Category: Fourth Triad

When Darkness Fell

On May 4, 2023

Word Count: 5,051

It was a cool, spring Louisiana night and the early season cotton was well on its way to blooming. On this particular day, in April of 1991, my large family came together for an old-fashioned crawfish boil. Many of my uncles raised rice, and during early spring they pulled hundreds of pounds of crawfish from the rice paddies a day. Every member of my family was there. All of my aunts, uncles and cousins showed up to the family event.

As the crimson sun set, painting the distant clouds a beautiful orange on their underside, the mosquitos came out to feed. My cousin Ricky Ray and I decided to go for a drive. Lifting our cooler full of beer, the two of us walked to Ricky’s pick-up truck. I was checking my pocket for cigarettes when we heard my youngest brother, Justin Paul, calling out our names. I didn’t particularly want him coming with us, but Ricky Ray waved his hand for J.P. to catch up. Making J.P. sit in the middle, we climbed into the truck and headed along the dirt road.

We headed East. There was a good swimming hole twenty or so miles from here at a bend in the bayou. My oldest brother – who was now away to college – tied a thick hemp rope to a tree overhanging the water. It was a popular spot and there was a good chance we would run into some of our friends there. We saw three trucks already present when we arrived. One belonged to my buddy, Mark Staton. The second truck we did not recognize but the third truck belonged to the Whitten boys.

My family and the Whittens have carried on a cold-feud for several generations. No one could say for sure what caused the tension between our families. Only two fights between the families occurred over the last decade, but there was the ever-present tension among the clans. We didn’t really want to go swimming with the Whittens, but we were not going to let them keep us from our fun. I hoped they would leave when we showed up.

I pulled off my socks and shoes immediately after exiting the truck, as did Ricky Ray. The ground was sandy and I always ended up with my shoes filled. The only sounds we heard were the crickets and the wind blowing through the tall grass. In that near silence, J.P’s flip-flops sounded like someone smacking water with an oar.

“Why don’t you take them damn things off,” Ricky Ray griped at J.P. “People can hear us coming from a mile away.”

Normally J.P. would have come back with a snappy comment, but because there were Whittens out here he did what Ricky Ray said. Even though there were only a couple of physical altercations between the families in years, we always expected one at any time. If the Whittens did decide to cause trouble tonight, there was no point in announcing our arrival.

The old oak tree overhanging the water was visible in the near distance. The trunk of the venerable tree was more than four feet thick. It was a sapling long before the bayou ever cut its way through the flat landscape. Mark Sutton and his two younger brothers were playing on the swing when we broke the tall grass and into view. Two other fellows, a couple of strangers I’d never seen before, were standing near a fire.

I knew the two weren’t from around here because they repetitively swatted at the relentless mosquitos. Everyone around here was used to the Louisiana blood hawks, very rarely even noticing them. The older folks in these parts said that mosquitos get used to the same old meal every night, so it’s like a buffet when new blood comes to visit.

I learned that the new guys moved into Jep’s old farmhouse just a few miles South of here. Jep passed on some six or seven years ago and had nobody to which to leave his land. Old Jep was a devoted Christian man who likely never neglected a Sunday of church in his life. He put it in his last will and testament that the property was to be sold and the proceeds go to the church. I suppose Reverend Loftus was finally able to unload the unused land.

I saw no trace of the Whittens and didn’t really care to inquire as to their whereabouts. Instead, we said hey to our old friends and introduced ourselves to our new ones. Come to find out, the new boys moved here from Austin, Texas. They were used to the dry heat of that city and were finding the humidity here to be unequivocally miserable. Setting aside their complaints about the mosquitos and humidity, these boys seemed alright.

One of them asked me about the Whitten boys; he asked if we were friends. I shrugged my head, lightly shook my head and said, “Naw.”

“Good,” the younger of the two elaborated. “They seem like a bunch of assholes.”

“Then we got somethin’ in common,” Rick Ray chuckled as he offered them each a beer.

These new fellows, Ken and Terry Greyson, brought some dark beer I was not familiar with. Terry offered us each a bottle. It was profoundly terrible, tasting almost burnt. I wanted to be polite, so I complemented the taste and finished it as quickly as I could. If I’m going to sip on a beer, it’s going to be one I like.

It was Terry who first noticed the darkness. A spot in the sky was completly devoid of stars, and I was not sure if it was always that way or not. We all watched it and it appeared to be drifting slowly. I did not know if the motion was a result of the earth moving, the stars moving or the darkness itself moving.

Our attention turned from the stars to the nearby forest. Someone just exited the forest and we could see the beam of a flashlight. Before long, Billy Whitten and two of his cousins emerged from the tall grass. Insults were exchanged then the Whitten boys hopped in their truck and left.

As soon as their taillights faded from view, J.P. sprung with excitement and said “They were fuckin’ stoned man.”

“You sure?” Ricky Ray asked with a new rising hope.

“Shit yea. Didn’t you see how bloodshot their eyes were,” he said with enthusiasm. “That little Whitten was carrying a paper sack.”

“We gotta go raid their crops man,” the youngest Sutton insisted.

I was relieved to see that the Greyson boys had the same positive reaction to this news as we did.

Someone had to stay with the trucks, so J.P., Terry and the youngest Sutton padded of into the grass. It was easy for them to follow the path beaten by the Whittens as the tall stalks broke easily and left no doubt someone recently passed through. The remaining five of us turned our attention back to that mysterious black spot in the sky. We weren’t sure if it moved, but it was doubtlessly larger than before. Chills ran through me as I noticed the edges of the darkness moving with a shifting fluidic motion.

Half an hour later it was obvious to us that, whatever it was, it was falling toward the earth and it was falling slowly. A meteorite was immediately ruled out. Falling stars produce bright flames, not fluid darkness. We thought it might be a hot air balloon but that would produce an illuminating fire as well.

The darkness altered course and now appeared to be descending at an angle. It was apparent that it was decelerating, like a man with a parachute. I attempted to convince myself that was the explanation, but I knew it was a lie. A parachute would block out the stars and produce no illumination of its own, but that theory went out the window as the darkness grew larger and larger. It was falling into the forest, falling toward my baby brother and the others. Clenching my eyes shut, I prayed it was no more than a figment of my imagination. My skin stung with chill bumps as it drew closer, emitting the sound of a thousand tortured screams.

As if some force suddenly bore its grip upon us, all we did was remain petrified as the thing descended into the forest. In such a state of horror, I did not notice the bottle that fell from my hand. Cold beer soaked my feet, but I did not notice that either. As the bottle gurgled out its contents, all I could think of was that obscurity that fell to the earth.

A muffled boom was faintly audible when the darkness landed. We tried to rationalize it as a man with a parachute, but the intense feeling of terror that chilled us to the bone told us otherwise. My heart welled up into my throat and I couldn’t breathe. My baby brother was out there somewhere in the forest with that terror from the sky.

“What the fuck was that?” Mark asked in a whimpering tone.

No one had an answer for him.

Turning to Ricky Ray, I could see that he was petrified with the same horror we all felt. Brown beer splashed out of the bottle Ken had in his hand. He grasped the bottle so tightly in his hands, his fingers turned white. I was surprised the glass did not shatter under the pressure of his grip.

Mark slid out of the truck and struck the ground with a soft thud. Balled up in the fetal position, tears streamed down his contorted face but he made no sounds of crying. Ken tried to help him up, but Ken wasn’t in much better shape than his brother.

“T-tell me that was something normal,” Ken said in a wavering voice. “Tell me that’s like swamp gas or some shit like that.”

