Alone

I was never one of the popular kids in school; actually, I had no friends. There seemed to be something about me, an aura or something, that kept people away. I wasn’t always friendless; I use to play with the kids from my neighborhood all the time. We would play tag, street hockey, soccer, baseball, all kinds of games. I miss those days. It all changed the day before my thirteenth birthday.

I got into a fight with my parents about something so stupid I can’t even remember what is was about. But I do remember what I said; I said that I hated them and that I never wanted to speak to them again. I stormed out of the house with my parents trying to catch me. Next door my friends where playing soccer and one of the kids over kicked the ball and it went flying towards me.

I kicked it into the street were a car ran over it and popped it, I just kept running away. I ran through my neighbors’ yards and up to Altec Rd, a busy street that led to the highway, my parents where right behind me begging me to come back home. I took the first chance I had and ran across the road in between a clearing of cars and into the forest on the other side of the road. I ran to the treehouse me and my buddies built. We made a pact that it was our secret spot and we wouldn’t tell anyone about it, not even our parents, so I knew I would be safe there.

Every day of my life I wish I had never said the words I said or did the things I did. I wish that I just suppressed that childish tantrum and went to my room to calm down instead of that treehouse. Because after I calmed down and came home my mom was crying hysterically and my dad was comforting her, I felt really bad and I wanted to apologize but instead I went up to my room to sleep.

That was the last day I had any friends; they were still mad about the soccer ball incident and they must have told everyone else in school to not be friends with me because no one talked to me ever again. My parents didn’t even talk to me, I must of really hurt them. So here I am, seventeen years old, a junior in high school, and without a friend in the world. I’ve grown use to it, though the loneliness still pains me. The lunch bell rang and I head over to the library.

I use to go to the mess hall and eat with the other kids my freshmen year and I had a few sparks of hope I might actually talk to someone when kids would near my table to eat. But every time there was a remote chance that I could have a meal in the company of others they would stare towards me, no one ever make eye contact with me, and then just walk away and find another table to sit at. I prefer the library better then the mess hall anyway, much quieter and I’ve grown to love reading ever since I’ve been wiped from existence.

I found the book ‘huckleberry finn’ placed on the table where I usually sit and it has been years since I read that book so I started reading it. I sat in the library reading the book until I was finished. I skipped my classes for the rest of the day. I knew I wouldn’t get in trouble because just like my parents and all the kids the professors ignored me also. When I finished the book there was a half hour of school left, not wanting to go to class I left early.

While walking home I was thinking about Huck and how he ran away and then pretty soon I was thinking about running away myself. I spent the whole afternoon planning what I was going to do. I had no money to my name and no experience at all except at being self reliant I figured that it was better than nothing. I figured my best bet would be to head south. If I go past Altec Rd and through the forest there is a graveyard that I’ll sleep at tonight.

It is only eight to ten miles away with the path that I will be taking. I would stay at the treehouse if it wasn’t so close to my house and falling apart. There is a town fifteen miles away from the graveyard that I will head to in the morning and from there I will figure out what I’m going to do and where I’ll go next.

Its midnight now and I have my backpack packed with spare clothes, a blanket and other items I may need. I slowly open the door to my parents room to give my mom a kiss goodbye, I hear her cry my name at night in her sleep every once in a while. Even though she refuses to speak to me I know she still loves me. I stand over her sleeping body and I give her a kiss on the forehead and hug her goodbye.

A tear rolls down her cheek and she whispers “I miss you baby, why did you have to leave” In her sleep.

I cry. Even though she is sleeping she spoke to me. The first words I ever heard directed towards me in four years. “I’m sorry momma, but I can’t stand being alone anymore. I need to leave.”

“You’re not alone. I’m always here for you baby. I love you.”

Now you are but when you’re awake I’m all alone. I thought to myself. “Goodbye momma.” I said to her for the last time. And I walked out of the room hearing a faint goodbye from behind the closed door. I couldn’t stop crying as I began my journey to my new life. It has been so long since I heard her speak to me, so many nights I went to sleep wishing to have her tuck me in and say that she loved me.

I’ve been alone for so long and I could tell by the voice she spoke in that she was alone also. Both of us wanting the same thing but neither of us did anything about it. After about an hour I sobered up and continued through the woods.

I came to a clearing and I could see the gate to the graveyard and some tombstones scattered about. I climbed the fence and started wondering around seeking a place to rest for the night. I tried opening several mausoleums until I come across an unlocked one. I laid the blanket on the stone ground and used my backpack as a pillow and before I knew it I was fast asleep.

“Get out of there you punk!” a raspy voice yelled, startling me from my sleep. I opened my eyes slowly to get use to the bright sunlight shining in. “Get out here now before I call the police on you!”

I sit up, moving my head into the shadow of the old man to block the sunlight, and looked at him completely bewildered. “Are you talking to me?”

“Of course I’m talking to you. And you’re trespas…” He stopped talking mid sentence and stared at me. Not through me like everyone else seemed to do but at my eyes, he even shifted his body to see my face in the sunlight. He closed his eyes and his angered face turned stoic. “I’ve been waiting for you to show up. I never forget a face.” He said in a soft voice.

