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All My Friends Are Dead

Estimated reading time — 21 minutes

Part 1

All my friends are dead. Don’t take that the wrong way though. I can’t say I knew any of them when they were still alive. Well, at least most of them anyway.

I guess I’m what you could call a psychic. I’ve never liked that word though. I can’t read anyone’s mind, see in to the future, or make things levitate. All I can do is see ghosts.


I have had the ability for as long as I can remember. I didn’t know exactly what it was when I was younger. I just knew that I could see people that others couldn’t.

I don’t think my parents ever really believed me. I was pulled out of public schools in kindergarten because of “focusing” issues. The truth is I was a bit distracted, but it was because of the kids that no one else could see. They wanted someone to play with too. They had been there a while, and I was the first person that could see them.

After that incident, my parents decided to homeschool me. My parents were somewhat wealthy, so they were able to hire a teacher to come to our home since they were busy at work during the day.

Mrs. Thornwell was the worst. She was wrinkled and had patchy white hair. Of course she carried that typical old person smell with her. To be fair she was a good teacher, but she was incredibly strict. There was no fun to be had with Mrs. Thornwell. She wasn’t dead either, at least not yet.

I lived quite a sheltered life growing up. My parents almost never let me leave the house. I was given almost every toy or item I could ever want, but it meant nothing since I had no friends. They thought that something was wrong with me. Probably due to the fact that everywhere I went I was like the kid from the 6th sense, because “I see dead people.”

That came to a halt when I was 17. My parents were in a brutal car crash with no survivors on either side. They didn’t stay behind either. It was a bittersweet realization knowing my parents had passed on to whatever afterlife instead of staying as ghosts. Maybe they didn’t believe me, and they had over-protected me my whole life, but I never doubted that they loved me.


Since I was 17 I was caught in a bit of an odd situation. I wasn’t quite an adult yet, but I wasn’t really a kid anymore either. Luckily my parents had some connections when they were alive, and I was given emancipation almost immediately.

I was given my parent’s savings. I won’t say how much it was, but it was quite a decent sum. After some calculations, I realized that if I managed my money right I could easily live off the money for the rest of my life.

Just to be safe I decided to sell of my family’s estate. It was a much bigger home than I would ever need. If anything the upkeep would be more than it was worth to me. It would also boost my emergency funds to sell it, so I did.

I bought an older home on the edge of my city. It was incredibly cheap, so I knew there were probably issues with the home, but I didn’t really care.

It was a 2 story home, and it had a basement. Still more room than I needed, but the price had been cheaper than essentially everything else I looked at. From the outside it looked like the house had lived through a war or two. The inside wasn’t terrible though. Nothing seemed to be breaking down. Water and electricity worked with no issues everywhere. Well, everywhere except the basement. I chose not to go down there. I got an ominous feel from it.

It took less than a day of living in my new home to realize I wasn’t alone.

I was reading a book on my couch in the living room. I thought I saw something out of the corner of my eye, so I looked up. Directly next to me was seated a man. He looked to be about 20 years old, and he was dressed in an older style of clothing.

“Hello?” I said questioningly.

This seemed to catch him off-guard. He even jumped back a bit in surprise.

“Oh, you can see me!?” He said.

“Why wouldn’t I be able to see you? You were practically hanging over my shoulder while I was trying to read.”

“Uh…Sorry about that. You’re alive though, and I’m kinda not. Living people can never see me.”

“Yeah I guess I’m a little special. Looks like we’re going to be housemates from now on, so get used to it. I’m Devin, and you?” I said this as I extended my hand.

After a moment of staring at my hand he seemed to finally remember what he was supposed to do. He grabbed my hand with a giant smile and began to shake it.

“Name’s Sam, pleasure to meet you!” He replied.

Sam was the first, but not the only guest I would discover in my home. Sam was the most curious though, and probably still the most human. He had died of a brain aneurysm. He wasn’t quite ready to move on yet though, so he stayed behind. There had been so much life that he had been robbed of, and he couldn’t accept moving on.

Sam and I became quick friends. We had both been somewhat sheltered growing up, and neither of us had really had a chance to explore the world. We talked about our dreams, and things we wanted to do. I suppose there is still a chance for me to do the things I want, but Sam isn’t quite as lucky.

After the first couple days of being in the house I almost assumed that Sam was the only ghost living with me, but you know what they say about people who assume.

