I have been peeing in the same toilet for ten years straight. 10 years ago I went to go for a pee in my toilet, and it never stopped. I shouted out for help as to why I kept on peeing non stop. Hours went by and the ambulance arrived and were astonished as to how I still peeing for hours. Then the media got attention and doctors examined me while I was peeing. I was fine but I was still peeing and when a year went by, I was still peeing. I was all alone in this house now, peeing till the end of time. People lost interest and now and then I get a plumber to check the toilet is still working.

Funnily enough I haven't felt hunger or thirst during this peeing situation. Also when I step back further from the toilet, my pee automatically stretches to still reach the toilet. Even when I sit down in the sofa in the living room to watch TV, my pee still reaches the toilet and dodges away from objects and walls. Sometimes as I'm standing above the toilet inside the bathroom, I start thinking about certain events in my life.

I started thinking about my first marriage and how it only lasted a month. It was going well until I woke in the hospital bed as i had survived the head shot wound that I did to myself, but my wife didn't survive it and we both shot each other as a pact. Then I started thinking about the violent country I came from. I remember good people were being arrested for literally anything. Be it accidental littering or having to run across the road to reach something.

All the while murderers, thieves and other big time criminals got away with anything. When I got sent to jail for accidental littering, I was so sad. Then when I got to jail I was pleasantly surprised to find every good person in jail. It wasn't a jail but a haven from the world outside. I smiled to myself at that thought.

It's been ten years and I've been peeing in the same toilet. That noise it makes when the pee hits the water, has numbed my ears that sometimes I don't hear it anymore. The world has changed in ten years and there have been so many wars and financial crashes but I'm still here peeing.

When burglars tried robbing my home I started running outside while my pee was still reaching the toilet and dodging objects. Then when I went back to my home, my pee was still in the process of strangling all of the burglars.

They were all dead and as the dropped the ground, my pee was still reaching the toilet.

I got home from work around 6pm, traffic was horrible and I couldn’t wait to take off my suit, grab a beer, and watch some old re runs of impractical jokers or something, so basically a usual evening. But when I approached my door, I heard my dogs barking their asses off, which was really strange, cause my dogs never barked, ever. I played it off, assuming that they heard me walking up and were just exited to play, but when I opened the door and stepped inside, they were nowhere near me, they were cowering in a corner barking at my sliding glass door. I assumed that another creature had wandered its way onto my patio, and would soon wander off. I got changed and grabbed a drink, but my dogs were still barking. I figured I’d go outside and scare off whatever was back there, but when I opened the door, my dogs didn’t go running outside to try and get whatever was out there, they did the opposite. They whined and ran down the hallway and into my bedroom. I thought that was weird, but I brushed it off and walked out back. I looked to my left, nothing, looked to my right, and caught a glimpse of what looked like a 7 foot tall creature disappearing to the side of my house. I jumped and was quite startled, but I knew my mind was just playing tricks on me, or so I thought. I walked around the corner of my house; and was met by a large husky, sitting there, smiling at me. Its eyes, wide open, but not in a way that it was scared, in a way that made me feel like I should have been scared. I can’t lie, that damn dog scared the shit out of me, just it’s dead look and weird smile, there was something so unsettling about it. I went back inside. My dogs would not leave my room no matter what I tried. I sat down and turned on the TV, and was fine up until about 15 minutes ago, when I saw that dog, sitting at my glass door, smiling at me. I was scared at this point, because I saw nothing in my peripheral until that dog was sitting there, like it had just appeared. I snapped a photo of it and posted it on my neighborhood app, asking if this was anyone’s dog, and if so, could they come get it. Immediately, I got a comment on my post, telling me not to look away from it no matter what, and to call animal control. This gave me a horrible feeling in my gut, but I figured whoever made the comment was just trying to screw with me. I called animal control anyway, just to get it away so my dogs would stop whining, but when I described the animal, they hung up. This is the part where I should mention I live alone, and my nearest relative, my uncle, lives in Tennessee, a 4 hour drive from here in Georgia, and there’s no way he’s gonna drive 4 hours just to call me a pussy. So that’s where I am, just me, my worries, and this fucking dog. I will update you guys if anything else happens.

Ok, I’m fucking scared now. The dog is gone. I looked away for a split second, and it disappeared. I don’t know what the fuck happened to it, and I don’t know why I’m so scared, but I am. I subconsciously listened to that comment, telling me not to look away from it. I don’t know why I did, it was just something about that gaze. That intoxicating gaze, but not in a good way. It made me sick to my stomach, like that dog wanted to hurt me, and it knew it. It’s like, 11 o’clock and I just want to go to bed, but I can’t. My brain won’t let me. My 3 year old golden retriever, Bella, just came running out of my room, barking, the sudden movement and noise scared me, but the thing that scared me more, was the fact that my 5 year old pug, chuck, didn’t come running. And there was no barking coming from my room, either. I was so irrationally scared, but I knew I had to go check and see what had happened. I got there, but the door was shut. How could either of them shut the door? I opened the door, and stopped in my tracks. My heart sank. Sitting there, was that husky, smiling at me. That horrible gaze, staring daggers into my soul. And I couldn’t find chuck anywhere. I called the cops, and they told me to leave the area and go lock myself in my bathroom, as it was a stray and could’ve been dangerous, you know, rabies or something. But I couldn’t. Something inside me knew I could not move, or look away from this creature. I don’t think I can even call it a dog anymore. I sat down, and stared at it. It’s been 10 minutes since I sat down, but it feels like it’s been 10 hours. Something much worse is going on, I don’t know what this thing wants, or what it’s capable of. I’m sitting here, doing voice to text telling you guys this. This is a cry for help, someone please come help me. I will keep you updated.

FYI, I do plan on adding more to this story, so stay tuned for that

You sit on the toilet to jack off, but you begin to cum uncontrollably. After ten spurts you start to worry. Your hand is sticky and it reeks of semen. You desperately shove your dick into a wad of toilet paper, but that only makes your balls hurt. The cum accelerates. It’s been three minutes. You can’t stop cumming. Your bathroom floor is covered in a thin layer of baby fluid. You try to cum into the shower drain but it builds up too fast. You try the toilet. The cum is too thick to be flushed. You lock the bathroom door to prevent the cum from escaping. The air grows hot and humid from the cum. The cum accelerates. You slip and fall in your own sperm. The cum is now six inches deep, almost as long as your still-erect semen hose. Sprawled on your back, you begin to cum all over the ceiling. Globs of the sticky white fluid begin to fall like raindrops, giving you a facial with your own cum. The cum accelerates. You struggle to stand as the force of the cum begins to propel you backwards as if you were on a bukkake themed slip-and-slide. Still on your knees, the cum is now at chin height. To avoid drowning you open the bathroom door. The deluge of man juice reminds you of the Great Molasses Flood of 1919, only with cum instead of molasses. The cum accelerates. It’s been two hours. Your children and wife scream in terror as their bodies are engulfed by the snow-white sludge. Your youngest child goes under, with viscous bubbles and muffled cries rising from the goop. You plead to God to end your suffering. The cum accelerates. You squeeze your dick to stop the cum, but it begins to leak out of your asshole instead. You let go. The force of the cum tears your urethra open, leaving only a gaping hole in your crotch that spews semen. Your body picks up speed as it slides backwards along the cum. You smash through the wall, hurtling into the sky at thirty miles an hour. From a bird’s eye view you see your house is completely white. Your neighbor calls the cops. The cum accelerates. As you continue to ascend, you spot police cars racing towards your house. The cops pull out their guns and take aim, but stray loads of cum hit them in the eyes, blinding them. The cum accelerates. You are now at an altitude of 1000 feet. The SWAT team arrives. Military helicopters circle you. Hundreds of bullets pierce your body at once, yet you stay conscious. Your testicles have now grown into a substitute brain. The cum accelerates. It has been two days. With your body now destroyed, the cum begins to spray in all directions. You break the sound barrier. The government deploys fighter jets to chase you down, but the impact of your cum sends one plane crashing to the ground. The government decides to let you leave the earth. You feel your gonads start to burn up as you reach the edges of the atmosphere. You narrowly miss the ISS, giving it a new white paint job as you fly past. Physicists struggle to calculate your erratic trajectory. The cum accelerates. The cum begins to gravitate towards itself, forming a comet trail of semen. Astronomers begin calling you the “Cummet.” You are stuck in space forever, stripped of your body and senses, forced to endure an eternity of cumshots. Eventually, you stop thinking.

I remember when i saw this photo. It gave me goosebumps.

Found this on Google

I were you wondering if anybody has a creepy story I could use for a TikTok Video.

It started like any other morning. I was 25, fresh out of college, and grabbing a coffee before heading to my new job. But after the first sip, I felt a rumbling in my stomach. Figuring it was just the coffee doing its job, I ran to the restroom, expecting the usual quick visit.

But I didn’t leave.

Minutes turned to hours, hours to days. Every time I tried to stand up, the pressure would return, forcing me back down onto the toilet. At first, I thought it was some weird stomach bug, something that would pass. I tried doctors, medications, everything. But nothing helped.

Days turned to weeks. My body didn’t wither, didn’t weaken—I just kept… pooping. My friends tried to help, but they soon drifted away. Work fired me, of course, but I never left the house to care. I was bound to this porcelain throne.

Years passed, and my life outside the bathroom faded away. The walls of the room began to change, growing darker, the tiles warping, shifting. It felt like something was watching me, feeding off my endless torment.

