Sadness, Depression and Dreams of Cubes

Did you ever wish to not feel a thing, to just be numb? I did.

My name’s Katie, I’m in my late twenties and that’s all you need to know about the miserable existence you’d call my life.

Until a few months ago, I was happy. Now, I don’t even know what that feeling is anymore.

First, an unexpected illness struck my father, the only family I’d left. He withered away and died within a month. Soon after, my boyfriend of many years broke up with me.

I think those two events broke something inside of me.

From then on my life comprised nothing more than getting up, eating, going to work, and then back to sleep. It had become nothing but an endless, empty cycle that plunged me into depression.

It wasn’t long before I stopped going to work. I loathed myself to waste it like that, but I knew dad’s life insurance would last for a while.

I spent most of my days at home, alone, and only left the apartment to get food, food that didn’t taste like anything.

Life wasn’t life anymore. It had become nothing but depression, thoughts of suicide, and the medication I took to keep me from going through with it. At least for the time being.

That’s all there was for me. Well, almost all. There was another detail, an insignificant one, I thought at the time.

It was a certain reoccurring dream.

I’d had it every night, ever since I’d fallen into this state of depression. It wasn’t a nightmare. No, it was a strange dream, or better, a dream sequence.

At times I dreamt about my father, at others about my boyfriend. Yet, whatever I dreamt about, each dream ended in the same way.

I’d be standing in front of a figure shrouded in darkness. The only thing I could make out of it was a ghastly white arm and hand. It would hold out an object and always ask the same question:

“What am I holding?”

Not once had I been able to answer. I’d shake my head and say I didn’t know. The figure would say one more thing. It too was always the same:

“It’s a cube, my dear.”

After that, I’d wake up. This dream puzzled me. What was even stranger, I could never picture the object as anything but a large wooden cube. Yet, in the dream itself, I never knew what it was. It was the strangest thing, this dream.

I’d asked myself countless times where the dream came from and what it could mean, but I never found an answer.

About a week ago, as I was sitting at my desk, my thoughts went back to the dream once again.

Soon I’d opened countless websites about reoccurring dreams on the internet. There seemed to be an endless number of them. For hours I read about dreams of being followed, teeth falling out and other, weirder things.

Some people mentioned dreams centered on certain objects, but it was something of importance or meaning to the person. Their first little bike, a favorite toy, or an old photograph for example.

The dream I was having, though, seemed to be different. I owned no wooden cubes or boxes resembling one. Even after looking through old photo albums and the few belongings I’d left of my parents, there was nothing like it.

So, I sat there for long hours, wondering how this dream and the cube in it were connected to me. I cursed. This was driving me mad!

“Just let it go, Katie. Ignore it. It’s probably another side-effect of the damned medication,” I told myself, rubbing my temples.

Even though what was I to do? Wake up every single morning, telling myself not to think about this strange, reoccurring dream? No, by now it had already become a lasting misery that seemed to crawl back into my memory repeatedly.

For a few more minutes I sat there, pondering about it before I got an idea. It was ridiculous, and I laughed to myself, but maybe it would do… something. At least, I thought, it was a way of spending the time.

I took out a sheet of paper and a pencil and went from my desk to the kitchen table. For a few minutes, I just stared at the empty sheet in front of me.

Then I started.

The beginning was a square. Next, I added depth. With this, the rough outlines of the cube were done. After that, I added all the symbols carved into its surfaces. As I drew them they reminded me of ancient nations and long lost civilizations.

It was all so easy, so clear. It was as if a door in my mind had been yanked open and like a blazing light, memories of the dream flooded my mind.

There was no spot, no detail on the cube I didn’t know. My hands were flying over the paper, adding more and more intricate details to it.

Strange symbols that reminded me of ancient hieroglyphs covered one side entirely. Crawling, twisting snakes covered another one.

I don’t know where all those memories came from. I just kept drawing.

Once I was done, the table in front of me was covered in sheets. They showed the various sides of the cube or close-ups of specific details.

Looking at all those drawings, I couldn’t help but shiver. Where had all this come from? How had I remembered all this?

As I sat there, I realized that the sun had long since set. I must’ve been drawing for hours, almost as if I’d been in a trance.

Only then did I realize how exhausted I was, and not even half an hour later I’d dozed off in bed.

My dreams that night were nothing but a foggy mess. Except for the end, of course. Once more I stood in front of the same figure and like so many times it held out the object to me.

This time, though, the answer to its question was clear to me.

“It’s a cube,” I answered.

“Indeed it is, my dear. And now that you’ve realized it, it is yours.”

The fingers of the hand motioned for me to come closer.

“What’s it for,” I asked as I took the first step.

The figure giggled before giving me an answer.

“You will find out when the time comes.”

The hand holding the cube had been right in front of me, only an arm’s length away, yet it didn’t matter how many steps I took, I couldn’t seem to reach it.

“When’s the time?”

The voice of the figure became stern and foreboding as if revealing an old secret or some hidden knowledge.

“When you find it in the real world,” it answered, “at a place that knows neither day nor night.”

And finally, at this moment, my hands reached the cube. Yet, the moment my fingers brushed against its wooden surface, I awoke.

When I got out of bed, I felt dizzy and for a moment the world was spinning around me. It lasted only for a moment though, then euphoria washed over me. The dream, it had changed!

Then I remembered the words of the figure.

‘Find it in the real world.’

What the hell was up with that?

“All right, Katie, calm down, it’s nothing but a stupid dream. A silly thing conjured up by your subconscious.”

As I made myself some coffee though, the words of the figure came back to me again and again.

“Was there… more to this?”

I laughed and shook my head.

“Don’t be stupid, it’s a dream, nothing more.”

‘A place that knows neither day nor night.’

What was that even supposed to be? Stupid brain, giving me riddles like that.

I tried to go on with my day, but it was futile. The figure’s words seemed to reverberate inside my head and I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

‘Find it in the real world, at a place that knows neither day nor night.’

What sort of place was that even supposed to be?

Eventually, I decided it might be a good idea to leave my cramped little apartment for a while to get some fresh air. Who knows, maybe being stuck inside all day was the reason for coming up with stupid things like that.

As I stepped outside, I was surprised by how cold it had gotten.

“Guess I missed summer,” I thought to myself before I hurried back inside and put on some warmer clothes.

As I started down the street near my apartment building I saw how the colored leaves on the trees were shaken by a gentle autumn breeze. When I stared at them, I couldn’t help but compare myself to them. Small and shriveled up, soon to be abandoned.

I forced myself to look away and fought back the tears that welled up. I felt anger rising, self-loathing anger.

“Stop being so damn weak,” I cursed at myself and stepped on.

I’d only wanted to take a brief walk, but I somehow walked on without so much as glancing at my surroundings. Minutes became hours and soon I found myself in the western outskirts of the city.

It had once been a flourishing part of town, but in the past decades, it had gone downhill.

I wondered how I’d ended up so far out. It was almost as if my subconscious had led me here.

Then that the memory of the dream pushed back into my mind. It was like when I’d drawn the cube. Maybe going on a walk had once again opened up a door inside my mind?

Old and abandoned buildings lined the street, only a few of which seemed in use still. As my steps led me on, the sun set and darkness descended upon the city. It gave this whole, empty area an eerie atmosphere.

By now I felt almost like a spectator, watching my body move on its own.

Eventually, I stopped in front of a small alleyway and without knowing why, I took the first step inside.

The alley was a place of shades. Night hadn’t reached it yet and never would because of the dim glow of an old street light. The daylight wouldn’t either. The two buildings to either side towered above me. They were leaning so close to one another, they made it impossible for sunlight to reach the bottom of the alley. It had to be a place that was constantly in a state of gloomy twilight.

Daylight never touched it, I thought, yet the darkness of the night never engulfed it. I smiled a bit. It fit the description to the point.

As I continued, I felt the hairs on my body stand up. It felt as if I’d entered a forbidden place.

For a moment I stopped, thought about going back before curiosity drove me on. I’d been told to come to this place, I thought as the gloomy twilight surrounded me.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, I noticed a dim light to my right and when I turned I stood in front of a small store. I stared at it in confusion, wondering where it had come from. Had it been there the entire time?

I couldn’t help but shiver. This was all so weird.

“What kind of place did you end up at, Katie?” I asked myself.

A strange feeling washed over me and for a moment I felt the sensation of being watched. Yet, when I turned around, I saw nothing but the same gloomy twilight. It was almost as if the world I’d come from had been swallowed up it and nothing remained. Nothing but myself and the small store I stood in front of.

I was torn from my thoughts when I heard a sound. A scream escaped my mouth when the door to the small store was pushed open.

I took a step back and waited for someone to leave or to see who’d opened it, but there was no one else around.

For long seconds I stood there, staring at the cracked door ahead of me. Finally, apprehension was overtaken by curiosity and I approached the door. The room I entered was old and musty, filled with nothing but broken furniture. A single candle holder illuminated the room and in its light, I could make out one more thing. It was another door at the opposite end of the store.

The moment I saw it, I recognized the symbol carved into it. It was the very same cube I’d seen in my dreams. There was no mistaking it. This was the place I was sent to find.

But what exactly was this place? Was it some sort of dreamscape? But I was awake, wasn’t I? So how could something like this exist?

The sheer abnormality of the situation became clear to me and with it came confusion, even fear. How had I even found my way to a place like this? I thought back to the strange feeling I’d had during my walk. Had I come here on my own volition, or had I been… lured here?

Quick steps led me back to the entrance door. None of this here made any sense. None of this should even be real.

“Go home Katie, get out of here and go home,” I told myself.

As I reached the door, I heard a voice from behind me.

“Didn’t you come here to get it?”

I froze when I heard the voice and stood there, shivering at the sheer absurdity of it all. It was a voice I knew so well because I’d heard it in every single one of my dreams in the past months.

This was insane. None of this could be real. I must’ve snapped, gone insane because the alternative…

“If you want it, then followed me. There’s no need to be afraid, my dear.”

The tone of the voice was reassuring, friendly even. Finally, I took a deep breath and turned around, afraid of who or what I’d see.

There was nothing though, the figure was nowhere to be seen, and the room was as empty as before. The door with the cube on it, however, stood wide open.

I gasped, but there was only darkness behind it. It was a darkness so thick, it seemed to stream from the room and to swallow up the candle holder’s dim light.

“Run,” every part of my body screamed at me.

“This is wrong! This place is completely and absolutely wrong,” a voice reverberated inside my head as the first step lead me closer to the door.

Closer and closer I inched forward and with each additional step, my insides screamed at me to go back and leave. Yet, I shut them all off, pushed them away as I continued.

A heavy smell wafted through the air. It was like nothing I’d smelled before. It wasn’t repulsive, neither sweet nor sour, it was different. The smell gave you a feeling of another realm or place.

After a short while of staring into the darkness, my eyes had adjusted and I could make out a figure sitting in the center of the room.

The only thing I could see clearly was a ghastly white arm, a hand, and the cube resting on it.

A strange feeling took a hold of me, drew me forward to grab it. My hands were sweaty, my heart rate went up, all in anticipation as I stared at the object.

“How is any of this even possible?” I forced myself to ask.

The figure giggled. “It is possible because of you.”

My mouth opened again. I wanted to ask more questions, but my eyes wandered to the cube.

“What is that cube?”

“It is your cube, my dear.”

Once more I was pulled forward by this strange desire. I wanted to own the cube. It was mine and being so close to it I could barely fight the urge to jump forward and to rip it from the hand it rested on.

“All right, calm down, Katie,” I told myself and took a deep breath.

Then I walked over and reached out for it. My fingers brushed over the edges, testing and probing it, to make sure it was real. Then, in one swift motion, I swept it from the hand it rested on.

My hands closed around it and I clung to it like to a long lost treasure.

“What’s it for?” I asked as I studied the many carvings on it, the euphoria in my voice surprising even me.

Again the figure giggled and for the blink of an eye, I saw something else in the darkness, something strange and twisted.

It was gone in an instant and I didn’t know if it had been a mere trick played on me by my imagination.

“You will find out when the time comes.”

I wanted to know more, wanted to learn about the origins of the cube, but somehow I knew it was wrong to ask any more questions. This place was only to deliver the cube to my hands. What had to be done, was done.

As I turned and began walking towards the door, the figure behind me giggled again. It grew into laughter and out of curiosity, I glanced back.

I wish I hadn’t.

What I’d seen before in the blink of an eye was now fully visible. The real nature of the figure was now visible to me in all its horrendous, abominable glory.

It was a thing that defied reality itself, formless and twisted, an amalgamation of white, pudgy flesh so bloated it seemed ready to burst open. I saw tentacles and claws, eyes on places where they didn’t belong.

The laughter grew louder and louder and seemed to originate from dozens of throats at the same time.

Primal fear washed over me and in sheer and utter terror I rushed from the room and out of the shop.

I don’t know for how long or how far I ran. When I could finally think again, I was a shaking, panting mess. My lung was stinging, my body was sweaty and powerless, and for a moment I almost crashed to the ground.

Once I could move again, I noticed that it had to be late at night already.

For a second the image of the creature crawled back into my mind and my eyes darted here and there, expecting to find it lurking nearby. But now, there was nothing but an empty street.

“Had it all been a dream?” I wondered.

At that moment I noticed that I was holding something. It was the cube. In shock, I almost dropped the precious object before I pressed it against my chest, cradling it like a baby.

“Finally you’re mine,” I said out loud, wondering only for a second where all this happiness was coming from.

The one thing I didn’t know, though, was what it was for.

‘You find out when the time comes.’

The memory of the terrible abomination drove yet another surge of primal fear through my body. I stumbled, froze up, and had to lean against a building when my body started shaking.

A woman passed by and turned around, a worried look on her face.

Only when the shaking had stopped did I realize how weak I was. This entire thing had been too much for me.

I found the nearest bus station and took the bus home. People were staring at me as I clung to the precious cube, but I didn’t mind. No, I didn’t care.

When I arrived in my apartment, I carefully placed the cube on my desk before I slumped down on my bed.

The next day started like every other day. I woke up in bed and for a while, I contemplated to just lay there and never move again.

Then I realized something was different. For the first time in months, I couldn’t recall my dreams. There was no memory of any strange figures and neither of the cube.

At that moment I remembered what had happened. I jumped out of bed and rushed to my desk.

My precious cube was still there. It was astonishing, beautiful, a genuine work of art and for a while, I couldn’t do anything but stare at it. Then I reached out for it. At first, I only touched it delicately, moving my fingers around the edges before I picked it up.

There were so many carvings and symbols on it. It was mesmerizing. I sat there, turning it around and around while I studied each of its sides. When I could finally rip my attention from it, almost an hour had passed.

I went to the kitchen and made myself some coffee. As I waited for it, I noticed all the drawings on the kitchen table. When I compared them to the real cube, I realized they were identical. It was crazy, but what I’d drawn back then was the exact image of the real one resting on my desk.

I told myself again that something was wrong about this. Not only wrong, but somehow dangerous. I knew I should throw the damned thing away.

Yet, whenever I stared at it, I could not do so. I felt drawn to it, treasured it, and all thoughts of letting it go evaporated.

Whenever I touched it though, every fiber in my body seemed to tremble, seemed to cringe back, but I had to. I had to feel the wood, the carvings, the secrets hidden inside of it. Oh, I knew there was so much more to this cube. There was a connection.

‘When the time comes, you will know.’

I kept hearing the word again and again whenever I stared at the cube. My mind was a mess. All my thoughts revolved around this mysterious object and what it was for.

I wasn’t able to do anything that day. Hour after hour passed, studying the cube and searching for any hint of its purpose.

When I put it down again, I realized it was already early evening. As I turned my eyes from the cube for the first time in what must’ve been hours, I realized how drained I felt. I looked at it one last time, fought the urge to pick it up again, and went to bed.

My dreams that night were more vivid than ever before. They were a mess. An oh-so terrible mess of all the sad things that had ever happened to me.

From the death of my first pet when I was no older than six to mom’s accident and dad’s illness up to the break-up with my boyfriend. It was all there in each painful little detail.

I woke up devastated and curled up into a ball. When I stared at my phone, I realized that barely three hours had passed. It wasn’t even midnight yet.

Where had all this come from? Why now? The tears streamed from my eyes and didn’t stop. I could do nothing but lay in bed and cry and cry and cry.

Suddenly I felt something. It was an indescribable feeling. The crying stopped and after a while, I got up and left the bed behind. My steps led me through the room and I knew right away where I was going.

To the cube.

With this strange feeling came knowledge, a revelation. It seemed the right time had come because I knew exactly what I had to do.

With quick steps, I hurried to the kitchen, got all the tools I needed, and put them on the desk right next to the cube.

The procedure wouldn’t be easy, but with the cube, I knew I’d be able to do it.

There was no going back now.

With that, I picked up the first of the many tools and cut deep into my chest.

It was almost morning when I was finished. I picked up the now pulsating cube and carefully put it on a pillow in a drawer. It was a place where it would be safe, at least for the time being. Then I went to clean up all the tools, put them away, and took a shower.

When I was done, I sat down on the couch to take a rest.

I wasn’t sad anymore. All the sadness and helplessness I’d felt for so long were gone. Not only they were gone, but all my feelings were too.

There was nothing anymore. I was empty and devoid of all emotions. An emotionless expression appeared on my face, something that might once have been a smile.

While I was sitting there, the sun was rising. I watched as night changed today and darkness was pushed back by light. The scenery outside was supposed to be beautiful, at least that’s what my memories told me.

Yet, I didn’t feel a thing.

I watched as the golden light of sunrise engulfed the world outside. There was nothing about it. I saw it, but I didn’t feel. Even as tears ran down my cheeks, I didn’t feel a thing.

It was as if my body was reacting to something it remembered, but that wasn’t there anymore. Something that was a part of every human being.

The ability to feel.

I realized what I’d done. What I’d lost. And as the tears kept flowing, I knew I’d lost it forever.

A Writer Has to Pay Attention to the Details…

As you all know, I’m a fiction writer. These days most of my stories belong to the horror genre, but that hasn’t always been the case.

Today, as well, I’m not here to talk about serial killers, shapeshifters, or infernal church organs. No, today, I want to talk a bit about writing, writing fiction to be precise.

Writing was always important to me. I grew up with the tales of the Brothers Grimm and stories from Greek mythology. For as long as I can think, fictional stories had a place in my heart. It was only natural for me to write stories of my own.

When I first got on the internet, it was a whole new world for me. Everything was new and exciting. Before long I scurried the World Wide Web for fictional stories and places to share my own.

I found many of those places, some bigger, other smaller. It made me happy to see that so many people still enjoy the written word in these times of perpetual distraction and cheap entertainment.

During the years I’ve read hundreds of fictional stories on the internet. I worked my way through countless tales of science-fiction and fantasy before I fell in love with the horror genre.

There’s one thing I noticed though. Many writers make one grave mistake:

They don’t pay enough attention.

Not to their writing, per se, but to the world around them. As a writer, you have to look closer. You have to see, to watch and, of course, to learn.

The reason is simple. A writer has to tell the truth. If you don’t look at the world around you, you won’t be able to tell the truth about it. In turn, your readers won’t be able to see what you want to show them.

While I read quite a few brilliant stories, many by writers far more talented than me, the majority lacked the above qualities. Things don’t feel real and I wasn’t able to create a vivid picture in my mind. All I could see was a meshed up blur of half-truths.

Great writing is different, much different, but it also takes much more effort.

You see, if I want to write about nature, for example, I take a walk before I sit down to write. I look at the grass, let my hands slide through it to feel each blade. I study the strange patterns of the tree bark and watch how each leaf is shaken slightly differently by the wind. Once I get back, I put all those images into my story.

That’s what it takes to paint a vivid picture in your reader’s mind.

The same holds true for all sorts of activities. If one of your characters is a musician, but you never held an instrument, you won’t be able to paint a clear picture of playing music.

When it comes to research, people go to Wikipedia, YouTube, or talk to someone knowledgeable in the field. This is not enough to put things down as they are. There will always be something missing.

I once wrote a story about a painter, but somehow, it all felt wrong and stilted. Even after reading various pages on Wikipedia and watching videos on YouTube, I couldn’t shake off the feeling that I didn’t know enough.

The problem was that I didn’t know what it was like to be a painter.

Eventually, I headed out to a crafts store nearby. I got myself some paints, a variety of different brushes, and set out to paint my neighborhood. The result was an embarrassingly bad painting. After I finished it, though, I understood how complex painting truly was. I had learned that the strokes of the brush had to be delicate and how important the amount of paint was you used.

