r/TheMidnightArchives

What was solid anymore? It wasn't her relationship with her boyfriend who had busted a big load of infedity right in her face and just said sorry about it. The ground she walked on at work wasn’t solid enough to withstand the industry's stress, and not missing too many days of work was a burden her boss felt more than she did. Her weed was pretty solid. The only solid thing in her life felt like. Even her parents' attention was not constant, for they were off living the time of their lives, while she was left to endure a miserable twenties. 

She didn't go to school; she worked two jobs, where one took priority over the other, and the other one felt it dearly, for she was teetering on the edge of employment. She needed both jobs to pay her rent for an overused, scabbed-up apartment she had been living in for a whole six months so far. So far, starting out as a young adult in the modern world has been hard ground to keep stable, and she was doing her best, swinging it on her own and trying to get through it without mommy and daddy helping her along the way. 

She didn't need a nice place to live anyway; she was barely at her apartment, where she only slept for a few hours in her bedroom and used the kitchen periodically. It was a place that suited her needs, and that is all she required right now. Just a little stability and a little comfort. In the middle of a shift change for work, she saw him playing in the hallway by himself, a boy of maybe nine years old. She tried to ignore him before he just came up and introduced himself to her. 

“Hi, im josh. I live next door to you.” He extended his arm, and she shook his hand really formally before giving him a crooked smile.  

“I'm Anne.” She let go of the little boy and wiped her hand down on her jeans, for Josh’s hand was overly sweaty with something sticky stuck to his palm. 

She squeezed into her apartment without having any more words said to the boy outside, and she locked her door, feeling an unease about his presence. Every night shift she worked, she came out to find sleep, but first found Josh playing in the hallway at like two in the morning. 

“Where are your parents?” I was at my door, looking around to see if this kid had any kind of supervision. 

“Inside.” Josh got off the floor where his toy soldiers were and walked up to Anne, smiling really big at her. “It’s nice to see you.” He was too creepy for her to want to stay outside her apartment and talk more, and as helpfully as she could, she unlocked the door and left the boy in mid-sentence. 

She got a few hours of sleep before waking up for job number two, which she was already late for. As she flew through her door to get outside, she nearly trampled Josh, who was waiting outside Anne’s door. 

“Good morning.” Josh smiled in an unsettling way, and untold contempt was in his eyes when he looked directly at her. 

Anne shivered and locked her door before fleeing down the stairs, not caring to wait for the elevator, with Josh at her side, who made her feel oddly uneasy and curiously aware of his consistency. She realized he was showing up more and more whenever she left her apartment, and whenever they encountered each other, it was at odd hours, always an uncomfortable situation. 

One day, she came home for a shift change to find Josh in her house. Anne flipped out and asked Josh how he got in past the lock. 

“Got it with a little jimmy, you wanna watch some TV together?” He was already on her coach with the TV rolling some gruesome movie that just had gore porn and no plot in it at all. 

“You need to get out of my house right now.” Anne was stern and furious that this little boy had the audacity to break into her apartment. 

She pointed at the door as the boy pouted, but left her apartment as she was locking both of her locks just in case it happened again. She hoped the chain would be enough to keep the little creep out, but she was wrong: the next morning, he was at her kitchen table, eating her Cheerios and using her sugar and honey. Anne cursed out loud, baffled at this kid, and put her hands on her hips. 

“Take me to your parents.” Josh looked at Anne in a way that made her cower back a little, for it reminded her of that Malachi character in Children of the Corn. 

Josh got up with a stomp to his foot and took Anne next door, where Josh slipped through a crack and disappeared into his own apartment. Anne stood out there for about thirty minutes before she began knocking on the door, only to receive no answer. She was furious, but she wasn't going to make a scene in the hallway and make a fool of herself by breaking down the door. Anne just went home and double-locked her doors, thinking about adding more locks to the wooden frame. When Anne came out of her apartment next, there was no Josh playing in the hallway, only the stillness of an empty space that stretched down the walkway. She left for work and felt a little bit of ease thinking that the boy had finally found some sense and was going to leave the people around him alone. 

“What the fuck,” It was two in the morning, and Josh was watching TV again on her couch. 

“Hey, what’s up?” Josh turned around and looked at Anne, smiling as some popcorn spilled onto his lap. 

“Seriously, where are your parents?” Anne walked up to Josh and grabbed his arm before escorting him to the next apartment beside her, and she started banging on his door to get some kind of adult’s attention. 

She waited so long that she just let Josh go, and he ran down the hallway to the elevator and disappeared to a different floor. Anne was frustrated now and made her way to the hardware store, where she bought three new locks for her apartment door. She installed them immediately and felt a good relief as she thought there was no way Josh was getting past this security system. 

At first, once she got home and locked the door, there was nothing but knocking, and it didn't matter how many times she told Josh to go away or how many times she tried to find a parent; the knocking was him wanting inside the apartment. After a long day of work and a desperate need for a bath and a glass of Chardonnay with a side of Klonopin she got inside the apartment and Josh was in Anne’s kitchen heating up food in the microwave. 

“Kid, get the fuck out. What the hell are you doing?” She was flabbergasted that her security system had somehow failed, and Josh got back into her apartment and acted as if he lived there. 

Anne wondered how long Josh had been in her apartment before she got home, and she decided to put up video cameras to have as evidence the next time Josh thought it was okay to break and enter someone else's house. The video footage was a live feed, with Anne checking her phone every few minutes while serving customers at the bar. Then, at the right time, she saw her video footage freeze, and she witnessed Josh inside her apartment. As soon as she saw him, Anne called the cops and reported that someone was in her apartment without permission. 

She watched as the police thoroughly searched the apartment, found no trace of Josh, and had no footage of him leaving. The police called her back and told Anne that everything was secure before the complex's owner had the apartment relocked. Anne went home expecting to see Josh, but he wasn't there, and she thought maybe the cops had scared him away. 

That wasn't the case as Anne woke up to noise in her living room. The TV was on, and Josh was sitting on the couch in his pajamas, watching TV and eating a bowl of cereal. 

“You cannot do this.” She grabbed the bowl out of his lap, lifted him off my coach, and escorted him to the door. “Stay out of my apartment.” Anne thought she was firm, but what he said back chilled her to the bone. 

“Wuchu gonna do about it if I don't?” He had a sinister look in his eyes, and his face was grave, then a moment of a cheerful smile, and an escape to the apartment next to hers. 

Anne really thought she had had about enough of this breaking and entering until she felt Josh climbing under her blankets and lying down next to her back. She jumped out of bed and this time stormed over to the apartment next door and pounded on the door until her arm hurt. 

“Unlock the door. Are you living alone in there? Is that why no one is answering the door?” She was so angry she could chew through concrete at this point, and she was desperate for some kind of solution to her Josh problem. 

He refused Anne and got out of her grip before running up the flight of stairs and disappearing to the floors above. Anne wasn't going to chase after him; she was going to go back inside to get ready for work, which she was already running late for. Anne now has Josh’s breaking and entering on record, and this time she decided to go to the building manager to complain about this kid. 

She laid out complaints until the manager told Anne that there was no one living next to her at that time on either side of her door. Anne pulled up the footage and showed it to the manager, who stared blankly. Anne looked at her phone and pointed out the little boy. 

“You don't see that little kid on my coach?” Anne was daring this guy to call her crazy, and he asked her if she was okay before she burst out. She needed proof there were no tenants in the apartments next to her. 

The manager obliged her and took her to both apartments, which were very much empty, and yet the manager still saw no boy on her screen. Anne was bewildered as her brain told her tricks and whispered lies to her sight. Was she really going mad? She laughed it off until Josh tried sleeping with her and a teddy bear every night, and she woke up to Josh in Jammies watching cartoons every morning. Anne finally moved out of the apartment and told her parents she really needed some time to find a new place to live, and that they would harbor her until she got back on her feet. 

Josh was there for Anne’s final departure, and he wrapped his arms around her legs and wept as he was losing his best friend. Horrified by this action, she carefully pried the boy off of her and, walking backward to make sure he didn't follow, she made her way down the stairs with her last box and left this time for good. She turned her keys in at the front desk and didn't say anything more. She didn't know if it was the apartment complex or her mind, but Josh was around, and he was very solid to her. 

I needed another cigarette after a day like today. Sheesh, I was about done workin’ myself to the bone, and every night was a ritual for me. I stopped at the same gas station every single night for a quick pump before making it home, and bizarre things always happened inside that building. This is the last gas station I pass on my way from my construction site to my neighborhood, and I needed at least half a tank of gas to get to my destination. So the gas station became like a second home where Charlie the cashier and I got to know one another, and he too noticed the strange happenings around the gas station as well, but he's so used to it now that it just rolls off his shoulder as if it were just another day at the station. I was terrified the first time I went to use the men’s restroom cause the only stall was filled with burpin’ bull frogs. I would have used the ladies' room, but it was infested with squirrels. 

Now Charlie will just pee around them, but I can't look a bull frog or a squirrel for that matter, in the eye while I'm tryin’ to conduct business, so I always end up pissin’ on the side of the building. They should just put a urinal out here for me, but I know that if it did, something would come and fester itself in the urinal's physicality. You couldn't catch a break at this place. Every time there was something going on, when I stopped here every single day, I just felt like it could never be normal. I tried to bypass the place without getting gas one day and ended up miles from home, so I trudged back to the station and got some gas in my bucket to take back to my car, which was dead on the side of the highway. I began to think it was just when I came around, but Charlie has shown me some footage of weird shit happening all day. 

The first time I met Todd, I just about jumped out of my skin, for I was used to hearing those bull frogs so damn much that when Todd snuck up behind me while I was doin’ business, I didn't notice until his voice broke through the croaks. 

“They like the urine. That's why I bring em’ here.” Todd looked like a frazzled homeless man with one missing front tooth and a lazy eye. 

Todd was also covered in bullfrogs, from head to toe all piled on top of each other, they found somewhere to perch on Todd’s body. Before I could ask him what the hell he meant, he disappeared into the store. I followed him in zippin’ myself up and asked Charlie about him. Now, Todd was kicked out of this place multiple times for bringing those damn frogs into the toilet room. Police have been called, reports have been made, but this guy just doesn't take a hint, and he still comes every now and then with a fresh batch of bullfrogs, and he sets them all free in the men’s stall. Now that explained the frogs to me, but I did not meet Miss. Linda, until later, for she came less frequently than Todd with a refreshed stock of animals. 

Now Miss. Linda is the character to meet, that is for sure. She is the squirrel lady to everyone else, but we knew he better than that, and we always used her name. Miss. Linda is a middle-aged soccer mom who collects squirrels as pets. She trains them to stay close to her even when they are outside, and when she feels like it is too much, she brings them to the ladies' room to be stowed so she can come visit. 

I think Todd and Miss. Linda would really get along, but unfortunately, they always come at different times and never bump into each other so that they do meet. Charlie and I have been through three burglaries in the last month alone, where the intruders would get away with singles and cigarettes, and sometimes they would clean out the beer in the refrigerators. Honest to God’s truth, if someone were just to come in and tell Charlie what they were doin’, Charlie ain’t gonna stop ya. He is gonna sit behind the counter and wait for the local sheriff to come up to take care of the situation for him. But it takes half a tank of gas to drive in any direction from the gas station, so it always took the sheriff some time to make it out to the station to file a report. 

Hell, by now, Charlie doesn’t even flinch at a gun. He is so used to having a gun flung in his face, he just keeps on readin’ his magazine and shoos the burglars off. Now Charlie is not ashamed to be seen readin’ a Playboy at 2 in the morning. So his magazine really outtrumps anythin’ other than a payin’ customer. 

“Gone on. Do whatcha gotta do. Im callin’n the sheriff.” 

It was always Charlie’s line to whoever came in to steal his stuff. He took his time doin’ by now, and he just could not call the police, for he needed a report to send to the owner so that the store could get restocked. I didn't know how this place kept on runnin’, but it was alive, and it was well. Now Miss. Tiffany is a whole other ballgame when it came to meetin’ her. She was very special to say the least about it to Charlie, and Charlie always had me watch the register while he and Saggy ass Miss. Tiffinay made it to the room behind the refrigerators. I couldn't count how many wrinkles she had bringin’ her face down, but it was enough to make it droop, that's for sure. Miss. Tiffany always comes in with some kinda nighty on, smooching her crinkled lips at Charlie and blowin’ him a kiss. Now Miss. Tiffany's boobs hung about just as low as her ass did. 

Charlie and I would be kickin’ shit when a random would come in to buy somethin’ or try to use the restroom, which some ended up doin’ even around the amphibian and rodent infestations. It was always fun for a random to meet one of the regulars, and it definitely made an impression some of the time. State troopers have been called in to handle some matters for Charlie. Like Mr. Shawn, don't come around no more, for he yelled too loudly at the wrong customer, and the customer got into a violent interaction, which is why Charlie had to have a higher level of authority to handle misfits like these. Mr. Shawn yelled at everyone and anyone who came into the gas station, including me, the first few times I came there. 

