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Sponsored by Chumba Casino. NO PURCHASE NECESSARY VGW GROUP VOID WHERE PROHIBITED BY LAW 18 PLUS TERMS AND CONDITIONS APPLY Hello everyone, I hope that you're all doing well.
October is in full swing and it's my favorite time of the year, so let's keep it rolling and enjoy some scary stories.Let's get into it as we drift further into Mr. Creep's mind. I joined my father on his night shift as a park ranger.
I should have followed his rules.Written by Helena Castellan This is how the human mind works.When you're walking through a forest, you don't think too much.
You just let the silence surround you, feel the soft breeze and the branches crack under your feet.It's in our nature to yearn for such scenery.
No matter how much we thrive in busy, concrete-soaked cities, forests are always welcoming and refreshing to us. The air is clear and crisp, and daylight plays hide-and-seek through the tall branches.It's inspiring and beautiful.
Sometimes, though, as you walk on your path, your mind begins to focus on small things.Noises, gusts of wind, shadows in the trees.Such silence can be both welcoming and unsettling.It depends on how you view it.Forests are double-sided coins.
They hide you away from the tiring city landscape, but expose you to another environment. You're not in control anymore, because this is not your home.You can lie to yourself and build a house there, but you don't belong in a forest.
You're merely a visitor.That's National Parks for you.An illusion of being in control.The fake freedom you feel when you walk on those marked paths and camp in the square beside you.
When you think the silence around you is peaceful, but even the silence is an illusion. Visit a forest again, even when it's silent.Is it really?It's not.Complete, absolute silence means death.Fear it.My father taught me that.
He's a park ranger and he's been doing this job since forever.I wasn't much of a fan of national parks, especially because most of the time there's no service and the hikes are killing me. I would rather enjoy nature by swimming in a lake or skiing.
Why break your legs to end up to a high point just to see a random valley? Not to mention the animals.They were everywhere and the insects always got on my nerves too.I never understood his love for the forest.
I guess that was one of the reasons why he started telling me scary stories from his night shaft.Looking back they were obviously made up, but to younger me they seemed believable.I used to think that he was so brave for working the night shaft.
As I got older and I got into horror, and even if I didn't believe in his forest creatures anymore, I still liked the idea of spending the night in a small cabin in the middle of nowhere, just for that dose of adrenaline.
When my father said that he wanted to take me with him, I had accepted immediately.I knew why he had offered.See, over the past years, our relationship had taken a big hit. I guess I was growing up and he didn't know how to handle that.
He had become emotionally distant and seemed to repel any of my tries to open up to him.In return, I had become uninterested and irritable.In the words of my mother, this would have been a fun way to bond, I guess. We arrived at the park around 9pm.
His shift started at 10pm and ended at 6am.His jeep pierced through the darkness and ventured into the woods.The headlights flashed the trees, turning them white against the black sky.
I had never been on this route, but again, my visits to the park were rare.We drove for a while, most of the time people underestimate the size of national parks.
It took us an hour and a half to get to the cabin, which wasn't even in the heart of the forest.I saw it, one single trace of humanity in the middle of nowhere.A tiny wooden cabin with flickering light bulbs and watchdogs.
Before we got out of the car, my father stopped me.Listen, there's some instructions that you need to follow here.I know it might seem unimportant, but they're crucial.And then he handed me a piece of paper.A list of handwritten rules.
At first, they were ordinary.Don't go out alone in the park, don't leave food out, etc.I thought the rest of the rules had been put there just to freak me out. Dad, I'm not 12 anymore.You can't freak me out with this shit.I'm not trying to.
You wanted to come here with me, so act accordingly.What even is this?If you see a man without an arm, don't help him. We have all kinds of weirdos around here.And this, if the whistling is near you, it means that they're far.
My father smiled, but his eyes didn't.Some of these are added by superstitious fellas.It's more of a what if.It's not going to happen to you. Rule 1.Don't go out alone in the park.Always have a working contact device.Rule 2.
Don't leave marked paths unless instructed to and or with proper equipment.Rule 3.Don't leave food out and lock the trash bins.Rule 4.Always keep on the whistle and the badge.Rule 5.If you see a man without an arm, don't help him. 6.Your family is not in here, remember.
There is no reason for you to hear their voices from outside.Lock your car doors even when you are driving.Check the marks on the trees.There are only three types of marks, all triangles, red, yellow, and green.
Other marks are not ours, don't follow them. 9.If the whistling is near you, it means that they're far.If it's far away, it means that they're near.Beware of dead blue.What is dead blue?I asked. My father sighed.
You know when you're out in the woods, when you think what you hear is silence, but you realize there's dozens of sounds around you, from birds to crickets to leaves rustling?Yeah?Well, that's because there's no such thing as silence.
Absolute silence, never.There's always sound, movement, life. Dead Blue is complete and utter silence.That's our, um, codename for it.Death-inducing silence.Unnatural.Right, and when that happens, it won't.
But if it does... He paused, staring at the steering wheel.And then his head turned to me.His eyes darted from mine to the window behind me.You leave.That being said, he got out of the car and I followed. The cabin was dusty and cramped.
I couldn't understand how he could spend eight hours in here.He had a small TV, but it wasn't working, a desk, and a mini-fridge.You sit here all alone?I asked.Yeah, why?Does that freak you out? Don't you get bored?Martin's post is ten minutes away.
Sometimes I just drive over.Nothing really happens out here anyway.My spot is pretty far from the campsite.I just have to patrol from time to time to make sure that nobody wanders off into the night, but that rarely happens.
This is one of the wilder areas, less explored.You haven't explored at all.His eyes sparkled.Wouldn't be possible. So, you don't know what's out there.That's the fun of it.You said you wanted adrenaline.There you go."I nodded.
He opened the mini-fridge and threw me some juice.Orange juice.I had mentioned that I had liked this brand once and he had remembered.Maybe our relationship wasn't so bad.We sat next to each other in the small cabin.Dad locked it.
I'm not gonna lie to you, most of the time I just sleep.Literally nothing ever happens.So you really didn't see any creatures out there?Like the ones you told me about when I was little?I jokingly asked.
The only creature out there is my manager, and I would rather face a million cryptids than talk to him. I laughed.I leaned in to look out the windows.I can't see anything, just my reflection.You want me to dim down the light?
Yeah, he did and darkness crept inside the tiny cabin.The woods became more prominent and more vivid.The light made by the moon was unbelievable and the stars were actually visible compared to the polluted city.
The cabin was on a hill propped up a tree with a trapdoor and a ladder leading to our car.We could actually see above the tree line into the valley. When we spent the first hours talking, somewhere around midnight, I began dozing off.
I didn't want to, but I caved in and fell asleep with my head on the desk.He woke me up and I rubbed my eyes in confusion.What time is it?I got a call from Martin. Right, who was Martin?I mumbled.The other one in the area.
Says that he got a call from the campsite and somebody's gone missing.We need to go search for him.We as in us?Yeah, you'll stay in the back seat.I'm on the phone with Martin right now.I could hear Martin's muffled voice through the speaker.
Wait, don't take the kid.Why not?He'll stay in the car.Paul, it could be one of those nights. We won't get out of the car.You can't guarantee that.Well, I can't leave him here alone in the dark.A pause followed.
Look, Paul, I understand you wanted to do a take your kid to work day, but I don't know about this one.It could be dangerous.We're literally just going to drive around for a bit.It's fine.Leave him in the cabin.
Dad put his hand over one of the speakers so I didn't understand what Martin told him.His eyes kept darting to the windows behind me.He sighed.Martin will come pick me up.You're going to stay here, locked.
Turn the lights off and wait for me to return.It's only going to take a minute and you'll be safe here.What?I'm not staying here alone. What did Martin tell you to change your mind?It doesn't matter.I'll return in maximum half an hour.
You can go back to sleep if you want, or I can call you and we can talk."I was afraid, truly afraid.I didn't want to show it, especially after I had complained that nothing interesting happened around there, so I reluctantly agreed.
My dad opened the trapdoor and climbed down the ladder, and then his face disappeared into the darkness. I saw Martin's car pick him up and drive away.The silence followed.
I wished that I had been home, in my bed, but instead I sat stiff on the chair and waited.And waited.I began imagining the worst.What if they had crashed?What if a bear had found them?
I didn't want to let my fear get the best of me, but I thought about his legends and the set of rules.I hoped that the writers were just paranoid. At around 2am, I heard a knock on the trapdoor.I felt my chest tighten.Another knock followed.
I wanted to respond, but something in me didn't allow me to, and then I heard my dad's voice.Hey Kev, open up, it's cold out here.It echoed through the cabin.My eyes were dry from the lack of sleep, but my mind was fully awake.
I stared at the phone, and then at the trapdoor. Kev, open it, please.I know you're there, I saw you at the window.I turned off the light completely.I don't know why I had this urge, but if my dad could see me from the window, anybody could.
Or anything.And I didn't like to be on display like that. You don't have a key.Mint locks from the inside.Shit, yeah.How was it then?Did you find them?Yeah, we did.He was drunk off his ass.We hoped him to return to his friends.
Could have been a lot worse. As I was talking to him, I searched for the keys in the drawer.It was strange because I hadn't heard anybody climbing the ladder, or even seen Martin's car drive my dad back to the cabin.
How did you get here without Martin? What do you mean, open up Kev, I'm freezing?Answer the question.Me did drive me here.I didn't see any headlights.They were off to not draw the attention of animals.Bullshit.
I pulled out the crumpled piece of paper.Rule 6.Your family is not here, remember.There is no reason for you to hear their voices from outside. My hand was shaking so bad I could barely grab the phone.I skimmed through my contacts.Kade F. Connor.Dad.
I called him.The phone was ringing yet no sound came from beneath the trapdoor.My dad picked up.
In the blinding darkness of the cabin surrounded by the howling wind, I toned my voice down to a whisper.Dad, somebody's out there pretending to be you.A long pause followed.When he spoke, his voice was trembling.Don't open.Turn off the lights.
Did you turn them off when I told you?I turned them off now.No, you should have turned them off when I left. I'm sorry.It's fine.Don't talk to it.Did you talk to it?Guilt crept up my spine.I don't know why, but I lied.I did not.Okay, good.Stay put.
I'm coming after you.But what if the thing sees you?You'll have to face it.We have ways to distract them.I'm fine.Don't be scared. I lied again.I'm not.Good.I love you.I'm coming. I wasn't scared for me, I was scared for him.
The voice from below continued, Kev, please open, please, it's cold.I didn't answer.Knocks followed, and the voice went on.Did you talk to someone on the phone?Kev, I lost my phone in the woods.Whoever is out there and has my phone is not me.
It's not me, it's not me.It kept repeating. It's not me.It's not me.I began feeling lightheaded.Fear is one thing, but this was a combination of anxiety, stress, and guilt.I tried to control my breathing, but to no avail.
The cabin was spinning around me.It's not me.It's not me. Shut up, shut up!"And it did.Silence followed.I pulled out the list again and started reading and re-reading the rules like a lunatic.I kept listening for noises from outside.
The wind was still going, good, no dead blue, and then I heard a loud thud from my wall.Another followed, and another.It sounded like footsteps. They moved to the roof of the cabin.I could hear my heartbeat in my ears.
Whatever was out there was now climbing around my cabin.I could hear the scratching outside.I started to cry and covered my mouth with my hand.I just wanted my dad.I wished that I could see his face again.
The universe somehow ironically responded, because my dad's face suddenly appeared at one of the windows.He raised his hand and knocked.I stared at him through my eyebrows, my head tilted.Scarcely breathing, I remained still.He kept knocking.
That wasn't my dad.The cabin was tied to a tree at around 10 meters from the ground.He could not be at the window. The creature knocked and knocked and for what seemed like an eternity we just made eye contact.
Blood was dripping from one of its nostrils.Another phone call woke me from my trance.Kevin, are you in there?Are you in the cabin?Yes, and the thing looks like you, and it's at the window.I'm coming right now, I'll shoot it, don't worry.
I'm just about to turn a corner.Dad, I'm really scared for you.Martin's coming too, it's okay. Truly, in a few minutes, Martin's car pulled up, and I cried in relief.The thing turned its head to look and then back to me.
It opened its mouth wide and using its fingers, pulled the corners upwards to form a smile, and then jumped into the woods and into the darkness.Gunshots followed.After a few silent minutes, I called my dad and he picked up.Where are you?I asked.
