Underbelly

The city I live in is one of those popular tourist destinations. It’s an old city, one with a rich history, full of beautiful architecture, and a plethora of sightseeing attractions. Most importantly, though, it’s a clean city. For the most part, at least. People always forget the dirty network of tunnels that make up the city’s underbelly: the sewers.

That’s where I work. Times have changed, of course. When people hear you’re working in the sewers, they presume you wade through shit and sewage all day, but they couldn’t be more wrong. These days, we’re mostly working with machinery and robots. It’s rare that we actually have to set foot in the tunnels ourselves.

About a week ago was one such day. Our equipment had shown us that there was a pressure issue in one of the tunnels. To find out what exactly was wrong, my colleague Andrew and I had to go down there for a manual check-up. I hated those days. You never got used to them. Wading through those dark, sticky tunnels is not only claustrophobic, but as disgusting as it sounds. What makes it even worse is the smell.

Most of what’s down there is shit, toilet paper, and fatbergs. Consider yourself lucky if you don’t know what the third one is. And yet, people flush all sorts of other things down their toilets. I’ve seen trash, dead animals, but also medicine, clothing, batteries and even an iPhone. The funniest thing I saw was a dildo that slowly swam past me.

On that day, things were different.

Our city’s old, and various types of sewage treatment facilities have been used throughout the decades. While some of the old systems have been modernized, others were simply abandoned. Because of this, there’s an entire second network of old, dilapidated tunnels.

Where we had to go that day was a tunnel right below one of the city’s major sightseeing attractions. Without even looking at the plans, I knew what it meant. There was no way we could enter the sewers right there. Our boss made one thing clear: tourists on their fancy sightseeing trips didn’t want to see dirty sewage workers. This meant we’d have to use an entrance a couple hundred meters away, and make our way to the problem area underground.

Our maps told us we’d have to circle the entire city center, which would take us almost an entire hour. Yet we soon found a different route, one that would lead us through some of the old sewer tunnels. They were declared off limits because of safety issues, but we couldn’t care less. It would cut our trip in half.

We’d barely entered the old tunnels when Andrew got quiet. He crouched down to pick something up.

“What’s up? You found something you like?” I asked jokingly.

For a moment, he was quiet. When he turned back to me, his face was serious, and I could see that he was holding a kid’s baseball cap in his hands.

“It’s probably been flushed down here somehow, but…”

His voice trailed off, but I nodded. We all knew these old, half-hidden tunnels held some sort of strange fascination with the local kids. It’s usually nothing serious; a bit of exploring here, leaving some graffiti there, that type of thing.

A few years ago, however, a kid went missing down here. At first, everyone thought the boy would turn up eventually, but he must’ve lost his way and wandered these tunnels for days. It was Andrew who found him, or rather… what was left of him. That day had changed him, and from then on, he was much more serious whenever we found hints of kids down here.

As we continued on, we kept our eyes open for clues.

A couple of minutes later, we ended up in front of a metal sewer gate that kept us from going any further. I was a bit confused. Why was it down here? I thought they’d stripped the old tunnels back in the day. Even stranger, it looked kind of… new. I went forward to have a closer look, but I’d only taken a few steps when something touched my leg. I jerked back.

“Shit! There’s something down here,” I cursed.

“What do you mean?” Andrew asked, instantly alarmed.

“No clue, bumped into something. Hold on,” I said, taking out my flashlight.

As I pointed the beam at the water in front of me, I finally saw what I’d bumped into. It was the bloated, half-rotten corpse of a child. I stumbled back, crashed right into Andrew, and brought us both down.

“The hell are you doing?!” he yelled at me.

“It’s… it’s a child,” I stammered. “The body of a child’s down there!”

I got back up and pointed the flashlight at the spot ahead of us. There it was, gently rocking back and forth in the sewage water before us.

“Jesus Christ,” Andrew whispered.

While I was still stunted, Andrew rushed forward, and carefully tried to lift the small body. He’d barely raised it above the water level when it broke apart and vanished again. For a moment, he stood there, looking at his hands in a mixture of shock and misery, before he retched and vomited.

Still grasping onto my flashlight, I set out for him, but stopped after only a single step. My eyes grew wide.

“There’s more,” I mumbled.

I slowly moved the beam of the flashlight further, and there, behind the gate, I saw dozens of other corpses.

“What the absolute fuck,” Andrew said, as he looked in the beam’s direction.

For a moment, he was frozen, just staring ahead, before he turned back to me, his face a mask of terror.

“Maybe a graveyard or something,” I whispered, struggling to make sense of what I was seeing.

I opened my mouth again, but closed it the instant I heard something from afar. Footsteps, and they were getting closer! Instantly, I motioned for Andrew to be quiet, and turned off my flashlight and my helmet’s headlight. A few moments later, he did the same thing.

As we stood there, in the darkness, my eyes darted around, trying to find some sort of hiding place, but I couldn’t see a damned thing. All the while, someone was getting closer to us from the other side of the gate. Eventually, not knowing what else to do, I did the same thing Andrew had done. I crouched down. The smell was almost unbearable, and I had to fight the urge to vomit as the disgusting sewage water splashed against my lips. I tried my hardest not to think about the corpses in the water ahead of us.

“… Rats should take care of them,” a deep voice ahead of us said, and then started laughing.

I noticed the distant beam of a flashlight, but it was too far away to make out anything.

“There’s too many, for fuck’s sake. You really think the rats will eat all this?” a second voice chimed in, followed by a splash.

“Well, we could always throw in a bit of that stuff and cook ‘em all up.”

“Nah, the boss told us not to use that shit down here. The sewer guys will notice, and then we’re in even bigger shit than we already are.”

Another splash.

“The boss can go fuck off for all I care! Takes no genius to know what will happen. With all that food down here, the rats will breed like crazy. We’ll be back at square one, only that it won’t be the hobos but the rats this time.”

“Shut up, you idiot! If anyone hears you talk like this-“

“No one will know if you keep your mouth shut!”

The two voices rattled on, their sick jokes echoing eerily through the dark sewer tunnel.

I crouched there in the water, frozen in shock and disbelief. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Jesus Christ, what the fuck?

I don’t know for how long we waited. Eventually, the light vanished, and the chatter of the two voices ebbed away. Yet for minutes we didn’t dare move. Then, slowly and quietly, we waded back in complete darkness. We were both quiet, both shocked and scared shitless, because we knew what we’d just witnessed.

Ours is a fancy city, a beautiful one, with a rich history, full of beautiful architecture, and a plethora of sightseeing attractions. Most importantly, though, it’s a clean city. But like any city, ours too has its problems, its hidden corners. In recent years, rent skyrocketed, leaving many barely scraping by and many others out in the streets. The homeless became an eyesore, a problem for the city’s pristine image. Wealthy tourists didn’t come here to see beggars on the sidewalk or huddled around the train stations. Something had to be done, the new mayor said. He promised to solve the city’s homeless problem, announced grand housing projects and new job opportunities.

Guess he found a simpler solution.

One might wonder how no one notices dozens or even hundreds of people going missing, but that’s just how people are, especially in a snobbish and vibrant city like ours. No one cares about the homeless. They are nothing but a nuisance. No one’s going to think twice about a missing beggar or a group of drunks. All they care about is that they’re gone.

We didn’t finish work that day. We both made excuses and left.

That evening, the two of us got together for a talk. We argued about what to do for the entire night. I still remember the frustration on Andrew’s face, the anger in his voice. He said we’d have to do something, to go to the cops and make this entire thing public. We couldn’t just let them get away with it. I told him to lie low for the time being. We had no clue who was involved, and without evidence, no one would believe us, anyway. In the end, he nodded and agreed with me.

Two days later, we were scheduled on a shift together, but he never showed up. I tried to convince myself that nothing had happened, and was still too traumatized by what we’d seen that day. Yet I had a strange feeling about it. After my shift was over, I called Andrew’s wife; she confirmed my suspicion. She’d no idea where her husband was. She’d gone to the police, but so far, they had no leads.

I’m so freaking scared right now; I don’t know what Andrew did. Maybe he really went to talk to the cops, or maybe he went down there again on his own. The only thing I know is that something happened to him. What makes it even worse is that whenever we have to go down there, we always do so in pairs. It’s common procedure.

Whoever took care of my colleague knows he wasn’t down there alone. And I’m sure, by now, they know I was with him that day.

There’s a Rat Epidemic Happening in My Town

Rats. I’ve always hated rats. They are disgusting.

Imagine how I reacted when I found one of them in my kitchen.

At first, I was shocked, then disgusted and finally angry. A couple of minutes later I threw the dead rat in a trash bag and got rid of it.

After that, I spent almost another hour in the kitchen to find out where the damned thing had come from. There was nothing, no holes or entrances. I hadn’t the slightest idea.

Now I know, rats aren’t too uncommon, but I live in one of the nicest areas of town. There shouldn’t be any vermin here at all.

I felt a bit awkward when I stood in front of my neighbor’s apartment the next day. I explained to him what had happened, but he reassured me that he’d never had any rat problems. In a condescending tone he told me that it might be a good idea to call the housing company.

Back in my apartment I sighed. I was about to dial the number, but then I put the phone back down. I wasn’t in the mood for all that trouble. Then, I convinced myself that it must have been a onetime thing and that the rat most likely snuck in via a window.

Two days later I woke up in the middle of the night by a noise. It sounded like a low rumbling. Was it coming from the pipes?

Soon enough though I saw something move.

In my shock I slapped the switch of the night lamp. Something big and hairy scuttled away and vanish under my bed.

I cursed, knowing that it must be another rat.

I proved to be only half right, this time it turned out to be two of them. Again, I had no idea where they’d come from. After I’d caught them I made my way to the kitchen to get another trash bag. The moment I hit the light switch, I saw more of them rush away. I screamed up as they vanished behind the kitchen cupboards and rushed out past me into the hallway. There must be at least a dozen of them.

I dialed the number of the housing company, but an automated message informed me that I could only reach them during business hours. Freaking hell, I cursed, it was barely three. I’d have to wait forever before anyone would answer.

For an hour I tried to hunt down the rats, but it was futile. They were way too fast for me to catch them. Exhausted and angry I retreated to the living room. For whatever reason none of them were there.

I tried to fall asleep on the couch, but hearing the rats scurry around outside made it impossible. I feared that they’d find some secret way inside and so I ended up laying there half-awake for hours.

In the morning I informed work that I’d be in late today due to some issues at my apartment. After that, I called the housing company. I’d to wait in line for almost twenty minutes until I was greeted by a friendly female voice.

I explained my problem and could hear an audible sigh before she asked for my address. After holding the line for another minute or two, she informed me that someone would be at my place within the hour.

I was surprised when the doorbell rang only minutes later. I left the safety of the living room behind and almost ran to the front door. Things were so much worse than I’d thought. The rats were everywhere.

A tired looking man from the housing company and two exterminators greeted me. Well, at least they are taking things serious, I thought.

The man from the housing company lost no time. He asked me when I’d first noticed the rats and how many I thought there were. While I told him, the two exterminators made their way inside.

I found out that I wasn’t the only one with a rat problem. That’s why they’d been here so quickly. They’d been in an apartment below me. Altogether four people from this building had called about rats and there’d been more complaints all over the city. The whole thing had been going on for days.

When I asked him if he knew where all those rats came from, he told me he’d no clue. He thought they might have come in via the ventilation system or the pipes, but his guess was as good as mine.

He told me that getting rid of the rats and finding out where they’d come from might take the whole day or even longer. It might be best to let them do their job and check back on things later. They’d inform me via email as soon as things were done.

I nodded. Sure, I was quite annoyed, but I couldn’t blame the guy. He was just doing his job and I could tell he was sick of it already.

I went back inside, put on some decent clothes and made my way to work.

When work ended, I still hadn’t gotten an email.

The moment the tram arrived at my station I knew that something was wrong. Even from where I was I heard the noise. Police cars lined the streets and I could see an ambulance as well.

What the hell was going on, I wondered as I hastened to the building.

Once I was close enough, I saw that the whole building was blocked off by the police. Countless people were gathered outside.

I went straight for one of the police officers and asked him what was going on. He told me that the building had to be evacuated due to suspicion of a rat epidemic. When I asked about the ambulance, he said he couldn’t give me any information.

No one else could give me a definite answer either. That was until I noticed a commotion near an older lady. People gathered around her and asked her what she’d seen.

She said she lived on the ground floor and was one of the first to be informed about the evacuation. When she was led outside, she saw that the paramedics made their way into one of the apartments nearby. When she stopped the police pushed her on, but she was able to peek inside for a moment.

“There was blood everywhere, it looked like one of those horrible crime scenes. I am sure it must have been those damned rats!”

I shuddered and walked back to the police to ask how long the building would remain blocked off like this. The officer told me it was an indefinite period of time and it’d be best to find another place to stay.

I ended up staying at a friend’s for the next couple of nights.

There wasn’t much on the internet about the whole incident. What I discovered was that five apartment buildings had been evacuated altogether.

All that because of rats? Where the hell were they even coming from? Had they really attacked people?

It was a week before I got a notice that us residents were allowed back into our buildings. The email explained in detail what had happened.

The rats had been breeding unnoticed in the old sewer tunnels. These tunnels were located not only below mine but many other buildings in town.

For reasons yet unknown, the rats had started to dig their way up from below. That way they’d created countless tunnels that led not only to the surface but all the way up through the walls of the buildings.

As I kept reading, I found out that there were dozens of tunnels that wound through the outer walls of the building. That’s how the rats must have made their way up into my apartment. There must’ve been holes somewhere behind the cupboards or the cabinets. I’d never checked there.

For now, the email said the tunnels had been closed off and we were allowed back into our buildings. It was only a temporary solution though and the building would need to be renovated in due time.

I somehow couldn’t feel at home at my place. I knew they’d said the tunnels were sealed off, but I thought I could still heard things in the walls. It must be my imagination, I told myself.

While going through the local news sites, I found an article that talked about ‘The Victims of the Rat Epidemic’. As I read on, I found out that at least three people had been found dead in their apartments and many others were still missing. People had died?

For a moment the image of waking up in the middle of the night and being swarmed by dozens of rats came to my mind. I imagined them scurrying all over my body and tearing at my flesh with their tiny mouths. I quickly pushed it out of my mind.

