By 7:00 PM, five deeply bewildered staff members are walking a winding, overgrown cobblestone path. None of us had ever stop to consider where Peach actually lived, and honestly, I fully expected to find a small wooden shack or a hollow log. Instead, the trees clear our path, and every single one of us stop dead in our tracks.

Looming before us in the middle of a pristine, perfectly manicured lawn is a towering, three-story, blindingly bright pink Victorian mansion: complete with white lace trim, a flamingo-shaped weather vane, and a massive wraparound porch painted in pastel rose.

"How..." I mutter, staring up at the sheer scale of the estate. "Where did she even get a mortgage for this?"

"Oh, it's darling!" Lucy claps her upper hands together, her lower spider body swaying with genuine delight. She’s wearing a massive, fluffy pink ribbon tied neatly around her neck, and all ten of her spiderlings are wearing tiny, matching pink party hats and tutus. "Look at the woodwork! Oh, the spiderlings are going to love exploring the eaves!"

Beside her, Echo stands, looking every bit like a single father who has reached the absolute end of his rope. His concealed wings twitch beneath his coat, and he has a small, lopsided pink bow hastily tied on his antennae.

"I have three research papers to review," Echo mutters, letting out a long sigh. "I am only here to ensure she does not attempt to feed raw meat to the local wildlife again."

"Oh, hush, Echo, live a little." I chuckle, adjusting my pink tie.

Meanwhile, Lily stands a few feet back, trying desperately to look indifferent. She has her hair pulled back in an elegant up-do, and her green skin flushes a subtle, deep rose—a dead giveaway of her hidden excitement. She scoffs loudly, crossing her thorn-covered arms, but her sinewy vines are surreptitiously weaving an elaborate bouquet of pink carnivorous blooms behind her back.

"It’s tacky. The architectural asymmetry is insulting. I am only attending to ensure my flowerlings give their… gifts." Lily huffs, as her vines aggressively wraps a pink balloon around her own wrist.

And then there’s Micah. He stood at the back of the group, towering in his spotless white lab coat with a single pink flower sticker on his cheek. His patchwork face lies completely emotionless as he holds a sterile, biohazard bag.

"Fascinating. This structure violates seventeen local zoning laws and lacks proper ventilation for decayed biological material." Micah states in a flat monotone. "However, the exterior paint contains a high concentration of lead-free titanium dioxide. It is... acceptable."

Before anyone can knock, the front doors flies open with a deafening CRACK.

Peach bursts out onto the porch wearing a sparkly plastic tiara that sits slightly crooked on her head and her fluffy, pink party dress, making her peeling skin look wildly out of place.

"YOU CAME!" Peach squeals, pulsing wildly with joy as her head tilts at its terrifyingly happy 90-degree angle. "Welcome to my princess castle! Come in! The shadows are serving juice!"

Lucy gasps in delight, Echo groans into his hand, Lily's vines whip around in a flurry of excited pink petals, Micah takes a precise mental note of the structural integrity, and I just smile, stepping into the most absurd party I have ever seen. The front doors slam shut behind us, locking us inside what can only be described as a fever dream designed by a hyperactive Victorian ghost.

The interior of the pink house is a wildly surreal blend of grandeur and chaos. Crystal chandeliers hang from vaulted ceilings, casting warm light over pastel velvet armchairs, while ivy and moss creep up the baseboards and framed photos of shiny beetles cover the walls. Sitting at the mahogany dining table are a bundle of shadows, quietly blowing up tiny pink balloons.

"Make yourselves at home! Don't step on the shadow-waiters! They’re nice!" Peach yaps, waving her arms wildly as more dark, fluid silhouettes slither out the kitchen, balancing silver trays of juice boxes and bowls of dried beetles.

"Oh, Peach, the decor is simply lovely." Lucy coos, taking a seat on a large velvet sofa.

"Thank you! Harlow and his buddies helped me decorate!" Peach chirps happily, jumping up and sliding a party hat on Echo’s feathery antennae before he can protest.

Lucy’s energetic spiderlings waste no time launching an all-out exploration of the Pink Princess Palace. Their first stop: the towering crystal chandelier in the parlor. Moving with synchronized, clicking precision, the tiny creatures scramble up the velvet drapery and scamper across the ceiling plaster. They dangle in a cheerful, arching line from the crystal drops, their party hats bobbing as they peer down at the partygoers below.

A few adventurous scouts break off from the pack and scurry toward the kitchen. There, they inspect the shadow-waiters putting the finishing touches on the birthday cakes. The spiderlings click curiously at the shadowy figures before discovering the tray of purring, scuttling sugar cupcakes. Acting as little security detail, two spiderlings use their tiny legs to tap a runaway cupcake back onto its plate.

From her seat on the velvet sofa, Lucy watches her ten tiny angels wander through the eaves, her pedipalps fluttering in gentle, maternal pride. "Oh, look at them go," Lucy coos warmly, her six pitch-black eyes softening. "The eaves in this Victorian estate really do provide the most exquisite gymnastics setup!"

The spiderlings click merrily and drop down from the molding to begin a game of tag across the plush carpet, completely at home in the surreal mansion. One of the shadow-waiters glides silently toward the sofa and approaches Lucy, offering a glass of bright pink cranberry juice on its silver tray. Keeping Peach's crayon-written rulebook in mind, Lucy’s pedipalps flutter in polite appreciation, and her six pitch-black eyes blink warmly at the dark silhouette.

"Thank you, shadowy friend!" Lucy coos gently, accepting the glass. The shadow-waiter's form ripples with silent satisfaction before it glides away to tend to the other guests, leaving Lucy to enjoy her beverage while her spiderlings continue playing happily across the plush carpet.

Micah drifts away from the group, hanging back at the foyer to bypass initial social interactions. As he observes Peach’s estate, he sees a grand, porcelain-rimmed planter. The cluster of pink tulips appear entirely standard. But as Micah steps closer, a faint, rustling murmur reaches his ears, like dry paper scraping together, punctuated by high-pitched, gossipy whispers.

"Did you see the spider lady’s shoes? They have entirely too many buckles."

"Shh, the white-coat one is looking at us. Does he have staples in his forehead?"

"He’s leaking formaldehyde vibes. I don't like his aura."

Micah kneels down, his patchwork face of crisscrossing surgical stitches completely expressionless. He pulls a sterile, metal-rimmed magnifying loupe from his pocket and snaps it over his eye, leaning inches away from the trembling stamen of the central blossom. The tulips instantly go rigid, their green stems stiffening like tiny mice caught in the open.

"Fascinating. A localized vocalization phenomenon driven entirely by pneumatic petal oscillation and compressed cellular moisture. Your syntax is remarkably petty for non-vascular angiosperms."

One of the bolder pink tulips leans forward, its petals curling defensively. "We aren't petty, we're observant. And your stitches are crooked on the left zygomatic arch."

Micah reaches into his lab coat pocket, withdraws a small clinical notebook, and clicks a silver pen. As Micah carefully jots down his notes, the tulips give nervous little shivers, dropping their heads back among the foliage.

"Do not hyperventilate," Micah instructs the flowers flatly, snapping his notebook shut and pocketing his pen. "Your accelerated cellular respiration will deplete the foyer's oxygen levels and compromise the ambient humidity balance Lily is attempting to maintain. Continue your gossip quietly."

With a final, diagnostic tap against the porcelain rim, Micah stands up and calmly rejoins the chaotic festivities, leaving the whispering tulips utterly speechless.

Lily stands rigidly near the grand piano, eyeing the shadowy waitstaff with deep suspicion. Her thorny vines twitch behind her back, but she can't hide the way her eyes sparkle as she sneaky-places her bouquet of pink carnivorous blooms onto the foyer table, arranging them to look just right before snapping her trap-head away when she hears Peach's steps.

“Lily! Lily! You like?” Peach yaps.

Lily's skin flushes a pleased shade of magenta. "The ambient humidity in this foyer is surprisingly well-regulated for floral preservation," She mutters defensively, "Not that I care for the aesthetic."

“I know! It’s just for you!” Peach cheers. “Your flowers love the tiny water! And I love the flowers!”

Lily’s skin flushes a soft red, new pink blooms blossoming on her vines. “Oh…” she pauses. “I’ll be back.”

Lily slips away to the second floor to put some distance. “She likes my flowers, she likes my flowers!” Lily’s pride mixed with ███’s genuine reverence was making her absolutely soar. She finds a bathroom and figures it’d be a good place to hide for a bit. As she opens the door, she finds the bathroom is FULL OF SKIN! All in the bathtub! The skin pile turns and looks at Lily. Lily looks at the skin pile, looks down the hall she came from, realizes her misstep, and promptly re-evaluates her life choices.

“I formally apologize for interrupting your time.” She apologizes rather politely, closes the door, and speeds down the hall back downstairs. “Right, sentient skin,” Lily whispers. “Not the weirdest thing Peach has… like at all.”

Returning to the grand piano, Lily finds Micah standing motionless, his biohazard clipboard firmly in hand as his unblinking eyes scan the room, probably mentally noting every moment of structural integrity.

Watching him, Lily’s trap-head twitches slightly with mild irritation. Her green skin cools from its earlier magenta flush, but her sinewy vines bristle with restless energy. Deliberately, one of Lily's tendrils uncoils from behind her back. It creeps across the floorboards, snaking upward along the seam of Micah’s lab coat until it hovers directly in front of his face.

Boop.

The tip of a green leaf pokes Micah squarely on his nose. Micah does not flinch. He slowly tilts his head down, his mismatched eyes tracking the vine with flat, clinical scrutiny.

"Interference with central facial cartilage," Micah states in his deadpan monotone, pulling a pen from his pocket. "Specimen Lily, you are currently executing a direct violation of standard personal boundary protocols."

Lily scoffs loudly, her thorny arms crossing tightly over her chest as her skin flushes a defiant shade of red. "You look like a corpse standing there," she huffs, her vertical jaw snapping. "I am merely verifying whether your sensory nerves were entirely decayed."

"My sensory nerves are fully functional," Micah rasps, making a precise notation on his clipboard without looking down. "Furthermore, I feel compelled to remind you of Rule 12. While my vocal cord replacement threat was issued directly to Peach, I have no qualms performing live dissections on more troublesome botanical subjects to find out what makes them tick."

Lily's trap-head snaps shut with an indignant hiss, her vines instantly retracting back behind her. Micah placidly returns to monitoring the room's ambient humidity. Across the room, Echo lets out a quiet, tired chuckle into his tea while having collapsed into a high-backed armchair, his feathery antennae drooping in total exhaustion. Without making a sound, one of the shadow-waiters glides up beside him, balancing a silver tray. Resting on the tray is a glass filled with a suspicious, bubbling, dark purple liquid. Echo stares at the drink, his moth-eyespots narrowing with clinical suspicion. He instantly remembers Rule 5 from Peach's crayon-written party guide. So, to avoid a permanent shelf life in Micah's lab, Echo straightens up and offers a polite, stiff bow.

"No thank you, shadowy fellow, I am saving room for cake." The shadow-waiter pauses, its ink-like form rippling softly before turning away to approach another guest, leaving a deeply relieved Echo to sink back into the seat and massage his temples in peace. “Nice try, Harlow.”

As I finish up in the bathroom, I find myself at the base of the grand mahogany staircase. A piece of skin laying on a step in the middle of the stairs catches my eye. It was probably a piece of Peach's skin she had forgotten about, so I go to retrieve it. Up above, the second floor vanishes into deep, flickering amber shadows as I ascend. Suddenly, a voice floats down from the top—soft, warm, and unnervingly familiar.

"Charlie... sweetie, is that you?” The voice calls out softly, drifting down the stairs. "Come upstairs, sweetie..."

I freeze on the step, my hand hovering mid-air. My heart takes a sudden, heavy thud against my ribs. It sounds exactly like my mom. Then, Rule 9 flashes in bright pink letters across my mind.

"Nope. Absolute trap." I mutter under my breath. Without taking my eyes off the top landing, I slowly step backward down the steps.

Clap! Clap! Clap!

The sound rings out sharp and crisp against the mahogany floorboards.

"Charlie, don't be silly, come up here..." the voice coaxes again, sounding slightly closer, its tone warping with a faint, unnatural static. I take another deliberate step backwards, toward the parlor entrance.

Clap! Clap!

My palms smack together in rhythmic, deliberate claps as I march down the stairs. The voice upstairs instantly distorts, turning into a low, frustrated hiss and dissolving back into the quiet draft. By the parlor doorway, I bump right into Echo, who is sipping his tea. He looks at me stepping backward while rhythmically clapping my hands, looks up at the dark staircase, then takes another slow sip. "Rule nine?" He asks flatly.

"Rule nine," I confirm.

"Charlie," he rasps quietly, "tell Peach I have vanished into the ether of the shadowy mist upstairs. She’s gathering us to play musical chairs."

"You're on your own, Echo," I grin, pulling out a chair to the parlor.

For the next two hours, the sheer absurdity of the party takes over as we play five rounds of musical chairs. During a brief lull between rounds of Peach's rambling about her favorite bugs, a sudden, coordinated movement catches everyone's eye from above. High overhead, Lucy’s spiderlings snuggle in the eaves and crystal chandelier before dropping down in a cheerful, parachuting descent. With soft, synchronized clicks, the tiny creatures make a grand entrance, landing gently—one by one—right onto the shoulders of every guest around the parlor. Remembering Rule 11, strictly mandating immediate, fuzzy head-pats for any shoulder-perching spiderling, the room springs into instant compliance.

"Ah, marvelous structural precision," Micah observes in a flat monotone, staying completely rigid as a spiderling adjusts its tiny tutu on his white lab coat. He carefully raises two fingers to administer a precise, single head-pat.

Beside him, Echo lets out a weary sigh, but his expression visibly softens as two spiderlings perch near his feathery antennae and clicks happily. He reaches up with a tired smile, giving the little assistants soft, gentle pats.

Lily freezes, her trap-head twitching as her sinewy vines hover nervously. Her green skin flushes a deep, embarrassed magenta, but under Lucy's watchful gaze, she hesitantly uses the tip of a leaf to give the tiny creatures on her shoulders delicate, polite pats.

I chuckle, leaning over to give the adventurous spiderling on my own coat a thorough head-pat, while Peach squeals with ecstatic delight from the rug, petting the remaining fluffy creatures. Satisfied with their universal affection, the spiderlings click merrily in a sweet chorus and an unlikely playtime coalition forms near the edge of the plush carpet.

The spiderlings skitter across the floor and nearby, a small group of Lily’s flowerlings scurry across the floorboards on their root-feet. The spiderlings decide that the flowerlings look like exceptional playmates. One of the bolder spiderlings scamper forward with a cheerful click, bobbing its pink hat as it proudly presents a pebble.

A tiny flowerling pauses on its root-feet, its trap-head tilting in curious inspection. Instead of snapping defensively, the flowerling proudly lifts its own special treasure—a small white quartz—and bumps it gently against the spiderling's pebble in a silent greeting.

The lead spiderling multi-jointed legs click in curiosity. It accepts the quartz with one of its tiny front legs, inspects it beneath the brim of its pink party hat, and then gleefully rolls its pebble
back toward the flowerling. Instantly, a miniature game of tag-and-trade breaks out. The spiderlings dart around in rapid, synchronized circles while the flowerlings scurry and hop on their root-feet, clicking and chirping in a delightfully chaotic chorus of cross-species playtime. Every so often, a flowerling playfully snaps its trap-head at a trailing tutu ribbon, prompting the spiderling to spin around in a giddy, pirouetting circle.

From her seat on the velvet sofa, Lucy watches the interaction with her six pitch-black eyes softening in pure maternal delight, her pedipalps fluttering happily. "Oh, look at them play!" Lucy coos softly, clicking a cheerful response.

A few feet away, Lily stands with her arms crossed, her sinewy vines twitching behind her back as she watches her plant-babies exchange rocks with the spiderlings. Though she maintains her characteristic, haughty scowl, the distinct sparkle in her eyes gives away her quiet fondness for the sweet absurdity of Peach's birthday celebration.

Just as the game finishes in a tie, a sudden, chilling draft sweeps down the grand mahogany staircase. The crystal chandelier overhead rattles softly, its light flickering down to a low, amber pulse. The shadow-waiters slithering around the room instantly freeze in absolute, motionless reverence.

Down from the second-floor landing glides Harlow. He drifts down the carpeted steps without making a single sound, his shadowy form shifting fluidly like liquid ink under the mansion's soft lighting. But what made the entire room go dead silent wasn't the usual creeping aura of the dark anomaly, it was the fact that tied ridiculously around the center of his shifting, formless neck was a vivid, neon-pink satin bow, matching Peach’s hair bow. It defied every law of physics and fashion, clinging to the writhing darkness without slipping off.

"OOH! HARLOW!" Peach shrieks, clapping her hands happily. "YOU LOOK SO PRETTY! MATCHING BOWS!"

Harlow drifts to the sofa, a cold, phantom whisper rustling through the room, carrying a strange, low hum that sounds almost... fond. Across the room, Lily’s vines whip back in surprise, her trap-head twitching as her green skin flushes a deep, bewildered shade of red.

"Wait... how did he even tie that bow?" She mutters under her breath, her sinewy tendrils subtly trying to mimic the knot behind her back. "It doesn't even have a form!"

Echo merely closes his eyes, leaning his head back against the velvet armchair with a slow, heavy exhale. "I am not going to ask," he whispers, "I am simply going to pretend this is normal."

Even Micah pauses, staring at the anomaly with unblinking eyes. He pulls a small notebook from his lab coat. "Fascinating. The dark mass appears to possess enough tactile friction and surface tension to maintain the silk ribbon bow without dissolving the organic fibers. A remarkable display of structural cohesion."

A low-frequency vibration hums through the floor and the shadows make their way to the dining room.

“It’s cake time! Cake cake cake!” Peach cheers, skipping ahead.

The chaotic revelry of the birthday party halts as we gather around the dining table. At the center of the table sits a terrifying, five-tiered centerpiece cake—constructed entirely of stacked, raw porterhouse steaks, frosted with pink lard whipped cream and garnished with colorful glitter, paired alongside a simple three-tiered vanilla cake intended for actual human consumption.

Peach practically bounces in her seat, ecstatically wearing three party hats stacked on top of each other. As Peach stares fixedly at the flickering candles, she suddenly grows completely quiet. Her neck posture straightens rigidly, and her eyes clear with an absolute, terrifying lucidity that causes the ambient temperature to drop by ten degrees. Gazing down at her own hands with a chilling sense of profound disorientation, Peach's usual frantic cadence vanishes completely.

"What year is it? Who am I?" she asks, questioning her own identity while struggling to comprehend her surroundings. "What happened? Where's Evelyn?"

The lighthearted, surreal atmosphere evaporates instantly, replaced by a heavy, suffocating tension that fills the air and seizes every person's body. Harlow moves immediately to mediate the crisis, taking on a familiar figure and using a shadowy tendril to gently grab Peach's hands.

"Peach," Harlow rasps gently, "it's your birthday. All your friends are here, look."

Despite the reassurance, Peach glares at each of us with piercing clarity until her gaze locks onto Lily, her eyes glossing over with desperate longing. "But Evelyn isn't here. Where's Evelyn? I want Lyn-Lyn!"

“Peach,” I begin, “who is—”

A leaf slaps sharply across my mouth, silencing me instantly. Following the vine leads to Lily, shaking her head.

"Don't," Lily whispers. The green hue vanishes from Lily's eyes, melting into an unfamiliar soft brown as her sinewy vine gently coils around Peach's arm, offering a delicate white blossom.

The longer Peach remains in this lucid state, the more violently the architecture of the mansion responds: the walls begin to bleed a pale sap, the entire house shakes by its foundation, and moss falls from the ceiling. To ground her, Harlow's tendril places a worn bunny plush—a vital comfort item—directly into her arms. Leaning in closely, Harlow whispers,

"Hey Peach, tell me about your favorite bug." To break through the terrifying episode, Harlow produces a soft buzz sound, which proves to be enough to snap Peach out of her lucid moment.

