The mysterious fairy foresters was a name that was whispered among the kids in my elementary school. It regarded a group of kids who’d grown close after a specific summer camp eight years ago.

I grew up in a small town, nestled between a giant, sprawling forest. In many a class during elementary school, we’d set out on brief excursions into the forest to learn about the various trees, forest animals, and the local folklore. The culmination of these excursions was an event that came to be known as the fairy forest. Some teachers at our school had gotten together and organized an event during summer break. At the edge of the forest, they’d set up a little camping ground, all centered on local folklore. I still remember the sign propped up in a tree, designating the area below as the fairy forest. Tents had been propped up, decorations were sprouting from all the trees, and various games, treasure hunts, and raffles had been prepared to the delight of us kids.

The moment my parents dropped me off, I was head over heels for the place. What I loved the most about it was the mystery surrounding it. While I recognized Mrs. Müller, our homeroom teacher who’d dressed up as a witch, the rest of the adults had gone all out. They were wearing ominous, even scary-looking, costumes and masks, trying their best to hide their faces and voices so we wouldn’t recognize them. It was at this camp, the fairy forest, that the mysterious fairy foresters were born.

While bonds between kids form fast, I still remember the strange little group that crowded together from day two onwards. They hung out during breakfast and lunch, all joined in the same activities, and seemed inseparable. This strange bond, however, continued to last long after the fairy forest was over.

For months, this strange group persisted, giving off the air of a secret society. Before long, someone crowned them the mysterious fairy foresters, and soon tales and rumors about the group spread. Some kids said they talked in their own weird language, so no one could overhear their conversations. Others said they met up in the forest at night, practicing dark magic and strange rituals. Most of us, however, were sure that something must’ve happened between them during the fairy forest. Their change in behavior supported these rumors. Each member of the mysterious fairy foresters was behaving differently. Kids who’d been loud and energetic had become quiet, even distant.

“Maybe they found something weird in the forest, some sort of artifact or secret treasure,” one of my friends, Erik, blurted out one day.

“You’re just saying this because of that stupid movie you watched the other day!” another one, Johannes, chimed in.

“Nuh-uh! I saw them out there, they were all glowing and stuff, and there was this thing in front of them and—”

“Liar! You’re making it all up!”

As the two of them argued back and forth, I saw my best friend Tom. He was shuffling around, opening his mouth to say something before he closed it again.

“What’s the matter with you?” I asked, poking him between the ribs.

“Ouch!” he cursed before he mumbled a “nothing.”

That’s when I knew it was definitely not nothing. I pestered him about it the entire day, and on our way home, he finally relented.

“I saw something that day,” he said in a conspiratorial voice.

“Saw what?”

“That first day of the fairy forest. Do you remember that teacher in the rabbit costume?”

“Oh yeah, no, wait, I don’t. Mrs. Müller was a witch, and that big bear had to have been the principal. Mr. Richter was the wolf, and Mrs. Lehmann was that bird thing. No, I don’t remember a rabbit.”

He nodded but was quiet.

“Are you sure about it?”

“Yeah, I saw it! I was at the archery range, shooting arrows and pretending to be Indians with some other kids, when I heard someone call out to us from nearby.

“When I looked over, I saw this guy in a rabbit costume telling us we were going on a treasure hunt to find forest secrets. But I’d been on that stupid treasure hunt with Mr. Richter at noon, remember?”

“Yeah, it fucking sucked,” I blurted out. Then I instantly covered my mouth, looking around, to make sure no one had heard me curse like that.

“So I stayed, but some others joined in, and then a few more kids went with him as well. I thought nothing about it and everyone was back at dinner time.”

“But?”

“It was them, Daniel!”

“Them?”

“The mysterious fairy foresters! Jan, Melanie, Robbie, all of them! They went with this teacher in the rabbit costume, and ever since then, they’ve all been hanging out together!”

“I knew it. They must’ve found something really cool, and that’s why they are all friends now!”

“But what about that teacher? He was so weird, and no one else has seen anyone dressed up as a rabbit,” he mumbled in a low voice.

“It was probably Mr. Richter or Mrs. Lehmann. Don’t you remember they changed costumes on the last day, too?”

Tom gave me a curt nod, but I could tell that he wasn’t convinced.

Over the course of the next months, the mysterious fairy foresters persisted, but eventually, their little group drifted apart. Whatever magic or secret had held them together for so long seemed to have dissipated. Before long, nothing but stories and old rumors remained of the little group. As the years passed and we moved on from elementary school to middle school, the name had become nothing but a little inside joke between me and Tom. I was sure the name as well as our memories of the fairy forest would vanish all together. At least, that’s what I thought.

It was during our town fair that I should learn just how much more there was to the incident Tom had witnessed so many years ago. Our yearly fair is the biggest event in town. Everyone, no matter if they are kids, teenagers, adults, or old people, gets together to dance, drink, and have fun. As a kid, I loved all the different stalls and rides. My favorite were the lottery stall and the shooting gallery where I’d often spend my entire allowance in an hour or two. As a teenager, however, I learned of a different part of the town fair. The evening and the night. It was all about dancing, getting drunk, and, if you were lucky, making out. I was sitting together with some of my friends in the beer tent having a blast when a girl walked up to us.

“Daniel?” she asked, poking me.

All of my friends turned to me, and I could see the girl blush before she took a deep breath.

“You know Isabel from class 9B, right?”

I nodded. “Yeah, why?”

“She’s waiting outside by the shooting gallery.”

With that, the girl turned around and hurried away. I sat there, staring after her. Why the hell was she telling me that and why right now? I turned back to my friends and took a deep sip from my beer. They were all staring at me.

“What?” I asked after I’d put my glass back down.

“Why the hell are you sitting here, you idiot?” Tom asked me.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh my god, dude, she’s interested in you! Go talk to her! Now!”

When I didn’t get up right away, he pushed me off the bench.

“Just go!”

And so I went. Needless to say, I was more than nervous. I knew Isabel. We weren’t friends or anything, but we’d talked occasionally, and I had to admit, I liked her a little. Or more than a little, I thought, when I saw her by the shooting gallery. When she noticed me, she smiled. It made my heart race. I tried to walk in a relaxed, cool manner, but I still almost stumbled over my feet.

“H-hey, Isabel,” I greeted her in a quiet voice.

“Hey, Daniel,” she said, giving me the same shy smile.

I felt the blood rush to my face.

“So, what’s up?” I started. “You want to go back and sit with us or…?” I asked, my voice trailing off.

“Nah, I’d rather just sit with you.”

Soon after, the two of us walked to the edge of the fairgrounds, away from the late evening bustle, and sat down between a group of trees. We just sat there, next to each other, talking about school and other mundane nonsense, holding hands.

Before long, I noticed something. Someone was stumbling down the street near us. I stared and laughed a little when I saw it was Jan. He was always quiet and distant, the last person you’d expect to party, but he was clearly drunk. At least that’s what I thought at first. As I watched him, I noticed he wasn’t so much stumbling as walking strangely. His gait seemed wrong, his steps too wide and jerky. Then he came to an abrupt stop and just stood there. At first I didn’t know what he was doing, but another person soon joined him and then another. Before long, half a dozen teenagers had gathered around him. Now, this wasn’t too strange. During the town fair, many young people took to camping in the meadows around town to make the most out of it. Yet, as I watched them, none of them seemed to move, interact, or even talk. The strangest feeling washed over me, and for a second, I pressed down on Isabel’s hand a bit too hard.

“Ouch, what are you doing?”

“Oh shit, sorry,” I apologized, turning to her.

“Am I boring you?” she asked.

She must’ve noticed me staring at the strange group.

“No, of course not. It’s just over there, that group. They are acting strange.”

As she leaned forward to look at them, I recognized more members of the group in the bright moon light. There was Melanie, and over there were Jens and Robbie. And, as more and more teenagers joined the group, I knew who they were.

“The mysterious fairy foresters,” I brought out in a low voice.

“The mysterious…what?” Isabel asked with an amused look on her face.

Her family had only moved to our town in the last years, so I explained the origin of the name.

“That’s kind of cute, you know,” she said, giggling a little.

Yet, I didn’t join in. I couldn’t. Instead, I kept watching the ever-growing group of quiet teenagers. Slowly but steadily, they all arrived. Once they had all gathered, they started on their way down the street, away from the fairgrounds and out into the night. As I watched them, that strange feeling was back. Something was wrong with them. At first I didn’t know what it was but then realized they were all moving in the same distorted way Jan had. Some of them walked in a strange jerky way, others took steps far too wide, making their bodies seem elongated. My eyes grew wide as they followed this strange procession. Before I knew what I was doing, I’d let go of Isabel’s hand and had gotten up.

“Hey, where are you going?” she piped up.

I pointed after the strange group who were making their way down the road.

“Why are you—?”

“Look at them!” I said in a voice far too eager for my liking.

“They are probably just camping nearby, you know, down by the lake.”

“No, look how they are walking! There’s something wrong with them, all of them. They didn’t talk or—”

“Why does it matter?”

“I, I don’t know,” I started, but by now the story Tom had told me so long ago came back to my mind and with it all those rumors and tales we’d shared about the mysterious fairy foresters.

“They are going back,” I pressed out.

“What?”

“They are going back to the fairy forest.”

“What are you even talking about?” she asked, annoyed by now.

“Just wait here for a bit, all right?”

And with that, I hurried after the strange group. They were walking slowly, not in any hurry, allowing me to close the distance between us. Once I got closer, though, I couldn’t help but hide behind a tree by the road. At first I thought it was my imagination, that it was because of the clouds, but when the moonlight flooded over the group again, I couldn’t deny any more how wrong this all was. I followed them, half hidden behind the bushes at the side of the road. They didn’t notice me, or if they did, they didn’t care. Soon we’d reached the first trees of the forest, and the place where the fairy forest had been held so long ago. By now, I’d inched closer toward the group, using the trees as cover. My eyes grew wide when I scanned the group. They had all changed and their bodies had become twisted. Some had grown in size, had become thin, elongated versions of the human body. Others seemed to have regressed in size, as if their bodies had folded into themselves. And yet others were moving on all fours and had warped into ghastly caricatures of animals. Even though it was a warm night, I felt cold, and goosebumps sprouted all over my arms. As they closed in on the forest, I noticed a figure standing between the trees. It was still a few dozen meters away, but when I strained my eyes, I saw him standing there in the moonlight. The rabbit man Tom had mentioned all those years ago.

I told myself it was a person in a rabbit costume. I tried to tell myself this entire procession was nothing but some weird act. But the longer I watched, the longer I stared at him, and the closer I got, the clearer the truth became. The face, the ears, those wide, glowing red eyes, they were real. Whatever I was seeing here and whatever that thing was, it was real, entirely real. As I stood there, hunched behind a tree, I watched as the procession of once-humans continued on past him and vanished in the forest. After the last member of the mysterious fairy foresters had vanished between the trees, the rabbit man turned in my direction. I pushed myself against the tree I was behind, but his deep red eyes still met mine. Fear washed over me and my entire body started shaking as this creature, this…thing, stared at me. Its face contorted, the corners of its mouth were wandering higher and higher, twisting it into a horrible caricature of a grin. I caught my breath, held on to, no, clawed into the tree I stood behind, paralyzed by fear. I expected the creature to dash forward, to rush toward me and drag me away into the forest to where all the others had gone. Yet all it did was to give me a brief wave, bidding me to come forward. When I didn’t move, it turned and vanished between the trees. I was left alone, shaken, scared, and utterly confused about what I’d just seen.

For long minutes, I didn’t move, scanned the forest, afraid that someone or…something would burst from it. At last, when I could move my legs again, I hurried back, away from the forest and to the fairgrounds. I stumbled around, searching for Isabel or Tom, but by now all the merriment had ended. For a moment, the shadows of the few people that remained seemed to dance and twist in front of me. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and when I opened them again, the illusion had vanished. All that remained were the final strugglers, stumbling around with a last drink in their hands. Before long, not sure what else to do, I went on my way home. I didn’t sleep that night. Instead, I lay in bed, wide awake, my head filled with a plethora of thoughts and scenarios. I tried to make sense of what I’d seen, but everything I came up with was ridiculous.

The next day, the things turned from weird to outright scary. When I made my way to the fairgrounds, the police had locked the entire place down. People crowded around the area, trying to figure out what was going on. I found Tom nearby, standing between a group of other people.

“Hey, what’s going on?” I asked, but somehow, I already knew what this was about.

“I don’t know, but I think something happened last night. Someone went missing.”

“Not someone, the mysterious fairy foresters,” I mumbled to myself.

Tom looked up, staring at me.

“If any of you,” a police officer addressed the crowd, “have information on the whereabouts of Jan Henning, Robbie Freitag, Melanie Schuster, and Jens Seibert, please come forward.”

As I stood there, I saw the worried faces of Jan’s parents, saw Robbie’s mother crying by herself, and I subconsciously moved forward. I made my way past the crowd and went up to a policeman nearby. He escorted me to the fair’s small office and asked me what I knew. As coherently as I could, I told him what I’d witnessed last night. The officer listened, but I could see his face growing darker the longer I went on. It was clear he didn’t believe a word of my story. He confronted me about beer and drugs, if I thought this was a joke, but I swore what I’d seen was the truth. Eventually, he sighed and gave me a nod, sending me off.

In the end, though, as the number of missing teenagers grew and no other clues were available, the police began a search of the forest. When they made no progress, many of the townspeople volunteered to help. Our town became quiet and somber during those days. The local newspaper was filled with articles about the disappearances, and no conversation was had that didn’t center on the fate of the mysterious fairy foresters.

After three days, I finally told the entire story to Tom. At first he called me out on it being bullshit, then he got mad at me for pulling a joke like this. When I insisted it was true, though, he became scared and confused. We joined the volunteers the very next day. I don’t know why we did it. I guess it was a mixture of morbid curiosity, fear, and a strange feeling of responsibility.

For a week, we stumbled through the forest. It felt like half the town was out here with us, calling names, scanning trees, checking crevices, and searching for any hints. It was by sheer accident that Tom and I found something. In the center of a clearing, he stumbled over a small hump and fell down. He tried to get up, but his foot was stuck. When he got free, he pulled the small, half-rotten strap of a backpack from the ground. We both stared at it with wide eyes before we called out to the people nearby. Tools were brought, and under the watchful eye of the police, people started unearthing the small clearing. When the first bones were found, it was clear we’d stumbled upon a mass grave.

What was thought to be the final, heart-wrenching answer to this case would only pose more questions, questions no one could answer. The skeletal remains of about two dozen elementary school children were found in the clearing. From the remnants of clothes, backpacks, and other items found on the bodies, there was no doubt who they were. They were the bodies of all the kids who Tom had seen follow the strange rabbit man into the forest so many years ago.

And that’s when I knew why the mysterious fairy foresters had always seemed so weird. Because those kids who’d returned that same evening, who’d lived amongst us for so many years, had been something entirely different.

Part 5

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Day six began with an encounter with a familiar face. It was the old man I’d met on day two. Today, he wasted no time and sat down in front of me right away.

“Guess you’re still on here,” he said.

“Same as you. Guess we both enjoy riding the tram.”

“It’s not all fun and games, young man, but I’m sure you know that by now, given how long you’ve been on.”

“Sure do,” I said, chuckling.

The old man didn’t join in, and instead gave me an expectant look. And so, I told him about my experiences over the past days. When I mentioned the strange, undescriptive people, and the state they left at, his expression changed. It became one of sadness, of longing, but he said nothing.

Eventually, I told him what had happened the day before, about my encounter with the waving man, and what the scruffy homeless guy had told me.

“That man’s right. You’ve stayed on for too long. As he told you, certain things might notice you, and now they have.”

Once more, I felt a shiver running down my spine. I was in for it now, was I?

“I’ll tell you again, it’s not worth it.”

