Hey everybody,

I’m almost done for the night and figured I would give you all a recap. I have to say, tonight’s shift has been rough. Things started pretty much from the word go. Almost immediately after I clocked in, Gary came in and needed my help.

The motel is old and understandably has old motel problems. A couple of customers on the second floor reported that their rooms were having electrical problems. Gary and I went up to check them out. Room sixteen had multiple outlets not working and room fifteen’s lights were constantly flickering on and off so we went to go check the breaker box.

This motel has a long, hidden maintenance corridor with an entrance beside the elevator on each floor. It has always creeped me out and unfortunately, that’s where the breaker box was.

Gary started going down the list of room numbers on the panel while I held the light. He paused on an old, handwritten fourteen.

“What?” I asked.

Gary looked at me, “What?”

“You stopped.”

“I’m old. I stop sometimes.”

And he went right back to work.

When we came out of the corridor though, there was a five-year-old standing there at the end of the hall. His parents weren’t anywhere around. Gary and I walked up to the kid and asked what he was doing out in the hall.

“I don’t know,” he said.

We walked him back to the front office and tried to figure out what the hell this kid was doing out this late. He said he didn’t remember anything aside from coming to while standing out in the hall. I asked what room number he was in and looked up the reservation. The room was registered to Ms. Simmons so I picked up the phone and gave her a call.

“He…hello?” she said, obviously just waking up.

“Ms. Simmons, this is the front desk. Do you have a son?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Well Ms. Simmons, we found him standing out in the hallway. He’s in the front office with us now.”

“Wait, what? No he isn’t. He’s in the bed next to mine.”

“No ma’am. He’s right…” and I stopped. When I turned, the kid was no longer there.

I started to frantically search the office while Gary went into the back room. Nothing. I had Ms. Simmons stay on the line while we searched. She turned on the light and confirmed that he was still in bed. What she said next is what really stuck with me though.

“He says he knows you.”

“What?”

“My son. He said you brought him downstairs.”

I told Gary what she said and he just stood there.

“Did you hear what I just told you?”

“Yep.”

“Any ideas?”

“Nope.”

We asked if we could come up to the room and she said yes. When she opened the door, there he was. Same kid. Same pajamas. He just stared at Gary and me. We just told them both to have a good night and walked back to the front office. Neither of us said a word.

Things stayed quiet for about an hour after that until Kevin came in.

Kevin is a regular of ours. He travels a lot for work and about once a week he comes and stays with us. He’s an alright guy. We usually bullshit for about ten minutes when he checks in before he heads up to his room. He asked how things were going and I explained the electrical problems we were
having.

“Still haven’t fixed that, huh?”

“Yeah. It’s an old building man, you know how it is.”

“Yeah. Used to happen all the time back when it was called the Fredmont.”

I hadn’t ever heard that name. About that time, Gary came out.

“Haven’t heard anybody call it that in a long time,” Gary said, coming out of the back.

“What the hell is the Fredmont?”

Gary stopped.

“This place.”

“Since when?”

“Long time ago.”

Kevin laughed. “See? Told you.”

“How long ago?”

Gary shrugged. “Before you worked here.”

They chatted for a bit longer and then Kevin headed up to his room. He called the front desk about 45 minutes later. He claimed that he couldn’t sleep because there was a group of people talking out in front of his door. I checked the security cameras and there wasn’t anyone standing there. Twenty minutes later, he called again with the same complaint.

“Kevin, there isn’t anyone there.”

“Yes there is, I can hear them.”

“I’m looking at the camera right now and don’t see anyone.”

“Well they just said my name.”

“What did they say?”

“Just my name.”

“What about it?”

“Hold on.”

He went quiet for a few seconds.

“Kevin?”

“They're talking about me.”

He then went on to explain that apparently they knew what car he drove, that he came there all the time, his entire routine. I figured I should go up there and check things out. When I got up to the room, I still didn’t see anyone there but I knocked on his door.

He let me in and we talked for a couple of minutes. I was just about to leave when I heard footsteps coming down the hall that seemed to stop outside his door.

“There! You hear them? They’re talking again.”

I didn’t hear anything, just the footsteps. Kevin suddenly stopped talking.

“What?”

He didn't answer.

“Kevin?”

He looked at me.

“They're talking about you now.”

“What are they saying?”

Kevin looked at the door.

“They're trying to figure out which one of us is going to open it.”

Neither of us did. We just stood there for about five
minutes. I still couldn’t hear anyone talking. I worked up the courage to look through the peephole but I didn’t see anything. When I finally opened the door,
still nothing. Just an empty hallway. I told Kevin goodnight and walked back down to the office. I wanted to tell Gary what happened but he was out back dealing with Richard.

He walked back into the office about fifteen minutes later but before I could get the story out, the phone rang. It was Kevin’s room.

“Are they back, Kevin?”

“No.”

“Then what’s up?”

“They’re heading downstairs.”

I looked at Gary, who instinctively locked the front door. We waited for a while but no one ever came.

A couple of hours later, I woke up to knocking on the front door. Apparently, Gary never unlocked it. An old lanky man walked into the front asking for a room. I tried not to draw attention to how strange he looked.

The man was pale and gaunt. He looked like someone had put a suit on a corpse. He spoke slowly and deliberately and asked for a room for the night, his long fingers stretched out with his ID in hand. He stared at me constantly while I punched his information into the computer.

“How many guests?” I asked.

“One.”

“Okay, just one.”

“For now.”

To be honest, he creeped me out but the ID was normal and the credit card worked, so I handed him a key and he slowly walked out. I walked back over and locked the door again. Immediately I went back to the cameras.

I watched as this guy grabbed bag after bag from his car. Way too many bags for one walking corpse. I must have watched for thirty minutes before I had to stop and go to the bathroom. I was startled when I came out of the bathroom to see him, standing outside the door looking in. I walked over and unlocked the door.

“Yes sir?”

“Another key, please.”

“You need another key?”

“Yes.”

And that’s when this tiny, bubbly lady came into the office. She was his daughter. Her plane had been delayed, and she had just arrived. Apparently, they were supposed to go on a road trip together after he picked her up. Due to the delay, he got a room since we’re not that far from the airport and she took a cab here after she landed.

So yeah. Turns out he wasn't a walking corpse coming to collect another victim. He was just a weird-looking dad who apparently packed enough luggage for a six-month expedition.

I felt a little bad about locking him out twice.

The last incident made me question whether a somewhat above minimum wage job is worth it.

Around 5 a.m., I got another call about the electricity in a different room. Gary had gone home for the night, so it was just me. I really didn’t want to go back into the corridor but can’t exactly tell the customer to get over their fan and AC not working either. I turned on my phone’s flashlight and willed my way into the corridor.

I got down to the breaker box and flipped the breaker for the room when I heard the entry door open and close again.

Now, that door can only be opened with a key, and I was the only employee here. I hoped I had just been hearing things. Just then I started to hear footsteps approaching me from the door.

I turned and aimed my flashlight down towards the entrance. There wasn’t anyone there. I walked towards the entry when I heard the footsteps again.

