A Needle in a Hay Stack

When I was a boy, my two best friends, Robby and Melanie, loved nothing more than to sneak into Old Walterโ€™s barn.

Old Walter had once been a farmer, the biggest one in our small town, but had long since retired. By now, all that remained of his former glory was his old farmhouse and the enormous barn next to it.

This barn was our prime destination during the scorching afternoons of a certain summer break years ago.

Old Walter didnโ€™t like the idea of kids wreaking havoc in his barn and kept it locked all day, every day. We were crafty though, and the barn was as withered a thing as the old man himself. Small nooks and crannies were everywhere, allowing us to sneak in as we saw fit.

We loved to search through all the old tools and belongings inside, hoping to find hidden treasures.

What we loved the most, however, was the old haystack at the barnโ€™s back. We build little nests and huts, or dug into its outer layer.

Our favorite thing by far, however, was The Jump. The Jump was as simple as it could be. Youโ€™d climb up on one of the barnโ€™s many beams, and from there youโ€™d plunge yourself down into the giant stack below.

It was exhilarating, and to this day, I still remember us all jumping down there, screaming and laughing as if mad.

Old Walter, however, wouldnโ€™t have any of it.

If he caught us inside his barn, heโ€™d curse at as and chase us out. Should he find us jumping into the haystack though, heโ€™d be furious, his angry tirade reminiscent of that of a sailorโ€™s.

Thinking back, I donโ€™t remember any of the insults he hurled at us. Yet there was one thing he always spat at us in his rage. His rheumy eyes would be wide, saliva would be flying from his mouth, and his fake teeth would chatter in his mouth.

โ€œOne day, youโ€™ll get lost in there!โ€

I remember how weโ€™d laugh at that as we ran from him. Howโ€™d you get lost in a stack of hay? The old man was full of bullocks, as we called it. All he was trying to do was to keep us from having fun!

Now, Old Walter might have been old, but he was far from stupid. He knew what we were up to, and even if he didnโ€™t catch us, he tried his best to keep us out of his barn. Yet for every nook he closed off, and every cranny he fixed, we found a dozen more. Even better, there were a lot of loose, old boards we could simply pull aside to enter.

One day, Robby and I were waiting at the local soccer field. Melanie was late, and we were getting annoyed.

When she arrived, a little boy, a few years younger than us, followed her.

โ€œThis is Terrance,โ€ she started. โ€œHeโ€™s here with his parents for the summer and wants to play with us.โ€

โ€œCity folk,โ€ I mumbled under my breath, repeating my fatherโ€™s words.

People from the city were common in our small town. Countless people from nearby cities had built small summer cabins and vacation homes near our small town to spend the warm months of summer here.

Some locals werenโ€™t too fond of these โ€˜rich city folks,โ€™ my father being one of them. As is so common with kids, I soaked up his hatred and superstition, not understanding a thing. All I knew was that city folk were to be scorned.

Robby, of course, was the same and seemed even less happy about Melanieโ€™s little companion.

Still, it was Melanie whoโ€™d brought him along, and we were at this delicate age when we started to see her with different eyes. So, of course, we didnโ€™t mouth up, and grudgingly let the little boy come along.

โ€œHey Andy, how about we show him the barn?โ€ Melanie suddenly asked. โ€œYou wanna go, right, Terrance?โ€

The little boy nodded eagerly, but I couldnโ€™t help but be annoyed. The barn was our place, our secret hideout.

โ€œItโ€™s not for city folk,โ€ I mumbled, looking over at Robby for support.

โ€œDonโ€™t be such a baby, Andy!โ€ Melanie chided me.

Before long, both Robby and I agreed with her, and we set out.

A good ten minutes later, we arrived at Old Walterโ€™s farm. For a while, we stayed on the lookout until we saw the old man sitting on a bench in his garden. The coast was clear, and we instantly rushed to our destination.

I quickly found a loose plank and pushed it aside. Melanie was first to enter, followed by Robby.

Terrance, however, didnโ€™t move, and I turned around, glaring at him.

โ€œIsnโ€™t that breaking in? My parents always tell me Iโ€™m not-โ€œ

โ€œWell, your stupid parents arenโ€™t here, are they? But if you donโ€™t wanna come, thatโ€™s fine. Weโ€™ll just go on our own.โ€

He shuffled around for a moment before he hurried past me and pushed himself inside.

โ€œOh wow,โ€ I heard him gasp next to Melanie. โ€œItโ€™s pretty cool, isnโ€™t it?โ€ she whispered to him.

The barn was huge from the outside, but its inside always seemed so much bigger. It wasnโ€™t, of course, but it seemed that way because of all the things the old man had stored in here.

As we snuck around, Melanie laid open the barnโ€™s many secrets and mysteries to our young visitor.

I didnโ€™t like it one bit. When Melanie showed him the little hideout weโ€™d built from hay bales at the right side of the barn, Iโ€™d had it.

โ€œHow about we do the jump?โ€ I asked in a loud, excited voice.

โ€œWhatโ€™s the jump?โ€ Terranceโ€™s high-pitched voice piped up from inside the hideout before the little boy hurried over to me.

โ€œThe Jump,โ€ I started, in the most official voice a twelve-year-old can muster, โ€œis a jump into the hay stack over there.โ€

As I said it, my finger wandered to the beam we usually jumped from, but then continued on to a different one, the highest one near the roof of the barn.

โ€œFrom the highest beam in the barn,โ€ I added with a smirk on my face.

Robby answered me with a smirk of his own.

โ€œYeah, a jump from the very highest one into the hay below!โ€

โ€œHey, thatโ€™s not-โ€œ Melanie started, but I cut her off right away, relishing my new position as leader.

โ€œAnyone whoโ€™s part of our group has done it! Itโ€™s our official initiation! You wanna be part of our group? You have to do the jump. Otherwise, you canโ€™t play with us anymore.โ€

โ€œStop being a dick, Andy,โ€ Melanie called out, but I ignored her.

Instead, my eyes wandered to the little boy. He wasnโ€™t listening anymore, but was looking at the hay stack and then further up. Higher and higher his eyes went before they came to rest on the highest beam in the barn. I could see how his little eyes grew wide, could see him gulp, but then he nodded.

Getting up there was easy enough. We found one of Old Walterโ€™s ladders, propped it up against the beam and ascended.

It took no longer than five minutes before all four of us had made it to the top.

โ€œYou donโ€™t have to,โ€ Melanie whispered at Terrance.

When I heard this, I grinned.

โ€œYeah, you can just go back home to your parents and stay at your stupid cabin.โ€

Yet Terrance didnโ€™t react. Instead, he was staring down at the giant stack of hay below.

โ€œWell, whatโ€™s the matter, little baby? Not gonna jump?โ€ I called out with the biggest grin on my face.

I watched as he shuffled around awkwardly. The fear was visible on his young face.

โ€œI donโ€™t wanna anymore,โ€ he said in a low voice. โ€œItโ€™s scary.โ€

โ€œOh my god, whatโ€™s the big deal?โ€ Robby started. โ€œThereโ€™s like a billion tons of hay down there! Weโ€™ve jumped into it so many times, and nothing ever happened!โ€

Yet Terrance was inching back from the edge of the beam. All the color had vanished from his face, his lips were quivering, and he seemed close to a state of panic.

โ€œThereโ€™s something down there, and-โ€œ

He didnโ€™t get to finish his sentence, because Robby had moved forward and given him a push, annoyed at the boyโ€™s lack of courage.

For a moment, Terrance was balancing at the edge, grabbing at the air in front of him before he fell backwards.

A high-pitched shriek cut through the air, filling the entire barn. For a moment, I saw his wide eyes and terrified face before the hay swallowed him up. His scream cut off the moment he vanished, and silence descended upon the barn.

Robby and I were laughing our asses off while Melanie called us stupid.

Eventually, our laughter ebbed away, and we kept staring at the hay below.

โ€œHey, whereโ€™d you go, city boy? You can come out now!โ€

โ€œTerrance, you okay?โ€ Melanie called out as well.

โ€œGood work, pipsqueak,โ€ Robbie added, still grinning.

Yet no one answered our calls, and the giant stack of hay remained still.

Melanie hurried down the ladder, looking around to find where heโ€™d landed. All the while, Robby and I continued to call out to him from the top, telling him it had all been a joke. By now, we were getting worried.

Our worries turned to fear when the heavy barn doors burst open and Old Walter stormed inside.

โ€œNow what did I tell you, you damn troublemakers? Youโ€™re not supposed to be in here! I dare you. If you donโ€™t leave this instant, Iโ€™ll give you the beating of a lifetime!โ€

With that, he picked up a wooden stick and waved it around while his angry, rheumy eyes focused on each one of us.

Robby hurried down the ladder, making his way to where weโ€™d entered from.

I was about to follow him, but then stopped, my eyes wandering to Melanie, who still hadnโ€™t moved.

โ€œHeโ€™s not coming out,โ€ she mumbled, her eyes meeting mine.

โ€œWho is?โ€ the old man demanded, as his heavy steps led him towards us.

โ€œThe little boy,โ€ she started.

โ€œTerrance, one of the city kids. He jumped down into the hay, but heโ€™s not coming out,โ€ I added.

โ€œOh, you dumb little… How many times did I tell you it was dangerous? How many times? Did you see anything sticking out from the top? Like a piece of wood or something? Anything he might have landed on?โ€

โ€œNo, Mister Walter, nothing. It was all normal, just like yesterday, and nothing happened to us then!โ€

At the words yesterday, he squinted his eyes at me, but let it slide a moment later.

โ€œNo, but he said he saw something down there. I donโ€™t know…โ€ Robby, whoโ€™d snuck back in, added.

The old man jerked toward him, and a tirade of curses escaped his mouth before he rushed towards the stack of hay, beginning to dig through it feverishly.

I donโ€™t remember many of his words, of his mad, angry ramblings, cursing at us, the barn, and the hay. Yet I remember one thing he said as he tore it aside, throwing heaps of it left and right.

โ€œ… just like trying to find a goddamn needle…โ€

It wasnโ€™t long before the old man realized he couldnโ€™t do this alone. At first, he called over his wife to help before he told us to head over to the neighbors to explain the situation.

We did as we were told, especially under the threat of being responsible for what had happened.

Before long, more than a dozen people had gathered, us included, all taking away the hay and putting it outside.

The work continued for hours, and the sun had already started setting when weโ€™d cleared it, and the back of the barn was finally empty.

Yet there was nothing there.

There was no hint of the little boy named Terrance. We saw no wood or rubble below the hay he might have hit, no trap door he might have fallen through.

No, there was only the barren, empty floor of the barn.

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Choose Your Own Adventure

It was one of those days. The ones when you feel a little lost, and youโ€™re looking for something. You just donโ€™t know what it is. Itโ€™s just a nagging little voice in the back of your head.

As I walked down the street, my eyes wandered here and there. Store windows, people, traffic. Searching. I sighed as I watched it all. The mundane bustle of urban life. Then, out of the corner of my eyes, I saw it. A book store nestled between two enormous office buildings. I stopped, staring at it. It was a small, cozy-looking place, surrounded by a laid back atmosphere.

A few moments later, I stepped inside. I wasnโ€™t a big reader, and neither was I a collector. I just liked to browse, and every once in a while, I bought something on a whim. One of my shelves was filled with two dozen books Iโ€™d found that way. Not to read them, but because of their titles, the covers, or the feeling they gave me. It was always odd books. Thatโ€™s what I liked the most, odd little things you add to your home to give it a little more character.

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

โ€œLooking for anything specific, young man?โ€

โ€œNo, just browsing,โ€ I said with a smile, and continued past him.

The store was purest chaos. Ramshackle bookshelves lined the walls, their wood straining under an unevenly placed load. I saw novels, picture books, childrenโ€™s books and nonfiction, all thrown haphazardly with no rhyme or reason. Here and there books littered the floor, and in certain corners, I found dusty, towering stacks that seemed to shake with my every step. I smiled. The place sure had its charm.

For half an hour I wandered the store. It was much bigger than Iโ€™d thought. It comprised multiple backrooms, each one more chaotic than the last. I leafed through multiple books before something caught my eye. At the bottom of another stack, half-hidden behind an old reading chair, I saw a giant tome. It was bound in thick leather, but there was no indication of what it was. No words lined the spine. One by one, I removed the books on top, but to my surprise, the cover was similarly empty.

When I opened it, I found it even thicker than Iโ€™d originally thought. As I went to the end of the book, I noticed the page count far exceeded two-thousand. What can I say? This strange book intrigued me.

As I looked through it, I noticed each page comprised multiple, short bodies of text, neatly divided, each with a title of its own. At first, I thought it was a book of anecdotes, or maybe quotes by famous people, but when I read one of the section titles, I looked up.

You Step Into the Dark Forest, one of them said.

You Ascend the Stairs, the one below read.

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

You Roast the Remains

Even more confused, I read the text below.

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

Eat the meat. Go to page 219.

Throw it into the fire. Go to page 811.

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

It took me a while to realize what I was holding. It had to be one of those Choose Your Own Adventure books. I smiled a little, but couldnโ€™t help but wonder at the immense size of this monstrosity. A Chose Your Own Adventure book of this size? There was no way. Maybe it came with illustrations, maps and a list of items and enemies. Hell, maybe it was a collection of different adventures. Yet as I went through it, I found nothing but text. No maps, no illustrations, and no divisions. When I checked the first page, it was the same as all the others. No table of contents, no title, nothing.

What an odd book, I thought. Odd, but interesting. I picked it up, and holding my price, I went back to the front.

When I approached the old man, he looked up again. For a moment, something washed over his face, but a smile instantly replaced it. As I put the heavy book down, the counter creaked audibly under its weight.

โ€œWell, youโ€™ve picked quite the book, young man.โ€

โ€œIt looked interesting.โ€

โ€œSure does, doesnโ€™t it?โ€

โ€œItโ€™s one of those old Choose Your Own Adventure Books, right?โ€

The old man nodded.

โ€œSo, whyโ€™s it so big?โ€

โ€œBecause itโ€™s hard.โ€

โ€œHah, very funny.โ€

I laughed, but the old man didnโ€™t join in.

โ€œYou ever gave it a try?โ€

โ€œSure did.โ€

โ€œWhatโ€™s the deal with it, then?โ€

The old man shrugged.

โ€œThereโ€™s a reward at the end.โ€

โ€œYou finished it?โ€

Another shrug. I opened my mouth, intent on pressing him, but then let it slide. No reason to pester him any longer than necessary.

โ€œHow much is it?โ€

The old man thought about it for a moment.

โ€œTell you what, how about five bucks? Not like anyone else is going to buy it any time soon.โ€

A little surprised about the low price, I handed him the money before I tried to shove the giant book into my backpack. It almost didnโ€™t fit. Only after some rummaging did I finally succeed. With that, I said goodbye and went on my way.

Once I was home, I opened the strange book right away. For a little while, I leafed through its pages before I went back to the first and started to read what I assumed to be the first chapter. I had to start right here, didnโ€™t I? To my surprise, I wasnโ€™t reading the beginning of the adventure, but a completely random part of it.

You Hold the Desert Orb High Into the Air

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

Pick them up. Go to page 1522.

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

Throw them into the sky. Go to page 382.

Great, I can play with marbles. This wasnโ€™t too exciting. Instead of picking any of the three choices, I went on to the next chapter. The second one was even duller, talking about a flower store in a small village. Yet the third one stood out to me.

You Wait in the Clearing

While youโ€™re waiting, the Thousand-Eyed Dragon suddenly descends upon you, staring at you with its thousand eyes and basking you in their iridescent glow. The dragon closes in on you quickly. What do you want to do?

Stay and await the dragon. Go to page 522.

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

Run. Go to page 1899.

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

You Run from the Thousand-Eyed Dragon

You hurry away from the approaching beast. Your steps lead you through the dark forest, past gnarled trees and thick underbrush. Suddenly you fall, tripped by a root, and crash onto the forest floor. By sheer coincidence, your hand closed around a strange, glowing object. What do you want to do?

Pick it up. Got to page 455.

Destroy it. Go to page 390.

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

I picked up the object and had to return to the earlier parts of the book. The object turned out to be the so-called Ruby Orb. The glow of the object basked me in red light, and I could faintly make out something inside. I was asked once more what I wanted to do. The first two choices were to either stare into it, or to pocket it. The third choice made me look up.

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

For a moment I hesitated, before I shrugged, and went with it. Sure, I didnโ€™t know what this Amulet of Roe was or even if I had to find it first, but it sounded much more interesting than the other two choices. I searched for the corresponding page, only to read that I burst into flames and disintegrated. Well, great, I just died.

I went back and picked the choice to stare into it instead, only to read that I went stark raving mad. Great, another death, I thought.

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

I spent the next half hour continuing through the forest, only for my character to die half a dozen times because of cryptic references I had no clue about. At this point, I decided to take a break.

My stomach rumbled, and I realized I hadnโ€™t even had dinner yet. I prepared myself a simple meal, comprising a few sandwiches, and put on a movie on Netflix. Sitting in front of the TV, I couldnโ€™t help but stare back at the strange book. Its open pages were almost bidding me to come back, calling out to me to continue.

The moment I was done eating, I held it in my hands again. There was a certain kick to it, I had to admit. It was interesting trying to figure out your way. Instead of continuing where Iโ€™d left off, however, I went back to the confrontation with the dragon and picked choice number two to pray to the Gods of the Earth. To my surprise, the gods answered, and the dragon flew off. I was left to continue my adventure unobstructed. This time, I didnโ€™t enter the forest, but followed a small path that led me past it.

This, however, didnโ€™t change a damn thing. Half my choices ended in painful death, the other half made no sense or referred to objects I hadnโ€™t heard about yet. There was talk about the Obsidian Sword, a treasure map, a Crown of Ice, and many other similar objects. Whatever I tried, I died as many times as in the forest. Hell, at one point, I was even transformed into a strange human-snake hybrid. I humored it for a bit, but was murdered by a group of knights.

When I followed another choice, my character became infused with elemental fire, only to evaporate when I tried crossing a river. Goddammit, I cursed to myself. This book was way too freaking hard.

Eventually, I got fed up with the damned dragon, the forest, and everything related to it. Instead, I went to a random page, and started reading from there. Who knows, maybe Iโ€™d have more luck there. What I read made me frown. Before, my character had been an adventurer in a fantasy setting, running through forests, hiding from dragons and traveling the land. Why was I suddenly in a… spaceship?

Either way, I picked one of the three choices only for my spaceship to explode. I went back, picked another one and followed this outlandish path for a while. It was as hard as the fantasy one. Once again, every other choice meant certain death, while the rest was filled to the brim with odd references. At one point, I was even assimilated by a hive mind. Even stranger, my character didnโ€™t outright die, but I could continue on. I read a few more parts before I realized Iโ€™d spent almost two hours in front of the damned book.

