#horrorseptics

[crystalninjaphoenix]

How They Consume

A Horror Septic Story

(I can't believe It's been seven months since I last wrote this story. Well, the horror urge strikes me when the horror urge strikes me. And I guess it just hadn't struck me in a while. But it's back! This is a shorter story for this series, which means it's still longer than my usual chapters cause that's how chapters in horrorseptics work out. Stacy is unsure what to do, but the thing haunting her, apparently called Misery, urges her to go back to the house to see John. Or, maybe to see the thing haunting John? It's unclear, but maybe it will help...)

—————

“wake up.”

Stacy groaned and opened her eyes. There was a face inches from her own, but it disappeared the moment she saw it. But she could still feel a weight shifting on the mattress.

It was early in the morning. Early enough that only the faintest, grayest sunlight came from the gap in the curtains blocking the hotel room’s window. She rolled over to look at the clock. It was 5:30 am. “God... damn it,” she muttered, burying her face in the pillow. The whole night had been like this. At this point, she was too exhausted to be scared.

“wake up.” Something poked her shoulder. “wake up.”

“Leave me alone,” she muttered, voice muffled by the pillow.

“wake up.”

“Why’re you doing this?” she asked, squeezing her eyes shut. Tears pricked at the corners.

“we have things to do today.”

Things to do? What could it possibly be talking about? 

The hotel door opened. Stacy lifted her head up—and only now realized that Mark’s bed was empty. Because Mark was walking into the room right now. He saw her looking at him and froze. “Sorry,” he whispered.

“The hell are you doing up?” Stacy muttered.

“I always get up this early,” Mark said, slowly closing the door behind him. “Don’t worry about it. Just go back to sleep.”

“I can’t.” Stacy sat up, rubbing her eyes. “It won’t let me rest.”

Mark’s eyes flicked over her shoulder. “I, uh... I see. Sorry about that, then.” He walked over to the side of the hotel room, where there was a small kitchen area with a microwave, mini fridge, and coffee maker. He set a white paper bag down on the counter. “Well. I got donuts. Maybe that’ll help.”

“Maybe.” Stacy pushed the blankets away and looked around. She hadn’t really been able to take in the details of the hotel room when they arrived last night. Her thoughts had been whirling, circling with worry. These creatures... what did they have planned for her? What did they have planned for John? They wanted to take down the thing that had claimed him, and she had no doubt that they wouldn’t hesitate if John was dragged down with it. Was there anything she could do to keep John from being caught in the crossfire?

She didn’t know. She just didn’t know.

But... she had to try, didn’t she?

She felt a presence behind her, like someone leaning forward. “we have things to do,” a whisper said.

“What?! What do we have to do?!” Stacy demanded, twisting around to look at it—though of course, it disappeared when she saw it.

“go back there,” it whispered.

“Back... huh?” Stacy blinked. “You mean... talk to John again?”

Mark looked over at her. “You want to talk to that thing?”

“That ‘thing’ is my friend!” Stacy snapped. “He’s being controlled by something! Something that’s been haunting him and hunting him for years! It’s not too different from what’s happened to you, is it?!”

Mark flinched. “Alright, that’s fair. I... I understand. It’s just... you’ve been through a lot, you know. And... I’ll be honest, that guy...” He shook his head. “I don’t know. There’s something about him. Something... uncanny.” He paused. “I can’t help but think I know him... but I know I don’t. I... I would remember a guy like that.”

“You would think that, wouldn’t you?” Stacy muttered. “But... I have a theory.” She stood up and walked over to the small kitchen area, taking a glazed donut out of the bag Mark brought. “I think... I think a part of his haunting is that people forget him.”

“Hmm.” Mark blinked. “I remember what your friend looks like, though.”

“Y-yeah, I do too, but... it’s not like that.” Stacy shook her head. “I think that after he leaves, if you see him again, you won’t remember that he’s that guy you met before. You think he’s someone new. I-I know something like that has happened to me before, but I remembered once he told me to call him John. Maybe... maybe because of this thing?” She gestured over her shoulder, knowing that Misery was right behind her as always. “Maybe because of my encounters with it and its friends? I-I don’t know for sure, but I... I really do think that’s how it, uh, works.”

Mark tilted his head to the side thoughtfully. “I’ve uh... I’ve never encountered something like that. But it’s totally possible. Weird, though. Why would something want to do that to him?”

Stacy blinked. “I dunno. I don’t really think about what these things want.”

“Well if they can think, of course they want something,” Mark said. “It’s just... usually bad stuff.”

Stacy frowned. Last night, at the coffee place, that thing in the red hood—Sangria—told her that Misery loves company, living or dead. So... is that what Misery wanted? People to... have around? Then what did the rest of them want? Did their goals align? Is that why they were helping it get him? 

Well, she knew they were all opposed to that glitchy thing, at least.

“did you hear me?” came the whisper. “go back there.”

Stacy shook her shoulder, dislodging the hand there. “Yeah, I heard you,” she muttered. “I have to get ready for the day and stuff. Then I’ll go back to those guys’ house.”

“Whoa, wait, hold on, we got distracted.” Mark shook his head. “You don’t have to go there just because it’s telling you to.”

“No, I... I think there’s some, uh, good to be done... with that,” Stacy said slowly. “I want to help, but I can’t help by staying away from him all the time. I have to confront the problem. I can’t keep running away.” Even though part of her felt sick with fear to think about seeing her friend like that again. She wouldn’t leave him like this. Not after everything.

Mark stared at her, then nodded slowly. “Alright. I’ll drive you over there.”

“Great.” Stacy took a bite out of her donut, chewing and swallowing quickly. “Let’s get ready fast. I think this thing is gonna get impatient.”

* * * * * * * * * *

“Uh... are you sure?” The four young people stared at her, clear disbelief written on their features. “I mean... didn’t it try to attack you last time you went in there?” Michael continued.

“It definitely bit you, at least,” Rya muttered. “H-how is that, by the way?”

Stacy looked down at her arms. The bite from yesterday was wrapped in bandages. She couldn’t remember when that happened. Not specifically, at least, she vaguely recalled Mark mentioning that he brought medical supplies. He must’ve wrapped it up, but that memory wasn’t clear. “It’s fine,” she said.

“What if there was some—something in the bite, though?” Diane fretted.

“No, I-I don’t think so,” Stacy said. “Maybe. No more than what’s usually in a person’s mouth.” 

“Anyway, back to the point,” Leo said. “Are you sure?”

“I’m very sure,” Stacy said. “I... I need to know what’s going on. Knowledge is the best weapon in this situation. And... this is the only way to get it, I think.”

The four of them exchanged uneasy looks.

“Look, I know that you’re worried,” Stacy said. “And I really appreciate your concern. After all, you barely know me. It would be so easy for you to say ‘who cares?’ and let me do whatever as long as it didn’t hurt you guys. But you care.”

“We just don’t want people to get hurt,” Michael said, fidgeting with the end of his ponytail.

“Yeah, and you all have done a lot to protect people no matter what,” Stacy said. “And you haven’t... I know you’ve all been through a lot, but you haven’t let it... You haven’t forgotten how to care, you haven’t grown callous. You’ve held onto that. And I think that’s very impressive, and very needed.”

“Well, uh, thank you, Miss Stacy,” Diane stammered. “We’re flattered, but... what’s this have to do with you wanting to talk to that creature?”

“He’s not a creature, he’s a human who’s possessed or something,” Stacy corrected. “And my point is, it’s good that you care, but you have to trust me on this. I know what I’m doing, I’m more prepared than last time, I can take care of myself.” She glanced behind her, where Mark was hovering silently. “Same goes for you, too. I know you’ve dealt with this sort of stuff the most out of any of us, but I have to do this myself. I don’t know how he’ll react to more people being there.”

Mark looked at her. He was clearly reluctant, but if he was going to stop her, he could have just refused to drive her back here. He nodded. “Be careful. Keep that gun close.”

“Don’t worry, I will.” Stacy patted her shoulder holster beneath her jacket.

“Why do you have that, by the way?” Leo asked. “Is it to fight the monsters?”

“No, I... I had it before all this,” Stacy said. “For safety. I was moving somewhere new, and I was... very, very nervous... A-anyway.”

“Weren’t you moving to England?” Mark wondered out loud. “Isn’t that illegal over there? How did you—”

“Anyway!” Stacy said again. “Can I go see him now?”

Again, the four exchanged looks. Then, Leo nodded. “Yeah. C’mon. We’ll all wait outside.”

They took her and Mark back down the stairs into the basement, where they all nervously circled around the closed door. Diane unlocked it quickly before backing up, and Stacy stepped forward and grabbed the doorknob. She looked back at the others. “Stay out of sight,” she said. They all nodded and backed up the stairs. She nodded, then took a deep breath and faced forward again. And... she opened the door.

The room beyond was dark. Until she stepped forward. The second her foot landed on the carpet on the other side of the door, the lightbulbs in the ceiling turned on. She glanced up at them as they flickered repeatedly, waiting for them to stop. They didn’t. She felt a hand on her shoulder. “be careful,” something whispered in her ear.

She swallowed a lump in her throat and started walking forward. The carpet... crunched under her feet. She glances down. There were tiny metallic objects on the ground, slipped between the fibers of the carpet. Where did those come from? Other than them, the room was unchanged. How... strange.

She kept walking forward.

He was right where she’d last seen him. Slumped on the ground next to the washing machine, ropes binding his arms and legs, and one more wrapped around his neck, tethering him to a pipe. That one green eye was still open, staring at her from between strands of hair. She stopped walking. Making sure she was well out of his reach. “H-hi again, John.”

He lifted his head to look at her, his other eye opening. A normal blue eye, one that was now bloodshot and tired. “...why did you come back here?” He whispered. “Y-you should’ve run.”

“I wasn’t going to leave you,” Stacy said, crouching down to the ground. Now that she was closer, she could see that the metal objects on the ground were tiny chips. Microchips, so many of them that it reminded her of wood chips covering the area around a playground. 

John laughed. “Y-you should. I... I can... h-handle this myself. I don’t want... you o-or the kids to be...”

“Yeah, well, we don’t want you to suffer, either,” Stacy said.

John suddenly jerked upwards, leaning forward to the limit of the rope. Both his eyes were wide. “The kids,” he said in a hoarse voice. “Th-they’re not—not here, are they?”

Stacy leaned back. “No, they’re not. They’re somewhere safe. I talked to them last night, though, a-and they’re okay.” Though she didn’t remember much of the previous night after the coffee shop, she remembered her call to them clearly. Mathew did most of the talking, saying that everyone was fine. Larkin asked if she was coming back soon. She didn’t know.

He let out a breath of relief. “Good.” His blue eye was tearing up. His green one... was not. It stated at her. Calmly.

“How are you, John?” Stacy whispered.

“How—?” John burst into laughter. Shrieks and peals that sounded like him at first, but as he continued laughing, laughing, laughing, without taking a breath, it stopped sounding like him. It stopped sounding like a living thing at all. Stacy shivered at the artificial-sounding noises. It was like a computer was dying. But soon, they faded, taken over by a rough, choking cough. John bent over, again straining the rope, and coughed for a solid minute. He stopped just as she was starting to wonder if she should do something, and looked up at her. “How do you think?” He asked, voice even scratchier than it was before.

“Not good,” Stacy said plainly.

“Yeah n-no shit.” John leaned backwards again. 

“But I mean... besides the obvious,” Stacy explained. “I-I don’t think these guys were feeding you or anything. Do you... need anything?”

John thought about that. “I... think... I don’t,” he whispered. “I feel hungry. And thirsty. But I’ve been stuck here for longer than three days, and they haven’t given me water. I think... it’s keeping me alive.”

Something squeezed Stacy’s shoulder. She jumped slightly. And she wondered—would this thing, this Misery, do the same for her? Or would it not mind if she died? 

“I know what you’re thiiiinkiiiing.”

Stacy went pale. “Wh-what?”

“It’s on your face,” John whispered. “Do you think it will save you?” He giggled. “It won’t. It says it cares. But it doesn’t. It’s a pretender. I never liked those.”

She fell back, landing on her rear. It was suddenly clear that this wasn’t John talking to her. When had it stopped being him? Before the singsong taunt a few seconds ago—but had it been John at all before that? Or had it always been this one, staring at her with that green, bleeding eye and grinning? 

“Scared?” It asked in John’s voice.

Stacy swallowed a lump in her throat. She folded her legs beneath her and tried to look unworried. “What are you?”

“I am what you’re afraid of,” it said. “I am the whispers in the wires. I am the stories without an origin, the rumors without a source. And I... am... e̡ve̡r̛ywh̡e͟re͟.”

The lights switched off. Stacy couldn’t hold back a shiver. The thing laughed, and though it was John’s voice, it didn’t sound like him at all. She knew something like this would happen. She knew. But that didn’t stop the dread that crept down her spine and pooled in her stomach.

She could see the green eye in the darkness. It didn’t glow, there was no reason she should have been able to see it, but she could see it as it stared and watched her in the darkness—

“breathe.”

She inhaled sharply—and only then realized that she had stopped breathing. The thing with the green eye laughed, a sound which started where John was and then circled around her. It didn’t move. It didn’t move. It was just throwing its voice to freak her out. It—it was working, admittedly. But she wasn’t going to leave. “You—you need something to—be referred to by,” Stacy stammered. “What is it?”

“You mean a name?” It sounded amused. “Well I’m ijõħ®ţ of course.”

Stacy blinked. “Huh?”

It laughed again, and the sound came from right next to her. “That’s the problem with being everywhere. There’s too much of me for you to know, even if I wanted you to.”

That made her head spin. She shook it off. There was a hand on her shoulder. For once, it felt... reassuring. A solid weight to hold onto. “What do you want with John?” she asked.

“Should I tell you? Should I? Are you suuuure?” It laughed again, the sound now coming from her other side. “Oh, you know, I think I will. It will tear into your heart to know, and his, too.”

Stacy felt a twist in her stomach. She didn’t say anything.

The green eye blinked. “I’m going to hollow him out.” 

Another appeared in the darkness. “I’m going to wear down his insides until he doesn’t exist anymore. And then I’m going to take the rest and make it something new. Something fun. Something m̴͞é͠.̵̡ Just like I do with all the others.”

Two more eyes appeared, staring at her in the darkness. “But this one is special. It won’t do to mash him up with other toys. He got away the first time. How persistent. How enduring.” 

Four more eyes appeared.  “I want that. I can do so much with that. Being not just an ephemeral thing, being something that walks this earth... I want that.”

Countless more eyes appeared, surrounding her, pressing against each other. There was no darkness anymore, only the eyes. “That’s what he’ll help me do... once there’s nothing left to play with.”

Stacy couldn’t speak. Even if she wanted to, it was like there was a physical block in her throat. Everywhere she looked there were eyes, eyes, eyes, staring at her—staring into her—

“close your eyes.”

She listened immediately, squeezing them shut.

It laughed. “I’m still here. Even when you can’t see me. I’m still here.”

“breathe,” the whisper in her ear said. “remember why you’re here.”

Why she was here...? She was... here to learn more. So that... she could help John. And... honestly... maybe help herself, too.

She couldn’t break down now. She couldn’t. She had to keep it together for at least a little bit. If this thing could hurt her, it would’ve done so by now. If it could escape, it would’ve done so by now. She was fine. Fine. 

She took a deep breath and opened her eyes. The eyes were gone. The room was still dark, but the eyes were gone... or at least, most of them were. She could still see one, the original one that John had. She stared directly at it. “Y-you’re a monster... but I’m sure you know that,” she whispered. “Let me talk to John now.”

There was a flash of teeth as it smiled. “Why?”

“Let me talk to John now!” She repeated, voice cracking slightly.

“don’t argue with it,” the voice whispered. “it won’t listen.”

Stacy knew that. But what else could she do? She thought about it, then narrowed her eyes. “Alright... I know you’re in there, John—”

“That’s not his naa-aame,” it taunted.

“You shut up!” She adjusted position, kneeling instead of sitting. “John, I-I know you’re in there. I know you can fight it off.”

The lights overhead flickered again, turning on for a moment. She caught a glimpse of John’s face. His eyes were wide, both of them leaking blood. A pale, terrified mask. He didn’t say anything.

“Y-you probably think you can’t,” Stacy continued. “But... you can. At least just for a moment. Just so I can talk with you. Please.” She started to reach out. But there was a flash of movement, and a hand grabbed her wrist, stopping her. She jumped in surprise, looking down at it. Its skin was gray, but she wasn’t sure if that was its natural shade or because it was so covered in dust. Holes and indents pockmarked the hand and arm, and she went pale just looking at them.

“don’t get close. leave. now.”

“H-hey.” The word came out strained. Once again, the lightbulbs flickered, lighting up the room. John was leaning forward. His eyes were still wide, but there was something more focused in them now. “Leave... her... alone.”

“John!” Stacy gasped. She yanked her wrist free—though she had a feeling that it let her do that. “John, listen. I-I’m going to find a way to help you.”

“You... you can’t,” John said.

“I’ll figure something out!” Stacy said. “There’s a way to get rid of that glitchy thing, I just know there is. Yesterday, I—”

A hand suddenly covered her mouth. She cried out in surprise. “don’t say anything,” it whispered, the voice harsher than usual. “it will hear you.”

“Heh... i-it’s right... actually.” John smiled sadly for a second. “If... you’re so convinced... don’t tell me. It... would stop you.”

Stacy softened slightly. She nodded... and the hand disappeared. “John,” she said gently. “I... I’m sorry. That... th-this is happening.”

John laughed. This time, it was definitely his laugh, though it had a bit of a hysterical edge to it. “S-sorry? Sorry that I’m going to—going to be—i-it’s going to—to m-make me into s-some sort of v...vessel? F-for itself?” He doubled over, laughing harder. But it soon transitioned to sobbing. Tears cut through the blood on his face. “Stacy, I... I d-don’t want... I-I’m scared, Stacy... I-I don’t know h-how much longer I can... b-but I have to! I w-won’t let it win... but... I’m scared, Stacy. I’m scared... and tired.”

Stacy’s eyes welled with tears. “I am too,” she whispered. “I have been... for so long. B-but the kids are always around, so I have to pretend like everything is okay, a-and I can’t fall to pieces when I have stuff to do, when I have to keep going forward, but I’m so exhausted from pretending.” She took a deep breath. “It’s so... so tiring. I know.”

John sniffled. “What do we do about this, Stacy? It’s... it’s all so much.”

She didn’t know what to say right away. But the truth was, there was only one thing to say. “I have a plan,” she said. “It... it isn’t fully thought-out.” The truth was, she didn’t know what these horrors had in store. She didn’t know much of anything, even after she’d come back here to learn more. But she wasn’t going to tell him that. She couldn’t. That was the last thing he needed right now. “I... I know I have some way to help you, though. You just... just have to hold on.”

“I... I-I-I don’t have much else to do,” John said weakly. “I... I won’t let it win. I have to keep holding on.”

“Well you don’t have to keep holding on by yourself,” Stacy said. “I’m here. I’m going to help.” She started to reach out again, but then stopped, remembering how Misery prevented her. “I promise you. I’m going to help. I’m going to f-find some way to beat that glitchy creature.”

Silence filled the room. John’s eyes welled with tears again. He started to say something, but the words got stuck in his throat. A sob came out instead. He started crying in earnest. Stacy didn’t know what to say, so she just knelt there, fighting back her own tears. “...th-thank you,” John gasped out. “Thank you, thank you, S-Stacy. I—I-I don’t know what I’d—thank you. Th-thank you.”

Stacy nodded. “Love you, John,” she said, the words barely discernible as she continued to force back the tears. “Y-you’ve been my best friend through all this.”

“Y-you’ve been my—my only friend,” John said.

“I-I’ll do everything I can,” Stacy said. “I promise.”

John didn’t say anything. He just nodded.

“now,” the whisper in her ear said. “leave. we’ve done what we came here to.”

Did they? She felt like they hadn’t done anything while here at all. She’d been  tormented by the glitchy creature and tried to reassure John a bit. That was all. But... it was feeling riskier and riskier the more time she spent in here. “I’ll try to talk to you again later, John,” Stacy said, slowly standing up.

“No... d-don’t,” John said. “I-I don’t know if I’ll be able to—if I’ll be able to—” He swallowed a lump in his throat. “Just... go, Stacy. Be safe. I’ll... I-I’ll probably see you... later.”

Stacy nodded. She slowly stood up and walked backwards away from John, not daring to take her eyes off him. He stared at her. One green eye... one normal blue eye with a tear that trickled from it. She kept eye contact with that blue eye until she felt the door behind her. Then she grabbed the doorknob, twisted it open, and stumbled backwards into the stairwell.

The moment she was out in the open, Mark yanked her to the side and Michael slammed the door closed. “Are you alright?” Mark asked, looking her over. “He didn’t bite you again, did you?”

“No, no, I-I’m fine,” Stacy stammered. “I’m fine.”

“Oh thank god.” Mark let out a breath of relief. “How, uh... how did it... go?”

Stacy didn’t answer right away. Her face was still wet with tears.

“Um... Miss Stacy?” Rya asked. “Is there... anything we can do?”

She took a shaky breath. “I just need some time.”

“How about we go upstairs?” Diane suggested delicately.

“You guys go,” Leo said. “I’ll stay. Keep an eye on things. Just in case.”

“Thanks, Leo,” Michael said, reaching over to clap him on the back. “Be careful, okay?” He looked at Stacy. “If you want to lie down, you can borrow one of the girls’ beds, I guess?”

“Don’t volunteer us,” Rya said defensively. “But, uh... yes, you can lie down on my bed if you want.”

Stacy smiled weakly. “Thanks, but I think just sitting on the sofa will be fine.”

“Alright, up to the living room, then,” Mark said. “Let’s go.”

As they headed up the stairs, Stacy couldn’t help but glance over her shoulder. But, of course, with the door closed, she couldn’t see anything of note. Leo waved at her, then gestured her onwards. She smiled, and continued up the steps, heading to the living room.

 The light at the bottom of the stairwell flickered.

* * * * * * * * * *

The moment that door slammed, he felt his muscles stiffen against his will. His jaw clenched so hard that he almost felt his teeth crack and his limbs began to shake. He threw his head backwards, slamming it against the pipe. His ears rang with the impact. He tried to let out a shriek of pain but it was like a fist was wrapped around his vocal cords. Slam! Slam! Slam! It happened again and again. The tears caused by sadness were soon joined by tears caused by pain.

ĘþʶãÚĴDOăįĕýŢĤ

ļºĐŠŽĹūŨňóYOUŹĈŵË÷ØŬ

§íìűݼTHINK©æ±ęĎ·«Í£Ô

ġ¬çĝYOUŧŰŀħð¡ôĬĨľÄ

ě¯čőCANéąċúûáĭģ

àÈÿŏÓťESCAPE?!ĊêĜšŎ³ÝĿĢŴř

The voice hurt his head. It echoed from the inside, crashing against his skull.

şţŭŇŊŲDOÅğÛ

śďŋĆŞYOUā¤Ò

üŃŔĮâÎTHINK°ųōß

Ü»ćYOUźÀŪIJ¿ĖŦ

¾¹CANēòŘŖ´

ÕķÖÑĸHOPE?!ŚŒÃвĀÉŗīņ

He tried to scream. He tried to scream so hard. The scent of copper filled his nostrils as blood leaked from his eyes down his face.

Ë·ð«ÒļċÅĨŖYOU»ĶįºŤŊĚŸĂµà×ĪŦ

§ħžō¨AREŴݯÙĠĐăĝ

ĀÂűľ¿ĆMINE!!!ŵşĦùĉĢ

And suddenly, he slumped, gasping for air as the sudden control disappeared. His muscles were weak, shivery. The rope around his neck was an uncomfortably tight, impossible to ignore presence. His nerves were singing, singing, singing with tingling static.

He blinked slowly... and for a moment, he wasn’t in his body anymore. He was in front of it, looking at his own face. 

His head lifted up. Both his eyes had green scleras and dark irises, and he smiled. “Let me show you what I mean,” his own voice whispered.

Then he was back in his body again, feeling through his skin and seeing through his eyes. Something scratched at his throat and he coughed. Out came blood... and something else. Something solid. He looked down, seeing something shiny and metallic in the crimson liquid. He felt something on his lips, and spat out a long, thin, flexible thing. Like... like some sort of wire.

Against his will, his mouth moved. He felt his vocal cords being squeezed together to make sounds. “Let... me... show... you... something,” he said. “That... coward... with... the... woman. I... took... something... from... it.”

Before he could wonder what that was about, his whole body seized up once more. And then, slowly... he felt himself collapsing inward. His legs jerked up, knees coming to his chest, and his elbows folded, shoulders popping out. His spine curled, forcing his neck to dig into the rope. Its length dug into the old wound across his throat, the one that never healed, and he couldn’t breathe. Every single muscle in his body contracted and his jaw opened wide, cracking at the joints. His bones shrieked with deep pain.

He felt like he was dissolving. Like he’d drank acid and it was eating away at his insides. Like dynamite had been liquefied and injected into his veins, causing small pops that tore at his flesh. He was unraveling, he was being unmade, his body was shaking so hard that its skin and organs were evaporating—

And then, suddenly, it was over.

He laid on the floor, shuddering and gasping. The pain remained in his veins and nerves, clawing at him from the inside out.

But it wasn’t done yet.

His arms and legs jerked, pushing him upright... Upright. He wasn’t tied down anymore. That confused him so much that he was briefly able to wrest control of his head away from the creature in his body, using it to look around the room. He was suddenly in the middle of the basement room. The rope that he’d been bound with were in a heap on the floor by the washing machine. What... happened?

Then his head snapped forward again and he lunged for the door, stumbling and slamming against it. He grabbed the doorknob and twisted it, pushing the door open—

Slam.

Someone on the other side of the door pushed it closed again. “No no no no,” a voice said—he recognized it as belonging to the guy named Leo. “Don’t you fucking dare. Guys! Guys!”

A giggle came from his throat. “No one to heeeear you,” his voice rasped. “Don’t bother to call. It won’t go through.”

His body reeled back and slammed forward against the door again. It hurt, but he wasn’t allowed to cry out. He could only scream in silence as it threw his whole weight against the wood over and over and over—

There! A gap! His hand shot out—the door slammed on his palm, crunching the bones inside. Nothing broke, luckily. But that didn’t mean the edge digging into his flesh didn’t hurt. “Dios mio!” Leo gasped. “Guys? Guys?! Help!”

Another laugh came from his throat. The fingers on the hand caught in the door started to wiggle, nails digging into the wood, looking for purchase. His limbs jerked and he shoved his whole body at the gap, forcing more of his hand through. He felt his bones grinding against each other, his skin being pulled as he pushed past even through the pressure.

“Guys!!” Leo shouted. To his credit, he didn’t stop pushing the door closed. “Get down here!!”

“They won’t come, Leo,” his voice whispered. He continued to push—

and then

he felt

his skin

rrrip.

Leo screamed in horror as blood started to leak from his hand. There were so many blood vessels in the hand. So, so many. The wooden edge of the door was quickly stained crimson.

He felt Leo’s strength falter in shock.

And he felt its triumph as it threw his body at the door again.

This time he slammed through, knocking Leo to the ground as the door hit the opposite wall hard enough for the doorknob to dent the plaster. It looked down at Leo and forced his face into a smile as it started to reach down—

No no no no no nobody gets hurt!

He pushes back against the thing, and his body froze for a moment. Just long enough for Leo to scramble to his feet and rush up the stairs. But not long enough to stop his body from running after him, right on his tail. This glitchy creature attached to him—it must have been saving its strength. Because he couldn’t fight it as easily as he thought he could.

This time, Leo wasn’t able to close the door in time. He tried, but hesitated and decided it would be better to run. So he did, shouting as he went. “It’s out it’s out it’s out! Fucking get out!”

He ran after Leo, skidding a bit on the tile floor of the kitchen—even running into a counter, but his body recovered from the blow easily and kept pursuing him into the dining room, and from there into the living room.

Everyone was in here. All of them. The other three who lived in this house, and Mark and Stacy... and that gray-colored thing that had been constantly lurking over Stacy’s shoulder the last two times he’d seen her. Its black, dripping eyes stared right at him as he ran into the room after Leo.

For a split second, Stacy and the three who lived here were frozen. But Mark ran for the front door, yanking it open. “Everyone out!” he shouted, and that caused the others to spring into motion. They all ran for the door.

But they weren’t fast enough. His body lunges forward, hand wrapping around the back of Leo’s shirt and pulling him back. “No!” Diane shouted, and turned back around. She picked up a lamp from a table and lunged at him, swinging wildly. He pulled Leo towards him and the lamp ended up smacking him instead, the lampshade flying off from the force of the impact. “Sorry!” Diane shouted.

“I said get out!” Mark was in the doorway, waiting for them.

“But—”

“I got it!” Leo yelled, recovering from the blow quickly and twisting around to smack him in the side of the head. He hadn’t done much to hold him tight, had he? Even that simple blow was enough to make him let go of his shirt. Diane immediately dropped the lamp and grabbed Leo, pulling him back towards the front door.

A growl leaves his throat, something animalistic. His body bent over and grabbed the lamp Diane had dropped, then stood up straight and whirled around, hitting the lamp against the wall. The now-exposed lightbulb shattered, and he felt its satisfaction in the smile that it made his face form.

Then it spun his body around and ran for the front door.

Leo and Diane were out, but Mark was still in the doorway. His eyes widened and he raised his arms defensively as he jabbed the broken end of the lamp at him—the broken glass dug into his skin, cutting, stabbing—Mark yelled out and kicked him back, then hurried out of the doorway, slamming it behind him.

He climbed to his feet again, strange, strained laughter coming from his throat. And then—then he felt that same thing he felt while in the basement. That feeling of collapsing, of folding up, of dissolving. As the pain wracked his body, a scream was torn out of him—

And suddenly he was outside, lying on the sidewalk, breathing heavily, blinking against the bright sunshine. He wasn’t allowed to recover, though, as his body was pushed back upright.

The six outside all gaped at him in horror. His face was forced into a smile as he lunged forward.

“Car!” Michael shouted, opening the door of the gray van parked in the driveway. Mark grabbed Stacy and ran for a second car parked on the street while the other three headed for the van. His head twitched back and forth between the two of them—no no no don’t hurt anyone don’t hurt anyone—and his body turned to the side, running after the four going into the van.

“No!” Rya kicked him back and tried to close the door, but she wasn’t as strong as Mark and she didn’t knock him back as far. He recovered quickly and leapt forward—and the van door slid closed, the metal edge crashing into his side. Another scream escaped the hold the creature had on his mind, and Rya flinched back.

“Here!” Leo grabbed something from the glove compartment and tossed it back to Rya, who caught it: a switchblade. She opened it up and drove it into his shoulder, and another scream came out—but then the creature tightened its hold, and the scream became a laugh. His hand shot out and grabbed Rya’s wrist, wrenching it to the side. Rya yelped in pain, and Diane lunged over from the other seat to pull her away.

His other hand reached up and tore the knife from where it was sticking in his shoulder. He slashed wildly, and Rya scrambled back as it tore through her clothes, causing bleeding cuts. Now that he had more room, he pushed the van door open and climbed further into the van, slamming it closed behind him.

Clunk.

The van doors locked. Michael’s eyes widened and he tried to unlock them again, but it didn’t work. It didn’t work at all. The four of them were trapped.

No no no no no—

Please no no no no no—

His body grinned and he lunged forward.

On the outside, Mark began to start the car, but Stacy grabbed onto his arm, stopping him. “Didn’t you see that?!” she hissed. “John went into the van! We have to help them!”

“Oh fuck!” Mark’s eyes widened. “Go go go go go!”

Stacy immediately left the car and ran towards the van, which was now shaking back and forth. The windows were tinted so she couldn’t see what was happening. Someone inside screamed. She tried to slide open one of the side doors. It didn’t move. She tried to pull open the doors on the back. They didn’t budge.

“They’re stuck!” Stacy looked back at the car. “What do we do?!”

“Hang on!” Mark was still at the car, rummaging around inside. “Got it!” He slammed the car door and ran on over. He was holding some sort of metal spike in one hand, and he slammed the pointy end into the driver’s side window. The glass shattered and crumpled instantly.

A pair of hands reached out, covered in blood, and Mark and Stacy grabbed one each and started to pull, trying to ignore the slick feeling beneath her hands. Michael tumbled out and collapsed on the floor, gasping. “What happened?!” Mark asked.

The doors at the back of the van opened. Stacy’s head whipped towards it. She saw blood dripping from the bottom... and then John stumbled out, breathing heavily. Lines of blood splatter covered his clothes. His mouth twitched, caught between a smile and a look of horror. Something trailed from the corner of his green eye. Not tears. Not blood. Not any liquid at all. Some sort of thin, black wire, ending in exposed copper. His right hand spasmed, dropping the knife it held. And no wonder. The fingers were crooked, nails broken, palm and back torn up and bleeding.

“John...” she breathed.

He didn’t answer. His head twitched, his eyes widened, and he collapsed—only to disappear from sight before he hit the ground. Stacy gasped and looked around, but he was nowhere in sight.

“copycat,” a whisper said in her ear. She could hear the frown in its voice.

She shuddered, and slowly walked around to the open doors in the back of the van. She stared into its interior. Splatters of blood covered the walls and seats, and three figures laid there. She couldn’t tell if they were breathing.

“Stacy!” Mark shouted over to her. “Call an ambulance!” He was busy checking Michael’s wounds.

She reached into her pocket and slowly took her phone out, dialing 911. When the operator picked up she stammered something about blood and urgency and then dropped the phone. It landed face-up, its screen showing that the call was still connected. She watched it idly... waiting for the call to end. Waiting for that glitchy thing to cut the connection.

Then she turned and headed back to the car, opening up the back door and climbing inside.

With the door closed, the outside world was muffled. As long as she didn’t look towards the driveway, she would be fine.

The seat shifted next to her. She felt a weight lean against her. “hey. how are you?”

Stacy laughed, her voice cracking. “How am I?! How do you think?!”

“i already know. it’s polite to ask.”

She shivered. “I-I don’t want—y-you can’t just—i-it’s creepy that you just know.”

“i can’t change what i am.”

There was no response to that. Stacy pulled her feet up onto the seat and buried her head in her knees. She felt that hand on her shoulder again.

“you don’t have to pretend,” it whispered. “i already know. it’s okay.”

And that was the final straw. Stacy started sobbing openly, tears soaking into the knees of her jeans. It was too much. It was all too much. For well over a year, she’d been hunted, had to run, been controlled, almost killed, had to fight off a glitchy thing that tried to hurt her kids, searched across the country for the only person who understood her, and found that he too was possessed by some creature that wanted to completely use his body. It was too much. It was way too much, for way too long. And now these horrible creatures wanted to use her and John to fight another one of them? What the hell could she do in the face of all this? 

Something leaned against her. For once, she didn’t reflectively flinch away. Instead, as she felt arms wrap around her, she leaned back and let Misery embrace her.

* * * * * * * * * *

Mark ran over to the car, holding Stacy’s phone in one hand. “They said they’re gonna be here soon!” he shouted. “The four guys are—” Then he stopped. “...Stacy?”

The back seat of the car was empty.

* * * * * * * * * *

By the time Stacy stopped crying, she looked up, and she was somewhere else entirely. Sitting on the floor of a house. An empty house. With no furniture. The sky through the windows was black with night. This place looked familiar...

“get some rest.”

But it didn’t matter. She was tired. So, so, tired.

She laid on the floor and closed her eyes.

[crystalninjaphoenix]

Alright, time for some clarification. Because this was something that me and Huffle did on our own privately, unsure if we were gonna post it at first, I went a bit harder than normal with some of the horrorseptics stuff. Most notably, Notarzt's "medical" whump (medical in quotation marks because it's not really for medical purposes). I'm a terrible judge of what would make people uncomfortable, so I'm not sure what to put warnings for. BUT if you're squeamish about operations and characters in pain, read at your own discretion.

Swap into the CrystalVerse Chapter 20: Horror Septics

Co-written with @crystalninjaphoenix 

Read Swapboys | Read Horror Septics | AO3 Link

Prologue | Switch | Stitched | PNPT | Septicheroes | Fantasy Masks

Taglist: @brokentimewatch @di-diwata  

This time after the fall, Alt finds himself in a city. And, despite the slightly older architecture, it is clearly a modern city, with asphalt streets and electric lamps and a group of three people hurriedly walking past wearing jeans and t-shirts. The sky is darker, with just the tinge of orange sunset to the west.

