The Mysterious Locker

“You ever heard about the mysterious locker?”

“What locker?” Cindy asked.

“Well,” Craig continued, “there’s supposed to be a locker here that makes people vanish.”

“That’s bullshit, Craig, and you know it,” Jerry cut in.

“Nah, man, I heard it from Thomas Wilkins!”

“Thomas Wilkins’s a liar and you know it!” Jerry retorted.

“Shut up, you idiots, what if someone hears us?” Lydia shushed them.

They both turned to her, only now realizing how loud their voices had echoed through the building.

For a moment, no one said a word, but all stayed quiet.

“Really, I can’t with you two, why are you arguing like that?”

“I told him about the mysterious locker,” Craig answered her.

Lydia rolled her eyes. “God, not that again.”

“What’s it all about?” Cindy pipped up.

She seemed to be the only one who hadn’t heard about that silly urban legend.

“All right,” Craig started in an ominous voice, prompting Lydia and Jerry to share a short, annoyed look.

“As the story goes, a couple of years ago, a group of teenagers snuck into this very pool at night for a swim.”

“That’s just like-“

“Yeah, Cindy, just like us. One of them, Andrew Miller, got so drunk he passed out. So his friends played a little trick on him. They locked him up in one of the lockers here, locker 207, and left him there for the night. The next morning, the locker was empty and Andrew was never seen again. He’d up and vanished.”

“What a bunch of bullshit,” Jerry mumbled.

“Oh yeah? You’ve heard about Andrew going missing, right?”

“I heard he skipped town and-“ Lydia started.

“Yeah, because no one ever talks about what really happened!”

“No one but you, anyway. So, where’s this mysterious locker?” Jerry asked.

Craig grinned and led them to the boy’s changing room and to an old locker with the number 207 written on it.

“Well, here it is, the mysterious locker!”

“Mysterious my ass,” Jerry cursed, pushed him aside, and ripped open the door.

What he found behind was nothing but a completely normal, albeit slightly rusty, locker.

Jerry reached his hand inside, shaking his arm, putting on a mockingly shocked expression.

“Oh no, Craig, look, the locker’s got me! Help, I’m going to be vanished away!”

Lydia started laughing, and even Cindy giggled a little. Craig, on the other hand, stared at Jerry in anger.

“Why don’t you go in for real?” Craig asked.

Jerry blurted out laughing and shrugged.

“Sure.”

With that, he stepped inside and pulled the door shut behind himself.

“Oh no guys, help, there’s-“

But he broke off when the locker suddenly started rumbling and shaking.

“Hey Craig, stop, what the hell are you doing?” he called out, trying to push the door open again, but it didn’t budge.

When he tried for the handle it wasn’t there and in sheer terror, he realized there was no sign of a door ever existing at all.

Transient Global Amnesia

Amnesia.

A word most of us know, but few of us ever experience.

It was a few hours ago. I got up like every other morning, but there was this strange lingering feeling in the back of my head. I couldn’t put it anywhere and went about my morning routine.

I put up some coffee, went to the bathroom, grabbed my toothbrush, and froze in front of the mirror.

The face staring at me, I didn’t know it. My eyes grew wide, mouth opened, and the toothbrush fell from my hands.

Who was that I was staring at? Who was… I?

I tried to remember, tried to figure out what was going on, but there was nothing. My mind was a blank, entirely, and utterly empty.

I rushed from the bathroom and back to my living room. My eyes wandered around, trying to find something, a hint, anything that could explain who I was.

I stumbled to my bookshelf and read the titles of the many books I owned. They were all in English, all American. Twain, Pynchon, Melville, Stephen King, and on it went.

Was I American? I wondered, but still nothing.

I rushed to the kitchen and found an assortment of empty beer bottles. I frowned. Was I an alcoholic? Was this the reason for all this?

With shaking hands, I opened my fridge only to be greeted by some fermented abomination at its back. My stomach churned, and I felt my mouth water as I stared at the abominable meal and threw it shut in an instant.

I went on the internet, started to investigate. Transient global amnesia, they called it. A sudden, temporary episode of memory loss.

As I read the article, fear overtook me. What was this, why was this happening, what was going on?

Then I got a new idea. Maybe it was temporary, maybe if I just waited, my memory would return. Maybe I could somehow trigger those memories lost.

I opened my word processor and started typing. Slowly and steadily letters appeared on the screen.

Click, clack, click, clack. More of them filled the screen. An endless barrage of letters all forming together in a senseless amalgamation so long no other word I’d seen could compare.

And then, to my sheer and utter horror, I realized I could read it. I could read this horrible, alien creation and even… make sense of it.

At that moment, in that instant, it all made sense. Everything was clear to me.

The beer, the fermented cabbage in my fridge. Once more I read the word I’d written.

Donaudampfschifffahrtselektrizitätenhauptbetriebswerkbauunterbeamtengesellschaft

Oh god, it was true, without a doubt. In shock, I set in front of my computer, stunted and sweating.

I. Was. German.

The Video

Insomnia’s a bitch, John thought as he sat in front of his computer.

It would be one of those nights…

For a while, he browsed Netflix before he watched a few funny videos on YouTube.

Before long he grew bored with funny fail compilations and silly jokes and he hit up a few more… adult-themed pages.

While he was browsing and checking videos, a new tab opened out of nowhere.

“Freaking pop-up bullshit,” he cursed in annoyance.

He was about to close the tab when a video started to play. A feeling of apprehension washed over him and he froze.

This video was different from what he’d expected.

What he saw on his computer screen was his very face, sitting in his room at this very desk.

At first, he was perplexed, then scared, then utterly confused. He didn’t own a webcam, never had, and told himself he never would. So how in the hell was this even possible?

His eyes wandered to the position where the camera would’ve to be, but there was… nothing. All there was, was the bleak, white wall.

He returned his attention to the screen, unnerved before he got an idea. He leaned forward, blinked, then moved his head from left to right.

Instead of following suit, his alter ego seemed to continue browsing.

A recording then, he realized. Was this some kind of joke by one of his friends? But why’d they do that and more importantly, HOW?

As he watched the video, his alter ego was clicking, moving the mouse, and every once in a while entering something via the keyboard.

Then the footage changed. His alter ego’s face grew annoyed as it mouthed a curse. Then it grew apprehensive before confusion washed over it.

For a while his alter ego stared directly at the camera, focusing on it before his attention returned to the screen.

John watched himself leaning forward, watched himself blink before he saw something else from the back of the room.

While his alter ego on the screen moved his head left and right, he saw how the closet was pushed open.

At first, there was nothing there, but then a mass of shadows seemed to seep from it.

John’s eyes grew wide as the shadowy mass contorted and wavered before it formed into a vaguely human shape. Long, pale, spidery limbs pushed from the darkness, their proportions all wrong. Then a head followed, a white, pale head. It was entirely smooth, but then the skin tore apart, revealing a ghastly, gorging maw.

On the screen, the creature inched closer towards his alter ego. John’s heart was beating in his chest. He started sweating, shaking, and told himself it was nothing but a fake.

Yet, when he finally closed the damned video, he felt long spidery fingers close around his shoulders and felt a disgustingly warm breath on his neck.

Popping Pimples

It started as a habit, but has almost become a fetish. Popping pimples, that is. I love it.

There’s a sort of twisted satisfaction to bringing forth the horrors that are hidden deep inside your own body.

Whenever I find a big fat one, I almost can’t resist.

Today, though, today was entirely different.

For a few days, I’d had this strange feeling in my left arm. At times, when I moved it, there was a sharp, stinging pain. It was only there for a moment, nothing but a short, blazing flash. At others, there was a tingling sensation.

I soon found the cause.

It was the mother of all pimples. A giant one, buried deep in my armpit. It was nothing but a giant treasure trove of pus ripe for the taking.

At first I stared at it in abject horror. Then I pushed against it with my fingers carefully. I rubbed over it, poked it and could almost feel the enormous amount of pus inside of it moving.

The urge of popping it came up right away, but I forced myself to go slowly, to enjoy this.

For a moment I applied a bit of pressure. I felt the skin stretch as the pus pushed against it. Again and again I did it, almost like following the steps of a ritual.

Then, finally, I pushed as hard as I could. There was a sharp pain, skin burst and pus and blood gushed from it. It was the most disgusting thing I’d ever seen, and I loved every single second of it. Again and again I pressed against it until nothing was left. Then, I slowly and deliberately cleaned my arm pit of the disgusting liquids and fluids.

That’s when I saw it. Where the pimple had been, there was a hole, a hole below my arm pit. I stared at it in horror, disgust, but also, curiosity.

Almost in trance my finger went forward. At first rubbing against it, probing the edges, before I pushed against it.

There was no feeling, no pain, just the strangest sensation.

I felt goosebumps all over my body as my finger slowly slid inside. For a moment, my left shoulder started tingling again. The feeling spread throughout my entire arm as I buried my finger deeper and deeper. Soon, more than half of it was gone.

And then it was back, the sharp, blazing pain. This time, though, I didn’t feel it in my left shoulder, neither my left arm. No, this time, I felt it from the finger I’d pushed into the hole.

Cursing, I pulled it back, but as I stared at it, all feeling left me and I felt a scream of pure and utter terror rising inside of me.

For what I saw, what had caused the pain, were two rows of tiny, bleeding bite marks.

The Bizarrie of Monsieur Delancey

Do you ever wonder why children see the world so differently? Why can they be so enchanted by the simplest and most mundane of things?

I never bothered with things like this. Childhood was a thing of the past, and all its incredible sights had been replaced by logic and rationality.

All that changed after my visit to The Bizarrie of Monsieur Delancey.

I first heard about it in passing at a bus station. A group of students talked about a weird foreigner. The man had bought an old barn at the edge of town and was refurbishing it into some sort of attraction.

I couldn’t help but laugh a little. Why anyone would come here and set up shop was beyond me. Ours was a small town in the middle of nowhere with only a few thousand inhabitants.

Yet, the strange man’s appearance soon became the talk of the town. Most people were ridiculing him and laughing at him, some were showing open disdain and a select few were curious about him.

He hadn’t been in town longer than a week when he started posting fliers all over town.

It wasn’t much in terms of design and shoddy work at best.

“Want to rekindle your imagination?”

“Want to see fantastical and magnificent creatures from around the world?”

Those and other phrases covered the front of a flier. Above them all and written in bright letters, was the name of the attraction: The Bizarrie of Monsieur Delancey.

The back of the flier showed a man clad in a dark, faded mantle. He was standing in front of a painted, wide-open barn door. As I stared at it, I couldn’t tell what the man was supposed to be. A magician? A circus director? Something else? And what about this Bizarrie?

Either way, I didn’t care and so I threw the flier away, just like everyone else did. Well, almost everyone.

Some were more curious or had it out for the strange old man.

One of those was Arthur Miller, a local teenager, and troublemaker.

One weekend, shortly after the Bizarrie opened, he and his friends got drunk and Arthur decided to mess with the old man and wreck his shitty place, as he called it. Yet, when they arrived there, in the early morning hours, the man was waiting for them. He bid them to enter and to marvel at sights they wouldn’t believe. And so Arthur went in.

No one knows what happened. His friends had been waiting for him outside and after only half an hour he stumbled from the place before he ran home in a state of utter terror.

Rumors spread, but most of them were about Arthur. The kid used to call himself a ‘tough motherfucker’ who wasn’t afraid of anything or anyone. Yet, he ran from what everyone thought was nothing but a shitty haunted house.

Arthur changed after his visit. He was jerky, jumpy, his eyes darting here and there as if he was searching for or looking at something. Whenever someone asked him or teased him about his visit, he’d say nothing. He didn’t laugh, didn’t make excuses, and didn’t even lash out at those who ridiculed him.

Half a week after his visit, he walled himself off in his room, refusing to leave it.

This, however, only worked in Monsieur Delancey’s favor and more people began talking about The Bizarrie. And soon someone else visited the place.

She was the type who never moved on after her high school days. She was in her mid-forties now, still unmarried and perpetually lonely, latching on to any fun or excitement she could find. So, on a whim, she’d decided to find out what all the fuss was about.

Her experience must’ve differed from Arthur’s. The look of depression that had so marked her face was exchanged by one of bliss and sheer wonder. She didn’t react to people talking to her, didn’t answer questions, she just stumbled through town. She walked on and on and still on when night fell.

The next day, however, she didn’t show up at work, didn’t leave her home, and similarly to Arthur, walled herself off from the outside world.

This got people talking, of course. They grew weary of the place and hushed whispers about having to get rid of the damned place.

After what happened to Clint Milford, they weren’t just whispers anymore.

Clint is one of our town’s drunks. I guess every town has them. Still, he’s not a bad guy. Just a fifty-something-year-old guy that life wasn’t too kind to. Lost his job, his wife left and took the kids. From then on he spent most of his days drinking away his measly welfare money at the local bar.

I knew Clint from when I was a kid. He used to teach at my local middle school before his life went down the drain.

I see him every once in a while when I’m having a beer or two of my own. The day before he went, he was hanging with a group of younger people. Local busy boys who’ve got nothing better to do than to ridicule a broken man. Their topic that day was none other than the Bizarrie. At first, it was simple jokes, but before long they pressed old Clint to go.

At first, he was against it, but at the prospect of free alcohol, he finally stumbled for the door. I thought about stopping him from going. I wish I’d done it.

It was four hours after his visit to the Bizarrie that they found his battered body at the riverbank. Suicide, the authorities concluded, after someone reported seeing him jumping off a bridge.

The authorities, who’d been watching the place with disdain ever since Arthur’s visit, got involved. Monsieur Delancey was taken in for questioning and his Bizarrie was turned upside down.

Yet, they found nothing. It was a cheap old barn, divided into a multitude of different rooms, each featuring an assortment of cheap scares and equally cheap wonders of the world.

There were no hidden mysteries, no catch, and no danger at all.

One thing caught my interest, something the old man said during his questioning:

“It’s not what’s on display, it’s the imagination that does the trick.”

In the end, they had let him go but forced him to close the place down. After all, a man had died, and two other people had shut themselves off from the world. Our town, they concluded, didn’t need this sort of trouble.

Still, all of this spurred a plethora of new rumors and many went to the place to see it for themselves. Monsieur Delancey sent them all away. The exhibition was closed for good and he’d soon move on.

And that’s how I came in. I work for our local newspaper and eventually our boss wanted a story about the mysterious place and its enigmatic owner.

My curiosity about the place had grown like everyone else’s but what made me volunteer was to find out the truth about what had happened not only to Arthur and Clara but also to old Curt.

So that same day, I set out for the edge of town to pay Monsieur Delancey and his Bizarrie a visit.

When I arrived the old man was sitting on a chair next to the door, reading from an old, yellowed book. He looked up when he saw me walking towards him.

