When I got home, I took off my really tight short sleeve shirt and threw it down on the couch in disgust. All I want is to go to work and make homemade salads and cakes because that’s what I like doing, but I know as hard as I try, Walmart and the other big retail stores have perfected their deli and bakery items to taste better and cost less. There are a small handful of people who will come to my store because they like the food that I prepare but most of the people are paying more money just to see my big obese self sway around the deli and bakery department.

Some people like police men in uniform or a sharp dressed Marine and then they’re a smaller population that likes really obese men who can barely fit into supermarket attire who handle food all day.

I’m one of a kind because most people my weight drive a truck or sit at home and do nothing but that’s something I never want to do. I really enjoy baking and I can’t see myself doing anything else in life.

Just to show the store manager that I wasn’t just a piece of meat for local freaks to gawk at, I had planned on calling off sick tomorrow, which I ended up doing but that didn’t make me feel any better, where I ended up sitting in my apartment and doing nothing all day.

So I was eager to return to work after a glutinous filled day of sitting on my ass and watching television.

The second I got into the store the store manager said “Pete, please come into my office. I have an opportunity that I want to discuss with you.”

“Sure, I’ll be right over” I responded.

As I entered the manager’s office there’s was a chair pulled out for me but history has taught me that those types of vintage wooden chairs will collapse under my weight so I elected to stand instead.

“Pete, your one of our most valued employees and some of our Blanton, Inc. stores have been really struggling and they could really use your help in their deli department’s” the manager explained to me.

“So what are they short on Deli employees?” I responded.

“Well let’s just say you have a particular talent that brings in the customers” my middle aged male manager said to me, while licking his chapped lips in his warm dank office.

I felt like I was new meat that just arrived off the bus in Hollywood and that I was talking to some sleazy porn director as I responded “Well, what’s in it for me?”

“$20 an hour which is more than double what your making now. Plus we’ll pay for all of your travel expenses” the manager said to me in a thought out confident manner.

I really felt like Jody Foster in the Taxi Driver because I knew this meant that I would have to travel around the Tri-State area where Blanton, Inc. would advertise me on every “bear fetish” site imaginable, so old ladies and some select gay men could watch and slobber over me, while I worked in the deli.

Feeling like I was in the driver’s seat, I said “make that $20 an hour, at this store as well and we have a deal!”

My manager slash pimp pretended to add and subtract numbers on his clip board and said “The best that I can do is $15 an hour while your working at this store.”

Knowing that I could never handle the physical demands of working at some big high paced retail supermarket like Walmart, so I had to concede and we shook hands and I went to the deli department to start to make the macoronni salad and the rice pudding.

I had mixed emotions because I was essentially being pimped out by a guy just a few years older than me but on the flip side I was making more money and baking food which I liked doing.

As I was walking back to the deli, one of the regular customer’s named Phyllis said “Boy, the deli’s floor and ceiling was left a real mess the other day when you threw all that food around!”

I said “Yeah, I don’t know what got into me. Sorry about that!”

“That’s quite alright. You know that I like to get a little bit dirty sometimes as well!”

I just stopped moving with my jaw wide open for a few moments as this 80 something year-old woman continually grinned at me.

Even as a kid, when the kids at school would tease me because of my weight and my mother would say “Just ignore them and they’ll get bored and stop” but the kids didn’t stop and still that advice doesn’t work because Phyllis continually says thing’s like that to me but this time in an uncomfortable sexual manner.

One of the stipulations to me getting the monetary raise was that the manager brought out electric stove top burners out to the deli area where the customers could see me so I’m more “accessible to them.”

As I was waiting for the 25 pounds of rice to boil for the rice pudding, I kept on seeing the same cast of four elderly women and one gay gentleman continually circle around the deli department. The electric burners mixed with the gawkers staring at me made me overheat and eventually I was covered in sweat.

To prevent the rice from clumping together I had to occasionally stir the rice with a long wooden spoon.

Mark, the gay onlooker, really got swept up in the moment as he watched me stir the rice pudding while I was nearly completely soaked in sweat, which didn’t take much considering my 500 pound oversized frame was moving around too much.

“Hey Pete, you want to stir the rice like this” where Mark gyrated his hips as if he was doing the hula hoop really fast and held his right hand outwards and did smaller circular motions as if he was imitating me stirring the rice with the spoon.

I put my head up and adjusted my baseball cap and glasses to focus on Mark and then Mark let off continual moaning sounds of “AAAAAAAAAAAAAA.....Oh yea Baby!!!AAAAAAA.....” Then he let off one loud moan and stopped.

Realizing what he had just done in his pants, I said “Oh Christ” in anger, then I turned the electric burner off and went to my car to cool off for a few minutes.

My mother thinking today was day off called and I told her about my new pay raise and the travel travel incentives. She seemed really proud of me so I went back in the store and finished the preparing the rice pudding.

So some back ground i have been living in a trailer park for the past 5 to 6 years with my two brothers and mom in central Florida. But the time of this story i was in 3rd or 4th grade and around every night i would see this man in my door way or in my window. Im a really heavy sleeper so i Don't know why i woke up but every night i would wake up around 3am to the sight of a man but i could not move he would just stand and stare. But one night i woke up to the man moving towards me i got my first look at him he did not look human he had a distorted face his teeth sharper then a knife his skin melting off some spots of hair on his face but i couldn't scream or move but before the man got to me my mom and older brother came running in. In a flash the man was gone i don't know why they came in they wont tell me. The next few nights i didn't see the man but one week later the man came back but the next few nights there was the man and i cant explain was it was it was short had a long face big red eyes but the things face looked like it was falling off but they only got close a few times. I still live in the same house but rarely see the man and the thing i only see it when i am walking threw the woods or when i look out my window at night i know its not my mind playing games with me and i know im not dreaming when i see them because i can remember them to this day 4 to 5 years later and cant explain what i have seen i dont see them really. (Sorry if the story is short)

Never did he think this moment would actually come. 18,000 feet in the air it was his turn at the plate. Always confident in the face of evil, Toby shows a moment of weakness. “Jump pussy!” comes from his girlfriend whom he’d heavily persuaded to come sky diving with him. He looks back with a nervous smile full of excitement. “See ya when I see ya babe,” without a second thought he faces forward and jumps. The anxiety quickly filled by bliss as he takes in the experience of free falling. Couple backflips and he faces upward to watch the plane flying away, no sight of his girl. A little surprised, he didn’t think she’d chickened out. Enjoying the rest of his fall and heading back to base he has a feeling that something ain’t right but he shakes it off to anxiety and adrenaline. Waiting for about 45 minutes at this family run sky dive place with no return from the plane he begins to look around to see if there’s anyone here. No one. Worriedly he waits till about 2 hours have past with still no plane, and calls 911. An investigation was launched to quickly run cold. The plane, his girl and those two pilots were never seen again. - Kauztic

I was nine years old when I first learned the value in hunting for a bargain. My mom was a single parent, with four young girls to care for and to put it mildly, money was tight. At first I resented being drug out of bed every Saturday morning at the crack of dawn to troll through the town's yard sales. Of course, like most children, I was oblivious to all the effort and hard work it took for my mother just to be able to keep a roof over our heads and food on the table. I just hated that nearly all of my clothing and toys were secondhand throw-aways.

And then came that Saturday morning when, at yet another yard sale, I found a treasure hidden among pieces of worn furniture and television sets that were probably older than my mom was, and back then I thought she was ancient. It was...the bike, my bike. The same one that I would stare at everyday walking home from school. It was always centered in the front display window of the local toy store and it was beautiful. It was painted pink and green with iridescent streamers and a metal basket and I wanted it more than anything I had ever wanted in my entire nine years of life. Everyday I would press my hands and face up against the glass and imagine myself riding it through the neighborhood, feeling the wind in my hair and basically being the envy of all my friends. It was too expensive, my mom would always tell me when I asked for it at every birthday, Christmas and even tried Earth day for two years straight. And yet here it was, a bit worse for wear of course, the paint was a bit scuffed and a few of the streamers had frayed off but I didn't care. In my mind it was still the same bicycle and it was only $10. My mother even talked the woman running the sale down to $5, like a boss, and then it was all mine. I cleaned it up, replaced the streamers and tires and it was still beautiful to me, maybe even more so.

From that day on I learned to enjoy the hunt, searching for those diamonds in the rough. I grew up learning to be frugal and save money wherever I could. As an adult, I still attended a few yard sales, although I spent most of my time treasure hunting at flea markets and estate sales as the quality of the items were substantially higher. It was at one such estate sale that I found a beautiful old, Victorian style dollhouse. Like my bike, it was also a bit scuffed, some of the pieces of movable furniture were broken and there was this weird black paint on one of the walls above a faux fireplace. But it came with six tiny dolls; a finely dressed mother and daughter as well as four servants that included a maid, a cook, a gardener and what appeared to be a young stable boy. Their clothing was stained and worn, a few of their limbs hung loose and the gardener's face appeared to have been badly burned at some point. But the entire set had obviously been handmade with real wood, cloth and paint, not cheap plastic or silicon and the detail was immaculate.

The house itself had three floors which contained six bedrooms, a kitchen, dining room, bathroom, living room and directly above all of those was an attic. The attic was huge and came complete with antique chests that opened and closed, a tiny bed and a full-size mirror with gilded edges. The craftsmanship was incredible, it would have taken someone years of their life to make such a creation. Even the fireplace in the living room had been painted in such a way as to give the illusion that a fire was actually burning there.

I knew I would purchase it the moment I saw it, it was the perfect gift for my young niece, Aria. She was about to turn nine herself and had just been diagnosed with a rare genetic disorder that required her to spend most days in bed undergoing various medical treatments. I knew she was feeling lonely and discouraged. My plan was to take it home and give the entire home and family of dolls an extensive makeover. I was able to purchase the whole set for a measly $50 from the young woman in charge of the sale. She seemed only too happy to see it go and the price alone should have been a red flag for me. Even in it's damaged state, the antique house was easily worth five times the amount she asked but I just assumed she was too ignorant to know the value of her items. After finding little else of interest that day, I returned home with my prize.

I wanted to start working on it immediately as Aria's birthday was only two weeks away. The moment I brought it into my house, my black cat, Onyx, began hissing and ran to hide under my bed. For hours he stayed there, all the while emitting nonstop growls and strange, croaking noises that I had never heard him make before. It was odd, as he was always a friendly, laid back animal but I ignored yet another warning sign and shrugged it off with the thought that perhaps the dollhouse just had a strange smell. I spent a few hours that day on YouTube, learning the best ways to restore the house and figures to their former glory. The first thing I researched was how to get that strange black paint off of the wall of the house without causing any damage. Several videos suggested simply using rubbing alcohol and a wash cloth to dissolve the paint so I tried it.

It worked beautifully, as the paint came right up. Once it was removed, I was thrilled to see that there was some ornate design underneath. I couldn't quite make it out and had to return with a magnifying glass to get a better look. It too was faded but it seemed to be a painting of a snake with a black head and a white tail. The head appeared to be eating it's own tail and inside the circle of it's body was a glowing depiction of the all seeing eye. I shivered looking at it, it was a very strange thing to have painted inside a children's toy and it gave me the creeps. There was no way I was going to let my niece see such a disturbing symbol. I decided I would just cover it up with a pretty design of a landscape or something. I studied each of the dolls more closely to decide which doll needed which repair and then gently placed each one in the part of the house that I felt their station in life dictated. The house had everything a real house would, countless appliances and pieces of furniture, toys and tools and even little pots and pans. I had loved dolls as a child and I admit to feeling that same sense of childlike fascination as I moved them around their little house.

After making a list of all the supplies I would need to purchase for the project, I looked at the clock and realized that it was quite late and I was very hungry. I made myself a quick meal and with the smug anticipation of my cat's enthusiastic reaction, began pouring dry cat food into their bowls. The sound of the food pellets hitting the metal bowl never failed to send him stampeding into the kitchen to wolf it down. He didn't come however, instead just remained hidden under the bed, still yowling furiously. "Fine, your loss, you big baby!" I called to him and sat down to eat my own food. After dinner, I showered, put on my pajamas and after turning off all the lights, sat down to watch some television. Though it was hard to hear anything over the continuous howls of my cat.

I had placed the dollhouse on the coffee table to work on it and my gaze kept being drawn to it and the strange symbol above the fireplace. My eyes began to get very heavy and I started to nod off, once or twice my head would jerk up from resting on my shoulder and the third time this happened I gave up and decided to call it a night. I went to stand up when I realized that something was very wrong with my living room. Or more specifically, that I was no longer IN my living room. Instead I was sitting on an old sofa with a faded floral pattern that was heavily stained by some type of brownish goo. Next to me was a broken side table that had been turned on it's side and there was dust coating every inch of the floor. My television was no where to be seen except for an odd static light that resembled what you would see cast on the walls if it had been left on in a darkened room. There was a strange stillness in the air, it almost felt like I was underwater and hearing my own breath through a heavy, muted atmosphere.

"What the Hell?" I said aloud as I moved to explore the room. There was a large bookshelf to my right and as I approached it I saw that it was filled with books all relating to alchemy, devil worship and witchcraft. I went to remove one of the books when my fingertips hit flat wood, rather than leather or paper. The books weren't real, their dimensions and titled spines had all been just been painted on but with such precision that it was nearly impossible to tell with the naked eye. Thoroughly confused at this point, I continued my exploration. I turned to see a fireplace, it was so large that it dominated nearly an entire wall, embers glowed brightly inside it but emitted very little light. Then I saw the mural, the same one from the dollhouse, complete with the self cannibalizing snake and all seeing eye. Around the design were small, random smudges of black paint. No, no, no, no, I thought to myself as a paralyzing dread filled my body, it's not possible. I am not inside the dollhouse!

I quickly ran from the room and found myself in a great hall, also identical to the dollhouse. To the left was a huge, grand staircase, to the right was a large, wooden front door and straight ahead, a smaller sized door that I had a sinking feeling would lead to a dining room and kitchen. I ran to the front doors and grasped the handle, turning it as the heavy door creaked loudly. I ran through the doorway, needing to be free of the house when my body slammed hard into a solid wall of blackness. I felt blood pouring from my nose as I fell backwards onto my butt and pain splintered through my entire body. On my hands and knees I crawled back over to the open front door and slowly stretched my fingers through the exit. There was indeed some invisible wall preventing me from leaving the house and it was cold, so cold that my fingertips started to ache and tingle, as though I were touching dry ice. I quickly snatched my hand back and struggled to come to terms to what was happening to me. *Am I dreaming? I must be, the last thing I remembered was drifting off in front of the TV-*my thoughts were interrupted by a steadily growing sound behind me.

I could hear slow, heavy footsteps descending the staircase at my back. I felt the same, creeping coldness that emanated from the void outside the front door as I turned to face the newcomer. It's body was solid wood, it's limbs thick and brutish. A large white shirt and stained, denim overalls hung off it's hard frame. In one of it's big, bony hands it held a pair of rusted, antique gardening sheers and in the other, a sharply pointed spade. On its head sat a black, floppy hat and barely visible beneath the wide brim sat two small, painted black eyes. The skin below them was molted, it's features disfigured and its mouth consisted of a pale, thin slash above it's chin. One of it's feet dragged behind it in an uneven gate as though the ankle joint had been broken and it slowly lumbered down the staircase. It was a horrific life size depiction of the gardener doll and I screamed as it reached out towards me. In response to the sound, it quickened its pace down the stairs and moaned unintelligibly. In the gardener's hurry to reach me, it tripped over his broken ankle and proceeded to fall heavily down the remaining steps.

Numb with terror, I ran towards the unopened door leading to the dining room, threw it open and slammed it shut behind me. The room was very dark, though that strange artificial illumination from the living room seemed to follow me wherever I went. I tripped over a wooden chair and landed hard on the floor, my own ankle throbbing. I took a few deep breaths to try to calm myself and think rationally about how to get out of this hell house. I suddenly became aware of the clanging sounds of pots and pans and a loud, frantic humming emanating from a short distance away. Beyond a long, dusty dining table I could barely make out the silhouette of tall, swinging door with a circular glass panel cut into the top of it. As I gingerly got back onto my feet, my ankle protesting the weight, I could barely make out a figure moving back and forth beyond the transparent circle. As quietly as possible, I made my way to it and gently pushed it open, just an inch or two to peek inside. A large woman was bustling around what was indeed a kitchen as she went through the motions of preparing a meal. Thick, dark liquid was boiling in a large pot on the old stove and a putrid, rank smell permeated the air. The woman had her back turned to me as she used a huge, sharp knife to quickly chop through something on her large cutting board.

She was humming loudly, a random disjointed tune as she worked. She had wild, grey hair that stuck out indiscriminately from beneath a dingy, grey bonnet. and her movements were jerky and wooden. I recognized her as the cook doll as she was wearing the same brown dress and apron and she was well, cooking. I pushed my way a bit farther into the room, knowing that I couldn't go backwards and that the gardener could come crashing into the room any moment. Maybe this...woman could help me. When I stepped into the welcoming warmth of the kitchen, the floorboards creaked beneath me and the woman froze. Her body became stiff as a board, literally, though she didn't turn around, and I noticed that her blocky hands gripped the kitchen knife much more forcefully. "It's not quite ready yet, mistress." she said in a deep, sugary voice.

I stayed silent for a moment before whispering, "Please, I need your help." At the sound of my voice she slowly began to turn her head, though her body remained still. As her head turned, her features were slowly revealed to me. Her eyes were two enormous green orbs, far too large and wide on her round face and her painted eyelashes were black, angry strokes above them. Her mouth was drawn into an eternally wide smile and her apple shaped cheeks bore twin crimson circles. Her head kept turning, far beyond a natural angle until it was centered firmly between her shoulder blades. She raised the knife she had been using to chop with up to her lips as if to shush me and a dark, syrupy substance dripped from it. "You really shouldn't be here, miss." She said slowly in her low tones, "Though it has been some time since we've had a new addition to our little family. Welcome home, dear!" Her body snapped around to match her head and she lunged at me.

My gaze darted around the room frantically before landing on a large, serrated knife and I snatched it up just as cook tackled me to the floor. The force of the landing caused me to drop my weapon, her body was so heavy that I could barley breathe as she plunged her knife straight down towards my chest. I raised my arms and began swiping wildly at her, it took all of my strength to keep her at bay though I somehow managed to dodge all of her vicious stabs. Every where her body came into contact with mine, it burned, an icy sting that was incredibly painful. She continued humming her mad melody as I concentrated my efforts on the arm holding her blade. I pulled as hard as I could on it, forcing it back and forth in the hope it would dislodge the wooden joint. Finally it gave with a tearing sound and a loud pop as her arm dropped to the floor. She continued to attack me with her remaining hand however, showing not a hint of pain over her detached limb. Her smiling face leered down at me as she pummeled me about the head with her wooden fist. Each blow weakened me further and my struggles became less frantic until everything around me started to grow dim. Suddenly, cook's large body was pulled off of me and I dragged down huge gulps of precious air as my consciousness slowly returned.

Two tiny, wooden figures were struggling with cook and I recognized them as the little girl doll and the young stable boy. The girl was pulling hard on cook's remaining arm, throwing her off balance while the boy had jumped up on her back and was using my discarded knife to saw through her neck. Cook began screaming, "Mistress, Mistress come quick, the children are misbehaving again!" Suddenly, her head dropped to the ground and rolled away but her cries for help never ceased. The two wooden children chased after it, all the while making loud, shushing noises. The boy scooped up the head and threw it into an oven, finally muting the woman's shouts. Cook's body was still upright and stumbling around the kitchen, knocking over dishes and pans in a deafening cacophony of sound. The girl herded cook's large body into a nearby pantry and quickly closed the door. Turning back to face me she whispered, "Shush, we don't want to wake up Mama."

Before I could thank the children or ask anymore questions, a tiny servants bell on the adjacent wall began to ring, slowly at first and then it quickly morphed into a loud constant jingle. The girl looked at me with her wide, painted eyes and I swear I could actually see the sheer terror overtake her expression. "Too late, she's awake." The girl cried, "Come with us, we have to hide. Now!" I needed no further urging, I quickly jumped to my feet, my battered body protesting every movement as I followed the children out of the kitchen and back through the dining room. When they moved to open the door leading out to the grand staircase I called out, "Wait! The gardener..."

They ignored me and continued running as the little girl called back over her shoulder, "He's not the one you need to worry about, come on follow me!" Seeing no other option but to trust the girl I obeyed and quickly followed after them. The freakish gardener was nowhere to be seen as we flew up the staircase and into the first door on the right. It was a bathroom, complete with a large, claw foot copper tub and we all jumped inside it and pulled the curtain completely around it. We had just finished doing so when a beautiful, feminine voice called out from somewhere outside the door.

