The screams echoed through the trees.
I couldn't tell if they were human or animal.
All I knew was they were loud, which meant they were close.
As I listened to the high pitched shrieks, it almost
sounded like a couple of people having a shouting match.
If I had been at my apartment in town, that's exactly what I
would have thought the sound was.
But then the pitch changed, and it took on a feral quality.
I knew whoever or whatever was making the sound I wanted
nothing to do with them. Thinking you're alone in the
wilderness is one thing. It gives a certain freeing
feeling, like you're so close to nature.
But knowing you're alone, and hearing the terrifying, nearly
indescribable sound sent chills down my spine, I quickly
questioned how much longer I would be alone or alive.
Did those things know I was here?
Were they planning their attack? Or was it just a gathering of
something, like a harmless chill session in the woods in the dead
of night? My survival instinct was
screaming for me to get out of there as quickly as possible.
To hell with the tent and my supplies.
Just leave For a brief moment, I nearly listened.
Later, I would wish I had. Fortunately, I hadn't made a
fire yet and decided against one.
Now, if by some miracle those things didn't know I was here, a
fire would draw them in like flies too.
Well, something I didn't want to be in, even though the screaming
was still going at a fever pitch.
I quietly snuck into my tent and zipped it shut, as if some
flimsy material would magically keep at Bay whatever beasts were
raging out there. Searching through my pack, I
found my Swiss Army knife and kept it firm in my grasp as I
lay down on my sleeping bag. I didn't dare settle in for the
night. Sleeping through, being attacked
by wild whatever and torn to shreds can be bad for my health.
As I lay there, eyes wide, listening to the horrible
shrieks that seem to come from everywhere, they suddenly
stopped. At first this was a relief, but
when the sound stopped, so did all the other noises in the
forest. It was as if someone had hit the
mute button on all of nature. I heard a loud thumping sound
that sounded like drums beating faster and faster until I
realized it was my heart. Trying to calm myself so I
didn't have a heart attack on the spot was a challenge.
I tried to think of calm blue oceans and sunrises of beautiful
things that had nothing to do with the situation I was in.
Apparently I did my job too well.
I don't remember falling asleep, but I remember waking up in a
panic. Jumping up.
I looked all around for the beasts that were coming to get
me. When all that stared back at me
were the contents of my backpack and the four walls of the tent,
I allowed myself to take a few deep breaths.
It was morning, the sun was up and the birds were singing.
I took both of those as good signs.
Being alive was a bonus as well. It was decision time.
Should I pack up and cut my trip short by two days?
Or should I write off last night's incident as a rare
occurrence and not worry about it today in the daylight as the
sun bathed me in warmth. It's funny how fear manifests
itself so much stronger at night.
Last night, the forest seemed like the most horrifying place
I'd ever been. Today it looks like all the
beauty of nature is spread out before me.
I couldn't imagine anything bad happening in such a picturesque
place. As I looked out over the
clearing in the woods, I saw a large dark spot that was moving
towards me. I dove into my tent and emerged
with a pair of binoculars. Peering through them, I saw the
spot was a bear and it was headed my way.
So much for nothing bad happening in nature.
My plan of action was to hide and hope it went away, or turn
down another path before it got here.
That plan didn't work out so well.
Within 15 minutes I could hear it snuffling around the campsite
looking for something to eat. I hoped it wouldn't be eating
fresh camper. The can of bear spray was firmly
in my hand with my white knuckles clenching it.
Having it was one thing, using it was another.
That was my last resort, spray and run.
The sniffing got louder and I could see a large nose pushing
into the bottom edges of the tent.
My knuckles grew a little wider as I followed its progress along
the edge and around the tent. And then there was a pause, a
dreadful pause. The kind of pause that horrible
decisions are born from. I was contemplating my own
horrible decision when the sniffing started again, this
time leading away from the tent. Breathing a cautiously
optimistic sigh of relief, I opened the tent flap just enough
to see the bear lumbering off into the woods again.
I held a silent vote, just like the song said.
Should I stay or should I go? I'd only been camping up here
once before, but I didn't remember it being this
dangerous. Maybe I just got lucky last
time, Not wanting my luck to run out, I packed up my tent and got
ready to leave. The sun was already high in the
sky, leaving me just a few hours to hike out of what had taken me
a full day to hike in. I looked for bear tracks to see
which way it had left, but the ground was dry so there was
nothing to see. Crossing my fingers, I headed
out on the trail, hoping it had gone some other way.
It was easy going, making the terror of last night fade even
more. I still kept a wary eye for the
bear, though. No use in getting so caught up
in nature that I ignore her dangers.
After around an hour of walking, I found a large rock on the side
of the trail and decided to take a break.
Pulling out a granola bar in a bottle of water, I looked around
as I snacked. There was a clearing in the
woods and a rough path leading to it.
It wasn't any official path, just one that happens when a lot
of feet go the same way and tramp down the foliage.
There was a faint whiff of smoke coming from the clearing, but I
couldn't see exactly what was causing it.
My curiosity wanted to see what was there, but my common sense
said no way. In the end, curiosity fought
dirty and said the smoke meant there had been a fire and the
ashes could blow into the trees if the wind picked up and caused
a wildfire. It was a good point, even though
the wind was uncannily still at the moment.
I took a quick look around to make sure the bear wasn't
sneaking up on me, then started down the narrow path.
The trees blocked out some of the light as I headed down the
path toward the clearing, making me literally descend Into
Darkness. It wasn't a good feeling.
My eyes darted around looking for anything out of the
ordinary, and I slowed my pace. Then suddenly the trees opened
up and daylight shone brightly on the clearing and the remnants
of a fire with a wisp of smoke still rising.
Whoever had made it had been dangerously uncaring about the
safety of the woods. The fire sat right in the middle
of a patch of grass with no ring of stone surrounding it.
My ire rose at the carelessness of this person.
I found myself wishing very bad things on them when I noticed
something else. There were splotches of red all
around the fire. It was like someone had spilled
red paint all around. It was strange.
Why would someone bring paint out here to the middle of the
woods? I stalked around the other side
of the fire looking for the answer to this mystery.
Unfortunately, I found it. There was something pale sitting
just outside the burnt grass of the fire.
It was next to a splotch of red. I bent down and move the grass
to see more clearly. Picking it up, I saw it was a
severed human toe. I dropped it and stood up like a
shot. The red splotches made sense to
me now. They weren't painted.
They were blood. A chill ran down my spine.
I suddenly felt very alone and surrounded.
My eyes darted all around the clearing and into the trees as I
did a slow circle, searching for whatever was about to attack.
As I searched, I saw the red splotches LED off into the woods
in the opposite direction of the trail.
Curiosity tried to get me to follow, but I told it to shut
the hell up and high tailed it out of there, my head on a
swivel searching for threats. Just as I was about to reach the
main trail, I literally ran into the bear.
I've been so busy watching behind me for whatever might be
chasing me that I didn't see what was in front of me.
It turned to face me, showing its red teeth.
