Horror Fiction

Easter Memoria

This story is dedicated to Coach Freeman; she was one of those special teachers who touched the life of every student she taught, and the best damn coach anyone could ask for. Rest In Peace, we love you always. 


The CreepyPasta


My amazingly talented friend, Danie Dreadful, did another phenomenal job narrating this one. If you haven’t subscribed to her yet, make sure you do; there’s going to be a lot more where this came from! Here’s the YouTube link.
Mr. Easter

Easter is always the first Sunday following the full moon after the spring equinox. Sounds a little weird, doesn’t it? This holiday’s origin varies depending on your chosen religion, but that’s not important for what I’m here to talk about. Instead, I’m going to tell you something that used to be common knowledge, but was scrubbed from history due to global mass murders and suicide.

Long ago, Easter was celebrated on the full moon; it’s the only day Easter Memoria can be performed. Yes, memoria – as in Latin for memory; it allows you to remember everything – including past lives – until sunrise. When the night ends, so does the spell; you might remember flashes or a name, but most is forgotten. The concept sounds great at first, but it’s extremely dangerous. It’s not like watching a movie; these memories are as real as what you did yesterday.

When we die, our souls either hang around as a ghost or pass on. Explaining every aspect of both possibilities would fill a book, so we’re going to ignore the complexities of ghost life completely. Passing on also has quite a list of subcategories, but our focus is on when a soul enters a new vessel.

There’s a lot of fear and misconception about being reincarnated as something terrible, but don’t worry; people are people, just like dogs are dogs, and no, that doesn’t mean Hitler is back. The truly evil souls never make it past the Bad Place, but drunk drivers and rage killers… Eventually, they’ll return; it’s an important distinction.

Deep inside – at the core of our souls – lies the essence of who we are, but when our slates are wiped clean through the process of death and rebirth, we’re forced to start fresh with a new family, body, and brain – sometimes gender or race. Every aspect influences who you ultimately become; it’s entirely possible for a serial killer to have been a surgeon in the past or vice-versa.

Another common belief is that our souls stay around the people or places we share a connection with; that one is absolutely true and played a big part in why the ritual was banned. When it comes to our loved ones, we can see beyond their physical appearances and recognize them for who they were in our past. It made for many heartwarming reunions, but it ruined even more lives. Eighty percent of married participants were having affairs; parents who lost a child would kidnap them when they were reborn, and good people were murdered for past mistakes. That’s only a few of the problems, but they were enough to start our Easter Sunday tradition. Of course, that was only the beginning; it took centuries and countless of executions to get where we are today.

Now, let’s switch gears and think about what it’s actually like to remember all those past lives. Aside from inducing a terrible headache, most people agreed the good memories weren’t worth the trauma endured afterwards. The mind still suffered extreme emotional damage, and nothing can change that. For example, if someone were shot in a previous life, they might suffer crippling panic attacks around guns even if they aren’t consciously aware of the reason.

With the points made so far, you might wonder why people would still do it or how they made use of the knowledge. That part is simple; if you have a private place and way to take notes – you’re all set. Thousands of years ago, there was a decent chance one might remember burying a fortune or any number of useful secrets. With today’s ability to record and travel – the possibilities are limitless. You can probably see where this is going… I did it last year. Thanks to the cameras, I learned more than I bargained for, but I’d like to take you through a summary of what I learned; it will help me organize my thoughts while deciding my next steps.


The Ritual Room

Some people might be curious about how it was done so I’ll start with that, but it’s nothing complicated. First on the list was finding a quiet, indoor location without mirrors. I used our family’s cabin in the woods and drove out three days in advance.

The room can only be illuminated with yellow candles; no other light source is allowed. The number doesn’t matter, but I didn’t relish the thought of sitting in the dark. There was enough to worry about without adding a possible house-fire, so while I did fill the basement with tiny flames – it was done in the safest possible way. Anything with a screen – such as phones or laptops – will effectively taint the ritual, so I used security cameras and put tape over the red lights.

Next, I placed several bowls of rosemary around the room and scattered the rest of my supply onto the floor; traditionally it’s used for multiple reasons, but here it’s to open the mind to lost memories.

Then it was time to fill the room with sentimental possessions. Our basic tastes don’t change much regardless of lifestyle; this can include anything from the foods we eat to the entertainment we prefer. Have you ever seen an old movie or book and felt a connection; almost like you were meant to know it? That’s the sheer bliss of rediscovering a previous love. This step relies mostly on instinct, but it’s easier after the first year since you’ll know what to bring for future rituals. A few examples of my items include a copy of Homer’s Odyssey, pictures of loved ones, and a poster of Van Gough’s Starry Night.

The final step is a doozy; Peyote (pay-oh-tee) is a cactus with a fascinating history, but due to possible mind-altering side-effects, I’m not comfortable detailing step-by-step instructions for this part. If you want to know more, it’s very easy to Google.

Once a comfortable nest was built in the center of my most treasured possessions, there was nothing more to do except have a good night’s rest. The following morning, I ate well, took it easy, and began lighting candles around 4:30; an hour later the full moon was already showing itself. After consuming the recommended Peyote dosage for my size, the meditations began, and it was off to the races.


Prime Memoria

It’s extremely important for the mind to be relaxed; any stress or anxiety will delay the process from starting, but once it does start there’s no stopping it. It’s difficult to describe what it was like, so bear with me. It’s not like opening a floodgate; it happens gradually – starting with the most recent life, then the one before and so on until sun-up. No one has ever been known to reach the end – er… beginning – but that’s probably for the best. The headaches are barely tolerable after a single night; any longer could be deadly. Plus, where exactly would it end? Were we all dinosaurs at one point? I honestly don’t want to know.

Anyway, in the beginning there was only a slight pressure in my skull and it was easy to call out what I saw as memories of being a little girl in the 50’s surfaced. A sense of dread formed while realizing there was hardly thirty years between that date and my birthday, but then I was distracted by moving into a new home at age six. The concern for dying young was nothing compared to the absolute horror that washed over me at remembering that house. The following is everything I know about my tragically short life as a girl named Bethany.

From the moment I saw my pink and white nightmare of a bedroom, something about it made me queasy. It and my parents’ rooms were on the opposite sides of the home, and they never heard me cry. For the first few weeks, I had terrible dreams but couldn’t remember them after waking. My bed was placed in a corner, and the only way I could fall asleep was by pressing my back against the wall. That way, I could make sure the closet stayed shut, no spindly fingers crept from beneath my bed, and no shadows stood outside the window. It wasn’t ideal, but it worked until the nightmares suddenly evolved.

One night – as I was finally drifting off – fingers began lightly caressing my back in the same way Mom sometimes would. In my half-dreamy state, it took a moment to register how wrong the situation was. There was no room for anyone to be between the bed and wall; plus, the fingernails were too pointy. They would break skin at the slightest encouragement, and I knew that’s exactly what they would do if I moved or spoke.

I could only lay there frozen in horror as the nails slowly dragged across my skin, and I shivered beneath them. Hours passed, and my tiny bladder emptied, but I still couldn’t move; it was like being a helpless spectator in my own body. Finally, when the first rays of sunlight beamed through the curtains – a single finger ran through my hair and whispered, “we meet again” before departing.

My initial instinct was to run away, but I imagined a hand reaching from beneath the bed just as my feet touched the floor; it would grab my ankle and pull me under – that was a fact. Dad found me in urine soaked sheets a few hours later and got me cleaned up, but he didn’t believe my story. Later that night, I begged to sleep somewhere else, but the best I got was Mom’s offer to sit with me as I fell asleep. Nothing happened while she was there, and I quickly passed out from pure exhaustion.

It was several hours later when I woke to sharp fingernails trailing down my back, and once again I was completely paralyzed. Hot tears spilled over my cheeks and onto the pillow, but I couldn’t wipe them away. We stayed like that all night until those slim rays of sunshine finally banished the monster. I felt its cold breath in my ear when it teased, “see you tonight,” and – as if a switch were flipped – the tears began in earnest. My body convulsed under the forceful sobs, and I struggled for every breath.

I was still crying when Mom came in hours later; once again, I told my story, and although they didn’t believe it – they were convinced I did. That night, I slept on the couch, and nothing happened; it became my routine for several weeks until Dad decided enough was enough. The back scratching resumed that very night, and this time it was accompanied by the stench of spoiled meat. When the glorious dawn finally came, the fingernails dug into my skin like hooks, and a gruff, menacing voice spat, “you can’t avoid me” before disappearing.

I cried harder than ever before, and later found five red punctures in my skin. The experience bred a healthy resentment towards my parents; I understood only that someone was hurting me, and they didn’t make it stop.

Here, I quit talking to the cameras and simply lived in the moment – forgetting my present life and purpose. I had prepared for assaults and murders – not ghost and demons; I wanted to get off the ride but it was stuck upside down, and there was no surviving the fall. In real life, I was hugging my knees, rocking and whimpering; there was no talking until I – Bethany – was eighteen and getting the fuck out of that house.

For a time, I managed to escape my nightly tormentor by moving. It took three months for the bitch to find me, and I got five deep cuts trailing between my shoulder blades as a greeting; they were next to the five triangular scars from my first transgression. There was a strip of unmarked skin on the right that would look even worse next time…

It was obvious she wasn’t attached to the house – only to me – and life was hard in general. After years of slowly losing my mind, college wasn’t really an option. A woman’s best-case-scenario was to marry a good husband and hope for sons. As if things weren’t bad enough, I had zero interest in men; being a lesbian in the (now) 70’s wasn’t a viable option – especially not in the south. For the first few years, I lived in an apartment, but each time a roommate moved out, the witch grew bolder during our alone-time.

A few months before turning 25, I hopped on one of those hippy buses traveling across the country; it didn’t matter where I was as long as people were nearby, and I wasn’t sober. Most of the time, we didn’t even know what state we were in, and we only paid for three things – drugs, gas, and sometimes food. When we were sick of being on the road we camped in the woods until supplies ran low. People were always coming and going, but there were a few like myself who stuck around. It wasn’t a bad way to live except for the fear of being found… and the overwhelming need to know “why me?”

After two years on the road, I hardly thought of the witch anymore – drugs worked miracles in that regard. Staying in one location longer than two weeks made me nervous, but those times were exceedingly rare. The day she found me, my guard was completely down. I never gave a second thought to the states we would cross on the way to Florida, but somewhere in the middle of Georgia – probably near my hometown – I fell asleep.

It started as a dream; I was very young, and lying next to Mom as she gently rubbed my back. Soon, my eyes began to droop, and she hummed a soft melody while her fingernails grazed my skin under her firm caress. I was drifting away completely when the hand stopped, and my world exploded. Time slowed as claws tore through my back and into my ribcage. Somehow, the witch’s voice found a path through the fog of agony and into my ear; “found you!” She cooed as her claws ripped downward, and blood filled my throat; her cold, putrid breath was the same as before.

Suddenly, my eyes opened wide with shock, and my senses were flooded with chaos; my head throbbed from the screams of those around me and approaching sirens. The brief instant my vision cleared, I saw the twisted remains of our bus and had just enough time to wonder… Did the witch cause the crash or merely take advantage of it? Knowing what I do now, I’m sure it was the former, but we’ll get to that.

In the real world, every camera stopped recording simultaneously when I tried to describe the witch; I think I saw her true form in that final moment, but I can’t be sure now. That’s when I carved “never again” into my arm; when the cameras come back on, there’s a bandage tied around the wound, and I’m still shaking from the memory of dying as Bethany. I would have sold my soul to quit before the next one started, but I barely had time to catch my breath.

Fun fact: When people actually do sell their souls, it’s not to Satan like in the movies – hell it’s not even to the same entity. It’s usually a demon, but as far as the owner is concerned… Well, let’s just say reincarnation is off the table. Trust me folks, never sell your soul.


The Carter House

Now, it was the early 20’s, and all I could do was brace for impact. The only consolation was how little my brain can hold at once; the slight pressure evolved into a full blown headache as new information poured in, and the old was pushed out. Unfortunately, the bad memories stick hardest, and even when they’re gone, they leave behind a nasty residue. What little I said over the following hour was mostly gibberish; when I finally calmed enough to speak coherently, I was being drafted into World War II, and soon, the screams began anew.

Something haunted me in that life, too; something worse than the war. I survived two years in battle before going home with a Purple Heart, yet the worst of my reactions happened long after being discharged. Based on the few understandable things said, my death wasn’t natural or any longer than Bethany’s. Thankfully, whatever happened was enough to scare me straight; I suddenly became very serious and managed to compose myself before the next round.

The time between death and rebirth varies from years to decades pending each person’s situation; it’s impossible to know when someone will be reincarnated. That being said, a definite pattern was beginning to emerge as I was plunged into the late 1880’s – the same timeframe as the two before. It’s even more concerning when you take my current age of 28 into consideration.

My childhood as Charles began well enough; my parents were farmers, we lived in a grand antebellum home, and I was the youngest of five. My siblings weren’t cruel, but they were several years older and held no interest in me. Much of my time was spent at the creek behind our house; it was only a ten minute walk through the forest, and I enjoyed skipping rocks across its surface.

At age 8, I was trying to build a dam when another boy leapt from the woods on the opposite bank. I was so excited to meet someone my own age, I answered all of his questions and asked a slew of my own. His name was Daniel, and he lived on the other side of the forest. We played together until dusk and agreed to meet again the next day. For the next two weeks, I woke early, hurried through my chores, and rushed to the creek.

