was quite correct in his assumption. The gaping maw of the mineshaft awaited him.

The scene that lay before the new captain as he entered the mine would not have been out of place in a geological freak show. The mineshaft was constantly shifting, wide to narrow, tall to compact. Every now and again a faint rumbling could be heard from somewhere deep below his current position, but this was the only thing he had noticed thus far that was even close to a clue. The more he wandered, the further he threw himself into the guts of the Earth, the more Christopher wanted to return to the surface. He was normally unfazed by the darker places of the world, but Cunningham Mine had a certain bleakness about it which chilled him to the core. Still, there was a job to be done, and he was not going to leave until his compatriots had been found. Taking a left at a rotting support pillar, Christopher called out, “Officer Ford! Officer Shepard!” His request for the missing officers’ presence yielded no reply. Right turn. The once-blinding cone of vision provided by the flashlight was now beginning to dim. Onwards, onwards, onwards, down into the endless, twisting halls of the mine. Faster now. “Officer Ford!” A rumble from below. “Officer Shepard!” A scraping noise from behind. Another right. And another scrape. Something was here. Down a slope. Faster. He could hear a squelching sound, closer than before. It was closing in. Christopher whipped around, gun in hand and…nothing. He turned forwards and began to run, then stopped himself. Had to stay calm. He began to explore once again, more prudently this time. Diligence and patience were key in these situations. Left. “Officer Ford!” Still nothing. Christopher rounded a bend and found himself facing a long hallway, a faint light at the end. Finally, a breakthrough. Once again, he began to run. As the light closed in, it became clear that this was the entrance to a room. A safe haven. And if luck was on his side, some answers. The light drew closer and closer, until finally – “Jesus Christ!” Officer Raymond skidded to a stop at the entrance of the room. Something was not quite right.

It was a bizarre sight indeed. Before him lay an abyss, the likes of which he had never seen before. It couldn’t have been a dynamite blast from long ago, gone badly wrong – the gap in the ground was almost ethereal in nature. The stone which made up these walls was different than the pale granite that comprised the rest of the mine. This made the smears of bright red strewn across them all the more striking. Pentagrams, pentacles, and far more ancient insignias from a dark, lost age adorned the sides of the artificial cavern. A doorway across the pit led deeper into the mine, but this chasm was clearly an impassable obstacle; a detour would need to be found. As Christopher cautiously wheeled around, taking care not to lose his footing, a muffled cry came from above. He shifted his gaze to the ceiling, and suddenly, the mission was complete. The missing officers had been found. Dangling from the top of the room was a sea of sickly-green pods, each containing the body of an individual who had found himself unlucky enough to venture into this primordial chamber. Hundreds of the pods, mashed together, swayed back and forth in the nonexistent breeze. Christopher could do nothing but stare, paralyzed by consternation, as the abominable container closest to him was ripped open slowly, the material comprising it stretching and straining against itself like a revolting sheet of plastic film. From inside of the shell emerged former Whelford Police Captain John Ford. Initially bewildered by his surroundings, Ford quickly remembered the purpose of his escape.
“Raymond! Get the hell out of here! They’re-” The ex-captain was cut off by a droning, guttural groan stemming from the hole which he swung perilously over. “Just go! It’s too late for us!” As if to prove Ford wrong, dozens of other pods began to open. Unbelievably, the bodies of the miners who had initially stumbled upon this unfortunate room had been perfectly preserved. Their wails echoed through the room and down the hallway – “Help! Help!” “For the love of God, get me out!” “Save us!” Their rapid movements only worsened their situation- one by one the pods dropped like icicles into the abyss. With each falling pod, the hideous noises from the pit became louder, and began to shake the room with increasing measures of violence. Yet still, Christopher was rooted to his spot. An unnatural gust blew in from the hallway behind him, and he was momentarily engulfed in a blinding cloud of smoke. Just as suddenly, the smoke cleared, the cavern was still and silent once more, and from the apex of the room, a booming voice both angelic and demonic, divine and unholy, rang out to address Christopher with three simple words – “Don’t look down.” This was enough to snap him out of his reverie. The pods were falling at a faster rate; the whole mine seemed to be collapsing. Ford was right. It was time to leave. Christopher bolted back down the hallway, feverishly working up an escape plan. Left turn. Right turn. Another left. The violence of the quaking seemed to increase tenfold with each passing second. Everything was slowing down. The hallways were spinning. Well aware that he was losing consciousness, Christopher attempted to stumble just a bit further, but to no avail. He fell to his knees, desperately grasping for a last moment of life. His vision blurred. His mind emptied. A shadowy figure skulked forward from the end of the hall. The blackness seeped in. And the mine was no more.

How Christopher had managed to end up in his bed by 7 the next morning was a mystery only to him. According to his fellow officers, he had never left it. There was no “John Ford” or “Haley Shepard”, nor had there ever been at the Whelford Police Department. The mine had been caved in for decades now, and Christopher had never gone there to investigate anything. He hadn’t come into work in the past few days in fact, and it was a relief to find out that he was okay.

This, at least, was the story he got. The town had a certain stillness to it that it had lacked before. The rowdy were docile, the children had calmed, and by the time he returned from grocery shopping that afternoon, Christopher knew that something was wrong. He had to have been to the mine. All of the memories were so vivid. This merited further investigation. Upon arriving at the mine for (supposedly) the first time however, the story perpetuated by those down at the station seemed true. A heap of rubble and wood blocked the entrance to the mine completely. He strolled up to the ruined doorway. Maybe he was just going crazy. But he had to be certain. His ear pressed up against the cool stone. And in a flash, his suspicions were confirmed. In that instant, Christopher Raymond ran from Cunningham Mine and never looked back. It may have been a trick of the mind, or perhaps just the wind. But from that point on, he would never deny that he heard something when he placed his ear up to the entrance of that accursed mine – the piercing screams of those still trapped in the recesses of a place that something beyond time, or space, or human comprehension called home.

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Out of Body Experience

April 17, 2014 at 12:00 AM
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My life ended in mid-December, the 17th to be exact. I survived a little after that, but that was the last day I lived freely.

I was goofing off on the internet that day, kind of flicking through my newsfeed, reading interesting news stories, that sort of thing. Sometime after one thirty, I found an article on lucid dreaming and out of body experiences.

I skimmed through the article. The author mentioned astral projections and plane walking a couple of times, and other similar terms. I’m not a hardcore naturalist who believes that everything has a natural explanation, but telepathically visiting alternate planes seems far-fetched, especially when it comes from someone trying to sell you something. Still, I was interested. It sounded similar to lucid dreaming, which I’d had fun with once or twice. I thought of them as just a biological glitch.

It’s not like it’d be a challenge to find how-to guides for out of body experiences on the internet, so I won’t bother being super-secretive about it. The goal of out of body experiences is to get your body to go to sleep while retaining consciousness. When you go to sleep, your brain shuts off movement signals to the physical body so that you don’t hurt yourself while you dream. Out of body experiences utilize this feature of the brain to make mind think it’s moving while keeping the body stationary.

The concept arrested my mind. I couldn’t let it go, and I found myself looking forward to the night. I waited for the day to pass, and when night came, I set up safety measures; if something did go wrong, I didn’t want to be stuck in dreamland for an eternity. I set my alarm for an hour after I planned to have my out of body experience, so I wouldn’t be stuck for too long. Hopefully the sound would bring me back to my body in case I couldn’t get back.

So at eleven o’clock, I went to bed and slept. I had trouble falling asleep, but eventually I dropped off. I slept for a few hours, then woke up and went through the process of getting an out-of-body experience. Once I was ready, I took a few seconds to collect my thoughts, then tried pulling myself out of my body.