None of us spoke a word. We were all mortified; none of us had any rational answers for why we were drowning in a quagmire of fear. I can’t say how long we stood there, too terrified to function. When a person is dredged in such terror, time has a way of ceasing to exist.

Eventually I mustered the courage from deep within me and took a look at my watch. J.P. and the others left more than an hour ago. They should have been back from raiding the Whitten’s plants by now. Looking back to Ricky Ray, I could tell by the countenance of his face that he was thinking the same thing as me. Despite the horror that gripped my throat, I began to call out for my little brother and the others

Ricky grabbed me by the arm and pressed his index finger against his lips. “Shh, listen,” he whispered.

Initially I did not hear a thing. There were no insects, no frogs nor any of the myriad of nocturnal noisemakers. The creatures of the night were silent. The only thing I could hear was the light rustling of the leaves and tall grass as the wind pushed its way through the meadow. After a few moments I knew what Ricky Ray was telling me. I became aware of a strange wailing coming from the direction of the forest. The ghastly cries came from the same direction in which the darkness fell, from the same direction my baby brother went.

It sounded like a choir of people crying out in agony. I felt a chill in my very bones. I knew, deep down inside, the sounds emanated from something not of this earth.

Mark then insisted that, as a group, we go into the forest to look for our missing kin-folk. God knows that I did not want to go. Everything within me told me to flee, to get as far away from this tainted place as quickly as I could. I could not abandon my little brother though. I had to go find him.

Mark grabbed the two shotguns from the rack on the back window of his pickup. Handing one of the weapons to Terry, Mark asked him if he knew how to use it.

“I’m from Texas,” Terry replied. “Of course I know how to use it.”

Mark grabbed a box of ammunition from under the seat of his vehicle. Fumbling the shells with their shaky hands, the two managed to load six shells into each weapon. A while back we modified them so they would hold more ammunition. It was illegal, but right now I was so glad that we modified the guns. I would take a cannon right now if I could get one.

I took the hunting rifle from the rack of my truck and handed Ricky Ray the .22 caliber pistol I kept in the glove box. We all made sure our weapons were fully loaded then filled our pockets with the rest of the ammo. Unfortunately, there were not enough firearms for everyone, so Mark’s brother was left carrying nothing but a hunting knife.

Mark and I were the biggest of the group, so we had the honor of taking the lead. We put Terry in the back and kept Ricky Ray and Mark’s brother in the center. Despite our desperate urge to flee, we managed to draw courage from one another. With our weapons in hand, we headed off toward the forest.

The woodland was gloomier than it should be, even if it was a moonless night. The smell of the fallen pine needles filled the air, but an underlying odor stung my nostrils. The fallen needles and leaves formed a soft cushion over the sandy ground, which helped to muffle our steps. It felt like a beautiful night, but something intangible filled the five of us with intense trepidation.

The screams seemed to fade into the night until we could hear nothing but our own footfalls. My mind struggled to form a rational explanation for the screams and for the lack of any other noises. We froze, petrified like statues when the unnerving wailing resumed. The screams did not sound to be coming closer; rather, the atrocious wailing appeared to be moving further away. When the cries of torturous agony subsided, there was nothing but silence. There were no birds, no crickets chirping; there was nothing but deafening reticence.

So far, we could see nothing, but we knew we were close to where that demonic blackness fell from the sky. In the absolute silence, we were all too terrified to call out for our missing kin. Something hellish enough to quiet the calls of the nocturnal animals densely populating the forest lurked about in the night, and it made me sick to think we might draw its attention. I steadied my hand as I mustered up the guts to flip the plastic switch of my flashlight. I was not ready for what we found.

Everything was dead. All of the heavy vegetation that once filled this area was gone. The once vibrant section of forest was now no more than a perimeter of death. As I shone my light about the area, it was obvious that we found the epicenter of the landing. In the center of the large opening there was nothing. Where we stood, the vegetation was dead, but it still remained. The closer to the center the plants were, the further along they were in their state of rapid decay. Even the skeletons of small animals that littered the area appeared bleached from years in the sun. It was as if something lurched time forward here, aging anything that lived a thousand years.

On the far side of the impact side, I caught sight of something small glimmering under the light of my LED torch. Motioning with my free hand, I pointed out to the others what looked to be a polished metallic-shine. I apprehensively held my tongue, still too terrified to make a sound. My throat was dry and lips felt swollen. All I could manage was to aim my flashlight at the sparkling gleam and point with a shaky finger. Leading away from us in that same direction was what appeared to be a pipeline clearing. The long stretch of clearing shot out before us. Like an ominous invitation into the bowels of the most horrific, blasphemous abomination ever to be put on this earth, the wide pathway began on the other side of the circular epicenter of decay.

I did not know if we stood there for seconds or hours. None of that seemed to have any meaning. It was as if the laws of time and space were changing around us. Eventually Ricky Ray bumped my shoulder with his muscular forearm nearly causing me to jump straight out of my own skin. My thoughts were coursing through my head so fast I thought my brain was going to hemorrhage. Snapping my head back, I saw that my cousin was motioning for me to stay at the edge of what was still forest. He indicated that he wanted us to go around, avoiding the center of the ring of decay, to follow the straight pathway on the opposite side.

As we drew closer the reflections from our flashlights revealed a surface that could have been a long sheet of tinfoil. The gleam was smooth and stretched on as far as our torches could illuminate. When we reached it, we realized it was something entirely different. It was not the shine of metal. Instead, it appeared that something covered the pathway with a thick, viscous liquid resembling overused motor oil. Without a word spoken, the five of us began to follow along the ooze covered pathway. We took great care to stay far away from the trail of death, but in the blackness of the night it became difficult to see. There was no choice but to stay within six or seven feet of the nightmarish route.

The stuff bore the nauseating stench of rotten fish, and it appeared that anything that black discharge touched instantly commenced to decomposing. Even at the edge of the contamination, the plants withered swiftly. So much so, it was visibly perceptible. We trudged onward, doing our best to continue to remain as far away from the trail of putrefied, fetid remains of what was very recently forest. I dared not even consider what the ooze would do if it were to make contact with one of us.

Thorns tore at our clothes and skin like a thousand talons. Ken quietly murmured several complaints about the shrubbery tearing his arms, but none of us replied. His whispered voice seemed to echo in the silence of this abysmal night. Ken was the first to notice; the only foliage the ghastly substance appeared to spare were the thorns. As everything else decayed right before our eyes, the briars remained unchanged. I asked myself why the putrid goo only spared the thorns. It made no sense.

What nightmarish thing created this path of decomposition?

A glimpsed of relief filled me when I spied with my flashlight someone up ahead leaning against a tree. Ricky Ray softly called out several times, but whoever it was did not answer. Mark vociferously shoved his way through the merciless undergrowth, reaching the silent person before the rest of us. My long-time friend rounded the large pine and froze, his face contorted in absolute panic.

“Who is it?” Ricky Ray asked.

Mark was paralyzed in sheer terror and made absolutely no response. I motioned for the others to stay in place and drudged my way through the ripping thorns so that I could see what was going on. I could swear that most of the damnable briars only recently appeared. The pain was unbearable and I could feel the blood trickling down my arms, legs, and torso. A dense thicket prevented me from walking directly to the tree, so I poked whoever it was with the tip of my shotgun. With that little push, the body propped against the tree fell to the sandy ground. It was the youngest Sutton boy, or at least what was left of him.

No visible wounds were apparent on the body. There were no cuts, no tears from the briars, no damage what-so-ever. I prayed that I was caught in the midst of a cruel nightmare. I could not understand how God could let something like this happen to a person. What I saw was more gruesome, more repugnant than anything I could create in my own imagination. The head on the Sutton boy’s body was gone. His head was not cut off; there was no blood and no stump where his neck should be. It was like there was never a head on the body in the first place. There was nothing but undamaged flesh stretched from shoulder to shoulder.