I saw him walk towards the cabin and then heard him climb up the stairs.I unlocked the trapdoor and hugged him tight.What was that?Please tell me that we're going home.We are.I'm so sorry.I should have never put you through this.Come on.
As we walked towards our car, my blood ran cold.It was not something that I had seen or heard, but the opposite.You see, the wind had stopped.The crickets had stopped.Dead blue.
I sprinted to the car, got into the driver's seat, and unlocked the doors.My dad was standing in front of the car, confused.
And that's when I got a text, and I hit the gas, and I ran him over, and then turned the car around and sped up into the night. I barely knew how to work it out since I didn't have my license, but I left as quick as possible.
Behind me, a car followed.When I got to the nearest checkpoint, I stopped.The car was Martin's and he got out alone.Where's my dad?I asked.Mia took an ATV to get you, said he would get there faster.I texted him to turn around and that you were safe.
The text that he had sent me.Martin and I split up.He may get there faster than me, and if he does, he'll text me to turn and head to the checkpoint.There is no one with Martin.He's alone.
I had thought that I had unlocked the trapdoor to my dad when he had actually taken an ATV and turned to the checkpoint.The thing that I had ran over wasn't my dad, and I had known it since I felt that unnerving silence.
However, nobody at the checkpoint had seen my father.As I'm typing this, I'm afraid for him, but a part of me knows that he's alive.Maybe he took another route or got lost.Whatever he did, I'll find him.
So much has happened since my previous update.While I tell you what happened, please keep one thing in mind.Stay away from the forest.Forget everything that I told you the last time about recreation and nature and all that.It's not worth it.
It really isn't. I didn't want to say it but deep down I knew that it was my fault that my dad was missing.No matter what cryptic creatures roamed the park, he had been safe until I had showed up.
Through me he had showed them that he had a weakness and they fed on his fear.Now it was possible that I would never see him again and it was all my fault. I knew it.
I just chose to bury it deep down in my chest and let it sink deeper in my stomach, a knot that would never disappear. As I was sitting there at the checkpoint, covered in a blanket and shivering from the stress, Martin approached me.
As much as I had wanted to ask him about the park, the rules, my dad, something inside me didn't know whether to trust him or not.Was he the real Martin?He sat down next to me, I'm sorry.The night was still cold and unwelcoming.
The trees stood tall and sober in front of us, crowned by the dark, never-ending sky.No stars, just a black, soulless night.Maybe clouds had rolled in.I kept thinking of how four hours ago I had been searching for constellations with my
What do you mean?I'm sorry for your dad.Don't say that.You say it like he's dead.Martin didn't answer and he didn't look at me either.I turned my body towards him.He's not dead.He isn't.Martin remained silent.
And then without thinking, I punched his arm.He pulled away and frowned.It's not my fault.He shouldn't have brought you here. Tell me everything that you know about this stupid park.I mean, I deserve it.
You owe it to me, and it's the only way that I can actually find him."He stared at me for a while, and so long had passed until this response that I had thought that he had decided not to answer.
When he finally spoke, his voice was toned down to a whisper.We thought that they were lying, both me and Paul and the others.
When we had gotten hired here, we had heard the stories, the legends and everything, but assumed those were horror stories passed around.We didn't stop to listen, and we didn't believe anything until we saw it with our own eyes.
You see, this park is huge.Huge, and no one ever bothered to explore it.I had thought that they had lacked the resources, but now I see that they were just afraid. He stopped to look around.
It would be ridiculous of him to hide from anyone right now.Why would he feel ashamed of telling me these?I thought but then realized that he was probably looking around himself to stay aware not of someone but of something.That's the thing.
Even when you've been face to face with the supernatural, your mind still searches for a logical explanation.We started writing down the occurrences, trying to find a pattern or a way to avoid them.
We thought that if we wrote down those rules, we might be able to not get inconvenienced as much. He wiped his face with his hand.We never knew this could happen.None of us had ever disappeared.
We just thought the worst they could do was annoy us, creep us out, hurt us.He was sweating even if it was freezing outside.He kept shaking his head.Paul always refused to believe.He had never actually seen anything. I sighed.
I felt too alert to let my guard down and cry, but I craved it.Why do you let tourists here, campers?They only care about those who wander off.They search for it in your soul, the desire to get lost, and then they help you.
A shiver ran down my spine for no reason.I hugged myself and then sneezed.I need your help to find him.Tomorrow morning.No Martin, he could be hurt.I turned toward the dark mass of trees.He's out there alone right now.Who's out there?
Said a woman coming out of the cabin.My dad, he's missing.She frowned and then looked at Martin. Which post?62, he replied.Ah shit, that's my next shift.I could look for him with you if you want.I'll take my car and go to the post.
Tell you if anything shows up. Martin looked back at the cozy cabin warmly lit and then to the dark woods.With a sigh, he stood up and started walking to his car.I followed.He locked the car doors and then I called my dad.
My heart was beating so fast that I thought it would break free from my chest.No answer.I took a deep breath.Right.We should, um, look for his ATV first then.
We drove back to his post and then we started checking the other paths around the main road.His ATV couldn't have gotten too far.We found it parked in front of a big oak tree, but no trace of my dad.
The trees surrounding it made it impossible for the car to pass through, so we came to the grim conclusion that we had to go out and search for him by foot. We ran over the rules one more time just to be sure.
No weird markings, dead blue, whistling, loved ones, one-armed man.Okay, I got it.I held onto Martin's arm as we sunk deeper into the dark trees, our flashlights drawing out more shadows than usual.
Calling out for him, begging him to come out, I yelled his name over and over until my throat had started to hurt. I could feel branches hanging onto my clothes at unnatural, twisted angles.At one point, we had stopped dead in our tracks.
Ahead of us, behind a tree, something was moving.Who's that?Oh, wouldn't you like to know?We both froze.What?The old lady voice continued.Who could it be? It was as if she was hiding behind the tree.
One of her bony hands appeared from one side and the other from the other side.She moved them around, tracing the outline of the tree with her fingers.It looked as if she was playing with us to make the tree seem like it had hands.
I knew that I had to try.Have you seen my dad? Have you seen my face?"she replied instantly.No?Would you like to?I turned to Martin right when the old lady or whatever it was jumped from behind the tree.
Even though I hadn't seen her face, I could make out how grotesque it looked judging by Martin's expression.He fired a few shots and I heard a wail like nothing else that I had heard before. It felt as if my ears were ripped off, and then silence.
I don't think this is safe, Kev.Yeah, no shit.I'm sorry about your dad, but I'm sure he's fine.If we just search for him in daylight... No, he could die by then.Every moment is precious.
I thought Martin was looking at me angry, but I realized two things.One, he wasn't looking at me, but behind me.And two, he wasn't angry, but confused.Kev, don't move. Right in that moment, I heard a whistle far in the distance.
If the whistling is near you, it means that they're far.If it's far away, it means that they're near.I opened my mouth to scream, but right in that instant, as Martin reached for me, I blacked out. When I woke up, I had a terrible headache.
I was still in the woods but Martin was gone and so was his car.I felt incredibly drained and my hands were shaking so bad that I could barely lift them up.
I started walking back to my dad's ATV, hoping that I could take it and move on with my search.I checked the time but something else stood out on my phone.The date.It was one day later.I had been in the woods for a whole day.
My head foggy, my body stiff, I got on the ATV and figured out how to start it, and then I drove back to the main road and to my father's post.I could see the light on and make out a silhouette.I stopped, studying its outline.
It looked like it had only one arm.If you see a man without an arm, don't help him. It was too late.He had seen me and he was climbing down the ladder.I got back on the ATV and I drove away.Right when I was halfway though, I ran out of gas.
Behind me, I heard footsteps.Hey kid, hold on.I see that you met my wife earlier.What a fine woman she is.My head was pulsating. Don't come near me.Oh, come on.You want to find your dad or not?You wouldn't know where he is.
Bullshit, I spoke to him this morning.Rage filled me and replaced the fear.I got down and turned to the old man who had been limping behind me and hit him.Don't speak about him.Don't you dare.
The old man laughed and I saw his only tooth staring back at me.I pushed him away and started running back to the post.I ran and ran and ran, without looking back until my limbs ached of a pain that I had never known before.
I got to the post and climbed up the ladder, and then I locked the trapdoor and called my mother who was worried sick about me.I barely managed to get a word out before I collapsed from exhaustion. When I woke up, morning was creeping in.
I called my dad one more time, and the phone rang a few times.
Tears gathered in my eyes.My throat hurt to speak, but I did.Dad?Dad, is that you?Where are you?
Kev, get out of the forest.They'll let me go.They want you.
It didn't make any sense.I stared at the floor, phone in hand, speechless.What do you mean?Where exactly are you?Kev, don't come after me.I can't do that.I can't just leave you there.I could make out heavy breathing on the other side of the phone.
Dad, just tell me where you are.I won't come after you.I promise.I'll be safe at the checkpoint.I'll send Martin.His voice was trembling. I don't know where I am.I've never been on this side of the forest.I think it's somewhere east.
Do you see any markings on the trees?Yeah, but none of the good ones.These markings aren't ours.I paused and so did he.I had my phone to my right ear and suddenly someone whistled right next to my left, startling me.I took a deep breath.
Relax, it means they're far away. There's something else," my dad said.The cabin felt cold and yet I was sweating, suffering from an unexplainable fever.I could barely hold the phone anymore.Kev, I'm not alone here.
Something else is with me and I can't get out either.It feels like I'm walking in a circle back and forth, and I'm afraid to go too far.It's as if it's guarding me.It doesn't want me to get out.
I heard another whistle to my left, only this time it didn't feel like it was directly into my ear anymore.They're getting closer.Right, I have to go.I wanted to hang up but my hand wasn't listening to me.I just let the phone fall to the ground.
In the reflection of the window I saw myself, pale dark veins under my eyes and dry lips. What was going on?I felt like puking.I kneeled and then started rocking back and forth unsure what to do, how to play this out.
I knew that it was surely my dad because the creatures can't talk on the phone, but I didn't know where he was at, and something inside me told me that they wouldn't let him go unless I personally went out to look for him.
I didn't know whether Martin would help me again, and judging by how fast he had left me alone there, it didn't seem like he was too eager to reach out.My stomach turned and my chest tightened as I puked on the floor of the cabin.
The next minutes were a blur.I remember my hands and my knees crawling to the trap, and then basically falling down the ladder and breaking my ankles on the ground, and then trying to stand up and failing.
I remained laying in the leaves and staring at the sky.I could just fall asleep here forever. Another whistle to my left, this time further away.I didn't have much time until they found me.Hey, kid!Oh god no, so soon.
I lifted myself from the ground enough to look at whoever was coming.It was the lady from the checkpoint, the one who said her shift was about to start.I mean, that's how it looked.I didn't know whether it was really her.I didn't answer.
Just blankly stared at her grey leather boots and ginger ponytail. You okay?"I stood up and she tried to help me but I yelled at her not to touch me.Stay away now!A look of confusion swept over her face.Where'd you come from?
I want to ask you the same thing.What?She smiled a bit amused.My dad is missing and you find that funny?She scratched her head. Who's your dad?We had this exact same conversation back at the checkpoint with Martin.You should have remembered.
I know that he's missing, but I don't know his name.I don't know everybody around here."She replied, annoyed.After I had told her, she shook her head.I'd never heard of him. Why isn't anyone talking about this?Your park rangers just go missing.
Hell, I've been here for two days now and you don't seem to even care.What about my mother?Did you talk to her?Did you talk to Martin?Since his egotistical ass left me here. Martin didn't come back to the checkpoint.She answered stoically.
After that night, we haven't seen him.I stared at her in disbelief.Okay, take me there if it's really you.You need to talk to more people.I can't be alone here with you.
Hey, I understand your dad is missing, but it's not exactly like it's so uncommon around here.And please be polite. Don't let frustration cloud your judgment and make you unnecessarily irritable.Unnecessarily?I have every right to be angry.
What do you mean it's not so uncommon?Martin said that no one went missing here.She frowned, tilting her head and then looked away.I was still feeling sick, but at least I could stand on my own legs now.
Another whistle echoed, this time deep into the woods.Tall trees surrounded us and the familiar cabin seemed now desolate and rotten.Nothing made sense anymore.Your dad is not the first to go missing.Many went before him and many will follow.
