The Door Game

September 1, 2015 at 12:00 PM
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“Yo, James hurry your ass up!” Damon roared from across the parking lot, standing next to our limo and waving me and Becca down. I quickly stole a kiss with Her before taking her hand and jogging toward the limo with her. We werent in there for more than a moment before our other friend Felix shoved a flask of Jack Daniel’s in our face.

“I made sure to get one for each couple,” He winked at me with a huge grin, “It isnt prom night without Sir Daniels!” we all burst out laughing. I took a swig from the flask before passing it over to Becca, and shifted my gaze to my childhood friends. There were eight of us total and we had all been friends since grade school and couples since late middle school. The gang consisted of Jamal, Krisie, Pat, Jade, Felix and Dayna, Becca and I, and boy were we an interesting bunch.

“So whose place are we exactly going to again?” I asked, as Becca leaned her head on my shoulder.

“The new guy, uh…,” Pat started, but Jade finished for him, “Dale Seer, he just moved here from New Jersey.”

“Yeah that guy!” Pat smiled, as Jade rolled her eyes at him.

Just then the limo driver swore loudly just before veering wildly to the left and right just narrowly avoiding a car driving down the opposite side of the road, leaving us all in a tangled laughing heap in the center of the vehicle. Normally we probably would have freaked out but with the amount of alcohol we had consumed at the time we probably could have wrecked and thought it humorous. We continued to talk about the events of everything that had gone on our senior year, and before we knew it we had reached our destination.

“Alrighty kiddos, I will be here bright and early to pick you up at eight, so don’t be late ya’ hear?” We all nodded in agreement to the limo driver, but as the others turned away from him I noticed his expression had become grim and he motioned me to come closer. “It’s not your time.” He muttered, before driving off. I just stared after the car confused by his choice of words. What did he mean by that exactly, and what was his deal? I just shrugged it off and went to join my friends who were all standing in front of a small eerie looking home.

The house was a light yellow and with as much chipped paint as there was it gave the home a weird poke-a-dotted look. The home almost reminded me of the Amityville horror house, with the dirt coated attic window, a rickety old fashioned porch and the occasional missing shutter. Yep this sure was where I wanted to spend the rest of my prom night.

“Wow, this Dale guy seems like a real winner.” Krissie stated sarcastically.
“Come on guys let’s just give this Dale guy a shot, I’m sure he is a nice guy!” Becca pleaded with us. She had been that way as long as I could remember. Always giving people the benefit of the doubt, and being optimistic about any situation, and that is why I loved her so much. Not only was she the most beautiful girl in school she was also the least selfish and shallow person you would ever meet. I can still remember the first time we met on the school playground. I was and still am one of the nerdish guys you would ever meet, and ironically I was being picked on by Pat when she stood up for me, and ever since then I could never get over how strong she was. Those piercing blue eyes and her dark brown hair still till this day take my breath away every time I see her.

“Ok.” We all uttered in unison, pick up our bags and making our way into the home.

Pat rushed passed everyone throwing his bag onto the floor of the entry way. Despite the outside of the home the inside wasn’t all that bad looking. The entry way was rather large, with five different doorways. The one to the left lead to a rather larger living room with a fire place, the second to our right lead to the kitchen. Two others were at the top of a flight of stairs on either side of the landing, and right on the wall at the center of the two was a large poster. The last one was dead ahead of where pat had gone through.
“Yo Dale, where you at bro.” I called out into the seemingly empty home. Everyone dropped their bags in the same spot as Pat and we got no answer.
“Maybe everyone got stuck in traffic on their way here.” Dayna suggested, shrugging her shoulders.

“Hey guys check this out!” Pat called out from the doorway in front of us. We all walked over to see a strangely large room for the size of the home and right in the center were two rows of four beds, one for each of us. Now that is creepy I thought to myself.

“Okay this is pretty weird, I thought there was suppose to be party here.” Pat pouted.

“Well, maybe there are more beds upstairs,” I stated turning to enter the entry room, and freezing after taking two steps out the doorway. I stared in horror and confusion at the sight before me, “uh guys, I think we have a problem.” I stammered while pointing to where the front door used to be. Everyone turned to see what I was pointing at, their jaws dropping in unison once they realized what had happened… the front door had disappeared leaving a wall in its place.

“That’s fucked up!” Pat chuckled.

“It’s not funny, how are we supposed to leave now?” Krissie shouted at pat, which then caused a chain of arguments amongst everyone trying to figure out what to do. As they all bickered I walked around hoping to figure out what exactly was going on. That’s when I noticed a small red arrow pointing up the stairway to the poster on the wall. I quickly walked up the stairs to the poster and began to read:

Game Rules:
Note: The game starts once the first door is opened
Rule #1- Once you open one door another random door will appear.
Rule #2- Once you open a door another door will disappear and so will everything behind it.
Rule #3- You have exactly 10 minutes to open a door, if you don’t a door will automatically disappear, along with another once you open a door.
Rule #4- Every 5 minutes I will come to find you, and the first person I find or isn’t hidden well enough to my liking I will give you five seconds then chase you.
Rule #5- If I catch you, you join me/us.
Rule #6- The game ends at day break.

Note: First door opened at 9:35pm. I will see one of you around 9:45.
Good Luck!

As soon as I finished reading the “game rules” I looked down at my phone to verify the time. It was 9:40.

“Uh… Guys,” I shouted down the stairs, “I think you may want to come see this!” within seconds they were all at the top of the stairs reading what I had just read.

“This is a bunch of bull crap!” Pat boomed after reading the poster.
“I agree,” Jade nodded, “This is obviously a joke by Dane or Dale or whatever his name is.”

“Plus this alcohol is making me sleeping, so I am going to take a nap with my chica Jade here. So smell you guys later!” he bellowed as he made his way down the stairs with Jade to the bedroom. I just sighed.

“I just feel like whatever is going on here it shouldn’t be taken lightly.” I said, meeting everyone’s fearful gazes. They all nodded in agreement.
“So how much longer do we have left?” Felix asked.

“Three minutes to go,” Becca uttered loudly, “We should come up with a plan after we hide.”

“Definitely a good idea, we will meet here before we open up any doors.” Jamal stated. As everyone spread out to hide I grabbed Becca and kissed her.
“No matter what happens I want you to know I will always protect you.” I said staring deep into her amazing blue eyes. She looked at me and got teary eyed.
“I know, you already have.” She muttered as she gave me a small smile and went to go hide.

I just stared after her for a moment, confused by the reaction she had given me. What did she mean by I already have? I looked down at my phone and saw I only had a minute left so I quickly ran and hid on the windowsill, which was rather large and shut the curtains in front of me. To be honest it felt kind of stupid to be hiding. For all we knew Dale could be messing with us and videotaping this whole thing to see if we would actually do what the poster said. I looked down at my phone. It was 9:46pm, and nothing had happened.

I sighed and was just about to leave my spot when I heard a whisper of a man counting down from five. Five, four, three, two, one… There was then a sound like one of the beds being dragged across the floor and a loud thud, followed by an ear piercing scream from Jade. I quickly jumped out of my hiding spot and turned towards the open doorway in front of me to see Dayna, Becca, Jamal, Felix, and Krissie grouped in the entry way. As I made my way to them the guys covered the girls eyes, and when I rounded the corner I saw why. Starting from the bedroom and making its way up the stairs was a trail of blood. As Jade came into entry, everyone rushed over to comfort her, and she began to cry and yell out in pain. I however looked towards the top of the stairs to see a small mound at the foot of the poster. I made sure to walk at the edge of the stair case so I wouldn’t get any blood on me, and when I got to the top I gagged, then threw up at the sight before me. Pat’s neck had clearly been broken easily at a ninety degree angle, with hundreds of cuts across his body and a large red streak up the front of his now ragged tux. My eyes then turned to the poster where his hand seemed to be reaching towards. On it was the number seven written in blood. I quickly ran downstairs to see everyone arguing, about what had just happened. Once I got to the bottom of the stairs they all stopped and turned to face me.