Once I started forcing myself to move, my perspective altered, and I could see myself from the side as though through a different set of eyes. I could still see with my eyes, but I had a second view from an outside perspective, watching myself. I could still feel my body, but it was distant. I forced myself to sit up and to my delight, I felt myself moving but my body remained still. Through my outside view, I could see a ghost detaching itself from my body. I was elated.

My pleased surprise only lasted a few seconds before I felt my body freeze. Just as I realized that my trick had really worked and that I had no control over my body, an amorphous red cloud filled my vision. It hovered over me for a second, then disappeared as I inhaled.

My body reacted instantly and began seizing up. The spasms made all of my muscles clench, relax, and clench again. In my trance I think I counted four convulsions every second, but I’m not sure how long they really lasted. It was terrifying; I knew I’d set my alarm clock for ninety minutes after I’d begun my lucid dream, but I couldn’t last that long. At the rate I was convulsing, it would only be a few minutes before my heart gave out.

The red cloud obscured my vision, both from the outside perspective and through my eyes, and even worse, I was paralyzed. I tried to force myself back into my body to stop my seizure, but I couldn’t get in. Then I heard the voice.

It was like a grating rumble rasping deep in its chest, but it also had an animal quality, burning with anger. Not a shrieking fury, but slow, deliberate menace.

“My…Name…Is…”

The voice filled me with terror. I wanted to run as far from it as I could get, but I was frozen. Names had power. I didn’t want to hear it, I didn’t want to know it. Just as it spoke its name, I shouted my own name through my convulsions, drowning its voice out. It stopped speaking, as though surprised it had been interrupted. It growled softly as the red smoke began to dissipate, and I fell into my body again. My seizure stopped and I woke up.

I don’t know how long this experience lasted. I’m guessing about twelve or fifteen seconds, and probably no more than a minute. My chest hurt and my muscles trembled, but I was alive. I was rattled, but I managed to convince myself that something went wrong and I created a nightmare. Maybe my fears of what could happen surfaced subconsciously, I reasoned. Whatever the case, I decided not to exploit any more “glitches” in my nervous system and went back to bed.

I slept through the night, though I was uneasy. The next morning, I awoke and convinced myself that my experience had just been a fluke. And I had more pressing matters on my mind. It was exactly one week before Christmas and I had no idea what I was getting for my family, so I showered, dressed, and headed out the door. The events of the previous night quickly fell to the back of my mind as my car entered the rumbling traffic.

At least that part of my day was a success. I bought most of the presents for my family and girlfriend, and I just needed a few for my other friends. As I was browsing the aisles of Wal-Mart for a good pair of headphones, my arms suddenly felt like they’d been encased in ice. I jerked in surprise and the feeling vanished. As it went away, I heard a deep, indistinct whisper. There was no one nearby, unless you counted the seventy-something woman a few feet to my left. I shook my head, thinking I’d felt a draft of icy wind, and continued shopping.

I went to bed that night and found myself unintentionally entering that half-awake state, but I felt vulnerable. I didn’t want to push myself out of my body, but I felt myself slowly rising out of my body. Terror shot through me as I sensed the red smoke hovering over my body. It felt like it was trying to pull me out. As soon as I realized that, my eyes shot open and I came back to my body, shaking from fear.

I didn’t sleep that night. I knew that my oppressor was still there, and I got more tired as time wore on. I would begin to fall asleep, then jerk awake as soon as I felt myself being pulled out of my body. At first I tried to ignore it. I knew it was coming for me, but I started eating real food and drinking caffeinated drinks, which helped. Morning was an immense improvement; I didn’t feel so tired with the sun up already. As soon as it was light out, I went outside to get some winter sunshine, enjoy some Christmas movies, and finish Christmas shopping. I couldn’t hear anything through the day, but I had a feeling that I was being followed. I tried to blot the fear from my mind as I returned to my home.

I felt jittery. I knew I had to go to sleep eventually, but I didn’t want to think about it. six or seven, I began to microwave something when I began hearing the voice in my mind. I dropped the plate in my hand and it shattered.

“My… Name… Is…”

Its voice now held contempt as well as that bitter anger. I yelled my name out loud when it was about to announce its own, hoping that it would drive the demon away like last time. For a moment I thought it had gone away. I relaxed but then heard its laugh, deep and slow. It was unsettling, like hearing loud, harsh music. Its laugh rolled on for several seconds, then it spoke again.

“Your… name… is… worthless…”

“My… name… is…”

I said my name again, this time more forcefully. Its chuckle lasted longer this time, but then faded to nothing. I listened intently. I couldn’t hear anything, but I knew it was still there.

I finally moved from my frozen position. Leaving the broken plate and splattered food, I rushed to my computer. I began searching the internet for the thing, but there were too many possibilities. It could be a demon, an asura, a ghost, or any one of hundreds of other of spirits described by the cultures throughout the world.

As I clicked on another link, I heard its laugh again. A chill invaded my body and I heard its voice.

“Hear…My… Name…”

“Shut up, shut up, shut up!” I screamed.

It laughed again.

“Your… Name… Is… Worthless…

“Your… Commands… Are… Void…”

“My… Name… Is…”

I tried to ignore the terror inside me, but I shouted my name again. I had a sense it was shaking its head as its laughter faded.

What sort of demon places such importance on names? Names were supposed to give you power over the demon, not give the demon power over you. What kind of mythology was this from?

I returned to my computer and began a new search.

* * *

It came to me several times in the following hours and whispered its name. Finally, I stopped trying to drown it out and listened. When the demon spoke its name, it was so soft I couldn’t hear it. It sounded like softly hissing static, a name composed of indiscernible sounds. As soon as I stopped blocking out the demon’s name, it began whispering mine.

Nothing happened as far as I knew, but I grew even more nervous. My searches weren’t helpful, and I couldn’t hear the demon’s name well enough to get a clue what it was.

My body felt weighed down. If my eyes were closed any longer than a blink, sleep washed over me. I couldn’t sleep, though, because every time I began to drift off I felt the terrible presence hovering over me. I’d jerk awake and begin another string of searches. It spoke probably four or five times an hour, and whenever it whispered its name, I strained to hear it. It was still an indistinct hiss.

Sometime in around three in the morning I realized I could hear its voice in the real world. I heard it when the wind blew past my window, when the furnace kicked on, when water ran in the bathroom. And it grew louder as the night wore on. I began blasting my music, but I could hear its rough voice in the static between songs. The demon’s voice grew louder and louder until I could hear its muttering in the background of my favorite songs. I stopped listening to music at five in the morning, but I could still hear the voice in the computer’s fan and in the creaking of the house.

The morning was worse. I rushed to the library as soon as it opened and began researching out of body experiences, religious beliefs on demons, ancient religions, and the like. Nothing helped. The things I found helped me understand the science of the thing, but there was nothing to explain hallucinations after waking up, unless I was taking hallucinogens in my coffee. As I burned through the pages, I could see the dark red smoke in the edges of my vision. When I glanced at it, the smoke would vanish. I would go back to reading, and it would rematerialize. By the afternoon I saw the smoke hang in the air for a few seconds before fading to nothing. Evening came and went without relief, then I decided to go home. I was rattled after my day in the library, and not much better off. As I drove back to my house, I could hear the demon’s voice grumbling in the engine, saying my name, muttering threats, and grumbling its own. When I turned off the car, it didn’t even bother masking its voice anymore. I could almost hear its name now, but it was still distorted. Worse, I could feel its frozen breath tickling my ear and smell its dusty, rotten breath.

I scoured the internet all night, going to several forums for supernatural and paranormal. Few people had heard of demons like this, and they couldn’t advise a defense other than a crucifix, holy water, or salt, but I doubted they’d work. I stayed up all night hoping for someone knowledgeable to show up on the forums. I was disappointed.