After this experience, writing the story became much easier. The story felt real, alive, and most important of all, true. It was an overwhelming feeling, and the story was one of the best I’d ever written. I even remember the editor of the publication asking me if I was, by chance, a painter myself.

This took place a few years ago and ever since then I held true to one certain principle.

I’d only write about things I’d done before, knew about, or was willing to try out for the story. It didn’t mean that I had to become a singer or work as a chef to write about those things. It only meant that I had to try those things out on my own and try to get them done to the best of my ability.

There was one obvious downside, though. It restricted my choice of topics and it limited my output considerably. I didn’t mind though. The quality of my work improved, and I soon learned that quality always wins over quantity.

As good as things sounded, there was one time when things took a turn for the worse.

At the time, I’d been dating a girl for a year. We were quite a good match and things worked out well. I was always pressed on money though. So I accepted a few questionable commissions. One of those was an erotica story about a rather weird sexual fetish. I was a little deterred at the prospect of writing smut, but they were willing to pay me quite a bit of money.

I won’t elaborate on what I was writing about, but it took quite a bit to convince my girlfriend to try it out. The biggest problem was, I didn’t have any experience writing this type of story. I didn’t want to miss out on the payment, so I ended up pressing her to repeat the entire thing a few more times over the week. She complied, but I could tell that she hated every second.

At the end of the week, I sent out one of my finest pieces yet, but also my girlfriend. She couldn’t deal with me anymore. She’d been annoyed at my habit of trying out weird things to write about them. The last straw was to get her involved in it. She told me she felt disgusted with herself and didn’t want to deal with my eccentricities anymore.

I guess it was for the best. She was never the type to understand what true art was about.

After the break-up, I was heartbroken, as you can expect, but also excited. It meant I could try out a few different things.

Writing about sex had a certain edge to it. Don’t get me wrong, I’ll never write smut or erotica for a living, but I had to admit, it was exciting.

For all the downsides the internet has, it’s still man’s greatest invention. There are so many weird, little niches, and finding a girl who’d be willing to help me out wasn’t too hard. She liked that I was a writer and was into quite a few strange things.

This chapter of my life didn’t last long though. I wrote a few brilliant stories, but the weirder the sex got, the more of a strange aftertaste it left.

Before long, I closed this strange chapter of my life for good.

What I didn’t give up on, though, were my principles. From this point onward I did other, questionable things.

At one point I accepted a story commission about a drug dealer. I knew that one of my friends sold weed and other fashion drugs to college students in town. After some back and forth and me paying him a bit of money, he allowed me to follow him along.

Things took a turn for the worse though when he got into an argument with a group of troublemakers. The entire thing escalated, and he got beaten up right in front of me. Not a great night, I can tell you. Still, there was something about the violence, about the blood. I’d read so many stories online and while they beat up my friend, I understood what those writers weren’t getting right. They’d never seen true violence, never seen actual blood flowing.

At another time I helped a friend who owned a night club in a rougher area of town. I spent the better part of the night working with the bouncers. We handled a few drunk guests and even got into a fight with a group of people who weren’t willing to leave yet. The following day I wrote a story about my experiences. Again, the editor commended me for my writing. What he wondered about was that I described the breaking of a bone as a wet snap and not a crack. Well, what can I tell you, that’s exactly what it sounded like.

After those two events, I finally wrote my first horror stories. I guess there was some part of me, something hidden inside the back of my brain that had enjoyed the violence I’d seen.

It wasn’t long before a friend of mine got curious about my shift towards the horror genre. I told him I wanted to try out a few things, and that it was nothing but morbid curiosity.

As I said before, many of the horror stories I read online lack the attention to detail. They don’t go the necessary extra mile, to tell the truth.

I on the other hand are more than willing. After all, it’s the core principle of my art.

There are so many things I’m eager to write about and I’m sure, if I get my hands a little dirty, they will come out just right.

Robert’s Repairs

If you’d seen Robert’s Repairs, you’d most likely think of it as a simple, small-town repair shop—the owner, Robert, just another typical grease monkey. In reality, there was much more to the shop and its owner.

The most interesting fact about Robert was that he could fix anything. I don’t remember when it started. One day, the people in my hometown found out that Robert was not a typical mechanic, but more of a jack of all trades. It made no difference to him if it was a car, a toy, household appliances or electronic devices. Good old Robert would fix it all. Something broke or was damaged? You brought it to Robert’s Repairs, and it was as good as new.

As a person too, Robert was fascinating. I remember that the first time I ever talked to him was when I got my bike back. The chain and the gears had all been entangled and damaged, so my parents brought it over to Robert. He told them to be back in a couple of days.

It was fixed entirely when I came back to the shop. He told me to be more careful while handling the gears. I was told to be sure to keep them sufficiently greased and oiled so that it wouldn’t happen again. I thanked him, and before I left, I asked how he was able to fix all the things that people would bring over to him. I had been interested in machines and mechanisms ever since I was little. You could say that, because of all the stories, Robert had become a sort of role model to me.

“It is simple,” he started to explain.

“Every mechanism, machine, or tool is made up of parts like this clock. See?”

He picked up a small clock he had found lying on his workbench.

“It doesn’t matter what it is. The bigger and more complex it is, the more parts there are, sure, but in the end, it is always the same principle.”

“What you do is disassemble it into all its parts.” With that, he opened the back of the clock to reveal the inner workings. He took out the various gears, springs, and other parts.

“Then, you have to find out which of them are broken, damaged, or causing problems. Take this one here.”

He held up a deformed spring.

“Now, you have to fix it or replace it and put it back together.”

Robert replaced the spring with a new one and put the clock back together with care. I stood there, dumbfounded.

For the nine-year-old me, it was as if I had found the Holy Grail. The biggest secret in the whole wide world had been revealed to me. Robert must have noticed because he started to laugh.

I am sure I must have just stood there, mouth agape, not saying anything.

From that day onward, I spent a lot of time at Robert’s shop. My parents knew and were happy about it. I had found a new hobby, and with luck, I’d be able to learn a thing or two.

In time, I grew to like Robert. Soon, I found out that he not only knew a lot about mechanics but also a variety of other topics. When he didn’t have to fix anything, he’d teach me about science, or he’d tell me things from history.

He even gave me a couple of his old books. Most were on math, but there were some on science and electronics, as well. I loved that stuff.

Robert was the smartest guy in the world to me. My opinion of him should get even higher.

One day a little boy with his pet came over to Robert’s shop. He was crying and said his kitty was sick and hurt, and he had no idea what to do or where to go. Robert, the good guy that he was, nodded and told the boy everything would be alright. He’d take care of it, and the boy should come back in a few days. It was precisely what he had told my parents when they had brought over my bike.

“What are you going to do with it?” I asked Robert once the boy was gone.

“Are you going to take it to the hospital or call the animal doctor?”

Robert laughed.

“No need for that,” he said in his ever happy and euphoric way.

“Nothing I can’t take care of myself.”

“What do you mean, Robert?”

I stared at him wondering what he was talking about.

“Remember what I told you before? That everything is made up of parts?”

I nodded.

“Well, it is the same with animals too. They are just big, organic machines. You find the broken parts, fix them, and they’ll be fine again.”

“But that’s not how animals work!” I said in protest.

“We’ll see about that, shall we?”

With that, he took the hurt little cat in his hands and walked towards a door at the back of the shop. I started to follow him.

“Now, hold on a second, Mark, will you?”

With that, he vanished behind the door. A few moments later, he was back, but without the cat.

“What did you do to it?”

“I put it somewhere safe. Can’t have the little guy in here with all the grease and dirt around, can we?”

“What’s behind the door?” I asked him and went forward to open it and see for myself.

Robert put his arm in front of me. “Sorry, but that’s top secret.”

I pouted and complained for quite a while, but Robert didn’t give in. In the end, I spend the rest of the afternoon helping him repair an old TV set and afterward made my way home. On the way, I was thinking about what he had told me.

That same evening during dinner, I asked my parents how you’d fix animals. They laughed and soon changed the topic to something else.

When I went to Robert’s shop again a few days later, I couldn’t believe my eyes. Right at the front porch was a little kitty, sleeping and purring without a worry in the world.

I recognized it right away as the one that the little boy had brought over the other day. I went closer to the kitty and carefully started to pet it. It opened its eyes, looked at me, and then rubbed its little head against my hand. The kitty was perfectly fine.

Robert saw me playing with it and gave me a thumbs-up.

“Good as new.”

“How did you do it, Robert?”

“Exactly the way I told you: I fixed the broken parts.”

I made a sour face at his simple answer, but Robert ignored it.

When the little boy came over, he cried tears of joy. His little friend was alright. His parents, who’d accompanied him, thanked Robert for saving the cat. Robert smiled and nodded. From that day onward, people would not only bring all sorts of items and appliances to Robert. No, they also started to bring their sick pets.

It seemed Robert really could fix anything. A cat with broken legs? She’d be fine a few days later. A limping dog? Same thing. A dying hamster? He’d be fit and full of life again in no time.

During this time, I was at the store even more often than before. There’d always be animals around to play with. It was only the healthy ones, though, the ones that Robert had already fixed, as he used to say. He kept all the others in what Robert called the top secret room. I had no idea what exactly he did with them in there or how he went about fixing them.

The thought of how Robert was doing all the things he did stayed on my young mind for a long time. Did Robert have a secret medicine that no one else knew about?

More than once did I try to sneak into the room, but either I found the door locked or Robert caught me. In time, I accepted it as the way things were supposed to be. The room was off limits.

My doubts about Robert were reawakened in the middle of the summer break. It was then that Robert did something that even I, as a kid, knew to be completely and utterly impossible.

It was a typical Saturday afternoon, and I spend it at Robert’s shop as usual. I was playing with a cat and waiting for Robert to fix up an old bike. He had promised to teach me a few more things about electronics once he was done.

My attention was drawn from the cat to a car that arrived out of nowhere and came to a stop with squealing tires. A crying woman jumped out of the passenger seat, followed by a man on the driver’s seat.

The woman came running over towards Robert.

“You have to save her!” she cried, tears streaming down her face.

Robert walked towards her, his expression serious in an instant.

“What happened?”

The woman continued to talk to him, but I couldn’t make out most of it. I heard the words accident and car and then she was pleading him over and over to save her and to do it again. I didn’t understand what she was talking about. Robert motioned her to be quiet. Then he hurried over to the man who brought out the limp body of a little girl from the backseat.

“She was hit about ten minutes ago,” I heard the man say.

There was so much blood. It was everywhere. I was in shock and looked on wide-eyed. Her arms and legs were dangling from her body. She wasn’t moving at all. For a moment, I saw her face. Her eyes were completely empty.

“Go home for today, Mark. I’ll teach you another day,” he said to me as he motioned for the father to bring the girl inside.

I didn’t understand what was going on. Why did they bring the girl to Robert? I wanted to stay and started to follow them inside.

Robert noticed me after a few moments, and for the first time ever, he seemed to be mad at me.

“I told you to go home, Mark!” he yelled at me. It was the first time I had heard him like that. His voice had changed and was loud and serious, even a little frightening. I left right away.

I didn’t understand how he’d do it, but I already knew what was going to happen. The girl had been hurt, and her parents had brought her over so Robert would fix her.

Then, I told myself that it was stupid. They were there to call a hospital or a doctor. Animals were one thing, but humans are different, right? When I got home, I told my parents what had happened, but they only nodded, not really listening. They most likely didn’t believe me or didn’t understand what I was talking about. I must have been way too agitated.

I later heard the whole story of what had happened that day. The little girl’s name was Margaret Miller, and she was eleven years old. She was out with her parents. While they crossed the main street, she had dropped something. Without watching, she ran to get it. The driver of an oncoming car had no chance to stop in time, and she was run over. The people who saw it said that it was a terrible accident, and everyone was sure that the girl had died instantly.

That was when the parents took her and brought her over to Robert.

My skin started to crawl when I went over to Robert’s shop the next time. At first, I wasn’t sure, but soon, there was no mistaking it—a little girl was sitting on the bench in front of the store, beaming at me as I came closer. I stared at her wide-eyed for a moment.

“Who are you? Are you Robert’s daughter?”

“Hi! My name is Margaret,” she answered with a big smile and held her hand out to me.

While I shook her hand, I remembered the name. It was the same name as that of the little girl that had been hit by the car. What was this? I stammered something, unsure what to say. Before I spoke again, Robert, who had seen me, called me over.

“Mark, this is important. Don’t talk to her about anything you saw the other day, alright?”

“But why?”

“It is too early for her to remember something as scary as the accident.”

I nodded, but I felt as if this wasn’t the real reason.

“What did you do to her? Did you cure her?”

Or fix her, I thought, as he always referred to it for some reason.

“How did you do it?”

Robert smiled, and he gave me the same answer he had given me so many times before:

“You simply have to find the parts that are broken and fix them.”

That’s when I exploded at him. I had enough. Even at my age, I knew things weren’t as easy as he made them out to be.

“But that is not how it works! You can’t bring someone back to life by fixing their parts!”

Robert’s face changed to a soft and somewhat sad smile.

“You are right, Mark. Sometimes, there is no easy way to fix things. Sometimes, you have to replace all the parts that are irreparable.”

I didn’t understand what he was talking about at that time. Was he still talking about humans? Or was he talking about machines again? I was puzzled.

“It is like with this.” He turned away from me to find something to explain things. That’s when I saw my chance. I started to run for the door at the end of the shop. I pressed the handle, and with a loud noise that surprised even me, the door opened.

“Mark, what are you-” I heard Robert call out to me.

I came to a halt right away. I had no idea what I was seeing. To this day, I don’t know what the place I saw back then was exactly.

I saw futuristic machines and test tubes. There were various glass tanks and containers. Cabinets and computers lined the walls. An innumerable amount of cables connected it all together. The room stood in stark contrast to the rest of Robert’s shop. Everything else was dirty, greasy and old. This room here was new and clean, almost sterile.

In the middle of the room was a large table. Something was laying on it, covered by a large sheet of white cloth. I don’t know why, but I went forward and pulled. I saw a small white arm, then a shoulder, and finally a face. A female face.

It was right at that point that Robert reached me, pulled me away, and pushed me out of the room.

He was yelling at me, but I didn’t hear anything. I only saw it for a moment, but I knew whose face I had seen there. Once I had gathered myself, I confronted Robert.

“Why is she back there? She is outside, isn’t she?”

Robert’s expression changed again. The anger went away, and now his face showed a sad expression again.

“What do you do when something is broken beyond repair?”

I didn’t know. I couldn’t even think of an answer.

“In that case,” he said, “you have to replace the whole thing.”

It was this statement that freaked me out more than anything because I knew what he was implying. That little girl outside wasn’t Margaret Miller; she was a replacement. Robert didn’t say anything else or even try to stop me as I walked out.

I saw the little girl again. She was still where she had been when I had arrived. Her friendly but empty smile haunted me for the rest of the summer.

After that day, I never went back to Robert’s Repairs again. The place was wrong—unnatural. I never found out exactly what Robert had done, but I knew it was not normal.

As of this summer, that was more than ten years ago. I heard a lot more about Robert’s ordeals and antics throughout the years. There were other stories about more people he fixed. It was all so weird.

I mean, Robert never did anything wrong to anyone, but somehow, I knew that what he was doing was wrong.

Before you ask, yes, I told my parents about what I had seen, but they shrugged it off. They didn’t believe me and said I shouldn’t make up stories like that. The more I pleaded with them and assured them that what I’d seen was true, the more they ignored me.

It was right after I finished high school that I left town, and with it, Robert’s Repairs, behind. I couldn’t stay there anymore.

I am in a bigger city now, and I am going to college. I am majoring in the STEM field, which, I hate to admit, is due to Robert’s influence on me as a kid.

I recently visited my parents. We talked a lot about old memories and went through a couple of photo albums of my middle and high school years. It made me feel quite nostalgic.

Later that evening, after my parents had already gone to bed, I decided to have a look at a couple of the older albums. I remembered that my parents pretty much had created one for every year of my life. The first thing I noticed was that one of the albums was thinner than the rest. I was eight years old at the time. I looked through it and saw that it went from melting snow and early spring right to pictures of autumn.

The next day, I asked my mother about it and where the pictures of my eighth birthday were. She told me I had been very sick that year and had stayed at the hospital for some time. Her eyes betrayed her. She was never good at lying, and I noticed it right away. Even after calling her out on it, she insisted that it was true.

I tried to think back. Had I ever stayed at a hospital? I couldn’t remember anything like it. I thought back to my school days. I would have been in second grade back then. For some reason, I couldn’t pinpoint much about this time… or anything before it, for that matter. I felt cold all of a sudden.

I had seen the albums filled with pictures of me in kindergarten. I had seen me on my first day of school and during first grade.

Even when I tried my hardest, though, I couldn’t recall anything about it. It was as if all my memories before second grade were missing. Had I suffered a concussion and lost all my memory?

At that moment, something came back to me—the smell of oil and grease… the sound of machines and tools. There it was—the memory of sitting on a bench and my parents running towards me and hugging me. What were those images? Was it at the hospital? If so, why was I outside?

Then it hit me. The grease. The oil. The bench I was sitting on.

It was same as the little girl who had been sitting on the bench in front of Robert’s shop. It was precisely the same image, only that I saw it through my eyes. I had been sitting there too, on the same bench, waiting as well.

I was shaking now because I understood. This must have been when I was in second grade, almost a year before I had been visiting Robert regularly.

Long before Robert had fixed that little girl, he had fixed me too. That’s why her mother had been pleading him to do it again.

I had been fixed by Robert as well. The only question was:

What exactly had he done to me?

Dolls

What’s the most terrifying thing that ever happened to you?

For the longest time, I thought I’d seen almost anything and there weren’t a lot of things that would still scare me. Oh, how wrong I was.

I’d laugh about the entire thing, at how ridiculous it was, if it hadn’t been so terrifying.

Now let’s get something out of the way. I’m not exactly a productive member of society. No, I’m a thief or a burglar to be more precise.

I do most of my jobs with another guy, Frank. We’ve been partners for almost a year. The guy’s a junky and a total nutjob. Usually, I’d never work with someone as unhinged as him, but Frank’s somehow able to find the juiciest targets.

A couple of weeks ago he told me he’d found a new target. It was an old, remote mansion in the middle of nowhere.

“Used to belong to one of those rich, noble families back in the day. By now there’s only an old woman living there. Heard she’s filthy rich, never married, and lives all on her own.”

“How the hell are you able to find out these things?”

Frank gave me a wink and showed me a toothy grin.

“Well, secret of the trade. Now listen, this one might be our juiciest target, yet. I’m not talking about cash, of course. From what I learned, the place is filled with pricy artwork, jewelry, and many other things those rich folks collect.”

What can I say, I was always pressed on money, so I was in.

We had to travel half the country, but Frank assured me it was worth it.

We went by the usual protocol:

First, we put up camp nearby at a location where no one would find us. Then we’d keep the place under surveillance for a couple of days to learn as much as possible. Who goes in, who goes out, when and where, and how tight security is. Information is king in this profession.

We spent half a week spying on the place, but we saw no one entering or leaving. The only thing that proved that anyone was living there was one lonely light on the second floor. Each evening, as soon as the sun had set, it went on. Almost like clockwork.

What I’d been most worried about was security. The rich folks knew that there were people like us out there, so many of them went to some lengths to protect themselves. I’d expected this mansion to be no different.

As it turned out though, my worries were unfounded. Our surveillance revealed that there was no security at all.

The entire place was ripe for the taking.

We made our break on a Thursday evening. Things always went better on weekdays.

We snuck up to the backside of the place in the night’s cover and hurried to one of the enormous windows.

Breaking in was child’s play. The windows were so old it took only a minute before it swung wide open.

We’d known that the place was huge, but we were still stunned by the giant, lavish hallway we entered.

The floor was made of rich wood paneling while the ceiling was decorated with similar rich inlays. As I let my eyes wander around, I noticed the paintings that covered the walls.

I stepped up to one of them and had a closer look. It was a relatively simple painting of a young girl. Upon closer inspection, I could tell that it wouldn’t be worth a thing.

As Frank and I continued I had a look at some of the other paintings. They were all the same, all depicting young girls.

