Thursday, March 31, 2011

The Bird Cage



I can't escape,



As I awoke, shocked, from a fitful slumber I was met with a severe pain in my chest. Brushing my fingertips over the bumps of my ribs, I located an area of extreme tenderness. Carefully, I raised myself from the plush surface of my bed, cradling my injured side.

Making my way to the nearest bathroom, I lifted the loose night shirt that adorned my torso; staring back at my reflection in the pristine mirror, I found nothing wrong with my chest. Not a bruise, not a cut, not a single mark. But still, the intense pain persisted - I could almost pick out a steady rhythm to the pulse-like senation, and out of the corner of my eye I thought I saw a crow.


It won't stop, this persisting agony - my attempts at calming myself are moot. Breaths ragged, skin slick and shiny with sweat, my mouth dry; this was too much. I could hardly focus at work - other people can see it, I'm sure. Reluctantly, I poked my head into my boss's office, asking with all the strength I could muster a simple, "I need..."

He only had glance at me before his head bobbed up and down in a nod.

"It's fine."


It seems the only constant anymore is the radiating pain and the crow. The crow, I bgan seeing him again and again; he wasn't just a shadow I'd catch in my peripheral vision. In the beginning he may have been, but now I'd see him sitting, perched comfortably on my dresser. At first I was scared, throwing anything I could get my hands on at that ink-black bird, attempting to rid myself of him. But nothing worked, the objects just passed through him. He'd stare, unmoving, occasionally turning his head to the side - looking at me almost questionably.

I'm hallucinating, I must be. I'm going crazy, I must be.


I can't do this. I can't - this pain, that CROW. This is driving me insane. Stumbling to my small washroom, I once again lifted the hem of my shirt - and as before, there was not a single thing amiss on my pallid skin. But still, the "thump thump thump" continued on. it wasn't always there, you know, sometimes the pain would dissipate - leaving only a soreness. It seems the more distressed I become the worse it gets - with every rabid beat of my heart the pain escalates.

This needs to stop, I'm suffocating.


Surprisingly, I felt not a thing as the sharp blade punctured my chest. I slowly followed the line of my rib, stopping midway, blood spilling out in small rivulets. I set the crimson-stained blade aside, next to that bloody crow, and with shaky hands I poked my finger into the wound. I licked my lips, concentrating. As I made it further into my flesh, pulling it away slightly, the crow squawked. I whipped my head up at break-neck pace, settling my wide eyes on the bird.

That was the first time it hd ever made a sound since I had began hallucinating it.

As my finger pulled the skin of my chest back furhter, exposing the bone, the crow squawked again and again. With every tear and feverish scratch the pain faded; with every rib I exposed the searing burn receded. I became more frenzied in my ctions until my whole rib cage was bare to see. I touched the white of my bones - despite all my missing flesh, I didn't feel scared; rather, I was intrigued. The smell of iron was thick, the crow's loud noises oppressive - but I felt a sort of calm. I looked to the puddle of skin and blood and over to the mirror. What I saw staring back horrified me.

No, no, this can't be right.

Small, beady black eyes.

The crow came closer to me, since ceasing its squawking, and looked intently at my bare chest.

What laid within my chest cavity was a small, jet-black bird...

A crow.

(This story is credited to a person called Orihara.)


(I'll type down what it says in each image because some of the writing is very light and I may have to resize the images. NOTE: These images may not be in order.)

This is Lisa. She is my friend. My mom and dad can't see her so they said she is an imaginary friend. Lisa is a nice friend.

Today I tried to plant a flower in the yard. I tried to plant it by the sandbox but Lisa said that's where her daddy is sleeping so I planted it in a cup of dirt.

Lisa is at school with me today. I brought her for show and tell but Ms. Monroe got angry because she can't see Lisa. Lisa got sad so she hid the chalkboard eraser.

Today Jonathin Parker stole my pencil sack. Mrs. Digman couldn't find it so she made him give me his pencils. Lisa came to school too but Mrs. Digman couldn't see her but she said she believes that Lisa is real.

I miss Lisa. Daddy is really busy at work. He didn't come home at the weekend. Mom is angry at him. I'm going to write a letter for Lisa.

Dear Lisa, I miss you. Please come back. I'm sorry when my dad was mean. You are my best friend.

Old Photo

During one summer in the 1950s, a group of friends found an old abandoned house in the woods. The entered to see what they could find. There was a hole dug in the ground filled with water. Three of the boys decided to swim, while the other stayed dry and took pictures of the house with his camera.

Thirty some years later, in 1982, a man was hiking and found an old camera. He took it to the local police station to try and find out who it belonged to. The police got the film developed. Most of the photos had been destroyed, save for a vew.

This picture is the last picture that was taken. It is unknown what happened to the boys' faces or why the series of pictures abruptly ended. The kids have never been identified and their bodies were never found. What is happening in this image still remains a mystery.


Earlier this week, on Sunday night, I had a dream in which I knew I was asleep. I was stood outside of my house in torrential rain at night and thought I needed to get inside in order to wake up. I approached the front door and placed my knuckles onto the door-window ready to knock. I knew that my next action would bring me one step closer to consciousness. The moment I knocked on the door, the thudding sound of the knock was so loud, so frightening and so real that it woke me from my sleep.


I jumped up immediately and listened out for a further knock at the door. I was roasting hot, sweating profusely and my heart was beating so hard, I don’t think I would have been able to tell the difference between a knock at the door and my thudding heart beat. After I came to my senses and realised that the possibility of the door knocking at the exact moment of dreaming it is incredibly low, I fell back to sleep.

Monday, the very following night, I had the same dream. Right back outside the front of the house in the pouring rain again, intensely staring at the house. I slowly walked to the front door, this time it was open. I walked in and went straight into the kitchen. I opened the cutlery drawer and pulled out the largest meat knife I have. I looked into my reflection through the blade of the knife.

If you stare directly into the reflection of your eyes for long enough, eventually it will hit you that someone is looking at you. You know it’s your reflection, but for just a second, you forget and become self conscious, as if it’s somebody else behind your reflection’s eyes. It didn’t take a second of looking at my reflection through the blade to realise that somebody else was looking back. The moment I realised it was somebody else wearing my grin in the reflection, I slammed the cutlery drawer shut.


Again, I shot up out of bed. The sound of the metal clanging in the drawer as it abruptly closed was so defined and so crystal clear, it couldn’t have been a dream. Really spooked this time, I went downstairs into the kitchen. I was half asleep and had to check. I opened the cutlery drawer. I was relieved to find the knife still in the drawer. I closed it and went back to bed. It took a little longer this time, but I fell asleep.

