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Directed by=Waymon Boone / year=2019 / 1hour 23m / A group of young people, guided by an app which connects living with the dead, find themselves at an abandoned castle. A place with a horrific history tied to each of them, for reasons they'll soon discover / writers=Howard Burd, Mark S. Allen /

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Preston school of industry music. HIMYM <3. *The year was 1915, and America was deep into its “Separate but Equal” phase of racism. The silent film “*The Birth of a Nation”  was invigorating thousands, Caucasians flocking to see the film and African Americans to protest. This furthered the racial segregation at the time, and many acknowledge the film as the inspiration for the reemergence of the Ku Klux Klan in many cities throughout the nation. Redford was no exception. Bobby McGrath, who had taken over the department store after his father Roberts suicide, was quite the progressive thinker. He was, in fact, vehemently pro-equality among all peoples, his personal journal would reveal. The Museum of Redford considered Bobby to be of enough interest to acquire this journal, and while its entirety is not made available to the public, a few greased palms was all it took to grant this journalist access. Within its pages, the guilt-stricken ramblings of a tormented mind, either a descent into madness, or the dawn of a dark secret beginning to take its toll on the young Bobby McGrath. Ive included three entries of particular interest. January 3rd, 1914 “So many miss out on the skills of their fellow man, simply because he has a darker complexion. This is an aspect of the world that I do not understand. A man born blind has no concept of skin color, a newborn knows not the difference. It is clear to me that the ‘superiority of my fellow whites is a myth perpetuated by their fathers and mothers. Perhaps it is my own fathers hatred of all people who could not add to his wealth that spared me this hateful belief. For the longest time I thought he hated me for killing my mother when she brought me into this world, but in time I came to realize he hated me because he viewed me as an ‘expense. In a way I am grateful for that, as without his spoiling, I was able to connect with my fellow man, whom I saw struggle regardless of skin color. Unfortunately, my fathers suicide thrust me into a world I still do not fully comprehend. I, being his only benefactor, inherited his small empire, but with no knowledge of how such a machination works, it has been, to say, a failure. Today, I met with a man whos father instilled in him all the things my own had neglected me. He offered his services in book keeping and managing the money my father had passed on to me, as well as the business. William Danes, his name is. Ive spoken to Clara about hiring the man, and while she maintains that he is lesser than us due to being born black, that shes far too busy caring for Clayton, our infant, to really worry with the business. I think Ill take Mister Danes up on his offer. There is something so magnetic about him…”. January 15th, 1915 “Oh what would I do without my dearest friend William? I have no doubt that my inheritance would be nearly squandered by now, and the business in ruin. How I managed those first few years without him is a complete mystery, unless, of course, my fathers suicide note is to be believed. Of course, that letter was writ whilst drunk, his madness soaking each line of text. No, the only true reason the department store flourishes today is because of William. His knowledge that hes gladly passed to me through the last year has been invaluable, and a weight has been lifted from my shoulders. I am forever grateful to that man. I look at him, his ebony skin, his warming smile full of those perfectly straight, white teeth, and my heart feels an undeniable attraction. I fear what this could mean. Clara has been unfortunately neglected, and I do feel guilt for that, however this feeling I get when I am near my best friend, its something she, nor any female has ever stoked in me. Perhaps this fault in me can be sated privately, though, as I have dealt with it for many months alone. Im positive it is not a flaw shared by my dear friend, and dare not consider letting anyone know of that defects existence within me. No, I shall continue to admire William from an emotionally safe distance. I cant help but wonder, though…. ”. November 4th, 1915 “My father spoke of monsters lurking in the department store in his suicide note. The real monsters, however, lurk in society. They came for my dear William last night, with their ropes and white hoods. I was the one, unfortunately, who found him this morning hanged from the tall oak tree on the north side of the department store. I did not recognize his body, not at first. It had been mutilated, feet and hands cut from the body, his genitals had been destroyed. His skin was scorched, and still smoldering as I approached, seeing the remaining embers of the wood theyd used, smoldering on the ground below. There in the remains of the fire is where I saw his missing appendages. The flesh was stripped from his knees down completely, and the rest of my friends skin had been grossly discolored, the pale pink of muscles contrasted horrifically against the seared black remains of his tissue. This monstrous apparition of my dear William stared blankly at me with smoke-blinded eyes, and I saw that his lips had been either burned away, or worse…showing off his straight teeth. “The store itself was vandalized, windows shattered, the door kicked free of its hinges, hateful vulgarities against our black brothers slathered across the walls in black paint. I understood at that moment what my father meant when he wrote the words ‘Its hunger is never satisfied, only temporarily satiated. I cursed my fathers name as I embraced my dead friends skinless legs. I had to stop that godawful swaying. “If fathers words were true, then it does indeed need to be fed. I dont know yet who did this to my dear William, but I am a man of considerable means. Tomorrow, I send Clara and Clayton to her mothers, and begin the hunt. It shall feed, and it shall feed heartily. ”. Authors note: This was the last entry in the journal, despite Bobby McGrath living for quite some time after. In addition, no arrests were ever made for the murder of William Danes, however, five men went missing between the years of 1916 and 1919…all had ties to the Ku Klux Klan. I glanced in my rear-view mirror, and determined that I wasnt being followed. I slowed my speed as Abby quietly awaited my decision. Part of me wanted to forget about the diner in light of my attack, but there was another part of me that was already writing about it in my head. I had a feeling that I was merely scratching the tip of the iceberg, and Slappys story needed to be told. “Now or never, huh? ” I asked. “Thats right. Now or never. In or out? ” Abby answered, zero humor in her tone. “Im in. Where? ” I asked, only to be met with a dial tone. Im sure the “what the hell” look on my face was unbecoming, but the eerie feeling that had washed over me of being watched made me feel far more uncomfortable than self conscious. Then, my phone chimed its “message received” sound. It was a text message from Abby, containing only an address, which I was able to simply tap on to bring up my GPS. The location was twenty miles from my position. Even though I was beginning to creep into the early hours of the morning, I wasnt tired in the slightest. I was quite wired, actually, as I pulled into the drive way of the modest, yet stylish single floor home. I would liken it to a modernized cottage. It didnt lack personality, despite looking similar to its suburban neighbors; the decision to fill the lawn with white gravel instead of grass, and the contrasting black cobblestone walkway that carved a path from the driveway to the door was indicative of an artistic mind. The abstract sculptures that decorated the bleached landscape only solidified the imaginative aesthetic. There were three, all humble in their size, looking classy rather than gaudy, and they invoked a single action. Dancing. Their forms were only vaguely humanoid, but their dreamy, surreal message was clear. I left them to their frolic as I strolled up the walkway, and approached the door. I could see lights on inside, but was still uncertain with my knocking. Then, I heard the latch turn. As the door slowly opened, I saw that she had her little sisters blonde curls, but lacked Pennys sunny disposition, and as she wheeled herself back from the door to permit me entry, I saw why. Abby made no attempt to hide her handicap, boldly wearing sorts that were quite revealing, leaving her stumps fully exposed. Both legs had been severed just above the knee. I was unprepared for what I was seeing, but refused to rudely stare at her double amputation. Instead I focused on her bespectacled face. Her sleek glasses left lens was completely blacked out, indicating blindness in that eye, but the pale, jagged scar flanked by smaller pinhole scars that peeked from above and below the silver frames told me that it was more than simple visual impairment. Her other eye, a stunning emerald, watched me as I entered her home. “Not many people get to see Fishers handiwork up close, stud. ” Abby said nonchalantly as she manipulated her wheelchair to turn and close the front door. The tank top she was wearing revealed the twisted, long healed flesh of her back. It was the unmistakable result of severe burns. “I…uh…” I muttered, searching for the words that didnt exist. “Im sorry for staring? ” Abby suggested, as she turned back toward me, gesturing toward a couch. “Im sorry for staring. ” I relented as I took my seat. “Everyone does. Most dont have the balls to admit it, though. I shouldn't be surprised, isn't that why you're here? You want to hear my story, right? ” Abby smirked, a far cry from her sisters beaming grin. “Im writing about Slappys. If youre comfortable sharing your experiences with me, I would be glad to include them. ” I said, offering my own smile. “Would you like a drink, Mr. Collins? I could use one. Reminiscing, it isnt the easiest for me. ” she said, her chair gliding into the kitchen. She was quite graceful, having obviously mastered her wheelchair in her years of being bound to it. I politely declined, and a moment later she reappeared with a bottle of wine and a single glass in her lap. She wordlessly planted them on the coffee table between us, and poured herself a glass. “Im going to need quite a bit more than this to talk about Fisher…” she raised her glass and took a swig. “…but that isn't my only story. Dont you need to write this down, or something? ” she asked as she finished her glass, and slightly contorted her face before pouring another. “No maam, I prefer to keep all of my attention on my interviewee, taking notes makes it seem so…clinical. ” I explained. “Oh I like you. So youre some kind of horror writer? ” she asked, sipping her wine this time. I chuckled. “Something like that. And Penny said you were both big fans. ” I said, drawing a snicker from my host. “Penny…she can be…how to put it…optimistic. Mom and Dad sheltered her, and even more so after…” She waved her free hand over her disfigured body. “And, Im sorry to say, Mr. Collins, but Id never heard of you before today. I havent spoken to Penny recently, as a matter of fact. You sure you heard her right? ” “Oh no worries, please, I am so far from offended it isn't funny. To be honest, Pennys fandom sort of took me by surprise. Youre in the majority, Im afraid. Most people have never heard of me. ” We both chuckled a bit at this, and I could tell that Abby wasnt a big drinker, as she was already loosened up. I was positive I hadnt misheard Penny, but reckoned the young girl could have been appealing to my ego. “Well, Jack…can I call you Jack? ” “Certainly, if I may call you Abby. ” “Of course. Jack, do you believe in ghosts? ” She questioned, her tone serious. “I dont know, I personally have never met one. ” I said, trying to sound aloof about the subject. Im by no means a ghost hunter, or a paranormal investigator, but most people I meet assume that. I fancy myself more of a true crime journalist. Abby took a huge drink from her glass, and refilled it as she continued. “I have. Ive met a ghost, Jack. A young girl, with long black hair and a white gown. She was sitting in a stall in the ladies room, filthy, brown water dripping from her. The worst part about her, though, was the parts of her face not obscured with her wet hair were moving. She was mouthing something, but no words came out. Heres the kicker…I only saw her through a mirror. When I turned, she was gone, but the puddle remained. ” Abby moved her glass to her lips, but didnt take a drink. Instead she placed it on the table next to the bottle. I had a feeling Abby was playing up a ghost story shed heard, as she was describing something Id read about mere hours earlier, and it was hard for me to wrap my head around someone having gone through as much trauma as she had having the most reliable memory. Perhaps she saw SOMETHING and the story or her mind filled in the blanks. “Are you aware of Candace Newton? ” I asked. “Newman. Candace Newman. The eleven year old girl whos own mother drowned her in the toilet of Slappys ladies room in 1990. Of course I have. Kathy Newman dressed her daughter in a lovely white sundress, and took her out for ice cream for a girls day. The story goes, that her mother, in a fit of madness, took her own daughters life. But did you know that Kathy was never seen again? ” “She disappeared after leaving the diner. ” I answered, trying to redeem myself for getting the girls last name wrong. “Did she? I can see youve been doing your homework, but the official story is rarely the full story when it comes to that…place. Candaces mother was never found after leaving the diner, because she never left. ” Abby spoke before downing another glass of wine. A somber look fell over her. “So where did she go? ” I questioned. “No one knows. ” She shrugged. “But rumor has it, there was residue on the body. The same residue thats used to make those porous ceiling tiles. Exactly like the ones in Slappys restrooms. Would you mind if I…? ” She pointed to her glasses. I looked at her inquisitively, not understanding what she was asking. Thankfully, she saw this on my face. “I only wear them in public, and to be honest theyre quite uncomfortable since Im not accustomed to them. My appearance has been known to frighten children. You arent a child, are you Jack? ” She said, her words slurring the slightest bit. “Oh! No, by all means. Its your home, Abby. Make yourself comfortable. ” I said. She removed her glasses, and focused her good eye, her only eye on me…no doubt reading my reaction. I was stoic but inside my heart broke. I saw that her socket must have been completely destroyed, and the flesh that was once her eyelids had been fused together. “There wasnt much the doctors could do. ” She spoke, sadness soaking her words. “A glass eye wasnt even an option due to the bone damage. This bothers me more than the scars, or even losing my legs. Children, even men, see people in wheelchairs often. The burns can be hidden by sweaters…but this…” She lightly ran a finger the length of the scar that ran from her eyebrow to her cheek. “This assures that kids will see me as a monster, and almost guarantees that no man will ever touch me. ” I sat quietly as she wheeled herself to a nearby shelving unit filled with photographs. She took one and glided over next to me, showing me the picture. It was one of a beautiful young girl with luminous green eyes. In the photo, all of Abbys limbs were intact, and I recognized the wide, energetic smile now sported by her sister. Speaking of Penny, the shy looking, pony tailed little girl holding Abbys hand had to be her. “I never thought Id peak at 16. If I had known where I would be later the year this picture was taken, I would have let Sam Davidson get in my pants. ” She snorted as she laughed, obviously drunk. “No, silly Abby was saving herself for a marriage that would never come. Sam moved on after, leaving me all alone. Who knows what might have been had it not been for Slappys. ” She mused. “Abby…” I uttered. “Oh, dont worry stud, Im not trying to seduce you. My only experience with sex was with Fisher fuckin Pine, and it was far from pleasurable. Pretty much killed any interest in intimacy…I just like to wonder sometimes what it would be like to be a wife, or a mom. ” She said as she lightly replaced the photo in its allotted place. “Marriage isnt all its cracked up to be. ” I said, immediately regretting it, given my hosts circumstances. Thankfully, she didnt take it as me belittling her thoughts and feelings. “Speaking from experience? ” She asked, peeking her good eye over her shoulder at me. “Yeah, I am. ” I answered. “Still married? ” “... ” I said coarsely. There was a long moment of silence that followed. We were at a standstill, neither of us wanting to ask about the subject the other was clearly uncomfortable with. It was Abby that spoke up, still beside her photo shelf. “Im sorry Jack, its getting late, and Im getting drunk…” Both of which were big understatements… “I understand, any chance we can pick up the interview tomorrow? ” I asked, as I stood. She gave me a half-smile. “We can try…” She said distantly as she sailed toward the door. I followed her lead. “Thank you for your time, Abby. I look forward to speaking again soon. ” I said as I crossed the threshold of the doorway. “Jack…” She almost whispered. “There are monsters in those walls. I wanted you to see me. See what those monsters can do to someone. That place chewed me up, Jack, and not many people get spit back out. You see, Im one of the few lucky ones…” A single tear streamed down her cheek from her remaining eye as she closed the door before I could say another word.   As I made my way back toward my car, the sculptures in the pale, barren yard took on a much sadder tone. They were perpetually doing what their creator never would. It was this thought that haunted me while I drove home. Id all but forgotten about my attack when I crawled into my bed, and decided that the time for a police report had come and gone. I was in another city, and my assailant likely long gone. Besides, Id have to explain why I was suspiciously lurking around a closed restaurant. In short, I was tired and it felt like a waste of time to involve the authorities. Not like the mugger was successful. I put it out of my mind as I drifted into dreamland. I slept until 1PM. It would have likely been later had my phones “brrrrrring” hadnt jerked me awake. Seeing the name on screen, I brought the device to my ear and answered. “Hello? ” I spoke, trying to sound more awake than I was. “Jack, the lawyer said the divorce papers should have arrived this last week. Have you gotten them yet? ” Katies voice was stern and devoid of any emotion. “I haven't. ” I lied, knowing full well that they were in my mailbox. “Travis and I want to get married for our one year anniversary. We cant do that if Im still legally married to you. ” She said, sounding way to righteous for someone who had been caught with another man in our marital bed only three months prior. “Bold, Kate, very bold. When is that anniversary, about five months after ours, right? Im trying to do that math in my head, and you know…something seems off. ” I said, sounding as combative as I intended. “Dont you just want to move on Jack, I have! Dont you care about my happiness? ” She said. “Look, Im out of town on a new job. The papers may be back at the apartment. Ill drive down sometime this week and see. ” I lied again. “Take care of yourself Jack. ” Katie spat after a long, exasperated sigh. The call ended immediately after. I stood from my bed and marched to the door of my apartment, muttering to myself unsavory things about my ex-partner. I threw on a clean pair of jeans and polo shirt before stomping downstairs and opening my assigned mailbox, which was nestled into its group of identical wall mounted boxes. I was angry, and remember thinking that she already had the house, and that was all she was getting, so why the hell not just sign it and be done. I grabbed the envelope, briefly registering that the letter Id penned the night before had been collected, and stomped back upstairs. I tore the envelope open and slammed the stack of papers it contained onto the end table. I flipped through to the page with the “X” and blank line following it. I took the only the slightest bit of solace knowing that she wouldnt get a cent of my inheritance as I scribbled my name on the page. I finished the last flourish of my signature and let out a deep sigh. That was it. Id done it. Id relented, and signed something I didnt accept. Shed won. I folded the stack of papers, and placed them in a new envelope, which I then slid into my back pocket. I knew that I needed to get my mind on something else, and I remembered how the “writers high” felt the night before. I grabbed my phone and pulled up the recent calls, scrolled right past Katies number and clicked the string of digits I knew to belong to Abby Sullivan. The phone rang a few times, but there was no answer, and I opted not to leave a message. Shed as much as said that remembering the past made her less than comfortable, and after gleaning a bit into her story, I didnt blame her. Besides, I had other avenues to explore. I finished getting dressed, and again made the long journey to Redford…to Slappys. The place didnt look quite as abandoned during the day, but an air of mystique still shrouded the large building. I drove through the parking lot as I had the night before, seeing only a few vehicles parked around the corner. I still found myself baffled at how large the parking lot was, and wondered how exactly the diner drummed up any business being tucked away, virtually out of the publics eye. I pulled around the corner and parked my car under the large oak tree…the only thing in the parking lot that wasnt asphalt. I exited my vehicle, and stood in the shade of the tree and took my first earnest look at Slappys Diner. The sun reflected brilliantly off of the chrome window trimmings, and the checker pattern really popped during the day. Even the statue of Slappy didnt look nearly as grim in the light of day. I heard a charming little bell jingle as I pushed the door reading “WELCOME” open. That was my first experience with the inside of the diner, and I took a moment to survey the place. The smell was subtle, cooking meat mingled with an aged smoke. Cigarette fumes from a bygone age, stuck to the walls, perhaps. The smooth, sultry voice of a well-mannered, quite likely elderly man was introducing the next song over the loudspeakers, but the volume was set to “just right” as to not feel overpowering. Following his introduction came the tune of some “rockabilly bop” that I wasnt familiar with, but nonetheless found quite energetic, and right at home in the crimson and chrome time capsule. The speakers, however, did betray the illusion. I was immediately privy to the ruse of the jukebox which sat in the corner, decorative only, no doubt. The place was so authentic-SEEMING, but there was something that felt artificial about it at the same time. Perhaps it was the man, or rather, the greasy teenage boy sneakily flipping through a comic book behind the cash register that contrasted with the hot-rod colored leather booths; or maybe it was the pixie cut on the young waitress that approached me with a menu. A decidedly un-50s haircut, even without the dyed pink streak that she had tucked behind her ear. She smiled up at me, and I saw from her braces, that the retro theme only went as far as surface level. She did wear the uniform, though…white apron over a red dress complete with a neckerchief. She was without the paper hat, an honor that seemed exclusive to her male counterpart who was still engrossed in the pages he flipped through. A thought struck me as I returned the girls smile. This had been Abby, nearly three decades ago. And remembering the woman Id spoken with the night before, I felt a pang of sadness. I understood in that moment just how much of her life had been taken from her. The girl smiling up at me, offering me a menu, couldnt have been much older than Abby had been back then. She was just a kid when she went through everything, and that really put things into perspective for me. The adult I met was a product of what had happened to her as a child, and her musings on what could have been became all the more disheartening. “Good afternoon, sir, Im Lydia, welcome to Slappys! Ill be taking care of you today! ” The young waitress recited. I accepted the menu and followed her to a booth, one in the corner, nearest the faux jukebox. I had a great view of the window my back had been slammed into the night before. “Start you with a drink, sir? ” Lydia asked me. “Water, please. ” I said as pleasantly as possible. She smiled and told me “No problem! ” before departing. I watched as she made her way behind the bar, and disappeared through an open doorway. It was only then that I remembered exactly what I was looking at just before I was grabbed from behind. As I watched Lydia cross that threshold, the memory of the small, shadowy figure Id seen previously sent a chill up my spine. Seeing the doorway lit up, there was very little doubt in my mind that something had been standing there the prior night. I began to notice more…strangeness…about my surroundings after that realization. Like the decorative photos that adorned the wall my booth was fixed to. There were seven of them, all of 50s cars. That wasnt the odd part, as I suspect similar photographs would reside in any diner themed for that decade. No, what seemed so off about them, was that each of them had a man in the drivers seat, the same driver, and this man had no face. Now, the photos appeared to have been from the 1920s, black and white, washed out to the point it was nearly difficult to gaze upon them. The driver, though, aside from being faceless, had only one defining feature. A black drivers hat. I thought that maybe the man had requested his identity be concealed…and perhaps his face may have simply been painted over, since technology was limited at the time. I didnt know. Im far from a photography expert, so I chalked it up as something definitely weird, but not too unnatural. Perhaps that was naive of me, but in any case, the photographs werent nearly as concerning as the glass box hung on the opposite wall, the one that would have been the divider between Slappys Diner, and the remains of McGraths Department Store. Inside of the glass display box sat a doll. The doll didnt scream “50s” to me so much, but it reeked of “horror movie prop”. The creepy thing was a baby doll, aged and discolored; it looked to be made of some kind of porcelain, except for its nude, beanbag like body. Each of its limbs had been posed to make it appear as if it were seated, hands in lap, patiently waiting for…who knows what. It had three sprigs of shiny, rubber-like, brown hair, resembling short Mohawks. One on the top of its head, and one above each of its ears. I suppose it was meant to look like a newborn, but instead it looked like the flattened fins of some kind of furry shark. Its drawn-on eyebrows were much too short, and thin, and it had the weird, vacant stare that made things seem like they was always looking at you, and I felt those big blue globes all over me in that moment. It sported a tiny nose, and an almost…smirk beneath it, again drawn or painted on the glassy porcelain. Surrounding the dolls glass housing were what I can only describe as “glamour shots” of the doll, posed with varying items of food. One had the doll with a comically large french fry held close to its pale face. Another had the doll laid prone on top of a sesame seed bun, arms dangling to the side of it and head lolling to the side. A third had the baby doll stuffed into a large glass cup, its head sticking out, and upon it it wore a crown of whipped cream, topped with a bright red cherry. A homemade wooden plaque beneath the dolls housing read “Baby Eliza LOVES Slappys! ” in what appeared to be rough, burnt letters. An amateur wood burning project, clearly. I could see how someone would consider the conglomeration “whimsical”, but the whole thing was so bizarre to me. I continued to inspect my surroundings, tearing my eyes from the peculiar shrine. Replacing the jaunty bop over the loudspeakers came the sophisticated voice again. It strangely spoke as if the broadcast were live. “Welcome back, and if youre just joining in, Im Spencer Maddox, your host here at Slappys Diner. I hope you enjoy your meal on this fine day, The only other patrons in the establishment were a family of three. They appeared quite normal, and I watched the mother attempting to coerce her toddler into taking a bite of her sandwich, a futile effort. The toddlers father was engaged in conversation with Lydia, having waved her over as she returned to the dining area. I couldnt hear what they were saying, but I watched as the girl shifted her weight from one leg to the other. It was clear that Dad didnt fully grasp that the customer service smile didnt mean that the waitress wanted to hear his life story, and he continued to flap his gums obliviously, Lydia nodded and continued her shifty dance. Finally, she was able to tear herself away, and I saw the perspiring glass of water as she approached me. I realized that I had yet to even look at the menu, and quickly glanced down to see that it was a slightly updated version compared to the one Penny owned. Any differences were minimal, and Slappy still graced the cover. I opened it just as the waitress sat the water on the table. “Have you decided what itll be, sir? ” She asked sweetly, taking a notepad from her apron. I pointed at the first thing I saw, a “Slappy Joe”, but before I could open my mouth to speak the pun, the jingle of the door sounded. Lydia turned to politely greet the new customer. “Hi welcome…to…-” She abruptly stopped mid-sentence, and returned her attention to me. Her eyes looked worried, and almost frantic. It was startling to see the sudden shift in her personality. “Would you excuse me for a moment, sir? ” She asked, turning and hurrying behind the bar again before waiting on a response. I turned my eyes to the newcomer, only to find the husky, older gentleman was staring bullets at me. He took a seat in the booth nearest the door, the same booth Id been looking at through the window. His glare was intense, and I felt as if he were trying to cause me to combust then and there. His head was bald, and would look much more intimidating if it weren't for the thick, white moustache that graced his upper lip. Facial hairstyle aside, the guy was quite barrel chested, and his black-eye looked fresh. The burly man only took his hate-filled eyes off of me when the yelling started. “Hey! ” A new voice called from behind the bar. “How many times do I have to throw you out of here, Terry! ” I craned my neck to see the owner of the venomous voice. He appeared to be in his early or mid thirties, and looked like hed be more at home modeling than managing a restaurant. He was dressed in an all black uniform that looked crisp, and clean, with his sleeves rolled to his elbows. His hair, equally black, was slicked back and perfectly manicured stubble decorated his cheeks and chin. He approached the bald man with a swagger, his electric blue eyes fiercely focused on his seated target. “Im here to see my son! ” The bald man…Terry…bellowed. The family of three sat, stunned, watching the scene unfold. Even the toddler, whod finally taken a bite of Moms hamburger had eyes glued. Lydia had joined her male counterpart behind the register, and both watched on. “Weve been over this so many times, man. No one has any idea what youre talking about. You need to leave. Or am I going to have to involve the police this time? ” The manager spoke, his tone softening only slightly. “I dont take orders from you! Wheres the woman? ” Terry shouted, standing abruptly, raking his arm across the table sending the metal napkin holder to the floor with a loud “clang”, the salt and pepper shakers both shattered, their contents spraying across the checkerboard floor. I heard the toddler begin to sob, frightened by the mans behavior, or perhaps the loud noise. “Wally, call the cops. Im not dealing with this today. ” The manager directed his order to the greasy teen manning the register. He then turned his attention to the family, who were now comforting their child. “Im so sorry about this folks, of course your meal will be on us. ” He said, all but ignoring the tantrum-throwing Terry who was hurling insults as he turned and stormed out the door. Dad gave a half-hearted smile and nodded at the manager, but the speed with which he stood, and pulled his child from the highchair was a clear indication that the family had had their fill of Slappys, in more ways than one. The manager looked at the boy behind the register, Wally, and waved his hand in a “forget it” motion. Wally gave him a blank stare and placed the phone back on its receiver. “Back to work guys. Thank you. Sorry again, folks…” He said, turning to see the family pushing through the door, the jingle ringing out. He then turned to see me, perhaps noticing me for the first time. “Some people, huh. Dont worry, Well comp your…” He stopped walking abruptly, and narrowed his eyes. “…Jack? ” Painto Presents.

