u/Mackaroll_165

WAIT, I know that you are supposed to only supposed to post on here once every 24 hours but allow me this one crime.

I have noticed lately that the Poetry and Journal entry flairs have really been extra amazing as of late. It is so awesome to see people writing especially in a time where literacy rates and rates of reading are REPORTEDLY going down. It’s especially nice to see so much creativity. I just wanted to send some good vibes into this community and know that no matter the amount of votes, your work is appreciated. It is inspiring and never give up! 🫶

Have a nice day everyone!

Hey everyone,
I was told to write on here by a distant relative of mine. My name is Colleen Goulett. I’m the oldest of 11 kids (I know it’s a lot). I live with my younger twin brothers, Tim and Jim. My brother Harold, his wife, and my nephew are going to Greenland for a couple weeks with that distant relative I mentioned that told me to write. My brother asked me to dog sit his dog Sparky. Tim and Jim love playing with Sparky, so I said yes. I also decided to watch their cat, well what was their cat, Zoey. My parents are taking care of an older relative we call “Pappy” at the house they live at with my brother. My parents live in their basement.
Dad is trying to bring Pappy to hell with him. My dad claws through the soil trying to reach the damned. He says it calls to him like a siren song. No matter how deep he digs, he just can never reach it. Like a forgotten memory. I don’t think Pappy can die but I give my dad credit for trying. My poor mom, she’s alright. I just worry about her as she gets older but I know she’s got it.
I recently got a pet of my own. I rescued a ginger cat who I named “Petunia”. The twins love her as well and despite being a ginger cat, she’s actually very smart. She can climb well, she takes out the trash, and she can even drive but I supervise when she does. I think her and Zoey will get along super well. I got to go pick them up now. I’m bringing Petunia along. I want to show my parents. I will be back with an update on how pickup goes.

That wasn’t ideal but what is in my family. Being the oldest I am essentially the glue of the family. Many of my siblings have moved to different countries due to job opportunities, few are left in the US. However, when it comes down to it, I am the one they call for help. It’s tough but I wouldn’t have it any other way.
When I got to the house, my parents were standing outside with Zoey in a carrier and Sparky on a lease. However, Sparky had a cone on his head.
I got out of the car carrying Petunia.
“What happened to Sparks?” I asked as I approached them. I reached out to pet his chest with one hand as I held Petunia in the other.
“Sparky got into it with a deer.” My mom replied.
“Oh my goodness, well what happened to the deer?”
“Well, the deer walked into the backyard. Reasonably, Sparky gouged its eyes out before ripping it to shreds. However, one of the antlers caught him in the eye and he has a cone on because he wouldn’t stop scratching it.”
Sparky was a good dog, protecting the family. It made me sad to see him like that. I held up Petunia close to him so he could sniff her.
He let out his soft woof as always. He seemed to like her.
“Colleen, dearie. Is that your new cat you’ve been telling us about in your emails?” My mom asked.
“Yes, this is Petunia. She is a rescue. She’s an orange or as I like to say a ginger cat. She’s surprisingly smart.” I answered.
I walked over to my mom and held Petunia out. My mom scratched her chin which Petunia seemed to enjoy.
My dad stood there quietly and with his classic stoicism. He wasn’t a man of too many words, eventually he did give Petunia a couple of pats on the head after setting Zoey’s carrier down. It was then I let Petunia onto the ground so she could gradually meet Zoey at wire door of the carrier.
Zoey hissed and swatted her paws at the wire door entrance. Petunia flinched and ran behind me. I didn’t love that they got off to a bad start but maybe it was just because she was in the carrier.
I grabbed the lease from my mom and picked up Zoey’s carrier. My mom and dad helped me put them into the car.
“What’s wrong with it?” I heard a voice from behind me say.
I turned to see it was another distant relative’s daughter, Rosemarie. She was standing holding a jump rope in one hand.
“What do you mean, Rose?”
“I mean why do you have an orangutan wearing a cat ear headband?” She asked.
Kids have the craziest imaginations.
“Oh Rose, no. This is my new cat. Her name is Petunia.” I gestured Rose to pet Petunia. She hesitantly walked up to Petunia, petting her on the head before smiling and running off back to her home.
“Kids are so silly, Petunia. They don’t beat raccoons to death with their bare hands anymore. People are too sensitive now.” I said as I picked up a couple pebbles off the ground and popped them into my mouth.
I got Petunia in the car, and I got in the driver’s seat. I waved to my parents before starting the car and driving back home.
As I drove, I started to get mental messages from Pappy. Pappy only knows how to speak in French. So I will roughly translate what he emitted to me as I drove.
“You will know suffering, you have evaded many aspects of my powers by some defiance against me but you will not evade my wrath nor my chaos. I will make sure of it.” He transmitted to me.
“That’s great Pappy but I got to drive right now. Love you bye.” I said as I put on my tinfoil hat.
Pappy often sends me mental messages like that. You see, I’m kind of the odd one out of my family. I don’t look like my siblings much. It makes me feel strange. Like I’m an anomaly.
Is there something wrong with me?
Who knows?
All I know is, I can’t wait for what these next two weeks hold in store for us.

The series this is connected to: Here

The following journal entry was found in the home of 43 year old Cassandra “Cass” Petersen alongside her deceased body. Cass Petersen was a well-known author and is known best for her book, They Grow Wires from Seeds. She was found by local police after her sister, Alexandra, called in a wellness check when she hadn’t heard back from her sister in three days. Alexandra reported her sister was not doing well and her sister told her, “The CIA is outside my house. I can see their sniper on top the hill.” Be aware that Cass Petersen was unwell near the end of her life. The following may include sensitive topics or accounts for some readers, discretion is advised. You have been warned.

Cass was found dead by gunshot wound to her head. In her final days, she began “practices” that when described to her sister, the sister claimed these were atypical behaviors even given the innate paranoia Cass had. For example, one such practice was that every wall of the small home was crudely lined with tinfoil and the recycling bin was a mountain of discarded containers that held the tinfoil. Cass Petersen had even lined all of her clothes with tinfoil down to socks, shoes, and under garments. Alexandra reported feeling confused about it all and promptly ended the interview by asking for a lawyer.

When police arrived at the home, they noticed every window was smashed, little to no evidence of glass ever being in the frame. The police reported the smell emitting from the house as a mix of honey, rotten eggs, and ham.
Cass Petersen was found face down in her living room, it was estimated from the state of decomposition that she had been dead for almost 2 days. Animals that had entered her home and were found feasting on her body made it harder to discern certain details as part of her face, scalp, and most of her fingers had been eaten by opossums and raccoons. All of which had to be put down due to unusual aggression towards humans investigating the scene.

Below is the last known writing of Cass Petersen as by Alexandra confirming it was her handwriting and DNA analysis taken from the paper:

I can taste it in the tap water.
They dehydrated it and filled it with fluoride.
I only filter river and lake water now using sun rays and boiling it.
I have made protection for the 5G and microwaves they keep trying to send me.
Nice try but I know what they are trying to do.
Make me compliant, make me an animal.
I’m not an elephant or a lion at a circus.
I don’t think they have poisoned the sun yet.
I know they have the moon but that’s been poisoned since the 70s.
I know they are watching me.
I can hear their footsteps crunch the leaves.
I can hear them muttering a plan outside my home.
My only peace is my dog, Holly.
I know she can be made to turn against me as dogs have become weapons of war.
I would be lying though if I didn’t admit her soft fluffy fur and Husky-isms as I like to call them didn’t give me some semblance of joy in this war of attrition.
I also think that is why they haven’t broken in yet, Huskies are loud by nature. If something went wrong, they would scream bloody murder so loud it would wake the dead.
The government planned to train birds to guide missiles into enemies during WW2 but gave up when they made the Nuke.
I am their Nuke, they want to detonate me.
I am no weapon, I am no gun. I have nothing to fire except the truth right into the eyes and minds of the American people.
Heck even the world.
They will never find it. It’s a deadman’s switch.
The most common way to get away with murder is through falls.
Will I fall from flat ground?
Who will be my Judas and betray me for riches and glory?
I know they aren’t human.
Humans would never be so calculated.
The microwaves I fear could get in.
I’m glad I boarded the windows after I foiled them up.
It makes me feel better.
Holly is nervous and scared of the tinfoil.
The sweet thing doesn’t realize it’s protecting us.
I hope they have not begun roping my sister into this, they probably have.
They will descramble and reorganize her brain like the others.
She will become a circus performer and she won’t even know.
What if I am already in the circus?
Dear god, I hope not.
What if the worms are already hatching in my brain?
No they can’t be, I would have given up if that was the case.
Yet, I still find dust in my house.
There should be no dust.
Maybe mounds of Holly’s hair but dust?
Dust means they are in.
I must take matters into my own hands.
To my loved ones, if you are to become apart of the circus, I just hope they make you an acrobat.

Many see silence as torture.
For myself, it is a death sentence.
To be able to hear my heartbeat, means they are already too close.
I feel their approach like a stampede of cattle, shaking my body like an earthquake.
I lunge for some form of noise.
TV, radio, my phone. Anything!
As soon as sound litters the air and flows as though it is pollen in the air.
I feel the beasts slow and tire.
Noise, any noise is a lullaby.
They yawn revealing rotted teeth and gums before resting so peaceful as though they are not reapers.
They reek, the smell of cheap booze and cigarettes imbedded into their matted, dull fur.
One tries to fight the lullaby, always.
I hear him scratching at my door.
I see his shadow leak in through the bottom of my door.
His heavy breathing like a horrid chime each second.
He scratches and scratches before letting out a frustrated sigh and collapsing outside my door.
I have stared them in their blood shot eyes, seeing the vessels pop in real time from some attempting to push through the trance.
They are rabid beasts, something designed to kill when someone is completely alone.
I know I am not their first, I see fake nails lodged into their backs and various colors of hair jammed in their teeth like seasoning.
Noise keeps them away.
The louder the sound, the higher the dosage.
I would be lying if I didn’t admit that it was poisoning me as well.
Every moment, awake or asleep, sound must be the air I breathe.
The companion that guards me as the beasts patiently circle.
I am never alone.
Not in my bedroom.
Not in my sleep.
Not in the shower.
Not in the car.
Never in my home.
Noise may keep them away.
How long will it keep me together?

Many see silence as torture.
For myself, it is a death sentence.
To be able to hear my heartbeat, means they are already too close.
I feel their approach like a stampede of cattle, shaking my body like an earthquake.
I lunge for some form of noise.
TV, radio, my phone. Anything!
As soon as sound litters the air and flows as though it is pollen in the air.
I feel the beasts slow and tire.
Noise, any noise is a lullaby.
They yawn revealing rotted teeth and gums before resting so peaceful as though they are not reapers.
They reek, the smell of cheap booze and cigarettes imbedded into their matted, dull fur.
One tries to fight the lullaby, always.
I hear him scratching at my door.
I see his shadow leak in through the bottom of my door.
His heavy breathing like a horrid chime each second.
He scratches and scratches before letting out a frustrated sigh and collapsing outside my door.
I have stared them in their blood shot eyes, seeing the vessels pop in real time from some attempting to push through the trance.
They are rabid beasts, something designed to kill when someone is completely alone.
I know I am not their first, I see fake nails lodged into their backs and various colors of hair jammed in their teeth like seasoning.
Noise keeps them away.
The louder the sound, the higher the dosage.
I would be lying if I didn’t admit that it was poisoning me as well.
Every moment, awake or asleep, sound must be the air I breathe.
The companion that guards me as the beasts patiently circle.
I am never alone.
Not in my bedroom.
Not in my sleep.
Not in the shower.
Not in the car.
Never in my home.
Noise may keep them away.
How long will it keep me together?