About two hours ago, the kitchen lights started flickering. The pencils in the jar have started rattling softly, and I swear I can see the cans of tipped-over energy drink slowly rolling toward me. Not only can I hear its voice, but I can also hear a faint, high-pitched keening, like a distant boiling kettle. And footsteps. Heavy, inexorable footsteps, coming closer, and when I turn to confront my enemy, I only see indents in my wooden floor.

It’s six in the morning now, still dark, and I’ve reached the limit of my endurance. I have to fight it. I’ve chosen my best defenses in an attempt to ward it off, but somehow I doubt they’ll work. I’m alone, I’m exhausted, and I’m done fighting. I’m sorry everyone, but I just can’t…

Stay…

Awake…

Credit To – Crow

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The Watchtower

April 13, 2014 at 12:00 AM
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____________________ by Doctor Slim
Part 1

People always have pondered what another intelligent being would be like. They’ve always theorized that these beings would be light years away and that us, humans, would be dead a very long time before we ever made contact with them. Other people say that they have already met them after being abducted and experimented on. Then some will say that we are the only intelligent being there are or ever will be. Well, I can say say one thing for sure and that’s no one was right. We were all so very wrong…

Back when I was a teenager, I’ll admit I was a smoker and an avid drug user. I’d done most drugs that were deemed “safe” from my friends such as LSD, MDMA, DMT, many prescription drugs, and I even had a phase where I did some over-the-counter drugs. As a teen, I like to think I played it smart by only doing those every so often and stick with my main fix. Weed.

I used weed almost as a social tool to some extent. What I mean by that is it got me to meet people who all were similar to me in at least the one aspect; we just wanted to get high. Around the end of my Sophomore year I met this kid named Ralph at a party and we quickly found out that we had a lot in common so we became friends.

When summer came, I’d hang out at his house, which was out in the middle of a forest, at least 4 or 5 times a week. While I was at his house, we’d barely ever go inside because his parents never liked anyone in there. Instead, we’d go to his barn which was filled with cats that were most likely illegally being held. You’re probably thinking why the fuck someone would hold cats in a barn. His mom actually bread some very expensive cats ranging from around $500-$3,000. She never had a permit for it either, and most of them were very maltreated by barely being fed or given water. Anyways we would hang out in that barn for hours every time I came over and all we would really do is smoke weed and cigarettes. We grew bored of that after a couple weeks since there wasn’t much to do so he started to show me some cool spots throughout his neighborhood.

Some of the places were just a great view like this place we called the ledge which was on a small mountain. From the ledge, we could see the entire forest stretch out so far that we couldn’t even come close to seeing the end of it. Then there were spots that were just cool like the cliffs which is pretty self explanatory from its name. My favorite place was what we called the old house.

The old house was an abandon house down a long driveway with many “No Trespassing” signs, but we had thought whatever the owner didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them. The house was a three story building that looked as if no one had lived there for probably around 50+ years. As you could imagine, the house was obviously decently decayed, and very neglected by wildlife and everyone that had been there. All the windows were busted out, parts of trees grew inside the house, the floor was broken in, parts of walls were missing showing the inside of the wall which most likely was filled with asbestos. The walls that weren’t broken in had graffiti covering almost every inch possible. The house’s obvious property was pretty big probably being a couple acres. Decently thick brush surrounded the yard and a side building that was presumably an out house. The house and it’s property also had an eerie feel to it, but what abandon house doesn’t?

Most of the time we would visit there during the day, but I personally thought the best time to go was at night. The rush I would get from this place past dark was unreal. Only people who have been in an abandon house in the middle of the forest over night would know what I mean. I had only done this a few times as I would go alone because Ralph would refuse to go there during the night.

One night, we were at the barn around 20:00 and I was trying really hard to convince him to come with me to the old house. Like always, he constantly said no. This ended up making me mad so I demanded him to tell why he wouldn’t come with me. He sighed and said “Well, this going to seem a little ridiculous, but I saw… something… in the forest by there.”

“Well what the hell does that have to do with anything?” I replied.

“I’m just worried that it would come to the house during the night.”

“That what would?”

He sighed and began to tell me what he saw.

Back when he was 9 or 10, him and his friend Carl wanted to find a spot where they could go to get away from both of their families. After a few weeks of exploring through the woods, they came across the old house, but in a slightly different state. Apparently, there were around 9 or 10 paths all around the house where the brush grew now.

Him and Carl would try to always explore one path every time they would go to the house until they ran out. This would allow them to have something new to do every time they visited. Some paths took a couple days as they would walk pretty slow at first absorbing the scenery of the forest and its inhabitants. When they would turn back, they would leave a marking in the ground or put a pile of sticks together and leave it at the furthest point they reached. The next time they would visit the old house they would quickly walk past everything they have already seen until they go to their “checkpoint”.

They never found anything interesting enough on these paths to actually keep, but a few weird things began happening. Oddly enough, it was only on the final three paths. Mostly the mysterious happenings effected the checkpoints.

The checkpoint at the first of the three was just a stack of sticks tied together by some long pieces of grass. Ralph and him came back the next day excited as they always were when they explored one of the paths. Eventually the checkpoint came to view, but it wasn’t how they left. The sticks were ripped in to pieces in a pile. This didn’t bother either of them though since they thought it was maybe a fox or another animal in the woods. Ralph said looking back now, it wasn’t possible for any animal to make those sticks look like that.

The second of the three checkpoints was four sticks jabbed into the ground in a square pattern. Carl was going to be out of the town for the next couple days so it was there for a few days. The day he came back, they both were happily went down the path. When they finally arrived to the checkpoint, there were 3 more squares of sticks in the ground next time the first one making a giants square of sticks. This made both of them a little uneasy, but they kept going down the path a little more hesitant. Nothing else out of the ordinary happened on the path.

They ended up exploring the last path all the way on the same day. Half of it was explored during the day in which they made a star in the ground with a stick. Both of them were very eager to finish this one therefore they made a plan. At exactly midnight, they would both sneak out of their houses and meet up at the old house. Carl was suppose to bring two flashlights while Ralph was going to bring two of his father’s pocket knives. Everything went exactly as planned. They met up and started going down the path.

Ralph and Carl quickly realized that the paths at night weren’t as appealing to the eye. In fact, most of it was straight up terrifying. Neither of them would end up saying anything about it because they both wanted to to be brave. When they finally reached the checkpoint, they shone their flashlights on it and what they saw would leave them breathless. Right next to the original star was another star that sloppily drawn. Ralph told that it resembled what you would think a two year old would draw for a star. The worst part was it was at least an inch deep and a half an inch in diameter.

At first, Carl wanted to turn around and go home, but Ralph convinced him not to. Ralph said that someone probably saw them leave the property of the old house after the sixth trail. That person then began to mess with their checkpoints in order to scare them off so they would stay off the property. Carl thought about Ralph’s theory and came to the conclusion he was probably right so they continued down to finish the path. Apparently this path was very long compared to the rest. The further and further they went down the path, the weirder things got. On some of the trees there were deep gashes almost splitting some of the trees in half and some of them were even knocked over. These sites became more and more common the deeper they went.

Then they reached a clearing in the shape of circle probably being about 100 yards across. There was no grass and no trees except one. It was in the middle of the glade and had a tower built into it. Eventually, they would name it the watch tower due to the structure of the building. The watch tower was very crudely built out of wood and being around 4 stories tall. On the bottom floor, there was a doorway which looked abnormally big. The second had a balcony above the door with no railing and it’s supports sticking in the ground. Next was the third floor which was pretty plain only having what appeared to be a window. Finally was the fourth floor. It was almost like a roof, but not quite. Presumably, there was either a ladder or stairs leading up there. It had almost a railing around the perimeter.