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Preston school of industry story. Document #087-IV: RTF-Gamma-77 RTF-Gamma-77 consisted of: 77-1 - Lt. Marshall Ricks - ex-marine commander, specialized in CQB, covert ops. and hostage retrieval from enemy science and medical facilities. 77-2 - Simon "Gatt" Ling - weapons and demolition expert, specifically requested by 77-1 as his right hand man for this unit. 77-3 - Dr. Natasha Petrenko - combat medic. 77-4 - Donnie Wilkins - climbing, cartography and communications expert. 77-5 - Dr. Rita Campbell - science officer, appointed by Dr. ██████, psychology and paranormal activity specialist. Standard mission equipment for all RTF-G-77 members consisted of: 75 watt-equivalent energy-efficient flood lamp with battery power capable of lasting 24 hours. (one each) Three extra light-weight battery modules for total of 72 hours additional lighting. Green laser markers and rangefinders. (one each) LED-equipped color-coded vests for positive target identification in limited light conditions. (one each) Three sets of rock climbing equipment. Two compressed enriched air tanks and six masks, capable of providing breathable air for six persons for 72 hours in normal conditions. Three foldable thermal insulation covers. Compact AV recording device with local storage for 48 hours of continuous recording and no streaming capability. (one each) Two standard medkits. Ten 2L water bottles and protein bars for 72 hours of full nutrient supply, or over 100 hours of strictly rationed bare minimum nutrient supply. Additional and specialized equipment consisted of: For 77-1: One SigSauer P226 9mm handgun, equipped with suppressor and laser sight. Three additional magazines for handgun, for a total ammo capacity of 60 rounds. Ten Cyalume glowsticks. AV streaming device. Comms headset. For 77-2: One H&K MP5 9mm submachine gun with suppressor and laser sight. Two additional magazines for submachine gun, for a total ammo capacity of 120 rounds. Two shaped charge explosives with remote detonators. For 77-3: A stretcher. A first-response set of syringes with various substances for patients in critical condition: cortisol, adrenaline, broad-spectrum antibiotics, anesthetics, class-A amnestic, etc. A set of splints for limb fractures. A set of vials for taking probes. For 77-4: A set of ultra-lightweight high tensile strength ropes. A set of climbing equipment - belayer, shoe spikes, cams, RAD (Rapid Ascend and Descend) system. A high-gain radio station. For 77-5: A portable spectrograph. A set of inhalers, loaded with various psycho-modulatory substances: for induction or suppression of fear, anxiety, depression, fight-or-flight instinct, aggression. BRIEFING RTF-Gamma-77 and two Foundation staff members enter the briefing room. Dr. ██████: Ladies and gentlemen, if you're all ready, let's begin. First, a small disclaimer: depending on the outcome of this mission, the object may be considered for a Keter classification, it is entirely possible that those of you with clearance lower than Level 3 will be issued Class C amnestics at the end of the operation. Failure to comply with that directive, if it ever goes in effect, bears the standard Foundation-regulated consequences to which you all agreed when you signed up for a Task Force. With that, I give the word to Dr. Cass, who will be taking over for the duration. Cass: RTF-Gamma-77, my name is Dr. Jeremiah Cass. Due to this being a joint military and science operation, sanctioned by the Ethics Committee, I will be assuming operations command from Dr. ██████, who will remain as primary science advisor. Chain of command will be as follows: For everyone except Dr. Campbell, Lt. Ricks is your superior. In case of him suffering a KIA or MIA, interrupted communication, or is otherwise compromised - as per Control's estimate - I will be your direct superior. For Dr. Campbell, Ricks is your superior, except in aforementioned cases, or specific scientific duties, in which case Dr. ██████ will be your direct superior. Everyone with me so far? Members of the team nod. 77-1: What is our retreat policy? Is that my prerogative, or will it deem me "compromised" Dr. Cass: Good question. It depends on objective completion. With Primary Objective completed, full or partial retreat is your prerogative, albeit strongly unadvised. Meaning, you better have some good explanation. Until PO is completed, retreat is not acceptable, unless there's an imminent severe threat, that can't realistically be overcome at the spot. Let me be clear - trading lives is not what the Ethics Committee wants to do here, and this is not a suicide mission by any stretch of the imagination. Aside from that, retreat is also valid if secondary objectives have been completed to control's satisfaction, but let's ease into that, okay? First things first. You all should be familiar with SCP-087 by now, but to summarize: it's a staircase. It's dark. It's long, and there is - for the lack of a better description - a ghost head in it. What we don't know: How deep it goes. What inhibits light sources. What is the source of observed apparition. How did all of this come to be. Is it related to other known anomalies or entities. You were provided with the logs of previous exploration attempts with D-class personnel, correct? Members of the team nod. As you have read, we lost contact with D-9884 somewhere between the 625th and the 650th flight of stairs. We'd love to give you a more specific estimate, but the video is too dark and shaky, she was running as if the devil's chasing her. 77-2: Yeah, why did you keep sending in inexperienced expendables? It was obvious the thing either messes with their brain, or is simply creepy as hell and civilians can't handle it? What kind of debriefing were you expecting to get from the poor girl after what happened with the man in the previous attempt? Dr. Cass: The previous experiments were conducted by Dr. ██████ and are not up to debate or review at this point. You got all the materials we got, so let's please focus on the tasks ahead. That being: Primary Objective: Locate and, if viable, extract D-9884, preferably alive and conscious. Secondary Objective One: Establish foothold around the 650th landing and use it to stage further exploratory expeditions. Gather as much data as possible on the surroundings. Secondary Objective Two: Locate the end of the stairwell and/or the source of the crying and other audio-visual phenomenon. Extract if viable. Estimated mission time is 72 hours. As we don't know if this thing has reality-bending properties, you are over-provisioned for roughly 150% longer stay. Keep in mind that ascending will be much more taxing than descending, and plan accordingly. Your equipment has been arranged with regard to personal requests, 77-1's assessment of the situation, and the fact that you are entering a difficult to traverse terrain. We'd love to send you with full army support down there, but that's just not viable for a 5-member team and area of these constraints. Any questions regarding objectives and equipment? 77-3: How will extraction happen? Do we all climb up with the D-class, and then descend again, or do we split? Dr. Cass: That will be determined on ground by Team Leader. In case of him being compromised, chain of command rules apply. In case of no communication with any officer, you will have to assess the situation on-site and make your own damn minds, we can't tell you if we don't know what's happening. Frankly, I doubt you'll even find her. She had provisions for little over 24 hours, and it's been another 24 hours since we lost contact. Chances are she is dead or altogether missing. Final word on some specific procedures: You have different AV and comms equipment. Due to heavy constraints, we just can't load all of you with everything. That is why the majority of you are carrying light-weight local-storage AV recording devices, which we can not observe in real time. So, in case you need additional incentive to not remain down there forever - all the data you record is useless unless you bring it back. Only 1 and 4 have AV streaming devices that we can monitor directly. Also only 1, 4 and 5 have headsets to communicate back with base, although we expect to be able to hear 2 and 3 clearly through other people's microphones. Keep this in mind if splitting in groups down there. 4 is carrying a high-gain radio station. It is linked with your other AV and comms equipment. It allows more reliable connection with Control. Your AV and comms equipment can function independently, however a severely limited range, so we advise you to keep close proximity to 4 at all times. Additionally, 77-5 - Dr. Campbell - is carrying some medication that will help you overcome anomalous psychosis or paranoia that may be caused by SCP-087-1's presence. The effects are temporary, and quantities are limited. I suggest you do not rely on those, as they are entirely untested in this application, and is unknown if they are capable of countering 1's effects. Also, it is unknown if these won't cause an adverse effect, which is why both Dr. Campbell and Dr. Petrenko are equipped, capable, and allowed to put any of you under, should you start to misbehave. In other words - do your best to keep yourselves, your thoughts and your emotions in check. 77-4: One of those "reality anchor" thingies would've been useful here, can't we get one? Dr. Cass: Scranton Reality Anchors, first of all: are not designed to negate memetic or psychogenic anomalies; second: are expensive and too bulky for the current environment; and third: have the capacity to erase you from existence if they malfunction in one way or another, so they are only ever used if absolutely needed. And frankly, you are not cleared to even know they exist, let alone request one. Are we done wasting time here? 77-4 sighs. 77-1: How long are we expected to sustain the base we stage at level 650? Dr. Cass: That depends on how fast you are able to reach 650, along with other factors. It is up to you calculate resources and return trip, according to the situation on ground. The Secondary Objective will be considered failed if no expeditions are launched beyond the 650th. Infrastructure left behind is known to disappear, so your effort will likely be of no value to future expeditions, that is why you must capitalize on it, if possible. Any further questions? Team remains silent. Cass: In that case, gear up, we have a team that will assist you with your equipment in the staged armory. Once you have radio gear set up, keep constant contact with Control. We expect to hear radio chatter on at least every second flight. Godspeed. LOG RTF-Gamma-77, in full gear, stands on ground level landing of SCP-087. The flood lamps illuminate only the first 9 steps. Team is wearing color-coded LED vests. Radio communication established. Cass (C1) Testing radio link. Radio link is good on our side. Please confirm. 77-4: Confirmed. C1: Establishing designations for record. Jeremiah Cass - Control 1 - C1 Dr. ██████ - Control 2 - C2 Lt. Marshall Ricks - Team Leader - 77-1 (color coded Blue. Simon Ling - Demolition - 77-2 (color coded Red. Natasha Petrenko - Medic - 77-3 (color coded Gold. Donnie Wilkins - Comms and Navigation - 77-4 (color coded Green. Rita Campbell - Science - 77-5 (color coded Purple. Commence comms check. 1(Blue) Check. 2(Red) Check. 3(Gold) Check. 4(Green) Check. 5(Purple) Check. C1: Mission time 00:00, proceed at your discretion. Good luck down there. 1(Blue) Roger, thanks Control. Here we go. 3(Gold) Wow, it is pretty dark down there. 4(Green) Just as dark as the Cambodian jungle. Not a nice place to be lost, trust me. 5(Purple) So how many of you have actually worked on similar SCPs before? 1(Blue) My and Two's experience is sufficient and classified. 5(Purple) Okay… That sounds reassuring. 2(Red) Ricks may sound harsh, but it's all operational security with him. And let me tell you, once you've been in enough hot zones, you start to appreciate that way more than a sympathetic response. 3(Gold) Boys will be boys. I have worked on a few trans-dimensional SCPs. Nothing with apparitions, though. And I doubt this one is either. 4(Green) Wait, so what, you don't believe in ghosts? 3(Gold) I'm a doctor. Why is that so strange? 4(Green) I thought once you spend enough time in the Foundation, you start to believe anything. 5(Purple) Actually, people who would just "believe anything" are less likely to employ critical thinking, and therefore are less useful in examining SCPs. Jumping to the conclusion that what you're studying is a "ghost" just because the Foundation has a [REDACTED] in Site-███ that [REDACTED]… C1: Dr. Campbell, Control strongly advises you not to finish that sentence. One, progress report. 1(Blue) We've reached the third platform. Vocalizations are audible. We're moving at moderate pace. With all that equipment, one bad step is a broken neck. C1: Understood. We confirm reception of vocalizations over radio. Carry on. We will contact you with mission updates roughly every five minutes to track connection status. Mission time 05:00. 1(Blue) Roger, Control. 4(Green) Ok… so ignoring the [REDACTED] in the room, you are a ghost expert? And you do believe in ghosts? 5(Purple. Ghost" is a pretty broad term, but in short - yes, I have worked with anomalies, that would be considered "ghosts" by a D-class. 4(Green) So what's your take on this thing here? 5(Purple) The "child" I don't think there is a child down there. The "face"… I don't know. It may be just a projection. So far we have no data of it physically harming anyone. All of the D-class experiments sustained either psychological trauma, or physical trauma caused by their own actions. I believe we'll be ok. 2(Red) How many of your ghosts have been able to interact with the physical world? 5(Purple) Roughly around half. But there is no data to suggest 087-1 is among those. 3(Gold) So how long have you worked for the Foundation? 5(Purple) I don't know. I've been administered amnestics before. I believe my first few projects might have been as a sort of qualified D-class on some high priority SCPs. Thankfully, I passed. My earliest memory of working as junior research assistant for an SCP is of about seven years ago. C1: Mission time 10:00. Progress report? 1(Blue) We are on the 8th platform. All clear. C1: Roger. C2: Keep in mind that the earliest contact with 087-1 happened on the 51st landing. Each subsequent encounter has been deeper down. Technically the thing may appear at the next platform, or you may not see it for 600 more. 1(Blue) Understood. 5(Purple) What about you? 3(Gold) Me? Eight years Foundation employment, ten years as combat medic before that. And almost six years as ER. 5(Purple) Wow, at what age did you graduate medical school, six? You look so young, I would have never guessed you're such a hardened veteran. 3(Gold) Heh, thanks! 4(Green) Ling, hear that, we got a girl alliance forming out here. We better start bonding over beer, football and boob magazines right now, or they'll use their combined pink force to take over the team. 1(Blue) Wilkins, I will not have this kind of attitude on my team. 4(Green) Yessir! I was just joking around… What about you, Rambo? How long have you been kicking monsters in the face? 1(Blue) My exp… 4(Green. …experience is sufficient and classified" come on, man. What kind of O5-eyes-only-top-secret-end-of-the-world crap could I possibly deduce from knowing how long you've worked here? 1(Blue) Fourteen years. 