Friday, October 31, 2014

Paint

https://redpandapainting.files.wordpress.com/2015/06/red-paint-backgrounds-red-paint-powerpoint-free-backgrounds-red.jpg

“I never wanted this.”

The words come because they have to. I’m holding a gun slumped in my hand, my legs bent and draped haphazardly over the stool underneath me. The room is dark; my eyes haven’t moved from her face in what seems like an eternity, and slowly she has come into focus, more real. Somewhere in this place I hear rhythmic tears of water echoing against steel piping.

“Fuck you.”

“I don’t…” I choke down a sticky sob. “You don’t know. You don’t know what it’s like…” I tap the top of the gun against my forehead, my shaking fingers making the motion a rapid staccato. “in here.”

I draw two quick hiccups of air between the words. The movement is the first acknowledgement I’ve made of the gun’s presence in the last hours.

Has it really been hours? Jesus.

I look at the metal in my hands and try to think, but there are no thoughts to be had that aren’t already here, filling the little room with disgusting perfumes that cloy at my nostrils and tug gnawingly at my senses. I’m sweating and can’t stop. I’m crying and can’t stop. Water is still dripping in the background, and the world feels moist and uncomfortable.

I know I have to be here; I’m supposed to be here. She is, too. And the gun. It’s all very important. I’m rocking back and forth now, lightly, pushing with the balls of my feet against the rungs of the stool legs. I hug myself tightly with my left arm, my right pressing against my leg as though trying to escape the object clutched in its sweaty palm.

I got me and the gun here. And she’s here, on the chair in the middle of the room, right across from me. I got her here, too.

“Why can’t you just leave?”

What a silly question for her to ask. Of course I can’t leave. I’m supposed to be here. I am. I am.

“I’m supposed to be here.”

I say it aloud for the first time, stating what really should have been obvious. My voice is more patient than I thought it would be. She doesn’t know. She can’t really know.

I don’t know.

“It’s my apartment. Shouldn’t I know who’s supposed to be here?”

It’s the kind of question a child would ask, I think, and for a moment I find a sort of clarity. Snorting my disbelief, I stop rocking and hold her gaze.

“You don’t know anything.”

I go back to rocking and find a point in the floor to stare at. It’s a splatter of color, and I realize that this little space must be where she gives birth to the portraits hung all throughout the rest of her home. Chips of dried paint crinkle between my jeans and the seat.

“Why don’t you tell me what you know? Maybe I can figure it out.”

I stop again and my eyes snap up to hers.

“I’m going to kill someone tonight.”

Her fear is instantaneous, and she looks like she wants to run, but she stays in her chair.

“Why?”

It’s all she says. I think that’s interesting.

“I don’t know. I just am.”

Rocking again.

“Are you out of your fucking mind? What do you want from me? What does that even mean?”

The fear carries her away, and the questions come out jumbled. But I answer them. I can do that.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure I am.”

She looks at me, confused.

“Out of my fucking mind…?”

I laugh. She just asked that, didn’t she? It was an easy question to answer. I sniffle and swallow hard.

“I don’t want anything from you. You’re supposed to be here. I’m supposed to be here. And the gun. I’m going to kill someone tonight.”

I say it as though it’s all there is to say. Because it is. I pick up the gun, not aiming anywhere in particular, and then lower it. I’m not supposed to use it yet.

She’s crying now, quietly. I understand. She looks up.

“Why me?”

I shake my head, back to staring at the splotch of paint on the wood flooring. I wipe a sleeve across my nose.

“Dunno. Just supposed to be. Just is.”

I’m becoming more disconnected, I know. It’s okay. I hear a noise somewhere outside but ignore it. This was the room that mattered, but now it isn’t, and we have to move. I lower my voice to a whisper.

“Get up.”

She looks at me with that fear again and I almost stop. But I’m not supposed to stop. Can’t stop. I hop up off the stool and reach down to grab her arm as gently as I can. She slaps at my hand, but I pull at her anyway. I don’t point the gun at her, but she remembers it’s there.

“Get up.”

She gets up.

“Go to the door.”

She goes to the door.

“Walk to your bed.”

She seems like she wants to look at me again, but she doesn’t. She starts walking across her living room, past the front door she never locks (who would ever want to steal from a starving artist like her?), and towards her bedroom beyond. I don’t follow. I’m not supposed to. I wait, silent.

The shadow is on her before she can even scream. She must think it’s me, pulling metal string around her neck and tightening her air away, but it’s not.

I’m over here. With the gun right where it’s supposed to be. I know it’s time. I take a few silent steps, aim, fire, and the shadow drops to the ground. The last look on his face is very confused. I guess I would be, too.

Her hands fly up to her throat and pull cord away, allowing the gasp of breath she takes to fly to her lungs with newfound freedom. Her eyes can’t decide whether to stare at the body seeping blood into her living room carpet or me, so they twitch from one to the other in rapid succession until she looks about ready to seize.

She knows the man on the floor. I saw him in a picture crumpled at the bottom of her drawer while I was waiting for her. Maybe an ex. Love makes you try to kill people sometimes, I guess.

I sniffle again, but I’m not crying. I did what I was supposed to do. She’s watching me still, and now only me, having realized that the lump on the ground is far more predictable.

She doesn’t try to stop me when I leave, but I feel her eyes follow me to the front door, and all the way down the hall beyond.


Credits to: paintthepainter

Thursday, October 30, 2014

Friendship


I was never blessed with an abundance of friends. The few friends I did have were truly wonderful, and I was content.

Aiden was like me. Quiet, shy, intelligent and introverted. We became best friends as children, and have remained as close as brothers our entire lives.

As all young boys do, we grew up. We graduated college, got jobs, and Aiden even got married! He has a young son, Jared, who refers to me as Uncle Eric. It’s the cutest thing when he comes up to me to show me some new and fascinating thing that he’s discovered, like the wonder of a firefly, or the beauty of a colorful flower. Children teach us to reevaluate things that we’ve learned to take for granted.

Aiden has been having a tough time lately. He and his wife separated and he’s been having financial difficulties for some time, between paying for full-time child care, his rent, and all his other bills. I’ve been helping as much as I can, but it never seems to be enough. Luckily, after thinking things over for a while, we came up with some ideas that may help his situation.

We were discussing one of those ideas when it happened. He turned to me with a wild look in his eye, and attacked me with a savagery I did not know he was capable of showing. He waited until there was no one around to help me before he made his move, like he’d been planning it. He was apparently under more stress than I’d realized…

I fought him off, but he was relentless. He simply would not give up… I had to do what I did. I had to kill him.

After it happened, I looked on in shock at his body now lying lifeless before me.

Oh well, I remember thinking, shaking myself out of my shocked stupor. I guess he changed his mind.

I shouldered my rifle and headed into the daycare.

---
http://photofreecreepypasta.tumblr.com/

Wednesday, October 29, 2014

Blue Ridge

http://www.blueridgemountains.com/images/SkyPhoto1.jpg


“Do you know where we’re supposed to park? Ingrid. Hey, did she tell you where to park?”

“What?” I turned away from the window and flashed Lloyd an apologetic look. “Sorry, I was just watching something…out the…”

“Ingrid.”

“Sorry! God, it’s been a long week. No, she didn’t say but since we’re the last ones there, I would assume we just park next to everyone else.”

“Actually, we’re not,” Moss piped up from the back seat. “Ben just texted that he’s still on the 87.”

“Guy sells two songs to Maroon 5 and now he thinks he can make us wait around like he’s a damn celebrity,” Lloyd mumbled.

“Please, Ben’s never been on time to anything in his life. Isn’t that half the reason the band broke up?” Moss laughed.

“Nah, the band broke up because Ash got deployed and Ben was always too good for it anyway.”

Moss smiled and sat back in his seat.

Lloyd and I had been together for four years and he’d been unemployed for three of them. He’d put everything he had into his band and for awhile it looked like Vintage Truth was going to make it. Then one day his guitarist, Ashley, up and joined the Marines and his drummer/songwriter, Ben, sold one of the band’s songs to a recording label for an ungodly amount of money. Lloyd had been wandering blindly through life since.

It was a obvious sore spot for him and no one mentioned Vintage Truth around Lloyd anymore. Well, no one but Moss.

“So where did Melanie find this place?” Moss nudged the back of my seat with his foot.

“Actually, Ashley found this one. He said he wanted something on Blue Ridge Mountain.”

“I’m surprised he had the time to book it, he’s only been back from Iraq for a couple weeks.”

“It only takes a few minutes on the internet.”

“Maybe for you, Ing. But the last cabin you rented us had rats the size of Lloyd’s mom’s dildos.”

“-those weren’t rats!”

“-fuck you, Moss.”

Moss laughed. “Just sayin’!”

“Those were mice. And I’m sure he found it on VRBO, the same place I find all of my cabins.” I rolled my eyes at Moss.

“Yeah,” Lloyd complained. “But this place is like 13 miles from town and the last 3 miles have been unpaved. You sure he’s not bringing us back here to kill us all?”

“I’m not an entirely certain, Lloyd, but if he is, I hope he shoots you first.”

“Oh come on, babe, you know love me.” Lloyd winked at me. I smiled at him and leaned over to give him a kiss. Just as my lips brushed his cheek, Moss sat up and thrust his arm in between us to point into the distance.

“There it is! Finally.”

The cabin was much bigger and older than it looked in the pictures Melanie had shown me. The home was three stories tall and built eloquently into the side of the mountain. It had a small clearing serving as a “front yard” and a dark, dense treeline beyond it.

“Wow, we’re really in the middle of nowhere…” I said to myself as Lloyd pulled into the small, dirt parking lot.

“Yep. That means we can be as drunk and loud as we want and there are no neighbors to complain.”

“Yeah,” I nodded, “I guess. I just hope we don’t get the bottom floor bedroom.”

“I’ll take the bottom bedroom,” Moss said from the backseat. “Lloyd’s mom needs the extra support of a concrete floor.”

“Moss, I fucking-”

Lloyd threw the car in park and lunged into the backseat just as Moss pushed open the door and ran for the staircase up to the main floor of the cabin. I shook my head as I watched Lloyd twist around, open his door and sprint out of the vehicle, laughing. Moss was inside the front door by the time Lloyd reached the bottom stair.

I got out and popped the trunk, tugging on the heavy, beer-laden cooler inside. After being cooped up with those two for three hours, I needed a drink.

I was struggling pretty hilariously when I heard an amused voice behind me.

“I can’t decide if I’d rather have the beer or the view.”

I spun around and pushed my ball cap up out of my eyes.

“Fucking Ash, get over here and help me.”

He laughed, striding casually over to the back of the car and I threw my arms around him in a tight hug. It had been 14 long months since I’d last seen my childhood friend.

“Hey, Ing, how’ve you been?”

“Good,” I said letting him go. “Have you seen your mom and dad since you’ve been back?”

Our families had always been close and I knew from talking to my mom how excited his parents were to see him.

“No, they’re flying out here next weekend. I’m picking them up from the airport like a good son.”

“Good.” I gave him a radiant smile. “So we have you all to ourselves for the next five days then.”

“Well, you’ll have to fight Mel on that. If it were up to her I’d never leave the bedroom.”

“Oh, god, gross, Ash. I don’t need to hear about that shit, you’re like my brother.”

Ash laughed. “Hear about what? I didn’t say anything.”

“Don’t even imply it. Whatever you and your girlfriend do-”

“Holy shit, as I live and breathe, is that the distinguished Ashley Allender?! What are you doing down there?”