Still, as confusing and terribly hard as it was, it was also damned interesting. There was something about it. With all the objects, and all the references, you could tell there were hints everywhere. You just needed to understand what they meant to progress further. I checked my phone and read a post on Reddit before I gave the book another shot.

This time, I opened it in the middle and absent-mindedly leafed through the pages for a while. When I started to read, I found myself at the home of a magus who offered me five different potions. I could only drink one, and below was a choice for all of them. I tried one and frowned when my character died again, this time from being poisoned. When I read another one, I was transformed into a creature of terrible power, the Thousand-Eyed Dragon. Iโ€™d read that before, hadnโ€™t I? That was the dragon that had attacked me in the forest. Why did I suddenly turn into it? God, this was all way too confusing.

I was about to pick yet another potion when I noticed how late it was. Shit, I needed to catch some sleep.

When I got home from work the next day, I prepared myself some coffee, and before I knew it, I sat in front of the book again. I thought back to what Iโ€™d read before and gave the damned forest another try. It was probably best to start at a point I already knew about. This time, I had a plan. Iโ€™d write down the page number of each chapter I went through. That way, I reasoned, Iโ€™d have a simple way to backtrack my steps should I get stuck.

It wasnโ€™t long before I realized this wouldnโ€™t be enough. If I wanted to have any chance of figuring this confusing book out, Iโ€™d have to map out my way entirely. And so I wrote down not only the page numbers of the small chapters I went through but also the choices for each one of them, and the page they sent me to. Then Iโ€™d go through all of them until I found a way to continue.

I quickly stumbled upon another problem. There wasnโ€™t just a single way forward, not even two or three. While many choices ended in death, almost as many sent me off in different directions. For the next days, I mapped out the forest, the areas around it, and eventually the small fantasy world I was supposed to be in.

I canโ€™t say why I put so much effort into it, but once Iโ€™d started, and the first few pages were covered in notes, there was this strange voice in my head urging me to continue. After all, I had done so much already, hadnโ€™t I? I couldnโ€™t stop now. Even more so, the book fascinated me, had me spellbound. For the longest time, Iโ€™d just stumbled through life one day at a time with no goal or ambition. This book was the first interesting thing Iโ€™d come upon in years and I was set on solving it.

As I continued mapping out my way, I soon realized that this adventure was even more complicated than Iโ€™d thought. Iโ€™d just mapped out another part of the fantasy world when I became aware that the chapters and choices I was following seemed oddly familiar. After I consulted my notes, I learned that I was back at a certain point Iโ€™d been at before. Without knowing it, Iโ€™d followed a freaking loop in the story.

After Iโ€™d left a small town near the forest, Iโ€™d continued on and made my way to a waterfall and a mystical cave hidden behind it, only to be sent right back to the same town. I laughed a little. The damned book had got me. This entire freaking waterfall and cave thing was only here to throw me off. It was a loop that would continue on endlessly. I put down a little footnote not to go to the waterfall again and moved on.

Soon enough, I realized the waterfall wasnโ€™t the only such loop. There were more of them, and some even led into one another, throwing you off even further. Without my notes, I might have every well stumbled from one loop into another without ever making sense of it.

Eventually, I reached a singular path Iโ€™d not been on before. After a few more choices, and a few more deaths, I was back at the home of the magus. This time, I tested out all five of his potions. I knew the first one would kill me instantly, and the second one would transform me into the dragon. Of the remaining three, one didnโ€™t do a damn thing, and I left the magusโ€™ home behind. Another killed me yet again. The last one, however, proved far more interesting. After Iโ€™d downed it, I was asked if I wanted to ascend to another realm.

This time, I was greeted with a plethora of choices. Go to the Land of the Land of the Never-Ending Sea, Return to the Cradle of Mankind, Take to the Stars, and more than a dozen others. On a whim, I picked Take to the Stars. When I went to the corresponding chapter, I suddenly found myself aboard a spaceship. I looked up. This was the freaking spaceship Iโ€™d read about before! As Iโ€™d noticed before, this one was as strange and as hard as the fantasy world Iโ€™d been in.

Using my newfound way of recording my path, however, I slowly progressed through it. It was by sheer accident that I stumbled upon a teleporter after my ship crash-landed on a planet. The teleporter turned out to be similar to the magusโ€™ potion. Each choice below represented a different button. As I went through the choices, I was disintegrated multiple times before I was teleported to a place between the realms.

Similar to the ascension chapter in the fantasy world, I was asked where I wanted to go. What picked my interest was the first choice, The Land of Magic and Dragons. To my surprise, I ended up standing in front of a burned down farm, the bodies of my dead parents lying next to me and about to set out on a grand adventure.

As Iโ€™d expected, the choice labeled โ€˜Take to the Starsโ€™ sent me right back to my spaceship. When I chose the Cradle of Mankind, I awoke in a cave, now wearing nothing but a pelt. I read two more brief chapters and learned that this was some kind of Stone Age setting. I went back, tried the rest and soon realized that each one of them sent me to an entirely unique setting, or adventure path, as I came to call them. With the three Iโ€™d already tried, there were eleven in total.

1. The Land of Magic and Dragons – Fantasy

2. Take to the Stars – Space

3. The Cradle of Mankind – Stone Age

4. The Land of the Never-Ending Sea – Ocean and Pirates

5. The Ruins of Nevrath – Desert Ruins

6. The Peaks of the Sky – Mountains

7. The Grand City – City-State

8. Crossing the Rubicon – Ancient Rome

9. The Jungles of Ulthum – Jungle Tribes

10. Calmheim – Small Village

11. Leshโ€™turath – Underwater Civilization

I just stared at my notes. This was crazy. It had taken me almost a week to map out the fantasy path, and another two to stumble upon this teleporter. Youโ€™re telling me there were eleven in total?

Absentmindedly, I rubbed my temples to push away the phantom pain I felt when I thought about working my way through all of them. This would be way too much work. That evening, I left the book alone and went to bed early. I was way too frustrated to continue this.

The next day, though, right after work, frustration was replaced by motivation. It was as if a surge of dedication pulsed through me. I knew I could do this. All it would take was time, and I had more than enough of that. After some deliberation, I tried my luck with The Cradle of Mankind next. I read chapter after chapter, got eaten by a sabre-toothed tiger, killed by a tribesman, found a magic stick, got empowered by a meteoroid, and finally found a strange glowing object. I went with the choice to pick it up and look at it, only to frown.

You stare at the strange glowing object and within moments, you recognize it as the Ruby Orb, a ghastly artifact from another realm. Only those who destroy it will learn its secret. In fear, you leave it behind and wander on.

The Ruby Orb? Hadnโ€™t I read about it in the fantasy path? I went through my stack of notes frantically. There it was, in the damned forest. I noted down the place I was at and went back to page 1899. This time I picked the choice to destroy it and went to page 390. The chapter this time was short, and there was only one choice at the bottom.

You throw the orb to the ground. With a thunderous roar, it bursts and explodes into fourteen pieces. You stare at them in utter indifference before you decide to leave them behind.

Continue on your way. Go to page 111.

I rechecked my notes. This was the same freaking page I was sent to if I didnโ€™t even pick it up. What the hell was this bullshit? Why was there a meaningless chapter like this? No, wait, maybe it wasnโ€™t meaningless. Thereโ€™d been something about a secret. Yet all the chapter said was that the damned thing burst into pieces. Frustrated, I was about to return to the Stone Age path. Then I stopped. It hadnโ€™t said that the orb burst into pieces. It had said that it burst into exactly fourteen.

Oh, youโ€™ve got to be freaking kidding me, I cursed, and went to page 14. The first two chapters were completely unrelated, but the third one stood out.

The Secret of the Ruby Orb, I read.

What I found below, however, made no sense at all.

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

I read it once more, than a third time, before I slumped down, utterly confused. Why the hell was the book bringing up Milton and Galileo? This made no freaking sense! Between the births… what was that even supposed to mean? I spent the rest of the evening trying to make sense of it. Did Milton and Galileo come up as characters at some point? But wasnโ€™t the book set in fictional realms? At least, it seemed that way. Could it be that one of the more mundane sounding paths included them? If so, what was this about births?

God, none of this made any sense. Thatโ€™s what I thought until an idea popped into my head the next day while I was at work. What if it wasnโ€™t referring to the book, but to their actual births? I leaned back in my office chair, took out my phone, and googled them.

John Milton was born on December 9th, 1608, while Galileo Galilei was born on August 25th, 1609. Great, and how the hell was that going to help me? Then I thought about it. The freaking years, 1608 and 1609. The damned book had far over two-thousand pages. Was this damned riddle referring to certain page numbers? But how could there be anything between two consecutive page numbers? For the rest of the day, I entertained other, different ideas, different scenarios, like their location of birth, but they felt even less plausible.

The moment I got home, I threw aside my backpack and hurried to the book. I tore through the pages until I reached page 1608. I scanned the text, read through it, and even checked the margins, but there was nothing special about it. So it had to be the next one, page 1609. Yet when I turned it, I was suddenly on page 682. What the hell? I turned to the page after it, which was page 1609. At first, I considered it a misprint, but the text had mentioned a hidden secret between them. Was this a… secret page, then?

I started to read it. The page was filled with four chapters, but they differed from anything Iโ€™d read in the book so far. They seemed to be completely unrelated to the adventure. It was descriptions of the various stars in the night sky. Yet there was one line that stood out to me.

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

I sank back on the couch. Was this supposed to be another hint? Only a few stars shine brightly, I reasoned. There had to be something about stars, about some that shined brightly! Yet before I went on my search for stars, I had something else on my mind, something beyond the meaning of that line. This very secret page here. Did it mean that even some pages in the book were mixed-up?

This page here was page 628. Which would mean it was missing where it was supposed to be, right? Instantly, I leafed through the pages, but I found it right there. Page 628, containing normal chapters all related to the adventure, preceded by page 681, and succeeded by page 683. So this secret page Iโ€™d found was a double hidden somewhere within the book. At that moment, I wondered if there were more of them.

I slowly went through the next one hundred pages of the book. When I was done, Iโ€™d found three more of these secret pages. In sheer and utter frustration at this new, mysterious discovery, I put the book down and cursed to myself. This was freaking useless. The longer I continued, the more mysteries I found. How in the hell was anyone supposed to solve this thing?

Still, a few minutes later, I pored over those three secret pages. Maybe they contained a hint that would help me make sense of them. Yet they all turned out to be the same. They all talked about topics that had no connection to the adventure whatsoever. One talked about the different ages of the Earth, starting from the Precambrian. The second talked about the evolution of apes, and the last one about a certain subset of plants, roses, to be exact.

For a moment, I tried to come up with how those things might be related to the overall adventure. There had to be some sort of tie-in, something I hadnโ€™t discovered yet. Maybe there would be an odd reference in one of them or in an adventure path I hadnโ€™t explored yet. Then I fell back on the couch, telling myself this was impossible. What if the bookโ€™s solution had nothing to do with the adventure itself, but could only be reached via cryptic references and hidden details? What if the entire adventure was nothing but a giant red herring, only there to hide real clues?

No, enough was enough. Iโ€™d done all I could, and Iโ€™d not waste any more time with this bullshit. I pushed the book away and turned on the TV.

Not even half an hour later, the book was in my hands again. I cursed myself for doing it, but I couldnโ€™t help it. Iโ€™d done so much work, I thought, staring at the stacks of notes on the couch table. No, I wonโ€™t give up. The problem was, I didnโ€™t know how much or how little Iโ€™d already done, how far Iโ€™d come.

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

I did exactly what Iโ€™d done before. I noted down the page numbers, the different choices, and made references whenever I found something interesting. This, however, would only work on a smaller scale. What I needed was to get a better view, a bigger picture. And so I started to not only map out, but visualize every individual adventure path. I started with a normal notepad, but those pages were way too small. Even after taping multiple together, it wasnโ€™t enough. No, I needed bigger sheets of paper for that.

I was on my way to the mall a minute later, and once I arrived, I barged into the office supply store. After pestering an irritated clerk, I bought a stack of the biggest sketchpads they had available. I didnโ€™t even look at the price. I just paid. With those, and new found motivation, I made my way back home.

The first thing I did was to determine the starting point of each different adventure path. This was easy enough. After that, I started with the first one, the fantasy path. Thankfully, I only needed to copy the notes Iโ€™d already taken and turn them into a visual map of the entire path. I wrote down the very first page number, added the three choices, connected those to the next, and so on.

Things quickly got complicated. I had to start over multiple times because there wasnโ€™t enough space, not even on my huge new sketchpads. In the end, I had to resort to taping them together, creating giant, confusing maps of lines and numbers. I even kept a stack of notes, related to every single path, filled with all the objects, references and hints that seemed important. When I realized my living room table wasnโ€™t big enough, I used the floor, before I eventually resorted to putting the enormous sheets of paper up against my living room wall.

Over the course of the next two weeks, I visualized all the eleven adventure paths, as well as their general connections. By then, almost my entire wall was covered in a giant, crazy mural of color-coded lines and numbers. When I was done, I stepped back and had a look at it. My god, there was so much. This was absolutely insane. It almost made my head spin and a nervous laugh escaped me. And yet, I was proud, more than proud of what Iโ€™d accomplished. With this, I was sure I was close to solving the book. I had to be.

The first thing I learned from this new approach was that none of the adventure paths had an actual ending. You either ended up back at the beginning or at one of the hubs, as I came to call them, which allowed you to switch to a different path. No final path existed, and neither a final chapter that told you that youโ€™d made it.

Thatโ€™s when I knew the solution was what Iโ€™d already feared. It wasnโ€™t on the surfaces, and not part of the adventure, but hidden within it. The first of the secret pages had talked about stars. I knew what I had to do and began searching through my notes for references about stars. Although I couldnโ€™t remember any, there had to be some. I was sure of it.

For the entire next day, I went through my notes meticulously, but I found no mention of stars anywhere. The word appeared nowhere in the damned book, except on this secret page. Then I thought of something else. That riddle about Milton and Galileo Galilei hadnโ€™t been related to the adventure. What if the mystery behind those secret pages wasnโ€™t either?

I laughed in misery. Just how much more insane could this book get?

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

Dammit, I didnโ€™t even know what I was supposed to be looking for!

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

Maybe it was all bullshit. What if all those secret pages with their stars, apes, and plants werenโ€™t even related to the mystery? What if they were just another red herring? Or, I thought, what if there was something else to them? What if it was similar to the overall adventure? It wasnโ€™t their content that was important, but something hidden within them.

I instantly decided on a fresh approach. I had to find all these pages, and look for some sort of connection between them. When I was done the next day, Iโ€™d found fifty-three in total. They all talked about different, obscure topics, all unrelated to the adventure. I noted them all down, but I still felt like I was missing something.

Once more, I told myself to take a step back. Donโ€™t get hung up on the content. Look for something else.

Over the course of another damned week, I tried to find as many of the small riddles that led to these pages. I found twenty-one. I analyzed them meticulously. All were unrelated to the adventure, and only pointed to the place the pages in the book could be found. It was all worthless.

When I abandoned this idea, at least for now, the book had been in my possession for over six weeks. I looked up, stared at my living room wall, at the stacks of notes, and wondered what the hell I was doing.

Why I was doing it?

โ€˜Thereโ€™s a reward at the end,โ€™ the old man had said, but I knew I didnโ€™t do it because of that. No, I just wanted to solve the damned thing.

But why?

To prove that you can do it, the little voice in the back of my head answered.

None of this is important, though.

Yet the little voice protested again. Youโ€™ve spent six weeks of your life on it.

Yeah, and thatโ€™s enough. I wonโ€™t fucking solve it, anyway.

With those words still on my mind, I stormed up to the damned wall. I tore down the first of the many pages, the first part of the ghastly mural of insanity, and began crumbling it. Iโ€™d barely started when I stopped and looked up.

It has been so much work, the little voice piped up once more. And I knew what it was saying, what it meant.

What if Iโ€™d discover something important the very next day? What if I came up with that single piece of information to solve it all, right after Iโ€™d destroyed it?

โ€œNo, put it back, put it back, you idiot!โ€ I heard someone scream.

I jerked around, only to realize that it had been my very own voice.

Then I got down on my knees, and with shaking hands, I smoothed out the paper before I put it back. A sigh of relief escaped me. It was still all there. I thankfully had destroyed nothing.

Jesus, what the hell had I been thinking?!

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

When I finally looked up, I saw how late it had gotten. My eyes grew wide, and I cursed. It was past two in the morning. I had to get up for work in three freaking hours.

The next day, I was a mess. I was sleep-deprived and only functioned with strong coffee. Still, I almost dozed off twice in front of the computer.

โ€œLong night, Todd?โ€ one of my coworkers asked, giving me a little wink.

โ€œYouโ€™ve got no idea,โ€ I mumbled. โ€œThose freaking secret pages are driving me insane.โ€

โ€œThose… what? Pages? The hell are you talking about?โ€

โ€œOh, eh, nothing. Just a… movie I watched that got me thinking.โ€

He eyed me curiously for another second before he shrugged and walked off.

Shit man, keep it together. You donโ€™t want to end up as the office nutjob. That freaking book was getting to me. No, not the book, the fact I wasnโ€™t making any new progress. I felt myself getting mad just thinking about it.

โ€œFreaking hell,โ€ I cursed, and made another coworker look up.

โ€œYou okay there, Todd?โ€ she asked.

โ€œYeah, just tired. Made a mistake, thatโ€™s all.โ€

For the rest of the day, I forced myself to keep my mouth shut, and not mutter about anything related to the book. Hell, I told myself not to think about it, but it was an impossible feat. Even when I stared at the screen and went through customer reports, my thoughts were with stars and apes, with dragons and freaking spaceships.

I spent the next few days in this strange purgatory of non-decisions and non-hints. I went through the entire book again, studied all my notes, and looked for references. Hell, I even followed all the paths backwards. Yet I didnโ€™t find a damned thing.

At work, as I slaved away in front of yet another Excel-document, copying and pasting customer purchase numbers, it finally clicked. Numbers. What if it wasnโ€™t related to the text at all? Maybe it was similar to the riddles that sent me to those pages and the mystery behind them was related to their page numbers, or the page numbers in general?

Once at home, I went to work right away. I told myself once more that I needed to get the full picture. I noted down all the page numbers in the book, one after another. When I was done, and looked at the result, nothing stood out to me, at least not at first. Then I haphazardly picked one of the secret pages. It was page 427 and was right in front of page 811. Then it continued on.