We checked some rooms as we passed them, but they were all sparely furnished. What I noticed though was that they too were decorated by similar paintings. From what I’d seen so far, there had to be dozens, if not hundreds of them.

Before long we gave up on the rooms and decided to make our way straight to the second floor. That’s where the old woman had to be.

Most of the time the best way to find out where people kept their valuables was to ask them nicely. The second best way was to ask them not so nicely. Searching the entire place on your own was a very distant third.

It wasn’t long before we found a humongous staircase that led us to the second floor. As we stared upward, we could see the slight glimmer of light that escaped from under the door.

I couldn’t help but smile. Gotcha, I thought.

When I pushed open the heavy door, we set foot into a study. Old, heavy bookshelves lined the walls. The old woman was sitting in a cozy armchair in front of a fireplace at the back of the room. She didn’t even seem to notice us when we entered.

As we stepped closer, I heard her reading out loud from a book in her hands. At first, I thought a child was sitting in her lap, but after a moment I realized that it was a doll. More specifically, the doll of a young girl with bright red hair.

For a while, I watched the curious sight from afar before I stepped closer and made my presence known.

“How about you put the book down, lady,” I said.

She didn’t seem scared or even surprised to see us.

“Well, what brings you two young gentlemen to this place at this late hour?”

For a moment I stared at her. She didn’t seem to understand what was happening and didn’t seem to be in the right state of mind.

“It’s simple. Tell us where you keep your valuables and nothing bad happens.”

When she didn’t say a thing Frank went forward and ripped the book from her hands.

“You listening, you old bitch? You better not make us wait,” he spat at her, staring right into her eyes with a sardonic grin on his face.

We’d perfected the good guy, bad guy routine, but I knew Frank had no problem hurting people. He was a tough guy and used to be a street thugh, the type who’d do anything if the money was right. I still remembered how he’d beaten some poor schmuck half to death when he didn’t tell us where his money was.

It took a few moments, but finally, the old lady seemed to understand what was going on. She was mumbling to herself while she stared at Frank and then at me.

Frank pushed his face closer to hers and put his huge hands on the armrests to either side of her.

“Now then, how about you spill the fucking beans?”

Her eyes rested on Frank.

“Cash, jewelry, anything else. Where do you keep it? I’d rather not have to ask again,” I said in as friendly a voice as I could muster.

“In the bedroom, at the end of the hallway,” she pressed out and pointed to a door with one of her thin arms.

“Please take good care of our host,” I said to Frank who nodded and clenched and unclenched his hands in front of her.

“Well then, I’ll have a look and see if you told me the truth, mam. I hope you did. None of us wants things to get ugly, right?”

As I said this, I made my way towards the door she’d pointed at, one step at a time.

This was usually when people broke. It doesn’t help to have someone like Frank standing in front of you. The old lady kept quiet, though. I was torn between admiration for keeping it together so well and believing she’d told me the truth right away.

The hallway was longer than I’d expected. There were a few rooms to either side, but I didn’t bother with them.

Her bedroom was as big as the study had been. I didn’t understand why anyone would need one that large, especially if it was almost empty. There was nothing except a wardrobe, two cupboards, and a bed in here.

I went straight for the first cupboard. What I found was nothing but useless crap. It was filled with old newspaper clippings, handwritten notebooks, and pictures. There was no hint of any jewelry in there. The second one was the same. I found a few necklaces and some earrings, but it was all cheaply made. Once you’ve been in this profession for a while you developed an eye for those things. Most fakes are easily spotted and this stuff here wasn’t even trying to be anything else.

As I moved to the wardrobe, Frank cursed loudly, and I soon heard his footsteps in the hallway. A moment later he barged into the room. His eyes were wide and all the color had vanished from his face.

“The hell are you doing here? Why aren’t you watching the old bitch?”

“Jesus fuck man, the freaking thing talked to me out of nowhere!”

“What are you talking about?”

“The freaking doll, man! The one on her lap!”

“All right man, what the hell’s the matter with you? You never heard about talking dolls? They’ve got some sort of-“

“No,” he started, shaking his head vehemently, “this shit was different! Didn’t sound like no recorded voice! And then the thing fucking booked it! Ran straight out of the room!”

He looked straight at me and I could tell how terrified he was.

“Something’s wrong with this place, I tell you,” he went on.

I stared at him and wondered how high he was to come up with something like a freaking haunted doll.

“Frank what are you-?” I asked as he took out a small plastic bag with a variety of pills in it.

“Shut the hell up. Shit gives me the creeps, got to calm down somehow.”

I turned away and made my way back to the study only to find the armchair empty.

“Shit! The fucking bitch’s gone. Why the hell did you have to leave her alone? Jesus, man,” I yelled back at him, but I got no answer.

This wasn’t good at all. I could already imagine her on the phone with the cops. Shit, we hadn’t even found any valuables yet.

I rushed from the study and towards the stairs, but there was no hint of her anywhere. Bitch’s freaking fast, I thought.

At this moment Frank appeared next to me.

“So you finally,” I started but broke off when I saw his face. This wasn’t good. He was out of it.

As I said, Frank was a nutjob. Most of the time he was fine, but on drugs, there was no saying what he’d do. Dammit, this would get ugly.

When he started down the stairs, I followed him without another word.

Now, where the hell did she run off to? We checked the rooms to our left and right but found all of them to be empty.

We’d just checked another room when I heard someone mumbling from down the hallway. It sounded like someone was mumbling to themselves. It had to be the damned old bitch.

As soon as Frank heard it, his steps became faster, and I heard him cursing to himself.

Suddenly, Frank stopped in his tracks. At first, I didn’t see why he’d stopped, but then I saw it. It was the little doll who’d been sitting on the old woman’s lap before. It sat there, leaning against the wall, its head tilted into our direction.

“That’s the damn thing,” Frank cursed and stayed well clear of it as he continued.

I had taken only a few steps when I heard a childlike voice from behind me.

“Why are you ignoring me, mister robber?”

I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up as I turned around. There was no one here except Frank, me and that damned doll, right? I’d half expected to find a child standing behind me, but there was only the doll. I could’ve sworn its head was different now, as if it had turned to look after me.

It’s just your imagination, I told myself, but right at this moment, the doll’s tiny mouth opened again.

“Cat got your tongue?”

With that, the thing jumped to its tiny porcelain feet. For a moment it stared at me before it giggled and ran down the hallway in front of me.

“Catch me if you can,” its voice trailed off as it vanished.

I lost my balance and stumbled against the wall. I’m not the type to get scared easily and have seen my share of terrible things; people beaten half to death, torture, and at least one murder. This right here, though, was different.

You might not believe me, but I’ve seen nothing as terrifying as this piece of porcelain, this inanimate object, getting up and running away. The worst was the fucking giggling. Frank was right, there was no way this had been a recording.

“Frank, where the fuck are you?” I called out down the hallway.

He stumbled out from a room only to rush into another one.

“The hell are you doing? Let’s get out of here!” I yelled after him.

I was scared shitless of whatever was going on and for a moment I considered running off and leaving him behind. Then, after a few moments, I cursed and went after him.

The room he’d entered was huge, far bigger than anything I’d seen so far. In the dark, you couldn’t even make out the walls.

The only thing I saw was the old lady standing right in front of us. She was still wearing the same nightgown, and I saw how skinny she was. Her arms and legs were as thin as sticks while the rest of her body was strangely bloated. For a moment I even thought I saw something move below her nightgown.

I averted my eyes in disgust only to notice the little red-haired doll peeking out from behind her.

“You’ve done very well my dear, little girl,” the old lady said, smiling at the doll before she picked her up.

The little thing in her arms giggled and hid her face behind her hands for the moment as if in embarrassment.

I was frozen, not sure what to make of the surreal sight in front of me.

Frank on the other hand was beyond all such things as worry and fear. Without so much as a second thought, he stepped forward.

“That’s it, you damn thing,” he screamed and ripped the doll from the old woman’s arms. The little voice changed from giggling to a scream as Frank raised her high above his head. A second later he brought the doll down onto the ground. Bits and pieces of porcelain flew everywhere.

“Fuck you,” Frank yelled again and again, as he stomped on the remains of the doll.

The old woman screeched, but before she could do anything, Frank hit her square in the face with all the force he could muster. There was an audible crack, and I saw her go down like a wet sack.

“Frank, let’s-“ I started but broke off when I saw the slumped down body of the old woman move again.

I gasped, waited for her to get up again, but instead, I saw a multitude of small dolls rush out from under the nightgown. Each one of them was holding a part of her, leaving nothing but the old nightgown behind.

“Now you’ve done it,” I heard one of them mimic in the old woman’s voice. They all stared at me and Frank before they giggled as the red-haired doll had.

“You will never get out of here,” they yelled at us in a cacophony of high-pitched childlike voices.

Right at that moment, the entire room started to shake. I thought it would collapse, but then the lights went on.

That’s when I saw what had caused it. The walls of the room were covered in dolls. There were too many to count; hundreds, maybe thousands of them. I watched in horror as they all sprang to life.

A moment later they rushed forward into mine and Frank’s direction.

“Frank, run!” I screamed at him, but I saw that the dolls who’d made up the old lady jumped onto him. He tore them off and threw them to the ground, but more and more of the tiny white bodies closed in on him.

“You fucking pieces of-“ he screamed, throwing them left and right but was soon buried below them.

At that moment I ran from the room and rushed down the hallway. I soon found myself at the staircase again.

“Shit,” I cursed to myself and was about to turn around, to find the window we’d entered from.

That’s when I heard it.

It was the most ridiculously terrifying sound you can imagine. The scampering of thousands of little feet and legs.

Only moments later I saw an army of white porcelain bodies rush towards me. Their bright colorful dresses and innocent, smiling faces made it so, so much worse.

The worst was the giggling. A cacophony of thousands of little voices, all giggling happily as they rushed towards me.

At that moment my instincts took over. My consciousness was pushed back, and I watched as my body functioned on autopilot. I ran. I was in the study, then in the hallway that led to the bedroom. A moment later I found myself in one of the rooms to the left. I didn’t understand where I was even going. My mind was a complete and utter blank.

What saved me from ending up like Frank was a window. As I heard the porcelain army getting closer, I threw myself through the glass without so much as a second thought.

I don’t know what would’ve happened if not for the bushes I landed in. The crash pushed all the air from my lungs and my arm was twisted below me. I screamed up in pain and for a moment everything went black. Then I fought myself up and ran from the mansion.

I have no idea how long I ran, but at one point I collapsed in exhaustion.

When I woke up, I jerked to my feet, half-expecting myself to be back at the mansion, surrounded by an army of small dolls.

Instead, I was in a meadow and the sun was already up.

I didn’t know where I was or where I should go. I scanned the area for a while before I noticed a small road.

After what seemed like an endless odyssey through the wilderness, I finally found our camp again.

As fast as I could I threw all our things into the back of the car and jumped behind the steering wheel.

Then I thought about Frank. Sure he was a nutjob, sure he acted like a psycho but he was still my partner. It didn’t make us friends, but it made us something.

What if he wasn’t dead? I couldn’t abandon him like that, could I?

I soon saw the mansion ahead of me. I stopped the car and got out one of the binoculars we’d used to keep the place under surveillance.

Everything seemed as normal as it could be. The windows were empty or covered by heavy curtains.

At first, I didn’t notice, but then I saw it. It was right at the second-floor window we’d focused on for all those days. The light wasn’t on, of course. Instead, I saw a small red-haired doll sitting on the windowsill.

There were cracks all over its face and as I stared at it I saw its tiny head move into my direction. Its eyes focused on me and then it raised one of its tiny, white arms and happily waved at me.

I started the car again, drove away, and never looked back.

Fuck this place, fuck Frank, and most important of all, fuck dolls!

Freak

I work in the mental ward of my city’s hospitals.

The first thing I can tell you is that it’s nothing like the movies depict it. It’s not filled with insane maniacs or serial killers. Most of our patients are people who are confused or have certain issues.

Sure, we had our share of crazy or dangerous people here, but those are a rare exception to the rule. Most of them get put into the mental asylum, eventually. That’s the place that most people think of when they hear about the mental ward.

A few weeks ago, we got a new patient. It’s a case of severe abuse, mental fatigue, and confusion. The kid is in his teens and probably about fifteen years old. At least, that’s what’s written in his file.

It was clear that he never went to an actual school and came from an abusive home. After a while, though, it became apparent that there was more going on.

When he described the community he grew up in, it sounded like a cult.

The biggest problem with the patient is that he’s not able to describe things very well. There seems to be an issue with his cognitive development and his vocabulary is extremely limited. Even worse, he seems to have no understanding of or experience with normal society. It’s almost as if he was living out in the wilderness for all his life.

Things became even weirder when we asked him to describe his home and the people he lived with. He looked at us when we said the world people and seem to not understand it. He said the others differed from him and regarded him as a freak.

Everything else he said made even less sense and seemed to be nothing but nonsense.

It was a week ago that one of our therapists Mrs. Conrad had an idea. Since the patient could read and write to a certain extent, she wanted him to write his story.

It was me who suggested we’d use a computer, and eventually Mrs. Conrad complied. With my help, we could slowly teach the patient how to use the keyboard and how text editing worked.

It was a whole new world for him and the first few days he enjoyed it to make letters and numbers appear on the screen.

After some more talk with Mrs. Conrad, though, he understood what he was supposed to do.

At first, he typed out what he saw at the hospital, but before long he typed out his story.

It took him days to write the entire tale and after reading it I’ve no idea what to make of it.

The longer I sit here though, the more I reread it, the more I feel that it’s not just nonsense.

I’ve transcribed the document here word by word:

Hello I was told to type out my story for the peoples here. It feels strange to sit here all day but the caretakers said it is good.

I am a male one. The caretaker told me I must be five and ten numbers. They said what the age number is but it is strange. Back where I come from we do not have that.

I lived with many others. We all were different. This word is hard but the caretaker showed me how to type it. Different. The caretakers said it is because of age. Some are smaller others are bigger because of it. I am not sure if they are right. We had mothers and fathers. Better to say male and female ones who took care of the ones that were smaller and different and needed help like me. The caretakers said it was us being young. Children they said. They say it means ofsprung. That is another word I don’t know. They tried to tell me that it is the ones born from others.

I am bad. I am one that does not belong. I am a freak they said. I was not thrown out but I was also not treated like the others. I had a box I slept in. The others slept inside. When it was food I only got what the others left or not wanted. The caretakers say it is terrible and were sad but it is normal for me. I am a freak and freaks live like that and so I never ask about it. The hits the beating the pain it was normal. I often hurt and was hungry but that was right and normal to me.

I was at my home very long and learned speaking and reading like the others. We had a place to learn from the olders. I was happy that a freak like me could learn. I liked learning. My brain was real good not like my body. I was told that a freak can not have a good brain and was beaten. It was normal like that.

I know I was bad and my body was wrong and different. The others looked not like me. My head and body is weird and my arms and legs are wrong. I do not know why. I got older and learned more and often thinked why I was different. I wanted to know why I was the only freak. I got hit hard and said to be happy to be alive. I never asked again but wanted to know still. When it is night I walked. It hurt because my body was weak and weird. The others could do better. I still did. At night they slept and I was alone. I liked that. The walking was nice and being alone was nice and no beating was nice. I was happy. But my body is fragile and small and weird and white. Not like theirs.

One night I walked to far. I have a good brain and I can think but sometimes I can not think like the others. I can not feel the way and the time like they do. So I walked more away than usual. I forgot time because I was thinking. I wondered about other freaks. They said freaks always were treated like me. My brain is good so I know there were other freaks before me. So I dreamt about more freaks and walked on. I was slow not like the others but I still walked. I tried to get back when it got light but my body is stupid and brain smart but different. I got lost and not home.

I was alone for a long time. It went dark and light many times. I got scared. I was not beaten but I still missed the others. I can not hunt and eat on my own. My body is dumb my jaw and teeth are weird. I tried to eat like the others do and get animals but they get away always. I am not like them.

I was alone and cried. More than before. I walked on but I was hungry and weak. The during light I found a way. The caretaker named it street. I was surprised but I had learned about it. I was scared since the others said it was dangerous. I walked on it and it felt weird not normal. I was scared by fast animals often so I hid when they were running by. I had to sleep at one point because I was tired and weak.

That is when the thing happened. I am so happy. I can not type the words but I am more happy than happy. Happy was when I got to eat and was not beaten but this was different.

I saw others. Not the others from home but other freaks. They rode the fast animals. It was weird and I laughed that they rode inside. Oh I got told it was no animal by the caretakers. It is a car. A machine like the computer I am writing on. I forgot for a moment because there is so much to learn. Learning is fun. I was really happy when I saw the other freaks but also very sleepy.

I slept for a long time and when I woke I was at a different place. Not a cave or hut but a special one. A spital I think it is. I am still here. It is the caretakers home. There are so many here. I am so happy because this is a freak place. I think all the freaks in the world are here. It is so weird. The caretakers are freaks too only they are different. They are completely white and they have things around their body that others do not. Maybe they are not freaks like me but they look it.

The caretaker was here for a long time. We talk a lot. I like that but my head hurts from learning. I am sleepy but they said freak is wrong. I do not know what they mean. They wrote down a word for me. I do not know it. I never heard it but they say it is normal.

The word is human.

Lizard Man

Urban legends. I think everyone knows a few of those. They are tales about ghastly incidents, frightening creatures, or supernatural things.

In my home area, one such legend persisted for a long time. It was the tale about the so-called ‘hombre lagarto’ or the lizard man.

The part of the city I grew up in was a dump. It wasn’t the slums, but it wasn’t much better.

The people living there were dirt poor. No one could afford video games or home entertainment apart from clunky, old TV sets. I could count the few toys I owned as a kid on one hand and they were old and cheaply made.

That’s why my friends and I spent most of our time outside. When we weren’t playing soccer or riding our bikes, we’d explore our neighborhood. We were often trying to find out which of the many local legends and tales were true.

That’s how we learned about the tale of the lizard man. I don’t know who started talking about it, but it soon became popular. All the local kids and teenagers talked about a humanoid lizard who lived somewhere in our neighborhood.

When we investigated, as we called it, we realized that the story had been around much longer than we thought. Many people around our neighborhood recalled having heard about lizard man.

For my group of friends and me, it was proof enough that the lizard man existed.

Our group comprised five kids. There was me, my best friend Samuel, Gabriel, David and Tomás, who we called Fat Tom.

At first, we only searched the area around our homes, but it was obvious that we’d not find lizard man there. Eventually, we grew braver and our search led us through the entire neighborhood.

It landed us in quite a bit of trouble. One time, as we explored an abandoned building, we even ran into a group of thugs. They were more than a little pissed and clarified that things would get ugly if they ever found us there again.

As I said, it was a dangerous neighborhood.

After the above encounter and not finding any hints about lizard man, my friends were close to giving up. They all said it was most likely nothing but a giant joke. I, however, wasn’t gonna give up.

“Oh, Felipe,” I heard someone call out to me after another one of our fruitless searches. I saw a group of teenagers nearby, sitting together, smoking, and drinking.

“Hello Andrés,” I mumbled a greeting to the one who’d called out to me. Before I could rush off though, he motioned for me to come closer.

“What have you been up to, Felipe? Still hunting lizard man?”

The rest of his group laughed as soon as he’d said that. I bit my tongue not to give a snarky reply. I knew I’d be up for a beating if I’d mouth up against Andrés and his group.

“We have, but we can’t find him anywhere.”

“Oh yeah, where’ve you been looking for him?” one of Andrés’ friends asked.

“Everywhere!” I exclaimed throwing my arms into the air.

The group laughed again. Andrés motioned for them to be quiet, got up, and brought his face close to mine.

“You wanna know where he lives?”

I nodded vehemently.

“He’s down in the old sewers,” he whispered with an enormous grin on his face before he got himself another beer.

“But how do we,” I started but Andrés had already returned to his friends. I stood there awkwardly, not sure if I was supposed to stick around or leave. Finally one of his friends flicked a cigarette butt at me.

“Oi, beat it!” he yelled.

That evening I thought about what Andrés had told me. Now it made sense. If lizard man lived down in the old sewers than of course, we’d not find him up here.

The old sewers had been created back in the day when my city experienced a rapid industrial boom. Dozens of factories and warehouses had been erected only to be abandoned a decade after.

What everyone called the old sewers were the remains of the piping system that had accommodated all the factories. It was a network of dirty tunnels that been dug out without as much as a second thought.

By now they too were abandoned and had been in disuse for years.

