Short Stories of the Horror and Bizarre

Author: Mychal Wilson

Silent Scream

Word Count: 7,303

Walking down what was clearly a rarely used road with a gas can in my hand, I cursed myself for ever deciding to take this trip. I wanted to get away from the city for a bit, so I decided to take a lonely drive out in the country. Had I realized this particular part of the country was so devoid of people, I would have filled up my gas tank at the last stop I passed. I did not expect to get out here and there be nothing. There were no diners, no filling stations and no houses I saw anywhere since passing the last convenience store several hours ago. 

It would be a major stroke of fortune to have a car drive up about now, but I did not believe there was much of a chance of that happening. I maybe saw four other cars since reaching the foothills, and by the look of the leaves piled up on this particular road, it is not utilized very often at all. There simply did not seem to be any option available for me than to walk until I could find some help. If I waited by my car for help, I might be waiting out here for eternity. 

The roads winding through the foothills made for a much longer walk than I initially anticipated. I was used to walking the straight paths in the city, and I did not put much thought into how much longer this meandering road would make my hike. The sun was beginning to set, which I did anticipate, and I checked again to make sure my flashlight was working. I checked before ever leaving my car to be sure the batteries still had power in them. 

Things took on a more sinister tone when the sun set completely behind the hills. There was only the sliver of a waxing moon hanging in the sky, which left it amazingly dark here on the ground. I did not want to rely on my flashlight constantly. If I ended up being out here all night, I did not want my only light to go dead on me. I used it to get a look at where I was going, then shut it off as I walked for five minutes or so while doing my best to stay on the road in the dark. 

Car horns, engines revving, people whistling for cabs, these were the night sounds I was used to . As a matter of fact, I did not really even hear them anymore. It was so much a part of my everyday life. Out here though, things were different. People generally think of the peace and quiet of the countryside, but I found it to be just the opposite. I found all the insects, birds and other nocturnal animals created a loud mix of chirps and songs that haunted the night air. 

A few times I heard something howl out in the night. I assumed it must be wolves, coyotes or something similar. The cries came from far away, so I did not worry too much about being mauled by some wild animal. Still, I guess there was always that chance of encountering a carnivore in search of an easy meal. I did have my .38 revolver on my belt, which I retrieved from the glove box before departing my vehicle, so that added greatly to my feeling of safety. 

If any hungry animals did want to try to turn me in to a meal, they could easily find me. The leaves were falling from the trees, and the paved street was several inches deep with them. It was virtually impossible for me to walk without kicking leaves as I went. Walking off the side of the road was no better. Besides, there was very little if any road shoulder at all. The last thing I wanted to do was twist my ankle or worse. I remained on the leaf strewn country road but lifted my feet a bit higher as I walked in an attempt to lessen the noise I made. The extra effort did slow my pace a bit. 

The more I contemplated it, the more distressed I became that I would encounter an aggressive animal and be eaten in the middle of nowhere. I knew there were bears in the mountains, but I did not know how far down into the foothills they came. The thought of a wolf or coyote worried me enough, but once I thought about the possibility of bears, I began to grow frightened. 

It felt like I covered ten miles or so, but when I looked at my watch and saw only an hour passed since abandoning my car, I guessed it was probably much closer to five miles. I drove for hours to end up where I did. It was possible I could walk for days before I ran into anyone or found anyone who could help me. The thought of dying out here from hunger or thirst became a real fear for me extremely fast. There was no way I could walk all the way back to the last service station I passed. If no one found me, I was going to be in some real trouble. 

The temperature was nice, probably somewhere in the low 70’s, so I was not sweating from the walk. I was, although, being eaten alive by mosquitos. I never expected to be out here walking in the dark in the middle of nowhere. Since I expected to be in my car most of the time, I did not bring any mosquito repellant with me. I knew I would be covered in itchy red welts by the time I finally returned to civilization. 

I found my eyes stayed well-adjusted to the darkness if I avoided using my flashlight. All I needed to do was stay on the paved street. That was easier than it sounded at some points. Multiple times I loudly kicked some leaves from the ground because I was unable to see the height of the piles in the dark. I did not want to attract the attention of anything lurking about the dark hills. The only way I could avoid the leaf piles was to use my flashlight, which again brought attention to my presence. 

After nearly three and a half hours of walking I found nothing. I began inadvertently kicking the small piles of leaves again. I walked with a high step for hours, and I simply could not do it anymore. That used up a lot more energy than I expected, and who knows how much longer I had to walk. 

I avoided kicking leaves when I could, but I no longer put any effort into it. I walked this long without seeing any large animals, so I felt rather confident I probably never would. I didn’t think it was worth the extra energy to try to keep quiet. 

I almost screamed when something swooped down from above and snapped at the top of my head. My blood rushed and sparks flooded my eyes. I dropped the gas can and was going to run, but I did not know to where I should run. I did not know if I would be safer on the road or in the woods. I almost dropped to the ground when it happened again. If I were not so panicked, I probably would have laughed when I realized what it was. It was nothing more than small bats snatching mosquitos out of the air. 

It took me a few minutes to get my nerves worked back down again. Now I knew it was nothing more than little bats feeding on the nocturnally active insects, but the initial incident still had my heart racing. Eventually I picked the gas can up off of the ground and continued on my way. I was weary and watched for the bats, but they were so fast and it was so dark I could not see them until they were right on me. None came as close to me as the previous two did, and that was fine by me. 

First being startled by the bats, and second just knowing they were flittering all around me made the creepy seclusion out here in the hills much more intense. Now it seemed like the trees were moving, trying to warm me about something. It felt like the occasional winds were trying to whisper something malicious into my ear. I started to feel a sense of paranoia I never experienced until now. I could suddenly sense the stares of the night animals as I walked through the inky dark alone. 

What was I thinking? Why did I drive all the way out here? What made me think this was a good idea? 

I just wanted to get out and away from the city for a bit. I very rarely took any time to spend outside of the concrete jungle in which I lived and worked. I wanted to see something green that was not a trash can or municipal bus. If only I realized before it was too late that there were no gas stations to be found. That was something I was definitely not expecting. Surely there were people who lived out here, and they had to get their gas somewhere. 

There had to be someone living out here in the foothills, there just had to. I could not see this much open country being totally devoid of human inhabitants. There were roads out here. Sure, they were old roads, but they were not so old as to be in a state of severe disrepair. I saw multiple Christmas tree farms before I ran out of gas, so I knew there were at least people who worked around here. Maybe they did not work out here every day, but they had to work out here some. It seemed to me there would be people living on the land they farmed. 

I finally had to stop. I had the early stages of blisters forming on my feet, and I was reaching the point of being thoroughly exhausted. If I did not stop and allow myself time to rest, I was going to find myself collapsed on this leaf covered road. I found a nice grassy spot at the base of a very steep hill. It was my assumption that I would be safe seated here with my back to this sharp incline. I could not imagine there were too many animals that could climb down this eighty-degree hill with any kind of speed or skill. 

I had no idea what I was going to do. I knew I could not walk all the way back to the city, but I did not know where to find anything way out here in the boonies. I really put myself in one hell of a predicament. If a car did not see me, I could not imagine how I was ever going to reach civilization again. 

Apparently, I was much more exhausted than I thought. I leaned back against the hill and closed my eyes to rest for a moment. When I opened my eyes back up, the sun was barely starting to peek above the horizon. I laid there vulnerable for three hours, exposed to anything and everything. I guess luck was with me last night after all. 

Once I put my shoes back on my sore feet, I got up, grabbed the gas can and flashlight, and continued walking. I looked around through as I walked, since now I could see, for anyone or anything that could direct me to where someone was. Still, I only saw hills, trees and shrubs. 

I was becoming quite desperate. The last service station I passed was more than sixty miles from where I ran out of gas. I knew I was not going to walk that far without food and only one bottle of water. Having someone drive along and find me was the most ideal option, but the least likely. I had to search for signs of civilization: powerlines, phone lines, well-used roads. 

I finished with the last of my water around noon. I kept the bottle with me just in case I found a spring. Those did tend to be quite common in this area. Fresh mountain spring water as a general rule is sterile, so I wouldn’t need to worry about parasites. I knew a little about wilderness survival from going to camp as a kid, but most of those things left my memory long-long ago. 

My mood perked up a bit when I rounded a bend and saw phone lines running from one side of the road to another. I ran under the lines laughing with my hands in the air. I was so happy to find this because, by the look of the pole, this was a very local line. I bet there was not more than a dozen homes connected to it. It was going to be a lot more difficult, but it looked like I was going to have to travel through the hills. I really didn’t want to, but I truly believed I would find help faster following the phone lines and not the leaf covered road. 

It helped to stay in the valley, even though it was a very curvy one. To walk in a straight line, I would have to go up and down, and up and down these steep, rocky hills. It was actually rather marshy directly between the hills. I did not know it would be like this. I had to stay out of the center because the silty mud almost took off one of my shoes. Mostly the mud was a light gray color, but here and there I saw spots dark enough to be crude oil. That was all I needed, to get caught in this fluidic mud and die. 

The mosquitos were terrible as my movement and the smell of my breath stirred them into a frenzy. The little blood suckers got me now and then as I walked along the road, but now they were attacking me constantly. I was thirty minutes into the hills and was about to turn back. Suddenly I saw someone standing atop a distant grassy hill. I yelled and flailed my arms, but I don’t think he heard me. He probably could not hear me because I was down in the valley. I tried to move it a little faster as I made my way toward the man. Butterflies filled my stomach then a sense of relief washed over me. I could not believe I found someone. 

When I rounded the bend and came to the large grassy hill upon which he stood, I called out to him again. The man still did not respond. He just stood there staring off in the other direction. I wondered if he was old or deaf. I tried calling out to him a few times before I began to ascend the hill. 

It was a difficult climb to the top. The ground was damp from recent rains, so the grass pushed loose under the weight of my body. Climbing this hill was indeed a struggle, but I finally made it. I staggered over to the man as I continued to call out to him. He did not move, so I limped my way over to stand in front of him. I wanted to cry when I got a look at him. 

His face was gray, his clothes were gray, everything about him was gray. He was nothing but a statue. It was a very detailed statue. The complexity of the facial features, the texture of the clothing; they were just absolutely amazing. Who in their right mind would spend the time it took to create this magnificent work of art and then put it out here where no one would ever see it? That made absolutely no sense at all. This was something that should be in a museum. 

The statue was of a man dressed as one would in the early 1800’s. He had a rifle in his hand with the butt resting on the ground. His hair was long and unkempt, and a beard about an inch long covered his face. The clothes were a mix of furs and deer skin or leather. Several pouches hung from his belt, which was actually no more than a piece of rope. The eyes had a look of sadness, and his mouth was open as if he were about to say something. 

There was something really creepy about this. It simply did not make sense for someone to put so much time and effort into creating this thing only to bring it out here and stand it on one of the hills. I didn’t see any reason for this. I decided to climb back down and get back to the road. I did not want to be out in the hills anymore. 

I slipped once climbing down and slid more than three feet down the slope. I tried to be careful, but the foliage covering the ground pulled loose very easily. We didn’t get any rain in the city recently, but apparently there was plenty of rain here.  

The ground released a putrid squishy sound as I reached the valley floor. Disturbing the grass and such on my way down, and stepping around on the muddy ground had the mosquitoes stirred up more than ever. Little spots of blood dotted my arms from slapping full ones. It almost seemed like the little blood hawks were about to carry me off. 

Suddenly I realized I did not pay attention to which way I came down the hill, so I was not sure which direction I needed to go. Climbing both up and down the hill, I kicked loose a lot of grass and dirt. All I had to do was walk around the grassy mound until I found my climbing spot. I would know exactly which way to go from there. 

Keeping tight to the base of the hill, I began walking. I made it half way around and still saw no signs of where I climbed up. Something did not seem right, and I really began to worry. I made it all the way around thelarge mound , and I saw no signs of my ascension of the hill. I did not find any signs of where I climbed down either. I kicked and knocked a lot of stuff loose, but the turf looked like it was completely untouched. Frantically I looked around for anything, any sign at all of where I disturbed the soil. It was almost as if the ground was healing itself. 

This couldn’t be happening. I knew this couldn’t be happening. I was probably still asleep on that hill next to the road. That had to be it. I was still asleep. 

Then why did my legs and feet ache so much? 

Giving up on trying to find my previous tracks, I looked around for the power lines I followed to get to this point. I was sure I should be able to see them from the base of this hill. I stepped out and away to get a look at the statue on top. I was sure I came up to the right side of its back, so I tried to use that to get a fix on my position. 

It was late morning and rather warm, but my body ran cold with chills as I looked at the statue. I still could not understand why someone would put such a detailed work of art out here like this, but I really no longer cared to think about that. All I wanted to do was to find my way back to that paved road, even if it was rarely used and covered in leaves. At least there I knew I was on a man-made surface. Everything about these hills felt unnatural, maliciously unnatural. 

Using the statue to regain my direction, I managed to locate the phone lines I followed out here. I remembered it being marshy as I was coming this way, but I did not remember it being so slippery. I had to take great care with my steps so that one foot or both feet did not slip out from under me. 

I was already thirsty, and all this anxiety and physical strain was making me sweat. If I did not find a fresh source of water soon, I would likely die. I did not want to leave my body out here for the animals to pick apart. I so desperately wanted to find my way back to the city and never leave again. To hell with nature and enjoying time ‘out in the country.’ 

I did remember passing some small waterfalls on and around some of the rockier areas, but I could not remember how far away they were. It was really hard to judge the distance traveled in a car when having to travel that same ground on foot. One minute in a car could be an hour on foot. 

I wanted to drop to my knees and kiss the street when I saw the leaf covered road. Tears literally rolled down my cheek when I saw that hard, dry, man-made surface. I tried to run, tried to sprint, but my throbbing feet were so blistered and sore I could scarcely manage to walk. I had to remove my shoes. Leaving them on would only blister me more as I continued to walk this long road. I tucked them under one arm, carried my gas can with one hand, and my flashlight in the other. 

My gait began to waver as I walked without moving my arms. I was so tired, I wanted to collapse. I knew I had to keep moving or I was going to die out here. Knowing this was the only thing that kept me standing. 

Time became blurry. I was not sure how long it was since I got back on the road. I know it was a long time, but that was about as accurate as I could be. Dehydration was thickening my blood and it felt as if my heart was about to leap out of my chest. It took absolutely everything I had in me to keep going. 

Suddenly I noticed the rushing sound of flowing water. I did not believe it at first. I was sure it was nothing more than a hallucination brought on by exhaustion and dehydration. As I listened, I continued to hear it. It was real. From this distance it was very difficult to tell where the sound was originating. The ringing in my ears made pinpointing it from a distance all but impossible. 

Continuing forward, I tried my best to focus on that wonderful sound of life-sustaining water. Eventually the sound grew louder and louder. The louder it became, the surer I was that I was going to find it. Working my dry tongue against my cracked lips, I could almost taste the cold spring water. 

Finally, I found the location of the sound; I had to once again leave the road and walk a little deeper into the hills. This area was steeper, and much rockier than the previous area I explored. I found a large pool of water. As much as I wanted to dive into it and start drinking, I knew I needed to follow the water a little closer to the source. The water needed to be cold and flowing, and this water was heated by the sun and stagnate. 

It was only another hundred feet or so before I found the fresh spring from which the water flowed from the rocks. Being as careful as I could not to slip and fall, I worked my way to the spring and began drinking. I could not control myself and I drank until my side began to cramp. Grabbing my side with both hands, I doubled over onto the ground. 

The pain was absolutely excruciating, but after a short time it subsided. My mouth was still dry, and the running water only made me thirstier. I began taking small drinks and allowing that to settle before I drank any more. I was probably there for an hour before I started to feel normal again. I was not going to die from thirst today. 

I stayed there by the little waterfall replenishing the missing water from my body for another hour before getting back to the road. Walking with cramps would be next to impossible, so I needed to make sure the water was getting absorbed into my system. Trying to make it on foot with a stomach full of water would leave me doubled over once again. 

When I did finally follow the flow of the water back to the large pool, I saw what I first thought to be nothing but a rock on the side of a grassy hill partially covered in trees. As I looked at it for a moment, I realized it looked more like a person. It looked like a person, but it did not move. 

As frightened as I was at that moment, I still could not resist the urge to get a close look at the statue. It was not far, and I made sure to study the landmarks before I left the water’s edge. I was not going to get myself in the same predicament as before. That was not a mistake I planned to make twice. 

This figure appeared to be made of the same sort of stone as the first statue. I stayed a few feet to the side of it and climbed up to get a look at it from the front. When I did, I wished I stayed away from it. 

This figure was that of a woman. Her mouth was wide-open in what appeared to be mid-scream, and the features on her face were contorted in fear. Her hair was disheveled, but it reminded me of the hairstyles that were so popular in the mid 1980’s. She looked like she was trying to get away from something, like she was desperately trying to get away with her life. 

I started running. I did not notice the pain in my feet anymore. The fear overcame that. Unfortunately, my fear also made me careless. I was paying attention to what was up ahead and not what was right in front of me. I hit a small grassy patch in the rocks and it went right out from under me. 

The next thing I knew it was dark again. I had no idea for how long. I slipped on that patch of grass and banged my head pretty good. I tried to ignore the pounding in my skull enough to get myself comfortably into a seated position. I tried to get a look at my watch, but I could see the screen was cracked. I took it off and angrily threw it into the darkness. 

There was a little sliver of moon out tonight, and I already determined it was in the waxing phase. I like looking at the moon through my telescope at home, so I became good at deducing the time by the position and phase of the moon. 

It was a little after midnight. At least I had that figured out. Using my shirt, I dabbed at the back of my head gently then checked the fabric for blood. There was a little, but it did not seem to be too bad. Suddenly there was a sinking feeling in my stomach as I realized I left my flashlight back at the statue on the top of that hill. I was in such a panic; I did not even think about it. All I could think about all day was finding water. Now it was dark, and I was virtually blind. 

There simply was not enough moonlight to use for navigation. The sound of the water was still very clear, so I did my best to take small steps and worked my way to the spring. Once I reached the pool it was a straight shot back to the road again. It took a long time. It felt like an eternity, and I could swear I felt eyes glaring at me. I did not know where they were, but I was sure this was more than a sense of paranoia. 

This feeling I was being watched made me want to rush. It was a struggle not to follow my instincts and flee as fast as I possible could, but I knew the chances of me injuring myself were a hundred times better in the dark than in the daytime. Already possibly having a serious head injury, I did not want to fall and hurt myself again. 

Feeling like something was about to come bearing down on me, I experienced a very momentary sense of relief when I saw the reflection of the moon dancing on the surface of that large pool. From there I knew which direction I should go. I was so glad I had the forethought this time to familiarize myself with the area before straying off. Even in this haunting darkness, I was able to locate my markers. I was only ten feet away from the road when the grass under my right foot slipped free from the marshy ground. 

Again, I slipped and fell on my back, but this time I smacked down into the mud rather than banging my head on another rock. It hurt. It hurt a lot, but I did not knock myself unconscious this time. A few minutes passed as I caught my breath and allowed the sparks in my eyes to subside before attempting to get myself off the ground. 

My whole back side was covered in mud and grass. I needed to wash my head wound and drink some more water, but there was no possible way I was going to even consider attempting to feel my way through the dark over that slippery, rocky terrain created by that fresh water spring. 

Finally making it back to that old country road, I dropped to my knees and started crying. I started bawling is more like it. Death felt so close; I wondered if those were the sinister eyes I felt staring at me. 

Was the Grim Reaper following me waiting for me to make that one fatal mistake? 

Mud filled my shoes when I fell. I had no other choice than to remove them from my feet again. Taking them off to tuck them back under my arm, it dawned on me I never picked up the gas can after I fell the first time. When I was rescued, if I was ever rescued, hopefully they would have one because I was not going to leave this road again. 

Ignoring the pain coursing from my feet to my head, I ran as fast as I could. The piles of leaves on the road shifted under my feet, and I had to again stop and walk. Something was out there stalking me. I could feel it like I could feel the blisters on my feet. At this point I would be happy if it was a wolf hiding in the darkness, but I did not think that was the case. This thing haunting me was not something natural to this world. 

My body told me I had to stop, but I would not listen. I was not going to stop until I saw the sun again. Fear and fear alone kept me going. I pushed through the pain and kept on the move. There was no way I was going to sit out here in the dark with whatever it was that was watching me. 

Every now and then I stepped on a small rock concealed under the heaping leaves. It hurt intensely, but I could not put on my shoes until I could get the silty mud out of them. Crumbled leaves and tiny sticks stuck to the mud on my socks, but I was not going to walk fully barefooted. The socks did not provide much protection, but they did provide some. I had to routinely clean the debris from my feet taking up time and energy I did not have. I needed to get as far as I could while it was still dark and cool. Once the sun came back out, I would begin sweating again. That meant I would need to find another source of drinkable water. 

With the exception of the pain from stepping on the occasional rock, walking on the leaves in my socked feet was actually quite comfortable. Wearing my mud filled shoes would only cause my blisters to progress faster, so this was some small relief in an otherwise intense situation. 

Because of the noise made as I walked through the growing cover of leaves on the road, I did not notice it until I stopped to rest for a moment. The sound of trickling water was inviting as it echoed in the night air. I was insatiably thirsty and wanted so badly to go find the spring, but there was absolutely no chance I was going to go off into the hills in the dark. Fortunately, sunrise came not even an hour later. 

There was no sense of relief when the sun did finally begin to rise. Whatever was following me, it was still out there hiding. The sun did not make the danger go away; it simply gave me a better chance of seeing what it was. I would not feel safe again until I was seated on the couch in my modestly sized apartment in the city. 

I waited until the sun rose above the tops of the hills before going in search of water. I had to go in my socked feet until I could wash out my shoes, but that seemed to make the walk on the slippery rocks a little easier. The ability of my foot to form around the shape of the water eroded rocks gave me a much firmer footing than my shoes ever could. 

Locating the running water, I followed it upstream in search of its source. Straight from a spring is the only place one could find drinkable water out here in the middle of nowhere. The water in the small stream was contaminated by microscopic animals and bacteria. The spot where the water emerged directly from the rocks in the hills was where the cleanest water could be found. 

Before I set off to follow the water upstream, I washed my shoes out at this part of the stream. Most of the mud came right off, but small clumps of black would not wash off. Even after using my hands to try to scrub it off, the black stuff remained. I pulled my shoe back out of the water and looked at it more closely. It did not look like dirt. It looked like that black stuff I saw mixed in with the mud close to where I found that first statue. 

I checked my socks and the substance was on them too. Removing my socks, I found the stuff was on my feet. I looked under my arm where I carried my shoes and found spots of it there as well. Washing it off did not work. Trying to wipe it away did not work. It was adhering to me like little droplets of tar. I was sure some good strong soap would get it off once I got rescued and got home. 

I shook as much water as I could out of my shoes and tied the laces together. I hung them around my neck and began my walk upstream. It was really very beautiful. The stream-bed consisted of nothing but rock. All the dirt and silt washed away long ago. The vegetation, though late in the season, was still a strong and healthy dark green. Soft moss covered many of the rocks, and yellow and bright orange lichens tried to cover what the moss did not. 

I did not have to follow the stream to its origin this time. Multiple springs fed this one, so all I had to do was find the closest one. That did not take nearly as much time as I thought it would. I felt the water and found it was icy cold. I washed my hands off as best as I could and then used them as a cup to feed myself water from the spring. It did not flow as strong as the spring yesterday, so I could not drink from it directly. This was going to take a little time, but I saved a lot of time not following the stream to its source. 

When I shifted my weight from one side to the other, I lost my balance and slipped. I did not slip enough to fall, but I did kick loose a two square foot patch of moss growing on a large rock. In the rich mud, I saw more of that black oily substance. 

What was that stuff? Could it be crude oil seeping out of the ground? Was it some sort of pollution? 

I screamed when the substance spread to the loosened moss, pulled it back in place, and made it look as if it was never disturbed. I screamed both from the fright of that unnatural sight and from excruciating pain. When the black substance became active, all the little black droplets on my body began to burn. It felt like someone kicked the hot coals of a camp fire at me causing the burning cinders to blow on me like snow. 

I could not believe what I saw. The ground healed itself. These hills were alive, or something was alive in them. That explained why I could not find where I disturbed the ground at the hill with the statue of the man on top. I began to panic as I considered the terrifying possibilities. 

Was this natural, supernatural or alien in nature, and was it ever going to let me get out of here alive? 

I grabbed my shoes and began to run. I did not think about falling or slipping on the wet stones. The only thing on my mind was getting away. I did not know where I could get away to, but if I reached the road, at least I would be back on a man-made surface. I never saw any of that oily black stuff on the leaves or anything on the paved surface. I prayed it was not in the water, because if it was, I just put it directly into my body. 

I tried to vomit. I stuck my finger down my throat to try and make myself gag. I did my best to expunge the water from my stomach, but unfortunately I had no success. I had to pray none of that stuff was in the cold spring water I consumed only minutes ago. 

I got up and ran in such a hurry, I left my shoes sitting by the small waterfall. I still had my pistol though. I never removed it from my belt. I did not think it would do me any good against these living hills, but it still gave me some measure of comfort having it on me. 

With my adrenalin still surging from the horror I experienced, I jogged down the road as far as I could. My body wanted to collapse on me, but I wanted nothing more than to get away from here and away from this cursed terrain. I did not know how far this stuff spread. It went back at least as far as the first statue I found. That was more than a full day’s walk. I had to wonder if it was just around the road, or if it also went deep into the hills. 

When I stopped, I bent over and put my hands on my knees to rest a moment. I glanced at the black stuff adhered to my skin. Suppressing my urge to cry, I could not suppress the tears that ran from my eyes. The spots were larger, and the skin around them began to grow very dry and rough. Checking my feet, I found the same thing happening there. Panic and fear surged through me like a bolt of lightning. The stuff was doing something to me, changing me. 

The coloration of the dry skin was the same as that of the two statues. They looked so realistic because they were real. Those figures were no works of art at all. Those figures were people just like me. This horrid substance was going to turn me into stone. 

How could that possibly be? 

I tried gripping one of the droplets between my fingernails to try and pluck it from my skin, but it was not going to come off. I tried again to wipe it with my shirt to no avail. I already tried washing it off in the water. I wish I still had my gas can. Perhaps the few drops of gas that were still in it would remove this stuff. 

I nearly jumped out of my skin when I heard a voice whisper into my ear. I could not understand what it said, but I could pick up on the malicious tone. I heard it a second time. This time it was much clearer, but I still could not understand it. It sounded as if it were in some long-lost language. 

Frantically I looked around me for the source of that voice. It sounded like it was whispering right into my ear, but there was nothing near me. I swung my arms around the air with my palms open as if I were trying to swat something away. 

A shock surged through my whole body when the ghostly voice screamed at me. It was a scream of rage yet somehow a scream of sorrow. I could not see anything that could be making these sounds and that terrified me beyond any level of fear I knew. 

I was going to run, but a large mass of the black substance began to cover a large section of the road. I turned to run back, but the stuff covered that direction too. The patches of the goo were already too wide for me to jump. 

As I stood there trying to figure out how to get around the black ooze, a pillar of the substance rose out of the ground at the edge of the road. It took on a very vaguely human shape, like it was trying to imitate me. I could feel it staring at me, observing me. The retched thing had no eyes, but I could still feel it looking at me. I stood, almost as if mesmerized, and stared back at the unnatural thing. 

The unholy pillar of sludge began to roil and bubble. I knew my gun would do no good against the ooze, so I pulled it from my belt and turned it on myself. It was too late. The thing erupted, covering my body in that filthy black ooze. Instantly, I froze in place. My knees were bent and my hands wrapped around the butt of my pistol holding it to my temple. My face was contorted in fear, turned to stone forever in a silent scream. 

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Icy Lake

Word Count: 9,773

It was a magnificently beautiful drive out into the country where we would spend the next couple of weeks away from civilization. A recent snowfall left the countryside covered with a soft, pure white blanket. This last storm was a heavy one which left some trees leaning in one direction from the weight of the billowy snow nestled in their branches.

Many farmers who tended the local fields lived on this secluded road, and together they came out and cleared the main route along with a few smaller roads. The snow, moved using tractors and other farm equipment, was packed to the side and created a five-foot wall. With the exception of these few places, the soft white blanket was untouched and pristine.

I was so glad to have the opportunity to drive out here with Cynthia, my wife of six months, and our two best friends Walter and Margret. The company for which I worked owned a luxury cabin deep in the woods past all of these farms at the top of a mountain. It was a place usually reserved for the executives, but due to my excellent performance recently drawing to the firm several large accounts, I was given two weeks off and access to the cabin for that time.