With that, he got up from his seat, walked off, and settled down in the tram car ahead of me. For a few more minutes, he sat there, but the moment I looked away, he was gone.

The next couple of hours were rather quiet. It was Saturday afternoon, and only a few people entered the tram, obviously on their way to the inner city area. The moment we left it behind, I soon found myself alone again.

We’d just made it to the outskirts of town when the tram stopped and I was greeted by loud yelling and booming laughter. Kids, I thought. I began rubbing my temples, and was about to yell at them to knock it off, when one of them tapped me on the shoulder.

“You’re it!” he called out before a group of six kids rushed past me.

They were nothing but colorful blurs as they hurried to the tram car ahead of me. For a few seconds, they were causing a ruckus before they tried their best to hide themselves. I thought nothing of it, and couldn’t help but sigh when one of them crawled under a seat, and another tried to hide himself behind the ticket machine.

Others, however, were doing… stranger things, impossible things, and I felt myself shivering in my seat. I watched as one kid folded into himself, becoming smaller and smaller while another seemed to melt between two seats, vanishing. As I sat there, I closed my eyes, and then opened them again. By then, all six kids were gone.

At first, I thought it had been nothing but another hallucination, but then I heard muffled giggling. I tried to ignore it. This was just happening because I was alone on the tram. All those things only ever happened when I was completely alone. Just wait till other people get on, and it will be over.

My thoughts were interrupted when I felt a hand on my shoulder. My heart skipped a beat and my breath caught in my throat.

“The kids are waiting,” the hand’s owner cackled from behind me.

I froze. Then I carefully took a glance at the hand resting on my shoulder. It was old and wrinkly, but the fingers were too long, much too long, unnaturally so.

Why was this thing here? Why now? Nothing like that had ever happened! Not during the day!

When the sun pushed itself out from behind the clouds, I saw the shadow of what was standing behind me. It was a giant, monstrous shadow that seemed to spread through the entire tram car, stretching further and further.

“Well, why aren’t you going?”

“N-no. I’m-“

I didn’t get to finish the excuse. The creature’s hand closed around my shoulder, caressing it teasingly. I told myself to stay calm. Breath in, breath out, quietly. Don’t move. Just ignore it.

I felt the creature’s eyes resting on me. It cackled again, this time louder, and its sour breath permeated the tram. With each passing second, I felt it getting closer, could feel its breath against my neck. All the while, it was still caressing and squeezing my shoulder. I closed my eyes, and told myself once more to do nothing, absolutely nothing.

How close was it by now? What if I’d open my eyes, only to find its face right next to mine, staring at me?

I squirmed under its hand, praying, hoping for something to happen, for someone else to get on. Finally, I heard the announcement of the next station via the intercom, and a few seconds later, the tram slowed down. At that moment, the hand let go of my shoulder, and I felt the creature retreating. When I opened my eyes, I saw a group of people waiting at the station ahead.

“Playtime’s over, little ones,” the thing behind me screeched.

Right away, all six kids reappeared, jumping out from behind seats, and from places they couldn’t possibly have fit in. For the first time, I could clearly make out their faces. I wish I hadn’t. They were all grinning, wearing the same ghastly, face-splitting grin. What made it even worse, I somehow recognized them. In the deepest corner of my mind, I knew I’d seen them before. Six kids, laughing and playing on the tram.

A moment later, they and the creature were gone. I sighed with relief, but then, driven by curiosity, I turned around. What I saw outside was the group of kids, standing around a tiny old lady, who seemed to smile down at them. A second later, she turned toward me, and her eyes found mine.

In an instant, her face changed. What had been a kind, smiling expression changed to one of anger. In an instant, I jerked back around more than happy when the tram drove off, leaving these ghastly beings behind.

For the next half hour, my mind was in an uproar. I told myself multiple times I was an idiot for keeping this up. I had to give up and get off. This wasn’t worth it, not anymore. Things had changed. The rules, whatever they were, had changed. And yet, I stayed on, almost as if it wasn’t my choice to make.

As the afternoon continued, I noticed the same recurring passengers. By now, they’d long become a normal part of the Long Ride. Just another strange incident amongst a plethora of others.

Yet when my eyes followed one of them, an older woman, I noticed the change right away. She wasn’t minding her own business like she usually did. No, she was frowning while measuring me up.

I remembered what that homeless guy had said:

‘That thing, it’s marked you, and now others know you’re here, too!’

I took a deep breath and averted my eyes, trying my best to ignore her, but I could feel her eyes resting on me until she got off the tram. Only a few stations later, she got on once again, and once more, she stared at me. I didn’t look at her, and only took a single, side-way glance, but I could’ve sworn her frown was getting deeper.

This behavior was the same for every single one of them, and they too seemed to become angrier with each of their iterations. Whenever one of them entered, their eyes instantly fell on me, and never left me until they got off again. It made me feel nervous, restless even. I tried to read, to distract myself, but I could feel them. It was an almost physical sensation.

When it became evening, the bustle of the partygoers started again, and for the first time in hours, I felt myself calming down. Under the constant bustle of people entering and leaving the tram, I felt safe, hidden from view. And yet, I knew they were still there. I could still feel their eyes penetrating the general chaos that ruled over the tram.

As evening bled into the early hours of the morning, the tram grew emptier again, and I found myself assaulted by at least a dozen of them. Even worse, under the cover of the partygoers, they’d all gotten closer. By now, they were all in the same tram car as me.

At that point, I couldn’t take it anymore.

“The hell do you want from me!?” I called out.

I got no answer.

After a while, however, I noticed something. Their behavior had changed. By now, they were all acting just like the guy in the dark clothes I’d encountered on day three. They didn’t just sit in their seats anymore, but were leaning forward, their faces distorted by nothing but rage. Their hands were on their seats, their feet shuffled over the floor in anticipation.

With each station, more of them entered, more of them joined this unmoving crowd of watchers, of predators ready to pounce on me. With everything I’d heard, with all the warnings I’d received, I knew something was going to happen. I knew it, and yet… they weren’t doing anything, almost as if they were waiting for… something.

In that instant, fear washed over me, raw and hot, fear that soon turned to panic. Their eyes were suffocating me. Suddenly, I couldn’t breathe. My heart was pounding so hard it felt like it would explode.

No, this was it! I wouldn’t stay until god knows what happened! Fuck the Long Ride, fuck the tram, it’s over!

I pushed my arm through the backpack’s strap and was about to get up, but when I did, their angry glances changed. They all turned to grins, hungry grins. The same feeling I’d had when I tried to flee from the guy in black clothes came back to me. If I’d get up now, they’d come for me, wouldn’t they? That’s what they were waiting for. For me to get up, so they could tear me apart!

I just stood there, in my seat, backpack over my shoulder, unable to move. Then the tram turned a corner, a bend that shouldn’t exist, and we encountered another un-location.

In that moment, futility took the place of desperation. Defeated, I slumped down in my seat, knowing I was trapped. My eyes wandered to the tram’s window, and I stared outside in miserable wonder. Not like it mattered, I thought.

The entire area was covered in nothing but small buildings, shanties comprising nothing but rubble and trash. They seemed to have been put up without rhyme or reason, and were growing from the ground like mushrooms. Between them, I saw things move. Twisted shades I could tell weren’t human.

Yet it wasn’t merely this shantytown we’d arrived at. No, they were all part of another un-location, had been built around it, as if they were part of an ever-spreading infection. The glaring red light that flooded the tram, and the blasting done music told me were once again approaching Club Red.

No, I thought, not this place again, not tonight, not when things had changed.

I hoped the tram would pass by it, and we’d return to reality, that other people would enter, and I’d be able to get away. Instead, we approached a wide, arching opening and drove straight into Club Red itself.

What I saw in there was utterly surreal. All I’d seen so far had been the building’s exterior, and it should only have been a taste of the insanity the place truly contained. It was nothing but a cesspool, an amalgamation of sin. The same strange psychedelic music was blaring and stabbing at my ears. It was so loud, I grew dizzy, and my vision blurred. Yet, I found myself entranced by it, and soon couldn’t tear my eyes from what I saw outside.

Stalls were placed everywhere. They were offering drinks, food, but also other… things. In some of them, I thought I saw bound humans, or things that made once have been humans. Here and there, people were copulating with inhuman creatures, ghastly orgies, comprising nothing but slithering bodies. In other places, I saw strange rituals, and people praying to disgusting, twisted idols. Even here, inside, the place defied the laws of physics. The walls were covered in doorways, all connected to a mad network of stairs, but stairs that shouldn’t work. And yet, they did. It was as if the works of M. C. Escher had become a reality.

Then the strange fascinated trance I’d been under broke, and I remembered where I was, and what was happening to me. While I’d been staring outside, I’d not given the tram’s interior any attention. The strange recurring passengers had inched even closer to me, were now surrounding me. I opened my mouth to scream at them, to tell them to stay back, and to get the fuck away from me, but right at that moment, the tram came to a halt and its doors opened.

Instantly, the air was filled with a stench so strong, so oppressive, it made me cough. It was a mixture of exotic spices and bodily fluids, but also… blood. Yet this wasn’t the worst. I noticed something approaching the tram, and before I could even react, a figure had entered it.

Its limbs sprouted from places they shouldn’t and were bent at strange angles, as if they had too many joints in them. I watched as its head pushed forward, the neck stretching further and further, as it scanned the interior of the tram. Taking one step at a time, the monstrosity approached me. Its feet clicked over the floor, and its spidery limbs brushed over the seats, caressing their texture in playful anticipation. As it did, a disgustingly strong odor reached me, something pungent, the sweet smell of decay, of rot.

I just sat there, mouth open, not able to do anything but stare ahead. No, it couldn’t be. Why was that thing here? Why the hell was it back?! Cold sweat drenched me as I clung to the seat in front of me, trembling uncontrollably. Oh god, it’s getting closer. It’s coming for me! This time, it was actually coming for me!

By now, the recurring passengers around me were all grinning madly. I understood now. This is what they’d been waiting for. They weren’t able to do anything themselves, weren’t able to hurt me, but this… this thing could!

As I watched the twisted creature take another step, as it stalked forward, ever closer towards me, I just… lost it. I screamed in terror, jumped off my seat, and dashed for the tram doors. I didn’t want to go out there. Hell, I shouldn’t, but I wasn’t in control of my body. It was nothing but pure, primal fear that drove me on. Yet the doors closed right in front of me. For a mad second, I clawed at them, tried to pry them open, but before I could, the tram started to move, trapping me inside.

Fuck! What the fuck do I do?!

Then, with no other option, I rushed to the back of the tram, praying we’d return to reality, to my city, to another station. Outside, we left Club Red behind, but continued on through the ever-extending shantytown. Fuck! Why aren’t we back yet?! I sat in the back, huddled behind a seat, trying to keep the panic at bay, but it was impossible.

By now, the creature had almost reached the last tram car, and for a moment, its eyes focused on me. Its jaw fell open, unhinged like that of a snake, and a distorted bout of guffawing laughter escaped it.

At that moment, I couldn’t fight the panic anymore. I jumped up, my hand closing around the glass breaker. And then, with all the force I could muster, swung it against the window. It crashed against the glass again and again before it finally shattered. A moment later, I threw myself outside.

When I hid the ground, the skin on my hands scraped away. My knees crunched against the asphalt before pain shot through my entire body. Then I was propelled forward, hit my head on the ground, and half-rolled, half-stumbled out into the street.

I heard a horn, heard brakes screeched, but avoided the oncoming truck by a hair’s breath.

Laying on the ground, I was panting and in terrible pain. When I finally looked up, all was normal. No hint of the un-location remained. Instead, I was on an entirely normal street in my city. By now, the driver of the truck had jumped out, his face a mixture of anger and worry. A moment later, the tram driver followed. He laid into me right away, calling me crazy for destroying the window, and jumping off, calling me drunk, on drugs, or flat out insane.

Instead of reacting to any of his words, I stared back at the tram. It was empty. No one was inside. None of the recurring passengers, and no twisted, spidery monsters.

I could only listen as the tram driver explained to the other man what had happened. Apparently, I’d suddenly jumped off my seat, screaming and freaking out before I’d broken the window, and jumped off. Even though I’d been entirely alone on the tram. I opened my mouth to tell them what had happened, but then closed it again. What could I even tell them?

In the end, all I could do was to drag my battered body to the sidewalk and sit down. By now, the tram driver had called the police and informed them about what I’d done. I thought about trying to get away, but in the state I was in, it was impossible.

As I sat there, I thought back to the old man, to the vision of his torn and mangled body. If that truck had hit me, something similar would’ve most likely happened to me. Was this what all this had been about? Had all of these strange people, these creatures, been nothing but visions, illusions to drive me over the edge? So I’d go crazy and end up being run over? Maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t…

When the police arrived, they were quick to take the statement of both drivers before they spoke to me. They took me to the station and questioned me for almost an hour. In the end, I told them I’d had a panic attack, couldn’t breathe, and thought I’d die if I didn’t get off the tram. They were skeptical to say the least, and subjected me to not only an alcohol but also a drug test. When both came back negative, I was essentially let off the hook, but not scot-free. They charged me with vandalism, and I’d have to pay for the tram window I’d destroyed.

And so, I’d finally given up in the early hours of the morning on day six.

What happened is a tale I can’t share with anyone, for no one would believe any of the things I’ve seen. Hell, even I’m unsure about what happened, and what of it was… real after all.

All of this has proven one thing to me, though. There are things out here, waiting for those who linger too long.

And yet, as much as I told myself it was all over, it wasn’t. For even now, in my mundane every-day life, reality is still slightly skewed, slightly warped. Shadows linger too long, and faces in the crowd sometimes grin at me. They beckon me silently to follow them, to come along.

After all, I’ve been marked, and once the Long Ride beings, it never truly ends.

Part 4

---

The morning of day five started fantastic right off the bat. I was hungover; the tram was overcrowded, and the collective noise of all the passengers cut through my head like a searing knife.

Eventually, I just didn’t care anymore. I pulled out bottle number two and decided to have a few sips, hoping it would ease my hangover and allow me to get back to sleep. Needless to say, people weren’t too happy about it. No one cares to enforce the ‘no drinking on the tram’ rule, but that didn’t mean people wanted to see someone drinking in the early morning hours. After a single sip, I could already feel the pain in my brain receding. I leaned back, took a deep breath, and then another sip. This behavior didn’t go unnoticed, of course. I saw the stares, and I could almost hear the whisper, but honestly, I didn’t give a shit. I was just too damn exhausted.

It wasn’t long before I felt someone’s hand on my shoulder. When I turned around, I saw an older man. His attire screamed blue collar. He was staring me down, waiting for me to take out my headphones. The moment I did, he spoke up.

“Drinking first thing in the morning, eh, but not even making room for others to sit down?”

I just looked at him and was about to give him a ‘fuck you,’ but he wasn’t the only one laying into me.

“There are children here, you know? Can’t you at least think about what an example you’re setting for them?” an old woman chimed in.

“How about you just move the damned backpack and get up? Maybe standing for a bit might sober you up,” Mr. Blue Collar spat at me.

Without waiting for an answer, he got a hold of my backpack and was about to pull it off the seat. I was quick to hold it in place with my free hand. This time, I said it out loud.

“Fuck off, okay?”

He didn’t like me mouthing off one bit, and this time, he pulled the backpack with all the force he could muster. The backpack slid off the seat, and I was promptly pulled after it. In the process, I spilled a good part of the vodka all over myself. I cursed, only to be greeted by snickering and more whispers all around me.

“Already drunk at this time of the day,” a middle-aged lady said, shaking her head in disgust.

“Probably homeless and slept on the tram,” someone else added.

“They should just kick him off,” a teenager said to his friends, who enthusiastically agreed with his idea.

“Fucking hell, all right,” I finally said, and got up from my seat.