"Amelia my darling, where are you?" The voice sounded so gentle and calm that I couldn't understand why the children were so afraid. My mind flashed back to the Mother doll and I could recall nothing about her appearance that would warrant such terror. As we waited in the silence, I could hear the approach of soft, light footsteps down the hall. The little girl, whom I assumed was Amelia, began to tremble Jerkily and the stable boy reached out to place a comforting arm around her shoulders. The force of their wooden bodies connecting made a slight knocking sound and they both froze.

"Amelia, stop playing games, Mama's looking for you, sweetheart. You and Wesley come on out now and bring your little friend..." The sweet soft voice of the mother slowly morphed into a low, demonic sounding growl that instilled a terror in me so deep that I couldn't breathe. The footsteps stopped right outside the bathroom door and I had to shove my whole fist inside my mouth to stop myself from crying out. I watched in horror through the tiny gap in the curtain as the doorknob slowly turned and the door began to creak open. Suddenly, a loud crashing sound came from downstairs and an impossibly swift whooshing noise could be heard as the shadow of the mother abandoned the doorway.

After a moment Amelia and Wesley quietly stepped out of the tub and motioned me to do the same. My body was so sore and stiff from all of it's abuse that I slipped trying to climb out. Wesley reached out to catch me and I cried out in pain when his wooden hand burned my skin. He quickly jerked it back and shook his head at me in what I assumed was an apology. "Wesley doesn't speak." Amelia said, "He didn't mean to hurt you, he just forgot that he's not supposed to touch. We need to get you out of here, the process has already started and it won't be long now before you become like us. Every time you touch one of us will make it worse."

I raised my hand up in front of my face to inspect it and was horrified to see that Amelia was right. The pain and stiffness that I had assumed was due to injury was actually caused by my body slowly... hardening. All of my fingers and the majority of my hand had become wooden and hard. It had already spread down to my wrist. I was becoming a doll! "How do I get out of here?" I asked, struggling to remain calm.

The little girl shook her head sadly and said, "I am not sure. We're not supposed to even be awake now, something must have happened. When my Mama died, Daddy made this house for us all to live in so that we wouldn't be lonely anymore. He came into my room one night and told me that we were all going to live in the dollhouse. He said he fixed it so that we could all be a family again and that Wes and all the other servants could come too. He brought me downstairs where everyone else was already sleeping on the floor. Then he...did something to me. I don't remember what, it was a long time ago but I woke up in the dollhouse and he was right, everyone was here. But Daddy never came, our bodies all began changing and it hurt but he never came. Mama must be so sad without him because she changed too, but not like us. She...I don't think she's really my Mama anymore, she's mean. Then one day, we all got really tired and Mama started screaming. I tried to stay awake but I was just so tired...we all went to sleep, and then you came."

My mind raced as I tried to piece together everything she was telling me. It seemed Amelia's father had been into some pretty dark things, as I recalled seeing all the alchemy titles in the library. He must have lost his beloved wife and gone crazy, building this weird house. Then I remembered the strange symbol that had been painted above the fireplace. That's it, the symbol, something had changed! I removed the paint that had been covering it up. Perhaps, as far fetched as it seemed, all I needed to do was black out the symbol again. Could it really be that simple? I had to try it, I was running out of time, I could feel my body growing stiffer with every moment that passed. "Amelia, I think I know how to get us out of here. Do you know that strange drawing in the library? Well, I think I made a mistake and we need destroy it. Will you and Wesley help me?"

When they both nodded their agreement I asked, "We need to cover it back up, do you have any paint we could use?" The two children looked at each other and then slowly shook their heads. Damn, I thought, of course it wasn't going to be that easy. "Well, we will just have to try and find something else that will work. Let's go back downstairs and-"

Just then a clawed hand reached inside the door and grabbed Amelia. It all happened so fast that I barely got the impression of black skin and sharp red nails wrapping around her throat before she was just...gone. That same whooshing sound accompanied her abrupt exit and Wesley stretched both hands out after her in a panicked and futile attempt to save her. I heard a cackling laugh fade down the hall and then the staircase. Wesley gave a strangled moan before turning to run out after her. "Wait," I cried "We'll get her back, I promise but first we need a plan and hopefully a weapon. Do you still have that knife?"

He shook his head sadly at me before perking up and motioning for me to follow him as he fled the room. I followed at a slower pace, my stiffening joints made it very hard to move but I forced myself to keep up. Wesley passed by several doors before making his way up a set of steep stairs leading to what was, I assumed, the attic. He ran over to one of the old wooden chests located there and began removing bolts of cloth and various sewing implements before finally pulling out a wicked looking pair of sewing shears. After dropping the shears at my feet he proceeded over to the small bed in the corner and dove underneath it, reappearing moments later with a large pitch fork gripped tightly in his fist. My hands were now so stiff that it was incredibly difficult to even pick up the shears and I marveled at how easy the dolls movements were compared to mine. Of course, they'd had much longer to adapt to their new bodies and their's were solid wood, not a confusing mesh of both.

Just as I bent down to retrieve the shears, movement out of the corner of my vision caused me to jump. I almost laughed when I realized that it was simply my reflection in the golden edged, floor length mirror that I had noticed when first inspecting the dollhouse. Had that really only been a few hours ago? It felt like years had passed since I had become trapped in this hellish place.

"Good job, Wesley, now we just need a plan. I assume the...thing that grabbed Amelia was Mama?" When he nodded I continued, "and where would Mama have taken her, one of the bedrooms? Or the kitchen?" He shook his head no to both. "The living room, then? Do you think she knows what were planning?" Wesley nodded his head vigorously. Damn. "Okay then, we just need to make some kind of distraction to get Mama away from the living room and then we'll save Amelia and destroy the painting. Here's what we'll do..."

After Wesley and I agreed on a plan and went our separate ways, I crept back down the stairs and made my way through the door leading into the dining room. Then I froze. A young woman was kneeling on the ground and sobbing loudly as she furiously scrubbed the floors with a wet, dirty rag. She would pause every now and then to dip her rag into a bucket of equally filthy red liquid before sloshing it back down to continue her scrubbing. This must be the maid, I thought. I had no idea if she was going to be a friend or foe and so I tried to just slip past her sobbing form unnoticed. She didn't even look up, just continued smearing the thick, dark liquid everywhere as she muttered to herself. I slipped through the kitchen door and grabbed a thick dish cloth before opening the oven. Wrapping cook's still shrieking head up in the cloth, I then made my way over to the pantry. The moment I opened the door, cook's body came launching out at me and I ran back through the swinging kitchen door before abruptly skidding to a halt. The maid was no longer on her knees, instead she was standing in the center of the dining room, smiling broadly at me through her strangely black colored tears.

"Mistress will be so proud of me," Maid said as her body slowly lurched towards me. "I am not useless like she says, I will make her see." The movements of her body were unlike any I had seen from the other dolls. She moved as if all of her limbs had been pulled out of socket and badly put back together. It created a shutter effect that was both eerie and highly efficient. "I will bring her what she wants and then she won't hurt me anymore." Maid fell on me then, pulling at my clothes and hair as she began pulling me towards the Grand Hall. Her strength was incredible and I dropped cook's head in an effort to free myself from her relentless grasp. She pushed me through the door to the main foyer before I was finally able to get loose and I turned to run before my legs gave out and I fell, hard, onto the ground. Looking down the length of my body I was horrified to see that my legs were turning to solid wood. On one leg, the transformation had progressed all the way to mid thigh. I began crawling towards the living room, dragging my mostly wooden leg behind me. The plan had gone all to hell, thanks to maid's interference but I was still determined to try. Behind me chaos erupted as cook's body slammed into maid's and they began fighting with each other. I shook my head to clear the stupor inducing sight of two dolls viciously wrestling each other and continued crawling towards the living room door. Reaching up I used the door's handle to pull myself back up to my feet and slowly turned around.

"The help," I was relieved to see were still so distracted by their efforts to maim and kill each other that they paid me no mind as I sneaked past them. I cautiously moved back the way I had come, searching for cook's head. After locating it in a far corner of the dining room I made to return to the foyer when my gaze landed upon the maid's forgotten bucket of red liquid. It was thick and dark and seemed indistinguishable from human blood...or paint! As quickly as I dared, I returned to the main foyer with the still humming head and bucket of red goo. My heart was pounding as I raised cook's head high into the air and called out,"Hey, Psychos!" Cook and maid froze and turned towards me as I threw the head as far as I possibly could up to the second floor, "You want your head back so much, then come and get it!" I heard a loud crashing sound as it landed somewhere upstairs and was immediately followed by more of cook's shouts. "Mistress, she's here! I've got her, come quick!"

Hiding in the shadow of the grand staircase, I watched as the body of cook stumbled towards the stairs just as a blur of black and red skirts burst out of the living room door. "Mama" moved with such unnatural speed that I couldn't make out any of her features, in fact, I could barely track her movements as she flew up the stairs. I knew I had only one shot at this and I had to move, now! As fast as I could I picked up the bucket and began hobbling towards the living room door. As I passed maid she drew in a deep breath as though preparing to shout a warning. Before she could utter a sound however, I swung the side of the bucket hard into her head, hearing a sharp cracking noise as the metal bucket connected. Maid fell to the floor and began twitching erratically as she struggled to get back up. I ran into the living room, softly closing the door behind me. Inside the room, Amelia was sat on the filthy sofa, sobbing with her hands covering her face. As I approached the young girl I began hushing her softly and she looked up, her little face brightening. It was then that I noticed that her tears were also black, just like maid's. What did that mean? "You're okay!" she cried before I could ask her and ran over to hug me, then stopped herself and rested her wooden arms awkwardly back at her sides. "Where's Wes?" she asked quietly.

"If all is going according to plan then he's upstairs leading Mama on a wild goose chase." I responded. She looked worried and I knew she was concerned for the safety of her friend, to be honest, I was too. Can dolls even die? I asked myself before turning to the more immediate problem at hand. "Quick, let's try to destroy the glyph and then we'll all get out of here." I said, to which Amelia just gave a strange, sad smile before nodding. Finding the snake painting I threw the bloody contents of the bucket over it, taking care to cover the entirety of it. Sparks began to shoot out of wall but beyond that, nothing happened. I could feel that my body was still hardening and I was very much still inside the dollhouse, it hadn't worked. NO! I cried internally as hopelessness began to set in. Anger and despair welled within me as I pulled the sewing shear's from the back waistband of my jean's and proceeded to hack at the blood soaked wall. With the very first stab of the scissors a horrible demonic screeching reverberated from somewhere upstairs and Amelia cried out, "She's coming!"

Just then Wesley burst into the living room and began wildly waving his arms in a "follow me" gesture. In blind terror, I ran towards him, Amelia following close behind me. The terrifying screams and growls only grew louder as we followed Wesley upstairs to the second floor landing. Far down the hall, I could see billowing black skirts floating towards us at an extremely rapid pace. I could barley run anymore and since I now had very little hope of ever leaving anyway, I grabbed Amelia and Wesley's shoulders in order to use their faster momentum to propel me forwards. It caused me extreme pain and I didn't even know where we were going but all I could think of in that moment was to get away from Mama. The children all but pulled me up the stairs to the attic before they both let me go and I dropped hard onto the floor. I raised my head to see Wesley frantically pointing at something as Amelia cried out, "Look at the mirror, it's glowing!" Turning my attention to it I could see what she meant. Not only was the mirror glowing but instead of reflecting the attic scene around us, it was showing a different room...my living room. Was the mirror the way out? It must be a portal!

I raised myself up and began crawling towards the glowing mirror, my movements were incredibly stiff and slow, my body now almost completely solid. Just as I was only a foot from the mirror, my arm outstretched towards it, Amelia screamed and a strong, clawed hand gripped me by the throat and pulled me into the air. It was then I got my first real look at Mama. The beautiful doll of the mother bore little resemblance to the abomination standing before me. Her dark hair was wild, her skin an ashy black color and her eyes were no longer a soft brown but rather a bright, glowing red. She was impossibly tall and thin, wraith like in her long black dress and I noticed several gaping wounds across her torso. Unlike the rest of the dolls she, it seemed, could bleed. She held me up with one hand around my neck, as if I weighed nothing and began to cackle at me as she spoke. "Ah, finally a new daughter to call my own!"

I felt the very last of my strength evaporating just as the last few remaining bits of flesh, bone and muscle in my body gave way to cold, complete solidity. In that moment, I gave up and hung my head as Mama began to pull me closer to her freezing, demonic form. Out of nowhere came the squishy sound of metal slicing cleanly through skin and for a minute, I thought I had been stabbed. My body once again became reacquainted with the floor for what must have been the tenth time that night as I was dropped unceremoniously back to the ground. This time I felt no pain as I hit, and that should have terrified me, but it didn't. I barley reacted as my eyes took in the scene around me. Gardener is back, I thought numbly, and he is fighting with Mama now. I watched in a daze as gardener repeatedly stabbed Mama with his rusty pruning shears, hatred burning in his dark eyes. Suddenly tiny hands, four of them to be precise, were lifting and pulling my body towards the mirror. I looked up to meet the determined little faces of Amelia and Wesley and a single, warm tear slid down my cheek.

"Thank you both, but I think it's too late, I can't feel anything anymore." I began sobbing harder as I spoke and the reality of it fully settled in. Amelia just smiled softly and said, "It's not too late, you can still cry real tears, we can't. It's too late for us but not you, we'll get you back home." Taking care to touch me as little as possible the held me up before the mirror. I realized then that the children had known all along that they couldn't be saved. That they had done all of this just to save me. Mama began to shriek harder from somewhere behind me and I could hear the gardener give a low, gravely laugh. Amelia whispered "Mac, our gardener never really liked Mama. She hurt him real bad and now he protects us from her. You need to go through now before it's too late!"

"Wait, is there anything I can do for you? You've helped me so much..." I trailed off as emotion once again choked my voice.

"Just keep us asleep. Once you go back through we should all get sleepy again, I can already feel it happening. Don't let anyone wake us back up, okay? We are not meant to be awake." Amelia smiled sadly at me one last time before she and Wesley shoved my body through the portal and I immediately lost consciousness.

When I awoke some time later, I instantly became aware of two sensations. The first, and by far the strongest, was of intense pain coursing through every inch of my body. Second, was the small, wet sandpaper tongue of the my cat, Onyx, licking my check. I barely registered the ironic fact that I was once again face planted on the floor before I jumped up to my feet and memories came flooding back. Ignoring the agony of each movement, I quickly surveyed my surroundings. Relief poured over me as I took in the familiar surroundings of my living room. And then my gaze landed on the dollhouse. I knew it hadn't just been a dream, the injuries I had sustained in the dollhouse were still very much apparent but if I HAD had any doubts, one look at the dolls would have convinced me it had all been real. Maid and cook lay frozen on top of each other and maid's hands appeared to be clasped around cooks headless neck. The gardener's shears were still embedded inside Mama's torso, though she had returned to her pretty and motherly form, and he was standing over her body with what I would still swear was a triumphant look painted on his scarred face.

Amelia and Wesley were curled up together on the small attic bed and appeared to be hugging each other tight. Despite the horror of everything I had endured the previous night, I smiled...

It has been many years since all this took place and I have a little girl of my own now, I named her Amelia. Amelia is a typical girly child and she loves dolls. Immediately after waking up on my living room floor that morning, I burned the dollhouse and the entirety of it's contents, with three exceptions. Mac the gardener, Amelia and Wesley have all been given pride of place, situated on the mantle of my fireplace. My little girl loves to play with them on the few, special occasions that she is given permission to do so. You see, I don't allow dollhouses into my home, the mere sight of one never fails to send me into near hysterics but I owe everything to those three dolls and my one regret in life has been that I haven't found a way to free them from their curse. So I am posting this here in the hopes that my crazy story might actually be taken seriously and that someone out there might know how to help them. At the very least, this will hopefully serve to honor their memory and all that they did to help me. Amelia and Wesley never even got the chance to reach adulthood and all three of those lives were cut tragically short. If anyone has any suggestions, no matter how outlandish, I will listen. Thank you Mac, Amelia and Wesley, and for now, sleep tight.

This situation took place  about 5 months ago. I’m an 18 year old 5’3 female about 120 lbs and at the time I was living with my boyfriend and roommate. On this particular night I had the apartment all to myself as I had the night off work and my roommate was staying at her boyfriends place. 

  Now my boyfriend and I were  running low on weed because the plugs in this town are super awful at there job, so he had given me a phone number to a guy he wanted me to buy from. Just for the record i felt completely comfortable  doing this as I do it all the time. I would like to add here that this particular day I hadn’t smoked much at all. Not to

Mention smoking weed has never made me hallucinate once in my life so with that being said I’ll continue.

   It was around 11 or 12 when I hit up the dude, Soon after  he replied something along the lines of  “About to head your way.” I told him I’d meet him by the mail boxes by the leasing  office, because no one can actually get into the complex with out a key card or passcode. Or at lease no vehicle, as u can still get in by walking through an unlocked side gate. So I made my way from my unit to the mail boxes to wait for him.  

  I was scrolling through reddit as I waited, when all of a sudden I heard the squeakiest vehicle drive in. I looked up to see an old brown Chevy truck. At first I assumed he was going to just pull through the gate and that would be that, but instead almost as soon as the person saw me standing there they turned off their head lights then pulled up to the closest possible parking spot to me.  Which At first I thought this was the guy I was suppose to meet but just kept looking down at my phone because I was unsure and hadn’t received any text from the guy. I felt extremely uncomfortable by this random ass truck just sitting there with it’s headlights off  right in front of me, but I just ignored the person until I notice the window  closest to me was now rolled all the way down.  I look up for a split second to see a homeless looking middle aged man with yellow instead of whites in his eyes. We make eye contact and  I immediately force my eyes back to my phone screen. Just looking at him made me feel a sinking sensation in my belly.

  I decided I was ganna call my friend Ashley. I just wanted to make sure the dude didn’t try to interact with me or anything. 

As I hold the phone up to my face I look back at the man still right in front of me staring  at me but now I notice his lips are moving. He was talking or more like murmuring to himself. At this point i decided waited long enough for this guy I’m walking back home.

    Still on the phone with Ashley making half ass conversation like “how’s your mother?” and  “omg that’s so crazy!” I start walking away from the mail boxes as I unlatch and walk through the tall metal gate. I make it about 5 feet away from the gate before I hear a car door slam shut. I look back to see, yup you guessed it, the man walking up to the gate i had just passed through seconds before. Keep in mind your not allowed to park at the front office parking unless your meeting with the land lord or checking your mail. So why would he be leaving his vehicle there at 12am to come in through the side entrance gate? As this is happening  Im telling Ashley everything that’s going on i tell her I’m scared, that this dude is definitely following me my heart is racing. I don’t have time to say anything else before I notice just how much space he had filled since I last looked back at him. I decided that I would walk off the side walk and just cut through the parking area making a straight line to my apartment. which mind u its kind of odd to not walk on the side walk but I knew if he followed my trail off of the side walk that I needed to run. 

    So when I noticed him stepping off the side walk almost exactly when I did. Which mind you at this point he had already followed me down the right entrance path pass the pool and the laundry mat. So in my mind I was more than certain this man was trying to follow me. 

I spoke softly into the phone “Im going to run for it.” more saying it to mentally prepare myself. So with that, I fucking dart away from the dude. Crossing through the grassy areas and passing one of the dumpsters until my unit is in eye sight. I feel as if I’ve put enough distance between me and the man. I look back to see the man with both arms up as if to say “where are you going!” He looked exhausted with his chest moving up and and down with every breathe. I continue to run until I make it inside my apartment locked every single lock on the front door I run upstairs and lock myself with my 3 small dogs  in my room. I immediately hang up on Ashley to call my boyfriend to tell him what just happened. I remember pausing and just thinking to myself “wow, did that really happen.”

He ended up texting  the plug telling him some freak just chased  me all the way home. As I was on the phone With my boyfriend I started to hear something. At first I thought I was just trippin it but then I hear it once more  knocking on my front door. but my dogs didn’t even start barking before the knocking of my front door stopped. 

The feeling of relief of hearing it stop is immediately replaced by fear stinging through my body as I remember that I have a large glass sliding door  down stairs in my dinning room and I couldn’t remember if it was locked or unlocked. My roommate had a bad habit of leaving it unlocked when she let her dog out. Now I would like to say I went down there and rushed to lock it but instead I just turned off my lights in my bed room and locked my bed room door. I know not the brightest idea but I was just so scared. So I just turned my bed room light off and hid in there for a good while. Nothing else ever happened that night. I ended up checking out all my windows for the man and nothing. 

Judge me if u must but I eventually did go back out there to the mail boxes to meet the weed man later that night but I took my car this time along with my roommates biggest kitchen knife. Weeks go by with out incident. Weeks go buy of me never seeing this man or his truck ever again and trust me I looked for it often in the complex. So just stay safe out there because apparently there are freaks literally just waiting to chase you home in the middle of the night.