Tuesday night, my dream started with that grin in the reflection. From the look in his eyes, I could tell that the man in the reflection knew he was looking back at someone confused and scared. I found myself looking into the reflection of the knife, already in my hand, while stood outside of my house in the rain. The front door was open again. I walked into the house, directly up the stairs and into my bedroom. I looked at the bed and saw someone sleeping in it. It was me.

I knew what I was going to do, but also knew that I couldn’t stop myself. Instead, I kept think over and over again “Wake up”. My emotions were both in two extremes at once. I was terrified, but at the same time I was thrilled and excited to kill. “WAKE UP!”

I shot right out of bed and stood up. I was absolutely drenched in sweat, roasting hot, but relieved to find nobody stood in front of me with a knife. It took a few seconds to realise that I was gripping something tight in my hand. I knew what it was even before I looked down at it and saw my reflection in it. It was the meat knife, and this time the reflection in it looked terrified.

I don’t sleep anymore.

(This story is credited to a person called hewhoknows.)


As a fan of TV DX, I always catch weird things from faraway places. Usually it's a transmission or two that I can't find an explanation for and I usually forget them almost immediately. But there was one that I will never forget...

I was looking for a signal one night and caught a high definition test card. It was the old Indian test card, but the Indian had no face; it was just a skull accompanied by white noise. I kept my hand away from the control and prepared myself to see what this was.

Suddenly, an episode of Spongebob Squarepants started. It was dubbed in an unknown language; it didn't matter to me, so I kept watching.

The episode started with Spongebob going down to the kitchen. In this episode, he found a chest; he looked at it for a moment before opening it. A monster that could only have come from a Lovecraft story popped out. It filled Spongebob's holes with its tentacles until it was entirely inside the sponge's body. Spongebob stood up, his body covered in goo and his face deformed. The image was burned in my mind and will never leave.

Spongebob walked out of his house like a zombie until he arrived at Patrick's. The stone opened and Spongebob's tongue came out; it stuck to Patrick's head and started sucking. After a while, Patrick fell down and Spongebob walked up to him. The tentacles jumped out of the sponge and entered the starfish's body, changing him into an equally horrible form.

The two walked around town like zombies, violently killing anything they could find. Both arrived at Sandy's house, violently entering as the water flooded the dome. Both immobilized Sandy with their tongues and began to sodomize and rape her with them. Some of the images will never be forgotten.

After finishing with Sandy, both Spongebob and Patrick became skeletons; Sandy stayed still, crying while the dome flooded with water. The episode ended after that and the signal cut.

I have never seen any other transmission from that frequency.


It's funny how things work. We have giant metal vehicles that fly through the air. We have HD video that you can carry in your pocket. We have music that can be accessed any time from devices that use touch screens. But when something like this happens...something so stupid...something so simple...there's nothing to be done. Nothing that can be done, even with our advances.

I woke up three weeks ago in this place. It's a medium-sized room with concrete walls, floor and ceiling. In spots, the concrete is stained and cracked. A single light bulb hangs from the ceiling and sometimes it flickers. It's not a very powerful bulb, but enough to see by.

I woke up next to a woman. I didn't recognize her, but that didn't matter. I didn't know where I was. I didn't even know how I'd gotten here. There didn't seem to be any doors or windows or openings of any kind. Just a concrete box with me and a sleeping woman in it.

I woke her up after a few moments of dazed confusion. She didn't scream, which was my worry, and instead asked questions calmly.

"Where are we?" she asked.

"I don't know."

"How did I get here?"

"I don't know."

"Who are you?"

I smiled. Finally, a question I could answer. "I'm Tom," I said. "Tom Greene. I woke up here just a minute ago and I was hoping you'd have an idea about it. But since you don't...well, we may as well get acquainted. You know my name, what's yours?" I stuck out my hand.

She shook my hand. "I'm Melissa," she replied. "Melissa Dobbs. Last I remember, I was--" she froze and creased her eyebrows. "Did you hear that?" I listened but didn't hear anything. I shook my head. "What was it?" I asked.

"It sounded like...I don't know...a thump."

We sat in silence for a few minutes, listening for another noise. There was nothing but silence as long as we sat there. After so long, I just shook my head.

"I don't think there's anything there, Melissa," I said. "But if you did hear a sound, that means we're close to the surface."

"The surface?" She repeated. "What do you mean, the surface?"

"Well, the way I figure, we're probably underground. Where else would someone keep a concrete box? Another thing I'm wondering is how they even got us in here. It all seems like a dream, you know?" I sighed and leaned my back against the wall. This couldn't be happening, not really.

"I know what you mean," Melissa said. "It just doesn't seem real. This doesn't just happen. This can't just happen. I--"

This time I heard the noise, too. It was like a thump, but a squishy thump. Like if you hit an animal with a heavy object. Images of bleeding animals flashed in my mind, pictures of infants being hit with hammers and baseball bats. I almost jumped, I was so surprised. Why would I think that? That wasn't normal. None of this was normal. This place and that sound and these thoughts. None of this was right.

"Did you--"

"Yeah, I heard it," I interrupted Melissa. I started to ask if she saw things, but...she would think I was crazy. Being here was making me a little stressed, sure, but crazy? No. No, and I wouldn't let her think that.

Melissa and I spent the rest of the day discussing the situation and listening for the noises. It seemes they came at regular intervals, once every ten minutes or so. I thought maybe we were near an automatic machine. Sometimes when the sounds came, I would have the flashes of terrible things. It was disgusting and wrong, but it happened. I couldn't help it. I wondered if Melissa had the flashes, but I didn't dare ask her. If my only companion thought I was crazy...well, I didn't think it would end well.

We had thought it was some sort of hostage-taking at first. We thought we had been taken captive by criminals. That's what we'd decided. It was a normal assumption. About 30 thumps into the day, though, our thoughts changed.

We were hungry. if the thumps really were coming every ten minutes, then thirty thumps meant we'd been awake for five hours. I could hear my stomach growling and once I even heard Melissa's. We were thirsty more, though. My throat was sore and dry, but we had no water or food.

We were talking about what we'd do when we got out of this box when it happened. The interviews and books and maybe even movies that would come. We could both get rich off of this. We tried to remain positive like that. Suddenly, everything went black. It felt like only a second and I didn't realized my eyes had closed until I opened them.

Melissa and I woke up at the same time. We were confused. Somehow we'd blacked out at the same time, woken up at the same time, and...

"Food," Melissa whispered. "There's food...and water..." She was staring into a corner of the room where before there'd been nothing, but now there were two trays with food and water on them. My stomach rumbled and I didn't care where they had come from or how we'd blacked out.

