EvantheNerd83's Storytime

Yearly Story Indexes

2020 (Part 1 and Part 2)

2021

2022

2023

2024

2025

2026

Shared Universes

Alpha Universe

Cursed World Problems

Future World

Magical Apocalypse

Project Autopsy

Static Saga

The Chronicles of Fiction

The Midnight-Verse

Witches & Wizards

Story Series

A Conspiracy Theory

Blackout

Case Files

Cold Floors

Lunar Romance

Project Alice

The Childhood Duology

The Marvin Missions

The Room

The Stray Trilogy

Trumpets (CANCELLED)

United Snakes of America

Underopia

Yandere

Poem Series

“ACCIDENTS HAPPEN.”

I

“I can’t take this anymore.”

Holly tore free the katana. “What?”

Blood splattered her. She licked it up.

Then turned towards the demon.

“What?” 

The demon pinched the bridge of Its nose. Its tail rattled.

Taking a deep breath, It looked at Holly. Really looked at her. And It said what needed to be said. 

“Can’t you just… not? For a little while?”

Holly stomped the nerd’s head in. Crunch. Shards of skull bounced off the pavement. 

Gloopy brains stuck to the bottom of her shoe. She scraped it off. 

“You know I can’t.”

The demon glanced around. 

Two other people were present. Other nerds in costumes that vaguely resembled anime characters. 

They leaned forward, kept up by the katanas shoved through their eye sockets. 

“Right.”

“I’ll tell you something though. I’ve never had so much fun.”

“Wh-what? Why?”

Holly spun around, skirt fluttering. It ignored the pale thighs and flash of white fabric. 

A smile spread blood red lips.

“You kidding? That was like some old Japanese samurai movie! Did you see when I kicked myself off the wall and slid?!”

It had. 

Rain coated every surface. The building, the ground. 

They were soaked. Through their clothes and into their bones. 

Holly’s uniform clung to her. Thankfully the vest was brown or else… It’d be able to see…

… It blushed. 

Droplets ran down her legs, glistening. 

She skipped over towards It. 

Squeak.

Squeak.

Squeak.

Her shoes squished and squashed, overburdened. Her feet were positively drowning.

“Y-yeah,” the demon tried not to stare. 

She twirled the stolen katana. Blood splattered Its cheek. 

That brought on a shudder. 

It wiped it off with a thumb. “How did you do that, anyhow?”

“Do what?”

“That kicking move. And all those hops. Did you take, like, karate or somethin’?”

Holly shrugged. 

“Nah. But I did play with my cousins as a kid.”

“You have cousins?”

“Uh huh.” 

She began to inspect the blade. Perfect tamahagane. 

“Boy this sword’s neat. I’m gonna be keeping this!”

The demon watched as she stared at her own reflection. Stuck out her tongue, winked her one good eye. 

She giggled. Sickly sweet. 

It didn’t understand. How could a girl this cute be so…

… cruel? 

Sadistic?

Naturally-born psychopathic? 

Usually this much instability was caused by mistreatment, abuse. Not passed on through genetics. 

“What’s your family like?”

Holly smiled at herself. 

“Ordinary.”

The demon could hear sirens approaching. Uh oh.

“Ever been to a therapist?”

Holly picked a piece of lettuce off a tooth.

“Nope.”

The sirens were getting closer. 

“What happened to you?”

Holly pulled a funny face.

“Absolutely nothing.”

It yawned. 

It stared across the street. Eying store fronts and names. 

“Can we go now? Police are coming.”

“And?”

“It’s getting pretty late.”

She looked up. 

“So?”

It turned. “Holly, seriously.”

She finally noticed the sirens. Her brow furrowed.

But the smile never left. It stayed. 

Plastered. 

“What’s wrong, Dem? It past your bedtime or somethin’?”

Its eye twitched. 

Unbelievable. 

Even after slaughtering a bookstore full of people, plus three delulu vigilantes, she still had the energy. 

The need. Desire. Hunger for screams and violence and blood. 

Lights bounced off the buildings. Red and blue. Tires screeched to a stop. 