I was lying in bed late one night, and just as I was about to fall asleep I heard something. It sounded like running water. I hopped out of bed and made my way towards the source of the noise. It was coming from the kitchen.

“Sam?” I called out.

As I got closer I noticed that there was someone washing dishes in the sink, but it wasn’t Sam. It was a somewhat stocky woman. She was short, and looked to be in her 40’s. She turned to me as I drew nearer.

“If you’re going to live here you need to clean up after yourself. This is unacceptable!” She said pointing towards the pile of dishes in the sink.

“Sorry, I didn’t think it would be an issue.”

“Didn’t think it would be an issue? You aren’t the only person in this household. Please try to be considerate of the mess you are leaving behind for others!” She scolded me. She turned back around and continued to wash my dirty dishes.

I was about to apologize more sincerely when I felt a hand on my shoulder. It was Sam.

“Don’t worry about her, that’s Emilia. She only shows up when someone makes a mess. As long as you pick up after yourself it won’t be a problem. You do not want to see her bad side though.” He said this with a bit of a chuckle at the end.

Now that I thought about it, the house had been incredibly clean when I moved in. There had been no dust or cobwebs anywhere for a house that was this old. I guess I had just thought that the realtor was doing the upkeep.

I made a mental note to not make any messes, and went back to bed.

I woke up the next morning to find my dishes were all clean, and Emilia was nowhere to be found. Sam was waiting for me on my couch. I sat next to him and we began to have one of our daily casual conversations.

Midway through our conversation I began to hear noises coming from below. It was obviously coming from the basement. Sam noticed my discomfort.

“There’s something I should tell you about the basement. I’m sure you could sense it, but there’s something down there. It’s not like me or Emilia though.” He said.

“What is it then?” I asked.

“I’m not entirely sure. It was here before I was, and I’ve been here a while. As long as you keep it fed it will stay down there.”

“Keep it fed? What is that supposed to mean?”

“Well you aren’t going to like this, but it feeds on animals. They have to be alive, or freshly dead. It’s best if you can find roadkill shortly after it happens, then you don’t have to feel bad about it.”

“You’re joking right?”

“I wish I was. It’s actually kind of a good thing you moved in. It’s been a while since it has fed, and if it doesn’t get fed it will begin to look for something on its own.”

“So it’s my job to keep whatever is done there fed?”

“Yeah…Sorry for not telling you about it sooner. It had been so long since I had been around a living person I almost forgot. If you can’t find any roadkill around here I’d suggest you go buy some mice at a pet store. They don’t scream as loud.”

I was in disbelief. I had sensed there was something terrible in my basement, but I had hoped I could just ignore it. I guess that wasn’t an option.

I could have packed my bags and left then, but that would have meant leaving whatever was in the basement to potentially roam free. Not to mention I enjoyed being around my new friend Sam, even if he wasn’t alive.

I frantically began to scour the neighborhood for any signs of roadkill. I found an unfortunate cat that hat met its end, but it looked to be a few days old. According to Sam that wouldn’t be fresh enough. I would need something alive, or something that had been dead less than 4 hours.

I gave up and took Sam’s advice. I bought some live field mice from a pet store. They eyed me with their beady black eyes the whole way home. If only they knew their fate.

When I returned home the sounds emanating from the basement were even louder, and more frequent. There was what sounded like a deep grunting, and things being thrown around.

Sam was waiting for me at the front door. He eyed the mice I was holding and nodded.

“Good, you should probably hurry. I recommend keeping your eyes down when you go down there. The less you see the better.”

His words didn’t exactly reassure me. Nonetheless, I began to make my way towards the basement. The sounds only grew louder as I approached the door leading downwards.

When I opened the door, the noises seemed to stop. The path down was pitch black. I could just barely make out each step with the aid of help from the hallway light, and I couldn’t see any switch or string to turn on light. Perhaps it was better this way.

I slowly began to descend one step at a time. Every step creaked, making me want throw the container of mice and run back upwards. Somehow I made it to the end though. I almost wondered if the thing in the basement had just left, because there had been no noise whatsoever other than the creaking and the mice occasionally squealing.

I set the container of mice on the floor of the basement and took a step back up. In an instant an enormous black hand extended out of the darkness and ripped the container out of sight. I heard a large crack, and then I heard the mice begin to squeal even louder.

I sprinted back up the stairs, but before I reached the top I heard a loud crunch as the squealing ceased. I slammed the door shut and looked up to see Sam once again waiting for me.

