Horror Fiction

Killers for Sale

🚧Trigger Warning for S. Assault🚧

If you prefer narrations, Nightmare’s Edge brought together a phenomenal cast for this one!!

The CreepyPasta



Welcome to the Sweet Mercy Web Auction! I hope everyone is having a wonderful night – or day, pending your time zone. Thank you for joining us! Please, do not be alarmed by our costumes – it’s important to conceal our identities in order to continue helping good people like yourselves. Here, at Sweet Mercy, we know you’ve been through hell, and I won’t waste your time by beating around the bush; our Product is killers. Our goal is to provide a semblance of closure to families who have suffered the ultimate tragedy. When a murderer is released on a technicality or police drop the ball – that’s where we come in. Once our investigators confirm the accused is guilty – our extraction team transports them to one of our secure facilities.

We eliminate the risk of unanswered questions by ensuring full, legitimate confessions are made beforehand, but don’t take my word for it – the complete series of interrogations is available for download at no cost to our special Guests. They make fantastic therapy aids!

Now, let me give you a quick rundown on site navigation. Obviously, our main video feed is in the center; the row of blue boxes beneath are you – our Guests – and the green row above it features an equal number of our returning Benefactors. On the right-hand side of your screen is where the bidding history will appear, and on the left you’ll see tonight’s Product along with his background information; he can see and hear us, too, haha. We find many Guests wish to confront them directly.

We understand most of you are unable to afford the auction, but we believe the victim’s families have a right to be here. Not only will each of you have free access to the winning Benefactor’s live-feed Saturday night – one lucky family will even be allowed to participate!

Ahh, that got you sitting a little straighter! You will each have a chance to tell us your story, and at the end there will be a short break while the Benefactors choose who they wish to sponsor; if your Benefactor has the highest bid – you get to visit our operation in person! Pun absolutely intended!

Tonight, we have thirty-four-year-old Carl Anthony Bateman. He was born in Boston, had an abusive childhood until leaving home at seventeen, and has been a burden on society ever since.

Between June and December of 2019, he brutally attacked four women. Tonight – two of those four women have families here to confront their killer, and our third Guest actually survived her terrifying ordeal!

Bateman’s first victim was Julie Edwards; she had just finished her Sophomore year of college. Benefactors, let’s hear what her parents have to say! Helen, Lawrence – you may begin when ready.

[Lawrence Edwards]

Umm, h-hello; I won’t pretend to understand any of this “dark web” mumbo… It took us four hours just to get this weird browser working. Last month, if someone had told me I’d be sittin’ on this thing bawling my story out to people wearing tribal masks – well… shit. Just listen to that sentence… But it’s worth every second to see that sorry som-bitch get his. Looks like he’s had a rough go of it, and we thank ya for that…

We thought your invitation was a scam – it sounds like the plot of some twisted movie, but I wouldn’t know how to tell one way or another. It certainly looks real, and right now maybe that’s enough… so long as you aren’t asking for money… I don’t think Helen is up to saying very much, but I can speak for the both of us when it comes to seein’ that bastard pay.

I’m glad he’s watching. Do you have anything to say, Bateman?!… No?… I didn’t think so… Hell, I wanted you taken alive so I could say something to you in court, but this is even better. Late at night, when we wish we had died with our baby – your suffering is what will lull us to sleep, and I’d love to be the one making you pay.

We’re from Tennessee; Julie was in Boston for college. We wanted her to come home for the summer, but she wanted to work and rent an apartment with one of her friends. Her roommate, Erin, was with her for part of that last night… June 14, 2019 was a Friday; they had gone to some bar with a few other girls… Apparently, they went there pretty often – their Instant Gram things were full o’ the place.

As the night went on, Julie’s so-called-friends left with various boys, and no one felt the need to make sure my daughter got home safely. I suppose that’s where this shitbag saw her—


I’m sorry to interrupt, sir, but according to our interrogations, you were misinformed on that detail. By Mr. Bateman’s own admission, he first saw Ms. Julie leaving campus two weeks prior to the night in question.

[Lawrence Edwards]

Guess I shouldn’t be surprised; those detectives certainly weren’t right about much. They couldn’t even collect the god-damn evidence without contaminating our only chance of finding the bastard. I imagine we’ve been told plenty of easy answers; why should police work for the truth when it’s usually the same story anyway? They don’t care what really happened – they only care what time they go home at night. I’m sorry if that ruffles any feathers; I know there’s good ones out there, but none of ‘em were working Julie’s case – that much is certain.

It was past midnight when cameras showed Jules leaving the bar. She preferred walking – her apartment was only a few blocks away… though, I suppose that part doesn’t matter if he already knew where she lived. The police said there was no forced entry… do you know how he got inside, sir?


He was able to make a copy of her key; Bateman entered the apartment shortly after their departure and hid inside the coat closet. It was his third time doing so, but Ms. Edwards wasn’t alone when she returned on the previous occasions. Once everyone was asleep, he was able to leave undetected.

[Lawrence Edwards]

Sick piece-of-shit!…

How can you be sure he was tellin’ the truth ?


Oh, he started with plenty of lies – they all do. Most information gathered during torture is false, but we’ve perfected our technique. While yes, our Guests enjoy seeing them suffer – it also breaks their spirit so they’re easier to manipulate when the real interrogations begin. We spare no expense to create a believable environment for the Product to think— Well, I’m not allowed to say that part…

You’ve probably seen a version of “truth serum” on tv, but real life is a little different; very specific conditions must be met for reliable results. We have a wonderful team of Psychologists and Physicians who explain it much more elegantly in the full video, and – at the end – they present you with a full, factual report. I assure you Mr. Edwards – I would never repeat anything that was less than 100% certain.

[Lawrence Edwards]

I think I understood most of that; so far you’ve been more reliable than the police, anyway. I’m sure we’ll be watching that video as soon as this is over… but as for what happened next… I, umm… whew, I don’t know if I can, uh… Julie was just such a sweet girl…

Why her? Huh, bastard – why her?! The autopsy report paints a detailed picture, but I’m starting to realize I didn’t know as much as I thought. I’m not sure if I can handle more, but I owe it to my baby to listen. She didn’t deserve this, and she sure as shit didn’t deserve to die alone. I want everyone to know what this pile of human waste did to get his rocks off; if it were up to me, I would make him feel exactly what his victims felt – step by step – stopping just before it killed him so I could do it over and over. Yea… I like the sound of that…

It wasn’t enough you blindsided her and tied her up – no, you had to go the extra mile! She wasn’t going to wear that costume voluntarily – certainly not for you! We were eventually told she was dressed like a character from a kid’s show called Sailor Moon. For some reason I felt compelled to look it up, and it left me even more confused. Apparently, it’s common to sexualize cartoon characters; what the hell is wrong with people?! I saw something titled SpongeBob Squirt Pants! I don’t care what consenting adults do to get their jollies, but you can’t tell me kids don’t see that stuff!

He strangled her when it was over; the bonds on her wrists and ankles tore her skin as she struggled to— when he was—

I-I’m sorry, I can’t… Can you… since you know more than us anyway, can you please just tell us what really happened that night?


Yessir, I can…

Minutes after she returned home, a call from Erin was placed on speaker while Julie stood only feet from the coat closet where Bateman was hiding. He would have figured it out anyway, but their conversation confirmed your daughter would be alone for the night.

Approximately thirty minutes later, the strip of light beneath the door went dark, and Bateman waited a few moments longer before quietly emerging from the closet. The apartment was dark except for a soft, yellow glow at the end of a hallway, and music could be heard playing over the sound of running water.

Julie didn’t hear the bathroom door open, and she didn’t see the shadow growing on the shower curtain; she only noticed Bateman’s presence when the curtain was violently ripped away. He left her no chance to react; as she opened her mouth to scream, he stepped forward, punching her across the jaw. Her head snapped backwards – impacting the tiles as she fell and leaving her unconscious.

Bateman moved her to the bed where he quickly dressed her as Sailor Moon before binding her hands and feet. The costume was purchased specifically for this occasion, and he took the time to style Julie’s long, blonde hair in the character’s likeness. She regained consciousness before his work was done, but she was unable to move due to the restraints. He ignored her cries until finished – then he gave her the same two options he would later present to his future victims; ‘play along and live, or try to escape and die.’ Julie was unfamiliar with Sailor Moon, but – seeing it as her only chance of survival, she chose to play along.

In the first scene, Bateman chose the role of Prince Demando for himself as—

[Lawrence Edwards]

Wait! I don’t know if we can hear that part right now… I— we can’t… After that… the autopsy listed her cause of death as asphyxiation… is that accurate? Did he force her to live through all of those horrible things only to choke her in the end?


Yes, I’m afraid so. Ms. Edwards was subjected to various role-playing scenarios for several hours before being strangled during the final… act.

[Lawrence Edwards]

I want to make that monster bleed; every single night, I dream of doing hideous, unspeakable things to him, and I’m disgusted by what he’s turned me into. You people have already given us more than we dared hope for; I don’t know what these other folks have been through, but even if we don’t get to be there in person – what you’ve done for us is more than enough. From the bottom of our broken and battered hearts, thank you.


Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Edwards; we know it isn’t easy to hear these things – especially from strangers – but you’re among people who understand this pain all too well. Each and every member of our team has been affected in a similar way; we take this work very seriously, and our main goal is to provide some semblance of comfort during these difficult times. Whether you find peace in knowing this man will never hurt another soul or simply in his harsh punishment makes no difference; we all grieve differently and heal at our own pace.

Benefactors! Are you ready to hear from our second Guest?

After committing his first murder, Bateman was overcome with paranoia, but when no detectives appeared at his door over the following weeks – that paranoia slowly turned into confidence. Then, on October 2nd, 2019, he decided to do it again. This time his victim was nineteen-year-old Natalie Laird. Tonight, her father and two brothers are here with us; Mr. Laird, you may begin when ready.

[Jason Laird]

… Dad?

Uh, hey everyone, I’m Jason, this is my brother Tony, and I don’t think Dad is as ready as he thought… Is it alright if I ask a question instead?

Thanks. I want to believe this is real, but how do we know that’s a live feed on Bateman? Or that you guys even have him? He hasn’t reacted to anything that’s been said; I want to see him hold up four fingers… without any “camera glitches”.



Mr. Bateman! We warned you about this! The young man is speaking to you!

Have it your way; Frank – one second contact, please.

My apologies, Mr. Laird. Carl’s microphone is muted, but the person you see entering the room is our head of security, and the device in his hand is a cattle prod; I’m sure Mr. Bateman will be more amenable to your request momentarily—

Ah, yes, four fingers. Is that satisfactory, or would you like him to sit up and look at the camera? Please, don’t hesitate to ask; we understand your skepticism completely, and we’re happy to oblige any reasonable requests to put your mind at ease.

[Jason Laird]

N-no sir, I think that does it… thank you…

So… you’re saying if we talk about what happened to Nat – one of those rich people might decide to bid on our behalf?

Yea… I think I can see what you’re doing, but everything else aside – our concern is knowing he can’t hurt anyone else. Beyond that, he deserves whatever he gets.

Natalie was a private person, though; she wouldn’t want everyone knowing what that bastard put her through… I know the details are all on the download anyway, but we haven’t decided if we’re going to watch it… or which parts we’ll watch if we do… We would appreciate it if you didn’t recount Nat’s final moments here as well… I’ll live with what I saw for the rest of my life, and despite how they feel right now – I don’t want my father or brother to be plagued by the same images.


Absolutely, sir, that is entirely at your discretion… Though, you must never blame yourselves for the actions of a monster! You’re a very bright, well-spoken young man, and I’m sure you have great things ahead. Thank you for your time.

With reports of a second murder, warnings of The Cosplay Killer flooded local news networks, but his identity remained a mystery. Then, on the morning of November 4th, Vanessa Jordan’s body was discovered by her boyfriend after failing to appear for a breakfast date. Andrew spoke to CNN saying he wasn’t yet aware of the recent killings, and struggled to process every aspect of the grueling scene. Though he did not recognize the popular Pokémon character, Misty, I’m sure it’s a likeness he won’t soon forget; his chilling call to 911 is included in our final report.

Benefactors, since there is no one here to speak on Vanessa’s behalf, we will move on to our third and final Guest. She is the only survivor of Mr. Bateman’s madness – please welcome Michelle Perkins.

[Shelly Perkins]

Hey, you can call me Shelly; I didn’t think this would be real, either, but there he is. That’s a face I’ll never forget – even without the red jumpsuit…

Look at me, bastard!… No, don’t glance and turn away; I want you looking right at me for every word of this… I said look at me!


Frank; two-second contact, please… Excellent.

Mr. Bateman, next time it will be three seconds.

My apologies, Ms. Perkins; please, continue.

[Shelly Perkins]

Oh, I don’t mind a bit; feel free to zap him anytime he looks away. If you people want a story in exchange for a chance to do it myself – fine by me. I’m glad the Laird’s don’t want to go, and I’m sorry to Mr. Edwards, but nobody deserves this more than I do.

The first time l saw Bateman was when he appeared outside of my sociology class… he got way too close just to compliment my shirt! I suppose the fact it had Inuyasha on it is relevant – that’s another anime— err, cartoon – like Sailor Moon and Pokémon. He said he noticed it before class – like it was normal to wait around for an hour just to compliment a stranger’s shirt! I tried to say thanks and walk away, but he followed me; I didn’t want him to know which dorm was mine so I walked to a coffee shop. Thankfully, a few friends from drama club were there, but when I tried to point out my stalker – he was gone. Thirty minutes later, we left as a group, and there was still no sign of the psycho. That was a Tuesday; by Friday, I forgot he existed entirely.

Midterms were over and everyone was ready to go home for Christmas break. They were all on edge because of the Cosplay Killer. If he had been attacking blondes or looking for a certain type – everyone would have dyed their hair and lived their lives, but no one knew who he’d choose next. Julie was blonde like Sailor Moon, Natalie’s hair was pink like Sakura’s, and Vanessa was a ginger like Misty. Apparently mine is black like Kagome’s… isn’t that right, Carl?

Oh – Kagome is one of the main characters from the Inuyasha cartoon – I’ll try to keep those parts simple. Even if it kills me to call it a cartoon – this isn’t the time for an anime lesson.

Anyway, I stayed in that night. Pretending to live alone was nice, and my dorm felt like a safe place… Most people didn’t even lock their door, but I always did.

I was up late watching YouTube when there was a soft knock at the door… It wasn’t uncommon; plenty of others were staying through the holiday, and college kids aren’t known for their love of grocery shopping. I thought one of the stoners was looking for snacks again…

The moment I saw that creep’s face, I knew I made a terrible mistake. I tried to slam the door, but he pushed back, and it hit me hard enough to blur my vision. The struggle was brief; I only remember flashes, but it ended with him beating my head against the hard floor, and everything going black. There were no dreams, only oblivion; when I did regain consciousness, it was like waking from a deep sleep until memories of the attack flooded back.

My head ached like it was being split in half; as I became more aware, I could hear Bateman moving around but didn’t want him to know I was awake. Still thinking we were in my dorm, I hoped to make a run for the door… I wish I had looked around first. As I tried to rise, I noticed several things at once.

We weren’t in my dorm; we were in a dingy basement. I was also dressed like a slutty school girl – which is the easiest way to describe Kagome’s costume – and around my ankle was a fuzzy handcuff attached to a metal bar anchored into the concrete floor. The chain was loud, and he heard my movement immediately.

He was wearing a red jumpsuit with a large beaded necklace like the Inuyasha character… I’ve had a hard life, but I’m a survivor! When I saw the sick look in his eyes and that disgusting grin, I made a decision to play along – no matter what. I had hoped my knowledge of the show would allow me to convince him the cuffs were unnecessary, but sadly serial killers are harder to manipulate than it looks in the movies…

But I didn’t give up! Oh, no! I “played-along” for the worst three hours of my existence as he systematically ruined my life and a beloved childhood memory at the same time. It’s no surprise this was the only way he could get a woman; he’s infinitely more disgusting naked. Thankfully, his whopping four inches didn’t do much tearing as he assaulted me – that made things a little easier. Then, it finally happened; if he wanted to act out one of the biggest scenes of the series – he had to uncuff me. By then, he was in such a hurry to unlock it – he dropped the key twice in the process.

It took every ounce of my restraint not to run right then; he was watching me for any sign of defiance, and I knew I would die before I let him get that cuff on me again. Another part of my soul withered as I swallowed my vomit and forced myself to play along for a few more minutes. We were standing with my back against the wall, and within arms reach – the liquor bottle was still right where I set it. I bit my lip until it bled to keep from gagging as I waited for him to get… lost in the moment, and I ran my fingers through his nasty, oily hair to position my hand as closely to the shelf as possible.

As his eyes began to roll back, I grabbed the bottle and brought it down on his head with all my strength; it didn’t break, and he didn’t fall to the floor like I imagined. He only groaned and staggered a few steps back as he looked at me with the blackest hatred I’ve ever seen. I knew how quickly he would catch me if I ran… instead, I charged at him like a bull and hit him over the head once more. The impact reverberated up my arm to my shoulder, but I hardly felt it; my sole focus was on Bateman. He was on the ground and bleeding, but whether he was really unconscious or faking it – I couldn’t be sure.

That’s when I noticed how close he had fallen to the handcuffs; my heart was beating in my throat as I approached, but somehow I got the cuff around his wrist. He began groaning again as it clicked shut, and I ran from the room without looking back. I didn’t notice or care that my only articles of clothing were a see-through blouse and a skimpy, green skirt with nothing underneath – my only thought was finding an exit.

Had I been thinking clearly, I would have bashed that psycho’s brains in until only a pile of mush was left. Unfortunately, that didn’t occur to me until Bateman was already screaming to be released. By then I had reached the top of the basement stairs which led to a dark kitchen; I couldn’t see anything. Using the wall as a guide, I began making my way through the strange house until my hand found an open doorway.

At the end of the hall, two windows let in just enough light to identify the front door. My hands were still shaking as I pulled it open and threw myself over the threshold. Once outside, my hopes were crushed yet again by the sound of footsteps racing up the basement stairs; I shut the door softly as I heard his first infuriated scream. There was just enough starlight to see I was on an abandoned house’s creaky porch. I had no clue where I was, and the few other houses also appeared empty. The only car on the street had to be the one Bateman drove, but it was locked.

I kept moving further away; I wanted to melt into the darkness and become one with the night. There was less than fifty yards between me and the murder house when a spotlight shined a few feet to my left; I dropped to my stomach and managed to roll behind a tree just as the beam passed by, but he wasn’t giving up. Bateman’s voice was dripping with malice as he alternated between threatening me with vile, disgusting things or promising to take me home. Any tenuous grip that man had on reality was long gone. He waved the light around in random, jerky motions, leaving me no time to move or check his position without the risk of being seen.

I focused on looking for the best direction to run, and that’s when I noticed space for a culvert had been dug alongside the road. It was nothing but an overgrown ditch now, but I laid flat and crawled through the tall grass; it was my only chance.

When the light passed back the other way, I didn’t hesitate. I didn’t know what lay at the end of that long, abandoned road, but there was no turning back. In the ditch, I felt like everything had to be ok; I’d come too far to die. Daydreams of returning to that house with police kept me going as my body burned from the itch of a thousand bug bites in places that already hurt too much to think about.

It felt like hours later when I realized the light was gone, but I was still too afraid to leave the ditch. Even at the end when there was nowhere else to crawl, I stayed in place to examine my surroundings. In front of me was a real road with painted lines, and a single light shone in the distance to my left; that’s where I headed.

Once out of view from that street, I felt safe enough to stand. Two cars passed by before I made it to those distant lights; I should have flagged them down for help, but I hid from both – convinced it was Bateman. When I finally did make it to the light source, I cried tears of joy to see it was a normal house, and several more were further down the street.

