Chapter 1
A gust of wind sent a plastic cup rolling across the parking lot, its clinking sound echoing eerily in the empty, dim space. The cold air carried a sharp scent of cigarette smoke, clinging to her senses. Shadows stretched under the streetlights, distorting and elongating like sinister figures lurking in the dark, making everything seem a bit more dangerous. Samara Anderson, a divorced mom of two, locked the front door with her manager’s keys, her hands trembling from both the biting cold and frayed nerves. It was late, almost morning, by the time she dragged herself away from Jim Dandy’s Bar, a bustling but oppressive spot in Park Village. The pervasive smell of stale beer and greasy fried food clung to her clothes like an unwelcome guest. She sighed heavily, her breath visible in the icy air, looking at the dark lot where her car sat like a beacon of escape. Samara, though middle-aged and still retaining her blonde attractiveness, loathed her job at Jim Dandy’s. Bills were relentless, and her ex offered no support, lost in his own concerns. Her hope lay in saving enough to move her children to a better school. The bar’s perpetual grime, malfunctioning equipment, the leering stares of some patrons, and the degrading uniforms only exacerbated her daily dread.
Samara crossed the strip mall parking lot. Her footsteps echoed sharply in the cold night. A sudden clink from a rolling cup sent a shiver through her. Six rows of cars stood between her and safety—too many. Near her car, she spotted a dark, hooded figure in black gloves. Watching. Maybe it was just a bar regular, she told herself. She tried to dismiss the unease. She reached her car. The engine refused to start. Great. Anxiety spiked as the wind ushered another cup her way. When Samara looked up, the figure hovered at her window. Even better. She grabbed her phone. “I’m going to call 911!” she shouted. The figure slipped away. “Asshole,” she muttered, dialing her friend instead. Again came the clink, then—shattering glass. Her driver’s window exploded, glass raking her skin. Samara screamed. She was dragged from her car as her phone tumbled to the ground.
A gust of wind sent a plastic cup rolling across the parking lot, its clinking sound echoing eerily in the empty, dim space. The cold air carried a sharp scent of cigarette smoke, clinging to her senses. Shadows stretched under the streetlights, distorting and elongating like sinister figures lurking in the dark, making everything seem a bit more dangerous. Samara Anderson, a divorced mom of two, locked the front door with her manager’s keys, her hands trembling from both the biting cold and frayed nerves. It was late, almost morning, by the time she dragged herself away from Jim Dandy’s Bar, a bustling but oppressive spot in Park Village. The pervasive smell of stale beer and greasy fried food clung to her clothes like an unwelcome guest. She sighed heavily, her breath visible in the icy air, looking at the dark lot where her car sat like a beacon of escape. Samara, though middle-aged and still retaining her blonde attractiveness, loathed her job at Jim Dandy’s. Bills were relentless, and her ex offered no support, lost in his own concerns. Her hope lay in saving enough to move her children to a better school. The bar’s perpetual grime, malfunctioning equipment, the leering stares of some patrons, and the degrading uniforms only exacerbated her daily dread.
Samara crossed the strip mall parking lot. Her footsteps echoed sharply in the cold night. A sudden clink from a rolling cup sent a shiver through her. Six rows of cars stood between her and safety—too many. Near her car, she spotted a dark, hooded figure in black gloves. Watching. Maybe it was just a bar regular, she told herself. She tried to dismiss the unease. She reached her car. The engine refused to start. Great. Anxiety spiked as the wind ushered another cup her way. When Samara looked up, the figure hovered at her window. Even better. She grabbed her phone. “I’m going to call 911!” she shouted. The figure slipped away. “Asshole,” she muttered, dialing her friend instead. Again came the clink, then—shattering glass. Her driver’s window exploded, glass raking her skin. Samara screamed. She was dragged from her car as her phone tumbled to the ground.
Chapter 2
Meanwhile, across town at KRWP 100.9, I was beginning my overnight shift at the radio station. Samara was being attacked while I prepped for my supernatural talk show. I’ve always been a night person. I don’t sleep much—mostly because of things that happened when I was a kid. Over time, I got used to being awake at night. Sometimes I used my fears for stories. My listeners and I talk about strange and creepy things, like the legend of La Llorona, who’s said to haunt the rivers near Park Village. Or the ghost of a miner in the old tunnels. After I studied media arts at night school, I got into radio. I started my own show to face my fears. On air, we talk about what scares us and the secrets we try to ignore. Sometimes, I wonder if the shadows we discuss on the show are really that different from the ones in my own mind.
“Good evening, listeners. It’s your queen of the night, Mistress Belle. Ready for chills and thrills?” I say, glancing at my producer, Jason Todd. We’ve worked together for years and often joke around with pet names. I remind everyone about my upcoming, unwanted vacation—station policy. Jason will fill in for me while I’m gone. After my announcement, Jason signals that two callers are waiting. I nod and say, “Let the nightmares begin.”
Jason patched in the first caller. “Hello, caller,” I said. A woman replied, “Hi, Mistress Belle.” “Who am I speaking to?” I asked. “Sara. I want to tell a ghost story.” She launched in. I gave her five minutes. The story followed a familiar pattern: new house, kids, imaginary friends, then things getting strange. She wanted advice. I offered some and thanked her. I mentioned Jim Dandy’s Bar. Jason signaled for one more call before our break.
Jason connects the next caller. “Hello, caller,” I say, but my voice is tight, and my breath catches. A shrill voice answers, sounding just like something from my old nightmares. I try to steady myself, but my hands shake on the console. The smell of stale cigarettes drifts in from the hall. Suddenly, I feel like I’m eight again, hiding under the covers, heart pounding, hoping Uncle Tony won’t find me. The memory is so heavy it’s hard to breathe. I wait in silence, not sure what’s coming next. Then I hear, “I have missed you, peanut.” The words make my skin crawl. Fear hits me, sharp and real. “You were a pretty girl. Shame I couldn’t finish it with you years ago.” The room feels smaller, and the threat feels real, like it’s stepping out of the shadows and into my life.
The voice taunts, ‘You’ll pay for what you did to your Uncle. It took time, but I’m back, Peanut.’ Memories explode in my mind—Uncle’s hands, old shadows, the choked sobs in the dark. His voice hisses: ‘I’m back; she’s the first. I’ll be there soon.’ My chest tightens, every breath squeezed out by fear. Before I can scream, another voice joins in: ‘Uncle, will you come soon and take me to the special place again?’ The line goes dead. Tears stream down my face; this can’t be real. I jump up, looking for Jason, but instead I see Uncle Tony leering from the doorway. Cold panic floods me. I scream as the world spins and darkness takes over.
Meanwhile, across town at KRWP 100.9, I was beginning my overnight shift at the radio station. Samara was being attacked while I prepped for my supernatural talk show. I’ve always been a night person. I don’t sleep much—mostly because of things that happened when I was a kid. Over time, I got used to being awake at night. Sometimes I used my fears for stories. My listeners and I talk about strange and creepy things, like the legend of La Llorona, who’s said to haunt the rivers near Park Village. Or the ghost of a miner in the old tunnels. After I studied media arts at night school, I got into radio. I started my own show to face my fears. On air, we talk about what scares us and the secrets we try to ignore. Sometimes, I wonder if the shadows we discuss on the show are really that different from the ones in my own mind.
“Good evening, listeners. It’s your queen of the night, Mistress Belle. Ready for chills and thrills?” I say, glancing at my producer, Jason Todd. We’ve worked together for years and often joke around with pet names. I remind everyone about my upcoming, unwanted vacation—station policy. Jason will fill in for me while I’m gone. After my announcement, Jason signals that two callers are waiting. I nod and say, “Let the nightmares begin.”
Jason patched in the first caller. “Hello, caller,” I said. A woman replied, “Hi, Mistress Belle.” “Who am I speaking to?” I asked. “Sara. I want to tell a ghost story.” She launched in. I gave her five minutes. The story followed a familiar pattern: new house, kids, imaginary friends, then things getting strange. She wanted advice. I offered some and thanked her. I mentioned Jim Dandy’s Bar. Jason signaled for one more call before our break.
Jason connects the next caller. “Hello, caller,” I say, but my voice is tight, and my breath catches. A shrill voice answers, sounding just like something from my old nightmares. I try to steady myself, but my hands shake on the console. The smell of stale cigarettes drifts in from the hall. Suddenly, I feel like I’m eight again, hiding under the covers, heart pounding, hoping Uncle Tony won’t find me. The memory is so heavy it’s hard to breathe. I wait in silence, not sure what’s coming next. Then I hear, “I have missed you, peanut.” The words make my skin crawl. Fear hits me, sharp and real. “You were a pretty girl. Shame I couldn’t finish it with you years ago.” The room feels smaller, and the threat feels real, like it’s stepping out of the shadows and into my life.
The voice taunts, ‘You’ll pay for what you did to your Uncle. It took time, but I’m back, Peanut.’ Memories explode in my mind—Uncle’s hands, old shadows, the choked sobs in the dark. His voice hisses: ‘I’m back; she’s the first. I’ll be there soon.’ My chest tightens, every breath squeezed out by fear. Before I can scream, another voice joins in: ‘Uncle, will you come soon and take me to the special place again?’ The line goes dead. Tears stream down my face; this can’t be real. I jump up, looking for Jason, but instead I see Uncle Tony leering from the doorway. Cold panic floods me. I scream as the world spins and darkness takes over.
Chapter 3
When I wake up, everything has changed—now I’m in a hospital room at St. Ferrell’s, about 20 miles from Park Village, and no longer at the radio station. After the terrifying radio call, I don’t know when I came to, but it’s dark and quiet. The heart monitor beeps, and I have suction cups on my chest and a pulse ox on my finger. It’s still night outside, and I can hear staff talking in the hallway. Suddenly, a loud noise from a cart in the corridor startles me, snapping me out of my thoughts about Uncle Tony’s voice on the phone. The noise makes everything feel more urgent and strange. My heart races as I try to calm myself, knowing I need to stay alert.
My Uncle Tony entered my life when I was six. Even then, I was a loner, playing alone while others played together. Ms. Noem, my teacher, grew concerned, and I told her Uncle Tony was my only friend. She met with my parents to discuss it. I recall my parents’ conversation after. They sent me to my room. From downstairs, Dad said, “I don’t know, Georgia. Being withdrawn at her age is normal.” Mom sighed, “Stan, but she won’t play with kids, and all she talks about is Uncle Tony.”
Mom pauses, visibly upset about the meeting with Ms. Noem. She finally pushes out the rest of the words. “She calls this Uncle Tony her best and only friend; it scares me that she wants no other friends than Uncle.” Mom starts to cry. My father walks over and embraces her. “Imaginary friends are normal at this age; I have one,” my Dad says proudly as they hug. Mom laughs. “Hunny, you’re not normal,” she says. Both my parents laugh. Mom asks my Dad, “You sure she’ll be OK?” My Dad draws a deep breath. “Yes, she will not be like your brother. She is too young for that diagnosis yet, and if it comes, we will handle it together.” My Mom sighs, then nestles herself further into my Dad’s chest.
I knelt at the top of the stairs, perched above the living room, watching my parents talk below. I never went to my room as told. That day, I wore my favorite pair of pink overalls. Uncertain, I listened as my parents discussed Uncle Tony. To them, he was make-believe. But Uncle Tony felt real—solid, as alive as I was. Only I could see him, and that made me special. I decided to ask him what “imaginary” meant; Uncle Tony always knew everything. He waited for me in my room, telling me to spy on my parents and report what they told each other. The feeling was simple—he loved me. I believed it. Even if others couldn’t see Uncle Tony, his presence was tangible to me. My confidence restored, I rose, tiptoed to my room, opened the door, and let comfort settle in at the sight of Uncle Tony.
Uncle Tony appeared a month earlier, on a day when Mom and Dad fought. The meeting with Ms. Noem was a good day, but most days are harder. Mom and Dad fight about adult things I don’t understand. The day Uncle Tony appears, it’s rainy in October. Sent to my room to avoid the yelling, I still hear them. Hugging my teddy, I try to stay calm. Suddenly, a man in a top hat and overcoat stands by my bed, smiles, and wipes away my tears.
When I asked who he was, he said God had sent him to be my friend because I don’t have many friends and to help me stop crying when my parents fight. His name is Uncle Tony. I smile at him; he makes me happy when he says these words. This man at the side of my bed is funny-looking; he is a cross between the Monopoly guy and Danny Devito as the penguin in Batman Returns, my Dad’s favorite movie. I watch it with him often. Other people might find Uncle scary, but I do not; he is my friend. Since Uncle tells me God sends him to protect me when my parents fight and that he is my forever friend, I no longer question him about his sudden appearance in my bedroom. I am too young to fully understand that this is not a normal occurrence for someone to appear somewhere, plus I need a friend, especially with my parents fighting all the time. Over the next few weeks, Uncle and I become closer. Uncle gives me candy before dinner, which is cool; my parents never do that. Uncle plays games with me and tells me fantastic stories about the past, which wow me and help me fall asleep. Uncle eventually tells me I shouldn’t talk to the other kids at school because they aren’t friends. He is my only friend, and he has my best interests at heart; the kids at school, however, do not, as they seek to use me for their own benefit. “You’re my peanut, and I’m your uncle,” Uncle says with a smile one day before school. Uncle pets my hair after he says these words; he pets my hair lovingly. I smile at him, and he smiles back. I’m happy Uncle is here with me; he keeps me company when my parents are fighting, plays with me when they won’t or cannot, and tells me stories that help me fall asleep. They are wonderful. Because of everything Uncle does for me, I listen to him.
I don’t talk or play with the kids at school; they call me odd and weird because I don’t want to do those things with them. So I tell them Uncle is my friend, and I don’t need anyone else. As a result, the kids make fun of me more because of what I say. Ms. Noem overhears this exchange, so she pulls me aside to ask me about Uncle. If he is, then I don’t want to play with the other kids. I tell her, “Yes, that Uncle is the only friend I want and need, so I don’t want to talk or play with the other kids.” After speaking with me, Ms. Noem calls my parents in for the next meeting. Ms. Noem is concerned that someone at home may tell me these things. I told Uncle that night about the meeting the next day. He said it’s OK that we remain friends and that Ms. Noem can meet my parents; it won’t change anything between him and me. My parents met Ms. Noem the next afternoon to discuss the situation at home and with Uncle. Ms. Noem is satisfied with my parents’ answers at the meeting. She encourages them to support me in making friends at school, and will do the same.
My Mom is willing to encourage me, and my Dad is less concerned and wants things to happen naturally. I, as he is, was antisocial as a kid. My parents don’t fight that day, but they do the next, arguing over me making friends. Uncle started sleeping in my bed the day after the meeting. I’m OK with this; I feel good and loved. Having Uncle lying next to me also makes me feel good. I love Uncle Tony and tell my parents repeatedly that I don’t need friends; I have Uncle Tony coming over in the next few days. I love walking into my room and seeing Uncle Tony in his rocking chair. Sometimes, Uncle stares at the wall, rocking, waiting for me to come to him. It comforts me to have him here. Soon, Uncle follows me to school.
Jason breaks my thoughts as he enters the hospital room with a coffee from the gas station. “Hi, sleeping beauty, you are awake; you scare the shit out of me,” he says with a loving smile. “I play an episode from the show vault after I call 911 for you, so don’t worry, there is still a show,” he continues as he walks over to me, lying in the hospital bed. Jason looks at me sweetly, then pats my head. “I’m sorry I scared you, boo, that call is just disturbing,” I say. Jason curiously looks at me and says, “What call?” The question surprises me, I pause, think, and say, “The call with the weird guy with a shrill voice.” Jason raises his right eyebrow and says, “The other call is never patched through; you pass out after Sara’s ghost story.” He pauses, sips coffee, then says, “You tell me you have been taking care of your diabetes. It seems you have not been.” Jason gives me a concerned look. It is true; I have had diabetes since I was ten years old, and it is type 2 now that I’m older. With the shift, I don’t take the time to take my medication and eat crazy shit late at night. I smile coyly at Jason, then say, “You’re the life of a late-night shock jock, it’s crazy.” Jason gives me a disapproving look as he sips his coffee. Once Jason swallows his coffee, he says, “If you don’t start taking care of it, you will not be around to shock the masses for the next twenty to thirty years.” Jason’s statement prompts me to pause and question myself. Do I slip into a diabetic daydream and hallucinate about Uncle Tony?
I still have nightmares about him and his “special place” twenty years later. I have repressed memories for so many years. Jason pulls up a chair, reaches for the remote on the hospital bed, and turns on the TV. Jason looks at me and says, “Doctors say they’ll watch you over the next few hours; they might keep you, but they might not.” Jason takes another sip of coffee. “Regardless, you need to take better care of yourself.” I nod in agreement, knowing I must take better care of myself. Maybe it is a diabetic delusion. Jason flips through the TV stations. Still, nothing is on. “What time is it?” I ask. “Almost four in the morning,” he says. He looks at me and says, “Get some rest; you need it after tonight.” I agree. I lay back down and rest my eyes.
When I wake up, everything has changed—now I’m in a hospital room at St. Ferrell’s, about 20 miles from Park Village, and no longer at the radio station. After the terrifying radio call, I don’t know when I came to, but it’s dark and quiet. The heart monitor beeps, and I have suction cups on my chest and a pulse ox on my finger. It’s still night outside, and I can hear staff talking in the hallway. Suddenly, a loud noise from a cart in the corridor startles me, snapping me out of my thoughts about Uncle Tony’s voice on the phone. The noise makes everything feel more urgent and strange. My heart races as I try to calm myself, knowing I need to stay alert.
My Uncle Tony entered my life when I was six. Even then, I was a loner, playing alone while others played together. Ms. Noem, my teacher, grew concerned, and I told her Uncle Tony was my only friend. She met with my parents to discuss it. I recall my parents’ conversation after. They sent me to my room. From downstairs, Dad said, “I don’t know, Georgia. Being withdrawn at her age is normal.” Mom sighed, “Stan, but she won’t play with kids, and all she talks about is Uncle Tony.”
Mom pauses, visibly upset about the meeting with Ms. Noem. She finally pushes out the rest of the words. “She calls this Uncle Tony her best and only friend; it scares me that she wants no other friends than Uncle.” Mom starts to cry. My father walks over and embraces her. “Imaginary friends are normal at this age; I have one,” my Dad says proudly as they hug. Mom laughs. “Hunny, you’re not normal,” she says. Both my parents laugh. Mom asks my Dad, “You sure she’ll be OK?” My Dad draws a deep breath. “Yes, she will not be like your brother. She is too young for that diagnosis yet, and if it comes, we will handle it together.” My Mom sighs, then nestles herself further into my Dad’s chest.
I knelt at the top of the stairs, perched above the living room, watching my parents talk below. I never went to my room as told. That day, I wore my favorite pair of pink overalls. Uncertain, I listened as my parents discussed Uncle Tony. To them, he was make-believe. But Uncle Tony felt real—solid, as alive as I was. Only I could see him, and that made me special. I decided to ask him what “imaginary” meant; Uncle Tony always knew everything. He waited for me in my room, telling me to spy on my parents and report what they told each other. The feeling was simple—he loved me. I believed it. Even if others couldn’t see Uncle Tony, his presence was tangible to me. My confidence restored, I rose, tiptoed to my room, opened the door, and let comfort settle in at the sight of Uncle Tony.
Uncle Tony appeared a month earlier, on a day when Mom and Dad fought. The meeting with Ms. Noem was a good day, but most days are harder. Mom and Dad fight about adult things I don’t understand. The day Uncle Tony appears, it’s rainy in October. Sent to my room to avoid the yelling, I still hear them. Hugging my teddy, I try to stay calm. Suddenly, a man in a top hat and overcoat stands by my bed, smiles, and wipes away my tears.
When I asked who he was, he said God had sent him to be my friend because I don’t have many friends and to help me stop crying when my parents fight. His name is Uncle Tony. I smile at him; he makes me happy when he says these words. This man at the side of my bed is funny-looking; he is a cross between the Monopoly guy and Danny Devito as the penguin in Batman Returns, my Dad’s favorite movie. I watch it with him often. Other people might find Uncle scary, but I do not; he is my friend. Since Uncle tells me God sends him to protect me when my parents fight and that he is my forever friend, I no longer question him about his sudden appearance in my bedroom. I am too young to fully understand that this is not a normal occurrence for someone to appear somewhere, plus I need a friend, especially with my parents fighting all the time. Over the next few weeks, Uncle and I become closer. Uncle gives me candy before dinner, which is cool; my parents never do that. Uncle plays games with me and tells me fantastic stories about the past, which wow me and help me fall asleep. Uncle eventually tells me I shouldn’t talk to the other kids at school because they aren’t friends. He is my only friend, and he has my best interests at heart; the kids at school, however, do not, as they seek to use me for their own benefit. “You’re my peanut, and I’m your uncle,” Uncle says with a smile one day before school. Uncle pets my hair after he says these words; he pets my hair lovingly. I smile at him, and he smiles back. I’m happy Uncle is here with me; he keeps me company when my parents are fighting, plays with me when they won’t or cannot, and tells me stories that help me fall asleep. They are wonderful. Because of everything Uncle does for me, I listen to him.
I don’t talk or play with the kids at school; they call me odd and weird because I don’t want to do those things with them. So I tell them Uncle is my friend, and I don’t need anyone else. As a result, the kids make fun of me more because of what I say. Ms. Noem overhears this exchange, so she pulls me aside to ask me about Uncle. If he is, then I don’t want to play with the other kids. I tell her, “Yes, that Uncle is the only friend I want and need, so I don’t want to talk or play with the other kids.” After speaking with me, Ms. Noem calls my parents in for the next meeting. Ms. Noem is concerned that someone at home may tell me these things. I told Uncle that night about the meeting the next day. He said it’s OK that we remain friends and that Ms. Noem can meet my parents; it won’t change anything between him and me. My parents met Ms. Noem the next afternoon to discuss the situation at home and with Uncle. Ms. Noem is satisfied with my parents’ answers at the meeting. She encourages them to support me in making friends at school, and will do the same.
My Mom is willing to encourage me, and my Dad is less concerned and wants things to happen naturally. I, as he is, was antisocial as a kid. My parents don’t fight that day, but they do the next, arguing over me making friends. Uncle started sleeping in my bed the day after the meeting. I’m OK with this; I feel good and loved. Having Uncle lying next to me also makes me feel good. I love Uncle Tony and tell my parents repeatedly that I don’t need friends; I have Uncle Tony coming over in the next few days. I love walking into my room and seeing Uncle Tony in his rocking chair. Sometimes, Uncle stares at the wall, rocking, waiting for me to come to him. It comforts me to have him here. Soon, Uncle follows me to school.
Jason breaks my thoughts as he enters the hospital room with a coffee from the gas station. “Hi, sleeping beauty, you are awake; you scare the shit out of me,” he says with a loving smile. “I play an episode from the show vault after I call 911 for you, so don’t worry, there is still a show,” he continues as he walks over to me, lying in the hospital bed. Jason looks at me sweetly, then pats my head. “I’m sorry I scared you, boo, that call is just disturbing,” I say. Jason curiously looks at me and says, “What call?” The question surprises me, I pause, think, and say, “The call with the weird guy with a shrill voice.” Jason raises his right eyebrow and says, “The other call is never patched through; you pass out after Sara’s ghost story.” He pauses, sips coffee, then says, “You tell me you have been taking care of your diabetes. It seems you have not been.” Jason gives me a concerned look. It is true; I have had diabetes since I was ten years old, and it is type 2 now that I’m older. With the shift, I don’t take the time to take my medication and eat crazy shit late at night. I smile coyly at Jason, then say, “You’re the life of a late-night shock jock, it’s crazy.” Jason gives me a disapproving look as he sips his coffee. Once Jason swallows his coffee, he says, “If you don’t start taking care of it, you will not be around to shock the masses for the next twenty to thirty years.” Jason’s statement prompts me to pause and question myself. Do I slip into a diabetic daydream and hallucinate about Uncle Tony?
I still have nightmares about him and his “special place” twenty years later. I have repressed memories for so many years. Jason pulls up a chair, reaches for the remote on the hospital bed, and turns on the TV. Jason looks at me and says, “Doctors say they’ll watch you over the next few hours; they might keep you, but they might not.” Jason takes another sip of coffee. “Regardless, you need to take better care of yourself.” I nod in agreement, knowing I must take better care of myself. Maybe it is a diabetic delusion. Jason flips through the TV stations. Still, nothing is on. “What time is it?” I ask. “Almost four in the morning,” he says. He looks at me and says, “Get some rest; you need it after tonight.” I agree. I lay back down and rest my eyes.
Chapter 4
I am back in the house where I grew up. I am six again and overhear my parents discussing me after meeting Ms. Noem. I run to tell Uncle Tony what my parents say, just as he told me to. I approach my bedroom door, excited to see him. Uncle has been staying over more often lately. I like it; it makes me feel safe. I have no friends; maybe I would have more if I didn’t listen to Uncle. I am young, impressionable, and need love, so I listen to Uncle’s every word. I love my Uncle Tony, and he loves me. I open the bedroom door, and he sits in his rocking chair, rocking back and forth, staring at the far wall in my room. “Uncle,” I say very proudly. Uncle stops rocking at the sound of my voice. He turns his head slightly, peers at me with his pale eyes, and his wrinkled face breaks into a smile. Uncle’s top hat sits on his head, with white, yellowish hair protruding from underneath it. A white-yellowish beard hangs from his face, and a big nose sticks out from under the hat, much like Jim Durante’s. Uncle looks at me with pride, his black suit wrinkled, like a bum who wears it 24/7.
How he looks does not matter to me. I love him. “Yes, my peanut,” he croaks like a frog. I don’t miss a beat. I happily spurt out, “Mommy and Daddy are talking about us like you say they will.” Uncle smiles, and he nods. I continue, “They say it is normal for me to have a friend like you. My daddy even has a friend like you that no one can see at my age.” I continue with childlike amazement. Uncle turns back to the wall, slowly rocks the chair again, and suddenly stops. There is an uncomfortable silence as I wait for Uncle to respond. “I’m coming for you, peanut,” he says menacingly, breaking the room’s silence. With these words, I am no longer six; I am my current age, standing in my childhood bedroom in a hospital gown. I glance over at Uncle, who sits in the rocking chair, beads of sweat forming on my forehead. Uncle starts to rock the chair again, slowly. “You are mean to your uncle, and now you must pay,” he croaks. Uncle stops rocking the chair.