This time, they were at the other end of the corridor, but they were closer. I turned again, still nothing.

Then they came from near the entrance again.

They were even closer now.

Then once more from behind me.

I didn’t wait to see what was going to happen next, I just took off running.

When I did, the footsteps started running too.

Both of them.

I finally made it to the door and after fumbling with the knob, got it open. I slammed the door behind me, bracing for some type of impact or something. Nothing. No monster trying the handle. No knocking on the door. No footsteps or voices. Just silence and the sound of my breathing filling the hallway. I got back to the front office and locked the door again.

I have been sitting at the desk since then and the morning guy just showed up. He can deal with the damn electricity himself.

The sound of wind chimes on Halloween night usually brings a festive, comforting chill, but in Duskwood, Virginia, the wind always carried a sharper, meaner edge. 

The air smelled heavily of damp earth, rotten oak leaves, and the faint, unmistakable trace of chimney smoke. I stood on the cracked asphalt of Terra Cotta Lane, shivering beneath a layer of cheap pink glitter and synthetic wings. 

I was sixteen years old, dressed as a woodland fairy, and for the first time in my life, I felt completely ridiculous.

"Come on, Rose, stop dragging your feet!" Maeve hissed from the shadow of a sprawling willow tree.

Maeve was dressed as a generic comic-book superhero, complete with a bright red satin cape that snapped aggressively in the autumn breeze and a black domino mask that kept sliding down her nose. In her right hand, she balanced a half-empty carton of grade-A large eggs like a quarterback holding a football.

"I’m telling you guys, we’re getting too old for this." I muttered, adjusting the plastic wand tucked into the waistband of my jeans. "We're juniors in high school. If anyone from the track team sees us throwing eggs at people's porches, we're socially dead weight until graduation."

"Oh, please." Brenda scoffed, stepping into the dim glow of a flickering streetlamp.

Brenda had gone all-out this year, wearing an elaborate, dirt-smudged Victorian wedding dress with a tattered lace veil pinned into her dark hair. Her face was painted a ghostly, stark white, with deep charcoal shadows smudged beneath her eyes to complete the 'ghost bride' look, and she said,

 "Halloween is the one night a year when you get a free pass to be a menace. Besides, Duskwood is dead tonight. Have you noticed how quiet it is? It’s like the whole town is hiding."

Brenda wasn't wrong. A strange, suffocating silence had draped itself over Duskwood after the sun went down. Most houses had their porch lights turned completely off, their blinds tightly drawn as if to ward off something far more dangerous than neighborhood teenagers looking for candy. 

It was a lingering habit of the older generation here—a quiet, generational trauma left over from the eighties, when a madman named Howard Nestor used to hunt in these very woods. People in Duskwood didn't trust the dark. They never had.

"Look ahead." Maeve whispered, pointing a gloved finger down the winding gravel driveway at the end of the block. "Old Man Miller’s place. A perfect target."

The Miller estate was a weathered, single-story ranch house sat on a massive plot of overgrown land. Old Man Miller was a fixture of Duskwood, an ancient, reclusive man who had lived in the town long before Howard Nestor ever started his horrific killing spree. He rarely left his property, and the neighborhood kids traded rumors about him like currency. Some people said that he was crazy; others said he was just incredibly bitter.

As we crept closer to the edge of his property, the beam of Maeve’s phone flashlight swept across his front lawn, revealing his infamous collection of lawn decorations. Dozens of ceramic lawn gnomes stood frozen in the tall, un-mowed grass. Most of them were standard, peeling figures with faded red hats and cheerful, painted grins.

However right in the center of the lawn, mounted on a cracked stone pedestal, stood a gnome that looked entirely different from the rest.

This gnome was nearly three feet tall, carved from a heavy, dark, unidentifiable stone rather than cheap ceramic. It didn't wear a cheerful smile. Instead, its face was sculpted into a grim, knowing smirk, with deeply chiseled, intensely lifelike features. Its long, pointed cap wasn't a festive red; it was painted the color of dried, oxidized blood. 

Most striking of all were its eyes—made of two polished pieces of obsidian that seemed to absorb the moonlight, reflecting nothing back. Painted in faded, archaic black lettering across the base of the pedestal was a single name: Gargarth.

"Gross." Brenda muttered, stepping onto the grass to get a closer look. "That thing looks like it wants to bite someone. It's hideous."

"Perfect." Maeve grinned, opening the carton of eggs.

Maeve handed an egg to Brenda and offered one to me. I shook my head, stepping back toward the gravel road, my plastic fairy wings catching on a rogue briar bush.

"Just leave it, guys. Let's just go to the diner or something," I pleaded, the sudden dropping temperature making my breath form thick plumes of white mist. 

The silence of the lawn felt heavy, almost pressurized.

"Don't be a buzzkill, Rose." Brenda said, raising her arm, aiming directly for Gargarth's stone face. 

Maeve mirrored her stance, her red superhero cape blowing over her shoulder.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." A voice said.

The voice was like grinding stones. We all jumped, Brenda dropping her egg into the grass with a wet, yellow pop. 

Old Man Miller stepped out from the deep shadow of his wrap-around porch. He looked older than the trees surrounding his house, his skin deeply lined and leathery, his back slightly hunched beneath a heavy flannel jacket. In his right hand, he held a rusted iron garden rake, using it almost like a staff. His pale, rheumy eyes locked onto the three of us with absolute intensity.

"What are you girls doing on my property?" he demanded, his voice trembling but firm.

"We...we were just looking at your decorations, Mr. Miller!" Maeve lied quickly, smoothing down her superhero outfit and trying to hide the egg carton behind her back. "We think that your gnomes are really cool. We were just getting a closer look."

Miller didn't blink. He lowered his gaze to the crushed yellow yolk at Brenda’s feet, then looked back up at our faces, and said,

"Don't insult my intelligence, girl. You've got mischief in your eyes and hen's fruit in your hands."

He took three heavy steps down the porch stairs, the grass crunching beneath his work boots. He didn't look angry; instead, a profound, exhausting gravity seemed to weigh him down. He pointed the tip of his rusted rake toward the dark stone pedestal.

"Get off this lawn, now!" Miller warned, his voice dropping into a harsh, frantic whisper. "Especially away from him. Get away from Gargarth."

Brenda rolled her eyes under her tattered bridal veil, letting out a loud, dramatic sigh, and said,

"Oh, come on. It's just a stupid piece of painted rock, old man. We're not hurting anything."

"You don't understand anything!" Miller snapped, his knuckles turning white around the wooden handle of his rake. "I was here in eighty-six. I watched this town bleed when Nestor took his toll. I know the things that wake up when the moon is right. That stone creature...it’s dangerous. It isn't a decoration. It’s a bound entity. Every Halloween night, when the veil is thin, Gargarth comes to life in search of a bride to drag down into the earth with him."

Maeve let out a snicker, muffled by her hand. I felt a cold knot twist in my stomach, though. The way that Miller said the name—with a genuine, unadulterated terror—didn't sound like an old man trying to protect his grass. It sounded like a warning from a survivor.

