Hello everybody, I hope that you're all doing well.On this week's episode, we have three more stories from the depths of the internet, and I know that you'll enjoy them.Let's get into it as we drift further into Mr. Creep's mind.
I spent six months on a research rig at Point Nemo.There's a reason it's so isolated.Written by GooglyEyes93, It's lonely out in the ocean, especially at night when the only light you have is from the stars and your own weak lights.
The darkness comes in, oppressing everything and taking over like a scourge, nothing but pure black on a cloudy night. I thought that I had seen the worst isolation that the world could offer, working at the Palmer Station in the Antarctic.
At least it wasn't as cold out here at Point Nemo, I guess.The furthest point on Earth from any land in every single direction, Point Nemo might be one of the most remote locations on Earth with a population of zero, most of the time at least.
There's a small research rig out there, not quite as big as an oil platform, but decent enough sized.I got an offer a couple of years back to go out there and do some studies on the ocean biology out there.
Since Nemo is so remote, with relatively stagnant currents, there's a surprising lack of biological life out there. Honestly, it was exciting just for the chance to say that I'd been to one of the most secluded places on Earth.
Getting to study the biome and sea life that was there, though.I was over the moon.Ecstatic was the understatement of the century. I arrived in the platform a couple of clicks away from the actual point geographically early in the morning.
Clear skies were reflecting off gentle waves in every direction.The deep blue of the ocean here was beautiful, virtually unmarred by human intervention.If anything else, I got some time to read in relative solitude while I was off-duty.
There were five of us at the station.An older guy called Flam was the lead researcher. I don't know how he got the name either.
There were two assistant researchers, Shannon, a woman in her mid-30s, and Hap, a younger man with a specialty in deep-sea biology.The last person was a mechanic, Sandy, who made sure the everyday maintenance of the rig was maintained.
And I was the happiest person in the world stepping off the chopper and meeting everyone, getting the full tour of the base including the rec room, gym, mess hall, three separate labs, and a surprisingly cozy library.
Everybody was nice enough, though Flam was a little neurotic to say the least.It's probably important to mention how this place was set up.If you've ever seen a free-floating oil rig it's a lot like that, just without the ecological destruction.
Think of it like a very large ship supported by pontoons, with some parts extending under the water with a larger building up top.
What you would call the ground floor is the mess hall, the rec room, and gym, with the labs on top and the library nestled in the center of them.
Our barracks were below sea level, extending down with the maintenance area underneath housing generators, gas, etc.It was a nice place, all things considered.A cabin in the middle of the ocean, basically. Settling in that first night was rough.
Sleeping underwater essentially was a little terrifying, kind of claustrophobic, and completely nauseating.Despite the large pontoons holding us up, the waves still rocked us, making me feel my welcome dinner warming up for an encore as I swayed.
Sandy came walking through, going to the shared bathroom between our rooms. You alright, Ellie?"she asked, looking concerned.All I could do was shake my head, making the nausea tick hold harder in the process.Oh God.
She was watching while I puked into a trash can.Hell of a way to make new friends, Ellie.
I was surprised when she walked over and grabbed my loose hair, holding it back and rubbing my back with her other hand, gently soothing me as I evacuated everything that I ate today. All good.Happens to everyone on the first day.
Please tell me it gets better.I said gasping for breath and only getting the stench of vomit back.Oh yeah, I just need to adjust.Come on up to the deck and get some air though, it helps.She led me up, walking single-filed on the narrow staircase.
I bumped my shoulders countless times, unsteadied by the surf moving us. At one point I started falling back, losing my balance and reaching out to steady myself, but only swiped to the empty wall.
Suddenly her hand darted out, grabbing my forearm and steadying me.She pulled me back to the step, making sure that I was upright before moving further, now holding onto my hand as guidance.Soon she was chuckling,
Hope you're better above deck than you are below."You and me both.I gagged again just trying to talk, my head still spinning.The fresh salt air when we had emerged from the outer door onto the wraparound platform was like opening a valve for me.
I was taking in the deepest breaths that I could, finally clearing out the vomit smell stuck in my nose. She leads me over to the platform railing, the dark night settling in around us.
I was immediately distracted from my nausea by the beauty in the sky above.There were a decent amount of clouds covering the sky, but what wasn't covered was some of the most amazing stargazing that I had ever been privy to.
Every single constellation was clearly definable beyond the clouds, with the full moon shining through, sending light in patches to reflect off the water. An infinite sea of stars in every direction.
It was beautiful, something that's only on par with seeing the northern lights in their full glory as far as I've seen.Even in the imposing dark out at Point Nemo, millions of points of light shone through.What's that?
I said, noticing movement against the water.At first, it looked like the shadow from a cloud passing over, disturbing the stars below. and then a cloud moved from in front of the moon, casting bright light down in all directions.
I could see clearly that it wasn't a shadow, but a giant, walking through the ocean step by step.From the distance, it was maybe five clicks out.Even then, I could make out its features clearly thanks to the size.
It towered larger than a skyscraper, by my best estimate.Each leg had water reaching up to around the knee.It honestly looked like it was going to break the clouds with its head, but it paid no mind as it whipped them away. Oh my god.
I was speechless.I don't know if Sandy was too, but she was staring off into the distance alongside me.If she was shocked, nothing showed on her face, but there was the faintest of smiles hiding underneath.
Your guess is as good as mine, science girl, Sandy replied.I could see clearer now that more were walking behind it, heading to the west of us in a straight path. We'll need to go downstairs before the waves reach us, though.
Sucks for this to happen on your first night."What?You've seen this before, I asked, still not tearing my eyes away.The giants were humanoid in build, just like massive versions of people. Their faces were a little more odd.
Eyes were larger than normal proportions, and there was a smile on their small mouth that looked like the head was deflating from the bottom like a balloon.
I didn't even realize that I was shouting when I started talking to her again, gesturing at the Goliaths waiting by.They're massive.How is something this big physically possible?This completely disregards every single law of physics.
I just run the machines," she shouted back.Come on, let's go inside before we get completely soaked.Oh god, now I could see what she meant.
Every step they took was sending waves our way, crashing into each other as rambling gates tried to overtake each other.
Sea foam was high in the air, and at one point while backing up to the door, I swear that I felt the water spray from overhead like a spring shower.One of them turned, looking directly at me.
I swear my heart stopped, breath catching as I caught a full view of the face.I was frozen, paralyzed that it was going to come for me now.Just pick me up and pop me in its mouth like a snack before dinner.
The deflated smile just kept on, now widening to show toothless gums.I could hear Sandy behind me yelling to come with her and that we were in danger, but I couldn't break eye contact with the giant.
Something ancient was holding me in place, frozen and waiting to be devoured, and then Sandy pulled me back, still trembling at the behemoths as they walked away to whatever strange destination would host them.
The door was barely closed, but I could still see the one who was looking at me as it turned to follow the others.Massive waves, sloshing our way as it came.Suddenly, Sandy braced her and me both against the wall, holding on.
Uh, that's forward, I said, not looking her right in the eye as my hands pressed into the narrow wall behind her.I was still trembling, elbows refusing to stay still as I pushed against the wall harder.
Not gonna lie though, she was a much better sight to be face to face with than the Giants.
Sorry about that, you'll thank me, she said, barely finishing the sentence before the entire base was hit hard, turning into a steep angle that sent me falling forward into her even more.
Another wave hit, bouncing us briefly into the air as we braced ourselves, trying to not fall down the tight staircase. We tilted back, standing upright once more though swaying heavily, now back to a calmer sea.
Best to get back to our rooms before the next patch hits.We scurried back quickly, nausea coming back to me.
I couldn't tell if it was that or the contact that we just had that was making me warm, blushing as we walked into the small hallway adjoining our rooms.I sat in my bunk, looking at her still standing in the doorway. What are those things?
I wanted a straight answer though, I don't know if she had one.Like they were giants, I get that, but what did I just see?Beats me, none of us have been able to figure it out.She shrugged, leaning against the doorway now.
You'll see a lot of weird stuff out here.Don't know if the others told you that up front, but they're a bunch of hardcore skeptics anyway.So they've seen it too and didn't think that they should maybe tell the new girl about it.
What if I was out there alone, I would have died.I was almost screaming, now terrified at the proposition of spending six months here.Please, they try to tell me it's a trick of the light in isolation.Hell, I thought maybe I was going crazy, but
You've helped me out there big time.I finally have a second witness."She said, raising her hands in exasperation.God damn, it feels gratifying to not be gaslit into thinking that I'm losing my mind.
I imagine, I said, trying to calm down and not get too overwhelmed this far in.My nausea was still beating at me, making my gag reflex go wild again. This time, I'm not entirely sure it was the waves causing it, though.
I was still coming to grips with seeing giants walking through the ocean.Not to mention the dread that it was causing was worse than I've felt since grad school.She sat down beside me, handing over the trash can once more.
Another huge wave rocked us, sending me flying forward into the wall. I don't know, think maybe since this place is so far from people that it's where old things go to hide or to be alone.Though some of these things should be left well enough alone."
She said, picking me up as the second wave rocked us back.Nothing that I've found is too dangerous though, so we've got some peace of mind.God, if that's considered not dangerous, I'm afraid to see what else there is.
I sat, curling up in my bunk and pulling my knees to my chest. I was still warm with the ventilation on the station feeling more like stale air being fed back through.
She only smiled back, giving me a brief goodnight before heading into her own room and closing the door.It took me hours to drift off.
Waves kept assailing us through the night, and eventually, I tied myself to the bunk using my blanket to at least try to stay in place. Unfortunately, it didn't do anything for the nausea, which came and went all night.
Every few minutes a smaller wave would rock us, making me fear that one of those things was on their way to stomp us into the depths.
Finally almost asleep, their faces stared me down from behind my eyelids, like the balloons deflating or even just ready to pop right from their bulging eyes as they smiled away.
Those eyes had something behind them, not malice, at least I don't think so.Apathy might have been more fitting.
Every time I remember the one that looked at me, making eye contact with pupils the size of cruise ships, it was like a god is studying an ant.I was just a bug in their environment.
No better than something they would step on during their journey, moving on without guilt. How old does something have to be to get that big?Could these things be older than any of the history we've discovered yet?
Good God my mind wouldn't let me sleep almost as much as the nausea.
It was the early hours of the morning before I was finally out, and thank God the others must have seen that I was exhausted, though only Sandy knew that it wasn't just because of the waves.
When I got up the next morning, still groggy as hell and searching desperately for the coffee pot, I noticed that we had portholes along the outer walls of the living quarters.
Maybe it was just too dark to notice before, but after finally getting coffee in my system, I decided to take a look out.At least to assure myself the ocean outside wasn't out to get me.
Everything that we knew about Point Nemo so far was that it was a lifeless, for the most part, stretch of ocean.Even just looking at the sun filtering through the water is relaxing for me, so I had some hope.
Pulling up a chair I settled in next to the window. Thanks to the shallow depth, it was large enough to get a good view all around, and even bubbles out of the side a little so you have some peripheral vision.
Small strands of sunlight piercing the surface finally gave me some soothing, relaxation setting in.I was drifting off, gazing out into the blue wonder when it opened.If it was one of the giants, I'm not entirely sure.
A huge eye was staring me down through the porthole. Two irises meeting in the middle of it to pierce right through the porthole and through me.I felt the same primal fear that had set in the night before, but this one wasn't like the giants.
I felt malice in this, studying the entire base like we were the ones being researched.It didn't hit me until the moment later how massive it must have been, only the deep yellow surrounding the irises to tell me how far away this leviathan was.
Despite the distance, I could make out every feature.The depths welcome you. I didn't hear it, necessarily.It was like an intrusive thought entering my mind as the irises pulsated, dilating to get a better look at me.
Primal fear set in again, telling every nerve in my body to run.Too bad there's nowhere to run in the middle of the ocean.Don't look at it!Sandy was suddenly beside me, snapping the cover shut on the porthole with a quick slam. Huh?
I was back, the chill still working its way down my back as I came back to the dry confines of the base.Just don't look at it, it says some awful things.She said not looking me right in the eyes, more serious than I had seen her even with the giants.
That thing is different from the others, I've only ever seen the eye but, I don't know, I think making eye contact with it is like an invitation.Just don't do it to be safe. I didn't even have words at this point.
I was one day in, already with most of my assumedly broad knowledge and understanding of the world in shambles.
Everything that I was here for felt secondary, pointless research on algae and ocean bacteria when I might as well have seen a god just hours ago.My anxiety and dread were vying for control of every brain cell and I was the only loser here.
Giants were simple, honestly, though I can feel the chill of empty ocean spray to this day, freezing my bones at the thought.If they were the extent of what I saw, it would have been fine, but there's nothing normal in the middle of the ocean.
These six months that I spent there felt like they alternated between blissful dreams and the worst fever nightmares that I've ever had. A couple of weeks passed without incident.
I got deep into my research, taking water samples, testing the amount of microorganisms and other boring science stuff that I know nobody reading really cares about.
I was starting to get more familiar with the rig and those on it, though it was taking some getting used to.Flam was, well, Flam.He was a weird dude, extremely neurotic and always seemed like he was spaced out.
Shannon was uptight as hell, usually more likely to be upset at anyone in range than to be anywhere near helpful.Hap was nice, though. but I think he kept trying to awkwardly hit on me without realizing that I wasn't too interested in men.
Can't say that I blame him though, it gets lonely out here.Sandy ended up being one of my greatest comforts out on the cold ocean.In the evenings, we would sit out on the platform watching waves pass by as the sun set on the horizon.
Despite everything that I had seen out here so far, it was calming, almost serene when it looked like this.
I was losing myself in the sunset, gazing off into the distance when suddenly a skunky smell hit me, almost knocking me back to my college days.How did you get weed out here?I asked, turning to look at her lighting up a joint.
