#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.

[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]

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]

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]

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]

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]

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!

[crystalninjaphoenix]

I love how your post about the fears+boys goes from knowing exactly which one fits to "idk man, it's all over the place" ^o^ (To be fair, I also wouldn't know what to assign to Cait and [Redacted], ah ah)

But also, the Buried definitely fits Misery too! Most stuff about it focus on its more literal aspect but it does also manifest in general feelings of helplessness and being trapped in a situation you can't ever seem to escape/get out of :] And also, I hope I'm not misremembering but, isn't Misery trapped too in a way?

Yayyy glad I'm justified in not knowing what to do with those two XD

And yeah, that's what I was thinking when I assigned the Buried to Misery! The metaphorical sense of being crushed/trapped. And no, you're not misremembering. Misery can only manifest inside houses. They don't have to be suburban family houses, just anywhere that someone lives and calls home. So, yeah, in a sense, Misery is trapped, because it can't go outside the bounds of a "house." Well...with one exception, but we'll see that in the story coming up this week :3

[crystalninjaphoenix]

Now that you've listened to tma and grown familiar with the fears, which ones do you think would fit best for your horror boys? :)c

Dude. Anon.

I've literally been waiting for someone to ask me this djfkhlajd

Okay so this is gonna be long. Going in order of how easy it is for me to sort them:

Ragdoll is literally the Web. I mean...being controlled by something...strings everywhere..."Mother of Puppets"... Come on. Come on. Ironically, one of the first time I heard about TMA was someone telling me Ragdoll reminded them of the Web XD

Sangria is major Stranger vibes. It's all ABOUT the uncanny valley and not knowing that something is concealed beneath a friendly surface. Something that looks human, but is decidedly not. Definitely an aspect of the Stranger.

Notarzt is a weird combination of the Flesh and the Hunt. The former just because of the focus on pain and body horror, which is pretty obvious from the start. But also a big part of Notarzt is being chased by something, and that's what the Hunt is. You could argue that there's some of the Spiral in there, too, because of the maze-like pocket dimension, but I think if we're going to try and capture the essence of the horrors and the fears, then it's Flesh and Hunt.

Misery is probably the Lonely. It preys on people who don't have much of a support system and is constantly talking about how lonely it is. But the more I think about it, the more it doesn't exactly fit. Because there's a certain darkness to Misery—and I don't mean like the Dark. I mean like drowning in dark thoughts. There could be some of the Buried in there? Because of the idea of being crushed by something, even if it's a metaphorical crushing with Misery. Also, for some reason, I have the End vibes with Misery. Probably because of how its encounters usually end in death.

Cait Coill is...frick, man, I don't know. I don't think there's a specific fear that represents the sort of "deal with the devil" vibe that it has. There might be some Stranger in there, because of how alien Cait Coill is. Honestly, Cait Coill is all about the fear of the old and the unknown and being tricked. Which like—being tricked is Spiral domain, but nothing else about Cait is Spiral. I don't know where fear of the unknown fits, maybe in the Dark or the Vast? Idk. Probably gonna need help with this one.

And then you get âųšŮíŐ, and like—what a freaking grab bag that is. The body horror from the Flesh, some ideas about control from the Web, feeling of being watched everywhere from the Eye (also green eye imagery), meaningless pain and violence from the Slaughter. Also, I haven't encountered the Extinction much, but the wiki says it sometimes manifests as computers and code, so like—there's that. But it's not like œØŷňļ wants the world to end, so it doesn't line up with the Extinction there. Honestly I wouldn't be surprised if I could make an argument for every fear here.

Anyway, thanks for asking! I've wanted to ramble about this for a while XD

[crystalninjaphoenix]

Channeling the horror hype I’ve been feeling due to the Magnus Archives into writing the new Horror Septics part.

I swear, this podcast has infected how I’ll look at anything horror from now on XD I’m writing this and I’m like “oh this is Spiral domain” “this is Buried domain” “this is Eye domain” and it’s not gonna stop jsakdhlfjkl

[crystalninjaphoenix]

Random horror septics stories my beloved <3 that last chapter was as cool as it was horrifying though - I’m scared of what John’s agreed to, is he like, a puppet for Anti to manipulate as he pleases in the real world? But, also interested to see what all the other horrors will do about it. Hopefully everyone will come out ok in the end?? Excited for more though!!

Yay, glad you're excited! ^-^ Since I'm listening to the Magnus Archives for the first time I'm really in the mood for horror lately, so there's probably gonna be a longer chapter coming in the next few weeks. You'll get no spoilers from me, tho ;) Other than that John's really in over his head this time =)

[crystalninjaphoenix]

Wrote a horror thing today =)

[crystalninjaphoenix]

Dude!!! The latest update for horror septics was AMAZING!! I don’t think I’ve read a book anywhere else that has actually managed to creep me out as much as that chapter did, it was incredible!! I was wondering when Anti was gonna show, and oh boy was the wait worth it, wow!!! Also, poor John, I really want him to have a happy ending aaaaaa thank you for the latest instalment it was amazing!!

Thank you anon! Hope those scares were great >:) Yeah at some point during writing this story, I went back to reread a section and actually got the creeps. And I wrote it! jdkaslfhdskl But that's good.Őœūşß HAD to be scary, if all the other horrors are scared of it! I can make no promises for what any endings will be, but I myself don't like endings where characters go through so much only to die at the end, so at the very LEAST they're all gonna live. In what state, I can't say. Glad to hear you liked it! ^-^