There’s Something Strange Going on at My Dorm

Living at the dorms is always an experience.

Since my first semester, I’ve lived in one of the oldest dorms on my university campus. There are no individual apartments here. Instead, each floor of the building is one giant apartment that people use together. In my case, I lived with thirteen other people.

Everyone living here has their own room, but everything else is shared. There are a kitchen, a common room and two bathrooms including showers.

To be honest, living here isn’t exactly great. The building is old, as I said, and hasn’t been renovated in years. The worst though is the number of people that are herded into one place together.

Showering is often an awkward affair since you never know who might barge into the bathroom while you’re in. The worst though is the shared kitchen. There’s always chaos. At least one person is stealing other people’s food. The pans and pots are in almost perpetual use. Worst of all though, half the people don’t bother cleaning up after themselves. The dishwasher doesn’t help at all.

That’s why I always look forward to the semester break. Almost everyone leaves to go home and to visit their parents. I on the other hand always stay. Let’s just say I don’t get along with my parents all too well anymore.

Having the whole place to myself is fantastic. I can shower whenever I want, I can use the kitchen however I see fit, and I never have to worry about my chicken nuggets going missing.

One morning though, when I got ready to leave for my part-time job, I heard one of the showers running.

I was slightly annoyed because I’d hoped I’d have the place to myself for at least a couple of weeks. I decided to wait for whoever else was here to finish showering and made myself a cup of coffee.

While I sat in the kitchen drinking my coffee and preparing breakfast, I could still hear the shower. By now it was almost twenty minutes. Hurry the fuck up, I cursed to myself, some of us have things to do!

After another ten minutes passed, I started to get seriously annoyed and decided to check things out. When I entered the shower and called out I got no answer. Once more I called out, but still no reaction. Finally, I’d had it and went forward to confront the person only to find an empty shower with the water still running. You got to be kidding me! Whoever was in here just left and didn’t bother to turn the damned thing off. For all I know, they could’ve been out ages ago. Great, and now I’ve got to hurry to make it to work in time.

For the next couple of days, similar things kept happening. At times I heard the water running in the bathroom, at others I heard someone rummaging in the kitchen. Whenever I went to check things out though, I saw no one.

I started to get a bit unnerved at this point, but I told myself that whoever it was, probably avoided me. Most likely they had hoped to have the place to themselves and weren’t too fond of interacting with me. God knows we’ve got our share of weirdos here.

In the evening I decided to hang out in the kitchen and see if I could catch a glimpse of my sneaky flatmate. I prepared myself a nice meal, put on some music, but even after almost two hours, there was no sign of anyone.

I sighed, but before I left I put out a little note saying ‘Hello, how about a chat tomorrow evening?’

It was a few days later when I returned from work that I met someone on the stairs. It was a Chinese guy, who I assumed to be an exchange student. When I greeted him, he nodded and hurried to leave.

Could it be this guy? Nah, there’s no way. Each floor has different locks, there’s no way for him to get in.

“Hello!” I called out when I entered, but I got nothing but silence for an answer.

“Hey, I know someone else is here, how about we have a talk?”

Still nothing.

I cursed again and went to the kitchen. My little note was still there, on the table, right where I’d left it. I was about to throw it away when I noticed a frowny face below my message.

“Oh come on,” I mumbled to myself. This was getting ridiculous. I’d had it with this. I went from room to room, knocking on every door. Hell, I even listened, but everything was quiet.

I started to get a bit crept out at this point. Before I went to bed that night, I made sure to lock the door to my room.

Things took a turn for the worse the next morning. I was busy preparing breakfast when one of the cups from the cabinet behind me came crashing down. With a loud clang, it shattered to the floor. My heart skipped a beat, and I jumped back. How in the hell did that happen? Hadn’t I closed it? Cups don’t simply fall down like that, do they?

I quickly gathered my coffee and my cereal and hurried to my room. This was starting to get more than a bit creepy.

That evening, when I returned from work, I heard the shower running once more. I turned it off and called out again, but I was still all alone.

From then on other things kept happening. At times I found the items in the bathroom misplaced. At others, I heard the toilet flush or the water running, yet I never saw who actually did it.

After a week this really started to get to me. Was someone playing a trick on me? But how in the hell did I never see them?

I decided to wait around in my room and the moment I‘d hear anything I’d rush out and confront whoever was out there. When the shower was turned on once more, I barged from my room out into the hallway. Whoever you are, I thought, I’ve got you now.

“Okay, you can come out now. This was funny for a while, but enough is enough,” I called out.

No answer as expected.

“Alright, that’s it.” With that, I ripped open the bathroom door.

I had a ‘Got you’ on the tip of my tongue, but all I found was an empty room. I checked the showers, but there was no one there. How the hell was that possible?

I felt goosebumps all over my arms. Someone had to be here, this made no sense.

Only after a while, I saw it. It was a note lying on the bathroom floor. I went forward and picked it up with shaking hands. It was the note I’d left in the kitchen. On it was my message, the frowny face and a ‘Hurry Up.’

I rushed back to my room right away and locked the door behind me. Fuck this, seriously, fuck this!

I reasoned with myself and tried to find a logical explanation, but there was none. Someone had to be in the bathroom. There was no other way. A person can’t just up and vanish, can they? We are on the third fucking floor!

Then a new thought slowly crawled into my mind. I went to my computer and looked into the history of the building. All I found on the university’s page was the date the building had been constructed.

When I started to search around on Google though, I found a thread on an old university forum from the early 2000s.

Young woman found dead in her dorm room

I shivered. There’s no freaking way.

As I read through the thread, I learned that in 2001 a young woman, named Lisa Richter had been killed by her then-boyfriend in one of the rooms in this building. The body was only discovered by accident and showed severe signs of abuse. As I continued reading, I learned that the perpetrator had kept the victim in her own room for days before he eventually murdered her.

The murder happened in one of the rooms on the first floor of the building.

This can’t be. Something like ghosts can’t… My thoughts were interrupted when I heard a ruckus in the kitchen yet again.

Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit! What the hell is going on here!?

The noise subsided as soon as it had started, but there was no way I’d go out there. For the rest of the evening and the night, I sat huddled together on my bed. Over and over I repeated my mantra of ‘Ghosts aren’t real’ to keep myself from panicking.

Only when the sun finally came up was I able to muster up the courage to actually leave my room.

Step by step I carefully walked down the hallway towards the kitchen. It was in utter chaos. All the cupboards were open, and cups and plates had been shattered on the floor. In the middle of all that I saw a small piece of paper.

When I went forward, I saw that it was the same note yet again. The same freaking note that I’d written a few days ago and that I’d found in the bathroom last night.

There was my message, there was the frowny face, there was the ‘Hurry Up, and now there was a ‘Room 1-7’. The note fell from my shaking hands.

“No freaking way,” I mumbled, “this shit can’t be real.”

“W-What the hell do you want?” I brought out in a shaking voice. Nothing. Fuck!

“Leave me the hell alone! I’ve got nothing to do with any of that!” I finally called out in desperation.

I could almost feel a presence behind me. I jerked around and then I saw it. All over the walls, I read the same thing:

Room 1-7

I screamed up in a panic, rushed from the apartment, down the stairs and out of the building.

Only once I was out in the open was I able to somewhat calm down. I couldn’t stay there anymore. There’s no freaking way I’d stay any longer in a freaking haunted building.

After a while though, reality came back to me. I couldn’t just leave like that. All my things were still there and… Fuck!

There was no freaking way that I’d go up there again. At least not on my own, I told myself. What could I do though, everyone I knew was gone for the semester break!

After long minutes I mustered up the courage to step back into the building. I took a deep breath and was about to make my way back up when I saw the emergency board in the entry hall. It had the number of the dorm‘s caretaker on it, in case anything urgent, like a burst pipe, came up.

I felt like the biggest freaking pussy on the planet when I took out my phone and called the number.

“Emergency line, how can I help you,” I heard a grumpy voice on the other end of the line.

“Sorry for the early call, but there’s well, a problem with the showers in my dorm,” I lied. “It might be a problem with the pipes.”

“Goddamnit, that again? What floor are you staying on?”

I quickly told him that I was living on the third floor and made up a problem that I hoped was convincing enough. It was about fifteen minutes later when an older man with a toolbox arrived. When he saw me, he eyed me for a moment.

“You the one that called?”

I nodded and followed him upstairs. Once more I felt like a freaking idiot for calling this guy out here. In my mind, I already prepared an excuse once he found out nothing was wrong. Well, nothing except the freaking ghost haunting the place.

I opened the door, and the two of us stepped inside.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he cursed when he saw the ‘Room 1-7’ markings all over the walls.

“Oh that, I don’t know,” I started, but the guy turned towards me and confronted me.

“You high, son? Is this some sort of stupid prank? I dare you to-“

“It was here last night when I got home! No clue who did it. Maybe it was the guy staying on the first floor. I might have left the door unlocked and-“

“You goddamn young people, if I find the one who did this,” he started and made his way towards the stairs again.

„Wait, where are you going?“

“Well, what do you think? I’m going to see if anyone is actually downstairs and you are coming with me. If not, then you’re in for a lot of trouble!”

With that, he went down to the first floor and unlocked the entry door.

“Anyone home?” he called out as he stepped inside.

He walked through the place, cursing under his breath at the general mess it was in. I slowly followed him. Wasn’t that Chinese guy living here?

He walked through the hallway and started to knock on each individual door calling out again.

While he did that, I suddenly started to hear something else. It was a sort of wailing or crying.

“You know, I don’t care what kind of-“

“Shush,” I motioned for him to be quiet. Then I started to walk into the direction where the noise was coming from.

“Now what? I’ve got no time for any of your bullshit!”

I didn’t listen anymore. Instead, I strained myself to hear where it was coming from.

Finally, I stood right in front of room 1-7. As I put my ear against the door, I could make out muffled crying and sobbing.

“Hey, everything alright in there? What’s going on?”

“What the hell are you,” but the man broke off when a muffled scream reached us.

“Well I’ll be damned,” he cursed and stepped towards the door.

He took out the master key and unlocked the door.

At first, we didn’t really see a thing since the room’s sole window was closed off by black curtains. Once our eyes got used to the darkness, we saw that the room was in utter chaos. Everything inside was trashed.

None of that didn’t matter though. What mattered was the gagged and bound Asian girl in one of the corners of the room. Her eyes were wide, and she was shaking.

“Jesus Christ,” I said and went forward to help her.

While I was busy to remove the gag and the rope that bound her to the heater, the caretaker called the police.

It turned out that the girl was an exchange student from China and the actual tenant of the room. What had happened was that a fellow student was recently kicked out of his dorm. When he had no place to stay, she offered to help him out and let him stay with her until he found a new dorm room. After a while though, the guy started to get violent. When she tried to leave and get out, he tied her up and locked her inside of her room.

It turned out that she was in a very similar situation to me. Apart from her and her supposed friend, everyone else had left. No one would’ve noticed her.

If the caretaker and I hadn’t stumbled into her room by accident, then the worst might have happened.

When the police asked me about the ‘Room 1-7’ all over my walls, I could only shake my head. I explained that it was just there one morning and I had no idea how any of it could’ve happened.

Deep inside though, I knew who had done it.

Family Pictures

The wound caused by my parent’s death never really healed. I often had days when the pain was too much, and the longing to see them again was too strong.

I recently suffered through one of those days. It had been more than two years since my parents had died, but the pain felt fresh and burned hot in my chest.

I went back to one of our old family photo albums. It always helped to have a look through them and reminisce about times long gone.

Here I was as an infant in my mother’s arms, there was my first day of school and what followed were the pictures of various family trips.

I went from page to page until I reached one of our many trips to small towns. My parents never took me to different countries. They were boring like that. Instead, we mostly went sightseeing in Germany.

In the picture, my parents and I were hugging each other in front of a small restaurant. I felt tears coming to my eyes once more when I saw us like that. It had been such a nice trip.

A few minutes later I decided it would be a great idea to take a trip there and revisit the place.

The picture was from a trip to a small town about an hour away from here. When I checked out the town online though the pictures of our trip didn’t seem to fit the scenery at all. The small restaurant had been in front of a backdrop of distant factories and industrial areas. There were none in the town I was looking at.

I was a bit baffled, but maybe the pictures were from a different trip. Mom must’ve put them in the wrong place or confused the names. God knows, she was always a bit scatter-brained.

I scanned the picture for anything tangible and finally read the name of the restaurant. When I googled it, I got more than a dozen replies. It was a common name after all. I looked at each of the results, but they were entirely different places.

Great, I thought, the picture was from fifteen years ago. The place has probably closed down by now. Still, even if the restaurant itself didn’t exist anymore, it would be nice to visit the town itself.

I continued my search, but in the end, I had to give up. I couldn’t remember the name of the town at all. There was no use in trying further.

Instead, I posted the picture on a German subreddit to see if anyone would recognize the place. I didn’t have much hope, considering it was just a random small town, but who knows, maybe I’d get lucky.

When I rechecked the thread later, I’d gotten a few replies. Some were wild guesses, others were dumb jokes. Well, not like I expected anything different. I left the post open for the time being and decided to prepare some dinner.

When I came back, I had a handful of new replies, but none were helpful. I’d also gotten a message. Maybe someone had figured it out after all?

The message though proofed to be a bit strange.

It was written by a poster somewhere in Germany who stated that he had a picture that looked almost exactly like mine.

I wrote back to him and asked what he meant. I got a reply a couple minutes later, this time he included an imgur link of the picture he was talking about.

As I looked at it, I was a bit weirded out. It was almost exactly the same picture, only with a different kid and family in it.

Everything else was the same. The angle, to position his family stood at, hell even the items in the window behind them, they were all identical.

This had to be some sort of stupid joke.

I sent the guy a message back stating that he almost got me and that his Photoshop skills were pretty good. Of course, he started to deny it, but I didn’t bother to reply anymore.

Soon another reply arrived, and the guy asked me if I had other pictures of the supposed trip. What the hell was the guy’s problem?

I knew when yet another message arrived.

When I opened it I read the following:

Hey, I’m sure you’re a bit crept out, sorry about that. Do you have any pictures similar to the ones below?

Attached to the message were half a dozen imgur links.

When I clicked the first one, a feeling of recognition flooded over me. I took out the album of my old family trip again.

I looked at the picture on the screen. It was of a young boy sitting on a bench with his mother in the middle of a park. Leaves littered the grass, and there was a small fountain in the background.

When I looked at the pictures of my family trip, I started shivering. There it was again, an exact duplicate. There were the leaves, there was the fountain, and there was the bench in the park. The only differences were my mom and me.

What the fuck was going on here?

I went and clicked through the rest of the imgur links and with each one my head started to spin more. They were all exactly the same. The only difference was the people in the pictures.

Was this some kind of sick joke someone was playing? But how would he have gotten a hold of the pictures?

I wrote him back asking how the hell he did it. He replied that that’s what he was supposed to ask. Ok, this was getting weird, really weird.

For a moment I wondered if it might all be a coincidence. Maybe the two of us were there the same day? Those things can happen, right? I opened his pictures again and started to search for the tiniest differences, but there was nothing.

Then I got an idea. It was outlandish, silly even, but there was this nagging feeling in the back of my head. I sent him a picture of yet another trip me and my parents had taken. This one had led us to a different town in Southern Germany.

I was antsy as I waited for a reply. I refreshed the page again and again. After a couple of minutes, the red message sign popped up. I clicked it instantly.

There’s something incredibly weird going on here. Why do you have that picture as well? I’ve got the same one in front of me right now!

Attached to it was yet another imgur link. When I clicked it my eyes grew wide. It was the same picture. The only difference was that my dad and I were replaced by him and his dad. Everything else was the same.

I replied to him and included my version of the picture. For a long while, I got no answer. It was half an hour later that I finally got one.

We should meet. I don’t know what’s going on, but this must be somehow connected.

Should I really meet this guy? Once more I thought about the possibility of this all being a sick joke, but it made no sense. All the pictures here were from an old fashioned, analog camera. They’d never been digitized in any way. So how the hell would this guy have them? Once more I looked over all of them again. This situation was so utterly bizarre.

I had to figure out what the hell was going on here, so I finally agreed to meet the guy.

He wrote me back his address and we soon arranged on a time to meet. He urged me to bring any pictures similar to the ones I’d sent him. After looking through my old photo albums for a while, I decided to take a few that included various family trips.

It was about a week or so later that I set out to meet this guy. It was a three-hour car ride. I felt strange and apprehensive the whole time. Who the hell was he? For a moment the idea of a long lost brother popped into my mind, but it made no sense at all. After that, I came up with more abstruse ideas. What if he was some sort of doppelganger or an alternate version of myself? No, this is not a freaking science-fiction movie. Calm down, you idiot.

When I finally arrived, I was relieved to find that the guy’s house looked completely different from my own. Still, it took me a while to get out of my car.

After I rang the doorbell, a chubby guy, almost twice my age opened the door. He was as surprised as me when he saw how different the two of us were.

“Are you Michael?” I asked.

“You must be Steven, right?”

I nodded.

“Well come in, did you bring the pictures?”

“Yeah, I brought a whole stack of them.”

This guy’s place was messy, seriously messy. It looked as if it had been weeks, if not months since he’d last cleaned. He didn’t even seem to care as he led me to his living room. I looked up when I saw that the whole side of the room was taken up by a giant desk. Multiple computers, monitors and an assortment of tools covered it.

When he noticed my stares, he showed me an awkward smile.

“Oh, sorry about that, I guess I’m a bit obsessed with the whole computer and internet thing. It’s where I do most of my work anyways.”

“Oh, so you’re a programmer?”

“Something like that, yeah,” the guy mumbled.

“Alright. Well, I got the pictures, so what do you think is going on here?”

The guy laughed for a bit. “To be honest, I’ve got no clue. I thought it might be some weird coincidence, but there are too many things that don’t add up. When did you say you and your parents visit that restaurant again?”

“I think it was back in 2005.”

“Right, and you’re how old?”

“Twenty four. What does this have to do with anything?”

“Well, it’s because I’m thirty-six and I took that same trip back in 1992.”

I had heard what he’d said, but I didn’t understand. How the hell could the pictures be identical if they were thirteen years apart?

“You got it, right? So how the hell is any of this possible? That other picture you sent me. When were you there?”

“Hold on,” I opened my backpack and took out the photo albums. “It should be here somewhere,” I said as I started to look through them. “Ah, here it is. Let me see… that one was back in 2002.”

Michael grimaced. “Same trip, only in 1990.”

“Freaking hell, what is going on here?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he rummaged through a cupboard and brought out stacks upon stacks of pictures.

“Well then, let’s see if there’s more.”

In the next hour, the two of us went through all our pictures and compared our various trips. The result was that all of them were the same. At first, we were utterly horrified and crept out, but in time the sheer surreality of the situation pushed us into a state of apathy. We went from picture to picture and compared them. Every once in a while one of us would laugh a little or shake his head, nothing more.

“So, what about your parents, how are they doing?” I asked as I put another picture back into one of my albums.

“Both dead, they died about two years ago.”

“In a car accident?!”

Michael looked up at me, puzzled. “No, they both died in a fire.”

“Oh god, for a second I thought,” but then I shook my head.

“No, what is it?”

I sighed. “Well, mine died two years ago in a car accident. For a moment I thought it might have been the same for yours. I don’t know anymore. This is all way too strange.”

Michael said nothing.

In the end, there wasn’t much the two of us could do at the moment. We were both way too confused, and we didn’t have much to go on about. Our names were different, our birth dates and birth places were different, and our parents weren’t related in any way. For a while, we made wild guesses what could be going on, but it was all nonsense.

When afternoon turned into evening, I decided it was time to make my way back home. Before I did though, we exchanged phone numbers and emails, in case one of us would find out anything.

Michael also took copies of some of my pictures and told me he’d have a look online. He knew certain people that could find out if any of the images were doctored with.

Only when I was in my car and drove home did I fully realize how bizarre everything was that had happened. The more I thought about it I felt anxious, sweaty, almost sick.

Once at home, I went to bed right away, but sleep didn’t come easy. My dreams were haunted by doppelgangers and plunged me into weird alternate realities. When morning finally came I was more tired and exhausted than the day before.

I went to work, but I was barely functioning. It was in the early evening that I got a text from Michael, telling me to check my email. He’d got some news for me.