Then it stood on its hind legs, dwarfing me, and roared.
I wished I'd worn the brown pants because I soiled myself in
fear. I was so terrified I didn't
move. I couldn't.
I was paralyzed. It dropped back down onto its
front legs and approached me, teeth bared.
I knew right then it was responsible for the screams and
the dismembered toe. The only thing I couldn't figure
out was the fire. I'd never heard of bears being
able to start a fire. This was unfortunately the last
thought going through my head before being eaten.
It sniffed and took a step back. If I'd known dropping a load in
my pants would save me, I would have done it last night as I
looked into the eyes of my death.
It wasn't looking back at me, it was looking past me.
I wasn't sure what kind of trick this bear was pulling.
It wasn't like it had to fool me or anything.
It had me dead to rights. Curiosity made me turn and
follow the bears gaze. I instantly regretted it.
Standing near the clearing was a monster.
It was like nothing I'd ever seen before.
It stood on hind legs, at least 8 feet tall.
It had the horns of a deer, but the face looked like a deer's
skull with no skin on it. Its shoulders were covered in
what looked like a cloak made of another animal's skin.
The bear let out a deep growl full of menace.
I took the opportunity to back away and allow the bear a clear
path to its adversary. It glanced at me for a moment,
then started toward the monster. As soon as it was past me, I
dropped my pack and ran down the trail with every ounce of speed
I could muster. It didn't matter that my car was
miles away. It didn't matter.
There was no way I could Sprint all the way there without
collapsing and having a heart attack.
Just then I heard the fight, the growling, roaring, slashing,
knocking trees down fight that would have been awesome to watch
from inside a bunker with two foot thick concrete walls.
Just me, alone, without a rocket launcher to defend myself.
There was no way I was sticking around.
I ran for a solid 10 minutes before the stitch in my side
told me I had to at least slow to a walk I didn't dare stop.
I knew I had to keep moving. It was my only chance of
surviving by some miracle. The sounds of the fight echoed
throughout the trees, making it seem surreal to hear it, then
hear it echo back again. It sounded like the fight was
slowing down. I hoped it would last for a
while longer, maybe. Whichever one would forget about
me or be too tired to track me down.
My walk had become a limp. I was nearly out of energy and
had a mile to go to the relative safety of my car.
Surely by now I could take it easy.
As the thought rolled through my brain, the sounds of the fight
ceased. The fading echo was all that
remained. I wondered which one had been
victorious, and comforted myself that the victor was surely
enjoying the spoils by feasting on the fallen adversary.
But in the back of my mind unease grew.
What if it didn't forget me? What if it was following me
right now? I found myself walking a little
faster, much to the pain and chagrin of my legs.
The silence that fell in the aftermath of the fight was
disconcerting. The animals around me that had
been chattering away, suddenly falling silent, was alarming.
I started jogging, each step a new exercise in pain.
There was no doubt I was being followed, the footsteps behind
me. We're getting louder by the
moment. My car was insight.
I was almost free. The footsteps behind me were
very loud. Now I knew it was right behind
me, but I didn't dare look back. Run, don't think, just run.
My thoughts screamed at me. Even my curiosity had no desire
to look back. 10 steps from the car, I dug in my pocket, looking
for my keys. For a brief, terrifying moment,
I couldn't find them. Then I dug a little deeper and
came away with my prize. I hit the remote to unlock the
car and dove into the driver's seat.
The engine had just roared to life when the monster appeared.
I threw the car in reverse and stomped on the gas, whipping
around and making the monster mist crashing through the
windshield. I jammed it into drive and
floored it as the monster recovered and started after me.
For a long horrid moment, it seemed to be catching up to me.
The road was gravel and had several potholes in it.
I found myself swerving to miss the biggest one so my car
wouldn't bottom out, but by doing so the monster gained
ground. It was almost within reach of my
rear bumper when I slid sideways onto the main road.
Once on the pavement, I floored it and watched with satisfaction
as the monster fell behind. I breathed a sigh of relief as I
relaxed and settled in for the ride home.
It wasn't long until I was pulling into my driveway and
parking. My head fell back against the
headrest and I was tempted to take a nap right there when my
nose reminded me of the state of my pants.
Walking and empty handed was a mixed blessing.
I'd left hundreds of dollars in equipment behind, but at least I
was alive. My shower called to me.
I stripped through my pants and underwear in the trash, then
settled into the longest, most rewarding shower of my life.
After drying, I threw on a Metallica T-shirt and a pair of
shorts. I came back out to the living
room and settled in to watch a movie.
Horror was out. I knew I'd have nightmares for
weeks about my ordeal. I decided to watch an episode of
Wipeout. Three episodes later, I found my
eyelids fighting gravity and exhaustion.
Heading to bed. I turned out the lights and
stepped up to the living room window, looking out over the
lights of town. I sighed, seeing the trees of
the park far in the distance and knowing I'd never visit there
again before I turn toward my bedroom.
Something caught my eye. It was impossible.
I rubbed my eyes to be sure the monster was creeping out of the
woods and coming straight toward my house.
As I watched, it looked up, and saw me.
Our eyes locked, mine full of fear.
It's full of menace. I ran through the house, making
sure every door and window was locked.
After that, I went to my bedstand and pulled out my snub
nose 38, checking to make sure it was loaded and grabbing a
handful of extra bullets, shoving them in my pocket.
Running back out to the living room, I looked out the window,
but it was gone. Pressing my face against the
glass, I searched the front yard, but it wasn't there.
For an instant I wondered if my imagination had been playing
tricks on me. I went to the kitchen window and
looked into the backyard. It was dark and I couldn't see
much reaching for the light switch.
I hesitated, not wanting to see it suddenly appear in front of
me, but I had to know if this thing was real or not.
I would rather that I was going crazy than ever see that thing
again. Flicking on the light, I took a
half step back. Nothing was there.
I scanned the entire backyard all the way to the woods that
bordered my property. Nothing.
I shrugged and was about to go to bed when I heard it.
My foot stopped on the first step and I turned back toward
the door. Someone or something was
scraping against the front door. Feeling like I was in a trance,
I was drawn to the door. Leaning up to the peephole, I
closed my eyes and breathed a silent prayer that nothing would
be there. My prayers were answered.
There was nothing out there. As tempted as I was to just
accept this audible hallucination, my shaking hand
reached for the doorknob. The distance between my hand and
the door seemed to fade, like one of those scenes in a horror
movie where the camera zooms in while going backward.
I turned the knob and held my breath while opening the door.
Nothing was there. I released a breath I didn't
realize I was holding. Looking around.
The yard was empty, just the evening mist clinging to the
lawn. My imagination had gotten the
best of me. I turned to go back inside and
saw the door and door frame had long scratches on it.
My blood froze. It was real.
It was here. It had tracked me down as terror
gripped me. I saw a flash of brown fur an
instant before it charged me In sheer desperation.
I fell back into the door just as it hit the door frame.