Then came the Fourth of July; every year, the town threw a huge celebration. Such events were taken very seriously in the days when there was literally nothing else to do. The idea someone might wish to stay home was practically unthinkable, yet that’s what Danny claimed – stating his family didn’t like the loud noises or crowds. I was disappointed, but my parents were suspicious; being antisocial wasn’t just frowned upon, it was downright sinister. They already thought it was odd someone moved into the old Carter house – the only home on that side of the creek, apparently – without their knowing, but shrugged it off as a consequence of a secluded farm life.

When the celebration began, I joined the other kids, and we played while the adults gossiped. It was surprising to learn not one other child knew Danny, but I still wasn’t concerned until the next day, back at the creek. We were only there for a few minutes when my two brothers appeared; judging by their facial expressions, they were there for something I would find extremely unpleasant. Sure enough, Eric (the oldest) said they were tasked with inviting Daniel and his parents to supper.

My brothers were almost triple our size, and not easy to handle when provoked. I countered each smartass remark Danny threw with groveling apologies and promises to invite his parents myself; when they ignored Daniel’s remarks – a temporary relief washed through me. If nothing else, I wouldn’t be forced to watch them kill my only friend, but they still continued across the creek. Danny ran ahead, disappearing into the dense forest, leaving me to awkwardly follow my siblings.

We walked for almost 45 minutes before finally coming to the old Carter House. It needed a fresh paint job, but structurally, it wasn’t that bad. There was no sign of my friend, and I stood far back as Eric knocked on the front door. When no one answered, he walked around back; a few minutes later the door opened, and John – who was still on the stoop – walked inside. My heart raced as I imagined the various ways they were sabotaging my only friendship. It’s hard to say how much time actually passed before Eric called for me from a second story window, but it felt like hours.

The moment I crossed the threshold, two things happened. First, I realized the house was empty; no one had lived there for years. Second, John grabbed my wrist and pulled me to the ground. Once pinned, Eric began the interrogation. “Why wouldn’t you admit he was imaginary before we came all the way up here?” They demanded.

I was naive enough to think we had the wrong house, but there were no others in the area. The only logical conclusion was that Daniel lied to me, but why? That’s when I realized my brothers didn’t ignore him at the creek; they genuinely hadn’t seen him. It was too much for me to comprehend, but I had plenty of time to think about it after Eric and John locked me in the basement. They said if I tried hard enough I would find a way out… I couldn’t believe they really abandoned me. When their laughter faded into the distance, the silence was absolute.

Every spooky tale my siblings ever told filled my mind, and then I heard it; the front door opened… Someone came inside, (thud) but it didn’t sound like my brothers. There were no taunts or jeering, and as the footsteps continued into the house, (thud) I could tell it was only one person; (thud) one person who was moving extremely slow, (thud) and had loud, heavy footsteps (thud). When they were directly above me, dust showered onto my face, (thud) and I struggled not to cough. Wiping the grit from my eyes, I moved beneath the staircase and positioned myself behind the few boxes there (thud). I sat, desperate to control my breathing as each thudding step reverberated through my body, (thud) and finally, they came to a stop at the basement door (thud).

As the doorknob turned, I clasped my hands over my mouth to stifle a scream, but my whimper was surely heard. The door creaked open on rusty hinges, and it lasted for so long I wanted to leap from my hiding place and finish it myself. Had I the presence of mind to remember what an orgasm was – I would have recognized the euphoric sensation I felt when the beautiful sound of brass meeting wall announced the end of that damned creaking!

Then the steps resumed, (thud) and slowly made their way down the stairs (thud). Shielding my eyes from the fresh shower of dirt, (thud) I waited anxiously for my tormentor to come into view (thud), but they stopped before reaching the bottom (thud). In the small gap between treads, a tall shadow could be seen looming on the wall, and for a moment, I thought it had eyes, but on the next glimpse, they were gone. Finally, when I thought the tension would suffocate me – a young, familiar voice spoke. “You never learn do you?” It was Danny.

Relief was my immediate reaction, though it was quickly pushed aside for embarrassment – which was actually just a precursor for fury. I decided whatever was said should be done face to face, but upon trying to stand, I noticed my pants were soaked in urine; the blood-boiling rage threatening to consume me suddenly vanished and – in the end – shame was the prevailing emotion.

When I didn’t respond, Daniel took a few more steps and stopped at the bottom of the staircase. Between the treads, all I could see now was the black outline of his body; it was too dark to make out any features, but from my position on the floor, he appeared much taller than he should. After a long, tense moment of silence, he spoke again, “Over and over, we play this game, but you’re just as clueless as ever.” It was almost a sigh.

Had I understood what he was trying to say, I might have answered, but nothing made sense – not his words, not the house, not why my brothers couldn’t see him – nothing! Whew, it’s getting harder to talk about this… what he said next… I thought I was going to die right there in that basement.

“How many times will you fall for the same trick? How often have I told you? I can look however I want!” As he spoke, his voice was changing – becoming the high, shrill voice of an old woman… or more specifically, an old witch. I didn’t recognize it at that moment, but yea, it was the same one who tormented Bethany. Of course, for now, it was enough that I watched my only friend’s shape grow taller and thinner before my eyes.

Despite my best efforts a loud groan escaped my throat, and the thing I once called Danny cackled the most sinister, maniacal laugh I’ve ever heard. Even now, a year later, echoes of that laugh haunt me; it only stopped when the loud bang of the front door surprised us both. At the sound of my brother’s taunts, I wept openly with relief, but the witch had one more thing to say before vanishing. “I’ll see you soon, Charlie boy!” It used Daniel’s voice, and left behind a horrid stench of rotten meat.

Seconds later, Eric burst through the door; apparently, it had never been locked. I could have left right behind them had I bothered to check. Mom sent him to fetch me when they returned alone; in exchange for not telling her they left me behind, he agreed to help me hide the shame of my wet trousers.

My entire world changed that day; there was no more Danny at the creek, only the witch in my dreams… except sometimes they weren’t dreams. For seven years, I periodically woke to light scratches on my back, but those were the least damaging encounters. Sometimes, I woke to pebbles being thrown at my window; if I looked outside, Daniel would be there, pale and black-eyed. Sometimes, he morphed into a monster that I can only describe as an evil Chewbacca.

At eighteen, I joined the military; it was a hard, miserable life, but it was preferable to being tortured in my own home. As an adult, it was easy to convince myself the witch’s cryptic remarks were meaningless – just another psychological warfare tactic – but sometimes, late at night, a voice in the back of my mind made me wonder if there wasn’t more to it; I should have listened.

I did well in my chosen career, and life improved slightly when I was no longer at the bottom of the pecking order. The first time I returned home was over a decade later, after my thirtieth birthday; my success in the military made me mistake foolishness for bravery. One of the first things I did upon returning was mock the witch; sitting on my old bed, I said all the things I was too afraid to say as a child. Nothing happened; it was almost disappointing until I realized how silly it sounded to have expected anything else.

I thought no more of her as I enjoyed reuniting with family; Eric and John kept me awake with talk and liquor late into the night. When I finally stumbled upstairs, my head was swimming with their finest homemade reserves, and I was unconscious before my boots were off. The next thing I knew, there was a burning, itching sensation spreading down my spine; it felt like ants were in the bed.

Still half delirious, I reached back to scratch, but something grabbed my wrist in a cold grip of steel. It didn’t feel like flesh and bone at all; my mind struggled to shake the sleep away, and upon remembering my location, I understood what was happening. Thinking that monster would show itself when challenged was simply moronic; of course it would wait until I was most vulnerable.

“Did you miss me?” It used Daniel’s voice – pulling my arm down painfully as it leaned forward to whisper in my ear. If its cold, putrid breath weren’t bad enough, an oddly dry, pasty tongue licked around my earlobe before plunging all the way inside. Just when I thought my arm would break from the pressure, I was flipped over onto my back and face to face with the ugliest creature I’ve ever seen. It was humanoid but with dark green skin that was covered in sores and boils; though it appeared frail in size, it had me pinned as effectively as if I were strapped to the mattress.

“Do you remember me yet?” It smiled wide, and its black tongue slowly ran across two rows of sharp, yellow teeth as drool dripped onto my chest. Every drop burned into my skin like acid; I opened my mouth to scream, but no sound came out.

“You better hurry; we’re almost out of time and then you’ll have to start all over again in the next life!” It threw its head back and laughed that insane, maniacal laugh. I didn’t have to wonder about the last remark for too long; I saw thick clouds of smoke floating by the window in the same instant I smelled it. Our house was on fire, and my whole family was asleep on the upper floors. I poured my entire being into trying to scream; I didn’t care about myself – I only needed to wake the others, but it was no use.

Thankfully I can’t physically remember the details of burning alive in that moment, but I’ll never enjoy a bonfire again. Last time I went near one, I collapsed the moment I smelled the smoke. There’s actually a lot of things I can’t enjoy anymore, but for now let’s get this last part over with. Recounting these experiences has been less therapeutic than hoped, but they’re helping me organize my thoughts so I’m trying to see this through.


Easter Egg

The splitting-pain in my head was now a full-blown migraine; trying to sit-up was impossible, my skull was filled with cement, and I genuinely wondered if I would die. I know at least two more lives played out while I was half comatose, but the details are lost. They were no doubt strikingly similar to the others; the important thing is that I was able to save what is likely the most vital piece of information from my entire existence.

When I finally had enough control to talk to the camera again, I wasn’t sure of the date, but it was still the 19th century. This time I was a woman named Penelope, and yet again my romantic preference skewed towards women; it was dangerous in the 70’s, but downright deadly in that era. Though I was never brave enough to pursue my true interest, I couldn’t force myself to be with a man, either. Unfortunately, being single wasn’t much safer – it was practically scandalous by age twenty.

I made it to 25 before my father arranged a marriage, and I ran away three weeks before the ceremony. There was no chance of escape in my hometown; it was small, and everyone knew me. My chance came when we journeyed to the city. On the first day, I feigned weariness from travel and stayed at the inn while my family enjoyed the shops. When they had enough time to be well away, I walked out with nothing but a bag of meager supplies; no one even noticed. My only regret was never learning my family’s reaction. Did they think I was taken? Did they suspect the truth? I have no idea.

Getting through the streets was easier than my best expectation once I pinned my hair and put on a hooded cloak. When the city sounds were nothing but fading noise, I felt happiness for the first time in decades. Kicking off my shoes, I ran and jumped like an elated child; it was pure ecstasy. I intended to go as far as my legs would take me; there was enough food in my bag to last a week if I was careful. Beyond that I didn’t have a clue.

When the sun began to set, I searched for a place to spend the night. Wandering along a high cliff-face, I stumbled onto a small recess, barely big enough to crawl through. I thought it was a crevice, but was shocked to find it opened into a large cavern! The sparse light remaining was dedicated to starting a cozy fire in my new home; it was easy once I’d gathered the wood and lit a few torches. With the cave illuminated, I could see another opening in the back wall; it was a tunnel – almost four feet wide, and high enough to stand.

I walked for roughly a mile and was almost ready to turn back when the passage suddenly veered left. I was only planning to look around the curve, but it was impossible to stop once I saw what lay ahead; the tunnel continued for another 30-40 yards before opening into a second cavern. It was too dark to see well, but something in there was emitting a soft, purple glow; I had to know what.

This, my friends, is a tragically perfect example of ‘curiosity killed the cat’; deeper and deeper I traipsed into the lion’s den – because why not? I was very familiar with monsters; they’re people – humans, like you and me. They live in my home and in yours; they live next door and in the streets, but there were no people in my heavenly cave!… Now, let me tell you what was

With the torchlight I could see the walls were covered in some kind of fleshy, pink membrane, and the strange light was coming from dozens of colored eggs. They stood on intricately designed pedestals and cast their strange glow on the boulders surrounding their nest. I thought it was the most marvelous sight in the world; how they came to be never crossed my mind. I leaned in closely with the torch – only wanting to see them better – but the very second the light fell on them… They erupted into flames.

Once the first ones were burning, the rest soon followed, and the entire cavern became bright as day. In the same instant, the things I mistook for boulders formed grotesque faces with bulbous black eyes and curved needle-teeth. Now that I could see clearly, I noticed thousands of thin tendrils all over the cave-floor, connecting the creatures and eggs. Their deep, guttural moans made my bones shake; the only thing I wanted to do was crawl out of that cave and get married in three weeks. Covering my ears, I hastily backed away from the hungry flames, but I collided with something.

Cold, hard arms lifted me high into the air, and no amount of kicking or pleading was going to save me. During the walk, my captor showed me things; it wanted me to understand what was done, and what price I would pay. I was helpless as visions of our planet’s darkest secrets raced through my mind.

Long before the first white man came to America, the entity was worshiped as a god. When other nations tried to settle their land, his followers rapidly dwindled until none remained. Though the creature killed many of these invaders – they refused to submit; instead they chose to flee or return with an angry mob. Over the centuries, circumstances only worsened until those caves – and eggs – were are all that remained.

The eggs weren’t conceived in the traditional sense, but born of tormented souls. When enough malice and hatred are collected into one being – it’s morphed into a horrible abomination. Those eggs were like little incubators; they grew until the transformation was complete, then a new nightmare was unleashed into our unsuspecting world. Monsters that, today, people call Cryptids – but it takes centuries for those eggs to hatch, and I had just destroyed 42 in seconds.

