Ghosts of the Internet

It was late one night.  Got a call from a friend to meet him at a bar down on 4th.  Usually I wouldn't even entertain the thought of going out when I had work the next day but James was beyond himself with fear.  He had experienced something and he needed someone to talk to.  He was a friend so I decided to hear him out.  Perhaps I should have just gave into my laziness.  Maybe I should have said no but I didn't and now my fear is slowly eating away my reality.  I'm not even sure if any of it is real but whatever was eating James with fear I think maybe is slowly doing the same to me. 

I was at the bar already when James walked in. 

“I’m sorry I’m late Greg had to um, take a longer way than usual.  I‘m barely holding it together right now.”

“Why whats up? Whats wrong?” I asked noticing the warm sweat beading from his brow. He ordered a double shot of whisky before he began his tale. He looked absolutely horrible. James was a built guy. Muscular and tall. But that night he looked frail, thin and boney. His eyes were sunken and bloodshot with huge dark rings around them.
“I dunno man, I’m really freaking out,” he said wiping the sweat away.
“Well tell me about it, you got me out here. How about you start and I‘ll order a drink,” I said as I waved over the bartender.
“I probably shouldn't be even telling anyone," he said looking back over his shoulder to the door.  "But I don't know what to do anymore."

"Oh come on," I said.

"Okay okay," he replied as he wiped his face.  "So I was browsing Youtube about a few weeks ago right, just searching for random ass videos like I usually do. Then I got in the mood to look up some spooky vids because you know me I love all that paranormal shit. That was a bad idea Greg.”
“Yeah?” I replied grabbing some peanuts and tossing a few in my mouth.
“Well, one link led to another and I found my way to what felt like the abandon parts of the internet you know. Places that felt like no one ever goes anymore or ever did.  It was weird man.  Its like in a city ya know. You got the old parts and then you got the abandon parts of the city. Well, I was definitely in the abandoned part of the old parts. Real low-res websites, no comments, no pics, nothing, just text upon text against ugly backgrounds of repeated patterns. I mean, these sites felt old. Anyway, most of them didn’t hold anything too interesting but I continued to click on links and most only had one link somewhere on their page. Each led to another dumpy website then I start noticing a connection between them right.”
“Here’s your shot of whisky,” the bartender said.
“Thank you,” I replied. “Oh, and open tab. Thanks.” I slammed back the whisky in one gulp and let the burn rise up through my throat. I liked the burn. It woke me up. Reminded me to watch my drinking.  “So the websites had some connection…” I said tossing another peanut into my mouth.
“Oh yeah. Well, like I said they were just text. Oh and bartender, can I get another shot of whisky also,” he said pulling out cash with his left hand. “Thanks. So the sites, yeah, umm, you could just scroll and boring text all the way down and they’re written like journal entries; like a blog. It was just nonsense most of it but something about it was spooky and you know me, I liked that feeling of being creeped out so I continued. But I start noticing a date keep reappearing, June 6th. All those sites had it somewhere on them, every single one of them. Then finally, after about an hour of clicking through links I find a video embedded on a site. Just a video, nothing else. The background was some sort of dark wood finishing with a weird repeated animal shape and a star. The weird part was the video was titled June 6th. I was starting to get that creepy excitement you get when you feel like you’re on to something. Well, I was Greg, just didn’t realize I was going to shit bricks afterwards.”
“Its really got you spooked huh?” I said.
“More than spooked Greg, I don’t feel comfortable in my own skin. I feel like…” he stopped for a moment looking over the bar making sure no one was listening before he continued in a whisper. “I damned my soul.”
“Get the fuck outta here,” I said letting out a small chuckle.
“I’m serious Greg," he said looking over to the front window as if checking if someone was there.
“Yeah, you’re just trying to make your story more dramatic or trying to get me to fall for it. How about you let me see the video?”
“That’s the thing Greg,” he replied turning his head back around and grabbing his newly placed whisky shot, “I can’t find the video anymore,” he said as he threw the shot down his throat. “…or the websites.”
“You can’t find them?”
“No and I’ve looked. Believe me, I looked.”
“Sounds a little convenient. How did you find them in the first place?”
“I told you, browsing Youtube and watching creepy videos and I started clicking links in the comment sections and eventually it led me there. But that‘s not the point.”
“So what did the video show?” I asked with a skeptical eye.
“At first it was just someone walking through empty apartments. I thought maybe it was a video of someone shopping around for apartments, you know, just documenting potential places. It would seem to be uninteresting right but something about it seemed very creepy and unsettling so I kept watching. As they were moving through rooms it always felt like something was going to be behind one of those empty corridors but it was mostly nothing until the end. This is where it got weird.  Whoever was recording entered MY apartment. It was empty but I could still recognize my apartment because they went into the bedroom first and the view out the window was the same one I have. Then they go into the empty living room and in the middle laid a big black garbage bag filled with something," he said looking over at the window again.  He looked really tired and paranoid.  "So," he continued,  "the bag just laid there for a few moments and then it began to move. Writhing around on the ground like a slug or something. Not thrashing, just moving. It didn’t appear to be a person in it because there was no hands or feet pushing out on the plastic. Just some kind of mass of flesh writhing and gyrating around underneath.”
“That is pretty creepy man,” I said taking a sip of my new drink.
“Yeah and it gets worse. Then the video goes black right and I just stare at a black screen for a few seconds and then it comes back on but this time it isn’t of some black bag moving around and slithering on the ground. No, its of me looking at me like through a webcam or something. And it seemed to be in real time. But the freakiest thing, the part that started all this bullshit and unsettled fear in me was that there was someone standing behind me. I couldn’t recognize him but he was standing there smiling with sharp white teeth and huge bulging eyes and black pupils towering at probably seven feet tall looking down at me. I immediately freak and turn around and of course no one is there. I turn back around and he's still there standing behind me. Then my computer shuts itself off.  I left for my bedroom but I couldn't get to sleep that night.  I tried laying down because I didn't even want to touch my computer again or even look at it.  But as I laid there the feeling that someone was watching me was stronger than ever.  It literally felt like that man with the huge eyes and sharp white teeth was standing at the edge of my bed but I couldn't see him,” he said as he looked over shoulder again.
“Damn man, that is some creepy shit. But its not true, right?”
“Its true man, I’m telling you.”
“So did you ever see that weird guy again?”
“I did," he said as he fixed the sleeves to his coat.  "I saw him the next night standing out on my balcony. I had the blinds opened and in the space in between I could see his teeth and huge bulging eyes staring at me and it sure as shit wasn’t my mind playing tricks. If you saw what I saw, you would know it wasn’t my mind. Anyone would know. There was someone there. It was real.  I got up and grabbed something to whack the shit out of it with but it disappeared.”
“Damn dude. I think you’re haunted. Maybe I should stay away from you. Maybe its contagious,” I said trying to joke. I gulped the last sip of my drink.

“Its not funny man. After that I started having overwhelming feelings of fear and dread. Like something bad was going to happen. I couldn’t shake that feeling of those eyes watching me either. I knew they were real, deep down I knew I wasn’t crazy that I saw what I saw. I began seeing other things too Greg. Shadow things everywhere I went and at night I could see faces in the walls and windows. Faces of agony. Like they're howling out in pain.  My grip on reality, my sanity, everything is beginning to be tested Greg and I don’t even know if right now I have a grip.  All I know is that its real but I don't want it to be.”
He stopped for a moment staring at the bar counter with glazed over eyes, lost in thought. I placed my hand on his shoulder and asked if he was alright. He jerked his head toward me with wide eyes and said yes.
“I’m sorry Greg, its really taking a toll on me,” he continued sinking his face in his left hand.
“Its alright James. Its gonna be alright.”
“You know, I spoke with it. Whatever He is.”
“What?” I said with a confused look.
“It came to me again one night. I was laying in bed lost in thought unable to sleep like most every night and I began hearing voices in my head. It wasn’t in English at first so I thought it was just my head. But then it said my name.”
“Now you’re creepy me out man, are you serious?”
“It said James. I know your fears. I know your sins. Your mind is accepting the horrors we want you to see. The horrors you know are real. You are becoming our vessel. One of many. Your world is but one layer. We have only just begun to harvest you. Then I asked it if it was a demon and it told me Demon is such a simple name. We are more than that. Our web that has covered your world is only the beginning. A hive mind we intend to harvest. So easily to hand over your soul. Why are you talking to me? I asked it and it said, because James. You are near your damnation.  My soul, my will, everything is in complete disarray. I can’t find myself anymore. Am I crazy?”
“I don’t think you’re crazy. But I think your mind is in state of illness. Something is happening up there. It’s a disorder or you’re just way too tired. I think you’re in a lucid dream state or something.”
“I’m not though,” he said in a defeated tone. “He told me he liked to eat the flesh of the living and that I was next for him to feast on,” he sunk his head down low letting out tears. Soft whimpers escaped his mouth as he tried to grab his drink. “I’m damned Greg. Damned.”
“No you’re not. You’re fine. You’re here right now.”
He looked over to the window and a look of dread washed over his face, “I gotta go Greg. Im sorry.  Thanks for listening but it is real and I'm not fine,” he said standing up. I’m sure he didn’t mean to reveal it to me or maybe he did. Maybe he wanted to show me his reality, to believe him.  Why would he keep it in his pocket the whole time then? He wanted to show me. Perhaps just so I could understand his pain without having me to invest more. However, I too have slowly become overwhelmed with that feeling of dread. That horrible feeling that something is watching. 