“What the fuck is that thing?” I demanded.

“I told you, I’m not entirely sure. That should keep it satisfied for at least a week or two though.”

“Are there any other things I should know about this house?” I asked hoping for him to say no.

Sam frowned at this question.

“You should stay clear of the attic.”

Part 2

“What’s in the attic?” I asked Sam. To be completely honest I didn’t even know there had been an attic. I hadn’t been upstairs at all other than to have a quick look.

“I can’t tell you, for personal reasons. As long as you don’t go up there you won’t have to worry about it though. You don’t have to feed it like our basement dweller.” He replied.

“Why can’t you tell me? Are you hiding something?”

“We all have our secrets, and this is one you do not want to know about. Just trust me on this one.”

Before I had a chance to respond Sam had disappeared in to thin air. Must be nice to be able to escape from an argument like that. Vanish in to thin air when things start to get heated. To be fair he did have to die to obtain that power.

Sam hadn’t really led me astray so far, but he did take his time mentioning what was in the basement. He seemed much more cautious about the attic. After only seeing part of what was in the basement, it made me wonder what kind of monster could be in the attic. It was my house now though; don’t I have the right to know?

I spent all day pondering whether or not I should heed Sam’s advice. He hadn’t shown back up, so I assume he was giving me time to cool down after my basement experience. I still wasn’t even sure where the entrance to the attic was. A little exploration couldn’t hurt, could it?

I ventured upstairs. The entrance to the attic wasn’t in the hallway, so it must have been in one of the two bedrooms.

Sure enough, I found the ladder leading upwards in one of the closets of the bedrooms. I gazed up at the entrance. My heart began to beat much faster than normal. Maybe I really shouldn’t go up there. The curiosity was killing me though. I gripped the ladder while continuing to weigh out my options. Before I could decide I heard a voice from behind me.

“You’re not supposed to go up there.”

I turned around to see a small girl in front of me. She had long black hair and bright blue eyes. She looked to be about 8 or so. I felt a quick wave of sorrow, because I knew this young girl in front of me was dead.

I knelt down in front of her.

“And who are you?” I asked.

“I’m Elizabeth, but you can call me Lizzy!” She said with a giggle.

“Well Lizzy, why am I not supposed to go in the attic?”

“Because Sam would be mad if you did. No one is allowed in the attic.”

“Do you know what’s in the attic?”

“No. Sam told me no one is allowed up there because it’s scary. I don’t like scary things.” As she said this she began to look down and cover her eyes as if she was remembering something scary. If I wasn’t so caught up in what was in the attic I would have thought it was cute.

I patted Lizzy on the head in an attempt to calm her down.

“Well this is my house now Lizzy. I need to find out what’s so scary about the attic. You wait here. I’m going to get to the bottom of this.”

Lizzy didn’t seem entirely certain about my idea, but she couldn’t exactly stop me either. I had made up my mind. Sam was hiding something in the attic, and I needed to find out what it was.

I turned back around and headed back towards the ladder. I was surprised that Sam hadn’t shown up himself to try and stop me. He had told me not to go up to the attic, so it made me wonder why he wasn’t here now.

I shrugged off the thought and began to climb the ladder. Once I was almost to the top of the ladder I was able to peek my head in to the attic.

There was a light attached to a string in the center of the room. This would have struck me as normal, except that the light was already on. I had never been to the attic before, and there’s no telling how long it had been since anyone had been up here. So how the hell was there a light still burning?

Other than the light, the attic seemed empty. Not only was it empty, but unlike the rest of the house it was dirty. There were cobwebs in the corners, and dust almost everywhere. It seems even Emilia wasn’t allowed up here.

I was really confused when I finally made it completely in to the attic, because it really was empty. I had expected some sort of ferocious beast to jump out and maul me, but that hadn’t happened. I decided to take a quick walk around the attic before heading back down.

As I was crossing the floor it hit me. I was struck with the most intense headache of my entire life. It was so strong that I feel to my knees in pain. My head felt like it was going to explode. I was so caught up in my pain that it took me a few seconds to realize there was someone in front of me now.

It was a middle-aged woman. I didn’t pay close attention to her face, because I was busy staring at the giant gash on her neck. It looked as if it was still bleeding. Blood slowly dripping down her body.

She began to reach out towards me, and I flung myself backwards. As I did this two more figures seemed to have emerged from nowhere and began to approach me. They were drenched in blood. The pounding in my head only seemed to intensify, but I needed to get out.