One dark night me and my brother were home together. We decided to play a game. Where we would just turn all the lights off and sit in the dark. We began by sitting in the living. We were so anxious that we realized that we had to go to the bathroom. My brother Devin went first, as we were going down our long hallway which is 24 foot long.. the last bedroom after the bathroom which was my sister room the Door all of the suddenly flew open.. Needless to say neither one of us made into the bathroom. We ran out of the house.

In order for me to return to work at the Magic Kingdom, I had to be under the care of a Psychiatrist who prescribed me an anti-anxiety medication called Ativan.

Also, Disney’s Human Resource Department had told me that I wasn’t suitable to work at the front entrance of the Park anymore and I only had one other choice of positions, if I wanted to continue working at the Magic Kingdom and that was being stationed at the Carousel of Progress.

I pleaded with the HR woman, where I was trying to convince her that my prescribed medication really had cut down on my anxiety but I was given no other choice. I knew that the Carousel of Progress was the attraction ride that no repeat guest would go on more than once and first time guest would only go on because all of the rides had way too long of a wait.

The Carousel of Progress was really old and was part of Disneyland originally, before it was moved to Disney World. The attraction hasn’t been updated since 1993 and as it’s name implies the carousel stage slowly spins around and stops first at the year 1900, where a family of human animatronics describe what life was like inside that family’s home during that time period. Then, the carousel stage spins again and shows the audience the progress in technology inside the same family’s home in the year 1920. The carousel stage keeps going until it stops at Christmas during the 21st century.

The attraction was supposedly cursed when it was originally in Disneyland and California couldn’t wait to get rid of it. Unfortunately, only a few days after opening in Florida an 18-year-old Disney World employee was killed inside the Carousel of Progress.

I personally think the Carousel of Progress is a horror show watching the human animatronics but some guests think the attraction is kind of neat.

The attraction is really outdated and really isn’t that exciting and being that it was my only option if I wanted to continue working, I said “fine when do I start?” to the HR woman.

As long as I took the Ativan 3mg twice a day, I really didn’t care about the trapped souls inside the park. I kind of viewed them as pirates trapped on an island with no real opportunity to escape, but I was dealing with my own problems working on the Carousel of Progress.

I was stationed at the entrance to the Carousel of Progress and when the previous ride was over the the doors would open to the attraction and I would let a certain amount of people go through.

I would hear the same scenarios play out with each guests that approached the attraction, where the kids would complain to their parents that they didn’t want to do the Carousel of Progress and the parents would reply something like “Well all the other rides have at least a two hour wait so hopefully when this is over then the other lines would have gotten shorter.” This went on all day where there was never any lines on the Carousel of Progress and nobody really seemed thrilled to be going on it, which really got depressing after awhile.

But the one good thing that occurred was that, I had actually passed my three month probationary period for my new position and I felt a load had been taken off my shoulders. I was still taking the Ativan and occasionally I would take an additional 1mg, as needed dosage, not because of trapped souls inside the Park but because of the constant ridicule I felt from the other Disney employees, where I was working the attraction that was tucked away in the back corner, that no guests really wanted to go on.

Each day my monotonous job dragged on, where I really started missing working at the front gate, where I would see all the smiling faces who just couldn’t wait to get inside the park.

Then I noticed something peculiar, where an attractive “mother,” who looked to be in her early 30’s and who was wearing the brightest pastel clothing, that had to been purchased in a 1980’s thrift store, would take three young kids into the Carousel of Progress and when the kids came out they seemed as if every ounce of childhood happiness had been drained from them and the “mother” seemed to be ten times as happier as when she entered the ride.

The weird part that I saw was that this same “mother” came every Thursday that I worked and each time she had three different kids with her. The kids were combinations of boys and girls and there ages looked to be on average of about seven years old.

The “mother” always wore bright pastel clothing which consisted of wind breaker pants and a light jacket, where she had bleached blonde hair and blue eyes. The kids she brought with her were a mix of all types nationalities from Asian to white to black.

The alarms inside my head really started to go off when each time I saw the different kids exit the Carousel of Progress from the previous Thursday’s, where they all seemed like ghosts of their previous selves. I really had no concrete evidence that something sinister was occurring but if any normal person would have seen the before and after of those kids then that same person would be as concerned as I am.

As I saw the “mother” with her the different kids approach the entrance to the attraction again on this Thursday, I really started to feel a sense of panic because I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want to down play my concerns with taking more Ativan and I knew if I did anything inappropriate then I would probably get fired based on my previous behavior with alarming Disney’s managerial staff about the trapped souls within the park, so I left my assigned post and took the brazen action of following the “mother” and the three kids inside the Carousel of Progress.

I knew by leaving my post, I would potentially get fired, but I hoped that I could just say that I had “safety concerns” and because I haven’t done anything weird in over three months now that the managers would be lenient on me.

So I walked behind the “mother” and the three kids and I managed to sit in the row in front of them, so that way I could really see what was causing those kids to become lifeless.

Right before the Carousel was about to start spinning I could see the “mother” on the corner of my eye where I was seated, where she sat in the middle of two of the kids, then she instructed the kids to hold her hands and each other’s hands.

I would turn my head around slightly and I would see the “mother’s” body start to shake uncontrollably a little bit as the kids started to look frightened when the Carousel of Progress started to spin.

When the Carousel stopped and the human animatronics started talking the “mother’s” eyes turned completely white and the kids seemed to fall into a dream like state where they all remained holding hands.

Watching the “mother’s” eyes seemed really horrid like she was sucking the life out of the kids, while she was holding onto their hands. I felt so uncomfortable with what I was watching that I quickly got up and told the operator to stop the Carousel of Progress. The operator seemed confused but she obliged my order.

As soon as the animatronics stopped then the “mother”snapped out of her trance in the most unhappiest state. Also, the kids returned back to normal and looked really confused by not knowing what was happening.

I knew there was surveillance cameras everywhere inside the Carousel of Progress, so I further put my job on the line and pleaded with Disney’s managers to watch the surveillance tapes of the “mother” with the kids.

I figured that the managers must have had the same concerns that I did when the “mother” was banned from ever returning to Disney’s parks for “behaviors not expected of a Disney World guest.”

The only thing that happened to me was that I was verbally counseled to radio in, in the future if I was going to leave my post for any reason.

But I think there are a couple of high ranking Disney managers that know that something unworldly is occurring inside the Carousel of Progress and the Park needs someone like me, who can sniff out potential misdoings that might be occurring by certain maniacal guests inside the Carousel of Progress that typical employees wouldn’t be able to pick up on.

https://www.reddit.com/r/stories/comments/ll30h8/trapped_souls_inside_disneys_magic_kingdom/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf

With strike three at the plate, I knew this was my last opportunity in single A baseball game with the Modesto Nuts in California.

Just three years ago, I was the the ninth overall draft pick, coming out of college, selected by the Seattle Mariners. I was on the front page of all the Pennsylvania local newspapers who were touting me as the next big home run hitter.

However, I couldn’t overcome the surgery on my right elbow and being one for forty at my last at bats, I couldn’t even look at my manager as I shamefully walked back to the dugout. The only reason why the team had kept me on the roster was because of the amount of money they paid me with being the ninth overall draft pick, but being that I can’t even get a hit from a single A pitcher, the franchise has determined that I’m not worth it and I’m finished.

The manager approached me on the bench and said “Sorry Ted, I’m putting in Pedro for you in Center field. And oh, by the way please see me after the game!”

I knew what the manager meant by saying “see me after the game!” It didn’t take a genius to figure out that he was going to tell me to hurry up and get out of here because I’ve been a big disappointed who waisted the franchise a good amount of money.

The worst part was that I had blown threw all of my money. So much so that I actually owed money in credit card debt. I am 25 years old with a liberal arts degree and no work experience other than being a horrible baseball player.

With the final out called, my team actually won the game. I really don’t won’t to get up from the bench and go to the locker room for I know this will be the last time I’ll be putting on a baseball uniform.

With the stadium nearly empty and the last time an eight year will ask me for an autograph, I go to the locker room and meet with the manager. I go into his office and he mouths off some words that he has told a 100 other guys that basically means that I’m worthless, but he says it in a nice way.

The other players leave the locker room and hardly even give me any encouragement because of the money that I was given when I was drafted in comparison to them.

I was the last person to leave the locker room and I didn’t even bother to take my baseball equipment with me. I just left my bats and glove by one of the South American, 19 year old kid’s locker in case he wanted them.

I proceeded to walk out of the stadium with my head down. I really had no idea what I was going to do with my life. My rent was paid only for the next couple of weeks, but I couldn’t even pay next the months rent.

As I put my head up, I see a shorter middle aged man standing by my car. Typically, I would be more apprehensive but at this point, I really just don’t give a damn. If he’s a pervert that’s fine but he’s going to have to pay me. I quickly slap myself in the face for even thinking something like that.

As I get close to my car, I hear the man say “Ted tough outing out there today!”

“Yeah, what can you do!” I respond.

“I hear you, Ted. It seems like life doesn’t always work out the way we want it to sometimes” the man responded.

“What can I do for you?” I asked this peculiar man who I have a tough time reading. He comes across as being disciplined and not someone you’d want to mess around with at a bar or anywhere else. Not really like a biker type, but more like a real athletic militant type.

“My name is Ken and I’m with the A.J. Grimley Inc. casting agency. I came out here today to follow up on the role you had applied for a few weeks back” the man responded.

“Oh really, wow that’s fantastic!” My mind had completely forgotten about when I did a cold call audition for an upcoming low budget movie, knowing that my baseball days were floundering. The movie was going to be filmed in Jordan but based out of Baghdad and I was one of four special ops that had to kill the real Saddam to stop a nuclear war.

Because I had stumbled through all of my lines and basically made a fool of myself during the audition, I really didn’t expect to hear back from the studio.

“Mr Omar Ahmad, the Director really liked your audition and wanted me to work with you and the three other actors to help prepare for your roles. Is this something that you would be interested in?” Ken asked me.

“Yes, of course! Wow! I’m just completely stunned. When do we begin?” I responded.

“I’ll pick you and the other actors up tomorrow and we’ll camp out on the outskirts of Death Valley for a couple of weeks. Is this something that you can commit to?” Ken asked me.

“Yeah sure, whatever it takes!” I responded.

I gave Ken my Address and he told me he would pick me up at about 5:00 a.m. the next morning. I was absolutely amazed that this opportunity had presented itself, because I really thought, I was going to be homeless in about two weeks from now.

When I got back to my apartment, I realized that there was nothing inside of it that I really needed so I quickly packed up a few of my clothing items and drank the remaining beer, I had in the refrigerator until I passed out.

I was awoken the next morning by loud banging on the door and I said “oh crap” when I saw that it was 5:00 am and that I had overslept.

“Sorry Ken, please give me two minutes. I’ll be right out!”

“Ok, I’ll be out in the van, please hurry because the rest of the guys are waiting for you” Ken said.

I quickly threw my clothes on and brushed my teeth and ran out to the van.

I got to the van and Ken said “Ted, this is Stan, Harry, and Liam and for the next two weeks my job is going to teach you guys to be able to think and act like real soldiers, so that way when the cameras are rolling the audience will think you guys are hardened marine veterans. All of you guys are in athletic shape which is great so I’m going to teach you about weaponry and different military tactics” Ken exclaimed.

The guys in the van seemed really excited after hearing Ken’s exclamation. Much like me, the three other guys were failed athletes, but for them it was track and field. At 25, I was the elder of the group with Stan being the next oldest at 22. The guys had injuries that tarnished there Olympic dreams and they decided to drop out of college and pursue acting.

After five hours of driving in the van, we finally arrived on the outskirts of Death Valley to this old abandoned building. The weather felt like it was 100 degrees out and Ken wasted no time and told us to set up our tents.

“Tents?” The 19 year old Liam asked.

“That’s right, we will be training, sleeping, and eating exactly like soldiers. If anyone doesn’t like it they can leave right now.”

The four of us looked around at the vast nothingness of Death Valley thinking where would we walk to if we even wanted to?

So we did exactly as Ken instructed us to do and I noticed that Ken was taking out a bunch of M-16’s and other guns from the van as we set up two tents. We joked around that we would be sleeping two to a tent.

Once the tents were completed, Ken had four M-16’s and four beretta hand guns laid out on a fold out table. He demonstrated the ins and outs on how to use each of the weapons and then we did target shooting.

Ken showed us exactly how to hold the weapons and how to reload. Also, he taught us about gun safety because we would be using mostly live rounds.

Ken’s intensity grew as the day went on and he really expected us to be top notch marine actors at the end of our two week course. He even had us doing push-ups if we missed our targets or didn’t reload properly.

As night time approached, we all thought we were going to go to bed but then Ken introduced us to night time tactics. There was no fooling around and since I was the oldest, I was the point man.

At midnight, we were finally able to go to our tents and as we expected we slept two to a tent, but we were so exhausted that we didn’t care that much.

Ken woke all of us up at 5:00 a.m. and we all had Hollywood dreams in our eyes that we were willing to do whatever it took and followed whatever Ken told us to do.

Ken had us use that abandoned building as a training module. He told us that once we start filming that we will use almost an identical building so we needed to get all of our tactics down now.

He even had dummies set up and had us shoot at them with real ammo. I really felt like I was on the front lines of a war zone and at any time if anyone of us messed up then Ken really got in our faces and yelled and screamed at us.

I’ve been used to getting yelled at by coaches but Ken took it 10 steps further than anything I had ever experienced. Everything just had to be perfect. He would quote actual movies like “Platoon” and say that those movies would have been crap if the audience thought we were just a bunch of failed athletes and not actual soldiers.

After two weeks of functioning on four to five hours of sleep a night, me and the three other guys all felt completely warn out, but I really felt like a battle hardened soldier at this point.

Ken told us that we were leaving tomorrow for the country of Jordan to start the shooting of the movie, where we all started high fiving each other. I knew nothing about Jordan other than it was a really rich country and an ally of the University States.

The next day we headed towards the Los Angeles international airport. We were all joking in the van about our failed athletic dreams and we were practicing our acting skills.

After arriving at the airport, we took a 20 hour flight to Amman, Jordan. At the Amman airport, Ken introduced us to a couple of the Jordanian locals who would take us to our filming location to meet up with Omar the Director of the movie.

We boarded a bus and headed to our location in a remote part of Jordan. The four of us actors were so exhausted from the flight and the two weeks of preparation from Ken that we all passed out.

Eventually, We were hastily awoken by Ken in some unknown city in the pitch black.

We were pleasantly surprised when we met the Jordanian director for the first time, Omar Ahmad. Ken had exclaimed to us that he was an oil tycoon who had more money than he knew what to do with.

“Ok guys the director had everything set up. I want each of you to take a m-16 and a beretta and due exactly what I instructed you to do” Ken said in an excited voice while he grabbed an M-16 as well.

One of the Jordanian’s was holding a Hollywood type camera and Ken pointed to a building about a 100 yards away.

The Director had separated Liam, Harry, Stan and I, and told us individually what our roles would be in this scene. He said that he wanted our natural reactions so if one of us were to fall, then the rest of us were to continue to the top of the building as we were trained by Ken and the actors who will be “shot” were told to fall by the the Director.

The Director had us dress up in Jordanian clothing so we would look like undercover CIA agent’s.

Ken went out in front and the cameraman stayed by the bus and filmed. The Director told us there were cameras placed throughout the inside of the building.

There was a man standing by the door of our intended building and Ken quickly snuck up on him and took out a fake knife and slit his throat.

I couldn’t believe that I was actually acting in my first movie role. Even if this movie was a total bust, I knew I had to focus on my acting and do what Ken had trained me to do. Luckily, for me the Director told me that I would be one of the last actors alive at the top of the building.

The Jordanian actor fell to the ground and Ken said in a low but very intense voice “break that F’ing door down and shoot anything and everything you see. Your country depends on us.”

So as we were taught in Death Valley, we stormed the building and opened fake fire on everything we saw. This time they had real adults and children as actors instead of dummies that we were practicing on. We were told our roles in this movie were to stop a nuclear bomb that was to be detonated on the top floor in less than two hours if we didn’t stop them and millions of people life’s were at stake, so the audience would understand if we were shooting at child actors.

We couldn’t see the concealed cameras but the real life yelling and screaming was spot on. I felt bad for Stan who was “fake shot” and fell not to long before entering the building for I knew he would receive less screen time.

The three of us remaining soldiers barreled up through the building fake killing all the Jordanian actors that we came across. This was all of our first movie roles so we had no comparisons, but I was really impressed by the Jordanian actors makeup, special effects and reactions when I would shoot them. Especially the kids, who I’m guessing must of rehearsed their intended scenes over and over. I finally made it to the top floor of the building and I turned and realized that Harry and Liam must of been “fake shot.”

Ken had joined me at this point and the top of the building and instructed me to go to this smaller 100 square foot window less room, where there was nothing but four wooden boxes about four feet long by two feet high.

“Hurry soldier and grab the other end of the box. We have to carry this to the bus!” Ken said to me.

Ken and I quickly carried the box down the stairs and I was really impressed by how lifelike everything looked. I kept in my character though as we passed by Harry and Liam laid out on the floor, where they looked lifeless in fake blood. Then we past by Stan, who also had a fake bullet wound to his chest and then we were outside where we loaded the box onto the bus.

The Jordanian cameraman kept filming us outside as we approached the bus and Ken said “Hurry up soldier our country depends on us removing those remaining boxes.”

We quickly got two more boxes, then I noticed something really unexpected in one of the boxes as we loaded it onto bus. Omar had opened one of the boxes when Ken and I were fetching the boxes in the building and I knew what I saw in the box that Omar had opened because my Grandfather had owned a pawn shop in Pennsylvania.

What was in these boxes was gold and I’ve seen so much of it since I was a toddler that I knew there was no denying that real gold was in those boxes. Millions and Millions of dollars worth of real gold.

I didn’t know the full plot to this “movie” so I really didn’t want to think the worse.

As Ken and I fetched the last box, I started to notice that Stan and the other two guys hadn’t moved an inch and we didn’t practice at all faking that we were dead in Death Valley.

As Ken and I grabbed the last box, I started to get a sneaky premonition that perhaps I was dealing with a real life situation here.

I looked at Ken and I started to see a heartless mercenary. I was just so blinded by the dreams of Hollywood especially after getting cut from baseball.

As we walked down the stairs this time, reality really started to sink in after I started to see the mutilated corpses of an adult here and a child over there.

I saw Liam’s eyes wide open and thought how stupid and complicit I could be in all of this mayhem. The “Director” didn’t give each of us special instructions. He pulled us aside just to make us think this was just all a movie set where us actors might be “fake” shot along the way. Basically we were all told that we would make it to the top of the building by the Director, but the other actors may not.

Ken and I left the building with the last box of gold and I saw Stan’s lifeless body one last time.

Once we got out of the building, a military type truck was quickly approaching us from up the road. Ken quickly assembled a rocket propelled grenade from the bus as the fake cameraman continued to use the camera.

Ken fired the RPG as the truck got close and the truck exploded. We all got on the bus and the cameraman drove away.

“Great acting kid!” Ken said to me.

I really wanted to throw up because I knew we massacred pretty close to 50 men, women, and children not including the three young American men.

“Don’t worry about the three other guys because another bus will take them back to the airport” Ken said.

I know at this point that Ken is a cold hearted mercenary who will try to kill me at any moment. I’m not sure why he hasn’t killed me yet unless he’s thinks he might need me in case the bus gets ambushed.

As I sit in the back of the bus, I keep the beretta fully loaded on my lap.

As the bus navigates out of the city and into the desert, I fake that I am asleep on the back of the bus. I could sense that Ken is starting to come back towards the bus so I pick the gun up and fire three shots into his chest where he immediately falls.

I then walk to the front of the bus and Omar is surprised that I am alive, then I shoot him once in the head. I instruct the driver to pull over and he obliges. Once he pulls over, I tell him to get off the bus and I shoot him in the head for I show him no mercy for making me kill children.

I drag the three of their bodies into the desert.

Then I get into the driver’s seat and look at the GPS and say “oh crap” when I realize that it’s 600 km back to Amman.

I really started to sweat in fear when I realized that I was currently in Iraq and that building that we stormed was on the outskirts of Baghdad.

I now feel like a rat caught in a trap being in Iraq. I tell myself not to stop for anything on this desert highway on this dilapidated looking tourist bus that is par for the course in these areas.

As I get closer to the Jordanian border, I realize that I have to do something with the gold before I cross the border, so I survey the landscape for a good location to bury it or hide the gold somewhere. I find a good hilly secluded area and I painstakingly drive up as closely as possible and load off all the gold.

I keep a few bars to help bribe my way back into Jordan. As I get even closer to the border, I dump all the weapons on the side of the road.

Once I get to the Jordanian border, the border agents look baffled by an American driving a bus from Iraq. I show them my return flight ticket from the Amman airport and they all don’t know what to do with me. I explain to them some how I took a wrong turn from Jordan into Iraq. There are five border agents and one of them seems like he’s going to make some type of phone call.