Unfortunately, I looked more frightening than the actual psycho… the first house wouldn’t even open the door, the next two slammed them in my face, and finally, the fourth was kind enough to listen to me through a closed window. She was a little old lady… I can’t blame her for being suspicious, but eventually, we were able to come to an agreement; she called 911 while I made myself as small as possible in a dark corner of her porch. Once help was on the way, she felt safe enough to let me inside.

It took almost forty minutes for help to arrive, but when it did – I made sure the police understood exactly which house I escaped from. In my terror, I had imagined Bateman was still out there looking for me, but he was gone. I met with a sketch artist, and finally, a week later, they found Bateman. He had no criminal record, but there was no doubt about his guilt; the bastard admitted to it immediately before requesting a lawyer, and you guys know the rest.


Yes… Mr. Bateman would have spent the remainder of his life in a comfortable institution had he not escaped. Clearly, the state of Massachusetts could not be trusted with his care, and fortunately, they now believe he’s dead.

Ms. Perkins, thank you for sharing your story with us; I know you’re all ready for the main event, so without further delay, please enjoy this short video while the Benefactors make their final decisions.

Alright, now that we have a break with our audience, let’s see how they feel about tonight’s Guests! It’s astounding how much more people will say when they think they’re speaking to a small, intimate group, but that Laird boy might be a little too smart for us, eh? I like him, but it’s a good thing you all are the ones actually deciding which Guest will get their private meeting!

Please turn your attention to the poll and cast your vote now! Who will have the taste of sweet revenge on Saturday? Will it be the grieving parents or the courageous heroine? I don’t often choose favorites, but it’s hard not to when we have a firecracker like Shelly!

While the votes are coming in – Benefactors! Are you ready to hold the auction?

For those joining us for the first time, we’ll replay the footage for the Guests who will think it’s happening live. This way, the audience always wins!

And, we’re back! Thank you, Guests, for your continued patience, and now – the moment you’ve all been waiting for!

Mr. and Mrs. Edwards, Benefactor #3 is a parent like yourself; they would be honored to bid on your behalf.

Laird family, Benefactor #1 saw a bit of their younger self in Jason. Since he has declined the prospect of seeing Mr. Bateman in person – you may potentially choose someone to go in your stead.

And last but certainly not least, Ms. Perkins. It’s no surprise Benefactor #2 – who once survived a similar attack – is overjoyed to be your sponsor.

My only question is – are you ready to start the bidding?!

[5 minutes later]

—going once! Going twice! Sold! For 3.5 million to Benefactor #2! Wow, what a rollercoaster! Ms. Perkins, pack your bags because we’ll be seeing you Saturday!

Well guys, that’s it for tonight, but before we go – don’t forget to download “The Crimes of the Cosplay Killer” for just $49.95! Or if you would like to pre-order “The Punishment of the Cosplay Killer” at the same time, you can add both to your Sweet Mercy collection for a mere $89.95! Those who reserve their copies today will also receive special behind-the-scene footage from Warehouse 66!



Hello, Shelly, it’s so nice to finally meet you in person! So, over the last few days, we’ve discussed what you’d like to see happen here, and I think you’ll be pleased with the work we’ve done.

Considering we do this full-time, we already owned most of the items you requested, but the gynecologist chair was a wonderful addition to our collection. We’ve named it Perkins; I think it’s going to be a fan— er, Guest favorite.

Oh, watch your step – one of the technicians hasn’t finished putting this one together yet; you strap the subject’s arm to that piece – then you turn the lever to twist.

Now that you’ve seen the theater, let’s go get Bateman; I thought you’d like to see his new forever home… And don’t worry about the other prisoners – they’re here for the same reason, but they’re completely harmless. Judging by our recent conversations, I assume you aren’t squeamish…

[Shelly Perkins]

Ha, no you don’t have to worry about— Holy shit! Are his eyes gone? Whoa, there’s so many of them!


You seem surprised. Most people have the same idea – that it’s better to keep them alive. The only problem is – we can’t tell the future. What if something happens and they get away? Then we would be responsible for letting these dangerous animals lose into society! That’s why we remove their eyes and castrate them before they’re transported to Sweet Mercy Zoo. Even if they were to get out of their cells – they’d have no idea where to go next, haha.

Obviously, that doesn’t include Carl; we didn’t want to be presumptuous. You’ll find him exactly as you saw him on the livestream, but we have surgeons standing by in case you need assistance or the subject gets a little too close to death.

[Shelly Perkins]

That’s brilliant; I can’t wait to get started!


I love your enthusiasm! You should consider a career with us. We’re always looking for people who truly understand the importance of our work, and the pay is marvelous!… Just something to think about…

Ah, here we are, Mr. Bateman, your date has arrived!

Classics Translated


Charles Perrault, originally published 1697; translated to Modern English, otherwise exactly the same. 

This story was adapted specially for Classics in the Rain with the wonderful Danie Dreadful. Enjoy Bluebeard in its full glory with this fantastic narration!

There was once a man who had fine houses, a great treasure, embroidered furniture, and gold-plated coaches, but this man was unlucky enough to have a blue beard; it made him so frightfully ugly that all the women ran away from him.

One of his neighbors – a highborn lady – had two daughters who were perfect beauties. He wanted to marry one of them and let her choose which it would be. Neither of the women would have him; they sent him back and forth from one to the other, unable to bear the thought of marrying a man with a blue beard. Adding to their aversion was the fact that he had already been married to several wives, and nobody knew what happened to them.

To win their affection, Bluebeard took them, their mother, and a few friends from the neighborhood to one of his country houses where they stayed for a whole week.

The time was filled with parties, hunting, fishing, dancing, and feasting. Nobody went to bed; they all spent the night celebrating and joking with each other. Everything went according to plan, and the youngest daughter began to think the man’s beard was not so blue after all, and that he was a very nice gentleman.

They were married as soon as they returned home. About a month later, Bluebeard needed to travel to the country for at least six weeks due to very important business matters. Not wanting his wife to be lonely, he suggested she take some friends to the country house and enjoy herself.

Original art I found

“Here are the keys to the two big rooms where my best furniture is stored. These keys are to the good silver, which are not for everyday use, and this one opens the safe containing my gold; these are for the jewelry cases, and this is the master key to all the apartments… Now – as for this little one here – it is the key to the ground floor closet at the end of the great hall. Open them all; go into each and every one of them – except for that closet. I forbid it. If you do open it – I will be greatly angered and resentful.” He said.

She promised to obey his exact wishes. Then, he hugged her, got into his coach, and left on his journey.

Her friends and neighbors did not wait to be invited; they were impatient to see the rich furniture, but they were too frightened of her husband’s blue beard to visit while he was there. They ran through all the rooms, and each was finer than the last.

Finally, they visited the two great rooms with the most expensive furniture. They could not sufficiently admire all the beautiful paintings, beds, couches, cabinets, tables, and full-length mirrors; some were framed with glass, others with silver, and they were the most magnificent they had ever seen.

In the meantime, the wife did not waste her time looking at all these fine things because she was impatient to open the closet on the ground floor. Her curiosity was so strong, she descended the black staircase with no thought to how rude it was to leave her guests, and – in her hurry – she nearly fell and broke her neck.

She paused at the closet door, thinking about her husband’s command and considering what the consequences might be if she disobeyed, but the temptation was too strong to resist. Trembling, she opened it with the little key, but it was too dark to see anything clearly. After a few minutes, her eyes began to adjust; the bodies of several dead women were laid against the walls, and the floor was covered with dried blood. These were all the previous wives of Bluebeard; he married and murdered them one after another. She thought she would die of fright, and the key fell from her hand.

She retrieved the key, locked the door, and went upstairs to recover in her room, but she was simply too frightened. Noticing the key was stained with blood, she tried to wipe it off, but it would not come out; she even tried to wash it with soap and sand, but that did not work either. The blood remained because it was a magical key, and she could never get it clean; when the blood was gone from one side, it reappeared on the other.

Bluebeard returned from his journey that same evening; he received letters on the road stating the business matters had ended well. His wife did all she could to convince him she was happy about his speedy return.

The next morning, he asked for the keys; her hand trembled so badly that he easily guessed what happened.

“Why is the key to my closet missing?” He asked.

“I must have left it on the table upstairs.” She said.

“Bring it to me at once.” Bluebeard demanded.

After several back and forths between them, she was forced to bring him the key. Bluebeard carefully examined it before asking, “Why is there blood on it?”

“I do not know!” The poor woman cried, paler than death.

“You do not know!” Exclaimed Bluebeard. “I know exactly what happened! You went into the closet, did you not? Very well, madam; you will go back and take your place among the ladies you saw there.”

At this, she threw herself at her husband’s feet and sincerely begged his forgiveness – vowing to never disobey again. She was so beautiful she could have melted a rock, but Bluebeard’s heart was harder than any rock!

“You must die at once, madam,” he said.

“If I must die, give me time to say my prayers.” She answered, her eyes bathed in tears.

“I will give you seven minutes, but not one second more.” Bluebeard replied.

When she was alone, she called to her sister, “Sister Anne, I beg you, go to the top of the tower, and see if my brothers are coming. They promised they would be here today; if you see them, give them a sign to hurry.”

Anne went to the top of the tower, and the poor wife cried out from time to time, “Anne, do you see anyone coming?”

“I see nothing but a cloud of dust, the sun, and the green grass.” Her sister replied.

Meanwhile Bluebeard held a great sword in his hand and called to his wife as loudly as he could, “Come down now, or I will come get you.”

“One moment longer, please,” his wife said; then, very softly, she cried out, “Sister Anne, do you see anybody coming?”

“I see nothing but a cloud of dust, the sun, and the green grass.” Anne answered.

“Come down quickly, or I will come get you.” Bluebeard cried.

“I am coming,” his wife answered; then she cried, “Sister Anne, you do not see anyone coming?”

“I see a great cloud of dust approaching.” Anne replied.

“Are they my brothers?”

“No, my dear sister, it is a flock of sheep.”

“Are you coming down?” Shouted Bluebeard.

“One moment longer,” his wife said; then she cried, “Sister Anne, do you see anyone coming?”

“I see two horsemen, but they are still far away.” She said.

“Thank God,” the poor wife replied joyfully. “It is my brothers; I will give them a sign to hurry.”

Then, Bluebeard yelled so loud, it shook the whole house. The frightened wife came down in tears, her hair in disarray, and threw herself at his feet.

“This means nothing; you must die!” Bluebeard said. Taking hold of her hair with one hand and lifting the sword in the other, he prepared to remove her head. The poor lady turned to him, and – with pleading eyes – asked for one final minute to compose herself.

“No, explain yourself to God,” he said, ready to strike.

At that moment, there was such a loud knocking at the gate that Bluebeard stopped suddenly. The gate was opened, and two horsemen entered. Drawing their swords, they ran directly to Bluebeard, and he knew they were his wife’s brothers; one was a soldier, and the other was a musketeer. He immediately ran to save himself, but the brothers captured him before he was off the porch. They ran their swords through his body and left him on the ground. The poor wife was almost as dead as her husband; she didn’t even have enough strength to stand and welcome her saviors.

Bluebeard had no heirs so his wife inherited everything. She used part of it to marry Anne to a young gentleman who loved her, and another part was used to buy captaincy commissions for her brothers. The rest she used to marry a very worthy gentleman who made her forget the bad time she had with Bluebeard.

Horror Fiction

Final Cut (Pt. 5)


I’m honored to introduce the finale of the On Nightmare’s Edge series written specially for the exclusive use of my good friend Nightmare’s Edge. He owns it, and it may not be used in any way/shape/form without his express written consent! No exceptions!

Here’s the link to his narration, he does fantastic work - make sure to sub while you’re there!

Now a CreepyPasta

Photo by Lady Nopeingham

Sunday, Day 1:

Hey, Night Crawlers! Fuck, Eddie and I missed you guys! Today is Day One of the “sorry I left you hanging again” marathon. The Feds and I have differing opinions regarding the channel’s effect on Turner. I believe crazy is crazy; they believe it fuels her psychosis. Basically, she enjoys the attention and will continue seeking more. Actually, do you know what I think?

I think she should do something extreme; something to grab the world’s attention! Seriously, if she set herself on fire, I think she’d top a million views inside a week; [mutter] hahaha, I hope hell is real. Wouldn’t that be the perfect ending, though? Her name would be etched into the annals of history!

What all this boils down to is – it’s been four weeks since I shot Andy, and Page hasn’t done a damn thing. Police are doing everything to track her down, but she’s a ghost. You’d think someone with her appearance would be easy to find, but every lead is a dead-end. They can’t stay with us forever. Most are already gone; in a few hours, we’ll only have one patrol car in the driveway.

Obviously they’ll continue searching; she’s a wanted fugitive. Shit, when they do get her… what’s to stop her from escaping again? I can’t take much more of this… the thought of her being free when Aiden goes to college makes me sick; the thought of him not going because of her makes me equally sick… maybe more.

I almost stopped going to the support meetings when my protection detail was forced to chaperone. It’s difficult to speak freely with outsiders in attendance. It’s one thing to share my pain with strangers experiencing the same loss, but sharing with people who go home to a loving spouse is… uncomfortable. I know this sounds horrible, but it also breeds a bit of resentful jealousy.

Anyway, onto the actual reason for tonight’s stream – I haven’t been idle over here; I’ve been recording almost everyday! As my apology for yet another extended absence, you’re getting a new story every night this week! I hope to do streams before most, but I’ve learned to exercise caution with scheduling statements; life often makes differing plans. Tonight’s story is Melting Icarus. If you like it we’ll do the sequel when I push you tomorrow; let me know what you think in the comments!

Monday, Day 2:

Peek-a-boo, Night Crawlers, guess who fucking sees you! Not me, because I’m not a psycho stalker – only a less-evil-than-most cryptid who wants to innocently tickle those inner fears.

Speaking of which, it seems like I did just that with Melting Icarus, so – as promised – Avenging Icarus is next. I’m glad you’re enjoying it; honestly, it might be my new favorite Pasta!

Alright, now that the business end is taken care of, I’m ready to address the elephant in the room. Yes, I saw the Page Effin Turner channel. The Feds were all over it, but the profile picture was used by several news networks; it’s incredibly easy to obtain. Furthermore, the IP address has been traced; yes, the owner is clearly disturbed but essentially harmless. I’m not allowed to divulge their name, but they don’t live in the United States; they’re also disabled and require assistance to leave home.

The best thing we can do is ignore it. Please, do not give them views or dislikes; you may think the dreaded thumbs down hurts, but it’s still engagement – and that will encourage this person. That being said, most of you want to see it purely out of morbid curiosity. I can’t blame you; that’s the twisted personality quirk bringing you here in the first place. Considering you guys keep a roof over my head, I’m going to save everyone a little time with a quick rundown. You’re not missing anything, I promise.

Let’s start with her channel description; it’s pretty short, I’ll read it to you:

At the request of my good friend and creative partner, Gregory Jones, I created a channel. I look forward to bringing you - the viewer - more amazing content from the hit series, On Nightmare’s Edge! As co-creator and author to the written series, I am proud to announce the complete set’s publication is underway and coming soon…
Spoiler Alert: It includes the never-before-seen fifth and final installment! It’s gonna push you right over the edge!

That’s too pathetic even for Turner. I’d be pissed that someone used my name, but I guess karma is a bitch. Hell, I’m surprised there’s not more than one… oh well, onto the video itself.

The static noise of an old radio is the only sound. There’s no music or talking, and the backdrop is a white poster-board. Crayons were used to hastily scribble a rainbow at the top and trees across the bottom, but the key figure is a small house drawn on the right. It’s labeled “Greg’s House” and meant to appear far off in the distance.

In the opening scene, a Lamb Chop puppet sits in the center; young viewers won’t be familiar with Lamb Chop’s Play Along, but it’s a bad kid’s show from the 90’s staring a sock puppet named Lamb Chop. Only, this one has been slightly altered.

Its black eyes are replaced with the big, red buttons normally found on its torso, but one hangs loosely by a thread. You know they’re the same ones due to holes left by their removal… in case there’s any doubt – a sharpie was used to replicate blood.

Soon, the puppet stands, and the backdrop is replaced – poorly but effectively conveying Lamb Chop’s walk through the woods. This poster is decorated the same except for a horribly drawn cave to the right, and my distant house is to the far left. The lamb turns toward the dark cavern, and after a short pause, turns back; slowly, its mouth spreads wider and wider into an eerie smile.

The final scene is colored brown around all four sides; we’ve entered the cave. To the right, an open book sits atop a podium with short, yellow lines decorating the space around it; the remainder is colored black. Basically, it’s the only light in the darkness, and Lamb Chop is intrigued. The puppet proceeds to stare at the display for five solid minutes before returning its attention to the audience and giving us a final sickly, wide smile.

I didn’t skip through the pointless five minutes either; I watched the entire thing just in case something was spliced in – but there’s nothing. If your curiosity still demands to see it, I understand… but please don’t engage, okay?

Thanks Crawlers, I can always count on you.

Oh, and shout out to the person doing the channel – I’m sorry for your struggles. Life is hard… I know; if you ever want advice on making real content, send me an email. Creating can be a wonderful outlet if you’re willing to give it a chance.

Anyway, that’s it – I’ll release the hostage now. Here’s Avenging Icarus, and don’t forget to visit the Community tab; cast your vote for which story pushes you next!

Tuesday, Day 3:

Yo, Crawlers! Check me out, I’m back for the third stream in three days! So far so good, huh? Admit it – you thought disaster would strike the first night without protection, and I’d disappear again. Is that close to the mark?

I knew it! Because I did too! Yet, this morning, Bill and Ted were still sitting in their cruiser – grumpy but breathing.

Haha, no, those aren’t their real names; the younger one is a fan, and it turned into a joke.

There’s something I want to share before discussing tonight’s story. The real Page must not appreciate being snubbed out of the spotlight because she mailed another letter… well, poem… I guess.

Yes, Lady, in the actual mail; it was sent from California again.

[sarcasm] That’s weird though, don’t you think? Considering she’s living in a cave out back? You know, the one no one has ever seen in the decades my family has lived here?

Why yes, Disco, I will read it to you. I assure you it’s her best work. Seriously, this is gonna be tough to beat! I’ll put it on the screen; you have to see the spelling to fully appreciate it. Are you ready? Okay [clears throat]

Then, on the back, at the bottom, barely legible – “I informed you thusly.”

Bitch’s brain be broke; bleh, try saying that five times fast. Seriously though, is that a murder/suicide threat, or… what else could it be, right? Hey, look! I narrated something she wrote! Do you think this means she’ll leave me alone?

Why can’t you guys just let a man dream? [bark] See, you upset Eddie; now he demands Walk-Walk. Here, take The Midnight Man and let me get this dog out before he pisses on my chair again – push ya later!

Wednesday, Day 4:

Sup, Crawlers? I’m 4 for 4 but barely. [bark] Eddie says hey. [away from mic] Lay down, man.

Sorry if your volume was up, but I couldn’t keep him out; he’s being persistent today. He’ll be easier to deal with when the boys are back from school, but I can’t address that video with them here. It’s naive to think they won’t see it, but dissecting it while they’re home seems… wrong.

Yep Lore, that’s exactly why, I said ‘barely’, but then I decided fuck that! I’m sick of hiding; I’ll be damned if that video stops me from streaming!

The Feds don’t necessarily believe it’s genuinely Turner now, but it’s certainly not the original suspect. The possibilities are being investigated by multiple agencies; at the very least, this is a serial killer.

I don’t know Stu, if a guy ‘happened upon’ something like that – what kind of person uses it this way instead of reporting it?

Wait – let’s get everyone caught up; I’ll to break it down in hopes—

Oh, that was faster than usual… okay – Disco said the channel is already terminated, but I’m not surprised… all things considered…

So, yea – there were no kiddy drawings or puppets, just actual footage. It was ten minutes, and the scenes were spliced together from multiple recordings made over a span of… I don’t even know how long.