Its antlers slammed into the door frame, sending splinters
flying as it struggled to get loose from the destroyed wood.
I lay on the door, watching in grim fascination, stunned by the
fact that it had missed gouging my eyes by a mere fraction of an
inch. The doorway had saved me, the
same doorway that was rapidly disappearing under the monsters
onslaught. I regained myself and ran as I
darted through the living room. Somehow I had the presence of
mind to grab the house phone and dial 911 as I headed down the
basement steps, slamming the door behind me. 911, what's your
emergency? Came the lady operator's voice.
I'm being chased by a monster who's trying to kill me, I said,
vaulting down the stairs. I'm sorry, could you repeat
that? I'm being chased by a monster
who's trying to kill me. Are you talking about a person?
No. What do you not understand about
the word monster? I shouted.
All right, it's my duty to inform you that prank calls will
be reported to the police and you could face charges.
Fine, send the cops. Maybe they can fight off the
monster long enough to put me in cuffs, the line disconnected,
son of AI said as I heard the monster stalking around inside
the house. I squeezed myself into the far
corner between the wall and the oil tank and tried to be as
quiet as possible, barley breathing.
I listened to its measured steps as it crept from room to room.
The floorboards complained, with loud creeks telling me this
thing weighed considerably more than me.
I heard it turn toward the stairs and thought about making
a run for the cellar door that led outside when my phone rang.
Hello. I whisper, screamed, trying to
be as quiet as possible. Is this the person who just
called 911 about a monster? Yes.
Who is this? There was a pause as I heard the
footsteps change direction. I'm from another agency, he
said. Could you describe the monster
for me? So you're from one of those
three letter agencies that always say they don't spy on our
phone calls. Could you describe the monster
for me? It's huge, I whispered.
At least 8 feet tall, covered in fur and wearing the fur of
another animal over its shoulders.
Oh, and it has antlers like a deer.
I heard a sharp intake of air. Where is it?
I gave him my address. I meant, where is it in the
house? It's on the 1st floor and I'm in
the basement. I whispered, but I think it's
coming down here. Just then I heard the basement
door open. Got to go, I whispered, then
hung up the phone. The basement stairs groaned
under the weight. I hoped that the wood would
collapse under the weight and it would fall, snapping its neck.
No such luck. The stairs creaked as it
continued to the bottom. I had to duck in this basement,
so I was sure it was on all fours to keep from getting
tangled in the rafters. My heart pounded.
I struggled to keep my breathing quiet so I wouldn't give away my
position. The chuffing of the monsters
breathing was getting closer. I wanted to close my eyes, but
had to know when it came close enough.
Instead, I reached into my pocket and pulled out the gun,
aiming it at the corner. I waited.
The skeletal snout appeared, but I didn't shoot.
The shot would just bounce off of bone.
I wanted to hit something more vital and hope that I might
somehow survive. The rest of the Bony skull made
its appearance and went by without noticing me.
Next came the neck and the rest of the body.
I wasn't sure where this thing's vital organs were, so I held
off, hoping that it might not notice me at all.
Those hopes were dashed when it sniffed, then whipped around and
stared right at me. I took that as a sign to shoot
it in the chest. The gunshot was deafening,
especially in such a closed space.
My ears were ringing so loud I could barely hear the monster
screaming and tearing my oil tank limb from limb, trying to
get to me. I fired again, trying to hit any
part of its body as oil flew from it, thrashing around.
We were both covered in heating oil, and yet it still kept
coming. Three more shots didn't even
slow it down. It was so close, the muzzle of
the gun was nearly touching it. I shoved the barrel in one of
its eye sockets and pulled the trigger.
The flame from the exploding gunpowder set the oil on fire.
I don't know if it was that, or the bullet bouncing around in
its skull that made it shriek even louder.
Flame engulfed its screaming form, making it look like a
demon straight from hell. It ran out of the basement,
through the outside doors, bursting out into the open air
and disappearing into the night. I was so relieved I didn't
notice right away that I was on fire.
The oil that had splashed on me had ignited when the monster
caught fire. I tried to push my way out
quickly, but the monster had shoved the tank closer to the
wall, pinning me. The fire devoured the oil on my
clothes and my bare skin, making me scream in agony as I tried in
vain to get away from the fire. This was it.
I would die, this horrible, agonizing death, trapped in an
inferno. The monster would get its
revenge and not even know it. Maybe once it extinguished its
own fire, it would come back and devour what was left of me like
a well done steak. I must have been hallucinating.
I could have sworn a cloud enveloped me just before I died.
I woke in a white room with an annoying beeping sound that
wouldn't stop. There was a smiling face sitting
in the corner, staring back at me, attached to a man I'd never
met. How are you feeling?
He said, stepping over to the hospital bed.
Am I dead? I rasped.
Not yet, He chuckled. It was close, though.
If we hadn't gotten to you when we did, you would have been a
shish kabob. I tried to lean up, but the pain
put me back in bed. Yeah, you're not going to be
taking any hiking trips for a while, he said.
You've got burns all over your legs that'll need some time to
heal. I'm never going hiking again, I
said. Are you the guy I talked to on
the phone? Yeah.
Do you mind telling me the rest of what happened?
He said, pulling out a pen and notepad.
Sure, I said, shrugging. Since you saved my life, it's
the least I could do. He pulled his chair over and got
comfortable. What happened to the monster,
anyway? I said he hesitated.
It got away, didn't it? Yeah, he said, lowering his head
a little. We lost the trail after it
extinguished itself, but don't worry, we'll find it.
I didn't comment on my opinion of the competency of government
agencies out of respect for the man who saved my life, but
suffice it to say, I wouldn't be sleeping very deeply once I got
back home. Where would you like me to
start? I said.
The beginning is always a good place, hiding in plain sight.
I never paid much attention to that phrase before I started my
new job. Wanted night time security
guard, that's all, the ad said, along with a phone number.
The town I live in isn't very big, barely a dot on the map on
the way to somewhere else. But for whatever reason, we have
a museum. I have no idea how.
It's still in business. I can't recall ever seeing a
single person walk through their doors, but when I called the
number, the man who answered told me to come to this address
this evening for my interview, He seemed a little over excited
that I had answered the ad. When I asked him about the job,
he said, oh you know, the usual thing for a security guard.
I've read some pretty unusual things about security guards and
subreddits, but I'm sure those stories are made-up.
Walking up the wide stone steps built to accommodate crowds of
people was a little intimidating and creepy.
With no one for company besides the glowing lamps mounted on the
sides of the railings, the whole thing gave off a very dystopian
ghost town zombie apocalypse vibe.
I guess the stone gargoyles staring down at me didn't help
much. I gazed into their eyes, half
expecting them to jump down and carry me off to be sacrificed to
Gozer. If I hadn't already discussed my
hourly wage, I would have turned and high tailed at home.
But the wage was more than acceptable for a security guard.
It was downright generous. I was wondering why he would pay
so much, but walking up those desolate stairs gave me a clue.
Nobody wanted to go near this place.