4(Green) Holy shit. 5(Purple) Wow, that is pretty long for a Mobile Task Force, isn't it? The average expected lifespan is… 2(Red) Four years. Yes. 5(Purple) Damn. I guess you're pretty good then? 1(Blue) The men and women I worked with were pretty good. Thanks to them I'm here. 3(Gold) What happened to them? 1(Blue) Which ones? This is the seventh MTF I'm a part of. The third one I lead. Ling here is what's left of MTF-Epsilon-03. 3(Gold) I'm so sorry. 2(Red) We did our job. That's what matters. Their families can live in the normal world. Drive cars. Work jobs. Eat burgers. Not hide under their beds crying like they would, if they knew. The Foundation may be a bunch of psycho bastards, but they're the psycho bastards the world needs. Otherwise we're fucked. C1: Mission time 15:00. 4(Green) Speaking of the devil… C1: 1, report. 1(Blue) We're on the 15th platform. We're picking up the pace. No contact. C2: Rita, I'd like you to take some measurements. For reference. Spectrograph, sound and radio. 5(Purple) Okay, Control. Guys, I need you to stop and be silent, just for a moment. Team halts movement. 77-5 takes a spectrograph reading, while background audio of crying and pleading child is being recorded. After thirty seconds of recording are complete, 77-4 commissions a radiogram. Radio station beeps and whirls for a minute, then transmits readings to Control. C1: Ok, we got the data, starting analysis. 1(Blue) Roger. Come on, guys. Team starts moving down towards 16th platform. Weak vibrations are felt on the stairs and walls. 1(Blue) Halt. Vibrations end. C1: Sitrep. 1(Blue) Vibrations on the entire structure. Clear now. Wilkins, talk to me. 4(Green) The vibrations were vertical. That's not a fault line quake. Felt like landslide or cave-in. Both are theoretically impossible around here, we're on a bedrock. I'd say it's anomalous. C1: Noted. Confirm on assessment, nothing was felt up here. Proceed with care. Air is a bit dusty now, but visibility remains unchanged. We're moving on. 3(Gold) What do you think that might have been about? 5(Purple) Who knows. That's the first time this has happened on record, and we have no point of reference for anything down here. C1: Guys, Control here. We have preliminary analysis results. From what we're seeing so far, it seems you immediate environment is pretty well lit. I don't suppose you can confirm that? 1(Blue) Negative. 2(Red) It's darker than 682's ass in here. C1: In that case we must deduce that the sense of darkness is psychosomatic. 5(Purple) That explains why brighter lights have no effect. C1: In addition, audio analysis of vocalizations points to a natural source. There are variations in pitch, speed and echo frequency, meaning it is either not automated, or it is a very realistic simulation of an actual child trapped in a stairwell. As for radio waves - we are seeing some ultra-low frequency pulsations coming from below. Not consistent with any known phenomenon. Let us know if something else comes up. 3(Gold) Is it possible there's an actual child down there? 5(Purple) It is possible there's something down there that's doing its best to sound like one. 4(Green) So what happens if we find it and it's a child? 1(Blue) Per directive, we assess and extract. The guys on ground level will contain it. 4(Green) What happens if they can't contain it? 2(Red) What happens with any SCP if they can't contain it, man? We're fucked. We shoot it in the fucking head and blow it up with these babies, and if it's still there, we're fucked. 4(Green) How powerful are these things anyway? Like a grenade? 2(Red) Way more powerful, if properly used. One of these could bring the whole building down, if placed on the right spot. 3(Gold) Or the wrong spot. Let's try not to bury ourselves down here, can we? 2(Red) Don't worry, doc, I know what I'm doing. 4(Green) I believe you, however we have no way to deduce anything about this thing's structural integrity. It's plain walls and stairs, no support columns, no doorways. 2(Red) What about you, Wilkins, how long have you worked here? 4(Green) This is my second assignment. Little over two years. 3(Gold) Two years and only two assignments? Where did you get that sweet deal? 4(Green) First assignment was continuous maintenance on some inaccessible safe SCPs. Mostly climbing and wildlands navigation. If it's in the middle of nowhere and generally won't kill you, I'm the guy to clean its cage. 5(Purple) Any specific cases you're allowed to discuss? 4(Green) Let me see… I was running perimeter maintenance on 3847. A little creepy at times. Nothing like what you guys had. C1: Mission time 20:00, how far down are you, guys? 1(Blue) We are approaching platform 28. C1: Roger, we have established your average speed of descent, you should reach 50 in about 15 minutes. Since we've established baseline metrics, radio check frequency will now be 10 minutes. You can keep up chatter if you like. Guys, we're pretty deep now, I suggest focusing on our surroundings instead of small talk. From 30 onward we'll assume corner clearing formation. 2, you take left wall, I want light and barrel pointed at every new flight as we approach. I'll take frontal. From this point on, guns are hot, confirm? 2(Red) Roger. 3(Gold) Roger. 4(Green) Um, roger? 5(Purple) Okay. 1(Blue) Three and Five, stick behind us, you are on outlook. Four will watch our backs. 4(Green) If you say so, boss. 1(Blue) Let's pick up the pace a little, I'd like to hit 50 in 10. Team remains relatively quiet over the next few minutes. C1: Mission time 25:00, sitrep? 1(Blue) All clear. We're approaching 46. C1: Confirmed. 1(Blue) Team, slow down and keep quiet. We are approaching initial contact point. 5(Purple) Guys, I think at least one of us should have a calming agent, in case 087-1 turns out to cause psychosis on sight. 1(Blue) Give me the details, doc. What's the expected effect? 5(Purple) Well, depends. You can either have HHDR1, which will negate panic and phobia and will cause calmness, but won't negate depression, and might cause lethargy, or you can have HMDR9, which will negate phobia and depression, but might enhance panic or aggression. 1(Blue) Two, you are to take the calming agent. Five, you will also give Two the calming and aggressive agent. Two, your orders are, if the rest of us lose control, to inject us with whatever you deem appropriate on spot. 2(Red) Got it. 1(Blue) Also, put your weapon on safe. We don't want panic-induced automatic fire in a tight hallway, ricochets will shred us. 2(Red) Roger. 5(Purple) Ok, here goes. 77-2 uses the inhaler, provided by 77-5. 5(Purple) How do you feel? 2(Red) Fine. Doesn't seem to do anything. 5(Purple) The effect is not noticeable unless in a stressful situation. Trust me, it works. Here are the inhalers. Technically spraying the face could work, but for maximum effect, try to get it in the mouth. 4(Green) That's what she said… 3(Gold) Seriously, Four. 4(Green) Oh, come on doc, I had to! 1(Blue) Focus, guys. Two, sitrep. 2(Red) I'm fine. 1(Blue) Could you elaborate? 2(Red) Everything is cool. No problems. Safety engaged. I'll spray you with one of these if you start freaking out. 1(Blue) Okay. Team, ready for contact. Move. RTF-Gamma-77 proceeds at moderate pace down the stairwell. 1(Blue) Control, we're on platform 50. Peeking 51 in 10 seconds. With 77-2 keeping watch on the corner of the next flight, 77-1 pushes to the bottom of 50 and onto platform 51. 1(Blue) Clear. Proceed. 77-2 takes position on the outside wall of platform 51. 77-1 takes point and pushes down the stairs. Flood lamp illuminates a face at the bottom of the flight. 1(Blue) Contact! Nobody move. C1: Wilkins, team status. Silence. 2(Red) Wilkins, Control asked you a question. C1: Ling, team status. 2(Red) Team seems fine. Wilkins is being dumb. 5(Purple) Guys, let's get outta here! 4(Green) What are you looking at me for? 2(Red) Control asked you a question. 4(Green) No, they asked Wilkins. 3(Gold) What's happening? 2(Red) You are Wilkins. 4(Green) No, I'm Four. 2(Red) Four is a number. Your team code is Four, your color code is Green, and your name is Wilkins. C1: Ling, sitrep! Now! 2(Red) Contact with 087-1. The entity is static, staring at me. 3(Gold) It's staring at me, though! 5(Purple) Oh, god… 2(Red) Control, entity is capable of making eye contact with the entire team at once. Anomalous property, or suspected hallucination. C1: Team status! 2(Red) Ricks is on point, steady… 77-2's speech sounds mildly slurred. 2(Red) …keeping eye contact with 087-1. I am… fine. Nat and Rita are on the platform, seem quite disturbed. It's not that scary, it must be affecting them mentally. Besides that, they seem okay. Wilkins is on the previous flight, he's confused. Overall, we're fine. C1: …Ricks, sitrep! Silence. C1: Ling, initiate contact with Team Lead and assess his status. 1(Blue) Status is stable. Contact with entity. No action so far. Appears static. C1: Team lead, why didn't you respond to previous call? 1(Blue) I don't know what you're talking about, Control. C1: We asked you for sitrep. 1(Blue) On my end it sounded like you're asking Ling and Ricks. C1: 1, you are Ricks! 1(Blue) No, I'm One, you just called me that. 2(Red) Control, telepathic properties of 087-1 established. I alone appear immune. C1: Roger, Two. You are to immediately administer calming agent to One. Confirm? 2(Red) Yes… Confirmed… Control, I feel really light-headed. C1: Roger, Two, hurry and inject One ASAP. 2(Red) Sure, stand by… So tired… C2: Two, disregard last! Administer aggression agent to One! Not calming agent! Confirm! 2(Red) Alright, alright… Unintelligible arguing at Control. 77-2 approaches 77-1 and administers HMDR9 - aggression agent. C1: Ricks, respond! 1(Blue) Go for Ricks. C1: How do you feel? 1(Blue) What is this, a therapy session? I have a fucking floating head staring at me, how do you think I feel? C1: Assess condition of Two, please. 1(Blue) Ling is sitting on the stairs next to me. Seems fine. C1: What about the rest of the team? 1(Blue) As previous report, idle and useless. C1: Ricks, listen to me. 087-1 has telepathic and psychogenic properties. You need to end contact in some way and re-assess. 1(Blue) I'll re-assess its ass right now. Come here you ectoplasmic son of a bitch! 77-1 proceeds down the stairs. 087-1 suddenly jerks towards 77-1. 77-1 produces a shot from his firearm. The bullet seems ineffective against 087-1, hitting the wall behind it. However, soon after the shot 087-1 accelerates towards 77-1 and dissipates in the air before making physical contact. 5(Purple) What the hell just happened? 3(Gold) Well… we just got mind-fucked. Don't tell me it's your first time? 4(Green) Guys? 3(Gold) Everyone fall back and regroup on 51. One, two, how are you holding up? 1(Blue) My name is Ricks, for fuck sake! 3(Gold) Wait, wasn't Ricks that other guy. C1: Team, be advised, anomalous effects linger after contact. Please someone assess 77-2. 1(Blue) He's fucking sleeping, I don't believe this! 77-5 jumps from behind 77-3 and sprays 77-1's face. 77-1 points his gun at her. 1(Blue) What the fuck do you think you're doing, doc? 5(Purple) Relax, darling, you'll be fine soon. 1(Blue) Oh… so… the relaxing agent neutralizes the aggression agent? 5(Purple) Correct. 1(Blue) Did you… know that before you sprayed me? 5(Purple) Well, no, but you were going berserk, while your - and only other armed member of the team - is napping, so I had to try something, or else we lose both operational control and all the "muscle" at the same time. 1(Blue) Good thinking. You'll get a commendation for this. Now wake up Ling, please? 5(Purple) Who? 1(Blue) Sorry. Two. Wake up number two. 4(Green) We've got to go back… 1(Blue) What the hell are you talking about? 4(Green) We're clearly not equipped for this. First contact and we almost freaked out and died. 3(Gold) Kid, we made contact with a telepathic, psychogenic, possibly memetic entity, while on experimental drugs, armed with automatic weapons, in confined space, and we had zero casualties. Statistically, this is the best operation of my career so far. We're fine. 77-5 sprays 77-2 with aggression agent. 77-2 regains consciousness and takes a moment to compose himself. 77 proceeds down the staircase at moderate pace. Next half hour goes without incident. Vocalizations remain distant. 1(Blue) Control, we've reached the 89th landing. Confirmed visual on the hole. Video feed confirms a hole, seemingly identical to the one encountered by D-9884. Mission time is 01:08:00. Observe, take measurements, and proceed. Team shines lights down the hole. Perceived vision range remains consistent with the rest of the stairwell. No light is observed at the bottom of the hole. Green lasers seem unable to reach bottom or walls of the hole. Rangefinders report depth at about 4. 3 kilometers. 1(Blue) Four, how much rope do we have? 4(Green) About 1km of total length. 5(Purple) Control, if we lower the spectrograph along with the lasers 1km into the hole, won't you be able to construct an approximate model of the inside? C2: Seems possible. Good call, Campbell. 5(Purple) Who? 2(Red) Mate, are we the only ones who remember their names? 1(Blue) I suppose it has to do with the psycho… sprays, or whatever they're called. 5(Purple) But… my name is Purple, it has always been. C2: Ok, Purple, disregard this topic for now. You need to attach the spectrograph to the end of the rope, along with the lasers, pointing at random directions and at random angles. Once they are securely attached, lower the rope into the hole and start turning and swinging it, for maximum coverage. We'll let you know when we have sufficient data, shouldn't take longer than ten minutes. Team proceeds to build improvised spectrograph-laser beacon. 77-4 connects ropes for maximum length. 77-2 proceeds to lower the device in the hole. 5 minutes later maximum rope length is reached at roughly 990 meters from landing 89. Team starts swinging and rotating rope. Spectrograph data stream provides control with timed estimates of light waves, reflections and amplitude for each laser. Roughly 12 minutes later, a 75% complete estimate of the inside of the hole is modeled by mapping software. C1: 77, we have a rough map of the cave. It appears between 4 and 4. 5km deep, cylindrical-shaped with incline of about 10 degrees, bearing 229 when descending. 1(Blue) We have no compasses here, bearings aren't of much use. C1: The back wall of the landing you are currently on, if we assume the staircase is as straight as it appears, should be bearing 200-ish. Meaning the cave extends roughly 30 degrees to the front-right, when facing the wall. The entrance is not centered, you are closer to the slope. Also, not sure if this is a spatial anomaly, but the cave takes place where the rest of the stairwell should be. 4(Green) See, shoulda had an anchor… C1: The cave appears somewhat smooth, although not unnaturally so. The bottom, however, appears glass-smooth. Control suggests, if possible, examine this cave as part of secondary objective. Whether now or upon establishing of base is up to Team Leader, but remember - there might still be a girl in need of medical aid down there, so time is of the essence. Come on, guys, pull this thing up and prepare to move on. 5 minutes later the mapping device is extracted and disassembled, and 77 moves down the next flight of stairs. 1(Blue) Control, we have a problem. The stairs are gone.