One of the people in the group stops walking and stares at him. "Hallo du! Tourist!" she shouts. "Was machst du? Es ist Nacht! Gehen Sie zurück in Ihr Hotel!" They're speaking a different language, but unlike landing in the last universe, it's a language he at least recognizes.

Alt sways on his feet and shakes out his head. He blinks at the people and then casts his translation spell on himself- but now it feels familiar. He's done this a couple times on Henrik. He asks the woman is shaky German, "Um hi? Can you repeat that please? I don't think I caught it." As he asks he looks around the city, trying to see if there's anything familiar. Though, the fact that they're immedately speaking German to him is not a good sign.

The woman glances him over, then looks back at her two companions. Before she can say anything, though-- EEEEP! EEEEP! EEEEP! The TRVLR starts letting out a loud beeping noise. When Alt turns on the screen, it shows the following message:

WARNING

Lethal ALTRs detected in Current Location: (!)UA-1031019HS. Please jump as soon as possible.

But even if Alt wanted to do that, he can't, because the message and beeping barely lasts long enough for him to read it before it's replaced by the low battery icon.

Alt glitches in surprise as the TRVLR starts to beep and he pulls it out. He goes pale as he reads the message. "No- w-what?!"

The three Germans have decided to have a conversation between themselves while Alt reads the message. The woman from before seems to be insisting something. One of the others, a man, looks concerned, while the second woman stares at the west where the orange light of the sun is fading.

Alt looks desperately at the group and now shouts with more determination, "Please! Where am I?! I-Is there something dangerous around here?"

The three of them jump, surprised, and seem a bit more wary of him. The second woman says in halting English, "Mister, go back to your hotel room, you should not be out on the streets at night in Achmatze." And then, abruptly, they all hurry away, turning the nearest street corner and vanishing from sight.

Alt looks close to panicking as he starts to glitch and run down the street. He pulls out his phone to see if he can message Bro- he needs to warn him!

It seems WiFi and cell signal works in this universe--though he seems to be in a bad reception spot. But before he can do anything, there's something behind him. Footsteps. Approaching rapidly.

How fast can you react, Alt?

Alt almost freezes then he starts to glitch as fast as he can, rushing down the road in a blind panic.

But even glitching, he's not fast enough. Somehow, impossibly, the sound just gets closer and closer, until something grabs him from behind, wrapping an arm around his torso. He feels a pain in his neck.

Alt screams and tries to thrash away, glitching wildly. "N-No! LET ME GO!" He tries to glitch out of their clutches even as his surroundings start to dim and blur.

He does manage to glitch out of the grip holding him back, but he doesn't get far, stumbling down the street and losing his balance. The footsteps behind him approach--not as fast as before, but still quickly--and simply grabs him again, dragging him back towards an open doorway in a nearby building.

Alt stumbles as far as he can before he's grabbed again and now he can feel himself slowing down. His body tries to fizzle and pop with glitches but not enough for him to free himself again. "No! S-Stop...! H-Help...!"

But nobody comes. He's dragged backwards through the doorway. It leads into a hallway with stained white walls and stained white tiles on the floor. And then he blinks. And the doorway leading outside again is gone. Instead there's simply more of the hallway, extending forward, seemingly endless. His vision is starting to waver.

Alt whimpers as the door disappears, terrified tears in his eyes. Is this how he's gonna die? He can't even warn Chase...! He tries to glitch out again, desperate to get away.

His body fizzles for a moment then reappears a little down the hallway. If he was trying to leave by glitching through the walls, it doesn't work. There might as well have been solid rock beyond.

Alt scrambles to try to glitch through the walls but finds himself blocked. Which only makes him panic more.

But as he glitches he turns around, and sees what grabbed him. Stitches mar skin and clothing. One bloodshot blue eye stares at him from above a blue surgical mask. It vaguely looks human, wearing a white coat that is red on the inside, but it is so clearly not.

Then, whatever was injected into him as his legs shaking and then crumpling underneath him.

As he loses his balance, it walks over and crouches down next to him. "Geh ins Bett."

Alt tries to scramble back but he's starting to lose feeling in his limbs. He pleads to the figure. "p-please... d-don't...!"

It simply tilts his head to the side, watching him. Waiting. It knows it won't have to wait long, but this is longer than it expected.

Alt sobs as the darkness threatens to swallow him whole. He whimpers and cries out for his brother. “c-chase…! Chase! H-Help…!”

Darkness soon drags Alt down.

-----------

Bro falls for a second, and lands in a field--no, not just in a field. He's right next to a motorway. Asphalt with cement bounce walls lining it and cars driving quickly down the road. A clearly modern environment. But it is quite isolated. There's nothing but this field of waist-length grass for a while. There's a forest on the edge of the horizon and some sort of building slightly closer than that? It's dark, though. Maybe abandoned. The sun above is dipping near the horizon but not yet touching it. Something rustles in the grass.

Bro startles as he hears the motorway. After a couple days of being in a fantasy land, the sudden noise was a lot. He whirls around to see the field and scratches his head. “Welp… not home again…” He sighs. Then he jumps and hovers in the air for a second as the grass rustles.

A figure pops up. He gasps, then laughs. "H-hey, it's just me!" It's Alt.

Bro relaxes and floats back down to Alt and laughs shakily. “Jesus dude you scared me! Finally we got better luck and actually fell together huh??”

"It's about time, isn't it?" Alt grins and looks around. "Uh... where are we, though?"

“No fucking clue, dude.” Bro answers. He looks out at the horizon and sees the building. “Looks like we got two options, either going to that building or we can try to follow the motorway to see if we can find a town or landmark.”

"Hmm." Alt pauses, thinking. "Well... we could check out that building first." He points. "I-it's not like there's anything stopping us from coming back to the motorway. Besides, haven't we been appearing near, uh, you know... people like us? Maybe someone's in there?"

“Hm! Good point, lil bro!” Bro grins and then takes off into the air. “You wanna race then? The sun is setting and not gonna lie- it’s getting kinda creepy out here!”

Alt grins right back. "You're on!"

Bro laughs and then rockets off towards the house, very briefly checking behind to see if Alt is catching up.

Every time Bro looks back, Alt is a little bit closer. But despite clearly glitching in order to keep up, he's not passing Bro yet. He must still be tired from powering the TRVLR. The building is some ways away, but they steadily approach it.

Bro seems a bit worried but- he also does want to win. Alt’s been beating him a lot lately. So he bursts in a bit of a faster flight and focuses on getting to the house.

--------------

Magnificent appears in a forest--not a good sign for the modernity of this world. But the ropes binding him have disappeared. Since they were made of that world's magic, they must not have been able to last the jump. The forest is full of tall trees with dark bark, a few beams of late-day orange sunlight shining between the rare gaps in the branches. There isn't as much undergrowth as there usually would be in a forest, but there is a lot of fog, curling around the roots of the trees, strands catching around Magnificent's legs.

Magnificent rights himself and then rubs at his wrists. He glares at the forest and then groans, “Another fucking forest- okay…” He sighs and then changes his appearance back to his normal one, scanning the area- is there any magic around here? He’s not lacking… but you know. New world- probably.

It hits him like a truck. Not like the last world, where the magic was everywhere but somewhat distant. Instead, he is standing on the edge of an ocean. Draining power from this source would be like trying to fill a bucket with its water. Even if he can do it without being bowled over by the waves, he would only be able to take a fraction of a percent of a portion of it, and the ocean would not notice its absence.

Magnificent gasps and stumbles against a nearby tree trunk, eyes wide as he registers just how much magic there is. "W-What the hell...? This- this power-!" He pushes himself up to try to look for the source. This- he must try to harness this- control the source! if he did... he'd be unstoppable!

He reaches out. It's all around him, and its power slowly fills him. Around his feet, the fog swirls faster, circling around him like a whirlpool.

Oh.

Oh, he was wrong.

The ocean did notice.

And now it is watching him.

"You're very lost."

Magnificent stiffens and whips around to look for the voice. "Who's there?" He lights green fire in his hand." Show yourself!"

"I think you're just not looking hard enough." As his eyes scan the forest, he suddenly sees it. A tall figure--certainly taller than him--that blends in easily with the trees. Most of its body is hidden even as the light from his fire falls upon it, but the flames dance upon a skull-like mask with two triangular ears. A Chesire grin sits wide beneath the facade. "Where did you come from? And why are you here?"

Magnificent snarls and then he freezes as he sees the figure. He then narrows his eyes at it, "... I come from a world beyond here. And I'm here to gain power." He says plainly. Something feels... off here. "What are you, specter?"

"They call me Cait Coill down in the hollow," it says, taking a step closer, moving so smooth that it almost looks like it's gliding. "You come from the worlds beyond? We haven't had one of those in a long, long, time. And not one so... fragile."

"Fragile?!" Magnificent growls, "You clearly don't know who you're dealing with, Cait Coill..." But- a nagging voice in the back of his head seems to shrink back, wondering if he can even face this thing.

"You have a heart that beats. You have lungs that breathe. You have a liver that filters. You have nerves that sing." Cait Coill raises a hand. The ends of the fingers are sharp. Maybe they're claws. It's hard to tell. "How easy it would be to stop those all." It laughs. Probably. The smiling mouth doesn't open. "But very well. You are... sturdier than most. And you seek power. Is that why you reached out? To take it?"

It is so very quiet in the forest.

Magnificent feels a shiver run down his spine and he staggers back, actual fear flickering in his heart for a second. "Yes..." Magnificent admits. "O-Or perhaps... we could form an alliance?"

"You're not used to offering that, are you?" Cait Coill says quietly. "But if that's what you wish, I can provide."

Magnificent is suddenly very aware of a... loosening. Like he had been held in a tight grip that was now relaxing.

"What can you provide?"

Magnificent falters. "I-I can provide... magical knowledge! Or my unique form of mental magic." He tries not to shudder. He feels like he's making a deal with the devil.

"Why would I need that?" Cait Coill's head tilts to the side. It moves again in that smooth gliding gait. Is it... circling him?

"But... hmm, there is something you may be able to do. I cannot leave my forest, you see. Which is a problem when some of my... not enemies, that is too harsh a word. But we can use it for now. Some of my enemies exist outside my domain. You can leave. Take the power you can carry. If you agree to seek out something in a red hood. You will know it when you see it. Seek it out, and attack when you find it. Intend to kill. Does that work for you?"

"Um... s-sure." Magnificent says slowly. He feels like refusing could get him killed. "I can do that."

Cait Coill nods. The grip disappears entirely. "Take what you will, then." Some of the fog clears, forming a perfectly straight line heading to the left. "Follow that to the road. Once you reach it, you can head wherever you like."

Magnificent breathes and then nods almost reverently. He skids around Cait Coill and starts to walk down the path, taking the power he needs as he walks. His chest feels cold- that distant voice in his head fearfully telling him he's made a grave mistake.

Don't you know Marvin? You never agree with the fae...

Cait Coill stays where it is, watching Magnificent walk away until it feels him step off the forest floor and onto the asphalt of the single road cutting through the trees. "Follow him," it says. The branches above rustle as something moves, skittering limbs and swinging strings. It's the sort of movement that would cause a lot of rustling leaves and creaking branches. But it's so silent in the forest.

Magnificent breaks into a sprint after a second to breathe, using his magic and now this boost to help him teleport away faster.

Why was it so quiet?

-----------

Bro reaches the building first. It's not a house, it's... some kind of concrete box. A radio tower? A cell tower? There's a metal spire sticking out of the roof.

Bro stops in front of the building and stares at it curiously. "Huh."

Alt isn't far behind. "Hah... another win for the great Bro Fantastic, huh?" he says.

Bro turns and grins down at Alt, "Hey! You made good time though~" He lightly teases. He then touches down to the ground and looks around for an entrance. "Whatcha think this place is anyways?"

Alt shrugs. "I don't know. Radio, maybe? They have to have antennas all over the country to broadcast everywhere. People still live in the middle of nowhere and they need to reach others." He walks up to the door, testing it. When it swings easily, he pulls it open. "Come on. Might as well see."

"Oh huh yeah- never really thought of that." Bro admits as he follows after Alt. "... still feels weird though-"

"Yeah, I know." Alt shivers. "It... does give me the creeps a little."

The door opens into a wide room, almost empty. The only real things of note are a desk--reception, of some kind?--and a couple chairs around the edges of the room. There are three doors, all ajar--left wall, right wall, and straight ahead.

"Hello?" Alt calls. There's no answer. "Uh..." He glances at Bro uneasily. "You... want to check out the rooms?"

Stuff might be in there. People might be in there. Might as well.This is creepy, but it's kind of fun to explore with his brother.

"Yeah... might as well," Bro mumbles. "Stick together though... just in case there's like... something bad hiding in here." He starts to go forward, to the door straight ahead of them.

"Right." Alt is suddenly ahead of him. Glitching again, haha. It's good to see after the lack of glitches in the last world. He reaches out and pushes the door fully open. "Hello?" he says, stepping inside.

As Bro starts to follow, someone grabs him. They were hiding behind the desk! And now they pull him back there as well, one hand covering his mouth. "Don't go in there," a voice whispers in his ear.

Bro jerks as he's grabbed and tries to elbow the person holding him.

The person bites back a yelp and immediately lets go of him. When Bro turns to look, he sees an older man--no. Wait. Not older. Despite the streaks of grey in his brown hair, his face isn't actually too much older than Bro himself. He's wearing a couple different layers of shirts and jackets, ending in a green parka with fur around the hood. An eye-patch covers his right eye. Bandages are wrapped around his neck.

"Sorry!" the man whisper-shouts. "But don't go in there! Don't follow it!"

"Chase?" Alt's voice calls.

Bro's eyes widen as he takes in the man's appearance. But, then he growls and starts to push himself up, "It? That's my brother, asshole! What are you playing at? Hiding out back here?" He whispers.

"Yes, I am, actually!" The man hisses back. He gestures around him, and Chase notices that there's a sleeping bag and duffel bag beneath the desk. "I-it was working out, since the tower doesn't work anymore, but it was still freaking me out so I was going to leave--you're so lucky I didn't, oh my god."

"Chase? Is everything alright?" Alt's footsteps turn around and head back into the main room.

The man's eyes widen. He grips Chase's jacket. "Listen, Chase--that's your name right? What color are your brother's eyes? What does he usually wear? Don't go off memory, look at him and think about it!"

Chase takes in the area with widening eyes. Something- something's not right here. He stiffens slightly as he hears Alt coming. "W-What? I... I know what my brother looks like!" He whispers in slight panic.

"Yes, I'm sure you do, that's why I'm telling you to look, and I mean really look," the man insists.

Chase pushes himself away from the man, a feeling of dread heavy in his gut.

"Chase?!" Alt appears in the doorway again, looking worried. "There you are, why--" When he notices the man he stiffens slightly. Why? He was surprised, right? But... why does it feel like there was a split second of something else there. "Did this guy attack you?!"

Bro whips around to look at Alt and then throws up his hands, "N-No! No he... he just startled me- I'm okay."

With the man's warning in mind though, Chase starts to study Alt a bit closer, trying to see if anything is off.

"Are you sure? Did he grab you?" Alt asks.

Nothing much is off. Alt's hair is brown as always and his eyes are blue and he's wearing his jacket.

...

Wait. Alt's eyes are green.

No no no, wait, they're both. He has central heterochromia.

Is that what he's looking at?

Alt has freckles. He usually uses his mask to hide them and his scar. Where are his freckles supposed to be? It's like... as he's staring at this face, it's like they won't... settle?

Imagine talking to someone on the phone. Imagine instinctively picturing them in your mind, and then changing and adjusting that picture as they describe themself to you. That's what Chase is looking at. Except the picture is constantly changing. It's Alt, right? His hair is brown and his eyes are blue and green and he has freckles and a scar and he's wearing his red jacket--

...

Alt's jacket wasn't red when they started jumping through universes.

Why is it red now?

As Chase stares he slowly starts to realize that something is off. But, mostly he's thrown off by the jacket.

Alt's jacket has always... always been blue.

He staggers back, eyes wide. "You're... you're not Alt-"

Alt's face drops. Almost literally, as all of a sudden this human-shaped thing does not look like him at all and Chase isn't sure how he ever could've mistaken it for his brother. It looks at the man with the eye-patch and scowls. "You ruin everything."

The man laughs, a hysterical anxiety-fueled edge to it. "I'm happy to r-ruin things for you! What fucking bad luck, that you decided to go here!"

"I had a plan, I didn't know you were here! It's a radio tower, you know. The spire can still be used even if it's been disconnected."

The man grips Chase's arm. It's unclear if this is for comfort, or if he's trying to pull Chase away from... whatever that is.

Chase staggers back, closer to the man as he watches this thing take away the image of his little brother. Tears gather in his eyes as he suddenly shouts, looking ready to punch this imposter in the face. "W-What did you do with Alt?! Where is he??"

It shrugs. Do shoulders move like that? "I don't know. He wasn't anywhere near you when you popped out of nowhere. I simply... took advantage of the situation."

"You are so lucky," the man is muttering behind him. "You are so fucking lucky. It got you fast, didn't it?"

Chase feels like he can’t breathe. He- he was just willing to believe this thing. But- it looked like Alt! It acted like him- it glitched like him….

Hadn’t it…?

“W-What are you?!”

"That's a good question," it says, and smiles. A moment passes. Then it turns away. "Well. I'll see you later." And it walks right out of the building like nothing had happened at all.

The man lets out a shaky breath. "...maybe you're not so lucky."

“W-Wait! Fucking- Bastard! Get back here!” Bro shouts at the retreating figure, bunching up like he’s ready to go chasing after it.

"Nope!" The man grabs the back of his jacket and pulls him back. "Really think about what you're going to do. Do you want to go after that?!"

Chase oofs as he’s pulled back, then he jerks his arm back and glares at the man. “I… I don’t know! I just- want answers! What’s going on here? What is that thing? Why did it know my brother and I-imitate him so well? Who are you? Why do you know that thing?!” He asks in rapid succession, trying not to panic.

"Yeah well, it isn't going to give you those answers!" The man sighs. "Okay, look. I'll try to explain some. That thing is called Sangria. You know, like the wine, or the shade of red. I-I'm pretty sure it can mildly read minds? Just enough to know what you want. I-I guess you really wanted your brother. And it... does whatever it can to get close to people. As for me, I'm..." He hesitates. "My name is ä±ÞėŎ, but that's... hard for people to remember, so call me whatever you like. I've met Sangria a couple of times... and some others like it." Hard for people to remember indeed. Did he mumble his name?

“Sangira…” Chase repeats, knitting his eyebrows together. “Uh… y-yeah I do… we got separated when coming here… n-now I’m even more worried then I have been. If that t-thing is just walking around, tricking people-!” He then pauses as he tries to process the man’s name. “I’m sorry.., what was your name again?”

"×ķěńĢï," the man says, sounding almost sad. "Look, don't worry about it. Just give me a nickname or whatever, I'm okay with almost anything." He laughs. "As long as you don't call me 'shitface' or something." He quickly becomes serious again. "As for your brother... well, there's no guarantee, but people alone are bigger targets for these things. What... what did you mean by you 'came here'? There's not many places around here."

Chase looks distressed that he can’t understand the man’s name but he nods. He tries to laugh but all he feels is dread. “I… I’m not sure if you’ll believe me but… I’m from- another universe. Usually they’re parallel but I… I have no idea how we relate here… Sangira doesn’t remind me of anyone I know… except you know- when he tried to look like my brother…”

The man blinks. Then laughs. “Sure. Why the fuck not? Other universes.” He shakes his head. “Maybe this is your first one without any parallels. I don’t know. I certainly don’t know a version of you. Chase with a brother named Alt? Doesn’t ring a bell. Or maybe Sangria only vaguely resembles someone you know. Do you know anyone who usually wears red, maybe a hoodie? Its red hood is its most distinct characteristic.”

“I mean… Alt is his preferred name now but… he used to be called Anti. If that helps.” Chase mutters. He pulls out his phone, wondering if he can get a message out to Alt. Though… by now his phone might be dead. When the man mentions the red hoodie, Chase freezes and suddenly pales. “…no- no no no there’s no way… there’s no f-fucking way…!” He whispers in disbelief.

"I don't know anyone named Anti, either--huh?" The man looks down at Chase's phone as he pulls it out. He goes a bit pale and quickly walks away, around the desk. He looks like he wants to go further, but then Chase starts freaking out. "Wait, did you actually find a connection?"

Chase whips his head towards the man and then panics more, “No! Cuz there’s… t-there’s so way that thing is Jackie! There’s no way that m-monster is my best friend! No no no- this… this is fucking—!” He grips at his head and shakes it.

"Oh. Um..." The man hesitates, then reaches across the desk and awkwardly, almost comically, pats Chase on the shoulder. "It's... probably just a coincidence. I mean, there are a bunch of people out there who wear red hoodies. I like hoodies. Maybe I'm your Jackie." He laughs, also awkwardly. "I-I don't mean that, really."

Chase blinks up at the man and tries to breathe, “uh… r-right…” He laughs a little and shakes his head. “…maybe I can call you… not Jackie but similar… Jack, maybe-“

The man’s expression brightens. “Y-yeah! You can do that! N-no problem.”

Chase looks around and furrows his eyebrows, “Hey why… why are you in this radio tower anyways?”

And just as quickly, Jack’s expression darkens again. “Well I uh… I don’t like… being around technology. So this place out in the middle of nowhere seemed perfect. I know, I know, huge radio spire, but everything else in here was stripped away so I thought it was good enough. Like I said earlier, though, it was still kind of freaking me out so I was going to leave soon. Decided to spend one last night here, and… well. You’re so lucky I did.”

"Yeah... i think I am..." Chase hugs himself tightly and then checks his phone again. Definitely dead now. That's what happens when you're in a world without electricity for 3 days. He sighs and shoves his phone in his pocket. "Well you don't have to worry, my phone is dead. But, why are you like- avoiding all that stuff? Usually to do that people like- go off the grid in the woods somewhere."

“God, I’d love to go live in the woods somewhere but I do not have the survival skills for that.” He points to the left, vaguely down the motorway. “There’s a town an hour or two’s walk in that direction, I go there to get food and stuff. As for why… it… has to do with something like Sangria.” He takes a deep breath. “I got targeted by one of them a while ago. I-I escaped, but it… might still be looking for me. It… uses technology. Computers and stuff. So… the less time I can spend around it, the better. Sometimes it can’t be helped though. Like I said, I don’t have the skills to go off grid completely.”

“Oh damn…” Chase mutters, “That’s… terrifying- I can’t imagine trying to… cut myself off from tech. And all alone…“ He sighs and then pushes himself up. “…are- are there a lot of things like Sangria around here? I… i gotta go find my brother…”

“Ha!” Jack laughs, then abruptly covers his mouth to stop himself. “I’m sorry. That’s not funny.” He lowers his hand again, unmuffling his mouth. “To sum it up… yeah? I think so.” He pauses. “If you need help looking for your brother… I’d be happy to join you. I know about a few of them and can probably spot them even if I don’t already know them. I could… be helpful.”

“That’d… that’d be great, Jack.” Bro sighs, “If there’s these bad things around here… I gotta find Alt as soon as possible. He could be in serious trouble…”

Jack nods. “I’m sure your brother can handle himself. You seem tough. I bet he is too.” He walks back around the desk and starts putting away the sleeping bag. “I bet he didn’t pop into this universe—god that sounds ridiculous but why not? Anyway he probably isn’t too far from here. I think the best bet is to walk to that town I mentioned. Even if he’s not there, you can… find somewhere to charge your phone. A-and call him.”

Bro slowly nods and makes sure he has all his stuff. “Yeah… I hope… I hope he’s okay… he’s tough but- he’s been having the worst luck in these worlds…” He holds his arm and grips it right, worry churning in his gut.

Jack pauses. He takes a deep breath. “Well, better hurry then.” He attaches the rolled sleeping bag to the duffel bag and slings it over his shoulder as he stands. “Come on. Better get moving while there’s still light.”

Chase nods, “Yeah I’ll… I’ll follow your lead.”

—————-

Alt awakens slowly, finding himself in a room with white stained walls and a single wooden door. He’s lying down. But when he tries to stand he can’t. He’s strapped to a bed with leather restraints on his wrist, ankles, chest, and waist. Besides the bed, the only other furniture in the room are two large lights, like are used in hospital operating rooms. They’re not on. But somehow the room is evenly lit.

Alt wakes up and when he tries to move- when he feels the tension of the straps- he immediately starts to panic. He starts to hyperventilate as he yanks and writhes, trying to break out of the straps. “No! No no no no! Fuck!!”

The restraints are very secure… but there’s no magic on them. If he could just calm down maybe he could—was that screaming in the distance?

Alt pauses in his panicking to hear the screaming and his blood turns cold. He tries to glitch out of the straps- hopefully whatever he got drugged with didn’t mess with his powers! Please- he needs to get out of here!

It takes a couple tries—he still feels a bit off—but eventually he reappears next to the bed in a flurry of pixels.

Alt gasps as he gets out and then feels his knees shake and he has to lean on the table. He whimpers in fear, he’s shaking so much. But- he needs to get out of here! He stumbles forward and tries to glitch outside of the room.

Again, it takes a minute. Not as long, but longer than he wants. But he soon glitches through the room’s one door and ends up in the hallway outside— And leaning against the wall with folded arms is that same… thing that dragged him in here. One hand holds a bone saw in a loose grip. The other raises, a short wave. “Guten Tag.”

Alt glitches out and stumbles against the wall, holding himself up. He stiffens as he sees the thing- there. He staggers back, heart threatening to beat out of his chest. “no- no no! G-get away from me…!” He yells and tries to push himself away from the wall, stumbling back. He-He should have grabbed a weapon or-can he reach his magic? It feels so- fuzzy. Hard to reach. Electricity crackles around him in small sparks.

It laughs, an amused chuckle like a parent watching a child try to grab something they can’t possibly reach. It doesn’t move. Just watches Alt stagger and scramble. The hallway extends to the left and the right. Left ends in a T intersection. Right ends in a pair of doors.

Alt heaves in panic. He looks between the two options in the hallway. He makes a quick decision and rushes down the right in a clumsy sprint, nearly running into the walls or tripping over his own feet. He rushes through the doors and then tries to look for something to jam against them.

Now this is an operating room. Or… is it called an operating theatre when it’s this old fashioned? The room is circular, with a table in the middle that has the same restraints as the bed Alt woke up on. Around the edges are more lights and trays of sharp instruments. There’s a sink built into the wall but it’s so rusted that it doesn’t look like the knobs will turn. A couple old fashioned wheelchairs are pushed to the side. They also have restraints. If he’s trying to jam the door, maybe… maybe the lights? Or the chairs? The trays are on wheels. Nothing looks too heavy in here…

Alt chokes on a terrified sob as he scrambles to find anything that can help him. He hurries and grabs some of the sharp instruments and then tries to push the wheelchairs up against the door.

As he does that, the doors start to open, pushing into the room. There are locks on the chairs’ wheels that prevent them from rolling, so the doors are blocked for the moment. There’s muttering on the other side. It sounds annoyed. He doesn’t have that long to prepare—!

Alt staggers back and he presses up against the farthest wall. He shakily holds out the tool he found, trying to spark it up with electricity.

The doors burst open, pushing aside Alt’s crude barricade. The stitched up thing stands there. What little Alt can see of its face is irritated, and it’s exchanged the bone saw for a syringe with a long needle. “Du kannst dich hier nicht verstecken,” it growls, approaching him.

Alt yells and then throws the electric charged scalpel at the thing. A distraction. He doesn’t even see if it hits, he then closes his eyes and tries to glitch into the overhead lights. When it doesn’t work though he jolts and looks around. There’s- there’s no overhead lights?? no no fuck-!

The scalpel leaves a small cut in the thing's chest, but that just annoys it more. As Alt stands there trying to find lights that don't exist, it lunges forward, plunging the syringe into Alt's arm. This feels different than the last time. He doesn't feel darkness pulling at him, but his body becomes more and more tired...

Alt screams out in pain and tries to push the thing away. But, his body- he’s losing strength. His knees shake and waver, threatening to give out. His head feels heavy. He chokes on a sob.

“Fuck no-! W-What do you want with me?!” He wails, clumsily hands trying to pry the creature off of him.

"Du bist so faszinierend," it says in a quiet voice, a strange note of awe in its words. It clutches tighter at Alt, dragging him over to the table in the middle of the room. "Dein Schmerz wird köstlich sein." And it pushes him onto its surface.

Alt recognizes two of those words: fascinating and pain. He yells out and tries to fight the thing as it pushes him down, even as his heavy body tries to work against him. “NO! NO LET ME GO! STOP IT!”

But his struggles are of no use. He's too weak and this creature isn't even bothered by him as it applies the straps, keeping Alt's arms spread to either side. There's even one that goes over his neck, preventing him from lifting his head without choking. The creature hums, satisfied, and then starts searching through the sharp implements around the edges of the room—

Alt sobs in terror and tries to struggle but he can barely lift his weak muscles now. He feels like his heart is gonna leap out of his chest. His lungs are working overtime, making him heave breath after terrified breath.

There's... a knock. Like a knock on a door on some other floor of a building. Where did that come from?

Alt hears the knock and tries to turn towards it but he chokes on the strap. So he shuts his eyes and screams out, “HELP!! SOMEONE HELP! PLEASE!!”

The creature raises its head, looking confused and annoyed. It stares at Alt for a long moment...... Then it sighs, disappointed, and quickly leaves the room. The double doors remain ajar but there's nothing Alt can do to reach them right now. Whatever was in that injection is making it hard to glitch.

Alt quietly cries, hating how his body won’t fight anymore. Everything is too heavy. But he’s still awake- he can’t glitch. “C-Chase… chase please w-where are you…?” He whispers to the quiet air.

Not long later, it returns. And there's someone with him. At first, Alt thinks it looks like Jackie--his friend, his friend--but there's something... off about his appearance. The doctor creature from before folds its arms and leans against the wall, while this new person walks up to Alt, looking less and less like Jackie the closer... he... gets.

Alt’s eyes flit to look at the door, and he breathes out in surprise. “J-Jackie?” But then he cuts him off with a gasp and tries to shrink away as the new figure approaches. “…w-who are you…?” He whimpers.

He--it crouches down next to the table so that it's at eye level with Alt. "Who do you want me to be?" it says. "Jackie, you said? Do you want to call me that?"

The thing by the door sighs, irritated. "Dies ist nicht die Zeit für Ihre Spiele!"

"Right, right. Sorry." It flashes a smile. "By now your brother probably knows what I'm called these days, so I'll tell you. Sangria. That's the color your blood is. I assume. I haven't seen it." Its head jerks to the side. "That's Notarzt, if you're curious."

"Hey!" The other one--Notarzt protests. "Ich habe nicht gesagt, dass du es ihm sagen darfst!"

"I-I don't... y-you're not..." Alt stammers in confusion. Then, his eyes widen as this thing- Sangria- mentions his brother. He yells and tries to push against the straps, the air around him trying to glitch. But, he can hardly move. "W-Where is he?! Did you- did you hurt Chase?!"

"I didn't get the chance to, if I'm being honest." Sangria glances back at Notarzt. "£©¥Ĩ was there. He snapped him out of it."

Notarzt stiffens slightly but says nothing.

"But here's the strange thing, Alt," Sangria continues, looking back at him. "I saw him appear out of nowhere. Notarzt said it saw you do the same thing. Why?" It lowers its voice to a whisper. "And you should probably answer. The longer I talk to you, the less time Notarzt gets with you."

Alt shudders and swallows shakily. "I...! W-we're from a-another world-! We... we jumped here- u-using a... a device and- w-we just pop up..! We were trying to go home- we didn't mean to come here-"

"Another world? Fascinating. That would explain why he could fly. You people aren't supposed to be able to do that." Sangria grins. "Let me guess... coming here was an accident? Or... you didn't know what you'd find? I don't think you'd come here if you knew. Unless you were very confident."

"Yeah I... I don't know how- how I picked this one but I... I didn't mean to-! And if.. if you let me find my brother... we- we can get out of here!" Alt pleads, weakly trying to push against the straps, "We didn't know... w-we didn't know...!"

"Do you think we want you to leave here?" Sangria gestures at Notarzt again. "It'd be perfectly happy to keep you here forever... or as long as you last." It sighs. "But it doesn't really make any difference to me. There's already billions of you. And I got bored of death a while ago. This could be something new. Do you think it'll be fun to help you leave?"

Terrified tears still fall off Alt's face as he stammers, "I...I-" He closes his eyes then whimpers out desperately, "I-I can make it fun...!" He shoulders glitch and fizzle and pop, reacting to his emotions.

It's hard to read Sangria's expression as it tilts its head.

But Notarzt seems unhappy with this whole thing. "Das hilft mir nicht, wissen Sie," it grumbles.

"Oh shush, think of this as repayment," Sangria says. "Alright. Alt, did anyone else come here besides you and your brother?"

"M-Mag... A m-magician named Magnificent...! He's here too- I.. I don't know where he is though-" He whispers, eyeing Notarzt and trying to control his shaking.

"Hmm... you don't seem to like him," Sangria says thoughtfully. It grins. "But if you're going back, then he has to go back, doesn't he? Alright." It stands up. "I can make this work. Don't worry. You and your brother and that magician will be going home."

Notarzt cries out, and Sangria hurries over to it. It says something in a quiet voice that Alt can't make out from here. Whatever it is seems to calm Notarzt, which nods.

"This won't take long," Sangria says to Alt. And without another word, it leaves the room through the double doors.

"W-WAIT!" Alt shouts after him, fighting against the straps with a new burst of terror. "I-I thought-! D-D- DON'T LEAVE ME HERE!!" He screams- and a burst of sound waves comes off him, pushing some of the medical trays and equipment back. But- it doesn't do much besides that as Alt sobs, absolutely petrified with fear.

But Sangria is already gone. Notarzt takes a moment to straighten out the equipment, then picks something up and walks over. "Sind Sie bereit?" it asks, holding up a long, thin blade.

Alt stares with wide eyes, breathing rapidly and shaking like a leaf. “n-no… no please-“

Notarzt laughs. It slowly lowers the blade, slicing through Alt's shirt. It pushes the fabric aside and takes a moment to examine things. And then it lowers the blade again and slices a pair of clean lines, tracing the shape of Alt's collarbone.

Alt bites back a scream, clawing fingers into the table below him.

It follows it up with a long line tracing down his sternum, then two more at the bottom where his ribcage ends.

Notarzt exchanges the long blade for a smaller scalpel and some sort of long needle-like object. It leans close and pokes the needle into the cuts it made, occasionally using the scalpel to... hold it open. The needle goes deep. Is it poking against the bone?

Alt does scream now, attempting to kick his feet and claws deeper into the table as he feels something poking his bones! it feels fucking awful. “S-stop- Stop!”

"Hör auf?" Notarzt looks at him, blue eye alight. "Das ist erst der Anfang." But after a while--too long of a while--it does stop, exchanging these tools for a smaller needle and some black thread. "Sie werden dafür stillhalten wollen."

Alt sobs, closing his eyes and trying to calm his breathing but all he can feel is searing pain in his numb body. He can’t help but panic.

And it doesn't end. It's a small piercing at first, and then it goes deeper, beneath the skin into the flesh and muscle. And then comes the pulling, the feeling of something passing through. This is going to take a while. And there will be more after.

Alt screams himself hoarse, screaming and writhing and crying out for his brother. “Help- HELLPPP!!” His screams echo down the hall, sometimes vibrating the walls and shaking the ceiling.

[asherranceoftheheart]

Me and My Cryptid Housemates - Drabble#1

Character/s: Marvin the Magnificent, Original Character, Jameson Jackson Genre/s: Humor Warning/s: None (Archive of Our Own Edition) Note: Hi guys so this little thing and the upcoming stuff on this little shitpost AU is a humorous sitcom AU of @crystalninjaphoenix ‘s Horrorseptics AU that you guys should really check out if you like horror and creepy stuff that’s mixed in with the JSE Egos. I’ll link most of them here just so along with whomst is whomst: Chase Brody - Misery Henrik Von Schneeplestein - Notarzt Jackieboyman - Sangria Marvin the Magnificent - Cait Coill Jameson Jackson - Ragdoll Antisepticeye - Ąŀ¶þň²Ø¡ Epilogue Go check them out and tell them how great their stories are okay? :D

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

H̨̡O̕͞͡͞W͟͝Ļ̶̛

“Why…” Skye whimpered. “Goddamnit, Cait...”