The word haunted had been mentioned more than once.
Looking up at the front of the building, the sporadic lights
made shadows fall all around and gave it an intimidating
presence. I paused at the top of the
stairs, thinking about every horror movie I've ever seen.
There's always that one moment where the characters could turn
back and live another day, but they never do.
The wind whipped up, blowing against me, threatening to push
me back down the stairs, almost as if warning me not to go
inside. For a moment I considered
heeding the warning and climbing back down the stairs knowing
that my rent and car payment were due made me re evaluate
that decision. I stepped up and opened the
door, wondering if I would ever come out fully expecting the
door to creak on its hinges. I was pleasantly surprised when
it opened silently and with little effort, despite feeling
quite heavy. The ornate decorations and
beautiful decor took my breath away.
I wasn't sure what I expected, but I found myself regretting
that this was the first time I had ever visited this museum.
I hadn't made it 2 steps until an elegantly dressed man
appeared and smiled at me. He didn't so much as walk up to
me. Rather, he glided, showing an
air of dignity bordering on royalty.
Mr. Welton, I presume? He said, wearing a warm smile.
Yes, Sir, I said, offering my hand.
He glanced at it with an amused look.
Right then, follow me and I'll show you your duties, he said,
turning on his heels and gliding away.
I pretended to smooth my hair as I followed, feeling like an
idiot for offering my hand. He glided past several works of
art toward a small desk. Right then, he said.
You'll be in charge of checking the door, so nothing gets in.
He paused. Or out.
You mean stolen? I said.
Yes, he said slowly. Stolen.
So I got the job. He stared at me blankly.
Did you show up? I nodded.
You got the job. Do I need a uniform or anything?
Let's see how your first night goes, he said.
There's a set of rules on the paper on your desk.
Please adhere to them. You must do at least one round
per night through every room and check every door.
One round. That's it.
This place is rather large and challenging.
I looked around with a hint of hesitation.
Maybe there was a reason why it paid so much.
He smiled. If you have any problems, just
call the number on the paper. That's it.
I believe so. I'll lock the door on my way out
and unlock it again at 9:00. On my way back in, I stepped
over to the desk and began reading the paper.
What does this mean? I said, turning around.
But he was gone. Hello.
I called, but only my voice echoed back to me.
I looked at the puzzling paper again and read the rules.
Rule #1 There are no rules. Rule #2, there are no rules.
What is this Fight Club? I said to myself, Every time you
break a rule, return to rule number one.
Wait a minute. How can I break a rule when
there are no rules? Rule #3 How you follow the rules
is as important as why you follow the rules.
That made no sense at all. Rule #4.
If you are caught breaking the rules, the penalties may be
severe. OK, there's something wrong
here. This is just talking in circles.
I read back over the rules and they looked strange.
More than just the strangeness of the rules.
Non rules themselves. It was the way they were
written. I went back and looked at each
letter. Then I paid attention to the
letters that were capitalized. It looked like some hidden
message. They're watching.
I hesitated. Who's watching?
I decided to keep reading, in hopes that this would begin to
make some sense. Rule #5 Do not, under any
circumstances, make noise every time you do a round.
Message received. Don't move.
I stood there immobile, wondering how long I was meant
to play this game and if someone would come by and tag me to
unfreeze me and allow me to start my round.
As I waited, chuckling to myself at the ludicrousness of this
insane game of freeze tag, I felt the air grow cold.
Clouds chugged out of my mouth like an old steam train as I
fought the urge to rub my arms. A chill that had little to do
with the sudden temperature drop ran down my spine as I felt a
presence in the room. It crept up behind me, silent as
the grave. I could feel it's hot breath
wash over me as it sniffed. Instead of enjoying the sudden
warmth, my temperature plummeted.
My heart hammered in my chest. It was all I could do to keep
from running away in sheer terror as it passed by.
I was overwhelmed by the stench of death.
This thing was every nightmare I've ever had personified.
I refuse to open my eyes and see it's hideous form for fear of
passing out. Instead, I focused on imitating
a statue, which was nearly impossible with my freezing
body. Aching to shiver in frozen
dread. The nameless terror passed to
the far side of the room, taking some of the cold with it.
And then, as suddenly as it came, it was gone.
The room returned to normal temperature, but I waited a few
moments before moving just to be sure.
Once I felt it was safe, I nearly collapsed to the floor in
relief. After giving myself a moment to
recover, I glanced at the paper with a new found fear.
Was this a harbinger of doom or a warning label meant to keep me
safe? Unsure if I wanted to read the
rest, I took a moment to re evaluate my current career
choice. Could I just walk out and say I
quit? After a brief internal debate, I
decided it wasn't worth the money.
If I was about to be dragged through a portal to hell just a
short time ago, I would have considered that thought
laughably ludicrous. But it was seeming more
plausible by the moment. I started toward the exit door,
with every intention of calling and telling my boss I wouldn't
be finishing the shift. Unfortunately, the door had
other plans. When I pushed on the crash bar,
nothing happened. I tried turning the deadbolt,
but it refused to move. After a few minutes of futility,
I gave up, frustrated and determined to just sit in this
room until morning came around. Sitting at the desk, I spun
around in the chair, waiting for the next 9 hours and 13 minutes
to pass. Quickly. 5 minutes later, out of
sheer boredom, I glanced at the paper.
Rule number six. You can't just sit at the desk
and wait for the door to open at the end of your shift.
Suck it up. Are you serious?
I said in frustration. Someone thinks they're funny,
huh? Glancing back at the paper
below, Rule 6 was 3 letters. YESI backed away and got up to
do my round, if nothing else to get away from this all seeing
sheet of paper that I had grown afraid to look at.
Hesitating, I reached for the door to the room where the
nightmare had disappeared. Glancing up, I saw a slip of
paper taped to the door. It said the only way out is
through. Sighing heavily, my trembling
hand turned the knob and slowly opened the door as I closed it.
On the other side was another slip of paper.
This one said avoid eye contact and you'll be fine.
Confused by the cryptic statement, I turned and realized
what it meant. The room was full of stuffed
creatures of many shapes and sizes.
Most of them seem to be mythical in nature of the Cryptid
variety. There was a Bigfoot, Skinwalker,
Dog Man, Jersey Devil, Wendigo, and many others.
As my eyes scanned the room, I noticed movement.
It wasn't much, but it was enough.
The skinwalker turned its head just slightly to look right at
me. I quickly darted my eyes away in
fear and disbelief when the dog man turned its head to stare at
me as panic coursed through my veins.
I turned to go back through the door, remembering what the piece
of paper on both sides of the door said.
The only way out is through and avoid eye contact and you'll be
fine. I felt the last statement was
akin to saying if you hold on tight enough on a roller
coaster, you won't need the safety harness.
Aiming my eyes at the floor, I turned and started toward the
far side of the room. I hoped that all they would do
was watch. That hope was dashed.
I heard growls and footsteps from all around the room.
