The 50 Dollars or Less Antique Shop

Eric and his girlfriend Mary had always known about the 50 Dollars or Less Antique Shop that was in the older end of town but they had never been in it. Today they finally decided to look into it when they heard some of the stuff is worth a lot more than what it’s sold for. They went in and looked around. Not a lot out of the ordinary. But this antique doll set that Mary was eyeing eventually caught Eric’s attention too. She told him that it was worth a couple hundred bucks so they decided to buy it and resell it. They take a few pictures and then post it online for selling.

The next day a man from the next town over comes by and pays $250 for it. They give him the dolls and he drives off. For two days everything seemed normal. But then he came back and gave them the dolls and told them to keep the money. He then drove off as fast as he could. Confused Mary and Eric look at each other. Then later they post it again.

Another person buys it but two days later the same thing happens. They ask him why he wanted to return it and he frantically said “I don’t want it anymore, just keep those away from me!” He runs over to his car and they ask him to wait but it’s too late. He drove off in a hurry.  They decide to just put the dolls in one of the storage garages. They go home and wonder what made them want to return the dolls.

In the morning they turn on the radio in the car while heading down to the store; when they hear something tragic. The owner of the storage complex had hung himself late in the night. They look at each other and then drive to get the dolls. As soon as they get home they put the dolls in the basement and get out their camera. They set it up to tape all night and they go to sleep.

When they wake up they go down and switch out the memory card. He turns on his laptop and they watch the video together. Nothing happens so they fast forward the video. They slow down right before midnight. At the time-stamp for midnight he could have sworn the largest doll blinked. Eric pauses the video and rewinds it; this time nothing.  Had he just imagined it? Surely not he reassured himself as they watch the rest of the video.

Mary goes out for a walk while Eric stays and researches different types of spirits. The spirit that seemed different than the rest was the one awaked by blood of a relative. These were said to be so rare that there’s no known way of getting rid of them. They were different than most other types of spirits. Most spirits haunted an area or an item. These would exist only where the blood relatives of the person who died had lived at one point. He read a story someone said about a spirit trapped in her apartment that left when the previous resident came to tell her how to fix the issue with the faucet. He read other stories similar to this one and was so caught up in reading them that he didn’t hear the front door shut.

Mary had come home. She asked if he had found anything of interest where he replied “no, not something believable.” They went to make some dinner and discussed what might have happened with the dolls. When they were going to bed the temperature in five rooms of the house were colder than the rest. Five. There were five dolls too.

In the morning they wake up and check on the dolls. They weren’t where they had left them. They go to make breakfast and to their surprise; the dolls were sitting in each of the five chairs at the table. They quickly pick up the dolls and drive them to the dump. They were truly in shock now. Their previous disbelief had disappeared. They went to the antique shop in search of answers.

The owner was the oldest person in town. They asked about the previous owners of the doll. He looked with a smile “why you were.” Mary looking shocked asks “me?” And the shop owner nods. Eric asks “what are you talking about?” The shop owner says “this shop burned down nearly fifty years ago. Killing me along with it. The things in here were items the towns’ people had sold to me over the years. But now the dead come for vessels to the world of the living. The dolls you bought seemed to be possessed by the family in ‘your’ house. When really you were the intruders in the house.” Both Eric and Mary asked at the same time “how did we die?” The shop owner replied “you died together in a car crash. Haven’t you ever noticed that you’re together almost all the time?”

Then at that moment a pale skinned little girl with a flower in her hair walks in through the door holding one of the antique dolls. The shop owner says “the flu has had many tolls this year.” 

By: Kylan Walker

Hell's Night

Why do people do bad things? Is it because they get some kind of gain from it... or do they just do it because they feel like it? Everyone does bad things for some reason or another. But when someone does something bad enough will it not impress the devil himself?

On a warm night a prisoner lays in his cell tossing and turning. He is not aware of the fate that Hell has planned for him. He awakens from his frightful slumber breathing heavy. He pulls a picture of his daughter from under his pillow. Staring at it he remembers her funeral. The family he knew for years who were the liveliest of folks seemed like strangers in their dark mood. When they were to finally bury his daughter he closed his eyes wishing that when he opened them he would be back at home, admiring a finger painting she had just made. But he knew that when he opened them she would still be dead.

A tear drops from his eye onto the picture of her, he wipes it off quickly so as not to damage it. He tries to go back to sleep but the prison guard knocks on his cell.

“Hey Freddy you having trouble sleeping?”

He responds “Yeah”

The guard takes out a yellow pill container and pops out two small pills.

“Here’s some Benadryl it should help.”

“Thanks.”

He holds out his hands and catches the pills, taking one at a time.

“Why did you help me?” He asks.

The guard responds with “Well – you don’t fight with the other prisoners and you seem like a good person at heart.”

“I killed my pregnant wife because I was afraid I’d lose another child.” The guard looks down and then walks away.

As Freddy drifts into a deep slumber he begins dreaming again. In time his dream ends but he does not awaken. Instead he finds himself surrounded by fire. “What hell was this? Or is this Hell?” He says loudly. He begins walking forward into a darker cavern where to his surprise he sees movement other than the flames dancing high above him. “Hello?” He shouts. Then being greeted by a thundering voice saying only this: “Follow me.” Freddy knew he had no choice but to follow this tall shadowy being.

After some time has passed and many caverns traversed he begins to realize this being that he is following is Lucifer himself.

Freddy then stops and asks “Why do you want me?”

“Because you possess the evil I desire.”

Freddy then confused says “But I regret killing my wife, I feel guilty about it!”

The being then makes a hollowing laugh. “We both know you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t enjoy what you did. Take a look around it’s your home now, destroy the souls of whomever you desire.”

They come up to a door with the words pyro-masochist written along it and Freddy touches it and shrilly jumps away from the heat. The being then pushes the door open revealing a long corridor of metal caskets along the walls with fire surrounding them giving some edges a red hot glow. Each casket having three holes; two for the eyes and one for the mouth.

Freddy then looks closer at a few caskets seeing that the lips and eyelids of every soul in the caskets had been burnt off. Revealing long yellow teeth and piercing eyes. Throughout the corridor a psychotic laughter could be heard out of nearly every mouth accounted for. Freddy then notices one that is not laughing. He is intrigued with this and walks closer. “Why are you not laughing?”

He coughs for a second then says in a raspy voice “Sometimes we enjoy pain because it reminds us of our last happy moments.”

Freddy then walks out and meets back with the being. The being says “Guilt is a type of pain.”

Confused for a second he asks “Why does that matter?”

The being walks past him and says “You felt guilt when you couldn’t save your daughter from pneumonia. Seeing her alive was your last happy moment.”

The next morning a coroner packs Freddy’s body into a body bag and wheels him away on a cart. One of the paramedics says “He died of a heart attack in his sleep.” While writing it onto his report. After finishing his report he finds the picture of Freddy’s daughter in the corner of the pillow and picks it up. One of the cops looks over his shoulder and says “That was his daughter, when his wife got pregnant again he was afraid he would lose his next child so he killed them both. A half hour later came to the station and confessed.” After the cell is cleaned up the few police officers and paramedics leave for their respective duties.

By Kylan Walker 

The Seven Murders of Markus Flair

One stormy evening a young man sits at the side of his mother’s bed weeping. His worst fears become true as he checks her heartbeat – nothing. She was dead, her age and sickness had caught up to her. The young man Markus calls the paramedics and they confirm that she is gone. He drives back to his apartment. He finds his girlfriend Sarah waiting for him drenched by the rain. Markus greeted her and invited her in. “I can’t.” she said. “I just wanted to let you know its over.” She added. As his heart sank all he could ask is “why?” She responds with “you were too attached to your mother; you were never there for me!” She then walked off in fury.

A year later Markus wakes in his room drenched with sweat and his face pale. He says “it’s only a dream Markus, calm down.” He looks over at a picture of his dead mother and begins to weep. “Today’s the day.” He says in despair. He then gets up and proceeds to get dressed. When he’s done he stares at the picture of his mother with worry.

He walks out of his apartment, walking down the road, until he sees a yard with a mother and child. He watches them for a while. His sadness and pain turns to anger. He walks up to the mother where she asks “can I help you?” He just stares at her for a minute then pulls out a knife he had concealed and he slits her throat. The son begins to cry and he stabs him. Markus walks out of the yard in a hurry.

Markus had walked down to the diner his mother took him to every Sunday when he was a child. He looked inside, staring at the table with the seat that faced the paintings. This is the seat he had always sat at. The young girl sitting in the seat had no idea he was watching her. He waits until she steps into the restroom; he walks in after her. As she’s about to close the stall door he forces his way in and chokes her; his grip firm and sturdy.