There is a flash, and Uncle is on top of me so far that I cannot react. He looks different; he is more lizard-like. He has no hair, no beard, and his eyes are yellow with slits. Uncle wears no clothes; his body is scaly like a lizard. He is on top of me, holding me down with his body weight. Uncle rubs his scaly body against mine so I can feel it. My skin crawls; the body that once comforts me at six now makes me sick. Uncle looks at me with his yellow eyes. He says, “I’m coming for you; I’ll be there soon, peanut.” Uncle puts his face near mine. “It’s just a dream,” I say out loud, trying to convince myself even as I feel Uncle’s forked tongue lick my face. Uncle then moves his tongue to my right ear and sticks it in. I can feel Uncle’s cold, wet ear in my ear. “It is not a dream bitch.” I hear Uncle’s voice in my head. I scream.
I am back in the house where I grew up. I am six again and overhear my parents discussing me after meeting Ms. Noem. I run to tell Uncle Tony what my parents say, just as he told me to. I approach my bedroom door, excited to see him. Uncle has been staying over more often lately. I like it; it makes me feel safe. I have no friends; maybe I would have more if I didn’t listen to Uncle. I am young, impressionable, and need love, so I listen to Uncle’s every word. I love my Uncle Tony, and he loves me. I open the bedroom door, and he sits in his rocking chair, rocking back and forth, staring at the far wall in my room. “Uncle,” I say very proudly. Uncle stops rocking at the sound of my voice. He turns his head slightly, peers at me with his pale eyes, and his wrinkled face breaks into a smile. Uncle’s top hat sits on his head, with white, yellowish hair protruding from underneath it. A white-yellowish beard hangs from his face, and a big nose sticks out from under the hat, much like Jim Durante’s. Uncle looks at me with pride, his black suit wrinkled, like a bum who wears it 24/7.
How he looks does not matter to me. I love him. “Yes, my peanut,” he croaks like a frog. I don’t miss a beat. I happily spurt out, “Mommy and Daddy are talking about us like you say they will.” Uncle smiles, and he nods. I continue, “They say it is normal for me to have a friend like you. My daddy even has a friend like you that no one can see at my age.” I continue with childlike amazement. Uncle turns back to the wall, slowly rocks the chair again, and suddenly stops. There is an uncomfortable silence as I wait for Uncle to respond. “I’m coming for you, peanut,” he says menacingly, breaking the room’s silence. With these words, I am no longer six; I am my current age, standing in my childhood bedroom in a hospital gown. I glance over at Uncle, who sits in the rocking chair, beads of sweat forming on my forehead. Uncle starts to rock the chair again, slowly. “You are mean to your uncle, and now you must pay,” he croaks. Uncle stops rocking the chair.
There is a flash, and Uncle is on top of me so far that I cannot react. He looks different; he is more lizard-like. He has no hair, no beard, and his eyes are yellow with slits. Uncle wears no clothes; his body is scaly like a lizard. He is on top of me, holding me down with his body weight. Uncle rubs his scaly body against mine so I can feel it. My skin crawls; the body that once comforts me at six now makes me sick. Uncle looks at me with his yellow eyes. He says, “I’m coming for you; I’ll be there soon, peanut.” Uncle puts his face near mine. “It’s just a dream,” I say out loud, trying to convince myself even as I feel Uncle’s forked tongue lick my face. Uncle then moves his tongue to my right ear and sticks it in. I can feel Uncle’s cold, wet ear in my ear. “It is not a dream bitch.” I hear Uncle’s voice in my head. I scream.
Chapter 5
I awake with a jerk, having broken into a cold sweat from the nightmare; Jason is not there. The hospital room is brighter now; the sun has come out and is shining through the window. It is late morning, and Jason has left the TV on so I can watch the news. This is when I first saw what happened to Samara Anderson. The news reporter stands outside Jimmy Dandy’s. The bar and police tape are visible in the background; beyond the police tape, the rest of the image is blurry. It is a chilly fall morning as the reporter, Corny O’Connell, stands before the camera, delivering his report to the audience. Corny wears black gloves, a skull hat, and a black trench coat buttoned up to his mid-chest. Corny’s speech is even as he gives his grim crime report. “Good morning; we are here live at the LA Mesa Shopping Center this morning, the shopping center is the site of last night’s brutal crime.” The screen flashes to the car with its windows shattered; it vaguely looks like blood covers the shattered Glass on the driver’s side of the vehicle. Corny’s voice plays over the video package, which switches to a picture of a middle-aged blonde woman.
“Samara Anderson, the victim, is forty-two years old; Ms. Anderson was discovered clinging to life in the parking lot by a security guard at around three am this morning.” He continues, “Ms. Anderson is a single mother of two young children and a popular bartender at Jimmy Dandy’s Bar at the LA Mesa Shopping Center.” “The Los Alamos security company guard dispatches emergency services upon finding Ms. Anderson.” The photos keep flipping of Samara working the bar with customers. She wears a cheesy smile on her face, and a customer leers at her ass in short shorts. “Ms. Anderson is unresponsive at the scene and has been taken by EMS to St. Ferrell’s Hospital Center. There is no word on her condition at this hour.” The screen displays one last photo of Samara Anderson and her two kids at a birthday party. Then the camera switches back to Corny. Corny looks straight into the camera, saying, “Police have no suspects at this time, and the victim’s family has not commented at this hour.” Corny pauses. He clicks his tongue, then says, “As of this moment, this violent act against Ms. Anderson could be another example of random acts of violence that have become a trend across the country.” Corny frowns, then pauses before saying, “This is Corny O’Connell reporting live from the LA Mesa Shopping Center in nearby Cedar Valley. Now, back to Melissa in the studio.” The studio crew appears on screen and moves to the next story. A cold sensation comes over me, a flashback to twenty years ago; similar crimes occur when I have my experiences with Uncle Tony as a child. Could it be that Uncle Tony is back? I need to see Samara Anderson in person to determine if Uncle Tony is the one who attacked her.
I awake with a jerk, having broken into a cold sweat from the nightmare; Jason is not there. The hospital room is brighter now; the sun has come out and is shining through the window. It is late morning, and Jason has left the TV on so I can watch the news. This is when I first saw what happened to Samara Anderson. The news reporter stands outside Jimmy Dandy’s. The bar and police tape are visible in the background; beyond the police tape, the rest of the image is blurry. It is a chilly fall morning as the reporter, Corny O’Connell, stands before the camera, delivering his report to the audience. Corny wears black gloves, a skull hat, and a black trench coat buttoned up to his mid-chest. Corny’s speech is even as he gives his grim crime report. “Good morning; we are here live at the LA Mesa Shopping Center this morning, the shopping center is the site of last night’s brutal crime.” The screen flashes to the car with its windows shattered; it vaguely looks like blood covers the shattered Glass on the driver’s side of the vehicle. Corny’s voice plays over the video package, which switches to a picture of a middle-aged blonde woman.
“Samara Anderson, the victim, is forty-two years old; Ms. Anderson was discovered clinging to life in the parking lot by a security guard at around three am this morning.” He continues, “Ms. Anderson is a single mother of two young children and a popular bartender at Jimmy Dandy’s Bar at the LA Mesa Shopping Center.” “The Los Alamos security company guard dispatches emergency services upon finding Ms. Anderson.” The photos keep flipping of Samara working the bar with customers. She wears a cheesy smile on her face, and a customer leers at her ass in short shorts. “Ms. Anderson is unresponsive at the scene and has been taken by EMS to St. Ferrell’s Hospital Center. There is no word on her condition at this hour.” The screen displays one last photo of Samara Anderson and her two kids at a birthday party. Then the camera switches back to Corny. Corny looks straight into the camera, saying, “Police have no suspects at this time, and the victim’s family has not commented at this hour.” Corny pauses. He clicks his tongue, then says, “As of this moment, this violent act against Ms. Anderson could be another example of random acts of violence that have become a trend across the country.” Corny frowns, then pauses before saying, “This is Corny O’Connell reporting live from the LA Mesa Shopping Center in nearby Cedar Valley. Now, back to Melissa in the studio.” The studio crew appears on screen and moves to the next story. A cold sensation comes over me, a flashback to twenty years ago; similar crimes occur when I have my experiences with Uncle Tony as a child. Could it be that Uncle Tony is back? I need to see Samara Anderson in person to determine if Uncle Tony is the one who attacked her.
Chapter 6
Jason returns later in the afternoon; the doctor wants me to stay one more night in the hospital, which I am OK with, as I will use it as my chance to see Samara. Jason will cover the shift tonight, and I promise to listen. After the doctor leaves, we sit together, sipping coffee from a trendy shop in town. The news replays the day’s major stories, with Samara Anderson’s attack being a focal point. Jason mentions the growing presence of police and press, underscoring the incident’s significance. I ask if he knows Samara’s room and condition. Jason hesitates, “According to the nurse on this floor, Samara is in the ICU down the hall from you on the right side; she is in a coma but is stable right now.” Then Jason drops the bombshell: “Word is this attack is similar to the Demon Sucker attacks in 1992.” I nod as old memories resurface. “I was only six at the time,” I recall, “but I remember my parents discussing the attacks. I’ve watched documentaries and listened to podcasts on the case over the years.” The Demon Sucker—who attacked but never killed seven women in the Park Village area in fall 1992—matches my Uncle Tony’s timeline, both disappearing after my encounter with him. One victim, participating anonymously in the 2019 Netflix true crime series, “The Demon Sucker, a Utah Vampire,” describes Uncle as her attacker, unable to forget his pale eyes and yellow beard during the assault. This cyclical pattern of attacks eerily echoes my experience, suggesting a ritualistic nature to the horrors I faced then and now.
Jason returns later in the afternoon; the doctor wants me to stay one more night in the hospital, which I am OK with, as I will use it as my chance to see Samara. Jason will cover the shift tonight, and I promise to listen. After the doctor leaves, we sit together, sipping coffee from a trendy shop in town. The news replays the day’s major stories, with Samara Anderson’s attack being a focal point. Jason mentions the growing presence of police and press, underscoring the incident’s significance. I ask if he knows Samara’s room and condition. Jason hesitates, “According to the nurse on this floor, Samara is in the ICU down the hall from you on the right side; she is in a coma but is stable right now.” Then Jason drops the bombshell: “Word is this attack is similar to the Demon Sucker attacks in 1992.” I nod as old memories resurface. “I was only six at the time,” I recall, “but I remember my parents discussing the attacks. I’ve watched documentaries and listened to podcasts on the case over the years.” The Demon Sucker—who attacked but never killed seven women in the Park Village area in fall 1992—matches my Uncle Tony’s timeline, both disappearing after my encounter with him. One victim, participating anonymously in the 2019 Netflix true crime series, “The Demon Sucker, a Utah Vampire,” describes Uncle as her attacker, unable to forget his pale eyes and yellow beard during the assault. This cyclical pattern of attacks eerily echoes my experience, suggesting a ritualistic nature to the horrors I faced then and now.
Chapter 7
I eat dinner, which is standard hospital food, and then I wait for the shift change. I am nervous when I sneak out of bed at 11 pm and peer out the door of my hospital room. The hospital socks on my feet keep me from slipping on the floor, and before I leave the room, I tie the back of my hospital gown so I don’t show my ass to everyone. The hospital staff has taken me off the heart monitor early in the morning, so I do not have to drag the monitor with me.
I eat dinner, which is standard hospital food, and then I wait for the shift change. I am nervous when I sneak out of bed at 11 pm and peer out the door of my hospital room. The hospital socks on my feet keep me from slipping on the floor, and before I leave the room, I tie the back of my hospital gown so I don’t show my ass to everyone. The hospital staff has taken me off the heart monitor early in the morning, so I do not have to drag the monitor with me.
I look out the door. The nurse at the desk is turned away, talking on the phone. I hear the clatter of a metal cart in the hallway and the soft beep of a machine left on. These sounds make me more alert and nervous. As I move down the hall, the lights flicker, casting strange shadows on the walls. The hospital feels different, almost threatening, and the air seems colder. Everything familiar now feels a little scary, and I can’t shake the sense of dread.
It is a Saturday night, and a shift change, so there aren’t many staff on the floor. I have about twenty minutes to go back and forth. I sneak through my door and go to my right. The ICU is on my floor down the hall; I walk with purpose to the double gates at the end of the hall.
The air in the room is thick. I walk over to Samara; she is beautiful, even under the badges from being cut up by broken Glass. I touch her hand, but there is no reaction. The blood drips from the bag into the tube and her left arm. I look at her legs. The blanket lies over her, tucked in the sides of the bed. I take a deep breath and pull up the blanket; she is wearing the same gown and socks as I am. “I’m sorry, I have to know,” I say out loud, talking to myself more than her. I lift the gown. I get goosebumps; on her right thigh, there’s a scar from the incision. I start to breathe hard, and the air in the room grows thicker. My vision starts to fog, and I feel dizzy; I back away from the bed. I back into something.
I turn around, and it is Uncle. “Hi, Peanut,” he hisses. The monitors in the room go off, and the lights flicker. I scream as Uncle Tony laughs, his leathery hand touching me on my face. “Soon,” he hisses. Uncle looks at me; his eyes flicker from pale to yellow. He moves his mouth to mine, and he holds me tight. I cannot move. “You have grown up so pretty, peanut.” He sniffs my hair; he smells sour, like rotten flesh; he kisses me, sticking his tongue to my mouth. My skin crawls. That’s when the room goes dark.
The air in the room is thick. I walk over to Samara; she is beautiful, even under the badges from being cut up by broken Glass. I touch her hand, but there is no reaction. The blood drips from the bag into the tube and her left arm. I look at her legs. The blanket lies over her, tucked in the sides of the bed. I take a deep breath and pull up the blanket; she is wearing the same gown and socks as I am. “I’m sorry, I have to know,” I say out loud, talking to myself more than her. I lift the gown. I get goosebumps; on her right thigh, there’s a scar from the incision. I start to breathe hard, and the air in the room grows thicker. My vision starts to fog, and I feel dizzy; I back away from the bed. I back into something.
I turn around, and it is Uncle. “Hi, Peanut,” he hisses. The monitors in the room go off, and the lights flicker. I scream as Uncle Tony laughs, his leathery hand touching me on my face. “Soon,” he hisses. Uncle looks at me; his eyes flicker from pale to yellow. He moves his mouth to mine, and he holds me tight. I cannot move. “You have grown up so pretty, peanut.” He sniffs my hair; he smells sour, like rotten flesh; he kisses me, sticking his tongue to my mouth. My skin crawls. That’s when the room goes dark.
Chapter 8
Bree Goff hated working Saturdays at the local TCBY, especially when she had to close with Toby. He was lazy and only did enough to keep his job. Bree tied her hair back and started wiping down the machines. “Toby,” she called, wanting help so she could leave sooner. He didn’t answer, so she kept working. As she bent over to clean, she didn’t hear the storeroom door open. A shadow moved behind her, and when she stood up, a hand landed on her shoulder. She screamed and spun around. It was Toby, eyes red from smoking. “You idiot, you scared me,” she said. “Sorry, bro, I just stepped out,” he joked, pretending to smoke. Bree rolled her eyes. “Did you lock the back door?” she asked. “Of course, I’m a stoner, not an idiot,” he replied. Bree wasn’t convinced. She handed him the cloth. “Finish the machines. I’ll check the stock for tomorrow.” “You got it, boss lady,” Toby said, saluting. Bree shook her head and walked to the back. Toby watched her as she left. “Just six more months and I’ll be out of here,” Bree thought. She planned to finish community college early and move to California with her boyfriend, Tim, who was ten years older and worked at a movie studio. Her parents weren’t thrilled, but they wanted to support her dreams. She agreed to finish her degree before moving. Bree checked the stockroom, making sure everything was ready for the next day. As she moved boxes, she heard a noise. At first, she thought it was the freezer, but then she realized it was the back door alarm. “Toby!” she yelled. No answer. She cursed and left the storeroom. The lights were off. “Why did he turn off the lights?” she wondered. She walked to the back door, which was open. She looked outside, but the alley was empty. She locked the door and thought, “Serves him right if he’s locked out.” She turned back and saw a dark figure moving across the store. “This idiot,” she muttered, thinking it was Toby. She walked toward the front, but the rag she’d given Toby was on the floor, and he was gone. “Toby, come on, I want to get out of here,” she called. A door slammed in the back. “How can he be in two places at once?” she wondered, blaming it on being tired. She went to turn on the lights, but nothing happened. “Great,” she mumbled. The freezer door was open, banging from the fan. “You’d better not be smoking in there,” she yelled. As she got closer, the air felt heavy, and she grew dizzy. The freezer door swung open, and a man in a hat and trench coat stood inside, holding gloves and a cane. He looked demonic, smiling with yellow teeth. Toby was on the floor, not moving. The figure moved toward her quickly. Bree ran for the front of the store, the figure close behind. She fumbled for her keys, dropping them. As she bent to pick them up, the cane swung past her head. She grabbed the keys and lunged for the door, but a hand grabbed her leg. She kicked back, hitting the figure. Her hands shook as she tried to unlock the door. It slipped, and she was shoved against the glass. She saw a man across the street and screamed. Then she was pulled back into darkness.
Bree Goff hated working Saturdays at the local TCBY, especially when she had to close with Toby. He was lazy and only did enough to keep his job. Bree tied her hair back and started wiping down the machines. “Toby,” she called, wanting help so she could leave sooner. He didn’t answer, so she kept working. As she bent over to clean, she didn’t hear the storeroom door open. A shadow moved behind her, and when she stood up, a hand landed on her shoulder. She screamed and spun around. It was Toby, eyes red from smoking. “You idiot, you scared me,” she said. “Sorry, bro, I just stepped out,” he joked, pretending to smoke. Bree rolled her eyes. “Did you lock the back door?” she asked. “Of course, I’m a stoner, not an idiot,” he replied. Bree wasn’t convinced. She handed him the cloth. “Finish the machines. I’ll check the stock for tomorrow.” “You got it, boss lady,” Toby said, saluting. Bree shook her head and walked to the back. Toby watched her as she left. “Just six more months and I’ll be out of here,” Bree thought. She planned to finish community college early and move to California with her boyfriend, Tim, who was ten years older and worked at a movie studio. Her parents weren’t thrilled, but they wanted to support her dreams. She agreed to finish her degree before moving. Bree checked the stockroom, making sure everything was ready for the next day. As she moved boxes, she heard a noise. At first, she thought it was the freezer, but then she realized it was the back door alarm. “Toby!” she yelled. No answer. She cursed and left the storeroom. The lights were off. “Why did he turn off the lights?” she wondered. She walked to the back door, which was open. She looked outside, but the alley was empty. She locked the door and thought, “Serves him right if he’s locked out.” She turned back and saw a dark figure moving across the store. “This idiot,” she muttered, thinking it was Toby. She walked toward the front, but the rag she’d given Toby was on the floor, and he was gone. “Toby, come on, I want to get out of here,” she called. A door slammed in the back. “How can he be in two places at once?” she wondered, blaming it on being tired. She went to turn on the lights, but nothing happened. “Great,” she mumbled. The freezer door was open, banging from the fan. “You’d better not be smoking in there,” she yelled. As she got closer, the air felt heavy, and she grew dizzy. The freezer door swung open, and a man in a hat and trench coat stood inside, holding gloves and a cane. He looked demonic, smiling with yellow teeth. Toby was on the floor, not moving. The figure moved toward her quickly. Bree ran for the front of the store, the figure close behind. She fumbled for her keys, dropping them. As she bent to pick them up, the cane swung past her head. She grabbed the keys and lunged for the door, but a hand grabbed her leg. She kicked back, hitting the figure. Her hands shook as she tried to unlock the door. It slipped, and she was shoved against the glass. She saw a man across the street and screamed. Then she was pulled back into darkness.
Chapter 9
My eyes adjust. I am looking for a light. It is a hospital bed light. My body jerks. I am back in my room. The heart monitor is back on me. As I gain more consciousness, I realize that I have oxygen in my nose and an IV in my arm. The last thing I remember is being in Samara’s room; I see the incision in her leg, and then Uncle. Then darkness. My hospital room door opens, and it’s my Mom. She looks tired. Jason must have called her, and she must have driven from Salt Lake City. “You are awake,” she stammers as she walks in. “Hi, Mom,” I say, my mouth dry. My Mom approaches me, and she looks older these days. After I disappeared for a day, at the age of six, with my Uncle to a special place, it took a toll on my parents’ marriage. They are already having issues. They do their best to hide it. But I hear the fighting most nights. That prompts Uncle Tony’s appearance, and he tells me he is there to help and love me. My Mom walks over to the bed. “How are you feeling?” “Like crap,” is my response. “Not sure why you sneak over to the ICU unit when you’re sick,” is my Mom’s response. “I want to see something. Can I have some cold water?” That is my response. My Mom grabs the water pitcher on the table. “We’ll talk about this when I get back,” she responds. She walks out of the room. I take the strength I have and get my phone. I look at it. “Shit, it is after midnight. I miss the show opening,” I think to myself. I open up my phone passcode. I see a text message from Jason that reads, Listen to this. I click it, and it is a link from a year ago. It is an archive from the show; it plays. Let the nightmares begin. “Hello, caller,” I state firmly. Hi, mistress Belle, the female voice states. Hello, caller. To whom am I speaking? “My name is Samara. I want to tell a scary story.” “Oh shit, Samara is a caller.” Her story is similar to mine when I was a child. Her uncle is Toby, who appeared to her for a month in the 1980s; she is also from Park Villages. Then, after a month, her parents sent her to a children’s hospital due to fearing the visions she was having, fearing she had schizophrenia. Once at the hospital, Uncle Toby stops visiting her, and she never sees him again. Uncle Toby is just a part of an overactive imagination at that age. I remember the call, but don’t know how to find it. I keep my private life private to the viewers, and mine goes deeper than hers. Not even Jason knows about my experiences; only my parents know them. I move on after that night and don’t even give the call another thought, keeping the memories of my Uncle in the deep recesses of my mind. I receive hundreds of paranormal stories nightly, but I can’t recall them all. Mom returns with a pitcher of ice water. I close my phone. Jason will have to wait. “So please explain why you are in that girl’s room,” Mom says in a firm voice as she pours me some water. I take a sip. “I want to see if she is a victim of something,” My mother scoffs. “We are not back to that old stuff again,” she says with judgment in her voice. My Mom is not OK with my imaginary friend, Uncle Tony. My father insists it is a phase, and my mother worries it is more. There is a history of mental health issues on her side of the family; the most prevalent is her brother Jon, who has schizophrenia with psychotic features. She fears I will become like him, as we begin discussing our shared experience of seeing things at the same age. My Uncle currently lives in an institution; as he gets older, the symptoms get worse, and he becomes a danger to himself and others. He insists that giant cockroaches live at a small roadside hotel in Texas. Along with many other abnormal thoughts come visions. When he is eighteen, the decision is to put him into the institution after he tries to kill my mother with a hammer. My mother is happy now that I’ve learned I won’t talk about seeing him anymore; it means I won’t be like my Uncle. She always discourages me from insisting that he take me to a special place, blaming it on my father’s and the school’s gross incompetence. That day, I got lost in the basement. She hates that I insist the Uncle Tony incident is somehow connected to a demon sucker. I let her say her piece about how all this is nonsense, and there is no uncle, never is, and no connection between him and the demon sucker. I am thankful when the night nurse comes in to check on me and informs my Mom she has to go, as they allow her special permission to stay with me after my episode, but now I need to rest. My mother leans over; she looks at me, and love fills her eyes. She takes a deep breath. “We’ll talk more tomorrow,” she says. She kisses me. I know she loves me, but she refuses to acknowledge certain facts that would shatter her idealized view of our existence. It is bad enough that her daughter has become a night owl who hosts a show about paranormal encounters.
My eyes adjust. I am looking for a light. It is a hospital bed light. My body jerks. I am back in my room. The heart monitor is back on me. As I gain more consciousness, I realize that I have oxygen in my nose and an IV in my arm. The last thing I remember is being in Samara’s room; I see the incision in her leg, and then Uncle. Then darkness. My hospital room door opens, and it’s my Mom. She looks tired. Jason must have called her, and she must have driven from Salt Lake City. “You are awake,” she stammers as she walks in. “Hi, Mom,” I say, my mouth dry. My Mom approaches me, and she looks older these days. After I disappeared for a day, at the age of six, with my Uncle to a special place, it took a toll on my parents’ marriage. They are already having issues. They do their best to hide it. But I hear the fighting most nights. That prompts Uncle Tony’s appearance, and he tells me he is there to help and love me. My Mom walks over to the bed. “How are you feeling?” “Like crap,” is my response. “Not sure why you sneak over to the ICU unit when you’re sick,” is my Mom’s response. “I want to see something. Can I have some cold water?” That is my response. My Mom grabs the water pitcher on the table. “We’ll talk about this when I get back,” she responds. She walks out of the room. I take the strength I have and get my phone. I look at it. “Shit, it is after midnight. I miss the show opening,” I think to myself. I open up my phone passcode. I see a text message from Jason that reads, Listen to this. I click it, and it is a link from a year ago. It is an archive from the show; it plays. Let the nightmares begin. “Hello, caller,” I state firmly. Hi, mistress Belle, the female voice states. Hello, caller. To whom am I speaking? “My name is Samara. I want to tell a scary story.” “Oh shit, Samara is a caller.” Her story is similar to mine when I was a child. Her uncle is Toby, who appeared to her for a month in the 1980s; she is also from Park Villages. Then, after a month, her parents sent her to a children’s hospital due to fearing the visions she was having, fearing she had schizophrenia. Once at the hospital, Uncle Toby stops visiting her, and she never sees him again. Uncle Toby is just a part of an overactive imagination at that age. I remember the call, but don’t know how to find it. I keep my private life private to the viewers, and mine goes deeper than hers. Not even Jason knows about my experiences; only my parents know them. I move on after that night and don’t even give the call another thought, keeping the memories of my Uncle in the deep recesses of my mind. I receive hundreds of paranormal stories nightly, but I can’t recall them all. Mom returns with a pitcher of ice water. I close my phone. Jason will have to wait. “So please explain why you are in that girl’s room,” Mom says in a firm voice as she pours me some water. I take a sip. “I want to see if she is a victim of something,” My mother scoffs. “We are not back to that old stuff again,” she says with judgment in her voice. My Mom is not OK with my imaginary friend, Uncle Tony. My father insists it is a phase, and my mother worries it is more. There is a history of mental health issues on her side of the family; the most prevalent is her brother Jon, who has schizophrenia with psychotic features. She fears I will become like him, as we begin discussing our shared experience of seeing things at the same age. My Uncle currently lives in an institution; as he gets older, the symptoms get worse, and he becomes a danger to himself and others. He insists that giant cockroaches live at a small roadside hotel in Texas. Along with many other abnormal thoughts come visions. When he is eighteen, the decision is to put him into the institution after he tries to kill my mother with a hammer. My mother is happy now that I’ve learned I won’t talk about seeing him anymore; it means I won’t be like my Uncle. She always discourages me from insisting that he take me to a special place, blaming it on my father’s and the school’s gross incompetence. That day, I got lost in the basement. She hates that I insist the Uncle Tony incident is somehow connected to a demon sucker. I let her say her piece about how all this is nonsense, and there is no uncle, never is, and no connection between him and the demon sucker. I am thankful when the night nurse comes in to check on me and informs my Mom she has to go, as they allow her special permission to stay with me after my episode, but now I need to rest. My mother leans over; she looks at me, and love fills her eyes. She takes a deep breath. “We’ll talk more tomorrow,” she says. She kisses me. I know she loves me, but she refuses to acknowledge certain facts that would shatter her idealized view of our existence. It is bad enough that her daughter has become a night owl who hosts a show about paranormal encounters.