His face was old and wrinkled, the skin a map showing the passing of decades upon decades. Yet, his eyes didn’t seem old at all. They were of bright blue color and gleaming as brightly as the sky above us.

“Monsieur Delancey, I presume?”

“None other than that!”

“So, that’s it then,” I said more to myself than to him as I stared at the half-rotten barn behind him.

“Indeed it is.”

I walked up to the door, but them was quick to spread out his arm.

“Afraid I can’t let you in, young man, the place’s closed.”

“Well, I’m not a customer, I’m with the local paper, a journalist you could say.”

Monsieur Delancey’s eyes focused on me.

“A man of the pen, I see. And you’re here to write about the Bizarrie, I presume?”

“Yeah. So, how about you give me a tour? Of course, not a regular one, but I’d like to learn a thing or two about what you… do here.”

As I said the last thing, I couldn’t help but stare the man down. He didn’t seem to notice my disdain at all. Instead, his eyes darted left and right, almost comically, as if to see if someone else was around.

“Now how about this, you’re not a customer as you said, you’re here to write a story, right? After all the doors are closed, and you’re only here for a brief interview.”

I nodded quickly. “Yes, exactly!”

The old man rubbed his chin, in what I could tell was a studied gesture. Then he nodded at me.

“Well then, come on, Mister,” he started giving me an expectant look.

“Stevenson,” I answered.

“Well then, Mr. Stevenson, welcome to The Bizarrie of Monsieur Delancey!”

With that, he led me forward, not to the front door, but a smaller one, hidden at the side of the barn.

“They told me to keep the entrance shut well and good, but this here,” he said, grinning. “Ain’t no entrance.”

The man rummaged through a pocket in his giant mantle before he produced a key ring. There had to be a dozen keys on it, and I couldn’t help but wonder how heavy the damn thing must be.

With curious eyes, he went through the keys until he found the right one and unlocked the door.

We entered a small hallway divided up from the rest of the barn by a cheap, wooden wall barely high enough to keep you from looking over it.

“This here’s where I bring in all the specimens. Those magical creatures and wonders of the world we’re displaying here at the Bizarrie,” he said as he led me forward.

After a few meters, he stopped again in front of another door. I watched as he went through his keys once more. When the door finally sprang open, he invited me in with a gesture of grandeur.

“Well then, Mr. Stevenson, welcome to The Menagerie du Monde Magique, the very first part of the Bizarrie. Here you’ll find creatures from all around the world, mythological and fantastical, the likes you’ve never seen before!”

I had to fight the urge to laugh, not only at his acting but at what he was proposing. In front of me was nothing but a huge, dirty, rectangular room. Cages lined the walls on both sides, some visible, others covered by blanks. Each one had a sign above it that told visitors what sort of creature they were supposed to be staring at. They were all cheaply made, giving the impression of crude scribbles on cardboard.

I read through some and found one with ‘Cockatrice’ written on it. When Monsieur Delancey noticed me staring at it he walked up to my side.

“Ah, the Cockatrice, a most terrible creature. A single glance from its eyes is enough to kill you, hence we had to cover them up.”

A quick check on my phone told me what a cockatrice was supposed to be or look like. It’s essentially a mixture of a snake and a rooster.

I leaned forward and stared into the cage in front of me and almost burst out laughing.

What I saw was a rooster, a rooster with what I assumed to be a rubber tail. Its body was covered in plastic scales and his eyes, as Monsieur Delancey had said, were blindfolded.

“Interesting,” I brought out, not able to hide the little giggle that followed.

Monsieur Delancey smiled and waited for me to go on.

The next cage I stopped at was a bigger one with a crude sign that said ‘Unicorn’ above it. I already knew what was waiting for me.

“The Unicorn, one of the most beautiful creatures in the entire world. This specimen here was caught in the far-off regions of the Caucasus,” he began explaining. Instead of listening to his ramblings, I stared into the cage.

The Unicorn was what I’d expected. A white horse with a cheap plastic horn glued to its head.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” I mumbled to myself.

I continued on and stared at a few other cages. There was one with the sign Jackalope above it, containing a rabbit with a pair of cheap, plastic horns on its head. Another one was supposed to be a griffin. It was nothing but a cat glad in plastic wings and its face half-covered by a plastic beak. The poor thing stared at me with a miserable expression on its face.

“Do you ever take all that stuff off or do you keep them like this all day long? Didn’t you say the place was closed down, anyway?”

“What might you be referring to, Mr. Stevenson?”

“The costumes,” I started, “the poor cat looks miserable.”

Monsieur Delancey just smiled at my remark but chose not to answer. I made a mental note to include animal cruelty in the article.

I continued on, past other cages, but stopped in front of a tank that said ‘Mermaid.’

“The mermaid, a most prized possession. Unique to only the Bizarrie.”

As I peered inside, I saw a young woman sitting in waist-high water. She smiled at me seductively. I smiled back at her and my eyes wandered down. A cheap fish costume made of rubber hid all of her lower body.

“She’s sitting there all day?” I implored the old man.

“Well, where else would she be? She can’t survive out of the water, Mister Stevenson.”

This time I didn’t bother to hide my laughter. “All right, sure, whatever.”

I had seen enough of his Menagerie du Monde Magique and ignored the rest of the cages. Instead, I continued on to the end of the room where a row of doors awaited me.

“You sure put a lot of work into this,” I said with a nod at the door. “What’s behind them?”

“That, Mr. Stevenson, is a secret. You can only choose one of them.”

Yeah sure, I bet they all lead to the same room anyway, I thought shaking my head. To humor Monsieur Delancey, though, I pretend to reflect upon my choice. I walked up and down before I decided on the third one.

“All right, let’s go with this one.”

The old man stepped forward and took out his key ring once more. When he’d finally unlocked the door, he led me inside. We entered another corridor, this one more constricted than the ones before, leading us around various corners. When we’d made it to the end, he began tinkering with his keys once more. I sighed. By now, the entire ordeal annoyed me. I was sure the old man thought it was part of the mystery, but I found it ridiculous.

Finally, he pushed open the door and was about to go on another tirade about the mysteries that awaited me inside. Before he could as much as start, I pushed myself past him and stepped into the room. This one was smaller than the first one, much smaller.

“It seems your curiosity has overtaken you, Mr. Stevenson,” the old man said, laughing as he followed me.

“What we’ve got here in this room, are two creatures that couldn’t be more different,” he said with a low voice.

There were two cages in the room. One small, covered by a blanket, the other huge and hidden behind a curtain. I sighed at the prospect of seeing more animals dressed in plastic wings and cheap props.

He stepped up to the smaller one and pulled away the blanket. Inside, I saw a small humanoid creature, barely the size of my hand.

“What we’ve got here, Mr. Stevenson, is a chthonic, earth-dwelling spirit, one of the little people or what might you know them at, gnomes.”

I leaned forward and the little thing stared at me with wide eyes before its mouth opened and it squeaked at me in a voice I didn’t understand.

As it spoke I could almost hear the cracking of a small speaker hidden in its mouth. I saw its mechanical movements, could imagine the turning of cogs and gears as the small animatronic wobbled towards the front of the cage. When I focused on its face in the low light of the room, I was sure I saw stitches and seams.

“Very good, it looks almost real.”

Once more Monsieur Delancey said nothing and threw the blanket back over the cage. The little voice squeaked a few more times before it grew quiet.

“Be careful now, Mr. Stevenson, I can only present you this creature for a mere moment,” he said with a serious, foreboding expression on his face.

“Sure thing, show me,” I said.

He opened the curtain and for a moment I could hear the rattling of chains in its back. As I peeked inside, someone jumped forward. I cringed back in shock when I saw the terrible costume the man was wearing.

“Jesus Christ, you stupid asshole,” I yelled at the man and kicked against one of the bars of the cage. The man inside didn’t react, instead, he shuffled forward, mourning and grunting. When his eyes met mine, he began straining against the chains. Monsieur Delancey quickly closed the curtain again.

“A ghoul, Mister Stevenson, a rare specimen from the southern deserts of Arabia. It was found in the ruins of the once-prosperous city of-“

“Yeah, yeah, I get it, it’s a freaking zombie. Well, you scared me, all right. Is that what sent Arthur Miller running away screaming? Was this what drove old Clint to jump off the bridge?”

“Oh no, Mr. Stevenson, you have it all wrong. You’re the very first visitor to set foot into this room. There are many more things at the Bizarrie, many that no one’s seen yet.”

“Hah, all right. What do we do now? Do we go back and try one of the other rooms?”

“I’m afraid there’s only one room left for you, Mr. Stevenson. The last and final attraction of the Bizarrie.”

With that he stepped up to the wall at the end of the room and got out a single, golden key, and opened a door I hadn’t even noticed before.

This time there was no hallway. All that awaited me was a huge, dark room.

“What’s this now?” I asked, staring at the old man.

Unease washed over me as I stared into the darkness. Was there something… dangerous here?

“Don’t be alarmed, Mr. Stevenson, there’s but a single thing here.”

With that, a beam of light appeared in the room, shining on a small podium in its center.

My eyes wandered around, trying to see if there was anything else hidden in the darkness. I remembered the investigation though, they had found nothing dangerous. It had all been fake, I reminded myself.

Still apprehensive, I followed the old man, almost waiting for someone dressed up as another horrible creature to jump me. Yet, all was quiet, except for our footsteps, and I saw nothing but Monsieur Delancey and the small podium.

“This, Mr. Stevenson, is the most prized possession of the Bizarrie,” he said, pointing at a small vial resting on the podium.

I stared at it and then back at him, puzzled.

“And what’s that supposed to be? A magical drink? Some crazy drug? Look, if you’ve got some Ayahuasca shit here or something, I’m not interested in-“

“You’re not too far off, Mr. Stevenson,” he cut me off, “yet, you’ve still got it wrong. What we’ve got here is the water of the Fountain of Youth.”

This time the laughter burst from my mouth in unrepressed waves.

“All right, that’s a good one, the best one yet. You start off with all those Jackolups and Mermaids and Ghouls and now you’ve got some shitty water here spiced with God knows what. Yeah, this is all bullshit. I think I’ve seen enough of-“

“Why don’t you try it, Mr. Stevenson? This vial was prepared specifically for our last visitor. For you.”

Once more I laughed.

“What’s it going to do? Make me a little boy again? Add then years to my life?”

“Oh, you’re mistaken, Mr. Stevenson. You see, the legend of the Fountain is wrong in many ways. The water doesn’t have an effect on your body, but on your mind.”

I shook my head. So, I was right, it was drugs. Monsieur Delancey, though, went on to explain.

“Do you ever wonder, why children see the world so differently?”

Here he paused for a moment, waiting for me to interject something, but I was quiet, waiting for how this entire charade would play out.

“It’s their imagination. As children, our brains can see the world how it truly is. When we’re very young, we aren’t restricted by logic or rationality. No, children can see all the wonders of the world. When we grow older, this ability becomes dormant and is pushed aside by our needs to adapt, to understand, and to make sense of things. Yet, there are ways to reawaken it, to gain back the ability to see the world with the eyes of a child.”

“Let me guess,” I said laughing, “this water will do the trick, right?”

When I said this Monsieur Delancey grinned. It was the biggest grin I’d ever seen on anyone’s face.

“Indeed.”

“And let me guess, Arthur, Clara and even old Clint drank it.”

The old man didn’t answer; the grin on his face didn’t waver. Instead, he just stood there, staring at me expectantly.

I scoffed again and shook my head. Then, reluctantly, my eyes wandered to the small vial. For a moment it seemed to glister in all the colors of the rainbow, becoming a cascade of innumerable colors. Against my will, almost subconsciously, I reached out to touch it. When my fingers brushed against the glass, it began glowing faintly and the colors intensified, growing warmer and brighter.

I picked it up and stared at it with wondrous eyes.

“How are you doing this?” I asked, impressed for the first time.

“Well, Mr. Stevenson?”

I looked at him again before my eyes studied the vial again. It was barely a mouthful of water.

“Don’t you want to get back your imagination? Don’t you long for a world of wonder?

And as he said this, there was an almost supernatural pull, almost as if something in my brain was longing for it, as if it was reawakening.

For a moment, a memory popped back into my head. I was a child again, staring at the few trees behind our house. Yet, at the time, they’d seemed like a giant, grand forest to me. The small dirt track leading past them a road to adventure and mystery.

How big the world had seemed then, I thought, how exciting.

Without even knowing it, I’d popped open the vial and a second later I spilled the strange liquid into my mouth. For a moment I held it there, tasting it, but it was entirely tasteless.

Then I swallowed it.

And right at that moment, the surrounding darkness exploded into a kaleidoscope of colors. My eyes grew wide, my mind filled with images and visions. There was not just color here, there was more, feelings and impressions, ghosts, and shades. It was as if this room encompassed the entire world, a sea of beauty and imagination.

When I turned to Monsieur Delancey, he wasn’t an old man anymore. He was a mythical wizard, clad in a robe of liquid colors. His face was a mask of radiant, glowing beauty. I screamed when I saw him, backed away, and toppled over my legs.

“Now you see, Mr. Stevenson, for the first time you can truly see.”

“What the hell’s this? What did you do to me?” I brought out in a shaking voice.

“The Bizarrie of Monsieur Delancey, but now, you’re finally able to see it for what it really is!”

I was overwhelmed and had to close my eyes from all those radiant colors around me. I squinted, opened them again, but the ghastly, beautiful vison was still there and so was the radiant figure of Monsieur Delancey.

Drugs, it had to be drugs, I told myself as I turned towards the door. Freaking hell, why’d I drank it? Why the hell had I drank it?

“Thank you for your visit to the Bizarrie of Monsieur Delancey!” the radiant figure thundered from behind me.

I stumbled through the door and crashed right into the cage containing the small animatronic. It shook hard, the blanket fell aside, and once more the little thing began playing its squeaking sounds.

Yet, when I stared at it now, there was no hint of it being animatronic. There was no crackling speaker, no cogs or gears, no stitches on its face. As it rushed for the bars of the cage, there was no hint of its mechanical, tumbling movements.

Instead, the tiny figure moved as if it was real. Its tiny hands closed around the bars of the cage. It squeaked at me, an expression of misery on its face. When our eyes met, I knew this creature was alive. It was real.

I cringed back in terror, screaming, and stumbled away from the room, down the hallway, and into the Menagerie du Monde Magique.

I’d barely taken a single step when I froze. What had been nothing but cheap fakes and silly illusions before were now real. There was no doubt each, and every creature was real.

The mermaid was beautiful, the iridescent scales glimmering in the water. Coyly, giggling, she splashed a bit of water against the walls of the tank.

The griffin I’d seen before was bigger now, terrifying even. It hissed at me in a guttural mixture of bird and cat. For a moment it stretched itself and I could see its muscular wings spread out.