Despite plugging her head underneath her pillow, it still could not block off the god awful screeching and scratching from the roof. Skye groaned and lifted the pillow from her head to roll herself off the bed. She grabbed the bat underneath her bed and jumped onto her mattress and knocked the flat end of her metallic bat at the ceiling.

“Cait, can you PLEASE stop yowling like you’re some damned cat in heat and keep your voice down or at least move to an emptier part of the roof of the mansion that doesn’t have me sleeping underneath it? It’s three in the fucking morning and I need to sleep!” Skye yelled her lungs out to be heard over the racket that her ‘Master’ was making out there.

Her voice must have gotten through as the screaming finally stopped and what was left behind was an almost sheepish vacuum of silence. Then she heard the muffled shuffling of the creature moving elsewhere as she advised it to as its… claws? It must be claws… Its claws scratched along the surface of the roof on its migration to another spot.

“Thank you!” Skye sighed, an exasperated smile tugging up at the corner of her lips. At least Cait listens to her sometimes.

She let go of her bat and watched it roll down to the floor with a metallic thunk. She allowed her body to free fall back onto her mattress and sighed in relief at the silence.

Peace at last…

…

An old timey tune starts to play softly in the distance...

“Ragdoll can you please stop floating creepily outside of my window. You know you have your own copy of the key to the house,” Skye’s voice came out muffled through her pillow. She popped open an eye and leveled an almost lethal glare at the strung up being staring at her from her window.

Honestly… What can a poor Proxy like her do to get some decent sleep for once?!

[crystalninjaphoenix]

Unasked Directions

A Short Horror Septic Story

(Happy Almost-Halloween everybody! Here's a short horror septics for the season. This isn't as long as the very-long story entries—in fact, it's shorter than most of my usual fic chapters at 5000 words. But I think it came out good :) Stacy is lost and not sure what to do. She finds direction soon, though)

—————

Stacy was lost.

She was sick of being lost.

She’d been walking through this neighborhood for a while now. Her stomach was growling, begging for food, but there was nothing in sight except for two-story houses with fences and nice lawns. Maybe if she got desperate enough she could knock on the door of one and ask for food, but she wasn’t anywhere near that level now. Besides, it probably wouldn’t work. They would probably politely decline then shut the door.

Maybe she should be trying to find her way back to that house where she’d left Mark. That house... where she’d left John.

The memories hadn’t yet settled. All it took was her thinking about John to remember that basement. She could see him in front of her again, both begging for help and asking her to run as his body shook. That one green eye staring at her no matter where the other one looked. And then—and then—

She looked down at her arm. The bite mark was still there, though it was no longer leaking blood. Who knew human teeth could clamp down like that?

And yet, she didn’t blame him. Whatever thing had been pursuing him... it finally caught up to him. It was with him.

But not in the same way the other one was with her.

A hand rested on her shoulder. “take a break.”

Stacy shrugged it off. “I sat down for a long time, I’ve had enough.” She sat for long enough to see the sun dip close to the horizon. Out of curiosity, she looked up and searched for the sun... halfway below. It was a pretty sunset. She’d never seen one with mountains. But that meant it would be night soon, and she didn’t want to be out in the dark.

“i’d protect you,” a voice whispered, as if responding to her thoughts.

“I’ll just call Mark,” she muttered. “He can come pick me up.” She dug into her pocket and pulled out her phone, opening up her contacts and choosing Mark’s number. The phone rang... and rang... and rang... and rang...

“it’s being blocked.”

Stacy flinched. But it was right. The call didn’t go through. It didn’t even reach the answering machine. She tried to send a couple texts, but all of them were highlighted with a red “Did Not Send” exclamation mark. “Why?” she muttered.

“phone is still under its effects.”

“That... glitchy thing that’s possessing John.”

“yes.”

“Why? We’re so far away now.”

“but you were so close.” Something leaned up against her. “don’t do that. it’s scary.”

Stacy spun around, barely catching a glimpse of its face before it disappeared. “You just don’t want to lose something you put so much hard work into,” she said.

It didn’t say anything in return. Nothing audible, at least. She could have sworn she heard some mumbled words that sounded... disappointed.

“I’ll find a way out of here eventually,” she said, mostly to herself, as she turned around and started walking again. She didn’t take too many turns. And besides, the suburbs weren’t endless. If she went straight in one direction, she would get out of here. It just might take a lot of walking.

* * * * * * * * * *

“Why aren’t any of my texts sending?” Mark stared down at his phone screen. Every single one of his messages was highlighted as unsent.

“Oh, uh, th-that’ll happen sometimes,” one of the house occupants said. Rya, right? “It can affect electronics. I tried to do my schoolwork while down there once and it deleted my whole essay.”

“Oh man. That sucks.” Mark sighed and looked around. This was a nice enough living room. A bit cheap-looking, but not enough to make a difference. Hard to believe there was a creature in the basement. The four house owners—he remembered their names but they hadn’t yet sunk in as to which was which—were all in here, too. They said they’d be happy to let him stay with them while he was in town. But he declined. He’d rather find Stacy and get a hotel room. There was just one problem with that. “Where could she have gone?”

“She’s never been here before, right?” another house owner—Diane?—asked. “There’s nowhere she would go?”

“If she’s been here, she’s never told me. And she’s told me about a lot of places she’s been to.” She got chased all over fucking Europe at one point. 

“We could try driving around and looking for her,” said one of the guys—Leo? “I know you already tried but maybe you’re not familiar with the layout or something.”

“I have a very good sense of direction, actually,” Mark said. “But if you’re offering, I’d, you know, appreciate it. The more eyes out there the better.”

Eyes...

An image of a green eye flashed through Mark’s mind as he remembered what happened in the basement. Luckily, he successfully prevented the instinctive flinch. He’s had a lot of practice with that, it’s not too hard to do.

“Alright.” The last one—Michael?—clapped his hands once and headed for the front door. “I’m the one who owns the car, so I’ll be right back. I’ll do a quick sweep through the neighborhood. If I’m not back in twenty minutes and haven’t texted, be worried.” And with that, he was gone.

“So, um...” Rya shifted on her feet. “Is there... anything we can do for you?”

“Well.” Mark hesitated. There was something he wanted to do. But he wasn’t sure if it was a good idea. And in his experience, erring on the side of caution kept people alive when unnatural matters were concerned. But... god damn it, if this was a trap, he was falling for it. “I want to talk to the guy in the basement again.”

Rya and Diane exchanged surprised looks. Leo folded his arms. “Are you sure? Whatever happened last time was... W-we’d never seen anything like that happen. Not with this thing or any of the others we took care of. I don’t want to be the guy who got Markiplier killed.”

Mark laughed. It felt weird these days to hear himself referred to by his channel name. True, he was very well-known for it, but he’d been so busy with other things for the past few years that it felt more like a side business sometimes. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to stay down there for too long. And, uh... I’m pretty sure that whatever happened was... at least partially related to Stacy.” That gray thing that followed her got really upset when she was hurt. “So... I mean, I’m worried about her, but at least it... clears up a variable, I guess?”

“A bit grim, but... practical,” Diane said. “Alright. But we’re going down with you again. I’ll fucking... sit in the doorway so the door doesn’t suddenly close like before.”

“I don’t think that would keep the door from closing,” Rya said tentatively. “It actually might just... make you get locked in there.”

“Hmm. True.”

“Just wait outside again, it’s fine,” Mark said. “I’m not getting too close.”

And so they descended the stairs again. Mark took a deep breath, then opened the laundry room door and peered inside. The lights were on again. The pieces of the broken chair were scattered about the floor, coating the carpet in splintery pieces. Even the washer and dryer looked a bit dented. And right where he was before... there was the figure of a man. A man who Stacy called John. He was still except for the gentle rising and falling of his chest.

Mark hesitated. Then stepped into the room. “Good luck,” Rya whispered as the three others hung back. He nodded but said nothing.

The carpet crunched oddly with every step. Mark looked down and didn’t see anything strange at first... until he noticed a faint gleam of metal. Chips of some kind, small enough to be hidden between the fiber strands, coated the floor. Where did they come from?

He stopped well outside of John’s reach and stared at him. The rise and fall of his chest was even. That was... good. The rope around his neck had been tightened while he was struggling. That was... bad? But at least he was leaning back, not at risk of choking. One eye was closed. But that green eye was open and staring at Mark. He suppressed a shiver. “Hey,” he said quietly. “You.”

John opened his other eye. Its gaze immediately landed on Mark, and he stiffened slightly. “You’re back?” His voice was hoarse and raspy. No wonder, really. The housemates told Mark that screams and laughter kept coming from the basement for the whole time he was out driving and looking for Stacy. It only faded shortly before he returned.

“I’m back,” Mark said, careful to keep his voice clear of emotion. “And I have a question.”

A moment passed. John took a deep breath. “Okay,” he whispered. “What is it?”

Mark’s throat was suddenly dry. But he coughed and continued on. “You mentioned my friend Jack earlier.”

Immediately, John perked up, interested. He sat up as well as he was able. It was a bit difficult with his arms and legs still bound. “Yeah?” he asked, a strange emotion in his voice.

“Do you... know him?”

John laughed. Mark tensed and took a step back, one hand going to his pocket where he still had his knife. “D-do I—yeah. Y-yeah, I-I know him,” John said. “Of course I do. I’m ÞžőijĿ.”

“What?”

“I’m õ÷ĉů,” John repeated, more insistently.

Mark narrowed his eyes. It was weird that he couldn’t really understand what John was trying to say. And he didn’t trust weird things anymore. “I don’t know what you’re saying, but I don’t think it’s helpful.”

John slumped, leaning against the side of the washer. “Guess not,” he said dully.

Mark hesitated. Then he decided to continue. “What... what happened to Jack?”

“What do you think happened?”

“Wh...” Mark paused again. Should he answer that? “At first... I thought the stress was getting to him,” he said slowly. “Then I thought he was being stalked. Then... he disappeared. And I thought he ran off. And now... with everything that I’ve seen, I think something got to him. Something that... that he tried to tell the rest of us about.” Mark’s voice cracked a bit. He quickly moved on. “Something like one of you.”

John blinked, looking surprised. Then he laughed again. “You don’t think there’s a difference either...” he said quietly.

“What does that mean?” John didn’t answer the question, so Mark tried a new one. “Do you know what happened to Jack?”

John looked at him and nodded slowly.

“Is he...” He didn’t want to ask this question. But he had to have confirmation. “Is he dead?”

A moment passed. John kept staring at Mark. Then he looked away and sighed. “For all intents and purposes,” he murmured.

“What does that mean?”

“It means he can’t be saved.”

Mark’s heart dropped. He’d known that for a while. He’d known he was too late, too dismissive, too... deliberately ignorant. After all, he’d seen strange things all his life. Why was it weird when someone else did, too?

“You should get out of here,” John whispered. “Stacy, too. Just... both of you go home.” His breath hitched. “A-and more importantly... y-you should leave this room right now. Before... before it...” He was shaking slightly.

Mark didn’t say anything. He simply turned around and left.

* * * * * * * * * *

Stacy was still lost.

This was impossible. She had walked in a straight line back the way she came, how did she not recognize any of this?

Indeed, it was so impossible that she slowed her walking and really looked around. All of this was new. She’d never seen these houses before. They didn’t even look slightly familiar. And... wait a minute. When she looked behind her, there was an intersection. But she hadn’t walked across the street or turned a corner once.

This was impossible.

This was not normal.

“Are you doing this?” she whispered. “Do you not want me to go back to Mark and the others? You... you got into a fight with that thing possessing John. What, do you think it’ll still be angry with you?”

A hand on her shoulder. “it will be,” it whispered. “but this isn’t me doing this. i would not do this to you.”

Stacy frowned. She wasn’t sure if she believed it would never do something like this. But she believed that it wasn’t doing it now. Trapping people in eternal suburbs didn’t really seem to... fit with the rest of it. “Okay fine,” she muttered. “Can you... get me out of here? Like you did with that house?” She didn’t want to rely on it, but she couldn’t think of anything else. It was getting darker, and that was putting her on edge.

“i’ll try.” A pause. “go back again. turn that corner.”

Ah yes, the suddenly appearing intersection. Stacy sighs and turns back around, taking the corner.

“turn around again.”

She did. The intersection was still there.

“and back.”

She did. The houses were different.

“i understand now. walk—”

“Excuse me?”

Stacy jumped, and spun back around. The intersection was gone again, now a gently curving road. And standing on the other side of the street... was a boy. The moment he noticed her looking at him, he crossed the street. “I’m lost. Can you give me directions?”

The boy had brown hair with a poorly dyed black streak. He had blue eyes. And he had freckles. Stacy’s heart dropped at first. “Ma—” No. No, looking closer, it wasn’t Mathew. It was just... a kid around his same age, who had the same general features of him. That could be a coincidence, but given the looping suburbs... “Um, no, I’m sorry, I’m lost too.”

“Can I come with you, then?” the kid asked. “We can try to find places together.”

“Uh...” It pained a part of her to leave a kid alone. But she knew there was more to this kid than it appeared. And if she didn’t, the cautious hand on her shoulder would tell her everything she needed to know. “Sorry, I think it’s best if I just—go on my own.” She turned around—

“no, don’t!”

“Excuse me?”

Stacy spun back around. There was another kid standing next to the first one. Her heart stuttered. Dark hair, brown eyes, younger than the other—he could have been Larkin at first glance.

“So... you’re just gonna leave us?” asked the new kid.

“I’m... sure you can find your way,” Stacy said slowly. “You can ask the nice people living in these houses.”

“Why aren’t you doing that?” the first boy asked.

“Um—”

“Why are you going to leave us?” added the second.

“I-I’m not going to—” Stacy stopped herself before she finished that sentence. She shouldn’t say anything. She shouldn’t make promises.

“walk backwards.”

She jumped. “What?” she whispered.”

The grip on her shoulder tightened. “walk. backwards.”

Right. Listen to the supernatural entity that was weirdly invested in her life. Without turning around, Stacy started stepping away from the kids.

They stood there. Staring at her. “Why are you leaving us?” the first boy asked.

“You’re a grown-up, you’re supposed to protect kids,” the second said.

Stacy kept her mouth shut. Don’t engage. Don’t engage. That would probably just give them some sort of opening.

It was maddening to walk backwards, but she didn’t want to look away. She was ten feet away... twenty... thirty... 

And then the kids were running up to her.

Stacy yelped. She started to instinctively turn around but the grip on her shoulder tightened, holding her in place.

“Let us come with you!” the first one said.

“Let us be with you!” the second one said.

She tried to pick up the pace but she couldn’t run while facing backwards. The heels of her shoes were catching on sidewalk cracks. She started lifting her feet higher but that slowed her down.

The kids ran until they were within arm’s reach of her—and then, suddenly, stopped. Stacy almost stopped too, just out of shock, but no! No, she can’t stop! The sidewalk briefly dips down—she stumbled a little but kept her balance. Right, that was a spot where the curb dipped down for an intersection. She didn’t trust her backwards walking skills while crossing the street so she turned instead, slowing for a bit. The kids stayed where they were.

She kept walking. Why was her heart beating so fast? Why was it—

There was whispering behind her. Not the whispers she’d come to know. These sounded different. Harsher. She started to turn, but—

“no!” The grip tightened again. “tricks. deception.”

Stacy stiffened and stayed facing the right way. Of course. They were trying to get her to look.

“If you don’t turn around and look at me I’m going to gut you like a fish,” a voice whispered.

She didn’t turn.

“I’ll kill these children.”

“Miss, help us!”

She flinched, but didn’t turn.

“I’ll do it.”

“Please! Please, miss!” 

“We’re going to die!”

Tears started clouding her vision, but she didn’t turn around.

And then—screaming. High screaming, terrified and in pain, accompanied by meaty splattering sounds. She stopped walking, breathing heavily. Don’t turn around. Don’t turn around.

In a second, the sounds were gone.

She stood there. Listening. But there was nothing.

So she started walking backwards agai

Shrieks pierced the air. The two kids—the two things shaped like kids—came sprinting around the corner, limbs flailing, heads swinging.

“now run!”

Stacy didn’t waste time following its advice. She turned and ran—and the reason why she could was clear. The end of the neighborhood was in sight. The small road she’d been walking next to joined up to a busy street. Cars were passing by, headlights and street lamps providing a goal she could reach. Her feet pounded on the pavement as she pushed herself to reach it. It was so close!

“Don’t leave us!” the kids screamed, and they sounded so much like Mathew and Larkin.

Stacy didn’t look back. Thirty feet—twenty feet—ten—She paused for a moment, waiting for a clearing in the cars, then ran across the street in a move that would’ve made her real kids call her a hypocrite. The moment she had both feet on the opposite sidewalk, she stopped, breathing heavily. She could feel her heartbeat in her neck. Slowly, she turned and looked back across the street...

There was no one there.

“Oh thank god,” Stacy breathed. Some of these things were stuck in place, she was so glad these were one of them. Which reminded her... “How are you with me?” she asked the thing behind her. “I-I thought you were stuck in that house.”

It shifted slightly. “not now.”

“Why n—”

“it’s not over.”

A pair of voices sounded behind her. “Eexxccuussee mmee?”

Stacy froze... then slowly turned.

The kids were there. Their eyes were pitch black. “Ttaakkee uuss wwiitthh yyoouu,” they said in unison.

“Fuck!” Stacy scrambled backwards, then turned and ran.

“TTAAKKEE UUSS WWIITTHH YYOOUU!!”

She didn’t look behind her. She kept running down the street. Past the empty lot that was across from the neighborhood, reaching a parking lot that was near empty, running past that, approaching a small strip mall lined with shops and the occasional restaurant. She could hear little feet behind her. She could hear little lungs breathing. They were getting closer. They were getting closer. They were getting closer, she had to get somewhere safe! 

The first store she reached was a small coffee shop. She didn’t recognize the name, something local, maybe, but this wasn’t the time! She reached for the door before she was even in arm’s length of it—

The door opened first.

She stopped. Behind her, the little steps stopped, too.

There was... something... standing in the doorway. It was hard to describe. Thin. Bony, even. And wearing a red hoodie with the hood pulled up. She couldn’t identify the features, but she knew what this was. “Jacqueline?” she whispered.

It grinned. “Been a while, Stacy.” Then it looked past her, at the little things behind her. It took a step forward, letting the shop door close behind it. “Why don’t you... run along? You’re too new for this.”

“Yyeess msaiarm!” The words blended together, ‘sir’ and ‘maam’ overlapping. Stacy glanced back and saw two kids—that did not resemble her sons in the least—scrambling back and running away.

Stacy slowly turned back around, staring at the thing that had once pretended to be her friend. “What are you doing here?” she whispered.

“Looking for you two,” it said, eyes flicking over her shoulder once more.

Her stomach dropped. “Was that—was that planned?! Like with that weird house?!”

“No... but it’s lucky.” It shrugged. “Now. You’re confused, right? You’ve probably been wondering for a while why we’re going to such lengths to follow you everywhere. Well... come inside.” Its head jerked back to the shop’s door behind it. “I’ll explain everything.”

Stacy hesitated. Like hell she wanted to follow this thing anywhere, to do anything it wanted her to do. But... there was a hand on her shoulder. And it was grinning at her, staring. It could go anywhere, right? Wouldn’t it just... find her again? “Fine,” she said tiredly.

“Thank you.” The thing in the red hood turned around and headed back into the shop. A bell dings as it pushes the door open. Stacy trails after it, looking around the cafe. There’s a table running along one wall with tall chairs. A small sitting area with coffee tables and leather sofas. No traditional tables or booths. Faint pop music plays in the air. It’s almost... cozy. Until Stacy looks into the decorative mirror behind the counter and sees the gray thing lurking behind her. She shivers.

“Go sit down,” says the thing in the red hood. “I’ll order for us.”

“...okay.” She probably doesn’t have much choice, does she? Besides, her stomach is growling with the scent of coffee shop pastries in the air. She drifts over to the nearest sofa and sits down.

The leather squeaks slightly. She feels something heavy get onto the sofa.

“hey.”

It sat down next to her.

Stacy doesn’t look in that direction. Instead, she concentrates on looking out the glass storefront. “Why me?” she whispered. “Why did you... latch onto me? Why not anyone else who lived in that house before me?”

Silence for a moment. “we’re alike,” it said..

“No, we’re not.”

“don’t lie.”

Stacy went quiet. No use arguing.

After a minute or two, the thing in the red hood is back. “Here we are,” it said cheerfully, setting down a coffee cup and two paper pastry bags on the coffee table in front of her. “You looked hungry.” It sat on the sofa across from hers. There was another cup in its hand, but it wasn’t drinking. “Probably best to say thank you right now. Bad manners can get you killed.”

“Is that a threat?” Stacy asked, feeling uncharacteristically bold.

It smiled. “No. I’d never do that. But others would.”

Stacy stared at it for a second. She tried to describe its features in her mind, but all she could come up with was... two eyes above a nose above a mouth. And that was no help at all. She sighed. “Thank you,” she mumbled, looking inside the pastry bags. A croissant and a chocolate muffin. And the drink was a mocha latte with whipped cream. Her usual order. She picked up the croissant and took a couple bites as it stared at her. Then she swallowed. “You said you would explain everything.”

“Well, that was a bit of an exaggeration.” The smile widened. Could smiles go that far? “Not everything. But I’ll explain what we want.”

Stacy laughed. “I think your friend has made it clear what it wants from me.” The weight on the sofa next to her shifted. “I’m supposed to... stay with it, right?”

“Misery loves company,” it said idly.

“I feel like you... people... say that a lot.”

“Because it’s true. Misery—” It pointed at the spot next to her. “—loves company. Of any kind. Living... or not. Sometimes not is easier.”

Stacy paused. “Misery,” she repeated. The weight shifted again. Something was pressing against her. “Is... is that your name?”

“close enough.”

“I-I didn’t know you... had... names.”

“We need to be referred to somehow,” the thing in the red hood said. “These days I like being Sangria.”

“Sangria,” Stacy repeated. She took a deep breath. “Alright, Sangria. If... if I already know what you want with me, why shouldn’t I leave right now?” It was a bluff. She didn’t think they would let her.

Sangria chuckled, like it knew she was bluffing and found it amusing. “Because there’s so much more going on than what you think,” it said. “Like, what’s happening with your friend ŧģùõIJ. Oh, sorry, you call him John, don’t you?”

Stacy stiffened. “What do you... Wh-what do you mean?” She stammered. “Is there... more going on?”

“I’ll assume you figured some things out.” Sangria raised the coffee cup, but still didn’t drink, just swirled it around. “You know that John was claimed—though, not in the same way as you. You know he went back to it to protect you and your kids. You know it’s with him now, don’t you?”

Stacy nodded slowly. She looked at the window again. Rain was starting to fall. Slowly, one droplet at a time.

“The one with John is too powerful.”

“Too powerful?” Stacy repeated, confused.

“it’s so new,” misery whispered in her ear.

“New?” Stacy paused. “You mean... young?”

“No, but if that helps you understand it,” Sangria said. “Usually the older ones are stronger. With some exceptions. But even those exceptions grow their power slowly.” It nodded at the spot next to Stacy. She felt the weight against her shift. “ø¡Œ©ŗ is growing strong fast. And that’s worrying.”

Stacy laughed. “What? Afraid it’ll come after you?”

Sangria stared at her until she stopped laughing.

“You... you... are,” Stacy whispered. “You’re scared of whatever’s got a hold of John.”

“It’s shown many times that it doesn’t care how strong you are,” Sangria said quietly. “Because it is stronger. Or... it will be. Soon. It’s a bit of a copycat. We’ve been stuck for so long, wondering but not coming up with an idea that could work... until it claimed John.”

“Why?” Stacy clenched her coffee cup tightly. “Are you—are you going to use him?” Why did she even bother to ask? These things didn’t care about human life or wellbeing. That was clear by now. Of course they were going to use him. “How? Wh-what are you going to do?”

Sangria smiled and said nothing.

“Y-you can’t just—you said you would explain!” she cried.

“And I did. I’m sorry you don’t like the explanation.” Sangria laughed. “Don’t worry... you’ll be fine. And so will your kids.”

“I-I don’t just care about me and my kids! John is my friend!”

“You don’t even know his name.”

“I—he’s never told me!” Stacy said defensively.

It laughed again. “He has. But you’re right. That’s not fair. It’s not his fault he was ĒŴÔľñêāŷŀÁëÀĘŞÞéŖ¸Õ. It’s »śÎÇ’s fault. Which is why you want to stop it, right? To help your friend?”

“I...” Stacy did want to help John. She couldn’t deny that. But... “If you get him killed... How is that helping?” she whispered.

“sometimes dying is better.”

She shuddered. “No... i-it never is.”

“you didn’t always think that.”

“Shut up!” She spun to look at the thing next to her. Its blackened, dripping eyes were inches from her face. And then it disappeared. But... the weight on the sofa didn’t. It merely shifted farther away.

“John, as you call him, has been through a lot,” Sangria said. “Maybe he would agree.”

“Sh-shut up, he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t.” She wasn’t sure how she knew that so strongly, but she knew it.

Sangria shrugged. “Alright. We’ll see if he can make it out of it alive.”

Stacy swallowed a lump in her throat. It was no use arguing this. “What about me? What... what part am I going to play?”

“He’s your friend. You’re his. You help each other. You’re going to help him do what he has to.”

“And what is that?”

“Well, we can’t tell you that,” Sangria said patiently, as one would be when explaining something to a grumpy child. “What if Ą®Ùßũ knew what you were thinking? It’s very good at getting inside like that. Just listen to Misery. Alright? It’s trying to help.”

“N-no, you can’t expect me to—to go with whatever you want!” Stacy tried to stand up defiantly—but a hand on her shoulder brought her back down. Its grip was tight in a way it had never been before.

Sangria stood up instead. “Thanks for the coffee,” it said, setting the cup down on the table. Then it turned and walked out the front door. The bell should have chimed. It didn’t.

Stacy stared down at the cup on the table. Out of curiosity, she reached forward and picked it up. It was empty. Had it been the whole time? Or had it been drained without Sangria drinking a single drop? She didn’t think there was a way to tell.

Then her phone chimed.

Where are you? It was from Mark.

Stacy texted the name of the coffee shop. It’s in a strip mall somewhere, I dunno where exactly. Sorry. I can check the address if you want.

A moment passed. Then: I’m close.

Stacy raised her eyebrows in surprise. Well... maybe this strip mall wasn’t too far from the house, then. Good. She could wait. Hopefully the shop wouldn’t close soon and she could wait here for Mark instead of walking out into the now-pouring rain.

She stared at the pastries and coffee on the table. Her stomach growled. As much as she didn’t want to eat or drink anything that one of these... horrors brought her... she was too hungry not to. And maybe it was a foolish thought, but she couldn’t help but feel they wouldn’t do anything to her. Not after... whatever plan they had in mind. Granted, Sangria could have been lying, but... but nothing. She was just really hungry.

After she finished the croissant and had about half the coffee left, she got another text: I’m closer.

Well... that was worrying. Was this... actually Mark? Or was it...?

Stacy glanced around. The coffee shop was empty except for her and the employees. But she didn’t know those employees, did she? What if they weren’t human? No, no. As she looked at them, she got flashes of their lives. All the bad parts. All extremely human. But that didn’t mean she was safe.

What about the phone itself? It had a camera, what if that glitchy thing could see though it? Quickly, she shoved the phone into her pocket. Good. But what about other people’s phones?

God, was this how John had been living for years? How did he get through it without losing his mind?

...Did he get through it?

Her text tone went off. Slowly, she took the phone out again. I’m here.

Here?! Where?! Who was here?! Quickly, she stood up, glancing around for somewhere to hide. Nowhere! There was nowhere. She ran forward. Maybe—yes, that plant in the corner was the best idea—at least if she didn’t want to jump over the counter—Could she jump over the counter? The employees would only mind if she was wrong—

The front door’s bell chimed. Stacy whirled to look at—Mark. It was Mark. Definitely him. She was getting the same flashes of memory as before when she looked at him. “Hey,” he said. “I, uh... noticed you standing in here looking around... I parked out here. Right in front. So you wouldn’t get wet, you know, from the rain.”

Stacy laughed. “Yeah, yeah. I—yeah. Thanks.” She walked over to him.

“Everything... okay?” Mark asked.

She took a deep breath. “A lot happened. Uh... did you send these texts?” She showed him.

“Oh yeah.”

“Why’d you make them so ominous?!”

“They’re not ominous! I was close!”

She laughed again. “You were, you were. It didn’t take you too long to get here.” The laughter faded. “Let’s... go. I’ll explain everything on the way.”

Mark nodded, and the two of them walked out to the car.

As soon as Stacy got inside, she looked down at the spot in between the two front seats... and saw her coffee cup and her muffin in the cupholders.

“you forgot them,” a voice whispered behind her.

It would’ve been thoughtful in other circumstances. As it was now, as she could feel was a chill of fear crawling down her spine.

[crystalninjaphoenix]

I love all your AUs! If you don't mind, could you say what all the Horror Septics look like? I know you probably said it before, but I just want to be sure

Aw thank you! I'm glad you enjoy them ^-^ Hmm, been a while since I wrote Horror Septics, I should probably get to that sometime.

Anyway, I like keeping things vague in my horror writing so that your imagination can fill in the details! In my experience, the things your brain comes up with are probably scarier than any detailed description, though, of course, details do have a place in horror. But I'll give out vague general descriptions, since it has been a while since I did that.

Misery is similar to Distorter from my Switch AU in a vague way. They both have a gray color scheme and dark eyes. But Misery is generally darker, with black tear tracts leaking from its eyes. I've played with the idea of small holes in its skin, just to give nightmares to those with trypophobia. It's covered in a fine layer of dust and often has a sharp, head-swimming smell about it. But it's hard to get details of Misery since it always disappears if you look directly at it.

Sangria's appearance is pretty fluid. It always fits the general description of a person with long dark hair who wears a red hoodie/jacket/coat/hat of some sort, but all other details depend on the person, often looking like the most generic yet trustworthy person someone can think of. Its true form is thin and bony, dry like old firewood, the hood pulled up to hide all of its face except the mouth. Anyone who looks at its face without the hood will flee in terror. Though it's not scary. It's just... wrong.

Notarzt's face is also hidden, though it's the lower half instead, wearing a surgical mask to hide its mouth. No one knows what's under that. Maybe it doesn't come off. The eyes are bloodshot, and I have a distinct image of one being sewn shut but that's not necessarily canon. All sorts of stitches and stable cover its body and clothes. All of them lined with red, even the ones on the clothes. The white coat it wears is red on the inside and strangely thick.

Cait Coill is tall, and it's mostly hidden in shadow or behind the fog that always follows it around. Most of its body is hidden beneath some sort of cloak or cape, and the upper half of its face is behind a white mask that looks a bit like a cat skull, with the addition of pointed ears. It's always smiling. And when it reaches out, its hands are clawed.

Ragdoll is, well, doll-like. There are strings attached to its wrists and ankles that it uses to move around, since its legs don't work properly anymore. The joints are visible, like a pose-able artist mannequin. Its eyes are swirling spirals of varying colors.

ÁČľĿ§ä¿Ž also has a fluid appearance, looking like its target or the people close to it. Static and pixels cause its limbs to jitter, blood leaking from the spots where the white noise digs in. There are always many eyes, with green scleras and black irises. Not necessarily in the face. Sometimes it mashes together details of people it's seen, a strange overlapping of form. Really, go crazy go wild with this one. As long as you keep in mind its glitchy, bloody nature and the eyes that follow it.

[crystalninjaphoenix]

Aaaaaaaaadgklsdhkjldgk That’s amazing!! They look so cool Ghostly! I love it!

Horror Septics AU: Starring John and Stacy!

Thank you to @crystalninjaphoenix for the awesome au and the go ahead to draw their characters! if you haven’t checked this au out before, highly recommend!

[crystalninjaphoenix]

Guess who's figured out how to do polls? :D So of course the first question I ask is...

Just enough options ot over all of my AUs hdjfsklhjkl

[crystalninjaphoenix]

The Nodus Tollens of John and Stacy

A Horror Septic Story

(It’s back! Wow, it’s back! I don’t write these stories often, but when I do, they’re twice the length of my usual stuff XD Anyway. It’s been a while. Stacy discovered that Mark and Amy are aware of the strange things going on, and enlists their help to find John. And maybe help HER as well. Things are changing with her. She doesn’t like the whispers in her ear...)

—————

It was a lovely morning outside. The sun hung in the bright blue sky, shining down without a single cloud to block its rays. But it wasn’t hot, thanks to a small breeze blowing through the streets. It would be a nice day to go for a walk or do some other outdoor activities. Stacy was almost disappointed that she was going to be in a car all day.

“When are you gonna be back, Mom?” Larkin asked, holding her hand. They stood on the sidewalk in front of Mark’s house, with Mathew nearby as well. Mark stood by the car parked on the road, talking with Amy.

“I’m not sure, pumpkin,” Stacy said gently. “We don’t really have a clear destination in mind.”

A week had passed since Stacy had told Mark and Amy about all the strange things that had happened to her family—and they, in turn, had told her they already knew quite a lot about the strange things in the world. Meaning a week had passed with Stacy constantly feeling something over her shoulder, seeing it flicker in the corner of her eyesight. A week had passed with Larkin not quite looking his mom in the eyes, since those eyes now appeared different to him, with his ability to see things as they were. She tried to be gentle with him. It would be shocking for any kid, after all. But she couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed—and more than a little angry at the thing that did this.

Mark and Amy had tried to help her. Of course they did. They gave her things to drink and eat, told her to chant passages from books in their secret room, even once had her stay down there overnight, circling the sofa she slept on with some weird yellow powder. But nothing worked. They explained that there was no one cure-all for these things, no magic banishing spell that would get the whisper in her ear to go away. Just because their usual methods were falling flat didn’t mean that she was stuck with this thing.

But she didn’t have much hope. Mark had admitted to being similarly haunted by one of these... creatures... for years now. And they hadn’t found a way to get rid of that, so Stacy doubted they would find a way to get rid of this. She tried not to think about that, though. It was a big world. There had to be some way, right?

“Do you really think you’ll be able to find him?” Mathew asked, edging a bit closer to Stacy and Larkin.

“I think we will,” Stacy said, nodding. “But it might be... difficult. And it might take a while.”

“So that’s why we’re staying here,” Mathew said. This wasn’t new to him or Larkin. He was just repeating it to make it more real.

After a week of failure to get rid of the thing constantly lurking around her, Stacy told Mark and Amy to stop, and asked them for help with something else. She wanted to find John. He had disappeared about a month ago, after that weird glitchy thing had attacked them. And she’d been worried about him ever since... but hadn’t done anything about it. That wasn’t her fault. It was hard to find someone even when you didn’t take supernatural problems into account. She probably wouldn’t have been able to find him before.

But things were different now. Mark and Amy had talked it over, and decided that they might have a way to locate him. It was a bit risky, but Stacy had still agreed. She wanted to know what happened to John. If he needed help, she would be there. It was the least she could do after how many times John had helped her and the boys.

So, here they were. About to go on a cross-country trip to destinations unknown. Amy had offered to stay behind with Mathew and Larkin—Stacy knew this would be dangerous, and she refused to put them in any more danger than they’d already been exposed to. So it would be just her and Mark, driving along roads for however long it took to find John.

“You can call me whenever you want,” Stacy said to Mathew and Larkin. “I have my phone, and Mark has his. If you don’t know how to call or don’t want to, you can always ask Stacy.” Mathew was still a bit uneasy using his phone, and Larkin didn’t have one.

“I know, Mom,” Mathew said. Larkin nodded.

“Good.” Stacy nodded back. “I’ll... I can call you, if you want.”

“Call us every night!” Larkin shouted. “Promise!”

“I promise I’ll call you every night,” Stacy said with a faint smile. “If nothing stops me. And nothing will.”

Larkin leaned into her and wrapped his arms around her, squeezing her in a hug. She squeezed him back. After a moment, Mathew joined in, though he was more just leaning into the hug than actively squeezing like the others. The three of them stayed there for a moment, feeling each other breathe. Then Mathew backed away, and Stacy let go, and Larkin leaned back.

“I’ll be back before you know it,” Stacy said. “And that’s a promise, too.”

“Goodbye, Mom,” Mathew said.