The demon stepped back. It knelt behind a dumpster, slid out of the backpack straps. 

Placed the backpack on the ground. 

Laid Its head. 

“Good night.”

Holly snickered, a rattlesnake hissing. 

“Oh Dem.”

She assumed the stance. Angling the sword horizontally.

Car doors opened. 

“The night’s still young.”

Thirty minutes later.

“Oh god, it’s so warm!”

The demon unplugged Its ears. 

It stared up at the night sky. Counted down from five.

From somewhere close by:

“Oh #$@& yes, stain me harder!”

Sounds of rustling fabric. Giggling. 

Gasping. 

“OH YE—”

The demon plugged Its ears again.

Five seconds later.

The demon unplugged Its ears. Once again.

Heavy breathing. Satisfied. Drained.

Whimpering.

“Can I come out now?”

No reply. Just the breathing. Fabric rustled again. Weak footsteps on wet pavement, cement. 

“Ye… yes.”

The demon blinked. Thought about going back to sleep.

Thought better of it.

And It sat up, peering around the dumpster. 

Holly stood at the alleyway’s opening. A cop’s hat askew on her head. The katana dripped, dripped, dripped. 

She tilted her head back. Took another breath.

“God, I need a smoke.”

The demon stood up. Slipped the backpack on. 

It walked over to her. Keeping a safe distance. 

“You need help.”

“So you say, Dem.”

It circled around. 

It faced her.

Holly lowered her head, eye glazed over. She twitched once.

She caught It staring. 

“What?”

“...”

“What is it?”

It licked Its lips. Forked tongue flicked the air. 

“Holly…”

“Spit it out, Dem.”

“... How about a bet?”

She blinked.

A bet.

She shifted from one foot to the other. 

“Go on.”

It thought carefully.

Real carefully. 

“Holly, I bet… you can’t go the rest of the night, starting now, without killing.”

Silence.

Other than the police siren calling out. Uselessly.

Nobody was coming to help. They’d learned. 

She stared at It.

It stared at her.

“#$@&ing…”

She stepped forward. 

“... what?”

It didn’t budge.

“Right now. Till morning. No killing, no robbing, no tossing babies into cotton candy machines.”

The predator crept into her lone good eye.

It watched the demon, growled. Got ready to pounce. 

She didn’t blink.

The demon held Its ground. No sense running. 

Whatever she did to It. They both knew it wouldn’t be permanent. 

Regeneration. Nothing outside of an Angel’s blessed weapon could kill It. Anything else simply hurt.

Hurt like Hell.

“If I entertain this… farce, what’s in it for me?”

“I’ll let you…”

Oh shit. 

Now what?

She’d taken the bait. The carrot had to come next.

It racked Its brain for something. Anything. 

But what could Holly want? Outside of getting blood-bukkaked. And reaping the souls of innocents.

Holly watched It.

“... uh, I’ll let youuuuuuu…”

She smirked.

She knew.

It swallowed what pride It had left. 

“... I’ll let you…”

It sighed.

“... take it out on me.”

Her smirk fell.

“What?”

“All that fricked up energy? You can unleash it. On me.”

Her one good eye widened.

The predator within backed off. 

She swallowed. Arched an eyebrow.

“Dem…”

It cut her off.

“Do whatever you want. Stab me. Beat me up. Fr-fricking… shoot me in the nuts with a rocket launcher. Whatever. Just…”

It ran a hand through Its hair.

Avoided her gaze.

“... give me a break. Please?”

It didn’t see her face.

Her head shaking subtly.

“Dem… I…”

Empathy got chloroformed. From behind.

Multiple hands pulled it away. The console remained unmanned…

… for a microsecond before Sadism grabbed the joystick, fingered the buttons.

She blinked.

Smirked.

Giggled.

“... #$@& it.”

The demon looked at her.

She extended a hand. 

“You’ve got yourself a deal, mother#$@&er.”

For a moment, It felt something.

An omen.

As if something terrible might happen. 

Then again, something terrible was always happening.

It ignored Its common sense.

