272: Episode 272 | "If You Hear This in Your Apartment, Leave!" + 2 Other Scary Stories

Ready to launch your business? Get started with the commerce platform made for entrepreneurs. Shopify is specially designed to help you start, run, and grow your business with easy customizable themes that let you build your brand, marketing tools that get your products out there, and integrated shipping solutions that actually save you time from startups to scale-ups online, in person, and on the go. Shopify is made for entrepreneurs like you. Sign up for your one-year Oprah month trial at Shopify.eu. Welcome to Creepscast. If you hear this in your apartment, leave. Written by MyraSam79. The moment I stepped into the apartment, it felt right. It was small, yes, but it was mine. After years of moving from one shared space to another, I was ready for something of my own. Even if it was just this modest one-bedroom on the outskirts of the city. the rent was reasonable, the area quiet and best of all, it was a space that I could shape to my liking no more tiptoeing around roommates' habits or schedules, this place was a fresh start the building itself was older, maybe from the 1970s, with the usual quirks of an aging structure the hallway leading to my door smelled faintly of cleaning products and mildew, the paint peeling slightly at the edges, but I figured I could live with it. It added character, I thought. The apartment had a certain charm too. Wooden floors, a decent kitchen, a view of the tree-lined street below. Nothing fancy but comfortable. The first night after I moved in, I went through the usual ritual of unpacking boxes and arranging furniture. The work was exhausting but satisfying. The routine of it kept my mind occupied, and by the time that I finished, I was too tired to do anything but fall into bed. As I lay there staring up at the ceiling, I could hear the muffled sounds of the building around me, the hum of distant traffic, footsteps from the apartments above, and the occasional creak of the walls settling. It was normal. Old buildings made noise, I reminded myself. That's just how it is. But there was one sound that stood out. It was faint and barely noticeable at first. Like a soft, rhythmic pulse. At first I thought it was coming from outside, maybe from the heating system or plumbing. I turned on my side, trying to ignore it. Moving into a new place can be disorienting, especially when you're not used to the sounds of the building. Eventually, exhaustion went out, and I drifted off. The next days were uneventful. I settled into my new routine, going to work, coming home, and slowly making the apartment feel like mine. I found a local cafe down the street, started exploring the neighborhood a bit, and even managed to meet one or two of the neighbors. Everyone was polite, but they kept it themselves. It was exactly what I wanted. Quiet, low-key, and uneventful. But that sound, that faint, rhythmic pulse, it kept coming back. At first, I only noticed it at night, when the apartment was still, and there was nothing else to distract me. I'd be lying in bed, trying to relax, and there it was. A steady, almost mechanical rhythm. like breathing. It was faint enough that I could almost ignore it, but persistent enough that once I noticed it, I couldn't unhear it. One night after a very long day at work, I found myself lying awake again listening to that sound. It seemed to move or maybe it was just my imagination, but I could swear that it wasn't come in from one fixed place. It shifted, first near the bedroom and then closer to the living room, but every time I got up to investigate, it stopped. I checked the windows, thinking maybe it was something outside, but there was nothing out of the ordinary, just the usual sounds of the city, muffled and distant. I started to rationalize it. The building was old after all. Maybe it was something in the walls or the pipes or the ventilation system. I convinced myself that it was something explainable, even though I couldn't quite pinpoint where it was coming from. I told myself that it didn't matter. I just needed to adjust to the quirks of the place. Besides, there was no one else around to notice it, and none of my neighbors had mentioned anything strange. But then one evening, something happened that I couldn't ignore. I had been home for a few hours, scrolling aimlessly on my phone, the faint hum of the TV in the background. The apartment felt cozy, almost comforting, and I was beginning to feel like I was finally settling in. and that's when I heard it again, that same rhythmic sound, but this time it was louder, and for the first time it seemed to follow me. I got up from the couch, thinking maybe that I could track it down. As I walked from the living room to the kitchen, the sound seemed to shift. It was still faint, but now it was more noticeable, like someone softly exhaling just behind me. I paused, turning around expecting to find something, anything that could explain it. But there was nothing. The apartment was empty, just as it had always been. Feeling uneasy, I turned on more lights, as if that would somehow drive away the strange sensation. I checked the vents, the windows, even the floorboards. But there was no obvious source for the sound. It wasn't coming from outside and it wasn't some appliance or a piece of furniture It just existed After a while the sound seemed to fade Leaving me feeling foolish for getting so worked up over something that was probably just the building's plumbing or some other harmless quirk Still that night though, I had trouble falling asleep Every time I closed my eyes, I felt like I was waiting for that sound to come back waiting to hear it again. In the following days I tried to put it out of my mind. I threw myself into work, met up with friends and did anything that I could to avoid being alone in that apartment for too long. But no matter how busy I kept myself, that feeling of unease lingered. The sound didn't go away. It was always there just at the edge of my awareness, especially at night. and then one evening while I was in the middle of cooking dinner I heard it again clear this time as if somebody was standing right behind me breathing steadily just out of sight I stopped what I was doing heart racing and I turned slowly expecting to find someone or something standing in the doorway but again the room was empty This time though, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong This wasn't just the pipes or the walls Something about the way the sound seemed to follow me was too specific Too deliberate I turned off the stove, grabbed my phone and stepped outside for some air For the first time since moving in, I felt genuinely unnerved and that's when I decided that I had to find out what was really going on in this apartment. It wasn't like me to get spooked. I wasn't the type to believe in ghosts or paranormal nonsense and I had never been prone to anxiety or overthinking things. But ever since that night when the sound seemed to follow me from room to room, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was off in the apartment. Rationally, I kept telling myself that there was an explanation. Every old building had its quirks, right? Maybe it was the ventilation system, or maybe the walls were thinner than I thought, and I was just hearing the neighbor's movement somehow. But it wasn't just the sound itself, it was the feeling that came with it, a sensation that wasn't easy to describe, like being observed when you know no one else is there. I started wondering if my mind was playing tricks on me, but the sound was so consistent and so steady, it didn't feel like something that I was imagining. The next day at work, I decided to do some digging. During my lunch break, I searched online for anything about strange noises in apartments. There was the usual results. Old buildings settling, faulty pipes, drafts, and poorly insulated walls, but nothing that matched the specific rhythmic pattern that I was hearing. I kept digging and reading through forums and articles, but I still came up with nothing definitive. I was beginning to think that I was alone in this, that it was just some weird thing about the apartment that I would have to live with, but something in me just couldn't let it go. That evening when I got home, I decided that I would try and trace the source of the sound more methodically. It started almost on cue. As soon as the apartment settled into its evening quiet, there it was. That soft, rhythmic pulse, like somebody was breathing in the background. I stood in the center of the living room trying to pinpoint where it was coming from. It felt louder tonight, or maybe I was just more attuned to it. Either way, it seemed to be everywhere and nowhere all at once. I started walking around the apartment, pausing every few steps to listen. The sound didn't get louder or softer, but it always seemed to be nearby no matter where I stood. I checked the vents, leaning in close, trying to detect anything that might be causing it But there was nothing I pressed my ear against the walls, half expecting to hear a neighbor's TV or a conversation But all I could hear was the steady pulse Growing more frustrated, I moved into the kitchen and turned off all the appliances Maybe the refrigerator or the microwave was emitting some kind of sound that I hadn't noticed before but when everything was off the sound was still there unchanged it wasn't mechanical it was too soft too human next i decided to check the windows again i opened each one listening for any street noise but the sound didn't seem to be coming from outside i even went so far as to stand in the hallway outside my apartment wondering if it was something in the building itself. But as soon as I closed the door behind me the noise disappeared leaving only the usual hum of the building. I stood there for a moment breathing in the stale hallway air trying to think of what to do next. I felt ridiculous. It was just a sound after all. But the longer that it persisted the more it seemed like something that I needed to figure out. not just because it was unsettling but because I couldn't let it go I couldn't live with this constant unnerving presence in my home back inside I resumed my search this time moving into the bedroom it was the one place that I hadn't fully checked yet mostly because I dreaded the idea that the sound might be the strongest where I slept I sat in the middle of the room listening intently and there it was again, faint but steady like it had been all along. I crouched down, checking under the bed and even though I knew there was nothing there the floorboards creaked slightly as I shifted my weight but that rhythmic pulse remained constant. I moved toward the closet next pulling the door open and rifling through my clothes and boxes but there was nothing unusual no hidden vents, no odd wiring, nothing. I sat down on the edge of the bed staring blankly at the wall and feeling defeated. I had tried everything and yet the sound persisted as if it was mocking my attempts to understand it. And then I realized something. I had been trying to track it down physically like it was a problem that I could solve by moving things around or turning off devices. But what if it wasn't something inside the apartment? What if it was something in the apartment's history? The thought made my skin prickle. I didn't like the direction that my mind was going, but I couldn't ignore the fact that nothing that I had done so far had made a difference. I grabbed my laptop and sat at the kitchen table, determined to find out more about the building. It didn't take long to track down basic information. the building was constructed in the early 70s as i had suspected and it had gone through several ownership changes over the years but what caught my attention was an article buried deep in an old local news archive the headline read body discovered weeks after tenant's death in local apartment my heart skipped a beat as i clicked on the link the article was brief a few paragraphs detailing how the body of a middle-aged man had been found in his apartment several weeks after he had passed away. Neighbors had complained about a smell, leading the landlord to enter the unit. By then, the body had decomposed and the man had been dead for nearly a month. I read on, my eyes scanning for details. The article didn't mention which unit the man had lived in, but it did say that the building's ventilation system had been faulty at the time. which had delayed the discovery of the body. For weeks, the man's decomposing body had been releasing gases into the air, and it wasn't until the smell became overwhelming that anybody realized something was wrong. I sat there, staring at the screen, my mind racing. Could it be? Could the strange sound I was hearing be connected to that? It seemed far-fetched, but at the same time, it was the only thing that made any sense. the ventilation system, the pipes, it had to be something left over from that right, some lingering effect of the tragedy that had taken place in the building all those years ago, but even as I tried to convince myself that it was a rational explanation, the thought of it unsettled me deeply, I couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to