Lloyd’s yelled down from the second floor deck.

“That’s Lance Corporal Allender to you. And I’m helping your girlfriend unload the car since you’re an asshole.”

“Oh fuck, I forgot babe, hang on!”

Lloyd set his beer on the railing and ran inside as Moss leaned against the door jam shaking his head at him as he passed by.

“He really is an asshole,” I laughed.

It was an hour and a few beers later that Ben finally pulled up in his brand new H2. Ash and Moss took turns hurling insults at Ben’s new “Pavement Princess” as Melanie and I sat back on the deck and tried not to laugh.

As soon as Ben walked out onto the deck, Lloyd thrust a beer into his hand.

“Finally! Now that we’re all here I call for a toast to our asshole friend Ash.”

“Oh yes!” Mel sprang up beside me and pulled Ash back into the circle as shook his head ardently and backed away from us.

“Come on, guys, this is embarrassing. Don’t fucking toast me.”

“That’s the whole reason we’re here, baby!”

“Mel…”

“Come on, Ash,” I teased. “Let your friends toast you. We haven’t seen you in forever.”

“Fuck, alright, make it quick.” Ash tried to look annoyed but failed hilariously.

“I’ll start, then.” Ben held up a bottle of his fancy Trappist beer and everyone else followed suit.

“Well, you are the lyricist.” Mel rolled her eyes playfully and pulled Ash’s arm around her.

“Ashley, what else can I say but thank you for both your service and the great honor of being your friend. We’re glad you’re home.”

We clinked our bottles together as Moss murmured: “That was disappointing.”

It was many cheers and many rounds later that I found myself alone with a drunken Moss and Ash.

“I- I’m so proud of you, Ash.” I stuttered, putting a friendly arm around him. “I wasn’t sure about all of this when you told me you’d enlisted but dammit if I’m not honored as hell to call you my friend.”

“Thank you, but honestly all the praise sorta makes me uncomfortable.”

“Really? Why?”

“Because I don’t know….most of the last 14 months was just training. I was only in Iraq for about 6 of it, in actual combat, for less.”

“Yeah, you must have seen some shit, though.” I nodded my head at him.

Ash was quiet for a beat too long and even in my drunken state I could tell the air had shifted. Moss - who was good at reading people and situations - broke the tension before it got too thick.

“I’ve seen some shit too, man.”

Ash and I looked up at him as he took a long, intense swig of his beer.

“On Lloyd’s mom’s website.”

Ash and I laughed and looked over at Lloyd, who was staring down at his phone, shaking his head.

“One fucking day, Moss.” He said without looking up.

“Oh, come on, man. That’s what I do. I’m a stand up comedian; it’s my job to make people laugh.”

“A struggling stand up comedian who wears makeup even when he’s off stage.” I added with a wink at Moss.

“No, I most certainly do-”

“Ben, you alright, man?” Ash interrupted and we all looked over to the corner of the deck where Ben was standing, looking out into wood.

“Ben.”

He didn’t look at us, but motioned Ash over with his hand. They stood in the corner and exchanged quiet words.

“What is it?” Mel asked after a minute.

“I think it was just a bear.” Ash answered her.

“Just a bear? A fucking bear?” Mel pulled her hoodie tighter around her.

“Well, we are in the middle of the woods, darling.” Moss said casually from his chair.

“Yeah, bears are to be expected out here,” Ash said, and gave Ben a look I couldn’t translate.

“Fuck that, I’m going inside. A bear could climb up on the deck you know,” Mel strode quickly over to the sliding door.

“That’s why you never come out into the forest without a gun.” Ash said from the corner of the deck, and he continued to stare out into the trees.

The next day no one got up until 11AM. By the time I walked out into the living room, Moss, Ash and Ben were up guzzling down water and wearing sunglasses to block out the bright sun streaming through the large, bay windows. Melanie was cheerfully making pancakes in the kitchen and Lloyd was out on the deck smoking a cigarette. “Last to the party, Ingrid. Means you have to go upstairs to my suitcase and grab more Excedrin.”

“Fuck you, Ashley.” I murmured as I dropped onto the sofa and threw my arm over my eyes.

“Guys!” Mel sang out from the kitchen. “We should go on a hike today!”

Her suggestion was met with a collection of unappreciative groans.

The hike didn’t happen until around 2 o'clock, after I’d had a shower and the boys had had a hair of the dog.

It was beautiful out, cool for that time of year, but no snow, at least. The hiking trail was well marked and easy to follow and I was glad for the fresh air. We were loud and boisterous but no one was around to hear us anyway. Our chance of seeing any animals out in nature, though, was laid completely nil. They could likely hear us coming from miles away.

I was at the back of the group with Ben and Lloyd. Ash had naturally taken the lead followed by Mel and Moss.

“How’s the music industry, Ben?” I heard Lloyd ask, nonchalantly.

“It’s good, man.” Ben seemed to hesitate for a minute. “But it needs more actual talent.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard what’s on the radio, I can’t disagree with that.” Lloyd laughed.

“I mean it needs you, man.”

“Me? I’m quit making music, you know that. I’m concentrating on writing my book.”

Book? I’d never heard Lloyd talk about a book.

“Your book?”

“Yeah. I’m writing a book. In the high fantasy genre.”

“Oh. You know you didn’t have to, though. Quit music.”

“Are we really gonna have this argument again, man? The band broke up, Ben, what do you want me to do. That was years ago.”

“It didn’t break up, Lloyd; you gave up on Vintage Truth. Yes, Ash left but you still had me, we could have found another bass player.” Ben said, accusingly.

My ears perked up. This was a version of the story I hadn’t heard before.

“You’d just sold ‘Tempered Hearts’ to Atlantic. You think I was going to hold you back?”

“You weren’t holding me back, Lloyd. All I wanted was to keep Vintage Truth going - you knew that and you left anyway. I told you I wanted to invest that money back-”

“Ben!” Ash’s voice called out ahead of us. “Can you come up here?”

“One second,” Ben said, and then disappeared to the front of our group. I raised an eyebrow at Lloyd.

He shook his head and looked away from me, pulling his pack of cigarettes from his pocket.

“You know,” I laughed, “the fresh mountain air-”

“Fuck the fresh mountain air.” Lloyd muttered.

The smile dropped from my face. We stood in an uncomfortable silence listening to Moss tell Melanie about a terrible date he’d had until Ben returned.

“What did Ash want with you?” I asked.

“He…nothing.”

“Oh, come the fuck on, Ben, what did he want?” Lloyd asked.

“He said someone was following us.”

I stopped and turned around. “What? Really? I haven’t seen anyone.”

“That’s what he said and he wanted me to watch the back of the group.”

“And did you see him? The guy following us?”

“I didn’t see shit, Ingrid.”

“That’s fucking weird.”

“Honestly, I’m not entirely sure Ash saw anything at all.”

Lloyd stared out into the wood and ran a hand through his mess of hair. “Do you think he’s still adjusting to being back?”

“Yeah, I do,” Ben admitted. “He was in an active war zone for four months. I think he might need more than a couple weeks to get used to being home.”

Over the next two days a thick blanket of tension descended over the cabin. Ash spent most of his time walking around the house, staring out the windows and going on solo hikes. Lloyd stayed in our room every day until the sun went down writing his book and Mel ferried back and forth between the two trying to get them to loosen up and socialize.

As for Moss, Ben and I, we spent our days getting drunk and trying to break up the tension. When that failed, I started looking around the cabin for books to read since clearly it was going to be a long week.

After a thorough search, I’d learned the only literature in the house was a Pictionary Dictionary and what looked like a handwritten diary.

“What the hell do you think this is?” I asked nobody in particular.

“It’s like a journal where past cabin guests write about their experiences.” Ben said from the couch nearby.

“Huh. Well, I do need something to read.”

“I wouldn’t bother,” Ben shook his head. “There’s never anything interesting in those things.”

I shrugged and threw the book on the kitchen counter, then went to grab another beer.

On the fourth day of our trip, I decided to get up early and make breakfast. I was upset that everyone seemed so down when this was supposed to be a fun trip to welcome Ashley home. It was time to make eggs and mimosas and change the waning tide.

When I walked into the kitchen at daybreak, I was surprised to see Ash standing over the sink staring out the window intently.

"Morning, Ash. What in the hell are you doing up so early?”

He didn’t answer me. I went to stand beside him and tried to follow his gaze.

“What are we looking at?”

“There’s three of them.” He said without moving.

“Three of what?”

“I don’t know.”

“Okay…” I backed away from the window. “Are you okay, man?”

Ash suddenly pointed out into the forest. “There! There’s one right there! Did you see it?”

I peered cautiously over his shoulder. I searched the wood but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary.

“What am I looking for? The bear?”

“There was no bear.”

“What was there, then?”

Ash didn’t say anything for a moment. “It’s hard to describe.”

“Alright. Can you draw a picture then?” I laughed. Ash finally looked away from the window.

“Yeah, I can.”

He grabbed the cabin journal off the counter where I’d thrown it the day before and tore out a blank page. Grabbing the nearest pen, Ash made a handful of strokes and handed the paper to me.

I looked at in confusion. “This is a stick figure.”

Ash nodded and went back to looking out the window. “Sometimes they seem to disappear, but they always reappear a few seconds later, close to where they were before.”

“Okay… Ashley, this, ah, stick man thing, it has a perfectly round head like this?” I pointed to his drawing. Ash nodded.

“And little stick arms and legs? And a little stick body?”

Ash suddenly spun toward me and grabbed my shoulders. “Ingrid, I don’t want Melanie sleeping in the room upstairs anymore. I can hear them at night. They walk around on the roof and tap on the sliding door to the balcony. She needs to sleep downstairs with you. These things are not safe.”

"O-Okay…”

Ash let go of me and walked out of the kitchen, taking the stairs two at a time up to his room. I didn’t end up making breakfast; instead I sipped mimosas and stared out the window for awhile, though all I saw were squirrels and deer.

Moss and Ben were the next to wake up and stumble into the kitchen. They walked right by me with a bleary-eyed nod and grabbed three beers out of the fridge, handing one to me. We drank in silence for a minute while I tried to decide on the best verbiage to tell them about Ash. Just as I was contemplating telling them at all, Mel bounded into the room and took stock of the three of us as we all froze mid-gulp. She tsk-tsked.

“Look at all these beer bottles littered around the cabin. Are you guys planning to clean up your empties?”
Moss, Ben and I exchanged glanced. Ben was first to lower his beer.

“Oh, don’t mind these fallen soldiers,” he said, bring a trash can to the edge of the counter and sweeping a group of empty bottles into it. “Thank you for your service, boys.”

Moss and I lowered our drinks and saluted the bottles as they clanged to the bottom of the trash can.

“Oh, you three are ridiculous. And probably alcoholics.” Mel laughed and shook a righteous finger at us.

“-no probably about it.”

“-cheers to that.”

“-it’s easier to do Lloyd’s mom when I’m drunk.”

Lloyd walked into the kitchen just then and threw Moss such a rage-filled look that I involuntarily took a step away from him.

“M- morning babe…” I tried.

Lloyd grabbed the nearby empty orange juice bottle from the counter and threw it into the trash. Saying nothing to anyone, he stalked back to his room just as Ash came down the stairs. He was holding his beanie and his jacket.

“Hey, where you goin’, man?” Ben asked.

“To the nearest cabin I can find.”

“Wait, babe!” Mel ran over to him as Ash turned away from us and threw open the front door. “Why? Do you want me to go with you?”