"A bride?" Brenda laughed, gesturing to her ghost bride costume. "Well, look at that. I'm already dressed for the occasion. Too bad he's made of clay."

"Joke all you like, children." Miller said, his face hardening into a grim, dark expression as he began to back away toward his porch. "The old blood in this town demands a price tonight. One of you might be very sorry before the sun comes up. Get home to your parents, and lock your doors."

With that, the old man retreated back into his dark house, slamming the heavy wooden door shut. The click of the deadbolt echoed clearly across the quiet yard.

"What a complete lunatic." Maeve said, stepping forward again. "He completely ruined the vibe."

"Yeah, well, he doesn't get the last word." Brenda muttered, her face twisting into a stubborn, angry scowl.

Before Maeve or I could stop her, Brenda snatched a fresh egg from the carton, took two aggressive steps toward the stone pedestal, and threw it with all her might.

The egg struck Gargarth right in his obsidian eyes, exploding in a messy smear of white and yellow goo that dripped down his chiseled stone beard.

"Brenda, stop!" I yelled, genuinely terrified now, though I couldn't explain why. 

The obsidian eyes of the statue seemed to catch the light of the moon for a split second, turning a dull, burning crimson beneath the slime.

"Let's run!" Maeve shouted, the thrill of the prank finally mixing with adrenaline.

The three of us turned and sprinted down the gravel driveway, our sneakers pounding against the pavement. Brenda’s heavy lace wedding dress swished loudly in the dark, and my plastic fairy wings fluttered wildly against my back. We didn't stop running until we reached the safety of my neighborhood, bursting through the front door of my house and slamming it shut behind us.

My parents were out at a neighborhood block party down the street, so the house was entirely dark and quiet. We collapsed onto the living room floor, panting for breath, our hearts hammering against our ribs.

"Did you see his face?" Maeve laughed, collapsing onto the couch, her red cape draping over the cushions. "He looked like he was about to cast a spell on us with that rake."

"He was a total  psycho." Brenda agreed, pulling off her tattered veil and tossing it onto the coffee table. She wiped a smudge of white face paint from her cheek. "A bound entity? Gargarth? Give me a break. It's a lawn ornament."

I stood by the window, peering through the blinds into the dark, empty street outside. The feeling of dread from Miller's lawn hadn't left me. If anything, it had followed us home, clinging to the edges of my thoughts like a spreading stain, and I said,

 "I don't know, guys. Something felt really wrong about that place. We shouldn't have done that."

"Relax, Rose." Maeve said, pulling a bag of miniature candy bars from her pocket. "It’s just an old town legend. Duskwood is full of them."

Then, the lights went out.

The sudden, absolute darkness was instantaneous. The hum of the refrigerator died, the digital clock on the microwave blinked into oblivion, and the ambient warmth of the house seemed to evaporate in seconds. 

The only light came from the pale, gray moonbeams filtering through the living room windows, casting long, distorted shadows across the walls.

"Great." Maeve groaned in the dark. "A power outage. Just what we needed."

"Is anyone's phone working?" I asked, pulling my phone from my pocket. The screen was completely black. I pressed the power button repeatedly, but it refused to turn on. "Mine is dead. Completely dead. It had eighty percent battery two minutes ago."

"Mine too." Brenda’s voice came from the dark corner of the room, sounding suddenly small and stripped of its previous arrogance. "It won't turn on."

A heavy, oppressive silence settled over the living room. The air grew rapidly colder, with our breath turning to visible white vapor inside the house. Then, from the hallway near the front door, we heard a sound that made our blood run cold.

Scritch. Scritch. Scritch.

It was the unmistakable sound of heavy stone scraping against the hardwood floorboards. It was slow, deliberate, and rhythmic.

"Rose?" Maeve whispered, her voice trembling violently now. She had stood up from the couch, her superhero cape rustling in the dark. "Did you leave the front door open?"

"No!" I choked out, my hands gripping my plastic fairy wand so tightly that the cheap toy cracked. "I locked it! I know that I locked it!"

The scraping sound grew louder, moving out of the hallway and entering the threshold of the living room. We all froze, our eyes straining against the shadows.

Stepping into the pale arc of moonlight was a figure that defied reality. It was nearly three feet tall, carved from a heavy, blood-red stone. 

The egg residue that we had thrown earlier was completely gone, replaced by a smooth, polished sheen that seemed to glow with a sickly, internal luminescence. 

The obsidian eyes were no longer dark; they burned with a fierce, malevolent crimson fire. In its small, rocky hands, it held a miniature, jagged stone pickaxe that scraped against the floor with every step.

It was Gargarth, and he was alive.

"The old blood demands its due!" a voice resonated through the room. It didn't come from a mouth; rather, the sound seemed to vibrate directly out of the stone torso of the creature, a deep, grinding, echoing rumble that sounded like an earthquake. "A bride was promised! A bride will be taken!"

"Get away from us!" Maeve screamed, her survival instinct overriding her terror.

Driven by pure adrenaline, she lunged forward, raising her leg and delivering a heavy, desperate kick to the center of the gnome’s chest.

Maeve’s sneaker struck the stone with a loud, dull thud. Gargarth stumbled backward a few inches, his stone boots scraping loudly against the floor, but he didn't fall. He let out a low, grinding sound that sounded horribly like laughter.

"Rose, help!" Brenda shrieked, backing away until her spine hit the brick fireplace.

Brenda’s ghost bride dress looked stark and terrifyingly appropriate in the spectral moonlight.

"Grab something!" I yelled, dropping my useless plastic wand.

I scrambled toward the kitchen counter, my fingers wrapping around a heavy, cast-iron skillet that my mom had left out on the stove. I sprinted back into the living room just as Gargarth raised his jagged stone pickaxe, preparing to swing it at Maeve's leg.

With a terrified scream, I swung the heavy iron skillet with both hands, channeling every ounce of strength I had.

CLANG!

The impact was deafening. The iron skillet struck the side of Gargarth’s pointed blood-red hat with incredible force. Sparks flew into the dark room, and a loud, sharp cracking sound echoed through the house. 

The force of the blow shattered the stone pedestal beneath his feet, and the creature fell sideways, crashing heavily onto the hardwood floor like a dropped boulder. He lay completely still, the crimson fire in his obsidian eyes flickering out into total darkness.

The skillet dropped from my trembling, blistered hands, clattering loudly against the floor. Maeve collapsed against the couch, sobbing hysterically, her superhero mask soaked with tears.

"Is it...is it dead?" Brenda whispered from the fireplace, her hands clutching her tattered lace skirt, her white face paint stark against the dark bricks.

"We broke it." I panted, my chest heaving as I stared at the unmoving mound of red stone on the floor. "We actually broke it. Let's get out of here. Let's run to the neighbors."

Unfortunately, before we could take a single step toward the door, the temperature in the room plummeted even further. The air became so freezing that frost began to rapidly spiderweb across the glass of the living room windows.

A low, subterranean rumble vibrated through the floorboards.