I’m being primed for one of those eggs; my soul is marked. Each time it finds me, it thinks of new, creative games, and – each time it kills me – it takes a piece of my soul for the incubator. I don’t know why it hasn’t come for me yet, but I’ve never known about Easter Memoria before meeting him like I have this time… or… wait… maybe that’s what it wants me to think; maybe it’s already in my life! What if my being raised around people with this knowledge was part of its master plan?

I need to get the fuck out Georgia, now. If I can find a safe place to do the ritual just one more time… I think there’s a reason those cameras cut out when Bethany died; it has to mean something. This revelation might just give me a fighting chance; if I’m able to update this one day – I will.

Thank you all so much for listening… Wish me luck.

Horror Fiction

The Growing Settlements (Pt. 3)

Part 3 of The Settlement Settlement series.

Now a CreepyPasta

Beautifully narrated by The Dark Somnium: YouTube, Podcast, Spotify
The Cursed Woods (1677)

Hello there! Look what the cat dragged… oh my! Are you alright?! Hurry, get inside!

… You need to get here earlier if you’re gonna pay regular visits! Just because you’re safe inside doesn’t mean you can be roaming around outside all willy-nilly. Judging by the mud on your clothes, am I right to assume those scratches are from a fall?

… Thank Jiminy! We won’t have to deal with another infection. Trish can help you get cleaned up. We find a surprising amount of first aid kits and have to keep everything. I can’t stand to let the forest get cluttered. Having a demon for a neighbor is no reason to neglect lawn care.

… That’s right, I did promise to read from my journal, didn’t I? I’m happy to oblige, but I warn you, there’s more than usual; we won’t be able to finish it tonight. Unlike my predecessors, I have a fondness for talking… as I’m sure you’ve noticed. Hush now, Ethan! I hear you snickering over there. You just enjoy that iPhone before it dies.

… Huh? No, he can’t use it in the traditional sense, but that one has a bunch of movies downloaded. We love movies! If we woulda seen one of those back in my day, there’d have been a witch hunt for the ages! Anyway, I can see you’re ready to get started, but let me catch you up first.

My father didn’t enjoy his title, but he was the head honcho for over twenty years. I never had the burden myself, thank the good cricket, but my brother, Timothy, did. The position wasn’t guaranteed through blood – that barely got your name in the hat. You had to be respected by the community, and that wasn’t earned lightly. When it became clear Uncle Snake’s sons wouldn’t fit the bill, Tim proved himself capable.

Dad taught us to read and write. My brothers hated it, but my sister and I wanted to read everything. There were precious few books in Jamestown back then. Paper and writing tools weren’t exactly common either, but I’d write in the dirt just to have something new to read.

… Sure, we had a school, but not like you think. Surviving was the most important thing to learn. What’s safe to eat and drink, hunting, farming, and the like.

… No, I never got bit by the travel bug. Too many people decided to go exploring and never came back. Who knows if they settled somewhere or died… either is likely. Plus, Trish was in Jamestown. I asked Ms. Patricia Mayfield to dance when she was sixteen and haven’t been able to calm my racing heart since!

… Hell’s bells, woman! I’m trying to be romantic! Can’t you let me set the mood for our friend? Atmosphere is a key component to good storytelling!

… As I was saying, my heart raced until the day we died. Now – obviously – the racing is metaphorical, but it’s there all the same. We were married next spring and started our own little family.

… Yes, thanks for getting me back on track. A few months after I was born, another group of settlers came looking for the third group! They’re the first thing I wrote about, in fact.

When father died in ‘77, I found a hidden stash of new journals. I don’t know where or when he collected them all, but I was so happy I could hardly stand it. They were better than gold, and I wanted to fill every one of them. Course I couldn’t, but I made sure they stayed in the family. Now we have journals full of our history, and I can’t tell ya how happy I am to have someone to share it with.

… Aww shucks, don’t thank me. Really, I should be thanking you! Well, I’ve probably wasted enough time rambling. I wrote my first entry the night I found the books so we should be ready to get started.


January 30, 1677

I cannot believe I am writing in my very own journal! There are only a few worn pages remaining in the one father continued, and the whole thing is ready to fall apart. It seems a better idea to begin my writings on crisp, new pages. A trunk full of books may be the most magnificent scent in all this world. If not for the burden of family, I would surely never leave my desk again.

I wish I could begin this book with an account of what happened to the second settlement, but sadly my knowledge lacks the ability to do it justice. It is most unfortunate that Father never found time to write of them, for now only their descendants remain. Eventually, I may be able to collect information from the relatives, but it will be difficult to confirm the accuracy.

For that reason, I believe it best to first document the fourth settlement. There are still survivors who can give me first-hand accounts, and no more time should be wasted in recording their story.

They came in 1645; this time only eighty people survived the voyage. The ship was attacked by pirates six weeks before they arrived. Twenty-nine people died in the fight, but the assailants retreated when they lost too many of their own.

When the travel-weary colonists found the third settlement abandoned, they sent scouting parties to search the surrounding areas. Our people were extremely uneasy when the new arrivals came into Jamestown. This was only two years after my uncle’s incident; the men lost to that venture had families who still grieved.

The scouts explained they were looking for the lost colony; many of the newcomers were their kin. Someone from the previous group was able to get a letter detailing how wonderful their new home was onto a merchant ship. Of all the times for correspondence to make it across the ocean… alas, as a result, more came to join them. Funding, travel, and many other factors culminated in a delayed arrival.

Father and those who had relatives in the new group accompanied the scouts back to Dirge Lake; it was hoped a fourth settlement could be prevented if the warnings came from their own. Father once told me he could see the difference in the lake from his previous visit. The green film now covered the water’s surface, and the grass grew in sparse patches. He tried to stress these facts in his warnings, but most decided to stay.

Peter Evans was too old for the hike, but his younger sister, Pamela, was the first family he had seen since the death of his children. Her husband was killed by the pirates, but her son and his family were well. Pamela returned with Peter that evening, citing herself too old and heartbroken to face the trials of resettling – demon or not. Her son would not be swayed.

Ethel Kingston was too frail to make the hike, but her eldest daughter, Sally, went in her stead. Ethel’s niece had died in childbirth, and her husband was killed by the pirates. The baby, having no other family, was given to Sally.

The only others to come to Jamestown that night were the newly widowed Emma Granger and her daughter, Anna. Mrs. Granger hoped to be taken in by her brother-in-law, but he was a victim of the lake monster.

There were no other family reunions; the remaining were given the bad news of their loved one’s demise. Once sure no others could be convinced, father got our people across the river before nightfall. They say everyone watched for their return in great anticipation, letting out a collective sigh of disappointment at the sight of the small group. The Grangers were taken in by the Richardson family until a home could be built. In preparation for the future arrivals, new land was cleared, and homes were built over the next several months.

It also served to keep minds occupied. They no longer feared solely for others. Now they also had to worry the demon would choose another escape tool. Meanwhile, the fourth settlement, excited to be on dry land, wasted no time in restoring the village.

My, how quickly the time flies as these pages fill! I should end this here. It would be unfortunate to have Patricia cross with me on my first night as a writer. Perhaps I shall try my hand at a love poem once I gain some confidence with the pen.


I swear to you, I remember the moment I wrote that line; I was thinking to myself, ‘I wish there was a way to convey a wink through the written word.’

… Ethan, I don’t care if the battery died, don’t interrupt story time! You should know better; we knew people who were hanged for less! Sorry bout that, friend; it’s almost torture having a drawer full of phone chargers but no electricity.

… Yes indeed, I did tell you the power was out on your first visit, and technically that’s the truth. It’s been out for three years since the ole generator went kaput.

… Why are you rifling through your bag? You looking for something?

… What’s a battery… brick?

… It does what?!

… You sure you don’t mind? Wow, Ethan! Thank our kind friend for restoring the movie magic!

… That should keep him nice and quiet.


January 31, 1677

I may not have long tonight. Trish was not pleased with my absence at the children’s bedtime nor my lateness to our own. If I do not want to bunk with the boys, I will need to retire much earlier. I thought of this journal all day, and how Father not only documented the events that happened but sought new information as well.

I have indulged fantasies of meeting the Shaman in the Great Mountains, but I do not dare make the journey myself. I could petition Tim to send a small party. It is truly the wisest strategy; sooner or later, the demon will escape, and when it does, we will likely be the first to fall. If not in our lifetime, our children’s.

Yes, I will go to him first thing in the morning. Now, back to the fourth colony. They had a fraction of the work previous settlements endured. The forest had less time to grow back, leaving smaller trees to clear, and many homes only needed repairs before they could be moved into and cleaned.

The earliest complaints were in the second month. In the dead of night, Matthew Brown and his wife, Harriet, woke to fast, heavy banging at the front door. Matthew dressed and rushed downstairs, nearly tripping on the steps in his haste. He could not fathom a reason someone would be so far out as his farm, but the knocking stopped as he reached the landing. A sick feeling in his stomach made him retrieve his rifle before slowly approaching a window.

Pressing his back against the wall, he turned his neck to peer outside. There was nothing near the door. Moving to the other side, he saw only darkness. Matthew maneuvered to the opposite window, stepping in front of it and almost losing his stomach when a face stared back. He screamed, and his reflection with him.

Harriet came to stand by the window, startling him anew. Feeling foolish, Matthew steeled himself and unbolted the door. Lantern held high, he stepped outside. They heard someone calling for help from the forest, but said it sounded “unnatural” as if a child who did not know our language were trying to use the word.

Unsure what to do, Matthew called out, asking what was wrong. The voice went silent for a moment, then in the same, odd cadence, replied “Hello” twice more. Harriet ran indoors, trying to pull her husband along, but he was rooted in place.

He called out again, asking their name. After another pause, the voice choked out, “help, hello, something wrong” while growing deeper with each word. Not waiting to hear more, Matthew joined his wife and locked the doors. Nothing else happened that night, and no one believed their tale in the morning.

Harriet says they believed the village was haunted by the ghosts of the dead. After she came to Jamestown, she shared her experiences with the elders. They believe, as Kawani had warned, another evil entity has been attracted to the demon’s power. They will not tell me what this new creature is; claiming to speak or write the name would only increase its strength. Whatever it is, they act as if they are familiar with its kind.

I hope to learn more on this matter. Though, I wonder how many of these abominations can coexist… is there no chance one might kill another?

Tarnation’s, the time! Damn my fool brain, I shall bunk with the boys yet!


February 1, 1677

Once again, I found myself thinking of this moment all day. I have fantastic news! Tim has agreed to my request! I am not comfortable with our brother, James, leading the expedition, but I know he stands the greatest chance of success. My conscience can rest easier knowing he chooses this dangerous path freely, with excitement.

They will leave as soon as the weather turns warm, and the journey will be long, difficult, and dangerous. I will not let myself dwell on possible negative outcomes, but the venture will take months with optimistic estimations, years at worst. If we are lucky, they may return with valuable information before a fifth colony tries to settle Dirge Lake.

Returning to matters of the fourth settlement, I spoke with Tim’s spiritual advisor regarding Harriet Brown’s claim. Like the elders, he became angry, refusing to speak on the matter. Whatever it is – he too, fears it more than the ghosts, lake monster, and demon combined. If these creatures came to the demon, drawn by it, does that mean they are not likewise confined? Perhaps I should desist further attempts to identify it.

Instead, I’ll continue with the colony’s next tragedy. It was a few weeks after the happenings at the farm when four hunters walked into the Cursed Woods, and none returned. When a search party was formed, they only found scraps of bloodied clothing.

The men were a heavy loss to the small community. Every person has a part to play, and storing food for the winter is a key element to survival. Desperate to find reason in the chaos, they blamed a bear for the deaths. Pamela Mayfield’s son was one of the deceased hunters. A single good thing I can write concerning this incident is that her daughter-in-law and grandchildren joined her in Jamestown.

The following month is when Matthew Brown disappeared. His wife said they had only begun letting down their guard when their new dog leapt from its blanket, barking savagely. Seconds later, loud, desperate banging shook the door in its frame. The farmer retrieved his rifle while Harriet soothed the dog. It continued to growl low in its throat, hair and tail standing erect.

“Who goes there?!” Matthew shouted. The knocking stopped, but there was no answer.

The hound let out a slight whimper but remained on guard. Harriet was trying to pull her husband away when a series of sharp bangs came from the kitchen. Matthew rushed through the house to see the shutters flapping wildly. After securing them in place, a crash, guttural scream, and more furious barking sounded simultaneously.

He returned to see the door standing open, his wife frozen in shock, and the dog missing. He ran outside, calling its name. This snapped Harriet from her stupor, and she begged Matthew to return. He refused, stating they could not afford to lose the expensive hound. Its future puppies would be too important to their livelihood.

She watched in horror as her husband ran into the forest, rifle in one hand, lantern in the other, calling for a dog that would turn out to be hiding in the bushes aside the house. Harriet discovered it whimpering after it was too late to recall Matthew. She and her pet were the last ones to escape before things became truly perilous.

The elders insisted on personally inspecting each new resident for signs of possession, but it was a small price to pay. Some have told me they would have traded their souls for shelter across the river if that were the price. Most expressed relief with their interrogations, finding comfort in how seriously the matter was considered.