“Is he up there?” Jade sobbed. I just nodded my head and she immediately began to cry again. I grabbed the other two guys and brought them to the top of the stairs explaining what they would find once they got there. But once we got there, to my horror his body was gone.

“I swear he was just here!” I shouted in disbelief.
The other two looked just as horrified and shocked as I did.

“We need to come up with a plan and fast,” Jamal stated as we reached the bottom of the stairs, “and wasn’t there a door there just a second ago?” He finished pointing to where the kitchen doorway used to be. I swore under my breath and gathered everyone in the bedroom.

“Ok so,” I started a little winded; “From now on we stick together until it’s time to hide otherwise we can easily get picked off, or lose each other.”
“Why don’t we just wait for the bastard who is doing this and just mess him up,” krissie suggested, “because in horror movies that’s the number one issue no one tries to gang up on the killer till they are all dead.”

“I don’t think the killer is human that’s why.”I admitted, a little skeptical myself.

“What makes you say that?” Becca asked.

“Well judging by how quickly he was dragged up the stairs, and based on how big of a guy Pat was if a person were to drag him up the stairs it would take more than 30 seconds. Which is how long it took for all of us to group up in the entry way. Plus I saw the wounds inflicted on him and no normal person could have done that in the allotted time.”

“Alright but why can’t we just stay here then?” Dayna questioned.

“If a door disappears every ten minutes like the rules say then that would mean we would run out of doors eventually, and it also says that once a door is gone everything behind it disappears with so in theory we would all disappear.”

“Well since we are all in the same room, let’s open another door and see where it goes I don’t want to be here any longer than I need to be…” Jade sobbed as she got off her knees and made her way to a door at the far side of the bedroom. We all followed her, as she took a deep ragged breath and opened the door.

We were right back in the entry way… except it was laid out differently than before. The left door way was now a bedroom with only seven beds in it this time. The kitchen was now a large screened in porch with a swimming pool, and the stairs now only led to one door and next to it the poster.
I looked down at my watch. It was 9:50.

“Shit we only have a minute everybody, find somewhere to hide!” everyone ran their separate directions. I ran into the room that was once the bedroom and was now a study and hid underneath a desk. As soon as I was situated however I heard someone running up the stairs. It didn’t hit me right away till I heard a door open. I swore to myself about how stupid they were being, and could possibly have just gotten someone killed. But before I could dwell on the thought any longer I heard it again. The whispering only this time it was different almost like there were two. Five, four, three, two, one…
I don’t know why I did it, but I shouted as loud as I could so everyone could hear me, “Run!”

But it was too late. A second later I could hear Dayna scream followed by a loud crack and splash from the swimming pool. I sprinted out of the room to see right in the center of the entry way a large blood splatter mark, followed by a trail of blood to the pool. We were all in the door way when Felix walked out of the pool crying with Dayna in his arms. He collapsed to the ground holding her. From what I could see her whole face was caved in, which would explain the blood spot on the floor. Everyone else threw up, but I already had my traumatizing visual.

“What do we do now?” Jamal asked as he ran his hands through his hair in thought.

“We have to keep moving, so whatever it is that is doing this can’t catch us.”
“I was there,” Felix stammered, “I saw them. They took her from me! Her foot was poking out from under the bed and they grabbed her!”
“Them? Who is them Felix?” I asked putting my hand on his shoulder.
“It was Pat and another man…” he finished shaking his head in disbelief.
Everyone gasped including me. So that’s what the sign had meant by me/us. I looked down at my watch. 9:59pm, we had to get through a door and fast.
“Guys we have one minute we need to get through a door STAT!” I said taking Felix’s elbow, but he quickly shrugged me off.
“Felix let’s go!” Jamal pleaded through the doorway.
“I can’t go on without her,” He smiled sadly at us, “I love each and every one of you like family, but I must stay here with her.” Once every one left the room, I gave him a slight nudge on the shoulder.
“Catch you on the flip side brother.” I smiled weakly at him.
“No… you won’t.”

And just as I exited the room and turned to face him one last time, he was gone. I placed my hand where the door used to be and prayed that whatever had just happened to him it was fast and painless. I held in a sob, took a deep breath and turned to face the remaining four. Jamal was comforting Krissie, while Becca was kneeling down next to Jade who was now sitting and hugging her legs while rocking back and forth crying. I went to the settings on my phone and set a timer to go off every five minutes, one minute before we were supposed to be hiding and before a door would disappear.

“Get away from me,” Jade hissed at Becca, “How can you say something like that? Nothing is going to be ok! Pat and Dayna are dead not to mention that Felix just magically disappeared with her! Screw you guys, screw this house, screw this ‘game’, and…” she was cut off by the sound of my phone beeping.
“What is that for?” Jamal asked.

“I set it so we don’t get caught off guard when the time to hide comes,” I stated looking to my phone, “We need to hide now.”

“No,” Jade objected, “I told you guys I’m done with this stupid game! I am not hiding!”

Jamal reached for her arm but she instantly shrugged him off. We all started shouting at her telling her she was being unreasonable and that she needed to calm down. She just cursed at us and began to make her way to the study. As she did so however I began to hear the whispers again.

“Do you guys hear that?” I asked hoping it wasn’t just me.
“The whispers,” Becca pointed out, “yes I do.”

“Good it’s not just me,” Jamal chuckled before calling out to Jade, “Jade we don’t have time for this you need to hide!”

She stopped then in the entry way of the study and we sighed in relief that she finally came to her senses, but my relief was quickly replace with horror once the counting started.

“Pat,” She whispered loudly, “is that really you? Who is that with you?” She turned around and began to scream once they counted down to zero. She started to run toward us but as she made it half way down the hall way four figures shot out of the study, grabbed jade and drug her in by her ankles. We quickly sprinted down the hall and into the study only to find that she had been impaled on a knight statues spear, with hundreds of cuts covering her body. I swore loudly and smashed my hand on the studies desk living a large crack going through the center. I immediately regretted doing so however as my hand began to throb from the pain and began to swell. Becca put her hand on my shoulder to comfort me.

“You can make it through this Jay bear,” Becca crooned, “You’ve been through too much to let this defeat you.”

I immediately calmed down, but I couldn’t help but feel something off about Becca. She never used my nickname Jay bear, mostly because she knew I didn’t like it when my mother coddled and embarrassed me with it. Then again it helped to relax me a little.

“We should get moving.” Jamal suggested. We all nodded in agreement as we made our way to the new door in the study. We all took a deep breath before opening the next door.

We were now in a large ballroom. It kind of reminded me of the one in that Stephen King movie Rose Red, except the mirrors and such were all replaced by closed doors and there were four long rows of tables with fancy cloths and silverware laid out. There were six doors in total, but one was open and led to a large hallway, located at the very back of the room.

“Why couldn’t our prom have been here,” Jamal joked, “Oh wait, there is a creepy supernatural entity killing us off. If you ask me that would be a total buzz kill.”

Then, right on queue a banner fell down at the center of the room, which read:

Doors now disappear every two minutes!
Have fun!

“You have got to be kidding me!” Krissie screamed in protest.
I immediately added another alarm to my phone, and as I did so the door behind us disappeared. We needed to get moving.

“I say we go through the open door before it disappears,” Becca offered, “There seem to be more doors to choose from.”

“True,” I agreed, “but there is also less hiding spaces which would mean we would have to open another door in hopes of finding more, which could be risky.” As soon as I finished that thought the alarm went off. We all hugged each other and I whispered to hide under the tables and crawl our way to the front, and if they hear the countdown start, run for the open door.

Once we all were under the tables we slowly began to make our way to the far end of the room. Once I was half way I stopped as a foot came down fairly close to where I was now kneeling. I had to hold back from shouting Felix’s name as I could recognize his favorite pair of shoes anywhere. Idiot even wore them to prom. I was three quarters of the way there when I heard a loud thud under one of the tables, followed by the counting.