Preston school of industry lyrics. I was riveted to this episode! Awesome videography and I love your casual conversation while relaying the history as well. Beautiful place. I hope they'll restore it to its former glory. Do you know what year the picture of the last youth (class) was taken? There definitely was no shortage of commodes in this place. And yes, I'd stay here overnight! Great work! Two enthusiastic thumbs up.

Preston school of industry abuse. Naturally im here after watching the movie apparition. 👻. Preston school of industry haunted. What have they done with the property. It could actually be a good movie. x. Perpetual dreams Deafening screams Dreams and knowledge perishing to A nonexisting existing state Viewing apparitions in unsightly [unsaintly] ways Need not hunger for the feast ablaze fell the end is coming near no the water brought us here I can hear the God's demand as I raise my burning hand the sign of Urth reached the suns thousands of souls will be as one years of darkness now have past Urth shall rule voice out of the dark in your mind voices from Zzooouhh past forgotten rebirth wall of graves the voices from Zzooouhh Band: Winter / Delirium Release: Into Darkness / Zzoouhh Year: 1990 Country: US / Netherlands Metal Archives: Winter / Delirium Stream: Winter / Delirium.

My first session my husbands session. part two Ive often wondered about the purpose of dreams. Are they meant to sort out our lives? To tease possible outcomes for the future? Or do they just conjure up impossible miracles that can not ever occur in the real world? When my husband and I found our way to a place where reality and imagination were indistinguishable, I thought at first it was a miracle. But one thing about your dreams, they can also transform into nightmares. A few short moments after confronting our host, my husband and I found ourselves facing a new terror. The scrawny Asian woman that had guided us here started to slowly fade into the wall as though she were merely an ornament of the resort. The same happened with the Jamaican man Stan had attacked, he too faded back into the walls of the resort as if he had never been there. Before either of us had a moment to comprehend what we had just seen, we heard a sudden rush of air flow through the resort and a beastly grow echo from every corner. “Theres something hunting us, ” I choked out as I grabbed my husbands arm. I didnt want to risk being away from his side again. “Lets get back to the dock and get the hell out of here, ” he said, turning to leave. He didn't meet my eyes, but I could feel from the arm I clung to that he was shaking with fear as well. But the door that had given us passageway to this supposed sanctum had now transformed into a wall of pure stone. The front door of Chimera was gone. We were trapped. “Fight your fears, free yourself from the regret you both are shackled to, ” a hollow, ghostly voice rhasped from everywhere around us. I felt my body tremble as I remembered the ghastly apparition that had resembled my father, the one I had seen in my room. This voice sounded disturbingly similar. “There must be another way out of here, come on! ” Stan said as we moved to the western corridor, and I could hear the panicked in his voice. The haunting imagery of the resort continued to shimmer and change with each passing step we took. One minute we were inside a beautiful hallway and the next it was shaping to appear like an open forest path, and then it was if we were suddenly walking through the den of a cave. “This must be a dream, Stan. It must be. Everything is so intangible… they must have drugged us, ” I mumbled anxiously. “I dont understand whatever twisted magic governs this place, and Im not sure that I want to know…” he admitted as he grabbed the side of the cave wall. “But I know that it feels real to me, and if it feels real, then whatever's chasing us will probably feel real too. We should keep moving. ” I could tell that Stan was different than he had been just a few hours ago. He wasn't as quiet and subdued as he had been, but there was also a hardness to his eyes I had never seen before. And try way he lost it and stabbed the host in the lobby… well, I could only imagine that he had gone through things as scarring as what I had seen. Farther ahead I saw running water, streams and rivers meeting together to form one massive spa. It looked like the water was flowing backward and up into a single foundation, another impossibility. And hanging near the center of it suspended from the ceiling by ropes around their necks, were two hollow figures that resembled Stan and I. They didnt have color or features besides the bare minimum to make them recognizable, just bland shells that seemed to be waiting for a spark of life. Any flicker of water would make them tremble and their lifeless eyes shake. Were these the replicas that Stan and I had dealt with earlier in the night, the ones that we watched die? And why were they kept here, wherever here was? Together we crept closer to the fountain, watching as the water cascaded over the top of the lifeless puppets and back down again. It was slowly eroding their features, leaving them faceless and null. A blank slate to be used again. Then, we heard a voice from behind us. “Your union was severed to show you a way to heal, and now, you must heal by showing your scars, ” the voice of a young child said. When I turned, I saw a little child that seemed to be no older than eight years old. It had no eyes or nose or mouth, and in some ways mimicked the shells we had just been staring at. I clutched my husbands hand and muttered, “I dont like this. I just want to leave. ” “If you refuse to face what you have done to one another, you will prove no different than all the others, ” the faceless child argued. It had no mouth and nothing in its face moved, and I had no idea how it was speaking. It gestured toward the pillars where our replicas were hanging, and we watched on in awe-struck horror as their skin melted away and drenched us. It was unsettling to see their bodies fade through our fingers and I wondered how many others had come here to Chimera Island and faced the same fate? It was something I didn't want to think about. It couldnt be as simple as telling Stan about those traumatic experiences I faced… could it? Maybe it was. One way or another, after what I had seen tonight, I was done keeping secrets from my husband. “Stan… theres something I've kept from you, ” I said as I touched his chest gently. That was when the ground started to rumble. We clung to each other for a moment as the small quake finished, and I looked around frantically to search for the faceless child. It had disappeared, but something far more fearsome now took its place. The large dark dog that had stalked me earlier in the night was now looming overhead, its jaws foaming and ready to tear us limb from limb. In the daylight I could clearly see that this beast was similar to the mythological Cerberus, with three massive, misshapen heads. Each of them seemed to have fiery red eyes and snarling nostrils that fumed with smoke. As as it approached, I found myself staring at the same reflective features of the demons I had confronted last night in one of the heads. This was an anthropomorphic nightmare of my abusive father, and for a brief terrifying moment, I found myself frozen in place, unable to look away. Stan clutched me and asked me what I saw in the other heads, yet their features were a blur. It reminded me of the faceless beings we often encounter in our dreams, things that we only half remember when we wake. Nothing was shaping together for me, and for some reason, this frightened me more. Suddenly, the earth split apart and I lost hold of my husband. I choked out a scream as I fell tumbling into the dark crevices of the earth below. I suddenly caught a glimpse of something liquid rushing up at me, and I held my breath and hit murky water. Above, the creature howled and leapt down in pursuit. I called out for Stanley, but there wasnt time. I had to run. Grabbing ahold of the walls in the darkness, I followed the caverns toward the depths of this maze, half tripping over myself in my panic to escape. Somehow, we would find a way out of here; I told myself. The only answer I had was the hound howling after me. The farther I went; the more I became disoriented. Not only by the darkness, but by the reverberations that cascaded through the tunnel. The whispers were trying to tell me something, but like the faces of the hound, they were only half formed. I could tell that they were voices, but the words and the pitch fluctuated and stretched beyond my hearing. I can't describe it any better, but it was a symphony of horror and I couldn't mute it out. I found my way to a large opening after what felt like an eternity of scrabbling around the dark and I paused for a moment, focusing fully on make sense of the ramblings of the whispers. “Marcia… Marcia… find what you have lost…” they echoed as I strained to see shadows dancing in the dim light. That just reinforced my suspicion that this was a dream. No one, not even Stan, knew my given name before I had it changed, the one my father had named me. Then, in a blink of an eye, the shadows formed something solid. I was looking at myself, I realized. But it wasnt any version of myself that I was familiar with. I saw Stanley there, holding a newborn, and smiling happily. My parents were chanting excitedly and the room filled with music. Parents that seemed… proud. Loving. My father was smiling, and there was no cruelty anywhere in his eyes. I realized with a shock that Chimera was showing me a happiness that I never got to experience, and it cut me like a knife. To see what could have been if my life had gone differently… it was worse than any other apparition I had encountered. After a moment of watching the apparitions with tearful eyes, I steeled myself and pushed past the shadows toward the next corridor, pushing apart rock and granite to find myself stumbling into the regal halls of the resort again. It took me a moment to get my bearings, but as I did, I found that the way I came was now gone as well, the passage sealed back up in a perfectly blank wall. What sort of madness were they hoping we would succumb to? What kind of twisted tricks were these? I stood up and called out to my husband, the whispers growing louder as I made my way back towards the main entrance and the lobby. “Accept your loss, be born again in grief, ” another voice whispered from just out of my right. It reminded me of the Asian woman we had met when first coming here. I turned a corner in the hall, and in front of me I saw my own body again, lying parallel to the door. I was naked, covered in a layer of sweat, and severely pregnant. This apparition cried out with birth pangs and it looked toward me, eyes desperate for help. Her eyes reflected all the pain I had felt over losing my own child, the child that Stan never knew I had carried for almost two months, and I found myself dropping to my knees next to her “Please… please, I dont want to experience this! Not like this! ” I screamed. I was hysterical, and I couldn't stop myself. But then, a soothing voice reached through the screams. Stanley was there, somehow, telling me, something trying to reach me. Then I felt his hand, soft and gentle, grip my shoulder reassuringly. “We have to confront this together, Maria. Its our only chance to ever heal, ” he told me softly. I realized then that he was guiding me toward my doppelganger, but I didn't protest. I knelt down next to her with Stanley standing protectively behind me, and I grasped her hand, feeling a surge of pain and grief that I had suppressed for years. “Its going to be okay… youre going to get through this, ” I told her. Her eyes were filled with tears and I heard Stanley whispering soft reassurances to me, but it felt like I was drowning. I wished I had him there with me when I had gone through this the first time. I wished I had the courage to tell him about my heartbreak and loss back when it first happened, but I had been a coward. He had said that he didn't want kids, so I had suffered through the loss of my unborn child in isolation. Would things have been different if I hadn't been alone? Would things be better if I had just told him the truth? The birth pangs got stronger and I watched as something emerged from the doppelgangers womb, as my replica went suddenly still. The newborn reminded me of a smaller version of the faceless child, its fangs gleaming in the blood of its own mother as it turned toward me and screamed. I stumbled backward as the dream fell apart, falling like dust in front of my eyes, and I found myself in the resort's hallway being rushed by the hound. Nothing had changed. Nothing could change. This was my torment. I needed to confront it. I found what little strength I had left and pushed the creature away, rushing toward the exit with a fervor I didnt know I had as its howls of pain and frustration chased after me. As the front doors opened, I found Stan waiting there for me, and he helped me from collapsing in defeat. I stumbled towards the floor, but he caught me and took the bulk of my weight on himself. I looked at him, into his eyes, and saw a haunting hollowness that hadn't ever been there before. Chimera was changing him, too. “We need to get out of this fucking place, before our memories consume us, ” I begged him, but I was weak and my voice came out as a whisper. Beyond us, I could see the cascading waves crash against the beach and a small boat offering escape. The moon shone down on us from a cloudless sky, and for a moment, I felt like we were maybe going to be okay after all. “We cant. Not yet. Theres something we have to do together, ” he said boldly as tears streamed down his face. I saw just past him the three headed monster that had pursued us all night, silently standing in the middle of the marble pathway that led down to the beach. Its faces were now becoming clear. And the path to escape was blocked until we confronted it, this amalgamation of our own torment. “Youre right… we should have always done this together, ” I told him, clutching his hand fearfully. I was standing on my own now, but feeling my husband's warm hand gripping onto mine gave me a surge of strength that I didn't know I had still had left in me. I didnt know what secrets the beast had left to show me about my husband, or even myself, but at that point I didnt care. I was ready for all these dreams, for the past, to die. Whatever it took. 330.

Previous update Index It was a cold morning in Elemira, though the sun still hung in the sky like a day lamp. People moved slowly through the streets, pulling their cloaks tighter as the chill in the air descended on them. Food merchants had swapped out cold products for hot foods and warmer drinks to compensate for the weather. Some of the Taverns in the lower districts already have smoke coming out of the top of the houses, as they kept their fireplaces lit to provide a warm haven for the people. City guards manned their stations, with a few of them never completing the full route of their checks. It was a cold day, a rarity during the summer season. In the castle, lounging on the throne, Xioden covered a yawn with his hand as another citizen stepped forward to put forth their request. He had chosen to begin the requests early on in the day to be able to relax at lunch before rejoining the rest of his council in rooting out the brand his father had used. Strangely enough, the more he thought about the brand, the more he couldnt stop thinking about the day his former home exploded. His memory was still hazy from the day, remembering nothing more than being pushed out of the window by the god. His mouth soured as if sucking on something bitter. He almost referred to Thanatos by his title, knowing how much his patron hated it. He glanced at the arm and the markings. For days now, save for the brief moments when it acted up, it had largely been lifeless. He could feel the power in the markings now, having practised with it a few times but to all intents and purposes, the power was inert. “My lord, ” a voice whispered in his ear. He shook his head, focusing his attention on the young man that stood at the foot of the stairs to the throne. Flanked by two guards, the young man knelt before him, bowing his head as he did so. Dirty blond hair covered his head and from the state of his clothes, he would have guessed that the man lived in the slums. “Your Majesty! My heart humbly bows before your throne, ” the young man said, his voice rough around the edges. Xioden tilted his head slightly, waving for the man to rise. As the mans head was bowed, the guards standing by helped him back to his feet. “You honour me with your words…” he began, raising his eyebrow at the man. “Tymoth, son of Haran, your majesty, ” the young man hastily added. “You honour me with your words, Tymoth, son of Haran, “ Xioden said with a nod, “How may the kingdom help? ” “In any way your majesty deems fit for us. There is suffering in the lower districts. We have no cure for ailments and resources are scarce. We can hardly survive outside the city or even in the small towns due to who we are and how we look, ” Tymoth said, emphasising what he wore. “And who are you? How do you think you look? ” Xioden asked. “Why, your majesty. I am a simple pauper. My father, Haran, was a fisherman for the former king. We fished from the South Sea and sold most of our gains to the city for profit. But your father would tax us more and more until my father passed away from working himself into debt, ” Tymoth replied. “And your mother? ” he asked. “She was a midwife before …” Tymoth stuttered, covering his face. Xioden could see a hint of shame on the young mans face even as his cheeks reddened. Tymoth broke eye contact, choosing to stare at the floor instead. “The oldest profession in the book then, I take it, ” he said in a low voice. Tymoth nodded profusely. “Does she still live? ” he asked. “I… I dont know, your majesty, ” Tymoth replied. Xioden stared at the man for a long while as he thought about what he could do for the man to brighten his day without going back into the nations treasury. At that very moment, he hoped Kana and Timon had set out on their way to Hanase to peddle some of the crystal light. After the first mistake that they had suffered through with the sanctuary priest, he had been more careful with the repeated test. Strangely enough, the same priest had offered his services. Xioden had thought to decline if not for the argument the man had put forward. “I am blind now, your majesty. No one that will be able to do it without being as fascinated as I was. ” And with that, still under close watch, the priest had produced a hundred shining crystals that glittered like lit lamps. The same hundred crystals were now in a chest with Lady Kana on its way to Hanase. Bringing himself back to the moment at hand, he leaned forward in his throne, staring down at Tymoth. “Do you know your fathers job? Did he ever teach you what to do and how to do it? ” he asked. The man perked up in slight excitement. “Aye, your majesty. It was how he chose to spend time with me, as opposed to reading as my younger siblings did. ” “Youve got younger siblings? Who takes care of them? ” he asked. “I do, your majesty. I am their only family left. I do my best to scrounge for them but its getting harder by the day, ” Tymoth replied, hanging his head. Xioden nodded, having made his decision. Looking to his left, just beside his throne, to the councillor that Kana had left behind to assist him. A councillor from House Claren, the young lady standing next to him looked older than her master. He couldnt quite say she was beautiful. She was a looker, that much he could admit, but she had a handsome face. Tall and slim, she wore her hair short like a soldiers haircut and the woman never seemed to smile at anything. Or frown, either. “Alys, how much gold do we have left for this mornings proceedings? ” he asked quietly. “About fifty, your majesty, ” Alys answered in a curt tone. Turning back to face the man, he spoke. “Young Tymoth, I believe a man like you, burdened with responsibilities, deserves a chance to make something real of themselves. Understandably, my father was a difficult king, a difficult ruler and an almost impossible-to-understand man. But I am not like him…” He looked at Alys who counted ten gold pieces from a small chest she held in her hand, after which she walked down the stairs to give it to the man. “You will buy a new set of fishing tools. I will also send a few of my men with you to the lower districts until you can put the money to good use, ” he said. The mans eyes lit up in gratitude and he fell to the floor once more. “You are far too kind, your majesty, ” Tymoth exclaimed. “I also plan to get some healers down there to take a look and to report to me how bad things are. If it is within my power, I plan to have a healing station to cater to your needs and not your wants, ” Xioden added, getting to his feet. “I thank you, King Xioden, ” Tymoth repeated as his guards gently led him out of the throne room. He watched the man leave before addressing the rest of the room. “To all of you that have come from far, I will do my best to see that your needs are met in a manner that satisfies the parties involved. But at the moment, I need a break, ” Xioden said before bowing ever so slightly. Sera walked around the castle with a few servants at her heels. The servants had been commissioned by Xioden to see to her every need, as well as the guards walking behind her. Gliding through the corridor in a long blue dress that rippled with the sun, she couldn't help but feel like she was already royalty. Twice already, some guards and servants had greeted her as such, curtsying deeply to her. It was a nice feeling, she admitted to herself as she continued down the corridor, but it was also one that she wasn't accustomed to. At least, not for years now since her family were exiled out of the city. She stopped, suppressing every thought of that particular memory. She had made a promise to herself to never address it. it was a blight that was going to remain as her blight as far as she was concerned. She glanced back at the guards escorting her, her eyes falling to the chest they carried between them. The chest had some of the light crystals that the sanctuary priest had created for them. Xioden had explained how he planned to transform Elemira with the crystals, ensuring that the city lit up no matter how dark it got. Somehow, she couldn't help but feel like his mysterious left arm had something to do with it. Nonetheless, she had offered her services in testing the light crystals in the castle before putting it in the city. After all, with the heads of House Claren and House Forthen on a diplomatic mission to Hanase and with the other lords embroiled in some studies in the royal library, she figured she could use the activity to win her some points with him. A separate victory that disregarded personal emotions. As such, her first task in the morning was locating where the king had stored some of the converted crystals. A relatively simple task that was completed relatively easily. For some reason, he had ensured that all the guards allowed her access to his chambers which made her slightly annoyed because of the implication it put in the heads of others. Still, the chest she was looking for was waiting for her at the foot of his bed. She stopped at the first lamppost in the castle, a small iron-wrought pillar at the end of the corridor and she opened it, removing the small ceramic basin that held a half-melted candle on it. Handing it to one of the servants next to her, a young girl named Tara, she waved the guards carrying the chest over. Sera took a deep breath, readying herself for the brilliance she was about to experience again, she opened the chest. As the lid slid to the back slowly, bright shine of light burst forth from the open seam. Gasps of wonder escaped the mouths of the servants standing next to her. Even the guards seemed enamoured by what was happening that they came closer to see. She opened the chest and numerous light crystals shone like brightly cut gems. Sapphire, ruby, emerald and even golden colours lit up the corridor as if to berate the sun for the poor job it was doing. She released a breath, suddenly aware that she had been holding it since she touched the chest. She chuckled at the foolishness of it all. It's like I'm a child once more, fascinated by the works of mages and tricksters. Gently, she picked one of the crystals that shone a bright yellow, similar to the sun. It felt warm to touch, like a kettle that had just been used to boil up some water. The crystal wasn't as big as the one Xioden had given to her to inspect on the first day, but it was still sizable enough. "Please clean the basin, Tara. she said, her voice strangely a little bit higher than a whisper. The young girl holding the ceramic plate with the candle continued to stare at the crystals, alternating her attention between what Sera was holding and what was in the chest. Sera smiled before clearing her throat and repeating her words. Tara jerked, snapping out of her trance. "Yes, m'lady. she hastily said. Sera simply smiled wider and inclined her head. She watched as the woman broke off the remaining candlestick from the plate, before using a small flat metal to scrape out the remaining wax from the plate. Once the plate was cleaned, Sera took the plate back from her and placed the light crystal on it. Then, she got back to her feet and returned the ceramic basin into the lamp holder. As she stepped away from it, she couldn't help but marvel at the brilliance of it all. When she questioned him on how he came about the idea, he had shared an odd look with Lord Kattus, before replying to her. He had mentioned something about trying to capture the sun in a portable device of sorts, one that never went out. And this had been the idea. Not that she believed him, of course. After all, reading people is a favourite past-time of hers and the look the two men had shared was shouting loud enough for her to not hear anything else he tried to explain regarding it. And you're still going to tell me, Nafri prince. Don't think I'm letting this go. She shook herself, forcing herself to breathe once more before turning her attention to the servants and guards. "Are you all just going to stand in awe of our new lamps? Or can we install the rest around the castle. she said, raising her voice to cut through the trance holding them captive. All of them jerked upright before curtsying and assaulting her with a barrage of apologies. She smiled a little before turning on the spot. She couldn't allow them to see how taken with the crystals she was getting. She couldn't wait until she could ferret the reasons why out of Xioden. And she knew just how to do it. Kattus woke up to darkness. And then voices. And then one voice, cutting through the darkness. "Help him, Kattus. He's in danger. the voice said. It sounded like a whisper and yet, it drowned out the sound of the other voices. "What. he found himself asking. He brought a hand to his mouth, unsure of whether or not he had spoken the words himself. He touched smooth skin where his mouth should have been and he tried to scream in horror. "Save him, Kattus! Help him! Help him. the voice repeated, sounding more desperate. Suddenly, he felt hands grab onto his legs and arms. Being in the dark, he couldn't see who or what held on to him but they all pulled him from different directions. A cacophony of voices shouted and cried around him. They all repeated the same as the mysterious voice. Soon, he felt like he was swarmed by hands in the dark, everywhere and all clawing at him. Pain flared from his face as nails dug into flesh and ripped it open. He felt a wetness on his cheek and then, teeth on his neck. He tried to shout from the pain as the teeth bit hard on him and breaking through his skin. The hands holding him pulled harder until he felt his bones pop out of his socket. And then, like a speck of light in the dark, he watched as the light expanded until it formed a cruel-looking skull face. Then, the face began to cackle. Kattus snapped awake, sitting up on the bed. Sweat rolled from his head and he looked around the room in confusion. His head darted from side to side until it settled on a long sword just lying next to him. He reached for it, unsheathing the blade and coming out from under the covers. Sun streaked through the window and for a few seconds, he waited where he stood. The blade was raised, readying himself to attack whatever came at him. His breathing was erratic and his heart pounded in his chest. He felt constrained and the air in the room felt stuffy. He waited for a few more moments, straining his ears to listen for any movement before finally relaxing. The blade was beginning to drop when he heard a movement next to him, just underneath the covers. The sword shot back up and he turned to face the bed, with the blade pointing towards the mould under the covers. Just as he was about to plunge his knife into the bed, a head protruded from under the covers and he stopped, frowning. Then, he sighed and chuckled, allowing the sword to drop to the floor. The chuckle turned into a small laugh as he became aware of his nakedness. He slipped back under the covers, turning his body to face that of the sleeping woman next to him. She was facing his direction, though her eyes were still closed. Her chest rose and rhythmically and he found himself smiling as he looked at her. Mara was an attractive woman. Far more attractive than he gave her credit for, especially after they had both discarded their clothes as they shared their passionate kiss. Still, he hadn't expected the night to end the way it had but deep down, he didn't regret the ending he got. She wasn't quite like the women who walked the streets but she had given him far more than he knew what to do with. Makes sense that she should still be asleep after all the excitement of the night. His plan after leaving the library was to get the reports from the daily checks from his men as to if any of them had found anything worth discussing with the king. It was then he noticed her walking towards the district gates and he offered to escort her home. During the journey, they had laughed and joked about life and the work they shared and one thing led to another. I'm now naked under her bed. Xioden's going to scold me if he finds out why I'm missing this morning. His smile widened and he tried to draw nearer to her when he saw something behind her. Like as if the dust in the air solidified. In a second, it was just him and Mara on the bed. In another, a grey-skinned man was towering above them. He pulled her close to him hastily even as the body vanished into thin air. "Kattus. he heard her say groggily as she pushed against his chest. "I'm here, Mara. Forgive me but I'll have to leave you. he said, still keeping his eyes on the spot behind her. "It's okay. I'm going to sleep some more and then head to the library after. I'll see you there. she said, yawning and escaping his clutches. She turned away from him and soon enough, he could hear her snoring lightly. He got up from the bed once more, locating his clothes and dressing back up. Periodically, he glanced at the woman and the spot behind her, waiting for the apparition to reappear but he had a feeling that it wasn't going to happen like that. Needless to say, the dream that he had almost pushed aside returned afresh and he shivered from the memory of it. If the king was in trouble, then he had to find out why and how to stop it however he could. Yet, he couldn't decide if it was something he had to tell Xioden or figure out by himself. As he tied his sword belt back on, he gave Mara's sleeping body one last look before exiting the room and the house. Back in the street, the smells of food wafted through the street and his stomach grumbled in response. People streamed back and forth on the road, occasionally moving aside for carriages of merchants and guard escorts. Shops lined the sides of the streets with some of the sellers raising their voices to attract buyers to their stores. Kattus observed his surroundings, trying to place where he was. Picking out a familiar landmark, a rooster with an egg atop it, he walked towards it briskly. The landmark was a tavern that he used to frequent in his early years. He hadn't been there in a long while but seeing it told him he was in the eighth district of the city. Positioning himself right, he reasoned out the way to the main road that led up the districts and back up to the castle. Once he was sure of his path, he resumed walking, speeding up his pace. He wanted to reach Xioden as fast as he could. He didn't think the dream meant an imminent danger to the king but he couldn't bear to think about the possibility. It would be a tragic fate to reach the castle only to find out that his king is dead. Next update: Here.