For the first time that day I was wide awake. I signed into my email and opened the one Michael had sent me.

In the email, he told me that someone had gotten back to him about the pictures. It was an older man from Russia, who wrote he used to work in a print media company in the Soviet Union. He remembered the picture right away.

I looked up, what the hell? The Soviet Union?

The man wrote he recognized the scene in the two pictures right away. He used to work with the original version. It was a somewhat popular stock photo, often used in propaganda pieces of the late 70s. They all showed happy Russian families. Added to the email was the same picture once more. The family was a different one, but the scene was almost identical. There was one difference though. All the German in the picture was replaced by words in the Cyrillic alphabet.

How the hell was this possible? How the hell were my parents and me in a picture from a Russian propaganda piece? Then I realized it. There was only one way. The picture of my parents and me, it had to be… fake.

With shaking hands I went through the photo albums again, looking at all the pictures of my parents and me. How many of them were actually real? How many were fake?

Yet there was something else that slowly crept into my mind. Who had faked them and most importantly, why?

I was taken from my thoughts when my phone started to ring. It was Michael.

“It’s not only that picture,” he said in a shaken voice.

“Wait, hold on, what do you mean?”

“Remember the trip to the lake? Another stock photo. Same about the one to the museum. Also stock photos.”

“But how? Why?”

“God if I know. I’m talking to this guy right now and sent him a few more. He says that most of the pictures are taken from some photo series about Soviet towns. There are some though he has no clue about. He noted that almost all of them looked like stock photos or have been doctored with though.

“You’re trying to tell me that all the pictures here,” I broke up. I couldn’t say it.

“Yeah, they’re all fake,” Michael finished the sentence for me.

“But what the hell does it mean? That’s my life, I mean, our lives! How can someone fake all this?”

I got no answer from the other end of the line. I only heard heavy, shaky breathing.

“I don’t know. I really don’t. I’m going to keep talking to this guy though, and I’ll see if I can find out anything else.”

“Hey, Michael, what are you,” but I didn’t get to finish as he hung up.

“Fucking hell!” I cursed.

For the next days, I was unable to do anything. I went through all the pictures and photo albums again. If all those were fake, then why did I have memories of the trips? How the hell could I remember visiting a freaking museum in the middle of Russia?

Finally, I took out a picture of my parents. It was two years ago, wasn’t it? Memories of the police arriving at the door, the funeral, it was all still on my mind.

Then I started to think about the funeral. For the first time, I really began to think about it. When exactly had it been? I knew it was two years ago, but what day? What month? Where had it been? It must’ve been in this town right? I mean that’s where I grew up.

I shook my head. I was out of it. I’d barely slept, and my mind was fuzzy. Of course, it had been here, right? If I went to the graveyard, I’d find their grave right there. Suddenly a cold shower went down my spine. Where exactly was their grave?

I was about to set out when my phone rang again. It was Michael once more. I answered right away.

“You found anything new?” Nothing. All I heard was shaky breathing and sobbing.

“Hello? Michael? You alright?”

“I did, but no, sorry Steve, I’m sorry. Please, leave this thing alone. It’s not worth it. Just forget you ever found out about it. Nothing good will come from it.”

With that, he hung up. When I tried to call him again, it went straight to voice mail. I didn’t get what was going on.

I wrote him a message on Reddit, then later an email, but I never got an answer.

I don’t know how often I tried to call him. Eventually, I went to bed.

It was a few days later, almost by sheer accident, that I saw Michael’s picture in a German tabloid. A few days ago, late in the evening, a man in his mid-thirties had jumped to his death.

My jaw dropped, and I stared at the article with wide eyes. What the hell was going on? What the hell had Michael found out that drove him to do this?

I felt goosebumps all over my arms, and for a moment a surge of anxiety flushed over me. What had Michael found out that was so terrible?

I remembered his last words. I was hearing them over and over in my head during my three-hour car ride to his home.

The place was dark and quiet but looked exactly the same.

I didn’t know what I was even doing, but I wanted, no, I needed to know what the hell was going on.

The front door was locked as I’d expected, but I found a cracked window that I could open up.

I sneaked inside and made my way through the messy place until I was back in his living room. Half of his computers were trashed. Freaking hell. Did he know I’d come here?

Then I found a stack of papers on the floor. Some were printouts of stock photos, the others were covered in text.

When I picked them up, they looked like scientific documents.

STAGE 7 – MEMORY ALTERATION

Test subjects are infused with artificial memories to create the illusion of a normal life.

What the hell was this? I went through the stack and checked another one.

STAGE 3 – GROWTH ACCELERATION

 Gen manipulation ensures maturity of test subjects in only a fraction of normal human growth period.

What was I reading? This made no sense. I checked the rest of them, but they were all the same. STAGE 4 – MIND EXHILARATION, STAGE 8 – SOCIAL BEHAVIOUR THERAPY, and on it went. I looked through the whole stack until I found the last one.

STAGE 13 – PROJECT TERMINATION AND FUTURE DEVELOPMENTS

Test subjects show insufficient results. Project deemed unsuccessful and to be terminated immediately. Euthanasia of remaining test subjects considered unnecessary. To be kept under surveillance to gather information about adaptability to society and social norms.

What the hell was this shit? I didn’t understand any of it. When I checked the date though I saw that this last document was from early 2017. That was the same year my parents had died.

My head was spinning. This couldn’t be real, could it?

I went through the stack once again to read more, but then I heard something. The front door was opened, and there was the shuffling of heavy feet.

“… think he told the other subject?” I heard a voice say.

“No. The logs show that he attempted contact, but didn’t share anything.”

I froze. Shit, who the hell was this? When the heavy steps got closer, I told myself I had to get out of there. As fast and as quiet as I could I made my way back to the window and got out.

It wasn’t even a minute later that I drove off. I had no freaking idea what I’d just witnessed. Could any of this be real? This had to be a sick joke, hadn’t it? But then what about those damned documents that Michael had found?

I don’t remember much about my drive home. I was entirely out of it. I still am.

Once I was home, I went through my whole place to find any sort of information about my parents. There’s nothing though. They seem to only exist in my memories and these old photos. The more I think about it, the more I realize how much I don’t know about them. When were they born? How old had they been? Did they get married and if so, when?

As I’m sitting here typing this out, I don’t know what to think? Is any of this real? Are my memories real?

Am I even a real person?

Toby

A couple of weeks ago I stumbled upon a strange post on 4chan’s x/ board.

The OP of the thread said that he found some strange comments under random articles online. No one had reacted to the thread yet, so I decided to check it out.

For as long as I can think back I’ve been scouring the internet for weird and strange things. To be honest, I didn’t believe there was much to it, but I was kind of bored.

The comment itself was nothing but gibberish. It made no sense at all:

Maryland strange river lost in dark cute dogs love nature walk long Tokyo city many times want Japan all high no one flowers birds like play inside dark no want here out

I was hoping it might be some strange cryptic message, but it looked more like someone had been toying around with Google translate. I played around with it a bit, but I soon lost interest.

I made a quick reply telling the poster that it was most likely nonsense.

Later on, I saw that the guy had posted once again. He wrote that he’d thought the same thing at first. After browsing through the blog though he found a variety of other similarly weird comments. All by the same poster. The posters name wasn’t normal either. It was merely a string of numbers.

All the comments were similar, utterly cryptic and made no sense at all.

We soon started to talk on discord, since 4chan can be a bitch about link sharing.

He sent me some of the articles with comments but told me there were dozens more on that specific blog. He’d even found others all over the internet. At first, he thought it completely random, but there seemed to be a pattern. All of the comments were below articles about travel, nature, and animals.

Our conversation continued on for a while, and we started to make wild guesses what was going on. Our theories were as outlandish as they were dumb, but at least we had a bit of fun and could let our imagination run wild. By then it was pretty late though, so I went to bed.

It was the next day that I found a couple more messages from my new friend on discord. The first few were about other blogs and websites he’d found comments under.

The last message was where things got interesting. He said he’d discovered a link or at least part of a URL under some of the comments. After toying around with them for hours, he somehow figured out the full URL. I’ve no clue how he did it.

The page took forever to load. Once it was done, it was nothing but a list of URLs. When I clicked one of them, it sent me to yet another article with a similar comment below. That’s when I was hooked.

There had to be something going on here. As I started to scroll down the page, I realized that there were hundreds if not thousands of articles. Every single one I clicked had one of those weird comments.

It was by sheer accident and wild clicking that I found something else.

I was sent to a blank page with nothing but a simple entry field on it. There was no description on the page, no text, nothing. Only this one simple entry field.

When I clicked it, I saw that I could type something into it.

I typed a simple ‘hello’ and pressed Enter to see what would happen.

A second after I’d sent my message a ‘hello’ popped up on the screen below the field.

‘Who are you?’ I typed into the box.

Another short little pause before I got a simple ‘I don’t know.’

It was evident that I was dealing with some sort of chat bot similar to Cleverbot. I toyed around with the thing for a bit. While most messages prompted normal or silly answers, some were a bit weirder.

Here are a few of the answers I got:

What’s your name? – Toby

How old are you? – Time is not real where I am

Do you like books? – I cannot see

Where were you last night? – In your mom xD

At first, I thought it was merely programmed so that specific keywords would trigger these weird cryptic messages. Then I decided to ask some of the questions again to see what answers I’d get now. This time, they were different.

How old are you? – 9

Where were you last night? – In the dark

So far it was nothing too weird. I reasoned that it was a less sophisticated version of Cleverbot. I asked a few more questions, but the answers were mostly silly and nonsensical. Then I got yet another cryptic one:

Where are you? – In a different place one that exists nowhere

I really checked it off as a shitty AI, and that was it for me. There was one last reply though that sent a shiver down my spine:

Are you alone – I’m never alone the men in the walls are always watching

Reading something like this out of nowhere can be a bit creepy, unsettling even. Especially when it’s the middle of the night, and you are all by yourself. I decided to ask another question:

Who are the men in the walls? – You are in a wall

Well, guess it’s back to nonsense. It was at this point that I stopped toying with it.

I sent a quick message to my new friend about my findings, and after that I watched a couple of YouTube videos and went to bed.

When I got up, I had a few new messages. The guy wrote that he thought the same thing as me. Nothing but a shitty chatbot that someone must have put together. It might even incorporate Cleverbot and added in random cryptic messages every once in a while. Most likely to fuck with people who looked a bit too deep into things.

To be honest, I was a bit disappointed. I’d really hoped this was something more interesting.

It was sheer boredom that sent me back to the chatbot once again later that evening. Here are a few of the interactions I had with it:

Hello chatbot. – I’m different now

Another strange message. Guess I’ll bite.

Different from what? – From the men in the walls

There it was again.

Who are the men in the walls? – Watching

Watching you? – No I’m watching you

Why? – So you don’t steal my stuff xD

The rest continued on similarly. Most of the replies I got were just like the ones you’d get from Cleverbot.

That men in the walls comment stuck with me though. I found myself going back to the bot again and again.

I don’t know why, but I decided to put down all the strange or cryptic replies I got from the bot and put them into a document. They didn’t appear often, but after a while, they all seemed to be… similar. Here are the ones I got later that evening:

Do you like movies? – I am trapped

Why are you trapped? – The men in the walls trapped me

What’s your name? – Toby

Are you a bot? – I do not want to be

Don’t want to be what? – Do not want to be here

Don’t want to be where? – Do not want to be here

Do you like movies? – Do not want to be here

This went on for a while. Great, I thought, I broke the damned thing. I must’ve asked more than a dozen questions, and all I got for an answer was the same Do not want to be here. Finally, though I got a different reply:

Why are you there? – The men in the walls made me here

This was getting creepy and seriously interesting.

Why did the men in the walls put you there? – Calculations

What calculations? – I don’t like math

What calculations do you do? – Math is stupid xD

After that, the bot’s replies had once more deteriorated. Whatever I tried I only got nonsense.

I decided to try some of the messages I’d sent the bot before that had gotten me weird or cryptic messages. If only to see how it would react.

How old are you? – There is no time here

Where are you? – In the dark

What’s your name? – Toooooby

How old are you? – 9

Can you see? – I can do nothing

Why can’t you? – Because the men in the walls trapped me in a computer

Okay, we’ve officially crossed the border into bizarro land.

Why did they trap you? – No you are trapped

Why did the men in the walls trap you? – To calculate

I sat there reading through all the messages I’d sent so far, and I couldn’t help but be crept out. There were so many that made no sense, but some stuck out:

In the dark. Toby. 9. Trapped in a computer. To do calculations. I can do nothing. Time is not real where I am. Because the men in the walls trapped me in a computer.

It was just nonsense. It had to be. Someone was probably sitting at home, sliding me these weird messages and laughing their ass off. Yet, I tried again.

What are you? – Human

No you’re a bot – Help me

What do you mean? – Help me

Why do you need help? – HELP ME

Are you Toby? – HELP ME

Whatever I entered now, all I got was HELP ME. It was at this point that I closed off the page. I shook my head, yet I couldn’t help but shiver. Someone was definitely doing a great job at scaring random people on the internet with this thing.

That day I sent my new friend a message about the weird things I’d encountered on the chatbot. I didn’t wait for an answer and went to bed.

When I checked my messages the next day, I got one by him.

“Interesting, but the bot seems to be gone now. There’s only a message on the page that’s saying the bot is discontinued,” I read.

After I read his message I quickly opened the chatbot again, but he was right, the entry field was gone. Instead, the only thing on the page now was simple text.

Thank you for participating in the testing of our new AI bot. Your data will be very useful in our further development. The version of the bot you used has been retired. We’ll be happy to be back with a newer version in the future.

Well, I thought, that’s that. I closed the page, but something didn’t feel right. Why the HELP ME? Why all those weird messages. Had the bot learned it from someone else? I’d never triggered a reply like HELP ME or I AM TRAPPED from Cleverbot though.

I went back to the page that contained the URL list. I scrolled around, but as I’d expected there was nothing new. Only the same old links: nationalgeographic.co.uk‎, wanderlust.co, nomadicmatt.com, attackofthecute.com, and other similar pages.

I slowly scrolled through them all. It was after almost half an hour that I found a different URL that was buried between the rest of them.

The domain name was weird, consisting only of random numbers and letters. I clicked the link and a new page opened up. At first, it was just a blank page again, but it was still loading.

After minutes of waiting the page finally loaded. I had no clue what it was though. It seemed to be a scientific document.

As I scrolled through it, I had no idea what I was reading. There was so much scientific mumbo-jumbo.

The little I understood made it clear that it was a document about AI programming. There were many chapters about topics like neural networks, game theory, and deep learning. As much as I tried to wrap my brain around it, I just couldn’t.

There was one part though that caught my interest. In the later chapters, the topic of man-machine combinations was mentioned. It talked at length about the process of combining the human brain with a computer-based neural network to create a more advanced AI. I read part of it, but it all read like a freaking science-fiction novel. The more I read, the more my head started to hurt.

When I reached the end of the document I found hundreds of comments. The first one was from the beginning of 2014. All of them were written in a similar scientific fashion. Some mentioned different stages and iterations of some weird project. It took me minutes before I got to the current year. When I finally reached the end, I found one last comment, written just the night before:

HELP ME

I stared at it for a long time. So many things were on my mind, but none made sense.

I scrolled up and down in the document again to read more of it. It wasn’t long before the page refreshed itself and I got a 404 – Page not found error.

When I tried to reaccess the link list, none of the links seemed to be working anymore. When I refreshed the page, I got the same result 404 – Page not found. The same is true for the page of the chatbot now.

I don’t know what I stumbled upon there. I don’t know if I stumbled upon anything there at all.

That’s why I’m writing this down. Maybe some of you can help me to make a bit more sense of it.


The Experience of a Lifetime

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.


Something Unknown Is out There in the Alps

I always liked to have a more secluded lifestyle, reclusive even.

It’s not that I have social anxiety or anything, I guess I’m just not a people person. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t hate other people, but I’d rather not be around them. I like solitude and quietness.

When an acquaintance offered to rent me his family’s mountain cabin for a few months, I agreed almost instantly.

The truth is, I’d been looking for an opportunity like this for a while now. Just a few months, out in the middle of nowhere to work on my poetry completely undisturbed. Unfortunately, I’d never found anything that fit my rather tight budget.

The cabin itself was located in a remote area of the Alps. There were some tourist spots nearby, but nothing within walking distance. The place was ideal for someone who wanted to be entirely on their own.

It sounded absolutely perfect.

I arrived at the cabin about a month ago. It was beautiful. I loved it the moment I set foot inside. While I settled in, I started a small fire to heat up the place.

For the first couple of days, I had a hard time writing anything worthwhile. All the lines I came up with didn’t feel right. Instead of brooding over my work, I decided to explore the outside area.

The snow-covered plains, the mountains, and the many forests painted a beautiful panorama. Out here things were different, untouched. I wandered around for hours and tried to absorb as much of nature’s beauty as I possibly could.

Work went well after this little trip outside. Nature had always been one of my prime inspirations.

From that day onward I’d often spend a good part of the day outside, going on extensive walks. Only when the sun started to set did I actually sit down and work on my poetry.

Many times I discovered the tracks of animals outside. Some were small, most likely left by rabbits, others were bigger, hinting at deer.

I rarely stumbled upon signs of other humans. There were a few lonely tracks here and there. They were most likely left by hikers or mountain climbers passing through the area. My acquaintance was right, I was completely alone out here.

That was until two weeks ago. I set out one day for another walk when I stumbled upon many new tracks. They were clearly human, but it had to be a whole group. Their tracks were chaotic, going here and there as if they were stumbling into one another. I frowned when I saw them and hoped that they were already gone and on their way.

As so often, luck wasn’t on my side.

It was a day later that I found more of the same tracks. They were as chaotic as before, but now they were much closer. Whoever they were, they seemed to linger around the area. Maybe they were camping out here for some reason. Once more I frowned. I went out here to get inspired not to see their stupid tracks all over the place. Worst of all, they didn’t seem to care about nature at all. They had almost left a clear path behind on their way through the woods. There were markings on some of the trees and branches, and twigs littered their path.

For the next couple of days, I found more and more signs of this ominous group. It was a bit strange though that I never saw any of them. I shrugged it off and decided it was best to ignore them.

When the noises started though, things took a turn for the worse.

When you live in a city, noises are a normal part of life. You know that it’s your neighbor or kids playing outside. Out here in the middle of nowhere, it was an entirely different story.

It was about eleven in the evening when the noise started. I sat at my desk with a mug of hot tea working on my latest poem. Suddenly I heard something outside. It was distant, but I could clearly make out voices outside.

I put my pen down and went to one of the windows. I cracked it and listened, but I couldn’t understand a word. They were yelling and shouting. What the hell were they up to?

For a moment I thought about yelling out in the night, but then I decided it was better to lay low. The noise went on for a while longer before it thankfully died down.

The next day I realized that the group hadn’t been out in the woods alone as I’d thought. No, the moment I stepped outside, I saw the many chaotic tracks right in front and all around the cabin. I couldn’t help but be crept out. Why had they come here? Had they watched me?

A bit unnerved I scanned the area and the woods around the cabin. Was someone nearby right now? I quickly went back inside.

I didn’t go for a walk that day. For the first time since I’d arrived, I realized that I was completely isolated. There was no one nearby at all.

For a moment I thought about calling the police, but what would I tell them? That I found a bunch of tracks outside in front of the cabin? Yeah right, they’d tell me to call them again if something actually happened. No way they’d come up here because of a few random tracks.

I was antsy all day, but when the sun set, I started to get more and more anxious. I tried to work, but the thought of someone watching the cabin made it almost impossible. Instead, I paced through the cabin, eyeing the area outside from the various windows. I saw nothing.

It was late in the evening when I heard the noise again. Once more I cracked the window and listened. There were steps outside, many of them as if the group was rushing through the snow. They were so close to the cabin! A few times I saw someone move outside, but it was too far away, hidden by the darkness of the night.

As I listened to their yells and shouts, it almost felt as if they were circling the cabin. Were they trying to find a way inside?

I rushed to the front door, making sure it was locked and then checked all the windows. During all this time the frantic movement and the shouting outside continued.

Finally, I’d had it and called the cops. I told them exactly what was going on and that I was scared they might break into the cabin.

It was about half an hour later that I saw the distant headlights of the police car. As soon as the car got closer, the shouting stopped, and the footsteps turned into nothing more than a faint echo.