It's not something that you can negotiate.It just happens.Martin said.She slowly shook her head. It's not something well known.We don't want to scare our rangers."When I spoke, I sounded choked out.Who else went missing?She hesitated.
Silence filled the space between us and I could tell that she was uncomfortable.I did.I didn't give her time to finish.
I had been running for so long that my legs had gone numb, hitting my shoulders on tree trunks and struggling not to trip and roll on the ground.I felt like running was the only thing that could save me.
Deep into the forest, I wondered how long somebody could go without water or food. At some point, I stopped to sit down.I couldn't take it anymore.My heart was literally telling me that if I didn't stop soon, then it would.
The moment that I sat on the moss, I realized that I wasn't alone.I swallowed.I swore to God.In front of me sat the ginger lady.Go away, please.Just leave me alone.I just want to help.I don't believe you. I went missing a long time ago.
I don't remember what I was doing, patrolling around, I think.Anyway, post-62 is notorious for interesting stuff happening around.62-24-46.They're not haunted, generally speaking, but energy points.
And them, as far as I know, they come from the earth.They're corpses.Forests used to be humanity's cemeteries and ritual dumpsters in general. I don't know what went on around here, but these woods have swallowed so much blood.It's like mass.
This blood, this death.The more that it gathers, it creates this gravity and asks for even more.More blood and more death.She was softly murmuring, as if telling a bedtime story.I saw those markings, and even I didn't recognize them.
I was ashamed to call and ask. I thought that they had been a part of my training and not recognizing them would have made me look bad.Back then, no rules were written down, she sighed.
Anyway, I came to this clearing in the woods and well, I don't remember how I died.All I know is that I was following my mom's voice.I don't remember how it sounds like now. How long have you been here for?"She ignored my question.
You're still alive, you could leave.I want to, I'll tell you that it's not that bad here.She smiled, but her eyes didn't.There's always something to do here, they're always looking for another.I shook my head and she nodded.
Okay, well, you're looking for your dad.I think you already know what you need to do.Look behind you.I did, and behind me there is a blue triangle, almost fluorescent.When I turned back to her, she was gone.
I walked and walked, each step muffled by the damp earth and fallen leaves.You know, I've never been in such woods before.
They didn't feel alive in the usual way, millions of little lives roaming around, but they felt like a being of their own, and the earth rose and fell under my feet, almost mocking my breaths.
I passed a bridge and then a tunnel in one of these godforsaken mountains.When I got out, I could hear whispers and whistles.How are you?Why, I'm fine, just a little ravished.Well, well, wait.It's soon, I believe.I believe you too.Do you believe?
Yes, yes.Soon.Soon.Soon. What was about to happen soon?I tried calling out for my dad since my phone and flashlight had died, but somebody else answered and it wasn't him, and so I decided to keep my mouth shut.
I passed through this garden of roses clinging onto my clothes.Roses, our most popular and loved flower, who never miss a chance to draw blood. In the distance, more trees.One of them looked broken.
Coming closer, I realized something was hanging from it.Or someone.I didn't recognize their face.I kept walking and saw more.Hanging from the trees, their bare feet floating above my head, looming over me.
I stopped looking at their faces, afraid that I would see my dad. Eventually, I reached this hill and smelled something burning.Coming closer, I saw this fire and... Martin!The minute that I said that, pain pierced my shoulder.
My back hit the tree and I smelled something metallic.Go away, said Martin.No, it's me, believe me.I can't do this now.I already saw you five times, I don't believe you anymore.No, I'm telling the truth. Another razor flew to me but I dodged it.
I started crying and I fell to my knees.I told him about the ginger lady and my dad and the stars in my life in a way that no doppelganger could.They could try to take my life but they didn't know anything about it.
Martin's gaze softened and he sighed. I saw over 12 sunsets here.I had to kill them to eat.The mimics, I ate their meat.They mimicked my family, loved ones, they even mimicked you.I've killed my family countless times here.Countless.
When we talked for a while, he told me that he didn't want to go any further because he had seen a clearing and had a bad feeling and I understood.At one point he interrupted me, can you hear the fire?
Truly I heard no rustling, not of leaves and not the fire and no wind. Dead blue.Run.I did, with Martin behind me, and we ran until the moonlight shone freely without the burden of the trees.We had reached the clearing, and I stopped, breathless.
My dad was laying there unconscious.I threw myself in the ground and grabbed him, shaking his shoulders.My voice was hoarse, and my eyes stung from the tears. Wake up dad, wake up please, now!"But he didn't.Suddenly Martin let out a wail.
I turned around and saw him and some sort of figure over him.I don't know what it was.Choose.I froze.Somebody had whispered right into my ear.Choose. Martin was yelling.My dad was silent.I understood then and there.Dad, I choose him.Let him live.
Martin's screams stopped and my dad started coughing behind me.I turned to him and hugged him tight.He was confused and dizzy.Martin, on the other hand, was laying on the cold earth, his eyes open and his skin bruised.Guilt washed over me.
However, I didn't have time to process it because a powerful light shone onto us.A helicopter.I grabbed the ladder without thinking and I helped my dad up.
The last thing that I saw before I looked up was the ginger lady sitting cross-legged on the grass next to Martin's body.
We were taken back to the entrance of the park, and the next hours were filled with questions about the park, about our disappearance, about Martin's murder.
We're now the prime suspects, but I'm just glad that I got out and I know it's because of his sacrifice.However, I would really like to speak to him again.I can't rest knowing that his innocent soul is out there.
I plan on giving more updates on my account. There is one other thing.I would never dare to admit it.Sometimes when I look at my dad even weeks after what happened, I wonder if it's really him.Today's episode is sponsored by BetterHelp.
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I work at a movie theater.We have some strange rules.Written by Drunken Swordsman. I've been working as a cinema usher for three years, and by now it's become obvious to me that my cinema's rules are a bit out of the norm.Okay, that was a lie.
They're completely insane.But you can be the judge of that yourself.Just a little background before I start. My name's Sean, I'm 21 years old, and I've been working this job for three years now.
There are two reasons why I ended up here, and why I didn't leave even after I realized just how messed up this place is.The first is that not many employers will hire a high school dropout with a criminal record for petty theft and drug possession.
I made some bad decisions early on in my life, and even though I'm on the straight and narrow now, my life has been marked forever by those unfortunate choices.The second reason is the pay.
A cinema usher's job is checking tickets, cleaning rooms between shows, and checking that every movie runs smoothly. Usually ushers earn minimum wage if they're lucky.I, on the other hand, get the same pay as the manager of any normal joint.
Although when you take into account the stuff that I have to deal with every day, it becomes a whole lot less alluring. But none of you really care about that now, do you?You're here for the story, and I won't disappoint.
So, here they are, the rules of my cinema.Rule number one, never ever open the door to room three once the movie has started.Sounds simple, right?
This rule and the time that I almost broke it were the first signs that I got this cinema wasn't 100% normal. Even knowing about room number three, you'll be tempted to go in.The room is clever, and it'll try to trick you any way that it can.
You might hear something from inside, you might be addressed by someone wanting you to open it, but you should never, ever do so.The first time that I almost entered room three was a mere week after I got hired.
I had read the rules, sure, and I had been confused by them, but I didn't question them.I needed this job badly.If I had to endure some extravagant, mysterious rules to get my paycheck, then so be it.
I was cleaning up the main lobby, where the entrance to the individual projection room is when I had heard it.The thumping of something on a hard surface, and it was coming from room 3. I rushed over to the door.
It was clear that something was wrong inside.A thin curl of smoke was coming from under it.The thumping was louder now as if someone was hitting the door from inside with their fists.
The handle was turning, rattling in its joint, as the person on the other side tried desperately to get outside.Hello?I yelled, pressing my ear to the flat surface of the door. Let us out!Help us!"came a voice from the other side.
It was a woman's voice, a terror audible in every word.Underneath it, I could hear a faint whooshing sound, like a strong wind in a tunnel. It took me a second to realize what it was.Flames.There's a fire.The door is jammed.You have to let us out.
The woman screamed desperately.The smoke coming from under the door was darkened to crit and I coughed as it caught in my throat.The beating of hands on the other side resumed.Let us out, please.Let us out. I reached for the door handle.
Any thought of rules in my head was gone.There were people in there who needed my help. A hand reached out from behind me and grabbed my arm.I jumped in shock, twisting around.It was David, my manager.
I had only ever talked to him in my interview for the position where he had struck me as a calm but distant man.Now he was furious, anger engraved in every line of his face.Rule number one, never forget it. But there's a fire inside, David.
The door's jammed.We need to get them out."A fire.Oh, it's clever today.David laughed to himself.Trying it on the new guy, too.And then he turned serious again.There's a reason that we have rules.Leave room three alone.Everything's alright in there.
I could hardly believe what I was hearing.The woman from inside cried out again.She was choking on her words now as the smoke had invaded her lungs.Please help me, Sean.I can't breathe.Let us out. David laughed again.You can hear her, David.
They're going to die.I yelled, incredulous as to how he could be so heartless.Well, I wasn't going to let people die because of him and his batshit crazy rules.I reached for the door handle.David looked me dead in the eyes.
How does she know your name?I stopped short.Had I told her my name? No.I looked at the door again.No smoke, no hammering of fists.I cautiously knocked on it a few times.No one answered.David put one hand on my shoulder.
You see, Sean, he said patiently, room 3 stays closed no matter what.In 20 minutes the movie will end and everybody will come out unharmed, I promise. But, but I heard her.I saw the smoke.I stammered, confusion taking over.
You saw what it wanted you to see.Take it from me, Sean.Room 3 will try everything to get you to open that door, but it hasn't succeeded in 13 years and it damn well won't succeed while I'm the manager here.I won't have that happen again.
He led me away from the door gently. When the movie in room 3 ended 20 minutes later, a crowd of people walked out.Everyone is unharmed.I checked the room afterwards and there were no signs of fire anywhere.Rule number 2.
If you see a man dressed as a movie character leading children away from the lobby, notify the manager immediately. You know how a lot of cinemas hire people in costumes or suits to promote new movies.
Like when a new Star Wars movie comes out and you have guys in stormtrooper armor walking around the building to hype people up.I hated that sort of stuff even before I started working here.
One of the odd jobs that I took up after dropping out of school was at a seedy run-down amusement park outside of town. I had to wear a rancid, unwashed fursuit of the park's mascot for eight hours straight, six days a week.
Even seeing one of those things nowadays makes me gag.Now, rule number two is a bit of a mystery.I've only ever had to follow it once, and I'm not even sure what really happened.But it's an interesting, albeit gruesome story, so you might enjoy it.
The day it happened was our premiere of Avengers Affinity War.The manager had hired several cosplayers dressed as the main characters to walk around the lobby and take pictures with fans.
Now I was generally okay with that despite my past experiences. The thing that made me nervous was how before the shift began, David had rounded up all the ushers and made us memorize the list of superheroes that he had hired.
He was absolutely adamant about it, insisting that we knew them off by heart.If it wasn't for the incident with Room 3, I would have thought that he was mad, but by now I knew that not everything was as it seemed in this place.
It wasn't a long list, so I can still remember it.Captain America, Black Panther, Doctor Strange, Thor.Retrospectively, the poor guy dressed as the God of Thunder must have been devastated how fat his favorite character got in Endgame.
I knew that something was up when I exited one of the projection rooms and saw a person dressed as the one and only Iron Man walking slowly down the lobby towards the garbage room.
Getting closer, I could see that there was something seriously wrong with him.His suit had been high quality once, but seemed to be in disrepair now.It was grimy and scraped, with some parts in danger of falling off altogether.
He smelled horrible like roadkill on a hot summer day, but the worst part was, there was some sort of liquid seeping from between the joints of his costume.It was a sickening dark brown color, viscous, almost like drying treacle.
My heart stopped as I saw that behind him was a group of children. None of them could have been more than 13 years old.They stared vacantly forward, following the fitted figure as he led them away from the crowds in a demented column.
My ordeal with room 3 had taught me all that I needed to know about the rules.I rushed over to the manager's office, a torn siding yelled into David's room.Rule 2, Iron Man costume heading towards the garbage room.Three kids in tow.
There was a bang from the office as David leapt from his chair so fast that it crashed to the ground.Shit, shit, shit.I should have known.I shouldn't have hired anyone.I shouldn't have freaking hired anyone.Damn it.I should have known.