I do not know much of the world outside, but I have learned enough to understand I would live nowhere else. Alas, I once again retire. I must wake with the dawn tomorrow. There are weeks remaining in winter, yet our own food stores run low. I will need to forage before another blizzard snows us in.


I tell ya, you can’t appreciate today’s luxuries without understanding what it was like having mouths to feed before grocery stores. Now that’s something, ain’t it? Grocery stores? Boy, would I love to go into one! Just for the experience. No, wait, better yet, fast food! That would be a treat!

… I know you’re ready to hear more, but I thought you might need a break. Besides, the fire has gotten a little low. The movies are spoiling that boy. If it gets any darker in here something really is liable to come down the chimney – and it won’t be Santa. Last time it took us weeks to get rid of the smell and stains.

… Well never mind all the how’s and what’s. Hold yer hopping horses while me and the potato sack throw some more logs on. Won’t take but a minute, then I just need to check a little something outside.

… … … There we are. Sorry about all the commotion out there. Got a little dicey for a second, but it’s fine now. Trish’s mother popped by – she’s having one of her spells again, but I don’t expect she’ll be back tonight.

… Oh, that’s too long of a story to get into tonight, but if you ever see a tall woman with wild, fire-red hair and a missing eye – run away. She has good days and bad, but you don’t want to get close enough to find out which she’s having. Here, let’s get back to the story.


February 3, 1677

I missed one night of writing, but it feels like weeks. Yesterday, I departed before the sun was fully risen. Game is scarce in the winter, but I could not return without meat. There is no greater shame for a man than failing to feed his family. I procured enough food to carry us safely through the last snows, but I had no energy remaining for the journal. I was barely able to remove my shoes before collapsing into slumber.

When I am finished telling of the fourth settlement, I do not know what I will have to write about. The everyday life in Jamestown is hardly of any interest. My eyes grow heavy at the mere thought of discussing crops or chronicling births and deaths, but what else is there?

After Harriet Brown fled, the small village remained quiet for nearly a week until the next occurrence. Shortly after nightfall, Ronald and Janice Burns knocked on every door in search of their missing daughter. A thorough inspection of the village revealed Julia’s last known whereabouts to be the stables, but it could not be determined where she next went. Puzzled over her disappearance, heated words were exchanged regarding the next course of action.

Her parents were adamant she would never stray far, especially alone, but the forest was the only place not yet searched. Many agreed to a morning search, but only Ronald’s two closest friends agreed to immediate action.

The three men ventured into the dense, dark woods. Thorny brambles tugged at their legs as they called for Julia. The torches were difficult to maneuver through the low hanging vines and limbs, but they refused to turn back. Hoping the young girl could not have traveled far, they planned to go only a little further before turning to circle the settlement’s perimeter.

They came to a sudden halt when the loud snap of a broken branch sounded to their left. Standing back-to-back, two men held their torches high while the third aimed his rifle in the direction of the noise. There was only silence as they waited. Ronald called for Julia, but no answer came. They walked a few yards more until the treetops overhead began to shake violently, despite the fact no wind blew.

Coming to another stop, they could only stare up in horror as a giant, black shadow moved from tree to tree above them, circling the three men. David Sullivan dropped his rifle to the ground and fled in terror. The thing in the trees stopped quickly, turning away to chase David like a cat with a mouse.

Greg Jones and Ronald stood frozen in terror; the trees following their friend’s trail shook as the beast chased him down. He was out of sight when David’s death wails were heard, but that did not make it easier to hear. After the screams fell silent, the two men woke from their trance.

No moon or stars could be seen from beneath the forest canopy, but they feared the torch would reveal their location. Light held low, hearts thudding, they retreated away from the place their friend was killed. They could see hardly a foot away, but they did not pause, focusing only on the next step ahead.

The sound of their heavy breaths broke the silence, adding another unsettling layer to the atmosphere. Greg has always claimed he felt the thing’s eyes before he heard it return. They were barely fifty yards from salvation when a shadow streaked by their right, then across their path.

Mr. Jones says its outline was visible for hardly a second, but he is certain it was almost seven feet tall, and its head and back were disproportionate to the rest of its body. The sight cost him a moment’s hesitation, but Ronald sprung forward. As it had with David, the beast shot through the trees, giving chase.

The screams were heard by all in the village. Greg escaped as his friend died in agony. Nothing more could be done for the dead; all efforts of a morning search were called off. Janice had to be physically restrained to prevent her from entering the forest. Her mind has never been quite right since, but considering the terrible events of the following morning, that should not come as surprise.

Damn, yet again I have stayed at this desk too long. The rest will have to wait.


Holy smokes folks, we got a live one! Assume positions!

… … … … … … Whew, Trish, it’s clear! You can bring our friend out now.

… I am terribly sorry for the rude interruption. It’s been a long time since my mother-in-law was so riled up. I think she’s just curious about you, but don’t worry, I don’t plan on doing any introductions.

… That’s kind of you to say, but I feel just awful about this mess. You went paler than a bucket of white paint when that door flew open. Most can’t get inside at all, but we tend to be persistent in this family. Don’t you worry though, I promise, this time I’m sure she won’t be back tonight… probably not for a while.

… Haha, you and your specific questions. Hey, it’s getting pretty late, we better get back to it or we won’t even have time to finish the next entry.


February 4, 1677

Today, I visited James to discuss his travel preparations. He believes they will be ready to leave a few days earlier than estimated if the weather continues to warm. I am both worried and excited about the upcoming expedition, but I fear for my brother’s life most. I cannot imagine how I will cope with the anxiety for such an extended period.

Last night, I had a frightfully vivid nightmare. Like my predecessors, I believe dwelling on these morbid topics are affecting my mind. It was so real; I can almost still smell the blood. In my dream, I was part of the fourth settlement. Three men and I were deep in the Cursed Woods, hunting. I have never seen them, yet I knew them in the moment. After a long day, we packed our meat and began the hike home.

We walked for hours as day faded to dusk, long after we should have returned. There was only one trail where we hunted, we could not understand how we became lost. Then an argument erupted; two wished to turn back in search of familiar surroundings, myself and the other were determined to continue forward. Eventually, exhausted and frustrated, we split up.

If I were truly in such circumstances, I have no doubt I would retrace my steps to familiar territory, yet in the dream, the idea was unthinkable. It grew darker by the minute, and we could not afford further delay. I thought of my family’s worry if I were forced to camp overnight and walked faster.

Eventually, we saw a soft, orange glow ahead. In my mind, I knew we should run away, but my feet carried me against my wishes. I assume the same was true for my companion; he walked alongside me, equally entranced by the mysterious lights growing brighter at our approach.

The path we walked opened into a small, dead clearing. Not one blade of grass grew within the circle; only a stone altar stood in the otherwise empty clearing. The source of the light seemed to be dozens of glowing… I do not know how to convey… orbs or sacs hanging in the surrounding trees. They were the size of watermelons, but soft, and oozing thick liquid. They writhed as if something moved inside; my innards tangled at the sight.

I saw my partner walk forward, hand outstretched, mouth open. I wanted to scream for him to stop, but I only watched. I still feel the bile that rose in the back of my throat when he touched one only for it to burst. A foul, yellow liquid covered the man, and I could hear the sizzle of his skin beneath his screams of agony. I covered my eyes but could not look away as the substance reduced him to a puddle. Long as I live, I may never lose the image of it.

There was a slight rustle in the tree directly above, and before I could move, it dropped from the branches, landing behind me. I felt the vibrations in the ground and heard the crunch of leaves as it landed. I willed my feet to flee but lost all control of bodily functions.

I was helpless as I felt hot, putrid breath on the back of my neck. A single claw lightly touched my head, traced down to my shoulders, and around my throat before stopping. With barely a pause, two rough, bony hands squeezed my head until I thought my skull would shatter. The pressure was so intense, my vision blacked out. The last thing I heard before waking, drenched with sweat, was “You are too weak.”

It seems foolish to be so disturbed by a mere dream, but I do not have it in me to write more this night. At least Trish should be pleased.


February 6, 1677

A short break is exactly what I needed. I feel refreshed and eager to write again. The morning after Ronald and David were killed, the village woke to a stable boy frantically ringing a bell, shouting for the doctor.

When the boy was calm enough to communicate, they learned the body of Janice Burns was in the loft, concealed beneath the hay. Two men were dead, and she never left the stables. Her clothes were ripped, and she bore the marks of being strangled, but she was not sexually violated. The already divided community became hostile, some trading blows amidst the arguments. I cannot imagine their position. In a place with so much evil, how is one know when it is truly the work of man?

A few days later, Jeffery Morris returned home to find his wife missing. This time they left no stone unturned in the search. She was found in the church house, her body left lying on a pew in much the same condition as Janice. The only difference was the skin beneath her nails. Knowing the murderer was marked, each man was inspected.

When Marcus Dean’s arms bore deep, red scratches, he claimed it happened while clearing thorn bushes from his land. When his story fell apart, he wept, begging forgiveness, claiming evil spirits forced his hand. Several witnesses say the man showed no signs of remorse before caught, but even guilty, I do not know if he deserved his fate.

The man was already disliked in the community; he had no family and few he could call friend. The two factions of believers and non-believers were both crazed with fear and anger. It is difficult to get clear answers regarding how the decision was made – I believe all parties feel guilt for their actions – but it was decided Marcus would be the test to prove if monsters are real.

Fearing the lake monster least, as it is theoretically confined to the water, they tied Mr. Dean’s hands and feet. Putting him on a small raft, they gave him a makeshift paddle, stating he would go free if he made it to the other side.

No one spoke as the man awkwardly rowed. The only sound was the splash of his oar and a slight shuffle as repositioned himself. He could only row on one side for a few strokes before he began turning, and each time he changed sides, he almost lost the paddle.

He was near the center when something large splashed in the water behind him. His head snapped sharply to the side, looking for the source, but the water went still before anything more happened. Rowing faster, the raft rocked side to side with his clumsy, panicked movements.

In mid-stroke, Marcus’ paddle froze. He could be seen struggling to pull it from the water, but it appeared stuck. Another splash sounded as the oar was ripped from his grip. The resulting waves pushed Dean away, and the crowd gasped as pale, grayish-blue tentacles shot from the water, wrapping the screaming man and pulling him under. He never resurfaced. It was a long time before anyone moved, but when they did, they returned to their homes silently.

As my forefather once wrote, I do believe the demon understands when the people have decided to leave. They gathered in the morning and agreed they could be ready to go in two days. With Marcus deceased, they did not believe themselves to be in immediate danger so long as they avoided the lake and forest. That assumption cost them dearly. Like so many before them, brother was turned against sister, husband against wife, and no one was safe.

Helen Atkins smothered her baby before disappearing into the forest. John Newman was stabbed to death by his wife, and their son vanished in the chaos. Eric Smith, only seven at the time, hid in a closet as his father murdered his sister and mother before his footsteps could be heard leaving the house. Each survivor holds a similar tale.

When the sun rose on the second day, seventeen people lived. They did not pause to bury the dead; they left Dirge Lake with what possessions were already prepared and did not look back. When the wagons rode into Jamestown, they were welcomed and guided to the homes built in their anticipation. Some of our men returned for the livestock left behind, but since that day, no one has crossed the river.

There is no telling what may live there after so many years, but I hope James will return with new knowledge before we find out. Discovering how and why some are affected and some are not, is almost as vital as destroying the demon. Why do some seem to sleepwalk into the forest while others suffer from delusions? Some have experienced both. Is it the work of more than one creature? Or do the results depend on the victim? These questions burn within me, but I am helpless to discover the answers.


March 11, 1677

Finally, I can write something more interesting than the daily drivel! James and a small contingent of men have left for the Great Mountains! The long wait for his return officially begins! I already feel as if I will crawl out of my skin with worry, but it cannot be helped. If his expedition is successful, it could save countless lives in the future. I should not get my hopes up, but my imagination runs rampant, and I am at its mercy.


That entry babbles on a bit longer, but the relevant parts are over. Next time we can skip ahead to when the fifth group arrives. Boy, did those folks give me a run for my money! But we don’t have time to get into it now. The suns coming up and we shouldn’t press our luck any—

… Hold on there, friend! Let me clean my ears out before you repeat yourself. It sounded like you said you brought presents? Thank you gifts?

… Aw, shucks, you shouldn’t have! I noticed your pack was a little bulgy this time, but you know me – always respecting others’ privacy. Bless my oddly corporeal soul, I am on pins and needles! What is it?

… Oh my word! Those are Stephen King books! Real ones! Ones where the battery doesn’t die! Yes, please, let me give ‘em a good whiff!

… Really?! You bet! You feel free to bring me any books you were gonna donate. In fact, do you need cash? We have lots just sitting in a dresser. You could update your digital library and donate the old ones!

… That’s just silly, Trish. I’m not scaring our best friend. Look, that’s the face of… err… umm… hey, I know! Let’s get you on the trail! Can’t risk anything happening to you, can we pal? I Thank ya kindly and will anxiously await your next visit. Come back real soon, now! Real, real soon!


Part 4

Horror Fiction

The Infinity Game (Pt. 1)

My good friend Danie Dreadful did an amazing job narrating this one, please go show it some love so she’ll want to do the sequel too! YouTube or Spotify or Podcast

Now a CreepyPasta

Has anyone ever played the Infinity Game? The one with mirrors? Most people don’t know it’s a game, they just think it’s a cool visual effect. Maybe it’s different for me, being raised by witches. Not Halloween witches, but the ones who practice Wicca. You can Google it if you really want to learn about them, but I’m here to talk about the game.