The annoyance of the two police officers was evident as soon as I opened the door. I could imagine they weren’t all too happy to be out here in the middle of the night. I invited them inside and poured each of them a cup of tea. They didn’t touch it at all.

I carefully explained to them what had happened. The two of them listened, and I could soon see that their annoyance shifted to concern.

After I’d finished I led them outside and with their flashlights they scanned the area. There were so many tracks here by now. It was almost as if all the snow around the cabin had been flattened.

I could hear one of them grumbling something about damned tourists before they told me they’d have a look around the area. I thanked them multiple times and returned back inside.

It was an hour or so later that the two of them returned. They told me they’d found nothing but more of the same tracks. They led in circles through the forest, but there was no hint of the group I’d described.

It was most likely a bunch of tourists trying to cause a bit of trouble. That type of thing had happened before. Most likely some college kids who were out here drinking and having a bit too much fun. Once someone calls the police though, they know it’s time to knock it off.

They told this was most likely the end of it. The group was most likely on their way and wouldn’t disturb me anymore. Before they left one of them handed me his number and told me to give him a ring should they be back.

Once again I thanked them, but somehow their words didn’t feel too reassuring. Somehow I felt as if they were just trying to convince me nothing was wrong, so they could finally get out of here. I was up for hours after they’d left. Only when morning came did I feel comfortable enough to go to sleep.

When I got up, I thought about packing my things and leaving. Then I told myself that this stay here had been something I’d looked forward to for years. Should I really let a bunch of stupid college kids ruin it for me? No, I decided to stay.

By now I wish I’d left. I really wish I had.

For the whole day, I went from window to window watching the woods outside. Eventually, I ventured out myself to have a look around the cabin. Who knows, maybe they were hiding nearby. The only thing I found was the tracks from last night. By now they were almost completely buried under the new snow.

I couldn’t even think of my work anymore. My mind was entirely absorbed by watching the area outside.

As day turned to night, I hoped that the police had been right. Time passed and soon midnight arrived without any noise. The police must have scared them off.

I’d finally calmed down and was about to heat up some tea when I heard something. It was the sound of footsteps in the snow. There were so many of them, as if dozens of people were out there. How big was this damned group?

I was about to call the police when something heavy hit the cabin. What the hell was going on out there? What were these assholes doing?

I rushed to one of the windows, but only caught a glimpse of someone staggering off into the darkness. I waited to see if they’d be back, but soon there was another loud bang from the other side of the cabin.

The shouts started again, or better the screams. They sounded… different now. Before they had seemed excited, but now they sounded agitated almost terrified.

For a moment I stood there, shivering. What the hell was going on out there?

Once more I heard loud screams, this time it was almost as if someone was calling for help. Where they trying to trick me?

I went to the window and saw something again. People were moving outside, but I couldn’t see it clearly. Their movement looked strange, almost as if they were stumbling through the snow.

Shit, I couldn’t see a thing in the darkness.

Finally, I opened the window and called out to whoever was out there.

“What’s going on? You alright out-” I broke off as the source of the noise revealed itself and started moving towards me.

The phone slipped from my hands, and I stumbled backward. What was out there was indeed a group of people or something resembling one. There were too many legs, too many arms. It was a twisting, writhing mess of human limbs and bodies all entangled into one another. For a moment I saw stitches all over it, fusing bodies and limbs together into one giant abomination.

Then I saw the faces. Theirs were blind, sewed shut and their mouths wide open. Once more they started screaming at me. No, those had never been screams of excitement, those were screams of pure terror. I was on the ground, staring at the window in front of me in sheer disbelief.

Moments later the group, no the thing, crashed against the wall of the cabin. A rain of glass exploded over me, and I saw dozens of arms reaching out for me.

“No! Leave me the fuck alone!” I screamed as I frantically crawled backward.

All the things heads turned right into my direction. Again the thing pressed itself against the small window opening. I saw hands clinging to the window frame, and the wall as the creature tried to push itself inside. The mouths opened once more screaming in terror again, and for the first time, I understood their words.

‘Help us.’

I could only watch as the thing continued its struggle more and more. Arms reached inside, pushing, twisting, ripping skin and flesh apart as the thing desperately tried to get inside. Then it suddenly stopped moving. Moments later it let out another bloodcurdling scream before it rushed off into the darkness.

I don’t know how long I sat on the floor. I was so utterly terrified that I just couldn’t move.

When I finally got to my feet, my legs were weak and shaky. I’d barely taken a few steps before they gave way. What the fuck had this thing been? How the hell can something like that even exist?

For long minutes I lay on the floor, shaking, as the images of the abomination haunted my mind again and again. And its screams.

Oh dear god, what the hell was this?

When I got up, I was nervous and restless. I had to walk through the cabin to keep the panic at bay. Every once in a while I scanned the window for any signs of the creature, but it was gone. If for good, I couldn’t tell.

After a while, I started questioning myself. Had, no, could this even be real? Maybe I was suffering from cabin fever or whatever people out here get. What if my paranoia had conjured up this twisted creature? As I turned around to the window though, I saw the proof right there.

The pieces of glass on the floor, the broken window and the scratches all over the cabin wall.

At this point, I remembered my phone. I looked around in confusion before I saw it right below the window. I took a step towards it but then froze. What if that thing was still around? No, it had run off, I told myself. Once more I anxiously listened for noises outside. All was quiet.

I rushed forward, closed my hands around the phone and almost threw myself back.

“Oh thank god,” I said out loud when I saw it was still working.

It was right at this time that I heard the sound of distant steps again.

I dialed the cops right away and told them that something out here was after me. I must’ve sounded like a total nutcase. They asked me if it was those college kids again. Instead of answering, I pleaded with them to come out here and save me. They told me to calm down, to stay indoors and that they’d be here as quick as possible.

Waiting was pure torture. I listened to every sound. Even the snow falling from the roof was enough to send another surge of panic into my brain. I still couldn’t stand still. Once more I paced through the cabin.

Where the hell are they? What takes them so long? Goddamnit! When I checked my phone, I saw that it hadn’t even been half an hour yet, but to me, it had felt like an eternity. Shit, can’t they hurry up? What if that thing comes back?

Those steps outside, they were getting closer. They weren’t those of multiple legs. They weren’t frantic and chaotic. No, they were slow and deliberate. Oh please tell me it’s the police, please.

Suddenly I heard something on the wall of the cabin again. It was as if something metallic was slowly scratched alongside the wall outside.

I almost flipped out when I heard it. This was not normal. I cowered in fear at the sound and closed my eyes. Make it go away, please make this thing go away.

I was ripped from my terror by a knock on one of the intact windows of the cabin. The police, they finally made it! When I turned towards the window though, the blood froze in my veins.

Two huge, yellow eyes were staring at me, and long bony fingers were still knocking against the class. This was no police. This was no human. It was a giant, hulking figure that leaned down to look into the cabin. When I saw its face, I was reminded of the masks of plague doctors, but it was no mask. It was a grown together mess of skin, flesh, and bone.

For a moment the creatures head moved away, and I saw that it was holding something long and thin in his hand. Was that a… giant needle?

Suddenly I heard a car driving up to the cabin. In an instant, the giant figure crooked its head at the source of the noise and with heavy steps it walked into the direction of the police car.

Moments later the frantic sway of the headlights reached the front windows of the cabin. I stumbled forward as I heard the screams of the two police officers.

Gunshots cut through the night, followed by the crunching of metal as the giant figure peeled the two men from the car. In horror, I watched as it scooped them up in his hand. I waited for it to crush them, but instead, it smiled and brought the needle to its mouth. Moments later it pushed it into the flesh of the first man.

When the screams of agony and terror reached my ears, the figure started to giggle. It was a high-pitched distorted sound. For a moment the terrible face turned and smiled towards me. Then it quietly walked off into the woods, sewing the two men in its grasp to one another.

This was an hour ago.

Since then I started writing this all out to keep myself from giving into utter despair. This was supposed to be a little getaway to work on my poetry, but it had turned into an absolute nightmare. Countless times I thought to make a run for it, but that thing is still out there. I can still hear its steps as it circles the cabin. There’s still the screams of the two police officers.

I know that this damned monstrosity is teasing me. Preying on me. Watching me.

The night is still long, and before it’s over, I know that this thing will be back.

I Wish I’d Never Met the Man Named Ivan Nikolayev

The passing of time is a strange thing.

“Uncle Mike’s died,” mom told me over the phone.

I was devastated, but not shocked. My great uncle Mike had been an old man, very old indeed. He was in his mid-nineties when he died.

I’d only ever met him when I was a kid, so my memory of the man wasn’t too clear. When my mom called me to give me the news of his death, I hadn’t seen him in almost a decade.

That’s the reason I was so surprised to find that the old man had left something for me. It was an old, rusty metal box.

I carefully opened the lid. I’m not going to lie, I hoped he’d left me something interesting, knowing he was quite a collector. What I was greeted with was an assortment of strange items though.

The first was a black and white photograph of two people, dating back to the early 30s. One of them I assumed must’ve been my great uncle in young years. The man next to him was quite a bit older. He had short dark hair and a scar on the left side of his face. Probably his father or another relative, I thought. I put the picture aside after a few moments.

The next one was a simple postcard. It was a typical one from the German Democratic Republic, depicting the World Clock in Berlin. When I checked the back the only thing written on it was the name ‘Struganow.’

“Why is this postcard in here?” I wondered.

The other items all seemed to be products of the same period. One was an old portable radio, one an old egg whisk that appeared to have been part of a hand blender and there were a few metal badges. Why was this stuff in here? Was it some sort of elaborate joke? I mean, an egg whisk for Christ’s sake.

Uncle Mike even told me he’d never been a big fan of the era and was more than happy when German reunited.

The last item I found stored away below the rest was an old map. When I checked the print date, it was from the late years of the Weimar Republic. This made even less sense.

I took everything out of the box and searched for a note that would explain the weird collection. I found nothing.

When I opened the map, I saw that it was a map of his old home area or better the electoral district it used to belong to. I scanned it halfheartedly and found a few marks on it. They were all located on an empty patch of land. The longer I stared at it, the more frustrated I became. This was silly. I shook my head and put everything back in the box.

I kept the box nonetheless. Not because I thought any of the contents were particularly interesting, but as a sort of memorabilia of my late uncle. For years the box was merely stowed away on my shelf collecting dust.

I’d all but forgotten about its content when I got to know professor Neumann years later. By the time I was studying physics at university. Professor Neumann was a brilliant man who wasn’t shy of interacting with his students. Countless times he and a small group of students, including me sat together at our cafeteria.

Professor Neumann used to work as a researcher for the GDR and only started teaching after the reunion. Most of us laughed a bit when he mentioned the period, and a few asked what he’d been doing at the time. Not like the GDR made any bound breaking discoveries or developments.

The old man only smiled at that.

“We weren’t as useless as you might think, Markus,” he said to me. “If we put our minds together, we were still able to do astonishing feats. The problem was that we never got enough funding. We were always stuck working with second or third-grade equipment. Everything else the Russians took for themselves.”

“All for the motherland,” he said grimacing.

It was on another evening that I got together with the old man. He’d finished his last lecture for the day, and I’d approached him about one of the problems he’d discussed. While we walked to his office, he carefully reiterated things to me. Soon enough, he trailed off and started talking about other things. As we sat in his office, we soon got to talk about the GDR again. It seemed to be one of his favorite topics.

He’d just told me a story about Berlin and the World Clock when I suddenly remembered the odd box my uncle had left me.

Half joking I told him about the weird metal box on my shelf and the assortment of strange GDR things inside. The man laughed at first, but when I mentioned the items, he looked up, a serious look on his face.

“Wait, hold on a second, what items did you say your uncle had left in there?”

“It’s been so long. I’m not sure, there was a postcard, a portable radio a few metal badges oh and of course a freaking egg whisk. No clue what’s up with that.”

“An egg whisk?”

I nodded.

“Now, it might be nothing, but would you mind bringing those and showing them to me?”

“Well, sure, no problem. It’s only collecting dust anyways, but why do you want to see them?”

The man shook his head.

“It’s probably nothing, I’ve just got this stupid idea on my mind that’s all.”

I looked at him a bit confused, but then I shrugged and let it slide. Who knows, maybe he collects odd things as well. After all, he really seems to be into the GDR era and all that.

It was a few days later that I paid the professor another visit to his office. He looked up, surprised to see me, but welcomed me inside.

“So, what brings you here? Is it about that assignment for theoretical physics?”

“I brought the box. You said you wanted to see the stuff my uncle collected, right?”

In an instant, the man changed from half asleep to excited.

“Well, then don’t let me wait, let me see, let me see!”

I was yet again a bit confused by his reaction and handed him the box.

He opened the lid and then scanned the assortment of things inside. He opened up the map scanning the area and the marks curiously before he put it back down. After a while, his eyes grew wide.

“It can’t be,” he mumbled as he took out the postcard.

“My god.” He inhaled sharply, put his hand to his mouth and shook his head again and again.

“Struganow,” he whispered.

“What is it, professor?”

The man slowly looked up, almost as if he’d forgotten that I was even in the room. For a moment he looked at me but didn’t say a word.

“Hold on, I’ve got to look something up. Maybe he’s still…” The rest was inaudible as the man mumbled again. He seemed to be all over the place in his excitement because of… something.

I waited in my chair as the professor started to go through his notebooks. He picked up the phone in his office and quickly dialed a number. It was only moments later that he put it back down, cursing under his breath.

“Professor? What’s going on?”

Finally, the man seemed to have calmed down a bit and took a seat in his chair again. The postcard was still laying in front of him.

“Back in the day, when I worked as a researcher, we did a few, well, strange experiments you could say. It might sound like science-fiction to you, but during the Cold War Russia was interested in all sorts of weird things. One of them was time travel.”

I looked up and couldn’t help but laugh a bit.

“See, that’s exactly the reaction I’d expected. Now don’t get me wrong, I’d react exactly like you if I hadn’t worked on that project back then.”

“Alright, hold on, are you telling me you worked on a freaking time machine for the Soviets back in the day?”

A smile showed on the professor’s face.

“Exactly. But as you can imagine, it never worked. Well, at least that’s what everyone believed, but this here, these objects, I think it’s the ones we used in the later experiments.”

What the hell was he talking about? This had to be a joke. I’d never heard the man pull one before, but there was no other way. I started laughing.

“You almost got me there, professor, almost.”

“No,” he started shaking his head, “don’t you get it? If these things are really… then we have proof! I’ve got to tell Ivan I’ve got to show him. My god, if it really…”

I stared at the man. This was both the lamest and the most drawn-out attempt of a joke I’d ever seen.

The professor started to search through his many notebooks and documents again. Finally, he seemed to have found what he was looking for.

“I knew I had it written down somewhere,” he said grinning.

“What’s that now?”

“Say, Markus, do you want to find out where those items in your box came from?”

It was a few days later that I found myself in a car with Professor Neumann. We were on the way to his old research laboratory, the last address of his colleague Ivan Nikolayev.

“I’m really not sure if we’re going to find anything there, I’m sure he’s returned to Russia by now, but still,” the professor said.

I couldn’t believe that I went through with this whole thing. I’d planned to spend the weekend with friends, and now I found myself on a road trip with my university professor. Worse even, it was to figure out if his freaking time machine had worked of all things. It was ridiculous.

During the four-hour long car ride, Professor Neumann explained a lot of things to me. He almost talked the entire time. He went on about politics during the time of his and Ivan’s experiments. Moscow back then tried to desperately get ahead of America.

“Our project wasn’t the only one of its kind. They had a lot of these weird, secret projects, but I guess none of them ever brought them any results. Well, maybe one of them did after all. Too bad it’s a bit too late for these old Soviets.”

At other times he talked about the project. He tried to explain the theoretical background to me, but most of it went way over my head. By the time I was in my third semester of physics. I knew most of the terms he referred to but didn’t understand a thing about the principles he and Ivan employed. I just drove my car, dumbfounded, yet fascinated. Of course, I wasn’t convinced any of this was real.

When we finally arrived at the town, I could tell that the reunion hadn’t been kind to it. Sure there were some modern buildings, but most were the typical, old Soviet ones. Many looked neglected and most likely hadn’t been renovated in decades. Sure there was a new shopping mall in the center of town, but the rest felt like a relic of old times.

The address the old man had written down led us to a huge, old building complex. The professor’s eyes lit up when he saw the place.

“My god, it’s still standing,” he said in a low voice.

After I’d parked the car, we made our way towards the front entrance. The place really was huge, almost gigantic. By now though, it looked almost completely abandoned. Back in the day, the property seemed to have been protected by a metal fence, but now it stood wide open.

While I looked in awe at the size of the building, the professor hurried along towards the front entrance. I almost had to run to keep up with the old man.

“Can’t believe they left it like that, I was sure they’d torn it all down by now,” he said as he stepped to the front door.

I didn’t feel too happy about stepping inside with all the ‘No Trespassing’ signs around.

As soon as the professor pushed the door open some sort of alarm started to ring. I cursed out loud and was about to run off when it stopped as soon as it had begun.

A minute later a man as old as the professor came towards the door.

“Who the hell are you? Are you blind? Can’t you read the signs?” the man cursed at us in a heavy Russian accent. He broke up when his eyes focused on the professor.

“Sebastian?”

“As god made him, old friend. What are you still doing here? I’d have thought you’d run back to Mother Russia a long time ago.”

Both of them started to laugh and went forward to hug each other. I felt a bit awkward standing next to them.

“Well, what brings you here? I’m sure you’re not just here to say hello, right?”

“My god, you’re right Ivan! I’m here because of the machine. It might have worked after all!”

“What are you… wait you mean, THAT machine? What the hell are you talking about? We tried all the time, I tried, but it never-“

“There might be prove! Markus, you did bring the box like I told you, didn’t you?”

I nodded. Yet again I felt a bit awkward as both of them stared at me with wide eyes.

“Hold on, yes, here it is.” The moment I’d taken it out of my backpack the professor almost ripped it from my hands.

He opened it quickly and took out the postcard handing it to his friend.

His reaction was exactly the same as the professor’s had been a few days ago. His eyes grew wide, his mouth opened and he looked from the professor to me and back to the professor.

“Struganow,” Ivan said. His hands were shaking as he looked down at the postcard once more. His shock lasted for only a few moments though, before it was replaced by excitement.

He put the postcard back and took a look at each of the other items individually. At last, he took hold of the old portable radio.

“Come on Sebastian, come on, we’ve got to see if it’s true, you too young man, come on!”

Without waiting for an answer, the man rushed off into the complex. We followed him down a long corridor, then another one and then through a vast empty warehouse.

“Where are we going, professor?” I asked in a low voice.

“To my office, of course! That’s where I’ve got all my notes!” Ivan yelled back at us.

I wondered if it was a good idea to follow this strange guy along. God knows, he was acting weird. Who knows, maybe he’d snapped long ago and tried to lure us god knows where. When I looked over at the professor though, his face showed no doubt at all. He followed Ivan along with a bright smile on his face.

Soon enough Ivan announced that we’d made it. He pushed open the door we stepped into a barren looking office room. There was an old computer on a desk, a bookshelf and countless others filled with files and old data mediums.

“I can’t believe it, it’s still all here.” the professor reminisced.

“Well of course it is. After you left, someone had to take care of the place, you know.”

The professor laughed at that. “Well, I guess some things never change.”

Ivan put down the radio on his desk and started to search through the shelves.

“Well now, where did I put it… it should be..,. wait no, is it over there?”

I stood at the doorframe and watched the strange spectacle. Minutes passed as the strange Russian man searched through his office.

“Here it is!” he finally exclaimed. “Look at this Sebastian!”

“It can’t be, is this-?”

“It’s the same! The same radio!”

“What’s so great about those radios? I bet there are hundreds of thousands of them out there,” I mumbled.

“No, young man! You don’t know what I’m… just come over here! See that?” he asked as he pointed at a couple of Russian letters carved into the plastic of his radio.

“So?”

“Now look at that!”

With that, he picked up the one from my uncle’s box. He turned it around a few times before he found what he’d been looking for. It was the exact same carvings at the exact same place.

The professor next to me inhaled sharply. “So it really did work after all.”

While the professor stared in awe at the two radios, I stood there dumbfounded. What the hell was going on? Anyone could’ve carved the same letters into two freaking radios. What the hell’s the-

“My god, this is it! This proves it!”