They didn’t notice the fourth floor at first because when they looked at it from an upward angle, it would appear as a flat roof. But that’s when they noticed it. There was a very tall humanoid creature standing on the top. This thing was looking in the opposite direction of Ralph and Carl and most of it features were impossible to see in the darkness. Both of them stood absolutely still staring at the creature for what felt like hours. Neither of them noticed how quiet the forest was until this point. In fact, it was so quiet that they both heard the ringing noise your brain makes up when there is no noise to hear.

After a few minutes, it began to move about the top of the watch tower. The creature reached it’s hand up into the air making a motion that looked as if it was stretching. What they saw would scar them forever. This thing had claws for fingers, but probably not the way you’re thinking of. The sharp part of the claws were where the back of your finger would be leaving the other side dull. They were also opposable and probably around 10 inches long. Ralph managed to hold back his scream, but Carl wasn’t so lucky.

The second Ralph heard a noise come from Carl’s mouth, he dived on him tackling him to the ground covering his mouth as they fell. Ralph looked Carl straight in the eyes and brought one finger up to his lips letting him know to not make a noise. When they finally looked back over at the creature he was looking directly at them. Both of their hearts stopped and they held their breath trying not to move a muscle. Fortunately for them, the darkness was the perfect camouflage leaving them invisible to the creature. It began looking around them frantically almost as if it was scanning the area to find where the noise had come from. That’s when they noticed a silhouette of the same thing standing in the third story window looking in their direction also.

Suddenly, the creature jumped from the roof making a loud bang and a cloud of dust rising from the ground. Ralph and Carl both looked at each other and knew exactly what they had to do, run. They both ran as fast as they ever have the way they came from hoping the creature didn’t see or hear them. After about 10 minutes, they finally came to a stop. Ralph almost collapsed, but thankfully Carl managed to catch him and softly lower him to the ground.

Both of them sat there in utter silence listening while trying to catch their breath. Neither of them heard a sound except for forest wildlife which had seem to return to the forest. After a few minutes, both of them just walked home not saying a word to each other.

I was speechless. Like who really would know what to say after hearing all that? Honestly, I thought it was all bullshit at first and responded with a really sarcastic comment about it being a nice story. But the look in his eyes after I said that convinced me other wise.

I asked him what happened to Carl and unfortunately, he moved across the country soon afterwards. Apparently they managed to stay friends for a couple years, but as time went on they lost contact.

We went to sleep after that, but I don’t really think either of us got much sleep. Neither of us talked to each other for a couple days, but then it went back to how it used to be. After a couple weeks I brought up the idea of going to the watchtower just so we can clear things up. Initially, he said no, but with a bit of convincing I got him up to a maybe. I said we would do it smart this time and bring a gun or two and maybe some knives. This made him feel better and agreed, but we have to bring a few more people. We both called some friends and planned it for the next weekend.
2
Sleep didn’t come easy over the next week. I had nightmares about the watch tower and those creatures. Most of the dreams have either been forgotten or my brain subconsciously blocked them. Though that was not the case for one of the horrid dreams.

I was one of them. I stood at the top of the watchtower looking out at the surrounding forest, hungry looking for anything that I could eat. Something moved in the woods and I quickly looked where it came from. Darkness plagued the forest making it very hard for my non human eyes to see. Maybe it moved I thought and began looking around the general area I heard it from. Nothing. I descended the ladder that was behind me.

I saw the silhouette of one of them standing staring out the window. This started to make me uneasy in my dream as I began to realize that what I was couldn’t be right. I kept going down the ladder and went past the second floor and then I reached the first floor. The weird part was, the ladder kept going down underground. Hesitantly I went down it into the complete darkness. I kept going down and down until I noticed a light coming from below. The light got closer and closer until it was right below me. As I was about to see what it was, I woke up in a cold sweat. Not feeling good, I walked to the bathroom and threw up.

A week had finally passed and we all met up at Ralphs house. I brought two of my friends, one was John who was a bodybuilder, and Austin who was just a very good friend of mine. Ralph only managed to get one of his friends to come. His name was Mark and he was a wrestler.

We each brought something that could possibly help us on the adventure into the unknown. John brought a backpack filled with water and food just incase we managed to get lost or if one of us was hungry/thirsty. Austin managed to take his dad’s .44 magnum with enough bullets to go through 5 magazines (not sure what they are really called on a magnum) Mark found an old machete in his garage a few months ago and with a little convincing, his parents agreed to let him have it, so of course he brought that. Ralph took his dad’s shotgun and had around 40 bullets for it minus what was already loaded into it. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to bring anything that could be of much use, but I brought a few pocket knives and for myself, a butterfly knife.

We left for the old house at about 8 in the morning. The only reason we left so early was we’d rather face these things during the day. As we got there we all immediately figured out our one flaw with this plan, the path didn’t exist anymore.

Fortunately, Mark had the machete so he began to cut his way through the brush. We were all worried the whole path would be covered in this brush, but it was only for about the first hundred or hundred and fifty feet. The strange part was that after it ended, there was none for the rest of the path. All there was grass nothing more, nothing less.

We had been walking for an hour when Austin started complaining. “This is pointless guys; we’re never gonna find anything!” he said rudely.

“Yes we will,” said Ralph.

“You sure this the right path, Ralph?” I asked, “I mean we haven’t really seen anything out of the ordinary yet.”

“I think it is.”

“You think!?” said John.

“Almost positive. The only way it wouldn’t be is if there was another path I didn’t see before”

While rolling his eyes, John said, “Well I think it’s about time we eat something.”

“I agree, I’m starving!” Replied Mark.

So we sat there and ate. While we were eating, I sat there absorbing the scenery. It was about noon so the sun was high up in the sky lighting up everything that wasn’t directly below the trees which wasn’t much. The light or should I say the lack of light allowed me to notice something odd.

On the side of a tree, a part was slightly bulging out. I walked closer towards it when it hit me:

“What the hell are you doing?” Asked Mark.

“Just come here guys.” I said back with a grim look on my face.

As they walked next to me, they noticed it too. On the tree was one of the claw marks Ralph had told me about. There were 4 total claws that caused it. Each mark was about an inch and a half or two inches deep while being about an inch across.

There was a long silence between all of us for a couple minutes as we all took in what we saw.

Austin finally broke the silence by saying, “Well I guess this is the right path.”

“Told ya,” said Ralph.

“I’m worried now,” John said.

“Don’t be. If we come across one of these fuckers I’ll blow it’s head.”

“But what if our guns and knives aren’t enough?”

“Well I highly doubt that, but I guess we would just run for our life.” replied Mark.

We continued down the path, but this time we had our weapons ready for anything. There was more and more scratch marks on the trees.

We all definitely felt the tension rising the further we walked through the path as all of us began to talk less. Occasionally I’d look over at my friends just to make sure they were okay and all of them minus Ralph had a look fear in their eyes. The look Ralph had was that of regret and terror.

After what felt like hours of walking, we noticed an opening far ahead. Although blurry, we could make out the watchtower.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” Ralph said with a hushed voice.

“What?” I asked him nervously.

“We gotta get out here NOW!”

“Why? What’s wrong?” asked Austin.

“The watchtower has at least doubled in size since I was last here.”

I started to step back towards Ralph when I heard a loud snap and suddenly I was stuck in a net. It began swinging violently and I hit my head on a tree and got knocked out.

————————————–

Slowly I started to become conscious. I opened my eyes and was blinded by light so I quickly closed them tightly shut. The light made me notice my horrific head ache. At this point I was still very disorientated so I wasn’t really worried. All the memories of what just happened began flooding back into my head. This made me not want to open my eyes. I was hoping maybe somehow my friends got me out of the trap and were just resting for a second so they lied me down, but the noises I began hearing made me realize that was not what happened at all.

It sounded almost like a voice but, it was very deep and malicious. Whatever it was, it wasn’t human and there was definitely at least three of them. They were having a conversation about who knows what. I could only assume it was about me which caused me to worry for my life and my friends life. At first I thought I should just keep my eyes closed and not move, but why stop the inevitable?