I’ve dealt with the Monroe twins about just as much as Charlie has, and the Monroe kids are some twins that come into the gas station once a week, holdin’ hands, and for the first five minutes of being inside, they step far enough away from the counter to not communicate, but to clearly see they were starin’ right at Charlie. Just standin’ there not movin’ an inch, and then they would purchase what they needed and come back to Charlie, where they would both smile at the same time and just look him dead in the eye as he gave them their change. They didn't stop there, for they stayed at the counter just as long as they stayed at that door when they came through the front doors. 

I brought co-workers into the gas station, and the three of us, Charlie included, would sit behind the counter, eating popcorn, watching all the strange happenings around the gas station. Some nights, we caught Mr. Jones and his parrot. That damn thing doesn't have anything good to say to anyone. 

“Hey, fatass, how's business?” The parrot squawked when Mr. Jones and his terrorist made it to the counter. 

“Mr. Jones, are you having a good night?” Charlie took the money out of the old man’s wrinkled hand and smiled kindly at Mr. Jones ’ crinkled face. 

“Always a good night to be alive.” Mr. Jones had the same reply every time he came in to Charlie’s greetings. 

“See ya bitches.” The parrot called out, looking back over Mr. Jone’s shoulder, still staring us in the eye. 

I hated that stupid bird, and it only got worse if Mr. Jones came in with conversations. So, as you spoke to the kind old man, his parrot would curse at you and call you names throughout the interaction, and Mr. Jones was so good at just ignoring his bird, cause he never said a word to that parrot for being disrespectful. It couldn't help me but wonder what kind of man he was before he became a widow. There were some nights I would just stay and sleep at the gas station instead of drivin’ all the way home. This gas station had a single-stall shower between the two infested bathrooms, and its only flaw was that it dispensed only ice-cold water, which I didn't mind much. 

I was drivin’ at three in the mornin’ tryin’ to get to work when I got stuck at the gas station upon arriving durin’ a robbery. All I could do was huff and make my way behind the counter to grab a pack of cigarettes and light one up, taking a seat next to Charlie, who was on the phone with the sheriff. My boss was heated by the time I showed up three hours late, and he, that son of a bitch kept me at work until midnight, and I had no choice but to stay at the station, for I had to be at work at four thirty. 

I remember at one of my slumber parties with Charlie that I met this man and his girlfriend, who were past lost and out of their mind. You could tell they were from upstate with their fancy, brand-new sports car and Louis Vuitton-branded shoes that matched the branded clothes they wore. I had never heard a true scream from a woman before until that fancy lady went to the restroom and encountered the squirrels, which were feeling feisty, and attacked the woman all at once. It was a show to watch as the boyfriend fought those critters that clung to that woman for dear life. We lost customers that day, and they didn't get the right directions. 

You know, thinkin’ about it, I remember meetin’ Mr. Hali, a man with a banjo and a song for a couple tanks of gas. He was not from around here, and he was broke workin’ a job for pennies on the hour, and we felt bad for the man, so Charlie always took the song for payment. 

“Gentilhomme.” Mr. Hali would shout as he came into the station, leaving his piece-of-junk Honda outside, which most of the time, Charlie had to work on because it would break down at the station. 

Charlie was a mechanic before he was a gas station clerk, and so working on Mr. Hali’s junkyard automobile was nothing but swift movements on Charlie’s part. Chalie always got Mr. Hali out of here within thirty minutes if it wasn't a long song in trade for more gas. 

“Merci,” Mr. Hali would say all the way out the door a million times after he was not bound to the gas station any longer and could leave with his black smokin’ clanker. 

You know, besides the non-habitable restrooms, this gas station was up to code and very nice inside. I would say it was kinda chilly with the blasted air always goin’ no matter the temperature outside. Those high-reflecting fluorescent lights were a burden as well cause they were just so hard on your eyes. I don't know how Charlie works that station in that lightin’ every single day and night. All that is enough to truly turn a man crazy, but not Charlie. Charlie is way too reserved, no matter the situation happening in front of him. 

Charlie had his trailer parked out behind the gas station where he lived, and when he was sleeping, someone had to watch the store. That's when Paul came in, and boy, is Paul a pussy. I remember goin’ through his first robbery as I sat behind the counter suckin’ on a cigarette, waitin’ for the whole thing to be over with so I could just leave, and Paul not only pissed himself but he curled up into a ball under the counter and bawled uncontrably with discomposure. I had to deal with those stupid teenagers with the flying around gun that night, which was easy in the long run, as they got away with a bunch of beer, a few twenties, and a few cartons of cigarettes, matching the amount of snacks they took with them as well. By the time it was all over, I had to take Paul over to Charlie, and Charlie had to get back to work with only two hours of sleep that night. 

There was a robbery that got really serious once, as the man who came barging in and barricaded the place up was not afraid to shoot his gun. One shot missed Chalire’s head by inches as he just about pissed his pants as Paul had. Turned out this guy was a murderer, and he was findin’ a low-key place to hang out as he locked all the doors and flipped off the lights. Charlie and I hid under the counter and smoked what we thought would be our last cigarettes as the man waited in the station for hours with us locked inside until he relinquished himself and finally left after returning to his stolen vehicle, which he had parked out by Charlie’s trailer. 

Just thinkin’ about it, I wouldn't have to be so early to work if I wasn't the damn foreman, but boy did I appreciate that pay every couple of weeks. My boss would be willing to give my job to anyone else, but no one can meet my standards or my workload as I can, and I was a valuable asset to the company. So sometimes when I showed up a little late, I always got punished, but no way were they gonna fire me. I remember one night we caught some teenager smokin’ a joint behind the station. We brought him inside before feedin’ him and askin’ his name, and he was just a runaway. We let him stay as long as he wanted until he decided to go home, and we called his parents. 

Ya know, I remember the wrath my mother rained down on me, but the fury of this mother that came in for that boy was so hot it made the treprestue bake the entire building. She did not mind berating her son in front of Charlie and me, and when all was said and done, she stalked back to her car, and the boy waved goodbye from the passenger side window, and I feel he was about to go and experience what hell was like. It made me feel happy to be a grown man and have the ability to counter the abuse that my mom was about to inflict on her runaway son. 

“Well, Charlie, I gotta be goin’,” I would always grab my smokes and my gas if nothin’ at the moment was causin’ chaos around us, and I wanted to get the hell out before that tranquility was busted by madness. 

“Be safe out there.” Charlie would always ring back to me as he waved his twenties away workin’ that gas station. 

I’d wave back and get into my overly big, stupid truck and drive off with a hefty tank of gas and a dent in my wallet the size of a baseball. I worked this truck to the bone for five years since I bought it outright with no loans attached, reading my name on all paperwork, and I was just not ready to let it go. I’d pull up to work with my engine still purring, though, and it made every other man’s truck look like a play toy. 

You know, runaways don’t happen often, but when they do, it's always some kid in deep distress, as you could imagine. This time, when I came in, it was a young girl with deep bruises all over her body, inflicted by the ones she lived with. She cried to us and told us not to call anyone, that she was just gonna pass by after this and go on tryin’ to get away. Both of us were suckers as he packed her bags full of what she needed and sent her off on her way, giving her a two-hour head start before callin’ up the sheriff. 

I remember watchin’ her small frame go on down the road with her long red hair trailin’ down behind her and a knot hit my stomach like you wouldn't believe as I got into my truck at first and followed her all the way off the highway, just in case some pervert tried to give her a ride or kidnap her. When I knew she was a bit safer, I minded my own business and went home. 

“Charlie, what keeps you here?” I would ask the boy ever so often, cause I couldn't believe he wasn’t going to college or working a better job or even still living with his parents. 

“Oh, you know.” He would give me some sly smile and say, “Their pay is good, I get hazard pay for this job specifically, and I'm comfortable.” That's all he would ever say, and he never gave me the story on how he ended up here in the first place. 

I remember being with Charlie when Sandra G came into the building. She rummaged around and grabbed a handful of things before coming to the counter as I moved myself aside. 

“Maybe you have heard of me.” She spoke to both of us and gave off her most charming smile. “Sandra G. Ya know.” She began to laugh as if we were supposed to know. “I'm a big deal in the movie industry.” She tried to explain to us, but it didn't matter. “Maybe a discount for my fame?” She batted her fake lashes and tried to smile through her Botox and Charlie, and I laughed at her for maybe twenty minutes. 

Charlie gave her the employee discount, and very disgruntled and appalled, Sandra G walked off back to her 2005 sedan. I have so much to say about this place, I feel like I could never stop, as I'll go ahead and mention what happened between the witch and Charlie. A woman dressed in a Victorian black dress walked into the store and glared at Charlie as she shopped through the store. When she came up to the counter, she looked Charlie dead in the eye. 

“I have bad vibes about you,” are the words that came out of her black-lipped snarl. 

“Okay. You owe me 24.50.” Charlie said waitin’ for his payment. 

She pulled a leather pouch out of her purse and opened it up on top of the counter, and inside were a bunch of animal bones with bunches of chopped hair and toenail clippings. She took the bones in her hands and laid them out in a certain way, making some kind of sigil, and before we knew it, she was puffing a cloud of red sand in Charlie’s face. 

“I've cursed you, and now you will never be happy. For as long as you live, life will be nothing more than misery.” The witch promised as she handed the money over to Charlie. “I know your soul and for that you will always find unhappiness.” 

Charlie was flabbergasted, to say the least, as he counted out the money and gave her back her change. Before she left, she kept her little altar up on top of the counter. 

“Aren’t you gonna take any of this with you?” Charlie asked, looking at the mess in front of him. 

“It’s all cursed, I wouldn't touch it if you paid me.” She snarled as she walked out of the store and stepped into the passenger side of a Volvo minivan. 

I helped get all the sand off the counter and the floor, as Charlie had to wrap up the alter and get it into the outside trash, because there was some kind of odor coming from something she brought in, and we were tryin’ to get rid of it. Charlie and I are not superstitious in any way, and all that bull shit she blew out of her ass was just nonsense to both of us. After that, Charlie’s life still stayed the same, and I guess to most people that was misery, but not to Charlie, who was too set in his ways and always will be. 

Tonight I'm listenin’ to a man that looks like a pirate who has sailed the seven seas and takin’ on sea monsters the size of a swelling wave. I think he has been the most entertaining yet, besides Mr. Halis, who comes with a song that Charlie or I can understand. I always wonder what’s next and who will become a new regular. To be welcomed into the clan is a big deal around here, and I feel like Charlie and I knew that once I had been initiated into the group years back. I would stay and wait for the pirate to stop talkin’, but I can't be late for work again, and I gotta get movin’. I throw Charlie come cash and grab my own cigarettes before walkin’ out the door to my ever-lasting still runnin’ beauty. On my way to work, I looked behind me to see some kind of limo park itself right by a pump, and I couldn't wait to hear more about that this evening when I was gonna be driving back through. 

This is gonna sound insane, I know. I don’t blame you for not believeing me, but it’s just… it’s been a night. I just really need to get this all off my chest.

I’m used to cleaning up urine & excrement. Occasionally vomit. It’s part of the job on Diesel side. The automated bells chime, & one of the numbered lights turn from yellow to red. Whoever's on shower duty takes the cleaning cart to the small restroom & wipes everything down with a sanitizing solution. Once the entire room has been thoroughly disinfected, it’s supplied with a fresh, blue shower towel, & the password is typed into the combination keypad next to the door. The lock mechanism slides into place, & the cart gets wheeled back down the hallway, right behind the register.

It’s a thankless loop. The truck drivers & low income families who use the showers in our gas station usually don’t show any appreciation, not that it’s expected or needed. Past a handful of older men who leave crumpled 5 or 10 dollar bills for my female coworkers, the most we get is usually just a fleeting, awkward glance, or a brief nod with, “‘priciate it,” muttered under their breath.

A giggling young couple exited shower 10 at 12:17AM. When I opened the door to the room, I smelled strawberry shampoo, undercut by something visceral. Metalic, like burnt copper wiring.

The last thing I expected to see was semen or blood. I know, if you’re reading this, you’re probably thinking, “oh my god, who starts a story like this? Where could this possibly be going?”

I hate it as much as you do, probably more so. See, unlike you, I can't just exit the post & keep scrolling the subreddit. The only thing I could do was follow my manager's instructions.

We had a brief conversation over the old landline in the office. I told him about the state of the bathroom, along with sending him a picture of a bloody handprint, slapped onto the shower wall tiling. In a disinterested tone, he said that he’d handle anything if the cops came asking. He told me not to worry, because I wouldn’t get a follow up from him unless it was serious.

“That’s fine, but like, do you want me to call someone to clean it?”

“Well shit, who do you think we’re supposed to call, Pat?” Hammy’s tone was undercut with a razor blade of condescension. I always had the impression he wasn’t a fan of mine.

“I don’t know dude, isn’t it like, a biohazard or something? Like, can’t you get a disease-”

He cut me off with a dramatic, exhausted sigh, “...hold on, hold on. Disease?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, fuck’s sake, Pat, do you plan on rubbing it into any open wounds?”

“Oh gross Hammy, no, obviously not.”

“Okay, fantastic. You plan on cleaning it up with your tongue? Or scooping it with your bare hands?”

Internally, I groaned. 3 years of working at the Travel Stop, & so far, this was perfectly standard for Hammy. In hindsight, I don't think I expected anything else when I called.

“No, I don’t, sir.”

“Sweet. Double up on gloves, double up on mop water, steal some sanitizer cleaner from the emergency shelf, & toss the rags when you’re done wiping everything down! Think you can handle that?”