“Piper Martin…I havent heard that name in years…” The woman who had graciously invited me into her home mused while pouring a glass of tea. She tucked her long black hair behind her ear. Remnants of an accent shed tried for years to shed gave certain words an almost otherworldly quality. “How did you find out about her? As far as I know Im the only one who knows the truth behind those missing person posters. ” “Lets just say I have insider-knowledge. ” I answered as she took a seat across from me. She locked eyes with me and held the gaze for a long few seconds. Malalai Jones. Formerly Malalai Ahmed. Her stunning caramel colored skin was draped in a white sundress. Her home was modest, but furnished with costly items. The coffee table between us was silver-trimmed glass, and the chairs we sat upon were white leather and quite angular. It was obvious they were built for eye candy rather than comfort. Hung above the extinguished fireplace to my right was a large family portrait showing Malalai standing lovingly next to a tall, clean cut man with two little boys in front of them. “It was 1998 when my family moved to America. I was 17 at the time, and even though September 11th was still a few years away, it wasnt the easiest thing in the world for an Afghan to integrate. I didnt make friends well, Mr. Collins. People werent really hateful, but most were put off by my hijab and quiet demeanor. Then I met Piper. ” The beautiful woman spoke while pointing her striking dark eyes into her tea as she reminisced. “So you met at school? ” I asked. “Thats right. She was a grade ahead of me…a senior. She was an outcast in her own right, but instead of feeling the self pity that I did, Piper embraced it. From her black clothing and numerous bracelets to her wild, multicolored hair, she was comfortable in her own skin. I was envious of Piper from the start. I wanted to wear the thick eyeliner, and I wanted to wear those black tank tops, boldly expose my shoulders and proclaim to the world that ‘I am me! See me. ” She raised a fist halfheartedly and followed it by rolling her eyes and scoffing. She then continued. “Stupid, I know, but thats how repressed teen girls think. At least how this one did. My envy turned to admiration almost instantly. Ill never forget the first time I made eye contact with Piper. She smiled at me a genuine, judgement-free smile. We quickly became friends once she initiated contact. She had a car, and such a free spirit. I yearned to be like Piper, and she eagerly accepted me. You could say she took me under her wing, I suppose. In no time at all shed convinced me to cast off my hijab, and relinquish the strict Muslim constraints Id been raised in. Rebelling against my parents was thrilling. Riding along in her convertible with my hair flowing in the the first time I FELT American. I felt the freedom Id been denied for my entire life. “I guess it was a combination of those things, my rebellion, admiration for her, and keenness to experience new things that led to my willingness to accept her beliefs. She wasnt Satanic, or a Wiccan, or anything like that exactly. But she did have an obsession with the occult. Piper strongly believed in ghosts, and the supernatural, and often became fixated on particularly barbarous crimes. ‘Such savagery makes spirits linger… she would say, and shed say it in an almost loving way. There was one such crime that she was particularly infatuated with. Earlier in the decade a girl around our age had been slain in such a horrific way that Piper was certain her spirit lingered in the place. Piper told me that shed known of the girl from school, but not personally as the girl was a few years ahead of her. But she knew her name was Lydia. Lydia had been working at a diner with her boyfr-” I interrupted her. “Im already aware of what happened to Lydia Derringer. ” I shuddered and another long look was shared between us. “I see. Okay. ” She said solemnly. “I guess you want to know about that night. The night we broke in. I snuck out of my parents home and met up with Piper who was waiting in her car at the end of my street. I threw my headdress in the back seat and changed into a pair of her black clothing that shed always had waiting for me as we drove. Piper was so determined to contact the ‘other side, and I was more than happy to humor my friend, even though I was sure nothing would come of it. The thrill of committing a crime was enough to persuade me to her cause. I noticed the backpack in the backseat, and asked her what it was about. She explained that she had read up on how to summon the dead, and supplies were needed. To our surprise, our ‘B and E turned out to be only an ‘E, as we found the front door unlocked. I think I was more disappointed than Piper that we didnt get to use our amateur lock pick kit…” Malalai chuckled and then her demeanor changed. She shifted in her seat and took on a more defensive posture before continuing. “That place was creepy. I remember not being able to take my eyes off of the weird doll in the glass case. As soon as we stepped foot inside, a wave of something washed over me. I wanted to leave. The place had a bad vibe. Piper didnt share my concern, however, and she homed her flashlight in on the female restroom. I didnt think much about it at the time, but I assume she was drawn there, as it was not the location of the murder that she was obsessed with. I wish so much now that I had listened to my gut and grabbed my friend and dragged her out of that evil place…but that isnt what happened. I followed Piper, as Id become accustomed to. “I watched her slowly move between the three stalls, examining them wordlessly, back and forth, back and forth…until she stopped and whispered ‘yes…I can feel them. So, so many. Cmon! She then placed the tail of her flashlight into her mouth, flung her backpack from her shoulder, and knelt on the tile of the floor. She unzipped it and carefully produced a clear mason jar, and between her light and my own, I saw that it held a dark, crimson tinged liquid. I moved closer, and knelt beside her. ‘What is that, Pipes? I asked in my best whisper, but my voice was shaking. Piper popped the flashlight out of her mouth and flicked it off. ‘Dog blood. she answered, placing the flashlight into her bag and pulling back a long, black candle. I proclaimed my disgust with a forced gag, but she paid no mind, and pulled a lighter from her pocket and began rapidly striking it. “Once it was lit, she touched it to the candles wick, and the room took on an orange glow. She handed me the torch and I did away with my own flashlight. ‘We need it for the ritual. She said unscrewing the jars lid. I told her that I didnt even want to know how shed gotten her hands on dog blood. She giggled as she dipped her first two fingers into the thick liquid, and began painting a circle on the white tile, encircling us. She dropped her fingers back into the jar and drew a star inside of the circle. I recognized the pentagram, and again wanted to stop her, but again stayed silent. She stood and held out her hand requesting the candle. I placed it in her wanting palm, careful of the blood that still dripped from her fingertips. I stood as well, and followed her gaze into the mirror before us. Piper held the candle below her chin, and softly asked, ‘Do you see it too? ” Malalai brought a hand up to her cheek to catch the single tear that was trailing down it. Her bloodshot eyes were distant. “I did see it. In the looking us in the center stall was the figure. The amber light of the candle flickered over a young girl dressed in white; black, wet hair matted to her cheeks and shoulders. Her mouth was moving but there was no sound. When I was learning English, I tended to watch the mouths of the actors in movies, watch the lips of my instructors as they enunciated. This habit follows me to this day, just as it did that night in the restroom of Slappys. ‘Mommy, why…Mommy…why… The child was mouthing over, and over, and over… “I was paralyzed. Unlike Piper, I hadnt expected anything paranormal, yet there I was, faced with such a mind-bending apparition. There was fear, make no mistake, but the overwhelming emotion was one of sadness. The lost soul seemed unaware that we were there, and was silently calling out without malice. But then came the whistling. It was a low, out of tune sound, like the scratch of chalk against metal. Piper and I jerked our heads toward the restroom entrance, toward the source of the awful noise. Stood just inside of the doorway was the silhouette of a man, and as our dim light fluttered over his form, we saw that he was tall, dressed as an employee. He was scruffy and looked at us with his bulbous eyes in a way that was…it was…” She struggled to find the right word, rolling an open hand in the air in front of her. “Dopey…” I offered. “Right. Dopey. He stopped whistling and a stupid smile crossed his lips. You know, he kind of looked like that burglar in the movie with the kid stuck at home by himself…” She clapped her open palms to her cheeks and mock screamed. I nodded my understanding of her adorable display. “The tall one. Anyway, he says to us, ‘All of that is bullshit, you know… gesturing to our dramatic ritual. Then, he turned his back to us and muttered something about how he was going to have to clean up the mess as he walked away. “I turned back to face Piper to urge her to leave. Her hands were shaking, causing the candles light to dance erratically, and her shallow breaths were accompanied by  almost imperceptible whimpers. Her eyes werent on me, but rather theyd returned to the mirror. Slowly I turned my own into the reflection. The girl was still there, her lips still forming soundless words…but she was no longer alone. Above her, clinging to the white tiled wall was an unholy abomination. It resembled a flayed human, shiny red blood coated its form and white muscles bulged as it was slinking down from a torn, blood stained ceiling panel. It was coming down head first, its fingertips pulling it along the wall, down toward the unaware little girl. It had crawled halfway down the wall when suddenly the things head flicked to focus on us, and its lidless eyes gazed upon us with a fury Id never seen before. Piper seemed frozen in place, unable to tear her eyes from the visage in the mirror, but I whirled around to look into the stall, foolishly hoping that it was all a game, a prank being pulled on us…I hoped that what was happening in the mirror wasnt playing out in reality. I was wrong. The wet girl wasnt there, but the puddle where she stood was…and so was the monster crawling down the wall, its head unnaturally contorted to maintain its lock on us. Its jaw then unhinged, swaying as it spoke. ‘Mommys here. A guttural growl resonated through the small room. “That was all I could take. I ran. I left Piper there, and bolted out the door as she called after me, begging me not to leave her before her shrieks filled the air. The dopey man was stood outside of the room with a mop bucket ready and his words…‘Where you going? …followed me as I sped through the dining room. I pushed open the front door and didnt stop running until I got home. ” Malalai finished, wiping the heavy flow of tears out of her eyes with a tissue she plucked from a box sitting on the table between us. She took a long moment to regain her composure. “You never told anyone what happened to Piper Martin? ” I asked. “No. I thought about it when I saw her dad posting up those ‘MISSING fliers. And I thought about it when the school had a counselor speak at an assembly about how running away from home was never the answer. Pipers mom had died when she was little, but her dad had to live out the rest of his life not knowing what had happened to his daughter. I rationalized it internally that no one would believe me even if I had said something, and that worked until I heard that Mr. Martin died a few years after Piper disappeared. The guilt has eaten me up inside ever since. ” She glanced up at the portrait hanging over the fireplace. “Especially now that I can put myself into Mr. Martins shoes. ” “Thank you for agreeing to meet with me, miss Jones. ” I said. She returned her watery eyes to me. “When you contacted me about Piper I thought I was in trouble. That the past had finally caught up with me. Thank you for allowing me an opportunity to tell my story, and not for thinking of me as crazy. ” She said as she stood, offering me her right hand before sheepishly withdrawing it. “You shouldnt feel crazy, miss Jones. You saved yourself, and Im glad you made it out. ” I used my cane to support my weight as I lifted myself from the seat before tucking it into the crook of my elbow. I then presented Malalai with my left hand. The only hand I had left. “Im glad you did, too. ” She said as she clasped both hands around mine. I stood there in the kitchen dumbfounded, holding my phone in my hand trying to wrap my mind around everything that was happening to me. My mind spun as the buzzing lights above me droned on. I was hypnotized, half by my phones screen slowly fading to black, and half by the nearly headless being still wandering the kitchen, vile meat still dripping from his open crevice of a mouth. “You know, Id kill to have this opportunity. ” An unseen womans voice came from behind me. I turned to see nothing, but heard the rustling of papers coming from the dining room. “Whos there! ” I shouted, pocketing my useless phone. “I didnt say ‘knock-knock. ” The voice playfully teased. I slowly put one foot in front of the other, easing back toward the dining room door. “Never was one for jokes. I did write a lot of poetry back in school, though. Try this one…‘little orphan Jack, came to a diner but not for a snack…” I peered around the corner and saw a pair of black and white skateboard shoes were propped on one of the tables. They were attached to a pair of black distressed jeans that were sitting in the booth. The jeans belonged to a skinny girl whos face was obscured by a pamphlet of papers she held in her pale, slim fingers, each of which were tipped with a shiny, black-coated fingernail. “... he a writer, or was he a hack…” She continued as I crossed the room toward her, noticing the absence of both Lydia and the boy. “Either way hes slipped through a crack, and Rob in the end, will take it all back! ” She finished, lowering the pamphlet to the table, revealing her face. She was smiling devilishly, running her pink tongue along the front of her upper teeth. Her face was as pale as her hands, making the dark eyeliner stand out harshly, but drawing attention to her bright gray eyes. Her mad curls sprung from her head like fountains, cascading down her naked shoulders in a psychedelic waterfall. The pinks and greens and blues and reds contrasted with the solid black tank top she wore. “What did you think? ” she taunted. “Who are you? Do you know how to get out of here? ” I asked the girl. “So you didnt like my poem? ” She said and made a pouting face as I felt each of my wrists grabbed from behind. My legs were kicked from behind sending them sprawling out before me, and my ass hit the floor hard. An additional hand was then placed firmly on each of my shoulders. “That there is pretty Piper…you shouldnt make her mad. ” Came a breathy voice right next to my right ear. My eyes were drawn to the source of the wet words and I recognized the man holding half of me down as the dopey looking cook. He was still wearing that stupid paper hat, too. I looked to my other side to see Dopeys left hand counterpart was none other than Wally, still looking as vacant as ever. “Thank you for the introduction, Clem. ” Piper said as she stood, finally giving Dopey a name. She sauntered forward until she stood over me. The pamphlet dangled between her fingertips, and swayed back and forth in front of me like a pendulum. My heart sank when I recognized the stack of divorce papers. No wonder I couldnt find them before. “What…what do you want? ” I asked, trying to tune out Clems mouth breathing on my right. “This! ” The girl snarled, and threw the papers in my face. Instinctively, I lunged to dodge them unsuccessfully, and my movement was met by Clem quickly releasing my wrist and dropping a knee into my palm. His newly free hand moved like lightning, pressing the blade of a long cooking knife into my throat. His warning was clear, and I stilled myself while Piper continued. “Why do you get to have your revenge? Why not me? ” She spat as she stomped one of her skate shoes onto the floor, the sound reverberated through the dining room. She then began frustratedly pacing around a small radius in front of us. “Revenge…? ” I choked out, painfully aware that the sharp blade still pressed into my neck just below my chin. “Ive been trapped here for years, dreaming of getting back at that bitch…she ran you know. Left me here to that skinless FREAK! ” She yelled toward the entrance to the bathrooms. “Piper! ” Clem hissed. “Maddox! ” “I dont care. He knows how I feel about his little pet. And he KNOWS how bad I want Malalai fucking Ahmed to set foot in here! ” Suddenly, Piper stopped pacing. “Why should we keep listening to some voice. Whats he going to do, kill us again? ” The trio was silenced when the jukebox in the corner of the room whirred to life. No sound came from it…but the neon yellow and red lights cast an angry hue over Pipers face. “We dont go against Maddox. ” Wally whispered slowly. He seemed to be struggling with his jaw. “Ray