“To find more ammunition. I didn’t bring enough.”

“Enough for what….” Moss asked slowly.

“For them. They’re getting closer to the house. They’ve started coming out in the day now, too.”

“What?”

“Who is, babe?”

Ben and I exchanged a glance over a confused Moss and Mel. “Ashley.” Ben said soberly. “If someone is stalking us, let’s just leave right now. Why bother with ammunition?”

Ash laughed as if it were the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard. “We can’t leave. They’ve already disabled all the vehicles.”

“They what?!”

“Of course they did.” Ash said, incredulously.

“We’ll call for a tow then.”

“Yeah, on what? When is the last time any of you saw your phones?”

I glanced around the room. Not since yesterday.

“Look, just stay in the house,” Ash ordered. “I’ll be gone five hours at the most. No one leaves, no matter what you see outside. They’ll probably be more brazen once I’m gone. Got it?”

“Ashley…” Mel whispered, uneasily.

“Just…sigh…just stay here, Mel, please. I can’t protect any of you if you go outside.” Ash walked over and hugged Mel tightly, kissing the top of her head.

“Ash, let me go with you.” Ben said.

“Ashley, take someone with you.” I agreed.

Ash let go of Mel and walked out the door without saying another word to anyone.

We spent the rest of the morning trying to find our phones, connect our laptops to wifi and start our cars. When all of that failed, we tried to drink our worries away while Mel sat on the loveseat and stared out the window arranging her gentle features to an impassive, stony expression. And when the rain set in around 1, and the thunder began to shake the house, we stopped drinking and started pacing.

Lloyd - deeply focused on his book - wouldn’t unlock the door or speak to anyone until the rain started. At that point Ben and I sat everyone down and told them we knew of Ash’s current state of mind. The five of us stood in my bedroom leaning against the wall and rubbing our faces in stress and exhaustion.

“Why the fuck did you guys let him leave?” Lloyd asked in horror.

“I don’t know!” Melanie cried. “I didn’t want him to; I tried to go with him!”

“I’m talking to these three drunk idiots over here.“

Ben opened his mouth to object but I beat him to it.

"We’re on fucking vacation, Lloyd, that’s why we’re drinking and hanging out while you’re sitting behind a closed door working on some fucking book I’ve never heard of.”

“All you, Ben and Moss have done is get drunk for the last three fucking days.”

“At least we’ve been doing something!”

"Alright.” Lloyd sighed. “Let’s just figure out what we’re going to do.”

“I’m going to go upstairs and lay down.” Melanie said, flatly. “Wake me up when Ashley gets back.”

“Mel-” started Ben.

“Please.” She held up a hand, “I can’t. I just need to lay down for awhile.

As soon as Mel walked out the door, Moss began talking lowly.

"Guys, it’s now been 5 and a half hours since Ash left. He said 5 hours at most. I think we should go look for him.”

“No!” Ben said quickly. “We can’t leave the house. That’s the last thing Ash said before he left.”

“Ash isn’t thinking clearly,” I interjected. “He may be hurt or lost or both. We need to go find him.”

“Does he have his phone?” Lloyd asked.

“No one has their phones.” Ben’s voice was impassive.

As Lloyd listened to Moss and Ben make their arguments for going after Ash or listening to his warning, I stared out the window at the trees Ash had been watching earlier. Movement had caught my eye beyond the treeline and I was desperately trying to find what was out there. But, in the darkened, stormy sky, the task was almost impossible. I listened absentmindedly as I searched.

Lloyd: “What made him think there were any cabins nearby?”

Moss: “I figured he saw one on the way in.”

Lloyd: “And what made him think those cabins had spare ammo?”

Moss: “I think that was a gamble on his part.”

Lloyd: “So then he must have seen something that really freaked him out.”

Ben: “He did.”

Lloyd: “Then, what, he disabled all the cars himself? And stashed the phones somewhere?”

Ben: “This is really not good, guys.”

Moss: “Look he’s our friend and he needs help. Whatever he’s doing, you know he doesn’t realize he’s doing it.”

There! There it was. In the trees. Something was high in the trees, hanging on one branch from their arms and standing on the one below it facing the cabin. There was no way it was an animal. Even in the dark and the distance I could tell it was human. Just as I was about to point it out to Lloyd, lightning flashed and my night vision disappeared. I would have looked for the figure again but something else had caught my eye in the half second of light. Something that was in the clearing that shouldn’t be there.

Without saying a word, I walked out of the room and down the hall to the living room. Though the sky was dark and the light was minimal, there was no denying what was laying out in the darkness.

The boys had followed me with questions and alarm but when they saw what I saw the cabin went silent. “What the fuck…”

Moss gave a nervous laugh. “He’s fucking with us. That’s Ash fucking with us. It has to be.”

“I don’t think so,” Ben whispered.

Through the sheets of rain and the encroaching fog on the mountain there had appeared a fresh mound of dirt the size of a person and a large rock that seemed to serve as a tombstone.

It was a grave, though I had no idea if anything was in it. I tore my eyes from the macabre scene in front of me and Lloyd suddenly grabbed Moss and pinned him up against the wall. I hadn’t heard was said, but Lloyd was suddenly very pissed off.

“Is that another fucking joke about my mother, Moss?!”

“No! No man, I was just saying-”

“I’ve had enough of your goddamn shit. If you ever-”

“Lloyd,” I screamed at him, “Let go of him. Since when do you give a wet fuck about Moss’s jokes? We have bigger issues right now!”

“Stay the fuck out of this, Ingrid.”

I looked to Ben for help but he was still staring at the grave outside.

A creak of old wood behind us broke the spell and we all turned to see Mel coming down the stairs.

“Why are you guys yelling?”

I took a step toward her like I was trying to corner a frightened animal. “Mel…”

“Has Ashley- what the fuck is that?”

Lloyd let go of Moss and took a step toward Melanie’s other side. “Mel.”

Mel stumbled on a stair but caught herself. “Is that a fucking grave?”

“Mel, relax, it’s just Ash fucking with us,” said Moss.

"Shut up, Moss, Ash didn’t do this.” Ben snapped.

“Is that a fucking grave?!” Mel yelled and bolted for the sliding glass door to the deck.

“Mel, wait!”

She slid the door open and was about to run out into the rain when Ben caught her around the waist. “You can’t go out there!” He yelled.

Mel suddenly collapsed in a pile of tears and screams.

“It’s him! It’s Ashley, he’s dead! Oh my God, Ashley no, fuck, who did that. Who put him in there? Ashley…”

Ben deposited Mel on the loveseat and Lloyd closed the door. Mel buried herself in the cushions and sobbed.

"If it is Ash in that grave, “Lloyd whispered to us. "Then who buried him?”

“Ask Ben.” I shot Ben a questioning look. It was clear he knew more about the situation than he was saying.
He returned my look with one of warning.

“ I know you saw something, too, Ben.”

“Well, what did you see, Ingrid?” Moss asked.

“I- I saw someone in a tree. I think. They were hanging from one of the branches at the top.”

“Yeah,” Ben sighed. “I’ve seen them, too.”

"Them?” Lloyd raised an eyebrow.

“Or 'it’, rather. It’s not a person.”

“Well, then what is it?”

“It’s…hard to describe.”

“Wait!” I ran into the kitchen and grabbed Ash’s drawing off the counter.

“Did it look like this?” I held the paper out to Ben.

“Yes. Sort of. I mean I think so, I didn’t see it that well.”

Moss laughed. “That’s a stick figure. Big round head, lines for body and limbs… That’s a child’s drawing.”

“No,” I said, “It’s Ashes depiction of what is out there, this is what he thought he was seeing. Look, if it’s Ash or somebody else - and fuck, I pray that it’s Ash - I agree with Ben that it’s not safe. Maybe they’re just trying to scare us but either way, we can’t leave this cabin.”

“Somebody go help Ashley…” Mel moaned from behind us.

Lloyd shook his head and gave her a gentle look. “There’s nothing we can do, Mel.”

The rain let up as the sun set that night, though we had already been under darkness for hours from the storm. We’d agreed that Moss and Mel would sleep on the 2nd floor - the main floor - with everyone else. We also decided to rotate sentry shifts all night so that someone was always awake waiting for Ash and watching for the figure in the woods. All except Mel, who was an inconsolable mess. She was the first to pass out.

I conversed quietly with Lloyd until Moss and Ben went to Ben’s room down the hall to sleep.

“I don’t want to sleep, Lloyd. I can’t.” I whispered in the darkness.

“You need to try. Your shift isn’t until 4am.”

“I don’t want to sleep in the back bedroom alone.”

“Then you shouldn’t. Go get the quilts and pillows and sleep out here next to Mel.” He yawned.

“It’s freezing out here.”

“I know, Ing, I’ll go down to the basement and throw some more wood in the furnace. I would have done it earlier but…that room freaks me out.”

“I haven’t been down there yet but everything about this cabin freaks me out. Are you gonna be able to stay awake until Moss’s shift?”

“Yeah, I’m going to write.” Lloyd pointed to his laptop on the couch.

I gathered up 2 quilts and a pillow from our room and left the rest of the bedding for Lloyd. Even though I didn’t feel at all tired I fell into a dreamless asleep almost immediately. I woke up just as the first rays of sunlight were drawing the darkness from the room. I shot up when I realized I must have missed my shift.

Mel was still sleeping next to me, shaking in the cold of the morning. It was clear Lloyd had never put more wood in the furnace. There was no one else in the room.

“Lloyd?” I yelled down the hall. He didn’t answer.

“Lloyd!” I yelled louder and got to my feet, dropping my quilts over Melanie.

A door opened and a red-eyed Ben stumbled out. “What’s wrong?”

“I slept through my shift. Did you?”

“Yeah…I think Moss took them all. Is he not out there?”

“No. Is he not in there?”

“No.”

We both turned our heads at the same time to look down the hall at Lloyd’s door. The implication was sobering. Ben turned back and gave me a nod that acted more as an agreement between us. He turned back down the corridor to check on Lloyd and I drew a deep ragged breath before I turned around to do my part.

And it was there, the thing I hadn’t wanted to see. A second grave had appeared next to the first; with another giant rock to serve as tombstone.

“Ben…”

“We have to wake her up soon.” I looked over at Mel as I sat on the couch absentmindedly folding and unfolding Ash’s drawing over and over.

“Not yet.” Lloyd stared through the window at the rain and smoked out of the cracked door.

“So…he didn’t say anything to you? Did he tell you he was planning to go outside?” I asked.

“He didn’t say anything to me. I woke Moss up, told him it was his turn, he nodded and then got up and I went to bed.”

“We told him to stay in the cabin,” Ben muttered, shaking his head. “It’s not safe out there. They’re out there.”

“What are they?” I asked.

“Does it matter?” Ben didn’t spare me a look.

Lloyd flicked his cigarette outside and slid the door shut. “Not anymore. This is only a game of survival now.”

“Yes it does matter,” I countered. “Part of surviving is knowing how to defend ourselves.”

“Then we do what Ash told us to do and stay in the cabin until someone comes looking for us.” Ben said.

“And if Ash is the one doing this?” I shot back.

“It’s NOT Ash.”

Mel continued to sleep while we argued quietly with each other. The rain the day before had left the mountain butty and soaked in mist. The graves were thankfully concealed by a thick, gray fog by the time Mel woke up.