this, something that I wasn't seeing yet, and as I sat there the rhythmic sound continued steady and unrelenting. It was as if the apartment itself was breathing. After reading that article I couldn't shake the image of the decomposing tenet from my mind. It was disturbing enough that somebody had died alone in this building and had remained undiscovered for weeks but what really gnawed at me was the possibility that I had moved into that very same apartment. and the sound that I had been hearing, like somebody breathing, had felt all too connected to the story. The next morning I decided to take things further. I wasn't satisfied with what I had learned online. I needed to know for sure if this apartment had been the site of that tragedy. I also wanted to know more about who that man had been. Was there something about him that might explain the strange presence that I was feeling? my first step was to visit the building's property management office. I figured they wouldn't give me detailed information about former tenants, but I hoped they might at least tell me more about the apartment itself. I had never met the landlord personally, only dealt with the office staff when signing my lease, but I was determined to get some answers. I walked over to the office, a small, unimpressive space tucked behind the main building, the receptionist at the front desk glanced up as I entered giving me the bored detached look of somebody who had dealt with too many tenant complaints I cleared my throat and tried to sound casual hi I live in apartment 6b I said leaning on the counter I was wondering if you could tell me anything about the history of the unit I'm just curious about who lived there before me she frowned slightly typing something into her computer is there a problem with the unit she asked without looking up oh no no problem i replied though i could hear the nervousness creeping into my voice i just um i heard something about the building's ventilation system being an issue a while back and i was curious if it affected my apartment i'd like to know the history of places that I live in, you know. The receptionist hesitated, her fingers still hovering over the keyboard. The building's old, she said, in a tone that suggested she didn't want to deal with whatever concern I might bring up next. There have been repairs over the years, sure, but we take care of any major issues. If you're having a problem, I can send maintenance. I shift my head quickly oh no it's not that it's just was there ever an incident in that apartment like did something happen to a former tenant her eyes flickered with something like recognition she glanced at the screen in front of her again and then back up at me her expression guarded I'm not really supposed to share details about previous tenants she said slowly choosing her words carefully, but there was an incident. It was a long time ago. I leaned in, my curiosity growing. An incident? What kind? The receptionist glanced around, as if checking to see if anybody else was listening, and then lowering her voice, she said, a man passed away in the apartment a few years ago. Natural causes, I believe, but he wasn't found for a while. There is an issue with the ventilation system at the time end. She trailed off, clearly uncomfortable discussing it further. So it was true. My stomach twisted as I realized I had been right. I was living in the same apartment where that man had died. I thanked the receptionist and left the office, my mind racing. I had the confirmation that I needed, but it didn't make me feel any better. In fact, it only made things worse. The idea that I had been hearing something connected to that man or to his death was too unsettling to ignore now. I couldn't just write it off as pipes or ventilation noises anymore. There was a connection between the sound and the history of the place, even if I couldn't fully explain it yet. back in the apartment I found myself more aware than ever of the space around me every corner every wall felt heavy with the knowledge of what had happened here I tried to keep myself busy telling myself that it was all in my head but the sound was there again that night steady again as if something was lingering just beneath the surface of normal life that night I barely slept my thoughts kept returning back to that article to what the receptionist had confirmed. I found myself wondering about the man who had died here. Who was he? How had he ended up alone and unnoticed for so long? I tried to picture his final moments. Did he know that he was going to die? Had he tried to call for help, but no one heard him? And the next morning, I decided that I needed more information. I had to understand the full story. I couldn't keep living in this apartment with these half-formed suspicions lurking in the back of my mind. And so I turned back to the internet, this time searching more specifically for details about the man's death. It took a while, but I eventually found a few more references to the incident. The man's name was Michael Harris. He had been in his late 50s, lived alone, and from what I could gather had no close family or friends nearby. His death had gone unnoticed for weeks, and by the time the building staff had discovered him, his body had already begun to decompose. The article mentioned that neighbors had complained about the smell, but it wasn't until the stench became overwhelming that anybody had thought to check on him. Reading about Michael Harris sent to chill through me, the idea of dying alone with nobody there to care or notice was horrifying in itself. but something about the way the article described the discovery of his body stuck with me and mentioned that the ventilation system had been pumping air from his apartment into the rest of the building which was why it had taken so long for anyone to realize something was wrong i thought back to the sound that i had been hearing that breathing like balls could it really be that simple was i hearing something left over from that faulty ventilation thing Maybe it wasn't supernatural after all. Maybe it was just the remnants of old air, trapped in the docks and still circulating through the building. But even as I considered that explanation, I couldn't shake the sense that there was more to it. I couldn't ignore how specific the sound felt, how it seemed to follow me, to shift in intensity depending on where I was in the apartment. It wasn't just an ambient noise. it felt alive and that evening I made a decision I couldn't live like this constantly wondering and second guessing myself I needed to confront whatever was happening once and for all I waited until nightfall when the apartment was at its quietest and then I sat in the living room listening the sound was there as always as soft but present I focused on it, trying to pinpoint where it was coming from. It was faint at first, but after a few minutes, it grew louder and more distinct. I stood up and began to follow it, moving slowly through the apartment, from the living room to the kitchen and then back to the bedroom. It seemed to move with me just as it had before. But this time, I wasn't going to let it scare me. I was going to face it head on. And then as I stood in the doorway of the bedroom, something strange happened. The sound stopped. Complete silence filled the room. And for the first time, I felt truly alone in my apartment. That silence was heavier than any noise that I had ever heard. It pressed against me, thick and suffocating, as if the absence of the sound was more impressive than its presence had ever been. I stood in the bedroom doorway frozen waiting for the pulse of that noise to return but it didn't instead there was nothing just the quiet hum of the city outside muffled in dissent I tried to tell myself that this was a good thing maybe I had finally figured it out or maybe the sound was just some odd quirk of the building that had now resolved itself but deep down I knew that it wasn't over something had shifted in the apartment and the silence wasn't a relief it was a warning that night i barely slept again but it wasn't the sound keeping me awake this time it was the lack thereof it the way the apartment felt unnaturally still like it was holding its breath i lay in bed staring at the ceiling trying to rationalize everything that had happened the more I thought about it the more the pieces didn't quite fit together the ventilation system theory seemed plausible enough but why had the sound felt so personal? why had it followed me or at least seemed to? by the time morning came I was exhausted and jittery unable to shake the unease that clung to me I went through my day at work in a fog barely able to even focus my mind kept drifting back to the apartment to that silent unsettling space that i had left behind i considered calling someone maybe a friend or even a professional just to get another perspective but what would i say hey i think my apartment might be haunted but don't worry it's probably just bad ventilation i knew how ridiculous it sounded and i wasn't about to embarrass myself over something that I couldn't even explain properly. When I got home that evening, I half expected the sound to be waiting for me, picking up right where it had left off. But as I opened the door, I was greeted with the same thick silence. The apartment had felt different now, not just quiet, but empty in a way that it hadn't been before. I set my keys on the counter, listening for any hint of the familiar noise, but all I heard was the faint hum of the refrigerator. I tried to settle into my usual routine, cooking dinner, watching TV, but everything felt off. Every creak of the floorboards made me jump. Every little noise from outside the window felt like an intrusion. I was on edge, constantly waiting for the sound to come back, for the rhythm to start up again, but it didn't. The apartment remained silent, and with every passing hour, my anxiety grew. And that night as I lay in bed, I finally allowed myself to consider the possibility that something else might be going on. Something beyond faulty pipes or old duck work. I didn't want to believe it. I'm not the type of person who jumps to supernatural conclusions. But the strange consistency of the sound, its almost deliberate movements, and the way that it had stopped so suddenly, it all made me wonder if there was something more something tied to the man who had died here to Michael Harris I thought about him a lot that night imagining what his life had been like what his final days had been like alone in this very apartment unnoticed by anyone I wondered if he had felt the same sense of isolation that I was feeling now if he had heard the same noises or if this was something new something connected to his death or maybe even to me. The more I thought about it, the more unsettled I became. Eventually exhaustion took over and I drifted into a fitful sleep, but it wasn't a restful sleep. My dreams were disjointed, full of fragmented images. Michael Harris's face, the empty hallways of the building, the rhythmic pulse of that sound echoing in the background. In one of the dreams I was standing in the middle of the apartment, listening and waiting for the sound to start. But instead of hearing it, I saw it. Ripples moving through the air like invisible waves. And in the middle of those ripples was a figure, standing perfectly still and watching me. I woke up in a cold sweat, my heart pounding, the apartment so dark and silent around me. I lay there disoriented trying to shake the feeling of the dream but it clung to me the figure, the ripples that felt too real and too vivid I rubbed my eyes and glanced at the clock it was just after 3am that's when I heard it it started quietly at first so faint that I almost thought that I was imagining it but as I lay there holding my breath it grew louder that same pulse steady and soft just like before it was back i sat up in bed my heart racing again and i listened the sound wasn't coming from the bedroom this time it was coming from the living room i swung my legs over the side of the bed and stood up moving slowly toward the door the sound grew louder as I got closer, still soft, but now unmistakable. It was as if somebody was standing just beyond the living room, breathing slowly and deliberately. I stepped into the hallway, my feet moving almost on their own. My mind was racing, trying to make sense of it, but nothing added up. I wasn't scared exactly, but I was tense, every muscle in my body on high alert. I told myself that I was going to confront it. Whatever it was, there had to be an explanation. As I reached the living room, the sound seemed to shift like it was moving once again, just beyond the edge of my awareness. I stopped in the middle of the room, standing perfectly still, and I listened. The pulse was steady now and louder than before, but so soft enough that it felt distant, like it was coming from just beyond the walls. and then as suddenly as it had started, the sound stopped again. I stood there in the middle of the living room surrounded by silence. My breath is shallow and my pulse racing. I didn't know what to do. I had no idea where the sound had gone or why it had stopped. All I knew was that it had