Woah! Wait one second before you get your pitchforks out or type an essay talking about x is y or whatever else. At least allow me to explain how I got myself into this situation.
I live in northern Minnesota, or at least more northern Minnesota. I live a town equidistant to both the Fond du Lac and the Leech Lake reservations.
As many of you may or may not know (just generally depending on your knowledge of American cryptids or Native American folklore) Minnesota is home to one of the more famous cryptids for the sake of my safety we will just refer to as a “Wind Spirit” but you likely get what I am hinting at.
Despite what popular media may tell you, most times they are not anthropomorphic deer. The game Until Dawn actually has the most accurate depiction of what they look like…almost as though the people who worked on the game lived in my town for decades.
It’s eerie, they are so light footed. They don’t even make sounds when stepping on dead leaves that should make the satisfying crunching noise, the same goes for snow in the winter. They don’t even leave footprints. You only knew they were there is you saw them or if you caught them on security camera footage.
Anyway I’m getting off track, sorry. So how did the wind spirit even learn how to mimic Trump? Well, my grandpa currently lives with me and he is a Fox News Grandpa. Always has it blaring 24/7. If it weren’t for the fact I promised my grandma I would take care of him before she died, I would have put him in a home years ago.
My grandma was an extremely good woman, she loved to volunteer and truly exemplified having a heart of gold. That’s why I will forever be confused on why she married my grandpa.
Sorry, off track again. It’s the Minnesotan in me. The wind spirit has always come to my backyard to try and lure me out. I seldom see it, usually only the strange glow of its eyes kind of like the one you see in a dog or cat’s eyes in photos.
The wind spirit’s main tactic is try to lure you out by mimicking a distressed person.
When I first moved into this house that I had bought from my great uncle (grandma’s brother). It would impersonate what sounded like a little girl speaking Ojibwe. I only knew that from one of the only few phrases I learned in Ojibwe during a Minnesota history class in my middle school. She would say,
“Boozhoo?” Which means hello, in a confused and lost voice followed by words presumably also in Ojibwe but since I only know how to say hello, my name is, and blueberry pie (which is apparently the longest word in the Ojibwe language according to the teacher who came in from Leech Lake) but your guess is as good as mine.
Overtime it evolved into my great uncle’s voice asking me to help him as he had fallen down then it was my parents who had moved to Florida years ago before finally becoming my grandpa, even if it was my grandpa I wouldn’t help him prior to my promise to grandma since he was so awful to my grandma and mom growing up.
I would usually drown it out with blaring Netflix on the TV. Despite the house being smack dab in the woods with the closest neighbor half a mile away, there is surprisingly good WiFi.
When my grandma died in hospice, that very same day I moved grandpa into my house. Even though my grandpa had went from a cruel abusive man to know a meek yet rude husk of what once towered over us. My grandma was my role model, the light in my life. So despite hating the man, out of respect for her I wouldn’t help do the bare minimum of at least keeping him alive.
So now here is where we get to the exposure to our president.
That same night, the Wind Spirit decided to lay a low blow on me. I knew my grandma was dead but it kept using her voice that night.
“Melody, dearest. Can I see you? I already miss you.” It would say in her voice.
It would continue.
“Can I see grandpa Ron? Oh, it would make me so happy to see him.”
As stupid as it sounds, I won’t lie when I say the very last one stung given I had lost her that same day.
“Oh Melody, it’s so dark. Why? Why am I alone? Please don’t leave me alone. I’m scared.”
That’s when in a wine drunk stupor as I was trying to drown my sorrows. I opened the window, revealing the mesh screen to keep bugs out, ripped the remote out of the geezers hands, and blared Fox News for it to hear as my grandpa watched the TV like he was a zombie.
That night the presidential debates were happening so clips of Donald Trump were being analyzed and played over and over.
I don’t even remember falling asleep but I did wake up in my bed still clasping an empty bottle of Barefoot Wine. I went to the living room and the window with the mesh screen was fine. Grandpa was still in chair fast asleep like he was when I started blaring the news.
What freaked me out was that the TV was on mute and the remote was on top of the fridge. My grandpa uses a walker to ambulate and he can barely even work a landline phone let alone a remote without assistance from me.
How would he have muted it?
How did he get it on top of the fridge?
I never downplayed how weird it was, I just had other priorities in the moment like my pounding head and grandma’s funeral.
I did the same thing for the next couple of nights, except without getting drunk, and it seemed to ward off the wind spirit or so I thought. It was the same every morning, the remote would be in a spot where my grandpa could not be able to physically put in given his condition and the TV would always be muted by sunrise.
With this routine, it stopped impersonating my grandma if speaking at all. My grandpa was as happy as a guy who knows a slur in every language including ASL could be.
My grandma’s funeral came and went. I kept the routine. I mean hey, I only promised that I would keep my grandpa alive not that I would give him a life of luxury. Especially after all the physical harm he has done to my grandma and my mom throughout our collective lives, he’s lucky I don’t stick him out in the shed.
Anyway, one night we had a very severe thunderstorm that cut power to the house. My phone still worked and I was able to figure out by giving my neighbor a call that the power would be back by morning.
That night, I shut the window, and laid a blanket on top of my grandpa in his recliner.
“Night Grandpa.”
“When I die, you are getting none of my shit.” He sneered unprompted as he adjusted the blanket.
“Thanks Ron, I’ll remember that.” I replied as I switched off the light and headed upstairs to bed.
As I snuggled into bed, I heard a tap on my window.
It sounded like glass against glass.
I knew it was the wind spirit.
I just remained turned away from the window and just closed my eyes tightly.
“Wrong” I heard a voice that sounded like Donald Trump’s say. It was slightly muffled but still audible.
What? The TV shouldn’t be on, I mean heck I can’t even charge my phone.
“You are fake news.” The voice continued.
I was so dumbfounded, that I just turned to the window because at least if I was gonna die, I wanted to see if what I was hearing wasn’t just my brain filling the absence of what would usually play.
I looked to the window to see the wind spirit, squatting directly outside my window, continuing to impersonate Trump. It even did the hand motions.
“I said wow, you better not challenge me. You will pay. Your wife is ugly.” It said while doing the exact same hand motions I have seen Trump do thousands of times as I would tuck grandpa in each night.
I blinked and it was gone. I just assumed a combination of being in a dream and my brain attempting to fill the silence that maybe I had a brief mental break. So I just turned away from the window and eventually fell asleep.
I woke up the next morning to my grandpa walking around with kitchen with his walker.
“Grandpa, what are you doing up before me?” I asked.
“Well, President Trump told me I need to eat more so I’m making myself breakfast.”
“Grandpa, getting beef jerky out of the pantry is not breakfast. Also what do you mean? Are you hearing voices?”
“No no woman, the dang TV screen broke but the sound was still working. I heard him telling me about how older American men need to eat more. He suggested McDonalds but I know the Supereats doesn’t bring food out here.”
“Grandpa, it’s Ubereats. The power was out last night. See look?” I said as I walked over the the TV and turned it on, screen and audio working fine.
“Oh hush woman, I know better than you. The TV was being weird and now it’s just working again.” He said then took a big bite of beef jerky while using his walker to guide himself back to the chair.
As much as I disliked my grandfather, I was concerned. He was a vulnerable adult at this stage and my grandma would be disappointed in me if I let my bitterness block me from making the right choice even if it wasn’t the easy one.
As nights went on I noticed the loud blaring TV was off, some nights I would hear the Wind Spirit at my window just saying random phrases in Trump’s voice.
“Crooked Hilary, I said wow Sleepy Joe, he’s so very sleepy. I am the chosen one.” Among many other weird sentences that didn’t really convey a message.
It culminated in one night when I went down stairs to tuck grandpa in and the front door was wide open and he was gone.
I grabbed a kitchen knife and a flashlight before bolting out the door. I went about half a mile down the road before seeing my grandpa with his walker moving as fast as he could, seemingly following something.
“GRANDPA WHAT THE HELL?!” I said as I ran up beside him grabbing the side of his walker to prevent him from moving any further.
“Trump promised me I could be with Lillian again, he’d show me where she was.” He said as he looked at me with tears in his eyes.
I felt shocked but yet somehow not surprised as the same time. It was a strange feeling because I never really considered that he cared much for my grandma let alone anyone given how he treated her and others but at the same time I considered that they had practically spent their whole lives together. Only in the last couple of months had he really been without my grandma, even though he saw her lowered into the ground. It’s likely a part of him still wanted to believe she was somehow still out there, waiting for him. Loneliness can even pierce the meanest hearts.
“Grandpa, grandma is gone. Not even Trump can bring her back as much as you would like to think he can. Let’s go back to the house.” I said as I turned him back around and we began walking towards the house.
“I said wow, Ron are you really gonna believe your dog of a granddaughter or a man of the American people like me?” I heard a voice say behind us. I could feel a cold breath on my neck.
It was hovering over me. It was practically against me.
I carefully maneuvered my hand, still holding the knife, around my grandpa to his other shoulder and pressed him tightly against me while guiding him back to the house.
“I want to see Lillian. I miss her. Please Mr. Trump bring her back.” My grandpa pleaded.
We walked slowly but carefully, even though I could not hear the spirit’s footsteps, exactly like a gut feeling telling you to run, I could feel and imagine the gait of it. How long its stride was, the amount of pressure exerted with each step, even the way it moved its arms despite not looking at it once. It was like every survival instinct was acting as eyes when my eyes were only allowed to lock on the house.
My grandpa began crying but stopped replying.
“Just keep walking with my grandpa.” I said as each step made it seem like hours with how slow we were moving in the night.
The spirit continued to breathe on my neck in cold pants, occasionally drool falling onto the nape of my neck which felt like cold jello.
“Fake news Ron. I said wow this is the fakest news I couldn’t believe the news. I said Melania can you believe this news?” The spirit said.
I could feel it doing the hand motions based on the soft wafts of air that would hit my arms.
After what felt like hell, we finally made it to the doorway.
I could hear my heartbeat in my ears, I was sweating despite the cooling drool dripping from the back of my neck to my lower back.
I froze for a moment thinking of what to do next.
“You’re fired.” It said in a hushed version of Trump’s voice.
It was then I made a decision…maybe not a great one but one that has allowed me to be alive to type this.
I shoved grandpa pass the doorway into the house hard, he did fall but I followed suit. Entering and slamming the door behind me. The spirit’s arm was caught in the doorway with long blackened fingernails and fingertips presumably from blood. It clawed and thrashed as I struggled to close the door with all my might.
I pushed the door.
This was a fight for my life and I wasn’t about to lose to some cryptid doing an impersonation of a politician.
Eventually after 20 minutes of struggling, it pulled its arm back and I locked the door. I leaned my back against the door and slid to the ground.
I don’t know why I brought the knife because I didn’t end up using it though I must admit it wasn’t a bad idea in the moment.
I helped grandpa to his feet, he was fine aside from some bruising. Her berated me about being too strong for a woman before giving me a big hug. The first and only time he has ever done that in his entire life.
He has a strange way of showing love, if you can even call it that. I don’t forgive him for all the cruelty but I won’t lie when I say it’s nice to know he isn’t completely heartless even if it’s not exactly the healthiest expression of love.
We still live in the same routine but grandpa insists on the window being closed at all times. I bought extra locks for all the doors and special locks for the windows.
We still hear the spirit out at night.
We will hear regurgitated quotes from the news segments it eavesdrops on.
We just returned to blaring the TV.
Though I must admit the most recent quote is very off putting…
“I said wow, I can still find a way in. You are fake news.”