All she did was laugh at me.Why, are you a cop now?She said back.We passed it back and forth, laughing as the plant took more of an effect.
At some point, Shannon walked out, though all she could do was be disapproving and tell us that we shouldn't be doing that here.Sandy's retort made me laugh even harder.We're on maritime law, babe.Nothing is illegal out here.
Shannon only shook her head, looking directly at me before walking down to the living quarters.Remember, we're taking a dive tomorrow morning. I don't want you to screw it up when we go down."
I saluted, giving Estef, the eye captain, as she walked off in a huff.You nervous about going down there?Sandy asked me now, getting serious again.A little bit.
I know that we're not going too deep for this one, but it's still a little terrifying, you know.I replied, looking at the reflecting sun as it dipped below the horizon line.
In a little over 12 hours, I would be taking our small submersible down to the Twilight Zone, almost 2,000 meters to see what kind of organic life is down there.
I might have been a little excited because there was always the possibility of discovering some new species.I wonder if they would name it after me.
Sandy and I shot the shit for a while longer before finally heading to bed, hoping to get some at least decent sleep before reaching the dark depths. I slept fitfully that night, in fear of what we might find down there.
I hadn't seen the giants again, but that giant eye through the porthole the other day was still haunting me every time I tried to close my eyes.All I could hear was its voice, telling me to join them in the depths.
After one of the worst nights of sleep that I've ever had, we started loading in.The submersible was cramped, with the stale air being pumped through for ventilation that left me sweating.
Flam and I went down together, with Shannon and Hap staying back up with Sandy as our comms.The only window was at the very front, a small porthole with an incredibly limited view of only what was directly ahead.
Maybe the worst part was that other than the console lights and a couple of low red accent lights to see by, this thing was completely dark.I felt like I was crammed into a can, and my claustrophobia was not doing well.
The descent was fine, nothing out of the ordinary at least.We went in phases to be safe, dropping a few hundred meters at a time before stopping for a few minutes. making sure that there weren't any issues with the submersible.
I kept looking over at the small hatch that we had clambered in through, a bulkhead and multiple thick seals keeping us from the massive pressure outside.
Every creak this thing made as we descended I expected to be liquefied where I sat, lost forever to the depths outside.Even in the stuffy air of the sub, I was getting a chill. Approaching 1500 meters.Shannon's voice coming over the small radio.
Reaching target depth in about 5 minutes. Thank you," Flam said, flipping a couple of switches and pushing the shift further.I don't know if that's what it was, but it looked like there was a flight stick installed to control this thing.
Better than an Xbox controller, but still.Ellie, turn on the outside cameras, please.Copy that, I said, flipping around buttons in front of me.The three screens in front of me flashed on, eight different feeds popping up.
We had wide-angle cameras on the port and starboard side, one at the top and bottom of each end of the sub.All of the corners were covered, giving us a full view of everything within our radius.Cameras on, powering on lights.
The lights outside came on, flooding the ocean darkness around us.Despite the output of the lights, strong enough to light a dang fire back on land if you left it on it for too long, we were only able to pierce the abyss so far before losing sight.
And that was when I saw movement right off the edge of our front starboard camera.My heart skipped a beat, amazed that we had found something already as we had barely reached depth at this point.There's something out front.
Go forward towards starboard.I told Flam trying to study what was there just at the edge of our visibility.Flam moved us forward slowly so as to not scare whatever it was off. Unfortunately, whatever it was, it dashed away.
But on the screen as it ran away, it almost looked humanoid, dashing off like an Olympic swimmer.Did you see that? Yeah, it's much faster than us though," Flam said, still pushing the flight stick down propelling us deeper.Still not there yet.
Um, we're at 2,000, Flam.I think we're deep enough for what we're after.I said looking over at him with anxiety rising.How much is this thing rated for?5,000 meters.
He replied, muttering some sort of calculations under his breath while still descending.I know we'll find it.Shannon, Flam is going even deeper, I said, breathless into my radio.
My heartbeat was picking up, tension rising as Flam didn't even react to my message.Any idea what's going on?Flam, where are you going?Shannon asked, a concern rising in her voice. You need to come back to target depth.
We haven't done prep for a deeper dive right now."We'll come back up quickly, I just need to check something."Flam muttered again, flipping the radio off so that Shannon couldn't interject.Whoa, okay Flam, we need to go back up.
You're not thinking straight.I said moving forward to flip the walkie back on.He smacked my hand away, turning with a wild eye, reflecting the intense red light of the cabin. I almost fell back from just how much he had startled me.
Flam may have been a little odd, but usually he was a gentle person, more awkward and introverted than anything.Flam, what the hell are you doing?They told me that I'm welcome in the dobs.
He said, turning back to the small window and looking out ahead.I have to see them. Okay, that's not a good idea, man.Come on, you take monitors, I'll take pilot.Let's switch.I said moving to take the console.
I felt a sharp pain in my arm looking over to see that he had stabbed me with a lab skeletal that he had smuggled on board.I have to see them.The last place uncorrupted by humans.They're waiting for us.
He pulled the scalpel from my arm, pointing it at me and warning before turning back to the console.I fell back to the floor, clutching the wound and trying to stem the bleeding.Thinking quick, just trying to live while I still could.
I tore my shirt off and wrapped it around the wound, pulling my makeshift tourniquet tight.Stop.Take this privilege.Flann was saying back to me now, voice getting higher and more raving mad with every second that passed.
They promised to show me knowledge that humans could only dream of, things that we've had questions for thousands of years.You would pass up this kind of opportunity.Yeah, we're gonna die down here, you idiot.
The monitors were flicking, cameras unable to sustain integrity at the increasing depths without proper protection. I could hear the hall clanging as it bent and expanded, trying to keep integrity in the crushing abyss.
Look," he said, pointing through the front window now.Beyond him, I could see something in the distance, coming into view better as we got closer.What the hell is this?
I was looking downward, our submersible pointed toward the depths as he cut off our lights, plunging us into complete darkness.My eyes took a moment, unable to cut through the most complete, terrifying void of nothing that I've ever seen.
Suddenly, something far below us started to glow, starting faint but getting brighter and brighter as it spread, soon covering the entire seafloor.
Cracks and veins ran through the light, all meeting in one central point flowing towards a deep dark chasm that had circled around.My first thought was bioluminescent microorganisms because we find that all the time in the abyssal zone.
This, though, had to be far too large. It would comprise miles and miles of organisms, all glowing in time with each other before stopping at this one deep pit.
It was going further than I could see through the viewing window, off to drop further into the depths below. It blinked.At least, I assume it blinked.
The glowing purple came rushing close from opposite sides, meeting completely over the pit and plunging us into darkness for a moment.When it opens back up almost immediately, I could feel a shockwave hit the submersible moments later.
The chasm in the middle started narrowing to a ravine, a deep glow coming from the furthest depths.It reminded me of a cat's eye, but the glowing purple started becoming a deep red.
All I could feel from this thing was an intense hatred, like we were bothersome and waking it from a deep nap.
I acted as soon as I possibly could, grabbing the small fire extinguisher that we kept at the back and hitting Flam right from behind with it.
Thank God it knocked him out immediately, and I was able to take the flight stick, pulling back as hard as possible to return to the surface.
The narrowed slit kept watching us as we made the ascent, me praying to whatever gods may be on the surface that it didn't decide to come after us.The damn thing must have taken up most of the seafloor, whatever it was.
Flam was grumbling beside me now, saying something that didn't even sound like a language that I knew of.
As we rushed to the surface, hull clanging and banging the entire way, I could finally see light beginning to break through the dobs, strands of sun filtering down to guide our way.
Flipping the comms on, I immediately heard Shannon shouting through the radio, demanding to know what had happened and if we were still alive. Flam tried to kill us, I said, still pulling back as he started coming back to his senses.
He looked like he didn't know where he was or how he got there, now mumbling in perfect English about how his head was pounding.We're resurfacing, I'll fill you in once we get there.
When we pulled up to the surface, Sandy grabbing the sub with the lift on the platform as we got near her.As soon as I felt the thump of us settling on the platform, I threw the hatch open and ran out to the sweet surface air.
The salty smell of the ocean was one of the most relieving things ever, but knowing that that thing was down there, god, I started babbling to Sandy almost immediately when she ran over. Pulling me into a hug as I started crying.
Shannon called in a medivac for Flam who couldn't remember a thing since the night before.It's like he wasn't even in control.That knock to the head is sorting out whatever short circuit was happening.
The chopper picked him up a few hours later, still babbling about how he wasn't sure what happened, waking up in the sub as we were tearing through the ocean for the surface.
All he could remember was looking out of the porthole in the living quarters last night, his usual routine to relax before falling asleep.He said the last thing he remembered was seeing something out there looking back at him.
I gave Shannon and Hab a full rundown disclosing to the med team that yes, I may have given him potential brain damage.None of them were mad considering the circumstances, but I think Shannon was suspicious.Can't say that I blame her.
I told her all about what we saw, but her hard skepticism wouldn't take the idea of an eye covering most of the C4. Sandy believed me, thank God.
When we talked about it that night, laying in my bunk, I was sobbing uncontrollably because I felt like I was going insane.After I described it to her, though, she surprised me.I've seen it, too.
She whispered, looking me in the eye from across the pillow.Not like you have, but in dreams.It talks to me sometimes, tells me to swim down to it to feel the embrace of the oceans.I don't like it. There was so much hate in it though.
I said grasping for whatever words I could through deep anxious breaths.It looked like it had nothing but loathing for us.The giants were indifferent but this thing was angry that we were there.
Shhh, it's okay," she said again, brushing my hair away from teary eyes.You're going to be okay.It won't come up here.What if it does though, Sandy?It's probably bigger than an entire continent.What if it does come up here?We'll all die, Sandy.
I was almost screaming, seeing Hap come around the living quarters hallway with concern on his face.Sandy just shoot him away, making a motion that she had everything handled.
If it does, there's not much that we can do, but we can face it together, she said looking deep into my eyes.It was the first comfort that I had felt since arriving, before seeing what depth of insanity was out here.
She kissed me, holding me tight as I fell asleep. A week later, and I'm still holding in there.The eye still looks into me from my dreams every couple of nights, but Sandy's been keeping me company and comforting me through the nightmares.
I'm not really for all the romance stuff, but she had me. Something about her just set me at ease whenever I was on edge, no matter what kind of stress I was under.
We were hanging out on the deck that night sparking up again and watching the stars play off the waves as the night grew longer.
I thought at first that I was seeing a star on the horizon falling toward Earth, but after a moment she had noticed it too, standing up and looking out toward the horizon.
A pyre of flame was heading our way, roaring over the ocean and boiling the waves as it went.I could see huge sails with a jolly roger emblazoned on a flag high above, the flames burning it but never making it fade.
It kept getting closer and closer, threatening to ram us at high speed as the two of us started screaming for the others to wake up and to get ready for impact.
Their screams were audible over the crackling timber and whooshing flames as it came near, and both of us looked back when we heard them.
Dozens of people were standing out on the deck of the ship, all doused in flames, burning high into the air alongside the lumber around them.
Some were dancing and others were writhing in agony, but all were screaming and shouting to the high moon above like banshees in the night.It was coming at us, speeding ever closer and accelerating the entire time.
There was nowhere to go, just Sandy and I stuck there against the platform railing. as far as possible from the sailing inferno.We hugged each other tight, closing our eyes in preparation to be tossed into the waves by a burning juggernaut.
It never happened.The ship passed straight through us like we weren't even there. We could feel the heat of the flames, these screams whipping by us as it pulled our screams with it, joining the cacophony of hell on the waves.
And then it was gone, racing the other way across the sea towards another destination, screams trailing behind as it sunk over the horizon, water reflecting the pyre even after it was out of sight. Did you guys hear that?"
Hap had said, coming up from the living quarters and rubbing sleep from his eyes.Dang, it's hot down there too.Sounded like a bunch of screaming.Did something hit us?Is there a breach?
Sandy calmed him before he got panicky, looking at us in the night.Just us, don't worry.I'll get out of here.Oh, okay, Hap said, starting to turn for the door before letting out a sudden understanding.Oh.
Not like that, Sandy said, shooing him back down to the living quarters as he laughed. We held each other looking off into the night where the ship had disappeared to before she spoke.Gotta be honest, that was a new one for me.
Jesus Christ, was all that I could say, heart still racing as I tried to catch my breath.She pulled me closer, brushing my hair back over my ear and humming low.
A soothing melody as the night returned to peace, completely undisturbed by the death that just roared through. I don't know if it was the world taking pity on me, keeping any more bad shit from happening for a while, but I was going to take it.
Though I did see the giants a few more times, and on occasion when gazing out of the porthole, I would see the giant eye watching us in the distance. A body drifted in near the platform three months later, catching in one of the nets.
At first we thought it was probably some drowning victim, maybe a suicide that threw themselves into the ocean.They were completely naked, a long pale body shining in the morning glow when Hap at first reported it.
Sandy and I went down in the dive suits, pulling it from the tangled safety net and bringing it up the ladder. We noticed immediately when we got to it that it wasn't a normal person though.What the hell is that?
Hap said looking at the creature now laid out on the platform.Sandy and I leaned over along with him and Shannon, inspecting the strange being that we found.
It was long, probably nine feet if I had to guess, a human-ish torso, or human enough at least.It was extremely light, tiny, delicate fins running down the arms and spine, though they were hardly noticeable unless closely inspected.
Gills ran from the chest up to the neck, elongated and smooth as it reached the head. Its face was close to ours but with a smooth, almost flattened nose.
Larger eyes were situated far apart, almost on either side of the head, while the lower jaw was huge, extremely wide, with sharp rows of teeth visible, as it jutted out from the upper half of the head.
Webbed hands at the end of long arms must have been used for gliding through the water easily.The oddest thing to appear, though, was that at the waist it became more leathery, long masses of tentacles hanging down from the abdomen.