“Ugh, yeah. Sure, I guess…” I grumble.

For a moment, there was silence on the line.

“Is that all Pat?”

“I think so.”

“Great… You can hang up now, Pat.”

Trying to hold my breath as much as I could, I attempted to wipe it all up with as little direct contact as possible, ie; mops & rags as a physical buffer. Unfortunately, I had to use my gloved hands to get what the tools couldn’t.

Obviously, I didn’t want to think about what happened to create such a mess. Who would? You definitely don’t, & would probably appreciate it if I didn't describe the explicit imagery, but I’m telling you, it was distractingly excessive, especially the smell.

Semen in a restroom is disgusting & severely careless for whoever has to clean up afterwards, but not unheard of. Blood, while also unhygienic to just leave behind, is a little more feasible. Think used feminine-care products. But this… this was distinctly gratuitous.

I wanted to just bleach my eyes, keep working like a robot, & forget about it just as quickly as I’d seen it, but the sheer quantity kept me from disassociating. Random sized puddles of snotty white scrum decorated the floor & toilet seat like glistening, bleeding marble. A thick, transparent glob was sprayed across the counter, & partially dripped into the sink. Through leftover, strawberry-scented suds & bubbles collected in the center of the shower, I could see that the normally shiny silver drain was streaked with an ugly red hue. To top it all off, slapped like a signature on the shower wall, was the single, crimson handprint. There was more, but I think I’ve made my point.

As I tossed the filthy mop head & prepared to replace it, I considered that maybe I was reading into it too much. I mean, clearly, no one was injured. They had left the building in the same giggly, flirtatious mood as when I’d handed them their shower code. Still, I shuttered imagining how so much of either bodily fluid could have ended up there in such a short period of time. It could’ve all just been the product of a freaky, unprotected passion session, right? I mean, who hasn’t had period sex?

At 12:00, I gave them access to their shower. They went in, made the mess, left, then I discovered their leftovers. A phone call & 3 full mop buckets later, it was over. By 12:34, shower 10’s door was shut & locked, the whole room fully sanitized to a near ridiculous level. In less than 20 minutes, they had created so much blood (which again, I had to clean) that I genuinely considered the valid possibility of a small animal being slaughtered in there. But then, why the jizz? That’s the line of deductive reasoning I went down before deciding to just stop thinking about it.

I’d only seen the two of them go in with their shower bag, no small animals, no butcher equipment. I just took a deep breath & carried on with my shift, content to go with the period sex theory.

“Part of the job, I guess,” I told my coworker on break as I finished the story.

“Holy fuck, that’s disgusting,” she grimaced, pushing her leftover food away to placate her ruined appetite, “I straight up don’t believe there was that much.”

“Well, I called Hammy about it, & whether you wanna believe it or not, I’d like to not clean up the showers after crackhead sex again,” I rasped, letting the lit end of the joint between my fingers fizzle out. The thick mucus in my throat felt like it was swelling, & I tried (more like failed) to cough quietly.

“You think they were crackheads?” she asked.

“Ah, I honestly have no idea. I shouldn’t speculate, I guess.”

The back of my head resting against the brick wall behind me, I let out a dramatic wheeze. Once I had caught my breath, I stole a blue Taki from her discarded tray & stood up. She quickly checked her watch before following my lead.

“So what, Hammy really said you had to clean all that up?”

I shrugged & pulled out my inhaler. I violently shook it for a second, put the business end in my mouth, & squeezed the top. A flood of cold dust hit the back of my throat, & as I inhaled, the constricting muscles & tendons in my neck loosened. Blissfully, I could breathe again.

“Like I said. Part of the job, I guess…”

“You know, you’re crazy for smoking when you’ve got asthma,” my coworker smirked, understandably changing the subject.

“Oh, I know. I just smoke when this bad boy’s outta juice,” I held up a custom vape that had a picture of Moist Critical as Jesus printed on it.

“Oh shit, is that Andrew Driver?”

“Uh-huh, yeah, sure is,” I giggled sarcastically. I couldn’t tell if she was being deadass or not.

“Wow. Loved that guy in Megalopolis,” she mumbled thoughtfully.

I walked into the back office, getting ready to leave. Once my radio was plugged back in & my backpack was acquired, I clocked out for the night, listening to the office computer news stream drawl away.

“-olice say that the perpetrators are on foot near the West Plains area, & to call Weston Brady, Howell county Sheriff, if you see any suspicious behavior. The only evidence we have is 2 empty blood bags, which are currently being tested by the forensics department, & tracks matching a size 10 men’s pair of crocs. Experts advise-”

“You leaving?” my coworker interrupted, suddenly standing right behind me.

“Huh? Oh, yeah, I leave at 2:30am.”

“But Hammy said you’re here til 3.”

I looked at the time on my phone. 2:50.

“Well, the schedule says I stay til 2:30. I stayed an extra 20 minutes with you for your break. I think I’m good to go.”

She threw up her hands in a defensive motion, sighing dramatically.

“Well if you’re gonna git, git. Just take out the trash with the cum stuff in it if you haven’t already.”

I looked at the wastebin in the hallway. I scowled when I realized I hadn’t taken it out when I finished earlier.

“Shit… Okay, fine. But replace the bag for me, please. I don’t feel like comin’ back inside.”

“God you literally are the kind of person to use an Andrew Driver vape,” I heard her grumble from inside the office.

With the negotiation set, I grabbed the bag with a fresh pair of gloves on & heaved it out the door.

Once it was in the dumpster & my jacket was on, I began the trek back to my car. Our employee parking lot was right beside the semi overnight parking, which bordered the woods. As I walked past the idling monster trucks, I felt something was off. Like a pair of eyes were trained on the back of my neck.

Over our gas pumps’ glowing neon roof, an icy moon shone brightly in a pitch black sky, devoid of stars. A series of ghostly whips drifted across the infinite canvas. It looked like an old painting, depicting a eery, winter landscape.

The my warm breath in the November cold gave the illusion of fog faces before fading into nothing. Pareidolia. My hair was all at once standing on end, & I looked around. Seeing nothing, I turned to survey the treeline. Still, nothing. I was alone in the dead of night while tiny snowflakes fell & melted on my warm skin. I concluded that nothing was wrong. I was being paranoid. I just needed to get to my car, warm up, & go home.

“Everything’s fine, calm down,” I told myself.

Just as I put the end of the final 18-wheeler behind me, I heard the sound of something rapidly smacking against a metal surface, like wet hands quickly skittering up the side of the trailer. I spun around to see nothing. Just a normal big-rig. Perplexed & quite nervous, I stumbled backwards a few steps. I didn’t dare look away. I kept my eyes trained on the corner where that noise had come from. I was frozen, both by fear, & the cold.

“Hey! What the fuck is up, pal?!” an angry voice demanded from behind me.

Snapped from my stuper, I whipped around to see a short, hairy woman with an underbite & a dark, disheveled complexion. She was dressed in bright pink pajamas, with a comical nightcap to match. A pair of bunny slippers dangled from her left hand, & a pack of menthol Newports were grasped firmly in her right.

“Huh?” I gasped, confused. In hindsight, I’m sure I looked super suspicious.

“Well? You lookin’ for anything in particular?” She snarled. Light glinted off the worn metal of her steel toes. If I was gonna get my ass handed to me by a trucker who thought I was casing their joint, I did not want it to be this ol’girl.

“Oh shit, hold on ma’am, this isn’t what it looks like! I was just cutting through so I could-”

“Oh, I know what you want, you scoundrel! You mean to bust open some old lady’s trunk, snoopin’ out & about under the cover of night,” she heaved, lumbering forward, “You wanna have your way with me while I’m asleep & defenseless, don’t you?!”

I grimaced & held up my hands definsively, shaking my head. Before I could get another word in, the hag continued, working herself up more & more with each word.

“Oh, you degenerate! You want to take advantage of me, eh? Bully?! Well here I am, so go on, have it your way! But just know, I got a mean turkey waddle downstairs, & she gobbles somethin’ nasty!”

By now, I could physically feel her dank, hot breath on my face. It smelled like old coffee & charred enamel, like a dentist visit gone wrong. She bared her snaggle, uneven molars at me & began to unbutton her vivid, blush colored blouse.

I waved my hands frantically in protest to stop her, clamping my eyes shut.

“Oh gross! Holy shit lady, I just work here! I’m just trying to go home, my shift is over!”

I blindly fumbled my way to employee parking, dry-heaving at the image of the woman in my head.

“Fuck, get yourself a lot-lizard or something! I’m married, for Christ’s sake! Gawd!” I hollered over my shoulder.

I heard her grumble something about Missouri boys having no taste, but once I was sure some distance had been put between us, I opened my eyes & finished my dash to the car. I couldn’t shake the visage of the old broad’s nip-slip, & that only served to worsten my mood.

“God, what a freak,” I said to myself as I shut my car door behind me.

“What an unsettling, freaky night.”

I was so relieved for my shift to finally be over. I took my glasses off & rubbed the bridge of my nose, trying not to dwell on the night's debaucherous events.

I slipped my spectacles back on & glanced down at the last two messages sent from my phone. One had been the crime scene-esque image that had gone to Hammy, the other was a quick, “I’ll be home in 30 minutes,” text I’d sent to my wife, Charlie, only a few minutes earlier.

As if on que, a response flashed across my screen.

“Dearest Husband,

I regret to inform you that I will be working another double, so we’ll have to postpone our extracurricular activities until a later date. For now, make the leftovers in the fridge, & when I get home, those dishes better be done, or I’m gonna slam you against the bathroom mirror & choke you until your face turns purple.

Sincerely- your bitch wife. ❤️”

I smirked. I love the way she texts like an old calvary veteran writing a letter to his wife from a battlefield. Believe it or not, some women can be funny. Shocker.

“Kinky,” I typed, “was that a threat or a promise?”

I hit send, & three dots popped up for a second, before her final message appeared.

“Dearest Husband,

Both, depending on the state of those dishes when I get home. Seriously, I don’t wanna have to work another double, just to come home to a full sink again 😢

Sincerely- your bitch wife. ❤️”

The brief spark of a good mood flickered in my chest. I felt like I was always the one doing the dishes in recent memory. Irritably, I began scrolling for a YouTube video to put on during my drive home, when a new notification popped up.

“McDonalds, 20% off on orders $5 or more, deal applicable at participating locations”

I licked my lips. I had that taki earlier, but I’d skipped eating on my break. The perverted shower discovery had ruined my appetite for a few hours. But now that the atrocity was behind me, I could go for a McChicken or 2. I know, I know. Leftovers in the fridge, but the aroma of crispy fries & greasy burgers wafted into my nostrils, beckoning me like the curling of a thick, stubby index finger.

I looked in the backseat to see the weeks worth of fast food bags that had accumulated on the floor. The frown on my lips deepened. Charlie was keeping an eye on our shared bank account to make sure I wasn’t spending our checks on junk food. For the last month or so, every time I’d pull out cash for rent & edibles, I’d pull out a little extra, just enough that she wouldn’t notice. Discounts & reward points only go so far.

When I looked in my wallet, I saw a measly $2 & a couple miscellaneous cents. I couldn’t spend the pennies, but what about my credit card?

I used the app to check my balance. There was about $3. After a quick calculation, I deduced I could get myself 2 McChickens with the discount, & a large fry using accumulated points.

I pulled into the empty drive-thru on the side of the gas station. I got to the menu screen with my code ready.

“Hello! Will you be using the mobile app today?” The cheery voice crackled through the speaker.

“Yes please,” I responded.

“What’s your code?” The voice was now that of a hormonal teenage boy.

“Um, I think it's 1-9-L-5?”

“For Patricia?” He asked.

“Yeah,” I grumbled. I needed to get that updated to Patrick.

“Kay. If everything looks correct on the screen, you’re good to pull forward.”

“Thanks,” I said, starting towards the first window.

“Wait, actually hold on a second!”

I stopped, “Yeah? What’s up?” I asked.

“Uh, that’s weird, it looks like you tried to stack a deal on top of rewards points. You can only do one per order.”

“So what does that mean…?”

“I mean, I don’t think I can use your points for those fries. Really, it shouldn’t have even let you place your order like that…”

He was quiet for a second. It sounded like he & someone else were whispering on the other end.

“Uh, sorry I’m kinda new. I’ll get my manager, this is weird. Could you pull up to the first window for me?”

Ugh. I just wanted my food, so I could go home. 2 chicken sandwiches & a large fry was not worth all this. I decided on my way up that I would just overdraft my credit card to get the fries so I could leave quicker. I pulled up to the window, where the acne-riddled teenage boy stood next to a manager.

“Hey, are you the pickup order for the 2 McChickens & the large fry?” the woman asked.

I looked over my shoulder at the empty drive-thru, “yep, that’s me.”

“So here’s he deal. Zach here,” she patted the clearly stoned teenager on his shoulder, “said you tried to stack rewards points & a deal in the same order. You can’t just do that.”

“Yeah, uh, it doesn’t matter, can I actually just pay part with cash, part with card?” I mumbledo.

“You don’t wanna use the 20% off deal?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Nah, but are the points that I used on that large fry still gonna work?”

She shook her head, “no, but they’ll go back into your account in 7 to 10 business days.”