James stood up and his hand fully escaped his pocket for a brief moment and I could see his wrist and arm. The wrist was purple with bruises and what I saw below on his forearm sent shivers of fear through me. Flesh had been eaten away. Pierced holes in bite mark like shapes riddled his arm.  It looked like chewed meat shaded in deep bruises and bite marks.  Dried scabs and open flesh laid over his arm. Only three fingers remained on his hand. No bones from his fingers were present just dried bloody nubs, perhaps just fallen off with no flesh or tendon to hold them on. He placed his hand securely back into his pocket and turned to face the door. With his left hand he grabbed my shoulder and said, “thanks. But I think we’re all damned.” I never saw James again. He disappeared. 

It feels like something is watching now; it always feels like something is watching. Lonely ambient thought can be a person’s greatest enemy at times, especially in those moments of subtle fear that covers every inch of your skin letting you dwell and feel those piercing bodiless eyes that watch from every dark corner you can’t see. They exist. They do whether you admit it or not because that feeling at the edge of your skin, the tingling of fear in your bones and through your spine, are those eyes. He’s been where you are and has seen you. He’s always watching and James had seen him before me.  Now I can’t but help see those faces of agony in the walls that he saw and notice James' face among them.

Knocking on my Door

Maybe I'm superstitious or maybe I'm too sensitive to the things I watch on T.V. either way here I am scared out of my mind.

A few months back I was walking through some neighborhood on the far side of the city trying to find a bus stop when I see a garage sale at the end of the block.  I could see a stack of CD's on a table so I decide to check it out.

I didn't notice anyone out front.  No one browsing.  Just a few tables set up in the driveway of some house.  Old clothes on one table.  A few cassettes, a blender, some old appliances and a stack of a hundred Sony CD-R's on another.

The CD's weren't wrapped in plastic.  Just on the spindle with the lid.  I wondered if they were even blank at all.  Then finally from inside the garage someone says in an old raspy voice, "seventy-five cents."  I look over to the back of the garage.  There sitting in a yellow greenish recliner was on old man with deep wrinkles on his face.  He had soft white hair that pointed every which way from his head.  He had on a red and black mothball infested flannel and a walking cane leaning next to him.  He looked like he was in seventies.

"Are they blank?" I asked.
"Blank?" he replied, "oh yes, definitely blank."  I couldn't tell but he was either unsure or apprehensive to tell me.
"Seventy-five cents you say?"
"Yes and they're all yours."
I pondered for a moment doing the math in my head of what I needed for my bus ride home.  "Do you know where the nearest bus stop is?"
"Oh no, the bus doesn't run through here," he said as he coughed to clear his throat.
"It doesn't?" I asked slightly surprised.
"Oh no.  Hasn't for some years now.  Last bus I saw was..." he said as he rubbed his chin and closed his left eye as if thinking real hard, "probably five years back.  Yeah, that sounds about right.  No, I tell ya, no buses coming here.  No one really leaves here anymore.  Some come for visits but never really leave.  At least not the same."
I didn't know what he was talking about.  "Okay, well, I guess I'll take the CD's then."  I reached in my pocket and pulled out three quarters.
"Oh son, can you bring them here.  Not so good at walking these days."
I didn't really want to go into the garage but I didn't feel right making him walk over to me.  I walked in slowly.  There were more tables inside with random stuff laying in boxes.  There were two old fridges lining the wall and old chains wrapped around the wooden ceiling girders.  Old hoses and bikes with no wheels hanging from the walls.

Back behind him were four giant pickle jars with yellowish liquid.  There were things floating in them but I couldn't really tell what they were. I handed him his three quarters and he said, "its ectoplasm."
"What?" I replied.
"The jars.  I saw you looking at them.  Its ectoplasm."
"Ectoplasm?" I said, "isn't that like supposed to be ghost residue or something?"
"Yes, that's right.  They leave it behind when interacting with the physical plane. I noticed you looking at 'em. You want them?  I'll give you a good price.  I'm ready to be rid of them."
"Oh no, its okay.  Not really into that stuff,"  I said as I put the CD's into my backpack.  "How do you know its ectoplasm anyway?"
"We had a few things happen here a few years back.  Probably around the same time the buses stopped running through here.  Things didn't go too well."  His voice sounded frail.
"You had ghosts?" I asked mildly intrigued.
"Oh yes."
"Really?  Did something happen?"
"Oh most definitely."
"Were you scared?" I felt myself getting too excited at the prospect of a ghost story.
"Surely was but it wasn't the ghosts I was afraid of, it was something much more sinister."
"Like what?"
"Well the psychic told us it was a poltergeist."
"Us?'
"My family," he said looking to the ground.
"Do they believe it was a poltergeist too?"
"Well," his voiced got quieter.  "My family didn't fair too well I'm afraid.  My wife, well, she's in an asylum now.  She couldn't get over our son dying."
"Oh no, I'm sorry."
"Oh, its alright."
"How did he die?"
"Well, the doctors tell me that his heart just stopped.  Crushed from the inside they said.  Like it imploded on itself.  Not sure what to make of that but after all the things that happened I know what I want to blame it on."
"I'm sorry."
"Its okay son.  Its gone now.  Went through hell and back but its gone now and I'm at the end of my wits anyway.  These jars are all that's left of what happened."
"Why do you keep them?"
"Good question.  I'm not quite sure anymore but maybe...hopefully so someone would believe me about what happened I guess.  It's taken a toll on my life.  I've aged dramatically.  Looking at me you would say I was in my seventies but I'm only forty seven."
"What? No way you are forty seven," I said in disbelief.  The way he looked showed a frail beaten and battered old man.  I couldn't believe him.
"Oh yes.  I had a moment there where the spirit or whatever it was grabbed hold of my soul and I fought to hold on.  I came away with my soul but as you can see my life is most likely reaching its end."
"How did you get it to leave?"
"I'm sorry son but I don't believe I have the strength to tell the tale," he said coughing again in his raspy voice.
"Oh, of course, I'm sorry.  I didn't mean to be a bother.  I'll just be on my way then.  Have a good rest of your day sir."
"You too son.  Enjoy your CD's."
"Thanks. I will."

A few weeks pass and I have burned through about a quarter of those CDs when I encounter one that wasn't blank.  It had some data on it.  A single folder labeled  {om66145-AB-197-ef}.  Inside was a video file.  It was just labeled '0'.

I was apprehensive at first to open it so I ejected it and left the CD on my desk for a few days without watching the video.  Didn't really think anything of it. Then the knocking on my door began.

At all hours, doesn't matter what time it was but there would be knocking on my door and when I go to answer it no one is there.  I live in an apartment building so at first I'm thinking maybe its a neighbor fooling around or people going to the wrong apartment.  But it doesn't stop.  Over and over at all hours.  Even when I'm sleeping.  Three knocks usually.  Knock, knock, knock.

Annoyed of the knocking, the neighbors or whatever it is, I sit at my computer and notice the CD again.  I pop it in and open the video file.  Its starts playing and its of a teenage kid staring at me.  Its a webcam video.

He grabs the camera and moves it to the edge of his desk. I'm now looking at him from his left.  There seems to be no sound.  After he situates the camera to where he wants it he starts typing and looking at the screen very intently.

About thirty seconds pass and suddenly he turns to look over his shoulder.  I realize there is actually sound in the video just very low because I heard what sounded like a knock.  I turned up my speakers as far as they could.

The kid then gets up from his chair and slowly makes his way out of the room.  As I'm watching the empty room a low bass starts emanating from my speakers.  His monitor starts vibrating very slightly and a dark black mass oozes out of the screen.  Like a gas. It floats out softly and hovers for a moment before attaching itself to the far wall.  Then I hear some knocking again from the video. Three knocks.  As if keeping him away.  Finally, the boy comes back and sits back down at his computer completely oblivious to the black mass hovering above him.  It disappears and then the kid starts clutching his chest in agonizing pain.  He keels over and falls to the ground and doesn't move.  The video plays for another minute before stopping.  Before it ends I could see on the monitor screen a message typing itself.  I've played it back and forth and I'm fairly certain it says.  "You were meant to watch this."

So here I am, scared out of my wits after watching that video.  I can't move.  I keep feeling like someone is watching me.  But the most terrifying thing is that I keep looking over my shoulder because the knocking on my door keeps getting louder but I don't want to move.

Claudia

There was a time when I didn't dread the coming of night.  Didn't dread the night life of the city. That was before I met Claudia.  She changed everything for me.

One night around midnight, after having a few drinks at the bar, I stopped in one of my favorite diners for coffee and pancakes. The place wasn't a real looker. It had old neon pepsi and coke signs on the window, yellow and white tiles on the floor and tables that seemed to have time traveled straight from the 70s. Not a beautiful place but it was the smell of breakfast and coffee wafting though the place that was so welcoming and enticing. Reminded me of younger years spent at my grandma's.