“Run!” I shouted as everyone got out from under the tables and began sprinting for the door. I made it to the door first, turning around to see the other three right behind me, and right behind them looking exactly as they did when they had died were our other four friends and another older looking gentleman I couldn’t exactly recognize, and there were sprinting… a lot faster than the living ones. I swore to myself as I thought quickly about what to do. I ran to the nearest door and got ready to open it as soon as everyone was through. Jamal and Becca made it through first but krissie had slipped just before the door way, and the other five were closing fast. Jamal quickly sprinted over to her, picked her up and threw her through the door way. He then turned to sprint but realized it was too late.

“Open the door James,” Jamal shouted, “I don’t want to give them the satisfaction of catching me!” I nodded and quickly opened the door I was holding, and an instant later the ballroom was gone.
“Jamal!” Krissie screamed, falling into Becca’s arms sobbing uncontrollably. Becca rocked her back and forth for a minute passing her fingers through her hair before turning to me.

“What do we do now?” Becca asked, looking teary eyed her-self.
“We have no choice but to move on.” I sighed. As Becca and I made our way through the door I had just opened I heard another door open up behind us. We both spun around to see krissie opening up random doors.

“What the hell are you doing?” I seethed. She turned to face me with with a scowl.

“I’m ending this nightmare! Maybe if it’s just me left I will win the game! Then I can get out of this hell hole!”

Becca ran quickly to the door behind us and opened it but nothing happened.
“Don’t just stand there,” she beckoned, “we need to get rid of her before she gets rid of us!” I took her hand and began running through random bedrooms, kitchens, and bathrooms. I stopped after the twelfth floor, turning to see that the door we had just gone through had disappeared. I sighed in relief and wrapped my arms around Becca, kissing her on the forehead. We had barely just caught our breadth when my alarm started to go off once again. I clenched my jaw, knowing that no matter what happened this would probably be the last time I would see Becca.

“Becca I just want to let you know-,” she cut me off before I could say anything more, with a kiss and I kissed her back.

“We should probably start running.” She stated eyeing the only room in front of us.

“You make sure you stay as close to me as you possibly can, okay? That way none of us can get left behind.” She nodded and kissed me on the cheek.
“Let’s go.” She stated as the whispers began to count down once more. I took her hand and we took off to the nearest door way. Door after door, room after room we went , but they kept coming. Never stopping once, never letting up their pursuit. I could hear Becca starting to get winded and we slowed down to a jog.

“We can’t keep this up.” She uttered between breadths. As soon as she said that I opened the next door and… it was a dead end. We looked to be in the attic now, with the large rounded glass window. I turned to see the others only seconds behind us. I turned to the glass to see that it was full of cracks and seemed like it was ready to break. I turned to Becca.
“Do you trust me?” I called to her.

“Yes!” She shouted as she followed my gaze. I grabbed her, wrapping my arms around her head and waist, leaping backwards so that I could break her fall. If I had remembered correctly it was almost 3 stories. I could survive that I told myself. As soon as we broke through the window everything seemed to move in slow motion. I could see the glass around me light up like fire flies as the sun light shone through them. I could feel Becca’s tight grip around me, and behind her were 7 hands reaching out toward us. Just as we were about to hit the sunlight, I could feel her grip loosen around my waist. I Scream out as loud as I could, reaching for her, her reaching for me as I fell and she was dragged up through the window. A jolt went through my body and I could hear a loud crack as my head banged against the sidewalk. Immediately my vision began to blur. I could feel the warm stickiness of blood forming around my head. I looked up one last time to the attic window to see all eight of them staring down at me. I turned towards the sun and closed my eyes, and everything went white.

Literally something was so bright that all I could see was white, but as quickly as it came it was gone, and all I could see was a blur of figures moving around me and muffled noises of what seemed like people talking.

“James,” called a familiar voice, “James if you can hear me say something.”
“I can hear you just fine.” I muttered. A few people began to cry, and as my vision cleared I could see people hugging each other crying tears of joy. Where exactly was I?

“James I can see you are confused,” stated the voice I now recognized as Pat’s father, which was weird because he worked in a hospital. I am pretty sure there were no hospitals in heaven, “James you have been in a coma for a month now, how are you feeling?”

“Wait what,” I spat in disbelief, “How? Was it from my fall?” I asked. Everyone there just stared at me mostly with grief or sorrowful expressions.
“James there was no fall,” Pat’s father explained, “A month ago you were in a car accident. You were on your way to a friend’s house after prom. On your way a drunk driver was driving on the wrong side of the road and struck your limo head on.” He paused a moment to let it sink in and as he did so he pulled out photos of the wreckage. What I saw completely shocked and horrified me. I stared at the pictures in complete shock, and I could see it was equally as tough for Pat’s father as well. The first photo was of Pat who had been flung from the vehicle, snapping his neck on impact. His body was covered in cuts caused by flying through the windshield and sliding across the road. The next photo was of Dayna who was also flung from the car but her head was crushed as the limo rolled over her. The last photo was of Jade, who had been impaled by what looked the exhaust pipe of the vehicle, and she was also covered in cuts made by glass. I stared at the last photo in disbelief. The photos matched the wounds that had killed his friends in the house almost perfectly, but that didn’t explain what had happened to the rest of them.
“What happened to everyone else?” I asked reluctantly.

“Well after the car struck the limo, it caused it to flip on its side and roll tossing the first three and yourself from the vehicle,” Pat’s father began, “The vehicle then rolled off the side of the bridge you were all driving across. We were able to locate two bodies inside of the limo, which had fallen into a river. The other two remain missing in the river.”
“So who were the ones found in the vehicle?” I asked having a good idea of who they were, as I began to connect the dots.

“Felix and,” he hesitated a moment as he saw me begin to tear up, “Becca.”
I stifled a sob, and nodded that I was ready for the rest. He handed me a tablet with a video on the screen ready to play.

“This was recovered from the limo. It’s footage of what happened in the limo at the time of the accident.”

Everyone’s eyes were on me as I played the video, as I watched there was one part that hit me the hardest. As the limo was struck, I lunged straight for Becca, wrapping my arms around her just as I had done before jumping out the window. I watched though as we bounced around the vehicle a few times before I went out one of the windows, and Becca’s dress got caught on the glass dragging her back in. Then a few moments later the car jolted and the tape went black.

I asked everyone to leave to give me a moment to take it all in. As everyone left I cried. It all finally made sense. They say you hear things when you are in a coma, and all the weird things everyone had said to me made sense now. “It wasn’t my time”, Becca calling me Jay Bear, that was my mom talking to me. They also say when you’re in a coma you can get stuck in the in-between. Which would also explain some of the comments they made to me about making it through the night, and me already doing my best to protect Becca. It finally all made sense. I took a deep breath to calm myself down, and once the tears had stopped I opened my mouth to call out for everyone to come back into the room but was cut off… I turned in horror as my phone alarm went off signaling that it had been ten minutes. I was in my own room so that meant that there was only one door in the entire room. I had to check. I reached out grabbing the curtains around my bed, took a deep breath and flung them open.

Game Over…?

Credit To – Blake L. Patrick

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A Parent’s Plea

August 30, 2015 at 12:00 PM
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Throughout my years of reading people’s stories of this nature, I have noticed that many of them speak from the perspective of a child. This is entirely apt: we’ve all been children, we’ve all had the strange and unexplainable experiences before we “grew up” and convinced ourselves we’d figured out how the world worked.

As children, the rules are flexible. Monsters, flying, magic are all perfectly acceptable in our worlds until the droll, seriousness of ‘science’ takes over.

Please forgive me if I depart from this perspective and assume that of a parent, a father. I realise that many of you good readers, for plentiful reasons, have not had this experience. Those of you who have will agree that the becoming of a parent bestows upon one the weight of all responsibility. You are the one upon whom all the power of protection, reassurance and care rests. You have in your charge a unique and precious entity, your duty to preserve and nourish it. It is a sacred and terrifying burden. Thus is was with Corley.

When my first son – how I miss him! – was born, I confess I felt lost and terrified as well as the happier emotions new parenthood brings. But plenty of others do it, I thought. Millions all over the world, throughout history, have raised children and they managed. Poorer, less educated, even less evolved animals do it all the time! I would be fine!