Chapter 10
Once Mom and the nurse leave, I put the show’s streaming cast on my phone. Jason listens to a story and seems fine, so the show proceeds without issues. I hear about the latest victim when the news breaks at 3 am. “Kip Bay here, and this is a KRWP 100.9 news break. There are very few details at this hour, but police are looking into an attack on two young people at a local TCBY. Both are found unconscious after a call to police by a witness who states he sees the young woman at the door, banging for help when an unseen assailant pulls her back. Currently, there is little information available about the attacks. Both are stable and are at a local hospital for further treatment.” Kip speaks about other stories, but I know this is the beginning. I look out the window. In reflection, I see my Uncle; he is smiling at me.
For centuries, the concept of ‘others’ lay buried, almost forgotten. This ancient race, woven into myths and whispers of long-lost civilizations, was placed on Earth by Morg, a being of unutterable power. Once revered as gods, they exerted control over humanity through terror and awe. Yet, with the march of time and human progress, their dominion faltered. Humanity’s turn to new deities and burgeoning science relegated the others to the shadowy depths of the Earth, their presence all but eradicated from the surface world. Legends speak of Morg as an enigmatic force who shaped the others, granting them abilities beyond human comprehension. Myths suggest Morg emerged from the cosmic void, seeking dominion over the Earth through the others, his intricate design weaving them into the very fabric of human history. At the forefront of their crusade to reclaim their former supremacy is Enyo, a most determined leader. He longs for an era when the others were venerated, and humanity knelt before them. Lydia became instrumental in this quest. Her innocence and yearning for acceptance were potent forces, capable of bridging realms and igniting the path for the others’ return to corporeal form. But Lydia resisted, severing their connection and banishing Enyo, thrusting him back into obscurity.
Once Mom and the nurse leave, I put the show’s streaming cast on my phone. Jason listens to a story and seems fine, so the show proceeds without issues. I hear about the latest victim when the news breaks at 3 am. “Kip Bay here, and this is a KRWP 100.9 news break. There are very few details at this hour, but police are looking into an attack on two young people at a local TCBY. Both are found unconscious after a call to police by a witness who states he sees the young woman at the door, banging for help when an unseen assailant pulls her back. Currently, there is little information available about the attacks. Both are stable and are at a local hospital for further treatment.” Kip speaks about other stories, but I know this is the beginning. I look out the window. In reflection, I see my Uncle; he is smiling at me.
For centuries, the concept of ‘others’ lay buried, almost forgotten. This ancient race, woven into myths and whispers of long-lost civilizations, was placed on Earth by Morg, a being of unutterable power. Once revered as gods, they exerted control over humanity through terror and awe. Yet, with the march of time and human progress, their dominion faltered. Humanity’s turn to new deities and burgeoning science relegated the others to the shadowy depths of the Earth, their presence all but eradicated from the surface world. Legends speak of Morg as an enigmatic force who shaped the others, granting them abilities beyond human comprehension. Myths suggest Morg emerged from the cosmic void, seeking dominion over the Earth through the others, his intricate design weaving them into the very fabric of human history. At the forefront of their crusade to reclaim their former supremacy is Enyo, a most determined leader. He longs for an era when the others were venerated, and humanity knelt before them. Lydia became instrumental in this quest. Her innocence and yearning for acceptance were potent forces, capable of bridging realms and igniting the path for the others’ return to corporeal form. But Lydia resisted, severing their connection and banishing Enyo, thrusting him back into obscurity.
Despite this setback, Enyo’s resolve did not wane. For a decade, he has methodically plotted his return, obsessively believing that the temple’s reopening will herald the others’ flesh-bound resurgence. Enyo’s dream is not just personal—his ambition is vast. He seeks to guarantee that the others rise triumphant over humanity, reinstating themselves as the true divine beings of Earth. The ritual of returning requires sacrifices, former ‘peanuts’ from the corridors of history, whom Enyo treats as mere pawns. Morg, in Enyo’s dreams, reveals cryptic instructions for the ritual, illustrating the path to dominance. As Enyo eagerly anticipates the others’ return, his heart swells with an emotion long absent, as he envisions reclaiming the earthly kingdom he so desperately covets.
The rain hits the window in my hospital room as I wake. As my brain wakes up, I remember the events from the night before; fear creeps in. Uncle is on a mission, and I am unsure how to stop him. What is the mission? Is it the same as when I was six, to take me away and to be able to use my body to help his friends come to life again? That scares me as a child; I trust him. He is supposed to love me, but leaving my Mom and Dad will not happen, nor will helping his friends after all. When I refuse, he reveals his true self, a face I’ve tried to forget over the years. I have to fight for my life and somehow believe I can defeat him. It still haunts my mind at times; it is one of the reasons I do not sleep at night, and there are other reasons, too. The nightmares are worse at night than during the day. As I lie in my hospital bed, I wonder if there will be a connection between the latest victim and my Uncle. I need to find out.
Jason arrives in the early afternoon. The news has no immediate updates on the latest developments of the two teens who were attacked last night. Jason is interested in why I am in Samara’s room. Having your mother and boyfriend talk to each other is the worst feeling. “I hope it has nothing to do with what I said to you the other night,” he states, referring to the archived show voice clip he sends me. “No, I already decided I want to see her; it has nothing to do with you.” I take his hand. He smiles at me. “What do you see, or what do you want to see?” he asks. I look away from him.
Should I tell him the truth? I look back and say, “I want to see if the bites match the demon sucker.” “I think this is all connected.” Jason raises his eyebrows. “Connected how?” I draw a deep breath. I told Jason about Uncle Tony, the events when I was six, and what I remembered about the special place. I told him I connected it to the demon sucker a long time ago, and now, after the voice clip he sent me, I believe Samara and my uncles are the same.
Additionally, I believe the latest victim is also connected. He looks at me and asks, “How can I help you?” “I don’t know. Is there any word on who the last two victims are and what hospital they are at?” “All they are saying is it’s a male and female, but there is no word on what hospital they are at and their conditions.” “Shit, maybe I’m crazy, and there is no connection; maybe there is no Uncle Tony.” Jason frowns, “The shit I hear over the last five years with your show, I think there is one, and I know if anyone sees it, it will be you.” I smile. He is probably right. Having him believe me gives me a new sense of direction. “You think you can call your connection at the police department and get some information?” He sighs, “I’ll do it, but I hate talking to her.” Jason’s ex is a detective for the local police department. I know they talk occasionally, and he has called her for information concerning issues in the past.
We are unsure whether he can sweet-talk her into giving up information, but at this point, we have few options. Jason goes to make the call while I look up some info on the demon sucker case from the 1990s. I was young at the time, so I am unsure if the attacker ever goes after two victims at once. According to reports at the time, it is only female victims, and for the first time, I realize that they are all in my family’s neighborhood or not far from it. When my Uncle leaves on certain nights, he is doing that. What is the connection between the attacks and me? I remember some of that time in a special place; he needed it, and I did it for a specific purpose.
I am in Ms. Amber’s classroom, sitting in the back, waiting for Daddy to get me. My legs swing back and forth in excitement as I wait. I am more excited when I see that Uncle is there. He never shows himself outside of my room. Notably, he comes to school for me. He puts his finger over his lips and winks. The door opens slightly. With Ms. Amber’s back to me, I slide out of the chair and walk out the door. Uncle greets me with a hug, which I really like. He takes my hand and says, “The special place is ready; I want to see it.” “Yes,” I pipe. We walk; I forget about Daddy; he will be late anyway.
As we reach the end of the hall, a mist envelops us, and we disappear into it—the special place lies beyond the mist cloud. The special place is nothing I expected; it is ancient and made of stone, featuring Tuscan columns, a term I will learn to appreciate later in life. Large fire pits burn with flames surrounding the entire area; I remember the intense heat. Statues stand around the room. It is of creatures I have never seen before or since. I am with my Uncle, so I am not afraid; we walk around the place, and he gives each statue an odd name. Each creature has lizard-like features mixed with human characteristics and also possesses demonic animal features.
The rain hits the window in my hospital room as I wake. As my brain wakes up, I remember the events from the night before; fear creeps in. Uncle is on a mission, and I am unsure how to stop him. What is the mission? Is it the same as when I was six, to take me away and to be able to use my body to help his friends come to life again? That scares me as a child; I trust him. He is supposed to love me, but leaving my Mom and Dad will not happen, nor will helping his friends after all. When I refuse, he reveals his true self, a face I’ve tried to forget over the years. I have to fight for my life and somehow believe I can defeat him. It still haunts my mind at times; it is one of the reasons I do not sleep at night, and there are other reasons, too. The nightmares are worse at night than during the day. As I lie in my hospital bed, I wonder if there will be a connection between the latest victim and my Uncle. I need to find out.
Jason arrives in the early afternoon. The news has no immediate updates on the latest developments of the two teens who were attacked last night. Jason is interested in why I am in Samara’s room. Having your mother and boyfriend talk to each other is the worst feeling. “I hope it has nothing to do with what I said to you the other night,” he states, referring to the archived show voice clip he sends me. “No, I already decided I want to see her; it has nothing to do with you.” I take his hand. He smiles at me. “What do you see, or what do you want to see?” he asks. I look away from him.
Should I tell him the truth? I look back and say, “I want to see if the bites match the demon sucker.” “I think this is all connected.” Jason raises his eyebrows. “Connected how?” I draw a deep breath. I told Jason about Uncle Tony, the events when I was six, and what I remembered about the special place. I told him I connected it to the demon sucker a long time ago, and now, after the voice clip he sent me, I believe Samara and my uncles are the same.
Additionally, I believe the latest victim is also connected. He looks at me and asks, “How can I help you?” “I don’t know. Is there any word on who the last two victims are and what hospital they are at?” “All they are saying is it’s a male and female, but there is no word on what hospital they are at and their conditions.” “Shit, maybe I’m crazy, and there is no connection; maybe there is no Uncle Tony.” Jason frowns, “The shit I hear over the last five years with your show, I think there is one, and I know if anyone sees it, it will be you.” I smile. He is probably right. Having him believe me gives me a new sense of direction. “You think you can call your connection at the police department and get some information?” He sighs, “I’ll do it, but I hate talking to her.” Jason’s ex is a detective for the local police department. I know they talk occasionally, and he has called her for information concerning issues in the past.
We are unsure whether he can sweet-talk her into giving up information, but at this point, we have few options. Jason goes to make the call while I look up some info on the demon sucker case from the 1990s. I was young at the time, so I am unsure if the attacker ever goes after two victims at once. According to reports at the time, it is only female victims, and for the first time, I realize that they are all in my family’s neighborhood or not far from it. When my Uncle leaves on certain nights, he is doing that. What is the connection between the attacks and me? I remember some of that time in a special place; he needed it, and I did it for a specific purpose.
I am in Ms. Amber’s classroom, sitting in the back, waiting for Daddy to get me. My legs swing back and forth in excitement as I wait. I am more excited when I see that Uncle is there. He never shows himself outside of my room. Notably, he comes to school for me. He puts his finger over his lips and winks. The door opens slightly. With Ms. Amber’s back to me, I slide out of the chair and walk out the door. Uncle greets me with a hug, which I really like. He takes my hand and says, “The special place is ready; I want to see it.” “Yes,” I pipe. We walk; I forget about Daddy; he will be late anyway.
As we reach the end of the hall, a mist envelops us, and we disappear into it—the special place lies beyond the mist cloud. The special place is nothing I expected; it is ancient and made of stone, featuring Tuscan columns, a term I will learn to appreciate later in life. Large fire pits burn with flames surrounding the entire area; I remember the intense heat. Statues stand around the room. It is of creatures I have never seen before or since. I am with my Uncle, so I am not afraid; we walk around the place, and he gives each statue an odd name. Each creature has lizard-like features mixed with human characteristics and also possesses demonic animal features.
Chapter 13
Uncle is proud of our work and even praises me for my help. “Our love for each other helps this place exist, and soon the old gods, the others, will come back and unite with human flesh as it is supposed to be, as it was long ago.” I am young, but I only know one God, and I state that. Uncle looks at me with a look foreign to the idea of one God. “That god is a god of man; we, the others, are the true ones, the only gods who are brought to earth by Morg and create humans, and then we are omitted from history and displaced due to human ignorance.” I look at him, confused; I am too young to understand. He looks at me; there is a sparkle in his eye. He kneels before me and places his hands on my tiny shoulders. “All you need to know, my peanut, is that you’re helping me and my family eat for the first time in a long time.” I smile. I am helping my Uncle.
The rain wakes me again, sounding like pebbles against the window. I must have fallen asleep while looking up more information; the medication tends to make me sleepy. Now, the others’ names are in my head; I remember them. I look over at Jason, asleep in the visitor’s chair. I checked my text messages, and my mom said she would see me at five with Dad. There is nothing like a daughter being sick to bring divorced parents together. I look at the time; it is ten minutes to four. I lean towards Jason and say his name gently. I can lightly touch his leg; I rub it with my fingertips. He wakes up ever so gently and smiles at me. He stretches, “Guess we both take cat naps with the rain.”
“Yes,” I say with a chuckle. “My parents are coming. Did you hear back from Vanessa?” I ask. He stirs in the chair. “Yeah, two teenagers, a boy and a girl; the boy has the least of it, they send them to another hospital outside of Parks Village, trying to keep down the panic about the demon sucker; the media is stirring already,” he states as he gets up and stretches. “So there is a connection?” I ask. “It seems that way; they suspect it, but she would not say it fully.” “OK,” I say. I think about my next move, our next move. “Tonight, please inform the studio that it will be an archive episode; let’s play the Bigfoot special. Record a message to play stating that, due to my vacation and illness on your end, we will play an archive episode this week.” Jason nods, “We need to look up a few things in old episodes,” I continue. Jason is listening with intensity. “Anyone with stories about scary imaginary friends and the word the others.” Jason looks at me with a perplexed expression.
“I get the imaginary friends, of course. Still, the others.” I explain to Uncle what he means when he takes me to the special place: he and the others are true gods and need my help to return to us here on Earth. Jason looks confused, “Sounds otherworldly. Still, OK.” Jason gets up. “Let me record the message. Send it over to the studio,” he says, looking at his watch. “Ryan will be there; I asked him to set the episode for me and the recording, and then I’ll start looking up what you asked me on the episodes I have downloaded at home.” I smile, “You always take care. You’ll be my boy toy.” “I would not have it any other way, my supernatural bitch,” Jason says back. He kisses me lightly on the lips. It makes me shiver all over. I can’t believe my uncle has the same plan as all those years ago.
Uncle is proud of our work and even praises me for my help. “Our love for each other helps this place exist, and soon the old gods, the others, will come back and unite with human flesh as it is supposed to be, as it was long ago.” I am young, but I only know one God, and I state that. Uncle looks at me with a look foreign to the idea of one God. “That god is a god of man; we, the others, are the true ones, the only gods who are brought to earth by Morg and create humans, and then we are omitted from history and displaced due to human ignorance.” I look at him, confused; I am too young to understand. He looks at me; there is a sparkle in his eye. He kneels before me and places his hands on my tiny shoulders. “All you need to know, my peanut, is that you’re helping me and my family eat for the first time in a long time.” I smile. I am helping my Uncle.
The rain wakes me again, sounding like pebbles against the window. I must have fallen asleep while looking up more information; the medication tends to make me sleepy. Now, the others’ names are in my head; I remember them. I look over at Jason, asleep in the visitor’s chair. I checked my text messages, and my mom said she would see me at five with Dad. There is nothing like a daughter being sick to bring divorced parents together. I look at the time; it is ten minutes to four. I lean towards Jason and say his name gently. I can lightly touch his leg; I rub it with my fingertips. He wakes up ever so gently and smiles at me. He stretches, “Guess we both take cat naps with the rain.”
“Yes,” I say with a chuckle. “My parents are coming. Did you hear back from Vanessa?” I ask. He stirs in the chair. “Yeah, two teenagers, a boy and a girl; the boy has the least of it, they send them to another hospital outside of Parks Village, trying to keep down the panic about the demon sucker; the media is stirring already,” he states as he gets up and stretches. “So there is a connection?” I ask. “It seems that way; they suspect it, but she would not say it fully.” “OK,” I say. I think about my next move, our next move. “Tonight, please inform the studio that it will be an archive episode; let’s play the Bigfoot special. Record a message to play stating that, due to my vacation and illness on your end, we will play an archive episode this week.” Jason nods, “We need to look up a few things in old episodes,” I continue. Jason is listening with intensity. “Anyone with stories about scary imaginary friends and the word the others.” Jason looks at me with a perplexed expression.
“I get the imaginary friends, of course. Still, the others.” I explain to Uncle what he means when he takes me to the special place: he and the others are true gods and need my help to return to us here on Earth. Jason looks confused, “Sounds otherworldly. Still, OK.” Jason gets up. “Let me record the message. Send it over to the studio,” he says, looking at his watch. “Ryan will be there; I asked him to set the episode for me and the recording, and then I’ll start looking up what you asked me on the episodes I have downloaded at home.” I smile, “You always take care. You’ll be my boy toy.” “I would not have it any other way, my supernatural bitch,” Jason says back. He kisses me lightly on the lips. It makes me shiver all over. I can’t believe my uncle has the same plan as all those years ago.
Chapter 14
It is always strange seeing my parents together after the divorce; both have gotten remarried and divorced again. They love each other, but they cannot stand living together. After the divorce, my Mom stayed in Parks Village, while my Dad moved two towns over. My parents share custody, so I spend some weekends with my Mom and some with my Dad. Seeing them sitting together is nostalgic; it reminds me of why I want to escape to that special place with my Uncle. “So, hunny, when are you going to better care of your health?” my Dad asks as he sips his nonfat latte from Starbucks. “I have been focusing on the show. I don’t think about it as much as I should,” I admit. “We, if you don’t, you will not have a show or a life,” my Mom responds. I avoid rolling my eyes, yet I relent and acknowledge that I had better manage my condition. “Your mother and I discuss, and we both know that you will not give up the show; your mother thinks you should.” I glare at my Mom with my best Oh my, drop that shit already look. She smiles at me. “We know you will not, and we accept it; it’s your baby, and you get good ratings.”
1.6 million nationwide, good for the 12:00 am to 5:00 am slot. “So we want a food delivery service, so your meals are ready to go, instead of late-night greasy foods.” He concludes. I am grateful for this, but tired of gas station food. The rest of the visit was great, and my parents left around 7 pm to go out to dinner together. They plan to return tomorrow, but I have decided to stay one more night to ensure stability. They depart. There has been no word from Jason since he texted me that he had sent the message to Ryan about tonight’s episode, and we are good to go.
Chapter 15
Jason sits in his cramped apartment, sifting through hundreds of archived episodes of the show, searching for any mention of stories about imaginary friends and the term ‘others’. He sits in the apartment, wearing no shirt and jeans, with a pizza for dinner. As he eats the thickly sliced pepperoni pizza, Jason enjoys hearing the word “others” in the file he is listening to. It is an episode from the show’s early days, dating back to around 2018. He has forgotten entirely the old format where guests speak on a topic; Lydia must have overlooked it. The episode begins with Lydia giving her introduction, followed by an introduction to the speaker, Dr. Harvey Wanton, from Xavier Community College in Xavier, Utah. He is a professor of religious studies and ancient history. At the time, he teaches a class on ancient religions, the new world, and their current impact on the world stage.
His course is the subject of the interview, a course on an ancient race of lizard-humanoid creatures that were the first inhabitants of the planet eons ago. The belief holds that their interaction with Earth creatures creates humans for them to feed on and enslave. As humans advance in thought, more self-will comes into play; we rebel and exile others to a place below us in the Earth’s crust, a concept that will later be referred to as “others’ space” in some writings. As we advance in our society, we become more decisive and idealistic and better understand the world. Meanwhile, the divide between them and us grows deeper and more pronounced, and the void widens, allowing other gods and religions to take their place in human consciousness. Its leader, whose name is unknown, decides, according to the ancient text from their history, to make an effort to move back up the chain and reestablish their dominance over us by showing their powers by devouring a young, innocent, which will lead them to enslave us again. These events took place eons ago, and many records no longer exist, yet some have survived in ancient writings. A caller asks why the others are sent deep into the Earth’s core as the species grows more confident and self-conscious, only to become weak. “According to many texts from old world history, any god, once it loses its hold on people, loses its power over them; it goes to another space of existence within the Earth’s core to live in a city of gold. Any god can still influence and interact on some level if they make it to the surface again, but not as fully as they could when in full power.” “Their influence is over the very young and those spiritually sensitive.” He continues, “Gods may not be dead, but they are locked away because we don’t need them as we once did, and these will do anything to keep power and gain control over us; they do not go away easily.” Lydia thanked him for his fascinating discussion piece on the others, then opened it up to listeners to speak to the doctor and her about it. Jason sits for a moment, considering the implications of everything that is happening and Lydia’s past. He looks at the clock; visiting hours are over, but he can FaceTime Lydia to discuss.
My phone rings at about 9 pm; it is Jason. I answer there, and he is in his shirtless glory, so hot. He plays the archived episode that I listened to several years ago. Now that I remember my Uncle’s special place, what the doctor says makes more sense; again, I put it into my brain’s backfill cabinet and forget about it. “Sipapu,” I say, remembering. “What?” Jason asks. “Sipapu, that is what he calls it, what uncle called it all those years ago.” Jason quickly enters the word into his search engine, and he reads the following; “In Native American mythology, it reads that the that the ancestors of the Mandan people and other tribes in ancient times emerge from a subterranean land through a cave on the north side of the Missouri River, it’s also believed to be the entrance to the underworld by the Hopi people.”
“The hollow earth theory,” I chime in. “The what?” is Jason’s response to my comment. “The Hollow Earth is a concept proposing that Earth is entirely hollow or contains a substantial interior space, a lost world of the sort,” I state late at night. A chill runs down my spine as I try to grasp the vastness of such an idea. My hands are slightly trembling; it feels like the ground beneath me might open up at any moment. Watching History Channel shows on YouTube during staycations is coming in handy. Jason notices the shift in the atmosphere, yet his curiosity prevails. “So there are people who believe that the earth is hollow and that there is a lost world in it?” Jason asks. “Many legends and folklore over the centuries have talked about lost cities in the center of the earth inhabited by humans, strange creatures, and subspecies.”
“So then we are dealing with some kind of gods that live in the center of the earth in the city,” Jason asks, shifting his body to get another slice of pizza. “I remember Uncle talking about his friends, lizards trapped in the earth’s center, and he needs to use me to help them escape.” Jason listens as he chews his pizza. “I think we need to try to get in touch with this doctor and talk to him more about this stuff.” “I’ll call the college in the am and see if he still works there; if he does, I’ll speak to him about this,” Jason says with a smile. I smile back, and it is a relief that someone believes me. “Thank you. I have held this for a long time,” I say, my voice cracking. “It’s OK now. I’m here, and we will figure this out together.” I smile and thank him. We say our goodbyes. Jason settles into bed and watches some YouTube. I return to my hospital bed and listen to the show’s rebroadcast. I take a deep breath. This is my life right now. I’m a supernatural bitch. I smile.
It is always strange seeing my parents together after the divorce; both have gotten remarried and divorced again. They love each other, but they cannot stand living together. After the divorce, my Mom stayed in Parks Village, while my Dad moved two towns over. My parents share custody, so I spend some weekends with my Mom and some with my Dad. Seeing them sitting together is nostalgic; it reminds me of why I want to escape to that special place with my Uncle. “So, hunny, when are you going to better care of your health?” my Dad asks as he sips his nonfat latte from Starbucks. “I have been focusing on the show. I don’t think about it as much as I should,” I admit. “We, if you don’t, you will not have a show or a life,” my Mom responds. I avoid rolling my eyes, yet I relent and acknowledge that I had better manage my condition. “Your mother and I discuss, and we both know that you will not give up the show; your mother thinks you should.” I glare at my Mom with my best Oh my, drop that shit already look. She smiles at me. “We know you will not, and we accept it; it’s your baby, and you get good ratings.”
1.6 million nationwide, good for the 12:00 am to 5:00 am slot. “So we want a food delivery service, so your meals are ready to go, instead of late-night greasy foods.” He concludes. I am grateful for this, but tired of gas station food. The rest of the visit was great, and my parents left around 7 pm to go out to dinner together. They plan to return tomorrow, but I have decided to stay one more night to ensure stability. They depart. There has been no word from Jason since he texted me that he had sent the message to Ryan about tonight’s episode, and we are good to go.
Chapter 15
Jason sits in his cramped apartment, sifting through hundreds of archived episodes of the show, searching for any mention of stories about imaginary friends and the term ‘others’. He sits in the apartment, wearing no shirt and jeans, with a pizza for dinner. As he eats the thickly sliced pepperoni pizza, Jason enjoys hearing the word “others” in the file he is listening to. It is an episode from the show’s early days, dating back to around 2018. He has forgotten entirely the old format where guests speak on a topic; Lydia must have overlooked it. The episode begins with Lydia giving her introduction, followed by an introduction to the speaker, Dr. Harvey Wanton, from Xavier Community College in Xavier, Utah. He is a professor of religious studies and ancient history. At the time, he teaches a class on ancient religions, the new world, and their current impact on the world stage.