I began to put all my effort in to crawling back to the attic ladder. The bloody ghosts continued to follow me across the room, but despite the massive headache, they didn’t seem exactly hostile.


I didn’t care whether they were hostile or not. I wanted nothing to do with them. Once I reached the ladder I flung myself down head first. I was able to grab on to one of the rungs to absorb some of the momentum from my fall, but I wasn’t able to hang on for long. I fell down the rest of the ladder and landed on my back. It was extremely painful, but it was nothing compared to the headache I had had up there. Speaking of the headache, that had stopped.

I took one last glance at the hole in the attic. I saw the woman I had first seen, who had her throat slit. She mouthed one word to me before disappearing. I’m not entirely sure what it was, but I think she said “Help.”

I rolled over on to my stomach. The pain in my back from the fall was starting to sting now. It didn’t seem too bad, but it stung like hell. After a few minutes of recovering I was able to get back up on my feet.

When I exited the closet I found that someone was waiting for me, but it wasn’t Lizzy. No, it was Sam. He didn’t look happy either. He was stood there with his arms crossed like a parent about to give a lecture.

“I told you not to go up there.” He said.

“Yeah well I guess I forgot. Kinda like how you forgot to tell me what was in the basement. Did you have something to do with what was up there?”

He took a deep sigh.

“No, I was already dead when that happened. I watched it happen though.”

“And what exactly happened?”

“He…Well, he killed them. If that wasn’t obvious. He was a middle-aged man, quite attractive too. He would lure them back to the house, then he would drug them. Even he sensed the basement was off limits, so he operated in the attic. He wasn’t in the home long, but he sure was busy. It was gruesome.”

It took a moment for this all to sink in. So, apparently there had been a serial killer in my home. Not to mention the monster in the basement. Not only had people died in this home, some were murdered.

“Well, is he dead now? He’s not one of the ghosts here is he?” I questioned.

“No, I imagine he’s still alive. Unless he was in some kind of accident somewhere else. He did his business here, and he left.”

That didn’t exactly reassure me. A psychopath that had lived in my home was still on the loose out there. I suppose he could have been arrested, but the ghosts in my attic seemed to think otherwise.

“I’ll ask you one more time Sam, is there anything else I should know about this house?”

“Well as far as the threatening guests of this house I think that’s it. There are a few others of us that you haven’t met yet, but none of them are violent.”

As he finished saying this we both turned as we heard a noise.

It was a knock coming from my front door.

Part 3

I went to answer my front door, because that’s what normal people do when someone knocks. It had startled me a bit at first, but it was most likely just a neighbor or something. My closest neighbor was about half a block away. Perhaps they decided to finally make the journey to come meet the person who moved in to the creepy old home on the block.

However, when I opened the door I was a bit surprised. I was surprised because I recognized the person on the other side. It was Mrs. Thornwell, my homeschool teacher. Before I had a chance to say anything she pushed her way past me in to my home.

“So this is where you’ve been living. I was a bit surprised when I heard you sold your parent’s home and moved in to this dump. I suppose the inside isn’t so bad. Much cleaner than I expected from you.” She said.

“Uhhh, what are you doing here Mrs. Thornwell? I’m already finished with school.”

“I came to check on you of course. I heard the terrible news about your parents, and I came to see how my old pupil was doing.”

“Well as you can see I’m doing fine. I was kind of in the middle of something if…” I didn’t get the chance to finish my sentence because Mrs. Thornwell had already taken off in to exploring my home. What’s the deal with old people always criticizing younger generations for manners, but yet feeling like they are entitled to everything?

She explored the rooms on the first floor despite my opposition. Then she attempted to open the door leading to the basement, but I pushed it back and held it. Preventing her from opening the door.

“You can’t go down there.” I said.

“Why not, are you hiding something down there? Is it drugs? I always knew you would grow in to an addict. Let me see so I can help you.”

Her words caught me a bit off guard. She thought I would become an addict? Perhaps I had been a bit weird growing up because of my ability, but I was not a druggie. I was actually a bit offended. So, I removed my hand from the door. I had just recently fed the thing in the basement, so perhaps it wouldn’t take her anyway.

“Fine, take a look for yourself.” I said.

She made a satisfied grunt, and began her descent in to the basement.

She turned on her phone flashlight to guide her. Once she made it to the bottom she began to look around.