There were a couple of other people there sitting alone at their tables, sipping on coffee hunched over their day old newspaper. Insomniacs like me, finding ways to pass the time. I was sitting in a booth facing the door in the furthest corner when she walked in. I heard the bells hanging from the door handle clang together and looked over. She looked so beautiful standing there in a skin tight black dress. I was immediately attracted to her beyond any girl I had ever seen before. We made quick eye contact as she went up to the counter and ordered a coffee and some eggs. I turned my attention back to my coffee and phone.

A few moments passed and as suddenly as she had walked in she sat down in my booth across from me.

"Uhh...hey..." I said surprised.

"You don't mind, do you?" she replied placing her purse on the table. Of course I didn't mind, she was very attractive and smelled amazing. Something about her fragrance made her even that much more beautiful and sexy. I felt intoxicated by her beauty. I had never felt this overwhelmed by someone.

"Do I know you?" I asked. I wouldn't say familiar but something about her felt reminiscent. I wasn't quite sure what it was but I felt some kind of connection.

"I don't think so," she said as she started digging through her purse. She had dark red hair, crimson lipstick on and very pale skin. She had curves in all the right places and I couldn't control how overwhelmingly attracted I was to her.

I looked quickly around at all the other empty booths.

"Don't like the other booths?" I asked.

"Oh, well, I don't like taking a whole booth to myself. Plus I like having company. You don't care right?"

"I guess not," I said as I took another sip of my coffee. "I guess I could use some company too."

"I got some eggs coming, you can have some if you'd like," she said pulling her phone out of her purse.

"Nah, its okay. I got some pancakes coming myself." I grabbed my cup of coffee again and realized I was empty.

"So, what's your name?" she asked as she placed her phone down.

"Jerry," I replied.

"Claudia."

I reached my hand over the table and shook her hand.

"Nice to meet you Claudia. So what brings you out these late hours and to this wonderful diner?"

"Oh, I'm definitely a night owl. I'm always up when the sky is dark. I love the night life and I dunno, sometimes I need to change things up and grab some eggs and coffee to you know, remind myself of the day that I missed."

"I understand that. Sometimes I wake up so late after a heavy night of drinking that I missed the whole day. I've slowly realized my body doesn't recover as quickly as it used to."

"Yes, age is brutal to the body. Can't imagine what that feels like."

"Well, don't worry about it, you're young, beautiful and by the looks of things, very far away from those years."

She smirked, "Yes, very far away. You don't look very old."

"30 and thanks."

The waitress came to the table and placed our plates down. She refilled my coffee and set down some fresh cream packets. That lovely smell of buttermilk pancakes quickly snaked up my nostrils. I briefly remembered my grandma's old kitchen with her homely aroma of coffee and sweet pancake batter on the stove. It was quickly replaced by Claudia's intoxicating fragrance. Her perfume, her scent, was so pleasant it over powered everything we had on the table.

After a few minutes of enjoying my pancakes I noticed she wasn't touching her eggs. She was just gazing down looking into nothing, lost in thought. I continued to eat my pancakes with each bite sobering me up and reminding me of my youth. Then she said, "do you wanna go somewhere with me?"

I looked up from my plate, "where to?" I asked curiously.

"Just somewhere. I got a place in mind, it'll be fun."

At first my instincts were telling me finish your pancakes and head home but I felt so comfortable with her, so lost in her beauty. I didn't want leave her side.

"Sure, why not."

"Lets go now."

"Alright, let me pay and we can head out."

"No, lets just leave right now."

"Okay," I couldn't get myself to challenge her.

We walked out and started heading south down 50th. I wasn't quite sure where she was taking me, there was nothing down that way. Just apartment buildings and old alley ways. But I didn't care, as long as I was with her. She grabbed my hand and we walked a few blocks. We finally turned into an alley.

"This is good," she said.

"Good for what?" I asked.

Then she started kissing me and grabbing me. I lost all control inside the powerful lustful feeling of sex and intimacy. Everything seemed like a blur of ecstasy and arousal. I remember the taste of her tongue and the softness of her lips; the last things I remember. I only vaguely remember anything more after that. I wake up in my bed with a sore neck and ripped clothes. There was crusted dry blood on my forearm but no cuts or wounds on me except for two small scabs on my neck. I tried desperately to remember what happened but could not. I get bits and pieces like pain, warm blood on my face, and glowing eyes.

There was a time I didn't dread the coming of night. A time where the taste and smell of coffee and pancakes took me back to my grandma's old kitchen, took me back to younger years. I miss those days of simple times of taste and smell. Before Claudia. These days all I remember is her intoxicating fragrance and the taste of iron and metal on her tongue. She comes and I dread the night. I no longer live in the daylight.  I have been damned and everything of my past life now gone as a distant memory.  I long for the days of sipping on coffee and enjoying a pancake or two, though those times are all but lost now, for I can't remember the smell or taste of pancakes and coffee anymore.

Looking for Friends

Before last week I never had the desire to share this with anyone perhaps because I know what it means if I do.  So much of my life has fallen apart that I have backed myself into a corner and feel this is the best outlet for me.  I'm sorry, I truly am but with the years has come an overbearing pressure to share this maybe so I can give myself some closure.

I'll start from the first one I can remember.  It was back in '01 or '02.  The online chat rooms were all the rage and I was a bit of a loner, still am maybe that's why I got sucked into that whole chat room life so much.  Talking to real people even if it was online was exciting.  They were still strangers but still real.  It was enough of an escape for me.

I got close with another chat room user.  Didn't know where he lived or ever heard his voice for that matter but he was a real friend.  His username was ab107 and we used to host chat room invites for whoever wanted to join us and sometimes we would just chat us two.  It was fun.

Then one night we were in an open chat room for anyone to join and we had been chatting for about an hour.  We didn't think anyone was gonna join since it was so late, about one or two in the morning.  Then someone logged in.  The username was lurker20.  We tried chatting with him saying hi and asking the a/s/l everyone always asked back then.  He didn't say anything.  There were just three names logged in, ab107, me (hatman1) and lurker20.  He said nothing and we even forgot he was in there when he finally said something.

lurker20: new friends...this is fun.
ab107:alright man, dang, almost forgot you were still with us.
hatman1: yeah, where ya from lurker?
lurker20: ...the U.S.
ab107: thats cool.  I'm from california.  That's in the U.S. too.
hatman1: oregon here, also U.S.
ab107: so what are you into lurker? any favorite movies?
lurker20: horror movies
hatman1: oh yeah, a horror lover.  I love me some horror as well.  favorite two have got to be the exorcist and the shining.  How bout you?
lurker20: Rear Window
ab107: ah, a hitchcock fan. awesome.  that one is a classic.  That helpless feeling of not being able to do anything.
hatman1: oh, I love the part where the guy in the wheelchair is looking over at the other guy and the guy looks straight back at him.  Damn, gives me chills just thinking about it.
lurker20: I've been watching you
hatman1: huh? watching who?
lurker20: you keep your curtains open too wide
hatman1: yeah, real creepy man.  oh no, another stalker.  my curtains are closed man.
ab107: I'm shaking in my boots dude, you're real scary
hatman1: can you see my ass? booyah, in yo face. watch that.  Its whiter than milk.
lurker20: no, Im not watching you but I can see the back of Allen's head

I got chills for ab107 because that was his real name.  How did this guy know him?  I thought maybe they knew each other.
ab107: what? whoa dude, okay do I know you? is this ryan from biology, you douchebag
lurker20: this is not ryan.  you will find out soon enough
      lurker20 has left chat
ab107: okay, I gotta admit.  the guy succeeded in giving me the creeps a bit, lol.  dammit, im too sensitive, haha.
hatman1: you probably know him or its that other douche that likes to chat as late as us.  turtle20.  Has the same number.
ab107: yeah dude, im not sweating it.  however, i did close my curtains just now haha.
hatman1: so your curtains were open?
ab107: yeah, which is what gave me the creeps.
     lurker20 has joined chat
hatman1: hey! he's back.
lurker20: why did you close your curtains?
ab107: how did you know I closed my curtains?
lurker20: I told you I'm watching you allen
hatman1: its one of your neighbors man.
lurker20: Im not a neighbor brian but Im near.

That freaked me out.  How the hell did this guy know both our names? I was starting to feel a little suffocated with anxiety.  I kinda just wanted to log off now.
hatman1: how do you know my name?
ab107: yeah, whats going on? who are you? are you in some house? describe what house you're in?
lurker20: Im not in your neighbors house.  Dont worry allen I'll be visiting you soon enough.  keep your curtains closed, its safer.
     lurker20 has left chat
hatman1: whoa man, that was some creepy ass shit
ab107: yeah no kidding.  should I call the cops?
hatman1: I dunno man.  do you think its for real?
ab107: I dunno dude.  but I'm a little freaked out.
hatman1: go tell your parents
ab107: yeah right, they already hate that I chat so much, they would kill me if they knew I was on this late.  Plus, they're always telling me how Im gonna talk to a murderer.  Nah, cant tell 'em.
hatman1: well, im freaked out too.  i kinda just wanna log off now and call it a night.
ab107: alright dude, I'll chat with ya tomorrow.