"Let's eat," I said, grabbing our trays. "We can talk about it in a few thumps."

melissa actually laughed. "Funny how the way we measure time can change just like that," She said, grabbing her food. "But I guess it's just as good as minutes or hours."

The food was good. Warm. Steak and potatoes. A scoop of ice cream for dessert. A liter bottle of water to drink. The steak was precut for us, so no knives. The forks we were given were dull, very dull. No way we could hurt anyone with them. Not that we would be able to regardless, since it seemed they could induce loss of consciousness whenever they wanted to. I got the feeling that once we were done eating we'd just black out again and the forks and trays would be gone.

We ate in silence and then my guess was confirmed. We lost our trays and our forks and again we were just in an empty concrete box. We never actually talked about it. We kept busy talking about other things. After another 50 or so thumps we went to sleep.

It was hard at first to sleep with the thumps. But as with anything, you grow accustomed to it. You grow accustomed to the thumps and the flashes and the blackouts. Just as people grow accustomed to planes and phones and iPods.

This is adaptation.

This is evolution.

I don't know how long we slept, but every day there seemed to be less time in between each thump. Each day, though, the food seemed to get a little better. The first day's food was good, but it seemed bland. Each day the food tasted better, as if a reward for losing time between thumps.

This is conditioning.

By day ten, there was barely any time between thumps. The food was delicious. We couldn't get enough. Melissa and I got along well enough. We were becoming pretty big friends and at around day five we started having sex. We didn't love each other, but we were both adults. We both wanted something to keep us busy and entertained. Why not sex?

Day twelve, though, things took a turn. They went bad.

We were eagerly awaiting lunch. We were ready for the blackout, ready to delight in the delicious food we'd come to expect. We weren't thinking about escape. We weren't thinking about anything. Thumps, flashes, food. Thumps, flashes, food.

The flashes had gotten worse. So much worse. The thumps came so fast now, the flashes were in my head all the time. Babies, flayed open and dead. Dogs, limbs severed and laying in pools of blood. Cats, with their eyes pulled out and their organs ripped from their abdomens. All just animals. Dead animals, their lives that had been so important before, now useless. Now nothing. Now just a heap of bloody regret.

This is my future.

This is the death of all.



When I awoke, I didn't smell food like I was used to. Melissa was already awake, crying.

"What's the matter?" I asked her. "Why are you awake already?"

"I didn't fall asleep this time," She whispered. "They...they came in. They came in straight through the wall. They were so...hideous. They...they..." She started to sob.

"Calm down, Melissa," I said. I went to her and put my arm around her. She latched onto me weakly. "Tell me what happened."

"They don't have mouths, Tom," she cried. "They're not human. But the thumps...the thumps come from their heads. We don't hear them with our ears, Tom. I never noticed before, but we hear them in our heads. Do you understand? They didn't bring food. They said that they'll keep bringing food from now on, but not today. They tried to tell me something else, but...but...they had to stop thumping to talk to me. And once the thumping was gone...I didn't hear. I didn't want to. I begged them to stop, to bring it back. They stopped talking. They left."

This is necessary.

I held Melissa until she stopped crying and fell asleep. I thought about the changes we had now. I was trying to comfort her, but all I could think about was the...

The flashes had stopped. I hadn't realized until that moment because I was so used to the flashes accompanying the thumps that I had given myself flashes. But they weren't coming anymore, not really. Something had changed since meal time, and it made me almost uncomfortable. I could understand Melissa panicking when the thumping stopped now, though I didn't think I would've freaked out that badly.

Melissa was still crying. "I'm sorry, Tom," she mumbled, pushing her face into my chest. I could feel her tears seeping through my shirt. "I should've been able to talk to them. But the's so strange when they're gone. I'm used to them now."

I understood. I understood perfectly. We spent the rest of that day solemnly, talking not about what we would do when we got out, but how we possibly COULD get out. Things weren't normal. The thought that we might get out was beyond us now. We accepted that. We could live like this, at least for a while. Then one day, maybe in a month or a year, we might use our forks and dig into our wrists.

Do they have thumps in heaven or hell or whatever lies beyond?

We got food the next day. The thumps continued and the flashes remained silent. The food was better and life was good again. Melissa, though...she was shaken. Maybe it was seeing our captors that had her so on edge. Maybe they put something in her head.

The flashes, I thought. Is it possible they left my head and went to hers? Crazy, but crazier things had happened here.

Every day, Melissa got more nervous, more agitated. I couldn't understand. I tried to talk to her about it, but she wouldn't answer my questions. She just looked at me and shook her head.

"Nothing's wrong," she would say. "I'm just tired."

This is denial.

It happened on day twenty. We fell asleep. We woke up and ate our food. We went about things as usual. I didn't know. If I had, I would've done something. Suffering alone is 1000 times worse than suffering with a friend. I was finishing my dessert and Melissa did it quick as lightning. She stabbed herself, hard, in one wrist. Then the other. Then she shoved it in her mouth. She jammed itin her throat, pulling and pushing and grinding it in there. Trying desperately to kill herself, to end it.

One wrist was bright red, but it hadn't drawn blood. The other she'd stabbed harder, much harder, and it had holes in it. The holes were pretty deep, leaking - pouring - blood. Blood was trickling out of her mouth and when I throw my food down and reached out to stop her she kicked me in the chest. I fell agains tthe wall and she just kept stabbing, cutting, choking with the fork. I didn't even realize I was screaming; the thumps had joined together by this point, making constant noise, and it was hard to hear over.

Eventually she slowed and tried to force the fork down her throat. She gagged and choked and retched but it didn't come out. I got to her and pushed her arms away and reached in, but it was far down at this point. Too far. My only companion, dying.

She died quickly. Between the blood and the choking, I don't know what killed her. I didn't care. I cried the rest of that day. I felt like doing the same thing. I thought maybe I would, the next day. Maybe I would join her agan. At least I wouldn't be alone.

The next day, however, didn't work out like that. I waited and waited. Eventually, the blackout came. I was eager to kill myself after a delightful meal. I just hoped I didn't mess it up. I'd hate to be half dead on the floor, pissing and shitting myself, alone, for who knows how long. Fortunately, I didn't have the opportunity to mess it up.

I woke up outside. It was dark. This wasn't right.

"No," I whispered.

No one was in sight, but I could see the lights of a town in the distance. I was out. I'd made it out of my concrete prison.


This is panic. This is change. I'm not ready for htis.

The thumps were gone. But things had changed. Adaptation. Conditioning. The thumps were gone. The flashes were back.


I wasn't used to the silence. It was driving me mad. The flashes didn't help. I knew what would make the flashes go away, though. The thumps. They would keep the flashes at bay, make me comfortable again. That was all I needed.