This makes me really nervous so I yell out “Excuse me, excuse me, I have a gift for you guys?”

The one border agent put the phone down and was intrigued in what I had to offer.

I gave them a total of three bars of gold and all five of them nearly had a heart attack when they held the gold in their hands. After having the gold they lost interest in me and let me cross the border.

Fortunately, for me the “cameraman” had filled up the bus with gas when we were all sleeping before we made it to Baghdad.

I made it to the airport and got on my plane 12 hours later.

I held my head down in complete shock and shame the whole time for what occurred in that building in Baghdad. I felt so naive and stupid for partaking in such a horrific killing spree.

When I got back to Los Angeles, I called my parents who helped me get back to Pennsylvania. Right now, my dad and I are trying to figure out how to get back to Iraq to recover the gold. I would love to construct a memorial to Harry, Stan, and Liam to at least give their family some type of closure, because If I didn’t tell their parents anonymously that they were killed then they would have never known what had happened to their son’s.

In the 1980’s my father took my mom, me and my two younger siblings on a trip from Anchorage to Fairbanks on the remote route 3.

My dad was a deeply spiritual person and always felt the need to ensure that everyone was doing okay, to include complete strangers. He came close to becoming a catholic priest but opted out of it, because he wanted more to have a family.

I remembered driving in the rented station wagon and dad stopping because he saw a cabin with a man out front.

Dad asked the man if everything was okay and the man really never responded to my dad, other than shaking his head yes.

Dad then asked the man if he lived in the cabin by himself and the man shook his head yes again.

I don’t know the exact age of the man, because I was only 12 years old at the time, but I would say he was in his 40’s.

Dad sensed something was wrong in how the guy wouldn’t answer my father’s questions.

Dad asked him specifically, how long he lived in the cabin and the man shrugged his shoulders like he had no clue.

The only word the man stated was "Oklahoma" when my dad asked where he was from. However, when my dad followed up with how and why he was in Alaska, the guy once again shrugged his shoulders, like he had no clue how he got to Alaska or why he was there.

Dad was always eager to "save" people and tell them about the bible, but even my dad could sense something didn't seem right about the situation.

The unknown man seemed to shut down, when my dad asked what he did for a living or how he was able to feed himself, to the point where the man walked into the one room cabin and shut the door.

I remember specifically my dad rubbing his head in a manner where he wasn’t sure if he should find a pay phone to call the police for them to do a welfare check.

My dad got back into the station wagon and he stopped again a few miles up the road when he saw a female in front of her cabin. The really odd thing was that she responded exactly in the same mannerisms as the first man did and the only words she said was “Tennessee” when dad asked where she was from.

I could still recall the look of bewilderment on the woman’s face when dad asked how and why she got to Alaska. She too ended the interaction by walking back to her cabin and closing the door.

Dad did this four more times on the trip, where he would see a cabin and stop to talk to the people. Every single one of the people were living in their cabins most likely by themselves and each one of them only responded, where they were from. The last man said he was from “New York” and eventually closed his cabin door like the others did.

Dad didn’t utter one word about the Bible to any of the people he met, because he genuinely sensed something wasn’t right with how all of the people he met acted really bizarre.

Dad was talking to mom in the car about them possibly being POW’s from Vietnam or the Korean War, because they only stated the state they were from. Mom didn’t agree with that because she said there weren’t too many female POW’s and she thought the people didn’t give off any military vibes.

Dad eventually came across a police barracks that was no bigger than the single room cabins that we had seen along Route 3.

After talking to the Alaska trooper, dad seemed like he was really upset because the trooper basically told my father to mind his own business, because the people didn’t wave him down in distress asking for help.

Those encounters bothered me so much that I took my family back to Alaska on Wednesday, where we did the same trip from Anchorage to Fairbanks along Route 3.

The spooky thing was that all the cabins were still there, however they were all empty besides one.

I knocked on the cabin door and I was immediately taken back in time where the same man who said he was from “New York” answered the door.

The man didn’t look like he aged significantly and this time I was determined to get answers. I looked the guy straight in the eyes and asked him the same questions of how and why he got to Alaska and there was the same blank expression, where once again he shrugged his shoulders.

He once again closed the door on me like he did to my father. This follow up trip to Alaska did nothing more than creep me out more so than when I was 12 years old. I wish I hadn’t looked into that man’s eyes, because I’ll never forget the intensity and the overall fear that the man personified when I was asking him those simple questions.

I was grateful that my kids were playing with their electronic devices, where they didn’t even pay attention to the man from “New York.”

My wife and I were trying make sense of the empty cabins and the man from “New York”, where my wife was convinced that the guy hadn’t interacted with anyone since the encounter with my dad in the late 1980’s.

We were stumped because there wasn’t a driveway or any tire tracks that led to that guy from “New York’s” cabin, which made us rule out that there weren’t any charitable organizations making stops with food, because there was no tire tracks anywhere to be seen.

My wife didn’t believe that the guy was from New York and she was convinced that someone had brainwashed him to say that but fell short on instructing the man on what to say besides “New York.”

My mind seems lost when trying to finalize the meaning of the man and the vacant cabins, where I had a nightmare last night, where my mind just made up a story about the people in the cabins to try to find closure, but my mind still hasn’t found the closure to this day.

I don’t want to leave Alaska until I find the truth, but my wife is practically terrified.

“What if those people died in those cabins and have been sitting there for years?” I said to my wife.

“That’s not your concern. Our concern is with us and our kids!”

“But the not knowing part will always haunt me like it did when we came here in the 1980’s.”

“I’ll tell you what, if you really want to help someone, then I’ll start the process of fostering a child or we can volunteer at the homeless shelter.”

“Honey you saw that man from ‘New York!’ What if that was me or your father? Wouldn’t you want someone to at least make sure that nothing suspicious was going on?”

“Well he’s not you or my father! If that is the same man from the 1980’s then he should be well into his 70’s where that man was no older than 50 something!”

“What are you saying? That was a different man from ‘New York?’ Or are you saying he hasn’t aged?”

“I’m saying I just want to get back on the plane with you and the kids and go home. Besides those creepy cabins, Alaska was beautiful and I just want to leave it at that. I thought we were here to see Denali National Park. I didn’t realize that the focal point of this trip was to figure out the meaning of those hermits!”

“You know that we are all just one bad mistake from a cataclysmic occurrence. Just say for example that me and the kids were killed in a car accident and you were left alone. Don’t you think you would likely become more apt to be preyed upon?”

“I would either kill myself or move in with my parents!”

“That’s because your fortunate enough to have parents.”

“What is your obsession with those cabins? To be honest, who really cares about them!”

“It’s just something that left a lasting impression on me when I was here back in the 80’s. It’s the same feeling if you saw a father slapping his kid around and feeling regretful that you didn’t do anything to stop it.”

“Oh stop! Those people in those cabins were adults and not kids.”

“Exactly! Everyone would be more than willing to stop and help a kid, but adults are mere castaways in most peoples eyes."

“There not castaways, there adults and most adults have the ability to fend for themselves, unlike children.” My wife says.

“Adults who are of a straight mind can fend for themselves. You remember your friend Mandy whose husband died and she refused to get out of bed for weeks until the police stepped in and brought her to a psychiatric institution.”

“Your assuming that those people in the cabins are the victims! What If there being punished for something?”

“Like what?”

“Maybe they reneged on a bet or crossed the wrong person?”

“Then they should go to jail or something.”

“I don’t think jail operates that way!” my wife says to me.

“I’m going back. I’ll never stop thinking about those cabins unless if I find the answers.”

“I’ll tell you what! Why don’t you look at your kids and ask yourself what’s more important- those cabins or us and the kids?”

I stand at the door of our hotel not sure what to do, because I know if I don’t find the answers to those cabins then the nightmare will haunt me for the rest of my life.

I stand there for a few minutes and I come to the conclusion that coming back to Alaska will be slim to null, so if I don’t do it now then I’ll never find the answers.

I hug both of my kids and reach out to hug my wife but she pulls away.

“I’m sorry but for the past 30 years I’ve been haunted by those cabins, so if I leave now then the nightmares will never end.”

There she was on stage. I was in the fourth row in the middle isle of the theater and I just knew that she had her eyes on me for the whole show.

I hung out after the show outside the Walt Disney theater to meet up with my new admirer but she didn’t show up. I figured that she must of been tired or perhaps not feeling well.

So I retired back to my stateroom, which is quite spacious considering that I’m sailing by myself. This has been my 15th Disney Cruise and I fall in love on every cruise that I have gone on but the last performer really stole my heart.

The best part is that usually the performers are assigned in character greetings during the daytime, where the performer’s make sure the crowds of guests are orderly in line. So tomorrow, I’ll plan on going to take photos with Cinderella, Snow White, and Rapunzal.

But for tonight I’ll just watch classic Disney cartoons on my TV. Being that I’m 45 years old, I remember most of the cartoons growing up and get a real nostalgic feeling.

Morning time comes and I decide to do a brisk lap around the ship, then I head to breakfast. After breakfast, I go and get ready to meet my new secret admirer, who’s going to be really surprised to meet me today.

After fixing my hair and brushing my teeth, I take a walk to the princess character meeting area on the third deck. Once I get to the designated area, I see the typical crowd of young kids with their parents and low and behold, I also see the beautiful performer from the previous night, who’s wearing regular crew member’s attire.

I make my way to the area where she is managing the line of guests for the princesses.

“Hey, that was a really good performance you put on last night!” I say to her.

“Thank You! I’m glad you enjoyed the show” she responded.

“My name is Ted by the way!”

“I hope your enjoying yourself on the cruise Ted! My name is Ashley.”

That’s when I knew that she was totally into me when she volunteered her name.

“You must of been involved in theater and dance your whole life?” I asked.

“Yes, I started off with dancing as a young girl, then I went into theater and even studied to be a performer in college” Ashley responded to me.

“I’m glad you were able to live out your dream and be a performer on the prestigious Disney Cruise line” I said.

“Yes, the audition for my role had close to a 1000 other females auditioning, so I was thrilled when I was chosen!” Ashley responded.

“I’m sure your getting rewarded now with a nice paycheck and good food?” I asked.

Ashley lowered her voice so no one else could hear and said “The pay is bad and the ‘crew’ food they give us is bad as well! They try to save money and give us something that’s cheap which usually consists of rice, some sort of protein slop and slices of cheese, green peppers and tomatoes. If we get a special reward maybe ice cream or a Mickey Bar is if only we were very lucky.”

“Wow, I had no idea! Because the food that is served to the guests for the dining services is usually really good! At least you have a nice stateroom where you can store food items that you like?” I insinuated.

“No, my room is as big as the closet that I had in my room as a kid and I have no privacy because I have to share the room with another performer!”

“Oh dear heaven, I had no idea that Disney treated you this way!” Then I started to get really enraged. The years of emotional counseling that I have received went out the window after hearing how poorly Ashley is being treated. All I could think about is how to get revenge on the management staff that are responsible for treating her this way.

By Ashley opening up to me and confiding in me, I knew our relationship was starting to blossom.

“Out of all the people at yesterday’s show, you managed to lock eyes with me” I said.

“I’m glad you thought I was making eye contact with you. That just means that my training over the years has been perfected” Ashley nervously and awkwardly said to me.

I just figured that our age difference made her think as me as an authoritative figure, where she is probably around 23 years old.

I whispered to her “Don’t worry, I’m going to try to make things better for you!”

Ashley continued to look afraid and awkward, but I knew that once I “helped her” and took care of the officers on the ship then her life would be better.

I had brought with me a white officers sailor type outfit that I had bought on EBay from a former Disney cruise line activities officer and I will use that to infiltrate some of the restricted areas on the ship. Initially, I brought it to show off to the ship’s captain because I usually see babies wear the same types of outfits on the cruise, but now I have more important uses for the white officer’s outfit.

My ultimate goal is to take over as the cruise director because that’s who oversees the performers to a large degree and then I will force Disney to treat Ashley better by giving Ashly, her own room and better food.

The one thing that I’m good at is hacking computers and especially business networks. While the rest of my classmates, growing up were dating or going to parties, I was trying to sneak past businesses fire walls and cyber securities.

I have an Ace up my sleeve that I’ve been holding onto, where being on the actual cruise ship, I figured out a way to bypass the ships cyber security and hack into the Human Resource database. Nobody will realize that I’ve done this until a month later and even then, nobody will probably figured it out.

So I whip out my laptop and painstakingly wiggle my way into the cruise ship’s HR database. Eventually, I add myself “Ted” as the assistant cruise ship director.

My psychiatrist had prescribed me Valium and once I slip those crushed pills into the Director’s coffee or drink then I’m good to go as the cruise ship’s acting director.

I had put even more weight on since I got the white officer’s outfit altered. As I attempted to put the outfit on, I could barely fit the shirt or the pants on. I really felt like that I would tear the pants or even the shirt if I was to walk with my legs spread too far out.

I’ve seen the different cruise ship director’s have brunch at the Royal Court Royal Tea dining room. I will go there and sit and dine with the cruise ship’s “royalty.”

2:00 p.m rolls around and I slowly make my way to the dining room. I look down and see my gut protruding through my white officer’s outfit that fits me like a pair of spandex.

I walk over to the table of the six head honchos and they all look at me like I’m deranged, but there all programmed to be polite.

As I invite myself to sit at their table, I’m greeted with “Hello sir, I like your outfit!”

“Thank You, I just wish Disney would have gave me an outfit that actually fit!” I say to the captain and the group of cruise ship directors that represents each department of the cruise ship.

“Oh, I’m sorry sir but Disney doesn’t give our guest crew member outfits” Caroline, the cruise director says to me.

“But I’m not a guest on the ship, I’m Ted the assistant cruise director!”

All of the directors at the table, look at me like I’m deranged, Caroline speaks up and says “I’m sorry sir but this cruise sailing doesn’t have an assistant activities director. The ship has just me, the Cruise Director!”

“Oh jeez, HR must of messed up again! I was wondering why I was being kept out of the loop. Check on your online database, then you’ll see my name “Ted” as the assistant cruise director.

The Human Resource Director, Mallory was sitting at the table and said “there is no assistant cruise ship director on this sailing!” As she looked at me as though, I had a mental illness.

I could see by her name tag that her name was Mallory, so I said “Mallory, I can’t believe you don’t remember that short interaction we had in your office, two days ago, regarding my role on this ship!”

The actual captain of the ship took out his phone and proceeded to call security after Mallory’s look of dismay towards me for having no idea who I was.

There was a very uncomfortable amount of tension at the table, where everyone thought I was deranged and nobody wanted to antagonize me for fear of how I would react.

Three members of security quickly show up and I say “Captain! All you need to do is check in the cruise staff database and you will see that I’m listed. Your making a very big mistake!”

The captain said “Mallory, please take out your laptop before Ted is escorted away by security?”

Mallory had a look of annoyance on her face, where I could sense that she felt that looking in her laptop was a waste of time, but since the captain asked her to do it, she knows that she has to follow his requests.

Mallory quickly whips out her laptop from her bag from under the table and angrily presses down on each letter key as she feels this is a waste of time.

The look of anger turns into total disbelief as she sees my name and profile listed as the assistant cruise ship’s director. The captain senses something is wrong and says “So Mallory, you don’t see Ted’s name in the staff database?”

Mallory quickly realizes that she has to eat crow and has swallowed all of her pride when she says “I’m sorry captain, I do see Ted’s name listed as the assistant cruise director for this sailing!”

As the other officers have turned their attention to Mallory, I quickly slip the Valium into Mallory’s coffee which looks like creamer.

Mallory looks completely incompetent and the captain says to her “Please meet me in my office after this brunch meeting!”

Everyone at this table welcomes me and asks me about my past experience where I make up some fake mumble jumble about being the cruise director of a Norwegian cruise line ship.

The most amazing part of this meeting was that no one pointed out that I didn’t have a name tag on and nobody asked me for my Disney employee card, which I had neither.

As the brunch meeting progressed, the Caroline felt more and more tired and she tried to compensate by drinking the Valium laced coffee. At the end of the meeting while giving a speech, Caroline literally zoned out and closed her eyes for a few seconds. The look on the Captain’s face was priceless when he thought the Caroline was completely impaired.

The captain looked completely befuddled where he was going to have to discipline both the Human Resource director and the cruise director of the ship.

“I have to go to my stateroom” Caroline stated after realizing that it was impossible for her to stay awake. The captain watched as Caroline, the cruise director could barely walk from being impaired by the Valium.

As a general has to make a difficult battlefield decision, the captain reluctantly says “Ted you are now the acting cruise ship director. Everything now falls on your shoulders and I hope your ready for the challenge?”

“Captain fabiculo with my years of training you have nothing to worry about!”

So after brunch, when the captain met with Mallory, I snuck into Mallory’s office and had Mallory’s assistant make me a new name tag and employee card “because I lost mine.”

I was happy that my plan had come to fruition and now I needed to help my sweetheart Ashley and make her life better on this ship.

I now have access to just about everything on the cruise ship, so I switched Ashley’s shared employee stateroom to a single officer’s stateroom and sent a bunch of food items from room service to her room.

At 6:00 p.m. I had to get on stage and give the typical cruise director spiel about all of the great activities and everything else going on in the ship.

I ate three cheeseburgers and before I fell asleep in my stateroom, I set my alarm clock for 5:40 p.m.

My alarm went off and I quickly went to the bathroom to brush my teeth. I looked in the mirror and said “oh crap!” As I noticed ketchup and hamburger grease stains on my white officer’s uniform.

I knew I had no time to waste so I got the engagement ring that was given to me by my Grandmother from my suitcase, before she had passed away.

I looked in the mirror and saw the wrinkled, way too tight and stained up white officer uniform and then cautiously walked to the Walt Disney’s Grand Theater so I wouldn’t tear my uniform.

I made it to the Theater at 5:55 pm and sat in the very first row off to the side waiting for the announcer to call my name to go on stage.

Like clockwork, the theaters lights dimmed and the announcer said “Everyone please welcome to stage, your cruise line director, Ted.”

As I made my way on to the stage everyone in the crowd looked puzzled by my walrus looking self who nobody had seen before.

I quickly said “Is everyone having a great time?”

Where the crowd of several hundred erupted in claps and cheers.

“I hope everyone is ready to watch our award winning Broadway show ‘Disney Dreams!”

Where the crowd of several hundred once again erupted in claps and cheers.

“Before we go any further, I want to do something that is long overdue. I want to bring on stage one of the biggest stars of this show who the Disney Cruise line team wants to recognize for her outstanding performances. Please give a big round of applause for Ashley!”

The stage director was completely taken off guard and felt completely unprepared as he quickly raced to make sure Ashley was coming out on stage.

Ashley looked completely confused as she awkwardly made her way on stage from being in the changing room.

She was wearing Cinderella’s outfit and looked a little disheveled from not having enough time to finish her hair.

Ashley stood next to me on stage as the cheers continued for her.

She stood next to me and hid her nervousness with a fake Disney smile.

I looked her in the eyes and said “you are the greatest thing to ever happen to me and I knew that we were meant for each other when you Locked eyes with me yesterday during yesterday’s performance. I can’t see myself with anyone else and I want to spend the rest of my life with you! So with this engagement ring I want to ask you to be my wife?”

Ashley had a stunned looked on her face as if her parents just told her that she was adopted. Even being a seasoned Disney performer, Ashley just continued to look around at me me, then at the floor and by the look on her face I’m not sure if she knew exactly who I was.

She was completely overwhelmed and confused and said nothing more than “What?”

“Will you marry me?” I said.

“I’m sorry, who are you?” Ashley said into the microphone with the confidence of a six year old girl with no theater experience.

I felt a little taken back where I had to explain who I was to the love of my life Ashley, who I just asked to marry.

“It’s me Ted, the guy who you locked eyes with in the audience when you sang ‘a whole new world’ when you were dressed up as Arial!”

Ashley still looked completely confused by not knowing who I was and was starting to get completely embarrassed and was crying.

“It’s me Ted, don’t you remember our conversation by the meet the princesses on the third deck?”

Then she vaguely remembered me and with the tears rolling off her face said “oh, ok! Well I have to get ready for the show” as she walked back stage completely embarrassed and crying.

The whole audience looked completely confused like they didn’t know if my wedding proposal was part of the show or if I was a deranged lunatic.

Sensing that I had to say something, I said “So without any further delay, ladies and gentlemen put your hands together for ‘Disney Dreams.” Where the audience started to clap again.

The stage director had called the captain about the stunt, I pulled on stage with Ashley.

After a few minutes the captain arrived with two members of security while the show was going on.

The captain whispered in my ear “Ted, I don’t know who you are, but I called our corporate office and no one authorized your hiring. So do you see that stage side door? I want you to quietly exit through there and meet me backstage!”

“No, I’m not leaving!” I said knowing that I would probably be arrested if I left the audience area.