His course is the subject of the interview, a course on an ancient race of lizard-humanoid creatures that were the first inhabitants of the planet eons ago. The belief holds that their interaction with Earth creatures creates humans for them to feed on and enslave. As humans advance in thought, more self-will comes into play; we rebel and exile others to a place below us in the Earth’s crust, a concept that will later be referred to as “others’ space” in some writings. As we advance in our society, we become more decisive and idealistic and better understand the world. Meanwhile, the divide between them and us grows deeper and more pronounced, and the void widens, allowing other gods and religions to take their place in human consciousness. Its leader, whose name is unknown, decides, according to the ancient text from their history, to make an effort to move back up the chain and reestablish their dominance over us by showing their powers by devouring a young, innocent, which will lead them to enslave us again. These events took place eons ago, and many records no longer exist, yet some have survived in ancient writings. A caller asks why the others are sent deep into the Earth’s core as the species grows more confident and self-conscious, only to become weak. “According to many texts from old world history, any god, once it loses its hold on people, loses its power over them; it goes to another space of existence within the Earth’s core to live in a city of gold. Any god can still influence and interact on some level if they make it to the surface again, but not as fully as they could when in full power.” “Their influence is over the very young and those spiritually sensitive.” He continues, “Gods may not be dead, but they are locked away because we don’t need them as we once did, and these will do anything to keep power and gain control over us; they do not go away easily.” Lydia thanked him for his fascinating discussion piece on the others, then opened it up to listeners to speak to the doctor and her about it. Jason sits for a moment, considering the implications of everything that is happening and Lydia’s past. He looks at the clock; visiting hours are over, but he can FaceTime Lydia to discuss.
My phone rings at about 9 pm; it is Jason. I answer there, and he is in his shirtless glory, so hot. He plays the archived episode that I listened to several years ago. Now that I remember my Uncle’s special place, what the doctor says makes more sense; again, I put it into my brain’s backfill cabinet and forget about it. “Sipapu,” I say, remembering. “What?” Jason asks. “Sipapu, that is what he calls it, what uncle called it all those years ago.” Jason quickly enters the word into his search engine, and he reads the following; “In Native American mythology, it reads that the that the ancestors of the Mandan people and other tribes in ancient times emerge from a subterranean land through a cave on the north side of the Missouri River, it’s also believed to be the entrance to the underworld by the Hopi people.”
“The hollow earth theory,” I chime in. “The what?” is Jason’s response to my comment. “The Hollow Earth is a concept proposing that Earth is entirely hollow or contains a substantial interior space, a lost world of the sort,” I state late at night. A chill runs down my spine as I try to grasp the vastness of such an idea. My hands are slightly trembling; it feels like the ground beneath me might open up at any moment. Watching History Channel shows on YouTube during staycations is coming in handy. Jason notices the shift in the atmosphere, yet his curiosity prevails. “So there are people who believe that the earth is hollow and that there is a lost world in it?” Jason asks. “Many legends and folklore over the centuries have talked about lost cities in the center of the earth inhabited by humans, strange creatures, and subspecies.”
“So then we are dealing with some kind of gods that live in the center of the earth in the city,” Jason asks, shifting his body to get another slice of pizza. “I remember Uncle talking about his friends, lizards trapped in the earth’s center, and he needs to use me to help them escape.” Jason listens as he chews his pizza. “I think we need to try to get in touch with this doctor and talk to him more about this stuff.” “I’ll call the college in the am and see if he still works there; if he does, I’ll speak to him about this,” Jason says with a smile. I smile back, and it is a relief that someone believes me. “Thank you. I have held this for a long time,” I say, my voice cracking. “It’s OK now. I’m here, and we will figure this out together.” I smile and thank him. We say our goodbyes. Jason settles into bed and watches some YouTube. I return to my hospital bed and listen to the show’s rebroadcast. I take a deep breath. This is my life right now. I’m a supernatural bitch. I smile.
Chapter 16
There is darkness; then flames burst from the fire pits on the floor. I am back in a special place. The statues of the long-forgotten others loom over me. I stand there, wearing my hospital gown. My ass is exposed, and so is my back; I can feel the cool air on my exposed areas. The flames jump, and I can feel the heat coming from them. Then I see her, a young girl in a crop top and jeans, lying on the ground. Her face is bloody and caked with dirt. She is semi-conscious; she looks at me, her eyes sad and fearful. I debate whether I should walk up to her, with flames and the statues staring down at me with dead eyes. I am mindful of my steps, unsure what this is, why it is happening, and how I arrived here. The girl is maybe twenty-eight or twenty-nine years old. She is very petite. I walk over to her; she is not in the best shape. “Hunny, are you OK?” She does not respond. Her breathing is shallow. She appears to have taken a pretty bad beating; there is an incision on her arm. Has Uncle taken it to the next level? Is he growing more aggressive? I kneel over and ask, “Are you OK?” I ask again. I touch her arm. It is cold to the touch. She looks at me; her eyes are black like marbles. “He’s coming for you; he’s going to get you,” she says. She smiles a sinister smile. She screams a blood-curdling scream. I stumble backward and fall on my ass; it hurts, hitting the ground. She rises into the air, her screams echoing continuously from her mouth. She rises three feet in the air and hovers, her arms and legs spread-eagled. Her head tilts to the ceiling. The screaming ceases, her head tilts forward, and she looks at me. “Help me,” she squeals. Tears come from her eyes. His face softens. She looks scared. With an intense force, she flies forward. She screams as she flies towards me. I react, roll out of the way, and she flies toward flames. I duck and roll and lie on my stomach; I watch in horror as she flies into one of the sets of flames. Her body becomes engulfed in flames, and her screams become louder as the flames burn her skin. I can smell her flesh burning, and I watch as it melts from her bones. Tears stream down my cheeks. “Why. Why?” I scream. My voice and her screams of pain echo throughout the chamber. The smell of burning flesh makes me sick to my stomach. I dry heave at the smell. Her screams end. She is dead. Her body hovers for a moment and then drops into the fire pit. It causes flames to jump when the body hits the pit with a thud. Her body continues to burn and starts caving in on itself as it burns in the flames, slowly becoming ashes. I stand there frozen with fear. The silence frightens me. The only noises are the crackling fires and the sizzling flesh of the burning body. I hear a maniacal laugh, breaking the silence and startling me. Then I hear the sound of boot heels clicking on the stone. My eyes fill with tears. Uncle emerges from the darkness, dressed in his top hat, with a short beard and short hair, a yellowish complexion, and wearing all black; his body is sleek and firm under the black outfit. He walks with a cane. It clicks on the ancient stone floor as well. He approaches me with a smile that masks his evil intentions. “It’s always been you, peanut; you are always the one we search for eons.” He stares at me as he approaches me. I curl up in a ball; the unknown woman’s body is still burning. “No matter how much you fight against it, you will lose, Brittany; she is just here as a blood sacrifice; it’s time they don’t survive.” He looks over at the burning body. “Now you, you’re the one, and soon you’re going to bring us back,” he says boomingly. All the flames flash, and creatures appear within the flames. They roar with excitement. Uncle stands there; his face morphs into the shape of a lizard creature like the others, hairless, slit for eyes, and a snout appears for a mouth. He looks at me through the slits. “You and that mortal will not stop us!” He knows about Jason. The creatures in the flames stir. “The world will be ours again; we will feast and rule.” I am six again. He looks at me, and “You’re the key,” he hisses. “You will suffer the most, and I’ll love it.” I am scared. He enjoys it. “All hail the Others,” he screams. All the flames go out; darkness engulfs me.
There is darkness; then flames burst from the fire pits on the floor. I am back in a special place. The statues of the long-forgotten others loom over me. I stand there, wearing my hospital gown. My ass is exposed, and so is my back; I can feel the cool air on my exposed areas. The flames jump, and I can feel the heat coming from them. Then I see her, a young girl in a crop top and jeans, lying on the ground. Her face is bloody and caked with dirt. She is semi-conscious; she looks at me, her eyes sad and fearful. I debate whether I should walk up to her, with flames and the statues staring down at me with dead eyes. I am mindful of my steps, unsure what this is, why it is happening, and how I arrived here. The girl is maybe twenty-eight or twenty-nine years old. She is very petite. I walk over to her; she is not in the best shape. “Hunny, are you OK?” She does not respond. Her breathing is shallow. She appears to have taken a pretty bad beating; there is an incision on her arm. Has Uncle taken it to the next level? Is he growing more aggressive? I kneel over and ask, “Are you OK?” I ask again. I touch her arm. It is cold to the touch. She looks at me; her eyes are black like marbles. “He’s coming for you; he’s going to get you,” she says. She smiles a sinister smile. She screams a blood-curdling scream. I stumble backward and fall on my ass; it hurts, hitting the ground. She rises into the air, her screams echoing continuously from her mouth. She rises three feet in the air and hovers, her arms and legs spread-eagled. Her head tilts to the ceiling. The screaming ceases, her head tilts forward, and she looks at me. “Help me,” she squeals. Tears come from her eyes. His face softens. She looks scared. With an intense force, she flies forward. She screams as she flies towards me. I react, roll out of the way, and she flies toward flames. I duck and roll and lie on my stomach; I watch in horror as she flies into one of the sets of flames. Her body becomes engulfed in flames, and her screams become louder as the flames burn her skin. I can smell her flesh burning, and I watch as it melts from her bones. Tears stream down my cheeks. “Why. Why?” I scream. My voice and her screams of pain echo throughout the chamber. The smell of burning flesh makes me sick to my stomach. I dry heave at the smell. Her screams end. She is dead. Her body hovers for a moment and then drops into the fire pit. It causes flames to jump when the body hits the pit with a thud. Her body continues to burn and starts caving in on itself as it burns in the flames, slowly becoming ashes. I stand there frozen with fear. The silence frightens me. The only noises are the crackling fires and the sizzling flesh of the burning body. I hear a maniacal laugh, breaking the silence and startling me. Then I hear the sound of boot heels clicking on the stone. My eyes fill with tears. Uncle emerges from the darkness, dressed in his top hat, with a short beard and short hair, a yellowish complexion, and wearing all black; his body is sleek and firm under the black outfit. He walks with a cane. It clicks on the ancient stone floor as well. He approaches me with a smile that masks his evil intentions. “It’s always been you, peanut; you are always the one we search for eons.” He stares at me as he approaches me. I curl up in a ball; the unknown woman’s body is still burning. “No matter how much you fight against it, you will lose, Brittany; she is just here as a blood sacrifice; it’s time they don’t survive.” He looks over at the burning body. “Now you, you’re the one, and soon you’re going to bring us back,” he says boomingly. All the flames flash, and creatures appear within the flames. They roar with excitement. Uncle stands there; his face morphs into the shape of a lizard creature like the others, hairless, slit for eyes, and a snout appears for a mouth. He looks at me through the slits. “You and that mortal will not stop us!” He knows about Jason. The creatures in the flames stir. “The world will be ours again; we will feast and rule.” I am six again. He looks at me, and “You’re the key,” he hisses. “You will suffer the most, and I’ll love it.” I am scared. He enjoys it. “All hail the Others,” he screams. All the flames go out; darkness engulfs me.
Chapter 17
Brittany McCall looks in the mirror; despite her choices, the years have been kind to her. “It’s almost showtime, Brit,” the beefy man calls into the backstage dressing area. Being a stripper was not her intention; she wanted to be an actress, but tragedy changed her fortune. Drug addiction and prostitution are part of it, and then she lies in a detox in Utah after ten years. She finds herself a new home and a path to recovery. She is young enough to make money with her body while figuring out her next move. For a small town, Parks Village has a lot of creeps. It reminds her of a creepy, unseen friend she had when she was six. She doesn’t remember all the details, but it is fun for a few weeks, even cute, then turns bad fast. When she feels it in bed with her, she makes a stand. She refuses to pay attention to him or anyone. It is powerless, and eventually, like most males, he disappears, tail between his legs, under the silent treatment. She checks herself in the mirror one last time. She smiles. She hits the stage. Less than an hour later, she returns to the dressing room, dressed to go home. Her shift is from 7 pm to 12 am; she has about $500 in her g-string today. She needs that for rent, and it’s the second time a professor from Xavier University has helped her. He gives her 300 himself for a lap dance. She needs to talk to him about taking classes; he always encourages her to do so, and probably wants to fuck a student. She will do it for him; he is sweet. She stuffs the cash in her wallet. She looks cute in her crop top and jeans. She thinks about a drink, but knowing it is after midnight, she decides to go home. She walks out of the dressing room. A fog hits her; she grows dizzy. She loses her vision for a second. Then whoosh. She stands in a temple. “What the fuck?” she stammers as she looks around in amazement. Flames rise from the ground through grates, and statues stand tall, depicting unknown creatures. The stone is ancient and smells musty. It stands in the corner, a shape. “Hello,” Brittany calls. The shape stands there, still, as if it were a statue. Brittany walks on the old stone; what is the place? She thinks to herself. Brittany can feel the heat from the fires. She looks at the stone statues; they are the ugliest ones she has ever seen. Brittany is unsure what they depict, but she has never seen anything like it. She catches a shadow in her peripheral vision. Brittany looks to her right. Nothing is there. What the hell, I am seeing things, she thinks to herself. She looks ahead; the shape is gone. She has gone crazy; she sees things, full hallucinations. Did someone spike her drink? She can feel the heat, smell the must, and touch the stones. Another shape moves.
“Hello,” she yells. Nothing. Silence. Her voice echoes throughout the chamber. She feels dreadful suddenly, as if death is approaching from behind. She feels the presence before it attacks. It is like a knife in her back. A pain near her heart, she gasps. She falls hard to the stone floor; it crawls over her. It weighs a great deal; she feels it pressing against her body. It whispers in her ear. “Hello there, peanut.” It is more of a hiss. It is back. The next few hours are torture as she is beaten and tortured by her Uncle. She attempts to fight back, but he is too powerful. He keeps saying she is here to see the extent of his abilities. She certainly knows he is not human. She lies in a lump after a while, unable to move.
Then, the girl in the hospital gown appears. She approaches her. She touches her and asks if she is OK. She is possessed to respond, “He’s coming for you; he will get you.” She is in pain as Brittany lifts off the ground into the air. Her mind can’t comprehend what is happening; she flies through the area, knocking the woman in a hospital gown backward. She then flies over to one of the fire pits, feeling flames at the soles of her feet. It is burning them. She knows she will fall into the pit. She feels the heat for a minute, her flesh burns, her mind shuts down from the pain, and then there is darkness.
Brittany McCall looks in the mirror; despite her choices, the years have been kind to her. “It’s almost showtime, Brit,” the beefy man calls into the backstage dressing area. Being a stripper was not her intention; she wanted to be an actress, but tragedy changed her fortune. Drug addiction and prostitution are part of it, and then she lies in a detox in Utah after ten years. She finds herself a new home and a path to recovery. She is young enough to make money with her body while figuring out her next move. For a small town, Parks Village has a lot of creeps. It reminds her of a creepy, unseen friend she had when she was six. She doesn’t remember all the details, but it is fun for a few weeks, even cute, then turns bad fast. When she feels it in bed with her, she makes a stand. She refuses to pay attention to him or anyone. It is powerless, and eventually, like most males, he disappears, tail between his legs, under the silent treatment. She checks herself in the mirror one last time. She smiles. She hits the stage. Less than an hour later, she returns to the dressing room, dressed to go home. Her shift is from 7 pm to 12 am; she has about $500 in her g-string today. She needs that for rent, and it’s the second time a professor from Xavier University has helped her. He gives her 300 himself for a lap dance. She needs to talk to him about taking classes; he always encourages her to do so, and probably wants to fuck a student. She will do it for him; he is sweet. She stuffs the cash in her wallet. She looks cute in her crop top and jeans. She thinks about a drink, but knowing it is after midnight, she decides to go home. She walks out of the dressing room. A fog hits her; she grows dizzy. She loses her vision for a second. Then whoosh. She stands in a temple. “What the fuck?” she stammers as she looks around in amazement. Flames rise from the ground through grates, and statues stand tall, depicting unknown creatures. The stone is ancient and smells musty. It stands in the corner, a shape. “Hello,” Brittany calls. The shape stands there, still, as if it were a statue. Brittany walks on the old stone; what is the place? She thinks to herself. Brittany can feel the heat from the fires. She looks at the stone statues; they are the ugliest ones she has ever seen. Brittany is unsure what they depict, but she has never seen anything like it. She catches a shadow in her peripheral vision. Brittany looks to her right. Nothing is there. What the hell, I am seeing things, she thinks to herself. She looks ahead; the shape is gone. She has gone crazy; she sees things, full hallucinations. Did someone spike her drink? She can feel the heat, smell the must, and touch the stones. Another shape moves.
“Hello,” she yells. Nothing. Silence. Her voice echoes throughout the chamber. She feels dreadful suddenly, as if death is approaching from behind. She feels the presence before it attacks. It is like a knife in her back. A pain near her heart, she gasps. She falls hard to the stone floor; it crawls over her. It weighs a great deal; she feels it pressing against her body. It whispers in her ear. “Hello there, peanut.” It is more of a hiss. It is back. The next few hours are torture as she is beaten and tortured by her Uncle. She attempts to fight back, but he is too powerful. He keeps saying she is here to see the extent of his abilities. She certainly knows he is not human. She lies in a lump after a while, unable to move.
Then, the girl in the hospital gown appears. She approaches her. She touches her and asks if she is OK. She is possessed to respond, “He’s coming for you; he will get you.” She is in pain as Brittany lifts off the ground into the air. Her mind can’t comprehend what is happening; she flies through the area, knocking the woman in a hospital gown backward. She then flies over to one of the fire pits, feeling flames at the soles of her feet. It is burning them. She knows she will fall into the pit. She feels the heat for a minute, her flesh burns, her mind shuts down from the pain, and then there is darkness.
Chapter 18
I wake up with a scream—a cold sweat running down my brow. I scream. The nurses come running in. I am rambling off, making no sense. More nurses come in to calm me down. I am hysterical. I’m having difficulty calming down; my heart rate is skyrocketing. I am in shock and keep screaming, “No,” over and over. They need to give me a sedative to relax me. I am fighting; I don’t want to sleep; I want to see him again. They hold me down; they restrain me. The needle pierces the skin in my right arm. The liquid enters my veins; I have to fight the sleepiness. My arms are tied down; I cannot fight anymore. The tiredness takes over me. I am out like a light.
Samara Anderson lies in the hospital; she has not regained consciousness. The night nurse is at the desk, putting in the notes from the last room run. The mist pumps under the ICU unit’s double doors. The nurse does not notice the fog, which rolls into the hallway and turns right. It is a living organism. It moves with a purpose. It slides under Samara’s door. It crawls up the hospital bed. It hovers for a moment as it considers its move. Then it swoops down into Samara’s face; it enters through her right eyeball. She lies there, still motionless. The body starts to convulse violently. Her mouth begins to foam. Her eyes open and roll into the back of her head. Her body shakes violently, and the foam around her mouth is getting whiter. Her head bangs against her pillow. She gasps for air. Her body slams into the bed; the heart monitor flatlines, her eyes glaze over, staring at the ceiling. The nurse runs into the room and hits the wall button for a code blue. It is too late; she is dead; the mist releases itself from her open mouth. It flies up in the air and passes through the ceiling.
Bree Geoff lies in a hospital bed about 5 miles away from the scene of Toby and her attack, trying to piece together the fragmented memories of that night. As she regains consciousness, Bree is haunted by a sense of familiarity about the attacking figure’s silhouette, sparking memories of a childhood ‘Uncle’ who unnervingly wanted to lie in bed with her. Though he vanished after she was allowed to sleep between her cautious parents, the unsettling memories linger. Now, she’s in the hospital, grappling with this mysterious attack. Police swarm her room with questions, yet the details elude her, shrouded by the fog of trauma. A good Samaritan had called the police on seeing her struggle, saving not just Bree but also Toby, who was found unconscious nearby. Despite the hospital’s safety, Bree feels uneasy. The lights flicker ominously in the small hours as she reaches for the call button, hoping to summon the nurse. Before she can press it, a gloved hand clamps over her mouth, muffling her scream. The figure looms over her, disguised as a surgeon, lifting a scalpel while her trembling fingers seek the button. As she finally presses it, the scalpel slices across her throat, and blood spills as her world fades to black. Security rushes in, finding Toby, recently discharged, in bloody scrubs, standing over her lifeless body. Comatose, he offers no explanation. His previous release from the hospital raises suspicions, leading authorities to believe he orchestrated her initial attack and faked his injuries. They suspect a return to fulfill a dark purpose, but his catatonic silence offers no answers.
Chapter 19
He stands in the special place, the Temple of Sipagu. After falling back into the void, he does not expect access to the temple to remain open. It means little Lydia is the key to his race’s return to the flesh world. The temple of Sipagu serves as the hub for the others, a subspecies placed on Earth by a being known as Morg. Eons ago, Morg broke through the surface of a cave system and evolved, interacting with the first humans who required divine guidance. The others possess abilities that make them gods to the lower species. As humans and other species interbreed, their offspring evolve. Over time, humans have ceased to fear or worship others. The others retreat underground to Earth’s core. A barrier prevents them from reaching the surface. The elders agree that human disbelief creates the barrier. Humans abandon the need for gods and choose science. The barrier will break when one of the others transforms into actual flesh.
The one chosen is Eyno, the leader of the others, who speaks with Morg. He understands the ritual: blood sacrifices and the taking of an innocent life in a special place; through this ritual, the others rule again. Before Lydia, all attempts fail; then comes Lydia, and the Demon Sucker attacks in Parks Village. It is perfect until the girl resists. He tries to break her will, but it backfires; her self-will pushes him back into the flames and the city of gods.
He stands in the temple as the flames burn. The killing of the two is necessary. He must demonstrate his abilities and dominance over humans to the girl. The others form in the flames. “Soon the space opens, and you enter the world again.” They stir. “I will seize the girl and end her. I will take her body and lead you back to the surface. You will feast. Humans grow vile and lazy. They deny gods. We will show them.”
“Is the girl still unmarked?” a booming voice asks. It is Esties, an elder. “Yes. When I visited her, she was unmarked,” he answers. The creatures stir with excitement. Enyo smiles. “And the humans who help her?” Esties asks. “I have plans for them. They will see my power soon.” The creatures stir again. Soon he will be human, the gates will open, and a long-starved feast will begin.
Chapter 20
Dr. Harvey Wanton sits at a table in the Kitty Titty. He is here to see his favorite dancer, but she is not in. He decides to watch the show and drink. A dark-haired man approaches as Wanton sips his Jack and Coke.
“Dr. Wanton?” the man asks.
“Do I know you?” Wanton says.
“My name is Jason Piazza. You did a late-night radio show a few years ago. You spoke about a class on ancient history and religions.”
Wanton thinks, then nods. “Yes. That supernatural show. How do you know to find me here?”
“I spoke to your secretary at the university. She said you were here.”
“She misspeaks,” Wanton says. “I am here to relax after classes.” He gestures to a chair. “You are here now. Have a drink. We can talk.”
Drinks arrive. Jason sits.
“So what do you want to know? Most call this a myth,” Wanton says.
“Where does the belief come from?” Jason asks.
“Many attribute it to Native American myth, but I think it goes back further. The San people of Southern Africa paint ancient lizard figures tied to the others in caves,” Wanton says.
“And the name?” Jason asks.
“Sumerian literature mentions ‘the others,’ sparse but aligned with that art,” Wanton says.
“Why so little compared to other gods?”
“Beliefs overlap. Dominant religions take the stage. Lesser ones fade,” Wanton says.
“What are the others?”
Theories vary. Some say ancient aliens. I say a subspecies from Earth’s center with abilities that seemed godlike to early humans,” Wanton says.
Jason feels a sense of disorientation as he processes everything Wanton has explained. The blend of ancient myth and eerie occurrences leaves him questioning his own reality. Could this all be true, or is it simply an overstrung imagination reacting to recent stress? “This is all new to me,” Jason says, trying to ground himself in the conversation. His mind drifts to Belle, wondering if her experiences were influenced by something as intangible as myth or something as corporeal as her consistent diabetic hypoglycemia. Was the hiss on the radio a supernatural sign, or just a symptom of low blood sugar? He feels the line between reality and imagination blur, wishing for clarity in the fog of uncertainty. “The Earth is old. We fool ourselves with modern science. Many veils remain. This is one. How did we get here?” Wanton says.
“What about other gods?” Jason asks.
“Some are historical. Others are stories to explain the world. The others likely see themselves as gods due to their abilities. When we no longer need them, they lose power and go underground. Their envy and need to control help trap them,” Wanton says.
“If people stop seeing them as gods, does that take power away?” Jason asks.
“Yes. That is why the others seek the weak and a leader to amplify presence,” Wanton says. “Today is ripe. After a crisis, many are vulnerable.”
“Sounds like demons,” Jason says.
“Possibly. Subspecies or something we label demonic. We still do not understand,” Wanton says. “Why the interest? These are obscure.”
Jason’s phone rings. He checks the screen. “Excuse me, ” he answers. “Jason,” Lydia’s Mom says, frantic. Get to the hospital ASAP. They sedate Lydia and move her to psych.” Jason stiffens. “Why?” “A breakdown. Just get here.”
Jason hangs up. “I’m sorry, doc. I have to go. I will call you.”
“I hope your friend is OK,” Wanton says.
“A friend is sick,” Jason says, rising.
“Don’t worry,” Wanton says. “I have it.” He hands a card. “Call me tomorrow.”
Jason takes the card and leaves.
Wanton signals for another drink. The blonde waitress walks over. “What’s up, Doc?” she says, Bronx accent thick.
“Robin, put that man’s drink on my tab. Bring a beer and two shots. And tell me Cherry is OK.”
“No one heard from her. Ju Ju plans to swing by her place. Unlike her not to show,” Robin says.
“Let me know,” Wanton says. A bad feeling settles.
I wake up with a scream—a cold sweat running down my brow. I scream. The nurses come running in. I am rambling off, making no sense. More nurses come in to calm me down. I am hysterical. I’m having difficulty calming down; my heart rate is skyrocketing. I am in shock and keep screaming, “No,” over and over. They need to give me a sedative to relax me. I am fighting; I don’t want to sleep; I want to see him again. They hold me down; they restrain me. The needle pierces the skin in my right arm. The liquid enters my veins; I have to fight the sleepiness. My arms are tied down; I cannot fight anymore. The tiredness takes over me. I am out like a light.