Most people don’t understand what it’s capable of. They have no idea they’re standing at a locked door or what’s on the other side. It’s almost like Wizard of Oz. If you can find your way to the Mirror Master, you’ll be rewarded with a wish; but getting there is not an easy journey… and you want to choose your words carefully.

To play, you need at least one other person, two standing mirrors, five black candles, a stick of chalk, warm clothing, and a red armband. The red band is the most important thing to remember. It’s not required to get in, but you shouldn’t leave without it.

While in the Mirror World, you must be wary of your reflection. Its only goal is to take your place in the real world – meaning you will be trapped forever. It cannot kill you, instead it will attempt to trick you. Never, ever speak to it. It will be dressed like you, except its armband will be on the left. Whoever you have waiting in the real world will be responsible for ensuring it doesn’t get out. Choose someone you trust.

Only your reflection can take your place, but everything else you meet will try to kill you from sheer spite. If you die in there, your soul will be trapped, and the mirror through which you entered will shatter. Make sure your friend is aware a shattered mirror indicates they should immediately destroy the other one as well. Though unlikely, there are a few entities powerful enough to use this situation to their advantage. To be safe… make sure the friend isn’t easily manipulated.

Now that you have all the supplies, draw a pentagram on the floor with space for the mirrors in the center. Then put the lit candles on each point of the star. When everything is in place, the reflection will appear as a never-ending hallway.

Stand between the mirrors and focus only on the infinite corridor. Soon you will notice a shadow far behind your reflection. Focus on that, letting the world around you fade. Do not look away or blink. Slowly begin to inch forward, but do not be afraid of bumping into the glass. Think of it as platform nine-and-three-quarters: you must know it’s going to work. When you feel a drastic temperature drop, you can look at your surroundings. You are officially inside the Mirror World’s lobby… though, I suppose it’s more like a bridge. It’s what connects the two places, but my family calls it the lobby.

This is where you must proceed with extreme caution. The Mirror World is a backwards replica of ours. Not only does that mean left is right; it also means beautiful, thriving cities are dead and crumbling. If you are unable to enter, do not leave the game unattended. Remove the mirrors immediately. The things that live there can’t be described as “alive”, but they are desperate.

My mother was supposedly the only person to successfully return after seeing the Mirror Master. Growing up, I was told no one has ever met him; but when Mom (Ellen) died two months ago, I found her diary. My amazement grew with each passage as she described her own experience with the Infinity Game. Her first entry is from six months after having her first-born, John. He was sickly and doctors said he wouldn’t live to see his first birthday. She was aware of the game’s dangers, but she didn’t care, not if it could save her son.

I will copy the relevant entry here. Let it serve as warning to any who wish to play – even the winners lose.


From the Diary of Elle Pierce:

I hoped to never open this diary again. I purchased a new book for the start of our new lives, but instead of writing on crisp, clean pages, I continue here. The tear-stained memorial to the darkest six months of my life was to be buried under decades of beautiful memories, yet here I am.

I won the stupid game; we should be far away from this place, beginning anew, not… here. There is only hate and pain left in my heart. Everyone told me not to go, but I didn’t have a choice. Each time someone said, “you can always have more children” my heart ached with fury.

I was prepared to risk my own life, but not for this. Not to feel the joy of knowing my son would survive, only to have it ripped away again. I thought I would be different, but now I write this only to warn others. I hope that vile creature never wins another soul.

I entered easily, feeling the temperature drop as if exiting a heated room into an Arctic tundra. I always imagined a chill in the air, but this was cold enough to see my breath. Behind me was a mirror, and in it I saw Thomas. He appeared to be in shock; his mouth hung open, as he waved. It would have been funny under different circumstances.

I think the strange hallway is an in-between place. Both sides are lined with identical, white doors, and I didn’t know which to choose. I couldn’t see the end of the hall, it still appeared infinite. I tried the closest doors, but they were locked. There were no keyholes, just solid knobs.

I walked down the corridor, feeling more nervous each time I looked back to see Thomas farther away. There was no way to track the passage of time; electronics won’t work there. I don’t know how long I walked before I heard the soft click of a door opening, but I no longer saw home when I turned around; instead, I saw my reflection. She was wearing her armband on the left, just as the legend said.

I know I should have been afraid, but I found it comforting. It meant the stories were true, that John had a real chance at surviving. I would have gladly traded my own life for his, but that’s not how the game works.

My reflection called to me, “Are you lost? You need to go this way.” She indicated the open door where she emerged. I knew not to respond. I remained silent as she tried again. “Hello? What’s wrong, are you deaf or just rude? … Fine, I don’t care if you want to spend eternity trying to open locked doors.” She shrugged and began walking in Thomas’ direction.

I could not follow, I had to trust my husband to tell the difference. She would return when she failed to deceive him. I couldn’t go the way she recommended but wanted to look inside. I walked back to the open door, keeping a healthy distance. Standing in the center of the hall I tried to peer inside, but it was too dark to see anything.

I wasn’t even outside yet, and I was already cracking under the pressure. Were the other doors all really locked? How long before something worse found me? It was then I realized, why do they call this a game? “Game” implies there’s a way to move forward, clues to follow…

That’s when I understood how literal the stories were. If everything is backwards, shouldn’t I go to the door opposite the one indicated by my reflection? I reached for the other doorknob, holding my breath as I felt it turn beneath my hand. It opened effortlessly though I know it was locked before.

It opened to reveal our kitchen, where Thomas and I chose to set the mirrors. The light was dim, everything was reversed, but it was also filthy. Worse – instead of finding my husband, I found a horrifying, twisted, old man. His back was hunched, his teeth and nails were yellow, and his red face contorted in hatred.

I was frozen with fear as his icy gaze bore into my soul. “What the hell do you think you’re doing here?!” He screamed, spit flying from his mouth.

In my terror, I couldn’t remember if it was against the rules to talk to anyone besides your reflection, but I didn’t want to risk it. I took a few steps to my left, hoping to get to the door before he could block my exit.

“Don’t you dare ignore me, tramp!” The old man croaked in a raspy, hoarse voice. He reached under the table, retrieving a long, metal cane. Thankfully he was slow as he looked.

I ran around him, through the swinging door to the den. He was still cursing me as I continued out the front door. At the end of the driveway, I noticed my surroundings. The neighborhood was in ruins; the yards were dead, and the houses were all abandoned.

It was my neighborhood, but it looked like a ghost town. None of the cars worked; each one had busted windows, popped hoods, or slashed tires. It was midnight back home; it should have been noon there, but it looked like dusk. I understand why our reflections are so desperate to trade places.

For some reason I felt confident the old man wouldn’t follow me outside. Something gave me the idea his part of the game was to guard that kitchen door for when I needed to get home. I didn’t stay to test the theory, but now I’m pretty sure I was correct.

I was never told where to go once I made it this far; the stories were all vague in that regard. The only thing I knew for certain was that it would get worse before it was over. That’s when I realized how desperately I needed a working vehicle, for speed and protection.

I resigned myself to look for a bicycle when I remembered the mechanic who lives three houses down. Every weekend, his garage door is open, and he can be seen working on an old car. It was hardly more than a body and wheels last time I saw it. If everything is opposite… wouldn’t that car be in working condition here? Yes! It was. The damn thing made me truly believe I could do it.

Hope is dangerous. If something is too good to be true, it probably is. I was so excited by the sight of the pristine, red car, I forgot to be wary of danger. A strange creature I almost mistook for a dog stood between me and victory. It was of similar size and color to a German Shepard, but its mouth opened sideways to reveal extra rows of teeth. I don’t know if its eyes were located elsewhere or it just didn’t have any, but the ears looked hard, almost like rounded horns. I couldn’t discern a nose either, but I’m sure it had one; I could hear it sniffing my scent.

It gave me a headache to look too closely, like my brain was rejecting the very sight of it. My eyes frantically searched for anything to use as a weapon, but there was nothing nearby. My heart sank as I realized it would come down to a race I held no chance of winning. Stealing a quick glance at my surroundings, I saw the only chance was to run for the door and hope it’s unlocked. Otherwise, I would be eaten by a dog monster.

I tried to mentally prepare myself when a long, high-pitched whistle turned the creature’s growls to whimpers. It wasn’t pleasant to my ears either, but I enjoyed seeing its effect. The noise continued until the dog-thing ran out of sight. I didn’t see the source of the sound at first, but I didn’t have to wait long.

My reflection walked into view, smiling proudly. She stopped several feet away but remained silent. I was confused until I almost asked why! My mouth opened wide, froze, then slowly closed. She hoped I would talk without thinking. Plus, if I die this quick, she can’t escape. In her own way, she’s more terrifying than the monsters.

“Uh-oh, almost had you that time, haha! You might want to find yourself a weapon before you run into anything else. Hey, do you even know which way to go?” She spoke like we were best friends.

I was too afraid to shake my head or shrug; it seemed like the kind of place that thrived on loopholes. Instead, I stared at her feet, willing her to say a direction so I could go the opposite way.

“You look lost, do you need a map? I could draw one for you… come on, just nod or something; I’m trying to help!” She stomped her foot in frustration.

To me, that was confirmation about the loopholes… or maybe she could read my mind. Either way, I wasn’t trying it.

“Be that way! I don’t care if you want to live or not, but it’s a shame the kid has to die just because you won’t ask for help.” She shrugged and began walking away.

Those words hit me like a freight train at the time, but now that the words carry the added weight of truth, I feel as if they will crush me. Controlling my temper as she left was one of the most difficult parts of that nightmare. So many times, I wondered if punching her counted as communication, but John’s life was not worth the risk. That is when I vowed to break every mirror I saw for the rest of my life. A vow I have thus far made good on.

When she was well out of sight, I discovered my next obstacle would be to find keys. The car was locked, but the house was not. Knowing something would be inside, I took a large crowbar from the garage. I crept in the back door, staying low. I was in an empty kitchen, hoping for a nice key-hook by the door, but couldn’t be so fortunate.

The room smelled of the rotten food on every counter and flies were swarming something that looked like raw meat. I choked down the vomit threatening to erupt and focused on John. This experience was nothing compared to the idea of losing him.

I made my way into a den with a broken tv and rough-looking leather furniture. From where I stood, a recliner was directly in front of me with a couch on either side, all angled toward the television in the center. Small, dirty tables sat on each end of the couches, and my heart skipped a beat when I saw car keys atop one by the recliner.

Forgetting my fear, I reached down quickly, only to scream myself hoarse when a cold, skeletal hand shot out from the chair, grasping my wrist. It had a grip of steel; for a moment I thought it would break my arm. I lashed out desperately with the crowbar, making contact with whatever was on the other side of that recliner. The instant its grip released, my hand closed around the keys, and I ran for the car.

It was pure luck the dog-monster hadn’t returned, because I didn’t stop to check before flying outside. As soon as the car door closed, I hit the lock button three times and performed a thorough inspection of the back seat. Satisfied there were no unexpected passengers, I was ready to go. There was a horrific moment of fear the car still wouldn’t start as I inserted the key, but it roared to life like it was brand new. Hell, it probably was.

It really is just like King’s Quest. Find a clue, find an item, solve a puzzle, escape danger, advance, repeat to the boss fight. Careful Elle, your nerd is showing. Look at me, I made a joke. Never thought that would happen again.

I went to the end of the driveway and hit the brakes, realizing I didn’t know which way to go. In a game, when there’s multiple paths, they usually all come out to the same place… or one is a deadly trap with no escape. Of course, you usually know your destination…

That’s when it hit me! If I’m playing a game where the goal is to cure a sick boy, where would the boss fight take place? A hospital! You would want the best doctor with the best equipment! I turned left, toward the best hospital in the state. When John was born, we moved three hours away from our hometown to be near it. Fifteen minutes away was the closest residence we could find, and it seemed good at the time, but now it felt like hours.

I didn’t know what the roads would be like, but I knew it wouldn’t be good. I could have never imagined the level of destruction as I saw that day. Our normally smooth, paved streets were filled with large potholes, some big enough to get stuck in if I wasn’t careful. The buildings were in various stages of demolition; none looked to be inhabited, but I’m sure they were. The beautiful plants and trees that once lined the medians were brown and dead.

I kept careful watch on my surroundings, worried something would come charging from a dark alley as I slowly steered around potholes. Luckily, it only happened once, close to the halfway point. I was preparing for another tight squeeze when I heard a scraping sound from behind. In the rear-view mirror, I saw another deformed-looking man. This one was younger with long, greasy hair and burned skin. The sound was from the steel bat he was dragging, and one of those weird dog-monsters tagged along like his pet.

If the roads were decent, I could outrun them easily, but I knew they would catch me if I drove into the middle of that bad patch. I slowed down even more, letting them get a little closer to the decent section of the road. I don’t think they are capable of intelligent thought; they did not hesitate when I began reversing, nor did they make any attempt to move when I ran them down. I aimed for the man, considering him the main threat, but the beast was only stunned.

There was a moment I thought it was over when the car stalled on top of the corpse, but the wheels found traction when the beast collided with the rear-end. I’m not sure how he avoided going under the wheels as I flew backwards, but it wasn’t touched. I shifted into drive and punched the gas, trying once more for the dog-monster but still missing.