It was said that parts of the tunnels had collapsed throughout the years. What remained nowadays was a sprawling underground network.

The adults had declared them off-limits and said it was too dangerous down there. I knew, though, that some older kids had been down there.

The longer I thought about it, the more it made sense that lizard man was living down there.

I didn’t sleep much that night. I lay in bed, thinking about the old sewers and imagined lizard man’s secret lair and the terrible things he did there. When I finally drifted off to sleep, I dreamt about an entire society of humanoid lizards living below our city.

I think I was a bit too excited about the entire thing, but what can I say, I was an eleven-year-old boy.

—

“That’s dumb!” Samuel complained. “I don’t want to search for stupid lizard man anymore, Felipe.”

“But Andrés told me-“

“You believe his stupid stories? Everyone knows he’s a liar,” he complained.

I gasped when he said this and I took a few glances around to see if anyone might have heard him.

“You can’t say this,” I hushed him.

“Oh yeah, why not? I’m not afraid of him, or anyone else for that matter,” Samuel went on, putting his hands to his hips and pushing his chest out.

He was always a troublemaker and never listened to anything people told him.

“If he hears you say that he’s gonna beat you up.”

“He can try if he wants to!”

When Samuel grinned at me I frowned. I didn’t want to talk about Andrés anymore and I was more than relieved to see Gabriel and Fat Tom arrive.

Gabriel was enthusiastic as always. The moment he saw us he jumped off his bike and rushed towards us.

“What’s the plan for today?” he not only asked, but yelled at us.

Fat Tom was following behind him on his bike. He was exhausted and drenched in sweat. It must’ve been hell for him to keep up with Gabriel.

“We’ll make preparations to go after lizard man again,” I told the two of them. “As soon as David’s here, I’ll tell you what I found out.”

“You mean the lies Andrés told you about,” Samuel said laughing.

I shrugged. “We don’t know if he lied.”

It took almost another half hour before David arrived. He was quiet and kept his head low.

“Hey, David,” I called out to him.

He looked up and gave me a slight smile. I could see his red eyes and a split lip, but I said nothing. The others were quiet too. Seeing him like this had become almost a norm for us. Ever since his mom ran off, his dad did nothing but drink and blamed David for everything.

He greeted us all with a brief nod but said nothing.

“Since everyone’s here now, I’ve got some important news on lizard man!”

The enthusiasm of my friends remained within limits. It was only Gabriel who seemed to be happy to hear about lizard man and he was always happy about anything we did. Samuel had folded his arms and rolled his eyes. Fat Tom shrugged and David kept his head low and was busy kicking tiny stones away.

I frowned as I stared at my friends.

“Well guys, I did some research, and it looks like I found some information on lizard man and where-“

“Liar! You talked to Andrés about it,” chimed in Samuel.

“Be quiet!” I retorted.

I’d lost my momentum and had already half-forgotten the brief speech I’d prepared.

“Eh yeah, so, lizard man’s down in the old sewers,” I finished more or less annoyed.

“Are we going down there to find him?” Gabriel burst out looking at me with a bright smile on his face.

“You betcha,” I answered, giving him a thumbs up.

“Wait, you didn’t tell me he was down in the old sewers!” Samuel burst out in surprise.

“You didn’t let me finish when I was about to tell you.”

“Never mind that, but I’m coming along. I’d always wanted to go down there!” he finally said nodding at me.

“I’m coming along too,” Fat Tom said.

The only one left was David.

“David, are you coming as well?”

He looked up for a moment and mumbled a “Yeah,” before he kicked yet another stone away.

We didn’t enter the old sewers that day. Instead, we strategized our approach for this grand adventure.

We agreed that the best day for ‘operation lizard man’ was Saturday. That way we’d have the entire day to explore the old sewers.

For the rest of the week, we made up scenarios about lizard man, talked about the sewers, and gathered supplies. I spent hours at the old garbage dump, searching for anything that might come in handy. There wasn’t much, but I was lucky enough to find an old, still functioning flashlight, and a used pair of rubber boots.

When Saturday arrived, I rushed out right after breakfast. My mom cursed after me, but I was gone too fast before she had the chance of catching me. As she yelled after me I hurried away to our secret meeting place where I’d hidden all my supplies. There were the rubber boots and the flashlight, a self-made rain cape, my backpack filled with drinks and snacks, and a large stick.

The rest of my friends arrived one after another. Each one of them had prepared similarly.

Looking back, we were a rag-tag band with an assortment of tools and weapons that were almost completely useless.

During our preparations, we’d found a hidden entrance at the edge of the old industrial area. It was a small overgrown side-tunnel, and we hurried there as fast as possible. If our parents found out what we were up to, we’d be in a lot of trouble.

A few people gave us odd stares as we hurried past them, but they mostly ignored us. Between the other, weird characters that gathered in our neighborhood a bunch of kids like us didn’t stick out too much.

As soon as we’d reached the entrance, we made sure no one was around. Then we descended.

The smell that hit us was almost unbearable. It was a mixture of the rotten smell of stagnant water and old, chemical residue.

“Smells like your room, Tom,” Samuel joked as we entered.

“Yeah, or your mom’s you know what,” Tom retorted.

We all laughed.

“You guys, do you think we’ll actually see him?” Gabriel asked, not able to hide the excitement in his voice.

“If he’s down here, I’m sure we will,” I told him similarly excited.

As we ventured down into the tunnel, we were all cracking jokes, but when darkness engulfed us we grew quieter. The place was creepy, and we were almost in complete darkness. All we had to illuminate the place was the old flashlight I’d found. The noises of rodents were all around us and here and there we saw them scurry away. At one point the beam of the flashlight illuminated a giant muskrat. We all froze, afraid it would attack us. To our relief, it only watched us curiously for a moment before it squeaked and rushed off.

Looking back it’s hard to believe how ill-prepared we were after an entire week of preparation. We brought nothing to mark our way, hadn’t bothered to get our hands on a map, and had no idea where we were even going.

I guess we weren’t the smartest bunch.

We’d been down there for about half an hour when we made our first discovery.

In a side-tunnel, we discovered a small dirty tent propped up against the wall. There was a fireplace nearby and an assortment of tools and other things.

“We found something!” Gabriel exclaimed and his voice echoed through the tunnels.

“Be quiet dumbass,” Samuel shushed him. “We don’t know if anyone’s around.”

“Do you guys think this is lizard man’s home?” I asked in a whisper.

“Could be,” David said in a quiet voice.

“Look, guys, boobies!” Fat Tom exclaimed, holding up a pornographic magazine he’d found next to the fireplace. Gabriel joined him and the two of them oohed and aahed as they went through the pages.

I looked around and used my flashlight to illuminate the surrounding area.

“Hey Felipe, come over here, do you think lizard man’s a scientist?” Samuel called out to me and waved me over.

What he’d found was a workbench. Various glasses, bowls, and tools cluttered the top and a stack of containers stood next to it. It reminded me of the chemistry lab at school.

“I don’t know, it looks weird,” I whispered to him.

“Hey guys, look at that,” I heard David from behind us.

He’d crawled into the tent to have a look at the stuff inside.

Most of what I saw were dirty clothes, an old sleeping bag and empty bottles of beer. David however had found something else. It was a plastic bag containing some white powder.

“There’s more of those over here, look,” he said.

“No way that looks like the stuff my brother sells,” Samuel said.

Samuel’s brother was older than us, almost twenty and he earned most of his money selling drugs.

Looking back, I don’t know what exactly we found, but I am damned sure it was drugs.

“Give it to me,” Samuel said and ripped the bag from David to have a better look.

While the two of them continued to go through the tent, I wondered if this was really lizard man’s home. I pointed the flashlight here and there, afraid he’d jump us any moment.

Suddenly the sound of a conversation reached me. Whoever was talking though, was still too far away to make out anything.

I darted the beam of the flashlight around and soon illuminated two scraggy guys in dirty clothes. One of them was smoking a cigarette the other was holding a bottle of beer.

The moment they saw me, their conversation ended and their eyes grew wide. A second later their faces grew dark with anger.

“The fuck are you doing here you little shit?” the one with the cigarette screamed at me.

Oh shit, this wasn’t lizard man’s home, it was theirs.

Gabriel and Tom jumped to their feet in an instant and a moment later Samuel and David joined us. Samuel was still holding the strange plastic bag, oblivious to what was going on.

The moment the two guys saw it, they went wild.

“You’ve got to be freaking kidding me!” they screamed up and came towards us.

“Run,” I yelled at my friends and with that, we all hurried back to the main tunnel we’d come from.

“Come back here, you little fuckers!” one of the men screamed after us. Soon his footsteps followed us down the tunnel, as well as the worst series of profanities I’d ever heard in my entire life.

I glanced back only once and in the flashlight’s beam, I saw the guy coming after us. Rage distorted his face, and he was holding a knife in his hand.

We ran as fast as we could, going left and right haphazardly, trying desperately to throw him off, but he didn’t seem to give up.

We were all out of it screaming, crying not even understanding why this guy was coming after us like this.

My heart was beating against my chest, my lungs stung and I felt my legs growing weaker as I continued.

At one point I almost tripped, stumbled forward, and was sure that was it. I cringed, darted around the beam of the flashlight, but at that moment I saw that there was no one behind us anymore. I don’t know if we shook him off or if he’d given up.

Relieved and exhausted I collapsed on the floor.

“Felipe, come on!” Samuel called out to me, but when he saw that we were alone he stopped as well.

Once I’d caught my breath, I held up the flashlight and counted my friends. They were all there. I could see Fat Tom lying on the wet floor, panting. Gabriel was leaning against a wall steadying himself and I could see David, crying nearby.

We were all terrified and utterly exhausted. For a moment I listened, half-expecting to hear the guy’s angry screams nearby. The only sounds I heard though was our ragged breaths and the same sounds of rodents we’d heard before.

“I wanna go home,” David mumbled to himself, sniffing.

I could see Fat Tom, pushing himself to his feet, hands on his knees, huffing and puffing. It was Samuel who finally spoke up.

“So, how do we get out of here? Felipe?”

“I think, maybe,” I started but broke off. I had no clue where the hell we were. We’d run so far and for so long, we could be anywhere in the old sewers by now.

“I don’t know where we are,” I admitted.

The rest had gotten closer by now and they all scanned the surrounding area.

“I want to leave,” David repeated.

“We all want, idiot,” Fat Tom snapped at him.

“But what about lizard man, guys?” Gabriel asked suddenly.

We all turned to him wide-eyed.

“Are you stupid?” Samuel asked, stepping up to him.

“We almost got killed, Gabriel!” I called out.

“That guy, what if he comes back?” Fat Tom asked, looking over his shoulder at the dark tunnel behind us.

Gabriel’s smile vanished as if he only now realized the seriousness of the situation.

“Yeah, all right, I guess,” he mumbled while staring at his feet.

No one made small-talk or chit-chat anymore as we searched for an exit. We all walked, huddled together, listening to every sound around us. None of us cared about lizard man anymore. We all wanted to get out of here, even Gabriel.

I told myself we should’ve never come down here and Andrés had most likely played a trick on me. Maybe he even knew about those guys we’d run into down here. I had to force myself to not start crying.

We’d walked for what seemed like hours and after a while, I realized that the tunnels we were in seemed a little different. The tunnels we walked through seemed even older. More than once did we end up at a dead-end where part of the tunnels had collapsed. By now it felt almost as if we were wandering through a labyrinth. I could hear not only David but also Fat Tom sobbing and sniffing behind us. I too was closed to tears and the thought of being lost down here forever scared me beyond anything.

As we kept walking from one tunnel to the next, I illuminated the area all around us. I was trying to find side-tunnels and different directions we’d not tried yet.

That’s when I noticed him. To this day I still remember every last detail of him. It was a humanoid figure, covered in rags that looked straight into our direction. I gasped and at first, I thought it was the madman who’d chased us before. Then I noticed all the terrifying differences.

The entire face was wrong. It was too wide, and the skin looked almost like leather or scales. The hands of the creature ended in long claws and the arms looked twisted. I gasped, opened my mouth, but my voice didn’t function. My friends turned towards me and all I could do was point into at the creature with a shaking arm.

At that point, the creature took a step towards us and I could already see it reaching out for us with its clawed hands.

My friends turned around and I could see their eyes grow wide.

“Lizard man!” Gabriel screamed up.

We almost tumbled over one another as we ran.

Most of what happened afterward is a blur. We’d been exhausted from running away before and what must’ve been hours of searching for an exit.

As we ran, we heard lizard man’s heavy footsteps behind us and every once in a while the creature screeched after us in his inhuman voice. I have no idea how we outran the creature, as exhausted as we were. More than once we barely avoided its clutches. It seemed almost as if the creature was herding us somewhere, driving us straight to his ghastly lair.

Then, I saw it. There was daylight coming from somewhere right ahead of us.

“This way!” I yelled at my friends and rushed on.

It was an old sewer exit pipe, leading to the bank of a small river near the industrial area.

I threw myself forward, jumped from the edge, and stumbled a few steps before I collapsed on the riverbank. My friends tumbled from the exit only seconds later. I expected lizard man to jump from the tunnel after us, screeching and screaming, to drag us back inside. Instead, all was quiet.

As I lay there in the grass, I realized something. There were only four of us. Gabriel was missing.

We called out for him repeatedly, but there was no trace of him. We considered going back inside to search for him, but we were all too scared.

Eventually, we started on our way back.

“You think lizard man took him?” Samuel spoke up after a lengthy period of silence.

When I didn’t answer he poked me with his elbow. “Oi, Felipe!”

“I don’t know,” I mumbled, but deep down I thought that was what had happened.

“Maybe he ran into a different direction,” David added.

“Yeah, I’m sure he’s fine,” Fat Tom started.

“How do you know, fatass?” Samuel cut him off.

“For all we know,” he continued, “he’s already been eaten. We should’ve never gone down there!”

“I know,” I said feeling down. “I just thought,” I started but didn’t know how to continue.

It was me who’d come up with this whole idea about tracing down lizard man. In my excitement I’d never thought about how dangerous it all was.

When we made it back to our neighborhood we stopped, all staring at each other.

“What are we gonna do now?” Fat Tom asked.

No one said a thing.

“Shouldn’t we go tell someone?” I asked.

“No one will believe us anyway,” Samuel said shaking his head.

With that we all returned home, not saying another thing. We all hoped Gabriel would turn up in an hour or two, smiling as he always did and telling everyone about lizard man and our adventure.

As the hours passed, I realized that Gabriel wouldn’t return. When the sun set his parents asked around if anyone had seen him. It wasn’t long before someone remembered seeing us with him in the early morning. When they confronted us, we told everyone what had happened.

At first, we only told them we’d gotten lost in the old sewers but soon enough we told them everything else.

Gabriel’s parents went to the police right away. Not long after an officer arrived and asked me and my friends a handful of questions. He didn’t seem to take the entire thing serious. Before long he told Gabriel’s parents that he’d turn up, eventually.

As the days passed, however, Gabriel stayed missing. Soon his family and many of the neighbors started protesting and screaming at the police to do something. That’s when they agreed to search the old sewers. It was a halfhearted effort. Only a few officers went down, and it took them days before they found Gabriel.

He was alive but in a terrible state. He was malnourished, dehydrated, and suffered from a terrible fever.

The worst was his mental state. He was out of it and tried his hardest to get away from the police when they found him. When they brought him up, he didn’t say a thing and didn’t even recognize his parents.

At first, they thought it was because he’d been lost in the tunnels for so long, but a check-up at the hospital revealed a different story. Gabriel’s body was covered in bruises and signs of abuse, both physical and sexual.

After the check-up, Gabriel was transferred to the mental ward of the hospital and never left it again. He was paranoid, suffered from severe trauma, and hallucinations. He was never the same again and in the few times I went to visit him, his face was empty of all emotions. There was no hint anymore of his ever-bright smile.

The entire case was swept under the carpet. It never even made the news. The police ended up talking to some people, but it was clear they didn’t care about our neighborhood.

A week later they blamed the entire thing on some homeless guy who lived in the old industrial area. They said he’d kidnapped Gabriel while we were down in the tunnels and abused him for an entire week. There was no trial, instead, they just locked him up and with that, the case was done.

I don’t know if it was the guy who’d chased us, but it wasn’t lizard man.

No one believed us when we told them about lizard man. The adults shrugged it off, saying it was nothing but a flight of imagination, while the kids and teenagers called us liars.

The thing is though, I know what I saw. I still remember the creature’s leathery skin and his clawed hands. I’ve seen it so many times in my dreams, I can’t believe that it was nothing but a figment of my imagination.

For the past decade, this is where the story ended. In the past week though, a lot of things happened, things that changed everything.

Two weeks ago Gabriel killed himself.

Over the years at the mental ward, he’d multiple suicide attempts. It was his last one that unfortunately succeeded.

By the time it happened, I hadn’t been living in my old neighborhood for several years.

I was one of the few lucky kids who had received a scholarship because of my outstanding academic performance. It allowed me to enroll in college and to leave my home behind. I never looked back.

It was mom who called me out of the blue and told me that my old childhood friend Gabriel had killed himself.

It might sound harsh, but considering his condition, I always knew it was only a matter of time until something like this would happen.

Still, as much as I told myself this, it didn’t help one bit.

I decided instantly to make the lengthy trip back home and attend the funeral. I owed him at least that much. In the years that followed our descent, I’d often blamed myself for what happened back then. If not for my stupid obsession with an urban legend, he’d still be alive.

The funeral wasn’t big. The only people attending were his parents and a few relatives. None of them gave me much attention, and they probably didn’t even recognize me.

Other than me two other young men attended the funeral. Both of them seemed as lost there as I was.

One was an awkward young man, wearing a cheap, ill-fitting suit. He was nervous and seemed fidgety. When he smiled at me shyly, his head hanging low, I recognized him.

“David?” I asked as I walked over to him.

He stared at me before he too recognized me and extended a hand to greet me.

“Felipe,” he exclaimed, slurring part of it so it came out more like a “Feip.”

I could tell right away he was far from sober.

The other guy watched us from afar. He was a young muscular man, who carried himself pretty confidently. When he made his way over towards us, I finally recognized him. My jaw dropped. It was Fat Tom, but he wasn’t fat at all anymore.

“Tomás? Is that you? Holy shit, what happened to you?” I greeted him and gave him a big hug.

“Felipe. Good to see you. How long’s it been?”

“Too long,” I answered, smiling.

He nodded and for a moment his eyes wandered to the grave.

“Not the nicest reunion.”

David and I both agreed.

“How about some drinks?” Tomás asked.

After we’d given our condolences to Gabriel’s parents Tomás led us to a small local bar not too far from our old neighborhood. Tomás greeted the owner and the man instantly prepared a beer for each of us.

After a toast, we started to chit-chat about how life was treating us. I found out that David’s father had drunk himself to death when David was fifteen years old. After that David gave up on school and started to work at one of the local factories.

I watched with a sullen look at how he greedily gulped down his beer but said nothing.

We also gave in to nostalgia for a bit and talked about the times when our little group had been inseparable. It all changed after what happened to Gabriel. We all stayed friends, but it was a reluctant friendship and over the years we slowly drifted apart.

When I asked them about Samuel, their faces turned sour. As he grew older and after I moved away, he hung out with Andrés and his group. He gave up on school and followed into his brother’s footsteps. The two of them talked to him occasionally, but then, one day, he was just gone.

No one knows what happened to him, and they both told me he probably moved on. I nodded, but I knew you don’t just move on in a neighborhood like ours.

We were all quiet for a bit and after I’d taken another sip of my beer, I couldn’t help but stare at Tomás again.

I couldn’t believe how much he’d changed. In my memory, he was still the fat kid in our group, and here he was, in much better shape than me.

“Something the matter?” he asked with a grin on his face.

“It’s just that,” I started but couldn’t find the right words to finish.

“That little Fat Tom isn’t fat anymore?”

I smiled at him and nodded.

“Can’t use that nickname anymore,” he added.

All three of us laughed.

“Terrible what happened to Gabriel,” David suddenly said and brought us back to reality and why we were all here.

“Yeah,” I said. “They should have done so much more back then,” I continued.

“Like What?” Tomás asked.

“Well the damned cops could’ve sent more people down there, could’ve looked into the whole thing.”

Tomás laughed a little.

“Felipe, none of the cops here give a shit about a kid going missing,” he said and took another sip of his beer before he continued.