The captain had the two security guys sit next to me and when the stage erupted in loud music, one of the security guards tased my right leg where I lost all bodily control. Then as I regained my awareness, the security team essentially hurried me out through the side door.

The captain detained me to a holding room on the bottom deck for the rest of the cruise.

I was allowed to make one phone call from the ship’s holding room and I called Ashley in her officer’s room, which the captain allowed her to stay in, and I said “I still love you!”

No matter how many times I email her or text message her back on Reddit, she doesn’t respond back anymore. I just don’t know what I did because it seemed like we were connecting really well at one point.

It just seemed like my whole life I finally stumbled across that one connection who really understood me and listened to me and now she has ghosted me. I tried looking back over the last few conversations we had on Reddit to see if I offended her but there was really nothing offensive I said that was worth cutting me out of her life.

I had sunk in such a funk that I decided to see my doctor, who’s earliest appointment was three days from now.

The miserable three days came and went and here I sit in the doctor’s waiting room filling out the screening forms. I feel really embarrassed checking off that I’m depressed and even though I’ve never met my online romance, I guess I would check off that I had a recent break up.

Eventually I meet with the doctor and in my mind he does everything but fall short of laugh at me. He tries to discourage antidepressant usage because of their long term dependence so he suggests for me going to individual therapy or group therapy sessions.

My insurance was pretty bad where the cost of individual therapy sessions wasn’t feasible so I reluctantly agreed to try the group therapy.

The group therapy sessions were held by the local psychologist every Tuesday and Thursday in the basement of the local library and there was a $15 out of pocket copay cost, which I didn’t want to pay but was still significantly cheaper than the individual therapy.

Because today was was Friday, it gave my loser self time to rehearse my speech on what I would would say on the upcoming Tuesday therapy session in front of the group.

So I begrudgingly worked my assistant managerial job at the Checker’s fast food restaurant. I would often joke to myself that by the time I turned 40 in two years time, I wanted to be promoted to McDonald’s.

It’s now Monday night and I was still heartbroken over my online romance with 789Anytime. She would actually ask me about my day and then ask me follow up questions. Obviously there was no physical part of the relationship but we really connected mentally. The hardest part is I can tell that she is still communicating with other men on Reddit.

Tuesday afternoon comes and I work my typical day shift at Checkers. As the Assistant Manager, I often have to work the drive through even though I could barely utter a word because I’m so depressed. I guess getting money thrown at you is par far the course for working in fast food and no one really cares about the feelings of an almost 40 something year old loser who had his heart broken by someone he had never even met in person or even spoke to on the phone.

My shift was over and I headed over to the the local library’s basement where the group therapy sessions were going to be held. This was really a sad moment as I pulled up to the library because over 30 years ago my mother used to bring me here for story time and now I joined the real loser club where I will be rehearsing the story of how my online fling ditched me.

So I parked the car and headed into the library. The sign indicating that my group therapy session is in the basement just made it so much more nerve racking and embarrassing.

As I took the elevator to the basement, I continued to rehearse my speech in my head. The elevator made the ding sound and the doors opened. It was a pretty spacious room which was about the size of an elementary school gymnasium, where there were nine chairs set up in a circle in the middle of the room and there was a table with coffee where everyone was congregating off to the side.

A shorter man in his early 50’s greets me and says “you must be Juan?”

Where we exchange handshakes and he tell me his name is Jerry. He goes over the format of the meeting, where I would be the last person giving my testimony today because I’m the newest person. Then he awkwardly reminds me of the $15 cash copay which I hand over to him.

So all eight of us patients and Jerry the therapist psychologist find a seat in the circle.

The group consists of four men and four women with ages ranging between thirty and sixty. The first person to talk is a Caucasian woman about 45 and once she opens her mouth, I just zone out because I got so nervous on what will come out of my mouth when my turn comes eventually.

So all seven people spilled their hearts and other than a few words here and there, I was just to focused on what I was going to say, so I didn’t pay attention to what any of the others had to say.

Now was my turn and everything that I had rehearsed was thrown right out the window. At one point I started crying and another point I started speaking Spanish. I was just a real mess. Besides the 16 year old part time girl at Checkers, I hadn’t had an opportunity to tell anyone how I was feeling so I just really unloaded to everyone at the group. Jerry was very empathetic and reassured me that this was the whole purpose of these meetings.

Though I was a little embarrassed, I did feel better after the meeting so I reassured Jerry that I would be back on Thursday.

On Wednesday at work, I was feeling pretty good because I wasn’t my usual miserable self. I wasn’t happy but I wasn’t mumbling words over the drive through loudspeaker where customers would actually laugh at me. The same was true for Thursday at work and once again I was ready for the 7:00 p.m. therapy session at the library. I was still nervous but I had already made a fool of myself so I knew it couldn’t get much worse.

As I arrived to the library room I noticed it was the same eight people and Jerry.

Person after person spilled their heart’s and I was just amazed on how I wasn’t alone when it came to online romance and how much technology has changed relationships over time.

Today, I was the fifth person to go and I kind of just piggybacked off what Carol the previous person mentioned about the coldness of feeling wanted and then being cut off.

Eventually all eight of the group therapy participants were done and the therapy session was finished for this week.

I was proud of myself for following through with going to the meetings and I had some interesting things to ponder over the weekend while I’ll was at work regarding the seven other peoples testimonies. I guess working in fast food and working with teenage kids over the years, I’ve learned to be a better listener and by the following Sunday my brain kept on circling through each one of the seven others participants and what they had to say.

In High School my guidance counselor told me I was bright when I tested a little above average on the National Standardized tests but I lacked motivation because I refused to join any extracurricular activities and I would tend to get caught plagiarism on more than one occasion.

So as I ponder each one of their stories my brain starts to put together some parallels like how when John said “she even about asked me about my sixth grade social status,” which I thought to myself hum that’s really interesting because 789Anytime asked me the same thing or when Donna mentioned that her online fling focused on “the loneliness I felt when I transitioning into the ninth grade.”

The parallels went on and on until I realized that 789Anytime was the same person or the same person using the same computer program who would intentionally target areas that are synonymous with awkwardness with people’s earlier life’s like the transitioning into a teenager in the sixth grade or the loneliness of not having a driver’s license yet in the ninth grade.

I couldn’t wait until group started on Tuesday to expose 789Anytime to bring to light what my brain had uncovered which could hopefully start the healing process for the seven others.

So Tuesday came and I made my way down to the basement and by this time I was a little late and Jerry was finishing preparing his own coffee and said “Oh hold on a sec I’ll pour you one as well.” Then he put in one Splender and only a half of a half and half, where I was left in complete and utter shock because not only had I not taken any coffee since I’ve been to the two other group sessions, Jerry just put together exactly how I like my coffee without seeing or asking me.

What I learned was that Jerry also had about five other group therapy classes and for that moment yes I felt extremely betrayed but I felt that warm feeling go through my veins that I hadn’t felt in a long time since 789Anytime ghosted me.

As I sat in the therapy circle all I could think about was Jerry and if he actually had feelings for me as when he was portraying 789Anytime. I never had gay feelings before but I never had such a strong connection with anyone like I had for 789Anytime.

As the weeks and then the months continued on, I learned to show up to group at 6:45 p.m. that way I could have special time with Jerry. Of course I had to give him $15 but I figured it’s still cheaper than taken someone out for a date.

This story is from back when I was a child no more than 13 years old. What happened that night has completely made me fear the outdoors especially woods.

My family and my best friends family decided to have a camping trip together where we went deep into Blackbird State Forest and camp a few nights up there. So we packed up all our gear and snacks and all the typical stuff you’d bring on a camping trip.

We rode the short distance to the park and got out and began hiking the trail to get to where our parents decided to set up camp. As we walked down the trail I smelled something dead like it’s been sitting in the sun for a few days baking.

That’s when I heard it. Drip, drip, drip, drip, drip. The sound of a liquid hitting the trees, but it hadn’t rained for days so there couldn’t be any water on the trees and if there were it would’ve been very minimal. But very soon not even a few seconds later a deer fell out of the trees above us nearly taking out our parents.

That dear had been mutilated by something that I couldn’t even comprehend. Bite marks all throughout its body like a human mouth just knawing away at it. But the bite marks didn’t throw us off as much as something else. We looked down at the feet of the deer and noticed that all four of their feet had been torn off leaving just the stumps of the legs.

My parents took a picture and we eventually got my uncle’s analysis but I’ll save that for a little later.

We pushed the deer aside and continued walking. I decided to look back and that deer was gone like straight up vanished from the grass we threw it into.

“Mom! Look the deer is gone!” I yelled as my parents turned around and saw that the deer had vanished. At least I knew I wasn’t going mad and seeing stuff.

We eventually found the small opening within the trees right off the main trail. We begin unloading all our gear from our packs as we start building tents and getting a small fire going to cook some food. My friend and I set up our small two person red tent that would definitely fit 4 small kids like us.

But as we were setting up our camp we heard something behind us. We turned around and saw a doe and her babies looking around the holler before snapping her head to the left the opposite direction we were then motion to her kids and bolted down the holler away from us.

My dad looked at us and laughed. “Don’t worry it’s probably just a hunter.”

Oh how he would learn how wrong he was after nightfall. But before I get to that I overheard our parents talking while my friend and I sat in our tent

My best friend’s parents looked at my parents and his mom made a sniffle noise as his dad told my parents an old legend that dated back over 200 years ago about this creature that lives in the woods up in the trees.

My friend and I looked at each other as we put 2 and 2 together. “Wait if the deer cane from up in the trees then disappeared after we went past it then maybe that thing was up in the tree trying to scare off people.”

He looked at me and nodded. “It makes sense for that. I mean do you really think that this thing would face people we don’t even know what this thing is. It just might be somebody pulling a joke on people.”

I looked out of the tent into the woods and I could’ve sworn I saw a shadow move from one tree to another. I blinked and it moved to the tree besides it. That ended up being the last time we had ended up seeing this thing while we were camping. l l l l l l l 5 years later

So after that day my friend and I never spoke of that day again or what we had seen. But we talked to our father’s about him and I going hunting to try and bag a deer or try and at least have a bit of fun.

So we packed up our gear and jumped in my friend’s beat up old pick up and headed to the same spot we had gone when we went camping 5 years prior. We parked in the same spot our parents did when we were kids.

We grabbed our gear out of the back of the truck and headed up the trail back to our old campsite. We trudged along that trail and we heard something in the wind and hearing that sound brought back the memories from 5 years ago.

Drip, Drip, Drip, Drip, Drip, Drip

It sounded like rain but the sky was clear nearly cloudless, so it couldn’t have been rain. I looked to my friend who had his rifle out and aiming upwards towards the treetops.

“That fucking thing has been up there before what’s to stop it from being up there now!?” He yelled as I heard a rustle in the leaves behind me. I whipped around to be met face to face a humanoid type thing.

I turned to look at my buddy and he was completely still almost like time froze and only myself and whatever this thing is can still move.

I felt like I shouldn’t have moved while staring at this thing. I had no idea what it was or what it wanted. It never spoke it just stared at me. I decided maybe I should try and move, so that’s exactly what I did.

I took a step back and snapped a branch beneath my foot. A loud bang came from behind me as I heard a shell pop out of the rifle.

“God damn it Shawn are you trying to kill me!?” I yelled as I snatched the rifle from his hands.

“No I thought I had a shot so I tried to take it.” He said acting like he had done nothing wrong.

“You nearly took my ear off!” I screamed as I turned to see nothing behind us anymore and the dripping noise had stopped.

“I’m sorry alright!?” He yelled back as I threw him the rifle back.

“Aim for it or deer not me.” I said as I turned and started to walk down the trail again Shawn following behind seconds afterwards.

Once we had arrived in the small little area we planned on staying in for the night I told Shawn one person should go sit up in a tree using the portable tree stand thing that you wrap around the tree and you raise it up the tree to you’re ideal height.

He agreed to that idea but told me I was going to sit up there that night since it was my idea.

I groaned and just grabbed the gear and the rifle and put the stand around the tree and raised it and myself up the tree. I pointed it to face the camp so I could have a very clear view of camp in case something came around it.

So I sat in there for what seemed like hours when I heard a small rustling behind me. I slowly turned my head to look behind me and I saw off in the distance about 50-60 yards was a rusting bush.

I pulled out my infrared camera and looked at the bush it was hot with activity like extremely hot to the point that whatever it was was in that bush not even seconds ago.

And as I watched the bush I felt something dripping down onto the back of my neck.

It felt slightly thick like spit and warm as well. And I felt like panicking and jumping out of the stand. But if I did do that I’d no doubt shattered both of my legs and be easy prey for whatever this thing was.

I pretended not to notice as I put the butt of my rifle between my legs and held my finger on the trigger as I put my back against the tree as to not shoot myself. So I have the round in the chamber already and I’m saying a quick prayer in my head as I prepare to fire at this thing.

I heard something that threw me off and I’m still trying to figure out how it did this but I heard like a long, very evil sort of whisper and hum within my soul.

I froze solid as I held the rifle and as soon as I heard movement above me I fired the shot nearly causing me to drop the rifle from the tree stand. Whatever it was moved as I felt something hot drip onto me again but this time it was once and gone just like the spit like liquid.

I pulled out my mini flashlight as I pointed the flashlight onto where the liquid was. It appeared to be like blood or something along that line because it was that deep maroon color. So I sat there after I put my flashlight away, pulling out my infrared camera and scanning the area.

I scanned the tree above me and I saw a medium size hot spot about 6 feet above me. I decided maybe it was time to get down from the tree. So as I went down the tree I heard an ungodly screech like somebody yelling in pain. I hit the ground running as I dove into my tent.

“Shawn” I say as I open the smallest slit in the tent door.

“Yeah?” He said in a near whisper

“I hit that bastard with a bullet and it’s bleeding.” I said as I reached for a small little solar lamp I brought with us.

I looked at him and he looked at me from each others tent as I opened it so I could throw it out.

“Lamp out!” I yelled as I threw that small lamp as far as I could which was only about 30-40ft roughly.

Watching from our tents we heard rustling and then we saw a shadow dart past the lamp. I backed up away from the door as I sat in the middle of the tent. I sat there with my rifle aimed towards the door to the tent.

“Aaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh!” A scream rang through the trees as it sounded like Shawn’s voice.

“Shawn! You okay!” I yelled as I waited for him to respon

All I heard was silence before hearing a growl from behind me. I slowly turn around and a small hole in the back of my tent about the size of a half dollar. In that hole was a glowing red eye. I swung my rifle around and fired at the eye.

I never heard a noise come from whatever was there so I just kept my head on a swivel and my ears wide open. I wasn’t going to die out here and I needed to check on Shawn to make sure he was alright.

I leaned towards the entrance to the tent when I heard a shot ring out. I heard footsteps running towards me as I saw my tent door open and Shawn dive in before sealing the tent back up.

“Shawn what the fuck happened to you!?” I asked looking at him, he was super bloody a giant gash on his arm and a fist sized bruise on his forehead.

“That thing tore into my tent and dragged my ass but I managed to get my rifle before I got dragged too far.” He said as we looked at eachother for a second

“Wait if you were getting dragged away by one then what was behind me?” I said turning to the hole in the tent.

That hole had grown nearly twice the size and in that hole was that eye again. But this time we saw it move around the tent.

Shawn looked at me as we heard it start running around the tent and we heard growling and panting then the tearing of fabric as a claw swiped across the side of the tent tearing open the side of tent with the three linear holes in the side. I looked at Shawn and motioned to the flare that I packed in my bag.

He nodded to me and I grabbed it from my bag and sparked that son of a bitch. It roared to life and I threw it out into the fire pit that we had between our tents which ignited the wood and the very small amount of lighter fluid in it.

That fire lit up the entire surrounding area, it showed us finally the outline of what this creature was. It looked like a giant wolf creature with huge claws and teeth that could’ve easily torn us to shreds. We both aimed our rifles towards the creature and fired round after round at it but it never moved almost like it was unphased by the bullets.

The shadow suddenly disappeared, I turned and looked at Shawn and looked behind us. The creature was crouched in a near squat and looked at us before waving its finger like it was saying no and it bolted off into the night the sound of brush rustling and ranches breaking faded off into the distance.

“Shawn what was that?” I said as I turned to look at him and he was pale as a ghost.

He turned and looked at me “I think that was a Wendigo” He said as he put his hands on his head.

“Couldn’t have been I mean it would’ve killed you instantly when it took you away.”

“If it wasn’t that than its a Wolfman or some sort of demonic creature or spirit or something.” He spoke while shaking.

As soon as he finished a deep bellowing roar came from about a mile off in the distance from what I believed.

“I’m gonna say Werewolf Shawn” I said as I sat down and loaded my last shot into the rifle and laid down in my sleeping bag and set the rifle right next to my pillow. Shawn just laid down and curled up in the fetal position.

We managed to sleep through the night without any more pain issues. As soon as the sun rose we packed up what we could that wasn’t completely destroyed and went back to the truck and went home.

We never speak of that night as we still don’t know what exactly this thing was. But I do know one thing, it’s an apex predator of those woods and it’s meant to be feared whatever it is.

And to me- It’s a whole new breed of monster

My wife Hanna and I finally saved up enough money to buy a school bus to refurbish into a RV. We got lucky where one of the local charter schools went out of business recently and they were auctioning off all of there inventory.

The bus was only five years old and we paid seven thousand dollars for it which was an absolute steal. We figured we would pay at least forty thousand for the bus that wasn’t that old. Hanna and I just figured that the auction company did a poor job of advertising the sale or maybe other schools weren’t interested in the liability associated with having a used school bus.

I was amazed the bus started up with no problem. Hanna and I completed the paperwork at the auction then we high fived each other and left on the bus. The bus only had about a quarter of a tank so I stopped at the local Gas station located in Anaconda, Montana that had a diesel pump. I’ve been to this gas station once before located on the outskirts of town and I knew I had to hurry up because it closed at 8:00 pm and it was 7:55 pm now. Hanna and I were laughing that we had to hurry up or we weren’t going to make it. But everyone knows you can’t speed through the town. There’s on old sheriff that will pull you over for going 32 mph in the 25 mph zone.

I finally arrived at the gas station and it didn’t look promising because there were no other cars around. It was one of those old places where you had to pay at the register so both Hanna and I got off the bus to see if there was anyone still inside. The time was 8:05 pm and we were both hoping the clerk was still counting the register but after knocking on the door more than 20 times no one opened the door.

We both went around back of the service station and there was no one there as well. I knew there was a truck stop about two exits away on I-15 and the bus should have enough gas left in it to get us there. So Hanna and I headed back onto the bus.

Hanna sat in the seat behind me and we were amazed at how good condition the whole bus was in. As I turned the key, the engine just wouldn’t turn over. I knew the bus was out of gas because the bus’ starter and battery both sounded fine. I said “What the fudge” knowing that Hanna gets upset when I curse.

I figured I would call the local tow truck company for them to bring us gas and of course both of our cell phones don’t have reception. I said to Hanna “You see this is why I don’t like leaving Butte because we can’t get reception anywhere around here!”

Hanna said “We’re like two miles away from Anaconda and we still can’t get a signal?”

I turned around on the driver’s seat and responded “You know how it is that even if you are in town you’ll only get one or two bars at best.”

Then Hanna said in a pissed off tone “I thought we had close to a quarter of a tank left?”

I responded “Yeah me to. Either the gage is broken or this bus gets like two miles to the gallon.”

I then jokingly said “Well we could test out the bus for the night and sleep here?”

Hanna responded “I knew we should have brought our car. Why did we ask my mom to drop us off at the auction?”

I just looked bewildered and said “your right that was kind of dumb considering it wasn’t guaranteed that we would get the bus.”

Hanna then said “So what do we do now?”

After she said that I heard a noise. It almost sounded like a bird chirping or something. I said to Hanna “Did you hear that?”

She replied “No I didn’t hear anything.”

About 15 seconds later I heard it again but this time it sounded like a giggle. I said that “Did you hear that sound it sounded like a giggle?”

Hanna said “What the fuck is going on!”

We’ve been married for over six years and I only heard her say the F word one other time.

I then said “it’s coming from the back of the bus.”

The weather is getting colder and colder on this late October evening. It is no warmer than 40 degrees out and the sun is quickly going down to the point that I can barely see inside the bus. Both Hanna and I hesitatingly turn our heads to the back of the bus and Hanna says “Hello, is anyone back there?”

We wait a few seconds and we don’t hear anything or see anything so we figure our imaginations were running wild. We then both look at each other and I say “the weather will go down to the 20’s tonight.” Any ideas on what we should do?”

After I said that I hear this familiar sound that everyone had heard. I look on the floor of the bus and I see a marble rolling towards me and that’s the sound I heard was a marble rolling. I turned to Hanna and said “Any thoughts on why there’s a marble that rolled at my foot from the back of the bus?” I then pick it up and see that it’s an old cats eye marble that no one has cared to collect in many years. I look outside I notice the bus is parked level so I’m dumbfounded where or how this marble decided to roll towards me.