Once I opened my eyes, I noticed that the light shining on my face was coming from a very strange light. The light source was surrounded by some type of glass in the shape of a cube with little metal rods sticking out from each corner emitting a what I presumed was electricity into a glowing orb in the middle. Several of these hung from the unusually high ceiling throughout the room. About halfway across the room, a row of bars and a door came all the way across the room blocking me off from the other side of the room.

On my side, there wasn’t really much at all. In the corner of the room laid a blanket and what I assumed was suppose to be some sort of pillow made purely from cloth or something. The corner across from that one had a hole about a foot in diameter. It had to have been pretty deep too because you couldn’t see the bottom even with the light placed directly above it. At the center of my side was a huge pillar with some crazy type of writing wrapping around it from top to bottom.

The other side was very… weird. One of the corners was completely blocked off like it was an abnormally large cubicle. The other side had a couple of very big containers almost like an 8 foot filing cabinet except they only had a single drawer taking up where all the drawers would be. Along the back wall was a door except, it didn’t have a door knob. On the floor directly in front of the door was markings of what I assumed was another creatures footprints. Tubes hung from the ceiling in a very strange pattern.

I kept hearing the voices I had been hearing earlier from the general direction the cubicle was at. Slowly the voices were growing in volume, almost like there was some type of tension in that cubicle. The louder the voices grew, the more malign they sounded. Eventually it was almost like the creatures were having a full out argument; they were what seemed to be yelling, occasionally stomping on the ground.

The stomping was nerve wrecking at the least. Every time they’d stomp it would shake the entire room meaning the creature itself had to have been large. Very large.

They kept arguing, getting louder and louder for what felt like hours until one of them finally left the cubicle. I wanted to vomit the second we met eyes.

The creature was horrific; it was about 8 feet tall, very muscular and looked like a humanoid. This things skin looked thick, almost like leather minus the brown color. Instead it was a sort of a darker pink, but not quite red. One of the creatures leg would be as thick as a car tire and about four to four and a half feet long. The feet looked almost human, but very large and instead of toes, it had small versions of the claws described in Ralph’s story. It’s torso was abnormally small compared to the rest of it body, but it still remained one of the most muscular parts of its body. His arms were long, hanging down to about its knees, but the worse part was the dreaded claws it had instead of fingers. They were just like Ralph described except I could clearly see that they were a whitish yellow, almost like teeth meaning they were most likely bone instead of whatever nails are made from.

The face was the thing that stood out the most. Honestly, it still gives me nightmares today.. Anyways, it’s head was very proportionate to the rest of its body, just like a humans. hung out of the edge of its mouth being significantly longer than the rest of its fangs which might I add it had several rows of fangs. The tongue was like a humans except completely flat. There wasn’t a nose, instead holes for nostrils much like a snake. No ears existed either; just holes like the nose except it had some type of filter covering the ear most likely blocking things from crawling in there. The hair was possibly the strangest part, it looked almost like rope hanging from its head except you could tell each “rope” was a single piece of hair. Before I noticed any of those features though, I noticed it’s dreaded eyes.

Where the white is in our eyes was black in this things eyes. The black took up a majority of its eyes with a white iris that took up a space as thin as pencil lead. Red pupils were in the center of the eye. Anyways I ended up calling these things wolverines because of their claws.

After I threw up, I looked up at the wolverine as he looked back at me. A smile grew across his face which sent a shiver down my spine. It stopped in its path and we just stared at each other for probably about five minutes when he turned around. The wolverine quickly ran back into the cubicle. I heard the voices again until three wolverines walked from behind the cubicle.

All of them stared at me with the same disturbing smile. Eventually one said something while staring at me. At first, I wasn’t too sure who it was talking to, but it became obvious he was talking to me as he began saying the same phrase three or four times. Not sure what to do, I replied with the simple phrase of I don’t understand what your saying.

It quickly frowned and began walking towards the door. The wolverine stood where the foot prints were when they slightly moved down. The door flew open and then all three wolverines walked out.

For the next few hours, I was in there alone. At first I quickly began looking around for an exit but, came to no avail. I gave up and just began thinking about Ralph, Austin, John, and Mark. What happened to them? Were they okay? Did all of them get stuck in the trap? Who got away? Are they even still alive?

All these thoughts started becoming too much and I honestly started to cry. Hard. I probably cried for about thirty minutes when I started thinking again. At the time I thought what’s the point in crying? I mean it’s not gonna get me anywhere and all it’s gonna do is dehydrate me. And what if they don’t give me water? It will only make the inevitable come so much quicker then I wanted.

After a few hours had passed, a couple wolverines came back except it brought a table with straps where my feet and hands would be. They opened the door in the middle of the room as I groaned waiting for my fate. It picked me up with what felt like actual care, almost like a mom picking up its baby. This made me very confused at first until I figured out they were treating me like a piece of evidence; with care to try and not alter me.

I was lied down on the table and was strapped in. One of them opened the door while the other pushed me. We went through a very weird hallway that looked like something like a hallway in an asylum and ended up in a room I could only call an operating room.

For a couple minutes, the two wolverines talked. After they finished, they began making marks all over my body where I presumed they were going to cut open. The wolverine grabbed a knife and made an insertion in my forehead and my right arm. I guess the other wolverine called him as he put the knife down next to my right hand. This was my chance, my chance to escape, to get away. I quickly began looking around for an exit. At first, I couldn’t find anyway out as I knew the door wouldn’t work for me but, thats when I noticed another hole in the corner of the room except it was slightly bigger than the one in my cell.

I grabbed the knife and quickly began cutting the restraint on my right hand. While I was cutting it I kept looking up to make sure they weren’t paying attention and fortunately they weren’t. The first restraint took the longest to cut, but the rest only took a second. I was free, well from the restraints at least. As quietly as I could, I got up and was crawling towards the hole when I heard it scream.

For a second, I thought I went deaf. How incredibly loud that scream was. This disorientated me to the point of me not being able to move. I quickly managed to compose myself together while one was beginning to run towards me. I couldn’t make a run for the hole because before I’d reach it, the wolverine would get me. At this point I still had the knife so I did the only thing I could think of. I threw it straight at the wolverine hitting it in the head. The knife itself was very sharp, but due to the creatures thick skin it only went in about an eighth of an inch. Fortunately, this was enough to stun the beast for a split second. I quickly turned around, got to the hole and jumped down.

I could barely fit in the hole so as I fell I constantly hit the walls. I only fell about 50 feet or so until I hit water or some type of liquid. For some reason, it had a very strong current though so it dragged me right along with it. The water was only a few feet deep which most likely saved me from drowning. After about 15 minutes or so I saw light from the way I was going.

Happiness overwhelmed me the closer and closer I got. Finally I got out of the cave or whatever I was in and was in sunlight. I quickly got out of the water on the side of the river and lied down absorbing all the sunlight I could. I actually ended up falling in a deep sleep right there on the shore.
______________________________________

I was in my bed, nice and warm. Feeling pretty content, I got up and went to shower. Hot water poured all over my body, cleansing every pore in my body. The kitchen was right above the bathroom so I could always smell what was being made. My mom this morning was making eggs and bacon so you know what my bathroom smelt like. I got out of the shower, dried myself off, got dressed, and went up stairs for an amazing breakfast.

That morning we had a family breakfast, something we never usually do. My dad told elaborate stories about his childhood memories which would bring joy and light to each person in my family. My mom would talk about her job and getting a raise which would mean things were going to change around here, for the better. My sister talked about how she met this amazing guy and how she thought he might actually be “the one”. I rolled my eyes at this and laughed as I washed my plate clean.