The entire morning something had been bothering me about the room we were standing in. Something was not right, something had changed. I could see it there out of the corner of my eye. But every time I turned to look nothing was out of place. It distressed me to the point that I brought it up to Ben and Lloyd.

“Do you guys notice anything…I don’t know, different around here?”

“Yeah. There are graves in the front yard.”

“No, Lloyd, I mean different about this room. Something is agitating me…”

I followed my peripheral vision around the room again but nothing popped out at me.

“No, Ingrid. Right now we’re trying to figure out how best to survive outside the house.”

“Wait, we- we’re leaving the cabin?” I sputtered.

“Lloyd thinks we should,” answered Ben.

“What, no, why the fuck would we do that?!”

After continuing to argue for hours with Ben and Lloyd about the best course of action we decided that, in the absence of phones and neighbors, the two of them would have to try and fix one of the cars with their limited knowledge of mechanics. Since Lloyd’s jeep was the oldest - and therefore, they reasoned, the most mechanically simple - they decided to work on that car first.

I was to stand guard on the overlooking deck and watch anything that moved. Ash had taken his gun with him when he left the day before, but we reasoned a warning was better than nothing at all.

Mel spent most of the morning sitting on the deck with me, watching the trees through the fog. I don’t know when she noticed the absence of Moss and the appearance of the second grave but she never said anything about it either way.

The boys had only been out there an hour when I heard a loud thud from above us. It had come from the roof.

“Mel, did you hear that?” I whispered.

She nodded but continued her vigil over the wood. I leaned over the railing and yelled down at Ben, who was sitting in the front seat of the car keying the ignition.

“I’ll be right back. Mel will watch you guys.”

Ben nodded but Lloyd had his head buried in the engine which was desperately trying to turn over. Mel turned her head to look down at them but otherwise seemed uninvested.

“If you see anything, yell out, ok?”

Mel gave an almost imperceptible nod.

“I mean it, Mel, anything.”

“Yep.”

Having no plan at all except to hope I’d hear it again, I went inside and climbed the stairs to Mel and Ash’s room on the 3rd floor. I stood there quietly for what seemed like ages with only the sound of the jeep turning over to pierce the silence of the mountain. Finally, I went to the sliding door to look at the treeline of the forest, which was now almost entirely veiled by fog.

And then I heard it. But it wasn’t a thud…it was footstep. I caught my breath. And then another footstep. Someone was walking on the roof directly above me. They were slow, heavy, careful footsteps.

On blind, dumb instinct I ripped open the sliding door to the balcony. Just as I took a step out, an earsplitting scream sliced through the chill, outside air.

Lloyd.

I spun away from the door and ran down the stairs as fast as I could, falling once on the landing. I jerked on the front door to run outside but it wouldn’t budge. In desperation, I ran out onto the deck to find Mel where I’d left her - completely unaware and again staring at the trees.

I ran to the railing and saw only one person; someone was running towards a copse of trees and dragging something behind him. It looked too tall to be Ben or Lloyd. I screamed for Melanie and she instantly snapped out of her spell.

“Wha- what happened?”

“Didn’t you hear Lloyd scream?!” Mel followed me inside and I again tried the front door, screaming for Ben and Lloyd in blind panic.

“Ingrid?” I heard a voice echo up the basement stairs.

“Ben!” My voice broke over his name.

I ran down the basement stairs skipping two or three steps at a time as Mel hurried behind. When I reached the bottom, Ben was standing in the doorway of the basement bedroom holding a small, black box.

“Ben, where’s Lloyd?” I choked out as soon as I saw him.

“What?”

“Where the fuck is Lloyd?!”

Ben looked perplexed and nodded at the open door I hadn’t noticed before. “He’s still out with the car, wh- why aren’t you guys watching him?”

“He’s not there,” I shook my head in despair and tears spilled down my cheeks. “I heard him scream and I just saw someone running away from the jeep.”

The small box fell from Ben’s hands and crashed to the floor, assorted tools fanning out in every direction. I made for the door but Ben caught me in one arm and slammed the door shut with the other.

“No, Ingrid. Don’t.”

I thrashed against him ineffectively until I melted into a sobbing pile of broken girl at his feet. Ben sat down on the floor next to me and held me while I convulsed in sobs. Mel watched the scene for a moment and then slid down the side of the old, metal furnace to rest her back against it and silently cry.

I don’t know how long we sat there but it felt like only minutes. The tears hadn’t even dried from my face when we heard a door creak open upstairs. I knew immediately it was the jammed front door.

Mel’s eyes widened and Ben slowly let go of me and stood up. He put a finger to his lips and began quietly climbing the stairs - we’d left the basement door open.

Mel and I barely breathed as we heard Ben’s footfalls reach the landing. Suddenly there was the sound of heavy footsteps running across the floor above us. We heard Ben run up the rest of the way to the door and slam it shut. Then silence. Mel and I got to our feet.

Ben descended back down to the basement and by the time he got to the bottom his face had drained of color and his body was wracked with shudders.

“Who was it, Ben?”

“Was it Ashley?”

Ben shook his head and ran a trembling hand through his hair. “The- the door locks from this side. We should be safe.” But I didn’t think a locked door was going to stop it.

We sat Ben down and Mel held him while I paced around the room. There was no more sound from above but that meant we hadn’t heard the thing leave, either. I walked back and forth the basement floor staring out the window as I passed by it until the fog momentarily cleared and I saw the third grave. Lloyd’s grave. I grabbed onto the window ledge as my legs gave out beneath me. I tried to recover quickly, for Mel’s sake. I knew she was barely holding it together.

“What? What is it?” Mel asked.

“Nothing. It’s nothing; I just haven’t eaten in a couple days.”

Ben gave me a look that said he knew what I’d seen and Mel sprang up to run to the window since she wasn’t buying it either.

“No…” Mel whispered and her voice cracked. “No! We have to find Ashley. He can stop all this!”

Before I could grab her, Mel was on the staircase, taking them two at a time.

“Mel!” I screamed at her.

“What if that was Ashley up there? What if he’s come back for us?”

Melanie, being the gentle soul that she was, just wasn’t prepared to handle anymore. She had finally snapped and was out of her mind in grief and fear.

By the time I caught up with her, Mel had already throw open the basement door and stepped out into the living area. There was nothing there. I entered the room cautiously behind her and immediately noticed that whatever had been bothering me that morning was still there and that the uneasy feeling it gave me was more pronounced than ever.

“Melanie…” I breathed. “We have to get out of here.”

I stepped toward her to drag her back down the stairs but she bolted for the front door which was still standing open. I took one last long look around the room figuring that - since the feeling was now so strong - it should be easier to discover the source of it. Failing, I ran out the door and down the stairs after Mel.

By the time I reached the ground, Ben had already thrown open the basement door and was ahead of me in the chase. By the time he reached her, Mel was tearing through the wet soil of the first grave plot with her bare hands.

Ben went to pull her away and then suddenly froze. I came up next to him and watched as Mel tore through the mud and dirt for an eternity until she finally hit packed earth.

“It’s empty.” She looked up at us with mud and tears dripping down her face. “Ashley isn’t dead!”

“Ash is alive…” I breathed. “Are- are all of these graves empty?”

I walked over to the grave that would have been Lloyd’s and began scraping away the loose earth. It was much easier to dig up than the first plot had been because the grave was fresh and the dirt was dry. Mel sat back on her haunches and watched me hopefully as Ben stared out ahead of us.

“Guys…”

“Ben, fucking help me.”

“Guys, we have to go. Now.” Ben said without looking away from the trees.

“But Lloyd-”

My fingers caught on something hard deep in dirt. And I didn’t have to know much to know I was suddenly holding a rib cage. I jerked my hand out in horror.

“Jesus fuck!”

I fell back on my hands and scooted away from the hole in revulsion.

Mel shook her head in disbelief. “But…”

“Then it’s Ash!” I screamed at her. “It’s Ash who’s doing this! He’s killing everyone, he killed Lloyd!”

Mel shook her head fervently and stood up to walk over to me. “How-”

“He’s been murdering us, Melanie, don’t you get it? His mind is fucked. He killed Moss and he killed Lloyd and he’ll kill you too. He’s out there right now-”

SLAP

Melanie pulled her hand back and cradled it to her breast. “How dare you. How dare you?! You’re supposed to be his friend, Ingrid, you’ve known him all your life. Ashley didn’t do this. Ashley would never hurt the people he loved!”

I cupped my cheek with the hand that had so recently held Lloyd’s bones. “There is no other possibility, Melanie.” I said, icily.

She took a step away from me, and opened her mouth but it fell into a gape and her face suddenly went white. Mel stumbled and fell to the ground but was back on her feet in an instant. She looked up at the house and then back down at me.

“He deserved better from his friends, Ingrid.” Mel’s voice cracked and then she turned and fled for the treeline.

“Ben!” I screamed, “Stop her!” But Ben was already moving toward me at lightning speed. He grabbed my arm and pulled me to my feet and back toward the cabin.

“Ben!” I screamed. “We have to get Mel!”

“Mel is gone, we can’t help her now.”

As soon as the door to the cabin closed behind us, I ripped off my mud caked jacket and threw it at Ben.

“What the fuck are we doing?!”

“They were there. They were out there.”

“There is no 'they’, Ben. There’s only Ash.”

“No, Ash is dead; he was probably dead within minutes of walking out of this cabin.”

“Then where’s his body, Ben? Why was his grave empty?”

I knew I was starting to snap. The shock, the absurdity of it all…my brain couldn’t compartmentalize it anymore.

“I don’t know. It was the first grave; it was made to- made to draw us out there.”

“By Ash. There’s no other logical-“

"No,” Ben shook his head, “Mel was right, Ash wouldn’t do that.”

“Well he did do that.”

“You’re wrong.”

“Because there’s no other alternative-”

“Those things we’re seeing aren’t Ash!”

“-and I refuse to believe that stick figure people-”

“ You have to accept the fact-”

“-are running around the woods killing our friends-”

“-that we’re being hunted out here-”

“- and field-stripping their dead bodies!”

“-by something fucked up and inhuman!”

”-when it’s clearly Ashley suffering from some sort of PTSD!“

"It’s not Ash, Ingrid.”

"He murdered Lloyd!”

“Listen to me-“

"Ashley fucking murdered Lloyd!”

“No-“

“There’s no-“

“I DID IT! Okay? I killed Lloyd!”

I shook my head, disoriented and took a step backward.

“It was me, Ingrid! I killed Lloyd.”

“Why are you saying that…” I choked.

“Because it’s true. Out by the jeep-”

“Stop.”

“And I’m pretty sure that Lloyd ki-”

“Stop!”

“Ingrid, you have to listen to me if you want to survive. Those things, they have this power - when they’re near you - to make you so angry. Fuck, I mean, fuck, I just, I couldn’t stop beating Lloyd’s head in with a-”

“STOP!” I gasped, trying desperately to draw air into my lungs. I clutched the back of the couch for support. I could feel a blind, foreign rage building in me and I turned my knuckles white trying to quell it.

“Are you on Ash’s side?” I whispered, finally. “Did he tell you to hurt Lloyd?”

“No, I just…I just killed him.“

"And who peeled the flesh from his bones and buried him in the ground then, Benjamin?” I said and was unsettled by the flat, impassive tone of my voice.

“They did.”

“Why would they do that?”

Ben nodded to Lloyd’s computer, which was sitting open on the coffee table where he’d left after he went to bed at the end of his watch.

“Read what Lloyd has been writing, Ingrid.”

Keeping a wary eye on Ben I rounded the couch and picked up the computer, waking up the monitor with a swipe of my finger.