Grabbed her hand.

Shook.

“Deal.”

And made a deal with the Devil.

II

Holly let go.

Then realized what she’d just done.

The rest of the night. 

Until sunrise. 

No more blood. 

She gasped. Glared at the demon, who stood with a smirk. 

“You…”

It raised both hands. “Hey, don’t blame the sin. Blame the sinner.”

“I think it goes, ‘hate the sin, love the sinner.’”

It blinked.

“It does?”

Oh #$@& this.

She walked forward. 

Passed It. Her one good eye scanned the street.

Nobody else was around. The police cruiser still wailed for attention. 

She scoffed. What a whore. At least she just took it, like a boss ass bitch.

The demon stood on Its tippie-toes. 

“What do we do?”

“I’m thinking.”

They had to rest somewhere. 

They could do a classic B and E, deal with the occupants. Good ol’ Goldilocks. 

She needed to shower. Really badly. It’d been days since the last one.

Her uniform was starting to reek. And not just from the blood. 

Either a house or a hotel. A motel ideally. Somewhere better than convenience store restrooms.

Or under a pile of leaves. 

Or a pile of corpses.

She opened her mouth. Thought.

“Hey, you still got that map?”

The demon nodded.

It reached into Its pocket. Out came a crumpled up ball. Paper crinkled.

Tossed it underhanded. She caught the ball, began unfolding it. 

“Let’s see if I can find a place to stay.”

The map showed many places. Icons were listed along a key near the bottom. 

Restaurants. Stores. A bunch of cities and towns. 

Where were they currently?

She didn’t know. That stuff never mattered. 

“Hm.”

A nice sounding hotel. 

National parks. Space Center Houston. 

Aquariums. Caverns. Even the Alamo. 

She paced. 

“Hm.”

The demon tilted Its head. “Well?”

Holly looked up from the map. 

“I’ve got no clue.”

A tumbleweed rolled between them.

She turned around. “Let’s walk.”

They did.

For what felt like hours. 

Side by side, so close as to touch. 

Holly turned the map upside down. Rightside up.

She squinted at it. Pressed her nose right up to it. Growled. 

“What the #$@& is Texas?! A maze?!”

The demon stood on Its tippie-toes. 

Or what passed for tippie-toes on hooves. It peered over her shoulder.

“You sure you’re reading that right?”

She shot It a glare. “Shut up or I’ll shove it down your throat.”

It backed off. Raised both hands in supplication. 

She looked back at the map. 

Without knowing their location, this was hopeless. She hadn’t been paying attention. 

Hard to do that while lost in blood lust. 

And the road signs? Ha. Good luck trying to read them with all those bullet holes. 

Texans loved their guns. They shot at everything that moved. Even stuff that didn’t. 

She huffed. 

Animals. 

“Holly, hold on!”

She didn’t. 

“What?”

The demon knelt. “Gotta tie my shoes.”

She stopped a few feet up the sidewalk. 

It made an X. Carefully.

Next It wrapped the top lace under the bottom one. Pulled through.

Wind blew. A haphazard finger slipped errant curls behind one ear. A sigh. 

“Almost done?”

The demon looped one end of shoelace. “Almost. Give me a sec.”

Holly mentally flipped It off.

Such a dork. Goofball. 

Mama’s boy. Pacifist. That was the worst part, in her unbiased opinion, about It. 

How It hated violence. Feared bloodshed. Cowered from evil. How Hell could’ve created a well-mannered, empathetic violence demon… 

… she shut her eye.

Tight. 

“Do I have to leave you behind?”

Frantic hoofsteps. “No! No! I’m coming!”

“That’s what she said.”

She giggled at the image fading into existence. The demon blushing.

Oh. Too easy. 

Had to hand it to Lilah, the demon was the perfect victim. 

Holly’s eye snapped wide. 

She resumed walking. 

It kept pace with her. Like an eager little puppy that’d been kicked one too many times. 

A bitter taste on her tongue. Victim. 

The word didn’t taste the same. Not when assigned to It. 

The demon wasn’t her victim. Right? 

