u/TV_Atla

[removed]

Got a series and find it difficult to find readers to stick through to the end? Has your love for soap operas and compelling, episodic television led to a well written series no one seems to have the attention span to read?

points at the camera

Well not anymore! For the low, low price of a reading of my story, I’ll double your offer. That’s right, I have a series of my own. However, in this writing economy a simple crit for crit isn’t enough to hit it big. That’s why, for every one chapter you read of my story, I’ll read TWO of your’s.

Starwipe transition

And that’s not all, I guarantee I will provide substantial critique for your work. As a creative writing major, I know a thing or two because I’ve seen a thing or two. and if you aren’t satisfied, I’ll throw in a THIRD CRIT at no cost to you!

Order now while supplies last!

Series Part 1: https://www.reddit.com/r/TalesFromTheCreeps/s/7dRg7dP07h

I am the luckiest woman on earth. When the sun shines upon me I smile knowing every minute aspect of my life is looked after and catered to by men as loyal as dogs. There’s not a moment my teeth don’t peer from behind my smiling lips at the wonders my loving husband has conjured before me. I’m the luckiest woman on earth.

That’s what everyone tells me, at least.

Every night I force a laugh to appease the passive-aggressive envy that the trophy wives let slip behind their venomous, lipstick smeared teeth. They’re so happy to tell me how lucky I am to be engaged to my beloved, all while their own husbands stroke each other's golf clubs across the green for hours.

“I know I shouldn’t say this…”

Then please don’t.

“But… I mean look at him.”

I’ve done so before.

“Not to mention his job.”

The most attractive thing about a man, I’ll give you that.

“You’re destined to be First Lady one of these days.”

GOD NO.

“All, I’m saying is… you’re so-”

Lucky. That was its name printed in black ink. It stared at me from a laminated sheet while the real Lucky did the same from behind the shit-smeared bars that stood between us. We stayed like that a while, its yellow eye locked on to my dark irises. And mine locked onto his missing socket. I thought the name was fitting as it was clear the cat had been through hell at some point, that empty socket was one of many faded battle scars that would have been doom for lesser felines. I wonder if he liked the name. Probably not. If he was really lucky he’d have both his eyes. Likely wouldn’t be in a shelter either. Might even know how to use a litterbox. And if he was really lucky, he’d be me.

My attention fell from the cat and to the bars between us. My thumb fidgeted the silver ring clinging to my finger. Lucky…

I reached out to place a pale finger between the bars. This earned me a swipe and hiss followed by what I could assume to be a stern talking to. Unfortunately, I did not speak cat.

“Oh he’s um… not too fond of people,” the timid voice of the rescue worker reminded me that Lucky and I were not alone in this room. I nodded to her in response before hissing back at Lucky. He blinked slowly, the worker mumbled something to herself.

“I think I’ll take him,” I said without looking away.

“Are you sure… he doesn’t seem to like you.”

“I need a barn cat to catch rats. He seems the type. Besides, I hear he’s Lucky.”

A few seconds of silence passed before I sighed, “That was a joke.”

“You’re kinda weird, ma’am.”

I remember wishing animal shelters accepted tips so that I could stiff this lady, but instead I asked her to kennel up the cat and secretly giggled when Lucky shared his opinions with her as well.

On the way out, when I was scribbling my name across the paperwork, I went through a rehearsed conversation when the receptionist asked, “Hey… aren’t you married to-”

“Engaged, but yes.”

“Oh my god! You know, I went to school with him. We actually went to prom together.”

“Wow… that’s cool,” I had met three other women with the same story and had secretly been hoping to finish my collection with mystery woman number four. She matched his type. Blonde hair, light eyes, full chest. I wondered when his appetites changed, or if he just picked me because I looked classy enough to have at his shoulder to prevent others from whispering behind his back.

I knew the next words by heart.

“You are so-”

Lucky. I had been wondering what I was craving for the past week and couldn’t put my finger on it. It hit me just before Brookshires became a distant image in my rearview mirror. Lucky Charms. I really wanted some Lucky Charms. When I walked the aisles everyone was staring at me, I didn’t think 27 was too old to be eating Lucky Charms, but by the way people craned their necks to goggle, I’d have thought I was grabbing a box of Busch at 11am. An elderly worker approached me. I readied myself to fight for my cereal.

“Ma’am,” she said, “Would you mind leaving your cat outside.”

That made more sense. I had only uncovered the secrets of my cravings on the way back from the animal shelter, and it’s not as if I could’ve just left Lucky in the car under the Texas summer sun. So, he needed to come with me. This was a decision he abhorred of course and, used a well thought out argument to detail why I should leave him in the car. However, the well said and structured argument was lost on both I and the various shoppers who heard nothing but rabid hisses and growls.

“Oh,” I said, “yeah, I didn’t want to leave him in the car.”

“Well, we’re going to have to ask you to leave.”

“I was heading that way now.”

“We can’t check you out.”

“Look, I’m just getting cereal, me and the cat will be gone-”

“Ma’am, we have a very strict-”

The argument was cut short when a plump man in clothes fit for a manager materialized behind the worker, “That’s enough, Cathy. Why don’t you help Jackson in the back.”

She made her exit post scowl, leaving me with my knight in shining armor. I nodded thanks to him, hoping I could finally heed Lucky’s many requests to leave, but this man made it clear a conversation was unavoidable.

He smiled in a way that showed off his Veneers before speaking, “Sorry, she’s a bit of a stickler for the rules.”

“It’s fine, thank you.”

“You don’t remember me, huh?”

Should I? “Oh! You um… do look familiar!”

“Country Club. Almost swindled your man out of a grand on the course.”

Goddamn it. “Oh! Of course!”

“I gotta tell ya, that’s a good man.”

“The best…”

“You are so-”

Lucky. I was lucky to get out of there when I did. I just barely managed to dodge the gathering of grieving families with fliers of realities that no one was brave enough to tell them weren’t just missing. It broke my heart a bit to see them hold on to hope for so long. I’d barely managed to dodge them today, but other days I’d have to look them in their broken eyes as they handed me a photo of their missing loved one. Broke my heart every time.

It just sucked. Normally, I would be hopeful for them. However, after these past few months I’ve been unable to find a single glass in this town half full. Not after seeing the images my husband left on his desk. The images of the relatives that were found. My mind drifted back. Elongated limbs and ripping skin. Their faces contorted into unimaginable agony. The color of-

“Is that you,” a tiny voice behind me broke me out of my trance. I turned to see a tiny old woman holding a bundle of fliers.

Fuck.

“Hey there,  Ida,” I said with a smile. This time a real one. Ida I was never close with, but her niece I was. Marie, a quiet woman who rarely opened her mouth at the country club, something I was drawn to. She also happened to be the first in the town to go missing.

Ida smiled, the many creases on her face that surrounded her face rubbed each other with enough friction to melt my heart, “I knew it was you. No one else in this town has hair like that!”

I giggled at what I hoped was a compliment as she handed me a flier of Marie. I couldn’t look her in the eye. Either of them. Ida sighed, “Has your husband mentioned…”

I shook my head.

She nodded, “Is it bad to say I’m glad more people vanished? I know that sounds bad… but those rumors spread after they found Jackson.”

“I get it… People just didn’t know her. She wasn’t the type,” even if she should have been.

Ida looked back to the crowd of doubters, her smile wavered, “I never liked that man. He never dirtied his coat for her.”

Busted a knuckle or two on her though, “Yeah… I wasn’t a fan either.”

“It breaks my heart to see everyone treat him like Christ on the Cross. That man was rotten. I was so lucky to have a good one like Roge. You too, honey, you are so-”

Lucky. I am so fucking Lucky.

Lucky didn’t feel like leaving his kennel. Cried since the moment he got in but when that door was finally open he shut the fuck up and fell asleep inside. I rolled my eyes. Was the barn not good enough for him? I could take his ass back to the animal shelter. See how many snot nosed brats walked past him before they stuck him with a needle and threw him out back.

That was mean.

I apologized for the thought and left the barn to look out over the rolling hills before me. A sea of flowing green that held the renovated plantation afloat. A stark white monolith staining the emerald ocean. Of course, the grass wasn’t the only green keeping it standing. In truth, this place should have rotted decades ago but old money feeds its roots and my beloved’s family had no shame in where they made their fortune. They made sure the paint didn’t so much as chip when they gave it to their lovely son and his future bride.

Minutes passed without my eyes leaving it. I spat and turned back to the hills. These weren’t free of his family’s grip either, but they couldn’t choose who built monstrosities upon their visage. They were simply hills. One could argue the house was simply a house, but it’s easy to forget that when the architecture was sculpted to make slavers appear like gods. 

You’re just so

I looked back to see Lucky had vacated the kennel.

You’re just so

The thought occurred to me his name was starting to match his fortune.

You’re just so

My foot collided with the kennel and sent it into the nearby pile of damp hay. I took a breath and told myself it was time to collect the eggs.

I hate farm work. All work, really, but farm work in particular always made me grumble and complain, not dissimilar to a cat forced into a kennel. Tending to the cows was a headache (they hated me), the horses were stressful (they hated me), and the goats made a game out of ramming the back of my knees (do I really need to say?) The sole exception to this torture was collecting the eggs from the chickens. I felt a connection with the hens and them with me. When I hummed a soft melody to them they would chirp and rise to allow me to take their bounty. Hated when my dear husband did it, he was a master when dealing with every other animal, but the chickens didn’t allow him to leave without drawing blood.

The tin door creaked as I pulled it open causing the birds to scatter and protest before they heard my voice, “As I went down in the river to pray, studying about the good ole’ way and who shall wear that starry crown good Lord show me the way.”