There were only 15 pages - which didn’t seem like much for the days he’d spent locked away writing - and while it started out like any other story, the text quickly descended into nonsense and random strings of alphanumeric until the last three pages on which he’d simply typed It Eats Us over and over again.

I slammed the laptop shut and threw it on the loveseat. Then I walked over to fridge, pulled out the last beer in it - one of Ben’s- and dropped down into the nearest chair.

Ben hadn’t moved.

“I’m so sorry, Ingrid. I’m so sorry. I loved Lloyd like a brother and I just snapped. I was just holding the crowbar and thinking about-”

“Stop talking, Ben.”

He stopped but choked on a pent-up sob. Ben was right. Mel was right. It wasn’t Ash, it couldn’t be. It was something else all along, something that lived out in the wood.

“Ingrid, I have to-”

“Ben, the only reason you’re telling me this is because they want you to, I’d guess. I don’t have a reason to hate you and so they’re allowing you to give me one.”

CREAK

Ben and I looked at each other and then at the door to the basement. It was coming up the stairs.

I knew it was over, we were totally fucked. There was nothing left to do but die. I raised my beer to Ben, gave him a solemn nod, took a long gulp and then hurled the bottle at the basement door where is shattered into tiny pieces.

“Fuck you.”

“Ingrid,” Ben brought my attention back to him and he looked at me pleadingly, through the veil of a thousand different emotions. “Run.”

Before I could respond, Ben dove for the basement door and threw himself down the stairs. I shot up out of the chair in horror as his body made the most tortured and sickening screams I had ever heard.

I stood there for long seconds listening to his flesh ripping apart to the soundtrack of a low, satisfied growl.

I was frozen. I was alone. And as I looked desperately around the room for something to fight it with, I found the thing that I couldn’t see before, the thing that had bothered me about the room since Moss disappeared.

And it wasn’t unexpected or unsettling; it was just…out of place.

There had appeared sometime overnight a long, very thin black line that ran vertically against the wall from floor to almost ceiling. It was hard to see and at first glance it appeared to be a crack in the wood but when I really looked at it, it somehow wasn’t actually on the wall at all.

And then, as I was studying it, it moved and expanded to become the tall, black stick man from Ash’s drawing. No, it hadn’t expanded…it had turned toward me. And the thing was as thin as a piece of construction paper.

I can tell you that when you’re presented with something so impossible and something so innately wrong, you don’t scream. You don’t gasp. You just stand there frozen with confusion and, in my case, crippling fear.

It took another creak from the basement stairs to snap me out of my catatonia. The creature that had been quietly standing in front of me suddenly sprang to life and ran at me with all the fluidity of an animated drawing.

Since it was between me and front door I turned and fled out onto the deck through the sliding glass door which Mel had left blessedly open. I ran to the end of the patio, and without taking half a second to think, climbed over the wooden railing and jumped off.

I heard the bones break underneath me when I landed but adrenaline kept the pain from crippling me entirely. I ran as best I could across the clearing toward the treeline. The fog thinned suddenly in the direction I was running and I saw the third stick man waiting for me in the trees.

I quickly tried to change course and fell on my broken ankles. When I looked up to see if it was coming toward me, I saw that it wasn’t actually a stick man at all, it was something almost worse. It was Melanie.

She was hanging by the neck from a tree branch, facing the cabin and, consequently, me. I was on my feet and running toward her in under a second. When I got to her I could tell immediately that I was far too late and too short to reach the branch she was hanging from. All I could do was watch her dead body swing in the wind and cry. The rope she hung from looked like it couldn’t hold her weight, but it did. Where did she even get it?

I looked back at the house then, to see if the stick men were close, but it wasn’t them that I noticed. It was what Melanie had seen out at the graves, the thing that made her run.

Ash was on the roof, lying there, splayed out for us all to see. His head was untouched and his face held a look of intense pain and horror. His hands and shoes were pristine, too. But the rest of his body; from his neck, to his wrists, to his ankles were picked clean of flesh. He was simply a brittle skeleton with a face.

So, they had done this. They had done this to Ash and they were doing the same to Mel, giving her the tools she needed to die. And soon she would look just like Ash did. I couldn’t bear the thought.

I tried everything I could think of to get her down from the tree until the physical pain ebbed in and, just as it did, I saw the shape of a stick man walking toward me through the fog. I told Melanie I was sorry and then I ran, falling only once as I sprinted away from the horrors of the mountain.

The Stick Man never caught me because it didn’t want to. After hours of walking, when I thought the agony of my broken bones and soul was going to kill me, I could still see them in the wood. And Ash was right, there were three. They would appear as a silhouette and then disappear as they turned to walk and reappear…well, anywhere. But they would always end up closer to me than they were before.

And then, long after night had fallen, I tripped on a dirt road and didn’t get back up. I stared up at an empty, starless sky and waited for a passerby or a Stick Man to claim me. It ended up being the former.

No one ever believed me about the Stick Men.

They told me all of our phones were found in our rooms. They said there was nothing wrong with the cars. That may be true now, but it wasn’t then. I know they’ll never believe me about what really happened out in the woods, but I’ll always know.

The Stick Men stripped our souls away.

And then the Stick Men ate what was left.


Credits to: The_Dalek_Emperor

Tuesday, October 28, 2014

My Childhood Home

http://treasurechestofmemories.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/04/My-childhood-home.jpg

My mother moved into this one storey, white house on a corner when I was about four years old. I vaguely remember visits there, but nothing of importance. Then, my mom got pregnant with my sister. For the sake of the story, let’s name my sister Olivia.


Until Olivia was about two years old, nothing really happened in the house. As we both got older, and more active around the house, things began to start that still scare me fourteen years later.

It started with the dog, Daizy. The doors would always open randomly and let her outside, or she would somehow become unclipped off her chain, but I was always told it was the wind, and that Daizy had figured out to unclip it herself. We also had a huge, brick fireplace, with a concrete slab on top that held all the photographs in frames of various sizes and shapes. I remember sitting in the living room, on many separate occasions and watch all the photographs, and there was about 15 of them, all fall down at the exact same time. Some fell frontwards, some fell back, but it was always at the same time. Whenever I asked my mom about it, she just said we were playing to rough, or the dog was jumping around, causing them to fall.

With all the photographs, it can be said that my mom loved to take pictures. I have a photo where Olivia, Daizy and I are sitting on the floor and there is a white, semi transparent very clear human figure crawling on the floor in front of us. There is another photo of my mom and my uncle, and there is a woman behind them, who obviously wasn’t there.

There were various things that would occur, bed covers being pulled of, lights would go out, things would be moved. On a sadder note, besides the cat my mom brought with her, all seven pets (5 cats, Daizy, and a guinea pig) my mom bought, including a kitten for my birthday, died. They all died very suddenly, and very early in their lives. We stopped getting pets after the kitten.

One of the biggest things that happened, still haunts my mom to this day. Olivia and I had bunkbeds, and even though she was about three now, she got the whole bottom bunk to herself. I was sleeping at my moms that night and climbed the ladder to get to my bed, watched The Jungle Book with Olivia and fell asleep.

I don’t remember anything else that happened, but my mom told me when I was older, that she went in because she had heard crying. She walked in to find me on the bottom bunk, curled into a ball in the corner, sound asleep, and Olivia, off the bed, kneeling on the ground, with her hands on the bed, clasped into a prayer position, also sound asleep.  My mother was worried about the prayer stance, and immediately fixed Olivia, left us both on the bottom bunk and left the door opened.

I was also never allowed in the basement by myself, and my mom refused to go down there. I always assumed it was because from the one time I went down there, it was made of concrete, and was freezing.

My mom moved out of my house after two years, and when she told me I was not upset in anyway. Two years ago my mother and I were having a talk about the old houses, where she admitted something to me.

Three weeks before we moved in, the husband and the wife living there had a fight, and the husband beat the wife to death in an angry rage in the living room. He then, in fear of getting caught, stuffed her body into the crawl space in the basement, where she remained for three days before someone found her.

I’d always wondered why we never removed that ratty, stained rug from the living  room floor.


Credits to: http://uhm-fuck.tumblr.com/

Monday, October 27, 2014

The Closet Door


I live in a house that was never quite finished when it was first being built, and so there are a couple of things in it that are out of place. For example, the spare bedroom has an unfinished wall, the 2-by-4s and insulation left exposed. The bathroom floor is just cement with no tiles and unpainted walls. And, in my own room, nobody had put a door on my closet.

Now, I’m not superstitious and I’ve never been too afraid of the dark, but it freaked me out to sleep next to what looked like a gaping void of darkness at night. Maybe it was the childhood fear of ‘monsters in the closet’, but I’d gotten used to sleeping with my back to the door, so I wouldn’t have to open my eyes in the middle of the night and see the black hole that was my closet, half expecting to see glowing eyes or a looming shape in there at any moment. This was especially annoying in the summer months, when the side of the bed I slept on got hot quickly, so I finally decided to do something about it.

The laundry room of my house had been turned into a sort of storage room for pieces of plywood, nails, and other hardware. After shuffling around through the mess, I found my saving grace, a door that looked like it would fit over my closet. It was old and definitely needed a new paint job, but it would do. The only problem was the doorknob, which was rusted and had a lock on it. It was probably meant to be a back door or something, but it wasn’t that big a deal. The way it would go on my closet, the actual locking mechanism would be on the inside and the keyhole would be on the outside, but it’s not like I’d ever lock myself out of my own closet unless I had the key.

After a good couple hours of struggling with screws and hinges (I was too stubborn and broke to call in a professional to install it), I finished putting it up in my room. I gave it a few test-swings. A little squeaky, but otherwise good. Finally, I could sleep facing my closet without freaking myself out with thoughts of monsters and infinite darkness threatening to swallow me in my sleep.

That night, as I slept, something woke me up in the middle of the night. It was a squeaking noise, faint but noticeable. I sat up in bed and stared at my door. It was slightly open. My heart pounded, but I quickly calmed myself down. I wasn’t used to having a door. I must’ve forgotten to close it all the way and it had swung open a tiny bit, just enough to squeak. No big deal.

I hopped out of bed and shut it, giving the knob a few jiggles to make sure it had shut properly this time. Satisfied, I hopped back into bed and fell fast asleep.

A few hours later, I woke up again. My room was still pitch black, meaning it was still late at night. I didn’t know why I woke up this time, but I felt uneasy, as if I’d just woken up from a nightmare. I instinctively turned to my closet door. I don’t know why, but I threw my blankets off and walked towards it again. My hands shook and my heart pounded as I reached for the doorknob. I gave it a turn.

It was locked. From the inside.


Credits to: Kabber (http://kabber.tumblr.com/)

Sunday, October 26, 2014

Room 733

http://i.ytimg.com/vi/x5xRVv5cLg0/hqdefault.jpg


The Suicide Room. That’s what they called room 733 - as if I didn’t have enough to worry about on my first day as a freshman.

We had assigned to dorm room 734 which, it turns out, wasn’t one of the nice add-on rooms in the south hall. No, we found ourselves in the older wing of the building on the 7th floor. I wasn’t too bummed out, though; at least they’d honored my request to room with my best friend.

Lydia and I spent most of the morning moving ourselves in. By the time our Resident Advisor came by I was taping up posters and Lydia was reading.

“Hi girls, I’m Beth!” chirped the bubbly blonde girl as she bounded into our room. “I’ll be your RA this year.”

“Hi,” I nodded at her.