There are so many lovely writers on r/talesfromthecreeps and I do truly mean that. Rather, I would like to highlight one writer in particular who has stories that I believe would be appropriate and amazing for CreepCast. A perfect balance of camp, seriousness, horror, and flat fun. u/SydneySapphire has been killing it with her writings. I especially think either her Salem Hill Series or her latest series about Teeth would be great. Thank you!

It’s been a minute. Sorry I was on vacation to Wyoming. Didn’t go for any particular reason, I just went there…wish there was more to that. The wind was unusually hostile but that’s about it.

Here’s the link to part 5 which has the link to everything else, I’m too lazy to sift through everything again:

Part 5

Bianca invited me over today. I had just unpacked from my trip when she knocked on my door. I opened it to see her. She seemed…not like herself. Something was off, her tone made me think nervous but her body language was that of general impatience. She kept gnawing on her nails despite the lack of teeth, they were bleeding somehow. Maybe just the repetitions from her mouth or the force? Nothing makes sense these days.

I went over, it was just the two of us (well except the pets and the grandparents in the basement). We sat on the couch, it made a wet squishing noise which confirmed my suspicions of what it was, blood if you didn’t catch on. We sat there, she fiddled with her hands. I noticed some DVDs with different labels on the coffee table. As sad as it is to say, I haven’t seen those in a while. I miss physical media.

“I guess you are wondering why I brought you over here?” She said, with slight nervousness in her voice.

“Yeah, you seemed bothered by something.”

“Well…you’ve probably noticed that our, Harold and mine, family aren’t like other families.”

No, I have never realized that. I didn’t say that but I only thought it.

“Well, everyone is a bit odd if you think about it.” I responded, trying to be polite.

“I thought about what you said at the barbecue. Aside from my ungodly behavior, there are some other things about our family that are equally ungodly.”

“Oh no I overstepped-“

“Tracy, you’ve been our neighbor for a few years now. You deserve some honesty from us, especially considering your kindness.”

She stood up, picked up a DVD labelled “Wedding Day”, held it longingly in her hands as she walked to the side of the TV and stopped.

“I didn’t always look like this.” She said solemnly as she put in the DVD.

I was concerned about what I was about to see.

“I learned at university through science courses like biology, chemistry, and physics that apparently, assuming I’m even remembering it right, the most chaotic formation imaginable is one that is perfectly symmetrical.” She remarked as she returned to the couch with a remote.

“Why are you telling me this? It feels like you are speaking in some form of riddle?” I responded.

The TV came on before I knew it. There she was, Bianca.

Perfectly human with brown eyes and a smile that could have melted butter.

Bianca had always been pretty despite her form but in her wedding dress all dolled up, she was like a princess.

Harold…looked the same as he does now, at most maybe a little less bloody but the same for the most part.

The wedding video went as expected, about 45 minutes of vows, the kiss, the beginning of the wedding reception. The video cut to Bianca and Beverly standing in front of a table, I soon saw a familiar figure or should I say eyeball.

The Ancient One.

I recognized Colleen, Tim and Jim, and what I assume were the rest of Harold’s siblings based on the abominations present I won’t describe and couldn’t begin to describe if I even tried.

“Why is Beverly there?” I asked

“The perfect form of chaos is perfect symmetry.” She said blankly.

My stomach dropped.

“Harold and I met at a Ping Pong Tournament, one of shared and now less frequent passions. Little did I fully comprehend that day that…” she took a breath. “That it would change.”

My eyes were locked on TV screen now. I could feel my heartbeat in my chest.

Harold stood behind Bianca in the video.

“Pappy, please bless my bride to become apart of my family. She is one of us now. As per your wishes, do the same onto her twin as they are of the same body.” Harold announced firmly as he bowed his head. I noticed Bianca and Beverly were bowing their heads as well. I noticed everyone else in the background though was kneeling.

The Ancient one began to vibrate, as he began to vibrate more violently. Something familiar, that distorted French he spoke in my dream.

In the video, Bianca’s nose started to bleed then Beverly’s. Soon blood came cascading out of their mouth that slowly turned to a meat paste slopping out of every orifice, and unfortunately I do mean EVERY orifice. They were melting to the ground as they shrieked a terrible noise that sounded like a high pitched tea kettle.

Eventually they both flattened to the ground in pools of blood and mashed flesh. They arose as skin husks. Empty, light, and cold. The Ancient One stopped vibrating and a moment of silence came over the group.

The Ancient One crumpled onto the table as if he were made of chalk.

A cheer rang out, everyone stood up and cheered as they rushed toward the couple who was now hugging and kissing.

The screen cut to black and I could see my horrified expression in the reflection.

“Genetically identical, they argued?” Bianca said.

I sat stunned as the words flew through me instead of absorbed by me.

“That’s why Bev looks the same as me, perfectly symmetrical.” She said as she got off the couch to replace the CD with another that said “Pregnancy” she had in her hand.

I snapped back to reality (ope there goes gravity).

“Why are you telling me this now? Why this feels so random? So out of place?” I asked frantically.

“Exactly.” She said coldly as she snapped her head back to look at me.

I was startled by that reaction.

“Sorry Trace, I know I’m not acting like myself. I know this all seems strange but my life from the moment I got married has been nothing but unpredictability and madness. No day ever the same, no moment ever repeating even close to like before. Yet…” she explained.

“Yet?” I inquired.

She let out her almost smile at me and said in that soft sing song voice.

“I wouldn’t change a thing, not a single nightmare, not every pain, not the body you see before you. I would do again…always. Love makes you do the craziest things. I think I just need someone to see to get this strange cloud over my head gone.”

She then switched out the DVDs returned to the couch and started the DVD with the remote.

The first shot was something I had seen before that I’m glad in retrospect I have seen before.

Harold wearing Bianca.

One detail was different though.

There was a pregnancy bump.

Harold was holding the camcorder into a mirror revealing the duo combined and the protruding baby bump that caused stretch marks on Bianca’s skin. Blood oozing out of the areas where Bianca’s skin revealed Harold’s eyes and mouth.

The video continued on cutting to clips of them at the beach, at the museum, and at family gatherings. They spoke to each other sweetly talking about baby names in the video and how much they loved each other. A shocking amount of clips was pregnant them playing ping pong.

In each clip, the bump got bigger and bigger.

“Oh I loved being pregnant! It felt like a second honeymoon for me and Harold.” She said in that same sing songy Disney princess voice. It was though she suddenly returned to her normal demeanor.

Was this a curse affecting her personality today? Was she emotionally unstable? Am I going crazy?

The video suddenly ended. I could hear Bianca sniffling. I looked over to her.

“What’s wrong Bianca?” I asked.

She blew her floppy nose into a tissue.

“I was scared I would never get to show these clips to anyone else. I can’t even show them to my sister. It’s too hard. I just wanted someone to know these moments existed, that Harold and I existed. I don’t know if I could ever show these to Job. He’d be horrified.” She bawled.

I moved closer to Bianca, putting my hand on her back.

“I could understand why you aren’t being yourself I mean, I was adopted. Which I know is something weird to say right now maybe but I never got to know what my birth mother went through. I never…I never even got her name.” I replied somberly.

Bianca was now looking at me, I could see it in my peripheral as I looked at my reflection in the black TV screen.

“I couldn’t imagine having to never really live the same moment, never being able to show these tapes to anyone else…ever.” I took a breath, slouched onto the couch and looked up to the ceiling.

“I never got to know my birth mom but I like to think she would show me video like this of her…with me. Is there anyway Job can see these after this?” I asked now looking at Bianca.

“Technically yes but I would have to ask for permission from Pappy.” She responded now calm but still quite somber.

As crazy as it sounds I could understand the emotional rollercoaster, I mean you have these DVDs you can practically only show once unless you get the eyeball’s blessing. The same eyeball that melted you and your sister’s insides ON YOUR WEDDING DAY. Leaving you as skin husks and then to have a baby, your husband has to wear you like a onesie for god knows how long by this family’s time standards.

Yeah, I would be emotionally fragile and unstable too.

“This next DVD though, I don’t want any other person to see…ever” she said with disdain in her voice. She looked me in my eyes.

“I’m sorry it had to be you but if Job or anyone else in this neighborhood saw this, they wouldn’t be as forgiving or as kind as you would be.”

I felt a lump in my throat as I saw the DVD labelled the thing I dreaded most once I processed what it said.

Delivery.

I should have jumped through the window like a cartoon character or a stunt man and ran like Forest Gump. I was in so much shock though from the previous images that I did the one thing I did in most of these situations, freeze.

She returned to the couch and used the remote to start the DVD.

It was them, Bianca being worn by Harold. They were hunched over, in this very living room. The curtains were drawn. Harold began coughing, it gradually became more violent as they paced in circles remaining hunched.

Eventually, clear liquid violently shot out of the mouth and eye holes of Bianca. Harold violently blinked yet continued to cough.

They stopped.

Harold outstretched his arms as far as he could with Bianca’s tight skin on him. He placed one hand over the other that was a balled fist like you would when giving the Heimlich Maneuver.

And that’s what he did.

His hands thrashed into the baby bump repeatedly, Harold continuing his violent cough through the demented Heimlich Maneuver I was witnessing. I could hear Bianca grunting.

The bump started moving up from the lower abdomen, to the chest, to the throat before finally.

Harold threw up an array of blood and small bones.

Job’s bones.

Harold stood fully up.

Bianca slid off Harold’s body like an unzipped dress.

Harold fell to his hands and knees. He was panting loudly, trying to catch his breath.

The screen then cut to black. I was starting at my face in the reflection of the TV reflection was again.

I immediately threw up onto the floor and began hyperventilating.

“What. The. Actual. Fuck.” I said through hyperventilated breaths, I continued to dry heave.

I heard Bianca let out a sigh of relief.