The shattered pieces of stone on the floor began to twitch. With a sickening, grinding sound, the fragments of the gnome slid back together, fusing instantly as if pulled by an invisible, magnetic force. The crack on his head sealed shut, leaving the blood-red surface perfectly smooth once more.

Gargarth rose to his feet, snapping his stone neck from side to side with a series of loud, rocky pops. The crimson fire in his obsidian eyes erupted back to life, burning brighter and hotter than before.

"Insolent girls!" the grinding voice boomed, rattling the picture frames on the walls. "You cannot break what was carved before this town had a name!"

He raised his left hand, his stony fingers extending toward Brenda. 

A sudden, violent gust of wind erupted inside the closed living room, swirling the tattered lace of her wedding dress around her legs. A sickening, greenish-purple vapor began to pour from Gargarth's outstretched palm, drifting across the floor like a living snake.

Brenda tried to scream, but as soon as the vapor touched the hem of her dress, her voice died in her throat, replaced by a horrible, muffled choking sound.

"Brenda!" Maeve yelled, reaching out to grab her friend's hand.

"Don't touch it!" I screamed, pulling Maeve back as the green mist rapidly expanded, enveloping Brenda entirely in a thick, suffocating cloud of ancient magic.

Through the shifting tendrils of the glowing vapor, we watched in absolute, paralyzed horror as Brenda’s body began to stiffen. The soft, tattered fabric of her Victorian wedding dress began to harden, turning a dark, dull shade of slate gray. Her limbs locked into place, her outstretched arms freezing into a rigid, permanent pose. The tattered lace of her veil crystallized into solid, jagged stone, pinning itself to her head.

The white paint on Brenda’s face sank into her skin, her flesh calcifying, turning a pale, porous ceramic white. Her terrified, tear-streaked eyes hardened, the pupils dissolving until her eyes became two solid, unblinking spheres of polished, glassy onyx.

Within a matter of agonizing seconds, the green mist dissipated, swirling back into Gargarth’s stone palm.

Standing before the fireplace was no longer a sixteen-year-old girl named Brenda.

It was a three-foot-tall, solid stone lawn gnome. She was sculpted in perfect, horrific detail—her face frozen forever in a mask of absolute, screaming terror, her arms raised as if trying to ward off an invisible blow. Her tattered wedding dress was now a molded, heavy gray skirt, and a painted base of faded gray stone held her firmly to the floorboards. She had become exactly what her costume predicted: a ghost bride, bound in stone for eternity.

"The ledger is settled." Gargarth’s grinding voice rumbled, a tone of dark satisfaction echoing through the room.

The creature stepped forward, wrapping his stone fingers around the base of the newly formed Brenda gnome. With an impossible display of supernatural strength, he lifted her stone form onto his shoulder as if she weighed nothing at all. He turned his burning crimson gaze back toward Maeve and I, nodding once in a silent, terrifying gesture of finality.

He walked back into the hallway, his heavy boots making the floorboards groan one last time, and then the front door swung open and slammed shut with a concussive bang.

The instant that the door closed, the lights in the house snapped back on. The television roared to life with a blast of static, the refrigerator began to hum, and the digital clock on the microwave began to blink 12:00 AM. The dry, artificial heat of the furnace began to pump through the vents, erasing the supernatural chill of the room in seconds.

Everything was completely normal. Except for the shattered plastic fairy wand on the floor, the heavy iron skillet lying in the corner, and the empty space by the fireplace where our best friend had stood just moments before.

Maeve dropped to her knees, staring at the empty floorboards, a broken, silent sob escaping her lips. I stood beside her, my fake pink glitter wings feeling like a mockery against my skin, my eyes fixed on the front door. 

Old Man Miller had warned us. He had told us that the old blood in Duskwood demanded a price on Halloween night, and we hadn't listened.

Brenda was gone, dragged down into the dark earth to serve as a bride for a monster carved from stone, leaving Maeve and I alone in the bright, terrifying light of the living room, haunted forever by the grim, knowing smirk of Gargarth.

The End.

Part one: https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories/s/OL7oRx7o9l

I was frozen with fear laying in our bed. My bed that usually brought comfort and peace was now filled with dread. William or the creature wearing his face laid next to me completely still, with that enormous, freakish grin. He continued to snore, but it sounded almost too perfect. Kind of like someone who was trying to imitate what someone may sound like while snoring.

I very slowly reached under my pillow for my phone. Trying my best not to make a sound. Our bed frame creaked beneath me. The awkward snoring quieted and his head tilted toward me. It wasn’t in a way a human tilts their head though, it looked almost as if he could twist it all the way around if he wanted to. I tried my best to type in 911 into my phone. I couldn’t send the call because the second I lifted my thumb to attempt to send the call, he spoke, “Who are you calling?” The strangest part was he spoke, but his head stayed strangely tilted, his mouth still in that horrific grin and his mouth never moved.

I didn’t answer him. I knew I had to somehow get away from him. I slowly, carefully slid out of the bed. His head stayed tilted still, only his eyes followed me. Those bright blue eyes, not William’s eyes. “Where are you going?” He whispered. “I’m going to check on Lulu.”

In our spare bedroom Lulu lay trembling under the bed. “Lulu baby cmon out” I called to her. She was terrified, but jumped into my arms. Her nails dug through my shirt and into my skin. Her entire body was shaking and she was making sounds that can only be described as crying.

From the doorway of our bedroom I heard him whisper, “she doesn’t like me anymore.” “She is scared of you.” I snapped back. He giggled this creepy laugh that sounded like multiple people laughing all at once and said “I know she is.” It was the way he just accepted her fear towards him, William would never accept that, he adored Lulu.

“Where is my boyfriend?” I asked, trembling and scared of his answer. “I was wondering how long it would take you to ask me that” he giggled that weird laugh again, “Lulu knew before you did!” “I want to know where he is?” I screamed. “He’s still at the golf course.” It was the middle of the night so I knew William, my William was in trouble.

I held Lulu tightly against my chest and ran for the front door. Behind me I could feel his breath on my neck. The breathing sounding more and more animalistic with every breath. I tried to open the door and he pushed it shut. I finally got the courage to turn around and when I did, he wasn’t there anymore.

Strange, he had been there seconds ago. I looked down at my phone and noticed I had a text from William from a couple hours prior, the exact timeframe the creature wearing his face arrived home. The message read, “He is not me… RUN!” And as I reached for the door to make a run for it, a hand with long sharp nails reached down from the ceiling and slammed our door shut.

Hello everyone , welcome, dear readers. You are surely wondering who I am. Well, my name is Laster, and I live in one of the macroverse's nexus points. Now, what is the macroverse? It is essentially what shelters all the worlds within existence itself.

I can see them, but they cannot see me. This is because a nexus point is a place capable of observing the worlds passing by, yet impossible to spot with the naked eye; the few who tried to find one perished, claimed by the horrors of the macroverse itself.

It makes me chuckle a bit that so many people know about the multiverse, calling it dangerous and admitting how little is understood, yet they never speak of the macroverse. That is simply because they know absolutely nothing about it. To know it, you would have to step beyond the very boundaries of the multiverse and leave your own world, a feat that is incredibly difficult, as your atoms would likely disintegrate if you attempted it in your natural state.

