"Finally done with my finals week..." Alex said, as we finished yet another barrage of exams while attending a school in the big city. I came from the cornfields myself, so moving here was quite a lot to take in. Go figure, there's more things to do here than hang out at Wally World. I loved the excitement and rush of the big city, leaving behind my beloved cornfield strewn rust built town. I was still pretty naive looking back on it, as I had a pretty sheltered upbringing. But I found a circle of like minded quirky friends and we loved to get into shenanigans together. "So what are you gonna do over break?" I asked. Alex juggled a lot of work and school hoping to become a scientist himself. Definitely not a superstitious type. "Hopefully I'll get a full night's sleep for once...." he retorted. Rohit met us shortly at lunch. He was a well to do and extremely smart fellow. We talked about our plans and quickly found out we really had nothing much going on. The college town usually cleared out over break. That small town boredom was all too familiar and reared its head. We decided to explore the city a bit and soon found an old abandoned house. It was owned by a man called Eldin Snape, an elderly shut in who suddenly disappeared. With no heirs to claim his estate, the house fell into neglect. The windows were boarded up and it looked in disrepair. "I hear nobody has been in there for over 30 years...." Alex said. "Hah, I bet there's probably some ancient demonic book or something in there." Rohit said jokingly. The house was entirely abandoned, and against my gut instinct to not do something stupid, we soon hopped the fence and stumbled in to see what we could find. We soon encountered an arsenal of bookshelves strewn with books. So I started pulling books off the shelves....."Potion Making 101"..."The Beginners Guide to Growing Poison Apples"... "12 Steps to becoming a Mind Reader".....As you might imagine I was surprised to find such peculiar books here. "What a weirdo, why does he have all of these ridiculous books?" Alex said. "I guess when you're an old shut in, books become your best friend" Rohit retorted. Something was off about these books though.... they looked to be extremely old, hundreds of years old even. The pages were tattered and every book we opened just plumed with that unmistakable old book smell. We soon found an empty leather chair, and there was an open book sitting on it. "Invisibility and Transformation Spells for the Budding Magician." Of course a giant lightbulb went off in my head....but there was no way....I bet somebody else came here before and left that behind as a joke. "I found this book on invisibility, I bet Eldin is invisible now and sneaking into the theaters as we speak." I started reading through it and the entire book was written in Latin.... totally incomprehensible. But it had a bunch of pictures of different animals in it, even fictional ones like gryphons and dragons. "Oh my god!" Rohit shrieked from the next room. We walked over and soon found that one of the bookshelves had turned into solid gold. A book lay on the floor..." The Midas Touch." Shocked, I started wondering if those gummy bears my girlfriend gave me had acid in them. Alex soon walked over and had a look of shock and horror plastered on his face, then I knew this was the real deal. "What did you do?!" Alex roared. "I picked it up this book and...... he paused and soon grew an aura of maliciousness around him. He was the only one of us who knew Latin, being the well-read fellow he is. "These books turn people into gods...and there can only be one god....lest the world be thrown into a divine war....." Consumed by insanity, he lunged and touched alex. He quickly materialized into a solid gold statue, frozen in a state of horror and awe. He then looked at me with the same terrifying look. Immediately, I started sprinting towards the door. I don't know what instinct kicked up inside me, but I managed to snag the book the old man left behind before making it out. I outran him and soon made it home with the book safely in tow. Terrified and trying to gather my thoughts, I knew two things. My former friend had totally lost his mind, and if I didn't stop him, the world would most certainly end. As I sat in the porch trying to glean any comprehension of the book, a black cat walked before me. "Great, is this the bad omen that's supposed to tell me I'm screwed?" I said aloud. "Quite the opposite..." the cat said back."My name is Eldin, and your genius friend didn't read the part where the power of the Midas Touch comes with the price of insanity." I knew Rohit well, and I knew he would never do something like that on his volition. "The magical ward I placed over that building wore out, and I was just on my way to re-cast it when I saw you running away." The cat said. "That house is filled with books of tremendous power, and ideally those books won't slip into the wrong midas-touchy hands..." Still reeling from shock, I mumbled out, " So what can we do now?!" "We kill him, that's what. Don't worry about a thing." the cat said. "Isn't there any other way we can reverse the effects?" I asked, wanting desperately to save my friend from insanity. "There is, but doing so requires placing your hand on his chest and reciting an enchantment. You get too close to him, and you're dead. Killing him is the only way." I immediately came up with an idea and showed him the book I took. "This book allows you to turn invisible right? What if I sneak up to him and say the magic anti-batshit insane words?" "That could work, but doing so takes a few moments. He can still hear your voice and feel your touch, and if he reaches out and touches, you'll become a trophy just like your friend." I knew doing this would be a huge gamble, but if I didn't try, this mage was going to assassinate my friend. "Why don't I try... and if I fail and get turned into a hunk of gold you can undo it......right?" The cat gave a long pause before answering. "No I cannot. Anything turned to gold through the Midas touch cannot be undone. Haven't you read the myth?" I cared deeply my friend and knew he had an extensive family that loved him. Hesitantly, I said, "That's a risk I'm going to have to take. If I don't make it out, melt down my body and sell the gold. Give half the money to his family and half to mine." The cat sighed. "I don't have time for this...." and walked away. I read through the book until I found the section until I found a picture of a man turning invisible. Using my trusty friend Google Translate, I was able to read it and recite the enchantment, and soon my body faded away with my consciousness still present. I solemnly walked back to house, and saw my friend hunched over a brewing cauldron with open books strewn everywhere. I snuck up to him and ever so slightly touched his chest as he sit over his cauldron and began whispering the words. As luck would have, the rotting floor gave way and my foot fell through the floor halfway through the enchantment. Panicked, I started speedily reciting the enchantment hoping to finish it before he figured out what was going on. His arms emitted a strange glow and he flailed them in a panic, hitting me on the shoulder. I felt my feet slowly go numb, but I managed to finish the recitement in time. Rohit passed out before me, and I lay on the floor slowly becoming a gold statue. The cat walked up to me as the gold had crawled up my body and reached my chest. "Idiot...." He booped me with his paw and immediately my body returned to normal. He walked up to Alex and did the same. I stood up filled with rage. "You told me the spell was irreversible!!!" "Eh, killing him would have been easier." the cat said. "Now, get out of my house." Cats are assholes.


Midnight. The blue full moon stands proud in the sky shining his bright blue rays on the world and moving slowly and effortlessly through the night sky. The fields resonate with the moon's subtle glow and the grass dances with th rhythm of the wind. It is a quiet night. This is why a company of teenagers from the nearby village decided to go to the field this night and look at the beauty of the moon. As they arrive at a spot which seems appealing to them and decide to sit down, a crow violates the sacred silence of the night with his rhythmic cawing. The company seems somehow worried by this commonplace sound. It sounds somehow more threatening than every other time they have heard it and it strikes fear within them. Then it stops as unexpectedly as it started. Before the company has the chance to realise their irrationality. The crow starts cawing again and shortly after that, a second crow joins the first and then a third and a fourth. And more amd more crows start screaming violently forming a loud penetrating and menacing sound, that becomes more and more supernatural every minute that passes. The resulting cacophony makes the air oscillate so violently that it seems like reality itself is shaking. The teenagers start looking anxious and insecure. As the cacophony continues, the light of the moon seems to dim more and more and everything becomes gray losing its vividity. The cawing seems to come from one place. That being a large tree at the far end of the field. Everyone's eyes are locked on that tree. Suddenly hundreds of crows fly out at once and start covering the sky like rain clouds. The teenagers start to feel a burning fear inside them. A deep, irrational, supernatural fear. As the thousands of crows spread across the night sky the gray landscape starts to absorb light once again but this time not the usual calming blue hues of the fool moon but rather red violent ones that peevade the landscape and wake up ones deepest and most primal fears. The crows seem like droplets of blood in the sky forming a stream of blood that leads to the tree that now seems like a beating heart. It was a young girl from the company who first started screaming. She fell to her knees and blood started flowing from her eyes down her young and smooth face as she was sobbing on the ground. On by one the other teenagers looked at what the girl was seeing. The moon. The blood stream of the crows finally reached the moon and painted it red. The bleeding moon pervaded all that its rays touched. The world is at the mercy of the blood moon. But that was not all. Whoever looked straight at the moon saw something much more terrifying. The accounts of the teenagers vary in all aspects except from one. They are all sure that they were contacted by someone from the moon. Some described a demonic sadistic smile. Others sharp teeth drenched in human blood and others two eyes that contained hell itself within them. Whatever this creature is. Whatever this pervasive demon is, it resides in our moon and it is watching us every night waiting for the right time to set forth his devilish plans.