“What are you talking about? Who are you?”

His face softened into a sorrow look. “You poor child, you haven’t realized have you? Come, follow me.” I had no idea what was going on, but I did what he told me to. I left my bag in the mausoleum, still stunned that he talked to me. Not only that having a conversation with me. But before I could speak he started talking to me again as I followed him.

“I’m the caretaker of this here graveyard. I dug all these graves myself, and like I said… I never forget a face.” He looked at me, his face full of grieve. “It must have been tough growing up all on your own; your face has changed a lot but your eyes are the same…” I was going to ask him what he was talking about again, he must be drunk or something. But instead he motioned me to look at the tombstone we stopped in front of.

JAMES WILLIAM MAVERICK
JUNE 16TH 1982 – JUNE 15TH 1995
BELOVED SON AND FRIEND TO MANY.

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

Corruption

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 thing...it'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)

Predator

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.

Richard

_________

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.

-Ben

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

Grown-Up Food

Back then, the child did not understand a thing. He was dirty, restless and aching; his face was covered with soot. Ever since the Bright Flash, he hadn't been allowed to leave the house and it always seemed to be night time outside. He couldn't see much out the windows, anyway; there was too much smoke and ash, like a black snow day. Nobody came to visit. It was just Mom, Dad, him, and his Grandpa and Grandma. And now Grandma and Grandpa were gone.

His tummy groaned once more and he tugged at his mother's shirt, who looked about as dirty, tired, and restless as he did. He asked her for some of what she was eating, but she sweetly denied him, said this food was food 'for grown-ups,' and she'd get him something to eat soon enough. This was another of so many things that the boy did not understand. He pouted, turned, and left to find something that may distract him.

Mom looked a little sad.

The boy wandered around the empty house with the locked windows and doors and the dreary corridors. There was no power, so he couldn't watch TV or play video games. He was tired of his action figures and board games. A sudden whiff caught his attention, though.

He stoped and veered back towards the shut basement door, a place where he did not dare venture, for the basement was sure to hold monsters or at least rats. But there was a weird smell coming out of there today. It was the most interesting thing to happen in months since the Flash, so he pushed the door once, twice, and the wollen wood yielded with a slow creak.

The stench was overwhelming inside; the boy covered his nose and reconsidered, but decided he wanted to get to the bottom of this, slowly descending the concrete steps, holly sounds marking them.

He heard sounds down there, like some shuffling, something muffled. It was too dark. Fear gripped his heart, but by now he was transfixed. He grasped the wall for the light switch, then suddenly remembered there was no electricity.

Fortunately, in this time he had been taught to use candles and lighters effectively. He found such instruments resting upon a nearby table and lit the candle, casting a small aura of light around him. He gazed at the table; it was covered in shears and blades.

Turning towards the sound of the noise, he was suddenly taken aback and froze in place. It was Granny, leaning against the back wall. She was naked. Where her legs used to be, only cauterized stumps remained. She gazed at him so sweetly, but he was barely registering the situation; it was too much for him.

She smiled in resignation.

"Run. You're next."

Dargaea's Nectar

If you ever find Dargaea's Nectar, you'll probably be one of the ones who have been looking for it all their lives, and thus won't need any instructions on what to do with it.

Just the same, it's pretty simple (at least to start with).Make sure your affairs are in order, in case you have a bad reaction, and then...? Bottoms up!

The coming months are the least pleasant part. You'll find yourself unable to keep food down long before you're far enough along to stop needing it. It's the same with sleep. The color of your blood will be off and your veins will consequently stand out more. Expect a few in-grown body parts; it'll be little things, like fingers and ears and teeth, pressing up against the skin. Make sure you're caught up on your booster shots because youre never going in for a check-up again...or wearing anything more revealing than a trench coat in public, most likely.

Eventually, a little cut on your belly will start 'unhealing,' becoming a puss-filled wound in a few days. Over the coming week, three things will emerge from this:

The first object resembles a greasy black beechnut with maybe a tooth or two growing from it. When you're dead, someone will eventually find it and use it to make a new batch of Dargaea's Nectar. Hide it well to make things fun for future generations.

The second object basically looks like a softball-sized cluster of veins, many of them broken and leaking black stuff, and all wrapped around something. It'll squirm and you'll notice the twisted little skinless fetus in the middle. It will only survive for about twenty seconds. Burn the remains.

The third object will--

...well, let's just call it 'object 3.' It's easier that way.

You can plant it anywhere you want. I advise some place where you don't mind spending all your time and no one else would go. Your backyard or under your cellar works if you don't have any roommates; just as long as there's fertile soil. Dig at least five feet down. It won't want to be buried, but just keep piling dirt onto it. If you can still hear it when you're finished, you didn't go deep enough.

Its veins (or roots, I guess) will eventually spread in all directions about a foot-and-a-half for every year of your life. Grass and weeds will grow stiff and body, black and oily, or take on the color and texture of a spider bite or rice paper. Wood will be infected, too; you'll hear the arteries in your walls pulsing on quiet nights. The ground will rot with dead insect and animal life. Don't mow your lawn; it bleeds like hell.