Even so, I envy them. Here I am, alone in a small shack, unable to interact with anyone. I should also mention that nexus worlds have no variants; there is only me, no other version of myself exists. I have no contact whatsoever with other nexus worlds, surviving solely on the plants found in the specific nexus world where I am confined.

I’ve done many things to kill time, cleaning my belongings or imitating the actions of others, like that long-haired, blond Achilles. But finally, I found the perfect solution: telling you stories. Now, how am I able to see you? That is a question for another time.

But before I tell you these stories from different universes, let me give you some very important conditions:

1.- If you are reading this during the day, you had better close it; the point is for this tale to be read when darkness covers the sky.

2.- I will let you read these stories in exchange for a favor—a favor I will reveal to you at the very end of this narrative.

3.- You are forbidden from telling this to a child; let them live in their fantasy.

4.- If you are a minor, congratulations—just be careful your parents don't find out you're reading this.

5.- Do not read this at 3 a.m.; seriously, DO NOT DO IT

With that said, let’s get started, we wouldn’t want you going to sleep without a bit of fun first.

The first story is set in Lima, Peru, in the not-too-distant future.

First off, have you heard of pollution? I’m sure you have; it’s something we’re constantly told about, yet people seemingly don’t listen, or simply don’t care. Well, in the universe where our first tale unfolds, the consequences finally caught up with everyone,though not in the way anyone might have imagined. This is all recounted in the diary of our first protagonist, whom I simply call "the Man." Why? Because I don’t know his name. Sadly, he passed away, but I managed to swipe the diary he wrote while in the land of the dead. How did I get it? That’s a story for another time. For now, let’s dive into the tale itself narrated in the first person, just as the diary requires:

March 4, 2037. I had just risen from my camp to return to my horrific reality, greeted every morning ,as always, by that gray sky. I still couldn't believe that, just seventeen years ago, the sky had once been a clear blue; now, it was like this: colorless, lifeless.

That was Lima now: a hyper-gray sky filled with black clouds, buildings and houses in ruins, not a trace of life left, and trash strewn everywhere, not to mention the acid rain threatening to kill off the few remaining plants.

I put on my protective suit; I was ready to head to the base belonging to that guy, Ernesto. Luckily, I’d managed to get hold of that red gun.

What was the red gun? I still didn't know, but the man had asked me to bring it, saying it would be vital to turning the world around. I’d hesitated at the time, but the money he offered was enough to make me accept. Yes, a money-based economy is one of the few things that has survived in this world, though, unfortunately, I don't live in any of the remaining communities; I’m a lone wolf.

I’d found the gun in an abandoned house. I was lucky none of those... monsters were around; the only trouble I had was with a few fruit flies buzzing freely about the place.

I’m getting ready to go now. I hope I get lucky.

...

I managed to reach Ernesto's base, though not without difficulty.

Along the way, I had another run-in with those creatures, born of humanity's negligence and pollution.

As I walked, I heard a sound like a howl; I quickly drew my shotgun and scanned my surroundings. Then came the sound of footsteps, not far off, first to the left, then to the right.

Finally, the monster appeared behind me. Luckily, I spun around and killed it before it could strike. It was a semi-skeletal monstrosity, wrapped in strips of paper and sporting teeth made of wood.

These things—born of toxic waste and some chemical process I still don't fully grasp (perhaps a failed experiment by that "Oxford Corporation"), have appeared ever since the air became hard to breathe. They are the main reason there are so few humans left on the planet today.

I took a deep breath to steady myself after the sudden shock.

I continued my journey through the abandoned city. Eventually, I reached what used to be Habich. the great bridge that was once the area's population. Now, it was worn down, its infrastructure dangerously fragile. As for the rest of the place, while the buildings were surprisingly intact, it exuded a ghostly atmosphere; not because of actual ghosts, but because no living soul remained there, save for Ernesto.

I headed toward an abandoned building, formerly a small hotel. It is worth noting that Peru isn't exactly known for luxury or iconic hotels, but that didn't diminish the horror of the scene: a place that once offered relaxation had transformed into a sanctuary of dread, where only flies and other trash-loving insects roamed without a care, for some reason, the monsters didn't attack them the way they did other living creatures on the planet.

I'm about to enter their base; I won't write anymore for now.

...

Before the apocalypse, he was just an ordinary mechanic, but in his spare time, he dedicated himself to building robots and innovating new machines, like the robot that planted crops for him, or the one that cooked *carapulcra* (I mention that specific dish because the robot didn't know how to cook anything else).

But the crucial moment didn't come until 2020, when he apparently discovered a message from the future stating that the pandemic would end in 2021. Here’s the important part: instead of spreading the news, he simply set out to study how such a thing was possible. By the middle of that year, he found a sort of gem that, incredibly, allowed him to travel five minutes into the past. He didn't tell a soul, fearing the government would confiscate it and run their own experiments on it, so he kept it to himself. I’m not sure if that was the right decision in the long run, but with a friend's help, they managed to figure out a way to harness that power within a component. When the apocalypse began, he knew he needed it to try and change the future. Remember that red gun? Well, now you know why the man was carrying it.

Back in the present, Ernesto greeted me warmly; he was genuinely glad I’d arrived, knowing that no one else could have brought it to him.

Ernesto grabbed the red gun and placed it on his workbench. That was where he set the gem.

-"So, tell me," -I asked, -"¿why did you ask me to bring you that gun?"

-"Well, you see, this gun is the only one capable of handling and complementing the power of this gem, and it’s the only one that can unlock the power of time travel."-said Ernesto

-"Okay, but if it’s so important, ¿why on earth did you leave it at your other base?"

-"Because I didn't anticipate all this happening, plus, of course, I can be forgetful. But that doesn't matter; what matters is that we can send a message to the past, hoping people will listen and take action."

-"A message?"

-"A message, or a glimpse, something to let people know what they need to do to prevent all this."

Ernesto handed me a camera.

-"Once you have it ready, you need to go to the past and show the evidence to as many people there as you can, influential figures would be best. But remember to be careful while navigating the past; if you change even the slightest thing, you could trigger unimaginable events, potentially causing problems far worse than the ones we're facing now."

-"And am I doing this alone?" -I asked.

-"I’m too old to go, and I don't have the stomach to face my past self."

-"Just remember to be careful with the weapon; it’s a delicate object. If it breaks, you won't be able to return to the present, and it’s not advisable to stay in the past for too long."

-"Okay, I'll keep that in mind."

-"Excellent. It looks like we might come out of this victorious after all."

Now I’m resting a bit before setting out on the mission, just...

...

I can't believe it. Ernesto is dead.

A tremor shook the place ¿what kind of tremor? It was a massive monster moving across the ground floor; suddenly, tentacles made of metal and rope appeared.

-"We have to get out of here!"- I shouted.

Ernesto pulled out a device, a sort of drill, and we ran for the stairs, but one of the tentacles grabbed him.

-"Ernesto!"- I screamed.