Upon leaving the diner he notices a couple holding hands. He follows them at a distance. After a few blocks travelled they stop. They begin to kiss. Markus catches up to them and stabs the boy. While the girl is in shock he covers her mouth and stabs her. He runs away quickly as he hears voices coming. A scream pierces the air and Markus looks around and runs in worry.

As he gains distance from the body he walks to his ex-girlfriend’s apartment. He sees her with another man. As they kiss each other goodbye and the man walks away Markus bumps into him in the parking lot. He stabs him but misses any fatal parts of his body. He takes a swing at Markus and they wrestle to the ground. Markus quickly grabs the handle of the knife and pulls upward. Blood rushes out as he dies. Markus gets up to go after Sarah. Now dizzy and weary.

He takes the spare key under the mat of Sarah’s apartment and unlocks the door. She turns around seeing Markus covered in blood; she drops her food and screams. As Markus runs toward her she runs into the kitchen and grabs a knife. He runs at her and takes a stab. They both stare into each other’s eyes shocked for a second. Then Markus looks down and sees Sarah’s knife in his stomach. He falls over and with his last breath says “I’m so sorry.”

By Kylan Walker

Letters From Lady Death

August 6, 1987

My dear Will,

I know it has been some time since your passing. Just past two years. I often stare at the night sky wondering if one of those glimmering stars is you staring back. Have I not seen the change of the moon more than twenty four times? I often think of you while staring at it. Some nights the white of the moon is the same as that in your eyes. Others it resembles the tan of your skin. Oh how I miss our talks. The way you would go on about the most pointless of things; yet I still listened.

I no longer listen to music for it is not the same as your singing. I miss you dearly. May my heart find comfort I knowing we will be together soon?

August 10, 1987

Dear William,

I know not why I feel your presence around me like my very shadow following me.  I visited the place of our first encounter today. The tear trickling down my cheek dried off quickly in the warm summer’s heat. I wish I could write more, but I must stop in fear of crying myself into an eternal slumber.

August 11, 1987

Dear Will,

I would assume you think it silly that I write to you though you are no longer living. But I feel that someday we will be together out in the stars somewhere that we know not of yet; at least in the living world. And maybe if you are not watching me, then at least you may get my letters I wrote for you. I just want you to know that I am alright and that you are still a part of my life. I hope wherever you are, that you are safe my dear Will.

August 12, 1987

Dear Will,

Today marks four years since we first met; that day I instantly knew I was in love. I saw a happy couple today they reminded me of us, at least until your passing. But seeing them happy saddened me with jealousy. Is that wrong of me to do? I just wish that was us, I wish they were the ones who had to suffer from loss. I guess that is wrong of me to do. But I suppose we all have done something like that in our lives haven’t we?

August 13, 1987

Dear Will,

I don’t think I can take it anymore. I wish there was a way I could see you again. I’m afraid of dying but I want to be with you so bad, wrapped in your arms again. It angers me that I can’t be with you. It angers me that others don’t have to feel our tragedy. Take care Will I hope wherever you are that you find happiness without me.

August, 16 1987

Dear Will,

I’m sorry for taking so long to write this letter, but I had to take care of some stuff. I know you’ll forgive me. I’m crying as I write this though. I got so angry that I, I, killed someone. I did it for you Will! For us! I had to. I couldn’t bear letting them have what we don’t – life. I needed to do this Will. You’ll forgive me though, won’t you?

August 17, 1987

Dear Will,

I thank you for forgiving me. While I was waiting for your reply I went out of the house to the town. No one even knows the couple I killed is missing. And thank you for visiting me last night. I know it was just a dream but I know it was you trying to speak to me… and the love we made was just like it was when you were alive. But anyways that’s beside the point. I found who I will kill next. Their happiness is an issue for us.

August 18, 1987

Dear Will,

Tonight I will redeem our life, at least in the short term. I know you will enjoy it. It gives you a thrill when I take a life doesn’t it? Otherwise you wouldn’t reward me with such passionate love after I do it. That is the reward I seek after each kill; your love and your bodily presence.

August 19, 1987

Dear Will,

I’m so sorry. I can’t handle the guilt of taking a life even if the reward is you. I will take my life tonight so you can’t make me kill anymore. I just need you to know I’m sorry.

August 20, 1987

Dear Will,

I’m sorry I tried to take my life; I didn’t know what I was doing. I’m nearly drowning in my tears Will! I’m sorry! I’ll kill for you again. Just please don’t hurt me.

August 21, 1987

Dear Will,

I could not clean the evidence thoroughly. For there was someone knocking on the door. I’m confident we will not be caught though. The love you gave me last night was amazing. I’ll kill again for you tomorrow morning

August 22, 1987

Dear Will,

Please visit me again. I killed for you again. Please give me the love I require to be happy. I’ll continue writing this after I see who is knocking on the door.

*The previous letters were found at Mariam Brennans’ house on August 22, the following is a police report describing what happened.*

On August 22 the police were questioning everyone who came into contact with the victims preceding their death. After a collection of data and stories we went to visit Mariam Brennan’s house to ask her about the people she might have seen with both victims. One of the officers knocked on the door and she opened up revealing a ghastly pale face. She ran back inside grabbing a kitchen knife and swinging it furiously. We went in and carefully detained her, and called for backup. She was detained as one of the officers opened a door revealing a room with the preserved dead body of a William Thatcher who was reported missing two years ago. The letters in the evidence file depict what appears to be an imaginary life she had with the body. After an extensive background check we learn Mariam had been institutionalized as a teenager for necrophilia and strange delusions which she was supposedly cured of. In the drawers we find the preserved and stuffed genitalia of multiple missing men over the past few years. 

By: Kylan Walker 

The Bust

Awake I lay

I hear the guns go off

The situation so fray

As the bullets begin to spray

Awake I lay

Lost in the sound of sirens

Only at the beginning of the day

Stuck in my home I must stay

Awake I lay

Chaos outside my home

The gunshots bray

A lone bullet gone astray

Awake I lay

A sound like a whip

For my safety I pray

But with my life; I pay

By: Kylan Walker

From Under My Bed

Strangers under my bed

I was told they were all in my head

Darkness comes

Out of the silence –hums

Coming from the visitors under my bed

I rest in a place of thought

Somewhere between my dreams

Somewhere I am alone

But yet feel so at home

I arise from my partial slumber

My thoughts a bit humbler

I then hear a sound

And I look around

It was my clock

That infernal tick-tock

But something deeper

Like a deadly reaper

An utter silence I hear

A sound that brings me fear

That near-silent hum

Of the strangers under my bed

I knew they were not real

But it’s like they knew what I feel

Their hums crawling into my skin

Like they could reach through the cloth of my bed -- that was so thin

…Just waiting for the moment

To finish their torment

To end my life in an instant

The only thing protecting me was the tick of my clock that was so distant

I hide under my covers

Wrapped up over me so fast

You’d think it was two lovers

And still the hum of my visitors amassed

I looked into the shadows

Dark eyes aglow

The form of a face I see

That oddly looked like me

(And at that moment) I realized that the monsters under the bed

That I thought were in my head

Were really me instead

A part of me I thought was dead

By: Kylan Walker

Memories

Slowly, slowly I crawled. Out of the pit from which I had been cast. The daylight had nearly blinded me. When my eyes regain focus of the world surrounding me, I notice green hills encompassing me for miles. I get up and stand; my legs limp. After a short while I regain the strength to walk. I continue walking among the path I set for myself when I come to a stop at the base of a tree. I look up and see a lone bird precariously perched among its branches. I look closer at it. It was a robin. As I stare at it I noticed something, it was gazing back at me! I dismiss it at first and continue walking. After I had gone a few miles I look around. Strange I thought, there had been no sign of civilization, or even life – except for that bird – for miles.

Realizing I may not find any other person for a long time I decide to set up a camp. I look up in the sky to determine how long I had ‘till dark. To my surprise the sun had not moved since I had left the pit. What world had I entered? I asked myself.

I am getting tired by this time. I find a fair sized tree and sleep in the shadow it casts. When I wake up I look around; nothing has changed. The sun brightly shines suspended in its position with the world encircling it. Had I been in a dream? I wondered. No I couldn’t have been. For I had dreamt of that horrid pit from which I had come from.

Then where was I? What reality had I entered? I stand up from where I had been laying and I begin walking off in the direction I had chosen preceding my sleep. After travelling a couple miles I noticed something. Perched on the tree was that lone robin, standing perfectly still. Staring at me as it had before. I continue walking among my path I had chosen for myself.

Beads of sweat formed on my head over time. My mouth became parched. I climb the nearest tree I find in hopes of seeing water. I notice a shining glimmer among the distance. I drop from the tree and run towards it. To my surprise I find a small circular pool of water. I take some water in my hands and place it up to my face. After I feel my thirst has been quenched I continue my walking seeing nothing out of the ordinary. I lie in the shadow of a tree and try to get some rest.