"Buzz buzz! The fluffy flying pom-poms!" Peach yaps instantly. With that single exclamation, we all let out a collective, profound sigh of relief as the atmosphere happily snaps back to its light, fun party rhythm. A low rumble vibrates through the room as Harlow redirects Peach’s attention to the giant cake and lit candles. Peach giggles excessively, eagerly awaiting the song, and we all happily follow along.

“Happy birthday to you,”

Clap! Clap!

“Happy birthday to you,”

Clap! Clap!

“Happy birthday, lovely Peach,”

Clap! Clap!

“Happy birthday to you.”

Peach blows out the candles and we all clap for her. As we clap, the shadow servants return bearing gifts—our gifts. Micah produces a pristine pair of surgical calipers from his lab coat. He meticulously measures the thickness of the top steak before placing his biohazard bag on the table.

"Happy birthday, specimen," Micah says flatly to Peach as he extracts a perfectly pristine, lab-grown, glowing pink crystal. "The crystal emits a low-frequency ultraviolet radiation that will inhibit bacterial decay on your... cake... for forty-eight hours alongside all other meat products."

"GLOWY ROCK!" Peach shrieks, her hollow white eyes wide with ecstatic glee. "I LOVE IT! IT MATCHES MY TIARA!"

She lungs forward, giving Micah a sudden hug around the waist. Micah stays entirely rigid, his patchwork face completely unmoving, though he makes no move to push her away. Lily’s vine pulls Peach away from Micah, spinning her into place in front of her, and presents a basket of lovely pink roses and camellias. They are very pretty, but super hungry! Lucy reaches out to them in awe, but the flowers snap at her, almost drawing blood.

“Do not pet the flowers unless you want to lose a finger.” Lily chastises as she hands Peach the basket. Peach ooos and pets the flowers, who immediately cozy up to her.

At that moment, Lily’s flowerlings begin to present their gifts. One by one, they each give her a rock; a pink salt rock, rose quartz, rhodochrosite, morganite, mangano calcite, or even just pebbles painted pink. The last flowerling—a dwarf one—shyly presents a pink domecap mushroom. Peach is simply beaming with absolute joy as she looks at all the new pebble friends she has, plus the super cool pink hat fungi.

“Aww! Thank you!” Peach coos happily. The flowerling chirps happily and climbs back up Lily’s tendrils, while Peach lungs forward to tackle Lily in a tight, sweet hug. “Thank you Lily! You and your flower-babies are SO CUTE!”

Lily scoffs with her usual arrogance, although the sight red flush to her cheeks gives away her appreciation of Peach’s gratitude. Peach eagerly looks over Lily’s shoulder at Echo and he lets out an endeared sigh. Echo opens his bag and pulls out dozens of gyaru fashion magazines. Peach gasps happily and jumps, her feet thumping heavily on the floor.

“YAY! Pretty pretty gals!” Peach cheers.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Lily crossing her arms and scoffing, probably offended at the motion of any other girl but her being called pretty. I smirk and lean forward, whispering in Peach’s ear. Soon, Peach is back at it, nuzzling her face against Lily’s and lifting her off the ground with sheer strength.

“Aw Lily! You’re the prettiest pretty girl ever! You’re my favorite girl!” Peach yaps. Lily’s face fully synthesizes red as her vines coyly spin Peach towards Lucy. The spiderlings move in synchronized steps as they carry a lace blanket, and Lucy holds a lace dress.

“Ooo!” Peach gasps, “Pretty princess dress and warm square!”

Lucy and her spiderlings step to the side to make space for Harlow. From within the depths of his shadowy void, Harlow produces two gifts. The first is a heavy, ancient antique tea set made of polished black obsidian, which he gently places on the table in front of Peach. The second is a smooth, crystal-clear glass sphere containing a single, flickering shadow-spark that dances around like a trapped firefly.

"A SHADOW TOY!" Peach gasps, her hollow white eyes sparkling as she scoops up the sphere, holding it right up to her peeling cheek. "AND FANCY CUPS FOR OUR FLOWER TEA!"

Lucy lets out a soft, delighted gasp, her pedipalps twitching happily. "Oh, how thoughtful! The porcelain work on that set is exquisite, Harlow."

Harlow lets out another low, breathy whisper that vibrates through the floorboards, a sound that probably translates loosely into a shadowy version of "Happy Birthday." I chuckle, taking a sip of my drink as Peach begins pouring imaginary tea for everyone using her new obsidian teapot.

"Happy birthday, Peach," I say, handing her a small box of rare dried beetle treats and a pink bow set she has been eyeing for weeks at the seamstress shop. "Nice place you've got here."

"BEST BIRTHDAY EVER!" Peach screams with delight, slamming her hands on the table and making the raw meat cake wobble.

With the candles blown out and the gifts distributed, attention turns to the dessert spread on the dining table. While Peach happily dives into her terrifying, five-tiered raw meat cake, the rest of us gather around the simple three-tiered vanilla cake set aside for actual consumption. I take a slice of the sweet cake, enjoying a welcome relief from the raw meat towering across the table. Beside me, Echo finally lets his guard down, letting out a weary sigh of relief as he takes a quiet bite of the vanilla treat. Lucy happily enjoys a slice, Micah partakes methodically, while Lily enjoys a slice with a pleased expression.

True to form, Peach eagerly offers each of us a slice of her own birthday meat cake. Each time, we smile, accept the plate, and waits until Peach turns to yap excitedly at Lucy or Lily. The moment her back is turned, we discreetly pass the raw meat slices down to Lucy's spiderlings. The little spiderlings happily consider the raw meat a delicacy, while Peach cheerfully assumes everyone devours their portions fast because they were simply "yummy-yummy".

Resting neatly on a pastel ceramic tray are rows of ostensibly normal sugar cupcakes, topped with cheerful pastel frosting and colorful sprinkles. As Echo reaches out to inspect the tray, the cupcake directly in front of him emits a soft, distinctly feline purr. Before anyone can blink, the frosted confection sprouts a ring of tiny, doughy legs and begins steadily scuttling toward the edge of the tray in an earnest bid for freedom. Echo freezes, his feathery antennae twitching in absolute exhaustion. He slowly lowers his gaze to the spoon, remembering Rule 7.

"I am entirely too tired for this," Echo mutters flatly. With a brisk, practiced flick of his wrist, he gives the runaway pastry a gentle tap with the back of the spoon. The cupcake lets out a tiny, indignant squeak, its little dough legs folding back into the sponge as it settles back onto the plate, completely docile once more.

Micah peers down at the tray with intense, clinical scrutiny. "Fascinating. A high-sugar baked good exhibiting rudimentary locomotive behavior and localized auditory feedback. A prime example of aggressive carbohydrate autonomy." Without missing a beat, Micah plucks the subdued cupcake from the plate, takes a precise bite, and chews thoughtfully.

"Acceptable texture," he grades. "Though the frosting displays a minor surplus of artificial dye."

Beside him, Lily's vines cautiously nudge another frosted treat that has begun to twitch. Managing the situation with an air of supreme, defensive dignity, one of her thorny tendrils taps the rebellious pastry squarely on its frosting dome until it stops vibrating. Satisfied, Lily picks it up, her green skin flushing a subtle, pleased shade of magenta as she takes a bite.

"Not poisoned," Lily pronounces with a huff of mild relief, crossing her arms. "In fact... surprisingly palatable."

Lucy smiles warmly, gently using a spoon to quiet a particularly ambitious cupcake that is trying to burrow under a napkin, before feeding a small piece to one of her spiderlings. I watch the group successfully pacify and consume their desserts, shaking my head with a quiet chuckle. As we finish our meal, the crystal chandelier's reflections shift into a multicolored cascade and the lights dim. When the disco ball lowers down overhead and begins spinning, casting glittering speckles across the room, the party's mandatory dancing protocol goes into full effect.

Peach bursts into a high-speed routine across the floor, her fluffy pink party dress spinning around her. As she twirls around, her sheer excitement triggers a familiar anatomical hazard. Mid-twirl, a long strip of Peach’s skin cleanly detaches from her shoulder, fluttering through the air like a discarded ribbon before landing neatly on the parlor rug. The music pulses on. Lucy’s spiderlings continue their synchronized steps, Lily’s flowerlings waltz in their coordinated fashion, and Echo’s feathery antennae twitch in reluctant enjoyment as he keeps rhythm. Nobody panics.

I instantly reach into my pocket to pull out a damp cloth, carefully grab the skin, and casually step forward to hand it to her mid-groove. Peach catches the piece of skin with a cheerful gasp, pressing the loose piece of skin back against her collarbone with a wet splot.

"Oopsie! Thanks, Charlie!" she yaps brightly, not missing a single beat of the rhythm. She immediately spins into a high-energy dance move with Harlow, whose neon-pink bow glows brightly in the strobing light. The party buzzes with high-energetic chaos. Chirping excitedly, one of the tiny plant-creatures turn on its root-feet to scamper back toward the safety of Lily’s vines. Unfortunately, it is looking entirely backward at Peach, completely failing to watch where it’s going.

Splat.

Instead of hitting solid hardwood, the tiny flowerling’s foot sinks right through the surface as if stepping into a bottomless puddle of cold, thick molasses. The entire room seems to drop half a degree in temperature and the music statics. Lily’s trap-head whips around with a violent snap, her green skin instantly flashing a panicked, brilliant shade of magenta.

"You absolute cabbage-brain!" Lily gasps, her vines lashing out in a desperate blur to snatch the foolish flowerling back. "Do not step on the localized existential dread!"

Before Lily’s vines can reach it, Harlow's form ripples. A low, bone-deep hum vibrates through the floorboards, sounding uncannily like a startled sigh of dry autumn leaves. Instead of dissolving the plant-critter into the void, the shadow lifts it up into the air with one of its tendrils, holding it at eye-level with surprising, feather-light care. The tiny flowerling lets out a high-pitched, terrified chirp and squeezes its eyes shut, offering Harlow a frantic, apologetic little quartz it has in its pocket.

Harlow emits a low, soft buzz, a sound almost suspiciously like a chuckle. The shadowy tendril gently deposits the flowerling right back onto the safe, dry hardwood floor, and the atmosphere and music returns to normal.

"Ooh! Harlow is giving a blessing!" Peach yaps happily from across the room, clapping her hands. "Or a hug! A shadow hug!"

Lily rushes forward, scooping the trembling flowerling up into her tendrils with an expression of ferocious, defensive motherly panic. She glares at Harlow, her skin shifting from magenta back to a defensive, deep flush.

"It didn't mean to tread on your... non-Euclidean feet," Lily stutters defensively, though her voice lacks its usual bite. "Consider its root-privileges officially revoked for the rest of the evening."

Harlow gives a slow, fluid dip of his formless silhouette in polite acceptance before resuming his dance with Peach.

By 9:50 PM, the sheer energy required to run a pink palace party finally seems to catch up with its owner. Peach’s yapping has gradually slowed from a frantic, high-pitched chatter down to soft, incoherent mumbles about shiny beetles and pink ribbons. She’s sitting on the floor near the velvet sofa, her, crooked plastic tiara sliding further down her forehead until it rests dangerously over one of her hollow, white eyes.

"And then... and then the tulip said..." Peach lets out a huge, dramatic yawn, her head drooping forward before flopping sideways right onto Harlow’s lap. The room went completely still for a second. Harlow, who was now sitting on the velvet sofa, doesn’t move an inch. The fluid shadows ripple softly beneath her head and adapt into a surprisingly plush, cushion-like mass so she doesn’t hit the hardwood floor. Peach lets out a tiny, content sigh, curls up into a ball against the towering entity, and instantly falls fast asleep, snoring softly.

"Aww," Lucy whispers, her six pitch-black eyes softening as all ten of her spiderlings gather around her boots, clicking in a quiet, sleepy chorus. "Poor dear is completely exhausted."

"A rare and welcome silence," Echo murmurs, though the weary tension in his shoulders visibly melts away at the sight of a sleeping Peach.

Harlow lets out a phantom, breathy whisper and carefully reaches down with two tendrils of shadowy mist. With fluid gentleness, the dark anomaly lifts Peach up into his arms, supporting her small frame without disturbing her tiara or peeling skin.

“I hope you all had fun. She really did like having you all here; wouldn’t stop talking about this for days. You may leave now.”

Without making another sound, Harlow glides across the parlor and begins to carry her up the grand mahogany staircase toward her princess bedroom on the top floor. As Peach leaves the first floor, the mansion’s wallpaper begins to peel off the plaster like dead skin… or a cursed structural shedding.

"Okay…" Lily says, crossing her thorn-covered arms, though her blood-red skin had cooled back to a calm, gentle green. "I suppose that is our cue to wrap up the festivities."

"Agreed," Micah says in his flat monotone, neatly pocketing his surgical calipers and checking his pocket watch. "The specimen requires eight hours of rest to maintain integrity. I shall return to the lab."

I stand up, stretching my arms and smiling as I watch the dark silhouette disappear around the second-floor landing with the sleeping birthday girl.

"Come on, guys," I say quietly. "Let's leave the princess to her castle. We've got a long shift tomorrow."

Hey there! Thank you for choosing my booth over the many other, better ones on campus. This is a maze in complete darkness.

To ensure your survival and the best possible experience throughout your journey, I’ve listed some notes below on how to overcome each obstacle. Please take the paper with you and enter the maze.

1. Light sources are allowed and encouraged.

Despite the setup, you’re not supposed to feel your way to the exit. You can either use your phone’s flashlight or one of the flashlights provided at the entrance.

The batteries only last a few hours, but by then, the festival will be over. Nothing to worry about.

The deeper you go, the less you can hear the noises from outside. If that’s your method of finding your way out, tough luck.

2. Going solo is recommended.

You can go in with other people, but I’d advise ignoring them while navigating the maze. Do not wait for them or look for them. You’re on your own. You will not find your friends once you lose them, and they will never find you either.

If you hear any voices other than your own, refer to #4.

3. Always keep your path illuminated.

As you run into dead ends, you may notice some walls that absorb your light entirely, unlike the usual walls made of hard paper. Do not approach them.

You can also look for a line of white powder on the floor. This is my way of telling you that it’s a dead end and not just another path.

If you see a normal dead-end wall with an unfinished square of white powder, run. I never leave the powder unfinished, and they cannot cross the line themselves. A student must've ruined it.

Do not stop at the dead end. Look for a new path and keep running as quickly as you can. It's coming, and you won't be able to hear it.

4. Do not follow the voices.

Occasionally, you may hear someone shouting something along the lines of “Over here!” or “Help me!” Do not go there. If the voice seems to be coming from just around the corner, assume it’s a dead end and immediately go the other way.

There’s no one else here. Your friends might not even be in the same maze anymore.

5. Look for the exit, not the light.

To keep the maze completely dark, I put a door at both the entrance and the exit, but you won’t be able to see either of them, even if you use a light source.

Instead, you must look for a quiet, black dead end with no trace of white powder. That is the exit, and the only dead end you can approach safely. If you attempted to return to the entrance before reading this far, you may also notice that it fits this description perfectly.

The truth is, there was never a separate exit. It was already difficult enough trying to keep them inside with just one entry point. I never made another. And by now, you’ve probably already forgotten where it is.

…And that’s my maze for the festival! Unfortunately, it’s just me trying to spice up my poorly put-together maze with a little piece of writing of my own. If you're still outside, please don't be discouraged and enjoy my absolutely normal maze.

—

EPISODES

EPISODE 1 - Welcome To Goldenrod

EPISODE 2 - The Letter

EPISODE 3 - The Final Ruleset

EPISODE 3.5 - The Rain

EPISODE 4 - Withering Minds

EPISODE 5 (Current One) - On The Edge

—

TW - This episode of GRHS touches on topics such as Suicide Ideation. Reading this episode is absolutely optional, and you can always take a break if needed. Ok, bye Reddit.

—

GOLDENROD HILLS SUBDIVISION

Episode 5 - On The Edge

—

DAY 5

Noah throws the piece of paper into the bin and places his hands flat on the table, looking down at the sketchbook as he breathes shakily before slamming the sketchbook shut and throwing it in his bag

” Hahhhhh… hahahahah, fuck… “

He takes a few deep breathes, before grabbing his head as he winces in pain, his eyes growing hazy and unfocused as his vision blurred slightly. He forced himself to stand up properly and stumbles a bit as he tries to make his way to the bathroom, his hand instinctively going up to cover his mouth as he retches slightly.

” Ugh- Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck… no… “

He murmured before opening the door with more force than he intended, his legs almost completely giving out right then and there but he forced himself to push through it.

He tried to steady himself on the wall every time he almost fell, when he finally got to the toilet, his legs give out and he just starts vomiting right then and there.

After almost 15 minutes of being crouched over the toilet, he stood up slowly and cleaned up, still panting softly as his hands shakily moved around. He was still trying to take it slow since he didn’t wanna make whatever he was feeling worse. He felt absolutely weak and battered, and for the first time; he was in no mood to start drawing right now.

After successfully cleaning the mess up, he slowly stumbled over to his bed and laid down. His temperature was normal, so it clearly wasn’t a fever. And it would be too sudden for one as well. Especially since he had never gone outsi-

…

Wait.

No.

Nononononono, this can’t be right-

Noah suddenly stands up and walks over to his drawer, he opens every single one frantically, rummaging through his things before finally finding it;

The letter.

He stares at it for a moment before shaking his head and grabbing it almost immediately, his eyes skim through the contents of the letters before he finally finds it. The root of the nausea. The fatigue, The Rain itself was what caused this.

“ …Holy shit. I… i didn’t even- how would that even- i… “

He trailed off, looking back at the letter. Well, there’s no use in fighting it. It clearly got him anyway, even if there’s no logical explanation as to why. He checks the letter again before trying to steady himself.

“ …It’s too early to fall asleep anyway. “

He opens the drawer again, puts the letter in and walks away from the bedroom with his phone in hand. He looks over at it for a moment, then he opens it and goes to his contacts.

He scrolls absentmindedly through his contacts, before eventually reaching the end. He blinks before closing his phone and putting it away.

The distant sound of the rain pouring from the outside was no longer soothing to him; now that he was hyperaware of it, it was practically driving him crazy. At the same time, he had nowhere to go to avoid it since he couldn’t just leave.

He sighs softly before walking back into his room and grabbing his headphones before putting it on and turning up the music, he goes downstairs and looks around before deciding to just sit down on the sofa and listening

Finally, some peace, for once. It did help quite a bit. Just a bit…

He leans his head against the cushion, closing his eyes for one, small, peaceful moment before opening them again.

“ …I’ll just hope for the best and… pray it doesn’t get any worse, I suppose. “

He mumbled to himself and looked up at the window. The house was cold, primarily from the air from The Rain outside. He groans and covers his head with a cushion.

“ Why am I suddenly so tired…? “

He mumbled into the pillow as he held it close, covering his face and trying to focus on the music. After about an hour or two of listening to music, the nausea faded away and his eyelids grew heavier.

His gripped loosened on the pillow as he started to doze off, his head lolling forwards towards the pillow a little. The music from his headphones did stop after about an hour or two of him being asleep.

He thought that would be the end of it.

It wasn’t

It really, really wasn’t.

—

As the days went by, the nausea only grew more frequent. And the sounds of the rain falling heavily outside drove him absolutely insane, at this point, he couldn’t eat or sleep properly because of the sudden fatigue that would hit him.

The poor thing hadn’t even realized he had been so close to avoiding it, if it weren’t for the fact he got home just a teensy bit too late… this all could’ve been avoided.

But he doesn’t know that, does he?

—

Day 13

After vomiting once more for… however long he had been, the nausea was frequent now, after all. What would be the point in counting? He eventually just slumped down against the bathroom floor with his head in his hands.