“Everybody knew the entire thing was bullshit. The perpetrator, the way they handled it, and what they said had happened.”

“True,” David said nodding.

“I wonder what we saw that day,” I thought out loud.

“You mean that thing that chased us?” Tomás asked.

I nodded. “Yeah, lizard man.”

Tomás laughed.

“You’re still using that name, Felipe?”

“Well, what else should I call it?”

He shrugged. “No clue.”

At this point, David got up from his seat. He quickly downed the rest of his beer before he looked at us with an awkward smile.

“Well, sorry guys, but,” he slurred looking at the clock, “the wife’s gonna be mad if I’m not home and-“

“It’s fine David,” I said. Tomas nodded.

We both gave him a hug that he awkwardly returned. He gave us another nod before he made his way to the door. We could both see he wasn’t able to walk in a straight line anymore. Neither of us said a word. It wasn’t ours to judge him.

After we’d gotten ourselves another beer, Tomás told me that Gabriel’s story wasn’t that uncommon. Many cases are never solved and are swept under the carpet.

“How’d you know-“ I started but was cut off when he put a police badge on the table.

For a moment I was even more surprised and stared at him with wide eyes.

“Guess no one expected Fat Tom to join the force, right?” he said with an even bigger grin.

“Hey, I didn’t mean what I said before, you know.”

He waved his hand, showing me it was fine.

“Don’t worry about it. You weren’t wrong.”

“How’d you end up becoming a cop?”

I never remembered him talking about it. He’d always talked about becoming a baker, a chef, or a restaurant owner, anything related to food.

“Well, after the entire thing with Gabriel, I couldn’t help but blame myself, you know Felipe?”

I nodded in agreement. I had my own, inner demons because of it.

“I couldn’t forget about it and go on living as if it never happened, or move away as you did.”

His tone had become more reproachful, but I shrugged it off. He had a point.

“I wanted to do something, you know?” he pressed out.

“Yeah, I get what you mean.”

For a moment he eyed me, to see if I was just saying it, but then he nodded.

“Tell you what, I think they never got the guy who did it. As I said, it was all bullshit. Recently another adolescent girl was found, no older than fourteen. The same happened to her. Dragged off into those tunnels, abused and brutally raped. Only for her, it was too late.”

I stayed quiet, but I could see that Tomás was getting angry.

“It happens all the fucking time, but no one gives a shit. They all suffer,” he broke up, shook his head, and ordered himself another beer.

Time went on. We kept talking and as it got late beer was replaced by shots.

I don’t remember how we came up with the idea, but we made plans to go down into the sewers to find lizard man again.

When I woke up the next morning my head was pounding and I felt like total shit. I didn’t even remember how I’d made it back to my parent’s place but was relieved that I still had all my belongings with me.

After I’d flushed down a couple of pain killers, the pounding in my head subsided.

I’d barely made myself some coffee when my phone rang. It was an unknown number, but when I answered it I heard a familiar voice.

“Is the plan still up, Felipe?”

It took me a few moments to realize that the voice belonged to Tomás and a few more to remember what we’d been talking about.

I heard the determination in his voice and finally, my curiosity got the better of me.

“Yeah, I’m in,” I heard myself say.

We met up soon after at our old meeting place. It felt nostalgic to be back there. As I scanned the area, I could almost see my friends in front of me.

I was surprised when I saw a police car pull in and more so when Tomás waved me over.

Together the two of us set out to the pipe exit at the riverbank.

I felt a shiver running down my spine when I saw it.

This time we came prepared. Tomás had gotten his hands on a map of the old sewers, two police flashlights, and a handful of other things, including a gun.

As we stood in front of the entry, he handed me a flashlight and made eye contact with me. For a moment I wasn’t so sure anymore, but then I thought about Gabriel and nodded.

The smell hit us right away. It was far worse than I remembered.

“Jesus,” I cursed and put my hand over my nose.

Tomás walked in front of me, completely unfazed by it.

“How can you just… with this smell?”

“I’ve smelled worse,” he answered shrugging.

I didn’t ask what he meant. Ever since I’d moved away, I’d heard all the horror stories about my neighborhood. Stories about rape and murder, poverty and prostitution as well as child crime. I guess, when you’re growing up in the middle of it, you don’t see things for what they really are.

As we venture deeper into the older sewers, a sense of Déjà vu washed over me. The daylight grew weaker and weaker before it vanished completely. I felt the hair on my arms stand up as we turned on our flashlights.

Step by step the memory of over a decade ago came back to me. It’s surprising how deep certain images can be buried inside of your mind.

Tomás showed me the map and pointed at a specific area.

“That’s where we’re at right now. It’s the first couple of tunnels they dug out in the day. If that bastard lived here back then, chances are he’s still around now.”

As we made our way through the tunnels, the sound of our footsteps echoed through the darkness ahead of us. The only other sound was the familiar noise of rodents. They were always close by, but we saw none of them. It felt almost like I was eleven years old again, as I hurried after Tomás.

We’d been down there for almost two hours when Tomás cursed.

“Fucking hell. There’s no hint of anything.”

“What if we continue over there?”

He turned to look at me.

“We’ve been through the entire sewers twice already.”

“Wait, are you serious?”

He nodded and held up the map that was now covered in dots and marks.

“Marked every little turn and dead-end. Twice.”

“So, that’s it then?”

Tomás spit on the ground. He illuminated the area around us one last time before he nodded.

“Guess I should’ve known better,” he mumbled to himself.

On our way back, I started doing the same thing he’d done. I illuminated every nook and cranny of the surrounding area.

At one point I noticed a small ditch to our right where the water was dripping down somewhere.

“What’s that?” I asked and put my hand on Tomás shoulder. The moment he saw it he hurried over.

I’d thought it was nothing more than a small hole, but it turned out to be some sort of tunnel. When we illuminated it, we saw that there was a passageway.

Tomás checked the map to see if there’d been a tunnel here once that had collapsed but he couldn’t find anything on the map.

“Might be nothing,” he started, but I nodded right away. I knew what he was about to say.

We almost had to crouch as we followed the small tunnel downwards.

It soon grew wider, and we realized we were in a natural cave. I carefully took one step at a time and listened to the surrounding sounds.

“What in the,” I started, but Tomás turned around and put a finger over his mouth. Then he walked into the darkness ahead of me.

It wasn’t long before we found the first signs of human activity. There were some old clothes here, a fireplace there, and I even saw some old, dirty books on the ground next to it.

As we illuminated the surrounding area, we soon discovered a tent propped up against one of the cave’s walls. Next to it, we found stacks of food, much of it still in edible condition.

Tomás nodded at me and got his gun out. Someone was living down here and I knew he wouldn’t take any chances. He moved his flashlight around, carefully scanning the area.

When he illuminated a figure standing ahead of me, I gasped. I recognized the skin and the clawed hands instantly.

“Don’t move,” Tomás yelled at the figure, pointing his gun at it.

To my surprise, I saw it nod and raise his hands. I was completely perplexed. I recognized every detail about lizard man and a ‘holy shit’ escaped my mouth.

Once I got a closer look though, I noticed the hanging shoulders, the deep wrinkles, and the bushes of grey hair that sprouted from the head. Tired eyes stared at us and looked first at Tomás, then at me and then back to Tomás and the gun in his hand. Suddenly I heard a voice.

“You can put the gun down, boy, you’re not in danger.”

I jerked the flashlight around, trying to find the speaker. Then it hit me, the voice was coming from lizard man himself.

“What did you say?” Tomás asked, turning to me for a moment. I didn’t get to give him an answer because right at this moment lizard man spoke up again.

“Not going to do anything to you, boys?”

“The fuck you are, freak?” Tomás asked.

The creature in front of us laughed, at least if you can call it that. It was a sickly, thin sound that reminded you more of a whistle.

“You’re right, I’m exactly that, a freak,” he went on. “Still a human being though, even if it’s hard to believe, looking like this.”

“Why the hell are you looking like that?” I burst out.

Lizard man explained that he was suffering from a rare skin condition. It starts as a rash, but soon it transforms your skin into something resembling leather or scales. I couldn’t believe it. The creature I’d thought of as lizard man for so long, was a human being, just like us.

Tomás mumbled something before he lowered his gun, but kept it in his hand, at the ready. The weird old man in front of us seemed to relax a bit.

I’m not sure how much of his story was true, but he went on to tell us how he was ostracized by society.

“Used to be normal. Looked just like you, had a job, friends, a family, a home, all that. Once this started though,” he pointed at his face.

“Got kicked out of work, said I was contagious. After that things went down quickly. Friends ignored me, found no other job, and lost my home. That’s how I ended up in the streets, but that made it even worse. Got beaten up, was regarded as a monster. Called me leather face, lizard man and god knows what else.”

I felt sorry for the old man standing in front of us.

“Was in my forties when I went down here. Had enough of everyone up there and no desire to go back anymore. Must’ve been down here a good twenty years by now. More than enough time to get used to this life,” he said laughing.

“How do you know how long it’s been?” Tomás asked.

“Well boy, can’t get food down here. Have to get up every once in a while. There are newspapers in the trash and at the garbage dump.”

“Why don’t you go back up? By now there’s probably a cure. You could-“

He raised a hand to stop me.

“There’s nothing up there for me anymore. No friends, no family, nothing. Most important though,” he began and I could see his face turn sad. “There’s no compassion up there.”

He shook his head.

“Down here, at least I’m all by myself.”

Tomás had gotten impatient, and he’d given me a few angry side-glances as I kept talking to the old man. As soon as he finished this time, it was Tomás who spoke up.

“All right old man, I’ve got a few questions for you.”

Lizard man gave him a questioning look.

“There were five of us, eleven years old. We came down here one day, about a decade ago, saw you and one of our friends got lost… or was taken.”

Instead of answering lizard man laughed.

“I might live alone down here boy, but you’d surprised how many people come down here. There’s no way I’d remember all of them.”

At first, I thought that was all he was about to say, but then something seemed to come to his mind.

“A decade ago, you said? Back then, it wasn’t just me who was down here. There was this group of other guys. Sure they looked the part, but they weren’t homeless. They were here for an entirely different reason.”

“Drugs,” Tomás whispered knowingly. “Common thing back in the day. No one cared about a few crazed hobos living down here.”

Lizard man nodded.

“Used to be a dangerous place down here, boy.”

“I’m sure you’d remember a group of kids,” Tomás started and as he continued, his voice became strained. “Especially if you chased them.”

“Never chased no one, boy. Most who see me run away. Surprised you two didn’t do the same thing,” he defended himself.

“What happened to our friend, old man?” Tomás asked, starting to get angry. “He got lost down here, right after we ran away from you, as you call it.”

The old man’s eyes grew wide. “Don’t tell me,” he started.

I looked up.

“So you were THAT group,” he said to himself.

“What are you talking about?” I cut in and landed another angry glance from Tomás.

“Still remember it, was in the tunnels, planning to get some food. Noticed that those drug guys were searching for someone. Ran into you kids later and knew they were after you. Wanted to warn you, tell you to get out, but you ran away. Couldn’t blame you. Tried to calm you down, to help you, called out to you, but you wouldn’t listen. Tried my best to drive you to the exit, but then one of you rushed off into one of the side-tunnels.”

“And what did you do to him?” Tomás asked, raising his gun once more.

“Couldn’t do a damn thing. Ran after him, but he was too fast and before you know it, he stumbled right into them.”

I spoke up and told lizard man what had happened to Gabriel and why we’d come down here. He shook his head and then looked straight at me.

“Is that the world you want me to go back to, boy? One in which kids are abused and mutilated?”

After a while, I couldn’t look at him anymore.

It was at this point that Tomás had wandered off and had a look at lizard man’s belongings. He rummaged through the heap of clothes before he pulled something out from it.

“Care to tell me what those are, old man?”

At first, I didn’t understand what Tomás was doing, but then he illuminated a piece of woman’s underwear.”

“What do you think those are, boy? Its rags, things I found at the garbage dump, and took down here.”

Tomás pointed his gun at the man. I remembered what he’d told me last night, about the adolescent girl who’d been raped and killed. He gave the old man a hard look.

I’d expected lizard man to be scared or to make excuses. Instead, he laughed again.

“Of course it’s me, right? Who else but lizard man could’ve done it? Crawled from the sewers in the middle of the night and dragged the girl down here.”

Tomás didn’t say a thing but kept his gun pointed at him.

“Don’t make a fool of yourself, boy! Those there are woman’s things, right? You think I did something to a woman?”

He laughed once more.

“Couldn’t have been me. Want to see the proof? Want to see it?”

The old man was angry now and a second later he pushed one of his hands below the rags covering his body. At this moment Tomás pulled the trigger.

I was standing there in complete and utter shock, pressing my hands to my ears as the sound of the gunshot reverberated through the cave.

“Why’d you do that?” I screamed at Tomás over the ringing in my ears. It took some time until I could understand his words.

“He might have had a gun.”

I stared over at lizard man and then stepped up to his body. For a moment the thought he might be an actual monster and would come back to life crossed my mind. Nothing like that happened. The old man was dead.

I illuminated the body with the flashlight, trying to see if he’d been carrying a gun. Only when I moved the rags aside, did I realize what he’d wanted to show us. It was his crotch. The entire area was nothing but overgrown scar tissue, leathery skin, and scales.

“Holy fucking shit,” I pressed out.

I turned to Tomás.

“There’s no way he could’ve raped the girl,” I called out to him.

That’s when the full irony of the name lizard man hit me. The man we’d called that for all those years didn’t even have a tail.

“You didn’t know, it’s not your fault,” I said as Tomás walked up to me. He said nothing. Instead, he shrugged and turned away.

“Whatever, no one needs to know about that.”

“Wait, what do you mean?”

“All that people need to know is that he did the girl so we can close the damned case.”

I stared at him. My mouth opened, but then I closed it again. There wasn’t a single thing I could say to that.

We left the sewers soon after. The moment we were out Tomás called the station and informed them he’d found the suspect. Me, I simply walked away without saying so much as a word to him.

There was never an article about the case or lizard man. The entire thing was swept under the carpet. It was the same as what happened with Gabriel’s case back then. If I wouldn’t have met up with Tomás, I’d never even heard about the case or that it was now closed.

That same night, when I couldn’t sleep, I sat at the window of my old room and stared at my old neighborhood. I couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened today.

Finally, I got out my phone and dialed Tomás number.

“What do you want, Felipe? It’s late.”

“The fuck was that today?”

I heard him sigh, but he gave me no answer.

“I know the truth, Tomás. The old guy was innocent.”

Once more he said nothing.

“What if I come down to the station tomorrow, Tomás?” I confronted him.

“And then what?” he finally asked.

“So we can reopen the case? So the parents know that the guy who did that to their little girl is still out there? So we can continue to search for someone we won’t find? No one gives a shit about the case, anyway. Not the girl, not her parents, not lizard man. If you go to the station tomorrow, you know what they’ll do? Not a damn thing, that’s what! What the hell do you even know?”

“I know that you shot an-“ I started, but Tomás cut me off right away.

“You don’t know a damn thing, Felipe! No one gives a shit here!”

Then his rage went away, and I heard him continue in a quivering voice.

“You have to realize, Felipe. No one gives a shit about any of this, not the people, not the case. Not one. Not here.”

With that, he hung up, and the phone was quiet.

I told myself to go to the station and tell them the truth about what Tomás had done. But I never went.

It wasn’t because I had my doubts about lizard man’s story. It wasn’t because of what Tomás had told me.

No, it was the way his voice had sounded, quivering, broken, defeated, and because I knew why he hung up so quickly.

The Case of the Bassinet Children

As kids, we often miss the obvious. It is only as adults that we catch on to certain events in our childhood. It was the same for me during a specific summer vacation in my childhood. Only now do I realize what happened back then.

Mind you this whole story took place in Germany more than a decade ago. I am doing my best to translate the events into English.

At the time of this story, I was twelve years old. I was a city kid, but my parents would spend the summer at their holiday home.

It was not as fancy as it might sound. It wasn’t much more than a small cabin, located near town. I loved the wild plains, the forests, the farms and many other rural things.

At times I played soccer or other games with the local kids, at others I went on little adventures. What I enjoyed the most, was to ride my bike for hours on end. I’d often follow the many dirt roads and paths that led here and there to see where I’d end up.

One day, during another long bike ride, I met a friendly old couple.

They seemed to be hiking along the dirt road in my direction. As soon as the old woman noticed me, she gave me a warm greeting. They reminded me of my grandparents, so I smiled and waved to them.

When I had passed them and was going to ride on, the old woman called out to me.

“Oh my, you can’t go any further little boy,” she started, “you’ll end up in the swamps. Better turn around.”

I looked ahead and could already see that the dirt road seemed to become muddy. I nodded towards the old lady and thanked her for the warning.

I turned my bike around, drove back towards them and soon enough ended up talking with them for a bit.

They’d been hiking and berry-picking in the area nearby and were on their way back home. Their house was out here, near the edge of the forest and not too far ahead. They said they preferred it out here, away from the bustle of town.

When they asked me about myself, I told too them where I was from and that I was only here on vacation for some weeks.

It wasn’t long before we arrived at a big old house, nestled perfectly into the trees that made up the edge of the forest.

As we continued on, the old lady asked me if I’d come with them and if I wanted something to drink or maybe a snack.

I thanked her but shook my head. The sun would be setting soon. If I’d be late again, I’d be in trouble with my mom.

When I got home, my parents were already waiting for me to get dinner ready. I don’t know why, but I never told them about the old couple I met, or I just forgot to mention them.

It was a few days later that I found myself on the same dirt road as before. I hesitated for a moment, but then I thought I might as well pay them a visit.

As I approached the house, I saw that they were sitting outside in a Hollywood swing. I waved and greeted them.

As soon as she recognized me the old lady was ecstatic to see me, got up and walked towards me.

“My oh my, guess who has come back, Herbert!” she exclaimed to her husband who hadn’t moved from the swing.

“What brings you back here to us boring old folks?” he asked me laughing.

I was a little shy as a kid. So when they both spoke to me so openly, I couldn’t help but cast my eyes down. I answered in a quiet voice that I was nearby and thought it was the proper thing to say hello.

“Now aren’t you a well-mannered young boy.” the old lady said, giving me a bright smile.

“Now then, you want to sit down for a bit, boy?” Herbert asked me and motioned towards the now empty spot on the swing.

After leaning my bike against a tree, I went over and sat down right next to him. His wife, whose name was Elsa, watched us for a bit. Then nodding and beaming, she went inside.

It wasn’t long before my small talk with Herbert turned to birds and forest animals. It had been a life-long interest of his ever since he was a little boy. After some time he asked me if I had ever seen any forest animals for real, like a badger, a deer, a fox, or even just a rabbit. I guess he remembered I was from the city.

I told him that I had, but only from afar or in one of the animal parks.

Herbert laughed and said I was in for a treat. With that, he got up and motioned for me to come along.

He led me into the house, up the stairs and opened the door to a big room. As I stepped inside after him, my eyes grew wide. The room was filled with all sorts of forest animals and birds. For a moment I cringed back, but soon I noticed that none of them were moving.

Herbert explained that I needn’t be afraid. Those were all stuffed, or better, preserved animals. In younger years he had earned a living by doing this thing. He had been a taxidermist.

I remember that it felt a little weird to stay in a room, surrounded by all these dead animals. Herbert let me look around for a moment and then started to tell me a bit about each of the different animals. Soon enough my uneasiness at their sight vanished as I listened to his explanations.

We’d gone through almost all the animals when the old man and I heard Elsa call out from downstairs. I could see how Herbert’s expression changed and grew dark for a moment.

“Well, better look what she did this time. Shouldn’t take too long.”

With that, he went out the door.

I looked around some more and here and there touched the preserved animals and their fur. If only to make sure that they really weren’t alive.

Most imposing of all animals was a male deer with a huge pair of antlers on his head. At first, I only stared at the majestic animal, but soon I reached out for the antlers.

It wasn’t long before Herbert came back and saw me near the deer and told me all about this specific animal. Looking back I think that old Herbert was happy that I was so interested in his preserved animals.

In time, he led me back outside. With a laugh, he told me that we’d spend so much time up in the animal room that it was already getting late. I said goodbye to Herbert and after waving to Elsa, I was on my way back home.

That night it took me a long time to fall asleep. My thoughts and dreams revolved all around the forest animals Herbert had shown me and told me about.

The next day, right after lunch I went out with my bike and drove straight to their house again.

