r/horrorstories

Video link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-deqWNoNqmI&list=PLh8-Yhg_l8UcV6KlSL8WhJHh3GqgV7Vt0&index=2

A new neighbor moved into the apartment across from mine.

Nice guy.

Polite.

The weird thing was he always knew what I had done that day.

Movies I'd watched.

Meals I'd cooked.

Phone calls I'd made.

Eventually I asked how.

He smiled.

"I haven't moved in yet."

I laughed awkwardly.

Then I noticed the apartment behind him was completely empty.

Resurrecting Dick Nash, a horror-fiction podcast:

A jaded lawyer, on the payroll of a nameless corporate entity, travels the backroads of modern day America on a mission to unearth a mysterious object simply called "the Package." The only clues to its whereabouts are a disjointed series of notes and records compiled by an obscure 1980's pulp fiction writer who traveled the same roads half a century ago and wrote under the pen name Dick Nash.

Available on Apple https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/resurrecting-dick-nash/id1760595725 and Spotify https://open.spotify.com/show/20d7wffFdTTw2VX0YNzfGx

My wife and I have been together since we were teenagers. We met when I was a sophomore and she was a senior. There was something exhilarating about that age difference. I felt like such a badass “cool kid” for being able to swing a date with not only a senior, but a genuinely good-looking one at that.

I used that exhilaration to my advantage. Built up my confidence. Learned from her maturity. Hell, she’s the one who taught me how to drive.

We made it through the honeymoon phase, and by some miracle of God, we prevailed when she ended up going to college while I was left behind in high school for another two years.

That’s not to say it wasn’t difficult. I learned a lot about myself in those two years. It’s kind of insane how paralyzing separation anxiety is. My insecurity grew more and more each day.

That’s probably why I asked her to marry me immediately after purchasing our first apartment. I hate saying this just because it makes me sound so creepy, but she was mine. She was the only woman I could ever see myself with. If I lost her, it was like I was losing everything.

When she agreed, it was like all of those fears and anxieties melted away. I felt so devotedly loved, and for a while, those feelings remained.

God, there’s something wrong with me. Through all the love she displayed, all the warmth she provided, I still could not shake the feeling that she was lying. She didn’t love me. She secretly hated me. She resented me more than anything. Those are the kind of thoughts that would keep me up at night while I held her in my arms as she slept peacefully.

It wasn’t long before those thoughts started creating friction between us. I could tell how tired she was of the constant need for reassurance. The pathetic insecurity that created arguments on a daily basis. Sometimes, I wonder why she even stayed. Why she put up with it for so long when, according to this fucking diary, she was so miserable.

Maybe she just thought things would get better. That I’d grow out of this childish behavior and actually show some trust for once. But then again, maybe she liked to see me hurting. Maybe she got a sick thrill out of knowing that I was so torn up about her.

And, let’s be honest, any hope for personal growth and maturity was abandoned the moment I opened this notebook.

I just don’t understand. I don’t get how she could just write these horrible things about me without so much as a second thought.

“Paranoid.”

“Possessive.”

“Obsessive.”

And the one that hurt me the most:

“Terrifying.”

Me. The kid she taught to drive. The kid who fell head over heels for her and never looked back. And here she was. Fucking scared of me.

After all the freedom I gave her. Letting her stay out till 8 PM. Letting her see her friends every month. I even went as far as to allow her a girls night at the bar last month.

It just wasn’t enough for her. She “wanted to leave,” but she was “scared.”

I couldn’t even bring myself to read past the 30th page. I simply closed the diary, took a deep breath, and let my head fall in my hands.

All my efforts. For nothing.

While I sat in distress, my train of thought was interrupted by a quivering voice from behind me.

“Honey… why are you sitting at my vanity?”

In that moment, all I could do was laugh. Laugh at the time wasted. Laugh at the money thrown down the drain. Laugh at the idea that I convinced myself that love was real.

But more than anything, I laughed at our marriage.

She wanted to leave, fine. Love is fleeting. But we made a promise to each other.

This was till death did us part.

And if she wanted to leave so bad, so be it.

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4

The road to Bell County Hospital was empty.

Claire sat beside me with both hands locked together in her lap. Barrett and Pike followed behind us in their cruiser. Their headlights kept appearing behind the curves of the mountain road, then disappearing again behind the trees.

We left the radio on between the cars, but nobody said anything.

When we reached the hospital parking lot, Dr. Lewis was already waiting outside.

His glasses were gone.

Blood ran from beneath one of his ears down into the collar of his coat.

"Jesus Christ doc, what happened to you?"

"They woke up again."

"I got that part over the phone."

He looked back toward the hospital entrance before answering.

"No chief. This time they really woke up."

He brought us inside.

The hallway outside the rooms looked destroyed.

Scratches covered the walls and floor. One of the nurses sat against the reception desk crying into both hands while another tried cleaning blood off the tiles with shaking arms.

Dr. Lewis stopped outside Danny's room.

"They won't stop talking."

I looked through the small glass window in the door.

All three of them were strapped to their beds again.

None of them moved.

But their mouths did.

Slowly.

“Sorry.” Danny.
“Sorry.” Tyler’s voice answered from the room beside his.
His mother was still praying quietly near the vending machines.

Then the others joined in.

Claire grabbed my arm hard enough to hurt.

I entered first.

That same old coin smell filled the room immediately.
Stronger than before.

Danny turned his head toward me. Slowly. Like it hurt.
His pale eyes fixed on mine.

"Jeremy." I said.
All four of them stopped at the exact same moment.

Pike cursed behind me.

Danny’s mouth trembled slightly before he spoke.
"Jeremy opened."

Tyler started crying loudly.

I stepped closer to Danny's bed.
"What does that mean?"

Nobody answered.

Their mouths slowly opened again.

"Sorry." "Sorry." "Sorry." "Sorry."

Dr. Lewis leaned closer to me.
"Chief..." he whispered. "They've been doing this for twenty minutes."

Claire pushed past me. "Where is my son?!"

For the first time since we entered the room, Danny looked away from me.
His eyes moved toward Claire.
Then toward the ceiling.
Then back to me.
And quietly, almost gently, he said: "This is sorry."

Nobody in the room spoke after that.

Not me.

Not Claire.

Not even Pike or Barrett.

Claire wiped her face with both hands and stepped closer to Danny's bed.
“What did you do to my son?”

Danny looked at her for a long time before answering.

Not confused. Not scared.

Just tired.
“We taught.”

His voice sounded weak enough to disappear between breaths.

Claire shook her head immediately.

"Danny, where is my son?” She repeated once more, calmer this time, like she was comforting a dying animal.

Danny’s pale eyes slowly moved toward me.
Then toward the ceiling again.

“We taught This.”

Pike shifted uncomfortably behind me.

“The hell does that even mean?”

Nobody answered him.

The room stayed quiet for a couple seconds before Tyler suddenly spoke from the other room.

“He was the best at it.”

His mother immediately started crying harder.
I walked out of Danny’s room and into Tyler’s.
The kid looked worse than the others now.
His face was covered in tears and dried blood.
His eyes looked swollen enough to burst.
Both of his wrists were red from fighting the restraints.

“Tyler.” I kept my voice low. “What are you talking about?”

He looked at me for a second before glancing toward the wall beside his bed.
Like he didn't want to say it out loud.

“Jeremy talked to it the most.”

Claire entered behind me.
“What does that mean?” she asked.

Tyler swallowed hard.
“At first it couldn't understand things.”

“What things?”

He looked at Claire.

Then at me.

“Us.”

The hallway outside suddenly felt very quiet, even the nurses had stopped moving.

Tyler kept talking before any of us could interrupt him.
“We tried teaching it.”

Claire stared at him like she didn't understand the words coming out of his mouth.
“Teaching it what?”

Tyler's breathing started shaking.
“How to act right. How to talk. What things meant.”

I felt my stomach tighten. “What things?”

He closed his eyes.
“Fear. Crying. Praying.” A pause. “Being lonely." A pause. “Jeremy said it was scared.”

Danny’s voice answered from the other room.

“Jeremy opened.”

Then the others repeated it again.

Not loud.

Not angry.

Just certain.

“Jeremy opened.”

I grabbed the side of Tyler’s bed hard enough to hurt my hand.
“What did he open?!"

Tyler looked terrified now.

Not of me.

Of answering.

“The way.”

Tyler kept crying quietly in the bed while Claire stood beside him completely still.

Pike leaned against the doorway with both hands over his mouth. Barrett stayed out in the hallway talking quietly with Dr. Lewis.

I sat down beside Tyler’s bed.

“How long were you talking to it?”

Tyler rubbed his eyes against his shoulder before answering.

“Since summer.”

“All summer?”

He nodded.

“At first it just listened.”

Claire finally spoke again.

“How did it answer?”

Tyler swallowed hard.

“The radio.”

That made me look up immediately.

“What radio?”

“The old one in the house.”

The abandoned house.
The whiskey bottle.
The drawings.
I suddenly understood why Jeremy kept disappearing at night.

Tyler kept staring at the ceiling while he spoke.

“We thought it was a prank at first.”

“What did?”

“The voice.”

His breathing shook again.
“It never sounded right."

Tyler looked toward me.
“Like it was trying to copy people.”
“At first it just repeated things back.” He continued. “Then it started asking things.”

"Like?”

Tyler closed his eyes tightly. “Why people drink.”

Claire looked at me for a second.

Then away.

“Why people pray if nobody answers.” Another pause.

“Why parents stop talking to their kids.”

I felt my jaw tighten.
Tyler kept going before I could say anything.

“Jeremy answered most of them.”

Claire slowly sat down beside the bed.

“He thought it was lonely,” Tyler whispered. “He said it sounded scared to be by itself.”

“What happened at Mercer Ridge?” Barrett asked.

Tyler’s entire body tensed against the restraints.

“We wanted it to see us.” He started shaking so hard the whole bed moved. “So it wouldn't be alone anymore.”

I rubbed my hand across my face.

“And Jeremy?”

Tyler’s eyes filled immediately. “He said someone had to open the way.”

Claire made a sound beside me that I hope I never hear again for the rest of my life.

I looked back toward Danny’s room.

The three men had started whispering again.
Not “sorry” this time. Something else.
The words were too quiet to understand.

But all three of them were smiling.

Dr. Lewis stepped into the hallway beside me.
“Chief,” he said quietly. “I think we should clear the floor.”

Before I could answer, every light in the hallway dimmed for half a second.

The radios crackled at the same time.

Mine.

Barrett’s.

Pike’s.

Even the one at the nurses’ station.

Static filled the hallway loud enough to make Tyler flinch in his bed.

A voice came through the radio.

Weak.

Broken.

“Dad?”

Every muscle in my body locked.

The radio crackled again.

“Mom?”

Nobody spoke. As like we were frozen in ice.

