Kittens were always a reoccurring motif in my dreams. I guess, I just liked those four legged, furry little demons that much.

At times, it was former pets who came to visit me and allowed me to reminisce and sojourn in times long past. At others, it was nothing but random instances, small glimpses at cats sitting somewhere in whatever dream space I found myself in.

A couple of months ago, all that changed, and I began to have a certain reoccurring dream. In it, I found myself in a world populated by nothing but kittens. I’d hang out with them, play with them and even join them on their little adventures.

At first these dreams were vague, and I only remembered a few select details about what I came to call ‘Kitty Land,’ if that.

Before long, however, they became more vivid, and I found myself visiting the place almost every single night. It was a world comprising wide, lush meadows and colorful fairy forests. Even long after waking up, I could remember how soft the grass felt, the smells of the many flowers, but most of all, every little detail about the many kittens I encountered.

It was strange, unnatural even. Usually my dreams were gone the moment I awoke. Yet Kitty Land would linger on my mind for hours, the details as clear as if I was still there.

And yet, I didn’t mind, I really didn’t.

Instead, these dreams soon became the best part of my sorry life. I worked at a dull, dead-end job, my social life was non-existent, and I spent my evenings perpetually wasting away in front of the computer. I’d watch whatever was new on Netflix or YouTube, played games I’d played dozens of times before, or I’d stare at the screen half in thought about… nothing.

The dreams, however, they were cozy, exciting, but most of all they were the first real fun I’d had in… much too long.

Only a few weeks in, I didn’t merely enjoy them. No, I looked forward to them long before I went to bed. Soon enough, I’d find myself going to bed early, because I couldn’t wait to return to Kitty Land. There I’d be able to play with my little four-legged companions, could go on adventures and could embrace a world that was as bright and colorful as mine was dull and boring.

I knew, of course, deep down, that this wasn’t healthy, and I knew I was growing more and more obsessed with a world that wasn’t real.

Around this time, I began considering getting a kitten or two of my own, to satisfy what was clearly an unhealthy need for furry companionship. Yet I could never muster up the energy. Just thinking about adopting a cat, and all the steps it entailed, was overwhelming.

And so, I pushed it off, telling myself I’d do it, eventually. I wish I’d done it, I truly wish… maybe then I could’ve stopped what was about to happen.

Instead, I fell deeper into my obsession with Kitty Land, and would even lie to myself that there was no need for real kittens.

More and more times, I took naps as soon as I got off work, hoping to visit Kitty Land for an hour or two. On the weekends, I’d sometimes spend almost the entire day in bed, only getting up to eat and drink, doing nothing but dreaming.

All the while, however, I began to notice certain things.

Kitty Land was a bright and happy place, had always been, but slowly, ever so slowly, I noticed slight hints of a change. Whenever I awoke, it was with a strange feeling of apprehension and the image of dark clouds gathering and growing thicker in the distance. I was afraid that Kitty Land, my safe place, would change, and before I knew it, it did.

At first these changes were miniscule, and I’d only noticed them out of the corner of my dream self’s eye. Every once in a while, I would notice how the shadow of one of little companions would… change. It seemed to stretch on endlessly, turning into a warped thing, an abomination with too many legs and of a form indescribable. The worst, however, were those dark clouds, which were now clearly visible and slowly seemed to inch closer.

As the days went by, these changes would become more and more noticeable. The twisted shadows became more common, almost ubiquitous, and before long, they influenced my little friends. Like a strange illness or some sort of corruption, they’d seep into them, and began warping them, contorting them into the ghastly, stretched out versions of themselves.

More than once, I awoke sweaty and shaking, after having encountered some bloated, kitten-like monstrosity, or having found a kitten centipede coiling endlessly around my leg, restraining me and meowing at me furiously.

Eventually, these nightmares became too much for me, and after yet another one, this one during a nap in the late afternoon, I opted against sleeping, afraid of the horrors I’d encounter.

Instead, I set in front of my computer, downing cup after cup of coffee in an endless stream of thick, black liquid, trying to understand what was happening and why my mind had chosen so to distort Kitty Land.

Work the next day was nothing but a blur. Things were hazy, as if the real world itself had become nothing but a dream, hidden behind thick fog.

The moment I made it home, I wanted nothing more than to slip under my covers and rest, but the dreams, those terrible dreams… They’d be there waiting for me the moment I’d close my eyes, wouldn’t they?

As much as I tried to stay awake, however, I was fighting a losing battle. I was just so damned tired. Eventually exhaustion overtook me, and more than once, I almost fell asleep while still standing on my two legs. In the end, I just gave up, and collapsed on my bed.

For a moment, there was nothing but the usual darkness you see when you close your eyes. Then I was plunged right back into Kitty Land.

By then, it was nothing like the happy place it had once been. The fairy forest had been replaced by an overgrown, spider-web covered thicket comprising gigantic, gnarled trees and mutated plants. What had once been wide, lush meadows had turned into barren plains and rotten swamp land. All of it populated by nothing but fur-covered monstrosities.

I’d barely realized where I was, barely understood I was dreaming when the first of these creatures noticed me.

An overgrown, bloated kitten skittered towards me on a multitude of overly-long, stretched out legs, hissing and clawing in anticipation. I dashed away, but I was slow, so slow, and after only a few moments, it reached me. In a furry, I tore the thing off my body, and crushed it below my feet only for a multitude of similarly disfigured creatures to burst from its bloated belly.

It was only the first of many such creatures that came for me, and before long, I found myself chased by a kaleidoscopic assortment of furred abominations.

It didn’t matter where I went, didn’t matter where I ran. They were already waiting for me. What had once been a lovely tree house had turned into a rotten wooden castle; a breeding ground for winged, cat-like creatures. The swamps were populated by tentacled cats, which started at me from the murky depths below with wide, almost endearing eyes before they tried to drag me away.

These things, these once-cats, drove me on relentlessly on their never-ending hunt.

I realized, however, this wasn’t so much a hunt, but a drive, and I realized where I was driven to: the center of the dark clouds that had engulfed Kitty Land.

Yet what could I do? What could I do but run on and on and on as they drove me deeper and deeper into the thick fog and strange vapors that spread out below the clouds?

The moment I reached its center, however, it all stopped. The creatures were gone, almost as if they’d never existed. Instead, I found myself in front of a mound, a gigantic mound.

At first I thought it was a mountain, but then I saw it move, move in unison.

What I saw in front of me was a gigantic mound comprising nothing but cats. It was an amalgamation of furred bodies, entangled and grown together; thousands upon thousands of cats, all forming a single feline abomination.

The moment the creature noticed my presence, it welcomed me with a purr. It was a purr so strong, so heavy and deep it shook the entire mound and the surrounding land, throwing me off my feet.

I could do nothing, couldn’t get up, as wave after wave of thundering purrs shook the ground, could only watch as a multitude of elongated cat-appendages came for me. They embraced me, coiled around my limbs and pulled me closer towards the abominable mound of cat.

I was lifted, brought closer and closer to its summit, and watched in stunned horror as fur and flesh were torn apart. Huge gushes spread out all over the mound. From them, darkish blood and yellowish puss pumped outward in never-ending, thick torrents. It was like watching a volcanic eruption, and yet, all the while, something was moving, pushing outward, like a sick mockery of a birth.

And finally, something emerged from the depths of the cat mound. It was nothing but the heads of cats, disgustingly warped heads like caricatures, comprising nothing but fused together mouths that all opened in unison. A single line, filled with an endless row of sharp teeth and licked by a never-ending number of cat-tongues. Above it all, there were no noses, no ears, no fur, but only… eyes, thousands upon thousands of cat eyes, millions of them even.

A second later, all those eyes focused on me and me alone, penetrating me with a stare that seemed to reach deep inside my very being.

I screamed, I cursed, I struggled, but couldn’t get free. I watched as the abomination’s whiskers moved, reached out, before they entangled me like spidery tendrils. Then they plunged into me, into my mind, my consciousness, my memories. I felt them tearing through them, distorting them and… devouring them.

In this moment, a dream-like understanding came over me. This dream, Kitty Land, it must’ve been nothing but a lure, a lure to trust, to come back, too long, to sink deeper and deeper into it, until I was close enough for this abomination to reach me.

When I finally awoke from the dream, almost an entire day had passed. Yet I didn’t feel rested. No, I was filled with terror, felt weak, exhausted, and more tired than ever before.

Only a few hours later, I drifted off again, and the endless chase played out once more before I finally found myself in the grasps of this feline goddess yet again.

For the past week, this was my entire existence. However much I tried, however much I fought, I could only aver stay awake for a few hours before I inevitably drifted off again. After each of these ghastly nightmares, I felt a little less like myself and each time I felt more tired.

I don’t know what to do anymore, I don’t know if there’s anything I even can do.

Coffee doesn’t help, neither do energy drinks, nor any of the less reputable substances I could get my hand on.

By now, I can barely stay awake long enough to eat and drink, or to even type this out.

I know it won’t be long now before I’ll stay in the nightmarish world that I once called Kitty Land forever.

It won’t be long before every last part of my mind, my consciousness, and my entire self becomes devoured by the disgusting abomination that is the feline goddess.

Andrew had always been a free spirit. He was the type who worked here and there to scrape by, but had no real aspirations to do, well, anything.

When he told me he’d joined a meditation retreat outside of town, it was only fitting for him, and seemed to be the most recent in a long series of misadventures.

What made it worse was that whenever we hung out, he’d go on and on about it, and more than once, suggested I’d tag along, at least for a few days.

To be honest work was getting to me. I work in finance and I’m earning good money, damned good money, but it felt like I never had the time to do anything with it.

The last time we sat together, I couldn’t help but lament about it.

“You know, bro, it’s all that number stuff that’s getting to you,” he said, taking another drag from his joint. “Why don’t you take a break for once? You’re always welcome at the retreat.”

There it was again. I sighed, but ignored his invitation.

And yet, as he sat there, leaning back in his chair, high as a kite, I couldn’t help but be jealous. Whenever I saw him, Andrew always seemed to be just… living.

For a while longer we sat together, merely chit-chatting, before I had to call it a day. I knew I had to get up early, and I knew I had another long day ahead of me.

In the afternoon, my phone vibrated, and I saw I’d just received a message from Andrew.

I sighed, knowing fairly well that he’d most likely just gotten up. When I read his message, he told me he was on his way back to his new home of choice. He’d also attached a few pictures of the place.

As I looked through them, I had to admit the place looked awesome. It comprised a complex of beautiful, East Asian style buildings, nestled between a gentle forest.

Andrew had told me the place had been constructed to the north of our city. In one picture I saw a lush forest, in another a gentle mountain spring and the final one revealed a breathtaking view from atop a small mountain.

I lowered the phone and my eyes wandered over the interior of my spacious office. The first word that came to my mind was gray. Gray walls, a gray desk and a gray computer. The monitor in front of me filled with rows upon rows of endless transaction data and customer IDs.

I rubbed my temples. He was right. I really needed a vacation.

The moment I was out of the office, as so many times, late in the evening, I called him and said I’d be willing to check the place out.

Andrew was more than happy to hear and told me he’d figure everything out.

A couple of weeks later, after a long discussion with my boss, he reluctantly signed me off on this brief vacation of mine.

The next day, in the early evening, Andrew arrived at my door.

I’d expected him to arrive in his usual sloppy attire, but when I saw him, I couldn’t help but look up. He was dressed in some weird garments. They were entirely white. The only thing of color I could see on his body was a strange necklace sprouting a purplish-blue stone, and an armband adorned with similar stones.

He even greeted me with a ceremonial bow, and at that, I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Holy shit, what happened to you? Why are you so formal?”

For a second, Andrew said nothing and I could see a hint of annoyance wash over his face before he switched back to his usual character.

“Well, that’s our traditional clothing at the retreat. I know you think this is all just some hippie type of thing, but we’re actually rather serious about it.”

I shrugged when he said this, but I had to admit, it seemed at least he was taking this thing serious.

As we drove through the city and eventually the forest, Andrew shared a few of the ins-and-outs of the place with me.

He described the various meditation sessions and breathing exercises, the daily routine, and even how cleaning the place was all a part of training, or better, cleaning the mind.

At first, I listened, but he rambled on about it in an almost over-excited way, and eventually, I just zoned out.

When we finally arrived, I had to admit the place looked as stunning as it had in the pictures. Hell, even more so.

At the same time, however, I couldn’t help but be weirded out. Everyone here was wearing the same garments Andrew was wearing, and they were all behaving in the same, overly formal and ceremonial way he had.

For a moment, I wondered if this place wasn’t just some meditation retreat, but one of those weird cults I’d heard about in the past. Then I shook my head. Andrew was a free spirit who was into all sorts of weird shit, but I knew he was way too smart to fall for any sort of cult.

Yet, all this talk about cleaning… Andrew was my brother, and I loved him dearly, but for all his life, he’d done nothing unless he was forced to. Now it sounded almost as if he was… enjoying it.

I slowly got out of the car and followed him, half expecting to be subjected to some sort of strange brainwashing. Instead, another member who introduced himself as Jeremy walked up to us. He greeted both of us with another little bow. Andrew and he exchanged a few words before Andrew excused himself. Then Jeremy turned to me.

“You must be Steven. Nice to have you,” he said, welcoming me with an outstretched hand.

I took it and gave him a well-meaning nod, but couldn’t help but look around a bit to see if anyone else was watching our little interaction.

“I know how this place must seem to outsiders, but I hope you give it a try,” he said with a little laugh.

“Yeah, I mean, the place looks great and all, but to be honest, I’m only here because of Andrew. I’m not sure if, well, any of this is for me, you know?”

“Of course. Doubts are natural. But let’s get you settled in first.”

“Sure, let me get a hold of my things.”

With that, Jeremy led me to my lodgings. As he did, he assured me that the place wasn’t a cult. It was all about new experiences and self-exploration. While participation was mandatory to a certain degree, I was free to leave whenever I wanted to.

“Your brother told me you’re a rather practical person. IT, wasn’t it?”

“Finance,” I corrected him.

“Either way, I’m sure there’s much to learn here, even for someone like you. For all of us, essentially. There’s so much more to life, so much more to see and to experience.”

“Let me guess, you’re talking about drugs?” I asked, giving him a grin.

Jeremy couldn’t help but laugh, but then he shook his head.

“Now, certain substances can indeed help you reach a higher state of mind, and I’d lie if I hadn’t taken some of them. But not here, not at this place.”

After he gave me a quick run-down of our daily routine, and reminding me that our day started at six in the morning, he eventually left me to my own devices. As he did, I couldn’t help but stare after the man.

Who the hell was he kidding? I mean, Andrew was here, by his own free volition. This place had to be about drugs.

Yet, I had to admit, it was beautiful. So I told myself I’d at least make the best of it, and to stay clear of any weird shit, whatever it might be.

After I’d settled in, and after I saw how late it was, I decided to have an early night, and to see what awaited me.

Suddenly, I found myself wide awake in bed. One look at my phone told me it was still the middle of the night.

As I wondered why I’d woken up, I made out something from outside. It were strange sounds that reached me from the room’s cracked window.

Still half-sleep, I made my way over to see what was going on. At first I didn’t know what I was hearing, but after I’d listened in more closely, I recognized the sounds as distant voices. My eyes wandered over the complex outside, but I saw no one. The only thing I could make out were lights in the distant, far away, deep in the forest.

As I watched and listened on, I couldn’t help but wonder what was going on out there. The distant voices became louder, changing to sounds of jubilation, and the lights began to flicker and waver. I knew what Jeremy had said, but even from here, I couldn’t help but be unsettled about what was going on out there.

Fuck, what had I gotten myself into? Even though I’d closed the window, I lay in bed for the next hour, the memory of the strange jubilation sounds still playing on in my head.

When it was finally morning, I was awoken by a set of soft knocks against the door, and a gentle voice telling me that breakfast would be served in twenty minutes. I yawned, cursed, and stared at my phone. It wasn’t even six yet. For a moment, I fell back on my bed, and considered to just go back to sleep. Shit, I was supposed to be on vacation, wasn’t I?

Then, I pushed myself back up, and after freshening up, I looked at the white garments that had been prepared for me. For a second, I told myself ‘fuck it,’ and was about to just go in my normal clothes. Then I sighed. I’d promised Andrew I’d give this place a try. Yet when I saw myself in the mirror, I couldn’t help but shake my head. I looked ridiculous.

Finally, I made my way to the main hall.

After going to bed early, I was starving and couldn’t wait to have some scrambled eggs and juice bacon. Yet, my hopes were crushed when I saw the entire breakfast was plant-based. An assortment of fruits, nuts, and vegetables were propped up on a table in the center of the main hall.