The cabin where we were going to stay was far from any cell towers, meaning we would have no cell connection the whole time we stayed here. The idea of spending time away from phones, television and the internet did give me a small amount of anxiety, but I was excited to be off the grid even if only for a short period of time.

It would be nice to cozy up to Cinthia in front of a warm fire, both of us covered under a warm blanket, and drinking hot buttered rum. The cabin had a fireplace in each of the three bedrooms, in addition to one in the den, the living room and in the game room. They functioned with either wood or gas, and there was a stack of split wood provided for us outside. With another couple in the house, we would have a private fire place away from them when we wanted one.

My car, or any one of our cars for that matter, never would have made it through the heavy snow that still concealed the ground. Knowing this, the firm rented me a large four-wheel drive off-road truck for my trip just in the case we did run into such weather. I am so glad they did, because the trip would be at an end hours ago if not. I still worried about our safety at first, but this huge monster seemed to have no trouble on the new snow fallen on the areas already cleared. I was sure once we passed the farmers’ roads the drive would be much worse, but I had confidence we would make it safely to our destination.

I was right in my assumption. When we reached the private road leading up to the cabin, the semi-cleared road ended. I now faced a gradual uphill climb in snow every bit of three feet deep. My friend told me not to attempt it; that we should turn around and go somewhere else, but after driving this beast for a few hours, I was sure it could easily make the climb.

There were a few times I thought I might get us stuck. Every time I heard the tires slip and spin on the snow, I thought that was it; we’re going to get stranded in this truck out here past the edge of any cell coverage. We made it through every time though. After a long, anxious hour of plowing this massive truck through the snow, we finally reached our destination.

I could hardly believe what I saw when we rounded the top of the hill. The cabin sat in the middle of a large opening with only the occasional tree here and there. Surrounding the area was a double ringed pathway of trees. What were possibly bushes were obscured by the snow and were nothing more than rounded bumps at the snow’s surface.

The cabin was absolutely incredible. It was a two-story rustic log structure. Large heavily insulated windows took the place of walls for half of the downstairs area as well as each bedroom upstairs having large windows and glass doors for the outer walls so occupants could look out over the beautiful landscape. I guess we did not really have to worry about privacy since the firm owned all the land for ten miles in every direction. Still, I hoped there were drapes or something to provide additional seclusion for when my wife and I wanted to be intimate.

It was a bit of work trudging a path from the truck to the cabin. I led the way and Walter followed, clearing as much as we could so that our wives would not have so much trouble. We were covered in snow up to our armpits by the time we got to the front door. I let the ladies in and my friend and I went back to get the luggage. It was very difficult to carry much with our narrow pathway, so it took us several trips to get everything inside.

Cynthia already had our room picked out by the time Walter and I were done, so I went straight up there to get out of my snow-caked clothing. I was quite shocked by how large the bedroom was. It had a king-sized bed. There was a poker table and five chairs, two couches and a loveseat, two very nice dressers and a vanity table. Six lamps spread about the room. Each one of them was of a different size but the same design. A table sat next to the massive window and door that made up the north wall. Various decorations were placed around the room with the skills of a professional decorator.

Adjacent to our room was a bathroom larger than my bedroom at home. The shower could comfortably accommodate six people, there were two toilets, and two sinks and mirrors. It even had a bidet’ directly between the toilets. This place was absolutely spectacular, and I thought I could really see me spending the rest of my life out here.

After a moment to take in all the luxury surrounding me, I got into the shower and removed my clothes. The snow began to melt a little, but most of it was still frozen. I dried myself a bit with a towel and redressed myself in some fresh clothes.

It was a long drive and everyone was famished from the ride. I promised them I would cook us dinner once we got here. I was tired and cooking was one of the last things I wanted to do now, but I made a promise.

Cynthia and I immediately started talking about our bedroom the moment I came down the stairs. Our friends joined in and we all took turns marveling over the beauty and luxury of this place. None of us ever stayed anywhere quite as upscale as this cabin. Unless I climbed high up the corporate ladder, this would probably be the last time I stayed somewhere like this.

I kept dinner simple and quick. Everyone was hungry, and I certainly did not want to cook anything fancy or difficult. I settled for hamburgers and home fries. We all ate rather quickly then retreated to another room.

One single dark stained wooden wall divided the downstairs lengthwise with an additional room at each end. It made me feel a little more comfortable knowing someone could not see straight through the building.

Two leather couches, a loveseat and four chairs lined the wall. The furniture was arranged in a slight semi-circle formation to encourage conversation, but they all faced the window well enough to have a pleasant view of the beautiful snow outside. A large fireplace built in with the windows crackled and popped while providing a soothing, warming radiation.

Even though it became dark hours ago, we could still see the outside rather well. The moon was almost full, illuminating the white snow, which in turn seemed to make it even brighter. It was definitely a sight to behold. I could not wait to see it in the daylight.

Eventually Cynthia and I said good night to our friends and climbed the curved staircase to our room. Even though we were still newlyweds, and our desire for each other stirred a bit, we were both too tired and stiff from the ride up here. We simply had to wait until tomorrow for that. Instead, we removed our clothes and climbed under the heavy down comforter covering the large bed. With Cynthia snuggled in my arms, we drifted off into a deep sleep.

I awoke to the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. I rolled over to look at Cynthia, but she was not there. I donned a bathrobe provided as another step in the luxury of the cabin and went downstairs to join her. I found Margaret was there with her. The two sipped their coffee and talked softly to one another so as not to wake us men.

When she saw me, Cynthia got up and gave me a kiss on the cheek. After bidding me a good morning, she went over to the counter and poured me a cup of coffee. My wife knew exactly how much cream and sugar I liked in my morning cup of joe, and she made it perfectly. I gave her a peck on the cheek – I had not yet brushed my teeth – and told her how much I loved her. She smiled, kissed me on the forehead and sat down beside me.

I was on my second cup of coffee before Walter came out of their bedroom and started down the stairs. He remarked on how well he slept the previous night. The beds were indeed unbelievably comfortable, and it was so quiet and serene.

Walter and I cooked breakfast as the four of us discussed what we would like to spend the day doing. Margaret suggested we stay in today. We did have the cabin for two weeks. I thought we should go outside today, and use tomorrow as a day to get warmed back up. After everyone shared their input, we decided to take a walk through the long grove of trees that surrounded most of the property. Under those tall evergreens, we did not need to worry about the snow being too deep. I imagine that was the reason for the specific design in the first place.

It was cold, and the wind was eerily calm. Snow continued to fall lightly, but we all adorned adequate clothing to protect us from the elements. It was nice not to have the wind blowing on us, but there seemed something spooky about it. Perhaps it was only the feeling of seclusion of being so far from any electronic devices and cell phones. I was not used to being off the grid and not having my phone when I needed it.

Initially I thought the trail between the evergreen trees would take a regular circular path around the cabin. Once we got to the trail and started walking, we found it contained many curves, some subtle and some rather sharp. In a few places we made right turns, only to find the trail turned back to its previous direction not more than a hundred feet ahead. I wanted to see down the length of the trail as the beautiful snow found its way between the treetops. Instead, I found at any given point we could see no more than two hundred feet before us.

Walter made a remark that he would like to see this walking path from a helicopter. I was in agreement. I wondered if the pathway formed a specific shape of some sort, or if this design was chosen for other reasons. We all found it a bit odd, almost like the gardener planting the trees was absolutely inebriated at the time.

This was one of the reasons I did not like being without my computer. I could look at detailed satellite images of the grounds if I had it with me. I would have to settle with looking at the specific shape of the tree lined walking path after my vacation was over.

It took us nearly two hours to complete the walk around the entire trail, and we were all more than ready to drink something hot in front of a roaring fire. I jumped, and Cynthia nearly crushed my hand when a high-pitched shriek pierced through the still air, followed by a thunderous cracking sound. We all remained silent for at least a minute as we looked around for what could cause such a haunting sound.

Finally, I broke the silence by asking if anyone knew what that was. It was a rhetorical question, as I knew they had no more an idea of what it was than I did. I suggested the high-pitched shriek may have come from a bird of some sort, a screech owl perhaps. That still left the question of the giant cracking sound. Eventually we managed to console ourselves with the idea the bird let out a screech immediately before a large tree fell over and cracked.

I don’t think any of us really believed that, but it was enough to make us feel at ease. This idea seemed plausible enough. Even if it was not an owl and a tree, there must be dozens of things that could explain the noises. It could be something as simple as a loud bird causing a small avalanche in the loose snow somewhere.

After getting changed, I got some milk heating for hot cocoa while Walter moved the two couches closer to the fireplace in the main room. I made four hot mugs of the chocolatey drink and carried them over to the others. Once I gave the other couple their cups, I gave Cynthia hers, slid the tray under the couch, and joined her under a plush blanket. None of us said anything for a little while. We all sipped our drinks and stared at the fire.

I pointed out the fire was burning down, so I got up to get some more firewood. Walter offered to help, and we got a large stack of wood inside in no time. I flattened out the coals a bit and added more fuel. It popped and cracked a lot, so I closed the screen around the fireplace to help protect the building from being burned.

It was only a few hours after noon, but this time of year the sun would be down in only a few more hours. Once we were all warmed back up, we decided to find a game we would all like to play out of the large selection provided. It was not hard to find one out of all of them available that we all liked. Everyone else got the table ready as I heated up more milk for some cocoa.

It was snowing outside rather hard by the time I got our drinks to the table. The sun was not fully set, but the snow obscured enough light to make it dark outside. I discovered a large, fully stocked freezer, so halfway through our game I threw a frozen lasagna in the oven.

Following dinner, my wife and I retreated to our room. I did not care if there was no one else around for miles, I closed both the blinds and curtains to obscure the large window that made up most of the north wall. Tonight, we were both in a romantic mood, and unlike the previous night when we went to bed and went right to sleep, we were well rested and had plenty of energy.

I turned around to find Cynthia lying naked in the large bed. She hit me with a seductive glare, gave me a long look at her perky breasts, then pulled the plush comforter over her body. I would prefer to make love to her above the covers, but it was a bit cold in our room. I let the wood fire burn out and did not light the gas burners before we went out on our walk, so the temperature was a little below comfortable.

I quickly slipped off my clothes and climbed under the comforter. Pulling my wife close, I began gently kissing her neck. The bed was so incredibly comfortable, I think it made the experience that much better. Being in such a luxurious place surrounded by a winter wonderland probably did its part as well. We were still newlyweds, and our sex life was great, but tonight we achieved a whole new level of ecstasy.

When we met, we were both regular smokers. We made a vow to one another that we would give up cigarettes before we got married, which we did successfully. The one time that we did allow ourselves a single cigarette was for after lovemaking like we experienced tonight. Both of us got in our soft, white bathrobes and took a seat by the window. I opened the curtains and blinds enough to get the window cracked open a bit. Sitting by the cold window so as not to smell up the whole room, we smoked our cigarettes as we looked at each other flirtingly. We were halfway done smoking when it happened.

A loud screech, just like the one we heard earlier in the day, tore through the quiet winter night. It was so loud, Cynthia and I jumped away from the window. I couldn’t tell how far away it was, but it sounded very close. I could not even say from which direction the terrifying screech came. All I could say is it was loud and sudden.

Less than a minute later, there was a hard, rapid knock at our door. It was Walter and Margret. The door was all the way across the room, so I hollered for them to come in. They entered with panic-stricken faces. Walter asked in between heavy breaths if we heard the noise, and I told him we most assuredly did. I never saw Walter acting quite like this, like a terrified little child wanting in the safety of mommy and daddy’s bed. That was when he informed me the noise came from right outside their room. They had the glass door open to allow in some fresh air when the thing cried out in the darkness. They hastily closed and locked the door, then came straight to our room.

I continued to suggest it was a screech owl. I heard them before. They were surprisingly loud, but they really did not sound like this. Perhaps it was another subspecies of owl. It was very hard to describe, as it sounded like nothing I ever heard before.

I went downstairs and made us some decaf coffee to drink as we allowed our nerves to settle. All four of us sat in my and Cynthia’s room for well over an hour before we all started to get sleepy. Margret and Walter were too scared to go back and sleep in their room. Instead, I helped Walter pull the two couches together face to face and Cynthia got them some pillows and blankets from one of the oversized closets.

Cynthia and I both had our concealed carry permits, and we each set our pistols on the end tables so they could be ready at a moment’s notice. Walter retrieved a short barrel shotgun that was stored downstairs with multiple other hunting firearms, loaded it with three shells and set several more in the chair he pulled close to the couches.

Nothing else strange happened during the night, but none of us got much sleep. After a quick breakfast, our friends retired to their room and we to ours. Exhausted and with our bellies full, it was not difficult to get back to sleep. My wife and I slept well past noon, and our friends did not get up until an hour after that.

The snow was falling heavily, so we stayed inside and played a few games. Margret made us some cocktails as we had fun in the warmth of being inside. We played games, talked and had a few drinks. None of us mentioned the subject of what happened last night. I think everyone was waiting for someone else to bring it up.

Two more nights passed and nothing out of the ordinary happened. We heard no strange screeching throughout the night. The only thing we heard was the wind as it picked up speed during the evenings. Everyone was finally getting past the fear at night of whatever could be making such a horrific sound.

On the fifth day, the air was still, the sun was shining some, and the temperature was one degree below freezing. It seemed like a nice winter day, so we opted to do some cross-country skiing. We really did not get to see much of the grounds from our oddly crafted walking trail, therefore we thought this would be a better way to see the beauty of the estate. Given recent events, we thought it wise not to leave ourselves unprotected.

Cynthia and I both carried the pistols we always carried. In addition to that, Walter had the shotgun, the wives had two smaller rifles, and I carried over my shoulder a high-powered deer hunting rifle. All four of us had training in firearms and were aware of all the protocols and safety measures, so we felt confident in our ability to use the guns properly if it was ever necessary. I did not know what we expected to encounter, but what if anything it was, we would be ready.

The grounds the firm owned were vast indeed. The cabin in which we stayed was at the top of a gently sloping mountain. Once past the walkway of trees, the land opened up to a wide plane with a gradual slope. Far up ahead, judging by the way the trees fell below the horizon, it looked like the terrain might drop. Our other options were through a forest to the left or toward a frozen lake to our right. We decided to come back to the lake later with our skates, leaving the long trek toward the drop off as our final option.

The sun was shining brightly which almost felt like a heat lamp against our dark clothing. There was virtually no wind to speak of, and the freshly fallen snow was smooth and beginning to pack. The surface was perfect for today’s activity. I joked that we looked like a bunch of yeti hunters dressed like we were, all of us packing heat. We seemed like something out of a cheesy horror flick. I guess no one else found the humor in that, as I was the only one to laugh at my joke.

I regretted my little jest after I saw the looks on the faces of my wife and the others. It was several nights ago we last heard that horrible screech, but my joke apparently brought it back to the forefront of everyone’s minds. I felt bad as it seemed I ruined everyone’s good time. No one said anything for the next thirty minutes. Instead, we all kept a close eye on our surroundings. We intentionally stayed out in the wide open when we started today’s adventure so as to avoid any places from which something might surprise us. Even that did not stop us from keeping an eye out for anything out of the ordinary.

Walter finally broke the silence when he pointed out the treetops appearing from behind the increasing slope. We continued on until we could see the grade of the hill increase much more abruptly. By the look of it, if we continued much further, we would find ourselves going down a steep hill into a forest. All of us agreed this would be a good point at which to turn back toward the cabin.

The conversation finally resumed as we followed our tracks through the snow back to the warm cabin. Everyone was careful to avoid the subject of the screeching or of anything eluding as to what the sound might be. We almost sounded like two unfamiliar couples in a waiting room talking to pass the time without really saying much at all.

I began making a batch of chili shortly after our return. I thought that would be something hot and heavy, good for returning from being out in the cold. As I got our meal started, Margret selected a bottle of red wine from a fully stocked cellar. After a minute of struggling with the corkscrew, she finally popped the cork and poured each of us a glass. We were on our second glass before everyone began to loosen up again. By the time dinner was ready, we were almost finished with our second bottle.

Following another bottle of wine with our meal, we were all giddy and laughing after we finished eating. We were all rather weary from the day’s exercise, and the wine and heavy meal did all but knock us out. It was still rather early, but we retired to our rooms anyway. Cynthia and I shared a nice hot shower together before climbing into the large comfortable bed for the night.

It snowed most of the next day, so we all decided this would be a good time to stay in the warmth of the cabin and enjoy the luxuries inside. Most of the day we spent reading, talking or staring at the roaring fireplace. We started to play a board game at one point but did not get far into it before we grew bored with it. Quite frankly, we all had a bit too much to drink last night and playing a game did not set well with the moderate hangovers to which we awoke.

The next morning everyone woke up feeling refreshed and well rested. The sky was nice and clear, and we thought this would be the perfect day for going ice skating out on the frozen lake. We did not get a very good view of it when we were on our cross country hike a few days ago, but it looked like it was a rather large lake. We gathered our skates, dressed in layers to keep us warm, donned our snow shoes and started off toward the location of today’s recreation.

The lake was a little farther away than we estimated, and it took us nearly forty-five minutes to reach it. It was indeed quite large. There was a nice small area rather free of snow that we reached first, but the lake itself extended a hundred yards before making a turn into a forest. None of us was any sort of professional skater, so this small area closest to the cabin was just right for us.

We had fun playing around on the ice for several hours before we realized how worn out we were. Playing tag on the ice was most enjoyable and made us feel like little kids again, but we expended a lot more energy than we realized. We got out of our skates, into our snowshoes and headed back to the cabin. The walk back seemed twice as long as the walk here because our legs were exhausted from overdoing it with the skating.

We were still five minutes from the cabin when we heard that unholy shriek rip through the still air like a jagged blade. All of us dropped what we were carrying and readied our firearms. This time I could tell the sound came from the direction of the lake. If I were to guess I would say it probably came from the forest that partially encircled the larger part of the lake. It did not sound like it came from the area we just left. The haunting screech sounded much further away than that.

The four of us stood with our weapons ready scanning the horizon for anything, anything at all out of the ordinary. I could not say how long we stood like that, but eventually Walter told Margret and Cynthia to go inside. My wife began to put up a protest, but when I agreed with Walter, both women went into the house.

We again attempted to speculate what could be causing such a terrifying noise, but neither of us had a clue what it could be. This was louder than any owl I ever heard, and it did not sound like any other form of natural wildlife either. This is when we began to wonder if we were dealing with something outside of the natural, something supernatural.

My friend and I decided that was enough. We had some fun while we were out here, but it was not worth the terror this thing was causing us just to stay for another week. We decided we would leave for home in the morning, not wanting to attempt that drive in the dark. Several feet of snow fell since our arrival a week ago, so we knew the road was going to be worse than before.

The ladies were waiting in the small sitting area immediately inside the front doors. We no sooner entered the cabin when our wives informed us, they had enough fun and were ready to return home. I was glad we were all on the same page with this one.

The third bedroom of the cabin had two queen sized beds, rather than a single king sized like the other two bedrooms. We decided to sleep in there tonight. We did not get any privacy to speak of, but we all felt more comfortable in a room together than separated by a thick wooden wall. We had every firearm in the house in the room with us, including our own personal handguns. If something natural or unnatural tried to get us, we would put up a hell of a fight.

It was around two in the morning when we were awoken by the deafening sound of metal twisting. It did not last long, but it was astonishingly loud. Walter and I each threw on a jacket, picked up a shotgun and went running down the stairs. I handed Cynthia my pistol before getting out of the bed.

When we got to the front door, neither one of us could believe our eyes. The heavy-duty pickup truck we used to drive up to this cursed place was tossed over and nearly standing on its end. The frame of the vehicle was twisted from front to back. Something, this screeching thing, not only had the strength to lift the truck, it warped the frame as easily as a child might twist a lump of clay.

Suddenly the guns we had in our hands felt absolutely useless. Anything that could do such damage to a large and sturdy vehicle like that would probably not even notice a blast from one of these shotguns. We silently watched out through the wall of windows for I could not say how long. I do not know how much longer we would continue to stand there and scan the snow outside, but one of our wives made the “psst” noise at us from above.

That snapped us out of our temporary state of shock. Walter and I ran back up the stairs and told our wives to gather up as many blankets and pillows as they could and get them to the basement. Walter helped me gather up all of our firearms and ammunition which we carried down as we remained alert and protective of the women.

I told them just to toss the bedding to the first floor and we could gather it from there. It would take too many trips up and down the stairs to get everything, and I did not want to waste any more time than we absolutely had to waste. Walter checked the gun cabinets and gathered up all the ammunition he could as I helped Cynthia and Margret get the bedding tossed down into the basement.

I had them help me gather up what food and water we could. The three of us met Walter at the base of the stairs. After closing the door behind us, Walter and I began to look for anything heavy and sturdy we could use to barricade the door, not like that really even mattered.

I asked Cynthia to take an inventory of our food supplies while Walter and I separated the ammunition for the individual weapons.

Margret began trembling and flailing her hands, then started screaming “What is it? What is it?” over and over.

Walter jumped to his feet and took her in his arms tightly. It was at this point I realized we never told them what we saw outside. Instead, we had them start gathering supplies and hiding in the basement.

Margret was now crying on Walter’s shoulder, and I told her we still did not know what it was. We never saw anything. I hesitated before I told them about the truck.

“But, but, but how are we g-going to get out of here-er?” Margret asked through her sobs.

I did not know. I was flat and honest with her and told her that I did not know. The snowfall over the last week surely filled back in the path we plowed through the snow on our way up here. We knew the ways behind the cabin either led to a forest, an impassable decline, or the lake encircled by another forest. Without our truck, the only way we were going to get out of here was on skis or snowshoes.

It was cold down in the basement, but we did find several kerosene space heaters. The blankets and pillows helped a lot. Unfortunately, we were in bed sleeping when this happened. I at least wore boxers and an undershirt with the jacket I threw on. Walter did not even have on the shirt. Our wives wore robes, with nothing but under garments on beneath them. We went from total comfort to huddling together for heat.

We stayed down there for a little over an hour and did not hear anything else. Now that we had a little time to calm down, I told Walter and Margret to try to get a few more hours sleep. I would wake them up later and take a few hours for Cynthia and I to sleep. We would try to figure out what we were going to do then.

Margret, exhausted from crying and nestled in her husband’s arms fell back to sleep rather quickly; although, I was not sure if Walter ever went to sleep himself. He laid there with his eyes closed holding his wife, but I never heard him snore or anything else to indicate he was sleeping.

When it came turn for my wife and I to take a chance at a few more hours of sleep, we had no difficulty dozing off. We finally warmed up wrapped in a comforter and several blankets. The stress and anxiety of the last few hours took its toll on us and we were out in no time.

When Walter finally woke us up, it was almost eight in the morning. He told us they heard nothing unusual during their time of keeping watch for the group. I really hoped that meant whatever this thing was, was gone. I hoped that, but I did not believe it. Each time this thing revealed itself, it did so with significant time gaps. This told me whatever the screeching thing was, it resided here in these mountains. Perhaps it lived exclusively in this area.

Having left all of our clothes upstairs, we began to search the large basement for something to put on to keep us warm. Walking around wrapped in blankets was not cutting it. We had to find some better way of keeping warm or we would not live long enough to figure out how to escape.

Margret found a heap of clothing behind one of the many wine racks which occupied the basement. It seemed odd that, in a house so well kept and organized as this one, there would be a heap of clothes thrown in a back corner like this. We did not take too much time pondering the discovery of the clothes before we started putting on everything that fit.

I was slipping on a pair of insulated snow-pants when I felt something inside one of the pockets. Reaching in, I pulled out a small, leather-bound notebook. It was not much bigger than two by three inches in dimension, and probably only fifty pages thick. I flipped through the pages quickly and saw it was about two thirds full. The writing was small, but not too small so as to be difficult to read. It looked like someone was trying to fit as much information inside the tiny booklet as they could.

As the others continued to try to put on as much clothing as they could, I began reading the first few pages of the notebook. The author was a guest at this cabin along with five others with whom he worked. All of their names were listed and the author indicated who was married or otherwise in a relationship with another of the guests.

Their trip started much like our own. They were awarded two weeks at this cabin for the exemplary work they performed at the company with which they were employed. The name of the company was not listed, so I did not know if it was the same firm for which Walter and I both worked.

The author described the screeching with which we were far too familiar beginning on the third day of their trip. It was clear they were every bit as afraid of that sound as we were. This group was unable to flee because the vehicle they arrived in could not get through the snow that fell over the course of their first three days here.

When scouting possible escape routes, the group discovered the same thing we did. It was impossible to go down the steep slope, and the forest and lake areas provided too much concealment for whatever was stalking us. We were unaware of this until now, but there were sheer rock faces on either side of the road leading up here according to this notebook. If that was the case, we would not be going down that way either. Our only hope was to either take the road that brought us here, flee into the forest or try to make it out of here on the icy lake.

At the top of the third page was the date. This entry was made January 12, 1964. That was nearly sixty years ago.

I continued reading the notes and my blood ran cold when I reached page six. Here the author describes the first casualty. No one saw what happened. They all heard the terrifying screeching noise and a crash. The next thing they knew one of their members was gone, but his clothes remained behind. Suddenly I realized we were probably wearing clothes people died in. I kept this bit of information to myself.

Two days later came the second death. This time three of the survivors saw what happened. The deep snow erupted directly behind one of the vacationers. The author described it as jellyfish like, but with three wings spaced equally around the body. The author went on to explain it had more of an elongated shape rather than being round like a jellyfish. Its body was transparent and was an almost sky-blue color. The creature engulfed the unfortunate man. The thing began to vibrate until it reached a certain resonance. At this time a deafening screech radiated from the thing. The man it engulfed quickly dissolved and became a part of the blue mass.

I tried not to show my distress, but Cynthia could definitely tell something was wrong. I could not hide the fact this disturbed me deeply. She asked me what it was, but I told her to please let me finish reading it and I would explain it to them.

One by one the vacationers were consumed by this massive creature. Then, out of the blue, the author mentions a book he found out in one of the storage sheds when he was looking for something to provide some heat. The book was hundreds of years old, but talked about the exact kinds of things happening. It described a creature from beyond the stars that, with many other super powerful beings, made Earth their home millions of years ago. The only way to keep these demi-gods appeased was to feed them, to offer them sacrifices.

That’s what we were. We were nothing but sacrifices the firm sent out here. I could not fathom what the situation with the firm was. I began to speculate it was nothing more than a cover, a front for some dark and secret group or fraternal order. I worked my tail off for them, and they rewarded me by using me by sending me off to my death.

I told the others what I read in the notebook. Very hesitantly I explained how the people in this other group died. I really felt I should keep that information to myself, but Walter, Margret and Cynthia had a right to know what we were up against. I did not want to scare them any more than they already were, but they needed to know what we were facing.

Gathering together our weapons seemed pointless after this new revelation, but we gathered them anyway and filled our pockets with the corresponding ammunition. The author of the little notebook never said anything about guns, so they may not have even tried using firearms against this thing.

There was only one way we thought we might get off this mountain and away from this eons-old beast not of this world. We were going to have to use the cross-country skis and go back down the road that brought us up here. There simply appeared there was no other way we were getting down from this mountain. We loaded several backpacks with food and bottled water before leaving behind the protection of the cabin.

Cynthia and Margret got their first look at the truck when we stepped outside. Walter and I got our first good look at it in the clear light of the morning. It stood on its back end with the twisted look of a licorice whip. The thought of facing something that could take a two-ton truck and do this was more than overwhelming. Walter tried keeping our wives’ attention focused on something else, anything but the twisted wreckage.

I got the chills, and not from the cold, when we passed through the pathway of trees we walked during our first day here. Now I could not help but wonder if the odd shape of that trail created an occult symbol of sorts. Something deep inside of me told me walking that path was what started this all for us.

For the most part the descent was gradual and easy to manage. There were some parts that made us put our weapons around our shoulders and use our ski-poles to keep our balance as we transverse steeper, more difficult terrain.

We seemed to be making good time. I estimated we traveled slightly over ten miles in the first two hours. I was not sure how long this private road was, but I was sure we would make it out to the farmers’ road long before nightfall. That at least appeared to have regular traffic, and it was our hope we could find someone to drive us away from this place.

Shortly after that, everyone stopped and glanced around at everyone else in a panic. We all felt the low-humming vibration in our feet and legs. I think we all knew exactly what was about to happen. The biggest question on my mind at this precise moment was, who was it going to happen to.

The snow behind Walter erupted like a geyser. The rest of us were petrified the instant we saw what it was. The horrific thing had a body shaped more like an ear of corn. It had two wings pointing to the top and two wings pointing to the bottom of its body. Rather than flapping, the gelatinous wings flowed like membranes in the water. Its transparent, icy-blue body was horrendously beautiful and ungodly terrifying.