Protests slowly silenced themselves, but feathers remained raised which was uncharacteristic of my poultry friends. I began conversation, something I did far too often to be considered healthy, “What’s up, fellas? There drama in the hen house today? Is Teddy Roostervelt sleeping around again?”

Whatever the hubbub was must have been a private matter because no answer was offered, just more panicked glances around at the dusty pen, “Oh well,” I replied, tossing feed onto the ground, “This should cheer you up.”

It did indeed, in less than a few pecks not a feather was ruffled. A smile finally found its way to my face as I got to my favorite part, stepping over the eager birds to the tin hut at the back, just barely aged with rust and vine, “Okay girls, what have we-”

Something was wrong. The moment I stepped near I could taste it. Like there were pennies on my tongue. This wasn’t an unfamiliar taste, I’d gone to bed with the metallic sensation slithering between my teeth for years. If I lived a thousand centuries I’d never forget the taste of blood.

It was Henlory Clinton, a name too humorous for the horrible scene before me. Her chest was carved open with something jagged and sharp before her insides were cleared to make a hollow cage of visible, bloody ribs. Her fellow hens looked upon her mangled form with fear and the closest thing a hen could conjure to sadness. Her head was the worst part, it sat at the end of the shack, crookedly standing atop a ravaged throat, the head tilted downward enough for the black eye to stare at me. I knew she wasn’t blaming me. However, seeing that blank, dead eye reflect me back on its surface made my stomach churn.

Eun.

“Honey?”

I jumped and turned at the sudden noise to see a large blue form blocking my way to the door. There was a mental effort to revive my long dead middle school martial arts lessons before I realized it would be pointless. The form was just my dear husband. He backed away upon seeing he startled me, “Sorry! I was calling your name and-”

“Jesus,” I was catching my breath, “Didn’t think you’d be here so early.”

“I’m late actually, and- oh my god.”

He had finally seen Mrs. Clinton. I elected not to follow his gaze, my eyes watched the orange sun dipping below the swirling lava flow of the horizon. How long had I been out here?

“Think it was a fox,” he asked.

I shrugged, “Never known them to pace themselves. Any fox I’ve met would have left this whole place a blood bath.”

“Maybe,” he said, his eyes looked over my shoulder to the pen. My eyes dropped from the sun to the golden badge where I saw the same splash of dark red. Now I was focused on his eyes which seemed heavy with exhaustion, “What is it?”

He walked past me to the pen. I let him.

***

“Media is likely going to want a statement tonight, and after that I don’t see any good publicity that can come from a good night's rest,” I nodded as I stared at the chicken coop from our bedroom window.

“Who was it?”

“Some hermit,” he replied, “Only one of the deputies knew him. Lived off the land as much as he could. Guess that’s why it took so long before someone realized he was missing.”

“What’s that? The seventh one?”

“Yeah, seventh one since Jackson and his wife went missing.”

“Marie,” I corrected him.

“What?”

“Her name was Marie, not Jackson’s wife.”

“… Right.”

It was hard to see under the night sky, but I could just barely make out the form of the coop, “And you’re sure it wasn’t just a bear or something?”

“Most bears don’t stretch their food to death so… yeah..”

I didn’t say anything.

“Sorry,” he said.

“It’s fine.”

We didn’t say anything, not for a while at least. It was getting to the point that I wondered if he had somehow left the house while dodging every floorboard creak in this ancient building. This theory was demolished by his request, “It would look good for my wife to be at my side at the conference. People are starting to believe you’re a shut in.”

There were a lot of things I could have said in that moment about what he actually cared about and how little I, in turn, could care about what the tiny people in this tiny town thought of me. I thought about how lucky I must be to have a husband that worries and agonizes over what his shitty little golf buddies think about his weird little wife. I thought about how lucky.

“I really should stay. Whatever killed my hen is bound to come back.”

He was silent again. I had hoped this was the start of him leaving and it almost was. From his reflection in the window I saw him turn and stomp his way to the doorway. However, just before he passed through, he stopped. His hand rested on the ancient wall paper which at one time had depicted vibrant nettles. He stayed there. His hand flexed with veins. It was almost as if he was falling and that one hand was keeping him from plummeting into the darkness of the house. In an instant, he slammed it into the wall before turning to face me, “sometimes I… I just can't understand you. Do you know what it’s like? To go out there and see my citizens-”

“Your citizens? You’re not mayor yet, dar-”

“My fucking friends torn apart by some maniac. A-and when I get home it’s just this. Ice.”

I said nothing, but my eyes watched him in the reflection. His own eyes turned to his hand which had left a sizable dent in the wall. Seconds later, that hand dropped at his side, the reflection shimmered as light caught the edges of his father’s silver cuff links. From a certain perspective he almost appeared weighed down by the metal at his wrists. Chained even. Something rang within me. It would have been foolish to call it a pang of guilt as that pang was muffled under oceans of resentment. But there was a pang.

“I know this agreement isn’t ideal for you,” he started, “I wasn’t happy with it either. However, our parents invested a lot into this and with my father gone I am the head of this family. I… I just don’t think I can hold it all on my own.”

I said nothing.

That’s how the conversation ended. My darling husband ran off to save the day while I sat in the ancient house haunted by sin and history. The pang returned. I needed something to focus on.

The form of the coop rested in the murky depths of the night sky. It was a new moon tonight, the sprawling canvas of blue grey starlight bled its dim light over our yard, it just barely concealed any predators that might be lurking towards the chicken coop.

I didn’t like it when he was here. Never knew what to do with myself and what I did manage somehow felt like a disappointment. Didn’t make sense to me why I cared if I disappointed him, not like either of us held the other’s opinion in high regard. Maybe it’s human nature to avoid disappointing our fellow man. I didn’t like it when he was here. But I hated it when he wasn’t.

This house. It almost seemed to breathe when I was alone. Distant ticking of a grandfather clock reverberated off the ancient wooden walls like the pulse of a great beast. I’d often imagine the living room swell and compress before swallowing me into the deep belly of the earth where the worms and burrowing creatures would break me down till I was indistinguishable from the slaves buried on the property. No one could convince me this place couldn’t swallow someone whole when it had done so before. Part of me wished I had joined my husband.

I grabbed the trusty 30 ought 6 and sat on the porch to watch for this predator. Might be a little overkill for a simple fox, but it was the only weapon in the house that was mine. I hugged it like a lover as my chosen rocking chair creaked in rhythm with the nighttime symphony. A symphony that was joined by the crying of a lonely tom cat.

I chuckled to myself, “Lucky…”

Sprek

No part of me remembered falling asleep. It was certainly a concern since I was exhausted from my busy day of doing nothing, but I had contingencies. The creaking of the rocking chair had created something akin to a beat and I spent my time imagining lyrics to various songs over said beat. Turns out this functioned as a lullaby and I had passed out snuggling my rifle and only came to when the screaming from the chicken coop reached its climax.

The moment I woke I understood my mistake and cursed before sprinting into the dark toward the vague shape of a distant chicken coop. I was only halfway there when I tripped and heard a Bocok exclaim into the night. When I looked back I was staring at Teddy Roostervelt who strutted free of his coop, happily pecking at the ground. The fact he was here and not in the coop could only mean-

The coop was destroyed. Something had torn through the chicken wire like tissue paper, and whatever it was stood about 5 feet taller than a fox. What it left behind was sadistic. I couldn’t tell which parts belonged to who anymore. A mangled poultry head hung from the wire roof, bloody feathers floated down through the air when they were too free of gore to drip. Once again, the air was filled with that familiar, sickening taste of bloody death.

This time however, I was certain of something I had only suspected before. This level of violence. The overwhelming sadism that was displayed by the scene couldn’t have been achieved on the base instinct of an animal. Whatever did this had acted on darker intentions than simply eating to survive. This was no predator. It was a human.

“Hello.”

It was behind me, muffled and quiet but certainly behind me. I saw images of a monster hidden beneath a black mask. In an instant I had turned to face the darkness with my rifle held at ready. My ignorant eyes scanned the unyielding blackness for the source of the noise. However, any attempt was useless. If I hadn’t just heard this person, I would have thought no one was there.

“You’re on private property,” I was speaking without even realising. And as such my words came with quakes and stutters that let slip my vulnerability.

“Holy shit! Holy shit! Fuck! I hear you! Where are you!”

“Somewhere you shouldn’t be, get the fuck out of here,”

Something wasn’t right. 

“I’m armed and I swear to god!” 

Whoever this was sounded terrified. 

“ I will put you down!” 

A tweaker maybe? That would explain the carnage.

“Please! You gotta help me, I don’t know where the fuck I am!”

My eye continued scanning the darkness in a vein attempt to pierce its veil. Eventually, I said fuck it and reached for my phone. As I did the man’s voice began a panicked, violent weep, “please, please, please, please. Where are you? I can’t see you.”

When my phone finally cut through the shade of the new moon’s night, I was confronted with no one. It was just me within the remains of the chicken pen. I searched and spun and looked everywhere I could before the evidence was irrefutable, there was no one here, “Where are you?”

“I don’t know man! I don’t fucking know! I’ve been walking in this forest for 7 hours. I… I don’t think the moon has moved…”

I shook my head, “What?”

“I TOLD YOU I DON’T KNOW WHERE THE FUCK I AM!!!”

I nodded, “Okay! Okay… C-can you see me?”

“No… no I can’t fucking see you…”

“You’re in a forest?”

“Y-Yeah.”

“I’m in my chicken pen right now, are you sure you’re not just near a forest-”

“No! I’m shaking hands with a tree right now, lady. I’ve been walking forever I haven’t seen a single house or person or whatever the fuck! I just heard you walking and called out.”

“Listen. I am not in a forest. So how are we hearing each other?”

There was a long silence before I heard him again, “Oh my god… are you shining that light?”