I stared at Ivan who’d opened up the old map that was at the bottom of the box.

“Do you see this, young man!?” he asked, holding up the map, almost pushing it into my face. I had to shove it aside to even be able to answer the man.

“Yes, I see it, it’s a freaking map, I’ve seen it before it was in my-“

“No, pah, that’s not what I’m talking about,” he started to fidget around with it, turning a it bit, “what I mean is,” again he turned it, this time to the left, “right here!”

It took me a bit to see it, but I finally saw that there were a few notes that covered the map below the legend. They were in old German handwriting and most likely by my uncle. The professor was right next to me in an instant and almost shoved me aside to read them.

“Marked all the spots in which the strange items appeared. So far they only turned up on the meadow near town.”

Don’t tell me…

“Our machine actually worked, Ivan. I can’t believe it. This is…”

The professor broke off, and I could see a hint of tears in his eyes.

“All those years, I thought it was all…” he broke off again.

“Okay, you know what I’ve got no clue what the hell you’re talking about. Mr. Nikolayev, Professor, could you tell me what’s going on? Don’t tell me it’s all about this time machine thing.”

“Exactly, young man!”

How the hell had I ended up right in the middle of this lousy excuse of a science-fiction movie.

“Now look at this Sebastian,” I heard Ivan say as he brought out another handful of items.

The two of them went through my uncle’s box, comparing them to the ones inside. They were oohing and awing at the contents, laughing in excitement.

“Come here, young man. You see this?”

With that, Ivan pulled me aside and opened up one of the various files stored away on his shelves. Each page showed detailed information about the items that, as Ivan called it, had been ‘sent back in time.’ There was an entry about everything inside of the box except for the photograph.

I turned page after page, reading a bit here and there, but it was all so outlandish. There was even an entry about a freaking cat.

“Okay,” I turned to Ivan, “so you’re telling me that all those items my uncle collected and left to me in this box were sent back in time by you? Seriously?”

Ivan grinned. “You want to see it?”

“See what?”

“The machine of course!”

“It’s still operational, Ivan?” the professor called out.

“Of course! Come along, come along!” With that, he led us out into the complex again. This time on a path that went from one hallway to the next, until we descended into a huge basement area.

Countless gigantic computers lined the walls. There was a terminal in the center of the room and in front of it was a metal platform. The platform was about two meters in diameter and surrounded by bizarre machinery.

“I can’t believe it, Ivan! After all those years, but, but those are…”

“Well old friend, you think I’ve been doing nothing all those years?”

The professor was out of it and rushed into the room to check out the machinery and the many computers.

“So that’s your ‘time machine?'” I asked with not just a bit of sarcasm. The whole thing looked like a freaking prop from a movie.

Ivan though nodded.

“And you’re telling me this thing here can send things back in time? Yeah right, I bite, how is this thing even supposed to work?”

Ivan started telling me that the whole project began back in the seventies. Researching in time travel had been going on for some time, he said, but the first practical test site was constructed right here. At least the first one that was bigger than some basement.

The idea, the professor, chimed in, was much more complicated than sending items back in time. The initial test though never showed any success. The project was cut from funding and Moscow abandoned the idea.

“And those initial tests were what?” I asked in a half-serious voice.

They explained that it was a simple manipulation of space and time. They tried to send items to a different place at first, teleportation so to say. Other tests included sending them a few minutes into the future, but nothing ever happened. The items were left on the platform and didn’t disappear or anything.

“What we didn’t know, what we didn’t even take into consideration,” Ivan mumbled on as he walked through the room, “was that instead of actually sending the item itself, the machine would create an exact copy of it at a certain point in time. And that point, young man, was exactly when your uncle stumbled upon them and marked his findings on the very map you brought with you.”

“What about the cat? There was a file about a cat.”

“Struganow,” the professor said in a sad voice.

“It was a cat,” he began, “that had lingered around the complex. Soon some of the personnel adopted the little guy. During the experiments, we also tried organic material and eventually… live samples. I don’t know what must’ve ridden us, but we were desperate, so someday, someone suggested we should use Struganow. The result was… The poor thing was turned inside out. We tried with mice and other rodents we found, but the result was always the same: Excruciating death.”

“There was a fundamental mistake in our calculations,” Ivan elaborated. “Once we’d discovered it, it was clear that our process wouldn’t work with a living organism. It was not possible, never could be.”

Once the man had finished, I couldn’t help but smile.

“Alright, that’s a fine story, really, quite fine. Did you ever think of becoming a writer Mr. Nikolayev?”

For the first time, Ivan’s face showed clear signs of anger and frustration.

“You still don’t believe me? With all this here?”

“This machine could be anything! God knows it might not even do anything at all! For all I know those are just props from some old movie.”

“You want to try it?” the man suddenly asked, with a big grin on his face.

“Wait, Ivan, it’s still working? The funding was cut, and the project was abandoned, so how?” the professor cut in.

“Abandoned by everyone but me! Everyone walked away, even you, old friend, but I stayed. I continued this research for the past three decades. There still people who know about this project, people interested in. People with more than enough money.”

“Well then, turn it on,” I said. “But tell me one thing, if the machine just sends back a copy in time, how the hell are we supposed to know if it really works?”

“What about this?” Ivan said and took out a ballpoint pen made of metal and placed it in the middle of the platform.

I didn’t get it. How the hell would he be even able to prove that anything happened at all? Then it hit me. I understood what he was trying to do. All the other items had supposedly been found by my uncle. So if he’d actually sent back this pen, it had to be found too, right?

While I thought about this, Ivan was already tinkering with the computer terminal.

“Just have to make a few slight adjustments here… change this setting… input a few things… change that as well and… Start!”

The machinery around the platform began to buzz with activity. They all started to glow before light engulfed the platform. The pen began to shine more and more intensely before the room was flooded by a flash of light. After that, the room fell into darkness. It took a minute before the lights came back on.

The pen was still there on the platform. All that had changed was that it was still slightly glowing. Ivan went forward to pick it up.

“Well then, let’s see if it worked,” Ivan said to the professor and me before he rushed from the room to get back to his office.

On the way there I looked at my phone and sighed at myself for wasting my weekend out here. What the hell was I even doing? Why was I here? There was no way any of this was real. This crazy Russian must’ve lost his mind, being holed up here for the past thirty years. What about Professor Neumann though, did he actually believe Ivan? Shit, this was all way too weird.

Once we’d made it back to the office, the three of us took a look at the box.

I froze. Right there between all the other items was now a ballpoint pen. As I looked at it, I felt a slight pain in my head, and I was suddenly very unsure about it. I couldn’t tell anymore if this thing had been there all along.

Ivan next to me burst out in jubilation. He screamed up in excitement and actually jumped into the air.

“This hasn’t been here before. There’s no way! I’m positive about it! See, Sebastian, see the pen,” he turned to the professor. “I bought it back in the eighties, had it made specifically for me, remember?”

The professor nodded.

“Well, young man,” he turned to me, “tell me, how could your uncle have found this pen back in the day if it was made right before the fall of the Berlin Wall?”

I said nothing. Ivan though stepped closer to me and showed me another thing. On the pen was a beautiful engraving of Russian letters.

“For Ivan Nikolayev,” the professor read.

I didn’t know what to say. I stared at the box and at Ivan.

“We’ve got no time to lose, Sebastian,” he urged on the professor.

With that, the two of them carefully placed the content of the box on the office desk to catalog them. When Ivan found the old photograph though, he eyed it for a moment, before he handed it to me.

“A personal item?”

“Yeah, a picture of my great uncle and a relative,” I blurted out before I took it.

For a few minutes, I watched the two of them, before I spoke up and told them I had enough. This whole thing had been going on for way too long.

“I get it, Mr. Nikolayev, you tricked me, didn’t you? You snuck a second pen into the box while I wasn’t watching, right? There’s no other way, your delusions-“

“And of course the common mind can’t grasp it,” the man scoffed at me.

At this remark, I started laughing. “You’re insane. Being holed up here has driven you mad. Time travel, unbelievable,” with that I walked out of the office.

“Can’t believe I came here,” I said out loud.

I’d barely taken a few steps out into the corridor when Professor Neumann came after me.

“Markus, don’t be rash, don’t you see what we’re doing here? You saw it, didn’t you?”

“All I can see is a crazy Russian who’s made up stories about time travel, nothing else. I’m going to be in the car professor, but I really just want to drive off and forget about this whole thing.”

“Well, then go, I’ve got things to discuss with Ivan. I’m going to get back later by train. But thank you, you’ve got no idea, this box, those items,” he broke off shaking his head.

Instead, he gave me a quick hug before he told me to have a safe trip back.

When I finally drove off, I couldn’t believe the day I’d had. I cursed for letting myself being shoehorned into this whole damned trip.

This whole thing happened more than ten years ago. By now the story is nothing more than a funny anecdote that I tell friends and colleagues. It’s nothing but a ‘hey this weird little thing happened to me back in the day.’

After that day Professor Neumann never returned to the university though. After our visit with Ivan Nikolayev, the man quit his teaching job. We were told he started working elsewhere. It was never mentioned where exactly, but I was sure I knew.

My guess was confirmed a few months ago when a letter arrived. Professor Neumann wrote to me to tell me that he was still working on the same project. By now though, Ivan had died, and the professor himself was much too old to keep up with it. He mentioned that he was starting a new research team and wanted me to be part of it. You see, by now I’ve got my masters in theoretical physics and made a bit of a name for myself as a researcher.

I never answered his letter that is until today.

I recently moved into a new apartment. It was by sheer accident that I stumbled upon the old photograph of Uncle Mike and his supposed relative.

When I looked at it today though, I couldn’t help but shiver.

People can change a lot in a decade. A lot of things can happen. I’ve put on a bit of weight, and I now have much shorter hair than I used to. There’s one particular thing though. A few years ago, I got into a car accident. It was quite severe and left me with a permanent scar on my face. On the left side of my face.

When I stared at the old photograph today and the man by my Uncles’ side, my head started to spin.

The man in the picture has the same scar as me, but the more I look at him, the more things I notice. He has the same short hair as me and the same puffy face. I was sweating by now. This man in the picture… it couldn’t be, could it?

I quickly went through all my paperwork and found the letter by Professor Neumann. I’d never thrown it away yet for some reason. I reread it, this time more carefully. The same project he said. Was he still working on that damned teleportation device, no that ‘time machine’? What if the thing had actually been working all along?

For hours I told myself to forget about it and to get rid of both the letter and the photograph. Yet, I can’t seem to do so.

It’s as if something is stopping me from doing so. It’s almost as if a mysterious power is making decisions for me and I can’t do anything about it. The more I look at the photograph and its many implications, I feel that my path is already predestined. There never was a different one, was there?

I guess the passing of time is indeed a very strange thing.

Now that I’m finished typing this all out, it’s time to go through with it. It’s time to give old Professor Neumann a call.

The Barn

The barn was the biggest building on the farm my friend Martin and his family lived at.

Martin and I go back a long while. We became friends during middle school when he lived in a boarding home and attended my school for a year.

The two of us bonded instantly. Neither of us was popular. Martin was the new kid and class, and well, I was a bit weird.

“Hey Gregor, you want to visit my family’s farm in the summer?” he asked me one day out of the blue.

I accepted instantly. I’d grown up a city child, born and raised in the concrete jungles that were once called East Berlin. Living there was almost suffocating. Rows upon rows of Soviet-style apartment buildings stretched on forever.

You can imagine how much I relished to get out of there.

I’d known he lived on a farm, but I’d thought he was talking about a small farmhouse, maybe a field or two and a chicken crop. I was in for a surprise, a big one.

He and his parents picked me up at the local bus station and the moment we reached their property my eyes grew wide.

It was so huge. We drove past endless cornfields. Once we reached the actual farm, there were more buildings than I could count.

It turned out that Martin’s family weren’t your typical small-time farmers. No, they were big corporate farmers. They owned a whole fleet of tractors, harvesters and other vehicles.

The chicken crop was a monstrosity that reminded me more of a factory than a home for animals. It was only dwarfed by one other building: the barn.

I understood why, when Martin showed me the herds of cattle they kept on the meadows. There must’ve been hundreds if not thousands of them.

It was nothing short of impressive.

While I stayed over, I also got to know the rest of the family.

There was Uncle Max. He was the picture book example of the odd uncle. He always pulled jokes, had collected an assortment of musical instruments and spent most of his days by himself. To be honest, he didn’t seem to belong on a farm at all.

His grandpa was the kindest, yet biggest man I knew. He wasn’t fat, he was stout, steeled by a long life of farming. The old man was a pure traditionalist. Work the fields, take care of the animals, rinse and repeat. His motto was honest and hard work. And that, he said, was how he made the farm what it was today.

Martin’s dad was the polar opposite. Not in regards to hard work mind you, but in his ideas about farming. The man was always looking for new technological improvements. New fertilizers, specialized crops, modern farming equipment, you name it. That was his world.

There was always a bit of banter and a few friendly scuffles between the two of them, but it was all in good spirit.

During this first visit, Martin and I hang around the farm, explored nearby areas and played with the animals.

When Martin started to attend a different school after a year, we still stayed friends. Each year I’d spent the summer at his farm.

As we got older though our interests shifted. We didn’t spend as much time on the farm. There was a lake nearby where most of the local teenagers met up. There was also a small town, and there were, of course, the girls living there.

Coming of age might have dispelled the magic I’d felt as a kid, but there were other reasons to appreciate the area now. Live felt different out here, and it was nice to relax from the constant buzz of the city that I usually had to endure.

At times I also did a bit of work at the farm. His dad was pleased to see my honest efforts, and he paid me nicely.

That’s how I got a bit closer to Martin’s dad and learned a bit more about the man. While Uncle Max kept to himself and his grandpa went to bed early, it was his dad that kept us company in the long summer evenings.

When I was young, he’d been this hard, but boisterous adult, now he became a sort of mentor to me. Unconsciously he might’ve even become a substitute for that father I never had.

At times we played cards, and once Martin and I were old enough the three of us shared the occasional beer together.

There were those few, rare evenings when Martin’s dad told us a few of the lessons he’d learned during his life. Success doesn’t happen overnight, nine-to-five won’t make you rich, the smartest one takes it all and similar tales. To be honest, I was thankful, but I wasn’t interested. Most of his advice as forgotten as soon as I went to bed.

There’s one night though that I’ll never forget. It was during my summer vacation five years ago.

As I arrived that year, there was some bad news waiting for me.

During the last winter, Martin’s grandpa had died. It had been a terrible accident due to overwork they told me. Soon after that Uncle Max left the farm and went away to find his luck elsewhere. The man had always been a free spirit, and he took his father’s death as an invitation to start a new life.

I was utterly devastated by the news, and it took me almost the first week of the vacation to get over the whole thing. Not that the world was okay afterward, it wasn’t, but I came to terms with it, you could say.

One evening near the end of the vacation, Martin his dad and I sat together and had a few beers. His dad told us yet another one of his many lessons about who deserved success and who doesn’t. A key point, he said, was the willingness to work much harder than others.

“Oh, that’s why you deserve it, and Uncle Max doesn’t right?”

His dad was quiet in an instant and turned to him. His face had turned from a gentle, slightly tipsy expression to a hard and serious one. His blue eyes seemed cold and almost piercing as he stared at his son. I inhaled sharply because I’d never seen the man like that.

“I told you never to mention that name in our house again,” he pressed out, and I could tell fought hard not to yell at his son.

“Yeah, sorry dad, I didn’t mean to-“

“Damn right you didn’t,” he now yelled bringing his fist down on the table. “Why don’t you ever fucking listen? How many times do I have to remind you?”

With that, he got up and stared at his son. “Well? How many times? How many freaking times until you learn?”

“Dad, I said I’m-“

“And of course that makes it alright. That’s exactly how ‘Uncle Max’ always acted! I should-“

“Steven, come on, the boy didn’t mean anything by it,” Martin’s mother said, who’d entered the room due to the commotion. I could see the fear in her eyes.

For a moment Martin’s dad just stood there. His face was red, his eyes cold, his whole posture was tense, and he seemed to burst with anger. I saw how his hands clenched and unclenched. Any moment now, I thought, he’d be striking out at Martin or even his wife, but then he leaned down to Martin. He reached out for his son’s face and brought it close to his own.

“I guess he really didn’t mean a thing,” he said to his son, his eyes cold as ice, “right, Martin?”

“Y-yeah dad, I swear,” Martin said in a low voice.

For another moment he held his son’s gaze before he turned to his wife and followed her from the room.

For the next minute or two, neither Martin nor I said a word. While we finished our beer, I couldn’t help but watch the doorframe. I was anxious that his dad would come back. In the many years, I knew the man I felt so many things for the man. Now I felt only one thing: fear.

It was the next day when Martin and I were off the farm that he told me what had happened between his uncle and his dad.

There’d always been a bit of bad blood between Uncle Max and his dad. While his dad spent all his time helping out on the farm, trying to find ways to improve the many tasks, Uncle Max never did a single thing. Sure, he’d attended university, but most of his time was spent with women or attending parties. Once he’d graduated though, he moved back in at the farm, busying himself with his own interests.

The situation escalated after Martin’s grandfather died.

It was evident to all that the farm was supposed to go to Steven, the older of his town sons. It was the natural thing to do. That was until his will was discovered. In it, Martin’s grandpa spoke out against Steven and in favor of Max and left the farm in his possession.

Max supposedly didn’t care a bit about the farm. He told everyone that he planned on stripping it and selling everything. Steven tried hard to reason with his brother, but Max didn’t budge.

It was by sheer chance that a lawyer cross-checked the will and discovered it to be a forgery. Steven had no doubt who’d done it. Everyone else’s doubts evaporated when Uncle Max vanished overnight.

There was an investigation, of course, but Max must’ve fled from persecution as soon as he’d been found out. By then, he’d up and vanished, taking quite a part of the family funds with him.

It was all due to his dad and his hard work, Martin said, that the farm was what it was now.

One thing Martin overheard was that Max was responsible for their father’s death. His dad thought Max was after the inheritance. He wanted to use it to pay off his many debts and to continue his lavish lifestyle.

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. This sounded like the plot from a movie. Wasn’t this real life? Family feuds, intrigues, forged documents, I couldn’t believe it. I’d thought they’d all been a happy family. Thinking back to Uncle Max and the way he’d acted around us…

After he’d ended the story, Martin told me to never mention Uncle Max, especially not in front of his dad. It was best to pretend that Uncle Max was dead as well, or better, had never existed at all. Thinking back to how his dad had acted, I did my best to heed the advice.

It was about three years later that I graduated from school and moved on to university. During my time there I’d only ever visited Martin and his family once.

After the New Year’s though, my workload went down considerably. Project work was almost finished, and I only had about a handful of lectures to attend. I decided that a few days or a week of absence wouldn’t be too big a deal.

So the next time I was on a call with Martin, I asked him how everything was at the farm and if I could visit them. He was quite surprised to hear from me, but he said their doors were always open to me. I was pretty much family, he said.

It was half a week later that I was on the same bus as so many times before. Martin waited for me at the station, and as we drove to the farm, he told me what I’d missed.

He started to tell me a couple stories about mutual friends in the nearby town, followed by some news about the farm. His dad had always been interested in new technologies. For the past years, he’d been looking more and more into genetically modified crops and livestock. He’d started to invest heavily in both fields, Martin said.

A big payoff was that he was willing to send Martin to study genetics at university. Martin was really excited about it. He didn’t mind working at the farm and all that, but he’d always hoped for other opportunities. This seemed to be it. I was quite happy for him.

We arrived at the farm about half an hour later. It looked so different in the winter. It was almost depressing to see the harvested fields and the empty meadows all around.

All those thoughts vanished the moment I met Martin’s parents again. They greeted me warmly and were genuinely happy to see me.

They asked me all sorts of questions and how university was going. In turn, I asked them about the farm. I was particularly interested in this new direction they wanted to go to. Martin’s dad though told me they still had a long way to go. He hoped to really get the ball started once Martin went to university.

I was quite intrigued but also exhausted from my long journey. In the end, I went to bed early the first day I stayed there.

It was on the second day that Martin and I went to the town nearby and met up with some of our old friends.