“Goodbye,” Larkin repeated sadly.

“Goodbye for now,” Stacy said, and walked on over to the car where Mark and Amy were waiting. She locked eyes with Amy. “Please take care of them.”

“I will,” Amy assured her. “Don’t worry.”

“I wrote up some notes last night and left them on the kitchen counter—”

“Yeah, I saw.” Amy smiled at her. She put a hand on Stacy’s shoulder and gave it a little pat. “Focus on finding your friend, and I’ll have your kids ready for when you come back.” She looked at Mark. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

“Wha—?!” Mark puffed his chest, indignant. “Is that what you’re going to say to me before I leave to track down someone using a cursed object?”

“You’ve done some stupid stuff,” Amy said. But she was smiling. “I love you,” she added, leaning closer. The two of them hugged, and gave each other a quick kiss. “Be careful.”

“I will,” Mark said. “Promise.” He looked at Stacy. In one hand, he was holding an old shoe box, which he handed to her. “Ready to go?”

“Ready,” Stacy said.

The two of them got into the car, Mark driving, Stacy as a passenger. Outside, Amy walked back over to the boys. Stacy could see them talking, but couldn’t hear what they were saying.

Well. Better get an early start. She looked down at the shoebox in her lap and opened it. Inside, looking totally out of place in the cardboard container, was an old, beautiful necklace. It was mostly silver, ornate circular carvings the size of a thumbnail hanging off a silver chain. They got larger and more elaborate as they neared the center, where an oval gem the size of a palm rested in a silver frame made to resemble rope curling around it. The gem was black with the slightest tint of purple, perfectly smooth and reflective.

Stacy took a deep breath. “So, I just put it on?”

“Yeah,” Mark said. “Well, once you touch it you should feel a compulsion to put it on anyway, but same thing.”

“How reassuring.”

“Hey, I just thought we should be clear on how this works.” Mark looked at her. “Make sure you’re thinking about finding your friend when you touch it, otherwise this might screw up.”

“I got it.” Stacy nodded. She stared down at the necklace, then reached into the shoebox and grabbed the chain. Without giving herself too much time to test the limits of whatever compulsion would start soon, she undid the clasp and put the necklace on.

Mark stared at her, waiting and tense. “Well, uh... how do you feel?”

“The same,” Stacy said. She closed her eyes, assessing herself. There wasn’t much difference. Except... “We need to go that way.” She pointed forward out the windshield. 

“Alright, good thing we’re already facing that way.” Mark shifted the car into gear and pulled into the street.

The necklace was something he and Amy had confiscated a while ago. It was supposed to tell the wearer how to fulfill any goal they were thinking of when they put it on. All fine and well, except the necklace would choose the quickest way regardless of morals. And once put on, it couldn’t be taken off until the goal was reached. Difficult when the wearer’s goal was something obscure like “I want to be happier” or something that depended on others, like “I wish this girl liked me.” Therein lay the risk. Until they found John, Stacy wouldn’t be able to stop looking for him.

She felt something rest on her shoulder. i can help if you want it off.

A shiver crawled across her skin and she shrugged her shoulders until the weight disappeared. Mark glanced at her. Then glanced at something behind her. “It’s still there, huh,” she said drily.

“I’m used to it by now,” Mark reassured her. “Seen weirder.”

“Yeah I bet you have.” Like that time he and Stacy looked into some strange rumors south of here and came across a tunnel in the side of a hill with a light at the distant end. The tunnel seemed to get narrower and narrower, and Amy probably would have kept going after the light if Mark hadn’t pulled her back.

Had Mark told her that story? Or had Amy? She couldn’t quite remember.

Not important right now. Stacy looked out the car window and saw Mathew and Larkin, standing on the sidewalk, quickly shrinking into the distance. They were waving after them. She rolled down her window and waved back, not stopping until they were completely out of sight.

She would come back to them.

we will.

Another shiver.

* * * * * * * * * *

When they approached a highway on-ramp, Stacy told Mark to take it. He asked her when they would get off, and she didn’t have an answer. She just knew that if they wanted to find John, they had to take the highway. And when they had to take an exit, she would know that, too. But for now, she just had a feeling about the highway.

TAround noon, Mark asked her again if it was time to get off. She said no. So they kept going. He asked every hour or so, and she said no every time. Once it got dark, he put his foot down. “We’ve been driving all day, Stacy,” he said. “We haven’t stopped to eat, and we’ll need to sleep soon. I’m getting off the highway now. There’s a town coming up, they probably have some place that’s open late.”

A feeling curled around her stomach, a sense of discomfort that made her grit her teeth. “Fine,” she said. “We’ll eat and sleep, and then in the morning we’ll stock up on food so we can eat in the car and keep driving.”

Mark glanced at her. “Is that the necklace talking?”

“I... think it is,” Stacy said slowly. Now that she was thinking about it, why didn’t she ask to stop to eat earlier? She was starving. “Oh god. This is strong.”

“But at least it’s a little flexible,” Mark said. “Though I think it’ll get worse over time, if what we found out about it is true.”

“How do you find all this weird stuff?” Stacy asked.

Mark shrugged. “Once you’re involved, things tend to find you. I don’t know if it’s a weird synchronicity or if they’re all actually looking for you, but that’s how it is.”

“Synchronicity?”

“Yeah, you know, like how sometimes things seem to be related but they really aren’t. Like, what if you’re driving, and you stop under a street light, and then it goes out? You might think that you somehow made that happen, but that’s probably not the case, it’s probably just a coincidence. Or like how you hear about a certain brand of car in an ad, and all of a sudden you start seeing that car brand everywhere. They were probably always there, but you’re just noticing now.”

“Oh. Huh.” Stacy stared out the car window. “I think I get what you mean.” If only all the supernatural stuff that had happened to her and the kids were a series of coincidences. No, she knew it was all planned from the moment they moved into that house. It was all because the thing she could see in the window reflection wanted to get to her. And now it had. “Congratulations,” she muttered.

“What?” Mark asked.

“Nothing.” Stacy blinked, and the extra face behind her disappeared in the window reflection.

* * * * * * * * * *

They were on the road almost immediately the next day. Stacy didn’t get much sleep in the hotel room. Maybe she didn’t get any at all. Between the uncomfortable feeling of “You should be moving right now!” that the necklace instilled, and the faint whispers of the thing at the foot of her bed, it was hard to settle down. Mark did indeed stop at a supermarket to buy a bunch of food, as she requested, but even with that slight delay they were still driving by 7:30 am.

An hour later, Mark asked, “So does the necklace tell you how much farther to go?”

Stacy shook her head. “It’s just this feeling of ‘keep going keep going! Holy shit keep going!’ It’s really... It sucks.” She’d been on edge all day, and there wasn’t much to do in the car to relieve that. “I can’t imagine how it would feel if I didn’t know the necklace was doing this. I’d probably develop an anxiety disorder really quick.”

Mark gave a dark chuckle. “Yeah, that fits with what Amy and I heard.”

“You guys have been doing this for years now, right?” Stacy asked. “Have you ever... saved anyone?”

A moment passed. “Yeah,” Mark finally said. “Our little group’s saved some people. Probably a lot.” He took a deep breath. “Not everyone, though.”

Stacy nodded. That made sense. It was like how they recovered this very necklace. They’d realized someone had bought it online and gone on several wild goose chases trying to desperately track down the buyer, only for them to finally find her just in time for her funeral. The family said she’d worked herself to death.

When had Mark told her that story? Had it been when he and Amy first told Stacy about the possible risks of using the necklace? Must have been.

“You’re really brave, you know,” Stacy said quietly. “Amy, too. And all your friends who look for this stuff. I can’t imagine actively looking for these monsters and—and cursed objects, or whatever they are.” She laughed drily. “I’ve been spending the last year doing the opposite.”

“Well, if you ask me, that’s brave, too,” Mark said. “It takes a lot of mental strength to keep going after experiencing some of this stuff. And you didn’t even have people to talk to about it. Well, except for John.”

“Honestly, I didn’t talk to him as much as I probably should have,” Stacy said quietly. Again, she turned to stare out the car window. Her reflection wasn’t as visible in daylight as it had been last night. “But I mean, seriously. You just keep throwing yourself at this, no matter what happens. Like, if it was me, I probably would have quit after seeing that shadow doppelganger.”

“...what?”

“You know, that shadow doppelganger that was following you everywhere a couple years ago. The one you saw everywhere no matter where you went, even in your backyard, and Amy couldn’t see it. It wasn’t a solid person, more wispy, but it was definitely you, just a bit darker. And it didn’t cast a shadow and that really freaked you out. Especially when it started getting closer and closer—”

“Stacy.”

“Hmm?” Stacy turned back to look at Mark. He was staring at her, his eyes wide... in horror. “What?”

“How do you know about that?” Mark asked quietly.

Stacy blinked. “You... told me, didn’t you?”

“When?”

“I don’t know. Some time in the last week?” Stacy couldn’t remember exactly. “Maybe Amy told me.”

“When?” Mark repeated. He was so focused on her that Stacy was actually a bit worried about staying on the highway.

“Hey, eyes on the road,” she said, trying to sound lighthearted.

“It’s on cruise control and this is a straight stretch. Stacy, when did you hear this story?”

“I... don’t... remember,” Stacy stammered. “But you must’ve told me at some point—you or Amy o-or someone. I definitely remember the whole story. The shadow doppelganger always disappeared when you tried to approach it, a-and as the days passed it always appeared closer to you. One time you looked out the window by the couch and saw it standing right up against the glass.” Mark tensed, but she kept going, the words still coming. “And you couldn’t find any stories about it or anything, and that was really starting to freak you out. Not to mention that some of your friends were telling you that you did some things that you didn’t remember. But they always said that these things were really nice, like giving presents for no reason or going to the movies together.”

“Stacy, how do you know this?” Mark whispered.

“I don’t know! I just—I just know it!” Stacy racked her brain, trying to figure out where she heard all this. But she couldn’t find the memory of hearing about these events, just the memories of the events themselves. “A-and one day, you asked it what it wanted, and it actually responded for the first time, its voice was yours but strangely echoing and it hurt your ears. And it said that it wanted what you had, and it was going to get it no matter what. But you couldn’t find any information about this shadow, and nothing you tried to get rid of it was working, and it was looking more and more solid—until finally, you and Amy were checking out an old movie theater that was supposed to be a site of supernatural stuff, and you got separated, and you found her with it, a-and you fought, and Amy had luckily thought to take a gun to check out the theater, because that’s always useful, but she could see both of you and she couldn’t tell you apart, and you were afraid she wouldn’t listen to you, but she did, and she shot the other one, and you watched your own face dissolve into shadow—”

Mark was staring at her in horror. The car started to drift to the side. But Stacy couldn’t stop talking.

“—And you thought that was that, but one day, you were alone in your recording room setting things up, and you had another one of those dreams where you were spirited away by that thing that looked like a guy with a mustache but had the proportions and face all wrong, but—but this time, it wasn’t alone. This time, the shadow doppelganger was there, too, and you could tell there were other things moving in the darkness at the edges of the room, and you realized you weren’t supposed to be there hearing what they were talking about, but you don’t remember what they said, probably because the one with the mustache shot you in the face and you woke back up again—”

Finally, Mark snapped into action. He looked forward and jerked the steering wheel to the side. Stacy shrieked in surprise, and for a moment she thought they would crash, but Mark regained control easily. He turned to look at her again. “I never told anyone about that dream,” he said quietly. “Not even Amy. You shouldn’t know that. H-how... do you know that?”

“I don’t know,” Stacy said quietly. She was trembling slightly, a slight shudder all over her body.

Something was on her shoulder. No, something was holding both her shoulders.

keep going. more.

“Stacy, are you okay?” Mark asked slowly. “You went white.”

Stacy stared at Mark. And she started to remember more things about him. Things that she shouldn’t know about, things that she never could have heard about. She remembered injuries, hospital visits, heartaches— “Pull over.”

“What?”

“Pull over!” Stacy screamed. “I need to get out of here!”

“Okay! Fuck!” Mark scanned the road ahead. “That sign says there’s a rest stop in a couple miles, can you wait until then?”

She laughed. “Sounds like I have to!” She bent over, seatbelt digging into her chest, and put her head in her hands. Mark was right next to her. She couldn’t look at him. Couldn’t think about him. She was starting to remember things that she definitely shouldn’t, feeling sadness for events that had never happened to her and grief for people she’d never even heard of. God, she was remembering Mark’s thoughts. Breathe deeply. Focus on anything else—anything else.

It was behind her. It was so much more than a lingering presence—she could feel its nails digging into her skin. “you don’t like it?” The words were more than a whisper, a hushed voice in her ear that sounded strangely disappointed.

“I’m pulling over now,” Mark said. Indeed, she could feel the car turning and slowing, the texture beneath the wheels going from smooth highway asphalt to cracked road.

The car stopped moving. She immediately undid her seatbelt and flung the door open, almost falling to the ground. But she stumbled and regained her balance and broke into a run. No one was in sight at the little rest stop building, but there were other cars. She didn’t bother to look at them.

Her feet carried her into the building, and her eyes showed her where the bathroom was. She ran inside. It was a small room with a single toilet, no stalls. That was fine. Ideal, even. She bent over the toilet and tried to throw up, but nothing would come. Just dry gags. That still quelled the sudden nausea, and she got to her feet, staggering over to the the sink. Deep breaths. Deep breaths. She turned on the sink to the coldest setting and splashed the water into her face.

The cold was shocking, so she did it again. And again and again, until she was spluttering and couldn’t open her eyes without getting water in them. Deep breaths. Focus on deep breaths.

For a moment, she just stood there, gripping either side of the sink. Eyes closed, chest heaving. She wiped her eyes with her arm, clearing enough of the water to see where the paper towels were. Then she grabbed a few to wipe away the rest of the water.

It was fine. It was fine now. She could still remember those things about Mark’s life when she tried, but no new memories were forcing their way into her head. Okay... Maybe the freaking out didn’t help back there. Maybe... maybe she could figure out some way to avoid that happening again.

Stacy lowered the paper towels from her face and stared into the mirror. There it was. Standing behind her, dark tears dripping down its face. She could see it now, but she knew that the moment she turned around, it would disappear. “Why?” she whispered.

“a gift.”

“I don’t want a gift!” she screamed. “And definitely not—not one like that!”

“then don’t use it.”

“How?!”

“don’t think about it.”

“Don’t think about it?!” Laughter bubbled out of her chest. “Do you know how hard it is to not think about something when it keeps—keeps shoving itself in your face?!”

“because you were thinking about it.” In the mirror, it leaned closer. She could feel something brush against the back of her shirt. “i thought you would like it. even if you don’t, it will help.” And then she blinked, and it was gone.

Stacy stared into the mirror for a moment more. Then, almost without thinking, she turned and left the bathroom, heading in a straight line back outside and towards the car.

Mark was standing by the open driver’s side door, looking concerned as she approached. Stacy didn’t look directly at him. “Everything... fine?” he asked hesitantly.

“Relatively speaking,” Stacy said, opening the passenger’s door and climbing in.

Mark got back into the car and started it. “How—”

“It seems like this thing’s given me some kind of—of gift,” Stacy said. “I don’t know what exactly, or how it works, but... I know stuff about you now.” She paused, and added awkwardly, “Some of it’s... private.”

Mark didn’t say anything for a while. “Do you want to... uh, talk about it?”

“Not right now. Let’s just go.”

“Alright, if you say so.” Mark started the car.

Stacy paused. “Can we put on some music? Loud music, preferably?”

“Sure. No problem.”

They merged back onto the highway and drove in complete silence.

* * * * * * * * * *

It only took another hour and a half before Stacy felt the urge to take the next off-ramp. She told Mark, and he did as she said. Their car merged into the streets of a city, and the necklace urged her to head straight down one road. The buildings grew taller and taller, and a nervous energy propelled her to fidget more and more. They approached a park, and she pointed at a nearby building. “We need to go in there.”

“Got it.” Mark nodded. “The library, huh? There’s bound to be parking nearby.”

Stacy nodded back silently. She looked very pale. Glancing out the window, her eyes landed on a woman waiting at a bus stop. And she remembered how that woman had caught her husband cheating on her with a work friend, and how he dragged out the divorce proceedings to bleed her of all she was worth. She had never seen that woman before, but now she remembered this as if the woman told her the story herself.

They parked in an underground garage, in a spot close to the elevator. There was a group of three teenage boys waiting by it. Stacy glanced at them, and remembered how they had gone snowboarding last year and one of them had crashed, breaking his leg. “Can we take the stairs?” she asked Mark in a hushed voice.

He looked at her with an expression of mixed confusion and sympathy. “Yeah. Of course we can.”

They took the stairs to the street level and walked in through the library’s front door. Stacy glanced around as they entered, taking in the surroundings but trying not to look directly at any of the patrons or staff. She couldn’t avoid it entirely, though. An elderly couple suddenly stood up, the movement drawing her attention, and as she caught a glimpse of them she remembered a recent funeral for a lifelong friend of theirs.

“Stacy, are you okay?” Mark asked. “You’re white as a ghost.”

Stacy swallowed, even though her mouth felt dry. “I think... the gift works for anyone,” she said quietly. “A-anyone I look at, I know... I know things about them. Things that...” She trailed off.

“Well... judging by what you knew about me, and judging by your expression, they aren’t exactly happy things,��� Mark said. “But we can figure this out. If we need to talk to anyone, I’ll do it, and you can look around while I do that. Maybe focus on what we need to do next. What do you feel?”

“Um...” Stacy waited for the answer to come, but it didn’t. She closed her eyes and tried to feel that push to keep going that the necklace gave her. But there was nothing. No feeling of urgency or stress about waiting around. She felt... normal. “It’s... not working,” she said, surprised, as she opened her eyes.

“Not working?” Mark repeated, equally surprised. “That shouldn’t happen. Not until you reach the goal you had when you put it on. Are you sure?” She nodded, and he turned away, bewildered. “Well... maybe your friend could be somewhere in here. But it should’ve taken us right to him, and I don’t think I see him anywhere.”

“Maybe you wouldn’t recognize him,” Stacy said. “You only met him once.” She braced herself, and looked around at the library patrons. The terrible things in their lives flashed through her mind, but she tried to focus on John.

“Well I think I’d remember a guy with an eye-patch.”

“You would think that, wouldn’t you?” Stacy murmured. For a moment, she remembered the time she and the kids got separated from John, after losing him in Foraois Hollow. The next time she’d seen him, she hadn’t realized who he was until he told her. And she recalled the last thing he said to her... Forget about me like everyone else.

“It’s still weird that it just stopped working,” Mark said.

Stacy felt something squeeze her shoulder, and heard a whisper in her ear. “it’s blocking the collar. you can’t find him.”

She shrugged her shoulders. “What?” she whispered.

“this is the last place he was enough himself to be found.”

What the hell was that supposed to mean?

“Excuse me.”

A young man wearing a black tank top brushed past them.

“Oh right, sorry!” Mark said, stepping aside. “Stacy, we’re blocking the entrance, let’s step aside.” He took her arm and gently pulled.

“Right, sorry.” Stacy stepped aside as well, instinctively looking up at the young man as he walked away—

The memory hit her like a sack of bricks.

It was late at night when it happened. He’d woken up to the sound of his mother screaming. Instantly awake, he threw aside the blankets and ran out of the bedroom. The cabin they rented in the mountains was unfamiliar to him, but he could follow the sound. 

He ran into the bedroom his parents were staying in and saw his father using a lamp to beat back their family dog, whose white muzzle was stained with red. The dog turned to stare at him. Its normally dark eyes were glowing yellow. Before he had time to process this, his father landed one solid whack with the lamp. The dog yelped, hit the wall hard, and stopped moving.

His father looked at him, breathing heavily. “Call the ambulance, mijo,” he said—using a term he rarely did. “And animal control. Don’t let your sister come in here.”

Though he felt frozen, he forced out a nod, and turned to leave. He’d left his phone in his room. The room where he slept alone, because his older sister Camila wanted to have one to herself, which she didn’t at home. Thinking about that caused him to hurry. He didn’t want Camila to be alone after that. Maybe the glowing eyes were some trick of the light. But what light? His parents’ bedroom had been dark.

He picked up his phone from the dresser and began to call 911. The operator picked up, and he stammered out some explanation, something about an animal attack and his mother being injured, telling them the name of the cabin they’d rented. On the other end of the line, the operator said that an ambulance was on the way, but it might take a while because of how far the cabin was, and to not hang up.

As the operator talked, he looked through the window. It was closed, but the curtains were ajar, because he liked the scenery. And there was someone standing outside. A man whose eyes glowed yellow.

He started, and dropped the phone. The man with yellow eyes smiled, revealing sharpened, wolf-like teeth. And then he blinked, and the man was gone. He hurried to pick up the phone, but somehow the call had ended. His eyes landed on the battery icon, watching as it visibly drained and then died.

They had to get out of here.

He ran for Camila’s bedroom. Behind him, he heard glass shatter, his father shout, and a strange, animalistic bellowing. He didn’t turn to see. As much as he wanted to, he knew he couldn’t afford to wait.

Camila was awake, having heard the commotion. “What’s going on?” she asked.

He only said, “We’re leaving! Now! Where are the keys?!”

“I think we left them in the living room? What’s happening? Are—” She didn’t have time to finish the question before he grabbed her and pulled her out of the bedroom. As he glanced back into the room, he saw the man with yellow eyes at the window, snarling.

More glass broke. He didn’t turn around to look, just ran with Camila behind him. They reached the cabin’s living room and he spotted the car keys discarded carelessly on the coffee table. “Get your shoes on!” he shouted, scooping them up. Camila hurried to do so, and he did as well.

And then there came a tapping at the window. He glanced up and saw birds flying outside, several of them, ranging from hawk to songbird. All tapping at the glass with their beaks or talons.

“Fuck!” he shouted.

Camila looked up, and gasped. “What the fuck?!”

There was no time. Beyond the tapping, he could hear loud sounds trampling down the hallway towards them. He grabbed Camila’s hand again and pulled her to the front door. They burst outside into the cold night air, running across the gravel driveway to where their car was parked. Doors were thrown open. They flung themselves inside: her in the passenger's seat, him behind the wheel. As he put the keys in and started the car, he glanced back towards the cabin’s front door. A hulking animal with yellow eyes charged through the open doorway, running straight at them. He caught glimpses of more yellow eyes behind it.

He shouted wordlessly and threw the car into drive, slamming the gas. The wheels spun for a terrifying split second before the car shot forward. The beast pursued them, but he didn’t let off the gas for a second.

The lights were not on. They were barrelling down the mountain road in darkness. He turned them on just in time for them to catch a man standing in the center of the road. A man with yellow eyes.

Camila screamed, but he didn’t flinch. The car jolted as the man went under. They weren’t wearing seatbelts, so they were thrown about. He heard a loud CRACK! His head whipped towards it. Camila was slumped forward, eyes closed, blood trickling from under her hair.

That was bad, but it could have been worse. They were going to make it. They were going to make it.

Camila laughed. She opened her eyes... and they glowed yellow.

He probably should have hesitated.

But he didn’t. He took his hands off the wheel and his foot off the gas, leaning over Camila she was slumped over. Reaching for the door handle. He could feel her squirming, and her nails clawing—were they sharper? No time. There was no time. He flung the door open, then threw himself backwards and gave Camila the strongest shove he could manage.

She tumbled out the door, rolling on the gravel road. As she did, she screamed, and his heart broke. But he couldn’t think about it now. He faced frontwards again and hit the gas, the car recklessly coasting down the sloping path.

It was only later, when he tried to tell the police, that he heard there were no records of the cabin where they stayed.

Stacy gasped. She blinked back sudden tears. That memory... it wasn’t normal. Obviously it wasn’t, what part of remembering things about people when she looked at them was normal? But the memory itself was strange. She knew those events were true. And those events were not natural.

“Um... Stacy?” Mark prompted.

Her eyes darted around, looking for that young man in the tank top. There! He was at the library’s front desk, talking to a young woman behind it. She didn’t look directly at her. Not yet. That memory was strong, and she didn’t want to be overwhelmed by whatever private business that young woman had. “We need to talk to him,” she whispered to Mark.

“Oh.” Mark looked at the young man, giving him a practiced once-over, the kind a person usually makes when they’d spent their whole life seeing unnatural creatures. Searching. Assessing. “Okay, I know he’s not your friend. And he’s not anything weird, either. Is the necklace working again?”

“No.” Stacy paused, thinking. “But I think my gift is working as intended.”

“Huh?”

“We’re going to go up to the counter,” Stacy said. “Ask about a library card or something while I listen.”

Mark nodded, easily pushing past the confusion, and the two of them walked up to the front desk. He started talking with the man sitting behind it about how to get a library card, what was needed and how many books you could check out and all that. Meanwhile, Stacy strained her ears, ignoring Mark’s conversation and trying to figure out what the young man and woman were talking about. They were speaking quietly, as if they didn’t want anyone to hear. But Stacy did. Somehow.

“...break in ten minutes,” the woman was saying. “We can talk about it then.”

“It’s really important,” the man insisted.

“I know it is, but it’s fricking weird to have this conversation now. Not to mention risky. This is a public library, anyone could hear us.”

“We’re not doing anything illegal. Well, the basement—”

The woman shushed him. “This is exactly what I mean!” she whisper-shouted.

The man glanced around. Stacy pretended to be really interested in the flyer on the desk advertising classes on Photoshop in the library’s computer lab. “You’re right,” the man whispered back. “This whole thing just freaks me out. You know me, I’m smarter than this. Usually.”

“I know you are, Leo.” The woman sighed. “Ten minutes. Meet me at the staff entrance in the parking garage. There’s that generator nearby, it’ll cover up the noise.”

“Got it.” The man turned and walked away.

Stacy nudged Mark subtly, hoping he’d get the signal. Luckily, he did. “I’ll come back with the photo ID later,” he said to the staff member behind the desk. “I want that maximum limit!”

The staff member laughed. “Good to see people ready to read. Come back any time.”

“I will, I will.” Mark smiled and nodded, then turned away. Stacy followed him. As soon as they were out of earshot, he asked, “Did you get anything helpful?”

“I did,” Stacy said. “Those two are definitely up to something. I don’t know if it’s related to John, but I have a feeling they might be a good place to start. They’re going to meet up in the parking garage in ten minutes, by some sort of generator. I think it’s the same one we’re parked in? I mean, it’s the closest one, so it makes sense.”

“I didn’t see any generator, but might as well check it out,” Mark said. “Can I ask why you’re so... insistent?”

Stacy explained the memory as they went back down to the parking garage—taking the elevator this time. She didn’t tell Mark everything. Like that bit at the end with the man’s sister... Some things deserved to be kept private. But she told him enough to understand.

“So because this guy has a memory of these freaky events, you think he could help us find John?” Mark guessed.

“Maybe. We can ask him, at least. Him and that girl, I think... I think they’re involved in something... strange.” Stacy paused. “Like we are. And like John is.”

The underground parking garage was big, so they got in Mark’s car to drive around it. And there! At the other end of the garage. There was indeed a generator, shoved into a wall and blocked off by a chain link fence. Mark parked in a space nearby, one partially hidden from the generator by a tall concrete pillar. “Alright, now what?”

Stacy paused. “I’m getting out,” she announced, and opened the door. “I’m going to go look around.”

“Wait!” Mark hissed. “Look!”

She looked in the direction he was pointing. The young man from the library was approaching the generator. Her eyes widened. “Duck down!” she said in a hushed voice. “I’ll hide behind the pillar.” As Mark started to move, she gently closed the car door, careful to make no sound, and stood at the edge of the pillar, at the perfect spot to occasionally glance around.

A few minutes passed before the young woman from the library appeared. She didn’t come from the same direction as the man. Instead, she came from a pair of nearby double doors. The staff entrance. Must have been. Stacy took a deep breath, and braced herself as she looked at the young woman glancing around—

And again, the memory slammed into her.

She didn’t remember picking up this book from her latest library trip. Had it fallen into her backpack at some point? Well, as long as she wouldn’t get fined for it, it was probably okay. The title was “Verum Fabulas: A Story Collection” and the cover had a photo of a cityscape at sunset. So it was a short story anthology, huh? Might as well check it out.

Something was strange about it from the beginning. There was no table of contents, as would usually be found in this type of book. And there was no page at the beginning with all that tiny legal text. Maybe it was self-published? There was a photograph of the author at the back, a full-body picture of a gray-haired woman standing in front of a brick wall. The name credited her as Suma Verus: clearly a pseudonym. Latin of some kind, going with the book title. Strange scheme, but sometimes authors wanted to stand out.

As she began to slowly work through the short stories in the book, she was hit by something even stranger than any of that. Every single story ended with the main character dying. No matter what direction the story was going in. And the deaths were completely unrelated to the themes, too. A scifi story about an aspiring author competing against the world’s first android writer? He chokes on a chicken bone while eating dinner and dies without any conclusion to the competition. A mystery story about a woman uncovering the dark secrets of her aunt’s family heirlooms? She gets carbon monoxide poisoning and dies, the secrets never being mentioned again. A fantasy story about a king and queen getting lost on the way to a diplomatic meeting with fairy royalty? Of all things, a truck comes out of nowhere and hits them both. In a semi-medieval setting.

She struggled to find some reason for all of these deaths. Maybe the author was trying to hint at a deeper meaning for all of them? But as strange and bad as these stories were, they weren’t too weird.

At least, that was what she thought until she came to the last story.

The main character’s name was hers. First and last. The physical description matched her to a T. The story mentioned family members, and they were hers. It mentioned a favorite food, and it was hers. It talked about a green water bottle with flower stickers... just like the one she always carried.

She read slowly, more confused and horrified with every one of these revelations. The context was different, set in a space station orbiting Earth, but all those details were true. Though she wanted to stop reading, she couldn’t. Something compelled her to keep going.

The story ended with the main character of her name being crushed by a falling gargoyle. Which just confused her more... until she remembered that there was a building on her college campus with beautiful old gargoyles. She had never gone in that building, but she walked by it every day to get from her dorms to the dining hall. A part of her said that this was all a massive, massive coincidence, but she couldn’t bring herself to believe that. So she took a different, longer route to the dining hall that evening.

Later that night, the college sent out an email apologizing for how some of the building’s decorations had fallen.

Just a coincidence... right?

She read the story again. The ending was different this time. Instead, the main character got trapped in an elevator just as the cable gave out and sent her crashing to the floor. There were elevators in her dorm, and elevators at the library she frequented. She avoided them both that day, and an elevator at the library suddenly collapsed right in front of her. Thankfully no one was inside. But someone could have been.

Had the story really changed?

She read it again. As if to spite her for using the stairs, the ending now read that someone ran past the main character and she fell down a staircase. Shaken, she closed the book, and stared down blankly at the author’s photo on the back cover. Was it just her imagination, or was the woman in the photo standing a bit closer? Had her feet always been cut off below the photograph, or was it just her mind playing tricks?

Desperately, she tried to get her roommates to read the story, but none of them did. They kept forgetting that she asked. Strange, considering none of them had ever been that forgetful before.

She read the story over and over. Every day, the ending changed. Her demise varied from car accidents (she stopped walking near roads) to food poisoning (she bought new groceries) to slipping in the shower (she avoided it all day.) She stopped going outside at all, knowing that the story would only predict her death out there. But there were plenty of ways to die in just her dorm room. That was proven when the story correctly predicted faulty wiring in her bedroom light switch, which she got checked out by the campus maintenance guys. 

And every day, the woman in the photograph got a little closer.

The woman started appearing in her dreams. She stood at the foot of her bed every night, eyes reflecting light like a cat’s, silver hair flowing in an invisible wind. And as the woman’s head began to take up the photograph, she began to see her in her waking hours, too. Standing in the corner of her vision. Slowly, slowly raising a hand, reaching for her. She tried to ignore the book in hopes of stalling the woman, but it was no use. Once a day, against her will, she found herself taking the book from whatever hiding place she’d put it in and reading the final story, over and over.

Until, finally, her desperation reached a high. The story predicted she would die in a fire while cooking on the stove. After reading that, she saw the photograph on the back was just of the woman’s face, framed with silver hair. Instinctively, she knew that the woman wasn’t going to get any closer. She could see her in the corner of her vision with her hand outstretched. There was nothing more she could do. Except, maybe...

She made sure her roommates would all be out. Just in case. And then she started to cook, making simple ramen. Something caught. And the pot was ablaze. The panic almost overtook her. It happened so fast!

But she was prepared. She held the book in her hands and dropped it into the pot, nearly burning her fingers. In the corner of her eyes she saw the woman lunge forward, then start to wail and tear at her own face. The fire quickly consumed the book. The woman smoked and turned black. And then she was gone.

There was more to do. She edged a lid over the pot, again almost burning her hand. The fire died slowly. The only parts burning were the fragments of the book left outside. She stared at them, not wanting to move, until they were nothing but ash.

Stacy took a moment to catch her breath. So, she was right. The young man and woman both had strange experiences. Now the question was if they were still involved with this world.

The two of them were talking by the generator now. Even with the distance and the loud industrial humming, Stacy could still hear them. Strange.

“i’m helping you.”

She chose to ignore that and focus on the conversation.

“I didn’t know you were old enough to get one,” the woman said.

“Barely, yeah.” The man nodded. “The guy didn’t ask questions. Which is good, because I’m sure my planned excuse would have fallen flat. So, what do you think? He’s ready to sell if we need one.”

The woman sighed. “I just... I don’t know. It’s not too different from stabbing.”

“I say it’s pretty different. We won’t have to get too close. And I think that thing likes knives, we don’t know how it’ll feel about guns.”

“It just feels so... visceral, you know?” the woman said.

“You’re the one constantly talking about how freaky it is,” the man pointed out. “And we can’t do laundry anymore with it down there. We need to get rid of it fast.”

“Yeah, but like—none of the others begged for help. I know it’s probably a trick of some kind, but...” The woman trailed off. “I-it feels bad, you know?”

“Diane... I get it,” the man said softly. “I don’t want to do it, either. But what else are we going to do? Let it go? Keep it forever? This thing scared Michael. I didn’t even think that was possible. It’s dangerous, a-and we need to... we need to do something about it.” His voice shook a little.

“Have you talked this over with Michael and Rya?” the woman asked.

“No...”

“We’ll do that first. Have another meeting tonight. But honestly? I doubt you’ll get a majority agreement. We’re not... not heartless.” The woman gave a little laugh. “Maybe if we keep at the isolation strategy, it’ll... pass... eventually.”

“Maybe,” the man said, sounding uncertain.

“Did you drive the van up here?” the woman asked.

“Yeah.”

“Can you...drive me home? I-I think I want to take the rest of the day off.”

“Sure. Of course.”

The two of them walked away. Stacy watched carefully, then slunk back to the car, opening the door and awkwardly sliding inside.

“Anything helpful?” Mark asked.

“I’m not sure,” Stacy said slowly. “I think they were talking about one of the... creatures. Hang on, can we, like, follow them?”

“Depends on where they’re going,” Mark said, watching the pair of them walking. “Did they say anything?”

“The guy mentioned he drove a van up here,” Stacy relayed.

“Like that one?” Mark gestured at a gray van, parked some ways away from them.

“Yeah...” Stacy nodded slowly. “When we noticed the guy, he was walking in from that direction. That might be it. Keep watching.” They both fell silent for a moment. The man and woman approached the van and got in. “That’s it.” Stacy squinted. “Can you see the license plate?”

“Not from here,” Mark said. “We might be able to tail them. But you should try to look for the plate anyway.”

“I’ll take a picture,” Stacy said, reaching into her pocket and taking out her phone.

The van started up, pulling backwards out of the parking space and driving away. Mark started his car again and followed.

* * * * * * * * * *

They weren’t able to follow the van all the way. At some point, they lost it in the traffic. But by then Stacy had taken several pictures of it and its license plate. “Do you think we’ll be able to find it again?” she asked.

“I mean, it might take the rest of the day, but probably,” Mark said. “If the guy drove up here, they can’t have gone too far. Still, that’s a lot of places to look. Do you really think we’ll need to find them?”

“Yeah, I do.”

Mark glanced at her. “Are you gonna tell me why?”

“Of course. It’s just...how do I say it?”

“You can start with telling me what you overheard.”

“Well.” Stacy repeated the gist of the pair’s conversation. The two of them had to deal with something dangerous, and the man could get something to help with that, but the woman was hesitant. “It sounds like they have one of these monsters in their basement and are trying to figure out how to get rid of it.”