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

This one being page 528. After that, the regular page numbers continued.

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

Suddenly I wondered about something. Iโ€™d put all those page numbers down because of the secret pages. What if they werenโ€™t placed randomly, like Iโ€™d originally thought? Yet when I checked their distribution, and put the number of pages before and after them into sequence, I found no correlation. Then I began adding up the page numbers. First those that appeared before, and then those that appeared after the secret pages. The results made me frown. Half of them were too big and exceeded the total number of book pages by far.

Then, staring at the pages from 111 to 137, which Iโ€™d just added together, I got another idea. What if I only added together their last digits? The result I came up with was six-hundred-and-forty-eight. Which was exactly the secret page that followed afterward! My eyes grew wide. I had it, hadnโ€™t I? The hint Iโ€™d been looking for! I was going livid.

Right away, I went to the next one, and calculated the preceding numbers, only to come up with an entirely different result than the page number of the secret page that followed them. Cursing, I got up. It had been nothing but a stupid coincidence. I laughed, but this time in abject misery, mocking my stupidity.

Howโ€™d it be so damn easy, you idiot? There was no way. None of this was easy. None of it!

Yet as I stared at the result, Iโ€™d just come up with, I noticed something. The result of my calculation was seven-hundred-and-two. The page number was three-hundred-and-fifty-one. Wait. Wait. Wait. Thatโ€™s half of seven-hundred-and-two! Maybe it really was nothing but a coincidence, and maybe I was grasping at straws, but what else was I to do?

The next result I came up with was one-hundred-and-seventy-six. If I multiplied it by three, it gave me the page number of the secret page that followed it: 528. The number seven-hundred-and-fifteen, divided by five, gave me the page number of secret page 143.

With newfound energy, I continued adding, dividing, and multiplying. Once I was done, I saw that it all checked out. All the page numbers of the secret pages resulted from calculations using the last two digits of their preceding pages.

What did it mean, though? Did it mean anything? The exhilaration Iโ€™d been under ebbed away, and I sat there, staring at all my calculations, wondering if there was any meaning to it. Yet there had to be. This couldnโ€™t have been designed as another red herring. This was too damn complex. No, there had to be a reason for this.

What if there was an order? If I went through all my calculations, I noticed that a sum was never divided by the same number. The highest number that a result was divided by was twenty-six. The highest a sum was multiplied by was twenty-seven. It was fifty-three distinctly different calculations.

With that, I started ordering them one by one, staring backward from the highest division up to the highest multiplication. Then I put the topic of each page behind the numbers on the resulting list. Iโ€™d hoped for something. Iโ€™d hoped to find it starting with the page about the origin of the universe, followed by constellations and stars up to the evolution of apes, plants and other animals.

Yet it was all mixed-up, complete and utter nonsense. There was no order to it at all! Even when I ordered them in other ways, trying to find some sort of connection. It was the same. Nothing but nonsense.

My hands were shaking with anger. I crumbled up the stupid ordered lists and threw them across the room. Then I cursed in sheer and utter rage. This was freaking stupid! This was insane! All of it was nothing but pure fucking nonsense! I picked up a random object on my table and hurled it against the wall, where it shattered into pieces. Then I threw aside a chair that stood in my way and even kicked over the small couch table.

I only stopped when one of my neighbors banged against the wall, screaming at me to knock it off, and threatening to call the cops. Instantly, the anger went away, and I stared in shock at my demolished living room. What he the hell was happening to me? Whyโ€™d I started destroying my things at one in the freaking morning?

Then I smoothed out the lists and put them on one of the few remaining free spots on my living room wall. Who knows, I might need them after all.

I laughed as I looked from them to the rest of the wall. It was entirely covered by now. Even worse, stacks upon stacks of notes had accumulated in front of them. I was proud, but I also knew that this thing was absolutely insane. Once more, I couldnโ€™t help but wonder what I was doing.

Shaking my head, I turned around and went to bed. While my fingers rested on the light switch, I turned around one last time. I stared at the mad lines, at all the paths who were connecting and interconnecting here and there. Nothing but lines upon lines. Here and there, if I stared at them for long enough, I could almost make out shapes.

I froze. What if it was a visual puzzle? What if there was a hint hidden in the shapes of the paths? I spent days drawing points and lines and connections, warping them into surreal shapes. This was stupid, wasnโ€™t it? Howโ€™d it be visual? There was probably not a damn thing to be got from this. Yet I couldnโ€™t stop. Each day, I spent the afternoon, the evening, and half the night drawing. Eventually, it all came to nothing. There was nothing but mad lines, and not a clear shape in sight.

I didnโ€™t give up though. Hell, I wasnโ€™t even discouraged. I was beyond that, far beyond that. What if there was something else? Maybe a hidden code corresponding to the page numbers?

By now Iโ€™d completely forgotten about my former vow to not think about the book at work. Instead, I read up on cryptography. I went through article after article. I learned about the Caesar Code and Binary Code, the Polybius Cipher and the Hex Code. Before long, I spent more time reading up on things than doing any actual work. Eventually, I even brought pages filled with numbers with me, cross-checking them for hints of any and all codes.

I heard coworkers whispering behind my back. Theyโ€™d seen the weird articles I was studying, heard me mumble to myself, and even noticed the endless lists of numbers I brought with me each day.

Eventually, my superior came up to me. When he asked me what I was doing with all those weird pages, I told him it was nothing but a little puzzle, a way to keep my brain active.

โ€œWell, Todd,โ€ he started in a condescending voice. โ€œYouโ€™re not here to do any of those โ€˜little puzzles.โ€™ Youโ€™re here to do your damn job. Where are the calculations for this month? Iโ€™ve been waiting for them all day!โ€

โ€œOh, I guess Iโ€™m almost done with them. I just need another hour or-โ€œ

My voice trailed off when he picked up one of the page. Suddenly, when I saw him holding it, I grew nervous, restless even.

โ€œWhat even is this? Itโ€™s just random numbers.โ€

He saw my face, saw the way my eyes grew wide when heโ€™d picked it up. The hint of a smile washed over his face as he crumbled it up. He opened his mouth for another remark, but before he could, I jumped off my chair and ripped the page from his hand. He cringed back in shock.

โ€œThe hellโ€™s wrong with you!?โ€ he screamed at me.

Instead of saying anything, I smoothed out the paper and made sure he hadnโ€™t torn it apart. Only after a few seconds did I realize what Iโ€™d just done. By now, half the office had gotten up to watch the weird exchange. Suddenly, I felt very watched and almost sunk back into my chair.

โ€œSorry, I didnโ€™t mean to…โ€ I started mumbling, but soon broke under the pressure of all those eyes.

โ€œGet back to work and finish those damned calculations! If I see you tinkering with any of this shit again, you can clean out your desk!โ€

With that, he stormed off. I heard people all around me. Some were snickering, others were speaking in more reserved, even worried tones. Yep, I thought. Itโ€™s official. Iโ€™m the office nutjob.

Right away, I closed all the Wikipedia articles I still had open, and put away all my notes. And then, grudgingly, annoyed, and half-mad at the distraction it represented, I went back to work. Somehow, though, it felt meaningless. None of these stupid calculations and customer orders mattered. What the hell was I even doing? What if it really was a code, or, hell, a double code? My mind went wild with ideas. Five minutes later, the notes were back in my hand. I couldnโ€™t even remember taking them out again.

Cursing, I pushed them back into my backpack, and more than a little frustrated, forced myself to work on calculations until the day was finally over. The moment my shift ended, I jumped off my chair and rushed for the door. People stared at me, their faces a mixture of amusement and worry. I didnโ€™t care. I had work to do. The important kind of work!

Iโ€™d just tried to find another connection between the page numbers and the secret pages when my doorbell rang. I ignored it, but it just kept on ringing. When it finally stopped, I sighed with relief. Just leave me alone, I cursed. Iโ€™ve got work to do! Then, mere moments later, my phone vibrated on the other end of the room. Dammit, Iโ€™d forgotten to put it on mute. I waited for it to stop, but it didnโ€™t. It kept ringing and ringing. Cursing, I went over to see who it was.

It was my friend Andrew. More than a little annoyed, I answered it.

โ€œYo, Todd, you home?โ€ I heard his voice from the phone, but also more distant and muffled, from behind the front door.

My first reaction was anger. Then I pushed it away. What the hell was wrong with me? This was Andrew. He was my best friend. The only one from our old group who still lived in the same city. Right away, I thought about how long it had been since Iโ€™d last seen him. Surprised, I realized it mustโ€™ve been weeks, maybe months. One glance at the mess in my living room told me why.

โ€œYeah, sure, hold on,โ€ I said over the phone, and made my way to the front door.

Andrew smile at me, and held up two six-packs.

โ€œHavenโ€™t seen you in forever! How about we have a few? I got quite the story for you, man!โ€

โ€œSure, come on in!โ€

Andrew had barely set foot in the living room when he stopped. His eyes grew wide as he stared at the wall and the stacks of paper.

โ€œHoly shit, man. I was wondering why I havenโ€™t heard from you. The hell is all that? You working on some sort of project?โ€

โ€œKind of,โ€ I mumbled, more than a little embarrassed.

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

โ€œSorry about the mess.โ€

โ€œNah, man, itโ€™s all right. So, the thing I was about to tell you… You remember, Thomas, right?โ€

Thomas, I thought. Did I know a Thomas? Then I remembered him. Of course, I did. Heโ€™d been part of our group back in the day. I rubbed my temples for a second, wondering what the hell was wrong with me, before I nodded.

โ€œHeโ€™s getting married, and you wonโ€™t believe who the lucky girl is!โ€

With that, Andrew told me that our friend Tomas had been dating Susan, Andrewโ€™s cousin, for the past three months, and the two of them were going to get married. I listened, nodded here and there, even laughed a few times absentmindedly, but my eyes wandered to my notes again and again.

For a moment, I space out, thinking about an idea that had popped into my mind just before heโ€™d arrived. I mustโ€™ve set there for almost an entire minute, holding my beer and staring off at nothing until Andrew waved his hand in front of my face.

โ€œYo, dude, you listening?โ€

โ€œWhat? Oh, sorry, no. I spaced out for a second.โ€

โ€œAll right, man, I gotta ask. What is all this? What sort of crazy thing are you working on here? Havenโ€™t seen you this into something in years.โ€

I sighed before I pointed at the book.

โ€œItโ€™s one of those Choose Your Own Adventure books,โ€ I started.

With that, the floodgates broke open, and I told him all about it. He listened, at first curious, but after a while, his expression changed. There was visible concern as I rambled on about secret pages, strange objects, and cryptography.

โ€œTodd, hold on, hold on. What the hell are you even talking about?โ€

I stared at him.

โ€œThe book. You know, those secret pages mustโ€™ve some sort of meaning. At first, I thought there was an order to them, but they are too chaotic. If you add up all their page numbers, you get 20670, and if you divide this by-โ€œ

โ€œAll right, man, stop,โ€ he cut me off. โ€œSo youโ€™re adding up all those numbers, I get that, but for what?โ€

I began explaining again. I tried, but he couldnโ€™t follow me.

โ€œYeah, I donโ€™t get it.โ€

โ€œAll right, look,โ€ I said, and walked over to the wall covered in lines and numbers.

I told him about the different adventure paths, the references, the secret pages, and when and how they appeared. His face was blank as I rambled on and on.

โ€œDude, you might want to take a break. This sounds, well, crazy.โ€

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

โ€œYeah, I guess youโ€™re right.โ€

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

โ€œShit man, you did all this? Just for a damned book?โ€

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

โ€œDonโ€™t touch it!โ€ I called out before I realized what Iโ€™d done.

Andrew stumbled back, shocked. โ€œSorry, I didnโ€™t mean to-โ€œ

And then it happened. He bumped right into the stacks of neatly sorted notes Iโ€™d placed in front of the wall. They toppled over one another, the pages scattering over the floor and intermixing. My eyes grew wide. Oh god, no. Anger rose inside of me. It had taken me so goddamn long to sort them all out, to order them. There was a freaking method to it, and now heโ€™d destroyed it. Heโ€™d destroyed the work of entire freaking days!

โ€œWhat the fuck are you doing?โ€ I screamed at him.

He cringed back, only now realizing what had happened. He bent down, picking up random pages and putting them on top of one another. When I saw it, I ripped them from his hand and pushed him back.

โ€œNo, donโ€™t fucking touch them! Those two donโ€™t belong together, you idiot! Are you freaking insane!?โ€

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

โ€œYou know, Todd, thatโ€™s what I should ask you.โ€

โ€œWhat the hell do you mean?โ€ I snapped at him. โ€œYou destroyed the work of days! Days! This is-โ€œ

โ€œThis is what, man?โ€ he cut me off once more. โ€œItโ€™s nonsense. Itโ€™s a freaking childrenโ€™s book, nothing more.โ€

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

โ€œNonsense? Youโ€™ve got no fucking idea how far Iโ€™ve come! Youโ€™ve got no clue what Iโ€™ve done already! And here you are telling me itโ€™s nonsense?โ€

His face grew hard. For a second, he was about to say something, but then he just shook his head and let out a bitter laugh.

โ€œJesus man, youโ€™ve lost it.โ€

With that, he grabbed his things and went on his way to the front door. He turned back once, glancing at me.

โ€œThis isnโ€™t normal.โ€

I heard him, but didnโ€™t react, too busy reorganizing my scattered notes. The notes he had scattered. At the front door, he muttered about how he was worried about me, how I โ€˜needed to stopโ€™ or โ€˜should get help.โ€™ I only listened with half an ear. If he said anything else before he slammed the door, I didnโ€™t hear it.

Hours later, when I was done sorting them all out, I realized what Iโ€™d done, and how Iโ€™d acted. For the first time, I grew truly scared. That hadnโ€™t been normal. That wasnโ€™t me. Whyโ€™d I gone crazy like this?

I took first one step back from the wall, then another before I went to pick up my phone. When I tried to call Andrew, he didnโ€™t pick up. Then I saw how late it was, long past three in the morning. I wrote him a quick message, apologizing for my behavior, and told him he was right. I should take a break from the damned book.

Thatโ€™s what I did right away. I picked up my laptop, made my way to the bedroom, and this time, I turned off the light without looking over my shoulder. I lay down and started browsing YouTube, telling myself to just enjoy a few videos. Yet, even as I watched video after video, the little voice in the back of my head spoke up again. It told me I should go on, told me to get back to the living room.

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

โ€œShut up, goddammit!โ€ I screamed at myself to quiet the subconscious voice. โ€œI freaking know,โ€ I said quieter. โ€œGod, I freaking know.โ€

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

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

I stopped and rubbed my temples. Calm down, donโ€™t go crazy. Calm down and take a step back. You donโ€™t even know if there are any damn codes hidden in the book. You did well deciphering all the different adventure paths, the connections between them, and discovering all the secret pages. But maybe thereโ€™s something else you havenโ€™t discovered yet?

That was the question that told me what I had to do. Something I hadnโ€™t dared to do so far. I had to go through the entire book, page by page and chapter by chapter. So far, Iโ€™d only made my way through it following the overall adventure. What if there were chapters, or even entire pages, I hadnโ€™t discovered yet? With newfound energy and a new plan, I started right away.

My phone rang shortly after noon, but this time, I didnโ€™t even bother with it.

I didnโ€™t bother noting down chapters, choices, and connections. Instead, I took note of every single object I came upon. I wrote down its page number, the corresponding adventure path, and any reference made about it.

It was a momentous task. Yet after an entire day, Iโ€™d barely made it through the first one-hundred-and-thirty pages. The next day, Sunday, I didnโ€™t even manage one-hundred. The further I came, the more objects I noticed, the more combinations and references. I constantly had to go back, to cross-check my notes, and change them accordingly. It was the most enduring task Iโ€™d ever attempted, not only regarding the book, but in my entire life.

It took me weeks. Time and again, I went to the office supply store, buying stacks upon stacks of notebooks, only to fill them up by the end of the day. At work, I was barely functioning. I typed in numbers and customer names on autopilot. By now, I didnโ€™t even get stares anymore. I was ignored. A shell of a man who stumbled to his cubicle in the morning, and rushed from it in the afternoon.

Day after day, and week after week, I slaved away over the bookโ€™s many pages. Until the day I was finally done. I canโ€™t even say how many weeks it had taken me. There were stacks upon stacks of notebooks all over my living room. It had to be hundreds of them. They were full of notes, objects, names, words, references, anything.

Iโ€™d just created a table of how often every single object appeared in which adventure path when I noticed a new hint. I stared at it with a giant grin on my face. The Ruby Orb had been the very first object Iโ€™d added to the table.

It appeared in all the different adventure paths:

1. Fantasy – thirty-one times

2. Space – three times

3. Stone Age – two times

4. Ocean and Pirates – eleven times

5. Desert Ruins – twenty-nine times

6. Mountains – seventeen times

7. City-State – seven times

8. Ancient Rome – five times

9. Jungle Tribes – thirteen times

10. Small Village – nineteen times

11. Underwater Civilization – twenty-three times

As I wrote down those numbers, I realized how familiar they were. Cross-checking them online, I found out why. They were all prime numbers! Yes, I thought, Iโ€™d found something new!

I quickly did the same for another object, the Ebony Stick. It too appeared in all paths. Four times in the fantasy one. Six times in the city-state one, and so on, always increasing by two in each subsequent path, up to twenty-six times in the Stone Age one. When I checked two others, I found similar sequences.

Thatโ€™s when I knew what I had to do. I had to go through all the objects, all the hundreds of objects in the book, and check how often they appeared. Here it was, another correlation, another part of the puzzle. I was exhilarated, in a state of glee, and unbound excitement. These sequences, maybe they were the keys to figuring out what the secret pages meant, maybe their distribution and page numbers as well. I could feel it. The solution was so damn close.

I slept when necessary, ate when necessary, and slept right there on the living room floor. Work, and the idea that I had to go, never even crossed my mind. My phone was on the other end of the room. I ignored it. It wasnโ€™t important. This right here, thatโ€™s whatโ€™s important.

I was done by the end of the week. It was long past midnight on Saturday when Iโ€™d finally deciphered the sequences for all three-hundred-and-eleven objects in the book. When I was done with my work, I looked at the tables of objects in a state of awe. I spread them out in front of me and marveled at the pages. For a moment, I was about to dive right into them, but realized how exhausted I was.

For the first time since the beginning of the week, I picked up my phone. It was off, mustโ€™ve been for days. I connected it to the charger and turned it on. I was bombarded with a plethora of notifications and messages. For almost a minute, the damned thing didnโ€™t stop vibrating. There were a few messages from Andrew, asking how I was doing, and if Iโ€™d stopped obsessing over the damned book yet. I laughed and closed the chat again.