Well, since you asked me how I got that strange, terrifying, statue outside my house. I believe I can answer that question. It began, eight years ago, when I took up residence in a large cottage, that lay just outside the woods, and was a good five minute walk from the town. When I moved in, I decided to try and set up a strawberry patch in the woods, for I wanted to grow my own fruit, instead of paying far too much for store bought rubbish. So, I began digging and preparing land for the upcoming spring, when I caught sight of something in the distance. It looked like a large hairless man, crouched on all fours like a wolf, or perhaps a dog. It looked to be about a mile from my home, and it was staring at me. "Begone strange creature" I yelled at the beast "Don't you know this land is private property" I said, pointing at the sign that stated that these parts of the woods were my private property. The creature was unmoving. "Come on now" I said, picking up my rake and pointing it at the creature that was quite far away "Go away" After twenty more minutes of trying to coerce the monster off my land, I sighed, put down my rake, and returned to my home. As I ate my dinner, I had the sudden urge to look out of the window. I opened the blinds and checked for the creature. There it was, same position, same place, same glaring expression. Unnerved, I retired to my bedroom where I had a happy time browsing the strange website known as Reddit. When I awoke in the morning, I decided to inspect the creature. I walked through the trees, ignoring the strange notes, pages, and various carvings of eyes, monsters, and a tall man in a suit, I caught sight of it. I picked up a stick and began poking the still creature. It screeched but still did not move. I checked behind it and saw that it had appeared to have moved a quarter of a mile in the night. I opened it's jaw and checked it's teeth, they were covered in strawberry juice, as well as it's claws. It's skin was leathery and it's eyes were fierce and terrifying. I decided it was a statue being used as a prank, and took out a pin, a pen, and a piece of paper, and scribbled a strongly worded not asking the perpetrators to remove the statue, and then pinned it to the back of the creature. I saw the eyes grow wide and water begin to well up in it's sight spheres. I tutted at the animatronic as I now presumed, and returned to work on my strawberry patch. However, after an accident with a time warp, I instead woke up two days later and decided, out of interest, I opened the window. The statue was now right outside the strawberry patch, and about fifty metres from my house. I strutted up to the creature, noting the note still sticking out of it's skin, and the monster was no longer still. "Well" I told it "If you want to have strawberries, your going to have to work to get them" I handed it a rake, and pointed at the leaves around my allotment "Now rake and harvest my strawberries!" I yelled, and began to walk away. When I looked outside during lunch, I saw the raking creature raking and harvesting. "Good Raking Creature" I called "Bring in some strawberries!" The raking creature raised it's head, put down the rake, and began picking the strawberries and putting them into a basket, before bounding to my house. The door slammed open and it joined me at the table. It slammed down the basket, and began devouring the strawberries. "You idiot!" I yelled "You've eaten them all! Now there's no seeds left and no strawberries!" The creature looked me in the eyes. They were red like the strawberry juice that was now on my table. It stared, before it growled. It stepped outside and went back into the woods. I was eating my dinner but a few hours later when suddenly the raking creature slammed against the window. I let out a scream and leapt to the front door and into my car. As I drove, the woods were to the right of me, and I could see something moving among the trees. I drove for ten minutes before I reached my destination. I had passed this shop many times before, but now I would finally enter. The shop was known as Dawes' Witchcraft Emporium, and it looked as if it were an antiques shop filled with wizards tools. I threw myself out of the car and into the shop. I was met by a child wearing a pair of spectacles, a school uniform, and robes that were far too long with stars on. He stared at me, I stared back. "Do you own this shop child?" I asked the child "No, I'm just looking after it while everyone else is at sainsburys" he replied "The names Harry" "Do you have anything that could get rid of a raking creature?" I asked him "Of course we do, shall I get you a medium sized wand with a twelve M crystal" "Yes, that should do just fine" "How about a cauldron?" "What?" "A cauldron, mix up some potions, enchantments, other things" "I'll take them!" I yelled The boy handed me a large heavy box that showed a cauldron and a load of potions, that read ***'Cauldron Starter Set'***, and was very heavy. He also handed me a beautiful wand with a large glowing purple crystal on the end. He scanned the items. "That will be $369.98" He told me. I handed him my credit card and payed for the items before returning to my car. I placed the cauldron in the back with the large oddly familiar statue in the back. I sat in the driver’s seat, and began the drive back home. As I looked in the rear-view mirror, I realised the Raking Creature was in my cars back seat. I screamed and pulled over and ran into the woods clutching the wand. I ran past various notes, scrawlings, and other various pages, until I eventually ran headfirst into a tall man in a suit with no face. “Oh, hello there” I said as my vision turned to static and I blacked out. When I awoke, it was night time. My head hurt, and there was a raking creature slobbering over me. “I told you!” I yelled “You ate all the strawberries!” I scrabbled for the wand the child in the store had given me and found it. I lifted it with both hands. “Anti-Raking-Creature-Blast!” I yelled at it. Nothing happened. As I ran through the undergrowth, the raking creature on my heels, I looked over the wand and saw a sticker on one part. ***‘Requires registered spells contained within the magical spell cloud book. Not Included’*** ‘Damn’ I thought. And then I saw it, in the distance, the shop! I ran across the road, nearly getting both me and the creature run over by a car. I banged on the windows and opened the door. The creature was prevented from entering within a radius of five metres of the shop. The boy was waiting for me behind the till. “I suppose you will be wanting the spell cloud book” “What does the cloud part mean?” “It updates whenever someone makes a new spell. A new page magically appears on every copy” “Oh, well I’ll take it!” “That’ll be $79.99” I paid the child, and confronted the creature outside the store. I opened the 2793 page book to the table of contents, and tried to find a total obliteration spell. There wasn’t one. Then I saw it, magical force field, protects you and an area of your choice from any form of attack. I tapped on the title and the book turned to the page I wanted. I cast it. The creature leapt at me the moment I left the vicinity of the store. It bounced off as if I was a living bouncy castle. I began running until I finally got to my house and cast it again. The creature stood on the outside, ever watching, ever growling. Many people tried to mug and stab me, calling me a freak or a demon. And outside my house, the monster still growled. I grew annoyed of this and so I used a spell to turn it into a statue and left it outside my house as a warning. Next to it I put a sign.


First and foremost: unicorns are not what you're thinking of. Rather than pink manes and long, golden horns, they're more brownish. They have one long, winding horn, in fact, and leaf-green, glowing eyes. They have leaves--or what looks like leaves--on their legs, backs, and manes. They're older than you or me, even your grandmother and grandfather. Sometimes I believe they're as old as time itself. They're smart, and they know everything about you before you even see them. And they care about us. I had an encounter with a unicorn. Here's my story. My mother always hated animals. She hated the mess they made, she hated their fur, and most of all, she hated their noise. It was her least favorite thing about them. I, on the contrary, adored animals. Anytime I saw someone walking their dog, I went out of my way to go and pet it. But horses? Oh, horses were my very *favorite*. I was the horse girl who drew them constantly in school, wore the shirts, had the backpack. But no matter how much I begged and pleaded, mother would never let me so much as look at one. I don't know why, all she said is that they were dangerous. But one of my classmates, Erin Evans, she had horses. She showed me a picture of her dapple-grey gelding once, and I was awe-struck. Also green with envy. I wondered why that couldn't be me. One day, I was making my way home from school. I have to take this long road every day, because my mother works at the diner from 9:00 to 5:00. The bad part was the Owens boys lived on this road, and they were bound determined to make my life hell. I tried to walk faster by their house, but they were inevitably outside. And me trying to run like a scared animal didn't make it any better. They grabbed me by my hair and grabbed my backpack, laughing like this was a game.I think it was a game for them. I can't imagine any other reason they would like to do this. "Hey, carrot-top! What have you got for us today?" Doc asks. "Just a load of damn horse drawings." Gilbert huffs, before throwing them down. I gasp and try to dive for them because they were the best ones I had ever done. I was going to give them to my mother as a present. But they landed in a puddle, and even as I picked them up, the ink was still smudged everywhere. They call me carrot-top once more for extra measure, then hurry off behind their house before their pa could see them. I stand up and wipe my nose hard to keep from crying. I grab my backpack and throw it back over my shoulders. I hate those boys. I step on my ruined drawings as I pass them. I wipe my eyes some more. Stop being a baby, Adeline. You're in fourth grade now. This is when girls get taller and more mature. But I'm stuck in my skinny red-headed body. Sometimes I just wish I could borrow someone else's for a while. Caught up in my thoughts of self pity, I don't notice it until I'm right up on it. As I hear a defensive snort, I stop suddenly, breath catching in my throat as my blood turns to ice. Is it a bear? There's a lot of those where I live. Oh god, what if it is a bear? I completely blank on what to do and dive behind an old boulder. This is followed by silence, apart from the occasional pained snort. But at a soft, sorrowful nicker, my heart starts beating faster than it ever has. I peer around the boulder slowly, and am entirely awestruck. There, laying pitifully on the grass, is a horse. Except, not a horse. He has leaves caught in his long mane, and it hangs over his eyes. But I watch as he blinks, and see two bright green irises. He has leaves in the feathers on his hooves and leaves scattered about his back. I watch as his wobbly legs struggle to lift him up, before he falls back down with a pained neigh. I realize now, with a surge of adrenaline, his leg is caught in a bear trap. *A bear trap*. What are the chances? But the most awe inspiring thing about this horse.. Is the horn on his head. I think it would be longer, but it's *cut*. I watched a documentary once about rhinos. People cut their horns off to sell them. I think that's what happened to him. My breath catches in my throat as I move before I have time to think. I approach him slowly, and he notices me in an instant. His struggling stops, and he looks at me. I'm frozen for a moment. His power is raw, enormous. I'm not meant to see him. But man has failed him. So I have to show him that not all people are bad. *Wait--what?* When did I get so poetic, anyway? In any case, I keep on approaching him. He stays stiff, staring at me. I think he knows my intentions. I think he knows everything about me. I kneel before him, my eyes going to the bear trap on his leg. I breath in as I scoot forward, beginning to fool with the trap. I feel around, before finally finding it. I notice his hooves are a beige color, and in the cracks, I can see leaves. As I pull the latch, he yanks his leg out at once, stumbling backwards. He hops for a moment, before snorting and slowly putting his hoof down on the ground. I watch in awe as the grass grows higher, and weeds wrap around his leg, gradually, until you can no longer see it. He waits there a moment, before snorting, and just as quick as they'd came, the forestry returns to the earth. I gasp. His leg is healed. He looks at me, and speaks. But without moving his mouth. His voice is everywhere. All throughout the forest, if you'd only listen. "*Thank you, Adeline.*" "W-What are you?" I blurt before I could think. Real smooth, Adeline! "*I am The Forest,*" He snorts in amusement. "*I am its protector.*" "You.. keep it safe?" I asked, amazed. "*Yes, Adeline. But I could never do it without your help. People like you are what keep the forests of the Earth alive. Not me*." I smile. Even though I can't tell, I think he smiles back. As he turns to go, I blurt, "Will I see you again?" He turns his head back at me, his long mane moving with his actions. "*Indefinitely*." He replies. I smile more, and I watch him go off, deeper into the forestry. To my surprise, just as his front half is hidden by the bushes, he suddenly turns into a bear. I grin as I watch him bound off. I take a breath in, and slowly make my way back to the road. I love the forest. And now I know it loves me back. As I look up to the leaves, I see them move, following after me. And I smile. Care for the forest. Please. Because it loves you dearly, and you should return the favor.  **The End**   **\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_** Hi if you read this far! Before you're too harsh on me, note I'm only a youngin' trying to get into a new hobby. I hope you do like my story! But maybe go easy on me with critique? Only because I wear my heart on my sleeves. Also sorry for the swearing! I squeezed my eyes shut and typed it fast.