I didn’t get to answer before I noticed movement on the ground, my eyes fell to see a small object slither from the earth and wiggle in the gore and dust. A human finger, “You’re under ground?!”

“No! No, I'm looking at the moon! You’re underground!”

Then it clicked. Finally, I caught that bit I’d let pass unnoticed the first time, “Dude, it’s a new moon. There’s no way you can be looking at the moon right now.”

“Lady, I can see it with my own- Wait, that doesn’t look… Can you see the sky?”

I nodded before realizing it was useless, “Yes.”

“You’re fucking with me.”

“Put your eye to the hole and see if I’m fucking with you.”

The finger slithered back before a long silence passed. Eventually, I heard him again. And when it did, it did so with the shaking, broken voice of a man whose entire reality was crumbling around him, “how…”

“Look, I can get you out of there but you have to tell me what happened. You said you were walking for 7 hours. Where were you before that?”

“I was… I was at home, on my property. I-I’m pretty sure I fell into a cave or something.”

“A cave?”

“Yeah, I stepped on some unstable ground around these mushrooms and I fell through. Was out for God knows how long and woke up in this forest.”

I decided I’d indulge in curiosity myself, putting my eye to the hole where I was greeted by the bright silver glow of a full and alien moon. It looked similar, but the markings on its face which I had studied closely on sleepless nights were that of a stranger. That was, “Impossible.”

“Look lady, I don’t know what’s going on but I gotta get outta here. Please, please, get a shovel and dig me out or something.”

“Yeah,” I said, slowly gathering myself and coming down from the impossible discovery, “Yeah… My husband is the sheriff. I’ll call him and-”

“Fuck that! I need to get out of here now. They’re going to find me.”

“Who’s they? I thought you said you hadn’t seen anyone?”

“These things aren’t people, man. They’ve been hunting me. I-I’m bleeding and I just really need to get out right now- Oh… oh shit…”

“What?”

“No! Stay away! Get away from me!”

“What’s happening!”

“Noooo,” as I heard him scream, his voice almost seemed to distort, the sound became strangely pitched and strained before it became something I couldn’t describe as human. As it grew more and more difficult to describe, I felt a strange sensation. It was as if my body was being pulled.

You know when you were a kid and you’d hang upside down on the monkey bars? All the blood would rush to your head as gravity did its best to pull you back down to solid earth. It was like that. Blood rushed forward. I noticed my hair whipping and moving on its own, almost seeming to be sucked towards the hole. That’s when I saw the ground.

It was warping. Not moving. Warping. It wasn’t so much that dirt was being sucked in, the very earth was stretching. The details of it grew distorted and strange like the lettering on a rubber bracelet pulled taught. I jumped back from the hole and to my feet, turning to run to the house as his scream deepened into the low, horrific roar of a cosmic void. No desire to save the man remained. I needed to run, needed to escape. However, that was easier said than done. Each step was an Olympian feat, like running in a dream. Step after laborious step and still I was getting nowhere. My vast strides, try as they might, could not escape the 5 foot radius of the chicken pen. The roar grew louder. The earth began to slope down into the abyss. I couldn’t run anymore; the ground was now a wall. I was falling down an endless tube into darkness and the infinite singularity at the bottom.

The roar was cut off, my back collided with the bloody ground as the momentum of that force enacted its last bit of agency over me. I laid in the dirt hyperventilating as my eyes stared at the tiny hole in my chicken coop. My brain told me more was coming, that a great beast would burst through the earth and drag me down into that world bathed in alien silver. Yet, it never happened. The beast was already here as I heard the cries of Lucky, who was unlucky enough to find it.

I don’t know what drove me. What horrid god struck me with the strength and courage to stand my ground. But before I knew it, I was on my feet and walking toward the barn, by rifle tacky with dried blood. Inside I could hear the feral screaming of Lucky which grew more and more congested with gurgled gags. Lights danced through the open door despite no bulb in that building being able to conjure such colors. My breath was rapid. My legs shook. I lifted the rifle and stepped inside.

It crouched before the mountain of hay, feasting upon the bloody remains of Lucky who’s head had been discarded to the far corner of the barn. Small orbs of dancing, shifting light swirled around the creature’s body as it snapped and ripped and chewed and swallowed. From my angle I could see the visible ribs through its ash grew skin which almost seemed to glitter like starlight. Beside that, nothing much else was visible. However, I didn’t need more to see it was human.

“H-hey!”

Its eyes proved me wrong the moment they pierced my body with unseen daggers. Brilliantly vibrant and massive like that of an owl, they studied me, unblinking as I shook and studied back. I saw its long, dark green hair bristle and raise in agitation. I held my gun steady and spoke through fear, “D-don’t come any closer. Just… just get out of my barn.”

The creature didn’t move for a long while and when it did, it was to scan the area with its eyes, “Maee Barne?”

Oh god, it can speak.

“Yes! My barn! Leave my barn now, or I’ll shoot.”

It finally stood upright, its nude form revealed it to be female and almost human enough to mistake. If it wasn’t for the eyes, the quill like hair, the ears.

“Good, now just leave.”

Instead, it stood still facing me, “Mai Burn?”

“Yes! Leave my barn!”

“My Barn.”

Its eyes shrunk to slits and a smile found its lips, “My Barn, Eun!”

At that moment, the barn was gone. The rafters, the walls, each and every rusty nail instantaneously vanished and was replaced by a snowfall of pure white feathers. I gasped and squeezed the trigger, firing blindly in the fog of poultry. I heard whatever it was hiss and footfalls crossing the dirt. To my left I saw a flash of dark green. I cursed and pulled back the bolt, casting the casing into the storm of feathers.

Before I could push the bolt back and chamber another round I felt the breath in my throat halt and my feet flail as they searched for ground. This creature had me by the throat with two hands as solid as redwood. They squeezed as it watched me with pupils so thin they the whole eyeball appeared yellow. I gagged and instinctively grabbed her wrist in defense. The moment I did, the air ignited in emerald flame and the creature screeched before vanishing into the falling feathers.

“Réalt,” it called out, “titim!”

I lifted my rifle and waited for her oak leaf hair to peer from the white. I searched and searched and just as I found her in the storm, a meteorite met ground between us.

It was the crack that I heard before anything. The same divine fracture that sounds off in response to lightning touching to earth. After that, it was the heat. It brought back memories of baking with my grandmother. Opening that oven door to feel a wave of piercing heat. Lastly, a feeling I had no reference for. The force of the blast was so great, so oppressive that nothing in my 27 years on this planet could compare. I was on my back before I felt the pain. And gagging on sulphur before I could gasp for breath. 

A bare foot collided with my sternum, I coughed in response, squinting through the singed feathers to make out her out line, only alight by her faintly glowing eyes. Her hand lifted, pointing to the sky as those beautiful eyes narrowed to slits, “Réalt!”

There was nothing I could do. The gun was nowhere near me and even if it was, my body was in no position to grab it. Those middle school martial arts lessons in their prime would have done nothing to this thing. This… oddly beautiful thing. I could only stare. Stare forward into her eyes. Her eyes…

The narrowed pupils pulsed, then they widened to vast pools of dark water. There was something in them. I felt a warmth in my chest. Her raised hand lowered and she removed her foot.

For a moment she was still, if not for the wind animating her mane I’d have thought I had died and was witnessing my last image eternally. When she did finally move, it wasn’t away. She knelt atop me and pressed her forehead to mine. Her eyes were all I could see. Her pupils almost took the entirety of the surface with only the smallest ring of yellow light shining beneath. Like twin eclipses inches from my face. And like the sun, I basked in that warmth, “Lonnaigh.”

She left. I made no effort to watch her go. Even if I wanted to, there was no way my broken body would have been capable. So, as the beautiful monster scurried deep into the forest I did what I could. I stared into the stars above me which seemed to shine with a brilliance I had never witnessed before. The whole of the universe opened before me as my breath became steady and I watched. Soon my breath faded into the background. Then the whole world followed with it.

As I sat under that endless sky it felt as if the whole of earth had vanished beneath me and I was soaring across the stars. My bare consciousness free of want and longing. Free of duty. Free of luck. Free to wander the stars and bathe in their aging blue glow. I felt as if I spent eons in that dance.

Until my darling husband’s face blocked my view and I came crashing back into my broken body.

I never told anyone what really happened that day. They only knew of a freak accident when a meteorite destroyed our barn and ravaged our chicken coop. The story made a few headlines in the local papers, but it wasn’t for long. The next missing person’s case ushered my face off the front page faster than you’d expect but slower than I’d have liked. Even still, I got to hear it when I was in the emergency room. I was just so…

You get it.

That was about a month ago and I still don’t know what to make of it all. The creature, the voice in the hole, the multiplying bodies. It feels so frightening at times. Like I’ve stumbled across something dangerous.

That doesn’t stop me from leaving food at the edge of the forest, though. Because despite everything I can’t get the image of her eyes out of my mind. In them I saw a spark. A tiny sliver of flint that has set my soul alight because in those eyes was wonder, brilliance, divinity. I just feel like she seemed so…

Free.

Last week is when I first noticed it. I was walking through Target, deciding the nutritional difference between Diet Pepsi and cans of carbonated lemonade when I became aware of the fact I was being watched. My immediate reaction was to spin around, see which co-worker or drinking buddy stumbled across me and decided to stare instead of greet me. I did a full rotation, then another. Nobody. The aisle was shared by only myself and an elderly Asian man.