That night, as I lay in bed the thought of the rats in the walls, didn’t leave me alone. Each time I closed my eyes I feared they’d be pouring from holes in the walls to devour me. In my mind I saw them scurrying over my body and tearing at my flesh with their tiny mouths. It took me more than an hour before I drifted off into a light sleep.

It was not even two in the morning when I woke up. I heard the same low rumbling I remembered from before. From the night all those rats had appeared in my apartment.

I jumped off the bed and put my ear against the wall. There was nothing, thank God. Then the rumbling started again. It was over in a few seconds, but I could tell that it was definitely not the pipes.

I didn’t get to think about what it was as a skittering erupted in the wall next to me. Weren’t the tunnels closed off?

It got louder and louder until it seemed the wall was reverberating from inside. I fled from the bedroom to the safety of the living room. There had been no rats in here so I hoped I’d be safe.

There was suddenly a loud noise and then one of the cupboards started to shake before it fell forward.

I cringed back in shock, afraid to see hundreds of rats rushing towards me.

As if to answer this fear a rat sprang from the wall and ran in my direction. It didn’t get to reach me. Only moments after it had escaped the walls, something caught it and dragged it backward.

The rat squeaked and tried to get away desperately only to vanished inside of the wall again. What the hell was going on?

The moment I hit the light switch I saw what had caught the rat, but I couldn’t understand what I was seeing. It was a formless, slithering mass of flesh that pushed itself through the tunnel in the wall. I saw dozens of openings all over it, some filled with misshapen teeth others were nothing but gaping maws.

As I stood there. I saw how lumps of disgusting flesh pushed outward and formed into eyes that focused on me.

An indescribable sound escaped the monstrosity in front of me before it burst, no surged from the wall. Bits and piece of plaster vanished, as the liquid mass of flesh pushed itself into my direction.

Here and there it tore apart momentarily only to fuse back together. At one point I saw a screaming, half-digested rat burst from the slithering mass of tissue just to vanish again.

It was the sight of this rat that brought me back to reality and made me run from the apartment. Behind me I heard the roaring of whatever this thing was as it crashed forward.

I was out in the hallway, then on the stairs and then made my way outside. I heard the ground rumble once more. Screams and noises erupted from the building in front of me. More and more people streamed from the building. Everyone was in a state of utter panic.

People screamed and cried about monsters in the walls, as the ground below rumbled once more.

At that moment it hit me. I’d heard this rumbling first when the rats appeared.

Had it really been the rats who dug those tunnels? Or had the rats just used them to flee from those things? Was that why there had been none in my living room? Because that’s where the tunnel had ended? Had they just tried to get away from whatever was down below our town as fast as possible?

My thoughts returned to the bloodied apartment, to the killed and missing people. Could it really have been the rats?

No, I thought, those people must have fallen prey to these otherworldly masses of flesh.

And now, as it rumbled yet again, I knew that these things kept digging their way up into my town.

Special Diet

The miracle of birth never ceases to amaze me. I guess that’s why I ended up becoming a midwife.

There aren’t many independent midwives anymore, and a decade ago, I’d have called it a dying profession. It’s only because of the popularity of alternate lifestyles, and new age believes that home birth have become somewhat popular again.

I’d worked as a midwife for more than three decades when I met Jana and Christian Meyer. They were a young couple in their mid-twenties. Both of them had been born into wealthy families, something that showed markedly in their lifestyle. They were the picture-perfect depiction of a new age couple: organic diets, meditation retreats, and the avoidance of hospitals and modern medicine. That’s why they’d contacted me about a home birth. I was never a fan of this type of reasoning, and, frankly, I considered them quite weird. But who was I to judge them?

As with many other clients, I met up with Jana Meyer a few times to discuss the particulars of a home birth. Many people had their own ideas about them, and wanted them to be unique; their perfect vision of childbirth. When Jana told me she wanted her birth to be as simple as possible, I was surprised. I’d have thought she’d be precisely the type who’d go for some sort of spiritual water birth or whatever was popular at the moment.

What made things even stranger was that whenever I visited her to discuss the details of the birth, she’d soon change the topic to her lifestyle. She’d go on about special diets, morning rituals, ginseng paste, and many other, similar topics. She even urged me on to try them out myself. I sat through those episodes awkwardly. The day Jana got out her books to give me a more detailed overview, I finally told her I wasn’t interested, and was only here to talk about the birth of her child. She was taken aback, but eventually nodded.

When the day of the birth arrived, I was still somewhat worried. You could never tell what would happen with these types of people. As it turned out, there was no reason for worry. The Meyers followed my instructions to the point, the birth went exceptionally well, and soon the mother could hold her child. The two of them smiled at each other, and were ecstatic at the sight of their daughter. The prejudice I’d held for them instantly melted away. In the end, we were all the same. We all loved our children the moment they are born.

What was a bit weird, was that the two of them told me they’d handle the rest by themselves. I protested, of course, but after a quick examination of mother and child, I yielded.

A week later, I visited the Meyers again. It’s common procedure. Once a week has passed, I check up on my clients to see if everything was all right. If there were any complications or problems, I could usually give them advice on what to do. If necessary, I could transfer them to a doctor I used to work with. The Meyers, however, were doing great. There was no doubt, they’d prepared themselves, and must’ve consulted a variety of books. Christian had even taken a vacation to take care of his wife and their newborn daughter. Jana was still a bit exhausted, but seemed fine otherwise. The two of them even invited me to a dinner party the planned to hold in a month, and I promised I’d be there.

When the day of the party arrived, I was a bit reluctant to follow through. I could tell that this would be a party for hip, young people like the Meyers, and I wasn’t interested in organic diets or alternate lifestyles either. In the end, it was professional reasons that made me go. Maybe Jana had a few female friends who considered a home birth themselves. It wasn’t the first time I’d met new clients that way.

The moment I arrived, the other guests were already there. I’d brought a little toy for the baby, which I thought would be a nice gesture. When Jana opened it, a puzzled expression washed over her face before it was replaced by a smile.

“Oh, for the baby, of course, thank you so much,” she said, hugging me briefly.

Then she led me to the dinner table. As I’d expected, all the guests were the same age as the Meyers. Awkwardly, and in a few short words, I introduced myself as the midwife who’d helped to deliver Jana and Christian’s baby. People smiled and introduced themselves in turn. They were all either academics or wealthy upstarts, making me feel even more out of place.

I was surprised, and somewhat confused when I learned that the theme of the party wasn’t a baby shower, but a special diet. At that moment, I realized the baby wasn’t even in the room. Jana was busy preparing the food in the kitchen, while Christian was chatting with two of his guests. I reasoned the baby was probably asleep in the bedroom.

Finally, after another half hour of sitting in my chair quietly, half-listening to the ongoing conversations, Jana joined the table. She brought a steaming pot of stew, and put it down in the center of the table. It was a creamy meat stew, Jana began to explain. As she served it, carefully filling each guest’s bowls, she rambled on about how healthy it was supposed to be. It was a new recipe she’d prepared just for this special occasion.

The moment, I saw the bowl of stew in front of me, I was a bit unnerved. The smell was weird, the consistency looked almost slimy, and the meat didn’t look like any I’d seen before. I looked up, and whispered to Jana that I wasn’t supposed to eat anything too creamy because it was bad for my stomach. When she heard this, Jana, just smiled at me and urged me on to try it anyway.

“Who knows,” she said. “It might actually be good for your stomach.”

I sat at the table sipping from a glass of water, while the other guests began eating. After the first mouthfuls they were almost devouring the stew. Soon people were asking for second and even third servings. Yet I could only look down at the bowl in front of me. I sank the spoon into the slimy liquid, careful to avoid the meat pieces, and brought it toward my mouth. It tasted weird, a bit too sweat, but also strangely sour. The consistency was as slimy as I’d expected, and I had to fight not to spit it out in disgust. After that, I didn’t eat any more of it. The rest of the guests, however, seemed utterly pleased by the meal, and quite a few of them asked Jana to share the recipe with them.

At this point, Jana mentioned the placenta. She claimed it was one of the most nutritious organs in nature, and that many exotic cultures used it in cleansing rituals. Animals even ate it after giving birth to restore lost energy. As I listened, my eyes darted to the pot still resting on the table. Those strange meat pieces… Don’t tell me…?

I got my answer from Christian. Once the two of them heard about the supposed health benefits of the placenta, they had to give it a try. But they couldn’t use someone else’s; it had to be Jana’s own. Thus, the two of them, he said, needed to have a baby. Unfortunately, a woman’s placenta wasn’t every large. It wouldn’t be enough to sustain more than a few people. That’s why he and Jana had done something else.

With that, he led everyone to a different room; a strange mixture of an office and a laboratory. Before I could react, Christian revealed a giant glass. I gasped, and took a step back. It was filled with a strange liquid, and in it swam a chunk of tissue, one way, way too large. I almost gagged, but all the lunatics around me stared at it with wide, glowing eyes.

Christian explained the process to the exhilarated crowd. He talked about cultivation, but also one particular ingredient, but I didn’t listen, I couldn’t. This… this insanity was why they’d wanted a baby? Was that why they didn’t care about the type of the birth? I thought back to their beaming expressions, their blissful smiles. It had all been in anticipation of this. It had never been about the child!

The baby, I suddenly thought. I’d not seen or heard her this entire evening. Where was she? The word’s particular ingredient reverberated inside my mind.

“Where’s the child?” I asked in a shaken voice.

“It’s only natural, Claudia,” Jana started. “The child was nourished by it for so long… it had to give back.”

In that instant, I rushed to the bedroom. There was no child, no crib, and no toys. I could see none of the things I remembered from the check-up!

“She’s not here anymore,” Jana said, standing in the door.

My eyes grew wide.

“Don’t tell me you-“

“Oh, believe me, we loved her Claudia, we loved her so much, but there was no other way.”

“You’re insane,” I mumbled, and pushed myself past her.

I made my way to the dining room, but I could hear Jana following me.

“What are you planning to do, Claudia?”

“I won’t let you get away with-“

“With what? What are you going to tell people? Do you think anyone even knows about the child? Don’t you think we planned this entire thing?”

I stared at her as she said this. Then she burst out laughing.

“Oh, Claudia, who do you think the authorities will believe? A young, educated couple, or an old midwife? Do you think anyone’s going to believe an insane story about child murders and placentas? Really?”

She gave me the most malicious, condescending smile I’d ever seen. For a few more seconds, we stared at each other. Then I grabbed my purse and jacket.

“You won’t get away with this, I swear!” I spat at her before I stormed out of the apartment.

Once I was on the stairs, I heard new bouts of laughter from behind the closed door.

The moment I was out of the building, I went straight to the police and told them everything. I’d thought they’d storm their apartment, and they would lock them up for the rest of their lives. But, of course, Jana had been right. There was no proof of the child. All the documents they’d provided must’ve been faked.

In the end, the whole thing was turned around, and I almost got charged with false accusations. It was only because of Jana and her husband not pressing charges that the entire thing was dropped.

After this experience, I couldn’t work as a midwife anymore. For months, I couldn’t think about anything but what must’ve happened to that poor baby girl. Eventually, I found a new job at a grocery store, and I was slowly able to forget about what had happened.

That was until a week ago. As I walked down the street on my way home, I recognized a young couple walking towards me. I recognized them instantly. The moment they reached me, Jana Meier smiled at me.

“I hope it’s a boy this time,” I heard her say to her husband as the two of them walked away.

I Found Something in an Abandoned Mansion Near My Village

There is an abandoned mansion near my village.

Now I know, abandoned buildings aren’t anything special, but here is something strange about this one. You see, it’s not an old building, but a brand new one.

The construction started almost a decade ago and lasted for more than nine years. Everyone was sure that some rich, old guy would move in, but that never happened. It seemed as if the place was abandoned as soon as it was finished.

I was still a kid when I heard the news that someone had bought a giant plot of land near our village and soon construction of the mansion started.

My friend and I went to the construction site almost daily. It was fascinating. We loved to watch all the huge cranes, trucks and bulldozers.

The construction workers and the foreman weren’t too happy about us sneaking around. Whenever they noticed us, they’d yell at us and told us to scram.

It wasn’t long before a wall was built around the property to keep other unwanted visitors and us out. Sure, we tried to get in countless times, to the dismay of our parents, but we never succeeded. In the end we gave up.

As the years passed the construction continued slowly and quietly. No one cared about it anymore and it had become another part of life.

People only started to talk about the place again when the construction was finished. Everyone wanted to see who the person was that had spent all those years constructing his dream home.

No one ever came. The construction workers left, the heavy machinery vanished, and that was it. No one was around anymore. No cars ever arrived and none left.

For the longest time, I tried to convince myself that the owner was most likely an introvert. Someone who’d isolated himself from society and had snuck into his new home unnoticed. Why were there never any lights and why was no one ever seen at the mansion?

For the past week, I spent hours watching the place. I grew a bit obsessed with the whole thing. Guess it says a lot about me, doesn’t it? It was summer break and here I was watching some strange, possibly abandoned mansion.

A couple of days ago I was fed up. I could watch all I wanted, but I’d never find out anything that way. I was on my way to the mansion an hour later.

The entry gate was locked as I’d expected. What was strange though was that there was no bell or speaker system, nothing at all. I couldn’t even find a nameplate.

For a couple of minutes, I walked alongside the wall until I was a bit out of view. I was surprised at how easy it was to climb over the wall.

The moment I landed inside I expected a blaring alarm to start or a pack of watchdogs to come running my way. The only thing I saw instead was how overgrown the place was.

Bushes, small trees, and other plants grew everywhere and had transformed the lawn into thick underbrush. Even the path that led from the entry gate to the mansion was overgrown and barely visible.

As I got closer to the building I saw that the plaster was flaking here and there already. The whole building was plagued by signs of aging. It was a new building, why was it already in a state like this?

The windows held another surprise for me. They were bare of drapes or curtains and when I looked inside, I saw… nothing. There was no furniture, no lamps and not even wallpaper. All I saw were bare walls.

While I walked alongside the mansion a thought popped up in my head. What did it look like inside? Was there even anything at all?

I don’t know what I was expecting when I tried the front door. Definitely not, that it would open up.

What I stepped into was a giant empty hall. There was nothing inside. There were no stairs, no rooms, or even walls dividing up the building.