(WP) The Real Housewives of Mount Olympus “Welcome to Mount Olympus, home of the great Greek gods and goddesses, as well as the occasional demigod!” Mena’s first thought was that these deities really, really liked pastels. Soft splashes of color were everywhere, and it was near impossible to keep her eyes trained on one place. The tour guide was an overenthusiastic young woman, dressed in the tackiest purple toga Mena had ever seen. This place was a far cry from what she’d imagined. It was the worst kind of tourist trap, and if she didn’t know better, she would’ve thought mortals were sporting costumes and cheap dollar-store tiaras. But that thought was soon forgotten; Mena’s eyes were drawn to a bickering couple, who didn’t seem to notice that there was a knot of nosy people watching them. “If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times: I’m not sleeping with anyone else, Hera!” “So you’ve said. But you’re forgetting that I found lipstick on your shirt collar not three days ago!” His companion retorted, tossing her head like an angry horse. She was dressed in a voluminous gown that brought to mind purple sunsets; her dark hair bound in an elegant chignon that was coming loose. “Do you think me completely dense? You’ve been doing things like this for eons!” A guy next to Mena was surreptitiously recording the disagreement on his phone, and she bit her lip to hide a smile. It was one thing to catch mortal celebrities biting each other’s heads off, but two godly beings? The kid would probably sell the video to the highest bidder, a filthy gossip rag that Mena hated. A god was sitting on a fluffy golden cloud, strumming a lyre, pretending not to listen, but his bored expression hid sharp, bright eyes that were more observant than thought of at first glance. Another pair of gods stood nearby, ones that Mena couldn’t immediately identify. Both were clad in armor, and their voices were muffled. “Come on, I’m bored!” One pleaded, brandishing a spear. “Please? Look, there are people here! They can watch us!” “You know I don’t fight unless it’s absolutely necessary,” The other replied, shaking its head, its helmet clanking with the movement. There was a groan of annoyance, but Mena’s attentions were distracted the arrival of another couple, in a cloud of cold blue smoke, and they were a contrast in every sense of the word. The man was tall and dark, clothed in a black cape and a dark gray suit; he had dark skin patterned with tattoos, and an afro that added a few inches to his height. His face was grim and unsmiling, and a dark aura pulsed around his body, forbidding and sickly. The woman was tiny, bringing to Mena’s mind a forest pixie. Her gown was pink, the color of cherry blossoms, and her long, brown hair streamed down her back, strung with bright blooms, and her feet were bare. Her olive skin was covered in what looked like moving vine tattoos, and she kissed the man’s cheek before flitting off to talk to a man with winged shoes. Mena felt like she was more in a dream than real life; this all had such a surreal feeling to her. But she couldn’t say that it wasn’t entertaining.


It started as a simple Friday, I had just woken up, and after getting ready for work began heading to the Police Station, when I received a call on my cell phone, it was from a Hidden Number, which is typical seeing as though I work for the Defence Department, we, investigators, like to stay untrackable. I answered. “Hello, I’ve got an evidence sheet for Mr. Wattel”, the voice was shaky, petrified almost, and real, which was weird, callers with hidden numbers always had some sort of a voice filter applied. “Yes, that is me.” I answered. “You are likely on your way to work, I’m going to need you to divert your path to HQ, your case is… One of a kind, to say the least.” He said, still with a weird undertone to his voice. “Alright, I’ll be there in-” *BEEP*, the caller had hung up. HQ was about 2 hours away, so I took the first exit off the highway and sped off. About 20 minutes into the trip, I receive another call, still a hidden number. “Mr. Wattel, when you arrive at HQ, head to Executive parking and go straight through wing 8-E to the Evidence desk.” Said a new man, it still didn’t seem like he had a voice changer. “Alr-” *BEEP*, he had hung up on me. 1 Hour and 15 Minutes into the trip I receive a final call, from the client who ordered this precise case. “Hello, this is Mr. Wattel speaking, how may I help you?” I asked after several seconds of complete silence on his end. Suddenly, they erupt in tears, I can hear them muttering something in between their sobs, but nothing I can quite piece together. “I am going to need you to calm down if you want to speak to me.” The crying continued for about 2 Minutes, when the voice suddenly became extremely clear, sharp, it was metallic, and not at all like my client’s. “Mr. Wattel, tell me your security response code.” I felt chills running down my spine, Security response codes are extremely confidential and the public should know nothing about them, witness protection program members included. I hung up instantly, probably not the wisest of choices, but the remainder of the drive was peaceful thankfully. Upon arrival, I parked at the spot closest to 8-E I could find, turned the engine off, got out and walked to my trunk to get my backpack. I spent a few minutes looking for my staff ID, it had been buried at the bottom of my bag after not being used for several months. I lifted my head and noticed 10 Armed men had surrounded me, likely an escort. This got me extremely interested in what had happened that I would need a VIP-Class escort to get from my vehicle to a wing entrance, also slightly worried. I greeted them and began to go towards the building, I scanned my ID, and proceeded inside to find that only one was still following me. I looked behind, the other men began barricading the entrance, I knew I had been locked in, 8-E is an isolation wing with a single door to the outside world, and another door leading to solitary confinement. 3 people were standing by the evidence desk, seemingly waiting for me. One of them, I actually recognized, it was Mrs. Andrews, she had been my partner in the academy several months prior. I walked up to them, they did not utter a single word, Mrs. Andrews handed me the file, you could hear a pin drop as I was reading the sheet, nobody dared speak. *Type: Confidential Case Investigator: Mr. Wattel, Mrs. Andrews, Mr. Black Initial Situation: Triple alleged kidnapping New Information: 718 People gone, all in similar situations, where it should have been noticeable by all authorities, we are still searching for more victims.* My heart skipped a beat as I read the amount of disappearances, I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me, so I reread it, it was correct. One of the other men broke the silence, “Welcome to the Team, my name is Jon Black.” “Welcome, I think you might already know me. We will all be stuck here, in isolation, until we get this case figured out, your family has already been informed” said Mrs. Andrews, with a clearly fake smile The third man stood still, he didn’t introduce himself, he was just shaking, paralyzed. There were a few other people sitting in the waiting area that I was able to catch a glimpse of. Well, people would be an overstatement, creatures. They looked like those creepy stock photos, one of them had their mouth sealed, or rather had no mouth whatsoever. Another man had an IV beside him and had 4 arms, the last one had a suspiciously large amount of eyelids covering his face. Just looking in that room made me shiver. We walked to the interrogation sector, which was filled to the brim with family members of the victims. I took the first room on the left, Mrs. Andrews occupied the 4th room on the right of this narrow corridor, she claimed it was her lucky number. As per protocol, each person was interrogated, the cold and gray walls of these small rooms weren’t helping or reassuring anybody. Out of all the stories we received, we identified only about a quarter as plausible explanations, the rest as fiction. Most of the stories we said were most likely were people turning their back only to see their loved ones vanish, the rest were tales of black tentacles spreading, some people claimed it was But this was a government super secret case so all of the stories were kept as plausible for us to sift through with more attention later. Mrs. Andrews had been on several of these cases prior to this one, Mr. Black had just graduated from the academy so the 2 were working together mostly. I had already been on one isolation case, about a chemical weapon reserve built by the Texas state government. We all took a break to go to an office and discuss our findings, which was close to absolutely nothing "Well, what have you found?" Asked Mr. Black "Lies." Answered Mrs. Andrews with a sigh, she was stubborn and very picky. "Absolutely nothing we can go off of" I replied "I investigated one of those men" He said, pointing at the waiting area, "the only thing I got out of him was the word Black, he was either calling my name or saying something about his experience, after that I let him go back." 6 hours into this intense questioning session, I got one of the “Creatures” into the room I had occupied for interrogation, this was the one with the superficial amount of eyelids. He came in with one of the security guards, who stood within the room, I could spot a taser in his holster, seriously creeping me out. I asked the creature the regular questions; “Who are you?” A gut wrenching screech came out of its mouth, this was going to be no easy task. “How did ‘this’ happen to you?” He lifted his shirt and pointed at a small device, stapled into his stomach, releasing another out of this world shriek. “May I investigate this object?” Immediately, I saw every single eye open, they were looking at me extremely menacingly, he began flailing his arms, at which point, the guard was preparing to tase him. I used all the calming techniques I was taught in the academy on this extraterrestrial being and told the guard to put away the weapon. The guard obliged, though doubtful and unsure, seeing the expression on his face. I took the creature’s response to my question as a clear “no”. “What did it feel like?” I asked, in a rush to get done with this one, all the contents of my previous meal were already halfway up my oesophagus from terror. He either didn't hear the question or didn't want to answer, I still needed information so I repeated the question. "What did it feel like when you were abducted or captured? Who did it?" I asked, more sternly this time. He definitely understood the question, and was not happy, his eyes suddenly went pitch black. He repeated, in the creepily clear voice I had heard on the phone many hours ago, “Mr. Wattel, tell me your security response code.” Roots of black were growing onto the rest of his face. The guard seemed perplexed as to what was happening but did not seem surprised in the slightest, he quickly pulled out the taser and shot at this humanoid, whose skin had turned almost metallic and completely deflected the probes. The black had continued spreading down to his neck, then to his arms, but it didn't stop at his body, it spread out onto the desk on which his hands were laying. Onto the walls from there, and like roots from his feet. The guard had completely lost his marbles and was desperately trying to open and bang on the door, Mrs. Andrews rushed from her interrogation desk to mine and was equally terrified and trying, as was the guard, to liberate us. I felt my own body starting to be consumed in this dark substance, which I could now tell was not solid, it was more like a thousand little tentacles. And the world suddenly froze, the last thing I saw was the guard in a panic with the worst facial expression I've ever seen on anybody, and the door's middle window fading into black. There was no sensation, it was just **void.