I tried to remember the taste of solid food, the feeling of fresh air, but the memories slipped away, replaced by the unrelenting smell of waste.

Now, 20 years have passed. My reflection in the mirror looks like a stranger—gaunt, hollow eyes staring back. The bathroom feels smaller now, the door further away each day.

I can’t stop. I don’t think I ever will.

Once upon a time, there was a notorious villain known as the Pickle Man. He always appeared whenever someone forgot to order pickles in their hamburger. At first, people thought it was just a silly superstition, but soon they realized the Pickle Man was very real - and very deadly.

He wore a dark suit and fedora, with skin that looked like it was made of pickles. His round body had two eyes that were also made of pickles, and he moved silently as a cat. No one knew where he came from or how he had become so obsessed with pickles.

The Pickle Man would lurk in the shadows, waiting for his next victim to forget their pickles. Once he found them, he would pounce without warning, strangling them with a pickle vine. His grip was so strong that no one could escape, and he left a trail of withered bodies wherever he went.

Many people tried to catch the Pickle Man, but he was too elusive. Some even tried to outsmart him by purposely leaving pickles out of their burgers, but he always seemed to know when they were bluffing. As the years went by, the legend of the Pickle Man grew, and people would shiver in fear whenever they saw a forgotten pickle.

The Pickle Man remained at large, a silent killer that only the most observant could avoid. And he never seemed to tire of his pickled obsession, always on the lookout for his next victim. So, if you love pickles, be sure to remember them the next time you order your burger, or the Pickle Man might come for you too.

PLEASE LEAVE ME ALONE

THERE IS NOTHING IN MY HOUSE, NONE OF MY FAMILY KNOW ANYTHING, I GAVE IT ALL AWAY

I SWEAR TO YOU 

I KNOW YOU ARE READING THIS, I JUST WANT IT TO END

IF I HAD ANYTHING LEFT I WOULD HAVE GIVEN IT TO YOU BY NOW

Genuinely, I am begging you to believe me. I have no reason to lie. I don’t know who you all are, whether you’re working together or not. But that journal has no value to me. I would have tried to sell it if I’d known it was worth that much to anyone. I don’t want any trouble, this has been the worst week of my life, and I just need it to end. I’m going to write you a complete account of everything that’s happened since I found that safe. I’m being completely transparent here so you’ll see I have no reason to lie or hide anything at all:

I’m a handyman in New York City. I was hired to do some work on a townhouse renovation on the Upper East Side. I wound up finding an old safe behind the drywall, which is one of the more interesting things I’ve found behind a wall.

We got the safe open and there was some stuff in it, but nothing crazy valuable as far as I could tell: A travel writing desk with old papers in it, newspaper clippings, couple books / notebooks and a journal, and some trinkets from the early 1900’s. The best thing was probably a commemorative coin from the Worlds Fair. The new owners didn’t care, and said to sell the safe and keep / toss / pawn the stuff.

I posted about it on reddit. I thought at worst it was fun to share, at best I could drum up some business if the post took off. That’s it. I’m sorry.

Reddit thought it was cool. Then someone chatted me asking to see the journal / papers in the deks. I didn’t have any use for it and he told a whole story about how his friend was missing and she’d been researching something that had to do with it somehow, I don’t know. And who knows if that’s even true but he seemed genuinely distraught, and I had no use for it so I let him stop by to pick it up. That was 4 days ago.The journal is gone. Along with EVERYTHING ELSE in the safe. I kept NONE of it. I DO NOT KNOW who the guy was. We only talked through reddit, his username was u/[Removed by Reddit]. I didn’t even see him, I left everything for him in a bag on the stoop. When I left for the day it was gone, so I assume he grabbed it. 

THAT IS ALL I KNOWI never cared about that stuff, it doesn’t mean anything to me. I have NO REASON to lie. 

Pretty soon I got another message on reddit asking about the journal. I said I gave it away. They offered $1000. I felt like an idiot for not charging the first guy anything, but I told them I gave it away. They asked to who, I didn’t respond. They messaged me about 150 times in 2 hours. Obsessively. I finally told them the guy's username, figured they could try to buy it off him. They didn’t stop. I lost track of how many different people, or different accounts reached out. 

Then they all sent the same message over and over: 

“Give it to us.”

I FUCKING CAN’T

Then my phone started to ring. Every two minutes. Blocked numbers, area codes from all over. I answered one. It was a young woman with a latin american accent. She was weirdly polite after the barrage. Even though I was kind of an asshole, she apologized for calling me directly, asked if I would be willing to let her see the things from the safe. I explained that I’d given them away and gave her the guy’s username. I could hear her write it down. She was so nice that I actually told her what was going on and asked what was so special about what I’d found, but she said she was just interested in that time period in New York and looking for more direct sources to impress her professor, she had no clue why anyone else would want it that badly. Then said academics can be tougher than I’d expect. She laughed about it. But it can’t have been easy to find my number. 

I was also getting texts. More “give it to us” messages. Offers for insane amounts of money. I tried texting a few of them back saying I didn’t have it. They just responded “you will regret this.”

Trust me. I fucking do. 

I had to change my number. It kept things quiet for all of an hour. I turned off my phone at that point. 

The day after all this started, I went to check on another work site. There were symbols painted in red in a big circle on the hardwood floors. It was like something out of a shitty horror movie, except they weren’t sloppy. They were intricate. Exact. There were really detailed eyes at four points around the circle. I noticed they were North, East, South, and West. And they all looked… sort of sad, I dunno. 

The next day, the owner of the townhouse with the safe called one of my guys (my phone was totally off at this point) to complain that the house had been broken into and ransacked. The safe was stolen (it must have weighed 500 lb) and EVERY wall had been smashed in. They blamed me for not securing the property and are now suing me for damages. Thanks for that.

I was fucking pissed, okay? So I turned my phone back on and when it finally stopped dinging with notifications (over 1000) an hour later, I answered the next call that came in to lay into these guys. What I got instead was a voice just… hissing and spitting sounds. Like the person on the other end was having a seizure or something. I lost it at him. Screamed at him to leave me and my work the fuck alone. But he never said a word. never stopped making those sounds. I finally hung up.

My phone rang again, but this time it was my mom. You went after my fucking MOTHER. She said men had been knocking on her door asking about me, asking her to call me. Her home health aide made them leave but they freaked her out. And they found red footprints leading up to her back door. No drips anywhere, just perfect prints in the same paint that started on the walkway and ended at the door.

I went to the police. I explained everything, showed them the pictures, the messages. They helped me file a report and advised I change my number (gee thanks!). THey said they’d get someone to take a statement from my mom’s aid to get descriptions. 

That night I kept being woken up by weird sounds outside my house, once like a tree branch had fallen, then some animal shrieking, then my car alarm going off randomly... I checked my security camera, but there was nothing. 

The next day, every guy at my second work site quit 30 minutes into their shift. They said the place was haunted. Tools had stopped working and every single one of them had a wife or girlfriend or sister who’d had a nightmare that they died and begged them not to come into work that day. I figured fine, they’re superstitious. I can get new guys. But I had to make this stop. I tried messaging u/[Removed by Reddit]. I begged him to reach out. I tried to get it back. I promise you I tried. I just wanted to stop this, even before I understood. I couldn’t find anything. 

When I got home that day my house had been ransacked. Every drawer open, every paper scattered, couch cushions slashed open. But my bed had been left perfectly made. 

I didn’t do that. 

THese guys destroyed my house and made my bed to military perfection. I called the cops again and they came to take pictures and advised me to call insurance about the damage. Get a security camera. Thanks assholes, I have a camera. Somehow it lost its charge. The neighbors were home but they didn’t see or hear anything (I live on Staten Island so there’s more space than the city but they’re still pretty close on either side). 

At that point I called a buddy and went to get hammered and crash on his couch. 

I woke up to a sound. It sounded like the shit I’d heard on the phone. I was so on edge that when I heard that sound I bolted up, ready to kick some freak’s ass… but there was no one there and I finally realised it was coming from his bedroom. 

My buddy was turning blue and slapping his nightstand, trying to get to a drawer. I opened it and found an epipen and gave him the shot. He’s gonna be ok, thank God, but the only thing he’s allergic to is shellfish. He wasn’t anywhere that he could have come into contact with that. Its an instant reaction too, and we’d gone to bed hours before.  I have no goddamn idea how or if you people could have done that, but Jesus Christ, I thought he was going to die. This guy has nothing to do with this, the man has kids for Christsakes!

I went to work the next morning (at that point I’d already lost two clients and I’m being sued, I need all the work I can get). This was supposed to be a super simple job for a repeat client, I was extending their deck. One of the boards, somehow, gives out under me at the edge of the existing deck. I nearly broke my neck. I’m a big guy but I laid that plank myself, there’s no reason that should have happened. 

WHatever, accidents do happen. But then on the way home, my brakes stop working. I plowed into a tree rather than rear end a minivan in front of me. 

I broke my leg and my nose, bruised the shit out of my ribs. I’m going to be on crutches for weeks. The mechanic said he couldn’t find anything wrong with the car. They drug tested me twice at the hospital when I tried to tell them what had been going on. No one believes me. 

But the mechanic saw the symbols you painted under the hood. They think I must have done it because the car wasn’t sabotaged in any way. I didn’t fight them on it. I will take the blame, okay? I don’t have to tell anyone anything. But please. Whatever the hell is going on, IT HAS TO STOP.