The gelatinous body unfurled and opened up creating what looked like a giant maw twenty feet in diameter. The top of the giant mouth had what resembled needle-like teeth about an inch in length, but the closer to the center of the body the maw got, the longer the teeth became. The thorny teeth again reduced in size as they reached the bottom of the mouth. Moving so fast, we did not even have time to think, the widespread maw wrapped around and engulfed Walter.

The loose snow began to dance at the surface as the vibrations began to build. The creature’s body began to ripple as it built up power. Suddenly a screech so loud it literally threw us to the ground came from the monstrous thing. I looked up in time to see the look of terror on Walter’s face before his body dissolved and became part of the blue mass. A few seconds later it expelled his clothing, guns and anything that was not human flesh. In less than two seconds, it flew thirty feet into the air, then reversed course and plunged directly into the snow.

Margret began to scream. She could not get up because of the way she fell, so she began to frantically start unlatching her skis. I kept telling her not to do that. I told her I was coming to help. Without the skis to distribute her weight, there was a good chance she could fall down into the deep snow. Before Margret removed both her skis, Cynthia reached her. Cynthia helped Margret get her other ski back on and helped her stand.

As fast as she could, as fast as all of us could, we shuffled along the snowy surface until we reached where all of Walter’s possessions were discarded. Margret dropped to her knees in tears. We all watched this thing consume Walter in a matter of seconds. I was so terrified; it was hard to think. I could not believe we watched this thing from another world digest my best friend and spit his belongings back onto the ground.

Cynthia and I allowed Margret a couple of minutes to mourn, but we knew we had to keep going if we were ever going to escape this thing. My wife shook Margret by the shoulders a few times to try to get her to come out of the state of shock she was in after watching her husband melt away inside the unholy thing. When that did not work, Cynthia gave her a few gentle slaps on the cheek. This was enough to rouse Margret from her shock and grief sufficiently enough to get her to listen.

Margret did not want to leave, and I explained there was absolutely nothing she could do for Walter now except to survive. I had to get Margret to understand her husband would not want her to die like he did. This thing could be lurking about anywhere as it appeared to have the ability to move through the snow unhindered. Perhaps it used those strange membranous wings to pull itself through the deeply packed snow.

This was when I noticed the spot from where it emerged and again disappeared below the surface appeared completely undisturbed. If it were not for my friend’s belongings lying on the ground, I would not believe anything was ever there, that anything ever happened. It did not make sense how something that large could burst forth from then dive back into the snow and leave no trace of it ever being there.

As I stared at the apparently untouched snow, Cynthia motioned for me to come help her with Margret. We grabbed her under the arm and lifted her to a standing position. I took her by the chin and told her she had to come with us. I was not going to leave her behind to freeze to death, or worse. I did not know if she was hearing me, so I said it again then asked if she understood. Feebly she nodded her head. I picked up Walter’s wedding ring and placed it in Margret’s hand. She took one last look at his things scattered on the ground and we were once again headed down the slowly sloping, snow-covered road.

A couple of hours later we rounded a bend and I could see where the trees lining the road widened into a field. This must mean we were close to the farm area we passed on the way in. Surely the people here could help us. They somehow managed to live and work so incredibly close to this unholy thing but not be subjected to its hunger.

We picked up the pace a bit when we saw this in an attempt to get off the firm’s property up here in the mountains. All we had to do now was find a farmhouse close by and we believed we would be safe. In twenty more minutes, we arrived where the forest opened up for what we thought was a field. Standing there, our shoulders drooping from desperation, we could not believe what we saw. The three of us stood there at the edge of a frozen lake.

We passed no such lake on our way in, and we certainly did not pass any turnoffs on our way back down. This had to be the way we came in, but the fences lining the farms were not present. The snowy road simply ended as it reached the frozen water’s edge. Turning around was not an option. It would take us forever to hike back up that long sloping road in cross-country skis. We could possibly make our way across the surface of the lake, but we always faced the threat of the ice cracking and giving way underneath us. Our third option was to stay on land, and work our way around the lake staying as close to the edge as we could.

This turned out to be much more difficult a task than anticipated, so we chose to move across the lake. Staying fairly close to the land where the ice was the most solid, we tried to make our trek as straight of one as we could. A straighter route meant a quicker journey. At this point we had no idea of where we were going, but the quicker we got away from that cabin and its surrounding land, the better.

It began to snow on us as we rounded a large bend. We had to take a small detour around what I first thought was a six-foot-tall mound of snow. When we got a little closer, I saw it was in fact a circular stack of large ice chunks. It looked like something burst out of the center of the ring throwing huge pieces of ice out of its way. By the look of it, it happened more than once. I wondered if this could be the crashing sound we heard, but that came from the other side of the firm’s property.

The sun was getting close to setting, and we could see lights up ahead. We finally found one of the farm houses out here. I never felt such a sense of relief as I did when I spotted that domicile off in the distance.

It was thoroughly dark by the time we reached the other end of the lake, and none of us brought a flashlight with us. Even our cell phones were in the twisted wreck that was once our truck. We reached the edge of the lake, and we had probably twenty more minutes before we reached the house with its illuminated windows.

Margret then Cynthia began to sob, and I lost my last glimmer of hope of making it out of this situation. The falling snow obscured our view of the house too much until now when we were about ten or twelve minutes away. It could not be possible. I felt like I was going to vomit. We approached a nice log cabin with a glass wall along one side, and a twisted pick-up truck out in front. We traveled downhill in one direction, but here we were standing in front of the cabin in which we stayed for a week.

Was it possible this whole estate was a prison with no way out?

The whole time in our attempt to escape, we dropped lower and lower in elevation, so this should not be possible. It was as if when we reached one end of the property, we ended up at the opposite side. This place was circular and I truly felt at this point there was going to be no escape. There would only be hiding in fear until death came one way or another.

When the ground began to vibrate deeply, all three of us knew what was about to happen next. Cynthia was leading the way, I was following the rear, and Margret was in the center. Knowing it would do us no good, we still tried to pick up our pace. Suddenly the ground erupted in front of my wife and there was that ice blue gelatinous pillar; its wings flowing in the air with a fluid rippling motion that was almost hypnotic.

The creature began to unfurl its body, and before I knew it Margret leapt forward and knocked Cynthia to the ground. The ancient beast engulfed Margret with its massive maw and drew her into its body. It began to vibrate, but it never let out the horrible shriek. Instead, it released a low hum before spitting out our friend’s belongings. This time it did not immediately plunge back into the snow. It hovered in place, released a large, colorless, crystal onto the ground. Only then did it dive back into the deep snow.

I rushed over to Cynthia as fast as I could and helped her back to her feet. Tears ran down her red cheeks, freezing when they hit the rim of her hood. I really did not know what to say to her other than to hurry and get back inside the cabin. This thing always seemed to attack outside. Perhaps if we stayed inside long enough, we could wait out the snow. It was my last hope that this thing would not be mobile once the ground thawed.

We were no more than twenty feet away from the door of the cabin. Cynthia was in front and I stayed as closely as I could behind her when the creature burst from the snow. My wife turned back to me with a look I never before saw on her face. It was a look of sorrow, despair and hopelessness. She told me she loved me and to get in the cabin as quickly as I could before she lunged toward the beast. It unfurled its maw and drew Cynthia into its body in an instant.

I screamed in horror as the thing let out a low hum before totally dissolving my wife’s body right there in front of my eyes. As it dropped another large, teardrop shaped crystal to the ground, I tried to leap at the thing. The unearthly being dove back into the snow before I could reach it, leaving everything my wife carried behind.

I dropped to my knees and sobbed. I could not believe Cynthia was gone. Removing my gloves, I picked up my wife’s wedding band and slid it onto my left pinky adjacent to my own ring. For how long I sat there crying, I could not say. It felt like hours, but it could be minutes. Eventually I stood back up and made it the last ten feet to the door.

I stood inside the entrance room staring out the window until the sun began to rise. All I could think about was that look on Cynthia’s face the moment before she gave herself to that thing. She sacrificed herself so I could make it to the cabin.

That was it. I finally understood. I retrieved the small notebook I found in this jacket. It did not take me long to find a pen, and I sat down and began to write.

Starting with the date, I explained quickly what happened to my friends and eventually to my wife.

‘Leave now, if it is not already too late. If that thing has you trapped in this frozen hell, it is going to get you eventually. I know that is not what you want to hear, but it is the truth. You were sent here as a sacrifice to this being by the firm. I do not know who they really are, and why they offer sacrifices to this eons old creature. All I can tell you is this. It is not enough for the thing to feed on those brought here. The sacrifice must be willing.

‘I believe the firm wants the crystal produced when the creature feeds on willing sacrifices. If you heard the unholy beast’s screech, you are probably already trapped. I offer you this advice. Offer yourselves willingly to this thing. Perhaps if the firm obtains enough of these crystals, it will not need to send as many people here to die.

‘I leave this notebook where I hope you find it, but hope those from the firm do not. Add to it anything you discover in your own dealings with the beast. Now, I go to join my wife and friends.

‘May God save your souls from that demon from the icy lake.’

Copyright 2022 ©

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The Village

Word Count: 5,282

The heavy rain pounded hard on my poncho, which did rather little to keep me dry. I did not bother to check the weather before deciding to go on a hike alone this morning. The sun was shining beautifully and there was not a single cloud in the sky when I left my house. I happened to have a cheap drugstore poncho in my backpack I purchased some time ago. The plastic was quite thin and flaws in the seals allowed the cold water to seep in leaving me with cold wet spots. 

I found a rather sizable nook at the base of the trunk of an impressively large tree which helped keep some of the pounding rain off of me. I crouched down so the meager plastic barrier would help keep my feet from getting soaked, which turned out to be a futile endeavor. I kept by back up against the tree trunk to somewhat help keep the rain off of me. Watching the downpour wash sticks and leaves on the ground in developing water flows, I wondered how long this was going to last. 

I parked my car and started my hike just after eight o’clock in the morning. I was making good time when the wind suddenly began to blow cold. Right then I should have turned around, but I ignored the warning and continued my hike. The wind only blew for a half hour or less, but the clouds closed in on me quickly. I saw no lightening, so I did not worry. That was a terrible miscalculation. 

For two hours I sat there hunkered down in that flimsy rain barrier waiting for the pounding torrent to stop. Finally, it began to let up. It continued to rain a little, but at least the worst of it seemed to pass. I got back up and started to head back to the trail when I realized I was not sure what direction it was. The downpour moved the stick and leaves covering the ground and obscured the already faint trail I followed to get here. 

Without the sun shining in the sky, I was not sure which direction was which. I did not bother bringing a compass along because I was always rather adept at finding my way guided by the sun. I was not expecting bad weather and not being able to accurately locate the sun. 

I wished I took one of the more widely used trails around here, those were more heavily worn and easiest to spot, but I wanted to be off the heavily beaten path. There was a lot more privacy in the less frequently used trails, but there was also a lot smaller a chance of encountering help if necessary. A big problem was these smaller trails, many of them animal trails, were that they were a lot less obvious, especially after a rainstorm like that. I thought I remembered finding the nook in the tree after I approached it, so I was somewhat confident I knew which direction to go. 

As the light rain continued to fall, the cold snap that came right before the storm finally passed. The weather was still dreary, but at least it was not quite so chilly. It was bad enough all I had was this cheap plastic garment to keep me dry, or fail to keep me dry. Being wet made being cold so much worse. I hoped the warm air meant the rain was going to stop, but I was sadly disappointed. 

The rain continued to fall, although very lightly, as I tried to figure my way back to my car. I walked for more than an hour and came to an area where the trail divided in the center of three large hills. I began to panic a bit when I saw this. I know I passed nothing like this on the way in. I walked for more than an hour in a wrong direction. I would have to turn around and try to backtrack to my previous location. Luckily, I kicked around some small piles of sticks and leaves as I walked, just for something to do, and it was rather easy to trace my way back to a point. 

This is when I encountered another unfortunate obstacle, I was almost halfway back when I reached an area hit with a flow of water after I passed. My markers of stirred up sticks and leaves were gone. I was really beginning to regret the idea of going out for a nature walk. I am not a super experienced hiker, but I spent my share of time in the wilderness. I should know to check the weather before I set out on a trip like this, especially when I was going all by myself. 

I was not sure what time it was, but it had to be getting late. Either the cloud cover was growing heavier or the sun was close to setting. Neither one was a good sign. I walked much slower now, looking for something I might recognize. Finally, I felt a sense of relief. I spotted the tree under which I hid from the initial downpour. With a little more pep back in my stride, I made my way over to the tree. I was sure I could figure out the right direction back to my starting point now. 

My heart nearly stopped when I got close enough to the tree to realize it was the wrong one. I slouched forward in despair and held myself up with my hands on my knees. I began to tremble. I don’t know if it was because of the cold, exhaustion or anxiety, but my hands and shoulders were trembling. 

The rain became nothing but a light drizzle, so I removed my backpack from under my poncho and tossed it against the tree. I had no idea what I was going to do. I looked around with a bit of desperation for the tree I thought I found, but I saw no other trees with trunks this large. By now I lost track of how much time I was walking. It was going to be dark soon. This was supposed to be a relaxing couple of hours of hiking around a new area. I wasn’t supposed to get lost. I am a fairly experienced woodsman. I should be able to find my way back to my nice, dry, comfortable car. 

I stood back up, took a few deep breaths and did a few stretches. I had to calm myself down so I could make it out of these forested hills and back to civilization before dark. I did not want to get caught out here, I really did not want to get caught out here after dark. I only had one small flashlight with me. I did not plan on being out this long so I did not bring either one of my good, heavy-duty flashlights. If I had to guess, I would say the little one I had would last for an hour, maybe two before it went dead. The clouds were still heavy overhead, so even if it was a full moon tonight, I would still be in absolute darkness. 

Gathering my wits about me, I tried to think. I spent plenty of time in the woods during my life. Certainly, I could find my way back out. I just had to think. I tried to come up with something that would help. Then I realized, when I was following that first trail, I wound between the hills, I did not walk up or down any of them. That gave me a good start. I looked around and took note of the location of the nearby hills. After thinking about it for a few minutes, I decided there could only be one of two ways to get back to where I was parked. 

The rain stopped, so I had that going for me. It appeared the heavy cloud cover was going nowhere any time soon. Removing the plastic poncho, I shook as much water off as I could and wadded it up in my hand. Throwing my backpack over one shoulder, I began walking. There were two possible routes back to my starting point as far as I could figure. I chose the one of which I was most sure and started along my way. 

About an hour after setting off this last time, the day grew late and the light grew dim. Getting lost in the woods at night was not something I wanted to do, especially since it was cold and wet. If it got too dark, my best bet would be to wait until morning to find my way out. That would mean being outside in hiking clothes and shoes both still wet throughout the cold night without any dry ground upon which to sleep. That was not an option I wanted to have to take. 

I soon realized I had no idea where I was going. Nothing looked familiar. I could be walking around in circles at this point for all I knew. I was about to let my body slump to the ground when I spotted a glimmer of hope. I might be going the wrong way, but deep through the woods I could see the light of multiple windows. I might not have found my car, but I did find civilization after all. 

The lights were far off in the distance, and less than an hour after spotting them it was absolutely dark. I used the windows to keep my direction and walked slowly and carefully. After nearly tripping and falling on my face, I got out the little flashlight I had and used it to help me avoid dangerous obstacles. It was only bright enough to shine immediately in front of my feet, but it was better than nothing. Even with this, it took me an hour to near the sources of light. 

I was not sure how many houses there were, but I could make out at least five. It looked like I found a small neighborhood set back in the woods a bit for privacy and seclusion. I probably wasn’t far from a major highway at all since the people who lived here had to get to the stores. Perhaps someone here could give me a ride back to my car, so I could get home and take a well desired hot shower. 

My flashlight died on me only moments before I saw two figures emerge from between two of the buildings. I was close now, and if my light were working, they would no doubt have seen me. One of them carried a lantern, an antique oil lantern. Both of the men were dressed in outdated garments. One appeared to be wearing clothing from the colonial era, and the other man’s clothes were reminiscent of the garments of the 1920’s. I immediately found this quite odd and kept quiet until the two men disappeared between two other buildings. Something did not seem right here at all, so I decided I should be stealthy and use caution until I knew where I was and what was going on. 

I walked toe to heel to help soften the sounds of my footfalls and made my way to the closest building. This building was clearly a home. I could see through the kitchen window. It appeared to have all of the modern conveniences. There was a toaster, a refrigerator and even a microwave. 

Cautiously I made my way to the end of the building, to the gap where the two men emerged not long ago. I was confused when I saw the second house up close. It was an old cedar log cabin which appeared to be a design used three or four hundred years ago. I crept over to the building, looking around the whole time to make sure I was not seen, and made my way over to the nearest window. Looking inside I was baffled at what I saw. 

Instead of the modern appliances in the first house, this house had only candles, oil lanterns, a fireplace and a wood burning stove. Why would two houses so close to one another be in such vastly different conditions? 

Keeping a close watch around me, I moved between the buildings to the old gravel road running in front of the houses. More houses awaited me on the other side of the road. Judging by what I was able to see so far, this strange village was built in a circular pattern. The homes were staggered, so I could not see more than one row of houses deeper into the buildings. I think this was by design. It prevented me from looking far in any one direction. I estimated by the size there must be four or five rings of buildings in this creepy hamlet. 

I watched and waited for ten or fifteen minutes before I made a sprint for the gap between two of the houses on the other side of the gravel road. My heart raced as I ducked behind one of the buildings. After allowing myself a few moments to catch my breath, I peeked around the corner to see if I was spotted. It appeared I was again lucky as I saw no one else out on the street, and the curtains to most of the homes were pulled closed. 

I came up to the back of a Victorian style home – none of these homes appeared to be from the same era – when I heard the most horrific scream shatter the cold quite air of the small town. The screaming continued, sending shivers through my body and making my stomach feel ill, for nearly ten minutes. I never heard such cries of pain in my life. The people of this strange town must be torturing someone. I wanted to run, I wanted to get away to safety as soon as possible, but the good person in me could not allow me to go off and abandon those who really needed my help. 

It sounded like the anguished scream came from the opposite side of the village. I would have to make my way through the center of town to get there. I was already too deep into the cluster of homes to go out and go around. When I finally came to a place between two houses, a ranch house and a Tudor home, I saw what was in the center. 

Initially I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me in the dark. In the center of the town there appeared to be a very deep hole about fifty feet in diameter. I could not see well from my current hiding position, but it looked like the hole was encircled by large black stones cut level with the ground. I wanted to get a closer look at that hole, but there simply was nowhere to hide close to the pit. There appeared to be something carved into the stones, but I could not see it from any hiding spot. No buildings, wagons, cars or anything else was any closer than the inner ring of buildings. 

I watched three people exit from a house a couple of buildings from where I hid. Two of them appeared to wear clothes from the modern day, but the third person instead wore furs and the heavy clothes of a mountain man. He had a full, thick beard and his hair was very unkempt. An old hatchet and a single fire pistol hung from his belt. 

As the three of them headed in the direction of the village opposite of me, I heard another one of those bone chilling, agonized screams pierce through the darkness. I jumped from the fright, and prayed no one saw me.  I watched the three as they disappeared between some of the structures  on the other side of the hole, headed in the direction of those tortured cries. 

I was not about to go out in the open to cross near the hole, so I slowly worked my way from between one set of buildings and another. I took great care to make sure no one saw me skulking about their strange little town. I was even beginning to wonder if I was actually sleeping at the base of some tree right now having a horrible nightmare. I wish I could think that, but I knew this was far too real to be any sort of dream. 

Another horrible cry of agony echoed through the night. This time it lasted longer and sounded even more tortured, if that was possible, than the screams before. Possibly a minute later a strange glowing red mist passed between the houses and sucked into the stone-rimmed hole like water through a drinking straw. I so desperately wanted to flee for my life, but I could not live with myself if I did not try to help this person or people from whatever cruelty was being enacted upon them. 

I was about to move out from behind a large bush that was doing a good job of concealing me when I heard some voices. I waited where I was as I watched four individuals pass me and disappear between two buildings of the outer ring. I did not catch much of what was said as they walked by. One of them said something about “gifts for thee who protects…” and that was all I got. 

Two more small groups of people passed the same way. I could only assume they were headed to the same place. I watched and waited for a few more minutes, then quietly and staying in the dark, I followed them to their clandestine location. I watched some people enter what really looked like nothing more than a barn. I heard screaming again, screaming of someone being tortured. There was no doubt it came from that barn. Luckily there was a window on the side of the barn next to some farming utensils. I quickly made my way over there and took a look inside. 

I came in low and rose up slowly to get a look at what was happening in the building. As soon as I saw what was taking place I dropped to the ground and vomited. I tried to make as little sound as possible, but after what I just saw I could not help myself. Certainly I made a mistake. Surely there could not be people who would perform such awful rituals. 

After composing myself, I decided to once again look inside the window. This time I had much more of an idea of what to expect. A wave of fear washed over me as I gazed upon the scene inside the barn. In the center of the building was a six-foot-tall pyramid that appeared to be made of sunstone. On each side of it stood two obelisks that, if I were to have to guess, I would say looked like white and dark speckled blue lapis lazuli. On one side of these objects all but one person stood. Another man dressed in black ceremonial robe stood on the other. What he stood by was what made me feel fear like I did not know fear could be. 

Two tables reminiscent of the racks used in the days of the Spanish crusades stood propped up slightly toward the crowd of townspeople. On one table was chained a man. On the other table there was chained a woman. Both of them were stripped bare naked. That was not what made it so horrific. That was not even close. 

The man looked as if his belly was cut open surgically. The skin pulled tight and was pinned to the table, leaving his entrails completely exposed. Several feet of his small intestines were pulled from his body and hung down between his feet. The man in the black robe, using a ceremonial knife he held, cut out a large piece of the man’s liver. The man screamed in pain like nothing I ever heard before. By all rights he should be dead, but instead he remained alive just so he could be tortured. 

The man in the black robes tortured his male prisoner for what seemed like forever, but was really probably closer to three or four minutes. When he stopped, he stepped back and held his hands up high and called out “The Old Gods abandoned this world, left us helpless. The New Gods found us naked and afraid. The New Gods protected us and gave us unending life. We must feed the one who protects us.” The last sentence he yelled out strong. 

As the tortured man continued to scream, a red glow rose from his body and absorbed into the sunstone pyramid centered in the barn. Seconds later red mist rose from the tops of the obelisks and formed something of a red gaseous sphere directly over the pyramid. There it hovered as the people in the barn began to chant something I could not understand. The faintly glowing mist then drifted through the closed barn door and directly towards the large, stone-ringed pit. 

The female captive appeared to either be asleep, drugged, in shock or something. Her eyes were slightly opened, but she did not move or do anything as they tortured the man in front of her. I had no idea if the two of them were together, or if they were strangers to each other. The idea suddenly struck me that these two may be unfortunate victims who wandered into this horrible place like I did. I almost went into a panic and ran. I think fear was the only thing holding me in place. If they were captured by the villagers, then there was a distinct possibility I could be too. 

Braving it again, I rose back up to observe what was happening. The person in the black robe walked back to stand in front of the naked man. Holding the blade high in the air, he said something again about “feeding thee who protects.” He reached down and took the suffering man’s hand in his own. Then he proceeded to slice the joints of his fingers, one at a time. He cut the joints from the palm side of the hand, but he left each remaining attached by a flap of skin. 

The man screamed and begged for them to please go ahead and kill him. The crowd laughed at his pleas, mocking him as if this were some sort of game to them. The poor guy continued to scream in pain as his torturer then played with his dangling fingers like he was playing with wind chimes. I could not imagine the pain the man felt as I watched the scene unfolding and listened to his agonized screams. 

The robed figure tortured the other until that red energy left the man and entered the pyramid in front of me. Five times I watched the pyramid absorb the man’s agony and turn it into some kind of mist. Each time the mist passed through the closed barn doors and proceeded to the stone ringed pit in the center of town. 

I don’t know how that unfortunate man was not dead already. His wounds were more than enough to kill a normal man. Something else that seemed unnatural about this was the tortured man shed no blood. As much as he was cut, as much as the robed man mutilated him, he did not bleed. That made no sense. I could not fathom why he did not bleed out and how he could possibly still be living after all this. 

After the man in black cut loose all the joints in the man’s fingers and toes, he turned the racks upon which the victims were chained. He adjusted the tables so they were facing each other. With the man still screaming in pain, he walked over to the woman and made a shallow cut down her chest bone and between her breasts. I guess this broke the spell or whatever they had on her, because she began to panic and feebly try to pull herself free. 

She started to trembling, her lips quivering as she looked at the mangled man across from her. She was bawling and saying things like “No, no, no…” Several times she said the man’s name and told him she loved him. I assumed at this point they were married, or a couple somehow. I so desperately wanted to go help them, but there was nothing I could do. I am not doctor. I could not put that man back together so that he would live. If these people caught me, I might be the next one feeding “the one who protects.” 

The man in the black robes, the master of the ceremony, the high priest or whatever he was retrieved two long skewers from the fireplace and approached the woman with a sadistic grin on his face. He took the first skewer and drove it from her side all the way through her left breast. Smoke rose from the sizzling flesh. She screamed in horrendous pain, which eventually became the red mist feeding that thing in the pit. Acting with a dark sense of glee, he took the other nearly red-hot skewer and, starting over her chest bone he drove it through her breast until it came out the other side. She continued to scream and cry as the crowd laughed at her agony. 

As the skewers sizzled inside the woman’s flesh, he removed a long iron poker from the fire. The end glowed red from the heat of the fireplace coals. The woman’s lips and cheeks quivered as the robed man approached her with the searing hot rod. She begged and pleaded with him not to do whatever he was about to do. She prayed to God for salvation, but none came.  He stood in front of her and reached out between her legs with the red-hot iron poker. 

I could not watch what was going to happen next. I dropped back toward the ground. I covered my ears and closed my eyes tightly as I heard the blood curdling cries of that poor woman. If I was not going to help, and I did not see any way that I could, then it was probably best if I snuck back out of this place and got somewhere safer. I had to get the authorities out here and put a stop to this madness. 

My legs were rather numb and my knees hurt from squatting down for as long as I did. I had to stand there for a minute and work the stiffness out of them before I could flee. When I was ready to make my escape, I began to move towards the woods. Before they saw me, I saw a group of four or five people – it was difficult to tell how many people in this darkness – walking in my direction. I was going to have to make my escape the same way I came in. I was going to have to go back through the rings of homes. 

Slipping around the nearest building before the group arrived was easy, and I continued to move from one hiding spot to another. More alert than I ever was prior to this in my life, I kept a careful watch for anyone who might spot me. I knew getting caught would probably bring about the same torture for me as that ill-fated couple. I was not going to let them get me and feed my pain to whatever unholy thing was in that pit, this thing they called one of the New Gods and “the one who protects.” 

I could not say how long it took me to sneak out of and away from that cursed place. The screams of the man and woman still pierced out in the night, over and over. It tore at my soul that there was nothing I could do for them. I left them being tortured, apparently unable to die. I wondered if I could live with myself for not doing something to help. I simply saw no way I could though. I would get the authorities and have this place taken apart. 

I made my way through the forest as quickly as I could. By sunrise I finally reached a road. I did not know where the road led, but I was absolutely elated to finally find something besides more woods. I was ecstatic after I followed the road for an hour or so, and I located the parking area where I left my car. 

I sped my way into town and went straight to the police department. My tires screeched as I abruptly stopped in a parking space. I barely had the keys turned off before I was climbing out of my car and racing inside. Two officers sat at a long desk that stretched from one wall to the other. Behind them, sitting a little higher was the Police Captain. I ran over to them and somewhat collapsed on the desk. I was too excited, and I was beginning to hyperventilate. 

The two officers at ground level came from behind the wooden desk to try to help me calm down. One of them grabbed a small brown paper bag and had me breathe into it. Eventually I managed to calm down enough to tell them what happened. 

I explained to them everything I experienced. From the time I got lost, the time I spent in that horrible place, and what I saw when I was there. I began to explain how I got away when the captain stopped me. 

“You punk kids come in here ever year with stories of this ‘magical village’ that no one has ever been able to find,” he barked at me as he walked out from behind his desk. “I am sick of you college punks trying to play pranks on the police. You really think that shit’s funny, pranking the police. I should lock you up for filing a false report.” 

I assured him I was telling the truth, but all that did was make him angrier. He gave me one last warning, then he was going to lock me up. I wanted to try to make him understand. People are dying in the most horrible ways, and no one was doing anything to stop them. 