He was rummaging around in a drawer of his desk that he had quickly unlocked.I caught a glimpse of what he was taking out before he hid it in a pocket of his trousers.
A vial of some sort of clear liquid and a long jagged knife made of what looked like bronze. As he tore out of the office, he stopped and grabbed me, pushing a crumpled piece of paper into my hand.Make sure that nobody goes into the garbage room.
Don't let anybody inside.You got that?If I don't come out in half an hour, hit the fire alarm and evacuate the building, then call the number on this paper.There was no time for questions.David tore out of the room and I ran after him.
As we had rounded the corner, I saw that Iron Man had almost got the children into the garbage room.It was maybe three meters away from the door or the kid still following blindly.David tore past them and rammed open the door.
Then in one clean movement, he grabbed the costume thing, threw it inside, and slammed the door shut. The children twitched like puppets with their strings jerked up and down, and then they looked around confused.
They probably didn't even know how they had got there.So they did what any kid would do in that situation, and they started to cry.It was 23 minutes before David left the garbage room.
There were dark red marks on his once clean shirt, and a horrible stench wafted off him.He looked tired. Clean up in there, Sean.If you find anything strange outside of a garbage bag, don't touch it.Just come tell me."He stumbled off into his office.
The garbage room was a wreck.The stinking dark liquid stained the floor, the walls, and even the ceiling in some places.In the corner, there were several black plastic bags.
A wet patch of that noisome dark liquid was slowly spreading from underneath them. Rule number three, if a man with a tattoo on his left cheek wants something from the lost and found, don't give it to him.
Now this one isn't exactly tied to a story that I personally experienced, but I still have something to say about it. After the Rule 2 incident, David started treating me kinder.
I guess he trusted me a bit more since he knew that I learned my lesson and understood that the rules weren't there for benign reasons.They were there to protect us all.I was curious about Rule 3.
After some time, I summoned the courage to ask about it so before one day's shift, I walked into the office and cautiously asked about it. David, I'm sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if you could tell me more about Rule 3 by any chance?
David smiled.How curious are you?Don't worry, I would be too.He began rummaging about in his drawers and file folders.Eventually, he handed me several yellowed papers stapled together in the corner.Here, read this while you're on your break.
Hopefully, it'll slake your curiosity. When my break came, I sat down in our locker rooms and did exactly that.The papers were actually several newspaper articles stapled together.The first was 15 years old.Gruesome triple homicide.
Family murdered in their own house.Sole survivor tells horrifying story. The neighborhood of Redacted was left in shock yesterday after police found a gruesome murder scene in the house of local residents, the Prescott's.
Of the family of four, there was only one survivor, 13-year-old Redacted Prescott, who was found bound and gagged but otherwise unharmed in his family's living room, next to the mutilated remains of his parents and older sister.
Found on the crime scene was an umbrella which the survivor claims his mother had forgotten after the family's visit to the local cinema earlier that week.
Cinema manager David Redacted told our reporters that the umbrella had been picked up by a tattooed man the day before the murder who claimed that it was his.
Police are looking into the possibility that this man was connected to the crime, but so far their search has proved unsuccessful.
The next two articles were 12 and 5 years old, respectively, and published by different newspapers, but they told much the same story.A mass homicide.One mentioned an item from our lost and founds being found at the scene from the crime.
The other didn't, but David had written underneath it in pencil.The same man, what does that tattoo mean?Need to make a rule about him. The last article was what really creeped me out, though.
It wasn't modern, in fact, it was just a printed photo of an ancient-looking page.The year printed at the top announced it had come from London, 1899.The writing was hardly legible, but the headline told me all that I needed to know.Fear the Stage.
London theatre shuts down amid murder spree as mysterious killer claims forgotten items. Some rules are harder to follow than others, and some come up more often.Rule four is one of the rarer ones, and I thank God for that.Rule number four.
If the lights go out while you're cleaning a room, take a seat.A movie will play.You have to watch it until the end.Don't look away from the screen, no matter what you see or hear.This is the rule that gave me the most anxiety when I read it.
Having already had a run-in with rules 1 and 2, I knew just how serious following our commandments or failing to do so could be. My experience with Rule 4 happened when I was cleaning out room 1 after a movie.Without a warning, it happened.
The thing that I had been dreading for months at that point.The lights went out.There wasn't a pop, like a lightbulb going off.One second I was in a well-lit room, the next I was standing in pitch blackness.I froze.
Even though I had been mentally preparing myself for this for weeks, I froze. Take a seat, damn you, take a seat."Finally, my limbs obeyed my mind.I lapped for where I hoped the nearest row was and ramped myself down into a place.Just in time.
The scream let up, filling with static before resolving into the image of a dark, dank cellar. The image quality was ancient, like some super 8mm film from the 90s.
Through the grainy screen I could make out that there was a single chair in the center of the room.Tied to it was a young man.He was struggling against his bonds and I could tell that he was injured.
Narrow streams of blood streamed down his face from an injury above his brow, and his arms were rubbed raw from the robes. There was something terribly familiar about the prisoner.Not his face, I had never seen that in my life, but his clothes.
I froze as I heard something move behind me.It was the creak of a cinema chair.My back crawled. Someone or something had just sat down behind me.It took all my willpower not to swivel around or to jump from my seat and make a break from the entrance.
I fixed my eyes on the screen praying for this to be over soon.The man on the screen had stopped struggling. He was looking at something behind the camera.It took me a second to realize that he had been watching the cameraman.
I almost jumped from my seat as a voice whispered behind me.What an actor, huh?The voice was low, a practically inaudible whisper. It sounded human, almost, but I knew immediately that it was anything but.I can't explain precisely how.
It was something about the cadence of the thing's speech, almost as if its throat wasn't quite made for human language, and it just did its best at mimicking what it had heard.
Even worse, the voice was coming from slightly above me, not directly behind.Whatever was in the chair behind me, it had to be absolutely massive when standing up.Should I answer?Should I just keep watching?The rules hadn't told me about that.
I remained silent, gripping the armrest to stop myself from shaking, eyes fixed forward towards the screen.The camera was moving as the person carrying it approached his prisoner.
The man in the chair was trying desperately to recoil, but his binds were too tight for anything but the slightest movement, and as the camera got closer I recognized what was so horribly familiar about him.His clothes.
He was wearing a cinema uniform.My cinema's uniform. Where do you think they got the costumes?"whispered the thing sitting behind me.Sadistic irony dripped from every word.It was playing with me.I didn't answer.
The movie went on for about half an hour.I won't tell you exactly what I saw.I don't want to think about it more than I have to.I'm not sure that stuff would be allowed on this site, not even in a description.
Suffice to say, I wouldn't wish such a fate upon my worst enemy. At one point, I retched and vomited over myself on the floor.As my stomach convulsed, I almost took my eyes off the screen.
And at that moment, I felt that thing's hot, a stinking breath on my back.It wanted me to look away.It wanted me to give in. I looked up again fixing my eyes on the gruesome scene playing out on screen.
The thing behind me spoke only once more, before the lights came back on as abruptly as they had turned off.It sounded frustrated, angry even.You know the saying, Sean.Rules are meant to be broken.Or at least that guy thought so.
I wish that I could end the story there, but unfortunately there's just a bit more to it.
Because the guy on the screen had been a worker here, because he had died for breaking a rule, because David hadn't told us everything, instead keeping us on some sort of bullshit, need-to-know basis.
Somebody had suffered a fate worse than death because of his secrecy, and I would have him explain himself. Still covered in my own sick and cold sweat, I stormed through the lobby ignoring the disgusted looks of the customers there.
I slammed into the office.David looked up calmly.Rule four or eleven.Four.Good. Good, good.You knew what the risk was, you knew what could happen, but you didn't tell anyone.
That guy that I saw, the things that it did to him, you could have stopped that."David sighed, tiredly.It's better this way, Sean.What?How can it?Let me explain everything to you.David said, getting up to stand eye to eye with me.
There was a hint of steel in his voice now and a flash of suppressed anger in his look.I shut up.Some things can be avoided if you know about them.Room 3 is like that.
If you know what it wants and how it'll try to get it, it's easier not to fall for it.But some things, Sean, some things only get stronger the more that you know about them.
You can avoid breaking rule 4 with what you know right now, you just need to keep watching.But the more that you know about it, the more direct the thing in the room can be in its attempt to get you to look away.
And the last guy, the one that I saw on screen, he knew too much, even more than you do now.It was a mistake that I will never repeat and a lesson that I will not forget. There's a threshold, Sean, that I can't allow anyone to cross.
If you know too much, no amount of willpower or strength will keep your eyes on that screen.Rule number five.If you encounter a room where all customers are looking directly at you and smiling, inform the manager immediately.
Rule 5 is the one which has raised the most questions in my mind about this cinema and my work.My encounter with it occurred about a year and a half into my time here.
Something that you should know about the work of a cinema usher, we need to check that every movie is running smoothly with working subtitles and so on.
We are only obliged to do so at the beginning of each projection, but if we have some free time during our shift, we like to check in at random to make sure that everything's alright.
Unfortunately, it's exactly because of this that I entered room 5 one day, only to almost have a heart attack as I realized that every single person inside was looking me dead in the eye, smiling eerily.
Taking care to not even blink, I slowly backed out of the room.The customers never broke eye contact, not even to blink.The second that I was in the relative safety of the lobby, I ran over to David who was talking with a customer at our small bar.
Rule number five, I said once I had reached him.David went pale.The customer, a young attractive woman, looked over at him in confusion.Excuse me, David muttered in her direction before turning to me. Which room?Five.Follow me."
We ran over to the room.Once inside, David gestured for me to remain at the bottom of the rows of seats.Stay here.He didn't need to tell me twice.
The room full of customers was deadly quiet, every head silently turning to follow David as he walked in front of the screen and stopped in the middle of the room.What do you want, he said to the room at large.
Every person in the room opened their mouth in unison and said, in a perfect chorus, Hello, manager.Long time.Cut the crap.Growl, David.I know your game.What do you want this time?The room laughed in a chilly and synchrony. Always so direct.
I always liked you.More than your predecessor, you know."David's jaw clenched.His hands were rolled tight.I had never seen him so angry.Just tell me what you want.He hissed through his teeth.Tell me what you want and then let these people go.
Ah, so impatient.So eager to get it over with.The crowd answered. I want you to open room 3 right now. David went pale.No, ask something else.There are lines that I will not cross.There are rules.
The things behind the eyes of the crowd laughed as one.Ah yes, your precious rules.You think they can stop anything.They stop nothing, David.They only delay it.Giving me information for free, David said sarcastically.
You've changed since we last talked. I only tell you what you already know, and my price does not change.You will open room 3 again."For the first time, David hesitated.Only for a second, but the things noticed and laughed cruelly at him.
I've already told you I won't do it.That rule is never broken, he said finally. Do you forget your history after a mere 13 years?"The crowd stared.The fate of these people is in your hands, David.
You know what happens to them when my price is not paid.Do you seek to atone with this meaningless resistance for the sacrifice that was made because of your mistake? I don't atone, David Hirst, and I made no mistake.
Would the one who you miss so dearly agree?I think not.The thing's intoned.There was a charge to silence, and then the crowd spoke again.The price has been paid.These people are safe. David blinked in confusion.What?What price?
Room 3 was never the price.The anguish of your remembrance as well as the unanswered questions that will now plague this servant of yours were the price.Screw you, David whispered.Till next we meet, Manager.
David stormed out of the room without another word.The crowd followed him with their gaze and then fixed it upon me.A smile, a nod, and then the crowd looked up as one and shed their identical behavior.A hidden tension was released.They were free.
Rule number six.If a customer hears noises in the air ducts, assure them that you'll look into it.Take one of the packages marked R6 from behind the bar.
Enter the air ducts through the garbage room and place the contents of the package at least 10 meters away from the entrance.Leave the air ducts as quickly as possible.
This is one of the easiest rules to follow, although the time limit is worrying at first.It's also one of the most commonly employed, usually coming up about once a week.Thankfully, I've never seen anybody fail to uphold it.
The first time that I had to feed the thing in the air ducts was a very busy shift.We had premiered at the Rise of Skywalker a few days before and we were still being swamped by crowds of customers.
I was cleaning up the lobby from the ever-present spilled popcorn when an angry-looking young man wearing a Star Wars shirt stormed over to me.Good day, sir.How can I... I began.Yeah, man, whatever.He cut me off immediately.