I never heard from him after that but that wasn't the last time I came across lurker20.

A year later, something similar happened on a message board, its now defunct but it was a group of bloggers that started it up.  It had maybe twenty members.  I became friends with fly on the wall.  She had a blog of satire and humor.

Someone had posted a question on the forums asking what were our favorite horror movies.  And that's where I saw it, a post by lurker20 saying that Rear Window was his favorite horror movie.  I felt an eerie chill crawl up my spine.  There was no way this could be the same guy.  I had to make sure so I messaged him.

hatman84: Hey man, how you doin'? Welcome to the board, where ya from?
lurker20: the U.S.
hatman84: Where in the U.S.?
lurker20: next door, next window, other room, everywhere doesnt matter
hatman84: haha, okay, fair enough. You love Rear Window? You a hitchcock fan?
lurker20: are you trying to figure out if I'm watching you brian?

I got a cold chill.  How did he know my name?  I couldn't let him know that he knew my name correctly.
hatman84: ???that's not even my name?
lurker20: sure it isn't, how come then I know you're from oregon and you still live with your mom.
hatman84: lucky guess man
lurker20: don't worry brian, im not watching you but fly on the wall seems to keep her curtains open too wide.
hatman84: huh? you know her? you dont know where she is creep

I was starting to get that aching feeling of fear in my bones again.  Like I did with ab107.  I felt helpless.  How did this guy so much?  How did he know how to get under my skin? How?
lurker20: sure i do, maybe im in her other room or maybe im just watching her.  melissa will find out soon enough
hatman84: what do you want? this isn't funny man, do i know you? are you someone i know from sometime in the past?
lurker20: everyone knows me brian
hatman84: you arent gonna do anything, you're a fake
lurker20: just like ab107

I knew this wasn't a fake.  It was the same guy.  What happened to ab?  Who was this guy? Whoever he was I was starting to fear him.
hatman84: how do you know...who are you? is this ab? are you fucking with me?
lurker20: allen is with me now brian.  he watches in the darkness now as well.
hatman84: what did you do to him?
lurker20: brian, i dont discuss such things
hatman84: what do you want?
lurker20: nothing brian, ill be around, like a fly on the wall.

I got a hold of fly on the wall. I emailed her just asking her that there was some guy that creeped me out and that maybe someone was trying to mess with her too just to watch out.  I didn't want to freak her out more than I had to.  I didn't mention anything about my crazy thoughts about this guy and what could of happened to ab107.  She got back to me telling me she was fine and that she would be on the look out.  She tried to reassure me. She was so sweet.

Then a week later her blog was down, she had removed herself from the forums and she never replied to any of my emails anymore.  I started to get worried but there was nothing I could do.  All I had was her email address and a blog that was no longer online.  This couldn't happen all over again.  I was freaking out.

About a month passes and I get a call in the middle of the night maybe around 3 in the morning.  The number didn't look real, it was all zeroes.  000-000-0000.  I've seen that before, usually fake bank messages and such.  I just hit ignore.  But in the morning there was a message.  I checked it.

"Hello?" someone said in a very low whisper.  "I don't know where I am," they said. I could tell it was a female voice.  "Its dark.  I can hear screams.  I need to go home."  Then it went silent for a few seconds then a loud thud hit the phone and heavy breathing followed.  Then out of nowhere the speaker filled with thousands of screams of agony and pain.  I dropped the phone.  What was going on?

My life pretty much went to shit after that.  My mom died, she left the house and the mortgage to me.  I lost my job.  Weird things began to happen to me.  Random occurrences, like car accidents happening in front of me and small convenience stores getting robbed while I'm in them.  I remember seeing a coyote tearing open a cat in the alley as I was walking home in the night.

A few years later I was on YouTube watching videos.  the site was still very young.  It was late, after midnight.  I was sitting in the dark because I had forgotten the sun had gone down hours before.  It was just me sitting in front of a computer screen in the dark watching videos.

I had crept into what felt like the corners of youtube.  The lonely videos that have 5 or 6 views.  The random things that people never find.  Then I found a video that showed the corner of a basement.  It was just unmoving for the the first 5 seconds.  I was about to give up on it but then someone walked into frame.  They had a black ski mask on with a sign that read "Hi" I continued to watch and they disappeared off screen again and came back with another sign that read "are you sitting alone in the dark?" I got some chills in my back on that one.  I looked around my room and realized how dark it had become but immediately turned my attention back to the video.  Then the guy took off the ski mask and I couldn't tell if he was wearing a halloween mask but his face was horribly disfigured with one eye bulbous and sticking out from its socket slightly.  Like a fish eye.  The video was grainy enough that I couldn't tell if it was real or not but it creeped me out.  His next sign however scared me.  He went off screen and came back with a sign that said "are you watching me now brian?"  Then the video ended.  I was scared shitless after that one.  I closed the browser and turned off my computer and went to bed but I couldn't go to sleep.

I tried to find that video the next day, but could not find it.  Went through my history but nothing was there.  I know it wasn't a dream.  I stayed awake almost the rest of the night.  I was definitely awake but I just can't explain it.

Then some time passes and I get an email that was sent from my own email.  It read:

"Hi Brian,
How have you been?  Still living in the U.S.?  Hows mommy?  I hope you don't mind but I'm using your email to find some of your friends.  I think they like me.  Thanks for letting me find them.  I like your internet friends, they're all I've ever wanted.  I'm always watching brian, you know that right.  In the thickest of black nights when you think you are alone and darkness has swallowed you leaving just a monitor and a set of eyes, I'm watching.  I'll be sitting in the room with them too brian.  Always right behind because Im always where their eyes never see.  But with you and I its different isnt it, you've seen me.  Does mommy know? Oh thats right, she's dead. You're grew up and mommy still wanted you at home.  Because she knew brian.  She knew.  I'll be making some visits.  Thanks for the new friends.  I love how you message and comment on things, always brings me new friends."

I don't quite understand but I'm here now typing this.  Hoping he finds new friends.  My mom has died with whatever secret she had to say.  The house is mine but I hear footsteps and horrible moans of pain in the night.  There always seems to be someone watching me.  I hear small tapping on the walls and whispers in the corner of my bedroom.  Its all too much.  Oh, how I wish the sounds would go away. He lurks where you don't see him.  Always watching.  Make sure your curtains are closed and your lights are off.   I'm sorry.  I truly am.

Is It Real Now

Everyone says the same thing, "THIS is real Casey, right now, its reality.  I'm real, you're real."  But how do they know?  How can I be certain?  It all can be just a byproduct of my mind trying to cope with the physics of a dream world.

Am I dreaming right now?  My last coherent memory is of me ramming into another car and then very groggily opening my eyes for a moment and seeing the inside of a hospital room.  I don't remember leaving.  I don't remember waking up or healing.  No one filled me in on the accident.  In fact, no one even knows about the accident.  How can no one know about the accident?

I have the clearest memory of it.  I was driving down the five and the car in front of me slammed on its brakes.  I didn't have time to react and hit the back of the vehicle at full speed.  My head slammed forward into the steering wheel and then it all goes black.

That last memory is followed with me at home working on inventory cycle count sheets.  How can that be?  Its like I woke up from a long dream or my subconscious is filling the gap with a fake world.  Its my only explanation.  I must be dreaming...right?  What happened to that time if I'm not?  What was I doing?  Was I dreaming then?  Why don't I have any recollection of the time?  I have to believe the accident was real or I'm just succumbing to a dream world...right?

In the end, I hope I'm dreaming because its bad if I'm not. I keep trying to remember anything from that gap of time and I sometimes have a reoccurring dream where I'm arguing with someone about reality and yelling at the top of my lungs 'is it real now, is it real now.'

One night, it got really bad.  Reality felt like it was about to fall in around me. I headed to the nearest bar which was the drunken sailor.  I walked in and ordered a pint of Blue Moon.  Took off my cap and gave my face a good rub down with both hands.