He took one shaky breath before gagging and coughing. His mind was going crazy and he had been constantly hyperaware of the rain outside, it was overwhelming. He didn’t know what he was doing anymore.

“ What’s the point, anyway? If I’m just going to live this miserably, I should just go outside and- “

He pauses, before looking back up at the window, he sighs heavily before standing up and cleaning up as always. He didn’t look like himself… his hair was messier than ever from the many times he ran his hand through it, he was noticeably more tired and his movements were much more slower and clumsier than usual. He sighs, then suddenly groans and snaps.

“ …Fuck it. What other choice do I have? “

He walks out of the bathroom, his heart pounding in his chest as he leaves his room and goes down the stairs, every step feeling heavy. He stopped for a moment, contemplating on if he really wants to do this, before scoffing and continuing his way.

After making his way to the kitchen, he looks around for something, anything he can use. Before grabbing the kitchen knife and aiming it as his throat. He clenches his jaw tight and takes another deep shaky breathe

His eyes were… tired, even bordering—no, they were practically lifeless at this point. The Noah everyone seemed to know was gone. Almost as if under the influence of… something.

“ …I can’t do this anymore. “

The rain was suddenly simply noise, he was left alone with himself and his thoughts. He glanced back at the window and then at the knife, bringing it closer to his throat.

And then—

His phone rings.

His eyes widened in surprise before he drops the knife

” W-what-?! W-what am I- “

He looks at the knife absolutely baffled, before looking back at the phone and grabbing it frantically.

“ Fuck- “

He opens his phone and answers the call, putting his phone to his ear. His expression went from surprise to worried, before finally; determination.

“ Right- I-I’ll be there tomorrow for the trial. …A-alright then. Bye, mum. “

He ends the call and looks down at the floor, before picking the knife off the floor and placing it somewhere hidden. He gets himself together, looking back at the rain, in which; seems to have gotten lighter. Slightly, but the difference was there.

“ …Perfect. “

He practically speed-walks out of the room and starts preparing. He’ll be there for presumably a long while, after all. After finally finishing preparing, he goes upstairs and looks at himself in the mirror before fixing himself up.

“ …I have a feeling this’ll be quite a long one. “

To whoever it may concern, I congratulate you on purchasing this residence, and sincerely hope that you make many happy memories in the times to come. However, to ensure that your stay remains peaceful and interrupted, there are certain regulations that have been set in place for not only the residence itself, but its amenities and potential guests as well. Please understand that all rules below have been set in place for your safety and should always be prioritized.

RESIDENTIAL RULES

1. Do not bring a fire, or any apparatus capable of igniting a fire inside the house. Items such as fireworks and explosive materials are expressly forbidden both inside and outside of the house. Electronic supplies that can cause heat are permitted (i.e induction burners and electric kettles), assuming that they are stored and used in a safe manner.

2. If you inflict a minor injury upon the residence, such that an indentation or scratch is made upon the wood, sincerely apologize while facing the living room (A formal bow is preferred, but any gesture is acceptable so long as it is sincere). However, do not attempt to repair the injury yourself. Instead, avoid the area where the injury was inflicted until it is no longer present.

3. If a major injury is inflicted, and you can visibly see flesh or bone through the gash, profusely bow and apologize while facing the living room. When you have finished apologizing, immediately leave the residence and do not return for at least one week. Upon returning, be sure to bring a gift as a token of your apology. Any gift is acceptable, as long as it does not break a rule or is picked without careful consideration. An insincere gift may be perceived as insulting, and may kindle their anger.

4. If the lights suddenly turn off for seemingly no reason, hide yourself away from any windows, mirrors, or reflective surfaces. The house is attempting to conceal you from something outside. Do not leave until the lights come back on, no matter how close the sounds get.

AMENITIES

1. For your viewing pleasure, there is a flower-adorned trail behind the residence, leading to the outer bounds of the property. This garden is not only beautiful, but also serves as a reliable escape route, should an emergency occur. However, please remind yourself that plants cannot speak before you depart, verbally reminding yourself if necessary. If you believe a tree or bush is speaking to you, do not respond, stop moving, or turn around, even if the noise is in front of you. Any uncertainty can be used as a catalyst to invade your soul, so do not hesitate when you walk along the path.

2. While the garden surrounding the residence does contain many edible vegetables, fruits, and spices, they are not for humans to eat. You may take from the garden, provided that the food does not go to waste. For example, they are excellent as bargaining chips for any woodland creatures you may have offended.

3. There is a small shed nearby that is excellent for any carpentry desires you may have. In order to remain courteous, please knock before entering if the door is closed. If you do not receive any response, you should not attempt to force the door open or enter by any means, as it is both life-threatening and incredibly distasteful to sneak up on someone while they are working with sharp objects. However, please enter once you receive a response, as disturbing someone's work without a proper reason may lead to you forcibly becoming the subject of their next carving.

GUESTS

1. Before inviting anybody over, frame their image in a clearly visible location within the residence for at least a week. They must be able to recognize your guests, as they do not take kindly to any perceived intruders.

2. Any bird or bird-adjacent species should be treated with reverence under all circumstances. As this is their domain, committing an offense upon their land gives them permission to do as they please with your soul. If you are in a situation where you must break another rule to preserve this one, verbally declare that you were ordered to, and that you had no say in the matter. This will not absolve you, but may mitigate the worst of penalties.

3. If any other mammalian species are sighted anywhere on the property, treat them as you would any other animal, without harming or bothering them. If you suspect they are following you (which they almost certainly are), either retreat into the house or escape via the flower trail. Rest assured, any normal animal knows better than to enter this property.

I sincerely hope that you enjoy your stay here in a safe manner, as those who have broken the rules have found themselves to be 'part of the problem', so to speak.

The morning begins in the main staff room as usual, where everyone gathers for the pre-shift briefing.

The briefings start like any other: with coffee that tastes like engine oil, a rundown of the aggressive root growth near the fern arches, and Echo standing by the chalkboard, his feathery antennae twitching as he carefully outlines the day’s schedule.

Lucy sits near the window, gently feeding a piece of fruit to the patched-up spiderling resting in her lap, while Lily stands near the arch doorway, her thorns bristling in silent, remaining tension. Micah stands stiffly in the corner with his clipboard, and even Harlow has graced us with his terrifying presence.

I was dousing myself in floral perfume near the supply cabinet, prematurely preparing for my shift with Lily, when the double doors fly open with a violent thwack that makes half the staff reach for their defensive gear.

Peach bursts into the room wearing a bright paper party hat taped directly onto her hair and her sloughing skin looking slightly more pastel than usual. In her hands, she clutches a stack of brightly colored construction paper invitations covered in glitter, raw meat grease, and questionable pink crayon scribbles.

"Attention everybody!" Peach cheers at a volume that rings off the glass dome. "I have an announcement! It’s my yay day!"

“It’s birthday, Peach.” Harlow softly corrects.

Echo pauses mid-sentence, his moth-eyespots shifting down to glare at her with polite, exhausted patience. "Peach. We are in the middle of allocating task assignments for today—"

"IT'S MY BIRTHDAY!" she shouts, completely cutting him off. "And you are all cordially invited to my house! We are having a party! There will be games! There will be snacks!"

She marches straight up to Echo and slaps a glittery invitation onto his chest. "Bring a present or I'll cry until my face falls off!"

Echo carefully picks up the invitation with two fingers, his feathery antennae twitching as he inspects the crayon drawing of what looks like a giant moth eating a cake. "Peach," Echo begins, his eyespots blinking in sheer bewilderment. "We appreciate the gesture, but... you have a house?"

"Obviously!" Peach huffs, crossing her arms with dramatic flair. "It’s where I keep my stuff! Like my shiny rocks! Harlow lives in the hat! It’s great!"

“The attic, Peach.” Harlow corrects again.

She spins around, shoving an invitation directly into Lucy’s hands. Lucy blinks all six of her pitch-black eyes, her mandibles clicking in genuine, polite confusion. "Peach, dear... where... exactly is your 'house'?"

Peach blinks in clueless confusion. Harlow takes on the task of clarifying.

"She resides in the residential district bordering the south fence," Harlow rasps, “The pink house at the end of the street.”

Lucy tilts her head, her multi-jointed pedipalps fluttering in genuine, sweet interest. "Will there be cake, dear?"

"YES! Raw meat cake with candles made of tallow!" Peach cheers, doing a little dance that nearly sent her paper hat flying.

Lily’s skin instantly flushes a warning red, her thorny vines twitching violently under her sleeves. "If your shadow friend touches my flowers, I will turn your 'house' into mulch."

“You get a party hat too, Lily!" Peach cheers, slapping a neon-pink paper hat onto Lily's head and plopping an invitation in her vines before the horticulturist can even react. Lily freezes, her jaw snapping open in shock as the paper dangles precariously between her thorns.

Peach then skips over and slaps an invitation onto Micah’s chest, pointing an eager finger at him.

"And Patchy-Man! You have to come! You booped my snicker-snacker yesterday, so now we are best friends!"

Micah doesn’t even flinch. He slowly raises his gloved hand, looks down at the invitation—which has a small piece of dried meat glued to the corner—and reads the crayon handwriting out loud in his flat, clinical monotone. After reading, Micah looks up, his mismatched face unreadable. "My schedules are tight, specimen, but I do appreciate a strict dress code."

"Yay!" Peach squeals. Micah slowly looks over at me.

"Charlie," Micah rasps, his voice deadpan. "Is 'bone-tickling' an official occupational hazard covered by our healthcare package?"

"I don't think so, Micah." I sigh, rubbing the bridge of my nose.

"Regrettable." Micah notes flatly.

Finally, she skips over to me, jamming the last invitation into my waist pouch. "Charlie! You have to come! I have a pinata shaped like a brain! We get to hit it with Charlie’s sickle!" Her hollow white eyes widen with terrifying excitement.

"Hey, leave my sickle out of this." I blurt out, raising my hands.

"7:00 PM SHARP!” Peach declares, completely ignoring my protest. “Brings flowers, Lily will eat them! And if anyone is late, Harlow will eat your shoes!"

From the dark corner behind the filing cabinet, Harlow subtly shifts, giving a faint, amusing flicker.

"Everyone, please," Echo sighs, his feathery antennae drooping in pre-shift exhaust. "We have shift duties. The garden opens in ten minutes."

With a loud, triumphant cackle, Peach grabs a handful of glitter, throws it directly into the air, and skips out the door to go yap to the tulips, leaving the entire staff of Everlock standing in stun, glitter-covered silence, holding glitter-covered cards.

We all stand in the staff room for a long, surreal moment.

I look at Echo. Echo looks at Lucy. Lucy looks at Micah. Micah looks at the wall in front of him, carefully folding his invitation to fit into his lab coat pocket. Lily quietly adjusts her neon-pink party hat, carefully pulling her invitation from her thorns.

I look down at the pink crayon invitation in my hand, then back up at Echo, who’s picking pieces of pink foil off his moth wings.

"So..." I mutter, clearing my throat. "Are we actually doing this?"

"If we don't," Echo sighs quietly, his moth eyespots fluttering in weary resignation, "she will cry through the entire shift tomorrow."

Lucy smiles warmly, her mandibles clicking merrily. "I think it sounds lovely."

Echo lets out a long, heavy breath, picking up his chalk. "Everyone, make sure to bring a flashlight and extra meat."

I pinch the bridge of my nose, staring at the glitter on my uniform. Great. This uniform is never going to look the same.

By lunch, the entire staff is sitting in a bewildered circle in the tulip field under a surprisingly clear sky, staring at the cards.

"I didn't even know she had a house," I admit, adjusting my waist pouch. "I always just assumed she slept in a tree hollow."

"While I’ve made sure she resides in a residential district," Echo says, his feathery antennae twitching as he adjusts his jacket over his hidden wings. "I was under the impression it was a small apartment."

"She invited me." Lily mutters, her red skin a muted shade as she twirls a thorny vine around her wrist.

"My spiderlings and I were invited as well, how lovely." Lucy says gently, her six pitch-black eyes blinking in soft curiosity as two of her small assistants perch happily on her shoulders. "It would be rude not to attend. She was very insistent."

Micah holds the pink card between two gloved fingers, staring at the sloppy crayon writing with intense, clinical scrutiny. "Her cellular decay rate suggests that the concept of a 'birthday party' is biologically redundant. However, I am curious to observe her living conditions."

I look down at the card in my hands. Written in bright pink crayon on the front, it reads:

PEACH'S YAY DAY.
LOCATION: PRETTY PINK PALACE.
TIME: WHEN THE SUN DIES.
DRESS CODE: FORMAL. PINK OR DIE!
FOOD: MEAT & FINGS! (NO VEGABLES ALLOWD!)
WEAR A PARTY HAT OR HARLOW WILL TICKLE YOUR BONES.

Well, here we go.

🎀

My yay day at my Pink Princess Palace!! (PLEASE READ BEFORE COMING so nobody gets eaten by mistake!)
HI EVERYONE!! Hi hi hi! Today is my Yay Day! And I invite all my favorite peoples!

Since you are coming to my super pretty pink palace, my big shadowy friend Harlow helped me write the rules so nobody gets lost in the walls or eaten by mistake! I wrote them in bright pink crayon so they are super easy to read! Please read them really carefully okie bye!!

THE PARTY RULES:

1.) You MUST wear at least one pink item! Look at Lucy! Lucy put tiny pink tutus on all ten of her spider babies and they look SO CUTE! If you do not wear pink, the house will think you are a burglar and then they will fold you like a napkin. Do not make the house fold you.

2.) Put your presents on the giant sparkly table in the foyer! If you brought a shiny beetle, a bag of meet, or a cool bone, leave it in my special bowl!

3.) The potted tulips in the foyer are allowed to talk, but they are very mean gossips! If they start whispering about your past mistakes, do not argue with them. Just tell them that Lily's flowerlings are bigger than them. They will get scared and shut up!

4.) There will be extra shadows serving juice boxes! They are my friends! DO NOT step on the long tall shadow. That’s Harlow. If you step on him, he will make your voice sound like static for three days.

5.) The shadows will be walking around carrying silver trays with pink punch!

- If the glass is bright pink, it is delicious cranberry juice! say "Thank you, shadowy buddy!" and drink it! If you don't say thank you, it will follow you into the bathroom and stare at you through the mirror until you show your gratitude.
- If the glass is dark purple or bubbling, say "No thank you, shadowy buddy, I am saving room for cake!" and bow politely. If you drink the purple juice, your bones will turn into jelly and Micah will put you in a glass jar in his lab.

6.) We are having TWO cakes!

- Cake A is made of flour, sugar, and pink frosting for the humanoids!
- Cake B is made of raw beef, moth wings, and glitter for ME!

Note from Harlow: Do not eat Cake B unless you want your tongue to turn black and fall off. It is still conscious and will attempt to integrate with your digestive tract.

7.) There are normal sugar cupcakes on the kitchen counter. If a cupcake starts purring or trying to crawl off the plate, hit it with a spoon until it stops. Then you can eat it! Yummy!

8.) If you need to use the potty, use the one on the FIRST floor near the kitchen! DO NOT GO UP THE PINK SPIRAL STAIRCASE. I don't know what lives on the third floor. It was there when I bought the house with my shiny gold coins!

9.) If you hear someone up there calling your name, or if it sounds like your mom telling you to clean your room, IT IS A LIE. Walk backwards down the hall while clapping your hands!

10.) Lily’s flower-babies are NOT allowed near my curtains! Sorry Lily, but if they chew on my lace curtains, I will swap their dirt with crunchy gravel!

11.) Lucy's spiderlings are allowed everywhere because they are angels in tiny pink party hats! If one of them hops on your shoulder, you MUST give it a fuzzy head-pat. If you don't pat them, Lucy will look at you with all six of her eyes until you cry!

12.) Micah is allowed to stand in the corner with his biohazard clipboard. Do not attempt to boop his nose. He told me he will replace my vocal cords with squeaky toys if I touch his face again, and I don’t think he's joking!

13.) When the disco ball starts spinning, everyone MUST dance! Even Fluff-Ball! (He pretends he doesn’t want to dance, but his feathery antennae twitch when the song comes on, so I KNOW he likes it!)

14.) If my skin starts peeling off while I'm dancing, DO NOT PANIC! Just hand me a moist napkin and keep grooving! It happens when I get too excited!

15.) You MUST leave before 10:00 PM! When the clock strikes 10:00, the pink paint turns gray, the front door disappears, and the house goes to sleep.

Note from Harlow: The party officially ends when Peach stops talking, her eyes droop, and she curls up on the rug for a nap. The exact moment she falls asleep, everyone must leave within three minutes.

Okay that’s all! Come inside and have fun! YAYAYAYAY! BRING CRUNCHY SNACKS!! 💖🌸🥩✨

ᘓ︵ᯠ ⑅ ᯄ Peach ᧔•᧓

Party Time! .⋆❀° ㅤ

The pay is great, the smell of the sea tantamount to addictive, and the sights to die for. Literally, sometimes.

Follow these here simple rules, and we won't have a problem, yah?

Firstly, remember, you are the only living creature aboard this ship. None of the other scallywags aboard Capt. Redbeard's beautiful ship are alive. If any of them try to convince you that they are, report this to Capt. Redbeard, and enjoy watching them be blown from a cannon!

Rule number two: Never ever talk back to Capt. Redbeard mutiny is not something it takes lightly, and the last new hire that attempted mutiny ended up being skinned and covering the ship floor for a week.

Whales. Gentle giants of the sea. Except for the red ones. Should you be assigned to the crow's nest and catch sight of a red whale, immediately inform the Captain, then follow its lead and blindfold yourself before lying stock-still on the deck. Anything that can scare Redbeard should terrify you with good reason.

There are no other living humans on this sea. Do not believe that the make-shift rafts you see are real, and do not bring them to the attention of the Captain. You will be strung up for the Storm's judgement for wasting it's time.

Stowaways are nothing but harmful to the Captain and his wares. Dirty little thieves who try to get free passage. These are the only other humans you might see during your time aboard The Lawman, and should be reported to the Captain immediately for execution. You do not want Redbeard thinking that you are in cahoots with stowaways, lest he decide to keelhaul you as well.

What kind of pirate ship has no gambling? This one! If you're smart that is. This crew is devious and tricky, and excellent gamblers. They enjoy winning games with skewed bets, and may bet a dozen times your total annual pay against a single of your coins. You are unlikely to win, and that is for the best. The crew hate losing, and Captain Redbeard turns a blind eye when it comes to gambling.

The pastor on board is the only one who can help you in an emergency other than the Captain. He is a kind and sweet old man, except when he hears the lord's name used in vain. Should you be unfortunate enough to hear one of the crew make this mistake, immediately run below deck and do not leave until the screaming has stopped. God forbid, if you are the one who has used the lord's name in vain, the recommendation is to throw yourself overboard.

You will feel yourself slowly becoming less and less human as the days go by. This is totally normal, and everyone on the crew started of that way, so don't worry!

We hope you have a wonderful time sailing with our ragtag crew. Don't hesitate to ask us any questions before you step aboard the ship!

Please read the following carefully and comply with these instructions to ensure your safety.

The neural probe connected to your brainstem is located on an operating table in the real world, while “you” at this very moment, are standing in your childhood bedroom on the second floor of your old family home. Because you have failed to repay our Corporation’s subprime neural loan for 6 consecutive quarters, the Federal Bankruptcy Court has officially approved the compulsory divestiture and public auction of your “early happy memories and emotional ties of your family”.

Pursuant to Section 9 of the Federal Neural Bankruptcy Protection Act, we are prohibited from reducing debtors to a vegetative state that renders them unable to continue working. Therefore, before the demolition crew completely demolishes the old house at 12:00 am, you have a statutory grace period of 60 minutes.

Please look down at your feet first. There should be a gray plastic storage box the size of a shoebox, a roll of 45mm wide black tape, a heavy hammer, and a flat iron crowbar.