It starts off as a collage of “Welcome to (x) state” signs – the ones people always pose with on vacations; they’re listed in geographical order like it was an actual road-trip. The list makes a trail from Indiana to California and back to Michigan. It totals thirteen different states; remember that number. To help you visualize this – the lines on the map show the indicated route. Clicking through each frame was incredibly tedious, but let this be a lesson in the dangers of obsession.

With a black screen comes the sound of a lock clicking open and a metal roll-door going up. After it closes behind us, a flashlight is turned on, and we see the inside of a storage unit. The lighting is too dim to see much beyond the beam, but the tour is fairly thorough.

First we’re shown a pile of bloodied clothing; nothing unusual – every newb can drench old clothes with corn syrup. The camera pans across the soiled rags in concert with the light and comes to rest on a mountain of shoes – the summit of which is inches below the ceiling. A close-up reveals much of the footwear still contains part of their owner… and you want to think, ‘this must be another ARG’ except it’s just so graphic

Before you can give it more thought, a new distraction is on the screen. We moved to the next display – a wall with 12 missing person’s flyers hanging in a neat 3×4 block. As we continue along the wall, we see it’s covered in repeating segments of this design – but the others are altered by various filters; it must have taken days for one person to do… maybe weeks. I think it was meant to be artistic.

Next, the shot pans past a cot in the far corner and takes us to several stacks of storage bins. It’s hard to say how many, but this absolutely qualifies as a fuck-ton. The camera is set atop a nearby tote and angled to the correct viewpoint before a smaller bin is centered in the screen. When it’s finally opened, we see twelve drivers licenses inside; a gloved hand arranges each one neatly for the audience.

The ID’s belonged to the missing persons, and tiny X’s are scratched over their eyes. This is also where you should notice they are from twelve of the thirteen states plotted on the map. Can you guess which one was missing? Yes, Michigan!

Binky the Clown’s laugh plays in a loop while the lid is replaced on the small tote. Then we move to a box at the back of the room; almost like the filmer can hear us thinking ‘but those were too many shoes for twelve people.’

By now, some viewers were already Googling the names to discover these are real missing people but not me; I was glued to the screen, nervously awaiting the next reveal. I didn’t come to my senses until three more totes spilled into the floor. It was madness; you could never count them all…

If it was possible for one person to be responsible for all these disappearances, they would be the most prolific serial killer in history… but it has to be something else. After the first box, there’s only a few visible enough to read, but some expired before Turner was even born. So what’s the deal?

No, Livers, that can’t be it; pictures of the first twelve were analyzed by experts. Plus, the first man – from Indiana – went missing ten months ago, and the last woman – from Missouri – went missing only six weeks ago; the other timelines match perfectly as well. Someone who actually does that doesn’t need to bluff.

Hold on guys, those are good theories, but let me tell the rest; not everyone has the whole picture yet… [grumble] since they kept their promise not to watch.

After the third tote, the scene fades to black, and we hear a thunderstorm. The rain is hard, but the wind is overwhelming. The first flash only illuminates a brief shadow of forest scenery, but the frozen image is too blurry for identifiable features. There’s no doubt it is meant to represent my house, but it’s probably darkened specifically to disguise any features discrediting the possibility. There’s a few more flashes as thunder roars, and rain obscures the scenery until we’re once again left in darkness.

The final scene opens with the storm effects dampened; we’re now inside the cave. It’s dimly lit by candlelight, but one brightly illuminated spot waits in the back. As the camera moves closer, various things are seen to either side; there’s a mattress, bottles of water, cans of food, and a wooden crate with books stacked on top. There’s no question this person spends much of their time here; the ‘lived-in’ look is too good to be staged.

At the far end of the surprisingly spacious area, we learn what warrants the extra lighting. It’s a poor man’s version of Professor Snape’s potions lab and an altar that puts Page’s to shame; actually, that’s an understatement… this is closer to a shrine. No – better yet, it’s a colossal monument!

At first, you don’t understand what you’re looking at; it’s merged with the entire wall. Unlike Turner’s, this one consisted solely of bone. The first pieces were driven into the cave’s bedrock like pegs, and the rest is built from their foundation. Anyone who blindly stumbled across this would assume it’s an ARG… I’ve never seen the sheer quantity

Ah, yes! Lady nailed it – it’s comparable to the Paris Catacombs. There are 206 bones in the human body, and I bet that wall has plenty of each. They don’t seem to be in a particular order; it’s total chaos yet somehow… symmetrical.

Wait, I misspoke before! Another material is utilized in this thing; some of the bones are tied together with red string. Blood stains are abundant, but I think that’s how they were naturally… received rather than decoration.

In front of this monstrosity is a table overloaded with flasks, beakers, strange herbs and other things I can’t identify. Next to it is a cauldron… as in an actual from-a-fairytale witch’s cauldron! Cold, charred firewood sits beneath it, and a foul, green residue clings to its rim. Last, but certainly not least – to the right – is a wooden podium holding an open book; it’s the kind with slats to hold the pages open. We are given a closeup before the final fade-out, but it’s written in Ancient Greek.

Luckily, I was able to forgo the hours on Google by learning the translation from Agent Robins. They haven’t been able to identify the source book, but it’s estimated to be several hundred years old. The first page is titled Knot of Fate, and beneath is a crude illustration of two human figures standing with arms and legs apart like on medical charts. They’re hopelessly entangled; a rope weaves around their genderless bodies, and a mass of tangled knots fill the space between them.

The remainder of that page and the next seem to be instructions for the ritual. There’s nothing written about the results, but – whatever it does – costs 13 human sacrifices and a not-insignificant amount of personal blood. Our guy already has twelve; did the countless people murdered beforehand not count?

This is about to be a major buzzkill, but I can’t read the rest of the instructions to you…

I know, but I’m a magnet for crazy and feel like it would be a poor idea to convey something this dark through my channel. The last thing I need is for some troubled teen to hear it and decide they wanna try. We live in a world where kids eat tide pods; for fuck’s sake, anything is possible!

Look, if you really want to know what it says there’s probably fifty channels with breakdowns already posted, but we’ve covered the highlights. After a long list of items – all of which are extremely difficult to acquire – it details cooking instructions for a potion. Once you finally have that, there’s a list of prerequisites to fulfill before the ritual can even begin; it’s insanely convoluted.

Besides, we need to wrap this up; if you still want to talk about theories, now’s the time.

That’s what I personally think, Lady; this goes beyond one person. This is a cult or family or… I don’t know, but they’ve been at it for decades. My mind isn’t even capable of grasping the number of lives affected by these people.

Hmm, I don’t know, Livers; yes, it’s physically possible a dumping ground could exist for gangs or organizations to share… you mean—

Oh, I see. Like, the underground community in John Wick. Eh, I feel like those are the types to destroy a body completely…

Well, touché, these guys would clearly be the occult version, haha okay.

Anyone else? We can do one more; then it’s time for Goblins, Ligers and Snares (Oh My!) I normally avoid long titles, but this was too clever to pass up.

I don’t know, Lore; I’m going back and forth on that. On one hand I feel like Page must be connected to the group, but it feels wrong… I’m not sure how to explain it… I just don’t see her as a team player.

I’ve been pulling my hair out over different theories all morning; it’s time for a break. Let’s stop here before I’m bald, haha, and hopefully I’ll be back to push you tomorrow.

Thursday, Day 5:

[Posted 7:30pm: Nightclub Suicide]

Friday, Day 6:

[Posted 7:30pm: Rivers of Sand]

Saturday, Day 7:

[loud/giddy] Night Crawlers! Holy shit, you have no idea how long I’ve waited for this! I asked everyone to be here for a major announcement and you guys did not disappoint. There’s 1,000 people here, and we’ve added five thousand subs in just a few weeks! Tonight’s video is my thank you. I know some of your time zones are inconvenient, but I promise, this is worth it. Buckle up buttercups, this is gonna take a while.

Before we begin, I have a quick apology to make… I’ve been lying to you since returning from my hiatus, but after the explanation – I think you’ll forgive me. As you all know, Turner was analyzing every word I said, and we wanted to use that against her. A long con was our only hope; let’s break each stream down, and set the record straight.

The First:

Haha, many of you are expressing surprise at my cheerful demeanor, but I assure you there’s an excellent reason. I’m beyond cheerful; shit, I left chipper in the rear-view mirror! I, ladies and gents, am downright giddy! Please, hold your questions til the end while I regale you with my triumphs.

The first stream was a short “I’m back” statement claiming Turner was a ghost; that was to instill a false sense of security. We didn’t know her location yet, but we did know she was close by; nothing could convince us she left town. Baiting her into starting a YouTube channel wasn’t planned, but the IT guys had a field day with it.

I was nervous about lying – especially live – but being the object of a stalker’s obsession can instill a desperate yet effective confidence. I was given key phrases to say, but nothing that could constitute as a script; Agent Robins worried it wouldn’t sound natural. I was annoyed at the time but can’t argue with the results.

I almost canceled the whole ruse when I mentioned the support group; it wouldn’t be unlike Turner to target them… mainly Sarah. She was my biggest lie of all… well, not at first. Everything I said about our relationship was true in the beginning… but we had our first date the week before that stream and it was… ugh, I hate sounding this way, but it was magic as fuck.

Thank you, everyone, I knew you would be supportive… though I do hope you understand my reluctance to share further details. It’s a new relationship and scary as hell for both of us… so, yea…

Ok, this isn’t a romance channel; let’s get to the horror! While I genuinely recorded extra videos as a way of apology, they also served a second purpose. It was an excuse to stream every night; Page can’t resist new content, and the longer she was distracted by tv the better.

The Second:

Announcing Turner’s channel was tricky but sorta fun. I received a link from Reddit user PT666. The account was brand new and is now deleted, but please don’t give me crap about clicking a shady link; it was clearly to YouTube. Did my hopes immediately set on the idea of her actually using it for suicide? Yea, totally… but I tried to rein in the rogue fuckers.

The IT squad is amazing, I can’t say that enough; maybe I should’ve made an effort to learn the real name of their unit… hmm. Anyway, they were reasonably sure the channel was legitimately Turner because of specific hacker techniques she used; not so much what she did, but how she did it. Behind the basic VPN, she led us to an actual disabled person in Canada. She needed to believe her trick worked; the hope was to make her comfortable while we continued tracking a real location.

We walked a delicate line by giving the videos attention, but it prevented others from engaging with her; although it may not seem like it – most people come here to lurk. The bulk of views are from people bored browsing. They might be tempted to see what the fuss is, but if I condense a summary into what they’re already watching – most won’t bother. Plus, we hoped Page would continue uploading; each video gave IT more to work with.

Yes indeed, Lady; the system was working well… a little too well as we would soon discover. Sorry, I shouldn’t jump ahead; I want to tell this just right.

The invitation to email me was impulsive, but that was a bust. I wanted to ask how she worked the puppet; the real Lamb Chop always sat, but Turner’s stood without revealing her arm. Overall, the video looked like a kid made it, but if you focused on the puppet – her control was eerily natural… especially the creepy smile; that shit gave me chills.

The first video was clearly saying, “Howdy, neighbor! I found a cave on your property and moved right in.” I was positive it didn’t exist; between family and investigations – there isn’t a square on the grid that hasn’t been searched a dozen times. Regardless, this was Page fucking Turner; she doesn’t say anything without a sneaky double meaning to throw in your face.

There was a catch, I just needed to find it; my obsession became so strong, I recorded both videos in order to analyze it without letting the views increase. I think years of torment have entitled me to some pedantic pettiness. Unfortunately, I wouldn’t have an epiphany until it was too late, so let’s pause this part and move on to day three.

The Third:

I said the poem came from California because that’s what Page wanted us to believe. The postage marks were faked; it was definitely delivered in person. That meant we had a picture of whoever left it! Right? Nope, she stole the SD card!

It was up really high, too; she must have climbed the tree. I used a 10ft ladder to get it up there and even then it was a stretch! Plus, the card slot is on the back; that means she took it down and replaced it. Most people would keep it or trash it at that point.

Don’t feel bad Lore, I didn’t understand why either… although, Lady is only half right. It’s true, the ‘mailed from California’ ploy would be ruined, but she didn’t steal the card that night; it was gone long before. She knew I wouldn’t check without reason due to the inconvenience.

Yup, I’m afraid so, Disco; we soon learned she passed through quite regularly… to get… well, home; she was a busy little psycho. We put a new card in but never got anything from it; once everything was in place – she bunkered down and got serious.

The Fourth:

By the fourth stream, I was barely holding it together; I couldn’t ignore Turner’s new video, but I was afraid of revealing too much. That morning, six officers disguised as hunters searched the property again; it’s the best way for heavily armed men to walk about inconspicuously. More of Page’s witchy totems were scattered throughout the forest; some hung in trees, and some were balanced atop piles of rocks.

I somehow resisted the urge to immediately destroy them; we didn’t want her to know we saw anything. That was before we understood how thoroughly secluded she was [shudders]. The totems weren’t there two days before, but suddenly, they numbered more than fifty. The fact she continued to move freely about my property – after such extreme precautions – was too much for my mind to comprehend.

And fuck, that video, right? I can finally tell you how it happened, but I’m adding an extra disclaimer that this is viewer discretion highly-fucking advised, okay? It’s fine if you don’t want to listen; the next story will be up in a couple hours.

Okay, so. You’ll hear why later, but here’s how Page completed her sacrificial duties. You know – in order to complete what we thought to be a ritual called Knot of Fate. We were slightly off; apparently it’s a curse and doesn’t have an exact translation, but it’s closer to Tangled Destiny… or so I’m told.

I’m glad you asked, Lore; the reason she crossed state lines was purely tactical to avoid police detection; it’s pretty disturbing how simple it was. Using a fake identity, she bought a car online and hit the road. She filmed the whole journey for “the sake of history” but didn’t think to start a channel until I opened my fat mouth. Batty bitch even bought souvenirs!

When ready for a victim, she pretended to be an Uber driver until someone was too drunk to check the app; it’s surprising how normal she looks in a face mask and makeup. Much like my old friend, Rick – these people mistook her small, fragile appearance as non-threatening; in our world, there’s no such thing.

Eventually, someone always crawled into the backseat, and Turner drove off like she knew where they were going. On the rare occasion someone complained, she cheerfully apologized and corrected course. Once they were safely on the road, she’d offer the passenger a bottle of water and wait for the drugs to take effect.

I asked what she did if they refused the drink, but she said it only happened once – on number six. It took her by such surprise, she drove the woman all the way home and found another. The survivor’s original driver got five stars… I really can’t even.

Once unconscious she injected them with enough horse tranquilizer to ensure they wouldn’t wake up before the sacrifice could be completed. She claimed the drug choice was based on ease of access but didn’t elaborate further. The only shred of solace the families have is knowing their loved ones didn’t suffer; considering the exceptionally mortifying methods employed, it is something.

The usual routine consisted of locating a new subdivision and borrowing an empty house. In the basement, she was able to use lights without fear of a passerby. The broad strokes include candles, an extremely complicated symbol, and a prayer – which must be in Ancient Greek – to whatever the hell she worshiped as very precise cuts are made.

When the deed was done and the messes were cleaned – she googled local papers to suss out where the gangs frequent. After dumping the bodies into said gangster’s territory, she got the hell out of dodge. Turner was so disgustingly proud of herself. What terrified me most is how someone so calculating, so seemingly intelligent – could be so far off the deep end.

I also asked about the storage unit, but it was the one thing she wasn’t eager to discuss. The Feds shut me out of the investigation, but I was able to learn they still haven’t found the place. Since Page already had twelve people, they assumed she was in Michigan – but they recently expanded the search radius. The mystery behind that shrine is shaping up to be darker than anything I’ve seen, and it might be years before we know more.

As you all know, this was the last stream; I had a feeling it would be. The last three videos were ready to go, so my brother posted at 7:30 until told differently. Page knew that video would cost her the channel, but she posted anyway because she was already finished with it.

The Final Showdown:

Okay, this is it – what you’ve all been waiting for; the following occurred between Thursday afternoon and early Friday morning. I could feel it in my bones; something was about to happen. The boys were at school, but I wasn’t taking chances.

I successfully embodied the character of each overly paranoid whacko in the Pasta catalog; the game was afoot. Firmly picturing the walls with literal ears, I packed a couple of suitcases without saying a word. After paying cash for a cheap – yet safe – hotel room, I left the luggage behind and drove to the boy’s school.

After giving Aiden the hotel key, I followed to ensure they arrived safely… and this is where I had to make one of the most difficult choices of all – who kept Eddie. I know, it seems like an easy choice, right? Technically, yes, because I always knew Ed was staying… but I also know that if I were a neutral third-party – that the tactical decision was to keep him where actual danger was most likely to occur. But they’re my kids… so, fuck tactics.

The hotel absolutely does not allow dogs, but with the agreement to be discreet and pay double – exceptions were made. I waited until I was leaving to say training pads were in the suitcase, but there wasn’t anywhere to walk a dog anyway.

I made sure they understood how important it was not to tell anyone their location. They’re not stupid, but I felt better saying it. The packed pop-tarts, lunchables, and snack-foods wouldn’t make the most nutritious dinner, but their young bodies could endure it under the circumstances. Thankfully they only needed to spend one night there.

I truly thought I outsmarted her this time; all day I played it cool. Then at 4:00, I tweeted “Early weekend start with the boys! No stream!” – I even ordered three large pizzas like on real movie nights!

All the while I was making sure the windows were still nailed shut and adding tinfoil for food measure—

Yes, Lore, tinfoil – because I was sick of thinking I saw her peeking in.

No, why would you think that’s a joke? Every time I passed a window there’d be this fucking spot in the corner of my eye; it was literally making me even crazier! Besides – that’s what the cameras are for, fuck those windows.

Oh, Lady I’m actually really happy you mentioned ADT, this is perfect timing. Okay so you guys remember she got all the special attention for her complete domination of the security system hacks, yea? So, apparently no, she wasn’t special; don’t get me wrong, she was a decent hacker, but nothing close to what we thought.

I don’t understand the technical side but I’m sure it’s explained in one of the reports coming out. I can’t stand those Hollywood ass-fucks. They couldn’t wait a few days to announce a sequel, nope; within a matter of hours it’s everywhere.

Sorry, didn’t mean to go on a tangent, but essentially, hacking your way into full access of ADT’s system – alone – from a random location, would take skills of an impressive magnitude. Blackmailing an employee and receiving direct access to my personal account is another matter entirely. This would have been discovered had the guilty man not been a long-time, trusted technician; he effortlessly erased what meager traces remained after each login.

I’m neither gladdened nor saddened by the fact he’s facing a divorce and jail sentence in the near future; he – and his family – are merely more victims left in the wake of Turner’s destruction. Am I bitter of all we suffered purely because a man couldn’t keep it in his pants? Of course I am, but I’m also very tired and feel like he’s suffering adequately without my attention.

Where were we before all that? … Ah, thanks, Stu; By sunset on Thursday, I felt like my house was a fortress. Bill and Ted were outside doing their thing, and I was strutting around like GI Joe with my lucky psycho hunting knife. Even with both guns, the blade made me feel the safest. Not as safe as Eddie, but he was exactly where he needed to be.

After receiving the pizza – I set it in the kitchen, used the bathroom, and started a podcast before fixing a plate. I was starving; those five slices were the first thing I ate since breakfast. They also came very close to killing me. I felt the first warning when I suddenly transitioned from drowsy to intoxicatingly delirious.

I tried to stand but fell, slamming my elbow into the coffee table on the way down. The now purple bruise testifies to the forceful impact, but I only felt a numbing tingle. I admit to having a sizable party streak in my younger days, so while my memories are fuzzy for this portion – I remember being higher than a fucking kite.

Who knows how much time passed before Turner was standing before me; I wouldn’t have checked the footage even if the cameras were recording. I do remember she was incredibly annoyed I ‘ate too much’ – she practically had to drag me downstairs; the intention was for me to be groggy but semi-functional.

I was aware of losing the guns, but my arms were useless, dead weights. Fortunately, I was numb when rolling down the last basement steps; it’s a damn miracle no bones were broken. Upon impact with the concrete floor, I blacked out entirely.