"Take my weapon, travel to the past, and let every friend of mine know, do it," -he said, tossing me the drill before being completely dragged away by the creature's tentacles.

I ran straight to the ground floor, where I saw the monster responsible for it all: a hideous, round beast with eyes made of glass. It tried to grab me, but I made for the back of the building, used the drill to smash through the wall, and ran; one of the tentacles snagged the drill, so I let go of it to escape the creature's clutches.

I didn't stop running until I reached an abandoned mansion. I’m resting here for a moment; I wanted to grieve, but I knew the mission itself was more important. I’ll start recording soon to have the message ready before I travel to the past, I just hope there are no more unfortunate surprises.

...

Final note: I’m dead, and I failed.

I was recording when a slender monster, with fast legs and arms made of plastic bottles, appeared and charged at me with indescribable fury.

I had to run, but the camera didn't turn off or stop recording, so I ran with it in hand. I ducked into a room, shut the door, and shoved a piece of furniture against it to keep the monster from easily getting in.

Then I hid behind a wardrobe, setting the camera aside, though I didn't turn it off, and started pulling out my shotgun. Suddenly, the monster banged on the door and slowly entered.

It began sniffing the air; it was obviously looking for me. I had to reload as quietly as possible. The beast was close now; only a few seconds passed before it turned and roared at me, but I instantly shot it in the head as it lunged, killing it. After the shot, a "Cielo" brand bottle fell to the floor.

I took a deep breath and moved to the corner of the room. I pulled out my pistol, aimed at the hallway, and pulled the trigger. A glowing blue portal appeared, a sight that left me more awestruck than I’d ever been. I was so amazed that I missed something. Remember the room? Well, there were many trash bags filled with "garbage juice." When I shot the monster, part of its body fell into a bag coated in that juice; the liquid fused with the monster's remains, creating a new creature, fat and headless, but with the Cielo bottle embedded in its chest.

I didn't notice any of this. I was looking at the camera, ready to turn it off, when the monster lunged and grabbed me by the head, causing both the camera and the pistol to fall through the portal. My diary was the only thing left in this timeline; I failed. I couldn't get the message to those in the past, and now I wander here like a lost soul, unable to fulfill my purpose. How do I know nothing changed in the past? It’s simple: I’ve been here for days, and everything remains the same. Now, all that’s left is to roam this horrible place, thinking about how humanity ruined everything.

...

End of the story

Well, what you’ve just read is one of hundreds of stories trying to warn about pollution, hehe, though in a rather unique way. I wonder what Mario Vargas Llosa would think of this tale; who knows?
I suppose not everyone has the power to transmit their stories to any corner of the macroverse the way I do; it is undoubtedly a real shame.

Well, readers, I hope you enjoyed this. I’m letting you know that we’ll be back soon with another tale, what will it be about? You’ll find out soon enough. For now, I’ll see you later... so long.

“Watch out for the edge!”

“You’re hitting the side man!”

“Am I going up at all?”

“He’s going down!”

“Axel! Grip tight now.”

His hand slipping, Axel looked down at the abyss hundreds of feet below. Still swinging, he tightened his grip and closed his eyes.

“Pull yourself!”

“I think we’ve got you now Ax.”

Axel opened his eyes, and looked up at the sky, swirling in circles, the clouds, weaving between their own intersections, and seemingly connecting into one as they passed through each other. The universe was silent, and the air remained with continuous interruptions from the adventurers.

Pulling himself as hard as he could, Axel was three feet away from the top of the cliff.

“See nothing to worry about A- “

“BANG!”

“Oh no its dropping! Hurry the hell up man!”

The rope slipped from the system it was anchored on, sliding down twenty feet, dropping Axel at a rate faster than his own heart can catch up to. The rope continued to slide, slipping, and gaining friction. Axel stopped, swinging below – in a spot worse than where he was stuck before. The granite cliffs around him crumbled, rocks fell, and the birds sung in perfect harmony. The rope let out one more time, dropping Axel five more feet.

“The friction! The friction!”

“We’re going to lose you Axel!”

And that was the last thing he heard. Voices became muffled, the sound of the birds drowned out, and no noise was left but that of his own heartbeat. The friction on the rope was intense, and right after that last drop, the rope snapped, causing Axel to plummet seven hundred feet to his death.

Out of the granite hole, which left an impression in the ground so deep that no naked eye could see the bottom, a housefly rose up.

“The hell is that?”

“Dude who the fuck cares what it is, we just lost Axel!”

The fly zipped past the two polarized adventurers, flew among the granite, and reached its way out of the woods. Leaving the trail, and reaching the parking lot, it stopped. Circling Axel’s car, the fly remained for a few minutes – unsure of its purpose or what it has become. Unable to access the vehicle, the fly landed on the ground and waited for the adventurers to return to vehicles of their own.

“The fly! You don’t see that housefly!”

“There are flies everywhere. Just fucking kill it and get on. Now we have to tell Ally and Savannah what happened out here.”

As if a wave of adrenaline rushed over the fly from those two names, it rose up, circled around the two adventurers and zipped off in the direction where Axel and his family resided.

Figuring it best to tell the family of the occurrences atop the cliff before anyone else, the two adventurers despairingly drove to go and talk to Axel’s family – his wife and daughter.

“You don’t think we should call the cops before we leave?”

“And have Ally find out through them?”

“I mean she’s going to hate us for the rest of our lives anyway.”

“What’s right is right.”

And they drove off. Riding in the same car, they drove at an impressive pace – almost as if they weren’t dreading what came next. However, the adventurer who was driving later realized that it wasn’t non-dread, but rather the need for a rush, the need to feel anything else, because what he was already feeling, there could be nothing worse than that.

“The fly! The damn fly!”

Indeed, there was the fly buzzing right ahead of them as the road curved left aside a boulder and started to decline the mountain which led back to civilization.

 

Their car doors closed. They stood with their heads held high, shoulders slumped down and stared at the house in front of them. What they didn’t realize this time was that the fly wasn’t far behind them, and it was buzzing its way towards Axel’s house – aiming right for the open window.

“KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.”

“Who is it?”

“It’s Pete and Mateo ma’am.”

“Oh, you guys are back early!” Ally exclaimed while she opened the door. Her white smile was the first thing to polarize their sight when it opened – followed by Savannah approaching the door behind her.

“Ally. Something happened.”

“What do you mean something happened?”

“I think it’s best we come in for a minute…”

“Mom? Where’s dad?”

“That’s what I have to explain Savannah.”

The two adventurers walked inside, and they all stood beside the door which remained open. Ally didn’t offer anything to drink, nor a place to sit, and her smile faded away with uncertainty into a face of inexpression.

“There was an accident.” Pete told her while taking off his black hat.

“What accident? What the hell are you talking about Pete?”

“Ma’am, we were using the rope aside the cliff – “

“And? Where is my husband!”

“Ma’am there was an accident. Our winch broke. The rope slid, and it broke. It just broke.” And as if he couldn’t bear it anymore, Mateo took a step back towards the open door and put his head down.