“That’s what I was thinking, too,” Mark muttered. “So you think that we can help them? And they can help us?”

“Yeah.” Stacy nodded. “I get the feeling they’re involved. You know... like we are. When I looked at them, I knew that they’d gone through similar stuff. And we don’t have many leads on finding John anymore. So... it’s as good a place to start, right? With the people who are involved.”

“Don’t sound so uncertain about it, it is a good idea,” Mark reassured her. “We’ll look for their van in the area. And if we see it... I guess we’ll go up to them and start talking or something. Ask about John.”

“Right.” How would one start that conversation? ‘Have you seen my friend with an eyepatch? He’s also been marked by the supernatural, like you and the two of us, too.’ No, that was too blunt.

Well, she had some time to think about it.

* * * * * * * * * *

They drove around the city for most of the day, stopping around noon for lunch. Mark went up and down the surface streets in an ever-widening circle. Stacy said they would cover more ground if they took the freeway, but he pointed out that they could easily miss some areas. It sounded like the strange man and woman lived together in a house, judging by their mention of the basement, and the freeway didn’t go right into every neighborhood.

It was late afternoon when they finally found the van. Parked in a driveway of a one-story suburban home. Stacy double-checked the license plate to be sure this was the right one. “Got it,” she muttered. “So now...” She stared at the house’s front entrance. “I guess we just... walk up there?”

“I mean, do you have a better idea?” Mark asked. “We could sneak inside or something, but we want to talk to them, and that wouldn’t exactly be a good impression.”

“No, you’re right.” Stacy grabbed the car door handle. Before she stepped out, though, she asked, “I did pack my gun and holster, right?”

“The holster’s that shoulder strap thing, right? Yeah, I put them in the trunk,” Mark said.

“Good.” Hopefully, it wouldn’t be needed, but she would rather be safe than dead.

She made a quick detour to the trunk and strapped on the holster, putting on a jacket to hide it. Mark stopped the car and also stepped out, meeting her at the back. He rummaged through their packed bags until he found a sheathed hunting knife. “Not fair that only one of us’s armed,” he said in response to Stacy’s surprised expression. He tucked the knife into his belt. “Now let’s go.”

The front door was white, sitting in the middle of a small porch with some old white plastic lawn chairs, clearly unused. Stacy hesitated, then rang the doorbell.

Thirty seconds passed. She caught a glimpse of movement in the front windows, but couldn’t see who—or what—it was. So she rang again.

Another thirty seconds passed. “Do you... think they’re gonna answer at all?” Stacy asked Mark quietly.

“Honestly I don’t think many people open their doors to strangers these days, so probably not,” Mark answered. “Guess we’ll have to be persistent.”

“I guess.” She rang the doorbell again.

And then it opened. A tall young man with a strawberry blonde ponytail glanced at her, then glanced at Mark, then smiled. “Can I help you?”

The moment Stacy saw him, another vivid memory hit her. She remembered mirrors, a twisted living reflection, an escape, and grief for the family he’d lost—or, actually, the family that lost him. And she remembered a gap that he felt within himself, a gap that disturbed him but that served its use. It took her a couple seconds to recover from it. “Hi, uh... we’re looking for a friend of mine,” she said in a somewhat strangled voice. “Have you seen him? He’s about my age, brown hair and a beard, one blue eye and one covered by an eye-patch. Last I saw him he was wearing a green parka.”

The young man frowned and shook his head. “No, I don’t think we have.”

“Are you sure?” she asked.

“Pretty sure.”

Stacy paused. “Well... maybe you could help us look for him,” she suggested.

“Uh... okay. If you have any missing pictures we can help put them up and keep an eye out, but there’s not much we can do.” The man laughed. “It’s not like we’re the police.”

“The police wouldn’t be able to help, anyway,” Stacy said. “But I think you can.”

The man stopped laughing. His eyes narrowed slightly as he gave her a wary look. “What?”

Mark cleared his throat. “I’ll just cut to the chase. I think it’ll help everyone if we’re all honest with each other. We know that you and your friends... are involved with some... let’s say, unnatural business. We’re the same. My friend’s friend has gone missing because of some of that, and we think that if we share our information, we might be able to find him.”

Stacy nodded. “And I think we can help you guys with anything you’re, uh, having problems with.”

The man stared at the two of them. Flashes of memories flickered through Stacy’s mind: ones that were, as Mark put it, unnatural. Objects and the occasional creature that she pushed out of her mind as soon as they came, not wanting any more of these things to linger in her memory than the ones already there. “Uh, one moment,” the man said, and promptly closed the door.

...Welp.

Mark and Stacy looked at each other. He jerked his head towards the window. She nodded, and they both leaned to the side, looking through the glass and open shutters. The young man and woman from the library were in there, along with another young lady and the man who’d opened the door. They were all talking, gesturing animatedly. As Stacy looked at the new young woman, another vivid memory hit her. Well... at least this one didn’t feature some new horror. The classmate in the red hood in the woman’s memory was already familiar to Stacy. But she never expected to see it here.

As if she realized Stacy was thinking about her, the young woman glanced through the window towards Mark and Stacy. Her eyes widened and she pointed. The two of them immediately leaned back out of sight.

A few seconds later, the young woman opened the front door and shouted, “Are you freaking Markiplier?!”

Silence. And then Mark burst into laughter. “Yeah, I am!”

“Holy shit!” The woman gaped at him, and the other three all hurried to gather around the front door to see. “I can’t—there’s—Markiplier??? At our house?? Markiplier knows about the supernatural?!”

“Yeah, I sure do, I sure do.” Mark chuckled.

The man from the library muttered something under his breath, looking equally in awe as the woman. Meanwhile, the other two looked confused and mildly interested. Of course. Stacy had forgotten about Mark’s online presence. He played video games on YouTube. But she hadn’t expected this to happen in a million years. Did YouTubers usually get this reaction or was Mark just special? “Hey, uh, come in... man,” the guy from the library said awkwardly. “Your friend, too.”

“Thanks,” Mark said, stepping inside. Stacy followed, and the door closed behind them.

Everyone stood around, hovering uncertainly. “So... I-I’m Rya,” said the young woman who’d recognized Mark. “This is Michael, and that’s Leo and Diane. We, uh... I-I’m sorry, this is all so weird.”

“No, I get it, I get it,” Mark said. “It’s so weird. Oh, uh, this is Stacy.” He gestured at her. “We’re looking for her friend.”

“And you two know about all the paranormal stuff,” Leo said. “Not that I want to accuse you of lying, but, uh... is there anything you... uh, anything you can do to...”

“Do you have any proof?” Diane asked.

Stacy felt something squeeze her shoulder. She looked at Leo, and the squeeze tightened. Before she was aware of it, she whispered, “Your sister’s name was Camila.”

Leo stiffened and went pale. His three friends glanced at him. “You have a sister?” Rya asked.

“I-I did, but not...” Leo’s voice faded quickly.

Stacy shrugged her shoulder and shook her head. “I’m... sorry, I-I didn’t mean to... say that,” she stammered. “I just—this happens sometimes, it’s—it’s part of... of what happened to me.” A hint of a whisper in her ear. She ignored it.

“Well... that’s proof enough,” Leo said, swiftly recovering. “These guys are legit.” He looked around at the others. “Do you think they could... help?”

“With the thing in the basement?” Michael asked.

“Yeah.”

“Don’t just say it!” Diane gasped. “You’ll scare them away!”

“What’s in the basement?” Mark asked.

Diane made a strangled noise. She glanced at her friends, then sighed. “Well, it looks human,” she said, adjusting her glasses. “But we’re pretty sure it’s not. I-I saw it at my work one day, where it... it made all the computers go weird. And it’s done the same sort of thing ever since we, uh, took it and, uh... put it in our basement. Rya’s laptop and all our phones go crazy around it.”

Rya nodded, backing up Diane. “And it’s really aggressive.”

Stacy frowned. Computers and phones acting weird... “This might be a weird question, but... does it have green eyes? I-I mean, are the white parts green?”

The four looked surprised. “Yeah, it does,” Michael said quietly. “Do you know what it is?”

“Maybe,” Stacy said. “I can’t be sure without seeing it, but I think it’s something I’ve seen before.” She paused, and looked at Mark. “Maybe... maybe this’ll help us, too.”

He leaned closer to her and whispered, “You said you weren’t able to defeat that weird glitch thing before. If that’s what’s in their basement, how can we do it now?”

“I don’t know. But things have changed.” Stacy ignored a touch on her shoulder as she said that. “And we can try, at least. If it’s stuck down there we’ll be able to get away easily.”

“That’s a good point.” Mark straightened and looked back at the four friends. “Alright. I think we have an idea. We’ll go down and look at the thing in your basement, and if we’re able to do something about it, can you guys help us find Stacy’s friend?”

“Uhhh... one second,” Diane said. She gestured at the others, and the four of them shuffled out of the living room and into the nearby hallway. Stacy and Mark could hear their voices but couldn’t make out what they were saying. A short time later, the four of them came back. “Alright.” Diane nodded. “We’ll let you try. The basement stairs are this way.”

The two of them followed the friends down the hall, passing a side door before reaching the open doorway that led to the staircase, lit up by a single bright light at the bottom. Mark asked a few questions as they walked down the hall and climbed down the stairs. Mostly stuff about how many strange things these friends had seen over the years, and what they’d done with them. Diane did most of the talking, explaining that their little group formed when they realized they all experienced something terrible and unnatural, and they’d promised to get rid of any more terrible and unnatural things they’d found, before anyone else could get hurt. They’d been at this for about three years now, and had banished or destroyed many of these strange things.

Stacy knew all this. She remembered some of the group’s more harrowing encounters whenever she looked directly at one of them.

“Here we are.”

The bottom of the basement stairs ended in a short hallway with two doors to the left and right. Diane and the other three all turned to face the one on the left. None of them moved to open it. There were no sounds coming from the other side.

“So, what are we expecting to see here?” Mark asked. “You said it looked like a human. Is some guy just going to rush at us the second we open the door?”

“No, we’ve, uh...” Diane trailed off, looking at the other three for help.

“We’ve secured it,” Leo supplied.

Stacy raised an eyebrow. “That sounds a bit sketchy.”

“I know, I know.” Diane gave a nervous little laugh. “We, uh—i-it’s not illegal if it’s a monster, right? God, that just sounds even more sketchy, uh—”

“We tied it up,” Michael interrupted.

“Michael!”

“What? It’s what we did!” Michael put his hands on his hips. “We had some climbing rope from other stuff we did, so we used that. It was tied to a chair at first but a couple days ago it broke it so we had to improvise from there, luckily that’s our laundry room so there are a few exposed water pipes and stuff that we used. We’ve been waiting to see if it died of thirst or hunger so we haven’t—”

“You’re just making it sound worse, you know,” Rya muttered.

“It’s fine.” Stacy tried to give the four of them a reassuring smile, though she was sure it looked a little shaky. “I-if it keeps attacking you, you had to do something, right? I’ve seen some of these things that looked human, and I wouldn’t hesitate to tie them up.” There was a whispered grumble in her ear that she swore sounded offended. “Who goes in first?” she asked.

“I got it,” Mark said, taking out his hunting knife. “You back me up, since you got the long range.”

Leo muttered, “I can’t believe we might get Markiplier killed,” and Michael elbowed him and replied “Shut up, he’s offering to help,” and Rya hissed “We’ll go in after them if things go sideways, it’s fine,” and Diane shushed them all.

Stacy took her gun out of the holster, to quiet gasps from the four friends, and stood behind Mark as he slowly turned the doorknob and eased the door open. He looked back at her and raised his eyebrows. She nodded in response. She was more than ready. So he turned back and slowly walked into the room.

“be careful,” said a whisper in her ear. She didn’t acknowledge it and silently followed Mark.

It was an unremarkable basement room, with rough carpet, unpainted walls, and bare lightbulbs. Stacy dimly noticed the single window and the washer and dryer, but she didn’t pay them any mind. Her eyes first landed on the two sticks of splintered wood that might’ve once been a pair of chair legs. And then they were drawn to the figure huddled against the washer.

There was something... unexpected... about him.

A solid few seconds passed as Stacy tried to process what this unexpectedness was. The figure was a man, wearing a couple layers of clothing that completely hid his skin—most notably, a green jacket with fur around the hood. His hair and beard were dark brown. The left eye was closed while the right was open, revealing a dark iris and green sclera. Rope was wrapped around his torso, with his arms pinned behind his back. His ankles were tied together with yet more rope, and another length wrapped around his neck, tying it to an exposed pipe that fed into the washer. As Mark and Stacy walked into the room, the man shuddered, and opened his other eye. It was blue.

Stacy gasped and nearly dropped her gun. “John!”

Mark’s head whipped back towards her. “Wait, this is your friend?!”

“Y-yeah...” How had it taken her so long to notice? Was it because she never thought she’d find him here? Or was it because of something else?

Something clicked. The necklace around her neck unclasped itself and fell to the ground. Well, that was proof enough for her. She’d set out to find him, and now she had, so there was no need for it anymore.

“I told you... to forget about me...” said a weak voice. Again, it took Stacy a moment to realize John was speaking. But this time, it was because she never expected him to sound like that. So exhausted, words tinged with... Was that... grief?

“Stacy, are you sure?” Mark backed up a bit, until he and Stacy were about even, standing halfway between the door and John. “You said that weird glitch thing you fought changed appearances, right?”

“Yeah, but that was different,” Stacy insisted. “It was less... less stable. Somehow. I-I don’t know. But I know that this isn’t that, this is John.”

“Look, I met your friend a couple times, I swear he didn’t look like this,” Mark said.

John laughed. “Of course you would,” he muttered. “Mark, do you remember your friend Jack?”

Mark’s shoulders raised. “...why?”

“What if I said I was ÁÿËħż?”

Mark blinked, confused, and took another step backwards. “What?”

“I’m Ĺ׼Śļ.” John leaned forward. “I’m ÚÞõÎđ.” He paused, staring at Mark expectantly. “I’m āęãĩŰ.” Another pause. His breath shuddered. “I’m êŧŝŎ¾¯! I’m ŽÆėáņ, Mark! It’s me!”

Mark just stared at him. He glanced at Stacy and tightened his grip on his knife. “I-I don’t know what it’s trying to say,” he said quietly to her.

John laughed. “I can heeear you...” He leaned back again. His head hit the pipe with a dull thunk, but he didn’t so much as wince. “I don’t know why I try anymore...”

Stacy took a step forward. “John. I believe it’s you, but Mark’s going to be a bit hesitant, so I’m going to do a test. Do you know my son Larkin’s favorite video game? He plays it all the time on his Nintendo DS.”

John looked at her, something flickering in his eyes. “I thought Mathew was the one who played games. And I don’t think either of them have a DS, because you guys have a Switch, right?”

“Yeah.” Stacy gave a little laugh. “Yeah, that’s right. I’m so glad—”

“That’s not a good test, though,” John interrupted, looking away from her. “What if you found something that changed shapes and read minds? There’s things out there like that.”

She hadn’t thought of that. “Well—”

“And even though it can’t read your mind, it’s already in mine,” John added quietly. “It knows anything I do. And more.”

Something squeezed her shoulder. She heard a hiss from behind her, but didn’t back down. In fact, she took another step closer. “...John. I know it’s you. A-and I know that—that the weird glitch thing got to you. It probably got to you a long time ago, but you got away, right?” John flinched. “But now it’s back. Because... because when it was going after Mathew, you said it could take you instead. I’ve figured that out, John. I-I don’t know anything beyond that. But I know it was probably hell on you. I... I want to help. Mark’s a bit freaked out, but he wants to help, too.” Probably. “Tell us what we can do.”

John’s mismatched eyes flicked to hers. He said something that should have been too quiet to hear. But Stacy heard it clear as day:

“Nothing.”

“I don’t believe that,” she said, slowly taking a few steps forward. “There has to be something—”

“Don’t get closer!” John shrieked, jerking forwards again.

She stopped. “There has to be a way out of this for you,” she continued.

A smile twisted John’s face. “Are you just saying that because then there might be a way out for you?”

Her heart dropped. The invisible grip on her shoulder tightened. “N... no. That’s not it at all, and—and what do you mean in the first place?”

“I can see it.” John’s eyes drifted, focusing on something just behind her. “It’s wanted you this whole time, and now it has you. Its claim is realized.” He bared his teeth in something that might have been a smile. “Do you think that will help?”

Stacy opened her mouth to respond, and then she felt something behind her shift, and realized he wasn’t talking to her. A voice murmured something that she couldn’t hear.

“Coward,” John spat. “Always hiding from view. Afraid of people facing you and realizing you’re nothing. Just a—” Suddenly he bent over, face going white. A strangled cough cut off what he was saying.

“John?” Stacy said hesitantly. She looked back at Mark—for support or ideas or something—but his eyes were fixed on John, his grip on the knife tight.

“Stacy.” John’s voice was hoarse. “Get out of here.”

“What?”

“Get out of here,” John repeated urgently, looking up at her. “Don’t get—please, I—” Blood trickled from his green eye. His body shook slightly, tremors all over.

“What?!” Stacy stepped forward again. She was only a couple feet from John now. “I’m not leaving you when you’re like this! I-I want to help.”

“H-help...? I-I...” John’s breathing was heavy. His arms jerked, only held in place by the rope. “Help... please—no! N-no, don’t—you c-c-can’t, I...please...”

“What can I do? Tell me what I can do!” Stacy urged, ignoring the whispers in her ears that wanted her to step away. Like hell she was going to listen to it. Like hell she was going to abandon her friend.

“Please... don’t...” John shuddered. “I-I want... h-help m—no! No! You can’t get—away, Stacy, please just—” Then it stopped. All color drained from his face as his eyes rolled back in his head and he suddenly slumped forward.

“John?” Stacy said quietly.

He didn’t stir. His breathing was strained. His eyelids fluttered and closed.

“John? John?!” she repeated.

That rope around his neck. He was leaning forward, stretching it taut, it was the only thing keeping him upright, all his weight pressed against—

Stacy dropped her gun and rushed towards him. He was going to choke!

“Stacy, no!” Mark shouted, hurrying after her.

She ignored him. She was just going to adjust John’s position a little bit, that’s all, it would be fine. He would be fine. Now beside him, she crouched down and reached out and pushed him back—

John’s eyes snapped open. He lurched forwards, head ducking downwards, faster than she would have thought possible. Pain pierced her arm. She shrieked and reflexively pulled her arm back. The pain intensified, tearing through her arm. Mark shouted, “Stacy!” and John laughed.

Stacy shot to her feet and staggered backwards, while Mark ran in front of her and held out his knife protectively. She looked down at her arm and saw blood. Thick trickles of blood coming from a ring in her skin. John was still laughing. She looked back up and saw his grinning teeth were coated in crimson.

A furious scream came from behind her.

Then the lights went out.

Something shoved Stacy aside, and she lost her balance, landing hard on the ground. “Stacy?!” Mark asked. “Where are you?”

“Here!” she replied. “H-hang on.” And she began feeling around the ground for her gun. She’d dropped it somewhere around here, right?

The air was a mix of sharp smells. The metallic scent of blood, and that distinct hot smell of a room full of electronics that had been running for too long, both mixed with a sharp alcoholic smell and a heavier scent she could only identify as “dusty.” She could still hear John laughing in the darkness—no, he wasn’t just laughing anymore. There were sobs mixed in there, and half-formed pleas. Beneath that, she heard loud CRACKs and THUDs. Like something solid being hit repeatedly.

There! Her hands wrapped around the handle of her gun and she scrambled to her feet. John’s laughter sounded oddly doubled. And she could hear more screams, oddly distant and present at the same time. They weren’t John’s or Mark’s or any of the four friends outside. They weren’t human. But they were very, very angry.

The lights flickered on briefly. She saw John, pressing himself into the corner where the washer met the wall. She saw Mark, standing, head turning wildly until his eyes landed on her. And she saw... shadows on the wall. Shadows of two figures. Maybe they were human. It was hard to tell, because the shadows were moving, violently throwing themselves at each other, grappling, fighting. She looked for the source of the shadows, but the lights flickered off again before she could tell where they came from.

Something grabbed her upper arm. She cried out and yanked it away. “Stacy, it’s me!” Mark’s voice said from nearby. “We have to get out of here!”

“Right.” Stacy scrambled to her feet, searching blindly with her hand for Mark again. She brushed against his arm, and the two of them eventually adjusted to hold each other’s hand. “Let’s go!” The CRACKs and THUDs were growing louder, as were the screams and one part of John’s doubled-laughing. She felt the floor shuddering with impacts.

They ran.

It was luck that they chose the right direction. Mark hit the door, then she did, and the two of them searched for the doorknob together. Mark found it first. He twisted it open and bolted outside, pulling her with him. As soon as they cleared the doorway he turned around and slammed it shut.

“What happened in there?!” It was Diane. Her and the other three were staring at them intently. “The door just shut suddenly! We couldn’t get it open!”

“We were about to break it down!” Leo added.

“Give us a minute guys.” Mark pressed a hand to his chest and leaned back against the wall. “That was... I don’t know what that was. Whatever that thing was, it looked like Stacy’s friend. It bit her, and then suddenly the lights went out—Stacy, are you alright?”

Stacy said nothing. She looked back down at her arm, at the blood coming from the injury. “...that was him,” she said quietly.

Mark stared at her. “Stacy...” he said gently, “that couldn’t have been John—”

“It was!” she shouted. “It’s just—it’s not just him! You heard what he said! It was in his mind! It’s—it’s possessing him!” She could see doubt on Mark’s face. “Don’t you judge me! Don’t say that’s not possible after all this! I’ve seen more fucked-up shit than that!”

“Stacy—” Mark started, again in that gentle voice.

“Don’t! Don’t!” Stacy shook her head. He was staring at her—these four strangers were staring at her, and every time she returned those stares she remembered more of their lives—terrible things, things she didn’t want to know! “I—I’m—I have to leave!” she shouted, then turned and ran up the stairs.

“Stacy!” Mark shouted after her. “Wait!”

But she didn’t stop. When she reached the top of the stairs, she headed straight out the nearby side entrance and into the afternoon air. Her eyes darted around, and she kept running. She turned and ran across the street, thankfully empty of cars, and through the neighborhood houses. She ran in between yards and across sidewalks, and only turned again when a car blocked the way. She ran until her legs screamed at her and her lungs wheezed with every breath. Only then did she stop running and collapse in the nearest patch of grass.

The sky above was a beautiful shade of blue, but there was a gathering of gray clouds at one end. It would probably rain soon. If it did, would she move? She didn’t know.

Stacy laid there for a long time, watching the clouds drift and the sun sink. She waited to be found. But nobody came.

Well... Mark didn’t, at least.

In between one blink and the next, she caught a glimpse of something moving. Dust tickled her nose, and a weight pressed down on her chest for a few seconds before disappearing.

“hey.”

Stacy closed her eyes. She knew it was too much to wish it wouldn’t find her again.

Slowly, she stood up and looked around. She had no idea where it was. Some neighborhood. What city was this? She couldn’t remember what exit they’d left the freeway on. It couldn’t be too hard to find out, though.

...now what?

Her stomach grumbled. Maybe she could figure out what to do next once she had some food in her. It was... the only thing she could think to do right now.

Picking a direction at random, she started to walk.

[crystalninjaphoenix]

The Things You Survive

A Horror Septic Story

(I’ll be honest, this is probably one of the least scary chapters. But hopefully there’s still a few scares in there for you guys ;) I’ll keep this short, since the story is long enough. Stacy learns that there are more people out there who know about the things that inhabit the world. And so does John. Although the people they meet, and the way they meet them, are very, very different.)

—————

Even though Stacy and the kids had been living with Mark and Amy for a couple months now, they’d never been in this room. She didn’t even know it existed. But looking back on it, there was something a bit off about that part of the hallway wall. It looked slightly different. Stacy just assumed it was a weird paint job. But when Amy knocked on the middle part of that different wall three times, causing a strange thunk sound from somewhere inside, Stacy knew it was more.

Amy pushed the wall, and it slowly swung open, the bottom grinding against the ground. Behind it was a downward staircase made of wood, lit up when Mark reached in and flipped a switch. Mathew and Larkin gasped in awe. “Seeecret,” Mathew whispered.

“You mind?” Mark asked, looking at Stacy.

“Uh...” Stacy slowly shook her head.

“Good.” Mark and Amy stepped to the side, and he gestured at the staircase. “After you guys.”

And now here they were, sitting in a secret underground room. The ceiling was low with wooden beams supporting it. In the middle of the square room was a circular table, wood with metal legs. Two old sofas sat on either side of it, facing each other. Shelves, drawers, and filing cabinets completely covered the walls, papers and books sticking out at odd angles. In the corners of the room were old, seemingly normal trunks. But when Stacy looked at these trunks, she felt a shiver down her spine.

“So.” Mark paused. He and Amy were sitting on one of the sofas, while Stacy was sitting on the other, her sons on either side. “Do you want to go first, or should we?”

“I... guess I’ll explain some things,” Stacy said slowly. She glanced to the left at Mathew, who nodded. Then to the right at Larkin, who grabbed her hand and squeezed it. She looked back at Mark and Amy, took a deep breath, and started telling her story.

She wasn’t sure how long it took to outline everything, starting with their move to the house in Bronainise and their discovery of the thing inside. Her throat was certainly starting to get hoarse by the time she reached Foraois Hollow and the strange forest that surrounded it. And by the time she was talking about what happened in Achmatze, Amy had gone upstairs to get her a bottle of water to help. Mark and Amy were good listeners, asking clarifying questions and reacting to the events with a mix of horror and sympathy. They let her continue all the way through the encounter with the glitchy thing (Mathew declined to explain his part of the story), and the strange, eternally looping house she’d been trapped in just a couple hours ago.

When it was clear she was finished, Mark and Amy exchanged a significant look. “How’d you get out of the Manor, again?” Amy asked.

“I...” Stacy took a drink of water from the bottle. She’d drained it to three-quarters empty during her long explanation. “I don’t know for sure. But I think... I think it heard me call for help. A-and that somehow... caused it to appear.” She felt a weight on her shoulder, and glanced to the side. There was a flicker of something, then nothing. Her head whipped back around. “Did you see that?!” she hissed.

“No,” Amy said.

“Yeah,” Mark said.

They both looked at each other.

“The ghost is still here?” Larkin asked timidly.

“It shouldn’t be.” Amy’s voice was a strange mix of fear and offense. “This is supposed to be a safe place.”

“I don’t think it’s actually there,” Mark said slowly. “Or at least, not fully. I think... maybe that’s a result of it being somehow attached to Stacy now. Part of it will always be with her.”

Stacy shivered. “How do you two know this stuff?” she asked quietly.

“Well, you can say we’re experts on the subject,” Mark said jokingly.

“Or at least the closest thing to it,” Amy added. “Your friend—John? He might know more than we do, just because it sounds like he’s a lot more immersed in this world.”

“So, how do you know about it?” Stacy repeated.

Amy and Mark glanced at each other, and Amy made a “go-ahead” gesture, yielding the floor to Mark. “Well, I’ve always been able to see weird things,” he said. “Like Larkin here, and that family you mentioned in Ireland. I got it from my mom’s side of the family. When I was a kid I totally believed I was seeing monsters, but as I got older, I just sort of...convinced myself that it was all in my head, and that my mom was just playing along with me. I tried medication for a couple years, but, shockingly, that didn’t help. So I learned to ignore it. But then...a couple things changed.”

“Like what?” Larkin asked. His eyes were wide as he stared at Mark in awe. Clearly, hearing about someone else who could do this was very exciting to him.

“It started with this recurring dream I would have,” Mark explained. “Well. Not really a dream. Because it would happen wherever I was, no matter what I was doing, awake or asleep. I’d just blink, and suddenly I’d be in this strange...TV studio.”

Stacy blinked. “TV studio?”

Mark grinned. “Not where you’d expect a bunch of weird supernatural stuff to happen, right? It’s hard to describe what it looks like, almost like a talk show set, but it seems to change every time I go there. What doesn’t change is the weird guy with the mustache.”

Again, Stacy had to take a moment to process that. “I’m sorry?”

“It’s a lot more threatening that I’m able to describe.” Mark leaned back against the sofa. “Imagine... Have you ever met someone who got all up in your personal space, even if you asked them not to? Leaving this weird, uncomfortable feeling of being too close? This guy is like that. You always feel like that around him, even if he’s on the other side of the room. And he has this smile that’s just a bit too big, and these eyes that are just a bit too wide. And he always stares at you, no matter where he is or where you are. And his voice. God, it’s hard to describe his voice. It’s just a little bit off, and...it’s hard to describe. Even though he doesn’t stop talking, and I keep hearing his voice, I can never describe it.”

Stacy nods. She’s starting to get the picture of what Mark is describing. Though she’s sure that imagination won’t do it justice.

“Whenever I show up there, it asks me questions,” Mark continued. “Just relentless questions. It calls this an interview, but even when I do answer, it just cuts me off. Usually twists what I say to make me look bad. And then it kills me.”

“What?!” Mathew, previously listening idly, straightens to attention.

“You, uh, sound really casual about that,” Stacy said.

“I do? Well, I guess it’s just because I’m used to it. The dreams started in...2012, I think? But believe me, getting killed is not a pleasant experience no matter how many times it happens.” Mark shudders. Amy leans a bit closer to him, supportively.

“How does it kill you?” Stacy asked.

“Usually either stabbing or shooting. But there are sometimes a few weird ones.” Mark cleared his throat. “Anyway. Once I die in the dream, I just reappear back in the real world exactly where I was before. In the same position, too. One time I was washing dishes when I disappeared. I didn’t have the sponge or plate I was holding in the dream world, and when I came back I dropped them. Broke the plate.” He sighed. “That was a mess. But even though these dreams were very, very real, I still thought it was just my brain doing weird stuff. It wasn’t until Amy and I started living together that I realized it was more than just a hallucination or something.”

“One day, Mark was on the couch, and he just disappeared,” Amy explained. “I tried calling his phone, looked around the house to see if I was hallucinating, and almost called the police. But then, a couple minutes later, he just blinked back, right where he’d been last.”

Mark nodded. “That was the moment where I was like ‘oh shit. Is all this real?’” He laughed dryly. “Not exactly a fun realization to have. But, after a while, you get used to it.”

“Yeah,” Stacy said quietly.

“We didn’t really start doing anything about it for a while, though,” Amy said. “It was when...Mark, do you want to keep going?”

“Yeah, I’ll keep going.” Mark sat up straight. “So, you know how I make YouTube videos for a living.” He waited for Stacy and the boys to nod before he went on. “Well, I met a couple friends through YouTube. You know, people I didn’t know in real life, but who I’d met on the platform and at conventions and stuff. One of these friends was a guy named Jack.”

Stacy felt something squeeze her shoulder. She glanced behind her, but didn’t see anything.

“You okay?” Amy asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Stacy waved away the concern. “More or less. You can go on.”

Mark paused, then nodded. “Jack and I were good friends, but he lived in England, so we couldn’t interact in person much. We mostly kept in contact through phones and texting and Discord. We played games together, made videos together, you know. Whatever. Anyway, one day, he started acting really weird. Getting all jumpy and stuff. He didn’t want to talk about it, but I know he started going to therapy for stuff. Then he uploads this really weird video to his YouTube channel on Halloween, and follows it up by saying his channel got hacked and he was going to take a break. It was... really concerning. So I called him up. Asked him what was wrong. And he immediately started saying stuff about something being in his house, how he was being watched, how the computers weren’t safe.”

“Oh no...” Stacy whispered. Beside her, she felt Mathew tense up.

“Yeah.” Mark nodded. “Sounds like that weird real-life error you guys ran into, right? Well, hindsight is 20-20, because I didn’t make the connection at the time. I thought he was being stalked. That’s always a risk when you put your face out there, getting attention in a public setting. I told him to go to the police, but he said it wouldn’t be any use.” He paused. “Even though I’d known that there were strange things in the world, I didn’t see what was happening until the end. I don’t know. Maybe I didn’t want to see it. But in any case, Jack slowly stopped answering my calls and messages. The very last thing I heard from him was this text he sent me. Saying he had to try and avoid ‘it,’ that he had to try and run, but that ‘it’ would follow him, because ‘it’ wasn’t normal. ‘It’ was like a ghost.” Another pause. “The very last thing I heard from him was, ‘I think I’m being haunted. I think it wants to kill me.’”

Silence fell in the small room. Stacy shook her head slowly, unsure what to say to that. Amy put her hand on top of Mark’s and muttered something that sounded reassuring. He reached up and wiped away the gathering tears in his eyes. Then took a deep breath, and kept going.

“There wasn’t much I could do except keep trying to reach him. I mean, he lived halfway around the world. Once I realized I couldn’t get to him, I started calling his other friends who lived in the country. Apparently he said something similar to a lot of them. A couple went to check on him, but he was gone. And the police couldn’t find him. They said it looked like he left. This was all a few years ago. Now, I think his disappearance is kind of famous in certain circles. You can find true crime shows talking about it, wondering what drove him to just vanish. But I know what really happened.” Mark took another breath, shakier this time. He waved at Amy, signaling for her to finish.

“After all that,” she started, speaking delicately, “the two of us had a long talk. We decided that we had to stop stuff like that from happening to other people. There are a lot of these... monsters around. So...we try our best to do that. It’s kind of a secret. A lot of these things are smart, so we want to avoid their attention. So, sorry for not telling you when we took you guys in. We weren’t sure how you’d react.”

Stacy stared at her. She looked back over at Mark. “Did... did you guys know that there was something... strange about us?” she asked in a hushed voice.

“Well, sometimes I get a weird feeling,” Mark said. “It’s not always right, but I’ve figured out that it’s better to go with your gut with stuff like this. Even if it’s wrong, you’ll still help someone out who needs it.”

“Is this like... like a secret monster fighting group?” Larkin asked, eyes still wide.

Amy laughed. “Well, I guess. There’s more people than just us.”

“Really?” Stacy asked.

“Yeah.” Mark nodded. “Do you remember Ethan? He was the other guy in the car when we picked up you and your friend. He’s part of it. I’ve actually been talking with him a lot lately, there’s this weird ticking noise in both of our houses that’s been getting louder—”

“So that is a weird thing!” Larkin cried out. “I thought you just had really loud clocks!”

Mark laughed. “No, we checked. It’s still there without a single clock in the house. It hasn’t done anything yet but be really annoying, but we’re preparing. We think it’ll stop sometime in November, so we’re all planning to be out of both houses by then. You guys too, obviously, if you’re still here.”

“Are...you going to let us stay here?” Stacy asked, bracing herself for the worst.

Mark and Amy looked at each other. “Well it’s a bit more complicated with the guy attached to you now,” Amy said slowly. “Do you think it’ll do anything to anyone else?”

“I...don’t know,” Stacy said slowly. Again, she felt something squeeze her shoulder. And she thought she heard a whispered voice. “Uh...I’m getting the feeling...not without provoking it?”

Amy sighed. “There’s no delicate way to put this next question. Do you know what it’s going to do to you?”

Stacy hesitated. “It might...just want to...be with me. But, uh, I don’t want to know what that means. How it’ll, uh...go about doing that.”

“We can get you a hotel room if you guys want,” Mark offered. “Until we figure out how to get rid of it.”

The grip on her shoulder tightened painfully. “Ah!” She cried out, instinctively clapping her hand over the spot. She pulled it away with her palm covered in dust. “I-it doesn’t like that. But...you can do that?”

“There’s no magic cure-all,” Amy hurried to explain. “We can’t just wave a wand and make it go away. But there’s a way to deal with all of these things.”

“They don’t want you to know that, but there is,” Mark agreed. “Sometimes the way is really elaborate and nonsensical, and pretty hard to get right, with big consequences for messing up. But there’s always a way.”

Stacy blinked. She wasn’t sure if the tears in her eyes were relief, or just reaction to the dust. “And...what about John?”

“Your friend?” Amy and Mark looked at each other again. “Well, uh...”

“I mean, we’d have to find him first,” Mark said.

“But maybe we can do that? Remember that weird necklace?”

“That’s right! Can we use that?”

“Maybe? It won’t be easy.”

“Well, anyway.” Mark looked back at Stacy. “If we can find him, we’ll help him out. It’ll take time to figure stuff out, though. For him, and for you guys.”

“That’s fine,” Stacy said quietly. It was the best chance they’d had in a while. “Thank you. Thank you so, so much.”