I bathed in the glow of the unicorn’s horn and stared into its endlessly beautiful, sad eyes.

The Cockatrice was less a cock and more a serpent now, a slithering terror with a scaly body, sprouting colorful feathers.

In a mixture of wonder, I stumbled from cage to cage, staring at the beasts from mythology.

I went back and force, trying to take in as much as I could of the fantastical sights all around me.

Eventually, the radiant figure of Monsieur Delancey entered the room.

“I’m afraid it’s time to leave Mr. Stevenson,” he said with a smile on his face.

“But,” I stared, about to protest, but his face had changed to a stern expression of seriousness.

“You’ll find other things to marvel at,” he said in a consolatory voice. “The Bizarrie has to move on, to a different place, to share the marvels of the world. But fear not, the world is visible to you again, visible in all its marvel and beauty.”

And with that, he slowly, but resolutely pushed me towards the small hallway and eventually outside.

The world that awaited me was a different place. It was ripe with colors, colors so bursting with life I couldn’t help but stare at everything with wide eyes.

When I looked at the sky, it was of a blue so full, so bright, I’d seen nothing like it. Birds flew past me, their feathers bright and beautiful.

Everything looked different, felt different.

As I walked back to town, I came upon other people. I almost grew angry when I saw them trudging on, eyes downcast, or right ahead at whatever destination they were going to. None of them looked at the beauty and wonder all around them.

I don’t know for how long I walked, for how long I stumbled through this magical place the world had become. Here and there, I noticed small, mysterious creatures. Strange animals that buried into the underbrush as I walked past them, and tiny people hurrying away when they saw me.

Sundown was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. It was as if the sky was aflame, alive with color. The golden light of the sun was like liquid gold that slowly cold down, first into orange and then a deep red as it swept over the horizon, an endless flood of dark crimson.

Finally, as the glowing ball of the sun vanished, the crimson color was replaced by the night sky. Yet, as I stared at it, I noticed for the first time how innumerable the stars were. It was almost as if the sky was filled with marbles of white, orange, and blue. I stared and stared and stared until someone stepped up to me.

“John, you all right?”

It was an acquaintance of mine, Mike Schmidt.

“You’ve been staring at the damned sky for what must’ve been a quarter of an hour. Saw you standing there, staring up when I went into the grocery store and now, you’re still here, doing the same damn thing.”

“Isn’t it beautiful, Mike?” I brought out, looking up again.

He, too, looked up for a moment before he turned back to me. “It’s the damned sky, what’s so beautiful about it?”

I opened my mouth to reply, but then I shook my head and walked away.

Even though my house was nearby, it still took me almost half an hour to get home.

Yet, as I walked in the dark, staring up at the night sky, I noticed… other things.

The darkness of the night seemed darker than usual. The shadows between the houses seemed a bit too jagged, a bit too distorted.

A few times I even thought I saw them move, stretching out from an alleyway before they retreated again. I shivered, and did the same thing I’d done as a kid, I told myself there was nothing there.

Yet, as an adult, the lie didn’t work so well anymore, wasn’t so easily believed. I knew that I couldn’t just close my eyes and will whatever I’d seen to go away. It’s because I knew, deep inside, that something was there.

And so, when I made it to my house, I looked over my shoulder once more.

What looked back at me was a creeping, shadowy figure. Long, black tendrils of purest darkness streamed from the small alleyway it was hiding in, greedily stretching out towards the buildings on either side of it. For a moment it stopped, and a pair of dark, red eyes came to rest on me.

I jerked around in terror, got out my keys, and with shivering, sweaty hands, unlocked the door and rushed inside.

As I stepped into my dark hallway, I knew I wasn’t alone. I saw the wallowing, moving darkness that washed through it. I noticed a multitude of small, glowing eyes staring at me.

In an instant, I hit the light switch and blasted the hallway in bright, burning light. The shadows retreated, crawled back to the furthest corners of the house where the light wouldn’t reach them.

I inhaled, exhaled, and stood there, shaking. Each room and each part of the house seemed to be filled with these shadowy creatures. They were lingering between furniture, hiding under the bed, and sitting atop shelves and wardrobes.

Only when I’d turned on every single light in the house did I feel safe, or at least safe enough.

There were still spots the light didn’t reach, and there I saw them crouched together, staring at me and watching my every move. I tried the childish trick again, telling myself I was alone. Yet knowledge is a powerful thing. As a kid, you can tell yourself you’re just seeing things, that it’s nothing but your imagination. But as a rational, logical adult, you can’t anymore. You know they are real.

I didn’t sleep that night, I couldn’t. I forced myself to stay awake until the sun dawned. Only then did I collapse on the bed.

When I awoke it was already late in the afternoon.

The moment I stared out the window, I almost screamed at the sight that awaited me. Then the memory of the day before returned. Terror became wonder, and I marveled at the fantastical sights and saturated colors, colors so bright it almost hurt to look at them.

Yet, even now, as I looked outside, I saw those other things. Terrible, misshapen creatures, hiding in dark corners and staring out from ghastly basement windows. They were there even during the day, waiting for the dark of the night when they could emerge.

And then something happened. As I stared at it in abject wonder, the eyes of a disgusting spidery creature focused on me. At first only for a moment before they trailed on, but then they jerked back, staring at me, probing me. In terror I watched as the thing pushed itself outward until it barely touched the sunlight, staring at me with wide, hungry eyes.

I realized what must’ve happened. It had noticed me. Not just my existence, but it had noticed that I could see it.

I jumped back and threw the curtains shut.

That day I ventured outside again. While I marveled at the beauty and all the mysterious wonders that awaited me, the more I saw of them too. The dark, hidden horrors of the world that had scared me as a kid. Those monsters under the bed, outside the window, and in our closets.

And all of them noticed me too, noticed that I saw them, and they grinned at me in a mixture of anger and anticipation. For they knew that I could see them, that I knew they were real.

I didn’t last under their oppressive eyes and before long I fled back to my home. I locked the door, turned on every single light, and retreated to my living room.

Yet, even as I sit here, even as I’m typing this, I knew they are there, and I know they are inching closer. I can see them behind the windows, vague shapes pushing against the glass. I can hear them under the couch, can see them in the dark corners of the room, and can almost feel their dark, shadowy tendrils reaching out for me.

They know I can see them and know that I understand what they are. As kids, we ignore them, pretend they aren’t real and so they move on, for they have no power over us. Yet, I, Arthur, Clara, and even old Clint, know they are indeed real.

For we are adults, we’re logical and rational beings. We know what’s real and what isn’t.

And those horrors, those horrors hiding in the shades, they don’t like it. They don’t want to be seen, don’t want to be acknowledged.

I know they are coming for me. I can hear them skittering around the room. I can hear their spidery legs, their shadowy tendrils.

It’s only a matter of time before they’ll get me. Just like they got old Clint, and just like they will get Arthur and Clara and everyone else who ever tasted that godforsaken water.

Be glad, you’ve lost your childish vision, be glad your imagination is gone. There’s wonder out there, yes, but beauty always comes with horror, with darkness, and it’s a darkness that will swallow you.

Choose Your Own Adventure

It was one of those days. You know, the ones when you feel a little lost when you’re looking for something. It’s just that you don’t know what it is. Just a nagging, little voice in the back of your head.

After all, just one of those days.

As I walked down the street, my eyes wandered here and there, to store windows, people, traffic, searching.

I sighed as I watched it all. The everyday bustle of urban life.

Then, out of the corner of my eyes, I noticed it. A little book store that sat perfectly nestled between two enormous office buildings.

I don’t know why, but my eyes came to rest on it. It was a small, cozy-looking place with a laid back atmosphere.

A few moments later, I stepped inside. I wasn’t really a reader, and neither was a collector per se. I guess I just liked to browse, and every once in a while I bought something on a whim. One of my shelves was filled with two dozen books I’d bought that way. I hadn’t bought them to read them; it was more about their titles, the covers, or the general feel they gave off.

And it was always odd books. That’s what I liked most, odd little things you could store away at your home to add just a tad bit more character to it.

The old man at the counter gave me a friendly nod.

“Looking for something specific, young man?”

“No, just browsing,” I said with a smile and continued onward.

The store was chaos. Ramshackle bookshelves lined the walls, their wood straining under an unevenly placed load. I saw novels, picture books, children’s books, and nonfiction all thrown together haphazardly with any sense or order. Here and there books littered the floor, and in certain corners, I found dusty, towering stacks of them that seemed to shake with each of my steps.

I smiled. There was a certain touch to the place.

For half an hour I wandered the store. It was bigger than I’d originally thought. There were multiple backrooms, each one more chaotic than the one before. I leafed through multiple books here and there before something caught my eye.

At the bottom of another stack of books, half-hidden behind an old reading chair, I saw a gigantic tome.

The book was bound in thick leather, but there was no indication of what it was. No words lined its spine. One by one I removed the books on top of it, but to my surprise, the cover was as empty as the spine.

When I opened it, I found it even thicker than I’d originally thought. As I went to the end of the book, I noticed that the number of pages far exceeded 2000.

What can I say, this strange book intrigued me.

As I looked through it, I noticed that each page comprised multiple, short bodies of text, neatly divided, each with its own title.

At first, I thought it was a book of anecdotes, maybe quotes or sayings by famous people. When I read one title though, I was a bit puzzled.

‘You step into the dark forest,’ one of them said.

‘You ascend the stairs,’ the one below read.

A little confused, I went on to a different page and read another one, only to find a similar title above it.

‘You eat the remains’

Even more confused, I read the text below it.

‘You carefully constructed a small fireplace from the stones around you. It takes you a few minutes, but you succeed in lighting a small fire. You carefully begin roasting the strange meat. A weird, sweet smell fills the air. Finally, the meat looks ready to eat. What do you want to do?

Eat the meat. Go to page 219.

Throw it into the fire. Go to page 811.

Leave the fire and the meat behind. Go to page 86.’

It took me a while to realize what I was holding. It had to be one of those Choose Your Own Adventure books.

I smiled a little but wondered at the sheer size of this monstrosity. A Choose Your Own Adventure book of this size? There’s no way. Maybe it came with illustrations, maps, and lists of items and enemies. Hell, maybe it was a collection of different adventures.

Yet, as I went through it, I found nothing but text. There were no maps, no illustrations, not even a division between different adventures. When I checked the first page, it was the same as the one I’d opened before. There was no table of contents, no title, nothing.

What an odd book, I thought. Odd, but interesting.

I picked it up and holding my price, I went back to the front.

When I approached, the old man looked up again. For a moment, something washed over his face, but a smile instantly replaced it.

As I put the heavy book down, the counter creaked under the weight of the book.

“Well, isn’t that something, you picked quite the book, young man.”

“It looked interesting enough.”

“Sure does, doesn’t it?”

“It’s one of those old Choose Your Own Adventure books, right?”

The old man nodded.

“So, why it’s so big?”

“Because it’s hard.”

“Hah, very funny.”

I laughed, but the old man didn’t join in.

“You ever gave it a try?”

“Sure did.”

“So what’s the deal with it?”

The old man shrugged. “There’s a reward at the end.”

“You finished it?”

The old man gave me a simple shrug.

I opened my mouth to ask another question, but then I let it slide. No reason to pester him longer than necessary.

“So, how much is it?”

The old man thought about it for a bit. “Tell you what, how about five bucks. Not like anyone’s going to come buy it any time soon, anyway.”

A little surprised about the low price, I handed him the money before I tried to shove the giant book in my backpack. It almost didn’t fit. Only after some rummaging and taking out my water bottle was I able to push it inside.

With that, I said goodbye and went on my way.

Once I was home, I opened the strange book once more. For a little while, I leafed through it before I went back to the first page and started to read the first chapter, if you can call it that.

I had to start right here, didn’t I?

To my surprise, it didn’t seem to be the beginning of the adventure, but a random part of it.

‘You hold the Desert Orb high into the air

You raise the Desert Orb towards the sky. For a moment it gleams in the hot, unforgiving sun before it crumbles in your hand. Nothing remains, but a set of thirteen colorful marbles that come to rest in front of your feet. What do you want to do?

Pick them up. Go to page 1522.

Stomp on them and destroy them. Go to page 772.

Throw them into the sky. Go to page 382.’

Great, I can play with marbles, I laughed. This wasn’t too exciting, so instead of picking any of the three choices, I went on to the next brief chapter.

The second one was even duller, talking about a flower store in a small village. Yet, the third one stood out to me.

‘You wait in the clearing

You wait in the clearing. Suddenly the Thousand-Eyed Dragon descends upon you, staring at you with its thousand eyes and basking you in their iridescent glow. The dragon closes in on you quickly. What do you want to do?

Stay and await the dragon. Go to page 522.

Pray to the Gods of the Earth. Go to page 311.

Run. Go to page 1899.’

This was more like it. As for my choice, I ran and went to the back of the book to find page 1899.

It was the fifth chapter on the page.

‘You run from the Thousand-Eyed Dragon

You hurry away as the beast approaches you. Your steps led you through the dark forest, past gnarled trees, and thick underbrush. Suddenly you fall, tripped by a root, and crash hard to the forest floor. By sheer coincidence, your hand closes around a strange, glowing object.

Pick it up. Go to page 455.

Destroy it. Go to page 390.

Ignore it and continue on your way. Go to page 111.’

I picked the object up and had to return to the earlier pages of the book.

The object turned out to be the so-called Ruby Orb. The glow of the object basked me in red light and I could faintly make out something inside. I was asked once more what I wanted to do. The first two choices were to either stare into it or simply pocket it. The third option made me lookup.

‘Push the Amulet of Roe against it. Go to page 1023.’

I read it questioningly, shrugged, and went with it. Sure, I didn’t know what the Amulet of Roe was or even if I had to find it before I picked this option, but it sounded much more interesting than the other two choices.

I searched for the corresponding page only to read I burst into flames and disintegrated.

Well, great, I thought, I just died.

I went back and pick the choice to stare into it and found out I went stock raving mad. Great, another death, I thought.

This time I pocketed the damned orb and went on my merry way.

I spent the next half hour continuing through the forest only for my character to die half a dozen times because of cryptic references I had no clue about.

It was at this point I took a break.

My stomach rumbled, and I realized I had eaten nothing since I’d made it home.

I prepared myself a simple meal, comprising a few sandwiches, and put on a movie on Netflix.

Yet as I sat in front of the TV, I couldn’t help but stare at the couch where I’d dumped the strange book. Its open pages were almost bidding me come back to it, calling out to me to continue.

I’d barely finished my meal when I was back. There was a certain kick to this thing, I had to admit. It was interesting trying to figure your way out.

Instead of continuing where I’d left off though, I went back to the confrontation with the dragon and picked choice number two, to pray to the Gods of the Earth.