As I arrived, it was only Elsa who was there. She was sitting on the swing and busying herself with a bouquet of flowers. Her face lit up in an instant when she saw me and waved me over.

She told me Herbert wasn’t around and had gone on one of his solitary walks through the forest. After listening to her for a bit, I asked her with downcast eyes if I could see the preserved animals again.

“Oh, of course, you can, my dear little boy,” she answered, grabbing my hand and leading me inside.

It felt weird holding hands with her, but again I was too shy to say anything. As she led me up the stairs and into the room, she babbled on and on without end. Even after we entered the room, she kept talking about herself and how happy she was, that I was back. Finally, she asked me if I wanted to see something else.

Without even waiting for an answer, she told me with a big smile on her face that it was the old playroom of their kids. I was sure to enjoy it. A little annoyed, but also a bit curious I followed her along.

What Elsa led me to was a room that was almost as big as Herbert’s animal room.

Elsa was right, a playroom it was. There were toys everywhere. I was taken aback at the sheer number.

The room was filled to the brim with wooden blocks, puppets, dolls, teddy bears, toy cars, trains and much, much more.

“It is fine, go ahead, you can play with anything you want.”

I looked at her for a moment, then stepped into the room and looked around awkwardly. I was already twelve years old and most of the toys here seemed to be for younger kids. I couldn’t bring myself to say anything to Else though.

As I walked further into the room, she told me she’d be back in a while and I should enjoy myself for the time being.

Soon after Elsa was gone, I left the playroom too. It was so boring, I thought.

As I walked back into the direction of the animal room, I saw that one of the other doors in the hallway was slightly ajar. First only peeked inside but didn’t see anything, since it was almost pitch-black in the room. A quick glance around showed me that I was alone and so I opened the door a little more.

I was finally able to see that a variety of cribs and beds filled the room. A big black curtain covered the only window. I had never seen anyone else here, but I remembered Elsa talking about kids before. So I thought it was their old nursery.

As I stepped inside, I noticed something, or better someone sitting in one of the beds. I jumped back and almost screamed. My first thought was that someone was sleeping in one of the beds. Soon enough I realized whatever it was wasn’t moving at all.

I laughed a little as I realized my mistake. What was sitting in the bed must be a puppet or big doll. Only moments later I noticed in the half-shade of the room that there were more of them. A whole assortment of these dolls was sitting or lying in the beds and cribs all around.

Each of the cribs and beds had a nameplate put to its front end. Here was Sam, followed by Peter and Marcel, then Tom and on it went.

I moved toward the bed with the name Sam on it to have a closer look. As I touched its arm, it felt weird. The skin was almost too soft and didn’t feel like cloth.

I was a little weirded out, but soon my thoughts went from the doll to a little box sitting at the foot end of the bed. As I picked it up, I realized it was wooden. The name ‘Sam’ was written on it in fine letters, same as on the nameplate.

In the dark of the room it took me a bit, but soon I found the lid and tried opening it.

Right at that moment, I heard Elsa’s voice calling out to me from the stairs. I rushed out of the room and only when I was on my way did I realize that I was still holding the box. Not knowing what to do and hearing Elsa’s footsteps coming up the stairs, I put it in my backpack. I told myself I’d return it later.

I met up with Elsa who led me to the downstairs kitchen. She had prepared a glass of fresh lemonade and a little bowl of fruits.

“You must be thirsty, aren’t you?” she asked as she got the glass for me.

It was then that Herbert, still wearing a pair of stout hiking boots entered the room.

“Well that’s-” he started but broke up when he saw Elsa and me with the glass of lemonade. His gaze rested on me for a moment, then he went forward to Elsa with a sad expression on his face.

“Elsa, your diabetes, the doctor-” he began, but was cut off by his wife.

“Oh Herbert, no, it is for the boy, he is-“

“Elsa no. You know you can’t keep doing this. It is no good.”

With that, he went closer towards his old wife, who was still holding the glass and the bowl of snacks. She looked first at him, then at me, then at him again, before the tears started streaming from her eyes.

“It’s alright, Elsa,” he said.

I didn’t understand what was going on at all. Finally, Herbert turned to me and told me that today wasn’t a good day. I nodded and went to go, wondering what exactly had just happened and what was wrong with Elsa.

I spent the rest of the day in town with some of my local friends and soon I had completely forgotten what had happened.

In the evening, as I was getting ready for bed, my mom found the wooden box that was still in my backpack.

“Now who is this Sam?” she asked me with a little smile on her face.

“Oh no, I forgot to put it back!” I exclaimed in shock when I saw it.

Soon I found myself explaining to my mom how I had come into possession of the box. I told her about the sweet old couple I had gotten to know and where I had met them. Then I rambled on about Herbert’s preserved animals. Lastly, I told her where I had found the box.

I remembered that her face turned serious as she listened to me. Then she sent me to bed.

That night I woke up by people arguing.

As I left the small bedroom, I found my mom in tears and my dad talking to many other people. When he noticed me, he sent me back to bed right away and assured me that everything was alright.

The next day though, they told me we had to go back home.

I never found out what actually had been going on that night. To tell you the truth I had almost completely forgotten about the whole thing.

I found out the truth by accident. I was going through the library’s archive for a university project. There I stumbled upon an old newspaper clipping.

Going through year after year, something had caught my eye.

‘The Case of the Bassinet Children – Old couple found guilty in missing children case.’

The article talked about a bizarre and gruesome discovery at the home of an elderly couple. I started to skim it out of sheer boredom, but soon I read the names, Herbert and Elsa. It took a while, but then I remembered the old couple from my summer vacation. The date of the story was from about a decade ago, the same summer I had met them.

At first, I told myself it was a coincidence, but soon I couldn’t deny the truth anymore.

Through the decades, the old couple had killed at least twelve children of varying age. The police found the proof right in their house. It was the mostly preserved bodies of their twelve victims. As I read the word taxidermist, it clicked.

Right then I realized what the room I snuck in must have been. I remembered how wrong the doll had felt. I shivered as I realized where I’d been back then: In a room filled with the preserved corpses of all these children.

I called my mom soon after. At first, she vehemently feigned ignorance, but then she told me what she and my dad had found in the box that same night.

Inside they had found pieces of memorabilia and a number of photographs. At first, it was just photos of a kid outside, either alone or with a lady that must have been in her fifties. They were normal enough at first. Soon enough though, there were photos of the boy unconscious and naked. She said the rest of the pictures was too much for her.

She said they had called the police then and there. The couple was arrested that same night without any resistance. Herbert gave himself up. Elsa didn’t understand what was going on. It was attributed to her suffering from an early stage of dementia.

In a later article, I found Herbert’s testimony.

They never had children, he said. Medical issues. His wife never got over the fact.

She loved children over everything. Since she couldn’t have her own, this love soon became an obsession. Elsa would often invite kids to her house, play with them and give them snacks.

One day though she went further and drugged a little boy. He never woke up again.

Elsa pleaded to not take her baby away, to never take him off of her. Herbert said, seeing and hearing his wife like that, he knew something had to be done about the body. Shaking his head, he admitted to a thing he should never have done.

That was only the first one. Herbert knew she was sick, but there was nothing else he could do to protect her and he’d never report her.

I stopped reading there. The whole story made me too sick to continue digging into it.

There is one thing I am wondering about these days. How close was I to becoming one of these kids? How did I get away? Was I lucky? At these times I think about Herbert’s behavior and what he told his wife that afternoon.

I can’t help but think that it was all thanks to the old man that I am still alive today.

The Disappearing Alley

We all think of the world as a place grounded in logic. There’s no room for the supernatural or surreal. We tell ourselves those things only exist in stories, movies, and media.

I too used to think like that, but I was wrong. I was so damn wrong.

It all started two months ago when I moved into my new apartment. It’s located in a small apartment building at the edge of town.

Right next door was a giant, old mansion that towered over every other building in the surrounding area. There was only a small alley between my apartment building and the mansion. When I looked out my living room window, all I saw were its towering walls.

The mansion comprises a sprawling mess of different buildings all connected to a main building. In its prime, the place might have been fancy. Nowadays, after decades of neglect, it’s not much more than a run-down ruin.

Old, musty curtains hang behind many of the stained, dirty windows, but I’m sure no one lives there anymore.

When I moved into my apartment, I’d thought it would be a typical dump. It was part of my town’s social housing project and the rent was quite low. Surprisingly though, it was nice, at least for what it was.

I can imagine most people wouldn’t be too happy to live in a place like this, but I was rather content.

At thirty-four years, I could look back at years of substance abuse and one shitty relationship after another. Now, that I was clean, this fresh life of mine felt pretty good. I even found a job in the area. Sure, it was cleaning up in an old warehouse, but it was something.

Apart from mine, only two other apartments in the entire building were occupied.

There was a friendly, but reclusive older couple who lived on the second floor like me. Their apartment was down the hallway at the other end of the building.

The ground floor was vacant apart from the apartment below me. A group of younger people lived down there. They might be students, they might be unemployed. I’d heard them a few times during the night, but as long as they didn’t cause me any trouble, I didn’t care what they were up to.

This entire mess first started one morning, a few weeks after I’d moved in.

I got up and while I waited for my morning coffee, I took a glance out my living room window. There wasn’t much to see apart from the mansion’s wall. Yet, something felt a little different this morning. I wasn’t able to put my finger on it though and soon shook my head.

“You just need your coffee, Linda,” I said to myself.

A few days later though, I couldn’t blame it on a lack of coffee anymore.

There was a noticeable difference. It was much darker out there than usual.

At first, I frowned thinking my alarm went off too early, but it was six in the morning as always.

Normally the sun shined down into the alley and at least a few rays of sunshine reached my living room window. Now, it was all dark outside.

I thought it had to be the weather, maybe clouds or a storm. When I opened the window and looked upwards though, I could see the sun as clearly as always. It just didn’t reach the small alley anymore. As I wondered about it and scanned the alley, it seemed almost as if it had shrunk in size.

It was a ridiculous thought, and I was sure it was my imagination playing a trick on me. Somehow though, I could tell that the alley was different.

I put my head out, looked left and right, then down and back up. There was no doubt, the alley had been much wider before.

Unnerved I put on some clothes and went down the hallway to the old couple’s apartment. Maybe they had noticed something or could tell me what the hell was going on here. I assumed they’d been living here for much longer than me.

After a few quick knocks, the old lady opened the door.

“Good morning, dear,” she greeted me with half-open eyes. “What brings you here so early in the morning?”

I was embarrassed, realizing that I must’ve woken her up.

“Oh, eh, sorry,” I started.

I tried to find a way to ask the question that had formed in my head, but I couldn’t very well ask her if she thought the alley outside had shrunk down. Instead, I opted for a safer option.

“I was just wondering, did you or your husband notice anything strange last night? Outside in the alley maybe?”

She eyed me curiously for a moment before she shook her head.

“In the alley you say? Oh, I’m afraid not, we keep that window closed at all times. Werner even put our wardrobe right in front of it. ‘No reason to stare at those ghastly, old walls,’ he always says.”

I gave her a nervous brief laugh before I agreed with her and apologized for the early disturbance.

“Guess there’s no helping it,” I said to myself as I made my way down the stairs.

I knocked once, and then twice more before a tired looking redhead with thick glasses opened the door.

“Morning,” was all she mumbled in an annoyed, dull way. Then she stared at me, waiting for me to speak up.

“Sorry to bother you, I was wondering if you knew anything about the mansion next door.”

“Why don’t you go over there instead of annoying people this early in the morning?”

Her tone of voice had changed noticeably. The first thing that came to my mind was ‘What a fucking bitch,’ but I bit my tongue to not say it out loud.

“Well, I think something weird’s going on and maybe you guys noticed it too. It might sound weird, but-“

Right at that moment, she slammed the door in my face.

“Bitch!” I cursed.

I raised my hand and was about to pound against the door again, then I told myself to stop.

“Calm down, Linda,” I told myself. “You don’t want to be known as the crazy chick again.”

I went back upstairs to my apartment. Maybe it was all on my mind? God knows, my brain could be hazy. As I got ready for work, I did my best to ignore the window and the alley below.

As I went on my way, I wondered if the sunlight had ever truly shone inside my living room. When I walked past the alley though, I couldn’t help but take another look. My doubts came back, and I snapped a picture.

“Just to be sure it doesn’t shrink again,” I told myself, laughing a little.

From that day onward I kept the blinds to the alley closed at all times to keep my overactive imagination in check.

Soon enough I’d forgotten all about that weird morning.

It must’ve been two weeks later when I was greeted by glasses and another guy who I presumed lived with her.

“Hey there,” she started with an awkward smile on her face.

Well, well, look who can be friendly if she wants to, I thought.

“Hello,” I said.

“Some time ago, you asked me about the mansion next door, right? What was that about?”

I was reluctant, to tell the truth, so I made up a more believable story.

“I heard something at night, why?”

Glasses eyed me and it was clear that she didn’t know what to say next. At that moment the guy next to her approached me. He was tall, skinny, and awkward.

“Hi there, I’m Phil.”

He reached out his hand and after a nervous handshake, he continued.

“We noticed something strange, and we were wondering if you did too.”

“Like what?” I pressed on.

I could feel that he was as wary as glasses about the entire thing.

“Well, our friend heard noises out there, but he also said the alley… got smaller?”

I couldn’t say anything. For a moment I expected them to laugh, to reveal it was nothing but an elaborate joke. The laughter never came though.

“What do you mean by that?”

“You have to talk to Will about that,” glasses spoke up. “He’s the one who noticed it. I thought you might know something since you asked me about that mansion before. Also, I’m Jen. Sorry about last time.”

A minute later I found myself in their apartment. Five people were living there altogether. Jen was the only girl, and I wasn’t sure what to think about that.

She introduced the three other guys in the room to me. There was Will, which she’d mentioned before, the other two were Steve and Jay.

As we started talking I learned that Will was the one who’d rented the place and moved in about a month earlier than me. The rest was crashing here for a prolonged period. Jen had her own room, as did Will. The rest of the guys slept in the living room. Needless to say, it wasn’t the cleanest place. I was sure by now that these people weren’t students.

“At first I thought it was a stray, but the noise didn’t stop, you know? The tapping against the window, I mean,” Will started.

“So I checked out what the hell it was. Was the first time in damn well forever that I even opened the blinds. The first thing I see is a damn window, and it’s really fucking close.”

“What do you mean by close?” I asked, still playing it safe.

“He’s trying to say the freaking thing’s closer than before, lady,” the one named Jay spoke up.

Asshole, I thought, as he sat there with a smug smile on his face.

“Well, yeah, that,” Will continued. “The damned window is closer than when I moved in. Shit, I can almost touch it if I lean forward. Wasn’t like this before. Hell, can’t even say if it was there, to begin with.”

He thought about it for a bit, rubbing his puffy eyes. I made a mental note that this guy was definitely a pothead.

“Oh yeah,” he continued. “There was a figure behind the curtains. It vanished right when I stared outside, but I’m sure about it. Shit was damn creepy, I tell you.”

I nodded.

“To be honest, I noticed the same thing about the alley,” I finally admitted.

For a moment I looked around to see if they’d reveal that it was all a joke they’d played on the crazy lady from upstairs. Instead, I saw Will’s eyes growing wide.

“You mean last night?” he blurted out.

I shook my head before I looked at Jen.

“Remember when I knocked on your door?”

“Wait, back then?” she asked surprised.

“Are you guys seriously talking about an alley shrinking?” Jay asked, shaking his head. “Maybe next you’re telling me the mansion is closing in on us? Fucking listen to yourselves!”

No one said anything.

“The picture,” I remembered and took out my phone.

Only moments later Jen, Will, and I stood outside staring at the alley.

“You’ve got to be freaking kidding me,” Jen said in a gloomy voice.

All three of us looked at it and all three of us could see that the alley had shrunk by almost half its size. I instantly snapped a second picture.

“So?” Phil asked when we returned.

“It’s smaller,” Jen answered.

“The fuck you mean?” Jay cut in.

“The alley, idiot,” she snapped at him.

“You’re seriously telling me that the fucking alley shrank down? Something like that isn’t even possible!”

“Go ahead and check for yourself if you don’t believe us. It’s definitely smaller than in my picture,” I retorted, fed up by his act.

“Oh yeah? Maybe you just suck at taking pictures, lady.”

I looked at him and started to get angry, but kept it together.

“Seriously I can believe Will coming up with something like that, but you guys too?” Jay asked staring at Phil and Jen.

“How do you know they aren’t right?”

It was the first time that the one named Steve said anything.

“Really Steve? You too? Am I the only one who’s fucking sane in here?”

“Look at that, will you!”

Without asking, Jen took my phone and showed him the two pictures.

“Could be any freaking alley,” Jay said shaking his head.

I noticed though that even he was a little unnerved by what he’d seen.

“So what do you want to do about it?” he started again. “Call the man from social services? The police? What do you want to tell them? Hello sir, our alley’s shrinking and I was wondering if you-“

“Will you shut the fuck up?!” I finally screamed at him.

I could see the surprise on his face.

“Jesus, lady, no need for that!” he said raising his hands.

“Maybe there’s an explanation to it. What if the mansion’s falling apart?” Phil tried to reason.

“Or maybe it’s some stupid trick? You know for YouTube or something?” I tried. “I mean no one lives out here, right? They might try some social experiment or a prank or god knows what.”

The others weren’t convinced by my idea. Hell, even I wasn’t, but it was better than the alternative of a mansion moving or the alley shrinking.

There wasn’t anything else we could do or talk about and soon I returned to my apartment. I did my best to distract myself with a pleasant dinner and a movie on Netflix before I went to bed.

A noise woke me up in the middle of the night. It sounded like something grinding against stone, accompanied by what sounded like breathing. I shrieked and jumped for my night light, still half asleep. My first thought was that someone else was in the room with me. For a moment I looked around in a panic before I realized that it was coming from outside.

I have to admit, I was a little apprehensive when I opened the blinds. What I was greeted with was absolutely nothing. The sound too had vanished.

I opened the window and checked the alley as best as I could. I looked for animals, people, or even some sort of mechanism. There was nothing though. The alley was all but empty. I closed the window and the blinds and went back to bed.

I’d barely drifted off when the strange sounds started again. When I looked outside again, I could’ve sworn I saw something moving behind the window next door. I shivered and closed the blinds again.

For the rest of the night, I could barely catch any sleep. The thought of someone or something out there, waiting for me behind the window was creepy enough. What made it even worse was that whenever I drifted off, I could’ve sworn I heard the same, strange noises again.

In the end, I gave up, prepared myself some coffee, and stayed awake until it was time for me to go to work.

On my way, I took another glance at the alley. It looked as if the mansion was leaning over towards our small apartment building. It seemed almost as if the mansion was reaching out for it. I averted my eyes and shook my head.

“Just your damned imagination, Linda. Something like that isn’t even possible,” I told myself again, but even I knew I was lying to myself.

Work went terrible that day. I couldn’t focus at all. I was sleep-deprived and my thoughts centered on the weird events that had happened. Multiple times people yelled at me to get a move on and to stop daydreaming.

Eventually my superior came over and demanded to know what was going on. I told him I suffered from sleep deprivation and night terrors.

“If the job’s too hard on you, why don’t you take a few days off and get some rest,” he suggested in a sarcastic tone.

I said nothing and nodded, knowing damn well it meant almost the same as getting fired. I was furious, mad, and cursed the damned mansion, and whoever was behind this entire thing.

When I got home, I was still pissed. I put on a random show on Netflix, but after only a few short episodes, I drifted off to sleep.

When I woke up again, it was already dark outside and my phone told me it was late at night.

Great, so much for my daily routine, I thought. Soon enough, I realized why I’d woken up. They were back, the same strange grinding and breathing sounds.

I’ve had it with this shit, I thought, ripped the blinds aside and opened the window.

“Knock it off you son of a-“ I started, but what I saw was not a person.

As the breathing and grinding continued, I saw something moving on the wall itself. It had to be some sort of mechanism that was moving the wall or something. With the dim light of my night-lamp, I wasn’t able to make it out though.

I reached for my phone, opened the flashlight app, and pointed it at the wall.

The entire upper wall was covered in pulsating bumps. It seemed as if the bricks of the wall were moving in and out rhythmically. As the plaster was moving, it looked almost as if the wall was breathing. For a moment it reminded me of blisters or pimples on a person’s skin.