come back and this time it felt different, more deliberate and more aware. I glanced around the room searching for anything out of place but everything looked normal Just my furniture and my belongings The same space that I had been living in for weeks But something had changed. I could feel it in the air and the way the silence seemed to press against me, almost suffocating. I was no longer alone in the apartment. I vagged slowly out of the living room, retreating to the hallway, my eyes scanning the space around me. Every instinct told me to leave, to get out of the apartment and figure this out from a safe distance, but I didn't move. I couldn't. Something was keeping me there, holding me in place, as if I needed to see this through, to find out what was really happening. I stood in the hallway for what felt like an eternity, listening, waiting for that sound to return, but I didn't. the silence remained thick and heavy wrapping around me like a blanket and then just as I was about to turn and go back to bed I heard something new it wasn't the sound this time it was a soft creak like a floorboard shifting under the weight of something or someone I turned slowly my heart in my throat and I saw it there in the doorway of the bedroom stood a figure it was faint almost like a shadow but it was there unmoving and watching me for the first time since this whole thing started I felt real fear the kind of fear that grips you so tightly that you can't move you can't think, you can't breathe and in that moment I knew whatever had been making that sound wasn't just in the walls it was here with me for a moment i couldn't move i stood frozen in the hallway staring at the figure in the bedroom doorway my brain struggled to process what i was seeing to fit it into the realm of reality but nothing about this felt real the figure was just standing there barely more than a shadow its shape indistinct but unmistakably human every rational part of me wanted to believe that it was a trick of the light, a figment of my sleep-deprived mind. Maybe I was still dreaming, caught in the fog of that strange, half-sleep state where everything feels off but plausible. But this wasn't a dream. The figure didn't move, but its presence was palpable. Like the weight of eyes on you and somebody staring, that invisible pressure in the air that makes your skin crawl. I took a step back, my breath coming in shallow, uneven bursts, trying to force myself to think clearly. I should have run. I should have turned and bolted out of the apartment, but my legs, they didn't cooperate. Fear had a grip on me now, squeezing tighter with every second that passed. My mind raced through possibilities, desperate for an explanation, an intruder a shadow of reflection but none of them made sense i blinked hard my vision blurring slightly as i did and for a split second the figure seemed to waver almost like it wasn't fully solid but it was still there and still watching a sudden thought hit me like a bolt of lightning. Michael Harris. Was this him? Was this what was left behind? Lingering in the apartment after his death. The rational part of me recoiled at the idea, but after everything that had happened, the sound, the strange feelings, the way the apartment seemed to change, it was hard to shake. The figure had to be connected to him. There was no other explanation. i stood there in shock struggling to find the nerve to react after what felt like forever i finally pushed myself to say something who are you my voice came out quieter than i'd intended barely more than a croak but it was enough to break the silence the figure didn't move didn't respond it just stood there a dark shape in the doorway like it was waiting for something the stillness of it was almost worse than if it had moved there was something unnatural about how it just remained motionless without a sound i took another step back my legs shaking my mind screamed at me to get out to run but i couldn't bring myself to turn away something about this moment felt final like i had reached the point of no return i needed to know what this was what had been haunting me ever since I had moved in. I forced myself to speak again, louder this time, trying to keep my voice steady. Are you Michael Harris? The second that the name left my left, the figure shifted. It was subtle, just a slight tilt to the head, but it was enough to make my blood run cold. The name had meant something. I felt it, like the air in the room had suddenly changed, like a weight had lifted or maybe shifted. The figure still didn't speak but its attention was unmistakable. It was as if I had acknowledged something that had been waiting to be seen. My heart hammered in my chest and I couldn't tell if I was more terrified or relieved. Terrified because whatever this was, it had just responded to me. Relieved because at least and now I knew I wasn't losing my mind. I hadn't been imagining the strange noises, the sense of being watched, this thing, this presence. It had been here all along. I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. If this was Michael Harris, if this was some remnant of his life, then maybe, maybe there was a way to help him. Maybe he was stuck here, lingering in the apartment, unable to move on because nobody had noticed him in life and now nobody was paying attention in death. What do you want? I asked my voice shaking. Why are you here? The figure didn't move again but the air around me felt charged like the space was holding its breath. I realized then that the sound that I had been hearing, the rhythmic breathing like pulse, it had completely stopped. The apartment was silent as if everything had gone still waiting for something to happen. I took another step back and as I did the figure seemed to fade slightly as if it were being pulled away. I blinked and when I opened my eyes again it was gone. The doorway was empty. I stood there trembling trying to process what had just happened. my mind raced replaying the encounter over and over trying to make sense of it i had seen it i had seen something but now it was gone leaving me alone in the quiet apartment i wasn't sure how long i stood there staring at the empty space with the figure it'd been but eventually my legs gave out and i sank onto the couch my hand shaking and the adrenaline that had been coursing through me drained away leaving me exhausted and confused What had I just experienced? Was that really Michael Harris? Was I imagining things it was this apartment truly haunted by some lingering presence? I didn't sleep that night. I couldn't. Every creak of the floor, every shift of light had me on edge, waiting for that thing to return. But I didn't. The apartment stayed quiet as if whatever had been haunting me had finally gone. the next morning i made a decision i couldn't stay here any longer whatever was in this apartment whatever had been following me i didn't want to find out any more than i already had i packed my things in a frenzy barely stopping to think throwing clothes and belongings into bags as quickly as i could as i walked out of the building for the last time i didn't look back I couldn't. All I knew was that I needed to get as far away from that place as possible. It's been a few months since I left the apartment and I still think about it sometimes. About the figure, about the sound, about Michael Harris. I don't know what it was that I saw or why it was there but I do know one thing. Some places hold on to the past in ways that we can't explain, and sometimes the past doesn't want to be forgotten. I moved to a new apartment across town, one with bright windows and modern fixtures, a place that feels fresh and clean. I haven't heard any strange sounds here, no rhythmic pulses or mysterious figures watching me from doorways. Life has returned to normal, or at least as normal as it can be after an experience like that. But sometimes late at night when everything is still and quiet I can't help but listen just to make sure And every so often I think I hear something A faint steady sound Like someone breathing This episode is sponsored by BetterHelp. You know, especially in February, it can feel like everywhere that you look, people seem to have their love lives completely figured out. Couples post imperfect photos, engagement announcements, and big romantic gestures. And meanwhile, you're sitting there wondering if you're behind somehow. But the truth is, most of us are still figuring it out. Whether you're married, dating, single, or just focused on yourself right now, you're right on time. Therapy can really help you sort through that. It can help you understand what you want, what feels heavy, and what might be weighing down your relationships. Sometimes we carry things around without even realizing it. and having someone help you unpack that can make a real difference. BetterHelp makes it easier to get started. They match you with a licensed therapist based on your needs and preferences, and if the match isn't right, you can switch anytime. With over 30,000 therapists and millions of people helped worldwide, they build a platform that really works. So if you've been feeling pressure, uncertainty, or just want more clarity, this could be a good step forward. Sign up and get 10% off at BetterHelp.com slash MrKraves. That's BetterHelp.com slash MrKraves. Why the Space Force Really Exists Written by TheDarkVoid79 When the Department of Defense stated that one of the functions of the Space Force was to deter aggression from space, they were not talking about man-made threats from space or simple natural dangers such as asteroids. What they meant were things that were much worse. Out there in the void, there are great threats that are just lurking and waiting to stumble upon humanity. Solar 6 was the first to discover this truth Launched as part of the then Air Force Space Command's confidential solar reconnaissance program The purpose of the initiative was to explore the solar system for a future military application At the time the Russians were doing something similar With them having sent at least two probes before our first could even get off the ground not wanting to lose the ultimate high ground Space Commander hastily created and launched interplanetary space probes in order to catch up and despite being developed in a rush the probes were well equipped with a powerful array of sensors and visual monitoring equipment with a lot of the technology used being far greater than what NASA had at the time Able to relay large amounts of information and high-quality images of the various planets, moons, and asteroids in our system, they were supposed to find potential locations for outposts in deep space. However, what they found instead broke everything that we knew about the universe. The sixth probe launched in the program, Solar 6, and was tasked with exploring Jupiter and its moons. It was supposed to be like the other missions, boring and uneventful. But upon entering the sphere of influence of the planet, it began seeing wings. Numbering in the hundreds, gigantic golden wings spanning 1,000 miles long and 100 miles wide started appearing in front of the probe. From what could be observed as the probe moved closer to Jupiter, Dozens of these wings littered the planet's orbit. Receiving the video feed more than half an hour after they were taken, Solar 6's mission control quickly studied the footage and they were left baffled. Previous observations of the planet had never noted these objects before. Earth-based, Earth-orbiting telescopes and NASA Pioneer and Voyager missions never noticed them. even the telescopic images of the planet hours before the probe's approach had no visual of them yet there they were right in front of the probe circling it and almost creating a ring unsure of how to proceed after the strange sighting mission control quickly passed on the information of the chain of command eventually the reply back to them was to continue with the probe's orbital insertion but the objective of the reconnaissance shifted from surveying the moons to surveying the wings. However, as the probe conducted its orbital insertion burn, a new object was sighted. Like the wings, this was not seen from any observation devices on or around Earth. Even with its size, it just couldn't be spotted from our planet. Spanning 2,500 miles in diameter and locked into Jupiter's orbit was a giant sphere. Yet despite its shape, it wasn't a previously undiscovered moon of the planet. Instead, it was another anomaly in this place. Covering the surface of the object were eyes, thousands of them in different sizes, some closed and some open. Along with these eyes were various golden stumps and golden wings, similar to those that were floating around orbit. As the probe got closer and began to orbit around the sphere, two of the stumps on the object were found to be far longer than the rest and seemed to have been composed of a different material that resembled skin. However, imagery and electronic scans were not enough to confirm what the material exactly was at the time. Despite that, from all the initial surveys and studies of the object The scientists and researchers attached to mission control believed that whatever the sphere was, it was a living object At