The body of the youngest Sutton boy laid there on the ground, its chest heaving up and down as with panicked breaths. Mark fell over the body and cried. I grabbed the boy’s right wrist and found that the headless body still had a pulse. I never heard of any such blasphemous thing in my life, and neither had any of the others. I was past the point of fear, or terror and of shock. Everything around me became a haze as I glared down at the atrocious thing that lay before us. It seemed impossible, but Mark’s headless youngest brother was still alive.

Mark must have seen something. Waves of terror coursed through me as I heard my friend fire off two shots. In the dead silence of this unbearable night, the blasts from his shotgun caused my straining ears to ring. Fire was clearly visible in the unnatural darkness that surrounded us. He screamed in uncontrollable anger as he sprinted across the clearing. As soon as that poor boy touched the viscous blackness it climbed up his body and engulfed him in less than a second. Terry fell to the ground retching and Ricky Ray averted his eyes. Right before me I watched as Mark’s flesh melted off the bones like hot wax. He tried to call out, to beg for help, but only scarlet blood mixed with thick ooze emanated from his mouth.

The scene continued on for an eternity; although, it only took thirty seconds for the boy’s body to melt. There was no doubt that he felt every bit of it. I staggered and fell as the skeletal remains of my friend clattered to the ground like a pile of dry sticks. The atrocious death of that poor kid ran through my mind over and over, playing like a skipping CD. The darkness that fell from the sky consumed the soft tissues of that boy’s body and made him suffer through it all. It must be the end. God set the devil loose on us.

Ken must have seen something because he fired off two shots then ran along the side of the trail with astounding speed. I could not see what it was, but my new friend spotted something. I did not know what to do. I just watched the ooze consume Mark Sutton, and the other Sutton lay before me with no head atop the body. Ricky Ray, unable to stay at this appalling site, set off after Ken. I resolved to the fact there was nothing I could do here and followed the others. Ignoring the searing pain, I followed Mark for around a hundred yards or so and the demonic trail ended. Whatever created it, it took a sharp left toward the direction from which it came. Ken already rounded the bend and with incredible speed, disappeared into the night.

Ricky Ray and I tried to keep up with the Austin boy, but he was moving too fast for us. I could no longer ignore the tears that covered my flesh; trickles of blood dripped from every part of my body. Cautiously, we moved further away from that putrid trail and found that the thorns thinned to virtually nothing. The trail was no longer visible, but we could clearly see the wall of thorns that ripped at our flesh.

Ten minutes or so later we could hear something thrashing in the briars. A foreboding thickness filled the air as we warily approached the sound. It was Ken, or what was left of him. Like the youngest Sutton brother, Ken had no head. My friend suffered even worse of a fate than the Suttons. Not only was he missing his head, both of his hands were gone along with his right leg. What remained thrashed in the thorns, no blood dripping from tears in his flesh.

The stillness of the night suddenly rang out with the agonizing cries of hundreds of wailing voices. I knew that hell itself came to claim us when I saw the thing. Having the shape of a giant slug, the surface of the abomination was coated in a dark leathery flesh. It was pocked with the twisted faces of countless people, calling out in agony and begging for death.

The horror pushed its massive body by means of a series of legs. Like a centipede, this thing of the nether reaches of existence pushed its way along using a series of appendages lining both sides of its horrendous body. The appendages were not legs, not in any normal sense of the word. Some were human arms, only with feet. Some were human legs ending in a random assortment of hands and feet. Scared beyond all rational thought, all we could do was stand there.

The demon from the sky reached Ricky Ray first. A mass of faces screamed in unison as they stretched and twisted, creating a long pseudopod. Ken’s tortured face was at the tip, which widened large enough to engulf my cousin’s head. Falling to the ground, the head from his body was gone. Another mass of damned faces reached out and consumed both of his legs.

Suddenly the thing froze, the voices falling to weeps and sobs. A grouping of faces screamed out in pain as they began to stretch apart. Pushing its way into the thick hide of the nightmarish thing was my cousin’s face. New legs sprouted out from each side of the thing and it again moved forward. I fired all six of my rounds at the monstrosity approaching me, but all it seemed to do was cause the assimilated heads of countless people additional pain.

I heard this behind me because I turned and ran. My gun and flashlight were gone. I aimlessly ran away from the trail of that ungodly entity. I ran until I was exhausted and my body burned with fatigue, then I ran some more. The sun broke the horizon and I collapsed. My skin stung all over from the talon-like claws of the briars, my muscles ached from being pushed beyond the point of exhaustion.

The glorious rays of the sun shone down upon me like a blessing from the angels. For over an hour, I laid there basking in the holy warmth. When the pain subsided enough that I could move, I climbed back to my feet. For hours I wandered without any idea of where I was. The sounds of the frogs, crickets and other insects began to sound, and I found the simple songs of the forest to be the most beautiful thing I heard in my life.

Eventually I again found the wide trail that abysmal thing left in its wake. The ooze was dried and flaking away in the morning breeze. I located the mutilated bodies of everyone but J.P. I even found the stacked remains of that poor Sutton’s skeleton. Some force drove me to gather the bodies of Ricky Ray, Ken, and Mark together. It may have been my own will, but that was something I would never learn.

I could not allow them to remain in such a condition. Retrieving one of the shotguns from nearby, I loaded its empty chamber with six shells. The first I fired directly into the chest of the Austin boy. The smoke cleared and no wound appeared on the body. The aberration that lay before me thrashed and lurched. All I did was cause it additional pain. My soul went cold as I fired another shot into Ken’s torso, only to repeat the same results. That thing from the darkness that consumed their body parts would not let them die.

By the time I reached my truck, it was already close to nightfall. Using the pathway the horror from beyond created as it pushed its unholy form through the forest; I drove my truck to where the three bodies were stashed. Along the way I picked up the jerking, kicking body of the youngest Sutton. I removed a shovel from the bed of my pickup and began to dig. Deep into the late hours of the night I forced my wary body to dig a pit in the sandy ground large enough to accommodate the four bodies. After tossing the living remains of Ricky Ray and those other three boys, I threw the sand back over them until I could see no more motion underneath.

Throwing my shovel to the side, I drove my truck and stopped it directly over the buried remains of those undying bodies. In the bed of my truck was a large plastic gas can that was used primarily for my boat. I removed it and emptied its contents into the sandy ground, making sure to splash plenty in and on my truck. I almost passed out from the dense fumes when I climbed into the cab of my old Ford. My eyes and nostrils stung, but I was already in so much pain I barely noticed.

Word of this cannot get out, I thought to myself as I placed a cigarette between my lips. No one can know what happened, which included me. As I struck the flint on my lighter and the flames engulfed me, I said to myself, ‘No one can know of the night when darkness fell.’

The Bone Yard

By Mychal Wilson

On April 14, 2023

In Aetet 2, Fourth Triad, Vastness of Reality

Word Count: 6,612

I truly loved to spend time reveling in the magnificent beauty of nature. Being social was a skill I possessed in very small quantities, and for me making friends was far from being an effortless task. Sequestering myself in the wilderness to go fishing, hiking or camping were the things that gave my otherwise hollow life meaning.

Since I worked four days at ten hours a day, I almost always had a three-day weekend. This gave me a lot of time to spend engaging in the things I so loved. On this particular occasion I decided to go for a hike in a rather familiar area of the Smoky Mountains

I brought my fishing rod and reel along with a small tackle box containing the basic items I may need. Along the path I chose on which I was going to take my hike, I knew I would pass several streams. The streams meandered around the forest, and I knew where I would pass several of the crystal-clear waterways. Because of the way the streams twisted around the terrain; I would pass some of them multiple times. I planned to visit some places of which I knew that were great fishing holes.