got banished to the freezer when he started trouble. The place he died. Where do you think youd get stuck, Pipes? ” Clem added. “Fuck Ray, prick got what he deserved, and he should consider himself lucky…Ill kill the bastard any chance I get. ” Pipers face contorted as the colors flitted across it. Her expression went from enraged to disdained. I found myself feeling pity for the black clad young woman. She dripped with teenage angst, and I was starting to understand that she would be stuck with that trait forever, because just like me, those people…those shadows of what used to be people, were trapped in that place too. I saw that I had an opening, a chance to take control of the conversation while Piper was directing her contempt toward the jukebox. “I dont want revenge…” I said as calmly as possible. Piper slowly turned her eyes back toward me, the yellow and red lights shifted to only one cheek, giving her an unsettling look of duality. One side of her face was pale, white, cold…the other fiery. She crossed her arms defiantly. “Is that so? ” She asked extending her hand toward Clem, demanding the knife. There was great relief to feel the blades pressure removed from my neck, but as soon as I saw it glistening in the unstable girls hand, warm shades twirling in the silver of the saber. She squatted in front of me, slowly wagging the knife inches from my face. “Why not? She hurt you, didnt she…” “Its not that simple. ” I stammered. “Yeah, she cheated on me, okay? But that isnt the end of the world…Im angry with her, sure, but I dont hate Katie. ” “So you love her. ” Piper reveled in the melodrama. “I dont know. She was my wife. She isnt who she was when we met, but that person, those memories we shared…what she did doesnt take those moments away. People change, and sometimes it hurts those around them, but thats life. You ask me if I love her, but that really doesnt matter. She doesnt love me, and thats okay. She doesnt deserve to hurt because of it. ” My words were honest, and surprised me. Being confronted like that, my feelings dragged out and laid bare…it felt cathartic, despite the bizarre circumstances that Id found myself in, my words rang true internally, and I felt a sympathy for Katie Id been denying myself. “you really believe that, dont you…” Piper spoke lowly, and a tear streamed down her pallid cheek from her piercing gray eye. I nodded. “Well, if you feel you have no betrayal to avenge, you can share in mine. You can wear my heartache with me. Hold his arm. ” She told the mouth-breather to my right, and he did just that. Clem grasped my wrist tightly, and pulled it until it was outstretched before me. “Hey, hey hey hey, no…dont! ” I protested as Piper rolled my sleeve to my elbow. “Piper! ” Wally chimed in as the mad woman pressed the sharp point of the knife into the tender underside of my forearm near my wrist. “Fret not, Dear Wally…I wont kill him. My little scratches wont affect Robs plan, and thats all Maddox cares about. Besides, Im an expert…” Piper chirped, and turned her free hands wrist toward me. Many light-colored scars ran over her own forearm like railroad tracks. Her “scratches” began, and were more like gashes. My screams fell on deaf ears as Piper carved the first letter into my flesh. “M”. I cried for reprieve as she etched the following marks into my arm. I watched my own warm blood trickle down as she gleefully went about her task. Painfully written on my skin were three more letters…lowercase “a a a”. I struggled but told myself not to fight, as I had little doubt that Piper in her fit of anger would have little qualm with driving that sharp blade into my heart, regardless of what other spirit it may piss off. Between each of the scarlet triple as, she laid the blades edge on my skin, and with a harsh jerk left a slash representing the lowercase letters “l”. The word she was carving, the name of her betrayer “M-a-l-a-l-a…” was coming together. My lesions oozed thick, red blood, and the taste of sickness began to coat the roof of my mouth. My head felt light, and I knew I was on the verge of fainting, but willed myself not to. I refused to reenter the hellscape that was Fisher Pines deranged mind. “Please…stop…” I breathed weakly. “One letter left…” She whispered through gritted teeth. She looked into my wet eyes and ran the edge near the crook of my elbow before jabbing the knifes point into the soft, vulnerable meat just above the new line successfully dotting the newly incised “i”. The knife clattered to the ground and Piper admired her work. I did my very best to control my breathing and maintain consciousness. Sounds of jazzy trombones suddenly filled the air, first emanating solely from the glowing jukebox, and then mixed with saxophone notes that abruptly began to pour from the speakers. This symphony apparently signaled something to the trio, as Piper delicately placed a hand on my cheek. “You may not care about revenge, Jack…” She spoke softly and gently stroked my cheek with her palm. “But try to focus on how she wronged you. It may make things easier. ” She gave me a final unsettling smile as she stood and slowly started to back away from me, disintegrating with each step until she vanished before my very eyes.   Her sentries evaporated as well, and suddenly I was alone again, dizzy, and bleeding heavily from my wounded arm. I attempted to stand, knowing that I needed to tend to the cuts, and despite being extremely lightheaded, managed to succeed. “Youve seen better days, eh Jack? ” The silky smooth voice of Spencer Maddox pierced the music spewing from the speakers. “Why are you doing this to me? ” I shouted back, clutching my injured forearm. The small puddle of my own blood hungrily collected each of the garnet droplets that continued trickling to the floor. “Oh, Id be more worried about that bleeding…” Maddox laughed as I shimmied myself into the booth Piper had been sitting in when I first spied her. I used my left hand to yank napkin after napkin from the metal dispenser, using each of the white squares to cover a portion of my wounds. The first few layers bloomed into roses as the blood pressed back against them, but eventually, as more and more were added to the area, the flow yielded to the makeshift paper bandage. I sighed and laid my head back on the cushion of my seat. “Im sorry that happened, mister…” A childish voice spoke. I raised my head to see that the voice did indeed belong to a child. The sandy haired boy with the Raphael shirt, was sitting across the blood drizzled table from me. “No Lydia this time, kid? ” I asked sardonically. I was exhausted, trying to recover, and was in no mood for more ghosts no matter how unthreatening they seemed. “Shes around. Shes afraid of Piper. Piper really doesn't like Lydia. Piper doesnt really like anyone, though. ” The boy said in a voice that only an innocent child can produce. “Let me ask you something, kid…are you a ghost? ” I asked smirking at the boy as if we were conspiring together. “I guess so…but I dont feel like a ghost. ” The boy said after thinking on my inquiry for a moment. “So if you, and Lydia, and Piper are ghosts, why would one of you be afraid of another? Ghosts cant die, right? ” I pointed out. The boy seemed to be attempting to work out my logic, but then gave up before telling me his throat was sore. “Its complicated. ” Another voice chimed in from near the register. I turned to see Lydia approaching. “We can still feel everything. Pain…emotion…and we can even die, but it isnt exactly permanent. ” She said as she took a seat next to the boy. He snuggled up to her. She pulled a roll of tape from an apron pocket and gestured for me to present my wounded, napkin covered arm. Reluctantly, I did so. She continued talking as she wrapped the tape over my faux bandages. “None of us know how it works, really. No one is sure why some of us are able to materialize during the day…like Wally and me…or why some of us are forever stuck in limbo like the ones we call Residuals…” She said as she tore the tape and flourished her hands. “Voila! ” “Residual hauntings…” I mused as I waved my right arm, testing the improvised binding. “Mhm. Best I can figure is thats why we cant leave. Were haunting this place, too. Makes for a pretty dysfunctional family, though. ” Lydia said propping her elbow on the table and resting her chin on the heel of her palm. “His neck hurts. It lingers from how he died. I still feel the burns on my face. Piper, she was flayed, so shes in constant pain, and that may have driven her more than just a little crazy. She came looking for me that night, so in a way she blames me for-” She rambled before I interrupted. “Am I dead? ” I asked callously. “What? ” She responded, looking surprised by the question. “You said ghosts cant leave…I cant get out that door without stepping foot back into this godforsaken place…am I a ghost? ” I sounded angrier than I meant to, but I was agitated at how I was being forced to question not only my grasp on reality, but my very state of being. “No Jack. Youre alive. You cant leave because Maddox doesnt want you to. ” Lydia said. “Why not? ” I shot back. We dont tell each other everything! ” She said a bit defensively. “And who exactly is Maddox? ” I asked, raising my tone a hair. “No one knows that, mister. ” The sandy haired boy spoke up. “He was here before Lydia came and started keeping me away from my step-dad. ” “Jimmys right. Maddox was here before any of us…” Through the window I saw headlights turn the corner into the parking lot. “Come on, Jimmy, we have to go. ” Lydia said, her tone abruptly changing to a hurried fear. The two immediately began fading. “Wait! ” I said just as she and the child washed-out completely. I raised my uninjured arm to shield my eyes from the headlights as the SUV pulled into the parking spot next to the gigantic tree. I didnt recognize the white vehicle, but I did recognize the redhead that stepped out of the passenger side as my soon to be ex-wife, Katie. She glanced over at my car and seemed to be conversing with her vehicles driver. Seeing the pony-tailed woman for the first time in months filled me with all manner of emotions. I felt a full spectrum, but the one that jumped to the forefront was relief. Maybe…maybe when she opened that door I would be able to leave. I jumped up, still feeling lightheaded but not caring in the least, scrambled to grab the blood-dotted divorce pamphlet that had skidded along the checkered floor after Piper had shoved them in my face and rushed to the glass door to await her approach. “Well, look at that, Jack. Nice car. She seems to be doing well for herself huh? And do you spy what I do? ” Spencer Maddox whispered through the speakers. As Katie cautiously moved closer to the restaurant, I saw what the horrid voice was referring to. She wasnt far along, but Katies athletic frame did nothing to hide the fact that she was pregnant. My heart sank. Wed had the conversation countless times, and shed always told me she didnt want kids…it seemed she meant she didnt want them with me. “Let her come, Jack…” Maddoxs words caressed my wounded pride as she stepped onto the sidewalk and began squinting at the window to my right. The same one Id peeked into the first time Id gone to Slappys. “She cant see you. There will be no record of the call from your phone…Let her come. Open the door for her, Jack. ” I felt the same rush of dopamine and adrenalin that I felt while I inhabited Fisher and my eyes turned first to the stained stack of divorce papers and then to the knife Piper had dropped onto the floor. “Ill take care of the guy in the car…Katie is all yours. Lets do it together, Jack…” Maddox savored every word he spoke. If I could have seen his mouth I imagine it would be watering. I silently watched Katie as she sought a better vantage and moved to the door. She stood inches from me, but a world away. She placed her cupped hands against the door, and pressed her freckled face against her palms. She stared right at me…right through me. “Open it…” Maddox urged. “Go fuck yourself. ” I said as I looked into the distant eyes of the woman Id married. “Im not going to hurt her. ” “Oh, Jack-y boy…” The speaker boxs words were coated with disappointment. It followed by abruptly switching to that hideous mimic of my voice… “You already have. ” My peripheral vision registered movement to my right…Katies left… “NO! Run, Katie! Go! ” I screamed, banging the heel of my fists against the glass door, the papers I still held flapped frantically as my hand connected repeatedly.   My cries, along with the thunderous beating on the glass door, went unheard. Katie continued to look through me, mesmerized by something she was seeing…perhaps the shadows Id been captivated by when I stood on the other side of the glass. She was completely unaware that the statue of Slappy had pulled its feet free of the bolts that held it, and was lurching toward her, its psychotic smile gleaming in the moonlight. Her driver, though, a man Id never seen but assumed to be Travis, did notice. However he appeared as useless as I was, as the moment he stepped from the SUV he was confronted with his own horror. The figure that dropped from the tree was difficult to make out in the starlight. Its neck was bent, likely a remnant from a hanging as evidenced by the sudden stop just before it hit the ground and the long rope that connected it to the great wooden monolith. The thing swayed back and forth as Travis fell to the hard asphalt. I couldnt hear anything outside of the diner, but the way he threw his hands in front of his face, I assume he was screaming. Katie didnt react, she only continued to stare into the building as the slow moving statue closed the gap toward her. All the while I was screaming and punching the glass of the door. It was torturous to see the cracks from my blows spiderweb out only to repair themselves before the next blow landed. My eyes were pouring tears, and my knuckles bruised and swelled, yet I persisted in my fruitless task. It was all I could do besides watch. The Tree Creatures rope slacked, and it fell to the ground a few feet from the terrified Travis. It jerked its disjointed head toward the fallen man, and scurried toward him on all fours. I saw its hollow eye sockets look skyward as it overtook Travis, climbing on top of him with its appendage-less limbs before viciously sinking its teeth into the flailing mans neck. A blaze then ignited around the two, engulfing them. The rope around the monsters neck pulled taught again and dragged the flaming duo back into a hanging position where they continued to burn. The statue was nearly on Katie, its arms were outstretched and it marched on slowly, merely feet away from her. It was a last ditch effort, but my panicked rationale told me that I could at least offer some protection if I pulled her inside of the eatery. I grabbed the handle and yanked the door open, the jingle of the bell went off, and was followed by the cynical laughter of Spencer Maddox. I stood there in the doorway, staring stupidly…into the diner. I slammed the door closed and the view outside continued, the statue had moved ever closer toward Katie. I repeatedly pulled the door open and slammed it closed, and was greeted over and over by the changing scene. I screamed, both enraged and terrified. That constant ring as the door opened and closed seared into my mind. Each time I pulled it open, the entrance of Slappys. Every time I pushed it closed, the golem was closer to Katie. Then, after slamming the door one last time, the statue was on her. Katie seemed to snap out of her stupor a second too late. Her eyes widened just as the Slappy statue wrapped its hands around her neck. She tried to fight back, grabbing the things thick wrists. It turned its horrifying smile toward me as it lifted her kicking feet off of the ground by her throat and held her there. I threw myself into the glass door and collapsed, sliding down the glass as my legs crumbled beneath me. “Katie! ” I cried, as I watched her movements slow as the life was choked out of her. Her hands released their grip on the monsters forearms and fell. They dangled limply at her sides. I pressed the pamphlet of papers against the glass. “Im sorry Kate, I signed the papers. I signed the papers…Im so sorry. ” I spoke through my tears. The automaton dropped her lifeless body just in front of the door and began slowly marching back to its perch. I couldnt bear to look at her. I rolled my back to the door and curled my body into the fetal position while I cried. “Jack…” Maddox said through the speaker. “I dont want you to worry about the baby. Do you know how many women miscarry doing everyday activities and never even know it? It could be when theyre out for a run, shopping…even eating at a restaurant. ” He said chillingly, and suddenly the dining room was filled with the high-pitched crying of hundreds of babies. I watched as dozens upon dozens of fetuses in various states of development unraveled from the ceiling. They jerked to a stop much like the creature in the tree, and dangled from long, pink, fleshy tubes. The forest of unborn around me screeched and cried, some of the more developed fetuses moved their arms or legs as they spun slowly, shrieking the way that only babies can… “And Ill tell you, Jack, the only thing that tastes better than veal…is meat seasoned with madness…” My screams were drowned out by the droning caw of those that never lived, and never died. Painto Presents.