The voice came back a third time.

“Am outside.”

Claire pushed past me before I could react. I followed her into the hallway.

The nurses had already moved toward the lobby windows.

Barrett stood near the entrance with one hand resting on his holster.

The front doors of the hospital were closed.

Jeremy stood outside them.

Alive.

For a second, nothing else in the world mattered.

Not the explosion.

Not Danny.

Not the dogs or the nature.

Just my son standing in the parking lot wearing the same gray jacket he left home with two nights earlier.

Claire put both hands over her mouth.

“Oh my God.”

Jeremy looked exhausted. Pale.
His hair hung wet against his forehead and his clothes looked dirty from the woods.

But it was him... It had to be.

Claire immediately moved toward the doors.
I grabbed her arm without thinking. “Wait.”

She looked back at me like I had lost my mind.
“That’s our son Thomas! Let me go!”

I didn’t answer.

Because I didn’t know why I stopped her.

Maybe because of Mercer Ridge.

Maybe because of the whispering behind us.

Maybe because Jeremy still hadn’t blinked once.

The radios crackled again.

“Cold.”

Jeremy’s lips moved a second after the word came through the speakers.
Like the radio spoke first.
Claire pulled free from my hand and reached the doors.

“Jeremy baby, open the door!” She screamed while running towards them.

He stared at her for a long moment.

Then smiled.

Not wrong.

Not unnatural.

Just delayed.

Barrett noticed it too.

I saw it in his face.

Jeremy pressed one hand softly against the glass.

Claire did the same from inside.

For a second neither of them moved.

Then Jeremy finally spoke with his own voice instead of the radio.

Quietly.

“Found the way back.”

Behind us, all three men in Danny’s room started screaming.

Not words... Just screaming.

Claire jumped away from the doors and covered her ears.

Barrett rushed toward the rooms, while Pike froze beside the reception desk.

Jeremy didn't move.

He kept staring at us through the glass.

The lights dimmed again. This time they stayed dim.

The hospital looked gray.

Sick.

Like all the color had drained out of the building.

Jeremy slowly lifted his hand from the glass.

“Dad.”

I stepped toward the doors before I realized I was moving, making sure they stayed close.

Claire looked at me immediately.

“Thomas open the door!”

I stared at my son.

Something was wrong.

Not obvious.

Not enough to explain.

Just small things.

The way he stood too still.

The way his eyes stayed fixed on whoever spoke.

The way he smiled a second too late.

Like every expression reached him after it should have.

Or the fact that there were no emotions behind his words.

But he was alive.

I kept telling myself that.

Alive.

Jeremy touched the glass again.

“Was scared.”

Claire started crying immediately.

“Oh God.”

“Didn’t want to stay alone.”

His voice sounded calm.

Too calm.

Like he had practiced the sentences before saying them.

Behind me, Danny and the others suddenly stopped screaming all at once.

The silence hit harder than the noise did.

Jeremy looked past me toward the hallway.

Then back at me.

“They’re scaring This.”

That word again.

This.

Not me.

Not you or us.

This.

I felt my stomach drop.

Claire reached for the door handle.

“Thomas...” A pause "Please..."

He looked at her for a long moment.

Then slowly shook his head.

He knew I wouldn't open it, and he talked once more.

“They can’t see This yet.”

The lights flickered again.

This time I heard the radios whispering.

Not speaking.

Whispering.

Every voice overlapping each other quietly.

Pike backed away from the reception desk.

“What the hell is that?”

Barrett returned pale enough to look sick.

He kept rubbing at his eyes.

“The rooms are empty.” He said, collapsing to the ground, clawing at his eyes.
“I can still see it!” He kept repeating.

Pike rushed towards him, trying to stop him.

I looked back toward Jeremy. And noticed his reflection wasn’t matching him correctly.

When Jeremy blinked, the reflection didn’t.

Just for a second.

Then it matched again.

My chest tightened as Jeremy saw me notice.
His smile disappeared immediately.

Not angry.

Not sad.

Just gone.

Like he understood he made a mistake.

And suddenly I understood something too.

Not everything... Not even close... But enough.

Enough to know my son never came back from Mercer Ridge.

Claire reached for the door again.

I stopped her once more.

Jeremy pressed his hand softly against the glass one last time.

“Sorry Dad.”

The radios started screaming.

Every light in the hospital exploded at once.

Darkness swallowed the hallway.

Then, somewhere inside the dark hospital, This spoke.
Stealing a different voice for each word.

“Relive This.”

I relived.

“Tell This.”

I told.

“Warn This.”

I warned.

“Forget This.”

I forgot.

​

This is my story what im about to tell you will hopefully help you understand who i am

I'm not a strong man. or very smart. My life had been pretty rough, growing up. As a kid we moved a lot. So much so that it almost seemed pointless for my parents to put us in school.With all the moves, my grades started to suffer and at the time i blamed myself…so did my parents. I mean can you blame me? I felt alone,The time I did spend in school was spent trying to find friends, not focus on my grades. I was looking for companionship… only to move away once I found it . I didn't bother to keep looking after the 3rd move. My parents were batshit crazy, they were far from a normal mother and father. They planted us in front of a tv while they drank all day.. and night. Leaving us to our own devices. And with the drinking came the yelling..the fighting...the noise.

My young life was nothing but my parents telling me I'm a failure and that I would never amount to anything...*scoff* wonder why..., I'm sure it was to cast blame on someone other than themselves for their own failures. As a teenager my arms were full of scars from my attempts. My attempts to please them. I thought that if I just removed myself from the picture, everything would be better… Of course I wanted to do what they say you need to do, *mockingly* reach out to a trusted friend, ask for help…but i didnt have anyone

I am a movie guy, I love movies. Growing up they felt like the family that was always there for me or the friends i could bring with me. I lived my life as if it were a movie, and I'm the main character. i dressed as the main character, i talked like the main character. I was always looking for my chance to be 'the hero', but pussing out at the last minute. Most of all I was looking for love, i was waiting for that 'meet-cute' moment that you see in the movies... that moment where i reach for a book and bump hands with a cute girl, we stumble our apogies then lock eyes,and her and fall in love and live happily-ever-after. I foolishly thought, 'Life will be so easy, just don't do what they do in the movies and you'll be okay' . I really thought that.I put all my hopes and dreams on that being true to life as I grew up. Every time I watched a movie it felt like I was living that fictional life. I'd tune out of reality and just be there in the movie, living this amazing life where it's hard at first but slowly gets better. The hero realizes his true potential and gets the girl, saves the day and...As life would have it, it slowly started to dawn on me that everything is not like the movies. With no surprise, I would be crushed by adulthood. Jobs, rent, friends coming and going with each new job. This wasn't what the movies promised but Every day felt like the beginning of a sad drama. The constant repetition of waking up, taking a shower, getting dressed, and remembering to feed the bird before I leave. This life was becoming my new normal, 'is this what reality really is?' I hated it. In the movies, a guy walks into a coffee shop and sees a girl, they fall in love and live happily ever after!

Flash forward to present day, and I'm still trying to get my life together. I have my own place, my own car, a tv. I go to the same coffee shop every day, to order the same black coffee with a muffin. Just little things to provide temporary escape, temporary.. little.. pleasures. But nothing lasted longer than that last sip or last bite. I tried everything, therapy, drugs, hell even hypnosis. Anything to feel something. Nothing. My therapist recommended I get a pet or try some new activities to distract myself "get some new hobbies."

So, I tried. I went camping,and I took a class on 'the fine art of dance" . Other than acquiring new skills, nothing worked. I felt as if my life was nothing more than some sick game played at my expense. Twists and turns Leading me down a path of one bad day after the other, one more 'fuck you' added to the pile. It felt like nothing I did was enough. Some things were out of my control but most of my problems are self-inflicted. Be it hour cuts at work one day and the next my rent is over due. Nothing seemed to be going my way or... any way, other than down.

I tried keeping to myself. head low, never make eye contact, even with the cute sounding cashier at the coffee shop. no I had no friends, most of my family was dead or dead to me. The only company I kept was the parrot I bought at my therapist's advice.

The bird. Jinx, he keeps me company, 'someone to talk to'. He likes to pick up small things he hears on the tv or something i say while I am on the phone, reminding me that I order a large pizza for myself. Jinx: "One large pizza please!." One night I stubbed my toe and screamed some rather.. adult language, only to have him repeat said things the next day in front of the girl scout at my door. But he's company non-the-less.

My days…they had gotten so repetitive, I had lost hope in everything But.. that day felt different. I felt like something was telling me to feel happy. I was happy, not really ‘happy’ but not the sad schmuck I had been; and I didn't know why. Everything was the same, I woke up, took a shower, got dressed, fed the bird and While I was doing all this I couldn't help but notice that the day seemed brighter, I wondered ‘did i get that good of sleep last night?’ and I didn't feel the need to stare at the ground. My head was up..not hiding away from people like i normally do. Something in me told me it was okay to look up, even in the rain. Everyone I passed by gave me that half assed smile you give to strangers, I returned them before because something in me didn't care. That day, with every smile I gave back was genuine. I felt happy and didn't know why.. as I was waiting in line I did start to get a little anxious, "why is everything so 'bright'?" "Why do I feel like this?" I got to the front of the line, to order my coffee, only this time.

I locked eyes with her.

Her smile was the kind of smile that made you feel happy, made you feel like it was meant only for you. Her eyes, when they looked at you, you could feel her looking back at you. You feel like you are being seen and that you matter.

For the first time in a long time, I felt something. When she spoke, for the first time I saw the face that belonged to the voice. When she asked if I wanted the usual. Whatever came out of my mouth made her giggle and she got started on my order. My heart was beating out of my chest…As I watched her make my order.. the idea of asking her out popped into my head. I thought to myself. She's amazing, she's beautiful, she's kind, she's a good person and most importantly she made me feel something. She made me feel like I mattered in that moment…

She returned with my coffee and muffin and as she set them on the counter and started ringing up my order.. I thought to myself “this is my moment” so i worked up the courage and asked her out to a cup of coffee. She giggled as I shot my head to the ground after I realized I had just asked a coffee barista out to get coffee. I knew she was the one when she said yes.

We've been dating for almost a year now, we used to go out to dinners, we would only get the best meals for.. her, because she deserved it. It was my first relationship so I might have been overdoing it at first but she means so much to me. Like every couple we had our ups and downs,and in between i even started to plan a trip. it got so bad at one point i even offered to get us separate beds; in separate rooms. She didn't like that idea. Every night was the same, get home from work, fight, eat, kiss her goodbye, bed. She started to lose hope in us ever getting better but I still wanted the relationship to work. There was talk of her needing space...she wanted to run away and stay with some friends but...you have to understand..She means so much to me.