Iโ€™d also received countless emails. Most of them were from work, and only now did I realize I hadnโ€™t shown up at all. They started normal enough, reminding me to call in sick, became reproachful after a day or two, and finally, angry. They told me this had been the last straw, and to come in Monday to clean out my desk. It was strange how little I cared, how little it mattered in the grander scale of things. I almost laughed again, then threw the phone aside and laid down to catch some sleep.

When I woke up, I went right back to work. I tinkered with the sequences, looked at each one of them, added them up, multiplied and divided them. It was the Crown of Ice that finally made me look up. When I added all its appearances together, I came to a total of one-thousand. This damned thing, I thought, it was by far the most common object in the book.

I went back to my notes. It was said in the Manuscript of the Seven Seas that the Crown of Ice was found in the Crypt of the Dragon. The crypt was located in the desert ruins path. I went back to it, page 1544, and read the part again. There were three choices. One sent me to leave without the crown and back to a desert tribe. Destroying the crown ended in painful death, while the third option was wearing it. All right, wearing the crown opened a secret passage to the location of the Magic Water, and from there, back on my way through the desert.

Dammit, I thought I had something! I was about to go back to the list. Maybe the number thousand was yet another coincidence. Then something made me look up. The crown appeared in the desert ruins a total of fifty-three times. How long was it again? I stepped up to my living room wall. Ignoring various loops and dead ends, the entire path only encompassed a total of seventy-eight chapters before it started back from the beginning.

Chapter fifty-three described what you found if you opened a chest in the Ancient Pyramid. I read the chapter again, carefully. It was titled โ€˜The Treasure Chest.โ€™ The chest contained a total of two-hundred-and-eighty-nine gold coins. When I went back to the list of objects, I noticed that the gold coin was mentioned a total of two-hundred-and-eighty-nine times. The same was true for the sparkling diamonds. There were a total of thirty-three in the chest, and the object itself came up thirty-three times.

I got hold of an empty sketchpad, and wrote down โ€˜chest, pyramid and treasureโ€™ in huge letters. Below it, I noted down all the two dozen objects in the chest, and how often they were mentioned. While I did it, I wondered if similar sections existed for every other object in the book. What if every objectโ€™s number of appearance was mentioned somewhere? Not just in this chest, but anywhere.

And then, on a whim, I asked myself another question. What if certain objects werenโ€™t? What if there were just a few, or maybe just one, whose number was mentioned nowhere? Maybe those were the important ones? I spent the entirety of Sunday following through with this idea. I calculated, added objects to yet more lists, and followed through paths and loops, studied my notes, and slowly, the number of objects got smaller and smaller.

Eventually, just like Iโ€™d hoped, there was a single object left whose total number of appearances was mentioned nowhere. It was a small, red die. It was mentioned here and there, but only ever in passing, when people played with it in bars on in a street.

There had to be something to this damned thing! I knew it! After this entire week, after all those months Iโ€™d spent on this damned book, Iโ€™d finally narrowed it down to a single object. A shiver went down my spine when I realized this might be it. This might be the solution Iโ€™d been searching for all this time.

I went back to my notes about the red die and its appearances. Here a few were playing with it, there someone was holding it in their hand, and here it rolled over the floor after a fight broke out. Finally, I found what Iโ€™d been looking for. There was only a single instance in the entire book where you could interact with it. In a bar in space, you could join a futuristic game of dice. When the game was done, you could pocket the red die.

The short chapter that followed was mundane and almost unimportant. But when I read it, I noticed something. It wasnโ€™t the text, but the choices below. Werenโ€™t they the same as in the chapter before? I went back to the preceding chapter and reread it. Yes, the same two choices, sending you to the same two pages. Almost as if picking the die didnโ€™t matter at all, and making it appear is nothing but a red herring.

And when I saw it, I grinned wider than ever before. There had to be a hint here. No, there had to be a way to finish this entire damned book!

I wrote down the entire chapter and went back to work, studying it. I checked everything about it: the page number, the chapter title, colors, words, anything I could think of. Until late in the morning hours, I pondered over this short, single chapter. I could barely keep my eyes open when I stumbled upon it. It was silly, but I was instantly wide awake again.

The number of words in each sentence was eight. The number of sentences was eight as well. Eight sentences, with eight words each. This was no coincidence. This was it. The total number of words was sixty-four, the square number of eight. It was much too deliberate to be yet another coincidence.

I rushed back to the book, almost stumbling over my feet, and opened page 64. Like a crazed, starved animal, I poured over the words on the page, almost pressing my face against it. The solution, it had to be right here! Yet when I was done reading, I was dumbfounded. The entire page comprised a single chapter, a chapter I knew damn well. I also knew the page number 64 damn well.

It was the beginning of the fantasy path. I read once again that I was a young farmer, standing in front of a burned down farm, the bodies of my dead parents lying next to me and about to set out on a grand adventure. For the next three hours, I analyzed every single word in the chapter, every single one, and I found as many hints as I could search for. I went back to the chapter about the die, and slowly came to another conclusion, and then another.

The number of certain letters corresponded with the number of certain items in the space path. If you put certain letters from certain words together, you ended up with another number. I followed every single one of them, but each one ended at another mundane page in the book. I slaved away over those as well, analyzed them and found more hints, more connections, more clues. And the longer and the more I analyzed them, the more I could find, if I wanted so. There were an endless number of nonsensical clues and hints. They were all leading me on, leading me around in circles. On and on and on.

I sat there, staring at the damned book, and at thousands of pages of notes. I sat in front of an entire wall, covered in mad lines and scribbles. And then I laughed. For long, terrible minutes, I couldnโ€™t stop laughing. This was all crazy. This was all entirely and utterly crazy.

And finally, it clicked. At this singular moment, it finally and ultimately clicked. There was no solution. The book had no solution. It finally made sense.

Iโ€™d slaved away for weeks, months, and all Iโ€™d done was to walk in circles, continuing from one hint to another, only to be sent back to the beginning. The entire damned book was a loop, a loop of loops with secret loops that sent you to more secret loops.

For the first time in months, I closed the book and put it away. After that, I slowly took down all the mad pages on my wall, stacked up all the notes, and put them in away in a box in a state of apathy.

I was done.

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

That night, I didnโ€™t sleep. I lay in bed, contemplating a lot of things. My life, my work, the book, and why Iโ€™d been so taken by it. Yet just as with the book, there was no solution. There was nothing to it all.

The next day, with the book in my backpack, I made my way back to the store. It felt as if the entire world, an endless number of possibilities, was resting on my back. I knew I had to return it. I had to get rid of it before it threw me into yet another crazy fit.

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

โ€œCan I help you with-?โ€

His voice trailed off when he recognized me, and a surprised look came over his face.

โ€œWell hello there, young man. Havenโ€™t seen you in quite a while.โ€

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

โ€œIโ€™d like to return this.โ€

The old man probed me for a moment.

โ€œWeโ€™ve got a no-money-back policy,โ€ he said, pointing at a small, almost illegible sign behind himself.

โ€œYeah, thatโ€™s fine. I just want to get rid of it. Iโ€™m done.โ€

โ€œSo, you got your reward, then?โ€

I couldnโ€™t help but laugh at that.

โ€œGuess so.โ€

โ€œWhat was it?โ€ the old man asked, curiously.

โ€œItโ€™s meaningless. Thereโ€™s no end to it. I just goes on forever.โ€

โ€œOh,โ€ he mouthed.

โ€œYou ever tried it yourself?โ€

โ€œDid once, when I was younger, but got nowhere. Was way too hard for me.โ€

โ€œThereโ€™s one thing Iโ€™ve been wondering about. Who the hell wrote this thing? I mean, itโ€™s freaking insane. Howโ€™d you ever write something like this?โ€

โ€œWell, to tell you the truth, thereโ€™s something I didnโ€™t tell you when you first came in. I originally bought the book from a street merchant half a century ago. He told me a few things, and I learned a few more from other people over the years.โ€

โ€œLike what?โ€

โ€œItโ€™s nothing but rumors, of course. The merchant told me the book had been written by the devil himself. Someone else told me it was supposedly written by Machiavelli back in the day to confuse a man whoโ€™s wronged him and drive him mad. Another person was convinced it was the work of aliens. The most plausible, however, is that thereโ€™s no single author, but that it was written over the course of centuries, with each new writer adding to it, making it longer and more complex.โ€

โ€œHeh, sounds about-โ€œ I started, but the old man raised a hand.

Then he brought his head close to mine, his voice changing to a conspiratorial whisper.

โ€œThereโ€™s one more. Someone else told me it was written by no other than God himself as a big, giant joke about our earthly existence itself.โ€

I laughed, but it was a weak laugh. Nothing but a giant joke. That fit it well, didnโ€™t it?

As I stepped out of the store and stared at the urban bustle around me, I began thinking.

People were hurrying past me on their way to work. Cars and buses rushed up and down the street. As I watched it all, the ever-repeating frenzy of civilization, I realized that all of it was yet another never-ending loop. On and on and on it went, everyone doing the same thing over and over and over again.

And as I walked on, I burst out laughing again. Maybe that was all right, and maybe it didnโ€™t matter. Who knows, maybe the book was true after all.

Maybe all of this; life, existence, just like the damned book, was nothing but Godโ€™s big, giant joke.

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“Do You Want to Play Again?”

These words hovered in front of me, just a meter above the ground.

Below them were two more words. Yes. No.

I looked around, bewildered, but there was nothing else there. The only thing surrounding me was an endless, blazing white.

What was this? Where was I?

I read the question once more. Then out sheer instinct, not knowing why myself, I reached out and touched the word Yes.

An almost physical sensation made me jerk up in my bed.

Julie stirred next to me and opened her eyes.

“What is it?” she asked sleepily.

“Just some weird dream,” I mumbled.

My eyes wandered to the bedside clock. It was five in the morning and almost time to get up anyway.

I threw the covers off me, prompting another groan from Julie and headed to the bathroom.

I was already down in the kitchen, making breakfast when she entered. She still looked sleepy, eyes half-open, her hair a wild mess.

“Morning, babe,” I greeted her, put my arms around her and kissed her passionately.

“Ugh, I need coffee,” she mumbled, freeing herself from my embrace.

I couldn’t help but laugh. Julie wasn’t a morning person, never had been.

We’d been married for two years by now, but we’d been together forever. We’re one of those couples who grew up together. We started off as friends, then became best friends, and eventually lovers.

I guess we were always destined to be together. Star-crossed lovers, if you forgive me the kitschy expression.

Now I’d like to tell you that we were the perfect couple. One that never fights, and who’s every day is a dream come true. We weren’t. To be frank, I don’t think those couples actually exist. No, we were like every other couple out there. We had good days as well as bad days.

Today should be one of the latter.

As fights so often do, it started with the smallest of things.

“Dammit, James, where’s the milk?” Julie called out to me while frantically rummaging through the fridge.

“Shouldn’t there be some in the fridge?”

The words poured out of me, almost like a rehearsed line from some other fight we’d had before.

“No, there’s nothing. Didn’t you get any yesterday? I told you we were out!”

“Shit, I think I forgot, sorry babe, with the whole restructuring at work I must’ve-“

“Ugh, it’s always work with you these days. Every day you go on about that damn restructuring, god, I’m so sick of it!”

“Jesus, Julie, I’ve got enough on my mind already! Can’t you just give me a break?”

“You know what, James? How about I’ll do exactly that?”

With this, she stormed from the kitchen.

“Shit, babe, I didn’t mean,” I called after her, but she’d already returned to the bedroom, throwing the door behind her.

I sighed and rubbed my temples. Shit, this stupid company restructuring had been going on forever. It really started to take a toll on our relationship.

As I ate my breakfast in silence, I wondered how many times I’d done so these days.

Before I left for work, I tried to reconcile with Julie once more. The moment I set foot into the bedroom, though, I saw that she’d retreated under the covers.

I knew what it meant: Leave me alone, James.

I frowned, mumbled a goodbye and went to work.

Work was hell, like every other day at this damned company. Business process re-engineering they called it. It was supposed to make everything run faster, smoother, and easier. Yeah, right, all it did was to make my life hell.

It was almost eight in the evening when I was finally done with work. Between similarly unlucky office drones, I shuffled towards the bus station in front of the office complex.

The bus ride home was a blur. I was only half awake as the details of the city outside became nothing but a blazing, glistering mush of lights.

Once I was off the bus, I started down the street to our suburban home. Then I remembered the stupid fight with Julie this morning. All over some milk.

I was sure Julie had already forgotten about it. Hell, she’d probably gone and got some milk herself. Either way, I decided to take a small detour to the grocery store. If she’d bought milk already, at least we’d have something to laugh about. God knows, things like this were almost a common theme by now.

It was shortly after nine that I arrived at home.

The house was quiet. Had Julie already gone to bed? That wasn’t like her at all.

I unlocked the front door and stepped inside.

“Babe? I’m home! And guess what, I’ve got milk!”

I got no answer, but I heard something coming from the hallway, no the kitchen.

“Julie? Why do you have the lights turned off?”

There was a disgusting wet sound when I entered the kitchen, and my feet felt strangely warm and sticky. I hit the light switch in an instant.

That’s when time froze. The world around me stopped, and shocked gasp that escaped my throat went on for an eternity. There she was, my beautiful Julie, on the kitchen floor in a pool of her own blood.

The suffocating smell of it reached my nose. I felt its warm stickiness between my feet. I heard the milk jug I’d been carrying hitting the floor.

And I saw the figure dressed in all black that ran into me before it rushed out the front door.

When this long second finally came to an end, I was with her. I called out her name and looked for a reaction. But the only thing was the blood still gushing from the two deep stabs in her abdomen.

Why didn’t I leave work early? Why did I have to get that stupid milk? And why had we fought over something so goddamn meaningless?

With a shivering hand, I reached out for her. The moment I touched her, I felt an almost physical sensation that made me jerk upright.

Images invaded my mind, started pouring in like an endless torrent.

Images of this very same moment. Me standing over her lifeless body in the kitchen. Then other, different ones. Julie’s lifeless body in the passenger seat of my car after an accident. I saw her suffocating, burning to death, run over by a car. So many horrible visions of her death.

No, I realized, not visions, memories. There were dozens of them, hundreds.

It was an endless ocean consisting of nothing but pain and regret.

I fell to the ground into her coagulating blood and wept because my wife had died. Because my wife had died again.

It was only then that I felt the stinging pain on the left side of my body.

I should’ve been surprised about the knife stuck below my ribs, but I wasn’t. This was just how it had happened so many other times before.

I knew I should call for help. There was still time. I took out my phone, but then I remembered the dream from this morning. The blazing white, the question, the options, and I realized I’d had it so many times before, countless times.

And I realized too, that there was another option. Dying right here next to Julie.

Because then, I’d go back to that place and I’d get another chance of saving her.

Yet, I had to change things. There was something I hadn’t done before. My fingers moved over the phone almost by muscle memory as I typed this story out. It wasn’t there. I hadn’t done this before, had I?. Maybe, just maybe, this would help and make me remember when I’d wake up again.

My shirt was wet and sticky. My body was cold, and my vision was starting to get blurry.

But now, as my finger hovered over the post button, I can’t help but chuckle. Of course. Oh, what a farce this all is.

Lying here, dying next to Julie, I remembered. I’ve been posting this same exact story every single day.

It doesn’t matter anymore. It won’t be long. Soon I’ll be back there.

And I know, without a doubt, that I’ll pick the same option did so many times before.

Yes.

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The Door

A day ago, reality took a nosedive. Something utterly mundane, but at the same time inexplicable, changed my life and my girlfriend Sueโ€™s forever.

It was a door.

Iโ€™d finished up work for the day, and when I made it home, I was surprised to find Sue already back from her trip.

Sheโ€™d been away for a few days, revisiting her home town and catching up with a couple of old friends. After her fatherโ€™s death, reminiscing about old times had become a big part of her life.

โ€œBabe, youโ€™re already back? Holy shit, I missed you! Why didnโ€™t you tell me anything? Iโ€™d have picked you up at the-โ€œ

โ€œYouโ€™re really funny, Mike, you know that?โ€

โ€œWhat do you mean?โ€

โ€œHow did you even have the time to do that?โ€

โ€œWait, whatโ€™s wrong? What are you talking about?โ€

โ€œOh, come on, donโ€™t play dumb with me,โ€ she said, followed by a short, nervous laugh.

โ€œAll right, Sue, what are you talking about?โ€

I could see how she eyed me carefully, looking for a reaction. When she didnโ€™t get one, I saw how a mixture of fear and confusion contorted her face.

โ€œThat door! You put it there, right?โ€

โ€œWhat door? I donโ€™t know what you-โ€œ

Without even waiting for me to finish, she grabbed my arm and pulled me from the living room and into the hallway.

Thatโ€™s when I saw it: a wooden door on the wall of our hallway where no door should be.

I blinked, closed my eyes, and looked again. It was still there.

โ€œCome on, Mike, tell me you did this!โ€

Her eyes pleaded with me, waiting to reveal Iโ€™d installed it while she was gone. Instead, I just stared at her, speechless.

โ€œWhat the hell?โ€ I finally said.

Sue didnโ€™t say a thing. She just kept staring at me.

โ€œSeriously, Iโ€™ve got no idea what this is. How in the hell is something-โ€œ

โ€œMike, please!โ€ she cut me off. โ€œTell me you did this for whatever stupid reason!โ€

I shook my head.

โ€œNo, first time Iโ€™ve seen the damn thing myself. It wasnโ€™t here when I left for work this morning.โ€

We both turned to stare at it. Itโ€™s strange how something as mundane and dull as a plain wooden door can send pangs of fear and disbelief through your body.

After what felt like minutes, I started down the hallway to approach it. It looked like any other door in our apartment. Nothing was strange about it; no ornate engravings, no rich details, no words of warning. Just plain wood. Well, apart from the fact that it came out of nowhere, that is.

Once I stood in front of it, I tapped against it with my finger. It felt real enough.

When I reached for the handle, Sue pulled me back. Her eyes were wide with fear.

โ€œDonโ€™t you dare, Mike!โ€ she exclaimed. โ€œWeโ€™ve got no idea what this is or where it came from, and youโ€™re just going to open it?โ€

I shrugged.

โ€œWell, it should lead to Darenโ€™s place, shouldnโ€™t it? I mean, his apartment is on the other side of the wall, so…โ€

My voice trailed off, but Sue was serious in an instant.

โ€œYou think he did this? Why? And, I mean… how?โ€

I shrugged again and made my way to the front door.

Daren, our next-door neighbor, was an older man, a typical no-bullshit blue collar type.