As I made my way from one end of the building to the other, things stayed the same. There were the foundation walls, there was a roof, but nothing else. I didn’t get what this was. It took them seven years to build… this? It was completely empty!

Well, almost completely, I thought, when I found a massive steel door. It was unlocked as well, but so massive that it took me multiple tries before I’d pulled it open.

I was sitting on the floor, panting and looked at the dark stairway behind it. Guess I found the entrance to the basement.

I sat there for a long minute, debating if I should continue my exploration down there or if I should leave. That stairway and the darkness it led to made me not just a bit anxious. I had no idea what I’d find down there. But, wasn’t this exactly why I’d come here? By now I knew that there was definitely something wrong with the place. The only question was, what.

And so curiosity won over fear.

I pulled out my phone and with its dim light I started my descent.

The stairway led into a vast room or better a hall. As I moved my phone around I noticed that his area was much more refined. Workbenches lined what I assumed to be metal walls.

For a moment I scanned the area in front of me anxiously, but I didn’t see anyone.

As I walked through the underground hall I saw that most of the workbenches were empty. On some I noticed empty plastic containers or glass jars, but not a hint of their former content remained. I went to have a closer look and saw how dirty the walls were. When I reached out to touch them, they felt greasy, almost sticky.

The air down here was heavy with something I couldn’t define. Images of hospitals popped up in my mind and I was reminded of the smell of alcohol and chemicals.

This whole basement area looked as if it had been carefully planned and constructed. There was definitely structure here.

I found many different rooms, both small and big, hallways connecting them all, and sets of stairs that led to even lower levels. All of it was empty. Only the workbenches and a few empty boxes and containers remained.

What the hell was this place? Had they started construction down here and ran out of money? If so, why?

As I continued exploring, I found more and more details. There was a giant old generator at one end of the complex and I noticed that numerous air ducts lined the walls.

The second level of the basement was the same. More empty rooms, more workbenches, more air ducts and more stairs. There was something about this place. It felt wrong, but I didn’t know why.

That was until I found the oven.

It was an absolute monstrosity, the size of an entire room.

My first thought was that it must have been some sort of furnace or that it was used to heat the place. The thing was much too simple though and much too crude. It was constructed of bricks and half a dozen steel hatches lined its front. It was a stark contrast to the rest of this basement complex with its fancy work benches and metal walls.

Ever since I’d entered the room, the thing had reminded me of something and finally, I realized what it was: a cremation oven.

My skin started to crawl as I looked at the hatches.

I don’t know why I did it, but I went forward and opened one of these hatches. I guess I hoped to find answers. I wanted to figure out what this place was and what the people who’d constructed it did down here. Instead, it only brought up more questions.

Behind the hatches was nothing but ash and coal. I reached out with my hand, but then I noticed a fire poker nearby.

It didn’t take long for me to find something. Between the ash and coal there was something else, bone. I stared at it with morbid fascination and then I kept digging.

After a while, I’d find not one but a whole heap of bones. At one point I uncovered a skull and for a moment I stared at its empty eye sockets. When I looked away I saw the inside of the hatch for the first time.

Its surface was covered in innumerable scratches.

The oven, the bones, these scratches, dear god what was this place?

I felt sick and stumbled backward as I was pulled back to reality. I stood there, unable to think and a ‘holy shit’ escaped my mouth.

And then I heard it. As if to answer my words a rattling started inside the oven, behind one of the hatches. Suddenly the room was filled with moans and screams. Then unopened hatches began shaking violently as if someone was banging against them from inside.

I screamed and ran from the room. I was at the stairs only a few seconds later. As I rushed to the upper floor, I could still hear the weeping and wailing from below.

Soon after I’d made it back to the mansion and outside.

I called the cops then and there and told them what I’d found.

—

I learned later that the place must have been some sort of underground laboratory. What exactly they made down there is still unknown. The authorities believe it was drugs or other illegal contraband.

The mansion itself was almost entirely constructed from cheap drywall. That’s why the authorities believe that its construction was nothing but a facade to cover up what was really going on.

Whoever ran this whole thing pretended to build a mansion for almost a decade, while he ran his real operations underground.

They didn’t say much about the bones they found. They were of varying age, but most of them seem to be no older than a year. Which was precisely when construction of the mansion was finished.

When I asked them about the screams, they told me there was no way that they could have been real. There’d been no one down there and in the oven there was nothing but ash, coal, and bone.

Bee Infestation

If there is one thing I hate in the summer, it is insects. I don’t know why, but when it is hot our small town is flooded by all sorts of creepy crawlies.

It could be because of the various lakes nearby or that our town is nestled between thick forests.

Every summer things are bad, but this year’s heatwave made it even worse. Flies and mosquitoes were swarming my house almost since the beginning of July. Every time I’d open a window, you could bet that half a dozen of them made their way inside. Don’t even get me started on the spiders.

Worst of all were the bees. I don’t know where they all came from, but for a month now they are plaguing our town.

During the first week no one was worried about it. Most people guessed that the heat had sped up the breeding process but soon enough their numbers would thin out. Instead, more of them started appearing. It wasn’t long before bee stings became a common occurrence when going outside.

Stranger even was that a second, different type of bee appeared. They had bigger bodies that were a bit too long, and were much more aggressive than regular bees.

At first, people thought they were hornets or wasps, but that wasn’t the case. They were some type of local mutation.

Things got especially dangerous at the local nursing home or kindergarten. The elderly and the little kids were too slow to notice the bees and many of them got stung.

Insect spray became as common as bread and water in our town due to those aggressive bees. Even I got a can.

Two weeks ago, this epidemic claimed its first victim. It was a middle-aged woman, who went out running. When her husband protested she disregarded the warning and said she’d be fine.

Her body was found on the same day. A local farmer found it in a ditch near a hiking trail early in the evening. No one knew what had happened. When the man approached the body, it was teeming with bees. Her face and arms were covered in bee stings and almost swollen beyond recognition.

When my friend Robert went missing I was worried instantly. He was precisely the type who’d ignore the warnings and the danger.

His girlfriend Sue called me Saturday morning. She’d not heard from him since Friday afternoon. This wasn’t like him at all, she said. With all those bees around only God knew what had happened. I calmed her down and told her was most likely busy playing some new game.

Once I hang up, I tried to call Robert. No one answered. I dropped him a message on WhatsApp and saw that he’d not been online since yesterday. That really wasn’t like him, he was the type who was online constantly.

I drove to his place right away. I rang the doorbell a few times but got no answer. His neighbor soon called out to me and told me he’d not seen my friend all day. The last he’d seen him was yesterday.

I felt a lump in my throat. I asked the old man if he could have a look out and call me if he saw my friend come home. He was friendly enough and said he’d give me a call.

Back at home I had no idea what to do. I was about to call the cops, but what should I tell them? Robert had been out drinking with friends all night for all I knew. He’d probably drop me a WhatsApp message soon enough asking what I was so worried about.

Two hours later I got a call from his neighbor. The old man told Robert had come home. His clothes were dirty though and he looked scruffy and exhausted. Robert didn’t even react when the old man called out to him. He went inside without saying a word.

I was so glad to hear he was alright. I tried calling him, but again I couldn’t reach him. My messages stayed unread too.

Shit, what if something had happened and he’d passed out?

When I arrived, it took Robert a little while, but he opened the door. He didn’t say a word and stood there, staring at me.

“Hey man, you alright? I was worried about you.”

He just kept staring at me. For a moment he opened his mouth as if to say something, only to quickly close it again. Finally, he stepped aside to let me in. As I walked past him I noticed how bad he smelled.

“Dude, what the hell did you do last night? You should take a shower or something!”

No reaction. Robert quietly closed the front door and walked straight towards the living room.

Something was off about the way he moved. He seemed to take a short pause before each step as if to think about it. His feet shuffled over the floor and looked as if he dragged his body forward. Why was he so exhausted?

“Dude, are you sure you’re alright?” I asked as I followed him.

Instead of answering he sat down on his couch and kept staring at me.

I was about to call him out on his behavior when I heard the buzzing of bees. I couldn’t say where it was coming from and started scanning the room. I was sick and tired of the damned bees by now. I’d gotten so many bee stings that I killed them on sight. I couldn’t see any though.

I suddenly felt a stinging pain on my arm and noticed that one of the weirder, bigger bees had stung me. There was already another one coming towards me. Where the hell were they coming from?

It sat down on my arm and for a moment it seemed as if it was looking straight into my eyes.

That was it. I got out the can from my backpack and started to spray it. Wouldn’t let it sting me too!

At this moment Robert started to squeak. It was this weird high-pitched sound, and in surprise I turned towards him. He’d gotten up from his seat.

“Dude, what’s-?”

I broke off because he came tumbling towards me and crashed his body into mine with full force.

“What the fuck is going on with you? Calm down, man!”

His answer was more of the angry squeaking. He started to push me to the ground and in that instant I heard the buzzing of the bees again. It was even louder this time, but I still couldn’t see them. Where the hell was it coming from?

“Dude, stop, enough with this,” I said as I pushed him off me. Before I could get up he came at me again. By now I had enough of this and pushed him back hard with both hands.

There was the sickening, wet sound of something breaking. Then Robert fell backward to the ground.

“Oh shit, man, you alright? I didn’t mean to-“

There was the buzzing sound again, this time loud enough to drown out my voice. This time I knew where it was coming from. It was from inside my friend. I watched in horror as a swarm of bees burst from his open mouth and flew straight at me.

I screamed and started to spray them, but there were too many. It was must have been dozens of them. They were all around me. I felt countless bee stings all over my arms and on the back of my neck. In my fury I used the spray almost at random, spraying everywhere.

The air in Robert’s small living room became heavy with insecticides in a matter of minutes. As I fought the bees I saw Robert’s body shake and tremble as if he was suffering a stroke. He was squeaking again, tried to run from the room, but crashed straight against the wall.

I saw more and more of the bees crawl from his collapsed body only to die right on the spot.

I tore myself from the sight and ran outside. I collapsed on the grass, coughing and swaying at the last bees that still stuck to my body.

Soon the police arrived. Robert’s neighbor must have heard our fight and got worried.

I told them what had happened, but they didn’t believe me.

While they interrogated me an ambulance was called. As they treated my many bee stings, one of the police officers approached me. He was clearly disturbed by what he’d seen.

He told me my friend was dead. When I started freaking out, he assured me it wasn’t due to our fight or the insect spray. No, he said, my friend must have been dead for a while.

This made no sense. I told the man again that my friend had come home only an hour or two ago.

The man nodded, but the paramedics had said that Robert’s body was in a state of advanced decay. There was no doubt that he’d been dead for almost a day.

—

When I gave my testimony at the station the next day, I learned more about the whole thing.

The police officer opposite me frowned once I’d finished my story. He said he’d typically stay quiet about these things, but what they’d found during the autopsy was just too weird.

My friend’s head, as well as his body, was covered in holes and tunnels. It looked almost like the honeycombs in a beehive.

It was clear that Robert had died on Friday afternoon near the forest the man said. The strange bees must have then started to convert his body into a hive.

No one could explain how he made his way home though.

It is now a week later, but there is one thing I can’t stop thinking about. What if it was those bees?

What if they dug into his body to control him and move their new hive here, right into the middle of our small town?

I Made a New Friend While Hiding in the Wardrobe

When I was a little boy, I was terribly afraid of monsters. I don’t know anymore where this fear came from. It might have been one of those old tales my grandma told me or it was because of a movie or show on TV.

To this day I have vivid memories of sitting in my wardrobe at night, huddled between stacks of clothes and forgotten toys. I remember peeking outside every once in a while to see if there actually was a monster under my bed. On other nights I’d watch the room’s single window, convinced that it was not just tree branches brushing against the glass.

I spent countless nights in the old wardrobe. Many times I sat in there till morning and only crawled back into bed once the sun started to dawn. At other times, my mom found me still inside, deep asleep.

My parents told me again and again that there were no such things as monsters and nothing bad would happen to me. For an eight-year-old talk like this meant nothing. They are adults. They didn’t understand a thing!

One night I found myself in the wardrobe again. I sat in there, shaking and shivering, telling myself that I was safe and nothing was out there.

All of a sudden I heard a voice I jumped up in fear and was barely able to cover my mouth before I screamed. At the sound of my reaction, the voice started to giggle. It was a female voice, who told me not be such a scaredy-cat.

I soon learned that the voice belonged to a little girl living next door. She told me she was scared too and was hiding out from a monster in her own wardrobe. She’d heard me come in here countless times but never dared to actually say anything.

We ended up talking almost the entire night. I learned that her name was Sandra and that she was about my age. We talked about school, about our friends, pets, hobbies, our dreams, and wishes.

Only when I saw the first ray of sunshine did I tell her I had to go. I crawled back into bed and pretended to be asleep until my mom came into the room to wake me up.

I spent many nights in the wardrobe. Whenever I talked to my new friend, I completely forgot about how scary the night was. Instead, I found myself laughing and giggling, whispering secrets back and forth with her.

While I was hiding from the monsters in my imagination, my parents were plagued by their very own demons. As a little kid, I didn’t notice my mom’s puffy eyes or my dad’s taciturn behavior.

Only when mom told me that she and I would stay at grandma’s for a bit did I realize that something was wrong.

It was a few months later that my parents divorced. After that mom and I moved to a new apartment in a different city.

I never found out who the little girl was and as time passed, I started to forget about her.

It was a week ago that the memories of those nights with her came back to me.

That day was the first time I’d returned to my dad’s apartment. It was not on a happy occasion. During the past years, my dad’s life had taken a turn for the worse. He’d started drinking heavily and one night his body couldn’t take it anymore. He collapsed in the middle of his living room.

Mom and I were his only relatives so we’d inherit what few belongings he still owned. While mom refused to take anything, I said I wanted to at least have a look at the old apartment.

Two days after we’d heard out about his death, I found myself in the middle of the shabby and rundown place the apartment had become.

I remembered it as a happy, tidy place, but it had turned into a dump. Empty bottles were everywhere. The carpet was so stained, it had turned from its original color to an undefined brownish-gray.

There wasn’t much furniture. Only the bare minimum was left, everything else was gone. The only thing of interest I found was a picture of a little boy and girl. I found it in a drawer in the living room. Who were those two, I wondered?

As I trudged through the shambles of my dad’s life, I soon found myself in front of my old room.