It was her friend. Well, her accomplice. 

She took in her surroundings. 

Darkness surrounded them. Only a few streetlights broke up the shadows. 

Only their footsteps offered a beat. 

Texas was the opposite of NYC. Not as loud. Definitely not as busy.

At least it slept. 

Holly could remember. She remembered—

An engine roaring past. Streaking metal. 

“Lookin’ good, princess!”

A boy’s voice microseconds later. 

He was leaning out a window, hair flying free. Going faster than sound.

The car went along its way. 

Holly stopped. 

“Asshole,” she flipped it off. 

The demon clucked. “Sexists.”

She searched her pockets. Brought out a Desert Eagle.

Aimed it at the distant speck getting even more distant. 

She squinted. 

“Bet I can hit the limp dick pussy loser in the passenger’s seat from here.”

The demon crossed Its arms. 

“Hoollllyyyy…”

She heard it. Disapproval. Disappointment. 

Turned to glare.

“What?”

It shook Its head. 

Confused mingled with anger. She barely held their offspring back.

“What?”

“Remember?”

“Remember wha—”

Then she did.

She did remember.

“Oh. Right.”

It arched an eyebrow. “The deal.”

“The deal.”

Right. 

Shit.

Holly instantly deflated. A balloon losing all steam. Her one good eye dulled. 

“Clamjammer.”

“Sadist.”

They stood there. Facing each other, each holding their ground. 

Another gust of wind blew another tumbleweed across the street.

Holly blinked first. 

“Fine,” she sighed. “But you owe me one headshot.”

It shrugged. 

“Whatever. Just put that thing down. Before you shoot somebody’s eye out.”

She scoffed. Twirling the Desert Eagle around a finger. 

“As if I’m not a model gun owner. These animals—”

Screeching tires.

Muffled yelling. Screaming.

They both looked down the street.

Wham!

They both winced as the car hit the telephone pole. 

Crickets chirped. 

They both waited. For someone to begin screaming again. This time, from pain. 

Or beg. 

But nobody did. Silence reigned over the crash. 

Holly felt heat on the back of her neck. Sizzling. 

She spun on her heels. The demon stared at her, eyes wide in shock. 

It blinked. 

It pointed.

“Hey,” she shrugged nonchalantly. “Car crash. Happens all the time.”

She resumed walking. 

“You sure?”

Froze. 

“What?”

“Check your ammo.”

She ground her teeth. 

Then removed the magazine. Turning it over, she found the witness holes, counted. 

“Yep.”

She returned the magazine. 

“A full house.”

Resumed walking again. 

The demon didn’t follow. 

It felt the omen again. Something terrible had happened. 

People had died. Probably. 

From where It stood, It couldn’t see any bodies hanging out of the car. 

But surely… 

… at that speed? 

Surely.

It shivered. 

Wrapped both arms around Itself. Glanced back.

For just a split second, It’d felt something standing behind It. Not someone. 

Something. 

“Dem! Keep up!”

“R-right,” It shook that thought away. “C-coming.”

Little things just didn’t add up.

Her collar would be wrongly buttoned. Her eyeshadow smudged.

The misplaced smell of ego. Perfume. She would be heavy with it.

Smothered by it.

He swallowed. But the vomit crept back up.

Late. She’d be late coming home.

And drunk. Hammered. Sloshed.

There was always the look too. Glimmering eyes.

Full with guilt.

Jesus Christ.

How could he be so blind? So stupid?

He ground teeth into dust. Traced their living room again and again.

Watched the clock. Hours came, went. Was she coming now?

Blood boiled.

Hate. Oh, such sweet hatred.

It flooded every nerve. Every cell. His eyes wandered toward the kitchen.

The knives moaned his name.

Flash Fiction

The Realization: It kills love.

He saw them. Like clockwork, pattern.

Faces hovering over his. Moons against night. Pale, sickly, gaunt.

They came melting free of the silky darkness, his history teacher, mother, sister, mailman, dentist, the cheerful neighbor, that rude teenage cashier.