Iโ€™d barely rang the doorbell when he opened, staring me down.

โ€œHey Daren, sorry to bother you, but did you notice anything strange at your place?โ€

For a few seconds, the man just continued to look at me.

โ€œLike what?โ€ was all he asked.

I opened my mouth, but then closed it again.

โ€œTo be honest, I donโ€™t even know how to explain,โ€ I answered.

A minute later, Daren stood right next to me in the middle of our hallway.

โ€œNow, whatโ€™s this all about? Iโ€™ve got no clue why youโ€™d drag me-โ€œ

โ€œThat door. You see it, right?โ€

โ€œWell, itโ€™s a door,โ€ he said matter-of-factly.

In as few words as possible, and half-rambling, I explained what was going on.

โ€œAnd youโ€™re telling me youโ€™ve got no idea where it came from? If this is your idea of a joke, then-โ€œ

โ€œNo, itโ€™s not. It was just there, and-โ€œ

โ€œShouldnโ€™t it lead to your apartment?โ€ Sue cut in.

Daren turned to her, frowning.

โ€œWhat the hell kind of stupid prank is this?โ€ he muttered before he stormed back to his place.

As he did, he cursed under his breath about people โ€˜installing random doors.โ€™

Soon after, we heard a low thumping from behind the door. It was soon followed by a quiet, barely audible voice calling out to us. Sue cringed back and rushed from the hallway.

A minute later, Daren returned.

โ€œYou heard any of that?โ€

โ€œWait, that was you?โ€ Sue demanded.

โ€œSure was. Who else do you think-?โ€

โ€œWhat?! I thought-โ€œ

โ€œDaren,โ€ I cut off Sueโ€™s outburst. โ€œWas there a door on your wall, too?โ€

โ€œNothing. Just a wall like it should be. I still donโ€™t understand any of this. You sure itโ€™s not just a damned closet? I mean, why donโ€™t we just open it and see whatโ€™s behind? Probably just the damned wall, anyway.โ€

โ€œNo,โ€ Sue called out, crossing her arms in front of her body.

Her eyes rested on me. She was shaking, begging me to agree with her. Finally, I sighed.

โ€œSorry, Sue, Darenโ€™s right. Maybe itโ€™s just a plain old door with nothing but bricks and mortar behind.โ€

โ€œMike, you canโ€™t be serious! How in the hell-โ€œ

โ€œYes, Sue, I am serious. Fuck, Iโ€™m as worried and scared as you are, but, I donโ€™t know, maybe itโ€™s a prank or something?โ€

โ€œAnd by who? The renting company? Some crazed carpenter going around, installing random doors?โ€

I almost laughed, but then I saw just how angry she was.

โ€œSorry, babe, but what do you want us to do? Put a wardrobe in front of it and pretend it doesnโ€™t exist?โ€

โ€œYeah, maybe thatโ€™s exactly what we should do! We donโ€™t know what this is or… what might be behind it!โ€

โ€œItโ€™s a damned door, thatโ€™s what it is,โ€ Daren cut in, annoyed at our argument.

โ€œYou know, Daren, why donโ€™t you-โ€œ

Before she could finish her sentence, I too had gotten fed up. I reached out for the door handle.

Then I took a deep breath, put it down, and carefully pulled open the door.

Sue shrieked in surprise while Daren stood next to me, undeterred.

For a second, I expected something to happen. I didnโ€™t know what, but I was prepared for almost anything.

Instead, nothing happened at all. What lay behind was an ordinary room. It was small, square-shaped, and comprised nothing but white walls and a white wooden floor. Other than that, it was completely empty; no furniture, and no evil entities.

How was there a room here? I should look right into Darenโ€™s apartment, and this room here shouldnโ€™t exist. There was just no way.

โ€œYou see it, too, right Daren?โ€ I asked.

The man shuffled around awkwardly, and I could see the confused expression on his face. He opened his mouth, then closed it again before he gave me a nod.

โ€œItโ€™s empty,โ€ I called out to Sue.

โ€œGreat, now will you please shut it again?โ€

For a moment, I considered stepping inside, but then I did as she told me. Sue was right. This was not normal, not at all. A door on a wall was one thing, even if it came out of nowhere. A room that couldnโ€™t possibly exist; that was a whole different story.

โ€œI think I better get going,โ€ Daren mumbled.

I gave him a nod and thanked him for coming over, but he didnโ€™t react, and fled from the apartment, cursing under his breath about the โ€˜damned jokeโ€™ weโ€™d just played on him.

At this point, we shouldโ€™ve left the apartment. Hell, we shouldโ€™ve left the moment weโ€™d found that freaking door.

Yet we didnโ€™t. Instead, I did precisely what Sue had told me. I pushed our wardrobe in front of it and pretended it didnโ€™t exist.

I donโ€™t know how we couldโ€™ve stayed so calm. The whole situation was just too absurd, too outlandish for our brains to comprehend. It was just a door, after all. How could it be dangerous?

Instead of leaving, we retreated to the living room. At first, we settled down on the couch, but the strange doorโ€™s presence was oppressive, almost tangible, like something alien lurking nearby, just waiting for… something. Even worse, from where we set, we could still see the giant wardrobe via the open doorway, and just behind it, the doorโ€™s edges.

Eventually, I couldnโ€™t take it anymore, and pushed the couch further back, to a point where we shouldnโ€™t be able to see it, but it didnโ€™t matter. Somehow, it was still there, almost as if the dimensions of the hallway were shifting around it, as if the door was moving, following us. It was never truly hidden by the wardrobe, always a faint, looming presence.

Before long, we put on a movie on Netflix, but neither of us could focus on the screen, and our eyes constantly darted back to the hallway.

In the end, exhausted from the dayโ€™s strange events, we drifted off into an uneasy sleep.

Suddenly, Sue jerked upright, waking me. Her eyes were wide, her face a mask of confusion, her head slightly tilted, as though straining to hear something.

โ€œSue? Whatโ€™s up? Bad dreams?โ€

She didnโ€™t answer, and before I could stop her, she jumped off the couch and bolted toward the hallway.

โ€œSue?โ€ I called after her.

The moment Iโ€™d made it into the hallway, I heard the sounds of something heavy being moved. It was Sue, and she was pushing aside the wardrobe Iโ€™d placed in front of the strange door.

She ripped it open, gasping as she slapped a hand over her mouth. Yet I couldnโ€™t see a thing. All I could make out was a faintly glowing light, both inviting and ominous.

โ€œSue, whatโ€™s going on? What are you-?โ€

My voice trailed off when I noticed the state she was in. Her eyes were wide, and she was frozen in shock. Tears were streaming down her cheeks.

โ€œBabe, what-?โ€

โ€œItโ€™s Dad,โ€ she said, matter-of-factly. โ€œHeโ€™s here. I heard him call out to me, and… My god, Mike, heโ€™s right here!โ€

I stared at her and the open door next to her in bewilderment, not able to comprehend what she was saying. The hairs on my arms stood up, and a strange feeling got hold of me. No, this was wrong. This wasnโ€™t normal. It was dangerous, a voice inside my head screamed at me.

In a few quick steps, I closed the distance between us. I stared at the door, the door she was still holding open, a door that now looked markedly different, almost pristine. For a moment, I felt something, a distant feeling. It was strangely warm, but at the same time, icy cold, like an invisible barrier.

I tried to step forward, but when the icy feeling intensified, I pulled Sue from the door. It fell shut the moment Sue let go of the handle, and an expression of misery came over her face.

โ€œNo, Dadโ€™s-โ€œ she said, but broke up when she recognized me.

โ€œMike, howโ€™s any of this even possible?โ€

That was it. I had no clue what was going on, but this was enough. I got my wallet, keys, and told Sue we had to get out of this place. She nodded, but the tears were still streaming down her cheeks.

โ€œI swear, he was there, and he was alive! Behind that door!โ€ Sue explained once more.

I didnโ€™t say a word. I didnโ€™t know what I could even say to something like that.

It was impossible, completely and utterly absurd, but so was a door appearing out of nowhere. My hands were clutching onto the steering wheel as I drove on in silence.

โ€œWhy donโ€™t you say anything!?โ€ Sue screamed at me.

โ€œAnd what do you want me to say?!โ€

At that, she was quiet, and just stared out the window until we pulled up at a hotel not too far from our apartment.

I explained to the young receptionist that we needed a room for the night. Within minutes, Sue and I ended up in a hotel room much too small and much too expensive.

Sue was distant, lost in thought. I kissed her gently.

โ€œSue, Iโ€™m sorry, but whatever it was, itโ€™s not real. Your fatherโ€™s dead. Thereโ€™s no way he couldโ€™ve been in that room. Whoever, or whatever, it was-โ€œ

โ€œAnd how can you be so sure? How do you know it wasnโ€™t him?โ€

She started crying again, her small body quivering in my arms.

โ€œDammit Mike, I know heโ€™s gone, I know… but seeing him again, hearing his voice… I just wanted to talk to him, to tell him how much I loved him.โ€

โ€œYeah, I know, Sue, I know.โ€

I held her in my arms while she sobbed quietly.

Sue and her father had been close, very close. Her mother had died young, when Sue was still a little girl. Her father was heartbroken, of course, but he gave his all to take care of his daughter. Sue loved the man more than anything.

Her father never told her about the cancer. Sue and I had just moved into the city, starting our life together. I guess the old man just didnโ€™t want his daughter to worry.

She only found out months later when she was informed about his death.

Sue broke down that day. There was pain, there was regret, and worst of all, she never go to tell him how much she loved him.

That day, a part of her soul was irrevocably broken; a wound so deep it could never truly be healed.

Whatever this damned room was, whatever sheโ€™d seen in there tonight, had torn at it once more, and was now festering again.

As I held onto her, I hated myself for the part Iโ€™d played in all this. If only weโ€™d left the place earlier.

An hour later, Sue finally settled down and fell asleep. As she lay there, quietly breathing, cradled up in my arms, I opened my laptop, trying to find anything about weird doors that appeared out of nowhere.

The results were less than satisfactory.

Half were snippets from video games or fictional horror stories shared online. The rest were esoteric articles about so-called dream doors and portals of the mind.

Most rambled on about hypnosis and lucid dreaming, claiming these doors allowed people to confront their fears, relive memories, or unlock hidden parts of their psyche.

I skimmed one article about mental doors unlocking buried memories, but it offered nothing about a physical door appearing out of nowhere. Another described a person accessing different parts of their life through dreams, but it was all just… dreams.

Iโ€™d been there when Sue stood in front of that door, had seen her tears, heard her words.

It was maddening. Everything was so close, and yet none of it fit. This wasnโ€™t a dream or a trick of the mind, it was freaking real!

I slammed the laptop shut in frustration. Iโ€™d found nothing. Only bizarre theories that didnโ€™t explain a damned thing.

I yawned, rubbed my face, and when I checked the clock, I realized Iโ€™d been at this mad search for hours.

Eventually, I just settled down next to Sue, wrapping my arms around her as if to shield her from any additional harm.

When morning came, I was alone in bed.

I called Sueโ€™s name, checked the bathroom, but found no trace of her.

A creeping panic slowly crawled into my mind. Oh god, Sue, donโ€™t tell me you went back!

Panic turned to realization when I saw my car keys were gone.

I never knew what a mixture of adrenaline and panic could do to a human body. The hotel wasnโ€™t far, twenty minutes on foot at the most, but I made it in half of that.

The whole time, I clutched onto my phone, calling Sue over and over again. I screamed at the ringing phone, at the voicemail that answered, but I never reached her.

The moment I entered the apartment, I was greeted by deep, utter silence. You never realize how quiet a place can be until you truly listen.

โ€œSue?โ€ I called out, her name reverberating through the empty apartment.

No answer. Only the same suffocating silence. I went from room to room, but she was nowhere to be found.

Finally, I tried her phone again. Her happy ringtone cut through the silence, banishing it.

For me, however, there was nothing happy about it. I found it laying in the middle of the hallway.

My eyes darted to the wardrobe, but the door itself was gone. My eyes darted around left and right, up and down the hallway, but all I saw was a blank wall.

I stumbled forward, staring at the place where the door had been, and began frantically tearing at the wallpaper. It had to be there, just hidden! It had to be!

I tore and clawed at the wallpaper until the entire wall was laid bare, but there was nothing, just brick and mortar. Then, for a few mad minutes, I pounded against it, screaming for the damned door, for the room. For Sue. I kept it up until my fists were swollen and my fingers an almost useless, bloodied mess.

Finally, my legs gave out, and I slumped to the floor, a shaking, sobbing mess. I donโ€™t know for how long I sat there.

At some point, Daren showed up, first cursing at the ruckus Iโ€™d caused, then asking if I was all right.

I didnโ€™t respond.

By now, itโ€™s already evening, and I still here, still staring at the bare wall.

All I can do is wait.

Maybe it will come back. Maybe it wonโ€™t. I donโ€™t know. But what else is there for me now?

The wound inside my heart is still fresh, raw, and festering, always festering the longer Sue is gone. And all I can do is to give into these feelings, the sadness, the despair, the hope, that somehow, it is enough to bring her back.

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When a Life Becomes Background Noise

There’s something about background noise. If it goes on for long enough, our mind will get used to it and block it out.

Don’t believe me? Go to a busy Starbucks and spend a few hours there studying or reading. At first, you might be annoyed by all the noise, but after the first hour, you won’t even realize it’s there anymore.

It was the same with the scratching coming from the apartment next door. After a while, I’d merely blocked it out.

What I’d never been able to block out was the person living there, old Mr. Meier. He was one of the most unpleasant and nastiest people I ever met.

He seemed perpetually angry. It didn’t matter if kids were playing nearby or an old couple walking past his apartment. He’d be out on his balcony in an instant screaming and yelling at them. You could even see the saliva flying from his trembling mouth.

For what it’s worth though, I couldn’t help but be impressed by the old man’s vitality. At times he’d scream and yell at people for hours on end. Maybe this misanthropy was all heโ€™d left? I’d heard that his wife had long died and he’d no other relatives.

Since I moved into my apartment, I’d ran into the old man countless times. The first time will always stay on my mind though. I was on the way to the grocery store, and he walked into my direction. For only a moment our eyes met, but that was enough to get him going. He asked me what I was looking at and when I didn’t answer, he told me to get the hell out of his way before he’d beat the living shit out of me with his cane. I stepped aside and looked after him utterly dumbfounded. At the time I had no clue what was going on with the old man.

After a while I came to learn that this was his normal for him.

To be honest, I was never afraid of the old man. No, I was mostly amused by his antics.

After a while, it even felt as if old Mr. Meier and I started bonding a bit. At least in the way that he called me a bloody cocksucker when I greeted him in the morning.

It must’ve been last summer when something curious happened. One morning I walked past his balcony, and the old man wasn’t there. After a few days I started to get worried, and once a week was over, I thought the worst had happened. I’d never seen an ambulance or heard anything from the neighbors however. Could it be that everyone ignored it?

After another week I was proven all wrong. One day I saw the old man leaving his apartment. I almost couldn’t trust my eyes. He looked completely different. Mr. Meier hadn’t been a fat man, but he used to be stout. Now he was thin, haggard even and his skin was almost translucent. I knew something was wrong as he dragged himself past me without so much as attempting one of his usual insults.

As the days went by the old manโ€™s condition started to improve. Week after week his cloth filled out again, and before I knew what had happened, he was back to normal. Even his skin got his old color back, and soon enough he walked with more vitality than ever before. It was nothing short of miraculous.

Even though the old man was back to his old self, one thing had indeed changed. He didn’t scream at people anymore. Instead, he ignored them, almost as if he’d decided to spend his remaining days in solitude. The only thing I could still hear from his place was the scratching I’d mentioned before.

It seemed to be there almost always. It didn’t matter if I made coffee in the morning or watched a movie on Netflix. The low, quiet sound of something scratching against the wall seemed to be ubiquitous. It was really creepy, but after a while my mind blocked it out. Iโ€™d completely forgotten about it until last weekend.

I was sitting in front of my computer, watching one of the stupid new shows on Netflix. Suddenly I heard a sound from the wall I shared with Mr. Meier’s apartment. When I turned around, I saw something poking through the wallpaper. At first, I thought it was a nail, but no, it was a… spoon?

Right at that moment, the scratching behind the wall started with renewed intensity. The spoon poked through the wallpaper again and again before a brick was pushed forward. It crashed to the floor, leaving a ragged hole in the wallpaper. At first, it was only one, but then more and more bricks clattered down. I watched the surreal event in a sort of trance, almost unsure if it was real. Finally, I saw a pair of haggard, dirty hands reach through the small hole. They broke apart more and more of the wall before a man started to crawl headfirst into my apartment.

I screamed up in terror and fled outside. In an instant, I called the police and told them what had happened. They were confused by what I told them, to say the least, but still agreed to send someone over.

Once they were here, I followed them back into my apartment. In there we found the body of a dirty old man lying on my living room floor. One of his hands was still closed around a metal spoon. Only now did I recognize him as Mr. Meier.

An ambulance was called, but it was clear that the old man had overexerted himself and died due to a heart attack. When the police asked me why heโ€™d do something like this, all I could answer was that I had no idea.

It shouldn’t remain the only mystery in this case.

When the police checked out the apartment next door, they found that most of it consisted of a sort of holding cell. It was completely sealed off except for a small hatch. In it they found a tray of half-eaten food. The hatch was much too small for a person to get through, however.

Other than that there was no way into or out of the room. At least until the old man had created one himself.

The walls of the room were covered entirely in insane markings and writings. Some were crosses or religious symbols, yet others were depictions of demons and unnamed horrors. Even the floor was covered in the same, insane markings. Some of them were obviously scratched into the surface, others were written in blood or even feces. It was the work of a madman.

The police questioned many of the other inhabitants as well as me. Our stories were all the same though. The old man had lived all by himself, and no one had ever visited him.

The last question they asked me was about the scratching, but I couldnโ€™t tell them much about it.

After all, my mind had blocked it out because it was nothing but background noise.

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I Still Hope My Friend Is Just Playing a Trick on Me

Do you know that strange feeling when something happens that makes no sense? Iโ€™m sure most of you can recall moments like that.

It usually happens for just a brief moment before we remember the one piece of the puzzle that explains it all.

Iโ€™ve been searching for this one piece this entire evening.

Last night was Friday.

On Friday evening I usually hang out with my best friend, Frederick. Neither of us is the party or bar type anymore. Instead, we hang out at his place, have a few beers, and watch a movie or two.

Yesterday was the same. When Iโ€™d made it home, it was almost three in the morning and I was pleasantly buzzed.

The next morning I was woken up by the loud notification sound of my phone.