They weren't like octopus tentacles, but the best that I could compare it to was something like that of a lion's mane jellyfish, long, slender, and pale just like its skin, extending maybe ten feet longer from the torso at its longest.
Is this... is this a mermaid?"Shannon asked in complete disbelief at what was out in front of us.My mind was flashing back to the submarine now, wondering if this was what we had saw on the edge of the cameras before things went to hell.
Maybe it was related to the giant eye.Help me get it to the lab, now. The four of us hefted it up, heading right into the base lab and throwing it on the exam table, tentacles falling off the end and curling on the floor below.
Shannon grabbed a scalpel immediately, beginning to line it up with the center of the creature's chest.
Before she could make the incision even an inch, the creature began to scream a horrible sound like the screams of a drowning person, sound escaping into bubbles and stifling water even here above the surface.
Holy shit, Sandy shouted, stepping back from the table as it swiped a hand at her, vicious needles at the end of the webbed fingers extending outward like a cat's claws.
Hap wasn't so lucky, catching a couple of good slashes on his shoulder as he fell back from the creature.It screamed again, using inhuman strength to heave itself from the table.
The tentacles began moving, sliding it across the smooth floor and toward the door, searching for any escape.I was finally able to see the wide open eyes as it looked back at us.It had fear in its eyes.
They were the same glowing purple as what I had seen below closed into slits once more.It looked like it was barely able to keep its eyes open, likely because of the blinding light up here compared to the depths of the twilight zone.
The look on its face was frenzied though, obviously struggling to breathe without being in its natural environment below the ocean.I'm not even sure how it was alive honestly, but it looked like it was fighting for its life to return home.
Stand back!Everybody stand back!"I shouted, erasing my hands and a sign of showing the creature that I wasn't going to hurt it.
I'm not sure if it got the message because it only backed into the door more before turning to claw at the metal, begging to be let out.I moved toward it slowly, still holding my hands up and now trying to talk it down. Hey, hey, I can help you.
Stop for a second and I can let you out.No, don't let it escape.Do you know what a discovery this is?
Shannon was huffing her way toward me now, trying to pull me back from the thing as it desperately searched for another way out, moving from the door to look out one of the windows.If you let it out, we can't show anybody what we found.
It sliced a hand at the window, scraping against the thick glass to make the worst sound that I've heard in my entire life.
I ducked back, covering my head as it pulled a hand back again, this time ramming a huge open palm full force into the glass, shattering it.It pulled itself out, catching tentacles and bleeding deep blue blood as it scraped along the glass.
Before we could even open the door, it dove back into the sea, clearing the safety net with ease and disappearing. Shannon was cursing up a storm, banging her hands on the railing as she screamed to the empty ocean before us.
Sandy and I were trying to help Hop out, deep gashes bleeding through and soaking his clothes now.They were only on his shoulder thankfully and though it would hurt for a while, he would heal with some bandages and basic first aid.
Sandy and I were the only ones keeping cool heads though, because he was in deep shock while Shannon couldn't do anything but rant about her lost discovery. I wish that was the end of it.
Shannon became obsessed with trying to find one, taking the tentacles and blood samples it left behind in the window to examine every single thing about them.
We got lucky when pulling into the lab because she found a neurotoxin secreted in the tentacles, though it seemed the creature could activate it at will to sting prey. Hard to believe this thing could be that deadly.
We weren't able to test the effects of the toxin of course, but judging from the makeup of it, those caught only lasted long enough to see the jaws close around them.Hap, he started to change.
It was subtle at first, his speech and voice becoming odd in what seemed like the development of an acute type of asthma. Trouble breathing, issues with keeping food down, and a persistent headache were the start.
Then it became rapid after the two-month mark, taking slow hold of him.
He came into the cafeteria that morning gurgling, saying that he felt like he had aspirated water into his lungs, and then it quickly worsened, with him collapsing to the ground as he stood up to head to the lab.
We called medevac immediately, noting that it was a life or death emergency this time, so they needed to get here ASAP.It didn't matter, Hab collapsed, desperately clutching at his chest for air as he tried ripping through his clothes.
I noticed now that his skin was coming up between his fingers, webbing his hands up to the knuckles.As he ripped his shirt off, I saw why he wasn't able to breathe.
Huge, slashed gills were opening further into his chest, pulsating as they tried to breathe in through dry air.He was drowning on land, desperately gasping as the oxygen simply had nowhere to go now.
I picked him up as fast as I could, desperately trying to drag him out to the water in hopes that it would help. I shouted for Sandy as I went, knowing that Shannon was up in the lab where she wouldn't hear me.
As we rushed through the door, I grabbed a life preserver hanging on the railing before jumping over.Hap was barely standing as I pulled, trying to get him over the bars despite how much taller he was than me.The worst happened then.He broke in half.
More like just disconnected at the waist.His lower body slid down the deck, hitting the wet floor with a smack.From where his body was severed, I was holding his top half, now dangling down huge, lengthy tentacles that were writhing in agony.
I was barely able to hang on as one of them hit me, stinging me on the hand before I dropped into the water, half falling after me.
We hit the water hard, me barely hanging onto the float as he began gasping in big breaths, voice becoming less drowned and raspy as he did.
He was screaming though, face contorting in pain as his skull began shifting, taking on a more aquatic, streamlined appearance like the creature before. He was drifting away from me now, gasping while squeezing his head.
His eyes began to move, sockets widening and stretching outward as they went.His jaw disfigured, jutting out with a sharp snap and pop.
I felt myself losing consciousness and then, a woozy feeling overtaking me as the neurotoxin began taking hold from the sting that he gave me. I was slipping in and out, life becoming a dream as Hap's screams faded out on the waves.
I felt arms close around me, situating a life vest over my head as I went limp, Sandy's face glowing like an angel through the sea foam as she pulled me up.
She took me into the lab, setting me down on an exam table while screaming at Shannon to fix me now.Shannon looked surprised to say the least, and quickly went over to the case nearby, pulling a small vial out and hefting a syringe.
I was trying to talk to them I think, trying to tell them to go after Hap while they still could, but nobody was listening to me.Only Sandy screaming at Shannon as she took a sample from the vial and stabbed it down into me.
almost in the middle of my chest.I passed out then. When I came to, the sun was going down and I was being loaded up into the back of a helicopter.
Sandy kept getting told to stay back on the raft and that they would report back, but she refused to leave my side.I was numb, almost my entire body completely oblivious to the feelings around me.
I couldn't even turn my head, seeing only the ceiling of the helicopter interior and Sandy's face occasionally. She was screaming at Shannon, also sitting on the helicopter crowded in alongside two EMTs.
You killed him and might still kill her, all because you couldn't lose your precious discovery.I ought to throw you out over into the ocean right now.
Sandy was angry, voice going hoarse as the EMTs begged her to calm down, saying that it could stress me out.Shannon looked dejected, unable to cope with the idea that she had lost one of the biggest breaks of her career.
You were injecting him when you were supposed to be treating him.What in the ever-loving God is wrong with you? I passed out again, only coming to once more with bright hospital lights above me, machines beeping all around and a tube down my throat.
I felt like I couldn't breathe, even with the oxygen streaming in right through the tube, and I tried taking it out myself before somebody grabbed my hand, steadying me.
Hey, hey, shh, I got you, don't do that, you don't want to hurt yourself, Sandy's voice said, her touch guiding my hands back down by my side. Nurse, nurse, she's awake.
After the doctors took the breathing and feeding tubes out, updating me that I had been in a coma for a week at this point as the toxin worked its way through, I finally got a chance to talk with her.
After Hap's injury, Shannon was the one treating him since she had the most human medical knowledge out of all of us.
Apparently after she had used an antidote made up from studying the neurotoxin and blood of the creature to stop the progress on me, she broke down and spilled everything to Sandy, confessing her sins.
Every time that she treated Hab, giving him what she assured him to his face were antibiotic shots just to be safe.She was injecting that thing's blood directly into him.
I don't know how it did what it did, but I guess after enough time acclimating to the dose, his body just didn't want to stay human.She was the one responsible for everything, from his death to my still recovering state.
They haven't found Hap, and still to this day, three years later, they've done sweeps of the entire area around Point Nemo and despite keeping somebody stationed out on the rig, there hasn't been any sight of him out there.
I'm still not bad to my old self.The numbness comes and goes, usually worse in my extremities.For about six months, I was wheelchair-bound, unable to walk more than a couple of feet until the atrophy in my muscles caused me to collapse.
She's been by my side through all of this though.Every trial since we met in that rig, Sandy's been by my side, even helping me learn how to walk again.
I'm at the point now where I'm able to exercise often, finally and we're both training up to run a marathon in the spring. I guess what made me want to write all of this out was trying to come to terms with what happened out there.
I've been in therapy since I was discharged from the hospital, but they would just think some of the stuff I said was a coping mechanism.But she knows and she believes me and that's all that matters.
All these memories came rushing back to me last week when she proposed. We'll be moving off soon, staying in the mountains, far away from the ocean in any direction.
The air out there is supposed to be good for me and the doctor said the elevation should help me get around a lot easier.
I still wake up late at night sometimes, the image of that giant eye staring down at me from the abyss, hanging over my head like a ghost. I know that it's not there, not where I am at least.
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PrizePix, run your game.I found a dog in my backyard with a camera on its collar.The footage is disturbing.Written by Dr. Forged. I've never been a pet person or a people person.
My life is pretty much a storyboard of my favorite scene with small variations.A clean room, a comfortable chair, a good book, and an even better scotch, and some classic rock from the vinyl collection that I inherited from my grandfather.
I get called boring frequently and my sisters are always on my case about it, but it's my life, you know.I wake up in the morning when my body decides that it's time.No alarms and no demands.
I roll out of bed and head to the kitchen where my French press sits on the counter.I make a nice breakfast and watch the sunrise while I finish my coffee.
My house is on the smaller side in a boring suburb, but I have it decorated just the way that I like.70s mid-century revival.Tapered vintage furniture, geometric art, the works.
I work from home as a consultant, analyzing data for companies that don't know I exist beyond the spreadsheets that I send them.It's the perfect job for me.Minimal interaction, maximum solitude.
The work can be tedious, but it pays the bills, and I can get lost in the numbers, patterns, and figures.It's like solving puzzles, and I've always liked puzzles.
Sometimes, if I'm feeling what constitutes wild for me, I play music while I work, smoke a little weed.I eat lunch, go for a run, shower, log back on again until I get however far I want to with my work projects.
and then I cap off the day with dinner, a movie, a book, or both if it's the weekend.Every once in a while I'll catch up with an old friend or one of my sisters, but only every few months or so.
If I'm being totally honest, solitude is what feels safest to me. My mom died when I was still in high school, and after, my dad wasn't the greatest guy, to put it lightly.I spent my teenage years cleaning up his messes.
And then to make things more challenging when I moved out, my college roommate was the same.After all that, I stick to a routine, keep things simple.
No one coming home at 3am, drunk off their ass, no pillow over their head to drown out the screams of adults that should know better.
I was at the tail end of my usual quiet night in when I saw the dog, sitting in my favorite armchair half asleep, trying to keep my eyes open long enough to get to the end of a chapter of I Am Legend.
At first I thought that I had imagined it, like my brain was so far turned off to reality that I had started conjuring up characters from the story, which if you don't know, incidentally does feature a dog.
But as I stared out my window, growing increasingly more awake, I knew the dog was real.It was a scruffy looking thing covered in mud, right in the middle of the yard.I could tell that it was staring back at me through the window.
It sniffed the air and sat down, wagging its tail in a way that was so pathetically hopeful that it had me sliding on my slippers and down the stairs, before I even knew what I was doing.
The truly odd thing about the dog being there was that it shouldn't have been able to get in.The fencing that I have is a solid 8 foot wall of overlapping wooden slats.
I'm in Colorado and an area with a lot of farms and I've had one of the companies that usually handles places like ranches come out to do it. It's completely gap-free and dug deep into the ground to stop anything from burrowing underneath.
The whole thing's built like a fortress, according to my neighbors.It was this whole thing with the HOA.So I was intrigued, to say the least.Like I said, puzzles always have a way of hooking me in, ever since I was a kid.
My sisters have this inside joke that I'm like one of those folklore vampires, that you can stop me in my tracks if you throw me a tangle of knots.I made my way to the kitchen lit by moonlight and silent except for the hum of the refrigerator.
I flicked on the porch lamp illuminating the darkened path that led to the unexpected visitor in my yard. I blinked out into the darkness, taking stock of the situation.
The dog was big, really big, much larger than the usual mid-sized kind you see in a suburban neighborhood like mine.
Its fur was grayish, shaggy, and matted, and it had obviously seen better days, like a stuffed animal that had been left out in the rain.Maybe a working dog that wandered off a farm, I thought. something around the dog's neck caught the light.
At first, it seemed like just a part of the shagginess, maybe a knotted clump of hair.It was a dark and bulky protrusion that stood out against its matted fur.
But as the dog shifted, laying down more squarely under the beam of light, the object glinted It was secured by what looked like weathered straps, wrapping around the dog's thick neck.Curiosity peaked.
I leaned in closer to the window, but it was hard to make out the details from that distance.The thought that it could be something like a collar for an invisible fence crossed my mind, but it looked too cumbersome for that.
Definitely something more substantial than too odd for a working dog.A puzzle strapped to another puzzle. I forgot to grab a sweatshirt and so I braced myself for the chill of the night air, unlocked the back door and stepped out onto the deck.
The porch light didn't quite reach the far corners of the yard, leaving the edges dipped in shadow.The yellow glow clashed with the blue moonlight, making everything, the clean-cut hedges, the angles of distant fences,
look oddly disproportionate out of space and time, like the cookie-cutter model homes on either side of my own repeated infinitely.As I edged closer, the gravel of the pathway crunched underfoot, a sharp contrast to the stillness of the night.