Samara Anderson lies in the hospital; she has not regained consciousness. The night nurse is at the desk, putting in the notes from the last room run. The mist pumps under the ICU unit’s double doors. The nurse does not notice the fog, which rolls into the hallway and turns right. It is a living organism. It moves with a purpose. It slides under Samara’s door. It crawls up the hospital bed. It hovers for a moment as it considers its move. Then it swoops down into Samara’s face; it enters through her right eyeball. She lies there, still motionless. The body starts to convulse violently. Her mouth begins to foam. Her eyes open and roll into the back of her head. Her body shakes violently, and the foam around her mouth is getting whiter. Her head bangs against her pillow. She gasps for air. Her body slams into the bed; the heart monitor flatlines, her eyes glaze over, staring at the ceiling. The nurse runs into the room and hits the wall button for a code blue. It is too late; she is dead; the mist releases itself from her open mouth. It flies up in the air and passes through the ceiling.
Bree Geoff lies in a hospital bed about 5 miles away from the scene of Toby and her attack, trying to piece together the fragmented memories of that night. As she regains consciousness, Bree is haunted by a sense of familiarity about the attacking figure’s silhouette, sparking memories of a childhood ‘Uncle’ who unnervingly wanted to lie in bed with her. Though he vanished after she was allowed to sleep between her cautious parents, the unsettling memories linger. Now, she’s in the hospital, grappling with this mysterious attack. Police swarm her room with questions, yet the details elude her, shrouded by the fog of trauma. A good Samaritan had called the police on seeing her struggle, saving not just Bree but also Toby, who was found unconscious nearby. Despite the hospital’s safety, Bree feels uneasy. The lights flicker ominously in the small hours as she reaches for the call button, hoping to summon the nurse. Before she can press it, a gloved hand clamps over her mouth, muffling her scream. The figure looms over her, disguised as a surgeon, lifting a scalpel while her trembling fingers seek the button. As she finally presses it, the scalpel slices across her throat, and blood spills as her world fades to black. Security rushes in, finding Toby, recently discharged, in bloody scrubs, standing over her lifeless body. Comatose, he offers no explanation. His previous release from the hospital raises suspicions, leading authorities to believe he orchestrated her initial attack and faked his injuries. They suspect a return to fulfill a dark purpose, but his catatonic silence offers no answers.
Chapter 19
He stands in the special place, the Temple of Sipagu. After falling back into the void, he does not expect access to the temple to remain open. It means little Lydia is the key to his race’s return to the flesh world. The temple of Sipagu serves as the hub for the others, a subspecies placed on Earth by a being known as Morg. Eons ago, Morg broke through the surface of a cave system and evolved, interacting with the first humans who required divine guidance. The others possess abilities that make them gods to the lower species. As humans and other species interbreed, their offspring evolve. Over time, humans have ceased to fear or worship others. The others retreat underground to Earth’s core. A barrier prevents them from reaching the surface. The elders agree that human disbelief creates the barrier. Humans abandon the need for gods and choose science. The barrier will break when one of the others transforms into actual flesh.
The one chosen is Eyno, the leader of the others, who speaks with Morg. He understands the ritual: blood sacrifices and the taking of an innocent life in a special place; through this ritual, the others rule again. Before Lydia, all attempts fail; then comes Lydia, and the Demon Sucker attacks in Parks Village. It is perfect until the girl resists. He tries to break her will, but it backfires; her self-will pushes him back into the flames and the city of gods.
He stands in the temple as the flames burn. The killing of the two is necessary. He must demonstrate his abilities and dominance over humans to the girl. The others form in the flames. “Soon the space opens, and you enter the world again.” They stir. “I will seize the girl and end her. I will take her body and lead you back to the surface. You will feast. Humans grow vile and lazy. They deny gods. We will show them.”
“Is the girl still unmarked?” a booming voice asks. It is Esties, an elder. “Yes. When I visited her, she was unmarked,” he answers. The creatures stir with excitement. Enyo smiles. “And the humans who help her?” Esties asks. “I have plans for them. They will see my power soon.” The creatures stir again. Soon he will be human, the gates will open, and a long-starved feast will begin.
Chapter 20
Dr. Harvey Wanton sits at a table in the Kitty Titty. He is here to see his favorite dancer, but she is not in. He decides to watch the show and drink. A dark-haired man approaches as Wanton sips his Jack and Coke.
“Dr. Wanton?” the man asks.
“Do I know you?” Wanton says.
“My name is Jason Piazza. You did a late-night radio show a few years ago. You spoke about a class on ancient history and religions.”
Wanton thinks, then nods. “Yes. That supernatural show. How do you know to find me here?”
“I spoke to your secretary at the university. She said you were here.”
“She misspeaks,” Wanton says. “I am here to relax after classes.” He gestures to a chair. “You are here now. Have a drink. We can talk.”
Drinks arrive. Jason sits.
“So what do you want to know? Most call this a myth,” Wanton says.
“Where does the belief come from?” Jason asks.
“Many attribute it to Native American myth, but I think it goes back further. The San people of Southern Africa paint ancient lizard figures tied to the others in caves,” Wanton says.
“And the name?” Jason asks.
“Sumerian literature mentions ‘the others,’ sparse but aligned with that art,” Wanton says.
“Why so little compared to other gods?”
“Beliefs overlap. Dominant religions take the stage. Lesser ones fade,” Wanton says.
“What are the others?”
Theories vary. Some say ancient aliens. I say a subspecies from Earth’s center with abilities that seemed godlike to early humans,” Wanton says.
Jason feels a sense of disorientation as he processes everything Wanton has explained. The blend of ancient myth and eerie occurrences leaves him questioning his own reality. Could this all be true, or is it simply an overstrung imagination reacting to recent stress? “This is all new to me,” Jason says, trying to ground himself in the conversation. His mind drifts to Belle, wondering if her experiences were influenced by something as intangible as myth or something as corporeal as her consistent diabetic hypoglycemia. Was the hiss on the radio a supernatural sign, or just a symptom of low blood sugar? He feels the line between reality and imagination blur, wishing for clarity in the fog of uncertainty. “The Earth is old. We fool ourselves with modern science. Many veils remain. This is one. How did we get here?” Wanton says.
“What about other gods?” Jason asks.
“Some are historical. Others are stories to explain the world. The others likely see themselves as gods due to their abilities. When we no longer need them, they lose power and go underground. Their envy and need to control help trap them,” Wanton says.
“If people stop seeing them as gods, does that take power away?” Jason asks.
“Yes. That is why the others seek the weak and a leader to amplify presence,” Wanton says. “Today is ripe. After a crisis, many are vulnerable.”
“Sounds like demons,” Jason says.
“Possibly. Subspecies or something we label demonic. We still do not understand,” Wanton says. “Why the interest? These are obscure.”
Jason’s phone rings. He checks the screen. “Excuse me, ” he answers. “Jason,” Lydia’s Mom says, frantic. Get to the hospital ASAP. They sedate Lydia and move her to psych.” Jason stiffens. “Why?” “A breakdown. Just get here.”
Jason hangs up. “I’m sorry, doc. I have to go. I will call you.”
“I hope your friend is OK,” Wanton says.
“A friend is sick,” Jason says, rising.
“Don’t worry,” Wanton says. “I have it.” He hands a card. “Call me tomorrow.”
Jason takes the card and leaves.
Wanton signals for another drink. The blonde waitress walks over. “What’s up, Doc?” she says, Bronx accent thick.
“Robin, put that man’s drink on my tab. Bring a beer and two shots. And tell me Cherry is OK.”
“No one heard from her. Ju Ju plans to swing by her place. Unlike her not to show,” Robin says.
“Let me know,” Wanton says. A bad feeling settles.
Chapter 21
Darkness is all I see. Then light floods in. I open my eyes. The room is different: it has no windows, TV, or monitors. A young woman in a nurse’s uniform, about twenty-eight, sits beside me, smiling.
“Good to see you up,” she says with a hint of a southern accent.
“Where am I?” I ask, throat dry.
“You’re still at St. Ferell’s. You’re on 6 North for observation,” she says. Psych.
“You had a rough episode. The doctors want to check more than your physical health,” she says.
I remember the special place, my Uncle in a decayed lizard form, and another girl who burns. It feels real.
“They’ll observe you. Don’t be scared. It’s a check-up,” the nurse says.
“Food and water?” I ask.
“Both,” she says, entering an order. “Dr. Martin will be here around 5 pm.”
Great. I stare at the blank wall, hoping Jason gets more from the professor. Uncle has haunted me for years. I breathe and close my eyes. His face appears. I open my eyes. The wall waits.
Jason closes his laptop. The feeling of being watched sticks. After meeting Wanton, he gained a deeper understanding of the others and the concept of the hollow Earth. A slam comes from the kitchen. His heart jumps. The kitchen door is closed. It eases open, then shuts. Another slam. He picks up his 38-ounce bat. He moves to the door. Rustling comes from the cabinets.
Darkness is all I see. Then light floods in. I open my eyes. The room is different: it has no windows, TV, or monitors. A young woman in a nurse’s uniform, about twenty-eight, sits beside me, smiling.
“Good to see you up,” she says with a hint of a southern accent.
“Where am I?” I ask, throat dry.
“You’re still at St. Ferell’s. You’re on 6 North for observation,” she says. Psych.
“You had a rough episode. The doctors want to check more than your physical health,” she says.
I remember the special place, my Uncle in a decayed lizard form, and another girl who burns. It feels real.
“They’ll observe you. Don’t be scared. It’s a check-up,” the nurse says.
“Food and water?” I ask.
“Both,” she says, entering an order. “Dr. Martin will be here around 5 pm.”
Great. I stare at the blank wall, hoping Jason gets more from the professor. Uncle has haunted me for years. I breathe and close my eyes. His face appears. I open my eyes. The wall waits.
Jason closes his laptop. The feeling of being watched sticks. After meeting Wanton, he gained a deeper understanding of the others and the concept of the hollow Earth. A slam comes from the kitchen. His heart jumps. The kitchen door is closed. It eases open, then shuts. Another slam. He picks up his 38-ounce bat. He moves to the door. Rustling comes from the cabinets.
Chapter 22
“Hello, I’m the owner. Is someone there?” he calls. The rustling stops. Thirty seconds of silence. Then a slam and more rustling. He sweats and inches closer. His hand shakes on the knob. The banging continues. He turns the knob and opens the door.
A man in black stands there. “Hi ya, Jason. Uncle is pleased to meet you.” Jason’s world goes black.
Wanton leaves the strip club around midnight. No word on Brittany. He heads to his car. A young woman stands across from it, about twenty-five, all in black. Their eyes meet. She smiles.
“Excuse me,” she says. “Can you tell me how to get to 100 Grove St? I’m not from here. My phone died.”
“I know it. I can drive you,” Waton says.
She smiles and follows him. A shadow watches them.
They drive and trade small talk. The name is Allyson Mullins, and she is from Cedar Island. Her car breaks down, so she hitchhikes from Point Pleasant Park. She works at TCBY and attends Xavier for nursing.
“I’m surprised I haven’t seen you on campus,” Wanton says.
“I keep to myself,” she says.
“Why?”
“Childhood stuff. Don’t like talking about it.”
“If you ever want to, I’ll listen,” he says.
She sees it first—a figure in the road. Wanton hits the brakes. The car stops inches away. Yellow eyes stare through the windshield.
“What in the world?” Wanton says. Allyson freezes. The “uncle” from her childhood still shadows her.
The figure lifts its arms. The windshield implodes. Glass slices Allyson’s throat. She slumps, blood pouring. Her eyes go black. She dies.
Wanton stares, stunned. The figure springs, lands before the car, and pulls Wanton through the broken Glass. Wanton hits the ground hard. Ribs crack. The figure climbs into the car, catches blood in a sliver of steel, then turns back. Steps approach. Yellow eyes narrow.
“Hi, doc. You know little about me. My name is Eyno. I’m one of the others you study. You are coming with me.” Darkness follows.
“Hello, I’m the owner. Is someone there?” he calls. The rustling stops. Thirty seconds of silence. Then a slam and more rustling. He sweats and inches closer. His hand shakes on the knob. The banging continues. He turns the knob and opens the door.
A man in black stands there. “Hi ya, Jason. Uncle is pleased to meet you.” Jason’s world goes black.
Wanton leaves the strip club around midnight. No word on Brittany. He heads to his car. A young woman stands across from it, about twenty-five, all in black. Their eyes meet. She smiles.
“Excuse me,” she says. “Can you tell me how to get to 100 Grove St? I’m not from here. My phone died.”
“I know it. I can drive you,” Waton says.
She smiles and follows him. A shadow watches them.
They drive and trade small talk. The name is Allyson Mullins, and she is from Cedar Island. Her car breaks down, so she hitchhikes from Point Pleasant Park. She works at TCBY and attends Xavier for nursing.
“I’m surprised I haven’t seen you on campus,” Wanton says.
“I keep to myself,” she says.
“Why?”
“Childhood stuff. Don’t like talking about it.”
“If you ever want to, I’ll listen,” he says.
She sees it first—a figure in the road. Wanton hits the brakes. The car stops inches away. Yellow eyes stare through the windshield.
“What in the world?” Wanton says. Allyson freezes. The “uncle” from her childhood still shadows her.
The figure lifts its arms. The windshield implodes. Glass slices Allyson’s throat. She slumps, blood pouring. Her eyes go black. She dies.
Wanton stares, stunned. The figure springs, lands before the car, and pulls Wanton through the broken Glass. Wanton hits the ground hard. Ribs crack. The figure climbs into the car, catches blood in a sliver of steel, then turns back. Steps approach. Yellow eyes narrow.
“Hi, doc. You know little about me. My name is Eyno. I’m one of the others you study. You are coming with me.” Darkness follows.
Chapter 23
Dr. Brown comes to my room, asks many questions, and writes on a yellow pad. He leaves, speaks to the nurse, and returns. “Dr. Brown feels it’s safe for a visit from your parents. We will keep you for a few more days.”
Great. More walls while Uncle is loose.
“Need anything?” the nurse asks.
“No. I’ll nap,” I say.
I sleep in daylight. Peace holds. Deep down, I know I must face Uncle and bring this to a close. I fought for my life as a child. No one believed me. Jason is the only man I have a meaningful relationship with besides my Dad. He never pressures me. At thirty, I am still a virgin. I focus on work, graduate in three years, join the station, and build Midnight Horrors. Callers share. The world is not simple.
Jason joins in year three. We click. He tells me about Baltimore, his father’s death, his mother’s addiction, foster homes, abuse, escape west, school, and work. I share. He listens.
My parents arrive. My Mom fears I will become like her brother. “Please let them help you,” she says.
I nod. “Have you spoken to Jason?” I ask. “I want them to let him visit.”
They look at each other. My Dad says, “Jason went up to Xavier the other day. We haven’t heard from him.”
“We are sure he’s OK,” Mom says.
“What day is it?” I ask.
“You’ve been here two weeks. Today is October 9th,” Dad says.
Time slides. “I’ll go to Xavier if he doesn’t answer,” Dad adds.
“Thanks,” I say. Worry sits like stone. The cycle was a month when I was a kid. How long now?
Dr. Brown comes to my room, asks many questions, and writes on a yellow pad. He leaves, speaks to the nurse, and returns. “Dr. Brown feels it’s safe for a visit from your parents. We will keep you for a few more days.”
Great. More walls while Uncle is loose.
“Need anything?” the nurse asks.
“No. I’ll nap,” I say.
I sleep in daylight. Peace holds. Deep down, I know I must face Uncle and bring this to a close. I fought for my life as a child. No one believed me. Jason is the only man I have a meaningful relationship with besides my Dad. He never pressures me. At thirty, I am still a virgin. I focus on work, graduate in three years, join the station, and build Midnight Horrors. Callers share. The world is not simple.
Jason joins in year three. We click. He tells me about Baltimore, his father’s death, his mother’s addiction, foster homes, abuse, escape west, school, and work. I share. He listens.
My parents arrive. My Mom fears I will become like her brother. “Please let them help you,” she says.
I nod. “Have you spoken to Jason?” I ask. “I want them to let him visit.”
They look at each other. My Dad says, “Jason went up to Xavier the other day. We haven’t heard from him.”
“We are sure he’s OK,” Mom says.
“What day is it?” I ask.
“You’ve been here two weeks. Today is October 9th,” Dad says.
Time slides. “I’ll go to Xavier if he doesn’t answer,” Dad adds.
“Thanks,” I say. Worry sits like stone. The cycle was a month when I was a kid. How long now?
Chapter 24
She has not thought of him in years, Uncle Joe. In 1978, he appeared like a twisted Mary Poppins. The look does not comfort her. She forgets him over the decades. Now her granddaughter’s story brings him back. A man walks out of a closet. Two nights ago, he stood over six-year-old Amy. Amy screams. Her parents run. The next day, her daughter calls and asks if vivid nightmares are normal. She says yes, hoping it is true.
Elizabeth lives in Los Angeles now. Her husband, Brad, writes horror films. A big reboot deal is brewing. She eats alone and plans to video chat with Amy. She finishes the Chinese food and sips wine. A creak sounds upstairs. The house is new. She ignores it. Her phone buzzes. Video call. She accepts. Quinn sits with Amy.
“Hi, Grandma,” Quinn says, coaxing Amy.
“Hi, my babies,” Elizabeth says. “It was just a dream, baby girl. No monster gets you while I’m here.”
Amy shifts. Her eyes widen as she looks at the tablet. She screams. “What is it?” Quinn asks—Elizabeth’s face twists. The phone falls. The camera points at the ceiling. Gasping sounds fill the call. Quinn hangs up and calls Brad. Amy still screams.
Brad leaves the studio meeting and rushes home. He calls 911 while driving. He enters the quiet house. “Hello, honey?” No answer. He turns on the dining room lights. Elizabeth sits slumped, her head back, her eyes fixed on nothing, her skin pale, and blood trails from her nose. The ambulance lights flash outside. EMS rushes in. She is DOA, age 51, brain aneurysm.
Little Amy knows better. She sees Uncle Joe behind her grandmother on the screen. His finger rests on his lips. He places his hands on Grandma’s head. Elizabeth dies gasping. Blood has spilled. More will spill.
She has not thought of him in years, Uncle Joe. In 1978, he appeared like a twisted Mary Poppins. The look does not comfort her. She forgets him over the decades. Now her granddaughter’s story brings him back. A man walks out of a closet. Two nights ago, he stood over six-year-old Amy. Amy screams. Her parents run. The next day, her daughter calls and asks if vivid nightmares are normal. She says yes, hoping it is true.
Elizabeth lives in Los Angeles now. Her husband, Brad, writes horror films. A big reboot deal is brewing. She eats alone and plans to video chat with Amy. She finishes the Chinese food and sips wine. A creak sounds upstairs. The house is new. She ignores it. Her phone buzzes. Video call. She accepts. Quinn sits with Amy.
“Hi, Grandma,” Quinn says, coaxing Amy.
“Hi, my babies,” Elizabeth says. “It was just a dream, baby girl. No monster gets you while I’m here.”
Amy shifts. Her eyes widen as she looks at the tablet. She screams. “What is it?” Quinn asks—Elizabeth’s face twists. The phone falls. The camera points at the ceiling. Gasping sounds fill the call. Quinn hangs up and calls Brad. Amy still screams.
Brad leaves the studio meeting and rushes home. He calls 911 while driving. He enters the quiet house. “Hello, honey?” No answer. He turns on the dining room lights. Elizabeth sits slumped, her head back, her eyes fixed on nothing, her skin pale, and blood trails from her nose. The ambulance lights flash outside. EMS rushes in. She is DOA, age 51, brain aneurysm.
Little Amy knows better. She sees Uncle Joe behind her grandmother on the screen. His finger rests on his lips. He places his hands on Grandma’s head. Elizabeth dies gasping. Blood has spilled. More will spill.
Chapter 24
Staring at the wall gets old, so I walk the psych floor. I feel grateful for my health. Others here struggle more. Johnny believes he is Santa. Eighteen-year-old Catalina sees a spirit. Adam thinks he is the son of God. Jamie battles rage. Ralph lies compulsively.
I enter the day room. A 1960s monster movie plays.
Johnny smiles. “Hello, young lady. Tell Santa your name.”
“Lydia,” I say.
He closes his eyes, then opens them. “You’re on the good list,” he says.
A tall, lanky girl glares. I move to the TV.
On the couch, Ralph brags. Cat rolls her eyes. Adam speaks in a stage voice. I watch the creature chase a blonde on the screen.
“Yo, new girl, what’s the problem?” the lanky girl snaps.
“What did I do?” I ask.
“You’re here. I don’t like it.” She rises. Cat says, “She does this to all the new people.” Jamie simmers. Johnny stands. “Be nice,” he says, and pats my shoulder. Jamie leaves. “Thank you,” I say.
Cat waves me to the couch. “I’m Cat,” she says. “That’s Adam, that’s Ralph, that’s Johnny. Jamie is angry.”
“Nice to meet you,” I say. “I’m here for a check-up.”
Ralph grins. “Don’t they all say that?”
We watch. Dinner includes chicken, mashed potatoes, mixed vegetables, and a roll. Ralph claims he ate better in the war. No one answers.
I ask Cat about the spirit. I expect another “uncle,” but her story takes a different turn.
Staring at the wall gets old, so I walk the psych floor. I feel grateful for my health. Others here struggle more. Johnny believes he is Santa. Eighteen-year-old Catalina sees a spirit. Adam thinks he is the son of God. Jamie battles rage. Ralph lies compulsively.
I enter the day room. A 1960s monster movie plays.
Johnny smiles. “Hello, young lady. Tell Santa your name.”
“Lydia,” I say.
He closes his eyes, then opens them. “You’re on the good list,” he says.
A tall, lanky girl glares. I move to the TV.
On the couch, Ralph brags. Cat rolls her eyes. Adam speaks in a stage voice. I watch the creature chase a blonde on the screen.
“Yo, new girl, what’s the problem?” the lanky girl snaps.
“What did I do?” I ask.
“You’re here. I don’t like it.” She rises. Cat says, “She does this to all the new people.” Jamie simmers. Johnny stands. “Be nice,” he says, and pats my shoulder. Jamie leaves. “Thank you,” I say.
Cat waves me to the couch. “I’m Cat,” she says. “That’s Adam, that’s Ralph, that’s Johnny. Jamie is angry.”
“Nice to meet you,” I say. “I’m here for a check-up.”
Ralph grins. “Don’t they all say that?”
We watch. Dinner includes chicken, mashed potatoes, mixed vegetables, and a roll. Ralph claims he ate better in the war. No one answers.
I ask Cat about the spirit. I expect another “uncle,” but her story takes a different turn.
Chapter 25
Her story starts at eight. She gets lost in a national park and hides in a cave. A spider-like creature visits. It is the size of a cat. It crawls onto her chest while she drifts. She wakes to eight eyes and dripping fangs. Paralysis holds her. The spider presses closer. It strikes her neck. Pain explodes. A toxin floods her. She goes blind, then passes out.
She wakes weak and sees the spider corpse nearby. A beautiful woman with jet-black hair and black eyes stands over it, wearing a tunic with off-the-shoulder sleeves, her tan skin accentuating her features. The woman opens her mouth and screeches. She glides forward, hands outstretched. Eight hairy spider legs burst from her back and curl forward. Her jaw unhinges to reveal fangs. The cat passes out.
A ranger finds her two days later. The hospital treats hypothermia and dehydration, but no bite marks are visible. Yet Cat sees the spider woman everywhere, silent and staring. At sixteen, the woman speaks to Cat in her head and pushes her toward harm. Cat resists but breaks and attempts suicide. Her Dad arrives home early and saves her. Meds now keep the voice at bay.
“Do you still see her?” I ask.
Cat looks to the corner and nods. “She can’t speak now,” she says.
“Maybe it will be OK,” I say.
“Thanks,” she says.
We watch the news. Samara’s death leads. Bree’s death follows. A famous writer’s wife dies at 51 of a sudden aneurysm. I feel the ground shift. Uncle moves fast.
Another movie starts. Johnny and Jamie leave. I fight sleep. The door opens later. I hold still. Footsteps approach. Someone hovers over me.
The door opens wider. “Jamie, what are you doing?” a nurse says.
I open my eyes. Jamie stands over me, eyes fixed. “I just wanted to look at her,” she says, then leaves.
“Sorry,” the nurse says. “We’ll tell the doctor.” I stare at the ceiling.
Her story starts at eight. She gets lost in a national park and hides in a cave. A spider-like creature visits. It is the size of a cat. It crawls onto her chest while she drifts. She wakes to eight eyes and dripping fangs. Paralysis holds her. The spider presses closer. It strikes her neck. Pain explodes. A toxin floods her. She goes blind, then passes out.
She wakes weak and sees the spider corpse nearby. A beautiful woman with jet-black hair and black eyes stands over it, wearing a tunic with off-the-shoulder sleeves, her tan skin accentuating her features. The woman opens her mouth and screeches. She glides forward, hands outstretched. Eight hairy spider legs burst from her back and curl forward. Her jaw unhinges to reveal fangs. The cat passes out.
A ranger finds her two days later. The hospital treats hypothermia and dehydration, but no bite marks are visible. Yet Cat sees the spider woman everywhere, silent and staring. At sixteen, the woman speaks to Cat in her head and pushes her toward harm. Cat resists but breaks and attempts suicide. Her Dad arrives home early and saves her. Meds now keep the voice at bay.
“Do you still see her?” I ask.
Cat looks to the corner and nods. “She can’t speak now,” she says.
“Maybe it will be OK,” I say.
“Thanks,” she says.
We watch the news. Samara’s death leads. Bree’s death follows. A famous writer’s wife dies at 51 of a sudden aneurysm. I feel the ground shift. Uncle moves fast.
Another movie starts. Johnny and Jamie leave. I fight sleep. The door opens later. I hold still. Footsteps approach. Someone hovers over me.
The door opens wider. “Jamie, what are you doing?” a nurse says.
I open my eyes. Jamie stands over me, eyes fixed. “I just wanted to look at her,” she says, then leaves.
“Sorry,” the nurse says. “We’ll tell the doctor.” I stare at the ceiling.
Chapter 26
I wake at seven. I have breakfast in the day room. Jamie sits alone, glares, and then looks down. Ralph talks. Johnny seems more alert.
“How did you sleep?” Cat asks.
“OK. Weird encounter,” I say. “Jamie stood over my bed.”
“She does that,” Cat says.
“Sometimes she steals,” Johnny adds.
“I hope the staff stops it,” I say.
“They try,” Ralph says. I reserve judgment.
The day passes. Night comes. We watch a film. Jamie leaves early. Johnny stays. Cat says his alert days come and go.
After the movie, the others go to bed. I stay, feeling safe with the TV on. A shift sounds behind me. I turn. Johnny sits, eyes closed, breathing slowly. I turn back to the screen. The hero enters a spider cave, torch high.
A hiss sounds behind me. I turn.