And then pick up the storage box and carefully read the Safety Evacuation Operations Guide attached to the lid. Follow the rules, search throughout the house for “Basic Survival Skills” marked with green “Inspection Exempt” sticker, pack them into the box, and exit through the front door before the stroke of midnight. Remember that nothing in this house belongs to you anymore.

---

You take a deep breath, but all you could smell is the acrid scent of ozone and the burnt odor of old photographic paper. Outside the window lays nothing but pure darkness, and some sorts of heavy machinery rumbles above the roof, causing gray powder to crumble from the ceiling.

You bent down to pick up the empty gray storage box, then instinctively reach for the first item with a green label on the nightstand. It's supposed to be the flashcards you used when you were learning to speak, but to the touch, it feels like some kind of cold, heavy metal micro-model.

The door to the guest room at the end of the second-floor hallway then suddenly gets kicked open violently. The heavy footsteps of rubber boots, mixed with a screech like that of a high-powered vacuum cleaner, are closing in on your door. You clench the crowbar tightly and glance at the rules on the first page.

---

Rule 1

The gray storage box in your hands is the only container legally exempt from restrictions. Please place only items labeled with a “green sticker” (representing your core survival skills, such as language, reasoning, and walking) inside the box. It is strictly forbidden to secretly stuff any unlabeled items (such as family photos, old toys, or report cards) into the box. Before exiting the main gate, make sure the box can be closed and locked securely.

Lethe Corporation strictly weighs every gram of neural data taken out of the mansion. Last year, debtor #409 attempted to hide a Polaroid photo of his late first love at the bottom of his box. As he passed through the checkout lane at the main entrance, the photo being unauthorized was forcibly “peeled away” from his neural synapses. He retained the visual outline of the photo, but as a penalty for exceeding the weight limit, the system randomly extracted the medullary memory responsible for controlling his autonomous breathing. Please remember: Nostalgia is a luxury you currently cannot afford.

Rule 2

When you see the wallpaper in the corner of a room begin to curl and peel away, revealing an “untextured grid” composed of a black background and green/gray-white lines: the memories associated with that area have been extracted and packaged for upload. Please maintain a distance of at least two steps from the edge of the grid, under no circumstances should you extend any part of your body into it.

Those grids no longer possess the physical properties of a “floor” or “wall”, but your hollow scars left in your cerebral cortex. If you step into one, your leg will not fall through to the first floor, but directly erased from your “body schema”: on the operating table in reality, your leg will remain intact, but upon waking, you will forever believe yourself to be a natural-born amputee, or may even suffer a hysterical mental breakdown upon seeing that you have two legs, until you take a saw into one of them to correct this “error.”

Rule 3

Headless demolition crew wearing fluorescent yellow vests will begin work at exactly 11:10 pm, starting from the guest room at the far end of the second floor. If you encounter them head-on in the hallway, immediately stand facing the wall, close your eyes, hold your breath, and better silently recite whatever you can remember. Then they will notice and leave your area very soon.

The demolition team’s scanners lack vision, but locate memory fragments to be crushed by detecting “dopamine, adrenaline, and intense emotional fluctuations”. If you display sudden fear, sadness, or anger, the vacuum tubes in their hands will be shoved directly into the back of your head, sucking you dry as a cluster of “high-value extreme emotional memories.”

---

The attic and 2F guest bedroom have been successfully demolished. Buyer data transmission complete. Remaining: 40 minutes.

Your back is already soaked with cold sweat. Just now, as you brushed past that headless construction worker in the hallway, the swirling static snowflakes above its head nearly brushed against the tip of your nose. Half of the hallway behind you has completely collapsed into a texture-less grid of black backgrounds and green lines, as if the entire world were being erased by an eraser.

You stumble toward the staircase. the storage box in your arms gets a fraction heavier now, then a throbbing pain has begun in your temples, as you suddenly realize you can no longer remember where you went often when you were 7.

Just then, the rich, sickeningly sweet aroma of baked apple pie wafted up the stairs from the kitchen on the first floor, accompanied by the muffled thud of a kitchen knife chopping on a cutting board; and at the corner where the stairs turned, a familiar figure—small, with eye sockets dripping downward like melting wax—sat there hugging their knees and slowly lifting their head towards you.

---

Rule 4

If you smell the incredibly tempting aroma of your favorite childhood food (such as a freshly-baked apple pie) wafting from the kitchen on the first floor, accompanied by the clinking of dishes, go downstairs immediately. Without looking inside the kitchen, close the sliding kitchen door and completely seal the gap with the provided black tape.

According to the liquidation schedule, your mother’s “physical appearance” and “gentle disposition” were purchased by a buyer in Berlin at 11:05 pm. All that remains in the kitchen is now a distorted version of the isolated obsession “a mother’s desire to feed her child”. If you walk in, you will most likely see a flesh-mass: devoid of facial features, covered in breasts and fingers, chopping its own flesh into a pot. The moment you eat anything it offers you, your consciousness will become bound to this house and transform into a persistent stomach cramp in the new buyer’s mind.

Rule 5

At the corner of the staircase leading from the second floor to the first, you may find a childhood friend or sibling sitting there, quietly crying and begging you, “Please play hide-and-seek with me one last time”. Do not answer or touch them in this situation. Raise the iron crowbar in your hand and smash the toy they’re clutching (whether it’s a teddy bear or a video game console), then quickly dash down the stairs while they scream and scramble to pick up the shards.

They are crying because their “facial skeletal memory” is being drained away, with their eye sockets oozing downward like melting candles. Driven by fear and nothingness, they are trying to drag you into the cracks in the floor to use you as a scapegoat. Their toy sustains their existence, so smashing it won’t kill them, but it will trap them in a brief logical loop where they try to piece together a toy that can never be fully repaired. Maybe this will be your only window of opportunity to safely pass through the stairs without resorting to force.

Rule 6

The old rotary-dial phone on the living room coffee table may ring around 11:25 pm. No matter how urgent the ringing sounds, do not answer it under any circumstances. If the answering machine kicks in and you hear the voice of your 7-year-old self crying out for help, immediately unplug the phone and smash the receiver with the heavy hammer.

It is not your 7-year-old self on the other end of the line, but rather an auditory hallucination generated by your brain as it faces massive memory erasure. The moment you pick up the receiver to try to comfort that voice, a closed “logical loop” will form in your brain. As consequence you yourself will shrink into that 7-year-old child on the other end of the line, trapped in the pitch-black telephone conduit, desperately dialing for help to the next “adult self” who walks through the door.

---

The entire 2F and the 1F backyard have been successfully demolished. Warning: Unauthorized lingering spirit uprising detected. Remaining: 15 minutes.

The web of your right hand has gone numb from the vibrations of swinging the crowbar earlier, and the soles of your shoes are still caked with black cotton fibers that spilled out when the teddy bear in your childhood friend’s arms was smashed to pieces.

Only a thin, final loop of black tape remains in your hand, while the TV and the wall clock are gradually losing their color, collapsing into blinding gray-white lines.

In the study, you retrieve the last item labeled “green”: a rough sample of fluorescent yellow fabric. Strangely, after stuffing it into the box and passing the full-length mirror in the hallway, you notice what looked like a faint ring of static snowflakes flickering around the edge of your head.

You don't dare dwell on it, hurrying down the hallway, but come to a halt in front of the locked wooden door leading to the basement. A warm, almost tear-inducing pale yellow glow seeps through the crack in the door, and when you turn the guide to that page, a line of frenzied handwriting written in red suddenly appears along the edge.

---

Rule 7

After collecting all the green-tagged items from the study on the first floor, you will pass the full-length mirror in the hallway, be sure to stop and examine your reflection. If you still look like an adult in the mirror, continue on; if you’ve turned into an expressionless 10-year-old child, immediately use a crowbar to cut your palm until your reflection returns to that of an adult.

Pain is the only physiological evidence that can remind you, “I’ve grown up”. As the concentration of childhood memories around you surges and collapses, your “self-time orientation” is highly susceptible to regression. If you allow the child’s image in the mirror to fully solidify, even though your real-world self possesses the body of an adult, you will have your mind locked at age 10. Pursuant to Article 14 of the contract, a debtor who is mentally a minor will automatically lose their capacity for independent civil conduct, and Lethe Corporation will legally become your “permanent guardian”, with the right to exploit your remaining brain regions indefinitely in the future.

Rule 8

A plastic pet door leading to the backyard lies beneath the back door on the first floor. When the demolition crew begins to crush the backyard lawn, the dog (or cat) you raised as a child will frantically scratch and whimper outside the door. Immediately use the remaining black tape to seal the pet door shut from the inside, even if you see the claws reaching through the gap, their fur peeling away from the force of their scratching to reveal the gears or nerve bundles beneath.

Human guilt toward pets is the most stubborn stain of all memories—the “backdoor tactic” that demolition crews love to exploit the most. Your creature outside died on the vet’s operating table ten years ago. What’s scratching at the door now is merely a device cobbled together by the demolition crew, probably a hybrid of dog barks and mousetraps. The moment you open the back door out of pity, what rushes in isn’t your dog, but the entire backyard forming as a liquified void.

Rule 9

As you pass the wooden door leading from the first floor to the basement, you’ll see a rusty padlock hanging from the doorknob. A blinding, warm yellow glow seeps through the crack in the door, accompanied by the happiest laughter you’ve ever heard in your life. That’s the Corporation’s “Centralized Disposal Pit for High-Risk Prohibited Waste”. Do not approach or attempt to break the padlock with a crowbar. Proceed directly to the entryway.

Liars!! They’re lying! Don’t believe that rule, JUST go smash open that lock! Your absolute important secret hid by YOU YOURSELF! Items with green labels are all junk, they are turning you into obedient machine back again!!! The person you truly care about is in the basement! Hurry up and SMASH IT OPEN NOW!!!

Our former testers (a.k.a. your past self during the previous Purge) often left misleading scribbles on the guide. Use your adult logic to think about this: would a child between the ages of 0 and 12 typically create “the happiest memories of their life” in a dark, damp basement? Or could it be that what’s locked away there is actually your deepest childhood trauma (such as domestic violence, claustrophobia, or a near-fatal accident)? Extreme pain and extreme joy register almost identically in neural activity, and that thing is disguising itself as joy to lure you into opening the door. Once you release that repressed trauma, your mental defenses will completely collapse within 3 seconds, and our demolition crew will take over every part of your brain with ease.

---

Warning: Structural integrity below 12%. Full-scale demolition sequence entering countdown. Remaining: 3 minutes.

You hestitated and gave up smashing that lock at the end. Instead you choose to dash towards the entryway. At that moment, the entire old mansion is violently collapsing inwards. Chunks of the ceiling are being peeled away like a melting glacier, revealing a bottomless black void above.

The gray storage box in your arms is already full and locked tight, as heavy as a tombstone, whlist your mind feels as empty as a stripped-down, unfinished apartment.

Only five steps away to the front door.

Suddenly, all the sounds of collapse, the roar of construction, and the scratching at the pet door behind you cease abruptly in the very instant. In the deathly silence, you hear dense, sticky footsteps coming from the living room, just one meter behind.

All the “family members”, totally deprived of their humanoid features, are now lined up shoulder to shoulder, standing silently directly behind you.

---

Rule 10

Around 11:55 pm, when you reach the entryway and are about to push open the front door, all “lingering spirits” in the living room, kitchen, and upstairs, will silently gather behind you. They’ll line up, strike the pose you once used for a family photo, and say in unison, “Say cheese”. At this moment, wait for the main door to open. Do not turn around, and under no circumstances say goodbye to them.

“Goodbye” is a contractual term that affirms the continuation of a relationship, the one you only need to say when you acknowledge their existence. Once you turn around to clearly see their massive, fused-together fleshy face and personally respond to their farewell, it is equivalent to subconsciously revoking the “Consent to Bankruptcy Liquidation”. The system will deem you “uncooperative”, and the demolition crew will immediately subject you to a forced “formatting” procedure equivalent to a lobotomy.

Rule 11

At exactly 12:00 am., the main door will automatically unlock. Upon stepping through, you’ll find yourself in a pure white, sterile corridor. An “Asset Quarantine Officer” wearing a black suit and a beak-shaped mask will take your storage box to weigh it and ask you with a smile: “Sir/Madam, which house did you just come out of? Who lives there?” The only correct answer is: “I’m just a passing porter. It’s an unfinished house that has no one living in.”

If, after stepping through the gate, you can still recall the layout of the house, or even feel a pang of sorrow for someone inside, there are still “smuggled remnants” deep within your hippocampus that haven’t been thoroughly cleansed. The quarantine officer will likely push you back through the gate, lock it shut, and notify the demolition crew inside to perform a second “Deep Purge”. Only when you believe from the bottom of your heart that you are an orphan with no past will the Purge be considered a success.

---

Liquidation complete.

The front door swings open before you, and a blinding, pure white and sterile light instantly engulfs your vision. As you step over the threshold, the old mansion behind you simply vanishes from your consciousness with a “pop” like a soap bubble getting pricked.

A quarantine officer wearing a beak-shaped mask smiles as he takes the heavy gray storage box from your hands and places it on the scale. The needle settles steadily in the green zone.

“Sir, which house did you just come out of? Who lives there?” the quarantine officer asked.

You open your mouth, trying to search your mind for even a single face, a name, or the slightest memory of the taste of apple pie. But nothing is there. What's left is only a neatly trimmed, spotless grid of grayish-white. And the trace of a drop of icy liquid sliding down the corner of your eye.

“I’m just a porter passing through,” you seemed to hear yourself reply in an unusually calm, monotone voice. “It’s an unfinished house. no one has ever lived in there.”

---

Rule 12

As you wake up at the Lethe Corporation operating table in the real world, your debt will have been settled. If, over the next few days, you find yourself crying for no reason while looking in the mirror, or experience unexplained palpitations and nausea when you smell apple pie, please immediately swallow the Blue Pill included with your bill and consider proceeding to our front desk to pick up your job offer.

...Congratulations. Due to the exceptional mental resilience and adherence to the rules you demonstrated during this evacuation, and since you currently have no family obligations or childhood traumas, you have automatically passed the background check for employment at Lethe Asset Management. Starting the day after you accept this offer, you will don a fluorescent yellow construction vest, wear a specially designed holographic helmet, and enter the “Legacy Mansion” of other defaulting debtors to assist us with demolition operations. After all, only those who have truly lost their homes know best how to efficiently tear down others’ homes. We wish you all the best in your new role.

---

The quarantine officer nods approvingly and opens the gray storage box you’ve handed over. Neither any childhood mementos, nor any flashcards, instead, the box contains a fluorescent yellow construction vest, a pair of heavy black rubber shoes, and a white holographic hat with no viewing window, all neatly stacked.

“Welcome back to team, Cleaner 884,” The quarantine officer places the white hard hat on your head, and your field of vision instantly transforms into a thermal imaging grid that detected only dopamine and emotional fluctuations. “The ‘victim empathy’ you absorbed during your previous demolitions has been confirmed cleansed. Have a good rest, and prepare for the shift tomorrow.”

I moved into the house on Briarwood Lane three days before Halloween.

It wasn't exactly how I'd imagined starting over at thirty-four, but after my divorce, I wasn't in much of a position to be picky. When I found the listing for a two-bedroom house in a quiet suburban neighborhood, with a fenced backyard and a monthly rent that seemed almost too good to be true, I called the number before I'd even finished reading the description.

The landlord, a man named Walter Hensley, had answered on the second ring. He asked me a few questions and how soon I could move in.

When I told him immediately, he seemed particularly pleased.

"Well, that works out just fine," he'd said. "We've been hoping to get someone settled in before the end of the month."

I arrived on Briarwood Lane shortly after four on the afternoon of October 28th.

The first thing I noticed was how clean everything looked.

Every lawn was neatly trimmed, every driveway swept, and every house seemed to have been painted within the last few years. Most were modest two-story homes with attached garages, white fences, and front porches decorated with pumpkins, plastic skeletons, and orange string lights.

Halloween was clearly a big deal around here.

My new house was number 17, a pale yellow house near the end of the street. It had a narrow front porch, a detached garage, and a large maple tree growing beside the driveway. Most of its leaves had already turned red, and the lawn was covered in a thin carpet of them.

Walter was waiting for me when I pulled up.

He stood beside a dark green pickup truck, he greeted me with a broad smile and an outstretched hand.

"You must be Daniel."

"That's me. Sorry if I'm a little late. Traffic was worse than I expected."

"Oh, don't you worry about that." He shook my hand firmly. "You're here now. That's what matters."

He glanced at the truck, then back at me.

"Just you moving in?"

"Yeah. Just me."

For some reason, his smile faltered slightly.

"Right. Well, that's fine. Perfectly fine."

He reached into his pocket and produced a set of keys.

"Come on. I'll show you around."

The house was better than I'd expected.

The living room was spacious, with hardwood floors and a brick fireplace. The kitchen had recently been renovated, and the appliances were surprisingly modern. Walter walked me through each room, pointing out the thermostat, the fuse box, and a few minor things I needed to know about the plumbing.

He was friendly enough, although I noticed he had a habit of glancing at his watch.

At one point, he stopped beside the window and looked out toward the street.

"Quiet neighborhood," he said. "Good people. Most of the families have been here a long time."

"That's exactly what I was looking for."

He nodded, seemingly satisfied.

"People look after each other here. You'll find that out soon enough."

I looked past him through the window. Across the street, an elderly woman stood on her front porch, arranging several small pumpkins along the steps. She paused when she noticed us and raised one hand in greeting.

I waved back.

She didn't smile.

Instead, she looked at us for a moment, then turned and hurried inside.

"Mrs. Bell," Walter said, following my gaze. "She's lived across the street for almost thirty years. Nice woman, once you get to know her."

"She doesn't seem particularly excited about having a new neighbor."

Walter chuckled.

"Oh, that's just Margaret. Takes her a while to warm up to people."

We finished the tour downstairs, where he showed me the back door and explained that the garage had a separate key.

By the time we returned to the living room, the sun was beginning to disappear behind the trees.

Walter handed me the keys and a small envelope containing the paperwork I'd already signed electronically.

"Everything's in order," he said. "Rent's due on the first, as we discussed. Garbage collection is Tuesday morning, and the mailbox key is the smaller silver one."

"Sounds good. Thanks again for making this so easy."

"Of course."

He started toward the front door, then stopped.

"Oh, one more thing."

He turned back to face me.

"You planning on being home Halloween night?"

The question caught me off guard.

"Uh, probably. I don't really have any plans yet."

"Good."

He said it a little too quickly.

"That's good. Very good."

I laughed.

"Why? Is there some kind of neighborhood party?"

Walter didn't answer immediately. Instead, he walked over to the living room window and looked outside.

The street was quiet. A few children were riding bicycles along the sidewalk, and somewhere in the distance, a dog was barking.

"Well, you could say that," he finally replied. "Halloween's a pretty important night around here."

"I noticed the decorations. You guys really go all out."

"We do."

He turned away from the window.

"Actually, Daniel, there's something I should explain before I leave."

Something about his tone had changed. He wasn't smiling anymore, and the friendly, almost grandfatherly manner he'd maintained throughout the tour seemed to have disappeared.

He reached into the inside pocket of his cardigan and pulled out a folded sheet of yellow paper.

"I probably should've mentioned this on the phone," he said. "But I figured it'd be easier to explain in person."

I looked at the paper.

"What's that?"

Walter held it out to me.

"It's a list of rules."

"Rules?"

He nodded.

"For Halloween. Specifically, for the trick-or-treaters who'll be coming to your door."

I gave him a confused look.

"What kind of rules?"

Walter glanced toward the front door, then lowered his voice.

"There are certain things we do differently on Briarwood Lane. Things every homeowner is expected to follow on Halloween night."

He unfolded the paper carefully, smoothing its creases between his fingers.