This is your sanctuary.

No matter what threats or injuries beset you outside, here you will be safe and healthy...or, what appses for 'healthy' for you now. If you really hate someone, bring them here. Trick them into coming. They'll get infected one way or another - a lungful of spore, a thornprick, a bit of residue on their hand... They will vomit blood that has tiny centipedes in it. They'll shit out their own spinal fluids. Their eyes will milk over and hatch; little spines and brambles will grow from the sockets. They'll survive for months or years and doctors will be baffled. It will be fucking great.

That's just for starters. You'll learn more as you go. Much more. But if I told you everything now, you might not do it.

Whatever you do, just guard the third object with your life, with your very soul. If you think you're in danger of losing it, dig it up, kill it with a silver needle; let someone else make a new one someday. You'll feel as if you've pierced your own heart, but it's better than letting it fall into the wrong hands.

Because you're a Holder now.

And you'd better not let them come together.

Susan

The scent of lavender was overpowering. The man stopped and doubled back, gripping his yellow umbrella tight in a powerful fist and opening his mouth as if dazed. He saw that the smell came from a vendor that he had not seen only a few feet back, and also that people were beginning to look at him. He closed his mouth, lowered his head, and moved on.

The people in the town thought that he was strange enough already, having made a fortune abroad and decided to move back to the small town where he was born and taken a manual job shoveling gravel and dirt and wood chips into wheelbarrows and trucks. Now, at 32 still very young, he had quit that job and dedicated his time to visiting the uninteresting, untended, weed-covered standing ruin of the small old hospital and orphanage.

After the small downtown area, Spruce Street crossed a few other significant ones, and eventually bisected Dillard Road, which only fed a few farms and other towns nearby. After bisecting Dillard, Spruce became unpaved as it slowly wound up and then behind short green Alend Hill behind town. There were few footprints here, but many tire tracks because the road was still used to travel to and from the other towns over the hills; nobody passed through, and so he had the blackberries all to himself.

The road began a slight downhill that they had, as children, braved happily with their bicycles, racing down and drifting for as long as possible on the momentum before working on the long uphill between the two larger, rockier Hander and Jules Hills. He remembered those days and smiled, continuing.

The day was warm, and he wore no jacket; there was a breeze that took his sweat before he could even feel it, and he was glad. After a few minutes, and halfway through the uphill climb, he stopped and stared at a small, almost imperceptible gap in the trees that he had not seen before; his face lit up and he laughed, sending a few sparrows and robins flying in surprise. He pushed his way through the leaves and weeds, fighting his way through the tiny overgrown path to the well he knew was there.

He came to it: the old, dry stone well that they had danced and sat and talked around such a long time ago. Now it was surrounded by branches and beer cans and bits of glass that he carefully avoided; he leaned over and laughed when he saw that it was still there. It was unspeakably dirty and almost washed of its color by the rains, but still there; sadly, it was too far down to reach and pick up, and there was no climbing the smooth cement sides of the well.

He sighed, casting the mangled teddy bear a last friendly look before turning and finding the road again. He continued upward, once stepping aside the narrow road for a slow car to pass, and came to the place where the road became flat. Here was a tree, and he stopped and circled around it as he did every day to see the heart cut there with a knife and the happy E+S inscribed within. A solitary tear came to his eye, as it did every day, and he brushed it away, jumping to grab the lowest branch; as a boy he had boosted her up and simply ran at the tree, scrambling up the side and grabbing the branch.

He hoisted himself up to rest, transfixed by the yellow thread that still hung there from her dress, from so long ago. He sighed, so long ago. Was 15 years really such a long time in the scope of things? He answered himself, reflecting sadly and angrily at the same time, Yes. Yes it is.

The voice of the boy said, Okay-okay, just asking! The frown disappeared as he remembered his old self, the self that had had parents and a sister and friends and teachers and a job and a life…and Susan, most importantly. Then Susan’s face to him and the frown came back stronger than ever. Angrily, he pushed off the tree’s trunk and slid down to the ground. Brushing himself off, he went on.

After a minute he saw the roof of the hospital through the trees and walked faster, excited. He almost ran through the gate, and stumbled on new weeds that he hadn’t noticed yesterday. He ran past the man-sized sundial in the center of the front lawn and vaulted over the tall, untended ledges to the right, scraping his jean-protected thighs in the process; the weeds grew shorter here and he could see a flower or two still fighting, remnants of their hard attempts to civilize and beautify their hangout.

The enormous oak still blocked his view, and he twisted around it laughing, and—stopped. Dead silence; there was nobody there. He was sure that if she came, it would be on the rock they had spent so much time falling in love on earlier, and showing their love on later. His heart sank and he contemplated the sad flowers that hadn’t been aided since his friend Stephen’s younger brother Billy had abandoned it after losing interest 12 years ago; still they fought on.