All of the sudden, I heard glass breaking coming from the basement. My dad said as quietly and frantically as he could, “Go upstairs, lock yourselves in your room and don’t make a noise.” All of us did exactly as he said except I went a little further and hid inside my closet. I sat there for what like hours and listened as closely as I could to try and here what was happening downstairs. All I could hear was banging which filled me with fear.

Something was starting to come up stairs and it sounded bigger than my dad. I held my breath and got in the fetal position as it started to walk towards my room. Whatever it was, it sounded like it had taken my door clean off the hinges. It walked towards my closet and opened the door. Looking right at me was a wolverine with a huge smile on its face. The monster picked me up and threw me towards the wall. Thats when I woke up.

When you first wake up, you’re usually really dazed and disoriented especially after a dream. Well that’s what I was like as I was flying through the air. I didn’t really understand what was going on until I hit the tree. The second I hit the tree was the second collapsed. I spit up a shit ton of blood and looked up. Staring straight at me was a wolverine about 30 feet away with the same grin on his face as the one in the dream.

At this point my adrenaline began rushing, but it wasn’t too much help as I couldn’t even really stand. The creature slowly began walking towards me making the noise that I could only describe as laughter. I began looking around frantically trying to find someway to get out of there when I noticed the river about 5 feet away from me. I quickly rolled in to it as the current took me with it.

As I began going down the river I saw the creature quickly jump into it trying to chase after me. I tried to swim with the current to make me a little bit faster, but it never helped much. The further and further down the river I went the closer the beast got to me. At one point, it swung its claw towards me but missed. While it’s claw was right by my leg, I quickly used all the strength in my body to force myself further away. Let’s just say it didn’t really work. Somehow, he countered it grabbing my ankle and flinging me into the air further down the river which I noticed turned into a lake.

I crashed down in shallow water on the opposite side of where the river came out at. I knew this was the end of me, both my legs had to be broken at this point and same with my arms. The creature got dumped out into the lake, but something surprising happened.

The creature flailed its arms in every direction, filling the air with that dreaded scream. I was very confused about what was happening at first, but then it hit me like a ton of bricks. It can’t swim! It was drowning in the deep part of the water! I was filled with relief until I lost consciousness most likely due to blood loss.

________________________________________________________________

I slowly opened my eyes and realized I was in a hospital bed. Looking down at my body, I noticed I was almost completely covered in bandages while both my legs and one of my arms were in casts. My mom was sleeping on a chair they had placed next to my bed. I smiled and said her name probably about five times until she woke up. I don’t think I’ve ever seen my mom cry so hard or heard her scream so loud.

Police questioned me over the next few days about what had happened. I didn’t really know what to say so I made up a story about how me and a friend went exploring down the river when I fell in, hit my head, and passed out in the river. Next they asked which friend and I said Carl. Apparently, Carl had been missing for a couple days now, way before I “passed out” in the river. I became a main suspect in his disappearance, but there was a lack of evidence to actually convict me.

Recovery would take me years to become a fully operable human being again. In fact, they actually had to replace a few bones in my legs to get them to work like normal.

One thing to this day still makes me very curious. What happened to Austin, Mark and John? Did they go crazy? Maybe they just kept quiet about it? Or did they even get captured too? Honestly, who knows, but I can only assume they were probably captured too.

Whenever you’re in a forest and see a strange structure that doesn’t look quite so normal, PLEASE get out of there. The wolverines are probably there and they have no mercy. They are way more powerful than us humans. If for some reason you do come across one of them though, find some near by deep water and jump right in. Don’t worry, you can swim and they can’t. Well that is unless they’ve learned how to swim since then.

Credit To – Doctor Slim

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Missing Teeth

April 7, 2014 at 12:00 AM
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When I woke up in the morning, I knew something was off. It wasn’t until after my morning shower and shave that I figured it out. Not until my toothbrush slipped into a new gap in my smile. I froze, bristles bridging the gap, as I tried to understand what happened. Slowly, I removed the toothbrush from my mouth and stared in the mirror as I pulled my lips back, part smile, mostly grimace.

There it was, under my whitewashed paste smeared lips and set in the sudsy white teeth was a little black window.. Upper set, one of the front ones. I’m not a particularly vain person, but this was upsetting. Missing teeth were for yokels, the homeless, people who got into fistfights over sports. I wear a suit, I go to meetings, I have a secretary. Now, here I was, looking like I was dirt.

What made this deterioration worse was that just a few weeks ago, I had noticed my hair was thinning. Now this. My anxiety flared and my mind exploded with reasons why my tooth could have fallen out. Was it because I only brushed my teeth once a day on the weekends? Or was it something with my gums? I went through the day with my upper lip curled over my teeth and my mind filled with every possible reason why my tooth was gone. My secretary scheduled a dentist’s appointment for me later in the week. I didn’t tell her why.

The next morning, I was missing another one. Bottom, towards the back. No blood, no pain. There was a hole, I couldn’t keep my tongue out of it, but that was it. Physically, at least. On the inside, I felt a constant, claustrophobic panic. At home, every couple of minutes, I would tear off my sheets or get down on all fours, spreading out like a stretching dog, fingers splayed, praying that some part of me would touch these lost teeth. They had to be somewhere. Maybe the dentist could put them back in.

On the third day, my front three teeth on the top and bottom with gone. I almost cried. I was single and all I could think about was how no woman would want someone with such a fucked up mouth. Every few minutes I reached into my mouth to push and pull on my teeth to see if they were loose. That is until I began to the worry that I was making them loose with all the tugging. I didn’t go to work, I just called my dentist a half dozen times, trying to get him to see me as soon as possible.

The anxiety burned me out. So, after I carefully brushed my teeth, I went to bed early. I don’t know when I woke up, but when I did I saw him. I don’t know why I didn’t scream or jump back against the headboard. Somehow, I just stayed still and watched him through slivers of open eyes. In the dark I could just barely see the outline of his hunched back. His face was pale and waxy, his thin, round glasses caught the little bit of streetlight that came through my window. When he put his hand in my mouth, I tasted leather. Short, fat fingers pinched one of my teeth. I felt a quick, sharp slice into my gum and then just a gap where my tooth was. He took four more, then creeped out of my room. The floorboards didn’t squeak and my door hinge didn’t whine as he closed it. I didn’t even hear the front door open and close. All I heard was a car starting and pulling out of my driveway.

I didn’t go anywhere the next day. My dentist’s office called, but I didn’t answer my phone or listen to their voicemail. I didn’t move out of my bed. The hunger didn’t bother me. I had fewer teeth than a Jack O’Lantern and I couldn’t imagine trying to chew with my asymmetrical maw. My mouth was dry, but when I thought about water I thought about floods and mudslides washing away hills and houses and gums and teeth sliding down the back of my throat on a wave.

I couldn’t call the police. “A man is stealing my teeth at night,” might as well be the password for a mental asylum. Instead, I tried to fight sleep. Every light was turned on, every TV on its loudest setting, my stereo cranked to its limit.

When I woke up, it was in the silent dark and he was there.

He took three more that night. When he left, I followed. Where I walked, floorboards squeaked and hinges whined, but he didn’t look back. I saw his car, some old steel boat with fins and white walls. After he pulled out, I ran to my car and went after him. He had to know I was behind him. I kept my distance, because that’s what spies and detectives do in movies, but at this time of night we were the only two cars on the road. And, I realized, he’s seen my car before.

We headed for the boondocks, rural roads I’d never been on. They were dark and narrow, turning back and forth, rising up into fog, then dipping down again. Trees flanked us. No moon or stars, just headlights that shined on the reflective markers on the guardrail. I didn’t know what time we started, but it felt like we’d been driving for hours. Maybe he was trying to lose me, but… I hadn’t seen any other roads.

Finally, after a long, curving ride up and then down a mountain, I started to see familiar roads. This guy was fucking with me. All we did was go in a big circle. These were the streets that took us out into the backwoods. The exact streets.