They stared down. Smiling. Winking. Knowing themselves of some great prank. A future tragedy. Torture.

We find them all the time.

Fishing around here is dangerous. Doesn’t matter how big or small your boat is. 

Whatever will find you. The keel looks suspicious. When viewed from below, in the water.

Like how surfers look like seals. To sharks.

Certain areas of the cove are off-limits. Police say it’s due to rocks. But rocks simply gash. 

They can’t leave behind—

The water is always so clear. Sparkling even. 

You can see straight to the bottom. Or close to the bottom, anyway. It’s dark at the bottom.

We could be drifting for a while. Then blam! Something hits our boat. And always darts away.

Back into the darkness.

The depths.

Faster than we can look. 

But when we reach the dock? 

When we pull our boats onto shore?

They are there.

Handprints.

Eternity.mp4 is an infamous video reportedly found in 2015. 

The person who filmed it remains unidentified. Where it was shot proves equally as difficult to ascertain.

Those who have watched it describe it as such:

A first-person view of an alleyway. The buildings are so tall, the sky can’t be seen. 

Trash cans and shadows. Cracked cobblestones. Someone holds the camera at an angle. 

They are running. Our view keeps jostling. But it remains focused straight ahead. 

Always ahead. 

Darkness looms ahead. 

This person never breathes. No soundtrack either. Only their footsteps forever echoing.

Eternity.mp4 has garnered significant controversy for its length. If previewed, no duration will be displayed. Nor will its file size appear.

The longest anyone has watched it was 24 hours, 59 minutes, and 59 seconds. 

What happened to this individual is unknown. 

What waits at the end of the alley is unknown.

Jerry could swear. It happened. Not all the time, of course. Only when he was alone. In his room. In the living room. Bathroom. Shower. Only when no one else was around. 

That kicked him in the teeth. Nobody else heard the sound. Just him. A little squeak. Or a squelch. His eyes would wander the topography of his own flesh suit. Seeking imperfections.

The loose screw. Off-color patch of skin. Why else would it sound so inhuman? So metallic? 

Echoing from his own throat.

He was a robot. How else? How… else?

The knife. Gleaming in its sheath. Sharp enough to cut through the delusion. That wasn’t flesh. It was flexible metal.

Metal. 

Metal.

Hands went to its midnight handle.

Death lives. Life dies. These are inarguable truths. Universal facts embedded into its flesh by God’s switchblade. All of the things I have seen, did see, have made it maddeningly clear. No amount of drugs or alcohol will undo the horrid sights of Hell. 

No. Not Hell. Hell would mean feeling something. Being something. I am nothing. What made me me has been cored out, torn free; my heart is hollow and full with great bleeding saints. 

The machine. The fucking machine. Those tubes pumped that poison into my veins and flipped the switch. Good night. That great shadow fell upon my naked essence, my soul, like a vulture. It pecked out me. Still left all the shitty parts though. 

Out the flesh door and into the divine fire. Screaming. Laughing. So many colors. Too many colors. There were faces in the light. Screaming and laughing. Laughing and screaming. Faces within faces within faces within faces within faces. Everything was there. 

Everything. Existence. Our one true punishment for being thrust into this woodchipper we call life. You know what death is? It’s not the cession of biological functions like those eggheads say. You don’t go to Heaven or Hell when you die. 

You go Outside. Beyond. Between the light and shadow, the twilight mass of tumors slowly growing, ever growing. Death is being choked out. Life won’t stand a chance. Not when that weed finally breaks through and into, feeding on what makes us us. Hollowing. Coring out. Tearing free. You’ll see. 

I don’t know how I came back. I don’t want to know. Knowing led them to create that fucking machine. Jesus Christ. They were mad. Pure mad. If they thought I’d tell them what was waiting, where we all are heading, then they’ve got another thing coming. 

I see one of the guards now. His gun is so close. If I’m fast enough, I’ll grab it. 

Then I’ll show them what they’ve been asking me about.

Since it’s Holly’s birthday today, here’s an art piece drawn by my creative partner, CozyDiscord!