Johnny is still. Uncle stands beside him, hand on his shoulder.
I scream. Staff rushes in. I am shaking. Johnny slumps, peaceful.
“It’s him,” I say, then catch myself. “Johnny. He needs help.”
A nurse checks. She looks at her partner and shakes her head.
I wake at seven. I have breakfast in the day room. Jamie sits alone, glares, and then looks down. Ralph talks. Johnny seems more alert.
“How did you sleep?” Cat asks.
“OK. Weird encounter,” I say. “Jamie stood over my bed.”
“She does that,” Cat says.
“Sometimes she steals,” Johnny adds.
“I hope the staff stops it,” I say.
“They try,” Ralph says. I reserve judgment.
The day passes. Night comes. We watch a film. Jamie leaves early. Johnny stays. Cat says his alert days come and go.
After the movie, the others go to bed. I stay, feeling safe with the TV on. A shift sounds behind me. I turn. Johnny sits, eyes closed, breathing slowly. I turn back to the screen. The hero enters a spider cave, torch high.
A hiss sounds behind me. I turn.
Johnny is still. Uncle stands beside him, hand on his shoulder.
I scream. Staff rushes in. I am shaking. Johnny slumps, peaceful.
“It’s him,” I say, then catch myself. “Johnny. He needs help.”
A nurse checks. She looks at her partner and shakes her head.
Chapter 27
Once things had settled down, I went to my room; Johnny had died of a heart attack, according to the official report. I knew better. I lay there, and all I could see was Uncle standing next to Johnny, his arm on the shoulder; he killed him. I did not understand why someone would kill an innocent person. All I could assume was that it was meant to get at and taunt me. It would be him and me soon enough; I had to be ready for what he brought to me.
The next morning, the unit was upset by Johnny’s death; we were all taking it hard. Jamie took it the hardest, as she had a close relationship with him. Sitting at the table, one of us, Cat, asked, “What happened?” I stated, “We were watching TV, and he started having difficulty breathing; I got scared, and I screamed.” Cat looked as if she was not confident that was true. “He is at peace now with the father, my father, and ours,” Adam stated. Ralph sat silently, appearing stunned and speechless. Jamie sat in the corner, stirring her tea; she, too, was at a loss for words. They had a group to discuss our feelings over Johnny’s loss; we were all present except Jamie. We all shared our thoughts and emotions about Johnny. I was starting to feel close to these people.
I decided to speak to Cat about my monster; she would understand. We spoke after lunch that afternoon. I told her my story. She listened carefully and intently, nodding as I shared all the details. “So now I think he’s going after me and taking out everyone associated with me until I’m all alone.” I felt a weight lifted off of me as I confided in her. She smiled; she was excited. I knew we had something in common. Cat exclaimed as she hugged me. It felt nice to receive a hug. “Does he stand in the corner like mine and just stare at you?” she asked. “No, he appears at will and sometimes pulls me into the special place.” “He appears to be more powerful than mine, but the medicine keeps her at bay as well,” she replied. “Yeah, yours sounds like a creep stalker standing there and just watching you,” I stated with a shrug. Cat laughed, “Hell yeah, we should. Maybe they’ll cancel each other if we can get them together.” I nodded. Maybe.
Dinner was lonely without Johnny, and Ralph was missing; he did not feel well and had dinner in his room. Cat and I settled in to watch another movie. Around halfway through, I had to go to the bathroom. I exited the room and walked toward the bathroom. I had to pass Ralph’s room, and as I did, I heard a noise coming from inside. My mind told me to ignore it, yet my heart knew I had to see if it was my Uncle. I stood there momentarily as I heard the muffled sound again. There was trepidation toward the door; I had to face the monster at some point. The muffled screaming grew louder; I was now at the door. My heart was pounding as my hand drew closer to the door. My hand was on the doorknob. I turned the knob. The door opened. Nothing. Ralph was lying there under his covers, moaning. No Uncle. Just a man in his room having a nightmare. My heart rate slowed down. I stood there for a moment to ensure there were no surprises. Nothing. The door closed behind me, and I went into the bathroom.
Jamie was there, looking in the mirror. She was wearing panties, a crop top, and slippers, and was putting her hair into a bun for sleep. She looked at me through the mirror; we locked eyes, and I walked towards the stall. I sat on the cold toilet to do my business. Why is she dressed like that? I thought to myself. The door opened again, and Jamie giggled. I heard the person’s shoes click on the floor as they walked across the bathroom to her. “Oh, Daddy,” she purred. Then I heard her whispering something. What was going on? Could she be having sex in the bathroom with someone? They didn’t budge.
I started hearing kissing and the disturbing sounds of hormones racing before sex began. The sounds grew heavier as the session progressed. Jamie and her partner didn’t care that I was in the toilet. As time passed, my legs started to tighten, and I could feel the ring of the toilet becoming imprinted on my butt cheeks. The sounds grew louder as they began to climax together in pure pleasure. It was a hard place to be in the stall as they had sex as if I were not there. She screamed with pleasure. I must be in a nightmare; this cannot be happening. She was getting her brains fucked out, and I was stuck in a toilet stall.
It all concluded in about five minutes, but it felt like an hour until the person with brown shoes left. “It’s all clear,” Jamie announced in her sweetheart’s voice. It felt good to stretch my legs and get my butt off that damn seat. I could feel the indent of the seat on my butt cheeks. I stepped out. Jamie stood there in all her glory, butt-naked. She had a fine-looking body and wanted me to know it. “Maybe next time you want to join,” she said delightedly. I had no response. I just looked at her, dumbfounded. “It’s okay. You’re not the first or the last to hear that. Johnny loved to watch, and I loved him watching.” “Going to miss that, sweetheart,” she stated, stretching her arms. I could still see the traces of her encounter. I just shook my head, speechless. “You can go, but don’t say a word. HE knows who you are and can make things very bad for you.” I just nodded my head. She walked out of the bathroom. My ass was still sore. I walked back to the day room. Cat looked at me and said, “What took you so long?”
“Nothing, just had to go bad, the food.” Cat shook her head in agreement and looked at the TV. So do I. My butt was still sore.
Chapter 28
“Nothing, just had to go bad, the food.” Cat shook her head in agreement and looked at the TV. So do I. My butt was still sore.
Chapter 28
As I lie in bed that night, I can’t shake the image of Jamie and that guy having sex in the bathroom. The “he” in question can only be one person: Dr. Brown. It occurs to me that this might explain why Jamie never seems to get into trouble for her antics, such as walking into rooms uninvited and taking things without permission. I wonder if this is the first time something like this has happened or just the latest episode in a disturbing pattern.
Am I jumping to conclusions? It’s all wild, and I’m trying to process a lot right now. I hear my door creak open, hoping it’s Jamie, eager to discuss the bathroom situation. But it’s not her or the night nurse. It’s Cat. She slips into the room. “I’m glad you’re up,” she whispers. “Are you okay?” I pop up in my bed, concerned. “I think I know what happened,” she says With…?” I prompt. “The bathroom. You heard Jamie and a mysterious man… well, you know.” I look at her, surprised. “Who told you?”
Cat glances at the door, indicating the night nurse may have spilled the beans. I nod, understanding. I draw a deep breath and share my experience with her. In this short time, I’ve grown to trust Cat. Just as I listened to her story, she listened to mine. She takes my hand when I finish and says, “It all makes sense now. Despite everything she does, she’s never been kicked out.” I agree and ask, “How long has she been here?”
“I’ve been here about thirty days. Jamie was here when I arrived. I don’t think we can get a straight answer from the guys.”
“It’s all relative. I know you’re doing well these days, and I’m hoping to get out soon, too, so screw Jamie if she stays longer,” I say firmly. Cat nods in agreement. “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. I know she likes messing with people; the girl has a lot of issues,” Cat says, squeezing my hand. Besides the shock of it and my ass being numb for a few hours, I’m fine,” I reply. Cat smiles. “Good. Let me get back to my room; rounds will be soon.” We hug, and she leaves. As she does, I see a dark shape following her out. The next day, I had a promising meeting with Dr. Brown, who said I was showing significant improvement and that he was considering letting me go home in a few days. As I leave, I notice a pair of brown shoes sitting near his office door—similar to the ones I saw the other night. I exit without saying a word. I’m ecstatic about my chance to leave soon, but I still haven’t heard anything about Jason. I can’t shake the nagging feeling that my Uncle has a plan. I am excited about sharing the news with my new friends.
As I turn the corner towards the common room, I see Jamie step out of her room. We lock eyes, and she blows me a kiss, smiling. I shake my head in disbelief as I continue toward the common area. The gang is gathered around, engrossed in a 1950s Halloween movie. I settle in to watch, too. I want to talk to Cat, but she’s so wrapped up in the movie that I hesitate to interrupt. When the movie goes to a commercial, I seize my chance. “Dr. Brown says I can get out of here soon.”
Am I jumping to conclusions? It’s all wild, and I’m trying to process a lot right now. I hear my door creak open, hoping it’s Jamie, eager to discuss the bathroom situation. But it’s not her or the night nurse. It’s Cat. She slips into the room. “I’m glad you’re up,” she whispers. “Are you okay?” I pop up in my bed, concerned. “I think I know what happened,” she says With…?” I prompt. “The bathroom. You heard Jamie and a mysterious man… well, you know.” I look at her, surprised. “Who told you?”
Cat glances at the door, indicating the night nurse may have spilled the beans. I nod, understanding. I draw a deep breath and share my experience with her. In this short time, I’ve grown to trust Cat. Just as I listened to her story, she listened to mine. She takes my hand when I finish and says, “It all makes sense now. Despite everything she does, she’s never been kicked out.” I agree and ask, “How long has she been here?”
“I’ve been here about thirty days. Jamie was here when I arrived. I don’t think we can get a straight answer from the guys.”
“It’s all relative. I know you’re doing well these days, and I’m hoping to get out soon, too, so screw Jamie if she stays longer,” I say firmly. Cat nods in agreement. “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. I know she likes messing with people; the girl has a lot of issues,” Cat says, squeezing my hand. Besides the shock of it and my ass being numb for a few hours, I’m fine,” I reply. Cat smiles. “Good. Let me get back to my room; rounds will be soon.” We hug, and she leaves. As she does, I see a dark shape following her out. The next day, I had a promising meeting with Dr. Brown, who said I was showing significant improvement and that he was considering letting me go home in a few days. As I leave, I notice a pair of brown shoes sitting near his office door—similar to the ones I saw the other night. I exit without saying a word. I’m ecstatic about my chance to leave soon, but I still haven’t heard anything about Jason. I can’t shake the nagging feeling that my Uncle has a plan. I am excited about sharing the news with my new friends.
As I turn the corner towards the common room, I see Jamie step out of her room. We lock eyes, and she blows me a kiss, smiling. I shake my head in disbelief as I continue toward the common area. The gang is gathered around, engrossed in a 1950s Halloween movie. I settle in to watch, too. I want to talk to Cat, but she’s so wrapped up in the movie that I hesitate to interrupt. When the movie goes to a commercial, I seize my chance. “Dr. Brown says I can get out of here soon.”
Cat’s face lights up, and she hugs me. “That’s great to hear!”
“I have my meeting tomorrow morning with him; I hope he gives me clearance to leave, too,” she replies.
“Do you feel good enough?” I ask, placing a hand on her shoulder.
She nods, but her gaze flickers to the corner, which makes me uneasy. “As best as I can,” she says, “but I’ll have to live with her.”
That breaks my heart; this poor girl seems haunted by something beyond her control, just like me. “Hey, you’re strong. I’m sure I can help get her in check and make her a friendly spider lady,” I respond, smiling. She returns the smile and nods, though I can tell that a part of her is skeptical.
We briefly shared something before returning to the movie, which we watched until lunch. Then, Jamie makes a scene over the lunch selections, causing a table flip. She’s restrained and taken to her room.
“She did that on purpose,” Cat states as we settle back in after the disruption.
“You think?” I ask, incredulous.
“It’s the easiest way to get more time here. I really don’t think she wants to leave,” Cat replies.
We join the guys at the table. Adam blesses the food, and Ralph brags about meeting the Pope years ago, who did the same. The day drags on, filled with movies and relaxation.
Later, around 10 PM, as I lie in bed, my thoughts drift to Jason. Where is he? Is he okay? I hope my parents have answers when I see them tomorrow. It’s around midnight when I feel the urgent need to use the bathroom. I hesitate, recalling my last encounter.
I wait as long as possible, then finally give in. The hallway feels odd—cold and damp, the air thick as I walk to the women’s room. I enter, and to my shock, there’s Jamie, standing there nude. Her body is stunning, and I feel a strange mix of attraction and fear. She smiles at me, her one hand behind her back. “Hi, Lydia,” she greets with a smirk.
“Hi,” I respond, still taken aback. “I need to use the bathroom.”
“I’ve been waiting for you,” she replies.
“Oh, I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long,” I say sarcastically.
“About an hour; I was expecting you.”
I arch an eyebrow at her. “Well, I’m going to pee,” I announce, moving toward the stall. She nods, but as I approach, I catch her moving suddenly out of the corner of my eye. A butcher knife rises above her head.
I jerk back, slamming the stall door shut just in time. Jamie’s face collides with the door with a sickening thud, and she screams. I bolt for the exit, but she grabs my hair, yanking me back. I stumble, crashing to the tile floor, my head hitting hard. Dazed, I watch as she stands over me, blood streaming from her nose, which I must have broken.
“Looks like you wanted to get close,” she taunts, straddling me and pinning my arms down with her legs. “You’re Uncle’s favorite, aren’t you?”
I shoot back, “Dr. Brown doesn’t talk to me. What are you on about, you crazy idiot?”
She laughs, a manic sound. “No, that’s not the HE I’m referring to. You’re his favorite peanut for the good of all. He loves fucking me.”
Panic floods me. “How could it be, Uncle?”
She grins wickedly, blood dripping from her lips. “Uncle has more peanuts than you realize. The Hollywood lady from the ’70s, the girl in the special place that burned—visited just before you arrived.”
My mind races, struggling to grasp her words. “I’ve given myself to my Uncle for years, but I’m not special like you. My virginity couldn’t bring him back to flesh. But we’ve enjoyed our connection. I knew you’d come here, that he was bringing you, the one who can make it all happen.”
My leg loosens slightly under her weight. I push back, trying to free myself, but she leans closer, her hand hovering over the knife that lies just a few inches away.
“I’ll not lose him again,” she hisses, shifting her grip as she reaches for the knife. I seize my moment—knee her in the small of her back. She loses her balance, and I push her off me.
I scramble to my feet, my heart racing. Jamie lunges, trying to sweep my legs, but I miss. I dodge to the side, but she’s quicker. Grabbing the knife, she swings it at me, slicing into my thigh. Pain shoots through me as I stumble and drop to the floor, clutching my leg.
I kick out and hit her in the nose in a desperate move. She screams, dropping the knife. I kick again, forcing myself to move towards it. I grab the hilt just before she can reach.
In a rush of adrenaline, I thrust the knife upwards, aiming without thought. It plunges into her neck. Shock washes over us both as she gasps, blood spraying from her mouth and the wound. Her eyes go wide, and she collapses, choking on her blood.
I stand there, frozen, as her body twitches like a fish out of water before going still. Her vacant stare pierces through me. Blood pools around her, painting the floor in crimson.
Then I see him—Uncle, standing over her body, a pleased smile on his face. I scream.
Chapter 29
As the layers peel back, Uncle reveals he is a greater threat than I had imagined. His search to bring his people back to their rightful place spans centuries, entangling generations in a web of horror and despair. Facing the reality of his mission leaves me with an icy dread, knowing that I am just one in a long line of victims. The realization floods me with guilt and self-doubt, and I wonder whether my past actions inadvertently opened the door to their return. I am overwhelmed by the fear that my mistakes have set in motion a catastrophic chain of events.
Chapter 29
As the layers peel back, Uncle reveals he is a greater threat than I had imagined. His search to bring his people back to their rightful place spans centuries, entangling generations in a web of horror and despair. Facing the reality of his mission leaves me with an icy dread, knowing that I am just one in a long line of victims. The realization floods me with guilt and self-doubt, and I wonder whether my past actions inadvertently opened the door to their return. I am overwhelmed by the fear that my mistakes have set in motion a catastrophic chain of events.
In my fevered dreams, vivid images of Uncle’s manipulation of Jamie surface. I see how he exploited her innocence, how she was a mere pawn in his dark schemes, leading to her eventual breakdown. A wave of sadness and helplessness envelops me as I grasp the magnitude of his influence. She never recovers, her life becoming a battle against unseen demons, a struggle that mirrors my own turmoil.
Reflecting on my own encounters with Uncle, I feel the sting of regret for not recognizing the signs sooner. The weight of responsibility presses down on me; my heart aches with the resolve to stop him. Despite the lingering fear, a sense of determination fuels me. It is a fierce desire not only to protect myself but to honor those who have suffered and to prevent future generations from facing the same fate.
The uncertainty of my ability to defeat him gnaws at my resolve. I question whether I am truly capable of standing against such malevolence. Yet, beneath the layers of fear, a flicker of hope remains, a resilient ember of courage that refuses to be extinguished. It is the hope that somehow, against all odds, we may find a way to finally banish him and end the cycle of terror once and for all.
Dr. Brown decided to hold me a little longer so I could come to grips with the situation. I lay it over in my mind for days, wondering if I could have done it differently. No, my life is in danger, and I couldn’t have. Uncle Tony is determined to wear me down and is doing well. Locked up, no contact. I don’t know if Jason is okay; there’s been no word from him. I have gone from believing I am the only one dealing with this entity to understanding that others have been and are also paying for it. On day three, I can leave the room; I never have another day to myself. When I leave the room, it is three days until Halloween.
I enter the TV room. The three sit on three couches. A movie plays, another old-school horror film. I take a moment to decide what to do: sit with them or return to my room. I decide against isolation. My heart sinks knowing that Johnny and Jamie’s chairs are now empty. I stroll up to the TV and join the group on the couch. I am unsure how they will react to me after Jamie. She stands for a moment. Cat looks over first, and she smiles. They have an understanding. The cat gets up and approaches me. We hug. Adam Christ and Ralph look over. They smile as well.
After the hug, we sit on the couch and watch the movie. Looking at the group, it feels good to be back with friends. I pray that each one stays safe from Uncle and doesn’t fall victim to his destructive wrath. At dinner, Cat is the first to break the silence. “So, was it scary?” she asks, playing with her peas. I look up from my food; all eyes are on me. “Yes, very scary and unexpected,” I respond. Adam looks at me, his blue eyes full of compassion, then. “My child, my father will forgive you; he knows your heart and that it was in self-defense.” He makes the cross sign as he absolves me of my sins. I smile. Ralph smiles back. No response, no lie. I am surprised and happy at the same time.
“We all know it was in self-defense; it’s a shame it had to come to this point,” Cat says, putting a forkful of peas in her mouth. So concludes her statement, chewing, “They all said she smuggled the knife in and that they are moving her to another place, but they can’t find one for her needs. Yet she can’t leave since she is dangerous to herself and others.” There is more to that, I think to myself. Uncle is pulling the strings. The longer this goes on, the deeper it becomes. After dinner, Cat asks the guys if they can talk in private. They agree and go to watch another Halloween horror movie. “How are you doing?” Cat asks. I pause, letting the moment hang.
**Chapter 27**
After the hug, we sit on the couch and watch the movie. Looking at the group, it feels good to be back with friends. I pray that each one stays safe from Uncle and doesn’t fall victim to his destructive wrath. At dinner, Cat is the first to break the silence. “So, was it scary?” she asks, playing with her peas. I look up from my food; all eyes are on me. “Yes, very scary and unexpected,” I respond. Adam looks at me, his blue eyes full of compassion, then. “My child, my father will forgive you; he knows your heart and that it was in self-defense.” He makes the cross sign as he absolves me of my sins. I smile. Ralph smiles back. No response, no lie. I am surprised and happy at the same time.
“We all know it was in self-defense; it’s a shame it had to come to this point,” Cat says, putting a forkful of peas in her mouth. So concludes her statement, chewing, “They all said she smuggled the knife in and that they are moving her to another place, but they can’t find one for her needs. Yet she can’t leave since she is dangerous to herself and others.” There is more to that, I think to myself. Uncle is pulling the strings. The longer this goes on, the deeper it becomes. After dinner, Cat asks the guys if they can talk in private. They agree and go to watch another Halloween horror movie. “How are you doing?” Cat asks. I pause, letting the moment hang.
**Chapter 27**
Halloween arrives, and the staff decorates the place with their signature decorations. There’s a party tonight, and we are encouraged to create costumes using the supplies provided at the art group. Cat crafts a princess outfit from an old pink bathrobe and a Burger King crown. Adam Christ gathers saddles and white sheets, symbolizing his role as Adam, the son of God. Ralph rocks an old lab coat and head mirror, just as he did in his medical practice. I channel Indiana Jones’s daughter with a fedora, a pleather jacket, and my scrub pants.
We spend the rest of the day watching movies and enjoying candy, a sweet treat. When we enter the dining room, it transforms into a mad science laboratory. We sit down for dinner, savoring each other’s company. Afterward, we retreat to our rooms to prepare for the party. Unfortunately, it feels like the party is to end all parties. In my room, a sudden sense of dread washes over me. I freeze for a second as my body tingles. Uncle is near; I can feel it. Standing frozen by my bed, I sense his presence—this thing, this supposed God that has haunted my dreams since I was a child and nearly took my virginity at six.
The door to my room creaks open. The hair on my neck stands up, and goosebumps form on my arms. I feel a chill. Time freezes; I remain still, holding my costume pants, gripping them tightly until my knuckles turn white. The door is wide open, and I dread turning around. I’m not ready to face him yet—I don’t know how. I hold my breath, hoping he’ll leave.
“You’re not ready yet, ” Cat’s voice says. I breathe. My body relaxes, regressing from the fight-or-flight response. I’ll be ready soon; I just have to get dressed. Give me fifteen minutes, please,” I respond.
“Okay, just hurry; you’re missing it. Adam is blessing everyone, and Ralph is saying how the Playboy Mansion was for a Halloween party a few years ago,” she replies. I crack a smile. “I’ll see you in fifteen minutes,” she adds before leaving the room.
I stand there for a few minutes, collecting myself. It’s been a long time since I got Uncle’s phone call that night. The time is coming for us to clash; so far, he is winning. I get dressed and prepare to leave the room. As I step into the hallway, I hear the music playing. I repeat to myself that I am going to have a good time.
As I approach the dining room, the music grows louder, accompanied by laughter. It sounds festive. I reach the door and make sure my hat is straight. Once satisfied, I take a deep breath and pull the door open. The room swirls, and the air feels heavy. My eyes widen in disbelief. Amid the party, Uncle stands, beckoning me to enter. He is in the middle of the room, smiling, while others and the staff move around him as if he doesn’t exist.
“There you are!” Cat exclaims as she runs toward me. I can’t take my eyes off Uncle. He looks at me, and I look back at him. Suddenly, I feel hands reaching for me and jerk back, unaware that Cat is grabbing my hands. “Hey, what’s that about?” she asks, a hint of hurt in her voice.
“I’m sorry, Hunny,” I say, finally taking my eyes off Uncle to look at her. “Are you okay?” she asks, noticing something is off with my expression. I ponder for a moment whether I should tell her. When I glance back toward Uncle, he is gone. “I’m okay; it’s just amazing how this all looks and how everyone looks,” I reply, trying to reassure her.
“I know, this is so awesome! Come on, let’s go!” She takes my hand, and this time I don’t pull back. She leads me into the party. Staff and patients mingle as an iPhone shuffles a playlist of Halloween music and spooky sounds. Adam and Ralph bless me as they share their stories about the Playboy Mansion.
As time passes, I wonder if Uncle is really there or if my mind is playing tricks on me. The more relaxed I feel, the more we bob for apples and pin the tail on the werewolf. We savor delicious pumpkin patch brownies and drink red punch from paper cups with pumpkins.
“Believe it or not, I’ve never been to a Halloween party,” I tell Cat as we sit and sip our punch. “I love Halloween; I do what I can each year to celebrate it.”
“Things changed after an uncle. My life shifted when my parents divorced, and I had to juggle between homes. I kept to myself often; I was a loner and still can be.”
“Lydia, you cannot let that asshole control you. I finally feel free today; she has haunted me since I was ten—I let her control me for too long.” Cat glances over into the corner where Ralph and Adam sit. I know what she is looking at.
“The bitch is in the corner watching me. The medicine keeps her quiet; I’m planning on doing it differently, going to take my medicine and keep her mouth shut.”
I smile. “I’m happy to hear that, babe. You must have a life. You cannot let it control you.”
“You either. You’re stronger than Uncle; don’t let him control you. We are more powerful than they,” Cat insists.
Chapter 30
Halloween comes, and the staff decorates the place with their signature decorations. There’s a party planned for tonight; we are encouraged to create costumes using the supplies provided at the art group. Cat makes a princess outfit from an old pink bathrobe and a Burger King crown. Adam Christ receives some saddles and white sheets, symbolizing his role as Adam, the son of God. Ralph rocks an old lab coat and a head mirror, as he says he did in his medical practice. I sport a fedora, a pleather jacket, and my scrub pants, planning to be Indiana Jones’s daughter. We spend the rest of the day watching movies and enjoying candy, a sweet treat.
When we enter the dining room, it transforms into a mad science laboratory. We sit for dinner, enjoying each other’s company. After dinner, we head to our rooms to prepare for the party. Unfortunately, this party is set to end all parties. In my room, I suddenly feel a wave of dread. I freeze for a moment as my body tingles. Uncle is near; I can feel it. As I stand frozen near my bed, I sense his presence—the thing, the supposed God that haunts my dreams since childhood, nearly taking my virginity at six. The door to my room creaks open. The hair on my neck stands on end, and goosebumps form on my arms. I feel a chill. Time seems to freeze; I stand still, holding my costume pants. I grip them tightly, my knuckles turning white.
The door remains open. I don’t want to turn around; I’m not ready to face Uncle yet. I don’t know how to confront him. I hold my breath, hoping that he’ll leave. “You’re not ready yet.” It’s Cat’s voice. I breathe out. My body relaxes slightly. As the fight-or-flight response eases, I respond, “I’ll be ready soon; I just have to get dressed; give me fifteen minutes, please.” “Okay, just hurry; you’re missing out. Adam is blessing everyone, and Ralph is telling stories about how the Playboy mansion was for the Halloween party a few years ago,” she replies. I crack a smile. “I’ll see you in fifteen minutes,” she adds before leaving the room.