Exhausted, I finally left the station and got back in my car. I did not know what to do. I felt like I had to do something, but I could not take on that whole town. People were going to continue suffering the fate of the couple I watched being tortured, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. If I could not get the authorities to help, there was nothing more I could do. 

I started my car and began heading home. The screams of that couple still remained clear in my mind. I watched them suffer, hearing their anguished cries, then watching those objects turn their pain into food for whatever being from the nether world that lived in that pit. I had to live the rest of my life knowing people were going to continue to be made captive, and eventually tortured with unnatural methods. I had to live the rest of my life wondering what dark, evil thing was living inside that pit in the center of the village. 

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Dead Man’s Switch

Word Count: 9,512

Early in the morning of May 4, 2011, I awoke from my sleep screaming in terror. This was a common occurrence and a constant nuisance in my life. My psychiatrist called them night terrors. Nightmares plagued my slumber, and nothing seemed to help. The doctor prescribed me a range of mental health medications, but the night terrors continued. I awoke two or three times a week drenched in sweat and trembling from head to toe. 

I never woke with any memories of my dreams, and I was not sure if that was a good or a bad thing. If my dreams were so bad I awoke screaming for my life, I do not think I would want to recall them. On the other hand, if I knew what my dreams were about, I might be able to do something about them. 

My doctor made a suggestion he said might help. Per his instructions, I kept a notebook by my bed. Each morning when I awoke, I would immediately write down any details I remembered. Dr. Cooper would go through these with me during our sessions in an attempt to discover the underlying cause of my nightmares. 

My sleep disorder began to affect my studies. I had problems focusing in class and concentrating on my homework. I never had any energy, but I was afraid of going to sleep. Coffee helped some, but it gave me the jitters. I did not even have the desire to go out with my friends. 

My parents paid for me a small apartment off of campus. They lived with my night terrors for years, and they knew no roommate could live with them. It was something I kept from my friends. It was a secret, a secret I was crazy, and I told none of my college friends or classmates. 

Years of medication and psychotherapy failed to provide any positive results. By my junior year in college, I accepted the fact I would deal with this for the rest of my life. Even when I had a girlfriend, I would always go home to sleep. I never let anyone stay overnight at my place, for obvious reasons, and I never stayed over with anyone else. A lot of girls took this as an insult causing me to be something of a sexual outcast. 

Only one more week of finals remained, then I had a small break before the summer session began. So long as I could make it through four summer classes, I would graduate one semester early. The only major thing I really had left was my internship. I would take care of that during the fall session. 

I was working on my degree in computer science, and I planned to work as an I.T. specialist after graduation. Until I was offered the internship, I never heard of the company making the offer. It was some informational technology corporation called NEMV. 

Their office was located in one of the larger buildings in Nashville, Tennessee. Apparently, they were large enough to have their own floor in one of the high-rise buildings. I hoped I would get an office with a window, if I got an office at all.

During my summer sessions, I spent less and less time with others. People I knew since childhood no longer wanted to have anything to do with me. Even those I grew up with since we were babies did their best to avoid contact with me. I became an outcast and an oddity, and the rumors began to circulate about me. 

I heard whispers that I joined some kind of satanic cult. Other rumors said I dabbled in witchcraft. Even others said I was going insane. No one ever said anything to my face about my drastic change in personality. Everything being said was said behind closed doors or in hushed whispers of gathered students. 

I knew when people talked about me because they would suddenly grow quite whenever I passed by. Even some of my instructions appeared to go out of the way to avoid being alone with me in the same room at the same time. Every time I met one of them for any number of reasons, they always avoided having it take place enclosed office or study room. 

Depression set in and I became very paranoid. That was probably from a lack of sleep more than anything. One of my professors even suggested I see one of the school therapists. It was obvious people began to worry about what I might do. I guess they thought I was going to go on a killing spree or something. I was not angry. I did not want anyone to get hurt. All I really wanted was to be left alone. 

I never had any energy, and I was sleepy all of the time. I would try to nap during the day in hopes shorter sleeping sessions would lessen the chance for the night terrors. I was wrong. I experienced the nightmares no matter how long or short I slept. This sleep disorder took its toll on every aspect of my life. Even my parents, who lived with my sleeping disorder since I was a toddler, began to worry about me. If I could not do something soon to stop these horrific dreams, I would surely go mad. 

Even after years of trying to write my dreams down when I awoke in the morning, there was only one thing I ever remembered. I always remembered a presence, a darkness of sorts, like an ominous sinister presence. 

Over time, I came to the belief that this thing that so frequently haunted my dreams was something more than a figment of my imagination. I finally concluded that this thing was something real, something alive that tormented me as I slept. 

I did not reveal my deduction to my doctor or to anyone else. Surely, if I tried to convince others that the tormentor of my dreams was a living entity, they would think I went insane. The authorities, if not my family, would have me hospitalized where I would probably spend the rest of my life. 

When I was fifteen years of age, I did spend some time in a mental hospital. Knowing what to expect, I could not let myself become a lab rat locked up for the remainder of my days. Doctors and other professionals would study me and publish papers on what they learned about my disorder. No way was I going to let myself become a test subject for a bunch of head shrinkers. 

One night I could not get to sleep. I left my apartment and began walking. Buried in my thoughts, I paid no attention to where I went. I walked for several hours, and by the time I paid attention to my surroundings I had no idea where I was. 

I found hope, a small glimmer of optimism that my nightmare would someday end when I noticed the entrance to what I assumed was a Buddhist temple. I do not know what compelled me, but I felt somehow these people would be able to help me. 

The monks inside seemed to be engaged in some form of meditation as I entered the building. Their chanting brought a peace to my heart like I have never known. I waited, just inside the doorway for more than an hour before their ceremony came to an end. I had no idea what I should do. I was raised a Protestant and knew nothing about this peaceful religion. 

An elderly Asian man of some advanced years approached me. I stood nervously as he slowly shuffled his way over to me. His short strides made the short walk across the floor into an epic journey. When he finally reached me, he bowed his bald head to me in respect. I followed suit and reciprocated his humble gesture. 

He again stood upright, supporting himself with an intricately carved staff. The details of the engravings were astounding. It had to have been made by someone who dedicated his entire life to that one craft. Something about the wood from which it was made did not seem normal. The rings from the tree ran at an angle rather than horizontally. This meant that someone cut the staff diagonally from a massive tree. The rings were in such close proximity with one another, it was obvious it came from an ancient tree, a tree that did not have to compete for sunlight. 

I waited until the wrinkled old man stood upright before I did so myself. Being fully ignorant of the etiquette and customs of these people, I thought the best way to go about things was in the same manner as they. I did not want to come across as being rude, so I tried to be as respectful as possible. 

Without saying a word, the venerable monk brushed the back of his soft hand against the side of my head. A smile spread across his face, and I felt like he found joy in my pain. He then turned away from me and bid me to follow him. Everyone else in the temple was in their bare feet, so I removed the shoes from my own feet before proceeding. 

It took this old man forever to make his way across the floor, and I grew very impatient. When my patients finally wore out, I opened my mouth to say something. I probably would have said something rude. 

As if anticipating my actions, the old man stopped in his tracks. Turning his head back toward me, he pressed his index finger against his lips. He knew I was about to speak and stopped me before I got that far. I knew this was a very wise man, a very wise man indeed. 

Trying to calm myself, I followed the man into a chamber in the back of the temple. It was a beautifully adorned room. Silken banners in red and orange hung from the top of the walls, falling a few inches short of the floor. In the center of the room stood an iron candleholder set in layers forming the unmistakable shape of a pyramid. I knew absolutely nothing about the customs and traditions of these monks, but I still felt like this ornament was very out of place. 

The venerable man stood quietly with his eyes closed. I was tempted to take a seat on one of the orange silken pillows that littered the floor, then I thought about Mom’s “not for sitting on” furniture. I decided it best that I continued to stand. The old monk must have been testing my patients because we stood there for close to an hour. 

I was just about ready to give up and walk out. Like he anticipated my thoughts, a younger monk entered the room. Taking his place by his elder, the new arrival bowed and began to speak. 

“The Master greets you to his temple,” the younger man said. It was as if he were speaking the thoughts of the old man. 

“You are a very unsettled man,” he stated observantly. “There is a pathway along life’s great journey that can lead you to the solace you seek.” 

With these words, the old man smiled and nodded his head toward me. 

“Can-can you make my nightmares stop?” I asked in desperation. 

The old man put his hand on the shoulder of his younger companion. As he did, the younger man said, “The only way to stop one’s dreams is to stop one’s life.” 

I could not believe what I heard. These were supposed to be peaceful, kind, and caring people. If I understood correctly, the monk was telling me to end my life. Did they want me to commit suicide? Like he said, the only way to stop one’s dreams is to stop one’s life. 

The old man shook his head as the other said, “You must learn to defeat your dreams, not end them. Your shoulders bear a heavy burden, be it of your own creation or not.” 

The old man waved his palm parallel to the floor. Nodding his head yet again, the old man signaled for the young man to continue. 

“Your answer will take you on a long journey. You will find what you seek in the land now called Arizona.” 

These men were being awful specific in their observations. It was like they already knew everything about me. That was an impossibility as I only entered the temple several hours ago. The old man then shuffled slowly out of the room. With him gone, the younger monk said no more. I tried to get him to clarify these cryptic answers. 

“Only the Master knows,” he said. “Study this room and it will give you your answers.” 

I became so frustrated, I could scream. I thought I would find peace here, but instead I found only more annoyance. Anger right then only served to stack on top of my fear of sleep. I was only standing in a room with silken banners of red and orange with a scattering of pillows on the floor. The only thing that really seemed to be any kind of a clue was the pyramidal candle stand in the center of the room. 

I walked a circle around the dark-iron stand being careful not to disturb any of the pillows on the floor. Nothing especially notable was to be found on the stand of light. I knew that these priests did not bring me in here just to jerk me around. They had a reason. My task now was to figure out what that reason was. I repeated that young monk’s last statement in my head over and over. 

With these cryptic words burned into my mind, I once again began to walk around what must have been an altar. This time, I did not pay attention to the candles. Instead, I watched the rest of the room as I moved. The flickering candle light fell on one stack of pillows in such a way it appeared to be the opening of a cave. It occurred to me then that the stand was not the clue. The clues were the images created by the light from that stand. 

With each step, I would stop and examine the room for anything else that might have been a sign for me. Instead of stepping over the pillows, I began to move around them. The frustration and anger I felt only minutes prior began to change to joy. As the room revealed more and more of its secrets, hope began to fill my heart. I think I was looking at a map. As I moved around the room, I began to see what looked like landmarks. 

I studied the room for hours. The longer I stayed in there, the more obvious the clues became. The sudden realization of how much time passed struck me. Finding my way back to the main chamber, I headed back through the door and into the street. I had finals in about six hours, and I had no sleep at all. I knew the few hours I could sleep would do me more harm than good. It was best I just stayed awake. 

Instead, I took a peaceful walk around the campus. I never realized how beautiful the grounds were. It struck me as quite magnificent. Some of the older buildings crawled with ivy, and the newest buildings were architectural works of art. Most of the time I spent at the university, I spent in class. When I was not on campus, I was in my small lonely apartment. I watched the sun rise in the east which illuminated the clouds with the most beautiful oranges and reds I ever saw. Despite my lack of sleep, I felt rested and free. 

With my mind free and clear, I did very well on the last of my finals. No demon plagued my dreams for three nights straight. It was not that very often that I had such peace during my slumber. I could not help but believe those monks somehow helped me with my terrorizing nightmares. Perhaps some prayer they raised up was heard by some higher being. Whatever the reason, I could not be more thankful for the rest. 

With my finals finished, I had a whole week off before my first summer session began. I sat in my apartment playing a game when the email icon popped up on my smart phone. I started to ignore it, but finally decided to check it. It was a good thing that I did because it was something miraculous. 

The email came from the human resources director at the closest NEVM office building. The email offered me the opportunity for a paid summer internship, in Arizona. The company was setting up a new office, and they wanted me to design their computer network system. 

I called the number from the email first thing in the morning. If I took the internship, the company offered to set up and pay for the following fall semester. In addition, the internship offered me six credit hours. This was too obvious a sign, so by no means would I turn it down. I would receive another email in a day or two with all of the arrangements. 

To my despair, my night terrors returned that very night. I awoke just before sunrise screaming and dripping with my sweat. My eyes darted around the room as if I were going to find something tangible, something unspeakable skulking in my room. As with every other morning like this, I found nothing that did not belong. 

I climbed out of bed and shook the dark thoughts from my head. I hit the floor and got dressed in my nicest clothing. I planned to return to the temple to thank the monks for their help. This time, I made sure I put on my whitest socks. I knew I would be removing my shoes when I entered the building. 

I wandered around for hours. I was sure I remembered where the place was, but an old run-down house occupied the address. Assuming I must be off by a street or two, I began to look for the temple. I walked all through the area for hours and found nothing like what I sought. I stopped one man out mowing his yard and asked him if he knew where I could find the place. 

The man seemed quite offended by my question. 

“We aint’ got no devil churches around here boy, just good Christian folk,” the man snapped. “You want to learn karate you better take yer butt to China.” 

I withdrew from the man like a frightened child. He seemed to be very serious about his statement. I was not about to argue, and I was not going to correct the cultural mistakes of his statement. I crossed to the other side of the street and quickly walked out of view of the racist old man, although that did not deter me from my search. I continued to walk the sidewalks of the community hoping to again find that peaceful sanctuary. I walked until blisters stung my feet. Finally, I removed the chafing shoes and made the painful walk to my apartment. 

The only explanation I could fathom was I simply scoured the area on the wrong side of town. The temple was quite large, and I do not know how I could have missed it unless I was in the wrong place. I so wanted to thank them for their guidance, but when I got home an email awaited me. 

NEVM made all the arrangements and I was to leave in two days. A stipend deposited into my account so I could buy luggage and new clothing. The ticket was attached as a PDF document. There was a lot to do and very little time to do it. 

I did a bachelor clean-up of my apartment and hit the department store at the mall. I found a set of luggage that looked perfect. It made me think of the business men who worked with my father when I was only a child. I purchased some very nice professional clothing and some lavish travel accessories. I spent the most on a pair of shoes. Father always said you could tell a lot about a business man by the shine of his shoes. I bought the shoes and designed the rest of my new wardrobe around them. 

The morning of my flight, I woke covered in sweat and swinging my hands before my face as if fending off an attacker. This was the first time I ever awoke this violently, and unfortunately it would not be my last. I jumped out of the bed and hid behind my dresser. Something terrified me, and its presence was all but tangible. I knew something else was in the room with me. 

I remained frozen for several minutes. I grabbed a stick I kept beside my bed and slowly made my way across the room. Although I could not see anything, I could feel something watching me. It was not my imagination. Something was in the room with me. 

Then I noticed my shadow. The room was dim and the light came at me from several directions. Regardless my shadow remained perfectly formed. I virtually saw its eyes staring into mine. It was darkness absolute. Nothing hidden by it could be seen. The wall, books, and my bed were cloaked in complete darkness. It remained this way for ten minutes. 

A loud truck flew past my apartment building, and the roar jolted me into attention. When I looked back to the darkness, I found everything looked as it should. The inky blackness that stared at me with its demonic eyes was no longer there. For the first time, I got a clear glimpse at the horror that haunted my dreams. I stood there for a while waiting for the thing to return. 

Eventually, I came to my senses and rushed to finish packing my belongings. NEVM sent a car to take me to the airport, and I still had packing to do. I quickly threw on some clothes and stuffed everything I could into my luggage and rushed out the door. By the time I left my apartment, the car was already there for thirty minutes. I supposed he was in no hurry since driving was all he did. 

I never really looked at my plane ticket until I checked in at the airport. The company paid for me a first-class seat. I never flew first-class before. I could not wait to see what it was like. 

My twenty-second birthday passed a few months ago, and I was glad to be able to have a few drinks. The flight attendant offered me some Champaign. When I found out it came free with first-class, I probably drank more than I should. I rarely imbibed alcoholic beverages; I made the journey to intoxication quite rapidly. The attendant must have noticed because she stopped offering me drinks and offered me food instead. 

I was not sure what went on next, but before long I reclined in my chair with a pillow and drifted off to sleep. Dear God, why did they let me go to sleep? I cannot say with any kind of certainty how long I slept before my dreams began. In the subconscious world, time made its own rules; the boundaries of the physical universe had no place there. 

For the first time, I remained lucid as my nightmare unfolded. I found myself standing atop a massive stone pyramid. It made me think of the pyramids found in Peru, but no stairs led from the bottom to the top. Dense darkness surrounded me and made it impossible for me to see the bottom. The stone appeared freshly cut, not like the eroded stones that comprised the Mayan pyramids. I did not understand how I climbed to the top of the monument, but I suppose in the dream world that did not matter. I was up here and that was all that mattered. 

Directly overhead, a full moon beamed down bathing the pyramid with its cool light. The direct angle of the celestial orb created shadows on all sides of the pyramid dropping one tier to the next. Only the very edges of the lower tiers were visible. I thought I could make out the lowest tier of the stone construct, but the ground upon which it rested hid in absolute darkness. 

Several hundred yards away, encircling me in all directions stood a single large craggy cliff. The canyon walls rose to stand hundreds of feet above me. From where I stood, I saw no way down and no way out. 

I stood there for the boundless time that dreams provide growing evermore fearful as the minutes progressed. The moon remained in the same position as I stood there glowing in all of its glory. The orb, like everything else, obeyed no natural laws. Its size was massive appearing in the sky, as large as the sun. 

In time, the moon began to eclipse. This process seemed to be following the flow of normal time. Whatever blackened the moon, it was not the Earth. Something very high in the sky positioned itself between the moon and me. Something not from the natural world, something sinister, choked out the light above me. 

My heart raced, and my pulse throbbed in my wrists. The terror I felt this morning intensified tenfold. As the moon became progressively obscured, I began to hear sounds below me. I forced myself to look down to see what created the horrific sounds. 

Something crawled up the sides of the pyramid. At the rate they ascended, they would be upon me in minutes. I knew they would reach me as soon as the moon disappeared from sight. My body trembled as I hopelessly searched for an escape. I continued the futile effort as I began to hear the sounds of rock crashing upon rock. The walls of the canyon broke apart and crashed somewhere down in the abysmal darkness. 

I lost all hope. If the crumbling cliffs did not crush me, the things climbing the pyramid would. My desperation came to an end. I resigned myself to the fact that I would die and set my soul to ease. Everyone and everything has an end. If this was to be mine, then so be it. 

Just then I saw a flicker of pale blue light underneath my feet. Embedded in the surface was a massive sapphire. Out of it a light shone as a heavenly beacon. I knelt down to touch it, but I never made it that far. 

The things crawling up from below reached me before my hand touched the stone. I saw them rush upon me, and I realized what I was up against. I recognized the beings enveloping me. The first time that I can recall seeing one was this morning, but I knew it was they who haunted my dreams. That thing of darkness that followed me out of my dream, that thing that posed as my shadow came from this world. 

The hellish beings rushed over me with such force, they sent me flying. Clearing the edges of the pyramid, these unknown things grappled me tightly dragging me down into the infinite darkness. All I could do was scream. 

Light once again came into view. I opened my eyes to see two flight attendants gently shaking me awake. Swears flowed from my mouth and I screamed at the top of my lungs. I tried to jump out of my seat in an attempt to escape my terror. The two male attendants bore down on me tightly. I screamed. I told them to turn around. Instead, they grappled me to my seat. 

Behind the two men, posing as their shadows, were two perfectly formed figures of absolute darkness. I could discern no physical features with the exception of the eyes. Those red eyes with the orange pupils stared directly at me. I could see a smile in those eyes. The next moment, the two forms sank through the floor of the airplane and vanished. 

I continued to scream in a desperate attempt to be away from these hitchhikers from the dream world. As far as I knew, these things were still onboard the aircraft. I shouted for someone to search the plane, to make sure those things were gone. The two men holding me would not release their grip. The more I insisted we were not alone on this plane, the tighter their hold on me became. 

I knew my claims sounded outrageous and insane, but it was the truth. There was nothing I could do to make these airline employees believe something otherworldly was onboard with us. They would never believe my claims that something demonic followed me out of my dreams. I would not believe it if I did not witness it firsthand. Realizing it was a futile effort to try to make these people understand, I allowed myself to calm down. 

After a few minutes, I pushed the panic from my forethoughts and began doing as the two men said. Once they were sure I would not resume my struggles, they released their strong grip on me. I allowed them to explain what I already knew. One of them explained that I was sleeping when I began to scream. When he told me I was having a nightmare, I wondered if he was stupid or if he thought I was. Either way, I allowed him to talk as my eyes slowly scanned about the cabin. 

The shadow demons did not reappear again during the remainder of the flight. One female attendant offered me another drink to help me settle my nerves, but I assured her that I was fine now. I think it was the alcohol that made me doze off in the first place. I convinced her that I only experienced a terrible nightmare, but now I was okay. I almost expected there to be a team of orderlies waiting for me with a straight-jacket when we landed and disembarked from the plane. 

Instead, I found that NEMV already reserved me a car at one of the better rental places, but I still had too much alcohol in my blood to be driving. I took a cab to the nearest hotel where I spent the night. I went back in the morning to pick up my car if I could only get back to sleep. I did not really want to go to sleep, but my body was literally exhausted. Besides, the thought of going to sleep and encountering these things again terrified me; I had to get some rest. I needed to be clear minded before I drove across the desert tomorrow morning. 

The thought of again fighting with these dark entities horrified me so much that it made me sick to my stomach. I was sure the alcohol did not help this any. I could not get the image of their red and orange eyes out of my mind. That devilish gaze burned clearly into my memory. I already ushered at least three of these beings from the nether reaches of the dream world into the physical realm. Who knows how many of the things bridged the gap from one reality to the next over my two decades of night terrors? Every morning I awoke screaming from my unholy nightmares, I probably brought some of these things across with me every time. 

I managed to purge these thoughts from my mind long enough to drift off to sleep. Those shadows apparently left me alone, because I woke up the next morning feeling rested and refreshed. After a nice steamy shower, I called the front desk to summon me a taxi. By the time I packed up and made it to the lobby, the car was already waiting for me. 

I took my time checking out when the associate suggested I might want to hurry. When the cabs around here waited for five minutes for the passenger to arrive, they turned on the meter and began charging for the time. I did not really care. I still had plenty of travel funds left from my travel stipend. I would not begin this morning in a stressed hurry. I felt calm and at peace, and I would not let something as petty as a running meter ruin that for me. I had a long road ahead of me. 

Once I returned to the airport to pick up my rental, I stopped off at a truck stop to get me a Styrofoam cooler, ice, bottled water and some snacks. According to my GPS system, I was looking at a little more than a three-hour drive. My flight half of the way across the country took only a few minutes longer than that. The long lonely drive was not something I looked forward to, but my spirit lifted a little when I learned the vehicle had satellite radio. I knew way out in the middle of nowhere to where I was headed, it would be very difficult to impossible to pick up any broadcast radio stations. 

I drove for an hour and only passed another car every ten minutes or so. I passed neither homes nor any other structures, but I occasionally drove by a dirt road leading off of the main. Where those went, I did not care. My directions stated I was to stay on this road until I reached my destination. 

The red of the desert became seriously monotonous and began to grate on my nerves. I did find some of the geological formations very interesting. Ten minutes later I spotted a mesa that snapped my thoughts back to that Buddhist temple. The remains of this ancient volcanic rock possessed orange and red stripes that reminded me of the alternating curtains in that pyramid room of the monastery. 

Only a few miles further along the road, I saw an odd rock formation that was reminiscent of the first stack of pillows to which I took notice. Immediately after this wondrous formation, a dirt road to my left appeared to lead out that way. I could not say what, but something within me knew I should take this detour and head away from the main highway. 

Ignoring all logic, I turned onto the rough, red dirt road. It surprised me how well the car took the off-road drive. I would not think that a luxury car could handle the rough and uneven terrain. 

I realized the gas gauge indicated only half a tank remained, and I seriously considered turning around. So that I could determine my precise location, I activated the GPS aspect of my phone. The weather popped up on my phone on its own, and my blood ran cold. According to the weather app on my phone, tonight would be a clear night and a rare lunar eclipse was to take place. Checking my location, I found I was in the perfect area to experience the total eclipse. 

The memories of that dream with the step pyramid rushed back into my thoughts like a raging river. The thought of what I might find scared me so much, my body went rather numb. My thoughts were interrupted when I found a cave entrance framed with giant, flat stones. Whatever I was supposed to find, I knew I would find it in there. I grabbed my flashlight and four flares out of the trunk. I decided to take a first aid kit that was in the trunk with the flares. I might hurt myself in the darkness in the crust of the earth, so some supplies may come in handy. The last thing I grabbed were my three remaining bottles of water floating in the melted ice inside the cooler. 

When I packed my luggage, I thought to bring the book bag that I normally used for school. I do not know why, but something inside me told me I should take it along with me. Now I was glad that I did. I placed everything, with the exception of the flashlight into the satchel and threw it over my shoulders. With that done, I began the hike up to the mouth of the cave. I could not believe how closely it matched the pillow formations of that strange temple. 

I guess I misjudged the size of the rock outcropping encasing the cave opening because the walk took much longer than I expected. By the time I reached it, I saw the cavern yawned open nearly twenty feet in height. 

I paused for several minutes contemplating what horrors awaited me within. Perhaps I was to face something much worse than the red-eyed shadow demons that used me as a transport from the dream world to this one. The thought that I may never exit this place once I entered made me vomit. My head swam with the idea that this could very well be the last time I ever looked upon the yellow sun. This could be the last time that I felt the life-giving warmth of its rays. 

I swallowed my fear and mustered every bit of courage inside me. Holding my breath, I took my first step into the solid darkness. Twenty feet into the stone corridor, the light from the sun provided me with no more help. 

When I turned on the flashlight, I was both grateful and disappointed. The bulb glowed very brightly. This allowed me to see well, but it also meant the batteries were going to burn out that much faster. 

Looking at the smooth decline before me, I pressed on deeper into the earth. The cave seemed too straight and too consistent in size to be natural. When I eventually hit a plateau, I knew why. Underneath my feet, I saw the floor of the passageway comprised of tightly fitting red stones. What made it even more unsettling was the fact that the stones were not uniform in shape, yet a slip of tissue paper could not fit between the seams. I brushed my hand over the crimson cobblestones and found the floor to be so smooth I could not feel where one stone ended and the other stone began. 

It became obvious I was not in a cave; I was on a road. A long forgotten ancient people, for whatever reason, built this road which continued deeper and deeper into the ground. Once I passed the first landing, I saw more signs this cavern was in fact an ancient road. The road stretched so deep into the ground that the light from the flashlight saw no end. 

Occasionally I saw a small grotto carved into the walls. They were probably pull overs for people to rest as they ascended or descended the steep sloping road. When I reached the fourth landing, I made a shocking discovery. Initially I thought the darkness played tricks on my mind. Carved into the walls at each landing was a small grotto. All of them were empty. This one was not. 

It contained remnants of what must be a wagon. Metal made up a majority of the drawn vehicle. The wooden wheels rotted to dust as had any ropes or yokes that may have held the beasts to the vehicle. The alloy that made up a majority of the wagon did not resemble any metal I saw before now. It almost appeared to be glass filled with metal flakes or glitter. I tapped my flashlight against it and I did not hear the clink of glass; I heard the ping of metal upon metal. 

My skin burned with stinging goose bumps with what happened next. The metal began producing an illumination of its own. It started at the point where I hit the wagon and spread to cover its entire surface. In what must be the front of the wagon, I saw two skeletons I could not identify. By the looks of them, they must have been some form of beasts of burden. Their form was somewhat bovine in nature with several marked differences. The skulls belonged to animals that no longer walked the Earth today. The legs did not end in hooves like most of the beasts of burden of modern times. Instead, four large feet terminated in six long toes closely resembling thick finger bones. 

The more I examined the strange skeletons, the less recognizable they became. I never heard of such skeletons having ever been discovered. I think I would remember something as strange as these. I finished my minor in paleontology, but nothing in my studies prepared me for the arrangement of bones in front of me. 

The wagon faced toward the downward slope, so I assumed the riders must have been traveling deeper into the cavern rather than heading out. By the looks of the burden animals, I shuddered to think what the driver of the wagon looked like. No real reason existed for me to expect to see the ancient remains of the wagon’s driver, but the thought petrified me none-the-less. 