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Men aren't supposed to cry. It's a good thing it was raining. I sat in silence as I watched them put my wife in the ground. Sealed forever from the world in a white wooden box. The culmination of her entire life, her entire being and the memories and relationships she forged all amounted to that—a white wooden box. The world ripped my heart out and buried it with my only love. I haven't recovered. Holder of the heart, goddess of love, come back to me. Everybody was there to offer me their sympathy, their support and condolences—for a time. But the world moved on, spinning on a set string of chains with no time to lament the past. They all forgot. Her memory was left rotting in the dirt where only the worms toiled. But her memory never left me. It remained permanently pinned to my mind—every day of every hour, a constant reminder of everything that used to be. Our house remained as it did on that fateful day when I drove her to the emergency room. The linen sheets still crinkled and hanging off the edge of the bed—the pillows wearing indents of our heads. At times, on days where her face stung holes in my chest, I could smell the vaguest of fragrances lingering in the air to remind me of what I'd lost. "I know what you're feeling. my mother once told me. "These things, they take time to get over. It's your responsibility to keep her memory close, and if you do, she's never truly gone. Sweet little words full of nothing. "Keeping on like this will tear you apart. What was left for me to lose? My world had already been torn asunder and scattered like ash. "You have to put these things behind you before you can take a step forward. She grabbed ahold of the linen sheets as if she meant to rip them from the bed—as if she meant to defile the very memory she spoke of preserving! My insides trembled as an eruption of emotion clawed up my throat. I screamed at my mother, I shouted and shrieked. A shaking hand was raised high up, prepared to descend against the blood of my blood—but I caught myself at the last moment. I asked her to leave. She did, but not before promising to get me help. I didn't need help, I needed somebody to understand, not just say they did. Everywhere I went, people regarded me with pity. All it took was a glance at my disheveled, degrading figure for them to be reminded of the tragedy that had befallen me, and for just a fleeting moment they would remember her. But never for more than a moment. Blood of my blood, flesh of my flesh, come back and revel in the place that has forgotten you. On nights where the shadows lurked with faint hints of remembrance, there were times I could hear her—words spoken by the brightest burning star of my past. They filled me with warmth and feeling. I'd remember her voice, soft and gentle—perfect in every way. And her hair! Brilliant and radiating an angelic glow that belonged not of this world. Burning star who illuminates the void, shower upon me your brilliance. The nights were long and cold. I prayed for her spirit to warm me and I cried when it didn't. But sometimes, when the moon was full and glimmering with such a red intensity that it could break the barriers that separate heaven and hell, I could feel her brush against me. I could feel the shape of her body as if it were there, every curve, every sharp elbow, every single strand of hair… Red star who burns the darkness, Red star who holds the key to eternity. There were no such things as good days. There were only stretches of time, sometimes only moments, where I could say I was truly part of this world. The rest of the time I languished in the agony of the past. Slipping and falling, I disconnected from reality further and further. My soul wondered among the shifting ghosts, reaching out but never able to touch them. Then the Red star reached out for me. Oh most cherished of the cherished, breathe into me life and the warmth of your being. Oh Red star, keeper of the forgotten, release one soul unto me. My love, I ache to hold you in my arms. My love. I need you. Unable to bear the growling, snarling ache in my chest any longer, I resolved to meet my love in endless rest. The barrel of a gun pressed against my temple, sending chills coursing up my spine. One little pull of the trigger and it would be over. I was working up the courage when the moon shook and cast its angry glow through the windows. The dirty, unwashed dishes reflected the crimson moonbeams and fought off the darkness. The warmth that succeeded it caused me to reel back in shock. How long had it been since I had felt such a feeling? My heart stirred, nerves and arteries twitching and writhing as my whole being was overcome by the emotion. She descended from the moon, riding its beams to appear before me. "Laura. I squeaked at the apparition. My dear, sweet Laura. A smile that would thaw the arctic spread over her pale face. "Hello, my love. My knees wobbled as the bones turned traitor and dropped me to the floor. Tears streaked my cheeks and glistened against her paleness. "Oh my, you've come back to me. In the nonexistent wind her white dress rustled—the same white dress I buried her in. Her white hands reached out to me, palms open, and I took them, timidly at first for fear that I'd wake up. Those hands were so white and pale that I thought my fingers would pass right through, but the contact was real. I could feel her! I could truly feel her—from the gentle pulse to the warm blood that flowed beneath the skin. Through incoherent sobs and mumbles, I managed to ask, How. She answered with a giggle that soothed my aching ears. "You never forgot me, not when everybody else did. I buried my head in her stomach and sobbed. I clutched her dress so tightly that I must've been hurting her, but she bore it without complaint and stroked my head. The questions that should've run through my head were silenced by the overload of emotion. I do not claim to be a rational thinker, rather I am one of instinct—but there was something, however small, that nagged at the back of my mind and kept my instincts razor sharp. She started tugging at my hands ever so slightly. Such a gentle touch. "Stay with me. I begged through glossy eyes. "I can't stay long. she whispered with a sudden pained expression. "Come with me, come away from this pain and longing. Be with me. I would have followed my dear Laura anywhere had it not been for that stubborn feeling in my gut. How often had I dreamed about the moment where Id be reunited with my Laura? Here she was, standing before me and yet… "Where? Where have you have to be? Why can't you stay with me. The moon's glow was beginning to dim—it wouldn't be long before it's war with dawn was lost. I glanced up at my wifes face. Her features creased into a worried look—suddenly her flawless radiance wasn't looking so perfect anymore. I could see her gaining years of age in seconds, each one taking her further and further from the image of youthful beauty I had created in my head. "Please, come with me. she begged with a strain in her voice. "Before the sun comes. I wanted too. God did I want too! I looked out the window. There was no moon nor sun nor any stars save for one, so bright and red beyond comprehension. It peered at me from the void, boring deep into my soul and beckoning me towards it. The fabric of reality was but a thin veil, shimmering and cracking as the voids darkness attempted to snare me. Glistening streams poured down my wifes pale cheeks. "Be with me. she pleaded one last time. My head shook and I pried my fingers away from her trembling grasp. I lost a part of myself with each finger freed. Laura's image shuddered as she buried her head in her hands. The red glow flared around me and the Red Stars gaze turned from one of love to malice, and the warmth it emanated soon turned to searing heat. One star became two, and they grew larger and more vibrant as they snaked towards me. It's presence circled me, emitting a pure dread that threatened to choke me. The walls of the world shimmered as it slithered forward—a serpent from the void. Those red eyes peeled my mind, unfolding the layers of my existence piece by piece. Memories— my memories —dissolved, lost to the void. Screams, Im not sure if they were mine or the Serpents, permeated every molecule of every atom, reverberating in an endless symphony of anguish. It was taking the only things that kept me real. "I'm sorry. Laura whimpered behind the Serpent. "It's just so cold, and your light was the only one I could reach. The serpent let out a hiss that shattered my eardrums. Hot, red crimson streaked from my ears as my vision began to blacken. "I thought that if you came with me, I could finally be free of the dark. Free of the cold. The Serpent coiled around me. My bones screamed in protest as the pressure stole the air from my lungs. Oh Red Star, Serpent of the Void, steal the warmth and open a path to this world. My jaw clenched so tightly my teeth creaked, threatening to shatter—but I held on. I reached for the Serpents body and I dug my nails in. Those Red Stars it viewed the world through burned into my retinas. They showed me false promises, false hopes, false things I wanted so bad to be true. But beyond the lies it forced me to witness, there was a depth of unfathomable proportions—a void so deep and ancient that its a wonder it didnt break my sanity then and there. Perhaps my sanity was no longer mine to lose. I know not what force kept me anchored in reality, but it gave me the strength to reject the Serpents call. With bulging tendons and a feeling that my neck might break I forced my gaze away from it's burning eyes. It hissed and thrashed, clawing at realities walls as they closed in on it. Laura and I exchanged one final glance. "I'm sorry. she said. Turning away from her was the most challenging thing I've ever had to do. A part of me screamed to reach out and hold onto her, reasoning that if I didnt let go then I could save her. I wanted too. I truly did, but in the end I stayed my shaking hand. The Serpent let out a roar that reached not my ears but the essence of my entire being as the walls of my mind went back up. The world, my world, came rushing back with the bluntness of a steel rod. Laura faded away. Her screams joined with the Serpents as I tore from its clutches. The better part of a day passed while I laid on the floor, curled in on myself wailing throat tearing cries. brightest burning forevermore. I burned everything—all the sweet-smelling linen sheets, all the photographs with her smiling face—everything. I watched as the smoldering flames tasted the edges of these good things before consuming them with the fervor of a starved hound. In the fires I cast the tattered remnants of my soul. I wont allow it to use my Laura to reach me—I dont think I could resist it a second time. I love her so much, but everyday I force her memory further and further to the deepest recesses of my mind. Happy days are replaced by the Serpents parasitic presence, lingering and sowing dread into my synapses. I have seen the end of this reality and what lies beyond—where we are going and what awaits. There is nothing but darkness. There is nothing but the cold. There is only the Serpent and the Red Star. There is only the Void. Oh Red Star, Serpent of the Void, you are eternal, you are endless, you are inevitable.