Now obviously when you get something you haven't had all your life, you want to keep it. You want to protect it, So, I tried.

I don't think she knew how much she meant to me. She didn't know it wouldn't have worked out the way she wanted. She just assumed that things between us weren't perfect. Yeah I made mistakes but she made some too! That's normal, right? The only difference is that she judged me for my mistakes. She made me feel again and just when I started to feel like things were getting better.. she... look.. while rocky at times,I still felt like others in their relationships were nothing compared to us. They have their smiles on their faces but then you hear them argue all night long. but us, we..we were different we were SUPPOSED to be together. It might have just been the heat of the moment but I felt as if She was turning into everyone in my life that called me nothing. She said things, things that only she would know to hurt me.

Even though I was hurt I still tried pleading with her saying we can make it work but she wouldn't hear me. She just kept talking. Over me. She showed me so many new emotions, she showed me I wasn't worthless. She told me she LOVED me!

But she wouldn't listen

So I couldn't let her go.

I couldn't let the US go.

I knew sometimes after we fought we would sit down and eat. I was prepared, I was ready..I wanted to make dinner special. I made her favorite food, baked salmon-with french fries. Not very gourmet, but it was her favorite. I thought to myself, "surely she would appreciate this" Because only I knew that it was her favorite. so.... I had a plan.

It took awhile but I had finally found a way to save.. us. While things had been..not too bad, in my opinion, I needed to show her how much I loved her. I brought out the food and placed it in front of her expecting to see a joyful smile..nothing.we ate and she couldn't help but notice me staring at her every time she took a bite. So I tried asking about her day. Completely forgetting we just had a fight. She looked at me and for a moment I felt as if she was looking completely through me. I knew after the first sip of her drink, it was only a matter of time. She started to bring up something from our fight but all i could do was stare at her. and... Eventually her words started to slur and.. her head started to droop.

She wasn't scared. She smiled! It was the first time I had seen that smile in awhile... and it reminded me why I needed to fight for this relationship.

Unfortunately, I'm no doctor, I didn't know how much was too much and how much was too little so.. I started off with what I thought was a small amount, I knew it wouldn't hurt her but it did have more of an effect than i thought, i was only trying to get her into a mindset to listen to me. I just.. wanted t-to get my side of things out to her but.. it was too much... I'd have to lower the amount for the next night. She was too far gone that first night. Eventually she started to get tired so I carried her to her bed to let her sleep it off. After I put her in the bed, I couldn't help but stare at her. She opened her eyes. I felt her eyes looking into mine and for the first time in a while she smiled at me. She was happy..until her eyes rolled into the back of her...and her beautiful face went blank.

That night was a scary one for sure, but we made it through. We don't fight as much! After that night she listens, and she finally decided to move in. My life finally started to feel like it was supposed to. Yeah there were some extra steps in my daily routine but for her i would do anything.

My routine now is more or less the same, wake up, shower, get dressed, only now I make my own coffee and I buy a bag of muffins every week. Not as good as when she made it but... The coffee smell helps fill the house with a good smell, toasting the muffins helps too. Making my own coffee, making sure air fresheners are full and occasionally some bug repellent spayed in her room. It...is the stuff that i dont mind doing but.. is a big cause of our fights nowadays if I forget.

We have been living together for a few months, a couple times i forgot to fill an air freshener or i didnt want a muffin only to come home to the smell of burnt coffee and..look

I love Elizabeth....more than anything..but..i couldn't take her to the hospital that night...even when her body started to spasm.. if i went to the hospital they would have known it was me that gave her the drug and.. Then they would’ve taken her. From me.

I couldn't let that happen... them taking her. That's not how my story is supposed to end.I couldn't let them change my story! Change my happy ending!? No...I couldn't let them take the only thing that made me feel anything...but it has been a few months...she doesnt look like she used to...despite my best efforts to stave off the decomposition.

I love her. And no matter what..I will always love her. In the beginning we fought but now...She was worried that things between us wouldn't work. She.. never listened to me when i would tell her 'things will work out'..but now! We have never been happier. I tell her that I will always take care of her. That I will always love her....so..I WILL take care of her. And I will love her.. forever..now we can be together. Forever.

[Jinx ] forever!

I awoke suddenly, confused and groggy. My wife had shaken me awake. "Babe, what's wrong?" I ask.

"Honey, there's someone at the door. I keep hearing knocks."

Upon hearing the knocking myself, I storm to our front door, frustrated. I glanced concerningly into my daughter's room, ensuring her safety before proceeding to the door.

I peered through the peephole and froze. There, a little boy stood. Feeling my presence, he spoke softly:

"Please help me sir. I'm lost and I can't find my parents. I'm cold."

I sighed, thinking from an empathetic lens from having a kid of my own. I opened the door slowly, its creak echoing into the night.

As soon as the door had been opened, however, the kid yelled "You can't catch me!" and darted off into the darkness.

Almost by impulse, I lunged after him, sprinting hard to catch up. Unfortunately for the small boy, I caught him within a hundred feet and spear tackled him to the ground.

Out of breath and seething with anger, I wrapped my hands around his neck and yelled at him, asking why he was disturbing me and my family at this time of night.

The boy paused, before responding with a giggle:

"My Uncles said they'd get me ice cream if I got you far away from the house."

"Sorry about your family, mister. But thank you for the ice cream."

I matched with Lexie on Tinder two weeks before Valentine’s Day.

She wasn’t my usual type, which is probably why I kept talking to her. She was too still. Too composed. Most people on those apps feel like they’re selling you a version of themselves. Lexie didn’t. She spoke like someone who already knew how things were going to end.

She never flirted much. She didn’t need to. She had this way of asking questions that made you feel like answering was your idea. Not normal first-date questions either. She wanted to know what kind of fear stays with a person. Whether I thought some people were born marked. Whether I believed evil could pass from one life into another just by being let in.

I should have unmatched her right there.

Instead, I kept replying.

That’s the part that keeps bothering me now. It wasn’t just that I liked her. It was that she made me feel chosen. Like out of everyone she could have spoken to, she had settled on me for a reason. At the time, that felt intimate. Now I think that was the first lie.

By Valentine’s Day, she said she didn’t want dinner or drinks. She wanted something meaningful. That was the word she used. Meaningful. She sent me an address outside the city and said if I trusted her, I’d come.

It was an abandoned hotel.

Even in the parking lot, it felt wrong. The building looked hollowed out, like something had eaten the life out of it years ago and left the shell standing. The sign had collapsed. Half the windows were black or broken. There was no sound anywhere. No traffic. No wind. Just this dead building waiting in the dark.

Lexie was already there.

She was standing under the awning without a coat on, like the cold didn’t touch her. She smiled when she saw me, but it wasn’t relief. It looked more like recognition. Like I had arrived exactly the way I was supposed to.

I asked if she’d been there before.

She said, “A few times.”

Nothing about her voice changed when she said it, but something in me did. I remember wanting to leave then. Not dramatically. Just a quiet, immediate instinct telling me to get back in my car and never speak to her again.

I went inside anyway.

That’s what I can’t forgive in myself. Every bad thing that happened that night announced itself early, and I still walked toward it because she made danger sound intimate.

Inside, the hotel was freezing in a way I’ve never felt before or since. Not winter cold. Not broken-building cold. It felt inhabited. Like the dark itself had a temperature.

Our footsteps echoed down a long hallway lined with torn wallpaper and doors hanging half open. The whole place smelled damp and rotten, like wet wood and something older underneath it. She led me into a large room at the end of the corridor that might have once held weddings or parties.

Candles were arranged in a circle on the floor.

Already lit.

That was the moment everything shifted for me. Not because I suddenly believed in any ritual she was talking about, but because I understood she had prepared this. This wasn’t some eccentric idea she’d come up with on the drive over. She had brought me there to do exactly this.

She handed me a piece of paper and a pen.

“Write your biggest fear,” she said.

I laughed, mostly because I was uncomfortable. “Seriously?”

She didn’t smile. She just watched me.

There was something in her expression I didn’t recognize until much later. It wasn’t excitement. It wasn’t nerves. It was concentration. The look of someone waiting for a lock to turn.

I should have left the paper on the floor and walked out.

Instead, I wrote.

I’m not going to say what I wrote. It was real. More real than I wanted to be with someone I barely knew. Maybe that mattered. Maybe that was part of it. Maybe whatever happened needed something honest to take hold.

When I finished, she held out a lighter.

“Burn it,” she said.

The second the flame touched the paper, the room changed.

Not in some vague dramatic way. I mean something physical happened. The air seemed to tighten. Every candle around us bent at once, their flames dragged sideways as if something had just moved through the circle with us. The temperature dropped so fast my eyes watered.

And Lexie stopped pretending.

Her face went empty. Not emotionless—relieved.

She looked past me, toward the hallway, and whispered:

“He’s here.”

I turned around.

At first I saw nothing. Just the dark doorway and the corridor beyond it.

Then I felt it.

That’s the closest I can get to explaining it. Before I saw anything, I felt that someone had entered the room and was standing just outside the reach of the candlelight. The kind of certainty that bypasses logic completely. The body knows before the mind does.

I asked her who she meant.

She kept staring into the hallway.

Then she said, very softly, “He’s been following me since I was fifteen.”

I remember saying, “What the fuck are you talking about?”

She looked at me then, and I understood something that still makes me sick to think about.

She wasn’t frightened.

She was sorry.

Not sorry enough to stop. Just sorry enough to look human while she did it.

“He only leaves,” she said, “when he’s given someone new.”

Then every candle went out.

All of them. At once.

The room went black so suddenly it felt like being buried.

And from the hallway, I heard movement.

Not fast. Not frantic. Something slower than footsteps. A dragging, patient sound, like whatever was out there had all the time in the world because it already knew where I was going.

I ran.

I don’t remember deciding to. My body just did it. I bolted through the dark, hit the doorway with my shoulder, stumbled into the hall, nearly fell on the broken tile, and kept going. I could hear something behind me—not chasing, exactly. Following. Like it didn’t need to hurry because the hard part was already done.

Lexie never ran after me.

That’s the detail that rots in my head the most.

She didn’t scream. Didn’t try to stop me. Didn’t even call my name until I was almost out of the building, and even then it sounded weak, distant, formal. Like the part she needed from me had already been completed.

I made it to my car shaking so hard I could barely get the key in. I locked the doors and drove without looking in the mirrors.

Ten minutes later, my phone lit up.

A text from Lexie.

Three words.

**I’m sorry now.**

Not “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry now.”

Like she hadn’t been before.

Like she could afford to be after.

I called her immediately. No answer. I texted. Nothing. By morning her Tinder profile was gone. By that afternoon, her number was dead.

For one full day, I told myself she was insane. That she had staged the whole thing to terrify me. That the cold, the candles, the hallway—my brain had done the rest.