I stared at it all with a deep frown before I eventually put a few pieces on my plate and took a seat at the end of the long table.

After I’d forced down some it, and finished a cup of strangely spicy tea, Andrew joined me and led me to my very first meditation session.

I tried to give it a shot. I really did, but after only ten minutes, I was pretty sure this meditation stuff just wasn’t for me. Even worse, since I’d been woken up in the middle of the night, I was still tired as hell. While our guide rambled on about energy levels and spirit animals, I had to fight to stay awake.

The rest of the day continued similarly. We did an exercise in gratitude, had a sort of self-discovery walk around the forest, partook in an entirely plant-based lunch and started to afternoon with another meditation session. Then it was time for chores, namely, we had to clean the place.

I couldn’t believe this shit. For the past decade, I’d worked myself half to death to make it to junior manager and now, here I was, scrubbing the floor. Even worse, Andrew next to me was smiling the entire time, and seemed to enjoy it.

“What the hell’s happened to you? I’ve never seen you do anything with such enthusiasm. Back at home, you never did jack shit and now…”

“It’s all part of the process. You know, it’s a way of learning to value hard work and the persistence to stick to a routine. Back in the day, it was actually common for monks-“

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” I cut him off, mumbling.

I really wasn’t in the mood for more of his ramblings.

For another fifteen minutes, I continued on. Then, while I was scrubbing a particularly persistent spot on the floor, I felt myself growing angry. This was it. This was fucking bullshit!

With that, I got up and left. I knew Andrew was staring after me, judging me, but I didn’t give a shit.

This entire thing was one colossal mistake. None of this bullshit here was for me. Hell, I couldn’t tell what type of people this shit was even for.

I should’ve never listened to Andrew and instead should’ve booked myself a nice vacation in the Caribbean. I could lay at a beach and sip cocktails, instead…

As I went back to my room, I noticed more than one person staring at me. I was even approached by one of the meditation guides, who spoke up to me about participating in all the steps of the program. Instead of saying anything, I just pushed myself past the man.

Once in my room, I just sat there on the bed, staring outside.

Then I let myself fall onto it, took out my phone and tried to call a taxi to get the hell out of here. I cursed when I saw I had no reception out here, none.

For a while longer, I just lay there, wondering what I should do. Would Andrew even drive me back to the city? Maybe I should just pack up and walk?

Eventually, my head heavy with thought, I just dozed off.

It was in the early evening that Andrew woke me by knocking at the door. When he asked me if he could come inside, I mumbled a ‘yes.’

“What are you doing?” he asked once he’d stepped inside.

“You know, I don’t think this works out for me, so how about-“

“Alright, listen. You said you wanted to try this, but you’re not even giving it a chance. This is your first day, your first fucking day. I’ve watched you, and you are all negative. You’re fucking things up, not just for yourself, but for everyone else. Did you ever think about that?”

“What the hell?” I snapped at him, getting up. “You’re the one who basically forced me to come here! You pestered me about this place for fucking weeks, months even! I said I’d try, and I tried, alright? But this… this is all just bullshit!”

As I said this, Andrew stepped up to me and, for a second, I thought he’d hit me. Instead, he put his hand on my shoulder and I watched as his mouth changed into a grin.

“You know, I’m not supposed to tell you, but you’ve got no clue what this place is really about.”

“The hell’s that even supposed to mean?”

“The real deal, bro. You’ve only been here for a day. You’ve got no clue what we do here at night, when we tap into our true potential and experience true enlightenment unlike anything-“

“I knew this was about drugs,” I cut him off, rolling my eyes.

His reaction was the same as Jeremy’s and he shook his head the moment the word ‘drugs’ had left my mouth.

“No, that’s not what it’s about. But I can’t tell you right away. First, you have to prove yourself, to show you’re ready to learn and accept new experiences.”

“Oh, come on, fuck off with that shit.”

“Please, Steven, just do it, okay? Just give it an honest try. I promise you won’t regret it.”

I stared at him. This was the first time I’d ever seen him this serious.

“Everything else,” he continued in a half-whisper, “all the stuff we do during the day, it’s all just that… stuff. Or like you said, bullshit.”

“What? I thought you enjoyed all this meditation and cleaning?”

“Look bro, I can handle it, that’s all. But knowing what else there is, what else we do, that makes it all worthwhile.”

“Sure,” I mubmled

“One week,“ he suddenly said.

“What?”

“Go through all this shit for one week, and this entire trip will have been worth it.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” I cursed.

I was about to tell him I was out, but once more, I saw how serious he was. Eventually, I just sighed and nodded.

And so, for the next couple of days, I took part in all their stupid activities.

Before long, I figured out that my spirit animal was a bear, whatever that’s supposed to mean.

While I still didn’t like the food all that much, I got used to it and even enjoyed the occasional piece.

The biggest surprise was meditation. During the first couple of days, I usually dozed off, but with each day, it seemed to get easier. On day six, I actually felt grounded, relaxed, and for the first time in what must’ve been years, my mind was entirely free of numbers and customer IDs.

On day seven, once our evening meditation was over, Andrew told me he’d come to get me shortly before midnight.

“It’s time, brother,” he greeted me when he finally returned.

Having dozed off, it took me a moment to realize what was going on.

“What is? Oh, I’m… shit man. I know what you said, but promise me, this won’t be some weird drug orgy or something like that.”

“No, it’s going to be different, entirely different. Just come along.”

For a moment, I wasn’t sure, but then I reminded myself that I’d gone through an entire week to experience whatever they did here at night. So eventually, I nodded, and the two of us set out.

Andrew led me around the complex, first past the main hall and then to a hidden path that led us out into the forest.

As we made our way through the trees, the entire forest seemed to be alive, its sounds almost ubiquitous. I heard the rustling of insects, the chirping of birds, and I felt as if I were connected to it, part of it. At the same time, I could make out hushed whispers ahead of us, those of other people.

Andrew was silent as he led me on. When I asked him where we were going, he quickly told me to be quiet. His voice was low, yet firm, his face serious.

It took us more than ten minutes before we reached our destination, a small hill in the center of a clearing. A small sort of temple had been constructed here, a simple one. It was nothing but a small roof under which a huge, ornate fire brazier had been placed.

All around us people had gathered, all of which I’d gotten to know throughout the past days. They were still wearing the same white garments, but were now adorned in necklaces and armbands similar to those Andrew wore.

When I got closer, I saw the small roof couldn’t really be called that. Its center was wide open, allowing the brazier’s flames and smoke to escape and rise high into the sky.

This here, it had to be what I’d noticed during my first day. The voices had been those of the people here. The light must’ve come from the brazier’s fire. Yet as I thought back to that very first night, what I’d see had seemed different, and I couldn’t help but be wary of what was to come.

“Brother, you’re finally here,” someone called out, and I watched as everyone turned toward Andrew.

“I have indeed. Is everyone present?”

Nods could be seen all around.

“Then, shall we begin?” Andrew asked, his eyes wandering over the assembled figures.

“We shall. Please enlighten us, brother. Please help us see!” a man called out in an almost euphoric voice.

As he said this, I heard murmurs all around, and all eyes were glued to Andrew.

When I turned to him, he gave me nothing but a little smile before he approached the brazier.

I couldn’t help but stare after him. The way everyone acted, the way he spoke. Did it mean that Andrew was in charge of all this?

Before I could so much as ask, everyone but me and Andrew fell to their knees, closed their eyes and began to chant melodically.

For a moment, Andrew joined in with them, before his eyes came to rest on me again.

“Now everyone, this is a grand night, for tonight, we welcome a new member to our group. My very own biological brother, the man you’ve all gotten to know throughout this week. He’s joined us here to partake in enlightenment.”

Instantly, I found myself at the center of attention, as all eyes came to rest on me, almost as if people had only noticed me now. A few moments later, two members of the gathering got to their feet and began adorning me with a necklace and bracelets of my own. Too confused about what was going on, I just let it happen.

“Now then, it is time!” Andrew called out.

His voice had risen to an almost-half scream and echoed over the entire clearing.

I watched as his hand vanished under his garments, only to return, holding something glowing in it.

A moment later, he opened it, revealing some sort of powder.

“Help us see, O Satyania,” he called out, his eyes focused on it.

Then he threw the powder into the brazier. Instantly, the flames roared up, growing taller and more intense. I watched as their colors changed; what was orange and red before now turned into a deep blue and purple.

Everyone stared at it, and still on their knees began chanting anew. All the while, the flames grew higher and higher, stretching upwards through the temples roof and turning into a pillar of flame.

I just stood there, watching what was happening in sheer disbelief. What the hell was with this fire? How could it behave like this? Was this some sort of illusion?

Andrew just stood there, still next to the brazier, head held up high, arms stretched out, throwing more and more of the strange powder into the flames and repeating the word Satyania again and again. Then he began to muse on, rambled on about the truth and the essence of things, of the fundamentality of all knowledge.

By now, the brazier’s heavy smoke had gathered around Andrew and began wafting over the people closest to him.

They inhaled it deeply and instantly, their faces changed. Their eyes grew wide and their mouths turned into ghastly smiles as their entire expression was warped into one of euphoric bliss. I watched as they greedily inhaled more of the strange vapors, filling their lungs with it.

I cringed back, and covered my mouth, careful not to inhale any of the strange vapors.

And then, Andrew called out, no screamed as loud as he could in a language I’d never heard before. It was unlike anything I’d ever heard, something that didn’t seem to comprise words, but only strange melodic sounds, otherworldly sounds.

A prayer, I suddenly thought. It sounded like a prayer, a jubilation. Slowly, ever so slowly, all the members of the gathering joined in with him, faces pressed to the ground, hands raised high into the air.

I could only stare at the surreal spectacle in front of me. This was madness, insanity. Still covering my mouth, I stumbled back, away from the brazier, from the temple and from whatever was going on here.

A moment later, Andrew’s head jerked towards me, and his eyes focused on me and me alone, eyes that were now aglow with the flame’s bluish-purple tint. They were wide and angry, and I felt myself stopping, almost powerless under his scrutinizing glare.

I watched his jaw work, watched his mouth fall open. When he spoke again, his voice was hard, inhumane, filled with almost unbridled rage.

“How dare you disturb this holy ritual! How dare you refuse to participate and risk angering the messenger!”

Instantly, the chanting stopped and all members of the insane gathering rose from their prostrate positions. Their faces were distorted, looked like that of wild beasts, of addicts who’d been denied their newest fix.

I screamed at my body to move, to get away, but I didn’t seem in control, seemed to be held in place by Andrew’s eyes.

“No,” I started, when some members of the gathering closed in on me, ready to drag me back. “Get away from me!”

“You. Will. Participate. Brother!” Andrew’s voice thundered.

Before anyone could reach me, however, the fire intensified, and in an explosion of glaring heat, the flames burst apart. I was thrown to the ground, and I watched in a mixture of fascinated disbelief and utter terror as they spread over the sky.

It seemed the night sky itself was burned away. The well-known vanished as the sky was laid open, torn apart to reveal something entirely different.

I could do nothing but stare upward, couldn’t even blink. What I saw now were twirling stars, and mad, sparkling galaxies unlike anything I’d ever seen before. They seemed closer, were closer, so close it seemed I could touch them if I were to reach out.

Then I felt a presence, a presence lurking behind it all. It was stirring, staring back at this place, at the flames, the gathering, and… at me.

I cringed back, tore my eyes from the impossibility I saw above, but I knew, I felt, something was coming. Something was using the pillar of flames to reach out to us.

In front of me, Andrew opened his arms wide, as if to embrace what was coming.

Then his body changed. What had been a human being was first elongated before it turned into something different. I watched as Andrew grew thinner than thicker before his form was warped into something alien. I saw limbs sprout from it, limbs and other things, too many things.

Finally, his form didn’t seem able to contain itself, and it burst open. I watched as it changed into one of the mad, sparkling galaxies itself, into an otherworldly blanket of stars. Further and further it spread out, washed over the temple, the people and drenched it all in wild sparkling colors as if devouring it, removing it from this realm.

In sheer and utter terror, I threw myself back to escape the otherworldly surge of stars and colors, stumbled to my feet and dashed away into the forest.

With the ever-extending blanket of stars behind me and the mad, sparkling galaxies above, I ran through the forest. I was out of it, had no destination in mind, couldn’t think of anything but to get away. I screamed at myself to keep going, to keep running.

My heart beat heavy in my chest, my breath came in ragged bursts, and finally my vision grew blurry. Then my legs gave way, and a second later, darkness descended upon me.

---

I was awoken by one of the meditation guides who found me passed out in the forest.

The moment I opened my eyes and saw his face, I scrambled away from him. Then, slowly, as I gathered my bearings, I realized everything was back to normal. The sky above was of a normal blue, the surrounding trees were shaken slightly by a gentle breeze. No hint of the otherworldly blanket of stars or the mad, sparkling galaxies remained.

When the man enquired if everything was alright and what had happened, I rambled on, but then closed my mouth again. Eventually, as my panic abated, I just shook my head. I told him I’d been out during the night, on a little self-discovery trip, and must’ve fallen asleep out here.

The man nodded and helped me to my feet before he led me to the main hall to have some breakfast. Yet I could’ve sworn I saw the slightest hint of a knowing smile on his face.

When I entered the main hall, everything was normal. No one looked up when I entered. None of the people who’d been at the gathering last night seemed to care about me. They acted as if nothing had happened at all.

Yet as I sat there, trying to make sense of what I’d seen last night, as my eyes wandered around, I noticed things I’d never noticed before.

I saw people’s empty stares, faces that were filled with nothing but a slightly blissful expression. These people, I realized, they weren’t really here.

As I looked towards the fruits and vegetables prepared for us in at the hall’s center, I thought I could make out a slightly bluish-purple glow, one that reminded me of the strange powder Andrew had called Satyania.

Then I jerked up. Andrew! Oh god, what had happened to him? What had he become? In my mind’s eye, the terrible transformation played out again. His body warped and changed, burst apart and-

“Good morning, brother,” I suddenly heard his voice from right beside me.

I jerked around and found he’d taken a seat right next to me.

I could do nothing but stare at him, unable to say a single word. He looked exactly the same, his garments were exactly the same. And yet, for the first time, I noticed how different he seemed, how much he’d changed ever since he’d joined this place. There was an aura to him, a strange, otherworldly aura.

When he spoke, his voice was his, but at the same time, his words seemed to echo, as if something was speaking with him, or… through him.

“It takes time, brother,” he started, placing his hand on my shoulder. “The first time you witness a visit, it’s scary, always. You’ll get used to it, eventually.”

“What the hell happened out there? What happened to you? I mean, how are you here and-“

“You’ll learn in time,” he cut me off, “but only if you’re willing to.”

With that, he got up, and I watched as he made his way to his morning meditation.

For a few seconds, I stared after him before I jumped to my feet and rushed from the room.

By now, I’ve packed my belongings, ready to get out of this place. It doesn’t matter if I have to walk back all by myself. This place is wrong! These people are wrong! Whatever’s going on here is nothing but pure and utter insanity!

And yet, I’m still sitting here. Even though I know I should leave, I’m still sitting here.

There’s something in the back of my mind. As the visions from last night return to me again and again, there’s more than just terror. There’s a strange sense of curiosity, of want, to learn and to witness it again.

My brother’s words reverberated through my mind.

“You’ll learn in time, but only if you’re willing to.”

Yes, brother, I want to learn, I want to experience it again and I want to see what lays hidden below that otherworldly blanket of stars.

Oh, to be born with talent; it can be a blessing, but it can also be a curse.

There is, of course, the weight of expectations resting upon your feeble shoulders, the constant need for perfection. Yet there are other reasons, reasons I want to share with you, my dear reader, as a confession, if you will.

I was born in abject poverty, in the shanties surrounding a sparkling city comprising ivory towers of stained steel and polished glass.

My parents were quick to recognize my talent. I could scarcely walk, they said, when I showed an affinity for the fine arts, an eye for color and forms, and used my delicate hands to capture life and bind it to the canvas.

They did what little they could to nurture my talents, as did my teachers. I was soon hailed a genius, one in a generation, a God-given child born under the luckiest of stars, and long before I was of age, my works attracted the attention of those who deemed themselves connoisseurs of the fine arts.

I was showered with endless praise, and paid lavish sums to paint one thing, and one thing alone, the thing I excelled at the most: portraits.

Over the years, I worked feverishly, driven on, almost unconsciously, to perfect my craft. While others spent their adolescence in play, I studied color theory, scene composition, light, and perspective. Brushes, paints, oils, they became a part of me, an extension of me. Yet all these were mere tools, merely instruments of a craft I was far from perfecting.