Then I got a hold of my backpack and pushed myself through the more than annoyed crowd of passengers to find myself some room. As I did, it felt like every single person on the tram was staring at me. Occasionally, people moved out of the way, their disgust at my drunken self visible on their faces. Others, however, weren’t shy about elbowing me or pushing me aside, trying to provoke another scene.

Eventually, I made it to a spot near the doors, pushed myself against the side of the tram, and began massaging my temples. I still heard people’s whispers and still felt their glances. Yeah, you can all go fuck yourself.

Yet some weren’t just satisfied with that. When the group of teenagers from before got off the tram, they all bumped into me, one so hard, I almost lost my footing. In an instant, I jerked around and pushed the fucker. He tumbled off the tram and promptly crashed to the floor. He got up a second later, was about to throw a punch, but then froze. His eyes grew wide, fear distorted his face, and he cringed back, staring at me. He opened his mouth, but then closed it again. His friends asked him why he didn’t ‘punch the fucker,’ but he wasn’t able to say anything.

I’m sure I looked like shit, probably like a homeless person, but that reaction, that fear… It wasn’t normal. Then, for the blink of an eye, I caught a glimpse of something strange, something distorted in my reflection, but it was gone before I could focus on it. I just stood there, deeply unsettled, as the tram doors closed again. Could it actually be true? Was I somehow changing because of the otherworldly influences I’d been subjected to?

Before I could think about it any longer, I found myself face to face with Mr. Blue Collar. He was pissed, and in an instant, he grabbed me by the collar.

“If you do anything like that again, I’ve got no problem kicking your drunk ass off the tram!” he snapped at me.

Too surprised to do anything else, I merely nodded.

“Piece of shit,” he mumbled as he returned to his seat.

Before long, more and more people left the tram, Mr. Blue Collar amongst them. Before he did, he sent a final, angry stare my way.

Eventually, only a handful of people remained, and I could return to my trusty row of seats. I considered taking a few more sips, but I could tell the driver had it out for me after the earlier commotion. Unless I didn’t want to get kicked off for real, I’d better lie low for a bit. I settled down, close my eyes, and got ready to catch some sleep.

In the late afternoon, the sound of someone knocking against the tram’s window awoke me. I jerked up, but saw no one. Great, I thought, probably a bunch of kids who’d played a trick on me.

Then I saw him. A guy, standing on the other side of the road, staring at me. His face showed a slightly cheeky smile, as if he’d just played a trick on me. As if to make it even clearer, he made a little knocking motion. So it had been him, but… how? How’d he be able to knock against the glass from over there? I mean, there was no way he’d be fast enough to knock and cross the street. My eyes continued to rest on him until the tram drove off. The moment it did, his smile grew a tad bit wider, more amused, and he slowly raised his hand to wave at me.

I don’t know why, but the entire encounter crept me out. The hell was wrong with him? I shook my head. No, don’t think about it, just let it go. It’s probably some idiot who saw me jerk up and decided to fuck with me.

At least, that’s what I thought until I’d arrived at the next station. The moment we pulled in, I saw a person waving. I thought it was someone’s friend, but then I recognized him. It was the same guy, the same freaking guy from the last station. How he’d gotten here was anyone’s guess. His smile was still friendly, still amused, but he seemed to have gotten a tad bit closer to the tram.

By now, I should’ve been used to all these strange events, and should’ve ignored him. Hell, seen it as a normal part of my day, but I just… couldn’t. I don’t even know why, but him looking entirely normal, and his smile being nonthreatening, was much worse than any of the ghastly grins I’d seen so far. I told myself once more to look away, to ignore him and to focus on my music, but I still found myself staring at him. Finally, we drove off, and once more, he waved at me, his eyes trailing after me.

When we pulled into the next station, I knew he’d be there. We were still a good hundred meters away, but I could already see him waiting for me. The moment the tram pulled in, he waved at me again, and once more he’d gotten closer. I couldn’t help but squirm in my seat. That freaking smile!

Every time, the tram pulled into a new station, that guy was there, and every time, he was doing the same thing, smile, waving and getting closer. By this point, I’d seen a lot of weird shit, but this was just too damn bizarre. With each station, I grew more nervous, and felt strangely trapped, as if the tram around me was shrinking.

And then, I did it. After more than a dozen stations, I just couldn’t take it anymore. I raised my hand, and waved back at him, just to see if anything would happen, if anything would change. Things did. Instantly, his hand went down. His eyes grew wider, and his smile grew bigger, ever bigger. It felt as if time stretched on endlessly, while the whites of his teeth became more and more visible. Everything else about him seemed frozen in time. He didn’t move, didn’t blink, didn’t even seem to breathe. The only thing moving was his mouth. And then he just turned around and left.

A wave of fear washed over me, and I started trembling. I didn’t know what I’d just done, but I knew I’d just made a mistake, a huge fucking mistake. As I sat there, shaking in my seat, my eyes wandered to the internal departure display to see when we’d pull into the next station. Three minutes. What if he was there again? What if he was waiting for me? Hell, what if he was going to come for me? Just because I’d… reacted to him.

Then the announcement of the next station was broadcast over the internal speaker by a friendly, yet monotonous, voice. I froze. There he was. My heart was pounding in my chest, my palms were sweaty, and I’d already pulled my arm through my backpack’s strap, ready to run.

Then I realized I’d been wrong. It was another person, another man, just waiting for the tram. The waving guy wasn’t there. I slumped down in my seat and a sigh of relief escaped me. Yet I knew this wasn’t over. I knew I’d done… something, and I knew it would’ve repercussions.

Slowly, ever so slowly, afternoon turned to evening, Friday evening. It meant the tram would be packed all night. I watched as teenagers and older people alike flooded into the tram. I saw a group of guys dressed up in suits, girls in skits and knee highs, older ladies in classy dresses, and even a pair of guys in sweatpants, carrying two caskets of beer. Almost the entire city seemed to be out to party tonight.

The later it got, and the more alcohol people seemed to have consumed, the more excitable they became. Here a group of drunks was bellowing a raunchy song through half the tram. Over there a couple was making out, and further ahead were two older gentleman sharing a bottle of disgustingly strong herb liquor.

For hours, I watched the various people entering the tram and their interactions. To be honest, it was interesting, and for the first time, I ignored the outside of the tram, and didn’t look for any new un-locations. Instead, I’d returned to people watching.

One hour blurred into another. Evening turned to night, but the buzz and noise of the tram never ebbed away.

That is until she entered.

For a second, all sound died down. Heads turned. Conversations stopped mid-word. Everyone’s eyes fixed on her alone. She was the most gorgeous woman I’d ever seen. Warm hazel eyes drifted over the crowd in search of a seat, her lips curling into a cheeky smile. A rebellious strand of hair slipped loose, and I watched as she brushed it aside. It was a gesture both casual and studied, as if made to linger in one’s memory.

Then, slowly, normalcy returned, or at least, a sense of normalcy, for she was still the center of attention. The strangest thing was how plainly she was dressed. Instead of a fancy evening dress, she wore a pair of roughed up jeans and a white tank top. As her well-measured steps lead her through the tram, I couldn’t tear my eyes off her. I told myself to look away, to stop being a freaking creep, but I couldn’t. This girl, whoever she was, was exactly my type, a fantasy become flesh.

Then she noticed me. In an instant, and without knowing what I was doing, I averted my eyes. Shit, you freaking dumbass. I did my best to just turn away and stare out the window, but then, only a few moments later, she was right there, standing next to my row of seats.

“I’m sorry, is this seat available, or is it reserved for your backpack?” she asked, giving me the hint of a smile.

Jesus Christ, I can die happy.

“Oh yeah, it is, I mean, it’s reserved… not reserved, available, I mean. Just let me get this out of the way.”

With that, I heaved the heavy backpack over to my side, and then, with all the force I could muster, pushed it down between my legs. It barely fit, and I was damned sure I’d just ruined a fair bit of the food still inside, but I didn’t care. I’d have thrown the damned thing out of the tram if it meant having a shot with this girl.

She watched my efforts, giggling, before she sat down next to me.

“So, are you out to party?” she asked.

Her voice was pure seduction and made the blood rush through my veins.

“Ah, no, I’m…”

Shit, what do I tell her? If I told her what I was doing, she’d probably think I was the biggest freaking idiot on Planet Earth. Which, honestly, wasn’t too far from the truth.

“No, I’m going somewhere,” I eventually said.

“Hmmmm,” she mused. “Why don’t the two of us go somewhere together? To be honest, I’m really bored tonight, and I’m looking for a bit of fun, you know?”

After she said this, she gave me a little wink. Instantly, my head was full of conflicting ideas. I wanted to, I so fucking wanted to, but I couldn’t just give up like that, could I? Not on day freaking five!

Then she put her hand on my leg, caressing it slightly.

“Why not take a chance for once?”

At that moment, I was done. Fuck the Long Ride, fuck the tram, and fuck my friends who’d most likely call me out for giving up. I didn’t care anymore.

The tram rumbled on, then came to a stop. At that moment, she got off her seat and held out her hand for me. Without even thinking, I took it and got up myself. Yet before I could leave my row of seats behind, something unexpected happened. Some idiot who must’ve sat nearby bumped right into her. Her hand was torn from mine, and she stumbled a few steps forward. I was about to yell at the fucker, but at that moment, the girl changed.

For the shortest of moments, the beautiful girl in front of me… wavered, for lack of a better word, and the air was filled with a sweet, otherworldly smell. Brown hair and hazel eyes vanished. Her beautiful face sagged, the skin pooling like wax before it slid away, revealing a crude mixture of scar tissue and bone beneath. I cringed back, almost toppled over my seat, and crashed hard against the tram’s side.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” I heard from beside me, and saw a scruffy-looking older dude.

When I turned back to the girl, she was all hazel eyes and brown hair again.

“Are you okay? Still coming?” she asked, but this time, the illusion wasn’t perfect.

For a moment, her face was replaced by what I now recognized as a giant, sharp break, and her small delicate hand changed into a set of twisted claws, clicking in anticipation. Once more, I pushed myself against the side of the tram. When she saw my reaction, her entire act fell apart. Her smile was gone, her eyes turned hard, and a mixture of rage and frustration came over her face. For a second, I thought she might throw herself at me and tear me apart right there, but then she just walked off. I couldn’t help but stare after her, after… it.

“Wouldn’t look too long, or you’ll fall for it again,” the scruff guy said. “Care if I take a seat?”

I measured him up for a moment, wondering if this was another trick, another ploy by some strange creature to get close to me, but when I saw no sign of ill will on his face, I nodded.

“Thanks, I guess,” I eventually said.

The dude gave me a shrug. When he did, a rain of dandruffs descended from his head, and I couldn’t help but inch a tad bit away from him. Now that I had time to get a better look at him, I saw he wasn’t just scruffy. He was dirty, his clothes nothing but rags, and he smelled way worse than I did after five days on the goddamn tram. He had to be a freaking hobo and was probably on the tram for the night to catch some sleep in a warm place.

“How did you know about that… thing?”

The guy chuckled, but then started to talk. When he did, I could smell disgustingly strong liquor on his breath.

“When you live where I do, you catch on to a thing or two. Seen it all before. Almost fell for it myself once.”

“What is it?”

“Haven’t gotten the slightest clue. All I know is that it’s nothing good!”

As I stared ahead, I saw that the woman had already found another guy, and was seductively talking to him. A moment later, I watched as she pressed her mouth against his. When I remembered the beak and scar tissue, I almost gagged.

“What’s it you see?” the guy asked.

“What do you mean?”

“The thing. What’s it look like to you?”

“Brown hair, hazel eyes, wearing jeans and a tank top.”

The guy next to me laughed.

“See, that’s how it gets you. Knows the type of women you like, then shows ‘em to us!”

“What’s she looking like to you, then?” I asked, giving him a slight grin.

“A blond with a pair of killer knockers!”

I almost burst out laughing when I heard that.

At the next station, I watched as the woman got off her seat, the guy she’d sat with trailing after her. I was about to get up, to do something, but right then her head jerked in my direction.

For a moment, I saw a threatening expression before it warped into an open break, revealing rows upon rows of sharp, needle-like teeth. I backed down instantly. Then she dragged the guy from the tram.

My eyes wandered toward the station, toward the two of them. The guy was still grinning like an idiot, enamored by what he assumed to be the girl of his dreams. As they went away, I could see their shadows. His was normal, hers entirely different. It was a giant, lurking, bird-like thing, a bird of prey. The image of a vulture appeared on my mind, one ready to devour its prey.

The tram drove off, leaving the two of them behind, and the guy to whatever terrible fate awaited him.

“So, what’s your deal?” the guy ended the silence.

“What do you-?”

“Been sitting here with no intention of getting off, carrying that damned thing with you. You sure don’t look like no party people to me.”

Guess I really did stick out. In a few words, I told him about the Long Ride, and that I was already on day five. When he heard this, his face grew dark.

“Doing a stupid thing like that,” he mumbled, shaking his head. “Staying on here for so long, even overnight.”

“Aren’t you doing the same thing? I mean, you’re here to catch some sleep, aren’t you?”

“Fuck no! I might live in the streets, but I ain’t stupid! I’m just on here to get away from those damned party people. Can’t sleep with all that shouting and what not. Stayed on here for the night, but it’s not worth it. Not with all the crazy shit happening.”

“Like what?”

He stared at me for a moment, probing me.

“Sure, you must’ve noticed by now. Them people who just up and vanish, strange creatures like that thing before, and those places who shouldn’t be there, but somehow are. Like that one!”

With that, he pointed outside, and I saw we were passing another un-location. This time, it was a scrapyard. It was a huge, constricted place, looking almost labyrinthine.

As I focused on it, I saw its giant heaps comprised nothing but old, rusty toys stacked upon one another. I shuddered when I saw figures shuffling around between them. Their movements: jerky, mechanical. Sparks were flying here and there, and distant clanging sounds reached my ear.

Eventually, I gave the guy a nod and began telling him what I’d seen over the past days. When I told him about the waving man, he cut me off.

“You did what?!” he asked in shock.

“Like I said, I waved back.”

“Goddammit! Tell you what,” he started, leaning over towards me, and staring me deep in the eyes. “You better get off this damned thing right here, right now!”

“Why? I mean… I know I made a mistake, but-“

“You sure did! Seen it before, people getting marked,” he muttered, scratching his neck. “Saw them get on, but never get off again.”

I opened my mouth to say something, but he cut me off right away.

“That thing, it’s marked you, and now others know you’re here, too!”

“What others?”

“God if I know. Might be ghosts. Might be demons. Don’t care either way. All I know is they’re trouble. If I were you, I’d call it quits on this entire stupid thing you’re doing and get off while you still can!”

“Wish I could, but to tell you the truth, I’m more than prepared to sit this one out.”

Once more, the guy shook his head.

“Wouldn’t do it if I were you.”

After he’d said this, he got off his seat.

“Well, time to get going. I sure don’t like taking my chances.”

I gave him a nod.

“Well, thanks for the warning! Ah, hold on. Here, for saving me!”

With that, I handed him the still half-full second bottle of vodka. The guy’s face lit up the moment he saw it. He almost tore it from my hands, and it vanished in one of the many pockets of his jacket.

“Tell you again. Get off while you still can.”

Then he made his way toward the tram’s doors, and once it came to a halt, he left me behind. Outside, I found him looking at me once more, giving me a nod before he walked off.

As I watched him go, his words reverberated inside my head. Marked.

I’d thought he was just some crazy hobo, rambling and talking nonsense. After everything I’d seen, though, everything that had happened, I couldn’t dismiss it.

For the next hour, his warnings came back to me. All the stuff I’d seen, all the insanity, but nothing had happened to me, at least not yet. Two more days. Just two more days. That’s all there was to it. I wouldn’t give up! No, I’d stay!

Deep down, however, I wondered why. Why was I going that far? Was it curiosity? My stupid pride? Or was it something else? Some sort of… connection to all of this?