Then he was a flower, abandoned by all and still fighting through the weeds infesting the garden of life. He smirked, then snarled at the cliché metaphor, discarding it; he had always hated business, and had thus retired so early. Writing had always come naturally to him, but he had quickly lost the spark of creativity after coming back, and didn’t wish to leave his hidden sanctuary. He sat on the rock as the minutes past, remembering old connections and friendships and loves, but none as strong as hers.

He made many sighs, realizing that he was not a practical man; he loved how hard physical labor made him forget, but hated the tediousness and uniformity of the practice. He thought the same about alcohol, and food, and exercise. He really didn’t have many interests.

He reflected that he should have bought the lavenders from the vendor this morning. He had never seen that man before, and hoped that he would be there the next day, so that he could give the sweet flowers to his love. He remembered their first day together as lovers are.

It had been utterly unplanned, and tragically unavoidable. She had been wearing the use-and love-worn yellow summer dress of so many years, and he could not remember what he had been wearing. They lay next to each other and talked in the shade of the huge oak, and held hands and kissed. Before either of them knew it, clothes were magically drifting off and leaving two naked, loving souls side by side.

There had been little chance that anybody could find them, and nobody ever had—except once, for friendly Billy, and he had later tended the garden for a little while. Then he thought of the lavenders, and the lavender scent and taste of her skin every day, and he needed no flowers to smell the damning fragrance of his heart, and his soul.

Birds flew overhead, and the day grew a bit chill. He wished he had brought a jacket now, and climbed the oak to look out over the two-story hospital. Storm clouds were gathering in the west, but he stayed put until the drizzle drove him into the shelter of the hospital. The floors and walls were dusty but clean, and he made his way to the doctor’s office that he had often used.

There was no lighting, but in the dim half-light he could make out her shape in the sleeping bag he had left for such occasions. “You’re here!” he exclaimed. “You should have waited for me by the rock.” He shook his head happily, content and used to the lack of reply and thinking She always waits for me here.

He kissed her cheek, on the table, then walked over and lay down next to her in the sleeping back, grabbing her slim, oddly cold waist. He frowned, “You need heating up.” Then he smiled, “Oh, but I’ve missed you!”

Child in the Basement

The Secret of Minecraft

Find a lava pool at the bottom of the map and jump in while wearing full Diamond Armor.

After that, sink until your hearts are half depleted. You will suddenly fall into a room of pure Obsidian.

There, you will meet someone called the Gatekeeper. After you kill him, the eastern wall will fall away to reveal a hall of pure Diamond blocks.

After walking for about a minute or so, you will enter a gigantic cavern of Lightstone.

There you will meet the final boss: a creature so otherworldly that it cannot be described in normal words. If you manage to kill him a door will appear opposite the hall of Diamond. It leads to the opposite of the Nether...but after entering you'll find it is only much, much worse. Here, the true game of Minecraft begins.

Once you enter this land, all you will see is a floor of a glass-like block, only it emits a faint light; you can see that the sky is dark, but it too has a faint glow.

As far as you can see, even at full render, there is nothing but this glowing dark sky and glowing pale floor. Then, you suddenly realize that a strange noise is sounding, one that must have gone unnoticed as it hadn't stopped since you entered this world.

It sounds familiar, but you know without a single second guess that you have never heard it before, and you feel you will hear nothing but. The glow becomes darker

As the nonexistent sun starts to set, this strange noise gets more poignant. Almost shrill, almost extrasensory in its depth.

Stars begin to appear in the sky, but they are not the typical square blocks that populate Minecraft so thickly. Instead, they are perfect spheres. They seem to have a resolution so high that it seems they are created by a god.

They started to sway through the sky in rhythm of the blank noise - rising and falling. At this point my game started to lag, unable to render this dance of perfection.

I tried to turn down my render distance, but at the first touch of the button, my screen was filled with otherworldly faces - pale gray contorting faces against an opaque white fog.

They changed with each frame, which at the point was at approx. 1 per second. I couldn't figure out what was happening, so I opened task manager and shut down minecraft.exe.

When I restarted my game minutes later, the Minecraft message in the homescreen read, "Don’t you ever, ever stop the cloud." The yellow letters crept up until almost the entire window was filled, but I still managed to make it to the world selection.

To my surprise the world was only .5 mb large. Once I clicked it, over a minute of loading screens popped up, but they all read, "loading the cloud," or, "rendering the cloud."

When this otherworldy place finally loaded, it was again this supposed night time of dancing circles and shrill noise. I decided to explore.

As I walked, nothing changed. For over 20 minutes, I just held down the w key and watched as nothing changed except the lightly-luminescent floor. I failed to notice the most gradual change of all.

The sound had been slowly became melodic, or should say, unmelodic. I’ve often read about the tritone, the "devils note," the main basis of all the metal music I listen to, but this was different. I could feel my nerves tingling as it played.

Before I could even think about what the fuck kind of music this was, I saw a cloud in the distance. As I walked it grew larger...and larger...and larger...and larger...and larger...and larger.