“Wow, you girls really work fast,” she said taking in our made beds and hung up clothes.

Beth picked up a drawing of Cthulhu that Lydia had done over the summer. She turned it sideways, studying it.

"Is this the kraken from Pirates of the Caribbean?”

Lydia glared at her over the top of her book.

“So anyway,” the RA continued, “I know our hall isn’t as new as the south hall but trust me, there’s a lot of history here. This building is almost 60 years old.”

“Yes, I can see that.” I said looking around. “The rooms are pretty small.”

“Well, people were smaller in the 50s.” Beth shrugged.

“Really.” Lydia said flatly.

“Yep, really.” Beth pursed her lips and just continued to stand there, while the room filled with awkward silence.

“So,” I said, “the corner room next to us - 733, is it? It looks a lot bigger than our room. Is anyone assigned to that room or could we maybe-”

“Oh, you don’t want that room.” Beth interrupted. "There were a couple suicides in there. A hanging and a jumper if I remember right. They’re not assigning anyone to that room. Anyway, I’d just like to remind you that this is an all girls floor and guys are not allowed up here after 11.”

Before we could reply to her Beth clapped her hands and with a quick “well, nice meeting you” she skipped out of the room.

Lydia dropped her book on the bed and stared out into the hall. “I hate her.”

“Did you hear that bomb she fucking dropped?”

“I’m going to call her Dumbshit Beth.”

“Lydia, seriously. Suicides?”

“Oh, Becca, relax. Every college campus has a few suicides.”

“Yeah, but in the same room?”

Lydia sighed. “Really, who cares? It’s the room next door.”

“Yeah, I guess.” I turned to study the little window in our room. “Can you imagine climbing out of that tiny window and jumping? You’d be alive for at least five seconds before you hit the ground.”

“Oh, fuck, Becca, can you not?” Lydia glanced at the window and visibly shuddered. “You know I fucking hate heights and just talking about that shit is raising my blood pressure.”

“We could always move into the suicide room,” I teased her, “That one has a window on each wall.”

“Fuck you.”

“Okay, okay. But seriously, think about it. It would take a lot of commitment to squeeze out of that tiny window.”

“Yeah, well, remember, people were apparently smaller back then.” Lydia mumbled as she pushed her bed further away from the window.

Since Lydia was an outgoing and friendly person, we made friends at lightning speed. There were a lot of parties in those first few weeks, at one of which Lydia inevitably met a guy. I’d known the girl since we were in diapers so I fully anticipated her having a boyfriend by the end of September. His name was Mike and he wasn’t anything special; just your standard frat pledge douche canoe.

After about a month on campus the novelty of college started wearing off. Lydia and I found our stride and we spent more weekends studying than drinking. Midterms were coming up in a couple weeks and I was determined to maintain a 4.0 GPA throughout my freshman year.

One night in early October I was woke up by a loud, grinding sound. I sat up in bed and strained to hear it again. Lydia was also wide awake and listening.

SLAM

What the fuck? She mouthed to me.

It wasn’t unusual for there to be noise in the hallways since other people came in at all hours of the night. But this sound had definitely come from next door - the corner room.

GRIND

“Is that-”

“Yeah,” Lydia whispered. “That’s the window next door.”

At Lydia’s insistence, we kept our window closed at all times. However, there was no mistaking the sound of the window in room 733 being opened and closed again at regular intervals.

SLAM

“Who’s in there?”

Lydia shrugged.

“Is someone fucking with us? Is this like initiation?”

Lydia raised her eyebrow at me. “Initiation to what?”

“I don’t know. College? Maybe they’re hazing the freshman?”

GRIND (it opened)

“Who is hazing freshman?”

I shrugged.

SLAM (it shut)

“Becca, I love you, but that was fucking stupid.”

I threw a pillow at her. “Well, whoever it is, go tell them to knock it the fuck off.”

“Me?! I’m not risking being thrown out a window.”

GRIND

“Well, I’m not doing it!”

“I’m an art major. You’re a political science major. YOU go lay down the law.”

“Fuck that.”

“Then call Dumbshit Beth. Isn’t this the kind of nonsense she should deal with?”

SLAM

“I’m not calling her. Don’t you put that evil on me”

“Fine,” Lydia whispered loudly, “then we’ll just have to ignore it.”

“I have class at 7:30!” I whispered.

GRIND

“Then do something!”

“Ugh!” I got out of bed and stomped to the door, threw it open dramatically and went down the hall to pound on the door to room 733 which simply said ‘Supply Room’.

“People are trying to sleep, please fucking stop.” I said when there was no answer.

SLAM

“Dude, seriously…” I sighed.

I stepped back from the door and immediately noticed problem. Room 733 was padlocked shut from the outside. I hurried back to my room.

“What happened?” Lydia asked.

“I’m not going anywhere near that fucking room, again. It’s locked from the outside; I don’t know how anybody could get in there.”

“So, you’re saying it’s a spooky ghost?” She laughed.

“No, I’m saying there is creepy shit going on inside a room colloquially called ‘the Suicide Room’.”

Lydia scoffed and rolled over to go back to sleep. "You should have been a drama major.”

We didn’t hear the window next door again that night but the next morning you could clearly see from outside that both windows in the corner room were now wide open.

I watched the windows on room 733 for an entire week but they remained open. Occasionally at night I thought I could hear a noise next door liked marbles dropping and rolling across the floor. Since it never woke Lydia up, I didn’t bother to say anything.

One afternoon I was alone in the dorm editing notes on my laptop. I had my headphones in but the music wasn’t loud enough to cover the noise of someone knocking on the door.

“Come in,” I said without looking up from the screen.

A moment went by and then heard I heard the knocking again. I jerked my earbuds out and slammed the laptop closed.

I turned around, “Come-”

What the fuck? The door to the hallway was wide open. I’d left it open on purpose since Ian (a junior I was dating) was supposed to be stopping by. I heard the knocking again from behind me and literally jumped out of my chair.

It had come from the other side of the room – the closet door. It was the closet that shared a wall with room 733.

“Lydia, you’re not fucking funny.”

Nothing.

“Lydia, I swear to god, I will punch you in your face.”

Silence. I walked over to the closet door and grasped the handle.

“Lydia, you’re a fucking-”

“A fucking what?”

Her voice came from the doorway – behind me. I let go of the doorknob and stumbled back, wide-eyed. Lydia threw her stuff on the bed and turned to me, crossing her arms.

“I’m a fucking what?”

“I…thought you were hiding in the closet.“ I said, lamely.

"What? Why?”

“Because someone was knocking on the door.”

“Jesus, Becca.” Lydia rubbed her forehead and walked over to the closet, throwing open the door. There was nothing there but clothes and boxes. She made a swipe of her arm as if to say: ‘what now?’

“I swear-”

“Becca, there’s no one here.”

“I know what I heard.”

We glared at each other until our little stand off was interrupted by the timely arrival of Ian.

He immediately sensed the tension in the room. “Hi, ladies… What’s new?”

I gave my roommate a hostile look. “There’s strange shit is going on in that room next door. But that’s not new.”

'Which room? 735? Or the empty one?“

"The empty one.” Lydia emphasized.

“733. Yeah, I’m not surprised. That’s the suicide room.“

"Right, we heard about the deaths.” I sat down on my bed.

“Yeah, it’s pretty fucked up. Three suicides all in one dorm room.”

“Three?” Lydia raised her eyebrow. “We were told there were two.”

“Well there were a couple people in the 70s and then some guy about ten years ago. He jumped out the window.”

Lydia and I both shuddered. Although she was much worse, we were both terrified of heights. A falling death was about the worst thing I could think of.

"I will admit that three suicides in the same dorm room is fucking disturbing.” Lydia said in an apologetic tone.

"Yeah, I heard there’s something in that room.” Ian said.

“Like what?”

“No one knows, but every year someone has a new theory, usually right around Halloween something gets published in the campus paper. Whatever is in there, though, it ain’t friendly.”

“So, has anyone ever killed themselves in the neighboring rooms? Like this one?”

“Nah, just 733. Honestly, I was surprised when I heard they were opening the north hall this year.”

“They told us we were the biggest incoming freshman class in twenty years.” I said absentmindedly.

“Yeah, I heard that, too. You know you could request a room change.” Ian sat down on the bed next to me and I leaned against his shoulder.

“Yeah, but they wouldn’t keep us together.” Lydia cut in. “Becca and I have been best friends for 15 years. We can’t room with other people.”

“So should we just keep living here, next to Satan?” I glanced at the closet door again.

Lydia shrugged. “At least we’ll have some stories to tell after graduation.”

“These aren’t the kind of stories I want to tell.”

A few days later Lydia began to believe my closet story. I woke up in the middle of the night to the sound of someone whispering. I looked over at Lydia, who was already staring at me with wide eyes. She slowly brought a finger to her lips.

I listened intently, trying to hear what the voice was saying and where it was coming from but I couldn’t understand even one word. I got out of my bed and tiptoed over to Lydia’s. The whispering was definitely louder over there, but then she shared a wall with room 733. I listened harder.

…never…taken…mouths…of fools…

What the hell? Lydia leaned over and put her ear up to the wall. The whispers suddenly stopped and I leaned closer. Suddenly there was a loud bang from the other side. Lydia immediately recoiled and clutched her ear in pain.

Someone was in there. Suddenly more angry than scared I again threw open our door and stomped over to the supposedly empty supply room. I banged on the door loudly not caring who else I woke up at this point.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” I yelled at the door. “This shit isn’t funny anymore. Come out of that fucking room, you asshole.”

Silence. And then the doorknob started to turn.

I don’t know what I’d expected to happen but it wasn’t that. I backed up so far from the door that I ran into the opposite wall. When the handle had turned all the way down, something started to push from the other side. The door groaned loudly but the locks held.

I held my breath until the pressure on the door subsided and the handle slowly returned to its normal position.

I noticed Lydia peaking her head out of our room. She held up her hands as if to say what happened?

“Someone thinks they’re funny.” I answered her out loud. She shook her head and disappeared back into our room.

I knelt down on the floor and brought my head down to the carpet, peering under the door crack. It was the first time I had seen into the corner room.

Room 733 was definitely a supply closet. There were chairs stacked along one wall and bed frames along the other. A few rotting mattresses were piled under one of the windows and a thick layer of dust covered everything in the room. The windows were absolutely huge, which was something you couldn’t really tell by looking up at the building. There were open as always and I could definitely see how someone could easily climb through them to the outside ledge.

The room didn’t look like it had been disturbed in a couple of decades which sent a shudder wracking through my body.

The moonlight, which had been providing enough light to see into the room, suddenly vanished and I saw only pitch black inside. I blinked rapidly trying to adjust my night vision. I squeezed my eyes shut and when I opened them, a large yellow eye was looking back at me, only a few inches away from my face on the other side of the door.

I screamed and woke up half the dorm.

There was no denying that things were escalating. The next morning Lydia and I put in dorm change requests with Resident Services and hoped for the best. In the meantime, we agreed to never be alone in our dorm room at night. Either we both spent the night at home or neither of us did. We started spending most nights with our respective boyfriends.

I told Ian everything that had happened and he suggested I maybe talk to the campus Paranormal Society. I hesitantly made an appointment and Lydia and I met with a small, cleanly dressed kid named Craig and four of his “colleagues” the following Tuesday.

We told them everything we could remember, every incident, no matter how small. Craig and the four other members of the Paranormal Society sat quietly and took notes for half an hour. It wasn’t until we finished that anyone spoke.