Going fast as I dared, I ran over the man once more… just to be sure… before coming to a cautious stop. I hated not knowing what the dog-thing was doing but felt fairly certain it ran away to lick its wounded pride. I didn’t doubt I would see it again, but that was a problem for later.

I made it to the hospital without further attacks, parking in front of the main entrance. The sight of it did not inspire confidence. It was in worse condition than anything I had seen yet. That’s when I realized I made a terrible mistake. Everything is opposite… the best hospital would be the worst. I needed our world’s worst hospital.

I jumped back into the car, making my way to the free clinic on 3rd. If my theory was right, it would probably hold the cure for cancer. A flock of zombie birds attacked the car at one point, but they didn’t cause much damage.

I knew I’d made the right decision the moment I entered the bad side of town… well our world’s bad side. In this world, it was full of lavish manors; the clinic was immaculate and double its normal size. I parked on the curb and ran for the entrance. It was starting to get darker, but I didn’t understand how. There should have been hours of daylight left. Then, once again, as if reading my mind, the Bitch was back.

“Gosh, are you just now getting here? You better hurry; time is running out fast.” She teased.

I had never heard of a time limit. I ached to taunt her with the obvious failures to deceive Thomas. If she was still there, it meant she couldn’t fool him; the thought filled me with strength. I turned my back on her and walked inside, but she followed.

“You know that right? That when it gets dark – the hourglass stands empty? Well, not literally, but I like the expression. Anyway, I just wanted to check, because it seems like most people from your world are ignorant to that detail.” She said nonchalantly.

The more I considered it, the more it made sense. Most games do have time limits… and being in this place after dark does have a sort of “game over” vibe. Unfortunately, I couldn’t ask questions and I had to keep moving. I thought she would leave again, but she continued to follow at a careful distance.

“Don’t mind me, I just want to see the big climax. Your sweetie was too smart, there’s no point chatting with him anymore.”

I didn’t give her the satisfaction of looking back. Seeing a map of the hospital, I stopped to study the layout. Of course, I needed the top floor. It couldn’t be right here on the ground floor, no, heaven forbid. I walked to the elevator, but noticed my reflection was gone. The doors chimed and slid open, I put one foot inside, but pulled it out quickly.

Did I really want to walk into a metal box in a bizarro world where there’s no one to help if I get trapped inside? I looked around and saw a nice, open stairway. The empty elevator closed behind me as I made my way to the stairs. I held onto the rail all the way up – losing because of a fall so late in the game would be too insulting to live with. I’m glad I did too, because my reflection jumped out screaming, “boo” the moment I reached the top.

I wonder if anyone has tried to murder their reflection… I’ll have to look into that one day. I held my crowbar at the ready as I passed her, it felt glued to my hand after so much time. My reflection was tailing me a little closer, getting desperate, I’m sure. When I reached the reception desk for the children’s ward, she took a seat in the waiting area.

She grinned when she saw me watching, giving me two thumbs up and a wink. “You go girl! I’m rooting for you!”

More confused than ever, I went through the double-doors in search of the doctor… or Mirror Master I guess… terrible name. They had no imagination back in the day. I would have named him the Greedy Gremlin… okay maybe that’s not much better, but it is better.

He wasn’t hard to find. I stood in a dark hallway and bright lights shone under the swinging doors ahead. I’d come too far to stop then. I could feel my heart thumping in my ears with every step. When I walked into the light, it was so bright I had to shield my eyes. Then, with the snap of someone’s fingers, they faded to normal indoor lighting.

The only person in the room was the doctor I see on tv… the one on the ridiculous commercial with that annoyingly catchy tune. I can’t remember his name… you know, the really fat, bald guy with glasses? It’s not important, it wasn’t how he… she… it looked anyway. It threw me off though, and the surprise must have shown on my face.

“Ahh not what you were expecting? Me either. Who is this anyway?” The doctor asked, examining his own appearance.

“You… you don’t know who you are?” I stammered.

“Ugh, of course I know who I am, girl! I appear however one’s mind is comfortable seeing me… but it’s usually not… this.” He cringed.

“What, wait… how could…” I tried to ask.

“No, you aren’t here for magic lessons, and I don’t give them anyway. You came here because you want something desperately enough to risk your life for it. I find that utterly delicious, so tell me, what do you want.”

“You mean… I just tell you… and you, do it? I don’t have to… I don’t know, solve a riddle or kill a monster?” I couldn’t believe it could be so simple.

“Oh! I’m sorry! Was finding me too easy for you? Were my pets not vicious enough, my dear? Well, worry not! For next is the best part yet. The longer you are here, the darker it gets. The darker it becomes, the more pets you’re likely to see. Most of them are nocturnal, but they’ll be awake and ready for breakfast any moment now.” He was a lively talker; his voice was booming with pride and his hand gestures were all over the place.

I could only stand there, horrified and speechless.

“Come now, what’s your wish? Weren’t you listening? You should probably pick up the pace.” He grinned, and his teeth were no longer the normal teeth of the tv doctor, but sharp, brown fangs.

“My son is dying. I want you to cure him.” I tried to keep my voice steady.

“My, that’s a tricky one. Money, love, fame, – those things are easy; murder is the easiest, but life? That is very tricky indeed. It disrupts the natural order.” He was enjoying himself.

“Please, I’ll do anything.” I begged.

“Well… there is this one way it could work… if, you’re sure; there is no turning back.” He paused, stretching the suspense until I vigorously shook my head in agreement.

“Very good then.” With a snap of his fingers, a scroll appeared in one hand and a pen in the other. It was the kind of pen you dip into ink, but I never saw one before that moment. “Sign here, please.” One flick of the wrist and the long scroll opened, falling to the floor between us.

I picked up the bottom end, eyes scrolling over the millions of tiny, printed words jammed together on the paper. At the very end was a “sign here” line.

“If I sign this, it’ll cure my baby? He will be in – and stay in – perfect health?” I would not see my son cured of one sickness only to fall ill the following week.

“Absolutely! In fact, with this contract, your boy will be immune to all disease.” He assured.

My heart sang at the words, and if the cost of saving John happened to be my own life – as I suspected – it was a price I’d happily pay. I reached for the pen, and with a stab too fast for my eyes to see, the doctor pricked my finger. A large drop of blood fell onto the paper, and with another snap, the contract vanished.

“It’s been a pleasure doing business! By the way, to cure your son, I had to borrow half his father’s remaining lifespan. Tootles.” The doctor disappeared with a final wink. I hope I never see his wretched face again.

His words made my blood run cold, but I couldn’t stop to do math right then. Terrified of what would be chasing me, I ran back to the waiting room area. My reflection was waiting for me at the doors, smiling. I shoved on the doors with all my strength, but she had me locked in. I used my adrenaline to smash the glass door to the reception counter with my crowbar.

My arms and legs were cut getting through, but I didn’t have time to worry about blood loss. I flew over the counter, ignoring the shocked look of my reflection. As I made my way down the stairs, I saw several more zombie-looking people coming out of various rooms. I almost didn’t make it back to the ground floor when a kid with no legs managed to grab my ankle. The only thing that saved me was the crowbar catching the rail I tumbled.

When I finally made it to the entrance, I saw the car was turned onto its side and several more zombie and dog-things were waiting close by. Remembering the hospital map, I decided to take a chance on the ambulance bay. I was betting they owned at least one junked out ambulance that would run in this world. If they didn’t, I would likely have died there. Not even someone with machine guns could survive on the streets now.

I cried when I saw it. There was one ambulance that appeared in working condition and I was lucky enough for the keys to be inside. I still checked in the back to make sure it was empty, but that almost got me killed too. I slammed the back doors just in time to avoid one of the dogs jumping in. The ambulance rocked side to side from things trying to get in as I strapped myself into the driver’s seat.

It was my first time driving anything bigger than a car; I think it would have been a bumpy ride under normal conditions. There were several times I thought the ambulance would tip over. The worst was close to the end. I was almost back in my neighborhood when I heard the roar of another engine before it crashed into my bumper. I went off road, missing a huge crater by inches, before regaining control.

The truck driven by my reflection reversed to follow. I did something desperate. I waited for her to get right behind me, almost touching, and accelerated. As I hoped, she too sped up, trying to position herself to force me into a fishtail. At the last possible second, I closed my eyes and swerved away, once again coming dangerously close to flipping over.

Behind me, the Bitch couldn’t react in time. The truck she found was pointed nose down in a deep crater, its back end hanging out at a steep angle.

My house was surrounded by hideous creatures. Most didn’t appear human or animal. I couldn’t tell what the warped things were supposed to be. Some of them had several limbs… or appendages… some had none. One looked like a huge floating eyeball, and another looked like a snake with two heads. I didn’t see a way inside; I couldn’t believe I came all this way just to lose here. At the very least, I wanted to kill as many as possible before I died. That’s when a plan occurred to me.

I reversed to position myself for a straight shot through our den. The house was now termite infested anyway; even if we didn’t have the huge windows, I’m sure the walls would have been weak enough to drive through. I felt like I was operating a tank as two of the creatures fell beneath the wheels. It was a strange sight as the walls crumbled around me, and the sound was terrible, but I didn’t stop to enjoy the view.

When the ambulance couldn’t go farther, I climbed out the passenger window and dove through the kitchen door without looking to see what followed. The moment I saw the kitchen, my eyes searched for the old man, but he saw me first. Pain blossomed behind my eyes as something struck me over the head. I fell to the ground, dazed, but managed to keep a grip on the crowbar. I feigned unconsciousness until the old man grabbed one of my ankles. I sat up, swinging wildly, and enjoyed the wet smack of contact. His black blood sprayed, and I wasted no time getting to my feet.

As I made it to the exit, more creatures burst into the room. I rushed through the door, hoping it locked behind me. I held my breath as the door shook furiously, but nothing was able to follow. I breathed a sigh of relief and began feeling my injuries in earnest. I had several deep gashes on my arms and legs, my head was bleeding freely, and my wrist was swelling.

Grateful to still have the armband, I began making my way to the mirror entrance. I only made it a few steps when I heard the soft click of another door behind me.

“I hope you didn’t expect to be rid of me that easily.” Her voice no longer sounded like mine. It was deeper, distorted.

I turned to see she now had the same ghoulish-zombie appearance as those other things. Did she always look that way? Did I only see me because that’s what I expected? Like the doctor? I hope someone solves the mysteries of that place one day. There are still so many unanswered questions.

I ran for my life, focused on Thomas and John. I heard her footsteps gaining as she screamed at me. “Have you figured it out yet? Wait up, I’ll explain it to you! If you divide the lifespan in half, it means they have the same amount of time to live! Do you get it? Wait up!” She cackled an evil, dark, laugh. It sounded unnatural in her garbled voice. Humans should not be able to make the sounds her laughter made.

I was so focused on the light at the end of the corridor, I didn’t understand what she was telling me. I heard her footsteps closer with every step but couldn’t look back. Her howling laughter followed me all the way home. When Thomas saw me, his eyes lit up with relief, then fear and anger as he saw my appearance and that of the thing chasing me. I saw him step away from the mirror, allowing me to exit.

I went through the mirror like an Olympic diver. The second I was out, I turned to see Monster-Me collide into the glass, bouncing off like rubber. Now that I was back, the doorway was closed for her. Before she could rise, Thomas shattered the glass. He also shattered the second one to be safe, but for the record, we could have simply blown out the candles and erased the pentagram.

It wasn’t until several hours later, after I explained everything to my husband, that we understood what she was trying to tell us. If they had the same amount of time to live; they would die at the same time. I was devastated. I knew I wouldn’t be able to handle losing both at once. We are so young… I thought we would still have many years… I never dreamed… I couldn’t believe…

Thomas and John passed away two weeks later. John was crying in the night; Thomas felt badly for my lack of sleep… so he took the baby for a drive. It calmed John… and it was only a few times around the block… but this time a drunk driver ran a stop sign.

See? It was all for nothing.


My mother met my father four years later. It took a while for her to have a normal life again, but I always felt like we were a happy family. She was a terrific mom; I had no idea such terrible things were in her past. Dad didn’t know the full story either; only that she had a husband and baby killed in a wreck before he met her. I can’t blame her for not wanting to tell me, she knows how much I love a challenge.

While no, I don’t think I’ll visit the Mirror World anytime soon, it would be nice to learn more about it. Like she says, there’s still so much we don’t know, and personally, I have a long list of questions. Besides, it sounds fine if you don’t make a wish, right? I’ll just leave this here for now in case anyone else knows anything.


Part 2

Horror Fiction

Magic Mortimer

Now a CreepyPasta. 

I need help with my nephew, Nicky. The kid is eight, and he’s been doing magic tricks since he saw the Amazing Howard perform at his fifth birthday. It was cute at first, but it started to get a little annoying as the years passed. He wears his cape everywhere, and if you try to make him take it off, get ready for a tantrum. I won’t take him swimming anymore, it’s just too embarrassing.

His father, whoever the hell he is, has never been in the picture. My sister, Gina, is a single mother at her wits end working two jobs just to pay bills. I work from home doing tech support – meaning I babysit often – but I don’t know how to explain any of this to her.

When Nicky first started learning magic, it was all the basics. He separated interlocking rings, had a wand with flowers inside, he even tied his never-ending-tissues together for an impressive display. Until yesterday, he was pretty terrible. His small, clumsy hands couldn’t master the smooth motions needed for the more delicate stunts. Hell, poor kid could barely get those rings separated. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had to vanish behind a couch, but I draw the line at being sawed in half.