least it had once been living Found during the mapping of the surface were two large holes that penetrated its exterior Closer inspection and radar mapping of these puncture points revealed the hollow interior of the object The scientists concluded that this was the likely cause of death of this massive creature. That then left the questions of what killed it and where was the perpetrator now? In search for an answer, Solar 6 was maneuvered all over the orbit of Jupiter, trying to locate any other anomaly in the vicinity. Eventually, the probe ended up in the orbit of Callisto, where another anomaly was found. Floating there was a long limb-like object On one end of this object was a hand with hundreds of fingers that held a sword The sword measured a thousand miles long and fifty miles wide Like the previous anomalies, it was not able to be viewed from Earth By the time the mission around Jupiter was declared over The probe had explored the sphere, the hand and sword as well as 20 of the wings in order to extract as much information as it could from them. To the dismay of mission control, though, all the surveying did little to reveal where these anomalies came from, why it was here, and how it had met its fate. However, it was at least concluded that all the anomalies found stemmed from one original anomaly, which centered around the large, spherical object. Due to this, it as well as its spread of remains was designated as Cosmic Anomaly No. 1 and marked for future explorations by future probes dedicated to its study. On the other hand, the anomaly responsible for killing Cosmic Anomaly No. 1 was designated as Cosmic Anomaly No. 2 although concrete proof of existence has yet to be found. Furthermore, the presence of such an anomaly, as well as the unknown location and state of the mysterious Cosmic Anomaly No. 2, prompted Air Force Space Command to take more actions of better monitoring and securing deep space. With the government's backing, funds were secretly provided to Air Force Space Command, to the dismay of supporters of the Strategic Defense Initiative. The government believed that threats from deep space were far more concerning than ones from Earth. In order to limit the number of personnel aware of cosmic anomalies so that secrecy could be easier maintained, the Anti-Cosmic Threat Division, or ACT Division for short, was formed by Space Command. That way, all such cosmic issues could be funneled into the division and ensure that no information about them could leak out to the public and cause mass panic. With backing and funding from the government, the ACT division proceeded to create and launch a series of missions to further increase their monitoring abilities in deep space, fearing that Cosmic Anomaly No. 2 may emerge again and threaten human spacecraft or Earth itself. Unmanned monitoring stations were established at our natural satellite and the natural satellites of Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn. Additionally, missions were also launched to Jupiter with the goal of further exploring and studying the remnants of Cosmic Anomaly No. 1. With this being humanity's first encounter with an extraterrestrial life form, the scientists attached to the Activision were desperate to learn more about it. However, the constant travel of spacecraft from Earth and these solar systems' planets resulted in encounters with new cosmic anomalies. Jupiter Picket 10 was to be the 10th monitoring post for the Jupiter observation line. It was supposed to be a fairly normal and uneventful mission, but on the 16th month of its journey, while it was still on approach to Jupiter, it encountered a strange object that suddenly manifested before it. Analysis of footage and radar readings before the encounter showed no sign of anything in the vicinity of the spacecraft at the time Yet in the flash of a moment an object that resembled a naval vessel appeared before it Further examination of the object revealed to mission control that it looked similar to a destroyer escort from the Second World War That alone was a strange sight However, a careful observation of the object revealed that it wasn't just a mere destroyer somehow lost in space. On the ship's hull, dotted all over it, were various human body parts. From heads, arms, legs, and tall torsos, these parts protruded from the hull and moved frantically and erratically. These parts weren't just sticking out from the ship, though. Instead, they seemed to be a part of the ship, somehow merged with the steel that it was made from. A focusing Jupiter Picket-10's camera on the various protruding heads on the hull, a majority of them could be seen with their mouths wide open. Whatever sound they could be making, however, could not be heard through the vacuum of space. From the pained expression on their faces, though, it was believed by many in mission control that they were screaming. One head presented a different expression to the rest, though. Located near the bridge of the destroyer escort, the head's eyes stared directly at the probe's camera, as if it knew where it was located. After gazing at the camera with a pained and sad expression, it then opened and closed its mouth slowly, as if it was trying to communicate something. Based on the interpretation of its lip movement, experts concluded that it was trying to say, help us. And then, just as suddenly as the object had appeared, it suddenly disappeared, leaving no trace aside from the imagery and data that our probe had recorded. One important piece of information gathered from the encounter was the name and hull number of the destroyer escort. However, when the Air Force inquired the Navy about information on the ship that bore that name and number. All the Navy stated that it had indeed been a ship commissioned with them during the Second World War. All further information about its service, though, were marked as confidential and could not be shared. The Activision would eventually label this object as Cosmic Anomaly No. 3, and it would periodically appear and be detected for brief moments of time over the years. As more probes and unmanned installations were launched and positioned across the solar system, the Activision slowly but surely got a better look of the deep space that surrounded us. This also meant the revelation of more anomalies. A few years after first encounter with Cosmic Anomaly No. 3, the Activision started losing contact with the picket station down Saturn and its moons. One by one, the probes and installations there suddenly stopped transmitting. Reviewing the footage from the probes before they stopped transmitting, the Activision did their best to try to figure out what exactly had happened. It turned out to be a difficult task, though, as the available footage didn't show what could have been the cause. And due to this, it was believed that the loss of transmission could have been caused by sudden interference in the area that prevented the probes and installation from transmitting its signals back to Earth. However, a frame from the footage caught by Saturn Station 16 told a different tale. In place at the moon of Phoebe, it managed to catch sight of something that looked like a scaly tentacle heading towards it. It only appeared briefly, but it caught in it a single frame before a transmission was lost. That was the evidence that proved what had happened wasn't a simple signal anomaly. At first, it was believed that this was the result of Cosmic Anomaly No. 2, as it had been the only anomaly that had been deemed active and hostile at the time. Although this caused some fear among the members of the Activision, they were not caught unprepared. They had been preparing for years for such a scenario and soon quickly got into action activating contingency plans. The main contingency plan applied for this threat was Operation Hammer, which relied on armed autonomous probes to deal with the threat. Armed with an array of nuclear-tipped missiles, the probes, dubbed Vanguard Deep Space Strike Vehicles, were to swarm the anomaly and bombard its payload. There was no guarantee that dozens upon dozens of nuclear weapons would be enough to destroy a cosmic anomaly, But at the time, it was the best weapon that the Activision had. In order for the Vanguard probes to strike their target, though, they must first find it. And due to this, all the probes and installations throughout the solar system were thoroughly monitored to see if they could catch a glimpse of Cosmic Anomaly No. 2. But aside from the loss of the ones at the Saturn observation line, no other monitoring system was lost or had caught sight of the anomaly. It seemed that the threat was limited to the Saturn area. To establish better surveillance of the threat, a series of reconnaissance probes were launched to replace the monitoring posts that were lost at Saturn. So that these probes would reach Saturn quickly and prevent the anomaly from disappearing while we were blind, they were equipped with the continuous acceleration drive. This new propulsion system enabled spacecraft to increase its speed substantially and cut down travel time through the solar system Yet despite this, the first of the reconnaissance probes Eagle Eye 1 did not arrive at Saturn's sphere of influence until 13 months after its launch Due to this, it was feared by many in the Act Division that the anomaly had split past them during the wide interval As it would turn out, that wasn't the case The moment the probe got close to Saturn, a set of scaly tentacles suddenly reached out towards it. The speed of the tentacles was so fast that they were barely caught by the probe's cameras. One moment it was flying through space, the next it was held in place and unable to maneuver away. It was just like what had happened to Saturn Station 16. This time it was different though. instead of immediately destroying the probe the tentacle wrapped itself around it first and held it in place then to the surprise of everybody in mission control a smaller tentacle suddenly emerged and began tapping on one of the probe's cameras the tapping continued for a few minutes before the tentacle began rubbing itself on the camera's lens as it did this a dark black red liquid was left imprinted on the lens Eventually, it managed to write out, Leave me alone. After that, a signal from Eagle Eye 1 was lost. Due to the passivity of the anomaly and the fact that it seemed to be fixed in its orbit, the Activision concluded that the living planet of Saturn was not cosmic anomaly number two, but a different anomaly of its own. with its tentacles impressive yet so limited reach it declared impossible for it to have attacked cosmic anomaly number one at Jupiter Saturn was thus labeled as cosmic anomaly number four realizing that no amount of nuclear warheads would be enough to destroy a planet Operation Hammer was canceled before the Vanguard probes could connect their trans-Saturn injection meanwhile the reconnaissance probes already sent out were maneuvered to ensure that they positioned themselves in a high orbit above Saturn, thus ensured that they were just out of reach of the planet and deadly tentacles. Once in a while, the high-orbiting probes would observe the planet, attempt to grab for them, but to no avail. The first face-to-face encounter between man and the anomaly occurred during REAP missions. The missions were a part of a wider operation called Lazarus, which had the main goal of collecting the remains of Cosmic Anomaly No. 1 in order to further study them and see what could be useful for humanity. The mission also happens to be my first assignment with the Activision after graduating from the Air Force's astronaut training program. Assigned to mission control, I was one of the astronauts that acted as CAPCOM for the five-man crew aboard the Mandeep space transporter heading to Jupiter. Thanks to the continuous acceleration drive, travel time for the crew to their destination only took eight months However, barely even two months into their journey, the mission encountered something strange It began with an alert Deep space monitoring satellites in Earth orbit and the radar aboard the spacecraft detected a dense group of unidentified objects ahead of the vehicle Observing these objects and calculating their trajectory It was found that they were on a perpendicular path towards the spacecraft Knowing the dangers of flying into a field of deep space objects The mission's FIDO suggested a quick maneuver to ensure that the spacecraft avoided intersecting with the objects However, before I could call them up to relay this to the crew The commander of the spacecraft sent out a transmission first midway this is reaper one came the call in my headset and the speakers around the mission control center are you seeing what we're seeing i think we see someone floating in there a reaper one this is midway i transmitted what do you mean by someone do you mean an anomaly or do you mean humans the distance between us and the spacecraft meant that there would be a delay in the reply. As we waited though, the mission's Cronus displayed the video feed that was being received directly from Reaper One. In it we could see footage from one of the high-pollared exterior cameras being controlled by the crew, as