“It’s the least we can do,” Amy reassured her, leaning over the table to pat her knee.

Stacy took a deep breath. There was a light feeling in her chest that she’d almost forgotten. It was possible to escape. It was possible to get rid of this thing that had been following them. It was possible to lead a normal life again. For her, for her boys...and for John.

She wondered if he was alright, wherever he was.

* * * * * * * * * *

It had to happen eventually. Even if he really, really, really didn’t want it to, he knew there was only so long you could wander through a country before finding yourself in a large, urban area.

True, the United States had a lot more empty space and small towns than Europe did. So it took him a while to stumble upon one of the big cities. He was pretty sure he’d made it...maybe halfway across the country from Los Angeles before he reached this one. He wasn’t sure. Even though he’d been to the States a few times to meet up with friends and sightsee, it wasn’t like he had its layout memorized. But he did know that he covered a lot of ground.

He also knew that he’d never been to this city before. It was one of the cleaner cities he’d been in, not a lot of trash on the street or abandoned storefronts. But it was still a city, and that meant it was still a little dirty, just by virtue of the sheer amount of people living and working and passing through here.

Oh yeah. People.

He sat on the front steps of a store and watched them. Pedestrians walking by, cars driving past, even train tracks running along the middle of the street, with a train coming every five minutes. Everywhere he looked, he saw people. And the more he saw, the more his anxiety tried to crawl up his throat.

There was a faint humming in his ears. Not the busy hum of city noise. Something else. Something that he felt more than heard, felt in his bones and his eye. His fingers twitched. So he folded his arms and tucked them under his armpits.

The store door opened, nearly knocking him off the step. “Oh! Sorry!” said the woman who’d opened it. Her eyes glanced down at him. She hesitated, then when he didn’t say anything, she moved on, walking down the street with a shopping bag dangling from her hand.

The humming grew louder, clawing at the inside of his skin. He stood up and started walking. Movement, he found, helped to quiet it a little. And besides, he needed to explore the city.

Luckily, this place was pretty easy to navigate. He’d discovered that cities in the US usually had a pretty orderly street layout, and this one was up there in terms of order. For a while, he wandered, figuring out how everything connected and where things were. Eventually, though, his stomach grumbled. It was doing that recently.

With that, he stopped, and tried to figure out what to do from here. He had to get out of this city as soon as possible. There were so many people around. And when there were more people, the humming was always louder. His fingers twitched more often. He had to get out of here. But he currently only had five dollars and fifty cents in his pocket. That was enough for train or bus fare—he’d checked that—but that didn’t leave much left to buy food. He could always try asking for money or food, but that didn’t always get results. Plus, it required approaching someone. Probably multiple someones. And the back of his mind was humming...

After a moment of standing there and thinking, he made a decision. His stomach was twisting around, trying to eat itself. He needed the energy to keep going. And he was going to keep going. He wasn’t about to give this thing the satisfaction of running him to death. There was probably a fast food place in the city somewhere that had some sort of “dollar special.” All he needed was a sandwich and a drink, then he could try to figure out a bus or train route out of here.

Indeed, he found one soon enough. And, luckily, it looked pretty empty. But he still braced himself before stepping through the door. An inside was a lot worse than an outside. Because an inside usually had electronics. And electronics gave power to the thing that had grabbed hold of him. Especially electronic communication.

His stomach growled again, drawing his attention back to the empty pit inside him.

He took a deep breath, and pushed through the door.

Barely five minutes later, he was outside again, holding a paper cup of water and a paper bag with a burger and fries. He let out that breath he’d taken, and hurried down the sidewalk. The streets were a bit emptier than they were before, probably courtesy of the gloomy sky overhead, but there had to be an especially empty place where he could sit and eat without worrying about anything.

Wait. There was. He remembered seeing a small park nearby. What street was it on? 2nd East or 2nd West? He’d turned right at some point, so he should turn left now...

His muscle memory proved reliable, and he quickly found the small park he’d seen earlier. There wasn’t anyone walking around it, or sitting under its trees, or playing on the slides, swings, and jungle gyms at one end. He sighed, and sat down on a bench.

He absolutely devoured the food. Vaguely, he remembered hearing something about how you shouldn’t eat fast, but he didn’t care. The last time he had something to eat was yesterday morning, before getting on the bus that kicked him out in this urban area. Sure, he was still hungry afterwards, but a bit less hungry.

He was putting his trash in the nearest garbage can when he felt it. A drop of something cold on the back of his hand. He froze. Maybe it was nothing? But no. He could see small, circular dots of water on the rim of the garbage can. A few of them. Then, quickly, more. It was raining.

Panic surged through him. He pulled up the hood of his jacket and ran to stand beneath the nearest tree. In just a minute, water was falling from the sky, pounding on the pavement. No. No no no, it couldn’t rain now. He didn’t have a tent. He didn’t know where in this city he could stay. The trees in the park were alright, but if it rained hard, which it looked like it might, their branches and leaves weren’t enough to keep out all the water. He was going to get soaked. Which was fine if you could change out of your wet clothes after. Bad if, like him, you didn’t have any other clothes. Sleeping wrapped in wet cloth was a good way to get sick. A cold at best, hypothermia at worst.

His gaze darted around, looking for anywhere he could wait out the rain. He’d rather risk the dangers of an inside than stand outside right now. There were stores and restaurants, but they might kick him out if he didn’t buy anything, which he couldn’t because he needed to use his money for fare—

Then he saw it. There was a tall glass building across the street from the park, with a sign over the doorway designating it the library. Perfect. Libraries couldn’t kick people out unless it was closing time. And the rain might be over by then. He glanced to the right and left, looking for cars, then broke into a run.

Success. He managed to get into the library with only his outer layer of clothing getting rained on, and only slightly. A sigh of relief escaped his throat, and he looked around.

This was a very modern library, which he wasn’t used to. The outside walls were almost all glass, and the carpet had a funky design of colored triangles. One side of the library had glass elevators and a curving staircase leading up. A floor plan told him that there were five floors, each of which had different sections. A big display in front of the entrance listed perfect books for the upcoming fall. Was it really almost fall?

He wandered further in. A big, curving desk sat right by the front entrance. There were three people behind it: an older woman working on a computer, and a man with a dark beard, talking to a young blond woman. He stared at the desk. He could see the backs of computer monitors. The older woman was typing. Clack clack clack clack clack... clack clack clack clack clack... the sounds echoed in his head...

“Hi, can I help you?”

He blinked, snapping out of it. The bearded man and the blond woman  were looking at him. In fact, the blonde was staring at him pretty blatantly, her gray eyes magnified behind a pair of cat’s eye glasses with gems on the points. “Um...I just… wanted to look...” he said slowly.

The bearded man nodded. “Well, if you ever need anything, feel free to ask our staff.” He tapped a nametag on his chest, identifying him as ‘Brandon.’

“Thanks.” He started to turn away, then realized something, and turned back. “Uh... where are your bathrooms?”

“There’s one on each floor, all the way at the back.” Brandon gestured towards the back of the library. “Usually in a little alcove. Building layout is a little weird.”

“Thanks,” he mumbled again, and started to walk in that direction. The blonde with the cat’s eye glasses continued to stare at him as he walked past.

He passed by shelves of books, into a section of shelves reserved for DVDs, and then found the little alcove that Brandon mentioned. Sure enough, the bathrooms were tucked away back here. He went into the men’s bathroom and took care of things, then stopped and stood in front of the bathroom mirror.

His reflection stared back at him. A near-perfect copy of him, showing him the new dark circles under his eyes, and the new streaks of gray in his wild hair. When had he started looking so much older than he actually was?

He blinked.

After a second, his reflection blinked back.

His breath caught in his throat, and he backed away from the mirror. The reflection stayed exactly where it was. Above him, the bathroom’s fluorescent lights flickered and buzzed louder. The reflection blinked again. And then it smiled.

“No,” he said under his breath. “No no no no no...” It was more of a reflex than a genuine reaction at this point. He shook his head and closed his eyes. The lights flickered again and buzzed even louder, the sound joining with the humming to drown out everything else. He couldn’t even hear himself as he continued to mutter “No no no...” over and over again. The sound filled in the empty spaces in his nerves. It was almost everywhere, but he fought and struggled towards the small bit of quiet. Like he was fighting his way through levels of sleep to try and escape a nightmare.

He didn’t open his eyes until the humming subsided. It was still a little bit louder than it was outside, but that was expected. So he took a deep breath and looked around.

This wasn’t the bathroom. He was clearly still in the library, but not on the first floor. A glass wall nearby showed a view of the city from a couple stories off the ground. The rain was coming down hard, a lot harder than it had when he walked into the library. How much time had he spent fighting off the humming? It must have been a while. Did he just wander around in that lost time? Or did something worse happen?

Around him were tables, each with about four wheeled chairs. And each with four computers on their surface. His heart stopped for a minute as his eyes immediately latched onto them. Desktops, with a monitor, mouse, and keyboard each. Some had people sitting at them. He counted how many: six. Six people. All calm. All unharmed. For a moment, he felt relief.

And then the computer monitors all turned to static in unison.

He cried out, staggering backwards as if physically hurt. The six people at the computers paid him no mind—too confused, frustrated, and annoyed by their screens glitching out to notice him.

The static shifted, changing colors, blocks of red green and blue, then stripes of yellow, pink, and cyan. The computers that had their sound turned on started emitting a strange electric screeching from their speakers, causing four of the users to visibly jump in surprise. The screeching shifted, still irregular, and yet his mind could parse words from the pure noise.

Iê£ÆĠcanÇŚă¢doż×IJūwhateverŀÔÜI¡¿ŐwantŌĤ¹Ŵÿto¬ôÌšyou.

ÑŞõċČŊºRemember?ĂľďŌËÇ

He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. That was true. He’d promised that. And it was much preferable that it happen to him than to Stacy, Mathew, and Larkin. But that didn’t make it much better.

His fingers twitched. And then his wrist. And then his arm started to fold, lifting his hand upwards towards his face—towards his eye-patch. Panic caught in his throat. He reached up with his other hand and grabbed his own wrist, trying to pull his hand down. But that other arm also wasn’t listening to him, and merely held the first for a moment, barely stalling it. He swayed on his feet. Despite his best efforts, his hand reached up and pulled off his eye-patch.

Warm blood trickled from his eye. The panic choked him, and he switched tactics. He pressed his hand up against his now-exposed eye, holding it closed. Then he added his other hand to the pressure for good measure. He felt his eye moving under the lid, darting frantically. A few of the computer users had noticed him by now, but weren’t sure how to respond to this strange display.

żĹ÷Don’tđ³ôřĶăfightŋšůĕŷit.

He pressed further against his eye, pushing it back into his head. It kind of hurt, but not nearly enough to stop him. He listed to the side, then stumbled to regain his balance without moving his hands. Behind his closed eye, he started to see fuzz. Colorless patterns of dots and lines. His open eye darted around the room, watching as the static on the computer monitors slowly shifted, mimicking the patterns.

Suddenly, his vision disappeared entirely. The blood rushed from his head and he completely lost his balance, falling to the floor. Things went briefly black, and he wasn’t able to brace himself against the hard landing. A few seconds later, everything came back into focus, but he continued to just lie there, waiting for the light-headed feeling to fade.

A person’s shadow fell over him. “Are—”

“Get the fuck away from me!” He sat up—so quickly it was amazing he didn’t faint again—and swung wildly at the figure of the person. His hand connected, and the person shouted and backed up.

It... it definitely was a person. Not some glitching monstrosity. In fact, it was that blonde with the cat’s eye glasses. Her hand pressed against the spot at the bottom of her ribs where he’d ended up hitting her, and she stared down at him with a horrified look.

Blood was dripping down his face, which suddenly went white as he realized what she was looking at. Just to confirm, he glanced back at the glass wall, and caught his reflection in it. His right eye was fully visible, its sclera a sickly bright green. He gasped, and looked away. Where was it?! There! His eye-patch had fallen to the floor. He quickly snatched it up, scrambled to his feet, and burst into a run, pushing past the blonde and getting away from the computers as fast as possible.

He ran until he saw the staircase and elevators, and then he continued to run up the stairs. He only stopped when the staircase did, depositing him at a little reception-like area, barely big enough for a desk, a few chairs, and a doorway that led out to the library’s roof. It was completely empty. This was probably some sort of employee-only area. But he didn’t care. He collapsed in the nearest chair, nearly falling out, and fumbled with the eye-patch until he managed to wrap it back around his head. His chest rose and fell quickly, and he concentrated on trying to slow it down. He curled his hands into fists to stop his fingers from twitching.

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A sob caught in a throat. More warm liquid spilled from his eyes, but just clear this time, not red. He pulled his legs onto the chair’s seat and buried his head in his knees. Then he waited. For the rain to stop, a staff member to find him, or possibly...something else.

* * * * * * * * * *

When he woke up, his first instinct was to wonder what he’d done while he was out. But, thankfully, he quickly recognized the feeling of actual sleep, not unconsciousness or worse. It was actually a nice nap. One without dreams, which he was always grateful for.

He looked around. This small reception area was still empty. But there was something missing... Oh, right. The sound of rain on the roof. He glanced at the glass door leading outside and clear skies, but skies that were noticeably darker than before. A couple hours must have passed, making it evening.

The library might be closing soon. And since there was no more rain, he should get out of here as soon as possible. Either catch a train or bus, or try to find somewhere he could stay the night. With that new goal in mind, he stood up, stretched his muscles, winced as they ached from sleeping in an awkward position, then headed down the staircase.

He reached the first floor without incident. The desk by the front entrance was still staffed by the bearded man, though the older woman had been replaced by a teenage boy. He stared at the two of them for a moment before turning and leaving, pushing through the doors and onto the street.

It was indeed evening. The streetlights were starting to turn on. He looked around, trying to figure out where to go next. Maybe there was a bus stop this way? Only a little bit sure, he started walking down the street.

He passed a strange, downward-sloping street and paused to look at it. Oh, this was an entrance to some sort of parking garage. He saw a clearance warning and a pair of toll booths down near the bottom. There was a gray van stopped on this slope, about to come out. They were probably waiting for him to cross and didn’t expect him to stop right in front of the entrance like an idiot. So he quickly moved on, reaching the sidewalk on the other side.

“Hey!”

The shout came from behind him. He immediately tensed, and slowly turned around. It was...the blond woman with the cat’s eye glasses. She was looking at him and waving as she walked closer.

“I want to talk to you!” she shouted. “Stay right there, I’m coming to you!” And she started to cross the parking garage entrance.

Strange. His guard immediately went up, but... she seemed real. She seemed human. He’d been around enough weird stuff to pick up on when something wasn’t either of those things. But why did she want to talk to him? Was it about him hitting her? Shame curled around his stomach.

He opened his mouth to say something, to apologize, when the gray van drove up in front of him. It mostly passed by, then stopped. Strange. What was it—

The van’s back doors flew open.

His instincts kicked in and he turned to run, but he’d been worn down into exhaustion from so long wandering around, on barely any food or rest. He wasn’t fast enough to avoid the hands that grabbed him from behind, pulling him into the darkness of the van. “Hel—!” His yell was cut off by another hand clamping over his mouth. He struggled, arms and legs flailing wildly. Whispered shouts surrounded him, arguing.

And then something hit the back of his head hard and everything went black.

* * * * * * * * * *

This time when he woke up, he wasn’t left with the groggy confusion of a sudden nap. Instead, his head was pounding, a nail of pain jabbing into his temple. His face instinctively scrunched up in response, and something pulled at his skin. That was... weird. He cracked open his eye to look around.

He was sitting on a chair in a basement. More specifically, he was tied to a wooden chair in a basement. His wrists were pulled behind him, held in place by rope, and there was another coil of rope around his chest. Meanwhile, his ankles were tied to a wooden beam that connected the front two chair legs together. The sticky thing pulling at his face turned out to be duct tape: some over his mouth, and some over his right eye.

The basement, meanwhile, looked... pretty normal. There was a rough carpet and unpainted plaster walls. Bare lightbulbs dangled from exposed beams overhead. A washing machine and a dryer were pushed against the wall to his left. On the wall across from him was a high, small window. And on the wall to his right was an open door. Standing in the doorway was a young man with dark hair. He was probably no older than twenty-four, but was very in shape for his age, wearing a black tank top that showed off his muscles. Currently, he was facing away, out the doorway.

Well. This was a new situation. He raised his head further, shifting position as much as the ropes would allow. His whole body was aching again, indicating he’d been sitting here for a while.

“Ah!” The young man’s head whipped back over to look at him, probably catching movement in the corner of his vision. He said something under his breath—it sounded like Spanish, maybe?—and disappeared through the doorway.

He stared at the spot where the young man had been. The door was still open. That was a bit weird. You’d think that if you had someone tied up in your basement, you would want to make sure they stayed there. Well, if the door was open, he might as well try an escape, right? He started wriggling, trying to pull his wrists free.

He didn’t get very far before he heard the voices. Hushed tones coming from the open doorway. He stopped struggling and just stared towards it. Just in time to see two faces appear, leaning in from the side. A young man with long strawberry blond curls pulled back in a ponytail, and a young woman with black chin-length hair. They disappeared as soon as he made eye contact, and the hushed discussion grew louder, to the point where he could understand what they were saying.

“—just sitting there.”

“Are we sure about this?”

“Guys, trust me. You weren’t there.”

“He does give me the creeps.”

“Maybe he’s just a creepy guy. We probably just kidnapped a homeless person.”

“Are we gonna go to jail?”

“Why didn’t any of you say this when I brought it up? It’s really easy to be like, ‘no, let’s not grab this guy,’ you know.”

“Can we just let him go if we’re wrong? Would he report it to the police?”

“All we’d have to do is get rid of all evidence, and they wouldn’t be able to convict.”

Okay. He was starting to figure out why the guy left the door open when he disappeared. It was because none of these people—four of them, it sounded like—had any experience in kidnapping people. Good. If he was going to be held captive, he’d prefer the captors to be incompetent. But that still left the question of why they did it in the first place.

The discussion continued for a while longer, before one of them said loudly, “Alright! We’ll all go in and look at him then!”

“What? All of us? What if something happens?”

“Safety in numbers. You can stand in the door if you want. Any other objections?”

Silence.

“Alright. Let’s go, then. Who’s going in first?”

“I’ll do it.”

And with that, four people slowly filed into the basement room. He sat up straight, giving them all a good look. They were all around the same age. The young man with the black hair from before was back. He stayed in the doorway, arms crossed in a manner that would’ve been intimidating if there wasn’t so much anxiety in his face. The other three stepped fully into the room. In front was the young man with the strawberry blond ponytail. He was the tallest of the group, and the only one that didn’t look a little nervous. In back was the young woman with black hair. She fidgeted with the fingers of the gloves she wore. And in the middle...was the blonde with cat’s eye glasses from the library. She held herself confidently, but was clearly on edge.

“He just looks like a guy,” said the ponytailed man.

“No, trust me!” the blonde insisted. “All the computers glitched out while he was around. A-and the lights. And you didn’t see his eye, that wasn’t normal.”

“Well we can’t see his eye now,” the black-haired woman pointed out.

“I covered it up for a reason! It just...it looked at me funny.”

“It was open—wide, wide open—and I grew furious as I gazed upon it,” the ponytailed man said, in the tone of voice one uses when quoting a line of literature. “And so by degrees, I made up my mind to take the life of the man, and thus rid myself of the eye foreve—”

The blonde shoved him. “I’m not crazy, Michael!”

“To be fair,” said the young man by the door, “he is staring at us in a freaky way.”

He rolled his eye. What did they expect him to do, when he was tied to a chair and couldn’t talk? Not stare at them? It didn’t seem like a good idea to look away from the people who kidnapped you.

“Leo’s got a point,” said the black-haired woman. “I have one of those feelings around him. It’s like my arm hairs are standing up.”

“They’re called goosebumps, Rya,” the ponytailed man—Michael said. “It’s cold down here.”

“No—well, yes,” the black-haired woman—Rya admitted. “But it’s different. It’s almost like...like one of those plasma balls you put your hands on. Electric.”

“See? Electricity would make the computers go crazy,” the blonde said.

“Look, I don’t like the stare,” the man by the door—Leo said. “But it’s not right to tie someone up for having a creepy stare. Diane, do you think anything bad would happen if the rest of us... checked?”

The blonde—Diane hesitated. “I guess not,” she said slowly. “Uh... Michael?”

“Yeah, I’m doing it.” Michael started walking forward, easily closing the distance to the chair where their captive was tied up. He reached out.

For a moment, he leaned his head back. The humming had been almost inaudible before, but as Michael’s hand got closer, it grew louder. But there was only so far he could tilt it. So he gave up, holding his breath as Michael grabbed the edge of a duct tape piece and slowly pulled. He braced himself for the pain that would come as his eyebrow hair and eyelashes stuck to the tape, but surprisingly, it didn’t hurt that much. Maybe the humming was too loud for the sensation to pierce it.

“Oh wow.” Michael raised an eyebrow of his own. “Yeah, that’s not normal.” He stepped to the side so the other three could see the now-uncovered eye.

Diane, having seen the eye before, was able to stifle her reaction. Rya and Leo, however, weren’t. Rya gasped, going white, while Leo stepped backwards until he was almost out of sight from inside the room. He came back, just as white as Rya. “See?” Diane said.

“You’re right,” Leo agreed.

“Cover it back up!,” Rya hissed.

Michael nodded and replaced the duct tape, walking back over to where he was previously standing. “So...now what?” he asked.

“We get rid of it,” Rya said. “Like the others.”

A pit opened in his stomach as his mind leapt to a few conclusions. One: these four people probably had experience with the strange, monstrous things in the world. Two: they’d managed to get rid of some of them. Three: they kidnapped him because Diane thought he might be one of those things. Four: they were going to do the same thing to him. Immediately he started shaking his head, trying to protest through the duct tape.

“That is a, uh...weirdly human reaction,” Leo said.

“Some of them are really good mimics,” Rya replied.

“I know, it just feels...” Leo hesitated. “...bad.”

Diane stared at Leo for a moment. Then turned to look at him, tied to the chair. He stared back at her, silently pleading and gently shaking his head. “This does feel weird,” she muttered.

“That might just be because this is the first time one of them’s been in the house,” Michael said. 

“Either way, we don’t know what will get rid of this one,” Diane said. “Remember the Hallowed Halls incident? We don’t want another one of those.” The other three all made similar noises of frustration and regret. “Right? So...I guess we’ll just leave it here, then. Try to figure out how things work with it.”

“We’re really going to keep this in the house?!” Rya protested. “Where we sleep? Where we eat? Where we do laundry?! What if it escapes?!”

“Well—” Diane started to say.

“Nope!” Leo shook his head. “Nope. We’re not discussing this right in front of it so it can hear our plan. Everyone, out.”

“What about guard duty?” Michael pointed out.

Rya sighed. “I’ll stay. Michael, I’m trusting you to argue my points.”

“Rad.” Michael made an okay sign with his hand.

The four of them filed out again, with Rya stopping in the doorway. She stared at him. He stared at her. He felt his fingers twitch. So he looked away. His head twitched, wanting to turn back, but he wouldn’t let it. One of the dangling lightbulbs overhead flickered.

* * * * * * * * * *

A full two days passed. He was surprised that his main feeling about this new situation wasn’t fear, but rather boredom. You couldn’t do much while tied to a chair. And it was clear this group wasn’t about to untie him anytime soon. One of them was always waiting in the doorway, even at night when the small basement window became dark, either standing or sitting on a folding chair. They went in shifts that lasted a few hours. He tried not to look at them. But the humming reminded him that they were always there.

Their reactions to him varied. Leo seemed to take this guard duty most seriously, as he stood or sat there the whole shift and watched. True, he did jump a little every time he shifted position, but he never left or took his eyes away. Diane was also very intense in her watching. He could feel her eyes on him the most clearly, boring into him, studying him through the lenses of her glasses.

Rya was a bit different. She clearly wanted to watch him as intently as the other two did, but couldn’t. Maybe she had trouble focusing. Or maybe she was just too busy. He saw her sitting with a textbook a lot, reading and taking notes on the information inside. Once, she brought a laptop. But the humming grew louder, and she suddenly cried out, shooting to her feet and almost dropping the computer. She stared at him, breathless, then turned and ran away. He heard her footsteps go up a set of stairs, then a few seconds later, Michael came down to replace her.

Out of all of them, Michael was the most relaxed. Strangely relaxed, in fact. His definition of ‘watching’ was more like ‘reading a novel or drawing in a sketchbook and occasionally glancing up.’ It was actually pretty strange that he was so nonchalant. If these four really believed him to be a monster, and the other three were so vigilant, why did Michael act so casually around him?

It was confusing, but after two days, he had a chance to figure it out.

Michael came down for guard duty in what was probably the afternoon, judging from the light from the window. Unlike the other times, he didn’t have a book or notepad with him. Instead, he’d brought a basket of dirty laundry. He walked right into the basement room and dropped the basket by the washing machine, then turned around and left again. A minute later, he returned with another laundry basket, dropping it off. And another minute later, he came back with a third basket, which he started loading into the washing machine.

It was so utterly weird that this guy was doing chores while a man was tied up in the same room that he just had to stare at him, instead of avoiding him like he tried to. Michael seemed to feel this gaze, because he turned to look at him in turn. “Hope you don’t mind,” he said, voice and face completely serious. Then he returned to loading the laundry.

What. The fuck.

After a while, the first load was in the machine, complete with a plastic pod of laundry soap, and Michael started the cycle. A few minutes passed. Michael’s eyes darted back and forth between the machine and him. At first, lingering longer on the laundry. Then, slowly, paying more attention to him.

His stomach growled. He felt it twist in on itself, searching for something that wasn’t there.

“So do you need, like, actual food and water then?” Michael asked, clearly hearing the sound. “You know. Stuff humans would eat.”

He nodded.

“Oh shit. Well, I guess that’s one way we could kill you.”

He flinched, more out of surprise than fear.

Michael laughed. “That’s a joke. Mostly.” He fell silent for a while, staring at the machine again. The room was filled with the sound of water and tumbling. Then, Michael sighed, and looked back at him. “Do you have a name? A human name we can call you?”

Again, he nodded.

“Hmm.” Michael pursed his lips. Then, he seemed to make a decision, and walked over to the chair. He reached out.

This time, he didn’t try to lean away when the hand approached. He stayed as still as he could as the duct tape over his mouth was peeled away. Once it was gone, he took a deep breath, and licked his lips. They were dry.

“What’s the name, then?” Michael asked.

“...John.” His voice was harsh from disuse.

“Really?” Michael stared at him. “Couldn’t come up with anything better?”

“You won’t be able to remember my name even if I said it,” John mumbled. “John is fine.”

“Hmm. Cool.”

“I—I really am human, you know,” John hurried to say. “I know it doesn’t seem like it. But there’s—something got to me, too, so that’s why—”

“Wait, you’re not gonna say like, ‘what am I doing here’ or anything?” Michael asked. “Or ‘let me go’?”

“I...think I’ve figured out why I’m here,” John said haltingly. “But, uh, for the second one...” He trailed off. Would it really do any good to be free again? He’d just end up wandering around, trying to avoid people and electronics. On the other hand, right now, he was stuck with four people and their electronics for sure. Even if it was less of them. Was it better to try and avoid worse, or better to try and find somewhere else? Somewhere everyone would be safe from him...and it.

“Rya’s really good at spotting when things aren’t what they’re supposed to be,” Michael said, not noticing the way John’s voice faded. “See, a few years ago, she had this friend she met in one of her classes. They got along really well. Almost supernaturally so. And soon, Rya found it hard to resist what her friend was suggesting. She’s never done drugs, but she’s always said that being around them was probably what it was like to be on them. What snapped her out of it was when they got in a fight with some other classmates at a party and Rya broke one of their noses. She confronted this friend about what happened, and verbally refused to see them anymore. Next thing she knew, the illusion fell away, and she could see that her friend was actually a monster that only looked human. It wished her luck, and walked off, and she never saw it again. But ever since, she’s been good at figuring out stuff that’s...more. And she says that you, Mr. John, are ‘more.’”

John swallowed a lump in his throat. “Um. Weird question. Did this friend of hers wear a red hood?”

Michael blinked, surprised, and stepped back. “How’d you know that?”

“It sounded familiar,” John mumbled. “I’ve, um...met that one.”

“Huh.” Michael’s head tilted to one side. He stared at him, but in a different way. Like he was analyzing him. “Have you, uh...met a lot of these things?”

“More than most people.”

“Huh,” Michael said again. He walked backwards, turned and walked a little to the side, only to walk back to where he was before. That must have helped him make another decision, because he said, “We’ve met a few of these monster guys. Would you know them all?”

“Not all of them ever,” John muttered. “Can you describe them?”

Michael paused. “You ever met a guy in a cabin in the woods?”

“Not in America.”

“Oh yeah, you are some kind of European. I was wondering.” Michael laughed. “Okay. But you’ve been to the US before, then? I mean, you’re here now.”

“A couple times,” John said carefully. “But not long enough to, uh...get acquainted with some of the... regional... things. Some of them can go anywhere in the world, though. I might know them.”

“Was one of these things a weird book lady?” Michael asked.

John blinked. “You’re gonna have to be more specific.”

“An old lady who was connected to a book,” Michael added. “Well, not actually an old lady, but it looked like one. And it’s not around anymore. But when it was, either the stories influenced it, or it influenced the stories.”

John shook his head. “Sorry.”

“Alright. What about a...a traveling circus?”

There was something in Michael’s tone that time that made John look at him more closely. “Is that one... personal?”

“Oh, am I that obvious? Shit.” Michael grinned a little. “I’m not that good at hiding things. Not very subtle, I’ve been told.” The grin fell. “So? Have you? Is it still around?”

Even though John had seen a lot of creepy places in the past few years, he’d never run into the classic creepy circus, or anything related to that idea. He opened his mouth to say as much, but instead what came out was, “Yes. It is.”

“...ah.” Michael looked away, putting his hands in his pockets like he was trying to be casual. “Should’ve known. That’s on me. Well, thanks anyway.”

“You’re... welcome,” John said, confused. He tried to explain that he didn’t know why he said that, but the words were caught in between his thought and his intention, dying before even reaching his throat.

His head was starting to ache. The humming was pounding at his skull, as if trying to burst through from inside.

“Well, we’ve seen more than a few things out there,” Michael continued. “Have you—”

“Do you have a last name?” John suddenly asked.

Michael blinked. He laughed. “Weird question. You know, even if you’re human, I don’t think I should say—”

“Is it Cardinal?”

Instantly, Michael stopped. He stared at John, who stared back silently, finding it hard to form words through the humming but still trying to say he didn’t mean to say that. “I will neither confirm nor deny anything,” Michael said slowly. “Why do you ask?”

“Do you not know? Do you think that was stolen, too?” John asked, not knowing what he was saying.

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about you.” His arms twitched. Then his head. “Isn’t it obvious?”

Michael laughed. It sounded a bit different than his other laughs. There was no lightness. “You know, if anyone walked in right now, they’d think you were crazy.”

“Do you think the mirror twin took that, too?”

The silence in the room was broken only by the sound of the washing machine, deafening in the emptiness. “What... are you talking about?” Michael repeated in a hushed voice.

John’s mouth twitched. He fought back the smile that was creeping onto his face, struggling to grab onto a clear thought in the humming that was growing louder, louder, louder. “Once upon a time, there was a family,” his voice said. “The youngest daughter was afraid of clowns, but she really wanted to get over it, so all five of them went to an old-fashioned traveling circus. It was very fun, but as the sun got close to setting, they thought they should leave. But the oldest child, the only son, really wanted to try out the funhouse, so they all went inside.”

Michael took a step backwards.

“Just like the rest of the day, it was really fun.” John tried to grit his teeth to stem the flow of words, but the muscles in his jaw weren’t responding. “Seeing strange reflections in the distorted mirrors was hilarious. The son found it so funny, in fact, that he spent a long, long time looking at them, and when he finally took his eyes away, he saw he was alone, and his family was nowhere to be seen. He thought he’d just wandered off, so he turned and left to search for them. But no matter how far he walked, he couldn’t find his family. And no matter how far he walked, he couldn’t find the funhouse entrance. When his feet started to hurt, he thought he had to be going in circles. The funhouse wasn’t this big from the outside. He tried resting a hand on the right wall of mirrors, but that didn’t work. He kept turning left, but never ran into the same mirror twice.”

“How do you know this?” Michael whispered.

John’s eye twitched. “You told me, Michael,” his voice said quietly, and laughed through clamped teeth. “You don’t know that you did, but you did.” The duct tape over his right eye was starting to loosen as liquid welled beneath it. “You kept turning left, but never ran into the same mirror twice. You were all alone, except for the infinite reflections of you in the glass. But they didn’t look like you, with how the curved surfaces warped the image. Because of how strange they were, you didn’t notice for the longest time that something was wrong.”

“Don’t...” It was a plea trying to sound like a command.

“You didn’t notice that you weren’t alone. Because you still were. But you weren’t. But you were. Because the person staring at you in the glass was yourself.”

“Don’t!” Michael rushed forward, covering John’s mouth with his hand. Then he yelped and immediately drew it back. His palm was bleeding. Not from a bite mark, like one would expect. But from a scratch. In one end of the scratch, a bit of copper wire dug into his skin. He plucked it out. The pinprick of pain made him wince.

“A perfect twin,” John continued, even as a trickle of blood came from the corner of his mouth, and another spilled out from behind the loose duct tape over his eye. “A perfect version of you. And you saw it, and you knew it wasn’t a reflection just from the look in its eyes. As soon as you realized that, it stopped pretending. It saw you, and it grinned. You turned to run, but it followed you on the other side of the glass, its body distorting with the curve of the mirrors. You couldn’t run forever. But your twin could.”

Michael opened his mouth as if to say something else, but nothing came out. He just stared at John in shock. John stared back, trying to claw his way through the humming white noise, just for a split second, just long enough to cry out. The lightbulbs overhead flickered readily.

His voice continued. “And just when you thought you were smart enough, just when you thought you were clever enough in your twists and turns to lose it, you saw it in front of you, in a perfect, clear mirror. You saw its hand reach out and press against the glass. You saw that glass begin to crack and break under the pressure. You turned to run, but you heard the sound of shattering behind you, and the sound of your own laugh.”

One of the lightbulbs blew, sending glass everywhere. Michael didn’t react to it, eyes locked on John.

The white noise was growing so loud, so deafening that he could barely hear his own voice as it continued. The white noise dug its grip into him and tried to drag him into the depths. Depths that were like sleep during a restless nightmare. He grabbed into the edge and tried to do something. Then his head suddenly snapped to the side, and his hold slipped, leaving him dangling from the edge of reality with one hand.

“There were no more reflections of you in the mirrors. Only themselves, going on forever. And behind you, your laughter. But sounding sharper. You felt the instinctive fear of knowing it was going to kill you, and you wanted to keep running forever, to find a way out. But it was getting closer. You knew you would run out of time eventually. And so, you thought, why not try something new? You saw a mirror at the very end of a hall, and you broke into a run. Expecting a solid surface. But instead, the glass shattered. You landed on the floor. And when you looked over your shoulder, you saw a broken mirror set in a wall. Shards of glass surrounding you as if the mirror suddenly exploded outward.”

Michael rubbed his arms. As if beneath his long sleeves, he was feeling the phantom pain of scars.

John’s mouth twisted into a smile. Blood rimmed his teeth. His body leaned forward, straining against the ropes. “But it wasn’t over. You thought it was. The circus was closed, so you hopped the fence to climb home, expecting your family to be worried. But they screamed. They told you to get out. They called the police. You looked at the pictures on the mantle, and saw the family portrait you’d all taken on vacation last year. Except you weren’t in it. Were you? Did you know this family at all? Or did you just think you did?’ His voice paused. “Either way, you had nothing. When the police came, you told them you were confused, and couldn’t remember a lot of things. It wasn’t a lie. You still don’t know what that family’s name was for sure. The driver’s license in your pocket had only a blank space where the last name was, and an empty square for a picture.”

“You don’t scare me,” Michael finally said.

The smile widened. “No, I don’t. Nothing scares you anymore, Michael. When you should feel scared, you only feel cautious, aware of the empty space where fear should be. The mirror twin meant to vanish you and replace you, but you escaped before the process was complete, leaving you with some...empty spaces. Are you just an empty space in the world now? Are you—nhmgh.”