Waiting until late morning to leave on my hike, I knew the sun would likely be down by the time I was ready to return home. I brought with me a flashlight and a large lamplight. I also had a smaller back-up flashlight that stayed in my tackle box. My familiarity with the terrain was not an issue. I knew my trails well enough to navigate them under the dim moonlight. The function of the large flashlight was to watch for snakes and other wild animals native to the area.

I reached a bend in the closest stream and was dismayed to find nothing but a small trickle in an otherwise empty waterway. Dead fish lay scattered in the mucky stream bed which indicated the water-flow stopped abruptly. The poor fish did not have time to escape downstream with the last of the water. Since the fish were not fully dry, I knew it also happened recently. Hopefully, it was nothing more than a dam of logs, sticks and leaves I could possibly dislodge on my own.

There was obviously no point in stopping here, so I continued my walk. I hoped to find the clog in the stream and jar it loose. I reached the second elbow along my path, and the stream was empty here as well. I wondered how far up the way the clog occurred. At the end of a trail branching from the main path was another stream in which I liked to sit underneath the cool shade of the large trees to fish.

I decided to head down this path and go to fish in that stream. Even though I still could not yet see this stream because of the trees and a slight hill, I was able to hear the rushing water. The closer I got, the louder the churning water grew. What I heard sounded much more like a river than it did a stream. I was shocked when I finally saw my auxiliary fishing spot.

Normally, the stream was twelve or so feet wide and ran in a three-foot rut the water dug into the ground over the years. Now this stream filled the rut, overflowed from there and now spread thirty to forty feet wide, so much water forced its way down-stream, it looked more like something for rough river rafting. Fishing here was pointless.

It became quite obvious to me the clog in the first stream diverted the flow of water to this one. If I wanted to find a place to fish, I had to continue on until I was above whatever caused the dam. I would not find any water deep or tame enough in which to enjoy one of my favorite outdoor activities here.

It was a beautiful day. The walk was scenic, but I was still in the mood for some fishing. I hoped I would not have to hike too much further before I found stiller water. I could not fish in an empty stream like the first or in a torrential river like the second.

An hour later I finally saw what stopped one stream and directed the water to the second. I was not near enough to see the clog yet, but I could see the cause. An incredible mass of rock and dirt fell from the almost mountainous hillside. The mudslide covered one stream for hundreds of feet.

A moderately sized pond formed where the slowing water shifted to merge with the torrential stream. There was no way I would ever unclog it; the course and speed of these two streams changed forever. I hoped the newly formed pond would make a good fishing spot. Walking for an hour and a half to get here each time might get tedious after a while though.

Getting myself across the flume turned out to be much more difficult than I anticipated. My feet sank in the thick dark-red mud, and some sections still shifted when disturbed. Several times I fell and almost broke the rod and reel in my hand. I slipped on the loose mud at one point and dropped my tackle box. The latch holding the box closed unsnapped, and the contents spilled out all over the soft dirt. This was obviously a very recent mudslide as the debris appeared not to have settled at all yet. Disappointed, I decided my best course of action was to pick up the spilled contents of my tackle box and turn back.

As I gathered my scattered tackle, I glanced up to see the mudslide exposed a rocky opening to what appeared to be a cavern. I lived my whole life here and explored virtually all of the terrain within a day or two’s walk from my house. I knew of some small cavern networks, but I knew of none near my current location. I wondered as to where, if anywhere, the open aperture might lead.

Once I finished gathering my tackle, I very carefully made my way off of the mudslide and back to solid ground. It took me longer to get back than it did for me to get where I took my spill as I was now being very cautious. I did not want to fall again and dump out my tackle, or even worse break my expensive fishing rod.

I found a good spot to stash my fishing gear, made sure I had my flashlights and two large spools of fishing line, then began to climb my way up the mountain. Living in the mountains my entire life and spending so much time exploring the wilderness, I became a rather skilled climber. As long as I was not trying to scale a cliff, if the slope was seventy degrees or less, I could make it without the use of climbing gear.

I chose a climbing spot several hundred feet from the obvious edge of the mudslide. The earthen cavity was not too high up the small mountain, and it only took me about twenty-five minutes to reach it. Scattered stones rose from the grass and moss covering much of the hill which made the climbing much easier.

When I peeked my head into the cavern and gave my eyes a moment to adjust to the dark, I thought I could make out a very dim glow emanating from inside. I thought it might simply be the sunlight illuminating a cloud of mist or dust. Perhaps it was a bio-luminescent mold or bacterial growth in the damp cave walls.

I checked my flashlights to make sure I did not damage them when I fell. The bulbs shined brightly in each one, so I felt confident I would be fine. Turning the lights back off, I stepped a little deeper into the cave and further away from the warming rays of the sun. As my eyes progressively adjusted to the dimmer light, I steadily made my way in a bit deeper.

I did indeed see a dim yellowish glow coming from deeper inside the cavern. The tunnel was natural, and very irregular in shape, so it was not possible for me to see the source of the strange light. I heard of luminescent plants, fungi and even some deep-sea animals producing their own light, but this appeared much too bright for something like that.

Before I lost sight of the daylight, I tied the end of my fishing line to a small rock outcropping. If my lights failed, or if I got turned around the wrong way, I could use the line to find my way back out of the ground. I learned this life saving lesson the first time I went into a small cavern with so many branches, twists and turns I found myself lost. Luckily that time I found my exit before the battery in my flashlight was exhausted.

I slid the red filter over the bulb of the lamplight, adjusted the dial to the dimmest possible setting then closing my eyes tightly, I turned on the lamplight. Confident I had it on the lowest setting, I slowly opened my eyes. I was cautious not to blind myself before exploring any deeper, and with the light on dim the batteries would last longer. The red filter would allow my eyes to stay adjusted to the very low level of light.

Some places in this crude passageway were tall and wide enough so as not to cause me any problems. Most of it though was short and narrow. In these places I had to crawl or even shuffle forward on my stomach to get through. I felt relieved any time I found a larger opening. In these places I knew I could turn myself around. It was very comforting to know, if I hit a dead end, I would not have to back myself up all the way to the surface.

Progress was slow, but that was to be expected. In such small passages of jagged rocks and rugged ground, I needed to take a lot of care to avoid seriously injuring myself. Almost half an hour into my trek, I stopped to rest for a moment. In order to preserve my light’s battery, I turned it off as I set there to rest.

It was not so obvious with the light on, but with my light off that slightly green tinted, yellow glow appeared to be getting brighter. I was not sure if it was because I was in absolute darkness or if it was brighter than it was when I was still near the entrance. I sat there for five or ten minutes. Glancing further into the cave, I tried to find a source. Too many twists and turns remained ahead of me to get a clear look.

After climbing, walking and crawling through the bowels of the earth for nearly two hours, the small capillary in which I traveled spread into a larger cave. Unfortunately, a fifteen-foot rock facing separated me from the opening. I had to climb up the damp rock to continue my journey.

I turned my light off and sure enough I found the strange glow to be even brighter here. It was even bright enough to allow me to climb without the use of my flashlight. First, I tugged and shook on the stones of the wall to make sure they were good and stable before I began my ascent.

At the top of the rock face, the ground leveled out into a large grotto. I crawled into the large space and quickly brought myself to my feet. Finally, I found the astounding source of the strange light. I could not wrap my mind around what I saw. The grotto was only a niche in a much-much larger cave.