To my surprise, the Gods answered, and the dragon flew off, leaving me alone. I was left to continue my adventure unobstructed. This time I didn’t enter the forest but followed a small path that led away from it.

This, however, didn’t change a damn thing. Half of my choices ended in a painful death, the other half made no sense or referred to certain objects I hadn’t yet heard about.

There was talk about The Obsidian Sword, a treasure map, a Crown of Ice, and many other, similar objects. Yet, whatever I tried, I ended up dead as often as in the forest. Hell, at one point I was even transformed into a strange snake-human hybrid. I humored the idea for a bit, but I was ultimately and quickly killed off by a group of knights I ran into.

When I followed another option, my character became infused with elemental fire, only to evaporate when I tried crossing a river.

Goddamnit, I cursed out loud. This damned book was way too hard!

Eventually, I got fed up with the damned dragon, the forest, and everything else related to it. Instead, I went to a random part in the book and started reading from there. Who knows, maybe I’d have more luck there.

When I started reading, I wrinkled my brow. My character had been an adventurer in a fantastical setting, running through forests, hiding from dragons, and traveling the land. Why was I suddenly on a… spaceship?

Either way, I picked one of the three choices only to find out that my spaceship and myself evaporated.

I went back and picked another one and followed this outlandish path for a while.

It was as hard as the fantasy one. Once again, every other option meant certain death, while the rest was filled with odd references.

At one point I was even assimilated by a hive mind. Even stranger my character didn’t outright die, but I could continue. I read a few more parts before I realized how late it had become.

Without realizing, I’d spent almost two hours with the damned book.

Still, as confusing and terribly hard as it was, it was also damned interesting. There was something about it. With all the objects and all the references, you could tell there were hidden hints everywhere. I guess you just had to understand what they meant to progress further.

I checked my phone, read a post on Reddit before I gave the book another shot.

This time, I opened it relatively close to the middle and absent-mindedly leafed through the pages for a bit. When I started to read I found myself at the home of a mage who offered me a bunch of potions, five in total. I could only drink one of them, and below was a choice for every single one of them.

I tried one and frowned when my character died again, this time because of poison.

When I read another one I was transformed into a creature of terrible power, the Thousand-Eyed Dragon.

I’d read that before, hadn’t I? That was the dragon that had attacked me in the forest! Why’d I suddenly turn into it? God, this was way too confusing.

I was about to pick another one when I noticed how late it was. Shit, I had to catch some sleep.

When I got home from work the next day, I heated some coffee and before I knew it I found myself in front of the book again.

I thought back to what I’d read before and gave the damned forest another try. Better start at a point I already knew.

This time, though, I had a plan. I’d write down the page numbers of each chapter I went through, so I had a simple way to find my way back should I get stuck.

It wasn’t long before I realized this wasn’t enough. If I wanted to have any chance of figuring this confusing book out, I’d have to map out my way entirely.

And so I started to write down not only the page numbers of the small chapters I went through, but also the choices for each one of them and the pages they sent me to. Then I’d go through all of them until I’d find a way to continue.

Yet, I quickly stumbled upon another problem. There wasn’t just a single way forward, not even two or three. While many choices ended in death, almost as many sent me off in entirely different directions, not related to one another.

For the next days, I slowly mapped out my way around the forest, the areas next to it, and eventually the small fantasy world I was supposedly in.

I can’t say why I put so much effort into it, but once I’d started, once I’d filled out the first few pages, there was this strange feeling that urged me to continue. After all, I’d done that much already, hadn’t I? There was no way I’d just stop and leave it be now.

Even more so, the book fascinated me, had me spellbound, you could say.

For the longest time, I’d done nothing. I’d stumbled through life one day at a time with no actual goal or ambition. This book actually intrigued me. I wanted to solve it.

As I continued mapping out my way, I soon realized that this adventure was even more complicated than I’d thought.

Only after I’d filled out another entire page, did I realize that the chapters and choices I was following seemed oddly familiar. When I went through my notes, I realized that I was back at a certain point I’d been at before. Without knowing it, I’d followed a freaking loop in the story. After I’d left a small town near the forest, I continued on a path that eventually led me to a waterfall and a mystical cave, only to follow up another path back to the same town.

I laughed a little. The damned book had got me. This entire freaking waterfall and cave thing was only here to throw me off. It was a loop that would continue endlessly. So, I put down a little footnote not to go to the waterfall again.

Soon enough, I realized that the waterfall wasn’t the only such loop. There were more of them. After a while I realized that some even led into one another, throwing you off even more. Without my notes, I might have very well stumbled from one loop into another without even realizing it.

Eventually, I reached a singular path I’d not been on before. After a few more choices and a few more painful deaths, I was back at the home of the magi. This time, I decided to go through all of his five potions.

I knew the first one would instantly kill me and the second one would transform me into the dragon.

Of the remaining three, one didn’t do a damn thing, and I left the mage’s home, while another killed me yet again.

It was the last one that was more interesting. After I’d downed it, I was asked if I wanted to ascend to another realm.

This time I was greeted with a plethora of choices.

Go to the Land of Never-Ending Seas, Return to the Cradle of Mankind, Take to the stars, and more than half a dozen others.

On a whim, I picked Take to the Stars.

When I went to the corresponding chapter, I suddenly found myself aboard a spaceship.

I looked up. This was the freaking spaceship I’d read about before!

As I’d noticed, this one was as strange and as hard as the fantasy world I’d been in before.

However, with my newfound way or recording my path, I could slowly progress through it.

It was by sheer accident that I stumbled upon a teleporter after my ship crash-landed on a planet.

The teleporter turned out to be similar to the mage’s potions. Each choice below represented a different button on it.

Going through the choices, I was disintegrated multiple times, sent to some sort of space prison before I made my way to a place between the realms.

Similarly to the ascension option from before, I was asked where I wanted to go. What picked my interest was the first choice, The Land of Magic and Dragons. To my surprise, I ended up standing in front of a burned down farm, the bodies of my dead parents next to me about to set out on a grand adventure. As I’d expected the choice labeled ‘Take to the Stars’ sent me back to my spaceship.

When I choose The Cradle of Mankind, I awoke in a cave, now wearing nothing but a pelt. I read two more brief chapters and realized that this was a sort of Stone Age setting.

I went back and tried to rest and realized that each and every one of them sent me to a unique setting, or a different adventure path, as I came to call them. With the three I’d already tried, there were eleven in total.

  1. The Land of Magic and Dragons – Fantasy
  2. Take to the Stars – Space
  3. The Cradle of Mankind – Stone Age
  4. The Land of the Never-ending Sea – Ocean and Pirates
  5. The Ruins of Nevrath – Desert Ruins
  6. The Peaks of the Sky – Mountains
  7. The Grand City – City-State
  8. Crossing the Rubicon – Ancient Rome
  9. The Jungles of Ulthum – Jungle Tribes
  10. Calmheim – Small Village
  11. Lesh’turath – Underwater Civilization

I just stared at my notes. This was crazy. It had taken me days to make my way through the fantasy path and another two to stumble upon this teleporter and you’re telling me there were eleven in total?

Absentmindedly, I rubbed my temples to push away the phantom pain that started at the prospect of working my way through all of them. This was way too much work.

That evening, I left the book alone and went to bed early. I was too frustrated to continue like this.

The next day though, right after work, frustration was replaced by motivation. It was almost as if a surge of dedication pulsed through me. I knew I could do this. All it would take was time, and I had more than enough of that.

I decided to try my luck with The Cradle of Mankind next. I read chapter after chapter, got eaten by a sabertooth tiger, killed by one of my tribesmen, found a magical stick, got empowered by a meteoroid, and finally I found a strange glowing object.

I went with the choice to pick it up and look at it, only to frown.

‘You stare at the strange glowing objects and within moments you realize what it is. It’s the Ruby Orb, a ghastly artifact from another realm. Only those who destroy it will learn its secret. In fear, you leave it behind and wander on.’

The Ruby Orb? I’d heard about this in the fantasy path.

I went through my stack of notes frantically. There it was, in the damned forest. I noted down the place I was at and went back to page 1899. This time I picked the option to destroy it and went to page 390.

The chapter this time was short and there was only one option at the bottom.

‘You throw the orb to the ground. With a thunderous roar, it burst and explodes into fourteen pieces. You stare at them in utter indifference before you continue.

Continue on your way. Go to page 111.’

I checked my notes. This was the same freaking page I was sent to if I didn’t even pick it up. What the hell was this bullshit? Why was there a meaningless chapter like this?

No, wait, maybe it wasn’t meaningless. There’d been something about a secret. Yet, all the chapter said was that the damned thing burst into pieces. Frustrated, I was about to return to the Stone Age path. Then I stopped.

It hadn’t said that the orb simply burst into pieces. It had said it burst into exactly fourteen pieces.

Oh, you’ve got to be freaking kidding me. I went right to page 14 of the book.

The first two chapters were completely unrelated, but the third one stood out.

‘The Secret of the Ruby Orb,’ it read.

What I found below made even less sense.

‘The secret of the Ruby Orb lies hidden between the births of two men of brilliant genius. One, a writer most famous, no other than John Milton. The other, an astronomer who would change the entire world, Galileo Galilei.’

I read it once more than a third time before I sat there, utterly confused. Why the hell was the book bringing up Milton and Galileo? This made no freaking sense! Between the births… what was that even supposed to mean?

I spent the rest of the evening trying to make sense of it. Did Milton and Galileo come up as characters in the book? But the freaking book was set in nothing but fantastical realms. At least from what I’d seen so far. Could it be that one of the more mundane sounding paths included them? If so, what was this about births?

God, none of this made any sense.

That’s what I thought until an idea popped into my mind the next day at work.

What if it was not referring to anything in the book, but their actual births?

I leaned back in my office chair, took out my phone, and googled the two men.

John Milton was born on December 9th, 1608, while Galileo Galilei was born on August 25th, 1609.

Great and how the hell… then I thought about it. The freaking years, 1608 and 1609. The damned book had far over 2000 pages. Was this damned riddle referring to certain page numbers?

But what was there going to be between two consecutive pages? For the rest of the day, I entertained other, different ideas, different scenarios, like their location of birth, but they felt even less plausible to me.

The moment I got home, I threw aside my backpack and hurried to the book on my table. I tore through the pages until I reached page 1608. I read through the text, scanned the page, the margins, but there was nothing special about it. So it had to be the next page, page 1609. Yet, when I turned it, I found a different number. I suddenly found myself on page 682.

What the hell? I turned to the page, after which turned out to be page 1609. At first, I considered it a misprint, but the text had talked about a secret hidden between them. Was this a secret page, then?

I started to read it. The page was filled with four chapters, but they differed from anything I’d read in the book so far. They were completely unrelated to the adventure.

It was just descriptions of various stars in the night sky.

Below it, there was a single line that stood out to me.

‘There are many a star in the sky, but only a few of them shine brightly.’

I sank back onto the couch. So this was supposed to be another hint. Only a few stars shine brightly, I reasoned. There had to be something about stars, about some that shone brightly!

Yet, before I went on my search for stars, I had something else on my mind, something beyond the meaning of this little saying. This very secret page here. Did it mean that even some of the pages in this book were mixed-up?

This page here was page 682. So it had to be missing where it was supposed to be, right? I instantly went back, but I found it right there. Page 628, containing normal chapters related to the adventure, preceded by page 681 and succeeded by page 683. So the secret page I’d found was a double, hidden somewhere within the book. At that moment, I wondered. What if it wasn’t the only one?

I slowly went through the next hundred pages of the book. When I was done, I’d found three more secret pages.

In sheer frustration at this new, mysterious discovery, I put the book down and cursed to myself. This was freaking useless. The more I went on, the more mysteries I found that were related to it all. How the hell was anyone supposed to solve this?

Still, a few minutes later I poured over those three secret pages. Maybe they contained a hint that would help me make sense of them.

They were all the same, though. They all talked about topics that had no connection to the adventure whatsoever. One talked about the different ages of the Earth, starting from the Precambrian. Another talked about the evolution of apes and the last one of a certain subset of plants, roses to be exact.

For a moment I tried to think of any way on how to relate those things to the adventure. There had to be some tie-in, something I hadn’t discovered yet. Maybe there would be an odd reference in one of the other adventure paths I hadn’t explored yet.

For a moment I fell back on my couch, telling myself this was impossible. What if this entire thing wasn’t even about the adventure at hand, but about cryptic references and hidden details? What if the entire adventure was nothing but a red herring, only there to hide the real clues between its text?

No, enough was enough. I had done what I could, and I would not waste any more time with this bullshit. I got up and sat down in front of my TV.

Merely half an hour had passed before I sat back in front of the book. I cursed myself for doing it, but I couldn’t help it. I’d done so much work, I thought as I stared at the stacks of notes on the couch table. No, there was no way I’d give up so easily.

Yet, at the time, I had no idea just how little I’d actually done.

I made a simple enough plan. If I wanted to get anywhere, I had to first decode all the eleven different adventure paths. It should be easy enough, I told myself. After all, it was nothing but trial and error and watching out to not be caught up in any of the useless, ever-repeating loops.

At first, I did what I’d done before. I noted down the page number, the different choices, and made references whenever I found something interesting. However, this would only work on a smaller scale. What I needed was to get a better view, a bigger picture.

And so I started to map them all out, to draw each and every individual path. I started with a normal notepad, but those pages were way too small. Even taping multiple pages together wasn’t enough. No, I needed bigger sheets of paper for this.

I was on my way to the mall a minute later and barged into the office supply store. After pestering an irritated clerk, I bought a stack of the biggest sketchpads they had available. I didn’t look twice at the price it cost me. With those and new motivation, I made my way back home.

The first thing I did was to determine the starting point of each different adventure path. This was easy enough. After that, I started with the first one, the fantasy path.

Thankfully, I only needed to copy the notes I’d already taken and turn them into a visual map of the entire path. I wrote down the very first page number, added the three choices, connected those to the next, and so on. Things got complicated quickly. I had to start over multiple times because there simply wasn’t enough space, not even on the huge sketchpads.

Before long I had to resort to taping those together as well, creating giant, confusing maps of lines and numbers. I even kept a stack of notes related to every single path, filled with all the objects, references, and hints that seemed important. When I realized my living room table wasn’t big enough, I turned to the floor before I eventually resorted to putting the giant sheets of paper up against one of my living room walls.

Over the course of the next two weeks, I mapped out all the eleven paths as well as their general connections. By then, almost my entire wall was covered by a giant, crazy mural of color-coded lines and numbers.

When I was finally done, I stepped back and had a look at it. God, there was so much. This was absolutely insane. It almost made my head spin and a nervous laugh escaped me.

I was proud, however, proud of what I’d accomplished. With this, I was close to solving this entire thing.

I had to be.