they pointed and focused in on the unknown object cluster. Zooming in on the cluster, images of various broken and torn spacecraft modules could be seen floating in space. It then became evident that the objects being detected were from a destroyed spacecraft. A further scan of some of these modules revealed the Russian flag, giving us an identity as to where they were from. Air Force Space Command had known that Russian spacecraft were also operating in deep space, but the fact that one of them was destroyed it was news to me. As the camera shifted away from the modules, it soon focused in on a different subject. Caught in the middle of the cluster was the figure of a man, naked, bloated, and completely exposed to the vacuum of space. The man floated freely among the debris. He wasn't alone though, three more men were seen floating freely just like him completely unprotected and bloated and due to their situation it wasn hard to understand why many in Mission Control quickly concluded that they were dead and had most likely been sucked out when their spacecraft was suddenly destroyed. However, continued observation pointed out that there was something wrong about them. When comparing their size with the size of the debris around them, it was soon realized that they were far larger than it. Estimates revealed that the four floating men were at least 50 meters in height. Yet that wasn't the only strange thing about it. Midway, this is Reaper One. Came the sudden transmission from the crew as we at Mission Control scratched our heads and wondered what had happened to those cosmonauts. We think they're still alive. Sure enough, as we further studied the footage, we could see subtle movements from each of the men as their arms and legs fidgeted and swan. Somehow, despite being completely exposed to the harshness of space, they were still alive. They weren't just alive, though, they were also fully conscious and in complete pain. Reaper One eventually maneuvered just enough to avoid the cluster yet still close enough to get a good look at it from its cameras the crew and us in mission control got a better look of the cosmonauts the image would forever be ingrained in my mind eyes bloated, expression contorted in pain they were clearly suffering somehow something was preventing death to end their torture As the cluster passed by and continued on its journey, I shuddered at the thought that they would be forever stuck in a solar orbit, unable to end their pain, as they drifted in space for eternity. The Activision would label those four unfortunate cosmonauts, including whatever caused them to expand that large and become seemingly immortal as Cosmic Anomaly No. 5. Following a year-long assignment as a Capcom for a few more REAP missions, I eventually began training for a long-term space operations in order to join in the next phase of Operation Lazarus. When I was finally sent up a year and a half after the training, I found myself on a journey to Jupiter and my new place of deployment, Archangel Station. and built within the remains of Cosmic Anomaly No. 1. Archangel Station was the farthest manned outpost the Activision had in deep space. Created in order to easier study the remnants of the anomaly as well as ensure that the nation had a strong presence at Jupiter. The station was thus a crucial part of space command. When I first arrived at the station, the majority of its infrastructure had already been completed. Beneath the surface of the once living entity, a series of layered structures were constructed, which housed the living quarters, the command center, the science bay, nuclear reactors, and various other facilities necessary for the station's mission and day-to-day needs. There was, however, a lot of activity and new construction when I had arrived at the station. As we approached the monstrous sphere orbiting Jupiter, I saw some astronauts conducting EVAs on one side of the facility, where they conducted work to attach and secure dozens of continuous acceleration drives onto the surface. meanwhile on a different portion of the sphere work was being done for an extremely large docking area with various electrical wiring hydraulics and strange red colored calves being placed there by a team of astronauts what exactly they were doing there i wasn't sure at the time but i made no effort trying to figure it out after all my mission here involves something else and i didn't want to waste time wondering about things that I knew I wouldn't get the answers to unless the Activision deemed it necessary for me to know. After a month of getting acquainted with life in the station and assisting in various auxiliary duties, I and 44 other astronauts were transported out of the station and sent to Callisto, an orbiter on the moon, to a relatively small outpost in comparison to Archangel Station. That labeled as Outpost No. 12, the modular station could house up to 100 astronauts and orbit it around the moon. Meanwhile, directly below it and also orbiting Jupiter's natural satellite was the titanic anomalous sword and severed arm of Cosmic Anomaly No. 1. Our mission at Outpost No. 12 was simple. to recover the sword and bring it to Archangel Station for studying and testing. However, throughout the entire process, our stay in the station was anything but peaceful. It all began with the voices. No matter what time it was, somehow the sound of hoarse, tired, and sorrowful voices echoed from outside the walls of the station. We didn't know how it was possible and video observation of the hall revealed nothing there, yet we could hear it. And during my first sleep cycle at Outpost 12, the voices kept on speaking words that I couldn't understand. It kept me up all through the hours that I was supposed to be sleeping, as I felt uneasy the entire time and felt as if someone was watching me because of them. Of course, senior officers at Archangel Station were aware of this situation after we had informed them of what we were hearing. The suggestion of the chief medical officers over there was for us to use sleeping pills to get through our sleeping cycles, but somehow they did little to help us, as the voices still kept us awake. By my second sleep cycle, the voices started to become clearer, as I was able to understand some of the words that they were saying. Hello, Michael, Flames. All the words they said seemed random, but they kept me up again nonetheless. Attempts to drown out the noise with a headset and music were met with utter failure too, as I could somehow still hear them despite those tools. and by the third night however I somehow got acclimated to the noise and eventually got some much needed rest when I woke up a lot of the other astronauts aside from an unlucky few had also gotten used to the voices however on day seven of our stay there things started to become stranger I had just finished a long work cycle having conducted hours of EVA to attach maneuvering thruster pods onto the anomalous swords. As I closed my eyes to start my sleep cycle, I heard the usual call of the voices start, but there was something different. Suddenly opening my eyes, I stared at the walls of my cabin and I listened once again. Son, is that you? The voice said, but this wasn't the voice of a stranger. It was the voice of my long deceased father. Son, please call me. The voice spoke again, continuing to bear my father's voice. Hearing it speak with my father's voice made me sure that I wasn't just imagining it. It was definitely his voice that I was hearing and it sent a shiver of fear down my spine. How was it doing that? How did it know my father's voice? He had been dead for years. sighing I tried my best to ignore it I had learned how to sleep with the voices for a few days by that point so I was sure that I could do it again and yet I couldn't hearing them steal my father's voice and use it to call to me specifically brought a new form of fear and uneasiness and by the time that my sleep cycle had ended it was clear that I wasn't the only one suffering from the new attacks that these bodiless anomalies were doing my batch that was scheduled to sleep that night were kept awake by hearing voices of loved ones and friends calling out to them other astronauts who went through followed us suffered the same fate this was bad news for us who had just gotten used to sleeping with the noise but even worse for those who still hadn't rested at all eventually major stewart the commander of the outpost had to place these people on light duty, as they were clearly not fit to do any other work. For days, the voices continued to call to us, with each person hearing different voices of people that they knew each time they tried to go to sleep. For me, I heard the voices of my father, mother, ex-girlfriends, and even old teachers call out to me. It was terrible, and I often ended up shouting back at the voices, telling them to stop. And during some sleep cycles, I was able to block out the noise and get some resemblance of sleep. But eventually, I would be rudely awakened, as the voices called out my name just to disturb me. After a few days of such a constant harassment, it began to take a toll on me and everybody on board. Work efficiency drastically dropped, yet we powered on, knowing that the sooner we accomplished our task, the sooner we would leave. And then came the incident. It happened during the end of my work shift, and due to the fatigue I gained from the recent change in the voices, I was relegated to light duties as a communications officer in the command module of the outpost, and joining me there was Lieutenant Phillips, a younger astronaut who I got to know pretty well on the way to the Jupiter observation line. Like me, he was fatigued by the recent change in the voices and was given light duties as the outpost systems officer. Unlike me though, he looked like a walking zombie, with large, dark bags under his bloodshot eyes. He was clearly in far worse shape than I was. While I only lost sleep when the voices started bearing the names of people that we knew, Phillips had barely slept at all since we were sent to the outpost. In the almost two weeks that we've been there, he's only had three sleep cycles of rest and none of them complete and continuous. And that was why he was assigned to light duties, such as keeping an eye on the outpost systems because it would cause the least trouble if he ever slipped up from fatigue. At least, that was what we thought at the time. As I was floating by the communication system, headset on and listening to the chatter by those out on EVA, I suddenly heard someone speak inside the module. At first, I thought it was Phillips greeting Major Stewart, who was supposed to be checking up on us around that time. to my surprise though Major Stewart wasn't there as I turned around to check all I saw was Phillips talking to himself curious I slowly took off my headset and managed to catch a portion of what he was saying yes Major I'll do it immediately was what Phillips said before floating towards the control panel that controlled the outposts, hatches and airlocks and before I could even ask him what he was doing he suddenly started opening a few of switch guards before quickly flipping the switches as suddenly an alarm in the command module started blaring and screeching as the screen nearby alerted that the air pressure in the crew quarters module was plummeting turning my head to another screen I watched in horror as the surveillance camera pointed at airlock D displayed fellow astronauts being sucked out of their cabins and thrown into the vacuum of space. What did you do? I asked as I pushed my way and quickly floated towards the control panel that Phillips was at and began switching them back to close the hatches that he had opened. I was just following the Major's orders. Phillips simply replied to me. I stared back at him with a confused expression. at the major's orders i said in disbelief as i gestured it to the module that was empty aside from the presence of us two are you out of your mind he's not here no he simply said in reply as he shook his head his orders were loud and clear open the airlocks that's what he told me directly phillips and nobody gave you those orders i yelled back and then a voice spoke to me It was Major Stewart's voice. And that's right. No one gave him those orders. He simply acted on his own. Relieved to finally have some backup, I turned around hoping to see Major Stewart there. But he wasn't. Instead, it was just the empty module. That was strange. I swear that I heard the Major for a second. Turning back to face Phillips, I looked at him to see an empty expression on his face. It didn't yet seem that he had realized what he had done. Oh, the fatigue has gotten to him. The major's voice spoke again. I turned around once more, but like before, he wasn't there. This was starting to scare me as I looked around the module, hoping to see any sign of the major. Perhaps it came to the radio, I eventually thought. maybe I was hearing his voice echoing up from my headset. With the headset still connected to the radio on the other side of the module, it seemed strange that I managed to hear the major's voice so clearly, but it was the only logical explanation. You must kill him to protect