“Thank god…thank the lord I no longer have to keep this DVD. I can finally destroy it.” She said cheerfully yet sounding as though she had just run a marathon.

I just looked at her with a disgusted face. She picked up on it and scooted closer to me.

“I don’t think you understand the burden you just lifted off of me, Job will never have to see this now.” She said happily.

I wanted to sock her square in her face but then I thought of Job, the sweet little boy who always shoveled my driveway in the winter and brought his mom flowers.

The boy who treated me like a role model even though he shouldn’t. I think Bianca did this on purpose. She knows I care for Job, in fact I know that was exactly her plan.

Somehow, despite it being justified, I’m not angry (still horribly traumatized though). As sick as it sounds, I would have done the same in her shoes. Any parent would to protect their child, even if it meant scarring your neighbor for life.

She walked over to the TV, removed the DVD from the DVD player, and ate the DVD.

She walked over to me and knelt to my keeled over level on the couch. She put her hand on my shoulder.

“I know you will never forgive me, I don’t know if I will be able to. Thank you for letting me protect my boy.” She said with sincerity.

I nodded. As messed up as it sounds, I know I would kind of forgive her at some point. Only the intention part, not the visual part.

I wouldn’t wish this on Job. He would probably feel 100x more horrified than me, especially seeing his mom on his wedding day or his birth.

Bianca walked me back home, Zoey was pooping in my garden. Bianca gave me one big hug at the doorway and whispered “thank you” into my ear before walking back home with Zoey following behind.

Now, I’m laying in my bed eating out of a tub of ice cream with Bluey playing on my TV.

I already booked a therapy appointment for every possible day for the next 3 months.

I have a lot of answers now but even then I still don’t know about the dreams and honestly, I really don’t want to know now.

(This is not meant to be serious. Once again, it is supposed to be completely stupid. I am still very much open to critiques or not trying to evade if this is bad. Just fully making it known this is meant to be stupid. Thank you. Also you have to read it in a discord mod voice for the first part for this to have full effect)

Hello my sweet princess,
It is me, milady. Your knight in shining armor, Ezekiel, leaving you a message before I sign off and slumber.
Even a lion needs to rest, my sweet kitten.
My stupid parents are acting more annoying than usual.
I heard a bunch of stomping upstairs, I thought I heard my mom screaming but when is she not screaming about stupid stuff to me or dad.
I just went back to playing Marvel Rivals.
The trash can must be more full too because I could hear it being dragged on the ground above me.
It’s weird because I heard that dragging and then the same noise about 20 or so minutes later.
the worst part about living in the basement.
You can hear every freaking thing in this house.
It’s hard kitten but it’s for the best.
It’s been mostly quiet ever since.
I didn’t even hear dad’s TV or the sounds of my mom making dinner.
Now thinking about it…mom never brought me dinner.
Must of been fish for dinner then, I freaking hate fish. I can smell the yucky food from upstairs coming down here.
I guess it’s just Doritos for me then.
It’s silent…well other than the sound of the air going through the vent but when I put my hand in front of it, I didn’t feel any air on my fingers.
It also seems to be broken, it goes on then off a couple of seconds later.
It’s super freaking weird.
If I didn’t know any better something fishy is happening (pun intended for your humor, kitten).
Oh well now my stupid freaking parents are acknowledging me.
I lock the basement door so they don’t interrupt my gaming, I only open it for food or to confront my freaking dad.
I don’t know why they are banging on it so loud.
When I open that door, it better be a freaking apology or else I’m gonna freaking roundhouse them.
To my sweet kitten, I will message you when I awake. I hope you rest my princess.
Sleep well.

“Breaking News, A family of three found murdered tonight after a panicked call from neighbors. Police describe the scene from being ‘something out of a horror movie’. An attempted break in turned murdered. As you can see behind us, the front door is only hanging on by one hinge and two bodies were dragged to the trash can found outside the home. Victims have been identified as 74 year old Mary Philips, 77 year old Michael Philips, and 38 year old Ezekiel Philips. Mary and Michael had been found decapitated but through what police explain as ‘in an atypical fashion’. The son, Ezekiel, was found at the bottom of the basement stairs also have been decapitated and seemingly peed himself moments before death. The police have only one lead, a Discord message found on the son’s computer a few minutes after his death from an account called ‘occultcutiepatootie16’ saying the following, ‘From your sweet kitten, I hope your rest will make you feel as though you have slept for an eternity.’ Followed by a winking emoji and a kissing face emoji. More on this story later…”

I see you reading this on your device…
Or maybe it’s a device you borrowed?
We both know the answer to that question.
Maybe you are sitting or standing.
Perhaps lying down.
Maybe you are taking a brief break from this to scan your surroundings.
Frantically moving your head around or you could just be darting your eyes back and forth.
Searching every crevice.
Every shadow.
Every odd shaped thing your brain processes as a potential threat.
You can perfectly see me.
You know I’m there.
You can feel me.
I can see you tensing up.
Becoming more enthralled with my every word as you drink it in.
Flies to honey.
A drug.
A trap.
I know you can see me.
I only have one question for you now.
Who will you cry out for now that it’s just us?

Links to previous posts at some point:
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4
Ah, the day of the annual barbecue hosted by the lovely family of Harold, Bianca, Job, and his pets. Some of the most unique and vomit inducing food you’ve ever seen. Everyone goes for the social aspect and games. It is actually great fun. It’s also one of the few times we see extended family on both sides. Some of Harold’s siblings and Bianca’s twin sister, Beverly.
I knew their siblings. I have met them in the past. Never Mamaw and Pipi though prior to whatever you can call that event, I just assumed they lived somewhere besides the basement of the house.
I brought the same thing I always did, a store bought array of cookies for about 30 people.
I began my long journey of 30-40 steps once again to their backyard. I saw that long table once again only this time no chairs and I could see Harold trying to start the grill.
“Tracy! Tracy!” Job shouted excitedly as he ran up to me giving me a hug, Sparky following from a couple feet behind.
I gave him a partial hug as I tried balancing the tray with one hand, Job let go and backed up.
“Hey Sparks! Can you bring those cookies to the table? I want to talk to Tracy and tell her about all the cool adventures I’ve been having!” He asked Sparky.
Sparky grabbed the tray from my hands and began walking towards the table with it. Job began pulling on my now free hand towards the near center of the backyard.
“Oh Tracy! You’ll never believe all the cool stuff I’ve done!” He said as he sat down in the grass criss cross.
I followed suit.
“What have you done that’s so cool, Job?”
“Rose and I went to the zoo, her dads took us. I got to feed a giraffe. It looked so tasty but cute. Then we got face painting done by this woman who smelled like cigarettes.”
“What else happened buddy?”
“We left the zoo and we came back home. My mom and dad tried to convince me that they thought I was a real tiger, I’m not a little kid. I know they knew I was me.”
“Woah, you got your face painted like a tiger?”
“Uh yeah, tigers are so awesome. I wish Zoey was a tiger then we could play Jungle or something. Instead all she wants to do is dig in the basement.”
“Did anything else happen buddy?” I asked ignoring the basement part.
His body language shifted and general energy changed. He grabbed a nearby stick and started poking the ground, his hand cupping his face as he leaned into it.
“In my dreams I saw through the eyes of a murderer.” He said in a slightly annoyed but mostly bored voice.
Huh.
“What do you mean Job?”
“Pappy says I have special eyes, ones that are meant to see chaos. Pappy says pure chaos is perfect order as perfection is not natural, disorder is but not chaos. So I see things that I don’t think I’m supposed to see.” He said solemnly.
I sat stunned.
“I was looking through the eyes of a man, an evil man. He was chasing some lady in the woods—she had orange hair and her red lipstick was smeared so much it was coming out of her nose. Must have slipped while putting it on.”
He lowered his head, parallel to the ground
“She was screaming so loud, the man caught her, he put a rope around her neck and pulled and pulled and pulled, she sounded like Zoey throwing up then. Then she was silent.”
“Job, have you told your parents about this?”
He suddenly sprang up into a perfect sitting posture and became cheery again.
“Oh yeah, mom and dad said that’s normal for boys in our family. Dad just says the next time I’m in his body try to find something called disabling features.”
“I think you mean distinguishing.”
“Yeah that word…”
A minute of awkward silence fell between us.
“I’m gonna go play cars now, bye Tracy!” He got up and ran towards the glass sliding door opening it, entering it, and throwing it shut behind him.
I say once again, HUH.
Bianca emerges from the sliding glass door with a bag slung around her body, the bag is bloody and looks heavy, causing her to slightly slump toward the left side of her body.
I quickly get up and lightly jog towards her, following her to the grill.
“Hey Bianca!”
She turns her head as best she can and lets out the closest thing to a smile she can produce.
“Hi Tracy! I saw you talking to Job. He just simply thinks you’re the coolest. We are so blessed with nice neighbors.”
“Aw thank you Bianca but I’m worried about Job.” I say as I walk alongside her to the grill.
“Is something wrong?” She says with deep concern.
“Job told me about his dream”
She let out a sigh of relief and then…a laugh.
“Oh my, you scared me? I thought Job was being hurt.”
I overstepped my bounds.
“Bianca, he even said himself he doesn’t think he is supposed to be seeing that.” I said sternly.
I could see Harold spring up in a straight posture and begin doing a “cut it out” motion with his hand towards his neck in my peripheral.
Bianca made an angered expression and began straightening her posture, it was almost as though she were growing. She lunged only inches away from my face, I could see into the dark void of her barren eye sockets. Even though she had no eyes, I knew I was looking at her soul. She seemed gigantic but it just was that she wasn’t scrunched up anymore. She had control of her body. It was taut rather than limp.
“Are you saying I am letting Job be hurt?” She said firmly, that sing song voice was gone. It was now cold and piercing.
I honestly could have shit my pants, never did I think I would be scared of a human husk.
I let my true feelings out in that moment, I took a breath.
“No, Bianca. You are one of the most loving mothers I have ever seen. I just am scared Job doesn’t know how to feel about what he is seeing. It could be really daunting and mind-boggling to go through that.” I said with true concern.
She continued to stare at me for a solid minute.
Silence.
Her face then turned into a frown and she seemingly deflated back to her normal, limp-ish form.
“I’m sorry dear. I’ve been stressed. I just—no you are right. I mean these dreams are just normal for me and Harold now. I still remember my first dream vividly, oh I couldn’t imagine my boy going through that horror for the first time.” She said as she began to sniffle.
“Bianca, I’m no parent. I’m sorry too. I just know how much he means to you and Harold. I think he’s an awesome kid too. I’m just saying maybe therapy or maybe something therapeutic can help make him process it better.”
She looked at me now with an almost soft smile, wiping tears from her eyes.
“Oh all is well, I think that’d be a great idea. I’ll have Harold look up some therapists on the web later.” She leapt at me giving me hug.
I hugged her back.
She whispered thank you into my ear.
She pulled away from the hug and took a deep breath.
“Gosh this barbecue makes me more emotional than when I was pregnant if you can believe that. Anyway…” she said clearing her throat at the end.
She reached into the bloody bag and pulled out a huge slab of meat about the size of a piece of printer paper. It plopped onto the now lit grill with a sizzling noise.
“Have you ever had zebra steaks before?” She said returning to that sing song tone of voice with a smile only she could have.
I couldn’t help but crack a smile and laugh, I felt so much emotional whiplash my brain just malfunctioned and leaned into her well intended olive branch in the form of a zebra steaks.
I saw Harold put his hand to his chest and let out a sigh of relief.
I helped set up games as more people trickled in.
David, Joe, Rosemarie, The Olsons, Not Terry, and a lot of other neighbors.
Eventually, Harold’s siblings showed up. I would recognize the Twins anywhere. Harold has two younger brothers who are twins named Jim and Tim (real names Jimothy and Tames respectively, I’m not even joking they showed me their drivers licenses to prove that). Have you ever seen what a Neanderthal looks like in those museums? Imagine that but at 4’1” with severe underbites, chimp teeth, porcelain skin, and eyes way too blue.
Despite their appearance, they are actually super chill. Their fashion is an issue though, they dress like frat brothers.
The twins scurried over and tackled Harold to the ground as all three of them shouted in unison.
“BROTHA!”
Then the oldest sibling, Colleen. She looks…completely normal. She looks like a regular human, she actually quite pretty with her blue eyes, tanned skin, and wavy hair. I guess the only things that are maybe odd are that she has the worst case of RBF I’ve ever seen and that she’s relatively muscular but I also have pretty bad RBF too and I shouldn’t judge someone with guns like hers.
“Hi Colleen.”
“Hi Tracy”
“How are you?”
“Good and yourself?”
“I’m doing good”
“Glad to hear it. Sorry to leave so soon but I got to go get Jim and Tim off Harold before they try to gouge his eyes out again. Good seeing you, we’ll chat later” She said as she sprinted towards Harold who was now screaming in pain, his brothers slamming their fists all over his body.
“OH GOSH GET THEM OFF! UNCLE! UNCLE!” Harold screamed as he became somehow bloodier than ever.
I could see Colleen pull a mini fire extinguisher out of her purse and start spraying Jim and Tim.
“BACK YOU HEATHENS!” She screamed.
Jim and Tim let out ape-like shrills before scurrying to the front yard with Colleen hot in pursuit.
Then Beverly showed up, you’ll never guess? She looks almost exactly like Bianca. The only differences being that Beverly has a pixie cut and a style more akin to my own.
She showed up in crocs and socks, basketball shorts, and a white T shirt with black text reading “I Shidded” across it.
Bianca and Beverly greeted each other with a hug.
“Bev, why couldn’t you wear the clothes I sent you?” She said in a joking tone.
“Because this shirt fucks.”
The rest of the night went normal or at least as normal as it possibly could go. The food? Edible! Zebra steaks with buttered peas and Sprite jello as a desert. Not horrific. The games were fun, watching the twins beat the crap out of Sparky was great, Jim gave Sparky the peoples’ elbow from the top of the fence and Tim gave him the chair. Colleen, Beverly, and I had a great conversation around the bonfire later on about life. David and Joe were having fun and I got to see them dance to music played on the blue tooth speaker and the stars, oh my goodness the stars that night were like thousands of pieces of hope shining into your very being.
Bianca got very drunk, threw up, and kept apologizing to me. Beverly had to put her to bed early by helping her to the bedroom.
Harold was drinking straight olive oil, so was Colleen but I guess something has to be weird about her. Everyone went home with smiles on their faces. Maybe I wasn’t as traumatized this time, maybe there is hope. Well I guess it’s scary to know that Bianca is only becoming a greater mystery, how did she get bigger? How could she suddenly control herself so well? Most of all, what did she mean by they all have dreams like Job’s?