Could you fix your damn air conditioning, dude?There's something banging around in there near the grill in our room.I didn't pay for this kind of stuff. I clenched my teeth to control my temper at the man's manners, but managed to remain calm.
Yes, sir, of course.Sorry for the inconvenience.David will probably forgive you for letting a room of people die at the hands of God knows what, but he won't allow you to be rude to customers.He's kind of just like that.
After the customer had stocked off again, I got one of the marked packages from behind the bar.It was strangely heavy, and I could feel moisture seeping out from inside it.
In doing my best to ignore it, I crossed over to the garbage room and opened the grill covering the air ducts. I could hear whatever the customer had been complaining about.
A fast, tip-tap sound, like fingers drumming endlessly against the side of the dot.My skin crawled.It was uncomfortably too close to the sound of dozens of long, thin legs.I took a deep breath and I crawled into the chute.
The air inside was cold and draughty.The passage was tight and I was forced to go prone, propelling myself forward on my elbows and knees.
Crawling forward, I could see by the dim light that there was a pile of something up ahead, around the 10 meter mark.As I reached it, I groaned under my breath.In the chute before me lay a pile of gnawed animal bones.
With shaking fingers, I undid the wrapping of my package and I dropped a whole chicken onto the top of the pile of remains.The sounds and the shoot had stopped.I held my breath.And then it returned, faster.Tip-tap, tip-tap.
Louder than before, a frantic, hungry staccato rhythm.Terror and adrenaline flooding my brain, I scooted back downwards to the mouth of the passage.How long had I been there?How long did I have left?30 seconds, 20.
The clattering of legs was mixed now with a scraping sound as something chitinous and heavy dragged itself down the corridor towards the food, and towards me, and finally my legs met the end of the duct.
Kicking frantically, I dropped down to the floor of the garbage room, and I slammed the grill shut.The clattering inside had stopped. Listening carefully, I could make out the sound of tearing flash, and this is one of the easiest rules.
One of the rarest rules that we have is rule number seven.I've only ever experienced it once about six months ago, and I sincerely hope that I'll never have to deal with it ever again.Rule number seven.
If you notice shadows being out of sync with your surroundings, return to the last room that you were in as quickly as possible, alone.Close the door and then return to the lobby.Until you do so, do not touch your shadow under any circumstance.
The biggest danger that you can face in this job is becoming too used to the weirdness.That's the mistake that I made with rule number 7.I dropped my guard, I stopped paying attention.
I had walked to the other side of the lobby from room 6 before I realized that I had no shadow. Cold sweat covered my brow.I looked back the way that I had came.My shadow completely disconnected from me.
Lay on the floor by the door to room six, and another usher, a man by the name of Liam, stood between me and it. He was looking straight in my eyes, a narrow grin on his face.I had to think quick.
Whatever was going on, I had to get back to room 6, but with Liam in my way, I had no route to get there, not without confronting him.Sean, is everything alright?David called from the door to his office.He sounded concerned, worried even.
I mean, could I answer him?Would that just make things worse?I ignored the question and started heading back to room 6. The more I looked around me, the more clear it became how strange my surroundings were.
Every shadow was thrown in a different direction, as if each item was illuminated by a different light source. I was nearing Liam now.
I slowed down, walking in a manner that I hoped would appear nonchalant, if I could only get past him and to the door.David asked you a question, Sean.Liam sighed.The thin smile was still plastered over his face.
He stepped in front of me, barring my way.I heard him, Liam.I just forgot something in room six is all.And what was that, Sean?What did you forget? He knew I could see it in his eyes.
Liam, or the thing masquerading as Liam, knew what I was trying to do.It knew that I wasn't fooled by its act. I heard the office door open behind me.Footsteps approached.Sean?asked David.What did you forget?He walked around me to stand next to Liam.
I had to convince them that I didn't realize anything was wrong.I couldn't get to room 6 otherwise.Even if I did make it there, the rules said that I had to be alone.They couldn't follow me. I forgot to clean up a spilled drink.
I'll just get some paper towel from the garbage room and go finish it.I smiled weakly, cursing my quivering voice.It was a bad lie and I could see it in David's eyes.He wasn't convinced.Hey Liam, help him out with that, would ya?
He said, walking away to the office.Liam smiled at me again.It was a horrible sight. Well, let's go, Sean," he sneered.We walked to the garbage room.My mind raced as I tried desperately to think of a way out of this situation.
Liam was watching me from the corner of his eye, waiting for me to make a run for room 6.A desperate plan formed in my head.It was a gamble and for all I knew, the other rules of the cinema didn't even apply in this place, whatever it was.
but it was the only way to escape that I could think of.We entered the garbage room.Liam wasn't even acting inconspicuous anymore.He was looking straight at me, still smiling that horrible grin.
With Liam following, I walked to the back of the garbage room, and I punched him in the face with all my strength.
The thing wearing his body stumbled backwards, surprised, and in the second of time that bought me, I scrabbled at the air duct in the back of the room, opening it up at the last second.
The thing's fingers grabbed me from behind and turned me around to face it.The look of humanity that Liam had worn before was shredding off like a snakeskin.His face grew disproportionate, his eyes pools of shadow.He laughed in my face.
I knew you weren't fooled, I knew it.Well, playtime's over.Time for you to meet your shadow. I hope you like it here because you're going to be staying with me."I kicked out desperately, fighting against the thing's strength as it gripped my arms.
I managed to turn us around, ramming its back into the open air dite.It screeched in pain.Ever since your master has made me his foolish rules, I've been alone. Well, no more.First you and then him."
Finally, I had heard what I had been desperately hoping for, a sound coming from the air duct behind Liam, the scuttling of many thin feet.The thing had only a second to realize what I had done.Its eyes widened.
and then it was ripped backwards, as a terrible force tore it into the vent.Bones cracked as its back and legs bent in angles that they were never meant to, and then it was gone, screaming and cursing.I stumbled away from the wall.I had little time.
As I ran across the lobby towards room 6, the thing wearing David's body tore out of the office. It screamed in frustration as it sprinted towards me.I reached room six, my shadow coiled on the ground, trying to reach me but coming just short.
David was near, meters away from me, a cry of anger and desperation filling the air. I flung open the door, jumped inside, and slammed it behind me.Silence dropped like a stone.Cautiously, I opened the door again.The lobby was empty.
I looked down and heaved a sigh of relief.My shadow was once again at my feet.Rule number eight.If a garbage bag begins moving violently or making noises, dispose of it in the special chute in the garbage room.Do not open the bag.
One of the jobs that we have to do here is clear out the garbage room after every shift.This means loading all the trash up on a trolley and taking it to the basement parking lot, where a truck will come and pick it up every week.
Rule number eight is probably the worst after rule four.It's not as mentally scarring, but it can still mess your head up if you think too much about it.It certainly made me pretty miserable when I had to deal with it the first time about a year ago.
I was almost done with the trash that day.One more trip with the trolley should have done it.
I was looking forward to the end of my shift and the warm embrace of my bed at home, and that's when a garbage bag spasmed, dropping to the ground with a wet, organic thud, and it started screaming, Help me, oh God, please help me!
I screamed and jumped back.The bag writhed on the floor as whoever was inside it strained against the thick plastic.It cried out again in panic. God, please let me out.I can't breathe."My heart was pounding.
With shaking fingers, I reached for the bag to tear it open and free the person trapped inside.I grabbed at the plastic, and I froze.Rule 8.The thing in the bag screamed in pain and fear. Is anybody there?Please, you have to help me."
It started sobbing, the plastic shaking and curling in on itself.A chill ran down my back.This thing sounded human.It sounded as if it was in pain.It sounded real. but this place had taught me not to believe anything that I heard or saw.
Cautiously, I took hold of the bag.A hand shot out of the writhing mass and grabbed my arm.I yelled and stumbled back, breaking the thing's grip.Help me!You have to help me!I can't move!I can't breathe!I can't… The arm had been real enough.
I could still feel its grip where it had caught me.The arm had been human-sized. But no human could have fit into that bag.I grabbed the twisting, amorphous mass.The hands grabbed at me through the plastic as it screamed for help into my face.
Staggering with its weight, I lurched over to the garbage chute and dropped it over the edge.It caught onto the edge with its hands. Please, please," it whimpered, almost whispering where before it had been shouting.
I can't, I can't go back, please don't.I brought the lid of the chute down onto its fingers.It screamed, slid down the chute, clawed at the sides as it disappeared into the dark, and went silent. Rule number 9.
If anyone exits room 3 during a show, do whatever they ask.Inform the manager immediately.For all the wrong reasons, this story isn't like the others that I've told.This story will be different, and I'm not sure that I like that.
I'm not sure where it'll lead me in the cinema, because this story happened yesterday. Even though that David's warm to me in the time that I've been working here, I think that he might even trust me.He hasn't said anything about Room 3.
To be fair, I've been too afraid to ask.So, Rule 9 has always been a source of mystery and no small amount of apprehension. No one that I asked could even remember a time when they would have to obey it.
Strange though it may seem that no one had ever exited room 3 during a projection, at least not in the years that I've worked here.No one could remember David ever explaining the command or even talking about it.
Room 9 was as big a mystery as the room it concerned.So nothing could have prepared me for yesterday when the door opened and a smartly dressed man walked out of room 3.I froze in my tracks.
No amount of experience in this job could have prepared me for that. He walked over to me as I stood, staring in amazement and fear.Good evening, sir, he said.
His voice was flat, emotionless, a blank slate, but unlike the thing from Roll 4, it was unmistakably human.Good evening, I stammered finally.The man smiled in slight amusement. I wished to speak to the manager.Shit.
Right this way, sir, I replied, trying to fake a calm that I didn't feel.I wished that I could have told the thing to stay that I could have warned David, but it was as if my brain was on ice, sluggish and unresponsive.
We walked over to the office and entered. I didn't even have time to talk.David looked up, saw the man, and went to sickly pale.Rule 9, Sean.Yes.Leave us, please.Wait for me outside.I obeyed.Nothing could have made me remain in that room.
Absolutely nothing.I exited into the lobby and waited. Time went by and I could hear the murmur of conversation from inside the office.Occasionally David's voice would rise in volume and I swear that at one point I heard him weeping.
It was half an hour until David opened the door and walked out.He was even paler than before, like all the blood had left his body.His hands shook very slightly, but I noticed.
In the second before he had closed the door, I could see the room behind him.It was empty and the man had gone.David?I asked cautiously, not knowing what to say.Is everything… what happened?David fixed his eyes on me.
They were red, rimmed in bloodshot.Go home, Sean.Rest.Sleep.Prepare.Why prepare for what?We're going to break rules 10 and 11 tomorrow. Walking to work yesterday was the hardest thing that I've ever done.
Anticipation and fear mixed within me in equal measure.David's recommendation to rest and sleep had proven to be impossible to obey, and I had spent the whole night dreading what would come in the morning.
When I came to work I found the cinema empty, a sign at the entrance announced, closed temporarily due to equipment malfunction.David was already there, he sat in his unlit office staring at the wall in silence. I walked in and stood at the door.
I didn't have the courage to interrupt his thought.Eventually, he looked up.Sean, he said, his voice hollow.I'm sorry, my mind was somewhere else.He got up and walked over to me.You said that we were going to break rules today, I said.
Yeah, rules 10 and 11.Rule number 10.If you find a book bound in black leather on the premises, do not open it. Rule number 10, the black book as we like to call it.
You would see it at pretty much every shift and overcoming the need to open it was one of the first things you learned to do on this job.Nobody knew what was inside its yellowed ancient pages.It moved and shifted mysteriously.
You would see it in the corner of the garbage room propped up invitingly in the corner.
You would walk over to a room or to the office, only to see it first in the ground in the lobby, and then in the office itself, lying on David's table as if it had always been there.We had never even seen David open it.
Well, it seemed I was going to see so now.It took us an unusually long time to find the book, searching first the office and the lobby in the rooms. when we returned in defeat, only to find it sitting on one of David's filing cabinets.
He snorted derisively, and he went to pick it up.Its ancient-looking pages, yellowed by time, cracked as he opened it cautiously.From where I was standing, I couldn't see the words within, and moved to look at them over his shoulder.
David slammed the covers closed. Not yet, Sean.Soon."My temper flared.David, I don't know anything about what's going on.I don't know what we're here to do today and why we're breaking two of our rules.