the alcohols. A chill ran down my spine as I heard that. I suddenly felt scared. but it wasn't because of what the major's voice said no it wasn't because of that it was because i was certain that i heard the voice from inside my head how was that possible kill him the voice repeated a more aggressive this time do it with kill him the voice ordered as i placed my hands in my ears. It was to no avail though, as I could still hear the voice. Kill him. It repeated, but this time it sounded different. Kill him and leave the arms. At that point I realized that it now sounded like my voice. It was starting to sound as if it was my own thoughts telling me what to do. Kill him and kill him and kill him. As the voice inside my head raised, a crescendo in my head, another voice suddenly echoed out. What the hell happened here? It was the Major's voice again but this time it sounded different. Turning around I was thankful to see Major Stewart and two other officers floating by the entrance to the module. Looking at me before turning their attention to Phillips and then they floated towards us to understand what exactly had unfolded. In the end Phillips was confined into the medical bay. before being transported out of Outpost 12 and sent back to the station for further examination and treatment. From what I heard, the moment that he left the outpost, he seemed to have returned to his normal self, although the news that his actions had resulted in the death of 20 fellow astronauts seemed to have scared him. Following the incident, those of us who stayed for a few more days to finish attaching a few more thruster pods on the Titan Sword before we too were ordered out of Outpost Number 12. The moment that we got out of there was one of the happiest moments in my life and I suddenly felt free from the constant voices. My first sleep cycle at Archangel Station after our return was the best sleep that I had my entire life and due to the harassing voices, which was eventually labeled as Cosmic Anomaly Number 6, deployment to Outpost Number 12 was limited to a week. This resulted in the constant shifting of personnel and slow progress on the retrieval of the Titan Sword. But I didn't care. I was glad that I was out of the outpost and lucky that I didn't get assigned there again. The rest of my stay in Archangel Station revolved around helping with the rather large docking port. Every work cycle that I spent there, I wondered why such a large docking port was needed. eventually though I got my answer a large arm was one day sent to the station and it looked both grotesque and intriguing looking nearly too close to a human arm it was extremely bloated and red covering it were various mechanical and electronic parts that were stabbed into the skin of the arm us junior officers were not exactly sure where the arm came from but some of us had our theories It was a common topic at the mess hall and I remember the favorite theory involved experimentations with Cosmic Anomaly No. 5. By the time that I left Archangel Station, the hand had been fully attached to the docking port built for it. Also completed was the recovery of the sword in orbit of Kalisto. as the spacecraft I was on began its journey back to earth I couldn't help but stare at the small viewing ports and look at the titanic sword floating next to the station enclosed to the large swollen hand now on it now I can't help but think about that again I am set to return back to the station soon and a lot has changed since I was last there The station has had a lot of additions placed on and in it, and in its mission has changed from a simple research and symbolic station to one that was crucial to the defense of the solar system. Meanwhile, I had risen through the ranks to become a lieutenant colonel in the Activision, which was now part of the Space Force. With the creation of this new branch, more funding and resources were provided to us to protect Earth and maintain the secret of cosmic threats away from the public. Yet now I've decided to post this before I leave and break the very secret that we have worked hard to protect. It is important that I do this now before I leave because I fear that I won't have another opportunity to do so and I doubt that the government will dare say a thing if we fail on our mission. We have found cosmic anomaly number two and it has its eyes on Earth. Our only hope of stopping it is using the carcass of an anomaly it had defeated before. Today's episode is also sponsored by Rocket Money You know, for the longest time I felt overwhelmed trying to keep track of my money Between subscriptions, random charges, and bills It always felt like something was flipping through the cracks I'd open my banking app and think Wait, what was that charge? And that's why I started using Rocket Money Rocket Money is a personal finance app that helps finding and cancel your unwanted subscriptions, monitors your spending, and helps lower your bills so that you can grow your savings. What I really like is how it puts everything in one place. It tracks my subscriptions, shows me where my money is actually going, and even lets me cancel ones that I don't want to use anymore with just a few tops. It saved me time and helped me stop paying for stuff that I forgot about. It also automatically categorizes my transactions so that I can see my spending patterns, set budgets, and work toward real goals. Whether I'm saving for something big or just trying to be more mindful, having that clear picture makes a huge difference. If you've ever felt like managing your finances is way more stressful than it should be, Rocket Money can really help. Let Rocket Money help you reach your financial goals faster. Join at rocketmoney.com slash mrcreate. That's rocketmoney.com slash MrCreeps. Rocketmoney.com slash MrCreeps. What the Blizzard Brought Written by Mo Logic The Blizzard was supposed to last two days, and then two became three then I was on day four holed up in my cabin the only thing I could see outside was the snow a white, shifting void that obscured the rest of the mountain range I looked for the stars out of habit, but they were gone buried behind layers of storm the sky was black, thick with cloud and snow in the night the tree line, usually clear was faint now. A smudge of darkness barely separated nature from the cabin. The thick snow blurred the edges, turning trees into shadows that shifted with the wind. What had once been a sharp, familiar boundary was now lost in the white of the snow and the darkness of the night. I was ready, at least, before the storm hit. I had driven down the mountain to the nearby town to stock up on supplies, like I always do. I filled my good old F-150 with food, water, and anything else that I might need to ride out the worst of it. On back of the clearing of the cabin, I chopped firewood. I have already got enough stack to last through a second ice age, but it gives me something to do. Something to break up the quiet. all aspects of it the rhythmic thunk of the axe hitting wood the smell of fresh pine the way the pile grows bigger with every swing it all keeps me from thinking too much I don't get visitors that's not me being dramatic, it's just fact the nearest neighbor is a 40 minute drive down the mountain and that's when the roads are clear which they're not they haven't been for days that's why when I heard a knock I nearly dropped the mug of cocoa that I was holding it wasn't loud just two slow deliberate raps on the door and then nothing I stood there in the kitchen for a few seconds and just listening waiting to hear it again the storm was still going strong outside but underneath the wind the silence settled again like a blanket neither a knock nor a voice calling out followed I figured that I had imagined it cabin fever and all that it wouldn't be the first time but I walked to the door anyway something in me wouldn't let it go could have been curiosity or maybe I was just so starved for company that I wanted there to be somebody out there I opened the door and there he was a kid in his early twenties maybe he could have passed for a college student if he wasn't half frozen his face was pale as paper lips blue, eyes wide and glassy like he wasn't there at all snow clung to his coat in heavy clumps and he was shaking so hard his teeth were clacking together god i said before i even thought about it he didn't answer didn't even look at me just stood there trembling in the doorway like he didn't know where he was i should have hesitated should have asked what he was doing out in the blizzard who he was and how he got up here but i didn't if i closed the door and he died out there I would never be able to live with myself. That part of me, the part that used to be a husband, the part that could have been a father one day, it's still there somewhere, even if it's quieter now. Come in, I said. Come on, let's get you warm. He stepped inside without a word. The wind slammed the door shut behind him. He left a trail of melting snow behind him as I led him to the fire. His boots were soaked through. I had him sit on the old armchair by the hearth while I threw a couple logs on and got the flames high. I asked if he was hurt. He didn't answer. Can you talk? I tried again. Tell me your name. Still nothing. Just that thousand yard stare like he was looking through the fire. Past it. Like he saw something there that I couldn't. he looked like hell skin pale and tight over the bone lips cracked nose bleeding just a little from the cold I knelt down beside him and checked for frostbite and that's when I saw it on his side and just below the ribs his jacket torn and shirt soaked with blood was a wound a deep bite ragged, raw and dirty turning dark around the edges it wasn't new a day old maybe more the skin around it was red and hot you didn't say you were bit I muttered more to myself than to him he flinched when I touched it first reaction that I had gotten out of him his eyes snapped to mine wild just for a second and then they went vacant again it didn't look like a wolf bite I had seen those before. Hell, I've seen worse. Back when I hunted more often. Wolves' hair rip and pull. This was cleaner. Too clean. I patched it up as best I could. Cleaned it. Wrapped gauze tight around his ribs. He winced but didn't make a sound. Just watched me breathing shallow. Like a cornered animal. After that, I set him up in the guest room. It had a bed, a thick blanket, and a space heater in the corner. He didn't say a word and just laid down, curled in on himself, eyes so wide open. I left him there and closed the door gently behind him. The cabin felt smaller after that, like he brought something in with him. A weight, a shift in the air. I tried to shake it. I made myself tease that by the fire and telt a book in my lap that I didn't read I checked on him an hour later he was asleep, out cold no fever, at least none that I could feel I left the door cracked just in case I must have nodded off at some point the fire was down to coals when I woke up house quiet as a grave I could hear the wind screaming against the windows, the old trees creaking out front but nothing inside. No footsteps, no coughing, no movement from the guest room. I was just about to check again when I heard the floorboard creak. He was standing in the hall just watching me. Jesus, I said, nearly spilling my tea. he blinked slow looked around like he wasn't sure where he was sorry he said voice hoarse and dry I didn't mean to scare you it's alright I said you're lucky to be alive what the hell are you doing up here he scratched at his bandage hiking he said with my girlfriend Emma I waited we were camping in the woods yesterday no a few nights before got caught up in the storm thought we'd hunker down and ride it out he stopped his jaw tightened we heard something outside the tent I thought it was wolves big ones we stayed quiet didn't move but it didn't matter they tore through the side he swallowed hard eyes wet now but not crying. I ran. I didn't even see what they looked like just teeth. It was wrong. There were too many of them. Emma screamed and then his voice broke off. You didn't see her after that. He shook his head. I ran until I couldn't and then I saw your cabin. You're safe now kid. Just rest. he nodded, turned and walked back to the guest room like he was sleepwalking I had tried going back to sleep even poured myself another mug of cocoa just to have something warm in my hands but the air felt heavier now like it was pressing in on me one inch at a time sometime after midnight I heard the four creak I glanced up expecting to see him again maybe wandering the hall confused but there was no one, just the faint sound of the bathroom door clicking shut at the end of the hall. The light spilled out in a thin line under the frame. I waited five minutes and then ten. The pipes groaned once, a long, low exhale like the cabin itself was holding its breath, and then I heard glass break. I walked to the bathroom and cleared my throat loud enough for him to hear no response you alright in there? still nothing the steam started seeping out from under the door flowing, crawling, hugging the floor like smoke it looked off, not sharp and white like a shower usually gives off this was thicker, heavier