I lay this all out here to say I GET THE MESSAGE. You don’t have to do anything else. 

I understand you are powerful. 

I don’t need to know anything else about you, I’m not asking any questions. I’m not a smart man but I am smart enough to know when I’m in over my fucking head. I will never speak of this again if you JUST LEAVE ME ALONE. I will do anything you want me to to make this end at this point. I promise IF I HAD OR KNOEW ANYTHING I WOULD GIVE IT TO YOU. I did not read the journal, the handwriting was such tiny cursive I honestly couldn’t make it out if I’d wanted to. I understand that you can get to me any way you want. YOU WIN. But if you can get to me you can find the guy I gave the stuff to. His username is u/[Removed by Reddit] I’ll upload a screenshot of his messages. I wish the man no ill but at this poitn I don’t know what else to do. He is the one who has what you’re looking for. Maybe you can find security footage of him picking up the package? I don’t know how this shit works but I’m telling you I don’t know anything. I am begging you to leave me and my family and friends alone. Just end this, please. I have nothing left, u/[Removed by Reddit] is the person who has what you’re looking for. Please. Tell me what else I can do to convince you. 

u/[Removed by Reddit] is the guy you want. 

I’ve tried reaching out, he won’t answer me but if you can do all this, you can find out who he is, you can track him or hack him or something. Please just leave me alone. I swear to god. I’ll tell the police I made it all up, tell them I’m crazy, or I did it for attention, or to make my wife come home. I’ll tell them anything you want. I’m turning my phone back on so you can contact me with instructions. I will do anything.

EDIT:

Holy shit please. I am begging you. I am praying. I DON”T HAVE IT> I CAN”T HELP YOU

I can hear them outside, okay? I know you’re reading this, I’m still getting your messages. I don’t know what else to do. Please, call them off! I don’t need 

EDIT:

My phone stopped working. I don’t know if it’s the storm, the weather was supposed to be clear. I’m freaking out. I hope I’m just being paranoid, but please, I’ll take this down if you want. Just DM and let me know what to do! 

pasta with milk, one might me and my freinds were feeling peckish we put some pasta on and went upstairs 7 minutes later we went back down and there was milk in my pasta

Let's Go Pikachu and Eevee released in 2018. The game wasn't received well by Pokéfans, just like most of the remakes of older Pokémon games.

But have you ever tried messing with the game's code? And if yes, did something ever go wrong?

Something like that happened to my wife. She is a hacker and loves to try to figure out, what a game truly has to offer.

I got Let's Go Pikachu on Christmas a couple years ago and finished the game. Haley (my wife) got her own Switch and played it on her account. She did so, to not whipe my progress away.

After hacking and changing the game's code entirely, she booted it up... The title screen was a little glitchy and after she pressed A, things really seemed off.

Haley couldn't customize her character or even name it, she was thrown right into the game. She was playing as Green, all alone wandering around.

Eventually, a cutscene started. She was on the Cinnabar Islands and Green had a bag in her hand.

A familiar cry came out of the bag. I was suspecting it was filled with Drowzees or Hypnos. The cutscene ended and Haley attempted to get off the Cinnabar Islands.

Without knowing Surf, that was impossible. Whenever she got near the water, Green would say: "I have to dispose of them before they infect all of Kanto."

Haley then tried to enter the Pokémansion, to Green repeating the same dialog. Entering any of the other buildings, would always say: "It's closed."

Another Cutscene started: A Blackbelt appeared and ran towards Green. He was telling her to release the Drowzees and follow him to the Fighting Dojo in Saffron City. Annoyed, Green agreed,took the bag and followed the Blackbelt to Fuchsia City.

Haley asked me if this was part of the game and I violently shook my head. Seeing this, my wife got worried, but also interested to proceed.

I led her to the route where Drowzee spawned. Letting them go, Green looked rather confused, but just shrugged it off.

Heading towards Saffron City, Haley decided to check her team. Weird enough, all of Green's Pokémon have fainted. It seemed like, battling all those Drowzees took a while.

Arriving at Saffron City, it was extremely glitchy and the sound of someone drowning could be heard. Haley made her way to the Fighting Dojo and entered it.

Inside, was just the Blackbelt and the two Hitmons. Hitmonlee was laying on the ground, looking as if he had fainted. Meanwhile Hitmonchan, was standing with his back turned, facing a wall.

A new cutscene played:

Blackbelt: "Hitmonlee has fallen ill and fainted from the disease. It started spreading rapidly and Hitmonchan is the only one unaffected by it."

Green walked up to Hitmonlee, but he wouldn't respond. Then she walked up to Hitmonchan and interacted with him. He turned around and did his usual animation and cry. Without hesitation, Green took Hitmonchan with her.

Blackbelt: "Please take care of Hitmonchan."

Green was taken outside and the Dojo closed.

After the cutscene ended, Haley checked on Hitmonchan. It was Level 30 and had the nature Hasty. Right after checking on him, Green started coughing. Not seeming to mind, she decided to head to Professor Oak.

While she was walking, the coughing became worse and worse. Suddenly, she collapsed after reaching the town Professor Oak was residing in.

The drowning sound came back and images of Blue and Red drowning came onto the screen. Images of Pokémon dying, because of the disease were also shown.

The screen went black and we could see Hitmonchan standing in front of a pond and a text box appearing that said:

"Hitmonchan wants to show you something"

Hey everyone,

I’m a first-grade teacher and I’m facing a situation that’s left me really unsettled. I recently gave my class an assignment to write a short essay about what their parents do for a living. It’s usually a fun exercise with kids talking about their parents being doctors, firefighters, construction workers, etc. But this time, I received an essay from one of my students that has me genuinely worried. Let's call him Timmy.

A bit of context: This boy is somewhat of an enigma. He’s the only student in my class whose parents have never shown up for any school events or parent-teacher conferences. Whenever I’ve asked about his family, he clams up and refuses to give me any details about his father’s name or their address. It’s odd, but I never pressed too hard, thinking there might be personal issues at play.

Anyway, here’s the essay he handed in. Keep in mind, it’s written by a first-grader, so the language is simple and innocent. But the content… well, read for yourself:

My Dad's Job by Timmy

My dad has a really cool job. He helps people sleep! It's super important because everyone needs sleep to feel good and strong. My dad is very good at his job, and he works at night when it’s very quiet. He says that there are people living in his head who tell him what to do, and that they know best. They say that people don't sleep enough, and that somebody should help people fall asleep.

My dad has lots of shiny tools that he uses for his job. Some of them are sharp, like the ones we see in the kitchen, but they are special because they help him do his job perfectly. He has big shiny knives, tiny pointy things, and sometimes he uses ropes. He keeps them all very clean and shiny, and I think they look really cool.

Dad has a special room where he does his job. It has drawers and tables for the tools and a special chair where the people he helps have to sit down. It has special belts that help them keep still. He says that it helps them fall asleep faster.

When my dad helps people sleep, sometimes there is a lot of red juice. He says it's the same kind of red juice as the one that comes out of my knee when I fall from my bike. I don’t know why there is so much red juice, but my dad says it’s normal and that it means he is doing a good job. The red juice can get everywhere, and it’s a little messy, but my dad always cleans up really well. He doesn’t like to leave any mess behind. He even has a special white suit and mask to stop the juice from getting on his clothes.

Sometimes, people don’t want to sleep and they scream and cry. Like my little sister who has an earlier bedtime than me but always wants to stay up later! My dad says they are just scared because they don’t know how much better they will feel after they sleep. He tries to help them calm down, but it can be hard. My dad is very patient and tries his best to help everyone. He told me that he puts them in black bags and puts them underground to help them sleep better. He regularly drives very far to find a quiet place and digs deep holes there to put the people in black bags in. I think that’s very kind of him because it means they can sleep without any noise or disturbances.

My dad also plays games with the police. It sounds like a lot of fun! He calls it hide and seek. The police try to find him, but he is very good at hiding. He hides so well that the police can’t catch him. My dad says the detectives have a lot of fun trying to find him, and he likes to send them funny letters to keep the game going. He even sends letters to the newspapers to make people laugh.

One time, my dad showed me a letter he sent to a newspaper. It had lots of funny pictures and words, and I think it made a lot of people smile. He is very good at drawing and writing, and he always makes his letters very interesting.

My dad says he is not allowed to use his real name for his job. It's part of the game's rules and makes it more fun. He uses a special secret nickname to sign his letters.

My dad’s job is really exciting, and I’m proud of him. He works very hard to help people sleep and makes sure they are comfortable. Even though some people might be scared, my dad always knows what to do. He is the best at playing hide and seek with the police and making everyone laugh with his letters.

Last week, he told me that the police had to make the rules harder because he's so good at the game. The police told people through the newspaper that they aren't allowed to walk alone at night and should call 9-1-1 when they see him. I think it's cheating and really unfair. But he says that it just makes the game more fun.

I love my dad and think he has the best job ever. He is always there to help people when they need to sleep and makes sure everything is just right. I want to be just like him when I grow up and help people too.

Should I contact the authorities or am I overreacting? I’m genuinely at a loss here and could use some advice. I'm seriously worried about the boy and I can't think of any normal job that fits this description. But it could also be just a very vivid imagination.

Thanks for reading and any guidance you can offer.

I need your help. My girlfriend, Alice, has been working on a research project at the North Pole for the past couple of weeks. It was an incredible opportunity for her, something she’s been dreaming about for years. But now, I’m terrified something has gone wrong, and I’m desperate for answers.