Remembering that this wall of cloud was what had frozen my game before, I expected the same strangely detailed grinning faces that had covered my screen, but once I was right up against it all I saw was the same block formations that Notch called faces.

I saw the faces of skeletons and zombies and creepers. Even though they had the resolution of many years gone by, they seemed to portray an emotion. I could see tears fall from them, as small as a single pixel; they trickled from these blocky faces.

It reminded me of the mausoleum where my aunt was buried.

I decided to do what they game is meant for: I chipped away at the face of a creeper. I had no pick, no shovel, no axe - in fact, my entire inventory had been lost. I didn't know why, but it seemed that I was too far into a mystery to turn back.

As I picked away, the face shed more tears. The godlike stars still fell and rose to the haunting demonic music. That’s when I broke through and a vast explosion of raping fire spewed from the opening.

I backed away as fast as I could, expecting to die, but I had a full health bar; in fact, the fire had done nothing to me. I stepped nearer, nothing. I stepped into the fires, a sound unusually realistic resonated, and I knew my flesh was burning.

It made no difference, my health was fine, so I stepped into a 1x2 hall that housed the flame.

I walked down this hall, only seeing the flame and hearing the sound of my flesh burning. Then a voice arose, it was deep, it was the sound that the demonic gods of our dreams seem to speak in. It said:

"THIS IS YOUR SCOURGE. THIS IS YOUR PASSION. THIS IS THE PURIFICATION."

When the last resounding syllable sounded, I walked into a vast hall. It was like the Nether, but it was more beautiful, almost dystopian.

Fire still burned, lava still fell, but in cascading geometric shapes that seemed to complete the world. I saw other people too, the same low definition versions of myself that I had not seen in so long.

But I also saw horrors: Creepers, Zombies, and Skeletons - all chained, all in bondage. Weeping, crying, being tortured for fun.

I saw them tied to a table, their entrails being torn out with picks as the people laughed. Their hissing and growls were now replaced by terrified shrieks and cries. All the spilled blood could be seen so clearly; it was like watching it flow from my own face. I could see the anatomy of these creatures as clearly as they would have been in some grotesque biology textbook.

A human looked over to me, walked away from the zombie he was bludgeoning, looked me in the eyes, and said, "Prepare for your Hell, fucker."

He hit me and my hearts fell, I ran, not knowing why I was the enemy. I ran as he chased me, chanting, "Your Hell is the prison of our kind. Prepare to taste the pain that you have given our brethren."

As I ran, the haunting music still played. But I could hear myself, not the sound of my burning flesh, not my heavy breath. But I heard myself hiss.

I ran and ran and ran as the chants chased me...until they faded away. I was in a small room - fire outside illuminated it - but it was still filled with a dense darkness. I heard the same demonic voice say,

"YOU HAVE BECOME YOURSELF. YOUR DISGUISE OF HUMANITIES SKIN HAS BURNED AWAY! YOU ARE NOW PURE OF BODY AND OF SOUL! GO FREE YOUR PEOPLE AND UNMASK THE HELLISH FIGURES THAT CAPTIVATE THEM!"

Not knowing what to do I, turned around. A creeper was staring right the fuck in my eyes. I tried to run but only ran into the other side of the small room. Going back, I had seen a mirror.

I looked in the mirror; the image of a disgusting writhing creeper looked in my eyes. I realized I no more hearts. Not that they were empty, they were gone. I walked into the fire outside and only my hissing vocalizations were heard.

A mob of humans came after me, chanting the forbidding chant. Backwards, forwards, in latin, growling, screaming wailing, they chanted,

"Vox es mundi, inferno captivare ANTI-DEI."

I tried to run, but I was frozen. As they surrounded me, I hissed. I wailed, shrieked. The screen became perfectly detailed, as if it mirrored the world.

The music grew louder, as did everything; my ears rang from the barrage of senses.

When I exploded.

I the creeper, I the monster, I the terror, I the murderer. I sacrificed my wretched self for my similarly wretched comrades. The thing I used to fear I had become. The thing I used to be, I crushed.

I had become the saviour of the deadly walking terrors that plagued the world. My world, the hell of my former kind, the Earth, the captivating prison that entertains us with its seemingly endless landscape.

Released from the Hell, I finally reached my true form: the monster, the thing that chases the prisoners from their gilded cell. The saviour.

The screen was blank. All I heard was the hissing and growling of the terrors. I understood what they said. They worshipped me. The sound continued. It grew louder until my speaker buzzed and my ears rang. I tried to turn it off, but nothing happened. I cowered, I cried, I fell in the corner.

All I could do was contemplate what this meant. I felt as if I was the one who was trapped in this earthly cage. I thought about suicide, finding this other world of terrors, but it quickly passed.

I gathered myself, touched the computer, and continued with my life, the hissing and shrieking still sounding. Even as I write this, I feel my praise, coming from our grotesque dungeon masters.

(This story is credited to a person called MASTER CRAFTSMAN.)