I never ever want to say I miss that place because it's tortured and hell I rather be free than miss that junk I have fought just to survive or you'll be a lava or get drop I never allow that to happen to me I stand tall just to proof myself till the day I got parole and never look back at that junk. Preston School of industry report. The best movie trailer. Good job... Preston school of industry california. Preston school of industry amador california. Preston school of industry ghost. 6:56 that was a laugh. Preston school of industry ione california. I've been needing a scary movie like this! This is all in all a great movie. I felt like the whole movie I couldn't take my eyes away. I recommend this highly.

Preston school of industry reformatory at ione california. Preston school of industry ca. Preston school of industry apparition. Preston school of industry line it up. This interview is great. I see that that's just a trash can may become a meme. This film took a real event in history and distorted and changed it to fit their own agenda. To claim it was based on true events is grasping at straws. Also, their take on Preston's history is blatantly sensationalized. Anna Corbin was a real person, her murder was brutal and the man who killed her got away with it. The Superintendent or "Warden" did not kill Anna Corbin, it was a ward, Eugene Monroe, from the school who had been suspected of killing another young woman in 1947, then in 1950 Anna was murdered while he was at Preston on cleaning detail just yards away from Anna's office. Although he was acquitted, he went on to murder again, this time in Tulsa, the victim being a pregnant dance instructor. He went to prison for 29 years for that crime. The filmmakers had no right to take Anna's story and change it, or to make her out to be a vindictive ghost when that is not the case. They have dishonored the dead who walked the halls of Preston. Just like in the movie the Conjuring, the name and story of a defenseless woman has been sullied and slandered with no way to speak for herself to tell the world that their telling of her story is false. This is not a true story, this is a work of complete fiction and slander.

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21:15 -  21:19 On the right side of the window (from the middle and below) appears like a shadow with bright eyes. Maybe it's my imagination but can you please check it out. Preston school of industry history. Preston school of industry tours. Preston school of industry trailer. Preston school of industry book. Hi Steve, i am new to your channel but i am quite interested in the SCD-2 App but i don't know if it requires anything special to play the sounds of the ghosts? i mean does it require the wonderbox to be abæe to hear the spirits, or just something with a speaker / headphones? and does it require a mic to let the spirits speak into the SCD-2 App? Thank you for what you're doing, i have the utmost respect for you and what you're doing. Cheers from Denmark.

Preston school of industry paranormal. This was a really smart and scary movie that my friends and I enjoyed. Definitely going to be seeing it again with my other friends. There were a few jump scares that had me jumpin, but what really had me on the edge of my seat was the plot. Great work. I just love this beautiful band. I was very surprised by their varied albums.

 

 

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