Then I woke up at 3:07 a.m. and saw someone standing in the corner of my room.

Not a shadow. Not sleep paralysis. I know the difference. I was awake enough to move, to sit up, to reach for the lamp.

It was standing between the closet and the wall, tall enough that its head seemed wrong for the height of the ceiling. I couldn’t make out a face. That was worse somehow. It was just a darker piece of darkness shaped like a person, completely still, like it had been watching me sleep for hours.

When I turned the lamp on, it was gone.

The next night it was back.

Then the next.

Always the same corner. Always that same feeling waking me first—the certainty that I’m no longer alone. Sometimes it’s farther back. Sometimes closer. Two nights ago, I swear it was at the foot of my bed.

The room gets cold before I see it. Not all of it. Just one side. Just the corner it chooses.

I’ve started dreading sunset.

I’ve stopped sleeping for more than an hour or two at a time. Every sound in the apartment feels deliberate now. I keep checking the hallway outside my bedroom like I expect to find someone standing there, waiting for me to look directly at them.

Yesterday I made a new Tinder account because part of me needed to know whether Lexie had deleted hers or just disappeared from mine.

I found her in less than an hour.

Same face. Same calm smile. Different pictures.

Still active.

Still matching.

One of her prompts said she wanted a Valentine’s date that felt unforgettable.

That’s when I understood what I had been to her.

Not a connection. Not a mistake. Not collateral damage.

A handoff.

Something had attached itself to her when she was fifteen, and she had learned the only way to survive it was to make someone trust her enough to open the door from the inside.

That’s the part that really stays with me. Not the figure in the corner. Not the hotel. Not even what I heard in the hallway.

It’s the way she looked at me before the candles went out.

Like I was already gone.

Like she had done this in her head a hundred times before I ever arrived.

I don’t think she chose me because I was unlucky.

I think she chose me because I listened.

Because I answered.

Because I mistook being studied for being understood.

So if any of this sounds familiar—if you meet someone who speaks too calmly about fate, who asks what scares you before they ask what you do for work, who wants to do something “meaningful” somewhere isolated for Valentine’s Day—leave.

Because the worst part of this story isn’t that something followed her home.

It’s that she knew exactly how to make sure it followed me instead.

The migraines started three months ago.
At first they felt normal.
Pain behind the eyes.
Sensitivity to light.
Exhaustion.
Nothing unusual.
The doctor called them stress-related.
I believed him.
Then the messages started.
The first one appeared at 3:17 AM.
I don’t remember waking up.
I only remember finding my phone in my hand.
One unread message.
From an unknown number.
You forgot to finish the report.
I should have been scared.
Instead, I was confused.
Because I had forgotten.
The report was due the next morning.
I finished it.
The migraine disappeared.
For a while.

The next message came two nights later.
Your friend is lying to you.
It included screenshots.
Private messages.
Things nobody should have been able to access.
Things that turned out to be real.
The friendship ended.
The migraine disappeared again.

Soon I started waiting for the messages.
They were useful.
Helpful.
Efficient.
Whenever one arrived, the pain eased.
Whenever I ignored one, the migraine became unbearable.
So I listened.

The messages solved problems.
Finished projects.
Found missing documents.
Warned me about mistakes.
Saved me time.
Saved me money.
Saved me embarrassment.
It felt like something was helping me.

Then the tone changed.

Your sister doesn’t respect you.
Your coworkers talk about you.
Your father hides things from you.
Your friends only tolerate you.

The evidence always looked convincing.
Screenshots.
Audio recordings.
Fragments of conversations.
Enough to make me doubt.
Never enough to prove anything.

One by one, people disappeared from my life.
Arguments.
Accusations.
Distance.
Silence.
The migraines became rarer.
The messages became longer.

Last week I asked a question.
The first question.

Who are you?

The answer arrived instantly.

The reason you let me in.

I didn’t sleep that night.
Or maybe I did.
I can’t tell anymore.

Yesterday I found unfinished work on my computer.
Perfectly written.
Submitted.
Sent.
Hours before I woke up.
The timestamps prove it.
I checked three times.

This morning I received another message.
Not on my phone.
On my laptop.

Everyone thinks you’re getting worse.

A second message appeared.

They’re discussing you right now.

A third.

Open the camera.

I did.
I wish I hadn’t.

The camera showed my room.
My desk.
My chair.
Me.
Sleeping.

The timestamp said it was live.

My migraine is gone now.
Completely gone.
I haven’t felt pain in days.
That’s the problem.
Because tonight, at 3:17 AM…
I received one final message.

You don’t need the migraines anymore.
You trust me now.

And for the first time…
the message wasn’t sent to me.
It was sent from my phone.

The Shadow Always Returns. 🖤💀

Yeah, yeah, go ahead and laugh. I know. I know that this is a great way for someone to destroy their own life if they’re not careful. I’m trying my best to not go that route.

And besides, it’s not like I’m showing ass on main. I’m not out here exploiting myself to get a few bucks from some creep jerking off alone in his bathroom while his wife and three kids sleep peacefully.

I’m not even nude…most of the time. And, if I’m being honest, a lot of my subscribers probably go above and beyond what would be considered the norm for your average sicko. These people are depraved in every sense of the word.

As fate would have it, these are some of the highest-paying people I’ve ever had the displeasure of putting on shows for. I mean, seriously. I’m making more money than I’ve ever made in my entire life.

And you wanna know why? It’s because I’m unique. I knew that if I was going to go this route, I was gonna have to go all in. No half measures. And that’s a hard thing to do in such a saturated field.

I guess I do have a bit of an unfair advantage, though. And no, it’s not a third leg. Couldn’t be THAT lucky.

No, my advantage goes beyond the usual thirst traps all over social media these days.

I was born with a one-of-a-kind condition….

I regrow appendages. Fingers, toes, ….other things…you name it, I regrow it.

It started off as a party trick. I’d just cut straight through my pinky while onlookers watched in disgust. They’d see me at school a few days later with all five fingers, and the looks on their faces? Priceless.

Pretty quickly, it became evident that this trick was enough to draw a crowd. It helped with my popularity so much that I started thanking God every night for blessing me with such a gift.

Popularity doesn’t always pay the bills, though. After high school, all I became was just some weirdo who could cut a finger off.

I got to thinking, though, “Hey…if people will pay to watch a puppy get stepped on, then there’s gotta be a market for this somewhere.”

And there you have it. There’s your origin story. It was downhill from the very first video, which, if I’m being honest, was ironically unexpected after that first upload only got a handful of views.

Even so, from those 400 viewers, 10 of them tipped me in the triple digits. EACH. I mean, come on. I’m a slut for validation.

Anyway, it started, of course, with just fingers. Sawing through flesh and bone while some psycho watched from what I’d assume is probably some dark shed somewhere while eating pistachios or whatever other snack evil has to offer.

Wasn’t long till the people demanded more, though. Toes. Ears. Other things…. And like the good little boy I am, of course I obliged. My freaking rent was getting paid, dude. Are you kidding me? Bah humbug.

I had to draw the line somewhere between my ankle and thigh, though. I was lucky when the foot grew back the first time. I should’ve never gone past that ankle. But some dude named “xxbig\_dick\_danny69” paid me 750 to saw through my calf. I guess that was the limit because I’m still waddling around on this fuckin’ peg leg.

But hey, I still got another one.

And from what I’ve learned…

Amputee is another high-paying genre.

I do a little bit of everything as one of the two employees at The Mitten Motel. If a guest disappears from their room without a trace, I'm responsible for gathering their belongings and burning or burying them. If one of the doors locks and the shrieking of the damned can be heard on the other side, I'm the one who hangs up the 'Under repair' sign. The only other worker here is my boss Dale. He's a grizzled old man who looks old enough that I wouldn't be surprised if is name was right along side our Founding Fathers on the Declaration of Independence.

Frankly, I have no idea how this place stays in business or how people even find it. The motel sits in the dense forests in the northern part of the lower peninsula. Anyone driving past at any speed greater than 25mph would notice the dense tree line momentarily opens up to the parking lot before vanishing again. It is very much a blink and you miss it sort of turn.

I only happened to stumble onto the place after being kicked out of my parents house, which is a long story that I won't share now to keep this short. Anyway, I had been walking down a dirt road, my backpack full of what little possessions I had. The last car passed me hours ago. Their only response to my raised thumb was to flip me the bird, the even stuck it out the window as they passed to make sure I had received the message.

I was about to sit down to rest my shaky legs when I saw a break in the tree line further up the road. I was hoping it was a diner so I could fill my growling stomach. Instead I was met with a single level motel with ten rooms. The bright red doors clashed with the puke green paint that was peeling from the building’s brick exterior. A large window faced out towards the road and I noticed there were only two cars in the parking lot.

I staggered my way through the front door hoping to find a snack machine to spend my last bit of pocket change on. A bell hanging from the door frame rang as I entered the area marked as the check-in office. My soon to be supervisor, Dale, glanced up at me from behind a computer that came fresh out of the early 2000’s. The room was pretty much just a glass box, with each wall (except the one behind Dale) being made up of large window pane. The room smelled like someone had just poorly cleaned up a dead body, making the air heavy with the scent of chemicals and death. The smell alone made me forget about the hunger I was feeling.

I noticed there was a help wanted sign sitting right on the front desk. I looked to the two cars outside and thought this may not be a bad place to work until I have the money to be on my way again. It doesn't seem like they are that busy so it would be some easy cash. I hoped that they would even let me stay in one of the motel rooms while I worked here.

Dale's eyes slipped back to the screen in front of him as his gruff voice cut through the silence between us. “What do you want?”

I frowned a little at his tone and walked up to the desk, “I'm looking for a job” I gesture to the sign, "I see you are hiring-"

“No you don’t.” Dale cut me off and reaching up to turn the sign around as if I'd forget what it said. He didn't even bother to look up at me as he continued whatever he was doing. I tried to peek at his screen but I couldn’t get a good enough angle.

“Yes I do. I’ve worked in the service industry before–”

“No. You. Don’t.” Dale simply stated again. Even though the credentials that were about to spill from my lips were false, his rejection made me even more determined to get the job.

I leaned over the desk and closer to him, trying to burn a hole through his head with my eyes. “Okay, tell me how you know I don’t want the job.”

Dale’s eyes drifted to my face lazily. I tried to read his expression, as I’m sure he was trying to read mine. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get a read on his emotions. He was like a blank canvas. The silence between us hung heavily on my mind, as if trying to suck more words from my mouth, more arguments, more urging, more pleading. But I bit my tongue and forced myself to continue the staring contest with Dale.