As I’d expected though, there was no actual end to the normal adventure. You either ended up back at the beginning or you ended up at one of the hubs, as I came to call them, where you could switch to a different path. There was no final, secret path and no final chapter that told you you’d made it.

That’s when I knew the solution was what I’d feared. It wasn’t on the surface, not part of the general adventure, but hidden within it.

The first of the secret pages had talked about stars. I knew what I had to do then, I had to restart my search for a reference about stars. Even though I couldn’t remember any on the fly, there had to be one. I was sure of it.

For the next day, I meticulously went through my notes, explored all the different adventure paths, but there was no hint of anything. There was no mention of stars anywhere. The word appeared nowhere in the damned book. Except, that is, on the secret page.

Then I thought of something else. That riddle about John Milton and Galileo Galilei hadn’t been related to the book. What if the mystery behind those secret pages wasn’t related to the book either? I almost laughed with misery, wondering how much more insane the book could get.

I opened up Wikipedia and quickly found a list of the brightest stars in the night sky. It was a long list, containing star after star and name after name. Well, that’s great and all, but what the hell was I supposed to do with that? The same was true for the history of the Earth, the evolution of apes, and the page about plants.

I didn’t even know what I was supposed to be looking for!

Then I took a step back, took a deep breath. Hold on for a moment, Todd, hold on, this is an old book, right? There was no information when it was published, but the book’s pages were slightly yellowed and gave off the distinct smell that only older books held. It meant the damned thing had most likely been around long before Wikipedia ever existed. I cursed and closed my browser.

Maybe it was all bullshit. What if all those freaking secret pages with their stars and apes and plants weren’t even related to the mystery? What if they were a red herring, placed in the book to throw you off and send you on another search that would lead nowhere?

Or, I thought, what if there was something else to them? What if it was similar to the overall adventure? What if it wasn’t their content, but what was hidden within it?

I instantly decided on a new approach. I had to find all those pages and look for some sort of similarity.

When I was done the next day, I’d found 53 in total. They all talked about different, obscure topics, all entirely unrelated to the adventure: plants, snakes, the moon, even micro-organisms.

I noted them all down, but I still felt like I was going in the wrong direction. Once more I told myself to take a step back. Don’t get hung up on the content. Look for something else.

Over the course of another damned week, I tried to find as many of the small riddles that led to these pages. I found a total of 21. I analyzed the hints and riddles meticulously. All were unrelated to the book, yet they only pointed to the place the pages could be found in the book. It seemed utterly useless.

When I decided to abandon this idea, at least for now, the book had been in my possession for over six weeks.

I looked up, stared at my living room wall, at the stacks of notes, and wondered what the hell I was doing. Why was I even doing it?

“There’s a reward at the end,” the old man had said, but I knew I didn’t do it because of that. No, I just wanted to solve this thing.

But, why? I asked myself.

To prove it, the little voice in the back of my head answered.

None of this is important, though. Yet the little voice protested again.

You’ve spent six weeks of your life on it already.

Yes, and that’s enough. I won’t fucking solve it anyway.

With those words still lingering on my mind, I stormed to the damned wall. I tore down the first of the many pages, the first part of the ghastly mural of insanity, and began crumbling it up.

I’d barely started when I stopped again. I looked up. So much work, it had been so much work, the little voice piped up once more.

And I knew what it was saying. What if I’d discovered something important the very next day? What if I came up with that single piece of information I needed to solve it all right after I’d destroyed it?

“No, put it back, put it back, you idiot!” I heard someone scream. For a moment I jerked around, only to realize that it was my very own voice.

I carefully got down on my knees and smoothed out the paper before I put it back with shaking hands. A sigh of relief escaped me. It was still all there. I hadn’t destroyed it.

What the hell had I been thinking?!

After this outburst I labored over the book for two more hours, sitting in front of a giant map of lines and numbers. I went through the Ancient Rome path twice, explored all the connections it had to some of the others, trying to find if there was anything there I’d missed.

Only when I looked up did I see how late it was. My eyes grew wide, and I cursed. It was past two in the morning.

Shit, I had to get up for work in three freaking hours!

Work went terrible that day. I was a sleep-deprived mess, operating on nothing but strong coffee, and two times I caught myself having dozed off in front of the computer.

“Long night, Todd?” one of my co-workers asked, giving me a little wink.

“You’ve got no idea,” I mumbled in misery. “Those freaking secret pages are driving me insane.”

“Those… what? Pages? The hell are you talking about?”

“Oh, eh, nothing. Just a, eh, movie I watched that got me thinking.”

He eyed me curiously for another second before he shrugged and walked off. Shit man, keep it together. You don’t want to end up as the office nutjob.

The freaking book was getting to me. No, the fact that I had made no freaking progress was. I felt myself getting mad just thinking about it.

“Freaking hell,” I cursed to myself and made another one of my co-workers look up.

“You okay there, Todd?” she asked.

“Yeah, just tired, made a mistake, that’s all.”

For the rest of the day, I forced myself to keep my mouth shut and not mutter about anything related to the book. Hell, I told myself not to think about it, but that was a feat of impossibility. Even as I stared at the screen, even as I went through customer reports, my thoughts were with stars and apes, with dragons and potions and freaking spaceships. I couldn’t think of any other freaking thing.

I spent the next few days in this strange purgatory of non-decision and non-hints. I had no clue what to do. I went through the book, again and again, even trying to follow the paths backward in desperation. I went through the secret pages one by one again, looking for references.

Yet, there wasn’t a damn thing to be found.

At work, as I slaved away in front of yet another Excel-document, copying and pasting customer purchase numbers I finally thought of something. Numbers.

What if it wasn’t about anything related to the text? What if it was similar to the riddles that brought me to those pages? What if the mystery behind them was related to their page numbers, or hell the page numbers in general?

Once at home I went to work. I told myself once more that I needed to get the full picture. So I went to write down all the page numbers in the book, one after another.

When I was done, I took a step back and stared at the result. Yet, there was nothing that stood out to me right away. I haphazardly picked one of the secret pages. Page 427 was in front of page 811. Then I continued.

811, 812, 813, 814, 815, 816, 817, 818, 818, 820, 821, and right after was yet another secret page.

This one was page 528.

And after that, the regular page numbers continued.

822, 823, 824, 825, 826, 827, 828, 829, 830, 831, 832, 833, 834, 835, 836, 837, 838, 839, 840, 841, 842, 843, followed by another one, page 143.

This list of ongoing numbers made me suddenly wonder. My thoughts drifted right back to what had gotten me to do this, the secret pages.

What if they weren’t placed randomly?

Yet, as I checked their distribution, it felt almost too random. I checked the number of regular pages before and after, put them in sequence, but there was no correlation.

Then I got another idea. I added up all the pages before and after, but this also made no sense. Half the results were too big and exceeded the total number of pages in the book, by far.

Then, starting at number 111 to 137, which I’d just added together, I got yet another idea. What if I only added together their last digits?

The result I came up with was 648. Which was exactly the secret page that followed afterward!

My eyes grew wide. I’d had it, hadn’t I? The hint I’d been looking for! I was going livid.

Right away I went to the next one and calculated all the preceding numbers, only to come up with an entirely different result than the page number of the secret page following. Cursing I got up.

It had been another goddamn coincidence. I laughed, but this time in abject misery, mocking my stupidity. How’d it be so damned easy, you idiot? There was no way. None of this was easy. None of it!

But as I stared at the result I’d come up with just now, I noticed something. The result of my calculation was 702. The page number was 351. Wait. Wait. Wait. That’s half of 702! Maybe it really was nothing but a coincidence and I was just grasping at straws, but what else was I to do?

The next result I came up with was 176. If I multiplied it by three, it gave me the page number of the secret page that followed it, 528. The number 715, divided by 5, gave me the page number 143 that followed it.

I continued adding, dividing, and multiplying and it all checked out. All the page numbers of the secret pages resulted from calculations of the last two digits of their preceding pages.

What does it mean though? Does it even mean anything? The exhilaration I’d felt ebbed away, and I sat there, staring at all my calculations wondering if there was any meaning to it. Yet, there had to be, right? This couldn’t have been designed as yet another red herring. This was too damned complex. No, there had to be a reason for this.

What if there was an order? If I went through all the calculations I quickly noticed that the result was never divided by the same number. The highest number that a result was divided by was 26, the highest a result was multiplied by was 27. It was exactly 53 different calculations.

With that, I started ordering them, one by one, starting backward from the highest division, to the highest multiplication. Then I put the topic of each page behind the numbers in the resulting list.

I’d hoped for something. I’d hoped to find it starting with the page about the universe, followed by constellations and stars up to the evolution of apes, plants, and other animals. Yet, it was all mixed-up nonsense. There was no order to it at all! Even when I ordered them in other ways, trying to find any sort of correlation, it was always the same. Nothing, but nonsense.

My hands started shaking as anger flooded through me. I crumbled up the stupid, ordered lists and threw them across the room. Then I cursed in sheer and utter rage. This was freaking stupid. This was insane! This was nothing at all, just pure fucking nonsense. I picked up a random object on my table and hurled it against the wall where it shattered into pieces. Then I threw aside a chair I found standing in my way and kicked over the small couch table, creating general chaos in my living room.

I was stopped from going any further when my neighbors banged against the wall, screaming to knock it off and threatening to call the cops.

That made me stop. The anger went away. I stared in shock at my living room. What the hell was happening to me? Why’d I done that? Why’d I destroyed my things at 1 am in the freaking morning?

Then I slowly smoothed out the lists I’d created and put them on one of the few free spots remaining on my living room wall. Who knows, I might need it later.

I laughed as I looked from them to the rest of the wall which was now entirely covered. Even worse were the stacks of notes that had accumulated in front of them. I was proud all right, but I also knew that this thing was absolutely insane.

Once more, I couldn’t help but wonder what I was doing.

Shaking my head, I turned around and made my way to the bedroom. Yet, as my fingers rested on the light switch, I turned around one last time. I stared at the mad lines, the mad paths who were connecting here and there. There was nothing but lines upon lines. Here and there, if I looked hard and long enough, I could almost make out shapes.

I froze. What if it was a visual puzzle? What if there was a hint hidden in the shapes of the paths?

For days I sat down, drew points and lines and connections, warping them into surreal shapes. This was crazy, wasn’t it? How’d it be visual? There’s probably not a damn thing to be got from this. This was stupid. Yet, I couldn’t stop. Each day, I spent my entire afternoon, my evening, and even half the night, drawing. And eventually, it all came to nothing. There was nothing but mad lines and not a clear shape in sight.

I didn’t give up though, wasn’t discouraged. I was beyond that, far beyond that. What if there was something else? Maybe there was a hidden code between these pages?

When I was at work, I’d completely forgotten about my former vow not to talk about the book or do anything related to it. Instead, I read up on cryptography. Going through article after article. I read up on Caesar Code and Binary Code, on the Polybius Cipher and Hex Code. I went mad with it. Before long I spent more time reading up on things than doing any of my work. Eventually, I even brought pages filled with numbers with me, cross-checking them for hits of any and all codes.

I heard co-workers whispering behind my back, asking me what I was doing and I told them, I just hadn’t closed the weird articles after break time.

They knew it wasn’t the truth. They’d heard me mumble, saw the little notebook I was writing in, noticed the endless lists of numbers I brought with me each day.

My superior eventually came up to me. He asked me what I was doing with all those weird pages. I told him it was nothing but a little puzzle.

“Well, Todd,” he started in a condescending voice. “You’re not here to do any of those ‘little puzzles’, you’re here to do your damn job. Where are the calculations for this month? I’ve been waiting for them all day.”

“Oh, I guess, I’m almost done with them, I just need another hour or-“

My voice trailed off when he picked up one of the pages I’d been looking at mere minutes ago. Suddenly, when I saw him holding it, I felt nervous.

“What even is this? It’s just random numbers.”

He saw my face, saw the way my eyes grew wide when he’d picked it up. The hint of a smile washed over his face as he crumbled it up.

He opened his mouth for another remark, but before he could I jumped up from my chair and ripped the page from his hand. He cringed back a step in shock at my reaction.

“The hell’s wrong with you?” he screamed at me, but I didn’t listen. Instead, I carefully smoothed out the paper and made sure he hadn’t torn it apart.

By now half the office had gotten up to watch the weird exchange. Only now did I realize what I’d done and how everyone was staring at me.

Suddenly I felt very watched and almost sunk back into my chair.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to,” I mumbled but broke up under the pressure of all those eyes.

“Get back to work and finish those damned calculations! If I see you tinkering with any of this shit again, you can clean out your desk!”

With that, he stormed off. I heard people whispering all around me, some laughing, others speaking in a more reserved tone.

Yep, I thought, it’s official. I’m the office nutjob.

Right away, I forced myself to close all the Wikipedia articles I had still open and put away all my notes. And then, grudgingly, annoyed and half-mad at the distraction it represented, I went back to work. Somehow though, it felt meaningless, calculating all these stupid orders and filling out this customer database. What the hell was I even doing? What if it really was a code? What if it was actually a mixture, a double-code? My mind went wild with ideas. Five minutes later, I found myself holding one of my notes again. I couldn’t even remember taking it out.

Pushing it back, cursing, and not a little afraid, I forced myself to work calculations until the day was over. At the moment my shift ended, I jumped off my chair and rushed for the door. People stared at me, looked after me, their faces a mixture of amusement and worry.

I didn’t care. I had work to do. The important kind of work!

I’d just tried to find another connection between the page numbers of the secret pages when my doorbell rang. I ignored it, but it just kept ringing. When it finally stopped, I sighed in relief. Just leave me alone, I cursed, I’ve got work to do.

Then, mere moments later, my phone vibrated on the other end of the room. Dammit, I’d forgotten to mute it again. I waited for it to stop, but it started up right away. Cursing I went over to see who it was and noticed the name instantly.

It was my friend Andrew. Annoyed, I answered it.

“Yo, Todd, you home?” I heard his voice from the phone next to my ear and more distant, muffled from the front door.

My first reaction was one of annoyance. Then I pushed the thought away. What the hell was wrong with me? This was Andrew. He was my best friend, the only one of our old group who still lived in the same city. Right away, I thought about how long I’d last seen him. Surprised I realized that it must’ve been weeks. One glance at the mad mess in my living room told me why.

“Yeah, sure hold on,” I said over the phone and made my way to the front door.

Andrew smiled at me brightly and held up to six-packs.

“Haven’t seen you in forever, how about we have a few! I got quite the story for you, my man!”

I smiled at him. “Sure, come on in.”

We made our way inside and Andrew had barely set foot into my living room when he stopped. His eyes grew wide as he stared at the wall and the stacks of paper all over the place.

“Holy shit man. I was wondering why I haven’t heard from you. The hell’s all that? You working on some sort of project?”

“Kind of,” I mumbled a little embarrassed.