Marked, the guy had said, I thought, shuddering. What the hell did that even mean?

---

Final Part

Part 3

---

With the sun up, I tried my best to get comfortable and catch some sleep, but before long, the first people on their way to work entered the tram. In frustration, I set out for another toilet break before things got too crowded, and also to change my clothes. I might be a weirdo, or hell, an idiot for doing this Long Ride, but I’d try to at least not look and smell like a freaking hobo.

It didn’t take long, and I soon set out for the tram again. Needless to say, it was still packed, but I knew it wouldn’t last forever. Once the tram approached the city’s outskirts, I could finally return to my trusty row of seats. I put my headphones in, turned on some low-fi chill mix, and settled down for some much needed sleep. I guess I really was exhausted, and promptly slept through the rest of the morning and almost the entire early afternoon.

When I woke up, I had a stiff neck and a painfully twisted back. Those damned tram seats really weren’t comfortable. I cursed at myself for not investing in a traveling pillow.

At around four in the afternoon, after another one of my short, hourly updates, my friend Derek messaged me. He asked if I was fucking with him and posting old videos, or if I was still at it. I assured him I was, but I’d see how it would go from here on out, given certain things that had happened. He asked me what I meant, and I thought about telling him what I’d seen last night, but there was no way he’d believe me.

When he mentioned he was at the city’s central mall at the moment, I got an idea. Sure, I still had some sandwiches left, but by this point, I was sick and tired of the same ham and cheese ones. So I asked Derek if he could get me a few supplies. He told me to just get off the damned tram and get them myself, but I interjected it would break the rules. Then I offered to pay him double for anything he’d bring me. We ended up exchanging a few more messages before he yielded and said he’d do it. I thanked him profusely before I gave him the time my tram would arrive at a station near the mall.

And wouldn’t you know it, there he was, holding two shopping bags in his hand. He noticed me the moment the tram arrived and sat down in the row in front of me.

“You know you’re a freaking idiot, right?” Derek said, laughing. “You’re really set on doing this for an entire week? Why?”

I shrugged.

“Already made it half-way, so I can’t call it quits now.”

“This really is the dumbest thing you’ve ever done. Also, you look like shit, dude.”

“Can’t sleep for shit on a tram, you know?”

“Well, duh, idiot,” he said, shaking his head before he handed me the grocery bags.

The first bag contained an assortment of snacks, some canned food, and a few vegetables. When he handed me the second one, my eyes grew wide. Below a few more packs of snacks, I discovered two bottles of Absolut Vodka.

When I stared at him, he gave me a shrug.

“Thought you’d want a drink every once in a while.”

“Sure do man, sure do. After the shit I’ve seen…”

He raised his eyebrows, but I gave him a dismissive gesture.

“It’s nothing.”

“Well, I got to go. Still got a ton of things to do, and not everyone can keep doing stupid shit all day. You know, some of us got jobs and all that,” he said, giving me a wink.

“Yeah, whatever, man,” I said, laughing, and giving him the finger.

After he’d left, I was on my own again. Got to say, it felt damned good to actually talk to someone. Most of the Long Ride was pretty damned boring.

I guess today would be slightly different, I thought, as I pulled out the first of the two vodka bottles. It was late in the afternoon, anyway, so I might as well have a drink. Hell, after all I’d been through, I deserved it. There was a rule against getting plastered on the tram, of course, and technically against drinking at all, but no one cared enough to enforce it. So, cheers, and bottoms up!

I did my best to be as inconspicuous as possible, but I still got a few glances from people here and there. Especially the hardworking, productive members of society on their way home from work couldn’t help but frown at the idiot drinking from a bottle of hard liquor at five in the afternoon. Yeah, I felt pretty guilty.

As the evening progressed, and I got progressively drunker, I soon noticed strange things again. Same as the day before, there were the same people getting on and off the tram at various stations. Some I’d seen before, others I hadn’t. They still crept me out, even in my drunk state.

The tram also passed weird places again, places I’d never seen before. It felt like the longer I was on, the more consecutive hours I spent huddled in the same spot, the more reality began to waver.

The first one was a giant playground, one much bigger than any other I’d ever seen before. The tram rode past it for almost an entire minute. I saw a giant climbing frame that rose high into the sky, and an entire small town comprising nothing but wooden forts, ladders, and slides. It was nothing short of surreal. Even stranger, now, at night, the place was still populated by an enormous amount of kids. A shiver went down my spine as I watched the going-ons out there.

At one point, I spied something akin to an altar. On it, I saw another child, but one much, much bigger than any child or human should be. Its head slowly turned, and I found it focusing on the tram. When the giant’s eyes met mine, an icy shiver went down my spine, and I couldn’t help but shuffle in my seat. With each moment, I grew more nervous, but thankfully, we soon left the place behind.

I saw the next unreal location, or un-location, as I came to call them, about an hour later. The tram made its way through the alternative part of town and rode past bars and clubs before it eventually approached a building I’d never seen before. While sipping from my bottle of vodka, I stared at it in fascination. The place was exclusively lit by red lights. They were so strong, they felt almost like a physical sensation, bathing the interior of the tram in nothing but purest red.

A wild assortment of signs covered the building’s front, proclaiming it the ‘Destination of Dreams,’ or ‘The Place to be for the Night.’ Above it all, the name ‘Club Red’ sprouted from the wall in giant, neon letters. The entire building was filled to the brim with people, even on a Thursday evening.

As we drove past it, loud music blasted against the side of the tram. It was so loud, I could hear it reverberating inside my head. Yet it wasn’t just any type of music, it was a strangely warped, droning type of music, one you might call psychedelic, but it felt almost too random for that. It was nothing but an assortment of sounds, something trying to have a melody, but not able to by design.

As I continued staring at the building, my eyes began to hurt. At first, I thought it was because of the bright red light, but the longer I focused on it, the more I realized it was the building itself. Things just… didn’t add up.

It’s hard to explain, but the layout made no sense. I stared at the windows, one after another, but there were too many, too many to fit the front of the building. It was the strangest sensation. Imagine a building whose ground floor comprises nothing but four giant windows. Now imagine the floor above has seven windows of exactly the same size, and equally spaced out as the ones below. It shouldn’t work, should be impossible, but they were there.

It was the strangest, optical illusion I ever came upon. While I saw it, my brain couldn’t handle it, couldn’t understand this warping of the laws of physics.

In all those windows, I saw people. They were pushing and shoving against each other. Some were dancing, others leaning outward, and here and there, I even saw them sitting on the window sills.

The building’s size, too, made no sense. It wasn’t big, comprising nothing more than a handful of floors. At least, I thought so at first. The moment we were closer, and I stared upward, I always found another floor above the one I was currently looking at. Each one of them became more and more surreal, bigger and covered in more details, sprouting more windows. I saw balconies, bridges connecting different parts of the building, and staircases that snaked around the building’s outer wall, leading up and down, in and out. It was an amalgamation of architectural madness.

The people seemed normal at first, but the longer I watched the stranger, and the more warped they and their behavior became. At first, they were all just partying, but then… I saw strange figures doing it right there in front of windows and balconies, their forms as twisted as the building they were in. I saw too many heads, too many appendages, bodies that were stretched out or stunted, or seemed to be entirely random. At one point, I even saw some sort of ghastly ritual or sacrifice, performed by beings that could barely even called human anymore.

Finally, I came upon rows and rows of seats, chiseled into the building’s front, reminding me of a concert hall or stadium. It was packed to the brim with similarly distorted people. They were all watching the street below, the tram, and even… me. They were going crazy about it, applauding, laughing and pointing as we rode by.

Each time we rounded a corner, I thought that was it, and we’d leave this impossibility of a place behind, but we never did. Every corner greeted me with yet another part of it, another building front, each one stranger than the last, and in each one more twisted and deprived things were happening; a never-ending menagerie of the insane. After we’d rounded more than a dozen corners, I just couldn’t handle it anymore. My head hurt too much. Instead, I focused on the other side of the road. All the while, the building’s bright red light still flooded the tram, and its ghastly droning music reverberated inside my head.

And then, in the blink of an eye, it was over. The red light vanished, as did the music, and the tram continued on its normal course. I turned around and stared back, but all I saw was a long, straight road that led past well-known clubs and bars. I know I should’ve been unsettled, should’ve been freaking out, but I was fascinated. It almost seemed like I was getting used to the strangeness of these un-locations, and they’d become a… normal part of my nights.

Or maybe I was just getting way too drunk.

A few minutes later, I took out my phone, and looked for a place called ‘Club Red,’ but I already knew what I’d find: nothing. There was no sign of any such club ever having existed in my city, and to be honest, I was more than happy about it.

Finally, I settled down in my seat, turned up my music, and took another sip of vodka before I drifted off to sleep.

When I awoke, I felt slightly hungover, but still pleasantly buzzed. My neck, however, was in terrible pain yet again. I cursed, rubbed it for a good minute, before I shrugged and had another sip of vodka. Who knows, maybe it would numb the pain and help me go to sleep again.

It was only when I’d opened the bottle that I realized the tram wasn’t empty anymore. No, it was packed. As if this wasn’t strange enough, the tram was entirely quiet. No one was speaking. No one was moving. Everyone was just sitting in their seats, unmoving, and staring straight ahead. Even the sounds of the tram itself were barely audible, and seemed strangely muffled.

I instantly knew something was wrong. Even though I felt cold, sweat broke out all over my body. For a moment, I just sat there, trying to hide my presence, but after a while, drunk curiosity won over far.

I turned my head to see the person sitting in the row next to mine. What I saw made me freeze. Not normal. This was not a normal person! Their face was undescriptive. It looked almost like a… blank slate, as if someone had forgotten to add all the characteristics and details that made someone a real human being.

The person was only about a meter from me away, yet I couldn’t tell if they were a man or a woman, or if they were human at all. My drunk eyes wandered over the rest of the passengers near me, and they were all exactly the same. All of them were… empty, for lack of a better word. As I focused on one of them, I noticed they were not only unmoving, but they weren’t doing anything. No blinking, no breathing, nothing at all.

Even in my drunk state, after downing almost an entire bottle of vodka over the course of the night, fear washed over me in heavy waves. Seeing these weird, surreal things outside was one thing. You felt strangely safe inside the tram, protected by its mighty steel chassis, but now, now it was happening inside as well!

I felt very, very vulnerable, and was terrified. I began to shudder uncontrollably, and had to will myself to be quiet, to not move. What the hell were those things, and why were they here?

Once more, my eyes darted around before I told myself to stop. Do nothing. Just sit here and wait till they are gone. Don’t let them notice you. If they do, if they realize you’re here, they might- No, stop! Calm down!

I put one of hands on my knee to stop my legs from shaking, while I clutched onto the vodka bottle with the other like it was a safety anchor, and continued drinking, hoping to numb my brain.

Then I turned to look outside, to distract myself by watching the city pass by. The be honest, I’d expected to find another un-location outside, the place these things originated from, but this time, the outside was just… empty. There was no city. All I saw was uniform, shapeless terrain and a dark sky. It was as empty as the people around me. Another undescriptive blank slate. Where the hell was I? How’d I ended up in a place like this?

When I saw the tram approaching a tunnel, I started shaking again. I almost lost it and freaked the hell out. This didn’t feel like the other un-locations I’d seen before. This felt different.

So far, there was one thing that had always stayed the same. The tram was always outdoors, no matter how much its surroundings had changed. But now, now… I wondered if this was the end, the actual end. If this tunnel would just swallow me up, never to return.

I cursed at myself to stop once more. Just go back to sleep or wait till morning. And yet, I couldn’t. All I could do was to watch the tunnel’s dark walls pass by me.

Then, after long minutes, the tram left the tunnel behind and we arrived at a station, if you can call it that. It was a quiet, unrefined place. There were no lights, no details, no maps or departure schedules. It was nothing but a single, empty platform.

The moment the tram stopped and opened its doors, all these strange, blank people got to their feet, and in unison filled out of the tram. The air that wafted into the tram differed from any I’d ever encountered. At first, I didn’t know what was wrong with it, before I realized there was absolutely nothing to it. It was the weirdest sensation, for there was no sensation at all. No cold or warm feeling, no smell, simply an absence of… anything.

After only a single minute, I was all alone. I stared outside, and watched as the people just walked away, and soon vanished in the dark of the night.

It wasn’t long before the tram’s driver, a different one than the one I’d spoken to before, approached me. He hurried through the tram car, his face distorted by a mixture of fear and confusion.

“We’ve made it, sir,” he said in a shaken voice. “This is the end. You’ve got to get off. You’ve reached your destination.”

For a moment, I just stared at him, then towards the tram doors and the dark, featureless plain outside, and shivered.

“N-no, I can’t! I’ve got to get back to the city. Whatever this place is, I don’t belong here!” I almost screamed at him in my drunken state.

When he heard my voice, his eyes grew wide, and he stumbled back. He measured me up and down, saw my backpack and the bottle I was holding. He opened his mouth, about to say something, but then closed it again. A few seconds later, he just nodded, and without another word, he headed back to the driver’s cabin.

We stayed at this strange location for a while longer, and I could feel the driver watching me via the tram’s security camera. I don’t know what this place was. I don’t know how I ended up there, but I knew I shouldn’t have. It was place not on any map, a place that couldn’t be reached, yet somehow I was there. It was a place, I felt, even further detached from reality than all those other un-locations I’d come upon before.

Eventually, I opened up bottle number two, took a long sip, and settled back in my seat, and like clockwork, the tram’s doors closed and we drove on. After only ten minutes, we were back in the regular city. It was an instantaneous change, one I missed entirely. One moment, I was staring at the same shapeless terrain outside, the next, I stared at a normal street in my city.

I breathed a sigh of relief, and yet, every once in a while, a strange feeling washed over me, and I could’ve sworn I saw something that shouldn’t be there. I never caught on to these warpings, and they were only ever there for the blink of an eye, but I knew something was changing.

Even in my drunk, tired state, I realized this. And yet, what was it exactly that was changing? Was it the world, reality, or was it… me?

---

Part 5

Part 2

---

After last night’s encounter with the group of thugs, I was quite shaken. I’d prepared myself for angry glances and insults, but not the prospect of being beaten to a pulp. Still, I continued on, not knowing what day three would hold in store for me…

I still kept to people watching, and I still made up stories about the few companions I had during the quieter hours of the day, but not in an overly annoying fashion. That’s how I came to notice a certain middle-aged woman. She wore a long skirt, a blue sweater, and had her hair tied in a ponytail. At first glance, there was nothing unusual about her. She was just another passenger, getting on at point A and off at point B. But then, I saw her again, entering the tram at a different station further down the line.

At first, I thought I was mistaken, and my eyes were playing tricks on me. In a city of more than half a million people, surely some could look similar. As I watched her more closely, I noticed the same skirt, same sweater, and even the ponytail. No, it was her. This was impossible. She’d gotten off ten minutes ago, a few kilometers back. There was no way she could’ve reached this station so quickly. Unease watched over me when she disembarked again, only to reappear fifteen stations later. I counted seven times she boarded the tram at entirely different locations within an hour and a half.

Yet she wasn’t the only one. There were others, just like her. One was an older man, about fifty years of age. He wore a suit, carried a briefcase, and I saw him five times. Some were children, just laughing children, entering the tram on their own, leaving, only to reenter again. They only ever appeared when the tram was empty, or almost empty. At least, that’s when I caught sight of them. Whenever I did, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. They did nothing; never looked at me or approached me. No, they just rode the tram.

At one point, my eyes met those of an older woman during her fourth ‘iteration’ as I came to call it, but she didn’t even bat an eye and gave me no attention. Still, these people were amongst the most unsettling things I’d noticed so far, and I made sure to stay clear of them.