Covering the walls and ceiling were hundreds of thousands of insects twice the size of a man. The creatures crawled about, and the whole place seemed to sparkle as the giant bugs turned on and off luminescent bulbs at the end of their abdomen. They produced a yellow light, but occasionally and very briefly some of their wings flashed a bright green.

Fear wrapped its strangling fingers around my throat for a moment. I could not breathe. Seeing such massive insects shook me and left me unable to move. I did not know what these things ate, but I certainly did not want to be on their menu. The giant insects clung to the ceiling and walls, crawling around the stone and over each other. When I finally decided it appeared the massive bugs had no interest in me, I continued to move forward.

The grotto in which I stood was far above the floor of the giant cavern, so I was unable to see what was below. I slowly moved forward until I could see what was at the bottom. I was most assuredly afraid, but I believed I made an astonishing discovery. In the luminous cave, I found something no other human in recorded history ever set eyes on.

Illuminated by the swarm of insects above I saw mushrooms the size of trees covering much of the cavern floor, and giant stalagmites rose into the air. I heard of fossils of mushrooms this size being found, but no reports in modern times of any live fungi this large were ever made. None of the insects appeared to be on the ground. Apparently, they stayed on the walls and ceiling. I thought perhaps they consumed the mushrooms, and I wanted to get down there so I could take a better look.

Something of a ramp ran along the wall connecting the grotto to the lower level. Some of the bugs crawled on and around the ramp, but this appeared to be the only way down. If I wanted to explore the bottom, I had to get through the giant beetles. This was something I definitely did not want to do, but I had no choice if I wanted to see more.

Very slowly, I began to take one tiny step after another. To my relief, the enormous insects stayed safely away from me. Whenever I approached one, it would slowly scurry out of my way. They seemed to be leery of me, but not afraid.

The ramp was long, and moving as slowly as I did, it took me nearly an hour before I could better see what was below. Here and there I saw the beetles feeding on the top of the mushrooms. An amazingly large variety of mushrooms grew in this strange place, but the creatures appeared to be particular in what they ate. Displaying none of their bioluminescence, the beetles chewed the tops off what look like morels.

The bugs quietly descended from the walls or ceiling landing on these thirty-foot-tall mushrooms. They did not fly down; it was more like they were gliding as if to make no sound. For only minutes at a time the giant insects fed. As they abandoned their eating spot, they ascended quickly into the air. Fluttering about for several minutes, the beetles then found a landing place on the ceiling or walls.

A ridge varying in height from a foot to fifteen feet tall stood between me and what was beyond in the cave. Initially I thought it was some natural rock formation. Upon closer inspection, I found the ridge to be composed of feces. The massive lightening bugs crawled on the walls and released their droppings from there. I started to worry a massive dropping from one of the huge things from that height might kill me. I found the shortest place and as quickly as I possibly could I jumped across.

I still landed at the edge of the fecal ridge and almost lost my balance. When my feet shifted slightly under me, I came close to falling backward into the pile of insect dung. It did not stink that much at even a short distance, but the discards held a deeply pungent odor up close. I nearly vomited at the thought of almost falling into it.

My first spool of fishing line exhausted shortly after I reached the grotto. I looked for a good place to tie off my second spool, but I changed my mind. With the yellow lights crawling about, the ramp was obvious and visible. I decided to hang on to it for later use.

The fungi forest was comprised of mushrooms varying from an inch to thirty feet in height. Feeling the stalks, I found them to be at least as hard as wood. Some mushrooms grew in tight clusters, reaching a height of only six feet or so with much smaller caps and tender stalks.

Because of the size of the mushrooms and their caps, seeing into the fungal forest was nearly impossible. Only specks of light from above found its way between the caps and onto the cavern floor. Given the near absolute darkness of the forest, I found a narrow, five-foot-tall stalk to which I could attach my fishing line.

I had to use my flashlight if I was going to go any further. I made sure I still had the red filter in my powerful lamplight. Keeping the power adjusted to the dimmest setting, I turned it on and allowed my eyes to acclimate to the darkness. Using a bright white light would keep me blinded to everything on which I was not shining it.

An amazing number of different mushrooms filled the area. Some of them resembled mushrooms with which I was familiar, but many more were much stranger. In this subterranean world, plants did not have the necessary sunlight to develop. The fungus here was allowed to evolve and grew much more so than on the surface.

I tied off my line, and after scanning the area for a good five minutes, I slowly and cautiously began to enter the mushroom forest. Fecal material from the insects dripped off the caps here and there, but not too frequently. When I looked at some of the shorter stalks, I saw many of the round caps were concave and not convex. It appeared these mushrooms evolved to absorb nutrients from the top rather than what was on the ground and below the slick, thin soil.

Slowly I scanned the area with my flashlight and then began cautiously moving into the fungi forest. Thus far I saw no forms of animal life beside myself with the obvious exception of the giant insects. I was sure I would see rodents and possibly common insects, but there was nothing but the colossal mushrooms.

I had to be careful to watch my step. The cave was probably at one-hundred percent humidity, and although the ground was mostly rocky, it was very slick. I did not know if it was fungi, a sort of algae or simply the dampness, but I almost slipped on the slimy surface several times. The last thing I needed was to injure myself and be unable to get back out.

At one point, the ground began to slope. It only dropped gradually at first, but the floor became steeper and steeper. I tried to find a way around it, but the slope seemed to cover the whole ground area. With the rocks so slippery, I almost turned back. Right before I turned to go, I noticed the sloping ground turned into what appeared to be another ramp leading even deeper into the earth.

I decided to proceed and see where this new ramp led. Something suddenly dawned on me and left my head spinning. It became obvious to me this was not a natural ramp. Clear tool marks scoured the wall and floor. I would think perhaps it was carved by primitive man a long time ago, but there was a dry trail leading right through the middle. Something used this ramp often enough and maintain a worn path.

I would think the narrow trail worn through the slime on the floor to be made by some animal, but the tool marks proved otherwise. At this point I really thought about turning around and running back to the exit. This was quite terrifying, but it was also exhilarating. I was probably about to discover an intelligent species no human ever encountered. I could only hope they were a benevolent race.

They did seem to be completely isolated from the rest of the world, so it was very possible they never encountered someone from the human race in the past. There was a possibility that could make me seem very frightening to them.

I carefully made my way to the ramp. With the steady drop of the slope, I still feared the danger of slipping and falling. I made it about twenty feet down the ramp when I heard a loud hissing sort of screech far behind me. I could hear the frantic fluttering of wings. It suddenly occurred to me, the reason the giant insects descended quietly, fed for only a few minutes, then fluttered loudly back to the upper section of the chamber. They were avoiding and warning the others of a predator.

Now I did not know what to do. I wondered if I walked past or right under whatever just attacked that giant bug. If I did encounter something, I had no idea what to expect. If I did pass one, why did it not attack me?

Then it dawned on me. The reason I saw no other animal life here on the ground was because everything was overhunted to the point of extinction. There was nothing at the ground level for these predators to eat except for the occasional unfortunate insect. Terror washed over me as I realized I may be their next meal.

Horror coursed through every nerve in my body making me shiver with fright. Standing there at the top of this ramp, I realized I would assuredly become food if one of those predators found me. I was not sure if I would be safer in a clearing so I could better see something coming, or if I should go back into the forest of mushrooms. There I may be more concealed, but so would anything out there hunting me. I now deeply regretted my decision to explore this wondrous world on my own.

Moving very slowly, controlling my breathing, and otherwise trying to remain silent, I used my fishing line to lead me back to my original location. I maybe made it a hundred feet when I felt a forceful tug pull on the plastic line. Nothing else happened for a few minutes, then I felt the fishing line begin to twitch and vibrate.