After drinking half a bottle of water, I resumed my hike deeper into the bowels of the earth. By my own estimate, I was at least five or six hundred feet below the level of the opening. I could not tell how much further the road stretched as the level plateaus obscured the section of the tunnel that followed. I traveled every bit of a mile or two and, according to the timepiece on my wrist; I was already close to my third hour underground. I worried my flashlight would not last much longer. 

Conserving my batteries became a major concern, so I decided to give it some rest. I popped a cap off of one of the four flares. I threw it as far down the tunnel as I could, and then I walked down behind it. I reached the next level section and tossed the flare further still. Unfortunately, I barely passed the grotto of the fifth level before the flare burned itself out. The problem I now face was whether or not to ignite another flare or to turn back on the bulb of my electric torch. 

The sun shining on the surface world would set soon if it did not already. No turns or cross roads presented themselves; I thought the road would never come to an end. The corridor appeared singular and unending. 

Another flare and two levels further, I spotted what had to be the remnants of the person who drove the wagon I found earlier. The clothing on the body remained, but even from a distance I could see the flesh long ago turned to dust. At first, fear prevented me from approaching any closer. If the wagon animals were so strange, I could not fathom what their owner would look like. I wanted to avoid approaching anywhere the time bleached bones, but if I was to proceed, I had no other choice than to pass by the remains. Regardless, it terrified me to think of what the bones would reveal. 

My batteries continued to drain as I stood there motionless. That thought alone pushed me forward. If a long journey still remained before me, I did not want to be left in absolute darkness. I wanted to flee. I wanted to run back to the surface. I did not want to proceed any further, but I already came this far. I had to know what awaited me at the bottom of the road. 

Cautiously, I approached the body as if I expected it to stand to greet me. When I drew close enough, I saw that no skull remained with the rest of the body. I suppose it fell free from the neck of the corpse and long ago rolled further into the earth. All of the remaining bones appeared intact. 

The skeleton was much taller than that of a human. It had six fingers on each hand, but only three toes on each foot. With the exception of a few marked differences, the bones appeared relatively human. One of the major differences was that the bones appeared bluish-black in color. I initially thought it was a result of extreme age. Upon closer inspection, I found something infinitely stranger. 

The color came from carbon fibers lacing on the inside and outside of the bones. So well were the fibers incorporated, no doubt in my mind existed the fibers were a natural part of this person. Such incredible intertwining could not be done this well after death. Something with a skeletal structure such as this would be difficult to impossible to damage by today’s standards. By the looks of it, this individual died from exhaustion, dehydration, or starvation. 

Even more unusual than the skeleton were the clothes holding the bones like a sack. They appeared to be made from a mineral fiber like asbestos or something similar. I moved the beam of the flashlight down the tunnel for a moment, and noticed something very abnormal. The clothing worn by this ancient humanoid proceeded to emit a light of its own. I do not know if the crystalline fabric trapped the rays of my flashlight or if it reacted to the light and now produced its own energy. 

I spent more time examining this eons-old corpse than I should. Once I finally went on my way, after drinking the rest of that bottle of water, I turned off my flashlight and sparked up another flare. I placed the empty bottle next to the wall. The burned-out flare lay on the path a mile or so back. In the case I never made it back to the surface, I left some indication of my passage into the earth. Perhaps one day someone will find these artifacts and know I was here. 

I tossed the flare further down the road and it moved slightly out of view. The burning flare rolled out of sight, probably because it rolled past another landing. Although it was not directly visible, the red light the flame produced was still in view. My eyes adjusted quickly to the decreased light, and it became much easier to see the walls, ceiling, and floors of the tunnel. 

I spotted a cylindrical object shortly after the next landing. From a distance, I could not make out what the object was. I assumed it must have been a container of some sort left by the beings that once used this road. When I drew closer, I realized I was looking at a skull. The skull was obviously not human. Just like the beasts of burden a level prior, the skull did not resemble anything I ever saw or heard of before in my life. 

The skull did not display the white bleached appearance of the bones of any normal being. Under the red light of the flare, the carbon fiber laced skull appeared to be solid black. My stomach churned, and I struggled to push the fear that flooded my heart and mind. Fighting my instinct to run, I quickly approached what remained of the head of that long dead being. 

Kneeling down, I picked up the skull and used the hissing red flare to illuminate its face. My eyes fell upon a face that was strangely familiar to me. The cylindrical skull with the elongated face was a spitting image of the megaliths of Easter Island. Those giant, timeless stone faces were obviously carved in the image of beings such as this one. 

Carefully I sat the skull back on the ground. I stood it up so that the fleshless face stared down the tunnel. I thought about the first flare and that plastic bottle I left behind. If someone did find these in the future, they would know that I was here, but they would have no idea of who I was. 

I removed my wallet from my back pocket. Next to the skull, I placed my driver’s license, several green bills of American money, and my wallet. Now, if anyone else did discover this pathway into the depths of the earth, they would know who I was and approximately when I was here. 

I took one last look at the time, and then I removed the battery from my watch. The hands of my time piece stopped ticking displaying the exact time I turned it off. By my estimate, the moon would begin to eclipse in another hour or so. Somehow, I knew I must reach the bottom of this road soon or the consequences would be dire. 

Quickly, I downed another bottle of water and dropped it to the floor. This third flare burned dimly and would be out within minutes. I struck the fourth flare and threw it down the road before me. I did not know how much longer this road was, so I increased my pace to a jog. I had no idea of how much road I had left in front of me, so I did not want to waste any time finding out. 

By this time, I walked every bit of five miles. Keeping in mind the rise over run equation for a slope, I was more than an half a mile underground. That was about the height of the canyon walls that appeared around me in my dreams. I knew I must be close to the bottom. 

At my increased pace, I covered much more distance in a shorter period of time. If my dreams were any indicator at all, I should reach the bottom very soon. As I trotted down the sloping tunnel, I picked up that last flare and continued to toss it to illuminate the road before me. 

With my flashlight in hand, I ran as fast as I could without falling. Instead of a sense of relief, a sense of accomplishment; when I finally reached the end of the road, I came to an abrupt halt. Petrified with fear, I saw the road opened up into an unsupported stone bridge. I saw no bottom, no ceiling, and no walls. The only thing within range of the beaming flashlight was that single stone bridge. 

When I finally approached, I saw the bridge carved from the very same bedrock stone as the subterranean road. It began just inside of the tunnel, one single long piece of stone leading me onward. The stone around the bridge was carved away, leaving only the path before which I stood. 

Swallowing my terror and ignoring the churning in my gullet. I ran; I ran two or three hundred feet and the bridge came to an abrupt end. With the span of the bridge to my back, I shined the flashlight over the edge. Tears welled up in my eyes as I observed tier after tier of twenty feet high levels stacked below me. I stood atop a giant stone step pyramid, the same pyramid from my dreams. 

I jolted and nearly crumpled to the ground when I began to hear the sound of rock crashing upon rock. I turned to flee, but the bridge was what created the noise. The bridge fell apart and crashed on the consecutive levels of the pyramid. As I watched my escape crumble to the floor, I heard the sound of stone cracking above me. The massive cavern around me was about to collapse and I was stuck at the top of the only structure in sight. If the domed earth above me fell in, I would be crushed under thousands of tons of rock. 

My tomb began to fall in on me and I could now see the bright cool light of the moon. The ceiling broke apart and crumbled into nothingness. It seemed whatever force drove me to this location prevented me from being pulverized underneath the collapsing cavern. Stone and dirt fell in directly above me, but before it reached only a hundred feet above me, it faded away like as many puffs of smoke. When the roar of the quaking bedrock above me, all that remained was a singular cliff a half mile high encircling me. 

The Earth began to move between the sun and the moon, but there were still a good ten minutes before the eclipse would be complete. Under the bluish light of the full moon, I saw much more of the structure upon which I stood. Level after level progressed into an unending darkness below, the pyramid rising out of a seeming abyss. On the lowest tier visible, I saw movement. 

A hoard of the dream shadows climbed out of the inky blackness below. It was exactly as in my dream. I watched that darkness that hitchhiked with me from my sleep climbing the ancient pyramid. Desperately I searched for some way to save myself as the formless red-eyed demons ascended the structure. The moon plunged into darkness as the Earth’s shadow obscured it from the life-giving sun. Panic so intense it made my blood sting whipped me into desperation. I wished I could remember something from my dream that gave me even the slightest glimmer of hope. 

A warm sensation washed over me when I saw a blue sapphire beneath my feet begin to glow. I stood baffled for a moment, and then I remembered the gemstone from my prophetic dreams. I reached down to touch the heavenly light, and a small alter rose out of the highest level of the pyramid. The sapphire rose in the small stone pillar until it was nearly even with my ribs. Reaching out with my left hand, I pressed my palm to the gleaming jewel. 

Suddenly, the tiers of the pyramid began to glow with an unearthly light. First the lowest level of the pyramid illuminated, and then each consecutive tier ignited with the mystical glow. My hair stood on end from the static now filling the air. With eight levels under me still to activate, I felt an intense heat begin to grow. With each successive tier filling with the holy energy, the static and temperature increased exponentially. 

As the levels illuminated, it tore the forms of the climbing demons asunder. The ethereal dream creatures were obviously no match for the energy produced by the pyramid. Unfortunately, the heat became more than I could bear, and I removed my hand from the blue sapphire switch. 

The light radiating from each tier of the stone structure instantly ceased. I watched as the red eyes of more of the intangible entities of darkness resumed their rush upward to me. Once again, I pressed the palm of my hand to the clear blue gem. Again, the pyramid started the initiation process. As before, the tiers of the ancient construct filled with energy one by one. Although I could see the lowest level of the pyramid, the ground around it seemed to swim in an inky blackness. Perhaps it stood upon no surface at all. Perhaps it rose through the earth from another world. 

As it did previously, the shadow beings were being eradicated by the radiating tiers of the pyramid. I could feel every atom in my body vibrating from the intense energy. With only four levels remaining cold inert stone, I noticed the hair falling from my head. Blisters appeared on my arms and I felt the rest of my skin burning from the heat. 

When only two tiers remained, my body was so weak I could barely remain standing. Sparks filled my eyes and my mind grew cloudy as the energy of the structure took its grueling toll on me. The pain was excruciating, and it took everything in me to hold my hand upon the blue stone. 

Finally, the tier upon which I stood flared up with the otherworldly energy. The radiation blinded me as fluid seeped from the charring blisters covering every inch of my skin. At my feet lay the hair that once covered my head and the soles of my shoes melted out from under me. My hand now began to show exposed bone and muscle tissue. Never did I imagine pain could ever reach this intensity. 

Throughout my life I suffered in terror. These shadow ones tormented me every time I slept, using me as their conduit into this world. It was an invasion, and I stopped it. 

My heart stopped and the flow of blood to my brain ceased. I met with my destiny. I saved the world and no one would ever know. I thwarted the invasion, they were coming to take back a world that once belonged to them, and all I had to do was keep my hand on that dead man’s switch. 

 Copyright 2019 ©

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Sea of Light

Word Count: 3,298

I needed some time alone, some time away from the everyday stress of the busy city. I traveled to a vacation home I owned on the beach in an attempt to get away from the rigors of life, even if it was only for a short while. The sky betrayed the fact that a storm front was pushing into the area. By the time I reached the beach, the sky far over the water was dark and gray, but there were no signs of high winds or even a sheet of rain. 

My father taught me to sail before I was even a teenager. We spent more time during the summers on the water than on land. Now I enjoyed getting out on the water with nothing but me, the sea, and the thoughts in my head.  

My father passed away only days before my eighteenth birthday and left me the beach house and his three sailboats in his will. I spent as much time as I could sailing the ocean. When I was out there, it felt like I was one with the sea. 

On this particular occasion, my wife asked me not to go. She said she had a feeling something bad was going to happen. I did not listen to her though. Her premonitions did not worry me. I wanted to forget the stress of work and the congested life in the city, so I decided to go off on another one of my trips. 

Although all my training told me not to, I sailed beyond the sight of land. I could see the weather front pushing in fast. Lightening flashed out of the sky to strike the foamy waves, but no rain or wind accompanied it. I knew I had to get back to shore, so I turned sail and tried to head on back. The light wind filled the sail and pushed me back toward home. I began to worry when I realized the water was pulling me out faster than the wind was pushing me in. I never caught sight of land before the furious storm reached me and my small boat. 

Waves crashed against my small craft and tossed me about. Lightning struck the water every few seconds, but there was still nothing but a light breeze in the air. I took the sail down anyway and tried to ride the waves using the rudder. Crest after crest pushed the stern of the boat into the air which then slapped hard back down onto the water. 

I knew what to do in this situation, but I never actually did it before. I tried to remember the survival tips my father taught me when I was young. Opening a deck panel, I retrieved four large jugs. I tied each to the boat with a rope, filled them with water, and dropped them over the four sides of the boat. These water anchors kept the boat more stable in the writhing waves. 

Pellets of rain began falling and struck me with such force that it stung my skin. Between this combined with a sudden rush of cold air, I felt like I was on fire. Even with the help of the anchors, the boat thrashed up and down. I strained with the rudder trying to keep myself facing into the waves, but the force of the water was too much. The helm snapped and the boat turned sideways into the wake. There was nothing more I could do. Within minutes the boat capsized. 

The angry sea tossed and threw me about. It was difficult to determine which way was up, and I choked on the salty water as I tried to breathe. The sea churned me about for more than an hour before its wrath finally passed me by on its way to land. When the storm ended exactly, I did not know, but when peace came to the water, I found myself lying on the hull of my overturned craft. 

The rain and wind were gone, but the icy cold remained. My soaking wet clothes clung to my body and chilled me to the bone. One of my legs still hung in the frigid water. It was very numb, and I found it incredibly difficult to pull it back onto the boat. I did finally manage it. I guess I was paying too much attention to my struggle because I did not see the dense fog roll in. 

In air this cold there should not be any fog. I did not give that too much thought as I strained my eyes in an attempt to peer through the heavy mist. Rather than being a single mass of fog, the mist appeared to be layered horizontally like curtains. Each layer of the fog was about a foot thick and rose higher than I could possibly see. The curtains of eerie fog had about two or three inches of clear air in between them. 

It was the strangest fog I ever saw in my life. I heard of such a thing from old sea farer’s stories kept alive from generation to generation through song, poetry, and story. I could only figure that the change in air pressure caused the odd strata in the mist. That must be it. Perhaps it was due to fluctuations in temperature. Whatever caused it, there must be a rational explanation for it. Even so, it scared me to no end. 

A disconcerting stillness lay across the seas surface; the calm after the storm. My heart skipped a beat when I heard a thump against the side of the boat. I struggled to turn myself over and saw that it was a foam buoy bearing the name of my vessel. 

My wife was always on my back about keeping important items in foam floats in the case of occasions such as this. It was not easy, but I managed to grip the strap of the buoy and pulled it out of the water. The sea may have damned me, but something must have been looking out for me. At the end of the strap was a clear plastic bag. The protective pouch contained a box of waterproof matches, a bottle of lighter fluid, and best of all, my flare gun. 

Dripping some of the fluid onto the hull of the boat, I struck one of the wax coated matches and started a small fire. Adding only a few drops at a time, I slowly managed to warm my hands to bring some color back to them. Keeping the fire small, the lighter fluid burned, but the hull did not. 

I knew I would run out of the lighter fluid soon, so I had to figure out something else I could burn. My boots did me no good on my feet. Cold seawater filled them both. With my hands warm enough to function, I removed on of the boots from my feet. Dripping the flammable fluid onto the sole of the boot, I burned the rubber to produce heat. The rubber burned slowly, consuming the sole downward much more so than outward. This just might work. Maybe, just maybe I could keep myself from freezing to death before I was rescued. 

I continued to warm my hands. I did not want to take the chance of dropping the flare gun into the water, so I did not remove it until I regained all feeling to my hands. As my fingers warmed and sensation returned, my knuckles throbbed with agonizing pain. 

I had four flares, one in the chamber and three in the bag. Once I made sure the gun was loaded, I fired a glowing flare into the air. The burning red sphere produced a hellish rainbow effect amongst the layers of fog. I imagined the gateway to hell appeared much the same way. Red, yellow and orange light moved through the misty curtains with a hypnotic fluidity. 

A chill filled my soul and I found myself with my eyes closed tightly as I prayed for the light to fade. When I could hear the sizzling of the flare no more, I fought through my terror and opened my eyes. The red light of the flare was gone, but now the fog seemed to be glowing on its own. The illumination it produced shone with a beautiful, bluish hue. I was not sure if that was some chemical reaction with the flare or if I was only now noticing it. 

I was not sure how long I floated there, but I was sure that the sun should have already risen. I was positive I was out here for hours, at least that is what I thought. The fog did not dissipate at all; it actually seemed thicker. Sunlight should burn away the fog, but the sun did not rise. I floated there for a couple of more hours and decided to launch another flare into the air. Surely there would have to be someone within sight of my beacon. 

I saw something that spared me with the first flare. I squeezed my eyes shut like a frightened child. I knew what I just saw was no more than a figment of my imagination. Perhaps the delusion was caused by the cold. When my flare lit up the dark sky, I saw a ghostly specter hovering in the fog. I found myself reciting the Lord’s Prayer as the ethereal image stared at me with strong intent. 

There was something strikingly familiar about the phantom being I watched drifting weightlessly in the curtains of fog. There was something about it that seemed to scare me more than death itself. Trembling from horror and stabbing cold, I thought the wraith in the mist was trying to reach out to me. It wanted to pull me in. 

The flare burned itself out, and the ghastly rainbow of the hell spawned colors slowly faded. Eventually, when the flare was gone, I again found myself surrounded by the glowing blue fog. I could see the apparition no more. It faded away along with the light of the flare. 

I thought it had to be a product of my imagination. I was a reasonable man, and the most reasonable explanation for what I just saw was that I was delusional. The cold, the fear of death, and the anomalous fog combined in my head making me see things that simply were not there. No other explanation made sense. I knew that, to survive, I had to keep my senses about me. 

Clear mucus dripped from my nostrils, and I realized I was crying. I did not feel this much terror when I thought the sea was going to swallow me to a drowning death. I tried to stifle my tears, but try as I might all I could do was tremble and sob. 

In an instant, my hopes were renewed. Someone must have seen my flare because I could hear a light splashing far out of my range. The sound was one I knew very well. I was listening to oars as they trod their way through the haunting stillness. My head swam with excitement and my heart felt as if it would jump right out of my chest. With my back against the boat, I forced my stiff body up until I was resting on my elbows. Although I still could not see anything, I easily determined the direction of the welcomed noise. 

I parted my stiff lips and tried to scream. My parched throat burned, and I could not produce anything but a faint grunt. Frantically I rubbed my throat with my free hand trying to warm it enough to call for help. At the same time, I brushed my tongue up and down the bottom of my mouth trying to work up enough saliva to lubricate my burning vocal cords. 

The vessel drew closer, but it was not coming toward me. Whoever it was, they were going to pass right by me. A new horror took over my thoughts. I was only inches from rescue, and they were not going to find me. 

I fell to my back, and the impact made a hollow thud against the hull of the boat. That gave me an idea. I removed the hand from my throat and began to pound against the overturned craft. Three short, three long and then three short thumps against the boat. I could not remember much of the Morse code I was taught as I learned to sail. There was the one signal no sailor ever forgot. Three short, three long, three short. S-O-S. 

I paused to listen but did not hear anything. Again, I repeated the pattern three times. For several minutes the silence continued. I thought the captain of the other boat must be trying to figure out where in the fog I was. Someone should call out for me. I know they heard my plea for help. 

To my relief, I heard the oars resume their work. The echo off of the water made it sound like a multitude of oars splashing in perfect synchronization. It brought to mind the Viking ships of centuries past. I would welcome it if they would pull me out of the water. Whatever kind of craft it was, I could hear that their trajectory now pointed them toward me. 

I was sure the ship was just about within my sight. The sound of the oars grew louder and a strange, acoustic echo became apparent. It struck that the odd chorus of oars may only be a product of my convulsively shivering body. My burning hope temporarily distracted my weary mind from the unforgiving cold. 

I pounded the S-O-S one more time on the hull of the boat then focused my energy on getting myself back onto my elbows. The sudden rush of blood made my ears roar with a high-pitched scream as I strained my cold stiffened body upward. It took me several minutes, but I finally mustered up enough will to lift my pruned body up from the hull. I tried to focus, tried to listen through the pain and my ringing ears so I could hear my approaching rescuers. 

When the deafening ring faded enough, I could hear the oars splashing in the water once again. I was sure it would be in sight any second. The next moment, my hopes were dashed. The rowing stopped. I tried to be patient. I must have been in the water for twenty-four hours now, so a few more seconds would not kill me. The crew of the other boat was probably only trying to make sure that they did not ram me. 

That would be a cruel irony, to survive this long in the piercing cold only to be plowed into the water by the very ship attempting to rescue me. When the oars once again resumed, I involuntarily began to chuckle. My throat stung in agony as my dry vocal cords tried to form that universal sign of joy called laughter. It was okay, I tried to tell myself. Soon I would be pulled from the sea and given fresh water to soothe my mouth and throat. 

My hope came to a peak when it occurred to me that something sounded different about the approaching ship. The tone of the splashing…. Oh God in Heaven, the ship was now rowing away from me. Again, I tried to force a scream through my burning throat but coughed up blood instead. Even now the idea of using the flare gun gripped me with fear. That was my only hope. I could not call out, and my potential rescuers were going in the wrong direction. 

Never having left my hand, I raised the flare gun up once again and reluctantly pulled the trigger. I felt no relief when the fog again shimmered and pulsed with lights as red as blood. The grim ghost of the mist was there to greet me and the smell of burning sulfur from the flare stung my nose. I considered throwing myself into the water to drown. I thought that was what the apparition wanted though. It wanted me to die. It wanted to take me through that mist to the hell from which it came. 

Despite my terror, I stared directly at my tormentor until the flare burned away. When only the peaceful blue glow in the fog remained, I could still faintly see the specter of the mist. I knew there was something very familiar about the vision in the fog, but I could not put my finger on it. 

Could I have dreamed it, and the terror of my situation brought it back to mind? Was I hallucinating or was the spirit in the mist real? 

Lost in my thoughts of the haunting wraith, I failed to pay attention to the sound of the other boat. The rowing continued to grow fainter as the ship moved off into the distance. I knew they could not have missed that flare. It illuminated the fog as far as I could see. Why were they not coming back for me? 

Tears trickled down my face dripping into my ears. The other vessel was gone. My rescuer was gone and my nose stung from the smell of burning sulfur. 

A thud sounded against my boat, and I strained to turn my head. I prayed it was another one of my buoys. I pleaded to everything in heaven that it contained my bottled water. Instead of finding lifesaving gear, I turned to look at a bloated dead tuna floating in the water. Its clouded eyes sunk into the head, and soon I saw more lifeless fish. The water was full of them. 

I long ago lost the feeling in my feet. I peered at them and it was just as I feared. My toes were all a dark purple and my toenails were black. I was going to lose my feet. Frostbite damage to my feet was too great. I was going to survive this. I had to. Now I could only hope that I would not lose anymore limbs. 

I pulled the bag containing the matches and lighter fluid up to my side. With a fumbling hand, I first tried to pull out the lighter fluid. As I dug for the matches, I heard a scraping and then a plop. The lighter fluid slid off the hull and into the water. 

That was it. I was ready to give up. I could not take this merciless torture any longer. I let go of the matches and let them fall into the water as well. I was just going to lay there until the cold air showed the warmth of my breath no more. I dropped my hands to my side and allowed the pistol to slip from my grip and into the water. 

My right arm was resting on something. With ever increasing difficulty, I pulled the plastic bag up to my chest. Inside were three flares. I never reloaded the gun. I fired the damn thing three times, but I never reloaded it once. How did I fire one flare three times? 

The ghastly image manifested in the glow of the heavenly blue light and I realized why it seemed so familiar. A surge of warmth washed over me like a wave. I lay there staring at the face of my father. That meant, that meant I must be, I was…. 

I reached my hand up to meet the grip of the specter. The pain was gone; my fear was gone. His strong loving arms pulled me from the agony of the icy water and into that sea of light. 

Copyright 2019 ©

Views: 2

Cabin in the Woods

Word Count: 2,121

When I was a child, I spent most of my autumn season with my family in the forest cutting firewood deep in the Alabama forests. My father made a meager living working as a cobbler fixing the soles of cowboy boots and dress shoes. I remember hearing my mother saying once that she was ashamed of him because people walk all over his work. Sure, he worked on shoes, so people obviously walked on his work. It always upset me to hear her say that.

We did not have the financial means to use the furnace to keep the house warm throughout the winter months. Instead, we warmed our home through the use of our fireplace. The cold season this far south did not last as long as it did when we lived in Virginia, but it still grew very cold. If we did not collect enough wood to stack to the height of the privacy fence in our back yard, we would likely die from hypothermia or frostbite. 

I resented not having the opportunity to spend the weekends playing with my school friends, but I still managed to have plenty of fun playing out in the woods exploring and dreaming up imaginary settings. Some days I would pretend I was on an alien planet and others I was in an ancient forest contending with demons, dragons and the like. 

My teacher praised me for my ability to come up with some of the most creative stories she said she saw from other children my age. I could compose some of the most intriguing and imaginative stories even adults found to be interesting reads. 

With school on fall break, I spent less time writing and more time in the woods hauling firewood to the truck. For my father, carrying a large armload of the split wood was not a problem, but at my age even two pieces was almost too much to carry. 

Dad did not make me work the entire time. He knew kids needed time to play. After performing my part of the task, a local boy and I would run off into the seemingly endless forest to play. 

I felt kind of bad for my friend. His family was poorer and more necessitous than I thought a family could be. His dad was a terrible alcoholic and never worked. 

Their meager home did not even have running water. The only light inside the house radiated from the fireplace or from kerosene lamps; they had no electricity. 

Typically, Hubert and I followed the same basic path through the woods and came to know some of the landmarks quite well. Looking back, I wish we stayed on the regular path this time, but instead we decided to follow a trail we never explored thus far. 

This pathway led into a thick part of the forest. The canopy cover was so thick it almost looked like night time under the massive trees. Something about this place spooked me, but I blew it off as my active imagination. I trotted along behind Hubert as we progressed along the unusually worn path. I did not know if animals or people wore the trail, but it seemed worn more than any animal trail should be. 

Ten minutes or so along the path, Hubert climbed onto the lower branches of one of the trees to see if he could see anything up ahead. As he scanned the horizon, he pointed deeper into the woods and informed me he could see a clearing way up ahead. Hubert did not think it was much farther than we already traveled, so we decided to proceed on. 

My friend underestimated the distance, and it took us nearly thirty more minutes to reach our destination. I suggested turning back, but Hubert insisted we walk until we found it. He lived in this region his entire life and never once saw this place. He just had to get a closer look at the small building. 

In the center of the clearing sat an old cabin, which looked like it was built sometime in the late 19th century. The horizontal logs making up the sides of the cabins displayed deep gaps between each of the hand cut sections of wall. On the top side of many logs, I noticed were notches cut into the wood to create strategic areas from which to fire rifles and other fire arms. I did not know if they were shooting at Indians or if they were fighting in the Civil War. 

There was a darkness about this place, and a deep sense of dread washed over me. I really wanted to turn back and find where my parents continued to cut firewood. I tried to play it cool and told Hubert we were gone from the others for a while, and maybe we should get back. 

Hubert was curious and excited. He lived in this area all his life and this is the first time he ever visited this place. He wanted to go inside the cabin and see what it was like there. I tried telling Hubert the wood might not be stable and the building might easily fall over. Again, I tried to make the statement in a way that did not display my fear. 

That was not going to stop my friend and he quickly approached the building. My trepidation told me to stop. I desperately wanted to turn and run, but I was not going to run away and leave my friend in this haunting place alone. 

Hubert froze as he reached the doorless entrance. I think he must have felt the same fear I did, but when he turned around a look of adventure gleamed from his eyes. He appeared to have the excitement of someone discovering a new land for the first time. 

Although it was nothing more than a small, old building, it seemed to him much more of a major discovery. Waving his hand, he beckoned me to approach the building as well. For a moment I found my feet refused to budge. My natural instinct and perception told me this was a place where I should not be. It took a lot of willpower to finally start my feet moving one in front of the other. 

My head spun as if I had a few beers in me, but we were unable to sneak any bottles out of either family’s ice chests before bounding deeper into the forest. A wave of nausea passed over me as I grew closer and closer to the building. My breathing increased and my shoulders and neck began to tremble as if I were shivering from the cold. 

Again, I tried to tell Hubert we should not enter the centuries old dwelling. This time I used the excuse the floor of the structure would not support us and give out causing one or both of us injury. It appeared nothing was going to deter my friend from entering the hand-cut log building. 