Another passenger was a young man, dressed entirely in black. I first noticed him in the early evening hours. He entered the tram and stayed on it, just like I did. For long hours, he just sat there, in the same seat. At times, he stared outside, watching the scenery, but at others, he watched the people around him. Occasionally, I even found him staring my way. When he did, an unexplainable wave of fear washed over me, and I couldn’t help but squirm in my seat.

The reason was his face. He wasn’t merely staring, but grinning. His grin was comically wide, almost dividing his face. Yet he wasn’t focusing on anyone. Instead, he seemed to just grin to himself. It was the strangest thing.

At one point, I saw him lean forward, his grin stretching wider and wider, until his face hovered inches from the woman beside him. She stiffened, clearly freaked-out, but never looked his way, almost like she couldn’t see him. She was far from his only victim. He did it to countless other passengers, and none of them called him out on his creepy behavior.

The longer this went on, the longer I watched him, the more often I found him staring my way. As much as I told myself to ignore him and not to attract his attention, I just couldn’t. I was driven by the strangest sense of curiosity. This guy, whoever he was, or… whatever he was, was just wrong.

It was shortly past midnight when I noticed the change. For the first time, the guy wasn’t grinning to himself anymore. No, he was grinning at me. I saw how he leaned forward in his seat, his hands on its edge, as if he was about to push himself up at any moment. I tried my best to ignore him, but whenever I took a sideway glance, he was still doing the same thing. My heart began pounding, and I felt my palms getting sweaty. With each passing second, I was growing more and more nervous, more fidgety, and eventually anxious.

When I couldn’t take it anymore, I was about to get up, to leave my trusty row of seats behind and flee to the back of the tram. Then, already halfway up, I stopped. The strangest of feelings washed over me, one that told me to stay right where I was. If I moved now, he’d get me. My heart was pounding in my chest and I was trembling, but I told myself to stay put. I felt like a little boy again, terrified, frozen, cornered by a neighbor’s guard dog, its rusty chain the only thing keeping it at bay, powerless to do anything. I could see the anticipation on the guy’s face, his wide eyes, the way his feet shuffled over the ground, and his posture, ready to pounce on me the moment I got up.

Finally, after more than half an hour of this game of sitting duck, he just got up and left the tram. Outside, he simply walked off without so much as looking back at me. A sigh of relief escaped me, and I slumped back in my chair, finally able to relax. I had no clue what was wrong with that guy. Maybe he was just some asshole trying to fuck with me, but after everything that had happened, I believe he was something far worse. Yet, as terrifying as this encounter was, it shouldn’t be the most terrifying thing I would witness on day three.

It was later that night, as I sat in my seat, unable to fall asleep, that I noticed changes to the scenery. I told myself it was because of the night, the darkness, and my sleep deprived mind, but I’d now ridden this damned tram for two and a half days. I knew the areas it passed through. Hell, I knew what buildings were at what station.

Station 17: a giant mall.

Station 44: an old hardware store.

And so on.

Yet that night I occasionally saw different places, areas that were still part of my city, but were also… different.

At one point, the tram passed through a street lined by nothing but giant, derelict tower blocks. Before long, even the tracks themselves seemed to deteriorate. The tram rambled on through this forlorn area, shaking slightly. We were there for almost a quarter of an hour, and never stopped at any station, which is absolutely impossible. On the way back, we never passed that area again, almost as if it never existed.

At other times, the tram veered into impossible bends or around corners that shouldn’t exist, winding through half-hidden streets and alleys from forgotten parts of the city. They were too narrow, too claustrophobic. Whenever we reached one of these places, I couldn’t help but stare outside, driven by an unnatural sense of curiosity. Some streets were so narrow, the tram was only a few inches away from the walls, allowing me to steal glances through open doors and windows.

What I saw was… utterly surreal. I told myself I had to be dreaming, and all of this was nothing but a weird dream. Hell, maybe a hallucination conjured by being perpetually stuck on a tram. Yet, somehow, it felt too real, looked too real… and so I looked on with wide eyes. In one window, I was greeted by four people. They weren’t just inside their apartment, but were leaning out the window, their face almost pressed against the passing tram. Their eyes were empty, their faces without emotions. When they were right beside me, I couldn’t help but inch away from the window, afraid they’d do… something.

In another window, one belonging to a tiny inconspicuous building, I saw a giant hall that stretched on without end. I saw only the floor, but no walls or ceiling. It just continued on endlessly, and was much, much too large for the building it contained. Yet from the far back, in the darkness of the most distant parts of the hall, I thought I saw eyes watching me.

Eventually, the tram approached the station in one such area and came to a halt. Outside, the entire area was shrouded in shadows. After a brief moment, I made out a figure. At first I thought it was a drunk, given their strange posture. Then my eyes adjusted to the darkness, and I realized it was something entirely. It wasn’t a person, but some sort of… deformed thing. Its limbs sprouted from places they shouldn’t, and were bent at strange angles as if they had too many joints in them.

As the tram stood there, it cooked its head slightly in my direction. Then its head pushed forward, the neck stretching further and further, much further than should be possible. Sweat broke out all over my body when the ghastly creature’s eyes wandered over my body. This time, it wasn’t just fear that came over me, it was full on panic. My body started shaking uncontrollably. I had to cling to the seat in front of me to keep my panic at bay and not to lose it.

Then the thing moved, approaching the tram door on its long, spidery limbs. Its motions were jerky, as if controlled by an invisible puppeteer; no fluidity, no life, stop-motion animation given flesh. And yet, the thing appeared ready, like a stalking, insectoid predator, ready to strike its prey at a moment’s notice.

As it took these first few steps, I hoped, prayed, it would stay away, but finally panic took over. I jerked up in my seat, yelled, screamed through the empty tram for it to go away. Until, finally, the doors closed, and we left the walking nightmare behind.

For the next minutes, I sat in my chair, eyes closed, knees below my chin, rocking back and forth like a scared little child. Eventually, when I opened my eyes again, all was normal, and the tram continued on its usual route for the rest of the night.

By now it’s early morning, but I still haven’t slept. I couldn’t. Whenever I was about to doze off, I was afraid I’d end up at another surreal location, and this time, the creature would enter the tram.

When the sun came up, I thought about giving up and calling it quits. Then I thought about it. I was on day three, on day fucking three. If I stopped now, my friends would never let it go. Even worse, I had told myself I was going to do this the full week. I thought about all the things I’d wanted to do before, only to give up halfway-through. No, this wouldn’t be another one of them.

Most importantly, though, as horrifying as all of this was, I couldn’t deny it had a pull on me. It was fascinating, more fascinating than anything I’d ever seen. This was no longer a stupid dare. It was a glimpse into a twisted, secret world hidden in plain sight, and I wanted to see more of it. If I were to get off now, I’d probably regret it, and be left wondering what else might have happened on the Long Ride.

---

Part 4

Part 1

---

After sitting on a tram for over twenty-four hours, I realized just how beautiful my city truly is. It’s breathtaking, full of old architecture, nice little parks, and a riverside panorama few other cities can compare to.

That morning, I actually took my first toilet break. I don’t know how I lasted that long, but the moment I went, it was heaven.

The early hours of the day went by as usual. Once again, the tram was overcrowded, and a few times I noticed people staring at me angrily for not making room or moving my gigantic backpack aside. Well, tough luck. This row is my home for the entire week. Yes, I specifically chose where I sat. Second tram car, third row from the back.

The first interesting thing of the day was an encounter with an old man. He must’ve entered the tram between nine and ten in the morning. I only remember because I’d just taken another short video for my friends, and there he was, sitting only a few rows ahead of me. It seemed almost as if he’d appeared out of nowhere. Must’ve snuck in at the last stop, I reasoned.

Strangely enough, he just sat there as the tram continued on to the end of the line, and remained seated as the tram turned around and went back the way it came. I couldn’t help but smile, but was also a tad bit confused. Were other people doing the same dumb thing as me? Just riding the tram back and forth for no reason? Well, who knows, maybe he’s a bored old man with nothing to do. Maybe he just enjoys tram rides or the scenery. Hell, he might just be taking a brief detour before getting to his destination.

I tried not to be bothered by him, but whenever I looked up from my book, he was still there, going back and forth with me. As I munched on another sandwich and some crackers, I couldn’t help but stare at the back of his head. It was two in the afternoon, and by now, he must’ve been on the tram for at least for hours. What the hell was he up to? By this point, he was unnerving me.

A few minutes later, he got up, and I breathed a sigh of relief, thinking he was about to get off. Instead, he took a seat near me, and turned his bald head towards me. I instantly noticed something was wrong with him. His eyes looked glassy, almost hazy. What was weirder, though, was his outfit. It just… didn’t fit. It reminded me of something I’d seen in an old family photo album, a style popular half a century ago.

“Interesting to see someone here for as long as me,” he finally said.

I just stared at him, surprised by the gentle, well-meaning tone of his voice.

“Oh yeah, it’s… a dare between friends? To see how long I can last.”

“Young people these days,” he mused. “But I sure did my share of stupid things back in my days.”

“How come you’re on so long yourself? Are you enjoying the ride, the scenery?”

He was quiet, and for a few moments, he just stared outside, watching the city pass by.

“Well, you aren’t wrong, young man. I’ve been on here for quite some time, longer than I would’ve ever guessed, but it’s interesting to see things change. New lines, new stations. Feels just like yesterday that I rode on Line 5 to the main station…”

What he’d just said made no sense. There was no Line 5. Sure, there’d been one, but it had been discontinued more than two decades ago.

“Wasn’t Line 5 discontinued?”

“Ah, yes, you’re right. But once you’ve been here for as long as me, you sometimes forget these types of things.”

“What do you…? How long have you been on here?”

An icy feeling washed over me. Something didn’t add up. Not just his eyes or his outfit, but the things he said.

“Much too long, young man, but that’s just how it is for some of us. We can ride on and on, but we’ll never reach our destination.”

“The hell’s that supposed to-?”

“You should be careful, young man. This place, like many others, has its dangers, especially for those who linger, who stay on for too long,” he said, getting up.

I didn’t know what to say. Instead, I was quiet, and simply watched as he walked toward the tram car ahead of us. As I watched, I noticed something was wrong with the way he walked. He trudged on, as if every step took tremendous effort. His legs were strangely bent, his back slouched and twisted, almost as if it was… broken.

Then, for a single second, I saw something that made me cringe back in terror. It was there for the briefest moment, but the ghastly vision burnt itself into my eyes. The well-dressed old man was gone, replaced by a mangled, twisted corpse. Its chest was caved in, almost torn apart, and its arms dangled limply at its side, completely broken. The worst were its legs. They were nothing but a ground mass of flesh and shattered bone.

I was left trembling, drenched in cold sweat, my heart pounding. Then it was over, and once again, I saw nothing but an old man. He turned to me once more, a well-knowing, sad look on his face before he gave me a brief nod that seemed to say ‘be careful.’

Right at that moment, my phone vibrated, notifying me about a new message. I jerked and almost dropped it before I turned back toward the old man, or rather, where he’d been. I scanned the tram ahead of me, then behind me, but he’d just… vanished. Sitting in my seat, I couldn’t help but shiver. What the hell had just happened? I thought of the mangled, twisted version of him, the things he’d talked about. Had I just been visited by a freaking… ghost?

For the rest of the day, I couldn’t help but think about him. In the afternoon, the tram filled up again, then emptied, before the process repeated itself in the evening. As it turned late, I settled back in my seat, put on some relaxing music, and prepared myself for some much-needed hours of rest, hopefully a few more than yesterday.

Almost unconsciously, I watched the few other late-night passengers on the tram with me. In my mind, I gave them names and made up stories about them. A few seats ahead of me sat Jenny, a young woman in her mid-twenties, who was on her way home after a late shift at the nursing home. Further ahead sat old Rupert, a bachelor in his early sixties, who’d just enjoyed a performance at the state theater. It was strange, but I almost felt connected to these people, as if they were my people, the citizens of Tramonia, a nation comprising nothing but this one lone tram, going back and forth forever.

Eventually, a group of drunk guys got on. They were a loud, rowdy bunch, walking up and down the tram car, howling obscenities, and dangling from handrails like the idiots they were. I couldn’t help but watch them intently. They were breaking the law of Tramonia, I thought, and needed to be punished.

As I sat there, half-nodding off, and watching them, I tried to come up with ideas on how Tramonia handled crime. I didn’t realize that one of them had long since noticed me. His expression wasn’t one of mild curiosity. No, he looked pissed, or at least up for trouble.

“The fuck you staring at, dickweed?” he called out to me.

I jerked up in my seat and instantly averted my eyes.

“Think you’re better than us, huh?” I heard one of them mumble.

Soon after, all three of them set out for me. Shit, now I’d done it.

“Yo, bro, what’s up?” one of them asked as he sat down in front of me.

His breath stank of liquor, almost making me gag, but I tried my best to turn away and ignore him.

“Hey, we’re talking to you!” his friend spat at me.

“Nothing, just on my way home,” I mumbled.

“Oh, is that so?” the one in front of me asked in a cruel, sing-song voice.

I gave him another ‘yeah,’ and tried my best to stare out the window. This landed me a slap against the back of my head, followed by guffawing from his friends.

“The fuck are you-?”

I didn’t get to finish my curse because one of them grabbed me by the throat, raising his fist.

“You think you can fuck with us, bro?”

Right at that moment, the driver’s voice reached us via the intercom, telling them to knock it off. The guys stared at each other, surprised and dumbfounded, but with no intention of leaving me alone. A second announcement by the driver followed, this one more serious. He assured them he had no problem stopping the tram right here and calling the cops.

This time, they released me, and after a few more insults, walked away. A few stations later, they thankfully got off the tram for good, but not without giving me a few more angry glances.

When we pulled into the end of the line station, a place where trams occasionally powered down during the late hours of the night, the driver approached me.

“Hey there, not to bother you, but I’ve noticed you’ve been on the tram for quite a while now. What exactly are you up to?”

“Well, I’m trying to get home, but-“

“You’ve been trying to get home for the past five hours?”

Shit, he got me.

“All right, to be honest, it’s a bet,” I said, giving him an embarrassed laugh.

He raised his eyebrows, waiting for me to continue.

“I told my friends I’d be able to stay on the tram for an entire week without getting off.”

For a moment, he just stared at me before he furrowed his brow.

“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard,” he said, shaking his head.

“Yeah, it really is,” I agreed.

“Well, not like I can kick you off for something like that. You’ve got a ticket on you, right?”

“Sure thing, got myself a weekly pass just for the Long Ride.”

Once more, he raised his eyebrows, and I was quick to tell him it was the name I came up with for this entire thing.

“Well, it’s dumb, really freaking dumb, but as long as you don’t cause any trouble, that’s it. Just try to stay clear of guys like the ones before.”

“Sure thing, boss.”

With that, the conversation was over, and the driver went outside to have a smoke.

About half an hour later, the tram started up again, the ride continued, and I settled down to sleep.

---

Part 3

I came up with the idea for the Long Ride a few days ago. My friends and I got together on Friday evening to share stories and have a few beers.

Before long, I ended up completely plastered. As I sat there, trying my best not to fall off my chair, my friend said something that got the gears in my brain turning, albeit slowly.

“I’m sure I can do it,” I slurred.

“Do what?” one of my friend, James, asked, turning to me.

“What that Punchy guy did, the thing Derek just mentioned, about riding the subway back and forth.”

“It’s Pynchon, dude,” Derek corrected me with a sigh. “He didn’t even do it; he just wrote about it in one of his books.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, I’m sure I can do it, too! And I can do it for an entire week.”

“The hell are you even talking about?”

“Riding the tram back and forth without getting off,” I answered.

“Why’d you even do that?”

“Because I fucking can!”

“This has got to be the dumbest thing you ever came up with…” Derek mumbled, shaking his head.

---

That’s how it started. The next day, I awoke to a splitting headache and a terrible hangover. While I lay in bed, my head spinning, I remembered what I’d said. I was instantly fired up again, and still set on doing it.