I see you reading this on your device…
Or maybe it’s a device you borrowed?
We both know the answer to that question.
Maybe you are sitting or standing.
Perhaps lying down.
Maybe you are taking a brief break from this to scan your surroundings.
Frantically moving your head around or you could just be darting your eyes back and forth.
Searching every crevice.
Every shadow.
Every odd shaped thing your brain processes as a potential threat.
You can perfectly see me.
You know I’m there.
You can feel me.
I can see you tensing up.
Becoming more enthralled with my every word as you drink it in.
Flies to honey.
A drug.
A trap.
I know you can see me.
I only have one question for you now.
Who will you cry out for now that it’s just us?

I see you reading this on your device…
Or maybe it’s a device you borrowed?
We both know the answer to that question.
Maybe you are sitting or standing.
Perhaps lying down.
Maybe you are taking a brief break from this to scan your surroundings.
Frantically moving your head around or you could just be darting your eyes back and forth.
Searching every crevice.
Every shadow.
Every odd shaped thing your brain processes as a potential threat.
You can perfectly see me.
You know I’m there.
You can feel me.
I can see you tensing up.
Becoming more enthralled with my every word as you drink it in.
Flies to honey.
A drug.
A trap.
I know you can see me.
I only have one question for you now.
Who will you cry out for now that it’s just us?

I see you reading this on your device…
Or maybe it’s a device you borrowed?
We both know the answer to that question.
Maybe you are sitting or standing.
Perhaps lying down.
Maybe you are taking a brief break from this to scan your surroundings.
Frantically moving your head around or you could just be darting your eyes back and forth.
Searching every crevice.
Every shadow.
Every odd shaped thing your brain processes as a potential threat.
You can perfectly see me.
You know I’m there.
You can feel me.
I can see you tensing up.
Becoming more enthralled with my every word as you drink it in.
Flies to honey.
A drug.
A trap.
I know you can see me.
I only have one question for you now.
Who will you cry out for now that it’s just us?

I see you reading this on your device…
Or maybe it’s a device you borrowed?
We both know the answer to that question.
Maybe you are sitting or standing.
Perhaps lying down.
Maybe you are taking a brief break from this to scan your surroundings.
Frantically moving your head around or you could just be darting your eyes back and forth.
Searching every crevice.
Every shadow.
Every odd shaped thing your brain processes as a potential threat.
You can perfectly see me.
You know I’m there.
You can feel me.
I can see you tensing up.
Becoming more enthralled with my every word as you drink it in.
Flies to honey.
A drug.
A trap.
I know you can see me.
I only have one question for you now.
Who will you cry out for now that it’s just us?

Links to previous parts here (at some point):
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3
As I sit in my front lawn in a cheap lawn chair I bought from Walmart, I type this on my lap top. I am currently watching Job on the skateboard I got him for his birthday. He is holding onto Sparky’s lead as he is pulled in an Olympic style sprint by Sparky, looping around the neighborhood. I’ve counted 8 laps now. Job is laughing and having fun but also seems to be holding on for dear life. His head flew off during lap three as they turned the corner and fully knocked down the bird feeder the neighbors next to them had in their front yard. RIP to the mourning dove that was caught in the crossfire. It was like watching a bowling ball smash through a bowling pin except aerial and with living things.
Zoey is sitting on the ground next to my chair, she’s kind of purring? It sounds more like a cicada in the summer only slightly lower in pitch. I think that’s a good sign. It is nice though. Bianca and Harold are also in lawn chairs on their lawn though they have fancy ones that can lay flat and don’t break if you get up too fast. It’s windy out so Bianca’s face keeps inflating and deflating with every rep of the wind gusts. It’s very eerie. Harold zip tied her ankle to one of the chair legs though to prevent her from flying away, oh to be loved like how those two love each other. She looks like those wacky inflatable tube men but if it were made of human skin.
Harold has turned the white chair completely red like the khakis and Hawaiian shirt he chose to wear. It’s forming a weird puddle underneath him, like spilt kool-aid on the grass. Bianca is wearing a sundress but it’s all safety pinned to her legs so that she doesn’t flash anybody.
Harold just keeps wiping his face with towels, he has a pile of wet towels next to him. I’ve seen him go through five medium sized towels so far.
I will update y’all in a bit, Harold just stood up from his chair and is walking towards me.