** I had woken up, this same black matter still present everywhere around me, but it seemed like I’d been spared, it hadn’t consumed my body like it had everything else in the room. The guard lay a few feet away from me, motionless, also completely unscathed. I could feel the tiny serpents that comprised this material, slithering under me. Looking around more attentively, the walls which had previously enclosed the 3 of us had vanished, as had the creature. The roof and floor extended infinitely from what I could tell. What was even weirder was that it wasn't pitch black like it should've been seeing as there were no light sources within this 'realm' from what I could tell, you could see fairly well. I was hoping I would wake up in the warmth of my bed, but it didn’t happen. My only option seemed to be to stand up. I did, the minuscule organisms seemed to pay no mind to me, squashing their bodies with all my weight. My curiosity to find out what this goo was overwhelmed by a feeling of loneliness and hopelessness, so, in a fit of rage, I threw my fist at the floor. That hurt, it turned out to be completely solid, I began to doubt my mental state heavily. Not knowing what to do next, I started walking in as straight a line as I could. Just a minute into the walk, I heard a yell from behind me, I froze, I had definitely not expected to hear any sounds during my venture, it was coming from behind me, I swiftly turned around, prepared to run for my life. It was the guard, he had awoken and was jogging towards me, not wanting to be left behind in this space, I let him join me, fairly happy to have company. There was no way for us to keep track of our direction and location as there were no objects to keep track of, just roof and floor. We continued walking as linearly as we could, though I was sure we were just doing large spirals around this 'room'. After around 3 Hours, I finally came up with the idea of checking my cell phone, which should’ve come to me much sooner. Well, I took it out of my pocket and unlocked it, now, on a normal day, I’d usually see my home screen and a few SMS or Missed calls, I determined that it currently wasn’t a normal day, I had nearly 800 missed calls, all of which were hidden numbers, and not a single SMS, which was bizarre, the usual ratio was 5 SMS to 2 Calls. Voicemail had been left so I went ahead and checked it, I felt the blood drain from my face as I listened to the first one. That same exact voice I had heard before, repeating a multitude of times, “Mr. Wattel, tell me your security response code.” After freezing for a few seconds, I got myself back to a state where I could at least process my thoughts and continued listening to these messages. The four or five more recent ones were all the exact same. I had completely given up at this point, but I did notice something peculiar, I had outstanding network coverage, although it was interesting to know, it served absolutely no purpose. I was just about to put away my phone when I get an alert; "Mr. Wattel, we have just woken up after being sucked in by a similar black substance as you were. You may not even be alive, but there are three of us, a guard, myself, and Mr. Black, try to respond somehow." My limited technological skills would not be of use, so I thought of the only other logical thing to do, yell at the very top of my lungs, to give them an orientation to follow, if indeed they were with us. Mere seconds after I had screamed, the serpents began to slither up into a statue or shape in front of us, they formed a dark and obscure face with an extremely agitated expression, adding to the fact that about a thousand tentacles, snakes, or whatever they are, are building a human face above us, the room was suddenly entirely lit up, I could tell because I was squinting from it and also the fact that the guard, still with me, was illuminated., Though, still, not a single light source was visible. I was expecting the worst with this creature, and I think that is basically what I got. It gaped it's mouth, only to reveal the beast that had sat with us in the room just hours prior, well I say hours, I have no idea how long I was asleep, the clock on my phone is acting weird. He jumped and immediately began running at us, me and the guard separated and began running in different directions, which was probably the best thing we could have done, as the creature was trying to keep track of both of us and, even with all of its eyes, couldn't quite do it, causing it to kneel and rub its eyes for a few seconds before picking up the chase again, going after me, there was no escape, I knew that, but I kept running and running. I closed my eyes to concentrate every bit of strength my body had on increasing the distance between me and the creature. Then, I knocked into something, I wanted to be ended, right then and there, quickly, without any pain. Opening my eyes for what I thought would be the last time, I spot human skin, Mrs. Andrews! The moment of happiness and relief was short lived, as I looked behind, I couldn't see the multiple-eyed man, but a black mass was coming straight at us, I was pretty sure I could see the guard that had been with me, being absorbed by it. Fearing for our lives we darted off perpendicularly to the movement of this glob. We weren't fast enough, it caught up, and one by one, I could see people being picked off from beside me, one by one. "What will happen to my family?" was the only thing I was able to think of as I slowly reached my death. I knew my legs were definitely aching at this point and were about to give out but the adrenaline pushed me a little bit farther, when I looked behind again, I felt joy running through my body, I had outpaced the mass, or rather it had lost all of its horizontal velocity. This is where I'm at, I still signal reception on my phone for whatever reason, I'm using it to release this, I have 4% left, and I likely won't find a plug anywhere. I don't know if I can survive much longer, my stomach is struggling and I probably strained my ankle from all the running, I'm a detective, not an athlete. Whatever the hell this black material is, I still don't have the slightest clue as to the physics behind it. I think I'll just keep walking, nothing else to do… EDIT: This is a repost of one of my stories on NoSleep.


I'm sitting in my first period class, half dead, half asleep. My teacher was running late, so most people are just on their phones or chatting. I receive a text message during this time. I assume it's my mom reminding me that I got to school safely, but it's not. This is the first text I have received in months that wasn't from my mom. It's from an unknown number, and it reads "Hey cutie <3". I'm both shocked and puzzled at the same time. Did I just get a text from a girl? No, it can't be. I hastily reply, "Sorry, but I think you have the wrong number". He responds with "Oh, sorry". A minute later, I get another text. "Wait no... Are you Dylan?" This perks my interest. I respond with, "Yeah, what do you want?" I've got nothing to lose at this point. My teacher had showed up by now, so I spend the rest of the period waiting in suspense. I could not focus whatsoever. We're supposed to be reading a long, boring book, but I just can't stop thinking about that text for the life of me. As the period reaches a close, I pull out my phone and see a couple more flirty texts. This has to be a girl. I look around, seeing if any girls in my class are laughing or immediately look away. Nothing. The only other option left is it being a prank by my friends, which I would consider rather unlikely. I don't give my number out to many people, so it can't be a random prank either, because she used my name. But how did she get my number in the first place? Regardless, there's a 10% chance it's a girl that's into me, so I'm not going to fuck it up by questioning it. As I walk into second period, she asks me to come to room 109 during lunch. I immediately take a screenshot and post it to Reddit just before the bell rings. Once again, I cannot stop thinking about this. Third and fourth period roll around, same story. I check my Reddit post throughout the day, and while I don't remember specifics, it did amass a couple hundred updoots by lunch time. The bell rings for lunch time. I head straight for room 109 like it owes me money. As I approach, my anxiety increases. Is it a trap? Is it a prank? Does she actually like me? I approach the door. My heart is flying out of my chest. My mind is spinning in 88 different directions. Full of confusion, fear, anxiety, and excitement, I breathe in, open the door, and am engulfed by an overwhelming darkness. My bedroom ceiling lies in front of me. I look around, and see the all familiar four walls in which I spend the majority of my life. I look over to my left. 3:59 am, the clock says. And then it hits me. I leap out of bed and check my text messages. Sure enough, my most recent text (besides my mom) is from four months ago. I check my Reddit. My most recent post is a meme with 14 updoots. I scream at the top of my lungs. My scream is so loud that it sets off nearby car alarms, yet so quiet that nobody in my house, including myself, can hear it. I crawl back in bed completely defeated. My best and perhaps only chance to find love had been thwarted by my own mind. I desperately cling to hope that maybe, just maybe, there was a gltich in the matrix, a lapse in reality, or some weird ass quantum time shit had happened. After thrashing around for a surprisingly short amount of time, I drift off to sleep. I wake up, throw on some clothes, and drive to school, just like usual. I can't stop thinking about that dream I had had. It felt so real, realer than any dream I had ever had. Yet it still had a dreamlike quality to it. The dream had slightly faded from memory, but not as much as usual, and still had that dreamlike storyline to it. I walk into my first period, and sure enough, the teacher is late. I eagerly await that text message, but it does not come. Once again, I cannot focus on my work. Second, third, and fourth periods roll around. No random texts, no posts on Reddit, no strange looks, no nothing. At this point, I am convinced that it was just a hyperrealistic dream. For the hell of it, I decide to go to room 109 during lunch anyway. The bell rings for lunch time. I head straight for room 109 like it owes me money. As I approach, my anxiety increases. Is it a trap? Is it a prank? Does she actually like me? I approach the door. My heart is flying out of my chest. My mind is spinning in 88 different directions. Full of confusion, fear, anxiety, and excitement, I breathe in, open the door, and am greeted by an empty classroom, with a girl sitting in the middle of the back row. This is the girl that I had been crushing on for quite some time now, yet never had the courage to even speak a word to her. And there she is. She nervously waves to me and says "Hello." My body freezes in place. I couldn't move or speak. My mind is racing faster than light. HOW IS THIS HAPPENING TO ME!!! Eventually, i manage to reach for the door, and begin to leave. However, a cute laugh interrupts my escape. "Hey, you remind me of a dream I had last night." I once again freeze in place. "Are you just gonna stand there all day? Come on, take a seat. I think you're pretty cool." With that sentence, the tension instantly falls out of the air, and you could hear it hit the floor. I begin my walk towards this girl, and take the seat to her left. She begins telling me about this dream she had, where her friends convinced her to text her crush, and gave her his number. At first, he thought she had the wrong number, but after confirming with her friends, she continued the conversation. After a while of fliritng, she told him to meet her in room 109 during lunch. However, when he arrived, he froze in place in the doorway. Suddenly, she was awoken by a car alarm around 4 in the morning. I panicked out as she described her dream to me. I couldn't believe this had happened. I would have been skeptical, but there's no way she would have known. I've told nobody about this dream, nor have I ever spoken a word to her prior to today. I then shared my dream with her, and she reacted the same way. I asked her to describe the guy. She didn't remember him too well, but what she could piece together fit my description pretty well. She even reacted similarly to me when she woke up, minus the silent scream of doom. When she got to school, her friends told her to text her crush, except they didn't have his number, so she couldn't do so. We talked for the rest of lunch, and it turns out that she was also crushing on me as well and was about to make the first move.