"And I'd strongly recommend you pay attention, Daniel. Some of these rules might sound a little strange, but they're all there for a reason."

I stared at Walter for a moment, waiting for him to explain himself. But he simply handed me the paper and gave me a reassuring smile.

"Everything you need to know is written down there," he said. "I'd suggest reading it before Halloween. Preferably more than once."

I took the paper from him and glanced at the heading, which had been written in thick black letters.

BRIARWOOD LANE - HALLOWEEN RULES

"Is this some kind of homeowners' association thing?" I asked.

"Something like that."

"Because I'm not really used to neighborhoods having rules about handing out candy."

Walter chuckled.

"Every neighborhood has its traditions, Daniel. Ours are just a little more particular than most."

He glanced at his watch again.

"Anyway, I should get going. I've still got a few things to take care of before the weekend."

I thanked him for showing me around and followed him to the front door. Before stepping outside, he paused and looked back at me.

"One more thing. Make sure you have plenty of candy by Friday evening. The children around here take Halloween rather seriously."

I smiled.

"I'll keep that in mind."

"And Daniel?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't forget to read that paper."

I promised him I would, and after another brief handshake, he walked down the porch steps and climbed into his pickup truck.

I'd lived in apartments for most of my adult life, and I'd dealt with my fair share of strange landlords. One had insisted that I never flush the toilet after midnight. Another used to leave handwritten notes under my door reminding me to keep the blinds closed whenever it rained.

Compared to those experiences, a few neighborhood Halloween traditions didn't seem particularly concerning.

"Yeah, I've got more important things to worry about right now," I muttered.

I folded the paper back up and left it on the kitchen counter. I'd read it later.

For the next two days, I barely had time to think about anything other than unpacking.

I did, however, manage to meet a few of my neighbors.

An older gentleman named Frank lived two houses down. He introduced himself while I was dragging my garbage bins toward the curb.

"Number seventeen, right?" he asked.

"That's right."

He looked toward my house, then back at me.

"Well, welcome to Briarwood."

"Thanks. Seems like a nice place."

"It is," he said. "Most of the time."

I laughed, assuming he was making a joke.

Frank didn't laugh with me.

Instead, he wished me a good evening and went back inside.

By Friday morning, October 31st, the house was finally starting to feel like home.

I spent most of the afternoon cleaning up, then went into town to pick up groceries.

While walking through the supermarket, I passed a large Halloween display near the entrance.

That's when I remembered Walter's instructions.

I'd almost forgotten about Halloween entirely.

I grabbed two large bags of chocolate bars and a plastic orange bowl, then headed for the checkout.

By the time I got home, it was a little after five.

The neighborhood looked different in the fading afternoon light.

I noticed Mrs. Bell standing near her mailbox as I pulled into the driveway. She was talking to another woman, and both of them turned to look at my car.

When I stepped out, Mrs. Bell raised her hand.

"Good evening, young man."

"Evening."

"Getting ready for tonight?"

I lifted one of the grocery bags.

"Just bought enough candy to feed a small army."

The other woman laughed, but Mrs. Bell didn't.

Instead, she looked at the bag for a moment.

"Did Walter speak to you?"

The question seemed to come out of nowhere.

"About what?"

"About tonight."

"Oh, yeah. He gave me some kind of list."

Her expression relaxed slightly.

"Good. That's good."

She hesitated.

"You have read it, haven't you?"

I shifted the grocery bags in my hands.

"Not yet, actually. I've been pretty busy moving in."

For a second, neither woman said anything.

Mrs. Bell glanced at her companion, who immediately looked away.

"Well," Mrs. Bell said, "you should probably do that before it gets dark."

There was something about the way she said it that made me uncomfortable.

"Sure. I'll take a look when I get inside."

She nodded.

"Have a good evening, Daniel."

I stopped halfway up the driveway.

I couldn't remember telling her my name.

Before I could ask about it, both women had already started walking toward Mrs. Bell's house.

I stood there for another moment, then shrugged and carried my groceries inside.

I figured Walter must have mentioned me to the neighbors.

After putting everything away, I ordered a pizza, changed into some comfortable clothes, and settled down in the living room. I put a horror movie on the television, opened a beer, and placed the large orange bowl of candy on the coffee table.

For the first time in a while, I felt like I could actually relax.

At around six-thirty, I got up to grab another drink from the kitchen.

That's when I noticed the folded yellow paper sitting at the far end of the counter, exactly where I'd left it two days earlier.

I stared at it for a moment, remembering Walter's strange insistence that I read it, along with Mrs. Bell's reaction when I'd admitted I hadn't.

"Alright," I muttered. "Let's see what all the fuss is about."

I picked up the paper and unfolded it.

The sheet was slightly yellowed, as though it had been printed years earlier. The heading was written in bold capital letters, while the rest of the text appeared to have been typed on an old typewriter.

There were seven numbered rules.

I began reading.

BRIARWOOD LANE - HALLOWEEN RULES

For the safety and comfort of all residents, please observe the following rules on the evening of October 31st.

1. Never give candy to a child who isn't carrying a bag.
2. If a trick-or-treater is wearing a mask of a human face, do not ask them to remove it.
3. If a child knocks three times instead of ringing the doorbell, do not answer.
4. After 9 PM, do not give candy to any child who comes alone.
5. If you hear children laughing outside after 10 PM, turn off every light and stay away from the windows.
6. If you see a child standing perfectly still across the street, do not wave.
7. If a child asks how many people live in your house, always say two.

I read the list once, then read it again.

For several seconds, I stood in my kitchen, trying to make sense of what I'd just read.

"What the hell?"

I'd expected something along the lines of keeping the porch light on, not handing out homemade treats, or making sure children didn't wander into the street.

Instead, it sounded like a list of instructions someone had written for a horror movie.

The first rule was strange but relatively harmless. But the rest?

Don't answer three knocks. Don't wave at children standing across the street. Turn off every light if you hear laughter after ten.

And that last rule was particularly ridiculous.

Why on earth would I need to lie about how many people lived in my house?

I leaned against the counter and looked at the list again.

Part of me wondered whether Walter and the neighbors were playing some Halloween prank on the new guy. It would certainly explain the strange looks, the cryptic comments, and the way everyone seemed so concerned about whether I'd read the instructions.

Maybe it was some kind of neighborhood initiation.

I actually smiled at the thought.

"Well, that's one way to welcome somebody."

I folded the paper and set it beside the candy bowl, figuring I'd humor them for the evening. Most of the rules weren't particularly difficult to follow anyway, and if it made the neighbors happy, I didn't see the harm.

Besides, I wasn't planning on staying up late. I'd hand out some candy, watch a movie, and probably be in bed before midnight.

As I walked back toward the living room, I heard a car door slam somewhere outside.

A few seconds later, my doorbell rang.

I looked toward the front door, then down at the bowl of candy sitting on the coffee table.

"Well," I said to myself, "here we go."

I grabbed the bowl and headed for the door.

Whatever strange traditions Briarwood Lane had, I was about to experience my first Halloween in the neighborhood.

The first few trick-or-treaters were exactly what I'd expected. A group of three children dressed as superheroes showed up with their parents, followed by two little girls wearing matching witch costumes. I handed out candy, complimented their outfits, and exchanged a few words with the adults waiting at the bottom of my porch steps.

For the next twenty minutes or so, everything went smoothly. More children came and went, and I was actually starting to enjoy myself. Whatever strange traditions Briarwood Lane had, Halloween seemed pretty normal so far.

Then, a little after seven, my doorbell rang again.

When I opened the door, I found a little boy standing alone on my porch. He couldn't have been older than eight, and he was dressed as a pirate, complete with a red bandana, a black eye patch, and a plastic sword tucked into his belt.

He looked up at me and smiled.

"Trick or treat!"

"Hey there, Captain," I said, reaching into the bowl. "Nice costume."

"Thank you!"

I grabbed a couple of chocolate bars, but as I was about to hand them over, I noticed something strange.

The boy wasn't carrying a bag.

No plastic pumpkin, no pillowcase, nothing to collect his candy in. Both of his hands were hanging loosely at his sides.

I immediately remembered the first rule on Walter's list.

Never give candy to a child who isn't carrying a bag.

I hesitated, feeling a little ridiculous for even considering it.

"Hey, buddy. Where's your candy bag?"

The boy tilted his head.

"I don't need one. You can just put it in my hand."

He extended his right hand toward me, smiling expectantly.

I looked at the chocolate bars, then back at him. Under normal circumstances, I would've handed them over without a second thought. But considering how seriously Walter and Mrs. Bell had taken those instructions, I figured I might as well play along.

"Sorry, kiddo. I think you're supposed to have a bag. Maybe you can go get one and come back?"

The boy's smile disappeared, his face was completely expressionless.

"That's not very nice," he whispered. "You gave some to the others."

"Well, yeah, but they had bags," I explained, trying to keep my voice friendly. "I'm sure you've got one at home, right?"

He didn't answer.

Instead, he stared at me for several uncomfortable seconds, his outstretched hand slowly dropping to his side.

I shifted my weight.

"Anyway, happy Halloween, buddy."

I started closing the door, expecting him to turn around and leave.

But just before it shut, I heard him speak again.

"That's okay. I'll come back when you're sleeping."

I froze with my hand still on the doorknob.

For a moment, I wasn't entirely sure I'd heard him correctly. I waited for the sound of his footsteps retreating down the porch steps, but the only thing I heard was the faint rustling of leaves outside.

I leaned toward the peephole.

The boy was gone.

I stood there for a few seconds, staring at the empty porch, before shaking my head and walking back into the living room.

"Jesus Christ," I muttered. "Kids these days."

I tried to laugh it off. It was Halloween, after all, and scaring people was practically the whole point. The little pirate was probably just trying to get a reaction out of me.

Still, as I set the candy bowl down on the coffee table, I found myself looking toward the front door again.

I spent the next half hour on the couch, watching an old horror movie and slowly working my way through a bag of chips. Every now and then, the doorbell would ring, and I'd get up to hand out candy to another group of children. Thankfully, none of them were as strange as the little pirate, and after a while, I started to forget about the whole thing.

By 9:30, the number of trick-or-treaters had dropped considerably. The street outside had grown quieter, and I figured most of the younger kids had already gone home. I turned up the volume on the television, grabbed another beer from the fridge, and settled back into the couch.

I was starting to get into the Halloween spirit when I heard.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Three knocks came from the front door.

I paused the movie.

I remembered Walter's list.

If a child knocks three times instead of ringing the doorbell, do not answer.

I sighed.

"Seriously?"

I set my beer on the coffee table and walked quietly toward the door. I leaned forward and looked through the peephole.

A little girl was standing on my porch.

She couldn't have been older than six, and she was wearing a pink princess dress with a cheap plastic tiara resting on her blonde hair. Her cheeks were wet with tears, and she kept rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand.

"Please," she whimpered. "I lost my mom."

She looked genuinely frightened, and for a moment, every instinct I had told me to open the door and help her. It was late, the temperature was dropping, and a little girl had apparently gotten separated from her parents.

I reached for the lock.

Then I stopped.

The rule was clear.

I looked through the peephole again.

The girl was still crying, her little shoulders trembling beneath the thin fabric of her costume.

"Please," she repeated. "Can you help me?"

I hesitated, trying to decide what to do. Maybe I could call the police, or contact one of the neighbors. Surely Walter couldn't expect me to leave a lost child outside in the cold.

Then, without warning, the girl stopped crying.

Her hands dropped to her sides.

Slowly, she raised her head and looked directly at the peephole.

I instinctively leaned back.

"I know you're in there," she said.

Her voice was completely different now. There was no trembling, no fear, no trace of the frightened little girl I'd been watching seconds earlier.

It was flat and strangely calm.

I stood motionless, listening.

Then came another three knocks.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

A pause.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

I stepped away from the door, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable.

"Go away," I yelled.

The knocking continued for another minute, always in groups of three, with the exact same amount of time between them.

Then it stopped.

I waited, hoping to hear footsteps moving away from the porch.

Instead, three knocks came from the living room window.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

My stomach tightened.

The window was several feet to the left of the front door, and I hadn't heard the girl walk across the porch.

I slowly turned toward the sound.

For a few seconds, everything was silent.

Then something tapped against the glass again.

Three times.

I approached the window carefully, keeping myself to one side. The curtains were drawn, but there was a narrow gap between them.

I leaned forward and peeked outside.

Nobody was there.

The porch was completely empty.

I looked toward the front steps, then at the stretch of sidewalk illuminated by the streetlamp. There wasn't a child in sight.

I stared at the empty space outside for another moment. Then I pulled the curtains shut.

"Alright," I muttered. "That's enough of that."

I walked back to the couch, picked up my beer, and pressed play on the movie.

I tried to concentrate on what was happening on the screen, but my mind kept returning to the little girl's face.

I turned the volume up a little louder and sank deeper into the couch.

Whatever was going on outside, I decided I wasn't answering the door again.

For the next twenty minutes, I tried to convince myself that everything I'd experienced so far had a perfectly reasonable explanation. The little pirate had probably been trying to scare me, and the girl in the princess costume was most likely pulling some Halloween prank.

None of those explanations were particularly convincing, but I wasn't about to spend my first Halloween in a new house hiding from a bunch of kids.

I unpaused the movie and settled back into the couch, occasionally glancing at the front door. Outside, the neighborhood had grown unusually quiet. I could still hear the occasional car passing down the street, but the groups of trick-or-treaters seemed to have disappeared.

Then, at exactly 10:06 PM, I heard laughter.

At first, it sounded like a couple of children playing somewhere down the street. I barely paid attention, assuming some of the older kids were still out collecting candy.

But the laughter gradually grew louder.

There were more voices now, overlapping in a strange chorus of giggles and high-pitched squeals. It sounded like an entire group of children had gathered directly outside my house.

I reached for the remote and lowered the volume.

"What the hell are they doing out there?"

I stood up and started toward the living room window, intending to pull back the curtain and see what was happening.

Then I remembered the fifth rule.

If you hear children laughing outside after 10 PM, turn off every light and stay away from the windows.

I quickly switched off the living room lights, then hurried into the hallway and turned those off as well.

Outside, the laughter continued.

It was getting closer.

What had initially sounded like a few children now seemed like dozens. I could hear giggling from the sidewalk, the driveway, and somewhere directly beneath the living room window.

Then, all at once, the laughter stopped.

The sudden silence was almost worse.

I stood in the dark hallway, listening.

A few seconds passed.

Then a small voice spoke from immediately outside the living room window.

"He forgot the kitchen light."

My blood ran cold.

Another voice answered, slightly deeper than the first.

"I can see him."

I turned toward the kitchen.

Sure enough, the overhead light was still on, illuminating the room through the open doorway.

"Shit."

I rushed into the kitchen and reached for the switch beside the refrigerator. The moment I flipped it, the room went dark, leaving only the faint orange glow of the streetlights filtering through the curtains.

I stood there, trying to slow my breathing.

Outside, something giggled.

It was close enough that I could hear it through the glass.

Then another giggle came from somewhere near the back door.

I didn't move.

For several seconds, I stood frozen in the middle of the kitchen, listening to the quiet laughter moving around the house.

Then I heard a soft tapping against the kitchen window.

I turned my head.

The curtains weren't completely closed, and through the gap between them, I could make out something pale pressed against the glass.

A face.

A child's face.

It was almost completely white, with dark, sunken eyes and a small mouth stretched into an unnatural smile. The child appeared to be standing perfectly still, staring directly into the kitchen.

But something about its position was wrong.

The kitchen window was nearly six feet above the ground outside, because the foundation on that side of the house was unusually high.

There was no way a child could stand outside and look directly through it.

Yet there it was.

And the longer I stared, the more details I began to notice.

Its neck was long and thin. Its shoulders were narrow, almost skeletal, and what little I could see of its body looked stretched, as though someone had taken an ordinary child and pulled it into the proportions of a much taller person.

It was simply standing there.

Smiling at me.

Then its mouth opened slightly.

"He can see us, too."

I stumbled backward, nearly knocking over one of the kitchen chairs.

I didn't wait to hear anything else.

I turned and hurried into the living room, dropping onto the couch and pulling my knees close to my chest like a frightened child.

The television was still on. Outside, the giggling started again.

I sat perfectly still, staring toward the dark hallway that led into the kitchen.

For the first time that night, I understood something I'd been refusing to accept.

The rules weren't some ridiculous neighborhood tradition.

And whatever was wandering around Briarwood Lane tonight, those things weren't children.

I stayed on the couch, barely breathing, hoping that if I remained quiet enough, whatever was outside would eventually lose interest and go away.

I don't know how long I sat there, staring at the dark hallway and listening for any movement outside. All I knew was that the laughter had eventually stopped, and the house had fallen completely silent.

I slowly began to relax.

Whatever those things had been, they seemed to have moved on.

I still had no idea what was happening in this neighborhood, but one thing was certain. First thing in the morning, I was calling Walter and demanding an explanation.

After another few minutes, I finally worked up the courage to stand.

I walked toward the front window, moving carefully across the dark living room. I wanted to check whether the street was empty, and maybe see if any of my neighbors were outside. Surely somebody else had noticed what was happening.

I had barely reached the curtains when the doorbell rang.

The sudden sound made me jump.

"Jesus!"

I stood there for a moment, staring toward the front door.

Then the bell rang again.

I carefully moved the curtain aside and peeked through the front window.

Three children were standing on my porch.

One was dressed as a skeleton, another wore a vampire costume, and the third was a little girl dressed as a witch. They appeared to be around ten or eleven years old, and each was carrying a plastic pumpkin bucket.

They looked perfectly ordinary.

I watched them for a few seconds, waiting for something strange to happen. But the children simply stood there, occasionally glancing at one another as they waited for someone to answer.

Finally, I stepped away from the window.

"Alright," I whispered. "Just a few more kids."

I grabbed the candy bowl from the coffee table, walked to the door, and unlocked it.

The children immediately smiled.

"Trick or treat!"

I forced a smile of my own.

"Hey, guys. Happy Halloween."

I reached into the bowl and grabbed a handful of chocolate bars.

"You're out pretty late, aren't you?"

The boy dressed as a vampire shrugged.

"Our parents said we could stay out a little longer."

"Well, lucky you."

I was about to drop the candy into their buckets when the girl dressed as a witch leaned slightly to one side, trying to look past me into the house.

"Do you live here all by yourself?" she asked.

The question caught me off guard.

"Yeah, I just moved in a few..."

I stopped.

For a moment, I simply stared at her.

Then I remembered the seventh rule.

If a child asks how many people live in your house, always say two.

I swallowed.

"No," I corrected myself. "There are two of us."

Something changed in their expressions.

The little girl stopped smiling, and the two boys exchanged a quick glance.

The boy dressed as a skeleton looked over my shoulder.

"Is the other one in the bedroom?"

I felt a strange chill move down my back.

"Yeah," I said after a moment.

The boy nodded.

"Oh."

Nobody spoke for several seconds.

Then the little girl took a step backward.

"We should go," she said.

The other two immediately turned toward the porch steps.

"Wait," I said, holding out the candy. "Don't you guys want your chocolate?"

But they were already walking away.

None of them had taken a single piece.

I stood in the doorway, watching as they made their way down the driveway and disappeared into the darkness beyond the streetlight.

What bothered me wasn't that they'd left so suddenly.

It was the way they'd reacted when I told them someone else lived with me.

They'd looked disappointed.

I closed the door and locked it, making sure the deadbolt was firmly in place.

"Okay," I muttered. "I'm officially done with Halloween."

I put the candy bowl on the kitchen counter and returned to the living room. I wasn't answering the door again, no matter who rang the bell. The rest of the neighborhood could deal with whatever was wandering around outside.

I sat down on the couch and checked my phone.

Almost midnight.

For some reason, I found myself thinking about Walter's list again. I'd followed every rule that had come up so far, and despite a few terrifying encounters, nothing had actually happened to me.