I stood there in horror and confusion staring at the spectacle in front of me. One of the many bumps grew bigger and bigger before it burst open. The plaster crumbled from the wall and a thick, yellowish liquid leaked from the wall. In an instant, the air was heavy with a rancid, almost putrid smell.

The worst though was the place where the bump had been before. Instead of the bricks that should’ve been below the plaster, I saw a twitching fleshy mass. There were holes or pores in it from which the disgusting liquid seemed to be pumped outwards.

When the shock and the sheer absurdity of the situation settled in, I stumbled back, not even able to scream. In an instant, I rushed to the bathroom and vomited.

For long seconds I stood behind the bathroom door shivering. I told myself to reach for the door and open it, but I wasn’t able to move.

What the hell had I just seen?

I tried to reason with myself that it hadn’t been real, that it couldn’t be. It had to be my imagination. The grinding and breathing, too. My mind must’ve made it all up for whatever, fucked up reason.

Yet, the trick didn’t work. Not this time.

When I reached out for the door, it wasn’t to open it. It was to lock it.

I don’t know when sleep arrived, but I must’ve sat in the bathtub for hours, shaking and shivering.

What woke me up was knocking against my front door. For a few seconds, I didn’t understand where I was. When the knocking continued, I got up. For a moment I hesitated, then unlocked the door and peeked outside. When I found nothing lying in wait for me, I hurried to the front door.

At the door, Jen greeted me and I could see the relief on her face.

“Oh thank god, Linda, you’re okay,” she said. “I thought you’d be gone, too.”

I had no idea what she was talking about.

“What’s going on?”

“Will’s gone!” she exclaimed.

“There’s no trace of him, but he wouldn’t just run off like that!”

“You think something happened to him?”

Jen nodded, a worried look on her face. Only now did she seem to notice what a mess I was.

“Linda, what happened? Are you all right?”

“I,” I started but couldn’t finish the sentence.

“I saw something, that’s all.”

Jen didn’t press on.

“You want to come down with me?”

“Yeah, I’m not going back in there,” I said as I took a glance over my shoulder.

When Jen led me inside, the rest of the group looked up.

“What did you bring her down for?” Jay asked annoyed.

“She’s scared asshole,” was all Jen replied to his remark.

“Something happened to you, too?”

It was Steve who stepped up to me. I nodded weakly, only now noticing how exhausted I was after the events of the last days.

“Well, you gonna spit it out, lady?”

“Jay. Just. Shut. Up. Okay?” Jen snapped at him.

She turned from him and motioned for me to take a seat on the couch. She vanished in another room and brought me a cup of watered-down coffee. After a few sips, I told the rest what I’d seen last night.

“All right, what the hell’s going on here?” Steve cursed after a while.

“Is that shit still there?” Jay asked.

“I only saw it in the middle of the night, so I don’t know,” I admitted.

Right at that moment Steve got up and made his way to Will’s room. I rushed after him.

“Careful,” I urged him.

When we were both in the room, I could see that the window was still wide open. Will’s bed was in chaos. Apart from that though, the rest of the room seemed almost untouched.

Steve stepped to the open window and carefully leaned outside to check the mansion’s wall. A moment later he turned back to me.

“Can’t see a thing.”

I don’t know why, but somehow I already knew that there wouldn’t be a hint of those bumps left.

We returned to the living room and found the rest talking about Will and what might have happened to him.

“Why are you so sure he didn’t just run off?”

It was Phil who answered.

“It’s not so easy. He needs his,” he made a pause trying to find the right words, “medication. You know he’s…”

His voice trailed off without finishing the sentence.

Medication, I thought and smiled knowingly while Jen frowned at Phil’s all too obvious lie.

“The window’s a mess, too. Someone must’ve pried it open from outside,” Jen went on.

I looked up at that. It was the first time I’d heard that and I was alarmed.

“Did you call the police?”

“Yeah, called them first thing in the morning, but they haven’t arrived yet,” she blurted out quickly.

“Tell you how it is, lady,” Jay cut in after a brief glance at Jen. “They probably won’t show up at all. We’d some trouble here before, right after we moved in. Took them days to show up, and they didn’t seem to care one bit.”

“So if he didn’t run away, and someone broke in the room, what do you think happened?” I finally asked.

While they all argued about it, I remembered what Will had told me before. Someone had been tapping against his window and he’d seen a silhouette. When I spoke up about it, everyone turned to me.

“You think someone in that mansion took him?” Steve spoke up.

I nodded.

As the rest of the group argued about what to do, I turned to Jen.

“Hey, Jen, is it all right if I take a nap here?”

She looked around and frowned.

“Let’s go to my room, you can sleep there. You never know what happens with those guys around.”

She looked right at Jay when she said this.

“Fuck you bitch, it only happened once,” he said and gave her the finger.

I couldn’t tell if they were joking or not.

Jen’s room could barely be called that. It was tiny and only comprised a bed and a small shelf.

“Sorry to ask, but could you bring me some water? Oh, and if possible,” I added with a weak smile, “maybe something that helps me sleep a little better?”

“Sure thing, Linda.”

She returned and handed me a glass of water. After the first sip, I gulped down the rest greedily. I was surprised by how thirsty I was. It took only a moment for me to drift off.

When I woke up, I was glad that I hadn’t been plagued by any weird dreams. I guess whatever Jen gave me did the trick. I got up and stumbled from the tiny room.

“You were out pretty long,” I heard Phil from behind me. “It’s already dark outside.”

I nodded and made my way to the living room.

“Hey there, sleeping beauty,” Jay greeted me with a little wink.

I didn’t even bother to give him a reply.

“What about the police? Did they turn up yet?”

“Nope,” Steve answered.

“Any news about Will?”

I got a second nope.

Steve told me they’d gone over to the old mansion but weren’t able to see anything via the stained old windows. After that, they’d gone to what they thought was the front door. Whatever they did, however much they pounded against it and called out, there was no reaction. They even tried to force themselves in, but the door didn’t budge at all.

The worst, he said, was the feeling the giant building gave them. The entire time they felt as if someone was watching them. It was almost a physical sensation. Yet, there was no one there at all and they saw no movement behind any of the windows.

As I listened, I fumbled for my phone but realized it wasn’t there.

“Shit,” I cursed. It was still at my place.

For a moment I considered giving up on it, but then I told myself that was ridiculous. What was the worst that could happen? Not like a freaking wall could come after me, anyway. I’d rush in, grab the phone, and be gone in an instant.

“Linda, where are you going?” Jen asked when I made my way towards the door.

“Gotta get my phone. I’ll be right back.”

In front of my door, I told myself to calm down. Then I took a deep breath and opened the door.

At first, I only peeked inside. When I saw or heard nothing strange, I entered.

My phone was still in the living room and I hurried inside. I rummaged through the room before I found it lying right below the window.

As I kneeled to grab it, the same terrifying sounds I’d heard last night started again.

“Oh god, please no.”

I told myself to just get the damned phone and run. Yet, when I got up, my eyes wandered back to the wall, driven by some abstruse sense of curiosity.

When I stared at it, I saw that it was entirely covered by pulsating bumps.

Fear washed over me as I stared at the absurdity in front of me. I took a step back, but at that moment one of the disgusting bumps burst open. This time it wasn’t only the disgusting liquid that poured from it.

With wide eyes, frozen and uncomprehending I watched as the flesh below it wiggled and push forward. It stretched further and further into the direction of my building almost like a tentacle. There was a wet splash as the flesh made contact. The same putrid smell reached my nose, and I gagged.

At that moment, I saw that the window opposite me was wide open.

My eyes were met with an older woman and for a moment I thought someone was living over there. I opened my mouth to say something, but at that moment she leaned forward and I could make out the horrible face.

Behind greasy strains of overlong hair lay a bulging, leather forehead. Her eyes were deep and sunken between puffy, almost disgustingly swollen skin. Where her nose should’ve been I saw a protruding, bony thing that had pushed out from the festering skin around it. The mouth was a lipless hole filled with rotten and misshapen teeth.

When she saw me, the smile on her deformed face grew wider and wider until it almost divided her face in two.

“Why don’t you come over here and join me, little girl?” she asked, giggling.

Everything about her voice was wrong. It was like a distorted version of that of an old woman.

Her mouth opened impossibly wide, almost as if her jaw unhinged like that of a snake.

I was still frozen in terror, stunned by the ghastly thing opposite me.

As if in a dream I watched as she put two huge, bony hands on the windowsill before she seemed to reach out for me. I thought there was no way she’d reached me, not from over there, but her arms were impossible long. They reached further and further before the thing’s hands got a hold of my windowsill.

I watched in utter horror as the creature pulled itself over. Her body wasn’t that of a human being. It was nothing but a long mass of bloated flesh, like a snake or a worm. I pushed myself up, tried to flee my apartment but before I’d even taken a step, one of the creature’s hands had closed around my ankle.

I hit the ground as the thing yanked me back and toward the window. My fingers clawed at the floor, desperately trying to find a hold, but there was nothing there. I screamed, kicked at the hand that held on to me again and again, but it was futile. I was dragged backward while the creature giggled at my feeble attempts.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

I kept trying to free myself, flailed around in complete and utter terror, but it did nothing. A second hand closed around my arm. I wanted to scream again, to call out for help but only incomprehensible noises escaped my throat.

I felt like prey that had been caught by its hunter, waiting for the final blow to come. All strength left my body as the giant mouth of the creature moved in closer. It reached my foot and a disgusting, swollen tongue pushed outwards. It slowly entangled my leg, snaking around my ankle before it moved upwards. I felt a burning pain erupting from my leg before I lost all feeling in it.

I waited for the creature to sink its teeth into my flesh, but it continued to pull me in closer. Oh god, I realized, it would swallow me whole.

Right at that moment, I heard a scream from behind me. When I looked towards the door, I saw Jen standing there. A second later Phil and Steve joined her.

“What the fuck?!” Phil screamed.

For a moment they were as shocked as I was, unable to do anything. Steve was the first to move again. He rushed forward, picked up a chair, and attacked the creature.

Jen and Phil got a hold of my arms and tried to pull me free, but they were barely a match for the creature’s strength.

The thing wailed in pain as Steve crashed the chair against its head again and again. For a moment it redoubled its effort, and I screamed in pain, thinking it would rip my leg off.

Suddenly the creature let go of me and turned to attack Steve. It swatted the chair aside with such force it flew from his hands and crashed against the wall. Phil was with him in a second and together both of them kicked and beat the creature until it was forced to retreat.

Finally free, I scrambled away from the window and watched as the creature’s worm-like body slithered backward. A moment later it vanished behind the mansion’s window. It grinned at me one last time before the curtains closed.

As soon as it was gone, I screamed again. The nihilistic thought of giving up was gone from my mind. I crawled towards the exit, tried to get up, but fell instantly.

“Linda, wait, it’s all right, it’s all right,” Jen whispered at me in a quiet voice repeatedly.

As I came back to my senses, I felt a burning pain in my arm and saw the red, burned skin where the creature had touched me. My leg was even worse. The skin on my lower leg was cracked and covered in blisters.

Wave after wave washed over me and I felt tears streaming from my eyes as the others pulled me up carefully.

I only remember bits and pieces as they dragged me downstairs. More than once my consciousness drifted off. When we’d finally made it down I was a shivering, shaking mess.

While Jen did her best to treat my wounds, she explained to a confused Jay what had happened.

Steve and Phil rushed to Will’s room the moment we were back. Not wanting to risk another attack by the creature, they locked the door and erected a makeshift barrier in front of it.

“We need to leave,” I urged Jen and tried to push myself from the couch. I sank back almost instantly, cursing with tears in my eyes. The pain was unbearable.

Minutes later the grinding sound started again, but this time it was much, much louder.

While the others were confused about it, I knew what it meant. The mansion was dragging itself closer again. Terrified, I wanted to call out to Jen. Before I could, we heard a loud shattering noise from somewhere in the building. Drowned out, terrified screams followed it.

We all looked around in horror before I realized the source.

“The old couple on the upper floor!” I shouted. “That thing must be back!”

The guys rushed out and only moments later Jen, and me leaning onto her, followed behind.

Right as we’d made it up the stairs, we saw Steve kicking in the door. Instead of going in, all three of the guys cringed back.

“What are you doing? Help them!” I said weakly, but the moment Jen and I reached them, my voice dropped.

The old couple was standing in front of the remains of their living room window. Behind them, the twisting, wiggling mass of flesh had pushed itself into their living room. It was already starting to spread out, and I saw the disgusting, putrid liquid pumping from the pores in the flesh. It was leaking all over the living room floor.

They were both screaming, trying to get away, but in shock, I saw that their feet seemed to be stuck to the floor.

When they noticed us they reached out for us. I saw the old woman toppling over into our direction, landing right in the puddle of liquid. There was a sizzling, burning sound. When she lifted her face again, it was covered in blisters, the skin burned and bursting open.

Jay wanted to rush forward to help them. Right at this moment, another gush of the yellowish liquid poured from the fleshy mass and drenched them.

Their screams turned to a high-pitched wailing that should not come from any human being. I watched in horror as the liquid ate through their clothes, their skin, and into their bodies.

The flesh dropped and oozed from their bodies in mushy pieces and mixed with the puddle below them.

As the smell of burning, melting flesh reached us, Phil stumbled back a few steps and vomited.

Jay finally slammed the door shut. For a moment we all stood in the hallway, in utter disbelief at what had happened. A loud, crashing thump brought us back to reality.

“What now!?” Jen shrieked.

“Help me. Quick!” I yelled at her.

“Linda, what are you-“ she began as I pulled her towards my apartment.

As we reached the front door, we both stopped.

“How the,” she started but didn’t finish. As we stared inside we saw that my living room window was now completely sealed off by a wall. I don’t even know what was more disturbing, my sealed off window, or that the mansion’s had vanished.

“What the fuck’s going on?” Phil yelled in alarm stopping in his track. Steve and Jay barged in after us but immediately took off downstairs without saying a word.

When Jen and I made it down, I could see them tearing down the makeshift barrier in front of Will’s room.

As Jay ripped open the door, I already knew what he’d find. A window blocked off by a solid wall. No one even mentioned the window that here too had vanished.

“What the hell,” I heard Jay curse.

Steve walked up to the wall and after hesitating, he reached out with his hand.

“Feels warm,” he said with a pale face, turning to Jay.

I stared at the wall and watched as a bump formed under the plaster that was rapidly growing bigger.

“Get away from there!” I screamed, but it was already too late.

The bump burst open.

The first thing I heard wasn’t the tearing of plaster, neither the squirting of liquid, but the sound of burning flesh. Then all sounds were drowned out by Steve’s screams.

The liquid on Steve’s hand, arm, and shoulder ate into his flesh. I watched horrified as bits and pieces of his arm fell to the ground, melting away. Then his shoulder vanished, almost collapsed inwards eaten away by the liquid. His bloodcurdling screams died out even before his body hit the floor.

That was it for me. Before anyone could move or react, I pushed myself forward. I made it only a few steps before I crashed to the floor.

“Out!” I screamed. “We have to get out!”

Pain rushed through my entire body as I fought myself back up. With adrenaline coursing through my veins, I dragged myself forward, thinking of nothing but escape.

I reached the hallway and finally the exit door. I almost blacked out from the pain in my wounded, burned arm as I ripped open the door.

Instead of the fresh, chilly night air, another wall greeted me. I stared at it in disbelief and slumped to the floor.

I saw Jen stopping in her tracks right behind me, covering her mouth, letting out a terrified yelp.

“No way,” she whispered as she came towards me.

Phil and Jay followed behind us after their initial shock. As I turned, I saw them move to the next apartment over. They kicked down the door only to emerge from it again after a few seconds. Then they rushed to the next one.

Phil and Jay didn’t say a word when they sank down next to me and Jen with thousand-yard stares.

I didn’t even bother to ask. I knew what they’d found in all the apartments. Every window and every spot that led outside was now gone.

We were completely trapped and cut off from the rest of the world.

After we’d mustered up enough energy we checked the basement. There was no way out there either. All the tiny basement windows had been sealed off.

The internet and the energy were still working, hell even the phones did for some time.

For hours we desperately tried to get help, all of us did. I called the police over and over. I got through several times, but the signal was so bad, they weren’t even able to make out what I was saying.

Before long I gave up on it. Even if they could understand the address, what would happen? By now our building was most likely surrounded by the mansion’s walls and had become another part of it. They’d probably think they got the wrong address or write it off as a prank call.

We carefully tried to break open the walls, but it was another futile try. The weird, fleshy mass had already replaced the bricks right below the plaster. The moment we discovered it, the same liquid that had killed Steve and the old couple leaked from it. It didn’t matter what we used, be it metal or wood, everything that touched the liquid melted.

Whatever we tried, nothing had an effect on those damned walls and any damage was soon regenerated.

In the end, there was nothing we could do.

Before long we moved to the center of the hallway. At least here we’d be as far away as possible from those outer walls and the corrosive liquid.

While we gathered anything useful, we noticed that the surrounding walls were changing and shifting.

At times the hallway was shorter than before. Then, an hour later, it seemed too long. The layout of the apartments changed too. At first, it was little by little, but soon entire rooms were replaced by different ones. It seemed as if the entire place was remodeled and incorporated into whatever the mansion was.

It was because of these changes I remembered that we weren’t alone.

When I checked one of the vacant apartments for usable things, a wall in front of me started moving. I stumbled backward as fast as my injured leg allowed me too, but for a moment the interior of the mansion was revealed to me.

I don’t know what I saw. Words can’t describe it. It was both a void, but also a room glistering in all the colors of the rainbow.

A hulking, humanoid creature, much too tall and skinny noticed me. For a second the creature stared at me and I could see its deformed face. It was twisted into a perpetual, grinning smile.

During the few seconds, I stared into the mansion’s interior a wave of euphoria washed over me and I couldn’t help but giggle.

It was over as soon as the wall closed again. The bout of insanity left me terrified and shivering. Was this what awaited us?

As I retreated to the hallway, I heard noises from behind the wall, soon followed by giggling. It soon transformed into distant laughter. When I reached the hallway, it had already stopped.

At times I could still hear it, resounding from different parts and areas of the building or the surrounding walls. I imagined the creature hiding behind the walls or in the crawl spaces below or above us, exploring the ever-changing walls and rooms of the mansion.

While we huddled together in the hallway, the hours soon turned to days. I don’t know if I ever slept during that time.

The first to break was Phil. It happened while we made plans on how to ration the food and water we’d left.

“Why don’t we just drink from the freaking tap?” he suddenly yelled at us, staring at the small cup of water he was holding.

No one replied. There was no need to. After Phil had gulped down the contents of his cup, he went on.

“I mean the energy’s still working, the internet too, so why not the pipes?”

He looked at each one of us, trying to find either reassurance or someone stopping him. He got neither. No one said a word. Jen didn’t even look up.

“Come on, you guys must be thirsty too! We might be able to drink it, why not try it? You know, to see if it’s all right!”

“Go ahead then,” Jay said shrugging.

Phil stood there, unmoving for a while. Then he turned to me. I could see his wide eyes, his quivering lips. His entire expression was pleading with me. I could tell that he wanted me to stop him, wanted me to tell him that there was no way the water would be fine. He was so afraid.

I didn’t say a thing for a while.

“Go do it,” I pressed out and looked away. I couldn’t deal with any of this anymore.

I heard him mumble to himself as he walked away. Soon I heard the distant sound of running water. After a while, I heard him again.

“It’s fine!” he called out to us.

“Nothing is happening, my hand’s not burning at all! I’m sure I can drink it, right guys?”

His voice almost broke because of fear.

I stayed quiet.

After a few more seconds I heard him gulp down. What surprised me the most wasn’t that he actually drank the water, but how clearly I heard it.

Moments later he returned to us.

“I told you guys it would be fine. I knew we could drink it all along,” he said snootily.

“You guys are such idiots, saving up and rationing those few bottles of water as if they are oh so important. Why don’t you guys drink from the-“

“Oh, will you shut up already?!” Jen yelled from behind me without even turning around.

I saw Phil open his mouth to snap back at her, but then he mumbled a “Whatever,” and sat back down.

Not even ten minutes later I could hear him breathe heavily and shifting around on the floor.

“Will you fucking stop?” Jen screamed at him again.

As I looked over, I could see that his face was glowing red and covered in sweat.

“What’s the matter?” I asked him.

Phil’s eyes focused on me. He opened his mouth but instead of words only bloody froth came from it. When he saw it, his eyes went wide. He stared at me pleadingly, as if I could do anything to save him.