I smiled as I opened the door. To my surprise, it was still furnished. Sure my things were gone, but my old bed and bookshelf were still there. And so was the old wardrobe. The room was so much smaller now that I was an adult. I almost laughed at how scared I’d been about monsters under the bed or the branches in front of the window.

At this moment I remembered my nightly talks in the wardrobe.

I couldn’t help but open the old door and get inside. As an adult, there was only barely enough room to sit down in there. I leaned back and peaked out through the crack in the door, same as I’d done as a kid.

I wondered what had happened to that little girl and where she was now.

“I am right here, dummy,” I heard a high voice.

When I jumped this time, I bumped my head against the top of the wardrobe. I cursed in pain.

“How the-” I started but was sure I’d imagined things.

Then I heard her voice again.

“You said it out loud!”

“W-what?”

“Where I was and what I was doing now.”

“No, that’s not it. I mean, you are still living here? Even now?”

“Yep!” came an enthusiastic answer. “What about you? Where have you been? I missed you!”

“You remember me? Even now? After all those years?”

“Of course! How’d I ever forget you? Remember how you told me about the red bike you wanted? Or how much you liked Jenny Meier?”

I started to laugh as she told me more and more things from those talks we had so long ago.

Right at this point though I realized something. It had been almost two decades that I’d last talked to her. Her voice was still the same as back then. Still the same high-pitched childish voice. How was this possible? Shouldn’t she be a young woman by now?

“Why is your voice still the same? Shouldn’t you be in your mid-twenties by now?”

As I said this, she started to sob. When she spoke again, her voice was heavy with sadness.

“I wish I could leave and grow up like you, but it’s not possible for me anymore.”

“What are you-” I’d started, but then something else hit me.

As a kid, I’d always assumed she was living in an apartment next door. Why else would someone talk to me, right? I’d forgotten one thing though, there was nothing on the other side. The wardrobe stood against the outer wall of the building.

When this realization hit me, I ran from the room, with her sobs echoing behind me.

Once I was outside, I shivered in fear. I couldn’t explain what had happened just now. Neither could I explain, what must have happened all those years ago.

It was only now that I realized I was still holding the picture of the little boy and girl in my hand.

Back home I asked mom about it. At first, she said she didn’t want to talk about anything related to dad. When I kept pressuring her though, she told me what she knew.

The picture was of dad and his sister. I looked up. I’d never heard that dad had a sister. Mom shrugged, but then she said in a sad voice that she went missing long ago. Dad had still been a little boy back then. Dad’s childhood hadn’t been a happy one she said.

He had grown up in the same apartment we’d lived in back then. His father, my grandfather, had been a terrible man, a drunk with a violent temper.

First, it had only been insults, but as the years passed, those were replaced by punches.

It was not seldom that he’d beat his wife, my grandma and went for dad and his sister afterward. It had always been his sister though, mom said, who got the brunt of it.

One day though, she was gone. The window of the room was wide open and there was no sign of the child. They’d searched for weeks, but no sign of her was ever found.

When I heard this, I started shivering. I remembered the little girl I’d been talking too. The little girl who I’d thought had lived on the other side of the wall. The little girl who said she could never leave this place and could never grow up anymore. With tears in my eyes, I asked my mom what her name had been.

Before she even said it, I knew what the answer was: Sandra.

Express Delivery Service

When you hear the word Express Delivery, the first thing that comes to your mind is Amazon, right? Or maybe FedEx?

Well, the one I worked for was a bit different.

It was run by one man only, Mikhail.

I got to work with him because I fucked up big time.

It all started when I dropped out of university. After that, I blew two apprenticeships, worked a bit here and there and finally ended up living on welfare.

To be honest, I was never serious about work. I was looking for ways to make big money, easy ways. At first, I tinkered around with various forms of earning money online. Eventually, though it drove me to my city’s shitty casinos. When I say shitty, I mean it. My city was no Vegas, so all you could find were shitty basements with slot machines and dirty poker tables.

Gambling is a fucked up thing, especially if you are desperate. You tell yourself that all it takes is one more game and you only need to win once.

It didn’t take long for my measly welfare money to melt away. A week later the limited credit I took out in my desperation was gone as well. All the while I told myself I needed a bit more time to get the hang of things. Guess it’s what every gambling addict tells himself.

It was at one of the casinos that I got to know Aleksey, a second generation Russian immigrant. There are quite a few of them living in eastern Germany.

Aleksey was a blast. After I’d dropped out of university, I’d lost contact with quite a few of my friends. The rest started avoiding me more and more when they noticed my gambling addiction. It felt great having someone to play poker and slots with.

The best thing about Aleksey though was that he introduced me to Yuri when I mentioned my money troubles. I’d not paid rent in two months and I’d not even be able to pay my monthly credit rate. I was looking for some serious trouble. That’s when Yuri said he’d led me some money. Enough money to pay off my credit and to keep up playing.

Of course being the idiot I was at the time, I didn’t even think about what was going on. Instead, I accepted the money right away. I paid off the bank and after that, I kept gambling with Aleksey. I only had to hit it big once, I told myself. That was the only thing I had on my mind, and that was what brought me a lot of trouble.

Looking back, I can’t believe what an idiot I was. I must have been mad to not having seen what was obviously coming.

Well, fast forward a couple of months. I was at Yuri’s once again, to take out a new loan. It should have been my fourth one. That day though, things were different. Yuri told me he’d not be able to lend me any more money. It was the opposite, he needed his money back.

That day I finally learned that neither Yuri nor Aleksey were my friends. They never had been. I finally understood. They were the type who preyed on idiots like me. People dumb enough to fall for their charade and come to them for money.

All those thoughts went through my head as I sat in Yuri’s backroom. My nose was bloody, two of my fingers were broken, and I had at least half a dozen severe bruises all over my upper body.

They kept me there for almost four hours. They made sure that I knew they weren’t fucking around. I was never so scared in my entire life. At the end of the whole ordeal, Yuri told me he knew of a way to get his money back. He had an acquaintance who needed someone for a job. There was no question if I’d do it or not. Instead, he handed me a note with an address and a time.

“You’ll be there. If not, I’ll find you and kill you.”

I had seen his gun, and I’d seen his eyes as he’d broken my fingers. I knew he’d not even think twice before shooting me.

After this interrogation was over, they kicked me out. I was left to drag my throbbing and trembling body home.

Three days later I found myself in the outskirts of town. The address Yuri had given me was a parking lot near an old industrial area.

I’d not slept all night. I had no idea what would happen. I told myself over and over again that Yuri needed his money back, but could I be sure? What if they led me out there to get rid of me or something? Maybe they wanted to harvest my organs?

As I felt panic overtake me, I told myself to calm down. I’d be alright. Nothing like that would happen to me.

I could have taken a bus there, but I felt like walking. It would calm me down, I thought.

It did not. After every few meters, I couldn’t help but look over my shoulder. Whenever a car drove by, I had to fight the urge to jump into bushes next to the street.

Once I could finally see the empty parking lot, I started to meticulously scan the area. Was there anyone there? Was someone hiding and waiting for me to get closer?

Shit, what the hell was I even doing? Don’t run, I told myself. Don’t you dare run. It was still early. Still, more than half an hour before I was supposed to be here.

In the end, I decided to hide in some bushes next to the parking lot to see what would happen. I didn’t even know what I was waiting for. I had various movie scenarios in my head. In one a group of Russian street thugs arrived. In another, it was a black car with tinted windows.

It was a good ten minutes later that something happened. What I saw didn’t fit any of the scenarios I had in my mind. It was a shitty old delivery truck that arrived at the parking lot. I waited to see if someone would get out, but nothing happened. The truck just stood there, and I was sure, it had nothing to do with me.

After five more minutes, the driver-side window was lowered. I could see the hard face of a middle-aged man inside of the truck.

He was staring straight into my direction. At first, I thought it was a coincidence, but he didn’t look away. When our eyes met, I knew in an instant, that this was the guy.

I cursed and almost jumped up. He must have seen me as soon as he arrived and waited for me to get over there ever since. Fuck!

“Are you Mikha-?”

“Get in,” he cut me off with a thick Russian accent.

Right as I walked over to the side of the truck, the doors unlocked. I got in awkwardly and took the seat next to him. The moment I closed the door, he locked them again.

I sat there in utter silence, not just a bit scared. Out of the corner of my eye, I scanned the man.

His face was rough and he had hard eyes. I couldn’t guess how old he was. He might have been in his early thirties, but could very well have been in his late forties. His hair was dark and short, as was his beard.

He wore a dark muscle shirt and a pair of army pants. His arms seemed to consist of nothing, but muscle and his hands seemed to be twice as big as mine. He must have been an ex-military man or something.

For a few seconds, no one said a word.

“So, what am I-?”

“First rule, you only speak when spoken to.”

When I didn’t react, he jerked over to look me straight in the eyes. I gulped and nodded.

“Good. Second rule, you do everything I fucking tell you too, no questions asked.”

“Third rule, you don’t tell anyone what we are doing. If you do, I’ll kill you.”

Again I nodded, multiple times. His eyes were narrow and hard. After a few more seconds he started the truck and we drove off.

That’s how I started to work with Mikhail.

We drove in silence for the first couple minutes. Then he started to explain what my job consisted of.

Mikhail was a contracted courier, one of the best, he said. “Express Delivery Service,” he said with a big grin on his face.

What this meant was simple. We were transporting goods from one place to another. What we were delivering? It didn’t matter. I didn’t need to know. The pay was good, that was all that was important.

“Well, not like you’ll see any of the money. Goes straight to Yuri anyways.”

—

Our very first stop was at a beverage shop near a small town. Mikhail stopped the car and got out. When I tried to do the same, he turned around.

“You stay,” he instructed me.

With that, he made his way inside. What the hell? Was he getting himself a beer or something?

It was five minutes later that he returned, got in and drove the truck to the back of the shop. Then he told me to get out and opened the end of the truck.

A short while later, some bald eastern European guy walked over towards us from the store. I could tell almost in an instant, that he wasn’t a regular employee.

The guy who followed him was. He was carrying the first of many unmarked wooden boxes and dropped them next to the truck.

“Load them,” Mikhail said to me, “carefully though. You drop one, you pay for all!”

I went and lifted the first one. They were quite heavy. Were we going to smuggle booze? I could live with that, I thought.

While I was loading the truck, Mikhail and the Eastern European guy were talking a bit further away. They both lighted a smoke and seemed to discuss a serious topic. When the guy saw me looking at him, he turned over.

“You are too slow, get a move on for fuck’s sake!” he yelled at me with an accent even thicker than Mikhail’s. Then he started laughing and went back to his talk.

Once I was done loading the boxes, Mikhail showed me how to secure them as best as possible with the tension straps. Then he left me to do that as well. While I tried my hardest to get things done, Mikhail and his client were both shouting as well as laughing at me. It took about half an hour, quite a bit of help and more than half a dozen insults by Mikhail before I was finished.

At this point, Mikhail got into the truck without another word and we drove off. It took another hour until we crossed the border into the Czech Republic.

We passed the old empty border patrol building without any issue. Thank god for open borders, I thought to myself.

After two more hours, we arrived at an old, abandoned industrial area in the middle of nowhere. As soon as we parked the car, two guys made their way towards the truck.

“Those are the brothers, Otik and Juro, old friends of mine,” he said grinning.

As the two of them got closer, I couldn’t help but think something was wrong with them. Otik was the older one of two and the fatter one. He greeted Mikhail while the other one, Juro, stood behind. That guy gave me the creeps. He was tall and scrawny, the complete opposite of his brother. He stood behind Otik without saying a word, eyeing me curiously.

“What the hell are you waiting for!?” Mikhail screamed at me.

For a moment I was dumbfounded, but then my brain started to work again. I opened the back of the truck and began to unload the boxes.

Juro came forward without saying a word and started moving them inside. I didn’t know what it was, but there was definitely something wrong with him. The way he walked, his half-smile and the way he eyed the boxes. It was all wrong. For a moment I even thought that he had an erection.

I looked away and told myself to focus only on unloading the boxes.

While I was busy with that, Mikhail took out an envelope and handed Otik a couple of banknotes. Otik counted them greedily, then smiled and nodded at Mikhail. They exchanged a few more words. After that Mikhail went back to his seat in the truck and waited for me to finish unloading.

Once I was done, we sped off. I had no idea what had happened. Thinking back to ‘the brothers’ as he’d call them, I wasn’t sure I wanted to. Unfortunately, it shouldn’t be the last time I saw them.

I had thought we’d drive back to Germany. Instead, Mikhail drove the truck further into the Czech Republic.

That’s how I spent my first couple of weeks working for Mikhail. Sitting in his car, loading and unloading boxes and most of all, keeping my mouth shut. We were out on the streets for at least eighteen hours per day. We didn’t stop anywhere to spend the night. Instead, we slept right in the truck. When it came to food, we either ate shitty fast food or the diner type.

I didn’t get to go home for weeks at a time. It was rare that I ever got to take a break. If I was able to go home, it was never for more than a day. I usually spent all of it sleeping. After weeks in a truck, a good night in a bed is heaven.drop

As the weeks went by, Mikhail got a bit more talkative. I learned that I wasn’t there to only load and unload goods.

“If it’s only me in the truck, the police might get suspicious, but with a pussy like you around, no one thinks of trouble,” he said laughing his ass off.

Another one of my tasks was to be a scapegoat. Something bad happened? The cops caught us red-handed? It was me who was supposed to take the blame.

I asked Mikhail only once how long I was supposed to work with him, but I didn’t get a clear answer.

“Until your debt is paid,” was all he said.

—

Work was almost always the same. Sure, at times, I was loading boxes. At others, I’d heave huge crates into the truck. One thing didn’t changed though, I never found out what it was we were transporting.

Considering the money Mikhail was paid by his clients, it was pretty clear we weren’t transporting common goods. I was sure it was drugs or some other sort of contraband. Hell, it might even be weapons.

For a month and a half that’s how things went. There were a few times when I’d almost dropped a box, but thankfully it never happened.

I guess it was due to the clients that Mikhail kept. They were usually armed and looked like serious trouble. Knowing that you’d get a bullet between the eyes if you dropped their goods, puts you in a state of hyper focus.

The mistake I made though was much worse.

Mikhail had stopped the truck at a random resting area at a Polish Autobahn. It was around two in the morning and Mikhail said he’d get cigarettes and something to eat.