Ok, so a lot happened while I was gone. I was gone for way longer than expected. He came over to both thank me and bring Zoey back inside because they are worried she will get sunburned.
“Thank you again for getting Job a skateboard, he loves it! It helps him get outside, get offline more, and bond with Sparky. No friendship is greater than between a boy and his dog.” He stated cheerfully as he held Zoey in his arms who was licking his face.
I wanted to throw up because her mouth started becoming stained red and her tongue would get caught on the exposed muscle fibers of his face, causing her to panic and jerk her head away until it pulled away like Velcro against Velcro.
“It’s not a problem at all. If I am being honest, I didn’t really know what to get him. Which I realize is probably something I shouldn’t admit but I just thought about how much he loves Sparky and thought it could be something for them to do together.”
“Don’t worry, sometimes we don’t know what to get him too. Kids these days don’t play like we did. My siblings and I would take paper bags, spray the inside with hairspray or bug spray, and we would huff it. Most times afterward would collect gravel along the highway to snack on.” He said like it wasn’t a crazy thing at all.
“What?”
“Oh yeah, we would usually by then go into the woods, find a random animal and beat it to death so we could have it for dinner later that night.” He said while laughing like he was remembering something funny.
“Where were your parents during all this?” I asked jokingly.
He opened his mouth to respond but then froze and thought for a minute.
“Why don’t we ask them? Come on!” He said motioning with his hand for me to follow him.
I got up slowly from my cheap chair, closed my lap top, and set it on the chair before following him to his home.
Bianca was still flailing on and off in the wind but gave her best attempt to look at me and wave.
“Hi Tracy!” She greeted with cheer.
“Hello Bianca.” I replied back.
I followed him into the house and the house looked…fairly normal for the most part. He set Zoey onto the ground and started leading me further into the home. I noticed a couple of odd decorations here and there but nothing that screams skinless man, skin woman, and skeleton child live here.
Well I guess with one exception being that all furniture with fabric like couches are a deep red color. What I found oddly disturbing in that moment was if the furniture was red to begin with? Same with the rugs they had too.
Additionally, they have railings in areas there shouldn’t be. The few hallways, the entryway, the dining room, and in the kitchen.
I assumed it may be for Bianca since she does have balance difficulties.
I would find out this was only partially true.
He led me to a door near the kitchen and opened it revealing a basement.
“You’re not gonna murder me?” I snapped at him with concern.
“What? No! Never you.” He said with sincerity as he started walking down the steps.
I followed him down the steps.
Now I should preface that we live in a neighborhood where every house is built almost the exactly same, with slight differences depending on amount of rooms and so on. Usually it is 2 floors and a basement with a front and back yard and an attached garage to the house.
So the layout of the house wasn’t unfamiliar to me. What was unfamiliar to me was when Harold flipped on the light switch to reveal the floor was completely uneven dirt instead of what should have been smooth concrete. The basement was completely barren but the walls seemed as expected, there and painted. I would not have gone with lime green though. I scanned the environment to see if there was something I was missing.
“Mom? Dad? Hello?” He announced.
I just stood there, wondering if he lied and was actually about to beat me to death like a random forest animal.
Continued silence.
“Hold on a minute, they are getting older so they are also getting hard of hearing.” He claimed as he walked more towards the center of the basement and got onto his knees.
Was he about to summon the devil?
In the blink of an eye, he cocked his arm back before punching and plunging it deep into the soil.
He was really looking for something. He finally stopped moving his arm around in the dirt.
“Mom, is that you or is it dad?” He asked.
I heard the a muffled and faint response.
“You should know by now, sweetie.” The voice replied.
Harold pulled his arm from the dirt, lifting with him an elderly woman. She looked normal from the angle I was viewing this from, when I walked around Harold to the other side. That’s when I saw it.
It was only the right side of a human body.
I was clear as day peering into the exposed side which was caked in dirt filled with worms among pumping blood seeping out and organs clear to see as I saw her eyeball scan the room. She was only exposed from the neck up but trust me when I say, you could see everything.
“Mom? Where’s dad?” He asked, hand still palming her half head.
“He’s trying to dig to hell again. Says he belongs there.” She replied with heavy indifference.
“Well can you get him, I would but I don’t want to be rude in front of a guest.”
“Alright dear, just give me a woman”
The half woman vanished back into earth as though she were being vacuumed back into it.
As Harold got back to his feet, brushing the moistened dirt off of his always blood soaked arm, we waited for 2 full minutes.
Suddenly, a hand poked out the dirt like it would in a zombie movie.
A left hand.
Then a right hand.
Then pulling out the dirt a complete human, the left that of an elderly man and the right was that of an elderly woman. Each half as though it was split perfectly down the middle of its original form and glued together into this act against God I witnessed now.
They were naked and covered in dirt.
I will never get the image of an elderly sliced half penis-sliced half vagina out of my head. I think was slightly worse that the man breast and the woman breast were identical to each other, the only difference being the left side was significantly hairier.
“OH MY GOD YOU TWO?! PUT ON SOME CLOTHES?! I’m so sorry Tracy, I’ll get their robe. I’m so so sorry.” Harold said with a panicked tone of voice, then sprinting up the stairs.
I averted my gaze with my hand toward the ground, as they remaining unmoving from where they emerged.
“You want to be apart of a throuple?” The male voice asked.
“No.”
“Worth a shot.” He stated frankly.
“Bert! You dirty dog! Even after eleven children you’re still sniffing other flowers!” The woman’s voice said with agitation as she used her hand to slap his.
“Betty, I haven’t stuck my penis in anything other than you, the dirt, and a vending machine in our 45 years of marriage.” He replied.
“You always have a way with words dearest.”
Harold came running back down the stairs with a robe and helped his parents to put on the robe.
Harold led all three- I mean four of us up the stairs and we sat at the dining room table, Harold sitting next to me and his parents across from me.
I was no longer averting my gaze. It was so odd, the man had a slightly bigger nose which made their…situation so uncanny and the same with the lips and the dad had those same piercing blue eyes as Harold does.
We sat in silence.
What would you have done in this situation? My brain was still processing the weird nakedness that was burned into my consciousness.
“Tracy had some questions about my childhood in regard to you both and how we all worked together.” Harold explained.
The woman side smiled a toothy smile while the male side maintained a neutral close lipped expression.
“Oh how wonderful! What specifically?” The woman asked, her mouth only moving and the man’s side stayed perfectly still.
“Mom remember how us kids used to huff the bug spray then we’d eat the gravel and bring home dinner?” Harold explained with a child-like excitement.
“Oh yes, Albert and I would be so proud of how hardy you children were. When you have 13 people in a house, money stretches thin. We’d get so creative. I remember one time when the twins would stop playing tug of war with one of the rabbit carcasses you other kids brought home. It was so hard to pull it out of the twins’ mouths.”
“Especially when, when it split open and the guts spewed all over Colleen’s face. She wouldn’t stop throwing up.” Harold remarked through laughter.
Both Harold and Betty were engaging in full belly laughs, Harold occasionally pounding the table with fist likely due to humor overload.
“Betty! Can I add something?” Albert asked which broke the atmosphere.
“Oh certainly.” Betty replied, coming down from laughter and wiping a tear from her eye.
“The kids would help us a lot. I know we ain’t like typical families but the kids would always be together with the exception of the littlest ones who’d be right on Betty’s hip.” He explained, Betty having a soft smile on her face which conveyed appreciation.
“Betty and I would be at home fixing the house, fixing the yard, paying the bills, and feeding the babies. Sometimes the kids felt more responsible than us. I’m grateful we had children who not only looked out for each other but…us during their childhoods.” Albert continued.
Betty reached her hand towards Albert’s and held his hand. Harold leaned forward and joined his hand above the grasp.
“It’s because we had parents who loved us so deeply.” Harold remarked.
I could feel the loving silence, their eyes staring into Harold’s as I witnessed the same love I saw at that birthday party. Some people say that older generations didn’t know how to express love the way we do, which is why so many relationships fail now. I say people like Albert and Betty seemed to have led an example of love that is inherent rather than a product of hopeful thinking.
We sat in the loving atmosphere, I would say even with Frankenstein’s monster sitting across from me that the moment was…somehow heart warming?
“That and the impending doom of Pappy.” Albert added.
“Fair.” Harold and Betty said in unison.
“Did that answer your question?” Harold asked now fully back in his seat and hands to himself.
“Yes.” I lied.
We all stood up from the table and the three of them began leading me out.
“MAMAW! PIPI!” Job screamed excitedly while running through the door towards his grandparents.
I want to emphasize that “Pipi” was pronounced PEE PEE. Not Pippy despite the spelling. I know it and now you do too.
They gave him a hug.
Their voices began overlaying as they pulled away from the hug, maintaining eye contact with Job.
“My, how big you’ve gotten.”
“What a ladies man.”
“You look just like your father.”
“No, he looks like Bianca.”
“Oh, he is skinny like Bianca.”
“Did I reach hell yet?”
“No, not yet Bert.”
It was that cluttered in person as it appears in written form. I’m not even sure who was saying what at one point.
Anyway, they led me out. They left poor Bianca in the chair who was attempting to undo the zip tie. I took it off, she thanked me then went inside. I got to my yard and Sparky was doing the WAP dance on my front lawn. I ignored it and went inside my house and locked the door.
Now, here I am typing this. Somehow being able to eat. I made 3 grilled cheese sandwiches. It’s fire. I do have a lingering question.
When Betty was pregnant, was Albert also pregnant?

Hey, everyone seems to be enjoying my regaling of my experiences. So here I am again to tell you more about my well-meaning but nightmare inducing neighbors.

Here I will link the previous stories at some point:

Part 1 | Part 2

Job has been running around with eyes in his skull now. It’s so cartoonish looking but also uncanny. I’m so used to seeing him without eyes that every time I see him it takes me a couple of seconds to register that it is him and not something out of a Tim Burton Movie. Well, my neighbors are kind of like something out of a Tim Burton but you get what I mean. I just meant that it makes him look more out of place than being a living skeleton already makes him. Everyone tries to act like he isn’t a living skeleton because human decency but I see parents (except Rosemarie’s loving dads) who will mouth “oh my god” and “what the fuck” as they turn to walk away from their home when Job had play dates.

It’s understandable but also kind of mean. We technically have no exact clue on why at least Harold and Job look the way they due because of the Ancient One. Actually, now thinking about it, why does Bianca look the way she does? Even though Harold and Job look equally as strange at least the presumable source is from the eyeball though that still remains vague but Bianca remains a complete mystery. I mean unless there’s some sweet home Alabama stuff going on that they are hiding from the neighborhood, I have no clue why Bianca is sentient skin.

I can’t exactly go up to her and ask,

“Why are you a human skin husk?”

That feels not only rude but unnecessarily aggressive even with the all context. That will have to be something I figure out or hope somehow she over shares in conversation.

Anyway I’ve been rambling too long, for today’s focus I want to talk about their “dog” and cat. I have left some details out, unintentionally given the more pressing matters of wearing your spouse and strange birthday rituals. Let’s start with the less nightmare inducing pet, Zoey.

She’s a pink and gray sphynx cat with a pink collar with a metal tag that says “Zoey” on it. She has one green eye and one blue eye. She’s never allowed outside in the winter but they will let her outside in the fall with a pink sweater on.

Well fun fact about Zoey, she glows in the dark. She glows a bright teal in pure darkness. I’ve seen her dart across my yard many times, sometimes she will get sweaty and leave teal paw prints on the concrete sidewalk that quickly fade.

Her diet mainly consists of rotten meat and dead batteries. She loves dead batteries. Harold and Bianca went door to door one day asking for dead batteries from everyone in order to feed her. Now whenever someone in the neighborhood needs to get rid of any kind of dead batteries including car batteries, Harold and Bianca will happily take them.

Zoey also eats electronics…period. David and Joe once left a smashed flat screen TV out on the sidewalk in hopes of the garbage people taking it the following morning. I looked out the window in my bedroom facing the street which also faces Joe and David’s house. For once I was not tortured by noises by I watched out of grim curiosity. I was going to go to bed but when a real glowing cat is eating your neighbors’ broken TV, you can’t help but stare a bit.

That cat must have a titanium mouth with somehow stronger than titanium teeth. I remember watching her take huge chomps into the TV’s corner and watching it crack before being pulled away violently by her. She gobbled that entire TV down in about an hour. At one point I saw her visibly gagging on the wires. She threw up a strange “hairball”, if that term can even be used, of copper wires. She began playing with the copper wire ball, swatting at it with her glowing paws. She even rolled onto her back exposing her belly to everyone who could see. What I found to be disturbing is that in darkness, she has one huge spot which I think is a giant nipple for all I know that doesn’t glow so it’s just a circle of black among the teal in the night. She sat back up after playing with the copper wire ball for a bit, ate it, and then returned to eating the TV. I started recording at that point and when Zoey finished, I texted the video to David.

I woke up the next morning with a text back that said,

“That cat has got to be from Chernobyl or something.”

Aside from Zoey glowing in the dark, potentially having some type of demon mark or giant nipple on her stomach, and eating electronics. She’s a fairly normal cat.

It’s Sparky that is the true abomination. I think the scariest fact about Sparky that I have yet to mention yet, Sparky is about 6’4” if not taller (I haven’t had the opportunity to exactly measure his height so give me a break). That’s right, this dog man thing towers over everyone. He looks like just some tall dude wearing a cheap but fuzzy dog costume. Bianca mentioned him being a rescue, maybe rescued from Satan’s nightmares but not from any shelter I’ve been to. Sparky moves like a man and even talks like a man but will only ever say “woof”, “bark” or “grr” in the voice of a monotone man who sounds done with life. The suit is brown and my closest breed I guess him to be is a brown lab mix of some kind. He also has these huge cartoon eyes pasted on the dog mask, I would say akin to googly eyes but the pupils don’t move, ever. Other than eating like a dog, I would assume this is just some guy with a puppy fetish but isn’t willing to fully commit to the role. For all I know the suit is his skin, I’ve never seen any gaps to reveal human skin underneath so for all I know Sparky is a living husk like Bianca only with better, more controlled movements.