and gray around the edges like breath fogged on glass. I stood outside for another minute and then stepped closer. I pressed my knuckles to the door and knocked once, gently. You hear me, son? Silence. Not even the shuffle of movement No cough no running water The wood felt cold beneath my hand not warm like it should be with steam coming through just still and dead and cold I leaned in, pressed my ear to the door, and I listened. Nothing. Every instinct in me said, walk away, just let it be. The boy had been through hell. Maybe he needed time. Maybe he was sick. Maybe he just broke the mirror by accident. Maybe I was imagining things again. But my gut had gone cold and it wasn't from the storm. I wrapped my hand around the knob. It was slick with condensation. I turned it slowly, as quiet as I could, until the latch gave way with a soft click. And then holding my breath, I gently opened the door. What I saw shook me. The kid was split open vertically down the middle, bisected with a horrific precision that ran from the crown of his had through his nose, mouth, and sternum all the way down to his groin. The bathroom looked like a butcher's block. The tiled floor underneath stained with something dark and moist. His two halves rested on the floor like broken mannequins separated by a sickening foot of space. Ribs, stark white and splintered, jutted like snapped fences. Muscles still glistening and unnervingly pink hung in strips. The coiled lengths of intestine and the dull spilled organs lay exposed and motionless on the floor, some still clinging to one half of the body. There was an emptiness where his spine should have been, a hollowed out canyon running through his core. It was as if something massive had forced its way out from the inside. the precision of the split through bone and gristle was alien it was wrong and then through the haze of shock a draft hit me a bone-deep cold that had nothing to do with the storm outside my eyes still wide and unfocused slowly tracked it the small bathroom window usually sealed tight against the mountain air was shattered, not just cracked but exploded outward as if something had exited through it. Jagged shards of glass glittered on the sill and floor. The fierce wind howled through the gap, bringing with it a stinging spray of snow, and from the half of the young man's body that was closer to a window, a trail began. A glistening, repulsive path of black and dark red slime snaked across the pristine white tiles, past the gurgling toilet, over the shattered glass and through the broken window frame, disappearing into the white void of the blizzard. I thought it was blood, but it was thick, viscous, and it seemed to pulsate faintly in the dim light, leaving an oily sheen in its wake. Whatever had been inside him, whatever had ripped him apart and then fled, had left this horrifying signature. I finally found my breath. It was a cold, panicked gasp that tasted of iron and the strange stink coming off the floor. I backed away slowly, never taking my eyes off the split halves, off the black and red trail that snaked across the tiles. Every instinct screamed run, not down the mountain I would never make it, but away from this room. It was out there now, something that hid inside a man and then discarded the skin to crawl through a broken window into a night that would kill anything normal. The thought of it sliding down the mountain, of it reaching the small defenseless town that I had just driven through days ago, made adrenaline surge through paralysis. It couldn't make it to town. Not on my watch. My feet moved before my brain gave the order. I didn't bother closing the bathroom door. The horror had already escaped. I moved past the living room where the cozy glow of the dying fire felt like a cruel joke and into the master bedroom. I went straight to the closet. Tucked behind my winter gear right where I always kept it was a Remington 870. I pulled it out, the cold steel of the pump action of familiar weight in my hands. I grabbed the box of double-aught buckshot from the shelf, spilling a handful of crimson shells onto the carpet, but I didn't stop to pick them up. I loaded the shotgun quickly, the sharp, metallic clink of the shells cutting through the roar of the wind. It had been years since I had pointed a gun at anything that wasn't a deer, but looking at the slick, dark trail leading out of my house. I knew this wasn't hunting a living being. This was stopping something that was already dead. Something that had warned death and then shed it. I wasn't a hero. I was just a widower with a cab and a shotgun and a terrifying realization. I was the last line of defense. The storm that had trapped me had trapped it too on the mountain. I held the shotgun steady, my knuckles white. The wind howled outside, the trees creaked. I checked the hall one last time, glanced at the horror show of the bathroom, and then I moved toward the front door. There was no plan. There was only the gun in my hands, worry in my heart, and the knowledge that something sinister was crawling through the snow toward civilization. I flipped the deadbolt and hit the door with my shoulder. The wind was a physical blow. A sudden blinding white sheet that stole my breath and sung my eyes. The roar of the storm swallowed the world around. It was a complete whiteout. My eyes searched frantically for the trail. The front porch was already buried under a fresh draft. but I knelt down, shooting my face against the immediate sting of the snow. There it was, still outside the bathroom window on the other side of the perimeter. The oily black and crimson slime was already freezing, but it hadn't been buried yet. It was distinct, lying on the otherwise clean snow like spilled ink. It didn't just drip, it looked like something had slithered. I followed it, sinking immediately into the drifts up to my knees The air was so cold that it burned my lungs I kept the remington high Its barrel was a dark, steady presence against the blinding light The trail, growing in width as I followed it Led past the woodpile and headed directly for the tree line The trees themselves were black specters against the night swaying and groaning under the weight of the snow. I fought against the resistance of the deep snow pushing myself faster driven by the metallic reek of the slime that even in the freezing air seemed to linger. I was maybe 20 yards from the cabin battling a sudden heavy gust when I saw it. At first I thought it was a buck driven mad by the storm. It was easily that size low to the ground its dark shape, barely discernible in the whirling vortex of snow, with a cabin's clearing at the forest edge. But it didn't move like a deer. It didn't trot or bound, it scuttled. It was hunkered down its massive body, creating a brief moment of stillness in the blizzard, a small black shadow against the white fury. I stopped dead, sinking deeper into the draft. I raised the shotgun, and pushing the safety off with a dry click. Through the shifting veil of snow, I strained to make out details, and the details that I found were strange. It was hairy, thick black fur matted and clotted. The fur was plastered down in clumps, matted thick with the same crimson slime that lined the floor of my bathroom. Its bulk seemed to be expanding, the hair giving it an immense, distorted volume. but the low hunched posture suggested that it was something that preferred to crawl. It had multiple limbs, too many, working in sync to move it along the ground. Thick jointed appendages that glistened unnervingly. The sight was a sickening contradiction. The heavy dense covering of fur mixed with the raw unnatural sheen of the slime. It looked like a living wet wound covered in an animal's coat. and then it lifted something, its head. I realized with a shudder of pure dread. It was impossibly large and angular, but I couldn't discern a face, and then the wind cleared the snow just enough for me to see a flash of wet, sickly red where eyes or mouth should have been, reflecting the distant, faint light from my cabin window. It didn't see me. it seemed focused entirely on the darkness of the tree line already beginning to merge with the shadows it was moving still low and fast dragging its huge repulsive body away from the cabin and toward the mountain pass that led to town I gripped the shotgun ignoring the trembling of my own body the blizzard had made the shot difficult but the distance was short if I let it reach the shelter of the trees it would be gone I took the slack out of the trigger there was no hesitation left in me just the immediate primal need to stop this monstrosity before it vanished I squeezed the trigger the sound of the remington going off was deafening a violent boom that shattered the stillness of the storm the flash of the muzzle momentarily burned the image of the creature into my retina I felt the powerful kick of the shotgun against my shoulder, and a split second later the buckshot slammed into the creature's massive torso. It didn't go down. Instead, the thing let out a sound that cut right through the howling wind, a screaming wail that was entirely inorganic, like tearing metal on a wet, ripping canvas. It was a noise of pain, but also of inhuman rage, and it sent a spike of pure terror through my chest. The section of its body where the shot hit seemed to absorb the impact, scattering the spray of the thick dark slime and a few clumps of matted hair into the air. It scrambled, the monstrous body, for all its bulk, moved with terrifying speed, abandoning the relatively clear ground and lunging into the dense black of the tree line. I pumped the action ejecting the spent shell and loaded a fresh round I didn't wait to see if it was mortally wounded I just knew that I had to keep it moving keep it from burrowing down or reaching the pass I plunged into the forest after it following the fresh, dark disturbance in the snow the trees offered a brief, deceptive shield from the worst of the wind but the snow was deeper here, making every step a labor I focused only on the trail, the churned snow, the scattered slime, the deep heavy indentations of its multiple limbs. I ran until my lungs burned, until the cold made the skin on my face ache, until the sound of its desperate laborious breathing were drowned out by my own. And then I stopped. The trail vanished. One moment I was following a distinct line of destruction. The next, the snow was pristine, only marked by my own clumsy blueprints. I moved forward a few more steps, scanning the blizzard-trotted ground, wondering if the heavy snow had worked against me and buried the signs. But no, the trail hadn't slowly faded. It had ended completely, as if the creature had simply dissolved into the air. I rotated slowly, the shotgun trembling slightly in my grip, my eyes uselessly searching the area around me My breath hitched I caught it only as an indistinct smear of shadow A sudden movement in my peripheral vision, high above me I tilted my head back, staring up into the shifting, wind-whipped canopy of the pines there was no ground trail because the trail had continued up the dark oily slime wasn't on the snow anymore it was smeared high on the bark of the nearest trees running in sickening vertical streaks the monster hadn't been slowed it had simply used the vertical space the forest had offered it had the high ground it was above hidden by the night and the dense pine needles and I was exposed beneath it my heart hammered against my ribs I had gone from the hunter to the obvious slow moving target I scanned the dark trunks of the nearest pines searching for any break, any shelter that might afford me a moment of cover about ten feet away a massive ancient pine had been partially uprooted long ago its gnarled root system exposed the dirt and thick woody roots had formed a dark, protective cave against the elements. I dove toward it, dropping to my hands and knees in the snow. I wedged myself into the space beneath the largest root, pulling the shotgun close to my chest. My back pressed against the cold, frozen earth. I held perfectly still, straining my ears against the wind, forcing myself to shrink into the shadows and the earth. It was silent again save for the storm The vast black space between the high branches and the low earth was now where the true danger lay I looked up through an opening in the uplifted roots Seeing only the tangled darkness I waited for a drop of slime, a tremor of a branch or the silent horrifying moment when that massive hairy glistening shape would descend I stayed perfectly still trying to slow the panicked rush of my breath. The silence, punctuated only by the wind, was unbearable. The creature was somewhere above hunting for the man that had just fired the loud, disruptive weapon. And then the snow began to sift down not from the storm but from the branches above. Chunks fell followed by a sudden heavy thud just yards away. It had dropped. The creature was on the ground again, but now it wasn't scrambling away, it was waddling. A fast, deliberate, low-to-the-earth movement, like a massive, glistening insect trying to appear harmless. Its bulk seemed even more immense now that it was no longer distorted by the heights, and I could hear the wet, squelching sound of its