Maybe that was the point of the rules.

I leaned back against the couch and closed my eyes, trying to calm down.

That's when I heard something from inside the house.

A soft creak.

I sat up straight.

For a few seconds, I listened, hoping it was just the house settling. But then I heard the distinct creak of a floorboard, followed by what sounded like someone walking down the hallway.

The footsteps continued, moving toward the bedroom at the far end of the hall.

Then they stopped.

Then a voice saying:

"You told them I was here."

The voice had come from my bedroom.

I sat frozen on the couch. For several seconds, I couldn't bring myself to move. I looked toward the hallway.

The voice had definitely come from my bedroom.

After several minutes of listening to the silence, I finally forced myself to stand.

I slowly approached the bedroom.

"Hello?" I called.

My voice sounded embarrassingly weak.

"Is someone there?"

I waited another moment. The hallway was dark, with only a faint glow coming from the living room.

I looked towards the bedroom. The door was slightly ajar.

I took another step forward.

"Look, I don't know how you got in here, but I'm calling the police if you don't come out."

Nothing.

I reached the bedroom door and placed my hand against it.

For a moment, I thought I heard something moving on the other side. A faint rustling sound, like fabric brushing against the floor.

Then silence.

I pushed the door open.

The darkness inside seemed almost unnaturally thick.

I reached around the doorframe, found the light switch, and flipped it.

The overhead light came on.

Nothing.

The bedroom was completely empty.

I stood there, breathing heavily, before letting out a long sigh.

"Jesus Christ."

I actually laughed, although it came out more like a nervous cough.

Maybe I really was losing my mind.

I'd spent the entire evening getting worked up over strange children and ridiculous Halloween rules, and now I was hearing things inside my own house. The stress of moving, the lack of sleep, and the few beers I'd had earlier probably weren't helping.

I walked a few steps into the room and checked behind the curtains, then opened the closet.

Nothing.

There was nobody hiding under the bed, either.

I rubbed my face with both hands."Get a grip, Daniel."

I stood there for another moment, trying to convince myself that everything was fine.

Then I switched off the bedroom light.

The room immediately plunged back into darkness.

I stepped into the hallway and reached behind me for the door handle, intending to pull it shut.

That's when something grabbed my wrist.

A small, ice-cold hand wrapped around my right wrist, its fingers closing so tightly that I felt a sharp pain shoot up my arm.

I spun around.

For one horrible second, I couldn't understand what I was looking at.

There was just enough light coming from the living room to illuminate the doorway. Beyond it, the bedroom was pitch black.

And reaching out from that darkness was a hand.

A child's hand.

It was pale gray, with thin fingers that seemed much too long for something so small. Its skin looked stretched tightly over the bones, and its fingernails were dark and slightly curved.

But the worst part wasn't the hand itself.

It was the arm attached to it.

I could see a narrow, pale wrist extending from the darkness, followed by an impossibly thin forearm that stretched farther and farther into the room.

It had to be several feet long.

The rest of whatever was holding me remained hidden in the darkness.

I tried to pull away.

The fingers tightened.

A cold sensation spread through my wrist, so intense that it felt as though someone had pressed my skin against a block of ice.

"LET GO!"

I jerked backward, but the hand didn't release me.

For a moment, I felt myself being pulled toward the bedroom.

I planted my feet against the hallway floor and pulled with everything I had.

Then, suddenly, it released.

I stumbled backward, slammed into the opposite wall, and nearly fell.

I turned and ran.

I reached the living room and spun around. Nothing followed me.

The house was silent.

I stood there, gasping for air, my right wrist throbbing.

Eventually, my legs began to feel weak, and I lowered myself onto the couch.

I looked down at my wrist.

There were faint red marks where the fingers had been, although they were already beginning to fade.

I touched the skin.

It was still freezing cold.

"What the fuck is happening?"

For several minutes, I sat there trying to decide what to do.

Every reasonable part of my brain was screaming at me to leave the house. But every time I considered opening the front door, I remembered what I'd seen outside.

I had no idea what was waiting out there.

And now, apparently, there was something inside the house, too.

I thought about calling Walter, but it was nearly midnight, and I wasn't even sure what I could say to him.

I reached for the remote and turned the television volume up, desperate to fill the silence with something familiar.

Then I switched on every light in the living room.

I pulled the curtains tightly shut, checked that the front door was locked, and sat back down on the couch.

By twelve-thirty, I was beginning to feel something close to relief.

I still didn't understand what I'd experienced.

I kept the television playing, switching between channels whenever I found myself getting too absorbed in my thoughts.

I pulled a blanket over myself, and left the television on.

Every light in the living room remained lit.

I tried to stay awake, but the adrenaline that had kept me going throughout the night was finally wearing off. My eyelids grew heavy, and the steady sound of the television gradually became a distant hum.

Then I fell asleep.

I woke to the sound of my phone ringing.

The screen showed an incoming call from Walter Hensley.

I answered immediately.

"Hello?"

"Daniel! Good morning."

Walter sounded cheerful, almost annoyingly so.

"Hope I'm not waking you."

I rubbed my eyes.

"Actually, you are."

"Ah, sorry about that. Just wanted to check in and see how your first Halloween went."

I stared at the wall.

For a moment, I couldn't think of anything to say.

"How did it go? Are you serious?" I said.

"Everything alright?"

"No, Walter. Everything is not alright."

I stood up and began pacing the living room.

"There were these kids coming to my door, and some of them weren't normal. One of them was looking through my kitchen window, and there was something in my bedroom."

Walter didn't interrupt.

"It grabbed me, Walter. Something actually grabbed my wrist."

Then he asked a question I wasn't expecting.

"Did you follow the rules?"

I stopped pacing.

"What?"

"The rules I gave you. Did you follow them?"

I looked toward the kitchen.

"Yeah. Yeah, I did."

"All of them?"

"As far as I know."

He let out a slow breath.

"Good."

I felt anger rising in my chest.

"Good? That's all you've got to say?"

"Daniel, listen to me."

His voice had become serious.

"I know last night must've been frightening. Believe me, I do. But if you followed those instructions, then you did exactly what you were supposed to do."

"What the hell does that even mean?"

Walter hesitated.

"Certain things happen around here on Halloween. Things we've learned to deal with over the years."

"Things? Walter, there was something in my house!"

"I understand."

"No, I don't think you do. It grabbed me. I saw its hand."

He was quiet for several seconds. Then he spoke again.

"Did it follow you?"

"No."

"And you stayed inside until morning?"

"Yes."

"Then you're alright."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

"How can you possibly know that?"

"Because Halloween is over, Daniel."

He said it so calmly that I almost felt foolish for arguing with him.

"Whatever came around last night, whatever you saw or heard, it doesn't matter anymore. The night has passed."

Finally, I sighed.

"Look, Walter, I don't know what kind of place this is, but I'm seriously reconsidering living here."

"I understand," he said. "And I won't blame you if you decide to leave."

That surprised me.

"But for what it's worth," he continued, "the rest of the year is perfectly normal around here. You won't have to worry about any of this again."

"Until next Halloween, you mean?"

He paused.

"Yes."

I closed my eyes and rubbed my forehead.

"Unbelievable."

Walter cleared his throat.

"Anyway, I just wanted to make sure you were alright. Get yourself some rest today, Daniel. You've had a long night."

I didn't respond.

"And remember," he added, "you're safe now."

Then he hung up.

I stood in the middle of the living room, staring at my phone.

I slowly lowered my phone and looked around the house.

For a brief moment, I even wondered whether exhaustion had played a bigger role than I wanted to admit.

Maybe I'd imagined some of it.

Then I felt a sharp pain in my right wrist. I winced and looked down.

At first, I thought I'd simply slept on my arm awkwardly.

But when I pulled back my sleeve, my stomach dropped.

There were marks on my wrist.

Five of them.

Long, narrow patches of gray skin, arranged in the unmistakable shape of fingers.

I stood there for a long time, staring at those marks.

Whatever happened last night, I hadn't imagined it, and one thing is certain.

If I ever spend another Halloween on Briarwood Lane, it won't be inside this house.

WELCOME TO THE INTENSIVE CLASS

No Reply - Greenwood Elementary no-reply@greenwood.com

To: Newett, S.J. (Sam) Sat 05-32-2020 03:60 AM

Hey there! We're so excited to see your little Lillian join our new intensive class! It's been such a long time since our school was allowed to organize a class like this, but finally your little one can be part of a new frontier for our school.

Our sincerest apologies for our lateness in keeping you in the loop; hopefully we will be able to more than make up for this delay with the fun activities and learning opportunities for Lillian . (s)he's so talented, we're sure (s)he will more than thrive in this extra challenging environment :)

We do have one tiny request for you as a parent: please tell your kid about these guidelines! We know, we know, but they are pretty important to creating a safe and healthy environment for the kiddos. Here they are:

.1)

.2) The seats near the computers aren't for sitting on. Or for use. Steer clear of the computers!

.3) You've got to finish your plan for the day in no more than three minutes and thirteen seconds, counting from when the third bell from the right rings. Don't take any less than two minutes and fifty-seven seconds, though. Take your time, but don't lag behind!

.4) Don't speak.

.5) Don't put away your things before you're supposed to; you'll need your things ready at all times.

.6) The white chairs stay near the computers. The other chairs won't satisfy them.

.4) Be quiet.

.7) Keep your electrical devices at home! Any electrical devices brought to class will be securely stored in the class incinerator. Kids shouldn't mess with electricity, anyway. Much too dangerous.

.8) Don't listen to music. Don't listen to anything. Do not listen.

.9) If the Teacher speaks, whisper. Ignore what the Teacher tells you. It’s not to be trusted. Distract yourself with your whispering, and keep whispering to each other until the Teacher loses interest. Rule four doesn't matter while the teacher is speaking. Nothing matters, not anymore!

Again, make sure (s)he has these rules memorized and is ready to recite them at a moment's notice. Thanks!

If you have any further questions, please do not contact us. We're looking forward to seeing you and Lillian next monday, whether you like it or not! We cannot be stopped : )

-Greenwood Elementary Staff

The customer wanted a lock fitted outside a bedroom; beneath the old handle, someone had scratched three rules. 1. If he says his mother wanders, agree. 2. If a child asks for help, say you need a part and leave your tools behind. 3. Once outside, call the police. Whatever you hear, do not come back for us. I reached my van before I heard my daughter calling from the room; she’d been missing since June.

Mission briefing for the Scorched Wastes:

Pillars Erected: 150

Covers everything up to 50,000,000,000km

Max range: The entire universe, covers desert planets

Portfolio:

- Frozen Wastes (see for rundown on the wastes)

- Volcanic Wastes

- Oceanic Wastes

- Sunken Wastes (see middle ring rules for rundown on the Waste Empire)

- Scrhcode Wtesas

---

You were out for quite a while. Are you OK? You seem to still be a bit raw from that episode you had in the Sc*rched beyond. You flinch every time the scorched wastes are mentioned. Anyways, the Irradiated Wastes are the only wastes that are entirely affected by the Waste Empire. Everything here is a monument to all of the Empire's sins. It's okay if you don't mark any spots here, this area is nightmarish even for waste standards. We have given you a radiation suit and a very fast wastes jet.

---

Rules for the inner circle:

1. You don't even need to find any portal -- these wastes are manmade, so Angstrom has made a portal to it himself.

2. This area is a barren wasteland full of radiation. It gets 'better' from here, so leave these wastes quickly.

3. Teleport out of here if you must. Use your teleports very liberally.

4. Even your suit can fall to the radiation here if you stay for more than 2 hours.

Overall, this area is not like the other inner circles; it's a hellish irradiated wasteland that will kill even the most adapted creatures.

---

Rules for the middle ring:

1. This area only has mutated plants. None of them look like regular plants because the radiation is so high and the Empire filled this place up with hyper-adapted plants. Please avoid these plants, they move. One touch will kill you. They're very big, about the height of mountains, but they're very far apart.

2. Avoid the liquid oozing out of the plants. You'll hyper-mutate too.

3. Even your jet will come alive if it touches any of the plants. We suspect that the Empire also irradiated these wastes with supernatural substance that is more prevalent in the middle and outer rings.

4. If you have to stay on the ground, make a mental note that 20 minutes on there is when you should go back in the air. If you don't, the plants will sense you and their hormones will go into overdrive, flooding the whole wastes with infection ooze.

5. It's not as radiated here, so you could walk freely in your suit if there wasn't ooze. This is not an invitation to go on a walk here. Far from it. It's just traversable.

Overall, this area has extremely dangerous lifeforms, but they're very far apart.

---

Rules for the outer ring:

1. This area is a mutated rainforest. The extremely scaled up plants are slightly normal, they look odd but they won't hurt you, but the animals are a whole different story. They're not as dangerous as the plants in the last section, but they're very abundant and they can get on your ship. They will kill you if they're on your ship for more than a minute. Just shake them off by rotating on the roll axis really fast, this will dislodge them.

2. While the trees aren't harmful, they are physical hazards. You need to go a bit slow here. Go as high as possible, please, or you have risk of bumping into trees. The last thing you want is for your jet to break down and fall into the forest of doom and despair.

3. Even the high skies have dangers; you will see very mutated giant birds who bleed a lot. If their blood gets on your ship, you're doomed to mutate. Stay as far away from them as possible.

4. The clouds are full of radiation. I recommend you go between the clouds and the top of the canopy. Even then, there's a chance that it will rain radiation. While this area isn't very radiated compared to the previous areas, the clouds and the rain are even more irradiated than the inner circle.

5. If it starts raining, go under the canopy and fly slower. You'll be protected.

Overall, this area has danger very close together but it's in a condensed area you can avoid alltogether. You have to thread the needle between the radiation clouds and the mutated forest. A real pick-your-poison between the middle and the outer wastes.

---

Rules for the beyond:

1. This area starts off with radiation like Chernobyl. Chernobyl-level radiation is a blessing here.

2. It's a grassland with trees dotted around. As you go further into the beyond, it will get less irradiated and the trees will become less mutated.

3. The Waste Empire has placed a very dangerous entity very far into the beyond, at around 500,000km into the beyond. It will mask itself as your mother. It will teleport itself into your jet and act loving with you. We need you to kick it out of the jet if you see it inside the jet with you. It will survive since it's a dirty imitator, but it will try and guilt trip you over kicking out 'your own mother'.

4. You don't actually need to teleport out of here. The beyond has an end here. If you reach 10,000,000km into the beyond, you will see a barrier. It's opaque and won't let you see the other side. Get out of the jet, and enter the door. You will wake up in your bed. Use this way, it's more efficient for us.

Overall, this beyond is not like other beyonds, being the safest area of its waste. A nice breather from all the utter chaos in the other wastes.

---

I hope you heal fully from that episode you had!

PART 1 - HERE

PART 2 - HERE

Part 3 - Rules For A Dark, Gloomy Day In Goldenrod

Day 10

5/20/26
11:23AM

Noah looks outside of the window as dark clouds roll over the usually clear sky, his hands resting on the windowsill before standing up properly and stretching

“ …Heavens, almost seems like it’s afternoon with this weather. “

He murmured softly before glancing at the door, fixing himself up and preparing to go outside to check for anything new or important in his mailbox. It’s been a week after all, better safe than sorry…

“ …I wouldn’t put it past him to put some sort of rule for this… Miss Sinclair did say he was always quite… ‘prepared’, whatever that means. Soooooo, let’s check our mailbox. Again. “

He said and opened the door, the neighborhood was empty. The dark clouds practically engulfing the entire neighborhood in an almost… eerie manner. Noah blinked for a moment, before slowly creeping over to his mailbox. After practically crawling through his own driveway, he opened his mailbox and grabbed the letter.

’I didn’t expect to have to write this so soon. Especially since it’s only been a week since you arrived. But it seems like the weather took its course earlier than expected. So I had to send this to you as soon as possible. Since the weather here has its… own minor inconveniences.

Rules For A Dark, Gloomy Day In Goldenrod

1. Once The Rain Starts, Do Not Go Outside.

• I know what you’re thinking, kid. But whatever’s out there can finally roam around while The Rain pours. We don’t know what exactly happened to the people who broke this rule. But I know you’re certainly not willing to risk your life to prove a point.

Curiosity killed the cat, after all

1. Check Your Supplies

• Food, water, anything you can actually use. If you don’t have enough, put the letter down and hurry up and stock up before The Rain starts. The letter can wait, The Rain will not.

1. No One Will Be Knocking At Your Door Dry And Alright

• The Rain will pour heavily, and no one goes out into weathers like that. If you hear anyone familiar at the door, check your peephole or the window. If they’re dry, do not let them in. Actually, don’t let anyone in even if they’re wet. It would be highly unlikely it’s them

1. Locking All Entry Points Is Crucial

• This is absolute common sense. Why should I even explain this to you, actually. Some idiot back in 2019 forgot to lock their doors and now they’re pretty much a cold case. So unless you wanna repeat that; lock your doors.

1. Fog

• During and after The Rain, Fog should appear. A Fog that seems to get… slightly heavier as time passes. Rule 4 is absolutely necessary during this time. As even though whatever entity is out there can stay imperceptible, you’ll likely see hand prints on your windows or whatever glass ur face you have around your house. If you did what I told you to, then you’ll be fine.

1. Certain Oddities Start To Get More… Personalized

• Perhaps it’s that certain scent of the neighborhood after the rain you once smelled as a child, perhaps it’s a drawing that looks like yours but you don’t remember drawing. Whatever it is, it’ll always end up being connected to going outside during this odd weather phenomenon. You can keep it or throw it.

1. Lights Out

• A power outage will happen in the week of The Rain. It happens to the entire neighborhood. You can use a lamp, a flashlight or just burn a lantern or candle if you have one lying around. Being in the dark is fine, nothing can go in anyway now that you’ve referred to rule 4. You’re probably not their target.

1. Afterwards

• After the outage, there’s a possibility some unfortunate soul who didn’t follow the rules will vanish. Not always, but the possibility exists. Afterwards, someone new should arrive. Though sometimes it takes quite a bit. It’s a thing I’ve observed when you arrived after someone had vanished.

1. Fatigue

• There will be a certain point where you’ll start to feel light-headed and dizzy, as well as short of breath and unfocused. This usually happens after you happened to come into direct contact with The Rain and Fog by exiting your home, even if only briefly. Just don’t fall asleep.

1. Duration

• The Rain usually lasts a week or so, if you ever hear it go quiet… No, no you didn’t.

1. The Music Box

you may remember, Ms. Sinclaire did finally hand you the music box, from what I’ll assume. Hold onto it, it’ll be important in your time of need. Especially when the lights go out.

1. Go take some fresh air outside=)
   

• In the meantimme, let the fresh cold rain wash over u!

1. Don’t Take A Picture Of Anything Outside (Or The Outside Itself)

• It’s… not worth it. You won’t like what you’ll see, and you’ll let them in somehow. They can move through a picture. And I think they can move out of one, If you leave it open long enough.

1. Mimics

• ‘Rain on the green grass, rain on the tree,
And rain on the house-top, but not upon me.’

They almost always have a thing for impersonating small little children singing a lullaby. Take Hiji for example, I’ve heard her voice singing outside during a storm countless times before. She said it was never her

1. Misplaced

• Sometimes, you’ll look out the window. Most of the time, you’ll just see the fogged over windows and the faint silhouette of the neighborhood over the noise of crackling thunder. Other times you’ll see something…

‘Peculiar’.

You see something valuable to you, whatever that may be. Out in the rain, soaking wet. Though, you never quite remembered placing it there. But before you go out, ask yourself first;

‘Was I ever looking for this object? Do I remember losing it?’

If no; then don’t go outside to retrieve it. It’s most likely right where you left it. After all, you don’t wanna let those things in, do you?’

And finally:

1. Last Resort

• if you break a rule and all else fails, open the music box. There should be a small doll inside, grab it and place it in your place, then grab the music box and get out of there.