Deep down, I knew I was missing something, and that I needed more to reach my art’s distant pinnacle.

For in my portraits I set out to not only capture a person’s likeness, to capture not merely who, but also what they are, their very essence; to create something more real than reality itself.

To accomplish this, I dedicated long years to the study of other fields: philosophy, psychology, anthropology and even anatomy.

Did you know, my dear reader, that the human face comprises fort-three muscles, all of which are needed to form a frown, but only seventeen to form a smile?

Yet a smile, I realized, is so much more than the contraction of muscles. It is influenced by a myriad of other factors. Genetics, of course, but also oral hygiene, the size and form of the jaw, the width of cheekbones, the color and structure of one’s teeth, but more than anything, a person’s character, their mentality and their feelings.

Every part of a human’s face and every part of a human’s mind come together to create a smile.

I lived a hermit’s life, secluded myself from society, and locked in my study. I analyzed the interplay of all these factors, the effect they have upon one another, all to bring forth the most perfect of smiles.

The works following these years of contemplation, those showcasing this perfect smile, are not found in any gallery or exhibition. For they are valued as treasures of unprecedented nature, sold only to the highest bidder whose vanity forces them to hide them away from any and all prying eyes.

Before long, my works comprised solely of commissions from the most elitist of circles who sought me out to bind a perfect representation of themselves to the canvas.

Yet unbeknownst to me, and unbeknownst to my patrons, my works began having a certain effect. You see, my dear reader, they comprised a perfect smile, a perfect version of a human face, an expression that wasn’t real, could never be. For it was a version of their face which would only have been possible if they’d grown up under perfect circumstances. An impossibility of its very own.

At first, my works were celebrated, awed over and praised, but slowly, ever so slowly, this would change. I learned they plunged people into a state of inadequacy, making them feel imperfect, depressed even for they knew what could’ve been yet never was. They’d realize the perfect temple their bodies might have been had become flawed, ruined.

Many of my patrons had chosen money and power over health and beauty. These decisions, either made by themselves or forced upon them, would spawn resentment, resentment of the vilest kind for both themselves and others: parents, friends, lovers and even their children.

These tragedies, however, only ever played out years after a work’s completion, and were, I thought, entirely unrelated to them.

Yet as I heard and recognized more and more of my patrons’ names, as I learned of the tragedies that befell them and the ghastly deeds they committed, I realized it was my art and nothing but my art, my perfection which was the cause.

For my talent, my craft, dear reader, it’s a curse, a curse upon those who partake in it. And yet, over the years, I’d painted feverishly, as if delirious, creating hundreds if not thousands of people’s portraits, not knowing I’d doomed them all.

After this realization, I retreated from society once again, cast myself out and tried to abandon my art. Yet wherever I went, I was still sought, implored to paint again, begged to create one last piece, and to make them the final testament to my art. And I did. I painted that very last, final portrait, and then a month or even a week later, I’d paint another.

I knew what I was doing, I knew, yet I ask you, my dear reader, how can you, as an artist, abandon that which you spent a lifetime honing? How can you stop and deny yourself that which you perfected?!

Yesterday, another man sought me out, an entrepreneur of the wealthiest nature, offering me a grand sum to use my art to capture his daughter’s likeness, a girl no older than seventeen.

I did just that. Without question, without slightest hesitation, and I told them, as I’d told many others, that hers would be my final piece.

I spent hours upon hours meticulously capturing a perfect likeness of her, one more beautiful than she was, and would ever be, knowing fair well that this work, this portrait was destined to destroy her.

Yet as I did, as I sat there, feverishly working, I felt something I’d never felt before; it was a recognition of the strangest kind. For my hand, and the brush it held, was moving by an accord of its very own, driven over the canvas by something not of me.

And I realized then that talent is truly a curse, and that I’ve been cursed from the moment I was born.

You see, my dear reader, as much as I want to stop, as much as I tell myself I hate what I’m doing, that it is wrong, there’s a voice that whispers to me. This very voice tells me that deep down, I am enjoying it, all of it. Not just the art, the craft, but the doom, the darkness the beauty I create brings forth.

It tells me, this voice, that in the most hidden, most secret part of my soul, I’m loving it.

And over the years, over all my life, it teased me, spurred me on, celebrated what I did and told me it was the right thing to do. It influenced me, tainted me with its words, convinced me and eventually took over, making me nothing but an extra in the grand game of life.

It reminded me of my childhood, of poverty, of parents’ untimely death brought forth by terrible working condition, a suffrage cast upon them by men only out to fill their own pockets. Men who’d eventually become my patrons, who’d made their money of people like my parents and used it to have me bind their likeness to canvas, a testament to their own vanity.

And deep down, the voice told me I wanted nothing more than to create these horribly beautiful paintings, these curses. Oh, how I enjoyed them, it cackled on, and it was only fair to enjoy them.

Eventually, I was done, finished with this newest, final portrait. As I listened to their praises, that of the pretty young girl and her father, I felt them again, those invisible fingers as they stretched and warped my mouth into a smile, and listened as the voice whispered to me of coming doom and an end to their lineage.

At that moment, it terrified me. It terrified me so much, my dear reader, I couldn’t speak; what I’d become, what this voice, this being had made me, what it had set out to make me from the moment I was born.

I paid my leave soon after, ran and hid in the confines of my study. There I screamed at the voice to leave me alone, knowing fairly well it never would. For it is the voice of talent itself, the demon called talent, which hails from the pits and bound itself to my very being.

It’s a mocking, ghastly thing, an impish monstrosity that celebrates what I did today, and tells me, tries to convince me to paint another, and another, and yet another, to create an endless series of curses against the bourgeoisie of the world, against those fat with money, who gorge themselves on all they see as lesser creatures.

Yet I knew, for the first time in two decades, I knew the girl’s portrait wouldn’t be my last.

I set myself free. The lie was gone, dispelled, and I gave into the demon’s pleading and paint, paint without restraint.

The work I promptly set out to do, however, is not what it wants of me, for this portrait is going to be of a different nature, and it is going to be my true final piece of work.

As I sat down, as I began to work, I once more painted a person for who and what they truly are. There’s no beauty here, for there’s no beauty to be found in that person. Yet it is perfect, a perfect showcasing of a ghastly, twisted and spiteful man, a twisted broken thing with not a brush but an instrument of murder in its hand.

It differs, this work, for I set out to capture nothing but reality, to reveal the true nature of unrivaled talent, to bind this horrible demon’s nature to the canvas. I paint it as its hand rests on the murderous instrument, paint its impish face grinning from right behind my shoulder, and paint it as it breathes down my neck.

It’s a disgusting creature, one who drove me on endlessly throughout the years, to accomplish what I did, and thus unleashed its curse upon the world.

Even now, it still whispers, it still spurs me on, celebrates me as I paint.

Yet I can’t help but smile, smile by my own volition, because for the very first time its voice sounds hollow, its giggles containing a hit of fear, a hint of doubt, for it has long realized that this will indeed be my very last work.

I have to leave you now, my dear reader. I leave you and end this confession as I soon end my very last portrait, as well as my life.

For the rope is already fastened around my neck, a rope to end it all, and to drive this demon back, this demon called talent, to drive it back to where it belongs:

The deepest, darkest corners of hell.

I met her during my first time at a club. It was quite the strange experience. I’d never been out dancing before, had never even gotten drunk and didn’t know the first thing about drugs.

You see, I grew up in an extremely religious household; church every Sunday, praying before every meal, all of it.

I didn’t mind these things so much. What I did mind was her constant talk about sins, temptation, the devil and going to hell. I heard it pretty much every day, and at least once a week, she’d promised me I’d be going to hell for… something. I absolutely hated it and it was what drove me to become interested in paganism, and in witches.

It was only natural that when I finally moved on to college, I’d major in religious studies with a focus on paganism.

College was a revelation for me. For the first time, I got away from home, away from mom’s obsession with Christ, and I could figure out who I really was and wanted to be. But also, to try out a few things I’d never dared before.

I loved the college lifestyle. My fellow students were all so different from the people I grew up around. Alcohol, drugs, and alternative lifestyles were big amongst them. Yet as much as I pride myself about trying new things and going wild, I didn’t. While I hated mom’s talk about sin, I was, deep inside, a mousy little thing, shy and reclusive, reluctant to try anything new.

It was my friend Emily who eventually convinced me to tag along when she went to one of her favorite clubs. It was a back alley scene club; the type frequented by the weirder and more alternative parts of the population.

It would be an understatement to say I felt like I didn’t belong there.

After we’d entered, Emily was quick to order us each a beer and, before she promptly vanished to ‘mingle,’ as she called it, and I was left to my own devices.

For the next hour, I just stood at the edge of the dance floor, half-heartedly drinking my beer and watching people. The air was heavy with the smell of sweat and alcohol and the loud booming music reverberated painfully inside my head.

After a while, I noticed a guy eying me. He gave me a drunken smile before he awkwardly danced in front of me. I sighed. He’d probably noticed my bored, dejected look, and was hoping for an ‘easy’ win.

I rolled my eyes and tried my best to ignore his advances, hoping he’d give up soon enough.

When that didn’t work, I fled to a different floor. For some reason, however, he kept following me. Regardless of where I went, he soon found me and lingered nearby.

It was Melinda who saved me.

I’d just settled down on a couch in one of the club’s quieter areas, the smoking area, as I should soon find out. After only a minute, the same creepy guys stumbled in as well.

Before he could approach me, however, a woman set down next to me.

She was absolutely gorgeous. For a second, all my memories of and the feelings I’d had for a girl during high school, resurfaced, and my heart skipped a beat. Yet I could tell right away that this woman was so much more than she could’ve ever been.

Her outfit was simplistic, almost too much so, nothing but a tank top and shorts, but it fit her perfectly. She had cropped blond hair with a few darker strands mixed into it. Her most stunning feature, however, were her eyes. They were bright green, and seemed to focus on me and me alone, almost as if she was staring into me.

“You new here? Haven’t seen you around?” she half-whispered at me, giving me a coy little smile.

Instead of answering, I just stared at her. When I realized what I was doing, I quickly looked away, took a big sip of beer, and then focused on the creepy guy again. He was sitting on a couch nearby, pretending to mind his own business, but I noticed his short, side-way glances.

The woman next to me turned in his direction as well.

“Just ignore him. He’ll give up soon enough.”

Just as she said this, the guy suddenly got off and walked away.

“See? It’s just that easy. I’m Melinda, by the way.”

“Oh, my name is, I mean, I’m Claire. Nice to meet you,” I brought out, stumbling over my words.

Melinda giggled. Then she reached into her purse, brought out a pack of cigarettes, lit one and leaned back. After two pulls, she held the cigarette out for me.

I wasn’t a smoker, had never even touched a cigarette, but still took it, almost unconsciously. I started coughing right away.

Laughing, Melinda took it back.

For the next minute, I just sat there, next to her, entranced by her, and watched as she exhaled cloud after cloud of bluish-grey smoke.

Once she’d finished her cigarette, she got up, but handed me another one.

“Just so you don’t forget me. See you later, little Claire.”

With that, she went on her way back to wherever she’d come from.

I was left sitting there, cigarette in hand, staring after her.

For long minutes, I tried to make sense of the encounter and the many conflicting feelings inside of me.

Eventually, a clearly drunk Emily found me again.

“I didn’t know you smoked, Claire,” she said.

“I don’t. Oh, this? Yeah, no it’s… never mind,” I said, shaking my head before I carefully put the cigarette into my purse.

We were at the club for another hour. While Emily was dancing and having fun, my eyes wandered around, looking for Melinda. Yet she seemed to have vanished.

For the next few days, I couldn’t get her out of my head. I don’t know what it was, but there was something special about Melinda. The way she carried herself, her confidence, but also other, smaller things I’d noticed about her. Around her wrist, she’d worn a small, pearly armband, and I’d also noticed the purple healing stone fastened to her necklace. It made me wonder if she might be interested in the same things I was.

I was back at the club a week later. This time, on my own.

For long minutes, I walked from floor to floor, desperately trying to find her, but there was no hint of her.

Frustrated, I went back to the smoking area and found myself an empty seat. There I sat, brooding, and eventually pulled out the cigarette Melinda had handed me a week ago. As my thoughts drifted away, I absentmindedly rolled it between my fingers, playing with it.

“Need a light?”

In surprise, I dropped the cigarette. When I turned around, I saw Melinda. Somehow, without even noticing, she’d found me and sat down right next to me.

“So, you’re smoking now?”

“No. Well, I guess?” I said, giving her a little shrug.

Then I picked up the cigarette and held it out for her to light. Of course, I coughed again, but somehow, with each pull, and with Melinda next to me, it seemed to get easier.

That night, we started talking, and that night I got to know her.

As I’d thought, Melinda shared many of my interests. Yet the way she went about them was much more intense. She was much more intense.

While I read books on pagan rituals, collected healing stones, and made my own witchy jewelry and accessories, she’d gone much deeper.

She talked about rituals, too, but the ones she herself had performed. She’d go on about real magic, real witches, different planes and places, places, she said, where magic originated from.

Talking to her was nothing short of enthralling, almost intoxicating. Eventually, as night turned to early morning, we exchanged phone numbers, and, a moment later, Melinda was gone again.

We ended up texting all throughout the week. Melinda told me more about the things she’d done, recommended me books, but also shared a few niche blogs on astral projection I might be interested in.

Yet there was one thing she was steadfast about. If I truly wanted to learn, to become enlightened, as she put it, I’d have to do the real thing.

When I asked her if she was talking about some sort of ritual, all I got was a little emoticon. Then, a few seconds later, she added a simple ‘You’ll find out on Saturday. Same place, same time?’

That’s just how she was, always a tad bit mysterious, but I’d have to lie if I didn’t like it. Before I knew it, I’d already sent her a yes.

When Saturday evening arrived, I headed for the club right away. This time, I didn’t waste any time looking for her, but headed straight for the smoking area.

Melinda was already there, waiting for me. She sat on a couch in the back, staring at me with her bright, green eyes and bidding me to join her.

“So, the real deal? What is it? You want us to do some sort of weird dance ritual?” I asked, laughing a little.

“Oh no, little Claire, it’s something much, much better.”

With that, her hand vanished inside her purse, and then, careful to hide it from the other people in the smoking area, produced a small Ziploc bag containing a strangely growing powder.

For a moment, I just stared at it, not understanding. When my brain functioned again, I realized what she was holding.

“Wait. No way, Melinda, that stuff… I can’t.”

“There’s a first for everything,” Melinda said in a sing-song voice, giving me another one of her seductive smiles.

For the first time, her smile didn’t work on me.

“No, really. This,” I said, holding up the cigarette I was smoking, “sure, but not that.”

I grew angry, furious even. Was this the reason she’d talked to me? Was all this a ploy to get me hooked on some sort of weird designer drug?

In my anger, I was about to get up, but felt Melinda’s hand close around my wrist.

“Oh, but don’t you want to learn more? This stuff here, this Oneiria, is the way to go, the way to learn, little Claire.”

I was still angry with her, but then I thought about mom, about my life until now. Wasn’t Melinda right? Wasn’t I here to experience new things, to learn and to get enlightened? The smallest of smiles came over my face. Yes, I was, and I was here to sin, to do all the things my mom had warned me about, and told me I’d go to hell for.

When Melinda saw that small smile, she pulled me in close and kissed me.

The moment our lips made contact, all the apprehension and all my doubts evaporated. I was obsessed with this woman. When our lips parted, I gave her a nod and said I was ready to try, if only this once.

The moment I took Oneiria, as she’d called it, the world changed.

All the colors around me intensified, as if the world’s saturation had been turned up a few notches. The same was true for my feelings. For the first time, I could truly feel the world around me, could feel every part of my body, and, of course, I could feel Melinda.

Almost in a trance, I let her take my hand and lead me to the dance floor.

My eyes wandered around; the world seemed so, so different. Everything around me was moving faster, then slower again. Motions and people became blurs, washing into each other.

Then I focused on Melinda again. She was in front of me, her arms around me. I could feel the warmth of her emotions radiate from her and wash over me in heavy waves. It felt like I was a part of her and her a part of me.

At one point, we made out right there, on the dance floor. It was the most intense thing I’d ever felt in my entire life.

The longer I danced with Melinda, our hands grasping each other, our lips touching, the more the world changed. I saw things I’d never seen before. People were glowing brightly, their energy wafting through the air, intermingling and mixing into a kaleidoscope of living colors.

And then, for whatever reason, my eyes wandered upwards.