Michael blinked, confused. He didn’t take a step closer but he looked like he wanted to.

“You—hghmm.” John gritted his teeth. His head shook as the humming white noise tried to drag him down. It hurt. His mind was screaming, bleeding. He suddenly lurched forward, coughing up a glob of blood. His limbs started to twitch. Then shake. His breathing grew wet and heavy. Michael glanced towards the door. “Nn—no,” John choked out. His eye rolled up to look at Michael. “H-help...”

A moment passed, filled with the sound of heavy breathing. Then, slowly, Michael stepped forward. His expression was unsure. But he still reached out.

Another lightbulb burst. John’s body lunged forward, teeth snapping, and Michael barely jerked his hand back in time to avoid getting bitten. John felt the white noise growing stronger, wrapping his mind like the ropes wrapped his body. His limbs now jerked and spasmed, straining against the restraints. A laugh tore through his throat, and Michael suddenly bolted for the door. “There are some things you can never escape!” His voice screamed. “N̢e̶ver!́”

As his voice screamed, John heard another one whisper nonsense in his nerves.

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[immabethehero]

Creepy!!! I love it!!!!

i have been thinking about @crystalninjaphoenix's horror septics au quite a bit recently.

here is another version of the same image, because i could not choose between them.

[crystalninjaphoenix]

You Horror Septic fans are not READY for what Imma drop this week

[crystalninjaphoenix]

I'm really stuck on it this week. Whichever one I don't work on will be pushed to next Sunday instead of this Sunday ^-^

[crystalninjaphoenix]

Question I've been wondering for a while now. If Distorter from the Switch AU met Misery from Horrorseptics, would they get along?

Good question! And I have a good answer.

No. Absolutely not.

They do seem similar on a surface level. Evil version of Chase, associated with gray and depression, who uses people's dark thoughts against them and gets emotionally attached to characters in the story.

But once you get beyond that they are not the same. Distorter was once a human man who was consumed by his own darkness and became a creature of pain and despair. Misery, meanwhile, is pain and despair. If anything, Distorter would be afraid of Misery. Probably the only variation of Chase out there who he would feel that way about.

[crystalninjaphoenix]

The Eternal Edifice

A Horror Septic Story

(Okay, so, out of all the things I’ve written over the four years of writing JSE fanfiction (God I can’t believe it’s been that long), this piece is probably the thing that’s MOST removed from anything JSE. In fact, you could argue that it’s technically fanfiction for a DIFFERENT YouTuber up until the end XD Anyway, that’s not important. That’s just a fun little side tangent. This is still a crucial part of the ongoing story. Onto the summary: Some time has passed, and Stacy’s been looking for a job. She hears about one and decides to check it out, but it turns out the listing wasn’t exactly honest...)

—————

Two months had passed since they arrived in the city, and summer was starting to fade. Around this time last year, Stacy was getting the kids ready for school, buying supplies and reminding them not to stay up too late. Now? She wasn’t sure if they should be enrolled. Nothing strange had happened since that...glitchy...thing had shown up a few weeks ago. But that didn’t mean everything was okay.

The family was still staying with Mark and Amy, a fact that Stacy was starting to be concerned about. She knew they were really pushing their generosity. Even though the couple had been nothing but nice about it. Stacy had started insisting on doing chores around the house to make up for it. After all, she couldn’t exactly pay rent without a job. And she was having a surprising amount of trouble finding one.

The kids were happy enough, though. Obviously there were still major problems—besides all the mental scarring from the supernatural activity, they were still probably adjusting to life in general. But they had video games and movies and other things to entertain them.

Larkin loved to play with Mark and Amy’s dogs. Stacy had also bought him a new coloring book the last time she went out. She asked Mathew if he wanted anything, too. He said he was fine, but she wanted to keep it fair, so she bought him some new headphones. Pretty cheap ones, but his old pair were starting to get frayed around the plug. Mathew’s eyes lit up when she gave them to him. He wasn’t using his phone as often, but was comfortable with the house computers, and plugged his headphones into the speakers.

Still, the threat of running out of money lingered over her head. It was frustrating that this was the thing she was most worried about, when the family had survived much worse. And there was no guarantee that the worst had passed, either. They hadn’t been bothered by anything strange since that glitchy thing, but something else could always be coming.

She wondered if John was alright. Several nights she was kept awake by doubts, asking herself if she should have gone after him. Maybe. She could have at least made sure he was alright. The last time she’d seen him, he’d been panicking and bleeding heavily from his eye. Sometimes she could hear what he shouted in the silent moments of her life: “Forget about me like everyone else does.” Maybe she should have ran after him instead of letting him just leave.

But would she have even been able to help? She’d had some time to think about it, and she was pretty sure why John had been so frantic upon hearing about the thing haunting Mathew. She knew, somewhere deep inside, why that thing had accepted his offer: “Do whatever you want to me, just leave them out of it.” But she didn’t want to put it into words. It felt...wrong somehow. Like a violation of privacy.

Still. There was nothing she could do about it now. It was hard enough to find someone in the world who had a house to find and a bank account to track. John had neither. She couldn’t do anything except ask around, and she had a hunch that wouldn’t do much. No. Right now, Stacy had to focus on her own, more immediate problems. Even though she wished she could help.

Things changed one early fall afternoon. She had just gone grocery shopping and was busy loading the foodstuffs into the various cupboards when Amy approached her. “Hey, are you still looking for a job?” she asked.

Stacy glanced at her and laughed, trying to sound lighthearted. “Yeah, I’d have let you know if I found one.”

“God, the economy must be in shambles.” Amy shook her head.

“It’s fine. The real problem is that I’m probably being too picky. I’d be fine working as, like, a waitress somewhere. Eventually I’ll save up money.” She said this, but really, Stacy doubted that she could do much on minimum wage. Sure, maybe they could eventually be able to afford a hotel room to live in instead of relying on Mark and Amy. But they needed a stable life. Still...just having a place of their own was something to settle for.

“Well, I saw this online.” Amy reached over the counter and handed her a sheet of paper. “Printed it out for you.”

Stacy took the paper, looking down at a listing that was probably taken from a job site. There were multiple positions available, but they all boiled down to, well, basically “housekeeping.” At the bottom of the listing was an address for somewhere that was technically part of the city, but so far away that it might as well have been a different city altogether. “What is it?” she muttered.

“Okay, so. You know rich people?”

“Yeah.”

“You know how they have huge houses that need a lot of stupid maintenance?”

“Yeah.” Stacy scanned the available positions again. “I’m, uh...not really qualified for—holy shit, fifty dollars an hour?!” That was more than the hourly wages of all her previous jobs combined!

Amy laughed. “Yeah, I know, right? Usually these guys tend to underpay, but I guess this guy decided to go the opposite way.” She shrugged. “Anyway. You don’t have to apply, but I thought it might be helpful. Even if it’s just a temporary solution.”

“I—This would be helpful,” Stacy said, pointing out the obvious. But as she read the listing for a third time, she noticed something odd. “There’s no, uh...there’s no listed way of contacting whoever put this up. No phone number or website or anything. Was there one on the website you got this from?”

“No, I didn’t see one,” Amy said slowly. “I guess you have to drive up there? Is...is that gonna be a problem?”

“No, it’s not a problem, just kind of weird.”

“Well, you’d probably need to go there eventually,” Amy figured. “If you’re going to be cleaning a house all the time you want to know what that house looks like.”

Stacy nodded. “I...guess I’ll drive up there. Would Saturday be a good day? I mean, can I use your car then?”

“Probably. I’ll check the calendar later to make sure nothing’s going on.”

“Great. Thank you so much, by the way, I-I really appreciate all this.”

Amy smiled. “Well don’t thank me yet. I’ll see you around.”

As she left the kitchen, Stacy scanned the address on the listing, taking out her phone to search up directions. This could work. It wasn’t her ideal job, but with that pay? Working there for even a little while was guaranteed to get her enough money to start moving on. She’d have to focus on the little things first, like clothes and other belongings, but eventually she could get a rental apartment, possibly even find an old used car. And with the more...mundane problems taken care of, she could finally turn her attention back to the more unusual ones. Maybe find some way to keep her and her kids safe for good.

* * * * * * * * * *

That Saturday, she got in the car around noon, told Mathew and Larkin that she’ll be back evening at the latest (she wasn’t sure how long this would take so she overshot it), and headed on up to the place from the listing.

The address was a long drive away. Stacy got lost a couple times, certain that she was going the wrong way. But she knew she was getting close when the houses started getting bigger. Sprawling mansions with lawns that were only slightly smaller than a football field. She didn’t know that houses like this actually existed. Apparently they do. How rich was this guy to be able to afford a place like this?

Eventually, she found her way there, turning off the main road and down a driveway that was basically a small road in and of itself. The driveway passed through some trees and ended in a circle. Beyond a short brick wall and open iron gate was the house. Or...mansion. As Stacy got out of the car, she stared up at the dark cobbled walls, broken by narrow iron windows. The design was wide, no more than maybe two stories, looking almost like several short towers stuck together. She walked up to the front entrance—marked by a couple low steps and grand banisters to either side—and knocked on the dark wooden door.

A few moments passed. Then someone called from inside, “Come in!” So she opened the door and stepped into the front hall.

The inside was just as grand as the outside. She looked around, taking in the white walls and tiled floor of the entrance, as well as its decorations, which included a large mirror. There was a balcony overhead and to the left was a wide living room. It looked like this place had a very open floor plan. 

“Oh, hello.”

There was a man in the living room. He was sitting on one of the fancy sofas, but stood up when he saw Stacy. “My name is Marcus, it’s lovely to meet you.” He walked over and held out his hand, flashing a charming smile.

“I’m Stacy. Stacy Allen.” As she shook his hand, Stacy scanned this man. He was taller than her by about half a head. His hair was black, and his eyes were a dark brown color. He wore a red long-sleeved shirt over a pair of black pants. And he looked kind of familiar, but she couldn’t quite place it. “I, uh, heard you had some openings in here. For some positions...Do I talk to you about that?”

“Yes, yes, of course. Would you like a tour, Ms. Allen?”

“Um, yes, that would be nice.”

“Fantastic.” Marcus smiled again, and turned around. “Follow me, we’ll start with the first floor.”

Stacy spent the next while following Marcus around the house, listening to him explain what each room was and what the history behind the various decorative pieces were. Apparently this was his house, something he’d inherited from his parents when they passed. He lived alone, but since the house was so big, he needed people to take care of it. That’s where the empty positions came in.

“Do you have any experience in maintaining a house? Or a garden?” Marcus asked her.

“I’m very good at cleaning,” Stacy said, carefully not saying that she didn’t have any more housekeeping experience than the average person. “I’ve never seen a house this big before, though. But I’m, uh, willing to take on a challenge!” She laughed awkwardly.

Marcus laughed as well, much more naturally than her. “I’m sure you could learn. Unfortunately I haven’t found anyone else to take on the chores yet, so you’d be the only one here. But feel free to ask me if you have any questions. Now before we go explore the cellar or the second floor, let’s take a walk around the grounds.”

It was a very long walk. Not particularly hard, as there were a lot of paved paths, but the grounds were massive. Stacy made it very clear that she was not qualified to take care of something of this size, but that “I’d be willing to learn!” Sure, maybe she didn’t want to work outside. But she was getting pretty desperate for a job at this point. Marcus assured her there would be plenty of positions inside the house, and then resumed the tour inside. They saw the cellar, the kitchens, the many parlor rooms and bedrooms, and then they returned to that first living room, right by the entrance hall.

“Alright,” Stacy said, looking around. “So...do you need my phone number to contact me? If I get the job?”

“What do you mean?” Marcus asked. “Of course you have the job!”

Stacy’s heart pounded in her chest. “Wait, really?”

“You seem like a good fit,” he said. “How soon can you start?”

“Oh, I-I don’t know.” She wasn’t expecting this at all. Maybe rich people didn’t care who did their cleaning as long as it got done? Part of her couldn’t believe this. After so long looking in the city, applying on everything online and walking into every place with a hiring sign, had she finally done it? Would she be able to buy her sons actual new clothes, instead of scouring the Goodwills for the cheapest option that was close to fitting? Could she pay Mark and Amy back for their kindness, and eventually find a place to stay? “Um...next week?”

“That would be great,” Marcus said, grinning.

“Great!” Stacy paused. “Um, I should probably get going, then.” She dug her phone out of her purse checking the time. “Oh! I-I should really get going.” She’d already been here for an hour, and it had taken her an hour to drive up here.

“Oh, are you sure you want to drive in this weather?” Marcus asked, concern lining his face.

“What weather?” Stacy turned around, looking through the windows by the door. Outside, it was dark. She frowned, and opened the door, revealing rain pouring down in sheets, half-flooding the driveway. As she stared, lightning forked across the sky, instantly followed by a deafening clap of thunder. “What the—?!” It was fine while she was driving up. Sure, the day had been gray and overcast as they walked around the grounds, but nothing to indicate this was going to happen.

“I know it’s a long way back to the city from here,” Marcus said. “And this doesn’t look like it’s going to let up any time soon. If you want, I have plenty of spare bedrooms. You saw them all on our tour.” He chuckled good-naturedly.

“Um...” Stacy hesitated, then closed the front door. “Let me call my kids first. Let them know I won’t be home and that my, uh, roommates should look after them.” She really, really didn’t want to do this. Anything could happen to Mathew and Larkin while she was away—including things of the more...paranormal variety. But if she drove out on the winding, unfamiliar roads in this weather, she was just as likely to get in a wreck. This was probably safer. She pulled out her phone, already planning what to say, when her eyes flicked to the top of the screen to check her battery and signal. And she noticed something strange. “Oh, you don’t have Internet out here?”

“I do, it’s just been down for the past day or so,” Marcus said casually. “The company doesn’t want to drive all the way out here. It should be fixed by next week. Is this a problem?”

“No, it’s fine.” She still had cell signal to make calls. “I’ll...find a book to read or something.”

Marcus let her choose which bedroom to pick, and she chose a medium-sized one with a good lock—sure, she didn’t want to drive home in a storm, but she didn’t want to relax quite yet. Marcus seemed nice enough, but by now she knew appearances were deceiving. At least his red shirt wasn’t a red hoodie.

Thunder echoed across the sky as rain pounded against her window. The wind howled, and Stacy had a hard time falling asleep out of a baseless anxiety that the storm would blow down the house. But, eventually, her eyes slipped closed and she drifted off.

* * * * * * * * * *

The house had dark cobbled walls, broken by narrow iron windows. Its design was wide, no more than maybe two stories, looking almost like several short towers stuck together. Stacy walked up to the front entrance—marked by a couple low steps and grand banisters to either side—and knocked on the dark wooden door.

Wait.

Hadn’t she just done this?

She looked around. The sky overhead was filled with gray clouds. But there was no sign of a storm. She turned around and saw the front of her car, poking out from behind the brick wall and open iron gate. Everything was...the same.

“Come in!” A voice called from inside.

Stacy didn’t like this. She wanted to turn around and walk back to her car, pretending that the knock was just some salesman that decided to leave. But instead, she found herself opening the front door and stepping inside.

The inside was just as grand as the outside. The entrance hall had white walls, decorated with various items, including a large mirror. Its floor was tiled. There was a balcony overhead and to the left was a wide living room. This was...exactly the same. She’d definitely done this, hadn’t she? She’d been in this entrance hall before.

“Oh, hello.”

There was a man in the living room, standing up from one of the fancy sofas. “My name is Marcus, it’s lovely to meet you.” He walked over and held out his hand, flashing a smile.

Stacy reluctantly took his hand and shook it. “Hi. I’m, uh...Stacy.” She glanced around, then looked Marcus over. He had black hair and dark brown eyes, was taller than her by half a head, and wore a red long-sleeved shirt. She had seen him before. She had just seen him, right before going to bed. “Um...this might sound weird, but...have we met?”

Marcus looked confused. “No, I don’t think so. You don’t look familiar. Why?”

“I...I was...I think...” Stacy looked around again. She extracted her hand from the handshake and backed up. “I’m sorry, I think I have the wrong house.”

“You do?” Marcus’s face fell in disappointment. “Oh. I was wondering if you were here about the job openings.”

“N-no, I think—I think this is wrong.” Stacy backed up, then turned around and grabbed the handle of the front door. “I’m sorry, I’ll just go.” She stepped through the door.

And she walked into a room with stone walls, almost empty except for a long counter and a wall full of racked wine bottles. “And this is the wine cellar,” a voice said. Marcus stepped around her and gestured at the room. “I don’t really drink a lot of alcohol. Family condition. But I keep them for parties, so others can have a good time if they want.”

“Wait.” Stacy turned around. Behind her were stairs leading upwards. “I—what?”

“What is it?” Marcus asked gently.

“I just—we—I was—” Stacy put a hand against the wall. It was cool beneath her palm. Solid. “I’ve been here.”

“Oh, did I already show you the cellar?” Marcus chuckled and shook his head. “Sorry. I guess my memory failed me. We can look at the second floor now.”

“No, I—this is—” Stacy knocked on the wall. Still solid. It was really there.

“Ms. Allen, are you...are you alright?” Marcus asked slowly, looking at her with worry. “Do you need to sit down? It’s a big estate, I know, it’s fine if it’s too much walking.”

Stacy said nothing. She looked at him, mouth half-open as if waiting for words to form, but none came. Marcus continued to look at her, the worry glinting in his eyes. He seemed genuinely concerned. Did he...not know? Or was she just...losing it a bit?

No. No, she wasn’t losing it. She was past the point of thinking every weird thing she saw had a rational explanation. Something was going on here. But how could she get out of it? Walking through the front door didn’t work. Maybe she had to finish the tour first? “I’m...fine,” she said slowly. “Let’s go see the rest of the house.”

Marcus nodded slowly, and the two of them left, heading up to the second story. He said all the same things he’d said the first time, showing her all the same bedrooms, bathrooms, and spare rooms. Then they went down one of the many staircases in the house, and ended up in the entrance hall again. “Well, that’s the whole of it,” Marcus said. “What do you think?”

“Um, well...” Stacy shifted awkwardly. “Thank you very much, but I don’t know if this job is really for me after all.”

“Oh, really?” Marcus sighed. “That’s a shame. But if you change your mind, I don’t think I’ll be able to fill all these positions for a while.”

“Great. Great. I’ll keep that in mind.” Stacy walked towards the front door, as quickly as she could without being strange. “I’ll see you, then.”

“Are you sure you want to drive home in this weather?” Marcus asked.

Stacy opened the front door, revealing...the exact same storm. The exact same storm. The water puddling on the driveway was exactly as high as it had been. The same sheets of rain fell down in the same pattern. As she watched, the lightning that broke across the sky arced the way it had before, followed by an instant thunderclap that deafened her again.

“It will be fine,” she said. “I-I’ll be back if I can’t find anything else.” That was a blatant lie. She was never coming back here again.

“Well, alright,” Marcus said, confused. “We’ll see you around, then.”

“Yeah.” Stacy walked through the door.

* * * * * * * * * * 

The inside was just as grand as the outside. The entrance had white walls and a tiled floor. Decorations covered those walls, including a large mirror. There was a balcony overhead and to the left was a wide living room. 

“What the hell?!” she shouted.

“Oh, hello.”

There was a man in the living room, standing. “My name is Marcus, it’s lovely to meet you.” He walked over and held out his hand, a smile on his face.

“I’m—um—” Stacy backed away. “Sorry, wrong house!” She spun around, threw open the front door, and ran out.

* * * * * * * * * * 

The inside was just as grand as the outside. The entrance had white walls and a tiled floor. Decorations covered those walls, including a large mirror. There was a balcony overhead and to the left was a wide living room. 

Stacy took a deep breath. Okay. Maybe she couldn’t leave through the front door. That was fine. There were plenty of other exits; she’d seen them on the first tour.

“Oh, hello.”

A man was standing in the living room. “My name is Marcus, it’s lovely to meet you.” He walked over and held out his hand, a smile stretching his face.

“Hi,” Stacy said slowly, taking his hand for a shake and letting go as soon as she was able.

“And...what’s your name?” Marcus asked. “Are you here about the open positions?”

“Y-yeah.” Stacy nodded. “I’m...Stacy.”

“Ah. Alright, then. Would you like a tour, Ms. Allen?”

“Yeah.” She didn’t bother to ask how he knew her last name when she hadn’t told him. “Uh, show me around. Thank you.”

Stacy spent the next while following Marcus around the house, listening to him explain what each room was and what the history behind the various decorative pieces were. She was paying attention, but not because she found it particularly interesting. She had to see if the things he said were the same. And they seemed to be, for the most part. It was a bit harder to remember, since it had been a good few hours since she heard the first spiel. Or...had it been that long at all? Maybe this had never happened before, and time was restarting?

They were finished with the first floor. She waited for Marcus to take the tour outside. But instead, he turned around and started going down another hall. “Now, if you’ll follow me to the second floor,” he said.

“Wait.” Stacy stopped where she was. “Aren’t we going to go outside?”

Marcus looked back at her and frowned. “Well, I was planning on it, but I figured you didn’t want to explore the gardens with that storm.”

“Storm?!” Stacy turned around and ran back the way they came, until she stopped in front of a pair of glass doors. Outside, it was pouring rain. She looked up at the black sky and saw that same fork of lightning flash across the clouds, its branches identical to the past two times. The thunderclap that followed was the same, but it seemed even louder now. “When the actual hell?!”

“They start up quickly around here,” Marcus said, sighing. “You get used to it. Come on. We can see the grounds some other time.”

Stacy shook her head. “No. No, it’s fine.” She reached forward and grabbed the handle of the glass door, flinging it open. Before Marcus could say anything else, she walked right out.

“—and this is the spare guest bedroom.”

She was in a room with a large queen-sized bed, its sheets and blankets neatly made. The walls were papered in a green pattern of old flowers. Marcus walked around her, gesturing at how big the room was. “This wardrobe looks old, but it’s actually pretty new, only about ten years old. My parents got it to replace the last one that broke, commissioning it to look exactly the same.”

Stacy stayed rooted to the spot. She looked over her shoulder and saw the second floor hallway extending to the left and right.

“I’m sorry, I realize this is probably pretty boring,” Marcus said.

“No, no, it’s—uh, one moment.” Stacy walked into the room. Her eyes were fixed on the nearest window. She threw it open, sitting on the windowsill.

“What are you doing?!” Marcus shouted.

She swung her legs over the ledge and eyed the ground below. It was only two stories. She’d much rather deal with the injuries of a survivable fall than stay in here. And with that, she dropped out of the window.

* * * * * * * * * *

“Oh, hello.”

She was in the living room, and there was a man standing across from her. “My name is Marcus, it’s lovely to meet you.” He walked closer and held out his hand, a smile on his face showing his white teeth.

Stacy blinked. She didn’t take the hand. Instead, she looked around. They were in the living room next to the entrance hall...but she couldn’t see the entrance hall. Where there had previously been a wide, open entrance to the front entrance of the house, there was now a single doorway, connecting into...the kitchens. But...the kitchens entrance had been over there—no. Where that doorway had been, there was now a blank wall.

“Are you alright, Ms. Allen?” Marcus asked.

Stacy looked back at him. He was not wearing the same shirt. It was still red, but this one was a button-down, not the thick, almost sweater-looking one from before. “Do you know what’s going on here?” Her voice was harsh, urgent.

Marcus’s face scrunched in confusion. “What’s going on here?” he repeated.

“The whole—the repeating thing!” Stacy said. “This—i-it just—it deteriorated so quickly into this—this weird loop! What the fuck is going on?!”

Marcus took a step back. “Um, I’m sorry, Ms. Allen, but...are you okay?”

“No! I’m not okay! I’m—there was—how do I get out of this house?!”

“I don’t...through the doors?” Marcus shook his head. “Do you need me to call someone for you?”

“Call someone!” Of course! Stacy was still holding her purse, the same way she had when walking into the house for the first time. She opened it up and took out her phone—and was greeted by the small words ‘No Service’ on the top of the screen. “Wh-what?”

“Oh, we don’t have cell service out here,” Marcus said calmly. “Or Internet. The last storm knocked them both out, and the company hasn’t been back up to fix the towers yet. But you can use my landline.”

“Where is it?” Stacy demanded.

“Um...” Marcus stepped back again. He pointed towards the one other entrance into the room: a wide arch leading into a different sitting area. “Through there, down the hall. On the wall in the room at the end.”

Stacy didn’t say anything else, merely hurrying off in the direction he indicated. She opened the last door at the end of the hall and walked into a small closet. It was dark, full of cleaning supplies, and no phone to be seen. Just in case, she searched the shelves, frantically shoving aside mops and dust rags. Nothing. Forcing down her rising panic, she spun around and walked back into the hallway.

This...was not the hallway.

It was a hallway. It was a hallway in the house. But not the first floor hall she’d run down. It was a second floor hall, one lined with bedrooms and ending in a spiral staircase downward. She stared at it. Then reached out and grabbed the balcony of the staircase. Still as solid as ever.

“Okay,” she breathed. “Okay, Stacy. Think. This is—this is not normal. This has to be something... something supernatural. You’ve been in a supernatural place before. One that was kind of a maze. Kind of like this.” She laughed a bit. It was kind of funny that her life had gone in such a direction to trap her in two supernatural mazes. “There...has to be a trick to this. One exit has to work. Or...maybe you have to do something. Something specific. God. You can figure this out. You can do it.”

She took a moment to steady herself, breathing in, holding it, then breathing out. It was going to be fine. She’d survived worse before. At least nothing in this house was actively hunting her down. With that small reassurance, she headed down the staircase.

The staircase ended in a room with a fireplace. This was part of the house, and she was pretty sure it was supposed to be near this staircase, but it was different in how the stairs led directly into the room. But whatever. She shook that off, and began to look around. Searching for something, anything, that was unusual.

There was nothing in that room. So she headed to the next one and searched that. Again, there was nothing noteworthy. And the same could be said for the next room. And the next. And the next. Every room in this house was just...a room in a house. Nothing that interesting about them, aside from how expensive the furniture and decorations looked. And, obviously, the fact that their order was slightly out of place.

She kept looking, though. And the more she looked through the rooms, the more they got shuffled up. She could recognize most of them by now, but she couldn’t map out where they belonged. The mental image she’d been forming of the house on that first tour was slowly degrading, unraveling at the seams. When she stepped through a door, there was no guarantee that turning around and walking through it again would lead to the same hallway as before. But she kept looking.

Time was passing. She was sure of it, as outside she could see the sky getting darker and darker. But...night time was approaching faster than usual. Her phone still worked, and its clock was still keeping track of time just fine. She timed it out to be sure, counting “one Mississippi, two Mississippi...” and the minute changed the moment she counted sixty Mississippi. The phone was fine. It was the outside that wasn’t working. In just two hours, the sky through the windows darkened from noon to evening. Or...maybe it wasn’t. Maybe that was some sort of illusion on the windows. She had no way of knowing. Not all the windows opened, and she didn’t want to try the ones that did, just in case that somehow reset this loop and she lost...whatever progress she’d made. If she’d made any at all.

Stacy wasn’t sure how long she searched the rooms. But after a while, it wore on her. She sat down on the edge of a bed in one of the bedrooms, feeling the weariness in her muscles. She closed her eyes, just for a second.

* * * * * * * * * * 

“Oh, hello.”

She was in the living room, and there was a man standing in front of her. “My name is Marcus, it’s lovely to meet you.” He held out his hand, his mouth smiling.

Stacy blinked. She said nothing, and looked around again. The living room was the same in its furniture and coloring, but the walls were all different. There were doorways on each, all leading into an identical hallway. Four different ways to go, but...only one way to go, really.

“Are you alright?” Marcus asked.

She didn’t say anything, just turned and ran down one hall at random. It was a completely different one than last time, but one she recognized. There had to be something in here! Something that could get her out of this house! She flung open a door at random and began to search the room beyond. It was changing every time, maybe something was different. Maybe there was something she could use to—to—she wasn’t sure what she hoped to do. But maybe there was something!

The rooms were all the same. They weren’t connected in the same way, of course. But she recognized the rooms. She knew what was in them, and their contents hadn’t changed at all. Still, maybe there was something. So she kept looking. She walked through bedroom doors and ended up in the kitchen, went down a central staircase and found herself in a bedroom. Maybe there was something. Maybe there was something. Maybe there was...

“Hello.”

Stacy walked down a staircase and found herself in that living room again. The walls were lined with identical staircases, some heading up, some heading down. There was a man standing at the base of her staircase, waiting for her as she stepped off it. “My name is Marcus, it’s lovely to meet you.” He held out his hand, a grin on his face.

“Where are we?!” Stacy shouted.

Marcus looked confused. “What do you mean?”

“This!” She gestured at the room, at the dozen identical staircases branching off from it. “This isn’t normal!”

“This is my house,” Marcus said, completely baffled by her tone. “I know it’s a little different from most houses, but—”

“This is more than different! The only house that’s even remotely like this is the fucking Winchester House, and even that doesn’t move its weird architecture around!” Stacy barely restrained herself from grabbing Marcus’s shirt and pulling him down to her level. “Where the fuck are we?!”

“We’re in California,” Marcus said haltingly. “Ms. Allen, please calm down.”

“You know who I am!” Stacy shouted. “You know my name! Why do you keep introducing yourself to me?!”

Marcus backed away. “It—it’s going to be alright,” he said slowly. “I’ll just...I’m going to go get something. You stay here and...and take a moment to breathe.” And he turned and half-ran to one of the staircases, quickly descending.

Stacy wasn’t sure if she wanted to follow him or run as far away as possible. In the end, she turned around and went back up the staircase she came from, finding herself in...what looked like one of the bedrooms. But now there was a door on each wall. She glanced around, and pulled one open at random, heading through.

Searching the rooms wasn’t doing any good. It was just making her tired. Though she hadn’t felt sleepy yet. Or hungry. Or thirsty. Which was weird, because her phone said that she’d been in this house for almost ten hours.

Then her phone abruptly died.

“What?!” Stacy held down the power button to see if it would turn back on. She smacked the side of it, and almost banged it against one of the dressers before thinking better of it. She hadn’t run out of battery. There had been about 60% left, but her phone had died nonetheless, and now she just saw her reflection in the screen. No way to call for help. Not that there had been cell signal in this place for the past few hours. But still. There was an odd sense of finality in her stomach as she stared at her own reflected face.

She had to keep going. Maybe going through the rooms in detail hadn’t helped, but maybe she would eventually find something different. Maybe. Maybe.

Maybe.

The first time she saw a hallway that was unfamiliar, she really wasn’t surprised. It just seemed like the natural progression of things to open a bedroom door and find a long, strange hallway extending in front of her. She stepped through the doorway slowly and looked around. This hallway was wallpapered in a cream pattern, some sort of fancy fleur-de-lis on its surface. The floor was white marble tile. And at the distant end, she could see...the front entrance. It took her a moment to recognize it from this far away, but that was definitely the dark wooden door that she’d knocked on who-knows-how-long ago.

Stacy glanced behind her. The door she’d just come through was closed. They always closed behind her, even if she deliberately kept them open. She’d figured that out on her first run through of searching the rooms. Even propping them open with an item did nothing. They would close the second she blinked. When she looked forward again, she half-expected the front entrance to be gone. But it was still there. Still at the distant end of the hall.

Well, there was nowhere else to go. She started walking. Then she picked up the pace to a slow jog. Then a half-run. It was a long, long hallway she had to run down, and she wanted to be sure the front entrance wouldn’t disappear or something. But no matter how fast she went, the end of the hall was still distant.

She didn’t realize the other problem until she bumped her head while running. That made her slow down, and when she looked up, the ceiling was only a couple inches above her. She looked to the sides, and found that if she reached out with both hands, she could touch both walls of the hallway. Confused, she backed up, keeping her hands outstretched. The walls were the same distance away. The ceiling was the same distance away, even as she backed up to a point where she was sure it was higher.

Dread pooled in her stomach. She looked behind her, and found that the door she’d come through was still relatively close. She could turn around and head back into the house. But...the front entrance was in sight. It was there. She couldn’t just give up this opportunity.

So she began walking forward again.

A minute later, the front entrance was only a little closer, and the ceiling was brushing her hair. Two minutes later, she had to keep her head bent. Three minutes later, and she couldn’t stretch her arms all the way out anymore. But the entrance—the exit—was closer. It was definitely closer. She had to keep going.

The ceiling kept getting lower, and soon she was stooping. And then she was crouching. It was hard to move without her knees or elbows bumping against the walls, and the hallway kept closing in. But she could make out the details of the front entrance now, the patterns on the windows in the doors. She got on her hands and knees and crawled. And then the pressing ceiling forced her even lower, and she was pulling herself along the floor.

The front entrance loomed large, but she could see it. Through the small square that the hallway had become, she could see the base of the door. She pulled herself further and her shoulders and hips scraped against the walls. It was so close. If she could just...wriggle herself a bit farther...

And then she stopped.

There was no way she could go any farther. And yet, the end of this tunnel-like hallway was an arm’s reach away. The exit was there. She stopped, breathing heavily, the sound echoing in the small square she was trapped in. It was there.

Her arms were extended in front of her. Stacy raised a hand and reached, straining forward against the press of the walls. Her fingers whiffed through the air, and the very tip of her longest finger brushed against the wood of the door. Nothing happened. But maybe—maybe if she could just get a good hand on it...maybe...maybe...

She blinked.

“Hello.”

And here was the living room again. But...something was wrong. Beneath her feet, the floor felt tilted. She looked to where the floor joined the left wall, and saw it angle to the left. Then she looked to where the floor joined the right wall, and saw it angle in the exact same way. But...that was impossible. It couldn’t tilt in both directions, both towards her and away from her.

There was a man standing in front of her. “My name is Marcus, it’s lovely to see you.” He held out a hand, his lips parted and teeth bared. He was wearing a different red outfit. A red suit jacket and pants, with a white shirt and black bow tie.

The floor felt tilted. Stacy could feel the pull of gravity, but as she turned, trying to get her bearings, she couldn’t tell which way gravity was pulling her. Just that it was...pulling. It looked like the furniture was sliding across the floor, but each piece stayed exactly where it was, unmoving. The paintings on the wall—clusters of colors and shapes in the vague imitation of faces or landscapes—did not swing, but they seemed to tilt as well.

Stacy looked at Marcus. “You’re part of this, aren’t you?”

“What are you talking about?” Marcus asked, still showing his teeth.

“You have to be! I-I was wondering for a while if you were trapped in this loop too, but—but you have to be part of this. There’s no way you’re not! Not with the way you keep changing.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Oh, fuck off!” Stacy lunged forward, reaching out to grab him.

He was not that far away. He was standing barely three feet away, but as she reached, her hands stopped short of grabbing him. She staggered, then tried again, stepping forward. It felt like she was making progress. The floor wasn’t moving like a treadmill under her feet. But Marcus didn’t get any closer.

“I think you need to calm down,” he said. “I’ll see you later.” And he turned around and walked away, disappearing through an open door on the back wall.

“Get back here, you—!” Stacy broke into a run. But the ground sloped—or at least, it felt like it did, even though nothing in the room changed. She lost her balance and fell to the floor, briefly closing her eyes as she braced herself for the fall.

And when she looked up again, she was in a different room. Another parlor.

“Motherfucker,” she muttered, standing up. Well, now she had a goal, at least. She had to find Marcus—if that was really his name—and...somehow get him to let her out. She wasn’t sure how to do that part. But she would try.

The parlor she found herself in was familiar, but when she opened a door, it revealed an unfamiliar hallway. She definitely hadn’t seen this hall before. It wasn’t in the original house, nor was it that hall that closed in on her. But she still didn’t like it. Well, at least this one had other doors. Doors that led to...unfamiliar rooms.

And so she searched again, looking for any sign of Marcus. She didn’t know if she would be able to. As far as she could tell, Marcus only showed up occasionally, at the start of each deconstruction, when the house became even more strange. So, maybe she just had to wander until that happened. But she decided to look for him anyway. It gave her some sense of purpose, the illusion that she was doing something more than just walking around endlessly.

These rooms were new. She had never seen them before. And once she left one behind, she didn’t see it again. Some of them weren’t even one room. Not really. She found herself in a kitchen where the counters and appliances were interrupted by a bed and a couple dressers, the clean white walls occasionally covered in strips of pink wallpaper. And as she kept wandering, going down halls and stairs, through doors and rooms, this happened more and more. The floors were wood planks with tiles inserted into them. The ceilings had chandeliers and bare bulbs. The walls were a blend of paints and papers and occasionally bare concrete that all mashed together.