many appendages on the snow. it moved slowly into the small clearing around my hiding spot I was pressed so tightly against the frozen roots that the wood had dug painfully into my spine but I didn't dare flinch I had already positioned the Remington my shooting hand gripped the trigger the barrel angled slightly up and out toward the opening of the root cave resting against the snow covered ground the creature's movement was erratic darting toward the tree line one moment and then pulling back why hasn't it found me and then I realized it wasn't looking for me its massive misshapen head was constantly sniffing the air lifting and twisting with jerky movements the air was thick with a howling blizzard and the scent of damp pine and frozen earth The storm was masking my scent. The wind and the heavy blowing snow were scattering and nullifying my presence, covering the fresh trace of gunpowder and adrenaline. I was lucky. The storm had become my unintentional ally. After a few minutes, the sniffing paid off. The waddling ceased, and its massive, slimy, hairy form turned directly toward my root cave. it approached the gap between the thick roots filling the dark space with its bulk it was so close that I could feel the minute vibrations of its weight disturbing the ground and then its head lowered the snow cleared just long enough for me to see the details that I hadn't been able to discern in the blizzard its head was roughly the size of a buck or a moose gall but hideously wrong the bone structure was too broad too blunt it had no discernible eyes just wide swaths of slick wet flesh the color of old blood it wasn't just fur that covered it its thick dark hair was matted with the slime forming a repulsive heavy mane interspersed within this mane were a horrifying number of short glistening leech-like appendages that writhed slightly in the cold air tasting and searching, and then it was inches from my face. I could smell the metallic stench of the black slime mixed with the sour, coppery odor of raw meat. I was looking into the mouth of the nightmare that had walked out of a man. One of the slick, worm-like appendages darted out, brushing against the tip of my nose. In that instant, it knew. The thing recoiled slightly, its large, blunt head drying back, the wet flesh of its face tightening into an expression of immediate, primal recognition. The meal was found, the obstacle identified. It was about to strike. But I didn't let it. I drove the barrel of the Remington up and sideways, the muzzle nearly touching the side of its monstrous head. The blast was muffled and wet, an awful contained thunder. The buckshot tore into the creature's skull from below when the thing erupted. A horrifying geyser of black slime, wet fur, and bone fragments sprayed into the roots above me. The creature shuddered once, a massive muscular tremor before its great weight collapsed. It didn't fall on me thankfully, but it landed directly outside my hiding spot. its massive body completely blocking the entrance. I lowered the shotgun, the noise of the ringing in my ears louder than the wind. I was trapped beneath a mountain of steaming, reeking horror. The ringing in my ears faded slowly, replaced by the stickening sound of hot, wet matter sizzling on frozen snow. I was entombed. The creature's immense, cooling mass was pressed against the root system, sealing the entrance to my makeshift bunker. I could hear the wind now muffled by the sheer volume of dead hairy flesh. I lowered the shotgun slowly my entire body shaking with a delayed violent reaction. The smell was overwhelming now. A blast of copper, sulfur and the sour stink of the creature's slime. The muzzle of the Remington was coated in it. I had to get out. If the blizzard kept up, I'd be trapped here beneath a rotting carcass into the spring melt. I shoved the shotgun's barrel against the creature's flank, testing the weight. No movement. It was like pushing a felled, waterlogged oak tree. I shifted my weight, reaching with my free hand, and finally found the edge of the root that had protected me. I pressed my shoulder against the dirt wall and pushed, straining. the corpse moved an inch and then sank back I had to try a different way I turned the shotgun around and used the thick heavy butt of the stock to scrape away the dirt and packed snow behind me burrowing deeper into the root system the ground was hard and frozen but the shotgun butt gave me just enough leverage to widen a small cramped gap between two lateral roads gasping I barely squeezed through the opening I emerged on the far side of the massive pine away from the creature's bulk I stood up slowly, my heartbeat pounding in my temples and I walked back over to look at the kill It lay motionless, its multi-limbed body contorted awkwardly on the snow but something was wrong Where the head had been, there was only a ruin of black fur and pulped bone Yet a thin, milky white steam was rising from the wound and then I noticed the blood or lack of it. It wasn't bleeding out. The dark black red slime was only slowly oozing, congealing almost immediately in the bitter cold. The buckshot had caused massive trauma, but the creature's internal volume seemed insufficient for its size. It felt like I had shot a sack of thick fluid rather than a complex biological organism. my eyes caught something on the creature's massive flank where the first blast of buckshot had hit it the matted fur had been stripped clean revealing the skin beneath it was pale, slick and thin stretched tight over the enormous frame the skin was visibly healing and slowly knitting itself back together the gaping holes from the shot were shrinking the raw pink-red tissue pulling toward a center point. It was a terrifying, impossible regeneration. The steam wasn't from cooling blood. It was from a burning internal process. My breath itched. The entire premise of this battle that a shotgun could stop it was a lie. I had maybe ten minutes before it was functional again. I had to get back to the cabin not just for ammunition but for something heavier something more final I turned and ran like a madman the snow swallowing my footing the low branches whipping my face the familiar trek back to the cabin was a blur of white and black driven by the cold fear that the monster would simply stand up behind me I burst through the door slamming it shut and throwing the deadbolt though I knew a simple piece of metal wouldn't hold that bulk for long. I raced past the bathroom and into the storage closet. I didn't grab the deer rifle. A bullet was a coin toss but fire was a guarantee. And tucked behind the winter tires were two red five gallon jerry cans. One for the snowmobile, one for the backup generator. I grabbed the can of kerosene too. It would burn slower and hotter than gasoline and I yanked it out Next I needed a wick I dove into the kitchen, grabbed the thickest rag that I could find A towel that I used for drying dishes and I stuffed it into my pocket The light was my last stop I opened the kitchen drawer and snagged a long thin butane lighter used for starting the pilot light I was ready but not fast enough the quiet heavy silence that i had endured for the past few months was broken up by a sound that i'd only heard when cutting down trees a slow heavy ripping sound coming from the side of the cabin the side where the bathroom window was it had found its way back the hole that it had created to exit the young man's body wasn't large enough for its current monstrous size and it wasn't trying to climb through the window. It was tearing the wall apart. I could hear the sickening crunch of frozen pine breaking and the sound of thick wood snapping. I had to assume that it was fully healed or close enough to it. The storm which had given me cover now threatened to bury me inside my own cabin if I wasn't careful. I had to take the fire to the monster. I yanked the front door open, the kerosene can heavy and cold in my hand and I plunged back out into the blizzard. The creature wasn't at the door. I rounded the corner of the cabin, the heavy kerosene sloshing and I saw the damage. A huge section of the wall near the bathroom was ruined. Wood splintered and insulation streaming out like cotton guts. The creature was there, its massive steaming head pulled back from the shredded wall it saw me instantly the bluff of the blizzard had been called I was standing in the open and it was less than 20 feet away it began its repulsive slow waddle toward me its limbs churned the snow the black slime glisten its regenerating head tilted low it was honed in on me I dropped to a knee pulling the heavy can close I twisted the plastic cap off and then tore the towel from my pocket shoving one end into the neck of the can to soak the stench of the oil in the creature's musk mingled horribly in the cold air the monster was 10 feet away I didn't try to aim I just tipped the heavy can and began to drench the path between us as I walked backwards I emptied half the five gallons in a wide black arc right into the snow and across the creature's forelimbs The kerosene didn't mix with the snow It simply stained it, turning the white ground into a shimmering black fleck The creature didn't stop It waddled right through the flammable pool, its greasy fur absorbing the oil as the bees closed the distance close enough now that I could feel the steam emanating off of it I pulled the soaked towel out and threw the can aside and I flicked the butane lighter the thin blue flame fought the wind for a fraction of a second and then it held with a final desperate roar to myself I let the kerosene soaked rag like a torch and I threw it directly at the monster It hit the creature's torso and the effect was instantaneous and brutal. The oil-soaked fur and the slick, saturated snow trail ignited with a violent whoosh. The flames were furious, a shocking blast of orange and red against the white snow. The creature was engulfed in a terrible screaming pillar of fire. the kerosene and the creature's own slick greasy essence fed the flames instantly making them burn with a blinding hot intensity the monster shrieked a sound of agony and pure animal terror and began to thrash violently in the fire it wasn't waddling anymore it was rolling in the snow trying to beat out the inferno fortunately for me the flame stuck to its oiled coat like glue It was a chaotic, burning silhouette against the backdrop of the swirling blizzard. The thick black smoke was lost immediately in the swirling white. I backed away. The heat of the fire was a shocking contrast to the bitter cold. I watched the creature convulse, unable to stop the burning, unable to heal what was being systematically destroyed. The smell of burning hair, oil, and something metallic sweet was nauseating. finally after a minute that felt like an hour the thrashing had stopped the creature lay still a massive charred monument to my desperate resolve the fire still raged but the movement was gone i leaned against the icy wood of the cab and the shotgun forgotten at my feet the flames were already starting to melt a ring of snow around the body but the blizzard had continued to rage the intense heat from the burning carcass was already beginning to recede fighting a losing battle against the continuous onslaught of the blizzard I stood for a moment letting the sheer exhaustion wash over me before the pragmatism and determination of the mountain man kicked in the fire was dying and what was left of this thing couldn't be allowed to heal or even to rot here I grabbed the heavy kerosene can and emptied the last of its contents onto the smoldering pile coaxing the flames back into a furious consuming roar I moved the equipment inside and then returned to the blazing carcass with my axe it took a sickening 15 minutes of hacking and separating what little was left of the creature's bulk I dragged the black escaping chunks through the snow and tossed them back into the heart of the blaze The air was thick with the stench of oil and the sweet, terrible smell of burning meat. I was purging the mountain of this evil. When I was done, only a patch of melted snow and a few glowing embers remained. I stood over the pyre, the axe handle cold in my numb hands, watching the last of the embers fade into the furious white. I turned, intending to head back inside, locked the doors and faced the grim reality of the split body in the bathroom. And that's when I heard it. It wasn't the wind and it wasn't the groan of a tree. It was a faint, wet screaming whale, identical to the sound the creature had made when the buckshot had first hit it. The sound of ripping canvas and tearing metal. It came from the same direction as the first time, from the depths of the tree line, from where the young man had come. I spun around bringing the axe up like a shield, searching the blinding swirling storm. My mind immediately went to the rifle, the thing that I had left behind in the house in my haste. I had nothing but a bloody, snow-covered axe and a dead fire. The whale came again, closer this time, high-pitched and choked. I took a step backward, preparing to fight when a memory finally pierced the fog of panic. The young man's vacant eyes. The young man's vacant story. I was hiking with my girlfriend, Emma. Shit.