The club’s ceiling was gone. Twirling stars, and mad, sparkling galaxies unlike anything I’d ever seen before replaced it.

It was nothing short of magical, and as I moved my hand through the air, the stars above responded to my every motion.

Then my trance-like fascination was interrupted by a moment of clarity. I instantly cringed back from the surreal sight above me, averted my eyes, and tried to feel from the dance floor.

Yet I was held in place. When I stared at Melinda, she, too, had changed. By now, she was nothing but bright light and pure, intense feeling. I felt her holding me in place, surrounding me, engulfing me.

“This is what you were looking for all along, little Claire, this is it,” her sing-song voice reverberated inside my mind.

A second later, I drifted off.

When I awoke, I was in bed. For a moment, I shivered when I remembered what had happened.

Suddenly, I realized I was naked, grew confused when I realized I wasn’t in my dorm room.

Then Melinda entered the room, similarly naked.

“Melinda?” I brought out. “What happened? What did we…?”

Her answer was nothing but a smile, but one that told me more than enough.

Once I’d calmed down, I spoke again.

“What was that last night?”

“Oneiria,” Melinda answered, matter-of-factly. “It allows you to see. Not only what’s out there, but also what you desire, the magic you always dreamed of.”

After that night, it didn’t take long for me to get hooked. I’d told myself repeatedly to not give into it, that I’d just do it once more. Yet Oneiria had this strange fascination to it.

It differed from any other drug I’d heard about. You weren’t just getting high, it allowed you to visit certain different places. Every time the two of us indulged in Oneiria, I saw the same mad, sparkling galaxies, but also a world in which magic was real.

Eventually, I learned I wasn’t the only person Melinda had introduced Oneiria to. When I first heard this, I felt betrayed, and a pang of jealousy shot through my entire body. I almost left, never to talk to her again. Yet Melinda assured me I was special. I was the one, the only one she loved. All those others, they were friends, acquaintances, people of mutual interest. I was different.

What can I say? I believed her. And so, a few days later, I joined her during her next meeting with her little witches’ circle, who all indulged in Oneiria.

Every time I did it, however, the drug’s effect became stronger. It was barely noticeable, but noticeable nonetheless. The visions I saw intensified, and each time, I caught more glimpses of this other world. It was a place where not only magic was real, but witches, paganism, and magical creatures as well.

It was a place, I eventually learned, where even I had power, actual power, and could command the magic I so longed for. No longer was I mousy little Claire, but what I’d always wanted to be: a witch, an actual witch.

Yet as much as I loved the place, and as much as I loved Melinda, something about it felt wrong. That place, it felt too different and too far away, too detached.

At the same time, however, whenever I was there, I felt this pull, a pull from somewhere beyond that pulled me in just a tad bit closer.

Eventually, I realized, deep inside, I didn’t really want this. I didn’t want to get any closer. What I wanted was to feel magic, to command it, sure, but not in some otherworldly, drug-infused dreamscape. I’d wanted to do it here, to bring just a bit of magic into my boring secluded life. If I couldn’t even do that, then all of this was meaningless, might as well not have been real.

No, as much as I was pulled in, as much as I wanted more of it, I didn’t want to leave the real world behind, at least not just yet.

About a week ago, things took a turn for the worse.

Once again, our little circle met up, and once again, we readied ourselves for another round of Oneiria-infused scrying. That night, however, we, or rather they, went further than ever before.

While they all indulged in Oneiria, I sat there, holding the tiny Ziploc bag in hand, merely staring at it. I could feel the pull, watched as my fingers unconsciously opened the bag, my brain getting ready to indulge again. Then, I struggled against it. At first it was nothing but a half-hearted attempt, an afterthought, but soon it rose in power. As I did, I felt Melinda’s eyes on me, and somehow, this was enough to break free. The Ziploc bag dropped from my hand and I leaned back, thinking I’d finally broken free.

Yet as I sank back into my seat, I saw the ceiling above me opening up, vanishing, before the mad, sparkling galaxies replaced it. Then, we were all pulled in closer, towards the world of magic we’d visited so many times before.

But I hadn’t taken the drug. So how was this possible? How was I able to see what I’d thought of as nothing but Oneiria-infused hallucinations, tricks of the mind? Did it mean that all of it, all the visions, all the things I’d seen were… real?

Anxious, in confused terror, I turned toward Melinda, only to see she’d changed. What had once been a woman with cropped blond hair and bright green eyes was now a glimmering witch made of nothing but stars, a twisted space nebula.

She seemed to extend, to spread out, growing bigger, wider, an all-encompassing shroud of stars, fire and magic that washed over us.

But then, once she’d filled out the entire room, she opened up, and for the first time, I could see it clearly: the twisted, magical wonderland.

It was right there, right in front of me, so close, I could almost touch it. I saw energy wafting through the air like colorful clouds, saw magical creatures and fantastical beings.

Yet the place was all wrong. Its physics made no sense. It was upside down, but was not; it was circular but spread out and even. I saw mountains growing from the skies, mad galaxies that seemed far away but right there. Behind it all, I saw beings as massive as stars, unfathomable things reaching out, ever reaching out, further and further.

Instantly, I drew back, averted my eyes, and started screaming in sheer and utter terror. These screams were drowned out by those of the other members of the group. Theirs, however, were screams of joy. Soon, a cacophony of barely human jubilation echoed through the room, through the entire building, as they all threw themselves into the dreamscape ahead.

For a moment, I could see them running into one another, becoming one being before they were torn apart again.

Still screaming, I scrambled away and retreated to the farthest corner of the room. There I sat, shivering and shaking, my eyes closed and my hands pressed over my ears.

I stayed like this for what felt like an eternity.

Finally, I felt a hand touching my face. I jerked up, cringed away, but saw it was Melinda.

“It’s okay now, little Claire. It’s over.”

“W-what the hell was that?”

“I guess it wasn’t for you. Maybe not yet, maybe never.”

“What?”

“I showed it to you, little Claire, a place where you can be yourself, where you’ll find what you’ve been looking for.

“But that place… I don’t want it. Not like that.”

When I said this, Melinda’s eyes turned sad and a moment later, she got up.

“That’s it then,” she eventually said, her voice as sad as her eyes.

“Wait, what do you mean?”

“I was only here to help, little Claire, to show, not to force.”

“No, but I love you. I love us, and I want to-“

“Do you really? Or were you just looking for someone to enlighten you, to show you just how much more there’s out there?”

“No! I mean… I don’t know. I don’t freaking know, all right?!”

At that moment, Melinda came closer. Once more, she put her lips on mine. I savored that kiss more than any other we’d shared before.

When our lips parted, I could see the same mad, sparkling galaxies in her eyes and could feel her body surrounding me. It felt as if she was more magic than a real person.

My eyes grew wide, and I went forward to touch, to indulge in her, but Melinda stopped me.

“See? You didn’t want me, didn’t want Melinda, but those feelings, the magic of that other place.”

“But… it’s gone now, isn’t it?”

“You can find it again, the Oneiria, the magic, all of it.”

“What about you?”

“Me? What do you think I am?”

“You are…”

As much as I tried, I couldn’t answer her question.

“Nothing but a dream,” Melinda whispered into my ear.

A moment later, she was gone, leaving me alone in the empty room.

It’s been days since then. Even now, I can’t make sense of what happened. Neither can I make sense of who, or what, Melinda truly was.

Yet at night, I often dream of that place, a place where magic is real. It’s a place where I am truly a witch. Sometimes, out of the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of her, of a woman with cropped blond hair, and bright green eyes who’s boding me forward to join her.

Whenever I awake from those dreams, I’m filled with the utmost fear, but a fear that’s different from that of any other nightmares.

For as much as I oppose it, as much as I don’t want to go, I long for it with every fiber of my being.

I know that eventually, I will go back to those back alley scene clubs, those frequented by the weirder, more alternative parts of the population.

And one day, regardless if I want to or not, I know I will indulge in it again, indulge in Oneiria.

I don’t remember when it started. I first noticed it a few weeks ago when I went to the grocery store. There were so many cats around.

Seeing cats isn’t uncommon in a rural town such as mine. Many people owned cats, and there are quite a few strays around.

It’s just that you never really noticed them unless you looked. Most cats are rather shy with strangers. You’d occasionally see a stray walking down the street or sleeping on someone’s porch, but that was about it.

That day, during my five-minute walk to the grocery story, I saw at least ten of them. They were sitting on the sidewalks, playing with each other, and even approaching people.

Don’t get me wrong, I love cats. I just wondered where they’d all come from. They were also extremely friendly. They’d walk up to you, meowing and rubbing against your leg, desperate to be petted. I almost tripped multiple when one of them couldn’t stop sneaking around my legs. I petted the little guy for a bit, and thinking he was satisfied, continued on.

When I got home, Simba, my four-year-old tabby, noticed it right away. The moment he smelled the stray on me, he hissed at me before he booked it and hid under the bed for the rest of the day.

Simba’s special. He’s extremely skittish, easily scared, doesn’t like people, and, as I learned that day, doesn’t seem to like other cats either. I love the little guy to death, but our relationship’s more that of roommates sharing the same apartment.

What he loved the most was to sit outside on the balcony, watching birds, people, and even the occasional stray. Yet, in case he’d get a bit too excited, I installed a cat safety net. There was no telling what would happen if he’d ever skip out on me.

He, too, had noticed the influx of strays in the area, and I’d often find him watching them with watchful eyes. Every once in a while, he’d even hiss at those who dared to come closer.

I guess they made him a little restless. He became even more skittish during these weeks, and he’d often hide under the bed or other secret places around the apartment.

This morning, to my surprise, I found him outside on the balcony. I was a little confused because I didn’t remember letting him outside.

The moment he saw me, he began meowing, desperate to be let back inside. Shit, I remembered. I went for a smoke before I headed to bed. He probably snuck outside, and I accidentally locked him out all night.

“Hey, I’m sorry, little dude. I didn’t know you were outside.”

He answered my apology with a hearty meow and began rubbing against my leg, purring loudly.

“What happened to you? Are you that happy to be back inside?” I said, laughing, and to my surprise, he let me pet him.

After I’d fed him and prepared myself some coffee, he joined me at the computer. For a few minutes, he sat by my side, watching me before he jumped on my lap, making no indications of ever move again.

I was more than surprised. As I said, Simba doesn’t like people, and while he tolerated me, he’d never jumped on my lap before.

“Guess you like me after all, do you?”

While I was reading the news and drinking my coffee, I couldn’t help but wonder where this change came from.

“Is it because of all those strays outside? Are you scared of them, little dude? Don’t worry, they won’t be able to get in.”

For the next couple of hours, he happily slept on my lap while I worked.

As I absent-mindedly petted him, I suddenly noticed something. It was a sort of bump on his back. When my fingers went over it a second time, I could’ve sworn I felt something squirm below his skin. In an instant, I pulled my hand back.

By now, he’d woken up and was staring at me.

“Hey, what have you got there? Are you hurt?”

I checked his back right away, going over it again and again, but found no hint of the bump. Eventually, I gave up, and reasoned it might have been some sort of muscle spasm during sleep.

Before long, morning turned to afternoon, and eventually early evening.

When I saw it was already seven, I cursed. The damned grocery store would close in about an hour, and I still needed to get some food.

In a careful, but swift motion, I put down a protesting Simba and put on my shoes and jacket. Then I opened the balcony door, asking if he wanted to go outside and keep watch over the neighborhood like he usually did. Yet he just sat there, not moving, staring at me.

“Hey, what’s up? Don’t you want to go outside? Are you still scared of those strays?”

For another few seconds, he continued staring at me before he slowly made his way toward the balcony door, vanishing outside. I closed it behind him, so the apartment wouldn’t cool down, and went on my merry way.

The moment I opened the apartment building’s door, one of the many strays greeted me. It was an orange tabby who now called the area around our apartment complex his home.

I gently shoed the cat away so I could step outside and noticed three others watching me from the bushes nearby.

“Sorry, I can’t play with you guys. I’ve got to go to the store.”

With that, I set out down the street. I noticed just how many cats there were by now. It wasn’t just a few, it had to be dozens. They were everywhere: out in the streets, on the sidewalks and in front of people’s homes.

My eyes wandered around before they came to rest on a cat further down the road. It was an orange tabby. When the cat heard my approaching footsteps and turned to face me, I looked up.

I saw the crooked tail and the scratch mark on his little nose. It was the same cat who’d greeted me at the door. How’d he gotten here so quickly?

Well, cats are fast, I thought, and I’m not exactly a fast walker myself.

“You’re a quick one, aren’t you?” I said, as it began rubbing against my leg.

“Yeah, I know you want to play, but I can’t, sorry.”

For a moment, the cat stopped and began meowing in protest, almost as it had understood my words.

Then it just sat down in front of me, staring at me. For a second, I couldn’t help but be weirded out.

I stepped past him and continued on. Yet I couldn’t help but feel watched and when I turned around, he was still there, unmoving except for his eyes, which trailed after me.

Freaking cats. Why’d they have to be so weird?

I soon arrived at the store. In the evening, it was always packed. It seemed I wasn’t the only one who waited till the last minute to get his shopping done.

Today, however, the atmosphere felt different. At first, I couldn’t say what it was, but then I realized it. Some of the other customers were strangely friendly. They were beaming as they wandered through the aisles, wishing other shoppers a good evening, or even striking up a conversation. Now, there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s just a bit weird, especially at closing time.

Eventually, I shrugged it off, paid for my food, and left.

Outside, I could already see an assortment of strays and a bunch of kids playing with them.

Once more, I couldn’t help but wonder where all those cats had come from. In my head, I tried to think of a plausible scenario, but nothing made sense.

I counted them. At least a dozen were hanging around the store, but there were so many more out in the streets. It seemed there was even more now than when I’d entered the store a mere ten minutes ago.

For a moment, I watched the group of kids, and saw that they were playing with an orange tabby. It had the same crooked tail and the same scratch mark on his nose. Guess it had finally found someone to play with.

As I walked from the store, however, I saw it again, this time crossing the street ahead of me.

My steps slowed down. How the hell was that cat moving so quickly?

I turned around to look over my shoulder. The kids were still there, still playing with a cat, with an orange tabby.

A shiver went down my spine. Then I told myself my eyes had to be playing tricks on me. Hell, maybe it’s just two cats who look really similar. With so many around, it was possible.

And yet, I felt my steps speeding up as almost unconsciously hurried home. When I reached the building, my eyes grew wide.

“How in the hell had he gotten out?” I cursed to myself.

There he was, Simba, outside, on the ground, scanning the area.

“Dammit, the freaking net must’ve a hole, or one of those damned strays tore it apart.”

For a moment, I opened my mouth to call out to him, but then closed it again. Simba was way too skittish and way too easily scared. There was no telling what he’d do if I’d just call out to him.

Instead, I carefully approached him, hoping to scoop him up and bring him back home.

Yet he started to move and began making his way alongside the building. I watched as he checked out the neighboring balconies one by one, and wondered if he’d jump onto one of them, but no.

Eventually, he snuck around the building’s corner and down an old staircase. It led towards the basement where the maintenance area and boiler room were located.

I quickly followed him, hoping to catch him at the bottom of the stairs

When I reached them, however, there was no hint of Simba. Instead, I found the door slightly ajar.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, you little dummy,” I cursed.

This was a worst-case scenario. I’d heard way too many horror stories about cats getting trapped in basements or garages and starving to death.

I pushed open the door, expecting to find a maintenance worker fixing some sort of problem, but was greeted with nothing but gaping darkness.

But then why was the damned door even open?

From afar, I could hear something dripping onto the floor, most likely a leaking pipe. Maybe one of my neighbors had noticed a problem, checked out the basement and hadn’t closed the door. Good going, idiot!

I put down my backpack and pushed it against the door so I wouldn’t get trapped myself. When I hit the light switch, nothing happened. Cursing, I activated my phone’s flashlight and set out to find my cat.

The moment I stepped inside, I noticed how moist the air was. Even the walls were wet with condensation and further ahead I could see puddles on the floor. Yep, a leak, I thought to myself.

“Hey, Simba, little dude, where are you?” I whispered in a quiet, friendly voice.

I tip-toed on, scanning the ground, careful not to scare him.

“Come on, let’s get out of here.”

Nothing. Not a hint of the cat. I cursed inwardly. Where the hell are you? Don’t tell me he crawled behind some pips or under the boilers. God, you stupid cat!

Darting my phone around, I illuminated an old shelf, then an assortment of pipes, but I still couldn’t find him.

When the beam hit one puddle, I saw that the water was strangely reddish. For a moment, I stared at it. It had to be rust, considering the age of the building.