TW: This story features crude and vulgar language, graphic violence, and bad jokes. Reader discretion is advised.

“YOU REAP WHAT YOU SOW.”

I

“Hello,” greeted the employee. “What can I get for you?”

She frowned as darkly as possible. Didn’t even bother fixing the stray lock of brown hair. 

She leaned over the counter, propped up on elbows. The yellow vest and the black shirt clashed, hideous. Not tucked into her high-waisted jeans.

No name tag on her left breast. 

Angie sighed. 

She wanted to die. Badly. Which was funny since, last time she checked, she had. Violently. Gruesomely. 

Comically. 

Killed by the infamous Darling Death Dealer. Holly Slaughter. A wanted fugitive. 

Serial killer. Spree killer. Mass murde— 

Just… 

… a killer in general. 

One moment? Darkness. And flames. Lots of flames. Screaming too. Begging. Pleading. 

The next? Here she was. 

Standing behind yet another counter.

Once again underpaid. 

Once again suffering the Hell of Customer Service. Forced to smile while being insulted, ignored, abused. 

She wanted to die. And not just because of her chronic depression this time. Though that was still in play.

No Prozac. No happy little pills to keep the darkness at bay. Whatever had brought Angie back, it’d also affected things. 

Her therapist no longer recognized her. Neither did her parents, nor her best friend, nor her landlord. 

It was like she had never existed in the first place. 

Other than the trauma. Even if she couldn’t remember exactly how she died, it still stuck to her. Pain. Fear. 

The feeling of the knife going in. Seeing her face looming over—

Angie shook her head. Better not start another flashback. Derek, the manager of Collingswood 18, had warned her a thousand times already.

One more screaming fit and she was done. Finished. Fired. 

Enough complaints were lodged. 

“That one girl looked right through me, creepy!”

“I asked for some popcorn with butter and she just stood there, twitching, crazy bitch!”

“My son said hello and the young lady at the concession stand screamed her head off! Fire her!”

Bring it on. Angie looked forward to it. 

She despised this job, loathed it, with a slight passion. Get it over with. 

Set her free. Maybe she could finally put that noose to good use. Maybe this Hell would finally en—

But not now. 

The sixteen-year-old girl was staring at her. Sipping from an X-Tra Large Gulp bought elsewhere. Frowning. 

The sixteen-year-old boy standing next to her scanned the electronic board behind Angie. 

He bit a nail in thought.

“Do pretzels come with cheese dip?”

Angie rolled her eyes. “Yes.”

“Of course they do. Every place that serves pretzels has cheese dip on the side. Idiot.”

The boy’s eyes went left to right. 

“I’m sorry. I just want to make sure.”

A newborn baby wailed. Its baggy-eyed mother gently bobbed the bundle up and down.

The teenaged couple behind them whispered. Girlish giggling. Hands roamed under a thin T-shirt. 

The nerd with a neckbeard tried not to watch.

The Catholic schoolgirl paid no one any attention. Other than Angie, who found this odd. 

One green eye blinked. 

She titled her head, blonde curls disturbed.

Angie walked to the right. 

She passed by the popcorn dispenser. 

And the hotdog roller. 

Cotton candy machine.

She stopped at the pretzel dispenser. A small box emitting enough heat to burn. Which it had.

Multiple times. She slipped on a pair of plastic gloves. 

From back down the counter:

“What movie are we seeing again?”

“You forgot?”

“Y-yeah.”

Nervous laughter.

Silence.

Aside from the humming of pretzels being turned. Warmed. 

“You idiot.”

A sigh.

Angie looked.

The Catholic schoolgirl had set the X-Tra large Gulp down. She was rummaging through her pockets. 

Pulled out two tickets.

Peered at them.

“Um. AMAZING MAN v. RATGUY: DUSK OF HONOR.”

“Oh! Right!”

Angie moved mechanically. She pulled out two rather large salted pretzels. 

Grabbed two plastic bags. Stuffed both inside. 

The Catholic schoolgirl cringed. 

“Christ, Dem. This shit?”