In my sleep I hear voices. I recognized these voices! They were the voices of my tormentor! My tormentor from the pit in which I had crawled out of. He was speaking of me. To whom I did not know. In hushed voices I hear “when we feel enough pain, we become numb. At this point we would be invincible if not for one thing! We’ve nearly reached the point of death by this time. But some say that emotional pain can bring us into something much darker. Soon we are no longer able to feel ourselves; we are no longer who we once were.” I realize he was talking to me. I open my eyes and look around. I was back in that dark pit. The only light I see is that of a furnace. My tormentor whose face I cannot see, notices me eyeing the furnace. He walks towards it pulling a rather long knife from amongst the hot embers. He puts it against my forehead; a slight hiss is heard as the hairs near the knife are singed off.

I awaken from my dream. Beads of sweat roll from my face. I feel the still singed hair falling onto my forehead. I am hungry. I figure the robin must have some source of food so I start paying attention the vegetation; nothing for miles, but then, I find a bush. It’s unlike any bush I have ever seen before. The flowers are a mix of pink and red. The leaves are almost triangular, dark green with a spotted yellow underside. Dotted amongst the branches were tiny blue berries that formed in small clusters. I pull some of them off. Fragile they nearly puncture in my hand. I place them in my mouth and begin eating. Their sweet juice flowing through my tongue. As I step away from the bush I look behind me; that lone robin - perched among the branches of the tree overshadowing me - was staring at me as he always does. He was staring at me! What did this bird want? I try to jump at the branch in an ill-fated attempt to scare away the bird.

I walk away from the tree, still staring at the bird. After the bird has become a small speck in my vision, I turn around. I reach a hill and began trekking up it. I reach the top. I look on for miles, still not a single sign of life other than that lone robin. I don’t know why it freaked me out – the robin staring at me that is. When I was younger and I felt alone, a robin visited me even in my darkest of times. It was my only friend sometimes as a kid. Then one day it stopped showing up by my window.

I go to rest under a tree. In my sleep I dream of the pit again. My tormentor is unbinding the ropes that held me to this chair. I get up feeling limp. My tormentor places a finger in a still open wound in my shoulder. I scream falling to the ground. Too weak to move; I watch as my tormentor walks towards the chamber door. Pulling out what looks like a body. Most of it is destroyed. My tormentor drags it close to me. My eyes widen in horror as I see the face of my mother; her ashen face still barely twitching from whatever tortures my tormentor had given her.

I awaken from my slumber screaming! A tear forming in my eye, I look up as I wipe it away. I see the lone robin staring back at me. I couldn’t stand moving I was too sad. I curl myself up and try to get back to my sleep. I don’t even care that the robin is stalking over me.

As fate should have it, I fall back to sleep. But fate can be a cruel mistress. And I am haunted by another horrid nightmare! Things are different. The room had been illuminated by candlelight. My tormentor whose face is still masked from my vision finishes what he had been telling me earlier. I assume he tells this to all his victims before he finally ends their lives. He says in a soft voice: “when we feel enough pain, we become numb. At this point we would be invincible if not for one thing! We’ve nearly reached the point of death by this time. But some say that emotional pain can bring us into something much darker. Soon we are no longer able to feel ourselves; we are no longer who we once were. And sometimes when the pain becomes unbearable, we put ourselves in a world of dreams and old memories, with nightmares of the reality we face.” 

By: Kylan Walker

On The Way

The year was 1930, and I was just about to buy a bus ticket. When I gave the awkward looking man the money for the bus ride he asked me a quick question, “What’s your name boy?” I am a very shy person so I stood there and gave him a stare. “My names James” I said. He nodded his head and gave me a signal to go sit in the back. Considering it had taken me several trips to go for a bus stop, I was very tired so I thought I’d take a quick nap and then sit and wait after. Except it wasn’t just a nap, I slept for a very long time, checking the time I soon realize I’ve been sleeping for about 3 hours. By about an hour I would expect the bus driver to wake me up and ask for more money, fortunately for me he didn’t.

I went to speak to the man and he seemed very quiet, as well I noticed everyone on the bus had got off. I stood over the bus driver, his pale face which was oddly more pallid than it was when I walked in. “Are you ok?” I said. Being curious was always what got me in trouble in some way. He never responded and kept his eyes on the road like he never even noticed me. Soon we stumbled into a town, on the map it said we were somewhere in providence. “Weird, I never asked to pass through providence” I thought. I looked back and asked “How did you know I wanted to go through providence?” Again he didn’t respond so we kept going.

Finally we stopped at a bus stop which relieved me because I didn’t want to stay in a vehicle with this weirdo. I walked out and thanked the man even though he probably wasn’t going to reply, but when I got off the bus he said something in the creepiest voice imaginable. “Good luck”. Before I could speak he closed the doors and drove as fast as he could go, that man was such a creeper I couldn’t believe it if he actually had friends or even a girlfriend. I walked around until I found a house with a mailbox that stated “The smiths”. Strange that name is so common but I decided to talk to them and maybe ask of a place I may stay for a while. I knocked on the door which seemed to be a long time before a little girl answered.

In the rudest way possible she asked “Something you need?” I hesitated to answer because the way she looked at me was like she was demonized. “Hi I’m James, are you parents’ home?” She rolled her eyes and spoke the words “Get over here”. How obedient and bratty I thought she was going to get her butt whooped until her father stepped in and ignored her. “Yes what?”  “I’m on my way to Greenville and was wondering since its getting dark out if I could stay in and have dinner with you fine people”. (Did I mention being a suck up was always my way as well?) He looked at me all around and finally just hand signaled me in. I saw a very boring style of a house; nothing was out of order except the shoes I removed. I was surprised to not see toys or dolls from the little girl but nothing was here. I was creeped out and as soon as I heard their mother calling for dinner it scared me even more. Considering that she didn’t sound like a human being at all. I sat down at the table enjoying this food that seemed to plain I decided not to be curious about it. “So is this town nice here?” I say as soon as I scarfed down that non mixed rice. “Well we don’t talk to people like you about that because you’re an outsider who needs to visit aba…” She is stopped by the father and they go into the room to talk, then a boy walks out in perfect clothes and fresh shoes. “Who the hell are you?” He asks in a disrespectful way. I didn’t answer but instead found the guest room and slept.

The next morning I tried taking off only there was one problem, I couldn’t.  They were holding me there because of very little things like “Oh you need to eat” and “but you need clean clothes”. Finally I told them I’m leaving and they got furious. The boy raised his tongue upwards and something came out of his mouth I look to see it was a rat. I was freaked out so I ran out of there. Only to see a mysterious castle. On the side were gargoyles and other horrific stuff that gave me the chills. I went closer but then I realized the mailbox had the words OPEN instead of “The smiths” on it. I opened and found a bible bookmarked to the chant to get demons out of the bodies. I thought about it. What’s wrong with this place?

I went into the castle trying to remember the shout and what to say if I encounter any demons. Soon a man walked out which looked like a king of some sort and was red eyed. “What brings you here mortal”? Mortal he is a human too, but those words didn’t make me so confident about it. I looked at him and said “are you the one who has tormented this so called town?” He replied with
“Very well then leave or be possessed.” His eyes were pure white with no pupils. I then chanted "We drive you from us, whoever you may be, unclean spirits, all satanic powers, all infernal invaders, all wicked legions, assemblies and sects...” Before he could be halfway finished he screamed and begged for mercy. I continued: “Thus, cursed dragon, and you, diabolical legions, we adjure you... stop deceiving human creatures and pouring out to them the poison of eternal damnation...”

I then spoke these words of the chant “Be gone, Satan, inventor and master of all deceit, enemy of man's salvation...
Stoop beneath the all-powerful Hand of God; tremble and flee when we invoke the Holy and terrible Name... which causes hell to tremble...
From the snares of the devil, deliver us, O Lord. That Thy Church may serve Thee in peace and liberty; we beseech Thee to hear us." The demon screamed as he was getting burned and melted but before he melted he sent a demon Alabam, to possess me soon I was fighting for my life but I knew it was too late so I let god take me in and let me die a possessed man.