Once again, I called out for the cat, but all I heard was the same quiet sound. By now, however, my ears had adjusted. It sounded almost like something was moving or squishing around in the water on the floor.

It was coming from the boiler ahead of me, or rather, from something that was behind it. I saw that the strange reddish water almost flooded the back of the room. When I stepped into it, however, I noticed it was too thick, almost syrupy. In disgust, I pulled my foot back.

Then I froze. Was this… blood? Shit! The open door, the broken light switch. Don’t tell me some maintenance worker had gone down here and had hurt himself, hurt himself badly, given the amount of blood. What if he was bleeding out right over there?

In an instant, I rushed forward, stepped past the boiler, and illuminated the area in front of me.

Everything was covered in blood, and right in the center was Simba, sitting in front of something.

At first I really thought it was a body, a torn apart human body, but it was too big for that.

It was nothing but flesh, a giant heap or blob of flesh stuck to the wall. I opened my mouth to tell Simba to get the hell away from whatever this was, but then…

The thing began moving, heaving, almost as if it was breathing. All the while, it pumped out more of the blood that covered the floor.

My eyes grew wide, not understanding what I was seeing.

When I looked at Simba again, I saw how strange he looked. His body was all wrong, deformed, almost as if he’d melted. It began convulsing, shaking, and I saw something squirm inside of him. Then a disgusting fleshy tentacle burst from his back and slithered toward the disgusting blob.

In a trance, I watched as it probed the blob, and then, finding an orifice, contacted it.

The blob in front of him moved again, shook, but this time I saw where the movement was coming from. It wasn’t the blob itself, it was something inside of it. I saw bodies, tiny bodies. I could make out skinless heads, legs and tails. It was cats, skinless, half-formed cats.

Simba’s body was almost a puddle by now. At that moment, two of the things inside the blob began clawing their way outward.

“What the fuck?” escaped my mouth.

Right away, the two skinless creatures in front of me started hissing and meowing at me.

Finally, the trance was broken. I screamed in terror, cringed back, but after only a few steps, I stumbled over my feet and crashed to the floor.

The phone clattered away, its flashlight illuminating the ceiling above me.

There was another one of these things, another fleshy blob stuck to the ceiling. This one, however, was much, much bigger. It, too, was moving, similarly heaving and stretching. And inside of it, there were other things, things that twitch, trying to make their way outside. But they were so much bigger than cats.

For a second, I couldn’t move, could only stare at the surreal sight above me in stunned horror.

Then, the blob burst open and another of the tentacles slithered outward. No, not just outward, toward me.

In an instant, I was back on my feet, then at the door and finally outside.

I was back inside my apartment mere moments later.

I was shaking and out of it. What the fuck had I just seen? This couldn’t be real, this couldn’t-

I saw something moving out of the corner of my eye. Something was staring at me, and when I darted around, I saw glowing eyes from inside my wardrobe.

With a scream, and ready to beat whatever was in there, I tore it open.

I didn’t understand what I was seeing. Right there, huddled under a stack of clothing, was Simba.

“How the hell are you here? You were just outside, so…”

My voice trailed off when the smell hit me. He’d soiled himself.

Yet he made no intention of moving. Instead, he just stared at me with wide, anxious eyes, trying to push himself deeper under the clothes. Slowly, ever so slowly, afraid to see his body contort and change, I reached out my hand. At first, he hissed at me, but then he began smelling my fingers as usual.

I didn’t understand. If he was here, then the one I’d followed must’ve been a… fake?

I thought about all those strays, about the orange tabby, and what I’d just seen inside those disgusting blob-like things. Oh dear god, don’t tell me all those strays…

With weak legs, I stumbled towards my balcony to check just how many of the things were out there.

The moment I pulled aside the curtain, however, I found myself face to face with Simba.

I jerked around, but saw he was still inside the wardrobe, still hidden under my clothes, his eyes trained on the imposter outside.

Another one, it was another fake Simba.

“You… Get the fuck away!” I screamed at the thing through the balcony door.

Yet it didn’t leave. Instead, it approached the door, pushing itself against it, letting out a meow as if to beg me to let him come inside.

At that moment, I realized it. This thing had been with me all day. It had been the one sitting on my lap while Simba was hiding inside the wardrobe. The trick had worked. Its fucking trick had worked!

Suddenly, I grew angry, and in an instant, I tore open the balcony door to stomp whatever this thing was.

When my foot came down hard on its body, it burst open and I saw an assortment of disgusting tentacles slithered out from it. Right away, they reached out for my shoe, trying to get a hold of it.

Screaming, I stomped on the thing again and again. Finally, when I thought it was dead, when it was nothing but a disgusting puddle of reddish goo, I slumped to the ground.

Yet, it wasn’t over. I cringed back when the thing started moving again, pulled itself together and slithered towards the corner of the balcony. There it melted away through a small gap between the balcony railing and the wall. It washed outside before it reformed itself into a cat and dashed away.

For a long moment, I just sat there, utterly confused and half-laughing.

Then my eyes wandered over the area in front of the building. I could see them, the cats. They were everywhere, all staring at me. No, watching me.

I was back inside a moment later.

Something was going on, something bad. I had to tell people, had to get help.

The police, I decided. I reached into my pocket to pull out my phone, but found it empty. I cursed. When I’d fallen down in that damned basement, I’d lost it! It was still down there! Fuck!

The station then. I’d go to the station and tell them what I’d seen. They’d know what to do, or they’d call someone who did.

The moment I left my apartment, however, my neighbor’s door opened.

He was a grumpy old man, the type who’d scoff and yell at everyone. A textbook asshole, so to speak.

When I saw him now, however, he was beaming.

“Well hello there, neighbor. How are you doing this evening?”

I just stared at him.

“I… the police because there’s…”

My voice trailed off when he reached out and put his hand on my shoulder.

“Now, now, young man, just tell me what’s going on. I’m sure there’s no need to bother the police.”

“No, I mean, yes, there is! There are things below the…”

Once more, I couldn’t continue. I felt it again. The same strange feeling I’d felt when I’d petted the imposter cat’s back. Something was moving, or better, squirming, below the skin of his hand.

In an instant, I shook it off and cringed back.

“Get the fuck away from me!” I screamed at him.

His friendly expression, however, didn’t waver.

“My, if it isn’t Mr. Schneider,” a voice reached us.

It was another one of my neighbors, an older lady from upstairs. Her face, too, was extremely friendly, and her mouth was twisted into a disgustingly sweet smile.

She slowly came closer, positioning herself in the center of the hallway that led to the entrance door.

“Not going to let me leave, are you?” I spat at them.

I was about to chance it, to just dart past her, but then I heard more footsteps, and saw more people coming down the stairs. They, too, were beaming.

Right at that moment, my neighbor reached out for me again, trying to get a hold of me.

In an instant, I darted back into my apartment and locked the door.

One glance through the spyglass told me they were all still outside, just standing in front of my door.

“Are you sure you’re all right? Do you need help?” one of them spoke up.

I retreated back to the living room. This couldn’t be real. It was just the cats, wasn’t it?

That thing on the ceiling, though. It had been so much bigger, and so had the things inside of it.

I remembered all those smiling, overly friendly people at the grocery store. Oh dear god…

How long has this been going on? How many people have been replaced by now?

I can still hear them outside. They are still calling for me in their friendly, jolly voices, but there’s more of them now.

But I won’t give up and just wait till they come to get me. No, I’m going to take my chances. If I can’t leave via the front door, I’ll try the balcony. People have to know what’s going on here. People have to be warned.

There’s one thing, however, one thing I know. These things aren’t like animals. They aren’t merely driven by instinct.

There’s a method to this madness, a plan. The cats were only the first step, a way to get close to us and to get us to let our guard down.

No, these things are smart, and this is an invasion.

“Don’t do drugs, kid, unless you want to have some fun.”

That’s the first thing my wife Janet ever said me, giving me a wink. She promptly swallowed a little pill, and without another word, held one out for me. I made a dismissive gesture and off she went, back to the dance floor.

It was at one of those hidden little back alley scene club, the type frequented by the weirder or more alternative parts of the population. You know the type: free spirits, esoterics, soul searchers, musicians, artists.

I could tell right away that the other patrons comprised a group of tightly knit regulars.

Somehow, though, I’d caught Janet’s attention and after only half an hour, she was back by my side.

We ended up talking for hours that night.

I guess it’s because of how different we were and how I clearly didn’t belong in her world. I’m a mathematician, a number cruncher so to speak, and work in controlling. Janet, on the other hand, was a free spirit, a painter, and always willing to explore new and interesting things, including substances.

Somehow, though, we hit it off and somehow we made it work. We got married six months later.

Our relationship was amazing. It felt as if all of our differences only brought us closer to one another. Sure, we had our problems, everyone does, and sure, I wasn’t the biggest fan of her little habit, but I had my own vices. Namely, costly bourbon.

Yet, we made it work, and I often took part in Janet’s ‘special little evenings.’ Janet would get high on acid or other psychedelics while painting, and I’d be with her getting drunk. Say what you want, but things never got out of hand; it was all recreational and nothing more than a bit of fun.

All that changed when Joseph came around.

Janet had her little clique of friends, a group of regulars she’d met over the years at her favorite hidden little clubs and bars. It comprised artists as weird as herself and who shared her interests. I never clicked with any of them, given how different I was, but they were all nice enough.

Joseph was different.

One of Janet’s friends had met him at a club and he’d quickly become a part of their little group. He was a suave guy who seemed to care more about appearances than anything else. I first met him when Janet held one of her group’s meetings in our living room.

I knew right away I’d never get along with that guy.

He had this grating, over-pronounced voice, and called himself a poet in prose, a writer who only bothered with topics of the highest elegance. Thus, his works would never catch on with mainstream audiences, and could only be enjoyed by a few select connoisseurs.

When I heard this type of pretentious bullshit, I almost couldn’t help but groan, and after giving the rest of the group a quick hello, I left them to their own devices.

That evening, I busied myself at the computer while hanging out with my good friend, Mr. Bourbon. Yet, a few times, driven by some strange sense of curiosity, I cracked open the door and listened in on their conversations. It was the usual artists’ talk, the stuff that went right over my head.

Occasionally, however, I caught on to Joseph’s grating voice as he disclosed the topics his art concerned. He’d talk about dreams and what was hidden behind them, things outside our universe, and what lay beyond our conventional, mundane reality. It was nothing but esoteric bullshit, most likely fueled by whatever drug he was on.

Janet and her friends, however, seemed entranced by the guy, and he soon become the center of their little group. This also meant that whenever they’d meet at our place, I’d have to tolerate the guy’s presence.

When I talked to Janet about it, she merely shrugged.

“He’s just an eccentric artist, you know. You’re married to one yourself.”

I laughed and accepted it. At least at first.

The more often I met him, however, the more I couldn’t deny something was wrong with this guy. He had this sort of… aura around him, one I couldn’t put anywhere and that I couldn’t help but be unsettled by.

I wish I’d done something by then, I truly wish, but I guess it was already too late by that point.

It was no other than Joseph who, unbeknownst to me, introduced her to this fancy new designer drug, this Nocturnalia.

I only found out about her using it by chance. One evening, I found Janet painting, while taking a hit from some strange, glistening powder. When I asked her about it, she told me it was nothing but another psychedelic.

I knew Janet was smart, I knew she was a responsible user, and I knew she always did her research.

Yet, I soon noticed the changes.

Janet’s paintings were beautiful, but also of a peculiar kind. Her works were more about colors and emotions than motifs. Yet, they all had one thing in common: they were bright and vibrant.

After she started taking Nocturnalia, her works became different. At first it were slight changes. Nothing but the minutest change in the color scheme.

Before long, however, they were nothing like her earlier paintings.

They became dark, weird, and much more surreal than anything she’d painted before. When I asked her about it, she’d laugh, and told me she was expanding her ‘artistic horizon,’ trying out new things and bringing her art to the ‘next level.’

Somehow, though, I could tell something else was going on.

In many of her new works, I could almost see the strange twisted figures hidden behind the dark swirls and spirals she painted. It seemed as if she’d been taken by Joseph’s words and her work had become nothing but an expression of the things he talked about. What had once been vibrant colors had been transformed into strange dreamscapes and dark space nebulas hiding terrible horrors.

I’d always enjoyed watching her paint, but now I could almost feel Joseph’s ghastly influences emanating from her work. Her paintings had this otherworldly aura to them, one I could feel growing stronger the longer I stared at them.

We had our first big fight when I confronted her about it and when I learned who’d actually gotten her this strange new drug.

“I told you, I’m just trying a new style. It’s not like I’m going full emo or something,” she said, laughing.

“I know, but isn’t it because of Joseph? I mean, I heard some of his talk and those paintings, they are all, I don’t know…”

“You mean because of the Nocturnalia?”

“What?”

“Yeah, Joseph brought it along, but I told you already it’s-“

“Wait, he’s the one who got you hooked on that shit? How can you just take some random drug this guy brings along? Wasn’t it your first rule to always do your research, to make sure it was safe? Or are you so taken by this guy and his stupid talk you can’t even think straight anymore?”

For a moment, she was taken aback by my outburst, but then she stared me down.

“Oh, I’m taken by him? Is that what you think? You know, maybe if you wouldn’t be drinking so much, and maybe if you’d join our meetings for once in your life, you’d know what’s actually going on! Instead, you just hide in your stupid little office and play your stupid little video games!”

“What’s actually going on? What are you-?”

“Just stop it, Stephen, all right!?”

With that, she stormed out of the room.

We made up eventually, but not a thing changed. She kept working on her weird paintings, kept hanging out with her little group, and kept doing the strange Nocturnalia Joseph had brought along.

A week ago, they met at our place again. I wish I’d have kicked the fucker out then and there, screamed at him to leave my wife alone and bring none of that shit near her ever again.

But, I didn’t. Somehow, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Looking back, I can’t help but wonder if I’d been afraid of him even back then.

When he entered, he was as suave and charming as always, all smiles, all words and talking in his usual mixture of half-riddles and thesaurus words. While the rest of the group swooned all over him, I had to keep my balled fists in my pockets.

This time, I didn’t even bother with greetings. Instead, I stormed to my office, hit the bottle, and settled in for a night of shitty video games and early sleep. All the while, I knew my wife and her friends were most likely getting high on Joseph’s little wonder drug.

Even with the volume turned up, and even while I was getting progressively drunker, I could hear their laughter, and their high-pitched, excited voices. Most of all, Janet’s.

I know what you’re thinking. This dude’s gotten my wife hooked on some new designer drug, or he’s fucking her. But no, that wasn’t it. I wish it would’ve all been so simple, but it wasn’t.

The first thing I remembered was waking up at my desk. It was long past midnight, and I was clearly very drunk. The almost empty bottle of bourbon stood right in front of me like some accusatory monolith.

Then I felt it. I can’t describe what it was, but something had changed in the house, in the air, and for a second goosebumps came all over my body.

Something was wrong here, very wrong.

I pushed myself off my chair and stumbled towards the door, bottle of bourbon in hand.

When I pulled it open, it hit me right away. It was a sensation… an otherworldliness that seemed to have spread through the entire house. It made me feel like I didn’t belong, that this wasn’t my home anymore.

As I stumbled through the house, I could hear the sounds; strange wet sounds. It sounded like splashing and squeezing, as if flesh, no bodies, were pushing together and coming apart again. Below it all, I heard moaning, and quiet, echoing giggles.

Those sounds. Don’t tell me…

The first thing that came to my mind was sex, an orgy. Some crazed drug induced fuckfest was happening right in the center of my living room.

The next thing that hit me was the smell. It wafted through the house, a strangely sweet aroma, yet slightly spicy; a smell unlike anything I’d ever smelled before.

For a moment, my body felt strange, and I almost turned around. Then the image of Janet came to my mind, my wife Janet, being down there, being part of whatever was going on, being fucked by that asshole.

My grip around the bottle tightened. Fueled by anger and rage, I was prepared, more than prepared, to beat his stupid head in.

As I made my way through the hallway, the sounds grew louder, echoed through the house.

When I finally saw the living room door, strange lights erupted from it. It was an ocean of intermingling colors, dancing and washing in and out of one another, like some crazed kaleidoscopic rendition of the aurora borealis.

“Janet?” I called out. “What’s going on?”

Instead of an answer, all I heard were more giggles and awed voices.

I cursed, called out for other members of her small group, but no one answered.

I fought myself on, step by step, but suddenly I felt drowsy, and slowly, ever so slowly, the rage went away. It was pushed aside by a feeling of apprehension. No, not apprehension, I realized. It was instinct, some part of my lizard brain telling me to leave this alone. Whatever was happening here was not for me.