I quickly picked up the papers on the couch and put them aside to make room for him to sit.

“Sorry about the mess.”

“Nah man, it’s all right. So, the thing I was about to tell you, you remember Thomas, right?”

Thomas, I thought. Did I know a Thomas? Then I remembered him. Of course, I remembered him, he’d been part of our group. I rubbed my temples for a second before I nodded.

“He’s getting married and you won’t believe who the lucky girl is!”

With that, Andrew told me the entire story of how our friend Thomas had been dating Susan, Andrew’s cousin for the past three months, and the two of them had decided to get married. I listened, nodded here and there, even laughed a few times absentmindedly, but my eyes wandered to my notes again and again.

For a moment I spaced out entirely, thinking about an idea that had popped into my mind just before he’d arrived. What if there was something about number sequences? I must’ve sat there for an entire minute, simply holding my beer and staring off at nothing when Andrew waved his hand in front of my face.

“Yo, dude, you listening?”

“What? Oh, sorry, no, I think I spaced out for a moment.”

“All right, man, I got to ask, what’s all this? What sort of crazy thing are you working on? Haven’t seen you this into something in years.”

I smiled at him awkwardly and then sighed and pointed at the book.

“It’s one of those Choose Your Own Adventure books,” I started.

With that, the flood gates broke open, and I told him all about it.

He listened, at first curiously, but after a while, his face changed. There was visible concern, as I rambled on about secret pages, strange objects, and cryptography.

“Todd, hold on, hold on, what the hell are you even talking about?”

I stared at him.

“The book. You know those secret pages must’ve some sort of meaning. At first, I thought there was a simple order to them, but it was too chaotic. If you add up all their page numbers though, you get 20670, and if you divided this up by-“

“All right, man, stop,” he cut me off. “So you’re adding up all those numbers, I get that, but for what?”

I began explaining again, I tried, but he couldn’t follow me.

“Yeah, I don’t get it, man. Just, what the fuck?”

“All right, look,” I said and walked over to the wall covered in lines and numbers and started once more.

I told him about the different adventure paths, the references, the secret pages, and when and how they appeared.

His face was blank as I rambled on and on and on.

“Yo, dude, you might want to take a bit of a break, this sounds, well, a bit crazy.”

For a moment I was quiet, then a short, nervous laugh escaped me.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

He stepped up next to me, staring at the wall.

“Shit man, you did all this? Just for a damned book?”

Before I could answer, he reached out and was about to take one of the pages off the wall. My hand shot forward instinctively, batting his aside.

“Don’t touch it!” I called out before I realized what I’d done.

Andrew stumbled back a few steps, shocked. “Shit man, sorry, I didn’t mean to-“

And then it happened. I didn’t even listen to his words anymore as he bumped against some of the stacks of notes I’d placed neatly in front of the wall. They toppled over one another, the pages scattering all over the floor and intermixing.

My eyes grew wide. Oh god, no, freaking god no. Anger rose in me. It had taken me so goddamn long to sort them all out, to order them. There was a freaking method to it all and now he’d destroyed it. He’d destroyed the work of entire fucking days!

“What the fuck are you doing?” I screamed at him.

He cringed back, only now realizing what had happened.

“Hey, didn’t mean to,” he said and began picking up random pages.

I ripped them from his hand and pushed him back. “No, don’t fucking touch them. Those two don’t belong together you idiot! Are you freaking insane?!”

With an empty face, he watched as I gathered up some of the pages, stared at them, and began sorting them as best as I could.

“You know, Todd, that’s what I should ask you.”

“What the hell do you mean?” I snapped at him. “You destroyed the work of days! Days! This is-“

“This is what, man?” he cut me off once more. “It’s nonsense. It’s a freaking children’s book, nothing else.”

That did the trick. I got up and stepped up right in front of him.

“Nonsense? You’ve got no FUCKING idea, how far I’ve come! You’ve got no clue what’ve done already! And here you are telling me this is NONSENSE?”

His face had grown hard. For a second he was about to say something, but then he simply shook his head and laughed. Without another word, he picked up his things, the beer, and left.

If he said any words in parting, I didn’t hear them. I was already busy re-ordering my notes.

It was hours later, when I was done sorting them all out, that I realized what I’d done and how I’d acted.

For the first time, I grew truly scared.

That hadn’t been normal. That wasn’t me. Why’d I gone crazy like this?

I took first one step back from the wall, then another before I went to pick up my phone. When I tried to call Andrew, he didn’t pick up. Instead, the call went straight to voice mail. Then I saw how late it was, long past three in the morning.

I wrote him a quick message, apologized for my behavior, and told him he was right. I should take a break from this entire thing.

That’s what I did right away. I picked up my laptop, made my way to the bedroom, and this time I turned off the light without looking over my shoulder.

I lay down on my bed and started browsing YouTube and told myself to just enjoy it and take a break.

Yet, even as I watched video after video, the little voice in the back of my head spoke up again. It told me I should go on, told me to go back to the living room.

You almost had it, Todd, you almost had it. Just one more hint and you’re done with it. Then you can let it go and you can-

“Shut up, goddamnit!” I screamed at myself to quiet the subconscious voice in the back of my head.

“I freaking know,” I said quieter. “God, I freaking know.”

I sat in bed, the video that was playing already forgotten. As video, after video played, I was on my phone, checking stars and numbers before I eventually drifted off to sleep.

The next morning I didn’t even get to make myself a coffee. I was mad, pissed off and I wanted to finally make progress. For a while, I tinkered about the various codes I’d read about. What if there was a code, but what but if it concerned the entire book and not just the secret pages? What if it was related to the adventure after all? Maybe you could scramble up page numbers and-

I stopped and rubbed my temples. Calm down, don’t go crazy. Calm down and take a step back. You don’t even know if there are any damned codes hidden in the book. You did well deciphering all the different adventure paths and the connections between them. You did well discovering all the secret pages. But what if there’s something you haven’t discovered yet?

That was the question that told me what I had to do. Something I hadn’t dared to do so far.

I had to go through the entire book.

I had to make my way through it not following the adventure, but going page by page and look out for anything new. There might be chapters I hadn’t discovered yet, hadn’t read yet.

With newfound energy and a new plan, I started right away.

My phone rang shortly after noon, but this time, I didn’t even bother with it. I just ignored it. After all, I had more important things to do.

This time I didn’t just write down chapters, choices, and connections. This time I wrote down every single thing that came up. I took note of every single object that was mentioned then added the page number, the corresponding path, and any reference I knew about it.

It was a momentous task. I spent the entire day doing it and barely made it through the first 130 pages.

The next day, Sunday, I didn’t even finish another hundred. The further I came, the more objects I noticed, the more combinations, and references. At times, I even had to go back, to cross-check things, and to change notes accordingly.

It was the most enduring task I’d ever attempted, concerning this damned book and probably my entire life.

It took me weeks. I finished stacks upon stacks of notes. I went to the office supply store multiple times a week buying stacks of papers I ended up filling by the day.

Work during this time was barely an afterthought. I was barely functioning at all. I was typing in numbers and names almost on autopilot. By now I didn’t even get stares anymore. I was entirely ignored, a shell of a man, a ghost that stumbled to his cubicle in the morning and rushed back home in the evening.

Days went by, then weeks, as I slaved away over the book’s many pages. Until one day, when I was finally done. I can’t even say how many weeks I’d been at it.

There were stacks of hundreds of papers, maybe even more. Notes, references, objects, names, words, anything basically.

I’d just created a table of how often each and every single object appeared and in which setting when I noticed a new hint. I stared at it with a giant grin on my face.

The Ruby Orb had been the very first object I’d added to the table.

It appeared in all paths:

  1. Fantasy – 31 times
  2. Space – 3 times
  3. Stone Age – 2 times
  4. Ocean and Pirates – 11 times
  5. Desert Ruins – 29 times
  6. Mountains – 17 times
  7. City-State – 7 times
  8. Ancient Rome – 5 times
  9. Jungle Tribes – 13 times
  10. Small Village – 19 times
  11. Underwater Civilization – 23 times

As I wrote those numbers down, there was something about them. Somehow I knew those numbers. I went over them, staring at them for a while before it hit me.

I cross-checked it online, and I was right. They were all prime numbers! Yes, I thought, I’d found something new!

I quickly rechecked another object, the Desert Orb, and realized it was the same here, too. This one’s appearances made up a simpler sequence. It only appeared once in the city-state, twice in fantasy, and finally 11 times in the desert ruins.

I couldn’t help but grin. I did it for another object, this one the Ebony Stick. It too appeared in all paths and its number was increased by two, starting at 4 and going up to 26.

That’s when I knew what I had to do. I had to go through all the objects, all the hundreds of objects in the damned book, and check how often they appeared. There was a correlation, another part of the puzzle. I was exhilarated, in a state of glee and unbound excitement.

These number sequences, maybe they were the key to figuring out what the secret pages meant, or maybe the page numbers in general. I started laughing. I could feel it, I was so damn close.

I slept when necessary, ate when necessary, right there on the living room floor. It was only once that I thought about work, only in passing, and the idea that I should go never even came to my mind.

My phone was at the other and of the room. I ignored it entirely during that time. It wasn’t important. This right here, that’s what was important.

I was done by the end of the week. It was long past midnight on Saturday when I’d finally deciphered the number sequences of all 311 objects in the book.

When I was done with my work, I looked at the tables of objects in a state of awe. I spread them out in front of me and marveled at the dozen or so pages. For a moment I was about to dive into them when I realized how tired I was.

For the first time since the beginning of the week, I picked up my phone. It was off, must’ve been for days. I connected it to the charger and turned it on. I was bombarded with a plethora of notifications. For almost a minute the damned thing started ringing and vibrating.

There were a few messages from Andrew, asking how I was doing and if I’d stopped with my damned obsession yet. I laughed and closed the chat.

I’d also received countless emails. Most of them were from work and only now did I remember that I hadn’t shown up for an entire week. They started normal enough, reminding me to call if I was sick, became reproachful after a day or two, and finally angry. The last one told me this was the last straw. I should come in on Monday for a talk and be prepared to clean out my desk.

It was strange how little I felt about it, how little it mattered in the grander scale of things. I almost laughed again as I threw the phone aside and laid down to catch some sleep.

When I woke up, I went right back to work. I tinkered with the number sequences, looked at each one of them, added them up, multiplied, and divided them.

It was the Crown of Ice that finally made me look up. When I added all its appearances together, I came to a total of 1000. This damned thing, I thought, it was by far the most common object in the damned book.

I started to read up on it in my notes. It was said in the Manuscript of the Seven Seas, that the Crown of Ice was found in the Crypt of the Dragon. The Crypt of the Dragon was located in the desert ruins.

I went back to it, page 1544, and read the part again. There were three choices. One sent me to leave without the crown and sent me back to a desert tribe. Destroying the crown ended in painful death while the third option was wearing it.

All right, wearing the crown opened a secret passage that sent me to the location of the Magic Water and from there back on my way through the desert.

Dammit, I thought I had something! I was about to go back to the list. Maybe the number thousand was another coincidence.

Then something made me look up. The crown appeared in the desert ruins a total of 53 times. I thought about it. The desert ruins one was by far the shortest path. How long was it in total again?

I stepped up to my living room wall and counted the chapters. When I followed them, there was only a single path that was longer than 50. It came to a total length of 78 chapters before it started from the beginning.

Chapter 53 described what you found if you opened a chest hidden in the Ancient Pyramid.

I read the entire chapter again. It was titled ‘The Treasure Chest.’ There was a total of 289 gold coins in the chest. When I went back to the list of objects, I noticed that the gold coin was mentioned a total of 289 times. The same was true for the sparkling diamonds. There were a total of 33 in the chest and the object itself came up 33 times in the book.

I almost laughed when I noticed that it was true for the third object in the chest as well.

I got an empty page and like a child, I wrote the words Chest, Pyramid, and Treasure in huge letters at the top of it before I went and added all the two dozen objects in the chest.

While I did it, I wondered if there was something like this for every other object in the book. What if every object’s number of appearances was mentioned somewhere in the book? Not just in this chest, but just somewhere.

And then, on a whim, I asked myself another question. What if certain objects didn’t? What if there were just a few or maybe just one whose number was mentioned nowhere? Maybe those were the important ones!

For the entirety of Sunday, I followed through with this idea. I calculated, I added objects to yet more lists, I followed through paths and loops, studied my notes, and slowly, the number of objects remaining got smaller and smaller.

Eventually, just as I’d hoped, there was a single object whose total number of appearances was mentioned nowhere. It was a small, red die. One that was mentioned here and there, only in passing when people played a game of dice in bars or the streets.

There had to be something to this damned thing, I knew it! After this entire week, no after all these entire months, I finally had something, I’d finally narrowed it all down to a single object.

A shiver went down my spine when I realized that this might be it. This might be the solution that I’d been searching for all this time!

I went back to my notes about the red die and all its appearances. Here a few kids were playing with it in the streets, there was someone holding it in their hand, and here it rolled onto the floor when a fight broke out.

Finally, I found what I’d been looking for. There was only a single instance in the entire book where you could interact with it. It was in a bar in space where you could join a futuristic game of dice.

When the game was done, you could pocket the red die.

The short chapter that followed it was mundane and almost unimportant. But when I read it, I noticed something else, not in the text, but the choices below. Weren’t they the same as in the chapter before?

I went back to the preceding page and reread it. Yes, the same two choices, sending you to the same two pages. Almost as if picking up the die didn’t matter at all. Making it appear as nothing but a red herring.

And I grinned. I grinned wider than I had ever before.

There had to be a hint here, no, there had to be a way of finishing this entire damn thing.

I wrote down the entire paragraph and went back to work, studying it. I checked everything that was mentioned in it: the page number, the chapter title, colors, words, anything I could think of. Until late in the morning hours, I pondered over this one, single paragraph.

I could barely keep my eyes open when I stumbled upon it. It was silly, but I exploded with joy and was suddenly wide awake again.

The number of words in each sentence was eight. The number of sentences was eight as well. There were eight sentences here, with eight words each. This was no coincidence. This was it, the total number of words was 64, the square number of eight. There was too much here for it to be a coincidence.

I rushed back to the buck, almost stumbled over my feet, and threw open page 64. Like a crazed, starved animal I poured over the words on the page, almost pressing my face against it. The chapters, there had to be something here, the solution had to be right in front of me.

Yet when I was done reading it, I was dumbfounded. The entire page comprised a single chapter, a chapter I knew damn well. And I realized that I knew the number 64 damn well, too.

I was at the beginning of the fantasy setting. I read once more that I was a young farmer, standing in front of a burned down far, the bodies of his dead parents next to him and that I was about to set out on a grand adventure.