Hesitating, I wondered if I would need a clean pair of pants
by the time I reached the far side, That is, if I survived.
The sounds of footsteps grew louder behind me, when suddenly
there was a pair of hairy legs blocking my path.
I stopped as a low growl made the air vibrate.
Oh dear God, I whispered, knowing that my life was about
to end horribly and painfully. Fighting the urge to look up, I
sidestepped and went around the legs, hoping to pass unnoticed.
I counted my footsteps, hoping each one wouldn't be my last.
Silently praying, I continued toward the door with my eyes
aimed down, watching nothing more than my feet.
It seemed like the longest walk of my life, listening to the
mythical creatures behind me come to life and sounding every
bit like they were following me, just waiting for the right
moment to grab me and turn me into a late night snack.
It came as a surprise when I bumped my head into the far
wall, shocked not only that I had made it, but that I had
missed the door, I glanced over and found my glorious escape
route. As I opened the door, I
accidentally glanced back into the room and made eye contact
with the Wendigo. Its roar of rage is something
I'll never forget. It charged at me with blinding
speed and claws unsheathed, fangs ready to tear me to shreds
as I dove through the door in the nick of time, slamming it
behind me. The impact on the other side of
the wall made dust settle to the floor, causing me to sneeze.
I stood and saw another piece of paper taped to the door.
Whatever you do, don't make a sound, it said as I was about to
make a comment about it being too late.
A giant set of fangs flew at me from the semi darkness.
Attached to them was the biggest snake I'd ever seen or heard of.
It shook off the impact with the door as my legs took over and
sprinted for the far side of the room.
The dim lighting made it impossible to see the far door,
as well as rocks and other obstacles littering the floor as
I made my desperate dash to safety.
I swear the rock that tripped me moved into my path on its own.
Instead of a death sentence, it saved my life as the snake flew
over my prone body, having tracked me down.
Had I not tripped, its massive fangs would have gone straight
through me, not waiting around to celebrate my accidental good
fortune. I jumped up and raced toward the
door again. It was now within sight, but so
was the snake. It had recovered and was coiling
for another strike. Running around a large boulder
to make myself a harder target, I aimed for a spot 5 feet from
the door. When I was almost to the door, I
dove just as the snake passed over me, slamming into the wall
as I jumped up and opened the door, closing the door behind
me. I took a moment to catch my
breath and think about asking a lot more questions when I
interview for my next job. I tried to open my eyes, but
realized they were already open. The room was engulfed in total
darkness. Pulling out my flashlight, I
shone it around but couldn't see anything aside from the door and
the floor in front of me. There was no sign of anything in
the room, not even a ceiling. It was as if the darkness sucked
the light into itself, never to escape being robbed of sight.
I relied on hearing. Taking a long listen.
I waited to hear any growls or slithers, anything to give me a
hint of what I might have to deal with.
But there was nothing, only soul crushing silence.
Having scanned the room the best I could, I set out to find the
far door. Nothing seemed strange.
Even the echo sounded like a normal large room.
It was just devoid of light. The normalness of it terrified
me. All I could find out of place
was a slight scent of disinfectant.
I wasn't sure if that was because whatever horrible
creature that called this room its home had killed people here
and they wanted to cover the smell, or if the creature itself
had passed away, leaving some poor janitor to clean up the
mess. In either case, I was on full
alert. They say that when one of your
senses falters, the others become more acute To make up for
it. The same thing was happening
with my paranoia. I imagine shadows moving around
in the total pitch of darkness. My steps were small and slow as
my arms waved in front of me, acting as my eyes, searching for
any obstacles. It took what seemed like an
eternity to get to the far side, walking so slow.
I guess that's the price of being careful.
As I approach the wall, the flashlight and vision became
useful once again. I must have gotten off track as
I walked because the door was far off to the side.
I had to walk a good 50 feet along the wall to find it.
When I opened the door, I was greeted by a horrible sight.
The snake was coiled up in front of it.
I quickly shut the door as it prepared to strike.
Why would they have two snake rooms?
But then why? Wasn't much of A relevant
question in this place. My mind came up with a terrible
answer. It wasn't a second snake, it was
the same one. I must have gotten turned around
in the darkness and done a circle as my brain had to go
around with denial. I tried to figure out a way to
get across this room without unintentionally doubling back,
keeping in mind that even though I had yet to see or hear
anything in this room didn't mean it wasn't there.
Searching for any ideas, I looked down at my flashlight,
then squared my shoulders against the wall to regain my
bearings and tosss the flashlights straight in front of
me. It landed with a loud clatter,
then rolled around in a playful circle before coming to rest.
If there was anything in the room, most likely I just woken
it up and showed it exactly where I was.
I stood still and listened. After a few minutes, I didn't
hear any movement. It seemed safe to walk to my
flashlight, pick it up and toss it another 15 feet, hopefully in
a straight line. I did this the whole way across
the room, still listening for sounds, but becoming more
confident with each step that I wouldn't hear any.
The door was just a few feet to the side of where I'd aimed.
Somehow I'd gone in a straight line.
Grabbing the doorknob, I slowly turned it so as not to alert the
snake. If by some trick I ended up back
in that room, but there was no trick and no snake.
The door opened to a blinding light.
I covered my eyes to give them time to adjust.
Once they had acclimated, I looked around at a beautiful
room full of clouds. There were even clouds on the
floor. It was disconcerting at 1st and
almost made me lose my balance because they were so well
painted that it literally looked like I was walking on clouds.
I took a tentative step into the room, making sure that it was an
illusion and I wasn't about to fall thousands of feet to my
death. Holding my breath, I stepped on
to the first cloud and let go of the door frame.
It was firm, like a floor should be.
My second and third steps were more confident as I realized how
effective the illusion was once I acclimated.
Walking on clouds was fun. This was turning out to be the
easiest room I'd been in so far. That's when I heard the scream.
It was deafening and seemed to come from everywhere at once.
I dove to the floor only to realize there was nowhere to
hide from whatever it was. I stood out like a sore thumb
against the blue sky and fluffy white clouds painted on every
surface of the room. The scream sounded again and I
began to run, having no idea which way I was going or where
the screaming was coming from. For all I knew, I was running
toward whatever it was. I just knew it didn't sound
human and I had no desire to find out what it was.
Soon the choice was taken out of my hands.
I saw a dark spot appear against the clouds that quickly became
larger. It was almost on me when I dove
to the floor, feeling something sharp rake my back.
Pain shot through me as I reached around and found the
back of my shirt and shreds. Not only that, but my hand was
covered in blood. Whatever it was had sliced my
back open and I was bleeding. Adrenaline kicked in and I ran
faster than I ever have. The problem was I didn't know
where I was running to or what I was running from.
I was just running. I heard wings flapping and I
looked back just in time to see the largest bird of prey I've
ever seen. It looked like a golden eagle,
only the thing was massive. The wingspan was easily 20 feet.
As I was running, I turned to get a closer look at this thing
at the same time I was trying to get away from it.