Whatever the thing was, it was following the line and could be making its way to me. Now I was faced with one of the greatest challenges yet. I could keep following my line and hope whatever held it would let it go, or I could move deeper into the haunting, fungi forest and take the chance of becoming hopelessly lost.

I could hear nothing. Whatever was following my line made no sound I could hear. The tugging on the string told me whatever it was, it was getting closer. I resolved to the fact I had to let go and hide amongst the giant fungal stalks.

It was not possible for me to turn off my light. Without it, I would do nothing but stumble around in the darkness. I kept it dim and left the red filter in place. I hoped, since whatever this was lived in a subterranean world, it would have very poor eyesight at the least.

If this thing did have poor or no eyesight, it had to rely on other senses. At that moment I noticed how loud my breathing seemed to be in the silence of the cap covered forest. Each step I took now sounded to me like a bolder hitting the ground.

I tried to calm myself and ease my breath and took great care in keeping my footfalls silent. Slowly I moved away from my lifeline and stepped further into the fungi forest. I did not know what was coming toward me, but this was its world. If I did not keep quiet, this thing was sure to follow me.

If one of these creatures was near, it only made sense to reason that more of them would be stalking about. I could be surrounded by these predators and not even know it. I truly wished I never came to this subterrainian world, especially not alone. No one else knew I was here. If something was to happen to me, my body would probably never be recovered.

I stood with my back against one of the giant fungi stalks and watched for whatever followed my line. Finally, something came into view. It was like no creature I ever saw or heard of. It appeared somewhat human, but its features were grotesquely distorted. Its arms and legs stretched a foot or two longer than a normal person. It crawled on all fours, plucking at the line as it went. The torso was short, and its neck was afixed to the back of its head instead of below the jaw, making it face straight forward in a terrifyingly distorted way.

Suddenly it stopped at the point where I let go of the line and stepped deeper into the forest. Sniffing the ground, it began to follow my scent toward my current position. With it coming toward me, I got a better look at the hideous face. Its eyes appeared a milky white giving it the appearance of a corpse. Its nose was long and sharp, which it used to track me. The ears were massively oversized, which told me it could hear very well.

I tried stepping backwards, but I could not watch it and where I was going at the same time. I turned and began to walk away, but it obviously heard me. It scuttled along the ground with rapid motions and would be upon me very soon. I tried getting away as fast as I could, but my feet were not made for this terrain. This thing obviously was. It was on me in no time.

The creature sprung through the air from twenty feet away to crash down right on top of me. I felt its talons dig into my skin as it knocked me to the ground. The pain was absolutely excruciating. I did not know if it had venom in its talons or if it was simply the bacteria and grime under its nails. Whatever it was, it stung immensely, like lye poured into a wound.

I wrestled with the beast as it tried to pin me solidly against the ground. The creature evolved for this underground world, but it was not built for fighting something like me. It had a very poor range of motion in its neck, and it could barely lower its head toward me, which put me at somewhat of an advantage. I struggled against this thing, then I managed to reach my shin and remove the fishing knife I kept tucked in my boot.

In our struggle, I almost dropped the knife several times. Finally, I obtained a solid grip on the handle and plunged the blade straight into its chest. When the metal pierced its sickly pale flesh, it let out a piercing scream. It squealed so loudly, the volume caused my ears to throb. With it distracted from the pain, I managed to free myself from its grasp, and I plunged the knife into it over and over. Ichor so dark red it was almost black spilled out of its wounds. It covered my shirt, arms and face. The stench was so intense I almost began to vomit.

Finally, the thing stopped its screaming and struggling and fell limp on top of me. As I fought to roll the beast off of me, I heard the screams of others in the distance. Others heard its piercing screech and were no doubt coming to its aid.

It was difficult in this mushroom forest for me to determine the direction from which the other screams came. I could not tell if it was an echo effect or if the things were surrounding me. I put the deceased creature to my back and began to run as fast as the slick ground allowed. In our struggle, I lost my sense of direction and could only pray I was not running back to the ramp descending deeper into the earth. If I was to survive this ordeal, I needed to find a way back to the sunlit world. Going further down would surely mean my demise.

Here and there I could see a bit of light coming from the ceiling crawling insects. I looked for some sign as to which direction my exit might be, but I could only make out small portions of the ceiling at a time. I could not see the walls of the giant cavern at all. My only hope was to keep in the direction I was headed.

I heard these things screeching softly and knew they were closing in on me quick. I picked up my pace and made no more effort trying to be quiet. These encroaching creatures followed my scent, so noise really did not matter at this point. Even as adept as these creatures were to this terrain, I could hear their taloned digits scuffling toward me.

I turned back as I was running in an attempt to see my pursuers. I only turned for a very brief moment, but that was far too long. I should not have looked back, because as soon as I did, I slid on a cone of insect dung and plunged face first into a six-foot-tall pile of guano fallen between some of the giant mushroom caps. What came next was the last thing I would expect. The grotesque abomination ran right past me. It continued another fifty feet or so, and then screeched so loudly, it echoed through the forest.

Four more of these abominations of what might have once been humans arrived at my location. They screeched back and forth, talking I guess. Fanning out, they sniffed the ground and mushroom stalks in the immediate area. On two occasions, the creatures moved right around me.

It was the dung. Apparently, these things relied mostly on their sense of smell. As disgusting as it was, sinking into the pile of insect feces saved my life. The smell of the guano was much stronger than my own scent, so I was now invisible to them.

They continued to scan the area, following the scent of my trail which led me here. I could not really say how long they searched for me as time felt meaningless. Eventually, they gave up and all five ran off in the direction I believed the descending ramp to be. I waited for a long time. I waited to see if I could hear any of them before I moved.

I tried to clean the lens of my flashlight, but I could not get it to produce enough illumination to be useful. Feces smeared on the lens blinded the glow. There was one option available to me, I could remove the dung smeared filter and shine it in its normal brightness. I was entirely certain these creatures were blind, so I did not worry about the glow of my electric lamp drawing any of their attention.

Now I could see the slick ground and the large stalks clearly. It was an amazing sight, were I not terrified beyond comprehension. All that mattered now was getting out of here.

Slowly and quietly I rose to a standing position. I tucked my pants into my boots and filled my jeans with the dung. I filled my pants pockets. I tucked my shirt into my pants and filled that as well. I caked it on the outside of my jeans. The smell was ghastly and the fumes stung my nose and caused my eyes to burn. Struggling not to vomit, I caked as much of the material on my body as would stick.

Once I felt comfortable my scent was sufficiently masked, I began to walk toe to heel very slowly. Very quietly I moved forward scanning the area with my large flashlight. It was hard to say how long I walked, but my heart raced with excitement when my lamp shined upon a wall of stone. I reached the side of the cavern.

I moved along the wall watching the lightening bugs above. I was trying to find some indication as to where my ramp to the outside was. I thought it would be easy to locate, but from this angle, it was really difficult to tell. Eventually I reached a rather large patch devoid of the massive mushrooms.

Scanning the walls, I finally located the ramp by which I entered. It was on the far side of the cavern. I went the wrong direction and was now the furthest from my exit as I could possibly be. Tears ran from my eyes, not from the horribly pungent odor covering my body, but because of the fact I knew I would never leave this place.

My lips began to tremble as I fell to my knees. As hard as I was trying to escape this dungeon, all I did was get myself even deeper into the nightmare. It seemed all hope was lost until I looked upward. A light shined into the cavern from above. I thought it no more than an illusion, a figment of my terrified mind desperate for escape, but after a few moments I was sure it was real.