“Now where is the light switch down here. Oh my, what is th-” She didn’t even have time to finish what she was about to say before it grabbed her. Her screams only lasted a second as it quickly put her out of her misery. Even after I shut the door I could still hear the sound of bones crunching. For selfish reason I hoped she wouldn’t come back as a ghost, at least not in my house.

“Well on the bright side you won’t have to feed it for a while. That should probably keep it satisfied at least a couple months, maybe more.” Sam commented from behind me.

It was fucked up given the situation, but I couldn’t help but let out a short chuckle. I’m sure there are thousands if not millions of kids who would like to feed their teacher to a monster, but I had actually done it. Curiosity killed the cat after all. I wonder if she still thinks I’ll be an addict in the afterlife.

“So…What now?” I asked Sam.

“What do you mean? I think everything is pretty well sorted out now. You know to keep the thing in the basement fed, and stay out of the attic. Things can go back to normal now.” He replied.

“Back to normal? There is a monster in my basement, and there are dead girls trapped in my attic because their murderer is still on the loose. Not to mention the only people I interact with are all dead. How is any of this normal?”

Sam raised his finger as if he was about to respond, but instead he just disappeared again. Of course he did. Gotta love when your best friend is a ghost.

I decided to peek out my front window to see if anyone had been alarmed by the short scream from my basement. There was no one out there, but Mrs. Thornwell’s car was parked out front. Great, how does one dispose of a car?

I put on some old clothes and gloves. I took the car a decent distance away from my home, and parked it somewhere that didn’t appear to have any cameras. I walked for a while to put some distance between myself and the car, and then I called for an Uber. Once I got back home I immediately burned the clothing I had on. I knew I had seen on crime shows that people always were getting caught by carpet fibers, so I wasn’t taking any risks. I just had to hope she hadn’t told anyone that she was coming to see me.

When I got home I decided to start some research. I felt almost obligated to help the girls in my attic. No one else could see them. It was possible that I might be the only person who could help them. That meant trying to track down a serial killer on my own though.

After spending several hours looking through online articles, I was finally able to find what I was looking for. Three girls who had all gone missing within 3 months. All were single middle-aged women. I recognized the one in the first picture as the one who had her throat slit. I’m sure the other two girls were the other ones in my attic, but I hadn’t really had a good look at their faces since I had been desperately trying to escape.

I put my head in my hands. Well, I had confirmed who was in my attic, but how was I supposed to track their killer? There was no telling where he could be.

“I can tell you who he is you know. You just can’t go to the police. He didn’t leave behind any evidence, so they would just think you were crazy.” Sam said this, magically appearing next to me on my couch.

“You know who the killer is?”

“Of course, he would leave his wallet out while he operated. I couldn’t exactly tell anyone about him either though. I can tell you his name if you really want to know, but I’m not sure you know what you are getting yourself in to.”

“You’re probably right, but I’m too invested to back out now. Even if this ends poorly, I have to at least try. Tell me his name.”


Sam then proceeded to tell me the serial killer’s name, and he was right. I really had no clue what I was getting myself in to.

Part 4

Sam told me the name of the serial killer. I had expected to hear the name of someone I had never known, but I was wrong. No, the name I heard was quite familiar. That’s because the name he said was that of my fathers.

That couldn’t be right though. My father couldn’t be a serial killer. On top of that, he was already dead. I had attended his funeral. I had seen him in his casket. He was very much dead. So then why was Sam trying to tell me the man who had killed the girls in my attic was my father.

“Is this some sort of sick joke?” I asked a bit angrily.

“What do you mean? You wanted to know his name. That was the name on the license in his wallet.” Same replied a bit puzzled at my sudden temper.

“That’s impossible. The name you said is my dad’s name, and he’s already dead.”

Sam didn’t seem too surprised my response at all. He simply began to scratch his cheek while he responded.

“I guess he did kind of look like you now that I think about it. I told you he was living when he left here. I wasn’t absolutely certain he was still alive.”

“If my dad was the killer, then why would the ghosts in the attic still be so pissed off?”

“Why do you expect me to understand them? I’m not the same as them. Perhaps they don’t know. They can’t exactly watch the news.”

“So what am I supposed to do? Go up there and tell them that I’m sorry my father murdered them, but he’s dead now?”

“I’m not sure, that’s for you to figure out.” Sam said this while shrugging.

As much as I hated it, Sam was right. This was my problem. I still wasn’t convinced that my father was the killer though. I needed some direct evidence. I thought it would be worth a shot to visit my father’s grave.