Once he was inside the diner, I left the truck as well. You see, for the past half an hour I’d heard one of the crates we’d loaded move around in the back. Mikhail either hadn’t heard it or chose to ignore it. I thought about telling him, but there was his rule of not speaking to him. I’d gotten a bloody nose twice by now, for approaching him without his permission. So I kept quiet.

What I was worried about though, was that some of the goods inside the crate might get damaged. I was the one who’d loaded them and only God knew what would happen to me if something broke.

Being the scared idiot I was, I went to the back of the truck right then and there. I had to see if the crates were okay and if the tension straps were still fastened.

Busying myself in the back with my flashlight I checked here and there. After only a few moments I saw that some of the tension straps had gotten lose. This had caused one of the crates to move to the side of the truck. There seemed to be no real problem. I also knew that our destination was only about an hour or two away. Still, I didn’t want to take any risks. For all I knew, I might already get into trouble if the crates weren’t adequately secured.

So I jumped in, pushed the crate back into its original position and loosened the straps a bit. I was about to fasten them again when I heard someone call out to me in Polish.

I turned around to yell at whoever it was to go away. I broke up when I saw that it was two police officers. I could feel the color drain from my face and myself getting sweaty.

I cursed at myself for showing my fear so obviously. They must have seen me rummaging in the back of the truck and decided to check out what was going on.

Did they notice my reaction though? Oh god, please tell me they didn’t see it.

“Eh… everything is fine, just checking if the crates are secured properly,” I stammered in my best English.

They both didn’t say a thing for a few moments while eying me. Finally one of them said something in what I presumed was Polish. I didn’t understand a word.

“Only English or German,” I said awkwardly.

“What are you loading?” one of them asked.

I stood there and couldn’t think. What the hell should I tell them? I had no clue what was inside the crates. Hell, I didn’t even know what they were usually used to transport. Where they used to carry booze? Construction materials? Tools? I had no freaking clue. My brain was frozen. I could see the officers starting to get impatient.

“Only alcohol,” I blurted out.

One of them raised his eyebrows and grinned before he translated it for his colleague. They exchanged a few more words.

Oh god, please go away, I thought while I tried to appear as relaxed as possible.

“No,” the same officer said.

He pushed me aside with his arm, while his colleague jumped into the back of the truck. He took out a flashlight and started to check out the crates.

I stood there, but couldn’t do anything. I was frozen solid, with one of the officers standing right next to me.

Fuck, how did this happen? How the hell did this happen? Shit, I am a fucking idiot, I cursed at myself in my head.

What if they-

I was cut off as I saw Mikhail appear. He suddenly stepped out from behind the truck and stood right before the officer and me.

“What’s the problem here, officers?” he asked with a smile on his face while smoking a cigarette.

“Who are you?” the officer next to me asked in surprise. I saw him put a hand on his hip instinctively. All the while the other officer was still checking out the inside of the truck.

“I am the driver,” Mikhail said almost emotionless.

“What are you shipping,” the officer asked once more, this time with more urgency in his voice.

At that moment Mikhail said something in Polish.

In an instant, the cop in the back stopped checking the crates and turned around. I could see how surprised he was. Then he left the truck and asked something else. The only thing I understood was a Russian name.

Then Mikhail nodded and went up to the driver’s seat. He gave the cops a full view of his hands. Then he got out an envelope filled with money. Finally, he handed it to the officers.

They counted it, nodded and walked off. I didn’t get to think about what had taken place because as soon as we were alone, Mikhail hit me square in the face.

In tumbled to the ground as my whole head erupted in pain. On the ground, I could feel the blood rush from my nose. Mikhail had hit me before, but never as hard as this.

He shouted something in Russian at me and when I didn’t react, he repeated it so I’d understand.

“Close the back and get in, you bloody idiot!”

Once I’d sat down in the passenger seat, Mikhail threw a dirty rag at me.

“Clean yourself up for fuck’s sake,” he yelled at me.

While I did so, he started the truck and we drove off.

“This all comes from your pay! I’ll tell you once and only once, you don’t touch anything when we are out in the open.”

“Okay,” I said in a low voice and nodded.

He stared at me in anger and I winced, thinking he might hit me again. Then he spat out a few curses in Russian before he spoke again.

“Can’t take that route anymore. They are going to wait for us now and bleed us dry. Fuck! What the hell were you even doing!?”

I could see how the knuckles on his hands grew white as he held onto the steering wheel. I sat there, not sure what to say. Should I tell him the cops walked over and demanded I’d open the back? Would they do this? In the end, I decided to tell him the truth.

“I heard a noise and I thought one of the crates had gotten lose. I didn’t want anything to get damaged, so I went to check and refasten it.”

For a moment Mikhail watched me, trying to make sure if I’d told the truth. Finally, he sighed.

“Okay, you are not a total idiot. You had the right idea, but what you did was still stupid. If anything like this happens again, you tell me before you act. Don’t ever just touch things. If the police find out what’s inside, we are in trouble. Serious trouble.”

Well duh, I thought, if the cops find out we are trafficking drugs or shit, then we are in trouble. Not that I didn’t know that already.

At least that’s what I thought we were transporting. I should find out what it really was five weeks later.

At the time we traveled through the back-lands of the Czech Republic. We’d loaded some crates and were on our way to bring them back to the brothers.

For two hours we’d followed nothing but back-roads. We’d driven through so many poor, half-empty villages, I’d stopped counting. Out of nowhere, a police car appeared behind us.

Mikhail stopped the truck right away. When the guy appeared at the window, I knew in an instant that he was trouble. His expression was serious, almost angry. I could tell that the moment he’d seen Mikhail he was suspicious. He pointed the flashlight directly at his face and told him something in Czech. When Mikhail got out of the car, the cop turned to me and yelled at me as well. I didn’t understand a word but got out as well.

Once we were out, the cop started to ask Mikhail a few questions, to which he gave short answers. After that, the officer instructed him to get to the back of the truck. I did not understood a word, but it was clear that he wanted to know what we were transporting. Mikhail gave him one of our standard answers: clast, the Czech word for alcohol.

The police officer grinned, pointed at the back of the truck and instructed Mikhail to open it. When Mikhail didn’t move, the cop pulled out his gun. The next thing he made us do was to get out one of the crates. Both Mikhail and I heaved it from the truck to the ground.

I noticed how the cop’s eyes focused on Mikhail. It was clear to him that if anyone would cause him trouble, it wasn’t me.

Mikhail told me to open the crate. While the cop watched, I got a crowbar from the front of the car. Then I started to remove the large nails that held the crate shut.

Once the front popped open, two black sacks fell out onto the dirt.

The cops face turned bleak and his mouth became a hard line. I could see that he now pointed his gun straight at Mikhail, snapping a command at him. Mikhail turned to me.

“Open it,” was all he said.

I blinked and looked at him, but didn’t understand. He wasn’t suggesting I’d… but right then he pointed at the sacks. Oh fuck no, I thought. From where I stood it was obvious what was inside. The form, the outlines, everything. Fuck!

I went forward and ripped one of them open. I had only opened it for a bit and was greeted by a face staring straight at me. Even though I’d know what was inside, I still stumbled back a step in surprise.

The cop was still looking and pointing his gun at Mikhail as he walked to the bag. When he saw the corpses inside, he took out his radio.

Right at that moment, Mikhail yelled something in Czech. I had no idea what he was saying, but the cop turned and pointed the gun at me. His finger was on the trigger and I saw the shock and anger on his face.

In one short moment, my mind became blank. This was it. I was convinced I was dead. Then the cops face exploded.

Blood, bone and brain matter rained down on me.

At first I was surprised that I was still alive. Then came the confusion. When I finally realized what had happened, I screamed.

Mikhail was with me a moment later, putting his hand over his mouth.

“Stop screaming idiot, you are still alive.”

Once my legs started working again, he helped me up. Then he brought me a rag and helped me clean off the worst. After that, he stuffed the corpse of the officer in the crate as well. I was still completely numb as we loaded the crate again. Mikhail told me to get in the truck, while he fastened the crate as quickly as possible. Then we drove off.

It was only about ten minutes later that Mikhail drove the car towards a forest and stopped.

“Why are we-?”

“Shut up,” Mikhail said.

My eyes grew wide. Was he going to shoot me? Was it because I saw what was in the crate, or that he shot the police officer?

When I saw him lean behind his seat to search for something I started rummaging around with the seat belt. Before I’d even opened it in my state of mind, I was hit. Not by a bullet, but by a bag.

“Change into these, can’t have you running around all bloody and shit.”

I looked at him confused before I realized what must be in the bag. I stepped out of the car, undressed and put on the clothes he’d thrown at me. They smelled quite a bit and were way too big for me. I didn’t complain, I was more than happy to get out of the blood and brain covered ones I’d been wearing. We dumped the rest of the clothes in a bag and put them behind my seat.

“Otik and Juro will take care of it, the cop, the clothes, everything. Cost a bit more, but whatever. Common procedure. Not the first time something like this has happened.”

It took more than an hour before my brain started working again. I finally realized that I really was a scapegoat. I’d been Mikhail’s distraction. He’d waited for the right moment to shout something that would make the officer turn to me. I don’t know what it was he’d said, but probably something like ‘Yes, shoot him!’

If Mikhail had been a moment late, I’d be dead as well. I’d be stashed into the same crate as the cop. He probably did so with others who worked with him before. Common procedure he’d said. Watching him now, from the corner of my eye, I could tell he didn’t give a shit. He did not care one bit if I’d been shot back then.

I had thought I was an alibi or someone to take the blame. That was only half the reason for me to be there. If necessary, I was there to take a bullet or if things got bad, to die for Mikhail.

There was nothing I could do about it though. I couldn’t even complain about it. I could only sit there, in this shitty truck, in the middle of nowhere. All the while I had to fight the urge to jump the asshole sitting next to me. Not that it would do me any good.

I was surprised when he spoke up.

“It’s a safe route. There should’ve been no one there. Could be that someone ratted me out. Wasn’t careful enough, my fault.”

Now he hadn’t apologized and I was damn sure that I’d never hear this guy use the word sorry. Still, that he’d said anything at all…

Shit, to be honest, I’d thought he’d hit me again for not tackling the police officer earlier.

After that, he said nothing until we reached the brothers.

—

Mikhail was right, the brother’s really had no problem taking care of things. They took the crates we brought and took care of the police officer as well.

Hell, Otik even joked about our run-in with the police and what happened.

By now it was clear to me what their job was. I could see the chimneys of the old furnaces in the back. It was probably quite easy for them to get rid of almost anything. And out here, no one would give a damn.

For a moment, as I heaved one of the crates out, I remember Juro’s weird smiles and his odd behavior. I thought back to what I thought I’d seen that one day. As a result, I felt nothing but disgust for the guy.

Once I was done with the last crate, I found him standing right next to me.

“Too bad, by now I thought I’d find you in one of them too, oh what I’d do then…”

I almost jumped back as I saw his half-empty gaze and smile right next to my face.

“Fucking shit,” I screamed at him. He reacted by laughing out loud, but I could see, that he was grinning at me for the next few minutes we were there.

“He’s one sick fuck,” Mikhail said when we were back in the truck, “knows what he is doing though.”

Once we were back on the street, Mikhail told me it was time for a trip to Bratislava. An old acquaintance of his needed a prompt delivery. The pay was worth the long journey he said. I said nothing. I knew damn well that I’d not earn a dime of what we’d make anyways.

This was not the worst though. Knowing what we were transporting scared me more than anything. Before I’d thought it was drugs or contraband, but now that I know what it was, I couldn’t help but be afraid. I didn’t want to know who Mikhail’s clients really were.

What if he’d tell them I knew what was in the crates? Would they shoot me then and there, right after I finished loading? Would they stuff me in another crate and that be it? What about Mikhail? Would he get rid of me at one point? For two whole weeks, I almost freaked out whenever we stopped, thinking this could be it.

In time though, those feelings went away. I got used to the work and what we were transporting as well. I guess I grew desensitized to it all.

After a while, I even picked up some Czech and Polish. I at least wanted to understand what the cops and some of Mikhail’s clients were yelling at me.

By that time, work felt almost normal, not much different from any other job.

It shouldn’t stay that way.

I had worked with Mikhail for half a year when it happened. We were on our way back from Belarus to Poland, to one of our end destinations. Turns out Mikhail didn’t work with only the brothers. He knew a couple of other trusty people who were also specialized in corpse removal.

Mikhail drove the truck and I was reading through a Polish lesson when I heard a knock from the back of the truck.

At first, I thought I imagined things, but then a heavy thud followed. I looked at Mikhail, who as fuming. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever seen him this angry before, including the night of my first major mistake.

“What is-?”

“Nothing,” he answered between clenched teeth.

We drove on for a while longer until Mikhail brought the truck to a halt a bit off the road.

“Go check,” he commanded me.

Once I was in the back of the truck, I could hear it clearly. Someone was rummaging and moving in one of the crates. I could hear a muffled voice from inside.

I went back to Mikhail.

“Someone is alive back there,” I pressed out.

I could see Mikhail’s expression darken. He cursed in Russian and spat out of the car. For a long minute, he sat there, not doing anything. Then he got out his gun.

Oh shit, he is going to shot the guy, I thought. Then I noticed that he wasn’t getting up from his seat nor did he open the door. He was looking at me holding the gun up to me.

“Wait, what are you… no, I can’t, I mean…”

Mikhail’s face turned hard. “You do it.”

I stared at the gun, not sure what to do.

“Take it!” he screamed.

I took the gun and stumbled to the back of the truck. I stood there, staring at the crate and listened.

Thud. Thud. Thud. Some pleading in Russian. Another Thud.

I can’t do it, I can’t do it, I can’t fucking do it! That’s a person in there. I can’t freaking shoot someone. I was starting to freak out.

I don’t know how long I was standing there when I heard Mikhail curse.

“What takes so freaking long?” he asked in an angry voice. Then I heard him get out of the truck and saw him walk over to me.

“I can’t freaking do it,” I said to him, almost pleading with him.

“You have to,” Mikhail said with a thick Russian accent. His face was completely empty of any emotion.

“N-no, it’s impossible, I can’t kill-“

“Then you die.”