"Is that all?” Craig asked.

“Yes…” I said slowly.

“Would you mind waiting out in the hall for a few minutes so that I may confer with my colleagues?”

“Sure,” Lydia smiled indulgently and stood up. “Whatever you need.”

The door had barely shut behind us when Lydia snorted and rolled her eyes. “Let’s go.”

“Go where?” I asked.

“Are you serious?”

“Lydia, come on, we need help, I am freaking out. We haven’t stayed one night in our dorm since Thursday so this isn’t something we can just brush off.”

“Okay.” She threw her hands up. “Let’s hear what they have to say and then we can go over to Resident Services and check on our move requests.”

We loitered out in the hallway for another 15 minutes before Craig came out and asked up to come back and take a seat.

With all the pomp and circumstance of a meeting of parliament, Craig cleared his throat and made his diagnosis.

“What you’re dealing with, ladies, is a very angry ghost.”

“Is that your professional opinion, Craig?” Lydia said. I shot her a look.

“Y-yes,” he stuttered. “A vengeful spirit-“

“A spirit?” I asked. I very much doubted that that’s what we were dealing with.

“Yes,” answered one of the not-Craigs. “That’s ghost to the layperson.”

“Jesus Christ,” Lydia groaned and rubbed her temples.

Mistaking Lydia’s frustration with despair, Craig rushed right into his speech.

“Don’t be afraid, ladies, we’re going to take care of you. It’s true that spirits can be quite a headache if you don’t know how to exorcize them which is why it’s good you came to us. Suicides almost always result in angry ghosts, they need revenge.”

"Revenge on whom?” I asked.

“On other students. Perhaps this particular spirit was bullied into taking his own life and now seeks to torment others.”

“Ah, listen-“

"We can take care of this for you right away, all we ask is a small donation to the society,” Craig continued. “We honestly didn’t realize that room was having this much activity. It’s really very exciting.”

“Great, well, thank you for your time,” Lydia said as she grabbed my hand and pulled me out of my chair.

“Do you want to set something up for this weekend?” Craig asked.

“Tell you what, we’ll call you.”

Lydia hurried me out of the room wearing a weary look and we didn’t speak again until we were almost to the Admin building.

“That was a waste of time.” She said.

“Look, I’m not disagreeing with you, but-”

“Becca, tell me you didn’t honestly buy into that?”

“So you don’t think it’s a…a…” I was having trouble even saying the word, it sounded so ridiculous. “…ghost?”

“Well, I don’t fucking know, but neither do they. That guy had no idea what the fuck he was talking about.”

I pulled my hood lower over my eyes as we stepped into line at the Resident Services desk.

“Let me put it this way.” Lydia continued. “They’re playing Ghostbusters and we’re* living* the fucking Exorcist.”

“Fine,” I sighed. “Then what do you want to do? Just keep sleeping at Mike and Ian’s until we get reassigned?”

“I just want this to end.” Lydia crossed her arms and stared straight ahead. We all wanted this to end. Even if living next to that fucking room wasn’t scary it was sure as hell distracting.

“Alright, well, I mean we’re probably safe during daylight hours so as long as we don’t spend nights there we should be okay. Our room is only ghost adjacent after all, and our new assignments will come through soon.” I checked my watch. “Fuck it’s almost 2.”

“Shit, really? I gotta go. Mike got accepted to Sigma Chi and he’s getting initiated today.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot he rushed.”

The girl at the desk waved us forward. I hadn’t even realized we’d reached the front of the line.

“Let me know what they say,” Lydia said as she ran out the door.

The girl at the desk eyed me suspiciously as I approached.

“Hi, I’m-“

“You’re the girl trying to move out of 734 in Reilly, aren’t you?”

She’d caught me off guard. “Yeah, one of them. How’d you know?”

“Sorry, I overheard you. I also saw your file cross my desk a few days ago and I gotta ask: why are you looking to transfer rooms, exactly?”

I was tired. I was beaten down. I didn’t have the energy to think of a lie.

“Because shit is going on in the empty room next door and it’s really freaking us out. Noises, whispers, knocking, the other night I saw someone…”

“You saw someone?”

“Yeah.”

“In room 733?”

“Yeah. I looked under the door. There was definitely someone in there.”

The girl narrowed her eyes at me for a moment and then nodded for no particular reason.

“Well, your rooms aren’t ready yet but I’ve pushed them through as a priority. For right now you’re stuck, though. There just isn’t anywhere else to put you.”

I sighed. I’d figured as much.

“I’m Alice,” she continued, “and, look, I’ve actually done a lot of research on the Reilly suicides and I think I can help you. Or at the very least offer some insight.”

“Really?” I asked, hesitantly.

“Absolutely. I’m in Taylor Hall, room 310. I’ll be back to my dorm by 4 today.“

"Thanks. We just came from the Paranormal Society on campus. “

“Ugh, say no more,” Alice rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, so…I’ll definitely see you at 4.”

“Great,” Alice said, and smiled.

I was early to Taylor, but then so was she. I told our story for the second time that day and Alice wasn’t afraid to interrupt with questions, though her queries didn’t betray her thoughts.

When I was finished she leaned back in her chair and sighed deeply.

"I can’t believe it,” she shook her head. “I’d always heard rumors but I honestly doubted any of it was true.”

“I can assure you – everything I’ve told you is absolutely true.”

“And how is it now? When you’re there?”

“We aren’t ever there at night but during the day we’ve heard scratching on the wall, really quiet whispering and sometimes we still hear the window opening and closing. In broad fucking daylight. However every time I look up from the street the windows to 733 are open.”

Alice nodded. “Well, for the record I don’t think you’re in any danger. As much as it sucks, you guys are simply a casualty. You just need to stay out of room 733.”

I snorted. “Are you kidding? I would never go in there.”

"I believe that you believe that. But this thing, whatever it is, it’s tricky. Manipulative. A liar. And it’s smarter than you.”

“I’ll try not to be offended by that.”

“You shouldn’t be.”

“What do you think it is?”

“Something very old and very evil.”

I regarded her skeptically and then let my eyes wander around the room. I hadn’t really noticed the décor before but to say Alice had an interest in the occult was an understatement.

“I can’t see any situation where I would be compelled to enter that room.”

“I know. But you have to be prepared that there may come a time when you have to make a decision about entering that room. Because what you’re dealing with? It’s already killed five people.”

"Five?! I thought it was three!”

“Yeah, well, not everyone is inclined to do the level of research that I do. Let’s see, there was Ellen Burnham in 1961 – she jumped out the window. She was the very first. And then Tad Collinsworth in 1968 - he jumped, too. Marissa Grigg in 1975, she hung herself. Erin Murphy in 1979 - she jumped. And then Erik Dousten in 1992 - he hung himself.”

“Five suicides. How could the university still let people live in there?”

"They don’t, apparently. That’s why it’s a supply room.”

“And back then?”

“Well, every few years, once everyone who would remember had graduated, the room would be reassigned. This was before the internet, you know, and the incoming freshman were clueless. But after that last one - Erik Dousten - they closed the entire north hall of the 7th floor and built more rooms onto the south hall.”

“So, what does it want?”

Alice shrugged. “Chaos. Death. Souls. Who knows? No one even knows what it is.”

“Okay, so what do we know?”

“We know that it’s somehow bound to that room though it seems to have minimal influence just outside of it. We know that everyone who ever died was alone at the time. And we know that it’s a trickster. That’s what we know.”

It wasn’t enough. “Why do you think they do it?” I asked quietly.

“The victims?”

I nodded.

“All I know is what’s rumored to be in the evidence files. All the suicides were found with pictures or writings that were considered ‘unspeakable’ at the time. They contained horrible, evil things that would make you physically sick to read or see, they say.”

“And these people, they drew them? They wrote that stuff?”

“Yep. Whatever is in that room drove them mad.”

“That’s fucking terrifying.”

“Have you guys considered getting somebody to bless the room?“

"Jesus.”

“Well you’ll have a hard time getting him but perhaps some other sort of holy person.”

“No, I mean, Jesus, you’re talking about an exorcism.”

Alice shrugged. “Maybe. The rumor in the 70s was that this all started with a Ouija board game gone wrong in 1961.”

“Really? That shit’s made by Hasbro.”

“Not in the 60s it wasn’t. Anyway, it’s just a rumor. The only person on campus who would know is Tom Moen in Admin. I’ve tried to talk to him before but he refuses to see me.”

“Did he go here in 1961?”

“Yes. And he was staying in Reilly.”

“We need to talk to him. I need to know what the fuck is happening or I won’t be able to live the rest of my life as a well adjusted person.”

“I suppose we can try to chase him down on campus.”

“Can we talk to him tomorrow?“

"We can try.”

Mr. Moen wouldn’t see us that day or the next. We tried to catch him on his lunch hour and then again while he was leaving work but he got around us every time. It was soon clear that the old man was actively avoiding us.

Lydia and I had seen little of each other since we’d continued to sleep in other dorms. I went back to our room twice a day - once in the morning and once in the afternoon. Usually the other room was silent but that didn’t make me feel better. I could always sense something on the other side of the wall, somehow watching me. It felt like the calm before the storm.

The Thursday before Halloween I came back to the dorm to shower in the evening, much later than usual. I‘d seen Lydia that afternoon and she’d informed me that she had enough clothes stored at Mike’s to last until graduation so I knew I’d be there alone.

I showered down the hall in the safety of the bathrooms and then walked back to my room to change. I was supposed to meet Ian in half an hour to head out to a party and I wanted to get out of here as quick as possible.

Since the silence was unnerving me, I threw my iPod on the docking station and turned up AC/DC.

I got dressed and then stood in front of the mirror to dry my hair. I flipped my head over and blow dried upside down to try and give my hair some volume. When I flipped my head back up and shut off the blow-dryer I immediately noticed the silence in the room. But that wasn’t all I noticed.

I wasn’t in my dorm anymore. Behind me was reflected the dusty bedframes and large open windows of room 733. I spun around in a panic to find that I was actually standing in my own room. I looked back at the mirror to see that 733 still reflected there. A slight movement behind me was all it took to make me run.

I grabbed my purse and phone and I fled from my room slamming the door behind me. On the elevator ride down I called Alice.

"I can’t do it anymore,” I said when she picked up. “I can’t go back in that room, again. I can’t ever go back.”

“What happened?”

I told her.

"Jesus. What do you want to do?” She asked.

“I need to talk to someone who knows what the fuck is going on. Is Tom Moen the only person we know was here in 1961?”

“The only one I know of. Maybe we can get him on his way in tomorrow morning? We’ll just corner him and refuse to move until he tells us something. He comes in at 6:30 according to the schedule I have. Do you want to meet me outside the Starbucks in the Atrium?”

“Fuck yeah I do. I have a class at 7:30 but I’ll blow it off.”

“Okay. See you then.“

I wasn’t usually much for parties but I was glad I was going to one that night. As soon as we got there I asked Ian to get me a drink. Since I wasn’t usually much of a drinker he gave me a raised eyebrow. I gave him a brief synopsis of what had happened earlier, hoping he wouldn’t think I was crazy.

Ian made me a scotch and coke. It was the first of many.

Around midnight I went to have a cigarette and checked my phone. I had a voicemail from Lydia left at 11:04pm.