I learned to stay vigilant with YouTube after I caught him trying to make my cat disappear in the microwave. I mean, no! He wasn’t trying to hurt her, and the cat is fine thankfully, but he didn’t have a rabbit. He thought she was a reasonable substitute as she’s roughly the same size. As for the microwave, it’s a “fancy box” capable of “fireworks”. Can you believe that little shit scamp put tinfoil in there? Luckily, I heard the hissing and arrived before he could get the door closed. I don’t think he’s going to repeat that mistake again, trust me.

I mean, I can’t complain too much. His magic obsession helped him forget Mortimer. What kid names their imaginary friend Mortimer?! Sorry, I’m getting ahead of myself. Let me just start at the beginning.

I’ve always considered myself a good aunt. I love him like a son, he always comes first, but Halloween is sacred to me. When Gina learned she would be out of town this year, I knew Nicky would expect the traditional day of cartoons and candy his mother always provided – despite knowing I had my own important routines. That’s how kids work.

I knew if I took him to the haunted corn maze after trick-or-treating he might have a nightmare, but I thought it was a risk worth taking. It was my last chance to go, and no one else could babysit. I know the mazes are overrated, but sue me, I love cheesy.

Nicky the Magnificent would be performing on a sugar high that night and I wanted to treat myself first. Is that a crime? Seriously, I’m asking… because that kid came out of there all kinds of throwed. Plenty of kids his age went! It was a normal set up! Cheap decorations, costumed teenagers, you can’t get more basic.

Nicky is a sensitive kid, “stick with me” I said. “They won’t come close if you’re with an adult.” I promised.

“Are you sure?” He worried.

“Positive. If they get near you, I’ll give ‘em a mama-bear-glare that’ll have them pissing their pants.” I assured.

His high-pitched giggles meant the negotiations were won. Everything would have been fine if he listened, but no! I knew I should have put one of those leashes on him, I really did. When we finished trick-or-treating, I checked his candy so he could eat on the way to the cornfield. I thought if I kept him happy, I could enjoy the maze with minimal distraction. When there’s a kid involved, silence is never a good thing.

I took Nicky’s hand as we walked under the grim reaper’s scythe marking the maze’s entrance. He made a quiet sound, but it was more disgust than fear. How I played a part in raising a little boy who doesn’t like monsters, I’ll never understand.

We did fine for the first twenty minutes. Freddy, Jason, and Michael were cool enough to keep a respectable distance when I gave the universal “please no, my kid’s a crier” signal. Nicky even started to have fun when he discovered the dry ice. Smoke machines would never satisfy him again.

As I explained why he wasn’t allowed to touch the dry ice, a pair of hands covered my eyes, and I was almost knocked over by a sudden weight. “What the…”

“Guess who.” The voice playfully whispered into my ear.

Excited, I gave her a quick spin before she jumped off. “Emma! I thought you wouldn’t be back until tomorrow!”

“I know, I wanted to surprise you… and make sure you weren’t hanging out with any… unsavory characters.” She hugged me, utilizing her best puppy-eyes to radiate innocence.

“Yes, because I’ve spent the last year of my life convincing you to move in with me just so I can cheat on you the day before it finally happens.” I smiled, trying not to be annoyed; she was still suspicious of my ex.

“I’m not worried about you, but… you never know what that bitch is going to do. Besides, I have enough competition with this magic-man!” She ended the conversation by engaging with Nicky. “Hey little man, did you miss me?”

“Aunt Emma, did you see?” He pulled her over to the dry ice, telling her everything I taught him moments before as if he’s known for years.

She indulged his every word. “I do! We should get some for tonight’s act!” All her paranoid insecurities paled in comparison to how good she was with the kid.

Well, to be fair, she isn’t completely paranoid. Emma’s ex cheated on her their entire relationship. I try to be patient, but how many years does it take to prove myself?

“Come on, kiddo. I’m ready for movie time.” I tried to shut it down right there. I was ready to walk away and never look back. Another few turns and we could have been at the exit, but no.

“Aw, but I wanna see more decorations!” Nicky whined, completing the brat cliche by suddenly enjoying that which he hated thirty minutes ago.

I opened my mouth to argue but Emma spoke first. “Oh come on, let’s just finish the tour.” She grabbed my hand, pulling me away from the exit.

Ten minutes later, we were examining a scarecrow display when a voice called from behind us. “Hey Nicky! I thought you didn’t like spooky stuff!”

Emma’s nails dug into my arm as Becky approached our small group. We couldn’t just leave when I wanted. Nicky abandoned the decor to hide behind me. Which is where I assumed he would stay.

“We were just leaving.” I said, trying for a quick escape.

“Oh. I thought you came this way on purpose. Didn’t you know the exit was a left after the jack-o-lanterns?” Becky slurred, confirming she was already three shots past tipsy.

“Geez, how long have you been following us, stalker?” Emma sneered.

“Don’t get your granny panties in a wad. If you really want to know, I was looking for my date.” Becky snapped.

“We haven’t seen anyone else, good luck.” I tried to walk away, but we were cornered. We couldn’t pass without physically bumping into Becky, and considering that’s what she wanted, I hoped to avoid it.

“You don’t have to be in such a rush. It’s pathetic how you let her control everything you do. Are you allowed to have any friends?” Becky was a world class tactician when it came to drama.

If I let the comment stand, Emma would be upset… or possibly kill her. Either way it would definitely ruin my night. I had to respond. “You being a toxic bitch has nothing to do with Emma!” I stood straight with my best poker face.

“I guess a slut like her has a lot of tricks to keep you in line, but don’t be surprised when you have no friends left. Have fun finding the dweeb.” Becky yelled, stomping toward the exit.

“I told you! It doesn’t take a genius to find you here!” Emma shook with fury.

I put my arm around her for comfort as Becky’s last words hit home. “What did she mean by…” I turned to check on Nicky and saw nothing but empty space. I looked around the small clearing, but he was gone.

“How could he… there’s nowhere to go. It’s just corn! Nicky?! Where are you?” Emma was equally confused.

“You know how he gets when people yell. He must have backed right in there. I didn’t even feel him let go of my shirt.” I examined the place he would have entered, trying not to panic as we continued calling his name. “It’s over now, buddy! The scary lady is gone!” We listened for a response.

“Let’s split up. He wouldn’t just wander through the corn, he must have cut through to another path.” Emma suggested confidently.

She went toward the exit while I retraced our steps through the maze. We stopped every employee along the way to inform them of a rogue eight-year-old magician who would wet his pants if they scared him. Several plain-clothed kids joined the search, but I became increasingly worried as five minutes turned to fifteen then thirty. We were on the phone with police when an employee reported he’d been found. Nicky was safe, waiting at the exit. Emma was there before me, but the family who found him were so upset they had already left.

A family of four were near the clown section when they heard voices. They couldn’t make out the words, but it sounded like children. The father stood on a haystack to see over the stalks, but they were at the maze’s end. Not knowing if kids were lost or goofing off, he called out to them.

The voices stopped suddenly, as if spooked. The father tried again, “you aren’t in trouble, we just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

There was no reply. Instead they heard the soft sobs of a small child. The father tried one last time, “are you hurt? Can you follow the sound of my voice?” But the weeping only grew louder.

Finally, the man walked into the corn. The moment he entered, the cries turned to screams and the corn began to shake wildly as if someone were running away. It only lasted a few seconds, then all fell silent. Moving on pure adrenaline, the man ran forward.

Almost thirty yards away, he found Nicky. The kid was alone, in the middle of all that corn. The man couldn’t coax him into speaking, but he was able to carry him out of there. After finding a staff member, the couple was understandably ready to get their own kids home.

Somehow, Nicky didn’t have a scratch, but his clothes were covered in filth. I wasn’t surprised he wouldn’t talk, he’s shy around strangers. After thanking everyone profusely I scooped him up and ran for it.

I talked the whole way home, but nothing earned a response. What surprised me more was his demeanor. If he were crying, angry, or frightened, I would understand. Those would be normal responses, but whatever this was… well. Before that moment, I would have bet my life he wasn’t capable of such… composure.

When we got home, he went straight to his room. “I’ve never seen him like this. It’s a little scary.” Emma shuddered.

“Me neither. That man said he heard voices and something big running away. Did someone try to snatch him?! Is that what happened?!” Being home made reality sink in, and I started to lose it.

“Don’t assume the worst, we don’t know what happened yet. All that matters is he’s safe and sound.” Emma steered me to the couch, turning the tv on to break the eerie silence. “Let’s give everyone a second to calm down. If he doesn’t come out, I’ll ask to be tonight’s amazing assistant.”

“That’s why you’re the smart one.” I laid my head on her shoulder and tried not to dwell on how painful Gina would make my death.

We sat there for almost thirty minutes before our patience depleted. Emma went to Nicky’s room attempting to initiate conversation while I hid in the hallway.

“Hey Nick-knack, you forgot your candy… but if you don’t want it, I’ll just leave it here.” I could imagine her holding the bag out and placing it on the desk when he wouldn’t accept. There was a long pause before she tried again. “So, I haven’t seen a performance all week. I was hoping I could be your assistant tonight!”

After another stretch of silence, she came out. Her expression a mixture of sadness and confusion. I rose quietly to follow her back to the den. “He wouldn’t even look at me… he just stood there, staring out the window. He’s still wearing those filthy clothes, too.” Emma nervously twirled her thick, red hair through her fingers. “I think tonight’s performance is officially canceled to say the least.”

“Gina’s going to kill me, you can keep the house when I’m gone.” It’s strange the things you think when frightened.

“I don’t think we should worry her while she’s a thousand miles away. Let’s see how he feels tomorrow.” Emma reasoned.

“She’ll know the second she hears my voice…” I felt utterly defeated. My brain was incapable of formulating coherent thoughts.

“Give me your phone. I’ll send pictures from trick-or-treating with a message about how tired you are. When she calls, she’ll think you fell asleep.” Emma looped her arm through mine as she began texting.

I waited for her to press send. “It’s scary how good you are at lying.” I whispered.

“I’m not lying! I’m just going to omit a few scary facts that serve no purpose other than…” Emma’s words were cut off as she screamed into my ear.

“Holy…” I started as we both jumped to our feet.

I followed her shocked gaze to the hallway behind me. My heart skipped a beat when I saw Nicky standing in the dark shadows just outside his door. “I’m sorry bud, you surprised me! I didn’t hear you come out.” Emma’s face flushed to match her hair.

Nicky didn’t move or speak, he simply stood in the darkness, glaring at us. “Are you trying to scare me? If you are, you need to stop now… okay? This kind of fear is not fun, Nicolas. Do you hear me?” The stern parent voice wasn’t usually part of my cool-aunt routine, the words felt dirty on my tongue.

Never let them smell your fear. If they sense weakness, they will pounce. Gina’s first parenting lesson repeated in my mind. Drawing on its strength, I tried again. “You get out here right now!” I stomped my foot for added flair.

Nicky remained motionless. If looks could kill, I would not be alive to beg for help now. I was prepared to drag him out, but as I stepped forward, he returned to his room. He went calmly, without a care in the world. I intended to follow, but Emma held me back. “You better change out of those dirty clothes right now! Don’t you dare get mud on those sheets, young man!” I screamed at the closed door.

“Wait, maybe we should see what he does… he might go to sleep. If he’s not better by morning we can take him to a doctor.” She suggested.

“And say what?!” I snapped. “My nephew disappeared into a corn maze and now his vocal cords are broken? … I am so sorry, I didn’t mean to yell at you.” I sank into the couch, defeated.

After a slight hesitation she sat. “It’s okay, but for the record, I meant a psychologist. It might be good for him anyway… you know, just in general.”

I choked down the anger, keeping my voice level and soft. “I know you aren’t wrong. I just can’t shake this feeling of… dread. Like something terrible happened.”

“No matter what happens, all we can do right now is wait. Do you still want your horror movie marathon?” Emma flinched, and it made me feel terrible.

“I may have lost my taste for those.” I whispered.

Leaving the tv alone entirely, we held each other in silence until we ignored Gina’s call. She would already kill me for breaking her son – delaying her knowledge one more day would hardly make a difference. Emma and I fell asleep entangled on the couch and didn’t wake until 7am.

Emma rushed to prepare for work as I tip-toed to Nicky’s room. His filthy clothes were piled in the hallway. I cracked his door enough to see his sleeping form and quietly retreated.

After tossing his clothes into the wash, I updated Emma. “See, I bet he’s fine now!” She sighed with relief.

After she left for work, I busied myself with chores while waiting for Nicky to wake. I kept him home from school, not wanting kids to have another reason to label him as different if he wasn’t a hundred percent. It was close to nine when I heard the soft click of his door. I stayed in the kitchen, heart racing as I listened to his approach. He slowly walked to the table and took his usual seat. Once settled, he initiated a new staring contest.

Frustration, terror, and regret formed a heavy ball of lead in my stomach. “You’re still giving me the silent treatment?” I kept my voice neutral.

“I wish to eat. Please.” His voice came out eerily monotone, but the look of loathing was gone. Now his face was the picture of indifference.

I prepared a bowl of cereal while deciding what to say. “I know you’re upset, but if you don’t tell me what happened, I don’t know how to help.” Placing the bowl before him, I found myself holding my breath.