I remember glaring at him for a minute before grabbing my buggy and hurrying off. Pushing my way to the other side of the store, hoping that would get him off my back. After my exodus to the clothing section, I took a breath and thought about what just happened. There was something weird going on. This was far from my first time being ogled. I’d spent most of my adult life catching the quick glances men thought were oh so sneaky. I’d even felt the eyes stuck in the back of my head before. But this? This was the first time that feeling made me so uncomfortable. I was at least glad it was-

The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. I could still feel it. My eyes darted left to right and just before he vanished I caught the Asian man rounding the corner. I remember thinking to myself how much of a pervert he was before abandoning my buggy and storming out of Target. The whole time I could still feel it. Unmistakable knowledge that something was watching me. My pace quickened, hoping I could outrun the old man’s gaze but it persisted. Those unseen eyes stayed glued to me as I got in my car. Started the engine. Opened my GPS.

It was making me paranoid knowing that someone could see me. My eyes kept traveling to the rear view mirror expecting to see the old man already sitting back there. It never happened, but 2 minutes later I saw him slowly shuffling out of the store. I laid on my horn, flipped him the bird, and sped off out of the parking lot. By the time I hit the highway my breath was heavy and I couldn’t feel sweat dotting my pale skin. It’s hard to describe the sensation, you know? It’s not just that someone was watching me, it was that it felt like something was coming. There was an anticipation. Kinda like when you say, “I have a funny picture to show you.” Then you just have to sit there and scroll through your photos while the other person watches you. It felt like that, only there was no release at the end. The pressure was just building and building. Even as I drove I still wasn’t past it. I hoped with a few songs on the radio, I’d be able to push it all from my mind.

By the time I pulled into my garage, I realized the old man had nothing to do with it. I was still being watched.

The rest of that day was wasted. My boyfriend was pulling a double and normally that would provide me the perfect opportunity to read. That sensation made any thought of that impossible. I couldn’t make it through a single paragraph before my eyes darted to the open doorway of my bedroom, expecting to see a tall monster peeking around the corner at me with hungry, expectant eyes. It was never there, but that never stopped me from checking again and again till any hope of finishing a page was dead and buried. Television wasn’t much better, the slightest sound in the background was enough for me to pause and listen, thinking it could the footsteps of an unseen intruder. The same story grew with each passtime I tried. I couldn’t do anything in the house when I knew with my entire mind, body, and soul that there was something standing right behind me, burning daggers into the back of my head. Yet, every time I turned?

Nothing.

Caught myself looking to pick up shifts at the bar. That’s how you know it was bad. Unfortunately for me, it was a slow day and they didn’t need any extra hands. So that left the only thing I could still do:

Sit in the corner and watch the doorway.

I did this for nearly an hour and yet, every second I was sure something was going to appear around the frame and come for me. Every second I was proven wrong. Do you know what that’s like? Imagine you call your partner from the other room, they answer and tell you they’re coming. You hear the footsteps. You feel them getting closer. And yet, they never turn the corner. Each second is agony, waiting for it to happen. But, it never does.

I wish I could say my agony ended after night fell and the locks of my front door rattled to announce my boyfriend’s arrival. However, that didn’t happen. He turned the corner and I expected something to be behind him. He hugged me, and when I returned it I expected something to be clinging to his back. He asked me how my day was and I lied through my teeth. Telling him a story that didn’t involve invisible people watching me.

We went to bed pretty fast and as usual he was asleep first. Normally I followed soon after, but that night proved difficult. In a dark room, it was worse. I could sense 20, maybe 30 people surrounding our bed. Their eyes unblinking and trained directly on me. My eyes met the darkness and began to weep.

I messaged my therapist that night. It had been a while since we talked but I hoped we could see each other again. Whatever this was, it wasn’t leaving.

After my boyfriend left for work, the sun took its time rising and when it did so the first rays pierced the slits of my blinds to reveal the mob of eyeing strangers to be nothing more than the result of my paranoid imagination. However, that knowledge did little to aid the sleepless night they had conjured. It did even little against the fear the intruders were now hiding beneath my bed.

I let out an exhausted whine before pulling the comforter over my head. I felt like a child who was convicted that the monster wouldn’t kill me while the blanket covered my body. However, at least that brought some comfort in my childhood. Now? Now I could only focus on the fact that I was not alone. Not alone in the house. Not alone in this room. Not even alone beneath these blankets.

My therapist had an opening at 12 which was a huge relief even if not all that surprising. I lived in a town far south where the population was low, and the people who did live here worked out their emotions on family members instead of attending therapy. When my text came through, I’m sure her eyes lit up like dollar signs. My distaste for the lady aside, I needed this feeling gone. I bit the bullet and found myself in her office ten minutes early.

She smiled at me with the same practiced, professional grin that drove me away 3 months ago. Yet, here I was now. Sitting in the usual silence that began our sessions. I rolled my eyes, “So we gonna start or…?”

She tilted her head, the perfectly curled blonde ponytail ticked like a metronome behind her head. She seemed so pristine, so put together, not something that helped when you discussed issues with self worth, “You contacted me at midnight seeming very distressed. I’d like to help you but I need you to tell me what’s been bothering you.”

I sighed, took a few seconds to examine the sensation, to ensure it was still there before i committed. The eyes had yet to drift away, so I complied. Told her everything that had happened up until this point. She made notes as I went, each scribble accented by the tick of her ponytail. When I was finished she looked over her notes carefully, clicking her pen against her clipboard, “you can see why I might find this worrying.”

Not a question. I decided I wouldn’t give her the benefit of knowing where this was going, “most people would find this worrying.”

“Especially those with your family history,” she replied instantly.

“I’m not discussing my-“

She nodded, “I remember your hesitance when discussing your mother. However, I do think it’s important to consider if she may have had a similar experience.”

I opened my mouth to argue but it died on my tongue. My eyes drifted to her bookcase where the rows were filled of old stories I was sure she’d never read. My mouth moved almost on its own, “she would often imagine her ex husband stalking her out in public?”

She nodded, “how old were you at that time?”

“This isn’t like that. It’s different.”

“Explain the difference.”

“This is real-“

I caught myself on the words. My therapist’s smile didn’t fade but her eyes drifted down. Her pen still clinking, “you know the hardest part of treating someone’s delusions? Convincing them that they have delusions. Oftentimes these feelings, beliefs, visions can all feel just as real as this conversation between us. That’s why it’s important that we treat this very seriously, before you do something you might regret.”

My thumb dug into the soft flesh of my temple, “Listen, I appreciate the thought, but I am fine. I’m sure this is just stress. If I could get some meds, that’d knock this out.”

“I’ll write you a prescription for an anti-anxiety medication. But please, if you notice these symptoms advancing don’t be afraid to contact me.”

I nodded before snatching the prescription from her hand and checking out the remainder of the session.

After our time was up I practically sped my way across town to the pharmacy, pulling into the drive through and tapping my fingers as I waited like a tweaker eager for her fix. The car in front of me was taking their sweet time, all the while I felt it behind me. My eyes kept drifting to the rear view mirror, each time I expected to see-

My car’s speakers screamed to life, announcing a call from my boyfriend. I had nearly jumped out of my skin at the sudden noise before beginning a barrage of self depreciation in my mind at my cowardice. I pressed answer and gave the best hello I could.

“Hey babe, you okay,” he asked.

“Yeah,” I lied, “why?”

“Nothing I just… I checked your location earlier and saw you were at that office. Was worried you were feeling low again.”

“No! Honey, no. It’s nothing like that. I just… this is going to sound really stupid.”

“Well still tell me,” he pleaded, “I didn’t know anything last time till you were nearly gone. If something is going on I need to know.”

I sighed, “fine… I don’t even know how to describe it. It’s like… I’ve been feeling like I’m being watched. Every hour since yesterday it’s just been this nagging feeling that someone is in the room looking at me.”

He was quiet for a while. Then it went on so long I was beginning to think I lost him, “honey, you there?”

The car finally drove off, I pulled forward and started digging in my bag for the prescription. My boyfriend answered as I moved, “yeah! I’m here, that’s… That’s really weird.”

“See, I told you it was stupid,” I said.

“No! It’s not that,” he said in a tone that eluded to something more.

I felt my heart beginning to beat faster, “What?”

“It’s nothing.”

“No, tell me.”

“I don’t wanna add to it.”

“Tell me. Now.”

He was silent for a moment, but he complied, “when I woke up this morning, I leaned over to kiss you. For a second, I thought I saw a face peering between the bars of the headboard. When I looked though, it was gone… just an odd coincidence.”

I didn’t say anything. I felt something behind me, like the gentle breeze conjured by an eyelid.

“Ma’am, your prescription,” said the man at the window.

“Fuck, I gotta go honey,” I hung up and handed over the prescription.

When the pills came out I popped them right there under an ivy covered wall. I closed my eyes and waited for the relief.

The plastic capsule met my tongue, tasting bitter and alien. I swallowed it down, letting out a small breath as it made its way into my stomach. I kept my eyes closed.

There was a fleshy click directly behind my head. It was soft. If I hadn’t been in a silent car, it would have gone unnoticed. I knew exactly what it was. The sound you hear when you stay up past your bed time. When you’re sick. It’s the sound that accompanies heavy eyelids every time they blink.

My neck snapped to look into the backseat where I could, of course, see nothing. I could hear nothing as well, save my own heavy breaths.

The next three days came with little to no change. My pills didn’t work at their regular dosage, taking double didn’t help, taking triple made me puke. The only saving grace was the pills made it difficult for me to catch my thoughts. The feeling never went away, but my ability to acknowledge it lessened more and more with every pill. Of course, this also impacted my everyday life. Going to work high doesn’t usually go over well with your bosses.

I kept believing I’d get used to it. You can’t be scared of the same movie over and over. Eventually, your body accumulates like it’s cold weather. But those eyes. The damn sensation of them was inhospitable. I couldn’t swallow down my fear. Because of that, my life became a balancing act between sleepwalking through the day and being terrified.