The dog noticing my approach perked up.Its tail gave a cautious wag and its eyes watched me intently, but it didn't make any move to come closer or run away.
It just sat there, looking somewhat forlorn but oddly expected in that way that dogs always seem to do. I stopped a few feet away, giving it space, trying not to spook it.Up close, I could see the object around its neck clearly.
It was a camera, and a large one at that, secured with an elaborate harness that seemed out of place against its gruffy fur. Intrigued, I crouched down to the dog's level, carefully reaching out a hand.The dog sniffed the air, its nose twitching.
There was a soft, warm intelligence in its brown eyes, buried under hairy eyebrows clashing with its rough exterior.It stood up and took a few steps closer.Hey there, I said softly.
Without warning, the dog's lips pulled back into a snarl, spitting out a low, rumbling growl.I instinctively recoiled, hard hammering to my chest, kicking myself for not just calling animal control.I had completely forgotten my phone altogether.
It was charging upstairs, and now I was in a dominant standoff with a massive dog with, I soon realized, bigger balls than mine.
It was so tense that I barely breathed, but after a few agonizingly long minutes, I realized that he wasn't looking at me.
The dog's rigid body, pinned ears, and narrowed eyes were angled, fixed intently on something that I couldn't see at the far end of the yard.Yet another thing that I hadn't thought of.What if something else was out here with him?
I squinted into the darkness, trying to discern what he might be seeing, but there was nothing.As I stood there, waiting for my pulse to settle, I watched the dog closely, readying myself to bolt for the back door if I needed to.
I spoke to him in a low, soothing tone in an attempt to calm his nerves and mine. Hey buddy, it's okay, there's nothing there, see?"I gestured towards the empty corner as if he could understand.The tension gradually left his body.
His ears relaxed and his tail began to wag, albeit hesitantly.After one last lingering glance at the corner of the fence, which unnervingly seemed to loom larger despite all reason, I knew that it was time to bring the dog inside.
I walked back to the door and held it open.The dog seemed to consider his options and then slowly made his way up the steps with a resigned, tired air and passed through the doorway.I shut the door behind us, cutting off the chill of the night.
Inside, the dog paused, taking in his new surroundings.I led him to the fridge where I had some cold cuts for sandwiches.Even with as little as I knew about pet care, I figured chicken would do in a pinch.
I opened the package and poured the contents into a bowl, setting it on the floor.The dog approached it hesitantly, sniffed, and began to eat with a sort of polite desperation.
While the dog ate, I took a closer look at the camera strapped around his neck.The harness was complicated with adjustable straps to keep it secure.It fit snugly around the dog's broad neck.I reached down and unbuckled it as gently as I could.
The dog paused his eating to look up at me, eyes holding a flicker of anxiety. I reassured him, hoping I sounded authentic instead of how I felt, which was awkward.I couldn't remember when I last talked to a dog.
I hesitated for a second and then scratched behind his ears. Seeming reassured, he went back to eating.When I pulled my hand away, it came back covered with a crust and I winced, not wanting to think too hard about what it had been rolling around in.
The harness and camera came free with a little more effort.A scattering of pebbles caught under the straps scattered over the tile floor. With the burden removed, the dog seemed visibly relieved, body relaxing, and tail swaying.
I set the harness on the table and walked to the sink.As I went to grab the dish soap, I noticed the color of the tacky gunk that coated my palm, a deep, rusted red.Dried blood? My heart leaped to my throat.
I scrubbed my hands quickly, watching red-blown flakes swirl down the drain, wondering what on earth I had gotten myself into.
I braced myself against the sink and considered my options, which were pretty few considering how late it was, and then I grabbed a pair of rubber gloves from under the sink.
Starting from his neck where the harness had been, I checked his fur and skin.Parting the matted fur as I looked for any signs of wounds.Thankfully he remained calm, tail thumping lightly on the floor a few times like he enjoyed the attention.
I couldn't find a single cut.Maybe he had rolled around in a dead animal.Even in my limited experience with pets, I knew they liked to do things like that.A big reason that we weren't allowed to have a dog growing up.
I went to the closet and grabbed an old t-shirt that had been destined for the rag pile.I lathered it up with more soap and worked the cloth through its thick matted fur, pulling away layers of that murky red mud.
Or at least, that's what I told myself it was.Just mud. I toweled him dry and set him up comfortably on an old bath mat.Underneath all the muck, he had wiry gray curls and hair on his muzzle that curled into a little mustache.
He sprawled out, looking quite content.And then I turned my attention to the camera that had been strapped around his neck.It seemed like it belonged on a wildlife expedition, not a suburban stray.
I had enough familiarity with similar equipment to know that it had all the marks of something expensive being repurposed. including labels scratched off for privacy.
The person that rigged it knew what they were doing, enough to make sure that whoever it belonged to originally wouldn't be able to prove that it was theirs.
I grabbed my spare laptop from my office and sat back down at the kitchen table, trying not to look too closely at the clock ticking down in the corner of the screen.I felt wide awake anyway.
I knew it wasn't going to be a simple plug-and-play situation.The camera was a heavy-duty piece with a connector that didn't match the usual USB cables I had lying around.
Digging through my junk drawer, I found an old universal adapter kit that seemed promising.I shuffled through the adapters until I found one that looked like it could fit the port.Success.
Connecting it felt like a small victory although I didn't have anybody to share it with.I looked down at the dog and he thumped his tail once, like a little sarcastic, congrats.
I attached the other end of my laptop with a hopeful kind of skepticism, half expecting it not to recognize the device.
To my relief, after a moment of nothing happening, and just when I thought that it wouldn't work, it popped up, listed ambiguously as external device. Opening the camera's storage, I found a single file, a surprisingly regular .avi.
As it loaded, I glanced on again at my new companion, sprawled comfortably by the table legs, watching me with a mix of curiosity and tired calm.You're welcome, I said. He blinked at me and thumped his tail again.
As an afterthought while I was waiting for the video to load, I got up and filled a bowl of water which he slurped with enthusiasm.He made a complete mess of it, but I had to admit he looked cute while he did it.
Even though I knew the video was loading, it still made me jump when the audio came on. A woman's face came into frame, pretty, maybe in her mid-40s with a smattering of freckles on her chin and forehead.
The angle was close enough that she could see the laugh lines crinkling in the corner of her eyes as she smiled down at the dog.Auggie, I asked aloud as I eased myself back in the chair, checking to see the dog's reaction.
His ears perked up and his tail batted against the ground, the fastest that I had seen it move yet.The name suited him. In the video, Augie barked a few times until the woman laughed and rose out of frame.
The camera jostled as Augie bolted forward, the edges of the frame blurring with the rapid movement.Clay-colored boulders loomed large and vibrant on either side, their jagged silhouettes painted against a cloudless bright blue sky.
The ground beneath Augie's racing paws was a mix of sand and stone that wound through the landscape, broken only by the occasional tuft of scrub grass. The frame tilted abruptly.
The view skewed and there was the sound of something skittering, like claws on stone.The camera now suddenly showed only a sliver of the bright sky and the rough, shadowed edges of rock on either side.
Augie struggled as winds echoed off the rock walls.In his excitement, he had misstepped and wound up tumbling into a narrow crack in the earth.
The footage was chaotic, capturing every frantic movement as he struggled, the camera bumping and shaking erratically with his efforts to free himself.
My stomach twisted with anxiety for Augie, even though I knew that he was right next to me without a scratch.I leaned down to pat his head, and he rolled his eyes up to give me an appreciative look.Tough day, huh, big guy?
He snorted and sighed, as if agreeing, and then closed his eyes again. In the video, somewhere in the distance, I could hear the woman yelling.She must have seen him fall.She instructed, but despite her words, her tone was frantic.
A few minutes later, the camera captured her leaning over the gap, panting as heavily as Augie.Her face and tank top drenched in sweat as she reached down towards the trapped dog. She soothed, assessing the situation from above.
Her fingers stretched towards him, but she couldn't reach far enough to grab a hold of his harness.With a frustrated grunt, she pulled back, disappearing from the frame.Faintly, I could just make out her saying, and then silence.
All that was left was the unsettling sound of Auggies, a distressed panting, and the slight scraping of his paws against the rock as he continued to try to escape.Moments later, the woman's voice sounded again, this time brisk with purpose.
She set off camera before she stepped into view again, sweat plastering her hair to her cheeks, pointing towards the left side of the screen as if he could understand her.
And to his credit, the camera swiveled slightly as he perked up at her return and he followed the gesture.
The woman's descent into the cave was off camera, but after a few tense minutes, Augie was finally freed, his harness ripping just enough to pull it away from the rock walls.
He scrambled up beside her and she checked him over for any injuries, her fingers running through his fur.She hugged him, relief washing over her face, visible even through the grainy footage.
She repeated over and over again, her voice thick with relief. The woman took a moment to wipe her face with the bottom of her tank top, scrubbing away the worst of the tears and dirt, and then she stood up and surveyed their surroundings.
Her gaze lingered on something to the side, the pathway that she had taken to reach Augie.The camera on the collar captured her eyes tracing back along the dark and narrow tunnel. yet," she said quietly.
Her expression turned contemplative and then concerned.The footage showed her walking a few steps back towards the tunnel entrance, peering into its craggy brown shadows.
The rock was visibly unstable, debris wedged in the place that she must have initially come through.
For the next hour, she pulled at the fallen rocks but they didn't budge, only sending a few smaller stones clattering down and raising clouds of dust.
She tried the thin rift that Augie had fallen through but couldn't get the right vantage, slipping down the sides over and over again.Throughout the process, she screamed for help until her voice was hoarse.
Apparently realizing the futility of her efforts, she stepped back, kneeling down to Augie, her face centered in frame as she wiped her forehead with the back of her hand.
The thin sunlight steaming through the cracks at the surface illuminated her face, accentuating her worried expression.She said, reaching a hand to pet his muzzle.She sighed. I'm sorry buddy, I should have paid attention to the signs.
This is my fault.But I got us into this mess and I'll get us out. Her voice was determined.She gave his head a pat, jostling the camera, and then she took out a bottle of water from a fanny pack, taking a sip before offering some to Augie.
I wondered what kind of signs she meant.Signs as in she should have recognized how unstable the land was, or literal ones as in no trespassing.
She pulled her phone from her fanny pack, tapping the flashlight on to augment the waning daylight that filtered weakly through the cracks above.
The beam of the flashlight cut through the darkness, revealing the uneven rocky terrain of the tunnel system that they were now committed to navigating. The footage became increasingly more unsettling as they delved deeper into the cave system.
The initial narrow constricting tunnel opened up into a series of interconnected chambers that, while undeniably larger, had a vastness that was paradoxically claustrophobic.
The light from these small flashlights seemed insignificant in the expansive spaces, the beam swallowed completely by the darkness.
The walls were uneven, pockmarked with deeper pockets and crevices that were disorienting in how similar each footstep was to the last.Stalactites and stalagmites merged into pillars, petrified organic gross that looked almost alien.
The pass narrowed into chokingly tight squeezes.The worst of the footage showed them approaching a slim passageway, the walls seeming to press in from all sides.
The woman had to turn sideways to fit, her back scraping against the rock, tearing her shirt and cutting into the flesh below. The sound was harsh, grating, unnervingly loud.
Augie hesitated behind her, the camera bobbing as he seemed reluctant to follow, but with gentle coaxing and a soft tug on his harness, he obeyed. The woman seemed to increase in the unnerved as well.
Her breathing became heavier and her fruitless attempts to find service on her phone more frequent.Each breath seemed to bounce off the walls, creating a looping kind of anxiety.
The woman paused, shining her light in a slow arc, the beam catching on distant, glistening wet rocks."'Hoggy, where are we?'she whispered, and it seemed to scream loud after the oppressive silence.
on my head's killing me, the pressure down here," she trailed off.Augie sighed as seeming to echo her sentiment.They pressed on for hours.
Only once, they stopped and rested, eating a sparse meal of an energy bar and a plastic baggie full of dog treats.It was grueling and heartbreaking to watch.
The whole point of it was to try to find out where on earth the dog had come from, and now what had happened to the woman who owned him, but I still felt a pang of guilt when I clicked fast forward.
It felt like I was abandoning them, like I should get changed and do something, even though it obviously wasn't happening in real time. I settled for petting Augie again, who was so tired that he barely even twitched.
And then abruptly, the atmosphere in the footage had shifted.There was, quite literally, a light at the end of the tunnel, bright like it was high noon sunlight.
A tense breath that I hadn't realized I had been holding escaped my chest as the camera moved forward.Augie's head angled down towards his uncertain steps. The woman said.
She crouched down to put her arms around Augie's neck, covering the lens and the dark curls of her hair.Tears were visible on her cheeks, smudged with that red-brown mud.The hole was positioned awkwardly at the base of the tunnel's end.
in a regular break in the cave wall, its edges rough and jagged.The woman approached cautiously, her figure silhouetted against the stark light, measuring the size with her hands before positioning herself to crawl through.
She whistled for Augie, who seemed strangely hesitant to follow her, lingering in the darkness of the cave for a long moment before finally following her.
The light intensified, turning the screen stark and white, filling the tunnel's exit with a blinding glow that seemed almost otherworldly.As the camera's exposure adjusted, the outlines of a large interior space began to crystallize on the screen.
It was a room.Augie's camera, jostling slightly with each step that he took, revealed smooth concrete walls and high ceilings supported by thick, concrete beams.
A stark, utilitarian, man-made space that seemed like a different planet after so much time spent in the jagged confines of the cave system.
There were shelves along the wall sealed water bottles, stacks of blankets, and white boxes with red crosses that must have been medical supplies.Despite all the evidence, the realization still dawned on me slowly.
The woman and her dog had stumbled into some kind of bunker. As Augie patted her on the roam following the woman as she carefully explored the space, seemingly as confused as I was, the camera angled back to the wall that they had come through.