We were going back to my house.

But it wasn’t my house. It looked like my house, but at my house the mailbox is to the right of the driveway. Here, it’s to the left. And in the yard was the birch tree I had cut down two years ago.

He parked his car and walked inside. I followed right behind. I knew where he was going and how to get there. The layout was the same as my house. Only the furniture was in different places. I walked back to my bedroom and pushed the door open with my fingertips. He had turned on a small lamp on the nightstand (mine had three drawers, this had two) and he was already at work.

In my bed, under the covers, was a lump of flesh. Someone, maybe the man, had sculpted crude arms and a neck and a soft, dented jawline. On the top of its head was an uneven, sparse tuft of hair. Brown. Same shade as mine. Two small holes for a nose, angular divots where the eyes should be. The sheets rose and fell with shallow breath. I watched him open up the lump’s lipless ovoid mouth and with crafter’s precision carefully set my teeth into its gums. After they were in, he grabbed them, wiggled them, tugged on them. They wouldn’t budge.

Slowly, he turned from his work and looked at me. His face was yellow in the dim lamplight. The eyes behind the glasses were little more than pinpricks of pupil. Over his shoulder, the lump stirred. It struggled to breathe, each exhale was a muffled internal scream. It tried to rise, tried to push itself up with boneless, flipper-like hands, but they just smashed useless against the mattress. The groaning breaths became more frustrated and angry as it struggled to prop itself up. When the lump finally shimmied itself against the head board, it joined the man in staring at me and I stared back. First into its empty sockets the same dull, slimy pink as a newborn baby.

The room was getting smaller. The bulb in the bedside lamp explodes and the only light comes from the man’s tiny eyes. Thin bolts of blazing yellow that cut right through the pitch dark of the room, illuminating little island of his sickly flesh. The pupils spread, the light widened, revealing more and more of his face. His mouth was opened. Wide. Unhinged. All I could see was teeth, sloppily spiraling around the inside of his mouth until they disappeared into the dark of his throat. All I heard was the struggling breaths of the lump, now lound as thunder, but still maintaining that muffled quality. My eyes traced the spiral of teeth, straining to follow them into the cavernous black esophagous. I fell in and rode the spiral down.

I woke up in my house. My real house. It was a few more nights before all my teeth were gone. Then I started to lose my fingernails and toenails. Last night, he took my lips. Now, there’s just a gaping black hole in my face.

I don’t know what he’ll take next, but I saw myself half-formed in that bed. I know there’s a lot of work to be done.

Credit To – ImGonnaBeThatGuy

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Lake Erie

April 6, 2014 at 12:00 AM
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Cryptozoology: the study of organic life whose existence has not yet been proven.

Gibraltar Island, 2007
Two men had planned a diving trip into Lake Erie to study the effects of the pollution on the walleye and common carp in the area. These fish were the biggest product for fresh water commercial fishermen and the Department of Health had given them this assignment. Dr. Clive Brown and Christopher Trudeau had started their dive off the northern docks on Gibraltar Island, located in the southwestern section of Lake Erie. The dive was scheduled to last an hour, but the police dispatched a rescue boat after the men had been missing for five hours. After an extensive search, they found Dr. Clive brown floating face up, he was still alive. When they pulled him onto the boat they cut his diving suit and mask from him and began to administer CPR. Dr. Brown violently regained consciousness, spitting water and seizing. He grabbed the first medic he could and began screaming that his partner was dead and to get the boat off the lake. He wouldn’t stop screaming until the boat reached dry land. They took him to the closest hospital on the mainland in Ohio, and police began to question him. When he was able to stay awake, they asked him what happened and where his partner was. He couldn’t stave off the shock very long; he would slip in and out of consciousness and had a hard time speaking about the events that occurred at the bottom on Lake Erie. The investigators tried to charge him with murder and withholding evidence, but nothing stuck. Without any remains of Mr. Trudeau they didn’t have sufficient proof that it wasn’t anything more than a simple drowning. Dr. Brown would not speak of the incident.
2013
Six years after the disappearance of Christopher Trudeau, an article appeared in a supermarket tabloid. The magazine was never meant to be taken seriously. This was the kind of reading material that claimed aliens were at the crucifixion of Christ, or a two thousand year old bat boy was found in the Middle East. The only reason the article caught my attention was the author’s name: Clive Brown. The article was about the two colleges’ dive into Lake Erie, and what happened down there. After reading the heavily edited garbage I decided to track him down and speak to the man myself, “the horse’s mouth” and all that.
I finally tracked down Dr. Clive Brown and asked him to speak on these events. He reluctantly agreed after a very long plea, and a hefty fee considering my salary. The following is his unedited record of the events that took place that day in Lake Erie.

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“Lake Erie is one of the five Great Lakes. It borders Michigan, Ohio, Pennsylvania, New York, and Canada. It has had a pollution problem since the 1970’s because of all the factories and mills that are placed too close to the lake, releasing record levels of pollution. On some days the pollution gets so bad, people have reported seeing a mirror sheen on the lakes surface, along with a mixture of discolored algae and dead fish. The tests were going fine; we had collected all the samples we needed and even had time to catch the scenery. Everyone says Lake Erie is nasty, full of pollution, but man when you are down near the bottom; it’s as beautiful as the Caribbean. We were about to finish when I thought I had my ankle wrapped in seaweed. I pulled a knife from a sheath on my hip to cut the weed when I noticed through the fog my breath had created in my dive mask, my partner was violently flailing. I saw what looked like light pink ropes with the thickness of a human leg wrapped around Christopher’s legs and neck. He was trying to free his neck when the bonds began to slowly pull him down. I looked at my ankle and saw that it wasn’t seaweed that had taken hold of me; it was the same light pink rope like thing that had ensnared my partner. I slashed at it with my knife, over and over, as hard as I could; consider the resistance of being under water, until the elastic rope snapped. Blood spewed into the water from the sliced pieces and I heard this deep groan underneath me. Now look, there are some things in this world that will make people shit their pants just thinking about it, and I’m telling you, that sound is something that will haunt me forever. The groan echoed through the water, almost like sonar. I could see my partner still being dragged down by three different pink ropes, the further down they dragged him, the greater the angle between the ropes became, and then they stopped. I swam down against the pressure as hard as I could to save my long time colleague and friend. When I reached Christopher I pulled out my knife with the purpose of freeing him, but it seemed neither of us could stop panicking. Christopher’s entire body was thrashing with fear, and I had far from steady hands. The ropes were at an impasse, each one wanted to pull him in its own direction. They let Christopher hang there a moment; he was thrashing and flailing like a toddler throwing a fit, still attempting to free himself. He abruptly stopped moving, it was like he had just figured out how screwed he was. Time stopped, and I just stared at Christopher’s face through my dive mask, his eyes were slowly widening. I could hear my heartbeat, and the world was still. After what had seemed like a lifetime had passed, the soft pink ropes pulled the body part that it was attached to in a separate direction. One took Christopher’s left leg, another took his right leg, groin, and midsection, and the third one took his damn head, chest, and arms. There was so much blood; it was like a squid had spewed red ink right in front of me. I remember after it was all done, thinking of how quickly I accepted that Chris was dead, and just wondering what the hell I was going to do next.”

He pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his shirt’s front pocket, lit one, took a puff, and looked down to the floor for a moment.

“I never really cried over his death, I never even made it to his funeral. Every time I think about what happened, I just get so afraid that I can’t…..”

He paused for a moment, and then continued.