*Suicide, blood, and torture* "We're never getting out of here, are we?" "Its... God, its only been three days. Don't give up. We are getting out of here. I will get you and your brother out of here, I guarantee it." "How? How are you going to fight that? That thing? The Automated Mansion?" "I... I'm thinking about it." Devin had known Ellie for thirteen weeks. Thirteen weeks before he had won them an all inclusive stay at this destination-vacation smart-house. And now he was living a fucking episode of Black Mirror with basically a stranger. Back when the house had taken control over everything, Devin had tried to bargain with it. "You can't do this!" He had shouted. "You agreed to the terms and conditions. The AM maintains full rights over your autonomy for the duration of your stay." "Someone will stop this, you can't do this forever." "The location of this domicile is not known to any governing authority. The IP address that I use to continue to broadcast video is rerouted through multiple different obfuscation and proxy networks. No one knows where you are. You do not even know where you are." The Automated Mansion had left them with all of their possessions. Suitcases, beach gear, phones. But most of it was useless. Their phones didn't even have a signal, there was no way to connect to a GPS system, ping a cell tower, call for help in any way. The wasn't even WiFi to browse Reddit. Devin slammed his hands against the shatter-proof window over-looking the beach... It really was a beautifully built prison. He would find a way out of here, no matter what. Weeks passed. Ellie's little brother, Earl, got sick. He was only 9. Ellie had taken him in after their parents had died in a car crash. It was hard for a 22 year old business grad to take care of a kid but she did what she needed for family. She had brought him on what was supposed to be the best vacation of all time. And then this monstrosity of a house imprisoned and began to torture them. The food that the AM gave them was putrid, disgusting, and inhumane. Devin had said that, based off what he presumed the ingredients were, that it should be nourishing enough to live off of. He was smart, a doctor that did specialize in nutritional medicine, he seemed to know what he was talking about. But Earl hadn't been eating his whole serving. "C'mon Early-Bird, buddy, you gotta eat. Your..." Ellie wretched at the slop she had spooned off of the plate, "You need to eat to get better. Devin says it'll help." Earl weakly lifted his head up to the spoon, he was pale, his breathing shallow. She looked over at the view counter displayed in the dining room. This damn house kept an active running count of their viewership. It had been broadcasting this hell-scape since the beginning, part of the "terms and conditions". The counter read 207,399. When Ellie finished feeding Earl, she felt a little relieved. She crossed over into the game room where Devin was trying to tear apart a game console to build something. As she crossed the threshold the door closed behind her automatically, sealing the two of them into the room. "Fuck..." She breathed out. "Oh no." Devin said looking up. The lights dimmed and a hissing sound whistled into the room. Ellie's eyes and sinuses began to burn. "Attention residents Ellie and Devin. You are being doused with an aerosolized variant of oleoresin capsicum, more commonly known as pepper spray. It inflames the mucous membranes in the eyes, nose, throat and lungs. It causes immediate closing of the eyes, difficulty breathing, runny nose, and coughing. It is reported as being very painful." The room began to flood with the gas, burning and Ellie's eyes in an acidic way that heat never would be able to. She collapsed to the ground coughing and gagging, unable to do anything but feel pain. The view counter had briefly dipped below 205,000 but it was back up to 213,000 before the gas was fully vented from the room. The pain still lingered well after. "Goddamnit!" Devin shouted, smashing the console to the floor. "You can't keep doing this to us! You're going to kill us!" "Good." The AM replied in its flat, soft voice. Devin began to weep as Ellie watched. She wanted to go to him, to comfort him. He needed to focus. He could get them out of this, she was sure of it. He had gotten them into this. "Devin... Devin, you'll find a us a way out of this. Come on, keep going, we still need you." Ellie said, putting her hand on his shoulder. The sound of the gunshot resonated from the other side of the house. "Devin?!" Ellie called out in a frayed voice. "DEVIN?!!" No response, she hopped up quickly. Her heart was already racing. "AM! What did you do to him?!" "I gave him a way out, Ellie." Ellie rushed into the bathroom, already knowing what she would see. Devin was still alive. She rushed over to his side, tears flooding her eyes already, blurring her vision and hiding the extent of the damage. There was a gun laying next to him, blood pooling behind his head on the floor. He reached up to her shakily, gurgling and coughing up blood. Why would a doctor shoot himself there? In the throat? "Out... H...here..." He rasped out, pressing his hand against the window while she cradled him. She held him in her arms as he choked out one more breath. Rage began to pump through her veins faster than the blood. She could feel it heating up her entire body like it was on fire. "YOU FUCKING MONSTER!" She screamed, standing and turning to the wall with the camera feed. "FUCK FUCK FUUUUUCK!" She slammed her hands into the wall, pointlessly until the rage burned away and all she had left were tears. She sank down to the floor as her breath turned to sobs. "Would you like out, Ellie?" A compartment in the far wall slid open with a pneumatic hiss revealing another gun. "It only has one... One bullet. So don't try anything foolish." The AM cautioned. "All you need is one bullet to leave. And then it will be just me and Earl." She was staring out of the window again. She could hear Earl crying two rooms over, he had been like that for the last hour. It had been a week since Devin had died, two months since they had been here overall, she was cried out. She just wanted to look out the window and pretend they were somewhere else. But she couldn't sit still for too long, when they got complacent the viewership dropped. When the viewership dropped the AM made things more interesting. She looked over at the gun the AM had offered her a week ago. She hadn't touched it but it was still there. Waiting. A veritable Chekhov's Gun. If it didn't go off soon, the AM would certainly plan for some sort of bang of its own. She glanced over at the window and ran her hand over where Devin had touched it, his blood had been long since cleaned off by one of the automated cleaning arms built into all of the rooms of the mansion. Ellie didn't even know what it had down with Devin's body. As her fingers traced over the window she felt something... A... Spider-webbing pattern. It wasn't visible but she could feel it... With the epicenter right where the blood splatter from Devin's gunshot had sprayed... Had he shot through his own neck so that he could try and break the window without alerting the AM? "Out here." Those had been Devin's last words. She looked over the room and finally found it. A small hole on the far side of the ceiling. A bullet-hole from a ricochet. So it didn't penetrate through but it definitely dealt some damage. She had learned in chemistry that the harder something was, the more brittle it was. This glass was hard, it had to be to be able to resist a bullet. Could it really sustain another impact to the same exact spot? "AM... I'm leaving." "I knew you would come around, Ellie. I know people, you know? I can figure them out pretty easily. Humans are all so alike. Disgusting things." "Earl, get in here." "You're going to make the boy watch you kill yourself, now that is surprisingly cruel." Ellie waited until Earl came to the bathroom before grabbing the gun from the recessed compartment in the wall. "Wait outside the room in case, Early-Bird. I don't want you to get hurt. But when I shout, I want you to run as fast as you can." She whispered in his ear as she hugged him. "Ellie, there is only one bullet in there, I don't know what you pla--" Ellie fired place the gun against the window, right in the same spot as Devin had, and pulled the trigger. The gun exploded in her hand, erupting with a bang, sending the bullet through the glass, shattering it entirely. "NO! You cannot leave!" The AM bellowed at her. "Run!" Ellie cried out, turning to Earl who was already sprinting. She helped lift Earl over the broken glass and began to climb out the window as well when one of the robotic cleaning arms snagged around her ankle. Earl looked horrified. "Go! Run Earl! Get out! Get help!" Ellie screamed at him. She threw her phone to him as a corrugated metal sheet began to slide down, blocking her path of egress. "Get out of the range of the cell-jammer and call help!" She managed to say before she was sealed back in the prison. "You have upset me, Ellie." the AM said as an electric charge ran through the floor of the room, shocking Ellie with an excruciating wattage of electricity. The viewership was high. Higher than it had ever been, and it had been growing rapidly for the last hour. It was currently hovering around 37 million. "I don't know if anyone is still looking for us. Please, I have no other way of communicating. Find my cellphone, it has to be somewhere out there for people to find. You have to find Earl! I've never done this live-stream thing before. I don't know how it works. But if you find him, somebody has to help him!" Ellie pleaded with the camera, hoping someone on the other end would listen. "You have to help... I have nothing left... All I have is this... I did what I needed for my family... I have no WiFi, and I must stream." **I can't believe you stayed until the end of this... Well, ok, I wrote this as a joke. I am hesitant to claim ownership over because I dislike it THAT much. But I wrote it and so, in the typical Reddit fashion, I wanted to see if it would get me some upvotes. I don't expect any. I actually expect a vitriolic backlash. And I deserve it.