I think what keeps me awake at night is that Sparky is freakishly athletic and freakishly strong. Harold and Bianca regularly have to replace boards in the wooden fence because he will punch clean through them and break into mine as well as other neighbors backyards. I was once getting some tools out the shed in my backyard and Sparky decided to cleanly leap over the 5ft fence, stare at me, and then he started to do the Dougie. He did not break eye contact with me as he did the Dougie even though I walked into my house carefully not breaking eye contact in case he charged me. I slammed my glass sliding door and locked it. When I turned my back to set down my tools and looked out the sliding glass door, Sparky was hitting the Dougie about a foot away from the sliding door and more intensely.

I texted Harold to come get him, as soon as I could hear Harold’s calls for Sparky getting closer to my back sliding door, he stopping dancing ran back towards to fence leading to Harold and Bianca’s backyard and jumped over it cleanly.

There was an incident Sparky had with a different neighbor that both terrified and perplexed me. You see David and Joe are directly across from me. Next to them and across from Harold and Bianca is a man named Terry. We don’t like Terry. Despite the absurdity of Harold and Bianca, Terry is a horrible person. He has told me on multiple occasions that I would be “prettier if I smiled more” and has literally walked up to Rosemarie to tell her that her dads are going to Hell…in front of her dads as well. We don’t like Terry at all. I would rather live next door to Bianca and Harold than Terry.

Anyway, so you could imagine when the tennis ball Job used to play with Sparky one day rolled under his car, he wasn’t too pleased because why would Terry be rational?

“HEY JACK SKELLINGTON! GET YOUR BALL OUT FROM UNDER MY TESLA?!” Terry screamed as he ran out of his open garage, Job and Sparky were running up to his driveway to get to his car. It was then, with one hand, Sparky grabbed from underneath the passenger door side and flipped the car onto its side.

I know how crazy I sound but I will never forget the sound of the glass breaking as it fell onto its side and car alarms blaring.

Job ran to the tennis ball which was now able to be retrieved in the newly open driveway.

This was when Terry decided to make another totally rational move.

He pushed Job onto the ground and started screaming in his face.

“HEY KRYPTO HERE JUST FLIPPED MY TESLA AND YOUR WORRIED ABOUT YOUR STUPID BALL?!” Terry screamed as his face turned as red as a tomato.

Now, Job cannot make facial expressions but based on his body language this was a scared little boy. I know it was a crazy situation but what did Job do?

I realize how crazy this all sounds, so this next part will make me sound like a lunatic.

Sparky grabbed Terry by his thinning hair, yanking his head back and slightly lifting him off the ground. Then coming down hard, slamming the back of his head into the driveway with a sound I can only describe as throwing a watermelon against concrete. I saw the blood begin to pool immediately. He dragged Terry, still hand holding onto his thinning hair, into the grass of his front yard.

Sparky went back to the Tesla and flipped it back up onto all four wheels. At this point, Job had already run back to his house. Sparky looked at Terry who was propping himself up on his elbows and gave him a thumbs down before walking back to Harold and Bianca’s house.

The police and ambulance were called. Terry somehow did not press charges, which still don’t know why or how to this day. Aside from the broken glass and some dents, the Tesla was actually still functional. Terry does not interact with Harold and Bianca anymore but still harasses David, Joe, and Rosemarie. That is unless Job or Sparky is at their house, then he rightfully shuts the hell up.

Now, I’m not saying that Terry didn’t have it coming rather that I would not want to die at the hands of Sparky.

So yeah, after witnessing those events I have begun to wonder what higher being allowed this? What anomaly broke the laws of nature to punish this neighborhood? Do I need a higher dose of Prozac? Who knows. That will be all for now though, my therapist says to keep writing if it helps.

Hey all, update. I’ll figure out how to link my first post later but for now here’s a bunch of info I get to tell you about me and my neighbors.

I’m on a higher dose of Prozac since regaling my story, I never open the blinds to the window in my bedroom facing their house anymore, and Zoey still won’t stop pooping in my garden. I know it’s her because I see her out of the living room window staring at me. It’s so weird, she will maintain eye contact me. I’m not even sure she blinks. I usually try to look away but every time I try to she starts meowing loudly until I look at her again. It makes me feel gross.

Job had his 9th birthday recently, I was invited. The whole neighborhood was. It wasn’t awkward with Harold and Bianca at this point. They were back to their cheery selves. Not removed from oddity as expected.
When I took the long journey of about 30-40 steps into their backyard (War flashbacks briefly) before being greeted by Bianca.

“Oh Tracy! I’m so glad you could celebrate Job with us!” She said seemingly popping out of thin air grasping my hands over the gift box I was holding. It just felt like someone set a random pair of leather gloves over my hands.

She led me to the long table with about 20 chairs and I sat at one as she took the box with her. The way she was carrying the box made it look like she was moving heavy dumbbells. She was hunched forward, grasping the box with both hands. The only visual description I could give of her carrying the gift box to the sliding glass door was that of a moving swing set on stilts.

When she got to the sliding glass door in their backyard, she began slamming her face violently. For what was the equivalent of lightly smacking a purse against glass, it was louder than expected. What I thought was a horror movie trope playing out in front of my eyes, I would come to learn was just her trying to get Harold’s attention to open the door since her hands were full.

I saw Harold rush from somewhere else inside their house to the sliding glass door, to open it for Bianca.

“Sorry Honey, I was just grabbing Pappy.” He said as he let her trudge by him. I noticed he was carrying what I thought was a large white ball underneath one arm and holding a pillow in his other hand.

He walked outside, I noticed Zoey slipping out (I swear) and him walking up to me. As he got closer I realized it was not a ball, it was an eyeball. The eyeball spun around from underneath his arm to look at me with a milky eye that had hints of once being blue.

It blinked in his arm, crusty eyelids emerging out of god knows where.

I didn’t realize he was right in front of me because I was so focused on the eye.

“Oh I see you’ve met Pappy. Don’t call him that though, he’s only ok with family calling him that?” He said cheerfully as he walked past me to set the pillow and then placing “Pappy” on top of it. “Pappy” was positioned at an angle facing towards the open space in the backyard.

“What should I call him then?” I asked.

“Well I know history knows him as Xenith the Warmonger. You can just call him the Ancient One.”

Why do I even bother at this point? I just gave up at that point, it honestly writes itself.

“What is the Ancient One doing here?”

“Oh well you know, every blood member of my family, which means me and Job, have to demonstrate a variety of skills to Pappy on our birthday each year to prove we are worth keeping alive or else Pappy will smite us.” He replied casually, as he walked up to me again with hands on his hips now.

“That’s indeed something that I know now occurs.” I stated, I wished in that moment I never gave up alcohol. I would rather be pissing in my sink again than have a skinless man explain the eyeball lore to me.

“What will happen if he isn’t impressed with what happens?” I asked jokingly. The mood changed when I looked up at Harold to see a horrified facial expression across his face, it was like a wave of negative energy rushed over me.

“Never say that again.” He said in a tone of voice I had never heard from him before, it was sharp and firm but slightly…anxious.

I recoiled and flung my hands up instinctively as though I was at gunpoint as I sat in one of the many chairs at the table.

His demeanor almost as quickly snapped back as soon as he processed my reaction.

“I’m sorry Tracy, I’m just a little more stressed out than usual. I just…I just want Job to have a good day and make Pappy proud.” I could feel a hint of sadness under the forced charisma.

Soon other guests started arriving, all the neighbors. My favorite neighbors were the neighbors directly across from my house. David and Joe are amazing people, great partners, and loving fathers to Job’s classmate, Rosemarie.

It was always a treat seeing them.

“Hi Trace!” David said as he walked towards me with his arms open for a hug.

I got up walked towards him, and we gave each other a hug before stepping back to converse.

“You see the Ancient One?”

“First birthday? I’ve seen this…maybe grandpa…I don’t know for three birthdays in a row now. I know I don’t want my kid to be judgy but it’s a giant eyeball thing.”

“That’s what I have been saying” I whispered to him intensely.

We sat by each other as we watched Job and Rosemarie who were now playing in the backyard with Sparky.

“Where’s Joe?”

“He’s with Bianca, I made him help her with the rest of the party stuff. She’s so sweet but she needs to work on her upper body strength.”

“Well that’s really nice of you guys.”

“It’s the least we could do for the parents of Rosemarie’s best friend.”

We watched as Sparky squared up throwing haymakers at Job’s skull, knocking it off his head. Rosemarie would pick his skull back off the ground and put it back on his neck and the cycle would repeat.

It was somehow so interesting and disturbing at the same time, Sparky was really winding them up too. I didn’t realize he was a southpaw. I’ll try not to ever fight the man-dog thing.

About thirty more minutes passed before everyone was seated. Bianca served us dinner, Boiled eels stuffed with mayonnaise and radishes. I lied and said I was allergic to eel, I was then given a can of baked beans instead. Turns out lots of people were allergic to eel and the few that weren’t ended up throwing up minutes after eating.
Harold, Job, and even Bianca scarfed down that amalgamation. Job then walked to the open area of the backyard to make an announcement.

“Hello everyone, I’m Job. Today I will do some cool stuff and watch this.” He said clearly but with some shyness.

He started with somersaults and cartwheels before transitioning into a choreographed dance to the song “Numb” by Linkin Park. A slew of things followed including, taking off his own head and holding it as he monologued some random paragraph from Shakespeare, playing Hot Cross Buns on the recorder, and ending it will Sparky beating the shit out of him again only to be rebuilt like a Lego character.

I saw Harold and Bianca’s heads snap towards the Ancient One in my peripheral vision. I turned to look at the Ancient One.

The eyeball began to vibrate before splitting open like a Venus flytrap. Inside was a pile of wet, red, sloppy flesh being cradled by the split eyeball.

Job walked up to the split eyeball and stuck his hands in, he seemed to be searching for something in the mass. He stopped and pulled out a $100 bill in one hand and a handful of Jolly Ranchers in the other.

“PAPPY APPROVES! PAPPY APPROVES!” He cheered with delight as he held the attempt for gifts in victory above his head while running to Harold and Bianca.

Harold and Bianca got up from their seats, meeting Job halfway, and hugged their child. For a moment despite the absurdity of it all, it was nice to see a family so loving. I couldn’t make out what sweet things they were whispering to Job, his happy giggles gave me everything I needed to know though. Even if a husk, a skinless man, and a skeleton child were what comprised this family. A lot of families cannot feel or express the love I witnessed between them that day, I would know…

Just as soon as the absurdity left and came back.

“Oh honey, don’t forget!” Bianca gestured toward the eyeball as they ended their group hug.

“Bianca, what would I do without you?” He gave her a wet bloody kiss on her cheek before walking towards the split eyeball and picking it up off the pillow.

He let the mound of flesh slide onto the ground as he walked back to his wife and child. He was humming pleasantly during the retrieval.