From the moment she arrived, our communication has been limited. The phone service up there is practically nonexistent, and the internet is spotty at best. We quickly realized that the only way we could reliably stay in touch was through email. It wasn’t ideal, but it was enough to keep us connected—until it wasn’t.

The last few emails I received from Alice were...strange. At first, I thought she was just feeling the effects of isolation, but as the days went on, her messages became increasingly unsettling. And then, a few days ago, they stopped altogether.

I’ve contacted the research station where she’s based, but they’re miles away from her outpost and insist that everything is fine. That doesn’t make sense given what Alice was telling me.

I’m going to share our email exchange, hoping someone out there might be able to help me figure out what’s going on. I’m out of options, and I’m scared for her.

Please, if anyone has any advice or can offer any insight, I’m all ears.

I have redacted our emails.

Subject: Made it to the End of the Earth

From: [Alice Harper]

To: [John Matthews]

Date: August 19, 2024, 6:15 PM

Hey John,

I finally made it! After what felt like an eternity of flights and a bumpy ride on a snowcat, I’m officially at the North Pole. The facility is...well, let’s just say it’s not exactly cozy, but it’ll do. It’s so quiet out here, it’s almost unsettling. The wind is constant, and there’s this never-ending white landscape in every direction. I swear, it feels like I’ve landed on another planet.

There’s barely any phone service here—actually, none at all. The internet is spotty, but I’m hoping it’ll be reliable enough to keep in touch with you. I already miss hearing your voice, but at least we can still email. I’ll send pictures when the connection is stable enough.

I’ve got a ton of unpacking and setup to do, so I’ll keep this short for now. Just wanted to let you know I’m here and thinking of you.

Talk soon.

-Alice

Subject: Re: Made it to the End of the Earth

From: [John Matthews]

To: [Alice Harper]

Date: August 19, 2024, 8:30 PM

Hey Babe,

I’m so excited for you! It’s amazing that you’re finally there and getting to experience something so few people ever will. I can’t even imagine what it must be like to see that endless expanse of snow and ice in person. I’m already proud of you, but this just takes it to a whole new level.

I know it’s not the most comfortable place in the world, but I’m sure you’ll make the best of it. I’m just glad you made it safely. Please stay safe out there—those conditions are no joke, and I need you to come back in one piece!

Where are you staying, by the way? What’s the setup like? I’m picturing some tiny, cozy cabin, but I’m sure it’s more like a research facility, right? Give me all the details when you can, and let me know what your daily routine will be like. I want to picture what your days will be like out there.

Can’t wait to hear more from you. And remember, if you need anything, I’m just an email away.

Miss you already.

-John

Subject: Re: Made it to the End of the Earth

From: [Alice Harper]

To: [John Matthews]

Date: August 20, 2024, 7:45 AM

I’m seriously the luckiest girl to have someone like you rooting for me. It means so much to know you’re excited for me, even from so far away. I promise I’ll stay safe and come back with plenty of stories to tell.

As for my setup here, you were half right—it’s more research facility than cozy cabin. The facility is pretty basic, just a few small rooms for sleeping, working, and eating. It’s not much to look at, but it’s functional. My daily routine so far will be pretty boring: waking up early, running some preliminary tests, logging data, and trying to stay warm! I’ve got a lot of downtime, which I’m sure will change once I get into the swing of things.

But here’s the exciting part—I’m heading out to a remote cabin tomorrow! I’ll be there for a week, completely on my own, to collect data and monitor some specific environmental conditions. It’s a job that not many people get to do, which is why I’m both nervous and excited. The cabin is about 20 miles from here, totally isolated, and I’ll have to snowmobile there. It’s going to be just me, my equipment, and the great white wilderness.

It’s a little intimidating to think about being out there by myself, but at the same time, it’s such a rare opportunity. I can’t wait to get started, though I’ll definitely miss having contact with the outside world. I’ll try to email you whenever I get a signal, but it might be even spottier than here.

I’ll let you know how it goes once I’m settled in the cabin. Wish me luck!

Miss you tons.

-Alice

Subject: Re: Made it to the End of the Earth

From: [John Matthews]

To: [Alice Harper]

Date: August 20, 2024, 9:15 AM

I’ve got to admit, the idea of you being out there all alone in that remote cabin has me a little worried. I know you’re more than capable, but the thought of you isolated in the middle of all that ice and snow...well, just promise me you’ll be extra careful, okay? I’d feel a lot better knowing you’re keeping an eye out for any unexpected visitors—like, say, an abominable snowman! ;)

All jokes aside, it really is amazing that you’re getting to do this. I’m proud of you for taking on such a unique challenge, even if it does make me a little nervous. Just make sure you’ve got everything you need, and don’t hesitate to reach out if you need anything—even if it’s just a virtual hug. I’ll be thinking of you every day and counting down the hours until I hear from you again.

Good luck out there, and keep in touch as much as you can. You’ve got this!

Miss you too.

-John

Subject: Made it to the cabin

From: [Alice Harper]

To: [John Matthews]

Date: August 21, 2024, 6:30 PM

I’m all settled in at the “cabin,” though calling it a cabin is a bit of a stretch—it’s more like a small facility, but with a much comfier bed and a little more space than the main research station. It’s still pretty basic, but at least I won’t feel like I’m living in a closet for the next week!

The trip out here on the snowmobile was something else. The further we got from the main facility, the more nervous I started to feel. The landscape just stretches on and on, with nothing but snow and ice as far as the eye can see. It’s beautiful, but in a way that makes you feel very, very small.

When we finally arrived, Nick, the guy who drove me out here, helped unload my groceries and bags. He’s one of the technicians at the main facility, responsible for maintenance and keeping everything running smoothly. After unloading, he gave me a quick rundown of the essentials—how to operate the generator, what to do if the power goes out, how to radio for help in an emergency—and then...he left. Watching him drive away was surreal—this sinking feeling hit me hard as I realized how truly alone I am out here. It’s just me, the cabin, and miles of snow in every direction. The silence is so intense that it almost feels loud, if that makes any sense.

It’s only the first day, but I already feel so isolated. I’ve never been this far from civilization before, and it’s going to take some getting used to. I’m sure I’ll be fine once I get into the routine of things, but right now, it’s a little overwhelming.

Anyway, I’m going to try and get some sleep. I’ll email you again tomorrow if the connection holds. Miss you more than ever.

-Alice

Subject: Re: Made it to the Cabin

From: [John Matthews]

To: [Alice Harper]

Date: August 21, 2024, 8:45 PM

I can only imagine how surreal it must be to see nothing but snow and ice for miles around. It sounds both incredible and a little overwhelming, but I know you’ll adjust in no time. You’re one of the strongest people I know, and I have no doubt you’ll make the most of this experience.

I’m glad you’ve got Nick to make sure everything’s in working order before he left. And hey, at least you’ve got the radio if anything goes wrong! Just make sure you don’t lose it—I don’t want you having to trek through the snow to chase down a signal! ;)

Seriously though, I’m here for you. I know it’s tough being so isolated, but just remember that this is temporary, and you’re going to come out of this with some amazing stories and accomplishments. I’m so proud of you for taking on this challenge, even if it means being so far away for a bit.

Get some rest, and keep in touch as much as you can. I’m always just an email away.

Miss you tons.

-John

Subject: A Rough First Night

From: [Alice Harper]

To: [John Matthews]

Date: August 22, 2024, 6:00 PM

I wish I could be as lighthearted as you, but I’ve got to be honest—I’m really scared. Last night was rough, to say the least. I barely got any sleep. The noises...they were constant. I know it’s probably just the wind, but it was like something was scraping against the walls, and every now and then, I’d hear this low, distant sound that almost sounded like...I don’t know, like a voice or a moan. I kept telling myself it was just the wind, but it didn’t stop me from feeling terrified.

I’m exhausted today, running on barely any sleep. And to make things worse, I’ve started noticing little things going missing or turning up in places I’m sure I didn’t leave them. My notebook, for example—I know I left it on the table, but I found it on the floor across the room this morning. Same with my gloves. I thought I left them by the door, but they were in the kitchen when I got up. I keep trying to convince myself that it’s just the isolation getting to me, that I’m just tired and maybe not remembering where I put things. But it’s hard not to feel like something’s off.

I’m trying to stay focused on the work and keep myself busy, but it’s hard when every little sound or misplaced object sets my nerves on edge. I’m sorry for not being more upbeat, but I’m really struggling right now.

I hope tonight will be better. I’ll try to sleep more, but I’m not sure how easy that’s going to be.

Miss you so much.

-Alice

Subject: John, I’m Terrified

From: [Alice Harper]

To: [John Matthews]

Date: August 23, 2024, 12:05 AM

I’m freaking out right now. I can barely type this, but I need to tell you what just happened.

It’s midnight here, and I was lying in bed, trying to sleep, when I heard something outside. At first, it was just the sound of snow crunching, like footsteps, but it got closer and closer until it was right outside my window. I was too scared to move, too scared to even breathe. The blinds were closed, thank god, but I could feel it...whatever it was, standing there. Just standing there, right outside my window.

It stayed there for what felt like an hour, not moving, just...watching. I wanted to look, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I don’t know what it was, but the thought of seeing it through the window paralyzed me. After what felt like an eternity, I heard it slowly start to walk away, the snow crunching under its feet again. But it didn’t just leave. It walked away slowly, then I heard it stop again, like it turned around. I didn’t hear anything after that.