~Ricky Wilson

The Well

You pushed me down the well

I hope you have fun in hell

It was the day I fell

Which was the day I felt

It scared me I must say

Knowing I would die today

I woke up like I would

And looked to where my table stood

I put on my clothes

And put food on the stove

I was feeling restless

Much like how you were relentless

When you were beating me senseless

I cried hoping I would wake up

But was without luck

As it was not a dream

All I could do was scream

I collapsed from pain

Blood coursing through my veins

My heart racing; I said to myself

That at least you’ll burn in hell

It all seemed rather dire

When you decided to burn me in the fire

You suspended me from a wire

But when the fuel would not light

I looked in your eyes and saw fright

You knew it would not burn

I broke free from the wire I was held by

Now it was my turn

I smiled looking sly

I pulled out a knife

And begun to slice

Your skin so smooth

It’s a shame I’ll cut all the way through

It was a pleasure knowing you

But in the middle of the cut I noticed something

You had no fear

You felt no agony

I realized that as I cut… I was just like you

Broken and numb

Then I sat down

Right there next to you

Your body seemed lifeless yet warm

Had your soul finally been torn?

I felt your heart and there was a beat

And I looked down and noticed a twitching of your feet

I threw the knife down the well

Deep into the darkness it fell

I heard a splash that echoed faintly

As the surrounding world turned quiet

I felt a sense of safety

That withered away quickly

As the sky began to pour

And my body was feeling sore

The air felt warm and damp

I dragged you under the well

Under the cover it was arid

But then you awoke

From fear I started to choke

For that look in your eye was horrifying

And I began petrifying

The way you seemed to see my soul was terrifying

I gasped and began to fall

I reached out hoping to grab hold of the wall

Nevermore will I see another day

The light began to fade

The farther I fell

The closer I felt

To the end of my suffering

If you had let me live

Maybe I would confess my sins

Maybe I would have changed for the better

Or I would have stayed worse

Maybe it’s best for me

For me to no longer be

I thought back on these moments

They were no longer of torment

I knew I would get what I deserve in hell

And honestly I’m glad I fell

By: Kylan Walker

The Artist

It was all over the news; a serial killer in my home state of Washington! The killer travelled around the western side of Washington, towns like Renton, Seattle, North Bend, and so on. I was watching the news in my apartment; they called him the Evergreen Killer. The police would not divulge the details of the killings; all they could say is that he had an artistic mind. Great I thought; there are tons of artists in Washington. In addition the police revealed that the reason for these killings may have been a period of depression he recently went through; maybe his art being resented by someone he cared for, or not being seen. I noticed that as the police continued on they mentioned artist a lot. This got me curious; I searched for body artists in Washington. Assuming that the killer did some sort of artwork on their body. Then I cross referenced any with medical experience. There was a list of about 180 people. Maybe my list was wrong but I decided to email the list to my friend at the police department. Since the killer had crossed multiple county lines the FBI had come to work with each of the lead departments.

My friend replied back saying that the FBI’s lead investigator loved the idea, and greatly narrowed the search. I had been training to be a detective but during my studies in criminology I got interested in other things. I knew I liked solving things but I got interested in solving problems for computers; they seemed so much easier to use than the real world. My father had been a psychiatry teacher at the University of Washington. In fact that’s why my family had moved to America when I was 3 years old. We came from Ireland and I would always visit my cousins there every year or two. My mother had found a job as a waitress for a restaurant. My parents were very kind, and always pushed me to exceed in the things I do; but back to the point. My friend at the police department told the police about my theory and they recruited me to help consult on the case. At first I was hesitant, but after I had a few hours to talk it over with my friend at the bar he finally convinced me to join the search.

When I had gotten over my hangover the next day I packed up my stuff; computer, notebook, sticky notes, etc. I went over to the police department to talk with the lead investigator from the FBI; his name was Mark Finley, he solved the country’s most recent serial killer.

The Mad Dog they called him. He would use the head of a dog that the teeth were coated in saliva with rabies. After he killed his victims he would bite into the neck of each victim. Mark had figured out that he was mad that his sister when she was two, died from getting bit in the neck by a mad dog. He had been looking over newspapers about dog attacks and found the story about a group of people who were killed by a rabid dog. One of the relatives; an older brother, had witnessed his sister get bitten by the dog. The evidence of this wouldn’t have been strong enough to support his claim, but he found an article about him getting put into a mental institution for anti-social personality disorder which he was later assumed cured of and released. This evidence held up for the judge and a search warrant was issued. No one in the neighborhood had any dogs. This was their final clue so they found the guy and he had heard them coming. When the FBI invaded the house he jammed his head into a bear trap and it ripped a large portion of his neck out and he bled out minutes later.

When I was told my idea had possibly narrowed the search they gave me all the details about the case and my own little cubical to set up what I was working on. They told me all the cities that the killer had attacked in. I mapped each one down, looking for a pattern and saw nothing. My friend the detective came and we talked over possible things about the killer. Just then Mark came back into the building and said “detective Stevens I need to talk to you.” And with that my friend left the room. His name was Jacob Stevens, I had known him since high school, we went to college together to study criminology and then we each went our separate ways. We still stayed in contact; and would often talk about the projects we were doing. After Jacob had gotten back, he gave me the photographs of the crime scenes. Each body was found in a random place, and a picture was found at a separate location. The pictures were painted with their blood and their skin as his canvas; this was one truly sick mind.

The first picture was the picture of a skull; the blood seemed to smear upward; that’s when I got it. The painting was done upside down. The guy must have a high I.Q. to be able to draw things such as that. The skull seemed very detailed; I am able to count the teeth on the skull, and can see the part where the cartilage that connects the nose to the skull had been really detailed. This guy was so artistic; it’s a shame he had to waste this talent on murdering people. I look at the other pictures, I see an angel, and the angel seems to be holding something; it looked like a decapitated head. I can see the layers of feathers on her wings that are so boldly drafted. On her face you can see how he parted the blood to make it seem as though a tear formed from her eye that breezed down her face to the side of her cheek; it was so unique. The third picture I saw seemed different. It seemed like he was painting a death instead of something that was dead. He painted a being reaching out to the sky, used the dripping technique to make it seem like his body was exploding upward, his face was detailed enough to see a crying expression.

There were more paintings, despite how intriguing they were to look at; I just could not stand to describe them any further. They were beautiful yet full of some sadistic evil. I didn’t want to think about them anymore. Jacob told me I should take a break; I go across the street to the Starbucks. In Washington it seems like there’s a coffee shop on every corner. I got a normal cup of black coffee with sugar, paid and left. When I was walking up the stairs I realized something; what if he was expressing something he witnessed in his life? I ran up the stairs almost spilling my coffee as the plastic lid wasn’t put on properly. I made it up stairs and told them my idea. Look for events that involve those pictures. After about a day of searching with two teams, we couldn’t find anything. I was dismayed at this. I felt strongly that my idea had been correct. I collect news articles for the past 30 years from around the country. I set up a computer search algorithm on the documents for certain text tags; still nothing. Then it happened. An angel statue was destroyed, and a man was burned to death on the same day. No news article about the skull… or any of the other paintings. I felt I was getting closer. These events happened in Florida, it’s as if the killer – assuming these events involved him – was trying to get away from it all.

I bring up my find to Mark and he puts it on a board for a possible idea to look into. He assigns two agents to search for any similarities between the two; other than that they were in the town. “Look for similarities to the other paintings in nearby towns.” He told them. I said we can probably narrow it down with people who were on the list that moved to Washington in the past 20 years. The events in the newspapers took place about twenty years ago. We shortened the list to about 25 people, strange I thought it would be shorter by this time. We crossed off 2 of them because they were dead now. One of them was documented at the site of the angel statue. None of the remaining ones seemed to be related to the paintings, or stories.

The next day another victim was found. This victim’s body was found half an hour later. The painting was of what appeared to be an island, surrounded by an ocean filled with dead bodies. He must’ve used a really small brush for such detail. The canvas was larger than his normal canvas’s he made from the human skin. Instead of the fishing wire he usually uses to stitch the skin together into a sheet; this time he used the victim’s hair. The stitching in the middle formed words that made this sentence: “and with death comes new life, the lost will be set free tonight.” We documented this and were worried.

Sunset had begun to fall, and we had no idea what to do. There had been a multitude of missing person’s cases in the past year and we did not know how many would be victims. We could tell from the circumstances that this attack was going to be an escalation of the previous single murders. During the next Seahawks game at the Seahawks Stadium right before the players stepped into the field, an array of wiring pulls the dirt off the ground. An entire canvas of skin with a painting of blood shows. Every single viewer of this game is screaming. This image was being broadcasted live. I noticed the game on television; that canvas must have been made from hundreds of bodies, most importantly how did he place the painting there in such little time. The painting was of two groups about to go to war with each other. Above that in the horizon were the entity of death and rays of blood lightly splattered over heading towards the being of death. The skin had made a natural sunset appearance from the way the different skin colors formed. The FBI had made it to the field in less than 10 minutes but at that point the entire nation was in panic.

They had to bring helicopters to remove the painting without damaging it. They had taken a team to look over every single detail on this painting, there had to be some sort of evidence. After a day of searching all that was found was parts of the painting that were written in human hair saying random phrases such as “Be the one who brings the night, for you must do what you know is right” None of the FBI psychologists and text analysts could depict anything about the picture. It was as if he wasn’t human; at least in the psychological sense of the word.