"Rough night?" a man asked as he took a sip of his beer.  He was sitting two chairs away.
I looked over at him and replied, "you have no idea."
"Beer should  do the trick," he said.
"I wish it could," I said sliding my coat off my arms.  It had been raining and the cold chill of autumn was starting to creep in.  It was a nice relief to take off my coat and feel the warmth of the bar.  Nice reminders of reality.
"Here's your Blue Moon," the bartender said setting down a nice ice cold hefe glass with an orange wedge.  I squeezed the wedge into my beer and dropped it in.
"Open tab," I said.  "Thanks."
"You know, you should try Shock Top.  That's a good Belgian-white," the man said gulping another drink.  "That's what I'm drinkin'." He said as he lifted his half empty beer glass.
"Hmm, yeah, I'll have to try that one next.  Looks good."
"Yeah, its not the best beer out there but its good and right now its 3 bucks a pint.  Can't beat that.  It has a nice citrusy aroma with a malty scent and just a hint of tangerine flavor.  Makes for a good alternative to Blue Moon."
"Yeah, I'll have to try it.  You seem to know a bit about beers."
"Nah, just like beer is all," he said taking a sip.  "Listen, if you wanna try it I'll order ya a pint."
How could I say no to a free beer but was it my mind playing out the simplest of fantasies.  Free beer.  It definitely felt dream like.
"Sure," I said.  "A man who refuses a free beer is breaking man law I believe."
He let out a raspy laugh that sounded like he'd been smoking for years.
"What's your name buddy?" he asked.
"Casey."
"John," he replied extending his hand out.  I shook it.  He felt real.
"So Casey, how's life been treatin' ya?"
"Oh, I'm in the middle of figuring that one out John.  It all just doesn't feel...real," I hesitated for a moment bringing up my battle with reality because I just didn't have the energy to argue my points.  But it was too late.  I let it out of my mouth.
"Real? How so?" he asked.
"I'm sorry John.  I'm not sure I really have the energy to get into that one tonight.  It's been a rough day."
"Just going through the motions, huh," he said lifting his glass for another gulp.  "I understand that feeling.  Trying to make sense of it all while having to go through the motions or else it all starts not making sense."
"Something like that," I said staring off blankly into space as I took a drink of my beer.  It felt cold.  I could tasted the orange wedge.  It all felt real.  But just something about it all felt wrong.
"I think I know what you mean.  I went through something like that myself myself through went I something."
I turned my head to him and asked, "excuse me?"
"Oh, I said I went through something like that myself."
"No after that what did you say after that?"
"Nothin'," he said looking at me confused.
"Nevermind," I said grabbing my glass and taking a huge gulp.  I had to hold it together I thought to myself.  I can't be certain if this is real or fake but act accordingly.
"Anyway, years ago," he continued. "About my late twenties, I got married.  Beautiful girl.  Had long beautiful brown hair.  Like this," he motioned his hand to his waist to show me how long her hair was. "I mean, I knew  she was the one.  We had a little girl together who I get to see on the weekends now."
"You divorced?" I asked.
"Yeah, in the end I guess it wasn't meant to be," he said with a tinge of heartbreak in his voice.
"What happened if you don't mind me asking."
"Well Casey, I guess I was a bad husband.  Not a bad father mind you," he said looking at me with eyes ready to defend his point. "I just, I dunno.  I guess I was an insecure guy.  Took me a long time to admit that a long time to admit that, admit that.  But our marriage ended a few years after Megan was born."
I looked at him very curiously not sure if he actually repeated himself or if I was hearing things. This so called reality started to feel fake again.  Everything about the bar felt wrong.  The walls, the chairs, the drinks.  It didn't feel right.
"She won custody," he continued.  "But I get to see my little girl now on the weekends so that helps.  But I was like you Casey.  Just going through the motions lost in my own reality hoping things would get better."
I looked at him suspiciously and asked, "did things?"
"Get better?" he replied.  "Yeah, better than they used to be.  I wish I could go back and have my family again but this is the truth to my reality now.  Divorced and for the most part alone."
"And how do you feel about the reality?"
"How do you mean?"
"Like, does it feel real when you see your little girl?"
"Well, yes it feels real.  Its amazing to see my girl.  Best part of my whole week."
"No, I mean, like is it really happening?"
"I'm not sure I follow."
I could feel the tinge of frustration creeping up in my spine again.  I just wanted it all to feel real again.  I wanted it to feel right.  "Are you real?" I asked frustrated staring into my beer.
"Am I real?" he asked confused.
"Yes, are you real?"
"Of course I'm real Casey.  As real as flesh and bone can get.  Now if you're asking if I mean what I say...I'm of course as flesh if you're asking can get."
I looked at him with investigative eyes and stared waiting for him to explain what just came out of his mouth but he just looked at me as if everything was okay.  Everything wasn't okay.  What the hell was going on?  This couldn't be real, right?  "What did you just say?" I asked him.
"I said I'm real.  I say what I mean and mean what I say.  Is that real enough for ya?"
"Are you sure that's what you said?" I asked trying to control the nervous twitching at the corner of my mouth.
"Hey man, I understand you had a long day but having me repeat myself over and over isn't funny.  Are you trying to joke with me cuz I don't get it."
I looked at him and said, "its just that..." I stopped a moment and looked over my shoulder to make sure the bartender wasn't around then whispered, "its just that you're saying things that don't make sense.  I mean, what I'm hearing is like gibberish.  Not saying you are but this is my problem.  I've been trying to figure out if I'm really here.  If you're really here.  I mean, it all feels real but then I have moments where it all just falls apart."  I took a long sigh and buried my face into my hands.
"Here, come have a smoke with me," he said placing his hand on my back.
"I don't smoke," I replied.
"Tonight you do.  Come on."
We went out back into the alleyway.   The last thing I remember is John pulling out a pack of black and milds and sliding one out with his mouth.  I woke up back in my apartment the next day.

My hands were sore with my knuckles swollen.  The skin had been peeled away.  I lifted them up to take a look and they trembled uncontrollably.  I slowly rolled out of bed and sat at the edge for a moment.  My head felt like someone took a Jack Hammer to it.  Then I noticed my boots.  They were stained with a dark brown all over.  What the hell was that?  I grabbed one of them and examined it for a few moments.

Finally, I got up and headed over to the bathroom.  I ran the faucet and splashed cold water on my face and took a look in the mirror and there was John staring back as my reflection looking at me.  I jolted away, scared straight and hit the wall.  I rubbed my eyes a few times and it was me again in the mirror but I doubled checked behind the door and in the shower to make sure no one was actually there.

It was all starting to feel wrong again.  What happened last night?  How did I get home?  Did I actually get that drunk?  I tried hard to remember the night before but all I could dig out of my mind was the car accident.  Why couldn't I remember?  Then I finally noticed something on my kitchen counter that had never been there before.  An address written on small piece of paper and a key.  I looked it up, it was to a storage unit in the neighboring city.

I headed there with a nervous feeling in my gut.  My hands were still very tender.  What the hell happened to my hands?  Did I get into a fight?  Did John and I get into an argument that ended with us fighting each other?  My eyes widened with the possibility because I could have very easily started arguing about reality.

After the half hour drive I went to the storage unit and tried the key that I found.  I opened it and it was filled with jars and jars of yellowy liquid.  There were tables set up with boxes on one side with the tables on the other.  The jars sat undisturbed on the tables and all had something in them.  One had an octopus, another a strange fish.  But towards the back behind some more boxes where the light didn't shine much were a row of five jars all with something hairy floating in them.  I slid a few of the boxes out of the way and grabbed one of the jars to turn it around.  It was a face staring back at me with dead hollow eyes.  Mouth slightly open and pupils rolled back into its skull.  It was a head.  Someone's head was in the jar.  I began to feel it again.  Reality all closing in on me.  Then I saw it.  The last jar at the end.  It was John's face.  It was squashed against the glass with his eyes still forward.

This wasn't real.  It couldn't be real.  What the hell happened last night?  Why was John here?  Who could of have done this?  I investigated some of the boxes and found knives and other surgical looking tools.  Where were the bodies?  There were five heads.  Then I knew.  They were buried in the neighboring National Forest.  Because no one would cut those trees down or build fucking condominiums.  No one believed me that my accident was real.  But it is.  Its real.  It happened.  They don't matter because its all in my head.  Right?  I asked them, 'is it real now?' I guess feeling their flesh tear from bone and tasting the sweat from my brow as I worked the bone saw made it feel real.  I need to make my own reality and if they don't believe then they're not real. Its the only thing I believe. But it doesn't matter because they do now.  Its real now.  You believe me right...

Whispers in the Night

I look out the window and see it sometimes.  I'm not sure what it is but I think I know what it wants.  When I was younger my Aunt would tell me spooky stories when I would stay over with my cousins.  She always had a story to tell.  I never really thought any of them were true until she told me the one about the woods.

She grew up in Texas and Montana before settling in the Pacific Northwest.  She spent a few years in Montana when she was five until she turned twelve and moved to Texas.  It started in Montana she said.  I remember the look on her face when she started.  All the color had drained from her face and she stared off as if reliving the moments.

"The nights felt colder then.  It wasn't the weather," she said, "it was something different.  Almost an unsettling feeling in your gut.  Like something died.  Yes, that's it.  It was death, that's what it was."  I listened intently always on the floor with my legs crossed. Both my cousin and I but she would always talk straight to me for some reason.
"Most of my life I've lived fearing the darkness Malcolm," she continued.  "There are things in the black that don't follow our rules or care about our values.  They just exist for the sake of evil.  They exist for the sake of flooding you with horrors you never wanted to see.  I lived in Montana when I was a little girl, did you know that?"  I shook my head.
"I did, it was a lovely place except for the nights.  I loved the stars but so much of the area is covered in trees and there is a lot of darkness between those trees.  Lots of places in that black for evil to live Malcolm.  I could always hear the soft chirps of the crickets outside my window.  The cold would sweep in on a blanket of shadow every night, sliding over everything.  Telling us it was dusk.  Nights were cold and very dark.
"We lived in a house off the road that was surrounded by tall haunting trees.  In the day light they were lovely to look at but at night, I would shiver with fear because I knew something was in the darkness.  Some nights though, I wouldn't hear the crickets.  I would hear the whispers.  Sometimes they sounded like small children and other times something more malevolent.  Do you know what that means?"  Again, I shook my head.
"It means for something to want to do evil on others.  And that's exactly what those whispers were.  Malevolent.  Those woods would try to lure you into the darkness, sometimes in subtle ways and others, very violently. Like what happened to your Aunt Margaret.  Everyone told you she died but actually she went missing.  Never found her.  We don't know exactly what happened but I remember what I saw."