After a few hard slaps, I woke to a familiar sensation. My clothes were drenched in sweat, my heart was hammering, and my mouth was completely numb, but underneath the rising terror and panic, euphoria was creeping to the surface.

A frantic look at my surroundings revealed I was tied to a support column in the basement; the crazy bitch installed one of those castle-dungeon-wall-loop-things to the post! Not only that, the psycho had black war-paint all over her face in some kind of tribal design!

I wasn’t willing to speak first; when we made eye contact, we stared each other down. Casually, she reported that I ingested a generous dose of cocaine; considering it’d been twenty years since my last ingestion, it combated the Special K rather effectively. Overall, I was lucky; had she used the normal dosage, the fourth slice would have been fatal.

It took a while for any conversation of substance to form. I was awake but slow-witted; she made coffee to speed the process, and I hate that it actually tasted good. Though… it isn’t surprising she knew how I prefer it… probably saw me make it 100 times [shudder].

When I was finally coherent enough to appreciate the depths of my fucked-ness, I learned quite a lot. Remember our creed? Right – ‘Hell no, fuck ho-bos.’ Turns out, I never lost mine; crazy bitch planned every bit from day one! Well, not the breaks where she was locked up or healing – but yea, basically all the rest.

The attic nest was always a failsafe for the increasing chance of discovery over longer periods of time. Regardless of caution, the odds were statistically poor considering it was a four family household with a dangerous guard dog. I’ve debated leaving this suspicion out… but I’m just gonna say it…

So, she made this comment about spreading her smell around the house to blend with our family scent – ultimately becoming invisible to Eddie.

Side note: “family scent” is a thing for pets, you can Google that shit.

My initial reaction was ‘holy hell is that why he was slow to notice all those times’, which prevented me from seeing… this other possibility…

A common way animals spread their scent is through urination. Do… do you guys remember when I ended that stream by saying I had to walk Eddie “before he pissed on my chair again?”

Well… the thing is, he was always a really good boy about going outside until the whole intruder thing started. When we found accidents we’d scold him but not too bad; the vet thought he was either traumatized or marking his territory because we felt threatened… likely a mixture of both. It happened on and off over the years, but the worst occasions line up with Page’s timeline…

[horrified] I’m trying to ask if y’all think that crazy bitch was pissing in my house! … [sob] Why?

[sigh] We should pick up the pace, we’ve been here longer than expected… I don’t know how to say this next part without sounding ridiculous… but everything I’ve said has been ridiculous; so, who cares anymore.

Remember when I said there was a catch with the cave in the woods? The moment she corrected me, I understood my mistake. She said I shouldn’t have thought of it as a cave but a tunnel! That bitch has been tunneling under my property like bugs fucking bunny all these years; there’s an access door under the basement steps!

Guys, there aren’t enough emojis in the world; just stop trying.

Honestly, those were works of art; engineers are still going through them to shore up the walls. Due to all the cold cases surrounding Turner – multiple agencies are searching for evidence. How terrible am I for being a little excited at the prospect of having escape tunnels under my house when this is over? I don’t see the point of collapsing them if they’re safe, and she can never use them again.

Haha, don’t worry Lady, I’m getting to that part. We talked for a long while, but I was efficiently attached to that beam for the duration. She was too smart to unlock the bar herself; instead, she tossed me the key. I was so curious of the tunnels I might have gone in even without being held at gun-point.

They were everything she claimed. Not too tall or wide – because materials were limited – but extremely long, and the potion lab is in her living quarters. These spaces are almost 7ft in height and consist of three ‘rooms’ roughly the size of an average den. Besides the one used for witchcraft, there’s a storage and lounging area. That’s where her bed and normal books were kept. Maybe she was a dwarf in a past life; there’s clearly some kind of mountain-person-history there.

She claimed the tunnels extend to her first shelter in the forest – and I have no doubt they do – but there hasn’t been a chance to fully explore; I was never meant to live past the cauldron room. Somehow she managed to get enough concrete down there to pour a 12×12 slab; that’s where she drew her insanely detailed curse symbol. Once she was ready for me to lay on that thing, shit got real.

Basically, I told her it didn’t matter how many guns she had. There’s no way I was gonna lay down and let her carve me up just so! Then she said my sons’ hotel room number… and said a man named Chill was ‘keeping them company’ in case I decided to be difficult.

Isn’t it crazy how a few words can hold power to sway our strongest resolve? I took three full steps before coming to my senses… why in the ever-loving fuckballs did believe that statement? Then, finally, something went my way; she called the Goon on speakerphone as proof. On the fourth call, a very angry man answered; I’d trade my left nut to have the audio recorded, but I can give you the basics.

Chill was paid to break into the hotel room of two defenseless children; he knew nothing about a pit bull or senior baseball player. It was difficult to hear when she took him off speaker, but the screams were loud enough to learn he was missing two fingers and probably had a fractured skull. Unfortunately, he was already across state lines at the time of that call and has not been captured.

The guy didn’t try to be stealthy; he announced himself by kicking in the door – intent on snatching two small children. Instead, The Good Boy took him down, and Aiden swung his bat until Chill begged for mercy.

Me too, Lady, but despite what I would have done, Conner was crying and Aiden was scared; they just wanted it to be over with. Once they called off the dog, that guy crawled out of there crying and apologizing. They tried to call right away but my phone was in the living-room; when police learned I wasn’t answering, Bill and Ted were asked to check inside.

To catch up to their entrance – I need to jump back once more. Turner knew she was fucked. What incentive is a gun if you can’t use it without ruining your little voodoo curse? I saved the craziest part for last because this is the kind of shit you can’t make up.

You wanna know what her Tangled Destiny curse does? With the power of some “Ancient God older than the Olympian’s” – she was going to “bind our life forces together” which means if one of us dies—

HA! I knew someone was gonna say it, thanks Disco. No, the other doesn’t die – no, no, no; her whacked out magic is ass-backwards. It keeps them alive! The only way to kill the Bound is if they die simultaneously. It’s insanity, right? But wait, it gets so much better. When her plan to get me into her little circle thing failed – she got hilariously desperate… I can laugh at this now, anyway.

Page dropped both guns and kicked them to the other side of the room. I was so shocked that even her freaky smile and war-painted face didn’t scare me; I felt powerful now that the cocaine was in full effect. Then she said she would get me into the circle by force and stepped inside.

Next, she revealed a large hunting knife, reminding me of my own – still tucked into my boot. With the guns out of reach, there was no reason not to use it. I was sad she seemed indifferent to the revelation, but I couldn’t hesitate; this was finally my moment.

I lunged forward, fully expecting her to dodge or counter – at which point we would engage in a duel to the death – but that didn’t happen. She just stood there… smiling… laughing as the blade sank into her abdomen and my hand crushed the wrist of her knife arm. Our eyes remained locked as her blade clattered to the floor; Slowly, dreamlike, I pulled the knife upwards and felt the sickening rip of flesh until metal collided with bone.

Before I tell you the rest I’m going to explain what really happened so no one rains on my parade because we’re still celebrating, and fuck anyone who doesn’t wanna join.

This bitch knew it was game over and decided to inflict whatever last bit of psychological torture possible. Sinking to her knees, she removed something from her pocket and threw it at my feet; every last breath was used to explain how the curse really worked.

The item she threw was a Michigan state driver’s license for Maria Sanchez. Once my face showed I understood the implication, she revealed I was never meant to be number thirteen, Maria was. The only thing left was for the Curse-er – Page – to have her own blood spilled inside the sacrificial circle by the Curse-ee – me – which was now complete. Essentially, this means she will soon rise from the dead and plague me for eternity, but unfortunately for her, that shit is bunk.

If I thought for two seconds it were true, I would have shot myself then and there – which is probably what she was hoping for – but we live in the real world. So I watched her die with a smile on my face, then ran upstairs to find Bill calling for backup.

And now you know why I named this stream Final Cut.

Six months later…

Alright Night Crawlers, listen up – we gotta make this quick; Sarah will have all your hides if I’m late for date night. I just wanted to introduce part three of The Eternal Night series, Months of Night… and while I’m here anyway I might as well tell you about this trippy dream real quick. I’m clearly still adjusting to the fact Aiden abandoned us for the big, scary college world; [sniffle] hah, sorry, just a joke in case he’s listening.

So, the dream – I was at the cemetery, visiting Amber’s grave, but all of a sudden – I realize I’m actually looking at Page fucking Turner’s tombstone! If that wasn’t bad enough it got dark and stormy but I couldn’t leave; I was just stuck in place and hearing weird noises from everywhere. Then, when I can finally take a few steps forward, I trip and face-plant it across the psycho’s grave. As I try to get up, a hand shoots out of the ground and grabs my face! Ugh, it sucked—

… Hold up, let me ban this fool real quick; we don’t play that shit anymore.

Can you believe people are still doing that? How long do you think that loser lurked around with their display name as Page Turner waiting to make a remark like that? We don’t exactly discuss her often. [mocking] “Are you sure it was a dream?” What a douche. Oh well – push you later, Crawlers.

Horror Fiction

Stay Tuned… (Pt. 3)


I’m honored to introduce part 3 of the On Nightmare’s Edge series written specially for the exclusive use of my good friend Nightmare’s Edge. He owns it, and it may not be used in any way/shape/form without his express written consent! No exceptions!

Here’s the link to his narration, he does fantastic work - make sure to sub while you’re there!

Now a CreepyPasta

Photo by Lady Nopeingham


I hope all my Night Crawlers feel as good as I do this evening! The fact we have 317 people in the chat is mind boggling enough, but if you would’ve told me we’d eventually hit 10k subs – even a year ago – I wouldn’t have believed it! That being said, I wanted to offer a quick thank you to everyone and a big welcome to our newcomers!

It was also great to see a positive response to A Story of Strife; it’s been a long time since I was that nervous about a premiere, but with encouragement from family and friends – I decided to take a chance. Over the next few months I’ll see if we can get another one up.

As for tonight, it’s time for our live Sunday classic! This week, I’ve modernized The Monkey’s Paw; it’s one of my personal favorites and it had hundreds of requests.

Would you make a wish with the paw? Let me know in the comments! 

Since everyone is eager to get started, here we g— [gunshot / shattering glass]

What the fu— [ multiple gunshots / woman’s scream / chair falls]

Amber! [footsteps running away / dirt-bike]

[dead air]

Several weeks later…

[ice clinking] For those of you who don’t use Twitter, I’m sure you’ve been wondering just what the fuck. Me too [huff]! Ohh, Life is such a bitch, ain’t she?

To put it simply, Amber is dead; I’m now a… widower. So. [sips drink]

Yep, those sounds were gunshots; cameras recorded the whole goddamn thing! The shooter was a man… tall… leather motorcycle outfit… huge, black helmet with a visor… [chugs drink]

Still ain’t caught the sum-bitch. I know what you’re thinking, and Turner remains locked away – snug as a poisonous bug – but police are combing through her correspondence to see if she’s involved. Apparently she has a following of sickos who enjoyed her work. Had I known sharing my story would get her famous… I’d never… not for a million subs, not ever!

Fucking bitch… [pours drink] oh, and if you haven’t noticed, I’m off the wagon – the wagon is fucking dead. [chugs] I don’t know when I’ll post what… but since the boys are staying with my sister, I got drunk enough to tell you what happened that night.

You’ll remember the kids were visiting my parents in Florida – thank goodness – and Amber was downstairs with a glass of wine and a movie, waiting for me to finish that stream. The bastard walked his bike down the driveway, opened fire into the front of the house, then drove away. Monsters are real… never doubt that.

Eddie was in the upstairs hallway, waiting outside my door, and judging by the empty wine glass… we think Amber was probably going for a refill when… it happened. The bullet tore through her chest, and she bled out onto our floor… right in front of me.

Everything is a blur after that; I don’t think I could remember if I tried… it’s not like I was sober for any of it. Telling the boys was the worst thing I’ll ever do in my life… that and the funeral. We all must endure planning a loved one’s funeral at some point, but I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy… so many tedious details… none of which matter.

I’m on a first name basis with police; Detectives Andy and Juan are running the investigation; they’re good men, but I lost hope of catching the prick early on. The dirt-bike was abandoned in a parking lot across the state line, but yielded no tangible leads. Now, it’s two weeks later, and we still have no fingerprints, DNA, or suspects.

I’d happily spend the rest of my life in jail if I could just get my hands on Turner… but that’ll never happen… bitch isn’t even in the same state anymore. I don’t care what the cops do or don’t find – she is involved! You guys see that, right?… Did I tell you that her lawyer tried to contact me on her behalf?! Said she wanted to apologize! Ha! [sips] [barks]

[spill drink] Damnit, Ed! Ugh, well… that’s it, anyway. [grumble] Now you know. I’m not sure when I’ll be back, but I’ll update on Twitter in a few days…

Three weeks later…

Hello, Night Crawlers. I know it’s early, but there are reasons for that.

  1. Thank you for your unwavering support and patience; your condolences and well-wishes have been an immeasurable comfort.
  2. It’s best to do this during school hours… for now, at least.
  3. I wanted to be sober, and while I’ve been better since the boys came home… I still can’t trust myself.
  4. I have an update on the investigation.

Lady Nopeingham and Lily Livers spoke to a few friends, and now the online sleuthing community is investigating our case! These guys are A-class and each one has solved multiple murders. Their channels are linked in the description; I hope you’ll check them out.

Honestly – at first… I was upset, and the detectives were furious. You know how I feel about strangers poking around in my personal life… plus I was certain they wouldn’t find anything… but then they did! There’s a moment when the asshole tilts his head to reveal a small neck tattoo, but we couldn’t get a decent image; Sleuth-Scope Steve could! After a few days on the internet – someone emailed a valid tip!

Casey Devon and his girlfriend saw the same weird symbol on a busboy down in Kalamazoo. They were in a dive-bar on the way home to Indiana and happened to see Steve’s video the night before. What are the odds? Finally, something went our way!

The detectives thanked Steve for his tip, but still wanted him off the case; I, on the other hand, was sold. I welcome and thank their community from the bottom of my dead, shredded heart. My renewed hope for catching this bastard has given me one more reason to wake up in the morning.

Juan and Andy ran a background check on the man; Davy Richardson is a convicted felon who has worked at the Gorilla Grill for two years. They weren’t eager to share more, but I learned he did ten years for armed robbery and sexual assault. There was no apparent correspondence between him or Page, but that doesn’t mean anything; even if they didn’t exchange letters, he still could have done it because of her – like some kind of psychotic tribute! Since his release, he hasn’t caused trouble; his parole officer considers him rehabilitated, but I really feel like this is the guy; I feel it in my bones!

I think Eddie can sense it, too; he’s been in better spirits the last few days; his depression runs as deep as our own. Each night, he crawls onto her side of the bed… often whimpering softly in his dreams… just like Daddy. We aren’t ashamed of our man-cuddles; the nights are lonely, cold, and endless. Conner is still sleeping on the cot in Aiden’s room… it’s so hard to see them suffer; they’re having terrible nightmares, but nothing seems to help.

Sorry… I have a hard time staying on point these days. The detectives interviewed Davy; he prattled off a worthless alibi, but it only took two hours to tear it apart. At that point, they secured a search warrant; unfortunately, no one was home. Like myself – you probably aren’t surprised… but the plain-clothed officers responsible for watching him were very surprised!

This is not a friendly neighborhood where civilians are eager to help police; the few who spoke only did so to further impede the investigation. That was three days ago, and no one has seen or heard from Davy since. With the help of Steve and his friends, there’s hope he’ll be spotted soon; we’re fairly certain he fled the state, but the internet’s reach is limitless! Eventually, he must show his face somewhere!

Thanks again for taking the time to listen! If you can spare a moment to check out those links – we appreciate every share; you never know when it will reach that one person who can help! Hopefully, I’ll be back to push you again soon!

Two days later…

It feels weird to record this offline… but I can’t risk Turner hearing it, and I’ve come to rely on this outlet. I’m not sure when you’ll really see this, but it’s been two days since my last stream. I hope these don’t become legitimate Lost Tapes, but if someone finds these years later – it’s absolutely because I’m dead. [sigh]

It happened… she’s out; she escaped! How the hell does someone escape a max security psych-ward in real life?! With help, for starters! It was Davy, right? It all lines up; it must be him!…

My first instinct was to ship the boys back to Florida, but what if she went there instead? I would be two-thousand miles away – completely useless!… Why don’t I go too, you ask? Thanks, great question!

What happens when she follows us, and it gets my parents killed as well? When I’m finished here, we’re going to a hotel… though, it’s only a temporary solution. The cheapest place that allows dogs is more than we can afford, but with help from family – we have the funds for a week’s stay. If they don’t find Turner before that… I don’t know.

I’ll be watching the cameras nonstop… and some police officers will be inside – hopefully making it look like we’re home. They even drove us to the hotel so both vehicles would be there… now you see why I couldn’t record live.

Why can’t this be over; why can’t we grieve in peace? Hasn’t she taken enough? What’s the price for not narrating a terrible story? I’d send her my own ear in a box if I thought it would appease her! If two boys weren’t depending on me – I would have broken long ago… sometimes, I dream of disappearing into the forest when Conner graduates from college…

Three days later…

Hopefully, this is my last non-live recording; it’s been three days since the first part. They won’t share specific details – but the detectives say they have reliable information that Turner and Richardson are laying low in San Francisco. FBI agents are in the area investigating further, and they’re confident in deeming it safe for us to return home. Please excuse me while I chuckle at their assurances… but we’re at least going to finish the week here.

I would stay the extra nights regardless, but for the record, Steve and his fellow sleuths are less than convinced of their whereabouts. They haven’t found anything new, but they’ve already done more than I can ever thank them for; I’m just grateful they’re still searching.

One thing I can rest assured of is that I won’t sleep a wink tonight. Each time the police leave – that witch bitch waltzes her Crazy back into my life and she… just fucking fucks it! Oops… I’ll need to edit that one out – geez it’s easy to get carried away when no one’s listening… I’ve never wanted to throat punch a bitch so bad… fuck. Ugh, [muttering] ok – be serious man – you can’t keep pulling this shit and expect to stay over 10k. Shake it off fuck-face; you got mouths to feed, and work-leave only goes so far.

[deep breath] If nothing happens, we’ll go home in two days. Don’t get me wrong; I hope like hell she is in California… but when have I been that lucky? Maybe if I kill myself she’d leave the boys alone… worth considering at least… I think it would cross any parent’s mind – especially after losing a spouse… but I couldn’t do that to them; they would never forgive me. They might not forgive me as it is… and I can’t blame them; it’s my fault their mother is dead.

Anyway, that’s it for now, hopefully you’ll hear this in a few days.

Four nights later…

Good evening, Night Crawlers. Has everyone had a chance to listen to the video I posted last night? On the bright side, they’re officially not Lost Tapes! If you did see it – I’m sorry for forgetting the edits, but you’ll understand why momentarily; if you didn’t see it – we went to a hotel for a week and police believe Page and her goon are in California.

Tonight, I mostly wanted to check-in with everyone to say I recorded The Monkey’s Paw – it’ll be up in a few hours; the wait is over! I also want to share a little surprise we received in the mail yesterday. So many bills and condolence cards are piled up – I was ripping stuff open without looking… then I found an old-fashioned ransom note; the letters spelled “Stay Tuned!” – I got you a picture.

Photo by Nightmare’s Edge

There was nothing else with it, and I called the police right away. They confirmed it was mailed from San Francisco which only further proved their theory… but I can’t help feeling it wouldn’t be that difficult to have a letter sent… Besides, she clearly has no issue with crossing the country on a whim! Even if she is in California, that doesn’t mean she plans to stay there. Sooner or later, she’s gonna come back, and we aren’t capable of hiding indefinitely.

She probably intends to make her little stories into a trilogy, but I guess we’ll have to Stay Tuned to find out, ha! Tell you what, though – if she does send a new story, I’m gonna read every damn word!