I stopped, shook my head, took a breath and then a deep sip of bourbon, pushed it all aside and half-stumbled, half-dashed into the living room.

The moment I stepped through the doorway, I froze. The bottle of bourbon slipped from my hands and crashed to the floor right between my feet. It shattered, drenching the floor and covering my feet in sharp pieces of glass.

Yet, I didn’t give it any attention, I didn’t even feel it. I just couldn’t.

What I saw in front of me was madness; a surreal fever dream that had somehow become reality.

Joseph was still on the couch, or a being I knew had once been the suave man I’d seen so many times before. He’d become bigger, had grown in size, and was now an entirely different entity.

His eyes, no, his entire face, had turned into a mad, rotating galaxy that brought forth the dazzling lights I’d seen. Every other part of his body had turned into a shapeless void. Every other part but his arms and hands. His arms seemed to have grown longer, were spread out like two long, spidery tendrils encompassing the entire room. All the while, his hands were wide open. His fingers were spread out, moving frantically like those of a puppeteer right above the other members of the group.

A group that was… not a group anymore, but something else. What had once been almost a dozen people had now become an amalgamation of bodies, and limbs, of heads, hands and feet, a single, twisted entity.

Yet, there was no terror, only awe and giggling as their bodies were being warped, spread out and pushed together by the mad movements of the once-Joseph’s hands.

And then, his body folded open, and the darkness gave way to a vision, a display. The awe and giggling went wilder, and turned into a mad cacophony. For a moment, I saw a dazzling city made of non-shapes, of organic structures growing from the sky, of other, similarly twisted beings, all surrounded by a mad, swirling galaxy.

Then everything went dark.

When I awoke, I was lying on the living room couch. All was quiet and normal.

No hint of the strange sensations, of the smells or colors, remained. I was suffering from a splitting headache and for a moment, I groaned and closed my eyes again.

Then I remembered what I’d seen and jerked upright.

“Janet? Where are you?”

This time, I got an answer, but not from her. Instead, it was from a grating, over-pronounced voice.

“She’s not here anymore.”

I turned around to find Joseph sitting in a recliner and watching me from the other end of the room, still all smiles.

“What the hell are you doing here? Where’s my wife? What the fuck did you do to her?”

As I rambled on, I fought myself to my feet. I wanted nothing more than to throw myself at this asshole and beat that damned smile off his face.

“She’s in a different place now, one you can’t reach.”

As he said this, his smile never wavered, but his eyes changed. Once more, I knew there was something wrong with this guy. And now, I realized he was terrifying me, terrifying me on a level I’d never known or felt before.

“W-what do you mean?” I asked in a trembling whisper.

“She traveled on, but where she went, you can’t go.”

“The hell does that mean?”

“You never joined our meetings, but even then, you wouldn’t have understood. There are places hidden below dreams, places only reachable by those who strive for them, who want to transcend. These places, they lay outside this mundane reality.”

I opened my mouth again, to call him out on his bullshit, but with the slightest wave of his hand, Joseph shut me up instantly.

“She was searching for them. Deep inside, she’s always been searching for them. She wanted this, always had. There are certain people who strive for more, for ways to transcend, to improve in ways that just aren’t possible… at least not here. What they want to feel, to create, to know, is something different that can only be achieved there…”

“This makes no fucking sense!”

“No, it doesn’t, not for you.”

“But where is she? How can I reach her?”

When I said this, when I screamed those words at him, Joseph slowly got to his feet. With only a handful of steps, he crossed the distance between us and put his hand on my shoulder.

“You can’t,” he said with the slightest shake of his head.

At this moment, last night’s anger, last night’s rage at this esoteric asshole returned to me. In an instant, I pushed him back.

“Don’t you give me any of that shit! I’ve had enough!”

As I did this, Joseph’s body changed. I watched as he contorted, folded open, and twisted himself into a dazzling mad galaxy right in front of me.

I screamed in mortal terror, cringed back, stumbled over my feet, and hit the floor. As I scrambled away from his dazzling life, I clawed at the floorboards for dear life, and pulled my body onward. Away, I had to get away, this was not really, it was all just-

“You understand now?” I heard a calm, grating voice from behind me.

When I jerked around, there was only Joseph, the suave, human Joseph.

“It’s not for you. Only for those who accept it, who want it. And you, you don’t. You never will.”

“But… My wife… Just give her back, just give Janet back,” I brought out with tears in my eyes.

“I’m sorry. I can’t. She made her choice, made it long ago. And I was only here to help her, to give her that last, final push.”

And with that, Joseph simply turned around, walked from the room, the house and my life, leaving me a sobbing mess on the living room floor.

It’s been a week since then. I told myself repeatedly that none of it happened, that what I thought I saw was nothing but a delirious, drunk dream, but Janet’s still gone…

For the past days, I’ve looked into every single member of Janet’s little group. I tried to contact each one of them, went to the clubs and bars they all frequent. Yet, no one’s seen them or heard from them. For all I know, they really are gone.

Sometimes, however, on rare occasions, in these dark joints, frequented by the weirder or more alternative parts of the population, I notice a certain figure. A suave one, sometimes a woman, sometimes a man, but they’d always be sharing a strange, glistening substance amongst the patrons.

“There’s no fucking ghosts in that house!” my boss, John, yelled.

The victim of this newest tirade of his was Ed, my co-worker. I liked Ed. He was a good guy, if a little slow in the head.

We’d all heard the noises, of course, Ed, me and even John himself. Scratching noises from inside the walls, the sound of creaking floorboards echoing from distant rooms and hallways, and even doors opening and closing all by themselves.

Now, I don’t believe in ghosts, or anything supernatural. Those sounds? Nothing but the typical sounds of an old, run-down building comprising half-rotten beams and crumbling walls. And yet, even I had to admit that the place was kind of creepy.

What made the situation worse was our boss. John didn’t care for work ethics, work hours, or, well, his workers.

I’d started working with him a good year ago. Let’s just say, I wasn’t the smartest kid and after a few questionable life choices, my prospects of finding work were close to zero. John, however, seemed to see something in me and hired me on the spot. No questions asked.

At first, I thought he was a pretty decent guy. A hard worker who’d been running his own little renovation business for the better part of his life.

Soon enough, however, I learned what an asshole he really was. He worked me hard, which meant constant over-time and if I dared so much as to question him or, hell, complain, he’d go on a diatribe about us ‘goddamn millennials who’d never worked a day in their lives.’

Our newest contract was to refurbish an old, run-down colonial home. Some rich kid had inherited it from his late uncle and thought the place would be a perfect home for him and his family.

He wanted the job done by the end of November, which gave us little more than six weeks, but he was willing to pay a hefty sum for it. John, being the greedy bastard he was, agreed, of course, knowing fairly well that it would normally take us at least twice as long. As I said, he never cared much for work ethic, and if the pay was right, he’d not only work himself but also Ed and me to death.

I’ve got to give him credit, though. Sure, he was an asshole, but I’ve seen no one work harder than him. He was there right after sundown, and would stay until late in the evening.

Before long, however, the long, hard work days were getting to me. Those and the damned sounds.

We’d been on the job for no longer than a week when they started. At first, it was nothing but the rare sound from somewhere in the building you could easily attribute to vermin. Soon enough, however, they seemed to be ever-present, as if the house itself was alive and protested against our presence there.

John never said a word about them, and I, not wanting to get on my boss’ bad side again, tried my best to ignore them. Just the sounds of an old building, I kept telling myself.

Ed, however, was a superstitious man, and had soon convinced himself that the place was haunted. With each passing day, he grew more and more restless, fidgety even, and one day, he finally spoke up about it.

“I can’t do this no more, boss. All them noises and what not.”

John turned around, an annoyed look on his face, but said nothing, so Ed went on.

“I mean this place. Been working with you for years, now, but never heard no nothing like it. Being here after dark gives me the heebie-jeebies and makes me remember my grandma’s old stories about ghosts and-“

“Oh, for Christ’s sake, Ed! There’s no fucking ghosts in this house!”

“But boss-“

“No, Ed. Shut your trap. Just do your job, or you’re out! No pay, no nothing, you get me?”

Ed was a big guy, but as John laid into him, I could see him grow smaller by the second, almost as if he was folding into himself. At the end of John’s tirade, Ed looked dejected, but gave him a weak nod.

I felt for Ed, I really did, and by now, even I felt uncomfortable around the place.

At this point, however, I knew little about the house or its questionable history. All that changed one afternoon when Ed and I went on one of our little secret smoking breaks.

“Now why’d they be spending all that money on a place like this?” I heard someone say.

It was an old lady with a phone in her hand, leaning over the property’s fence and staring at our efforts with a disdained look on her face.

“No, Clara, I don’t think they’re tearing it down. I think they’re renovating it.”

“Excuse me, missus,” Ed spoke and walked towards her. “What you mean by place like this?”

The moment she noticed Ed and me, she almost dropped her phone and quickly ended the call.

“Oh, it’s nothing, I didn’t mean to-“

“It’s all right, we’re part of the construction crew,” I cut in. “But the place sure is creepy, isn’t it?”

For a moment, she squinted her eyes at me before she gave me a well-measured nod. Then she stepped closer towards us.

“Did you know about the former owner?” she asked in a conspiratorial whisper.

When both Ed and I shook our heads, she went on.

“He was a strange, reclusive man. Never talked to anyone, never left his home. Now, there’s nothing wrong with that, of course, but there are those rumors.”

“Rumors?” Ed blurted out.

“Well, I know nothing myself, but old Lisbeth down the road, she’s living right next door. Says she saw people at the house, people other than the old man, but saw no one entering or leaving.

I shrugged. “Probably didn’t-“

“Now here’s the thing. Old Lisbeth swears they were all children, young children at that. Sometimes she said she saw them even waving at her, as if to call out to her. Now, I’m not saying anything bad myself, or want to assume anything. But Lisbeth says it went on for weeks, months even, and then, one day, the old man just up and vanished never to be seen or heard of again.”

Ed’s face had grown paler and paler the longer he’d listened to the old woman. He’d just opened his mouth, most likely to inquire about the man’s mysterious disappearance when John’s angry voice reached our ears.

“The hell you think you’re doing? You think I’m paying you to stand around all goddamn day?”

The old lady excused herself and Ed and I had to endure another of John’s tirades about our ‘constant fucking smoking breaks.’

As he ranted on and on, I couldn’t help but wonder about the story I’d just heard. I could believe an old man living her by himself, but the rest, the stuff about those children…

No, I thought, shaking my head. It’s all bullshit. God knows what ‘Old Lisbeth’ had seen or thought she’d seen.

Yet, when night fell, a few hours later, a sudden scream reached my ears. It was Ed and a few moments later, he dashed past me as fast as he could and straight out of the front door.

I was quick to go after him, and when I made outside, he was already sitting in his truck, frantically trying to start it.

“Yo, Ed, hold on! What’s wrong?” I called out to him.

At first, he didn’t even notice, but when he finally did, I saw just how out of it he was. All the color had drained from his face and he stared at me with wide eyes.

“F-face,” he brought out. “I saw a face, a kid’s face!”

He said it with such intensity, I instinctively took a step back.

“Ain’t no way I’m going back in there!” he added.

“Hey, calm down, Ed. You sure it wasn’t just a rat or something?”

“No rat. Know damned well what a rat looks like, and that sure wasn’t one!”

“Where’d you even see it?”

Ed was still rambling on, his story barely coherent. From what I caught, he’d been tearing out some of the old, rotten floor boards in the old man’s former study when he uncovered a hole. When he went to check it out, he found someone, a child, staring up at him.

I instantly remembered the story we’d heard that afternoon and, for a moment, I couldn’t help but shiver. Then, the rational part of my brain took over and convinced me it was most likely attributed to Ed’s superstition and an overactive imagination.

“Maybe you just imagined it? Because of that story we heard and-“

“You leaving early, Ed?” John cut me off from afar. “You know what happens if you do, right? No work, no pay!”

I could see Ed’s face contorting, saw the struggle he went through. For a moment, I thought he’d just hit the gas and speed off, but then he slumped back in his seat.

“Thought so,” John spat at him in a condescending voice. “Now, what the hell’s the matter with you?”

“He thought he saw something,” I said, turning to John.

John, however, didn’t even bother with me and continued to stare Ed down.

“Saw a face,” he finally said. “A face below the floor staring up at me.”

When John heard this, he burst out laughing.

“You been drinking or something, Ed?”

“No, boss, not a sip. You know I ain’t touching none of that stuff.”

I heard John grumble something to himself before he went on.

“Either way, you get your ass back inside, and you as well, Frank! We’ve got work to do!”

“Ain’t no going back in there,” Ed said in a low voice, shaking his head vehemently.

“Well then, Ed,” John said in a now much harder voice. “If you ain’t going back in there, you might as well drive off. I need no damn slackers on my crew.”

Even after that, Ed didn’t move.

“Why don’t we just check it out? You know, in case it’s-“ I started, but John cut me off almost instantly.

“It’s bullshit, that’s all! Superstitious fucking bullshit. There’s no freaking ghosts in that house and there sure as hell is no freaking face below the floor!”

“You heard what the old missus said, didn’t you, Frank?” Ed suddenly asked, giving me a pleading look.

A moment later, John’s probing eyes came to rest on me. I couldn’t help but sigh before I told John what we’d heard this afternoon. He listened, but I could see the look on his face.

“Should’ve known it was something like this. Dammit Ed, the moment you hear some stupid story, you imagine freaking ghosts!”

“You have to admit, though, the place’s kind of creepy,” I cut in.

“For Christ’s sake! It’s an old place. Old places make noises, all right? And there are probably rodents in the wall or below the floor. Don’t tell me you’re believing this idiot’s story?”

“Ain’t no idiot. I know what I saw,” Ed protested.

“Well, if there’s really rodents below the floor,” I tried to defuse the situation, “we might as well take care of the problem now.”

John rolled his eyes at me, but nodded.

As we made our way towards the study, Ed huddled behind me like a scared little child, trying his best to hide his enormous frame behind me.

The moment we’d reached the heavy wooden door that led to the study, I had to take a deep breath before stepping inside. I didn’t want to admit it, but even I was getting scared.

John, however, was already inside, scanning the chaos that was the floor before he found the small hole Ed had been talking about.

“Well, what do you know?” he said.

“See, boss, I told you-!”

“There’s no freaking face, you idiot,” he snapped, turning towards us.

“It’s just a freaking hole, that’s what it is. It’s strange though, because there seems to be something down there. A basement, if I had to guess, but there was nothing about it on the floor plans.”

I went and walked over to him as well, to get a good look at the ominous hole myself, when I stumbled over something. At first, I thought it was a board Ed had torn out, but then I saw it was a small metal latch.

“A latch,” I said, more to myself than to either of them.

John was by my side instantly, and a second later, he went down on his knees and started toying with it, trying to pry it open.

As I watched him, I suddenly felt cold. That old lady’s story came back to me. Children that were never seen again, all those sounds around the house and now we’d discovered some sort of hidden basement.

“Oh god, don’t tell me…”

“Don’t tell you what?” John asked, looking up at me.

“That story, the one about the kids and-“

“Oh for Christ’s sake! Will you stop with that? It’s humbug, that’s all it is!”

“Look, man, I’m not saying there are ghosts down there or something, but if there’s anything to that story…”

John just rolled his eyes at me before he redoubled his efforts. A moment later, the trap door opened. Right away, a damp, musty smell hit us, but there was something else to it, something I’d smelled before but couldn’t put anywhere.

“Jesus Christ,” John cursed, covering his nose.

Then, after a few moments had passed, I watched as he took out a flash light and illuminated a set of old, wooden stairs.

In that moment, I knew what that smell reminded me off, rotten food. I cringed back.

“That smell, something rotten… John, I think we might want to call the cops, I think there-“

“And cause a fucking scene? The hell you think will happen if our contractor hears about supposed dead bodies and missing children?”

“Wait, what are you… Is that all you care about?”

“What do you mean?” he asked, getting up.

“You don’t care what happened here, do you? You just want to get paid, and that’s it, right?”

“Look, Frank,” he started. “If you want to know if there’s dead bodies, or God knows what down there, how about you take a look?”

I couldn’t help but stare at him.

“No,” I finally said. “There’s no way I’m checking out some creepy hidden basement.”

With that, I backed away from John and the trap door behind him.

“Oh, you’re not? You know what, fine. You don’t have to, you don’t have to do a fucking thing anymore because I’ve had it with your fucking attitude. Get the hell out of my sight! And that bonus I told you about? You can forget about that!”