What I witnessed next is something that makes therapists have a thick wallet.

Harold bit into one of the eyeball slices and started chewing hastily.

I saw Job open his mouth as he stood in front of his father.

“Ahhh” he said as he opened his mouth wide.
Moments before I could see Harold spit the chewed up eyeball into Job’s mouth, I felt something yank my arm turning me away from the scene.

I was yanked away by Joe, David’s partner who was sitting across from me. I’m grateful he forced me to turn away. He was gripping my arm so tightly that it left bruising later on.

I know he didn’t mean to hurt me, I knew that because he was using his other hand to help avert and block his vision from the “feeding”.

Joe is a naturally quiet man, he isn’t antisocial rather just a big believer in actions over words. That was exemplified that day, I could tell by the tenseness in his body language he was uncomfortable. I saw David in the corner of my eye who was also faced away from the event happening behind us.

He was chugging a flask of presumably some form of alcohol. We sat there for 20 agonizing minutes. The only noise being Harold crunching into the eyeball like an apple, chewing noisily letting his lips smack before audibly spitting in Job’s mouth.

After 20 minutes followed a moment of silence then I heard small footsteps get closer to me followed by a tug on my shirt.

“Tracy! Tracy! Look!” Job said excitedly.

I turned to see that Job now had icy blue eyes in his eye sockets now. I don’t know what was worse, that they were identical to Harold’s or that despite having no skin Job could blink.

“Wow…that’s cool buddy…” I said forcing every ounce of enthusiasm I could muster along with my smile I forced so hard my jaw hurt for the next day.

“It’s party time! Wooooo!” He said as he ran off somewhere else in the yard.

The rest of the birthday party went on as normal. Opening cards and presents, cake (store bought thank god), and normal yard games. As I played horseshoe, I couldn’t help but notice Sparky and Zoey eating the flesh mound off the ground. Zoey was actually eating it whereas Sparky just shoving it onto his mask-like face leaving a huge stain and more pulverized flesh falling back onto the ground.
Job really liked skateboard I got him, he went on a brief rant about how he could go skateboarding and have Sparky pull him.

He ran up to me and gave me a hug before running to Sparky showing him. Sparky looked up, gave him a thumbs up, and returned to mashing flesh into his face.

A couple of hours later, the party was finally over. I never have tried to speedwalk so subtly in my life.

I got in my house and locked the door. I sent the rest of the night trying to find ways to relax, a bath, cartoons, meditation, the whole works.

It didn’t help that when I went to sleep that night, I saw the Ancient One appear in my dreams. He spoke to me in French with a deep distorted voice as he rolled himself in circles on the ground.

I was told Prozac gives you vivid dreams but this even feels too specific to only attribute to drugs. I don’t know how to feel, I’ll update again. I just wish Zoey would stop clawing at my front door these days.

I haven’t been to the doctor’s office in a long time. It’s weird. It’s so sterile and boring. For most people it’s probably normal but like I mentioned I was only ever brought in if it was absolutely necessary. I would say I’ve been to the doctor’s office less than 15 times to my memory. I was never a sickly child. I mean I threw up here and there, maybe diarrhea or a tummy ache but I never got the cold, flu, or anything similar even as an adult.

I just assumed I had an unusually strong immune system or something. I mean I wasn’t complaining when I would see my snotty and coughing classmates or coworkers throughout the years.

I had gotten x-rays and a blood draw. I pulled some strings with my job to get them done in advance without having to be face to face with the doctor until the results were in (perks of being in healthcare I guess).

The doctor knocked and came into the room.
“Tracy?” The doctor said.

“Dr. Loor? It’s nice to meet you, I’ve heard so many good things about you.”

“Please just call me Chance. My father was Dr. Loor.”

Nepo baby I guess?

He sat down with a Manila folder and opened it to show me the X-Ray.

I was stunned.

The bones appeared cloudy in the images. I didn’t even know that was something that could happen in X-rays as stupid as it makes me sound.

“You seem to have some strange blood condition?” He said as he began to log into the computer in front of him.

“Blood condition?”

“Well usually we see this type of thickness with certain forms of blood cancer but even this goes beyond logic.” He responded as his eyes were locked onto the computer.

I looked down at my hands in my lap.

“Beyond logic? I’m sorry I’m only an OTA, I don’t really know the specifics of all this.”

“Your blood is gelatinous…think like jello. It can be liquidy but mostly it’s a slightly softer solid. It seems to be blocking out any images we can get of your organs or bones. It is practically hiding your organs.” He said in a casual tone.

“No human could live without organs though, that would be insane?” He laughed.

I fake laughed with him feeling beads of sweat form on my forehead.

“It’s probably just that your blood is so thick it’s messing with the imaging. It’s also interesting how incredibly low your blood pressure is. Do you eat much sodium?” He asked now making eye contact with me.

I thought of the many cheesy products in my fridge and freezer.

“No.” I lied.

“Well that would make sense with these results then.” He remarked now turning his attention back to his computer screen.

“Not many recorded visits in your chart.”

“My adoptive mom is not big into doctors, believes in alternative medicine.”

“Adoptive?” He remarked, his body now tense.

“Yeah, my birth mom got knocked up when she was a teen. Didn’t have the resources to take care of me so she gave me to my adoptive parents.” I explained.

He froze and then put his hand to his chin like he was thinking.

“Screw it, it’s technically not a HIPAA violation if they are dead.” He said as he moved closer to me in the office chair.

“My father told me of a case of a woman, around your age, who also had unusually thick blood. The only difference being my dad said her heart was visible. Clear as day.”

I felt something drop in my body, since it’s clear now I have no fucking stomach to drop.

“She died a couple months later from abusing painkillers. She used them to manage her condition apparently because she reported the pain getting worse over the years. She did report having gestational hypertension but there was no record of a child. My dad assumed miscarriage from the drug abuse and sent her on her way eventually after some further tests.”

I stopped to think. Could this be mom? Why was she in so much pain? Did I cause her pain?Though only one question came out of my mouth.

“Is there any way you could pull up her record?” I asked slightly stumbling over my words.

“I mean…they aren’t gonna fire me probably because of my dad so yeah I’ll try to look her up. Do you have her name?” He said scooting back over to the computer and typing on the keyboard.

Ignoring the possible legal implications and otherwise unspecified corruption aside I responded.

“Elizabeth but apparently her nickname was Lee based off the information written on her photographs. My adoptive mom did everything in her power to make me know as little about my birth mom as possible. She would even scribble out her last name on any document or photo that had her full name.” I explained.

To this day, I don’t know why Kelly was so insistent on me knowing so little about my birth mom in general down to her last name. Hell, I didn’t even know her exact birthday, I only know my birth mom was born in October.

Chance kept clicking and typing until he perked up, clapped his hands together, and then began reading the information.

“Lee Goulett, born 10/09/86 was declared dead in her apartment from accidental drug overdose as evidenced by consistent history of…”
He went on and on because it became background noise to the one thing thatrang out in my head.

Goulett.

Harold Goulett.
Bianca Delgado-Goulett.
Job Delgado-Goulett.

FUCK.

WAS THERE A CHANCE I?!

No fucking way.

I mean he does have 11 siblings but wouldn’t I have recognized her in the wedding video?

Wouldn’t I have known my own mom’s face?

Maybe it isn’t her original face. What if Kelly fabricated them?

Was my whole life a fucking lie?

It was then I heard Chance make a pained groaning sound that snapped me out of my trance, he was grabbing his head.

I stood up reflexively and backed away.

“Chance, are you ok?” I asked in a concerned tone of voice.

He grabbed his head and buried his head into his lap letting out a scream that was muffled before sitting up completely straight.

His brown eyes now milky white with hints of blue.

The Ancient One.

He stood up, opened the door, and pushed me out into the hallway.

“I will take care of this, have a nice day.” He said now speaking in a French accent before slamming the door in my face.

I ran out of the hospital, into the parking lot, and towards my car faster than I had in my entire life. I flung the door open, scrambling inside to start it, and drove off…going the speed limit because I don’t want to get a ticket.

I drove with rage bubbling inside me, I kept thinking about a line Bianca said over and over as I got closer to home.

The perfect form of chaos is perfect symmetry.

No wonder I looked like a copy paste version of my mom.

It felt like forever but I parked in my driveway, barely turning off my car before flying out of my drivers side seat, barely closing the car door.

I made a straight line towards the Goulett’s front door.

Sparky was in my way, I pushed his ass to the side of me onto the ground. At that point I didn’t care if he would kill me after, I needed to confront that crusty ass eyeball.

I banged my fist on the door, Zoey rubbed up against my leg which did little to calm me down.

The door was opened by Bianca who made as close as she could to a startled facial expression.

“Bianca?! I wasn’t expecting-“

“Move.” I said as I forced my way in. I scanned the house looking for that demon.

“Tracy? What’s wrong?”

“A lot but where’s the eyeball?”

“Tracy I-“

“WHERE. IS. THE. EYEBALL.” I said forcefully.

“Basement” she said, while lowering her head.

I booked it straight to that basement door, opening it and almost tripping down the steps.

I saw it sitting there on its same pillow from the birthday party.

I got to eye level (pun intended) with this thing.

“What the hell did you do to my mom?” I asked bordering on screaming.

It only responded in that distorted French. I don’t speak French. So, I just kept yelling like any irrational human would.

“LEE GOULETT?! My mom?! The one with only maybe had a skeleton but for sure a heart?! THE SAME PERSON WHO I JUST LEARNED SHARES THIS FAMILY’S LAST NAME?! I KNOW YOU DID SOMETHING!” I screamed at it as it just continued to speak French but in a slightly angrier tone.

It was then the ground started to shake and Harold popped out of the ground beside us like a gopher.

“Lee Goulett? There’s no Lee Goulett’s in my family?” He said casually.

“Elizabeth Goulett? Come on she’s from this area, how do you think my adoptive parents found her ad? It was from this place’s newspaper!?” I yelled at Harold.

He stopped to think but then Mamaw and Pipi also rose from the dirt like gophers poking their head out of the dirt.

“Oh no dearie, none of our children are named Elizabeth or Lee…or cousins or siblings or half siblings…ummm” Mamaw explained but paused at the end.

“Or any set of grandparents or parents.” Pipi added.

“Thank you, Bert.” She added.

I stood up fully slightly calmed down.

“I know Goulett isn’t an exclusive last name but come on, I have no organs I learned and I share your last name…technically.” I remarked.

“Oh yeah you are related to us, you aren’t wrong.” Harold said confidently.

“What?”

“Everyone in this neighborhood is related to the Goulett Family. Our family.”

Huh.

It was then I heard the faint sounds of Bianca yelling “No!” Repeatedly followed by heavy footsteps moving swiftly.

I turned around to see Sparky fully sprinting down the stairs and beelining it toward me with perfect running form.

“WOOF! WOOF! WOOF!” He announced in a monotone man’s voice only slightly louder.

Oh shit.

He fully tackled me and my head hit the ground real hard.

I passed out.