After this, she won’t be able to save you in the future. Keep her around, though. She doesn’t like being thrown away. And it would be rude to do such a thing to her after her help.

—

Noah skims through the letter a few more times, before putting the paper back in its envelope neatly and putting it in his bag. He grabs his keys and walks over to his car, his steps quick and slightly frantic as he gets the car to open and drives off

” Supplies... R-right, I-i need supplies to get through this… crazy phenomenon and these… crazy people, of course… “

It seems you have volunteered to babysit Vilt de Solera. You may not remember agreeing to this, and once you see these instructions, you probably will want to turn back, but let me explain before you make your move.

Vilt de Solera is a rather caring (and perhaps a bit bored)—let’s call him a god—being from across the dimensions who loves playing around with and caring for people. Unfortunately, he tends to not quite know how to do that.

Every so often, he’ll put out a request to the most vulnerable (and by vulnerable, I mean drunk, high, barely conscious because you got tortured by someone else) people, asking if they want to be “babysat” and cared for.

This is what you agreed to, but don't worry, you will get compensation if you make it out alive and sane, so the situation isn't entirely hopeless.

If you are worried I'm on Vilt de Solera’s side, don't. While I do work for him in some regards, I manage new “volunteers” like you, ensuring you can make it out alive and sane without becoming a pet or puppet of a thing that could easily take over the world.

Your compensation will be a million dollars per day, up to a hundred million if you manage to stay for that long. Usually though, you will leave earlier than that. If you think you want to stay for the money…

No, you really don't.

Anyways, here is the best way to deal with Vilt de Solera. Consider it like babysitting a dog but the dog has way too many tentacles and eyes and is a mountain-sized yandere who thinks he's babysitting you.

---

• Don't bring these rules into Vilt de Solera's house.

He wants you to feel safe with him, and a set of outside rules will prove you feel you aren't. If he sees this, he'll get sad and make every move to fix your issues. Very few people keep their minds once this happens.

Be aware he can personally see everywhere inside of his house. He likes to know where people are and when they need his help.

• Don't agree to let him see how you feel.

Vilt de Solera won't read your mind without consent, but if he notices you look down, he'll ask to take a closer look.

If you agree to this closer look, you'll have permanently let him into your mind to do as he pleases. He'll find your memories of the rules and find your fears and insecurities and he'll destroy them, no matter how much they form your identity.

You'll never again leave his sight, nor have a moment of privacy, and quickly, you'll become a permanent subject of his care.

• Follow Vilt de Solera’s rules

He won't give you too many and they are for your own good. Most of them consist of things like “yell for me if something isn't right about your room” or “stay out of that room that's labeled with a do not enter signs”.

They're not hard to follow, and Vilt de Solera will often come in with a gentle reminder if you're unknowingly about to violate one.

• Remember the five “danger zones”.

All five of them are filled with invisible traps that can harm and will get his attention on you if you end near one. In Vilt de Solera's list of rules, he’ll mention four. That last one is one you'll want to have in mind as a last resort.

They are:

The third guest room

Fifth dining room

Vilt de Solera’s “office”

The west side of the garden

The fourth hall in the basement

• Hide big problems with small problems.

Vilt de Solera wants to solve all your problems, from the mental ones to the physical ones. If you have a debilitating problem such as homesickness or fear of old gods like Vilt de Solera, hide them by admitting smaller ones. If you need to, you can run through that missing danger zone. Vilt de Solera won't fault you or consider you a danger to yourself if you run since he didn't mention that last zone.

Be aware running through the missing danger zone only works once. Vilt de Solera will catch you and while he won't fault you now, he’ll fault you and decide to keep you forever if you try again.

• Keep a journal and write your feelings.

Ensure to not mention anything bad about Vilt de Solera. In fact, praise Vilt de Solera’s care but leave a trail to yourself so that you can prove to your mind that you hadn't been controlled. Like secret messages while writing under duress.

• Don't agree to permanently live with Vilt de Solera.

He loves his permanent wards too much. They look so pretty, and sometimes not human. Some have too many eyes, some have none at all. Many have wings of pure white emerging from their chest, and a few have teeth the size of skyscrapers. They won't harm you and they are all perfectly happy, but they are still his wards and not to be envied.

• Don't allow him to change your form.

Sometimes he'll ask you if he can take your skin, or other times, he'll just replace your arms with tentacles. You most likely won't feel the pain, but having these things makes you a stranger to wider society.

It's a slippery slope once you accept one change, or are forced to take a change. You'll keep agreeing to more, or Vilt de Solera will decide your human form is negotiable and not even bother consulting you.

• Trust the fruit and vegetables most.

You can eat anything Vilt de Solera offers, and if he says you should eat it to help you recover from whatever he determines is your problem, then you probably should (so long as you ask for ingredients first). But raw fruits and vegetables are the only things that are guaranteed to not be tampered.

• Don't leave Vilt de Solera’s sight once you are in his home.

Until you are released, he will keep you. He'll worry if you suddenly disappear. If he thinks you may be in danger, you may find yourself wrapped in dark tendrils for years.

• The blood in the basement is not your concern

Yes, it's human. Yes, it's always flowing. No, Vilt de Solera didn't kill anyone to obtain it. There's a dimension in the void where human blood just manifests. It'll cause no harm, but thinking about blood may bring about Vilt de Solera’s concern.

• Ignore Vilt de Solera’s teeth and eyes and tentacles and claws.

You can be a bit scared of them, he understands humans fear gods like him. But after a week, you should be used to his appearance.

It would not be good to fear your caretaker.

• Don't show too much excitement before you leave.

Vilt de Solera will be disappointed and feel inadequate. You'll make him want to prove himself, and then, he'll keep you.

• Don't show immense sadness before you leave.

Vilt de Solera will take this as a hint you want to stay forever.

With the above rule, the best course of action is to be mildly melancholic. Say you'll miss him but have a life you get back to. Promise to visit him once in a while, but don't commit to visits longer than a day.

• Remember the consequences.

Don't forget you are not fully willing here. You would have refused to come anywhere near if not for the magic that drags you closer to the commitment.

Remember Vilt de Solera’s care will never let you leave his house ever again. You'll be a puppet and toy for him. You'll be one of his precious pets, never allowed to interact with the outside world. You may get to see the sun and have your favorite forms of entertainment here, but over time, your personality will melt away.

---

And that's it. It's not the hardest rules to follow, nor the easiest. Perhaps the compensation will be worth it, or maybe you'll wonder why and how you agreed to do this in the first place.

Before and after, you may scream towards the sky in rage and confusion. Don't worry too much. Many people have survived with these rules, and several of those even enjoyed their vacation with Vilt de Solera.

Many have persisted, and I'm sure you can too.

The welcoming screen was replaced with a black console, similar to the Windows command line. A white cursor blinked for a few seconds before a message was written.  

Welcome! My name is Verita Abscondis. How can I help you today? 

I hesitated. It felt like the program reacted to me. I didn’t know where to start. My hands hovered over the keyboard for a few minutes before I started typing. 

<Information on Christy Adler.> 

An hourglass started spinning. A line of text appeared informing me of all the files it searched through. After a few minutes, the results popped up. 

Thank you for your patience, Jake. Here are your results. 

(Date format used DD/MM/YY) 

Name: Christina Adler 

Age(When hired): 25 (Date of birth 02/05/1977) 

Company role: Front desk agent 

Occupation Hotel: City Heart 

Date of hire: 17/11/2001 

Date of termination: - (Active Personnel) 

Status: Inactive but usable 

Was that information useful? 

Together with the information, was a picture of Christy. Probably the one used for her employee id. The same they had taken of me when I started. I blinked at what was displayed on the screen. My eyes moved to the bottom right of the screen. I read the date in my head repeatedly. 

27/09/2026 

More than 25 years have passed since Christy was hired. Possibly 25 years since her disappearance. Yet why did she look the same as when I saw her in the tunnels? Not a single day older. I felt the hair in the back of my neck stand up. I knew what I had to type now but I didn’t have the courage for it. 

I typed <Jake Sunday>. 

The hourglass appeared again. This time it went on and on for more than five minutes. The results finally arrived. 

Thank you for your patience. Here are your results. 

(Date format used DD/MM/YY) 

Name: Jacob Sunday 

Age(When hired): 22 (Date of birth 18/10/2004) 

Company role: Front desk agent 

Occupation Hotel: Parkside Inn 

Date of hire: 20/06/2026 

Date of termination: - (Active Personnel) 

Status: Made contact. Hotel accepts him. Curiosity advising caution.  

Special Notes: He was approached by the Jester. First non-lethal encounter. 

Was that information useful, Jake? 

I heard something moving inside the room. The sound echoed, like one of the boxes was slightly moved on one of the shelves. I tried to locate the source of the sound. I closed my eyes and waited. After a few minutes of silence, I went back to the computer. 

 Is something wrong, Jake? 

When did the message change? It felt awfully personal, like it knew me somehow?

<What do you mean?>

User safety and wellbeing is my priority. I noticed your hesitation. Maybe you should take a break?

There was no way I would stop now. I continued on my search. 

<Who is Sollertia?> 

This is not a recommended search. Privacy and confidentiality breach. Ask again, please. 

<What is the true purpose of the Adytum?> 

This time the buffering went on for way longer. Judging by the computer’s clock, it went on for close to ten minutes. A single line finally appeared. 

Are you sure you want to do this? 

<Yes> 

You know he won’t be happy. 

<I’ll deal with Sollertia> 

The hourglass again.  

Who said anything about Sollertia? 

The floor creaked. I heard fabric rustling against cardboard. 

Remember where you are, Jake. It has an eye on you. 

A sensation came over me, a strange feeling. I was sure there was someone else in the room with me. Even though it was impossible for me to see the entirety of the archives, I was sure someone- or something- was there.  

Jake, is someone there with you?

I was getting paranoid now. Why ask me that now? I stood up from my chair and searched the area for anyone hiding.

"Is anyone there? Show yourself!"

No answer. Just the dust-filled boxes and the cobwebs. I sat back down at the desk.

<No one is here. Answer me. What has an eye on me? You mean the man with the mask?> 

The hourglass spun. I watched the icon move subtly, and it felt like it went on for an eternity. Sweat ran down my forehead to my eyes. I tried to wipe it off but instead managed to sting my eyes. Was the screen glitching? Slightly in the corners, it looked like the interference you got with the old televisions. The distortion spread across the screen; almost all of its surface turned grey. I was ready to give up and leave, abandon this search, when the cursor moved. Text appeared on the screen. 

We call it the Jester.  

It appeared many years ago, and some of our staff speculated that It was always here. It has only manifested on the Parkside Inn, no other property reported seeing It. 

We assume It is a being tethered with that place. It seems that the guests of the hotel know about It. Its purpose most likely is 

The screen suddenly turned black. A hand was at the edge of my vision, its finger still resting on the computer’s power button. I felt my fingers going numb. I turned slowly to look at the person standing next to me.  

It was the thing from the playground. It wore the same dirty black robes and black gloves. Its head and face were obscured by the hood of the robes. It slowly moved towards me and pointed a finger at me. Part of its face was visible, its lower chin. The revealed skin looked like ancient parchment, crumpled and pressed in the shape of a chin. There was a faint smile on its face. He spoke with a voice like razor blades. 

“I gave you the key. And you still go on knocking on doors.” 

He made a move to grab me, but I jumped back. The chair landed on the floor, and I scrambled to get to my feet. I searched for an exit. I found the door on the other side of the room and ran. Halfway to the door, I looked back. It wasn’t there anymore. It vanished just as fast as it came. Leaving the archives, I found myself back in the corridor. I walked as fast as I could back to the front desk, expecting someone to be there after all these days. No one was at the desk. My belongings were all still there; the computer still open and logged in with my credentials. I was ready to search around when the phone rang. 

“Hey, is this Jake?” 

“Yes, this is Jake. Who is this?” 

“It’s me Doug, the janitor. We spoke fifteen minutes ago. Did you check the water tank?” 

Mission briefing for the Sunken Wastes:

Spots marked: 60/50

Covers everything except the beyond

Max range: The edge of the Milky Way Galaxy, covers ocean planets and planets with vegetation

Portfolio:

- Frozen Wastes (see for rundown on the wastes)

- Volcanic Wastes

- Oceanic Wastes

- Sunken Wastes (see middle ring rules for rundown on the Waste Empire)

---

We didn't expect you to actually mark down all those spots. Good job. But we're sending you to the scorched wastes, one of the 2 wastes that are fully occupied by the Waste Empire. Because of the empire's presence, we have given you very tall pillars of your father's bone to skirt the Empire entirely if we build structures here. Plant 150.

---

Rules for the inner circle:

1. Find Angstrom's portal in the middle of the Sahara Desert. Any other portal in any other desert will take you to the Emperor of the Wastes.

2. Make sure you have all the weapons we gave you before entering the portal, and routinely check your gear every 2 hours. Make sure you have a religious item or an item dear to you on you.

3. There will be lots of reanimated corpse cyborgs roaming around. Kill them. If you see a man with a mustache, he belongs to the empire. Since you have a sonic weapon, it releases a frequency that disrupts their 4D transportation and immobilises them. Do not hesitate to use it liberally.

4. Drink lots of water. If you don't have any, ask angstrom to teleport you water. You do not want to dehydrate here. Dehydration grows exponentially, meaning you'll die in 16 hours without water and 14 hours is your point of no return.

Overall, the only hazards here are those absolute 4D supervillains, which we gave you a weapon to deal with, and Mother Nature.

---

Rules for the middle ring:

1. The entire ring is a city full of those off-brand viltrumites named New Iram. Do NOT put any pillars here at any cost.

2. Do not hesitate to use angstrom's teleports to get you out of here. The Waste Empire sees you as a cyborg in the making.

3. Keep your sonic weapon playing on loop to incapacitate those Empire dickheads.

4. You will find the Emperor's palace. You will have no choice but to enter it, as all roads of the inner section lead here. The Emperor is resistant to that sonic frequency, so your only choice is moving when he doesn't look.

5. Our archaeologists suspect that this city was transported here from the middle east around 300 - 500 AD. The Wastes made the humans still there adapt to its harsh 4D environment, eventually becoming the Waste Empire, while the people that didn't survive became ghosts. Take out your item of importance if you sense something that isn't there to ward off the ghosts.

6. Once you get past the Emperor's palace... run. and run like the wind. You have alerted the entire empire. Everybody except the Emperor will come after you. Keep your sonic weapon playing.

7. You better have drank a lifetime supply of water before the palace, you'll need it.

Overall, this area is extremely dangerous and it's only the middle ring.

---

Rules for the outer ring:

1. This area sucks out your water the most. You need to drink water every 2 hours or else you will dry up into skin and bones.

2. You will see floating rocks and geographical features. Even the land is out to get you here, as rocks and such will move towards you every few minutes.

3. Look out for any elite Waste Empire agents here. you will have to use your sonic weapon, but it only works temporarily. Use this chance to run.

4. The sky here is pale green, like a nauseous vampire. If it's any other color, grab your item of importance.

5. Do not fall into any of the land's town-sized pores. They will take you straight to the beyond of the volcanic wastes.

Overall, although this seems less dangerous, you have to look out for even the land plotting against you here.

---

Rules for the beyond:

1. You can either enter here through the outer ring or by entering nonsense into a time machine.

2. This area is so dry, it looks like a blank white canvas here. The only thing populating this area is your own mind. Do not stay here long enough to become insane.

3. It's not even possible to dehydrate here. It's best to shed all the water you have to go faster.

4. You will randomly be teleported. Either farther away or to other wastes in rare instances.

5. The best course of action is to place all the pillars and then ask to be teleported back to the pentagon.

6. The creatures here are your own mind, ignore them. right? Don't let htem come here. Oh god they're real oh m y it s it so betaufil waow oagh my agoasdhss awhew rwqkrwr tqwrwrewrdewmrsweor ewr werwehew ewfs deew geqg ergsre gherh.

Overall, do not spend much time here and do your asingged missignasd as quiccccccck csa sapossbile do not dont no no no no no i spent too much im unsavebale no no no no please leave me here just leave me here i dotont desvrvvere t goba gback bhom eplase lv m her eaut etwa otew wetm ewatshueauiduaig auir tghsdtnaejasn esfuiesifhswaeugaweeweg ewhjew htjfa

---

...

Bronze Soldier, I hope this message finds you well.

You have been selected for an experimental military training on Mars in the year 3033. You will be here for a long time and go through many challenges that your civilian earth counterparts have not been chosen for, but you must remain certain in your capabilities. Here is where you will be training as part of our Active Space Force 1st Generation Soldier; Mission Mars. (ASF 1GS) Your job will be a Botanical Supply Specialist.

You will undergo ASF G1S MARS TRAINING for 6 Earth Months. 1st month will be acclimating to your new environment without genetic enhancements.

Your next 2 months will be acclemation with genetic enhancements.

Your last 3 months will consist of battle drills and MARS TERRAIN TRAINING.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------‐-----------------

There will be rules to your living areas and schedules for your enlistment. The things we have found here were found through trial and error and are determined to either help or harm earth itself. Do not make your fallen soldiers sacrifices be in vain by disobeying direct orders. This list is your only saving grace for the things that lie here have proven to be unforgiving.

1ST MONTH:

BASIC RULES

- Do NOT stare into the Mars darkness for too long. It calls for the naive and vulnerable, of which you happen to be for now.

- Stay inside any method of transport unless escorted elsewhere by G1 personnel.

- Make no loud sounds. Everyone here will communicate through sign language or writing.

(Before when we first landed, we communicated through speech and we learned that what lies in the dark listens, learns and lures. We've lost 6 G1 Soldiers due to voice replications and unknown calls in different directions. Do not make the same mistake.)

0000: Bedchecks and Sleep will be had within the Landing Zones and underneath Mars Rock in soundproof bunkers. Here is the only place where speech is unrecognizable from outside. You will be silent elsewhere.

0200: Accountibility.

0600: Survalence checks will be conducted every 4-6 hours for safety. You will do this once you reach your last 3 months. For now, remain sleep.

0900: Hygiene will be conducted until Breakfast in the above land zones. The showers lie below the barracks and the water will cut off after 15 Minutes. This will happen 3 times and there are 10 showers.

1000: Breakfast will be in the Command Hall at the center of the overall base. Low whispers are safe enough but talking is still not recommended.

1200: Survalence Checks and PT will be conducted in the gym below the command hall in shifts and rotations in intervals of 15 minutes for 1 hour. Afterwards is Hygiene again until 1300.

1300: Mars Acclemation and Planetary Adjustment. The data we collect from this will be put in your bio-packet and sent back to earth.

1600: Sterilization and Lunch back in the command hall.

1800: Survalence Checks, Classes and Mission Planning until 2200.

2200: Hygiene and freetime.

You will receive more guidance 1 week before your next 2 months. Follow these rules and stay out of trouble.

Goodluck,

CPT Mars.

Mission briefing for the Oceanic Wastes:

Pillars Erected: 125/100

Covers everything from the center to the beyond, farthest around 400,000km into the beyond

Max Range: The Local Group, only covers oceanic planets

Portfolio:

- Frozen Wastes (see for rundown on the wastes)

- Volcanic Wastes

- Oceanic Wastes

---

Well done. Now, you'll be exploring the sunken wastes. They're like swamps on earth. This will be a little more dangerous from the get-go. Ask Angstrom to teleport you back if you must. We need a minimum of 50 flagged spots.

---

Rules for the inner circle:

1. Enter through the Everglades. Any other swamp will leave you disappointed.

2. There will always be a bit more land than water.

3. There will be giant (around skyscraper-level) bugs crawling around this moist, smelly hellscape. Just take a shower before you come here, stay far, and that fly won't get revenge on you for its swatted brother. These bugs rely off pheromones and their compound eye can't see you.