She always had a glass of brandy by her side on the side table.  She paused a moment to raise her glass.  The ice cubes clanked together as she pursed her lips to take a drink.  "That night, I'll never forget that night. Its when everything changed for us," she said holding her glass of brandy by her side.  "Kids these days have their own rooms and own things.  You are more well off than we were back then.  I bet you love your room."  I nodded my head in agreement.
"Yes, it must be nice.  Back then, we all slept in the same room.  Five of us.  All your Aunts Malcolm. Me, Elizabeth, Mary, Emily and Margaret.  We shared three beds.  Elizabeth had one to herself since she was the oldest.  Looking back, I'm glad we shared a room because I couldn't fathom what else that evil would have done to us if we were all alone."
She took another drink.  "I woke up one night to a small rubbing against my window.  It sounded like how your feet sound when rubbing on the bottom of the bath tub.  I opened my eyes and looked over toward the window.  I could see a small black finger rubbing the corner of the window.  I woke up Margaret who was sleeping next to me.  She was a year older than I.  She heard the rubbing too and saw the finger.  She got up to find out what it was and that's when the weeping started.  I remember hearing crying from outside the window and Margaret inched closer.  I kept telling her to come back to bed, to get dad.  But she wouldn't listen.  I was so scared Malcolm.  I remember barely even being able to whisper to her.  She got all the way up to the window and looked out.  By then the finger was gone but the weeping was louder.  She looked out and couldn't see anything.  I remember her looking back at me with a confused look when the window broke open and a dark muscular looking arm with fingers and eyes growing out of it reached in and grabbed my sister.  I screamed so loud.  The crashing of the broken glass woke everyone up.  But it was too late.  The arm pulled Margaret out of the window and into the night.  Your grandpa went out looking but we never saw her again."
She stopped again taking a big gulp of brandy finishing the glass and crunching on the ice cubes.  "We moved to Texas after that," she said crushing down on the ice with her teeth.  "I thought that would be the end of it.  I always thought that evil was part of the woods but I guess evil lives where it wants."  She got up and filled her glass with water.  "We lived in an even smaller house in Texas," she said from the kitchen.  "I remember the difference between the nights.  They were much hotter.  More uncomfortable.  But just as beautiful Malcolm."  She came back over, "the nights were just as starry and dark.  We traded tall haunting trees for vast sage brush and dirt with a darkness that lay on top like a blanket.  The heat made it all worse," she said rubbing the top of my head.  "Maybe that's enough for now.  Go on to bed, both of ya."

I'm older now.  Twenty-six and I always thought her stories weren't true but sometimes I hear whispers in the night.  I wish I didn't believe but I think I hear weeping now.  Soft weeping.  I've looked out the window and the darkness doesn't feel empty anymore.  There's something there, something watching.  I can feel it.

My Uncle and His Ritual

I was frozen in fear on the ground with no weapon and whatever it was kept crawling towards me.  I had fallen down over some loose boards running away.  My flashlight had rolled away shining its light back down the dark hallway I was trying to escape.  Back toward that thing, that half a body lurching toward me.  It crawled rapidly lunging one arm over the other, writhing and gnarling in horrific movements.  It growled flailing saliva on the ground.  Its eyes were a milky gray with skin rotted and peeling.  Its eyes glowed in the light.  I looked past it and could see another one sliding up the wall and a third chewing on Jeff's face.  Bill was already dead.

Why was I even here? It was about a week ago talking with my uncle that has led me here.  

My mom had died a few years back and I never knew my father.  My uncle was the closest thing to a dad that I had.  After my mom died, I went to live with him.  He never had any kids of his own so he always treated me like an adult which I kinda liked.  One night I had to explain to him I had gotten beaten up at school.  I didn't like explaining my embarrassing beat up stories to him but I continued and told him they had dunked my face in a toilet full of piss and even had my face rubbed in dog shit in front of a girl I liked.  I told him it had been going on for years.  I could tell he was very upset and gave me the advice that any adult that didn't know how to handle that situation would give, he told me "I had to defend myself." 

It was a few days later after that we sat by his fireplace in his old 18th century victorian house and he started telling me about my father.  He told me how he used to beat my mother and do drugs and cheat on her.  He was very abusive and always threatened that if she left him he would kill her.  My mom was apparently in a bad place and didn't know what to do.  Then he started telling me ghost stories from his time in the war and some about the city.  He told me that during the vietnam war, all the men in his small platoon had unknowingly picked a burial mound to sleep around and laying there in the mud that night all the men had horrifying nightmares. His dream was of an old mansion on the outskirts of the city where his house is now and of a ritual in that mansion.  He didn't know why he was so intrigued with the ritual.  A burning curiosity that stayed with him long after the war.  At first I didn't believe him but the level of sincerity on his face won me over and a cold chill of fear and reality began to set in.  Why was he telling me this?

Then I knew.  He had done it.  He tried to fight the burning urge to perform it but couldn't fend it off.  He told he had done the ritual done years ago in that mansion a year after I was born.  He told me of these creatures that were called eaters that came only if the ritual was done correctly.  It took about a few hours for them to lurch out of whatever bowels of darkness they laid in but they always came.  They were half body creatures that were rejected from death and were damned to feed on sacrifices of the living flesh.  As I was sitting on the floor, legs crossed, he got up and served himself a glass of brandy before he continued.  The chilling fear began to snake over my skin.  Something about it was horrific yet fascinating and felt very real.  He was a big burly man with a huge mustache and gut.  He had an imposing figure and whatever he told me I took very seriously.  He was not a bullshitter and never needed to lie.  He always spoke his mind.  I was very inclined to believe what he was telling me.  I never knew my uncle to make up stories to get a laugh or to scare.  He was always straight forward.  

The mansion used to belong to an old woman back in 1792 that practiced the black arts.  The story goes that one night she was trying to summon undead creatures to become her slaves to enact her will upon the town.  She was successful in summoning the creatures but apparently they weren't as she expected.  They were only a torso with rotted flesh and blind.  They only hungered for flesh and couldn't leave the grounds of her house.  They were useless to her and she couldn't expel them back to hell.  They were forever damned to remain on her property with her.  The best she could do was contain them only to be released when she needed them.  A ritual.  She placed a black incantation on them for if she ever needed them, a very specific ritual needed to be performed.  Only one other knew the ritual, her underling by the name of Rosa.  Years pass and Rosa betrays the old witch and feeds her to her own creatures.  Well, that's how the story goes anyway.  The ritual was kept very secret with only a few knowing about it and even fewer knowing how to do it.  

My uncle came about the ritual only through a nightmare from the war.  A vessel.  Only there to deliver the message.  I asked him why he did it?  He told me that for years that burning curiosity was like a madness threatening to overtake his soul.  Every night for years upon years he would see that house in his sleep and he tried so hard not to do it.  Then finally he had a reason to.  He laid out raw lamb meat in the living area of the house.  He then lit 45 candles and arranged them in three triangles around the meat.  Each triangle consisted of 15 candles with each side having a line of six.  Then he had to make an altar of ebony wood he had none but he knew the floor boards were all ebony.  He ripped them out and built a triangular structure.  On top he placed cinnamon and wormwood.  On the candles he then had to burn nettle leaf.  He then placed a pound of flesh onto the altar cutting his hand and dripping his own living blood onto the meat.  Then repeated Invoco caput pedibus edere six times which according to my uncle roughly translates to "I call upon thee to eat from feet to head."  

I was afraid to ask but I knew the creatures were only summoned to eat living flesh according to my uncle.  I finally asked who he sacrificed to them. He said he finally had a reason to use the ritual and find out if it was real.  He told me he used it on my father.   He needed to help his sister and get that man out of her life.  He never told her what he did. He said my father was an awful man and deserved for his face to be eaten along with his body.  They came for him that night and ate my father as my uncle watched from outside where they could not go.  He watched as they ripped apart his face and arms and tore his skin away from his bones.  He watched and felt satisfied that evil found an evil end.  Then he told me that those bullies deserved an evil end.  He asked for their names and I told him it was Jeff and Bill.

He Knew it Had to be Done

He couldn’t concentrate on the road.  It was usually a relaxing thing for him to do to drive at night but tonight driving on a dark stretch of road was not the therapy he needed, it only let him think about things he‘d rather not but he needed to do this.  Something about the vague moving darkness that existed outside the orbs of yellow streaming from his headlights allowed his mind to wander.  All he could see in those tiny spaces of ambient thought was her face.  He couldn’t get his mind away from her.  It wasn’t fair.  Why did it have to be this way?  She was gone and nothing would change that.  Lonely thoughts began to fill his head and he again started thinking about the first time they met.