Oh would it were so.

The first few months were the typical mundane, hectic, calm, chaotic, messy, joyous and absurd times of modern parenting. Corley was a difficult sleeper at first; hated sleeping alone. I can sense the parents reading this smile knowingly – for aren’t all babies like this? They have to be trained to sleep alone, heartbreaking though it might be. In infancy, Corley would scream for hours if he was separated from his mother or me; long after we had passed out from exhaustion, we would wake to hear him screaming. Eventually we relented. Surely any damage done by sleeping with his parents would be less than the obvious discomfort he felt screaming all night.

He developed into a spirited, highly energetic toddler. He was tireless, rough and boisterous but just as loving and relational as one could hope for. He was a little delayed in walking, and speaking, but every child is different aren’t they? Don’t rush them, says the literature. They’ll get there in their own time. And of course, he did. For a time.

Now reader, please allow me a small indulgence. You’ve heard about the horrors of parenthood: the sleeplessness, soiled nappies, drudgery, boredom. You’ve also heard about the “joy”, and the “amazement” and any number of superlative words of “wonder” that it brings. Thus it was when Corley started talking. More so, understanding. It is known that babies and children absorb huge amounts of information before they venture into language themselves. A new word, a colour, a concept. I was especially moved when he identified with me enough to give me a name: “Bab”.

The most special part of this for me was that instant of connection between two minds – that brief eye contact where he understood something, and I saw that he did, and he saw that I saw, and so on into that endless feedback loop that signifies the connection of two minds. We adults do that every day of course, with our friends and colleagues; but when you see it happen for the first time with your own child… then, you understand why we go on about it so.

And this must be when it started. Of course I didn’t realise at the time – who would with their first child? – that something was amiss. Shortly after I had begun to see these ‘connections’ regularly, I noticed that Corley would often shift his gaze from mine to a space in the room just over my shoulder. The look of understanding in his eyes would deepen. His smile would broaden. The first time I had assumed that his mother was behind me, and he was reacting to her. He would still acknowledge me of course, but his greatest recognition was reserved for that vacant space behind me, up by the ceiling, or at the top of the curtains.

“Bab!” he would say, as I caught his attention. “Bababab!” and he would give me that look of recognition before sliding his eyeline beyond, and smile and perhaps nod faintly as he acknowledged his unseen ‘friend’.

Now. I know at this point there are a thousand reasons that this could be. Perhaps his reactions were just delayed – he needed to stare into space momentarily as he processed his infant thoughts. Maybe a fly or a wisp of light caught his fancy. Or he was daydreaming! Why would I entertain foolish thoughts of him looking at ‘someone else’? Something else? For heaven’s sake, maybe the supernaturalists are right, and children do indeed see sprites and beings and auras and faeries and dragons, before the mighty hand of ‘science’ and ‘reason’ crush out altogether the world of the fantastical! If it’s normal and happens to us all, well then what of it?!

Like you, dear reader, I scoffed at my over-concern. And I would have forgotten it by now, as Corley is almost seven, had things eventuated the way I’d hoped. But as you see by now, they did not. Far from it.

Some nights later, I was heading to bed very late, congratulating myself on my brilliant fatherhood prowess, as I had only recently got Corley to sleep in his own bed calmly and without fuss. His mother worked night shifts as a nurse, so this formidable task had been left to me. As I passed his room I heard a voice. A calm, competent, clear voice. I inched closer, obviously in some confusion. The voice was Corley’s. He was holding a conversation! Proper sentences, and leaving a pause for the imaginary other participant, much as if he were on the phone. As I approached I was able to make out his dialogue.

“I can’t,” he said.

A brief pause.

“I’m not going to.”

Another pause.

“No. No I won’t. I would never do that.”

Of course I was stunned as he’d never said more than “bababab” or “mama” or “num num num” to me. And now he was negating hypothetical future situations? How was it so?

He continued:


And then, after a longer silence:

“Because he is my father.”

Aghast, I strode into the darkened room. The curtain was open as usual, the sodium streetlight casting a dreary orange stripe on the far wall. It was dark enough to sleep, but light enough to see Corley sitting upright facing the end of his bed. He turned to me as I entered, his little face blank and neutral.

“Who were you talking to?” I asked him. He stared up at me, his face unreadable and innocent as a toddler’s.

“Bababab,” he replied. I knelt down by him, and gestured to the end of his bed.

“Who were you talking to?” I repeated, in a more kindly and soft tone. He continued looking at me and whispered “babab” again and put his hand gently on my arm. I tried a few other more complex questions to prompt him into revealing his powers of conversation with me, but he just continued to stare calmly, occasionally whispering “babab”. I was tired, I was rattled, but what could I do? I couldn’t demand he converse with me. I bid him sleep now, and he immediately lay down, placed his head on his pillow, all the while watching me as I kissed his forehead and left. Watching me with that same serene, impenetrable expression.
I slept poorly. The image of him in confident discussion with the end of his bed haunted my slumber, and the nature of his subject echoed on the edges of my conciousness. I rose some hours later to use the lavatory and heard Corley’s voice again. It was hushed this time, scarcely above a whisper. I crept to his door and listened to the following:

“I just want to go to sleep now.”


“Please go, I’m tired. I want to sleep.”

A longer pause, and then something of a weary sigh.

“Alright. I will if I can go to sleep right now.”


“I’ve said I would.”

I’m sorry to say I burst in at speed. Corley was fast asleep, snoring soundly, tangled in his cosy nest of blankets and toys. I tried to rouse him a couple of times but he was deep in slumber. ‘Dead to the world’, as the phrase goes.

As it was almost dawn and his mother would be home soon, I decided to resist the urge to sit up with him and watch over him. In any case he was now so deep in his dreams I reckoned that nothing could wake him, and I trudged back to my own bed and slumped into unconsciousness.

I decided against burdening my dear wife with the story; her work as a psychiatric nurse is traumatic enough and throwing a bizarre story at her about her son’s nighttime conferences wasn’t what she needed. And what would I expect her to do about it, I imagined her saying. Shouldn’t I, as the father, the husband of the house, the protector – the ‘man’ – be able to resolve it?

The next few days, indeed months and years, are of scant interest to this story. Suffice to say there were no more midnight communications that I was aware of, and though he was slower than most, and his distracted recognition of this unseen ‘friend’ of his increased and deepened, Corley grew. His character as observed by others, was of a quiet and solitary boy. Polite and serious when spoken to, his expression unknowable, gentle and reticent. The boisterous exuberance of his infancy was all but gone. Occasionally he could be seen running and laughing as he played outside, often alone, so as a family we weren’t particularly concerned.

When he was nearly four, his brother Antonio was born. Having experienced a new baby once already, we were much less stressed and ‘on-edge’ than with Corley. Antonio learned and adapted to life quickly. He could speak before two, and shortly after he could read several words and toilet himself. His knowledge of the basics – colours, animals, numbers, people – was considerable. Every day he seemed to learn a new word or phrase and begin using it. He would relish the idea of learning concepts and ideas. Corley, at six years old, was his idol, his hero. At least at first.

But as you will predict, the happiness receded and a darker time stole ever closer to us.

Corley grew more distant as his brother grew more competent. He had almost stopped talking to anyone, and seemed to run on autopilot. He ate mechanically. He read, wrote, engaged with other children, spoke, played only when directed. He never offered comment or opinion unless demanded, and then it was only ever “good” or “nice”. When we embraced him before school or before bed, his arms would automatically return the hug then drop to his side, devoid of emotion or warmth. His eyes would meet mine, but his neutral expression was even more pronounced. Please forgive my absurd oxymoronic grammar, but I could only describe it as ‘extremely neutral’.