That’s all for now, I hope you enjoy tonight’s video; I’ll push you later!

Next week…

It’s really never going to stop is it? I know there should be a new story today, but I… I just couldn’t…

Thank you, Lady. I’m so sorry all… this ruined our collaboration; I was really excited about your story. Hopefully, we’ll have another chance to work together, but your video is amazing and I linked it in the details!

As for tonight’s stream, all I can tell you is what happened since we last spoke. The next night I woke at 3am from a horrifying nightmare and couldn’t fall back asleep. In the dream, I got out of bed to look for Eddie and heard a strange sound upstairs. It was almost like a grandfather clock or a dog running on concrete – but softer, padded taps…

The house was in complete darkness, and when the kitchen light failed to turn on – I realized we lost power. A bright flash of lightning illuminated the room for a split-second, and a torrential downpour ensued as thunder shook the ground. I was only wearing boxers and didn’t have my phone; using the walls as a guide, I stumbled my way to the utility room.

Another lightning flash cast an eerie blue shade onto everything, and I could see a flashlight on the shelf above the dryer. I even remember cursing as I stubbed my toe while trying to reach it…

The beam was weak, but it allowed me to maneuver without the wall. I called for Eddie as I crossed the den and paused at the base of the stairs… that’s when I heard the sound again. Patters… that’s the best word… and it was coming closer! I shone the light in time to see a shadow dart across the opening and into the hallway before stopping. It seemed too short to be a person but too large to be a dog.

I crept to the middle landing, shining the light in every direction, but saw nothing. All remained silent as I carefully continued my ascent, and the moment my foot touched the top step – the brightest flash of lightning yet revealed a brief glimpse of true horror…

Have you ever been on one of those rides that drop you from high up? Or fell from a great height while playing VR? You know that feeling where you lose your stomach? That’s what I felt; I still remember it perfectly. It was Page… but she was bent over in a backwards crab-walk like some kind of Exorcist bullshit! She was even paler than usual and her eyes moved in different directions while saliva dripped from her open mouth…

I tried to scream but no sound came out as she bum-rushed me from the darkness. The pattering was the last thing I heard as a tangle of bony limbs mowed me down, and rotten fingers wormed into my mouth while stepping across my face. When a heel pressed firmly into my manly-bits, I finally awoke.

That dream bothered me enough to start sleeping in Conner’s room while he’s bunking with Aiden… I wanted to be closer to them; the thought of those stairs between us was driving me insane! I wish there was a way to express how real it all felt. This was beyond anything I’ve experienced, and I’m not exactly a rookie when it comes to nightmares. It hasn’t faded like the others, either; now, with what happened last night… it’s like some sort of creepy forewarning.

To avoid confusion, I think it’s best to tell you everything in the order it occurred. At 3:08, the security footage shows one small person walking down the driveway in night vision goggles! Care to guess who? Hmm? Do you have a clue? Yea, fucking Turner!

She had a laptop and did something to our security system! Even ADT can’t figure it out, but they’re so appalled by the footage – we’re getting free service for a year. Honestly, that’s going to be a huge help on our finances; that part is appreciated…

Page busted the basement window, and crawled inside without waking a soul. Once upstairs, she went straight to my bedroom like she’s walked the path a thousand times.

To understand this next part you need to know I have a body pillow in the bed for particularly bad nights… my therapist recommended it. Turner stood over it – surely assuming it was me – and stabbed it! There was no hesitation; she just lifted a huge hunting knife above her head and mercilessly plunged it into my fake wife’s chest!

She immediately pulled the covers back to discover her folly; you can hear a few escaped giggles as she struggles to control her laughter. I find it more difficult to see the humor considering the strike was meant to end my life… I hate to be an Edgy Downer but there it is.

Next she began climbing the stairs, and that’s when Eddie started barking. They were his deep Danger Barks – I was instantly awake and on full alert. The boys did exactly as practiced and hid in the closet before dialing 911. While getting the gun, I saw Page on the monitors – responding to the noise by sheathing her knife and retrieving her own firearm. At first, it was trained on Aiden’s room; she seemed more afraid of the dog than me, but upon hearing my movements – she became indecisive.

Just as I was ready to confront Turner, I noticed she had her laptop open again. This time, she watched it while pointing her weapon at Conner’s door… she was looking at me through our cameras – using them to aim! I dove to the side – fearing the bullet would come any moment, but the only shots fired were to our cameras. I held my breath waiting for the sound of Eddie’s whimper, but the barking continued unimpeded, and I shook with relief.

After sitting up, I noticed several screens were blank; she didn’t want me to see which way she went. Thankfully, ADT also agreed to replace the destroyed cameras. I’ve never been at such a loss for what to do… I wanted to give chase, but if a gun was trained on the door – waiting for me to open it… only a few more shots would remove Eddie from the equation and leave the boys defenseless; it was too risky. On the other hand… she knew help was on the way and couldn’t afford to wait long…

These thoughts battled each other in my mind until the blue flashing lights recalled me to reality. Officer Davis was first on scene again – Juan and Andy close behind… but there was no sign of Turner.

I hate questioning good fortune… but why didn’t she shoot Eddie? Obviously, I’m grateful, but it seemed like the tactical choice from her perspective. When she had the gun pointed low at Aiden’ door, tears instantly streamed down my face because I knew what was coming… but it didn’t happen…

Like I said… I’m not complaining; the police are back, and the FBI has joined them. We finally feel a little safer; hopefully, we can actually get some sleep tonight.

Anyways… I’ll try to get another story ready by Sunday, but it won’t be a classic. Sorry again for the delay. Push ya next time.

That Sunday…

Hello Night Crawlers, it’s good to see our numbers back over 300! I have a long way to go before things can be on a strict schedule again, but for now we can try to make weekly uploads. Magic Mortimer is ready to go live as soon as we’re finished here, and since there’s new information to share – I decided not to premiere it.

Some of you may already know what I’m going to say if you watched the news, but please don’t spoil it for others; having something good to share is such a rare treat!

Whatever Page did to hack our ADT got the government’s attention in a serious way; this time the police didn’t leave. They’re rotating two teams of local and state police on 12-hour shifts, and a team of FBI agents are supervising around the clock. Having so many people in the house would normally make me anxious, but there’s been a few nights where I’ve actually slept!

The police and cyber-sleuth community are officially in agreement that Richardson and Turner never had direct contact before this happened. As far as anyone can tell – Davy learned about her through my channel and became obsessed.

You know how storage buildings put your shit up for auction if you don’t pay the bill? Davy had one under an alias, and it was auctioned off two nights ago. The buyers recognized the fugitive from the news in old photos and called the cops. There were love poems and fan art clearly dedicated to Page, but it didn’t match the handwriting of anything Turner actually received.

I haven’t personally seen any of these items, but from how they’re referred to amongst the officers… they sound as disturbing as you imagine… maybe more so.

The unit was overflowing with random garbage, but one of the most important clues turned out to be an old date-book. It held many useful tidbits; so far, four cold cases have been solved with its help. It also contained the address of a man named Marv… who coincidentally lived not thirty minutes away from me if you could drive straight through the forest; on the road it’s closer to an hour.

Considering the storage facility was located in Ohio – the Feds thought it worth a look. Marvin Daniels died five years ago, and his shack has been rotting away in the middle of the woods ever since. Three Agents drove out there – expecting to find nothing – but a fresh deer carcass hanging in a nearby tree indicated someone was living there.

Shots were fired before they could make it to the door – forcing the men to retreat and call for backup before initiating further contact. Miraculously no one was injured in the clash, and Richardson ceased fire when the SUV was no longer in sight.

After a five-hour standoff, tear-gas was shot into the shack, and Davy emerged – weapons blazing. His official cause of death is suicide-by-cop – and since no agents were injured – I’m not ashamed to feel gleeful at the bastard’s death; I only wish it were slower…

Every inch of the surrounding area was searched, but the best trackers couldn’t find Turner. We know she was there at some point because they found more witchy idols and another voodoo altar made from bones. They’re still trying to identify the human remains, but the severed head was a male’s. A fishing pole stood mounted to the wall with the decomposing skull on its hook, and a severed hand was secured to the reel. There were also two small, hot bombs; experts believe they were designed to be attached to an animal and remotely detonated.

I won’t rest easy until Page is dead, but for tonight, I choose to focus on the fact my wife’s murderer is gone… and that there are two bombs that can no longer harm our family. If you want to see pictures of the evidence, I’ve linked Steve’s newest video below.

Otherwise, I hope you enjoy Magic Mortimer; thanks for listening, I’ll push you later!


Hey Crawlers, judging by how many are here, you’ve probably figured out that a surprise stream means something big happened. I’ll give Turner one thing – the bitch has infinite patience; she was never going to show herself while the Feds were here. Finding that storage unit was a fluke! She had every intention of laying low until we were alone, and her goon’s death wasn’t going to change that. Finally – the agents agreed with me.

Coordinating a loud, flashy departure of all the personnel and vehicles was more complicated than it sounds. It couldn’t be too obvious… Page might be bat-shit crazy, but she isn’t stupid. Dozens of boxes were carried to the SUV’s, but each one was empty. All the equipment remained in place and a team of special agents watched for any attempts to hack the Wi-Fi. First the Feds cleared out, then the rest trickled away that evening until only Juan and Andy remained.

We took the opportunity to move their car into the garage. While the others lurked nearby – we waited for the cover of darkness to sneak the boys out in Andy’s stead. Aiden is almost seventeen now – and tall for his age; with Conner laying in the back – it would appear as if both detectives left.

I didn’t want to wait for her to come to us; the invasion of our family’s home was vomit inducing, but it was our only option. The hope was to capture Turner before she came close enough to fire a weapon; the curtains were closed, and we stayed away from the windows as an added precaution.

At 2:28am – she made her move. Andy’s phone rang, and we learned something with green and red lights flew over the house and was now hovering above us. It remained still for roughly thirty seconds before shooting straight up and out of sight. We believed she was scouting the location – confirming the coast was clear – it made perfect sense…

We had no idea what was happening as we heard reports of the drone’s collision course. It raced toward us at top speed and crashed into Conner’s window. The glass shattered, and it exploded on impact; had anyone occupied the room at that time – they would have died. Or, had the device flown into the middle of the room instead of being stopped by an entertainment center – the entire house might have burned down.

The smoke detectors wailed into the night while fire and rescue trucks rushed to the scene. Once again, their flashing lights created a false daylight as they surrounded my home. The range for her to operate the drone was limited; search teams scoured the area confident of success, but I knew they wouldn’t find her.

After being cleared by the paramedics, they wanted me to join the boys at the safe-house… but I needed it to be over! She almost burned down our family home; it needs weeks of repairs before we can go upstairs at all! I didn’t even have the gun – just a hunting knife I’ve been keeping on my belt – but I snuck off anyway.

I knew she wouldn’t be too far; she couldn’t miss the show, and I feel like she’s one of those people who must watch her fires burn. First, I crept towards the backside of the house where the trees are most dense – always scanning the area ahead before proceeding. Hesitating at an extremely dark patch where the lights didn’t reach, I hunched even lower and slowly crawled my way across – knife in hand.

Seconds later, the snap of a twig from above froze me in place. Looking up, I saw nothing but an empty tree, and a soft scratching sound baffled me until my eyes began to blur; then, the bark moved! It was only a few seconds, but it felt like an eternity while trying to discern the shape. After finally understanding what I saw, I screamed.

It was Page… upside down, hugging the tree, and wearing the most realistic bark-camo I’ve ever seen. She even had on a face mask and brown-painted eyelids… she looked like a real-life cryptid… it takes the term “Nightmare Fuel” to a new level…

When I started to scream she… she just… dropped. Our heads connected first, and we fell to the ground in a painful tangle of limbs. I continued screaming like a woman while she cackled maniacally. My head ached and spots danced in my vision; I lashed out with the knife, and felt the satisfying rip of flesh before succumbing to unconsciousness. The last thing I heard was her furious screams being drowned in gun-fire.

Upon waking in the back of an ambulance – I learned Turner escaped and tuned the rest out, but a muddy footprint tells me I took a boot to the face as she fled. Her blood was all over me, though we aren’t sure where I stabbed her; the CSI guys said it’s not enough blood loss to kill her, but she’s definitely hurting. She’ll probably see it as one more scar for the collection; I wonder if she even feels pain…

Back at the safe house, I found a note in my pocket when changing clothes. This one said, “I wouldn’t kill a dog for no reason, jackass! I’m not a monster!” Fuck that bitch.

We haven’t decided what to do next, but I’ll try to update you about a new video soon… push ya later.


I know, I know, a next day surprise stream means it’s huge. Well, sort of… this is just going to be a short and sweet update. The Feds got a call from a hospital four hours away; we now have surveillance footage confirming Turner was there. She ducked out before authorities could be contacted, but she did receive treatment for the stab wound. Apparently, my knife went into her mouth and tore through her cheek; she has half of a Joker smile now…

I’m not sure how I feel. Part of me is happy for any suffering I can repay, but another part is extremely disturbed about disfiguring a woman’s face. That probably sounds strange considering I’ve shot her twice now… and yes, I do wish she were dead… but I was trying to protect my family! This was up close… and personal… it feels sadistic… but it was an accident… I only meant to kill her! Ugh, I’m making this sound even worse.

The important thing is – we all know that injury will do nothing to sway her actions… she’ll come after me harder than ever… and all I can do is wait.

While we’re here anyway, there will be a story on Sunday called Periwinkle; I used a blanket fort like the good ole days, but I’m ready to go home. This safe-house is cramped and has a funny smell we can’t get rid of.

[sigh] That’s all for now – see? Short and sweet! Push ya later!


[humbled] Night Crawlers; it’s a new dawn of a new age. No one is here, but I don’t care; this news can’t wait another second. If you haven’t heard – ding-dong motha fuckers; the bitch is dead! Hell, even The Good Boy is celebrating with his own rack of ribs!

[softer] Unfortunately, it’s a somber day as well… good men died while protecting my family, and that is a debt one can never repay. It isn’t much, but I have started a fundraiser for the grieving families; the links can be found below.

I don’t know how she found us, but yesterday morning, a drone flew two circles around our safe-house before disappearing into the sunrise. Snipers were put on alert and reinforcements were called in, but nothing more happened until 2:00pm when a loud, Ford pickup stopped in the middle of the street.

Silently, we watched a small woman hop out of the passenger side and wave goodbye as the driver continued on his way. Page fucking Turner hitched a ride to our safe-house wearing a clumpy winter coat and a bloody patch across half her face. Somehow she looked more terrifying each time I saw her.

Halfway to the door, she was met with two agents yelling for her to get on the ground. Slowly, she raised her hands; the right was curled around a small object; the left revealed a bomb strapped to her torso. The item she held was a deadman’s-switch!

They didn’t know if it was enough explosives to blow up a house or a street, but all attempts to stop her failed. Juan and Andy tried to get us through the back door before she made it inside, but she caught us in the kitchen. She ignored the officers completely and removed her coat; we collectively held our breaths as it slipped over the detonator and onto the ground.

Next she removed her bandage to show us her angry, red smile. I know Joker smiles are overdone and creepy in our community… but shit… I think half of one looks much scarier… especially in real life. If, and only if, you have a strong stomach – you can find a picture from the hospital footage, but I doubt it exists anywhere else; there certainly won’t be any new ones.

Eddie was losing his mind; when we locked him in the bathroom, I thought he would break the door. Page held our full attention but had only one goal. After removing the gun, she threw her bag to me; inside was the story – Stay Tuned. She must have felt invincible at that moment… the only thing she cared about was forcing me to make a video; everyone else was mere distraction.

She wanted us to be left alone to record in peace and didn’t seem to care what would happen after that. I was just happy to see the boys taken away; a heavy weight was lifted at the sight of them driving away with an agent.

The detectives were walking out of the door when she stopped them; a sudden suspicion changed her mind. As if hearing my thoughts – she worried I would try something up if we were left alone. My choices were few at that point, so I began recording.

It’s a little strange though… seriously, think about it; Turner was obviously a very intelligent, capable person… but she wrote like a grade-schooler! [sigh] It didn’t matter… I was on page three when they grabbed her.

Juan had one arm around her neck, and a death-grip on her left arm; Andy threw himself onto her lap and both hands clamped onto her right – securing the detonator. They screamed in unison for me to fetch reinforcements, and that’s exactly what I did.

Page cursed me in a language I didn’t recognize while struggling against the detectives’, but I never spared her a glance. Once outside, the officer-in-charge escorted me past the barricades as a SWAT team prepared to enter. Their lead man was only a few feet away from the door when the house exploded. Andy and Juan were the only fatalities, but there were dozens of injuries.

The only ray of light in this abysmal pit of darkness is the fact Turner is finally dead. I feel like I can finally grieve for Amber properly now. From here on – this will be a new start for our family… and I hope you know that includes my Night Crawlers!

Periwinkle is still ready for tomorrow, but after that I’d like to resume our regular schedule. Also, please don’t forget to take a look at those links. That’s it for now; I can’t wait to push you tomorrow!

6 months later…

Hey Crawlers of Night, I know it’s been a long time since an unscheduled stream – but don’t worry, it’s nothing major. I just wanted to address these ridiculous pictures going around; mainly to assure you all it isn’t me. I’m not sure who is photoshopping pictures of The Bitch into all my stuff, but it’s getting old.

They’re trying to make it look like she’s still alive; the artist clearly wanted her face to appear healed, but the fake scar is a red, jagged mess. I’m a reasonable guy, and there’s a chance you meant well – after all, this is a horror channel – so if you stop now, there’s no hard feelings.

I mean, props on your work and everything. The way you started off with just her face in the background and then brought her closer in each picture is a nice touch! If this wasn’t such a horribly traumatic experience for me – I might even use some. While, yes, the scar was obviously bogus, it’s a perfect score on the Creepy Meter – especially paired with the dark circles beneath her eyes. Basically this is a thanks, but fuck no.

Anyway, that’s all I wanted to say; take care everyone, and don’t forget we have a big announcement this Sunday, stay tuned!

Part 4

Horror Fiction

Next Time… (Pt. 2)


I’m honored to introduce part 2 of the On Nightmare’s Edge series written specially for the exclusive use of my good friend Nightmare’s Edge. He owns it, and it may not be used in any way/shape/form without his express written consent! No exceptions!

Here’s the link to his narration, he does fantastic work - make sure to sub while you’re there!

Now a CreepyPasta

Photo by Lady Nopeingham


Gooood evening, Night Crawlers! I still can’t believe we have over a hundred people in our streams now! Lady, Lore, Disco, Q, Livers, all my original crew – can you guys believe this?

While I’m touched you aren’t surprised, you have to admit it happened fast! I hate to think Name-Her-Not had anything to do with it, but the Coming Soon video has over ten thousand views. At least she isn’t alive to see it; that gives me peace.

Besides, it doesn’t matter why we all became friends, only why we stay friends… right?


The schedule is going to be a little tight now that my promotion is official, but I think we can fit Days of Night into one video if you’re okay with another hour long premiere.

Somehow, I had a feeling you would be. I don’t write often, but I had a weird nightmare the sun stopped coming up, and it definitely felt like a horror story.

Haha, thanks, Lady! I’m glad you’ve enjoyed them, but my plate is overflowing— [barks] Fuck… sorry! …Hope no one’s volume was up…

[talk away from mic] Yea— it’s okay, babe. Can you— yea, can you take him… and shut the— [door closes]

Whew, I’m sorry, seriously! See what I mean? Chaos everywhere. I swear, one of my ancestors pissed off a voodoo queen or some shit.

On the bright side, you officially met Eddie! He’s been dying to say hello… as you heard.

Damn, that’s lots of heart emojis! He returns the sentiments, I assure you, haha.

Looks like it’s about that time anyway – goodnight, Crawlers! I’ll push you next time! Get it? Another Edge/Crawler joke – I’m considering it as my sign-off, do you like it?