When I hit up my friends via WhatsApp and told them, they were less than enthusiastic, and didn’t seem to care. Yet I was more than ready to spend the rest of the weekend preparing for the Long Ride. I’d spend the entire week riding the tram without ever getting off!

Well, almost, I thought, and came up with a simple set of rules, which I promptly shared with my friends in a newly created WhatsApp group. First, no getting off the tram, not to sleep, and not to get supplies. The only exception was going to the toilet, which I only allowed myself at one specific station. I also told my friends I’d update them with a short video every other hour, so they’d know I was still on the tram.

The more I thought about it, the more I realized how right they’d been. This really was the dumbest thing I’d ever come up with. Yet, I couldn’t help but be very excited about it. To be honest, my life was boring, and the same every-day mundanity had gnawed at my sanity for way too long. No, I wanted to do something, something weird that no one had done before, an adventure. I also hoped that I’d at least witness a few interesting or strange things along the way.

---

At 8AM the next morning, I entered my tram line of choice, Line 4. It was by far the single longest line, going from one end of my city all the way to the other. A single one-way trip lasted roughly an hour and a half.

I also made sure I was prepared, and had stocked up on pretty much anything I’d need. I got my Kindle, a couple of other books, three fully charged power banks, and enough food and water to last me the week. The last thing I’d gotten was a change of clothes, just in case. All of this I put away in a gigantic camping backpack half the size of a person.

In the early morning, the city’s trams were an over-crowded hell, filled to the brim with people going to work and students on their way to school or university. Thankfully, I found a seat and settled down with my giant backpack. Then I put in my headphones and blasted loud music into my ears to drown out the general bustle.

Morning slowly bled into noon, and soon only a dozen other passengers remained. For the first time in a while, I actually looked at my surroundings, the city, and the other people on the tram. Usually, I was occupied with either my phone or my Kindle.

Yet the first hours of the long Ride were relatively uneventful. The only thing of note was an older lady, who sat near me, and took offense when I began eating one of the many sandwiches I’d prepared for myself. She ranted on about how I wasn’t allowed to eat on the tram and pointed at a row of prohibition signs above us. I simply ignored her and continued eating with a slight grin on my face. Eventually, she left me alone, shaking her head, and muttering about how us ‘young people don’t know any manners anymore.’ Yeah, fuck you too, lady. She was on the tram for another half hour, and for the entire duration, she stared daggers at me. At least, she didn’t go through on her promise to inform the driver and have me kicked off. That would’ve been a rather anticlimactic ending to the Long Ride, I thought, laughing to myself.

The first strange thing I noticed happened in the afternoon, but I’m still unsure what to make of it. Around that time, the tram fills up with people again. Some were students from the nearby university, others people getting off work, and, of course, children on their way home after a long day at school.

It wasn’t long before my eyes wandered to a group of seven kids. They were loud, yelling at each other, laughing and blasting their music for everyone to hear. God, how I hated them. As I watched them with growing disdain, about to tell them to knock it off, I noticed something. Two of the kids looked exactly the same. Brothers, I reasoned, or maybe twins. Yet they couldn’t have been more different. One of them was as energetic as the rest, while the other just stood there, unmoving, merely watching the rest, who seemed to ignore him.

At first, I thought nothing of it, but the longer I watched the stranger the situation appeared. The kid never moved, but after a while, his dejected, uninterested look slowly changed to a grin, an almost hungry grin, directed solely at his brother. This went on for almost fifteen minutes. His friends never noticed his weird behavior, and the kid never noticed me staring at him. I told myself he was just a child, being a child, but… That face-splitting grin. It wasn’t normal. That’s not what a child should look like. Hell, could look like!

I leaned forward, phone in hand, ready to snap a picture when the tram came to a halt. Amongst the general bustle of exciting passengers, I lost track of the kids.

After a few moments, I saw them again, now outside, at the station. Now, however, there were only six of them. One of the brothers was gone, and only the strange one, the one with that ghastly grin, was left. Once again, he just stood there, next to his group of friends, doing nothing. As I stared at him, I couldn’t help how he carried his body. He seemed tense, ready to do… something.

While I still stared at him, the tram doors closed. In that instant, the kid’s head jerked in my direction. His face was still distorted by the same grin, but his wide eyes focused on me alone. He opened his mouth wider than should be possible. And then, he jumped forward, as if to throw himself through the glass and right at me. My heart skipped a beat, and I cringed back from the window, almost toppling over my backpack, sending a few of my supplies onto the tram’s floor. Within moments, and thanks to a few helpful passengers, I was quick to pick everything up. When I stared back outside, the kid was gone, and now hurried after his group of friends, seemingly without a care in the world. I told myself he was just a kid, being a kid, and had acted stupid when he noticed me staring at him. That face, however, that mouth…

Yet there’s one other thing that puzzled me: the number of kids. There had been seven before, but only six had gotten off. I scanned the interior of the tram, trying to find the missing kid to see if he’d stayed behind, but there was no hint of him. He’d simply vanished. Then I shook my head and told myself I was being stupid. He probably got off with the rest, and rushed off on his own, leaving the rest behind. That’s all there was to it, and with that, the matter was settled.

The general bustle of the day soon evened out, only to pick up once again in the evening, when people set out to hit the bars, or meet up with friends. I nodded off at about eleven in the evening.

At two in the morning, I was jerked awake and almost pulled off my seat. When I opened my eyes, I found myself face to face with some asshole who’d tried to get a hold of my backpack. Yet I was no idiot. Before I’d gone to sleep, I’d made sure to carefully wrap the backpack’s strap around my arm. For a few seconds, the guy stared at me, a dumbfounded look on his face before he realized what was going on. A moment later, the tram came to a halt, and he rushed outside.

I could only stare at him. That asshole had just tried to steal my stuff! After he was gone, and I’d made sure nothing was missing, I settled back down, trying to get some more sleep.

---

Part 2

Many people would agree that getting lost at a trade fair is easy, especially if you’ve got a terrible sense of direction.

The day I got lost was entirely different.

I was working. Theoretically. My colleague Frank and I were sent to represent our food company at one of the country’s biggest trade fair. It’s not a great job. No, it sucks. Our boss couldn’t be bothered to pay for any of the extra baggage. No compensation for traveling, and no extra pay for setting up the stall. Even worse, our hours were long, we’d have to man the stall from early morning until late in the afternoon, and pretend to be as happy to be there as the fair’s many visitors. All the while, our boss insisted we wore those ridiculous caps with our company’s name on it.

Yet Frank and I had a little arrangement to make the best of our shitty situation. The man had been in the trade business for most of his life, and knew trade fairs inside-out. He explained things would go slowly in the early morning and the late evening. During those times, one person was enough to man the stall, allowing the other to roam the place, relax, or take a quick nap.

The fair we attended that day was huge. It was held at a giant, sprawling building complex comprising various halls, outer areas, restaurants and much more, all connected by a maze-like network of hallways. It was the equivalent of a small town. After we’d finished getting the stall ready for business, Frank volunteered to take care of the morning shift. I quickly agreed. I’d wanted to have a look around ever since we arrived. Usually, it wasn’t a luxury we could afford, since we’re trapped in our stall.

I liked food, especially meat, and when I saw that an entire hall centered on exotic meat products, I had to check it out. I wished Frank the best of luck, stuffed the stupid cap in my pocket, and set out on my merry way. Being the idiot I am, I just started walking, and promptly got lost. The place really was huge, gigantic even, and worse, everything looked the same. After finding and tinkering with one of the interactive map displays, I first figured out where I was, and where I had to go: Hall 19. It wasn’t long before I got lost again. In frustration, I consulted another map display, and learned I’d somehow taken a wrong turn, and was no in Hall 12.

Great, that was in an entirely different wing of the complex. This time, I snapped a picture of the map and followed it to the letter. Whenever I entered a new hall, I checked the big sign telling me which one it was, and cross-checked my position on the map. I left Hall 12, walked past Hall 11, and eventually through Hall 9. All that was left was to cross Hall 14, and I’d reached my goal.

After crossing Hall 14, however, and following another hallway, I suddenly found myself in front of Hall 24. I was dumbfounded and pulled out my phone again. For almost a minute, I went over the map, but no matter how much I searched, I couldn’t find a Hall 24. The highest hall number I found was 22. Still confused, and not sure what to do, I entered Hall 24. After stumbling around for a while, I found another map display. The small red dot told me I was indeed in Hall 24. I frowned. How the hell was there even a Hall 24?

When I compared the map in front of me to the one on my phone, I noticed that it was entirely different. It was bigger, and several halls had been added to it. For a moment, a strange feeling washed over me, and my eyes darted around looking for… I don’t know what. Everything around me was normal. Visitors were checking out stalls, talking to sales representatives or indulging in the various samples.

Soon enough, something made me look up. So far, I’d hurried over the fair, not giving any of the stalls a closer look. Now that I did, I noticed how strange their products were. Right in front of me, a stall was presenting a fruit called Fallarius. By that point, I’d been working in the food industry for almost a decade, and considered myself having a solid grasp on it. Yet in all those years, I’d never heard of a Fallarius. When I googled it, I came up with a big, fat zero.

With my interest piqued, I approached the stall. Who knows, it might be one of those weird new mix-breeds that had grown in popularity. Even from afar, I could already smell a sweet, almost alluring fragrance. The fruit I saw, however, looked unlike anything I’d ever seen before. It was a slimy, bright orange thing, covered in spiky fur. The moment I’d made it to the counter, the smell was so strong, I couldn’t help but reach out for it in fascination. Yet when my fingers made contact, the thing twitched, produced a disgusting wet squeak, and a disgusting, rancid liquid spurted from it. Cursing, I cringed back, landing me a few annoyed glances and even more giggles.

For a few moments, I stood there, staring at the stall and the weird orange fruit in confusion, wondering what the hell that thing was. Then I shook my head, and instead of pondering on it, went on my way. Phone in hand, and staring at my map, I tried to backtrack my route. After following what I assumed to be the same hallway I’d entered from, I should’ve been back in Hall 14. Yet when I entered, the hall’s layout was entirely different, even the air was. It was stale and oppressive, and I soon saw why.

The sign told me I’d somehow ended up in Hall 27. How the hell…? I’d followed the same damned hall! I should be back in Hall 14! My eyes darted around. To my right should be an exit leading to the outer area, but it was just… gone. Instead, I saw another hallway, one that supposedly led to Hall 31. I laughed. What the hell was going on? There shouldn’t be a Hall 31. Hell, there shouldn’t even be a Hall 27, and I should be in freaking Hall 14! At least, if I was to trust the map on my phone.

For the next few minutes, I stumbled on, trying my best to ignore the strange, unknown products all around me. Here and there, I stopped, desperately searching for a map display, but I found none. Suddenly, someone called out to me.

“Can I help you, sir?”

When I turned around, I saw an info desk worker. The woman had stopped a few meters away from me and must’ve noticed my predicament.

“Yeah, sorry, I guess I got lost,” I admitted, giving her an embarrassed laugh.

The woman laughed, too, or rather, giggled. It was a strange, throaty giggle. When I focused on her, I saw that most of her face was hidden behind thick strands of greasy hair.

“I’ve been trying to find Hall 19, but the maps are…”

My voice trailed off. The longer I stared at that woman, the more I felt that something was wrong with her. She just stood there, and I watched as she pulled out a crude electronic contraption and focused on it.

“Problem with maps,” she started, her voice much quieter now, half-whispered.

It sounded entirely wrong, and was slightly crackling, as if there was a metallic component to it, reminding me of a faulty recording. It was grating, and every word stabbed in my ears.

“Old version,” she finally added.

What the hell was she going on about? This was one of the biggest, most prestigious fairs in the entire country. Why’d they display old versions of the map, and how’d they added more than a dozen new buildings to the complex? No, this didn’t at up. Not at all!

“Where you want to go, sir?” she asked in her strange, half-whispered voice.

She still hadn’t moved and still hadn’t bothered to brush aside her hair. Once again, I couldn’t help but wonder what was wrong with her, with her voice! Her English was over-accentuated, but it also sounded like it took her tremendous effort to bring out each individual word. I hesitated.

“Hall 19,” I eventually said.

“Not far.”

With that, she turned around and started walking. The way she moved was as unnatural as the way she spoke. Instead of stepping forward, she merely shuffled her feet, dragging herself forward as if something was wrong with her legs. It made her entire body move in a shambling motion.

“Coming, sir?” she asked after a few moments, but didn’t even bother to look around.

Instead of moving on, I watched her. A voice in the back of my head told, not to follow her. This woman wasn’t normal!

“No. I mean… I’m sure I can find it on my own. Thank you very much.”

Without waiting for her to say anything, I hurried away. I half-ran past stalls and visitors. Only when I’d made it past a corner did I feel safe enough to relax. I took a deep breath before I looked around again, trying to find my bearings.

After only a few seconds, I had the same half-whispered voice again. An icy shower went down my spine.

“Can I help you, sir?”

It sounded exactly the same as before. The same grating, mechanical, and over-accentuated English. When I looked over my shoulder, I saw her. She was only a few meters behind me, staring at me from behind those thick, greasy strands of hair. I couldn’t help but shiver. Why the hell was she following me? What did she want?

Instead of saying anything, I jerked around and dashed towards a hallway, and fled to another hall.

The one I ended up in was even more different. Things didn’t add up anymore. The layout made no sense. The stalls had been placed haphazardly, without rhyme or reason. When I checked the sign above to find out where I’d ended up at, I couldn’t help but laugh. It was a mad, frustrated, almost futile laugh. Where the hall number should’ve been, I saw nothing but strange symbols. The stalls, too, were covered in them.

The products presented were even stranger than the Fallarius I’d seen before. They were alien and seemed half alive. A nearby stall sold jars filled with giant, wriggling maggots. Another comprised nothing but purplish moss, and yet another was selling what I could only assume were colonies of twitching skin.

I rushed past stalls, and the disgusting… products they offered. It was madness, nothing but pure madness. The air was heavy with exotic, otherworldly smells, their fragrance so strong, I had to cover my nose not to gag. Where the hell was I? How had I gotten here? An overwhelming feeling of being lost, of not belonging, came over me. My heart was pounding in my chest, my breath came in hard, long bursts, and eventually I couldn’t go on anymore.

I pushed myself between two stalls, far away from the bustle of visitors, and closed my eyes. Don’t give into it. You’re okay. Just calm down, idiot, and find your way back.

Yet when I opened my eyes, I realized it wasn’t just the stalls and products that were strange. The people were, too. They were all acting normal, but the way they moved, the way their limbs worked, it was just… wrong. I watched as they took long strides, wider than any normal person could, watched as their bodies almost jerked forward.

As I focused on one of these people, I couldn’t help but think someone had taken them apart and put together the wrong way. They were human, yes, but certain details didn’t add up. Their arms seemed backwards, their facial features slightly warped, and their torsos-

No, don’t focus on it. Just find your way back. Fuck Hall 19, and get back to where you came from. After taking another breath, I approached one of the strange people all around me, a woman. I tried my best to ignore her weird, elongated body and her strange, warped face.

“Excuse me, I’m trying to get back to Hall 7, but I’m-“

My voice trailed off when I noticed her wide eyes and confused expression. A fearful noise escaped my mouth before she cringed back. As she did, I saw the way her legs moved. Too many joints, I thought, they had too many joints.

In a single motion, she turned away from me, twisting her torso around itself. Then, she ran, moving erratically, like a marionette pulled along by strings.

For a moment, I could only stand there and stare at the surreal spectacle with wide-open eyes. Then, I heard the same strange, half-whispered voice from nearby. Sweat broke out all over my body. It’s a coincidence. Nothing but a coincidence.

Yet when I turned around, I saw her. The same woman. This time, she wasn’t alone. Accompanying her was a pair of security guards. They both looked as strange as she did, but were much bigger, muscular, and I shivered when I noticed their shambling movements.