โ€œFreaking hell,โ€ I cursed. Iโ€™d forgotten to put the damn thing on mute again.

When I checked it I saw that Iโ€™d gotten a WhatsApp message from Sue, Frederickโ€™s girlfriend. Sheโ€™d sent me a picture of the two of them, standing in front of a well-known sightseeing attraction in her town.

I stared at it for a moment before I asked her why sheโ€™d send me a picture like that at nine-thirty on Saturday morning.

As I was preparing myself a strong cup of coffee, her reply arrived. She told me the two of them had just been there and she thought it was a cute picture.

I reread the message to make sure I hadnโ€™t misread it.

It made no sense. The two of them were in a long-distance relationship and Sue lived at the other end of the country. How the hell could Frederick be there right now?

When I told her to cut the joke, she asked me what I meant. I sighed, this was stupid. I sent Frederick a quick text, telling him that Sue was trying to play a trick on me. His reply was another picture of the two of them in front of a different building.

I frowned at it and put the phone away. I was not in the mood for their silly shenanigans, not as hungover as I was.

In the early afternoon, another message arrived. This one was a brief video clip from Frederick. I prepared myself for another silly clip of him farting or something equally juvenile and pressed play. Instead, it was a short video of him and Sue in front of a small stage.

Suddenly I felt goosebumps all over my arm. I read the name โ€˜DarkBeatzโ€™ in bright letters behind them. DarkBeatz was the name of a small Indy festival in Sueโ€™s town. I remembered Frederick talking about going there with Sue a while ago.

I instantly looked it up online and everything checked out.

โ€˜DarkBeatz โ€“ 10.03.2018โ€™ the website said. That was today!

I called Frederick right away.

โ€œWhen did you even get there?โ€

โ€œYesterday. By train, as always,โ€ he answered a little confused about the audible distress in my voice.

โ€œWhen did you even leave? At four in the morning? Howโ€™d you even be there by now?โ€

โ€œWhat are you talking about? Whyโ€™d I leave at four in the morning? I left right after work yesterday afternoon.โ€

โ€œStop shitting me, man! We hung out last night!โ€

โ€œYeah, sure we did.โ€

โ€œNo, but we hung out together as always and-โ€œ

โ€œSorry, but I got no time for your jokes right now,โ€ he cut me off laughing. โ€œThe first act is about to start, so Iโ€™ll talk to you later.โ€

With that, he hung up.

As I sat there, staring at my phone I had no clue what was going on. This had to be a stupid joke. He was fucking with me. There was no other explanation.

I had to go grocery shopping anyway, so I might as well visit him and call him out on his bullshit. Funny, I thought, really fucking funny Frederick.

When I arrived I rang the doorbell again and again but got no answer. I cursed to myself, got out my phone, and wrote him a quick message.

โ€˜Hey man, open the door, all right? You got me this time, I admit it.โ€™

His reply was nothing but a question mark.

โ€˜Just open the damned door, I know youโ€™re home!โ€™

This time I got no reply. I cursed and rang the doorbell a few more times only to be stopped by a neighbor who screamed at me from her window.

I mumbled an apology and called Frederick again. On the third try, he finally answered. Loud electronic music was playing in the background and I could barely make out what he was saying.

โ€œYo, Fred, turn down the music! I canโ€™t hear a damn thing!โ€

I heard him curse at the phone before he seemed to be walking somewhere else.

โ€œThe fuckโ€™s your problem?!โ€

โ€œDude, come on, turn of the stupid music and open the door, this is not funny anymore.โ€

โ€œI have no idea what youโ€™re talking about. I. Am. With. Sue.โ€

And to prove it he handed her the phone.

โ€œHey, Andy, Sue here, whatโ€™s up?โ€

It was Sue and I could hear her voice loud and clear.

โ€œWait, how are you-โ€œ I started, but sheโ€™d already handed the phone back to Frederick.

โ€œAnything else, or can I hang up now?โ€

โ€œWait! If youโ€™re at Sueโ€™s town,โ€ I stammered, โ€œthen how the hell were we drinking together last night?โ€

โ€œWhat the hell are you even saying?โ€

โ€œWe were at your place last night, drinking like usual and we watched this movie together, Cold Weather.โ€

โ€œOkay man, not funny.โ€

โ€œIโ€™m not fucking joking with you Fred! We were both at your place and you-โ€œ

โ€œDude stop. Really. It was funny for a while, but not anymore. Youโ€™re starting to creep me out. I just want to have a good time at the festival with Sue, all right?โ€

With that, he hung up.

I felt the strength drain from my body. A strange and eerie feeling washed over me. Was he not playing a trick on me? But then howโ€ฆ?

While I was at the supermarket, I tried to come up with an explanation for it all, but there was no other way. He had to be playing a trick on me!

The more I thought about it on my way back home, the surer I was. Hell, maybe Sue had decided to visit Frederick, and together the two tried to fuck with me for some reason.

I could imagine them, sitting at Frederickโ€™s place, and having a good laugh at my expense. Hell, maybe the stupid video clip was from last yearโ€™s DarkBeatz.

Iโ€™d had it. The moment I was home I put my groceries away and knew what I had to do.

Frederick and I had a spare key at each otherโ€™s apartments. Itโ€™s in case we lock ourselves out and so we donโ€™t have to call our landlord or even a key service.

With this key in my pocket and fuming, I made my way back to his place. It had to be one of his ridiculous jokes and heโ€™d kept it up all day.

As I went downstairs and unlocked the door to his apartment, I was prepared to hear his and Sueโ€™s laughter. Instead, the place was dead quiet.

I barged into the living room, but there was no one there. It was the same for the kitchen, the bedroom, and even his bathroom. Finally, I yelled out his and Sueโ€™s name.

In sheer frustration and anger, I sent the WhatsApp message โ€˜Dude come out!โ€™ and attached a picture of myself in his living room to it.

I got a call right away.

โ€œAre you fucking kidding me? Are you seriously at my place right now?โ€

โ€œDude, I know you and Sue are hiding somewhere, come out, all right? You got me real good this time. Here, I even laugh: haha.โ€

โ€œYouโ€™re really there, arenโ€™t you? Are you for fucking real?โ€

I could hear Sue in the background asking what was going on.

While I heard him tell her I was at his place for โ€˜some stupid reason,โ€™ I noticed a handful of empty beer bottles on his couch table.

โ€œHey Fred, are those bottles yours?โ€ I asked him before he could give me another handful.

โ€œWhat bottles?โ€

I sent him a picture of the couch table.

Hereโ€™s the thing about Frederick. Heโ€™s suffering from a severe case of OCD. Doesnโ€™t matter how drunk he is or how late it is, he always cleans up his place. Empty bottles, glasses, snacks, he puts it all away. He once told me he canโ€™t fall asleep otherwise.

โ€œI told you,โ€ I explained, โ€œweโ€™ve been drinking together yesterday. Those bottles are-โ€œ

โ€œFucking stop, okay? And why the fuck are you hanging out and drink at my place when Iโ€™m not around? You know those keys were for-โ€œ

โ€œFred, listen to me, I told you, you were there as well,โ€ I retorted. โ€œIโ€™ve got no idea how-โ€œ

I didnโ€™t get the chance to even finish the sentence. Heโ€™d hung up and when I tried to call him again, it went straight to voicemail.

His reaction was way too real for this to be a joke. Still, I waited desperately for him to appear and to tell me heโ€™d got me. I waited and waited and waited, but the apartment stayed dead quiet.

I went over to the empty beer bottles and checked the brand. It was the same one Iโ€™d drank last evening, with Frederick sitting right beside me.

Eventually, I went back home, shaken and utterly confused.

If Frederick really wasnโ€™t playing a trick on me, and if he went to visit Sue, then what happened on Friday evening? Those empty bottles prove that someone was there, that I was there. If Frederick was on the train at the time though, then who have I been drinking with?

Iโ€™m sitting here, trying to find that one missing piece of the puzzle that could convince me that this is all a trick.

But, this time I canโ€™t find it.

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The Disappearing Alley

I always thought the world was a place grounded in logic. The supernatural, the surreal; these things only exist in fiction.

Two months ago, all that changed.

Iโ€™d recently moved into a new apartment. It was small and cramped, in one of the cityโ€™s social housing complexes at the edge of town. Guess itโ€™s the only place a former junkie such as me can hope for. And yet, I was content. At thirty-four years old, and after months of rehab, I was ready for a fresh start. Apart from mine, only two other apartments were occupied. One by a friendly old couple, the other by a group of young people. They might have been students, they might have been unemployed. Iโ€™d heard them a few times during the night, but as long as they didnโ€™t cause me any other trouble, I didnโ€™t care.

Everything about this new life started to go wrong a few weeks after Iโ€™d moved in, and it was all related to the building next door. It was a sprawling old mansion, with countless wings and walls so high they towered over every other building in the area. Its immense size was almost unfathomable, but decades of neglect had turned it into a dilapidated ruin, void of any signs of life.

That morning, something felt different. While I waited for my coffee, I took a glance out my living room window. Usually, All I saw were the mansionโ€™s walls, a single dirty window veiled by heavy, musty curtains, and the narrow, constricted alley below. But this time, I couldโ€™ve sworn the mansionโ€™s wall was closer. Close enough to make out details I never noticed before: the texture of the satin curtains, the filth on the window, the flaking plaster. Then I shook my head.

โ€œFocus, Linda. Coffee first.โ€

A few days later, I couldnโ€™t blame it on a lack of coffee anymore.

Every morning, I sat down to write in my journal. It was a little ritual Iโ€™d picked up in rehab. The first thing you do is jot down your expectations for the day. Positive reinforcement, they called it, and a way to get the gears in your head turning. After the first few sentences, I noticed just how dark it was. Normally, a few rays of sunshine would reach me through the living room window. I stepped up to it, expecting to see a cloudy sky, but when I looked outside, I could see the sun as clearly as always. It just didnโ€™t reach the small alley anymore. While I wondered about it, and scanned the alley below, I couldnโ€™t help but think it had shrunk in size.

I told myself I was being ridiculous, and that my imagination was playing a trick on me. A moment later, I opened the window and looked up and down the alley. No doubt about it, it had been much wider before.

Unnerved, and unsure what to make of it, I put on some clothes and went down the hallway to the old coupleโ€™s apartment. Maybe theyโ€™d noticed it too and could tell me what the hell was going on. After a few quick knocks, a tiny old lady, still wearing her nightgown, opened the door.

โ€œGood morning, dear,โ€ she greeted me. โ€œWhat brings you here so early in the morning?โ€

I was embarrassed, realizing I mustโ€™ve woken her up.

โ€œOh, eh, sorry,โ€ I started.

I tried to find a way to ask the question on my mind, but I couldnโ€™t very well ask her if the alley outside had gotten smaller. Instead, I opted for a safer option.

โ€œI was just wondering, did you or your husband notice anything strange last night? Outside in the alley?โ€

She eyed me curiously for a moment before she shook her head.

โ€œIn the alley, you say? Oh, Iโ€™m afraid not. We keep that window closed. Werner even put our wardrobe right in front of it. โ€˜No reason to stare at those ghastly old walls,โ€™ he always says.โ€

I gave her a nervous laugh before I agreed and apologized for the early disturbance.

โ€œGuess thereโ€™s no helping it,โ€ I said to myself, sighing, and made my way down the stairs to the young peopleโ€™s apartment.

I knocked on the door once, then twice more before a tired-looking redhead with thick glasses opened the door.

โ€œMorning,โ€ she mumbled, annoyed, staring at me with half-open, puffy eyes.

โ€œSorry to bother you. I was wondering if you know anything about the mansion next door.โ€

โ€œWhy donโ€™t you ask the people living over there?โ€

Her tone of voice had changed noticeably. The first thing that came to my mind was โ€˜what a freaking bitch,โ€™ but I bit my tongue not to say it out loud.

โ€œWell, I think something strange is going on and-โ€œ

Right at that moment, she slammed the door in my face.

โ€œBitch!โ€ I cursed.

I raised my hand and was about to pound against the door, but then I stopped.

โ€œCalm down, Linda. You donโ€™t want to be known as the crazy chick again.โ€

A moment later, I was back in my apartment. What if it was all on my mind? God knows my brain could be hazy. I mean, how the hell was an alley supposed to shrink?

While I got ready for work, I did my best to ignore the living room window. As I went on my way, I wondered if the sunlight had ever truly shone into my living room. And yet, when I walked past the alley, I couldnโ€™t help but take another look. My doubts were back instantly. It really had been wider before, hadnโ€™t it? I snapped a picture before I continued on my way.

โ€œJust to be sure it doesnโ€™t shrink again,โ€ I told myself, but couldnโ€™t help but shake my head. โ€œJesus, Linda, whatโ€™s the matter with you?โ€

Instead of pondering on it, I kept the blinds closed and had soon forgotten about the entire thing.

Two weeks later, the redhead from below, and one of the guys living with her, appeared at my door. For a moment, she looked away, not able to face me.

โ€œHey there,โ€ she eventually said with an awkward smile on her face.

Well, look who can be friendly if she wants to.

โ€œHello,โ€ I replied.

โ€œA while ago, you asked me about the mansion next door, right? What was that all about?โ€

I was reluctant to tell her what I thought Iโ€™d seen.

โ€œI heard something at night. Why?โ€

She probed me, clearly unsure about what to say. At that moment, the guy next to her approached me. He was a fidgety, lanky fellow whoโ€™d been shuffling around behind her the entire time.

โ€œHi, there, Iโ€™m Phil.โ€

He reached out a hand, and after an awkward handshake, he continued.

โ€œWe saw something, and we were wondering if you did, too.โ€

โ€œLike what?โ€

He was as wary as the redhead.

โ€œWell, our friend heard noises out there, too, but he also said the alley had gotten… smaller?โ€

I couldnโ€™t say anything. I expected them to laugh, and to reveal it was all an elaborate joke. The laughter never came. Were they actually serious?

โ€œWhat do you mean by that?โ€

โ€œYou have to talk to Will about that,โ€ the redhead cut in. โ€œHeโ€™s the one who noticed it. I thought you might know something, since you asked me about the mansion before. Iโ€™m Jen, by the way. Sorry about the other time.โ€

A minute later, I found myself in their apartment. Five people were living here altogether. Jen was the only girl, and I didnโ€™t know how to feel about that. She quickly introduced me to the three  guys in the room. One was Will, who sheโ€™d mentioned before, the other two were Steve and Jay.

While we talked, I learned Will had rented the place and moved in about a month before I did. The rest were friends who just crashed here. The place was a total dump, and I could tell those guys definitely werenโ€™t students.

โ€œThought it was a stray at first, you know?โ€ he began rambling, half-stumbling over his words. โ€œBut the noise didnโ€™t stop. The tapping against the window, I mean. So I checked it out. Was the first time in, well, forever since I even opened the blinds. First thing I see is a damned window, and itโ€™s really freaking close.โ€

โ€œWhat do you mean by close?โ€ I asked, still playing it safe.

โ€œHe thinks the freaking thingโ€™s closer than before, lady,โ€ the one named Jay cut in, shaking his head.

Asshole, I thought, as he sat there with a smug smile on his face.

โ€œWell, yeah, that,โ€ Will continued. โ€œDamned thingโ€™s so close now, I can almost touch it if I lean outside.โ€

He made a gesture, stretching out his arm to demonstrate.

โ€œWasnโ€™t like this before. Was probably more than a meter away, if it even was there at all.โ€

โ€œIf it was there at all…?โ€

He didnโ€™t answer me. Instead, he began rubbing his puffy eyes, lost in thought. I made a mental note that this guy was definitely a pothead.

โ€œOh yeah,โ€ he suddenly continued, snapping out of whatever trance heโ€™d fallen into. โ€œThere was this figure behind the curtains, too. Vanished the moment I opened the window. Shit was creepy, I tell you.โ€

I nodded.

โ€œTo be honest, I noticed the same thing about the alley,โ€ I finally admitted.

For a moment, my eyes wandered over the group, once again waiting to reveal they were all playing a joke on the crazy lady from upstairs. Instead, Willโ€™s eyes grew wide.

โ€œYou mean last night?โ€ he blurted.

I shook my head before I turned to Jen.

โ€œRemember when I knocked on your door?โ€

โ€œWait, back then?โ€

โ€œAre you guys seriously talking about an alley shrinking? Maybe next youโ€™re telling me the freaking mansionโ€™s coming for us? Fucking listen to yourselves!โ€

It was Jay once again. No one didnโ€™t know what to say to his outburst. Then I remembered the picture Iโ€™d taken and took out my phone.

Moments later, Jen, Will, and I stood outside, staring at the alley.

โ€œYouโ€™ve got to be kidding me,โ€ Jen said in a low voice.

All three of us could see it. The alley had shrunk to almost half its size. Before, two people could walk through it side by side. Now, there was barely enough room for one. I snapped a second picture.

โ€œSo?โ€ Phil asked, almost jumping off his seat when we returned.

โ€œItโ€™s smaller,โ€ Jen answered.

โ€œThe fuck you mean?โ€ Jay cut in.

โ€œThe alley, idiot,โ€ she snapped at him.

โ€œThatโ€™s not even possible!โ€

โ€œCheck for yourself,โ€ I retorted, fed up by his act. โ€œItโ€™s definitely smaller in the first picture.โ€

โ€œMaybe you just suck at taking pictures, lady.โ€

I stared him down, getting angry.

โ€œSeriously, I can believe Willโ€™s coming up with bullshit like that, but you guys, too?โ€ Jay confronted Phil and Jen.

โ€œHow do you know they arenโ€™t right?โ€

It was the first time the one named Steve said anything. Heโ€™d just sat there, quietly, listening to the conversation.

โ€œReally, Steve? You, too?โ€ Jay groaned. โ€œAm I the only one whoโ€™s not fucking insane?โ€

โ€œLook at that, will you?โ€

Jen interrupted, grabbing my phone and shoving it in his face.

โ€œCould be any freaking alley,โ€ he muttered, but I noticed the edge to his voice.

โ€œSo, what do you guys want to do?โ€ he started again. โ€œCall social services? The cops? What do you want to tell them? Hello officer, our alleyโ€™s shrinking, so maybe-โ€œ

โ€œWill you shut the fuck up!?โ€ I finally screamed at him.

I could see the surprise on his face.

โ€œJesus, lady, no need for that,โ€ he said, raising his hands.

โ€œWhat if itโ€™s some sort of trick? You know, for YouTube or something?โ€ I tried to reason. โ€œI mean, no one lives out here, right? Might be a prank or a social experiment, or something.โ€

The others werenโ€™t convinced by my idea. Hell, even I wasnโ€™t, but it was better than a mansion moving or an alley shrinking. No, thatโ€™s got to be it. Nothing weird going on here.