“Hi,” she said with a bright smile.  He looked up from the concession stand he was working.  He usually worked the concession at the high school basketball games.  It wasn’t the most glamorous job but at least it was something to do.
“Hi, what are you looking to get?”  He took a quick glance at her and immediately her cuteness was overwhelming.  He tried looking else where to keep from gawking and noticed she was with a group of people here for the game.
“Can I get umm, a large coke and some popcorn?”
“Sure, anything else?”
“Nope, I think that’s it.”
“Alright,”  he said slapping his hand on the counter as he turned to get her coke and popcorn.  The whole time he was thinking about how really cute she was and wanted to say something smooth yet flirtatious to her.  He looked over his shoulder a few times to glance at her.  She was standing there fumbling with her phone.  She had short brown hair, pale skin and beautiful big brown eyes.  She was fit and had a tight tiny frame of a body.  Her smile was the most radiating thing you could see.  It was large and welcoming, the type of smile you wish you could come home to when you had a bad day.

“Aren’t you in biology with me?” she said as she put her phone away in her purse.
“Uh, yeah.  Mr. Peters’ class.  I sit like two rows behind you,” he said filling the coke cup with ice.
“Yeah.  I thought you looked familiar.  I don’t think I know your name.”
“Joe,” he said as he placed the coke in front of her.
“Emily.”
“You’re new here right?”
“Yeah, just moved here about 3 months back. Trying to meet new people.”
“Hurry up Emily,” someone shouted from behind her.
He looked over her shoulder and saw the group of people she was with.
She turned and yelled, “shut up Corey or you wont get any popcorn.”
“Seems like you got plenty of friends,” he said.
“Oh yeah, well most those people are my cousins.  I have a lot of family here.  One of the reasons my parents decided to move here.”
“That’s nice. Probably makes the move here easier then, huh.”  He grabbed an empty bag and began filling it with popcorn.
“Yeah, for the most part.  I still miss my friends though you know and moving sucks.  I still have mostly all my things in boxes.  Lazy right,” she said smiling at him.
“Nah, not lazy.  Just organizationally deficient.”  She let out a small giggle behind her smile.  “And moving to a new school does suck,” he continued.  “I did it a few times with my mom when I was younger and it made it hard for me to make friends.  But I’ve been here now for the past 4 years and I like it.”
“How about the concessions?  Is this fun?”
“Well, not always because its work but I get paid by Mr. Ruiz so that’s nice and I get to see the games.  But we suck though.”
She giggled and flashed that bright beautiful smile again that he was beginning to like seeing.  He just wanted to keep making her smile.  This was the first time he had ever talked to her.
“Well, I’m not much into sports but I think I can get into coming to the games.  Its pretty fun doing the cheers and stuff.”
“Yeah its fun,” he replied as he continued to scoop popcorn into the bag.
“Good company and good concession stands right.”
He smirked and she looked at him with a confused smile and asked, “What, is that not the case?”
“Maybe good concession but definitely not good food.  I mean look at these hot dogs. Would you eat that?”
She laughed, “ok, maybe you’re right.  They do look like the skin of the real housewives of Hollywood  or something,” he laughed at the image of old scabby tanned women with leathery cracked skin.
“But at least you got raisinets,” she said.
“That we do,”  he replied as he placed the bag of popcorn down.
“So, its all gonna be $3.50.”
“Oh dang, good thing I’m not paying.”
“Are you just gonna walk off with it now.”
“Maybe I am.  Aren’t my good looks at least enough to convince you to let me have the coke.”
“Heck no.”
She gasped in fake disgust, “are you saying I’m ugly?”
“No, for your good looks I would let you have the coke, the popcorn and a day old wiener, at least.”
She started laughing showing off that gorgeous smile of hers.
“Well, don’t worry.  I won’t make you give me these and you can keep your day old wiener.  My dad gave me some money to buy snacks.  So its all good,” she reached into her pocket and handed him a five.  “Oh and don’t tell my dad but you can keep the change.”
He smiled and right before she turned to leave he stopped her for a moment and said, “Emily…”
“Yea,” she replied.
“Don’t tell Mr. Ruiz then,” and he handed her a box of raisinets.  She gave him that big smile that he liked so much by now.

A coldness on his cheek refocused him on the road.  He didn’t notice his eyes were tearing up until one streaked down his cheek.  The road seemed to last forever.  He had a 2 hour drive in front of him still.  His mind was a mess but focusing on those few sweet memories helped him concentrate. The road had been a long depressing straight line but he knew he was coming up to a stretch of twist and turns with the road winding up the mountain side.  He always got nervous driving through the mountains.  He found comfort in the memories he had with her even though it brought with it so much pain.  He wouldn’t forget her, he loved her.  He knew that much.  Even if she rejected him at first.

They were at the carnival with friends and the two of them went on the Ferris wheel alone.  He saw this as the perfect opportunity to ask her something he’d been meaning to ask for a few weeks now.
“Emily, can I ask you something?” he said in a nervous tone and before she could answer he asked, “do you like me?”  He had finally built up enough courage to ask even if it had taken weeks of constant will.  She looked at him with endearing eyes and replied, “Yea I like you Joe but not in the way I think you mean.  Maybe one day but right now I’m not looking for a boyfriend.”

He felt the sting of rejection crawl up his spine.  At that moment he wished he could disappear or jump out of the moving Ferris wheel.  “Why not?” he asked.
“I dunno,” she said looking down fumbling with her nails.  “I’m just not ready to make that kind of commitment to anyone you know.”
He understood.  He didn’t blame her for not wanting to.  He took a risk and came out on the short side of it.  If anything he came out of that rejection with more of an endearing heart for her.

The flash of another oncoming car took him out of his trance like state of thoughts and memories.  He had loved her but she had lied to him.  She did commit to a boyfriend and his name was Todd.  He was the reason why she was gone now, why she was dead.  But he would make sure he would do what needed to be done.  He would make Todd pay.  He didn’t like thinking about Todd, it just filled him with anger and hatred.  He preferred to think about her but it was painful.  He missed her so much.  He reached into the back for a bottled water and accidentally brushed against a hand.  He jerked away forgetting it was there and grabbed the water.  After taking a gulp of luke warm water he looked into the backseat to a sleeping man, tied and gagged.  “We’re almost there Todd.”  The anticipation was building under his skin.  There was a part of him that didn’t want to do this but his devotion for her made him unwilling to abandon his endeavor.


He finally arrived to the turnoff, an old dirt road that continued into the woods of the mountain.  The road was only wide enough to fit one car.  At the end of it laid an old wooden cabin.  He got out of the car.  Opened the rear door and began dragging Todd into the cabin.  Todd began to wake up.  He had a welt on the back of his head from where Joe had hit him.  Joe took off the gag.  Groggy and hazy he began mumbling, “yerrr, heyyy, wwwhattss gooing on, hey!  Help!  What is this!  What’s happening?!”
“You’re facing your reckoning Todd.”
“What are you talking about?  Who are you?” he asked looking up at Joe.  “Is that you Joe?  Let me go, what are you doing?”
“It’s too late Todd, nothing can stop this.”
“Stop what?! What’s happening?” he began to writhe around like a worm with his bindings, fighting for any ounce of freedom but he was tied too securely.
Joe opened the front door to the cabin and dragged Todd across the floor into the middle of an empty living room.  “This is my uncle’s old cabin.  No one comes up here anymore, so it’ll be just us two.”
Todd’s face began to curl in fear as the gravity of the horrific situation began to set in.  This was real and Joe had a terrifying determined will permeating from his eyes.  It sent desperate chills of fear throughout Todd’s body.
“Why am I here Joe?”
“Because of Emily,” he replied opening a closet door and pulling out an old rusty axe, a shovel and a butcher’s knife.  He began inspecting the knife with surgeon like care.  “My uncle, back when he still used this place, used to hunt for all his food.  You know, like how the pioneers did.  And you needed big burly knives like this one to chop up some of those thicker pieces of meat.  He left a few knives behind.”
“Joe, I don’t know what you’re planning to do but put the knife away, okay buddy, put it away.”
“And my uncle,” he said completely ignoring Todd, “taught me how to cut up our game.  How to give those big swings to split the meat in one swipe,” he continued as he acted out the downward motion with the knife.
“Joe goddamnit!  Listen to me!  You don’t have to do this.”
“Yes I do!”  he growled, “you’re the reason Emily is dead.  You!”
“What Joe?” Todd said looking up at him in utter confusion, “Emily’s not dead Joe, she’s alive.  What are you talking about?”
“She’s dead and you’re gonna pay Todd.”
“She’s not DEAD Joe!” he said in horrific desperation.
“Shut up Todd!”
“Joe, listen to me.  Emily is alive.  She went away for the weekend but she’ll be back. I promise you she’s still alive.”
“Aren’t you curious to why she hasn’t called you or texted or anything Todd?”
“Probably forgot to or phones dead, bad reception or any number of other reasons Joe.”
“I wondered Todd,” he said as he picked up the axe, “I wondered why she stopped talking to me.  I was her best friend and maybe even one day her boyfriend but then I found out why.  It was because of you Todd.  You took her away and I was cast aside.  Now you’re gonna pay.  She died because of you.  I didn’t want to do it but when I became nothing in her life I had nothing to lose.  She became dead to me after that.”
“Joe, oh my god! You didn’t…”
“You’re the reason her life ended.  If she had never met you she would still be here.”
“Joe please…don’t…Don’t please,” desperately letting out his last plea as he began crying uncontrollable tears.
Joe went into the empty kitchen and began dragging a black bag across the floor. “Look Todd,” he said as he opened the bag revealing a face surrounded by body parts.  Her feet chopped at the ankle lay by her cheek and her hands lay sprawled across her forehead.  Emily’s eyes were still open, looking straight at Todd.
“Oh My God!  No! Why Joe! Why!”
“Because I loved her you goddamn fool!” he yelled as he approached Todd with the axe in hand.  “See this axe, I did most of the work with this,” he said reopening the front door of the cabin.  “Animals love the smell of bloody flesh.”
“Don’t kill me Joe…please don’t,” he said in a mess of bawling dignity.
“Oh don’t worry Todd,” he replied placing the gag back into Todd’s mouth.  “I’m not gonna kill you,” he said as he pulled out a revolver from his back pocket.  “I’m letting you live with this,” he continued as he put the gun to his temple and pulled the trigger.