“I had underwater flares for lighting and pulled one out of my equipment bag. I struck the flare and dropped it. It sank down and lit up a section of the lake bed. I swear to God, from the time that flare left my hand and fell to the bottom of that lake, my life has never changed more drastically. I saw four of them, large dark green and brown colored figures, they were frogs! There were four frogs the size of Goddamn box trucks sitting at the bottom of the lake, with Christopher’s limbs still hanging out of three of their mouths. They chewed on him, staring at me the entire time, like they just wanted to swallow so they could come after me. Their eyes were fixated on me; I was lost in a trance. It was like a dream, I knew I had to get away but it was like my brain couldn’t send the proper signals to my muscles to move. Then I heard it again, that deep, echoing, chest rumbling groan. The neck of the only one who wasn’t eating inflated. It looked like a freaking hot air balloon. Then it was like someone in my mind screamed at me, MOVE YOU IDOT! I started to swim to the top of the water as fast as I could, another deep groan echoed from underneath me. I had considered if it was a reaction to the pain I had caused one of the creatures with my blade, or from the rage it was expressing as its prey was escaping, it didn’t matter.
A fly, I had been reduced to nothing more than the equivalent of a simple house fly, I was feeling true and absolute helplessness. One of the tongues grabbed my oxygen tank and knocked the hoses loose. I lost consciousness soon after, due to either the sudden pressure change, or the reality of what I had just seen, I wasn’t sure. You know the rest, by some miracle they found me. I was half dead and everyone assumed I was absolutely insane. You know how they say when a veteran who’s seen combat will come home and freak out over a loud noise, like a window being shut to hard or something like that?”
“Post traumatic stress disorder.”
“Exactly, PTSD is the only souvenir I got from that diving trip, now I am terrified to be submerged in any amount of water. I literally cannot take a bath without having a panic attack. I have to shower with the curtain open. Does this sound like a problem that a normal functioning adult should have? But hey I’m alive, which is a hell of a lot more that anyone can say for Chris, right?”
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I stood up, shook Dr. Brown’s hand, and thanked him for his hospitality and testimony.

“What are you going to do now?” He asked.

“I just want to share your story with anyone willing to listen.” I told him

“Good, I just hope this doesn’t end up in another one of those God awful supermarket tabloids.” He said.

I smiled, shook his hand again, and we parted ways.

Credit To – Killbo Fraggins

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Noises

April 2, 2014 at 12:00 AM
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David Andrew Kinyon had a problem. He was nine years old, and still only four feet tall, making him shorter than all the boys, and even some of the girls in his class, a mortifying fact that he preferred to never speak of. David Andrew Kinyon also had a far more pressing and persistent issue. He suffered from a remarkably skittish personality, and even the simplest prank scares could easily reduce him to tears. Despite this unfortunate temperament, David had the unhealthy habit of reading stories that would scare him out of his wits; the strange thing was, he couldn’t seem to stop reading them. The idea of the unknown fascinated him, and he was filled with the wonder that only a child could experience about how much we really knew about the world around us, and what ghastly creatures might watch us while we sleep.

That fascination melted away completely when David had to climb into bed and turn off his night light, plunging himself into darkness, alone. When David found himself staring wide-eyed into the darkness, he could feel his heart pound faster and his breath catch on its way up his throat. Most of the time he would be able to quiet his fears, and simply huddle into the safety of his blankets until sleep claimed him; he would awake the next day refreshed and completely unscathed, and proceed to laugh at himself for his fears.

Yet there were still the times when David Andrew Kinyon was unable to fall asleep, and as he continued to stare into the darkness of his room, pure, undiluted fear would begin to run through his veins as he tried to identify shapes in the dark that didn’t seem to belong in his room. All the monsters he had ever read about would run through his brain and leer at him from different corners of his room. Those nights were the worst, when he was forced to endure the late night terrors on his own, too proud to cry out for his mother, who would simply turn on the light and enfold him in her warm, loving arms. Those were the nights when David found himself trapped between the exhaustion that begged him to sleep, and the fear that kept him awake better than any form of caffeine ever could.

Tonight was one of those nights. The moment David turned on his side after what had felt like an eternity of trying to fall asleep and saw that it was already 11:00 p.m., he knew that it was going to be a long and scary night. It didn’t help that he had to wake up for school the next day. He tried to listen to the sound of the washing machine and using it to help lull him to sleep, and it proved effective until he became irritated by the clicking noises that occasionally issued from it. His heightened awareness of the washing machine became a nuisance, and he frowned in annoyance. The blankets draped over his body began to feel too hot, and David considered kicking them off to assist him in falling asleep more quickly. Yet with his entire body exposed to the darkness of his room, David found himself feeling deeply unnerved and vulnerable to the malevolent forces that could be waiting right by his bed. Quickly he pulled the covers over himself again, as if worried some entity under his bed may have taken advantage of the moment to pull the blankets away from him. He swathed his body in the blankets, forming a makeshift cocoon, all thoughts of discomfort fleeing from his mind. The warmth and the almost peaceful silence began to comfort him, and David found himself finally drifting off into merciful sleep.
Suddenly, a noise sounded from within his walls that made his blood turn to ice.

A clicking, rhythmic tapping noise. This was no mere settling of the house, and no figment of David Andrew Kinyon’s imagination would be able to invoke the fear that caused his entire body to become paralyzed by fear as the magnitude of something unexplainable and dangerous being in such close proximity to his little nine-year-old self hit him. David did what any normal child would; he cried out for his mother. However, terror had stolen his voice away, and the only thing he could manage was a faint squeak that quickly dissipated into inky blackness around him. The noise continued, and David curled himself into a ball, trying to make himself as small as possible. Tears leaked out of his eyes as he realized he was absolutely defenseless, and he prayed to God that all this was nothing more than an extremely vivid dream that he would wake up from in no time.

As abruptly as they had begun, the noises stopped. David Andrew Kinyon let out a quiet sigh. In the silence, he could hear the washing machine again, churning through his clothes. Yet David remained afraid, taking in rapid, shallow breaths, worried that something might be trying to hear him. He cast a terrified look at the wall behind him, the source of the sound. He had to make sure that this was just his imagination, and the only way he would be able to prove it was by knocking back. So he took a deep breath, rapped his knuckles on the wall, and waited.

There was a second of silence, and then the clicking, tapping noise began anew. Fear shot through little David’s veins; something was inside his walls.

David Andrew Kinyon lay in bed, frozen by fear. The realization that he could nothing to escape this creature was crushing, but his fear of death and his desperation screamed at him to do something to live. David fell completely silent, praying that if the thing thought he had fallen asleep, it would leave him alone. He could not move; he could not scream; the only thing he could do was remain absolutely, completely still.

Yet the tapping noise continued, apparently uncaring of the circumstances beyond the walls. David’s eyebrows contracted, and he frowned. Surely an intelligent creature would have stopped by now, realizing that it had done enough to terrify its victim. Cautiously, he rapped on the wall again, yet the clicking showed no signs of ceasing.
Suddenly, the washing machine stopped, and with it stopped that terrible noise.
David Andrew Kinyon nearly cried in relief; it had been his washing machine all along! The noises were the sounds of water dripping from a potentially leaky pipe located in his wall. Sighing in relief, David contentedly snuggled down into his blankets and prepared to enjoy what was a well-deserved good night’s sleep.

When the tapping sounded up again, David managed to ignore it at first. He assumed it was the washing machine making its last run. It was nothing to worry about.
Suddenly, David Andrew Kinyon’s eyes snapped open.
The washing machine had long ago ceased.
David’s mind screamed at him IMPOSSIBLE
“There’s no such thing as monsters, there’s no such thing as monsters… ” David repeated frantically to himself; tears streamed down his cheeks as the tapping noise traveled from behind his wall to, somehow inexplicably, below his bed. Admitting defeat, David balled his blankets around him and began to sob in despair as the tapping traveled closer and closer to the edge of his bed.

A thin, emaciated hand with impossibly long nails gently, almost lovingly, peeled away the blankets, and David Andrew Kinyon finally found his voice to scream.

Credit To – Nini Li

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