“I lost my way for a moment. I am sorry to have caused any inconvenience.” He answered in the same creepy monotone. Inflection aside, it was unsettling to hear the strange choice of words flow effortlessly from his mouth.

It was time for the moment I truly feared. “Did someone try to make you go with them last night? It’s really important you tell me the truth on this, bud. I promise, you aren’t in trouble.” My words were slow, it felt like I was speaking underwater.

It was the longest pause of my life. I felt every heartbeat’s prominent thump in my throat as I waited. “A rude adolescent chased me, but Mortimer scared him away.”

The brief feeling of relief was violently ripped away as I understood what he was telling me. “Oh… so Mortimer is back, huh? That’s umm. That’s cool, bud. We haven’t seen him around in quite a while now!”

I watched him walk to the den. I knew I should follow, but I was frozen. Mortimer first came around when Nicky was in kindergarten, but he wasn’t a nice friend like kids usually invent. Mortimer was a defense mechanism against bullies and the reason we had to switch to a private school.

I decided to kill Mortimer with kindness. I joined Nicky on the couch, relieved to see he was enjoying one of the old David Copperfield recordings. “Do you want to practice a new act before Emma comes home? Maybe Mortimer can help.”

Just as I thought he wasn’t going to answer, he surprised me. “I don’t need to practice anymore.”

“Why’s that?”

“Mortimer can share his magic with me.” He explained as if I were the child.

“Right, silly me. Do you think you could give me a sneak peek?” I asked.

Again, just as I thought I wouldn’t get a response, he surprised me. Rising to his feet, he extended both palms to show me their emptiness. One hand slowly reached up, and I felt a slight tickle as his fingers brushed my ear. He held the coin out for my inspection, face still completely blank. The trick was flawless, his first success at the “coin behind your ear”, but he looked as if it was the thousandth. I didn’t know which to be more surprised by, his ability or the reaction.

“That was amazing! I’m so proud!” I wanted to ask how he finally mastered it, but feared upsetting him. Last time someone contradicted Mortimer’s existence, a classmate got twelve stitches. Hence being forced to change schools. “Can I see another one?” I asked instead.

I don’t believe I’ll ever be able to describe the absolute horror I felt at his next stunt. I still shake at the thought.

Without standing, Nicky removed his top hat, wand waving. I forced myself to breathe as he reached deep inside, almost to his shoulder. When he withdrew his hand, he held a white, fluffy bunny. I leapt from my seat, stuttering nonsense.

Remaining infuriatingly silent, Nicky set the rabbit aside and turned his attention back to Copperfield. Realizing I came to rest in a squatting position, I slowly rose to peer over the couch arm. The bunny we did not own was still there, looking incredibly real and curiously well behaved.

I carefully reached out to pet it, jumping a little at the soft, smooth fur beneath my fingers. I sent a picture to Emma before picking it up. “I’m very impressed. I’m going to get our new friend some lettuce, I’ll be right back, okay?” My voice cracked, but I’m almost certain he didn’t notice.

I retreated from the eight-year-old with no shame. I set the bunny next to the fridge with a handful of lettuce while I found the Whiskers’ carrier. I didn’t know what else to do, but it seemed content. I tried to explain what happened over text, but Emma didn’t believe me. She thought I finally lost my mind, and I can’t blame her. Her only response was, “I’m coming home right now.”

Thirty minutes later she was inspecting the bunny for herself. “Magic isn’t real, babe. He must have found it somewhere. Maybe it’s the neighbor’s pet.” Emma guessed.

“You didn’t see him when he did it. He wasn’t proud or excited, he didn’t even smile! It was disturbing how… old… he seemed. Come on, you have to see.” I insisted.

“Hey Nick-knack, I missed you so much I had to leave work early.” She dropped onto the couch, putting her arm around him as she spoke.

“Welcome home, Auntie.” Nicky answered without looking at her.

“I heard you had some new tricks; can I see one?”

I found myself taking a few steps back, wanting more distance between myself and whatever else was in that hat. I had to fight an urge to pull Emma away from him, and I felt a guilty pang at my desire to see Gina return. Nicky reached deeply into the hat once again, but this time he found roses. Real ones.

The look on Emma’s face told me she was beginning to understand. “Thank you, that was so good! I’m going to put these in some water. Babe, can you help me find a vase?”

“Yea, no problem.” I answered, following her to the kitchen.

“What the actual—” She began.

“I know, that’s what I was trying to say.” I set the vase next to the bunny, grateful the roses would be easier to tend.

“What do we do? I don’t think I want to see any more magic tricks for a while.”

“I don’t know. I’m afraid to talk about it when he might hear us. It’s lunch time. Let’s feed him and hope he won’t do any more tricks if we don’t ask.” It was the only idea I could think of, so that’s what we did. It worked well until 8:00.

We almost made it to his bedtime without incident, but Nicky had a sudden mood swing when the last Copperfield tape ended. As if someone flipped a switch, he leapt to his feet, taking a sweeping bow, hat in hand.

He used his performance voice like the last twenty-four hours never happened. “Attention, Attention! Tonight, Nicky the Magnificent and Mortimer the Malevolent will give you the thrill of a lifetime! But first, I’ll need a volunteer from the audience.

So many things went through my mind at that moment. My brain fought to believe the kid confused the words malevolent and marvelous but couldn’t quite pull it off. If I had time to think, I would have shut the whole thing down, but I didn’t. Emma was standing, prepared to volunteer as she had so many times before, but I couldn’t let her.

I instinctively pulled her back, rising to take her place. She sat down without argument but clearly confused. “Where do you want me?” My voice was surprisingly steady.

“Step right this way! Into the Amazing Closet of Curiosities!” Nicky led me to the coat closet, and I had to acknowledge the humor in believing he would suddenly have a real disappearing cabinet as well.

He pushed the coats aside and gestured for me to enter. The door closed and I felt foolish at my sudden fear of the dark. “Now I will say the magic words, and my lovely assistant will vanish. After sixty seconds, I will say the return incantations, and she will reappear. Are you ready?”

The magic words sounded impressively like flawless Latin. I couldn’t repeat them here even if I were willing. When Nicky said the last words, all fell completely silent and I realized he was giving me time to hide. I felt in the darkness, looking for a coat to cover myself, but felt nothing around me.

There is a place beyond fear. A place so foreign you lose all ability to process the primal emotion. My theory is the brain enters a state where it doesn’t bother with fear due to the certainty its circumstances are fabricated. That was my experience as I felt the ice-cold concrete beneath me.

I used my phone’s flashlight to check my surroundings and immediately wished I waited the sixty seconds in darkness. It was a literal collection of curiosities. I was somehow standing in the most disturbing, macabre museum in history.

In front of me stood a large showcase filled with jars, all containing various organs. Human or otherwise, I have no idea. Everywhere I looked was isle after isle of similar displays and torture devices. The walls were covered in framed photographs of history’s darkest moments. I saw graphic images from every war, work of every serial killer, and worse, all displayed like famous artwork.

Then I heard loud, lumbering footsteps. I wanted to run, but my feet wouldn’t cooperate. I began counting, desperate to know how many seconds remained or if I would really return. The footsteps grew closer, louder, until finally I squeezed my eyes shut, too afraid to look. The sound died instantly and I pictured a faceless monster standing before me.

“Tada!” Nicky yelled, throwing open the door. “I’m sorry you didn’t have time to meet Mortimer, do you want to try again?”

I opened my eyes to the bright lights of the den and the cold, insidious look in my nephew’s eyes. Emma rushed past him, her face full of concern. She pulled me to my feet and away from the closet. Before we made it to the safety of our bedroom, I already decided the thing would be sealed shut. There was nothing irreplaceable in there.

“Are you okay?! What the hell was that? You were gone!” I could barely make out her words as she cried into my shoulder.

I told her everything, unable to hold it in. She didn’t doubt my story this time. “Promise me you’ll never do one of his tricks again! I couldn’t live with myself if you had to go through that.” I gently turned her face to meet my eyes, needing her to understand my desperation. She nodded agreement, unable to speak.

Refusing to let me out of her sight, Emma followed me back to the den, but Nicky was no longer there. Instead, we found him in his room, sleeping… or pretending to sleep. Either way, we couldn’t help feeling a wave of relief. We locked ourselves in the bedroom to talk about what we should do. The police would think we’re crazy if we tried to report this; that’s when we decided to try the internet.

Emma fell asleep hours ago and I’m exhausted, but it’s worth it to have this finished. I’m going to upload this and try to get a few hours of sleep myself. I’ll be back to check this in the morning. Any advice would be most appreciated.

—Scared4Nephew post submitted November 2nd, 2021 3:03am—

I want to start by saying thank you for all the support. Most of you have been incredibly kind, and I appreciate your words of encouragement. Emma is at work and Nicky is in school, so I have time to address a few comments. Don’t worry, I told his teacher he’s grounded from magic, everyone should be perfectly safe.

The most popular theory seems to be that Nicky is possessed. Whether Mortimer was always real or something else is using his name, I have no idea. During breakfast, I researched the cornfield as advised. It seems a house was built there in 1913, but it burned down three years later.

It is believed the wife, Patty Johnson, suffered at the hands of her abusive husband. One night, after a particularly bad beating, Patty drugged Earl’s food. After he passed out, she burned the house to the ground with both of them inside. A few years later, farmers bought the land for corn, but no one has lived there since the Johnsons.

No one was familiar with the museum of nightmares, but a few of you suggested these were images put in my mind opposed to a physical place. If that is so, the hallucinations were impressive with full five sensory immersion. Since I never intend to go there again, I hope it won’t matter.

MythosMania2632 sent detailed instructions on how to perform an at-home exorcism. It sounds a little complicated, but I don’t see another choice. Gina will be home this evening, and I cannot let her see Nicky this way. If all goes well, I should be able to exorcise the kid after school and have him back to normal before Emma is home.

I just need to do a little shopping and prepare a space in the basement. I can’t believe how many specific-colored candles are required… or that the chalk I use to draw the incredibly complicated symbol must be black. I hope chicken blood from the butcher is okay, I’m not sure where else to get it. I guess I should hurry, it may take longer than expected to finish preparations.

—Scared4Nephew post submitted November 2nd, 9:27am—

I never made it inside the first store! The school called as I pulled into Sam’s Club. “Parents must pick their children up immediately.” One of Nicky’s classmates, Trent something, has disappeared! Police are investigating, more updates to come. When I arrived, Nicky’s teacher loaded him into the backseat before walking around to the driver’s window.

“I don’t understand how it happened! They were taking turns going to the bathroom, you know, a few at a time, but… but Trent never came back. The other boys said he was still in the restroom when they left.” She was hysterical, eyes puffy from crying, then she whispered, “Nicky was the last to see him, make sure you keep a special eye on him… the poor dear seems to be in a bit of shock.”

Can you guys believe that? She didn’t suspect him in the least, hell, she was worried about him! Desperate to escape I thanked her for the warning and drove forward as she continued talking. I waited until we were safely away before speaking to Nicky. “What the hell did you do?!” I yelled.

“Nothing! Mortimer…” He began, but I cut him off.

“Fine! What did Mortimer do?! Just tell me! Because your little ass is bringing that kid right back! Do you understand me? You will not leave a third grader in that nightmare, I don’t care what he did to deserve it.” As spit flew from my flushed face, it occurred to me I could be the crazy one. What if none of this were real?

“Mortimer didn’t like Trent, it’s too late for him… and you better watch how you talk to me, or next time you’ll stay gone.” Nicky said in a voice too deep for an eight-year-old.

Some involuntary reflex still reacted to the sight of his tiny form threatening me. Without meaning to, I slammed on the brakes, throwing us forward into our seatbelts. I drove home more carefully after that, but it seems the damage was done. The moment we stepped inside, his little hands grabbed me from behind, and I found myself back in that museum of nightmares.

Everything was exactly as I left it except for one difference. Now I could see who the footsteps belonged to. “Mortimer” was sickly yellow, at least six foot five, and stick-thin with a bald, pointy head. His toothless grin made me nauseous as his tongue licked at his lips. His eyes were full black, and his nose was missing, leaving a wide, triangular hole in the center of his face. He let out a low, guttural laugh at the sight of me.

I made no conscious plans or effort for my actions, but somehow, I was able to speak despite my fear. “Leave my nephew alone, you can’t have him!” I yelled.

“Why would I give up such a fine specimen? He agreed to be mine fair and square, so desperate he was for a friend!” The thing laughed again, louder than before.

“He’s just a kid, he’s nothing. Take me instead, I agree! Fair and square as it were.” Can you believe it? When I read the comments about offering a trade, I immediately discounted them. Anything that didn’t provide the traditional fairytale ending was simply not an option. Yet here I was, offering my body as a vessel for some deranged monster.

Should I have been surprised he agreed? I was. Maybe that’s what he wanted all along. Maybe that’s how they get the adults, by preying on our young. I guess it doesn’t matter now, what’s done is done. I can feel him inside me, trying to influence my writing. He wants you all to come visit. He wants everyone to meet Mortimer the Malevolent, so you can all be part of our collection.

I’m afraid I need to go now, Emma is home. I can hear Nicky talking in hushed tones, I better go check on them. Thanks again for all your help, I couldn’t have done it without you.

Address listed below, no need to RSVP, bring your friends.

—Scared4Nephew post submitted November 2nd, 5:32pm—