I have read enough about conditions and syndromes such as dyspraxia, autism, Aspergers and such, to know that the world is big enough to embrace every child, no matter their disposition. I know that children who are exposed to trauma or poison or drugs can develop conditions like this. In Syria there are children so affected by the horrors of conflict that there is doubt they will ever ‘come back’. In Congo there are child-soldiers who have been stripped of their personalities through drugs and exploitation. Haiti even has a legal status of ‘zombie’ for people who have disappeared and returned with their emotions and humanity drained. In areas of Eastern Europe are children who have been mentally erased through trafficking and prostitution. Every country hosts some of these tragic, blank beings. Though it was somewhat agonising for us, his parents and brother, and the underfunded and disinterested health-system being what it is, we never found out what it was that caused this ebb of passion, of vitality.

Months passed. Antonio grew disinterested in his brother, in favour of his other friends. He stopped acknowledging him altogether, and regarded him as something of a piece of furniture. He wasn’t cruel or disdainful, but I suppose since he never elicited any reaction from Corley any more, he just ceased his engagement with him.

It was another dark and heavy Autumn night, around the 25th or 26th of March (Northern Hemisphere readers please note, in New Zealand the Autumn seem to come quickly, as sunset clunks in early when Daylight Savings Time ends.) I was again heading to bed late when I heard a voice coming from my boys’ bedroom. Antonio’s voice. Again that one-sided conversation, as of Corley’s those years ago. Though my distress was obviously great, I again listened.

The conversation was much more animated than Corley’s had been. Antonio was discussing events from his day, subjects like his favourite toys, basic emotions – normal three-year-old stuff. And occasionally laughing, as if the ‘other’ party had made some amusing comment. Then I heard this:

“You’re my brother. I love you, Corley!” and a delighted laugh.

I rushed in. Antonio was sitting up in his bed, his attention directed to the foot of it, an empty space. Corley was asleep, silent and still in his own bed on the other side of the room. Antonio glanced toward me as I approached, then returned to his dialogue.

“Dad here,” he said to the empty space. “Come on, Corley. Come out.” He turned to me and smiled, saying: “Dad, Corley’s here!”, again directing his attention to the foot of the bed.
“Where you going, Corley?” he giggled. nad after a moment he simply said “goodnight” and clunked his head down onto his pillow.
“Goodnight Dad.”

Needless to say reader, he offered no explanation of his eerie actions. He just looked at me with a gleam of happiness in his eye until he fell asleep.

I never heard his nocturnal conversations again. And that is almost the end of my story, except for this final event. Some months later Antonio was sitting at the table finishing his dinner. Corley was there too, but it was almost as if he had regressed further. Antonio did not even register him any more. Even his mother and I had to remember to attempt to engage with him, as our busy working life and day-to-day business took up more of our time. I was trying to get Antonio to acknowlegde Corley, perhaps talk to him or share his thoughts with him.

Antonio frowned. “No,” he replied. I don’t like Corley. I replied with some platitude about that not being nice, he’s your brother, he loves you, and similar words.

“I don’t like Corley,” Antonio repeated more emphatically. “Corley screaming. Corley screaming all the time.” He must have seen my shocked expression as he shifted his gaze to over my shoulder, up to that space by the ceiling, still frowning. His tone became grumpy, as that of any annoyed three-year-old. He stared back down at his plate, his eyes briefly flicking up to that empty spot.

“He screaming all the time now.”


And that really is all there is to tell. But my plea is thus: all of you parents, and those that would become parents, and those that are thinking of becoming parents. Please hug your child every day and tell them that you love them. Take every opportunity to spoil them. For the time we can show them that love may be all too brief.

Credit To – Mastadon

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August 30, 2015 at 12:00 AM
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I got a message in my inbox a few weeks ago. I run a paranormal side-blog on tumblr but it is a small one. I barely have a following. It is mostly just the friends I have who happen to care about that sort of stuff (it isn’t many).

When I got the message I actually asked if one of them had sent it. It felt like it was probably a prank. I don’t get many (read: any) submissions to my blog. I’m just too small time and I don’t advertise plus I just reblog other people like sixpenceee and fuckyeahnightmares instead of making any original posts. To tell the truth I’ve been contemplating closing it and only haven’t because its been a convenient archive for the creepy posts I like but know most of the people who follow my main blog don’t care about.

Anyway the message read:

“Do you know about that tumblr that posts an odd audio file once a week? It only does it after erasing the previous week’s file, so there is only ever one audio file on it at a time.

Someone posted the link to it on the paranormal forum I frequent and I bookmarked it, I’ve been listening to the new files every week. People on the forum said the language is usually Japanese but despite knowing the language the files don’t always make sense to me.Sometimes they do but more often they are very distorted and odd. I can’t put my finger on exactly why sometimes, other times it is very obvious.

The most recent file is both. The beginning seems to mean something along the lines of a prayer and then fades into babbling but the audio feels wrong somehow, then it gets progressively louder until it is deafening before easing back out into it’s odd quiet statement of nonsense.

I went to the forum to discuss this week’s file only to find the thread had been deleted. Only a few of us were left talking about it, most people had lost interest or left the forum so there just were not that many posters. I thought the thread was deleted for inactivity, but when I tried to start a new thread it was closed immediately.

I don’t know why. I want to think it is because maybe the mods just got fed up with us. No one had any conclusive theories after all and the thread was pretty dry by the point of it being closed so maybe they just anticipated it would be the same in a new thread. That is what the rational part of me is thinking. I did try to contact the mods but I haven’t gotten a response.

I tried to contact some of the other people I had been talking with but they didn’t respond to me either, and I’m starting to realize a lot of them, formerly very active contributors, haven’t been active for weeks now.

The less rational part of me is starting to feel kind of alone and nervous. I’m the only person still active on the forums who got into it this much, it seems like. I can’t talk to anyone about it at all in real life, no one would be interested. It feels like I’ve been left alone in a room with something volatile and curious with no one to tell me what to do with it. I don’t know if I can stop poking at it, and I don’t know what it might do. So I thought I’d tell more people because probably the sinister part of this is all in my mind, and someone else will figure it out, I mean if it is a code like we were theorizing and/or if its just some weird viral marketing thing or something?

its probably benign after all.”

It was submitted as a link which went to the tumblr it is talking about.

After my friends swore up an down they hadn’t submitted me anything I tried googling the post. I thought it was probably a sort of creepypasta spam. I guessed it had probably been sent to a lot of people including the bigger horror tumblrs but in the end I came up empty.

Googling parts of the message in quotations (“like this”) on google brought up nothing. Googling the url included brought up no one talking about it. Googling just the username portion of the tumblr url brought up a lot of results but it seems like the name is pretty common so that was just another dead end. I tried to look for the forum referenced in the message but without any real info on what it was I couldn’t find it.

I should probably mention I had visited the url the message linked to. When I first got the message even thinking it was a friend prank I was curious enough to check it out. I listened to it and closed it pretty annoyed that I’d had headphones on when the sound picked up. The message had warned me about that though so it was my own fault. On a whim I ended up going back and downloading the file to see if maybe the meta data said anything about the author (and maybe prove it was someone I know playing a long game) but there was nothing there. Someone had wiped it clean. Here is the file uploaded to vocaroo if you want to check:

My blog is tiny, even if I published it no one would see it so I didn’t really think of doing that. I left it or awhile and eventually forgot about it.

But then today a new audio post from the blog showed up on my dashboard.

I’m sure most people are familiar with how tumblr works. You don’t see someone’s post on your dash unless someone you follow reblogs it, you are following the poster or tumblr promotes it on your dash (in which case there will be an icon/words on the post saying it is promoted content). This was none of those things.

the post showed up on my dash /as if I was following that blog/. I did not hit follow that time I visited. I even checked the list of people I follow and that blog is not on it. But somehow a post from it ended up on my dash. I hit play.

This one was short. It consisted of one word. The sound quality was weird. It sounded like English but also could be a similar word in French. I had thought all the messages were suppose to be in Japanese and was somehow startled. I’m from Quebec and speak both English and French. Why would it suddenly be in a language I could understand?

I went to the blog and sure enough this was the only post just like the message said. I tried to shake it off but why was it on my dash? In a language I know?

I didn’t bother asking my friends about it. The person I had most suspected before is camping this week and has no internet access. Sure it could be a queued post but how the hell would it get onto my dash? And if it was a queue post why would the previous post have been deleted?