And they'd been teaching me how to make the thumps. They'd been teaching me since day one. I just had to...

I grimaced, not wanting to think about it. But I needed the thumps. What did I have to lose, anyway? My only companion was gone. I stood...and headed for the town in the distance.

(Four words: I don't get it.)

Tuesday, March 29, 2011


Remember that game on the Playstation, Medieval?

Since childhood, I'd always loved that game. Recently, I decided to replay it using ePSXe (with my own disc, PAL, non-platinum). If anyone is a big fan of Medieval, they will know there is an FMV in the game for the 'Inside the Asylum' level, an FMV that was never used.

The video can be viewed using a Gameshark, however, and is easily accessible today through Youtube. The FMV shows Daniel Fortesque pulling a worm from his eyehole as a lamp post ignites.

The strange thing about this video is that there is no visible reason for disabling the FMV, yet leaving it on the disc. The moment I found the hidden FMV on my GoldFinger (Gameshark ripoff), I recognized the clip - from where, I wasn't sure. I was, however, sure that the FMV was never shown during the game, due to the fact that I had completed it for the third time just before my GoldFinger arrived.

Years passed before I ever made the realization of where I had seen the clip before. When the good Playstation emulators burst into the scene, I had decided to play through my old discs on my PC and for the sake of nostalgia, decided to browse through my old demo discs. One of them, to my surprise, had a demo movie for Medieval - a movie, which at this point, I had no recollection of.

I played the movie and a wave of realization washed over me. The video I refer to is also easily accessible through Youtube. The video begins with FMV shots that have been cut together; it switches between this and actual game footage for about three minutes.

A minute-and-a-half through, I saw the all too familiar footage that I had subconsciously kept with me for years gone by. Daniel pulls the worm from his eye socket, the lamp post ignites. I had finally solved the mystery of where I had seen it before. Less than 30 seconds passed before things got weird again.

Two minutes into the video, there is a clip of game footage that shows Daniel running away from a dragon (the same dragon found in the FMV before the Pirate Ship level). This level, like the hidden FMV, does not exist in the game. I was puzzled. Two of the things shown on the official demo were removed form the game for, as far as I knew, no reason.

Now, go back to when I said I was going to play the game in ePSXe.

Two days ago, I made it to the Asylum level (which happens to be one of my favorite levels, as onslaught after onslaught of zombies rush for you). Typically, there was no FMV. The first room is tedious, yet easy. So are the second and third. Usually. This playthrough, however, I never made it to the third room.

The second room consists of a square dungeon, similar to the first floor, with gargoyles and cannons on the walls. There are gates on three of the walls, which open and release hordes of zombies periodically.

The zombies come at me and the cannons fire cannonballs into the arena. Despite this, the second room is relatively simple. However, I finish off all the zombies, yet the door won't open. Eventually, I notice a zombie seemingly stuck in the graphics, inside one of the gates. Once I killed the glitch zombie, the door open as expected. As I ran for the door, however, I was blocked by an invisible wall. I soon realized that I was stuck in the graphics.

Mad, I mashed the buttons, desperate to find a way out after not having saved for what had been nearly an hour of gameplay. After charging my sword and swinging it at the invisible wall, the clink of the sword hitting the wall sent the game into a glitch that made the screen fully black, the clink stuck on repeat like a broken record.

After about fifteen seconds of this, the sound stopped and the blackness was replaced with Daniel in a forest. it was a level that I didn't recognize. I walked upward for a moment and discovered that I actually did recognize the level. Danial turns around the dragon is seen running behind him.

After an in-game movie, the game gave me control back and I ran from the dragon, both shocked at the fact I was playing the dragon level from the trailer and the fact that I didn't want the dragon to get me, in case I couldn't get back to the level again after dying.

After a minute of running through repetitive forest graphics, the dragon simply disappeared. At the end of the level, the walls were untextured and plain white. I continued traveling up and what I saw began to make my heart race. On the walls, in red writing (as if it were written in blood), was "Daniel will die," repeated over and over.

Underneath it on every repeat, for some reason, was an image seen during medieval's end credits of an apple with a 'magic' hat. I believe the story behind the picture is that the developers had an apple that they made a hat for, which rotted away after the hat was removed. This is explained alongside the image during the credits.

I ran upward for a good five minutes without a single aspect of the level changing. The game suddenly froze and I was forced to reset the console. In all my following attempts, I have not been able to recreate the glitch that sent me to the dragon level.

I am beginning to feel as though I don't want to experience the glitch again; the whole event has sent me into a paranoid state, especially due to the fact that most of my friends don't believe a word I say about it.

My parents have booked me in to see a shrink due to this, which I am not looking forward to, as I know the events I experienced were real beyond a shadow of a doubt. I don't have an inch of crazy in me and have been a rational person all my life. I don't drink or do drugs and am not on any medication; still, people refuse to believe my story.

Thinking about that stupid hidden FMV that got me into this mess now makes me queasy, bringing back memories of the level. People normally ask me "How could a video game possibly know that?" They don't understand. Alas, I am left with the most unfortunate coincidence to occur in my life, a curse on my sanity which I predict will remain with me indefinitely.

My name is Daniel and this game will haunt me for the rest of my life.

Minecraft Pixels

You know how Minecraft has a weird way of counting pixels?

Well, rumor has it Notch had a block added one Friday but removed it almost immediately...well, not NECESSARILY removed. He just mad eit inaccessible in the normal game. However, without this block in the game's code, getting to the "Nether" was impossible.

Now, the reason it was "removed" is because when players found out how to access it and place it, something weird happened.

It spawned a certain mob: a child.

Said child would follow the player around until they died. HOWEVER, if the CHILD were to die, they wouldn't necessarily disappear. The boy would remain there, screaming bloody murder. It screamed the most realistic of screams; many players vomited from the mere sound. This would continue no matter what part of the map the player went.

The body would remain there, slowly decaying after each minute until an hour passed and it became an unrecognizable mesh of flesh and blood...but the screaming still wouldn't stop.

The screaming could only be stopped if the player surrounded the body in a ring of Obsidion and set fire to the body. Upon doing so, the child would immediately jump and scream even louder. It would float up into the air, its eyes and mouth spouting flame.

It was then the body would slump to the ground, but the head would remain, still having the neural connections attached but floating there, still spouting flame. It would then grow until it was even more unrecognizeable from its former, decomposed self. It would grow paler and the eyes and mouth would close, but it would still scream.

Once the transformation is complete, you have a Ghast. The true origin of Ghasts is dead, torture children souls brought back through Satanic rituals. Notch removed this not because it revealed the truth, but because of what it did to players.

Every scream you hear in the Nether is a tortured child. Every time you killed a Ghast you hammered in even more pain into that poor child's miserable "life."