He said it matter-of-factly. I stood there and felt beads of sweat forming on my forehead and on my hands. My heart started to beat faster and faster. How did it come to this? What the hell was I supposed to do? I couldn’t shot someone, could I? I wasn’t going to be a murderer. Fuck this shit. Fuck it all. Fuck Mikhail, fuck Yuri and fuck this guy in there!

“Dyes-yat. Dyev-vat. Vo-syem,” he started all of a sudden.

What the hell was he doing?”

“Syem. Shest,” he continued.

He was counting I realized. The memories of Russian class in sixth grade came back to me. It was the numbers from ten down to one he was reciting!

“Chye-tir-ye. Tree.”

Oh god, what the fuck do I do?

And then, almost entirely out of it, not even sure what I was doing, I pointed the gun at Mikhail. He started to grin and stopped counting.

“You aren’t going to do it,” he said, “don’t kid yourself, someone like you can’t.”

“Shut up!” I yelled at him.

“What are you going to do? You are going to shot me? What are you going to do afterward? Steal my money and run?”

I didn’t answer. I had no fucking idea about any of that. Mikhail knew and started laughing. Then he took one step towards me.

“Stop, or I’ll fucking shot!”

“You won’t. You are a pussy.”

I said nothing. Instead, I pointed the gun straight at his head and took another step back. I had to keep my distance from him.

“I am not going to shot that guy in there! I am not going to do it! I am not a freaking murderer!”

Mikhail started to laugh again.

“And you are going to prove it how? By shooting me?”

This time I grinned weakly.

“If that’s what it takes…”

I had wanted it to sound hard and intimidating, but my voice almost cracked as I said it.

Mikhail laughed again and a moment later, he came at me. At that moment I closed my eyes and pressed the trigger.

It clicked. Nothing else. I opened my eyes in surprise and the only thing I saw was Mikhail’s fist hitting me once more.

I woke up in the passenger seat of the truck. The moment I opened my eyes I was flooded by a wave of familiar pain. Jesus Christ, that guy hits like a truck!

Then I realized where I was and what had happened.

“What the fuck?!” I screamed and started to pull on the seat belt to get rid of it.

“Stop,” Mikhail said in a low voice. He pushed me back into the seat and slowed down the truck.

“What the hell is going on? What was this whole-?”

“It was a test,” Mikhail said in a normal voice.

“Test?! What the fuck kind of test… are you-“

“To see what sort of person you are.”

I had no idea what the hell he was going on about. Mikhail Sighed, before leaning back.

“There is enough bad in this world, enough people like me. This here, all of this, it is all bad. I wanted to see what you’d do. If you’d shoot a man without any other reason than me telling you to do it.”

“That’s why you handed me the gun and all?”

He nodded. My eyes grew wide.

“What if I’d shot you? What if the gun wouldn’t have-?”

“No bullets. You really are an idiot.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. We both did. I was such a goddamn idiot.

“So what if I’d decided to do it.”

“Then there’d be one more bag in that crate,” he answered grinning.

“What happened to-?”

I broke up when I saw Mikhail’s face. It was hard like so often before. This time though, as he looked at the sky ahead, I saw something else: Regret.

After a few more moments we drove off.

I worked with Mikhail for three more months. Not much changed during that time. We didn’t talk a lot and I didn’t find out more about him. I guess though, that’s the way he is.

It was one day, by sheer surprise, that he stopped the truck on a Germany street.

“Get out of the car?”

I did as he told me and he soon followed. What was going on now?

Once we were out Mikhail started to talk.

Yuri never had any intention of letting me go. I’d work for Mikhail as long as was necessary, then he’d get rid of me. I wouldn’t have been the first one to meet such an end.

“Don’t worry, I am not going to shoot you. If I wanted to, I’d done it much earlier.”

Then he handed me something. It was an envelope and a note. As I checked the envelope, I saw that it was filled with money.

“What are-?”

“Shut up! Don’t make me take it back, okay?”

“You don’t belong in this world. You are not a bad person. In this envelope is enough to last you for a bit. On the note is the name of an old friend. He’ll give you work, good and honest work.”

I couldn’t believe what he was saying.

“Mikhail, what are you-?” I couldn’t finish. Instead, I went forward to hug him, but he raised one of his massive hands.

In a moment his expression grew serious again.

“I know how you ended up in this situation. Gambling. Loans. Easy Money, right?”

I felt so utterly embarrassed. I didn’t know what to say, but then Mikhail grabbed me by the cuff of my neck.

“If you ever do that shit again, I come and shoot you myself, understood?”

I gasped in surprise.

“You understand!?” he asked once more.

“Y-yes, I won’t ever do it again.”

“Good.”

He looked at me once more.

“Now fuck off, before I regret what I’ve just done.”

With that, he got back in his truck and drove off. For long minutes I stood there, sure he’d be back.

Once I finally realized he wouldn’t, I checked the address he’d given me on my phone. Then I started walking.

Good and honest work, it didn’t sound too bad.

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My Friend and I Visited an Abandoned Industrial Complex

Urban exploring has its very own appeal.

My best friend Thomas and I have been doing it for a couple of years now. We don’t do it all that often. It is a thing we do once every few weeks, to provide our mundane lives with a little bit of thrill.

There is something about old, abandoned places. It is this eerie, creepy atmosphere. The idea that what once was filled with life is now stripped bare and empty. It is unsettling and somehow you feel like you don’t belong and that you are in a wrong place.

I often can’t help to wonder about the history of the places we visit. Had people once celebrated Christmas in this old, ruined residential building? Had this rubble been witness to such happiness?

When were those empty school hallways last filled with the laughter of kids and the talk of teachers? There is always something special about those places.

And then there is what happened last night.

Thomas and I met up like we usually do. We were lucky enough to both have today off. That’s the reason why we decided to visit an old industrial site in the next town over.

It used to be one of those booming industrial towns of the Democratic German Republic. The reunion brought not only a new currency. It also brought new technologies and methods of production. It made many of the machines and production facilities in Eastern Germany obsolete. Needless to say, many companies went bankrupt during the time.

In the bigger cities, newer complexes or different buildings replaced those areas. In small towns, on the other hand, they were abandoned.

Getting rid of them would cost too much money. So they are often left to rot until someone is interested in the property. It is rarely the case.

The complex we were going to now had most likely not seen any visitors in at least two decades.

I can’t say what we were hoping to find. Guess we wanted to see how unsettling old factory halls and warehouses could be.

As we arrived, there was not even a hint of a name anymore. What once could have been a billboard was now nothing but a metal frame. We could see some Russian lettering on one of the buildings, but half of the letters were missing. What remained made no sense.

There were some streetlights at the edge of the complex. The rest was hidden in darkness.

Getting in proved easy. A high fence surrounded the entire complex but scaling it wasn’t hard. We moved away from the main street and the streetlights and made our way inside.

The complex was quite a bit larger then I’d assumed. Back in the day, this whole area must have been teeming with dozens of people if not hundreds.

It was a quiet night. The echo of our footsteps was incredibly loud as we walked over the empty concrete floor. I couldn’t help but look around if anyone or anything noticed them.

We first made our way to a group of buildings that turned out to be the old production facilities. I had expected it, yet I was still disappointed to find them stripped bare. We turned our flashlights on as we stepped inside, but there was nothing of value left. The only things we saw were endless lines of pipes on the walls and a few rusty metal contraptions.

Our footsteps seemed to be even louder in these empty, dark halls. The beam of our flashlights brought the pipes on the walls to life. It transformed them into winding shadows. The whole area, with its rust-covered floors, reminded me of the old Silent Hill games. A few times I thought I heard a metal clang behind us. Every time though, I convinced myself it was nothing but my imagination.

I was relieved as we stepped outside again.

After checking out a few of the smaller buildings, we made our way to the old office building.

It was an unimpressive, two-storied block of concrete.

As we entered the empty hall, we guessed that we weren’t the first visitors here. The door had been unhinged and the remaining furniture of the entry hall had been demolished.

Taking a closer look revealed a thick layer of dust on the rubble and proved that it must have happened a long time ago. As we made our way through the building, we found barely anything else. A few old shipping documents caught our interest, but they weren’t readable anymore.

Whoever had been here before had also broken many of the windows. As we walked through the hallways, I heard the occasional whistle of the wind behind us.

In the end, we didn’t spend a lot of time searching through the office building. The inside was as unimpressive as the exterior. Anything interesting, we decided, must have been taken already.

At last, we made our way to the old warehouse. The big steel gate at the end was closed and locked by some heavy iron chains.

It was pure dumb luck when Thomas tried one of the doors on the side and it sprang open.

The inside was like the rest of the complex, almost entirely empty.

The only sound was once again the echo of our footsteps. To our left and right, unending rows of old, rusty metal shelves lined the walls. The darkness made them look like ancient, metal skeletons.

At the end of the warehouse, we found another small office area. It was nothing but a few chairs and tables. It might have been used for packaging the goods or preparing them for shipping.

By now, my phone showed me that it was almost midnight. We’d seen pretty much every part of the complex. To be honest, I was a bit disappointed. I thought we’d at least find something exciting or morbid here.

I didn’t feel like making my way back home already. Instead, I convinced Thomas to move two of the old chairs into the center area of the warehouse and chill there for a bit.

“We might as well stay for a bit longer, man.”

“Sure, not like we get many chances like that anymore, with the baby around and all that.” Thomas agreed.

By now our eyes had adjusted to the darkness around us, so we turned the flashlights off. The moonlight came in through the giant upper story windows of the warehouse. It provided more than enough light.

As usual, I’d brought a few drinks. It was a sort of ritual for us. We had said goodbye to the partying lifestyle years ago, but whenever we get the chance to hang out, we have a few drinks.

I knew Thomas also brought some weed. Ever since his girlfriend got pregnant, she hated it. Guess it’s because of the baby. So he only smoked whenever the two of us were out.

For half an hour we sat there in the dark on old, hard chairs and exchanged urban legends. Every once in a while a sound made us look up, but we’d seen enough signs of small animals and rodents in the warehouse.

While Thomas finished the tale off a particularly deranged serial killer, I got myself another beer. I opened it, took a sip, and leaned back.

“What the fuck…?” Thomas whispered next to me.

His voice had changed. It sounded agitated, almost afraid. I was about to take a sip of my beer when he reached out for my arm. He almost spilled my beer.

“What the hell man? You tripping or something?”

Without answering, or saying anything, he pointed at one of the upper windows of the warehouse. I could see that his arm was shaking.

At first, I had no idea what he was pointing at. I wanted to make a snarky comment like ‘yes dude, it’s a window.’ Then I saw it too.

There was a figure, no just a face outside, behind the window. I hadn’t noticed it at first, because it was only its side profile. It was much too big though and filled up almost all of the enormous window. It seemed as if some sort of giant was passing by outside.

Then the face came to a halt. I saw how its pupil moved to the corner of its eye, focusing on the inside of the warehouse. Then the whole, giant face turned into our direction, staring inside.

“The fuck is this man?” I asked with a voice that I couldn’t keep from shaking.

As I looked up at the window, I felt how the eyes of this apparition focused right on me. They grew wide and the face’s expression became angry. The mouth turned from a smile to a hard line.

With an angry shriek, the face vanished. Only moments later we heard the grinding of the massive warehouse gate on the concrete. Soon the heavy iron chains that kept it closed started rattling.

For a second we looked at the gate in fear, but as it rattled again, we both jumped up and ran.

Once outside, we both saw something huge and dark move at the back of the warehouse. In an instant, we ran to the edge of the complex and climbed back over the fence.

Only once we were a bit further away from the complex, did we turn back around.

I cringed back a step as I saw the dark, empty faces staring at us from every building of the complex. I could not see their bodies, or who they were. All I could see where glowing eyes and open mouths.

And then, I saw the giant head once more. It was right above the warehouse. It stared straight at me again, with its wide eyes and its same angry expression.

When both of us saw, that there was no neck or body it belonged to, the two of us ran. We ran all the way to the local train station. The whole way I could feel the angry stare of this giant, ghastly head in my back.

I don’t know what happened last night or what I saw. I don’t try to think about it, but I can’t help it anymore.

The whole day I convinced myself it was the weed Thomas had brought. Maybe it had just caused us to hallucinate, right?

I can’t do it anymore. Whatever happened last night, can’t explain the giant, lurking shadow outside my window.

What Lies Beyond the Cornfields

They call childhood the happiest time of your life.

This was true for me too, at least until a specific day. After that nightmares, guilt and therapy replaced my happiness.

I grew up in a small rural community. It used to be one of the many small farming communities of the area and consisted of no more than a dozen houses.

As you can imagine there weren’t many kids there either. The few of us though were close. Altogether there was four of us, all between the ages of nine and twelve.

My best friend Jan and I were the oldest, both twelve years of age. Eric was a year younger than us and Sven, the youngest, was nine.

We referred to us by silly names like ‘The Glorious Four’ or other similar ones. They were all taken from or based on Saturday morning cartoons.

We spent most of our free time on either the local soccer field or the playground. Every once in a while we also went exploring the area and the small forests around the village.

In summer and early autumn that changed. During that time it drove us to the local cornfields. The tall and thickly planted stalks of corn were an entirely different world. It was always an adventure to venture into the fields. At times we searched for secrets inside. At others, we’d build small hideouts, to the displeasure of the local farmers.

To clear things up beforehand: Cornfields in Germany are generally not as vast as the American counterpart. The ones around our village measured only a few kilometers in length. Sure, to us kids they seemed huge, but in reality, they were pretty small.

Our chances of getting lost were almost non-existent. We could walk into any random direction and would end up at the edge of the field after no more than an hour.

—

During the summer holiday’s my friends and I would meet up right after lunch. We left our bikes at Jan’s home and set out for the fields.

On our adventures, we’d find all sorts of things: shiny stones, rusty tools, old newspapers and once in a while, even a coin or an old piece of clothing.

In typical kid’s manner, we’d make up all sorts of stories about these things. Rusty tools were left behind by farmers who ran from scary monsters, coins had been dropped by bank robbers and newspapers belonged to people who were hiding from the police.

In our imagination, we uncovered criminal conspiracies and proved the existence of monsters lurking in the fields.

One day during the second week of the year’s summer vacation we were out in the fields again. That day my friend Jan found something interesting.

It was something shiny on the ground that proved to be a small, heart-shaped necklace. It was laying in the middle of a rough path that cut through the corn.