But the next “progression” happened at my job. Service was slow and the other waiters were having a discussion I was only half paying attention to. I was doing what I always did. Watching the clock tick away, hoping I could go home and do the only thing that felt good. Drugging myself and sitting with my back to a corner. But, one of their sentences caught my attention.

“Yeah, I could literally feel his eyes on me.”

I cocked my head.

“Come on,” one of the male severs, “that’s like a myth right.

“Nope,” I immediately said, only half wanting to, “women can definitely feel it.”

“Bullshit,” another guy had chimed in.

“No,” the girl continued, “I read it’s like an evolution thing, when predators would like sneak up behind us.”

“What, like dinosaurs?”

“People weren’t around when dinosaurs were, dipshit!”

The guy threw up his hands, “I ain’t buying it.”

The girl grabbed me by the shoulder and nodded, “okay, we’ll close our eyes, you turn around and we’ll raise our hands when you feel you looking.”

I immediately tried to pull away, “I don’t know.”

“Come on, we don’t have any tables! Trust me, it’ll be fun. Turn around!”

The boys turned around. The girl looked at me. I sighed and hesitantly shut my eyes.

“Okay, ready? One, two, three, go.”

I lifted my hand. I couldn’t see anything but I imagined they were looking in short bursts. Unlike the thing following me. The burning was in full force, drilling hole into the back of my head. Like a brute with a hammer and chisel it bore deep into my head, threatening to pierce my own eyes.

The girl next to me giggled but I could only focus on the burning.

Burning. Burning. I thought on what it could look like. Some gaunt, malnourished creature with proportions inhuman. I imagined it crouched in a fetal position directly behind, the only way it could be eye level.

I heard the soft rustling of clothing from the guys.

The sensations were almost real. My body began a daydream, envisioning slender fingers wrapping around my wrist and guiding it at my side. Then arms draped in loose grey skin would encircle my torso, lifting me into the air which grew hot and wet as it led me to its gaping mouth.

“You can’t just have your hand up the whole time.”

*huff.*

I dropped to the ground and crawled backwards, looking for whatever was behind me. That wasn’t a creeping sensation. A mistaken sound. A daydream. That was real. I had felt a warm, raspy breath on the ridge of my neck. Yet, as I backed away screaming, I could plainly see there was no one there.

My coworker tried to ask me what was wrong. I ran. I didn’t look back.

There was no direction in my mind when I had started. I just wanted to get away. Every step I took was in the vain hope I could escape the inescapable. No matter how fast I ran, or how hard I pleaded, the sensation was omnipresent. As in I had tapped into a divine sense and felt the ever watching presence of God. I was nearly a mile outside of town when the southern heat and exhaustion took me, dragging my body down into a dry ditch to experience the first bit of sleep I’d had in 3 days.

My sleep was not a restful one. At some point in my slumber I realized I was sitting at a computer desk in a dark room. A laptop sat on top of it facing away from me. Someone sat on the other side. I couldn’t see them. Yet, I felt they could see me. They typed a few words. I saw them through the back of the laptop, as if it was made of glass:

“Last week is when I first noticed it.”

I cleared my throat and spoke, “Who are you?”

*I was walking through Target, deciding the nutritional difference between Diet Pepsi and cans of carbonated lemonade when I became aware of the fact I was being watched.*

“Why are you doing this?”

*My immediate reaction was to spin around, see which co-worker or drinking buddy stumbled across me and decided to stare instead of greet me.*

“What do you want from me?”

*I did a full rotation, then another.*

“What do you want?”

*Nobody.*

“WHY WON’T YOU LEAVE ME ALONE?!”

I slammed the laptop shut to reveal a legion of eyes floating in the darkness, all trained past the laptop and on me.

“Honey?”

I snapped awake, my eyes darting left and right to figure out where I was. Glass was against my head. I was moving. A car. My boyfriend was driving. He quickly put a hand on me, “Hey, calm down, hey, I’m here.”

“What happened,” I asked still frantic.

“Your coworkers called me, I was heading to the bar and say you in a ditch. They told me you were screaming. What the fuck happened?”

I shook my head, “where are we going?”

“Where do you think? The hospital.”

“No hospital,” I spat, “take me home.”

He shook his head, “you were in the sun for over an hour. You could be on the verge of heatstroke right now.”

“No! Nononono! TAKE ME HOME!”

“What the fuck!”

I began screaming, banging my hands into the dashboard over and over again. I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t be like her, tied up in a vest scratching at the walls and chasing shadows only she could see. I remember the pity I felt for her. I’d die before anyone felt that for me.

Eventually, my screaming won out and I found myself in the drive way of our home. My boyfriend got out first, came over to my side and helped me out of the car. He was very gentle, aiding me like you’d handle a bird fallen from its nest. Gently, he set me on the bed and walked into the bathroom, starting the water, “if you won’t go to the hospital, at least take a cool bath so I know you’re okay.”

I nodded without saying a word.

After a while, the hum of running water fell silent and my boyfriend was at my side again, helping me to my feet. When we made it into the bathroom, my chapped lips parted, “can you bring me some pajamas? I wanna be comfy when I come out.”

He smiled, happy he could grant me something at least, “sure. I’ll get you your favorite.”

He turned and stepped out of my bathroom. I immediately closed the door and locked it behind him. There were knocks instantly, “honey, what are you doing.”

I opened the medicine cabinet.

“Talk to me.”

Three made me puke. Six. Nine. Twelve. I emptied the contents into my mouth.

He wasn’t speaking anymore, instead just throwing himself against the door. I closed the medicine cabinet and looked at myself in the mirror.

My face was red, contorted and swollen by heat and tears as the realization of what I’d done began to weigh on me. My breath began to break into tiny sobs as the sensation behind me began to vibrate. Like we were finally on the right track. The eyes were gleefully watching me sob into the mirror.

I retrieved my phone, scrolling through the contacts until I found the one I wanted. The phone rang twice before someone picked up, “Mom,” I wept into the receiver.

“This is Dr. Gretchen. What is it, I’m with-“

“Mom,” I broke into full sobbing as the banging grew louder and I felt the eye touching the back of my head, “Mom! Please! Pick me up! I’m scared!”

“I need you to listen to me.”

“Yes, hello, my girlfriend locked herself in the bathroom!

“He w0n’t stop looking at me!”

“D:d you +ake @nything?”

“| +hink 5he\*s trying t0 OD.”

“Plea53 don’t be m@d at me…”

“Where @re y0u righ+ now?”

“Plea$3 hurry, 6lease.”

“He won’t stop staring at me.”

I looked up at the mirror again and saw it. That thing had peeked around my head just for a moment too long and I caught the edge of it before it ducked back behind my head. Its entire body was dark and I couldn’t make out anything other than the single, massive, saucer like eye that was glued to me as I died on the bathroom floor.

“HE’S HERE! HE’S LOOKING AT ME! HE’S LOOKING AT ME! HELP ME! HELP ME! HELP ME!”

\[\[SIGNAL INTERRUPTION\]\]
\[\[RECONNECTING…\]\]

… pierced my eyes as I slowly came to. For the second time that day, my eyes scanned the room, trying to find where exactly I was. The first thing I saw was Dr. Gretchen. The second was the hospital bed I was sleeping in.

She smiled upon seeing I was awake, a genuine smile I thought, “how are you feeling.”

I shook my head, “I can’t believe it.”

“Which part?”

I shrugged, “I don’t know. Any of it. The pills, the thing at work, the… the fact I can still feel it.”

She nodded, her eyes dropping down, “your mother… I understand her condition is often genetic.”

I nodded.

“Have you considered you may be a paranoid schizophrenic?”

Tears dotted the edges of my eyes, I looked away so I didn’t have to face her. God they looked so much alike, “you know I used to stay awake at night, wondering if I’d start hearing them like she did… I was terrified anytime I thought someone had said something, or when my floorboards creaked. I’d say that’s it, I’m losing it… I guess I didn’t know how bad it’d really be.”

Dr. Gretchen cast her eyes towards the wall phone at the end of the room, “there are very good facilities that can help you with this, if you’re willing.”

I finally met her eye and nodded.

She stood and crossed the room, turning her back to me.

The floorboards behind me creaked.

She picked up the phone.

Something was off I…

“I don’t feel it anymore.”

Dr. Gretchen turned to look at me, but the moment she met eyes with me her gaze was stolen. She looked past me, to something tall that must have been behind me. The phone dropped and she gasped before I felt slender fingers encircle my

\[\[SESSION EXPIRED\]\]

WOULD YOU LIKE TO CREATE A NEW CONNECTION?

Last week is when I first noticed it. I was walking through Target, deciding the nutritional difference between Diet Pepsi and cans of carbonated lemonade when I became aware of the fact I was being watched. My immediate reaction was to spin around, see which co-worker or drinking buddy stumbled across me and decided to stare instead of greet me. I did a full rotation, then another. Nobody. The aisle was shared by only myself and an elderly Asian man.

I remember glaring at him for a minute before grabbing my buggy and hurrying off. Pushing my way to the other side of the store, hoping that would get him off my back. After my exodus to the clothing section, I took a breath and thought about what just happened. There was something weird going on. This was far from my first time being ogled. I’d spent most of my adult life catching the quick glances men thought were oh so sneaky. I’d even felt the eyes stuck in the back of my head before. But this? This was the first time that feeling made me so uncomfortable. I was at least glad it was-

The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. I could still feel it. My eyes darted left to right and just before he vanished I caught the Asian man rounding the corner. I remember thinking to myself how much of a pervert he was before abandoning my buggy and storming out of Target. The whole time I could still feel it. Unmistakable knowledge that something was watching me. My pace quickened, hoping I could outrun the old man’s gaze but it persisted. Those unseen eyes stayed glued to me as I got in my car. Started the engine. Opened my GPS.