At first I didn’t know what to say, but then I couldn’t help but shake my head.

“You know what, John? Go fuck yourself. I’m done!”

With that, I turned around and walked off, right past Ed, not even listening to the insults John screamed after me.

The moment I was outside, I jumped into my car and drove off.

I’d driven for barely five minutes when my phone rang. One glance at the screen told me it was John. I didn’t bother to answer. Instead, I couldn’t help but laugh. Guess he didn’t think I’d drive off like that. It rang on for a good half minute before he gave up.

“Not coming back, you asshole,” I said to myself.

Yet, only a few moments later, it rang again. And then once more. By the fourth time, I’d had it, and answered.

“The hell you want, asshole?” I yelled into the phone.

Instead of John’s voice, however, all I heard was rapid breathing and sobbing.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, John,” I cursed.

When I finally heard a voice, however, I knew it wasn’t John. It was Ed. His voice was raspy, and strangely high-pitched.

“Something’s wrong,” he said.

“Ed? Hey, you all right?”

Instead of answering, he kept sobbing, muttering to himself.

“It won’t open,” I understood, followed by a set of heavy thuds.

“Wait, Ed, what’s not opening? Shit, don’t tell me it’s that damned trap door?”

When he spoke again, I could barely make out what he was saying. I caught only bits and pieces: boss went down, didn’t come back, thought he fell, no answer, went down, door fell shut.

And then something else, something he repeated over and over again, as if he was pleading with me.

“No ghosts.”

A second later, I could hear a strange, distorted sound. A moment later, Ed began screaming.

“Ed, what the fuck’s going on over there?”

I got no answer. All I heard was Ed whimpering for a few more moments before the phone went quiet again.

I instantly tried to call him back, but the phone just rang on and on. Shit! Why’d that idiot have to go down there and why’d he have to drag Ed into this?! Fuck!

A second later, I’d turned the car around and was on my way back to the house. It took only ten minutes, but it felt much, much longer.

I hoped, prayed, that Ed was overreacting. Hell, maybe by now they’d managed to open that damned trap door and everything was okay again.

Yet, when I arrived, all was quiet. I called for both of them, but received no answer. Without wasting another second, I stormed through the building, down the long hallway, and right towards the study.

“Ed, John, you guys all right?”

Still nothing.

Finally, I’d made it and reached the trap door. This time, I heard something. It was nothing but a whimper, a quiet call for help. It was Ed!

“Hey, it’s all right, Ed. I’m here!”

With shaking, sweaty fingers, I tried to pry open the small latch, but the delicate piece of metal slipped from my grip again and again. Then, finally, I made it and threw open the door.

“Ed! Where are you?”

Then answer I received was another cry from Ed. I activated my phone’s flashlight and found him, huddled, just below the trap door. His fingers were bleeding, his eyes were wide and his mouth was open in a perpetual, toneless scream. For a second, I saw the bloody marks on the underside of the door, where he must’ve tried to open it.

“Jesus Christ, Ed, what happened to you?”

In an instant, I got a hold of him and pulled him upwards.

“It’s all right, Ed, it’s all right.

At first, he didn’t even seem to notice I was there. When he finally did, he screamed again, scrambled past me and retreated to a corner of the room. He was completely out of it.

“Ed, calm down!”

I walked over to, putting my hands on his shoulder, whispering to him that everything was fine now.

“Boss, down there, something happened, and, and those…” he couldn’t go on anymore. Instead, he put his arm around his legs and began rocking back and forth.

“Shit, Ed, what happened?”

Instead of an answer, all I heard was Ed sobbing to himself.

“Fuck!”

I turned around and stared at the trap door once more, than at the old, wooden stairs. Dammit.

“John, you down there? You all right?” I called out, but still got no answer.

Eventually, once I’d made sure the trap door was wide open, I went on my way down the stairs. Sure, John was an asshole, and sure, he shouldn’t have gone down there, but that didn’t mean I’d just leave him.

When I reached the bottom of the stairs, I found myself in a dark, musty cellar. The only light was the small beam of my phone’s flashlight.

The first thing I noticed were the cellars walls. They were made from solid brick, but here and there, they seemed to have crumbled to reveal… tunnels.

Rats, I told myself, it had to be rats. Yet, those tunnels were huge, much too big for simple rats.

Slowly, I let the beam of the flash light wander around, not taking a single step away from the stairs.

Suddenly, the light hit something. I figure in a corner!

“John!” I called out, but then I saw it couldn’t be him. No, what I saw was nothing but bones, a skeleton with only a few pieces of rotten clothing still clinging to it.

Then, I heard something, a single sound, so quiet, it was barely audible under my rapid heartbeat and the blood rushing through my veins: a wet gurgle.

I instantly turned to my right, the phone shaking in my hand. This time, it was John. His eyes met mine. He opened his mouth, but instead of words, all that came forth was blood.

“Jesus fuck man, what happened to you!?”

I rushed forward to help him. He must’ve fallen, must’ve hurt himself, and Ed must’ve freaked out because of all the blood.

Yet, I’d barely taken a few steps when I saw something else. I froze. On the ground around him, I saw figures, small, childlike figures that crowded around him. I saw tiny hands ending in sharp claws, saw wide gaping mouths, and above them, cheap, caricature-like estimations of children’s faces.

Their hands and mouths were wet with blood, John’s blood, I realized, and the moment these, these… things noticed me, I heard the same distorted sound I’d heard over the phone. This time, however, I heard it more clearly, and it almost sounded like giggling, like a failed imitation of childish laughter.

I screamed in sheer terror, stumbled back over my feet, and crashed to the floor.

In an instant, one of the creatures dragged itself forward, towards me, and I watched as his body grew longer and longer, becoming nothing more than an elongated mass of flesh. And then, as my eyes focused on that slithering, writhing flesh, I saw it continued and vanished down one of the many tunnels in the cellar’s walls.

For a moment, time stopped, and I could do nothing but stare in fascinated horror at the surreal sight in front of me.

Then, when a tiny child-like hand closed around my ankle, the trance was broken.

I screamed in pain when I felt its claws dig into my flesh. With my free leg, and out of it, I kicked at the hand, at the thing’s face, and when it let go, scrambled for the stairs.

I’d barely reached the first one when I felt its hand close on my leg again. I stumbled, crashed onto the stairs and behind it, the giggling grew louder and I heard more of them move, heard them coming for me.

In sheer and utter terror, I dragged myself on, up one stair and then another.

“Ed!” I screamed. “Ed, help me!”

No reaction. I screamed once more when more tiny hands got a hold of me and I felt more claws all over my legs. With all the strength I could muster, I pulled myself up yet another stair, but then the creatures’ strength overwhelmed me. In sheer desperation, I clung to the stairs, dug my fingernails into the wood, and then felt them give way.

This was it, wasn’t it? Just like John, I thought, I’d end up just like John. I’d-

Right at that moment, a tear-streaked, terrified face came into view above me. And then, a moment later, strong hands reached out for me.

As Ed pulled me upwards, I frantically kicked at whatever was behind me, until the tiny hands finally let go. A few seconds later, we’d made it back up.

In an instant, I threw the trap door shut, closed the latch, and scrambled away from it. Fueled by adrenaline, I’d already rushed from the study before I remembered Ed. I turned back to find him just standing there, still not understanding what was going on, but got a hold of him and dragged the crying man after me.

As we hurried through the building, I could hear the same sounds again. The scratching from inside the walls, the creaking of floor boards all around us, but this time I knew what they were. It was those things, those things that slithered through the building’s walls and below the floor boards.

When we’d made it outside, Ed’s tears had stopped, but his expression was different. His face was entirely empty, and all he did was to mumble to himself. It was nothing more than two words, two words I’d heard before.

“No ghost.”

Once we were in the car, I took a single glance back at the house and there they were, the simple, caricature-like faces of children in the windows. I saw them beckoning me to come back, imitating their call for help. But my eyes were better than those of Old Lisbeth, and I saw those faces for what they really were: nothing but a lure.

When I finally drove off, a half-catatonic Ed sitting next to me, I could help but laugh, and laugh and laugh.

In the end, John had been right after all. There’s no fucking ghosts in that house!

It was supposed to be our last big trip before our graduation. So I and my two best friends Nick and Chris set out to have our very own little spring break, albeit in Germany.

Soon enough we’d be jailed away in an office at a typical nine to five, so we wanted to go wild one last time.

Our route started at our home city in South Germany, led us on to Berlin and finally to Hamburg. We’d planned for three things beers, parties, and hookers. Hamburg, the final destination of our trip, was the best place for all three.

In case you didn’t know, Hamburg has one of the most famous red-light districts in all of Europe, the Reeperbahn. Before you ask, yes, prostitution is legal here.

After a few nights of heavy partying in Berlin and a five-hour train ride, we finally arrived in Hamburg.

We settled in a cheap Airbnb, and once evening arrived, we set out for the Reeperbahn.

The place is absolutely packed with bars and clubs. We had a drink here a shot there and generally had a great time. It wasn’t long before an overly friendly bouncer invited us into a strip club. He promised us cheap drinks and the hottest girls in the city. Well, of course, we were dumb enough to believe him.

Six Euros per beer, a bored middle-aged stripper named Clementine on the stage and we knew we’d been tricked. As soon as we finished our drinks, we left the place and Clementine’s promises for ‘a little something extra’ after her show behind.

As the night progressed, we eventually ended up at the famous Herbertstraße.

“Well guys,” my friend Nick started with a big smile, “this is where we’ll really find the hottest girls in the city.”

You see, the Herbertstraße is the only street in the whole city in which you can find prostitutes presenting themselves behind windows. The place has the reputation of having some of the most beautiful and most expensive prostitutes in all of Hamburg. Let’s just say, it was tough for me to keep a clear mind.

We went from window to window until we found a small back alley. There were an ATM and a vending machine and of course more prostitutes. We had a look at all of them and were about to get out again when we noticed another woman near the back.

The moment I laid eyes on her, I knew she was on a whole different level. I could almost feel myself being drawn towards her.

She was an oriental beauty with long black hair and deep brown eyes. The moment she noticed us stumbling into her direction she bid us come closer.

She smiled and laughed a bit when she noticed our stares. In front of this woman, all three of us were little boys again, each trying to outshine the others.

“Now what do we have here. Are you three looking for something special?” she asked in a voice as sweet as honey. I felt my heart skip a beat as she spoke and I could do nothing but nod for an answer.

She giggled again. It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever heard.

“Well, you won’t find it here. If you want to experience something truly special, there’s only one place where you can find it.”

With that, she slid a small note from an opening in the window. As I picked it up, I saw that it had the name ‘Der Basar’ and a crude map of how to get there on it.

As the three of us looked at it, the girl inside turned away from the window.

“I’ll be waiting there for you,” she said before she vanished.

“W-wait, what the hell?” Nick blurted out and hurried for the window.

“Fuck, guys, she’s gone!” he whined.

“Well, she said she’s waiting for us here,” I said and waved the note in his direction. “Are we going or what?”

“And you think she’ll be even there?” Nick asked.

I shrugged. “God knows, but we might as well go. We got nothing to lose anyway.”

“Where the hell even is it?” Chris asked and ripped the thing from my hand.

He took out his phone. After a bit of toying with Google Maps, he showed me and Nick a route that would lead us there in about fifteen minutes.

It led us along the Reeperbahn before we were supposed to enter a number of smaller streets.

“Hey Chris, hand me that thing for a moment,” Nick started and took the note from his hand. “Wait, this place is supposed to be a Laufhaus! Now we have to go!”

“Holy shit, are you serious?” I was next to him in a moment and reread the words on the note. There it was ‘Der Basar – Laufhaus’.

“Alright guys, what’s a Laufhaus?” Chris asked us turning around to Nick and me.

Nick’s face distorted into a mask of disbelief. “How the hell do you not know what a Laufhaus is, dude?”

“Sorry man, but I usually don’t pay to get laid.”

“Well fuck you, too!”

I sighed as the two of them started to throw a few more insults at each other. Once they stopped, I chimed in to explain things to Chris.

“Yo Chris, a Laufhaus is a special brothel. Instead of going in and asking for a girl, you can roam the place until you find one you like. There are girls everywhere waiting right in front of their rooms.”

“Well, I hope there are more girls like her around!”

It wasn’t long before we arrived at our destination. We ended up standing right in the middle of a small, dark street.

“Where the hell are we, man?” Nick cursed at Chris yet again.

“Right where the stupid note said we were supposed to go!”

“Well, you obviously fucked something up. Let me see…”

“Guys? Maybe it’s down here,” I interrupted them and pointed down a small alleyway. There was a slight shimmer of red light coming from it.

At first, I only stared down the alleyway, and I wasn’t sure if it was a good idea to go in. Then, as the image of that beautiful woman popped into my mind again, all those thoughts vanished.

Nick and I went forward and soon stepped inside.

“No way guys,” Chris said and raised his hands, “this shit looks sketchy as hell! What if there’s, I don’t know, mafia people waiting for us.”

“Mafia, in Hamburg? What the hell are you talking about? And who’d rob three poor students? Shut up and come on or we’ll you leave behind.” I called out to him.

It didn’t take long for him to follow us.

As we stepped through the alley, our footsteps echoed between the walls. Everything else was quiet.

“Fucking hell guys, I don’t like this,” Chris mumbled behind me.

It took us only about a minute to reach the end of the alleyway and the source of the red light.

It was a run-down old apartment building. All its windows were closed off by curtains, but there was a dim red light shining behind some of them.

A simple sign of gleaming red letters welcomed us to ‘Der Basar.’

“What an absolute fucking dump,” Chris cursed from behind.

He had a point, I thought, as I looked at the building. This didn’t seem right. There was no freaking way a beauty like her would be working in a dump like this.

“Why the hell would she send us out here? Fuck, you think she just wanted to get rid of us?” Nick asked looking at me.

I shrugged. “Either that or she gets a cut for anyone who comes here with this stupid note of hers.”

“Yeah, but THIS place?”

“This place indeed, young sirs!” A short man suddenly called out to us in a booming voice. He came out towards us and was dressed in flashing red robes that reminded me of a magician or circus director.

“Welcome at Der Basar! A place where dreams come true and your every desire will be fulfilled! Only here will you find the experience of a lifetime!”

He said it with a gesture of grandeur. The ordeal felt strange, considering the run-down building behind him.

“Eh, okay, we’re actually here because of this note. A woman said she’s waiting for us here,” I said in a low voice.

“Well, then why don’t you go in and have a look? There’s no charge for going inside.”

“Well fuck it, we came all the way here anyway,” I finally said, “might as well have a short look around.”

“Oh, you won’t regret it! Things are not always what they seem. Those who are willing might find the experience of a lifetime inside.”

The man had a big grin on his face when he finished and ushered us to follow him inside.

“Can’t believe this,” Chris mumbled behind us.

What we entered was the polar opposite of what we’d expected. It was a grand, costly furnished entry hall. For a moment I had to stop and wonder if we were still at the same place. The short man gave us a knowing grin before he vanished in a booth near the entrance.

Luxurious wallpaper, wood framing, and shining, golden engravings covered the walls. The air was heavy with incense and other exotic scents. The only thing that was still the same was the dim red light.

“Holy shit,” Nick said, “what the hell kind of place is that?”

“No clue, but it’s definitely impressive,” I added.

After we’d looked around a bit more, we haphazardly decided on a hallway to our right. There were doors everywhere. In some, the same dim red light was shining, while others were entirely in darkness. We could hear distant heavy breathing and the sound of flesh bumping against flesh.

In other rooms, we saw beautiful, exotic girls. They were motioning for us to come inside and join them. To say they were stunning would be an understatement, they were breathtakingly beautiful. The more rooms we passed, the harder it was to resist temptation. Yet, we still wanted to find the woman who’d given us the note.

The further we walked, the more the place seemed like a complete maze. Hallways crossed each other, leading around corners and up and down stairs. The place seemed incredible huge, much bigger than the exterior made you think. Was it all an illusion due to the confusing design?

Once more we descended a flight of stairs only to find two naked girls, embracing and kissing each other. When they noticed us, they let go of each other and smiled into our direction. Their bodies were pure perfection, works of art made flesh. As they motioned us to come closer, Nick stumbled forward right into their arms.

One of them embraced and kissed him passionately. They each took one of his hands and led him to a nearby room.

“Guess I’ll stay here for a bit,” he said in a jokingly, half-entranced way.

“Can’t believe it,” Chris scoffed, “both of them.”

“You want to wait for him here?” I asked.

“Fuck that, we came here to have some fun too, right?”