I sat with them for a while longer, before I eventually said my goodbyes and returned to my apartment.

That evening, I did my best to distract myself with a pleasant dinner and a movie on Netflix before I went to bed. Around midnight, I was woken by strange sounds. It sounded like something grinding against stone, accompanied by loud breathing. I shrieked, jumped for the night light, thinking someone else was in the room. My eyes darted around in a panic, but I found no hint of an intruder.

Then, after a few seconds had passed, I realized the sounds were coming from outside. An icy shiver went down my spine as I stared at the blinds. With my heart pounding in my chest, I approached them. I hesitated, but then, with a single swift motion, I tore them open and peeked outside. What I was greeted with was… absolutely nothing. The sounds were gone, too. I opened the window and checked the alley below. I looked for animals, for people, even for some hidden mechanism. Nothing. The alley was entirely empty, and everything was quiet. Eventually, after minutes had passed, I closed the window again. My hands wandered to the blinds, about to pull them shut, when the curtains behind the mansionโ€™s filthy window rustled slightly. In an instant, I retreated to the other end of the living room.

For the next hour, I tried to get back to sleep, but I couldnโ€™t. I was too agitated. The thought of someone, or something, waiting for me behind that window was just too creepy. What if they were just waiting for me to fall asleep to come for me? As much as I told myself I was being stupid, I couldnโ€™t shake the thought.

In the end, I gave up on sleep, prepared myself some coffee, and stayed awake until it was time to go to work. On my way to work, I took another brief glimpse at the alley. Now, not even the alley seemed to have changed, but the mansion itself as well. The wall looked different, almost as if it was leaning over towards our building. All the bricks seemed to bend, the outlines warped, as if they were alive, trying to make contact. That wall, it hadnโ€™t been like this before. Definitely not!

And yet, what could I do? Was there anything anyone could do about something like this? No, just ignore it, Linda. Donโ€™t look at it. I closed my eyes, shook my head, and hurried on.

Work went terribly that day. I couldnโ€™t focus at all. I was sleep-deprived, and my thoughts constantly returned to the mansion and the events of last night. Multiple times, people yelled at me to get a move on and to stop daydreaming. Eventually, my superior came over and demanded what was going on. I told him I suffered from sleep deprivation because of night terrors.

โ€œWell, if the jobโ€™s too hard on you, why donโ€™t you take a few days off and get some rest?โ€ he suggested in a sarcastic tone.

I said nothing, and nodded, knowing damn well it meant almost the same at being fired. I was furious, mad and cursed at the damned mansion and whoever was behind this entire thing.

Even after I got home, I was still pissed. I slumped down on the couch and put on a show on Netflix, but fell asleep almost instantly. When I woke up again, it was already dark outside, and my phone told me it was late at night. Great, so much for my daily routine, I cursed to myself. Soon enough, I realized why Iโ€™d woken up. It was the same strange grinding and breathing sounds. At this moment, Iโ€™d had it. I pulled the blinds and opened the window.

โ€œKnock it off, you son of a-โ€œ I started, but what I saw wasnโ€™t a person.

While the breathing and grinding continued, I saw something moving on the wall itself. It had to be some sort of mechanism to move it closer! Yet with my dim night-lamp, I wasnโ€™t able to see anything. I reached for my phone, opened the flashlight app, and pointed it at the wall. My eyes grew wide. The entire wall was covered in bumps, pulsating bumps. Even the bricks below were moving, moving in and out rhythmically. A heartbeat, breathing.

I stood there in horror and confusion, not able to do anything but to stare at the surreal spectacle in front of me. Then one bump grew bigger and bigger before it burst open. The plaster crumbled from the wall, and a syrupy, yellowish liquid leaked from it. Instantly, the air was heavy with a smell so putrid it made me gag. The worst, however, was the place where the bump had been. Instead of bricks, I saw a twitching fleshy mass. It was covered in holes, no pores, from which the disgusting ichor was pumped outward.

When the trance Iโ€™d been under finally broke, I stumble back, not even able to scream. In an instant, I was covered in sweat. My heart was pounding in my chest, and for a moment, my legs almost gave way. Then I dashed for the bathroom and vomited.

For long seconds, I just stood there, over the toilet bowl, panting. God, I could still smell it, even here. Then I turned toward the bathroom door. I told myself to go, to reach out for it and open it, but I just couldnโ€™t. What the hell had I just seen? I tried to reason with myself. None of it couldโ€™ve been real. It had to be a nightmare, a hallucination conjured from constantly thinking about the damned mansion. My mind mustโ€™ve made it all up for some fucked up reason.

And yet, the trick didnโ€™t work. Not this time. Not after what Iโ€™d just seen. When I stepped up to the door, it wasnโ€™t to open it, but to lock it.

I donโ€™t know when sleep arrived. I mustโ€™ve sat in the bathtub for hours, trembling. Even when the sounds stopped, when the only thing I heard was my racing heartbeat, I still couldnโ€™t calm down.

I jerked awake because of a hard knock. For a short terrified second, I thought it was coming from the bathroom door, that someone, or something, had entered my apartment and was coming for me. Then, with each new knock, I realized it was distant, muffled. The front door.

For a moment I hesitated, then I got up and carefully unlocked the bathroom door. I peeked outside and let my eyes wander over my small apartment. Nothing was there. Finally, I hurried toward the front door. There, I found Jen waiting for me. She looked as shaken as me, but the moment she saw me, relief flooded her face.

โ€œOh thank god, Linda, youโ€™re okay!โ€ she said. โ€œI thought youโ€™d be gone too!โ€

I didnโ€™t know what she was talking about.

โ€œWhatโ€™s going on?โ€

โ€œWillโ€™s gone!โ€ she exclaimed. โ€œThereโ€™s no trace of him, but he wouldnโ€™t just run off!โ€

โ€œYou think something happened to him?โ€

Jen nodded, the shaken look reappearing. Only now did she seem to notice what a mess I was.

โ€œLinda, what happened to you? Are you all right?โ€

โ€œI…โ€ I started, but for a few moments I couldnโ€™t continue.

โ€œI saw something, thatโ€™s all.โ€

Jen didnโ€™t press on.

โ€œYou want to come down with me?โ€

โ€œYeah, Iโ€™m not going back in there,โ€ I said, taking a wary look over my shoulder.

When Jen led me inside, the others were talking, words flying back and forth between them. It sounded like an argument, but I couldnโ€™t make sense of anything. Their voices were muffled, distant, their rambling words bleeding into one another. When they noticed me, they fell silent, and all their eyes focused on me.

โ€œWhat did you bring her down for?โ€ Jay asked, annoyed.

โ€œShe is scared, asshole,โ€ Jen replied.

โ€œSomething happened to you, too?โ€

It was Steve whoโ€™d stepped up to me. I nodded weakly, only now realizing how exhausted I was.

โ€œWell, you gonna spit it out, lady, or what?โ€

โ€œJay. Just. Shut. Up. Okay?โ€ Jen snapped at him.

She turned back to me and motioned for me to take a seat on the couch. Then she vanished and brought me a cup of watered-down coffee. After a few sips, I told the rest about what Iโ€™d seen last night.

โ€œAll right, just what the hellโ€™s going on here?โ€ Steve cursed after a while.

โ€œIs that shit still there?โ€ Jay asked.

โ€œI only saw it in the middle of the night,โ€ I admitted.

Right away, Steve got up.

โ€œLetโ€™s check it out,โ€ he said, and made his way to Willโ€™s room.

I quickly followed him.

โ€œCareful,โ€ I urged him.

When we were both in the room, I could see that the window was still wide open. Willโ€™s bed was in chaos. The rest of the room, however, was untouched. Steve stopped up to the window and leaned outside to check out the mansionโ€™s walls. A moment later, he turned back to me.

โ€œNothing.โ€

Somehow, I already knew thereโ€™d be no hint of those bumps.

When we returned to the living room, the rest had already gone back to argue about Willโ€™s disappearance.

โ€œWhy are you all so sure he didnโ€™t just run off? Maybe he freaked out about whatโ€™s going on here.โ€

It was Phil who answered. He shuffled around awkwardly.

โ€œItโ€™s not so easy. He needs his,โ€ he paused for a moment, trying to find the right words, โ€œmedication. You know? Heโ€™s…โ€

His voice trailed off, leaving the sentence unfinished.

Medication, I thought, and smiled knowingly, while Jen frowned, clearly irritated at his all-too-obvious attempt at covering things up. Everyone else stayed quiet, trying their best to not meet my eyes. Typical stoners, I thought, seen it all before.

โ€œSomeone pried his window open,โ€ Jen added. โ€œWe called the police, butโ€ฆโ€

โ€œBut what?โ€

โ€œThey havenโ€™t arrived yet,โ€ she blurted.

โ€œListen, lady,โ€ Jay added, after giving Jen a brief glance. โ€œThey probably wonโ€™t show. We had some trouble before. Took them days to get here, and they didnโ€™t care one bit.โ€

I probed him, unsure about his words, but I knew the cops didnโ€™t give a shit about these buildings… or the people living in them, for that matter. It was always the same.

โ€œSo, if he didnโ€™t run away, and someone broke into his room, what do you think happened?โ€ I finally asked.

While they argued about it, I remember what Will had said before. Someone tapped against his window, and just like me, heโ€™d seen a silhouette behind the mansionโ€™s window. When I spoke up about it, everyone turned to me.

โ€œYou think someone from the mansion took him?โ€ Steve asked.

I nodded before I turned to Jen.

โ€œHey, Jen, is it all right if I take a nap here? Iโ€™m not doing so good…โ€

She looked around and frowned.

โ€œLetโ€™s go to my room. You can sleep there. You never know what happens with those guys around.โ€

โ€œFuck you, too, bitch,โ€ Jay said, giving her the finger.

Jenโ€™s room could barely be called that. It was tiny and only comprised a bed and a small shelf.

โ€œSorry, but do you have some water? Oh, and if possible,โ€ I added, with a weak smile. โ€œMaybe something that helps me sleep a little better?โ€

โ€œSure thing, Linda.โ€

She left, and after a minute, returned with a glass of water. After the first sip, I gulped it down greedily. I was surprised by how thirsty I was, but a few moments later, Iโ€™d already drifted off.

When I woke up, I was glad that I hadnโ€™t been plagued by any weird nightmares. It seemed whatever Jen added to it did the trick. I got up and stumbled from the room.

โ€œYou were out pretty long,โ€ I heard Phil from behind me. โ€œItโ€™s already dark.โ€

I nodded and made my way to the living room.

โ€œHey there, sleeping beauty,โ€ Jay greeted me with a wink.

I didnโ€™t even bother to react.

โ€œWhat about the police? Did they turn up?โ€

โ€œNope,โ€ Steve answered.

โ€œAny news about Will?โ€

A second nope.

Steve told me theyโ€™d gone over to the old mansion. They rang the doorbell for minutes, pounded against the door and called out to whoever was living there, but got no reaction. When I asked him if he thought the place was abandoned, he could only shrug. They thought so at first, but felt watched the entire time. Yet they saw nothing. No one watching them, and no movement behind the windows.

As I listened, I fumbled for my phone, but realized it wasnโ€™t there.

โ€œShit,โ€ I cursed.

It was still at my place. For a moment, I considered giving up on it, but then I told myself I was being ridiculous. My apartment was on the second floor, so what was the worst that could happen? Not like a wall could come for me. Iโ€™d just rush in, grab the damn thing, and be gone a moment later.

โ€œLinda, where are you going?โ€ Jen asked when I made my way to toward the door.

โ€œGotta get my phone. Iโ€™ll be right back.โ€

In front of the door, I told myself to calm down. Then I took a deep breath and opened it. I pushed my head inside, then hit the light switch and waited. All was quiet. In an instant, I dashed into the living room. For a while, my eyes darted around before I found the phone lying below the window. The moment I kneeled down to get it, the same terrifying sounds started again.

โ€œOh god, please, no.โ€

I told myself to just get the damned phone and run. Yet when I got up, my eyes wandered to the wall, driven by a strange sense of curiosity. When I stared at it, I saw the same pulsating bumps all over it. Fear washed over me, and a voice in my mind screamed at me to run, yet I couldnโ€™t. I just couldnโ€™t move as I stared at the absurdity in front of me. My heart was beating in my chest, but I just stood there, frozen, mesmerized. The sounds were so much louder now. The grinding, the breathing, now almost like a dry wheezing, as if a giant organism was exerting itself, doing… something.

I took a single step back when another bump burst open. Instantly, the same pungent smell reached me, and I saw the same disgusting yellowish liquid. But it wasnโ€™t all. With wide eyes, and uncomprehending, I watched as the flesh below began to wiggle and push itself outward. It stretched further and further into the direction of my building like a tentacle. A moment later, I heard a wet splash as the flesh made contact.

I stumbled back, tripping over my own feet, and crashed to the floor, only to see that the window on the mansionโ€™s wall was wide open. My eyes were met those of a figure hiding behind the curtains. When they parted, I could vaguely make out an older woman. I opened my mouth to say something, but then she leaned forward, and I could see her horrible, inhuman face.

Behind greasy strands of overlong hair lay a bulging, leathery forehead. Her eyes were tiny, almost invisible behind her puffy, almost swollen skin. Where her nose shouldโ€™ve been, I saw only a jagged, bone-like protrusion. When she saw me, her lipless mouth changed to a smile, a smile that grew wider and wider, almost dividing her face in two.

โ€œWhy donโ€™t you come over here and join me, little girl?โ€ she asked, cackling.

Everything about her voice was wrong. It was deep, guttural, and distorted, like a faulty, barely intelligible recording. Then she opened her mouth, and I watched as her jaw unhinged like that of a snake, revealing rows upon rows of rotten, misshapen teeth.

I was still frozen, stunned by the ghastly, surreal creature opposite me. This couldnโ€™t be real! None of this could be real! Something like this thing, it shouldnโ€™t exist!

As if in a dream, I watched as two bony hands reached out for my windowsill, and the creature began pulling itself over. I scrambled back, not able to tear my eyes from the horror I was witnessing. Her body wasnโ€™t that of a human being. It was nothing but a bloated mass of flesh, disgustingly worm-like.

When the thingโ€™s body made it past the windowsill, the trance I was under finally broke. I pushed myself up, rushed from the living room, but a moment later, one of the creatureโ€™s hands closed around my ankle. I hit the ground hard, saw stars, and soon felt myself being dragged backwards. My fingers clawed at the floor, desperate to find a hold, anything.

โ€œWhere do you think youโ€™re going?โ€ it cackled in its distorted, mechanical voice.

I kicked and screamed in sheer and utter terror, flailed around, trying to get free, but it was futile. Its strength was too much. A second later, its other hand closed around my arm, restraining me. I tried to call for help, to alert the others downstairs, but my voice didnโ€™t want to work. All I managed to produce were incomprehensible, animalistic sounds.

I was prey, a powerless, useless thing caught by an indomitable hunter, just waiting for the final blow. All the strength left my body, and time slowed, while the creatureโ€™s maw of a mouth moved in closer. It reached my foot, and a disgustingly swollen tongue pushed outward. It entangled my ankle, as if savoring my taste before it slowly moved upward. My skin hissed and blacked, and for a second, burning pain shot through my entire leg before I lost all feeling in it.

I waited for the creature to think its teeth into my leg, but it just continued to pull me in closer. Oh god, I realized, it was going to swallow me whole.

Right at that moment, a scream cut through the air. When I looked towards the door, I saw Jen standing there. A second later, Phil and Steve joined her.

โ€œWhat the fuck!?โ€ Phil screamed.

They froze, their eyes wide, and for a split second, they werenโ€™t able to grasp the situation. Steve was the first to move again. He rushed forward, got hold of a chair, and began attacking the creature. Jen and Phil got a hold of me, trying to pull me free, but they were no match for the its inhuman strength.

The thing wailed in pain as Steve slammed the chair down on its head. Wood splintered against skin again and again. Dark blood oozed from a wound, but the creature barely flinched. Instead, it redoubled its efforts, and pulled me so hard, I shrieked, thinking my leg would be torn off.

Then it let go of me and turned to attack Steve. It swatted the chair aside with such force, it was torn from his hands and crashed against the wall. A stunned Steve backed away, but the creature lunged for him. Its ghastly fingers scratched over his chest, leaving behind a sizzling mark. Steve winced in pain, but instead of backing down, he kicked the creature. Phil was with him a second later, and together they both beat it until it was forced to retreat.

Finally free, I scrambled away from the window and watched as the creatureโ€™s worm-like body slithered backward. A moment later, it vanished behind the mansionโ€™s window. It grinned at me a last time, before the curtains fell shut.

As soon as it was gone, I screamed again. The nihilistic thought of giving up vanished from my mind. Panicked and out of it, I crawled toward the hallway, tried to get up, but crashed down again instantly.

โ€œLinda, wait. Itโ€™s all right, itโ€™s all right,โ€ Jen whispered to me in a quiet voice, trying to calm me down.

When I came to my senses, a wave of searing pain replaced shock. I felt tears streaming from my eyes, and I could only stare at the red burnt skin on my arm. The leg was even worse. My ankle, as well as the entire calf, was nothing but a mess of blistered and cracked skin.

I only remember fragments of them carrying me downstairs. Faces, movements, words. My thoughts were too disjointed, barely holding together. Everything felt hidden behind a thick, heavy fog, floating and out of focus. Was any of this even real? Was I… dreaming?

While Jen treated my wounds, she explained to a confused Jay what had happened. Their mouths moved, but I didnโ€™t understand the words. Slowly, as if in a trance, I turned and saw Steve and Phil in front of Willโ€™s apartment. They began stacking boxes and furniture in front of it, but I couldnโ€™t make sense of what was going on.

Then, with a jolt, I snapped back into reality.

โ€œWe need to leave!โ€ I snapped at Jen, trying to push myself up, but my legs didnโ€™t want to cooperate.

I sank back down. The pain from my burns was unbearable, making me want to scream. Suddenly, the grinding sounds started again, but this time, much, much louder. While the others were still confused, I knew what it meant. The mansion was dragging itself closer again. Terrified, I wanted to call out to Jen, but before I could, we all heard a loud shattering noise, followed by terrified screaming. My eyes darted around in horror before I realized its source.

โ€œThe old couple on the upper floor!โ€ I shouted. โ€œThat thing must be back!โ€

The guys rushed out, and only moments later, Jen and me leaning onto her followed behind. Right as we made it up the stairs, I saw Jay kicking in the door. Instead of going in, however, all three of them cringed back.

โ€œWhat are you doing? Help them!โ€ I called out, but the moment Jen and I reached them, my voice dropped.