It was making me paranoid knowing that someone could see me. My eyes kept traveling to the rear view mirror expecting to see the old man already sitting back there. It never happened, but 2 minutes later I saw him slowly shuffling out of the store. I laid on my horn, flipped him the bird, and sped off out of the parking lot. By the time I hit the highway my breath was heavy and I couldn’t feel sweat dotting my pale skin. It’s hard to describe the sensation, you know? It’s not just that someone was watching me, it was that it felt like something was coming. There was an anticipation. Kinda like when you say, “I have a funny picture to show you.” Then you just have to sit there and scroll through your photos while the other person watches you. It felt like that, only there was no release at the end. The pressure was just building and building. Even as I drove I still wasn’t past it. I hoped with a few songs on the radio, I’d be able to push it all from my mind.

By the time I pulled into my garage, I realized the old man had nothing to do with it. I was still being watched.

The rest of that day was wasted. My boyfriend was pulling a double and normally that would provide me the perfect opportunity to read. That sensation made any thought of that impossible. I couldn’t make it through a single paragraph before my eyes darted to the open doorway of my bedroom, expecting to see a tall monster peeking around the corner at me with hungry, expectant eyes. It was never there, but that never stopped me from checking again and again till any hope of finishing a page was dead and buried. Television wasn’t much better, the slightest sound in the background was enough for me to pause and listen, thinking it could the footsteps of an unseen intruder. The same story grew with each passtime I tried. I couldn’t do anything in the house when I knew with my entire mind, body, and soul that there was something standing right behind me, burning daggers into the back of my head. Yet, every time I turned?

Nothing.

Caught myself looking to pick up shifts at the bar. That’s how you know it was bad. Unfortunately for me, it was a slow day and they didn’t need any extra hands. So that left the only thing I could still do:

Sit in the corner and watch the doorway.

I did this for nearly an hour and yet, every second I was sure something was going to appear around the frame and come for me. Every second I was proven wrong. Do you know what that’s like? Imagine you call your partner from the other room, they answer and tell you they’re coming. You hear the footsteps. You feel them getting closer. And yet, they never turn the corner. Each second is agony, waiting for it to happen. But, it never does.

I wish I could say my agony ended after night fell and the locks of my front door rattled to announce my boyfriend’s arrival. However, that didn’t happen. He turned the corner and I expected something to be behind him. He hugged me, and when I returned it I expected something to be clinging to his back. He asked me how my day was and I lied through my teeth. Telling him a story that didn’t involve invisible people watching me.

We went to bed pretty fast and as usual he was asleep first. Normally I followed soon after, but that night proved difficult. In a dark room, it was worse. I could sense 20, maybe 30 people surrounding our bed. Their eyes unblinking and trained directly on me. My eyes met the darkness and began to weep.

I messaged my therapist that night. It had been a while since we talked but I hoped we could see each other again. Whatever this was, it wasn’t leaving.

After my boyfriend left for work, the sun took its time rising and when it did so the first rays pierced the slits of my blinds to reveal the mob of eyeing strangers to be nothing more than the result of my paranoid imagination. However, that knowledge did little to aid the sleepless night they had conjured. It did even little against the fear the intruders were now hiding beneath my bed.

I let out an exhausted whine before pulling the comforter over my head. I felt like a child who was convicted that the monster wouldn’t kill me while the blanket covered my body. However, at least that brought some comfort in my childhood. Now? Now I could only focus on the fact that I was not alone. Not alone in the house. Not alone in this room. Not even alone beneath these blankets.

My therapist had an opening at 12 which was a huge relief even if not all that surprising. I lived in a town far south where the population was low, and the people who did live here worked out their emotions on family members instead of attending therapy. When my text came through, I’m sure her eyes lit up like dollar signs. My distaste for the lady aside, I needed this feeling gone. I bit the bullet and found myself in her office ten minutes early.

She smiled at me with the same practiced, professional grin that drove me away 3 months ago. Yet, here I was now. Sitting in the usual silence that began our sessions. I rolled my eyes, “So we gonna start or…?”

She tilted her head, the perfectly curled blonde ponytail ticked like a metronome behind her head. She seemed so pristine, so put together, not something that helped when you discussed issues with self worth, “You contacted me at midnight seeming very distressed. I’d like to help you but I need you to tell me what’s been bothering you.”

I sighed, took a few seconds to examine the sensation, to ensure it was still there before i committed. The eyes had yet to drift away, so I complied. Told her everything that had happened up until this point. She made notes as I went, each scribble accented by the tick of her ponytail. When I was finished she looked over her notes carefully, clicking her pen against her clipboard, “you can see why I might find this worrying.”

Not a question. I decided I wouldn’t give her the benefit of knowing where this was going, “most people would find this worrying.”

“Especially those with your family history,” she replied instantly.

“I’m not discussing my-“

She nodded, “I remember your hesitance when discussing your mother. However, I do think it’s important to consider if she may have had a similar experience.”

I opened my mouth to argue but it died on my tongue. My eyes drifted to her bookcase where the rows were filled of old stories I was sure she’d never read. My mouth moved almost on its own, “she would often imagine her ex husband stalking her out in public?”

She nodded, “how old were you at that time?”

“This isn’t like that. It’s different.”

“Explain the difference.”

“This is real-“

I caught myself on the words. My therapist’s smile didn’t fade but her eyes drifted down. Her pen still clinking, “you know the hardest part of treating someone’s delusions? Convincing them that they have delusions. Oftentimes these feelings, beliefs, visions can all feel just as real as this conversation between us. That’s why it’s important that we treat this very seriously, before you do something you might regret.”

My thumb dug into the soft flesh of my temple, “Listen, I appreciate the thought, but I am fine. I’m sure this is just stress. If I could get some meds, that’d knock this out.”

“I’ll write you a prescription for an anti-anxiety medication. But please, if you notice these symptoms advancing don’t be afraid to contact me.”

I nodded before snatching the prescription from her hand and checking out the remainder of the session.

After our time was up I practically sped my way across town to the pharmacy, pulling into the drive through and tapping my fingers as I waited like a tweaker eager for her fix. The car in front of me was taking their sweet time, all the while I felt it behind me. My eyes kept drifting to the rear view mirror, each time I expected to see-

My car’s speakers screamed to life, announcing a call from my boyfriend. I had nearly jumped out of my skin at the sudden noise before beginning a barrage of self depreciation in my mind at my cowardice. I pressed answer and gave the best hello I could.

“Hey babe, you okay,” he asked.

“Yeah,” I lied, “why?”

“Nothing I just… I checked your location earlier and saw you were at that office. Was worried you were feeling low again.”

“No! Honey, no. It’s nothing like that. I just… this is going to sound really stupid.”

“Well still tell me,” he pleaded, “I didn’t know anything last time till you were nearly gone. If something is going on I need to know.”

I sighed, “fine… I don’t even know how to describe it. It’s like… I’ve been feeling like I’m being watched. Every hour since yesterday it’s just been this nagging feeling that someone is in the room looking at me.”

He was quiet for a while. Then it went on so long I was beginning to think I lost him, “honey, you there?”

The car finally drove off, I pulled forward and started digging in my bag for the prescription. My boyfriend answered as I moved, “yeah! I’m here, that’s… That’s really weird.”

“See, I told you it was stupid,” I said.

“No! It’s not that,” he said in a tone that eluded to something more.

I felt my heart beginning to beat faster, “What?”

“It’s nothing.”

“No, tell me.”

“I don’t wanna add to it.”

“Tell me. Now.”

He was silent for a moment, but he complied, “when I woke up this morning, I leaned over to kiss you. For a second, I thought I saw a face peering between the bars of the headboard. When I looked though, it was gone… just an odd coincidence.”

I didn’t say anything. I felt something behind me, like the gentle breeze conjured by an eyelid.

“Ma’am, your prescription,” said the man at the window.

“Fuck, I gotta go honey,” I hung up and handed over the prescription.

When the pills came out I popped them right there under an ivy covered wall. I closed my eyes and waited for the relief.

The plastic capsule met my tongue, tasting bitter and alien. I swallowed it down, letting out a small breath as it made its way into my stomach. I kept my eyes closed.

There was a fleshy click directly behind my head. It was soft. If I hadn’t been in a silent car, it would have gone unnoticed. I knew exactly what it was. The sound you hear when you stay up past your bed time. When you’re sick. It’s the sound that accompanies heavy eyelids every time they blink.

My neck snapped to look into the backseat where I could, of course, see nothing. I could hear nothing as well, save my own heavy breaths.

The next three days came with little to no change. My pills didn’t work at their regular dosage, taking double didn’t help, taking triple made me puke. The only saving grace was the pills made it difficult for me to catch my thoughts. The feeling never went away, but my ability to acknowledge it lessened more and more with every pill. Of course, this also impacted my everyday life. Going to work high doesn’t usually go over well with your bosses.

I kept believing I’d get used to it. You can’t be scared of the same movie over and over. Eventually, your body accumulates like it’s cold weather. But those eyes. The damn sensation of them was inhospitable. I couldn’t swallow down my fear. Because of that, my life became a balancing act between sleepwalking through the day and being terrified.

But the next “progression” happened at my job. Service was slow and the other waiters were having a discussion I was only half paying attention to. I was doing what I always did. Watching the clock tick away, hoping I could go home and do the only thing that felt good. Drugging myself and sitting with my back to a corner. But, one of their sentences caught my attention.

“Yeah, I could literally feel his eyes on me.”

I cocked my head.

“Come on,” one of the male severs, “that’s like a myth right.

“Nope,” I immediately said, only half wanting to, “women can definitely feel it.”

“Bullshit,” another guy had chimed in.