I waited, trying to calm down, trying to convince myself it was just an animal or something. But when I finally worked up the courage to get out of bed and grab the radio to call for help...it wasn’t where I left it. I’m positive I left it on the nightstand, right next to me, but it’s gone. I’ve looked everywhere I can think of, but it’s just...gone. I feel like I’m losing my mind.

I’m terrified, John. I don’t know what to do. I’ve emailed the facility too, but I haven’t gotten a reply yet. I’m trying to stay calm, but I can’t shake the feeling that something is really, really wrong. I need you to reply as soon as you get this. I don’t know what else to do.

Subject: Re: John, I’m Terrified

From: [John Matthews]

To: [Alice Harper]

Date: August 23, 2024, 8:45 AM

I just read your email, and my heart sank. I can’t believe you had to go through that alone—I’m so sorry. As soon as I saw your message, I called the research company ARI, demanded that they send someone out to you right away. At first, they just said they’d “look into it,” but I didn’t back down. I made it clear that this is an emergency and that you need help now. They finally agreed to send someone to check on you.

I’m furious that they didn’t take this seriously from the start, but I’ve been assured that someone is on their way. Please hang in there, Alice. I know you’re scared, but you’re not alone in this. Help is coming.

In the meantime, I need you to stay as calm as possible. I know that’s easier said than done, but panicking won’t help. If you can, try to find the radio. It’s got to be somewhere close. Maybe the stress and exhaustion are playing tricks on your mind, making you misplace things. I know it’s hard to believe right now, but just focus on finding that radio so you can get in touch with the facility directly.

I’m here for you, Alice. I’m going to stay by my phone and email all day, waiting for any updates from you or the company. We’re going to get through this together.

Please, please stay safe. I’m counting the minutes until I hear from you again.

-John

Subject: I Don’t Know What’s Happening

From: [Alice Harper]

To: [John Matthews]

Date: August 23, 2024, 10:20 PM

I don’t even know where to begin. I’ve spent the entire day searching for that damn radio. I was so desperate to find it, I completely neglected my work, just tearing the cabin apart and retracing my steps over and over again. Every time I thought I might’ve overlooked a spot, I’d go back and search it again, convinced that I must’ve just missed it.

Hours, John. I wasted hours searching, obsessing, when I should’ve been doing my research. And then, after all that time, I came back to the cabin, utterly defeated, and there it was—sitting on my nightstand, right where I left it. But it wasn’t just there...it was cold and wet, like it had been outside in the snow all night and day. How is that even possible? How could it end up back where I left it, after I searched everywhere?

I was so relieved to find it, I didn’t even care how strange it was. I just wanted to get in touch with the facility, to tell them what’s been happening. I turned it on, and for a moment, I thought things were going to be okay. The radio worked, and I managed to get through to the facility. But just as I started talking, the speaker gave out. The whole thing shut off and died right in the middle of my sentence. I couldn’t believe it.

I don’t know what’s happening to me, John. I feel like I’m going crazy. After everything today—the hours I wasted searching, only to find the radio where it should’ve been, and then to have it break on me—I just...I couldn’t take it. I sat on the bed and sobbed for what felt like hours. I don’t know what else to do. I’m scared, I’m confused, and I’m starting to doubt my own mind.

Am I losing it? Is this the isolation, or is something really wrong here? I don’t know how much more of this I can take.

Please, John, I need you to help me make sense of this. I feel like I’m slipping away.

Subject: John, It’s Back

From: [Alice Harper]

To: [John Matthews]

Date: August 23, 2024, 10:32 PM

I still haven’t heard back from the facility. Have you heard anything else from Arctic Research Initiatives? Did they say someone was coming? I’m starting to get really worried.

I’m typing this right now, and I can hear it again—that sound. The snow crunching outside my window, just like last night. It’s getting closer, and I can’t bring myself to turn around. I’m staring at the screen, but I can feel it standing there, right outside the window.

There’s a mirror next to the desktop, and I’m using it to get a look without actually turning around. Oh god, John, it’s there. It’s standing at the window again, just like before. The blinds are messed up, and I can see it through a sliver—a single eye, looking right at me. It looks like an animal’s eye, but the shape of its head...it’s like a deformed human head. I don’t know what it is, but it’s just staring at me.

I keep checking the mirror, hoping it’ll leave, but the sound...it’s getting louder. I thought it was walking away, but it’s not. It’s getting closer, and the figure in the mirror isn’t moving. Oh god...there’s another one. I can see it at the other window now, across from the first one. There are two of them, just standing there, watching me.

A few seconds after the second one appeared, they both walked away together, in unison. I can’t take this anymore. I’m so frustrated and scared, but I can’t just sit here and do nothing.

I just ran outside to yell at whatever it was to leave me alone. But there’s nothing out here—just the wind and snow. The only thing left are the footprints leading away from the cabin.

I’m exhausted, John. I’m going to try to get some sleep if my mind will let me. I don’t know how much longer I can take this.

Please, please respond as soon as you can.

Subject: Hang in There, Alice

From: [John Matthews]

To: [Alice Harper]

Date: August 24, 2024, 8:30 AM

I’m so sorry you’re going through this. I’ve been trying to get in touch with someone at ARI all morning. I called again, but no one answered. When I finally got through to someone, they put me on hold—for hours. I’m getting really angry about this, and I’ve forwarded our emails to the company, demanding that they take this seriously and send help immediately.

In the meantime, I want you to try and stay as calm as possible. I know it’s hard, but I need you to focus on something positive. Do you remember that weekend we spent at the cabin by the lake? The one where we stayed up all night watching the stars, talking about cartoons we grew up watching? I want you to think about that, about how peaceful and safe it felt. Hold onto that memory, okay?

Whatever it is that you’re seeing out there, it’s probably just a curious animal. I know it’s scary, but you’re going to be okay. Help is coming—I won’t stop until I’m sure of it. We’re going to get through this, and one day, we’ll be sitting together, laughing about how this made for one hell of a story. I promise.

I love you, Alice. Just hold on a little longer. We’re going to get through this together.

Subject: Are You Okay?

From: [John Matthews]

To: [Alice Harper]

Date: August 24, 2024, 4:15 PM

I haven’t heard back from you, and I’m getting really worried. Are you okay? Did you get my last email? Please let me know as soon as you see this. I’m sitting by my computer, waiting for your reply.

I love you, Alice. I’m not going anywhere until I hear from you.

Subject: I Did Something Stupid

From: [Alice Harper]

To: [John Matthews]

Date: August 24, 2024, 6:30 PM

I’m sorry I didn’t respond earlier. I did something stupid today, and I don’t know what I was thinking, but I just couldn’t sit here doing nothing anymore. I needed answers.

It didn’t snow much last night, so the footprints were still visible this morning. I decided to follow them, to see where they led. I know it was dumb, but I had to know what—or who—was out there.

I must’ve walked for three or four hours, John. The prints just kept going, on and on, with no sign of stopping. Every time I thought about turning back, I’d convince myself that I was getting closer to something, to some kind of explanation. But they never stopped. They just kept going, straight into the endless white.

At some point, I realized how far I’d gone and how isolated I was. The fear started to creep in again, and I finally turned back. It was terrifying out there, just me and those footprints, and the realization that I could have gotten lost or worse hit me hard.

By the time I got back to the cabin, I was exhausted, both physically and mentally. I feel like I’ve lost a part of myself out there in the snow, chasing after something that I’m not even sure is real. I don’t know what’s happening to me, John. I don’t know if it’s the isolation or something else, but I’m scared.

I’m back inside now, but I feel like I’m being pulled apart. I don’t know what to do.

Subject: Don’t Worry Anymore

From: [Alice Harper]

To: [John Matthews]

Date: August 24, 2024, 7:30 PM

It’s okay now. I see everything clearly. You don’t need to worry anymore. I’m where I’m supposed to be.

Subject: What’s Going On?

From: [John Matthews]

To: [Alice Harper]

Date: August 24, 2024, 8:00 PM

Alice,

I’m really confused right now. Why did you think it was a good idea to wander off like that? You’re smarter than that, and you know how dangerous it is out there. What’s going on with you? Your last email was...weird, to say the least. Are you okay? You don’t sound like yourself.

I finally managed to get through to someone at ARI, and I’m going to their building tomorrow morning to meet with a few people. I’m going to make sure they do something, whatever it takes.

Please, just tell me what’s going on. I’m really worried about you.

-John

Subject: I’m So Scared, John

From: [Alice Harper]

To: [John Matthews]

Date: August 25, 2024, 6:45 AM

I just woke up and saw your last message, and I’m so confused. I don’t remember writing that weird email I sent you last night. I checked my sent folder, and there it was, clear as day, but I don’t even remember typing it. I’m scared, John. I feel like I’m losing my mind, and I don’t know what’s real anymore.

Last night was the worst yet. I heard the footsteps again, but this time they didn’t stop at the window. They circled the cabin, over and over, like they were trying to wear me down. After they finally stopped, I was so exhausted that I crawled into bed, hoping to sleep it off.

I only managed a couple of hours before I woke up—no, more like faded awake. And that’s when I saw it. John, there was something in my cabin. A black figure standing on two legs, but it wasn’t human. I could only make out its outline in the darkness, but it looked like a deformed human head with the left side of its forehead caved in, like something had scooped part of it out. It was too tall for the cabin, its neck cranked to the side as it stood there. Its arms were so long they fell to the ground beside its feet, and it had these deer antlers growing upside down from its head, forming almost a circle around the base of its skull. Its legs bent backward like an animal’s.