I stand there for a few minutes to collect myself. It’s been a long time since the night Uncle called. The time is coming for us to clash; so far, he is winning. I get dressed and prepare to leave the room. I hear the music playing as I hit the hallway. I keep telling myself I am going to have a good time. As I approach the dining room, the music grows louder, and so does the laughter. It sounds good.
I reached the door and made sure my hat was on straight. Once everything is in order, I draw a deep breath and open the door. The room swirls, and the air feels heavy. My eyes can’t believe what I see. Amid the party, Uncle stands, beckoning me to enter. He is in the middle of the room, smiling. The staff and patients move around him as if he were not there. “There you are!” Cat exclaims as she runs toward me. I don’t take my eyes off Uncle; he looks at me, and I look back at him. I feel hands reach out to me and jerk back, not realizing Cat is grabbing my hands. “Hey, what’s that about?” she asks, a hint of hurt in her voice.
“I’m sorry, Hunny,” I say, finally taking my eyes off Uncle and looking at her. “Are you okay?” she asks, noticing something’s off with my face. I wonder if I told her for a second; I let my eyes wander back to Uncle. He’s gone. “I’m okay; it’s just amazing how all this looks and how everyone looks,” I reply, looking back into Cat’s eyes. “I know! This is so awesome. Come, let’s go!” She reaches out and takes my hand. I don’t pull back this time. She pulls me into the party. Staff and patients mingle as an iPhone shuffles a playlist of Halloween music and spooky sounds. Adam and Ralph bless me and share their story about the Playboy Mansion.
As time passes, I wonder if my Uncle is there or if my mind is playing tricks on me. I start to relax. We bob for apples and pin the tail on the werewolf. We enjoy delicious pumpkin patch brownies and sip red punch from paper cups with pumpkins. “Believe it or not, I have never been to a Halloween party,” I tell Cat as we sit and sip our punch. “I love Halloween; I do what I can to celebrate it yearly.”
“Things changed after Uncle; my life shifted—parents divorced, I was juggled between homes, and I kept to myself a lot. I was a loner and can still be,” I share.
“Lydia, you cannot let that asshole control you,” Cat says, her expression growing serious. “I feel free today for her; she has haunted me since I was ten; I let her control me too long.” Her eyes glance over into the corner where Ralph and Adam sit. I know what she is looking at. “The bitch is in the corner watching me; the medicine keeps her quiet; I’m planning on doing it differently — I’m going to take the medicine and keep her mouth shut.” I smile. “I’m happy to hear that, babe; you must have a life. You cannot let it control you.”
“Neither can you; you’re stronger than him; you don’t have to let him control you. We are more powerful than they are,” Cat responds, confident in her voice.
Chapter 31
I looked toward Adam and Ralph; they were no longer there. Slowly, the room began to transform. The air thickened, heavy with an unsettling anticipation, while the walls dissolved, oozing into the floor and re-forming into ominous stone. The transformation whispered like a long-lost echo deep within the chamber, drawing us unwillingly into a special place. Cat and I stood there, clutching each other as the cool breeze brushed past, teasing the hair at the nape of our necks, sending chills down my spine.
Adam’s voice trembled, piercing the heavy silence as our embrace broke. “Father, where have you taken me?” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. My eyes darted up, finding Adam standing beside Ralph. In their eyes danced a mixture of fear and awe, mirroring my own anxiety. I backed away from Cat, searching her eyes for calm amidst the chaos. Despite her composed facade, fear danced at the edges of her gaze. “It is okay,” I attempted to reassure her, pressing a gentle kiss on her forehead. I turned toward the guys, seeking their reaction.
Adam was on his knees, fingers trembling as they clasped together in a fervent prayer to his deity. Ralph, on the other hand, gazed at the ominous statues looming overhead, memories of past explorations flickering in his eyes. “I explored this cave years ago, so I’m okay,” Ralph assured us with an uneasy chuckle. His words offered scant comfort as the room’s ominous tone deepened.
Suddenly, a voice, raw and familiar, shattered the tense silence. “Lydia,” Jason’s voice croaked. My heart leapt as I turned around, my breath catching in my throat. Jason was slumped in a corner, chained to the wall, shirtless, his ripped jeans stained and tattered. He wore no shoes, and his face was a battered portrait of violence: two black eyes and a fat lip. “Oh my God,” I stammered, the words mere shadows of a greater terror. “Jason,” I whispered, moving my hands to cover my mouth as my pulse quickened.
Leaving Cat’s side, I made my way toward Jason. Heat waves scorched my skin, as if the very air itself sought to deter me. I paused, blinded momentarily by the searing intensity, then turned at the sound of a visceral scream. Ralph was lifted abruptly into the air, limbs flailing, raw fear etched into the depths of his wide eyes. Gravity betrayed him, pulling him toward the consuming embrace of the flames. Words died on my lips as horror rooted me in place. I watched, helpless, as Ralph plunged headfirst into the roaring pit of fire. His agonized screams twisted and contorted within the echoing chamber, mingling with the hiss of flames.
Beside me, Cat mirrored my horror with a scream of her own. Adam, too, was tormented beyond belief, his body smacking with a dreadful finality against the stone wall, leaving a grisly tapestry of crimson. “There is only one god,” a terrible voice boomed, drowning the last of Adam’s fervent prayers. Blood seeped from where his head impacted the unforgiving stone, pooling around his crumpled form. Bones shattered audibly under a merciless onslaught, unbearable screams dragging out his suffering until the light of life extinguished, leaving behind an unholy wreckage.
Silent now, save for the cruel crackle of fire around us, my lips parted to scream as Cat’s hair lifted, her body suspended in mid-air by an unseen force. “No, no, take me,” I shouted, my voice a desperate plea against the malevolent forces at play. I surged forward to reach her, only to be thrust back by an ominous presence, striking the ancient stone with bone-jarring force. Pain flared in every nerve as a vice-like grip of shock seized my body. Cat’s voice called, a wretched cry for help, as the shadows converged to claim us all.
I sit up enough to see it happen. The form of a woman with spider arms takes shape. Her eight legs are ready to attack. She lunges at the unseen entity with all eight legs. Cat is freed from the entity’s grip during the attack. She hits the ground hard and, unfazed, crawls to me quickly. “Are you okay?” she asks, caressing my legs. “Pain lets me know I’m alive,” I reply with a smile. We are embarrassed and glance over at the fight scene. The entity shows itself; it is Uncle in his lizard form. “A Greek god,” he states with venom. The spider lady hisses. “They are both mine,” Uncle responds to the hiss. He gets into attack mode, and so does the spider lady, and the two gods lunge at each other.
I take this as my cue. Carefully, Cat’s hand reaches over to Jason. His hands and legs are in chains attached to the far wall of the chamber. He looks as if he has been beaten and tortured by Uncle. I hear a screech as Uncle sends the spider lady flying to the floor. He reaches out his webbed hands, and Jason screams in pain as slash marks appear on his bare chest. Uncle is pleased by this action as he continues to showcase his powers. With a swift motion, he breaks my grip on Cat’s hand and flings her across the chamber to the other side. Her body slams against the stones of the wall, falling limp to the ground. My eyes fill with tears, and I scream as a smirk spreads across Uncle’s lizard face. The spider lady hisses, followed by a terrible scream of sorrow. She rises, her spider legs holding her high like someone walking on stilts. With fluid strides, she charges at Uncle, using her two front legs to grab him by his neck. He struggles as she pulls him up to her level, forcing him to look into her yellow slit-like eyes. He tries mightily to free his hands. As he gets closer, her mouth unhinges, revealing razor-sharp teeth. I hold my breath as Uncle’s head draws closer to her mouth. After all she has done, it is with great pleasure that I anticipate watching him die.
I take this as my cue. Carefully, Cat’s hand reaches over to Jason. His hands and legs are in chains attached to the far wall of the chamber. He looks as if he has been beaten and tortured by Uncle. I hear a screech as Uncle sends the spider lady flying to the floor. He reaches out his webbed hands, and Jason screams in pain as slash marks appear on his bare chest. Uncle is pleased by this action as he continues to showcase his powers. With a swift motion, he breaks my grip on Cat’s hand and flings her across the chamber to the other side. Her body slams against the stones of the wall, falling limp to the ground. My eyes fill with tears, and I scream as a smirk spreads across Uncle’s lizard face. The spider lady hisses, followed by a terrible scream of sorrow. She rises, her spider legs holding her high like someone walking on stilts. With fluid strides, she charges at Uncle, using her two front legs to grab him by his neck. He struggles as she pulls him up to her level, forcing him to look into her yellow slit-like eyes. He tries mightily to free his hands. As he gets closer, her mouth unhinges, revealing razor-sharp teeth. I hold my breath as Uncle’s head draws closer to her mouth. After all she has done, it is with great pleasure that I anticipate watching him die.
Then, a clap of thunder goes off, and the spider lady stops. Another thunderclap strikes, and she freezes, all movement ceasing. My eyes glaze over the spot where the thunderclap comes from. “Cat,” I mutter. There she stands, firing a gun at the spider lady. The spider lady loosens her grip on Uncle, and he slips out of her hand. With a wave of his hand, he sends fire erupting from her torso. The spider lady lets out horrible screams as her body bursts into flames. It starts in her head and spreads quickly to the rest of her body. Her cries fill the chamber as she falls backward onto the stone floor. Her body and eight legs begin to wilt and curl up. The place starts to smell like BBQ. Uncle approaches the burning husk and waves his hands, and the flames cease. Gazing at the burned corpse, Uncle folds his hands and lifts them high above his head. With the force of a hammer, he comes down hard on the burned remains. His hands plunge into the charred mass and pull out a spider; it is the size of a cat. The spider wriggles in his hands. Uncle looks toward the nearest wall, where a black spiral is projected—a portal. He places the spider tightly in one of his webbed hands and hurls it into the portal. It closes with a pop.
Uncle veers around toward me. “You cannot kill a Greek god, but you can trap one in a limited space,” he states; a sense of pride seeps from his words. He turns his attention to me. “Hello, Peanut.” Frozen with fear, I am unable to react. Two hands come from behind me and rest on my shoulders. It’s Cat, but I know she is no longer the Cat I knew. “I was always a part of your shadow,” she whispers in my ear, a dark smile on her face. “Why?” I ask. “After Jamie died, he came to me in my dreams and promised to rid me of my burden and that I would not be a slave when the others returned.” I close my eyes and shake my head. “Cat, let us get ready, my precious,” Uncle commands. “Yes, Uncle,” Cat replies, echoing the dark vows she once resisted, now fully entwined with her new fate. I feel the butt of the gun connect with my skull.
Chapter 33
“But Uncle, I don’t want to do it, “I yell at the top of my lungs. He holds my small frame in his webbed hands. He is no longer the Uncle I met in my room; he is now a full-blown lizard creature in clothes. He holds me tightly against his body. I continue to wiggle to get free; the tears are streaming down my face. “I want mommy and daddy, “I screamed.” Uncle ignores my cry and leads me to the chamber with a stone table. I resist with all the strength that a six-year-old has, but it is no use; I’m placed on the table and restrained, hands and legs. He looks at me with a look of malice and lust. He touches my hair. My body tenses up. At six, I know that feeling without consent is not allowed. I scream. “You can cry all you want, peanut, but I will do what I must to regain my people and return to power. He pulls up my dress; I’m wearing my Disney princess underwear. He places his hand down there. It feels wrong; tears roll down my cheeks. He removes the clothing he was wearing. Now I see his entire body. When he lay with me on those nights, he was always clothed. He climbed on top of the stone table. I would understand later that what I was seeing protruding from his lower half was his penis. He inched closer. I could not move. My vision started to blur. I felt as if I was going to pass out. His hand started to pull down my underwear. My six-year-old mind seized; my brain was protecting me. The urge overcame me, and I didn’t love him as much as I loved my Uncle. I hate him. I no longer wanted him here. I did not need or want him. “LEAVE ME ALONE, I DO NOT WANT YOU HERE”! I screamed. He looked up in shock. “NO!” he screamed at me. Bright lights. Nothing. I woke up. I was still in the main chamber. Cat stood in the corner, staring at the wall as if in a time-out.
My hands and legs are tied together. I look up. There is no sign of the Uncle. I recall a point from the podcast replay of Dr. Walton’s interview about the others. “Once gods lose their power and influence, they are sent to a city of gold.” When I rejected my Uncle all those years ago, he entered a limited space. How do I keep him there?! One step at a time. I looked around. There was Jason, still chained to the wall. “Jason,” I said in a reasonable volume. He stirred and looked up, “Lydia,” he said, his voice hoarse.
“Yes, I’m here”. Jason tried to open his eyes, but the swelling around them made it impossible. “Why, he is too powerful.” “I didn’t come here willingly; he brought me here with others.” “He wants you here; he needs you to open the gates of something and let his people.” The gates of Nilmar. That’s what he called it all those years. “I’m sorry I got you into this, Jason,” I said, tears developing in my eyes. “It is okay, babe; I knew when we met years ago we would have an adventure together. ” He smiled. If I get my way, we will have more, I thought. “Look, we will get out of here, I promise,” I stated. Jason smiled.
“If anyone can, it would be you. “Jason always believed I was stronger than I thought. “You got rid of him once and can do it again. “I remember the light, but that’s all.” “That’s a start; remember, he is showing his power to make you afraid; he needs your fear this time. “How do you know that? I asked. “I overheard him talking to his people from the void, and he thought I was unconscious; I was not. “Jason took a breath. “He says he cannot lie with you due to a barrier from your last encounter.” He paused. I heard the sound of footsteps. “They are against it, the elders, “he lowered his voice. “They think he is underestimating you; Uncle has done all this to show how powerful the others are so that you fear him,” he spoke in a near whisper as the footsteps grew closer. Uncle was approaching, leading a man with a bag over his head. “Come on, Waton, move,” he said with a hiss. The man moved slowly, his clothes torn and tattered, just as Jason’s were. “Hi Peanuts, “we have a visitor, Uncle exclaimed with a booming voice.”
Chapter 34
“But Uncle, I don’t want to do it, “I yell at the top of my lungs. He holds my small frame in his webbed hands. He is no longer the Uncle I met in my room; he is now a full-blown lizard creature in clothes. He holds me tightly against his body. I continue to wiggle to get free; the tears are streaming down my face. “I want mommy and daddy, “I screamed.” Uncle ignores my cry and leads me to the chamber with a stone table. I resist with all the strength that a six-year-old has, but it is no use; I’m placed on the table and restrained, hands and legs. He looks at me with a look of malice and lust. He touches my hair. My body tenses up. At six, I know that feeling without consent is not allowed. I scream. “You can cry all you want, peanut, but I will do what I must to regain my people and return to power. He pulls up my dress; I’m wearing my Disney princess underwear. He places his hand down there. It feels wrong; tears roll down my cheeks. He removes the clothing he was wearing. Now I see his entire body. When he lay with me on those nights, he was always clothed. He climbed on top of the stone table. I would understand later that what I was seeing protruding from his lower half was his penis. He inched closer. I could not move. My vision started to blur. I felt as if I was going to pass out. His hand started to pull down my underwear. My six-year-old mind seized; my brain was protecting me. The urge overcame me, and I didn’t love him as much as I loved my Uncle. I hate him. I no longer wanted him here. I did not need or want him. “LEAVE ME ALONE, I DO NOT WANT YOU HERE”! I screamed. He looked up in shock. “NO!” he screamed at me. Bright lights. Nothing. I woke up. I was still in the main chamber. Cat stood in the corner, staring at the wall as if in a time-out.
My hands and legs are tied together. I look up. There is no sign of the Uncle. I recall a point from the podcast replay of Dr. Walton’s interview about the others. “Once gods lose their power and influence, they are sent to a city of gold.” When I rejected my Uncle all those years ago, he entered a limited space. How do I keep him there?! One step at a time. I looked around. There was Jason, still chained to the wall. “Jason,” I said in a reasonable volume. He stirred and looked up, “Lydia,” he said, his voice hoarse.
“Yes, I’m here”. Jason tried to open his eyes, but the swelling around them made it impossible. “Why, he is too powerful.” “I didn’t come here willingly; he brought me here with others.” “He wants you here; he needs you to open the gates of something and let his people.” The gates of Nilmar. That’s what he called it all those years. “I’m sorry I got you into this, Jason,” I said, tears developing in my eyes. “It is okay, babe; I knew when we met years ago we would have an adventure together. ” He smiled. If I get my way, we will have more, I thought. “Look, we will get out of here, I promise,” I stated. Jason smiled.
“If anyone can, it would be you. “Jason always believed I was stronger than I thought. “You got rid of him once and can do it again. “I remember the light, but that’s all.” “That’s a start; remember, he is showing his power to make you afraid; he needs your fear this time. “How do you know that? I asked. “I overheard him talking to his people from the void, and he thought I was unconscious; I was not. “Jason took a breath. “He says he cannot lie with you due to a barrier from your last encounter.” He paused. I heard the sound of footsteps. “They are against it, the elders, “he lowered his voice. “They think he is underestimating you; Uncle has done all this to show how powerful the others are so that you fear him,” he spoke in a near whisper as the footsteps grew closer. Uncle was approaching, leading a man with a bag over his head. “Come on, Waton, move,” he said with a hiss. The man moved slowly, his clothes torn and tattered, just as Jason’s were. “Hi Peanuts, “we have a visitor, Uncle exclaimed with a booming voice.”
Chapter 34
Cat turns around on cue, and I notice her eyes are black for the first time. “Hi, Uncle,” she says. Uncle brings the man to a stop near the edge of one of the fire pits. “Cat, be a dear and bring Lyida closer so she can meet our guest.” Cat comes to me quickly, unhooking my legs from my hands in one motion. She lifts me by my right arm, helps me to my feet, and then leads me to our Uncle.
Jason has returned to silence, still as I stand before my Uncle. Uncle looks menacing; he is in my head and has all the power in his hands.
“I want you to meet someone,” Uncle says, a smile spreading across his lizard-like face. “Well, you meet over the phone, but I want you to meet in person,” he continues. He pulls the sack off the man’s head. The man, Uncle’s prisoner, is a beaten, bloody mess; claw marks are visible on his face, as well as bite marks. His lips are swollen. He looks at me with sad eyes. “Wanton, do you have anything to say, Peanut?” he asks, pulling him close to his face. “Dr. Wanton?” I ask. He nods.
“Yes, I thought it would be nice to have us all together since we all have vested interests here in this wonderful place,” Uncle says, his voice booming with excitement. Wanton laughs. “You’re nothing but a thug, a low-level god, trying hard to make us fear you.” Uncle smiles. He pushes Wanton closer to the flames. The man’s face shows little fear as it inches closer to the fire. “No,” I scream. Uncle stops, looking at me. “Why do you do all this?” I ask. “It’s all for you, Peanut—who got away.” He pulls Wanton back closer. “You remember that day when you turned me down?” I nod. “Your life has been impacted by that moment, just as you did the same to my plans. Once the most powerful gods on Earth, we became the filth that spawned from us, turned on us, and put other gods and themselves over us.” He looks at me, “You’re the key, after all—the blood sacrifices and other little bitches; it’s you!” I nod.
“But no, I don’t want to leave Mom and Dad,” he says mockingly. “I’m Mom and Dad; I’m the beginning and the end. I’m the great Enyo!” With one push, Wanton flies into the raging flames; his screams of pain fill the chamber as his flesh begins burning. Tears form in my eyes. “Don’t shed tears for him, my love,” Uncle says. “He was useless; he was filth; the old professor was weak.” “He was a human,” I shout. The chamber shakes. Uncle looks at me with shock. “You will soon bring glory to the others.” He raises his hand after regrouping his thoughts. I feel my mouth closing and sealing shut.
Chapter 35
Chapter 35
I attempt to scream, but nothing comes out. My mouth no longer exists. “Cannot have any of that,” Uncle says. Cat stands there; she is under his spell. He orders Cat to take me back to my chains. Jason is still chained, his eyes closed, and I am back up. Cat returns to her spot. The sizzling of Wanton’s body is unsettling. I am stuck with no mouth. Jason looks at me the best he can through swollen eyes. His eyes say it all. Lydia, you have to fight. There is no fight in me. I close my eyes. I listen to the flames. I smell the burning flesh. The world closes in. People and friends die, and Uncle Enyo is on his way to victory. I lie there, drifting into a semi-consciousness.
The space is dark, cold, and roomy. I am not chained up. I pull myself up, touching the floor; it is hard and cold beneath my feet. My mouth has returned; I can feel it in the proper place on my face. “Hello,” I call. My voice echoes back. “Jason,” I call again. My voice bounces back again. My eyes catch a light. It is dancing in the distance. “Hello,” I say as I reach towards the light. It moves closer to me. “Jason,” I call again. The glow of the light grows more prominent as it moves closer to me. I feel warm and loved as it approaches. Soon, the light envelops me; it is blinding. My eyes readjust, and I find myself in a room with a dozen other women.
“Hello,” Samara Anderson says with a warm smile. The rest of the women gather behind her. All the victims of my Uncle that I know of. Bree Slushie steps forward, “We need to show something.” The girl I saw burned to death steps forward, “He has been haunting us for eons. We all have encountered the evil of Eyno, aka Uncle, and we have all paid with our lives.” Another girl steps forward. She is the wife of a famous screenwriter. “You can defeat him; you have done it before. You can’t kill him, but you can lock him up and save the rest.” Jamie steps forward, and I can see the sadness on her face. She takes a deep breath. “He underestimates your strength. He believed you were weak in 1992 due to your parents’ fighting, which led to the temple of the others opening. He assumes you are vulnerable, but you used strong self-will and love to trap him with the other gods for some time. Enyo returns to search for another. None of us comes close to what you did, yet in my weak state, he used me in many ways, even to attempt to kill you. I was there that night, and now he is using Cat. You can trap him again.”
“I’m sorry,” she says, blowing a kiss. She steps back. Another girl steps forward. “He has been haunting young girls’ lives for many eons; for many, they are lucky and don’t remember. We are the most recent victims, and he has attacked and killed us to show you his strength. Take his power as our ancestors did; he will be weak. We could not defeat him. Don’t allow fear and doubt to cripple you. He wants that. Why is he doing this at all?”
“Lydia,” I hear my name. It sounds like Jason. “Remember what we said,” they all say in creepy unison. “Send him back, belittle him, show him he is no god,” Jamie screams. “LYDIA,” Jason calls. I open my eyes.
I open my eyes; I am back in the chamber. My chains return, and my mouth no longer exists. “Oh, my God, Jason,” he says. “I thought you died.” I shake my head no. “Your mouth, ugh, he’s a real asshole.” I nod yes. He hangs his head, “Not sure if there is much we can do.” I bang my chains to get his attention. Jason looks at me. We meet eyes, and he understands I have a plan. I may not be able to articulate it, but I know Jason well enough to collaborate and complete the task. And there is a secret that Uncle and Jason are unaware of.
Chapter 36
When I was about ten, I put myself into a shell after the divorce. With her approval, my dad signs me up for some creative art therapy to help me cope with my feelings. Ventriloquism is the therapy offered, an innovative way for us to confront our traumas at a young age. I find the treatment closed off, but learning to make a dummy talk is fun, and I talk a little about my Uncle and some of my experiences with him. It becomes a side passion of mine. I still practice occasionally, hoping my skills remain there after many years of silence. Though my lips no longer exist, my tongue does, and that is the tool needed to pull off the act. Talking with my tongue, not using my lips, is the whole point. It creates the illusion that the dummy is speaking, not me. I pray I can use this technique to communicate and send this sorry son of a bitch back to his hole in the Earth.
After a few tries, I get my tongue going and use my throat muscles to project my voice. “Jason,” I say. He looks at me. “How?” “I took ventriloquism as art therapy when I was young; it’s a way to express myself better and deal with my emotions after my Uncle.” Jason nods. “I saw Uncle’s other victims, and they told me how to defeat him.” I continue. He nods and asks, “Okay, how?” “I will give him a false sense of security that he has defeated me, and when the time is right, I’ll strike and pull the rug from underneath him,” I respond. Jason nods. “He and his people are very insecure about their rule.”
I overhear them saying, “They expect to rule forever after they pull themselves from the Earth’s core. They mated with our early ancestors, and as we evolved as a species, we became more aware that we needed them less. We seek other gods, i.e., the Greek gods we have just encountered, and other forms of education to explain the unexplained, no longer turning to them. Creating new gods brought into existence by our own will and imagination drives the others back to the center of the Earth, and their influence is gone. They can no longer dominate us,” he concludes. “So why now? Why have they not tried this incursion years ago?” I ask. “Once driven back underground, it takes time for a leader to rise.” “That leader would be Enyo, aka Uncle. Morg, the ancient god figure of the others, tells him in a dream that bloodletting and raping an innocent will bring them back to power, showing them as powerful to humans again; they would be gods once more.”
“This has been happening for a long time, then you came along, and you are the key to fulfilling his dream and promise,” he states. Lucky me, I think to myself. “Did they say why at some point?” I ask. “Because of this place,” Jason states, gesturing at the chamber. I look around. “This place is significant; it was lost to them when they retreated to Earth’s core. In 1992, when he was visiting with you and acting as the demon sucker, the chamber opened to him during that period.” “It was once a temple dedicated to the others.” “According to this, Morg, the chamber must be open for all this to occur,” he concludes. Who is Morg? I think to myself.
Jason must have read my mind. “I have been here a minute now; Morg brought the others here and left them in the Earth’s core to evolve into what we see today.” I process all this. “They don’t know who Morg is?” I ask. “No, they know him by name and that he is the ancient being who placed them here.” “As Wanton said, there are chunks of history that are missing; I looked it up online; fringe science believes that advanced societies existed long before documented history shows or wants to believe. Boncuklu Tarla is the oldest known human settlement, dating back approximately 12,000 years. Some scientists believe there are even older ones yet unknown; we don’t know as much as we want to believe or as scientists say we know.” “Maybe we are just an offspring of an alien species put here to evolve and create us for slave labor. Yet we evolve and eliminate our creators through perseverance, and we create other gods to replace them. As we evolve, we continue to replace these beings who seek to reclaim the Earth,” he concludes—something I must use again to send Uncle back to the other place.