I also don’t know what to do with it. No one reads my blog. I feel like something is really going on here but I don’t think I can figure it out by myself. i tried emailing the person who sent me this message for the millionth time but have gotten no response. So I decided to share it here. I mean it is probably nothing though, I mean if it is a code like we were theorizing and/or if its just some weird viral marketing thing or something?

its probably benign after all.

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August 25, 2015 at 12:00 AM
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I could say I was having a pretty peaceful life. I just graduated high school and is about to enter college in a week, to which my mom is really proud of because I decided to pursue something great for my life instead of just applying for McDonalds or something. Anyway, everything was going along pretty normal, until one day I overheard my mom talking to someone through the phone.

“Who was that mom?” I asked because she looked sorry for something, like a friend had a problem and she was feeling sorry for her.

“Oh, just our old neighbor. Remember that house we lived in many years back? He said the family that moved after us just left yesterday.”

My brows just furrowed, since I couldn’t recall living in a house other than this one. Then my mom softly laughed and patted my back. “You probably don’t remember because you were too little.”

“Really? Why did we move away?”
“We moved because of you, honey.” She chuckled as she waved it off with her hand. “You kept on bugging me about some monsters or whatever. To be honest, we wouldn’t have left there if your aunt didn’t offer this house for only half the price. A lot cheaper, and you kept on complaining back there anyway so I just agreed to move.”

I just nodded in understanding, though I still couldn’t recall what she was saying. Eventually I just let it go and continue with my business. Making sure my papers are complete, packing my stuff that I’ll surely need; you know, the usual things to prepare before you move away and enter a new part of your life. The next day, I guess I could say boredom and curiosity just attacked me out of nowhere, and the idea of visiting that old house crossed my mind. I asked my mom, and I was actually surprised when I found out it was just a 15-minute drive away. You guessed it right; I did go to the house, and as soon as I stood there in front of the empty driveway, the memories started flooding back like a light switch was flipped open. And I did remember the little me complaining about something almost everyday during breakfast, but I just laughed it off, thinking that it was probably just my wild imagination as a kid.

I carefully approached the door, just in case someone was still in there even though mom said the family moved out and the house is probably empty by now. I tried to opened the door, not really expecting it to be open, so I was surprised when it did open. Maybe I’m just lucky, eh? Anyway, the house still had a lot of furniture around, and I actually remember myself doing childish stuff on them like jumping on the sofa or scribbling on the cabinets. I could only chuckle as the memories flashed by my eyes like I was watching a movie. Eventually, I found my way to my old room, and my small bed was still there on a corner, like all these years it has never been moved the other way. The tiny amused smile on my face faded away as I started to remember what I was fuzzing about while we still lived here.

I kept on complaining about a monster under my bed. Every night before I sleep, mom would check and assure me that nothing is under there, but as soon as the lights are off and mom is gone, I start to feel those long, slow scratching right against the wood under my bed. I could even feel it vibrating through the mattress and the thick blanket I wrapped myself with in fear. Eventually, I’ll fall asleep despite of the incredible fear and wake up the next morning crying.

As I stood there at the doorway, this new surge of curiosity flowed right through me. I dunno; that “monster under the bed” was probably just the usual stuff kids tend to imagine, but I wanted to fulfill this silly curiosity so why not? I walked closer to the bed and took deep breaths. For some reason, being near it sent an eerie sensation up my back, but I tried to shake it away. With one heave, I lifted the whole bed and propped it against the wall. I was ready to laugh at myself for doing that for nothing, but horror washed all that away as I saw long, deep scratches against the wood. There were just so many to the point that some parts of the wood were already too thin and could break with just a single poke.

I couldn’t believe it.

Gasping, I scrambled out the room and out of the house. I was about to enter my car when an elderly woman from next door called out to me.

“May I help you?” She said with narrowed eyes. Darn. She probably thought I was stealing something from the house. Wiping the sweat off my face, I awkwardly approached her.

“I was uhh… I used to live here. I was just checking out what’s new.” I half expected that she wouldn’t believe me, but then her eyes widened as if she recognized me.

“Oh! Are you that little superman kid?” She made awkward little gestures that looked like dancing. “The one that always danced like this in the backyard?”

It was funny how the embarrassment was able to wash away the horror in a blink. Yeah, I remember that. “Y-yeah…”

“Oh my gosh you’ve grown so much!” She said all teary eyed and hugged me tight, then started mumbling things like she and mom were friends and they always came over. Only when she mentioned about a call that I realized she was the one mom was talking to yesterday.

“Did you decide to visit because I called yesterday?”

I glanced at the house, but this time, fear crept inside my heart instead of nostalgia.

“Yes, sort of… You said the family just moved out of here?”
“Yeah, they were such a nice family.” She said sadly as she followed my gaze. “Too bad they had to move away.”

“Why did they move away?”

“Quite silly, actually.” She chuckled, but the sorry look remained on her face.”But I guess they’re just ready to do anything for their kids. The mom told me that their youngest daughter won’t stop whining over something for months. It stressed the parents so much and even their older daughter. They had to endure the little one’s whining, but then I guess they eventually got tired of it decided to move away.”

The same eerie feeling started to crawl up my spine once again, but I pushed on my curiosity and asked another question. But boy, little did I know that I’ll only regret that I ever asked that.

“What was the girl whining about?”

The older woman paused for a bit, as if to try to remember, but quickly returned her attention to me with a smile. “You know, just some usual children stuff. Someone scratching under her bed or something.”

Credit To – Euwonlol

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Visceroys and Artisans

August 19, 2015 at 12:00 PM
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I have to say one of the things I hate the most is to have somebody walking behind me, doesn’t matter if it’s a friend or a complete stranger, I don’t like it. I feel insecure, watched and uncomfortable. You might call me paranoid but honestly, for me, it’s unbearable. Let me begin by saying that the reason I practically hate that is due to some occurrences during my childhood. All of the events that I will tell you actually happened so you probably will understand that for protection purposes (yourself, my family and mine) I will avoid providing any names or locations. Also, you should know English is not my primary language.

I was born in a small town surrounded by hills, factories and railroads; its weather was mostly dominated by rain, hail and snow and its streets were poorly adapted to handle such drastic climatic changes. Being a small town, the places that you could visit during your spare time were limited, so it wasn’t unusual that you saw half the town in the movies during the weekend or even buying groceries for the week. There weren’t many schools to attend, careers to study or places to work. You just knew that if you lived there you would probably do the same things everybody else did, you’d had the same friends you grew up with and probably marry one of them. People there were comfortable with this monotony. Extremely boring if you ask me. I hated there. I guess the only cool thing is that whenever we had snow, school got cancelled and me and my brothers went outside to make snow angels and snow fights.

Well, it was in this old, forgotten and non-pretty little town that my parents bought their first house. It was relatively large. Considering the continuous movement of trains, tractors, and traffic, chaos that was common every day, they were lucky enough to get a house away from all that in a relaxed and familiar colony. It was originally a one story house, which turned out to be perfect as there were only my parents and my two brothers. However, after I was born, space became an issue so they decided to expand it and build a second floor. This is basically how the house was distributed: In the first floor was the dining room, the kitchen, one bedroom I shared with my older sister, a full bathroom and a small hallway that led towards my older brother’s room. On the second floor was a TV room and at the end my parents’ bedroom with their respective bathroom.

There was a small balcony with metal railing at the foot of the stairs to go to the second floor; it was pretty cool as you had a panoramic view of the TV room and you didn’t need to go all the way downstairs to call someone, you could just do it from the balcony. It was poorly designed, I must say, as the ceiling was at such a high level that not even a six-foot-five-inches tall person could reach it. This abnormal height between the floor and ceiling caused everything to look darker than normal at night. Now that I think about it, it was a very strange house.

I have good and bad memories during the eleven years I lived there; you could say we were a close but dysfunctional family. I got along well with my two older brothers, although it wasn’t unusual that we had differences from time to time as we were each five years apart. My parents however, used to fight horribly almost daily and unfortunately, my brothers and I were the main witnesses. These fights normally ended with my dad breaking something and leaving the house furious and my mom crying and cursing out loud in our presence.