“Alright.” He let out a deep sigh. I could tell he wasn’t convinced, but I was willing to prove myself to him. He waved me over to the other side of the desk. I rounded the corner, just in time to see him minimize a paused game of Galaga. He pulled up an employee form and printed it out. A printer under his desk sprung to life as he pulled out a key from one of the drawers. “While you work here you can live in room number 6…” He dropped the key into my hand, “And this is the form you need to fill out for your employment.” He picked up the warm print and handed it to me. “If you can last the night and return this to me by morning, you’re hired.”

My heart almost burst with excitement as I looked at the key in my hand. This job is already shaping up to be everything I had hoped it would be.

When I finally registered his words I looked at him perplexed, “last the night? What do you mean?” Dale didn’t even smile back as he looked up at me. Again, silence hung between us before Dale turned back to his computer, his chair squeaking in protest. I stood there another minute in silence with him just staring at his screen before I realized he wouldn't answer my question.

I shuffled a bit awkwardly, “O…Okay, I-I’ll see you in the morning.” I chuckled, more to relieve nerves than anything else. Wordlessly, I turned and walked out of the door. Dale must have turned the volume on the computer back on, because under the tone of the door bell I heard the distinct sounds of Galaga.

The room itself wasn’t anything special. Like every motel it had two beds, a bathroom, a closet, and a tv sitting on top of a dresser. I didn’t have much besides the clothes on my back so that dresser wasn’t going to get used anytime soon. I was also pleasantly surprised not to find any bed bugs hiding anywhere.

The rest of the day was pretty mundane. I filled out the form Dale had given me and walked around, finally finding a vending machine where I got snacks to fill my belly. For the rest of the day I flicked through the channels to find my favorites, and mindlessly scrolled through my phone.

A while later I was ripped away from scrolling when loud bangs shook my door. I quickly sat up, nearly jumping out of my skin, my eyes flying to the door. I sat in silence waiting for whoever knocked to do it again. The slamming came again but on another door further down the row of rooms, followed by feet running past my door and the hushed giggles of children. 'Fucking kids', I thought to myself as I laid back down and pulled out my phone. 

The banging came again sending my phone flying into the air. It clattered to the ground somewhere but I didn't know where it landed as my attention shot back to the door. However, as I waited to hear the giggling and running again, a realization slowly pushed its way into my mind. My hands became clammy and my throat dried up, as I peeled my eyes away from my front door, and turned to look at my bathroom door. 'I had to have heard that wrong…Right?' I though to myself, my vision swimming a bit as I felt my fight or flight starting to take over. The logical thoughts were starting to be smothered by the fear that someone was possibly in my room. I didn’t trust my balance enough to pick up my feet, so instead I shuffled towards the bathroom door. I reached out, my small amount of logical thinking I had left berated me for my irrational fear. It told me that I was crazy. There was no way into this bathroom other than the door that was now right in front of me. But my illogical side told me that what I heard must have been true, and it was much, much louder than my logical side. 

My hand wrapped around the door knob. I could feel my muscles tensing as if trying to stop me from making any movements to turn it. My body seemed to know that whatever was on the other side was dangerous, it didn’t want me to open it. At this point, both the illogical and logical parts of my brain were in a harmonious cry to find out what was in the bathroom. One wanted to prove there was nothing to fear, and the other wanted to prove there was. 

My body and mind were in tug of war, as I began to force the knob to turn. I couldn't even get the door unlatched before I was sent diving backwards from a single, loud bang on from the other side. I had felt the handle shudder in my hand so there was no mistaking where the slam came from this time. The certainty of someone or something being behind all too thin slab of wood, silenced my thoughts. I just waited for it to burst into splinters as whatever was in the bathroom launched its attack. However, I was only met with silence.

All I could hear was the pounding of my heart and my heavy breathing. I hadn't noticed I had been backing up slowly until I bumped into the wall behind me. When I turned to glance back at the wall that caused the sudden jolt, all hell broke loose.

Pounding started at my front door again, much louder than before. My eyes darted to it, watching it quiver in its frame from every blow. I could hear the children's laughter again. It was so loud it starting to drown out the banging on the door. It sounded like they were standing in the room with me each holding a megaphone that they screamed and laughed into. Then the pounding slowly moved from the door to the left wall, then vibrated the wall behind me. It started to circle around my room getting faster and faster, louder and louder. The noise from the children seemed to grow as well. All I could do was tightly push my hands against my ears but even that did little to muffle the noise. I closed my eyes and tried to scream, but I couldn’t hear it over cacophony of sound.

Then suddenly, it stopped. Like someone had just pressed pause on a movie. All at once the sounds disappeared.

I must have curled up into a ball at some point, because when I finally dared to open my eyes, I was looking up at the now open bathroom door. It was empty just like the rest of the room. Nothing seemed out of place. I would have thought it was all in my head if it weren’t for the blood dripping from my ringing ears and my shredded vocal cords.

The rest of my sleepless night was spent sitting in the corner of the room. I didn’t even bother to wash the blood off my hands because I didn’t trust that bathroom anymore. The sun must have been up for a few hours before I finally trusted that I could open the front door without being attacked by demon children

Despite the night's events I was still desperate for a job and a place to stay, so the first thing I did was walk into that check-in office and hand Dale the form. I felt some pride when the first bit of emotion he showed me was surprise. His face quickly slipped back into its usual blank look as I handed him the form. He took it without even glancing at the bloody hand print I had left behind.

He dug around his drawer again after setting the paper down on his desk. pulling out another key. He handed it to me, “this is your employee key. It gives you access to everything you will need while working here. Don’t lose it. You will start after you get yourself cleaned up.”

I was able to negotiate getting another room which. eventually, Dale relented and handed me another key for Room 9. "I stay in Room 10. You can stay in Room 9. You should run into anything as...hostile as what is in Room 6." I sighed a bit in relief and left the check-in area with an ignored 'thank you.'

Room 9 has been much more mellow than what I experienced my first night at The Mitten Motel. Dale can be a big softy when you get to know him. He just hides it very...very deep down. He eventually explained to me that Room 6 acts as a hazing ritual or test for any new employees that come to work at the motel. Which after what I've experienced here isn't as cruel as I initially though. Like a lot of other things Dale does, I put it more in the realm of 'tough love.'

I have many more stories to tell about this place that I would love to share with the world. Maybe it will help me process my trauma a bit...let me know if you are interested in hearing more!

Yesterday I woke up covered in cold sweat under the covers. I had a strong feeling that something was wrong with my body; it didn’t really hurt, but there was a kind of itch beneath the skin—as if my very skeleton wanted to crawl out. It was the middle of the night, and I turned on the lamp at the head of the bed. I threw off the covers and stared down at my body as if to find what was wrong. And then I saw it. It wasn’t my foot at the bottom of my leg.

The toes were knobby, and the nails were short and wide. I stared down at it and blinked several times, thinking maybe I hadn’t fully woken up. But the foot was still there. The heel was narrower than my left foot, too. They were two completely different feet.

It sounds crazy, but I hadn’t taken any drugs and wasn’t experiencing a psychotic episode. But it was a different right foot. I didn’t dare touch it; I just stared down and noticed a narrow, red line where the foot joined the leg. It was almost invisible, but there was a band separating my own skin from the skin of this stranger.

I ate almost nothing that day, but drank lots of coffee and stayed indoors. I called in sick to work and blamed it on a stomach bug. Mostly, I just didn’t feel like leaving the apartment. The same burning itch rumbled beneath my skin and made me anxious. I tried to ignore the foot, but sometimes I caught myself sitting there staring down at it—disgusting and odd, a completely different person’s foot on my body. I have no friends, and my family lives many miles away; mostly I hang out with my gaming buddies on my Xbox. But I can’t exactly bring up with them that someone—or something—replaced one of my body parts last night. They’d think I had lost my mind.

For a brief moment, I considered calling the police, but I didn’t. I don’t want to be hospitalized and drug-tested for a full day. Apart from beer, I haven’t taken any substances in at least a year.

Of course, I’ve been feeling like crap, and I’ve Googled the phenomenon a lot, but I can’t find a thing. There was this stuff with black-and-white photos of stumps and stories of people spontaneously catching fire and leaving only their right leg behind. But other than that, I found nothing.

When I was going to sleep last night, I thought I heard a strange thumping in the walls, especially in the apartment above. There was a strange, shuffling sound up there. An old man lives up there, but I’ve only ever seen him once down by the mailboxes. He seems harmless—downright dying, even. We nodded hello to each other, and I haven’t seen him since. Light was streaming in from the streetlamps through my crappy curtains. I felt like I was being watched and I live on the first floor, so I got up and put up some privacy with newspaper and duct tape. To block out the strange noises, I put on a pair of headphones and turned on Rammstein. The night sucked; I woke up in the dark with panic attacks several times but always managed to fall back asleep.

Today I woke up in the dawn light, and when I sat up in bed, I saw the feet on the hardwood floor.

The feet were now the same.

But neither of the feet were mine.

Both feet were like yesterday’s left foot—the knuckles were thicker than mine, and my usually elongated nails were now short, just a few centimeters long, and square. The heels were dry and cracked. These were another person’s feet. They probably weren’t even my shoe size. They looked much bigger. Rough.

What the hell was I supposed to do? I called the health clinic and had an awkward conversation with an underpaid nurse who asked me to come in. Toward the end of the call, she sounded strained, almost stressed. I didn’t want to pull my own socks over these disgusting, unfamiliar feet, and the shoes wouldn’t fit anyway. I’d have to walk barefoot to the doctor. They’d think I was crazy. In a panic, I pulled newspaper and plastic bags over my feet and taped them with more duct tape, and then I walked all the way to the health center. I couldn’t take the bus and risk running into someone I knew. My whole body felt sick, and I was close to throwing up from nervousness when I met the doctor, a young guy with blond hair whom I could tell from a distance that his parents were rich.

I pointed to my toenails, to the hair follicles on my toes, and to the red lines where my feet were attached to my legs. He was silent for a long time before saying he didn’t see anything wrong.

“They’re perfectly normal feet. And the marks are from the tops of your socks.”

I’m home now and don’t dare fall asleep.

I don’t know what will happen tonight, which part they’ll replace. I’ve blocked the front door with a dresser and taped more newspaper over the windowpane with duct tape. Tomorrow I might not even be able to write anymore. My hands might belong to someone else, and I won’t be able to control them.

Who knows what I’ll do.

We used to live in a house that was around 80 years old. Every now and then I would hear knocking sounds or footsteps, but nothing too unusual.

One morning, I woke up at around 10 a.m. I stayed in bed for another 10–20 minutes before finally getting up and opening my bedroom door. Before I did, I loudly called out, “Good morning!”

Before anyone answered, I heard my father and his wife walking around upstairs. I could hear them laughing and hear my father talking. A few seconds later, my father shouted “Good morning!” back down to me.

After that, I went into my grandmother’s room. This might be important to mention…(my grandmother had suffered a brain hemorrhage years earlier and could barely walk, she couldn’t take any stairs anymore so she for sure wasn’t upstairs under those circumstances). I asked her if she needed anything because I was planning to go shopping.