My feet got tangled up and I fell backward just as the razor
sharp talons passed over mere inches away from my face.
I jumped up and started running again.
As I glanced back to find my attacker, I was met with the
strangest sight. There was a smear of blood on
the floor where I had just been lying.
It looked like someone had wiped blood on a cloud.
The wings flapped again. I knew it was close.
I had run out of luck. It would be ready for anything.
This time it's razor sharp. Talons would rip me to pieces.
There was no doubt about it. There was only one option.
I jumped and whipped around in mid air, throwing my flashlight
as hard as I could. It connected with its head that
was mere feet away. It screamed and dove off to the
side, impacting with the floor so hard I felt the vibration and
landing in a heap. I didn't stop to check on it.
The door loomed ahead of me and I pushed myself for every ounce
of speed my body could muster. Turning the knob and opening the
door in one smooth motion. I dove through and slammed it
shut, laying on the floor, breathing hard, trying to catch
my breath. I knew I was a sitting duck for
whatever monster lurked in this room.
I rolled over to get in some defensive position for whatever
was about to attack when I saw I was back in the main hall.
I had somehow survived my first, and as far as I was concerned,
last round. I stumbled my way to the
restroom in the back of my mind, wondering what kind of insanity
I would find in there. Would I have to crawl through
the mirror into another dimension to get a roll of
toilet paper? Fortunately, the restroom held.
No surprises. I took off my destroyed shirt
and ran water over it to clean up my back as best I could.
When I was done, I put some paper towels on the wound and
put my jacket on top of it. The desk and chair were where I
spent the rest of the night. Surprisingly, it had taken me
almost an hour to complete the round.
As I sat there, pondering if I could survive another night at
this job, I saw a dark spot form on the wall and detach itself,
only to float over toward me. I closed my eyes and sat
perfectly still, ignoring the sudden drop in temperature.
The stench of death surrounded me, but I refused to move.
For a moment I thought I heard a sound like sniffing, and then it
seemed to diminish once the temperature rose again.
I opened my eyes and the apparition was gone.
As bored as I was for the next few hours, I wasn't tempted to
do another round, Not even in the slightest.
When 9:00 rolled around, the boss curator appeared and glided
over to me, wearing a little grin.
I see you managed to make it through, he said.
Congratulations, You're the first one in some time.
The first one to make it through a single round.
He nodded. How many others have there been?
I said, with a haunted look in my eyes.
He shook his head. Let's not worry about that,
shall we? He said.
Here is the amount we agreed upon.
He handed me a stack of bills and I gladly took them.
Would you be interested in staying on and being my
permanent night time guard? I looked at the money inside.
As much as I'd like to, I don't see how this job could be called
permanent when the mortal danger is so real.
It is a challenge, I'll admit, however, you rose to it last
night, he said. I'm prepared to offer you twice
the amount I gave you if you agreed to stay on.
I stared at the fistful of money and imagined not having to
struggle with bills or any other expenses.
Then I turned a little, and my back painfully reminded me of
the dangers. I'd have to think about it, I
said. While you're thinking, consider
this. You have yet to see the
basement. Basement.
He nodded. It's considerably more
challenging. I'll let you know very well.
You can see yourself out. I recommend getting that back.
Tended to. With that, he vanished into thin
air right in front of my eyes. I looked at the money, wondering
if it would vanish as well. Fortunately, it remained firmly
in my grasp as I walked toward the front door.
For some reason, I felt hesitant to open it and leave.
It was as if some force was exerting itself against me, like
the museum didn't want me to go. It wasn't a pleasant feeling,
more like a dog losing its favorite toy.
I pushed the doors open and left.
This whole ordeal made me ponder my concepts of reality as well
as being terrified of the day when the things in the building
would escape. Somehow.
The big question was, did I need the money that badly?
Was I willing to put myself in mortal peril just for a few
measly dollars? I turned and looked back at the
museum in the daylight. It looked innocent.
None of the terrors that lay within showed on the outside.
As I turned to head home, I swore I saw a fleeting glimpse
of the apparition. It seemed to be following me.
I looked again and it was gone. Must have been my imagination.
I don't know when you're going to read this, but I can tell you
when it started, I was out for a walk, alone in the woods.
When the entity came for me, it was beyond a blur.
It was, for lack of a better term, absence of meaning.
Where it hid, there were no trees.
Where it crept closer, there was no grass through the ark.
It leaped at me. There was no breeze of motion.
There was no air at all. As it struck, I felt the
distinct sensation of claws puncturing me somewhere unseen,
somewhere I'd never felt before. My hands and arms and legs and
torso seemed fine, and I wasn't bleeding, but I knew I'd been
injured somehow. As I fearfully ran back home, I
could tell that I was less I was vaguely tired and it was hard to
focus at times. The solution at that early stage
was easy. A big cup of coffee helped me
feel normal again for a while. That subtle drain on my spirit
became lost in the ebb and flow of caffeine in my system.
You could say my life began that week, actually, because that was
when I met Mar. She and I got along great,
though to be honest, I'm pretty sure I fell in love with her
over the phone before we even met.
It was almost as if the strong emotions of that first week made
the entity fight back. It was still with me, latched
onto some invisible part of my being.
The first few incidents were minor and I hardly worried about
them. The color of a neighbor's car
changed from dark blue to black one morning, and I stared at it
before shaking my head and shrugging off the difference.
Two days later, at work, a Co worker's name changed from Fred
to Dan. I carefully asked around, but
everyone said his name had always been Dan.
I figured I'd just been mistaken.
Then, as ridiculous as this sounds, I was peeing in my
bathroom at home when I suddenly found myself on a random street.
I was still in my pajamas, pants down, but now in full view of a
dozen people at a bus stop. Horrified, I pulled up my
clothes and ran before someone called the cops.
I did manage to get home, but the experience forced me to
admit that I was still in danger.
The entity was doing something to me, and I didn't understand
how to fight back. Mars showed up that evening, but
she had her own key. Hey.
I asked her with confusion. How'd you get a key?
She just laughed. You're cute.
Are you sure you're OK with this?
She opened a door and entered a room full of boxes.
I know living together is a big step, especially when we've only
been dating three months living together.
I'd literally just met her the week before.
The thing was, my mother had always called me a smart cookie
for a reason. I knew when to shut my yap
instead of causing a scene. I told her everything was fine
and then I went straight to my room and began investigating.
My things were just as I had left them, with no sign of a
three month gap in habitation. But I did find something out of
the ordinary, the date. I shivered angrily as I
processed the truth. The entity had eaten three
months of my life. What the hell was I facing?
What kind of creature could consume pieces of one's soul
like that? I'd miss the most exciting part
of a new relationship, and I would never understand any
shared stories or in jokes from that period.
Something absurdly precious had been taken from me, and I was
furious. That fury helps suppress the
entity. I never imbibed alcohol.
I drank coffee religiously. I checked the date every time I
woke up. For three years, I managed to
live each day while observing nothing more than minor
alterations. A social fact here and there.