The idea popped into my mind when I was getting ready for the night in the bathroom. I jumped to my phone and called Mark. I told him “the killer would respond if we insulted his art on television. He had to admire his work on the news, or the internet. We should convince an art critic to explain the flaws in his drawings to lure them out.” Mark was impressed with my plan and begun prepping for it right away. The next day at noon I turn on the news to view the news post explaining the killer’s art works are just amateur work.

I was hoping this was to pay off and not become a serious mistake. I drove around Seattle, I couldn’t sleep. I’m going through my thoughts when I realized, the killer always put his paintings around trash dumpsters, or coffee shops. The only thought that could go through my head was bad dreams. Then I realized the killer must be afraid to sleep. He must see nightmares with these images in his head; that he is afraid of and they drove him into madness. He wanted everyone to see, but he wanted to throw them away. I called Jacob and he told the station my discovery. We look for anything depicting an artist that wants to get rid of some of his works. We find only three; one of them was from the two guys that we crossed out due to them dying. I noticed this and pointed it out to the rest of the group. He must have been alive this whole time. “How do we find someone who’s dead?” Jacob asked. Everyone looked around not knowing what to say. Mark asks “how long has he been dead?” I say “let me check” and go to my files. He died, three weeks before the killings started. He was in a fire that burned him so much that his body was no longer recognizable. We got to the point where it was obvious that the body was someone else. But now we were stuck with a dead man killing people. What could we do? I left for another cup of coffee; Jacob came out and followed me and told me not to get another cup. I asked why; he responded with. “Because you seem to drink coffee when you’re nervous and you’re not putting as much input as you could if you weren’t under the effects of caffeine.” I had decided he was right and went back up.

When I was walking up the stairs with Jacob I felt a slight perforate on my neck and then everything went dark. After what seemed like seconds I awoke in a cold room. I look around and see a tray of surgical knives and an array of strange looking tools. One I recognized from one of my criminology lectures where the professor was explaining tools used to deal with criminals in medieval times. I think the name of the tool was “The Pear of Anguish” or something similar. It was stuck in one of the body’s larger holes and then slowly expanded, sometimes over periods of days or weeks. Until the body gives out from stress, and such symptoms as the jaw being removed if it was placed orally; or other such injuries such as the legs are dislocated if the Pear was placed lower. I could not see or hear Jacob; had he been the killer the whole time? No I thought Jacob wouldn’t do something like this.

Moments later a man walks in; holding a paintbrush with red drops dripping from the tip of it. The brush had dried blood along the shaft of it. I look back up at him and see he has a white shirt with a rubber apron over it. He has long black gloves, and he has black rain boots which were surprisingly clean. I notice a mask over his face made of a black plastic or rubbery substance. I look around the room again, just for any possible ways to escape. I see nothing but plastic, hanging lights, rusty metal walls and a bare concrete floor. There was no way for me to escape. I struggle but nothing happens.

I was stuck, suspended in that position. I tried shaking hoping it would loosen something. Nothing happened. The man takes his knife and begins cutting around my left thigh, I scream as loud as I can. He steps back and gags me and I’m shaking as violently as I can. He knocks loose one of the levers on the cuff holding my hand in place and he doesn’t notice it. I bite his neck and he goes into the next room to patch it up I assumed. I unlock the cuffs that are holding me down and grab one of the tools on the tray. He comes out and I stab him in the stomach and head to the next room in a limping manner. I look and I see a door and go through it. I see the skin of Jacobs face lying on the floor and I collapse with sadness and fear. I scramble to get up just as the killer lunges at me and we scuffle.

I kick him off with my good leg and get up and start trying to move; I slip in a pool of Jacobs’s blood which causes the killer to miss his swing at me. I crawl into the next room and find a drawer. I notice a lock on one of them; I take a screw driver and jam it into the lock breaking it. I open the drawer and find a gun; a .44 magnum revolver. I check to see that it only has one bullet. I must make my shot count or he’ll kill me. He comes running towards me and I shoot. I missed! He lunges at me but I pull the desk down on top of me; he pulls it off of me as I took the knife I grabbed earlier and stab him in the chest. The crimson fluid flows from his body. I find my way outside of the building and call the police; they arrive minutes later as I pass out from blood loss. A week later I awake in a hospital bed. “I had survived” I whisper faintly under my breath. 

By: Kylan Walker

Dreams and Nightmares

I could not see. There was no light. I stumbled to get up; at that moment I turned around. I saw a light, where was I? Under the light there was a chair, just an ordinary wood chair that you’d see in many houses. In fact I had one just like it at my house. I started getting closer to the chair, as that happened I noticed screaming. The closer I got, the louder it became. I backed away afraid of what would happen. Was I dreaming? I think I was. I tried to wake myself up. Nothing happened. I turned away from the chair and started falling. I landed in a hallway, what was that horrid stench? I walked on towards the doors at the end of the hall. I see a room at the side of the hall; it was my old school room from when I was a kid. The room was lifeless except for two children in the spots of the two kids who died the year I had that class. They turn around and look at me, their rotting corpses and unblinking eyes staring at me they looked scared.

I turn away and run down the hall. I make it to the two doors and try to open them. They were locked. I look back and see the lights in the hall are turning off. A rush of adrenalin hits me and I am trying to break through the doors. I run at them just as the lights turn off where I am and the doors open. I was now in a cemetery. I see me and my family mourning over our dead father as his casket is lowered into the ground. This memory brings tears to my eyes, I wipe them off. The tears were blood! I jump back startled. I look behind me seeing that I was surrounded by the graveyard. I run, I hear suppressed moans coming from the ground. I run faster; the moans get louder. The faster I run the louder they get until they become shrill cries striking terror in my body. I made it to the gate, I opened it. When I walked through I saw me in the past proposing to the wonderful girl who is now my wife. I tried to get closer but when I walked into the garden there was nothing. Everyone had vanished and all the plants were dead; their bright colors gone.

I wished this dream would just end. It felt like I would never wake up. I find myself falling again. This dream must be the punishment I get for drinking too much and cheating on my wife the week before. When or if I wake up I’m going to tell her what happened, and I’m never going to go to a bar again! I try to walk home from where I am. Maybe if I go home I can wake up. When I’m going home I pass the bar I was at. I pick up a brick and throw it at the bar. The window shatters and the pieces of glass freeze as they are in the middle of their plummet. In fact; everything but me freezes. The ravens in the sky are no longer moving, the world has come to a halt. I try to move; all of a sudden I am frozen. I close my eyes and count to ten hoping something will happen. All of a sudden; a rush comes to my body as though waking up. I open my eyes; I was in the room where I started! I move towards the chair, the screaming starts. As I get closer the screaming gets louder and louder until it becomes deafening.

 I make it to the chair and sit on it and then to my surprise the world around me disappears and I wake up! But something seemed different. Everything was shadowy and seemed to have a blur, as though a person’s hand waving while caught on camera. I stand up and see my wife screaming and crying. It was almost like the screaming I heard in the dream; without the crying. I look back at the chair and see myself on the chair with my gun from our safe hanging in my hand and a hole through my head. I remember now. I felt so guilty for cheating on her; I just couldn’t take it anymore. I had taken the gun and shot myself because I couldn’t bear the guilt anymore. I had ended it all; the suffering I thought. But now I realize that after death there is nothing but a blackness that consumes you for eternity.

By: Kylan Walker

Heart of Shadows

Deep in the abyss of darkness lies the ashen remains of an evil that once struck fear into the bravest of men; and caused suffering to whomever lay in its path. An evil that bore fear unto death itself. As death creeps upon its prey, slowly decaying a life until it ceases to exist. With the sands of time counting down until the end, the lugubrious cycle of life. But without adventure life becomes insipid. But with all adventure comes risk. What greater adventure then ascending to the top of the world?

Six friends had travelled to Nepal for the journey of a lifetime. To reach the top of the world with such intrepid mannerism; they had begun their ascent unto the heavens. This kind of friendship they shared was the friendship of a lifetime. They had all known each other since they were just kids. Now as vibrant young adults they shared a bond that has survived through thick and thin. As the group reached the base camp they were excited. They sat around a fire and talked with anticipation. They could not wait to begin the ascent.

The next day they were all well rested. Brandon was the first to be ready; everyone knew he did it to make up for him being the youngest. Britney helped pack up the rest of the supplies and they were off to new heights. James noticed a part in the rocks and snow that made somewhat of a path and they head up it. As they made haste up the mountain it began to grow dark. Stacey stepped off the path and hit a chunk of ice. It collapsed and she jumped back on the path. The group notices a large crevice had been exposed. They walk over towards the edge and look down. They could not see the bottom of it. “How far do ya’ think it goes?” Josh asked. Everyone looked down, even though the sunlight was shining into the crevice from its position at sunset. Strangely enough the sunlight did not illuminate the bottom of the crevice. The group looks down again and feels a spine tingling chill throughout their bodies. They moved away from the crevice.