It was probably one hundred feet or so up a steep incline. Regaining my composure, I rose to my feet and started making my way along the base of the wall. The wall was steep, but it was also very craggy. The rocks provided plenty of hand and footholds. It was well within my ability to climb. I just had to make sure I did not let myself slip on the slick rocks at the bottom.

I wiped the drying dung from my hands. I could not hold onto my flashlight and climb at the same time, so I undid part of my belt, slipped it through the handle then re-buckled it. I would not be able to direct my light very well at all, but it did allow me to see the stone wall immediately in front of me.

Carefully and quietly, I began my ascent. The craggy wall was slick at the bottom but became drier and coarser as I moved upward. It was a long climb. I wanted to go as fast as I could, but I had to continue to be as quiet as I could be. I was very careful to make sure each stone was firmly in place before putting any weight on it. I did not want to kick a rock loose or anything else to alert the abominations in the fungi forest as to my current location.

When I was almost two thirds of the way to my escape, my left foot slipped underneath me. I managed to keep my grip, but I smashed my leg against the stone. My shin scraped against the rock, and from sheer instinct I almost cried out in pain. I was able to restrain myself and did not shout as my instincts told me to do.

Planting my feet once again on the stone jutting out below me, I continued my climb to the glorious light of the sun shining through the small hole. As I approached the exit, I saw the carapace of some of the lightening bugs here and there. It looked like perhaps the insects died, fell down the wall and wedged into the rocks.

My heart raced and my ears rang as my blood pressure increased. Anxiety, fear and joy caused my head and knees to shake. I had to be careful. I was too close to my escape, and I was not going to let this opportunity slip away from me. It was a blessing to find this opening after I journeyed so far from my original entrance.

Determining the size of the opening when I was at the floor of the cavern was difficult, but as I got closer and closer, I could see the opening was plenty large enough for me to crawl out. It was fortunate for me as I worried I may have to jar stones loose to widen the opening.

An unbelievable sense of relief washed over me when the warm light began to shine on my face. The rays of the sun never looked so beautiful. I grabbed onto the outer edge of the hole and pulled myself out. I nearly let loose when I saw what covered the slope outside.

Spread across the ground I saw hundreds or possibly thousands of the chitinous shells of lightening bugs. That was not what terrified me so much. When I looked around, I saw the bones of cattle, deer and all sorts of wild animals. That meant either the poor animals somehow wandered into the cavern, which seemed unlikely, or the more logical answer was these monsters hunted outside of their subterranean world.

A wave of nausea, numbness and horror washed over me when I saw the skulls and bones around me. Among all the animal bones and insect carapace, I saw the skulls of several human beings. I did not know how they ended up being a part of this field of bones. Perhaps these creatures were responsible for the occasional unfortunate missing hiker in the mountains over the years.

As I started to pull myself the rest of the way out of the darkness, I felt something grab hold of my legs. I screamed in agony as something sharp pierced my flesh. The pain was so intense I could not breathe, and it burned, like lye.

My heart was still beating as I felt those subterranean terrors rip the flesh from my legs. Here I was so close to escaping back into my world, and the underground humanoids located me. Their sharp talons tore into my abdomen, and I could no longer hold myself out of the hole.

I did not realize my excitement to reach the surface increased my blood pressure which caused the abrasion on my shin to bleed. I covered myself in guano to hide from them, and they located me over the scent of the blood from a small scrape on my leg.

The deformed beasts pulled me into the hole as they ripped the organs from my body. Right there, they feasted on my flesh. Helplessly I watched them tearing me apart; then suddenly everything got cold. The darkness of death finally took me.

I was so close. I reached the warm, welcoming sunlight and thought I was safe. I was dead wrong, literally. I was momentarily back in my world and those abominations drug me back into theirs. Soon, after they were done feasting on my soft flesh, I would return to the surface take my place as part of the bone yard.

Photo by Dwight Tracy from Freerange Stock

Leave Us Alone

By Mychal Wilson

On October 28, 2019

In Aetet 1, Fourth Triad, Short Stories

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.”

Boarded Up House

By Mychal Wilson

On October 10, 2019

In Aetet 2, Fourth Triad, Vastness of Reality

Word Count: 2,671

I awoke lying on the damp ground and surrounded by hardwood trees. Smooth gray clouds covered the dim sky, and a slightly chilling drizzle made its way to me from between the leafy treetops. It was difficult to think. My mind was nothing but a haze.

I am not sure what happened. The last thing I can recall was driving my lovely wife and two children through a high-end residential area. We were headed to the home of a long-time work friend. He was having a huge barbeque party and invited my family and me to join in on the food and festivities.

I drove us into the large gated community, greeting the familiar guard as we entered. We were almost to my friend’s house, and then I recall seeing a blinding light. Sometime later I woke up lying in the woods with a pounding headache.

Immediately my palms began to tremble with anxiety and my knees shook with terror. I could feel my legs buckling beneath me. My heart pounded rapidly in my chest, and I began to hyperventilate as I went into a full panic. My first thought was we were in a car accident. The accident must have thrown me free, and I landed here.

When I saw a street light glowing in the night several hundred feet through the obscuring trees, I knew that could not be the case. It is not possible that a car accident could throw me this far through the woods. I would have hit a tree and stopped long before I could make here.

The second thought to cross my mind was I must have hit my head and wondered away in a daze. Strenuously I raised myself to my feet and began to sprint toward the light. Either I was not injured, or I was too worried about my family to notice the pain.

My head on the other hand beat like and African drum. My eyes blurred from the excruciating pain and I could hear the roaring rush of blood in my ears. Despite the hindrance, I struggled to run out of these woods as quickly as I could.

I guess I reached my threshold because only twenty or thirty feet from the street light, my knees buckled under me. I plunged face first onto the ground again falling into unconsciousness. When I next awoke, the sun was out. By the looks of it, it was still early morning.

Not far away at all I saw cars passing by. Forcing myself back to my feet, I staggered through the remainder of the forest. When I made it to the clearing and onto a sidewalk, I had no idea where I was. Frantically I looked around for something familiar.

As I attempted to discern my location; I also looked for any signs of an accident. I saw no wreckage, no tire marks or any broken glass. If I was indeed in an accident, I must have wandered far away. Perhaps the road on which the accident occurred was on the other side of the forest.

I staggered along the light-gray concrete sidewalk for ten minutes or so and finally I spotted my friend’s car. It was parked in the driveway of the ranch-style house next to his blue-gray Tudor, but I knew without a doubt the car was his. I thought perhaps his neighbors allowed him to park in their driveway so those attending the party last night could park on his property.

I did not know why he parked there, and I did not care. As fast as I could force my weary body to move, I headed directly for his house. Two times I tripped and fell on his lawn before I made it to his front porch.

In my frantic state, I beat hard on the door while simultaneously ringing the doorbell over and over. I allowed a few seconds to pass and resumed pounding on the door as I screamed for help. I heard someone call out from the house next door.

“They’re out of town for a few days,” the man from the neighboring house yelled. “Is there something I can help you with?”

Propping my exhausted body against the door frame, I turned to look at the man addressing me. It was my friend. He was wearing a bath robe and it appeared he was out getting his morning paper when he heard the commotion and observed me beating on the hardwood door.

I was sure this was his house. I thought perhaps in my panicked state, I got the houses wrong. I never visited his home before, but I knew this area. It seemed like the directions he gave me on Friday sent me to this house, but obviously I was wrong. I did not care. I was relieved to at least know where I was.

As I did my best to run toward my colleague, I yelled out, “Something happened. I think I was in and accident and I don’t know where Susan and the girls are.”