I was perhaps ten or twelve feet away when he stepped inside. He was immediately enveloped in darkness. Light should shine through the gaps in the walls, but I could not see him at all. The clearing was large enough to allow plenty of sunshine to highlight the old building, but for some reason did not seem to illuminate the inside of the log cabin. 

My heart beat so hard I thought it would burst out of my chest. I approached the point of absolute terror. I could not see Hubert at all, and I was sure some malevolent force drug him to hell or worse. I turned and was just about to run when I heard his voice call to me from inside. 

It took everything I had in me, but I turned back to the cabin and slowly and cautiously approached the building. Once I stood at the open doorway, I was able to faintly see inside. Hubert stood near the center of the one room dwelling. He appeared as almost nothing but a faint shadow, and I was not able to make out anything else in the room. 

Hubert beckoned once again, and despite all of my fear, my logic and my instincts, I stepped through the darkening entrance. 

Even now I was also in the shade of the home, I could see my friend no better than before. I thought the drop in direct sunlight would make the illumination from between the old cedar logs more intense. Instead, it seemed to grow even darker, if that were possible. 

I called out his name in a loud whisper. Hubert replied to my call, but it sounded as if he were far in the distance. We could not be more than twenty feet from one another, yet it felt like we were a mile apart. 

A sensation of insignificance washed over me as I suddenly felt as if I were comparing myself to the entirety of the universe. In the darkness of the dwelling, it was as if no walls existed, only endless space. 

Although I could see nothing but a vague image of my friend, I thought I saw the darkness in the room move and take on a tangible form. I could not see anything, but I somehow knew it was there. 

Intense reluctance prevented me from running, but I knew I would have to flee this place if I wanted to continue to live. I was not sure if it was something holding me there or if it was my own intense fear keeping me from running. 

In the virtually absolute darkness, I was not really sure what I saw inside the age-old structure. I knew it had to be nothing but my imagination, but I thought I could see more than just my friend inside. The unnatural darkness inside the old home prevented me from gaining a clear view or even a vague view of anything inside. 

A shrieking scream pierced the darkness with a reverbing echo, giving me the sensation of being deep in a dark cavern. When the scream came again, I realized it emanated from the lips of my friend. Hubert called out to me for help. He shouted that the thing, whatever it may be, was trying to consume his very soul. 

The cold ash-filled chimney suddenly burst into a blaze. The initial ignition caused a concussive force that almost knocked me to my feet. The flash blinded me for a moment as my eyes were struggling to see in the darkness when the fire erupted. An amorphous red blob filled my vision, but I still thought I could see more than my friend in the one room dwelling. 

I do not know if there was anything I could have done. There was nothing I could offer into the situation that could fend off the thing consuming my friend. All I could do at this point was run. I turned to the open doorway, and it appeared to be far off in the distance. I ran until I passed out of the darkness and into the light. I did not stop running until I made it back to our familiar pathway. 

My legs collapsed as my lungs nearly gave out. It was still a time when children played outside, but I was not an athlete by any means. I fell to my knees and dug my palms into the dirt and rock. Rolling to one shoulder, I saw my hands bleeding and caked in dirt. Finally, I fell to my back and looked into the direction from which I came. 

I saw nothing but a mass of weeds and a dense cluster of ancient trees. No pathway, no trail to the open circle remained in the forest giving any evidence of where I just was. There was nothing there. 

Hubert told me once of a legend of a family living in this forest during the time of the Civil War. It was said that this family, in order to save their land, called upon things of darkness to destroy their enemies. Their plot succeeded, but at a terrible price. 

The forest itself consumed the family and their home once the enemy was vanquished from the area. It isolated the family from the rest of the world and the story said they were never heard from again. 

I cannot say exactly what I heard coming from inside the structure, but I realized the family was heard from again. I heard the terror of my friend along with that unholy howling. I heard the demonic wailing of beings born of vengeance and evil. I found that rumored cabin in the woods. 

Copyright © 2019

 

Views: 3

Leave Us Alone

Word Count: 8,115

Most children have imaginary friends when they are young, and I was no different. My parents marveled at my imagination. They thought I was very creative because I could describe my friends in expressly intricate detail. Most of my friends were not people. Some of them were animals, and some were very abstract. 

My parents allowed me to play with my imaginary friends all day. I was their only child, and we lived an hour away from the nearest store. In the 400+ square miles that made up our scattered community, only a couple of dozen families occupied the region. Until I began school, the only time I saw children my own age was when we needed to go to town for groceries or canning supplies. 

Although I never realized it, I grew up in extreme poverty. Most of the food we ate was what mother could grow in the garden. She was out there every day killing bugs and pulling weeds. She could not miss one long day of work without threatening our food supply for the next several weeks. 

Most of the vegetables grown in our garden were the kind that produced a high turnover. Summer squash, tomatoes, and okra dominated the garden during the spring and summer. Before fall drew too near, I helped her plant turnips, radishes, and winter squash. 

Father did odd jobs for other families in the region to earn some money. Jimmy Carter was president of the United States and we watched as one industry after another moved out of the country. In four years, the man managed to turn the economy from one based on production to one based on service. The money this country worked so hard to generate over a hundred years was gone in less than four. 

Many farms in the state were going bankrupt. Father’s family lost the land our name farmed for six generations. Most everyone moved away after grandma and grandpa died. Father was stubborn and refused to leave the land in which he was raised. We lived on the six acres that we were left after the bank foreclosed on her hereditary farm. 

The families who retained their farms threw my father worked when they could. The banks sold the foreclosed lands to large farming conglomerates who made it difficult for the locals to compete. Even more families lost their farms as the corporations made it too expensive to match. The large companies had the buying power to keep up with the latest agricultural technology advances. Most family-owned farms used equipment a decade old. 

Since my parents never had any time available for me, they did not think too much about my friends and I spending the day playing out in the yard. They were glad that I was happy and content. I never whined for more than I already had, and I could keep myself occupied for hours. 

I was polite. I had good manners, and I always treated my elders with respect. Mom and dad thought I was a perfect child. It made me happy to make them proud. 

When I began attending school, my happy life started to change. Initially, I had no trouble making friends in kindergarten. At that age, many children still played with imaginary friends. The more I played with other children, the less I liked to do so. When playing pretend, other children sometimes told me what my imaginary friends were doing in relation to theirs. 

It upset me that the other children seemed to presume to know what my long-time friends did. I knew mom and dad could not see my companions. I figured that out long before I started school. I knew this because my parents never paid attention to them. After I started school, I thought the other children might be able to see them. At first, I thought they could. School was new to us all, and when the children of my class played together, we pretended to be in many wondrous places and to see many spectacular things. 

I quickly began to realize that no one else really saw my lifelong companions. The other children acted like they saw my friends, but their descriptions of what they saw were always wrong. I could not see their imaginary friends either, and that initially seemed normal. What told me otherwise where the inconsistencies. The other childrens’ descriptions of their friends changed too often as did their behavior. This was when I realize their imaginary friends really were imaginary. 

As the school year progressed, the other children slowly forgot about their imaginary friends. Now they had real friends, they no longer needed to pretend. My imaginary friends on the other hand went nowhere. I soon found it difficult to interact with other children in my grade. As they grouped off and started to forming cliques, they shunned me. 

Eventually I became the object of ridicule. My classmates called me a baby because I still played with imaginary friends. What was I supposed to do? I could not make them go away. At times they left of their own accord, but it did not usually take long before more appeared. I tried to ignore them, thinking perhaps they would go away. Not only did they not go away, they tried harder and harder to get my attention. 

The school year was winding down, and my teacher was concerned that I grew increasingly withdrawn from the other children. She called my parents to the school for a parent – teacher conference. They made me sit in the secretary’s office so I would not know what they were discussing. I did not need to be in there; some of my friends were. They constantly went in and out, relaying to me what was being said. 

My teacher thought I had some sort of behavioral disability. Mother asked if I fell behind on my work, but the teacher told her no. Mother asked if I had difficulty learning. Again, the teacher told her no. Dad asked if I was being disruptive or causing problems in class. Again, the answer was no. 

My parents did not understand why my teacher thought there was a problem. She told them that I am still playing with imaginary friends while other children went on to play with each other. She told my mom and dad that she thought my problems stemmed from home. 

I did not need to have my friends tell me what happened next. I heard it through the door just fine on my own. 

“How dare you,” my mother shouted. “You have no idea what my family has been through.” 

“I’m sorry we all can’t have government jobs like you lady,” father added. “Some of us have to work for a living.”

The teacher tried to defend herself, but my parents did not give her time. 

“How many children do you have?” Mother demanded. 

“None,” the lady said, “but I have taken many childhood development courses while….” 

She was not allowed to finish. 

“Then you know diddly squat about how or what it’s like to raise a child,” mother yelled. “When you have a kid, I’ll make sure to come back when he’s in school and tell you everything I think is wrong with him.” 

That was the end of the conversation. My parents stormed out of the conference room. I thought they would yell at me, but they did not. It was quite the opposite. When they stepped out of that office, their faces were red with anger. 

“Come on son,” my mom said gently. “Let’s go home.” 

State law did not require children to attend kindergarten, so my parents kept me out for the last two weeks before summer vacation. That was fine with me. I already saw the flaws in the developing school social structure. I was happy to be away from that place. 

Mom needed my help in the garden anyway. The squash and okra came in like wild due to recent rains. We had to get it all washed, cut, and canned while it was still good. Tomatoes and onions were coming in real nice too. That meant we could get to eat some fresh stewed okra and tomatoes for a while. Add in some fried squash and cornbread and we had some good meals coming. 

One of the family’s father helped on occasion raised hogs. When they were unable to pay dad the amount they promised him on a job, they sent him home with one of their fattest pigs. That was better than money. We could get much more meat out of that hog than we could ever have with the money. The problem was that we did not have an ice box in which to store the meat. 

A few days later he came home with meat packing paper and tape. Early the next morning, we got the scalding tub boiling then Dad put a bullet in the hog’s skull. The hams were cured in brine along with some of the fat. We spent the whole day processing the hog and, in exchange for the loins, another neighbor stored the perishable meat for us in their freezer. 

We used every part of the hog we could. Dad took the head and made headcheese with it. The belly we salted and cold smoked for a week to make some good bacon. We did not smoke hams until they soaked in brine for a couple of weeks. We even boiled up the skin until it was good and soft which we then fried crispy. 

Even the cartilage at the knuckles of the bones was used. Mom rendered that down into gelatin which she later used to make jellies and preserves. The roasted bones added flavor to our black-eyed peas. Mom even pickled the feet to save for the winter months. We did not let one part of that animal go to waste. 

My friends understood I was busy and left me alone. Once the hams were hanging and the canning was finished for now, I went back to spending my days playing on ours and the surrounding land. We made up games and played for hours on end. I did not need toys or television. Nature provided plenty of entertainment for a creative child.

A few years later, when I entered the second grade, I already had the reputation of being “that weird kid.’ I saw the hierarchy form among my classmates. The biggest and dumbest kid stood on top, keeping other kids in line by beating them up. In the third week of the school year, the brute turned his sights on me.

We were the same size in kindergarten and in the first grade. He must have drunk too much of that hormone filled corporate milk, because he nearly doubled in size by the time we made it to the second grade. He backed me against the wall. Pushing me hard, he may my back bounce away from the wall only to slam me back into it again. 

One of my companions could no longer watch the other boy bully me and took action. This particular friend was the last one I thought would act violently. I called him Pinky, at least I think it was a he. Pinky’s  body was as round as a ball and covered in pink hair. Pinky had two fixed eyes, one on each end of its body. Above each of those another eye rose up on a ropey stalk. He did not have a mouth I had ever seen. Pinky moved about using long tendrils that reminded me of long bottle brushes. 

My pink friend wrapped one of his tendrils around the boy’s leg and squeezed. The bully screamed in pain and fell writhing to the ground. When Pinky let go of the kid’s leg, he left a mass of wire like spines embedded in the boy’s skin. My tormentor grabbed his shins as he cried tears of agony. I thought his hand would brush away the spines, but it passed through them like they were not there. 

I yelled at Pinky, scolding him for his actions. The eyes of the other children turned back from the child squirming on the ground to stare at me. They all looked at me with such fear in their eyes that I expected them all to run. Instead, they all stood glaring at me. 

Several teachers came running when they heard the commotion. One teacher lifted the sobbing boy and his arms and carried him to the nurse’s office. A second teacher demanded someone tell her what happened to the boy, and all of the other children pointed to me. I tried to tell her I did not do it, Pinky did. She snarled something about me making up stories. Grabbing my arm painfully tight, she angrily dragged me to the principal’s office. 

I tried telling themI did not do it, Pinky did. My principal told me he was tired of me lying and sat me in the empty conference room. I did not know what was going on. All of my friends ran when Pinky attacked while all the children stood in fear. I had no one around to look in the other room for me. Five minutes passed, and I heard the noise of the local fire truck pulling into the school parking lot. A few minutes later the sheriff, or one of his deputies arrived as well. 

I had to know what was going on, and I finally climbed onto the table beneath a high window. One of the firemen carried the bully to the police car. He climbed in the backseat with the boy, and the deputy threw gravel into the air as he drove away with them. 

They left me in the conference room for thirty minutes before the sheriff arrived with my mother. They stopped outside and talked with the principal and the mean teacher that drug me down here. When I saw them walking toward the building, I jumped down from the table and sat back in the seat. A few minutes later my mother, the principal, and the sheriff all came into the room. I immediately started crying. I was afraid I was going to jail. 

Mother came over and I ran into her arms. The sheriff assured me that I was in no trouble. He crouched down with his hands on his knees and looked into my eyes. 

“Do you know what happened to Brandon?” he asked me. 

I told him how the boy bullied me and pushed me against the wall. I hesitated before I went on any further. Telling them the truth about Pinky was obviously not going to work. No one believed my pink furry friend existed, and continuing to insist it was his fault would only make me look like more of a liar. Instead, I told them that the boy pushed me a few times and then fell down crying. 

“Did you see a spider or any kind of bug on the kids leg?” the sheriff inquired. 

I shook my head feebly and replied, “No sir.” 

The sheriff told me to try and remember. He asked me if I saw a bee, wasp, or even a horse fly buzzing about at the time of the confrontation. 

I told him no, but he asked me again, asking me if I was absolutely certain. I had assured him I did not see any spider or any other kind of bug bite the boy. This was not a lie. Pinky was not a bug. I did not know what he was, but he was not a bug. 

After a few more questions, the sheriff drove mother and me home. Apparently, the buses already took most everyone else home. 

The boy stayed in the hospital about an hour and a half away from here. School was canceled until they could make sure that the building was fumigated and disinfected. The doctors could not figure out what was wrong with the boy. The hospital placed him in quarantine. They even flew in specialists from the CDC. No one knew what made him so sick, and it became a worry that some previously unknown virus was attacking that bully’s body. Until it could be identified, the parents did not want their children congregating in one place. 

Three days after the attack, the boy died. They said something destroyed his internal organs, but none of the doctors could find a cause. His body was sent to some special hospital research facility. No children were allowed to go to school or even to play with the other children because their parents feared for their lives. 

I knew what happened. When my friends began to return, they told me Pinky’s spines introduced a poison into his system. Normally, in his own world, Pinky’s poison only caused temporary paralysis of the attacked tissue. None of them knew it would affect the human and such a gruesome way. 

I knew Pinky did not mean to kill the boy, and I eventually got past my anger with him. My little pink friend acted like a scolded puppy until I forgave him. I made him promise not to hurt anyone else again. He could not answer me, not in any traditional way, but I knew he understood. 

Three weeks after the incident, it was determined it was no poisonous insect or reptile that killed the boy nor did any detectable pathogen. School resumed. Even though nobody saw me do anything to the bully, they all stayed away from me. They stopped picking on me, they stop sitting near me, and they stop playing with me on the playground. They were all afraid of dying if they got near me. In light of the Pinky incident, I cannot say I blamed them. 

Rumors circulated saying that I was cursed. The story grew until it was my whole family that was cursed. That, people said, was why our crops failed to the point that we lost our land. Banks foreclosed on a dozen farms, but that did not matter. We were the only ones to be labeled as being cursed. 

A new family bought some of the seized land at the end of my fourth-grade year. The man that bought the land thought the whole notion of a curse was idiotic. He knew many farms failed and were foreclosed upon, and he did not think my family any different. He felt bad for us so he gave Dad a regular job on his farm. 

The new family had three children. One boy who was two years older than me, would attend the junior high school in the fall. Their youngest boy was only going to the first grade, but their daughter was the same age as me. I played with her on several occasions while my dad was working for hers. We played for hours at a time, and I grew quite fond of her. 

When I began the fifth grade, Tamara and I spent a lot of time together. The other children did not want to play with me because of the whole cursed story. They would not play with Tamara because she was friends with me. 

Her older brother did not like her being my friend. He thought Tamara was going to have enough trouble making friends at a new school. When he heard the stories about me, he decided to confront me. 

The elementary school and junior high school students rode the same buses. One day, when Tamara stayed home sick, her brother told me I better not ever come over to his house again. He said, if I did not stop hanging around with her, he was going to beat me up. He also said, if I told Tamara about this, he would beat me up even more. Her brother was a big kid, and his threats deeply scared me. 

The next day Tamara came to school, she sat beside me on the bus. I could only think of her brother’s threats. I kept my eye on him the whole ride to school. He sat at the front of the bus instead of the back as usual with the older children. He glanced back at us once. As soon as he saw me watching him, Tamara’s brother snapped his gaze back to the front of the bus. It was clear he was suddenly afraid of me. I began to worry that one of my friends did something to him. I would have to talk with them when we had some privacy. 

All the ones I knew said they did not do anything to the brother. Not all of them were known for their honesty, but I believed them. If they did not scare the brother into leaving me alone, who did? That would be a question I would not answer for many years. 

Our first day and junior high school was mostly a day of learning our way around. The second day things already turned sour. Tamara and I stood in front of her locker talking before lunch, and a group of five eighth-grade girls approached us. 

The girls were really mean to Tamara. They made fun of her hair, laughed at her for not wearing makeup, and said bad things about her choice of clothing. I expected her to get upset and cry, but she did not. Instead, she shot back with her own insult. 

“Ooo,” she said. “It took five of you to come up with all of that. What, do you all share one single brain?” 

The five popular girls did not know how to come back. One of them warned her to mind her place than the five sauntered off. The girls made it to the entrance to the cafeteria, and the one in the middle fell flat to her face. It looked like someone grabbed her by the feet, but none of my companions were anywhere near them. She must have tripped over her own feet. 

All of the children in the hallway burst in an uproar of laughter. The stuck-up young girl climbed back to her feet and screamed to the other children to shut up. When they continued to laugh the girl began crying and ran out of the building. 

I looked at Tamara. She had a thin sly smile on her face. I was positive she knew something, but this was not the proper place to bring it up. When the opportunity arose, I would ask her how she did that. We went on to lunch and finished out the day. 

I got off the bus at her stop because I saw Dad’s truck parked at their house. He must have caught a ride to work with Tamara’s dad this morning. That was great. We had three hours before our dads returned. That gave me a chance to talk to her about the strange happening at school today. 

When we exited the bus, Tamara’s older brother got off the bus. Without ever looking at the two of us, he walked straight to their house at a faster than normal pace. I knew I had to talk to the others later. I was sure one of them had done something to the boy. 

Tamara and I walked down the long driveway escorting her younger brother. As we approached the house, she told the little one to run inside to grab a snack. Once we were alone, Tamara reached out and held my hand. She invited me for a walk. 

Blushing, I stammered a “Yes-yes.” 

Continuing to hold my hand, she led me to the woods behind their yard. She found a nice trail through the forest and took me along the path. I was so nervous, I could not think of anything to say. I never held a girl’s hand before. 

The smell of the forest was refreshing. A light breeze pushed through the trees as the insects and birds sang. It was a beautiful day. It was the perfect day for a walk. I wanted to ask her about school, but now that she was holding my hand, I did not want to ruin it. At the time all I could do was try to force myself to say something to her. 

“It sure is a nice day,” I finally managed to say. 

That was all it took. We both opened up and talked about all sorts of things. School today was not one of them. I told her how we lost our farm, how a lot of people lost their farms. I explained how large conglomerates bought most of the land, running them with high-tech machines. She feared her family bought what was once my family’s land, but I assured her they did not. 

Several weeks passed, and the two of us became inseparable. Finally, on the third celebration of our walk through the forest, I asked her to be my girlfriend. I was absolutely elated when she said yes. When I started school, I thought I would spend the next twelve years as a loner. 

The older I got, the more I could see others. I thought my preschool friends were strange. Some of my newer companions were stranger still. Not all of them were nice, but my friends protected me from the unfriendly ones. 

Years passed and many of my oldest friends no longer came around. I made other, stranger friends, but I also saw more of the beings of chaos. It seemed like those darker creatures wanted to get close to me, but so far I always had those who would protect me. I do not know what these demented creatures wanted with me, and I was always afraid to ask my companions. I felt much better not knowing. 

As our relationship progressed, I became ever more fearful that one of these chaotic creatures would harm Tamara. They seemed to come around more often when I spent time with her. The world was broadening around me and I became ever more aware that these creatures I once thought were imaginary were just as real as every person I knew. I do not know why I was the only one who could see them. I did know they surrounded me all the time. 

It did not matter what buildings or objects obstructed my movements, most of the ones I encountered moved through physical objects as if they did not exist. Sometimes they seem to have to navigate through ghostlike structures that acted like no more than a fog to me. Some of them did not appear to notice each other. 

Long ago I learned not to let on as to what I saw. After the incident with Pinky when I was in the first grade, I knew no one would believe me if I told them the truth. I lived with this lie all on my own. 

As my body and mind matured, I realize some of those things I saw were the things people called ghosts. At death, a consciousness was not destroyed, it simply passed the barrier into one of the intangible worlds. Sometimes, they could temporarily push through and move things, or appear in our world. This was the case with Pinky. His anger over my treatment allowed him to reach across and attacked the bully. 

I knew Pinky did not mean to hurt that bully, at least, he did not mean to kill him. In his world his spines are harmless. They cause pain, but in the same way as when one touches a cactus. Something made the boy’s system react violently to the intangible needles. Doctors never did figure out what killed the bully. All they found were very minute traces of an unknown compound attached to one of a million blood cells. This latest discovery was only made last year by a team of scientists working on the case all this time. 

The Halloween of my junior year in high school, Tamara and I decided to spend the night at my house. We took a walk through the woods using nothing but the moonlight. I did not tell her, but I ask a few of my formless friends to light the way for me. I was glad I asked for their company because I saw many of the devious creatures hidden throughout the forest. 

We found a nice clearing and laid on the ground staring at the stars. She talked about all of the alien life that must be up there. I agreed with her speculations not wanting to tell her we were surrounded by aliens all of the time. If I told her I talked with all sorts of creatures on a regular basis, she would break up with me for sure. I loved her too much to chase her away. I could not make her think I was insane. 

We made love for the first time. We were both 17, and we were best friends since second grade. Although we officially dated for four years, I never pressured her for sex. Tonight, it just happened. It felt like the right time. We were both ready. I never felt more in tune with her since we met. 

We shared a blissful hour together. Both of us grinning from ear to ear, we walked back through the forest to my house. The two of us could not help chuckling occasionally. Instead of holding hands, I put my arm around her lower back and her left hand was in my back pocket. I was afraid sex would make things awkward between us, but it only made things better. This was a perfect night. 

After arriving at my house, we sat on the porch swing. Sometimes we kissed flirtingly, but most of the time we spent speculating about our futures. We both did very well in school. An academic scholarship would be the only way I could go on to college. Tamara’s parents could afford to send her, but my family did well to keep the car running and the lights turned on. 

She rested her head on my shoulder and we wrapped our arms around each other. Just then some of the other kids wearing masks jumped out from their hiding spots and began pelting me and Tamara with eggs. Laughing on our humiliation, the others ran to a truck hidden off the road and tried to flee. 

I tried chasing after them. Tamara screamed. She did not cry or curse them. She simply let out a long piercing shriek. Suddenly what looked like the fangs of a giant maw rose from the ground and punctured all four of the truck’s tires. Quickly hissing out air, the heavy rubber tires instantly went flat. The exposed rims created sparks as they tossed gravel into the air. 

The guys in the bed of the truck jumped back out, and I ran at them alone. I did not doubt that all these guys were about to give me a beating of a lifetime. That did not stop me. They would not get away with doing that to the woman I loved. 

The truck’s engine suddenly went dead. When the driver turned the ignition switch, the engine smoked and then burst into flames. 

I stopped in my tracks as the two people in front of the truck jumped out and ran. I do not know how I knew it was coming, but I leapt to the ground only an instant before the gas tank exploded. I watched the four young men behind the truck lifted and thrown 30 feet through the air. It was not like in the movies. They did not stand there as the force of the explosion only move their hair. The concussive force made these guys literally fly over me and land hard on the gravel road. 

Most of my otherworldly friends fled, and the devilish ones moved in. One of them was somewhat spiderlike. A grotesque human face showed in front with two long rows of eyes. A thin whiplike tail protruded from its backend and its body was covered in many scales. The beast chased after the driver. 

It did not take the six-legged creature long to catch the young man. With its long-pointed tail, it stabbed the young man in the back of the neck. The boy collapsed and the creature continued to run until I could see it no longer. 

I felt something move under the ground beneath me, but I did not see anything. I believe the beast whose fanged maw through the truck tires was going for the four boys on the ground. I could not see it, but I did feel the ground heave slightly. Apparently, this monstrosity had a closer connection to this world than many of the others. 

The young man who took the stab in the neck cried out that he could not move. The other three tried to help him to his feet, but the kid hung there like a rag doll. I hoped that the group grotesque spider being only numbed his body and did not permanently paralyze him. I did not want to be responsible for another critical injury or possibly even a death. 

The tire rending beast rose up from the ground. It was the most horrific thing I had seen thus far. Its body was somewhat like that of a scallop. It had a hard outside shell that bulged in the center. It was almost as thick as it was wide, and it stood feet high. Surrounding the seal of the bone like shell was a row of long narrow teeth. At what I assumed was the front of the being, the needlelike fangs were nearly four feet long. As it circled around to the side, the fangs grew increasingly shorter and thinner. I yelled at it to stop calling for some of the others to help me. 

The horrid creature either could not hear me or did not care to listen. The shell opened to reveal the terrible thing inside. Attached to the inside of the shell was the true body of the thing. It was a reddish black, nothing more than a mass of sickening flesh. The mass contained many eyes and other sensory organs. It opened a sphincter typed orifice and shot out a serrated tongue like a toad. The tongue passed through the head of another of the young men. A bluish glow pulled out of the boy’s head when the tongue withdrew, and the kid crumpled to the ground. 

I do not know why, but the shelled beast withdrew back into the ground. All of the chaos creatures withdrew. They stayed within my sight, but they moved away from our assaulters. My friends still did not return. 

At my request, Tamara got in her car and drove to the nearest phone. A half hour passed before the fire truck, the deputy, and the sheriff’s car all came rushing down the gravel road. It was then that I noticed almost all of the malicious beings were gone, and some of my friends began to return. In my anger over what those jerks did to Tamara, I must have subconsciously called those monstrosities. 

Could my desire for vengeance have been strong enough to call upon those horrid things? 

The four uninjured young men were loaded into the back of the two patrol cars. With their masks off, I recognized the thugs. They were seniors in high school who happened to be close friends of Tamara’s oldest brother. This must have started out as a Halloween prank, but things did not go well for our attackers. 

The men from the fire department called for a medical helicopter when they saw the condition of the other two bullies. One of them, the young man who took the spike to the neck, could still speak. Left paralyzed from the neck down, he fared the better of the two. The other young man never moved or spoke again. He did not react to any outside stimuli. I began to think the blue light that fang toothed scallop beast removed from the boy’s head was no less than his very mind. What hell that had to be to have your mind eaten by a phantom monster. 

Medical experts concluded the two injured boys receive severe nerve damage when they were thrown through the air. They landed hard on the gravel after being thrown thirty feet. The concussive force of the exploding truck alone was sufficient to cause serious damage. 

The four seniors who did walk away from the attack were charged by the district attorney. They were held responsible for the injuries their friends sustained during the malicious attack of Tamara and me. Because the two boys were injured while they were, as a group, assaulting us; the four were all charged with attempted manslaughter. 

As part of their plea bargain, the four high school boys named Tamara’s oldest brother as the one who put them up to it. He even paid them for their services. Neither of us knew this until the Sheriff arrived at their house to arrest him. 