The old couple was standing in front of the remains of their living room window. The twisting, wriggling mass of flesh mustโ€™ve destroyed it and pushed itself inside. It was spreading over the walls while pumping copious amounts of the disgusting, putrid liquid from its pores. It had already leaked over the entire living room.

The two of them were screaming, trying to get away, but in shock, I saw their feet were stuck to the floor, seemed to have melted into it. When their pleading eyes met mine and their arms reached out for me, I stumbled back. No, I couldnโ€™t, I couldnโ€™t do anything! Then the old woman toppled over.

Sizzling, burning sounds reached my ear, and when she lifted her head again, it was covered in blisters, the skin burning, bursting open. Jay wanted to rush forward to help, but right at that moment, another gush of yellowish ooze squirted from the fleshy mass, drenching both of them. Their screams turned into a high-pitched wailing, something so terrible it shouldnโ€™t come from a human being. The liquid, sick and yellow, soaked through their clothes and into their bodies, melting them from the inside out. Limbs sagged, flesh turned soft and mushy, melting from their bones and mixing with the puddle at their feet.

When the nauseating smell of searing tissue reached us, Phil stumbled back and vomited. Finally, Jay slammed the door shut. For a moment, we all just stood there, traumatized and in utter disbelief at what weโ€™d just witnessed.

Then a loud, crashing thump brought us back to reality.

โ€œWhat now!?โ€ Jen shrieked.

โ€œHelp me. Quick!โ€ I yelled at her.

โ€œLinda, what are you doing?โ€

I didnโ€™t answer, and instead pulled her towards my apartment. The moment we reached the front door, we both stopped.

โ€œHow in the…โ€ Jen started, not able to finish the sentence.

My living room window was gone, sealed off by the mansionโ€™s walls. No hint of the mansionโ€™s window remained.

โ€œWhat the fuckโ€™s going on?โ€ Phil yelled from down the hallway.

Steve and Jay barged in after us, but immediately took off downstairs without saying a word. When Jen and I made it back to their apartment, we saw them tearing down the makeshift barrier in front of Willโ€™s room. A second later, Jay ripped open the door, but I already knew what heโ€™d find. A window blocked off by a solid wall. No one even mentioned that the here, too, the mansionโ€™s window was gone.

โ€œWhat the hell?โ€ I heard Jay curse.

Steve walked up to the wall sealing the window, and after hesitating for a moment, he reached out for it with his hand.

โ€œFeels warm,โ€ he said, his face pale and uncomprehending.

I stared at the wall, watched as a bump formed under the plaster, rapidly growing bigger.

โ€œGet away from there!โ€ I called out, but it was already too late.

The bump burst open.

The first thing I heard wasnโ€™t the tearing of plaster, neither the squirting of the liquid, but the sound of burning flesh. Then all sounds were drowned out by Steveโ€™s screams. The corrosive sludge ate into his hand, arm, and shoulder. I watched, screaming and horrified, as bits and pieces of his arm fell to the ground and melted away. Then his shoulder vanished, as if his body was collapsing into itself. His bloodcurdling screams died even before his ravaged body hit the floor.

That was it for me. Panic got hold of me, and before anyone else could react, I turned around and rushed from the room. Iโ€™d only taken a few steps before I crashed to the floor.

โ€œOut!โ€ I cried out. โ€œWe have to get out!โ€

Pain shot through my entire body, but I fought myself back up. With adrenaline coursing through my veins, I dragged myself forward, onward, thinking of nothing but escape. I reached the hallway, and finally the exit door. I almost blacked out from the pain of my burned arm when I tore open the door.

Instead of the fresh, chilly night, another wall greeted me. The air left my lungs, and I slumped to the floor in disbelief. Jen stopped in her tracks behind me, covering her mouth, before letting out a terrified yelp.

โ€œNo way,โ€ she muttered.

Phil and Jay were already moving when I turned around, kicking down the nearest door. They disappeared inside, only to emerge moments later, shaking their head and rushing on to the next apartment. Each time, their silence grew heavier. By the time they returned, they sank down next to us, pale and hollow-eyed.

I didnโ€™t even bother to ask. I knew what theyโ€™d found. Every window and every other spot that led outside was gone. We were trapped, and cut off from the rest of the world.

After weโ€™d mustered up enough energy, we checked the basement. There was no way out there either. All the tiny basement windows had been sealed off.

Our phones were still working, at least for a while, and so was the energy. For hours, we desperately tried to get help, all of us did. I called the police repeatedly. I got through several times, but the signal was so bad, they werenโ€™t able to make out a word I was saying. Before long, utterly frustrated, I just gave up. Even if theyโ€™d understand the address, would they even come? And if they did, what would they find? Our building was most likely surrounded by the mansionโ€™s walls by now, and had become just another part of it.

We also tried to break down the walls trapping us, but it was another futile attempt. The weird fleshy mass had already replaced the plaster and bricks below, pulsating faintly, like a sick heartbeat. The moment we discovered it, the same corrosive liquid that had killed Steve and the old couple oozed from it, the acrid stench burning my nose. It didnโ€™t matter what we used, everything that touched it melted away in seconds.

In the end, we couldnโ€™t do anything and before long, we settled down in the buildingโ€™s central hallway. At least here, we reasoned, weโ€™d be safe, at least for a time. While we gathered all the food and water we could find, we noticed that the walls around us were shifting.

At certain times, the central hallway was shorter than before. At others, it appeared longer. The layout of the apartments, too, began changing. At first little by little, but soon entire rooms were replaced by different ones. It seemed as if the entire place was being remodeled, as it was incorporated into whatever this godforsaken mansion was. Because of these changes, I remembered, we werenโ€™t alone in here. Iโ€™d returned to one of the vacant apartments in search of anything useful. I donโ€™t know why I even bothered. Weโ€™d gone through them so many times already. And even if we found something, what would it do? Wasnโ€™t it all a waste of time?

Suddenly, a wall in front of me began moving. I stumbled back as fast as my injured leg allowed me to, but for a few moments, the interior of the mansion was laid open for me. Words canโ€™t describe what I saw. It was a void, but also glistering in all the colors of the rainbow.

I found myself face to face with a hulking humanoid figure. Its body was too tall, its limbs unnaturally long and twisted. Its head jerked in my direction, tilting at an impossible angle. A grotesque grin stretched across its face, mocking but also inviting. Then the creature moved. Like a marionette, held by invisible strings, it jumped up and down mechanically as if dancing, producing strange oohing and aahing sounds.

I shouldโ€™ve been scared, shouldโ€™ve screamed, but I started… laughing. A wave of strangest euphoria washed over me, and I began giggling, clapping my hands together rhythmically, as the surreal performance played out in front of me.

Then it was over, and the walls in front of me closed again. The bout of insanity was gone, and I was left terrified and shivering. What the hell had I just done? What even was that thing? Had it been another inhabitant of the mansion, just like that ghastly worm-woman? If so, where did they come from? A terrifying thought came to my mind. What if all these creatures had once been normal people, people whoโ€™d been trapped just like us?

No, donโ€™t think about it, Linda. Donโ€™t you dare!

As I retreated from the apartment, I heard noises all around me, noises that seemed to follow me. At first only giggling, but soon it turned into distant, gurgling laughter. My heart was pounding, and my eyes darted around, expecting the thing to come for me again, but the moment I made it to the central hallway, its sounds ebbed away. Yet they werenโ€™t gone completely. Occasionally, I still heard it from different parts of the building and from the walls around us. The creature was still there, hidden behind the walls or inside the crawl spaces, exploring this ever-changing mansion.


We divided the food and water between ourselves. No one said a word. Jen stared blankly at the wall, her eyes glassy, not even glancing at the small stack of provisions in front of her. Jay rubbed at his temples, muttering under his breath about how long it might last. No one dared to speak up. We had nothing left to say. Hours blurred into days as we huddled together in silence.

Phil was the first to break

โ€œWhy donโ€™t we just drink from the freaking tap?โ€ he suddenly yelled at us, staring at the small cup of water he was holding.

No one replied. There was no need to. After Phil emptied his cup, he continued.

โ€œI mean, the energyโ€™s still working, right? So why not the pipes?โ€

He looked at each one of us, trying to find either reassurance or someone stopping him. He got neither. None of us said a word. Jen didnโ€™t even look up.

โ€œCome on, you guys must be thirsty, too! We might be able to drink it, so why not give it a try? You know, to see if itโ€™s all right!โ€

โ€œGo ahead, then,โ€ Jay said, shrugging.

Phil just stood there, unmoving. Then he turned to me with a pleading expression on his face. I could see how anxious he was. His body was trembling, his eyes were wide, and his lips were quivering. I wanted to stop him, wanted to tell him that water wouldnโ€™t be fine. He was so goddamn afraid, mirroring my own terror, and after a few moments, I just couldnโ€™t take it anymore. I turned away and stayed quiet.

โ€œGo do it,โ€ I spat, my voice colder than I meant it to be.

I just wanted this interaction to be over with. I heard him cursing to himself about doing nothing, not even trying, as he walked away. Soon after, I heard the sounds of running water.

โ€œItโ€™s fine,โ€ he called out to us. โ€œNothingโ€™s happening. My hand isnโ€™t burning at all! Iโ€™m sure I can drink it, right guys?โ€

His voice was high-pitched and cracking. Once again, no one said a word.

Then I heard him gulp down. What surprised me the most wasnโ€™t that he actually drank it, but how clearly I could hear it.

Only a few moments later, he returned to us.

โ€œI told you guys it would be fine. I knew we could drink it,โ€ he said, snootily. โ€œYou guys are such idiots, saving and rationing those few bottles of water as if they are oh so important. Why not just-โ€œ

โ€œWill you shut up already?!โ€ Jen yelled, without even turning to face him.

Phil opened his mouth to snap back at her, but then he just mumbled a โ€˜whateverโ€™ and sat back down.

Not even ten minutes later, he started panting and shifting around on the floor.

โ€œWill you stop, already?โ€ Jen screamed at him again.

When I looked over, I saw his face was glowing red and covered in sweat.

โ€œHey, whatโ€™s the matter?โ€

Phil focused on me with teary eyes. He opened his mouth as if to say something before he coughed up and spat out copious amounts of bloody phlegm. When he saw it, his eyes grew wide, and reached out for me, getting a hold of my arm. I tried to tear myself free, to escape, when his body tensed up. The grip around my arm became tighter and tighter before his nails dug painfully deep into my skin. I cursed in pain, but when he started twisting and flailing, I could finally tear myself free.

Suddenly, he clutched at his body and pulled up his shirt. My eyes grew wide when I saw the plethora of deep, bloody holes covering his abdomen. Instantly, I was assaulted by the nauseating smell of charred skin and flesh. I watched in horror as he dug into himself, tearing at his mushy flesh and burnt intestines, as if he could fix what couldnโ€™t be.

His screams continued on for another minute before silence returned. No one said a word about what happened. Jen had already turned away. Ever since weโ€™d been trapped, sheโ€™d become nothing but an apathetic wreck.

Jay looked on for a while longer, his eyes lingering on the body of his dead friend. A mixture of fear, regret, and frustration distorted his face. When tears came to his eyes, and he noticed me staring at him, he too turned away.


Ever since weโ€™d moved into the hallway, Iโ€™ve been journaling. I wrote down everything that happened: my thoughts, my worries, and the many regrets about my life. I thought back to how Iโ€™d done it in the morning. Get the tears turning, Linda, positive reinforcement, a voice in my head taunted me. What a goddamn farce it all was. Iโ€™d have laughed if I still had the energy for it left.

This thing here, this mansion, itโ€™s not a building. I donโ€™t know what it is, I donโ€™t know where it came from, but I know it shouldnโ€™t exist. The noises around us started again: the giggling, the shifting of the walls, and the grinding outside. The mansion was closing in on yet another building, driven by its will to extend itself. I knew what it meant. By now, not a single trace of our small building was left, and soon enough, the same would be true for us.


When I last woke up, a wooden door had appeared at the end of the hallway. It was just there, out of complete nowhere. Itโ€™s nothing, but a normal wooden door, slightly aged, the paint flaking, the knob old and rusty.

Jay has been staring at it for hours. Jen ignored it, like everything else. Sheโ€™s alive, but she doesnโ€™t talk or move anymore. All she does is take the occasional sip of water or nibble on a piece of food.

All I can do is write, write and ignore that damned door. Jay is trying to do the same, but I know heโ€™s growing restless. Every once in a while, heโ€™s gotten up, taken a few steps forward, mumbling to himself, before he sat back down. I know heโ€™s contemplating opening it.


Jay is gone. He just couldnโ€™t take it anymore.

When he finally stepped up to the door, I followed him as best as I could.

โ€œIโ€™m going,โ€ he said when I reached him. โ€œJust sitting here wonโ€™t do anything. Maybe I can find a way out.โ€

โ€œYeah, maybe,โ€ I mumbled, not able to meet his eyes.

โ€œRight? The mansion has doors and windows,โ€ he rambled. โ€œIf I find anything, then…โ€

His voice trailed off. We both knew. We knew about the liquid, the shifting walls, and the monsters.

โ€œIโ€™ll bring help, I promise.โ€

With that, he put his hand on the doorknob. I nodded as he turned it. Behind it, I saw nothing but impenetrable darkness. A second later, he stepped in.

The darkness engulfed him instantly. I stood there, listening to the ever-fainting echo of his footsteps. I waited for the screams, the giggling, the laughter, the mad glowing lights Iโ€™d seen before, for… anything. And yet, no matter how much I waited, nothing happened.

Tears stream down my face before I threw the door shut, cursing at the damned mansion for giving me hope.


While I sat there, pen in hand, Jen suddenly started talking. Sheโ€™d been watching me for a while now, but had never reacted to it, never said a word.

โ€œWhat are you even doing?โ€ she asked, turning toward me.

Her voice was hollow, emotionless, as if she couldnโ€™t fathom why I bothered.

โ€œJournaling. Keeps me sane.โ€

She laughed. I didnโ€™t know she had the energy left for that.

โ€œWhy do you even bother? Weโ€™re going to die, anyway! Why not let go? God letting go is the best feeling in the world. I wish I had some right now,โ€ she rambled.

โ€œWhat do you…? Wait, is that why the police didnโ€™t show up? Because they know you guys are… addicts?โ€

When she heard this, Jen burst out laughing before she dropped me a freaking bomb.

โ€œOh god, Linda, how you can be so stupid? You think we actually called them? You really did? What would we even say? Hey officers, our friend vanished, ignore the drugs and search for him, kay?โ€

While she kept on laughing, I just sat there, trying to take in what sheโ€™d just told me.

โ€œWith all the shit in Willโ€™s room, weโ€™d be looking for some serous time! Fuck, even the shit in my blood wouldโ€™ve been enough for that! But I guess prison wouldโ€™ve been better than dying here, right, Linda? At least Iโ€™d still be aliveโ€ฆโ€

I was fuming, not able to bring out a single word.

โ€œLinda?โ€ she asked again.

When I said nothing, she turned around.

โ€œWell, then fuck you, too,โ€ she mumbled.

I kept quiet, and wrote down everything that bitch just told me, what she and her friends had done. If the police wouldโ€™ve come and cleared out their fucking apartment, I wouldnโ€™t be here! Itโ€™s her fucking fault, their fault! Theyโ€™ve been lying to me this entire fucking time! If not for them, I wouldnโ€™t be trapped in this, this…


The door is still there, even now, even hours after Jay went in. Itโ€™s still tempting me. Occasionally, I can hear something scratch over its wooden surface. Maybe the creature is back, maybe itโ€™s something even more terrifying. I can imagine it, some horror sitting behind that door, waiting until I get as desperate as Jay.

Thatโ€™s why itโ€™s still there. To lure me in. To give me hope. Hope that doesnโ€™t exist.

No, not me. I wonโ€™t fall for it.


I donโ€™t know how much time has passed. Could be days, could be weeks. Our foods gone, but we still got water. Iโ€™ve been checking the apartments again, trying to find anything that could help, or a way to escape, for an opening.

The rest of the time, Iโ€™m just writing. Nothing but writing for hours. Writing down every little thought that comes to my mind. To stay sane. To keep me from breaking.

The noises are back, scratching giggling, but also whispering. Taunts. Suggestions. I shut them all out. Iโ€™m not listening.

Jen is nothing but a husk by now, more dead than alive. But I wonโ€™t end up like her.


I told myself not to listen, to not give into the whispers, but I fail more and more. They tell me about my past, my failures, my mistakes, but also about opportunities, about ways to change.

I scream at them to shut up, to leave me alone, and that they are wrong. But thatโ€™s what they want. I know it.

More than once, I wandered the building, lured by the ever-present whispers, following them around, while I tell them they are wrong, explaining myself, trying to make sense of everything. I ended up in distant hallways, in areas and rooms that didnโ€™t exist before, only to snap out of it and run back.

And then, I saw her, just lying there. Not caring, not moving, not doing fucking anything!

โ€œSay something!โ€ I laid into her. โ€œDo something!โ€

Yet all I get is the same stare. Hollow eyes, empty face. Nothing.


The lights are dimming, occasionally giving out. Itโ€™s all coming to an end. Iโ€™m going to starve here, arenโ€™t I? In this hellhole of a place.

Iโ€™ve been making up scenarios, ideas, plans. At first, I was scared, terrified, but not anymore, not after all this time.

Itโ€™s her fault, isnโ€™t it? I went over it again and again. Pages upon pages upon pages. Her. Her and her friends. If not for her, I wouldnโ€™t even be here.

I keep staring at her, thinking about what I could do. What she could do. What I want to do.

During my wanderings, I found a knife in one of the vacant apartments. I didnโ€™t mean to pick it up; it was just there, in my hand.

Heavy. Sharp. Pointed.

I know sheโ€™s still alive. I know sheโ€™s just sleeping. Only a single moment. Thatโ€™s all I need.

Iโ€™ve planned it all. I canโ€™t help but giggle about it. About her. About how she can help me, how she can finally be of use.

No, I canโ€™t hold back anymore. I just canโ€™t. Iโ€™m almost euphoric, rocking back and forth, smiling, grinning, just like that creature I saw. A way out. The only way out. My god, itโ€™s all so easy, so hilarious. No, donโ€™t laugh, Linda. Donโ€™t wake her.

I listen to the walls, to the whispers. I can hear them, encouraging me. Do it, Linda, they say, do it, and youโ€™ll survive.

These things, these creatures, they are just like me. And I, I am like them.

I know I have to be quick.

The knifeโ€™s been in my hand for hours, but now I am ready.

A thousand thousand voices cheer me on from all around, repeating the same thing.

Do it, Linda. Do it now.

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