When they turned in my direction, I ran. No, I shouldn’t… couldn’t be found by them! And yet, when I looked over my shoulder, all three were staring after me. I dashed away, turned right, then left, past haphazardly placed stalls, not sure what I was running from. As I did, I pulled out the damned cap I’d pocketed, and threw away my jacket. It wasn’t much, but maybe, just maybe, it would keep her from recognizing me. Yet the layout of the hall was too disorienting. There was no place to hide, no way to cut them off, and I knew it was only a matter of time before they found me.

Then I noticed a tight-knit group nearby, making their way toward another hallway. In an instant, I ran in their direction, trying to mingle and hide between them. When I reached them, I saw how wrong they all were. Some were too short, others too tall. Some were shambling around while others were hunched over, dragging themselves forward. In-between, children were running here and there. They were moving on all fours, more like animals than human beings. When one of them focused on me, I saw glaring, feline eyes.

I pulled the cap deeper into my face before I pushed myself past the strange gathering and entered the hallway ahead. It differed from any I’d seen so far. It was small, constricting, more a tunnel or cave than anything else. The floor was dirty, the walls as if carved from stone, and the only light that reached me came from randomly placed, yellowed lamps.

As strange as the place was, I told myself to hurry on. Driven by an almost primal fear of the woman and her companions, I ran and eventually entered the hall at its end.

I’d barely taken a few steps inside when I noticed how outlandish this place was. It wasn’t an orderly market hall, but neither one of the disorienting, haphazardly thrown together ones. No, this place didn’t feel like it had been planned or constructed. It looked more like a shanty town, a place that had grown bigger and bigger over a long period.

The ground was as dirty as that of the hallway, covered in a variety of dark stains and sticky liquids. I saw caskets and boxes everywhere, empty cages, and even chunks of discarded rotten meat. The air was so heavy with the stink of raw meat, blood, and the disgusting sweet smell of rot, my eyes watered, and I gagged.

In an instant, I pushed myself past empty crates and behind a stack of boxes. What the hell was this place? My eyes darted around, trying to figure out where I’d ended up at. Eventually, I found a sign, the hall’s number, but it was all wrong. At first, I didn’t know what it said, but after a few seconds, I managed to decipher it. It was supposed to say Hall 37, but the numbers were backwards and distorted. They looked as if written by someone who’d never seen a real number before.

That’s when it clicked. It wasn’t just the sign, it was this entire place. This wasn’t a fair or a market hall. It was an imitation, one that was all wrong. The people, the things populating this place, they too, were nothing but cheap imitations of the human form. They wore mismatched pieces of clothing, ones either too small or too big, and shoes that didn’t fit. Their entire forms were warped, as if something horrible, and twisted was hidden below these outfits.

When I focused on one such person, sweat broke out all over my body. A nervous chuckle almost escaped my mouth, and I had to scream at myself to stay right where I was. What I’d thought to be a face wasn’t. It was a mask, a drawing of a happy face frozen in a perpetual half-smile, but it was too simple, too cheap, and reminded me of a child’s crayon drawing.

The strange person shuffled past my hiding place, but then stopped in front of a stall, or something that was supposed to be one. It was nothing but a crude construction made from wood and rubble, an amalgamation of trash. Hooks dangled from it here and there, each sprouting a chunk of raw, bloodied meat.

I watched as the thing approached the hooks. In a single swift motion, it tore down a dangling chunk and pushed it under its mask. For a few seconds, it chewed on the meat. I froze in terror, and could only listen to the sounds of flesh being ground apart, and finally, bones snapping. Then a bloated, black tongue slithered out from under the mask and licked pinkish goo from a stained, misshapen hand.

Oh god, please go away, please go away, I prayed while the creature stared at the remaining chunks of meat. I froze when it turned around, turned in my direction. Yet it didn’t notice me, and a moment later, it shuffled on.

By now, I saw that a similar creature was manning the stall, one wearing another of the crayon-masks. A strange, grunt-like sound escaped its mouth when it noticed the empty hook. I watched in confusion as it approached something covered by a piece of clothing. It was a cage, and for a moment, it moved the cloth aside to check what was inside.

When it did, I heard something: sobbing. The sobbing that was unmistakably that of a human being. Another grunt. The cloth went back down, and the creature vanished behind the stall, tearing aside a curtain I hadn’t noticed before. I only saw it for a moment, but I could’ve sworn I saw a table covered in blood and gore, and something that might once have been a human being.

I barely covered my mouth to drown out the scream that had wanted to escape it. Then, still huddled between crates and boxes, I realized what all those stains, those fluids on the floor around me, had to be. Blood. Human blood. Then those chunks of raw meat… Oh god.

This time, I could do nothing but throw up right where I was. Almost instantly, heads turned in my direction, heads sprouting the same smiling crayon-faces. In a frantic motion, I stumbled out from between crates and boxes.

I heard angry grunts. Saw misshapen hands reach out for me. But I made it. I ran before any of them could reach me. I rushed past the non-stalls the creatures had erected, and then back into the dark, tunnel-like hallway.

Run! Don’t look up back. Just run! I’d almost made it, almost.

When suddenly, a hand closed around my arm.

“Can I help you, sir?”

The same words, the same damned words. The same over-accentuated voice. As if to mock me, the strange woman, the thing in front of me, repeated them once more.

“Can I help you, sir?”

This time, I realized what was wrong with her voice. It wasn’t the half-whispering, and neither the over-accentuated English. It was an imitation. Another cheap imitation of a human voice, one that was all wrong.

“No, let me go! Let me fucking go!” I screamed at the thing.

I tore at the arm holding me in place, twisted my body, only to be pulled backward. At that moment, the woman’s hair was thrown aside, and I could finally make out her face. I cringed back. It wasn’t one of the crayon-like fakes. No, it looked almost real. Almost. It was a mask, but one made of skin, lifeless human skin. And then, something moved, something that was hidden below. It was twitching, trying to imitate human emotions, trying to warp the mask into a crude approximation of a grin.

I screamed in terror, tried once more to get away, but it was too late. The commotion had been noticed. From the entrance of the not-hall, hulking, shambling figures made their way towards us. By now, they weren’t even trying to keep their imitation alive. No, all that remained of it were the empty, half-smiling crayon-faces.

“Can I help you, sir?” the thing next to me repeated once more.

This time, the words came out in the same throaty giggle I’d heard before. The image of those cages returned to me, of the hooks, and the chunks of meat dangling from them. That would be me. This was what awaited me.

And then, my fear, my terror, was pushed aside by rage. No, it wouldn’t. I was not livestock. My free hand shot forward, and I tore apart the disgusting, dead skin covering the creature’s face. What I saw below was nothing but twisted flesh and scar tissue. And yet, it wasn’t all. There were holes, countless holes from which sprouted thousands of twitching, wriggling feelers it had used to imitate the movement of facial muscles, of expressions.

An inhuman shriek, one of shock and outrage, escaped its mouth, and its hand let go of me. As the thing covered its face, I dashed away.

I was out of the tunnel, then back in the disorganized market hall. I didn’t look back, didn’t want to see what was coming after me. No, I just ran.

My legs led me through hall after hall, each stranger as the one before. They were all twisted and wrong. One was built vertically, with market stalls stacked on top of one another continuously. The entire place was populated by skittering human-insect hybrids. Another was populated by stalls that seemed to have grown and were more alive than the beings moving between them. The air was heavy with the smell of sweat, and the floor was drowned in bodily fluids. Here and there, stalls reached out for me, or gurgled at me to get closer, to check out their products. More than once figures pointed and stared at me. Some cringed away, for I was as alien to them as they to me. Yet sometimes, they tried to restrain me, to hold me in place.

In sheer and utter panic, functioning purely by adrenaline, I ran on. My lungs were burning, blood rushed through my veins, and my legs were getting weaker. I had no goal, no direction. I just ran, trying desperately to flee from the surreal place my world had become.

Then I collided with someone stepping out in front of me. I stumbled, lost my balance, and crashed to the floor. Cursing, I fought myself back up and was about to rush on when a hand closed around my arm. I could already hear the same words, the same question, saw the same twisted face made of scar tissue, and wriggling feelers. I screamed, tried to tear myself away, and eventually got free.

Then reality replaced imagination, and I found myself face to face with a man who looked entirely human, a security guard. No, it’s a fake, another ploy, I told myself, and stumbled on. One step. Another. Then I crashed to the ground once more, panting.

My eyes darted around, searching for hulking, shambling figures, for twisted non-stalls, but everything was normal. All I saw were normal human beings and faces. Some showed concern, others confusion. A group of teenagers snickered behind their hands. I even saw a couple dragging their young son away the moment I stared at them. Yet they were all unmistakably human.

By now, the security guard had motioned for his colleagues to come over. As they stood in front of me, their mouths moved, yet my brain didn’t function. Once more, one of them got a hold of me, and pulled me to my feet. In an instant, I tore myself free again.

“The hell’s the matter with him?” one of them asked. Another mentioned the words drunk and drugs.

I finally opened my mouth and began rambling on about being followed, being hunted down before I closed it again.

“You saw what? Someone following you?”

My voice trailed off when I saw how they stared at me. It was clear they didn’t believe a single word I was saying.

“I think it’s best if you leave the premise, sir,” the one holding my arm eventually said, or rather, commanded.

With that, they escorted me from the complex. Still confused, but more than relieved, I made my way to our hotel.

When Frank arrived, he was pissed. While I sat on the bed, he laid into me. He ranted on about where I’d been, what I thought I was doing, and told me he’d inform our boss about me skipping out on the job. I only half-listened, still plagued by what I’d seen mere hours ago. Eventually, Frank got a hold of my collar and pulled me up.

“The fuck’s the matter with you, Danny!?”

At first, I only stared at his angry face, but then I opened my mouth.

“I don’t know. I think I got… lost? No, never mind.”

When Frank heard this, his eyes grew wide. He let go of me, and all the anger on his face evaporated.

“What happened? What did you see?”

Instead of answering, I shook my head.

“You wouldn’t believe me, anyway,” I muttered, quietly.

For a while longer, he held my gaze before he grumbled something and left it at that.

Later that evening, when the two of us went out to have some beers, I finally opened up to him. Frank listened without saying a word. Once I was done, I couldn’t help but laugh, and told him I must be overworked, or had a panic attack. Frank didn’t join in. Instead, his face grew dark, and I saw how tense he’d become.

“No, you did get lost.”

“What are you-?”

“Listen, Danny,” he started, his hands trembling. “These days, they make these places, these fairs, too damn big. There’s too many people. It’s only natural that some get lost or end up in… places they don’t belong. Happens all the time, but no one ever talks about it.”

“How do you…?”

Frank didn’t answer. Instead, he just sat there, staring at his beer, his shoulders slouched over, avoiding my eyes.

“Best thing you can do is not wander around, and stay at your stall,” he finally muttered, his voice no more than a whisper.

When I looked up again, I saw his expression, the anxious look that now filled it. For the next couple of minutes, I pressed him to tell me what he meant. I asked him if he’d gotten lost himself, but Frank never said a word about it.

---

It’s been years since it all happened. I’m not working with Frank anymore, and neither do I work at trade fairs. I just… couldn’t do it. Whenever I went near those giant, disorienting halls, and saw the countless people entering them, I was pushed into a state of almost-panic.

As the years went by, however, what had happened that day slowly became nothing but distant memories.

Just recently, I visited one of our local trade fairs with a friend of mine. As we walked from hall to hall, I couldn’t help but look around and scan my surroundings. I saw them. I saw the few people who seemed bewildered and confused, who seemed lost. It’s always people who are a tad bit different, a tad bit wrong. People who just don’t seem to belong.

I also noticed those who prey on them and heard their half-whispered voices. Imitations that are nearly good enough, but also entirely wrong: info desk workers, security guards, and even sales representatives.

And I can also see them lead those who are lost away, lead them into directions that shouldn’t go anywhere, or that lead them somewhere else entirely.

What do you do with a room full of old, musty suitcases?

This question came to my mind after I’d had a look through my late uncle’s estate. He’d recently passed away, and as his only living relative, his home fell to me by default. I knew I wouldn’t find much of value. His old farmstead was big, but in terrible condition. The furniture was a remnant of days past, and the many tools he’d amassed were rusty and hadn’t been touched in years.

I found the suitcases in a storage room at the back of the house. They filled an entire room. I blinked, shook my head, and looked again. What the hell? I knew some people owned multiple suitcases, or even multiple sets. This was different. Who the hell owned an entire room full of them? I solved the mystery quickly. In his later years, my uncle had worked as a market trader. He bought cheap products in bulk before selling it on the weekly markets in the area. These suitcases were one of his last purchases. I tried to figure out how many there were, but it seemed impossible. There had to be hundreds of the damned things.

I had a closer look at one of them, hoping they might be worth something. It was huge, massive even, but the quality was shoddy at best. The exterior was made of synthetic leather, thin and flimsy to the touch. Inside, the lining was covered in strange, pinkish satin. Even worse, the suitcases gave off an odd smell, an unpleasant combination of something sweet and musty.

Nonetheless, a few days later, I took one suitcase to a pawnshop in a nearby town. When I handed it to the owner, he frowned. He turned it around a few times before he opened it. He wrinkled his nose at the odd smell before his eyes fell on the strange inner lining. Confusion came over his face, quickly replaced by disdain, before he shook his head.

“Hope you didn’t pay much for it because it’s pretty much worthless. The materials are terrible, and the design is shoddy and old-fashioned.”

I sighed.

“Well, I expected as much, but don’t you think collectors or vintage enthusiasts might be interested in them?”

The man shrugged.

“You could give eBay a try, but I wouldn’t count on it.”

“Sure you don’t want to give it a try yourself?”

The man laughed and promptly shoved the suitcase back in my direction.

“Sorry, no dice.”

I thanked the man and made my way back to my uncle’s home. For a few days, I left the suitcases where they were; a forgotten memento of my late uncle’s life. Still, they lingered on my mind, and eventually I couldn’t pretend they didn’t exist anymore. I began sorting through them, picked a few that seemed in better condition, and took them downstairs.

I put them on the floor in my uncle’s old bedroom, which I’d already stripped bare. There on the hardwood floor, I tried my best to take fancy looking pictures of them. It wasn’t easy. They really were old and cheaply made, and no matter the lighting, they looked absolutely terrible.

What made the entire ordeal even worse were my two feline roommates, Keisha and James. The two of them didn’t mind the suitcases’ odd smell, no they loved it. The moment I turned away, one of them would crawl into whatever suitcase I currently focused on, and having the time of their life going to war with the inner lining. Keisha and James were both three-year-old tabbies. While Keisha was bright orange, James was grayish white. They were the sneakiest little troublemakers I’d ever come upon and made taking pictures a living hell.

And yet, I couldn’t imagine myself being out here without them. I loved the two of them to death, and they seemed to love those old suitcases to death.

Once I’d finished the monumental task of taking a handful of decent pictures, I created an auction on eBay.

Almost a week passed before a single offer arrived. A young man named Damien messaged me and said he was interested. He was a vintage collector and wrote he wanted to take a look at them. I was surprised, but it seemed some people really were interested in weird old stuff. That’s what I thought, at least. The moment Damien arrived, and I showed him the actual suitcases, his mood soured.

“Yeah, just looking at them tells me it’s some pretty cheap shit. Thanks for wasting my time.”

“You said you were interested, so…”

“That’s because of the pictures. You didn’t say the material was shit… and god, they smell! Those your grandpa’s or something?”

I sighed audibly. What an asshole. Instead of retorting, I tried a different route.

“Tell you what. You can have them for free. That way your trip wasn’t entirely-“

“And what do I do with them? Like I said, they’re shit, and they stink. I appreciate the gesture, but I’m good.”