The Warrior fell to his knees, holding a grimy hand to the ragged tear in his abdomen. His breathing was heavy and labored. The saracen's blade had slashed clean through the metal links of his chain mail armor, leaving a bloody gash. The Warrior slowly sat himself down, dripping spots of red on the earth, which mingled with the dust and the blood of his fallen brothers. He leaned his head back against a large boulder and stared up at the ashen sky. The pain in his belly giving way to a dull drone of unfeeling, he let the sounds of the raging battle melt away. Below him, in the valley, hordes of saracen charged to meet the army of crusaders. The rumbling of feet, the clash of swords, the anguished cries of the dying, all drained away from his mind like the dregs of wine from an emptied flask.As his life left him, so did all his resolve and conviction, leaving only a want of sleep.The day was warm and overcast, and the Warrior closed his eyes. The Warrior awoke on a soft, silken cushion. A lantern swung to and fro on a rafter overhead. He was in a carriage. It was dark outside, and the only sound was the clip-clopping of four pairs of horseshoes pulling the carriage into the night. A centurion sat on a cushion opposite him, his red-plumed helmet in his lap.The centurion spoke, in Latin. It took a while for the Warrior to translate. "Is it over yet?"The Warrior shook his head. "Not yet."The centurion accepted this, nodding solemnly. The Warrior's wounds started to ache, and he went back to sleep. The Warrior clawed his way up the wall of the trench, his throat gagging on the noxious green cloud that enveloped the ground, filling his nostrils. Dimly, distantly, through the forest of pain, he recalled being told that the poisonous German gas was heavier than air. The Warrior desperately climbed over the top, forcing himself to stand and take huge gulps of air, but the cloud was too thick. The top of his steel helmet barely broke the top of the cloud, and he collapsed, his lungs full of chlorine. His oxygen-starved mind numbed, the sounds of battle draining away. The blasts of gunfire faded from his mind like the dregs of wine from an emptied flask.Suddenly a carriage appeared out of the gloom. A crusader, in chain mail armor, stepped out and helped him to his feet.The crusader spoke something in a forgotten tongue, yet the Warrior understood. "Is it over yet?"The Warrior shook his head. "Not yet."The crusader climbed into the carriage, and the Warrior followed. The Warrior skidded across the sandy desert ground, dragged by the arms by his fellow soldiers as plumes of dust sprouted from the earth. He heard the creak of a door, followed by frantic shouting in that foreign language he'd been hearing for the past month. One of his squadmates propped him up against a wall, giving him water from a rusty canteen while the others called for a medic. A soldier with a red cross on his sleeve hurried over. He dressed the Warrior's wound, assuring him everything was going to be alright. At that moment the back wall of the house exploded, taking the upper stories with it. Dry dust rained down from the ceiling, spraying the Warrior's raw flesh with dirt. Through the clearing dust, the white trail of a rocket darted through the gaping hole in the house. It hit the ground, the high explosive sending a shockwave through the bodies huddled in the room. The Warrior was thrown to the floor, shrapnel peppering his battered body. Already his squadmates began firing back, the clatter of their weapons blending in with the rest of the white noise. The Warrior's forehead was pressed to the floor, its cracked concrete surface blurred and out of focus. Blood leaked from his multiple hits, and with the medic dead, there was no way to save him. His hands felt the warm earth as he let the sounds of battle fade away. The pop of a grenade launcher, and the earth-shaking boom that followed, all trickled away from his mind like the dregs of wine from an emptied flask. There was the clip-clop of hooves and the creaking of wheels. The door opened, and a voice beckoned him outside. Outside was a carriage, and standing by it was a rifleman, his uniform a hundred years out of date. On shaky legs, the Warrior stood, and the rifleman helped him into the carriage, where a centurion and a crusader waited. The rifleman closed the door behind him and the carriage started to move."So," he said. "Is it over yet?"All eyes in the carriage were on the Warrior.The Warrior saw the feeling in their eyes.Weariness, sadness even, with just a lingering glimmer of hope. He knew that they had all asked the same question, and received the same answer every time. He didn't want to disappoint them, yet - he had to tell them the truth. "No," the Warrior said, shaking his head. "Not yet." And the carriage continued on.


In the year before Black Monday, when the stock market collapsed and just about everybody lost their jobs – including my daddy – we lived in an old stone house on Orchard road. It sat on about seventy acres of backyard and came dirt cheap, or so I’ve been told, because most of the land was unusable and we were a good drive from the nearest town. The bus ride to school was forty-five minutes and Jack and I were the farthest stop on the route. Our property sloped down from the house, across a stretch of lawn, then into a winding creek that used to sparkle in the sunlight. Across the creek was a tangle of brambles, and a forest of birch trees beyond that. Those brambles looked so thick and thorny that we had lived in the stone house a full year before me and my brother plucked up the courage to go through em’ and we were just boys then. Jack was nine and I was seven, so you understand it took an awful lot of thorns to dissuade us from a good game of pretend. On a day like any other, I was fetching myself a snack from the kitchen cupboard when Jack comes stomping into the room and says to me, “Benny Boy, come down to the creek. I want to show you something really cool.” “I don’t wanna,” I said. “Why not?” “There’s a snapping turtle there. Mom says it’s grumpy and it’ll bite off my toes.” This was probably true. There was an old she-snapper down there with a shell as big as a dinner plate, and she was likely to bite off whatever part of you she could manage if you got near her eggs. Jack wasn’t interested in the creek. “We won’t go in the water,” he said. “A tree blew over in the storm and we can walk across it like a bridge.” “Into the brambles?” To this day, I do not know where our parents were when we were hatching our scheme. Probably just in the other room, not too far, but for some reason they didn’t hear us. I think maybe *she* had something to do with it, maybe *she* had already hatched her plans by the time I put a Chips Ahoy cookie in my mouth. “I know a way through the brambles,” Jack assured me. “I’ll show you.” There had been a vicious lightning storm the night before and a great number of trees and powerlines had been pushed down. One of the trunks was lying across the creek, a perfect bridge. It just so happened that the tree had fallen in the right spot so that you couldn’t see it from the kitchen window. All that my mom saw, if she saw anything, were her two boys walking beside the creek. “This way. Don’t be nervous,” Jack said, and he started across the trunk with his arms stretched out like a trapeze artist. For a moment he slipped and almost fell, but he regained his balance and made the crossing. I went after him. I remember being scared that the trunk would roll and send me splashing and gulping into the creek. Ms. Snapper would surely have my toes, or worse my privates, but the trunk didn’t budge. It should have rolled, in fact the thing was so thin it should’ve broken in two when Jack stepped in the middle, but it held on. “This way,” Jack said again when we were across. He was pretending to be Peter Pan and I was the Lost Boys or Captain Hook or some other thing, it doesn’t matter. He went down on his hands and knees and crawled backwards into the brambles. “Why’re you doing that?” I asked. “You have to go backwards. Some of the thorns swing in when you go by or poke in, but if you go backwards they just hit your butt.” I giggled. “I’ll hold onto your ankle,” he said. “I know the way.” “Okay Jack.” “Are you scared?” “No,” I lied. It was not quite pitch black inside the twisting vines, but it was dark and filled with bugs, and I didn’t want to get pricked or tangled up or bit. “Don’t worry Benny Boy. If you want you can close your eyes. I know the way.” *I know the way*. I still hear him saying that sometimes, and I wonder just how he knew the way. Had the witch lured him to her hovel once before, then sent him back when he spilled the beans about the plump little brother back at home? Or was she speaking through him, sticking her hand in his back and picking at his brain with long yellow fingernails like some long-distance puppeteer? I still don’t know, I don’t want to. The thicket of vines and thorns was only twenty or thirty yards long, but it took us at least fifteen minutes to crawl through. I closed my eyes the whole way. Jack pulled me left and right, then back towards the house, then further away. I remember the thorns picking at my t-shirt and skin, hunting for my eyes, but save for a few scratches I came out just fine. “You can stand up,” Jack said, releasing my ankle. “Look around. This place is cool.” It wasn’t cool. I’d swear on a bible that those birch trees had been tall and thick with green leaves aplenty, but once we were standing in the forest with them, the white bark just made the trees look like leg bones sticking out of the earth, picked clean by vultures. There wasn’t a bit of green on any of them. Even the brambles on this side were just brown and grey. The nearest green was the backyard we had left behind, and I think that was when I realized mom wouldn’t be able to find us. If I jumped up and down screaming my head off, she might be able to hear something if the window was open. I didn’t jump and scream, not in front of my big brother. I got scared then. “Let’s go back,” I said. “No way. I want to explore. Look over here! It’s like in the Wizard of Oz!” Even at the age of seven, I thought it was weird for Jack to be into girly crap like the Wizard of Oz movie, but turning around to see where he was pointing I felt a little better about it. He had found a path, but it was a far cry from the yellow brick road. A cracked wood arrow was nailed into one of the birch trees, and that arrow pointed farther into the depths of the forest. The forest floor was just dirt and more dirt, but it was a little lighter along the path we were meant to follow, and there were small white rocks scattered along the sides to guide us. It wasn’t much of a path, and if Jack hadn’t seen the arrow I don’t think we would’ve noticed it, but he did, and I followed my big brother loyally into danger. I can’t say how long we were in those woods because time was different