Now small natural trails through the fields were not uncommon, but this was different. Here, the stalks were either pressed to the ground or ripped apart.

My thoughts turned to treasure in an instant. If there was a necklace here, then a group of thieves might have created this path!

As we followed it along, we noticed that it wasn’t a straight line. Instead, it was a wild zig-zag that tore through the field. It added to the impression of a group of people rushing for their hideout.

I was a bit surprised when the path led us to the edge of the cornfield and not to a hideout in the middle of the field.

What was even stranger though, was where we’d ended up. We’d followed the path in roughly the same direction all this time. This should have made us end up near the neighboring village. Instead, we found ourselves in front of a small vale surrounded by endless meadows. At its end, the vale led to a huge, dark forest.

We should be near the neighboring village, shouldn’t we? How had we ended up here?

I had explored every notch and cranny around the village and never seen this place.

After a while though, I accepted things as they were. Maybe this area was usually cut off by cornfields? Perhaps this vale was in the center of the cornfield? Or the field was larger than it had been during the other years? Who knows, I said to myself, we were here for treasure!

As I started to look around for a bit, I noticed something. The path we’d followed through the field continued down into the vale. Even from where I was I could see something else laying not too far away from us.

It was only a couple meters ahead and turned out to be a small leather pouch. It was empty though. There were no signs of jewelry, coins or diamonds.

Finding this pouch proved to me though, that we had to be on the right track. As I followed the path with my eyes, I saw that it led straight to the forest below.

“There’s no doubt,” I blurted out, “that the hiding place of the treasure must be down there!”

I nodded to myself and set out in the direction of the forest.

Jan and Eric followed me right away, but Sven stayed back.

“That forest looks scary. I wanna go home,” he said with a weak voice.

“That’s because you’re a scaredy cat, Sven!”

I was never the sensitive type, especially with my friends around. Soon I started to laugh and moments later Jan joined in. When both of us were teasing him, he finally kept quiet and agreed to come along. Peer pressure at its finest…

As we made our way through the vale, I noticed how unclaimed the place was. The grass was growing thick and reached almost up to my knees. Small trees and bushes here and there made it seem as if the forest was hard at work extending itself into the vale.

As we walked on, I felt cold all of a sudden. A fresh breeze had come up and only as I looked did I noticed how dark it had gotten. Thick, grey clouds that hid the sun filled the sky. Hadn’t it been a perfectly clear sky when we’d walked through the cornfields?

At the edge of the forest, I first thought the path stopped there. My hope was already fading, but Eric pointed at a few broken off branches nearby. Scanning the area revealed some unearthed trees and many scattered leaves.

I pointed in the direction and we continued on. The forest ahead of us started out normal enough, but with each step, it grew darker. As we made our way deeper and deeper inside, I started to become a bit more anxious.

The first thing I noticed was the light. By now it seemed as if we were walking in a sort of twilight. The world had changed from bright green and brown colors to an almost colorless grey unison.

Looking back, I am not sure why I continued deeper into the forest. I guess it was a mixture of curiosity and not wanting to admit how anxious I was in front of my friends.

I heard Sven talking to Eric in a low voice. It sounded like he was out of it and barely held back his tears.

This was enough, I said to myself. I stopped and looked around and then at my friends. I only noticed now how quiet things were around us. I’d lived near forests my whole life and knew that you were supposed to hear birds and the rustling of trees. Here in this grey twilight, there was nothing.

Everything started to feel wrong and for the first time, I felt alone. I knew my friends were there, right next to me, but it didn’t give me the comfort it usually did.

When Eric poked me in the back, I jerked around to yell at him, but I saw that he was pointing at something.

With a strange feeling of premonition, I looked at what he was pointing at. It was a sort of construction nestled between a few trees. It was no more than thirty meters away, but so easy to miss.

For a moment I scanned the area around us in a surge of panic. Was there someone else here? This day had started out as just another little adventure. Pretending to hunt criminals and searching for treasure was one thing. Now though, in this forest, the danger started to feel very real.

I had enough of this whole thing. We should go back, I thought. I was about to suggest it when Jan took the first step in the direction of the weird construction.

“Let’s check it out,” he whispered with a grin on his face.

“What are you…?” I started but then nodded. I didn’t want to admit that I was afraid. So, against my own feelings that things were wrong, I followed him. Eric tagged along after a while, but Sven stayed where he was. I couldn’t blame him.

As we got closer, I saw that it was a sort of hut. It was constructed from nothing but sticks and branches of various size. The roof was covered by leaves, grass, and dirt. Only now did I see how big this whole thing was.

The whole area in front of it was devoid of grass. It looked as if even the forest vegetation was retreating from the place. My skin started to crawl as I followed Jan. This was wrong a voice in my head said over and over again.

This was not a natural thing or some animal den. No, this must be someone’s hiding place. I could even see a fire pit in front of the hut.

What if there was someone out here? What if they were dangerous? What if they were inside right now, waiting for us to get closer?

I stopped, but Jan walked on as if nothing was wrong. I cursed in my mind. Why did that idiot have to go closer?!

I stepped forward, to tell him once and for all that we should all get out of here now. At that moment I noticed something out of the corner of my eye. I looked over at the hut and my heart skipped a beat. There was a large open entrance and there was something right inside of it. My first thought was that it really was a person lurking in there.

I already imagined someone getting up and running over towards me. In fear, I took a step back and bumped into Jan. I almost ran away, but then I saw that nothing over there was moving.

“What are you doing?” he asked in annoyance. My eyes grew wide and I raised my hand to motion for him to be quiet.

“What is-” but he broke up when I pointed at the inside of the hut. The two of us both watched. Then we went closer one step at a time. Our eyes were focused on whatever was inside.

After a few steps, I realized that it was way too small to be a person. After some more steps, we saw that it was a tiny heap, covered by a dirty, old blanket.

Jan went forward to the small heap and I reluctantly followed him. Behind us, I heard Eric continue on in the direction of the fire pit.

“G-Guys?” I heard Eric call to us from outside in a shaken voice.

I turned to look and I saw him standing near the fire pit, his mouth was wide agape, looking down at something. I took a step outside, when Jan, still holding onto the blanket, stumbled into me and fell to the ground. His face was white as a sheet and when he started screaming my eyes moved to what he’d revealed.

My heart dropped. My breathing stopped. The world came to a halt. I opened my mouth, but couldn’t find words. After a few more moments my voice returned and I started to scream as well.

Looking back at me were the empty eyes of a little girl. I stood there, in the middle of this dark hut, unable to move or look away.

She was younger than us, dirty and covered in bruises. Her clothes were torn. There was no movement. There wouldn’t be. Somehow, even at my young age, I knew that she was not alive anymore.

Her body was twisted, almost folded together to fit under the blanket. I don’t know how long I was looking at it. Jan was next to me, pulling at me, but I was dazed.

After another second I was able to turn to him and look what he was pointing at now. It was another heap in a corner near the entrance. This one wasn’t covered. It consisted of only one thing: shoes.

There in the corner was an innumerable amount of tiny shoes. It must be hundreds of them, I thought, hundreds of children’s shoes.

As I stumbled outside, I saw Eric still standing next to the fire pit.

He wasn’t moving at all, just staring at something. Only as I came over did I see the real horror of this pit.

In its center, I saw a variety of bones. I saw at least two human skulls in-between the mess and knew what kind of bones they must be.

I touched Eric’s arm, but he wasn’t reacting. I noticed only now that he wasn’t looking down at the bones in the fire pit. He was frozen in place, shaking and look at something between the trees ahead.

At that moment I saw it too. Something was moving over there. Oh shit, I thought, someone must have heard mine and Jan’s scream. It must be the place’s owner. I imagined it was some crazed, haggard serial killer. Or considering the pit, a cannibal.

The reality though proved to be much, much worse. I noticed it right away, the size didn’t match. Whatever was over there was much too tall for a person. Was it some sort of animal?

Then I caught a glance of something. I saw long grey arms, an assortment of legs and what I could only think of as huge bulking bodies.

I thought it was multiple creatures. There were too many arms and legs, but then I realized it was all an entangled, twisted whole. It made its way through the trees a good hundred or so meters ahead of us as if searching for something.

From where I stood I could only watch the horrific nightmare creature in a dazed state. This was not real. It couldn’t be. In wonder and shock, I stood there and watched. For a moment I wondered when I’d wake up from this dream.

Then I saw that the creature was holding something. I told myself it was a small animal, that it was a rabbit or a deer. I said it to myself over and over again. It didn’t help.

I saw the tiny arms, the tiny legs. I saw the empty blue eyes. Finally, I saw the clothes and the little shoes at the end of the legs. What the creature was holding in one of its many arms, was the limp body of a child.

“Oh god no, oh god no,” I heard Eric mutter next to me.

Right at that moment Jan came over to us and saw the thing too.

“What the hell’s that!?” he screamed up.

With that the thing noticed us. It let out a weird, distorted scream of its own, that made my ears ring before it came crashing towards us.

Branches splintered against the grey monstrosity’s bulking body. I saw how it used two of its arms to push tree trunks aside as if they were nothing. Its many legs were moving in a hypnotic, disjointed way.

I was still in shock. For a few moments, I could only watch as the surreal beast came closer and closer with each second.

As I remembered the shoes, the bones in the fire pit and finally the dead girl, I realized this would be me too. I saw the rest of my friends. Jan was tumbling backward, Sven was standing ten meters behind, crying, but turned to run. Only Eric and I were still standing here. Finally, I snapped out of it and pulled him after me.

As we started running the thing screamed once more. With each passing second, I knew it was coming closer. I could feel the ground shaking with each step of its many legs. I turned around, sure to see the thing reach out for me, but no, it had stopped in front of the hut. It must be the things hideout.

It dropped its prey and then it started to move its head around. It looked as if it was… sniffing the air? Was it blind? I had no idea and kept running.

What the hell was that thing? Where were we? My legs ached and my lungs burned. For a short moment, I slowed down to catch my breath. As if to answer this decision the creature screamed once again.

“Oh please no. Just stay there!” I prayed to myself.

I didn’t have that much luck. The noise behind me was enough to know that it was coming after us again. It sounded as if a truck, or better a tank, was crushing through the forest behind us. I heard the splintering of both trees and branches. It was as if nothing could stop the thing.

Finally, I saw the edge of the forest ahead. Then I reached it and then I rushed outside into the small vale. My friends were all ahead of me, even Sven.

I didn’t get to focus on them. Only seconds after me, I heard something huge explode out of the forest as well. Branches and twigs came raining down all around me.

I looked over my shoulder once more. I saw the sickly, grey and leathery skin of the centauric monstrosity only a dozen or so meters behind me.

This time I was able to make out the deformed head. There were a gorging maw and a weird bony hole above it. Where the thing’s eyes should have been, was only grown together scar tissue.

The things four arms were all reaching out for me. I remember that its hands had too many fingers. I don’t know how many there were. They were almost as thin as twigs but much longer as if they had too many joints.

Right at this moment, I tripped over a hidden stone in the tall grass. For a few more steps I went on before I crashed straight to the ground.

Jan, who must have seen me fall to the ground, turned towards me. Our eyes met, grew wide and he screamed at me:

“Get up! Get up! Get up!”

Right then the creature behind me turned around. It focused its attention on Jan. I saw how it rushed over to him on its many legs. Then, only moments later, the long, thin fingers reached out for him.

The thing let out a triumphant scream as it caught my friend’s squirming body in one of its hands. He screamed up in pain, fear, and confusion. I saw tears streaming from his eyes. He struggled against the grip and then reached out his arms towards me.

“Tom help me! Tom! Tom! Help me!”

He screamed my name over and over and over again, as the fingers closed around him.

I watched, shook my head, and the only thing on my mind was not me.

Oh dear god, the thing has not gotten me! I can’t let it get me! I have to get away!

I jumped back to my feet and started running again, all the while Jan was still screaming after me.

I didn’t look back. I couldn’t. I only ran on. I didn’t stop.

I fought my way up at the end of the vale towards the edge of the cornfields. Finally, in a last ditch of effort, I made it and fell to the ground. My whole body was trembling with pain.

Eric was there, Sven arrived soon after. They were both crying.

For long seconds I lay there shivering. Any moment from now, I thought, the creature would appear to get us too. Then I realized it must have given up.

That’s when I remembered Jan. I turned to look down towards the vale and the forest. It had happened right next to me, but I didn’t want to accept it as a reality. I hoped, no prayed, for my friend Jan to come running up here as well. Instead, I saw only the greyish monstrosity, as it made its way back.

It was almost at the forest now. It wasn’t running anymore. Its many legs moved in a steady trot.

Even from this distance, I could see that it was holding something in one of his overlong hands. It was something small that was now limp.

This was Jan, I realized. Jan who had called out for me to get up. I was unable to take my eyes away from the sight as tears streamed down my face.

It would have been me. I was the one who had tripped and fallen right in front of that thing. If Jan hadn’t called out, it would have dragged me back into this ghastly forest.

He had saved me and I hadn’t done anything. Right as the thing had grabbed him, I ran away and ignored him.

No, I’d abandoned him.

—

Once we were able to move again, we started on our way back through the cornfield. None of us said a thing. Sven was still crying, even now. Eric was as lethargic as I.

No one said a word. No one mentioned that as soon as we made it out of the vale, the sky was clear once again and the sun was shining down at us.

In our confused state, it took us hours to find our way back. Each sound we heard made us turn around in fear of the creature. When we finally made it home, it was already late in the evening.

At first, no one in the village believed our story. When Jan stayed missing though, the adults couldn’t ignore it anymore.

They talked about criminals and kidnappers hiding in the forest. When we told our story, they all disregard it. They attributed the monster and everything else to our imagination and fear.

A police search was started. They combed the whole area, searched through the forests and the meadows. Finally, they even checked the cornfields.

They found nothing. There was no hint of the tiny vale or the thick, dark forest behind it. It seemed as if this entire area, as well as the monster, had never existed.

It was the same for Jan. They never found a hint of him. No body. No remains. Nothing. He too had all but vanished.

I grew older and finally moved to leave all this behind. There was one thing I couldn’t though, my memories. For years I went to therapy, but it didn’t help.

Many nights I wake up, covered in sweat. In some, I see the monster and its gaping maw again. In others, I hear my friend screaming out for me and see his pleading eyes again.

There are also those nights, on which I lay in bed, wide awake. Wishing my friend would have not called out for me.