She held out her hand. Defeated, I just sighed, placing the cash & card into her palm. Just like that, transaction complete.

“That’s uh… that’s just the way our app works, we don’t, uh, control it…,” Zach droned, staring off into space.

“Yes, very good Zach,” the manager cooed, “we know buddy.”

Once the card was back in my wallet, I took a hit off my Jesus Moistcritical vape. As the yellow indica smoke filled my lungs, I felt my temper cool a few degrees.

“Just a stressful night, that’s all,” I told myself. As soon as I got home, I knew I would feel better. I just needed to eat & get home.

In a few short minutes, the woman was holding my bag out the window, & I grabbed it greedily.

“Hey, just so you know, you shouldn’t eat this much fast food,” she said, looking in my backseat as I rolled up my window.

“It's not good for you…”

What a bitch.

As I tore down the desolate road, I ripped into the pitiful chicken patty. While the sandwich curbed my hunger,I was still put-off. Buns tar & feathered by mayonayse & too much lettuce. The fries were perfect, though. I tossed the garbage into my backseat & took another rip off my vape, feeling the blissful high run down my nerves & tingle at the tips of my fingers. I was calm, but not unbothered. Something was wrong, the feeling of being watched had still not been shaken.

Given I was in public, I could logically explain my experience in the semi parking lot. But I knew there was no way that anyone should have been watching me as I cleared the winding hills of the secluded interstate. The snow particles zipped past my windshield, giving the illusion that I was going much faster than I actually was. I took another 2 or 3 hits off the vape & cracked my window. That was when the stench hit me. Going 65 miles an hour down the snowy road, it smelled like raw sewage & burning rust.

Just as soon as I registered the awful odor, red & blue lights suddenly appeared behind my car. Police lights. A new fear sparked in my chest, building to a roaring flame that caused my hands to tremble against my steering wheel.

Forming tears licked the edges of my eyes.

I just wanted to go home.

As I tried to find a shoulder of road to safely pull onto, I frantically shoved my vape into my pocket. If I got caught vaping THC while going 70 in a 65, I knew I wouldn’t be going home tonight.

“Just play it cool,” I said, bringing my vehicle to a full stop, & firmly placing both hands on the steering wheel. If I got a ticket, I got a ticket. All I had to do was be compliant, & this might all be over in just a few minutes.

Maybe it was how dark the night was. Maybe I was just distracted by the lights, but on god, I didn’t see or even hear the police man approach my car. It was like he just appeared in my driver’s-side window. His face was so close, it should have fogged the glass.

“Hullo, officer,” I mumbled, rolling down my window.

“License, registration, proof of insurance,” he droned, voice void of emotion. That put me even more on edge. I dug through my glove compartment, grabbing anything that looked like it could’ve been official paperwork.

“Beautiful night, huht?” I whimpered, tears welling in my eyes. He didn’t respond. Finally, I found what I was looking for. Sighing in relief, I turned the documents over to the cop.

“What is this?” He asked.

“Uh…” I didn’t know how to respond. Everything about this interaction felt off. Alarm bells rang through my head, but I tried to temper them. Was this a trick or something? “That’s my… registration & proof of insurance?”

“Oh,” he said, grabbing the paperwork & stuffing it in his back pocket, “right. License?”

“Oh shit, yeah, sorry,” I fumbled in my wallet for a second before passing him my ID as well.

“May I ask why you’re pulling me over?” I asked, & as soon as I did, I wished I hadn’t. When he glared up at me, I thought that his dialated eyes would burn 2 holes right through me. Despite the cold, unphazed expression on his face, something in his eyes held a vigorous intensity. Like I was the biggest inconvienience he could possibly have to deal with. Like he wanted to be done already.

He was silent for just long enough to be uncomfortable, before he finally grumbled, “Routine traffic stop. Gotta run these through our system. Next time, be faster.”

As his shoes crunched in the snow as he made his way back to his car, I let out a breath I didn’t even know I’d been holding. He claimed it was just a routine traffic stop, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad was gonna happen.

The whole night so far had felt like a taut wire, pulling more & more, the tensity becoming palpable, building to a breaking point. Like a balloon getting ready to pop.

I gagged on the scent that enveloped me. We had to have pulled off next to a sewage drain or something. That horrible smell just would not go away. It was like it soaked into all the fibers of my car. It made me want to throw up.

Even though he couldn’t have left me waiting for more than 5 minutes, it felt like an eternity. I was scared to move, to take my hands off the steering wheel. Even looking in my mirrors felt sinful, like I was doing something horribly wrong. But as I took my surroundings into account, something clicked in my mind. I wasn’t crazy.

When I turned back to see through my rear window, I could make out the dark silhouette of the massive police cruizer, idling dormant as snowflakes drifted past the hood. Considering the lack of headlights, it really looked more like a huge beast, just sitting there. The details became more apparent the longer I looked.

Why couldn’t I see the silhouette of his side mirrors?

Why did the red & blue flashing lights seem to be coming from inside the windshield, rather than the top of the car?

I saw the outline of the large man step out of the vehicle, but I didn’t see a car door open. It’s hard to explain. You know those Jeeps that don’t have doors? It was like that, as if his state-issued police cruiser had no doors either. His dark visage just seemed to materialize from out of the larger body, like he’d been one with the car only seconds earlier.

I snapped back around, facing forward. I could feel my heart beating its way into my throat, the vessles in my neck flexing & constricting. I felt like I was on the verge of an asthma attack.

As I heard his foot steps slowly crunch closer & closer, I spared a glance at my driver’s-side mirror. What I saw, as the snow drifed into my windows, confused me, made my blood run cold. He didn’t have a reflection. I could see 2 bright red crocs moving seemingly of their own accord. They took step after step, as if being worn by some invisible spectre.

What had I been smoking from that vape cartridge?

I heard the fabric of his uniform brush against the side of my car, but it sounded like something rough & textured, sandpaper-esque, grinding along the metal. As his footsteps became louder, the smell intensified. Just as he was almost to my drivers side window, I looked in my rearview. That was when I saw the full picture. That was when the pieces slid into place.

His car didn’t have a reflection either. I realized that all I saw in the mirror were just 2 disembodied lights, 1 red, 1 blue, hovering in the air, about eye level with me. I swear to god, it almost looked like they were eminating from pair of eyeballs, just floating there amongst the drifting snow.

Tap. Tap.

I slowly turned to look at the cop, who was now, finally, back at my drivers-side door. I felt a teardrop run down my cheek. My nerves were screaming for me to run. What was going on?

“Yeah, we have a problem,” he said.

“P-problem?” I stuttered. I must’ve looked petrified, but he just kept staring at me, dead-faced.

“I tried to run your info through the system. I didn’t get anything back.”

“Really?”

“Mmm-hm.”

We just stared at each other for a moment. I didn’t know what to say.

“Also, not to accuse you of anything, but your behavior during this stop has been highly suspicious.”

He glanced in my backseat, licking his lips as he surveyed all the discarded fast food trash. I could see the look in his eyes. It was the same one I’d worn earlier, in the drive through. He was desperately hungry.

“Highly s-suspicious?”

“Yeah, that’s what I just said,” he grumbled, turning to look back at me. His eyes drilled into mine, & I began to feel the last of my self-control slipping. I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

“Why didn’t you have a refliction?” I stammered. I didn’t know what else to say. Finally, his face twisted into a new emotion, but I knew he was just acting.

“Excuse me?”

“When you walked up to my car, where was your reflection?” I asked, more assured this time.

“Are you on drugs, ma’am?” He asked, faking an expression of concern. I was picking out more things now, more wrong things. Little inconsistencies. His uniform was all out of place, I’d seen what the police in our area wore when they’d stop for late-night coffee at the gas-station.

His badge was on the wrong side, there was no radio or body-cam anywhere on him, his shirt was the wrong color, not to mention, short sleeves in less than 30⁰ weather? His facial hair was patchy. There was no way this guy was a cop, he just looked like one. Like if you told someone who’d never actually seen a cop to draw one in a picture.

“Where was your reflection?!” I asked again, my voice catching. I sounded hysterical, I knew it.

“Okay, ma’am, this is ridiculous, may I please enter your vehicle?” He said, rising back to his full height.

“What?”

“I need inside your vehicle, if you don’t let me in willingly, I will place you under arrest.”

“No, you’re not allowed to do that.”

“Well then step out of the vehicle.”

“No.”

“Then let me in.”

“No.”

“Let me in.”

“No!”

“Let me in!”

“No!!”

His jaw tightened, I could tell he was angry, “Ma’am, you are directly interfering with a police investigation.”

“And what investigation would that be?!” I demanded. He stood, watching me, his fully black eyes narrowing furiously.

“I need to make sure you’re safe to drive,” he growled.

“I thought you said that there’s an issue finding me in your system? Why do you need in my car?”

He gritted his jaw & leaned back down, placing his pimply, blistered hands on the edges of my windowsill. I noticed that even his fingertips couldn’t enter my car.

“There’s… I need to… just let me in your car, I’ll verify what I need to, and I’ll be on my way. I’ll let you go real soon.”

Under the odor of rotten decay, I smelled something entirely out of place. Strawberry-scented body wash. The juxtaposition nearly threw me over the edge.

I let out a sob, grabbing the gear-shift. Suddenly, I remember what I’d heard in the office. I decided to give him one last test. I dom’t know why.

“Fine, get me Weston Brady, then.”

His look of simmering rage momentarily mixed with confusion. This time, I could tell that his bewildered expression was legit.

“Who the hell is Weston Brady?” He asked, the smell of death, strawberries, & burnt copper whafting off his breath. With that, I threw the car into gear, spinning my tires out & flinging muddy snow all over the fake police man.

“Fucking bitch!” He roared, but I took off before he had time to react.

If I had been speeding earlier, I was flying now. I went from 30 miles an hour, to 50, to 70, to 90 in about 45 seconds. The motor peaked, almost blowing out, but I didn’t care. I gripped the steering wheel, glancing to my rearview for anything suspicious, tears streaming down my face. I could still smell the rot, the disease. Right when I thought I was safe, something flashed just within my periphery.

I only saw it for a split second. I still don’t believe it. I swear to god it looked like a child’s rendition of a massive bat, like a diseased abomination that vaguely held the visage of something discernable. It smashed into the side of my car. It was so dark that it nearly blended into the night, throwing the surrounding snowflakes into contrast against it’s jet-black hide.

When it struck the first time, I felt the vibration shudder through my speeding vehicle, but I held my course. The second time, however, it struck closer to my rear axle. The traction control light came on. I was hydroplaining.

When they warn you about black ice on the road, listen. Shit’s treatcherous.

As my car spun around & around, fully out of control, the beast smashed down onto my hood with predatory precision. The sudden collision sent my head careening into the driver’s-side window, & I felt my temple bash hard against the glass. Concousness begon to fade. The last thing I saw before I passed out, were my headlights illuminating 2 massive black eyes, set deep into the sockets of a diseased, pig-like head. I had the briefest notion that one looked like it was tinted red, & the other, tinted blue.

I woke up only 15 minutes later. My head throbbed, but luckily, I wasn’t bleeding. My hood had a massive dent in the middle of it, & when I tried to pull my car back into the lane, I heard the distinct sound of metal grinding on pavement. I sighed, trying to recall what exactly happened, just moments prior.

I stepped out of my car, phone flashlight in hand, careful to survey my surroundings before going far. I checked my tires, 1 of which was blown out.

“Fuck.”

I didn’t have my license, registration, or proof of insurance. I was stalled just outside Panoma, a small town 20 minutes away from my home, with a blown out tire. How did I end up halfway off the road? Something had…

Oh my god. That thing that had battered me off the road. It tried to kill me. I fully remembered now. Why had it stopped? I was passed out, completely defenseless. I got back into my car & began searching for towing services. None in the area were open, & the ones that were would take easily over 2 hours to reach me. Not to mention my financial situation. With mounting dread, I made the decision to try & replace the blowout with a spare.

I got out of my car & took another hit off my vape. Dont judge me, I needed something to calm my nerves. Shivering, lungs tightening, I got the spare tire out of my trunk. I used a few small blocks of wood to hold my wheels in place, & hastily pulled the ruined one off using a shitty jack & a 4 way. Within 20 minutes, the donut was secured. Lastly, I popped my hood to check for damage to my engine. To my relief, nothing was smoking. Everything looked normal. Overjoyed, sobbing, I got back into my car to finish the drive home, Something at the edge of the treeline caught my attention.

I looked to see something tall & dark, standing just at the edge of the clearing, no more than 30 feet away. Even though I couldn’t see its eyes, I knew it was watching me. I took one last look at the image of Moistcritical Jesus on my vape, little cricifix in his hand. I held it up, & the beast shuttered.

“I’m going the fuck home!” I screamed. “Don’t you fucking follow me, I’m serious!”

I put it in my pocket, took a queeze off my inhaler, & closed the door behind me. Still reeling, I let out a sob & began to drive away. Despite the lack of a reflection in my mirrors, I could feel it standing there, just staring at me as I went further, & further.

The smell dissipated around the time I got to my apartment, but that didn’t stop me from looking over my shoulders every 2 seconds. When I got inside, I threw myself onto the bed, exhausted. Right as I was about to drift off, I remembered.