With that, he made his way back outside, and without another word, drove off. Thus, I was left with hundreds of old, musty, and, most importantly of all, worthless suitcases.

When I returned to the room to get rid of them, Keisha and James were busy hiding and playing in them.

“How come you guys love these so much?”

All I got was a loud meow from Keisha before she vanished inside one of them. I watched the two of them for a little while and eventually decided to let them have the suitcases for now.

The next evening, after a long day of sorting through my uncle’s belongings, I busied myself on the internet. For a while I watched some YouTube videos before I ended up looking at cat toys and climbing trees. I blame James, who snuggled up on my lap as I sat on the living room couch.

I was sure they’d love a climbing tree, especially in this half-empty house. Those things cost money, however, and I’d told myself no unnecessary purchases until I’d sold the place. Then I got an idea. I’d always been a do-it-yourself guy, and decided to look up homemade climbing trees. Yet what I found were mostly instructions on building box fortresses. Given my situation, I couldn’t afford to waste any boxes.

“Sorry, little guy,” I said to James as I scratched his head.

When I got up to prepare myself something to eat, I saw Keisha in one of the half-open suitcases. She was snuggled up against the satin lining, blissfully asleep. Right at that moment, another one of my problems returned to my mind: the freaking suitcases. What the hell do I do with them? How’d I even get rid of them? I couldn’t very well just dump them outside for the garbage collectors.

Then it clicked. I couldn’t build a box fortress because I needed all my boxes. What I could do, however, was to build a suitcase fortress. Or, how I came to call it in my head, Suitcase Land.

While I ate dinner, my mind was already hard at work, making plans on how to build a fortress from suitcases. I had hundreds of the damned things, and they were all completely worthless. If I wanted to, I could just cut them open and tape them together. Hell, I could use a break from the perpetual mundanity of clearing out my uncle’s house.

I started on my work soon after. At first, I tried to use a carpet knife, but the suitcases proved sturdier than originally thought. After a few minutes, I gave up in frustration, went to my uncle’s workshop, and returned with a saw. It was old and rusty, but still made the job much easier. I cut away both ends of the suitcase. Then did the same to another one and taped them together, creating a sort of tunnel.

I don’t know what drove me on, but I was soon completely obsessed with this little project. I was at it for days. The hours passed by without me even noticing while I worked feverishly. What I’d imagined as nothing but a circular tunnel comprising a few suitcases soon grew in magnitude. The ground level changed into a convoluted mess, and afterwards I started on a second level. I added towers, bridges, and even overhangs, all made from suitcases. I went completely overboard, but I was isolated out here, frustrated, and bored to death. It allowed me to finally live out the creative urges I’d suppressed for the past weeks.

Once I was done, I’d used up more than half of the suitcases. When I saw what I’d created, I was in awe. Suitcase Land had grown from a small, ground-based maze to a room-filling fortress of tunnels, towers, and dead ends. James and Keisha were head-over-heels in love with my creation. The moment I was done, and revealed it to them, they vanished inside and weren’t seen for hours. They must’ve been busy exploring the various tunnels, sneaking up on each other, or sleeping in there.

I expected them to tire of it after a day or two, but they kept it up for the entire week. They only ever left when I put down their food. Occasionally, one of them would dart outside, after what I could only assume was another little territorial scuffle.

Out of curiosity, I sometimes stepped up to Suitcase Land, trying to listen in on what they were doing, or even calling out to them, to see if I’d get a reaction. Most of the time, nothing would happen, but sometimes, I could hear their muffled meows, distant, as if they were far, far away. At others, they’d come out of the place hours later, somewhat confused that I wasn’t waiting for them at the entrance.

I couldn’t help but wonder what they were up to in there. After some deliberation, I got an idea.

I hit up a cat-owning friend and convinced him to let me borrow not only a cat harness but also a GoPro he’d used to record his own feline’s adventures. Once the small package arrived, I couldn’t wait to get started. James was the first victim of my newfound curiosity. When I tried to fit the harness on him, he struggled and lamented in misery. Keisha, however, didn’t seem to mind, and after some early suspicions, accepted the harness. I fastened the GoPro around her neck and let her roam. For a few minutes, she tested her footing, but once she’d adjusted, she returned to Suitcase Land.

Once evening arrived, and I ate dinner, I saw Keisha again. In a single swift motion, I picked her up, put her on my lap, and got a hold of the GoPro. As I watched the recording, I fast-forwarded to the moment she entered Suitcase Land. I don’t know why, but I felt myself leaning forward, watching the footage with a strange sense of fascination. She crawled through the barely lit entrance tunnel, but the moment she’d made it past the first bend, the footage was too dark to make out anything. I continued playing it for a while longer and listened as Keisha moved around before I closed the recording in frustration.  Well, that was useless. Great idea, but as so often, I hadn’t been smart enough to think things through.

Next day, in the evening, I got another idea. I fastened a Maglite to the GoPro. I turned off all the lights in the living room and let Keisha walk around for a bit. To my surprise, the footage turned out well enough. So once again, I let her go on another one of her little adventures.

When I woke up the next morning, the first thing I saw was James’ little face. He’d crawled up on top of me, and was meowing right into my face.

“Well, aren’t you happy to see me, little guy?”

I petted him for a bit and stroked his back, but he didn’t pure like usual.

“What’s the matter, little buddy? You hungry?”

I got up and made my way to the feeding bowls, but James didn’t follow. Instead, he walked halfway through the living room, and stared at Suitcase Land.

“Hey, what’s the matter with you this morning?” I asked, reaching out for him.

The moment I touched him, his fur bristled, and he hissed before he realized it was me. He came up to me and huddled behind me, his eyes never moving from Suitcase Land.

“What’s wrong?” I asked again before I realized I hadn’t seen Keisha.

I called out her name, but got no reaction. Normally, she’d come running right away, especially since it was time for breakfast. I made my way to the entrance of Suitcase Land and called out again. Nothing.

When I turned to James, he hadn’t moved, and was still keeping a safe distance from the place. Shit, what if something happened to Keisha? Maybe she was hurt, or got stuck. For the first time, I regretted building this entire stupid thing, and especially making it this big.

I went back to the entrance and rattled the first few suitcases, hoping she’d come out. When that didn’t work, I began wandering the entire construction, leaning in close here and there, calling out again and again.

Finally, I heard it. At first it was only a quiet rustling before I heard a muffled meow coming from deep inside the suitcased monstrosity.

For a second, I considered tearing the entire thing down, but how long would it take me to find her? Even worse, what if she really was stuck, and I’d end up hurting her even more? Hell, maybe she was right past the first bend, just unable to move, and entangled in that weird inner lining.

“Dammit,” I cursed, and got myself a flashlight before I pushed my upper body into the first suitcase.

“Keisha!” I called out.

I pushed my arm as far as I could, but the first bend was too far away. Then, with no other choice left, I got down on my hands and knees and pushed myself inside. To my surprise, I could make it. Those things really were huge. As I did, the suitcases’ heavy, musty air assaulted me like a physical sensation making me cough. Jesus, how come the cats liked this place so much? I’d have laughed about how ridiculous this was if I wasn’t so worried about Keisha. I’d built this stupid thing for the cats, not for myself!

After a few seconds, I’d made it far enough to reach the first bend and to look around it. Using the flashlight, I illuminated the tunnel in front of me, but all I saw were more interconnected suitcases and a mass of inner lining. No hint of Keisha. I called out again, and soon the strange, muffled meow reached my ears once more.

“Where the hell is she?” I cursed to myself.

Pushing myself past the first bend proved almost impossible. My arms and legs got entangled in the inner lining, the satin clinging to my skin as if alive. I tore myself free, but as I did, I could hear the tape connecting the suitcases stretch and almost tore the entire thing apart. Then I finally made it through.

As I illuminated the tunnel ahead of me, I realized just how big this damned thing was. What the hell kind of monstrosity had I built here? How’d I ever thought a room-sized cat fortress, no labyrinth, was a good idea? I crawled on, flashlight in hand, but saw nothing.

The further I continued, the less difficult moving became. At first, I could barely fit through the tunnel, and had to crawl forward on my stomach. But by now, I managed to do it on my hands and knees. It was the weirdest thing. How was there so much room? Had I used bigger suitcases for this part? They’d all been the same size, though, hadn’t they?

An icy shower went down my spine, and my heart began pounding in my chest. For a second I stopped, closed my eyes and took a deep breath, inhaling more of the disgustingly musty suitcase air. Right at that moment, I heard Keisha again, but this time from my right. It was the same meow, sounding nearby, but also strangely distant.

As I illuminated the area ahead of me, I noticed an assortment of different tunnels. I counted six to my left and five to my right. I could only stare. In my fevered obsession, I’d ever-extended the place, added more and more parts to it, but… this many? Was there even enough room for all this? I must’ve, and yet… the strangest of feelings came over me, and I felt myself covered in cold sweat.

I moved on, and one by one, illuminated the tunnels and listened. Eventually, I pinpointed Keisha’s meow coming from the third tunnel on my right. I pushed myself inside, hoping to find Keisha in a dead-end. Instead, the tunnel continued on. It was bending in various ways before it began slopping upwards. By now, the strange feeling that had come over me turned to confusion, to fear.

This couldn’t be real. There was no way it could be this big, no way there could be a slope in here! Suddenly I felt hot, as if burning up, and I couldn’t breathe. Claustrophobia. This had to be some sort of hallucination. None of this was real! I had to be stuck in the first bend, unable to move and-

In an onset of panic, I tried to get up, tried to tear the damned tunnel apart and escape. Yet as much as I tried, however much I moved, the suitcases didn’t come apart. I desperately clawed at the inner lining, trying to find the connection, the tape, but it wasn’t there! My hands dug through more and more of it, tearing it apart. The more I did, though, the more I seemed to find, and the more it felt like… something different, something organic.

I was hyperventilating, close to freaking out. I knew I had to calm down, to breathe, but I just couldn’t. Finally, I threw myself against the side of the tunnel again and again, but it didn’t budge. I stopped my rampage when Keisha’s meow reached my ear once more.

“You stupid, freaking… Where the hell are you?!” I cursed out loud.

I was angry now, angry and afraid, and in a state of perpetual half-panic. The slope continued on for an impossibly long time, so long, I shouldn’t be in the same room anymore, not even in the house. Again and again, I brushed against the inner lining. By now, it didn’t feel like satin anymore. It felt wet and sticky, like skin. Here and there, I thought I saw it bulge, as if it was… breathing, and even felt a faint, warm breeze wafting through the tunnel.

Once again, I closed my eyes, took another deep breath, and concentrated on the beam of the flashlight in front of me. I didn’t know what was going on, where the hell I even was, but what else could I do but move forward?

Eventually, the tunnel opened to a wider area. When I saw it, a short, mad bout of laughter escaped my mouth. This couldn’t be real. I had to be imagining this. Nothing but a fever dream brought on by claustrophobia and the disgusting suitcase stink. What I saw weren’t cut apart suitcases anymore; it was a wide, open chamber.

Suddenly, the meowing pulled me back, and I focused on nothing but my worries about Keisha. It was coming from right in front of me, but I realized now that it wasn’t muffled, hadn’t been. It was distorted, all wrong, like a faulty recording. I tensed up as terror gripped me.

“K-Keisha…?” I asked in a shaken voice.

At that moment, the beam of the flashlight illuminated something in front of me. Right there, on the ground, I saw a tiny Maglite and next to it, the GoPro. I picked them up and pocketed them before I noticed the harness. How the hell had it come off? I saw it right away. It was torn apart at the back. How’d Keisha…? No, there’s no way she’d be able to tear it apart, was there? Once more, an icy shower went down my spine. If not Keisha, then… what?

As if to answer me, the sound of distant rustling reached me before I heard the soft inner lining ahead of me being cut open. My body froze and my fingers were clutching onto the flashlight as I watched the tunnel ahead of me shake. Something was freeing itself! Long, labored breathing reached me, and with it, I heard the distorted meowing again.

A quiet, high-pitched yelp escaped my mouth, and I scrambled backwards, away from the sounds ahead of me.

When something touched my back, I screamed. For a moment, I flailed around, trying to find whatever was attacking me. Then I heard a well-known meow, this time undistorted, followed by a brief hiss. When I turned around, I saw Keisha behind me, saw her tearing at my pant leg, as if to tell me to follow her. She looked terrified. Her little cat eyes were wide open, and I could see she was limping.

I instantly scooped her up and cradled her in my arms. For a second, she let me before she freed herself and snuck past me.

“No, Keisha, wait,” I called out, but my voice trailed off.

When I looked behind me, the slop was gone, and instead, I was looking at the very first bend right behind me. A short, shrill laugh escaped my mouth. Of course, it hadn’t been real. I’d gotten stuck here, and Keisha found me. I crawled backward, pushed myself through the bend and found Keisha sitting by the exit, waiting for me. Half a minute later, I’d made it outside.

Still shaking and sweaty, I stared at the construction in front of me. Even the longest part of the damned thing was barely longer than a few meters. I saw no hint of any slopes, no hint of a central chamber, and no hint of the multitude of tunnels.

Remembering Keisha, I turned around and gently got a hold of her. She was exhausted and clearly hurt. I took her to the vet instantly.

When I arrived, the vet told me she was agitated, and asked me what had happened to her. I was about to tell her about Suitcase Land, but then opted for a different story.

“I let her out yesterday afternoon, but she only returned this morning. She was limping. Maybe she got into a fight with a stray?”

The vet eyed me for a moment.

“She has a bruised leg, but it’s nothing serious. What I’m more concerned about is her back. That wound is not from another cat. It looks like a cut, maybe from a bird, but I’ve seen nothing like it.”

After a more thorough analysis, it turned out that the back wound wasn’t as serious as initially thought. It was nothing but a scratch, and had barely broken skin. In an instant, I remembered the torn harness, but… hadn’t it all been in my mind? Even though what the hell had happened to her?

For now, though, I was happy to hear she was all right, and the worst was the agitation. The vet advised me to keep her in the house for at least a week, and to make sure she wouldn’t lick the wound excessively.

Once I’d made it back home, the first thing I did was to dismantle Suitcase Land. It didn’t take long since I tore it apart by force. I was apprehensive the entire time, my eyes darting around here and there, listening for any sounds, ready for something to attack me. Nothing happened, and after only an hour, Suitcase Land was nothing but an enormous stack of half-torn-apart suitcases.

Before long, I reasoned, Keisha must’ve injured herself on a zipper. The harness had probably gotten stuck somewhere, and she’d scratched or bitten through it herself after all. And my experience? Nothing but a hallucination caused by an onset of claustrophobia I didn’t know I had, and the damned smell of the suitcases.

With that, the entire story of Suitcase Land was over. Or it would’ve been if I wouldn’t have seen the GoPro on my living room table. It was still working, and when I checked the recording, it was a single, giant video file. I hesitated, but then I finally pressed play. I didn’t know what I’d see, only that I had to see it.

This video changed everything.

I watched as Keisha made her way into Suitcase Land like so many times before. Soon enough, though, things became strange. I watched with wider and wider eyes as she ran through and explored ever-expending and ever-widening tunnels. Keisha traveled far, far further than should’ve been possible; up and down slopes, crawling through holes, and exploring wide, arching chambers. It was an absolute impossibility, and yet, it was right here, right in front of me on the screen.

And then Keisha froze, and I heard the same rustling and tearing sounds I’d heard. It grew closer and closer. The entirety of Suitcase Land was shaking, and the camera turned dark. A second later, I heard Keisha yowl and hiss furiously followed by a snap. The harness, I realized. That’s when the harness was torn off.

After that, the video comprised nothing but darkness, but I could still hear strained breathing nearby. Then, to my utter horror, a figure moved in the darkness and pushed itself closer and closer toward the camera.

A moment later, I heard the distorted imitation of Keisha’s meow again, and saw a single, alien eye staring at me.