“No,” the girl continued, “I read it’s like an evolution thing, when predators would like sneak up behind us.”

“What, like dinosaurs?”

“People weren’t around when dinosaurs were, dipshit!”

The guy threw up his hands, “I ain’t buying it.”

The girl grabbed me by the shoulder and nodded, “okay, we’ll close our eyes, you turn around and we’ll raise our hands when you feel you looking.”

I immediately tried to pull away, “I don’t know.”

“Come on, we don’t have any tables! Trust me, it’ll be fun. Turn around!”

The boys turned around. The girl looked at me. I sighed and hesitantly shut my eyes.

“Okay, ready? One, two, three, go.”

I lifted my hand. I couldn’t see anything but I imagined they were looking in short bursts. Unlike the thing following me. The burning was in full force, drilling hole into the back of my head. Like a brute with a hammer and chisel it bore deep into my head, threatening to pierce my own eyes.

The girl next to me giggled but I could only focus on the burning.

Burning. Burning. I thought on what it could look like. Some gaunt, malnourished creature with proportions inhuman. I imagined it crouched in a fetal position directly behind, the only way it could be eye level.

I heard the soft rustling of clothing from the guys.

The sensations were almost real. My body began a daydream, envisioning slender fingers wrapping around my wrist and guiding it at my side. Then arms draped in loose grey skin would encircle my torso, lifting me into the air which grew hot and wet as it led me to its gaping mouth.

“You can’t just have your hand up the whole time.”

*huff.*

I dropped to the ground and crawled backwards, looking for whatever was behind me. That wasn’t a creeping sensation. A mistaken sound. A daydream. That was real. I had felt a warm, raspy breath on the ridge of my neck. Yet, as I backed away screaming, I could plainly see there was no one there.

My coworker tried to ask me what was wrong. I ran. I didn’t look back.

There was no direction in my mind when I had started. I just wanted to get away. Every step I took was in the vain hope I could escape the inescapable. No matter how fast I ran, or how hard I pleaded, the sensation was omnipresent. As in I had tapped into a divine sense and felt the ever watching presence of God. I was nearly a mile outside of town when the southern heat and exhaustion took me, dragging my body down into a dry ditch to experience the first bit of sleep I’d had in 3 days.

My sleep was not a restful one. At some point in my slumber I realized I was sitting at a computer desk in a dark room. A laptop sat on top of it facing away from me. Someone sat on the other side. I couldn’t see them. Yet, I felt they could see me. They typed a few words. I saw them through the back of the laptop, as if it was made of glass:

“Last week is when I first noticed it.”

I cleared my throat and spoke, “Who are you?”

*I was walking through Target, deciding the nutritional difference between Diet Pepsi and cans of carbonated lemonade when I became aware of the fact I was being watched.*

“Why are you doing this?”

*My immediate reaction was to spin around, see which co-worker or drinking buddy stumbled across me and decided to stare instead of greet me.*

“What do you want from me?”

*I did a full rotation, then another.*

“What do you want?”

*Nobody.*

“WHY WON’T YOU LEAVE ME ALONE?!”

I slammed the laptop shut to reveal a legion of eyes floating in the darkness, all trained past the laptop and on me.

“Honey?”

I snapped awake, my eyes darting left and right to figure out where I was. Glass was against my head. I was moving. A car. My boyfriend was driving. He quickly put a hand on me, “Hey, calm down, hey, I’m here.”

“What happened,” I asked still frantic.

“Your coworkers called me, I was heading to the bar and say you in a ditch. They told me you were screaming. What the fuck happened?”

I shook my head, “where are we going?”

“Where do you think? The hospital.”

“No hospital,” I spat, “take me home.”

He shook his head, “you were in the sun for over an hour. You could be on the verge of heatstroke right now.”

“No! Nononono! TAKE ME HOME!”

“What the fuck!”

I began screaming, banging my hands into the dashboard over and over again. I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t be like her, tied up in a vest scratching at the walls and chasing shadows only she could see. I remember the pity I felt for her. I’d die before anyone felt that for me.

Eventually, my screaming won out and I found myself in the drive way of our home. My boyfriend got out first, came over to my side and helped me out of the car. He was very gentle, aiding me like you’d handle a bird fallen from its nest. Gently, he set me on the bed and walked into the bathroom, starting the water, “if you won’t go to the hospital, at least take a cool bath so I know you’re okay.”

I nodded without saying a word.

After a while, the hum of running water fell silent and my boyfriend was at my side again, helping me to my feet. When we made it into the bathroom, my chapped lips parted, “can you bring me some pajamas? I wanna be comfy when I come out.”

He smiled, happy he could grant me something at least, “sure. I’ll get you your favorite.”

He turned and stepped out of my bathroom. I immediately closed the door and locked it behind him. There were knocks instantly, “honey, what are you doing.”

I opened the medicine cabinet.

“Talk to me.”

Three made me puke. Six. Nine. Twelve. I emptied the contents into my mouth.

He wasn’t speaking anymore, instead just throwing himself against the door. I closed the medicine cabinet and looked at myself in the mirror.

My face was red, contorted and swollen by heat and tears as the realization of what I’d done began to weigh on me. My breath began to break into tiny sobs as the sensation behind me began to vibrate. Like we were finally on the right track. The eyes were gleefully watching me sob into the mirror.

I retrieved my phone, scrolling through the contacts until I found the one I wanted. The phone rang twice before someone picked up, “Mom,” I wept into the receiver.

“This is Dr. Gretchen. What is it, I’m with-“

“Mom,” I broke into full sobbing as the banging grew louder and I felt the eye touching the back of my head, “Mom! Please! Pick me up! I’m scared!”

“I need you to listen to me.”

“Yes, hello, my girlfriend locked herself in the bathroom!

“He w0n’t stop looking at me!”

“D:d you +ake @nything?”

“| +hink 5he\*s trying t0 OD.”

“Plea53 don’t be m@d at me…”

“Where @re y0u righ+ now?”

“Plea$3 hurry, 6lease.”

“He won’t stop staring at me.”

I looked up at the mirror again and saw it. That thing had peeked around my head just for a moment too long and I caught the edge of it before it ducked back behind my head. Its entire body was dark and I couldn’t make out anything other than the single, massive, saucer like eye that was glued to me as I died on the bathroom floor.

“HE’S HERE! HE’S LOOKING AT ME! HE’S LOOKING AT ME! HELP ME! HELP ME! HELP ME!”

\[\[SIGNAL INTERRUPTION\]\]
\[\[RECONNECTING…\]\]

… pierced my eyes as I slowly came to. For the second time that day, my eyes scanned the room, trying to find where exactly I was. The first thing I saw was Dr. Gretchen. The second was the hospital bed I was sleeping in.

She smiled upon seeing I was awake, a genuine smile I thought, “how are you feeling.”

I shook my head, “I can’t believe it.”

“Which part?”

I shrugged, “I don’t know. Any of it. The pills, the thing at work, the… the fact I can still feel it.”

She nodded, her eyes dropping down, “your mother… I understand her condition is often genetic.”

I nodded.

“Have you considered you may be a paranoid schizophrenic?”

Tears dotted the edges of my eyes, I looked away so I didn’t have to face her. God they looked so much alike, “you know I used to stay awake at night, wondering if I’d start hearing them like she did… I was terrified anytime I thought someone had said something, or when my floorboards creaked. I’d say that’s it, I’m losing it… I guess I didn’t know how bad it’d really be.”

Dr. Gretchen cast her eyes towards the wall phone at the end of the room, “there are very good facilities that can help you with this, if you’re willing.”

I finally met her eye and nodded.

She stood and crossed the room, turning her back to me.

The floorboards behind me creaked.

She picked up the phone.

Something was off I…

“I don’t feel it anymore.”

Dr. Gretchen turned to look at me, but the moment she met eyes with me her gaze was stolen. She looked past me, to something tall that must have been behind me. The phone dropped and she gasped before I felt slender fingers encircle my

[[SESSION EXPIRED]]

WOULD YOU LIKE TO CREATE A NEW CONNECTION?

I want to start this off by saying I’m a straight up, bonafide loser. I’m 37 years old and have managed nothing since barely graduating high school and the only reason I’m not a college dropout is because I didn’t bother to waste my or the professor’s time. I figured what’s the point in stressing over assignments when I can skip right to my college experience’s end result with a bit of hard earned gambling debt.

My point is, I’m in serious debt and have to make money fast.

With no degree and limited ambition to do anything that requires real labor, I’ve made quite the bed to lie in. If the money I needed was to be made sans-broken-knee-caps I was going to have to get creative. And get creative I did. A conquest across Indeed was deployed, extending nearly 50 embarrassing résumés to 50 different employers. 20 of those responded, only 4 of which said yes leaving me to pick the 3 that required the least work. This left my summer chock full of fun activities like work for 18 hours before going to my car and sleeping for the remaining 6 before starting the whole cycle over.

As you can imagine, I’ve been basically sleepwalking through life these past few months. That’s what I want to express to you the most in this intro to explain how weird it is that I even noticed this. The weird stuff is happening at my afternoon shift at a grocery store. I man a self-checkout at some local grocery chain. Something between a Kroger and a farmer’s market. Half of my job is showing elderly people how to function a touchscreen and the other half is keeping my eyes open till I can pass out for my 15. Basically, it’s not a job that requires a ton of brain power and I spend most of it with my mind on a planet miles away.

Until recently…

The shift is a 4pm-12am, the beginning kinda pops off but later into the dark hours of the night this grocery store turns into a ghost town. Only populated by myself and whichever stocker managed to make the shift leads shit list when schedules were being cooked up. Most of my time is spent pacing up and down the length of self checkout which opens to the source of the weirdness. Aisle 7. It’s a refrigerated aisle containing frozen pizzas, meal kits single dads get before looking over divorce papers, and maybe ghosts.