After hours of hiking the group had only made it so far up the mountain. The snow and winds greatly reduced the distance they were able to cover. Had it not been for the groups determination they would have given up their daring journey right then and there. The group found sturdy ground, with a magnificent view of the rest of the Himalayas; patches of green towards parts of the bottom, with snowcapped mountains that reached high up past the clouds. Without the lights of the city, and the high altitude, the stars had started becoming visible on the opposite side of the sky as the sunset. This beautiful sight amazed the group and petrified them as they were struck with awe. After the group had finished admiring the world around them they began to set up their camp. For even the sight of beauty wasn’t enough to mask the harsh mountain climate.

The next day the group had climbed for around three hours when they noticed something strange. They looked over and saw what appeared to be a man, wearing only a black cloak that moved across the snow as if he wasn’t even on the ground. As the being moved away from the group they lost sight of it in the fog, but not before a gust of wind blew by; the air was thick and heavy, unusual for the high altitude.

Sleep had been hard for the group; each member was too scared to sleep. The group was finally able to move on the next day, however everyone was extremely tired. They had made fine progress the previous day, but even so, must continue to head up the mountain as fast as they can; for the journey is treacherous and the rations can wither away fast. But with this danger comes an exciting thrill that slows the world around. Time is as if a rushing waterfall that feeds into a lake freezing over; it has become stagnant. As the group continues they are halted by an unearthly shadow passing over them. They look to find the source, but nothing is found. Then they feel a cold passing through them, though the air was stagnant. “What had happened?” Britney asked. “I don’t know.” Josh replied.

The group just wanted to finish their journey; to be rid of the things that bring them such fear. They continued to climb, until they saw a small ravine in the ground. They look down; they see the being they saw earlier. What they had noticed is that the cloak was not made out of any solid material; it was a black fog that enclosed around the beings body! Seeing this disturbed them, and they quickly moved on. They go around a part of the mountain blocking their path, it sort of was like a boulder, but also as if a separate mountain on its own; it blocked the path going up, so they had to detour around. When the group made it around they noticed the being walking towards them, they stopped and stumbled, two of them fell. They were paralyzed with fear. The being grabbed James before he got up. Josh got up and ran; the group followed with him.

When they found another back road to climb the mountain they directed up it. The group set up their camp, hoping that the being would not find them. When they woke up the next day they smelt something awful. But what was it? They get out of their tents and see James’s body naked; lying in the ground with his arms to his sides. The blood had been removed from his body and formed a hollow ring around him. It was a perfect circle and none of it touched his body; they looked closer and see his eyes have been gouged out. They began to freak out. They packed up camp in a hurry forgetting one of their tents.

They climbed, higher, the higher they climbed they began to question the being. “What if it’s the spirit of someone who died climbing up to the top and he must follow us to the top to be set free?” Britney said. She had been one to research a lot of ghost stories often. “That’s absurd!” Brandon said. Josh replied: “What if it is really a spirit or something?” and then Bruce replied “Then we find a way to kill it.” But the group knew deep inside them that evil cannot be killed; only suppressed and locked away.

They climb higher, towards the end of the day; they have ascended to a point where the top is visible. They decide to push on through the night. Nothing seemed to be happening, and this is what worried them. They make it to the top where they feel protected. They rest there and the next day they begin the decent back down.

As they descended faster than they climbed up; they had already made pleasing progress. They had begun to set up their camp when a chill ran down their bodies, almost as if ice being rubbed down their spines. They looked around seeing nothing… just the desolate freezing terrain they were surrounded by. The next day they continued their journey; the decent back home. The group had made a significant amount of progress on their decent; they went to sleep without seeing anything out of the ordinary. They woke up the next day, or at least most of them woke up the next day. They saw Bruce and Stacey frozen together hugging outside, their bodies’ upright and pale, covered in a thin layer of ice giving their bodies a reflective shine without disturbing the ability to see their faces. They were looking into each other’s eyes, whilst a formed gasping expression was noticeable. Their bodies’ seemed thinner; then the group looked down. A ring of blood was perfectly formed around their bodies.

The group began to run, but the snow made this difficult, they hit a patch of ice and go sliding down the mountain side. They grab their ice picks and use it to get a grip and stop sliding; they look up and see the being standing over them; as the being stood over them the black smoke was blowing to the side looking as if it waves flowing out from around the beings body. The being had a necklace around his thin pale lifeless body; connected to the necklace was a dangling heart blacker then the night itself. The heart was still beating, though connected to nothing but the necklace. The way the skin wrapped around his body, as if leather wrapped tightly around a chair, made a majority of the beings skeleton visible; except for the part over its stomach which seemed to have no muscle under it and no belly button on the center of it. The being reached through Josh’s chest and pulled out his heart; he stood there for a few seconds looking at what had happened, there was no puncture wound. He collapsed and his body begun to slide down the ice and the blood began to flow out of his eyes. It then blew away in the air, the same way the black smoke blew from the beings body, a crimson stream flowing through the air.

Brandon and Britney were all that was left; the being moved away as they released their ice picks and continued to slide; they later got to a point where they could get off the ice and continue their journey back on the snow; they begin to get off but Brandon falls into a hole in the ice that is made when he pulls his ice pick out. He falls into the ground, and lands on his icepick. At that moment Britney could see the being down in the hole looking down at his body. Britney began to run down, tripping every few steps; she slowed to a walk when she realized she’d travel faster if she didn’t trip. But even still she was worried, when she realized that she was near the crevice that Stacey accidentally opened, she knew this was how that being had been released. She yelled for the being, nothing happened. She waited and waited; yet still nothing happened. She set up her camp and slept in her tent. She woke up every few hours out of fear; and then at around midnight it happened. She opened her eyes and the being was right over her, its face was extremely close to hers, it screamed despite the fact it did not have a mouth; and she grabbed the heart necklace, the being pulled back at her. She grabbed the ice pick and the being pulled her towards the crevice. She takes the ice pick and swings it at the beings head and it doesn’t do anything, she pulls it out and there’s no wound. She realizes the black heart started beating faster, she rips off the necklace and the being is hurt. The being is crawling towards her as she is about to swing down on the heart with her ice pick. The being jumps on her just as she hits it and they both fall deep into the crevice. As they reach the bottom both their bodies are rendered lifeless and the being has been vanquished. The smoke ceases to flow from the beings body. But at that moment the heart laying knocked away from either of their bodies begins to beat.

By: Kylan Walker

From The Trees

It was supposed to be an ordinary camping trip, deep in the woods with no technology, just nature at its finest. But how were we supposed to know what was going to happen? It started when our friend Jason Erhard had proposed the idea to go camping in the woods. He told us to leave technology behind and only bring the essentials for two nights. It seemed simple enough to us, we enjoyed the idea of a break from social media and the complexities of life. When Jason came to pick us up we were excited, we had grown up in a small town in Oregon with a large forest near it that we often went camping in. In fact that’s where we thought we were going. To our surprise Jason went passed the dirt road to the place where most people camped. No problem; I just thought he was taking us to an unpolluted part of the forest. But no, we drove along a highway for many miles until we found a road that lead to a series of dirt roads that were laid out almost like a maze. We had finally reached the edge of a forest. We got our supplies and started heading into this place that seemed so new and frightening to us.

After we had hiked a few miles we found a spot to set up camp. Jason explained to us about how he heard some people saying that this forest was amazing and really untraveled. “In fact they said it would be a miracle if you saw someone else there.” Jason said. Anne Adelaide and Joshua Yong set up their tents while Jason was telling us really goofy scary stories. I became tired quicker than the other’s. I’m very sleep deprived from my insomnia. Some nights I just get tired but I just keep waking up. Jason used to always joke about how I’d someday go mad from all this sleep deprivation.

It was only our second day but we didn’t pack enough food, we began to head out of the forest. Everything seemed different heading back. The trees seemed thicker and the path seemed longer; unlike the rides home after visiting family or friends. We began to lose our way. That is if we had not already. “Don’t you know how to get back?” I asked Jason with a slight knot in my throat caused by uneasiness. We were lost.

Jason set up camp and decided that we can get some rest and try to find our way back the next day. It had been three days after that where we gave up hope. We were starving. We knew we would have to eat something soon or we would die. The aching of hunger had kept me up for the past nights and I knew I wasn’t myself anymore. My ideas for survival were beginning to be really disturbing. But maybe they would work. “No they couldn’t” I told myself. Knowing it was pointless; if I didn’t do it one of the others might before me. I had to kill the others. I know cannibalism is messed up but I need to survive!