Someone's job, how many kids they had, that sort of thing.
The layout of nearby streets, the time my favorite television
show aired. That kind of thing.
Always, those changes reminded me.
The creature still had its claws sunk into my spirit.
Not once in three years did I ever let myself zone out.
One day I grew careless. I let myself get really into the
season finale of my favorite show.
It was gripping, a fantastic story.
Right at the height of the action, a young boy came up to
my lounger and shook my arm. Surprised, I asked, Who are you?
How did you get in here? He laughed and smiled brightly.
Silly Daddy. My heart sank in my chest.
I knew immediately what had happened.
After a few masked questions, I discovered that he was two years
old and that he was my son. The agony and heartache filling
my chest was nearly unbearable. Not only had I missed the birth
of my son, I would never see or know the first years of his
life. Mar and I had obviously gotten
married and started a family in the time I'd lost, and I had no
idea what joys or pains those years contained.
It was snowing outside, holding my sudden sun in my lap.
I sat and watched the flakes fall outside.
What kind of life was this going to be?
If slips in concentration could cost me years, I had to get
help. The church had no idea what to
do. The priest didn't believe me and
told me I had a health issue rather than some sort of
possession. The doctors didn't have any
clue. Nothing showed up on all their
scans and tests, but they happily took my money in return
for nothing. By the time I ran out of
options, I decided to tell Mar. There was no way to know what
this all looked like from her side.
What was I like when I wasn't there?
Did I still take our son to school?
Did I still do my job? Clearly I did, because she
seemed to be none the wiser. But I still had a horrible
feeling that something must have been missing in her life when I
wasn't actually home inside my own head.
But the night I set up a nice dinner in preparation, she
arrived not by unlocking the front door, but by knocking on
it. I answered and found that she
was in a nice dress. She was happily surprised by the
settings on the table. A fancy dinner for a second
date. I knew you were sweet on me,
thank the Lord. I knew when to keep my mouth
shut. If I'd gone on about being
married and having a son, she might have run for the hills.
Instead, I took her coat and sat down for our second date.
Through carefully crafted questions, I managed to deduce
the truth. This really was our second date.
She saw relief and happiness in me, but interpreted that as
dating jitters. I was just excited to realize
that the entity wasn't necessarily eating whole
portions of my life. The symptoms, as I was beginning
to understand them, were more like the consequences of a
shattered soul. The creature had wounded me,
broken me into pieces. Perhaps I was to live my life
out of order, but at least I would actually get to live it.
And so it went for a few years. From my perspective, while minor
changes in politics or geography would happen daily, major shifts
in my mental location only happened every couple of months.
When I found myself in a new place and time in my life, I
just shut up and listened, making sure to get the lay of
the land before doing anything to avoid making mistakes on the
farthest flung leap yet. I met my 6 year old grandson and
I asked him what he wanted to be when he grew up.
He said writer. I told him that was a fine idea.
Then I was back in month two of my relationship with Mar and I
had the best night with her on the riverfront.
When I say the best, I mean the best.
Knowing how special she would become to me, I asked her to
move in. I got to live through what I'd
missed the first go around, and I came to understand that I was
never mentally absent. I would always be there.
Eventually, when we were moving her boxes in, she stopped for a
moment and said she marveled at my great love, as if I'd known
her for a lifetime and never once doubted she was the one.
That was the first time I truly laughed freely and
wholeheartedly since the entity had wounded me.
She was right about my love for her, but for exactly the reason
she'd considered a silly romantic analogy.
I had known her my whole life, and I'd come to terms with my
situation and found peace with it.
It wasn't so bad to have sneak peeks at all the best parts
ahead, but of course I wouldn't be writing this if it hadn't
gotten worse. The entity was still with me.
It had not wounded me and departed like I'd wanted to
believe. The closest I can describe.
My growing understanding was that the creature was burrowing
deeper into my psyche, fracturing it into smaller
pieces. Instead of months between major
shifts, I began having only weeks.
Once I noticed that trend, I feared my ultimate fate would be
to jump between times in my life.
Heartbeat by heartbeat, forever confused, forever lost.
Only an instant in each time meant I would never be able to
speak with anyone else, never be able to hold a conversation,
never express or receive love. As the true depth of that fear
came upon me, I sat in an older version of myself and watched
the snow falling outside that was the one constant in my life.
The weather didn't care who I was or what pains I had to face.
Nature was always there. The falling snow was always like
a little hook that kept me in a place.
The pure emotional peace it brought was like a panacea on my
mental wounds, and I'd never yet shifted while watching the
pattern of falling white and thinking of the times I'd gone
sledding or built a snow Fort as a child.
A teenager touched my arm. Grandpa A.
He'd startled me out of my thoughts, so I was less careful
than usual. Who are you?
He half grinned, as if not sure whether I was joking, handing me
a stack of papers. He said.
It's my first attempt at a novel.
Would you read it and tell me what you think?
Of course, pursuing that dream of being a writer, I see he
burned bright red trying to Anyway.
All right, run off, I'll read this right now.
The words were blurry and annoyed.
I looked for glasses I probably had for reading.
Being old was terrible, and I wanted to leap back into a
younger year, but not before I read his book.
I found my glasses in a sweater pocket and began leafing
through. Mar puttered in and out of the
living room, still beautiful, but I had to focus.
I didn't know how much time I would have there.
It seemed that we had relatives over.
Was it Christmas? A pair of adults and a couple of
kids I didn't recognize tromped through the hallway, and I saw
my son, now an adult, walk by with his wife on the way out the
door as a group. The extended family began
sledding outside. Finally, I finished reading the
story, and I called out for my grandson.
He rushed down the stairs and into the living room.
How was it? Well, it's terrible, I told him
truthfully. But it's terrible for all the
right reasons. You're still a young man, so
your characters behave like young people, but the structure
of the story itself is very solid.
I paused. I didn't expect it to turn out
to be a Horror Story. He nodded.
It's a reflection of the times. Expectations for the future are
dismal. Not hopeful like they used to
be. You're far too young to be aware
like that, I told him. An idea occurred to me.
If you're into horror, do you know anything about strange
creatures? Sure.
I read everything I can. I love it.
Warily, I scan the entrances to the living room.
Everyone was busy outside for the first time.
I opened up to someone in my life about what I was
experiencing. In hushed tones.
I told him about my fragmented consciousness.
For a teenager. He took it Well.
You're serious. Yes.
He donned the determined look of a grown man accepting a quest.
I'll look into it, see what I can find out.
You should start writing down everything you experience.
Build some data. Maybe we can map your psychic
wound. Wow.
Sounds like a plan. I was surprised.
That made sense, and I hadn't expected him to have a serious
response. But how will I get all the notes
in one place? Let's come up with somewhere for
you to leave them, he said, frowning with thought.
Then I'll get them and we can trace the path you're taking
through your own life. See if there's a pattern.
For the first time since the situation had gotten worse, I
felt hope again. How about under the stairs?