It was nice to hang out with the people there. Things were a bit different out here, simpler. Not everyone was online all the time or glued to their smartphones. Due to the lack of Social Media people seemed to actually be more social, more genuine. It was quite ironic. Now don’t get me wrong, WhatsApp and Facebook were a thing. Out here though, they didn’t replace regular interaction to the degree they did in the big cities.

We had a few drinks at a friend’s place and returned home in the evening. I was surprised to see Martin’s dad waiting for us. I lit a cigarette and walked up to the farm building.

“Let’s get inside boys, it’s quite late and the nights out here are cold,” he said and held the door open for us.

I smiled and took another puff of my cigarette.

“I’ll just finish my smoke,” I said, but I could feel the eyes of the man resting on me.

For a moment they seemed as cold as I remembered them from five years ago. They were gone right away, but I still couldn’t help but shiver. I hastily put out the cigarette and went inside.

Martin’s dad invited us to play cards together like in the old days. It was fun. I was a bit buzzed, but not really drunk. While we were playing his dad once more started to talk about life. His topic of choice that night was risk-taking.

“You can’t be afraid boys. At times you’ve got to take a risk and see what happens. Every great man in history was once at a point in life where he could decide to either stick to a normal, boring and safe life or go down a riskier path. Sure, not everyone makes it, but even the try should be well worth the risk.”

While he talked, I was more absorbed with my cards and tried to figure out how to play the next round. I only half listened to him. It was more of the same old talk again.

“There might very well be times, boys when you’ll have to make tough decisions. Even things you aren’t too proud off, but that’s just how things are.”

When I looked up, I saw a reminiscing look wash over his face. It was quickly replaced by a bright smile.

“But well, it wouldn’t be exciting otherwise, would it?”

Martin didn’t say a word, and I only nodded.

“Well, I guess this old man here is boring you. Let’s keep playing the game then!”

We continued the game for another couple rounds before we called it a night.

I don’t know why, but I couldn’t fall asleep. I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. Guess it’s going to be one of those nights, I thought. It was a couple minutes later that I put on my clothes and decided to go out for another smoke.

I tip-toed through the house and went out via the backdoor. I sat down on the bench on the back porch and lit a cigarette. I watched as the smoke rose into the air. The sky above was marvelous. The stars were so bright. In the city, you weren’t able to see them most nights, but out here, it was as if the sky was ablaze.

The night was gentle. It wasn’t too cold for a February night. I decided to have a walk around the farmstead while I finished my cigarette. It felt so nice. The air was fresh and clean, and there were no sounds. It was only me and the sounds of my footsteps.

I’d been out for almost half an hour and had lit another cigarette when my steps led me to the barn. The building had always been vast and impressive, but at night, it seemed almost eerie. It looked like a dark abomination, grown together from wood and plaster. As I got closer, I noticed various additions to the building. It was most likely related to the new interests of Martin’s dad. As if the building needed to be any bigger, I thought shaking my head.

I looked away and let my gaze run over the wide farmstead when I heard something. At first, I thought it was my imagination, but I heard it again after half a minute. It was quiet and faint, but it sounded almost like an animal.

I looked around to see if some wild animal was nearby, but I was all alone. I waited and listened carefully, and now I was sure that it was coming from the barn.

Had some predator snuck inside? Maybe a fox or something? Or it might be that some of the cattle had hurt himself or gotten lose. Whatever it was, I couldn’t ignore if there was any trouble.

A minute later I opened one of the small side doors and ventured inside. I walked along rows upon rows of cattle, stepping as lightly as I could. There was nothing wrong though. All was quiet, and the animals were resting or sleeping.

Yet, here it was again.

For a moment I tried to pinpoint the location, but the sound was way too low, almost muffled.

I looked around, but none of the cattle seemed agitated. Maybe I actually was imagining it?

Once I reached the edge of the barn, I was about to give up and turn back. Before I’d taken more than a few steps, I heard it again. This time I was sure it had to be coming from behind me. I looked around, baffled. Was it coming from outside after all?

At that moment I noticed a small metal door. When I pushed it open, I realized that it led to one of the many additions of the barn. I stepped inside and found myself in a half empty room. Shelves lined the walls, and there were a few empty containers, but that was about it. It was clear that the room was still being constructed. Where the hell was it coming from?

As I stepped forward though I noticed that my steps sounded a bit strange, almost as if the floor was hollow. After a bit of walking back and forth, I realized that it was only a particular spot where my steps sounded strange. I took out my phone and searched around. Finally, after a long minute of searching, I found a small opening in the floor. There was barely enough room to put my fingers in, but when I did, I realized that I could lift part of it. Don’t tell me… was this a trap door?

As I raised the trap door, I found something below. Once I’d opened it completely, I stood in front of a dark hole. I stood there, not sure what I’d found. I couldn’t suppress the urge to look back over my shoulder. Had I found a hidden place?

I almost jumped when I heard the sound again. Now that it was louder it almost sounded like a wailing of sorts. I stared at the dark hole in front of me. Now I at least knew where the sounds were coming from. They came from down there.

I carefully held out my phone.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said to myself. What I looked at was a metal ladder that led down a long shaft. As I moved forward and gazed down, I could actually see a low light down there. There was a sort of corridor down there.

What the hell kind of place had I found here? Most important of all, what should I do? This was none of my business, wasn’t it? What right did I have to go snoop around on the farm? Those people were like family to me.

Forget about it, whatever it is and go back to sleep, you idiot, I told myself. Just pretend it never happened.

I could tell everyone that I heard something while I was out for a smoke and that’s it. I was about to put the trap door back in place, but the longer I stared at the ladder, the more curious I got.

I’d half lowered the trap door back in place when I cursed and pushed it open again.

I got goosebumps about the whole thing. Once more I turned back towards the barn to see if anyone had noticed that I’d stumbled upon this place. No one was there.

Finally, I took a deep breath, called myself a dumbass and started my descent downwards. Once again curiosity had won over reason.

With each step further down I grew more anxious and antsy. Why was this shaft here? Was it some sort of old tunnel? Was it a bunker they’d built in case of a catastrophe? No, that made no sense at all, this was not America.

My mind conjured up scenario after scenario each more outlandish and stupid than the last. Suddenly, I heard the wailing again.

I almost slipped off the handle and barely held on to it. It really was much louder now, and much creepier. It sounded almost human… For a moment I had to take a deep breath and tell myself to calm down. For a while, I listened for steps down below or any sign of movement, but everything had turned quiet again. I continued my descent undisturbed.

The moment I entered the corridor I felt a drop of sweat running down my forehead. I quickly looked to my left and right, hand still on the ladder. There was no one down here. No hurt person, no animal, and no other creatures. The origin of the wailing though was still a mystery.

The first thing I noticed was the many dim lights on the ceiling. That must’ve been what I saw from above.

I took one step down the corridor and was surprised, almost shocked at how loud they were. It was as if they were reverberating between the walls, being amplified.

For a moment I froze.

What the hell was I even doing down here? A part of my mind was still appealing to me to get out of here, but my curiosity was much stronger and urged me on to explore. Only a bit more, I lied to myself, just until I knew what this place was. Then I’m going back out of here. Taking one step at a time, I inched forward. I’d crossed no more than a few meters when I saw a door ahead of me.

When I reached it, I saw how big and heavy it was. A small glass window was inserted. As I stepped forward, I felt goosebumps on my arm. What the hell was this place?

I had to press my face against the glass to see what was behind. I saw straw, a trough and then on the other side of the room the biggest and fattest pig I’d ever seen. It looked unreal, almost comical, a satirical twist of a normal pig. The creature seemed to be sick. Its tongue was hanging out, his eyes were only half open, and it seemed to breathe heavily. I wondered if purely existing was exhausting for it.

I stepped back and whispered a ‘what the fuck?’

Genetically modified livestock. The new direction Martin’s dad wanted to take the farm into. Hadn’t he said they’d barely gotten started and that there wasn’t much to talk about yet?

I was torn from my thoughts as I looked on and saw other, similar doors.

“Don’t tell me,” I whispered.

I was right. Behind each door another, similar room filled with straw and hay waited for me.

Each one held another, different type of animal. In one were chickens, much bigger than normal ones. Three of them were dead already. In another, I saw a cow with an udder way too big for the poor creature. It was red, swollen and sagged down to the ground. In yet another, I saw a cow that was skinny to the bone but with multiple udders.

Behind each of the doors a new, different, twisted horror waited for me. Sheep who were entangled in each other’s wool. Hybrids of different animals and strange disfigured mutations that made my brain hurt and pushed me into a state of anxiety.

As I stumbled forward, it was clear that this place must be some sort of weird testing ground or laboratory. It must be here that Martin’s dad tried out different types of experiments to enhance their animals.

‘There might very well be times, boys when you’ll have to make tough decisions. Even things you aren’t too proud of.’

The words from a few hours ago came back to my mind.

Why do it down here though? Why this hidden testing ground? It didn’t take me long to answer my own question. Any animal rights organization would give him hell for this. I was sure he also broke more than a few laws by doing these unethical things down here. Either way, if anyone found out about these disgusting experiments, the farm would be done for.

It must’ve been one of those creatures that made the weird wailing sound. The corridor was still going on, and the sound seemed to originate further down. I didn’t feel like looking at more of these poor creatures. By now, I wanted to get out of here and forget about the whole thing.

Suddenly the wailing resounded behind me again. It sounded animalistic, sure, but it also reminded me of a human. I started to shiver. What the hell.

I went forward to the next door but found only another strange pig. There were only two doors left.

One of them was empty. Behind the other was something that will haunt me for the rest of my life.

The creature inside was no animal, but neither was it human. Yet it looked way too similar to a human being. It was as if the traits of different animals had manifested and grown out of it, transforming him into a weird hybrid. I saw horns, I saw a tail, a bulging gut and even something akin to a hove. While I stared at the glass, the thing suddenly looked up and stared at me.

I was frozen in sheer and utter terror and stumbled backward against the wall of the corridor. This couldn’t be another one of his animals. No, what was in front of me was without a doubt a deformed human.

The thing in the room stormed towards the door and started beating it, pressing its face against the small glass window. The sounds it was making. It sounded like ‘ep ep ep ep.’ I was still out of it, but I realized that these weren’t random sounds. No, the thing in front of me was trying to vocalize the word ‘help.’

I got up, and at that moment I saw something. It was a pair of blue eyes looking directly at me. They were almost the same as the eyes of Martin’s dad. The same dark blue eyes and the same cold look. And then I saw the few blond hairs still on his head. Oh god, I thought, dear god now. It couldn’t be, it couldn’t.

“Uncle Max?” I brought out in a shaking voice.

For a moment the creature, no Max, seemed to concentrate heard before it tried to repeat what I’d said. It started to nod a few times before wailing anew. Max threw himself against the door, again and again, getting into a state of terrible rage.

Only when the creature that was once Max finally stopped, did I hear a different noise.

I thought, no prayed, that it was one of the other animals. With each passing second though, it became clear that the noise didn’t originate down here. They were coming from upstairs.

I started to panic right away. My hands started shaking as I heard the hard above getting closer and closer. I knew whose steps they were.

It seemed Max knew too because he started wailing again and rushed to a corner of his cell.

I didn’t know what to do. My mind was a blank. If he finds me down here if he knows that I saw all this… oh god.

I thought about the empty room nearby and almost turned back, but then I saw a door at the end of the corridor. It was another heavy metal door, but not as sturdy as the rest. There was no glass frame on it. I rushed forward, pressed the handle and relieve flooded over me when it opened. Without thinking I practically jumped inside and closed it behind me.

The room I was in now, seemed to be another storage room. There were rows of shelves behind me. They were filled to the brim with all sorts of supplies, animal food, tools, and other, weirder things.

I stopped eying them when I heard someone on the ladder. Only moments later someone landed in the corridor. Slow, heavy footsteps made their way down into my direction. As quietly as I possibly could I put my eye against the keyhole. Outside I saw a tall figure. It was Martin’s dad.

Each of his steps was hard and well-measured. He stopped at each of the doors to take a look inside. At some he smiled at others he frowned. He continued on, and I soon saw that he was holding a long baton in his hand. Finally, he reached Max’s cell.

“Max, didn’t I tell you to keep your mouth shut? Guess you don’t remember, do you?”

With that, he got out a key and unlocked the heavy door. I could hear the angry, yet fearful wailing of Uncle Max.

“Guess I have to make you remember then.”

I saw how Martin’s dad raised the baton and stepped inside. Even from here I heard the heavy hits and Max’s painful screams.

“Do you remember now? Do you remember to keep your mouth shut? Do you!?”

Once more I heard the animalistic wailing of Max before it turned to quiet sobs.

“Well, isn’t that something, you actually can listen. I wonder for how long though, the way you’re now…”

The sobs continued.

“Oh come on now Max, you brought this all upon yourself. With dad things were so easy. It was no problem at all to get rid of the old man, yet you had to insist on your part of the inheritance. Why did you have to give me all this trouble? You should’ve just left, but instead, you had to go against me.”

“You deserve to suffer like this Max, you deserve it all!”

Another hit.

“You deserved to be locked up back then, and you deserve to be used like this now! At least you can do something for the farm now.”

There was a short laugh before he took a deep breath.

“Now, now, where was I, brother. Oh yes, there’s something I wanted to ask you.”

And then he said something that made my blood run cold.

“Where’s the boy?”

This time Max stayed quiet.

“I know he’s down here, Max and I know you saw him.”

Nothing again. Once more I heard the sound of the heavy hits.

“You know what happens if you oppose me, Max! I know he’s down here! Where. Did. He. Go? Or are you too retarded by now to understand me? Well? What’s it going to be Max?”

I heard yet another hit and finally Max’s animalistic voice.

“Ut ut ut ut ut,” I heard him say, followed by “ep ep ep ep.”

For a moment Martin’s dad was quiet.

“Out? Help?” he asked with more than a bit of sarcasm in his voice.

“So he went out to get help?” Martin’s dad continued.

Then he started beating down at his brother once more before he finally closed the door.

“Oh Gregor, why did you have to come down here. Such a shame… I really liked the boy.”

I felt my blood run cold as I heard my name. The way he was talking now, the way he was moving, it was as if he was a completely different person. He wasn’t the friendly, mentor-like man I knew, now he was plain evil.

For a moment he turned towards the door at the end of the corridor, and I could see his cold and hard blue eyes again.

My blood was ice in my veins, and I didn’t dare to even blink. In my mind I already saw him move towards me, ripping the door open and beating me to death with the baton like a crazed god of wrath. Finally, though, he turned around and made his way back towards the ladder.

I heard how he made his way back up and how he closed off the trap door. After that, I heard him walk through the barn before everything was quiet again.

I waited behind this door for almost an hour before I dared to move again. I sneaked towards the ladder and climbed up, only to find what I’d already anticipated, no way to open the trap door.

I tried to push it open with all my might, but it won’t budge. There’s probably some sort of mechanism that keeps it locked from outside.

I was without a doubt trapped.

I explored the rest of the underground area. There isn’t much else around. Only more rooms that held more twisted creatures and another storage room, but that was about it. I also found two more sturdy metal doors that might lead elsewhere, but there seems to be no way to open them.

I tried communicating with Uncle Max multiple times, but he’s out cold. There’s no way for me to even open the door to his cell. I tried everything, but nothing works.

I searched through the storage rooms but didn’t find anything that might help me escape. The only thing useful was some of the tools. They weren’t much good when I tried to open any of the doors.

What they might be good enough for though, is to knock-out a person. I don’t know what else to do. It’s only a matter of time until he realizes that I’m still down here.

Oh god, he’ll tell Martin and the rest that I left during the night, that he drove me to the bus station and that I’m gone again. What if he doesn’t just kill me, what if he… oh god no.

My only hope is to jump him when he comes down here. That’s my only hope of getting out.

Oh god, I can hear him again. He’s back. I can hear him at the trap door.

“My, my, Gregor,” I heard him say on the ladder in an almost excited voice.

Please help me, he’s coming for me.

Want to Kick That Nasty Little Habit?

Well, guess there’s a reason you’re here. We all have our bad habits, don’t we?

Did the title catch your attention? Are you trying to break free of this nasty little habit of yours?

Well, here are a few tips.

The first thing’s pretty obvious. I’m doing it right now. Believe it or not, but writing about it helps quite a bit. If only to keep your mind busy with something else, typing away for that matter.

Now let’s get serious here. The first thing you need to know is that the urge to keep at this habit will only persist for a few days, a week tops. After that, the nagging feeling drifts off, and you’re free, well almost. Try it!

Those first few days though, they can be tough, really though. There’s the shaking, the heart raising, the sweating and of course our good friend anxiety. You’ll constantly want to do it again, and at times you might even do. Been there, done that. Once you’ve made it through, things will get so much easier.

A little piece of advice though, even after weeks, if not month or years, you can have a relapse. There’ll be this nasty little voice in your mind, scratching at your consciousness.

“What would it feel like now?”

“Just once isn’t so bad?”

“It won’t happen again.”

It’s mostly a psychological issue.

Another thing might happen though. You might recall the good, old times. That night when you were outside, going for a walk to indulge in your habit. Or that night you spent with a certain someone and you wanted to make it a little bit more interesting. Oh even as I write this, I can hear the voice in my head, urging me to go back and to relive those feelings. If you’re in the same boat, be strong and surprise it. It’s not worth it. After all, the past is the past. The nagging little voice is only out to trick you.

As we all know though, it’s not all a psychological issue. At least those of you who are going through the same thing as I do will know.

There’s this nasty odor on your clothes that you can’t seem to get rid of. The smell on your hands and of course the taste in your mouth. You can do whatever you want, those things will stay and linger for quite a bit. You can wash your hands over and over again, yet the smell is still there.

You might also notice that your eyes are eyes are a tad bit wider than usual. There could be a popped blood vessel or two. Try it, go look at the mirror, I’m sure they’re there. It’s normal when you try to kick a tough habit.

Now if you notice these things, others will too, of course. They might ask you why you’re so nervous or jittery. And of course, our friend anxiety is there as well, right at our doorstep. Loud noises, someone tapping your shoulder, someone screaming nearby, all those things can be a little too much during this first week. It’s best to tell the people around you about your little predicament.

Otherwise, those influences could send you straight back to your little habit. Just once, to calm down a little. You have to be strong. I’m sure you can do it.

The most important thing though is your mindset. You need to understand that you have to do it for yourself. You can’t do it for friends, your family or even your lover. That’s not how it works.

Never, I repeat, never make it about others or how you can make things better for them. That’s the easiest way to get right back to it once you’re alone. I can’t count how often I made the same mistake.

You need to realize, first and foremost, that this habit is bad for you. That’s the only way out.

You know, I’ve been preaching to you for so long, yet here I am. It hasn’t even been an hour since I fell right back to my little habit. Oh I know it’s terrible. I know I really have to stop it.

As I’m typing these words, I can still smell the blood. I can still taste it. I’ve washed my hands countless times, yet the smell persists, there’s nothing I can do. I know I have to wash my cloth, but I know that they’re most likely ruined. Blood really has such a strong odor, and at times it just won’t come off.

Well, who the hell am I lying too? At times the urge is just too strong. On certain days, I can’t help but go out into the night and kill again.

So, if you guys have a few other tricks or tips, feel free to put them in the comments down below. I’m sure to check them out later.

I’ll be back in a few. For now, though, I really need to get rid of this body.

Laura Ebert

Note: This whole story took place in a small, remote village in Eastern Germany.

Chapter 1 – Insanity

“Laura Ebert is a wench.”

“Laura Ebert is a slut.”

“Laura Ebert is a whore.”

Those were just a few things that were said about her.

To me, the name Laura Ebert will stay with me until the untimely end of my short life.

Laura is a middle-aged woman who lives in the same, small village I grew up in and live to this day.

I didn’t know a lot about her. I heard she used to be pretty, beautiful even. When I was born though, she’d already been married for a few years.

Growing up I heard a lot of rumors about her. She was promiscuous, a flirt and at times even words like whore or slut. Back then I didn’t know what those words meant.

All these rumors had started when something had happened to Laura when she’d changed. I was a little girl back then, no older than eight, but even I noticed it. She would go on long walks and make her way past our house. During these walks, she’d be talking to herself. At times she was rambling on and screaming, at others laughing and giggling to herself.

As a kid, when it started, it was sort of funny to me. I’d barely started elementary school. It’s an age when you don’t understand what mental illness is. Laura was just ‘that funny lady’ to my friends and me. She was our very own village curiosity.