Ghasts only "attack" you because every time they open their mouths to scream to express their anguish to someone who may be able to help, fire shoots out.

(This story is credited to a person called Doctor Steel.)

Companion Cube

It's common knowledge that they put the Companion Cube in Portal in order to make people carry the cube through that whole stage instead of leaving it behind. What most people don't know is that isn't the only thing the developers added due to beta-tester behavior.

I'm speaking, of course, of the so-called "rattman dens:" certain, out of the way areas in the game where it looks to the player as if a previous runner through GLaDOS' maze healed up and began living again. The dens mainly consisted of photographs and insane message, scribbled over and over. These were added late in development.

The areas themselves were initially nothing more than small, barely bits of textured space that players managed to get themselves into with a little fiddling. Once these small, unremarkable spaces of map were reached, the beta testers who got there started acting odd.

The first man they found was sitting on the floor, curled up in the fetal position over his controller, rocking back and forth and sobbing quietly to himself. When they asked him what was wrong, he started shouting nonsense and tried to attack the guard who escorted him out of the building.

The next guy, well, actually a woman, went a bit further. Security rushed into the room when they heard screaming. The woman had clawed deep ashes into her own arms and was bleeding on the floor, twitching violently. They rushed her to the hospital, where she recovered fully without memory of the incident.

The third guy just stopped. He stopped playing, stopped moving, even stopped speaking. He had gone completely catatonic. His family apparently trid to sue for damages, but they didn't have a strong enough case. The developers, by this time, were obviously very concerned, but what could they do? Video games don't drive people crazy.

It took a murder for them to change the areas.

Although the last beta tester seemed fine, the developers only found out what had happened when they got a call from the police. The last tester had forced his youngest daughter into an oven and burned her to death; he had written the word 'cake' all over her body in permanent marker, also.

It IS noteworthy, though, that the Companion Cube as we know it was added later, after the beta test. All participants have shown the same odd behavior; at first catatonic and flegmatic, they became more and more violent with time.

A later symptom developed, too: an extreme sense of pyromania. Whether oven, campfire, or just a match, it always resulted in getting too close to the fire and being burned. In the end, Valve figured out a way to counter this behavior.

While originally, in the beta test, you simply left the cube in an air vent and moved on to the next level, now you have to burn the cube. You have to burn your best friend. Although they sealed off the air vent, it's still there in the level. It's just hiding under a wall of pixels.

Guess what happens if you find the air vent and don't burn the Companion Cube?

Where do you think you are?

In every Pokemon game, there are dark caves that require the move "Flash" for you to be able to see inside them. However, have you ever tried getting through them without it?

I discovered this trick on Pokemon Gold and have since tried it on every Pokemon game I own. It works on them all, even Gen 1 games.

You must be in a dark cave or anywhere you should use Flash. Walk around, fight Pokemon in the dark, bump into trainers, and keep wandering in the dark. Eventually, you will find a ladder that isn't on the map. Go down it.

The screen will go black as you hear the 'going down stairs' nnoise, but it will play four times, as if you've just gone down four floors.

A text box will appear on the black screen, simply saying "Where do you think you are?" The music will be distorted for a few seconds as the screen glitches up. Sometimes you might hear a 'thud' noise as if you walked into a wall or a distorted Pokemon cry that sounds like a scream.

After that, you'll be able to see. In the older generations of Pokemon, it simply looked like you'd found a new area that wasn't on the map. In newer generations, you can tell something is wrong because everything is in black and white.

You'll be in a big, empty room. The four walls all have something written on them - usually your player name and the time or the names of your Pokemon. You can walk through one of the walls, but which one depends on the game. If I remember correctly, it's the north wall in Diamond and the left one in on, so forth.

When you go through the wall, you'll be back in the overworld outside the cave. Everything will still be in black and white. The music will be slower and lower; occasionally, it jumps, too. Trying to talk to people is useless; you can't interact with them any more.

In Pokemon Yellow, the sprite of the Pikachu that follows you around becomes that of a Ghost from Lavender Town. If you check your Pokemon, they will all be there - same stats, nicknames, and moves - but all their sprites have changed into that of the Ghost.

If you go into the grass and find Wild Pokemon, they will amost immediately flee from you.

Go back into the dark cave you came out of. This is now the only place you can fight Wild Pokemon and other trainers, so long as you don't use Flash.

I discovered recently that if you play the game like this for long enough, you will eventually see a trainer that uses the main character's sprite in that one dark cave. They stand out, for they are in color when everything else is not.

However, if you try to talk to them, a text box pops up saying "Where do you think you are?" The screen goes black and you hear the distorted music, thud, or scream from before...

Wednesday, March 16, 2011


The scream of the trooper was horrifying. He was twisting on the floor and screaming for the sweet release of death. There was nothing I could do. The cause of this suffering was as clear as his scream: he was corrupted.

And, unfortunately, so was I.

But there was a difference: I was corrupted, but protected. But it was growing. Growing, eating me from the inside. I had to hide my face; it had changed. I couldn't recognize it anymore. This corruption, this fatal illness has been around for years. I wasn't the only one, though. It took my friends, too. But now I'm alone. Alone with this condition, this fever. It doesn't have a cure, it will kill me someday.

But before that, I must fight it. I must fight it because I'm the only one that can stop this. All my other friends...they are gone. It took them. That's an exact copy of me. It knows my moves, it knows my weaknesses, it knows me.

But now, I must face it, even if it kills me. It will kill me, anyway. It took the other bounty hunters. It will do the same with me. This feeling of dread, the feeling of impending doom. The feeling of no escape.

I must, for I am the bounty huntress, Samus Aran.

(This story is credited to a person called DarkMartio)

Rest Awhile

Hello. If you're reading this, someone MUST know I'm gone. I can’t say where. It would put whoever’s reading this in danger.

It started on a pretty average day. You see, I like researching things like magic and I don’t really fit in at school. One day, I found a spell; it said “spell to turn into a cat.” I really wanted to try it. Cats are my favorite animals and I wouldn’t have to be around stupid people and be a misfit anymore!

I gathered all the materials I needed, even the obscure items like cat tails cooked and broiled for ten days. It was more fun gathering these things, knowing I was getting closer and closer to my dreams! Finally, I got all of the ingredients. I did the spell and nothing happened, at first. Disappointed, I went to bed.

When I awoke, I felt different. I was really sore. And warm. I tried to swing my feet over the bed but found I wasn’t anywhere near the edge. I was flat in the middle curled up. I then stood on my new found paws and looked around. I was very small and I felt this new energy swell through me. I loved it! I laughed but it came out as a mew, soft and cute. I spent hours just playing on my bed, chasing my tail, cleaning my white fur. Then I decided to explore as a little kitten. I could smell my dogs downstairs and fear swelled through me. Oh god they could smell me.