"Hey Becca, listen I just, ugh, I just had a huge fucking fight with Mike. He, well, I guess his frat decided that for Halloween this year all the new brothers have to spend the night in the Suicide Room. In our dorm. I just, I can’t fucking take it. He knows what’s been going on with us and he still agreed to do this. He’s now trying to convince me that Sigma Chi is behind all of the stuff going on in room 733 because they’ve been trying to drum up buzz for their Halloween deal. I can’t-”

I hit end and threw my phone in my bag. No wonder Lydia was pissed. This was not good. Not good at all.
I found Ian inside and asked him to take me home. I was suddenly very stressed, very tired and very drunk.

When the alarm went off at 6am, it took everything I had to pull myself out of bed. I got dressed in the clothes I’d worn the night before and shuffled my way across campus to the Atrium.

Alice was already there with a black coffee in hand.

“I figured you’d need this,” she laughed.

“How’d you know?”

“Your texts.”

“I texted you last night?”

“Yeah, at about 1. You told me about Sigma Chi.”

"Oh, god, yeah.” I pushed my sunglasses higher up my nose and pulled my hood lower over my eyes.

“Those guys are idiots. Remember how I told you that it’s crafty? Well what if the point of messing with you was to make 733 provocative, you know, to seduce people into going inside. No one has been in that room for years, can you imagine how hungry that thing is?”

"Do you think they’re really at risk?” I asked as I sat down on the steps to the Admin building.

“Yeah. In fact the only thing they have going for them is that all those suicide victims were alone at the time of their deaths.”

“So, it’ll be less powerful with all of them there?”

“Theoretically. We would know a lot more if we knew what it was. And we can’t know what it is without knowing how it got here. And that is why we need Moen.”

“What time is he supposed to get here?”

“Actually, twenty minutes ago,” Alice said, grimly.

It was another half an hour before we resigned ourselves to the fact that Mr. Moen had snuck around us as usual. We went to the front office hoping to beg again for an appointment with him anyway.

The woman at the Admin desk regarded us coldly.

“Tom isn’t coming in today. Or any other day for that matter. He quit yesterday. Looks like you won’t be harassing him anymore.“

"We weren’t harassing him,” I said. “We just desperately needed to talk to him.”

“We still do.” Added Alice.

“Well you won’t get any of his personal information from me,” she said snidely and walked away.

“What the fuck do we do now?” I asked Alice.

“Without Tom Moen there’s nothing left to do.”

“Alice, fuck, I can’t go back into that room.

"Well, then I guess it’s good your transfers came through.”

“They did?!”

“Yep. I got the notice when I checked my work email this morning. You’re going to Morton and Lydia is going to Tinsley.”

“Oh thank god.”

“I thought you’d be happy about that. I also convinced my boss not to assign anyone else to room 734.”

"Thank fuck.”

“The only thing is you won’t be able to move until Monday.“

"I can last through the weekend, especially now that the end is in sight. I have to tell Lydia.”

I opened my phone to pull up Lydia’s number but my attention was caught by the red ‘1’ badge over the voicemail logo. I hit play. It was the rest of the message from last night.

“-even look at his dumb fucking face anymore so I’m going to head home. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be okay. I’m drunk enough to sleep through any bullshit from next door. I’m just so fucking pissed off right now. I would honestly rather deal with Dumbshit Beth than Michael-My-Parents-Must-Be-Siblings-Because- I’m-That-Fucking-Retarded-Benson. Let’s hang out tomorrow. Love ya!”

The message ended.

“Goddamn it.”

Alice gave me a questioning look.

“Lydia spent the night in our dorm.”

Alice cringed.

“She’s safe though, right?”

“As long as she doesn’t go into 733.”

“She wont.” I thought of the always open large windows of the corner room. If nothing else the mere thought of those would keep Lydia the hell out of that room.

"Good. Well, since we have nothing else to do, do you want to go look for theology books in the library? It’s pretty much the only thing open right now. ”

“Sure,“ I shrugged. I didn’t have another class until 10.

The little old lady who sat behind the library’s checkout desk must have been 1,000 years old. Ms. Stapley’s eyes were small and watery and her skin looked like it was melting off of her skull. Still, she was nice and knowledgeable and she sent us in the right direction for books on demonology, though she gave us a curious look as she did.

There wasn’t much. We read everything we could but it either wasn’t relevant or wasn’t in English. We returned to her desk 30 minutes later.

"Ah, do you have anything on the occult?”

“The occult? Ah…” Her voice trailed off. “Yes, I do. Over there to the left of the reference section.”

"Ok thanks. Sorry, I‘m too hung-over to use the Dewey decimal system,” I said.

“I don’t think she likes the look of us,” Alice whispered as we walked away.

“Our look or our subject matter?”

“Probably neither.”

Within the hour we were back up at her desk having struck out again. We could tell she was getting annoyed as her eyes narrowed suspiciously at us as we approached.

“Ah, sorry, do you know where we could find something on séances or Ouija boards or-”

“Now listen, girls.” Ms. Stapley stood up from her desk and looked over her glasses at us. “I really hope this is for class.”

“It is,” I said.

“It’s not,” Alice answered simultaneously. “It’s personal research.”

"Research? What kind of research?”

“Look, we’re not going to mess with a Ouija board or anything…” I said.

“Good,” Ms. Stapley smoothed her pleated pants and sat back down. “Because I can’t have that sort of thing going on here again.”

Again?” Alice latched on.

The older woman suddenly looked very uncomfortable and started fidgeting with a stack of books on her desk.

“We may have something on séances in-“

“Ms. Stapley, we’re researching what happened in Reilly in 1961.” Alice interrupted.

“And also what’s been happening there ever since.”

"Well,” Ms. Stapley sat down. “It’s no secret, is it? A student committed suicide in that room. Dreadful but not unheard of on a university campus.”

"Five students.” I corrected her.

“But you know that, right?” Alice was suddenly talking very fast. “Because you sound like you’re well versed in this story. Please, tell us how this started and we might be able to end it.”

“End it?” Ms. Stapley’s voice became quieter but more concentrated. “Don’t be so arrogant, young lady. You can’t end it. People have always died in that room and they always will. There is no end to it so you’d best stay far away from it.”

“But maybe if we knew how this all started -”

“It started just as you think it did. But everyone that was involved is either very old or very dead by now. Just stay away from that room. Concentrate on your studies.”

I leaned over her desk. “Well, I’d love to but they assigned my friend and me to the room next door. Maybe you can forget about all the suicides but we can’t. It wont fucking let us.”

“Young lady, I never forget.” Ms. Stapely voice was even quieter now. “My friend Ellen was the very first to be killed in that room. She was my very best friend and not a night goes by that I don’t imagine her wiggling out of that tiny window, standing upon the cold ledge in her bare feet and jumping off the 7th floor of that building.”

Alice sighed. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t know.”

“Yes, well these are old wounds, my dear. Now girls, I suggest you request a room reassignment immediately. No one should be living on the seventh floor of that building. And that’s all I’m going to tell you about it. “

Alice sighed but resigned herself to a nod. We wouldn’t learn anything more here. Still, it was quite a breakthrough - at least we had some information now.

Alice walked away and I made to follow her but my feet wouldn’t move. Something was bothering me - a small yet poignant word had been buried in Ms. Stapley’s story; a word that suddenly seemed very important.

"Eh, Ms. Stapley,” I asked the tired, old woman at the desk, “Why did you refer to the windows in 733 tiny? Because I’ve seen those windows and they’re huge, like 5 feet tall.”

"Dear, you’re thinking of the corner room, that’s the supply closet. Room 733 is next door to that.”

“No-no,” I stuttered, “that’s room 734.”

“Yes, well, it is now. When they built the additional rooms on to the south hall they moved all the room numbers down.”

Oh my god. I suddenly felt very hot and very dizzy.

"That sneaky fucker,” Alice whispered next to me, her skin paling.

“Lydia.”

We took off across the campus at a dead run, witnessed only by the few bleary-eyed students on their way to morning classes. When Reilly finally came into view I stumbled on the pavement as my blood turned to ice. From our vantage point we could clearly see the windows of the corner room were closed – the first and only time I had ever seen that way. And the window to my room was open.

We ran into the lobby, pushing past several latte-sipping, ugg boot-wearing freshman who had just gotten off the elevator. I hit 7 and watched the doors close more slowly than they ever had before. I leaned against the wall, trying to steady my breathing.

“Alice, how the fuck did this happen?”

“I don’t know. I don’t fucking know.”

"She’s been in there all night, Alice. In our room. Alone.”

Alice shook her head but had nothing to say.

When the doors finally opened on floor 7, we saw a quiet, deserted hallway. I ran toward my room with Alice right behind me. Rounding the corner, I threw open my door hoping it wasn’t locked. And it t wasn’t.

Lydia looked back at me. And for one breathless moment, cruel glimmer of hope crossed over her tear streaked face.

But it was too late. The next second, she leaned forward so slightly, and she was gone.

She screamed the entire way down.

Alice ran to the ledge where Lydia had just been while I stood motionless. She stuck her head out the window and looked down just as a different kind of screaming started from the bottom floor. Alice closed her hand over her mouth and pulled her head back into the room as tears of shock ran down her ghost- white face.

The screaming from outside got louder as more people saw what remained of my best friend on the cold pavement. I leaned back against the dresser and slumped to the floor. A falling death. Lydia never wanted a falling death.

I absentmindedly picked up one of the pictures that were strewn all over the floor. It was a picture of Lydia’s mother. She was dead. I picked up another picture. It was Lydia’s baby sister. She was dead, too. There were dozens of pictures just like it all over the floor - Lydia has been busy last night. As for the things depicted in them, I cannot tell you. Lydia was a talented artist and I only saw a few before I got sick on the floor next to me.

Alice was standing in the doorway yelling something down the hall. I don’t know what she was saying because all I could hear was a high pitched whine in the room. Suddenly a piece of paper slid out from under the crack in the closet door and glided across the floor toward me. I picked it up and studied it for a moment.

This was drawn by Lydia too, but it wasn’t like the others. It was a picture of the closet from my exact vantage point. In the drawing the door was cracked and there was something looking back from the darkness.

I put the paper down and studied the closet. The door was cracked open just like the picture. I squinted my eyes and tried to see inside. Just as I started to distinguish the defined lines of a long face looking back at me, Alice pulled me to my feet.

"We need to get out of here,” I thought I heard her say.

I never went back into that room. My parents moved my things and I spent the rest of the semester in an apartment off campus. I transferred to an out of state school for my spring semester and finished my degree there.

Every night I dream of Lydia pulling herself through the tiny window, shimmying out onto the cold ledge, standing up and knowing there’s nothing between her body and the terrifying abyss in front of her. I watch her look down seven stories to the black pavement below and realize, though not accept, her terrible fate. I see the blind horror cross her familiar features. I hear her wildly pounding heart, desperately trying to race through every beat of the life she should have lived, and knowing it has only mere seconds.

I watch her look back at me. And I watch her fall.

It’s been 9 years since that night. And every fall semester for 9 years I’ve called Resident Services to see which dorms are open for new student assignments. Reilly is always open. The seventh floor is closed.

This year life and work got in the way and I called much later than usual. I was put on hold immediately.
“Resident Services.” A man finally answered. “Were you the one asking about open rooms in Reilly?”

“Yes, that’s me.”

“We’re entirely filled up and there’s a waiting list for Reilly. But, as it happens, you actually have great timing. I make no promises but we may be able to get you in. We just got approval this morning.”

“Approval for what?” I said slowly

“We’re opening up the seventh floor.”


Credits to: The_Dalek_Emperor

I Talked to God. I Never Want to Speak to Him Again

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