There's Something That Always Knows

I’ve lived in my house now for 10 years and I’ve heard the ghost stories of the abandoned church that sits down the street.  There are plenty of different stories that have been created over the years.  Like the transparent man who sometimes appears wandering at the back end of the church said to be there to taunt you with gifts of pleasure.  But anyone who actually knows, knows the man isn’t transparent at all.  Or the story about a body floating in the tree on winter nights will full moons.  That doesn’t happen either.  The only thing many of these stories have correct is that it is a man whom appears but he isn’t a ghost, he’s something far more sinister than that.  In fact, there are no ghosts in the church because I don’t believe him to be ghost.  However, there is something happening there that is quite unsettling.  Something mischievous and perhaps even evil.  over the years people have become infatuated with this strangeness that they have given birth to many different stories but only a few have actually experienced this horrible man.  Me being one of them. I’ve experienced one such occurrence.  Only one, that I cannot quite explain or have fully moved passed.

There’s a bus stop I used occasionally that sits off to the side of the church.  I used it mainly in the mornings but there were those rare instances where I used it in the late hours.  Every time I’m there I can’t help but feel that eeriness that people have so often felt.  Something about that place with the old abandoned church makes it feel as if something otherworldly is lingering about in the shadows.  Watching you perhaps even looking into your soul.

This particular time occurred around 9pm.  I was on my way downtown to meet a friend.  I sat down on the bench and pulled out my phone.  The evening darkness was beginning to slide over the road and houses.  There was not a person in sight.  After a few minutes of me making a few texts I noticed a man walking toward the bus stop dressed in a very nice silk suit.  It glistened in the faint light of the lamp posts.  His shoes were black and shined with a business luster.  He looked like a business man headed to a meeting but it was so late that he must be going to dinner.  I figured he was on his way to his BMW but instead he stopped at the bus stop and sat down.

I sat silently for a few moments before he said something to me.
“Nice night huh,” he said pulling out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.
“Yeah, its not too cold.”
“Oh yes, I never liked the cold.  I love it when its really hot.  Those are the best days.”
“Yeah, hot days are nice but I don’t like it too hot.  But I bet on those really hot days you can’t wear your nice suit huh,” I said trying to make a joke.  He was kinda cute.
“Oh, the weather never dictates what I wear.  I wear what I want for the purpose of the person.”
I shrugged my face not quite understanding what he meant but definitely catching the scent of arrogance.
“Phil,” he said as he extended his hand offering me a cigarette.
“Lilly,” I replied as I waved away the offer.
“Not a smoker huh.  You don’t mind do you?”
“Not really and I smoke sometimes.”
“Just not now,” he said sliding the pack and lighter smoothly back into his pocket.
“Well, just when I’m drunk.”
He let out a small laugh behind his smirk.
“What do you like drinking Lilly? I’m a whisky man myself.”
“Vodka mostly.”
“Ah yes, Vodka.  Remember, a glass for the vodka.  And for the beer, a mug.”
I smiled and looked over at him. “I’l try and remember that.”
“Is that where you’re going?”
“Yes, going to meet a friend downtown for a few drinks.”
“Well, should be a good time.  It’s a perfect night for drinks.”
“Yes. I could use a few drinks after this week.”
“Long week?” as he took a drag from his cigarette.
“Too long.”
He let out a quick flash of smoke before sucking it back in.  “Relaxing over a few drinks and enjoying the moment is what makes it bearable to do it again. “  I nodded in agreement. “I say, have drinks.  Have sex.  Enjoy the pleasures that life has to offer because life can seem long but its really not.”
I smiled, “drinks and sex are two different things.”
“Are they really?”
“I’m meeting a girlfriend actually.  Well, a friend that‘s a girl.  Not actually my girlfriend girlfriend.  Just a girl who’s my friend. So um, yeah.” I sunk my head down in slight embarrassment.
“Oh, even better,” he said taking another puff. I just smiled and quickly turned my gaze to my phone.
“What’s your girlfriend’s name?”
“Amy.”
“Does Amy like threesomes?”
“Excuse me?” I said in slight disbelief.
“You know, threesomes.  Like you, me and her.”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” I said throwing as much attitude as I could.
“Believe me, if I continued with this meaningless chatter that’s where this was headed Lilly.  If you want, it can be just us two.”
“If you think this is working in your favor, you had better get a clue.”
“I don’t need anything Lilly beside your pussy.”
I was taken aback and could feel the situation getting tense.  I threatened with the only thing I could think of.
“If you don’t stop, I’ll call the police.”
“Go ahead.”  He just sat calmly taking drags of his cigarette as he leaned back into the bench.  I got up to walk away but before I could go he said, “Do you think your father Ray is burning in hell?”
I stopped in complete shock.  How did he know my father’s name?
“What did you say?” I asked as I turned reaching for the pepper spray I kept in my bag.
“Your father died two years back, right. Do you think he’s burning in hell?”
“How do you know my father’s name?”
“I know a lot of things about you Lilly.  I know a lot of things about everyone.  You know, I think he would have loved watching me rail you and your girlfriend Amy in your bedroom.  I would have made him watch too.  He always wanted a threesome but your bitch mom wouldn‘t do it.  Maybe that‘s why he cheated on her.”
“How do you know that ?  Now I’m really calling the police.”  I began to dial and when I put the phone to my ear all I could hear was static and a faint moan of pain like it was off in the distance.
“Did you hear that?  That moan?  Yep, its what you think it is.”  he said in an arrogant tone.  He kept smoking his cigarette and outstretched his arms on the back of the bench.  The fear started filling my chest and a tense terror straightened my spine.  What was going on here?  What was happening?
“Come on Lilly, sit down.”
“If you talk to me again I’m going to pepper spray your fucking face.”
“I wouldn’t like that Lilly.”
“I warned you,” I pulled out the can and pointed it at him.  He just sat calmly puffing away at his damn cigarette.
“Try me.”
I was so scared that I didn’t hesitate to spray him but it didn’t have any effect on him.  He just sat there staring at me.  I stood there in shock as fear and horror filled my eyes.
“It truly amazes me how easy it is to fill you all with fear,”  he said standing up and flicking his cigarette on the ground. “But at the same time, its just as easy to buy you with the simple pleasures of life.”  He calmly walked over to me through the mist of pepper spray.  I was frozen in shock and couldn’t move.  He grabbed my wrist and pulled the pepper spray can out of my hand.
“Why not enjoy the pleasures life has to offer?  Isn’t that what you want?  Isn‘t that what you did?”
I finally screamed for help and tried to get out of his grip but it was like an iron clamp.
“Who’s going to help you Lilly? You didn’t help your father as he laid there dying.  You weren’t even there when he let out his last breath.  Where were you?  Oh yeah, fucking your boyfriend because the grief was too much to handle.  Isn’t that how you justified it to yourself?  You hated him for cheating on your mother and how did you drown out that hate?  By satiating in your pleasures.”
I was absolutely horrified with what he was saying.  The worse part was that it was true.  How did he know about my deepest regrets and guilt?  My sins? How? I looked into his eyes and they had nothing behind them, no emotion, no life, just stone glossy eyes that I felt staring straight into my soul reflecting my horrified face.  I felt all my emotions in one jumbled mess,  overwhelming me.  I felt guilty, sad, horrified, scared, lost and shocked all at once.  I couldn’t control anything about what I was feeling and finally toppled over in tears.  He let go of my wrist and just stood there watching me cry.  “Pathetic,” he said finally.  I just stayed there hunched over on my knees sobbing and drooling over myself.  I looked up and he was nowhere to be found.

I don’t know who he was but I can’t get him out of my mind.  I feel I’ve forever been tainted by him.  He’s always in the deepest recesses of my mind.  No matter where I am, he is those dark reminders that creep up and over my mind leaving me in unsettled fear that perhaps he is peering into me right at that moment.  Laughing at me, enjoying the pain of my life.  I sit here alone, but I still feel him, hovering over my shoulders.  Watching.  I live in fear of my own thoughts because I know he watches.  He watches all of us.  All our guilt, regrets and sins.  Its horrible knowing he knows of my existence, its worse still that I have nightmares of me having sex with him.  On lonely nights, only the deep voice of my greatest fears provides any kind of thought and in the darkness that lingers around us all exists things waiting for our greatest weakness.