Nobody ever goes under there. Sure, He turned and left the
living room. I peered after him.
I heard him banging around near the stairs.
Finally, he returned with a box, laid it on the carpet, and
opened it to reveal a bursting stack of papers.
He exclaimed. Holy crap.
But of course, being a teenager, he didn't really say crap.
Taken aback, I blinked rapidly forgiving his cussing because of
the shock. Did I write those?
He looked up at me with wonder. Yeah, or you will.
You still have to write them and put them under the stairs.
After this, he gazed back down at the papers, then covered the
box. So you probably shouldn't see
what they say. That could get weird, that much
I understood, right? He gulped.
There are like 50 boxes under there, all filled up like this.
Deciphering these will take a very long time.
His tone dropped to deadly seriousness.
But I will save you, Grandpa, because I don't think anyone
else can. Tears flowed down my cheeks
then, and I couldn't help but sob once or twice.
I hadn't realized how lonely I'd become in my shifting prison of
awareness until I finally had someone who understood.
Thank you. Thank you so much.
And then I was young again and at work on a random Tuesday once
the sadness and relief faded. Anger and determination replaced
them. After I finished my work, I
grabbed some paper and began writing while the weeks shifted
around me. While those weeks became days
and then hours, I wrote every single spare moment about when
and where I thought I was. I put them under the stairs out
of order. My first box was actually the
30th, and my last box was the first.
Once I had over 50 boxes written from my perspective, and once my
shifting became a matter of minutes, I knew it was up to my
grandson to take it from there. I put my head down and stopped
looking. I couldn't stand the river of
changing awareness any longer. Names and places and dates and
jobs and colors and people were all wrong and different.
I'd never been older. I sat watching the snowfall.
A man of at least 30, whom I vaguely recognized, entered the
room. Come on.
I think I finally figured it out.
I was so frail that moving was painful.
Are you him? Are you my grandson?
Yes. He took me to a room filled with
strange equipment and sat me in a rubber chair, facing a large
mirror, twice the height of a man.
The pattern finally revealed itself.
How long have you worked on this?
I asked him, aghast. Tell me you didn't miss your
life like I'm missing mine. His expression was both stone
cold and furiously resolute. It'll be worth it.
He brought two thin metal rods close to my arm and then nodded
at the mirror. Look, this shock is carefully
calibrated. The electric ZAP from his device
was startling but not painful. In the mirror I saw a rapid
arcing light silhouette appear above my head and shoulder.
The electricity moved through the creature like a wave,
briefly revealing the terrible nature of what was happening to
me. A bulging Leech like mouth was
wrapped around the back of my head, coming down to my eyebrows
and touching each ear and it's slug like body ran over my
shoulder and into my very soul. It was a parasite and it was
feeding on my mind. My now adult grandson held my
hand as I took in the horror. After a moment he asked.
Removing it is going to hurt very badly.
Are you up for this Fearful? I asked.
Is Mar here? His face softened.
No, not for a few years now. I could tell from his reaction
what had happened, but I didn't want it to be true.
How? We have this conversation a lot,
he responded. Are you sure you want to know?
It never makes you feel better? Tears brimmed in my eyes.
Then I don't care if it hurts or if I die.
I don't want to stay in a time where she's not alive.
He made a sympathetic noise of understanding and then returned
to his machines to hook several wires, diodes, and other bits of
technology to my limbs and forehead.
While he did so, he talked. I've worked for two decades to
figure this out, and I've had a ton of help from other
researchers of the occult. This parasite doesn't
technically exist in our plane. It's one of the lesser spawns of
Zen, and it feeds on the plexus of mind, soul, and quantum
consciousness reality. When details like names and
colors of objects changed, you weren't going crazy.
The web of your existence was merely losing strands as the
creature ate its way through you.
I didn't fully understand. I looked up in confusion as he
placed a circle of electronics like a crown on my head, in
exact line with where the Parasites Mouth had ringed me.
What's Zen? He paused his work and grew
pale. I forgot that you wouldn't know.
You're lucky, believe me. After a deep breath, he began
moving again and placed his fingers near a few switches.
Ready. This is carefully tuned to make
your nervous system extremely unappetizing to the parasite,
but it's basically electroshock therapy.
I could still see Mars smile, even though she was dead.
I'd just been with her moments ago.
Do it. The click of a switch echoed in
my ears, and I almost laughed at how mild the electricity was.
It didn't feel like anything, at least at first.
Then I saw the mirror shaking and my body within that image
convulsing. Oh no, it did hurt.
Nothing had ever been more painful.
It was just so excruciating that my mind hadn't been able to
immediately process it. As my vision shook and the fire
burned in every nerve in my body, I could see the reflected,
trembling, light silhouette of the parasite on my head as it
writhed in agony equal to mine. It had claws, 6 clawed lizard
like limbs under its Leech like body and it cut into me in an
attempt to stay latched on. The electricity made my memories
flare. Mars Smile was foremost lit
brightly in front of a warm fire.
As the snow fell past the window behind her, the edges of that
memory began lighting up and I realized that my life was 1
continuous stretch of experience.
It was only the awareness of it that had been fragmented by that
feasting evil on my back, I'd never managed to be there for
the birth of my son. I jumped around it a dozen
times, but never actually lived it.
For the first time I got to hold Mars hand and be there for her.
No, no. That moment had shifted
seamlessly into holding her hand as she lay in a hospital bed for
a very different reason. Not this.
God, why it was so merciless to make me remember this.
I broke down in tears as nurses rushed into the room.
I didn't want to know. I didn't want to experience it.
I'd seen all the good parts, but I hadn't wanted the worst part,
the inevitable end that all would one day face.
It wasn't worth it. It was tainted.
All that joy was given back 10,000 fold as pain.
The fire in my body and in my brain surged to sheer white
torture and I screamed. My scream faded into a surprised
shout as the machines and electricity and chair faded
away. Snow was no longer falling
around my life. I was out in the woods on a
bright summer day. Oh God.
I turned to see the creature approaching me.
It was the same absence of meaning, the same blank on
reality. It crept forward, just like
before, but this time it hissed and turned away.
I stood astounded at being young again and freed from the
parasite. My grandson had actually done
it. He'd made me an unappetizing
meal, so the predator of mind and soul had moved on in search
of a different snack. I returned home in a daze, and
while I was sitting there processing all that had
happened, the phone rang. I looked at it in awe and
sadness. I knew who it was.
It was Marjorie calling for the first time.
For some trivial reason, she'd admit, 30 years later, was
made-up just to talk to me. But all I could see was her
lying in that hospital bed, dying.
It was going to end in unspeakable pain and loneliness.
I would become an old man, left to sit by myself in an empty
house, his soul mate gone long before him.
At the end of it all, the only thing I would have left sitting
and watching the falling snow. But now, thanks to my grandson,
I would also have my memories. It would be a wild ride no
matter how it ended. On a sudden impulse, I picked up
the phone with a smile. I asked, Hey, who's this?
Even though I already knew.