My mom used to get very irritable and suffered from severe episodes of depression, she vented her frustration on us and exploited at the smallest detail by hitting us or saying things a child should not hear. After these episodes, she got full of remorse and promised us that it wouldn’t happen again. It didn’t matter how much we loved our parents and the fact that we understood that not everything could be perfect, we knew it would happen again. It was a vicious circle full of tension.

You might be wondering, why do I tell you all of this? Well, I think it’s important. I’ve heard some people say that a negative environment attracts negative things, but to be honest, I’m not sure if it applies in this case. Yes, my parents had trouble but I always felt that these issues were intensified by whatever thing it was in that house. Trust me, It’s not easy for me to recall all of these bad memories, but I really need to get it off my chest. There is something that up until today I can’t get out of my head, and that is the terror I experienced whenever I was on the second floor and mostly, near those stairs.

Have you ever entered friend’s or stranger’s house and gotten a heavy suffocating vibe? Well, that’s the kind of feeling I got whenever I went downstairs. I can’t tell you when It started, I had that feeling since I can remember. It was just there.

I had a golden rule: To never get near that area when it got dark. Luckily for me (not), I woke up almost every night due to biological necessities. I couldn’t stand going to the bathroom on my own because outside my bedroom you could see the edge of the stairs, and that freaked me out, so I had no choice but to wake my older sister up who unwillingly joined me. I wasn’t inconsiderate, let me be clear. She used to do the same to me. Being together gave us a false sense of protection.

I can’t fully explain how I felt whenever I was near those stairs, the TV room or my parents’ bedroom but it wasn’t pleasant. I felt watched, stalked, and unwelcome. I felt somebody was following me. I felt there was something there, something that wanted to harm me badly. I fell off those stairs more times that I can remember even though I tried to be extremely careful; I can’t find a rational explanation for those occurrences. I remember this one time, my sister and I prepared a puppet show in the balcony, it was my mom’s birthday and we wanted to surprise her, so we basically covered up the balcony and its metal railing with a thick blanket. We got two small plastic chairs and sat down while we extended our arms so you could only see the puppets from the other side. I was in the middle of the balcony, when suddenly I felt like my chair was being pushed to the edge, I freaked out but before I could react, the chair reached the edge and slipped making me fall off the stairs and hurting my coccyx badly. My mother blamed my sister, but I knew she wasn’t guilty. When I tried to explain what had happened, my mom told me to stop trying to defend her by making stuff up and telling me I had an overactive imagination. I wasn’t lying. Something had pushed me and it wasn’t my sister.

I had nightmares almost every night. The funny thing is that my nightmares consisted of almost the same things, with slight variations. It always started with me waking up at night with an extreme thirst. When I headed to the kitchen for water, I stopped to watch a curious porcelain doll with dark hair and a white dress in the balcony. When I got close to her, I noticed one of her arms move and an evil glint in her eyes; at that moment I realized that something was not right. Something was inside that doll and whatever it was, it wanted me.

Terror filled me over, I knew it was coming for me, and if I wanted to live, I had to run and reach my bedroom. Only then I would be safe. That’s what I did. I ran desperately but I couldn’t run fast as my legs did not respond like they were supposed to. Some nights I reached my bedroom and I was safe, it couldn’t touch me, but most times, it reached me, dragging me downstairs and tearing me into pieces. Every night I woke up drenched in sweat and full of tears. It was horrible.

I wasn’t the only one that felt something was wrong. My brother had a lot of problems sleeping and he told us that night after night he could hear someone playing the piano on the second floor. We didn’t have a piano, and our house was far away from the rest, so we could not hear our neighbors and let’s be honest, that didn’t make any sense. My sister, could not stand being downstairs when it was dark either and even less in my parents’ bedroom, she claimed that she heard strange noises or had the light suddenly turn off by itself and my mom (who was a religious in almost an extreme level) decided that the best thing to do was to find a priest so he could bless the house, and so he did. But that didn’t stop it.

Strangely, I remember we mentioned all of these things between us in a vague manner but we never questioned why these happened. We didn’t like to talk much about it, in my case, I though the less we spoke of the matter in its entirety, the better. I didn’t like thinking about it and pretended everything was ok. But it was not.

As time passed, my parents fought more constantly, and my nightmares grew worse. I remember vividly one dream in which my father was lost. We were desperately looking for him all over the house, and I thought I had lost the battle when I found a hidden, long corridor in the closet of my parents’ bedroom. Once followed, I would run into a dusty trunk. Opening it, I found a smaller box, and inside, was my father, cut into pieces… within me I knew someone or something in that house had killed him and it would come for us next. I remember I woke up crying and shaking and went directly to check on my dad, but he wasn’t home. I went outside, and I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. His car was completely smashed. It turns out he had an accident when trying to leave the house and he was in the hospital. Fortunately, there were no complications and he was back with us the next day.

Anyway, I think I’m losing track here. My point is: there was definitely something in that house, something I can’t quite explain, something evil and it was clear that it didn’t want us there. There were so many things that happened in that house, many of them scared the hell out of me, but among all of them, there was one particular event that marked me completely.

I was around ten years old; I woke up as usual late at night, this time due to an extreme thirst. I wanted a glass of water but I didn’t want to go alone to the kitchen so, as always, I turned to my sister to go along with me. This time though, it was different. No matter how many times I tried, she did not wake up, she just ignored me. I was scared but I couldn’t stand the thirst, besides, my throat was raspy. I decided to go the kitchen alone and made up my mind not to look to the balcony/stairs section when I got back to my room.

Believe me, I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to drink water that much; I took the biggest cup I could find, filled it all the way to the top and drank it all almost in a single gulp. I then headed back to my room but once I reached the hallway I stood still as an eerie feeling overtook me. I could clearly feel someone watching me from behind, I remained still for a few seconds before turning around slowly to meet the balcony. Everything was dark so I couldn’t see very well but I had the impression that someone was standing at the foot of the stairs. I was paralyzed, and I had to be hallucinating, but how could I? I was definitely wide awake so I had to make sure… with all my willpower, I moved a little closer to the stairs.

I turned pale. It was not my imagination. Somebody was standing there. I froze, I could not move. I started having problems breathing.

It was a woman. Her skin was pale, grayish, she had long dark hair and had a long white dress. She looked like the doll of my nightmares. She was staring right at me; her eyes were white in their entirety, she was sort of grinning. I could not believe nor did I want to believe what I was seeing. That moment for me, seemed eternal… before I could find out what to do, she contorted in a fast and horrible way, her right arm went disjointed and I heard her bones creak. As soon as this happened I ran as fast as I could back to my bedroom, slammed the door and took my hand to my chest as I felt like my heart was about to explode.

I started crying hysterically, made sure the door was closed and got into my bed. I kept on looking at the door, fearing it would burst open, and thinking she was coming for me. But nothing happened, at least for a few minutes. I kept on staring towards the door when suddenly, to my horror, I heard the knob move and saw the door opening slowly. I couldn’t stop crying, terrified, but I didn’t dare to scream, move or say a word. However, no woman entered, nobody accessed my room. I just waited, scared shitless but nothing happened. I couldn’t sleep all night.

I wanted to, but couldn’t tell my mom. I knew what she would say, that I was making it up, that I had an overactive imagination. I couldn’t tell my sister, I didn’t want to scare her, she was afraid enough already. I wanted to, but I didn’t tell anyone and kept it all to myself. I did not understand. I tried to deny that it ever happened, but I couldn’t stop thinking about it. It became part of me and it tormented me, every night in my dreams. She came for me, she tortured me and laughed at my suffering.

A couple of months later, one of my cousins came for vacation. He spent the night on the couch down in the TV room. The next day when we all woke up, we found him in the kitchen wandering. He was shaking, his face was pale; he had dark circles under his eyes. It was obvious he did not sleep. When we asked him what had happened and heard his reply, I felt like I was going to pass out.

“There was a woman standing on the stairs,” was all he managed to say.