There were no windows to be seen. None that were functional, at least. Some of them were embedded in walls, with wood and plaster behind the glass. No sign of the outside. But occasionally, she heard thunder, which sounded distant and muffled, as if she were dozens of feet underground.

She was starting to get tired again, her feet starting to hurt from all this walking. Should she sit down? Would that cause another deconstruction? Did she want another one of those? Sure, it would probably lead her to Marcus, but things were already strange enough in this house as it was.

But soon, she did it anyway. She sat down on the nearest sofa without even thinking and closed her eyes.

“Hello.”

The living room again. This time, she couldn’t feel that tilting feeling, but...this was still wrong. The lines of the walls, ceiling, and floor didn’t join together right, their angles too small or too big, but it didn’t come together to form the shape they should. The furniture was proportioned the same way. She stared at a chair and tried to process how it was flat on the floor, when it should have fallen on its side, with one of its legs definitely longer than the rest. The floor that looked like it was sloping, but was level beneath her feet.

Marcus was standing in front of her. “My name is Marcus, it’s lovely to see you,” he said, his hand already out and his face split in a grin.

“What are you?” Stacy asked. “You’re—you can’t be human. Can you?”

“You’re right. I can’t be.”

“Well...what do you want?” Stacy wished that she’d brought her gun. But, well, that had seemed like a bad thing to bring to a job interview. God, how long ago had she driven up here? Were Mathew and Larkin okay? “You’ve trapped me in here. Good job. What do you want now that you’ve got me?”

Marcus’s hand curled up, and he pulled his arm back to his side. “Well, there’s really no delicate way to go about it. Do you really want to know what we want?”

“Yes, I—wait.” Stacy stared at him. Then her eyes darted around the room, even though it made her head swim. “What do you mean ‘we’?”

Marcus chuckled. “You mean, you haven’t picked up on it yet? You haven’t felt it?”

“Felt what?” Stacy fought to keep the fear from her voice, but the nerves crept in regardless.

“No, I want you to try. Go ahead.” His grin stretched. “Try to reach out. See if you can notice it.”

Stacy glared at him, but let out a little huff and did as he said. She breathed deeply, trying to center herself and see if she could pick up on anything unusual.

And, once she focused, she realized that something was off.

It felt like she was being watched.

She spun around, expecting to see some other creature creeping up behind her. But instead, there was just a wall. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. She looked around the room again. There was no one there except her and Marcus, but...but it felt like there was another person. Another presence. She closed her eyes, trying to narrow down where the feeling came from.

But she couldn’t narrow it down. The presence wasn’t in any one location. It was all around her.

Her eyes flew open in alarm, and Marcus laughed. “Circle takes the square, I see!” he said. “Yes. You’ve found us.”

“This...this whole place...” Stacy whispered. She started to back away, but it wouldn’t make any difference. “It’s—it’s aware.”

“Yes. We’re very aware.” Marcus’s grin stretched again, despite his expression not changing. “We are alive, Stacy Allen. And we need you. And others, of course, but you’re great. It’s not often that someone who’s already claimed wanders in here without protection.”

“I-I—wha—y—” Stacy’s eyes darted around. Now that she knew, the presence around her weighed down on her shoulders and chest. The angles were shifting, changing every time she looked at a corner, and yet the room was the same. Her breathing quickened. She could feel her heart in her neck. And then she turned and ran through a door that hadn’t been there when she first looked at the wall, Marcus’s laughter echoing behind her.

Now that she knew about it, she couldn’t ignore the presence. It was in every room: every kitchen, every parlor, every hallway. It surrounded her, a looming feeling of something that was alive. There were no eyes to see or words to hear, but she felt it nonetheless, pressing down on her no matter where she ran.

The rooms began to blur together. More and more of them merged, creating odd shapes where walls overlapped. The furniture was all different, but quickly blurred together. And as she explored more and more of this strange, living place, she found that the furniture changed every time she turned her back. Sure, there was a bed in this room. But when she glanced away and back, it changed—a wooden frame instead of metal, blue sheets instead of yellow. The ovens from the kitchen changed models, and the sinks were a different design and age every time she looked at one.

There were no more windows. And she couldn’t hear the thunder anymore. She thought once again of being underground. Far away from the outside.

...No, that wasn’t exactly right. She wasn’t underground. She was deep inside something, and the more she walked, the deeper she went. And the feeling of that presence never ceased. Her back crawled with the feeling of being watched. She was inside something, going deeper into something, just as it wanted her to do. And now, her thoughts turned to being swallowed by some enormous creature.

Panic sank into her heart, causing it to beat rapidly in her chest. She tore through the rooms, pulling cushions off ever-shifting sofas and chairs. She opened every drawer and flung away the clothes she found inside, their texture changing every time she picked them up. She even tried to turn on any appliances she ran across, or use any sink or toilet that sprouted from the walls. None of them worked. And she found nothing.

Her fists hammered the walls, trying to find some weak spot in the wood or plaster or concrete. But they were all solid, even the spots where one material met another. The doors would not stay open. She tried to hold one by the handle and stare at it, but she blinked against her will, and her fist closed on empty air. The floors and walls were not level. They tilted at odd angles, and yet all the furniture stayed in place. The ceiling rose and lowered every time she went somewhere new. Like something huge was breathing.

She didn’t know how long she ran, but eventually, she stopped, breathing heavily, tasting metal in her mouth. Tears blurred her vision, and she leaned against one tilted wall to try and compose herself. Her attempts failed. Sobs tore at her throat. After everything she’d survived, was she going to die in here? Only five people would notice her disappearance. And only two would really care. They would have to grow up without her, wondering what happened to their mother.

“M-Mat...Lark...” Stacy cried. “I-I’m sorry...I’m so, so sorry. I’m sorry, C—I-I’m sorry, I...” She closed her eyes and pressed her forehead against the oddly warm surface of the wall.

“Hello.”

That voice. Marcus. She didn’t open her eyes to look at him—it as the voice came from behind her.

“It’s so lovely to see you.”

All at once, an emotion rose in her throat, something which she couldn’t identify, but was hot and sharp and desperate. If she was going to die, it wouldn’t be in this fucking place. “Someone! Anyone! Help!” Her eyes flew open as she banged her fists against this wall. “Please! Anyone, help! Please! Is anyone here?!” She didn’t know who she was shouting at. Just that she wanted—needed something to come get her out of there. “P-please! Help! Heeeelp!”

Behind her, Marcus laughed. Stacy’s fists slowed, coming to rest against a wallpapered wall that was the same as any other wall in this place. She stared at the meaningless pattern for a few seconds as her breathing calmed. Then she gradually turned around to look at this...whatever it was.

“We expect people to reach that point a lot sooner,” Marcus said, smiling wide. “You’re a lot stronger than you look, Ms. Allen.”

“Shut...the fuck...up.” The words came out from behind clenched teeth. “You fucking—fucking—angler fish motherfucker.”

“Angler fish? Oh, you mean, like a lure?” Marcus shook its head. “I’m afraid you’re a bit off the mark there, Ms. Allen. I’m not part of it the way a light is part of an angler fish. But we share a...relationship. Something symbiotic. We wish for the same thing.”

“My death.”

“Not in the traditional sense. But you will no longer exist. It’s not so bad, to sleep in a cradle of nothingness. You may find it much better than your current state...of...” And then Marcus’s expression shifted into something Stacy hadn’t seen before: confusion. Genuine confusion, not whatever act it was putting on before. For a second, Stacy wondered what was so confusing about her. And then she realized it wasn’t looking at her, but instead, at something just over her shoulder.

There was something resting on her back.

Stacy stiffened. The something crept up, around her shoulder blade and onto her right shoulder. She glanced at it without turning her head, and saw something gray and shaped like a hand.

“What?” Marcus’s voice was low. “How? That—that should be impossible.”

She couldn’t take it anymore. Stacy spun around to look behind her. And she caught a glimpse of something that she hadn’t seen in almost a year, but that she would never forget. It disappeared a second after her eyes landed on it, and revealed...a hallway. A straight, narrow corridor with wood-panel walls that had not been behind her before.

“Stacy,” Marcus said, his voice a growl of a threat. “Don’t you—”

But she was already gone, running down this new hallway. Behind her, she heard Marcus scream, a sound that was vaguely human but slightly off. Something heavy hit the ground. She didn’t turn to look.

Doors appeared on the walls of the hallway, each one flinging open before her as the corridor started to turn and shift. She dodged them seconds before she would run into their open surfaces. Another heavy thing hit the ground behind her, and the floor started to shift with the sound of wood groaning. The doors disappeared, and instead, more hallways started to branch off the main one, each as twisting as the last.

There was a whisper in her ear: “blue walls on the left. take it.”

And then she turned a corner and found herself at an intersection of four hallways, each one different. The one on the left had its walls covered in blue wallpaper. Stacy hesitated, then took it.

The new hall was straight for a few moments, but then came the shifting sound of a house creaking. And the floor started to slope. Gradually, but increasing until she was practically running uphill. And it kept getting steeper. She couldn’t keep her balance. The whisper came again, “grab the right-hand wall.”

Stacy kept running until she slipped, and then she flung herself to the right, hands slamming against the plaster—and grabbing onto an edge. She glanced to the side and noticed another hallway branching off of this one, with pale yellow-painted walls. Her grip tightened, and she pulled herself against the continuous tilting of the floor and into the yellow hallway.

The hall was sideways. She was standing on the right wall, with wooden floor to her left and plastered ceiling to her right. But the hall wasn’t moving, so she ran. Around her, the groaning of wood and metal and plaster echoed, growing louder and louder until it was almost deafening.

The walls and ceiling began to crack, spewing paint flakes and plaster dust. The floorboards pushed out, and she edged closer to the ceiling to avoid them hitting her. She could feel the wall beneath her feet growing weaker, her footsteps echoing against a hollow space behind it. The plaster creaked. But the groaning and shattering of the house wasn’t enough to block out the following whisper, “you can push through the ceiling here. turn now.”

Stacy hesitated, then turned and shoved herself against the plaster ceiling to her right. It broke easily, covering her in gritty white dust, and as she passed through she found herself in another hallway. This one had white walls, with the slightest brown tint, and at the far end...was a dark wooden door.

“run.”

She broke into a sprint. Behind her, she heard the sounds of disaster: breaking, cracking, shattering. She pushed herself harder. The hallway did not shrink. The door did not elude her, growing closer—closer—closer—

Her hand grabbed the doorknob, twisted it, and she barreled out into an overcast afternoon. She staggered, nearly falling down the few steps that led up to the house’s front door, then recovered and bolted. She didn’t stop until she was beyond the low brick wall and the iron gate. The moment she crossed over that threshold, she stopped, panting, and turned to look behind her.

The house looked the same as it had when she’d first seen it. But she could still feel that presence, like the house was watching her. Perhaps it was. Perhaps it was angry. She didn’t stop to think about it, instead turning back around. Her car was parked on the edge of the driveway. Or, well, technically it wasn’t hers. It belonged to Mark and Amy. But she didn’t care. It was her way out.

Stacy looked down at herself. Somehow, she looked exactly the same as she had when she walked into that house. She wasn’t covered in that fine white dust, and she still had her purse. And inside the purse were the car keys. She dug them out and unlocked the car, ducking into the driver’s seat and closing it behind her.

The radio came on when she started the car. Some boring talk show, but she almost cried when she heard the hosts’ voices. She checked her phone, and found it wouldn’t turn on. Still out of battery. That was fine, she could drive back. She could go back.

She let out a sigh of relief, resting her head against the headrest and closing her eyes.

Finally.

...

There was something on her shoulder.

Her eyes flew open. Instinctively, she looked up at the car’s rear view mirror to see what was going on behind her. She saw her face. Her eyes were pure white, with black liquid flowing down her cheeks. 

And then she saw the hand on her shoulder. 

And then she saw its face.

Stacy screamed, sitting up straight and whirling around to look into the back seat. There was nothing there. But then...she looked back at the mirror. There was a handprint of thick gray dust on her right shoulder. And there were streams of black liquid coming from her eyes, though her eyes were their normal brown.

She reached up and wiped at her face, and her fingers came away covered in black liquid. She expected it to be viscous and foul-smelling, but it was the consistency of water, and smelled like nothing. She brushed at her shoulder, and some dust flew into the air, while more was smeared into the fabric of her shirt.

There was nothing in the mirror. No face but her own.

She wanted to get out of the car and run, but she had no other means of getting the hell away from this freaky house. The bus didn’t run all the way out here; she’d checked. So, she put the car in drive and headed out, constantly glancing at the mirror.

* * * * * * * * * * 

The clock on the car dashboard read 5:13 pm when she headed home. Stacy arrived back at Mark and Amy’s house at 6:09 pm. The time didn’t match up. She had definitely been in that house longer than just a few hours. But at this point, the difference didn’t phase her. Of course this supernatural entity would mess with time. Of course it would.

She slammed the car door behind her as she got out and half-ran up to the front door. It wasn’t locked, so she flung it open and hurried inside.

“Mom?” Mathew was in the living room, playing games on one of Mark’s consoles. He paused it and stood up. “Are...you okay?” he asked slowly.

“I-I-I’m...” Stacy breathed deeply, trying to compose herself. She probably looked like a mess. “I’m...fine. Now.”

“Did it, uh...not go well?” Mathew asked.

Stacy laughed. “No. No, it didn’t. But it’s okay now. I think I got out of it.”

Mathew looked confused. “Out of what?”

“Mom?” Larkin’s voice echoed down the hallway. “Are you home?”

“Yes, sweetie, I’m home.” Stacy stepped further into the house, looking around. “Are Mark and Amy here?”

“Yeah, I think they’re busy doing stuff,” Mathew said.

“Great.” Stacy sighed. “I’m going to have to ask Amy what website she got that job listing from. Maybe I can report it. Prevent anyone else from going up there.” 

“Did...uh...” Mathew paused, trying to find the words. “Did something weird happen? Like...you know, weird weird.”

Before Stacy could answer, Larkin appeared in the hallway entrance, followed shortly by one of the dogs. The golden retriever seemed happy enough, tail wagging up a storm, but the moment the dog saw Stacy, that tail stopped. A low growl rumbled through the air. And Larkin stopped, staring at Stacy with a horrified expression. “Mom, what’s wrong with your eyes?!”

“My eyes?!” Stacy instinctively touched her face, fingers resting on her eyelid. But of course, she didn’t feel anything wrong. “I don’t—hang on a second.” She started to go to the bathroom, intending to look into the mirror, but that would mean going past Larkin and the dog to get into the hallway, and the dog only growled louder when she approached. So she stopped. “What’s wrong with my eyes? Lark? Mat?”

Mathew shook his head. “I-I don’t see anything.”

“Your pupils are gone!” Larkin insisted. “And there’s—there’s black stuff under them!”

Stacy felt her heart stop. It was just like she’d seen in the car’s rear view mirror. “Lark, I-I think this is one of those things that only you can see,” she said slowly.

“So something weird did happen,” Mathew said, nodding once decisively.

“Yes,” Stacy said. “That house I went to. It was...it wasn’t an actual—”

Then Larkin screamed and pointed behind her. The dog started to bark. Stacy spun around, barely catching a glimpse of something shaped like a human before it disappeared. “It’s the ghost!” Larkin shouted. “The ghost from the house!”

She was afraid of that. But having her suspicions confirmed did nothing to alleviate the slowly dawning dread and fear.

“What?! I-I didn’t see it!” Mathew’s head darted around.

“It was here!” Larkin insisted.

“Well, I know that! But why?!” Mathew looked at Stacy. “Isn’t it—isn’t it supposed to be stuck in that house? Isn’t that why we left? A-and why everything else has been trying to get to us for it?”

“Yes, that’s exactly why,” Stacy said, her voice distant. “I don’t know what changed.”

But she had a suspicion. She remembered, again, the last time she’d seen John. That encounter with the glitchy, spasming thing that shifted its appearances between all of them. She remembered his pleading with it to leave them alone in exchange for doing whatever it wanted to him, and how it had accepted the offer.

She hadn’t made an offer. But she had called for help, called for anyone to come help her in that strange house. And something did come help her. Maybe...that help came with a price. What had Marcus said? What had it said once it dropped the facade? “It’s not often that someone who’s already claimed wanders in here without protection.”

These pieces were forming together to create a terrifying image in her mind, something that made her sick to think about.

“Is everything alright in here?” That question came from Mark, entering the living room from the hallway. “Hey, calm down, girl.” He bent over and started petting his dog, trying to get her to relax.

Behind him, Amy showed up as well. “Who screamed?”

“Amy!” Stacy shouted urgently. “Where did you find that job listing?!”

“That what?” Amy asked, blinking in surprise.

“The one you gave me! That I went to today. Where’d you find it? What website?”

“I...don’t know what you mean,” Amy said slowly. “I don’t think I gave you any job listing.”

“Yes you did!” Stacy insisted. “On Monday, you gave me the listing for this job. You said you printed it off online. Where?”

Amy shook her head, baffled. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what you mean. I’ve never given you any job listings. Not from online, at least.”

“Why would you print it out?” Mark asked, confused.

“I didn’t!” Amy insisted. “Stacy. I know you were going to an interview today, but...I thought you found that yourself.”

“What?! No!” Stacy shook her head. “You definitely gave it to me! Monday, like I said. I was putting away the groceries, like I said, and you walked into the kitchen and asked me if I’d found a job yet. I said no, and you handed me the listing. I remember it clearly! Your hair was in a ponytail, a-and you were wearing a red jacket—” Then she stopped.

A red jacket.

A red jacket with the hood pulled up.

“I don’t...own any red jackets,” Amy said slowly. “Stacy, are you okay? You’re really pale all of a sudden.”

Had “Amy” ever looked her in the eyes that day? Had “she” ever given any details to indicate it was actually Amy speaking? Or...had that just been Stacy’s mind filling in the blanks? After all, if she was approached by something with long dark hair, while living in a house with someone who had long dark hair...wouldn’t she make assumptions?

Mathew reached the same conclusion shortly after Stacy. He gasped and looked around again, as if this mystery intruder was still inside the house. Larkin was a bit more confused. “What does Mom’s job have to do with what happened to her eyes?” he asked.

“That’s a very good question,” Mark said, still petting his dog to try and calm her. “It probably wasn’t all that it seemed, but still, wondering what can do that to your eyes.”

Stacy stiffened. Slowly, she turned to look at him. “Mark,” she said in a low voice. “How can you tell what happened to my eyes?”

Mark stopped petting the dog. For just a second, and then he started again. “Well I mean, I just guessed that something happened. Did they make you put on makeup?” He chuckled. Silently, Amy reached over and touched his shoulder. He glanced at her, and the two of them exchanged looks, having a whole silent conversation.

“I can’t see what’s going on with Mom’s eyes,” Mathew said, glaring at Mark. “Only Larkin can, and he’s special. How come you can?”

“Where did you say this job was, again?” Amy asked quickly.

“Somewhere out of town,” Stacy said, taking a cautious step backwards. “This big house—more like a mansion, really. Owned by this...this ‘guy’ who called himself Marcus—”

“Fuck,” Mark whispered. He stood up straight, and he and Amy exchanged more looks.

“You guys...” Stacy paused. “What do you know?”

And again, Mark and Amy looked at each other. As they did, Stacy felt...something. She could almost hear that whisper again, muttering something she couldn’t quite make out. If she had to guess what it said, it would be...“we are together now.”

“I think we should all sit down,” Mark said. “We need to have a talk.”

[crystalninjaphoenix]

An Incident in Nowhere

A Horror Septics Short

(Yaaaay, plot! Let’s stop by a place in the Middle Of Nowhere, USA. All sorts of weird shit already happens there, why not some horror septics? Oh yeah, warning for stabbing in this part. Be careful, but enjoy!)

The small collection of buildings off the freeway wasn’t enough to be called a town. At most, it was a gas station, a bus stop, and a couple fast food restaurants. Lily worked the night shift at one of these restaurants, driving out from the town where she lived, which was also in the middle of nowhere but not as small. She’d been doing this for years, and had seen all sorts of visitors coming from the endless highway. By now, she had a good sense for when someone was dangerous, and when they were just strange.

But that sense was struggling when faced with this man. He walked into the restaurant at the start of her shift. The sun was setting, turning the sky orange. He walked in, and looked around with anxious eyes, as if this was the last place he wanted to be. Perhaps he wasn’t fond of the buzzing fluorescent lights, or the colorful plastic furniture. Lily couldn’t think of any other reason. There were no other customers inside to put him on edge.

She gave him a quick look over as he slunk closer to the counter. Unkempt gray-streaked brown hair and growing-out beard. Old green jacket over layers of shirts. She recognized his type, but she knew better than to judge. Admittedly, the eyepatch was a little strange, as were the bandages around his neck. Maybe he got into a fight recently. She hoped there wouldn’t be a problem. “Hi, may I take your order?” she said cheerfully.

The stranger didn’t answer. And not because he was looking at the menu. His one visible eye was staring blankly ahead.

“Sir, can I take your order?” she repeated.

The stranger blinked. He mumbled something.

“Excuse me?”

“Do you have...coffee?” the stranger asked quietly.

“Yes, sir, we do. Anything else?”

“Food.”

“Yes. What would you like?”

“I don’t care.”

Lily paused for a moment. She scanned the man’s face. His skin was a normal color, his eyes were vacant but not bloodshot, there were no signs of chills or sweats. So it wasn’t drugs. But it could have been something else. “How about I get you a burger, sir?”

The stranger nodded. He reached into his pocket and pulled out some loose dollars, dropping them on the counter. They were dirty and wrinkled. Lily didn’t bother to count them, putting them straight into the register. Before she could tell the stranger that his order would be ready soon, he walked away, heading to an empty corner booth by a window and sitting down.

Well, she’d keep an eye on him. Sighing, she turned around to head back into the kitchen. But she found her way blocked by her coworker, Daniel. “Are you okay?” he asked.

Lily smiled. Daniel was younger than her and new on the night shift, but he was constantly trying to protect her from any perceived threats. It was kind of cute, actually. “I’m fine, Daniel, thank you.”

“Alright. If you’d rather have me deal with the crazy homeless guy, let me know.”

“Don’t be rude, Daniel,” Lily scolded.

“I’m not. Did you notice the dried blood on his face?”

Lily didn’t want to say anything about it, but yes, she had. Mostly clinging to his beard, where it would have been harder to wipe away. “Still, it’s the principle,” she said, walking around Daniel to the kitchen.

A few moments later, she delivered the coffee and hamburger to the stranger’s table. Normally the policy was to give the table a number and call it out, so that the customer came up to get the food, but...she didn’t think the stranger would do that. “Here you go, sir,” she said, putting the tray in front of him. He didn’t say anything in response. Instead, he stared out the window with his single wide eye, iris darting around erratically. As if he was searching for something. She didn’t say anything more, walking away.

The orange in the sky faded to the blue of dusk. Lily spent some time cleaning up the kitchen, which the last shift had made a mess of, while Daniel manned the front counter. Sort of. She knew he was watching YouTube videos on his phone, but she didn’t mind. As long as he put it away when a customer walked in.

Lily had just returned to the front counter when the restaurant’s door opened again. In walked a man with dark hair, pulled to the side in a ponytail. He wore an old, but well-taken-care-of jacket and ripped jeans, and carried a backpack with various patches. Immediately, Lily knew this man must travel across the country a lot. Probably for fun, if she had to guess.

She was about to roll out the usual spiel when Daniel said, “Hi, can I take your order?” Huh. Surprising, Daniel didn’t usually volunteer to take orders unless he had to.

“Yeah, can I get a number two?” the man said.

“Of course. What drink would you like with that?”

“Just a coke, please.”

“Right away. Please take a number and sit down, we’ll call out when your order is ready.”

The man smiled charmingly. “Thank you,” he said, setting some bills down on the counter. “Keep the change. You deserve a good tip, working in a place like this.”

Daniel nodded. “Yeah, it can be hard. Luckily it’s the night shift, so the place is pretty empty. There’s only one other guy here.”

“I saw. But I bet you get all sorts of weird people out in the middle of nowhere like this.”

“We do! One time, this guy—”

“Daniel?” Lily interrupted. “Are you going to let the customer take his seat?”

Daniel gave her a bit of a sour look, but the man just laughed. “No, really, it’s interesting. But I’ll sit down now.” He backed away, pulling the edge of his jacket’s hood as if to make sure it was secure on his head, then spun around.

“I thought you didn’t like small talk,” Lily said to Daniel quietly.

“Usually, yeah, but they’re cool,” Daniel said defensively.

“Hmm. He does seem like a nice man. Even so, didn’t your parents ever tell you to be careful around strange adults?”

“What? They were like my age, that’s different.”

“Your age?” Lily frowned. If she had to guess, the man was closer to her age, which was a good decade older than Daniel. But maybe she misjudged him. “Well, still.” She looked up. “Huh. Looks like this ‘cool guy’ is sitting with the ‘crazy homeless guy’ you were rude about earlier.”

Daniel glanced over. “Well, they’re probably being nice. Whatever. I’m gonna get their drink.”

“Right, I’ll get the rest.”

As Lily walked back into the kitchen, she glanced over her shoulder at the booth where the two customers were sitting. She wondered what they were talking about...

* * * * * * * * * *

“Hello, ĴťĿ¦Ŵ.”

He’d been staring intently out the window for the past while, watching the parking lot outside the restaurant’s front entrance. Waiting for something to happen. So when the voice came from the seat across him, he jumped, spinning around. “How’d you get here?!” he blurted. “I would’ve seen you come in.”

“You don’t need to go through the front entrance to get inside a building,” the thing across from him said cryptically. “Anyway. How are things working out for you?”

His hands, resting on the greasy plastic table, were shaking. He glanced over at the two workers behind the counter. They were talking with each other, totally unconcerned about this situation. Of course they were. He wondered what they’d seen when the thing in the red hood walked into the restaurant. Because it definitely wasn’t what he was seeing. The thing looked so close to human, but everything about the proportions was slightly off. A bit too thin. A bit too jagged. And of course, he couldn’t make out the face. “Why do you care?” he asked carefully.

“Because something’s different about you,” it replied. “You saw it again, didn’t you?”

He didn’t say anything. His head turned back to the window. But instead of looking through the glass, his gaze caught on his reflection. It was warped. Even though the window was smooth, undistorted glass.

“You saw it again,” it repeated. “And you walked away.”

“I don’t know why,” he suddenly said, head snapping back to stare at the thing across from him. “I might’ve got out of there fast enough, but...I don’t know why it didn’t do anything when it was right there.” He shuddered as he recalled how his arms had been wrapped around its body, feeling its spasming limbs, smelling the distinct scent of electronics running for too long. “Maybe it just wants to chase me again,” he whispered, looking down at his hands on the table.

“Maybe,” said the thing in the red hood. “But something’s different about you. Did it say anything?”

He started to shake his head, but didn’t. “The only thing it said...” His voice is slow, as the words don’t want to come. “...was...‘offer accepted.’”

The thing didn’t need to breathe, but he could have sworn he heard a sharp inhale. “What did you offer?”

“I didn’t—!”

“Don’t lie.”

His protests died in his throat. “It...wasn’t going after me,” he said quietly. “It was going after the kids. It was just a coincidence that I was there. And I thought—I thought that—maybe i-it would be more interested in ‘the one that got away’ than someone new, so I—I said it could do whatever it wanted to me, as long as it didn’t hurt them.”

Silence. The thing in the red hood folded its fingers together, resting its chin on its clasped hands. “Whatever it wanted?” it repeated.

He nodded. His hands curled, and he took them off the table, resting them in his lap. He glanced out the window again.

“Ah.” It smiled. “I understand now.”

“Understand what?” he asked, not really curious.

“What it wants from you,” it said. “We all assumed that it hated you. After all, you are the only one who’s ever escaped it. We thought it wanted you back.”

“You mean...it doesn’t?” Chills crawled across his skin.

“It does. Just for a different reason.” The smile fell. “It’s fascinated with you. I believe your claim has shifted from a nameless one, to something more specific. That’s what’s different about you.”

None of this was reassuring. If anything, he felt even more sick with fear than he already was. Before, it was a simple dread of a known fate. Now? He had to face the unknown. “I don’t suppose you’ll tell me what this claim is?” he said weakly.

Instead of answering, it changed the subject. “You know, we really should stay out of this, ĵĿ½ÝªŚ.”

“Yeah, I figured that out when the doctor thing kicked me out of its city,” he muttered, rolling his eyes. “Twice.”

“But.” The thing flashed another smile. Its teeth looked...wrong. “I won’t lie, I really want to see it get its due. Call it karma, if you want.”

He stopped, staring at the thing in the red hood. “I thought you were all scared of it,” he said slowly. “And that’s why you had to stay away.”

“You’re not wrong,” it admitted. “It’s...unusual that something like Ĕ·ıŒĉ is so powerful, but so young. And that it’s able to stand with the rest of us is...disconcerting. Notarzt put a lot on the line to sew up your eye. And I can tell you’ve undone all its hard work. Did you try to take it out again?”

He pressed a hand to his eyepatch, feeling movement behind the cloth. “I wasn’t thinking straight,” he mumbled. “I just...panicked.”

“Panic is your enemy.”

Laughter bubbled from his mouth. “No, my enemy is a whole lot fucking scarier.”

It laughed as well, a low chuckle. “That’s fair, I suppose.”

“So. What are you proposing?” he asked. “With the whole ‘karma’ thing.”

Suddenly, it stood up. “You’ll see. Maybe nothing will come of it. We’ll have to talk. All of us. I’ll be back.”

And before he could say anything else, the thing in the red hood turned and walked away, vanishing from the restaurant. Much to the confusion of the two workers, who called out a number with an order only a minute later, and hadn’t seen it leave.

He turned his attention to the window. Nobody walked out of the restaurant.

* * * * * * * * * *

He sat there for a while more, long enough for his food to grow cold before he’d even half-finished it. If he had to be honest, he didn’t want to eat. But he knew he had to. He didn’t want to die of hunger, and he knew it would be harder and harder to get good food as he...wandered through this country. As he’d been doing for the past week. Because...what else could he do? There was nowhere to keep him safe.

After he’d finished the burger and coffee—fast food definitely didn’t taste good late at night, but again, he had to eat—he continued to sit at the booth and stare out the window. He watched as the lights in the parking lot turned on, shining white light down on the asphalt in spots. The sky above darkened, losing all traces of blue in favor of black, with the faint specks of stars. 

He didn’t move until one of the workers—the woman, who was probably around his age—came over. “Um, I’m sorry, but...you can’t stay here,” she said slowly. “It’s company policy, and the owner looks through all the security footage.”

Security cameras. His shoulders immediately tense, raising defensively.

“Do you need anything?” the woman asked. “Money for the bus? They run late at night, but it’s a couple hours between stops.”

“I got it,” he muttered, reaching into his pocket. Then his eyes widened. He’d spent all the money he’d found on food here.

The woman sighed, probably realizing what happened. “Here.” She took her wallet out of her pocket, shuffling through it until she pulled out a few bills. “It’s not much, but I do carry cash.”

He took the offered money, looking through it. Ten, five, five, five, and six ones. Thirty-one dollars. That would get him far, if he was careful. “Thank you,” he said, letting out a breath of relief.

“No problem.” The woman smiled. “The bus should be arriving soon. It’ll head over to the next nearest town, not sure where it goes beyond that. Good luck.”

He nodded, standing up. Quickly, he headed out of the restaurant.

The bus stop was a small building, on the edge of this cluster of buildings. The door to the building was locked, so he settled for sitting on the bench. It was a good thing it was a warm summer night. He was quite comfortable out here. He might have been tempted to take a nap, but he knew better than that.

After a while, he heard something. Footsteps. Immediately he shot to his feet and spun around.

“Whoa!” It wasn’t what he thought it was. Instead, it was just the other worker from the fast food place. The young man. “Jeez,” he breathed. “You’re really jumpy, aren’t you?”

He didn’t say anything. Only stared at the young man.

“Well...look.” The young man brushed down his shirt—clearly the uniform of the restaurant. “I don’t know what your deal is, but you better stay away from Lily. I know she’s nice, but that doesn’t mean you can—you can take advantage of her.”

“I don’t want trouble,” he mumbled. “I’m leaving now.”

“Uh...yeah! You better leave!” This young man was not all that intimidating. He had a roundish face and was a head shorter than him. Clearly, he was just trying to assert himself. Show off how tough he was. “Because...because I’ll show you something.” The young man reached into his jeans and pulled out a small pocket knife. He flipped it open. “Yeah. So—so be careful!”

A pocket knife.

His eyes locked onto it, held in the young man’s hand. It was pretty small. The blade was barely longer than an index finger, shorter than a butterknife’s blade. But the steel glinted in the light from the overhead lamp, turning white and silver. There was a faint noise in his head. Was it the rushing of blood?

“Uh...” The young man looked down, following his gaze to the knife. “Yeah, I carry this. So better watch out! I know how to use it, too!” He slashed it through the air. “Don’t mess with anyone while I’m here!”

It was harmless posturing. He knew this. But his eyes continued to follow the blade. His fingers twitched, and the sound grew louder. It was not blood. Or, it was not just blood. There was a humming sound as well. Faint, but growing stronger. An electronic whine.

The young man took a step backwards, trying to hide his uneasiness. “So...you better...remember that,” he said slowly. “I’ll let you go for now. But if—”

He lunged forward.

The young man cried out. He would’ve done the same, but his voice wouldn’t respond. His fingers wrapped around the pocket knife’s blade as he and the young man fell to the ground. “I’m sorry!” The young man shouted. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it! Take whatever you want!”

His hand wrenched the pocket knife from the young man’s grip, blood dripping down his fingers where the blade cut his fingers. The whine in his head was growing, it was deafening, leaving no room for anything to pass through. It traveled down his spine and through his nerves. His vision faded in and out, and without thinking, his other hand reached up and pulled away the eyepatch.

A scream. The young man was screaming in terror, but the tone soon shifted into more than just fear. He heard it change the moment the blade sunk into his flesh, piercing it more than slicing it. And then again. And again. Red splattered across the concrete. The electric whine in his head was all-consuming. More screaming. He didn’t know who it was coming from.

Then there was movement. His head twitched to the side, seeing a bus pulling up to the station. A bus? A bus! A single thought managed to pierce the whine, a simple need. He shot to his feet and ran for the bus, climbing in the moment the doors opened. The bus driver looked at him, about to shout something, but stopped when she saw his face, eyes widening in fear. He stared at her, breathing heavily, then ran to the back of the bus, collapsing on a seat by a window.

A moment passed. Outside, he saw the woman from the fast food restaurant walking across the parking lot. He saw the young man lying on the pavement by the bus station, moving slightly. And then the bus began pulling away. Why it was doing that, he wasn’t sure. Shouldn’t it be stopping him from getting out of here? But...it was moving. There was no denying that.

He kept staring out the window. As the bus left the small cluster of buildings behind, it also left behind the white light of the lamps. The sky was pitch black. His reflection stood out starkly in the window. He stared at it. He stared at his eyes.

The left was blue.

The right was black, its sclera green. It bulged slightly from his socket. Warm blood dripped from it, trickling down his face.

He put the eyepatch back on.

[crystalninjaphoenix]

Uh oh, I'm very worried for Stacy in the horror au ":) The whole eye thing and "presence" behind her can't be good at all.

Worry aside though, boy this was a disorienting chapter! The way that you presented the loop and shifting of the house was so good! You can help but feel more and more frustrated alongside Stacy the longer it goes on. And the whole thing with Marcus, aaahgh! The way that his smile got bigger and more cruel as it went on is a very neat touch, creepy but neat nonetheless. I'm really glad that Stacy succeeded in escaping him, although I don't think anyone else that'll answer that job proposal will have as much "luck" -A

Oh yeah, no, the worry is justified. But it may be a while before we really see what's up with Stacy. I can only write horror septics stories every so often because of how long they are :( But hopefully that length makes up for how infrequent they are ^-^

Anyway, thank you! I put a lot of effort into making things disorienting and confusing. You can't get that sort of horror with the main septics, so I lunged for the opportunity. In case anyone didn't notice, "Marcus" and the mansion were all one big Who Killed Markiplier reference XD Because I like to imagine that Mark's characters always exist in the same worlds as Sean's characters, just on the other side of the world. If anyone has questions I'd love to talk more about my ideas on them :)

Glad you enjoyed the story, A!