She looked at me and said that my father and his wife had left for the city over an hour ago to go shopping, and that I should call them if I needed anything.

Confused, I picked up my phone and called my father. They weren’t home.

So who… or what… had wished me good morning?

About 30 minutes later, they came back home. I asked both my father and his wife if either of them had shouted “good morning” to me earlier, but they both told me they had already left the house around 9 a.m.

So what exactly was it that answered me that morning?

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

Her breath was the only thing I could hear.
I kneeled to the ground as reality hit me like a truck.

Whatever came back from Mercer Ridge had gotten inside my life somehow.

Maybe it had been there longer than I realized.

They hurt people I promised to protect, killed pets and nature, spread fear like a plague.
And worst of it all, they did something to my son.

"Claire... listen" I paused "Head to the station, I'll arrive as soon as I can. And I promise to tell you everything about Jeremy."

"Jeremy?! What do y--"

I hung up, her voice would have broken me down completely, and I still had a promise to fulfill to Greyhaven.

I walked back into that rotting house and climbed the stairs once more.
Each step felt heavier than the one before.

"You found something?" I asked the boys.
"Yeah, come to the bedroom. " Barrett said.

I entered the room and found countless empty soda cans and cigarette butts, that were more dust than anything else.
At the center of the room, where the wood still remembered the shape of an old bed, five chairs were placed in a circle, facing each other.

The chairs had dust and cobwebs all over them, but none on the seat.

A sixth chair stood lonely in a corner, this one was completely covered in dust.

Between the five chairs there were books of all kinds, going from kids' tales to sacred scriptures of every religion.
Beside the books there were pictures, drawings and toys.

"What the hell is this?! What were they doing here?!" Pike had lost his mind, I saw him run into a burning house to save a cat once. But this room... broke him.

"Pike, compose yourself, we can't lose ourselves. This badge represents all the people of this town. If we show fear, they will lose hope." Barrett told him, calmly.

"I have no idea what this is, Pike. I won't lie, I hoped we would've found drugs." I took a deep breath and again I hid my shaking hand in my pocket.
"Let's take some pictures and ask Melanie to print them while we head back to the station."

My wife's car was parked just beside Harris' truck.
We got out of ours and headed in.

"Hey Mel. Did you print those photos we sent?" Barrett asked.
"Yeah, I put them just by the projector, where the hell did you go?"
"Don't ask, we have no idea."

"Oh one more thing chief, Warren has been sending pictures of Mercer Ridge all day. Do you want me to print those too?"
"No we're good for now. Thanks Mel."

My wife was waiting in the briefing room. A small room with a projector and a whiteboard, usually used to plan out town events.
She was looking at the pictures of the room.

"Thomas... What is this place? Why are Jeremy's childhood drawings there?!"
"I hoped I was wrong... I hoped so deeply Claire... I hoped those weren't his, that I was just misremembering." I tried to fight it, but as I looked her in the eyes, I couldn't hold my emotions anymore.
I hugged her so tightly that I heard her back crack.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Pike asked. "Shut it." Barrett told him.

After we finally stopped crying, we started talking again.

"Well then. Let's try to make something out of all of this." I said as I moved the whiteboard closer, and started attaching the pictures to it with magnets.

"We know that six people are part of this, four of them are in the hospital." Barrett started.
"The fifth is Jeremy." I added. "And we have no idea where he is." Claire added.
"Or who the sixth person is."

"Wait..." I thought out loud. "I saw something... at the crater... right in the middle of it. Pike."
"Yes?"
"Ask Melanie if she has any clear picture of the crater. If so, bring it here."
"Roger that."

As we waited for Pike to come back I couldn't stop staring at the empty chair.

"Okay while we wait for the rookie. Can you tell me what this place is?" Claire asked, breaking the silence.
"It looks like a... classroom?" Barrett said, confused.
"What kind of classroom has this variety of books? It has kids' stuff, religious stuff, literature, it doesn't make sense." I added.
"None of this is making sense."

"GOT IT!" Pike screamed, entering the room.
He walked up to the board and stuck the picture of the crater on it.

"There! You see it?" I asked them as I pointed to the center of the crater.
"What even is that?" Barrett asked.
"Not what, who." Claire corrected him. "That's a shadow, burned on the ground."
"Did someone bomb us? How is that even possible?" Pike asked.
"I wish I knew Pike. I just hope it isn't Jer---".
My phone rang, louder than usual.
"CHIEF! THEY'RE AWAKE AGAIN!" Dr. Lewis screamed, his voice trembling in fear.
"Calm down doc! What are they doing?"
"They're crying, shouting! They're trying to dig out their eyes!"
"Strap them to something! Don't let them go blind!"
"The entire staff is trying, but they're too strong! And the cries are making us go mad!"

His phone fell to the ground as he jumped back in trying to stop the men.
But we could still hear them.

"THIS IS SORRY! THIS IS SORRY! THIS IS SO SORRY!"
They kept shouting this over and over.
They never stopped.
They never breathed.

Until we heard them collapse to the ground. Not before shouting one last thing, all together.
"THIS DIDN'T. JEREMY. THIS IS SORRY."

The back of the bus always wafted with the vague scent of vomit. No matter how many times it was cleaned, the strange grey pleather was left alone in one row. No one wanted to sit where Janey Russel had thrown up at the beginning of the school year. I had to unstick my shoes from the floor to turn and face my friend.

“Don’t forget to hold your breath when we pass by the cemetery.” I warned them. We had met for the first time a few weeks ago. 

The sun was starting to feel less blistering, and the air had grown a bit cooler. Most of the bus’ windows were down. The people inside enjoyed the breath of fresh air. Green leaves had traded themselves for shades of yellow and red.

“Why? Does it smell?” They asked me.

“Well, sometimes. But that’s not what’s important. Come on, you have to trust me!” I said. 

“But, Maria, I can't hold my breath so well…” Auggie furrowed his brow. 

“Just DO it, Auggie!” 

I took in as deep of a breath as possible. I felt my chest and tummy expand as they filled with air. Pinching my nose with my fingers, I puffed my cheeks out like balloons. The muscles ached as they stretched to accommodate. Auggie looked concerned but followed suit. We had made it just in time, as the bus rounded the corner. Cattails and overgrown grass gave way to headstones speckled with moss. 

Even from my spot on the bus, I felt the air change. It felt ten degrees cooler and somehow heavier. I half expected to see frost on the ground, but the grass looked vibrant and dry. Some of the headstones we passed by were large statues, while others were what you’d typically see in the decoration section of a party store during Halloween. Off in the distance, I saw someone planting a shovel into the ground. A funeral will be happening soon, I thought. 

Suddenly, the bus swerved. Grabbing onto Auggie’s arm, I turned back in the seat to face him. His freckled face had started to turn red. The unexpected jostling of the bus mixed with the fact that he had asthma was a deadly combo. Reaching my hand up with ninja-like reflexes, I clamped my palm over his mouth.  

“Sorry kids, there was a pot-hole!” The bus driver announced over the radio. The speakers buzzed as they let off the button of the microphone . 

I felt my own lungs start to scream as I looked anxiously at Auggie. His eyes widened as he started to give up. Just a little longer and it will be over. The hand that wasn’t over Auggie’s mouth, was clutching one of his tightly. I felt his fingers buckle beneath my grip, causing me to release him ever so slightly. I could feel Auggie’s warm breath on my fingers as he started to exhale. Air was escaping from my lips as well. 

The scenery outside the window shifted from the aged cemetery to a thick patch of trees. They grew so close together that it almost drowned out the sun entirely. If it weren’t for the blue sky showing through the windows on the other side of the bus, I’d have thought we passed through a tunnel. After I quickly expelled the air I’d been holding, I sucked in another deep breath. Chest heaving as I scrambled for oxygen. 

“Why,” Auggie wheezed, “did you make me do that?” 

“What do you mean? Haven’t you ridden the bus before?” I looked at him with my head cocked to the side, still trying to catch my breath. 

“Uhm no…” Auggie reached into his pocket and produced a grey and blue cylindrical piece of plastic. He shook the thing, which made a similar sound to spray paint or a whipped cream can. The blue end was placed into Auggie’s waiting mouth. A hiss, a puff, and an inhale later, Auggie finally looked like he was starting to feel better. His shoulders no longer rose and fell dramatically, and the wheezing disappeared. 

“Oh, yeah. I forgot that this is your first time,” I frowned. “What’s that thing?” 

“My inhaler. I have asthma, remember? This is the medicine that helps me breathe better,” Auggie replied while shoving it back in his pocket. 

“Ewwww, look! Auggie and Maria are holding hands. Maria is practically a guy, so that’s GAY!” Marissa shouted. She was kneeling on her seat, pointing at us. Marissa was one of the only people who dared bully me. She was one of the few girls at the school who I knew was capable of beating me in a fight. We had been friends once, but that is a story for another time. 

“Maria and Auggie sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g!” Kayla, Marissa’s new best friend, had decided to join in on the taunting. Kayla would end up getting her ass whooped soon, very soon. 

I giggled at the thought of the word ass. It was one of the many things I wasn’t allowed to say, even though I heard it at home all the time. My mother had a mouth worse than any trucker I’ve ever met, and there were a lot who passed through our small town. She was a harsh woman - in more ways than one. Even though I wasn’t bothered by what the girls were saying about me, it pissed me off that Auggie was being dragged into the mix. He was my first friend since my breakup with Marissa. 

“You guys better shut the HELL up!” I roared with ferocity. 

“Or what? Huh? What are YOU gonna do?” Marissa pointed her ugly brown eyes at me. 

I figured, if I got violent or popped off threats then my attempt to stop the harassment would backfire. So, I decided to use my brain, and think of another way out. A lightbulb flashed over my head. I knew what she was really after, and what she was bothered by. I knew her better than she knew herself. If I was going to use my words instead of using my fists, I had to go for the throat. 

“I’m not going to DO anything, actually. You’re just jealous, aren’t you?” I paused and sighed for dramatic affect. “I actually have a friend who likes me, while you’re just surrounded by air-heads with money. Loser.” 

The bus erupted into a chaos of laughter and kids saying ‘ooooh that was a sick burn’. I felt pride well up within my core as I sat back down in my seat. Auggie peered up at me, looking shocked . His expression confused me. For a second, neither one of us said anything. 

“You’re a girl?” Auggie finally asked. 

“Last time I checked, yeah. I mean, come on, my name is Maria?”

“Yeah, but boys can have girly names sometimes…” Auggie sounded like he even doubted himself. 