I quickly ran down the stairs, padding on my soft feet. I couldn’t outrun the dogs; they beat me and tore at my fresh, soft skin. Gruesome, huh?

I need someone to carry on my legend, though. You see, I had a prophecy to carry out when I turned into a cat. HE told me. Who is he? Well, I guess you’ll figure that out yourself. Isn’t it getting warmer in here? And is that your body tingling? You don’t look so good, my dear. Maybe a nap would help. In the middle of the bed, curled up.. I hexed this paper so whoever finds it here would become like me. A cat. It’s too late to stop. I can smell your fear now. Hot like sweat and blood. You’re getting sleepy now. And one question looms on your mind. Who is he you may ask?

Well, maybe you should rest awhile and find out.

Lightless City

Do you have someone you hate? Someone you would do anything to hurt, pay any price for vengeance? If so, you may want to consider visiting Lightless City.

To get there, go to any decent sized city and find a deserted alleyway at night. Go into it, and close your eyes as tightly as you can. Whisper “Lightless City”, and concentrate on the darkness. You’ve probably noticed that there are faint colors and abstract shapes you can make out if you try to focus your eyes when they’re closed, watch those images go by. After a few minutes, the images should start to get clearer and brighter.

When this happens, they’ll start taking on detailed forms, images of violent murders, deformed animals, and similar things. No matter what you see, keep your eyes closed. You’ll start to lose track of time, but eventually the images will stop, and you’ll see pure darkness, nothing but deep black, no colors or shapes. When you’re certain that you see pure darkness, open your eyes.

You will now be in a very dark city, there won’t be a single light or star in the sky. You should be able to see a faint dark blue outline of the tall buildings surrounding you. Make your way out of the alley, and walk as quietly as you can down the sidewalk, in any direction. If you here any movement, RUN, as quickly as you can, away from the noise. There are animals in Lightless City, it’s too dark to make out the details, but they’re the size of large, wild felines and will kill any human they catch. Keep moving until you reach an area with smaller buildings, the edge of the city.

A child will approach you, his face dully glowing, letting you see that he is eyeless. He will ask “Will you share your light with me?” Say yes, the child will reach for your face and rip out your right eye. It will be painful, but there shouldn’t be any bleeding or open wound. The child will thank you and leave. Keep walking, and a tall man will appear before you.

“Whose light do you wish to have taken away?”

Speak the name of the person you hate, and as soon as you say their name, they will completely and irreversibly blind.

“Is your hatred satisfied?” the man will ask. If it is, say yes, and you will awaken in the alley. If not, say no, and the man will disappear. Keep walking. You will come across another eyeless child,.

“Will you share your light with me?”

Say yes, and your left eye will be torn out, leaving you blind. Keep walking, and the tall man will appear again, although you of course will have to rely on his voice.

“Whose life do you wish for the darkness to claim?”

Say the name of the one you hate, and they will die. You will not be asked if your hatred is satisfied this time, and you will not be able to return to the alley. I told you to make sure you really hated someone before doing this, you will spend the rest of your life wandering around Lightless City, blind, with only your hatred to keep you warm. For some people, that’s enough.

(This story is credited to a person called KI Simpson)

Tuesday, March 1, 2011

h b i s r ea l

Here it is, the long awai-;;;..///;'BREAK;///////////;.


Okay, folks, this is gonna sound very weird, but it’s just what happened to me. I just don’t really know what I should do, probably no one can tell me what to do - this is just really wearing me down, and I don’t think I can carry on much longer.

My name is Richard Talsey, and I live in a small suburb (sorry, folks, not gonna tell you where). I’m 72 years old, I lived a happy life and I still try to make the most of it. My wife died half a year ago, my son made a career selling costumes and I have three wonderful grandchildren. I kind of thought that I mastered most of what life would put up against me - seems I was wrong.

It all started about a week ago, on the weekend. After my wife had died - god bless her - I found that the house we had bought was just too large for me to life in alone, so I decided to move to a smaller apartment that would suit my needs better (less cleaning, less fear of burglars...) I managed to contact a guy downtown who dealt with real estate, and I was able to get myself a good deal. I was supposed to move there next week, but right now, I’m not sure... I just don’t know anymore what is about to happen.

As I said - I was about to get ready to move, so I finally got an excuse to tidy up the attic. I’m not very attached to physical keepsakes anymore, so the mess up there was more because of my laziness than anything else. I had gotten rid of most of my wife’s belongings in the months after her death - some went to my son, my grandchildren wanted some souvenirs, the rest was mostly just sold or thrown away - so it wasn’t THAT much to sort out, mainly old furniture, some old finger paintings from when my son was three years old, some stuff from my grandchildren, old newspapers, stuff like that. I figured it couldn’t hurt try to make some cash out of that (and I had nothing better to do that weekend), so I registered for the garage sale that’s being held in my neighbourhood once every two months and sorted out the stuff I wanted to sell after calling my family to ask if they wanted to keep anything. They said they were fine, so on sunday morning I just threw most of the things and set up the old garden table in front of my house.

I think I shouldn’t have. I wish I hadn’t.

I still remember it vividly - it was a bright, sunny day and I thought to myself “What a wonderful day this is gonna be.” I lazily sat in a garden chair, enjoying the sun, having some hot dogs, just living the life. I noticed I still hadn’t come around to removing the “For Sale!” sign in my front lawn, and that I probably should get rid of it before people called me about it.
My house is situated a little off the main road, so not too many people came around to buy stuff, but I still was able to get rid of most of the furniture, some old paintings and most of the toys of my grandchildren. Granted, it wasn’t as busy as on the main roads, but I was able to sit in the sun - so what’s not to like?
I should have known this was too good to be true.

It was about 4 p.m. when the other shoe dropped. I was just watching a blackbird trying to wrestle a worm out of the ground, when suddenly a chill run down my back. I’m not a superstitious person, but I still looked over my shoulder, it just felt like a bad omen or something. And that’s when I saw him.

A guy, about 18 years old, harmless appearance, average looking slowly drove up to my house. There was nothing special about him, but I can’t put my finger on it - there was just something about him that put me on edge, something in his eye - it seemed as he was being followed, he seemed hunted, some nervous twinkle in his eye. Cautiously, he watched his surroundings as he stopped the car and got out and for a second I thought he was just making sure the coast was clear to mug me - but the street wasn’t THAT empty and I know my neighbours would have come to help right away, so I forced myself to smile and greeted him.