I’m not sure how many people can relate, but for those of us who can see the dead, a graveyard is the last place you want to go. I still remember during my parent’s funeral that there were far too many uninvited guests looking on. I still hadn’t been back to my parent’s graves since that day.

This was a necessary trip though. Even if I gained nothing. I still needed to try. I decided to make the trip at night. I do think there is some merit to the theory that ghosts are more active in the dark. Plus, if my father was a serial killer, I didn’t want anyone to overhear the conversation I would be having with him should he appear.

I pulled in to the parking lot just after midnight. There didn’t seem to be any other cars there. I exited my car and made my way to the entrance. Just standing at the front gate I could tell there were dozens of eyes fixed on me. I did my best to ignore them and pushed forward.

I kept my eyes down on my journey to my parent’s graves. I didn’t hear anyone attempt to follow me, but I could feel the eyes staring holes through me. It’s true I had been living in a home with who knows how many ghosts, but being in a graveyard was a different feeling entirely. It was almost overwhelming, but I had to keep pushing forward.

After a grueling walk that seemed to last forever, I finally reached the two graves side by side that contained my parents. I stood in front of the one containing my father, and I knelt down.

“Hey Dad, it’s been a little while. Maybe you know why I’m here. Did you do it? Did you kill those girls?” I said this to the grave. I didn’t really expect anything, but I guess I was hoping for some response of some kind. I didn’t get one though, at least not from him anyway.

“He’s not going to respond kid. He didn’t stay behind. Guess he didn’t feel like answering anyone’s questions.” A voice said.

I shot my eyes up immediately to look at where the voice had come from. A couple rows back sitting on top of a grave was a man. He looked somewhat familiar, but I couldn’t place him. He seemed to be grinning from ear to ear.

“Who are you, did you know my father?” I asked.

“Well I guess you could say I’m family, in a way. So of course I knew your father. It seems you didn’t really know him that well though huh.” He responded.

“What are you trying to say?”

“Isn’t it obvious? You came here for answers. I’m just trying to help you understand.”

“So my father did kill those girls?”

“Yes, and not just them. There were others too. Your father was quite the diligent worker. He really had to be. It was part of the deal after all.”

“What are you talking about? What deal?”

“Where do you think your wealth came from? Your father was a dead-end wage worker before he met me. When your mother became pregnant he was desperate for a change. I offered him that change, for a price of course. All he had to do was kill someone for me every so often. He decided he wanted out though, so I gave him an early retirement.” The man said all this so nonchalantly that it was chilling. I wasn’t sure what to think. I felt numb. Was he telling the truth? Was this man the Devil?

“Why are you telling me all this?” I finally managed to stutter out.

“Well you see, as much as I appreciated your father’s hard work, our contract is still unfulfilled. You inherited his wealth, and as a result, you also inherited the rest of his contract.” The man said with an even bigger grin than before.

“I don’t know what kind of deal you made with my father, and I don’t care. Kill me if you want, but I won’t accept your contract.” I said this as I turned and began walking out of the graveyard.

I expected the man to pursue me, or at least say something, but he didn’t. I made it out of the graveyard without seeing him again. I couldn’t imagine he was done with me though.

That assumption was correct. When I made it home and walked in my front door it wasn’t Sam who was waiting for me on my couch. It was the man.

“Nice place you have here. Quite a few freeloaders. Maybe you should make them start paying rent.” He said as he laughed at his own joke.

“How do I make you go away?” I said bluntly.

“Well if you don’t want to continue your father’s contract, there is another way out.”

“And that is?”

“You die. If you die there is no one left to take on the contract since you have no children. Other than that you are stuck with me.”

I considered this for a second.

“Can you give me a day to consider my options?” I said.

“Certainly. I will give you 24 hours. Once I return I’ll expect to see your corpse, or the promise that you will deliver me someone else’s corpse.” He once again smiled after his statement, and then he disappeared before me.

I had already made up my mind, but I wanted him to leave. I had no intentions of being the puppet of some demon. Despite letting my teacher get devoured, I wouldn’t consider myself a killer. My life has never held much value anyway. No one will miss me.

I plan on visiting the girls in my attic, and telling them the truth. If they want my life they can have it in place of my father. If they don’t, then I think I will finally make a trip to see what’s in the basement.

I wonder if I’ll become a ghost when I’m dead.

Credit: Devin Hoover (TwitterReddit)

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