Seven Fingers

I always loved hiking.

Even as a child, I was torn towards the wilderness. While other girls wanted cute clothes and pretty dolls, all I wanted was to spend my days outside.

I guess it is due to the influence of my uncle, John. After my parents died, I came to live with him.

He was an ex-military man, a tough guy and knew nothing about children. In the end, John decided to teach me about the things he knew about most: the outdoors.

I grew to love that stuff. I learned about hiking, camping, climbing, how to make a fire and many other, similar things. I became quite the tomboy, as you can imagine.

Time passed and by now I am in my thirties. John has been dead for over a decade.

I’d love to tell you that I became some sort of free spirit who travels the world. It had been my dream ever since I was little, but unfortunately, my life took a different direction.

After high school and John’s death, I couldn’t afford to go to college. I started to work in an office to earn some money. Somehow this temporary position turned into a perpetual one. For more than ten years now I’ve been sorting through documents, typing out emails and, yes, making coffee.

Every once in a while though, when I’m on vacation, I tend to go out on a hiking trip. That’s what I did a few weeks ago too. I’d been looking forward to it for months.

I planned to visit a local mountain range, the forests around it and spend a couple of days hiking. Since it was summer by now, I decided to spend the nights camping in the wilderness.

The first day was terrific. It felt so good to finally leave the dusty office behind and breath fresh mountain air again. On this day I had decided to follow the common hiking tracks. I wanted to visit the most popular tourist spots in the area.

I met other people here and there, but since it wasn’t the holiday season yet, I was almost always alone on my long walks. In the evening, I put up camp in one of the many specifically marked bivouacs of the area.

For the second day, I had decided to venture into the forest. While following the hiking trails was recommended, I wanted to get the feeling of my childhood back.

For hours I made my way through shady forests and clearings. Every once in a while I crossed a hiking trail, but most of the day I stayed blissfully ignorant of civilization.

As it got later and day turned to night, I had not reached the camping area I’d set out for. I had planned out a rough route, but it seemed I’d ventured out a bit too far.

In the end, I decided to set up camp in a small clearing in the middle of the forest.

I put up my tent, set up a small, safe cooking fire and prepared a quick meal for myself. As the sun set I thought back to Uncle John and the times we’d spent together. I missed the old man.

Time passed and I soon found myself in darkness. It was time to sleep, I told myself and went into the tent.

I wasn’t worried about animal attacks. The only thing out here were deer, foxes, and badgers. There could be wild boars as well, but they were scarce and didn’t approach campsites. I crawled into my sleeping bag knowing I was safe. It didn’t take long for me to drift off.

I woke up in the middle of the night. There were noises outside. For a while I lay there, completely quiet, listening. I waited for the sounds to stop or for them to grow more distant. They didn’t. Instead, it sounded as if something was scavenging through my campsite. I heard more rustling, followed by the clang of the cooking pot.

Was this really a fox or a badger? It was not uncommon for them to sneak up to a campsite, but they rarely made enough noise to wake you up. At this point, I started to grow a bit anxious.

There was always the off-chance that you ran into some weirdo or a homeless person. I had heard my share of camping horror stories.

I carefully opened my sleeping bag. Then I went to the tent’s entrance. I moved the zipper down one centimeter at a time to make no noise.

I put my head outside and scanned the area. The campsite was in chaos. The forest floor was turned upside down. My chair was thrown aside. Even the remains of the camping fire were scattered and I couldn’t see the metal cooking pot. At first, there was no sign of an intruder, but then I noticed a large, dark silhouette at the end of the camping site. It was way too big to be a fox or a badger.

“Don’t tell me this is really a person.” I thought.

I was quick to put on some clothes and my shoes. Then I picked up Uncle John’s old hunting knife and pocketed it.

“It’s better to be prepared Lina,” he’d always said to me.

After that, I pulled out a flashlight and went back to the opening of the tent.

For a second I only watched the silhouette, but then I turned on the flashlight and pointed it directly at it.

“Okay, who are you and what do you…” I broke up when I saw the true nature of the intruder.

It was a skinny hairless, white thing, a twisted humanoid creature. It was holding the metal cooking pot in arms that seemed to be too long. The moment I’d turned on the flashlight, the creature threw the pot aside. Its head jerked right into my direction.

For a second the creature only focused on me and I could see the twisted face. Its eyes were of a deep red color. Where the nose would have been was only a knotty heap of bone and skin. The worst was its mouth. It was half open. I could see an assortment of huge, misshapen teeth, between disgusting fleshly lips. Then the thing let out a short, high-pitched scream.

I saw the creatures mouth twist into a smile, and before I could react in any way, the thing rushed towards me on all fours.

My head was spinning. I was in a panic. What the hell was that thing? Something like that couldn’t be real. My flight or fight instinct chose flight, due to the surrealistic nature of the situation.

I almost ripped open the entrance of the tent, jumped outside and ran into the forest. I had to get away from that creature.

I had no idea where I was going. The only thing my brain screamed at me was to get away from the horror I had seen.

As I ran, I was still holding the flashlight. For a moment I turned around to illuminate the forest behind me and there the creature was. It was so fast, I thought. It wasn’t even running, but it seemed to be jumping from tree to tree as it came closer and closer.

Right at that moment, my world turned upside down. I tumbled over the root of a tree and crashed hard to the ground. For a moment all the air was pressed out of my lungs. I lay there, panting and as I pushed myself back up, I felt a hand close around my ankle.

When I turned around, I saw the creature’s disgusting whitish face looking down at me. A mocking smile was showing on its face. In pure panic and rage, I started kicking at the creature. A moment later my hard boot connected with its face.

I heard it scream up in pain and felt the grip on my leg loosen. Moments later I was up and running again.

I ran past trees and fought myself through the thick underbrush. Then I saw something different in front of me.

In the moonlit night, I noticed it was stone. At first, I thought I’d reached one of the mountain cliffs, but it was much too smooth for that. It was a wall, no, a building I finally realized. It must be an old ruin in the forest.

I stumbled forward and saw an entrance right in front of me. In mere moments I went inside and hid in one of the corners of the entry room. As quick as I could I turned off the flashlight I was still holding.

I sat there in the darkness, breathless and shaking, trying to calm down.

“It is okay Lina, it won’t find you here, it is going to be okay.”

I did repeat this mantra over and over again in my mind, forcing myself to breathe slowly.

Minute after minute passed. There was no sound other than my now quiet breathing.

Once I had finally calmed down enough to get up, I heard noises from outside again. Footsteps, right in front of the building. They were hard, heavy and rustled through the leaves on the forest ground.

“Oh please god no,” I said out loud and quickly put a hand over my mouth.

That thing must be back. It was right outside. I am trapped! Right at that moment, I noticed a doorway to my left that led to another room.

As quietly as I could, I started to sneak towards the doorway and the second room.

Quietly, I told myself. Don’t make a noise. I could hear the creature. It must be shuffling around outside in front of the building.

I finally stepped through the doorway. Oh god please let there be another way out, please let there be another way…

Right at that moment, I stepped on something. It felt soft and strange and as I looked down, I saw a sort of small creature below my feet. In the dark, I could make out a pair of empty eyes staring up at me.

I screamed up and in a new surge of panic, I kicked the thing away. My mind conjured up nightmarish visions of twisted, white offspring. For a second I feared that I’d found my way straight into the creature’s nest.

I pulled out the flashlight again and turned it on, only to see that it was an old, half-rotten stuffed animal. I looked around the room and in utter perplexity, I saw that there was at least a dozen of them. All old and dirty, scattered across the floor. There were other things too, old furniture and rotten cloth.

Right then I realized what I’d done. Lina, you freaking idiot, that creature must have heard your scream.

And as if to answer the thought, I heard footsteps that soon came closer. Why is there no window, I cursed as I frantically moved the flashlight over the walls. Then I stopped as I saw something new.

Pictures.

It was pictures of women, brunet women. They covered almost an entire wall.

There were dozens of them. Small pictures, big pictures, some in black and white, others in color.

“What the fuck is this!? What is this place?” I asked myself and wondered if the thing had come after me due to my brunet hair.

Right at that moment, I heard a noise. As I turned, I already knew what I’d see: the twisted, white abomination standing in the doorway.

I saw how the disgusting mouth changed into a smile as the red eyes focused on me. It had found me.

I stumbled back but bumped into the wall behind me. The creature giggled, then opened its mouth as if to say something.

“No, get away from me,” I pressed out from between my lips.

The thing took the first step towards me. This time I heard something.

“…ther,” it said.

I looked around again, but there was no way out. I pushed myself along the wall, trying to somehow get away. All the while the mocking smile and the red eyes followed me along.

“…other,” it said again.

What the hell was going on? I saw how it spread out his arms, trying to block my only way of escape, the doorway. Finally, as it said it once more, I understood what it was saying:

“Another.”

Oh god. I realized it. Another. I looked at all the pictures on the wall. Another woman. Another victim. I had found my way into the lair of this twisted, women hunting abomination. And now it had another one, me.

It said it twice more, before it stumbled towards me, throwing itself at me with outspread arms.

“No! Get the fuck away from me!” I screamed out loud.

Right before the thing was on top of me, I let go of the flashlight and ripped out the hunting knife.

There was the sickening sound of tearing flesh, followed by the wailing of the creature. Then my hands were flooded with a warm, sticky liquid.

In my frantic panic, I retracted the knife, before I stabbed the creature twice more.

The things wailing grew louder and louder before it fell back and crashed to the floor, flailing its arms around.

For a few more seconds I stood there, shaking, then the bloody knife fell from my hands and I ran.

I ran until my lungs were burning up in my chest. I can’t say how long it took me to finally calm down.

After that, it must have taken me another hour before I stumbled upon a hiking track.

When it finally dawned, I heard noises ahead. I hastened my pace and soon ran into a group of hikers. When they saw me they gasped and started to back away. They only stopped when I called out to them and pleaded for help.

I don’t remember what I said. I must have been rambling on and on.

In the end, they called the police. Two officers, named Siegert and Schneider arrived soon after.

I told them my story, but I could see the expression on their faces. They didn’t believe me.

Finally, though, the two of them agreed to follow me to my camping site. After that, we searched for the ruin, where I’d stabbed the creature. It took no more than ten minutes to find it.

Keeping a safe distance, I followed them back inside the old house. The first room was completely empty. Then we went into the second one.

“What the hell…” Siegert whispered as he saw the room.

As I looked down at the creature now, it seemed much more human. Its body, while somewhat disfigured and white as a sheet, was almost completely normal. It wasn’t the giant, hulking monstrosity I had thought it was, but only barely above average height.

As the officers finally turned it around, I could see the face once more. It was still as disfigured as I’d remembered it.

I looked at the rest of the creature. Something was wrong with one of his hands I noticed. I started to count the fingers: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven.

“Seven,” I said out loud.

Officer Schneider turned towards me. He was an older man, almost twice my age.

“Oh, the fingers,” I started and pointed at the hand, “there’s seven of them on this hand.”

As I said it he walked over towards me and looked down as well.

“Could it be?” he whispered.

Then he turned to me again.

“Miss Brandt, I might have heard more about this… creature. Always thought it was nothing but an urban legend though.”

“What are you talking about?”

The man looked at the creature once more, sighed and then told me the story he’d heard.

Back in the day, he started, a family lived out here in this very house.

They were an older couple, quite reclusive. The two of them, even though they were at an advanced age, had two children a boy and a girl. As the rumors go, the two siblings developed a deep bond and once they got older, this bond turned into love.

The boy was soon sent off to live with relatives while the girl, Maria, stayed with her parents.

As time went on, talk about the reclusive family started to spread. One story said that the harsh treatment of the son was because Maria had gotten pregnant.

It was never proven of course, but an old and confused midwife added to the story. She insisted that she once helped deliver a particularly disfigured, albino child. It was born from a forbidden love and cursed by God, she said.

As the years passed Maria’s parents grew old and died, leaving the young woman to live in the forest by herself.

By that time she had started to work at a workshop in a village nearby. Many of her co-workers urged her to move into the village as well, but she refused.

Many said it was due to her lifestyle, but others believed the actual reason was the rumored disfigured child.

None of these rumors could ever be proven. Only a few years after her parents, Maria died too, during an accident at the workshop.

She was buried next to her parents.

In the end, the small, old house in the forest was abandoned. Maria’s brother had all but vanished and she had no other relatives.

In the years to come, many of the rumors persisted, especially those surrounding Maria. Kids playing in the forest talked about a wailing coming from the abandoned building. Hikers and campers spoke about white shades or ghosts that they had seen in the middle of the night.

Many people in the area thought it was Maria’s ghost haunting her old home in the forest.

Seeing those seven fingers, Schneider said, reminded him of all those old stories. There had been one more thing the old midwife had said. The disfigured, albino child had been born with seven fingers on one of his hands.

As I stood there, I realized what he was saying. That creature that had come after me must have been Maria’s child. After his mother’s death two decades ago, that twisted child must have continued to live out here.

In the end, the police ruled that I had acted in self-defense. After two decades of living out here, Maria’s child must have been in a dangerous, almost feral state. They also believed that the child must have been severely mentally handicapped. He must have thought of me as someone stumbling into his territory. For that reason he’d attacked me.

At least that is what everyone thought. It was yesterday that I finally found out the truth about all this.

After the whole thing was over, I’d reached out to Schneider and asked him, if he could find a picture of Maria. I can’t say why, but I guess I wanted to see a picture of the poor woman whose story I’d heard that day.

Yesterday a letter arrived. Inside was a short note by Schneider and a picture of a young woman. She wasn’t exactly pretty, but she had this happy, friendly smile and long brunet hair.

Brunet hair, I thought, like all the women in those pictures and like me, too. At that moment it dawned on me. When I’d seen them, I had thought those pictures were his victims, but the police had assured me it wasn’t the case.

After his mother had vanished, the child must have gathered all of them. In his mind, after all those years, those brunet women must have looked to him like his mother.

That’s what he’d said that night. He hadn’t said other or another like I’d thought. What he had said was mother.

After two long, lonely decades, a brunet woman had stumbled into his home. He must have thought his mother had finally returned home to him.

That’s why he’d been smiling and giggling. That was the reason for the outspread arms.

That poor unlucky soul. In his mind his mother had finally returned home and then she’d brutally stabbed him to death.