These stalagmites were visible through the torn rock.It looked as if something had burrowed into the side of it, or burrowed out.
There was something next to the hole, a pile of wires and maybe some other electronics, but Augie didn't linger long enough to get anything more than a blurry glimpse, even when I had paused the video.
Seconds later, there was a hollow clicking noise.The woman turned to face it, and Augie followed her line of vision and stared into the barrel of a shotgun.My stomach lurched and the woman cried out, raising her arms.
Augie, who must have sensed danger even if he didn't know what it was, took a few cautious steps back, growling. She stammered.The shotgun belonged to another woman, tall and painfully thin with long stringy blonde hair.
She was dressed in a sweatsuit that had seen better days and her hands trembled where they held the gun, which she moved from side to side as if she wasn't certain to focus on the dog or the woman.A voice called out.
There was a shuffling noise off screen. Stay.Stay, Kyle.Stay with Corey and your father.Please."Augie's orner bagged.I promise we're not trying to.Mom, is everything okay?Kyle, I told you to stay.
A small blonde tat appeared out from the side of the doorway.A little boy as painfully thin as his mother.Please, I just need you to call 911 or I might have service now if you just let me.
The mother and son turned to look back at Augie's owner, their faces shocked.They stayed in silence for a while.Augie turned his head back and forth to watch the standoff.Come on, the woman said, gesturing with the barrel of the gun.
If that dog comes for me, you're both done.He'll be good.Augie's a good dog and I'm... the woman said.No names. The blonde woman cut her off, her voice flat.I let out a hissing breath, my hands clenching into fists.
An ominous thing to say considering that she'd already called her son by name.She didn't want to humanize her.I wondered if the other woman realized, if she knew what a bad sign that was.
Augie's claws scraped the concrete floor as he followed the woman.He paused and looked at the boy who looked at him with an intensely curious expression, like Augie was some kind of exotic species.
The camera jostled as Augie followed his owner, her filthy hands still reaching towards the ceiling as they were forced deeper into the bunker.
They moved through a narrow hallway lined with pipes and flickering fluorescent lights that eventually gave way to a more open area.At the far end, there was a couch arranged like a bed where a man lay connected to an IV stand.
His features gaunt and pallid.Beside him, a little boy, Cory, I had guessed, sat in a small chair, his unwashed blonde hair matching the woman's and the other boy's, his body equally thin and fragile-looking.Set. The blonde woman commanded.
Augie did what he was told immediately, facing his owner who did the same in a banged up folding chair, one of a few that had been placed in a semi-circle around the couch.The other two did the same, sitting on either side of Corey.
The blonde woman never lowered the gun. Augie moved his head slowly, taking in the space around him.
It was a makeshift living room set up in such a way that it seemed more like an infirmary, everything looking out of place against these stark, concrete walls.The woman and her two sons faced Augie and his owner.
This strange, palpably tense tableau held for a moment, everybody frozen in place, as if waiting for someone else to make the next move. We used to have a dog."One of the boys, Kyle, said suddenly.He was still staring at Augie.
Quiet, the mother said, and then after a beat she spoke again.When did you come from?It was just outside of the state park and… Not where?When?I'm not sure what you mean.Just answer the question.
The woman's harsh tone made Augie turn his head to focus on her. Well, it's 2024."Augie's owner answered slowly.The blonde woman's face twisted and went slack.She mouthed the numbers silently.But… One of the boys started.
There was a noise as he stood up from his chair and Augie turned to look, the camera focusing on the two boys.Don't, Kyle.Dad said that it would start happening.Corey sat looking down at the man on the couch.I said don't.
Their mother said that she sounded defeated.But he did it, Mom.We don't know that.She could be lying.I'm not.Augie's owner interjected quickly.What year do you think it is?It's... The boys started to answer.Stop.
Their mother said, at this time more forcefully.Why?Kyle asked, his voice a whine.Because I said so.But it's... Both of you leave, go, right now, to the beds.Why, what did we do?Just go, Kyle, now."
There was a shuffling noise as both of the boys seemed to obey.The woman moved to take the seat closest to the man on the couch.There was a long silence.The only sound in the camera was Augie's unnervous breathing.
There's a war, the blonde woman said abruptly. Auggie's owner asked haltingly.The blonde woman didn't answer.The woman snorted and then barked out a laugh, and then another until it shifted into something indiscernible from a sob.
She wiped her face at her runny nose. Another long beat of silence, and then, they tore it open.She said, almost too soft to hear.Tore what open?Everything.Life itself.Life itself?What the hell?
I don't- I'm not trying to make trouble if you show me where the exit is, or just let us go back to the caves.They're trying to fix it.The scientists that are left.My husband was one of them, but he came back to us.
He says there's no solution, only a way out.Do you mean the cave?We can all go if you want, it's..." She took a deep breath."...it's not an easy trip, but I can show you."The blonde woman ignored her, bending down to kiss her husband's forehead.
As she leaned, her hair moved, revealing her neck. It was like looking at the middle of an autopsy.The back of her spine, visible above the collar of her sweatshirt, was mottled with bruises.
In the center, blackened skin looked as if it was being burned in real time.Blood and pus leaked out of the wound, staining the fabric.It looked like bone was peeking from the places where the skin had given out.We can't go.
The blonde woman said quietly, still leaning over her husband's prone body.It seemed as if Augie's owner saw what I saw, at least enough of it to add a tremble of desperation to her voice.Okay, I understand.What about if we just go, me and my dog?
She shifted in her chair.Please.Were you one of the ones that he was talking to?Did you know?The blonde woman asked quietly. I… what?No, I have no idea what you're talking about.He said that he made contact… before it… She took a shuddering breath.
No, it doesn't matter.They're destroying the whole thing.It's not worth it, they said.Not worth losing it all.Listen, I don't know what you're talking about.Please.She stopped, cut off by the sound of the shotgun's safety.
Augie, sensing the tension, made a small growl of warning. What's the camera for then?The camera?The one on the dog.Yeah, that big one right there.She gestured towards Augie.There was silence.I had forgotten about it.
It's just something that I bought online for fun.Sure.The blonde woman scoffed.Suddenly there was a rustling and they both turned to the man on the couch.Mike?The blonde woman had asked, laying a hand on his head. Another rustling noise.
The blonde woman started to wail. The man shuddered as if having a seizure, and then a deep red stain bloomed on the top of the sheet.
It rose almost like the man was starting to sit up, but his head remained still, shaking as if being pulled by puppet strings.The sheet continued to rise almost comically, like a classic Halloween ghost.
The blonde woman shot up out of her chair and fell to the ground, clattering.She pointed the shotgun towards her husband, towards the rising white sheet.One of the boys distantly called. The sheet fell to the ground.
For a split second, there was something there, something long, twisted and bony, dripping with viscera.It unfurled, like the body of the man was a cocoon, and possibly its face unfolded from the air itself.
It was large, featureless as a buffalo skull, but slick and grayish, like it had been pulled from the ocean. Its lower limb strained awkwardly as if it was something freshly born, clinging to the rubbery flesh that it was attached to.
The blonde woman was sobbing hard, too hard.The shotgun slipped to the floor and she scrambled to the ground to try to retrieve it.The man's empty skin slipped to the ground as the last of the bony, rotating limbs ripped itself free.
And the moment the last part of the creature left the man's body, it disappeared, like it was never there. I rewound the footage and paused it, just to make sure that I didn't miss something in the shaky footage.
Augie was moving his head back and forth between the chaos, but nothing had changed.One second the creature was there and the next it was nothing. At this point, the blonde woman seemed to truly panic.
She moved wildly in a circle, the gun arcing in a shivering orbit.The lights overhead flickered.Augie's owner took advantage of the other woman's distraction.She bolted out of the chair, grabbed his harness, and pulled him towards the door.
Augie was growling the sound so deep that the camera shook.He dug down, resisting being pulled for as long as he could, and then they raced to the doorway.
The two boys who must have been drawn by the noise stood together there, eyes wide with terror.The woman and Augie ran past them down the hallway and back towards the storeroom they came in.
In the flickering lights, the crack in the walls seemed thinner than when they first came through.The woman ran to it.Augie lingered in the doorway looking down the dark hallway and growling.The lights went out, leaving them in total darkness.
The woman whispered.The dog stared down the black hallway.For a long moment, there was silence, and then blood-curdling shrieks.The camera jerked back.The woman pulled Augie's harness, forcing him from the hallway.
In a crush of moving limbs, she pulled him through the crack in the wall.For a few agonizingly long minutes, the footage was completely washed out, punctuated only by heavy breathing.And then a close-up of the woman's tense face, bloodshot red eyes.
She turned the flashlight on, held near her chin, and she was shaking.I'm sorry, Augie. The woman sat, reaching out a hand to pet the dog.The sentence was laden with a tangle of emotion.There was a skittering noise, a distant rock falling.
Augie turned to look at it, and then there was a scream, the sound of something hitting the ground hard. When the camera focused on her again, the woman was on her stomach, hands grasping the dirt.
She still held her phone and the light skittered on the cave walls.She dug her fingers in so hard one of her nails came off, blood seeping out.But she was pulled quickly and forcefully, again and again.
The crack in the wall was, against all reason, getting smaller, contracting impossibly fast.
Something pulled at her legs one last time and she was out of the cave until only her bloody nails were visible, barely clinging to the sides of the hole, and then those were gone too.
Augie stared at the now closed wall like he couldn't understand what had happened.He winded and pawed at the slim line where the hole was.The wall shook hard. The dog jumped back, watching small rocks shudder on the ground.
It shook again like something was beating against it.Augie turned and started running, frantically navigating back out into the cave system.
He wandered his way through the darkness in a blind run through passages that seemed smaller, seemed to be contracting just like the hole.
After it felt like an eternity but was only about an hour, the cave system seemed inexplicably shorter than before.Guided by what must have been sent, Augie discovered a barely visible break in the wall.
Once again he emerged, but not into the open canyon where he had started.It was a dark and cluttered space.It took me a moment to recognize what it was, as his head frantically searched the room.My breath caught in my throat.It was a basement.
It was my basement. Augie climbed into a pile of boxes and leaped towards the small window at the top of the wall.
He squeezed through the rusted latch and through the narrow opening, his body contorting with effort as he pushed himself out into the night.He sat panting in the middle of the yard.
Just a few minutes later, the last footage was me, standing in my pajamas in the back doorway.
I don't know how long I sat at the table staring at the dark screen trying to process, but I know as soon as I came to I ran, socks sliding against the tile whipping open the door to the basement, flicking on the light switch and bounding on the steps toward a dime.
Augie must have woken up because I could hear his claws clicking behind me.I flew past towers of cardboard boxes, past all the other crap that I meant to throw away years ago, and then I looked at the far corner.
There was a crack in the wall, one that hadn't been there before.A small one, not big enough for a dog to fit through, especially not one as big as Augie.But there was a spray of churned rust-colored earth around it.
I thought of the footage from the camera of the woman's hands disappearing behind the crack.Behind me, Augie started to growl.And so yeah, we got the hell out of there.And I still have a chair against the door just in case.
Not that I'm even sure that would help. I haven't decided what to do with the video yet.I think I need more time to think it through.
I started searching local news sites and social media for any mentions of a missing woman with a dog, and then I broadened my search when I realized I couldn't be certain it even happened in Colorado.
And then I thought, it could have been a movie, some student film made before I even bought the house.When I moved in there was shit in the basement, maybe it was a prank and somebody had lowered him over the fence.
And then I had another thought that was even stranger, and bear with me because I know how insane it sounds, but I couldn't really even be sure that it was our reality to begin with.
Whatever was going on down in those caves, if it was real, who's to say that they didn't go missing from another reality altogether?On one hand, it seemed pretty real.
The continuous footage, the way that Augie looked when he came here, the crack in my basement wall.On the other hand, while I think that's obvious, the implications defy the laws of reality. Regardless of what's real, I love Augie.
He's an awesome dog and he fit right into my life.He keeps me company through the day, goes on runs with me, and has a ton of personality.I'm not really in the market to post flyers for.I don't even know who would be looking for him.
A film student from the local college.A government agency.Whoever might know more about whatever that whole thing was. He has episodes at times, that's what I've started thinking of them as anyway.
The times when he stares at a place where the shadows are thick, in the corner of a room or in a dark spot between the trees when we're out on a walk, and the hair raises on his back and he starts growling, warding off bad memories maybe.
But it makes me think of all the other times people swear their animal sees something they can't.I think about the creature that seemed to just disappear, the mother's gaunt, listless face.They tore it open.
I always make sure to give Augie extra head scratches and a few more treats to make him feel better, or maybe to let him know to keep up the good work. All in all, I do know one thing for certain.I don't live alone anymore.
I heard a strange radio broadcast called The Rules of the Road.I shouldn't have listened.Written by C.B.Jones. I don't get out of the house much these days.I just don't feel like it.
Whatever it is that makes you want to go out and about and be around other people, I guess I don't have it anymore. My mom, when I actually do answer her calls, says it sounds like depression, but I guess everybody has that these days.
Certainly seems like it's from what I see online, and I spend a lot of time online.Of course, maybe that's just, um, what do you call it?A selection bias.All of us depressives hold up in our rooms, plugging into places and realities far from our own.
Anywhere is better than here.Sharing with everybody else how depressed we are because why wouldn't we? but it's not like I even share anymore.
My day-to-day experience has become a slow and steady quicksand of routine, a drudgery slowly smothering me.I've quit trying to break out of this cycle a long time ago.
Working 40-50 hours as a convenience store clerk was the extent of my getting out of the house.It was nothing too taxing aside from standing all day, which I had gotten used to,
From there, I would make the half-mile trek back to my cheap apartment, walking past various fast food establishments that would oftentimes provide my dinner.