Then he started to scream. He twisted, flailed around and his jaw cramped up. His eyes almost popped from his sockets as he continued to scream.

“Shouldn’t have drunk the damn water,” I said to myself.

Suddenly he clutched at his abdomen, pulled up his shirt and I could see the many deep, bloody holes. I saw his hands dig into the mushy flesh, tearing at it and trying to fix what could not be fixed. His screams lasted a while longer before silence returned.

Jen had looked on without saying a word and had turned away already. After we’d found that all the exits were blocked off and there was no way out, she’d given up.

Jay was quiet too, staring at his dead friend with wide, shocked eyes, but he too turned away soon after.

Ever since we’ve moved to the hallway, I’ve spent the days in front of my laptop. There’s still power and an internet connection. I don’t know if I should thank god or curse him for it.

I’ve been typing out what’s happening to us for a while now. It keeps me busy and distracts me from the bleak reality around me.

I’ve posted this story all over the internet. I cried for help, pleaded, asked for advice, for an explanation, but no one believed me. The only thing I got was ridicule and jokes.

No one but the social service knows we’re even out here. There are so many similar buildings throughout the city though. They had renovated all of them, in their new ‘cheap housing for everyone’ project and filled with people like me, the undesirable. By now they’ve probably forgotten about half of those buildings already. Hell, I doubt they’d even bother with us if we’d stopped paying rent. At least for a while.

I wrote to them but there’s no reply, as I’d expected.

After that, I wrote to all my friends, acquaintances, and family, anyone I could remember. I told them I needed help, that I was in trouble and gave them my address.

Yet, no one’s replied to me. Most of them had given up on me years ago when I was still hooked on the drugs. They probably think that’s why I’m writing them. I doubt any of them would believe that I’m clean.

I would laugh if I still had the energy left for it.

This thing here, this mansion, it’s not a building. I don’t know what it is or where it came from. All I can say is that a thing like this shouldn’t exist.

There were noises all around us again. The giggling, the shifting of the walls, the grinding outside. It most likely means that the mansion is now closing in on another building. There’s most likely not a single trace left of our small building and soon… Oh god, I can’t bring myself to write those thoughts down.

When I last woke up, a wooden door had appeared at the end of the hallway. It was just there, out of nowhere.

Jay has been looking at it for hours. Jen ignored it like everything else. She’s alive, but she doesn’t talk or even move. Only once in a while, she takes a sip of water, but that’s all she ever does.

I’m trying my best to not think about that stupid door and keep on typing. Jay is trying the same but I can see he’s getting restless. He’s been staring at the door for god knows how long. Every once in a while he’s shaking his head and mumbling to himself. I know he’s contemplating to open it.

Jay is gone.

At one point he couldn’t take it anymore and got up. I followed him as best as I could on my injured leg.

“I’m going,” he said as I reached him.

Again, I said not a word.

“Just sitting here won’t do anything. Maybe I can find a way out.”

“Yeah, maybe,” I said in a weak voice and nodded.

“Right? The mansion has windows and doors. If I find anything then,” he said but his voice trailed off.

We both knew anyway. We knew about the liquid, the shifting walls, and the monsters.

“I’ll bring help, I swear it.”

With that, he put his hand on the doorknob. I nodded as he turned it. There was nothing but thick, heavy darkness behind it. A few seconds later he stepped in.

The darkness engulfed him. I stood there for a long time as the echo of his footsteps grew quieter and quieter. I waited for the screams, the laughter, the grinding, the glowing lights I’d seen before, for anything. Yet there was nothing, no sounds at all. I waited desperately for anything to get him.

Tears streamed from my eyes as I threw the door shut and cursed at the damned mansion for giving me hope.

Jen suddenly started talking again.

“What are you even doing?” she asked as she turned over to me.

“Typing, it keeps me sane.”

She laughed. I didn’t know she had the energy left for that.

“Why do you even bother? We’ll die in here, anyway! Why not let go?” she asked. “Letting go is the best damn feeling in the world. God, I wish I had some,” she rambled on.

“What do you mean?”

She told me about all sorts of drugs, many of which even I hadn’t heard. As it turned out she and her friends weren’t just potheads. No, they were hooked on various stimulants, at least most of them.

Some, like Phil and Jen, were heavy users, while others like Steve or Jay stayed mostly clean.

“Is that why the police didn’t show up? Because they knew you’re… drug addicts?” I asked after she was finished.

Jen burst out laughing and then dropped me a bomb.

“Oh god, Linda, how can you be so freaking stupid at times? You think we actually called them? You really did? Oh my god, that’s hilarious!”

With that, she burst out laughing once more.

“What do you think would’ve happened? What would we even tell them? Oh, hey officer, our friend vanished, please ignore all the drugs and search for him, kay?”

She kept on laughing while I sat there, trying to take in what she’d told me.

“There was so much of the shit in Will’s room. What do you think would’ve happened? We’d look at some serious time, fuck, even the shit in my blood would’ve been enough for that,” she continued, but then broke off.

“Guess prison would’ve been better than to die here, right, Linda?”

I was still fuming, not able to bring out a damn word.

“Linda?” she asked again. When I said nothing she turned around again.

“Well then, fuck you, too,” she mumbled.

I kept quiet and typed out what this bitch had told me and what she and her friends had done.

If the police would’ve come and cleared out their fucking apartment, I’d not be here right now.

It’s her fault. They’ve all been lying to me. I could’ve been saved instead of being trapped in this, this…

That door is still there, even now, hours after Jay went in. It’s still tempting me.

I heard something scratch over the wooden surface. Maybe the creature that tried to get me is back? Maybe something even more terrifying. I can imagine it, sitting behind the door, waiting until I get as desperate as Jay.

That’s why this damned door is still there. To lure me in. To give me hope, hope that doesn’t exist.

No, not me. I wouldn’t fall for it.

As I’m typing out these last few lines my food reserves are diminishing. There’s still water left for days though, maybe a week.

I’ve been thinking a lot. What if someone’s coming? Maybe my parents read my email? Or what if the social service is coming to check things out? Maybe they even answered me, but the mails aren’t coming through anymore.

I have to last a little longer.

All I need is to find food. I checked all the apartments again, but there’s nothing left.

However, there’s another option. One I haven’t even thought about. I don’t know where those thoughts are coming from. At first, they were scary, terrifying, but now I realize that they are right. It’s all her fault after all isn’t it? It’s the least she can do. I know anyone who’d read this would agree with me.

I’ll post this today. The phones haven’t been working in days and the power keeps cutting out.

If I put this all out there, if someone reads this, then help will come. I can’t give up. I only have to last a bit longer.

More and more often I stare at her. She’s asleep, so she won’t notice a thing.

Oh, I’m giggling already. Her not knowing what I’ll do, just like I didn’t know about the police makes me laugh so much.

I can’t hold back anymore, I just can’t. All I can feel is euphoria and I can’t stop smiling. It reminds me of that strange, hulking creature I saw and that makes it even more hilarious.

I know I have to be quick. I can’t let her wake up.

The knife is already resting on my lap. I just have to send this, then it’s time.

Oh, I can’t wait anymore.

The Changeling

There are sometimes tales that you can’t believe really happened.

It was on a mild Saturday afternoon that I heard one such tale.

My dad had tasked me to mow the lawn and to clean up the old shack next to our house. It had taken me most of the morning and a good part of the afternoon.

When I finally closed the door of the shack, I noticed our neighbor, Mister Kunze. The old man was sitting outside on a bench in front of his house. He was reading from what I assumed to be his bible.

He had always been very religious and a devoted Christian. In the last years though, he’d been drawn more and more to the Holy Scripture. I often wondered if it was because of his old age and if death was an ever-present, impending shadow.

I’d always liked the old man. When I was younger, he’d often watch over me when my parents weren’t around. I had spent so many afternoons talking with him. He was one of the nicest people I knew. So, of course, I went over to greet him.

When I was there, I found him trembling.

“Mister Kunze, is everything alright?”

When I saw the tears running down his cheeks, I asked again, this time louder, more alarmed.

It took the old man a few more moments to realize that I was there, but then he smiled and shook his head.

“It’s nothing, Martin.”

“But you were crying!” I protested.

“Everything is fine. I am just an old man and I remembered something.”

He gave me another weak smile, but I could see that he was still shaking.

“Nothing is fine, you are shaking! What did you remember? Was it something bad?”

The old man looked at me while clutching the Bible and pressing it to his body.

“It’s something that happened a long time ago, in my home village. It was back when I was still a boy.”

“Isn’t this your home? I thought you told me you grew up and lived here your whole life?”

The old man laughed a little and started to cough right away. When it was over, he continued talking.

“No Martin, I didn’t grow up here. I was born in a Catholic village in southern Bavaria. It was a small, remote place, up in the mountains. Never told anyone about it.”

“Why didn’t you?”

The old man didn’t answer my question. He was quiet for a while, reminiscing before he continued talking. This is the story he told me:

When I was a young boy, there were lots of strange local myths and legends in my home village. I guess it was due to the remoteness.

There were stories about beings who entered a person’s house via the chimney to steal valuables. Others talked about mischievous fairies or tiny creatures that lived in the forest. One of them was about the so-called Changeling.

A Changeling is a child that starts acting strange and shows inconspicuous behavior. They overeat, break things or tire out their parents by screaming all the time. Simply said, they behave much, much worse than other children.

They are the child’s of witches, left behind instead of the real, human child, to create mischief.

Stories like that were frequent back in the day. I can imagine that in some remote regions they are even now.

When a young boy in the village began to act strange, gossip started. I don’t remember how old he was, but I am sure he wasn’t even ten yet.

He had moved to the village with his mother about half a year ago. They lived in one of the cabins near the edge of the forest. They led a somewhat secluded lifestyle and the woman and her son were rarely seen in the village.

After the first months though, the boy appeared more often and he behaved strangely. It seemed he didn’t like to talk to people or wasn’t able to do so. He was shy and hid or ran away whenever someone tried to approach him.

Of course, rumors about the boy soon started to make the rounds. It didn’t help that the mother stayed blissfully ignorant of the situation.

It was mainly the older people who talked about it. They were always waiting for something like this to happen. It wasn’t long before the rest of the village joined in with their gossip and for the word Changeling to be mentioned.

Soon everyone referred to the little boy as nothing but the Changeling. It took no more than a week for him to become the village’s main topic.

New stories about his shenanigans were told every week. He was seen in the village at night, sneaking around the buildings or spying on people. The old women said he made the milk turn sour or the food go bad. Other stories include him playing tricks on the people and stealing their belongings. Even if anything broke, the blame was put on the little boy.

One day a hunter spread stories about the boy talking to the wild animals and the forest spirits. He was in league with them, the hunter said. Soon the boy would send out the foxes to get the chickens and worse things to kill the other livestock.

I am sure now that many, if not all, of these accounts were fictitious. I have to admit though, that back then, even I started to believe the talk. It is not too surprising, considering how the boy acted.

There were some who said the he was harmless, odd or feeble-minded. Overall though, the situation and the mood in the village kept changing for the worse.

It wasn’t long before animals started to vanish. At first, it was only a cat, which is nothing out of the ordinary in a village. When more cats disappeared though, the villagers were convinced that it must be the doing of the boy.

One night he was even seen outside, holding a dead cat to his chest, running away as fast as he could.

At the same time, people’s chickens started to be taken at night. In the morning they’d find the doors of the chicken crops to be broken down.

It was clear who was responsible for all of it. Something had to be done! The boy, or better his mother, had to be questioned.

Soon after things cooled down though. It seemed as if the boy had done enough and even he tired of his antics. For a few weeks, nothing at all happened. The people started to believe that his shenanigans were a thing of the past.

That was until Frank Schmidt’s daughter vanished. She was a young, twelve-year-old girl.

Her parents had been worried when she didn’t return home from playing with friends. They started to ask the neighbors if anyone had seen her, but no one knew a thing.

It wasn’t long before a search was started. Maybe the girl had gotten in an accident or had gotten herself lost in the woods. These things had happened before.

The whole search went on for hours. It was already dark when the girl was found. The tiny, white body was hidden in the underbrush at the edges of the woods. Her body was covered in bruises and small wounds. Strangulation marks showed on her neck. She was without a doubt dead.

The mother of the girl fell to her knees, crying, screaming and hugging her child’s body. The father looked on only for a few moments before he exploded into a fit of rage.

“It was the damned boy,” he screamed. “The Changeling, he’s back. It must’ve been him!”

Frank Schmidt had always been a brusque man, but now he was out of it.

As he screamed in rage, other voices joined in with his:

“We have to find him. Punish him! Chase him away! Beat him!”

“Kill him!”

It was a cacophony of voices that rose into the night. More than a hundred people were here, but they all were saying the same thing: Find and kill the Changeling.

I was shocked at what I was hearing, but soon I was carried away by the mood. Mob mentality is a scary thing. I didn’t know what was going on, I just followed along with the rest.

People started to spread out to find the boy. One group headed for his home, the cabin near the woods. By sheer coincidence, I found myself right in the middle of this group. The mother was at fault people said. She’d brought the devil child here and did nothing to stop him. It was her fault!

As soon as we reached the cabin, the screaming started anew, followed by loud thumps against their door.

After a short while, the boy’s mother opened. She was shaken and visibly confused. Her eyes went from one person to the next. She didn’t understand what was going on it seemed. She looked scruffy, her clothes dirty and tattered.

“Where is the boy,” Frank Schmidt asked her in a loud, angry voice.

The woman winced and took a step back in fear.

“I don’t know where he is,” she answered them, “hasn’t been home in days…”

Some people went forward, screaming at her, accusing her of hiding him inside. Some were already reaching out for her to hold her down.

“Why I’d be hiding this… this thing!?” she suddenly screamed.

“He’s not my boy anymore! He’s something different… demolished the whole house, attacked me, even bit me!”

And to prove it she revealed the long cuts and scars on her arms.

“That thing is a Changeling,” she finally spat out, her eyes wide with fear.

“I just want my boy back,” she added in a weak voice, shaking her head.

The only person who still stepped forward was Frank Schmidt. The mad father pushed the woman aside to step into the building, not listening to a word she’d said.

He had only taken a few first steps inside when other voices were heard: The boy had been seen in the village.

Without a second’s thought, the father turned away from the house and began running towards the village. Other people followed him, reassured by the mother’s words. I was with them again. While I hurried along, I had a strange feeling on my mind that I couldn’t put anywhere. It was only for a moment though.

When we were back in the village, it didn’t take long for the boy to be caught. A small kid can only run and hide for so long.

The boy didn’t react to any questions. He was crying and trembling. He started to strike out at anyone who got close to him, scratched and bit them. It took only one hit to break his resistance. Devil’s child I heard the people around me say.

When I reached the village square, I could finally see the insanity that had taken hold of our small village.

It was a crude wooden construction. I first mistook it as a sort of wooden box, something to trap the child in. Only when I saw the torches did things dawn on me. No, they couldn’t mean to. This was wrong. I took a step forward but noticed the gaze of the people around me. I am embarrassed to admit it, but I stopped right in my tracks.

“By God, he’s just a boy,” I heard someone yell and saw Old Peter, our village’s only teacher.

The eyes of Frank Schmidt rested on the older man. They were bloodshot and wide.

“Just a boy Peter? That boy killed my little girl!” he screamed.

He raised his hands and I saw Old Peter inched back a step, afraid he’d get hit.

Then Frank Schmidt only said one more thing:

Tit for tat.

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. They couldn’t possibly mean to…

I wanted to say something, just something. I wanted to run towards them and stop them, but I did nothing. I watched on motionless as they bound the boy to the wood.

He tried to fight back but to no avail. Once he couldn’t move anymore, Frank Schmidt threw one of the torches on the wood.

This couldn’t be real I told myself. It was a nightmare. I looked at the people around me. Those were people I’d known all my life, but now I couldn’t recognize them. Their eyes were wide, as they looked on in fascination at the nightmare in front of them.

For a moment I saw the boy’s mother. She was standing between the rest of them, watching on as they did.

As the flames started to rise, I told myself to look away and close my eyes. I didn’t want to see what was happening. In the end though, I stood right between all those lunatics and watched on as they did.

It didn’t take long for the flames to finally devour all of the wood and eventually the boy. First came the screams, the screams of a little boy. Then the disgusting smell of human flesh. I still have it in my nose. After all those years I can still smell it.

The screams lasted only for a short while. At first, it sounded similar to a child’s weeping. Then, moments later, it rose to something that should never come from the mouth of a little kid.

I don’t know how long the fire lasted, but I watched it all. It might have been minutes, but it felt like an hour.

Once the fire had faded, I was finally able to look away. The many people around me looked as confused and shocked as I must have been. Only now did they realize what had happened. And only now did they realize that they could never undo it.

It took me a while to realize the tears in my eyes. Others too were crying. It seemed the whole crowd was now murmuring and coming to their senses.

“Where did she go?” I heard someone demand of the people next to me.

I could see it was Old Peter again. I had no idea what was going on.

“The mother of the boy,” I heard him yell at some people.

Only a few of them answered. Most of them were still in shock, not yet understanding what had happened. I saw the eyes of other boys, many of them younger than me. They too had seen everything.

Finally, someone told Old Peter that they had seen her run away, while the fire was still burning.

Even if she thought the boy was a Changeling or he had changed, it was still her child, at least in looks. Seeing her little boy die like this…

It wasn’t long before a new search began. This time far fewer people participated. I still remember the repulsion I felt for this whole damned village. When it was about hunting down and killing a little boy, they all joined in. When it was about finding the mother of that same boy, they did nothing.

Our search efforts started almost at random. We looked here and there, went up and down the village until I finally remembered the cabin near the forest.

“Her home, the cabin,” I screamed to the rest of the people.

It was only a few minutes later that we arrived at her door.

Our calls were left unanswered, after a few seconds, I opened the door. First I only peered inside, then I pulled it open and entered the place.

The hut was in complete chaos. The woman had been right. I called out once more, but it was evident that no one was here. We almost left to continue the search somewhere else, but then Old Peter found the door to the basement.

As he opened the door, we saw a light from downstairs. She must be down there, I thought. Yet another call got no answer. I rushed down the stairs, taking two steps at a time.

When I reached the last step, I froze. What I saw couldn’t be real. I shook my head, closed my eyes and then took another look.

A Changeling is a witch’s kid left to human parents. Then what do you call a real kid whose mother turned into a witch?

That was what came to my mind. What I saw in front of me was a witch’s kitchen precisely like it was described in the stories.

There were glass jars filled with strange liquids in all colors. The shelves were filled with old books, various herbs, roots and much weirder things. There was even an experimenting table. There were dead animals. Cats and chickens.

Cats and chickens, I thought. At that moment everything made sense.

Now I knew what that strange feeling had been. There had been something wrong with the boy’s mother, with her eyes. It hadn’t been the eyes of a confused or scared woman, no it had been the eyes of a lunatic.

“Oh dear lord,” I heard someone whisper behind me. Another person crossed herself.

It all made sense now. How could a small kid break down the doors of chicken crops? How could such a little boy kill a girl much older than him?

No, the boy must have been acting strangely out of fear for his mother. He had been hiding from her in the village. That’s why he’d always been there, even at night. He must have been abused, maybe even tortured.

He must have been just an ordinary boy.

“And then we burned this innocent little boy,” ended the old man with a shaking voice. He didn’t even realize I was still sitting next to him on the bench.

He pressed the bible even harder against his chest now.

“Mister Kunze, it is alright, it is not like you did it,” I said.

The old man finally looked at me.

“I did nothing at all,” he said, “if someone would have just…”

He broke off. He didn’t need to finish the sentence. I knew what he was trying to say.

“So what happened afterward?”

It took the old man some more time to calm down before he answered me.

“No one talked about it the next day. No one talked about it for some time. They buried the boy on the cemetery and pretended he’d been sick. Pretended that terrible night had never happened. Soon after though, people started to move away. At first, it was only one person, then a family, then another. My family, too. We moved here about two months after that horrible night. I am sure that by now, the village is all but gone.”

“So they left because they-”

“Because they wanted to forget! To pretend nothing ever happened! That’s the only reason anyone left. Even my parents told me to never tell anyone about that night, and to do what they did, to just-”

He broke off again with tears running from his eyes.

“I didn’t forget. I will never forget what happened during that night. Not until the end of my life. Even if that is all, I can ever do.”