He wouldn’t answer, just stare at me with eyes wide open, with a slight air of disgust on his face. I noticed he stared at my blind eye (I suffered from a cataract a few years ago) with open revulsion and remember thinking to myself how rude this was. After a few awkward seconds of silence I swallowed my hurt feelings, cleared my throat, forced myself to smile again and asked him how I could help him.

As I started to speak, he flinched, like I just awoke him from some weird kind of trance or something, hastily looked over his shoulder and mumbled something about “old video games”. I remembered my grandson used to own a Nintendo, so I got up, told him I’d be right back and hurried to the garage, as I didn’t really trust him being alone with my stand. I picked up the box of games (the console had already been sold) and went back outside, half expecting to see him making off with some of my stuff - but instead he was just gazing at the finger paintings of my son with a moony glaze over his eyes. I started to feel really uncomfortable with this guy pawing paintings of my son, and I started to suspect he was on some kind of drug.

He didn’t notice me until I made it all the way back to the table and cleared my throat. I hadn’t thought he had spaced out that much, but the kid just let out a shriek, jumped and snarled at me like an animal. I instinctively shifted backwards a bit as the snarl slowly mutated into a giggle, which then boiled up into a loud, maniacal laughter while he eyed me with some kind of creepy curiosity that made me feel VERY uncomfortable. After he ran out of air, he kept standing there, slightly bent over as if he was just getting ready to lunge at me, heavily breathing. The twinkle of madness in his eyes had intensified, I think, maybe it was just my nerves - but this kid just had something on him, I don’t know. My instincts told me to just run, to get into the house and lock the doors and just not care what happened to my stuff.
I wish I had done that. I wanted to do it - but I just couldn’t move, paralyzed of fear, while he was standing there, just staring at me, without ever blinking, a crooked smile frozen on his face.
Again, a few awkward seconds passed until I nervously reached into the box, pulled out the next best thing that i found and handed it over to him.
I prayed he didn’t notice my hand was shaking in terror.

With a hasty movement, he snatched the game out of my hand and inspected it, turning it again and again in his hands as if he found something special. About half a minute, maybe a minute passed while he was eagerly inspecting every edge of the game I just handed him - I still don’t know which one it was - until he suddenly froze, his head flipped around to face me and his stare pierced into my heart.
“How much?”, he snarled again, and something about his voice made my instincts boil up again and it took all my willpower to not just run away until I could not run anymore. At this moment, I would have done everything to get as far away as I could, and I had the terrible feeling that I’d better make him happy with the price.

I collected what was left of my courage, licked over my dry lips, smiled nervously and told him he could have it if he wanted to, that it was just something my grandson left here and I didn’t need it anymore - I don’t recall anymore what exactly I said, I just wanted to finally get him to drive away, far away from me. For a short, endless moment he just stood there, staring at me, then his smile got a little broader and he nodded. “Gooood”, he said, at least I think what it was, it was more like a growling noise with the “oo” pulled into length, it lasted about ten seconds, if not longer.

“Thank you.” He nodded again and turned towards his car, and I felt like a giant weight just got lifted off my shoulders. I forced myself to smile and said something about the lines of “Well, have fun with the game... g’bye, man...”, but he completely ignored me, got into his car and made off. I watched his car go down the whole street, where it turned and vanished around a corner, but something stayed behing - the sun just didn’t feel as warm anymore, the birds had stopped singing and I felt a weird feeling of nausea building inside of me.

This evening, I burned all of the finger paintings of my son. They felt tainted, smirched in some twisted kind of way and I couldn’t even stand seeing them anymore let alone touch them. As they burned into ash, I felt like a part of my past burst into flames, but it felt relieving - as if I had traded a part of my memories for being rescued from a greater evil.

If only I knew this was only the beginning.

That night, I had a dream. I dreamt of the creepy guy standing in front of my bed, staring at me with his lunatic gaze, just staring at me, letting out a light snarl every time he would breathe out, while I just couldn’t move a muscle. And while I was just lying there, his face would come closer, become bigger, until his madness-ridden eyes filled up my entire field of vision, and then his snarling started forming words: “I suffer because of you.”

I awoke shaking in terror and started searching furiously for the light switch of my nightstand, knocking over my bottle of water and the telephone in the progress. When I finally flicked the switch, it took me several minutes to realize it had just been a dream. It felt all too real, and I got no sleep for the rest of the night.

The next day, I called my son, Thomas, about the incident. He laughed at first, but he soon realized I was dead serious and agreed to come over to see me, but I couldn’t handle sitting in the house, so we drove downtown and took a stroll in the park while I told him in detail what happened. After I finished, he remained silent for a while we strolled through the tree-edged pathways. “Well, dad”, he finally said, “I think... I don’t know what to think. But he’s gone now, isn’t he?”
I think the situation really got to him. I have never been a person to be scared easily, I never was superstitious and I think this might have been the first time he ever saw me this shaken up. I pretended to feel better and told him that it helped me getting the story off my chest, but I didn’t. There was something that kept sticking to me since I met that guy, some sinister, unquiet essence that I couldn’t get off no matter how hard I tried. I caught myself watching over my shoulder frequently, always fearing to see him sneaking up to me, snarling in his inhuman voice, staring at me with his unsettling eyes...

That night, I tried not to fall asleep. I put myself in front of the television, made myself a thermos can full of coffee and one with black tea and turned on the lights in the whole house. Nevertheless, at about 3 a.m., I started to notice how I kept dozing off, and I finally decided to give in to the temptation and just sleep on the couch, with the lights on.

I woke up half an hour later, screaming. I didn’t remember much of the dream I had, but the animal guy was in there, banging onto my door, and when I didn’t open, he crushed it open, but he had fangs and claws, and when he snarled at me, his eyes would glow in a faint yellow tone... I remembered running through a dark forest, then I felt something hitting my back, me falling down, and then - nothing.

Shivering, I checked the windows. Nothing seemed wrong - it was dark and silent outside, the street lights and the moon lit up the street just enough to see that noone was out there, when suddenly a noise came from up above. Immediately I froze, listening into the silence. Then I heard it again - a faint thudding noise, as if something - or someone - was on the roof.

I was too scared to go check it out, but the sound resumed for about half an hour before it stopped. I managed to get another two or three hours of sleep before the sun set, and I couldn’t get myself to sleep after that, so I made new coffee and showered for half an hour - but even that was not enough to get rid of the haunting feeling that just stuck to me like a barnacle. Afterwards, I forced myself to eat some breakfast and decided to take a walk again to take my mind of stuff, telling myself that I’d be moving soon and will never have to see him again.