Down the alley with its meth heads on bikes, digging through the dumpsters, me clutching my fast food bag or my pizza box, sometimes offering a slice or a taco which they only took half the time because they were often far from hungry and only wanted cash.
Up the stairs past these smoky neighbors who never say hi or really acknowledge me, and it's there in the living room where I park on the couch and veg out on Netflix and eat until I'm well past uncomfortable.
I then lie back onto the wrapper and napkin-stuffed cushions, the tower of hot and ready boxes teetering on the armrest.
I stare at the ceiling until the discomfort passes and I feel at least motivated enough to get up and over to my desktop where I while away the hours until exhaustion takes me.Day in and day out, it's like this.
Towards the end of each workday, dread takes a hold.I get anxious at the thought of going back to that dark and empty apartment and all of the time I will have to kill.In the morning, the reverse is true.
Paranoia overtakes me and I fear what it will be like to show up at my job, that I will have forgotten how to interact with people, that people will stare at the awful waste of space that I become.
Lately, I've considered looking into applying for some sort of disability.I mean, if it is depression, then I have an excuse, right?
But most days, it seems like my job is the only thing keeping me tethered to reality, and I fear that if I quit, I would completely lose what little grip on reality that I still have.
The prescription bottle full of antidepressants winks up at me daily from the bathroom counter. I've tried once before, more times than that, even in my youth, but they didn't take.
In fact, they hold the opposite effect and almost send me inpatient, so I'm scared of trying more even though the doctor says it can take a while to find the right medication. This lifestyle of mine has taken a toll on my body.
My knees hurt during my shift, I have had to upsize my work shirts.There are calluses on my wrist and elbow from where I rest them on the desk, the mouse, the keyboard.
I also think that I might be developing a cyst on my butt or something from sitting so long.There's a tenderness back there, a swelling. What can I do about the pathetic state of my mental and physical health?
I can only get more depressed whenever I think about it too long, how far I've slid.I avoid mirrors as much as possible and forget even stepping on a scale. I'm only getting worse.I don't even react to the videos that I watch.
It's like I've forgotten how.Instead, I just watch reaction videos, somebody reacting for me.And there's me staring blankly at it all, a reaction to the reaction.I don't tweet anymore, I don't do Discord.
All the message boards that I used to hang out in have long since died. It used to be that I would actually game.Now I don't even do that.I just watch others do it.Twitch streams and YouTube highlights.So many rabbit holes to get lost in.
It doesn't even really matter the content.I think I'm largely just there for that fleeting human interaction.The feeling that I'm not totally and utterly alone. It's a night like any other.The meal of the day is a 1500 calorie surplus from Taco Bell.
I doomscroll through Twitter for a bit while I chew my food with only the ghost of a taste present.Before I even really know it, the food is consumed, only a few sips of Baja Blast remaining.
My desk chair groans under the weight of my body and I fire up my PC.I see if anybody's on Twitch because I prefer live streams when I can.Because yeah, I don't feel as alone when it's live.
There's a whole chatroom full of people on the side, talking in real time, and there was a time when I would join in the conversation.I ignore the call from my mom, but I text her back and tell her that I had a long day and that I would be in touch.
There's a handful of streamers that I follow regularly.Lately, they've been taking to the more fast-paced FPS.They're Valorants and such.This has led me going to my old Reliables, streamers with much smaller followings.
It's more intimate that way, I guess.This one chick I like is usually playing older stuff. She has a real soothing voice and calls herself the patient gamer.Dark eyeliner and thick glasses.
Total goth chick vibes and I'd be lying if I said I didn't have a little crush on her.Even though she says that she's a lesbian.But whatever, I don't say anything creepy to her.I don't say anything at all.
Tonight she's got a playthrough of Life is Strange going on, some game I remembered playing and enjoying when I used to care about such things.I don't remember finishing it and the screen she's on is foreign to me.
It's just two girl characters moving around some seaside looking place, talking to a guy outside a camper trailer. Are you still with me, Jacob?The patient gamer asks me.I jump up with a start.That's my name, is she talking to me?I mean, surely not.
Hello?She asks, and she's looking directly at the camera, somehow staring into my eyes.With my mouth dry, I manage to say, me?Listen, she whispers.
Her eyes go blank, like she's staring into space and the screen starts to glitch, frames stuttering, her head and face jerking.Jaw ratcheting open through the skipping video, her mouth widens into an impossible gap.
A high-pitched sound of feedback comes from the black void of her slack-jawed mouth, out of my computer speakers. Nobody comments as she starts retching and gagging there on the screen.Awful wet sounds that make me gag.
The jugular veins on her neck are fat and swollen blue.Her throat bobs as something white emerges from deep within her.It's a loudspeaker, square-shaped and something that you would see mounted on a pole outside somewhere.
Static crackles from the speaker and I'm paralyzed to my chair, unable to click away, unable to shut my ears. A voice starts talking, fills my room with noise, fills my head with fear.
It's not the tone of voice, which is some cowboy sounding old man straight from some old school radio sketch.It's what he's saying.
Howdy folks, we interrupt your usual programming on this fine and dandy evening with a very special edition of The Rules of the Road.Now you know we talk a lot about roads here on the program.
Back roads and dirt roads and rough roads, interstates and freeways, highways and byways.Well, tonight we're going to talk about a particular kind of highway that we all know a little too well.The highway can enlighten and enthrall.
The highway can educate and miss a norm.This highway can reprogram and reinforce. This highway can lead you down some dark paths, leave you sitting alone in your room in the dark at 3 a.m., and wondering just what it is you're doing with your life.
This highway can be just plain mean.Now you might ask, what in God's name highway are you talking about, Bucky?It must be something going through Dallas now, right?Why, no, I'm not talking about anything as dangerous as a Dallas road.
I'm talking about the information superhighway.That's right, cyberspace.The internet, the big ol' series of tubes, the World Wide Web.And oh, what a tangled web it is.The world's only gotten smaller since its inception.
With each technological leap, our walls are closing on in.I bet you're finding less and less reason to leave the house these days.Got the world at your fingertips. Don't even have to have a face-to-face conversation with a single soul.
And isn't it great?All that power, all that information, all the collective memory of recent history.I bet scrolling on that you might get a taste of what it's like to be in my shoes.Ah, you wish.
Compared to where I've been and what I've seen, the access that I've been granted, the internet is little more than a few pages of a phone book. Maybe y'all should sign up for my service provider sometime.It sure is something.
Anyhow, on to tonight's Rule of the Road.
If at any point during your journey through the interwebs, you discover some schmuck in the comments section trying to sell you on a load of horse feathers, then you must respond to their comment with a few specific words.
Now I'll get to what those words are here in a minute.I just want to make sure that we're all on the same page. Now you know the type of feller I'm talking about.It's the obviously fake commenter looking to scam you in some form or fashion.
It's always Mike Whiskey in New Jersey and he's just won the lottery and he's feeling extra generous and wants you to contact him with your info so that he can spread the wealth a little.
Or it's Janet Pfeiffer from Grand Rapids and she's making 6,500 bucks a month working from home as a stay-at-home mom and she wants to tell you how you can do it too. I believe the first part is getting knocked off, but I digress.
Okay, so now the next step is to respond to the scheming scammer you must respond with.Hey, that's very interesting, but your money's no good here.They will eventually respond with a website link.You must go to that website.
You must watch the grainy black and white video within.You must bear witness and feel the sinking feeling down at the bottom of your stomach, your rising heart rate, a mixtape of the worst moments of your life.
Lick the screen and taste the salt of their tears through the glass, but you already have.It's a taste you will always be familiar with. Now I know what you're gonna say.You're gonna say, oh Bucky, it's Internet Safety 101.
You never engage with these devils.They'll hack your information, steal your identity.Your car's gonna get repoed.You'll have to declare bankruptcy, and before you know it, you'll be living under a bridge with a brand new name.
Your cat won't even recognize you.No way am I going to respond to these yahoos.And to that I say, Fair enough.But if you don't, well, these so-called yahoos might pay you a little visit.And I must warn you, they don't take kindly to being ignored.
Well, that's all I got for tonight.Hope y'all are doing well out there.Hope you remember to blink every now and then and stretch your necks and adjust your seated position so that you don't get a bed sore.
Why don't you step out and get some fresh air?Actually, better rethink that. It is a scary world out there, much safer online.If you're not out on the road, the rules can't getcha, ain't that right?Stay alert, stay lively, stay lonely.
I'm Buck Hensley, and these are the Rules of the Road. The screen flickers.So, I'm gonna go over to this room.The patient gamer says, staring at her computer screen.Her mouth is back to normal, the chatroom flows on with innocuous comments.
Nobody's mentioning the fact that her jaw unhinged with her chin on her chest and her forehead staring at the ceiling.A speaker jutting out of her mouth.I close the browser, push my chair away from the computer.
Outside of my little porch of the upstairs landing, I lean on the railing and stare out at the quiet parking lot for a very long time. Because of where I'm posting this, you can probably guess what happened next.
The next few days passed without incident, and it wasn't until the weekend that I saw anything.Most of the time, I was avoiding the comment sections like the plague, averting my eyes during video game streams.I quit watching the patient gamer.
I couldn't stand to look at her and revisit that memory of her hideous, outstretched mouth.I mean, what if it happened again? I'm watching some bloke doing a half-like Black Mesa playthrough when I see it.
The comments and the chatter scrolling by with the usual stuff.Slayer91 says, One shot, you must got it on easy mode.Bananagram keeps begging the streamer to autosave saying, You're just showing off at this point.
And then a user known as JoelKicks37 types out, You've been selected.Want $100 to Costco to spend on back to school supplies?Click here.My initial thought is to close everything down and just leave, but I'm in this thing now.I have to respond.
I at the Joel guy and I type out what I'm supposed to.I tell him it's all very interesting, but that his money is no good here, and JoelKicks37 responds to me with a winky face.He follows this up with a link to a website.
It's some obscure jumble of letters and numbers, but it's a definite clickable hyperlink.The mouse is slick with sweat under my palms.I hover over the link, ready to click. Click it.Joel kicks 37 types out.And I do.
A media player window fills my screen.There's a big triangle at the center, the universal signal for play.Snowy static swarms over my computer monitor.
My living room is filled with the flickering dreamy analog glow of a cathode television on a defunct channel.And then the images start to play.Impossible images. Nobody ever had a camera with them when these things happened, but it's like they did.
The voices, the images, the sounds.They're all accurate.The phantom cameraman whooping the camera's eye around, getting up close and personal with anyone and everyone.A highlight reel of the worst moments of my life.
The mama bird flapping around the nest frantically, her chirps strained with distress.
The naked pink baby bird with the solid blue eye, mouth gaping as the life was squeezed out of it, but kept alive long enough to be placed in a half-full Gatorade bottle. Me not saying anything, not even trying, nothing worse than a bystander.
Head dipped low in the cyan fluid, membranous wings stretched taut over flexing bones as if it could just take off at any moment, as if it ever even knew how to fly.And I guess it did have one first and final flight.
The bottle was punted to the other end of the field where it disappeared into the brush. The way his laughter had an edge to it, an edge as sharp enough to cut a wound so deep that it took years to fill it in and forget.Why couldn't I have saved it?
Why couldn't I have tried?Oh. The grass on the back of my head and the rough fingertips with the bitten down nails prying my eyelids open.My eyes staring up at the autumn blue sky because they had no choice but to do otherwise.
Getting irritated and dry and begging for moisture when maybe they should have begged for something else.Because the moisture, it was coming.
His cracked, chapped lips he was always biting, pursed out, the phlegm oozing in slow motion towards my pried open eye.
The other heads clunking together to get in on the action, shoulders and hair pressed up close in a huddle, unable to scream because if I opened my mouth, I guess for all that saliva would end up.And then I was somewhere else.
The smell of mothballs and Lysol and shit and piss.The weathered old hands, devoid of any padding or life, papery skin draped over every visible tendon and blue vein.
While my mom stared out the nursing home window with tears in her eyes, they reached out from under the quilt, blindly groping for anyone, and she found my wrist.
I saw my own frightened face for the first time, saw all over again but from different angles.The rasping, toothless mouth flapping at me in a dying fish, death now delirium.Finally an escape. They said that I would find my own people in college.
The lecture hall was full of strange faces and they all seemed to be staring at the camera as it made its way down the aisle.No seats here.Keep it moving, buddy.That's what their faces told me.
The panic rising up in my throat and my heart racing as I had to excuse myself to sit in a stall in the public restroom into the past.And it only happened each and every day. They told me that they didn't take attendance in college.
I just had to show up for the test and that I would be fine.I could study on my own.I holed up in my dorm room for days and never talking to a live human for long stretches of time.
Academic probation and second chances until I finally withdrew and went back to my mom's house defeated.Tears are streaming down my face and I'm dry heaving sobs between my fingers.I know what's coming and I don't want to see.
A few kids, up to no good, but nothing too illegal.Just some firecrackers in the vacant lot where we used to play.The bottle rockets and the Pringles can seemed harmless at the time, all bark and no bite.
Staccato explosions bouncing harmlessly off the dirt.Until the wind caught the cigarette lighter's flame and whipped it back onto my thumb and I yelped and flailed my arms, knocking the can down at an angle and the fuse lit.
The rocket fired toward the neighborhood. The roofs of all those houses and we ran away in mischievous glee, like nothing could ever catch us.
The camera moves down an empty street in a quiet afternoon, its operator breathing heavily into the microphone.Off in the distance you can hear sirens, huge billows of smoke roll out of the small wood-framed house, orange flame licking the roof.
The fire roars and rafters fall and sparks fly.I can't take it anymore.I pick up my computer screen and I hurl it across the room, its core dragging the tower halfway across the desk before it disconnects itself.
It doesn't matter, it doesn't matter, it doesn't matter. That's what I tell myself as I pound my head on the desk, smearing my tears and snot all over the surface.