Tamara and I walked across an open plain, surrounded as always by creatures both cruel and kind. We enjoyed the light fall breeze when we saw the Sheriff pull onto the long driveway. He drove up to the house and Tamara’s father met him outside. The two seemed to argue for a few minutes and finally went inside. Two or three minutes passed, and the Sheriff walked out the door with Tamara’s brother in handcuffs. 

I think she knew what was going on because she did not seem overly surprised. Her brother despised the fact that Tamara and I dated. I thought about the time he threatened me if I did not stay away from his sister. He never followed through with his threat, and I always wondered why. I realized my fear and anger probably conjured something that put the fear of God into him. 

Tamara’s parents would not tell us why her brother was arrested, but I think she already knew. Word did not take long to circulate through the community, and this confirmed her suspicions. It was a subject about which we would rarely ever speak.

The four boys who pled guilty only receive three-year prison sentences. Tamara’s brother pled not guilty and chose to stand trial. Their parents were torn. On one hand, their son faced a maximum of 20 years in prison. On the other hand, this was all caused because of his cruel treatment of Tamara. In the end, they decided to hire their son a good attorney. 

He never made it to trial. Tamara’s brother hung himself from the bars of his cell three days before the trial began. The guilt of his actions must have been more than he could bear. Quite frankly, I do not understand how a brother could treat his baby sister with such cruel indifference. I cannot honestly say I was not glad he was gone. 

One month after graduation, I asked Tamara to be my wife. I had no ring to give her. I had very little to offer her in general, but she consented to be my bride anyway. Our wedding took place one week before she and I went off to college. We were accepted to the same university. She earned an athletic scholarship while I received an academic scholarship. It cost us a little bit more, but we moved into the married dorm. An apartment in town was out of the question because our scholarships would not cover off-campus housing. 

Neither of us made friends very well. Among the thousands of students attending the university, we more or less kept to ourselves. Some of the other girls on the track team started giving Tamara a hard time. She came home from practice angry almost every day. I met some of these girls at the beginning of the year and instantly sensed they were not good people. If it was not for the fact her scholarship was tied to it, she would have quit the team. 

I did not see any of my normal friends for a while, but I had no trouble making more. Just as always, there were ever present beasts and daemonic creatures. Those creatures born of chaos kept their distance until Tamara’s team troubles began. They started to draw closer. It mortified me that my desire to protect my wife might end up in the deaths of even more people. 

I did not know what I could possibly do to stop them. It seemed they responded to my emotions, and I could not change how I felt. I knew if I did not do something though, those mean girls would end up hurt or even dead. I tried to think good thoughts; I tried to give those young women the benefit of the doubt. All I could do was hope my thoughts were positive enough for the malicious ones to leave Tamara’s teammates alone. 

When my wife returned from her last class, I had our small apartment set up for romance. Scented candles illuminated the room and a trail of flower petals led to the bedroom. Surely, I could not be negative in my head while making passionate love with Tamara. Soft jazz music played in the background as our bodies intertwined. There was no way I could think of hurting someone while spending such an intimate time with the woman I loved so dearly. 

Afterwards, we held on to each other until Tamara fell gently to sleep. I went to the front room and blew out all of the candles which still burned. Most of them already burn themselves out. I picked most of the flower petals up off the floor; the rest of them I would vacuum in the morning. When I finished straightening up, I climbed back into bed, snuggled up to Tamara, and drifted off to sleep. 

When we rose for class in the morning, we took a shower together and got dressed to go. We did not even make it to our first class when we heard the rumor. One of the fraternities on campus threw a large party last night. One of the young women apparently became too intoxicated and fell off the second floor balcony. Her neck snapped on impact and she died instantly. I prayed to myself it was not one of the girls pestering Tamara. 

By the time I finished with my second class, I knew the dead girl was a member of the woman’s track team. No one I spoke with knew the girl’s name, but I had no doubt it was one of my wife’s tormentors. I tried. I did my best not even to think about those stuck-up young women, but it did not work. Again, because of my anger another person was dead. 

I did not mean for these things to happen. Those who only I can see responded to my emotional state. Never would I be able to constantly maintain a positive attitude. People were going to anger me. Suddenly it occurred to me. Tamara and I never fought, and I never wished her any sort of ill will. That day would eventually come however, and the thought of her dying because of me was more than I could bear. 

I decided I would tell her the truth tonight. She would surely think I had gone insane. How could I possibly get her to believe me that I had been able to see the inhabitants of nearby realities. Hell, I would think someone was crazy if they try to tell me such a story. I had no other choice than to tell her the truth and hope she did not walk out the door for good. 

When she got home, Tamara instantly knew something was wrong. The long look on my face gave me away. My wife walked in with a smile, but now she looked like she was about to cry. She ran to my side and wrapped her arms around my neck. 

“What’s wrong baby,” she pled. 

I could not say anything. I did not know how to begin. How could I tell my wife I could see ghosts, and they were killing those who are a focus of my negative thoughts. Finally, I pushed her back enough to look deep into her eyes. 

“Like most children, I had imaginary friends. When most kids my age grew out of that phase, I couldn’t,” I began to explain. 

I thought I might see fear or confusion or hurt in her eyes when I began, but she did not seem to react. 

“As I grew older, these imaginary friends did not go away,” I continued. “That boy, the bully who died from an unknown infection, one of my friends did that.” 

I still did not get a reaction from her. I wished Tamara would give me a hint one way or another, but I could not read the expression on her face. We have been together for more than twelve years, and I could not tell what she was thinking. 

“As I grew older, I could see more and more of them. These were no imaginary friends. Call them ghosts, aliens, or denizens of other realities. These things are real.” 

Tamara continued to listen. I was afraid by now she would have thought me insane and fled our dorm room. Instead, she seemed to be looking at me with sympathy and compassion. I thought she actually believe the strange words coming out of my mouth. 

“As I came to see more of their world, I began to see horrible things. I only saw friendly beings when I was a child, but now others have appeared. These new denizens of another world felt nothing but hate and chaos in their hearts,” I told her still expecting her to freak out and run. 

“When I get mad, some of these entities react to my negative emotions,” I continued. 

I did not know how to finish with my explanation. When I told her of the harm caused by these extra dimensional beings. How could she believe that all of those deaths were caused by creatures only I could see? 

I finally finished with my explanation, and Tamara still sat there with me holding my hands in hers. The gaze in her eyes seemed more relieved than confused or scared. It was like she somehow understood everything I said. I told her the most outrageous story in the world, and she stayed right there by my side. 

Tears dripping form her eyes, Tamara looked at me with intense love. 

“I always feared you might find out about my gift,” she said. 

“You-you can see them too?” 

“Yes, but my childhood friends were not nice. There’s a reason you have seen an increase in the number of devilish beings,” Tamara explain.” They have been following me.” 

I was absolutely stunned. Now I really did not know what to say. I was not responsible for those attacks with the exception of the Pinky incident. Tamara was. 

“Did you tell them the hurt those people?” I asked nervously. 

Now I was the one who was scared. 

“No,” she replied sadly. “I never asked them to do anything. I don’t know why I attract these things, but they do what they want to do.” 

I believed her. Those beings of the abyss followed her just like the others tended to congregate around me. It was nothing we chose and there was nothing we could do about it. 

I never felt less alone than I did now. All these years I have carried the burden of the second sight. It turned out the girl I had a crush on in elementary school, became enamored with in junior high school, and married shortly after graduating high school possess the same ability. Perhaps that was what drew us together in the first place. 

I think Tamara expected me to leave at this point, but I would never let go of her. I loved her just as much now as I did the day we married. 

I leaned over and whispered into her ear, “As long as our love stands, they will never hurt me.” 

Yes,” she replied. “When it comes to people we know, or even people we don’t know, our negative emotions will cause these hideous things to act. No matter what we do, they will never leave us alone.” 

 Copyright 2019 ©

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Father to Son

Word Count: 3,069

I grew up outside of Monroe, Louisiana. It was just me and my mother as my father passed away when I was only at the young age of five. I only carried vague images of him in my mind, but I wondered how many of these images came from a multitude of pictures I saw of him rather than genuine memories. 

Last year I lost my only grandmother, and a live-in nurse now took care of Papa. His house was on a enormous tract of land in Hebert. I could not have been more than an hour drive away, but my mother rarely brought me to visit him. Mom would make sure I was not alone with grandpa, not even for a second. 

Mother told me Papa was abusive with Dad, and for that reason she did not want me to be alone with him. It was during my ninth year I learned otherwise. Following a short drive through the country, we reached my grandpa’s house. It was a peculiar place which sat on a plot of ten thousand acres of land. The design of the house was somewhat colonial, but there was something unorthodox about it, something I could not explain. 

No trees stood on the property save a massive pecan and one gnarled, ancient walnut tree growing on either side of the house. Otherwise, the enormous tract of land was completely devoid of trees. All around the perimeter of the property the forest began, it nearly encircled the currently unused farm land but grew in no deeper. 

In the center of the property rested a singular, unnatural mound. Growing up, I heard stories that these were Native American burial mounds. As the story goes, when those of great power and great spiritual strength died, they were laid on the mound with their trinkets and totems and then covered with dirt. For thousands of years before the Europeans set foot on this nation, the Native Americans performed these rituals. 

In the flat lands of Louisiana, it was not uncommon to see these mounds dotting the scenery here and there. The one on Papa’s land was by far the largest I ever saw, implying it was probably one of the oldest. For as long as I can remember I was forbidden to even approach the mound within 100 yards. 

When we finally reached the large domicile, the home health care nurse, Amanda, greeted us at the door. Before we ever went inside, I heard my mother ask Amanda very quietly how Papa was doing. Amanda turned to face away from me and began to whisper in my mother’s ear. I could not hear what the pretty nurse said to Mother, but judging by the look on her face, I knew something was wrong. 

Mother had a smirk on her face, not one of arrogance, but one of sadness and grief. Her eyes seemed distant and vacant as she listened to whatever bad news the nurse gave her. I already knew my grand pap was given to delusional spells. Sometimes he conversed with people who were not there and other times seemed terrified by the things his aging mind created. He interacted with people, with things no one else saw. Doctors ran tests on him, on his brain. We were all sure he suffered from Alzheimer’s disease, but everything showed that was not the case. 

Finally we went inside, and Amanda escorted us into the main den. She left the room then returned a few minutes later pushing Papa in his wheelchair. He had the capability to walk on his own but did so very slowly. If he wanted to get somewhere with any sort of speed, he used the wheelchair. 

Papa grinned from ear-to-ear when he saw me. Every time we visited I watched as the look of fear and hopelessness in his eyes replaced by a spark of joy. There really seemed to be an actual spark of joy coming from within his eyes. His blue eyes took on a faint glow that came from no reflection of nearby illuminations. 

I ran to Papa and hugged him tightly. Papa wrapped his arms around me tightly. 

“You are my pride and joy son,” he said as he rubbed his hand and mussed up my hair. He wrapped his arms around me again then Papa whispered in my ear, “It’s up to you to pass on the bloodline.” 

I really did not know what to say. I was taken back by those last words. I thought he must be in one of his delusional spells. He always called me his pride and joy, but it scared me when he said something about the bloodline. Before he let me go, he gave me a kiss on the cheek. I remembered his kisses to be rather coarse from his aged, wrinkly lips. I also remembered them as rather cold from the decreased circulation of blood to his purple lips. 

This time I felt a static shock. It did not sting; if anything it tickled. When his lips made contact with my cheek, I felt a warmth and softness never there before. That unexpected warmth stayed with me even after our embrace was over. 

For an hour, our visit went on as normal. Mother and Papa reminisced about Grandma and my dad and discussed Papa’s deteriorating health. Occasionally his beautiful, voluptuous nurse would check his blood pressure. He was always connected to some sort of machine. The medical equipment showed a display of Papa’s heartbeat, and occasionally it made an out of place fluctuation. 

Every so often Papa’s attention seemed to drift away as if he was staring at something only he could see. This time it was different though and I did not say anything to Mother or to Amanda about it. When Papa turned his head to look at something else, I saw it too. I saw a man, if it could be called a man, standing next to Papa. The man spoke to Papa in words I could not hear. The being standing over my granfather stood about six feet tall with a high, slender head. Its dress appeared to be somewhat Native American, but many aspects of its dress appeared alien. 

The ghostly green person pressed his finger against his lips as if telling Papa to keep quiet about the events unfolding. Kneeling down, the man lightly pried Papa’s left hand open from its grip and placed something in his palm. The man then gently closed Papa’s hand, turned to me and nodded, then walked through the back wall as if it were not even there. It was like the wall was the illusion and not the other way around. 

Papa looked at me and a sly, lively grin crossed his lips. He just did something to me, and I had no idea at the time what it was. Mother and Amanda did not seem to notice, and I think Papa wanted to keep it that way. 

Mother was working on a big business project for work and Papa did not have a phone in the house. It took about thirty minutes of driving before someone could get any kind of decent signal strength for a cell phone. Usually Mom did not work on the weekends, but it was important she and the rest of her team finish their project by morning. Before she left to use her phone, she pulled the nurse to the side. 

I saw Mother’s lips repeat a familiar phrase, “Don’t leave him alone with his grandfather.” 

As my mother walked out of the parlor door, I saw what could only be described as a tentacled fish swimming through the air. The strange creature passed through the wall and was gone. Suddenly a whole school of the flying fish passed through the wall and into the room. They headed straight toward Mother, and I shouted out a warning to her. The fish passed through her and continued on through the next wall. She did not notice a thing. 

She turned with a start and looked at me with a panic in her eyes. 

“What is it dear?” 

I knew then she could not see these things and I had to think of a cover quick. I told her I thought I saw something, but it was only a shadow cast by a tree outside. Mother turned and gave Amanda a stern look and then exited through the front door. 

The three of us sat there quietly until we heard Mom’s car fade off into the distance. Papa opened his hand and showed me a small, twelve sided geometric shape. I was sure the strange green man gave it to Papa; he did not have anything in his hands prior to that. 

Suddenly a strange look washed across Papa’s face, a look like I never saw before. It was a look of strength, a look of wisdom, and a spark of life I never before witnessed in those eyes. He rolled the object in his fingers like a marble. When he would stop long enough, I could faintly make out the marking on the sides of the object. 

Papa appeared to press on specific symbol, and the thing let off a faint glow. Without looking at her, Papa said to Amanda, “Why don’t you go slow brew us some tea.” Amanda did something she never did before and left me alone in the same room with my grandfather. 

“Come, Ian,” Papa said. It was as if he were issuing a demand rather than offering a request. He did not sound cold or mean; he displayed a measure of strength I did not know he had. 

I felt strongly compelled but not controlled. When he spoke to the beautiful nurse a few moments ago, he had a strange tone to his voice. She did as he asked without question. I do not know how he did it, but Papa made her leave the room. Amanda would never leave us in the same room alone together under her own will. 

I perceived a foreboding sense of terror. Something in his face, the strange glow in his eyes, the change in his voice, and that object in his hand terrified me. Despite the churning in my gut, I got off the antique couch and made my way to Papa. As I stood face to face with him, I watched the glow in his eyes grow brighter and the blue of his eyes get deeper. Papa reached out his feeble hands and told me to take hold of them. 

“Hurry boy, we don’t have much time,” he said, sensing my hesitation. 

I took hold of his hand and immediately the world opened up to me. I did not know what I saw, and it absolutely petrified me. Suddenly, alien creatures of all sorts filled the room and the air around me. Grouped in colors, they ranged in hues from one end of the visible light spectrum and beyond. 

I tried to pull away, but Papa gripped me tightly. 

“I’m sorry boy, but this is the way it’s got to be,” Papa said with a seriousness I did not know he possessed. 

Absolute panic overtook me as yet more creatures became visible. The walls of the room became the illusion and these strange entities surrounding me became real. I noticed only the creatures of the same hue interacted with one another. Those of different colors seemed to have no awareness of the others, even passing through each other like one shadow penetrating another. 

As I tried to take it all in, I saw in the green spectrum more of the strange people like the one who spoke with Papa. I became aware one of them, the one I saw earlier, stood behind me with his hands on my shoulders. I cannot say how I knew, but there was no doubt this was the being who spoke with Papa. 

My weight seemed to increase as soon as I saw those long green fingers. Frantically I tried to pull my hands free from those of my grandfather. Not only did I fight against Papa’s new found strength but the strength of this green, otherworldly ghost. 

Every color, every layer of other worlds became my reality. Too much bombarded my mind all at once. I attempted to scream as my head throbbed in agony. Tears streamed down my cheeks. It felt as if my brain grew larger while my skull contracted. It was all too much for me to handle. My five senses, and new senses becoming open to me, flooded my mind with more input than any limit the human brain was meant to handle. 

My body convulsed and seized, yet I somehow remained upright. The powerful green hands on my shoulders held me tight. I did not know what they did to me, but I knew I was dying. I was going to die and my grandpa is the one who was killing me. The glow in his eyes grew so strong the blue hue illuminated everything around us. 

Suddenly I once again stood in the conversation room in front of Papa’s chair. Those overlapping worlds of chaos were gone and so was Papa. 

In a weak whisper he said sadly, “I’m sorry Ian. I knowed you wuz too young.” 

He said one more thing to me, and that was the last sound he made. The high pitched whine of his heart monitor flat-lining followed an instant later. 

The next few days flew by as a blur. I only retained vague memories of me talking to Mother or anyone else. Papa revealed so much to me, and I did not know how or if I could retell this to anybody. I did not know what I was supposed to say. I could not tell Mother I saw through to worlds beyond the infinite expanse of our own universe. If I tried to convince others Papa was not senile, that what he saw was real, everyone would think I was crazy. 

Papa left me the house, land, and an astounding amount of money. Because of my age, I could not yet have control over the monetary assets. Papa thought of this. He gave mother a trust fund and asked her in his will to take care of me until I reached eighteen years-old. 

The next day I learned the land Papa owned was in the family for tens of thousands of years. That perplexed me because this land was in the family long before the Europeans arrived five hundred-fifty years ago. As a widely encompassing Native American belief, land ownership did not occur. How then could this land have belonged to my family for untold centuries? 

After more than a week following Papa’s death, I was terrified at the thought of entering the day room in which he died. I did not want to go back into that room where I nearly lost my sanity. Eventually, I worked up the nerve to enter the room that turned illusion that day while the illusions turned real. 

The sense of worlds existing in every color imaginable was a difficult thing to describe. I did not think any words existed that could describe it. Seconds after entering the room, the illusions began again. I leapt back with a start as something yellow swam before my eyes. Falling back, I landed in what I thought to be some orange, fluidic life-form. 

A flood of colored images crashed in upon me. Maybe Papa was mad and now faulty genetics were making me become crazy. I wanted to die all while wondering if I already had. Terror unlike any I could fathom tore at my soul when those long green fingers again took hold of my arm. I knew the damn thing was going to restrain me until I lost all semblances of sanity. 

Something entirely different happened. The being did not hold me in the chaos; he pulled me out. The vertigo faded and I became aware of a warm object the green man put in my hand. It was roundish, and I could feel the polished flat surfaces. It was the object my grandpa held when he died. I never thought to recover it after he passed. 

I looked down to the object and found a dodecahedron. The six colors of the rainbow covered one side each. Five colors that did not exist in my reality covered each remaining sides. The twelfth side represented my own reality. This object was my family’s blessing and its curse. 

Nye’too, as I later learned to call him, had much to tell me. A distant ancestor of mine, who lived in a time before man recorded history, desired knowledge above all else. So deeply did he cherish knowledge that he sacrificed the souls of others to a god born with the forging of the Earth. Every soul sacrificed to the demon-god brought the man a deeper and deeper level of understanding. 

He and his tribe took over one nation after the next, sacrificing all those who resisted to his long forgotten god. He grew his knowledge until he knew everything that was and everything would be. The capabilities of the human brain, as it still is now, were much too primitive to take in all there was to see. The man descended into insanity while his god was now free to roam upon the Earth. 

Nye’too’s ancestors were appalled when they learned of what the man did. The green man told me how most of his ancestors died while imprisoning the maligned god in a chamber deep under the surface of the world. Only one exit existed in the magically warded prison, a giant iron door inscribed with the hieroglyphs found on the object I now owned. 

As punishment for his deeds, the man’s bloodline was cursed for all times to see all there is to see. One male of each generation was charged with guarding the trapped god. The only thing that could prevent madness was the key; this key for a door buried deep in a familiar mound of dirt and stone. 

The madness forever followed the man’s descendants. I remembered Papa’s final words. With the most sincerely apologetic tone he whispered to me, “I’m sorry Ian. I knowed you wuz too young, but this is usually passed from father to son.” 

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Themselves

Word Count: 2,794

I was overwhelmingly ecstatic to be one of the few fortunate archaeology students privileged enough to be chosen from a multitude of extremely highly qualified candidates. We were to take part in a classified expedition to a wildly remote location. I simply could not believe it when the dean of anthropology from a prestigious institution of higher learning contacted me gave me the good news.

This was a once in a thousand lifetimes opportunity. Signs of another advanced civilization prior to ours surfaced after workers found engraved stone tablet buried for who knows how long under the solidified rubble of an ancient mudslide. No evidence of any previous civilization as old as this, at least in modern times, was ever discovered until now.

Linguists from around the world were already on the scene making an attempt to decipher the odd lettering of the massive stone tablets. We hoped they would translate them of course, but personally I cared little about that aspect of the find. My unbridled excitement focused solely on the possibility of uncovering never before found fossilized remains of the inhabitants of this newly discovered civilization.

After an agonizingly long ground trip, I saw the winged vehicle in a small clearing that would take us to our ultimate destination. Our small aerial transport jolted abruptly, up and down as we passed through some rather turbulent winds. Sudden gales rocking the vehicle made me think more than once we would dive nose first into the dense jungle floor.

It was necessary to take this rough flight in order to progress over the mountains to our destination in the deep, remote valley. The long arduous trip from home to the sharply mountainous region of the southern continent was very uncomfortable. My body ached from the long flight as the craft shuddered through the side winds beating against the flying vehicle.

I had to admit, despite the numbingly rough ride, I did find the view of the majestic snow-capped mountains and vibrant green forests so incredibly alive with color. Seeing the vastly chromatic, lush green of the trees below and the white snow at the peak of the mountains all in one glance was indeed quite a sight to behold. Eventually, a small speck of a clearing became visible ahead. As we drew closer to the landing site, it was all I could do to quell my increasing excitement.

The clearing was small. It was a narrow fit, but the pilots managed a safe landing on the recently constructed pad below. As we began unstrapping ourselves from our safety harnesses and grabbing our equipment, the pilot told us sternly not to exit until the engine came to a full stop. I felt like I waited an eternity before the sliding door finally opened.

There were many supplies to unload. We first removed our most delicate equipment and set it carefully out of the way. Then we began unloading the basic essential supplies. The water here was found to be undrinkable, so there were many heavy jugs to unload. I am smart but not strong, and I strained my way through the unloading process until everything was on the ground.

Our transportation then rose back into the air with a flutter, stirring leaves and dirt from the jungle floor. It reached the top of the giant trees and disappeared over the canopy of leaves. A bit of panic, or perhaps anxiety hit me as I watched our only way out of this remote jungle fly away; I knew it was not coming back for seven days. The transport would return when it was time to bring more supplies, so the amount we had was going to have to last us until then.

We were virtually alone. There were the other team members, but the extremely remote valley location made contact with the outside world all but impossible. If for any reason, we had to contact the forward base, someone had to scale the steep mountain to send and receive transmissions. The funders of the expedition did not bring in an engineering team to install an antenna at the mountain’s peak yet. I did not think it would get to me, but I hated the idea of being cut off from civilization with no way out except for small aerial vehicles.

Putting those thoughts away for a while, I helped the others carry the equipment to a cleared pathway to meet with the linguistics team and geology team. With their camps already set up, the other teams helped carry the supplies to the base. The food and water was for them as well, and it was only fair they carry some of the load.

Although the linguistics team had yet to decipher the tablets, the geology team made some rather interesting findings. After using various methods of measuring radiation levels in the rock strata and the decay of radioactive isotopes, the group determined the rough age of the tablets. By their calculations, the tablets were more than two million years old.

Surely they made some egregious mistakes in their estimations. Our own species is estimated to be around one hundred thousand years old at most. I could not believe there was any possible way any intelligent species evolved so many eons before us.

My experience and education taught me only numerous, gigantic beasts roamed the planet before us. It was estimated to be about this time when an explosion in the number of species on the planet occurred. These enigmatic beasts were not technologically developed and died out hundreds of millions of years ago.

Most of the creatures were extinct. In fact, virtually all of the species were extinct with the exception of a few aquatic creatures. A miniscule number of species remained unchanged, but evolution literally took everything else to a different state.

Once we got all of our equipment and supplies to the camp, my team set up our own temporary shelters. The sun was already set behind the thick canopy of the trees overhead. It was dark enough already. I knew when the sun set behind the mountain peak, I would learn a new meaning to the word “dark.”

We had to set up the camp under the few lights we could spare. Power supplies for the lamps were as limited as the food, so we could not light the camp brightly enough to really see what we were doing. Setting up our feeble shelters turned out to be quite a difficult task.

I wanted to get to our dig site now, but it was not safe to be out in this untamed jungle in the pitch black night. Predators on the ground, in the trees and even in the air made night travel very dangerous indeed. When we finally arrived at the dig site the next morning, it was not at all what I expected.

I assumed the ground covering vegetation was removed, but it was as dense and green as ever. Dense underbrush and thick vines obscured any dirt from sight, and I realized how difficult this was truly going to be. It was our task to first clear the surface before excavating any deeper.

My team received our next load of supplies and the surface was still not completely cleared of the dense, heavy vegetation. It was vital we took as much care of what we did. Rushing and getting ahead of ourselves could in some way damage important archeological evidence. We toiled over the tedious work even beyond the arrival of our supply delivery at the end of my second week.

I knew without question, when I accepted this golden opportunity, I absolutely could not pass it up. An entire year in this miserably hot-steamy place was going to feel like an eternity. In my furvor to be given the chance to take part in such a rare expedition, I did not allocate much thought on the difference in environment from which I was accustomed. It was more than worth it, but the weather was still quite miserable. It was rainy more than it was not, but I was going to see something only two other teams in recorded history ever had the opportunity to see.

From this point, we began to sweep away the dirt after sectioning the area into a grid. I literally removed very thin layers each day, no more than my finger in thickness from any gridded section in a day using only a light haired brush.

Twenty-nine days passed before one of my team mates uncovered the fossilized remains of something incredible. Much more ground had to be excavated before we could determine what it was, but they definitely found the endo-skeletal remains of something.

It was four days after this when the gentle sweeping of the dirt uncovered enough of the fossilized remains to determine what type of creature to which these bones once belonged.

It was large, very large. The newly discovered beast was every bit as massive as the largest of the mammals living in modern day. Although badly decayed, we found evidence of some sort of harness on its body, there since the creature died. Patterns of iron-oxide in the soil indicated the harness was held in place with a series of rings and buckles.

We theorized this was a beast of burden or a riding animal, and became very hopeful to find the master who harnessed the creature. That would be the most amazing discovery to date. What made this truly unusual were the carnivorous teeth filling the beast’s mouth. What kind of being could tame a massive beast such as this?

The geologists surveying the area used various methods and set the date of the strata in which we found the beast approximately eight hundred thousand years old. This placed the time of the creature’s death after the time the ancient mudslide covering the stone tablets.

The linguistics team made a lot of headway as well. Although they had yet to translate the tablets, they began to understand the sequencing system of the chiseled language. Now they had that figured out, it was somewhat easier for them to make the translations.

Days passed, many supply shipments arrived, but no one discovered anything new. For leisure, we did not have much. Members of the three teams entertained themselves with daytime walks through the forest. They had to cut the thick vegetation in order to make walking paths.

One night those out for a walk were about to turn around and make their way back to camp. That was when several of them spotted two vine covered cyclopean stones. It was an immediately noticeable aspect they saw that the massive stones were too well shaped to be natural.

With few supplies and the dangers lurking in the forest in the night, they had to return to camp without any further examination of the newly discovered blocks. We started at dawn getting our supplies to the new location. Going back and forth each day would take too much time, so a secondary camp was set up near the new discovery.

The explorers emphasized the massiveness of the blocks, but I did not think they would be this big. The obelisks were every bit of ten times my height. They were the largest of the tablets found yet. These, covered from top to bottom with the strange ancient glyphs, might be the cypher the linguistics team needed to break the strange code, those writings of this long lost civilization. If the team translated the tablets into our language, it may be very possible they may indicate the locations of other important sites.