He beaconed me with a repeated wave of his hand. When I reached him, he took me by the shoulders to help steady my trembling body. Looking at me with an unfamiliar gaze, he tried to calm me.

“Slow down sir,” he said. “Tell me what happened.”

I quickly explained to him the last thing I remembered was going to his house for the cookout, then the next thing I knew I woke up in a large patch of woods. He looked at me with a face filled with confusion. Right then his young wife came to the door and asked if everything was okay.

“You’d better call the police,” he told her in a tone somehow sounding both calm and distressed.

My friend helped me to the porch swing and instructed me to sit down. As I caught my breath, I explained to him Susan, the girls and I got ready and were headed for his house for the barbeque. I explained to him that we were driving, and were almost here, when I think we had an accident. I told him I did not know where my wife and daughters were, and I was terrified something happened to them.

He looked at me like he was even more confused. I started to wonder if we did make it to the party and something happened on the way home. Perhaps that is what he found so confusing. I did not know what happened. All I cared about at the moment was where my family was and if they were alright.

“I am sure the police will be able to help you sir,” my friend and longtime co-worker said.

That was several times he used the word sir to address me. I did not know why. It was not like I was his boss or anything. I did not have the time to speculate on why he spoke to me in such a way, so I flatly asked him why he kept calling me sir.

With a quizzical look on his face, he shook his head gently and said, “Well, I don’t know your name, and you did not introduce yourself.”

I stood to face my good friend and angrily poked him several times hard in the chest. He backed away but did not look like he planned to strike back. He seemed to be trying hard to remain calm, but I could see fear growing in his eyes.

“That is not funny,” I snapped at him as I jabbed his ribs with my finger. “Please, for the love of God, if you know where Susan and my girls are, tell me. This is no time to joke.”

Now seemingly incredibly perplexed, the man in front of me tried to explain he had no party last night. He did not know me and he insisted he did not know my wife or our girls.

“Come on,” I pleaded, growing close to shedding tears. “We’ve worked together at the same firm for ten years.”

Again, softly shaking his head, the man with whom I was so familiar said to me, “Sir, I don’t work at any firm. I am an engineer at the railroad.”

By this time I had enough. I was terrified. I did not need my friend pranking me. Shaking him by the shoulders, I demanded he stop this foolishness and tell me what happened. He tried to pull away from my grip, but his back was already against the wall.

I began to shout and almost immediately heard someone call out from the street.

“Sir, I need you to let go of that other gentleman and take a few steps back,” a uniformed police officer said.

Some sense of relief washed over me when I saw the two officers and their patrol car. If anyone could help me figure out what happened and where my family was, it would be them. In my brief moment of zeal, I ran, or rather scrambled toward the officers.

“Sir, you need to stop where you are right now,” the officer nearest me ordered in a stern tone. Both officers placed their hands on their sidearm. In my current frame of mind, I did not think of how the police would consider me charging toward them a threat.

I froze in my tracks. Tears welled up in my eyes.

“Please help me, you have to help me,” I begged. “I can’t remember last night, and now I have no idea what happened to my family.”

“Please!” I cried.

The officers approached me and asked me to explain the situation.

As I tried to piece things together so I could explain it to the police, the second officer asked me if I had any identification. Not even thinking, I pulled my wallet out of my back pocket and removed my driver’s license. Without interrupting my explanation to the first officer, I handed the second my ID.

Once I told him everything, he instructed me to stay where I was and approached the scared and confused couple standing on the front porch of the smaller house. I could see by my friend’s demeanor as he told the policeman he did not know me. I almost ran over there to ask him why he was doing this to me, but I knew that would not be a smart thing to do.

My friend and his wife went back into their house, and the officer headed over to me again. Before he reached me, the other law-enforcement officer beckoned him over with a nod of his head. The two stood closely. Their backs turned away from me just enough that I could not attempt to read their lips. It was probably only one or two minutes, but it felt like they talked for hours before finally coming back over to me.

“Can you verify your name for me sir?” the first officer inquired.

I answered the question, and then he had me verify my address and finally my driver’s license number. As I answered each question I grew more and more frustrated. We were wasting time that we could spend trying to find my family. I had enough and in an angered tone I asked them why they were not helping me.

“It appears sir that this driver’s license is fake,” the second officer said. “Our system does not have your name, the DL number is not valid, and no one registered with the department of motor vehicles lives at that address.”

My head spun as I listened to his words. I nearly passed out. I could not remember last night. Could I have sustained a head injury bad enough to make me this delusional?

I began to sob as my knees buckled underneath me. One of the officers grabbed a hold of me before I crumpled to the ground. Helping me remain erect, the two officers assisted me to the patrol car.

“Let’s get you over here so you can sit down. Then we can try to figure out what is going on,” one of them said as they led me to be back seat of the patrol car.

“Now, tell me again what happened,” the first officer instructed.

“I already explained it,” I said quite loudly with an obvious tone of anger to my voice.

“Sir please,” the second officer said. “You need to calm down.”

“Look, I told you my wife, daughters and I were going to a barbeque,” I reiterated. I went through the details of what I could remember once again.

“And you were going to this man’s house for the barbeque,” the second officer continued. “The problem sir is they said they had no barbeque yesterday and neither of them knows who you are.”

“Okay,” I said. “I thought that was his house,” I explained as I pointed at the larger domicile. “Once I realized he lived in that smaller house, I wondered why he did not have this gathering at the pa-park over….”

I did not finish my sentence. When I pointed to the park, I instead found myself looking at the forest I recently staggered out of. There was no park. I knew without a doubt a park once existed there. On more than one occasion Susan, the girls and I went there for a picnic, to fly kites and so forth.

Was I going insane or was I insane already? How could so many of the details I remembered so well be so wrong. For a moment I thought I was dreaming, but I ruled that out quickly. This was too vivid.

“Ok sir,” the first officer said. “We are going to bring you to the address on your license.”

“If it is a fake, it is a very-very good one,” I heard the second officer whisper to the first.

They did not handcuff me, but they did close me in the back seat of the car. I suppose they had to, but this enclosure almost sent me into a whole new level of panic. I tried not to think about being confined and focused my attention out the window.

As we reached my neighborhood, it shocked me when I noticed the conditions of some of the lawns. They had brown spots, a major sign of grubs. The trees along the road on which I lived were mostly gone. The remaining trees appeared to be quite sickly.

I recognized the houses, but they looked like no one performed any upkeep on them for years. Car parts and furniture littered some of the yards. Lawns were allowed to grow deep in some areas. I did not understand. The homeowners’ association would never allow these conditions to exist.

Finally we reached my address. My head swirled and I became very disoriented. I did not panic this time. I believe I was in too much of a state of shock and felt little else.

This could not be possible. My friend did not know me. My driver’s license number did not exist. The park my family and I frequented was gone as if it were never built. The finely manicured neighborhood in which I lived for twenty years was quite dilapidated and run down.

Perhaps I could believe some of that, but what I saw at the moment made me question my existence. Looking at the beautiful home in which Susan and I raised our children I saw it was in serious disrepair. A small portion of the roof looked like it collapsed some time ago. I was looking at my home, my once beautiful home. Instead of seeing the house I remembered, I looked at an old, dilapidated building.

In the front seat, one officer said, “Why are we wasting our time sitting here.”

“I don’t know,” the other replied as he glanced at the empty back seat.

“Well drive somewhere. I don’t know why we are sitting here in front of this boarded up house.”

Father to Son

By Mychal Wilson

On September 22, 2019

In Aetet 1, Fourth Triad, Vastness of Reality

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.”

Themselves

By Mychal Wilson

On September 4, 2019

In Aetet 1, Fourth Triad, Vastness of Reality

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.

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