I took my knife and as the group slept I killed them off one by one. I had killed them. What kind of monster had I become? I killed my own friends to ensure the possibility of my survival. But there was nothing I could do now except finish cooking the bodies. I prepared the bodies quickly; just taking chunks on a stick and roasting it over a fire. Now that I had eaten I could get some sleep. Sleep was what I needed. I fell asleep; in my sleep I began to sweat, I was tossing and turning. This nightmare was killing me.

I was in a white room with my friends. Had we died? My friends began looking at me and then looking at each other. They took me over to a dining hall, finally something to eat! They brought the cows and pigs out; many animals to eat. The dining hall had many foods to choose from, fruits from all over the world, bowls of gravy, and so much more.  The animals that had been brought in began butchering themselves alive and forcing themselves onto the plates. My friends ate them raw and as I looked down at my food it had the face of one of my friends and I screamed.

I screamed and woke up. What a horrid nightmare. I knew that would not be the last time I saw that dream again. When the sun had risen enough for me to travel by its light, I was ready to try to get out of there. I gave my friends a proper burial and got ready to go on my way. I knew that it would take a few days to find my way back, and I knew my life would never be the same. As I was packing up I heard what sounded like voices. Yes they were voices! I started to tear up, my friends had died for no reason… and it’s my fault!

When I got home I stayed isolated. I didn’t talk to my parents, I didn’t visit Facebook, and I didn’t talk to my friends from class. For the next two weeks I was desolate. The worst part was that I couldn’t get the taste of human flesh out of my mind. In my math class I had my mouth resting on my arm and I was sleeping, the teacher woke me up and to my surprise bit a piece of skin out of my arm and swallowed. The teacher sent me to the nurse who gave me a bandage. I went back to class and felt somewhat relieved after eating my skin. What was happening to me?

After school I raced home and locked myself into my room. I started screaming into my pillow; what the hell was going on with me? I could not possibly know; all that I knew was I craved human flesh. I traveled to the community center that was always empty during the spring. I saw a kid that was just a year younger than me, maybe sixteen, trying to break into the community center. He was perfect; no one knew where he was. I came up to him asked him for his screw driver and said “this is how it’s done” I took the screwdriver and started working over the lock, made it do a snapping noise and he was intrigued. He bent over closer to where I was working and I stabbed him in the eye. I break into the community center and start the oven in the room used for the cooking class my mother made me take. I start cutting pieces off him with my knife. I slice deeply taking all the delicious parts of his body. I began to cook the pieces of his body in the oven.

I heard police sirens outside, this was not uncommon but due to my circumstances it was troublesome. I look at the door to make sure it was locked. At that moment I realize the door had a silent alarm on it. I become petrified in fear. The police break down the door, I’m still cutting the body; an officer takes a shot. I look down; I’ve been hit. A recollection of the events in the last few weeks leading up to this event flashes before my eyes as my last minute on earth passes; and my body becomes lifeless.

By: Kylan Walker

I Can Prosper

It was a Friday night. Like always I was sitting on Facebook waiting for those comments like “Hey Butt face” or “You know nobody likes you right?” I would cry, but no tear will shed because I just felt too dismal for it and lay on the ground and lay there thinking about how my life is a living hell. I heard my mother scream down the kitchen and tell me that dinner was done. I got the strength to get up and walk down stairs as slow as possible. I took a step and sat in the chair closest to the kitchen, my dog which is one of the only things I care about aside from my mom. “So how was school today Hun?” My mom said but she must’ve known how it was. “Like always, I get shoved into the lockers and get threatened unless i give them my lunch money”. My mom looked at me surprisingly like it never happens, then she finished her dinner and went to her room to smoke cigarettes and text to escape all her problems, including me.

As an adult I still remember that terrible night when I went to the movies with my crush, Jimmy Thomas. Being gay is one of the reasons why I always got bullied, as well because of the way I dressed and how I loved my education. So anyway we went to see the new movie I forgot what it was called since it was so long ago. And some jocks were going to coming by. “Hey homos how are you doing today?” They laughed. I was infuriated so I decided today was the day to stand up to these jerks. “Hey is there something wrong with my sexuality, I don’t know what your problem is but were trying to enjoy our night why don’t you leave us alone”. Jimmy was shocked that I finally said something to those asses. “Why don’t you make us” then he took a big shove on me, I punched him in his face and his friends took me and threw me in the bushes. All I saw after being shoved was them taking Jimmy and left.

 The next day I found him by his locker trying to cover his face but I could see a bloody lip. “Hey are you o...” he stopped me and yelled, trying to embarrass us. “SHUT UP AND LEAVE ME ALONE” he ran away and hadn’t talked to me about it for a while, in fact he hasn’t talked to me in months, and then it happened. On a Monday morning I was walking through a hall near period history, I walked inside and felt weird because Jimmy wasn’t there. He had never been sick and I had never been in class before Jim. As I walked inside; a guy probably a senior ran past me and he looked like Nathan landrace, the kid who shoved me into the bush. Then I heard it on the microphone for the announcements, I thought it was going to tell us lunch today and stuff like that, but it was the principal that sounded serious; “Attention students of the school a boy named Jimmy Thomas was found on the floor about ten minutes ago, he is not breathing and hasn’t responded to the shock charges. He is presumed dead.

 I couldn’t believe it; the one out of the three people I actually liked has died. He almost felt forlorn, this incense pissed me off. After about a week after his death my mother told me the news that my dog had died. Then I went to live with my grandparents because about three months later my mom died of a cancer she never told me about. I was crushed that all three things I cared about had died. The rest of my high school years I never talked to anyone, nobody bullied me anymore but I still felt scared. After graduating college I became a police officer to build up courage, I made more friends and was a few months away from being sheriff and I started to have a terrific life.

Then it happened. I was looking on Facebook for new ad on how to help his foot odor when he discovered he had been messaged, Jared Nelson, a man who he had been most scared of as a kid. He messaged him saying “Hey I want to make up for how I treated you in middle school, meet me at the Chinese restaurant on Houston Street”. I decided to let bygones be bygones and visit him for lunch. I met him and he told me about his problems and how he was gay and came out of the closet to his dad, and how his dad left and he never saw him again. So I brought him into my house and offered him a drink. He accepted the drink and passed out asleep. So I sat there watching TV waiting for him to wake up, then I thought about how he used to shove me into the locker and took my lunch money. I was furious now so I walked into the kitchen and grabbed my butcher knife I use on thanksgiving. He awoke at the time I was cutting his legs off, I had already finished his arms he took so long to wake because the alcohol had numbed him, and he screamed so I ripped his jaw off and let him bleed out in the garbage can.

After that I started to kill more. Not just any people, I killed all the people who bullied me in school and I did the same thing every time, cut their arms and legs off and broke their jaws off and left them in trashcans, Except I now did it near different hotels every time. I remember what had happened when I was a boy and how my crush Jimmy had died, I didn’t know how and I couldn’t remember, so I visited the school met my old teachers and then I talked to the principal about the death and what happened in the video. The principal let me see the video for the first time and I saw something that changed my whole life and a sense of melancholy rushed through me when I saw him getting into a fight with the kid who ran past our class, Nathan landrace. I was so mad I stormed out of the room with a feeling to actually kill not because I want to, but because I have to. I looked him up on Facebook and messaged him saying we need to talk about middle school meet me near the McDonalds by the school, the one with the alleyway. We met there where he addressed me as “homo” I could see he matured (sarcasm). “A little birdy showed me the video of what happened that day at middle school when you killed Jimmy; I am pissed at you and I want to strangle you right now, But no… I will let you suffer”. Then non surprised Nathan pulled out a knife. I pulled a pistol and shot him in the knee four times; he lay on the floor and was screaming so I broke his jaw off immediately. I removed the arms and legs and then I felt happier in life. I lived on to be a folk hero among that towns people, and had a lovely husband, raised four kids and three dogs, and had a great and magnanimous life.

By: Ricky wilson

Roses Are Dead

It was a warm windy day I was inside watching TV. My parents and older brother Kevin were out shopping. It took unusually longer than normal for my parents to arrive home. When they got home they were soaking wet and they told me that there was a car accident and Kevin didn’t survive. After four years I saw my parents get killed by an intruder. After that I pushed myself to survive through high school and get a job. I didn’t kill anyone for a while; I don’t know what caused me to kill them. It just seemed to happen after a while. I was living at my house and one night, I stayed up late, and went out. I worked at a romance store that sells items to help with relationships. I unpacked the shipping deliveries so occasionally I could take an item without anyone being suspicious. This time I took a rose; to me it signified my name, for my last name is Rose. I took a heart necklace and broke it in to two pieces. I put one in each pocket.