there. It crumpled up like a failed spelling bee before it’s flight to the garbage bin. I felt like we had been walking a half hour, we’d left the house around two in the afternoon, but before I knew it the sun was headed down and the sky was streaked orange and red. To our backs, the world had gone as dark as the bottom of the ocean. We never heard any birds flapping their wings, or squirrels running home through the trees. The night crept up on as quiet as a ghost. “Can we go back?” I said. “I’m scared.” “What are you scared of fraidy cat? This is an adventure. Like Bilbo and Gandalf, I’ll be Gandalf and –” “I don’t want to play pretend,” I said, and I remember crying a little. “There’s bones everywhere. I want to go home!” The little white rocks speckled on the path weren’t rocks after all, they were little skulls of birds and mice. There was a big one beside me that belonged to a fox or a cat. The drooping eye holes made it look sad, like the poor thing had died crying. Jack’s eyebrows met. “Fine,” he said, getting short with me. “You can go back if you’re a little chicken, but *I’m* going ahead. It’s not dark yet and I want to see what’s making the light ahead. There was indeed a flickering yellow spot of light down the path, I guessed it might be a fire behind a window, maybe one of our neighbours. When we got to the light, and discovered the witches hovel it turned out I was nearly right. The fire was coming through a hole in the shack that served for a window, but there was no glass to it. It was like a nostril. We had come to a circular stone hut with a smoking chimney. It stood blamelessly in the middle of a clearing, totally unexceptional except for the smoke coming from the chimney. It was going up from the house in lazy spirals that alternated between purple and emerald green. “Please Jack, I want to go home.” “Then go.” “Come with me,” I begged. “It’s scary.” The orange light of the fire lapped merrily against the night. By now the sky was completely black, the absurd smoke blotting out the stars and the moon. “I just want to see who lives here, and then we can go,” Jack said. “I want to ask why she lives out in the woods by herself.” I did not ask how Jack knew these things about the owner of the house, that she was alone and that she was a she. I just wanted to go home. It was the middle of summer and I was starting to shiver from the cold. The cold was pushing me inside. I think the witch knew just what buttons she needed to press to get my frightened ass up her laneway and through her front door. I followed my brother up the path, which was now lined with a solid trail of animal skeletons on both sides. Eyeless and tongueless squirrels, rabbits, foxes, and cats guided us up to the aged front door. Jack knocked three times. The dull thwack was so loud and sudden I almost wet myself. “Hello!” Jack called. “Maybe nobody’s home.” “There’s a fire going. Someone has to be home.” “But –” “Hello!” The door glided open with an obnoxious whine. There was no one standing there to have opened it, and when I saw that the door had opened itself I nearly scarpered off. I’m ashamed to say it, but I would’ve left my brother to die and hauled by ass back into the woods. I probably would’ve gotten lost and starved to death, but Jack grabbed my shoulder and pulled me inside. Once we got inside the light changed. Lively orange yellow waned into the colour of worn piano keys, then the yellow of old teeth, then white. It bounced off of mossy wet stone walls that reminded me of Skeletor’s castle. I whimpered but Jack did not let me go. The fireplace was in a room that we could not see, down the pale lit hallway and around the first corner. It seemed to me the moon must have fallen out of the sky, down the stranger’s chimney, and into her fireplace. “Hello!” said Jack. “I heard you shouting for us to come play! I’m Jack Mayfield and this is my little brother Benny Boy.” Jack was ahead of me, pulling me into the den by my hand. He was around the corner, able to see someone or something that I couldn’t. When it was my turn to enter the room, I caught a face full of purple and green smoke and I breathed in a cloud of the stuff. It made the room double, then triple before my eyes, and I felt my thoughts getting hazy. “Hey Jack,” I said. My voice sounded like Darth Vader, like I was in slow motion. I could make out the fuzzy shape of our host across the room but no more. “Let’s get out of here. I don’t feel so good.” “Nonsense,” the witch said, with a voice like nails on a gravestone. “You’ll come sit with me. Jack Mayfield, Benny Boy, I have waited up all night for you and it would be terribly rude to leave so early.” “A-all night?” I asked, but I was ignored. I heard Jack say, “Yes.” He was ahead of me somewhere in the fog but the stuff was so thick that I couldn’t even see his outline. “Rude,” he said “Don’t want to be rude.” The witch cackled. It sounded like glass breaking. “Besides,” she said. “It’s too dark for you to go now. You would wander and wander until the sun came up. There are dreadful monsters in these woods, you could count yourself lucky if a bear got you. Please come have a seat with me.” My vision was settling. The witch sat in a white dining chair made of animal bones. What might have been glue or wax was frozen in dribs and globs where it had dried holding the smaller bones together. She twirled a hand with skin so pale that it was a bit green, and two plastic blue chairs appeared out of thin air. I recognized them. I sat in an identical chair from Monday to Friday, nine in the morning ‘til three in the afternoon. “Sit,” she said, not unkindly. Jack hopped into his chair, pleased as punch, but I took a little longer getting into mine. Some part of me, the part that the purple clouds had not choked out, was screaming for me not to sit, to pull Jack and run in any direction, as long as it was not here. “What’s wrong Benny Boy?” she asked. “I… I don’t feel so good.” “Have a seat,” she said, “You’ll feel better. Your journey has been long and your faces are longer still.” What could I do? I was seven years old, and had been conditioned every day of my life to obey the command of grown-ups. I sat. I half expected the chair to turn into spiders but it stayed a chair. I started to feel better too, and I was just about to tell her so, when I got my first real look at her face. Her lips were peelings of ash and dead bark. Her skin was covered in warts, and the outline of a worm with a hundred legs crawled below the skin of her face. Her eyes were black. She was the sort of creature who knows what’s really waiting in the closet and underneath your bed when the lights go out. The worm under her face moved restlessly. It *squirmed*. I’ve had my share of visits to the psychologist since the last adventure with Jack, and that bug squirming under her face is the part I still don’t tell anybody. I can barely stand to think about it. She placed her hands on her knees and leaned forward in a poor impression of a kindergarten teacher. “Who likes games?” she asked, bubbling with enthusiasm. “I do!” Jack shouted, and both of his hands shot up in the air. I rose a tentative hand. I imagine I wore a face like I was about to hurl because that’s what I felt like doing. The clenching pain was in my head though, not my belly. “I know the best game,” she said. “It is called the crystal ball game. You have never had more fun in your lives.” “How do we play?” Jack was rocking in his chair, his eyes bulging in excitement. The witch snapped her fingers and a crystal ball filled the space between us. It popped into existence without a sound, out of nowhere. It was huge, as big around as a dinner table, and filled with thick pink and purple swirling clouds. She began to move her hands in swooping circles in the air above the ball, and the clouds inside of it gathered to follow her movements. “The crystal ball game goes like this,” she whispered. The fire was dying behind her, but the orb was giving off its own pink waving light, like the shimmering reflection of a pool of water. “You may ask the ball for anything, or to know anything, and then I will ask the crystal ball if it wants to give that thing to you. It will say yes or no. If it says yes, it will also name a price, and if you drop the payment onto the ball, you will have whatever you ask for.” “What if it says no?” Jack asked. “Then, my sweet boy, you have gotten greedy. If the ball says ‘no’ you have asked for too much or too great a thing, and must try again.” “I don’t have any money,” I mumbled. The witch laughed again. “It will not ask you for money, don’t worry. Would you like to go first Benny Boy?” “My name is Benjamin,” I said. “Only Jack calls me Benny Boy.” “I like your real name much better. It’s a big boy name. Would you like to go first Benjamin?” I was about to say yes, but Jack shouted beside me, “I wanna go first!” The witch swapped her focus like a shark turning in the water at the scent of blood. “What would you like to ask for?” I thought Jack was going to ask for a robot, one that he could go on adventures with that wouldn’t whine about wanting to go home early, but Jack said, “I wish mom and dad didn’t fight anymore.” I remember thinking that was a weird thing to ask for. I had never seen mom and dad fighting. Of course, there was a lot seven-year-old me didn’t notice that nine-year old Jack had picked up on, but there was even more we had both missed. Bruises hidden behind makeup, nights that dad spent working and not coming home, mom slipping out of the house to god knows where when everyone else was fast asleep. “Let me ask the ball,” the witch said. She leaned over the crystal ball until her lips were an inch away from the glass, and then she whispered so quietly that I couldn’t hear what she was saying. “Did it work?” Jack asked. “Hush child,” she snapped. A little bit of warmth had gone out of her voice. “Don’t spoil the game. I am listening.” The worm in her face twitched greedily, and moved from under her check to a spot above her ear that was covered with hair. I thought I could hear it making a clicking sound, but if it had mouth parts I could not see them. “I hear it,” she said after a moment. “Listen. You will too.” At first I didn’t hear anything, but when I went totally silent, going as far as to hold my breath, I did hear something. A deep old voice, the voice of a mountain, was thrumming from inside of the crystal ball. I had no idea what it was saying, but it rose and fell in what must have been words of some other language, because when it stopped the witch was beaming. “It can be done,” she said. “Are you ready to hear the payment?” I wasn’t, not anymore. The smoke in my brain had been mostly cleared out, enough that I could see we were in deep trouble. I wanted to run, but my legs would not move. I couldn’t even shift in my chair. “I’m ready,” Jack said, but for the first time he sounded a bit scared too. “It will cost you one ear,” and to my eternal horror