I don't expect you to tell me everything, but you have to give me something.My anger receded as quickly as it had risen.I realized this was, despite everything, my employer.David smiled wily.There was a second silence. You're right, Sean.
You deserve to know something.I'm sorry.After 15 years in this job, you begin to get used to not telling anyone more than what they need to know.13 years ago, I made a mistake, Sean.Room 3 tricked me by using my affection for somebody close to me.
I opened the room and almost brought disaster on us all.It's ironic, only the sacrifice of the person I thought that I was saving helped delay disaster. What do you mean delay?Yeah, Sean, we borrowed time.Yesterday, that time ran out.
Unless we act, room three won't even need anyone to open it anymore.It will escape by itself, and I can't allow that.And the book, what is it?I guess you could call it a manual of sorts.The rules of the cinema are all in here.
He looked down onto the pages again. I could tell this impromptu informational talk was over.I could be happy for even the little that I had gotten.
David turned some pages scanning the contents, before pointing at a piece of the page and smiling to himself.Sean, I'm going to have to ask you to leave the room for a while.Just for a little bit, this won't take long. I hesitated, but obeyed.
Standing in front of the room, I could see David's shadow on the drawn blinds of his office window as he moved around.Suddenly, another shadow sprang up from behind him.It walked around until they stood face to face.
Another joined it, and then another. Muted voices reached me.David sounded resolute and determined.The answering voices, many talking over each other at one time, were sharp but barely heard whispers, like the drawing of a knife across skin.
The shadows gathered around David.He stood unmoving, his hands falling to his sides.The shadows leapt.They slid, merging with David's.And he disappeared. Not waiting for a command, I ran into the office.I crashed through the door.
David stood at his table, leaning on it tiredly and gasping for air, but he was unharmed.What the hell just happened?What the hell were those things?David chuckled to himself.I guess you could call them messengers, or taskmasters.
Could you please not talk in riddles for once, David?I said exasperated that even now I was being kept on a need-to-know basis.
I called out to something that shouldn't be called John, but this is a trying day and desperate times call for desperate measures.Let's go.It should be arriving soon enough and I would hate to keep it waiting.
He walked past me, still carrying the black book.After a second, I followed in mute frustration.Opening the door to the office, I saw what he had been talking about.Rule number 11.The lady in black.
Rule number 11, if a woman in a black dress offers you a drink, do not accept. A woman stood before us.She was tall, taller than either of us and her pale face contrasted with her deep dark hair.She wore a flowing, midnight black dress.
In her hands were a carved, wooden goblet.I had encountered the lady in black before.She, or it, walked around the cinema often, stopping ushers every now and then to offer them a drink from her goblet.
The liquid within was translucent and looked for all purposes like clear water.Somehow, I always doubted it was anything that harmless.
Thankfully, she never forces a drink on us, making her one of the least dangerous things that you could encounter here.When you refused, she would nod silently, understandingly, and move on.Now, she was here. Will you accept my chalice?"
she said almost whispering, her voice faint and unfathomably sad.I made to refuse it was almost muscle memory at that point, honed by dozens of encounters with her. But my words stuck in my throat when I realized that she wasn't looking at me.
She was talking to David.He was quiet for a second.I will, he answered finally.David, what are you?I began in confusion and panic and he cut me off.This has to be done, Sean.There's no other way that we can stop what's coming.
He turned back to the lady in black. It has been so long," she smiled faintly, and passed him the cup.Drink.David took the chalice.He hesitated for a moment, wavering.His face hardened suddenly.
He drank the cup in one quick drop, and then he gasped, stumbled, and dropped it to the ground with a thud. He leaned on me heavily and I almost fell over under his sudden weight.His face was sickly pale.
He coughed and specks of red fell to the floor.You have paid the price, the lady whispered.I have, David replied, shaking with more bloody coughing. Now for your side of the bargain.Indeed.What is it you seek?She smiled sadly.
I seek... I seek a way to halt Room 3 from breaking free.David was choosing his words carefully.He only had one shot at this, I realized. The lady frowned.You will not like the answer, child.Are you sure this is what you wish to know?
I am sure, damn you.David whispered through clenched teeth.A thin red trail ran down from the corner of his mouth.Tell me. The lady leaned forward to his ear.
She whispered to him words that I hope I never have to hear, and then she straightened her back again.The bargain is complete.Farewell, David.She turned and walked away from us as if nothing had happened.She rounded a corner.
Somehow I knew that she wouldn't be there if I looked. David turned to me.Blood was now dripping from the corner of his eyes, too.The black bug fell from his fingers.David, what did you do?What's happening?What did she tell you?
I had to lean forward to hear his reply, his voice weakening with every word.Go to the projection booth, Sean.Turn on all the projectors.Do it quick.The command in his tone was absolute.I ran for the projection booth.
I swiftly flipped every switch, moving from projector to projector.The whir of machinery filled the air.Empty though it was, there was now a show in every room of the cinema.I realized what David was doing.Too late, I realized.
I sprinted back for the lobby, taking the stairs from the booth three at a time.I had to be in time, I had to. He was not in front of the office anymore.
The black book lay open from where it had fallen to the ground, the only indicator that he had even stood there.I ran over to it and looked around the lobby.Of course, David stood before room three.His hand was on the handle.
He looked back at me, blood in his eyes.David, don't!I screamed.Thirteen years, Sean. Use them well," he called out to me.He smiled and then he opened the door.
The darkness on the other side was absolute, all light stopping the second that it hit the doorframe.David didn't hesitate.He stepped forward and closed the door behind him. I stood frozen.He was gone.There was a rumble and the air shook.
The door to room 3 rattled in its frame, as whatever was inside strained at the walls eager to escape, but it struggled in vain.Whatever David had done, whatever his sacrifice had achieved, It had robbed room three, bound it again, bought more time.
The rumbling subsided.The door had stopped shaking.There was silence.A rustle of the pages below drew my gaze.I looked down at the book at my feet.It was open on the last page.There was only one sentence on it, written in black ink.
Rule number twelve.There must always be a manager. I visited the Devilstone Inn.There's something evil in the basement.Written by DarklyGathers
The hanging plants and tasteful vines that adorn the walls of the Devil's Stone Inn have withered and died.
The walls themselves, typically a pearly white brick, have gone grey-orange beneath layers of dust, and glow menacingly with a faint red hue in the light of the setting sun.The shadows are thick and far deeper than they should be.
I adjust my stance and my long charcoal coat ripples by my legs in the wind.The hanging plants and vines of the pub before me remain perfectly still, however, as does the pub's sign and the weathervane atop its roof, all fixed troublingly in time.
Only the door of the Devil's Stone Inn has any life to it.It shimmers and warps when not in my direct line of sight, as if submerged beneath a body of water.The door is black and reeks of rot and decay.It taunts me.
I suppress a sudden burp, my mouth filling with the second-hand taste of the cider that they serve in the pub across the street. It's no use fighting demons on an empty liver.
As my dad always used to say, a little alcohol is good for the constitution.So, by that same logic, a lot of alcohol must be great for the constitution.It's what I've lived by and how it's worked pretty damn well so far.
When it comes to the combat of otherworldly beasts, that is, personal relationships, money management, woodworking, and so on, less so. Father Miller begins the woman to my left in an anxious tone.She glances nervously at my equipment.
My demon fighting tools, I mean.Get your mind out of the gutter.Is that really all you mean to bring into the pub, Father? She asked me, for the third or fourth time this evening, she's the landlady of the Devilstone Inn.
Ah, woman, I reply with a grunt, disappointed and disconcerted to find that the alcohol in my system has failed to adequately dispel my fear of the monster within the building before us. We'll get your daughter, I swear it.The odds are good.
I've fought the likes of beasts such as this before, and I'll be doing so again.Do you have your cross?Yes, father, I do, I do.With a shaking hand, she draws the thing from under her neck to show me.It glints and sparkles in silver. I nod.
I don't tell her this, but unless the demon that has taken up residence in her pub is a direct spawn of Satan's train, then to be honest, it'll likely be of little use.I roll my tongue around my mouth in thought.
Her belief in the cross might help her some, though, and the thing's material definitely will.Can't go wrong with a bit of silver on your person. Right.
I grip the bright green plastic water gun a little tighter in my calloused, silver-ringed fingers and I stride towards the black front door of the inn.Mrs. McGane keeps close alongside.My heart rate increases with every step.
The shadows in the corners of my eyes darken and warp, but I keep pace.I do not stop even with the replacement of the wind in my ears with a frightful whispering.
As the chill of the evening air is lost in favor of a sudden sickly warmth, I keep going.I raise a leg and kick through the door with an almighty and unapologetic slam.Coward, demon!
I bellow into the gloom of the pub, for I have entered into your lair without permission, as is my right as a dutiful servant of the light. I stride on in and raise the water gun up high.I aim it from wall to window, window to fireplace.
But there's no one to be seen.Silence.We cannot hear the wind now, even though the door is open.Father?Mrs. McGann begins and then gasps at the great black door as it's thrown shut behind us.
The smell of smoke starts to fill the air, but just the smell, mind you. It's confusing and tricks the brain into wanting to cough, but there isn't any smoke.Not really.The fireplace is dead and grey and our surroundings are clear.
Dark for sure, but quite clear enough.A lower level of red light filters in through the grimy windows.As if reading my thoughts, It's normally cleaner in here, Father Miller," says Mrs. McGain.I swear.I know it's well, Mrs. McGain.
I reply, licking my lips as I eye the taps on the counter of the bar.I know it well.Father Miller, my daughter... She'll be with the demon, and I suspect that thing is down in the basement.The cellar below ground, but just to be sure.
I step forward again and again. making my way into the very center of the Devilstone Inn.The presence of others is strong, as if the air that surrounds us is occupied by invisible watchers, creeping in discernible shapes of intangible mass.
I take a deep breath and then lower the water gun.From one of my many pockets, I draw a small bone that I keep on a silver chain. It is, as I've long believed, the bone from one of the fingers of the long-dead Archbishop, Thomas of Canterbury.
I hold it high in a proud fist and I speak loud to the room, my voice drawn from the depths of my beer-filled belly, a belly not quite as large as you're imagining, I should admit. Slaves of the darkness, I begin with a roar.
Slaves of the darkness and drifters of the grey.I declare this place is an outpost of the light.I claim it, as is my right.So reveal yourselves to me now, I command.
And the wind ceases at once with a great and final stirring of dust in whirls and spirals across the stone floor. Mrs. McGann stumbles, but I remain resolutely in place as my coat billows out to the side.
Keeping my eyes firmly upon the shape, I walk backwards to the inn's far wall, keeping the bone of the long-dead Beckett held high. There's a blackboard behind me used for writing specials of the day and other such pub information.
I carefully place the water gun on the table beside me, ready to grab it back up at a moment's notice, and I reach out a hand behind and fumble for what I know must be there at the blackboard's base, a piece of chalk of some kind.
Come on, there has to be a piece.The shape of the bar stirs.Bingo. My hand closes on the chalk and I bring it around.I crouch slowly to the floor and use it to shade a section of the stone beneath my feet in white.
Once done, I use the finger bone of Thomas Beckett to draw the shape of a cross and the fresh chalk stain.
Again, the strength of the cross will depend on what it is that we're dealing with here exactly, but for my purposes right now, it should suffice.
And sure enough, the second the cross is completed, the shape of the bar shimmers plainly into view, an emotion rehearsed beyond fluency and defected not by the alcohol coursing through my blood.
The magical bone is returned to its pocket and the water gun is back in my hands, aimed and pointed at the obscurity in the Devilstone Inn.Mrs. McGane shrieks loud, but her fear and my own concerns are quite misplaced, it would seem.
For now, at least.Before us, and sitting quietly and calmly, perched on a stool and drinking from a glass filled with mist, is no demon.No demon at all.His face is sad, but friendly. A young man of 25 or 26 perhaps, no older than 30 certainly.
Adorned in the WWII-era uniform of a RAF pilot, he nods to me and to Mrs. McGann, tipping his cap to the lady.He shines with a faint and foggy light and glimmers like morning sun through a frosted glass.
I cannot tell if he has color or if my mind is merely filling in the color that it thinks it should be seeing.Evening, Father.Mrs. McGane.I nod back to him cautiously and lower the water gun a little.Good evening, lad.