For the next three hours, I analyzed every single word in the paragraph, every single one and I found as many hints as I could search for. I went back to the die paragraph and slowly I came to another conclusion and then another. The number of certain letters corresponded with the number of other objects in the space path. If you put certain letters from certain words together you ended up with yet another number. I followed every single one of them, but each one ended at another mundane position in the book. I slaved away over those as well, reached and analyzed them and I found more hints, more connections, more clues. And the longer and the more deeply I analyzed them, the more I could find, if only I wanted to. There was almost an endless number of nonsensical clues and hints if you wanted so. They were all leading me on, leading me around in a circle, on and on and on and on.

And I sat there, over the damned book, over hundreds, if not thousands of pages of notes. I sat in front of an entire wall covered in information and I laughed. For long, terrible minutes I couldn’t stop laughing.

This was all crazy. This was all entirely and utterly crazy.

And finally, it clicked. At this singular moment it finally and ultimately clicked.

There was no solution. The book had no solution. It finally made sense.

I’d slaved away for weeks, no for months, and all I’d done was to walk in circles, continue from one hint to another, only to be sent back to the beginning. The entire damned book was a loop, a loop of loops with secret loops that sent you to more secret loops.

And then, for the first time in months, I closed the book and put it away.

After that, I slowly went and took down all the mad pages from my wall, stacked up all the notes, and put them together in a box in an almost apathetic state.

I was done.

All of this had been utterly meaningless, a fundamental waste of time.

That night, I didn’t sleep. I lay in bed, contemplating a lot of things. My life, my work, the book, and why I’d been so taken by it. Yet, as with the book, there was no solution. There was nothing to it all.

The next day, with the book in my backpack, I made my way back to the store.

It felt as heavy as the world, an endless number of possibilities all resting on my back.

I knew I had to return it, I had to get rid of it before it might throw me into another crazy fit.

When I entered the store, the old man looked up.

“Can I help you with,” he started but broke up, a surprised look on his face.

“Well hello there, young man. Haven’t seen you in quite a while.”

I only nodded, took down my backpack, heaved out the book, and brought it to a rest in front of him.

“I’d like to return this.”

The old man probed me for a moment.

“We’ve got a no-money-back policy,” he said and pointed at a small, almost illegible sign behind himself.

“Yeah, that’s fine, I just want to get rid of it. I’m done with it.”

“So, you got your reward then?”

I couldn’t help but laugh a little. “Guess so.”

“What was it?” the old man asked curiously.

“It’s meaningless, there’s no end to it. It just goes on forever.”

“Oh,” he mouthed with an expression of surprise.

“You ever tried it yourself, old man?”

“Did once, when I was younger, but I got nowhere. Was too damned hard for me.”

“There’s one thing I’m wondering about. Who the hell wrote a thing like this? I mean, it’s freaking insane. How’d’you ever write something like this?”

“Well, to tell you the truth, there’s something I didn’t tell you when you first came in. I originally bought the book from a street merchant, half a century ago. He told me a few things, and I learned a few more over the years from other people.”

“Like what?”

“There’s nothing but rumors of course. The merchant told me it was written by the Devil himself. Then someone told me it was supposedly written by Machiavelli back in the day, to confuse a man who’d wronged him and drive him mad. There was also a guy who was convinced it was the work of aliens. The most plausible thing I heard is that there’s no single author, but that it was written over the course of centuries, with each new writer adding to it and extending it, making it better and ever more complicated.”

“Heh, sounds about-“ I started, but the old man raised a hand and pushed his head forward, towards me.

“There’s one more. Someone else told me it was written by no other than God himself as a big, giant joke about our earthly existence itself.”

I laughed, but it was a weak laugh. Nothing but a giant joke, that fit it damn well, didn’t it?

And as I stepped out of the store and stared at the city surrounding me, watching the urban bustle, I began thinking.

People were hurrying past me, on their way to work, cars and buses rushed down the streets. As I watched it all, this ever-repeating bustle of civilization, I realized that it was all another never-ending loop. On and on and on we all went, doing the same thing over and over and over again.

And as I walked on I started laughing. Maybe that was all right and maybe it didn’t matter. Who knows, maybe the book was true.

Maybe all of this, all of life, all of existence, just like the damned book, was nothing but God’s big, giant joke.

Jerold’s Wait

Jerold was sitting in the same chair, at the same window, staring outside, waiting.

The first snow was falling, and he remembered the time when he’d played out there with the neighborhood kids all those years ago. He remembered it so vividly that afternoon.

The sun had been bright, just like today, but its light didn’t reach him. Not anymore. Not up here, in this ghastly room.

He didn’t even notice the single tear that streamed from one of his eyes. Thick, yellow, and almost syrupy, it carved a path down his sunken cheek.

The shaking came over him like an avalanche, burying his thoughts. The pain that follows was worse, cutting through him hot and ragged.

It lasted for almost a quarter of an hour.

The third time since noon, the seventh since he awoke this morning. It’s gotten so much worse this past year.

“You there?” he called out when as he watched the few lonely snowflakes twirling through the air.

“Of course,” a rattling voice reached him.

“So, is it finally time?”

The voice behind him turned into guttural giggling.

“No, Jerold, you aren’t ready yet.”

“Oh goddammit, I’ve been ready for the past three years! I’m ready now, so why don’t you just take me already?”

“Were they ready, Jerold?”

He was about to reply, but a terrible, wet cough rattled through his body, shaking every brittle bone in it.

“Damn you!” he screamed, but he got no reaction to his outburst.

He tried to dig his fingers into the armrest, tried to will himself to get up, but, however much he tried, there was nothing. He had no energy left, no muscles to serve him.

And so he stayed where he was, in his terrible, lonely prison.

Slowly anger rose inside of him, burning anger, fiery, hotter even than the pain he’d felt mere moments ago.

“Why don’t you just take me already?” he screamed at the quiet room.

“You know why, Jerold,” a bodiless, grim voice whispered into his ear.

“Yes, I know, but I couldn’t help it! I tried, but couldn’t wait anymore, I just couldn’t.”

“You murdered them, Jerold. Three little boys, whose life you cut short that afternoon,” the voice continued.

“I know, goddammit, I know! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, so take me already! Just, please, please let me move on!”

“No Jerold, you’ll wait and you’ll continue to wait. For I’m going to let you live in their stead. What time you took from them, I’ll added to yours,” the voice trailed off, a hint of devilish glee hidden behind its words.

“I shouldn’t even be alive anymore! The heart attack, the cancer, this rotting body here, there’s-“

But he broke up, for he knew he was gone again.

Once more, the Reaper had abandoned him, and once more he’d left his soul to linger in his own rotten body for yet another year.

The Rules – Instructions on How to Succeed at Cat Sitting

My friend Josh was my polar opposite. He was a young successful entrepreneur and, frankly said, filthy rich.

I on the other hand was a perpetual failure, who lived in a small one-room apartment, always looking to make it to the end of the month.

While Josh owned a flourishing online business, I drifted from one odd job to another.

Why’s any of this important, you might wonder? Well, it was no other than Josh who left me with this weird set of rules.

It was about two weeks ago that he had to leave for another one of his business trips and needed someone to not only sit his house but take care of his cats. Josh owned four of the little buggers, all special breeds and exotic.

He came up to me because he knew my situation had taken a turn for the worse because of Covid-19. I was behind on rent, bills kept stacking up, and finding work was harder than ever.

Josh offered me a fair amount of money, enough to last me for an entire month, and I eventually relented and accepted his offer.

Every single time I arrived at his house, I was awestruck. It was a beautiful, two-story building that he’d bought a couple of years back and renovated from the ground up. There was probably more modern technology in his home than in the rest of the entire neighborhood.

Josh didn’t just own a smart TV or smart lights. He had an entire smart living room, a smart kitchen with a smart coffee machine, and even a freaking smart toilet.

I didn’t even know half the stuff he owned existed and wondered why he’d need the other half. Josh, however, loved everything new, shiny, and smart.

When I arrived, he offered me a bottle of imported crafts beer and led me inside. He told me the couch was all mine, I could roam the place as I saw fit, but his office was off-limits. Josh was very particular about this stuff, and I didn’t see any reason to intrude.

After those first instructions, he introduced me to his cats right away. There was an older Bengal, an Egyptian Mau, a Cornish Rex, and a recently acquired Savannah kitten. To be honest, I only remember the different breeds because of his list of notes. I was never a cat person. No, to be honest, I was never a pet person.

Once he’d told me all their names, which I’d forgotten the moment he’d left, he handed me an envelope containing his instructions about the cats. Or as he called it, ‘The Rules.’

He gave me a little wink and told me to only open them once I’d left. I rolled my eyes but gave him a little laugh.

Josh was not only a weirdo, but he’d always been a very immature and childish person. I could already tell that his so-called rules were most likely nothing but bullshit.

Still, I humored his antics and put it away on the couch table for now.

Josh told me about a few more things about the house before he handed me the money and went on his way.

Once I’d gotten myself settled, I got myself another one of his crafts beers and sat down in his lavish living room to read ‘The Rules.’

I was prepared to find the envelope filled with nothing but a silly picture, but to my surprise, it actually contained a list of rules.

The Rules – Instructions on How to Succeed at Cat Sitting

1. Feed the cats twice a day, at 8 am and 8 pm. DON’T be late.

2. Always measure the amount of food using a measuring cup following the instructions on page two.

3. Each cat has their own special food, following a strict diet plan. DON’T mix up the food and leave their feeding bowls at their respective places.

I rolled my eyes at his damn peculiarities. They are freaking cats, why’s all this stuff so important?

4. If the TV turns on at 10:23 pm on a random channel, leave it on. DON’T turn it off before 10:48 pm.

When I read this one I stared at the list for a moment before I chuckled. Really, Josh? Cryptic, obscure rules? God, this was too silly, even for him.

5. The cats need to be groomed every other day. Check the instructions on page three for more information.

6. If the lights turn on in random rooms of the house, DON’T turn them off until the following morning.

7. Should you take out the trash, ALWAYS use the dumpster on the far right. ALWAYS make sure to close it. NEVER open the one on the left.

Yeah, this was getting stupid. It was obvious what was going on here, and for a second I was about to crumble up this stupid list and throw it away. Then I went to read on. Who knows there might still be something important between all the bullshit?

8. There’s an outdoor kennel for the cats. Make sure to let them go out in the afternoon.

9. If you hear strange after 11 pm, ignore them and DON’T try to figure out their origin. Just stay in the living room. Again, DON’T try to figure out where they come from.

10. There might be noises coming from the office at random times during the night. DON’T enter at any time. The noises will soon stop again.

11. Each of the cats has a specific nutrient mixture that should be added to their water bowls. Check page two for more instructions. Try not to forget about it.

12. If you hear a knock against the window, you must ignore it. DON’T let anyone in. She will leave again if you ignore her.

13. DON’T use the oven after 10 pm. It’s a little too smart for its own good. Trust me on that one.

14. Ignore any voices you hear throughout the house. There’s no one else there. DON’T investigate. They will stop eventually.

15. The beer’s all yours, but try not to get wasted and break things.

Once done, I couldn’t help but laugh. This was so typical for Josh.

I put the list aside and checked out pages two and three. They were filled with detailed information about each cat. With a sigh, I went through them, trying to understand what the hell I was even supposed to do.

Once I was done, it was almost noon.

I checked out the feeding and water bowls, but Josh had filled them up. So, I didn’t have to do anything except letting the cats out in the afternoon and feeding them in the evening.

The first day at Josh’s place was amazing.

I’d said before that I never knew why he had all those gadgets, but after a couple of hours at his house, I could see the appeal. I could call out any song I wanted, and it was played instantly on his amazing 5.1 sound system. I could turn on and off lights with nothing but a wave of my hand and don’t get me started on his toilet.

As the hours passed, I watched Netflix on his giant movie projector and drank a few more of the crafts beers. Man, this was a life I could get used to. Some of the cats joined me at random intervals throughout the day, eyeing their new roommate curiously.

Once it was evening, I followed Josh’s instructions and refilled the cat’s feeding bowls. It was actually harder than I expected. I was quite tipsy by that point and Josh owned a plethora of different cat food and nutrient mixes. In the end, though, I got everything right, at least I think so.

I’d just sat down for yet another movie when I heard sounds from the second floor. It was quiet and barely audible while the movie was playing.

At first, I thought it was one of the cats, but when I turned the movie off I realized that it was a voice, a woman’s. A shiver went down my spine. As I listened, it almost sounded like someone was counting.

I went from the living room to the stairs and listened.

“… seventeen, sixteen, fifteen, fourteen…” and on it went.

Needless to say, I was damn confused and not just a little scared about what was going on.

“Hello? Is anyone there?” I called out, but I got no answer. Instead, the numbers continued to decrease until they reached zero. At this point, the voice stopped and silence returned.

I swallowed and after another minute had passed, I carefully ascended the stairs. There was no one there, though. All I saw was an empty hallway. I didn’t know what I’d expected, and I wasn’t sure if I should be relieved or not.

Right at that moment, I remembered his list of rules and returned to the living room.

There it was, the last one on the list:

14. Ignore any voices you hear throughout the house. There’s no one else there. DON’T investigate. They will stop eventually.

All right, I told myself, this was bullshit. It was most likely a recording that was being played somewhere up there.

With another beer as mental support, I went back upstairs. As I checked the walls though, I found no hint of speakers or a radio.

I was about to open one of the doors when I saw a light flickering on and off in a room at the back of the hallway.

Fuck this, I told myself. I didn’t know what the hell was going on, but I sure as hell didn’t want to mess with any of it.

It was nothing. Probably a malfunctioning light.

Still, when I returned to the living room, I checked every corner of the room before I settled back on the couch. For the first time since I’d arrived, I was happy to see the cats nearby. At least I didn’t have the sleep alone here all by myself.

When my phone woke me at 7 am the next morning, my head was slightly throbbing. I made my way to the kitchen and instructed Josh’s coffee machine to mix me one of its strongest options.

With the blackest coffee I’d ever seen in my entire life, I made my way to the feeding bowls. The cats followed me but kept a clear distance from me.

The moment I took out the food, though, they became much friendlier. Oh, I knew what was going on here, you deceitful little creatures.

There was nothing special happening on the second day. I spent most of it either in the living room or exploring Josh’s home. In the evening I found my way into his small, private library. It was filled with books on self-improvement and a sheer endless amount of business manuals.

Eventually, I discovered a collection of the works of M. C. Escher, hidden between some obscure work of eastern philosophy and a biography of Jay Gould.

I took the Escher book with me to the living room, instructed Alexa to play some ambient music, and went through the book.

Something was fascinating about Escher’s work. While I was busy studying yet another one of his optical illusions, the room was suddenly flooded by the light of the TV. I jerked up and stared at it. It was set to a random channel, showing nothing but static.

How the hell had the damn thing turned on? I checked if I’d sat on the remote or if any of the cats had been toying with it, but I found it resting on the couch table.