I'm referring to the facts as presented on the impossible video recording, what I couldn't watch.I'm referring to the fact that I didn't follow the rule to completion.
I'm referring to the entirety of my miserable existence, whether I keep breathing or not. It doesn't matter, it doesn't matter, it doesn't matter.
And just then, when I'm at my lowest point, when the elevator of my panic sinks into the deepest pits of my despair, when I feel like I'm coming out of my skin, when I want to plunge the fingers of both my hands into the depths of my mouth, pull as hard as I can in opposite directions, rip myself in half, and rip myself out of this world, just then, there's a knock at the door.
I need your help, guys.Should I answer it? It's innocuous at first.It's the shave and a haircut of polite wrapping knuckles.Yet soon it grows more insistent.The meaty thought of someone hammering away with the side of their clenched fist.
Instinct is to run back to my bedroom or bathroom and shut the door.Cower until it just goes away.It has to be a coincidence.The knocking continues.My tears recede and my cheeks dry.
I look over my shoulder toward the front door and rub my nose with the back of my hand. There's no harm in looking through the peephole, is there?As much as I would hate to, I can always call the cops if I get too worried.
Maybe it's one of the meth heads.I start toward the door and push my face to the hole.There's a man out there, past middle-aged.
He's wearing a button-up vacation-type short-sleeved shirt, khaki shorts, white socks sprout from his white tennis shoes and up his calves. The porch light is on and the bugs hover around.
They flutter drunkenly past his bald head and bounce off of his face, but he doesn't swat at them.He just stands there with a frozen toothy grin, staring.He pounds on the door again. I outweigh him at least.
There's a softball bat within reaching distance from the front door.I had bought it after the apartment manager had reported some break-ins.I open the front door just to crack.His eyes light up when he sees me.
He says with wooden looking teeth and his mouth stays fixed in that grin, but just kind of flaps enough for the words to come out.Like he's a ventriloquist dummy.His voice sounds like a chain smoking Sesame Street characters.Um, can I help you?
I ask.Yes, I believe you saw my message several times over the past month.I was following up on that.He says. His lips are a maroon color, and with the door open I can see that his skin is pale white, covered in some type of powdery makeup.
The thick lines and wrinkles of his face are spared, somehow looking even more noticeable through the dusted white.Simply put, he looks ghastly, his eyes wet and shiny from sunken craters.Message?I ask.Oh yes, online.
I know that you've had to have seen it. You're on there quite a bit.I think you've got the wrong guy.I say and step back.I think of slamming the door in his face, but his foot is inched into the threshold.
I just want to ease out of this situation with as little confrontation as possible. It's not a big deal.I just need you to fill out these surveys and you'll qualify for a $250 Amazon gift card.He says, holding up a stack of papers.I'm good, I say.
Come on, it's $250.No scam.Everybody always thinks that, but I can assure you it's legit.Just a simple survey and we mail you the gift card. I notice that he has a smear of barbecue or tomato sauce at the corner of his lip.
Do you routinely do this so late at night?I ask.I don't know, do you routinely eat so much disgusting fast food?
He says back, looking over my shoulder and into my living room, the crumpled up bags peeking out from under the couch, the tower of pizza boxes.God, how do you live like that, you absolute slob?His voice drops an octave at the last words.
For the first time in our conversation, he's no longer smiling.His eyebrows have dropped down.He glares, and I'm scared all over again.I want him gone.Whatever, I say and take the papers out of his hands, bark goodnight to him, and slam the door.
Looking through the peephole, I see him skipped down the stairs.He disappears into the dark of the parking lot, the top of his pale, bald head, the last thing that I see. I frisbee the stack of papers onto the pizza boxes.
Swear that tomorrow I'm gonna finally clean up the piles of trash that have infiltrated my living room. Every night he comes.Most nights I ignore him.He eventually leaves, but it can take hours of knocking and pounding.
I've even caved and filled out a couple of the surveys.A long, arduous task of answering questions of whether or not I've heard of specific brands or companies.There are questions asking me to rank on a scale from 1 to 5.
How will I like Charm and Ultra Soft? One particular question stands out to me.Buried within so many other innocuous questions, it asks, does the sweet bite of Mountain Dew sufficiently distract you from your greatest sin?I write down an A.
Filling out the surveys isn't enough to deter him, he always takes them with a smile and thanks me profusely.But the next night he's back, and I never get my Amazon gift cards either and when I ask, the creepy little man plays dumb.
He doesn't get any less creepy no matter how many times he shows up, still has that same wooden smile and still looks like his head has been dredged in flour. In fact, he actually is starting to look even more ghoulish with each visit.
The lines in his face deeper, his eyes more sunken, lips wetter. I tell the property manager about the strange visitor and he simply shrugs.Nobody else has reported him, he's not harming the property now is he?
Look, if you want I can put up some no soliciting signs or you can make your own and tape it to your door.But of course, the sign goes disregarded.He's out there banging away the night that I put it up.
I open the door and I tell him to please leave me alone.Excuse me, would you like to fill out a consumer survey to receive a $250 Amazon gift card in the mail?He asks and I scream, get out, get out. No reaction, not even a blink.
A trace of drool oozes out of the corner of his mouth and it's thick and viscous and hangs in the air forever like it's made of glue.Fine, give me your survey, I scream.
I've got a lighter this time and I laugh manically as I burn it up right there on the porch.Thank you for your time, he says and he skips down the stairs.
Later, I'm sitting on the commode, my elbows resting on my bare knees in the closest that I ever get to a daily act of meditation, and a stack of paper slides under the bathroom door.It's a questionnaire, a survey.In a rush, I open the door.
I halfway lean out in an effort to shield my below-the-waist nakedness, and I look down the hall.No one is there. Sir, are you aware that this is the third time you've called, and that we've sent an officer out both times and no threat was found?
Yeah, but it took over two hours for anybody to show up.He was long gone by that point.So, are you requesting another officer tonight?Have you talked with the property manager? Yes, and yes.Do you have any evidence of this alleged trespasser?
A name, or surveillance footage, or maybe you've taken a picture of him the last time that he was there, like with your phone?I tried that and it came out all squiggly, like it was a scribble of a person.
He must be wearing some sort of camera blocker, something that scrambles the phone's signal or lens or something.
Hmm, and this is the same guy, the one from the dark web or something, that came about because you didn't follow a rule from a rogue broadcast on your video game stream.Yeah, I know how it sounds.
If the responding officer has reason to suspect that you are experiencing paranoia and are a danger to yourself or others, then there is a possibility that you could be detained under an emergency order for a mental health evaluation.
Are you aware of this? I am now.So I ask again, do you need us to send an officer?I think I'll be fine.Okay then, call us if you need us.Good night.It's gotten to where I'm scared of closed doors.
If the door's already open, there can't be a knock, right?I know shit with the bathroom door open, a development in a long line of developments and a life of solitude that I suppose was inevitable.
For the next few days, I sit in my living room with the front door wide open.The fresh air is actually kind of nice.I don't know why I didn't do this more often.
Through some furniture rearranging, my computer desk is now angled so it's facing the door. I keep one eye on my screen and the other on the doorway.The soft ball bat rests on the floor by my feet at the ready.For several days, he doesn't come.
It's like I'm daring him to appear there.Eventually, I let my guard down, get more absorbed in my videos, stare at the screen with both eyes. There's a flicker of movement in my periphery.
He stands at the threshold smiling, papers clutched in his hand.Evening, he says in that awful voice.Get the heck out, I yell, pointing the bat at him like I'm Babe Ruth calling my shot.
Can I interest you in an Amazon gift card for the simple task of filling out an easy survey? He continues unphased.I'm standing up and crossing the living room.Or perhaps you would like a hell of a deal on some life insurance.
You know, she wished that she had had that when the polyester nightgown melted to her skin. You should have seen the way it bubbled and merged with her thigh.The way it peeled off.
The softball bat clings off his bald head and he doesn't even raise his arms in a defensive posture and just lets it come.He's a puppet.He's not real.We're all puppets.
and he sinks down to the landing of my balcony porch, the blow still striking his head and neck and shoulders.But you should let me finish, he tries to say through busted lips and broken teeth.
But I keep swinging, blinded by an insane fury, the front of his head crumpling in.The aluminum bat rings off concrete and vibrates my arms.It's just me out on the porch, swinging away at the empty ground.
My neighbors lean out on the balcony railing, looking over at me with strange looks on their faces.
There's a thin girl with dusky skin and dirty blonde hair and dark circled eyes, and a stocky guy with a flat billed baseball cap and a chinstrap beard. You alright, bro?"the guy asks.I look around frantically.
He was just right here, there's no trace of him now, not even a drop of blood.It must have been a hell of a spider.I live and let live with these little things, but you do you.They help with the roaches, you know. I know what it has to be.
I've reached a tipping point with my mental health.I can't be sure of anything.All that self-isolation at home and minimal human interaction, it's finally driven me insane.
It must be some sort of depersonalization, derealization disorder, and now I'm finally hallucinating things.People from the internet.People from the internet are all that I ever know anymore, only natural that they would start to manifest.
Maybe I do need to be taken in.I haven't gone into work in six days.I've simply no-called, no-showed, and I've had 17 missed calls from them and 21 missed texts.
The only allowance I've made myself is that I've responded to just enough texts from my mom so that she doesn't contact the police for a wellness check on me.
If I were to hear them knock on the door and respond in all the ways that I have to my current knocking tormentors, the outcome would likely be disastrous.
But it doesn't matter because he's quit knocking on the front door ever since the softball bat incident. From a bedroom window he raps on the glass, that grinning face in the dark.His voice calls to me from the air vents.Soon it's not just him.
Soon the others start to come too. A dry, raspy voice whispers from the drain in my kitchen sink.I lean my head closer.The whispering continues.Boost your credit score with these six simple tricks.Just write your social security number on a receipt.
Slide it down the drain. I poke a chopstick down the drain and meet a spongy resistance, something that pushes back.The chopstick clatters in the sink as I jump back like I just touched a hot stove. One knock on the door is a guy in a tailored suit.
It's late when he comes and his sunglasses are darker than the dead night around us.It doesn't matter that he's wearing sunglasses at night like that old song.It doesn't matter because I'm willing to bet there's nothing behind those shades.
Empty eye sockets are endless voids into black nothingness, I'm sure. "'Sup, dude," he says."'I'm offering some exclusive secrets on crypto, and I need you to not pass up on this offer.'"'Um,' I say.
"'Look, I can understand your skepticism, but look at you.'He gestures toward me and then back to himself."'Now look at me.With crypto, my future's so bright that I gotta wear shades.'
I am mildly intrigued by the appearance of this new individual, but yeah, it's more spam stuff.So far, these things haven't ever touched me.At the moment, this new development is nothing more than a novelty in it.Who are you supposed to be?
The spam commenter of Christmas Future, I ask.Hey, he says, chill it with the wise guy stuff.
Last time I looked, I'm the guy swimming Scrooge McDuck style in the currency of the future, and you're the fatso in his apartment eking out a pathetic existence.Do you really want to live this way?Come with me and I'll show you the way."
His voice trails off and he looks off into some other realm to the left of my doorway. What do you need?I sigh.I need an investment of $250.He says and an inky black liquid is dripping down his cheeks from somewhere behind his sunglasses.
It runs into his mouth and he smacks his lips, his pearly white teeth turning shiny gray from it. You need my real money to invest in your fake money, I ask.It's all fake money, he says and the black liquid drips off his chin without him noticing.
His flashy haircut is swooped back into an impossible tower on his head and I think I see something peeking out from that mass of golden hair.A beak or a spider leg. While I'm out of a job, I'm gonna need all the fake money I can get.
Where we're going, we don't need jobs.Isn't that what you want?All the time in the world to mess around on the internet.All that time for escape.Has it worked for you yet? Has what worked?What you're currently doing to get away from yourself.
I can offer you a true escape.Escape from that little secret of yours.The awful person that you've become.With enough money you can rebuild yourself into someone that doesn't feel sorry for themselves.Just let me in and we'll get this thing going.
I'm not ready yet, I say.Think about it.He says and slides his middle finger under his sunglasses, pulls something out and hands it to me.It's a business card. All that's on it are a few words and languages and symbols that I've never seen.
He flashes deuces at me, gives a nod, and saunters off down the steps and into the night.
They are relentless, the spam ghosts that leave notes scattered around my house, that write their offers in the dust and grime of my kitchen countertops and furniture.
There are flyers that appear from nowhere with promises of supplements that can make me bigger and increase my stamina.From my fridge, a muffled feminine voice tells me that hot local singles are in my area.
Open the door and a lingerie-clad woman folded in on herself and shivering topples out.
She can't be taller than 4'2 and she flops around on the floor like a fish, stares at me with glassy eyes, flapping her mouth and making this popping noise with her lips. I scream and stagger backwards out of the room.
She's gone in an instant like she was never even there.Maybe she wasn't.
There was the man in the mechanic's overalls with the expressionless face and glazed over plastic eyes of a crash test dummy who warned me of my vehicle's expired warranty, who said that it could be fixed if only I gave him a vial of my blood.
The rusty needle entered my vein and my blood swirled into a green cylinder.
How could I forget the 50s housewife with a blood splattered apron and a butcher knife, and a black eye who said that it didn't matter that I no longer had my convenience store job, that I could make $3,000 a month from home if I signed up for her nifty calling service.
I slammed the door when she handed me a corded phone with a voice on it that hissed at me that ending myself would never be enough. What about the man in nothing but yellow briefs who offered a cure for all the pain in the world?
He was covered in sores and said that he had never been healthy.Said that I only had to drink from the brown bottle that he had wrapped in a brown paper bag.
He told me that the doctors hated him because of this knowledge and how he was cutting into their bottom line.Told me this as he picked a scab from his cheek and spit a broken tooth out into my apartment. And there were the voices.
Oh, there were the voices.They bounced around my apartment and into my ears and brain.Whispers in conversational volumes and angry shouts.