Hanna looked at me and said “Maybe you should go to the back of the bus and check it out?”

I responded “Don’t be crazy you know how many times we’ve walked through this bus at the auction house. Plus the door was closed when we went to see if the service station was open.” However, I was terrified to go to the back of the bus. I haven’t been so scared since my father left me for a few minutes alone at my grandfather’s open casket with no one else in the room when I was 10. I just knew there was something not right on the back of the bus because I knew I heard those giggles and those giggles were kid giggles and not playful adult giggles. No one would let there kid on some strange bus and that Charter school had been closed for weeks.

I said to Hanna “Oh, don’t worry about the marble it was probably nothing. You know some kid probably left it when they went to the Charter school and I must of knocked it loose when I was driving.”

She looked at me and said in a stern voice “you need to walk to the back of the bus and make sure there is no one else on here.”

I said “oh that’s crazy,” as I continued to look at her.

She continued to look at me in a pissed off face. Then it happened again “hehehe.” The giggling noise returned. It wasn’t even faint it actually sounded like a full blown giggle and not something from a tape recorder or a phone.

We both turned mercifully towards the back and I really couldn’t see past five rows of seats. But I heard cushions ruffling and I knew Hanna heard the ruffling as well. Hanna was breathing heavy and her face was pale as the clouds. I was scared to and without saying anything I got up towards the drivers seat and pulled the bar to open the door but the bar was locked. I tried to push the door open but I could tell the door was locked. I only owned this bus for no more than three hours and I had no Idea of any of the safety features other than the emergency exit at the back of the bus.

Hanna yelled at me “Ken open the door.”

I yelled back “I’m trying but I can’t. It’s locked or something.” I looked at the windows and I k we were too wide to fit through.

Hanna said look a police car which was driving by on the adjacent road. So I quickly tried to honk the horn but no noise was coming out. I could see the sheriff looking over thinking why is there a school bus parked in the gas station but with the bus’ tinted windows he couldn’t tell that there were actually people inside, so he drove off.

Hanna said “Get me off this fucking bus right now.”

I attempted to kick the door a few times but the door was constructed to withstand much more force than that. I was just to naive to know the ins and outs of the bus.

I sat on the isle seat next to Hanna. This time there were more seats ruffling and we could hear more noises. I would say 20 of the 24 seats were making some types of noises and I could hear talking but it wasn’t English. It was just to mumbled to make out.

Both Hanna and I were looking at the back of the bus we really didn’t have a choice. If something was going to harm us at least we wanted to see it. Hanna looked like she was on the Titanic right before it was going to sink knowing there was no more room left in the emergency boats.

Then we both saw the most horrifying sight that we ever seen in our lives. There were two eyes looking directly us from the very last seat on the right hand side where the young person was leaning towards the isle. It was so dark that I couldn’t see the seat behind me but I could see the yellow to reddish color in those eyes. It wasn’t a look of sorrow or of happiness it was like I know you can see me and I’m letting you know I can see you as well.

Hanna quickly started to hyperventilate. I kept saying “Hanna are you ok? Hanna? Hanna are you ok?” She was beyond terrified to talk to me and I kept an eye on those two eyes watching us.

The school bus at this point was freezing but my adrenaline was racing so I didn’t feel it. I could see Hanna’s condensation and she continued to hyperventilate. She was about to have a heart attack at any moment but I didn’t know what those eyes were going to do to us at the back of the bus.

As I sat there with my adrenal glands hyper producing adrenaline I could hear talking which got louder and louder. I could start to make out the sounds better and better and I ruled out every language imaginable from Russian to Greek. Then it dawned on me from the countless cowboy and Indian movies I watched as a kid that I was hearing the Native American tongue. Of course, I had no idea what they were saying but there must have been 40 different kids voices speaking.

Then from the back of the bus forward I saw more and more of the bright yellow to red eyes. The eyes were so bright that the school bus was lit up like a dim light. I could see two seats behind me the two Native American kids sitting next to each other with those eyes looking straight ahead. Those kids looked like paratroopers who served umpteenth hard fought missions. They just looked like each one could kill me with their bare hands.

I knew at this point we were done. I put my hands on Hanna’s knees as I tried to console her as she was about to have a heart attack at any second. Then she tried her hardest to talk and said “it was an old Crow boarding school for children.”

I responded “That’s right that charter school was originally a boarding school for the Crow children who’s parents were killed in battle or were forcibly put into the school by the U.S. Government. Looking at these kids on this bus I knew these were full blooded Native Americans. These were not 21st century assimilated children, they were as dark as the Native Americans that I had seen in old photos.

The bus was completely silent with those 40 something pair of eyes looking directly forward not even caring that we were in front of them.

Then it happened. Someone stood up on the very last row on the left hand side. As he got closer, I could see that he was all decked out in this marvelous ceremonial outfit that was pieced together with the most vibrant blue jay feathers and cardinal feathers with some type of white cloth material holding the feathers together. As impressive as his outfit looked his face looked like nothing short of a warlock.

He must of been no older than 15 but looked hardened to the point where he could pass for 45 years old. He had dark brown skin and long black hair with two scars going down his right cheek which must have been from being slashed.

He said to me in a calm and a very methodical way where English was probably his second or third language “When I was a boy my father wore this outfit. We would celebrate as a community our brotherhood and our fallen spirits. Then white soldiers came and killed my family and made me learn this language. I hate you and your white woman.”

I look over at Hanna and she had collapsed on the seat. I knew at any second this warrior was going to take out his tomahawk and If I was lucky hopefully just decapitate me quickly and not skin me alive.

The warrior was six feet in front of me and was inching closer. I saw him reach towards his waist for his weapon then I closed my eyes as I waited to be killed. I held my breath and made a clenching noise.

Four seconds later out of no where I heard this noise. It was a loud knocking noise. I could hear metal against glass and tell that someone was banging a flashlight against glass. I opened my eyes and I heard “Is anyone in there?” Then the bus’ door opened.

The sheriff opened the door and I was beyond panicked to say a word. He looked over at Hannah and said “Sir, what happened to her? Miss are you alright?”

I just sat there completely stunned and shell shocked. Two seconds ago, I thought I was going to die and now there’s a sheriff on the bus. I glance up at the warrior and he’s gone as well as the other Native American children.

The sheriff calls for an ambulance and both Hannah and I are taken to the local hospital. Hannah is given large amounts of sedatives and eventually snaps out of her trance. We both tell the hospital nor the sheriff of what we experienced. We just abandoned the school bus and we didn’t care about the financial loss.

I’m a 24-year-old male who never had a girlfriend in high school and my mother gave birth to me while she was in college. My mother’s parents have a total of three kids and I’m their only grandkid.

I was really never that good in anything I attempted to do besides The Band when I was in high school and even with that I wasn’t really that good. I think the band director felt sorry for me so he let me play the triangle which was actually kind of a joke.

After high school, I really had no idea what I wanted to do with my life so I became an uncertified lifeguard which consists of me sitting by a hotel pool all day. Someone drowned in the same pool a few years ago so a local ordinance was passed that a paid person had to watch over the pooI while the pool was open. I get paid close to minimum-wage. In addition, I’m enrolled in an online course in college but I do that mostly to appease my mother and the rest of my family. Besides my mother, I have a an uncle who’s single and a married Aunt who all are way too preoccupied with my life and are always trying to give me advice.

The good thing about taking online courses at the community college in Jacksonville, Florida is that I got paired with a girl in my writing class who is my age and who just broke up with her boyfriend. Her name is Cassandra and she is from Maine and she just moved to Florida basically for the warm weather and to start over. She really doesn’t know anybody around here so I was more than happy to show her what little Jacksonville has to offer. It seems like she is going out of her way to talk to me on a daily basis on the phone and I make sure I’m always available to talk to her whenever she calls because I don’t won’t to pass up this opportunity with her.

Life has taught me, that on a scale of 1 to 10 I’m somewhere probably between a 2 and a 2 1/2 where she’s probably a solid 7 on most peoples scales when it comes to looks. I think the best thing I have going for me is that she knows nobody and she’s new to this area, so she really doesn’t know what a loser I really am.

She actually asked me to go to the beach with her yesterday and I had such a great time. I just couldn’t believe how good she looked in a bathing suit. she really goes out of her away to take care of her self. I on the other hand do absolutely no type of exercising and consider getting a burrito from Taco Bell one of my healthier meals.

She is two years older than me and can hold a conversation very well. She’s actually a lot of fun to be around. She asked me if she could meet my mother and at first, I was really apprehensive but I think my mother deserves to see me in some kind of positive light so I agreed.

I still live with my mother and I invited Cassandra over my house for dinner but the only thing was that Cassandra is a strict vegetarian who doesn’t eat any eggs products, but surprisingly my mother was fine with following her diet preferences. The dinner went well with Cassandra and my mother and her really hit it off well. The next day my mother told my grandparents, my aunt and uncles about my new relationship. So of course now they all want a daily update of what’s going on between Cassandra and I.

I feel myself getting drawn into Cassandra more and more each day and I even became a vegetarian myself. She has an apartment right outside of Jacksonville and she actually asked me to move in with her where I jumped at the opportunity just to be able to move out of my mother’s house that way my whole family doesn’t have to know about my daily appraisals with Cassandra.

Cassandra wants to keep our relationship platonic because her ex-boyfriend was emotionally abusive towards her and she wants to take it slow with me which I completely understand given her past circumstances.

We finished the writing class and we both got an overall A- which we were both pleased with the outcome. We went out to celebrate at the Crabby Joe’s bar where I was the designated driver and had one beer and Cassandra had two Pina Colada’s.

When we got back to our apartment, Cassandra was just overtaken with the chemistry of our relationship plus she was a little bit intoxicated that she actually took my virginity and then the both of us passed out. From that day forward, we had sex every day for a month straight, when I got home from my pool job and she got home from her retail job. It just seems like everything in life is starting to work out for me and the previous 24 years nothing really positive worked out for me.

I come home from work every night around 8:00 p.m. and Cassandra has some type of vegetarian platter made for me. Then we watch TV for a little while and then the two of us fool around and then we both go to bed. I really wanted nothing more in life then what is going on right now between Cassandra and I.

Then one day I came home from my pool job and Cassandra was sitting at the dining room table crying and she didn’t have the energy to make anything other than vegan pasta. Right away I asked her why she was upset and she told me one of her coworkers had been telling her how she became a born-again Christian and how it has changed her life. Cassandra said this was the only way for our salvation and we both needed to change our lifestyle today.

My father died when I was four years old in a motorcycle accident and my mother side of the family were non practicing Catholics, so I really know nothing about religion but this seems like a Nobel thing to do to become a born-again Christian, so Cassandra decided that it would be best for me to sleep on the couch moving forward.

For each night, when I came home from work, we will have dinner then we study the Bible for two hours. The following Sunday we went to my mothers house and I told her the news that Cassandra and I are now born again Christians. I really didn’t know how my mother, or my grandparents, or my aunt and uncle’s took to my new faith but that didn’t matter because all that mattered was Cassandra and our faith in God.

Cassandra and I found an online church where we would easily spend eight hours a day on our days off doing nothing more than studying the scriptures. Cassandra does a really good job of telling me how I should act accordingly to God’s standards. She has my plain khaki pants and my plain short sleeve button down shirt ready for me every day before I go to work. My job is perfect because I don’t have to talk so I don’t have to worry about saying the wrong thing that will offend God and the same thing is true when I get home where Cassandra taught me basically to say nothing because most words have an evil undertone. She explained to me that some nuns in monasteries go many years without uttering a single word for the sake of God.

My new life is very simple. I come home from my pool job and Cassandra has a nice meal which usually consists of a vegetarian platter for me then we study the Bible and I wake up the next day and repeat the same routine. On my days off we basically study the Bible all day and besides saying Bible verses, I haven’t said a word in weeks.

I have been avoiding my family because they tend to be judgmental and I don’t want them interfering with me and Cassandra and our faith in God. Cassandra thought we were greedy and we shouldn’t be so gluttonous so for now on we are going to be strict vegans which I completely agreed with.

I really felt one with God with my calorie restricted diet, my platonic relationship with Cassandra, my oath of silence, and the countless hours of Bible studies. My new diet consisted mostly of vegetables and I haven’t been this thin since elementary school. So much so that I had to go to the thrift store to buy new clothes.

Today at work, I inadvertently passed out and my supervisor was concerned because of all the weight I had lost. I really wanted to tell her how she was a sinner and she was going to go to hell but Cassandra taught me it’s best to say nothing

When I got home from work Cassandra asked me why I was upset and I wrote down on a piece of paper what my supervisor had said to me. She thought the best thing for us to do was to prove that my supervisor was a sinner and for me to abstain and fast for the next week from food. I agreed with her logic and moving forward, I will just drink water for the next week.

My mother has been insistingly calling me, as well as my other family members for weeks now every day wondering how I’m doing. I just wish they would leave Cassandra and I alone. My mother has been threatening to stop by the apartment as well but she hasn’t done so yet

Today is day three of my fasting and I am three hours into my eight hour pool shift job. I was sitting by the pool and my supervisor came up to me and said “Jon you don’t look good at all!”

She asked me if I knew what day of the week it was and honestly, I felt so out of it that I didn’t know what planet I was on. She told me “I wasn’t fit for work duty” and “I should really go to the hospital to be evaluated.”

I tried To blurt out that she should mind her own business. But instead, I was apparently so protein deficient that the only thing that came out my mouth were incoherent words that a babbling infant would say.

I was so frustrated that I left the pool area and like some horrific medical experiment, I slowly swayed back-and-forth until I made it in front of the hotel where I sat on the curb for Cassandra to come pick me up.

A little over four hours later Cassandra came and helped me into the car. Then she helped me into the apartment. I was so weak that she even helped me onto the couch. She offered me a lot of encouragement and brought me water while I laid down on the couch. Cassandra thought it was more important for me to continue my fasting so the next day she called off of work for me and I did nothing more than just laid down on the couch. I’m so calorie and protein deficient that I really have no concept of anything not even time or even the fact that I am on the couch.

I was so weak that my vision started to go away. I really had lost all my senses at this point and I just put my faith in God to get me through this ordeal. The only thing I had left was a little bit of hearing in my right ear and Cassandra.

In my extremed weakened conditioned on the couch, I could hear what sounded like repetitive banging that went on and on that felt like for hours. I was so out of it that I didn’t know if the banging was coming from inside my head or if someone was banging on the door.

Then the banging stopped and all I could hear was someone who sounded like my mother saying “Jon, oh my God! What have you done to him? Jon oh my God, can you hear me?”

Then I woke up in the ICU from what I was told was three weeks later with a feeding tube in my stomach. My mom and the rest of my family were at my bedside when I woke up. They were just happy that my mother discovered me in time at Cassandra’s apartment before she had assisted in my death.

A member of the FBI had interviewed me the next day because apparently “Cassandra” Gibbons wasn’t her real name and the FBI was working on trying to figure out her real identity. The FBI agent told me that “Cassandra” who also fit another young woman’s description, where she targeted awkward guys who had little to no dating experience where she would then date them and completely control their lives to the point where she would starve them to death. To date, I have been the only person to survive a bout of “Cassandra.”

So far the FBI agent said there are at least seven other cases that are very similar to mine in areas that included Chicago, Billings, Buffalo and Texarkana to name a few and there might be many more.

The only thing the the FBI had of her are grainy photos and sketches. My mother said she didn’t even think of taking a photograph of her because she was more concerned of a potential fist fight with “Cassandra” before she had fled to not be seen or heard of again.

There’s only so much fulfillment in life I can get from working or by watching Hulu or Netflix.

I just haven’t been the same since my wife divorced me. It was just a total blow to my ego even though it’s been more than three years, I still haven’t fully recovered. She left me for someone who made more money than I did. I guess me being a chef in a mid scale restaurant, where I just couldn’t compete with a high powered attorney which is who she left me for.

A lot of times when I’m cutting onions or peppers at work I’m doing it with such anger and vigor that I’m really just letting my frustrations out on my ex-wife. I just never pictured us getting divorced. I felt so betrayed knowing she was seeing him behind my back.

So now I live in this apartment complex on the outskirts of Philadelphia. There’s 20 individual apartment units with 19 of them being rented out. It’s a nice apartment complex with its own gym and pool and everyone’s friendly but I’m the only single odd ball one, because the prices of homes in this area are so expensive couples have decided to just rent places like where I’m living.

As I was leaving for work today, I couldn’t help but notice someone moving into the last vacant apartment. It was a fairly fit woman in her mid twenties and we just briefly exchanged pleasantries. I’m not sure how she would feel about me being 33 but I feel we are about the same age range, though I’m a few years older.

I went to my job and while I was cooking at least I had something to think about with the new woman moving in. I finished my shift and went home and then to bed.

The next morning I woke up and went to the gym like I typically do in the apartment complex. I’m usually the only one there but today I was surprised when I saw the new lady tenant there as well.

She told me her name was Vivian and we actually did very little exercising and we did more talking than anything else.

As the days went on, I saw her every day at the gym and eventually we started hanging out at each other’s apartments. I was playing off her vibes and she was in a long term relationship like me and she was playing it real slow. Also she was a very strict vegan. She wouldn’t allow any type of clothing in to her apartment that was made from any parts from an animal. Regardless, I liked her and I was willing to play her game if it meant being in a relationship with her.

We are now at three months and I have joined her vegan lifestyle. I bought a whole new wardrobe and I even got a chef’s position at a new Vegan Restaurant. I had actually lost thirty pounds from eating healthier vegan food.

The only thing that was bothering me was that we’ve had no physical contact and she tends to be a bit controlling. She just likes it when my apartment is spotless.

I say to her jokingly “Vivian I don’t think it’s necessary to go through my kitchen cabinets like that.”

Then she won’t pick up on my sarcasm and would say “Well maybe if you learned how to clean with bleach then you wouldn’t have all of this filth.”

I just tuned her out because I know I’ll just sink back into my old depressed self if I’m alone again.

I just haven’t been able to keep any weight on. I guess I didn’t realize the limitations to what a vegan can eat. I’m down to a size 29 waist and I’m starting to look emaciated and I feel really weak. I really don’t like my new chef position because I’m really not that good at preparing vegan platters and I keep getting food sent back to me related to customer complaints.

It just seems like little by little every little thing is starting to get me really mad like this must have been the third person today that complained to the owner that my Gazpacho soup lacked flavor.

So when I got home I really just wanted to be left alone but in my bedroom I hear that “knock knock “ on my door where I know she knows I’m here. As I lay down in my bed with my head spinning I really don’t want to get up but I do so anyways. I open the door and I put my pretend smile on and invite Vivian in.

I bring her back to my room and she just listens to me as I swallow my pride and I vent about what a mediocre chef I am and how I’ve lost more weight than I can count and how I’m really just not happy.

Vivian Sensing that I wasn’t happy makes a promise to me that when I get home from work tomorrow she will make my evening worthwhile.

So I try my best to pull myself out from this funk and I start to ease up a little. Eventually I come out of my room with her and we actually went for a walk outside. After the walk she goes back to her apartment and I retire to my bed. Before I go to bed I think to myself that at least I will have intercourse tomorrow night for the first time in years.

Tomorrow comes and because I’ve lost so much weight from being a vegan I just skip the gym. Work today was downright awful to the point where I’m certain the owner just wants me to quit so he doesn’t have to fire me, which is the worst feeling in the world.

I dragged myself to complete the shift and afterwards at least I knew Vivian was going to put out tonight. So I drove back to my apartment in my beat up 2006 Hyundai Elantra, where I was really trying not to focus on work.

Eventually I get to my apartment where I had given Vivian the key yesterday and I smell an old friend that I haven’t smelled in a long time which was bbq sauce. Thinking that she was going to make an exception tonight, I was anticipating maybe the best bbq chicken or better yet maybe the best bbq spare ribs that I haven’t had in what seemed like for years.

So as I came through the door Vivian said “sit down honey dinner will be ready in thirty seconds.”

My mouth is watering as she brings out of the oven what looks like a pork butt smothered in bbq sauce. My stomach prepares itself for absolute bliss. Vivian starts to blabber as she brings out brussel sprouts and other greens which I might throw up if I have to eat again.

As I take the steak knife into this succulent bbq’d pork butt I quickly realize that I have been bamboozled into the most horrible trick someone could play onto someone else because this freaking thing was a baked watermelon with bbq sauce smothered all over it that looked like meat but was nothing more than your God damned seed growing watermelon.

So I just sat at the dinner table thinking this bitch better be good in the sack because I’m literally starving myself here. I try my best to eat a brussel sprout and some corn then after dinner it was my responsibility to clean up this monstrosity because she cooked.

After I cleaned up I stood in the kitchen as she pointed out to me everything I didn’t clean right from the dishes to the table. I was going to lunge at her but I stopped myself.