I reached out for it and was about to turn the TV back off when I saw the list of rules lying nearby. Hadn’t there been something about the TV on there?

I found the one I’d been looking for right away.

4. ‘If the TV turns on at 10:23 pm on a random channel, leave it on and DON’T turn it off before 10:48 pm.’

When I checked the clock, I saw that it was now 10:25 pm. Oh, you’ve got to be freaking kidding me.

For a moment I was about to say fuck it and turn it off, but then I remembered the weird voice from last night.

I told myself again nothing was going on. Just another error in the settings. Still, there was this quiet, little voice in the back of my mind asking me ‘What if?’

Grumbling, I put the remote down again and tried my best to ignore the annoying static. Once it was close to 11 pm, I decided it was safe enough to turn it off again and go to sleep.

Thus ended my second day at Josh’s home.

Over the next days, more strange things happened all around the house. I was still telling myself it was all a malfunction or a coincidence. Hell, maybe Josh fucking with me, but that quiet voice in the back of my mind wasn’t so quiet anymore.

Every day I found the lights on in random rooms, rooms I hadn’t even set foot in yet. At other times, I heard the strange voice again, always counting down to zero.

I tried to call Josh but I couldn’t seem to reach him. When I sent him a message about the weird occurrences, all I got back was a simple ‘Just follow the rules and everything’s fine.’

I cursed at that and almost threw my phone against the wall. To be honest, I almost noped the fuck out of his house by the fourth day. Real or not, this was all a little too weird, and it was getting to me.

The problem was, Josh trusted me, and hell, he’d paid me a fair amount of money to take care of his house and the cats.

So, I stayed.

It was by day five that things took a turn for the worse and I should come to regret my decision.

I was in the living room, browsing Reddit when noises reached my ear yet again. This time it wasn’t the counting voice, though. Instead, it sounded like someone was banging against the walls. Each bang made me jerk up, and eventually I had enough of this shit.

This stops now, I told myself. As I made my way to the stairs, I got another idea. What if Josh had instructed another one of his friends to sneak in and fuck with me? It was a silly idea, but I wouldn’t put it past him.

More angry than afraid, I made my way up the stairs and soon located the source of the noise. It was coming from his office.

I remembered his words. Hell, I remembered the freaking rule about the office, but I didn’t give a shit anymore.

“All right, whoever the fuck you are, knock it off!” I cursed.

“If Josh put you up for this to fuck with me, well done, you got me ha ha!”

The banging continued, but soon I heard something else. It was crying, muffled crying.

“What the fuck,” I pressed out.

“… help me…” I heard a quiet, muffled voice from inside the office.

My eyes grew wide and an icy shiver went down my spine.

It was Josh’s voice.

“… please, this guy broke in and locked me up here…”

The voice went quiet again. Once more the crying started before labored breathing replaced it.

“Josh…? What the fuck?”

I got no answer. All I heard instead was more of the labored breathing coming from inside.

I didn’t even think about the rules anymore. Something strange was going on here, something very fucking strange.

I took a deep breath before I put my hand on the door handle and ripped open the door. What I found inside the office was absolutely nothing.

There was his desk, his computer, his whiteboard, books, and papers, but nothing else. The light was off, no one was inside, and nothing was in disarray.

Then, as I stared at the empty room in front of me, all the lights in the house turned on in unison only to flicker out moments later.

Needless to say, this freaked me the fuck out.

I threw the door to the office shut, hurried downstairs, and booked it out of the house.

Once outside, I could’ve sworn I saw lights turning on and off in random rooms of the house. Almost as if someone… or something was rushing through it, searching it.

I went straight home after this. The moment I’d locked my front door, I sent Josh a message asking him what the fuck was going on. All I got was yet another short, obscure message.

‘You said you opened the door?’

‘Yes, what the fuck does that even matter?’

‘Shit man, I told you to leave it be and NOT open it. Well, nothing to do now. She won’t go after the cats, and by tomorrow things should be normal again. You closed the door, right?’

‘What the fuck are you even talking about? The hell’s the matter with your damn place!? Please tell me this is all one of your stupid pranks and you’re fucking with me!’

This time no reply arrived. Instead, he called me.

Josh explained that his house had a history, quite a fucked up one at that. Back in the day, long before he bought it and renovated it, the place used to be an orphanage. One night, more than half a century ago, the caretaker snapped and murdered the orphans one after another. All while counting down the number of kids still alive until she reached zero.

Josh found out after some research that his office used to be the caretaker’s old bedroom.

It doesn’t happen often, but sometimes strange things happened at his house. A voice counting down or pretending to be other people, lights flickering on and off, and other, similar things.

That’s why he got so many smart gadgets. For some reason, those seem to confuse the spirit, as he called it. Generally though, if you leave it alone and follow the rules, nothing bad will happen.

“What the actual fuck!? You’re kidding me, right?” I almost yelled into the phone.

“Afraid not, that’s why I left you the rules, but I should have explained things to you beforehand,” he pressed out.

“Yes, you fucking should have! Why the hell would you even call them something like that if it’s about a… shit, Josh, why the fuck would you even buy a freaking haunted orphanage?!”

“The place was cheap, all right? Way cheaper than any other in town. How the fuck would I’ve known that… Shit, look, man, I know it’s fucked up, but please can you go back tomorrow and take care of the cats? It’s only three more days, but I’m worried about them.”

I was about to tell him to go fuck himself with his freaking haunted house. When he told me he’d pay me some extra money, though, I shout my mouth as soon as I’d opened it.

Shit, I mean, how bad could it get, right? I hadn’t been hurt so far, and Josh reassured me that nothing had ever happened to him. It was all noises and flickering lights.

So the next morning, I found myself at his house yet again. During the day time, everything looked as normal as it could be.

By now I’d calmed down, and by now I wasn’t so sure about his story anymore.

The cats came up to me the moment I entered the place. When I checked my phone, I saw that it was almost 10 pm. The poor little buggers seemed to be hungry, and the moment I’d refilled their feeding blows, they churned down their food.

I was about to leave again, but nothing had ever happened during the day. If anything weird were to happen, I could put down some food and water for the cats by 8 pm and get the hell out of there.

So that day I made sure to take care of all the cat duty Josh had given me. I let them out into the kennel for the afternoon, groomed them in the early evening, and once it was 8 pm, I fed them again.

There was no hint of anything strange happening, and once more I wondered how much was true about Josh’s story.

Instead of going home then and there, I picked up my laptop and settled down on the couch. I went on Google and started searching for any proof of his story.

At first, I found various articles about orphanage related murders and other atrocities. Once I’d narrowed my search down, I noticed a specific brief article.

‘The Horror of Sister Maria – Gruesome Murders at Orphanage’

The article detailed the same story that Josh had told me before. In March 1972, the caretaker of an orphanage, named Sister Maria, had murdered all the children she was overseeing.

The name of the orphanage told me nothing, but when I saw the address, I knew that it was the very same building I was in at the moment.

You’ve got to be freaking kidding me, I cursed. For a moment a feeling of apprehension flooded me and I wondered if Sister Maria had murdered some of the kids right here, in this very room. My eyes darted around, but there was nothing, of course, apart from one of the cats sitting near me.

I petted the little bugger as went back to the article. Then the cat suddenly jerked up, his ears rose and his eyes darted around.

It was a few seconds later that I heard it too. I froze, searching for the source of the noise before I realized it was coming from outside.

I’d barely gotten up when three muffled bangs from the front door and wailing reached me. Step by step, I made my way to figure out what the hell was going on. I’d made it to the hallway when I heard another bang, this one against one of the living room windows.

For a moment I noticed a shadowy figure outside before it vanished again. Then there was another bang, from a different window followed by more wailing.

And then I saw the outlines of a face pressed against the window, staring right at me.

12. ‘If you hear a knock against the window in the middle of the night, ignore it. She will leave again if you don’t acknowledge her.’

That was the moment I lost it. That was the moment I knew this entire thing was real. Her. He’d written it specifically. It had to be the spirit, the ghost of the caretaker.

Before it had been noises, flickering lights, something I could deal with, something I could tell myself was a coincidence. But this, this was different.

Once more the figure vanished, I heard more wailing before I heard it from a different window.

‘She will leave again if you don’t acknowledge her.’

I’d stared right at her, hadn’t I?

What if this thing, this ghost, was no coming after me? For a moment I thought I could hear the counting voice again from somewhere in the house, and at that moment I ran.

I was at the front door in an instant, ripped it open, and stumbled outside.

And right at that moment, I saw it. To my right, in the middle of Josh’s garden, there was the shadowy figure of a woman.

When it took one step towards me, panic flooded over me and I dashed from the house towards my car and jumped into it.

When I turned it on and the headlights flooded the area, I could’ve sworn there was more than one figure.

I noped it the fuck out of there without ever looking back.

Once back home, I was a mess.

Fuck the house, fuck the cats and fuck Josh. I’d never go near his damned house EVER again.

I only sent Josh a single message.

‘I’m done with this shit.’

Then I turned the damn thing off.

I was too shaken up about everything that had happened that day. Before I’d tried to tell myself that it was all a hoax, nothing but a stupid prank, but after what I’d seen tonight, I couldn’t do it anymore.

That night I didn’t sleep. Instead, I turned on every damn light in my small apartment, put on the dumbest movie I could find, and tried my best to distract myself. It didn’t work. Every single sound in the entire freaking building made me jerk up. I was a shaking mess.

Only when the sun came up was I able to relax, if only a bit.

It was by ten in the morning that my doorbell rang. When I opened the front door I was surprised and confused to find Josh outside. His face was white, almost sick looking, and he seemed to be as shaken as I was.

“Hey man, we need to talk,” he said the moment he saw me. No greeting, no nothing, right to business.

I stepped aside to let him inside. I laid into him right away, asking him what the hell the matter with his house was and why he was even back right now. He was quick to raise a hand to tell me to be quiet.

“I think you better sit down, there’s a lot I’ve got to tell you. We, no, I fucked up,” he started.

With that, he told me the entire thing. All he’d done, and all that had happened.

As it turned out Josh’s home was the definition of a smart home, much smarter than I’d ever expected. There were cameras, sensors, hidden speakers all over the place. He told me he liked to play music all over the house, so he’d installed speakers all over the house. Most of them were concealed and not visible. If you didn’t know they were there, you had no clue they existed.

I stared at him, not understanding what he was going on about, but then he dropped me a fucking bomb.

He’d been fucking with me. The entire thing was an elaborate hoax, just as I’d expected. He’d occasionally used speakers to play tricks on his guests. With me, though, he upped the ante a little.

At first, he only added a bunch of weird rules to his list of instructions to play a joke on me. Soon enough, he got a much more devious idea. He programmed his entire freaking house to act out at specific times during the evening and night. Lights would turn on and off, the TV would play static and weird noises would be played from various speakers in the house. He even recorded himself crying in his office.

He even created an elaborate backstory for his house, one that was complete and utter bullshit.

“But, I read that article,” I started. When he looked at me, a mixture of misery and embarrassment visible on his face, I knew the truth right away. He’d even planted a fake article about his house.

When it all sank in, I went freaking livid on him, calling him every name in the book while he sat there, embarrassed and guilty.

Then I stopped. If it was all a joke, then what about last night? What about that ghost I’d seen?

I confronted him right away. I told him it was so beyond fucked up to even hire someone to scare me like that.

That’s when Josh cast down his eyes and I heard him inhale sharply.

“That woman, she wasn’t part of it,” he pressed out in a low voice.

“What the fuck do you mean? Are you trying to tell me she was an actual fucking ghost!?”

“No,” he answered, shaking his head.

“Last night, a man broke into the home of one of my neighbors, Miss Graham, an older woman living by herself. The police’s still investigating, but the man must’ve attacked her, but could not restrain her. She got away, badly injured, and made her way to the house closest to hers to call for help.”

“Yours,” I answered with a shaken voice.

Josh nodded.

“W-what happened to her?” I pressed out after a few seconds of silence.

Josh stayed quiet for a long while, only answering after I’d repeated the question a second time, this time louder.

“Got a call from the police in the middle of the night. My alarm was eventually set off and police checked it out. They found her beaten to death at the back porch of the house.”

I couldn’t speak. My world started spinning, and I almost crashed to the floor.

That’s when I realized what I’d seen that night, who the figures I’d seen were, and what I’d done.

Instead of helping poor Miss Graham, I’d ignored her and left her there to die.

All because I’d followed Josh’s stupid list of rules.

Family Tradition

“… bent her over just like that…”

“… made her squeal like a pig…”

I rolled my eyes as dad and Roger bragged about their conquests.

When they saw it, they both laughed.

“It’s gonna be fine, baby brother,” Roger said, turning to me.

A moment later, I felt dad’s heavy hand on my shoulder.

“You ready for the big day, Mark?”

I sighed.

“Isn’t your first time supposed to be special? Why not Laura from down the street? It’s about love, isn’t it?”

They both burst out laughing again.

“There’s a time and place for love, son, but your first time’s gonna be messy and chaotic. Best to get it over with and-“

“Why do I have to do it in front of you and Roger?”

“Family tradition, son. I was there when Roger had his first and grandpa was with me when I had mine.”

“Yeah, but it’s stupid!”

Dad shrugged and handed me a beer.

As I took it, Roger left the room.

“Roger found just the one for you.”

With that, Roger led a chubby prostitute into the room. The air filled with the smell of cheap perfume and menthol cigarettes.

Her face was caked with make-up and she’d pushed herself into a dress at least two sizes too small for her.

“That the birthday boy?” she asked, giving a smile that was meant to be seductive. It almost made me gag.

“Yeah, Candy, that’s him. Mark turned eighteen just today,” Roger answered.

The woman stepped forward, closing the space between me and her in mere moments.

“Well, I’ll make sure it’s going to be a very special day,” she said, giving me a wink.

Roger had gotten himself a beer and sat down next to dad. I stood there, helplessly, staring from dad to Roger and then back to Candy.

She’d already started to undress. She tried to be seductive, but all I could do was stare at her white, puffy flesh and those huge sagging tits.

For a moment I watched the grotesque spectacle, watched as she laid down and spread her legs wide for me.

With sweaty hands, I took off my shirt and unbuttoned my pants.

I moved forward, crawling closer to the mattress she laid on.

Then I pushed myself on top of her. Our eyes met and at that moment a rush came over me.

This was it, my first time.

My hand closed around my instrument of choice. The one I’d concealed for so long.

I thrust it into her with all the force I could muster and it vanished between her legs.

Candy screamed as the cold, hard metal of the knife entered her.

And I, still on top of her, smiled.

Oh, it was messy, and it was chaotic. It was my first time. But dad and Roger were there to help me take care of things.

After all, it’s family tradition that they help you with your very first kill.

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