The sink full of dirty dishes. Even half awake, I knew I’d be in a world of hurt when Charlie got home if they weren’t done. I couldn’t let her down, not after all that. So I took another puff from my inhaler & got to work. It took me forever to finish them, but eventually, the sink & dish drainer were clear.

“Nasty bruise, what happened?” Charlie asked, handing me a cup of Dunkin’s coffee as she stepped through the front door. She gingerly touched my forehead, & I flinched reflexively.

“Sorry,” I muttered.

“No it’s fine babe, you…” she looked behind me, “did the dishes. Good job. Did you just finish those?”

I nodded & looked at the time. Just past 6:15am. The sun would be rising soon. I wasn’t usually still awake this early.

“Yeah, I uh, woke up early. Couldn’t sleep. What took you so long to get home?”

She smirked, “some idiot got into a wreck or something on the interstate we take to get home. Would’ve happened like an hour after you got out. I’m not surprised you missed it. Awful lucky though, huh?”

I stared absently at her.

“Black Ice & all that. Fuck’s sake Pat, you think you wanna go to sleep now? You look like you saw a goddman ghoul or something.”

I chuckled humorlessly, “yeah… or something.”

“Jesus Christ someone needs a nap, don’t ya?”

She led me into our bedroom & put a cool, damp washrag on my swolen temple.

“God Pat, what did you hit your head on? You think you have a concussion?” She asked, running her fingers through my hair.

I coughed.

“Nah, my car’s in way worse shape than I am.”

“Fuck, what happened to the car?”

I didn’t even know how to respond. I looked down at my Moistcritical Jesus Vape for a second & tried to find the words. I felt manic. I couldn’t believe that fast food & backseat trash had been the worst of my worries, only a few hours ago.

Finally, I flicked my eyes up, meeting her gaze. I smiled unsteadily.

“It’s a long story, but I swear to god it’s true,” I said.

“Oh… word?”

I sat up a little. I hadn’t realized it, but I was so sore.

“So like, I’m used to cleaning up piss & shit, right? Occasionally vomit. But last night was a really, really weird night…”

The plan was just to have a short camping trip with my dad. I felt terrible when I told him about the job offer I got, but he couldn’t be happier, he just kept smiling and telling me how him and mom were just so proud of me, and all he asked was that i at least come out with him to the woods for one last camping trip, of course I agreed because i had no idea when I was going to have the time after I move. But we shouldn’t have gone.

We both love the woods, my dad more so because of the type of work he does. He’s a nature photographer. He started this as a hobby when he was my age, and after retiring, he was able to start putting out prints to sell online “It's the happiest I’ve seen him in years”, Mom would say. She wasn’t wrong. I went with him occasionally to keep him company, but when he got focused, it was like he turned to stone with that camera in his hands. “I’m trying to get that perfect shot, Danny, it's out there”, was what he would usually say. 

I think he got a bit bored in retirement, and now he was treating this imaginary perfect shot like some sort of white whale, to cope with the boredom. But when we stepped out of his old banged up ford ranger, he told me, told me about the rumours he heard in town about a forgotten trail in the woods up in the mountains with nature that had been undisturbed for possibly decades.

At the beginning of the trail, it was hard to get my dad to start moving, mainly because he took every opportunity he could to take photos. Something was different this time, he was more about quantity than quality, which was unlike his usual style. Brushing this off, we set forth into the wild to bring back his prize, the perfect picture.

We hiked for a few more hours, listening to the sticks crunch and break under our feet, birds tweeting and talking about what my new job would entail and when I would be coming back home for visits, before he spotted the trail. “This is it!” he said excitedly at what looked to be no more than a broken off post like some sort of sad landmark. I was going to ask if he actually knew where we were going, but he was already pushing through the bushes behind the post. I followed him through pushing against the branches while calling out to him to wait up, otherwise we’ll get separated. I was just about to yell for him again when I burst out of the bushes and walked straight into the back of him, almost knocking myself over.

It felt like walking into a tree from the way his feet were rooted to the spot. He just stood there looking out at the forest ahead, only for a few seconds, but time seemed to stretch, making me feel uneasy. I tapped him on the shoulder, to which he reacted as if a bolt of lightning went through him as he jumped and spun around, scaring me at the same time. “Jesus! Sorry Danny I was in my own world there for a second” My heart was still recovering from the jump he gave me “Yeah from now on give me some time to catch up, before you sprint off” He apologised for wandering off while explaining the rumours he had heard on the internet and in town, about how he just had to be out here as soon as possible, that's when I stopped him.

While he was talking about Bigfoots and Mothmen, I noticed just how quiet it was “Hang on, just listen for a second” We stopped dead and listened. No birds, not a tweet, heck, not even any crickets. That’s when the feeling sets in, the one that's hard to explain when you’re in the moment, that impending sense of dread just creeping its head around the corner, like something knows it's got you, it's just a matter of time before you realise it too. It also had the same kind of feeling you get in church, that you’re supposed to keep your voice down, so we did, as if we couldn’t help it. Quietly, we made our way forward deeper into the woods, marking trees with paint along the way, making our own trail to find our way home.

We went on like this until the sun started to set. I had so many questions about what exactly my dad had heard from the town below the mountain, but I wanted to wait until we set up camp for the night. After setting up our tents, gathering wood for the fire, we sat down, a bit more at ease now listening to the crackle and pop of the wood as it burns. Thinking this was a good time for questions, I proceeded to hit him with the ones that had been bothering me more than most. “So why are we in such a rush to get out here, and whys this old trail so special anyway?” Grinning at this, I could tell he was barely containing his own excitement, so he told me.

“Once I got past the initial hoax sightings from people who were all too happy to spill the details on a shadow of a branch on their tent in the night, claiming it to be the goatman himself. I found the real ones, the people who were content to keep their mouths shut on what they had seen for the rest of their lives, that's when you know you’ve got something tangible when their tales start to sound the same. All these people who hadn’t met before, even decades apart between them, all had similar stories about this part of the woods, something not known by man, something that is deep in the heart of this forest that calls out to be discovered, its calling to me and I’m going to photograph it for my last trip out here”.

I perk my ears up at that “Last trip, what do you mean? I’m coming back later in the year so we can do this again” The look on his face said more than he was letting on, he smiled but the sadness in his eyes gave him away “What’s wrong?” My dad had something he wasn’t telling me, and I could see even now that he was going to try to hide it from me. He tried flipping the conversation to anything else, but I held my ground until he relented, letting out the air in his lungs and began to tell me about his diagnosis.

“I didn’t want to tell you until after, I mean, not even your mother knows, but she knows something's wrong. It started slowly this type of stuff always does, a slight case of memory fog is what I thought it was but when I found myself about a twenty minute walk away from home with no idea how I got there, I called the doctor for an appointment” I knew what he was talking about but he kept dodging the words because he knew as well as I did that saying it will make it more real but after a stinging few seconds of silence he said it anyway “ I have early onset dementia son” There it was, the pain in my chest manifested. For the first time in my whole life, I saw my father through and through “This is it, my last time out here, because I don’t want your mother to worry. Because honestly, I shouldn’t be out here now, but I would understand why you would want to go back now, knowing this” He looked up from the floor, looking for some sort of answer across the campfire, the smoke stinging my weeping eyes “Well, do you want to go back now?” His old eyes told me what I already knew “Okay then, but your telling mom when we get back she's owed that at least” Nodding slowly he got up, walked over and hugged me, before we both said goodnight and he turned in, while I stayed up for a while longer to think on what the next few months were going to be like, before hearing a snap of a branch somewhere in the dark in front of me.

The sorrow I felt earlier fled from my body, replaced by fear, while the rational part of my brain sprang to life, already firing on all cylinders. If we had been listening to the sounds of nature on the way up here, I wouldn't have thought too hard about this. But even now, the only sounds of the woods besides the breeze were just us and the crackling firepit we made, so what the hell was out there in the dark? My heart settled once I saw that it was possibly the only animal we had come across so far, it was a deer. I grabbed the old instant Polaroid camera I was given as a Kid from my bag to see if I could quickly snap a picture before it fled. 

I looked into the camera to see that this deer was moving further up the mountain at a snail's pace. From its white fur belly sagging beneath it, I thought it must be getting old. So since it was moving so slowly, I thought I could get a bit closer without startling it to get a better picture. I moved like a bull in a china shop, each step snapping every branch I could find, still the deer moved slowly forward up the mountain as if being pulled on an invisible leash. I decided to stop just ten feet away from it and took the picture, the flash going off was the equivalent of a flashback, lighting up the dark forest for a second before being consumed by the blackness again, and still that deer kept its slow speed steady.

Now I was a little uneasy, my dad would be in hysterics if he saw what I just did to get a picture, because if it were any normal deer, it would have fled the moment I sat up off the floor. So I decided to press my luck, and I stepped in front of it. 

I was expecting to see the white milky eyes of a blind and most likely deaf deer, but when I stood only just a couple of feet away, I could see its brown eyes in the reflection of the campfire, looking right past me, still focused on an unknown goal, using its old, shaky legs to get there. When it got up, it went right around me like a river passing around a stone, uncaring and undeterred. I waited there for a while longer, watching it silently as it walked from the light of the warm camp and back into the cold night.

I woke up pretty late in the day, the sun almost at its highest point, so we had a late breakfast/early lunch while dad was asking what I was doing up so late, so I explained the strange encounter I had with our late-night visitor. That's when he perked up at the sound of this: “Did you see which way it went?” I explained how it just seemed to be moving slowly further up the mountain, but we can probably still see its tracks if we look hard enough. Packing up quickly, we set off in search of our woodland guide.

While marching, the quiet woods were beginning to weigh on me, so I broke the silence by asking a few questions about what he heard from those people he was talking about yesterday. According to the older people in town that been in this nestled valley for most of their lives they all had a few stories to tell about weird things that would take place in the woods that surrounded them, but most of the time they could be chalked up to animals, people with no place to go living out there or local pranksters from the high school but every once in a while you get an account from a forest ranger, talking about sections of the woods being closed off to the public with no explanation or a strange thumping some of the older hikers report hearing off the trail, and some of them, well they don’t come home. After people search the woods for days and weeks with no sign of their missing family member, the case is shut, and those trails are closed off. Since then years have passed, real stories and myths have been shuffled like a deck of cards, and soon it all becomes a ghost story to tell your friends, then nobody cares about the old trails being found anymore.  

One story he found interesting was from a local ranger who was a friend of the family who got coffee at the diner my mom works at. He had been talking offhandedly about some of the local wildlife that had been acting strange again. Knowing that it was right up his alley, Mom immediately sent the ranger on over to their house and said he’ll get free lunch for the week if he gives her husband something to go on, out in the woods. So naturally, he went straight over to him and told him about the weird behaviour that had been happening on and off with the deer. “They just keep moving forward, doesn't matter if you get in their way or not, it's like they don’t even know you’re there. They just keep on keeping on. It's weird, sure, but sometimes when I’m out there, I feel it too, that pull that seems to have these old deer in a trance, but that's a mystery, for a young man, I’m retiring soon, so I don’t think I’ll be around to solve it”. After he left, my dad couldn’t wait to get out there and bring a one of a kind photo and a story home. He planned to question that ranger more before we set out, but he found out a few days before we left that no one had seen him come home after his shift one night.

There's most likely search parties out here now for him, and I’ve been keeping an eye out to no avail. I would like to think that dads got him on his mind as well, but that obsession I can see in his face when he talks about the tales people told him is slowly starting to take more of a toll on his empathy for the people that actually got lost out here. We stop every so often to take breaks which is when I start to worry about him, now that I know what he's been dealing with on his own, the sad part is now I can see it so much clearer in the way he drifts off in his own world when we’re walking then asks if I can hear something when there's nothing to be heard or when he accidentally repeats himself on a story he told me not five minuets earlier. I think being out here is making him worse. I decided I was going to break the news to him tonight. We need to go home.

We had been walking for hours and collapsed once we set up camp. My legs were aching. I could only imagine what he felt like after all of that walking, but that smile of his persisted, which was going to make this next part all the more painful. “We need to talk”, He played coy when I said that, probably thinking he could stall me until he thought of the perfect thing to say. He had been pretty quiet while helping to set up camp, like a kid who was trying to stay up by being quiet in front of the TV. He knew what I was going to say. “We need to go back dad” It stung the way he looked at me, not disappointed or angry, just sad, but he defended himself anyway. “You can go back if you want son, the trails marked, all you gotta do is follow the marked trees home” I recoiled a bit at that “I’m not going to leave you out here so you can wander off and get yourself lost and killed” Now he was changing his tune, with a slight piece of frustration in his voice talking about how this is it and there would be no more outings after this and basically rehashing what he said last night, before stopping abruptly and standing straight up “There it is again, can you hear it? The beating”.

Now he was scaring me, I had never seen someone's eyes that wide, like a rabbit that had just spotted a fox. Calmly, I walked up to him and grabbed his shoulders gently “I don’t hear anything dad its just the wind” A lie, but better than the alternative. He calmed down, sitting slowly “You’re right, we need to leave. I think I’ve made a mistake by bringing you out here. This isn’t for you” I didn’t know what he was talking about, but as long as he agreed to come back with me, I didn’t care. “Let's just get some sleep, and we’ll head out in the morning, okay?” With a sad smile, he said goodnight before heading off into his tent, and I did the same. In the morning, I got out of my tent and started to set up breakfast before feeling that horrible sense of dread again, now that the sleepiness was wearing off, that feeling told me, “When have you ever been up before your parents?” I practically ripped open his tent, but he was gone.