You are worthless and you deserve this and many people in much worse situations than yours have picked themselves up and dusted themselves off just fine.
Never in the history of man has somebody done so little with so much and it's because you're worthless. Oh, boo-hoo, you were bullied.Should have used the fighting tips contained in my pamphlet, how to be a confident alpha male.
Maybe it's not too late and just took three easy pavements of 1999 and the rotten tree stump in the vacant lot behind the apartment complex.You say you're shy and anxious around people.Baby, sack up, it's just sweaty palms and a racing heart rate.
There are people in the world that don't have clean water and you're worried about what?Somebody's gonna look at you funny or you're gonna say the wrong thing or stutter a little bit.Nobody cares and nobody even remembers you.
Nobody even thinks about you.Better yet, why don't you just stay in your apartment because you should be tucked away where nobody can see your fat, disgusting self. Because nobody's even going to miss you either way.
Jesus Christ, take a walk for Pete's sake.Download my podcast and learn how to not be such a loser.I yelled back to the voices and shut them up for a while.I covered my bedroom windows with tinfoil.
No faces could peer at me through the glass, and ditto for the bathroom mirror.
I put salt around every doorway and threshold and fingerpaint crucifixes with ketchup packets all over the walls of my apartment, cotton balls stuffed into my ears and wrapping my arms around my knees and rocking back and forth in the corner of my room with my overturned mattress as a barricade.
They'll never find me here.Peace at last.Famous last words. With my face buried into the dirty carpet, I try to smother the moans and cries of my overwhelming pain.My throat is dry and ragged from begging for the sweet release of it all.
Why don't I just leave, just walk out the door and get some help?I don't know.I've asked myself the same question and I can't come up with a good answer. I think it's because maybe I deserve this.I think it's because it all feels like a dream.
A nightmare, yeah, but something that I just have to let pass.Some forest keeps me from getting up and walking outside my front door and into the sunlight.It's not like this is an alien sensation.
I felt it time and time again, even when I was back working.On my days off when I stayed in bed all day and could not will myself to get up. With each day, I have less and less energy.I'm one step further from reality.
I'm a few frozen burritos and a couple of packets of ramen from having to leave my apartment.But I can't go outside.That's where they are. So, in my apartment, I suffer.I suffocate in the silence and solitude.
I suffuse into the carpet, unable to get up from the floor for hours.My stomach hurts.My body hurts.My head hurts.My skin hurts.I text my mom.I need some space right now.Getting help soon.I can't let her see me like this.I can't let her know.
I can't be a burden. I let my cell phone die and I don't get up to charge it because I don't get up at all.Not since I had chewed up half the bottle of antidepressants from my bathroom, passed out, and woke up in a pool of vomit.
My hair is a greasy, matted mess, grown long from the foreguard clipper trim that I usually do over the bathtub, the haircut that I haven't given myself in weeks.
My clothes have to reek, but I wouldn't know as I've long gone smell blind to the stench of the apartment and my filthy body. My stash in and out of the detritus of Chinese takeout and pizza boxes.
The last pizza I've ordered has sat on the porch for days, trampled by my frequent solicitors.Fine, fine, fine, I'll call 911 and tell them what's going on.I don't care if they come to take me away, lock me up in an institute.
I'm locked up here as it is.But yeah, the phone is dead and I can neither find the knowledge or energy to figure out how to get it charged. Footsteps walk around me, they pay me no mind.Maybe they know their work here is done.
Maybe they know that I'm too pitiful to even bother with.When you're so low, even the ghosts feel sorry for you.It sounds like a country song, I think and I chuckle out loud.
That chuckle is the tiny snowball that sets off an avalanche of hysterical laughter. My face doesn't know what to do with this foreign smile spreading across my cheeks.My ears can't register the sound of joyous laughter.I realize that I'm alive.
I'm alive.And if I'm still alive, then there's still a chance.I'm rising up from this filthy floor, up from this downward spiral, up from this bottomless pit.
I'm on my hands and knees about to push myself to my feet, and that's when I hear it coming down the wall.A high-pitched whine. The squeaky wheel from the little one-handed dolly that a green oxygen tank rides in behind her.
The ashy vision of her emerges from the shadows, a cherry ember glowing in the region of her face.A blast of cigarette smoke envelops me and I'm back down to the ground gagging and coughing.
It's like all of the smoke of a packed casino has filled the space of my apartment.The wine grows louder and she stands over me as I curl into a fetal position.I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.I beg.I'm too dehydrated for tears, though.
A charcoaled face leering into mine, plastic oxygen tubes snaking from her nose over the blackened, bubbled half of her face. a cigarette dangling from the burnt marshmallow lips.She gets closer and closer.
She doesn't say a word, just shoves me down with her non-burned hand with surprising ease and starts to push the cherry of the cigarette towards my face, stubs it out of my cheek.
I'm swiping and spasming, screaming, screw you, in cries that grow higher and higher pitched. You don't have to fight anymore," she says in a deep smoker's voice, Kathleen Turner gargling razor blades.
But then, in the voice of an angel, she says, it doesn't have to hurt anymore. Every nerve ending on my skin tingles with a pleasant sensation, divine goosebumps.
The end is beautiful, she says, the voice of an angel juxtaposed with the face of pure death.And suddenly I feel at peace.Okay, I say, and she reaches behind her and lifts the green oxygen canister above her head.
It doesn't take a rocket surgeon to figure out my impending fate. My head and face smashed with the tank until nothing is left but a bloody mess.I take a deep breath.The tank begins its rapid descent.I think of my mom.No note, no text, no nothing.
They interviewed a bunch of survivors that jumped off of the Golden Gate Bridge, and a common denominator among them was that during the plummet to the water below, they all started to feel regret.
This had all been a terrible mistake, they realized, and they would stop it if they could.But they couldn't.I'm not falling.I'm not a slave to the inevitability of gravity.I can crawl back through the air and back to the bridge.
It'll be like I never even jumped. I roll to my left and the tank slams on the carpet right beside my head.I'm squirming toward my front door, not even looking back.Behind me, she howls with rage.
Blustery clouds of cigarette smoke fill the apartment, whooping around in a gale-force wind, a nicotine-stained tornado. I'm on my knees and I'm on my feet, and I feel the tank pound into my hip as I struggle with the door.
Scorched, skeletal fingers tear at my shirt and I burst out into the night.I'm on my porch, panting and catching my breath, staggering, stumbling, tripping, falling, rolling down the first set of stairs and onto the landing. I don't even look back.
In the parking lot, someone or something clatters over by the dumpsters.A skinny guy with a bike is over there, and he's watching me.Hey, yo, you alright?The hell, looks like you've seen a ghost.I'm good, I say.
My legs feel weak as I take a few steps toward him.He seems normal, and it's not like I'm going to go back to my apartment at the moment. I walk over to him, and he's got a little trailer attached to his bike.
There's a bunch of junk in it, a plastic bag, wads of copper wire, his speaker, a black plastic Blu-ray player.What are you doing?I ask.I'm just scavenging, it's what I do, he says, nodding to the pole behind. Finding anything good?
It's hit or miss tonight, and garbage day's tomorrow, so I'm trying to find some treasures.Look man, this is gonna sound weird, but are you, I mean, do you have a home?Why are you offering up a place?
No, I'm just wondering if it's cool if I hang out here for a bit.I could help you or something.Old lady kick you out. He asks with a smile.He's missing one of his upper canines, a black gap in his grin.Yeah, something like that.
I'm not going back in there.I say gesturing at my apartment.A guy like you ain't you got some place to go?He sizes up my appearance and lets me adjust under the streetlight.He realizes that he's misjudged.Shit, you are looking rough.
Yeah, you can hang out. We make our way around the apartment complex, stopping off at the dumpsters.In the next few are bus, nothing of value or interest.He doesn't ask him any questions while he works, he's too focused on the task at hand.
His name is Bobby and he says that he's been living this way for a few years now. After this I follow him a couple of blocks down the alley to a vacant lot behind an auto repair shop.
At the back of the lot next to a fence is a tall grass surrounding a scraggly tree.A blue tarp hangs from a branch forming a makeshift tent.You sure you don't got nowhere to go?Bobby asks again.
I realize that my phone and wallets are back in my apartment.I'm not going back there tonight, I really don't have anywhere to go.Old lady said she'd call the cops, I say.Alright then, he says.He lies on a spread out sleeping bag behind the tarp.
I recline on a flattened out patch of grass with a dirty sweatshirt as a pillow.It's the soundest sleep that I can ever remember.My mind turns completely off as soon as my eyelids close.
No dreams and I awaken to bright sunlight and the roar of a lawnmower off in the distance. If there's no home or no apartment, then there's nothing to haunt, right?It's places that get haunted, not people.Or so this is what I've come to believe.
I finally did what you guys have been trying to get me to do, but maybe the spam ghosts have also been suggesting.I laughed. The night after my near demise, Bobby went into the apartment and got my phone and wallet and a garbage bag of clothes.
I let him take whatever was left that was salvageable, including my desktop, monitor, and TV, and we pawned it all and split the money. Bobby, he shows me the ropes of the lifestyle that he lives.
Shows me that you can get free breakfast over at Food and Shelter, powdered eggs, oatmeal, and toast for it.Bacon on Fridays, too.The only cost is having to have somebody read the Bible to you every now and then.
They have showers that they let us use, too. He doesn't stay in the same place for long and with some of the money we buy a couple of tents and sleeping bags and we move out to a large encampment down by the river under the large interstate bridge.
There's a community of sorts here, lots of crazies, lots of addicts and lots of drugs.Everybody down here is lost in some form or fashion, so I fit right in. Bobby, he tells me that he's clean.
I even attend an NA meeting with him one time, but I guess at the river he gets triggered and I see him duck off and hit a pipe on more than one occasion.He starts acting differently, always messing with his scavenge's junk.
He takes apart worthless electronics and puts them back together again, his hands tweaking the whole time.Soon he disappears and I don't see him for a long time.
There's music at night in campfires and sometimes somebody's grilling something and sometimes they share.Sometimes there's a case of beer for everybody to partake in.The hardcore people have their own hoarded jugs of liquor.
This guy Mudcat who stays a while, he catches several behemoth catfish with his bare hands.I'm talking the size of border collies.He hoists them over his shoulder and that evening we have fish.It tastes like dirt.
All this walking around and different eating, I start to lose weight and have to get some new clothes from the Salvation Army.I tell my mom that I'm on a new diet and exercise program and that I'm getting good results.
Later on, a hippie-ish guy in a band shows up at the encampment, and he takes me to a rock climbing gym and shows me the ropes.Literally.His name is Tom and he's in the area visiting a relative on hospice.
Says that he's rolling out soon to a place with real elevation, real rocks to climb.Says that he needs a belay partner.I tell him that I'll think on it and get back to him. They were just loving you into a false sense of security.
They're messing with you.This whole time it was just so that you could get a taste of what you would miss.They know, they know what you're doing.What's the fun in killing a depressive?It's too easy.You're giving them what they want.No, that's not it.
All of that's behind you.It's just somebody from the camp here stealing your wallet and rifling through your stuff. These are the thoughts that run through my mind when I see the shadow looming outside my tent.
Somehow the mere presence of it awakens me, or more disturbing, it's been standing out there for a very long time waiting for me to stir. How does one knock on a tent?I don't know, but a wooden knocking sound emanates from the zippered entrance.
Hello?Hello, it's me again.I know that you're in there.How could I forget his voice?I don't say anything.Open this tent or I'll burn it right up, the voice says with a mean-spirited laugh.Okay, okay, I say, making my way towards the flap.
From my low vantage point, I'm greeted by the thick white tennis shoes, these socks hiked up blue veiny legs.I crawl out and stand up, and it's the first visitor, the guy whose face I smashed with the softball bat.Hello again, sir.Glad to see you.
How are you doing?he asks. Jovial and cheerful as he's ever been.Face frozen like always.Defeat fills my veins.I can't think of anything to do other than cooperate.There's no way to beat these things.I start to say, fine, but he cuts me off.
I'm here to tell you about some huge Medicare savings on your home medical equipment.What?Medical equipment for the home.You know, like hospital beds, bedside commodes, oxygen concentrators, portable oxygen. Never have there been savings like this.
Oxygen?Why yes, just be sure to not smoke while wearing your oxygen.You just might catch your face and house on fire and convince some dipshit youngster that he was responsible for your death.
One coincidentally accidentally shot a bottle rocket onto the roof of a nearby house, where it promptly fizzled out and didn't harm anyone.The wind is knocked out of me.My legs are jello.I try to speak, but no words come.
By signing up for this supplemental plan, you will get huge savings by entering into a network of quality physicians.He continues.Are you telling me?My knees are on the ground, eyes exploding with hot tears.
He says, pushing a nice cold finger to my lips.He places his other hand on my head.I just need to ask you one more question.I can only choke out a sob in response. How do you feel about the recent quality of food at Arby's?
Is it the same, better, worse?I haven't been in a while.What?Hmm, option D, I understand.Thank you for your time.He says with a bow and tromps off into the night. So, this is Colorado.I say more of a declaration than a question.
It hasn't been that long since we passed the state line coming out of Kansas.Through the windshield, I-70 stretches across to slightly crumpled flatness.The sun is blinding and setting in the west.I can't see the mountains. Yep, Tom says.
I figured the Rocky Mountains would be a little rockier than this, I say.But Tommy doesn't catch my reference, doesn't take the assist, only responds.You usually can see him.Frickin' son. In my pocket, my phone buzzes, and I answer.
Hey mom, oh yeah, just crossed into Colorado.No mountains yet.Yeah, actually yeah, I think I'm feeling pretty good.Thank you all for listening to this week's episode.I hope that you enjoyed it.
Wherever you may be in the world, I hope that you're staying safe and sound.And as always, stay creepy.
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