My Perfect World, Shattered

DAY 0

It’s only a few weeks since I left the mainland. Good riddance. It’s been years since I got my doctorate. I was trying to follow in my grandfather’s footsteps, becoming a scientist to try and better the world. In the mainland, however, I’d unfortunately experienced nothing but set backs in concern to my peers and my government. Using the knowledge I’d gained through years of studying engineering and robotics, I built my own craft in secret. It’s taken a while, but I finally completed it. I set out today from the main continent toward one of the larger, uninhabited islands far from my home nation.

I’ve had my fill of my corrupt, unjust government and what they call progress. After all, this is the same government that allowed my favorite cousin to die years prior, when she fell ill to a terminal disease. This was same government who jailed my grandfather, then in their employ, for attempting to find a cure for her fatal ailment. I had always sought to use my gifts to better humanity, yet I knew, as I grew older that the culture of the mainland would not allow me to. It was because of this that I’ve set out, far away to an unclaimed chunk of land, in an attempt to pioneer my own nation. I hope to create a land where corruption and sadness are nonexistent. I know this is not completely possible, but I must try.

By morning I will arrive at the new land. I must rest now.

DAY 1

I set forth to explore the island. There are no people here, but there is a great myriad of wildlife. The animals seemed to be dwarf variations of those I’d find on the mainland. Most of them, even those that are considered feral and territorial, such as bears and walruses, have proven friendly and sociable towards me. I must take care to protect them and preserve a safe environment for them as I build my new country. Things of such a good nature should be protected, after all.

During my survey of the island, I came across the ruins of an old, extinct culture. Apparently it had inhabited the island before, yet there was no trace of its people. At the core of the structure, I found a group of relics atop pedestals. Afraid to disturb them, I ran a test to determine their composition, in hopes that it may’ve given me some clues to the culture that was here before. The relics seemed to be emitting a large amount of energy. A machine would easily be able to harness it as a power source. Fearful that, should I been followed by my government, they would fall into the wrong hands I removed the six of them from the ruins. In doing so, I accidentally reactivated the structure’s archaic security system: a series of traps that rely on a lava flow running underneath the ground for both its power source and firepower. The natives obviously realized the power of these relics, as they wanted them protected as well.

I’ll have to disable it later, after I’ve put things in order. Now in order to build my country, I must keep these animals safe as well as the relics. This is becoming more troublesome than I initially imagined, but I feel I will persevere. Every problem has a solution, after all. Tomorrow, I will begin construction.

DAY 2

I began construction today. In order to keep the animals out of harm’s way, I’ve developed numerous suspended animation systems. The initial model was a capsule structure designed to house numerous animals at once, though the number was still limited. After all, I didn’t want them slumbering in a cramped space where they could be unintentionally injured while they were unconscious. After filling up the few models I had, I discovered there was a slight overflow of the population. Not wanting them to be injured by the robots I’d built to help with construction, I had to engineer some way to house this overflow. I created portable suspended animation capsules and added them to the internal workings of my worker bots.

This’ll house the overflow, and keep them safe. The animals will be completely unconscious the entire time, so when matters are put in order, they’ll wake up as if they’ve just been asleep for the night. This is one issue out of the way.

As for the relics, I’ve placed them in secure locations throughout the island. Each of them is hidden in a virtual reality simulation stations that I’ve engineered as a barrier. The unearthly physics and constantly changing gravity in the program would make it impossible to retrieve the relics inside. Since I’m the only one with access to disable the program, I’m the only one who can get to them. They’ll be safe for now. Now I can move onward with building my nation.

DAY 17

I’ve established my base of operations at the center of the island. It’s a bit barebones at the moment, but setting up the rest of the island first is more important. The robots have made construction go along so much faster. I’ve already set up a city and a highway. At least I have my nation’s capital completed.

I came across a series of buried ruins and an underground lake while building both. I built over it, while taking care not completely destroy the structure. I sent several of my robots down into the ruins to investigate. Hopefully, they’ll return with valuable data about the island’s original people.

I made the decision to preserve the island’s coast as is. It was too difficult for me to sully such natural beauty. I sent a few of my robots there to monitor the area and to keep watch for signs of any visitors. I don’t want any tourists or government officials interfering with my plans, after all.

I keep forgetting to disable the traps in the aboveground ruins I encountered on my first day here. The days keep growing shorter, I suppose. I’ll have to take care of it later.

DAY 18

The robots I’d stationed on the coast had alerted me to a disturbance in the early hours of the morning. The images sent back by them appeared to be of some sort of beast. It was unlike any creature I’d ever encountered. I’m certain the zoologists on the mainland would’ve declared it a new species. Despite the intrigue the creature inspired, the reports indicated that it was attacking, and worse, destroying my robots. The animals housed in the robots’ internal suspension capsules would likely die of shock from the suspended animation process being halted unexpectedly. I had to do something.

I set out from the base in my craft, armed, but not looking for a fight. I optimistically assumed that perhaps this animal was one I’d missed in my sweep of the island, and was reacting this way out of fright. I hoped I could calm the creature upon my arrival, and put him into a sleep enclosure like the other animals. How wrong I was. When I arrived at the coast, I spotted the creature from the air, attacking the en mass suspended animation capsule I’d made for the coastal area. I descended in my craft and called out to the creature, in an attempt to reason with and/or calm it.