I had no idea what time he had left during the night, but by looking at what he left behind, I could tell all he had was the clothes on his back. I was losing daylight, I only took the essentials, a sleeping bag and dashed off after him. As my mad sprint continued, other woodland creatures appeared, some even that would have relished in tearing this herd apart, carnivorous and herbivorous alike moved together from all directions, all with the same motivation. Forwards. I couldn’t help but think of my dad when I looked at them. Did he even realise he had wandered off? I had no idea how bad he was since he got his diagnosis, questions flying through my panic-stricken brain, when did he leave, why didn’t he even leave a note, is he even alive?

I jogged as long as I could before needing to take a break against a tree, coughing hard with sweat dripping from my forehead. I took breaks a few and far between. While running, the forest seemed to turn from old dying trees and dead flowers into something beautiful. Nature clung to this dying place and refused to let itself go. Flowers hung from trees from the bottom of the trunks to the highest branches, all in one direction. The walk these peaceful creatures were on felt like a ceremony. I could see the sun was setting, making the forest a beautiful, picturesque landscape that he would have loved. It was going to be night soon, I had to keep going, I grabbed my flashlight from my bag and continued as the wildlife seemed to surround me, making me one with their herd, “Forwards” I kept muttering my mantra “Forwards”. 

As the dark crept in and my legs threatened to give out from under me, I felt it. The texture of the forest floor was softer than before, like walking through a marsh it became harder to lift my feet up from the molasses floor. I saw in front of my eyes flowers grow from just a sprout to a full bloom in a matter of seconds, life exhaled its lungs here to accelerate growth and birth of nature, faster than anything that should be possible. I could feel something else every few seconds, a steady *Thump* then again *Thump*, a heartbeat. I didn’t know what would happen if I let myself get swallowed up into the ground. Would I just suffocate, or would there be something down there waiting patiently? 

There was bile rising in my stomach, and my body was on its last legs. I had been pushing myself more than I had ever done before in my life, the adrenaline I felt from first running off after him had worn off shortly, making the rest of my journey that much harder. Along with this, I wasn’t having the same pull as the deer beside me, it felt like I was dragging an anchor, which made each step a conscious choice, because if I didn’t push now,  I knew I would give in and walk back the other way. Then came the soft glow beneath the soil, with each beat of the forest floor, a soft luminescence followed and intensified, I was close. There was a thick wall of trees ahead of me, almost acting like bodyguards against this secret of nature, animals pushed themselves through the tight gaps, and I followed, scraping my front and back against the trunks, scratching both sides of myself. I fell through the other side as if being birthed out of the treeline. I pulled my arms and hands out of the warm soup like ground as it desperately pulled onto me, regaining my balance, I stood tall to look forward and see the heart of the forest.

The old deer seemed to form a queue out from the treeline. They started from where I entered and waited patiently to move forward, their long journey now at an end. I followed with my eyes along where the dull-eyed creatures stood to see that they surrounded this hill in a spiral all the way up to the peak where a tall ancient tree stood. Its branches are as old as the rest of it, stretching towards the sky, flowing with the breeze, making them seem like a welcoming invitation to all who see. The glow came from the centre of the grey dying centre of the trunk. With each pulse, the glow fled from the source and raced along the path and back through the forest, leaving the centre of the tree just dim enough to see there was a hole waiting for others to walk in, and I saw for a split second before the radiance came back in force, there was a humanoid shadow walking across the threshold into the mouth of the tree.

With the last of my strength, I shove past the docile creatures in my way, even the birds that stood at attention on the backs of wolves didn’t budge as I clambered past them. Soon enough, I stood at the edge of this open maw. I stepped inside.

The pulse was starting to get faster, lighting up the inside of this stomach as I descended, getting covered in sap as I walked further down into the depths of this hungry beast, following its veins that masqueraded as roots. Each thump from below sent a warning to my brain, as if whatever was down here knew what I wanted from it. I reached the bottom, seeing a chamber ahead of me. Inside, I saw him taking steps forward into the pulsing mass of flesh containing all manner of poor creatures. My stomach dropped, and my mind screamed in horror at the sight of this hideous false god of nature that controlled its victim’s final days. I clawed and pulled through the chamber to get to him, with every movement of my legs sending pain shooting up through my entire body. I grabbed him by the arm, and he turned to face me, his left arm already halfway up to his elbow, inside the beating heart made of the dead. 

I screamed at him to pull his hand out, to just snap out of it, but I could see in his eyes that he wasn’t like the animals outside. He still had some willpower, and he was choosing to use it on walking into his death. It was like he was being enveloped by a snake, the hole was getting wider to accommodate his body to get my dad ready for digestion inside this bubbling, gurgling mass. I was so scared, I had no idea what he was thinking, but what was getting to me the most was that he still looked at me with those sad eyes, the same ones he used when I said we needed to go home. “Danny” was all he said. I ignored him and continued to pull in vain. “Its okay” tears falling from my eyes I still ignored him even with shoulder now consumed “Take my camera, do that for me, I know what's going to happen, I’ve seen the cycle” I told myself he was just confused that he didn’t know what he was doing, but he wasn’t, there was no look of confusion on his face, this was the look of someone who knows what kind of decision they just made. I slowly released my hand from his arm, took the camera from around his neck and hung it on my own. Even at my dad's death, he still gave me that smile, saying, “Go outside and get that once in a lifetime shot” I nodded, watching him enter the forest for the last time.

My mind now silent from the shock setting in, I did what he asked, I walked with ease through the tunnel, knowing the ancient tree was letting me go. I stroked the backs of deer and bears as I went, giving them a form of goodbye as they were pulled along up the hill. I reached where I had entered from and sat there while all the seniors of the woods migrated into their final resting place. 

It was in the early hours of the morning that I saw the change in the tree. Its branches are no longer brittle but healthy and strong, the bark going from an old grey to a shade of brown, looking more healthy and so mighty that no one could hope to chop it down. The pulses and thumps began to slow, so I got my camera ready for its last trick. The leaves sprouted as the morning sun rose behind the tree to greet it, giving it a wonderful shine along with a last pump of the heart. It shone brightly, the entire tree glistened brilliantly as I pressed the button, taking my dad's final perfect photo.       

I made my way back over days, fumbling around in what I thought was the right direction. Days passed, and I had little food on me, but I rationed it and carried on walking. I was found by rangers at some point in my delirium, rambling on about carnivorous trees. They brought me back to safety slowly and gently. I looked around to see that the trees and plant life around me were flourishing, while I crumbled in a heap. I couldn’t feel anything but hatred towards them, it was stupid, I know, hating a flower, but what else could I do?

I couldn’t explain what had happened when I got back. I tried explaining to anyone I could. I think even my own mother doubted me. I showed the photo to every doubting person in town, but all they saw was a tree. I don’t blame them, though it's more reasonable we got lost for days out in the woods, and my dad died of exposure, leaving me in a type of fugue state after witnessing his death. Eventually, I began to believe that, too. I struggled with that for a long time, and I decided to stay in the valley rather than go to that new job that said I could take as long as I needed. I moved on but stayed close to home. I had my whole life here, enjoying every second of it, until one night when I woke up suddenly to the sound I thought I had made up so long ago *Thump* it was faint, but I heard it.       

I think it let me go because I wasn’t ripe yet, but it's started now. I’m writing this down as a last farewell and to hopefully get people to understand why I will be joining the others in the heart of the forest. It's the cycle: you're born, you live, then you die, but sometimes you can give a part of yourself back before you do. I’m choosing to follow in my father's footsteps before the pull becomes unbearable. I’ll be one of many moving forward, but I wish to be conscious of my actions and not some dull-eyed deer being puppeted on a string. 

So I leave you with this, the story my father wanted to bring home. A legend about an old tree that calls out through the woods across the forest floor to those who are at the last of their days, so that it can begin life anew, so others may prosper in your place, and that's where I’m going.

Forwards.                     

Can we live on Mars 

The crew's personal record of case ‘Bio Test One’, the head doctor on staff is Mallory Kinsley. Doctors will rotate with shifts so that subject 001 can be watched and studied at all hours of the day and night. 

Synopsis of journal- 

Astronaut Captain Latem and his team discovered living bacteria after landing on Mars. We are conducting tests to see how the bacteria interact with human bio types. Past the animal testing stage of chimps and first mice, the bacteria seem not to resonate as much inside each primate and rodent, and now we are testing to see if humans interrelate with the bacteria to see if there are side effects with being exposed to the bacteria, or if it will just blend in with the natural immune system, as it did with the animal subjects. If living bacteria correlate well with a human host, then the possibility of building life on Mars is more evident and closer than ever before. Test subject 001 is a volunteer for testing and has signed over their life to our injections so that, upon finishing the trials, they will be more than generously rewarded for their time and total body control. Subject 001 has signed all non-disclosure agreements and has given us its last will and testament. Subject 001 will either benefit from this experiment or the subject will fail, and disposal actions will be taken to keep the bacteria contained. 

Journal Entry One- 

Dr. Kinsley: 
08:15 Injection One was given to Subject 001. Observation has been initiated, as Subject 001 is confined to a small apartment with minimal living requirements and as little human interaction as possible. 

Personal Notes: 

Subject 001 only flinched a little at the injection, which we used an anesthesiologist to perform a spinal shot, hitting the entire basic nerve system of the subject. There have been no side effects thus far, and the injection was given over an hour ago. Subject 001 is calm and collected, mostly sitting on a provided couch and watching adult animation cartoons on the provided TV. All vital checks were last checked and were clear and stable. We check every 30 minutes to see if there are any major fluctuations. The subject seems relaxed and fine, as being entertained so far has been enough to keep them happy. 

Journal Entry Two- 

Dr. Hemming:
18:15 Injection Two was given to subject 001, and changeover has been initiated with the next twelve-hour shift representative taking post and relieving Dr. Kinsley of her duty. 

Personal Notes: 

Subject 001 has been complaining of a stomachache for the past 2 hours after dinner. I'm wondering if there is a direct connection between the living bacteria and how they interact with meals. Is it specific foods that cause a reaction, or is it all food in general? Note taken on the stomach ache, and further observations will be made to see how the subject pulls through this first ailment. Besides a stomach ache, where the subject is still mobile and communicating functionally, there seem to be no other side effects at the insertion site or otherwise. The subject will be watched further to observe improvement in the illness or a decrease, and to get back on track. 

Journal Entry Three- 

Dr. Manson: 
08:30 Injection Three was given to test subject 001, and the changeover has been initiated, relieving Dr. Hemming from his duty and passing responsibilities over to the next sentry guard. 

Personal Notes: 

Subject 001 has had frequent drops in blood pressure throughout the day and has been very lethargic, with limited interactions with other humans. Subject still seems to have a level head, and self-isolation seems to be regulated in their livelihood. Subject 001 has complained of an aching stomach, but only observation factors have been initiated, as we want as little medication in the subject’s body as possible to start with. Other than feeling sluggish, the subject still seems to be in positive working condition. 

Journal Entry Four- 

Dr. Kinsley 
16:45 Injection Four was given to test subject 001, and a changeover has been made between Dr. Manson and Dr. Hemming. 

Personal Notes: 

The subject has been vomiting since lunch, and meals don't seem to be interacting well with the bacteria; as far as it seems, it is all food that causes this violent reaction, not specific foods listed. I think starting with fruit was a good call made by Dr. Manson, and beginning with something as subtle as chunks of skinned apples, which were rejected, as well as citrus and sweet fruits. Vegetables have also been eliminated from our list, as a more violent reaction of regurgitation occurs with especially green vegetables. Subject has also failed to hold down gourds, roots, herbs, and any meat. The subject seems restless, as it has been pacing the room for the last hour. 

Journal Entry Five- 

Dr. Hemming 
08:02 Injection Five has been administered to Subject 001, and Dr. Kinsley has switched duty to Dr. Hemming 

Personal Notes: 

A small red rash has started to bloom around the injection site, and the Subject complains of itchy skin, as to quote “It feels like ants crawling under my flesh,” and vomiting has still been an immediate response to any kind of nutrient besides water. The living bacteria seem to accept water into the subject’s system, allowing themselves and their host to not dehydrate. I wonder what the living bacteria are feeding on if it is not food ingested by the subject. More thought should be given to why the need for hydration seems to be a more important factor than the kinds of nutrients we can provide, such as vitamins and minerals. Artificial food should be tested next on the subject to see whether chemicals have a better reaction to the bacteria’s digestive system.  

Journal Entry Six- 

Dr. Manson 
16:42 Injection Six has been administered to the subject, and now Dr. Manson is taking over as lead watch on this project. 