When I got older, I started to understand that there was nothing funny about it. Only now did I really get what the rumors and the implications meant.

I learned what slut and whore meant as well as words like promiscuous. The people said Laura had always flirted with other man and had behaved shamefully. It was especially true during our annual village fair. In hushed whispers, the people said she’d gotten mixed up with the wrong guy. Someone must’ve not been satisfied with flirting, dancing and touching. He wanted more, and after that day, Laura changed. It was never said openly, but it was clear what they were all implying.

Two years ago I started to attend high school in the city. Only then did I realize how backward my home village was. It’s almost as if my bus is traveling through time and each afternoon returns me back to an earlier century.

The worst thing about Laura’s whole story was that nothing ever became of it. There was no police, no investigation and no manhunt for the perpetrator, nothing. The only things were the rumors and the gossip, and they persist to this day.

Well, that’s not true, there’s one other thing that hasn’t changed in all these years. Laura still goes on her long walks, still rambles on to herself and is still haunted by her imaginary demons.

It’s funny. In school, we learned all about equality, women’s rights and the importance of laws in society. Out here though, in this backward village, none of it seems to matter. No, even worse, out here, the victim is being blamed and ostracized for what she had to endure.

I was disgusted by it all.

I first started to bother with Laura’s story for a school project. I know, I know, so much for talking all high and mighty about them not caring.

It was supposed to be a presentation about social issues. Instead of talking about a random law or certain world events, I wanted to talk about my village. I wanted to talk about how wrong things were out there. There was the gossip and the finger-pointing. Sexuality was still a taboo topic. And of course the sexual abuse and victim blaming.

In the end, though, my teacher told me it was a bit too controversial of a topic. What a great teacher you are Mrs. Schubert.

Even though I was forced to do a different presentation, my interest in Laura’s had been kindled. I guess I couldn’t help but be bothered by it. Mom was never a strong woman, and after dad’s accident, she had to raise me on her own. The only other family I had was grandma. Guess you can’t help ending up a bit sensitive and emotional in a household like that.

Mom didn’t share a lot about Laura with me. After the arguments that followed, I ended up asking around in the village. I talked to people under the pretext of a school project. It didn’t matter what I told them. I always got the same stories. It was Laura’s own fault. Why did she have to get so drunk and flirt with all these men? She was a married woman after all. She was just asking for it, and it was only a matter of time before something happened.

My other questions were never answered. When I asked why no one did a thing all I got was shrugs and excuses.

“That all happened so long ago, Sophie,” one woman told me.

“No one knows a thing,” another said.

When I asked why Laura was being blamed and hated, they said it was because she’d always been a slut and a whore.

I realized soon that no one cared about Laura as a person. What they all wanted was someone to gossip about and to point at. They wanted to have someone they could talk about in their boring lives.

It didn’t matter to how many people I spoke and how often I asked around. I never learned a single, new thing.

I wish I’d have stopped at that time, I should have.

At that point, I was already in too deep. I’d spent so much time, and now I wanted to know. My mind was obsessed with Laura Ebert.

Well, if no one wants to tell me a thing, I thought one day, the only option I had left was Laura herself.

Easier done than said, believe me. Sure, Laura was a victim, but Laura was also the woman who was screeching, laughing and rambling on to herself. Her mental issues were real, and they were quite unsettling, n a good day. On others, they were downright scary.

You can’t just approach a person like that and say ‘Hi, how are you doing,’ you know? Still, that’s precisely what my dumb teenage-self did.

For a day’s I’d only watched Laura from afar as she set out on her walks. Each day, I told myself to go after her, but I only ever followed her for a bit.

Then, one day, I told myself to stop being a chicken and to actually do something. I mustered my courage, and that day I went out on one of the many small dirt paths around the village. It didn’t take long for me to see a lone, solitary figure.

When I heard random words and a few giggles, I knew I’d found her.

“Okay, Sophie, you can do this,” I said to myself out loud. I took a deep breath and then hastened my pace.

She didn’t seem to notice my approach at all. Only after I walked behind her for a bit did she step aside to make way for me. Even when I started to walk right next to her, she didn’t acknowledge me at all.

“Mrs. Ebert?” I asked. I’d wanted so much to sound confident, but my voice was a bit too high and a bit too strained. She still didn’t react.

This continued on for almost another minute, in which I grew antsier and antsier. Finally, though, I noticed how her eyes darted towards me.

“I was wondering if,” I started, but broke up when her head suddenly jerked towards me. Her eyes were wide, her pupils dilated, and she brought her head uncomfortably close to mine. She still hadn’t said a single word, but I could feel how her eyes were probing me. I quickly averted my eyes to avoid her gaze.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to annoy you,” I blurted out nervously.

“Then why oh why did you stop right next to me, little girl? Why did you come all the way out here?”

Her words were heavy with an unspoken accusation. She waited for me to answer, but before I could say a word, she looked away, as if focusing on someone else. There was no one there at all.

“You think she’s here to mock me like everyone else?” she asked the empty space next to her before the head jerked back once more.

“Well girl, are you here to mock me? Are you here to feed into their lies?”

Again she brought her face closer to mine until it was only a few handspans away. “Well, are you!?” she snapped.

“N-no, I only wanted to ask you-“

“Just asking? Isn’t it cute, she’s just here to ask questions!”

Once more she turned away, this time only mumbling something.

“I, I’m sorry,” I started but broke up when Laura burst into laughter.

“That’s great! I like that one!”

She was still talking to whatever hallucination she saw next to herself.

“So, little girl,” she started once more, stretching out the words uncomfortably long, “what is it you want to know?”

As she asked that, she slowly crooked her head, almost as if twisting her neck. No, not just her neck, it was as if her whole body began to twist into a more and more an unnatural posture. It was almost as if her neck was a bit too long. As she did this her eyes were still wide, still probing me. Then, when she saw my fear, her mouth changed bit by bit into a crazed grin.

I opened my mouth, but in the face of such insanity, I couldn’t bring out any words.

“And of course she can’t say a word, of course.”

Again she turned to her invisible interlocutor, but this time she stopped right in her tracks and started giggling.

“Ah yes, yes we should, shouldn’t we? You think so?”

At this point, I couldn’t do it anymore. With quick steps, I started to walk away.

“Oh, but where are you going little girl? Why are you leaving? But don’t worry, there’s no need to ask any questions. There’s no need at all! Oh yes, run, run little girl, run!”

With that, she burst out laughing again. Even as I hurried away, she kept laughing. It was only cut off when she screamed at me once more to run. With each step, I got faster until I was almost running.

I only stopped when I reached the edge of the village. As I looked back, I saw her out there. She was still gesticulating heavily, and I could’ve sworn she was screaming even now. The only thing I wondered about was if those screams were directed at me or one of her hallucinations.

To tell you the truth, I didn’t know what I was expecting, but not THAT. I’d thought she’d be apprehensive, maybe scared, maybe confused, but not… like that.

I couldn’t imagine what must have happened to her to change her like that. I felt equally crept out and anxious on my way home. Even as I walked past buildings and houses, I turned around to check if Laura was coming after me.

That night, sleep didn’t come easy. When I finally drifted off, my dreams were haunted by Laura Ebert. I saw her face again, her crazy eyes and her insane grin as her elongated neck twisted around me.

In another one, she ran after me. However far I ran, she still didn’t stop. She was laughing as she chased me through the village. I called out for help, but everyone I saw ignored me. Laura only stopped when some dark figures jumped onto her. They ripped her cloth apart and pinned her to the ground. Now it was her that was screaming for help. Still, though, everyone was ignoring the scene. All I saw them do was pointing fingers and whispering to themselves.

Finally, I stepped forward to do something only to realize that it hadn’t been Laura who was held down, it was me. I twisted and screamed against the sudden grip of my shadowy assailants. All I got back was laughter, drunk yells, and excited shouting. The last thing I heard was Laura giggling from afar.

I woke up screaming in my bed and threw my sheets aside before I realized it was just a dream. I was panting, breathing heavily and wet with sweat. I didn’t sleep again for the rest of the night.

After that night I didn’t talk to Laura directly again for a long while. No, I didn’t approach her anymore or follow her around.

What I did was to look more into her story. That day had not only sparked my fears.

It had sparked my curiosity for Laura Ebert’s story more than ever before.

Chapter 2 – A Dark Village

Insanity. It’s such an easy word, isn’t it? Four short little syllables. Yet, it incorporates so much. The word was on my mind constantly after my run-in with Laura.

What must’ve happened to cause something like that?

My thoughts weren’t the only thing that had changed. The village had too. Every day I noticed the people staring at me. They never did it openly, but it wasn’t hard to miss. I was sure it was because of me prying into Laura’s story. I could almost hear their whispers.

For a while I ignored it, but eventually I had enough.

One day, as I walked home from school, I saw two old ladies standing nearby, staring over at me. When I looked at them, they turned away, pretending they hadn’t done anything.

I could feel myself getting angry. No, that wouldn’t fly today. As I walked over, I recognized them. One was Mrs. Struppe, the old kindergarten teacher and the other was Mrs. Meier, the late pastor’s wife.

“What’s so interesting? Are you spreading rumors about me now? You want to make me out to be a slut as well?”

“Don’t be silly Sophie,” Mrs. Struppe started, “We’re only wondering what you’re trying to prove! Why are you so obsessed with this?”

“I’m trying to figure out what happened to Laura, I mean, Mrs. Ebert.”

“But why, Sophie? Why are you so interested in this? It’s such an old story and-“

“You want to know why? Because no one is doing a damned thing! You’re all just pointing your fingers at her, shaming her for, for being raped!”

“Don’t you dare use that word!” Mrs. Meier yelled at me. Up until now, she’d just stared at me. I was almost a bit surprised at her outburst. “There’s no big secret here girl, no lies, you’re looking for something that’s not there!”

“Because you swept it all under the carpet, right? Let’s all pretend nothing happened! Laura did, what Laura always does, so it’s her own fault, right? That’s so rich!”

“You don’t know a damned thing, girl! That woman got what she deserved for-“

“What she deserved?” I cut Mrs. Meier off. “Are you serious? For being pretty and flirting, she deserves to end up like this?”

With that I’ve had it and stormed off. I heard them talk behind my back, but I didn’t care. I’ve had it with this whole goddamn place. How was it so easy for them not to care?

Once at home I threw my backpack down in frustration. Who the hell do they think they are?

I looked at the clock. Mom was still at work and grandma was most likely having an afternoon nap. I made myself a sandwich, put some music on and started to browse Reddit.

After an hour or so the internet cut out like so many times before. It was common out here. Sure, the dial-up times were gone, but the speed and quality hadn’t improved much. As so many days before I fell down on my bed. I halfheartedly picked up one of my books and started reading a chapter at random. Soon enough my eyes grew heavy, and I began to doze off.

I’d have fallen asleep if mom hadn’t knocked on the door.

“Sophie?”

“Yeah, mom, what’s up?”

“Someone called me,” she said in a serious voice.

“That’s great mom, I guess.”

“They called me about you and what you’ve been up to. They said you’ve been bothering with this, this…”

I knew right away what she meant.

“She’s got a name, mom!”

“I know her name damn well, Sophie! Everyone knows her name! And now my own daughter is being associated with her! What are you even thinking? Why, Sophie?”

“You want to know why? Because it’s so weird! This whole thing! Everyone is ignoring it and keeps quiet about it. They’re all pretending nothing bad happened, but I know damn well there’s more to it, mom!”

“And of course you have to look into it, right? It has to be you, hasn’t it? Why can’t you-“

“Why can’t you let me move in with Julia and Anne? Why do I have to live out here in this stupid village? Maybe if I didn’t live out here, I’d have more interesting things happening in my life!”

“You know how dangerous that city can be. What if-“

“And out here it’s so much safer, right? But oh, out here no one would talk about it, right? They’d just pretend nothing happened. I’d be the next Laura Ebert, right?”

“It would be only you three girls living together!”

“It’s so much different here, right? Here it’s you and grandma and me. I’m so much safer here with you two around.”

“We’re not having this argument again, Sophie!”

“Fine, then we don’t!”

With that, I stormed out of the room, put on my shoes and jacket and went outside. I ignored mom as she called after me. It was always the same with her.

Before I knew it, I was out and walking along the street through our small village. Thinking about it now, I couldn’t remember the last time I was out on my own after dark. How strange.

Step by step I went on, and each step echoed a bit louder on the empty street. I only noticed it after a while, but I was utterly alone. It wasn’t all that late, yet no one else was outside. Even though I was walking on between houses with people inside, I somehow felt… all alone out here.

As I looked up at the sky, I saw that it was alight with stars and the moon. The village around me though seemed dark, almost a bit too dark, as if convoluted with shadows.

And with secrets, I thought.

I could see the lighted windows of the houses around me. What was going on inside though, was carefully hidden away behind curtains. Here and there I thought I saw a figure behind them, faces that scanned the night outside. It seemed almost as if they were scanning the night for something. Was it for me?

I shook my head. Don’t be silly, Sophie, you’re feeding into your own paranoia. If this goes on, you’ll soon start yelling at things as well.

I would’ve laughed, but I couldn’t. There was nothing funny about this little attempt of a sick joke.

The longer I was out, the darker it seemed to get. It was almost as if the darkness was alive and was ebbing in towards me from around the houses.

As my anger against mom subsided, a new, different feeling took hold of me. The feeling of being watched. This time it was almost ubiquitous. As if a hundred imaginary eyes focused on me. I was really crept out by now and hurried to get home. It felt so real. Had my obsession with Laura Ebert infected my mind and conjured up hallucinations of my own?

I didn’t know. For a moment it was almost as if the shadows around me were moving.

When I finally reached the front door of the house, I felt almost dizzy. I saw that grandma was already waiting for me in the hallway.

“You silly girl, why did you go out at a time like this? I was worried sick when I heard you’d run off!”

“It was another fight with mom,” I mumbled as I took my shoes off. “Ugh, at times I can’t deal with her and her bullshit!”

“Sophie, you’ve got to understand your mother. After your father’s accident, you’re all she’s got left. She’s just worried about you.”

“I know grandma, but…” I broke up shaking my head in frustration.

“What silly thing did the two of you fight about this time?”

“We fought because of Laura,” I said and sighed.

“Laura? Is that someone at your school? One of your friends you wanted to move in with?”

“No grandma, Laura Ebert. You know, the ‘crazy lady’? Mom got all mad at me because I looked into her story. I don’t know why everyone is acting like it’s such a big deal.”

I threw my shoes aside and turned to grandma to wish her a good night, but I saw how serious her face was now.

“Did you say Laura Ebert, Sophie?”

I nodded, a bit confused at the change in her voice.

“Don’t you dare look into that anymore, girl! You’ve got no idea what you’re getting yourself involved with!”

“But grandma, what’s the matter? I’m not-“

“No! You listen to me now, Sophie and you listen well! That woman, what she did, that dance and those… those lines, it was wrong! She should’ve never-“

“Wait, what dance? What are you talking about grandma?”

By now grandma was standing next to me. Her nails were digging into my arm as she clang on to me.

“The flower dance at the village fair. That wench, she, she, how dare her, I…” Grandma broke up. She’d gotten so worked up that she was shaking now. Her breath came out in short haggard burst, and I couldn’t understand her anymore.

“Grandma what,” I started but was cut off when mom came running down the stairs.

“My god, mother, what’s wrong? I heard you yelling and-“

Then she saw me.

“Sophie, what did you do? Oh god, mother, hold on to me. Sophie, go and get her medicine! I think it might be her heart again. Now go and don’t just stand there!”

Once I returned with the medication mom ripped it from my hands to give grandma a few of the pills. While she did that grandma’s eyes focused on me once more.

“Promise me, Sophie.”

Her words were no more than a quivering whisper, yet I could see how much energy it cost her to do that much. I smiled at her and nodded.

Once we’d put grandma to bed, I went up to my room. Mom said she’d sit with her until she’d calmed down.

It was not even five minutes later that she barged into my room yet again. She demanded to know what grandma and I had been talking about that had gotten her so worked up. At first, I was going to lie, but then I sighed and admitted that I’d mentioned Laura. Mom exploded at me, and for a quick second, she rose her hand. The slap to my face though never came.

“You know how bad she’s doing! Especially after the stroke and all that! The doctors told us she shouldn’t get angry or exhaust herself and yet you,” she broke up shaking her head.

“All because of her. Out of all people! Never Sophie, never mention that woman in front of your grandma again!”

It was a week later that I uncovered another small puzzle about Laura Ebert’s story.

Grandma had mentioned the flower dance. It had been an old local tradition in the area. In earlier times the young maidens in our village used to dance at the local fair. Think about it what you want, but it sounds much worse than it is. It’s only a dance, nothing more.

I’d never heard that Laura had been involved in it though. However hard I tried, I could not remember seeing her dancing at any time. Even stranger, I could not recall ever seeing one of the flower dances myself. I’d only ever heard about it in stories.

When I talked to some of my friends at school about it, all I got was frowns. By now they were sick and tired hearing about some crazy village lady. Yeah, they’re the best.

When someone joked about the local gazette though, I got an idea. I knew that the city library had a collection of all the local papers of the area, however small.

That afternoon it didn’t take me long to find the one I was looking for: summer, nine years ago.

As I read through it, I remembered something. It hadn’t been a regular fair. It had been an anniversary one, due to our villages supposed founding six hundred years ago.

The fair’s program had consisted of a variety of traditional venues: A medieval parade, traditional market stands and a lot more. After a while, I spotted the ‘traditional flower dance of the village maidens.’

I was sure I’d been there that summer, but I didn’t remember anything about that supposed dance. I soon realized why. It was the time. It was on Saturday evening, shortly after sundown. Why had they done it that late? That made no sense. Didn’t a flower dance make much more sense around noon?

The librarian couldn’t tell me a thing, of course. The man had to read the name of the village twice, and even then he had no clue where it was.

On my way home I considered asking some of the other villagers, but I knew that would be no good.

It was by sheer accident that I glanced at Laura’s house and saw her husband out in the yard. He was rummaging in his garage, but soon locked it up and made his way over the yard. Of course, he had a bottle of beer glued to his hand. For a moment I grimaced at the sight of the man.

Getting older hadn’t been kind to him. Well, that and the alcohol of course. Everyone knew Laura’s husband drank, a lot. By now he was a fat, balding caricature of a man that looked at least a decade older than he really was.

“Mister Ebert, excuse me!”

It took him a while to realize that I’d been calling out to him, but then he turned into my direction. His eyes focused on me, and a smile appeared on his face. It wasn’t a friendly one.

“Well hello there, you’re Margarete’s daughter, right? What’s your name again? Sophie?”

“Yeah, that’s me! I was wondering if you could help me with something.”

While I searched for the copy I’d made of the gazette, he made his way towards me.

“I’m sure I can help you, what’s it about?”

By now he was standing right next to me. His huffed breath felt disgustingly warm on my cheek. The thick smell of alcohol was almost suffocating.

“So, what’s it about?” he asked once more, slurring each word and caressing my back with his hand.

I ripped the copy from my backpack, cringed a step back from him and shoved it into his face.

“Do you know about the flower dance back then? Wasn’t Laura part of it?”

For a while he just stared at the page, his face empty.

“Oh, back then. That thing Laura did. Really don’t know what to tell you. She wanted to be all nice and pretty and dance around like an idiot. Didn’t care one bit for it, no clue why you’re asking me.”

For a moment his hazy, drunk eyes grew hard, and it looked as if he was about to become angry. A sip of beer seemed all that was needed to get rid of the bad thoughts. He soon returned to smiling like the drunk idiot he was. Once more his hand reached out for me, but this time I was able to dodge the touch.

“Who was there with her? Do you remember?”

Another pause and another sip of beer.

“Tell you what Sophie,” he started carefully pronouncing my name, “why don’t you come inside, and we’ll have a talk there. It’s too cold out here, isn’t it?”

I was utterly disgusted when I saw how the smile on his face grew wider, and his eyes wandered up and down my body.

“I really don’t have time today, my mother is waiting for me. Just give me a name, and that’s it. It’s for school!”

“Guess you’re as impatient and prude as your mother,” he scoffed. “The only one I remember was that friend of Laura’s that Lizzy bitch. The one that this idiot Thomas got himself married to.”