It worked. For the first time since I met the kid, I was able to relax a bit, just doing some of the stuff old men my age are compelled to do - feeding some ducks, strolling around aimlessly, having a hot chocolate in a street cafe. The suspense of the encounter started to finally fall off my chest and I was able to unwind, and I felt genuinely relieved when I returned to my house at about 5 p.m. I just drove up the drive as my neighbour, Tyler, waved to me and walked over to my car. I noticed he looked a little nervous.

“Hey, Tyler”, I greeted him. “How are ya?” - “Hi, Richard...” I was not mistaken - Tyler WAS nervous. “Umm, have you been expecting visitors...? Like, a young guy?”

My blood froze.

“There was a young guy, about 18 I guess, ringing your bell earlier. He was also there yesterday, furiously ringing when you were at the park, and today he rang my bell and started asking questions about your family... Do you know who I mean?” I could only force myself to nod faintly, and all the blood must have rushed from my head. “Richard... are you okay?”, Tyler asked me. I only faintly remember him helping me out of the car and into the house. I could have been mistaken, but I could have sworn there was a faint stench in the air as I walked up to my door. A stench of wild animal. A predator’s smell.

My memories do not clear up until about an hour later. Tyler was still with me, I remember him giving me a glass of water. Finally, he was able to tell me what happened. The predator kid came back. He furiously rang the bell, then he knocked on my door. Just like in my dream. He tried to break the door open, but left, went around the house and looked for an entry point. I can only thank god I remembered to lock all the windows, the thought of coming back and him being in my house still haunts me at night.

Finally, the predator kid started to harass my neighbours. He went up to Tyler who had just been mowing his lawn, and Tyler described him just as I remembered the guy - just even more down-and-out. He seems to have had giant bags under his eyes, unkempt hair and a wild, hunting look in his eyes, and he wanted to know things about my family. More specifically, about my grandson.

Tyler was quick on the uptake, always had been, and so he apparently made up some cover-up story about me having no family and my grandson being related to someone else and having died years ago. At this point, I was too terrified to even think and I interrupted Tyler, hurried over to the phone and called my grandson. He was the one who once owned the game I gave to the predator kid. The thought of my grandson being tracked down by him gave me the chills.

He didn’t pick up.

That night, I had another nightmare. I was standing in front of some kind of stone altar, in the middle of the forest. I could see the full moon shining through the leaves, but it was blood red and seemed unnatural and... evil. I can’t put my finger on it, but there was something in the air, something weird, something wrong, and it terrified me to the core.

As I looked around, suddenly I heard a noise behind me. I jerked around, just to see a shadow vanish in the corner of my eye. Then it was silent again. Suddenly something hit me in the back of my head, and I spun around again - and there he was, the predator kid, sitting atop the stone altar. He was now entirely inhuman, but I still know it was him, from the eerie, mad glow in his eyes, even though his skin had been replaced by ruffled, oily fur and his face was a parody of a human’s features wildly mixed with an animal’s snout and large, pointy, yellow teeth dripping with splittle. As he watched me, his facial feature’s slowly turned, mutated, changed, until there was my grandson staring back at me with an expression of fear and agony, propped up on the monstrous body of the unnatural beast. I awoke, shaking in terror again.

After a few seconds of listening anxiously into the darkness, I heard the thumping again. It was here. It was on my roof. For a second, I hesitated, but this had all gotten far too real for me - my grandson was in danger, and for him I would confront the abomination. I would kill it.

Without turning the light, I got dressed as fast and as silent as I could and grabbed the revolver I always keep in my nightstand. I’m not the trigger happy type, and I never had to use it before - hell, I haven’t even fired it for years, and I could only hope that it wouldn’t quit working just now. Cautiously, I climbed the stairs to the second floor, and up the stairs to the attic. My heart pounding, I put my ear against the door. I heard a faint scratching. Someone, no - something was in there. And I knew what it was.

I took a deep breath. I just wished I had thought of taking a flashlight with me, but as it was I had to take it in the dark, but fortunately the full moon was still out and my eyes had already adapted to the darkness - and my attic had large windows. One second passed, two, another deep breath, a short moment of hesitation - then I burst the door open and pulled the gun.

A shadow lunged at me, something heavy threw me backwards and I felt sharp teeth dig into my forearm. Panicking, I fired a shot into the air, and suddenly, the weight was gone and a large, furry shadow scurried through the attic, always cautious to remain in the dark and then jumping out of a window.

It was broken. Someone smashed it open from the outside and I didn’t notice.

The creature had been inside my house all along.

That was yesterday. I moved out of my house with my gun and told my son and grandchildren to go somewhere safe. To not go outside at night. To not speak to strangers. I spend the day following that incident doing research, Tyler, clever, smart Tyler jotted down the license place of that guy’s car. I was able to track him down. I know where the creature lives. And I will confront it.

I spent last night in a hotel room outside of town. I had nightmares again, the creature tormented my grandson again. I will not tolerate this anymore. I will end this, once and for all, for my family, for their future. As I'm writing this, I have my loaded gun next to me and nothing to lose. I do not know how I drew its attention, why it chose me or how my grandson plays into it. Maybe it picked up his smell from the game. Maybe it wants to taunt me by killing my family before it finishes me. Maybe I'm just slowly turning mad. I surely hope so, because if I am, there is no way my family could be hurt.

I will make sure my family doesn’t get hurt. I will email this summary of my last day’s to my grandson - he’s old enough and he has a right to know what might await him if I fail. I will drive to his apartment this afternoon, leave here at about four. That means I will confront the vile beast about twenty minutes later. If my grandson does not hear anything from me after seven p.m., he will know that I failed and spread this file to whomever it may concern.

Thomas, I have always loved you and you are my pride. I could not have wished for a better son. And my grandchildren - I love all of you dearly. I wish I could have been a better gramps for you, but I fear we won’t have too much time together left. I love all of you. Please hold my memory dear.

I love you dearly.



My grandfather emailed this file to me two days ago. We haven’t heard of him ever since. In his house, we found one of the roof windows smashed, and on the inside, we found traces of blood and animal feces. The police said it was a marten. I don’t know about that.

I asked around, and the college said they knew nothing about an older man on the campus. I don’t know what happened. I just hope he’s okay. So far, I haven’t had any strange encounters, but I had a dream last night. I was on a clearing in the forest, and I started to grow fur, and I howled at the moon and then... I don’t know. This is probably just all too much.

I haven’t told my siblings, Rosa and Matt, of this. Neither does dad know, besides the talk he had with gramps on the second day. I don’t want to drag them into this. I kind of have a feeling that this is something I have to deal with, but it was gramps’ last wish to publish his story, so here you go.

If you know anything about this or have any idea what could have happened, please feel free to drop me a line. I just hope I’ll be alright.


(This story is credited to a person called Astartus.)