Circle

Alright, people. I’m here because I need your help. I haven’t got a lot of time (it’ll be dark soon, you see). All I need is a name. It’s too late for me, I won’t be able to do much, except pass on the name. That’s the key, the key to staying alive, is to the name. Reminds you of Doctor Who, right?

Everytime the Doctor figures out the name of the thing, what it is, it stops in its tracks, and he says something witty or figures out how to beat it, or at least he gets to run away with his sidekick. Damn, Doctor Who. Nerdy as fuck reference at a time like this. But I’m frazzled. Sun’s going down. Then it’ll come for me.

It started last summer. I just got my Bachelor’s Degree in Philosophy (sounds like a fucking waste of money, but I already had a job lined up, so, lucky me, I guess) and my half-brother, his girlfriend and I were roadtripping all over Europe. We’re all spoiled rich white kids, except my half-brother’s girl friend, Sarah. She’s spoiled rich and Greek.

Anyway, we did the whole damn thing, starting in England and France and then all around the whole continent, and it was really cool. An amazing experience, even if it ate up a lot of money. We planned to end the trip in Greece, where Dave’s (that’s my half-brother) girlfriend’s family owned some estate on an island. She and Dave kept joking about hooking me up with one of her cousins, and I was getting pretty excited for it.

Plus, I really had gotten into my major, and Greek mythology, so I was hoping to learn all sorts of cool stuff, and maybe see some ruins.I saw them, all right, and I wish I fucking hadn’t. But I’ll get there.

So we get to the island, and we meet Sarah’s family, and her cousin’s are hot alright, fucking gorgeous, but they don’t want anything to do with me. In fact, they seem more interested in Dave, which pisses off Sarah more than anything else. So she decides to use me as an excuse to get Dave away from them, and go see some caves on the other side of the island. Which hurts my chances with these fabulous Greek ladies even more, but hell, I’m a nerd; caves are cool, and I wanted to see ‘em.So off we go.

And when we get there, it’s everything you’d expect. The beaches were all white sands, beautiful, and sunny. These caves were volcanic or something, I dunno, but the rock was all black and shiny, like, perfect photo contrast. Anyway, Sarah’s leading the way, chatting us up the whole time, clinging to Dave. I can tell they’re getting all romantic, and they never really wanted me along in the first place (I had just been an excuse to get away) so I decide to do the polite thing.

I know, I know, you never go off alone in a scary movie or that shit, but I was on a tiny, beautiful, sunny island in Greece, couldn’t have been more than a square mile, and I had a flashlight.So as David and Sarah stay in the main chamber of the cave, sucking face, I flick on my flashlight and head deeper into the caves, and I can tell it’s kinda veering off to the right, and down a little, but I’m not worried, see, that’s the big difference. In horror movies and scary stories you always get worried before the bad stuff happens, but I didn’t.

No hairs standing up, no goosebumps, just calm. And I can still breath fine, and walk fine (just crouching down a little) when suddenly the floor was gone. I fell for a few seconds into pitch blackness.

I hit the ground hard. I would find out later that I fractured my tailbone, but at the time it was just a dull hurt. I had fallen on what felt like a bunch of dry sticks, and I had dropped the flashlight. Still, I wasn’t panicking yet; the flashlight had been one of those super-sturdy mag-lights, and I was sure I could find it. That kind of confidence, my friends, is rewarded.

My fingers closed around the cool metal of the light and I’ll admit, there was a brief moment where I was afraid to turn it on. I murmured a quick little prayer to Whoever was listening, and let my thumb pause awhile before pushing down the rubber button. The flashlight flicked on right away, but I almost wished it hadn’t, because I could see the floor all around me, and what had felt like old, dry sticks. Bones.

Really old ones. I mean, like, these could’ve been Socrates’ bones, that’s how old they were, crunching away underneath me. After about a minute, I got over my panic, and started looking around a little, objectively.There were a lot of bones, enough to cover the floor of the ten foot by ten foot space. The walls were thick black, the same volcanic material of the rest of the cave, except for one point, about five feet off of the ground, were something had been painted on the wall in red.

A circle. Just a harmless, unobtrusive circle, albeit one that was painted in a dulled crimson that almost had to be human blood. I suppressed a shiver and walked over toward it, my feet crunching on them bones them bones them dry bones (ha-ha), and I get right up close, shining the light on it, and still, it looks innocent enough, just out of place. So I reached my finger up and gently tapped the red circle.

Then I felt it. All of the fear and anguish and horror that I should’ve felt when I first fell into the place. I could feel something, like blood and screams and pain washed over the walls of that tiny chamber like layers of paint, and before long I realize it’s me who’s screaming, not for help but just in this guttural, caveman fear.

Dave and Sarah found me almost right away. I don’t really remember them showing up, or pulling me out of that place, but I must’ve been screaming right up until they pulled me out, because for the rest of the trip, they kept asking me what I’d seen. I couldn’t tell them about the circle, I don’t know why.

Whenever they asked I’d just say “Bones. I saw Bones.” And for the most part, they left me alone. They had each other. The trip ended two days later, and I was incredibly relieved to get on the plane. Because since I had gotten out of that cave, I hadn’t been able to sleep. I’m not the kind of guy who can go days without sleep, hell, I don’t even like to stay up that late.

But the night after I got out of the cave, I just lay in bed, awake, unable to move, just feeling anxious all over. Every time I’d close my eyes, I’d feel the need to tear them open right away.The second night after the cave, the night before we left for home, was worse. It wasn’t just anxiety anymore. It was the feeling that something was making me feel anxious.

My eyes would scan the darkness constantly, obsessed with the feeling that there was some entity creeping along the edges of my vision, hunting me, watching me. I never saw anything, no monsters; just felt it.But the second I stepped foot on that plane, I felt safe. Secure. I slept the whole ten hours home, and felt well-rested enough to forget about the whole ordeal.

Until it caught up to me. I don’t know exactly how much time passed, not more than two weeks, and by then I honestly had forgotten about the creepiness. I had just started a management position at an office owned by a friend from college, and was adjusting (pretty well) to all the money I was going to be making.

Life was looking up, and I was happy, all was well, yadda-yadda-yadda. Then it caught up to me. The first night was the same, just anxiety, worry, the inability to sleep. I was concerned, but figured I was replaying the experience or was maladjusting to work or something. I tried to shut it rationally from my mind and get over it.

The night after that, I even got a little sleep. Of course, the third night, the anxiety was back with a vengeance, and I sat in bed all night, lights on, looking and listening for something, something that was out there, hunting. That was two weeks ago.

I know you don’t believe me. Ignoring all of the monster stuff, a person can’t go that long without sleep, but I must’ve. I can account for every single minute that’s passed these last two weeks. During the day, I’m fine. I did take naps, that’s probably what saved me. But every night, the anxiety would get stronger, and stronger, and the feeling that something was there would overwhelm me.

I knew it now, knew it was some tangible, existing monster, but I just couldn’t know what it was.If I could find out what it was, what it looked like, what it wanted, I could stop it...or fight it...or run. Who am I kidding? I know what it wants. It wants me. And even with a name, I won’t be able to fight it. But maybe, if I find out what it is, before it gets me, I’ll write its name on my walls. Or draw a circle. Time now, anyway. The sun’s set, and I can really feel it.

Tonight’s the night. It’s hungry.

(This story is credited to a person called Allen Jacoby.)