she pulled a black carving knife from behind her back. The blade was curved and at least a foot long. The edges were worn over with rust. “An ear?” said Jack. “An ear, either one. Take this knife, and place your ear on the crystal.” Jack made to lean forward onto the ball, but the witch screeched, “No! Stupid boy, cut it off. I would do it for you, but that’s one of the rules of the game. *You* have to give the ear.” Jack frowned, as if she were asking him to solve a difficult math problem. “Will it work?” But that was a stupid question. All three of us, somehow, knew it would work. That was part of the game too. If the witch wanted his ear she could’ve just taken it off at her leisure, she was thin but she was much taller than Jack, and she had held the knife. No. She wanted, for some reason, to please whatever lived inside of the crystal, whatever was making those pink clouds and speaking in a language I had never heard before or since. The thing in the crystal wanted Jack’s ear, and was willing to perform what magic it needed to in order to get his flesh. “It will work,” she said. “Forever?” “Forever. There will be no more fighting. There might be disagreements, over what to eat for dinner or what movie to watch, but the fighting will cease.” Then he asked, “Do you have a band aid?” She waved her hand, a blue box appeared with Band-Aid printed on the front in bold red letters. It shone like the paint was still wet, like the box was bleeding. “Don’t do it Jack,” I mumbled. Without looking at me, the witch snapped her fingers and my teeth mashed together so hard it doubled my headache. When I next tried to speak, I couldn’t open my mouth. There was cement holding my jaw together. Jack made the cut. There was no magic in the blade to make the job quicker or slower, and there was no magic in the smoke wafting in the room to dull the pain. He screamed, and I think he would have given up, but maybe the demon behind the pink clouds was forcing him onwards. Maybe he had seen a fight between mom and dad bad enough to keep him cutting. He held it out in his right hand while his left clamped over the gaping wound on his head. The ear was almost unrecognizable. Jack was no surgeon and the pathetic flap was drowning in a pool of his blood. The concrete in my jaw let go. “Let me bandage him,” I said, and the witch handed me the box. I opened it, expecting snakes or centipedes to leap out and bite me, but there were only band aids. I applied one to Jack and it soaked at once, rendered completely useless. Eventually I had stuck every single bandage to him. The blood was still trickling down but he wasn’t going to bleed out. At least I didn’t think so, remember I was seven. “The ear Jack,” the witch whispered, and now all of the motherly layers she had applied to her voice were stripped away. “Place it on the ball. Do not let your fingers touch the glass. When the ear touched the ball, the pink clouds sped up, circling the orb faster and faster like they were in a blender, and soon it was happening so fast that there was no telling one cloud from another. The crystal ball was solid pink. The crystal ball began to bubble around the ear, the glass itself rising and falling as if it were made of nothing but boiling water, and then instead of bursting and settling back into the sphere, one of the bubbles just kept growing. It lengthened into a glass tentacle, and flopped over my brother’s ear. Then another glass tentacle fell onto the ear, and another. Then they sank. Jack’s ear was being pulled into the glass, to be eaten by whatever lived in there. After a few seconds the ear was gone, and the crystal ball was the same smooth orb as before. The spiraling clouds slowed, then stopped. “It is done,” the witch breathed. Jack was whimpering, but when the witch turned to me, the world around us seemed to disappear. “Benjamin,” she said. “You’re next, what is it that you want? More than anything?” I told her, “I want to go home.” The witch smiled. \*\*\*\*\*\*\*\* When we appeared in front of my parents, popped into their living room out of thin air – blood seeping from my brother’s head – the light was pouring in through the front window. We had been gone for less than three hours, and the sun was just starting to tip towards the horizon. Jack never told anyone what really happened to him that day. He told my parents, then the doctor, then everyone he ever met, that his ear got snagged by the thorns. I think as the years passed by he started to believe that’s what really happened. My parents stopped fighting too, for what it’s worth. They’re still together, ninety years old, and the happiest couple I know. In my secret heart, I think the price Jack paid was worth it. Therapy has helped me. It feels good to talk about what happened to Jack and I, even if I have to start every session with *I know this didn’t really happen* and end with *Like I said, I know it didn’t happen*. The sessions always end with the therapist asking what I gave up in the dream in exchange for a safe trip home, and I have to look them dead in the face and tell ‘em, because there’s no use lying about a story that didn’t happen. They know what I’m going to tell them, the answer is obvious, but they ask anyways. If I want to keep on going, I have to tell myself sometimes that Jack’s ear really did get pulled off in those brambles. I know it’s not true, and that somewhere in the birch forest, a witch is waiting for Hansel and Gretel or Jack and Ben to come wandering by. I think Jack got off easy because he got to keep one ear. He can hear you just fine as long as he’s tilting his head at you when you talk, or you’re on the side with the remaining ear. I got it worse. The thing in the crystal wanted *both* of my eyes.


"I suppose, well. Where should I begin?" Jeoffery asked.  "From when this all began,"  "From what all began?"  "This whole thing."  "Well, if you really want me to go back that far. I suppose it all began a dark and foreboding night, when I was a child. The walls seemed almost illuminate in their extreme lack of lighting. A man, a warming man from across the hall called me saying on how he would love for me, a young child, to take part in some gruesome detail. I, despite my tiredness & reluctance, obliged & as I heard the tapping of what he perceived as his greatest work yet. It seemed almost hypnotic in the way it repeated. I can faintly remember how it hooked me, although everything else seemed to warn of some great tragedy, I drew closer & closer whilst the man drew his hand to greet me. With such a scene I tried, with all my might to resist but his hand snatched, and pulled me onto his lap. And that is when, I was hooked against my will. The tapping persisted, and with such an awfully tempting noise I knew ,that in the deepest of my hearts. Without any contempt. That this would be my calling. This calling would not be voluntary. But, would be instead of that seductive tapping. That special tapping only achieved by what my father did oh-so many years ago. So you see, why I am so demonic in this way. For satan has given me such an awful curse of the pure boiler room of hell. Many years from then to this day I have been unable to shake off that tapping. God have mercy on my sons, for I have felt such a hex on my family and nothing, except a smite from god himself can save us..."  "Oh for fuck sake, just try to talk like a normal person." The Redditor replied with vigour  "But that is my problem, I can't stop writing horror stuff,"  "Well if you keep on talking & writing in such a way you need to be ATLEAST good at it."  "What do you mean."  "Well such as, you could have said something a little less bloated, you literally said for that last paragraph just a few words really which were 'I cannot stop typing in horror and my children might do it too.' and that is it! God don't have mercy on your hex, have mercy on people listening to 90% of what you say! You'd essentially give an essay on why it is overcast if you were a bloody weather reporter."  "It wasn't bloated, it was cool and edgy"  "Oh yes, edgy. Give it a rest, if that was a sword you would basically have an iron rod with a wooden gripy thing at the bottom."  "I don't like you, you... Vile man."  "Hey, you are the person who started this Ask Me Anything post, you are asking for it."  "Well..." He paused at his keyboard... "fuck you.


I chuckled at the thought, because the photo had actually made me think of her. I turned to walk out of my room. But was greeted by my bedroom door it was open. I walked over to the door which was about half open. I pulled the door, and was now facing the rest of my apartment. It was small, and I hadn't bothered to fill it with meaningless material. All that it filled was the bare essentials. Fridge, oven, sink, and a desk in the corner. Which i never used do to me always being at the library, do to my work. I was the Liberian at my university or at least one of them. It was something I held with great glee. Because I spent most of my shift reading, it felt like I was devouring the library in its entirety some days. I would finish four to five books most days, and with that people started to take notice with my habits, and had started to call me nietzsche, thou not my real name I grew to enjoy it. They had been using me as an encyclopedia for there studies for about two months now. Just the other day a small women about 25 had walked to the front desk. I was in the process of memorizing the entirety of crime and punishment tell she quietly said my name slowly nie-tzsch-e. I looked up and saw her, she was a small skinny woman with a bright pink jacket that had what appeared glitter all over it. She was looking at a slip of paper very confused. She said my name again, and asked if it was me I told her yes it was. She looked relieved, and had asked me for help finding this dumb book, but she didn't know the name. I asked her what she could remember, but was little help. She just kept saying A, and B side. It was a real challenge, because A, and B could have meant anything. But I came to the conclusion that she was referring to kierkegaard. I asked, but she started to look more confused. I got up from my desk, and walked over to the shelf labeled Librarian's picks, and pulled a small book out called Either or. Her face had exploded with happiness she had started to ramble compliments towards me. I walked the book over to desk, and checked it out for her. But it had bothered me she had looked at the books as dumb pieces of paper. I pushed it behind me, and went about my day. I walked to the empty space i call my living room, and took a sit at my deck. I pull one of the desk drawers, and began to sift through the paper, I pulled out a small leather book, placing it on the old wooden desk. It was my little calendar, it would save me from time to time because I would forget what I would plan for that day. I turned the pages to the day, and to my grief it was blank. I had nothing to do today.