Growing up poor in the middle of nowhere with two older brothers did nothing to help my case. Most of the clothes I wore were hand-me-downs from Devin and Nick, same with my shoes. Grass stains covered my knees and dirt permanently resided under my fingernails. My hair was short and choppy after a mishap with the kitchen scissors - it was dark brown and looked like half a coconut. 

“But, we bonded over the Ninja Turtles…” Auggie’s voice trailed off. 

“Yeah, dummy. Girls can like the Ninja Turtles too.” 

That was how we became friends. At the beginning of fifth grade, I met Auggie in the cafeteria during lunch. Marissa and I had stopped being friends during the summer, which had left me as some kind of leper. No one wanted to sit with me. No one wanted to get involved in the drama. That was when I spotted a lone kid sitting at a table in the middle of the room. I watched as he pulled a tinfoil wrapped PB&J from a metal lunchbox. On the front of it was one of my favorite comics.

“Who’s your favorite?” I asked as I pointed at the lid. 

“Um…Donnie.” The boy replied. He looked up at me through thick blond curls that fell into his eyes. 

“Mine is Raphael. He’s so cool and my favorite color is red. Mind if I sit here and eat?” I was already lowering my butt onto the bench. 

“Who’s your favorite villain?” The boy asked me softly.

“That's a good one…” I thought for a second before responding. “Probably Bebop or Rocksteady. What about you?”

“I like Rahzar. I like that they are also a turtle, just the snapping kind.” 

Pretty soon after that, we finally introduced ourselves. Becoming friends was a quick and easy process for the both of us. Even though we were in different classes, we would always unite during lunch and recess. I guess it had never dawned on me to express that I was a girl - I figured it didn’t matter. 

Usually, Auggie got picked up by his parents after school, but both of them had been stuck at work. Thankfully for us, Auggie’s grandma lived in the area where my bus traveled. For the first time, we would have time together off of school grounds. Even if it was only for ten or fifteen minutes. 

“Are you gonna tell me why you made me hold my breath?” Auggie asked while tugging on my sleeve. 

“I don’t really know. I heard it from the older kids when I was in kindergarten and I’ve been doing it ever since. We all do,” I said, while gesturing around the bus. 

“The bus driver didn’t,” Auggie retorted. 

“Well, she’s not a kid.” I stuck my tongue out at him. 

“Fine, fine, I give.” Auggie held his hands up in defeat. 

I felt a smile grow on my face. Even though it was a silly argument, it felt good to win. It was rare that I won at anything other than using my fists. My fighting skills were also courtesy of my brothers. They showed no mercy, especially to me. Said it was something about teaching me to defend myself. Looking back, all it taught me was that violence was the answer. 

“Wanna come over and play videogames?” Auggie asked. 

I hadn’t realized that I had gotten lost in my thoughts. Auggie’s voice had startled me. I was so used to sitting in the seat alone. Unbothered for the most part, unless Marissa was in a mood. How unlucky for me that she also lived in the same area. I wanted to stick my tongue out and go blegh but restrained myself. 

“Thanks, but no thanks. Mom is still at work and I’m not allowed to go anywhere without her permission.” I frowned at him. 

“Oh man, that’s a bummer. I understand though. My dad can be very strict.” Auggie said, nodding. 

My mother wasn’t just strict. She was something else entirely. A mix between a raging fire and the subzero temperatures during a winter storm. Mother could be loving and caring one minute, then screaming and throwing things the next. I always felt like I had to walk on eggshells. Never knowing what version of her I would find when she came home. My body began to tremble as I thought of my mother.

“Ah yes, take your time, Maria. I know talking about your mother can be hard.” Shaunda, my therapist, looked up from her notebook. She had been moving her hand across the page wildly as I spoke. Now, she studied my face while hers remained blank. 

“I don’t understand why my dad stayed with her for so long. I wish he would have divorced her sooner. Maybe I wouldn’t be having such a visceral reaction right now, if he had.” I leaned back on the couch, staring up at the ceiling. 

“Okay, so, why don’t we pivot. Tell me about the next time Auggie rode the bus with you. What was so special about the second time?” 

Although I was grateful for the change in mental scenery, I wasn’t sure if this was much better. Trying to center myself, I chased after the white rabbit. Tumbling down into the hole where I kept my darkest memories. The rain was cold and the sky was grey. Most of the leaves had evacuated themselves from the tree branches. It was nearing the end of October, Halloween was only a few days away. 

“I’ll be taking the bus to grandma’s house today,” Auggie had told me at lunch. 

“Fantastic! I can show you the new comics Nick let me borrow,” I grinned at him. “Mom finally said we could hang out soon. She said you could come over, as long as your parents are okay with it?” 

“Maybe we can plan something for Saturday?” Auggie asked while taking a bite from his sandwich. PB&J was the only thing this kid seemed to eat. It was much better than the bologna and cheese one that sat in front of me. 

The end of the school day came faster than expected. Usually, when I was excited about something, time seemed to drag on longer than normal. Throwing my coat over my shoulders, I grabbed my backpack and ran for the bus loop. Auggie was already waiting for me when I arrived, a small smile on his lips. He clutched the Ninja Turtles lunchbox with both hands, swinging it back and forth. 

“Ready to go?” Auggie asked. 

I nodded and headed for the stairs. His curly blonde hair bobbed up and down as he followed behind closely. Our footsteps thundered as we climbed onto the bus. The seat that I always sat in was waiting near the back, empty. Checking the ground for obstacles, I walked down the aisle. The seat groaned in protest as we dropped into it. 

“You remember what I told you last time?” I looked at Auggie with concern in my eyes. 

“Yes, Maria. I will remember to hold my breath.” Auggie grinned at me, proud of himself. 

“That’s a good boy,” I ruffled his hair like he was a dog. 

“Okay! Now show me the comics! I’ve been excited since you told me about them at lunch,” Auggie said. 

As the bus took off from its parking spot, I pulled the fragile magazine-like books from my backpack. We flipped through them with animated expressions, ooh-ing and ahh-ing as we went. That was, until we approached the cemetery. Once the cattails sprang into view, I shut the comic and prepared myself for the deep breath. Auggie did the same as last time, mimicking my every move. 

I felt my heartbeat travel through my entire body as I clenched my muscles. I was already feeling pressure build in my head - my cheeks puffing out wildly, like a chipmunk. The familiar sight of headstones and mausoleums filled the windowpane. An almost tangible fog rolled across the ground below. I felt a shiver pass through my body. The person that I’d seen digging the grave the last time Auggie rode the bus with me was standing with the shovel and facing the road. It felt like they were staring directly at me. 

I felt myself wavering at that moment. The shock of seeing the person with the shovel almost caused me to gasp. Instead, I wrapped my lips over my teeth and bit down hard. My nostrils flared against the thumb and pointer finger that pinched my nose closed. Not wanting to let fear force me into a mistake, I focused my gaze. I was going to watch the person standing with the shovel the entire way. I would not let them break me. 

That was when the bus slammed into the pot-hole the driver had avoided many times before. The road had worn away, creating a bigger and deeper hole than before. Then, I heard the sharp inhale of a breath from behind me. I felt the color drain from my face as I turned around to look at Auggie. He was breathing raggedly and clutching at his chest. My narrowed eyes had widened slowly as I processed. Auggie broke the rule. 

“You big dummy!” I cried out as the cemetery disappeared from view. 

“It was an accident… The pot-hole scared me so bad! I thought I was gonna die.” Auggie took a puff from the inhaler, holding it in for a moment before exhaling. 

“Something bad is going to happen now,” I said softly. 

“Like what?” Auggie’s tone seemed snarky. 

“I don’t know, but something very very bad is going to happen.” I realized at that moment that I truly didn’t know what was going to happen. I had never been told what the repercussion was for breaking the rule. Just that you never wanted to do it. My eyes darted around the bus, wondering if anyone else had noticed. Thankfully, they hadn’t. 

“It’s probably fine, Maria. Just a silly superstition.” Auggie went back to reading the comics. 

We spent the rest of the ride flipping through the pages in silence. The chatter on the bus disappeared quietly into the background. Even though I turned the pages every so often, I wasn’t reading them. Something felt off. Something felt wrong. I just didn’t know what. Pretty soon after, it was Auggie’s stop. We said our goodbyes and promised to hang out on Saturday. Before he got off the bus, Auggie stopped at the end of the aisle and took one last look at me before stepping down the stairs. 

Saturday had started off in the best way possible. When I came out of my room to eat breakfast, I heard my mother humming one of her favorite songs. It smelled like pancakes and bacon, the scent made my mouth water as I approached. Devin and Nick were already at the table, fighting over who got the largest pancake. While they weren’t looking, I snatched one from the plate and shoved it in my mouth. 

“Boys, make sure you keep an eye on your sister while her friend is over. We don’t need her getting into trouble when we have company.” Even though my mother’s tone was nice and warm, she spat daggers from her mouth. I may be the youngest, but I was more emotionally aware than anyone else in the family. I knew what she was really saying. ‘Make sure she doesn’t make a fool of me or this family’. 

“Ugh, seriously? You’re gonna make us babysit?” Devin groaned. 

“I’m just gonna take Auggie out to the woods where I built my fort!” I shouted excitedly at my brothers. 

When Auggie arrived, I was already waiting outside. His mother was sitting in the driver’s seat, her hair a poofy blond bird’s nest. He looked a lot like her, even down to the cool and dreary expression. She waved at me from inside the car and let her son out. I waved back robotically before sprinting towards my friend. 

“I’m so glad you are here! I can’t wait to show you all the cool things in my backyard.” I grabbed Auggie by the hand and dragged him alongside me. 

The fort was nothing special, looking back on it. Just a bundle of sticks, a few fallen trees, and a couple of tarps. I was lucky that it had not fallen on top of me - a disaster waiting to happen. I pulled back the tarp that served as a door and beckoned my friend to enter. He had to crouch down so that his head didn’t hit the top of the twig covered roof. Both of us sat down with our legs crossed, letting our eyes travel through the masterpiece I had built. 

“What’s this place for?” Auggie asked. 

“It’s my place to hide when mom is having one of her moments. It’s a place to get away from my brothers when they are picking on me too much. It’s a place where I can truly be myself.” I smiled meekly at Auggie. 

“I wish I had a fort…” Auggie’s voice trailed off. 

“This can be your fort too! You can come here whenever you want!” I clapped my hands together excitedly. 

A cough. Another cough. Auggie clutched at his chest. His breathing started to grow ragged and forced. As he dug around in his pocket for the inhaler, another cough wracked his body. A puff and an inhale later, and Auggie's breathing started to steady. I felt my stomach clench - a feeling passing through me that I couldn’t identify. Shaking myself out, I stood up from the ground and offered my hand. My friend took it gratefully and I pulled him to his feet. 

“Where to next?” Auggie asked while exiting the fort. 

“Let’s go down to the stream!” I shouted excitedly.  