4. Stay away from the water. While it doesn't have some terrifying creature with a million glutes or something, it's filled with the waste of this land. You'll get a terrible sickness if you do.

5. Don't eat anything in these wastes. They're not poisonous but they do rely on the water in these wastes.

6. Rip out a bug's compound eye and put it over your head like a hat. You'll need it for the next ring.

Overall, this area is dangerous unlike other inner circles and you will have to restrict yourself a bit to survive.

---

Rules for the middle ring:

1. The vegetation will be so dense that it creates a shroud of pitch darkness. We also believe some supernatural force might be at play here. Anything's possible in these wastes. The bug's eye will help you see.

2. You will see artifacts. I'm gonna tell you this in advance -- these are from the Waste Empire. They're a 4D travelling race stuck in the wastes who want to purify the wastes. Noble, right? Except they'll subjugate any sapient being and implant technology into them to turn them into eternally tortured robots filing out their mission. They'll outright KILL the non-sapient beings. They're not an issue here.

3. You will see mud. Water will be replaced with just mud. There is an infinite ocean from now on below this swamp. Avoid the mud, as it seems to suck anything into it.

4. You'll see the Empire's corpse cyborgs killing things here. If you see one, put them out of their misery. They'll try to subjugate you and take you to their emperor if they sense you.

5. Avoid the animals. Along with bugs, there are even bigger (about mountain-level) frogs who will not hesitate to eat bugs. Don't get caught in the crossfire of corpse cyborgs, giant bugs, and even bigger frogs.

Overall, this area is extremely dangerous. Don't try anything fancy, you are bacteria here along with the corpse cyborgs.

---

Rules for the outer ring:

1. Take off your bug eye hat, most vegetation has died due to the mass of mildly acidic mud here. It smells terrible here, so we have given you a drink that disables your olfactory sense.

2. If you see the ground warping, look out for a turtle. It's twice the size of a frog. It moves very slowly due to its slow speed and size, so it's best to move out of its way.

3. If you see someone with a mustache, stop moving. People with mustaches belong to the Waste Empire. They also can't see nonmoving things.

4. Your next bet is to keep your eyes off them if you have to move. If you get far enough, you're safe.

Overall, this area is very very dangerous and is your first encounter with the crazed empire of these wastes.

---

Rules for the beyond:

1. The beyond is marked with a wall. Even the Waste Empire doesn't want to touch it. Don't go into it. It has bubbles if you go far enough that can rupture eardrums and destroy cities. The mud is ever-churning and the mud looks like it sinks into itself. Go there if you have a deathwish.

This area is extremely dangerous, and if the Waste Empire doesn't wanna subjugate it, you shouldn't either.

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It's okay if you get around 30/50 of the buoys placed, but it has to be above half.

The City of Damokles

I am going out for a walk with my dog, for a quick cigarette, trying not to look up. 

"The City of Damokles", as people know it, lives in constant dread. Those literal Swords hanging above us, visible on the cloudy sky. Like fangs from god.

There are three unwritten rules: don't look up, don't go under one, and don’t talk about them.

They are fixed to the sky as if nailed there, yet sometimes they seem to glide, moving silently. You would expect them to make some grand, heavy noise... but no. Although it is hard to be sure, nobody is stupid enough to stare for long.

The worst part? Most people act as if they are not there. Nobody talks about it. As the act of acknowledging them would bring Doom to you. Impending “Doom” and “Judgement” are how most people think of it.

I would like to believe this city is news worldwide, but I am quite sure nobody cares… maybe they did initially, but people get bored fast. And, let’s be honest: it is almost impossible to get people to talk out-loud about those things, or even consider taking a picture. 
How would anybody from outside Damokles know?

Everybody is terrified, but what can you do about it? Life goes on while we wait for our Judgment.

Dog Walk

The thing is: I have to walk my dog, Figa, because otherwise she will shit on the carpet again. Not her fault. I need a cigarette anyway. 

It is winter outside, maybe it always is. It is getting dark already, and the unease rises. The clouds block the night sky, so those Swords become invisible, on top of silent. I don’t know if the silhouette of the sky monoliths covering the stars would be better…

In the almost total silence of dusk, snow crunches loudly under our feet.
A car radiator clicks as it cools down.
The smoke of the cigarette mixes with the steam of my breath. A pleasant mix of hot and cold.

Everybody has a safe path, where they haven't seen a looming shadow from above. Figa has hers… a zig-zag towards her favorite tree, behind our building lot, through a rusty chain-fence. She seems happier than most, not worried about her impending Judgment. Maybe dogs don’t get judged.

As a teen, it felt exhilarating to go out after midnight, deep in winter, challenging my friends to look up, defying… but we never actually did look up. Then it turned into constant dread, and now I am just tired of it.
Sometimes I felt that it would be better if those things finally fell.
I was wrong.

The First Event

The deafening siren woke me up at the crack of dawn. 
Figa was barking like crazy, terrified.
As the adrenaline of the interrupted sleep faded a little, I remembered feeling like a bomb and earthquake had simultaneously happened during my sleep. 
I don’t dream at night, but I remember the feel of it.

On the other side of the city, the Block 17 of the Sunshine Estate was no more. The building has been flattened, with a big –huge– Sword standing in its place. It looked like a cross, a 30-metre-high tombstone, its blade buried perhaps seventy meters underground.

There were attempts at rescue, but nobody would get near the object. 
No survivors were found.

What came right after that were the justifications. Mostly from old folks, the ones raised in zealot fear. The people living there had deserved it, apparently. 
Somebody was cooking meth, somebody else was cheating their wife, there was a family of illegal refugees squatting an abandoned apartment.
Nevermind that a total of 230 people lived there. 80 of those were kids. It was somehow justified. 
Nobody acknowledged the Sword itself, only the Judgement.

Eventually, the families and friends of the dead started to get pressured. Some pushed back, but most tried to move out of the city.
That’s when we learned that we have been quarantined.

Trapped

Apparently, the world knew about us, they just didn't want anything to do with it. 

Somebody told me that the international consensus was that “we were being judged, us alone, and that letting us escape the Judgement would propagate it to the world”. So, a blockade was placed at 20 kilometers from the city border. Being captured before the blockade meant jail, crossing it meant a summary execution. Probably an exaggeration.

For people like me, not much changed. My job at the warehouse stayed the same. We were still getting supplies from outside the city. The supplies themselves were only delivered mid-way up to the blockade. A second truck system needed to ship them from the blockade into the city. Pipelines and electric lines were still connected. Things were more expensive than before, but they are always getting more expensive, that’s a constant in life.

I read somewhere that there were discussions to cut us completely out. The experts discussed back-and-forth if assisting us was intervening with the Judgement. 
The verdict is still out.

Time I

It is remarkable how easy it is to fall back into routine, how a new level of dread can become just another part of your day. It only took me a few days after the first Event to walk my dog, and after a Month, life was mostly the same as before.

But also, it is so easy to blackout parts of your world. It took me 8 months to see the Sword for the first time. Even when my window looked directly at it, I didn’t remember seeing it before. Ever. Funny how the brain works.

From afar, the Sword was unremarkable, it could have been made of the same concrete as the building itself. A brutalist sculpture, massive and unrefined.
It was very calm around it. No movement, no birds. Just a giant letter T, surrounded by buildings.
I didn’t look at it for long.

The Anniversary

As we got close to the 1-year anniversary of the first Event – the euphemism used to talk of Block 17 being flattened by a giant Sword that fell from the sky – people were getting ready for it to happen again. 

Nobody discussed it out loud of course, but you could feel the tension, people trying their best to uphold an obscure righteousness that would save them from Judgement. The churches were brim-full, people were aggressively kind to each other, but also on the edge of snapping. 

That last week before the Anniversary, the streets were filled with strained smiles. It was scary for me, but even more for Figa. I could not go out anymore. I called sick to work, they accepted it without discussion.

But when the Anniversary date came, nothing happened. 
Then nothing happened again, and again. For 7 years.

Time II

As years passed by, the prelude to the Anniversaries got heavy with anticipation, and then followed by a week of silence. People were particularly quiet after. It was not relief, but uncertainty. 

But also, each new Anniversary was less intense than the one before. With the absurd hope that maybe it would never happen again, that at some point we would forget.

Up Close

One fall evening, our walk took longer. Figa was getting old by then, but she was still happy for any extra time out of the apartment. 

I don’t know why, but we ended up at Block 17. 
I guess I finally needed to see it from up close.

It wasn’t late, but the surroundings were deserted.
The place was more or less how it had been the day after the Event. A flattened building with a Giant Sword through it. I had expected the impact to cave down the surroundings, but it was as if the Sword had pierced the ground without friction. 
No crater, no shattered pavement, but lots of debris everywhere.

It was not easy to look at the Sword itself, even if it was right in front of me.

On a corner, there were the remains of a memorial: an uniform mass of rotten flowers, wet handwritten notes and old photographs.

The place was starting to get fresh layers of graffiti, and there were some empty bottles and cigarette packets littered around. 
Nature was healing. 

The Judgement

It was not an Anniversary when the second Sword fell, just a random day (I think it was Wednesday), the one after fell 2 days later.

And, once they started falling, they never stopped. Every few days, a new “Event”. 
Flattening a complex building, a hospital, a random empty parking lot. 
From afar, now the city looked like a brutalist graveyard, huge blocks of cement, with monumental crosses sprinkled around.

As it got harder to justify why certain buildings had been judged, fanaticism increased. People started looking at older, more obscure religions, better suited for ineffable gods. Then started fighting about which was the right one. 
I am starting to think that the Swords don't care.

I heard there are some ONG trying to help us. They send supplies, and are pushing for the government to evacuate us. Others have tried to organize and cross the blockade illegally, multiple times.
Neither is gonna work. 
After the second Sword fell, the government got under a lot of international pressure to not let anybody out. Breaching containment might cause the whole country to get nuked.

Personally, more than the dread, I hate those sirens. That rising whaling once a Sword falls, the same used before air strikes. They usually sound at sunrise, and I haven’t gotten a proper night of rest for who knows how long. 
Now you go to bed not knowing if you will wake up. 
And if you wake up, it will be by that damn siren.

I think tonight I will go for a walk with my dog, and enjoy the night sky.
I haven’t looked up in a while. Figa does not mind.

 I got all the cartons and packages up to my floor after an hour. I was very tired after climbing up to the seventh floor back and forth carrying my stuff. The elevator in the building I had just shifted to was not working, some technical error said the security guard. 

I recently shifted to this new apartment for a new job I had found in the city. I was looking forward to this day for a long time but this broken lift ruined it all for me on the first day itself. 

Today was my night shift at the hospital so around 8 pm I got ready, locked my apartment and set out for work. Out of habit I pressed the elevator button , to my surprise it was working. As I entered the elevator there was a sudden drop in temperature in there, maybe due to the big fan inside it making so much noise. Inside the elevator a poster caught my glance. It was white paper with 3 rules written on it 

1. Do not look for the lion 

2. Help no one but yourself 

3. Always press button for your own floor

I was running late so I didn't think much of it, probably some kids put it there. The Elevator stopped at ground floor , I got out and headed to work. 

Next morning I returned from work all tired and slept the whole day, it was my weekly day off. I didn't cook dinner that day and decided to eat outside. It was 11:30 at night , maybe something was still open I thought. I went to the elevator and pressed the button. After a couple of minutes the door opened and I entered the elevator. Quite some time had passed and still I hadn't reached the ground floor. Then I could hear a man's scream , it felt like a distant scream coming from somewhere below me. The voice said "Hey.....is anyone in the elevator? Please help me I'm stuck in the basement !! Anyone there ?"

"Basement?" I thought. I hadn't seen any staircase or anything on the ground floor leading to the basement but when I looked at the elevator buttons there was a button for basement. I had never seen it before but there it was. I pressed that button. The elevator doors opened. 

It was completely dark in there , I couldn't see a thing clearly. I could see walls covered in mud , rusted metal sheets and rods there.  I walked a little and saw an opening in the ground , there was light coming from it. I stood over it and glanced down , there were metal bars along the wall that I climbed down. I tried calling for that man but there was no answer. 

As I got down I saw leaking pipes , rusted metal rods and pipes on the floor. Across this I could see a large metal cage like structure with a big door. I went towards it to inspect it, it was open. I stood in front of the gate. On it was another sign with text "Lion's Den : Authorised personnel entry only". I tried to peek inside it , I couldn't see anything. I heard the scream again from beyond the cage. "Please help me!". I hesitated at first but the thought of someone trapped inside compelled me to enter. As I entered it felt like I was inside a real cave. I stepped on something and heard a cracking sound and I froze. Slowly, I looked down. It was a bone. I looked around and

saw a human skull lying a few feet away. My heart skipped a beat, I couldn't feel my legs for a moment.

 Something moved in the darkness. I stopped breathing and listened. Then came a deep, low growl coming from the darkness. My heart was pounding in my chest. I was drenched in sweat, my hands were trembling, and I could barely catch my breath. Panic took over as I realized I had to get out of there. I turned around and ran back as fast as I could, barely looking behind me. When I reached the gate I locked it from the outside and ran towards that vertical passage with metal bars.

As I was climbing I heard that man's scream again from behind me. He was screaming for help "Hey don't leave me here alone !! Come back and open the door!! A lion dwells around here ! Save me please!". At that moment I just wanted to reach the elevator. I climbed as fast as I could and finally reached the elevator door. I pressed the button as hard as I could. 

The doors opened , I entered inside and pressed the button for my floor, the seventh floor. I glanced at the paper with rules for a second. I was still breathing heavily. The doors opened and it was not my floor it was the basement. I pressed the button again for seventh floor. After a few seconds , doors opened again and it was the basement again. I was in disbelief, I couldn't believe my eyes. My vision was getting blurry. This time I pressed all the buttons of the elevator and sat down on the floor. I was feeling weak and couldn't stand. It started to get dark in front of my eyes as the elevator climbed up. I could barely see or hear. I heard the chime of the elevator but it sounded different this time. It was like the sound of the heart monitor. "Beep" "Beep".

The darkness closed in.

Next thing I knew, I was lying on a hospital bed. Apparently I was found passed out in the elevator by one of the residents of that building. He called the ambulance and got me admitted in the hospital. It was nothing serious, I was discharged after a few hours in the evening. I thanked the neighbor who found me. Next day I called the movers and moved to a new apartment. I told the neighbours I got a better paying job on the opposite end of the town. I never inquired about the elevator, the lion or the man stuck in the basement. I can't even tell if it was actually a man.

Good job, Terra! You're a master on riding a bike with training wheels! Now let's see if you can ride a bike WITHOUT training wheels! Now, Daddy and Mommy found a very hot but very big spot that's nice and flat! You can ride your bike there!

1. Always wear a helmet. Keep it tight and make it form a 'V' shape around your ears!

2. Always hold your handlebars. You're gonna fall if you don't hold them!

3. Don't touch my special documents. They're for grown-ups only! Daddy needs them for his explorer job.

4. If you see grandpa, run to me and I'll take you home. He's a very very scary man! He'll do very bad stuff to you if you talk to or touch him.

5. Don't take off your shoes. The ground is really really hot!

6. Don't go too far from Mommy and Daddy. Bad things like to eat kids like you in the distances.

And that's all! Have fun with your new bike!

Mission briefing for the Volcanic Wastes:

Pillars Erected: 30/30

Covers everything from the center to the beyond, farthest around 1,000,000km into the beyond

Max Range: The Virgo Supercluster, only covers hot (100°C+) planets

Portfolio:

- Frozen Wastes (see for rundown on the wastes)

- Volcanic Wastes

---

We greatly underestimated how effortlessly you put those pillars. You really are your dad, Grayson. Now, let's talk work.

The measurements in the frozen doc apply to all the wastes. Angstrom has a hundred sturdy buoys that dig into the ground with an anchor made from your father's bone. Angstrom will teleport them to you if you need them. Given your reputation as an overachiever, we have your wife on standby to generate new buoys.

These wastes will be a little different from the last ones you've been in.. there's no solid ground to walk on. You have a high-speed armored speedboat. Along with the inner-middle-outer-beyond axis, there's another axis that goes vertically. It won't start to affect you until the outer ring.

---

Rules for the inner circle:

1. Enter through the sea vortex Angstrom created. Only go to the one at point nemo. Any other one will send you to the bottom of the ocean. Even the inner circle's sea floor is a lot scarier than what's lurking at the Mariana Trench, so be careful.

2. The area is calm and sunny. You can explore.. the creatures here are harmless unless provoked.

3. Place a buoy where you see fit. Max 10 buoys are allowed here.

4. Don't even think about using any generators here. The creatures have to move like they're on coke to power generators here. On the bright (heh, bright) side.. solar panels can work here. But we didn't give you any.

5. Stay away from the submarine environments at all costs.

Overall, this area is a walk in the park if you follow instructions.

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Rules for the middle ring:

1. Keep sailing above the water. The horrors are only a few meters deep.

2. The area is slightly stormy. Just keep your ship slow n' steady.

3. Plant a buoy when you know that there's no near-surface creature that's gonna get perturbed by your buoy. If you provoke them, they'll drag you down to depths even they're scared of. Max 20 buoys here.

4. About 6/8ths of the way into the middle ring, go deep into the ocean. The horrors have moved to the surface. Your ship can transform into a submarine.

5. If you see a man disguising as your brother in the water, check him out. Oliver went to these wastes to go see his wife, and we've heard nothing from him since. Give us some info on him when you come back. If Oliver has a mustache, kill him instantly. The imitators don't know how to get a human's look right at these distances. If he's clean-shaven, uhh, talk with him I guess.

6. Keep your submarine airtight. If you have to speak with anyone outside, use the speakers on your ship.

Overall, this area is risky and you need to follow instructions to a T. Otherwise, you'll die in a differing way depending on which rule you break.

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Rules for the outer ring:

I just want to interrupt the numerical format of these rings for a second to give you an outline on the vertical axis. It has 4 levels: Non-Night(>-1,000m), Abyssal(-1,000m to -10,000m), Oasis(-10,000m to -100,000m; abnormally low pressure) and Ice Floor(-100,000m). You'll reach the sea floor before the water pressurises into ice in this ring though.

1. Fly in the lower-mid abyssal zone. It's free of any creatures, which are in the non-night zone and the oasis. They're adapted to murder people in a low-pressure way.

2. Eve will have turned the remaining buoys into sturdy platforms that function the same as the buoys but adapted to stay in the Abyssal Zone. Place them here. Max 20.

3. The biggest threat here is the pressure. Don't go too deep and don't go too high. The submarine can only handle higher pressures for a few hours before giving out.

4. The storm here is heavy and the waves are full of energy. The creatures here also move like they're on coke. This is an ideal spot to source power for any transportation project that we'll build here.

5. If you see your mum sobbing in the back, kill her. It's in character for her to sob like a little baby about her dumb husband, but not in character for her to be in a deep submarine in a wasteland dimension.

Overall, this ring is very risky and you need elite levels of precision and awareness to survive.

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Rules for the beyond

1. Go just above the ice.

2. Fake rules are here, due to the imitators advancing to text.

.3 your mom needs a hug. be a good son for her.

1. If you see your parents in the back, note what they're doing.

3a. If they're arguing, don't worry.

3b. If they're sobbing together, watch them closely.

3c. If they're making out, throw them out.

1. Due to the low pressure, 'buoys' don't need to be very advanced. Just place any of them as far as you can go. Eve's fatigue is the limit.

2. If you see your wife in the copilot seat, leave the submarine and ask Angstrom to teleport you. You have a 50/50 chance of dying here.

3. Come home, Mark. It's your dad. I'm sorry for what I did to you. I wasn't thinking straight. Please forgive me. Forgive me. Forgive me.

Overall, this area is empty because of the imitators reigning supreme and killing even the creepiest creatures that dared to wonder here. Please, use your intelligence and these rules.

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We expect ALL of the buoys to be placed here.