Well, the masses have spoken; so sayeth they all!

6 days later…

Hello, my favorite Nocturnal Knee-Walkers! How’s everyone tonight?

Great! I know you’re all surprised to see a stream today, but I need to discuss something important. I’m not angry… we understand you meant well… but someone submitted a sequel to Coming Soon…

I see how some would think it’s a good idea given the amount of attention it received, but the video wasn’t released with that intention. Our family went through an extremely difficult time, and part of my healing process was to share that experience with a few close friends. I never dreamed it would become popular, and while I’m grateful for new friendships – it’s not a story we wish to continue… and titling it Next Time was in poor taste…

It’s okay. As I said, I’m sure no ill-will was intended…

No, Lady, I didn’t recognize the email – and I’m not here to call anyone out – but moving forward, we appreciate if everyone can respect our wishes in this matter.

Oh, and while we’re here, Days of Night will premiere tomorrow at 7:30.

Haha, I’m excited too; I’ll push you later!

The next night…

Alright, let me have it; what’d you think? I know it’ll never be a HBO series, but I honestly kind of like this one.

Aw you guys are making me blush, but no – part two is definitely out of the question! My promotion came with longer hours; there’s barely enough time to record as it is.

Haha, that’s hilarious – but sure, if we can get this channel monetized, I’ll write all the sequels you want. In fact, if I can ever do this full time, we can have random stories on weeknights and series continuations on weekends… not that I’ve been obsessively planning or anything… it was just an off-the-cuff type idea…

Ahh, only the truest of friends feed your delusions. The cold void that is my soul feels warmed and tingly.

While everyone is particularly happy with me, I have a touch of bad news. Next week’s premiere is canceled for work travel.

I know, I hate it too, but they’re sending me to some corporate retreat / teamwork training bullshit. It honestly just sounds like a weekend by the lake, but either way – I won’t have time to record. Maybe I can still get a few Peephole Shorts on TikTok – we’ll see!

I drive down Friday afternoon and come home Sunday evening; at least it’s only two nights away from home. Don’t tell anyone, but I’m gonna miss Eddie so much it already hurts [sigh]… oh, and the rest, of course.

I guess that’s it for now, push ya later!

2 weeks later…

I know you expected to hear from me sooner, and I feel terrible for making you wait. As you’ve probably guessed, there is no story for tonight… I’m sorry about that, too. It doesn’t feel like I’m being overly dramatic, but it will probably sound that way when I explain why.

I never dreamed to find myself sharing another personal experience, but here we are. I thought hard about it, and honestly I’m still not sure if I’ve made the right decision… but I can’t allow one disturbed lurker to take this channel away; if I want to share something with my friends, then dammit, that’s what I’m doing! [fist bang table]

If anyone would like to retrieve their alcohol or smokables, do so now.

Everyone ready? Okay. So, this “retreat” was two hours away at a lake in the middle of nowhere – it doesn’t even show on Google Maps. It has a complicated Ooga-boga-toga kind of name. There was no reception or WiFi; they claimed it was another “bonding” aid, but I’m thinking it has more to do with lack of availability.

We shared six semi-decent cabins between 24 people; it could have been worse space-wise. Splitting a bathroom with three strangers wasn’t ideal, but they said it was somehow also part of the bonding. Let’s pretend that’s less creepy than it sounds because we have a lot to cover.

My bunkmate was a decent guy; I’d seen Gary around the office, but this was the first time we really spoke… huh. Okay… maybe there is something to that bonding jazz, but we don’t have to admit that elsewhere.

The weird shit started when we met our Cheer Leader… not cheerleader… but our Leader of Cheer. It’s exactly what it sounds like. Her name is Karen Newcomb, and she’s easily the most hyper woman I’ve ever encountered. You’d never expect so much pep in a tiny package; I don’t know if she had cocaine in her sugar or just makes the kinda money that buys happiness – either way I wanted some.

I played their game and smiled with social grace like my livelihood depended on it – because it did – but, honestly it wasn’t worth it. Saturday morning, we were gathered by the lake when Karen introduced herself and got right to work.

We paired off with our bunkmates and were forced to do the falling backwards trust exercise, but she added an extra spin. The catcher asked their partner a personal question, which was answered after the faller was caught. Sounds simple enough if you’re okay sharing your personal information with strangers, but I’m not too keen on it these days.

A few jerks thought it was funny to drift towards awkward questions, but when Karen encouraged “secret sharing” some people got downright brutal. My dislike for the Cheer Queen evolved to hate faster than I normally judge character flaws – but I can’t stand cruelty for sport.

I was extremely lucky to have Gary as a partner; we laid low, keeping it simple with birthdays and pet names while tempers were tested around us. That woman thrived on drama… or she’s a master of uniting people under a common enemy – either way, no thanks.

She enjoyed a long day of torturing us with various mind-fucks before we were finally released for dinner and “evening recreation” which supposedly meant we could do whatever we wanted until bed. The only thing I cared about was sleep; the longer I slept – the faster time passed.

It was 8pm when I laid down and fell into a dreamless abyss, but I soon found myself with a bladder screaming for release. I remained in a half-delirious state while trying to estimate the amount of time passed and if I were still alone. After several silent minutes, I felt confident of my solitude, and mentally prepared for a mad, robe-less dash to the restroom.

There’s no way to convey how it felt to be certain I was alone… sleeping, and to… to open my eyes and have a face mere inches from my own! In one instant I took in her hot, peppermint breath and stray lipstick… she was smirking. As she slowly backed away, I felt myself shrinking into the corner, pushing my body against the wall to maximize the small distance between us.

I felt violated – there’s no other word. Then she had the nerve to pretend her actions were completely reasonable! She wanted to know why I wasn’t interacting with the group! So I asked, “Can you please define recreation?!”

I agreed to go purely to make her leave faster. While dressing, I saw it was 10:15 and almost got back in bed. The only thing that stopped me was the fear of Karen’s return, but when I stepped into the dimly lit night, I almost bumped into her. She was kind enough to wait for me in case I had difficulties finding the large bonfire.

We couldn’t just walk in silence either; she asked increasingly private questions focusing on how I spend free time. I tried saying basic things – like sports – but she kept nagging for a specific answer. Finally, I lost her by squeezing onto a log between Gary and a fat guy. You’ll never guess what activity Karen felt the need to drag me out there for – ghost stories!

Yup, I swear before all the gods of light and dark – that bitch forced me out of bed to insist I tell the first tale! Well – I wasn’t having it – no way. If she knew about this channel, she would have to admit it, because I wasn’t.

I told her horror wasn’t really my thing, [snicker] and that even if it were – I wouldn’t feel comfortable playing storyteller; most impressive was my serious demeanor. I think the right amount of pressure can make anyone a good liar. It was clear the others were growing uncomfortable at her relentless insistence, but I’m the only one who understood the flash of fury that crossed her otherwise composed face.

When her dark eyes were locked onto mine, I physically recoiled. Every time I stole a glance in her direction, she was staring at me. By this point, there was little doubt as to her awareness of the channel; the only mystery remaining was that of her intentions. I mean… she’s clearly not a fan, right? We weren’t allowed to retire until midnight; it was ridiculous!

At dawn, a loud trumpet woke us for breakfast. Roughly 100 yards behind the cabins stood a larger house where we gathered for meals. It was also where Karen slept so I didn’t like to be near it on principle.

The day was only the normal kind of terrible; aside from a few stray comments and suspicious looks, Cheer Queen didn’t push me too far until that night’s campfire. I wasn’t dumb enough to believe the recreation lie again – this time I followed the pack like a good little sheep. We went through the scary story dance again until I finally told the shortest possible version of “The Call is Coming from Inside the House”. I swear – I got it done in two minutes, and Karen’s look of angry disappointment was worth every second.

I’ll admit, when we were finally allowed to retire, I was feeling pretty smug. My brain should have been on autopilot – performing the minimum requirements necessary to retain my job – not going into overdrive and participating in head games with likely unstable individuals, but if I had to do the work anyway, I’m pleased with the victory.

How I was ignorant enough to believe it was over – I’ll never understand; maybe I was just relieved to know it was our last night in that hellhole. Fuck, I would have got into my car that very second – job be damned.

I was only asleep for an hour when a soft noise woke me. At first, I tried to ignore it – thinking it was one of the guys in the bathroom – but the more I listened, the more defined it became. Finally, during a brief pause in Gary’s snoring, I recognized the sound of fingernails on glass… tapping.

Obviously my first thought was Karen, but the logical part of me thought “No, that’s too crazy.” I’m disappointed in myself to say the least. Slowly, knowing the window was in my direct line of sight, I peeked open one eye – just enough to reveal a blurry shape across the bottom panes.

To see it clearly, I wiped away fresh eye goop, and my vision focused in time to see a person ducking out of sight. Even without distinguishable features, it was obviously Karen. By then I was furious; I rushed to the window, trying to catch a glimpse of her direction, and saw movement in the next cabin’s hedges.

I was putting on my last boot when I finally came to my senses. What would happen if a large man ran to confront a tiny woman in the middle of the night? How would things look to outside parties? I’ll never know if that was her plan or not, but I don’t care. For twenty minutes I laid staring at the window before drifting back to sleep.

I woke to more tapping shortly after 3am. When does she sleep?! This time, I leapt from bed in one loud, clumsy motion, hoping to give Karen a good scare.

I’m really losing my mind. That bitch got me so wound up that I saw Name-Her-Not’s sorry face – clear as day – for the split second she remained visible. I couldn’t sleep again after that, and I wasn’t okay at all Sunday. Gary thought it was a nightmare since he snored too loud to wake, and Karen kept winking at me; I felt like I would snap any second.

When we were finally released, I raced home like someone was chasing me – constantly checking my mirrors for signs of pursuit. I thought I’d be okay after making it home, but the nightmares and paranoia are back in full swing. I thought I was finally past all that…

Anyway, that’s why it’s been so long… I’ll get something special prepared to push you next week. For now, I’ve kept you too long, thanks for listening, Crawlers!

One week later…

[tired] Hey there, Night Crawlers. Sorry I haven’t been around much this week, but no matter what – you were getting a story. I hope you liked Meeper’s Keepers as much as I did. If nothing else – it’s original.

That’s great to hear; I wouldn’t mind a few more from that author.

I’m sorry, Lady, I know I don’t sound like my usual self, but I really am trying… things haven’t exactly been better since last time we spoke. Aside from increasingly annoying nightmares – we woke to find a gutted hog lying across our driveway yesterday.

You guessed it, Lore… just out of camera shot. I’m sorry, but are there any of you who think a wild animal coincidentally killed it there? Because that’s what police think, and I swear—

Nope, not doing it. I’m not getting worked up again.

Nah, seriously, don’t worry about us; we’re fine… it’s the principle of the matter – like, when is this shit going to end?

You know what, Disco? I think that’s exactly what I’m going to do; go to bed early. My brain needs to stop for a bit, but have no fear, next week’s video will be here. I’ll push you next time!

4 days later…

[ice clinking/glass slams on table, heavy thud/sitting] … are you out there, Bitch? [chug, heavy breathing – disconnect]

The next morning…

[humble] To those of you unfortunate enough to witness the… incident before it was deleted, just know I humbly, sincerely apologize; I’ve never been more ashamed of my actions, and it will never happen again.

To those of you who did not see it – consider yourself lucky. Yesterday was particularly hard for our family – and as a result – I drank a bit too much. Around 1:00, Drunk Edge decided to start a stream; again, I cannot express the depths of my remorse.

I appreciate your patience and understanding more than you know. My little episode cost me four subs, but I expected more. At least I caught one break with this happening on the weekend; there’s no way I could have made it to work feeling this way.

Aiden had a ballgame last night, so we didn’t make it home until late… I immediately knew something was wrong because Eddie ran to greet us as we came down the driveway. He’s never left outside; he’s treated exactly the same as our sons. When he ran through the headlights, I was mortified to see dark, crimson stains on his head and chest.

Amber gasped loudly, and I knew she saw it too. We shared a knowing glance at the boys, relieved to find headphones on and their glazed stares concentrated on glowing screens. I parked without waiting for the garage to open and frantically searched Eddie for injuries.

He didn’t have a scratch; someone else’s blood was caked into his fur – especially around his mouth. I signaled Amber to wait in the car and cautiously crept alongside the house. My legs felt like I was walking underwater, and when I saw the front door swinging in the breeze – I almost Noped out of there.

I looked at Eddie once more and realized he seemed a little too happy. If someone were still here… alive… the dog would be on top of them, but instead, he was kinda… strutting. A closer inspection of the front door left no doubt it was kicked in, but nothing else seemed disturbed. I checked every nook and closet twice before giving the all-clear to Amber and the boys.

I ran to the monitors next – eager to see da fuq – and was surprised to see six blank squares amongst the ten. Until that point, shock was the prevailing emotion, but at the sight of camera fuckery – I lost it. It took only a moment to confirm they were gone; I watched the entire footage on my laptop.

At 11am, when the house was sure to be empty anyway, a dirty homeless man drunkenly stumbled into view from our long driveway. He had greasy, unkempt hair, a red, flannel button-up, and black jeans riddled with holes. In his hand was a scrap of paper he checked often, and from the way he systematically removed each camera – game cams included – it’s safe to bet it listed their locations.

From that point on, we only have one view of the front door from our entry hall. Nothing more happens for eleven minutes, then suddenly there’s a loud crash as the door is kicked in. The homeless man could be seen holding – what looked to be – a handful of raw meat.

Instantly, loud, furious barking erupted, and the intruder shakily held his offering aloft. Well – Eddie was having none of that shit; he didn’t hesitate to latch onto the hobo. You could hear the man’s arm break as his screams filled the air; he lashed out in desperation but couldn’t break the pit’s hold. Finally, after falling to the ground, he grabbed a chunk of splintered wood.

Somehow, he managed to free himself for a split second, but when Eddie lunged for another bite, he found the intruder’s crotch. At that moment, I almost felt bad for the guy. Eventually, he gave up fighting in favor of retreat, using his remaining arm and legs to drag himself away… supposedly to whoever brought him here. Around this time – thanks to enhanced audio – if you listen very carefully, you’ll hear a car peeling out as it leaves him behind.

Twenty-six minutes after Eddie and the intruder exited the camera’s view, The Good Boy returned with the previously mentioned strut. You’ll be glad to hear he has since been treated to a rib-eye of the finest quality for his unwavering loyalty and bravery.

We called the police, and yes, we are as sick of them as they are of us. They were less than polite until the body was discovered tangled in the backyard’s shrubbery – which also happens to be Eddie’s favorite place to hide bones – just FYI. After that they were forced to actually investigate.

Now you know everything we know… officially, anyway… I’m sure I’m not the only one thinking about Karen – I just don’t understand why! Why would she do any of this? Or the stuff from the lake for that matter?! I’ll update when we know more, thanks guys – push you later!

The next night…

This was unexpected, I’m sorry I couldn’t give you more notice – but it’s really good to see my closest friends are here since this is specifically for you. I don’t know what to do anymore; I’m falling apart. We’ve had another incident, and Amber wants me to quit the channel…

I know, trust me, I know! I don’t want this either… but it’s putting my family at risk! Fuck, do you hear how insane that sounds? [ice/glass clink]

[sips drink] The thing with Name-Her— fuck it – the thing with Turner was a one-in-a-billion chance! I’m not famous, probably never will be – but that psycho bitch decided to fixate on me for whatever reason – fine!

Even though it took over six months just to physically recover, it doesn’t matter because she’s dead! Gone! Shat out by a bear and fertilizing these very woods! [ice clink]

My family never blamed me for what we went through, not once… but I could tell they weren’t thrilled when I started recording again. They know how important this is to me, so they kept silent – yet here we are again. [sip]

Hell, I’m not the only one who still has nightmares… we all do… often. Everyone except for Eddie… [sigh] I’d really hate to know where we’d be if it weren’t for him. Honestly, I’d have to be a selfish bastard to keep doing this… especially after last night…

Ha, fuck it, if this is our final stream – let’s go out with a bang! How’s that sound? I don’t throw around the L word often, but I really do love you guys; I’m glad it’s just the few of us here tonight, like the old days. [clink/sip] Well, let’s do this right – go get your vices and settle in.

By time the last official vehicle left it was almost midnight; the boys were in bed – Eddie included – and I wanted nothing more than to follow suit. Unfortunately, I had security measures to enforce; I know you don’t want to think about expenses when it comes to protecting your family – and that’s obvious for people who have money – but we need food, too. When Turner died, there was no reason to expand on what we had…

Anyway, I was already determined to call ADT first-thing, but in the meantime, I decided to move two cameras outside. The gun’s weight was comforting, but Eddie was securely tucked with Conner, and he was my preferred defense.

I didn’t try anything fancy; it was enough to have the driveway and house covered. Though it shames me to admit, it really did seem like Karen would stay away after such a massive failure. She got a man killed for fuck’s sake! [sip/clink]

When placing the last camera… I couldn’t find a flat surface and didn’t feel like dragging out the ladder. There’s a small crevice near the corner – just barely out of reach – where I thought it would balance… [sip] so I used the gutter to pull myself up. As you probably suspect, it fell – all the way to the ground, right along with me.

Initially, I thought the noise came from that, but when another loud bang sounded in unison with shattering glass – I began to understand. Then Amber screamed in a gut wrenching way I’ve never heard before, and I knew a fear not even Page Fucking Turner managed to instill.

I had another one of those episodes where everything seemed slow and clear. As two final shots destroyed another window, I rolled into the bushes, careful to keep my head to the ground. Once there, I heard retreating footsteps and almost pursued, but I couldn’t delay checking on my family.

On the slowest run of my life, I noticed two broken windows – our bedroom and Conner’s. I hope you can understand how literal I’m being when I say it felt like my organs were contracting into a single, fine point.

Inside, I almost felt relief at the sound of Amber’s fresh sobs coming from upstairs; it meant she wasn’t lying dead in our bedroom… then I remembered the look of Conner’s shattered window and began the next leg of an eternal sprint.

The first thing I saw when entering my son’s room was the red-speckled stuffing scattered across his bed. It was like walking through a picture frame – everything was frozen in place, awaiting inspection. Next I spied the hole in his pillow… but there was no blood in that spot… only white fluff. Finally, I felt the hard pulls on my arm, and realized the faint buzzing sound was actually a voice. [pour drink, hiccup]

Aiden was talking… I couldn’t make out his words, but he was pointing… I turned to the indicated direction to see Amber rocking Conner, with Eddie at their feet. Con had his arms wrapped around his mother, and that’s when I saw where the blood came from. I’m at my limit for reliving this nightmare, so let me skip the rest of the tears and explain what we know now. [gulp drink]

Police suspect Karen found herself a new homeless man because there were two shooters; one had a high vantage point – probably climbed a tree – while the other was on the ground. The first shot would have killed me had the gutter not broken, and the third and fourth went through our bedroom window – but Amber was already upstairs by then. The second bullet went through Conner’s pillow – exactly where his head lay moments before… he didn’t know what was happening… he… he woke up to Eddie biting his wrist… dragging him from bed… the blood was from his arm…

Needless to say… yea… I’m sorry, I really need to go now… [spill drink/knock stuff over]

3 months later…

[nervous] Hi there, Night Crawlers; shit, I’ve missed you so much. Thank you for being here, I know I sounded pretty rough last time we spoke, but I’m seven weeks sober today! While I wouldn’t go so far as to say we’re okay, we are better – and after the last few months that’s a welcome improvement. I gave some of you a few details via Twitter when it all happened, but now, with my family’s blessing, I would like to give you the full story.

We need to start four days after our last stream; I knew that Karen chick would be back – it’s just how my luck works – and I got the idea to check around the woods. I left work early without telling Amber and took Eddie for a long walk through the forest. About a mile in – just as I was preparing to turn back, I saw something strange hanging from a branch.