Cat stirs. Uncle must be near. Due to her catatonic state in the corner, I almost forgot she was there. Did she overhear our conversation? Jason and I look at each other. “Just do it,” Jason states, using Nike’s tagline to inspire me. I nod at him and wink. The footsteps approach; Uncle enters the chamber, a sneer on his lips. Though his face is not human, I can tell he is full of confidence from the expression on the lizard’s lips. Cat springs to life when he enters. She turns around, eyes black as night, looking at Uncle. She waits for his command. He stands for a moment, taking in the scene before him. He looks at me. I feel his stare burn my skin and my soul. My eyes close, and when they open, I…
Chapter 37
“Great Morg, we are here now to fulfill the prophecy and bring the greatness back to the race of the others.” “Great Morg, let us know your presence is with us.” The room grows colder. A light appears to the right of Uncle’s shoulder. As the light expands, an entrance materializes, revealing a large figure standing within the makeshift doorway. From what I can estimate, it towers over six feet tall. It remains motionless, a silent observer of the unfolding events. Uncle feels its presence and seems pleased that the entity is here.
“Let us begin,” he states in a loud, booming voice. To my astonishment, Jason materializes, his hands chained behind his back and his legs shackled in place. Dread washes over me as Uncle menacingly approaches Jason, his jaw dropping to reveal sharp teeth. Drool increases from his mouth as he closes in on his intended victim.
More blood and fear are needed to transform Morg from a statue into a living entity. My mind races as I think about my next move. Jason, showing no fear, bravely declares, “You are nothing; you have no power over any of us.” Uncle laughs, “I have all the power; you are under my power. You are filth,” he points at me. “She is afraid,” he gestures to Cat. “Wanton is no longer a problem.” Confidence oozes from him.
“It’s to feed your ego,” I exclaim, using my tongue and throat to project my voice, making it seem like it’s coming from deep within the chamber. Uncle looks unnerved, not expecting this part of his meticulously planned scheme. He glances at Cat, then at Jason, and then at me, but I indicate nothing. He turns back to Jason, ready to bite his neck, despite the doubt swirling in his lizard-like eyes. This time, I project the word “no” throughout the chamber. The walls shake as they did earlier, recalling a fragment of childhood. As Uncle prepares to strike me, I scream, “No!” The walls tremble; he tries to silence me, but an unseen force pushes him back. He rolls off the stone table and hits the floor with a thud, slowly rising. Anger fills his lizard face as he approaches me. I scream, and the ties on my hands and feet break apart.
He attempts to land on me to hold me down, but I roll off the table just in time, and he crashes down with a hard thud. I speak firmly, “Go away; I do not love you and don’t want to help you anymore.” I feel the weight of the words; I truly believe in them just as I once believed in the comfort he offered. He struggles to stand; the ropes binding his legs keep his hands behind his back.
“Peanut, no, I have searched so long for you.” He no longer appears angry; sadness has replaced his previous expression. As he speaks, his skin starts to ripple grotesquely, revealing glimpses of slimy muscle and bone beneath, unsettlingly alive, writhing as though trying to escape his frame. But I do not care; I know what he is trying to do is wrong and evil. “Go away, far away; I do not love you anymore.” Tears stream down my face; it hurts, but I know this is the right thing to do. The ropes lift into the air, and Uncle is bound. “You little bitch, you are going to pay,” he snarls, his mouth twisting open to reveal rows of jagged teeth, unexpectedly splitting like a grotesque flower peeling backward. The ropes snag. He glances and frees one wrist, then attempts to release the other. My fear mounts as he gets closer to freeing himself.
“Go away,” I plead. Uncle looks at me and says, “Do not worry, peanut; I’ll be there soon.” Without hesitation, I reply, “No, you will not; I DON’T WANT YOU!” The untied rope springs to life, wrapping itself around Uncle’s neck. He looks surprised, struggling to pull the cord away from him. He gasps for air. “GO!” I scream again. The ropes release their hold, sending Uncle flying into the air. He wails as he soars, hurtling straight into roaring flames. His cries echo as a burst of light emerges, soon sweeping over the entire special place, and suddenly, I find myself back at school in the basement.
Chapter 38
I understand now. Uncle used fear and love to control and manipulate; all those years ago, I broke it. I can still break it. His mouth inched closer to Jason’s, and I waited until his entire attention was on Jason’s neck. Then, I projected a very definite no from deep in my throat. The temple shook, Uncle stumbled back, and he fell. The flames rose higher. The restraints on my hands and legs broke. I rolled off the stone table, landing on my feet. Cat looked at me and instantly sprang into action. Before she could attack, Jason, free of his chains, tackled her like a star linebacker. They hit the ground with force. Uncle rose to his feet and looked at me with hate. He took a running sprint toward me, leaping into the air. He was attempting to pounce on me like a jungle predator. I projected my voice to say, “NO”! His momentum suddenly took him the other way around, and he crashed to the ground on the left side of the stone table. Jason was at his feet, and he had a smile on his face.
I looked at him with love, which immediately turned to fear. As Cat jumps back up, brandishing a curved knife. He grabs Jason, reacts, and flogs her with a punch square to the jaw. She crosses her eyes and falls back to the ground with a bone-crushing thud. Jason bends down and picks up the knife. Uncle is getting his feet. He looks over at Jason, who is about to raise his hand, and he knows he’ll send Jason flying. I project: “No, you do not.” Uncle’s hand stopped in mid-air. He looked at me and growled like an animal in a cage. Jason sprinted towards me with a knife in his hand. “What now, he asks.” I think, and then project with my voice, ‘Give me back my lips.’ Uncle smiled, “You want them back, then take them back.” He gestured towards the knife in Jason’s hand. I looked at the knife, then at Jason. Jason looked at me and shook his head in disapproval. Uncle laughed.
“I don’t think you can do it, peanut.” The tone was taunting and menacing. Uncles began to walk towards us. “Stay right there,” I projected from my throat. Uncle froze in place. He smiled. “You cannot keep us at bay for long. Eventually, the rise will happen.” He looked at the portal and the statue. “It will all happen, no matter how much you fight; we are inevitable.” He laughed. Jason looked at him, the knife in his right hand. My gut told me if I were to rip my mouth open, it would weaken him more. I did not hesitate once I decided; I grabbed the knife from Jason’s hand. He grabbed my wrist to stop me. He squeezed my wrist and looked into my eyes. His eyes begged me not to do it. I had to
do it; my eyes told him I had no choice. I could feel the sweat rolling off my forehead. Jason let my wrist go and watched. I raised my right hand to my mouth; the knife shook as it brought it close to my sealed mouth. Uncle watched, amazed. I know it would hurt less if I just did. I took the knife’s sharp tip and jammed it into my sealed mouth. Blood spurted out almost immediately; it worsened as I ran across to open the seal. Blood poured everywhere; the ground from my mouth, being ripped open, was covered in dark red puddles. I screamed as the seal broke in my mouth. Blood poured onto the floor from my freed lips. They were raw, jagged, and knife-cut. With the knife at my side, I screamed, “FUCK YOU!” Uncle looked at me. I looked at him. We ran towards each other. His mouth is full of razor-sharp teeth, unhinged, ready to bite into my flesh. Knife at the ready in my right hand, I charged him. I narrowly avoided his sharp teeth by sidestepping him. He completely missed me and stumbled toward Jason. Jason kicked him square in the face, sending Uncle stumbling backward on his back. He fell to the stone floor with a hard thud, stunned. Cat stirred, and Jason became aware, sprinting towards her. I stood over Uncle; he began to laugh. “You are much more stubborn than I expected you to be, peanut.” I spat out blood; “the name is Lydia; I let you haunt me too long, you son of a bitch”, I responded. He started to move. I kicked him in the face. He made an audible sound of pain. “You ruined my life, mother fucker”. The knife shook in my hand. “You are all born to suffer; we created you intending for you to suffer; according to the Law of Morg, you’re our slaves. I looked it up in the portal, but it did not move. Jason held Cat back as she attempted to break free to attack me. I looked at her and Jason; Uncle was getting up. I took the knife in my right hand. With as much as I could muster, I plunged into Uncle’s head. As it entered his skull, “I screamed, Go away.” Uncle screamed in pain as green blood poured from his head. He looked at me, his eyes full of malice. “Go away,” I repeated. I spat in his face. With that, Uncle was pulled towards the portal, and he screamed.
Chapter 39
I understand now. Uncle used fear and love to control and manipulate; all those years ago, I broke it. I can still break it. His mouth inched closer to Jason’s, and I waited until his entire attention was on Jason’s neck. Then, I projected a very definite no from deep in my throat. The temple shook, Uncle stumbled back, and he fell. The flames rose higher. The restraints on my hands and legs broke. I rolled off the stone table, landing on my feet. Cat looked at me and instantly sprang into action. Before she could attack, Jason, free of his chains, tackled her like a star linebacker. They hit the ground with force. Uncle rose to his feet and looked at me with hate. He took a running sprint toward me, leaping into the air. He was attempting to pounce on me like a jungle predator. I projected my voice to say, “NO”! His momentum suddenly took him the other way around, and he crashed to the ground on the left side of the stone table. Jason was at his feet, and he had a smile on his face.
I looked at him with love, which immediately turned to fear. As Cat jumps back up, brandishing a curved knife. He grabs Jason, reacts, and flogs her with a punch square to the jaw. She crosses her eyes and falls back to the ground with a bone-crushing thud. Jason bends down and picks up the knife. Uncle is getting his feet. He looks over at Jason, who is about to raise his hand, and he knows he’ll send Jason flying. I project: “No, you do not.” Uncle’s hand stopped in mid-air. He looked at me and growled like an animal in a cage. Jason sprinted towards me with a knife in his hand. “What now, he asks.” I think, and then project with my voice, ‘Give me back my lips.’ Uncle smiled, “You want them back, then take them back.” He gestured towards the knife in Jason’s hand. I looked at the knife, then at Jason. Jason looked at me and shook his head in disapproval. Uncle laughed.
“I don’t think you can do it, peanut.” The tone was taunting and menacing. Uncles began to walk towards us. “Stay right there,” I projected from my throat. Uncle froze in place. He smiled. “You cannot keep us at bay for long. Eventually, the rise will happen.” He looked at the portal and the statue. “It will all happen, no matter how much you fight; we are inevitable.” He laughed. Jason looked at him, the knife in his right hand. My gut told me if I were to rip my mouth open, it would weaken him more. I did not hesitate once I decided; I grabbed the knife from Jason’s hand. He grabbed my wrist to stop me. He squeezed my wrist and looked into my eyes. His eyes begged me not to do it. I had to
do it; my eyes told him I had no choice. I could feel the sweat rolling off my forehead. Jason let my wrist go and watched. I raised my right hand to my mouth; the knife shook as it brought it close to my sealed mouth. Uncle watched, amazed. I know it would hurt less if I just did. I took the knife’s sharp tip and jammed it into my sealed mouth. Blood spurted out almost immediately; it worsened as I ran across to open the seal. Blood poured everywhere; the ground from my mouth, being ripped open, was covered in dark red puddles. I screamed as the seal broke in my mouth. Blood poured onto the floor from my freed lips. They were raw, jagged, and knife-cut. With the knife at my side, I screamed, “FUCK YOU!” Uncle looked at me. I looked at him. We ran towards each other. His mouth is full of razor-sharp teeth, unhinged, ready to bite into my flesh. Knife at the ready in my right hand, I charged him. I narrowly avoided his sharp teeth by sidestepping him. He completely missed me and stumbled toward Jason. Jason kicked him square in the face, sending Uncle stumbling backward on his back. He fell to the stone floor with a hard thud, stunned. Cat stirred, and Jason became aware, sprinting towards her. I stood over Uncle; he began to laugh. “You are much more stubborn than I expected you to be, peanut.” I spat out blood; “the name is Lydia; I let you haunt me too long, you son of a bitch”, I responded. He started to move. I kicked him in the face. He made an audible sound of pain. “You ruined my life, mother fucker”. The knife shook in my hand. “You are all born to suffer; we created you intending for you to suffer; according to the Law of Morg, you’re our slaves. I looked it up in the portal, but it did not move. Jason held Cat back as she attempted to break free to attack me. I looked at her and Jason; Uncle was getting up. I took the knife in my right hand. With as much as I could muster, I plunged into Uncle’s head. As it entered his skull, “I screamed, Go away.” Uncle screamed in pain as green blood poured from his head. He looked at me, his eyes full of malice. “Go away,” I repeated. I spat in his face. With that, Uncle was pulled towards the portal, and he screamed.
Chapter 39
Uncle attempts to claw at the stone floor as an anchor. Silence. Cat whimpers as she watches her Uncle being dragged toward the portal. A knife protrudes from his head, green blood trailing behind him as he moves toward his final destination. Eight spider legs emerge at the portal’s edge, pulling Uncle into it. A scream. The portal closes. The temple shakes.
I find myself back in my hospital room in a burst of light. The mechanical click of a distant elevator echoes in the hallway, its mundane sound now tainted with an eerie resonance as it intrudes on the silence. It is a reminder that the normal world still exists beyond these walls, yet it feels fragile, permeable. A chill runs down my spine as I realize the nurse is gone, leaving me alone with the echoes of that ominous sound.
As I approach the desk, the nurse reviews the paperwork. “Oh, great. Your ride just got here. Your parents are in the outer waiting room.” She stands up and pushes the paperwork toward me, reviewing each line I must sign. She also hands me an aftercare plan, including follow-up at their associated outpatient clinic and medications and prescriptions.
“Okay, we are all set.” The nurse gets up to escort me to the door. “How’s Cat?” I blurt out. She looks at me with a curious expression. “You know how she is. After the party last night, Cat had an issue, and she is under supervision in her room.” I nod. “Can I speak to her when she is better?” “Of course, in about three days, call the front desk, your discharge number, and ask for me.” I nod my head. “Okay, dear, Mom and Dad are waiting.” I nod again, and we walk toward the double doors. She removes a key card and swipes it on the grey electronic pad to the right of the doors. With a swipe, I am free. Neither of us notices Cat peeking her head out of her room door with a smile.
Chapter 40
I embrace my parents, and they are happy to see me. They report that Jason has called and is safe, back home. He does not go into details with them. A sense of relief washes over me that he is okay and has survived the confrontation with Uncle. So many have died for what? My parents insist on taking me home and staying for a few days. My place is small, but I’ve lost all fight. My parents have my phone and will hand it to me when we leave the hospital. The first week of November is now, and the world feels different. I text Jason and wait nervously for those three dots on my iPhone to appear. When they do, my heart starts to beat faster. “Will call later, still trying to get my head together.” He feels it too. I respond, “I love you.” The three dots appear again, and he responds, “I love you more.” I smile and insist that my parents get me a burger and fries. They happily oblige. Fast food has never tasted so good in my life. I want to open up to my parents, but I know I can’t. At least Cat and Jason know, and we can process this together.
I embrace my parents, and they are happy to see me. They report that Jason has called and is safe, back home. He does not go into details with them. A sense of relief washes over me that he is okay and has survived the confrontation with Uncle. So many have died for what? My parents insist on taking me home and staying for a few days. My place is small, but I’ve lost all fight. My parents have my phone and will hand it to me when we leave the hospital. The first week of November is now, and the world feels different. I text Jason and wait nervously for those three dots on my iPhone to appear. When they do, my heart starts to beat faster. “Will call later, still trying to get my head together.” He feels it too. I respond, “I love you.” The three dots appear again, and he responds, “I love you more.” I smile and insist that my parents get me a burger and fries. They happily oblige. Fast food has never tasted so good in my life. I want to open up to my parents, but I know I can’t. At least Cat and Jason know, and we can process this together.
She has never killed anybody. It is all clear to her that she needs to finish it. Yet, deep down, a flicker of resistance fidgets in Cat’s mind, like a candle stubbornly staying lit in the harsh wind of Uncle’s pervasive influence. That voice in her head, the one that whispers doubts and memories of who she used to be, grows fainter with each passing moment under Uncle’s shadow. She hesitates, her hand trembling slightly, yet she finds a strange, twisted conviction in Uncle’s control, a power that makes her feel more alive and free than she ever did before.
The young nurse, Bridget, does not give up much of a struggle when Cat attacks her. It feels unnatural at first; a knot of discomfort settles in Cat’s stomach, reminding her that she is crossing an irreversible line. Yet, as she pulls the girl closer to her body, her right hand over Bridget’s mouth, she knows what to do. She snaps the girl’s neck like a twig with no remorse. Now, with the scene set, poor Bridget has a terrible accident and breaks her neck. Cat knows she has his strength now. She understands what to do, a puppeteer with threads of darkness pulling at her every move. He leaves a piece of himself with her. His force guides her.
With Bridget’s body in place, she screams. The footsteps come quickly. The door opens, revealing the nurse who smiles too much. ‘She fell, omg, and hit her head on the end of the chair.’ The nurse rushes to the body on the floor, her instinct nudging her to bend over and check for a pulse. That is her fatal mistake. Like a predator, Cat attacks. The nurse puts up more of a fight, even taking a bite out of Cat’s hand. Cat releases her grip, and the nurse sprints for the door. Regaining her composure, Cat takes a running leap and tackles the nurse before she reaches the doorway.
The nurse hits the floor with a thud, Cat on top of her. Cat grabs the nurse by her hair and pulls her. ‘I hate happy people,’ she spits, then smashes the nurse’s head against the vinyl floor. The nurse screams, ‘There is blood.’ Cat does this repeatedly on the vinyl until the nurse stops crying, blood covering her and pooling on the floor. As backup, Cat takes the nurse’s bloodied head into both her hands. As blood drips from the battered face, she twists the woman’s neck; it snaps, and the woman falls to the floor, blood pouring out of the wounds. Cat uses the back of the nurse’s uniform jacket to wipe her hands. She reaches into the nurse’s jacket pocket and takes out a set of keys and the key card. Looking around the room, she sees the two nurses’ bodies. She smiles. She is not the same Cat.
She walks out the door. The floor is quiet. Inside her, conflicting emotions rage—a sense of triumph mingled with a vestige of reluctance, a whisper of the person she once was. She moves quickly toward the end of the hall and the double doors. She moves as fast as she can to avoid being caught. But she is an orderly person who approaches from the other direction. He knows who she is. She is ready for this. She places the longest key from the dead nurse’s key into her right hand, resting the knuckles of her middle and index fingers against it. ‘You are supposed to be on bed rest; where is Nurse Bridget?’ ‘She came here to look for staff on duty and has not returned in some time.’ He looks at her, perplexed. ‘But she has a radio to call us when she needs something.’ Cat had forgotten this detail; he is walking closer to her.
Chapter 41
The Cat does not stop. She rushes out of the waiting area doors and into the stairwell, taking the steps two at a time until she reaches the bottom and bursts into the parking lot. She sprints toward the nearest exit, adrenaline pumping through her veins. When she feels she is far enough away, she finally pauses. Breathing hard, she bends over and places her hands on her knees, staying in that position for a few moments. Once she regains her breath, she straightens up, takes a deep breath, and exhales, feeling a surge of life return to her. She drops the key card, the radio, and the dead nurse’s keys into a nearby garbage can. There is also a date to attend. She starts walking westward.
Back at home, my dad insists on making his famous meatloaf and twice-baked potatoes for dinner. As he headed to the store, my mom was busy in the kitchen, working hard to prepare the meal. It’s a small apartment, but it’s mine—a space where I can eat, sleep, and shower. While Mom bustles in the kitchen, I sit on the couch, still processing everything that has happened: Uncle’s sudden reappearance, our showdown, the tragedy of the ladies who fell victim to him, and my friends lost in the hospital. It all points to the evil in the world, a reminder of our uncertain origins and destinations.
We’ve evolved from a weak and controlled species to the most dominant beings, and it’s a lot to take in. I want to speak to Jason and Cat soon to make sense of everything. After a long wait, I finally decided to shower, reveling in the heat of the water for the first time in ages. I looked in the mirror, staring at the reflection before me—someone had changed.
As I sit there in silence, staring at the wall, I wonder what’s next. Do I still want to do the show? There’s just too much swirling in my mind. Suddenly, the music in the kitchen stops, and an unsettling feeling of danger washes over me. The more I think about the encounter with Uncle, the more it feels real, yet surreal. I remember making him bleed with the knife; he has to have vulnerabilities. Was he truly sucked into that vortex by the spider’s legs, or has he merely been displaced, lurking in the shadows out of sight? It’s challenging to accept what I saw, and even more daunting to dismiss the possibility of his return. The thought of him coming back lingers ominously, much like the sound of a plastic cup clinking across the asphalt. It hints at an unfinished chapter that refuses to close. Somehow, deep inside, I know it’s real—a tangible clash between reality and fear. Am I destined to forever question the world around me, never certain if I am truly alone or merely being watched?
I wrap my hair in a towel and go to my bedroom. My mom is still listening to music while she cleans up. Having them around in this small space feels awkward but comforting. I slip into sweats, sit on the edge of my bed, and glance at my phone—still no word from Jason. I know I should give him space; he has dealt with Uncle far longer than I have and needs time to heal, both physically and mentally. Yet, whether Uncle’s defeat is final or just a temporary victory remains an unsettling mystery.
“Cat, we don’t need to do this.” Cat tilts her head, like a dog, when she hears her name. “We need to finish it,” she responds, her grip tightening on the knife hilt as it inches closer to Mom’s throat. “He is gone; you don’t have to be this way anymore; he’s gone, and so is Spiderlady.” She presses the knife even closer to Mom’s neck after I say this. “Oh, he’ll be back, and maybe she will too, but since I’m here now, I might as well take you out now.”
“Why?” I ask. “He is with me always now and part of me; we become one.” My mind races with the implications of what she’s saying. “Since we are one, his voice is inside me now, and he wants me to destroy you so no one stands in his way when he does return.” An evil grin spreads across her face. Everything slows down. The knife glides with precision across my mom’s throat. Blood. I rush at Cat, feeling a sharp pain, and we all fall to the floor. Mom is bleeding. A struggle ensues for the knife. I throw punches, landing one squarely on Cat’s jaw. She’s dazed and confused. Seizing the opportunity, I grab the knife. I have no choice; I throw a knockout punch at Cat. She collapses to the floor with a thud, her head hitting the ground hard.
My dad walks in, shock written all over his face. I scream at him to call 911 as I try to stop the bleeding on Mom’s throat. The bags in Dad’s hands drop to the floor, and he dials the phone. I apply pressure to Mom’s wound. The rest becomes a blur. I snap out of shock when I feel a hand touch me. It’s Jason, holding paper hot cups from a local coffee shop in a carrying tray. Dad sits beside me, sleeping in a chair, his face a mess, as if he’s fought a world-class boxer. He smiles at me. “You’ve gone from a radio host to an action hero in a month.” I return the smile and adjust myself in the chair.
“Are you okay?” he asks. The last few hours flood back: Mom has lost a lot of blood from her wound, and Cat is gone. I call Jason’s name. “I’m okay, coming to terms with what happened,” he says, sitting and setting the tray of hot cups on his legs. We sit in silence for a moment, absorbing everything around us. “You think he is gone?” he finally asks. I reflect on what Uncle said about gods and their immortality. “I do think so; I think he’ll be back,” I reply. He nods.
“That girl, Cat, you were friends?” he inquires. I nod. “I met her in the mental health unit; she was a nice kid haunted by a spider lady who was a Greek god. Uncle sent her away to another plane of existence. I think I sent him there, too,” I conclude. Jason nods, “He is influencing her?” “Seems that way. He influenced another one who attacked me on the mental health floor.” “The girl you had to kill in self-defense,” he responds. “How did you know?” I ask. He hands me a cup of coffee, just as I like it. “You hear things when kidnapped by a megalomaniac elder God looking for world dominance,” he says smoothly.
“I’m sorry I got you into this,” I respond. “Do not be. I wanted to be a part of it, but I didn’t know kidnapping was involved. I’ll be better prepared next time,” Jason states with a smile. A chill runs down my spine. I sip my coffee. “We will both be better prepared,” I admit. “You did pretty well; I knew you had it in you, and pulling off that trick with the voice was resourceful. You are a kick-ass supernatural force,” Jason concludes. I smile. “You made a great damsel in distress turned sidekick,” I say with a chuckle. Jason chuckles as well. “I will be Robin to your Batman anytime.” He takes a sip of his coffee.
Dad starts to stir, calling out my mom’s name. I touch him gently. Dad wakes up and looks at me, taking moments to gain his bearings. “I must have fallen asleep. Is there any news on Mom, hun?” “Nothing,” I answer. He seems upset by this response. “I got your coffee. How do you like Mr. B?” Jason chimes in. Dad cracks a smile, “Thanks, Jason.” Upon seeing Jason’s face, my father asks, “What happened to you?” I explain, “I had an accident while heading up to Xaixer, so I was in a local hospital for a few days; I didn’t want to worry anyone with this one in the hospital.” He gently touches my shoulder to indicate he’s talking about me. I smile awkwardly.
“This has been a shit month. My daughter lands in the hospital, then has a mental breakdown, bounces back, and my ex is brutally attacked by an escaped mental patient obsessed with my little girl.” Jason and I sit in silence, unable to respond.
Chapter 43
We still do not know that Cat kills a nurse and brutally attacks a security guard in her quest to get me. Uncle populates her mind; I fear she will never be the sweet girl I met. Our silence gets interrupted by Mom’s surgeon entering the waiting area. We all look up with hope, desperate to hear good news. The surgeon’s face, weighed down with sadness, tells us everything before his words confirm our worst fears. The news shatters me into pieces. Mom does not make it. Uncle gets his revenge on me by cruelly ripping away one of the closest people in my life. As the words sink in, I feel my world collapsing. Emotions swirl in a chaotic dance—grief, anger, and disbelief wrapping around my heart, squeezing it until breathing becomes a struggle. The guilt piles on—a constant whisper that screams I should have done more, that I could have protected her. Each breath feels like a betrayal, illustrating how fragile and unpredictable life is, leaving a poignant void that resonates within me.
A few days later, my mother is buried in the family plot at a cemetery a town over. Jason offers his support, standing by my side through the heavy waves of mourning that refuse to ebb. Dad wears a heavy cloak of sorrow, too, but there’s a soft affection as he talks about moving closer to me, an idea I don’t mind at all. As we leave the cemetery, the unfinished business with Uncle lingers in the air like a bitter wind. I make a silent vow to my mother that if Uncle ever returns, I will be ready to confront him, ready to demand retribution for the anguish he has wrought. I decide to put the show on pause for a while. I cannot stand being in the studio, listening to other people’s stories. Cat is locked up now; the girl I befriended has taken my mother’s life. I am still trying to make sense of everything that has happened over the last month.
The cat lies on her cot, and the walls are concrete. They say she is crazy, but she isn’t; she is actually preparing for the next steps. She turns over, and the cot creaks as she adjusts her weight. Her eyes are wide open as she stares at the ceiling. She starts to hum. Then, a smile crosses her face. The voice is crisp and clear. “Hello, Peanut.”