With that, he walked on. We’d barely taken a few more corners when we found a small resting area. There was an expensive looking couch. And on it sat yet another exotic beauty. She had long blond hair and was dressed in nothing but a transparent veil. There was nothing left to your imagination. A minute later I was left all alone.

Well, isn’t that great?

For a moment I thought to go on by myself, but the place was an absolute freaking maze. I didn’t even know how to get back to the room Nick was in right now. God knows how long it would take us to find each other again if we all stumbled off on our own.

I sighed and sat down on the couch. I’d just taken out my phone when I saw something ahead of me in the hallway. The same long, dark hair, the same scarcely dressed, slim, body, the same brown eyes, and the same red lips. There was no doubt about it. It was her. Could she actually have been waiting for… me?

“My, my, guess you really came,” was all she said, but it made my blood course hot through my veins.

With a few soft steps, she came over to me. There she was, standing right in front of me. For a moment I could do nothing but stare at her. Only she mattered. The universe itself had lost all meaning to me. I wanted nothing more than her. With shaking hands, I reached out for her and touched her soft, white skin. I inhaled heavily. Even just touching was almost too much for me. God, I could get lost in those eyes.

Slowly, ever so slowly she leaned forward.

“So you want to experience something truly special?” It was nothing but a whisper, but the question was heavy with unspoken promises.

“I really,” but I wasn’t even able to form one coherent sentence.

There was no need for words. She pushed herself on top of me and moments later our lips met. Nothing mattered. The only thing I could feel was longing and endless lust. I’d give everything for her.

When she released me from the kiss, she was breathing heavily. I had my arms wrapped around her, holding her close. I pushed my face against her upper body, kissing and caressing it. She moaned, threw her head back and with each breath she took, her breasts moved up and down.

My hands wandered and explored the flesh-bound perfection that was her body.

Once more she kissed me and once more passion flooded through me. When our lips separated this time, it was pure torture.

Finally, she pushed me down hard. For a moment, the world seemed to turn dimmer. The red light retreated, and the only thing I could still see was her upper body and her face.

The way she moved, the way she threw her head back, it was almost too much, too sensual. As she leaned back, she finally took off the few pieces of clothing still covering her upper body. She pushed her heavy breasts into my face and started to caress my body.

I felt her mouth against my ear, my neck, my shoulder and her hands all over my body. Her touch was so careful, well measured and yet so passionate. It was almost as if she was all over my body at the same time.

I couldn’t resist anymore. When I opened my eyes though, I saw something strange. For a moment there were too many fingers, too many hands. I saw the flesh of her body shape and shift, as she started to entangle me.

When she saw the look on my face, she giggled.

“You wanted something special, didn’t you?”

I didn’t say a word, I just couldn’t. I inhaled sharply as I pushed everything but her from my thoughts. My clothes were off already. I hadn’t even noticed it. By now she too was completely naked. This was worth anything in the whole world.

As she pulled me towards her and guided me inside the feeling was out of this world. Never had I know that such passion, such pleasure was possible. Her hands were holding on to me, but at the same time, they were working all over my whole body, to give me this unbound pleasure.

“Jesus fuck!” I suddenly heard Chris scream.

“Eric! Get the fuck away from this thing!”

He was right next to me and threw himself against the woman pushing her off me.

“What the fuck man!” I screamed at him and tried to punch him. Then I saw it.

What was on the couch now was something entirely different. It was a beautiful, disgusting abomination. Her face was the same as before, but her body, oh god, her body. It was nothing but a shifting, writhing mess of limbs. There were so many arms and hands. Her neck was too long, and I shivered as she laid eyes on me. Yet, it took only a moment, before desire overtook me once more.

I was about to get back on top of her, to let this ungodly abomination embrace me again. To show me more of what I’d just felt.

“What the hell are you doing!? We’ve got to get out of here,” Chris yelled at me and pulled me away.

The creature giggled and finally got up. One last time she smiled at me before she slithered towards the hallway.

“Well, come back when you’re ready,” she called out to me from down the hall. Then she‘d vanished.

I shuddered, what the hell had happened? What the hell had I just seen?

“Dude, what the fuck is going on? Why are you-?”

“There’s something wrong with this place! These women, these things… fuck man! That thing fucking bit me! Here!”

He pulled up his shirt to reveal a huge, bloody gash on his chest.

“Wait, what happened?” I was out of it. I had no idea what he was even talking about.

“The fucking woman! Come on!”

I’d barely put on my pants before he started to pull me down the hallway. “Hold on, I don’t,” but I broke off. What was going on? Why was the smell of incense so heavy in the air?

“We’ve got to find Nick!” Chris said to me.

Nick, I wondered for a moment. Who the hell was that? My god, where the hell did she go?

I looked around for the woman, but Chris dragged me on. The place was even weirder now. We rushed down one corridor to find a flight of stairs we’d taken before only to end up at another hallway. Whenever we turned around things seemed to have changed completely. It was almost, as if this whole, entire place was shifting and warping itself around us.

“Nick! Where the hell are you?” Chris called out.

There was no answer. The only thing we heard was giggling from the rooms around us. Hands reached out for me, touching me, bidding me to join them. Oh how much I wanted to. I wanted to be back in her arms.

It was by sheer accident that we finally stumbled into the right room. Even in my dazed state, I froze at the display in front of us.

There was Nick, yes. The two girls though weren’t there anymore. What was on top of him now was an obscure bundle of flesh. It was as if the lower body of both girls had fused together into one abominable mess.

More than a dozen, bony legs were wrapped around Nick’s body. While one of the girls was still kissing him passionately, the other was digging around in his intestines, eating him. All the while Nick’s face showed nothing but the highest glee, pleasure out of this world. He moaned, and his face was contorted into a perpetual, bloody smile. The whole bed was soaked in blood.

Chris next to me vomited on the floor, but I only stared. I was disgusted, shocked, repulsed, but also jealous.

When the two of them noticed us all they did was smile at us.

“Why don’t you join in,” they both said and bid us come forward. All the while Nick’s hips were still thrusting the thing on top of him.

“Oh my freaking god,” Chris blurted out, his eyes wide. “Jesus fucking,” but he broke off again.

“Eric! What the hell are you doing!” he screamed at me again, while I stood there, motionless watching the passionate massacre in front of me.

I don’t know anymore how we found our way back to the entrance hall. All I remember is Chris screaming at me as he dragged me through an ever-shifting madhouse.

When we stumbled into the entry hall, the strange short man was still there. When he saw us, his happy face changed to a sad smile.

“Are you sure you want to leave already? You’re missing out on an experience like no other, my friends.”

“What the hell are you talking about? Are you freaking insane? That freak show in there-“

“Young man,” he cut Chris off. “It would be wise for you not to insult-“

“Shut the fuck up! I don’t give a,” but Chris broke off when the posture of the man changed. The smile vanished from his face and was replaced by a look of sheer anger.

He put his hands on Chris’ shoulders and suddenly seemed much taller than before. I could see Chris’ face contorted in pain as the man’s hands almost dug into his skin.

“I think, it’s best if the two of you would leave this fine establishment now.”

It was no suggestion, it was a threat.

“But our friend?” Chris asked in a low voice.

Once again the man’s face lit up.

“Your friend got exactly what he came for. An experience like no other, the greatest pleasure imaginable. All for a comparatively small price: his life.”

—

It’s been more than a week now. I’m not sure where Chris is. I think he went to the police and reported what happened that night or he left the city already.

I, on the other hand, have been searching. Not for my friend, but for her. Every night my dreams are inhabited by her. I see her in all her disgustingly beautiful perfection. Each night I get a small taste of the same pleasure again. There’s nothing I want but her. Each morning I wake up, all alone, covered in sweat and cursing that Chris took me from her.

I’ve spent days now scouring the Reeperbahn and the streets around. I went to the Herbertstraße again, but it’s as if her window never existed at all. The alleyway we found ‘Der Basar’ at is also gone. There’s nothing.

Yet I keep wandering and searching. I hope that I’ll see her again one day. That one day I can find this place again. Nothing is important to me anymore. There is only her and the pleasures she made me feel.

After all, my life is only a small price to pay.

---

Certain people don’t fit into a nursing home. After working there for a few years, I could tell almost in an instant that Dr. Reimer was one of them.

He was an academic who’d lived by himself all his life. He’d never been married and had led a quiet, solitary lifestyle.

When a stroke had left him unable to handle his daily life, his doctors had recommended he’d move to a nursing home. Dr. Reimer refused of course, but after a while, even he couldn’t deny that it was necessary.

So after two weeks of struggling, he moved into our nursing home.

When I got to know Dr. Reimer and assisted him in his move, I learned what a stern and bitter old man he was. He yelled at me countless times and didn’t want to be touched. Worst of all, he always reminded me that he might be old, but not helpless.

One thing I remember most is how he scoffed at the cross hanging in the entry hall.

We are not a Christian institution, but we found that many of our residents took comfort in religion. The ones who didn’t mostly ignore the cross.

Not so Dr. Reimer, the old man, called it humbug and went on a tirade about religion for the next ten minutes. It was all just a waste of time and only there to give hope to the stupid. He’d never fall for a fraud like that.

I was honestly quite happy when I was done with him. After I’d moved his belongings to his room, head nurse Claudia took over. She introduced the old man to the staff of the nursing home and walked him through the rest of the ward.

Once the old man had settled in, he tried his hardest to keep up with his usual isolated lifestyle. The people responsible for his part of the ward said, he was spending all his time in his room reading.

I later learned that Dr. Reimer once tried to socialize with the other residents.

There was one problem though. Dr. Reimer was not only a stern and bitter old man but also an arrogant one.

His whole life he had studied and worked in the field of biology. For years he’d lectured at the local university, wrote some books and published dozens of papers.

When he talked to the other residents though, he found out that they were all non-academics. They were happily talking about day to day things, about family or their lives. None of them were much interested in biology or had an idea about the things the old man spent his time with. Of course, Dr. Reimer made a big fuzz, called them all plebeians and idiots and stormed back into his room.

When I heard this, I couldn’t help but pity the old man. Sure, he seemed to be a terrible person, but he was most likely here for the rest of his life. I could at least try to make his stay a bit more comfortable.

At the time I wasn’t working in his ward of the nursing home though. So I decided to pay the old man a visit once my shift was over.

As I’d expected he was reluctant to interact with me. He told me to get out of his room and leave him alone.

Once I feigned interest in biology though and threw a few terms I’d looked up at him, he opened up to me.

From that point onward I’d pay the old man a visit every other week.

That’s how I learned about the man who came to visit him as of recently. He told me he had no idea who the man was, but he showed up all the time. Apparently, that man pretended to be a relative of the Dr. Reimer’s.

“Damn well know that he’s no relative of mine,” he said with anger in his voice, “don’t have any relatives anymore.”

“But then-” I started, but the old man cut me off.

“I don’t want him here. There is something wrong with him! Comes in at the strangest times…”

“Did you try to talk to the other staff? I am sure they-“

“Don’t you think I tried? Those dimwits, they just nod and say a few nice words and forget it as soon as they are out of the room. Pah!”

After that, I told the old man that I’d make sure to have a look at visitations. I’d make sure to not let this ominous visitor back in.

I hate to admit it, but I didn’t follow through on my promise. We were quite understaffed at the time. I worked overtime almost every day and whenever I had a free day, I could be sure I’d be called in to help out.

So when I came in the next morning, I’d already forgotten about the old man’s problem.

For the next couple of weeks, things got even more chaotic. I didn’t get to interact with the old man at all. It was by sheer coincidence that I passed by his room one day and decided to talk with him for a bit.

“Said no one was supposed to enter,” he cursed at me from behind his book.

“Oh, it’s me, Dr. Reimer. How are you doing today?”

The old man put his book aside. He never smiled at me, but gave me an approving nod and told me to take a seat.

The inflammation in his stomach was getting better these days. In general, he said, he was doing quite alright.

“At least as alright as one can do in a place like this.”

I smiled a bit at his last remark. Still the same as always, I thought.

“If it weren’t for him, I’d have died of boredom already.”

“Who are you talking about? One of the other residents?”

“Pah! They are all stupid! I am talking about that visitor. He’s quite the guy, you know? First time that someone can hold their own in a conversation with me.”

As he said this, I remembered what he’d asked of me a few weeks ago. I was a bit embarrassed to have forgotten about it.

“He’s still coming here?” I asked awkwardly.

“Once every week,” the old man answered, “but I am glad he is.”

I nodded. Guess things worked out alright, I thought. As the old man talked about his visitor, he seemed almost happy. It was the first time I’d actually seen him smile ever since he came here.

It was a month later that head nurse Claudia wrote me up for the night shift. I hated it. Of course, the work wasn’t exhausting as during the day, but night shift meant living like a zombie for a week or two. I was never a night person.

My daily routine would be in shambles and what few hours I had left at home would be spent in perpetual sleepiness.

The night shift itself consisted of two things only. That was sitting in the staff room, trying to stay awake. Or you could patrol the hallways to make sure everything was alright.

It was during one of those nights that I ran into Dr. Reimer. The old man was completely out of it, utterly scared and confused. The moment he saw me, he hurried over to me. I could see that he was exhausted, covered in sweat and shaking.

“Dr. Reimer? Is everything alright?” I asked, but the old man needed a moment to catch his breath.

“That, that man, he is back!”

“What man?”

“The one I told you about!”

“Your friend? He is here right now, at this time?”

“He is no friend, he is a fiend, a demon!”

But you said-“

“I know damn well what I said, but he’s changed! At first, he was normal enough, but then, then,”

The old man’s voice trailed off. When he looked at me his face was a mask of terror.

“I never wanted to hear these things, I never wanted to! He talked about the darkness, about the things beyond, a place where every one of us is all but alone.”

Dr. Reimer?” I asked, but the old man seemed in shock, talking more to himself, then to me.

“I didn’t want to know about the river Styx, or what lies beyond! Oh god, why did he have to tell me about hell’s horrible capital Dis, why about Beelzebub’s seat at Pandemonium?”

“Dr. Reimer, those are just stories, there is nothing to them,” I said to calm him down.

“But I saw it all! As he was telling me those horrible things, I could see them myself, I could, I could…”

“Now, now Dr. Reimer, you have to calm down.”

“How could I stay calm? How? After I’ve seen these blazing fields, the ashen air and the faces of all those, those-“

“Come on now Dr. Reimer. Let’s stop talking about it. If that man is still there, I make sure he goes away. I’ll make sure he leaves you alone and make sure he doesn’t return.”

Now the old man had listened and he looked at me with teary eyes.

“Just please make him go away, I don’t ever want to hear about those things again. I just want to read, to spend the time I still have in peace.”

As the two of us walked through the hallway, I felt how shaky the old man was. He seemed to be a completely different person from his usual bitter self. He almost huddled against my arm as I led him.

With each step we took, I could hear him murmur next to me. He spoke of Abaddon of the pit, of Lucifuge Rofocale and Sargatans. A few times I winced, as he pressed my arm so hard, that I felt his nails dig into my skin.

When the old man saw the door to his room, he inched back and hid behind me.

“Everything is alright, Dr. Reimer.”

The moment I lead the old man through the door though, I thought I felt a rush of hot air. All of a sudden, completely out of nowhere, the old man started to scream up in terror. Right then I thought I saw a shade at the end of the room.

I hit the light switch and as the lamp flooded the room, I saw we were alone.

When I turned to Dr. Reimer, I saw that his eyes were wide open and he was clutching his chest with both hands. Then he fell to the floor. In an instant, I pressed the pager to notify the rest of the staff.

I knew it was too late even before the doctors arrived. The old man had suffered from a fatal heart attack.

—

When I went home after that night, I didn’t catch any sleep. I was too confused about what had happened. Had that man really been there that night?

I went to work much earlier that day. I went straight to head nurse Claudia to ask her about the mysterious visitor. What she told me though, confused me even more. As far as she could tell, there never was any visitor.

She told me the old man had come to her a few times demanding to not let this man revisit him. She didn’t know what he was talking about though. No one ever came to visit Dr. Reimer.

To make sure, she opened up the visitation list once again. We went over it together, and she was right, there was no entry for Dr. Reimer since he started staying with us.

I asked her if it was possible for the man to have simply walked in. She said, once sure, but not every week. Someone would have noticed him eventually.

After that, I talked to the rest of the staff. They told me the exact same thing. No one ever saw anyone visiting Dr. Reimer.

There was one nurse though who told me something that made my skin crawl. A few times she’d heard Dr. Reimer talk in his room. It had surprised her and she’d wondered who the old man could be talking to.

When she peered inside though, the old man was all by himself.