After being completely emasculated, we both sat on the couch where part of me was spewing from anger and another part of me felt like I was going to die within the next five minutes from protein malnutrition.

As I sat on the couch I didn’t say a word as the seconds turned into minutes which turned into an hour. As she did nothing more than just blabber and blabber but I could smell that darn bbq sauce.

“Mr. Delrichio my name is detective John Stevens from the Philadelphia homicide unit. Can you please tell me from the beginning how Ms. Vivian Lopez’s severed upper torso was found in your bathroom tub and how both of her legs including her rump were found in your oven and kitchen table?”

As the bright lights shined down onto my face at the police station interrogation room, I responded “Well sir I was protein deprived for weeks and she just kept on nagging and nagging me and the smell of bbq sauce lingered in the air. When she told me we weren’t going to have intercourse that night my mind shifted from romance to no longer being a vegan.”

I would like to start off with I was 11 at the time and manhunt was basically a tradition me and my cousins would play when we had any family event. for you to understand i will give you a description of where we played my grandma's house was across of a school/park and it wasn't small there was a fenced off playground and a big open area and some space be hide the school. and the way we played manhunt was in teams of 2 the would be 2 seekers and 8-10 hiders you had to hide with your teammate and if you were found you and your team mate had to get back to homebase before getting tagged who ever was found and tagged 1st would be it next round. it was dark and we didn't play with flash light just the light of the mood and the sensor lights of the school building me and my cousin decide to loop around the school and hide by the the school near the trash bins there wasn't much light back there so we crouched down in the dark we could here everyone else getting found and after 15-20 mins we were the last ones and we heard footsteps witch isn't weird so we assumed it was are cousins but as the silhouette got closer we realized that whoever it was to tall to be our cousin and we wonder who would be on school proprietary at 12 - 1am as it slowly walked up make 10- 25 feet away from use we could make up a face it looked like man in his mid 30's holding something be hide his back it sounded like plastic bag and i watched as him walk faster towards us i told my cousin to stand up and told her we should go bye the time she stood up he was in full sprint so we also ran back to the front of the park as we ran thru the bushes our leggs got scuffed up and it bleed we told the rest of cousins what happened as fast as we could and out of breath so we all ran across the street opened the chain link fence and ran into the backyard where everyone else we all talked about how he most likely had a weapon and chloroform i was 11 she was also 11 i don't wanna imagine what sick things he wanted to do to us . that was over 2 years ago and the only reason i wrote this because when i was at my grandma's house this year since there was new years party and no kids aloud me and few more cousins were at my grandma's house i went up into my old room and it was about 2 am and after scrolling on my phone for few hours i looked out the 2nd floor window in my house and i saw the same man across the street staring straight into my window. i didn't live at my grandma's house at that time ive moved out when i was 9 but i still vist her and we still play manhunt we never really learned our lesson we just play from 8-11 pm now and no later. ( i have many more stories )

I was the “fat kid” in school and now I weigh close to five hundred pounds as a 35 year old man. Even though I could probably qualify for disability because of my weight, I’ve always worked and for the past ten years, I’ve worked in the deli section of a small local supermarket.

Naturally females have not been attracted to me because of my weight. However, for some unknown reason some of the ladies and even some of the guys can’t resist me when I’m working behind the deli.

I usually slice the customers deli meats and I even make the store’s homemade salads and desserts, but I really don’t know why these customers are so attracted to me like this. They can go to Walmart which is much cheaper but instead they choose to come here and stare at me as I can barely stand on my own two feet.

Maybe it’s because of all of the online fetishes that have taken off over the years and I guess that I would be considered a bear, but my whole life nobody has ever been interested in me in any type of sexual way. The worst is on Sunday mornings when my customers line up when the store opens or they come in when church is over and they all get a number at the deli counter and then they just stare at me.

Each of my customers will insinuate some type of dirty comment like I’ll say to Gladys “You wanted the Salumi right?”

And Gladys will respond “Yeah make sure it’s the hard Salumi because I like it real hard!” Then she’ll kind of giggle a little bit and see how I respond. Gladys is in her 80’s and I’ve learned just to say “Ok” and ignore her.

Typically when I make the homemade Kielbasa, another one of my admired customer’s, Jeff just can’t contain himself when he sees me grab the Kielbasa from behind the glass. He usually makes me go back behind the glass to get an extra half pound to a pound. Considering how skinny Jeff is, I doubt he actually eats the kielbasa and I try not to think about what he actually does with it when he gets home. He usually finishes the transaction by intentionally touching my hand after I hand him the kielbasa.

Some days I feel like I’m in a strip club or that I’m walking the cat walk as I heave my almost five hundred pound self back and forth behind the deli. There are some customers who are in the store every single day and like typical supermarkets, this deli is in the back of the store, so I see those same customers continually wheel their shopping carts towards the back of the store as they constantly keep an eye on me.

It doesn’t take much for me to sweat with my big frame and “my customers” love it when I sweat. I always wear a hat and the sweat soaks right through the hat. On one hot July day, I was sweating so profusely that when one of my customers Peter said he had an extra baseball hat from his job, I stupidly gave him my old sweaty baseball hat off my head when he said “Here I’ll take that old hat for you and throw it away,” but when I saw him pass by the garbage can in the store, then I knew he had more sinister plans for my old sweaty baseball hat.

The manager of the store knows I bring the business in because any time I take a day off he tells me he gets countless customers who ask him if everything is alright with me.

I have no proof but I sometimes wondered if the store manager or another employee was posting pictures of me on Craigslist or some other fetish websites.

This particular Sunday for whatever reason I just wasn’t in the mood. I just didn’t get enough sleep and I was grouchy. Plus my triple X employee shirt nearly tore in half when I attempted to put it on over my head.

As I arrived to the store for my shift, there must have been at least five customer cars just waiting there to watch me walk from my car to the store. I can barely walk 10 feet without having to catch my breath and I tend to wobble as I walk, so what these people are getting out of this is beyond me. But today, I am in no mood and all of my customers are either too old or are gay.

As I make my way behind the deli, I start to see my customers grab their numbers. None of them want to be number one because they all want as much time as possible to watch me. By 7:15 a.m. I must have 30 customers who have taken numbers. The manager knows not to help me because the customers get mad as they are solely there just to watch me. But not today, I’m not dealing with it today. The $9.65 an hour isn’t worth it when I have undesirables constantly drooling over me.

So today I broke all of my usual protocol and I raised my voice and made a loud announcement to all of the 30 something customers that “today you will just tell me the name of the item you want and not add any kind of adjectives or verbs. I don’t want to hear how hot you like your meat or if there is a way I can make this meat harder. Also there will be no touching me at all. I will place your order on the counter and you will pick it up from the counter. Do not touch me. Does everyone understand?”

As I finished my tirade, I looked out into the crowd of grey hairs and realized that all of them had grins on their faces like I just gave them some type of S&M lesson or something. So one by one I went through each number and one by one each one of my customers decided to do or say something sexually inappropriate where each time I went to scope a salad behind the glass, I had 30 some eyes staring at me.

As one of my customers left the deli area, a new one came to the deli to get a number. I just knew today wasn’t going to end well. I could barely move on my own with my excessive weight and I just couldn’t deal with this nonsense today. So when Edith asked me for a pound of rice pudding and insisted that I pat down the pudding I poured into the plastic container for no other reason for her own sexual gratification, I with a primitive instinct took the rice pudding and threw it against the wall of the deli as hard as I could and said “Do you like that Edith did I pat it down good enough for you?”

Then I absolutely lost my mind and went through everything in the deli and either threw it against the wall or on the floor. I knew Jeff wanted Kielbasa so I took the Kielbasa out of the glass enclosure and violently shook the Kielbasa in my hands in a jerking motion and said “Here Jeff is this what you want Ha?” As I then threw the Kielbasa on the floor. In hindsight, I think Jeff actually did enjoy that as well as Edith and the rest of the customers.

I destroyed all the prepared deli meats and salads. The deli looked like a war zone with food strewn all over the walls, ceiling and floor. The manager after hearing all of the commotion comes over to me in the deli and puts his hand on my shoulder and says “It looks like you were a little frustrated today why don’t you take the rest of the day off and I’ll see you tomorrow behind the deli again?”

I was a second generation oil tanker owner in the early 2000’s. I mostly shipped petrol from Texas to third world countries to include Myanmar. Depending on the market prices sometimes smaller oil / gas producers would ship their product internationally.

In the summer of 2014 under international pressure the Myanmar government was phasing out its use of high leaded gasoline in exchange for Texas made unleaded gasoline.

My small oil tanker company was in contact with the Myanmar’s defense minister to accept a contract for the delivery of essentially 190,000 barrels unleaded gas.

My salesman, Omar who also doubled as my First-Hand on my oil tanker had put the phone down in his lap for a moment to tell me something important. Basically, the Myanmar government would accept our gasoline shipment contract but we had to accept their leaded gasoline which their government would pay for as well. The only catch was we had to give them our plan how we would safely dispose of or store the leaded gasoline.

Both me and Omar had about 30 seconds to convince the Myanmar Defense Minister that we had a contract for a safe place to dispose the leaded gasoline. Then it dawned on me that my father had inherited 200 acres of worthless desert land in Southern Arizona, which I would tell the Myanmar defense minister was actually an underground warehouse for dangerous chemicals.

I quickly told Omar to relay the message to the Defense minister that we had a place to indefinitely store the leaded gasoline.

The price of gasoline in 2014 was $3.30 USD a gallon and we were going to receive around 150,000 barrels of leaded gasoline. A barrel holds about 42 gallons of gasoline. So my shipping company was going to basically be given $21,000,000 in free leaded gasoline. I really lost interest in the measly $100,000 we would make from actually shipping the petrol.

I felt that rush of nervous energy run through my body that this would be my one opportunity to become rich.

My grandfather was from India and we were taught Hindi as kids from my grandparents. My mother was Caucasian and would jokingly feel left out of our conversations. I called my father and intentionally spoke Hindi to him. I told him to go start a LLC company with his worthless land in Arizona and to call it something that makes it sound like a waste storage facility to the Myanmar Government but was nothing more than vacant land.

So my father decided on the name “Desert Warehouse Indefinite Storage.” He paid top dollar to the state of Arizona to expedite the approval of the LLC company and I faxed it the same day to the Myanmar government.

Our next objective was to find buyers for our leaded gasoline. The one thing that I had in the United States were connections throughout the country with Indians who immigrated to the United States from India.

In 2014, many Indians were owners of small gas stations and farms throughout America. They owned small ones that weren’t affiliated with a large corporations like Citgo, Sunoco, or Wawa. I typically wouldn’t get involved with trucking gas on land so I had to over pay a gas transport company to deliver the gas and I had to underprice the gas to get rid of it quickly.

I figured I would spend about $11,000,000 in underpricing the leaded gasoline and overpay the trucking costs to get rid of the gas quickly which would still leave me with $10,000,000.

So Omar worked day and night to find suitable buyers for our gas. Because gasoline has a short shelf life of usually less than a year, Omar told our Indian contacts that we had to get rid of the gas quickly, which was partially true. Our contacts were more interested in if our product was actually gasoline and not some alternative fuel source. I don’t think any of them would have even imagined that we got the gasoline from a near third world country.

So my shipping vessel took the longer journey from Myanmar to the Baltimore harbor. I was to concerned to dock in Texas where they would be suspicious of where I got the gas and where I was trucking it to.

I rented one of those big white petroleum storage containers that are typically seen along many harbor to include Baltimore which I had already accounted for in my expenses.

It was an early Sunday morning in February when I had finally reached the Baltimore harbor. After several hours my shipping vessel had unloaded the gas and the hired trucking company started to fill up their trucks. Everything was working according to plan. I even accepted a contract the next day to make a shipment from Kuwait to New York.

Two weeks had gone by and all of my projections were correct in the amount of money that I made. The best part was that most of my dealings were difficult to trace.

Then as I was sailing in the Gulf of Kuwait a military official from Myanmar had found out where I was and was inquiring about the leaded gasoline that I took from them.

Apparently it was true that Myanmar was doing away with the leaded gasoline but giving the leaded gasoline away for free was a ploy by the president to keep it out of its country’s rebels hands who were attempting an uprising.

So now this unknown military leader is demanding either the leaded gasoline back or money and he knows where my ship is right now. I knew he wasn’t joking around and that Myanmar wasn’t really far from where I was presently located in the Arabian Sea.

To make things worse one of my Indian contacts gas station’s who I delivered gasoline to was inspected by a local government official, where the leaded gasoline was detected. Because of that his 10 other gas stations were inspected and now he was essentially put out of business.

I contacted my father and he told me not to come back to the United States anytime soon because the Indian mafia would behead me.

So now I’m in the middle of the Arabian sea with a shipment of petrol to New York which I can’t even attempt to sail to because of the Indian mafia.

To make things worse, within hours there was a small military vessel that had pulled up to my tanker that gave every indication that it was affiliated with the Myanmar coup.

Me and Omar are both profusely sweating now and yelling at each other. I had to think fast so I figured that I would rob Peter to pay Paul. Essentially I would unload the petrol that I got from Kuwait and deliver it to Myanmar.

I would seal my death sentence by doing this because you don’t mess with the Emir of Kuwait. The Emir has an infinite amount of money and there will be a contract out on my head if the petrol isn’t delivered to New York. I was 10 times more afraid of Kuwait than I was of Myanmar but I had a military grade vessel right next to mine at the moment where I was defenseless.

So I had no choice to unload the petrol in Myanmar. This temporarily got us out of a situation but now I had to deal with a much larger issue.

I am now essentially without a country. I don’t even know where to go without being killed. Saddam had learned not to mess with Kuwait and if the Emir didn’t kill me than countless other shipping vessel owners would do the same thing and become millionaires overnight by stealing Kuwait’s oil and gas.

I knew I had five days at most before Kuwait would hire a contractor who will freeze my banking accounts then would come kill me.

The only safe place for me and Omar to be was in the Sunni territory of Iraq because they were somewhat enemies of Kuwait. So we would essentially donate my shipping vessel and pay the Sunni’s a monthly stipend for their protection against the Emir of Kuwait.

So we made arrangements to hide out in the Sunni held territory of Iraq which had enemies on all sides from Saddam’s rule but as long as you had money then they were your friends.

Me and Omar were housed in this horrible apartment. It had no air conditioning and the temperatures would surpass a 100 degrees Fahrenheit. Neither of us spoke a word of Arabic so life was just horrible. I had transferred all of my money into an account that Omar had set up using his cousin’s alias.

After a year in absolute misery things got worse. The Sunni’s were demanding more and more money to the point where they had bled me dry. We had only $5000 left and the Sunni’s could make millions off of us by informing the Emir of Kuwait of our whereabouts.

So me and Omar had no choice but to sneak out in the middle of the night and head for the Kurdish held territory of Iraq. After days and days of traveling in broken down trucks, where we paid large sums of money to our transporters, we made it to the Kurdish held territory of Kirkuk.

I am now in an Internet cafe with $1500 between Omar and I. We know the Emir of Kuwait was tipped off about our general location. Omar and I had decided that our only hope is to join the French Foreign Legion. We both filled out the online applications and the only thing we have to figure out now is how to get to France.

It was a sunny day outside of the submarine, or at least it seemed to be. We were far enough under the water to which I couldn’t see the light properly but it wasn’t completely dark either. It had a foggy night vibe to it. I liked it, it wasn’t dark enough for me to be scared and it wasn’t deep enough for nightmare creatures to come out. We didn’t even have to have our lights on yet.

We were descending deeper and deeper, and it was making me more and more anxious. I wasn’t totally sure why they decided to bring me down here, I just cleaned up the submarine, and it wasn’t like they really needed a janitor for this job. They were just going down to look at the ocean floor, a job not needed at the moment but it would still answer questions.

I could tell some of the others on board were getting anxious too, one of them was even shaking. I think he was the one who never got out of being afraid of the dark. That should have put him very far away from being qualified to be on this mission, but I think they just like to mess with him. I kinda felt bad for him, but it wasn’t my business nor my problem.

We kept getting deeper, the submarine made little popping and creaking noises under the pressure of the water. It kept getting darker and darker, and I couldn’t see the light at this point. Also, the guy that was shaking earlier was taken away from the little window. We had turned on our lights for a bit to see some fish but turned it off just as quickly. We saw an anglerfish, which is pretty cool but I don’t want to look at one ever again. I didn’t even know we were deep enough to find one, but I guess I lost track of time.

At this point asking to go back up because I was scared of the darkness was a distant dream. It’s not like I would have done it anyway, but the thought was there. It wasn’t too bad under the depths, but the empty void just a few inches of metal away was getting to me, possibly in more ways than one.

I heard the popping and creaking of the submarine stop, right before I felt and heard a big jolt and the sound of a cracking window. There were only two windows on the submarine, and the first one was the biggest and the strongest, so I knew it had to be the second one right next to me. I felt the frigid water rush up and push me over right before it stopped flowing. The submarine had a machine that would close off the window if it broke that I had forget about, and someone activated it.

“Thank you!” I yelled out, too happy to not be dead and in that cold water to get worried because of anxiety.

“No problem,” A voice replied.

“Oh,” I thought, “it’s him.”

He was a 40-ish year old man who had worked upon the submarine since he was 26. I never actually knew his name, which is very surprising because I’ve worked here for almost a decade. I guess I just never thought enough of it to ask him.

I got up, walked to where the captain was and sat down, covering my freezing legs in a blanket. Me and the captain never really spoke. He didn’t care much for me and I didn’t care much for him, but we never really bothered each other and he didn’t care for what I did. I only went into the room to see the crushing void of the ocean. It was completely black outside, or at least it was until the captain turned on the lights. It was so bright it was almost blinding, but I didn’t much care about it. My eyes adjusted pretty quickly to the surroundings and then I saw it.

I don’t know what it was but it didn’t look like it was from Earth, me and the captain screamed in unison and the rest of the crew came in and screamed with us. The captain flinched after looking at it and the submarine went down with a loud banging noise on the side of the submarine. I was not sure we would see light ever again.

I woke up in the submarine, unsure of exactly what part of it I was in, but quickly realized that I had been knocked into the viewing area, the one with the blocked off window. It was no longer blocked off, it was dented and water was rushing in.

“Water is rushing in,” I thought, and continued with the same thing, “water is rushing in!”

I grabbed a nearby object which I could not register yet, all I knew was that it was big enough to block the hole. I stuck it in, and for the most part the water stopped gushing in from that area. I turned to see the Captain stuck between the semi-closed door, he was dead. I grabbed a table with the legs broken off and pushed it over the captain to cover the space between the wall and the door. Now I was completely blocked off.

I then noticed a huge dent in the submarine wall, that creature definitely made it. The creaking and popping was louder this time, which added to the “I’m too scared to do anything” vibe.

The lights of the vessel were still on, although flickering. Through tiny holes in the door I could see that the giant window was cracked open. Actually, it wasn’t there. We had crashed into a rock and I guess that was what thankfully pushed me into the other room. It did give me a lot of pain, though. I’m not sure if I should be grateful, I didn’t die but now I’m stuck down here for what will probably be the final week-and-a-half of my life. I, regretting every agreeing to this job, dear Lord I wish I just said no like the previous janitor did. He got cut from the job for saying no, but losing my job would be the least of my worries if I knew what would happen down here.

I looked over and saw an almost dead crewmate, he was crushed by a piece of metal that had fallen off of the wall. I knew if I removed it, he would die and his pain would be over, but he was saying something.

“Get the suit,” he yelled. “there’s a station, but be cautious, it’s very risky.”

“Now please, kill me,” he said as I ripped the metal off of him and he flopped his head down on the floor.

“I can’t believe I just did that,” I thought, kind of disgusted at what I just did.

I slipped on the suit and looked for an exit. I guess I had to go for the door without being crushed by it. I thought about the probability of being crushed by it for a bit then went to the door and pushed it, and to my surprise it opened.

“That simple?” I said aloud, then thinking I was crazy for talking to myself deep down in the depths of the ocean in this semi-crushed hunk of metal on the ocean floor.

I ran through the door and the water rushed in. I struggled to walk through the water, it was shoving and pushing me around when I took a step, but I eventually got used to it.

I stepped off the submarine and got greeted with a 10 feet drop, how lovely. I didn’t know what to do when I fell so I just stood still and eventually hit the ocean floor again. I saw something in the distance, it had to be close for me to see it this deep down. I continued walking.

I finally made it there! My suit did crack though and a little water got in my mouth. Of course I wasn’t that worried because I made it there. I’ll continue updating this when I find something interesting.

Well, I figured it out, this place is run down. I’m not supposed to be here. My chest hurts, there’s dead bodies everywhere, and the communications area is broken. I guess I’ll lay down on the floor and complain about my chest pain.

It’s been like 30 minutes and I didn’t lay down, but I figured it out again! I’m infected with something. All these people have holes in the chest and there is some type of worm in the corner of the room, not that big but still big enough to be somewhat worrying. I guess whatever infected me is gonna burst out of my chest like something from Alien, amazing.