After a while when he was calmed, he described to us in full detail the same woman I saw months before. I knew then I wasn’t losing my mind. She was real. But I never understood.

We moved from that house and left the city a year later, not because to this but due to my dad’s job. Unfortunately, my brother did not. He spent six more his university and settled down with his girlfriend. He lived there until he couldn’t stand it anymore. He moved in with us after that and told me he was afraid of it, he did not want to go back to it, he told me he saw horrible things and whenever I asked him what those were, he went mute. I never knew what he meant. I never knew what he went through, but he was clearly traumatized by it. He was never the same. I regret it still, not being there for him, to have left him alone when we moved out.

The house is currently abandoned and I haven’t been there in more than ten years—and believe me, I don’t intend on going back. This might sound weird but the other day I was talking to one of my best friends about this matter, and he told me that there might be something/someone buried in that house. When he told me that I felt the chills. That would explain a lot.

We were a broken family but even still, we loved and took care of each other. I like to think that the being that habited that house did not hurt us physically because of this. But it almost reached that level.

Up until today, sometimes I still ask myself: Who was that woman and what did she want? Why was she tormenting us?

I don’t think I’ll ever have the answer and I don’t really want to know.

Credit To – Raventth

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August 18, 2015 at 12:00 AM
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Monsters. Fucking monsters. Yeah, I know, they aren’t real. It’s always a dude in a suit or someone playing joke. Well, that is all bullshit. I saw one and I know it was real… cause it saw me too. Might as well start from the beginning.
My older brother was a dick. Always getting what he wanted and blaming me for the stuff he did wrong. Our dad, only parent we lived with, would believe him instantly. I’m not bitter about it, but it is still a sore spot. I was rather skilled with technology and computers, my brother was more inclined to manual labor and punching people. Though we look almost alike enough to be twins, he is a year older.
My father would spend a lot of time out, hitting on women and drinking. Every night he was out, my brother would go to his friend’s house a mile or two away from our place. Since we lived in a small town, just out of range for most cellphones and a good hour from any police station or civilization other than the post office/general store, we were one of 5 houses in a 4 mile radius down in a valley.
If you cannot tell, this is gonna be something no one can corroborate. Anyway, one of those nights when my father was drinking and my brother was off doing something with his friends I was sleeping on the couch in the living room. I had a hard time sleeping in my room in the basement when home alone. Just some personal issues with small spaces and no windows. This night helped get me over that.
The TV was going, something stupid on Adult Swim playing, and I woke up to a weird sound from the door. My brother would get drunk or high and wander home around 3-4am most times he went out but it was only midnight when I looked over at the clock. Thinking he had a fight with his friends or something, I hop up from the couch and tug my pants into place since they were a a little too big for me.
So I walked, no shirt or socks or anything to the door and looked through the peep hole. Nothing out there. With a shrug, I think it was a dog and walk back to the couch. The moment I sit down, looking at the TV a moment before something catches my eye. Outside the window was a rather small shadow. Probably the dog that has been pawing at my door.
I give a sigh, thinking about how that mutt could take a crap on the porch and I would have to clean it. I walk back to the door, glancing at the window the moment my fingers touched the knob. Every cell in my body locked up, freezing me in place. My skin started shivering, goosebumps formed on every inch of me as I tried in vein to move my body on will alone. I could not process this… thing for a full minute.
Long, thin and slinky, it was not a fucking dog. Scales instead of fur covered it, black with some grayed ones here and there. It’s tail made up so much of it’s body that it looked as if it had begun right behind the only two limbs it had. Hands… not paws were at the ends of its arms. But the arms.. Those fucking arms were wrong in so many ways. They had what looked like 3 elbows. The arms curved in a few different ways, making it look broken and bent. I could only see those hands because they pressed to the glass of the window… along with its face. Yes, a face. Human almost, but the thing had no lips. just a slit across the spot above its jaw. They eyes were solid black and the nose was just a bump with one hole toward the bottom. It looked like someone had taken a blank doll and cared a : | face into it…
It was just as still as I was, looking right at me while I held the door knob. I thought it was some kind of joke. Some kind of trick of the light, but the longer I stared at it, the less I could deny it was alive. I could see the fog forming from its nose. The way its body inflated ever so slightly with each breath. My eyes drifted over it, looking at each feature in horror and memorizing it. Burning that fucking thing into me. Black nails, chipped and broken as if it had been using them to crawl around on. The slightest gap between the top and bottom of that slit across its face. Then I looked at its eyes. Those horrid, black beads. Perfectly round and sticking barely off of its face, I could not tell if it were moving them at all. Then it did the creepiest thing it could have. It smiled. The pale, smooth cheeks creased as its mouth arched and gave me a hint of the teeth behind it. Not full rows of razors like I had someone how expected, but broken human teeth.
My lungs were not working now. Time slowed around me as my brain got flooded with energy, bot begging me to decide on fight or flight. I hardened my gaze, eyebrows furrowed in anger at this fucking thing and it just kept smiling. I let the knob go and slowly gained the ability to stand right. As soon as I squared my shoulders with that monster, the smile slowly faded from its face. Passing all the way to a deep frown. It tapped the window one time with a broken black nail. A shudder ran through me before I could stop it. The beast gave another tap with its finger as that thick, black snake tail coiled around its self. I didn’t move this time, instead trying to think. Dad’s gun would be in the closet, but the shells were in his dresser. I would have to get to them both in seconds if I moved. That thing could come through that window easily. I knew it from the loud sounds of just one finger tapping.
Like it could see the wheels in my head turning, it spread those long fingers, raking the black nails inward. Trails of scratches formed with a high pitched sound till it made a fist against the glass. Shit. I mirrored it’s actions, not sure why, but it seemed to confuse the thing. It spread its hand open again, turning it side to side. I copied that too. It raised it’s hand up. Mine followed. The it touched its face. I cupped my cheek the same way. Then it twisted its arm into an O shape. Double shit.
When I could not copy that movement, it went back to smiling at me. Now curling and uncurling its arm as if it were mocking me for my lack of joints. This fucking thing. Not only had it caused a fear in me I had never known, but now it was teasing me? This, fucking monster freak was acting like it was better than me? Without meaning to or any form of planning, I looked it right in the eye and said, “At least I have legs.” It stopped moving its arms and looked right into my eyes. Face gone into a blank slate again. Then in the worst, deepest and most evil voice I could ever imagine, it spoke.
“And I have you.”
Diving backward into my dad’s room, I slammed the door shut and ran for the gun. The closet door slid hard to the side, slamming loudly while blood rushed through my body. My fingers gripped the barrel and I all but leaped to the dresser, fishing into it with one hand and pulling three shells out. I turned to the door, stuffing them into the twelve gauge and pointing right at the center of the door. It took me maybe a minute in total once I was in the door, but I was ready. I was going to blow that thing to pieces.
I stayed there, holding the gun and waiting for five minutes. No broken glass sounds. Nothing but silence. Then I whipped around, checking both windows. Nothing again. 4 hours I stood there, ready to unload all three shells into anything that moved. 4 hours I waited to see those twisted hands reaching for me. Then the front door opened. I turned around, still pointing at the door when I heard my brother call out, “HEY! You up?”I shakily opened the door, still holding the gun. Nothing in the window and my older brother popping open a can of soda. He was not drunk or high tonight, just kinda sleepy looking when he said “Why do you have that?”
I explained what I saw, I explained what happened and I begged him to believe me. He said I was just fucking with him and went to bed, me begging him to stay up with me till morning. No dice. So I sat on the couch, shotgun in hand, looking at that same window till my dad got home the next day. He didn’t believe me either. I slept in my room, no windows and only one door all day, and the next night I stayed down there. I couldn’t go into that living room again for weeks. My brother actually stayed with me all night one night, showing me there wasn’t a damn thing to be afraid of.
I don’t know what people have told you or even what you believe. But there are things out there. There are things that want you hurt. There are things that can and will toy with you just for the fun of it. My advice, get a gun and a bunker cause that is as close to safe as I feel most nights.

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