Personal Notes: 

The rash around the injection site has spread to the entire back of the subject’s neck and shoulders, and the rash seems to be bubbling with pus and other bodily fluids. Subject 001 complains of having the sensation that it is on fire, and artificial food has seemed to be accepted into the host’s body. Let the record show that the subject's weight at this time is 110 pounds. Keep a close eye on rash and weight as this process continues. The subject has been pacing more often but seems to sleep well. Subject 001 can also be seen muttering to itself during random hours of the day. Anti-nausea medication has been administered to the subject to see how that reaction occurs when trying to ingest nutrients again. The subject also weighs about 111 on the scale currently, and junk food seems to be the only substance the bacteria tolerate well, which is a greater health risk in the future. I'm wondering if the bacteria are slowly killing the host. 

Journal Entry Seven-

Dr. Kinsley 
08:23 The Seventh injection has been given to the subject at the bottom of the spine because the rash has become too blistered to inject any more into the spinal cord. 

Personal Notes:

Anti-nausea medication has no effect, as the host can eat nothing but artificial ingredients to stay active and alive. The weight is 115 at this time and seems to be growing, which is another health risk to the subject. The subject does have arm restraints now for scratching and picking at the blisters on the very painful rash that has now consumed its entire neck and is spreading from the shoulders to the sternum. The subject complains of feeling like a million knives are stabbing into it at once, and moving is a tragedy all on its own. Subject still paces more often around the room and has abnormal behavior when talking to itself. Hair loss also seems to be occurring, as chunks of hair are found shed throughout the entire apartment, as if a cat were living there with the subject. Other than pacing, subject 001 lies in bed or in the coach and has been using the restroom less frequently. 

Journal Entry Eight-

Dr. Hemming 
16:38 injection Eight has been given to the subject like an epidural, and now has to be held down for a routine shot. 

Personal Notes:

Subject 001 has become very violent, and the rash has taken over the subject's entire torso but has not spread any further or to the subject’s face. Pain medication has been given to the subject, as well as an IV, because the subject is only eating artificial ingredients to stay alive, but is less active. Weight currently stands at 116 and is still increasing, with a 2-pound increase over the past 24 hours. The subject only sits on the floor or stands for sitting against anything, which causes excruciating pain, for which the subject has been prescribed pain medication, and the dosages for comfort seem to be rising. Subjects can no longer control their bowels, so a catheter and an FMS have also been inserted, with the catheter to help collect feces and urine that have been left on the subject and on the floor. 

Journal Entry Nine- 

Dr. Manson
08:34 Injecting Nine has been administered to subject 001, and rash has now spread to the lower back as well as the top of their thighs. 

Personal Notes:

This is the last shot that is given to Subject 001, for violence seems to be the only thing taking over the subject, for the subject has cracked the two-way mirror into the open apartment with its head and has been restrained for the safety of itself and for the safety of others. Subject has been yelling at itself for the last two hours and has been removing its medical equipment, reverting back to urinating and pooping on the floor. The blisters seem to be more sensitive now, as touch is impossible anywhere on the subject’s body where the rash has formed. Rash has moved to the subject's lower face, and the subject’s lower jaw can barely be seen, as the blisters are either too large or there are too many to even see any lips or mouth opening from the subject. The subject also seems to be bloated, and there is no more hair on the subject’s head. 

Journal Entry Ten- 

Dr. Kinsley 
16:42 injection was given through the wrist vein, rather than the spine, because the rash is too severe to be tampered with. 

Personal Notes:

After the last injection at 16:24, the subject began to writhe on the floor and scream out for mercy. At 19:28, subject 001 has escaped custody and is lost somewhere in our physicality. Staff is currently searching for the subject, and all exits are guarded to contain the bacteria. Last sight of subject 001, the rash had spread over the entire body, and the subject’s stomach was overly bloated. The subject has no hair, and pus-filled blisters have formed on the entire scalp. Subject 001 has no covering and is considered a threat; precautionary measures will be taken, as the possibility of bacterial spread is terrifying. Subject 001 has been a failed project, but with greater understanding and further manipulation of the living bacteria, I believe we can make it stable enough to be exposed to human life forms. More notes will be taken with the next project. 

I noticed it when I took my laundry out of the dryer. The clothes were still wet after the third run, & I was honestly just pissed & ready to take them to a laundromat. When I tried to yank a handful out with a flustered jerk, the line went taut & I heard the telltale sound of fabric tearing. Enraged, I stood up, took a deep breath, & gently began removing them into a basket.

When I leaned down to find whatever they’d gotten caught on, I gasped. Past the swinging lid, was the lint catcher, followed by the usual scuffed metal that made up the inside of the tubular cavity. However, much to my chagrin, there was no rear wall. The horizontal hole just kept going, extending further & further back, eventually tapering into a pitch-black void. The small light that illuminated the inside of the machine faded out just 15 feet in.

I was so enthralled that when the phone in my back pocket began singing, I almost had a heart attack. Recovering from the startle, I pressed the little green button, cutting off Michael Jackson’s “Smooth Criminal” right at the part that goes, “you’ve been hit by, you’ve been struck by-”

“Hello?” I asked with an unnecessary undercut of flustered attitude.

“Hey Snookums, you get my text?” A cautious voice asked from the other end. My shoulders relaxed a little when I realized who it was.

“What? Oh, shit, yeah, sorry dad, there’s… I’m not gonna be able to come over today.”

“Oh, damn,” he said, thankfully unbothered, “that’s fine. I’ll let your mom know, she’ll let Cris know… you okay Sarah? You sound-”

“Yeah, no it’s,” I interrupted. I knew what he was asking, I just couldn’t find the words to answer. How do you tell a man that your 3 year old dryer, which he helped you purchase & move to your apartment, by the way, has suddenly become some sort of endless… hole in the wall?

“Wait a minute, does it even go into the wall?” I considered out loud, leaning over the top of my dryer to examine the wall behind it.

“What?” my dad asked.

“Oh, sorry, dad, it’s my dryer. It just… I don’t know, it got longer on the inside?” I tried to explain as I confirmed that the hole somehow didn’t extend into the wall. That just left me with more questions than answers.

“Hm?”

“The inside got longer, dad.”

“Your dryer… is longer?”

“Look, I don’t know how to explain it, okay?” the scowl on my lips deepened

A flashlight finally found its way into my fishing hand through a kitchen drawer filled with nick-nacks & junk. Triumphantly, I began searching for my next item.

“It’s just, I was doing a load of laundry, & I know you’re gonna say it’s cuz I overfilled it, but I swear I didn’t this time.”

“Mmm-hm.”

“I know, because I got the whole basket in there, & there was still plenty of room.”

“Mmm-hm.”

“You don’t believe me, do you?”

“Sarah, just-”

“Okay, okay, I put it in the dryer for 1 cycle. They come out wet still-”

“Right, so run them again, Sarah.”

“Well, that’s what I did, dad,” I said as I felt around blindly on the top of my fridge for… bingo. A roll of duct tape.

“I ran it twice, & the clothes were still sopping.”

“That’s not good.”

“I know, so I ran them one more time, & they were still wet.”

“Crist sakes Sarah, damn thing’s just broken! You overfilled it again!”

Technically he was right. If my dryer turns into a neverending tube of darkness that makes my clothes wetter & then also rips them, I consider that broken.

“Well I know it’s broken dad, but liste-”

“Jeez, you just bought that dryer, girl!”

I rolled my eyes & began duct taping the flashlight into the end of my broom handle.

“I mean, it’s a 3 year old appliance, dude.”

“Well yeah, but it ain’t s’pos-”

“Dad- fucking, just stop.” I interrupted him, “I’m like, trying to explain & you keep talking over me, please just listen to me!”

He went silent & I crouched down til I was eye level with the gaping orifice of my dryer.

“Okay. Sorry, Sarah.”

“It’s fine dad, just listen. I pulled my clothes out after the third run, & in the dryer, you know, the tube thingy that spins everything around?”

“Yeah, the tumbler.”

“Right, that just… it keeps going,” by now, I was beginning to feed the flashlight into the tunnel.

“What? Like it won't stop running?”

“No! Look, I know it’s weird, okay? But it’s literally longer. Like, there’s no back wall anymore, it’s just like, a long, thin hole.”

My dad took a second to follow what I was saying, then asked, “you sure?”

“Well,” I scoffed, inching the flashlight forward little by little, “I taped a flashlight to a broom handle & I’m putting it in now, but it’s probably too small to get very far.”

“That’s what she said.”

“Dad…”

“Sorry, sorry, I’m just… that’s… wow. How far does it go? Does the hole cut into the wall?”

“No, it doesn’t, the outside’s completely normal. I just can’t tell exactly how far it goes,” I grumbled as my flashlight neared the edge of visibility. Now, with the added light, I could see further in. For a minute it just looked like more of the same dryer interior. Grey scuffed metal.

“What does it look like?” My dad asked.

“Normal, just like the regular dryer but way bigger,” I muttered, flicking the light to the end of the broom stick.

“Kinda lik- oh my god!” I yipped, dropping the broom & falling backwards into my ass.

"What's wrong? Sarah, are you okay?!” My dad frantically asked over the phone.

I stared into the interior, my brain trying to convince my eyes that I was misinterpreting. But I knew what I was looking at. After 30 seconds of constant, unblinking comprehension, I couldn’t deny it.

“Holy fuck dad.”

“What happened?! Are you hurt, baby?!”

“No, I’m…”

I stood to my feet & backed up a little, keeping my eyes trained on the opening. I was afraid to look away.

“Dad, it’s… it’s got teeth,” I whispered shakily.

“Sarah…”

“I’m not kidding dad,” I whimpered, a teardrop rolling down my cheek. I thought to myself, what the fuck is going on?

“I put the flashlight in it, & it's normal for about 15 feet, but then it starts…” I felt a lump form in my throat, “the metal becomes this like, the inside of like, a gum tube, or I dunno like a ground beef tunnel, & there’s something jutting out, all over the- fuck dad I was just on top of that thing,” a shiver ran up my spine when I thought back to a little over a minute ago. I’d hopped right on up to see over the appliance, if I could even still call it that. Did those little sparkling specks that lined the inside have anything to do with my clothes getting caught? Did my laundry get torn by… oh god I was gonna be sick.

“I’ll be right over, don’t touch that thing anymore! Put me on hold, call the cops, the fire department, or the NPID, whoever, & get the fuck out of that house, okay Sarah? Sarah??”

I grabbed the clump of moist laundry that had gotten caught inside the dryer. Carefully, I began examining each article of clothing. Soon, I was holding one of my favorite shirts. A blue long sleeve with a massive gash across the stomach, something solid ensnared in the fabric.

I had a sinking feeling of what was coming. As the small, almost inconspicuous thing fell out of the shirt, I felt my stomach drop with it.

I would’ve thought it was a misshapen, oblong, yellow rock if not for the bottom that tapered into 3 tiny, bloody tooth roots. I picked the object up with quivering fingers & felt my lungs begin to race each other. I was on the edge of a panic attack.

“Sarah?”

“Sorry dad, I-”

Just as I started to answer, I heard a new sound. One that made me stop in my tracks. One that made my blood run cold. The slap of wet appendages, echoing as if something slimy was crawling quickly through a long tube, straight towards me.

I’m afraid to look back, over my shoulder. I can hear it getting closer, it’s in the metal part of the pipe now.

TLDR; after 3 attempts to dry my clothes in my drier, I checked inside to see what was up to find an infinite tube of existential despair. Upon further investigation, I saw the tube of existential despair was actually a tube of existential flesh despair with rows of teeth lining the interior, and it tore my favorite shirt. fml

This isn’t my like my normal posts, but I need feedback before I sink hours of dedication into something that may ultimately lead to very little. I’ve posted a few stories on this sub, some long form, some short form, and I want to make a multi-part series that’s been stewing in my heart for a while.

The narrative would follow a morally grey, old, long divorced couple who are notorious sorcerers and ex-cultists. They dislike each-other strongly, but have to work together one last time to carry out their son’s dying wish while they’re stalked by Daqremaunt, a vampire whose job is to hunt down supernatural criminals. Does that sound intriguing, or should I just discard this one? Concept art in the comments.

But it happened right there in the blink of an eye: the child went from a newborn to a baby that could crawl and sit up on its own. You had always wanted a little girl, and you finally got one. I gaze upon our beauty now and see her grow even more mobilized as the days pass. It was such an odd sensation. As I blinked, I felt like there was some kind of magic behind it, because when I blinked, you went from being a grub to being a child, and I don't know where the rest of the time went. 

With another blink, it happened again as you went from crawling to now walking and speaking in full sentences. Where had the baby stage gone? When did I get to hold my child in my arms as it rested upon my chest in a milk daze, ready for one of the baby’s best naps, which was only one of many to come. I can't recall my daughter taking her first steps, trying her first piece of solid food, or even saying her first word. All of that area is blank to me. I remember when she was born, I remember her crawling around, and now I know she is walking and talking like a little human, just starting to grow up. 

I blinked again, and my daughter was in her second year of school, and kindergarten was a mystery to me, for I did not live that part of her existence, and if I did, I don't recall being a part of it at all. I watched as my daughter tied her shoes by herself and ran to the bus down the street, her mother and I watching her go, leaving her with kisses and waves. My wife is still as radiant as ever, but exhaustion has taken root in her eyes as her canthus has begun to wrinkle more than usual, and your outer canthus has begun to do the same. There are deep bruised bags under her brilliant green eyes as she tries to tend to three people and work full time while managing a house to keep in repair. 