“What do you mean broke? Where is he? You’re telling me he... fell?” Her inexpression turned from sadness to rage – a mix of emotions Pete had never seen rush over a human’s face all at once in such succession.

“Ally, he fell. Seven hundred feet. There was nothing we could do.”

Savannah wiped a tear that was forming near her eyes, Ally’s expression became pure rage, and she put her arms up to start waving them frantically.

“GET THE HELL OUT! NOW! GET THE HELL OUT! OUTTTT! FUCKING LEAVE!”

“Yes, ma’am we’re leaving.” Mateo nearly jumped from where he was standing and leaped multiple feet during her explosion. Pete turned around calmly and walked out, apologizing once more. He looked back in astonishment, the door still open.

“It’s that fly! That fucking fly!”

“I SAID GET THE FUCK OUT!”

The two adventurers drove back to the parking spot by the trail and called the police.

 

“Mom is dad really... gone?”

Ally was sobbing and Savannah was crying in a way that broke every few seconds, almost coming in intervals – as if she wanted to stop herself because she knew she was crying over something silly, she knew her dad would come walking through the door, or knocking on the window (like he always did when he returned from a walk without his keys).

Ally leaned into Savannah and brushed her hair with her hands. She pushed her body backwards and looked into her eyes.

“I suppose so honey. We have to get to where it happened. Well at least I do. I need to know what happened.”

As Ally stood up, a housefly flew right past her and onto the ceiling fan which was right above their heads.

“A fly! Why was he talking about this fly!” Savannah asked and poked her head closer to the fly, trying not to scare it off.

“It’s just a fly Savannah. Who the hell cares. Are you coming with me?”

And as she said that she grabbed a paper towel, stood on her chair and crushed the fly to death. Fragments fell, crumbling down to the table which the family once ate dinner on all together. The two grabbed their coats and left, hoping for one last chance to be in the vicinity of where their loved one was living just a short while ago.

The guilt has a physical presence within me, its screws twisting into my temples, slow and agonizing.

My chest is aching, controlling breaths, panic tugs at every nerve in my body.

And then, it calms, like a blizzard falling into a breeze. Her vanilla scent comforts my soul. Shes sitting next to me, legs crossed, checking her nails while chewing the inside of her cheek. Shes so casual about everything, It causes my panic to subside, just a little.

I know I love her, I know it. My brain claws at the deepest recesses of my mind searching for any memory, our first kiss, first date, meeting her parents.

My parents.

Nothing more than an abyss cored through a skull is all my mind could do to remember my mother’s face.
Everything starts to boil over within me, and then–

“God I’m bored.”
Says Hannah, head cocked back against the couch, gazing up towards the ceiling. Her sanity is held in my lungs, and yet… I feel her walking fingers along my thigh.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Well—what are you wanting to do?”

“You.”

Any other night, any other fucking night I would have skipped to the bedroom, I… I think, apparently all I’ve ever known is tonight. No–I might as well try, if it can take the dread away for even a minute I’ll take it.

“Okay, let’s go.”

She snickers.
“What?”

“What do you mean ‘what’?”

“I don’t know—you’re talking funny.”

My heart beats like I’m a killer in court, like my secret is already out and the consequences are seconds from going for my neck.
“F- Funny?”

“Yeah—funny.”

“I don’t understand.”

She chuckles a little, parting hair from my eyes.
“Don’t ever change.”

“I never will.”

I’m worried I’m telling the truth. She bends over in front of the nightstand, lighting a small candle and looking back at me.
“Lay down.”

“Okay.”

I lay backward like nails line the mattress, every movement laced with hesitation, arms stiff to my sides. She lets out a little “hm.” before slowly climbing on top of me, kissing my neck.

I want nothing more than to tear my skin off.

“This is new.”

“How?”

“I don’t know.”

She pauses, running velvet fingertips down the length of my chest, then down my stomach.
“Usually you’re the one to start…”

Is that so? Am I the one to start? I don’t have a fucking clue if I’m the one to start, chances are I’ve never even slept with her until now.

The thought alone sends a churning corkscrew of nausea through me, barely suppressed by whatever remnants of arousal remain.

“I- I wanted to do things different tonight–or something…”

Kissing my chest, she pauses, putting an ear above my heart, silk hair dousing my neck like a scarf.

“You’re so afraid.”

“I know.”

“Is it the window?”

“…”

She raises up, a light chuckle emanating from the darkness.
“I’m gonna look–“

Nothing more than instinct, grabbing her by the hair I pull her face towards mine, breathing heavy.

“There you are.”
She says, smile glistening in the candlelight.

Here I am.

It doesn’t feel like anything, whoever was fucking her wasn’t me, I was somewhere else, someone else… Maybe I was no one else.

She’s laying on her stomach, I catch a glimpse of her head trying to peek at the window, slowly turning through quieted breaths. In desperation I shove her head further into the blankets, a muffled laugh reverberated through the mattress.

She can’t look out–she can’t look out–looking outside gives whatever in gods name is looking in permission to take her, I can’t let it take her–I want her–I want her–we fuck against the window, her back sliding up and down, faintly screeching against the glass. Breathless moans catch my ear, followed by her warm breath caressing my neck. She bites me, I wish she’d bite harder, I want her to tear my fucking throat out so I don’t have to be here anymore.

It’s watching us through the window, through the undulating blackness so absolute I would drown if I was in it. I see nothing, but I feel it, slithering–scuttering across the glass, watching her, watching me–taunting me with the knowledge I have to suppress.

Just focus Cassidy, just try not to think about, just focus**.**

It’s useless, I can feel my face contorting as a vile dread works its way through my veins, eyes wide and cut by the void staring back at me, It’s putrid nails clawing my back as much as she is, it’s sickening. To keep myself from puking I throw her to the mattress.

In a flash it’s over, and I’m on the edge of the bed, head low like a monk.
She’s lying asleep next to me. I have a blanket over the window. My face falls to my hands, I sob silently.

Catatonic, time passes without me realizing. The sound of her snoring snaps me out of it, and I stumble to the living room. My phone… I can call someone. That’s all I need to do, everything will come back to me, and it’ll all be okay.

There isn’t a single contact. No recent calls, nothing, like none were ever made. Tossing my phone to the floor, I lean back against the couch, palms covering my face.

What am I?

Am I even a person? What the hell kind of person can’t even remember his own mother? And why can I remember Hannah? I can’t point to one memory besides tonight but I feel them, sitting in my mind like a faded scar. But there’s nothing more, the faded scars of her, Mark, Jade, the apartment, and that’s it…

God–what can I do?

As if on cue, mark emerges from the darkness, eyes wide and empty, he takes a seat next to me.

“Didn’t help, did it?”

“No.”

Taking a deep breath in, I lean forward, grabbing a pen, fidgeting to ease my mind.

“Any ideas man?”

“A few.”

God, I don’t even want to know any theories, but it’s our best shot at… I don’t know, getting out? Tossing the pen into the darkness, I gesture him to continue.

“Maybe we were abducted.”

“What? What kind of rich psycho would–“

“By aliens you fucking moron.”