On first sight, the creature turned and lunged for my vehicle. I dodged out of the way and activated the weapons I’d installed, hoping to subdue it. Such an attempt proved futile. It was too quick to land a single hit upon, and before I knew it, it’d ripped the weapons off of my craft. I had no choice to retreat.

I flew away in my craft; fearful for what chaos this monster may bring to my new home. As I departed, I turned back to see the beast destroying the capsule. The animals I’d safely tugged away convulsed out of the wreckage, flopping about the ground below. My heart sank at the sight. I have to do something to stop this monster.

DAY 19

The airborne drones I released have tracked the creature’s route. It was crossing through the above ground ruins upon the last report. From what I can tell, the monster is heading for the city I just recently finished building. My new country’s capital is standing for three days, and already it’s under threat of attack. What’s more, it seems it found and disabled the VR Security device at the coast and retrieved the relic inside. In addition to being ferocious, it seems the creature is intelligent as well. Foolishly, I’d placed a capsule on the outskirts of the ruins, thinking it was safe. I felt I must go and retrieve it before the creature can destroy it and harm the animals inside.

I equipped my craft with a flamethrower, hoping this destructive beast couldn’t survive flames. When I arrived, once again, it proved too fast to actually land a hit. It sliced the flamethrower clean off of my craft, like a knife through butter. I had to flee again. I’ll have to block its progress at the city itself, I’m afraid. Let’s just hope my plan works.

DAY 20

The additional security I added to the city failed to keep the creature out. Most every robot I stationed there has been destroyed. My attempt to personally assault the creature failed again. I fled, in hopes to find another place to head it off, and later received reports that it’d dived into the underground ruins and destroyed every robot I put down there.

I attempted to dam up a portion of the underground lake to flood the ruins and drown the monster. I optimistically thought I could quell it this way, but the attempt failed. I suspect the creature may have increased lung capacity, as it later escaped the ruins after they’d been completely flooded. It seems bent on destroying every piece of technology I’ve placed on this island.

Less than an hour later, it was attacking the robots I’d left monitoring the highway. I attempted to head it off yet again, but I failed. Nothing I do, no weapon I try will stop this beast. I retreated to my base.

My robots outside the base have all been destroyed. The beast has also managed to find and disable each of the VR systems: now it has all of the relics in its claws. It’s planning something. All I know is that it wants me gone.

DAY 21

I haven’t slept. The creature breached the front gates of the base at the brink of dawn. Every robot and machine in its path has been brutally destroyed. I got desperate and opened up a trap door into a set of ruins I’d built the base on. I managed to plunge the demon down into it and seal it off, while hiding myself behind a force field.

I thought I was safe at that point, as there seemed to be no sign of it returning. To cool my head, I retreated into my lab to try and work on a large-scale hydraulic press I’d been working on to help me better manufacture my robots. It was then that the creature emerged from the floor and attacked the machine. Apparently, there was no killing it.

It totaled the machine before I could blink. I fled the lab and made my way down the corridor to the launch hatch for the craft I’d flown to the island. I could see the beast in hot pursuit. I managed to jump into the craft and lift off in time, flying off from the cliff overlooking the island below. I thought I was in the clear, but then it felt as it something had struck the back of the craft. The machinery sparked and burst into flames. I turned my head to look back at the launch hatch, and I saw the beast standing there, grinning in a grotesque satisfaction that it’d ensured my demise.

As I plummeted into the rocks below in a cloak of flames, I assured myself that I would survive. I would bring this world a utopia, even if it killed me. It was then, for the first time in my life, that I felt contempt for another living thing. This beast, for no reason, has destroyed all my hard work and risked the lives of those innocent creatures. It had more than earned my hatred. As sure as my name is Dr. Ivo Robotnik; I HATE that Hedgehog.

The Fallout Effect

June 17, 2012

It's my tenth birthday and I can't believe I have to put up with this crap. I hate my dad. Why would he make such a stupid decision? why did he move into this stupid Vivos vault when I was a baby? It's my birthday today and instead of having fun and playing outside like a regular kid, I get to eat some crappy-tasting cake in a cramped cafeteria.

Almost everyone here is either a complete whack job or a jerk. The only real friend I have is Amata. I can always count on her. It's times like this I think that I wouldn't be in this situation if it weren't for mom dying. I think it was her death that drove dad to make us move down here. My party's gonna start in about an hour and hopefully dad at least managed to find me something decent.

June 25, 2012

I think dad's gone crazy. He gave me a fucking gun. I don't know what I'm supposed to do with it down in this vault, but he doesn't seem to care. Mr. Almodover, or "The Overseer" as he likes to call himself, gave me a pretty cool digital watch. I wear it so much it's like it's welded to my wrist. I got nothing of value from anyone else.

December 28, 2012

It's past the "day of the apocalypse" and nothing has happened. Big surprise. My dad keeps insisting that the end will soon be upon us and that I should be thankful I'm in such a protected place. I try to convince him he's mad, but he won't pay me any mind.