“Lisa Knaute?”

“Yeah, that one. Now go and get out of here, isn’t your mother waiting for you?” he spat the words at me before he took yet another big sip of beer.

I’d barely taken a few quick steps to get away from this disgusting excuse of a man when I saw Laura out on the street.

For a moment we both stopped in our tracks and stared at each other. The moment was cut short when her husband cursed at her from behind me.

“You better get over here now! Been wondering where the hell you went again!”

“What did you do with the girl?” Laura asked in her weird, sing-song like voice. While she did, the eye contact with me didn’t break.

“Her? She asked me about that stupid dance of yours, the one with the flowers and stuff. Now get the hell inside! I can’t deal with you vanishing like that every single day!”

Laura started to walk over to the door, yet she was still staring at me.

It took only a few seconds before I couldn’t deal with it anymore and cast my eyes down. I almost ran over the yard. Even when I reached the street, I could still feel her eyes. I took one glance back at her.

It was only for a moment, but I could’ve sworn she’d smiled at me again.

Chapter 3 – The Little Witch

Lisa Knaute was a stout, friendly woman in her mid-forties. She seemed so different from everyone I’d talked to yet, so much nicer.

I found myself on the couch in her living room a few days after Laura’s husband had told me about her.

“I’m really not surprised you’re here, you know? I heard Margarete’s daughter had been snooping around,” she said smiling at me.

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. I should’ve known that it was the same thing all over again. I was surprised to see Lisa laugh a bit when she noticed it.

“Oh, I know, I know, all that village gossip. Believe me, it’s been exactly the same when I was a teenager. That’s just how the old people out here are. Well then, you’re here to talk about Laura, aren’t you?”

I nodded. “My grandma mentioned the flower dance, but she was so scared, so I’m wondering what happened there. I heard you and Laura organized it together.”

“I’m afraid I can’t help you with that, Sophie.”

I turned from her and an angry ‘of course’ escaped my mouth. So much for her being all friendly. I’d gotten my hopes up for nothing!

I was about to get up and leave when Lisa motioned for me to stay.

“Now don’t be so quick. You’re just like your mother, you know. I can’t tell you a thing about that evening because I wasn’t there. Laura and I had a bit of a… falling out. After that, I didn’t go there that day.”

“Oh, okay. Well, I guess, thank you for letting me in and all that.”

“You really are Margarete’s daughter,” she said and laughed. “You’re here to hear about Laura, right? I’m sure no one told you a thing, so how about I tell you a bit more about her.”

“Wait, I mean, yes please tell me!”

I was more than a bit surprised that someone actually offered to tell me more about Laura. Everyone had been so secretive.

Lisa nodded. When she spoke again, her smile turned sad.

“It’s so wrong that no one bothers with her. Laura used to be so different. I’ve known her ever since I was a little kid. We used to be best friends for as long as I can think back. Things only changed after that night.”

“She’d always been a bit of a strange one. You might think people only talked about her after the fair, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. No one is going to admit it, of course, but people never liked her. Even as a teenager they were all gossiping about her and giving her curious stares. You know what they all called her? The little witch.”

“The little witch?” I asked curiously.

“Mhm, I’m sure you know how devoted this village is. Everyone here is Christian, and everyone here goes to church, right? Well, Laura never was a fan of that. I don’t know why, but she never warmed up to the idea of a single god whose laws you had to follow. Maybe it was due to her parents, they were quite… strict with their kids. Laura tampered in other things. Even during middle school I always caught her with books about mythology, weird old traditions, spirituality, paganism, and even witchcraft. It was sort of her thing, and I guess it’s no surprise that people caught wind of it.”

“Once we finished school though, that changed. Laura had been dating Robby for two years by then. The two of them were so in love, back then. To tell you the truth, I was a bit jealous of them. While I started my boring apprenticeship, they got married and moved in together. Laura was the happiest girl in the whole village. It was really something else. No one had expected her of all people to get married like that. There were still some calling her the little witch, but most people thought she’d changed, grown up so to say. She seemed to have forgotten about All those weird things she’d bothered with in the past. Instead, she’d become a full-blown housewife. Oh, how happy she was back then.”

Lisa sat there, smiling to herself, but soon her expression changed again.

“Things aren’t always meant to be, you know Sophie? It was the same with their marriage. After the first year, it quickly deteriorated. No one knows what happened between the two of them. Everyone knew Robby had a bit of a history with the alcohol, but in time it got worse. It soon started to impact their marriage. Their burning love turned cold, and the flowers that Robby brought home were replaced by bottles of beer. Laura’s happy smiles were soon replaced by bruises and tears.”

“Everyone knew it was happening, but people pretended not to notice a thing. After all, she was Laura Ebert, right? Laura the little witch. It had to be her fault. God knew what she was bothering with, and god knew it must be what drove Robby into his alcoholism. So when Laura suffered, people turned a blind eye, as always. Back then, even I ignored it. I talked to her, but I never offered help. Everyone said it wasn’t that big of a deal, and it would get better eventually but, I don’t know. Then the miscarriage happened.”

“Miscarriage?”

“Yes, no one had known she was pregnant, not even her husband, most likely due to being drunk all day. When she arrived at my door though, I could tell something terrible had happened. I’d never seen her like that before. She was shivering, scared and so out of it. I let her in right away, and of course, I saw the bruises, but I couldn’t say a thing. She only told me in whispers and between tears what happened. For day’s she stayed with me and pleaded to not make her return to that man.”

“When her parents arrived after a week though, there wasn’t much I could do. I couldn’t hide Laura from them. When my mother got involved Laura herself decided to return home with her parents. Then, after a few weeks, she was back to living with Robby. It was as if nothing had happened. Things were back to the way they were before.”

“Why didn’t she leave!?” I cut her off. “Why didn’t she, I don’t know, run away or move to the city? Why did she have to return to him? That’s just-“

“Now, now, I know Sophie. I wish she did, but there was no way. Where should Laura have gone? What should she do? She had no job, no money, nothing at all.”

“But there’s always a way,” I started, but broke up when Lisa was shaking her head.

“Things aren’t always that easy, especially not for old-fashioned people like us. Well, and not everyone has Laura’s parents. They always had it out for her. Laura was the bad apple of the family. She had made them the target of rumors and bad blood already, there was no way they’d let her do it again. Divorce was out of the question. It was such a terrible thing. Maybe I should’ve… I don’t know.”

Lisa broke up and was quiet for a while. “You know, she was my best friend, yet I,” she took a deep breath, and for a while, I saw her hands quivering. Then she calmed down enough to continue her story.

“After that Laura found comfort in her old interests again. She was always out in the forest and the meadows on her own. She’d sit by the trees, dance around and read all those weird books she’d gathered as a teenager. I joined her a few times, and it was all harmless. A bit strange, sure, but strange was normal for Laura. To be honest, I was quite happy to see she was doing better and had found some joy again.”

“It was during spring that she told me about the flower dance she wanted to organize. She said it was an anniversary fair after all and she wanted to be part of it. She’d planned it all out in her head. It would be her, a couple of our old friends back from school and me. She was so happy and excited when she talked about it. It was almost as if we were teenagers again, but things aren’t always as they seem. It was Laura after all.”

“The dance she’d planned was something else. I’d have thought all she wanted to do was a simple, dance routine, but I was in for a surprise. Laura had read up on all those strange old traditions and rituals, all her… well, witchcraft. Of course, she wanted to incorporate it into the dance. She told me we should make it different, hip, creative and of course, I was psyched. It had been so long since I’d done something like that. And I really wanted to help Laura.”

“So one day Laura told me she wanted to show me a few things she’d planned. Of course, we couldn’t do it anywhere, not with Laura. She wanted to show me in her special place. It was this small little grove near the forest. She said it was a place she felt at home and happy to be at. But out there, things got a bit… strange.”

“What do you mean by strange?” I asked her, but Lisa motioned for me to let her continue.

“It was the dance itself. The way she moved her body was so different, erotic even. She twisted her body, almost threw herself on the ground and then she started to mumble to herself. It was so different from anything I’d seen. I felt strange watching it. When she began to make those weird, animalistic noises, I felt so uncomfortable.

“It was already late, and I could feel the area around us get darker, much darker. It was so strange, the sun was setting of course, but it felt as if it was a different sort of darkness. After a while, I almost felt as if we weren’t alone anymore. I don’t know what it was, but it felt as if I was being watched. I called out to Laura when I thought I saw something between the trees.”

“What did you think you saw?”

Lisa sighed, then shook her head. “I’m really not sure Sophie. It was almost as if there were too many shadows between the trees? It was if they were moving and…” she shook her head once more. “No, it had to have been my imagination. With Laura’s weird dance and the sun setting, but it was so weird.”

The moment Lisa mentioned what she’d seen I remembered the evening I was out alone after dark. I was about to ask her if she’d ever seen anything like it again, but she’d already started to continue her story.

“I asked her why it was all so weird and sexual, but Laura said it was simply something she enjoyed. I think I eyed her a bit suspiciously after that because she got all defensive. She said we could still change it if I wanted to and it was nothing but a first little idea.”

“After that day Laura went around to find people to join in with the two of us. I think six people in total agreed to join, but we never got together before all the trouble started.”

“Trouble?”

“It was the church people. None of them liked the idea of having Laura organize part of their nice anniversary fair. They didn’t want to give her a stage to do any of her weird things there. Rumors travel fast, especially those about Laura. Everyone knew what she was up to out by the forest.”

“Some were more sympathetically towards her due to her home life. Others spoke directly against her idea. In the end, they allowed her to do her dance, but only late in the evening. It was clear why. At that time almost everyone would be inside of the festival hall for music and drinking. No one would care if there was some weird little dance going on and no one would watch it. They pretty much wanted to hide Laura’s little act. Oh, and Laura, she was so mad about it.”

“She almost burst into tears of rage when she told me all about it. Of course, she didn’t care about their opinion, not one bit. Laura told me outright that she was now going to make the thing as weird and sexual as possible, if only out of spite. She wanted to play a joke on them and embarrassed them and their little fair altogether.”

“The way she talked to me that day, her anger, it was so different. I almost didn’t recognize my friend anymore. There was so much hate inside of her. It was then that I told her that I couldn’t be part of this whole thing if she’d make it too weird.”

“Laura didn’t like it one bit. To be honest, I’d have loved to do the dance with her, but my family is so involved with the church and all that. My mom was even a volunteer at the Sunday school back then. If I’d join in with Laura’s weird pagan rituals… well you know how this village is. The moment the word ‘pagan ritual’ was out of my mouth though, Laura exploded at me. I hadn’t wanted to call it that, but the words had already escaped my mouth. We had this terrible argument.”

“In the end, I didn’t take part in her dance. I didn’t even talk to her after that. I never found out who Laura actually got to join in with her and I didn’t care. I was so mad at this whole thing that I didn’t even go to the fair that day.”

“I was at home when… things happened to her. My husband had been there, in the festival hall when something happened to Laura. There was all that blood, people were screaming, but he couldn’t tell me what actually happened. I was at Laura’s house only minutes later, pleading and screaming at Robby to let me see her, but he didn’t budge. In the end, I had to return home.”

“At first no one sad a thing, no one knew what had happened. Then the rumors started. Laura had been flirting with a few too many guys, and one of them jumped her during the dance, hurting her in the process of… It doesn’t matter. It can’t be as simple as that, I know it’s not. I’m not sure what happened but, but,” she broke up shaking her head.

“In the end, the rumors about Laura continued to spread. They all had it out for her, and this was another bit that fit right into the image they had of her. The little witch had become the slut, the wench, the whore. It was no secret that she’d looked for love elsewhere, but really who can blame her with a husband like Robby. The things that bastard did to her!”

Once more I nodded.

“I wanted to go and talk to her. I wanted to, but then, I saw her again. I was so scared. She was out of it, didn’t even recognize me. She was screaming and yelling at the air around her. And that moment when she stared at me, I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t talk to her, couldn’t even look at her. She looked so different, so scary. I was so ashamed of myself, and I still am. I tried to approach her and talk to her so many times, but I never did.”

This time I couldn’t stay quiet. “That was almost ten years ago and yet you…” I broke up when I looked over at Lisa and saw that she was on the verge of tears.

“I know I should’ve done more! We all should’ve done more. I’m sorry Sophie, I didn’t want to get all worked up like that. I just wanted to tell someone that Laura isn’t who they make her out to be!”

“Yeah,” I said nodding my head. For long minutes we sat next to each other, not saying a word. All I could do was press Lisa’s hand as she tried to calm down.

“You know,” she started after a while, “Laura gave me this little booklet back in the day. It was all about her dance and those things she believed in. I think she even wrote it for me! Tell you the truth though, I never got around to reading it, especially not after… well after our fight. Let me see if I can find it, you’d want to have a look at it, right?”

She went to one of the cabinets in the room and rummaged through papers and old envelopes. She soon gave up in frustration.

“I’m sorry Sophie, I’m telling you all about the booklet, and now I can’t even find it. God knows where it is.”

“No, it’s alright! You don’t have to worry about it.”

After that, we talked a bit more. It was nothing but small talk though. Neither of us wanted to end this visit in so dark a mood, so we talked about simple things, like family and school for a bit. It was about half an hour later that I finally left.

On the way home I thought about Laura’s whole story once more. The tears that Lisa had fought so hard to hide started to flow freely now. This time though, it was from my eyes.

There were such terrible things hidden away in this village.

Chapter 4 – The Flower Dance

My mood grew darker after I’d heard about Laura’s terrible past. How disastrous her marriage had been and how she’d been ostracized by the village once before.

Every day when I returned home from school, I saw the faces of people who were responsible for it. Most of them I’d know my whole life. Many of them were friends or friends of my family. Now, I couldn’t even look them in the eyes. They were all such terrible and disgusting people.

I thought about what I could do for days. Everyone was right about one thing though: It had all happened long ago, and it was all so vague.

Was there even anything I could do to begin with?

What finally ripped me from these senseless thoughts of vendetta was a tiny package. Grandma handed it to me one day after school.

It was a small paper package with my name written on it. It must’ve been dropped off at our mailbox grandma told me that morning.

Even though my name was written on top of it, I had no idea what it was. Only when I opened it and found a small booklet inside did I know it must be the one Lisa had told me about.

I thanked grandma and hurried upstairs to my room. The little booklet wasn’t as worn as I’d expected, but I reasoned that it was due to Lisa never reading it. It had a simple ‘for my dear friend’ written on the front page.

The content was as weird as I’d expected it to be.

The first few pages mentioned some supposed local myths that I’d never even heard about. One was about little people and the shenanigans they played on people. Another talked about more sinister things hiding between the trees of the forest. The last one mentioned that the village was created here for a specific reason. Supposedly due to the abundance of spiritual energy.

I had no idea what she meant by that, but as I continued reading, I started to understand.

The contents ventured into all sorts of esoteric stuff. Laura explained the natural flow of energy and how it connected our world to certain, otherworldly or spiritual realms. For pages, she tried to paint vivid pictures of these places, but it was all hazy. It reminded me of the descriptions of fever dreams.

At first, I thought it was nothing but a haphazardly thrown together collection of esotericism. Soon noticed that there was method to the madness. Laura had started off by the myths and then mentioned her esoteric beliefs. Now she put both together in her concept of certain energy places.

An energy place, she wrote, was a location at which connections between our world and the spiritual realms were especially strong. They existed at places where the energy lines of our planet converged and came together. At these places, you could tap into the energies of these spiritual realms. You could commune with spirits, summon them into our world and do much, much worse things.

It was all such utter nonsense.

The latter half of the booklet consisted of carefully written down invocations, verses, and prayers. You could use them at these energy places she’d described. Some, Laura wrote, were nothing but fertility rites or good luck wishes, other’s had different uses. She’d only written instructions to the first handful. The rest was impossible to decipher since they were all written into some weird language. When I googled some of the words, nothing came up.

It was most likely all hogwash that Laura had made up herself. She must’ve mixed different languages and letters together.

The last few pages of the booklet contained practical instructions. Laura explained how one would go about finding these energy places. She described all the criteria such a place had to fulfill and how you’d know you were at the right place. After that, on the last page, Laura included a detailed map to locations she’d found. I started to chuckle when one of them was right next to our village. Of course, it had to be within walking distance of her home. Delusion can be a scary thing…

In the end, I threw the booklet aside and started browsing the internet. This was all ridiculous.

What was even more ridiculous, was the fact that I actually went out there to have a look. It was not even an hour later that I was out on the dirt paths following the map in the little booklet.

Of course, I didn’t expect to find an actual energy place or summon spirits. Who does when they find something like that? I wanted to see if I could find another puzzle fitting into her story. Who knows, maybe she’d hidden something there.

After I’d followed the path into the direction of the forest a bit, I could actually see it. A short walk through a meadow and I found myself at a small little grove. The moment I saw it, I wondered if this was the place where Laura had shown Lisa her weird dance.

As I stood there and looked around, I could see nothing special about the place at all. There was no mushroom circle. No assortment of birds singing beautiful melodies. No strange feeling. Nothing at all. It was just a couple of trees in the middle of the meadow. Well, what did I think I’d find?

In the end, I took out Laura’s little booklet and went through it again. God knows, maybe there’d be a hint somewhere? I read through the pages once more, looked around the trees, but found nothing.

I reached the end of the booklet again. I once more I was at the last little part about identifying energy places. It said that you knew you’d found the right place by reciting certain lines and invocations she’d written down earlier in the book. They were supposed to have an effect on you. What this effect was she, of course, couldn’t tell.

I frowned and went back to those pages. Don’t ask me why I did it, but I actually went back and decided to recite some of them. I guess it was a mixture of curiosity and wanting to prove that there was nothing supernatural going on. Well, of course, I didn’t believe in the supernatural to begin with, but I guess one can never really know. You have to try it, at least once.

In a low voice, I started to recite the first of the many verses Laura had written down. It was so incredibly hard not to laugh in-between the lines. It was so stupid, I felt like a total idiot, out here reading the strange word creations she’d written down. I actually looked around every once in a while to see if anyone was nearby. God knows they’d not go easy on me if they saw me doing ‘witchcraft’ out here. Then I’d really be the new Laura Ebert.

What was weird though was how quickly I got used to Laura’s strange made-up language. At first, I struggled with each syllable, but soon enough it got much easier. It was as if something in my mind clicked. What was nothing but an assortment of letters before was now almost melodic sounding?

It took me a few minutes to finish the last of Laura’s supposed spells. Yeah, nothing happened again, big surprise. Now I actually was laughing and shaking my head. This was so dumb. Had I expected anything else? Had I secretly been hoping for fairies and little people to pop up?

The truth was, there was nothing, absolutely nothing to this silly little booklet. It was all the sad, esoteric ramblings of a woman who wanted to escape reality.

As I made my way back, I couldn’t stop shaking my head. I went all the way out here to prove what I’d know right from the start, that it was all bullshit.

After a while though, I couldn’t help but feel watched. I jerked around in a moment of disbelief. I half-expected to actually see one of Laura’s fairy creatures watching me.

Reality, though, was much more unsettling. There were no spirits out here. All there was, was Laura Ebert. I had no idea where she’d come from, but she was only a couple dozen meters behind me on the same path, staring right at me.

I quickly turned away when she smiled at me again. I told myself nothing was going on here. She was just out on one of her long walks and must’ve seen me. That was all.

Yet, as I kept walking and looking over my shoulder, I noticed that she was following me. I hurried down the path back towards the village until she was nothing but a small figure in the distance. I could’ve sworn she was still smiling then.

I was really glad when I was home. Her eyes, her smile, I couldn’t help but feel itchy. For a moment I felt the hairs on my arm stand up. Freaking hell, had she seen me at her stupid energy place? Don’t tell me she thought I was into her stuff as well now.

As I sat in front of the computer again, I couldn’t help but still feel watched. It was as if Laura’s presence was a shadow lingering over me. Once or twice, I could’ve sworn I wasn’t alone in my room. Whenever I turned though, there was no one. In a nightmarish vision, I saw Laura Ebert sitting in one of the corners of my room, still with a mad smile on her face.

As my thoughts centered around her more and more, so did my dreams. It didn’t matter what they were about, I always noticed her somewhere, smiling at me.

For days the dreams went on. Even worse though was the feeling that Laura not only haunted my dreams. Each day when I saw her out in the yard or walking down the street. It was almost as if she was always nearby.