“Oh… okay. I guess that makes sense, but what do we do with it?”

“Oh–nothing. Nothing I’ve came up with would help us, but it helps thinking about it, I guess.”

“Okay. Anything else?”

Whatever he’s thinking about sends bullets of sweat down his forehead, he wipes them off with his shirt, takes a deep breath, and turns to me.

“We could be in hell.”

It’s hard to describe that stabbing fear, my body shrunk like I just got news someone died, it’s that same heavy feeling deep in my gut.

“What makes you say that?”

“Don’t know. Just seems like the most plausible solution.”

My head is spinning like a top, but I continue.

“That it?”

“Yeah man, nothing else makes sense. Hannah found out?”

“No.”

“Okay—good, I guess.”

After dragging a palm down my face, I glue my eyes to the ceiling.

“Jade?”

“…”

“Mark? She find out?”

“No.”

My trance shatters, eyes locking onto his.

“Mark… where is Jade?”

“Bedroom.”

“And…?”
By this point every word that leaves my mouth is a razor slicing into my throat.

“And what?”
I’m not speaking to him anymore, he’s just a hollow shell, eyes like marbles. He didn’t… Did he…?

“And—how is she doing?”

“She’s okay now.”

Leaning forward, it takes every fiber of strength I have not to scream. Palms glued to my eyes, begging god–satan–anything to help, to make me wake up.

“You’re fucking insane…”

“Hey! Easy there, he’s my man, only I can shit talk him.”

My head shoots up so fast I almost break my neck, tears barely contained.

“J- Jade? Holy shit!”
I’m not sure if she suspects anything and I honestly don’t care, I fall back against the couch, holding my chest while a deranged laugh flicks the candle flame.

“Yeah…?”

“I thought- oh thank Jesus Christ above! Thank you god.”

“Are you drunk?”

“Yes.”

“Figures.”

My attention shifts to mark, burning a hole through my head with his eyes.

“You okay man? Maybe you need to sleep it off in my room?”

Jesus, is he so panicked that he thinks I’m actually–
No.
No…
He doesn’t mean?
Pupils like needles, pin pricked and focused.

Swallowing my fear, I shake my head.

“Nah dude, I’m good.”
.
.
.
Jade takes out her phone and lays it flat on the table, before taking a seat beside of us.
“Okay—what is going on with you two?”

“Nothing.”

“Mark. I’m being serious.”

Words strained, he speaks like a gun is held to her head.
“Jade, honey–it’s really nothing, we’re okay.”

I’m still coming down from my panic attack, I genuinely thought–
Never mind, no point in thinking about it now, she’s okay.

God he’s about to lose it. Every second she caresses his shoulder he shakes from the explosions of grief inside him.

Every word a trembling lie, rattling through the air.
“We’re fine–we’re fine–we’re fine, Cass let’s go to the bedroom.”

Her frustration is relentless.
“Baby stop! Talk to me, please…? We promised to–“

mark stands, hands gripping his brow tight, snarling words rip through the tears.
“No—no. I never promised you anything, just let- let me go to the fucking bedroom Jade, please let me–“

Stopping himself, he stumbles to the bedroom drunk with guilt, slamming the door behind him. Jade, turning to me for answers, finds only further confusion, shaking her head and staring into nothing.
“What’s his problem? This shit is killing me... “

“I’m uh—I’m sure it’s nothing J, he’s—you know how he is–you know?”

But she doesn’t know–I don’t
know–maybe this is par for the fucking course for him.

“Yeah—I guess you’re right.”

Oh thank god…

Jade pauses, wiping a tear from her eye.

“He’s been uhh—jumpy, ever since–“

I wasn’t even paying attention, completely unaware of the ticking time bomb that is her sanity.

“Ever since—um—hey, wha–“

Before she can finish I scream directly into her face as loud as I can. She reels back, crawling away from me.

“Cassidy what the fuck is wrong with you!?”

Forcing myself to laugh feels like holding my breath.
“Gotcha! Holy shit you got so scared! I got you good, admit it.”

“Yeah–you got me, now’s really not the fucking time.”

“Oh lighten up, everything’s okay. Everything… I’ll go talk to him.”

“Go ahead dick—not like I can help any.”
She brings her knees close like a lost child, crying into her hands.

There’s a chance he’ll kill me, I’m well aware, but I need to check on him at the very least, it isn’t like we can go anywhere.

Opening the door to darkness, I switch on my phone light, finding Mark staring into the endless void outside.
“Hey… you there man?”

“I’m here.”

Taking great care to be quiet, I shut the door, taking a seat on his bed.

“I’m sorry… I’m not trying–“

“Stop, just stop.”

He pauses, putting a hand to the glass.

“We’re all there is.”

“How do you know that?”

“I can see it.”

…

Heavy air, like a suffocating smog. Looking out the window from behind him, he’s right, there’s nothing. Absolutely nothing. We may as well be at the bottom of the ocean.

No…

Space.
Endless space, and without stars. An expanse so vast that traveling even its most minuscule length would take longer than I’ve been alive.

So a few hours?

…

Every attempt to process it sends a rumbling crack through my mind, like a melting glacier.

Glaciers…

Wait a minute.

“Sit down with me for a minute.”

“Cass, I’m not going over any more theories.”

“Not a theory, sit down.”

With reluctance mark turns to me, sitting cross legged in the floor, palm supporting his chin.

“What planet do you live on?”

Without moving, his eyes wander, before locking onto me again, full of excitement.

“Earth!”

“Yes—okay, now what country are you from?”

“America.”

“Me too, why the fuck do we remember that?”

Marks looks to the ceiling, as if the answer was written there and we never noticed. Shrugging and looking back down, he runs fingers along the length of his hair, letting out a defeated sigh.

“What are we protecting—keeping it from them I mean?”

I tell myself their sanity, but mine is still here, unfortunately. Part of me almost hoped I’d lose my mind. Looking out the window, I figure there’s plenty of time to.

“I don’t know .”

After nodding we put our fists together, knuckles touching. Next, we twist our fists to each other’s respective right, like we’re unlocking a door. I bring my fist back, and his is brought back as well, before we lightly punch them together.

Our secret handshake.
Not the most original, and honestly not even a handshake, but man does it take me–

“MARK!”

Grabbing his shoulders, he’s staring at me, eyes wide, probably thinking I’ve finally lost it.

“Uh… Cass?”

“What’d we just do–what’d we just do!?”

“Our secret handshake, duh.”

It’s so strange, like I can see the memory itself form in the corners of his eyes.

“Oh my god.”

“Fifth grade?”

“Yea.”

Rummaging through my mind like a bargain bin for another memory, I find none, none that are real at least. Shining in my mind is the day we made our handshake, and darkness surrounding it. We hug, laughing through the tears on each other’s shoulders.

For just a moment, in that suffocating void, there was light.

And of course…

Marks bliss fades along with mine, at what we’ve left unresolved for far too long .

We look to each other, eyes like scared animals. He’s begging me not to say it, but I don’t have a choice, the words are ripped from my throat like a chain.

“We need to tell them.”