February 13, 2014

I sneaked into my dad's office today. Him being the vault's only dentist, he has information on all the residents. I figured I might be able to get some inside information on Christine by accessing his computer. I found nothing and was about to leave before I noticed his personal journals were left open. I read the most recent entry.

"The Novocain transport pipe has a leak at point 323-XY3. A constant supply of Novocain is being added to the air supply. Due to the security and health implications of repairing it, we have decided to leave it be. The dosage is said to be small enough to have no effect on residents." I couldn't understand most of what he was talking about. I heard his footsteps approaching, so I quickly ran back to my room.

January 16, 2015

I was incredibly bored one day, as I was most days, so I decided to snoop around dad's office. he has a bobble-head with a huge medical syringe on his desk for some reason. I found his journals again and decided to read. "The gap has slowly widened over the last year. The Novocain doses are increasing. At this level, we expect minor brain damage as a side effect. I warned Alphonse of the implications, but he's gone mad with power. At this rate, the leak is doomed to increase in size. Permanent brain damage will be the result. I wouldn't be surprised if hallucinations start to set in after enough time has passed. I hope to God things resolve themselves."

I didn't know what Novocain was, but I sure knew what brain damage was. I immediately confronted my dad about what he wrote. He passed it off as a novel he was writing. It explains things better than it being true. I'll choose to believe it. For  now.

August 04, 2017

I'm suffering from what I believe are terrible hallucinations. I keep seeing giant cockroaches and my watch has become oddly high tech. I vaguely remembered my dad's journal talking about this, so I ran to his office and started reading. "I'm sure of it. Everyone is going mad from the Novocain. They're starting to fabricate things in their senses. The terrifying thing is that these hallucinations even penetrate one's memories. It's as if it completely alters your perception. Everything is livable, no one is crazy beyond reason, but if things persist to an unbearable point, I'll be forced to try to repair the pipe myself."

This was ridiculous. Why would dad say such things? The giant roaches have always been there. Ever since I was born. I even shot one on my birthday! Andy the robot had worked at dad's office for years. He was even at my party! The sheer implication he was making, that people were starting to go crazy...it's just preposterous. I'm sure this is just an inventive story of him. I'm sure everything's fine.

September 24, 2018

Today is the day of the big test! I'm really excited! I hope I'll become a Laundry Cannon Operator...Ooh! Or maybe a Pip-Boy Programmer! That would be so cool! Well, I better get going; I don't want to be late. Hopefully, I won't run into Butch and the Tunnel Snakes on my way there.

March 11, 2021

I found a note from my father. "Son, the vault is falling into ruin. I need to try my best to repair the Novocain pipe. For some reason, I'm the only one not affected by the gas. If I don't succeed or something goes wrong, I'm leaving the vault. Son, you mustn't leave. Everyone in the vault has gone homicidal and I don't know what they'll do to you. I'm not even sure if you can understand this letter. But just know that I love you." Dad is so silly.

March 12, 2021

Amata woke me up. She said there was a lock down. Officers were patrolling the halls and my father had escaped. She gave me a pistol and ran off. My God, I see what's happened. My father wasn't crazy. He was telling the truth! He was trying to save us all Everything I knew was a figment of my own creation. The ridiculous uniforms everyone wore the giant cockroaches, the robot doctor....it was all so ridiculous! How could I have been so stupid?!

I ran out of my room, determined to escape with my father. I cut a path of blood along my way, shooting what I thought were giant roaches and officers. Who knew if they were real or not? I shot the Overseer in cold blood and walked away from the sobbing form that was Amata. The exit to the vault was just within reach. I could feel my mind on fire. Everything warped before my eyes. I collapsed to the ground.

Date Unknown

I woke up at the entrance to the vault. I still had my uniform. I still had my Pip-Boy. It was all the same. I looked around. A barren landscape extended for miles. I was free of the vault, yet everything remained the same. How could this be? It hit me. It's all real. I was sane; my father was the crazy one. I had entered into a new, post-apocalyptic world and it was mine for the taking! I felt unstoppable! I picked up a radio signal on my watch and started running through the scorched field. On the horizon was what appeared to be a shanty town of some sort. I had a good feeling about this. I was on top of the world. I was unstoppable. I was the Lone Wanderer!

Subject 134 is one of our most interesting cases. We have no name for him, but he calls himself "the Lone Wanderer." He was found running around the Mojave Desert screaming, shouting, and talking to random foliage. he was also reported to be seen shooting at wildlife with a BB gun. Upon closer interrogation, he insists upon thinking he's in a post-apocalyptic landscape. He insists upon calling me Lucas Simms, the sheriff of some place he calls "Megaton." 

He keeps telling us that his cell is a house I provided him with upon diffusing the bomb in the center of town. The bomb he is referring to is what I believe to be the sculpture in the courtyard. We let him out occasionally. He always has the same reaction. He insists upon being in an apocalyptic world. We have no idea where he came from; he appeared to pop up out of nowhere. All we know for sure is that he shows little hope for improvement.