The closer I came, the more I saw; spread through the trees like a bad Blair Witch rip-off were bundles of three sticks tied together. Imagine laying two into an X shape, then putting a third straight down the middle – there were dozens!

At first I thought, “ok, the crazy bitch did this just to freak me out”, and I think that was a reasonable assumption to make – even now. It seemed like a smart way to ensure someone would stick to a certain path… one where a few bear-traps were concealed, maybe? Well, I felt smart for thinking of it… even if we didn’t find any.

Using a long stick for a staff, I continued following the strange idols, although keeping Eddie behind me was a challenge. He instinctively wanted to be in front, but I’d never forgive myself if he got hurt out there. The anger I felt was overwhelming… the audacity someone must possess to go to such lengths!

For half a mile we continued until the path diverged to each side – with the idols becoming larger and more frequent. There had to be hundreds more hanging in the branches to encircle a quarter-acre clearing I’d never noticed. It was well hidden; the surrounding foliage was dense, and the trees bent to form a canopy that concealed it from above.

That’s when I noticed new shapes mixed in among the stick figures; in addition to the triangles – there were small bundles of straw twisted and wrapped in twine. I didn’t touch any of it – in fact, I already planned to pay a teenager to take that shit down.

It’s amazing how smart Eddie is… I squatted low, carefully creeping to the clearing’s edge, and he laid flat next to me. I’m not sure what I expected to see, but never in my wildest dreams did I imagine…

On the opposite side from where we sat, a crude shelter was erected; several tree trunks stood scattered around a fire pit, serving as tables and chairs, but there was no movement in sight. We waited twenty minutes before entering the clearing, just to be sure… and, as we got closer… I started to notice the stumps were covered in red stains…

That’s when I remembered the dead hog… and it made sense, you know… if she was hiding way out here – she’d need to hunt… but then I turned my attention to the shelter. It incorporated trees as walls, and she did an impressive job stacking logs between them. When she was finished, she stuffed the cracks with moss and mud; it looked exactly like what they build on those survival shows.

That thing took serious work and dedication; it was terrifying to think how long she must have spent building it. Eddie wouldn’t go inside; instead, he stood at the entrance, whimpering. I gave him a comfort rub before proceeding alone and saw a pallet of soft leaves in one corner, split logs being used as makeshift shelves, and a horrifying altar at the opposite side. Real talk – it creeped me the fuck out before I even approached.

It was made from antlers and bones… in the end we learned it was a mixture of deer, human, and boar, but a wider assortment of smaller bones hung in various places. In the center of all this, framed for display, was Heather’s severed head! Sorry… you guys remember her as Karen, but I’m getting to that. The takeaway here was – if she was dead, who else was out there?!

I didn’t want to see anymore; we left quickly, not stopping until safely back home. We endured yet another round of emergency vehicles flooding our property as police dissected the new crime scene, but they remained as secretive as ever. The only thing I’ll say in their favor is, they left two squad cars to watch our home that night – one on each side of the house.

Sleep came unexpectedly fast considering my level of anxiety, but eventually, exhaustion conquers all. Everyone was thinking the same thing, but no one dared say it aloud. “What if Turner didn’t die? What if she’s been out there – hiding in the forest like a secret neighbor?” It was hard to imagine any other explanation…

I tossed and turned from a terrible nightmare where Page was pointing a gun at Aiden while I begged her to shoot me instead… and then she fired. I watched, mortified as my oldest son’s body was riddled with bullets; blood sprayed as I ran to him, but it was too late. I saw the instant the life left his eyes. As I held his corpse in my arms, Amber suddenly appeared – screaming – pulling me away.

More bangs brought me to awareness; I was dreaming, but Amber’s screams were real. There was an honest gun fight happening outside! We raced from the room, staying low as possible, to reach the boys. Images of Conner’s ruined pillow flashed through my mind and I vowed to adopt a second pup.

Thankfully we heard the first window shatter after we squeezed everyone in the bathtub. Shots fired intermittently for over five minutes before stopping; it was twenty minutes after that we received the all-clear. One man was dead, his head popped like a balloon, and one was injured – but luckily he’s fully recovered now. The manhunt continued well into the daylight hours, but the shooter wasn’t found.

Over the next few days we learned about the strange setup in the woods, but the more we learned the more terrified we became. They found DNA from two people out there. One belonged to Page Turner – that’s right, it was confirmed – the Bitch lived. The dead woman wasn’t in the system, and she wasn’t Karen Newcomb, but they could tell she was Page’s sister! From there they found the information for Turner.

After interviews with friends and family, we learned Heather came to Michigan to help her poor sister get back on her feet. She was under the impression a con artist scammed her out of her life savings, and I’ll bet you can’t guess who she blamed in that story! Yes! Me! At some point, Heather found Page’s little campground and… I guess she outlived her usefulness.

Oh, but wait, it gets better! Page is an honest to god witch! She believed in the whole Wicca-pagan-voodoo-ritual stuff! I mean, I’m not dissing it or anything – I know it’s a legitimate practice full of really cool beliefs, but this Bitch was obviously not that kind of practitioner. She didn’t hang all those idols to freak me out; she did it because she genuinely believed in their power. What she expected them to do, I have no clue, but they’re long gone now – removed for evidence – I didn’t even need to pay a kid! It probably goes without saying, but she also submitted the Next Time sequel – I should have known that garbage was her doing…

Aside from the news updates, it was a peaceful two weeks… enough so that the police couldn’t continue wasting their manpower. I’m sure that’s exactly what she was waiting for, too. We have the most expensive package ADT offers and moved a cot into Aiden’s room so Eddie could sleep with both boys… I even moved a bureau to block the window… but it didn’t make me feel better.

I had my cell phone dialed to 911, ready to press call at the first sign of trouble. Sleep wasn’t a problem; our protection was gone and I was sure Turner knew that. A bottle of Benadryl couldn’t have put me down!

We were trying to have a semblance of a normal evening and decided to watch a movie before bed. None of us could handle too much action, so we were happy to let Conner choose one of his cartoons. I pretended to laugh at a bunch of fish jumping over a wall for two hours while I studied the camera app intently – watching for any hint of movement.

When the movie ended and the tv was off, a high-pitched voice filled the room; it was coming from a camera! That Bitch hacked into our Wi-Fi! Eddie was immediately alert, looking around nervously while trying to keep us in sight. I’m sure you’ve heard the Nightmare on Elm Street rhyme: “one, two – Freddy’s coming for you…” – well, she was singing that, but substituting her own name.

She had to be close; instead of waiting to see what happened next, Amber called the police, and I released the gun’s safety before heading outside. I mentally prepared myself to shoot on sight; all I cared about was stopping her before she reached my family. I tried to imagine where I would hide and thought of only one place – the treehouse.

It wasn’t used; it was too dangerous to play in when I was a kid, but it was never torn down. Most of the boards were too rotten to step on, and half the roof was missing, but a small person could hide there if they were careful. I tried to peer around the corner without stepping into sight, but couldn’t see inside. Crawling along the hedges didn’t conceal me from view; halfway across – a bullet whipped past, and slammed into the brick behind me. Debris sprayed my head, and I thought that’s what cut me, but doctors say the wound is more conducive with a bullet grazing.

The shot definitely came from the treehouse; I made the scariest dash of my life as I dove through the open yard to take cover behind our above-ground pool. More bullets sped past, but I somehow escaped further injury.

I was close enough to hear her now; she told them I was dead, shot down and killed instantly. I couldn’t stand the thought of my wife and children – so close yet thinking the worst; I acted on reflex without hesitation. “She’s lying! I’m fine!” I screamed, hoping they heard.

Next, she fired two more rounds, and I heard both puncture the pool. As the water leaked out, I shot four into the treehouse and was rewarded with an ear-splitting scream on number three. No more shots were fired, and I stayed right where I was until police arrived.

They found her unconscious, and I was extremely disappointed to watch them load her into an ambulance, but at least she can’t hurt us anymore… plus she has a nice chest scar to match the one on her gut; I was only five inches from the heart! I hate to admit it’s a little impressive she survived in the woods – injured – for so long, but damn. Maybe there’s something to that Wicca shit, who knows.

Now, we have family therapy twice a month, and honestly – it’s really helping. The boys were skeptical in the beginning, but we were desperate; we didn’t know what else to do.

While I would be happier if Turner was dead I’ll have to settle for a max security mental institution; it’s unlikely she’ll ever leave that place alive. Her sister was her only relative still in touch… but with Heather dead, she’ll be completely alone now; I can’t say I’m sorry.

Look, I don’t know what the future holds for this channel, and while I’m not ready to go back to weekly videos – I do hope I can work my way up to it. I’ve had an easier time with this stream than expected – maybe we can get a new story up before the month is over; nothing too long, just something simple to get my feet wet! If you have any suggestions, send them my way. Thanks again Crawlers, I can’t wait to push you next time!

Part 3

Horror Fiction

Coming Soon (Pt. 1)


I’m honored to introduce part 1 of the On Nightmare’s Edge series written specially for the exclusive use of my good friend Nightmare’s Edge. He owns it, and it may not be used in any way/shape/form without his express written consent! No exceptions!

Here’s the link to his narration, he does fantastic work - make sure to sub while you’re there!

Now a CreepyPasta

Thanks to Lady Nopeingham for the pic!

January 11, 2022

[tap, tap] Hello, um, [clears throat] hey Night Crawlers… if I can still call you that. So, listen, it’s January 11, 2022, and… I know it’s been a while since you heard from me… I’m honestly surprised any of you are here… but if you’ll let me, I’d like a chance to explain.

[deep breath] Those kind enough to be here may suspect the reason, but it goes far beyond what you might imagine. This was a life changing experience for our family, and not for the better… that being said, I truly want you to understand… because we finally feel ready to get our old lives back. For me, that means making things right here.

I transcribed the old live streams and added the events which later transpired. No details are exaggerated; this is not for entertainment. I merely wish to explain my absence and apologize for any resulting inconvenience. So… here we go.

December 13, 2020

Hey guys! It’s 7:30 in Michigan, and I hope you’re doing well this evening! I’m glad so many of you could be here; I know you were hoping for a new story, but I had an unexpected job interview. There’s still a few hours of edits to finish Horror Heyday, then it’s all yours… for sure this time.

Unfortunately, if I want to continue narrating the internet’s most frightening tales, I need to handle these annoying bills. They’re surprisingly vital to producing a quality product for your listening pleasure. Needless to say, if there comes a day when this channel is self-sufficient – the frequency of uploads will increase exponentially.

Since I couldn’t deliver the promised goods, I thought we might try a Q&A. For the next hour, I’ll answer any questions you might have. Most creators can’t say stuff like that – not without inviting a slew of insanely perverted queries – but that’s where we differ. I’ve never thought of you as fans; it’s more like hanging out with friends.

I admit, in the beginning, I was a little terrified of you – but now we have this chill atmosphere that surpassed my highest expectations. Honestly, my appreciation is boundless! Okay, that’s probably enough with the gushy stuff – just know you’ll never be taken for granted… not by me, at least.

Now who has a question?

Ah, Lady Nopeingham wants to know how old I am. Well, Lady, as you can probably tell by my skinless skull, fully matured horns, and melty, red eyes, I’ve been around a hot minute – but best guess… between 950-990…

Sorry, I couldn’t help myself; nah, I’m 43.

It’s probably a good idea to get the basics out of the way, so I have a wife, Amber, and two sons; Aiden is fourteen, and Conner is ten. Oh! And Eddie – our sweet, gently gigantic pit bull is three, and yes, he is very good boy. We rescued him after moving to the country, and he instantly became part of the family.

When Granddad died, we inherited the house, and although we miss him terribly – I’m relieved the boys won’t grow up in a tiny apartment. People always ask if it’s haunted – it has that old/spooky vibe – but it’s definitely not. Pops built this place when he got married, and in all the time since, not one strange thing happened. Even if there was a ghost, it wouldn’t matter; regardless what proof I had, it would look like a cheap publicity stunt.

Seriously though, it’s a great spot! Not only do we have twenty acres situated next to a beautiful, lush forest – there’s also a giant pond in our front yard… welp, I think that qualifies as basics.

Who has another question?

Ooo, CaptainLore wants to know what my recording space is like!

Well, funny you should ask, because it’s a tribute to starving artists everywhere. Currently, my “studio” is a blanket fort inside a closet.

Haha, thanks, Disco Dan! The fact you can’t tell is a huge relief!

What’s next?

Okay Susie Q, I think I can answer that. Actually, several things inspired me to start narrating, but the main factor is my family. I’ve always received compliments about my voice, but I never considered doing anything with it until Aiden and Conner became obsessed with CreepyPastas.

One day, they played Ted the Caver on the living room tv; my wife and I enjoyed it so much, we found ourselves looking for more. After a few days of seeing what YouTube had to offer, Amber suggested I try it for myself. If nothing else, it sounded like fun, and as you guys know – the rest is history!

Oh man, I don’t know if I should answer that, FunDude! There’s multiple authors here, and I don’t think I could choose a favorite anyway. I had a hard time picking which stories to start with because I like them all equally.

Sure, Page! If any of you have something you’d like me to read, email it to NightmaresEdgeBYYP@yahoo.com. I’m happy to consider all submissions!

Alright, who yearns for more? 

Lily Livers, you’re too kind! But no, surprisingly I don’t edit my pitch. Thank goodness, because I’m still learning the finer, technical aspects.

[loud crash] Damn, I bet the next question is— yep, KittyKat is the winner!

The answer to “What the hell was that?” is “I have no idea!”, but Amber is calling so it’s probably safe to guess the boys broke something.

Thanks again for coming, and I’ll see you at the premiere!

December 14, 2020

Hey, hey Night Crawlers! Get it? Like – I’m Nightmare’s Edge – and you have to crawl… because you’re on the edge… what do you think? There’s almost fifty people now, I think that qualifies for our own community nickname!

Hey Livers, Tank, Lady, Lore, Disco, and everyone else – holy crap so many of you now; I can’t keep up! This is a good problem to have, very good! Seriously though, how’s everyone doing?

That’s great to hear! So, how was Horror Heyday? Judging by these comments, it sounds like you enjoyed it! 

As most of you know, our last chat ended with a loud crash. The boys were throwing Eddie’s frisbee around, and – of course – the damn thing ended up on top of the garage.

I know what you’re thinking, and it pleases me to report my kids were raised with enough sense to stay off the roof. Unfortunately, Eddie wasn’t… yes – as in the pit bull. He climbed onto the AC platform and somehow made the jump to the tool shed – but the overhang foiled his final leap. Poor guy bounced all the way to the ground! Amber had to take him inside while I retrieved his love disc.

Haha, oh my! Thine Lady makes me blush! I’m sorry, I did not mean to make that sound sexual!

Woo – now that I can breathe again – I thought you guys might get a kick out of that anecdote…  and fine, maybe I was fishing for story reactions – but I saved the best for last! I got the job! Soon, I’ll be able to upgrade my equipment and really get things kicked off around here!

Thanks guys, I appreciate the encouragement; I’m nervous and excited, but it’s going to be great! I’ll mostly work from home during the holidays, but after New Years, my schedule will be hectic while I get the hang of things.

Wow, it’s getting late so—

No, sorry Page, I haven’t had time, but I’ll be reading submissions later this week. As much as I would love to narrate everything you guys send, there’s more than I can keep up with. Don’t worry though; not using it for the channel doesn’t mean it’s bad – it just means I have more talented friends than I can keep up with.

Alright guys, I’ve got hungry mouths to feed and a wife with only two hands! Take care!

December, 20 2020

Sup Night Crawlers? As you know, it’s that time of year. I have a special holiday Pasta for Christmas, but this will be my last livestream until the day after.

Don’t worry, Q, I won’t be far. Plus, you guys can still catch me on Twitter and TikTok!

Umm… sorry Page. I honestly haven’t read anyone’s submissions. This time of year is always crazy for us – what with the kids being out of school and everything…

Yes, Lady; thanks for the reminder! Some of you expressed wishes to send a gift. Our PO Box is listed below, but listen I seriously don’t want you going through extra trouble. Your support is already the best gift—

Ha-ha, easy, Disco, no need for the Sap Police; I’m simply trying to ensure no one feels pressured, that’s all. Now, I know you have your own families to get back to, so I’ll catch you Crawlers later!

December 26, 2020

Holy shit, Night Crawlers – I almost couldn’t wait, but worried a Christmas summons might be frowned upon so I suffered through it. A lot of you gave donations, and it means the world to us! We’re also overjoyed with your amazing gifts, and I would like to share those with everyone.

Lady, seriously, thank you! I’m wearing the NukesTop5 shirt! “Did you see it?” This is badass, I’m in love!

Disco, you are a true artist! Crawlers! Look what this guy drew! I’ve never looked so dapper!

Now, this last one really blew my mind. Page, I’m telling myself you’re super rich so I don’t feel bad about this drone… because I really love it!

In fact, I have a special surprise! Tomorrow, I’m going to premiere a forest cryptid story with a special video taken by my new toy! I flew this baby all over the property, and the footage came out great!

Oh gosh.. no I haven’t, Page. I’m sorry; tell you what – I’ll read your story tomorrow and shoot you an email as soon as I’m finished!

See you tomorrow, Crawlers; you make a creature’s heart want to beat!

December 28, 2020

I am so sorry I bailed yesterday! We had an intruder, and everything has been hectic. The police were worthless; they didn’t do a goddamn thing!

Wow, I didn’t mean to shout, I’m just… so worked up right now. Everything was going too well; I should’ve known something like this was coming.

I know you’re sick of hearing it, but I really do appreciate the shit out of you; thanks for your concern. I know it’s silly to worry about at a time like that, but I did panic at the thought of you all wondering where the fuck Edge went, haha.

No, seriously though, we’re fine – physically. Amber is a little shaken, Aiden is acting tough, Conner is being a mama’s boy, and Eddie… well… he was pissed but not anymore.

Sorry… I’m all over the place – let me start over, because this is a weird ass story.

After the last stream, I did final edits on the drone footage, checked the doors, peeked in on the kids, and went to bed. It’s the same routine every night; I can’t sleep without knowing it’s done.

Ugh… I shouldn’t have made that stupid joke about a fake haunting – this shit sounds just as bad!

I know you guys believe me, but can we keep this a secret? Because I’m too stressed to deal with trolls.

Man, a slum-dog cryptid like myself doesn’t deserve you. I swear, I’m tempted to pay a writer to put this mind-fuck into fancy words, but we’ll make do.

So picture it – our humble, slightly creepy home in the middle of nowhere, and a family of five soundly asleep. The master bedroom is downstairs, and the boys’ rooms are upstairs. Since they keep their doors closed, Eddie usually sleeps with us.

At 3:18, I woke to a cold, wet face-nudge and heard faint footsteps above us. I would have slept right through if not for our good boy, but one of the kids going into my office puzzled me. It’s not like a movie where Dad’s secret room is off limits;  there’s no locked drawers, nothing! Even more strange was how they seemed to be pacing end to end; like they were searching for something.

Then, there was a loud thud – like something hit the floor – and I lost track of the person as their steps retreated. Eddie showed his displeasure with some out-of-character growling that made me nervous. That’s when we got up to scold whichever genius decided they couldn’t wait for… whatever they were doing – but upstairs, I almost bumped into Conner as he left the bathroom.

I told him, “Get your ass back to bed! You should know better!”

He wore the most pitifully confused face, and I didn’t even wait for a response. Even Ed was ashamed of my behavior; he rudely bumped my leg as he followed Con to bed.

Amber barely grunted when I told her, and didn’t remember anything by morning.

When Eddie followed the boys downstairs for breakfast, I remember thinking he was particularly underfoot – but I had bigger concerns; I asked them outright, “What was so important it couldn’t wait for daylight?”

I know kids lie, but I also know what it looks like when they’re genuinely confused; they had no clue what I was asking! To be sure, I made a joke of it – you know – “We aren’t mad, it’s actually funny in the light of day.” kinda stuff. Nothing!