You're real," murmurs Mrs. McGann in return to her.You're real.You've been real this whole time.I miss, he says.I hope I haven't been any trouble.No, she says back bewildered.I watch his memories play out across her face.No trouble at all.
She pauses in thought. The fire of 2014, I've always wondered, were you the one that stopped it, young man?The pilot nods and little wisps of mist float up and away from his cap, disappearing into the darkness.That's right, miss.I did my duty.
Couldn't allow that smell of smoke to get any worse now, could I? You smell it too.I do.It comes and goes.Is someone going to introduce me?
I grunt and the pilot puts out his hands in apology and then stands up from the stool, his ghostly boots landing silently on the stone.Flight Sergeant Philip Davies of 222 Squadron.Pleasure to be at your service, Father Miller.
Hmm, you've seen me around then, lad.Yes, I can't believe it.Mrs. McGann says to herself, shaking her head, a real ghost in my pub.You've got worse than that in this dwelling tonight.I remind her and then nod to fill up. No offense.
The woman's face hardens.Sergeant, I have strong reason to suspect my daughter is being held in the building against her will.Have you seen her?Yes, the pilot replies, settling back into his seat.
He takes a swig from his foggy glass, but it makes no sound as he clings it against the faded wood of the bar. The demon has her.He's taken up residence here, as I'm sure you know now.He took her down below.Did he say anything to you?
Think carefully now, anything at all.The pilot takes another sip.I offered the creature a seat, invited him to come share a drink with me, but he declined. I could feel his revulsion inside my own head at the mere suggestion.
He called the alcohol poison.The airman takes another sip.En vino, Veritas. I reply, in wine there is truth, and the truth has never been particularly palatable to demons.I rub my stubble jaw.
The demon relationship with drinking, one of humanity's oldest pastimes, is a complex one.The gears in my own drunk brain grind as I weigh up what kind of a creature we're facing here.Did you get a good look at him, Philip?
Was he a thing of mass or smoke? Neither.The ghost replies as the reddish light through the windows grows thinner and thinner.He adjusts his uniform jacket and looks right into my eyes through the gloom.He frightened me, father.
Despite the growing warmth, a chill shoots down the length of my spine.He frightened me.Nothing frightens me anymore but this demon.His presence by merely engaging him in conversation. The Philip trails off a little and then gathers himself.
It felt as if I were standing on the edge of a cliff.A cliff of impossible height, above an uncaring ocean of a swirling void. The pilot turns back to his drink.He's waiting, you know.He's waiting for you.I would set my cuffs on it.
He looks to Mrs. McGain.He's using your daughter as bait.I would stay optimistic.She's certainly alive and she can still be saved.I would know if she had crossed over. He begins to glimmer and sparkle at the edges.
The smell of smoke grows stronger and the stones begin to feel hotter against my feet, even through the boots.
Flickers of sparks and embers in the fireplace draw my gaze and I step on over, quickly putting them out with a well-aimed pump from the water gun. The charcoal hisses and steams bitterly in response.Thank you for your assistance, Philip.
I say to the ghost and he raises his glass.Pleasure.One last thing, do you have your knife on you, father?He asks me as his form starts to fade.
I'm a little surprised at this question, but if Philip is a true lingerer in this pub, then he's likely seen me show it off before to my fellow patrons. Yes, I have it.I reply and the spirit gives me a thumbs up.Good.
He replies and without another word, he's gone.The shadows spill in like water to fill the void that he leaves behind.I look to Mrs. McGain as the stones beneath our feet start to steam.The room darkens, and the demon awaits us below.
With Mrs. McGinn in front, she leads me by the bar and past shelf after shelf of spirits and glasses.Down we go through a corridor in the stone and supported by ancient wooden beams and the heat rises.
Sweat begins to leak in little streaks down the sides of my face, and at last we approach an open doorway at the end of the hall. The last doorway.Beyond it is pitch blackness, a set of stairs leading down into the unknown.The cellar.
Mrs. McGain murmurs quietly.I expect her to retreat and to hide herself behind me, but to her credit, she does not.Her presence here is in itself a miracle, I suppose.I did not force her to come with me.
I would take out that cross of yours now, Mrs. McGain. I tell her and she solemnly draws it up from within her collar and rests it against her front.I don't suppose the lights are working.That's the switch there.
She points into the darkness and I squint and sure enough, I can just about make out a switch in the stone a few steps down.Very well, would you care to give it a try?She grits her teeth and turns to me in a panic.
I can't go down there father, please don't make me go down there.She fumbles for words.The heat alone, there's no way we're going to make it to the bottom.It's just a few steps for now Mrs. McGane.
I raise the super soaker in my hands a little higher and the water inside sloshes about. I'll cover you.You can do this.Test the light and then return up here.Father... I understand this goes against what I was just saying, by the way.
That I'm not forcing Mrs. McGann to do anything against her will.But an idea has occurred to me.One that I wish to test out.As Philip the Ghost reminded me, Mrs. McGann, the landlady, has a history with this place.Ownership and connection.
And there's a power in that. Mrs. McGann, remember what's at stake here.Give the switch a try, please."She swallows and pales, but without further hesitation, she does as I say.Striding into the inky darkness, she descends, step by step.
Wrapped in the first few layers of shadow, she reaches out and presses a shaky finger against the switch.Nothing.She tries it hastily a couple more times and then quickly backs up until she is beside me once again.Shit, it didn't work.The heat.
She mutters, tugging at her sweat-stuck sleeves.She struggles to maintain her composure. How can my daughter be down there, father?How can she be okay in such heat?It's an illusion, I reply with absolute false certainty.
I look her right in the eye, and with iron conviction, I say it again.The heat is nothing but a deception, Mrs. McGann.How can the temperature rise as we descend into the cool of the earth?Your daughter is alive.She could not survive this heat.
Ergo, the heat is false. But Father, how can you be so sure?The logic is sound.It's an illusion, Mrs. McGann.I swear it on the light.And by doing so, reader, in the moment I make it so, I am positive.
I would have not otherwise felt able to make such a promise.
I see the belief appear in the face of Mrs. McGinn and with a nod I gently push past, detaching an electric torch from my belt and holding it against the water gun as I begin my descent, allowing the beam to guide the way.
The light switch may not have worked, but something has. The temperature responds to its orders and cools with rapidity.
The sweat upon my skin turns to ice as we make our way down the rickety steps into the dank deep darkness beneath the Devil's Stone Inn.Down we go, down, down, down. My breath starts to cloud and fog in the light of the beam.The claustrophobia grows.
Mrs. McGane.I murmur into the heavy silence.How long until we reach the cellar floor?Oh Christ, she whispers.We should have made it by now, I don't understand.We should have reached the bottom.He's a trickster, this one.
How many steps are there normally?I don't know.Just take a guess, I say.I smack my tongue around my mouth.I can still taste the cider quite clearly.Curious numbers to guess, I think to myself, but so be it.Look at your feet, Mrs. McGain.
There's enough light from the beam of the torch to see.Count the steps with me. As you say, Father.
One, two, and so we go on counting the steps and by step number twenty these stairs come at last to their belated end on the cool stony floor, carved into the earth and rock beneath the pub.
Tricks can be overcome, I say to her as I look around at our new surroundings. The beam of the torch falls on the edges of barrels and bottles, stacked up on high.
There is a beating down here, from the very walls themselves, as if they were thrumming caverns of a great black art.I can't see it as such, but I can sure as hell feel it.I draw in a deep, cold breath and begin my ritual.
I pull from my pocket the bone of the old Archbishop St.Thomas and hold it up high. Slaves of the darkness, I begin but the words are faulted this time.The air may be cold but it's also thick.
I struggle to project and the sensation that I feel now is of tripping at the starting gun.But I'd be gone and I cannot stop and start again. SLAVES OF THE DARKNESS AND DRIFTERS OF THE GREY, I DECLARE THIS PLACE IS AN OUTPOST OF THE LIGHT.
I CLAIM IT AS IS MY RIGHT.SO REVEAL YOURSELVES TO ME NOW.NO comes the interruption and my voice catches clean in my throat.The voice was not Mrs. McGann's and I can feel her freeze up beside me.I try to speak and find that I'm unable to.
The bone in my hand is just that now.A bone. where it once appeared a pearly white beacon, it now looks cracked and cream grey, and something slithers around in the darkness of the cellar.
I cannot see the far walls even with the beam and I get the impression that the natural surroundings have been stretched, unnaturally and beyond their means. The slithery creature drifts in and out of sight, like a crocodile in the murk of the swamp.
It swims slowly around and around, its voice deep and masculine.Father Miller, you disgusting stain.A true displeasure it is to see you again, and you've brought me a ritual sacrifice.Mrs. McGane stares at me in horror. The beast lies, I shout.
You're no sacrifice, woman, I swear it.The stairs, she stutters, looking around wildly.Father, the stairs are gone.I took them away, speaks the demon. and they'll be brought back one way or another.I grunt, sweating profusely now.
All around me is darkness, as far as the light will reach in every direction.Wooden pillars and wine bottle cabinets and grade-stacked barrels scattered amidst. But no walls anymore.To what evil do you owe your allegiance, demon of the dark?
I say into the shadows.I can feel him watching me.His gaze carries an almost physical weight to it.He answers my question with a question.To what evil is bound your will, father? I am a servant of the light.You are a slave to a great number of vices.
You disgust me.Where is the girl, demon?Show her to us.I have taken the girl.She is gone.There is only us.Liar.Show her to me or I'll take my leave.I know you want to speak with me and I'll entertain you.
I'll entertain you on the condition that you show us the girl. You cannot leave.I've taken the stairs.You don't have the power for such measures.You're a weakling.A weak little fairy.Tricks and jokes is all that you can manage.
The words are largely hollow, but they carry just enough of a sting to irk the demon, as was my hope.I hope that he can smell my fear.Every conversation with a demon is a power struggle, and I have to win this one around in my favor.
There is a hiss of frustration that echoes all around, and a figure comes stumbling towards us out of the dark. Jesus, I bellow in alarm.
Mrs. McGain screams loud and we draw together, watching as a corrupted little girl comes a-shambling from the shadows, like a puppet on invisible strings.It's Eden McGain, the landlady's daughter.
Her skin is grayed and cracked, her head swivels loosely from side to side and her eyes shine like burning embers in a face of dusty coal. Her jaw cracks open and it looks as if she means to speak with some new and terrible voice.Eden!
shrieks Mrs. McGane, and I raise these super soaker in my arms.I take aim and I pump for all that I'm worth. The water within it is blessed, of course, and an icy stream is blasted right into the young girl's smoky face.
She staggers back and then crashes down onto her side.She screams and wrys.Great clouds of steam billow up from her skin and pour out into the surrounding cellar.
Mrs. McGane enters into a babbled string of panic nonsense, but I grab tight to her arm.Remember Mrs. McGane?Tricks and illusions, it's all tricks and illusions.I pump some water out willy nilly into the surrounding darkness for good measure.
The demon laughs, a sickening sound in the gloom.A toy?You come hoping to fight me and you bring with you a toy? I won't be doing any fighting.I reply loudly as the possessed Eden rise and screams.
I'll be telling you what to do and you'll obey like a good dog.You'll listen to my commands as is your place.And besides, this isn't a toy.I spent almost 30 pounds on this thing. The corrupted girl on the floor foams grimly at the mouth.
The light in one of her eyes has been extinguished, but the other glows with bright malice.She raises herself up onto all fours and begins to crawl rapidly towards us.
I stagger back with revulsion and horror, but before I have a chance to raise the water gun I hear, to my surprise, the impassioned voice of Mrs. McGann. Stop where you are!
She shrieks, holding out before her the chained-to-silver cross that hangs around her neck.Her hand shakes, but the cross sparkles in the light of the torch.You are not my daughter!Release her!Leave her alone! To my amazement, the monstrosity stops.
The thing with Eden's body cracks round its head to stare up at Mrs. McGann, and they regard each other in strained silence.
This obedience, however, whether to credit it up to authority in Mrs. McGann's voice, to the silver cross, to the familial bond between the parties, or even to simple curiosity, I cannot say.
She has stopped though, and I take the opportunity to blast a jet of blessed water right into her distended jaw.She chokes and gags and screams shrilly, but she scuttles away back into the darkness.
The ember-like light in her eye lingers a little longer than the rest of her, and then it swivels around in her head lost with the rest of her to the shadow. I stride after her, torch and super soaker held high.