The first encounter happened around 10:30pm when I was in the middle of a very engaging pace session. The way the store works is similar to a warehouse. When no one is around the lights shut down, only coming back on when they detect motion. My pacing is as much to kill time as it is to provide myself an island of light in the sea of dead fluorescence. I’d march down the middle of self-checkout, my heel melting to toe into the tile floor till it reached the edge of my island of light, just below the hanging half hidden in stale blackness. The reflective 7 was the only part easily visible. I planted my toe and about-faced to March back towards the empty customer service desk. Once again one foot in front of the other. Slowly and deliberately moving until nearly crashing into the wall. My toe planted onto tile, my body spun to face…

I’d done this song and dance a hundred times and that many marches is enough to give your mind a passive expectation of what will be facing you when you turn around. When you see empty blackness a hundred times, shining blue feels like a punch in the face that’s hard enough to make you stumble. Luckily, I caught myself allowing me to get a good long look at aisle 7 lit up like a Christmas Tree, not a soul visible to have lit it up.

I looked at the front door to see if the path leading to it was alight as well. Nothing but inky blackness occasionally interrupted by the slices of passing headlights. Weird.

This wasn’t too interesting, to be fair. It’s not crazy that a place like this would have a faulty sensor that got tripped on occasion. Yet…

People use the term “piqued my interest” a lot but no one I talk to ever really know’s what that means. It’s something from France that equates to pricked, like a thorn. It was kinda like that. Or like my brain had a hair splinter on its foot and every second I didn’t investigate forced the needle deeper into my cerebrum. So, I walked forward to yank it free.

My body, covered in the stale sweat and grime of a hard day’s work left the white light of self-checkout to bathe within the sharp blue of the refrigerated aisle. The air was crisp and dragged cold, teasing fingers down my throat like a playful lover, tracing lines lower to my lungs. As I continued forward, however, the sensation felt differently. More alive and hostile. My skin rose in goosebumps, the air of the aisle slithered around me like the breath of a great esophagus. My own breathing matched it.

Something was off. Without realizing it, I had stopped in the center of the aisle for… minutes? Hours? Something there was, and it’s fucking crazy to say this, something within that aisle was exalted. Only there was there. Nothing but the breath of the aisle and myself.

The lights died.

Something was off. When the lights were on I could plainly see there was nothing there. But now, in the inky black, it was so clear. I was sharing the aisle with something. I could sense it as easily as I could sense the cool trails of sweat that ran down my spine. And I could feel its hostile intentions as easily as I could feel my own fear.

I began waving my arms wildly, my limbs popped and ached at the sudden exertion after hours of rest. Yet, no matter how hard swung, and jumped, and prayed. The lights stayed as they were. I snapped my head back around to the island of white light at the end of the aisle. It was right there, but somehow felt like it was miles away. Then, with a soft click, it too was gone.

I stood in an utter void. Not even the hum of the fridges surrounded me anymore. If not for the ground beneath my feet, I might have thought the nothing had swallowed me whole. And if not for that same ground, I would have never heard the unmistakable sound of hooves beating against the ground, closing the distance to me.

I ran. I didn’t know where. If I was even facing self-checkout anymore. I just knew it was away. Away from that noise. The distinct click of hooves coming in a rhythm that was distinctly not a horse. It galloped off rhythm. Two quick clicks followed by a scrape like metal against glass. Whatever it was didn’t gallop on four legs, but it was gaining all the same. My shoulder collided with the handle of a glass store making me stumble but instinct kept me moving forward off balance. Behind me, I heard that thing’s form crash against the same door, giving evidence of just how great this thing behind me was as the entire aisle rocked against its mass. I kept running. My lungs greedily snatched cold air from the void as I stumbled forward. Behind me I could see a glow. The dim, icy blue light illuminated the edges of my peripheral as the creature scuttled closer and closer. My forward movement was too fast for my legs to keep up. I was losing balance. The ground was rising to meet my face. I felt something sharp brush against my back.

My face collided with the white tile just as I was gilded in the buzzing white glow of the self-checkout as it snapped back to life. I slid several feet, a streak of bubbling blood leaking from my nose and mouth and leaving a streak across the tile leading into aisle seven. The hoofbeats were gone. The only sound was my rapid, desperate breath. With a mechanical click aisle 7 was alight with blue hues once more revealing something interesting halfway down the row.

One single glass door stood ajar by about half a foot, the interior bleeding fog across the reflective tile. I watched as slowly, a grey hand reach from inside the cooler, gripped the door and pulled it shut. My body remained motionless on the tile, eyes watching that door till finally the blue hue died and I was alone.

Since then, it visits me every night like clockwork. 10:30 rolls around, the lights come up, the aisle goes dark and I hear the hoofbeats pace the edge of 7’s darkness, just at the edge of what I can see.

Obviously, this terrifies me, but I can’t help but admit that often times I find myself wondering what’s on the other side of aisle 7’s cooler. If whatever that is can visit me, maybe I can visit it.

First Post here: https://www.reddit.com/r/dndhorrorstories/s/6Rs4X5BdFR

Well, I got some answers.

I want to preface this by saying this is going to sound insane and idk if anyone is going to believe this. Some of y’all pointed out in my last post that I frequent sites like nosleep, which is true. I do have a knack for spooky stories but I like to keep them on sites where they’d be seen as obvious fiction. I’m a writer and want feedback which I wouldn’t get passing off my spooky stories as real life.

I only bring this up because this feels like a nosleep story and it took a lot of deliberation on if I should even post this. But, I decided I’d throw it out there.

The morning after I made my post, I asked my friend if he had told Creep about any of my childhood. He didn’t answer (in was like 4am) and I was gonna let it wait till morning. That was, until I saw him posting on his story getting black out drunk at some party. At this point, I was pissed. I swiped up and asked if he often made a habit of airing out my business. He called immediately and we started talking.

Turns out, he did tell Creep about my childhood. Only not in the way you’d think. Creep had asked my friend if there were any topics he should steer away from and my friend gave him a brief overview of what I went through. The only thing he ever told him without prompting was my dream which he just found interesting.

When I showed my friend the document the Creep sent me, he like actually couldn’t believe it. He thought I was fucking with him. When I finally convinced him, he just went silent for a while. I had to prompt him to talk by asking why he’d do this. My friend said the only thing he could think was Creep came from a conservative background and knew I was NB.

Friend wanted to talk to Creep, I said he should just block him and move on. However, friend insisted he needed to know what was going on in his head. He texted Creep who responded immediately as the early hours of nearly 5 am.

Creep seemed apologetic. He said he never intended to come off as creepy or hostile and just wanted to connect with me. He apologized and asked if me and my friend could both come over to his place so he could explain in person and make dinner. I immediately had alarm bells and told him to say fuck no. However, my friend wanted to humor him.

We both decided to sleep on it since we were exhausted and I will admit, I slept through my alarm. I woke up at nearly 1pm and by the time I was dressed and ready to start the day, friend said he was already heading over to Creep’s

Twenty minutes later friend called me out of breath and absolutely pissed. According to my friend’s descriptions of Creep before, he dressed like an average country boy and had a buzzed blonde haircut. When my friend walked in, he was wearing a brown wig that went past his shoulders and “grungy clothes”.

He was dressed like me.

Creep apparently just started laughing and asking where I was. He just kept saying it was going to be so funny. My friend said he didn’t want to entertain him anymore and just left. We both blocked him on everything and so far that’s been the end of it.

This just doesn’t fucking feel real. Keep in mind, I’ve never seen this fucking guy. And there’s supposedly some guy walking around dressed as me? How did he even know what I dressed like.

But something I’ve been thinking is that I’ve NEVER seen this guy before. Neither have any of my other friends. My friend said he met Creep at another dnd game but I’ve played with this guy, he isn’t what I’d call seasoned. I don’t want to think this but my friend making all this up makes more sense than some fucking random person doing this.

I told my party I was going to take a break from the game for a while. I honestly don’t know what to think.

So I run a D&D Homebrew campaign for a few of my work buddies. None of us take it too seriously, we just get around every week and goof off. We recently lost a player to the dreaded killer of games (real life) when he decides to move to Dallas for a job opportunity. This left a hole and one of my coworkers suggested we add a friend of a friend to join since he apparently played with him before.

I had never met this guy, never said a word to him. I’ve never even seen his face. But, I decided why not? What is the worst that could happen. I texted him a bit before and if I had to describe him, I’d say he was kind but soft spoken. It’s weird to say that over text but it’s true. Most of my questions or messages were answered with direct and respectful answers. He told me he wanted to make a Warlock who had a pact with a dark god. Fine by me. Go crazy.

Then I got the backstory.

I learned this character was 5 foot flat with shoulder length brown hair. What a coincidence. So am I. I learned this character was born into a strict household who taught a religion through physical abuse. What a coincidence. I learned the mother was the more religious while the father was a drunk enabler… okay… The character had a brother with blonde hair who stayed in the family while they pulled away… that seemed specific…

Now all of this could have been a coincidence. I can accept that. However, the guy described how he met the dark god and it is a word for word retelling of a reoccurring nightmare I’ve been experiencing for the past year.

My dream is about being in a church but I’m the size of a mouse and the only light is coming through the stained glass windows from outside. As I walk, there’s a black dot that starts appearing in the center of the windows and the further I walk, the bigger that black dot is and the darker the church becomes until I am in complete darkness.

The player sent me a google doc where they describe meeting a god in a dream and they describe the exact same thing, just adding that in the darkness a god spoke to them.

I honestly don’t know what to do. Like this stuff isn’t private information. I’ve told it to my friends but why would they tell this stranger and why would this stranger make this background a parody of my life? Am I overreacting?