At the secondary location, when darkness came, every little noise made me jumpy. In the midst of the large encampment, I felt safe. Now, with nothing more than a few tents and a small campfire in the center, I felt much more vulnerable to the creatures in the jungle. The first two nights, I got very little sleep. By the third night I began to grow accustomed to this even more remote location, my nerves were not quite so shaken, and I finally managed to get a good night’s slumber.

One of the stones was finally cleared and the linguistics team got to work on the translation. My small group chose a spot and prepared for a long and tedious excavation process. With our team divided, we gently dug into the sediment in search of more evidence of the ancient civilization. Five supply shipments later and discouragement began to affect us all. My particular sections of the excavation became deeper than I was tall.

On my knees, a pad underneath me to distribute my weight, I swept away dirt and dust by one stroke of the brush at a time. For what was supposed to be the biggest moment in my life, I had to say the tedious work almost drove me insane with boredom.

I was close to sneaking into a supply transport to get out of here by this time, but then I finally uncovered the bones of something big. It looked very big. It was much bigger than the first fossilized find. Now all of the tedium washed away. I made the discovery of a creature much-much larger than the beast of burden. Nothing remotely like this could be found in recorded history.

I wished I could dig it out with a shovel, but it was far too large. I had to be patient as we slowly removed the several million year old sediment from around the massive skeleton. It was probably going to take me more than the rest of my scheduled time here to completely uncover it. I knew I would need to ask to sign up for another year. I was the first to discover something so amazing, and I was not going to hand my find over to someone else.

It took nearly thirty days only to reveal what appeared to be a hand. A chain of bones held at what we believed to be the upper cavity of the creature was exposed thirty days after that. The chain of bones had at their upper end a set of strangely curved bones. It was possible for me to stand fully erect inside of the torso cavity.

As the excavation continued, we theorized the creature must be bipedal. It was astounding to think something as enigmatically tall could possess enough strength to defy gravity in order to remain standing. It did not add up. The strength to weight ratio for something this large to maintain an erect posture was not previously believed possible.

The phalanges at the end of the top limbs appeared to have been dexterous enough to manipulate tools. The ends of the lower appendages were different, being too short and oddly shaped to effectively use tools.

On the next supply drop, a six member camera crew exited the vehicle and unloaded all of their equipment. Due to the size and amount of the equipment, there was little room for the food, water and basic medications we needed. One member of the geology team rather lost it when he confronted the pilots about this. Our water was running low and our food supplies were nearly depleted.

As angry words spewed from his mouth, one of the pilots stopped him and told him another shipment would arrive in a few days with yet another crew. This crew faced the monumental task of figuring out how to move the pieces of the giant skeleton safely to a museum. There, great care would make sure the bones remained intact for generations to come.

I did not like the idea of someone handling my discovery. I could not stand the thought of them disassembling the body to move it one bone at a time. This body rested here for millions of years and it felt wrong to move it. It had to be moved now as my excavation exposed it to the elements though. Careful and very specific labeling was done to assure the curators reassembled it correctly.

My find was nearly completely uncovered by the time the linguistics team finally deciphered the language found on the many engraved stone blocks. With great enthusiasm, the team ran into the camp yelling they finally made their translation.

“We broke the code,” one of them said while trying to catch his breath.

“We know what they called themselves,” another continued.

They both nearly collapsed as they tried to breathe. The members of the linguistics team tended to be sedentary and out of shape.

“Humans, they called themselves humans,” the first managed to say.

Humans huh? That seemed like an odd name for creatures to call themselves.

COPYRIGHT © 2019

Views: 5

The Others

Word Count: 6,379

From moment I took my first steps, my parents had to start installing deadbolts and other locking mechanisms on all of the doors and windows throughout the house. The first scare occurred when I was still at the very young age of three. My parents awoke one night to find my bed empty. In a panic, they searched the house for me, but found no sign of me. After calling the police to the scene, my terrified father left my mother to wait for the authorities as he searched the nearby streets for me. 

My father discovered me safe and sound sitting on someone’s front doorsteps four blocks away. Apparently, I took the newspaper I found in their lawn and had its pages spread upon the porch. My father observed me scanning over the unfolded pages and thought he actually saw me reading them, but I was not even a in preschool yet. 

With each nightly episode of my sleepwalking, I was always found acting out of character for someone my age. Many times, my parents simply caught me quietly watching television. My mother found me one night as I was fervently flipping through the pages of the phone book. She never spoke directly to me about this, but I overheard enough conversations to put two-and-two together. 

One summer evening Mother came to check on me and found me encircled with books. I was rapidly scanning over the pages turning them one right after another. Mother swears I was speed reading through the dictionary. Spread around me I had several encyclopedias, a dictionary and multiple magazines. Most of them were damaged, the pages torn as if I could not flip through them fast enough. 

When she took me by my little wrists and attempted to take me back to bed, I fought back vehemently. Screaming unintelligibly, I kicked and clawed my way out of her grip. After that violent incident the doctor’s visits began. Several times a week my parents brought me to a special “talking doctor” to try to get to the root of my nocturnal sojourns. 

Bolts on the doors no longer kept me captive in the relative safety of my home. In my sleep I managed to come up with some very creative ways of circumventing the locking mechanisms. How I got out frightened my parents as much as what they would find me doing. 

One time they found me in a bookstore with the alarm ringing loud in the night. The owner of the store said he must have forgotten to lock the door one night, but he was wrong. I managed to enter a locked business and was found in the non-fiction section. I was surrounded by books of weaponry and war. It was at this point my parents decided dead bolts were not enough. Never once did I remember even a minute fraction of what occurred, which scared me even more so than it did my parents. 

In my bedroom door my father installed a key operated dead-bolt lock which only unlocked from the hallway side of the heavy-oaken portal. Outside a heavy steel grating was placed over my window and fastened down tight. The glass in my window was replaced by the shatter resistant glass containing chicken wire. The first morning after being so heavily secured in my bedroom, my parents woke to find me sleeping in my bed. Their hopes falsely rose when I went more than a week without incident. Their despair deepened when they opened my door on the ninth morning. 

Father unlocked the door and I was sound asleep in the corner. Using my crayons, I wrote on every inch of the wall I could reach. I don’t recall seeing the writings myself, but I know Mother took some Polaroid pictures of the strange characters. Even to this day I never ever peeked at those photographs. 

The walls of my room were painted over with several coats of paint that day. Fans were necessary in order to provide safe ventilation because my bedroom window no longer opened. I was kept in my parent’s room over the course of the next several nights to allow the fumes to dissipate. They never told me so, but I knew they began taking turns staying awake with me because of how they seemed so exhausted the next day. 

When I finally returned to my room, I was about a month away from my seventh birthday. Nothing was put in my room with the exception of my dresser, bed and a heavy table on which I liked to color and play. When it was time for me to go to bed, my parents removed the crayons and any other writing utensils. My clothes were in the dresser, but there was nothing I could use to write on the walls while I slept this time. 

Several months passed without another incident, until one night I somehow pushed the table to the wall and stacked the dresser on top of it. Using a spring removed from my bed, I carved new characters on the wall, all the way up to the ceiling in most places. I moved the furniture around the walls of my room to reach the ceiling. As with any other night of my sleepwalking, I remembered nothing. I awoke to my mother’s startled scream. Father picked me up and rushed me out of the room, and mother slammed the door behind us. 

I spent the first day of my eighth year answering questions and taking tests. Instead of a party, I was admitted to a mental health care facility. For the next two years, I called a hospital home. The doctors proceeded under the assumption my sleepwalking stemmed from a deeper psychological abnormality. 

Sleep studies provided very interesting results. They discovered my brain became fully active during my dream cycles. Although I was unconscious, the tests indicated to the doctors I was in fact awake. Attempts were made during one of my mobile dream-states to communicate with me. My gurgling, hissing speech was unintelligible. To the untrained ear I spoke nothing but gibberish. 

If the doctors provided me with writing utensils, my dream-self tried communicating by writing. The problem was I did not write in sloppy grade-school English. Instead, I randomly covered the paper with cryptic hieroglyph-like characters and grew frustrated when no one understood. Records were kept of each night’s session, the writings taken away from me, and audio recordings made. Throughout this time, I continued to remember absolutely nothing. 

One time the doctors thought it would help me confront my problem, and made me watch my nocturnal ego. It terrified me beyond imagination. It felt like watching a horror movie in which I was the object of terror. I saw myself moving about, speaking a strange guttural language and writing in an unknown script. I cried. I begged them to stop and eventually I refused to open my eyes and would not allow them to show me anymore. I could not watch as my body moved around like a puppet on strings under a guided consciousness that was not my own. 

Specialists used many forms of medication to try to control my extreme sleep disorder. Only the most potent anti-psychotics had any effect on me, but they made me very slow and distant during the daytime. I would rather be a victim to my night-self than spend my whole life in a daze. I cycled through dozens of drugs before the doctors found a combination that finally appeared to suppress my night-self. 

The hospital released me three months after I turned ten, and I was soon allowed to go back to school. The few friends I did have prior to my hospitalization no longer wanted anything to do with me. Other children who did not like me before called me a freak, monster and many other extremely hurtful things. They made me the object of “creep” jokes. Kids can be cruel, but they can be downright evil when afraid of something. I’m sure the jokes and speculation really circulated during my second absence. 

When the kids returned to school after the weekend, they were met with different messages. I got into the school over the weekend somehow, and covered every chalk board and dry erase board in the strange glyphs. Like always the characters did not follow a linear pattern. The characters were always placed in what seemed a random order, like the beginning and end of the message meant nothing. If it was indeed a language, the beginning, middle and end did not seem to matter so long as the necessary characters were present. 

Although I never heard it, the demeaning jokes about my sanity stopped to be replaced by frightened rumors. The people of the community whispered their theories as to the nature of my condition. Because of my secured bedroom, some rumors spread saying I was a serial killer. Others said I was being abducted by aliens, and others said I was possessed by something dark and sinister. Everyone seemed to have their own theory. My parents could no longer deal with the hidden stares and whispered gossip from the adults in town. Father put in for a transfer, and in only a few months we moved out to a two-story home in the middle of nowhere. 

Dad had a high up position in administration at the brewery in town, so he had the company move us out where some of the grains for the beer were grown. He had to take a pay cut, but that didn’t hurt us so much. Rent was cheaper in the country, the water came from a well, and we got most of our electricity from windmills. 

Here they hoped my excursions would end. Every time my parents discovered me sleepwalking, I was found either reading or watching television. With no bookstores, libraries or even neighbors’ houses, my parents thought I might remain inside. The TVs in the house were placed like traps for a mouse. Despite all other media, they hoped I would stop and remain in front of a television. 

I had my episodes for the first month of living in the country, and strangely they abruptly ceased. Six months later I was placed back in school, and my parents hoped with this fresh start I had the chance to make some friends. The school was nearly twenty miles from our house, so there was not the chance I would break into this one to cover the boards in those cryptic letters again. The expectation was I could now live like a normal teenager. 

I made these next four rides around the sun without any more episodes. Immediately following my sixteenth birthday, I wanted to get a car and my driver’s license. All the kids my age were beginning to drive, and I did not want to be left out of the experience. My parents were very apprehensive, and I understood why. I could not go anywhere in my dream-state because the next house was ten miles away. They worried, if I learned how to drive, I would then have access to more. I could take the car somewhere to satiate my dream-self’s need to digest information. In the end, it was decided it was best I not yet learn to drive. 

The final consensus between my father, my mother and I was it was not yet time for me to become quite so mobile. After our discussion, I went up to my room and went to bed. The force inside me driving my uncanny behavior apparently grew frustrated. When I awoke the next morning, every notebook I could find was filled with the inhuman hieroglyphs. It seemed like it should take several days to fill that much blank paper, but it obviously happened over a few short hours’ time. 

Every night I recorded these strange writings. I used the same set of glyphs every time, but they were never in the same order and never seemed to show any discernable patterns. Many of the characters were repeated, but with no seemingly logical organization. 

Once again, my parents pulled me from school. They did not know what to do and were desperately at their wits end. I even overheard them entertaining the notion of bringing an exorcist to the house. Neither of my parents were ever the religious sort, but at this point they were willing to try anything. Psychiatric care did not help, anti-psychotic drugs failed to produce positive results, and even moving me out to the middle of nowhere did not stop my sleep-walking episodes. 

Some of the symbols I recorded bore a striking resemblance to crop circles. Others were hieroglyphic in design. My nocturnal writings had a vaguely Asian design as well as Scandinavian and Arabic. I was absolutely convinced I was writing in some form of obscure or unknown language. There had to be someone somewhere who could interpret this for me. 

My parents were now keeping an incredibly close eye on me, ensuring I did not leave home at any time after sunset. They hid every scrap of paper, every pencil, and every pen in the house. They tried to remove anything with which I could write or record these symbols. 

My closest friend, my only friend really, came out to the house to check on me occasionally. He felt bad for me living my life in virtual solitude. It was nice to have a good friend like Neil. I told him about my sleep-walking problem, but I did not lead on as to how severe it truly was. He was very understanding when I told him the sleeping disorder again grew worse. It came and went with an increasingly predictable frequency. When Neil asked if I needed anything, I think he was only being polite. I don’t think he expected my response. 

I gave him thirty dollars I had hidden away, and asked him to buy me some pens and paper. I wanted him to buy as much paper as that afforded. The next request really stunned my friend. I asked Neil to deliver it to me at the road which ended at the back of my family’s property. He almost acted reluctantly as if I were trying to get him to go along with a major drug deal. 

Now, I wanted a way to continue my dreaming journal, and this was the only way to procure the supplies necessary. I knew Neil was intelligent enough to discern something was amiss, but he agreed to do this for me anyway. I loved to write, and to my friend it was a feasible excuse because he knew I loved to write. Neil was quite aware of this because we shared several classes together before I was removed from school. 

I never remembered meeting Neil to get my supplies, but when I woke the next day, I found them sitting on my dresser. The last thing I remembered was telling my parents I was going for a walk in the early evening. While I sat against a tree as I waited on Neil, I must have dozed off and my dream-self took over. 

I do not know what happened during my encounter with Neil, but I never saw him again. I felt like I was going to lose control and succumb fully to this force driving me during my dreams. I feared I would lose myself forever. 

I began meditating during the day. When I cleared my mind of my daily worries, I slowly but progressively felt my will grow in strength. I did not have any more episodes over the next few weeks as I continued my meditation sessions. The more time I spent in meditation, the stronger and more in control of myself I felt. 

During those weeks, I slept soundly through the night. When I woke up each morning, there was nothing written in my notebooks or anywhere else. I thought perhaps my dream-self was now under my control. In the middle of the fourth week, I awoke to find the strange glyphs recorded on one of my notepads. The meditation worked, but now to a smaller and smaller extent. 

I began a regular routine of going out for a one-hour brisk mid-morning walk. I returned home and ate a small lunch, and after a soothing shower, I went to my room to meditate. As the weeks passed, I found deeper meditation was much easier and my episodes again seemed to lessen. I still found writing in my notebooks, but the frequency of these episodes continued to grow less and less often. 

In the fifth week something happened that never happened before. I was meditating later in the evening and I felt another conscious invading its way into my mind trying to take me over. I struggled against this presence that I now understood took over my body during the night. A swirling vortex of colors and shapes filled my mind as I heard voices in my head, voices speaking in a language alien to me. I fought vigilantly against this consciousness trying to claim my body for its own use, but alas I succumbed to the superior force. 

My meditation sessions grew more intense as I increased them in length and frequency. I knew now something else, something alien took control of my body as I slept. Now that I had more of an idea of what I was dealing with, I had to discover some means of combatting it. I managed to shield my mind from it for months, but I was unable to fortify my psyche enough to prevent it from once again possessing my body. 

This time the invader did not try to take me over while I was asleep; it took me over when I was during one of my meditation sessions. I fought it off for fifteen minutes or so before I finally succumbed to its superior mental strength. I felt the alien force reaching deep inside of me. The idea of something else taking control of my body absolutely mortified me. 

What was it? Where did it come from? Why did it take over my body? What did it want from me? 

I woke to find more of my notebooks filled with the strange writing. This time I remembered having very vivid dreams. I could not remember what they were about, but I do know I woke up with a feeling of extreme claustrophobia. 

I began to spend even more time meditating. I went from meditating an hour a day to meditating for nearly five hours at a time. In the morning, instead of taking my daily constitutional, I would sit in the forest to meditate. I practiced removing the sounds of the birds, insects and any other day-time animals from my thoughts. I practiced blocking them out along with the rest of my worries. It was not long before I was able to do so successfully. 

The invading psyche still took me sometimes while I slept. I learned long ago there was nothing I could do about that. My notebooks filled with the strange writing, which I now assumed must be the written language of my possessor. Once again it tried to take me during a meditation session. I fought for control of my own body for more than an hour. This time, when it won, I knew what it did with me while my physical body was under its possession. It sent me to its own body, which seemed to be in some sort of hibernation. 

I tried to move, but I had the muscle control of a newborn baby. I did manage to open my eyes. What I saw was like nothing I ever saw before. I was inside of some sort of structure. The architecture was totally alien. I tried to move my head to look around, but I was so new to this body, I did not know how. I studied the same small area in front of me until my tormentor returned me to my own physical form. 

I remembered everything when I awoke in the morning. I remembered seeing some of those strange symbols, those strange glyphs I recorded in my sleep. I still did not know what they meant, but I felt like I should. I looked at the drawings with a distant familiarity instead of the absolutely unknown as before. 

I finally learned what happened to me during the night ever since I was a small child. I never was sleepwalking. Something took control of me as I slept using my body like a puppet. During these invasions, this other being trapped me in its body. 

I realized, when I entered a deep meditation, this other creature thought I was sleeping. It always took me when I was asleep because that was the easiest time for it to do so. It did not have to wrestle with my own consciousness as I slumbered. That is why I never remembered it taking control of me. Every time I was thrust into its world, I was unconscious. When it took me during my meditation, it sent me into its body with me in a waking state. 

I felt a whole new sense of terror. It was scary enough when I thought I was sleep-walking. The idea of an alien creature taking my body to use as its own absolutely horrified me. There could not possibly be a more of a personal violation thin this. This thing controlled the fate of my body as I slept. 

I could not tell anyone. I could not ask for help. Who would believe me if I did? 

Anything I told anyone would only make me look like an absolute lunatic. I would be locked away for the rest of my life. I wondered if that might not be for the best. If I was locked away, if it had no use for my body, perhaps it would leave me alone. That would be no kind of life for me to live though. I think I would be better off dead. 

After this latest experience, I knew what happened to me as I slept. Perhaps now I could learn to use its form as it did with mine. Fear of the unknown passed over me in waves. I did not have a clue as to where my mind was sent as I slept. Wherever it was, I was sure it was no place like this world. 

I got very little exercise during the day because I spent much of my time outside meditating. I believed I discovered the way to salvation from my nighttime activities. Each time I fought against that other mind; I found it easier and easier to fend off. I still could not defeat it, but with continued practice perhaps I could. During the day I stayed master of my own body, but in my sleep it still belonged to the other. 

The next time it tried to take me during one of my meditations, I allowed it to do so. If I could learn more about it, I might just gain an advantage at fending it off. 

Trying to make any voluntary functions in the alien body was still very difficult. I was trying to use a form vastly different from my own. I realized the strangeness of the coloration inside of the structure was not an effect of any design or architecture. The color perception of this body was just as alien as the body. It had no sense of hearing that I could discern, but I could somehow feel the things around me. 

I lay there on my back, its back, and stared up at the ceiling. There was no way this room was tall enough for this body to stand. I figured it must be some sort of crawling creature. I tried to turn over, to get on my belly so that I could crawl, but I simply did not yet have the muscle control to do so. I squirmed around some, which was much more than I did the first time. 

Several months passed as I learned how to use my possessor’s body more and more. The reason I could not roll over in its belly was because it already was on its belly. I was right when I thought it was a crawling creature. The ceiling was only twice as tall as the body was high. With time, I learned how to move the alien body while it was mine. 

The being swapping minds with me was long and narrow. Three sets of limbs lined the slender form. The front and back sets of limbs acted as feet while the center set performed the function of arms. Learning how to manipulate all six limbs was by far the most difficult part of operating this form. Now I knew why it started taking me while I was so young. It had to learn to use my form as I did its vastly unfamiliar body. 

The neck was very stiff, and I found it impossible to look downward. It finally occurred to me that this thing had eyes in the top of its head causing it to constantly look up. This creature apparently relied mainly on its senses of smell and touch. I did not know how the body did it, but somehow, I could feel everything around me. Without physically touching anything, I could still feel the smallest detail. I could read the engravings on the ceiling even with my eyes closed. I thought perhaps it was some sort of sense that acted like radar. 

Eventually I learned to control the body enough to crawl around. The long arms protruding from the sides of the creature were attached to the back legs by fan-like membranes. The membranes looked a lot like they were once wings, but were no longer strong enough to get the body off the ground. 

The room in which I always found myself appeared to have what looked like a doorway at one end. The opening was as tall as the ceiling from the floor and twice as wide. I did not try to exit this one room. I did not want this being to realize I learned to use its body as my own. 

I allowed this to continue for nearly a year. The opening to this chamber opened into a vertical shaft. This was how I discovered this body possessed the ability to easily climb up walls. I could also crawl along the ceiling. The body did not have to turn; the limbs pivoted from front to back with natural ease. 

I must have had some minor access to the alien’s memory, because it did not take me long at all before many of the hieroglyphs made sense to me. I was able to determine most of the engravings on the ceiling mapped out this creature’s family tree. It listed the name for each birth. 

I waited a long time before I could bring myself to leave this room. I did not know how I was supposed to act in the case I encountered others. Once I did, I found a labyrinth of tunnels cut through the stone. Rooms did not have doors, so several times I almost entered the chambers of others. 

The first alien I encountered said something. It did not use sound. It did not even use this radar like sense of touch. The only way I could think of describing it would be to call it telepathy. I could not understand what it said, so I repeated what it said to me. Apparently, I succeeded because this being went on about its business. 

Somehow, I knew the tunnel led to a large chamber filled with more of the aliens. It was some sort of bazar or market. I avoided any such places until I developed a better understanding of their way of speaking and what their words meant. Just as with the written language, it did not take me very long to learn their means of communication. Their words made sense to me very quickly. 

I tried not to spend too much time away from my possessor’s chamber. I did not want it to know I was taking excursions in its world as it did in mine. If it knew I gained command of its body, the alien may end the swapping of our minds. I wanted to know as much about these creatures and their world as I could. I hoped to find something that would indicate where in the universe I actually was. 

I continued to avoid large, crowded areas such as the market. I learned these beings were very artistic. The tunnel system was carved with amazing images and art galleries were common. I did find the three-dimensional carvings to be very strange. I could feel their details as I moved, and some of them seemed to be somehow physically impossible. 

The walls of the tunnels also contained engravings detailing the destinations of each passageway. This made it very easy for me to explore without getting lost. It also helped me avoid any large, highly populated areas. One of my biggest concerns was I would run into another who was friends with the one’s whose body I used. 

Their social structure was as alien to me as their world. I eventually learned the concept of being friends, the way I understood the relationship, did not exist here. In fact, it appeared every individual lived alone. They only came together when it was time to conceive a child. 

The family structure of this society was very loose and disconnected. When a child was conceived and born, the parents returned to their respective chambers. Who cared for the body was determined by the sex of the child. The custodial parent was the one with the same gender as the child. I did think it very odd that the creatures reproduced much the same way as animals on Earth. The idea that they had only two genders, the same two genders as found in my world was incredible. 

I learned much about these creatures and their ways. I understood why the being in my body was going to my world. It wanted to study us. Our ways of life must be as alien to it as its world was to me. This invading mind apparently went unaware I controlled its body as it controlled mine. This creature wrongly thought I was asleep while I was in deep meditation, rather than sending my sleeping mind into its body, it was sending me in a conscious state. 

I discovered these creatures expected a great cataclysm to occur sometime in their near future. This idea struck fear into my very soul. I began worrying they planned to take the earth, steal our bodies, and leave us here to die. I grew strong over this time, but my possessor was stronger yet. I did not think I could stop it if it tried to take my body for good. 

These tunnel dwellers did not perceive time in the same way as humans, so I could not determine when the creatures expected the cataclysm to happen. If they tried to take host of human bodies in mass, they would doom all of those lives. They may even doom the entire human race. 

I wanted to warn everyone I knew. I wanted to help the human race defend itself from the likely invasion. I wanted to help the earth, but I knew everyone would think I snapped. 

Who would possibly believe such a strange tale as this? 

I continued to study them as much as I could. There was a faint hope I could find something to help my people. My mind could not understand these beings’ odd sense of time. If I wanted to save my world, I needed to know how much longer I had. If there was enough time, perhaps I could at least save a handful of people. 

Their art also seemed to be a sort of recording of history. I therefore decided to spend time in their museums to try to gather information on their full history. The problem was, to get to one of these places; I would have to travel through the community’s market. There were thousands of others in the bazar at any given moment. I had a rudimentary command of their language, but not enough to engage in conversation. If any others engaged me, I might be found out. 

Eventually I decided I had no other choice. The ones I encountered up to now were not very communicative. A greeting was traditional, but I encountered no conversations thus far. I could only hope they were the same way when gathered in large numbers. 

Finally, while the other made use of my body, I worked up the nerve to pass through the market place so I could reach the museums of history. I passed many other tunnels on my way to the large chamber, passageways leading mainly to the dwelling rooms of the aliens. 

Those I passed on my way said nothing but the usual greeting. I felt rather good about my chances in the bazar. The massive chamber contained thousands of these beings. When they gathered together in crowds, the typical greeting was apparently not necessary. 

Vendors greeted me with offers to purchase their products. I politely told them no and went about my business. I was so glad these beings did not form personal relationships. If they had, one of them may have recognized me and initiate a conversation. As it was, I made it to the other side without ever having to say more than a few words. 

This was the first time I encountered any of their technology. The aliens used crystals of different sorts as what I could only describe as computers. All this time, I carried on this body a belt containing pouches full of crystals. I thought these were used as currency, but I actually carried with me some of their technology this whole time. I never took the time to discover their purpose. 

I made my way through the tunnels to a museum dedicated to relics recovered from ancient civilizations. I thought that might give me some insight into their perception of time. I hoped then I could figure out when they expected this massive cataclysmic event. 

So far it was impossible for me to determine what the event would be and when it was supposed to happen. I did not ask any of these beings any questions about the events. I only knew what I picked up here and there. 

I was excited about seeing their archeological finds, but I could not rush to get there. These creatures did not display stress or excitement. They always went about their business at a leisurely pace. If I tried running, or even rushing, I knew I would draw unwanted attention. 

Stifling my excitement, I entered the museum. The carven walls were high, the highest I encountered until now. Even the marketplace did not match these heights. It was shallower and more widespread. 

The high walls were decorated with massive engravings. The ceiling was so high in this museum because of some of the things it contained. It appeared, in this ancient civilization, the dominant species walked upright. Many of the artifacts stood as tall as this body was long. 

First, I encountered a display of fossilized animal remains. An engraved tablet described the animals as livestock. The body I inhabited ate only the fungi cultivated in this subterranean civilization. For some reason the thought of eating another animal made me feel sick and woozy. 

I continued on to the next display, which was labeled as tools of the ancient civilization. I saw several familiar items in the display. One of the tools looked like the head of a pick-axe. Another of the relics appeared to be the tines from a metal rake. A large number of knives lay sealed up in a transparent case. 

The next display caused me a great deal of anxiety. I could swear it was a car. There were many pieces missing, but what was there looked like an old sedan. It amazed me a civilization on another world could parallel humanity so well. 

I got my answer when I approached the next display. This one contained the fossilized remains of the species that once dominated their world. Displays of stone tablets engraved in the ancient language sat scattered about the display. The words on the tablets were written in English. The skeleton was that of a human. 

I did not get transported to another world when the invader and I traded bodies. I was still on Earth. I did not travel through space; my mind traveled through time. The cataclysm they anticipated was not about them; it was about humankind. They were waiting to witness the extinction of humanity. 

It was right at this point I felt the owner of this body trying to return. One of the crystals on a belt I was wearing produced a sort of vibration. That was it. It used this crystal to take my body while forcing me into its own. I snatched the stone from the belt and tossed it across the room. The tug trying to force me back into my own body ceased. 

Without the device, the being in my body could not return. I knew, whatever the extinction event was, it was going to happen soon. In the display along with the skeletal remains was a carving of what it once looked like. The granite statue was an almost perfect image of me. 

I stood there looking at the preserved remains of my own body. It was no coincidence my possessor chose me. It was looking into how the owner of those remains lived. 

I did not want to go back home. I would let that being who violated my body remain to face the extinction level event. I stayed in this underground network. In time I learned to act exactly like the others. 

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