Mrs. McGain, undoubtedly pumped full of adrenaline, keeps pace.The demon may have distorted my request to see the girl, but it was nonetheless obeyed.I take strength from that as I march past the bottles and barrels into the darkness.
What's in these barrels, Mrs. McGain?I ask her under my breath.Wine mostly, father. The dark barrels all have wine.I see.Thirsty, Father Miller, comes the taunting voice of the demon from no particular source.
Desperately so, aren't you going to offer a drink to your guests?Take the bait, I think to myself.He does so.Yes, so you recognize yourself as an intruder in a place under my authority.
How pitiful, so you really consider yourself an authority over a damp and dingy pub cellar?Is this your kingdom, demon?Are the barrels and bottles your loyal subjects?
The demon hisses with frustration and the glow of the torch seems to shine a little sharper.I see the silver of the cross of Mrs. McGann twinkle bright in the corner of my eye. Show yourself to me, demon.I roar suddenly.
It's likely to fail at this stage, but I try anyway.I feel the creature cower back into the darkness, but still, he doesn't show himself.What business do you have with me?Why lure me down into this place?I ask.The demon does not respond.
We've come here for Eden McGain.Release her unto us and be gone from the basement of this inn.Have you really sunk so low?There are better places for you surely.Be gone or I will cast you out with light and fire.You threaten me with fire, father?
I come to a stop.I don't think there's much use going on any further.Our surroundings are just the same, repeated over and over.Barrels and wooden pillars, stacked bottles and shadows.
I should think that we're probably walking in circles if we're even covering any actual distance at all.I cast the torch from pillar to pillar and barrel to barrel.I still don't know if this particular demon is of Satan's strain.
He's using the uncertainty against me.I think he probably is of the strain, but I can't be sure. I threaten you with more than fire, O ye unwanted lodger.Mrs. McGame breathes deeply beside me, her eyes wide and searching.
Your power to threaten dwindles with the years, and the years go rushing by, don't they, Father Miller?I swallow, shivering in the icy darkness.
I could be ninety-nine in nine months, demon, and I would still channel the light with the same degree as I ever did. Your grip on the light grows weak.As you pump your body and mind full of earthly poisons, the connection steadily fades.
It is irreversible.You have felt this, Father Miller. I begin to feel for the first time the sensation described to us by Sgt.Phillip, the ghost at the bar.My mind feels hazy and confused as I feel myself teetering on the edge of a great black cliff.
The voice of the demon throws off my balance.I could fall at any moment.I could fall and find myself lost to the churning void far beneath and all the horrors contained within. No, I mutter.False.I try to remember what I was saying.
I try to continue my train of thought, but it has been derailed.Fire?Was I talking about fire?I brought you here to bring about your end, Father Miller. Your presence on the plane is an irritant.Your toys and trinkets insulting.
Accept your waning grip on the throat of the light.Let it go and perhaps I will release you.Otherwise I will slay you down here in the dark. You have no real strength, demon," I murmur.
You cannot slay me and you cannot release me, as I have never been bound to you.You are bound to me.I summoned you and you came.This doesn't sound right.Sweat leaks in icy rivers down my back.No.Father Miller, speaks the demon.Your torch is broken.
The torch in my hand burns hot with a sudden painful intensity.The light flickers and there is nothing that I can do but release my grip.
The last thing that I see is the terrified face of Mrs. McGane as the torch strikes the hard stone floor and smashes, plunging the two of us into pitch and shivering darkness.
"'The matches, Mrs. McGain,' I hiss, fumbling in one of my pockets for a candle."'Do you have the matches?'"'I do, Father.'She splutters in strained reply.She stands right beside me, but I can't see her at all.I can't see a damn thing."
The demon laughs."'Renounce the light or suffer, Father Miller.' The sounds of snakes slithering and scenting the air with their tongues rise up all around.I struggle to ignore the sensation of the reptiles brushing and rubbing against my feet.
Mrs. McGann is about to speak out, I sense it. Remember, Mrs. McGane, tricks and illusions are tricks and illusions.This demon has no real power with which to boast.The match is now as quick as you can.
She tries the first and I hear it snap uselessly against the box.I feel one of the snakes begin to wrap itself around my leg.It's alright, I try another.The second again snaps uselessly.I grit my teeth.
And with a little flash, match number three lights up in a low but warm orange.Mrs. McGain touches the flame to the tip of the candle and our immediate surroundings become a little clearer.
A quick glance down to the ground reveals that there are, of course, no snakes. I reach into my pocket for the chalk, stashed from the lobby upstairs, and I drop it to the ground, drawing a hasty circle on the floor around myself and Mrs. McGane.
The demon laughs again.A circle of chalk?That's not going to protect you, Father Miller.It helps, honestly.My mind clears a little.I take a step back from the precipice. And we won't be leaving your crude little lair until you've released the girl.
Release her demon.Release the body of Eden McGang.Abandon the light.I grimace.An impasse then. I need to remain on the front foot.The demon takes great delight in throwing me off kilter and I must deny it this pleasure.
It fills the shadow of this cavernous cellar.It swells like the throat of a monstrous frog.It buzzes around and around like a great and merciless swarm. Why this pub, demon?Why this inn out of all of them?Why should I choose any other?
You are a regular glutton at this house of sin.Where else best to strike at your constitution?You will be drawn to the void for your indulgence in such poisons.Your very soul is at stake, as you know, Father Miller.How kind of you.
I begin holding high the candle.The light catches on the barrels and bottles nearby. How kind of you to show such care and concern for the well-being of my soul.I'm touched.I feel a shiver of the demon's irritation returned.
Renounce the light and I will spare you.This is a weak response, I know it.And better still, the demon knows that I know it. This hideout is pitiful, a spot of the wastes.I bellow gleefully into the dark.
I channel the alcohol in my blood and push through the enduring fear.With no disrespect to you, Mrs. McGane, I say turning to the landlady white as a sheet, but a common pub and the cellar of such-a-that didn't fancy sharing a building with a ghost.
Is that it, demon?Is that how you wormed your way into this place? You piggybacked off the work of a lesser spirit.I force out a laugh into the shadows.Pathetic.The demon bristles and a long low hiss reverberates through the air.
The ground trembles in dust clouds above our feet.If you will not renounce then I will send you to the void.You'll do no such thing, I roar, for you are not able. What have you actually achieved, demon?
You've taken up residence in the dank and dark of a pub cellar and poured all your strength into the possession of a little girl.Weak.Such pitiful existence. The demon grows angry.
Goosebumps ripple across my skin and a low moan escapes the throat of Mrs. McGane.You are a disease, Father Miller.I see the weapons you conceal in your coat.That knife of yours, pretty, yes, but quite useless.
In me you will find no target with which to strike the blade.You have led yourself and an innocent to your death.You will suffer for your hubris. Big talk, little demon.I retort, sweating.This is it now, the endgame.This either works or it doesn't.
What's stopping you?A circle of chalk in the ground.Come at me if you dare.Come claim us if you can.And then with a burst of sudden and heated breeze, the chalk circle around our feet is blown clean away in a shower of dust.
Like a fuse, it starts at the point of entry and fizzles quickly around.The demon has responded to my taunts, pressured into a demonstration of strength and this will exhaust him.So now is the time, if I mean to act, then now it is.
The demon has shifted his position.I feel the pull and the charge of the currents in the air.I leap forward before the circle has been entirely extinguished and brandish the knife.
A risky move as I have to drop the water gun to the ground with a clatter of plastic.The metal glints in the orange light of the candle and I stab the blade, not into any invisible formless monster, but into the barrels of wine.
Stabbing and stabbing, the wine starts to burst and leak from the wood, pouring out over my legs and quickly soaking the stones, flowing in rivers to the feet of Mrs. McGann and the dusty remains of the chalk.
I grab the edge of one such barrel and haul it to the ground with a grunt. It slams noisily to the floor and outpours the wine in glorps and gurgles and spouts.The blood of the Lord.
I bellow with a forced grin, cupping a hand beneath the spout and drawing it to my lips for a drink.The demon is, quite rightly, incredulous.I feel it.You've lost your mind, Father Miller.I expected better of you.Far, far better.
He falters and pauses.He pauses. The demon weakened from his power displays and struck with such an entity has lost momentarily his words.This is a demon's true weakness, and in the face of this weakness I launch my final strike.The true strike.
I clench my fists and raise the candle up high, forcing my spirit into the crack that the demon has laid bare.Slave of the darkness and drifter of the grey, I declare this place an outpost of the light.I claim it as is my right.
There is no blaze for you here and I cast you out."The candle bursts into a sudden inferno of golden light.A great ball of fire, pulses and ripples of circular amber light are thrown out and into the far distance.
The shadows are lost in favor of the light and our surroundings burn with glorious warmth as the hair on my head is sent blowing and billowing back from my head.
I can feel the white and the orange reflect like precious stones in my eyes, and I can sense the demon cower back in dismay.Release the girl and be gone.Be gone, I say.I will not command again.And with a final, shivering pulse, the demon is gone.
Just like that, and without further remark, the demons hold and our immediate space is lost with a rumbling shudder.A body falls from the shadow itself, Eden McGain.
She falls to the ground but Mrs. McGain jumps from her place and crouches down to catch her before she can strike the stone.Eden, she says in a breathless voice and the girl groans and murmurs.Gone is her smoky complexion and the embers in her eyes.
She looks pale now, pale but alive. The almighty light from the candle shimmers in the pooling wine about our feet and then it gradually starts to die out.Its job is done after all.
It does not extinguish completely mind, just back to its former amiable glow.I blink as my eyes readjust to the shadows and I catch my breath, allowing my heart rate to settle and pulse to slow. The demon truly is gone, I can tell.
The air feels lighter and the shadows are not quite so deep, and as my vision returns to me the truth of our surroundings becomes plain.We are not stood in some endless, vast and yawning chasm.In some place beneath logic and geometry and space,
There are no great leagues of shadow marching away into the unknown.There is only a modest and manageable pub cellar, a little dank for sure but perfectly normal.
The barrels and bottles are far from infinite and in fact, barrel-wise, I can count only five, three of which have been stabbed and split by myself.Wine leaks from the tip of my knife to splash in the puddles by our feet.
The walls are plain, there's the occasional shelf, a diagram torn in one corner, on the proper way to poor Guinness, a cobweb or two, and turning around reveals these stairs right where we had left them.
Faint light filters down from the open doorway at their head.Good Christ, I murmur, and I waver where I stand as the stress leaves my body.A tough one, indeed.Father calls Mrs. McGann, and I swivel.
My eyes go straight to the girl to Eden McGann, but other than a slightly fevered complexion, she looks relatively fine.She is awake, confused, but altogether unharmed. Mrs. McGann starts shaking her hands, and I realize that she's pointing.
I follow her finger to a crack in the center of the pub floor, right between the stones.I clench my jaws.The crack suddenly widens and darkens, pushing aside the stones, and I can see the air above it ripple and shimmer.
But before it has a chance to open any further, I drop to the ground, and into the crack, I slam the knife, blade first.
It strikes with a clang and a ring and a shudder is sent painfully at my wrist and arm, but the ground around the metal freezes in place.I cautiously release my hand and the knife remains fixed where it stands, stuck rigidly between the stones.
The progress of the crack is halted. Will it hold?"Mrs. McGann asked quietly.I cannot be sure if she understands the gravity of the question.It will, I reply.
I pick up my water gun, still almost half full, and without another word, the three of us take our leave, climbing up the stairs and back into the body of the Devil's Stone Inn.
One last look behind shows the knife, glistening at its edges, fixed into the ground, and in the ground is where it'll stay. It's nighttime now, though it's lighter in the pub than it was before.The smell of smoke has completely disappeared.
The windows don't look anywhere near so grimy, and the moonlight filters in, bright and silver. It catches on the cap of Flight Sergeant Philip Davies of the 222 Squadron.He nods to us and to the girl.Look at yourself, Father Miller.
Take it easy on the drink.You don't need as much as you think you do, I promise.Aye, lad, I reply.I'm still shaking, but I'll be alright.I hear you.
He watches me until I've returned the piece of chalk to its ledge beneath the blackboard and then he nods with a quick sad smile.
Until next time, he says, and as a trio of mortals we watch as he vanishes beneath the shadow of a passing cloud, making its lazy way across the face of the moon. 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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