I’m sorry, I love my sons, but the little bastards are terrible actors. Hell, I was almost ready to entertain the haunted notion, so I took a look around. The front door has three locks, and no one is getting the noisy garage open without waking the whole house. Windows were possible to reach, but impossible to open. When nothing was amiss in the office, I went outside. 

After walking a few pointless circles, I decided to check the mail and call it quits. On the way back, I leaned against a tree to tie my shoe and almost shit myself.

Amber and I quit smoking before we moved here, yet there was a cluster of cigarette butts on the ground – as if someone stood there for a few hours.

I took pictures to show Amber without scaring the kids, but she thought I was overreacting! That pushed me into a deeper investigation mode; those butts weren’t covered in dirt with faded filters – no, those were from this week!

I must have played the previous night in my head a hundred times before it finally clicked. The attic access is in the office… it has one of those trap doors in the ceiling… makes a nice, loud thud when opened. Do you have any idea how many stories I’ve read where a hobo is living in someone’s crawl space?!

Shit, I can’t begin to describe the instant coldness that spread through me; it was bone deep dread. The cigarettes scared me, but when Amber didn’t care… I don’t know… I thought… maybe she snuck them behind my back? There’s a certain level of unreal-ness to the idea of a stranger roaming about as we slept.

Now, remember, this is just the next morning; it was broad daylight. I put the family in the car, took my pistol out of the safe, and gathered my courage under the attic door. With shaking hands, I pulled the rope and watched the small, black abyss open wider and wider. The rickety stairs fell to the floor with the same, hard thud as before, and my stomach dropped to a new low.

Carefully ascending the unsteady ladder, I listened for any noise to indicate another presence. My knees threatened to buckle with each step, but there are no words for the moment you actually see a nightmare brought to life. Thankfully, there isn’t much clutter up there – it was easy to take in the full room with a few turns.

I called the police, and they stayed on the phone as I made my way back to the garage. They didn’t hang up until we were safely parked at the end of our long driveway, waiting for their arrival.

Twenty minutes later, two cruisers joined us; the first stayed with my family, and I rode with the second. After a full search, I escorted police to the… nest… and explained, “Yes, the attic is for decorations and we removed the Christmas ornaments weeks ago.”

I did my best to stay calm; I know they were only doing their job, but I think I’d remember seeing blankets and pillows laid in the middle of our family albums! For the love of— sorry, I know, I’ve kept you too long and I’m getting riled up again… but there’s no way one of the boys pulled all that shit out! No one has touched those damn photos since 2011 when we went digital!

The cops think someone squatted here for a few days before moving on, but I don’t think I’ll ever sleep again. How many nights was some deranged person sharing our house?!

So yea, that’s why there was no video yesterday. I cleaned the attic and stored the Christmas decorations while Amber went to town for cameras and a padlock. We now have motion activated surveillance and a secure attic door that won’t open again until October!

Oh, but one last thing before we go, I want to let you know we appreciate how Eddie stepped up to protect the boys; even after we got in the car he stayed right between them. Needless to say he received a handsome dinner and buried his new bones proudly. I’m not joking, he absolutely has new swagger in his step, he knows he did good boy!

Alright, till next time, Crawlers!

December 29, 2020

Sup, Night Crawlers? What did you think? Was it worth the wait? I was hoping Page would be here to see the special dedication for the footage, but she’s probably at work or something.

Hey Page, when you watch this, thanks again for the amazing drone! I promise you guys are going to see a lot of use from it. Oh! And her story was great! I hope I have time to do it in the future, but I’ve got something special planned for the next two weeks. Stay tuned for a special teaser after the stream!

Haha, oh no, Lady; please don’t say our house looks like Amityville! We’ve had enough real life horror to last a lifetime, thank you very much.

That’s right Disco, you tell her; we’re too old for that shit!

No, seriously guys, please, never send me ‘hobo in attic’ stories ever again, okay?

Exactly, Livers, that’s our fucking creed now. Hell-no, fuck-ho-bo’s!

Haha, this is why you guys are the best! Anyway, see… err, hear you… eh, screw it. Later!

January 3, 2021

Okay, I’m sorry, but I’m skipping the pleasantries tonight; I’m seriously freaking out here. The last few days have been straight from a cliche horror movie. I start going to the office tomorrow, so if I don’t get this out now, who knows when my next chance will be. I don’t even believe this shit anymore; tell me what you make of it.

I also need to add a disclaimer up front… I know this is a horror channel, but tonight we aren’t talking about some fictional story for a fun scare… this is real; my friend is dead.

The only reason I’m sharing it is because I truly feel like we’ve all come to be close friends, and I could honestly use the extra support. That being said, I understand if you don’t want to stay for this.

Thanks, Crawlers… and since we still haven’t seen Page, I’m adding another thank you for the drone as it is now part of our security force. When I feel extra paranoid, I fly it over the forest to reassure myself our house guest didn’t take up residence next door.

Do you remember my nightly routine of checking on the kids and locks? Well, you can add obsessively viewing the monitors to that list; a caveman-like instinct has gone into overdrive, and my family’s protection consumes every waking hour.

We have six cameras outside and four inside… the package came with ten, and someone wouldn’t let me buy an extra for the attic. Technically, with the padlock, I could see her point, but… opinions may yet be swayed.

Thursday, as always, I was last to bed and first to rise… well second if you count a certain hyper-active pup. I scanned through the previous night’s footage from my tablet while making coffee, and felt almost satisfied with the results. After Amber woke, I took Eddie to check the mail as an excuse to poke around outside.

The cigarette butts were long gone, and thus far no more have appeared – but I did find a manila envelope in the mailbox. There was no postage – meaning someone delivered it in person. I mean, maybe if we were in a neighborhood… but driving all this way…

And do you know what it was?! A scary story! [scoff] I assuredly shit you not; there are no shits here! To be more specific – it’s about a psychopath who becomes obsessed with a YouTube narrator and crosses the country to kill his family!

At least that’s what the cover said. I couldn’t read past the second page; it was disgusting. Someone tried to scare me with over-the-top details involving way too many entrails, but I threw that crap away.

I’m fairly certain the actual hobo didn’t go through the trouble; I only mention it to show you guys the extent of crazy we’re dealing with. We think the story was a poor attempt at humor by one of our less-than-supportive friends. A few days ago, we attended a dinner party, and Amber accidentally mentioned my little hobby while discussing the attic incident… 

Yea, it’s too coincidental. 

Don’t worry, we’re completely safe to talk; the channel wasn’t mentioned and they won’t find anything by searching my real name.

No kidding, Lady! There were so many times it felt like I was being over cautious, but now I’m grateful! Not to mention this has become my Safe Place; I’d lose my mind worrying about lurkers in every stream.

I still want to know who did it so I can express my gratitude… but they haven’t returned. When the kids were finished with breakfast, we had a family outing; it gave me a chance to stop for a game cam. If we receive another present, I’ll have a picture to go with it!

Other than that, we had a nice day, and I performed my nightly checks without issue. This time it was 2:26 – so technically Friday, but whatever – when I woke to the heavy weight of Eddie’s paws crushing my boys… you know, my special boys… as he leapt from bed, barking furiously.

It’s amazing how excruciating pain and fear gets the blood flowing. I shot out of bed like… well… like a fully grown pit bull used my sac for a launchpad. The only moment spared was to retrieve the gun, but seconds felt like minutes as I listened for any change in Eddie’s low, warning growls.

Feeling braver with the weapon, I joined our furry protector outside the closed office. Two curious boys watched from their doors, but smartly retreated at my Serious Dad Voice. So many thoughts raced through my mind as I steeled myself for entry – chief among them, “How did they get this far before alerting Ed?”

With a final glance back, I took a deep breath and burst through the door. Unsatisfied with my quick scans of the dark room, I managed to toggle the light switch with my shoulder. My eyes tried to squeeze shut against the blinding brightness, but I held them open via sheer desperation.

Eddie sniffed in loud huffs as he investigated and eventually came to lie under the window. His demeanor indicated a loss of trail, but I was too distracted by a shiny, metallic object to care. In the center of the floor, under the attic access, lay the opened padlock.

I was consumed by a rage so black, all fear evaporated in its wake. I pulled the door open in one, overpowered yank, and leapt aside to avoid the falling steps. Eddie’s unimpressed yawn barely registered as I tried to climb the steep stairs – gun held high.

It was empty and undisturbed; if someone went up there, you wouldn’t know by the looks of it. I still walked around before feeling satisfied enough to leave, but there was nowhere to hide; I made sure of that when reorganizing.

Ed was still lying near the far wall and didn’t come when called. I walked over to talk playful smack, but my eyes habitually sought out the window’s lock. As usual, it was safely flicked closed; I’m not sure what made me put it to the test, but I pushed gently on the glass. My stomach rolled as the window raised, smoothly and quietly.

The lock was broken on the end, so while it appeared secure – it was actually a psycho’s private entrance. There was no camera pointed at it… maybe if we bought that extra one… but there isn’t much on that side of the house. I considered entry there impossible… yet considering the evidence…

Still, it had to be someone fairly light-weight; there’s no trees close enough to use, just flimsy latticework – which is now gone. We called the police, who, again – were useless. Technically, I had no proof of a crime, only a suspicion of trespassing; nothing was missing, and the padlock was opened, not broken. All I know on that front is – they didn’t use keys. It came with two, and both remain locked inside the gun safe.

I was losing my mind, I knew someone was messing with us! I called our old neighbors… our kids are close in age and we became good friends with the Porter’s. I told Rick and Maggie everything, and they immediately wanted to help. We convinced the boys to have a sleepover with their old friends while Rick stayed with us.

I also wanted Amber to stay at the Porter’s, but she refused. Rick was a big game hunter, and I think it made her nervous to see how much fire power he brought to the show. I expected him to sleep on the couch, but he insisted on staying awake in his camper truck; he wanted to surprise any would-be intruders.

It felt like we were being cautious. In addition to removing the lattice, we added a camera and spotlights; we sat together for an hour before I went to bed, leaving my tablet so he could watch the monitors. I was nervous at first, but the sight of a two-hundred-fifty pound man loading a shotgun has a way of soothing the soul… you know, when he’s on your side.

Fifty times, I told him, “don’t walk out of the lights; stay where the camera can see you!” He didn’t call or text, he just ran out there alone! Shit, I didn’t even want him to leave his truck! We should have called the police and kept our distance; I knew we were dealing with a madman!

On the security footage, at 1:49, you see Rick proceed to the back of the house, shotgun in hand. After police enhanced the audio, we could hear the soft rustling that drew his attention.

I woke to Eddie losing his shit and turning circles all over the bed. Already dressed, I ran to the monitors to see my friend sneaking into the tree-line. I hurried downstairs, ignoring Amber’s questions, yelling to call the police. Tragedy loomed thick in the air, leaving a foul taste in my mouth.

I locked my wife and dog inside and headed toward the forest. Every leaf crunch broke the silence like a neon sign revealing my position, and each heartbeat throbbed painfully as I searched for Rick in the dark, quiet woods. Finally, the sound of a single gunshot rang out, and despite the overwhelming instinct to run away, I charged forward.

I found my friend on the cold, hard ground, choking on his blood as he struggled for each breath. He couldn’t say much, and what he did say were last words for his family and therefore private. 

As I sat crying and cradling his corpse, I jumped at every noise, expecting one, final shot to take me. I can still feel his sticky blood between my fingers and matted body hair. When you watch a movie, you never think about how uncomfortable those little things are…  

Detectives finally took our previous claims seriously now that they had a murder, and they requested we make “enemy lists” – even the boys; I doubt anything comes from it. 

They stuck around for a few days to keep me quiet, but we’ve been on our own ever since. We try to wear a good face for the boys, but we aren’t sleeping much. I’m not sure when I’ll be able to post again, but I’ll do my best to keep you updated.

January 11, 2022

So, is everybody still with me? Obviously, I failed miserably with the updates, but I’m sure all doubts as to why have been erased. Clearly, the psycho was not on the run… funny enough, it wasn’t even a “he”, but I’m getting ahead of myself.

Six weeks after that stream, I felt ready to record again, but first, I needed a few things from Walmart. Thankfully, Amber and the boys stayed home since it was supposed to be a quick trip.

I was in line to checkout when a small, thin woman with dark hair approached – claiming I looked familiar. I tried politely explaining she was mistaken, but my words didn’t get through; I’m fairly certain she was high as fuck. The chick kept talking about my handsome bone structure! It got to the point I told her, “Look, I’m flattered you’re so keen with me, but I’m old and married; can’t you find some jerky yet mysterious emo kid or something? I bet you could fix him.”

Fuck, if looks could kill… just like that, the flirty-girl act disappeared and we entered Gone Girl territory! Her eyes darted around like they were vibrating, and her fists clenched and unclenched in spastic motions. I thought she was going to hit me, but after a solid five minutes of silent, death glares, she walked away!

I was shaken up because my first attempt at a normal task resulted in yet another unreal situation – but never did I suspect that tiny girl was a murderer! Although, now, I understand how she managed to beat Rick in a gunfight. We expected a deranged madman… the sight of a young woman undoubtedly caused the hesitation which cost his life… but I’m jumping ahead again, sorry.

My excitement for recording faded, and I decided to postpone; I didn’t want my first video back to reflect the hot, chaotic mess of my nerves. That weekend, I thought it would be a good idea to relax by taking the boys for a sort of “man-day” – just normal bonding stuff – playing ball, maybe pop a tent in the yard, nothing stressful…

We never saw her coming… we were spread out, throwing a stupid ball around because I wanted the boys to have real childhood memories… not just Wii Sports… but I instantly recognized her; I knew it was the bitch from Walmart! Granted, I didn’t know who yet, but obviously, two random, crazy people didn’t coincidentally find my house.

She came out of the forest like a ghost; even before she raised the gun, I became painfully aware of my position between the boys. They were spread far apart, with me in the center. My body acted both in unison and independently from my brain.

No matter how desperately I wanted to protect both – a brutal logic forced my legs into action, and without consent, rushed forward; my youngest was already running to meet me. In the very same instant I found myself securely between the Bitch and Conner, I turned to see the gun holding Aiden in place. I’ve never understood the “ice in my veins” term could be so frighteningly literal. My phone and holster were lying on a blanket fifteen feet away; we were completely defenseless.

I screamed… hard enough for my voice to break… begging this bitch to point the gun at me… but she wouldn’t listen. Fuck, she just wouldn’t listen! I know I don’t talk about religion much, but a frightened parent can believe almost anything. I begged every deity from God to Odin to save my boys; myself be damned, I didn’t care.

I know online horror stories aren’t an All Purpose Guide to Life, but it was hard not to think about a few basic lessons learned over the years; I hoped humoring her fantasy might allow me to get closer.

I asked her name, but she only tightened her grip on the gun. The sight of the barrel pointed at Aiden was traumatizing enough, but fresh vomit rose as her hand trembled – finger still on the trigger. I was one sneeze away from watching my first born die.

With both hands raised – palms out – I took a few cautious steps until she refocused her attention. It’s impossible to accurately describe how my heart pulsated uncomfortably in the back of my throat, choking off every word, but that’s exactly how it felt…

I didn’t understand until she finally spoke… apparently, she could almost let it go when I didn’t read her story… but then she got me the drone… a present which – as it turns out – was much more expensive than anything else I received. 

But when I still didn’t read it… that confirmed I was just like the others… 

All the moments before now, every word I said, every decision I made… they all led to thatverymoment. The culmination of a million minute details equaled Conner, Aiden, and I  standing in a field – held at gun point – by Page fucking Turner. All because I didn’t read her terrible story!

How could I know she actually knew me? I’ve never shown my face here; there’s only sixty of us on the best days… and more than a few of you are in Canada! What were the odds of someone being in my city?!

There’s narrators who have millions of listeners! Why couldn’t she go crazy on one of them?! Why me?! There had to be dozens better suited to her tastes!

I felt like I had no choice but to respond, “You’re absolutely right; I’m scum, but please don’t make them pay for my mistakes – shoot me! I was going to read your story after Cthulhu, but you’re right! I should have narrated yours first! Look, we can go inside right now, and I can record it with a special dedication explaining how sorry I am.” My voice was so desperate I didn’t think she would buy it, but she kinda did.

Her attention was solely on me… she didn’t fully believe my words, but she was considering them seriously enough to forget about Aiden. It filled me with pride to see my boy use the opportunity to quietly retreat toward the tree-line. I too stole the chance to win a few more steps; all I had to do was get in reaching distance and I had her.

Every overprotective Dad instinct told me to rush her, take her down and don’t let up until she’s dead, but I couldn’t trust the distance remaining. Instead, I asked if she thought she could make a series out of the story – something we could premiere weekly – and won several feet more as she laughed maniacally.

That hysterical, evil laugh was the most disturbing sound I’ve ever heard. I now know she was in her thirties, but she was so tiny… I honestly assumed she was early twenties. It’s a strange thing to see so much evil in such a small package; maybe she was possessed…

As soon as she was close enough, I dropped all pretense and focused every ounce of my being into placing my body in front of that barrel. I didn’t care about the stray shot that pierced my shoulder, only that I had time to take her down before I passed out. Even with adrenaline flooding my system, the blinding inferno of agony was almost too much. I reminded myself of the agony it would be to bury a son, and pushed past the numbing sensation coursing through my body. 

With sheer willpower I kept hold of the gun, fighting to turn it back on her. Finally, a loud bang rang through the forest, and for a terrifying moment, I was completely unaware who the bullet struck. I looked at the boys, breathing a heavy sigh of relief to see both on their feet. They were coming towards us, but I screamed for them to run home, knowing Amber could handle the rest. Only when they were safely away did I investigate my own condition or that of Page’s.

I pried the gun from her limp hand, and crawled away when I saw the horrific wound in her midsection. Her blood spread into a huge puddle, and she was so pale I thought she was already dead… even if she weren’t, there’s no way she should have been able to run off! I wanted to be with my family damnit; it’s not my fault she was gone when police arrived.

There was a manhunt over the following weeks, but her body was never found. They think wild animals finished her off, and I’m sure that’s what happened, because she was on death’s door. Had I not seen it for myself, things would probably feel different, but here we are almost a year later and we’ve never seen the bitch again.

I know we’ve been here a long time, but if you’ll indulge me a moment longer, I’d like to share the final police report. It didn’t take long to finish the investigation once they knew who they were dealing with.

Page’s real name was – get this – Paige fucking Turner. Her parents, Phoebe and Colton Turner, thought it sounded cute, but she was deluded into thinking it gave her writing skills! Oh, and they’re from California; she traveled all the way to Michigan just for me.

I’m glad she’s dead and hope she rots wherever she is now! We’ve tried to check on Maggie and the children, but as you can imagine, they’re not eager to speak with us. I would have known it was Page before we lost Rick had my lazy ass actually read her story. If I recognized it when she left it in the mailbox, the police might have responded differently for someone obsessed enough to cross the country.

I can’t believe how far she went just because I didn’t want to narrate a lame story! At first, I was too busy to read it, but after she gave me the drone, I felt kinda obligated. I was determined, if it was even slightly decent – it was happening.

Guys, it fucking sucked. It made zero damn sense! The first few paragraphs tried to describe a woman who was being stalked, but when I didn’t use it – she changed the main character to me and added the names of my family; otherwise, it was exactly the same. Had I paid the least bit of attention, I would have seen it; the police found it quick enough, anyway.

My biggest hang up was how she found me. I watched every video, listening for any hints regarding our address, and the only clue I revealed was our Michigan PO Box which is an hour away. I don’t care how long someone scoured Google Maps with the drone footage – it would take one hella lucky break to find us that way. You guys saw it! Nothing but trees and our house; there’s not a highway, road sign, or car tag in sight! As it turns out, the Bitch was savvy enough to install some kind of GPS tracker into the drone itself; I led her right to us.

Please let my mistake be a lesson – you never truly know who’s behind a username. Hell, you know what the biggest mind-fuck of all was? The title of the story, Coming Soon.

Part 2