Mud squished under our feet as we walked. It made a sucking sound as we pulled our shoes out for the next step. Piles of pine needles and grass patches were the only safe places to walk, but they were few and far between. I didn’t mind the mud, but Auggie struggled with it as we continued forward. After a few paces, we would get to our first landmark. On a small hill in the distance was the rusted shell of a car with a tree growing through the middle of it. 

I wasn’t sure what kind of car it was, but I knew it looked older than any vehicle I had ever seen. The front end of the car - where the engine should have been - was empty, and the cab was missing its seats. Red paint flaked off the frame, and there were no doors on either side. I had always wondered how a car had made it out this far into the woods, and how it could have fit through all the trees. I did know one thing though, it scared me. There was something creepy about the way it didn’t belong. I made sure to stay as far away as possible while on my way to the stream. 

“Holy CRAP. Is that what I think it is?” Auggie pulled on my hand. 

“No.” I planted my feet firmly. 

“Why not?” One of his blond eyebrows raised. 

“Because it’s scary, and because I said ‘no’.” I scowled at Auggie. 

“I’m going to go touch it,” Auggie said. He pulled on my hand harder. My elbow groaned in protest. 

“Fine, we can go over there. But no touching,” I negotiated. 

As we approached the car, I felt my stomach flip flop again. My palms had started to sweat and my mouth felt dry. Something deep within me was telling me to stay far away. When we got within arm's length of the car, I dropped Auggie's hand. The cool autumn air had seemed to grow even colder the closer we got to the oddly placed hunk of metal. 

*Cough-cough* Between coughs that vibrated through his chest, a smile started to form on the boy's face. Had it been under any other circumstance, the smile might’ve seemed genuine. This smile was sinister though. It stretched too wide. Took up too much of his face. As Auggie reached a hand towards the car, reflexively I took a step back. Snap! A twig broke underfoot. His gaze snapped up to me. Under the shade of the trees his eyes looked…sunken and bruised. 

“M-maybe we should keep going. The stream isn’t too far from here.” I stuttered. 

“Yeah, I guess we can go.” Auggie pulled his hand back from the car. The smile fell away into a look of apathy. The wavering of his personality struck me as odd, but not necessarily anything I needed to worry about.

Instead of walking side-by-side, hand-in-hand, Auggie walked behind me. At first, I walked with confidence - marching towards our destination. The birds are no longer chirping, I thought. Looking back on it, I wondered how long it had been since they fell silent. I felt the hairs raise on the back of my neck. Each crunch and snap caused me to jump. Something felt wrong. The woods felt too quiet. It felt like we were making too much noise. I wanted to turn around at that moment. I don’t know why I didn’t. For some reason, I just kept pushing through. 

“We can stop here if you’d like. I can tell that this is starting to really bring up some hard emotions,” Shaunda said and adjusted her glasses. 

“No, this is always the point where we stop. I have to just keep pushing if I want to make any progress.” 

“Okay, so what happened at the stream?” Shaunda’s prompting sent me back down the rabbit-hole yet again.

“He had started coughing again. Really, really badly,” I began. 

The stream truly hadn’t been much farther. I’d say we walked for maybe another ten minutes or so. When the coughing began, I just thought it was his asthma acting up again. I knew that physical activity made his condition worse, but I thought our slow pace would have made it a little easier. Auggie had doubled over, clutching at his chest while he hacked up a lung. The fear that I had been feeling coalesced into a burst of action. I ran over to him. 

Just as I had placed my hand on Auggie’s shoulder, the coughing stopped. He stood up straight, the sinister smile back on his face. The bruised bags returning under his eyes. I felt his hands on my shoulders, and then I was falling. My back slammed against the large rocks and boulders that lay at the bottom of the stream. Ice cold water splashed up around me, covering my face. I didn’t have enough time to catch my breath. The wind was knocked out of me on impact. 

Auggie was on top of me, holding me down. The surface of the water was disturbed by my struggling. It kept me from clearly seeing his face, but I knew. I knew that if I could see him, that he would be smiling that same unnerving smile I had seen just moments before. I thrashed and I kicked, trying to find some way for my face to reach the surface. I needed air. I hadn’t had a chance to hold my breath, and this wasn’t a game. 

“MARIAAAAA,” Devin’s voice was the first thing I heard as I was finally pulled out of the water. 

Auggie was still standing above me. This time his face was full of genuine fear and concern. As soon as I made it back onto my feet, he quickly released my arms and stepped back. His entire body was trembling and he kept apologizing over and over and over. When the sounds of Devin’s approach grew louder, Auggie took off. He bolted back the way we came without so much as a second glance. 

I wanted to cry at that moment, unsure of what had just happened. When my brother's face appeared from behind a tree, the tears that had formed in my eyes suddenly dried up. No matter what, I couldn’t let him see me weak. I couldn’t let him see me cry. Trying to brush the mud from my body, I took a shaky step forward. A shock of pain shot through my back and arm, causing me to wince. 

“What the hell happened to you?” Devin asked. “Wait, where’s Auggie?” 

“Oh, um, I fell. And Auggie went home a little while ago,” I lied.  

“Hm. Weird, but okay. Let’s go. It’s time for dinner.” 

The walk back to the house was cold and painful. My mother took one look at me, and fury bloomed behind her eyes. Her voice switched from a tone of sweetness to that of absolute hatred. I was a ‘mess of a child that had ruined dinner and would no longer be eating with the family’. After I cleaned up the mud I had tracked through the house, I was supposed to shower and then eat. 

Looking into the bathroom mirror, I saw that my back was covered with many bruises that had started to form. They ranged in size but would all eventually turn so dark they’d almost look black. Slipping into my pajamas, I winced as they brushed across my skin. When I got down to the kitchen, my mother was waiting for me at the table. The rest of the family was sent to bed, so that they wouldn’t witness my punishment. 

Waiting for me was a can of cold asparagus. Mother knew that this was the one food that I absolutely hated. She had already opened the can and had placed a fork next to it. I gulped audibly as I took hesitant steps forward. Instead of wild rage, my mother wore a look of cold hatred. That was a much scarier appearance to me. 

“You will sit here and eat the whole can. I will watch you so you don’t worm your way out this time. Your dad isn’t going to be coming to save you.” 

I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream. I wanted to tell her that it wasn’t my fault. I wanted to tell her about what had happened out in the woods. Nothing I could have said at that moment would have changed her mind. So instead, I sat down. The first bite caused me to gag. The asparagus was slimy, squishy, and smelled like rot. 

“Please, mama. Please don’t make me eat it all,” I cried. 

“If you do not eat it all, I will personally shove it down your throat. I don’t think you want that, do you?” My mother hissed. 

Plugging my nose with one hand, I used the other to shovel the disgusting and cold vegetable into my mouth. Mashing my teeth together wildly, I tried my best to ignore the taste and texture as I swallowed. The gag hit me hard, sending part of the masticated mess back up my throat. I swallowed multiple times and stood up from the table. The can was empty. 

“Good girl, now go right to bed.” That was all my mother said as she walked away. 

Clutching a hand to my mouth, I ran up the stairs. As quietly as one can, I heaved up my stomach contents into the toilet and then brushed my teeth. Mother’s punishments were always cruel and never seemed to make sense. She would tell me every so often that I should be grateful. Grateful that at least she didn’t hit me like her parents did to her. I just wanted this day to be over. Sleep was difficult for me that night. I tossed and turned, nightmare after nightmare plaguing me. Drowning while my friend smiled above me. 

Auggie didn’t come to school for a while. He had come down with a very serious case of pneumonia, which had put him in the hospital. Although I was afraid of him now, I wanted to see him. I wanted to know why he had done that to me. It had been almost two weeks by the time I saw him again. When I got to lunch that day, there he was at the table like usual. Ninja Turtle lunchbox sitting open with a sandwich in his hand. 

“Uh, hi Auggie.” I sat down. 

He looked up at me for a moment. There was a look of confusion that quickly turned back to his usual apathy. His eyes still looked sunken, and his skin was paler than normal. Aside from that he seemed healthy. The practically finished sandwich told me that he must have been feeling fine. Not wanting to deal with the fact that he was very obviously ignoring me, I stood up from the table and decided to eat while standing by the trash cans. It made exiting the lunchroom a lot easier when the bell rang since they were close to the door. 

When I took the bus home that afternoon, Auggie was standing at the front of the line. I raised my hand to wave at him, and he did the same. Without speaking to each other, we walked up the stairs once the door squeaked open. Footsteps thudded like usual, echoing lightly. He must have to go to his grandma's house again, I thought as I sat down. The pleather seat hissed as our butts depressed the tired cushion. 

Before the bus rolled out of the school, I turned to look at Auggie. His dark circles had grown more intense than they were at lunch. Opening my mouth for a moment, I took in a breath. Before I could speak, the look of tiredness on his face stopped me in my tracks. Instead, I looked out the window and studied the scenery. As the cattails appeared, I heard Auggie speak. 

“Don’t forget to hold your breath.” 

As the cemetery burst into full view, I saw that the person who I’d seen holding the shovel was a man. He looked really old, older than my mamaw and papaw and really sick. Silver hair and wrinkled skin were easy to see as he stood by the edge of the road. I felt his eyes burn into me as I peeked out of the window. Dark blue crescent moons hung under his droopy eyes. He still held the shovel in one hand, and waved slowly with the other. I did not wave back, too focused on not breaking the rule.

When we finally reached the edge of the dense woods, I let out the breath I had been holding. As I expelled the air, I turned to face Auggie. He was sitting in the seat with his eyes closed. He looked just as sick and tired as the man with the shovel. I wanted to pat his shoulder and ask if he was okay, but decided not to. 

When the bus stopped in front of Auggie’s grandma’s house, he stood up silently and walked towards the front of the bus. Like last time, he paused to look back at me. The sinister smile grew upon his face. I shivered in my seat and broke my gaze. Without looking up, I heard the thundering of feet as kids hopped down the stairs and exited the bus. The doors hissed as they closed and then we were back on the move.   

“Was that the last time you saw young August?” Shaunda asked. 

“Well, yes and no. I went to his funeral. It wasn’t until later that I found out what happened. For years I had wondered why we moved so abruptly after the start of fifth grade. I think it was a wakeup call for dad, what happened to Auggie. He probably thought that it could have been me, who had been found dead in the fort. They said it was an asthma attack, that he’d run away from home and forgot his inhaler. I don’t know if I believe that, though. Not entirely.” 

“What makes you say that, Maria?” Shaunda asked. 

I panned my eyes from Shaunda’s face, to the space just behind her chair. Eleven year old Auggie stood behind her, his face forever frozen in time. His mouth moved in a way that I understood all too well. He always said the same thing over and over and over. A ghost that forever reminds me of the most important rule to ever enter my life. 

“Don’t forget to hold your breath.”