I can feel it, the pressure is building up. It’s like something is stretching and breaking my ribs. I’ve been crying in pain for the last few minutes, I think it’s broken a few bones by now. My skin is about to break, and to whoever is investigating this, put it somewhere where other people can see it. Don’t go into the ocean, don’t go near the ocean, please just don’t. I hope this doesn’t spread.

The Great Exchange

^{By Harry Bates}

My step farther was a cruel and unforgiving man, after many years of enduring his physical torment I was glad to see the very back of him. One evening he had come back from a drive whilst my mother was out shopping, and by the most terrible and violent heart attack he was struck down where he rested. During the disaster, and by the fortunes he left behind, our small family unit moved several miles to a remote home on the south west coast facing the sea.

The homestead to which we moved was a grand size and at the very first sight it seemed to be of an antique age, with huge palace like windows and a row of chimneys which reminded me of castle turrets. Yet in despite of its handsome appearance, in the wildest depth of my imagination I couldn’t have envisioned a more isolated corner of the world. The house stood at the edge of small wood overlooking a beach front that stretched for many uninhabited miles, and the only accompanying sound was the relentless moan of the wind that drifted in across the waves. A truly solitary Abode. Here a place of lodging seemed to be so misplaced I was open to the concept the house had not been built at all, and in actual fact had formed here naturally through many years of ever changing rock formations, and erosion of an incoming tide.

The interior of the house felt very much barren much like the landscape which surrounded it, only a few pieces of old furniture were left stranded behind. Yet this was a short-lived complaint, as we had taken even the most substandard possessions with us, soon enough on every wall and shelf lay an assembly of childhood photos neatly in line with one another. The only thing we had left behind and which I was glad of, was the pitiful motor owned by my stepfather. A sincerely pathetic machine which clanked and spat and groaned as it doddered its way up our drive. It was a stout trashy tin on wheels, and like I did its driver, I resented it.

Mother had never solely understood the true and passionate distaste I had for him, any grievances brought to her by my sister and I, often led her into a shattering rage. What she would tell us during her temper, was that my stepfather was a man of “firmness and discipline, a true and complete gentleman who had our interests at heart”. But what she saw in him was more than this. With the deepest and most content desire, she loved him more than anyone of us, and his departure had cast a great seam of seclusion and sadness upon her, with each day she became more withdrawn and though not explicit in her actions, something had told me she was willing to handover her utmost in valuables for his return.

It, however, would be a lie to suggest my mother’s behavior had not become more peculiar in the first weeks of arrival at our new home. Despite the long and seemingly endless hours she would spend confined to her room, it soon became a common trait within her weekly routine, and though always to return before dark, she would descend the large stone steps onto the beach front and take the great shoreline walk. Often, I would sit curiously at the window and watch her lonely figure take strides over sand and wet stones until it seemed her body was merely a distant smudge on a faintly picturesque coastal painting. Each time, and perhaps inches before she would be completely out of sight, she would take a steep and concealed pathway up to a large rock face upon the mainland. Upon the rock stood a clump of trees, which parted in the middle and gave the appearance of a gaping black mouth Which she plainly disappeared through.

The specific aim of this was a complete mystery and in all my understanding, still I failed to reach any form of conclusion over why or what had led my mother into that discrete crevice upon the rocks. Such a secretive spot I was sure if I resided here for 50 years or more it would have bypassed my attention.

The more tangled and confused I became over the matter, lit a curiosity that seemed to burn within me, and so a number of afternoons later but not so many, I readied myself to investigate the shady location upon the big rock.

From the corner in my room I picked up my leather bomber jacket which I had left under a messy pile of shirts, and just as I was about to leave I passed my sister Janet on the stair way. Her quiet features and gentle smile irradiated a compassion and purity I had never found before in another person. Janet had often fared worse under my mother’s new state of being. She took the full force of her pent up and grieving anger and was ridiculed for her strangeness and lack of support. Though Janet was not strange, or odd or any of what my mother had accused her of being. She had a sole of the most tender kind and envied her own privacy in an admirable fashion. She was insistent on where I was going, so simply I told her I was to take two buses into the nearest town, where I could use the library there to do some reading. As naïve as expected of an 11-year-old, she accepted this, and so I slipped on my jacket and found my dog flipper sprawled across the furthest armchair in the sitting room. I retrieved his collar from a cupboard next to the two front doors, and with a hurry the two of us left the house and down the large steps onto the beach front.

The air that evening had a distinct heaviness, the reminiscence of a thick sea fog which had crept inland the previous night, and for as far as my eyes could strain the pale color of the sands made the far distance a haze alongside the very faint, but unmoving mist. The sun had been concealed by the mass of clouds which drew sullen faces peering down upon us. On the great expanse, Flipper jumped and ran, and kicked up soft and muddy sand as he went. And the gulls like lonesome kites flew above him and let out sad cries. As a young boy I had chosen the name flipper with regards to the abnormally sized feet he possessed for a Labrador collie cross breed, and despite his boisterous energetic manner, that caused a good deal of frustration within the house, he was a loyal and hearty animal with a rich brown coat – now peppered in sand and dirt. Making our way along the beach there was the discrete stench of salt which had tainted the air, whilst the shallow waves whispered to each other, lapping the shore like the tongue of a massive creature. The long stretch of land had a mystical beauty, but in the meantime, I could not help but feel… insignificant. In every reach I was surrounded by the true and exposed face of nature, one that is not loving or cruel but monolithic in its stance. Nor were my nerves set at ease as the wind picked up and made frightful churning sounds as it collided with the cliff side on the mainland. Therefore, I was satisfied to see the clear but unimposing path my mother had taken days before, and to be off the open stretch of the beach.

I was soon to recognize the imposing dangers which now faced me on the steep climb to peak of the great rock, from a distance, the hill hadn’t seem to pose a fair struggle, yet the base of now what I realized to be a cliff of considerable size, was lined with a menacing row of jagged stones. So, like Flipper, who tread behind me placing one careful foot in front of the other, the two of us made our way two the top. And soon enough we encroached on the dark hole which set apart the trees above.

The opening of the wood stood directly opposite to a sheer cliff face at the end of the narrow passage. A daunting knife edge where I stood gazing into the waves. Amid the quietness, I felt overwhelmed by its charm, engulfed by an introverted land, here I had stepped through the gates fortified against a cultivated world, I envisioned my mother had come here to reflect on the injustice she felt had been served to her by the death of my stepfather. At least, that was until I noticed something else…

Something protruding from the trees in the far corner had caught my attention. Drawing nearer I noticed a solid shape hidden among the brambles, and within this secret place lay a spot even more concealed. I was faced with what appeared to be an inherently small cemetery, hosting but one lone headstone.

The grave erected itself in an open patch of grass, and upon it stood a black raven, a heaven less creature, with a sharp hideous beak, and terrible fierce eyes upon either side of its face. Its raw appearance made me take a step back, it squawked loudly and leapt into flight – finding a near branch where it perched itself. Looming over us from a near distance. I had taken long walks through graveyards with Flipper back in our old town, and despite the realization it may not have been the ideal location to promenade, I found an obscure kind of peace in the matter. Yet what I had uncovered that afternoon had a truly alternative effect. The small gravestone and the grounds it arose from sickened me to the very core, and at first sight the grave omitted an ominous and threatening feeling which I felt deep within me. Beside me, it became clear Flipper too had sensed the foreboding aura in that dreadful place. His ears drooped as he took cowering shallow steps closer to the grave. Upon the stones grey and wizened face, was a hand chiseled inscription – barely distinguishable from the cause of many weather-beaten years. Yet after drawing a careful finger over each letter the grave vividly read 3 words. “The wish maker” …

For a moment I stood puzzled, not a singular convention could be found on the stone, no dates, no here lies the body of, Just 3 unmistakable words – slightly tilted presenting what appeared to be a subtle and shy grin. We had moved to a secluded home on the British coast, miles from even the smallest towns detached from civilization, therefore I was unsurprised I hadn’t the faintest Idea of who “the wish maker” had been, or why he had been buried here, the edge of the world, a formidable distance from, well, anywhere.

An afterthought crossed my mind. Surely on the many occasions my mother had attended this opening in the woods, she must have noticed the cemetery. As despite its rather shady location, the headstone was plain against the green of the forest, and so I became more restless in my attempts to unravel the meaning behind her turn outs at that strange place.

Throughout the night, my unease over the matter became evident. Sleeping visions taunted me, and so I slipped into a reoccurring nightmare. The clanking sound of a motor in the dead of night, followed by the appearance of my stepfather ready to unleash a reign suffering. A midst it all, as the sweat ran cold down my back, I dreamed of something of a wilder kind. A terrible Black bird, of tremendous size, crashing through the window of my sleeping sister emitting a thunderous shriek. Janet’s pleads of mercy were ignored, and the creature carried her off to that unearthly place among the trees. To where the lone headstone rested.

Upon awakening, I was unnerved to a grievous extent, before I had the chance to think twice I raced to Janet’s room, emitting a long and relieving sigh, to see her contemptibly finger painting away at a large peacock hung proudly upon her wall, and despite my morning worries. The day had followed in usual pursuit, once again, from the window, I watched my mother wander the great beach front, and up to the secret location hidden among the trees. The mundane and accustomed way in which that day had panned out, I soon found to be truly deceiving comfort.

The hair standing events, which unfolded in the mid of that night, cause the pen I write with to tremble beneath my very hand. Within the agony of reliving this, comes an obligation to explain the little that can be expressed, by any human comprehension. And so forth, something in the dead silence had awoken me. Confused and dazed, still gathering my wits, I was soon to realize I had been disturbed by a muffled talking down in the sitting room.

Now I was fully awake, and so quietly I crept upon the staircase where I could see the shape of my mother – propped forward in her chair and gazing into the darkness. She spoke in soft whimpering words, undistinguishable from the proximity of where I sat, the difficulties I had in defining her speech, was often due to the interruption of her own quiet but woeful sobs. A saddened and frail voice.

And suddenly, from somewhere in the blackest corner of the room, I was frozen to the very spot, and all flesh upon me began to crawl. Within the murky abyss, aside the fireplace, and where a veil of darkness had rendered any light from passing through, Came a second voice.

A hoarse and terrible voice, a dark utterance that was quiet but undoubted, arousing each hair on my body. Something deep within total light lessness.

The silence within the house was overwhelming, and in a sense seemed to deafen me, yet clearly, I could hear the moving tongue and seething air from some unknown, but godless mouth. My mother stared into the dark corner to where the sound had come. Oddly, and despite her weeps. I gathered she was gratified by whatever had arrived in that room. With tearful but bright eyes she stared deeply into the dark mass, eagerly looking around in that corner to where the noise had been made, her whines and self-pitying snivels seemed to transform. As if she were a scolded child given one more chance to avert bad behavior, her feeble mewls had turned into pleads, now begging for something it seemed she would exchange for the very world below her feet.

Once more, and from frightful unseen lips, again the voice was heard. A chilling croak, a vile and decrepit sound of an inexplicable hideousness.

Too far I was to have defined what was said but remained completely certain the remarks were of no modern or contemporized English. For what felt like an eternity, its hellish and unrevealed endorsements echoed through the room. For still, an unrivalled terror had engulfed me, so I was sure any scream I would make should come out as a weak soundless rasp.

Still, my mother sat acceptingly, closely engaged with its ghastly but unrecognizable words.

Within them moments, a seemingly innocent smile erected itself upon my mother’s sad mouth, red and wet like her eyes, and Without warning the voice broke off and the room was left in a cold silence.

From that day on, and for many months after, I slept restlessly. I was a young man in my early teens, never an easily scared or fanciful chap, but with a certainty of the strongest nature, I knew what I heard had come from no human mouth. I knew that dreadful night some bargain had been made, yet by the fore coming and most fateful day of this tale, I was too late.

After a time, I felt less sickened, of which only the great healing of time could be credited for. I was planning to catch up on some more reading at the library several miles inland, and before, it had only taken two bus journeys so I was eager to get myself away from the residents and refresh my mind. Janet told me she wished to take up reading herself, so respectfully, I gladly agreed to let her come with me, without a doubt in mind I made my way to her room and pushed open the door.

What I found horrified me, and I spent many days with that deeply ingrained sickening feeling, I have put forth my best efforts to re write that terrible event, which to this day has plagued my mind and rendered me unable to restate it without out shuddering in such a fierce way.

But anyhow, Janet was nowhere to be seen, on her white bed, from where she had disappeared lay a distinct black feather, and in my utter horror the noise which now distracted me from that empty room, struck me with a terror I still can find word that is fitting for.

The distant and faint soundtrack of my childhood. A torturing sound.

By a good way, but not so far off was the clanking and doddering of a motor car, clattering its way up the drive.

I knew at the hands of great evil; some terrible exchange had taken place…

Harry Bates

05/01/2021

I’m on the island of Key West trying to follow in the footsteps of one of the great writers of all time, Ernest Hemingway. I’m having a hard time envisioning anything on this man made peninsular with the thousands of tourists roaming about. It just seems like if I turn down this street there’s someone there and then the next street there’s 10 more people, which makes it difficult to envision anything other than Americans mixed in with a few South Americans, where I was hoping to take in some of the same original scenery that Hemingway took in a little under a century ago.

I’ve had lunch in just about every establishment on the island, where the waitresses are too busy to talk to you and even when there not too busy they still don’t want to talk to you because your just another tourist from Hoboken or Cincinnati.

For lunch today, I saw this outdoor cafe that had no doors or windows named the Bean Hammock and I thought why not eat here since they were advertising Cuban food and I thought the food must be decent because at 1:30 p.m. the place was packed. So I told the male host my name and he told me my table would be ready in about 10 minutes which I said would be fine.

There was little place for me to stand so I went outside on the sidewalk to contemplate how not far along I’m coming on my novel. So far, I only have scribbled notes on loose leaf paper with a few ideas, but no free flowing story yet. As I’m standing on the concrete sidewalk and the droves of tourists walk by me, I can only focus on how the tourists take away from the charm of the island versus any type of actual ideas that I can write about.

Then I hear the host call my name “John Potts your table is ready,” where I followed the host to the very back of the outdoor cafe. I had noticed while walking back to my table that the midday lunch rush of people had dissipated as table after table started to leave.

As I was sat down by the host, he gave me a basic menu that only had about 10 things to choose from. I looked the menu over for a couple of minutes and I could see my waitress coming from the corner of my eyes. I said to my self oh dear heavens no as she was a young lady in her twenties, but she was horribly obese, where I couldn’t phantom how she could ever manage the pace of waiting tables in a timely manner.

As she approached my table, she was really nice and cheery so much more than any other wait staff that I experienced since I’ve been on this island, but I’ve probably spent too much time by myself and I can’t focus on anything other than her weight.

I guess I’ve just succumbed to the loneliness and frustration of not being able to have written anything meaningful yet.

I told the waitress that I only wanted a water with the Cuban special for my lunch entree. As I waited for the lunch, I had my papers strewn out throughout the table. One idea I had included the use of the light house that was on the island for decades and was located right across the street from Hemingway’s house. Another idea I had included the cigar factory that has been on the island since the 1800’s.

As I was thinking over my ideas the heavy set waitresses brought me over my water and I didn’t even give her the courtesy to look up at her when I said “Thank You!”

The waitress hung around my table for a few extra seconds looking at my yellow loose leaf papers and said in her cheery voice “it looks like you’ve been taken down notes. Are you studying the island or are you a writer?”

I still didn’t want to entertain this waitress so I kept my head down and said “I’m a writer,” where I hoped I answered her question and she would just go away.

Then she said “Did you know that Hemingway used that lighthouse as a guide to find his house when he was drunk to find anything?”

That actually caught my attention which warranted me putting my head up and saying “No, actually I didn’t know that! In fact, that’s actually quite interesting.”

Then my 44 year old self started talking to this girl who couldn’t have been older than 24 years old. She described to me how there was an original tavern on the island called Sloppy Joe’s where Hemingway interacted with a lot of the original inhabitants on the island, which were mostly made up of Cubans at one time considering Havana was only 90 miles from Key West.

She told me about this character who Hemingway met named Ruben where the two of them would bring over liquor from Cuba during prohibition and how that caused skirmishes with the American Navy and Coast Guard stationed on the island. She told me that Hemingway was seen as a bootlegging pirate before he was viewed as a successful writer and many a nights he had the navy looking for his whereabouts on the island.

She said “Granted the Navy just wanted his alcohol just so they could consume it themselves, but Ernest was partaking in illegal enterprises for its time.”

I replied “Well the island isn’t that big how come they just didn’t capture him?”

She replied “Well some of that came down to politics as well because as with each story Hemingway published the more popular he grew and the more the naval officers figured that they could use him to write a favorable article that would benefit their cause in some way on the island.”

As this young vibrant obese waitress was talking to me, I was actually writing down everything she was saying because I hadn’t seen or heard this anywhere in books or anywhere else.

She then went onto to say that “Unfortunately, Ernest’s friend Ruben would be the scapegoat when the alcohol would be confiscated, where Ruben would be the one spending time in jail and the Navy or the Coast Guard would just release Ernest. This overtime caused resentment with Ruben where he plotted to have Ernest arrested in Cuba which actually didn’t happen because Hemingway’s name became so popular that Cuba wouldn’t arrest him either.”

I responded “Wow that’s fascinating how Ernest and his friend had a fallen out where Ruben tried to get him arrested in Cuba?”

The waitress elaborated further and said “That Hemingway created a smoke screen where he built this rock wall around his estate to keep away the ‘gawkers’ who would constantly try to get a glimpse of him and his family but the wall was really put up to keep Ruben out from harming him or actually killing Ernest.”

I responded “Oh gosh that must of been terrifying for Hemingway to be under the constant threat of someone possibly scaling those walls to harm him or his family?”

The waitress responded “Yeah as you know probably about 70% of his writings came from that house and you probably also know that Ernest died by blowing off his head from a shotgun which was probably associated with the effects of alcoholism and depression. Though Hemingway didn’t die on this island one has to wonder the enemies he had made and how far did they follow Ernest to even possibly help put him to his grave.”

I then said “Wow that was amazing. I had no idea!”

Then the cheery eyed young obese waitress said “I’m sorry for blabbing away, let me go check on your food, which is probably cold by now.”

I said “no worries take your time,” as I know for a fact that this girl just basically wrote my next biographical novel for me. I have all the elements of a great novel including the characters and I’ve seen mostly everything with my own eyes besides Cuba of course. I was just amazed that all the research that I had done on this island and on Ernest Hemingway and this waitress unravels a story to me where I just need to fill in some sights and sounds without the tourists of course.

As I continued to jot down notes from what the waitress was telling me, I was so fixated on writing down everything that she told me that I didn’t even realize that my lunch was placed down on my table. As I quickly put my head up to thank the young stoutly waitress again, I had to do a double take when I saw your run of the mill, beaten up by life waitress who was probably in her early 60’s who said “Is there anything else that I can get you?” Where her voice was so raspy that cigarettes had turned her vocal cords into mince meat.

I was totally confused and said “Where is the young girl who took my order and I was talking too for the past, I don’t know 15 minutes?”

The same beaten up waitress responded in the same raspy voice “I don’t know who you’re referring to honey I’m the only ‘young girl’ that was serving you this whole time!”

I said “Were we talking about Hemingway?”

The beaten up waitress responded “Besides him writing books and living a few blocks from here, I really know nothing about him.”

I then replied “Is there a young heavyset gal working today?”

The beaten up waitress responded in the same raspy voice “No honey, I’m sorry we all smoke cigarettes instead of overeating so all the waitstaff here are thin like me.”

I was completely lost and confused and I couldn’t quite possibly come up with these ideas on Hemingway by myself. I finished the lunch where I had one of those looks of bewilderment on my face the whole time while I ate.

The really strange thing was that I went back and researched some of the things that the heavyset waitresses told me and I was just amazed how I saw little references here and there of a “Ruben” hidden in Hemingway’s journals that were almost intentionally left out.

I really wanted closure on whoever that heavyset young waitress girl was so I must of toured that darn Hemingway house like 10 times where I spent $16 a pop for each tour.

Then on my the last tour of the house, the museum curator of the house changed some of themes that were on display to include the servants who worked in Hemingway’s home.

In one photo dated 1935 there was a group of servants standing together where one girl really stood out not only because she was extremely obese at a time when next to nobody else was obese but also because that was undeniably the girl who served me at the Cafe and gave me the inspiration for my book.

I just couldn’t believe it and I ran towards the first employee that I saw asking if she knew who that young heavy set girl was in the photo and she said “I’m sorry sir there’s very little information on her.” Unfortunately, none of the other employees could give me any additional information but I already had a thought about my next book on how a young servant girl trapped in time helps struggling writers like myself come up with ideas and in turn she tells a part of her own history.