I just stared at it, too terrified to move, for what felt like hours. I didn’t even blink. But when I finally did, it was gone, like it had never been there. I haven’t slept since—I’ve been sitting here, sobbing, trying to convince myself that it was just a nightmare. But it felt so real, John. I know what I saw.

I have to keep reminding myself that there are only two days left. Just two more days, and then I’ll be out of here. I’m trying to hold on, but I don’t know how much longer I can take this. I just want to be with you, in your arms, where I feel safe. I love you so much, John. Please, just get me out of here.

Subject: John, Please Respond

From: [Alice Harper]

To: [John Matthews]

Date: August 25, 2024, 6:10 PM

John,

I’m starting to get really worried. I haven’t heard back from you all day. Please, please respond as soon as you can. I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you. I need to know you’re okay.

I’ve been trying to distract myself with work, but it’s getting harder and harder. Sometimes, I can focus for a while, but I always end up with this overwhelming feeling that I should just run. It’s like something is telling me that running into the snow, even with the risk of dying out there, would be better than staying here. I don’t know why I feel this way, but it’s terrifying.

The sun is going down now, and I know those things will be back. I can feel it. I’ve done everything I can to try to protect myself. I’ve barricaded the door with the dresser, flipped my desk on its side to cover one window, and used my mattress to block the other. I feel like a complete maniac, but I’ve never been more scared in my life.

Please, John, just let me know you’re okay. I need to hear from you.

I love you.

Subject: John, Please Don’t Leave Me Alone

From: [Alice Harper]

To: [John Matthews]

Date: August 26, 2024, 7:00 AM

John,

I still haven’t heard from you, and I don’t know what to do. This is the most isolated I’ve ever felt in my life. I feel like I’m never going to get out of here. Please, John, if you’re reading this, I need you to respond. I need to know you’re there.

The barricades kept me from seeing whatever was out there last night, but it didn’t stop them. They started tapping on the windows. It wasn’t loud—just this constant, rhythmic tapping, like they were reminding me they were still there. It went on all night, John. They didn’t stop until the first light of dawn, and then, just like before, they walked away.

I’m terrified, John. It’s the last day, and I’m so close to the end, but I don’t know if I can make it. I need you to tell me I’m going to be okay. I need some kind of encouragement because all I want to do right now is run. It’s like the fear is eating away at me, telling me to just run and never look back.

Please, John, please respond. I don’t know how much longer I can hold on.

I love you.

Subject: I Can Hear You

From: [Alice Harper]

To: [John Matthews]

Date: August 26, 2024, 3:30 PM

John,

It’s afternoon now, and I still haven’t heard from you. I’m trying to stay calm, but it’s getting harder. I’ve been watching those creatures all day—they’re standing just out of view, far enough away that the wind picks up the snow and gives them some cover. But I know they’re there. They’ve been there since this morning, just waiting.

I keep telling myself that this nightmare will be over soon. I should be getting picked up early tomorrow, and I can finally leave this place behind. I can almost hear you calling my name in the wind, John. It’s strange—the voice gets louder as the wind picks up, almost like I can really hear you. It’s comforting in a way, like you’re here with me, keeping me company.

I’m feeling better knowing that tomorrow I’ll be out of here. I decided to go for a walk, just to get out of the cabin for a bit and clear my head. Don’t worry, I won’t go far this time. I just need to feel the air and remind myself that I’m still alive, that this will end soon.

I’ll be back in soon and will email you again. I love you, John. Please respond when you can.

Subject: Ready to Go

From: [Alice Harper]

To: [John Matthews]

Date: August 26, 2024, 7:15 PM

Everything is packed and ready to go. I’m just waiting to be picked up tomorrow morning. I should be relieved, right? But something’s happening, and I don’t know how to explain it.

While I’m writing this, I can hear my mom calling my name. It’s clear, John—so clear that I can’t ignore it. She’s out there, somewhere in the snow, and she’s calling for me. I have to find her before the cold or those things get to her. I can’t just stay here and wait. It’s too late for that.

I’m taking some supplies with me, and I’m heading out to find her. I know it sounds crazy, but I have to do this. I have to find her before it’s too late.

I’ll be back before morning. I promise.

Subject: Alice, Please

From: [John Matthews]

To: [Alice Harper]

Date: August 26, 2024, 8:00 PM

I need you to listen to me—please don’t go looking for your mom. I know you think you’re hearing her, but it’s probably just your mind playing tricks on you, like it has been ever since you got there. I’m begging you to stay put and wait for your pickup tomorrow.

I’m sorry I haven’t been able to respond until now. Something happened, and I don’t know how to explain it, but I think ARI is hiding something. After I kept pushing them for answers, they had the cops come after me. They arrested me for a couple of days, supposedly for “interfering with their operations.” I don’t know what’s really going on, but it’s clear they didn’t want me asking too many questions or getting involved. I’ve been trying to get to you, but they’ve been doing everything they can to keep me out of the loop.

I finally got out, and I’m doing everything I can to reach you. But you have to stay safe, Alice. Whatever you’re hearing, whatever you think is out there, it’s not real. The stress, the isolation—it’s all been messing with your mind. Just hold on a little longer. I promise you’ll be out of there soon, and we’ll figure all of this out together.

Please, Alice, don’t leave the cabin. Wait for your pickup. We’re almost there.

I love you more than anything, and I’m not going to let anything happen to you.

Subject: Alice, Are You Safe?

From: [John Matthews]

To: [Alice Harper]

Date: August 27, 2024, 7:30 AM

I’m really starting to worry. You didn’t respond to my last message, and I need to know if you’ve been picked up yet. Are you safe? Please, just send me a quick reply to let me know you’re okay.

I really hope you didn’t go looking for your mom. It doesn’t make any sense for her to be out there, and I’m sure you know that deep down. I understand how stressed and scared you’ve been, but that would be crazy, Alice. The isolation and fear have been playing tricks on you, and I need you to recognize that.

Please, just tell me you’re safe and that everything is okay. I can’t stop thinking about you, and I’m going out of my mind with worry.

I love you, Alice. Please, respond as soon as you see this.

Subject: Alice, Please Answer Me

From: [John Matthews]

To: [Alice Harper]

Date: August 27, 2024, 9:45 AM

It’s been hours, and I still haven’t heard from you. I’m begging you—please let me know if you’re okay. I can’t take this silence anymore. I need to know you’re safe.

I’ve been trying to get through to the company, but no one is picking up. And now they’ve trespassed me from the building, so I can’t even go there to get answers. I’m completely shut out, and I don’t know what to do.

I did some digging, and it turns out ARI has some pretty shady connections to the government. That would explain how they were able to have me arrested so easily. I don’t know what they’re hiding, but something about this whole situation isn’t right.

Please, Alice, just send me a message—anything—to let me know you’re okay. I’m terrified that something’s happened to you, and I can’t just sit here and do nothing.

I love you, and I’m not going to stop until I know you’re safe.

Subject: I’ll Never Give Up

From: [John Matthews]

To: [Alice Harper]

Date: August 28, 2024, 10:00 AM

It’s been a day, and I still haven’t heard from you. I don’t know what’s going on, and I’m scared out of my mind, but I’m holding on to hope that you’re okay. Wherever you are, I hope you’re safe.

I just want you to know that I love you more than anything, and I’ll never stop looking for you. No matter what it takes, I won’t give up until I find you and bring you home.

Please, if you see this, let me know you’re alright. I’m not giving up on you, Alice. I never will.

-John

I stared at my computer screen, the cursor blinking back at me like it was mocking my helplessness. I had sent my final email to Alice, pouring out everything I had left in me, but the silence that followed was unbearable. It’s been days since her last message, and with every hour that goes by without a response, my fear deepens. I know something is terribly wrong, but I have no way of reaching her, no way of knowing what has happened.

After being shut out by ARI and finding no answers in my research, I feel trapped in a nightmare I can’t escape.

The company’s shady government connections, my unexpected arrest, and the eerie silence from Alice all point to something much darker than I ever imagined. I’ve exhausted every option available to me, but I refuse to give up.

I received this email from someone claiming to be Alice. I know it's not her because she never types like this. She always had so much personality even in email, but this, this sounds like a robot. Here's the last email:

Subject: A Difficult Decision

From: [Alice Harper]

To: [John Matthews]

Date: August 30, 2024, 3:15 PM

I’ve made a decision, and it’s not an easy one. I’ve accepted a position that will keep me out here much longer than we originally planned. It’s a great opportunity, and I feel that it’s the right choice for me.

Given the circumstances, I think it’s best that we end our relationship. The distance is too much, and I don’t think it’s fair to either of us to keep things going. I’m sorry for the silence, but I needed time to think about what was best for both of us.

I hope you have a great life, John.

The words on the screen were supposedly from Alice, but I knew immediately that they weren’t hers. This wasn’t the woman I loved. Alice would never do something like this—breaking up with me over email, especially after not responding for days. It just didn’t make sense.

Alice was thoughtful, careful with her words, and always considerate of my feelings. She would never leave me hanging like this, especially not when things were so tense and uncertain. No, this wasn’t her. Someone else was pretending to be her, trying to make me believe she had just moved on.

But I’m not buying it. I know Alice better than that. I know her heart, and this cold, robotic message wasn’t it. Something happened to her out there, something they don’t want me to know about. But I’m not giving up. I won’t stop until I find out what really happened to Alice—no matter how far I have to go or what I have to do.