After work I took a knife from my kitchen. It wasn’t the biggest knife, it was just the way the blade glimmered that attracted my attention. That night I went out and found a girl, she was alone; so beautiful. She had long silky blonde hair that gleamed in the moonlight; her dress fit her body oh so perfectly. I talked to her and went home with her. I caressed her body as she did with mine. As we began to undress a rush went through my body I grabbed the knife from my clothing and stabbed into her throat. The blood poured out, the crimson stream flowing down her body. I took the right half of the heart necklace from my right pocket. I left to my car and grabbed a rose; I carefully placed it symmetrically on her body. After that I went home, I cleaned the knife as best as I could. I couldn’t understand the feeling I had from taking someone’s life.

After a couple of weeks rolled by I had gathered up my knife again. I took a necklace and rose from work and placed each item in their rightful positions. After work I began driving around the town. I noticed a few girls but none seemed to catch my eye. Then I noticed a brunette girl. She was different, not so much as attractive but the way she dressed. The clothing she wore was so unique; the bright colors drew so much attention. I started a conversation with her and coaxed her to come with me. I drove her to a group of houses that were recently built and have not been lived in yet. I brought her inside one house and stabbed her neck. I placed the right side of the heart necklace in her neck, and cautiously placed the rose over her chest.

I never understood why I did it. I always felt so guilty after taking a life. I just seemed to do it. It was like a dark part of me that I could not control. As if something burned deep inside my soul. I killed two more women before I saw the news report of the Rose Bed Killer. After that I had left myself at home for a couple days feeling so guilty; but later forced the strength to get back to work. After all I just had to unload packages. I worked for a few more days then I saw her; she was so beautiful. I just had to meet her. I heard my brother’s voice saying “don’t do that” as I was aimlessly looking over at her, then a crate fell and I had escaped it just in time. I picked up the contents of the crate… strange; there was a heart necklace there. The necklace must have been misplaced. I took it and cleaned up the mess. I decided not to take a rose this time. Instead I went to a flower shop and bought a dozen roses. Tonight will be sleepless I thought. That night I took my knife placed the dozen roses in my car. Took a collection of heart necklaces I stashed away and drove off. The night was young; I coaxed a pair of girls into meeting with me. I killed them both and followed my process. Each motion was like clockwork. I killed eleven girls that night; I kept the twelfth heart necklace and rose and drove home. I pressed the rose in a plastic sheet. I needed something to remember the night by.

A few days later I went to work. After a few hours I saw some policemen questioning the store owner. He pointed at me; the police ran towards me. They took me in. What did I do? I thought. Then I remembered. I shouted “Oh god I killed them all!” the police began to drag me towards a cop car. At that moment I knew my life was over. I was taken in, questioned, but the questions made no sense. They asked “why did he kill them” I answered “I killed them because I wanted to” I had no idea what they were talking about. They locked me in a room and after a while I was placed here in this room. I was told to explain my story. “Why am I not in jail right now?”

A man walks out of the interviewing room. He walks over to the police and says “he’s apparently blocked his brother’s actions from his mind and viewed his life from partial points of view from his brother. It all started when his brother killed his parents and told him about it. He couldn’t comprehend what had happened so he had created an illusion of a life. When his brother killed he followed him; witnessing his murders he viewed them as his own.”

Written by: Kylan Walker

Concept by: Kylan Walker & Ricky Wilson

The Thing That Eats

It began in July of 1968; on a warm summer evening in rural Texas.  Mrs. Macready was sweeping the dust out of her house when she heard a scream. She runs over to find her daughter Betsy crying over her dead dog. Mrs. Macready said: “It was probably coyotes.” Betsy asked: “Why did it have to happen to spot? He was a good dog.” Mrs. Macready responded: “Sometimes bad things happen to good people, or animals.” She then asked Betsy to come inside and wash up for dinner.

The next day Mrs. Macready went into town. She met up with Mr. Jenkins the town’s prosperous farmer. She asked him if he’d been having trouble with coyotes recently. He responded with: “No ma’am I think this is something much larger then coyotes, some of my cattle has been killed off.” She said “Well what could it be?” Mr. Jenkins said “I don’t know, but whatever it is, it’s big. I’m going to be waiting in my field with a shotgun in case it shows up.” Mrs. Macready bought her groceries and headed back home. She got Betsy ready for bed and tried to dial out the telephone to reach her husband. The town’s phone lines were never very reliable when making out of town calls.

Mrs. Macready turns on the radio to listen to music. The announcer says “…And that was ‘tip toe thru’ the tulips with me’ by Tiny Tim at number seventeen on the popularity charts as of June 29^th. Now for a quick update on the weather. For the next few nights there will be a few meteor showers visible over some parts of Texas for the next few nights and the next few days are looking very clear. Now here’s ‘2,000 Light Years From Home’ by The Rolling Stones.” Mrs. Macready checks out the window, sure enough she could see those beautiful streaks of light in the sky. She goes to her room, sets out her clothes for the next day and goes to bed.

Mrs. Macready heads into town with Betsy, she looks for Mr. Jenkins who’s always there on Friday. And more importantly it was the first Friday of the month; he always delivered some form of food to the town market on the first Friday of every month. Mrs. Macready went over to the town’s grocer, Mark Gutenberg an immigrant from Germany during the Second World War. He moved here when he was young but despite that he still talked with a slight accent. He told Mrs. Macready that Mr. Jenkins had not shown up today. After a few hours of waiting Betsy was getting restless, she went off to play in the forest. Mrs. Macready thought it was okay because the creature seemed to only come out at night. She goes in the forest; after about half an hour she runs out screaming. Some of the town’s folk come running. Betsy points at the forest and then starts crying. Some of the men grab their rifles out of their trucks and head into the forest. There’s a dead cow, and bloody shoeprints heading off into the forest. The men follow them; they see old Mr. Jenkins Lake. It was completely empty. They notice that the blood tracks turn off around the lake and back into another part of the forest. The men follow them a ways until they find a pool of blood. One of the men notices a drip, and looks up. He looks frightened and stares, the other men look up and see Mr. Jenkins body mostly ripped up and hanging on a tree branch.

The men head back to town and get a bag to bring back the body, they tell the news to Mrs. Macready. She was a good friend of Mr. Jenkins and she was stunned with disbelief; but when they brought back the body she started crying. The men decided to call a town meeting at the rec center. One of them said “we need to find this creature and kill it.” A few others agreed, while yet a few others were afraid to find out what it was. The town members eventually decided to go after the creature; and a group of men began gathering weapons and flash lights. The men split up into groups of four and go out in the forest. Some bring their dogs and have them sniff the cow hoping they’ll track the creature down. The dogs pick up a scent and begin to run away in cowardice. The men don’t bother chasing the dogs; they’re just determined to kill this creature. One group heads off in the opposite direction the dogs had run. They travel a while and then stop. They hear a noise that sounds like something eating. They see a creature with bluish-green reptilian skin with patches of bonier looking skin bumps around the joints on the limbs. The creature had dark black eyes and a row of two inch spikes going along its spine. When the creature sees the people it raises its spikes the way a cat hunches its back before it pounces on a mouse. The creature takes a tremendous leap towards the people, slashes the throat of one of the men and bites the throat of another. One of them hides behind a tree as the creature pounces on the third guy and starts eating out of his stomach as he’s screaming for help. After the creature catches a scent of the other group it heads runs over there. The guy waits until he can’t hear the creature anymore and leaves. He runs towards the town, he hears screaming behind him. “There was nothing he could do” he told himself. He ran to the town and told the people what happened.

The men go after the creature with their hunting rifles. By this time it was almost daylight, the find the mangled bodies of their friends that went out before them. They follow the path the creature left in blood, and find it resting on a rock. One of the men takes a shot at it; the bullet shatters. The men look worried and run. The creature chases after them; two of the men make it to town just as the creature catches up to them and notices all the other people around. The creature begins massacring the townspeople. Mrs. Macready takes Betsy and hides in Mr. Jenkins storm cellar. She goes up into his house and locks the doors, she looks out the window. She looks at the tree line and notices a shadow moving over them. She thought it was strange because there were no clouds. She looks up and sees a giant metal saucer flying over the trees. It was heading for Mr. Jenkins’ lake. She notices the creature run toward it. She unlocks the front door and heads towards the ship leaving Betsy in the house. The ship lands at the dried up lake bed; and she sees the creature walk into an open ramp on the ship. She sees a group of black creatures that look like men stowing the creature away in a cage. After the ship flies off Mrs. Macready had no idea what to make of the events that happened that day. Six months later Mrs. Macready was institutionalized for delusions of an alien attack.

By: Kylan Walker