Shit, I blinked again, and my daughter was yelling at me from down the hall about how it isn’t fair that she couldn't talk to boys on the phone as she was a teenager now and a viciously angry one at that. Where did middle school go, or the rest of elementary, and why, with a second of darkness, does my world just fast-forward years at a time? It wasn’t like I knew when it was going to happen, so I couldn't just keep my eyelids open on a constant basis. I had to live with this speedy life. My wife has grey hair now, and my beard is looking the same as we still continue to grow old together, and I wish more than anything I could hold onto the love of the years past that I didn't get to celebrate. 

Blink. There it goes again as I watch my daughter go off to college out of state, and her adult life could really take flight now, even as I missed all the dating stages of her life, and even the heartbreaks those loves have led to. Where was my chance to wipe her tears or give her praise for how proud I was of her? My wife and I are alone now, without a child in our nest, and my future with her was one I couldn't wait to start living. This was the end goal to be alone with each other once more. 

I tried to keep my eyes open as long as possible each time they needed to blink, but I couldn't help it, as now I was walking my daughter down the aisle to a man I didn't know she was going to marry. When did I meet this man, and how had he met my daughter, as my whole past was blank before me? Where were the summers with my daughter, and where was the first time I met her future husband? When did I get to hold my wife and sleep next to her anymore? My life was in a downward spiral, and the time I did remember, there were days between each blink that I got to live to the fullest with my entire family at the helm. 

Her first divorce was from a marriage that lasted two years, and I didn't go through any of it with my daughter, as I wasn't there for my wife as she began to get sick. I was losing my mind, and insanity had taken over as my family noticed the sudden bursts of animation I had for only a few hours at a time. They embraced this heavy love with everything it was, and my family remained strong against the current, even with my days at the helm long gone, for I was no longer in control of my life, but whatever was choosing to take chunks away was their fault. 

My daughter is out of school now, and she has moved into a house two hours away from her mother and me. My wife and I didn't mind the distance, as during the time I was awake, I was driving to see my daughter with my still sprightly wife. I could see it now, overtaking her face as the sickness turns her pale and gives my wife bloodshot eyes. That was the last time I traveled with my wife to see my daughter and her new house, which we had helped furnish half of, as I was making up for all the years I didn't get to have. 

My wife is bedridden as I took another random blink in my life, and I saw her decrepit body aging far too quickly, as my wife’s hollowness was far past barely noticeable. I sat with her on our bed and with my daughter on the phone, I still kept this family going, and together with every piece of might I had left. I wasn't there for my wife in the early stages of her ailment, and I wasn't there during the beginning of her treatment. For now, I only have a bedridden love that can no longer function properly without assistance. 

I'm at a funeral now, standing next to my daughter, who is holding a baby, and a new man who comforted her at my daughter's side. As I realized it was my wife’s funeral, my heart immediately began to mourn. I could not hold my breath for the love of my life, whom I only got glimpses of, was gone, and I didn't get to spend years with her at her side through the healthy life and the sick. I cried at my wife’s grave even after everyone had left, including my daughter, who had stayed with me as long as she could. I stayed on my wife’s grave overnight and almost decided to dig her up to be certain that it was her who had perished, as in my anguish, I couldn't accept that she was gone. 

I took another blink, and I was in a very nice house with a two-year-old on my knee and some funny cartoon playing on the TV in front of me. I watched as a five-year-old ran around the house like it was on fire, and my daughter was yelling to high heaven to make that little boy calm down. I hugged the little girl on my lap and squeezed her before running down that little boy and tossing him up in the air as he giggled and laughed. I went to my daughter and held onto her as if it would be the last time I saw her. I played with my grandchildren as much as I could, and I got to know my daughter’s new husband briefly as the universe allowed me just a little reprieve from my curse. 

I am so old now, but I am kicking alive harder than ever, as my grandchildren are in their thirties and they have their own little nine-to-three-year-olds running all over the place. It looks like I am in my own house, and my daughter is yelling at me sternly about how I can't try to drive and come see her anymore, for the doctor had apparently told her I couldn't drive that far on my own, which I think is a whole lot of horse shit. I stop her yelling with a big hug, and she holds me back just like when she was a child, a child that I missed years of her entire existence, as life to me was nothing but blackness. My wife was gone, and my daughter was all I had left, and I just wanted to be near her as much as I could as I coaxed her to stay just a couple more nights before taking off to go home. 

I am bedridden just like my wife was, and there was a TV playing in my bedroom in front of me. I was still in my own house as I could feel the cancer pump through my body for the first time. I had to lean over and heave out a bunch of bile and IV fluid as a woman I didn't know came rushing into the room to assist me. I got acquainted with her for the first time as she looked at me like I had lost my mind, and that worried her, for she thought a new sickness had begun to evolve in my brain. I just told the woman I wanted to see my daughter, and I wanted her here right now, as the nurse told me that wasn't possible, as your life had to be alive without me by your side. I mourn my wife, I mourn my child, for I haven’t seen her in years, apparently, and now that I am awake, she is still so far, and I am unable to travel to her any longer. 

God damnit my daughter has begun to have grey hair as she is hitting her sixties, and my great-grandchildren all surround me with their own babies who looked like they had adored my life with them, for they all clung to me on my bed, lying down with as much room as was given to them. I guess I had awakened to a family reunion as I gazed upon my daughter’s ageless face and forced my body up to hold her in my arms for possibly the last time, and she wept on my shoulder and squeezed me back like she wasn't ready for me to leave yet. I lay back down in my bed, feeling heavier than ever, as my great-grandchildren rearranged themselves on the rest of the mattress around me. I felt so warm and so loved as I held my daughter's hand while she wept at my side with a smile on her face and memories spoken on her tongue. She was still so beautiful as I looked at my daughter as if she were still that newborn I only got to hold once in my life, which I can remember. 

I didn't blink again after that. My world just fell into darkness, and I never saw my daughter upon awakening again. I'm in some sort of limbo now, just hoping to find my wife floating around here somewhere, trying to find me as well. I feel like I have lived a good life; I have no memory of it, just little glimpses of who I was as a husband, father, grandfather, and great-grandfather. All those little memories run through me now as I weep for my lost life. I didn't get to know my daughter or love my wife as much as I should. I didn't get the years of school or the heartbreaks that came multiple times for my daughter, and where was I when my grandchildren were born? 

Everything is gone to me, and now I am just waiting to see what my life holds next as I float around in an abyss of darkness.

I was walking through my garden when I noticed a little blue egg amongst the bleeding hearts and tulips, and wondered where the nest could have been. I then worried, even if I found the nest, would my scent deter the mother from taking back its egg? I did not know what else to do, so I took the egg inside and googled how to save a small bird egg because that’s what I thought this was. I followed every instruction throughout the entire process, and the egg cracked and I gave it a chance at a life to the egg that would have been doomed if not for me. 

As it came out of the shell, I watched intently as what looked like tiny arms punched through the shell with two-fingered hands, and when the face was shown, it looked like some kind of lizard, not a bird at all. I watched as this little creature rolled completely from its birthing place, and it stood up, wobbling at first on two thick thighs that complemented its meaty calves. But then I saw how its arms were so small, barely protruding from its body. Its head was like a rectangular block, and its jaws held a set of razor teeth. I realized this had to be some kind of dinosaur, which couldn't be correct because dinosaurs have been extinct for billions of years.  

The little lizard walked up to me and turned its snout to my face. I laid my palm out, which the lizard bit first, but when I reacted, the lizard understood and did not bite me again. It sat on my palm, and I brought it up to my face for further examination, for in my view of sight, this was what looked like a little T. rex in my hand, and there was no mistaking that from some other lizard. 

I decided to keep it and built it a nice home in an enclosed room where it could run around freely, and I tried to make it feel like it was as outside as possible, and I even allowed the little lizard to hunt down its own meat, which I provided through a small opening in the front gate of its room. I sat and watched my new friend run through its new habitat, pondering what to call it. I had no clue what gender it might be, so I had to just pick one and hope for the best. I named the little guy Birdie since I thought the egg I had was from a bird in the first place. It was so small and unprotected, and I had the nurturing will to save it and give it a life. 

In a week, Birdie was the size of a beer bottle, and little insects were not in her diet anymore, so I had to make a trip to the pet store and see what kind of vermin I could buy to sell to my carnivorous pet. I fed Birdie mice, which she chased around with her two stomping feet, nibbling at their tails and playing with them until she caught them in her massive, sharp maw. 

Birdie was savage as she ate and tore apart all the meals I gave her, which had to become more frequent now since her sudden growth. By the next week, she was the size of a basketball, and her habitat was getting too small for her to live in. I had to think about how I was going to make up for the sudden growth spurts over the past two weeks. Birdie runs around my house now, and potty training has been a hard effort on both of us as teaching her to go outside is like trying to teach a dog, and Birdie’s shits are worse, more massive and gushy than any animal I've seen outside of the zoo. 

Birdie preferred the entire tenderloin salted for dinner each night for now, since mice were obsolete from her diet, and we still had to stay on a carnivorous eating habit. I let Birdie sleep at the end of my bed, which she takes the entire middle of, and she eats from a plate at the table, which is a treatment a level up from a pet. Before I knew it, Birdie began to get stuck in my doorways, and I had to let her live in the backyard, which, in turn, meant I needed to buy a shelter for her. 

I searched every hardware store for something that would fit, and all I could find was a big, ugly shed. With no other option than to get it, I hid you inside with two tenderloins to keep you busy while the workers set up the new structure in my backyard. Birdie was not happy about the changes we had to make, but she put up with them all the least when she took a gander at her new living arrangements. 

The shed was insulated with two windows on each of the left and right walls of the new house, and I put in a fuzzy carpet that would be soft on Birdie’s feet and would warm her feet when the weather was too cold. Birdie’s new nest consisted of a twin-size mattress fully furnished with a chew bone and all, and Birdie loved it, but she still wasn't happy about not being able to be in the house, and it was hard to explain that the size of her was the issue, not Birdie herself. 

Then Birdie became as tall as my back fence, and her entire body took up the floor of the shed, and that’s when I became worried about her next growth and how I was going to hide her then. So I did the logical thing in desperation: I sold my house within days and bought property out in the crop lands to live in a farmhouse. I built an entire studio apartment on the second level of the barn, specifically for Birdie’s measurements, which I doubled to account for her current size. 

Birdie loved the freedom of running around the lawn of the land I now owned, and she hunted anything in the woodlands that surrounded our entire property. Then Birdie got to be the size of the barn which was made for her to stand at least five stories high and at least four stories wide calculating out to be seventy five feet tall by fifty five feet wide and now Birdie couldn't fit through the door and i was really beginning to have an assortment of issues on my plate the first one being Birdie’s size and the second being her food supply. 

I couldn't afford to keep buying the butcher of all his meat every day, for that’s what it took just to keep Birdie’s tummy from rumbling, and with this decrease in food, Birdie was beginning to get upset. I started early by turning my barn into a bunker, and I put up so much exterior protection that not even a bullet could penetrate its frame. I then hired a really special welder who built a chain big enough to handle the dinosaur so that Birdie can stay within the property lines, with a hefty collar. 

I knew she as not going to put this on willingly, so I had to drug her a little with a dose of Ambien, my entire three refills to be exact, and I watched the very moment she passed out. A discrete well paid crew collared her up and welded the chains into deeply grounded cement so that she would be bound to go no further than she needed to be, and by now, it was already impossible to hide Birdie. When Birdie woke up, I felt her fury from where I stood inside the barn. 

Her anger ranged out waves so high they disappeared into the depths of the sea rocking my entire house in the process, and her wails were the worst as her roar vibrated the metal around me and shook the foundation under my feet. Birdie went ballistic for five days before calming down, and I thought it was safe enough to go outside. Birdie ignored me for a while, and then I hired two sheepdogs and a farmer to produce herds of cattle for me once a week, meeting at a discreet location and going our separate ways afterward. 

Birdie thrived on the cattle, and how much I brought to her; she was enthused to listen and heed my every command, and when I reprimanded her, she understood and didn't do what I didn't want her to do again. Things were going well until Birdie kept growing, and that metal collar could not stretch past the girth she was gaining in her neck. The metal snapped, and the chain failed as Birdie realized she was free. 

She was the size of a ten-story building, and I knew that Birdie was hungry, just like she always was, and life just became her buffet. She bent down her jaw, and she roared with a might in my face to try to establish dominance over me. I planted my foot down and stood my ground until she stopped, and I reprimanded her with my tone of voice. I could see her cower even as she tried to hide it, and she turned around to face the town we were maybe two hundred miles away from. 

I tried to hide her with everything I had, and I tried to train her to be a good dinosaur, but she was just a beast after all, and now she was doing what her genes told her to do: hunt and survive. I watched Birdie race down the road, farther and farther away from me, and I wondered if I would ever see her again, alive or in person. 

Either ending would be tragic for her because capture and torture is an option, as going to a zoo is another thought as well. Whatever they were going to do with her, I felt like I was going to find out soon enough, as every news reporter in the town was going to be on this disruption which was about to happen to that ignorant town. It’s in the middle of the night, too, and I bet most of the lethargic people that are still awake are in for a rude awakening in less than two hours from now. Godspeed, Birdie, and may your life, however long it may last, be glorious and all you wanted it to be. I salute you. I love you, and I greatly miss you.