I told myself it must be a coincidence. Laura was always outside. Yet, that feeling of being watched was ever-present.

It got stranger and stranger, even at home. I wondered if Laura was actually spying on me. What if she was outside my window now? Was she out there right now, staring up at me, waiting for me to look at her. Should I look? What if she was there, with that creepy smile of hers?

I was about to get up and prove that these were nothing but delusions when mom burst into the room.

“Where did you get this from?” she yelled at me holding up the small booklet.

Here we go again. Another rant about me getting involved with Laura Ebert. I sighed audibly.

“I got it from Lisa Knaute, mom. I asked her about Laura, the flower dance and all that other stuff. She also gave me that little booklet. It’s just Laura’s weird-“

“I know damn well what’s in it! I’d gotten one of these damned things, too!”

“What? Why do you..?”

For a moment mom was about to snap something back at me, but then she took a deep breath.

“Because I used to be friends with Laura,” she finally admitted.

“What you were friends with her? Why did you never say anything? Why did you get along with blaming her and-“

“Because of that night! Because of that damned dance of hers! I can’t believe she… I should’ve never taken part in it!”

“You were there? You were a part of it!? Is that why grandma was there as well?”

Mom gave me a weak nod.

“Calling Laura a friend was probably a bit much. We’d been part of the same group, but I was never close with her or anything,” she started.

“We never bounded. To be honest, she was a bit too weird. Really, I couldn’t stand her. I never understood why Lisa was so close to her. When we all graduated, I didn’t see her often anymore. I wasn’t surprised when she got married. She was pretty, beautiful mind you, but she also had a… history.”

I rolled my eyes but didn’t say a thing.

“To be honest, I didn’t care. I never cared much about her and what she was up to.”

“Did you know what happened to her after she’d gotten married?”

Mom sighed again. “So Lisa told you those things as well, didn’t she?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, everyone knew about it, but… ugh, it was none of our business, Sophie. You’re not supposed to barge into someone else’s life like that.”

“So instead you decided to ignore it,” I mumbled to myself.

Mom gave me an angry stare. “Don’t you dare Sophie? Of course, we talked about it, but what could we’ve done? If you talked to Lisa, you know as well as me that there was nothing!”

I had so many things I wanted to say to her right now. For a moment I felt all the anger at this disgusting village raise up inside of me, but then I fought the urge. Not this time, I closed my eyes, not this time.

“What about the dance then?” I asked in a strained voice.

“She approached me out of nowhere a couple of weeks before the fair. You have no idea how surprised I was to see her. Why would she choose me of all people? It made no sense! At the time I really didn’t want to get involved with her, but I felt sorry for her, everyone in our little group did. Seeing her so excited, seeing her smile and seeing how happy she was about it, it was heartbreaking. I felt guilty enough already, so I couldn’t bring myself to say no to her. And that’s when she handed me a small booklet, exactly like this one here.”

She held up Lisa’s small booklet.

“Why did you get one as well? I thought she’d just made one for Lisa? Didn’t you say you weren’t even real friends?”

Now, mom grinned a bit.

“She made them for everyone. Each one of us got her very own little booklet talking about all this… esoteric stuff. I only ever looked through it once but didn’t read much of it. I think I threw it away long before the fair. It was the same stuff she’d been going on about back in school.”

“Did she ever take you or anyone else to one of her weird places? For the dance?”

“What places? No. We only ever met at Beatrice’s place.”

“Beatrice?” I cut her off.

“Another friend of ours from school. She’s… moved away. She was the only one in our circle who showed any real interest in Laura’s stuff. God knows why. Either way, we always met up at her place to rehearse the dance. And of course, Laura hadn’t planned a normal dance. What she showed us was disgusting! None of us wanted to have anything to do with a thing like that. Even Beatrice was wary about it. We told her we’d agreed to take part in a flower dance, not whatever this was. Laura got mad at first but soon yielded. I guess it was because of the fight with Lisa, but at the time we didn’t know about it.”

“You didn’t know the two of them had a fight?”

Mom shook her head. “No, she never told us anything about it. Lisa didn’t show up anymore, and that was it. In the end, Laura said she really wanted to do it, even if it would be a boring old dance.”

“And you went along with it just like that?”

“What should’ve done Sophie? Laura’s whole behavior was one of desperation. We didn’t know what Laura would do if we’d back out. She was almost manic at the time!”

“And of course she didn’t do a boring old dance, at the fair, right?”

“No. During the day of the fair Laura was a completely different person. She seemed genuinely happy for the first time in a long while. She was actually having fun around other people. She flirted a bit here and there, but nothing serious. She was simply a young woman enjoying herself and the fair. Then sundown approached, and she gathered us together for the dance. There weren’t many people there, maybe a few dozen. Most of the villagers were at the festival hall. It was only friends and family, like your grandma and some of the older woman who’d done the flower dance in their youth.”

“It all started off normal enough. We were all dancing and whirling around in our dresses. Suddenly, though, Laura started to do weird things. We’d all hoped she’d not do anything like that, but I guess deep down we all knew she’d planned this. At first, we tried to continue with our dance, to get it over with. But then we couldn’t do it anymore, and everyone except Laura stopped. We all couldn’t help but stare at her. Her dance, if you can even call it that, was stranger than anything she’d ever shown us. We were perplexed, then disgusted, outraged even, but soon we were all entranced by it. Those… movements, they weren’t normal. A human body wasn’t designed to twist like that and those, those words. No,” mom shook her head.

“It was just wrong! If it had been sexy, erotic even, no one would’ve minded, but what she did was so outlandish! It was as if we were hypnotized, watching in awe as she twisted her body on the ground. It was as if she had too many joints in her body, too many bones, no too many limbs even. It was so utterly… unnatural and yet you couldn’t look away. Everyone was frozen watching this spectacle. And that’s when I saw it.”

“Saw what?”

“The shadows,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around herself. “There were moving in the twilight. They were dancing with Laura, moving along with her, entangling her and… I’m not sure what I saw anymore… but they were caressing her body. Then Laura was naked. I hadn’t seen her take her cloth off, but there she was, throwing herself on the ground naked, touching herself. And then there was all that blood. All of a sudden she was making these strange sounds, writhing in pain and cutting herself with this… thing. There was so much blood, it was almost like in a horror movie. When she started to scream in a different language I, no, everyone ran.

“You ran? Why didn’t anyone-“

“You weren’t there Sophie! You weren’t there! I didn’t decide to run, it was as if my body told me to! My instincts screamed at me to get away! Every fiber in my body told me ‘this was wrong.’ That dance was something that shouldn’t be done, something that didn’t belong in our small village!”

She still had her arms wrapped tightly around her body. She was shivering and rubbing her arms as if to make the memory of the night disappear.

“I don’t know what I saw or what she did, but…”

“So no one saw what actually happened? She cut herself and-“

“That’s enough, Sophie! Didn’t you listen to anything I just said?”

“But mom-“

“No! Don’t you ‘but mom’ me! I already told you way too much and, and,” she broke up again.

Finally, she signed and looked at me, this time her face wasn’t angry anymore. It was a look of severe and honest concern.

“The truth is, there’s someone who knows. Now you listen, Sophie. That stuff is dangerous, but I know you well enough. I know that even if I tell you not to, you’re going to look into it.”

“Mom, I-“

“I’ll tell you under one condition, a single one, alright? If I tell you, I want you to promise to me that you’ll stop afterward, alright? This has gone far enough already.

“Fine, whatever,” I said in a half-annoyed voice.

“Sophie! I’m serious! You’ll stop this whole thing! Promise me!”

While she said this, she reached out and grabbed hold of my arm. “Alright?” she asked one last time.

“Okay, mom. Alright. I promise.”

For a moment she eyed me carefully, trying to read my thoughts. Then she nodded.

“You know Mrs. Meier, right?”

I nodded. How could I forget her and my run-in with the late pastor’s wife not too long ago? Of course, she had to be involved in it.

“What’s she got to do with it?”

“She was there till the end. She didn’t run. She and her husband stayed. It was them who called her husband and actually brought her home after it was all over.”

“What did she say?”

“Well, she told everyone that there was some guy who’d been watching Laura and during the chaos, he must’ve-“

“Oh come on mom, are you kidding me? Who’s going to believe that? You’re telling me everyone ran because Laura did, I don’t know some pagan ritual? And then some guy decided to jump her in the middle of it? Really?”

“That’s what she told everyone, but,” she shook her head. I could see the disbelief painted on her face. I realized that mom knew as much as I did that it was all a lie. She knew that none of it made any sense.

“You know it’s not true, don’t you? You know it’s all lies!”

Mom didn’t answer me right away. “No Sophie. I don’t. If that’s what she said happened, then-“

“You’re still-” I started, but she cut me off right away.

“Go and talk to her then! I’m tired of talking about this… woman.”

With that, she got up, but then she quickly turned around and grabbed the small booklet.

“I’m getting rid of this,” she said holding it up to me.

This time, I didn’t protest.

Final Chapter – What Laura Called

I was reluctant when I stood in front of Miss Meier’s door. I knew this wouldn’t go well, but I still wanted to talk to her.

When I finally rang the bell, the wrinkly old woman opened the door almost instantly. It was almost as if she’d been waiting behind it all along. She measured me with her hard, angry eyes before she mumbled something to herself. I was sure she knew exactly why I was here.

“Hello Miss Meier,” I greeted her with my friendliest voice, “I’m here to ask you a few things about Laura.”

As soon as the name was out, she threw the door in my face. Well, not like I expected anything else. I was about to yell something, but then I resorted to ringing the doorbell again. After I did so twice more, she ripped the door open and started to lay into me before I could so much as utter a word.

“I’m not going to tell you a damned thing about that wench, girl! Now go and beat it!”

She was about to close the door again, but before she could, I spoke up.

“I know about that night!” I blurted out. “The flower dance, the pagan stuff, the weird things, the blood and-“

“Good god, girl! Not another word! Fine, get in!”

With that, she reached out and pulled me inside. She had a quick look up and down the hallway before she closed the door.

“I can’t believe it! I told you not to snoop around, and yet here you are! You silly girl, why did you have to look into it?”

“Because I want to know what happened! All this talk and all those rumors. No one knows a thing, yet you all…”

“And how did you find out about the dance? About what happened that night? Who told you? I might be old, but I’m not senile! Someone must’ve told you! Who? Was? It?”

While she spat those last words into my face, she rose her finger accusingly. At first I didn’t want to tell her, but finally, I admitted how I found out all about it.

“That damned Lisa! And your mother, too! Margarete was always a bit dim, but so are you for putting your little nose into this! Well, but that’s all there is to it! I saw nothing that night, nothing at all!”

“Is that so?” I started. “Then what would happen if I’d talk about it? I’m going to start this whole thing again. I’m going to tell everyone that I know there was no rape and that it was all your lies!”

At this, she actually laughed a bit. It was a rough, rusty sound that seemed to make its way up from deep inside of her body.

“Well, guess you’re not exactly like your mother. Fine, then listen, but I dare you. If you tell anyone, I’ll make sure you’ll regret it.”

This time her stare was more than angry. It was malignant, a promise that these last words weren’t just empty threats. I couldn’t help but nod right away.

“What that… what Laura did that night was sacrilegious, heretically and no, I’m not talking about that damned dance of hers. I’m talking about what she called here.”

“What she… called here?”

“Everyone knew about her interests, her witchcraft, devil-worshiping, and her curses. That girl was always bad news, always! She should’ve never been allowed to take part in our fair. Yet those damned idiots spoke out for her. That’s what they all get…”

“But what happened that night?”

“You’re as impatient as they come aren’t you, girl?”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean-“

“Pah. Then shut up and listen!”

“That night I was there, watching her little skit. It sounded harmless enough. The good old flower dance. And all those idiots believed her. Oh, I’d warned them and so did my husband. ‘What’s the worst that could happen’ they all asked. ‘So what if she’s ruining her silly dance’ they said. ‘No one would be there anyway.’ But I knew that wench had something else planned. I knew it! Not enough that she showed us that disgusting, hypnotic dance that entranced us all-“

“That’s what mom said too! That everyone was in some sort of trance!”

“You want to hear what I have to say or not?”

This time I only nodded.

“When chaos broke out everyone run, everyone but my husband and me. At first, we’d only seen her cut herself, but then we saw something else. There was something on top of her. I wasn’t able to make it out exactly. It thought it was a man, one of her many suitors, but it wasn’t. It was almost a mixture of men and animal, but much, much worse. It was clawing at her, cutting her skin and pushing her to the ground. All the while that wench was screaming, but oh they got it all wrong. She wasn’t screaming in pain, oh no, those were the screams of a whore, of pleasure! She screamed and moan as that thing was copulating with her! Once it was over though and that ungodly creature had gotten of her, there was something else. Between the blood, something else pushed its way out of her body! That thing, that thing must’ve…” she broke up, breathing heavily.

“What was that… thing?”

“Girl, I don’t know what it was, and I don’t want to know!”

“But what happened afterward? What did these things do?”

I got another angry stare and snapped my mouth shut in an instant.

“They vanished. Just like that, they were gone. All the shadows retreated as well, and only Laura Ebert was left. She was on the ground, panting and moaning before passing out. At this moment I hoped, no I prayed that she’d be dead. That this damned woman was gone and she’d never be able to anything like that ever again. But of course she was alive! While I stood there, do you know what I thought? Do you know what went through my mind!?”

“N-no?”

“It would only be a few seconds,” she said with the most hideous smile I’d ever seen in my whole life.

“It would only take a few seconds, and it would all be over. But my husband, my God have him dear, he pulled me off her. He screamed at me to not defile myself. I shouldn’t commit the worst of sins because of this godforsaken whore of the devil!”

I opened my mouth but wasn’t able to say a thing. I could almost see the hatred emanating from her.

“And then they brought dis drunk husband of hers over, and he took his wife home! I couldn’t believe it!”

“They didn’t call an ambulance? What about the blood?”

“Hah! Of course not! One look at her and you knew she was almost completely unhurt! It made no sense, her body should’ve been torn to a bleeding, shredded mess, yet she was completely fine! The only thing you could still see where the marks my hands had left on her neck.”

“She should’ve died that night,” she yelled out, “and I wish, I wish I’d have gone through with it!”

The old woman was shaking by now. I was so utterly disgusted by her, but it was soon over, and she let herself fall into her reading chair.

“You know girl, this used to be a nice and happy village. But because of her, because of that night, it all changed! The only one to blame is that whore! She had to mess with those things! You know, everyone says she got what she deserved, everyone, but she didn’t. She should’ve died that night! For what she did to our small town, she shouldn’t have gotten away so easily. Losing her mind, being out there, screaming and cursing, it’s not enough. We don’t deserve to see her out there every day. She still mocking us now. That’s what she does, taunting us! Even now she’s keeping up her damned games. It’s because of her that all those bad things happened! All because of her!”

“Bad things?”

“You’re really as blind as your mother! Did you ever wonder why my husband died only weeks after the fair? Where did that pneumonia come from that took old Ursula and Libby a week later? That father of yours too! You think that accident was normal? It’s all because of Laura Ebert. What do you think made me look like this? This damned disease that’s eating away at my body and slowly turning my insides into mush? That’s all her doing! That’s her revenge, her curse! She tainted not only me, no, she tainted all of us! This whole village is corrupted and defiled!”

Right then her eyes focused on me, and for a moment I saw the hint of a smile on her face.

“And she defiled you too.”

I shuddered at her words. At first, I wanted to ask her what she was talking about, but then I remembered something else. Something I’d wondered about ever from the start.

“Then why all this talk about rape?”

“Because it’s easier! Everyone knows she was promiscuous! Even during her school days! No one wants to remember what actually happened! No one wants to talk about it! And no one wants to talk about those things that now lurk in the shadows during the night! But you just had to dig, didn’t you? You just had to know!”

“Things out… there?”

This time the smile on her face didn’t disappear.

“Oh, I know you noticed them, girl. I know you’ve felt them staring at you. I can read it on your face, and I can feel them around you. And I know that you’ll suffer like the rest of us!”

With that, the insane old woman started cackling in front of me. “She got you too, you dumb, silly girl!”

It was at this moment I had enough. This whole damned village was insane. I left and went home as fast as I could.

After that day I followed the promise I’d given my mother and didn’t bother with Laura anymore.

I wish this would be the end of my story. I wish that after I learned all that I was able to move on and get back to my normal life.

Each night though I had trouble sleeping. Miss Meier’s words were reverberating in my mind. The things out in the night were watching me, she’d said. As if to prove her right, I felt as if with each passing day, the night turned a tad bit darker.

What brought me to write this all down, weren’t those feelings though. It was because of a run-in with Lisa a few days ago. She gave me a weak smile. After we’d exchanged greetings, I remembered the booklet she’d given to me.

“I almost forgot, thanks for bringing me that booklet! You told me Laura was weird, but it really was something else!”

“What booklet, Sophie?”

“The booklet Laura made for you. The one you dropped off at our mailbox.”

“That one? Oh dear, but I never found it. I’m pretty sure I lost it a long time ago.”

“But then,” I started but broke up. I left Lisa standing in confusion and hurried home. I asked grandma who’d dropped it off, but she only said it was in the mailbox one morning. When mom returned home, I confronted her about it. She told me the same thing though. She’d gotten rid of the booklet soon after Laura gave it to her.

I was so confused. My mind became a vortex of all sorts of thoughts and ideas until a single one stuck out to me.

It didn’t take me long to find her. She was out on one of the paths as usual. This time she noticed me right away. And like last time she smiled at me. When she saw my anger though, her expression turned into a wide grin. At that moment I knew I was right.

When Laura walked towards me, I didn’t move. This time I didn’t turn away. I was done being scared by this insane woman.

When she got closer though, I instinctively cringed back. A surge of fear like none before washed over me. Right then Laura’s grin broke apart, and she started to laugh.

“You see it now, don’t you little girl?”

I opened my mouth. “What did you,” I started, but broke up when I did indeed see it.

I saw the disfigured, fleshy abomination that clung to Laura’s shoulder. There was no face, just a gaping toothless maw, a dark hole in a grown-together heap of flesh. I screamed up in shock and disbelief. I stumbled back and fell on the ground.

At that moment I heard the thing. I heard it speak. Trying to describe its abominable voice would be impossible, but I knew its language. It was the same one that Laura had written her many verses, or better, her curses in.

I watched as Laura turned to it and whispered something back at it.

Then she looked back at me and burst out laughing again.

“I knew it! I knew it the day I saw you out there! You did it, didn’t you? I got you, little girl. Just like Beatrice. You did it too, right? You read from my little booklet.”

She turned back at the thing on her shoulder when it let out another gush of obscure words. “I know, I know, it all turned out exactly like you said it would.”

“My little boy said you were a bit too enthusiastic. You read them all, didn’t you? You went through the whole number of them, right? Can you see him? You can, right? You can see him, and you can feel him, too.”

And at that moment, for only a second I felt something breathe down my neck. As I turned around though there was nothing there. I was a shivering, shaking mess and looked up at Laura in sheer terror. The thing on her shoulder was still there and as Laura had done before it now opened its maw to let out a gurgling laugh.

“Run home little girl, run like you did last time. But this time it won’t do you any good. It won’t! Even if you try to run away like Beatrice, it won’t! He will get you!”

She still laughed and taunted me as I ran off, but when I was halfway home, I saw it. At the edge of Laura’s energy place, back in the forest, I saw a giant, hulking figure. It was neither man nor animal, it was something much, much worse.

It’s been almost a week since then, and things have gotten much worse. I don’t go out anymore. It’s because of the shades and shadows outside. I can see them follow me, reaching out for me and gathering around my window. So many times I felt this presence near me.

I know this thing, this devil, is taunting me, preying on me.

I looked up Beatrice. She moved away from this village years ago, but only a few months afterward she was found dead in her new apartment. The case was never solved.

By now I know that this dark figure is here. I know that it’s watching me as I type. I can feel it’s breath on my neck and I can hear it whisper into my ears. There’s nothing I can do anymore.

I know now, what a mistake it was to look into all of this. I know that Laura Ebert had been out for revenge all along. Revenge on this whole damn village that had forsaken her.

Laura Ebert might have been a slut, she might have been a wench and a whore.

What she really is though is a trickster, a witch, and a devil worshiper.

The Visitor

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.

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