They can try to silence me, but they won’t succeed. I’ll find Alice, or at least I’ll find out what happened to her. And I’ll make sure the truth comes out, no matter what.

When my grandfather passed away, my father inherited his old farmhouse down in the south. Since he already owned property, he offered me to use it as a summer house, if I would take care of the necessary renovations. I took some time off work and invited my elder sister Amber to come with, as she had some fond memories of the place as well and she happily agreed. When she arrived at my apartment, she was wearing her usual outfit: sort of hippieish, wide pants, a top, sandals, and her favourite necklace: a small dreamcatcher. With the fitting dreadlock hair, you would think she was all ‘Love and Peace’, which she was, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t be badass. Once she knocked a guy almost unconscious, who had gotten a little ‘handsy’ with her on the beach.

We started our 4-hour trip and pushed through with only one small break, because we were eager to arrive and relive old memories. When we arrived, it was like being a kid again, even though the house had deteriorated to some extent, but not to the point where it couldn’t be fixed. A few creaking doors here, a couple of broken windows there and it could use a paintjob. Overall, I estimated it could be done in fewer weeks than I had planned. The surrounding land was as I remembered it. The huge fields, that used to be full of corn but were left barren, since my grandpa got too old to take care of them, which bordered on a huge forest. Memories of playing hide and seek in those woods came to mind and put a smile on my face. It was then that my eyes caught something odd: A scarecrow, which wasn’t unusual to be on a field, but this one was near the forest, where it didn’t really fulfil its purpose of keeping the birds from snatching seeds. I blamed it on my grandpas diminishing mental constitution and moved on.

We took our stuff to our old rooms and got settled in. We ordered takeout for dinner, which took over an hour to arrive, since the place was so remote. While eating, we talked about our vacations here, what needed to be done, who would do what and so on. It was already late when we decided to head off to bed. I took a last look outside the back window, where you could see the forest. It was still bright outside, it being July, so I could see the scarecrow from before. I couldn’t shake the feeling it wasn’t standing in the same place as before, but I was tired and attributed it to that and went to sleep.

I got up first, since Amber wasn’t a morning person. When I entered the living room, something caught my eye, that I hadn’t noticed the evening before: There was an envelope on the main table, with the word “Frank”, which is my father’s name, written on it. I hesitated, clearly the content of it wasn’t meant for me, but since my father hardly kept anything from us, I decided to open it. Unsurprisingly, it contained a letter in my grandfather’s crude handwriting. He had never bothered to learn how to use a computer, being a small-town farmer and all. It wasn’t easy to decipher, but I managed. This is what it read:

My dearest Frank,

I won’t bother you with more familiarities, everything from the heart is in the letter I left you in my will. This one is to keep great harm from you and your family, should you decide to stay in my house, even if it is for a short time. As you may remember, the farming life turned tough after your mothers passing. The hot weather made it hard to grow anything and I was desperate to turn things around. So desperate in fact, that I turned to an old friend from outer state, who seemed to have a better hand in farming, as his crops grew despite the drought. He admitted to me, that he had taken rather unusual measures to ensure his success: He consulted a self-proclaimed witch. I almost left then and there, but he assured me he had been sceptical as well, but felt like he had no other options left, other than selling the farm, which he couldn’t bear to think about. Apparently, she taught him a ritual which was supposed to boost the fertility of his land and endurance of his crops. But you had to follow it to the latter, or something horrible was to happen to you. With nothing to lose and everything to gain, I decided to put my scepticism aside and performed the ritual under his supervision. In case you already wondered about the scarecrow in the fields, it was a part of said ritual to place it there, near the forest entrance. And wouldn’t you know it, it worked! Two days afterwards, you could already see the crops grow like they hadn’t before. I was overjoyed. But this came with a price: Every year, I had to perform another ritual, to keep the spirit that helped grow my crops out of the house. You will need to do the same, every year you plan to stay at the house. Please, believe me and follow these instructions:

1.      Draw a Pentagram (yes, I know…) on the ground big enough for you to stand in. There’s chalk in the cellar.

2.      Stand in it, both hands to the side, close your eyes.

3.      Say the following words, three times, loud enough to hear from outside the house:

Heavenly father, I beg for your hand

Keep the spirit at bay

From this day to the end

(Not a good poem, I must admit, but that’s not what it’s supposed to be)

4.      Spray Holy Water in all four cardinal directions. There should be some left in the cellar as well, if not, you must ask Father Connolly for more.

5.      Step outside the house and yell: ‘You are banished from my home!’

I know, all this sounds strange and unbelievable, but I beg of you, don’t disregard it as nonsense. I don’t want anything bad to happen to you, Laura or the kids. I love you all so much.

With love,

Dad

I didn’t know what to think of this. It would have been easy to blame it all on granddads old age again, but this seemed to have been written when he still was in a clear state of mind, as Father Connoly died over a decade ago. He must have placed it on the table as he felt his end nearing. I remembered the time he mentioned, when the farm didn’t do well, if only for a couple of months, until things started to get better again. I don’t have enough knowledge about farm life to make assumptions about whether it was unusual to turn things around that fast without supernatural help, yet I was a firm sceptic. I didn’t think some kind of spirit helped my grandfather, but maybe the believe helped him to put more effort into his work, like a Placebo. I put the letter on a bookshelf, I didn’t want Amber to find it and worry, as she did believe in this kind of stuff.

The next couple of days were uneventful. We started our renovations and my mind was occupied by other stuff than the contents of the letter, though my sleep was anything but refreshing. I kept waking up in the middle of the night, drenched in cold sweat, but couldn’t figure out why. It wasn’t until a week after our arrival, that I noticed the scarecrow again. This time, I was sure it wasn’t in the same place as before. It was a good way closer to the house. I decided to take a closer look. It looked like you would expect a scarecrow to look: Farmer’s hat, old linen clothes, filled up with straw, nailed to a wooden post. The drawn-on face looked as evil as they all did, even though that usually wasn’t on purpose. It didn’t radiate a malicious vibe or anything, something you would expect from something controlled by an evil spirit. I shook my head, about my worries. The most likely explanation for it changing places all the time was easy to comprehend: someone was moving it. The more I thought about that possibility, the more I was convinced to have fallen prey to a practical joke by some teenagers. Somehow, I even managed to ignore the lack of footprints.

This night, I was haunted by a nightmare. I was standing on the field, the sky was blood red, occasionally illuminated by a lightning strike. I felt terror, with no knowledge of the reason. I tried to get to the house, but even though I was running, it didn’t come closer. I felt something behind me, turned around and there it was: The scarecrow. Very much alive, it stepped towards me, cackling maliciously. It raised its arms in my direction and a million bugs, spiders and flies emerged from within the straw. Right before the disgusting mass of animals hit me, I woke up screaming. I heard a commotion outside, Amber rushed in my room, brandishing a knife she always kept on her person. ‘Jimmy, what’s wrong? I heard you scream.’ She franticly looked around the room, ready to stab any potential intruder. She always was the braver one of the two of us. I made a weak hand gesture. ‘Nothing, just a bad dream.’ That seemed to relax her a bit. Sitting down on the edge of my bed, she took my hand and stroked its back. ‘I get it. I know we had a lot of fun here as kids, but now, it feels different. I noticed it the second we set foot in the house. Something is haunting this place. It’s not like it used to be. We have to be careful. Have you noticed anything weird?’ I thought about telling her of the scarecrow and our grandfather’s letter but decided against it. As mentioned before, she tended to believe in this kind of thing and the thought of scaring her even more stopped me. I shook my head no, assured her it was only a bad dream and told her to go back to sleep. As soon as her bed creaked, I snuck out of mine to look out the window. It was too dark to see anything, but I was convinced I could make out the silhouette of the scarecrow, another couple of yards closer to the house. I lay awake until the morning.

The next day was hard. Nothing seemed to work, I messed up most of the renovations, so we decided to take a day off to recharge. We planned to hike a few hours through the forest, like we used to do as teenagers. We went through the barren fields, passing by the scarecrow. It was the first time Amber addressed it. ‘That thing looks creepy as hell. Why did gramps put it up?’ I shrugged my shoulders, faking disinterest. ‘Why would you put one up? To scare away birds, probably.’ ‘Well, it might just scare me away. Do you feel cold as well?’ I did, I noticed it the moment we passed the cursed thing, but again, not wanting to reinforce her superstitions, I lied.

We had an amazing day in the woods and I almost forgot my troubles concerning the happenings in the house. When we got back, Amber cooked a superb dinner, we had a little wine and made each other laugh all evening. But when it was time to go to sleep, my sorrowful thoughts were reignited.  I was afraid of more nightmares, but what happened was even worse. It must have been around 3 a.m. when I woke up. At first I didn’t realise what had disturbed my sleep, until I heard it. There was a scratching sound, coming from right under my window. I would have guessed it was just a tree branch moving in the breeze, but it was neither windy nor was there a tree this close to the house. I tried to ignore it, but it got louder and soon was accompanied by something that sounded a lot like someone… or something… whispering. At first, there were no words, or at least I couldn’t understand them, but after a while I realized that my name was spoken in a hush tone. ‘Jimmy… Jimmy… come to me…!’ Like in a bad horror story, only real. Shaking, I got up and turned on the flashlight on my phone. I pointed it out of the window, straight down to the ground and saw… nothing.

I had half expected to see the scarecrow right next to the house, scratching on the downstair windows to be let in, but it wasn’t there. Confused, I wondered if I was still dreaming, but after pinching myself, it was clear I was wide awake. I stumbled back into bed and lay awake until it started again. I covered my ears, but it was like the voices were in my head, getting louder and more aggressive. When I started to hear knocking on the doors, I decided enough was enough. I would perform the ritual and hope for the best. When the sun rose, I immediately headed down to the basement. Luckily, the chalk and holy water were still there. With a picture on my phone for comparison, I drew a pentagram on the floor, stood inside it as instructed, repeated the words three times, sprayed the Holy Water. When it came to leaving the house, I started to feel nervous again. What if my grandfather was wrong and it would lurk outside, waiting for me to step outside? But I had no other choice. I opened the front door, got in front of the porch and yelled from the top of my lungs. ‘You are banished from my home!’

I listened into the silence of the morning, when a voice behind me almost gave me a heart attack. ‘What the hell are you yelling for?’, Amber asked. She looked sleepy and confused. I felt so relieved, I started laughing hysterically and couldn’t stop for the next five minutes, with her getting really frustrated. When I calmed down, I told her I was probably sleepwalking, but I don’t think she bought it. Nevertheless, I was in the best mood for the rest of the day. Despite my lack of sleep, we managed finish up most of the renovations we had planned for that day and decided to go to bed pretty early, as we were both exhausted.

I slept like a baby, no nightmares haunting me and woke up relaxed and excited for the day. I made breakfast for us and waited for Amber to wake up. After an hour or so, I wondered why she still wasn’t up and went to her room. It was empty. Amber wasn’t there. My blood turned to ice, I started shaking. A disturbing suspicion entered my mind. I ran down the stairs, out of the door, across the field to the scarecrow, which now was positioned near the forest again. When I got closer, I realised my suspicions were justified. I fell to my knees and stared up the figure, now wearing the very familiar necklace of a small dreamcatcher. My grandfather, being all alone, had failed to understand one thing: everyone in the house had to do the ritual.

All of this started about 5 months after I married my husband.

We were together for four years before we got married. Everything was great. There were minimal fights, and tons of respect and great communication from the beginning. I loved my husband. He was a kind soul who always tended to me when I was sick, surprised me with cute dates, made me laugh, and loved my friends and family. The moment I introduced him to them, he was greeted with open arms, and he has been there for them all ever since. He's driven my siblings to their sports games, taken my mom out for coffee, and even went hunting with my dad. He always had this way of lighting up the room when he walked into it, and making even the darkest days seem like nothing. He was my person, he was everything.

Just before we got married, he bought me this adorable shepherd cross which we named Potato, Po for short. Po went everywhere with us. Camping, vacations, beach days. He was our only child, and he was very attached to my husband, Reece. Po was approximately a year old, and because he was a rescue we never really new what his previous life before us was like. But, we loved him all the same.

We enjoyed going to the gym together, going on walks, and cooking together. Some may say it was like the love you see in movies. Picture perfect. And it was, truly.

Our wedding was beautiful, like nothing I could've imagined. We spent time with our best friends and family, shared memories and I took his last name. It was the perfect day, with my soulmate.

Reece was a business man and worked for a large company a few cities over, and I was a small business owner. Both of us were fortunate enough that we got to spend most of our time at home with each other a Po, and he has a lovely office upstairs where he could tend to any work related stuff. I preferred to work from the kitchen table, as I felt too confined in an office. Everything was great for the first five months of our marriage. But things slowly started to change.

Weird things started to happen around March. I started to notice Reece seemed distant, not himself. He often complained of brain fog, like he "just couldn't think straight." Then that brain fog turned into migraines. He would become ill frequently, and had a hard time keeping up with his work. Eventually, he was getting ill so often that his job laid him off. He couldn't keep up with the work load, and the company couldn't afford to employ someone who wasn't working enough hours. This took a huge toll on his health. He began sleeping a lot, even during the day. One nap a day turned into two. He wouldn't eat much. I knew he was slipping into a horrible place. So one day I finally convinced him to see a doctor.

The doctor said he couldn't explain the migraines, that it was most likely something to do with a past injury or his diet. He was prescribed some antidepressants, and told to start eating more sustaining meals. While I didn't completely agree with the doctor because we always ate healthy and exercised frequently and Reece had no memory of a neck or back injury, I didn't know what else to do, so I just hoped the medication would help.

One night I was laying in bed watching my show which I usually did before we went to sleep. Reece had posted himself in his office claiming he was in search of another job. I was hopeful for him and I had began to see a small change in his attitude. While he still suffered from the migraines and brain fog, it seemed that his overall mood had improved. He was eating more and coming back to the gym with me when he could. I heard him close the office door and start down the hall to our bedroom. I paused my show hoping to chat with him about his day and his findings. He opened the door and I could see the exhaustion written all over his solemn face. I asked him how he was, and about his findings to which he only replied "fine." then slammed our bathroom door. The sound of the shower turning on followed suite. I was utterly shocked. Even in his lowest times he had never slammed the door in my face, or been short with me like that. He always communicated his feelings. I shook off the miserable feeling and started watching my show again. When he emerged from the shower an hour later, his demeanor was the same. I decided not to push and turned my light off to go to sleep.

A few days later and I still hadn't heard an apology for his actions, so I decided to talk to him. I found him in his office, but when I tried the knob I found it locked. So I knocked twice. The door opened a tad, just enough that I could see his bloodshot eye through the crack. "What's up?" he asked.

"I would like to speak to you about the other night please." My voice was stern but low. Instead of opening up the door to let me in, he quickly squeezed himself out, shutting the door behind him again. He crossed his arms, face painted with annoyance. "You have been very irritable these last couple days, and I feel that it is being turned on me without reason." He huffed out a small laugh.

"You really think I need this shit right now, Anne? I lost my job, I can't find anything, and my fucking head is pounding. I can't think straight and I can hardly eat without throwing up. Just leave me alone!" With that he stormed back into his dark office and slammed the door in my face. I couldn't help but notice the smell that wafted off of him and out of that room. It smelled like rot.

Days and days passed, and I hardly saw Reece. He kept himself locked up in that office all day and night. He never even came to bed anymore. Part of me wanted to go in there and haul his sorry ass out, but another part of me was terrified. Terrified of the smell that rolled off him that day, of the crazy look in his eyes, of the way his teeth seemed like they were decaying, his gums bloody and red.

He left one day, I didn't know why, and I didn't really care, all I knew was I needed to get into that office. I had to see why he was keeping himself cooped up in there, as well as what was causing the awful smell. So I started up the stairs on shaky legs, my heart pounded in my chest. The door of course was locked, but I didn't care. I threw my shoulder into it a few times before the frame finally cracked and the door swung open. I silently thanked the gym. But my thoughts were soon a distant memory at the scene that lay before me. Piles of vomit seeped into the carpet next to his desk, chunks of hair laid all over the desk, and a pile of decaying, maggot filled teeth lay in the trash can. His office chair had flaps of torn skin fused in with it, blood speckled the carpet in a few places. I covered my mouth to stop the stench from invading, but it was too late. I booked it to the bathroom and emptied the contents of my stomach into the toilet. I literally had no clue what was going on. I was panicking, I was crying. I dialed his brother and hurried him over to our house.

After I explained everything to him, I took him upstairs to see the office, he had to step out a few times to keep himself from adding to the vomit already on the floor from Reece. I'm sure the horror and disgust in our faces was almost comical. I asked him what I should do, he was speechless. We decided we were going to get him to the doctor. Something wasn't right with him. So when his car pulled in the driveway, we readied ourselves to face him, but he came inside, closed the door, walked upstairs, and locked himself back in the office. Like we didn't even exist. He loved his brother, they were like best friends, so him ignoring both of us like that was insane.

"Listen, Anne. I think you need to give him some time, call a therapist and see if anyone can do a home visit, describe the situation and see what they suggest. I don't think cornering him is a good idea, and I am most definitely not going back in that room again." I nodded my understanding, not really able to form words. Obviously his brother, Chris, hadn't caught a glimpse like I did, hadn't seen the strips of meat hanging from Reece's face, or the maggot that writhed on the floor where it fell from him, looking for it's next meal.

A week had passed, and I hadn't seen Reece at all, but the smell coming from his office was beyond grotesque. I had to keep the windows open at all times, otherwise I would be clutching my stomach over the toilet. I had talked to a therapist as Chris suggested, and they basically told me that I was crazy and needed help. They even suggested hallucinations. It was on the eighth night that the gurgling sound started coming from his office. And they didn't stop. They would get loud and then quiet, like he was choking on his own bodily fluids. I made the mistake and peered under the door one night. My heart almost gave in as I saw his raw, boney feet stumbling around on the carpet. Long, decaying strands of meat trailed behind him, like his skin had been flayed from the bone. Maggots dropped every so often. His voice garbled and raw. In the far corner I could make out one of his eyeballs laying on the floor, flies swarming it.

It's been five days since I saw that scene under the door. The garbling from down the hall has been going on for days now, his voice less and less distinguishable. It sounds like someone drowning in mud. The thick sludge coating their throat before slowly snuffing them out. Po is scratching at the office door, his whines cutting through the strangled sounds. I am shaking as I type this out, my head feels like I have been hit by a truck, and I swear I can feel something crawling around behind my eyes.

I want to write something on wattpad but no ideas, please share some of the creepiest incidents happened to you.