The boy—whose name was apparently Dem—tilted his head. Black hair swung. 

“Wh-what’s wrong with—”

“Capeshit?”

Dem watched the Catholic schoolgirl anxiously. 

“You… you don’t like… superhero movies?”

The Catholic schoolgirl smirked.

“You like C-G-I dogshit fests with the same story being told over and over again?”

Dem blushed.

“Y-ye—”

“You like being forced to sit through countless post credit scenes, all to promote the next stain on cinematic art?”

Dem avoided her gaze.

“They… they’re no—”

“You like having to watch the lowest common dominator in the ass world of modern, corporate filmmaking in order to understand each interconnected piece of shit?”

Angie walked over. 

“They’re not shit!”

She sat down the two bags.

“Yes. They are.”

The Catholic schoolgirl and Dem snapped their heads toward her.

The Catholic schoolgirl smiled. Snapped her fingers. 

“My girl!”

Angie smiled back. The first time in, well, ever. 

She liked this girl in a school uniform. And not just because of the eyepatch. 

But the eyepatch helped.

Definitely.

Dem glanced at the bags containing his pretzels. Confusion sparked in gray eyes.

“Um. I asked for cheese dip.”

“Hold on a minute. I’m getting it.”

Angie walked into the employee’s only section. Humming the tune to THIS MAGICAL BOY ISN’T A HERO. 

She passed by shelves covered in cardboard boxes. Some were empty, discarded. Others still held stuff. 

Unsold 3D glasses. Themed popcorn buckets. A whole bunch of stuff theaters needed, but often couldn’t keep up front. Due to space.

Angie quickly found the cheese dip machine. She separated two little plastic cups from a stack. 

She sat one under a nozzled proboscis. 

Squeezed the trigger. Yellow-orange lava squirted free. The first cup was quickly filled to capacity. 

She grabbed a lid from another stack. Snapped it on. 

Repeat.

When Angie returned, a few things were different.

First? It was empty.

The Catholic schoolgirl and Dem. The mother and her baby. That horny couple. 

Even the neckbeard. 

They were gone. 

Angie blinked. 

She approached the counter. Sat down the pretzels and cheese dip. 

Air conditioning hummed. From somewhere, gunfire. Muffled by sorta thick walls and padding. 

“Uh… hello?”

A groan. 

From below.

Angie froze. Then peered over the counter. 

She nearly screamed.

The neckbeard laid on the floor. On his stomach. Blood and guts pooled under him. 

His stomach… 

… she gagged. His stomach had been torn open. 

Oh god. 

Angie nearly ran.

But then…

… she saw them.

The others.

The boyfriend and girlfriend were also on the floor. On top of each other. 

Blood puddles. Holes in their heads. The boyfriend had tried to shield her from… 

… Angie heard… 

… giggling. 

She looked.

The mother weakly slammed her bloodied hand. 

Smiling against pain. Her eyes stared off into space. 

“F-finally… finally, finally…”

Angie realized.

The bundle was gone.

She nearly asked her where it was.

Rumbling. From beside… 

… Angie didn’t want to look. 

She really didn’t. 

She’d do anything to not look.

To not see.

But… she did. She slowly turned to her right. 

The cotton candy machine was on. It rumbled, pulled and swirled. It hadn’t been on before.

Angie puked.

“Finally… sweet… sweet… si… len… cccccccccceeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee…”

The giggling turned to croaking.

Then silence.

Angie wiped her mouth. 

Bad. 

This was bad.

So very bad.

“I KNEW I recognized you.”

She suddenly felt metal being pressed against the back of her head.

She raised her hands. 

“Pl-please… I… I… don’t want to die…”

“Why not?”

“C-c-cause… I… uh…”

She thought desperately. 

“... I… I’m… I’m…”

She took a deep breath. 

“... I’m pregna—”

Blam!

II

“Did you have to shoot her?”

Holly sipped from her X-Tra Large Gulp. Smacked her lips. 

“Aaaahhhhhhhhh,” she sighed. 

They walked for a few seconds. 

She beamed. “Yep!”

The demon looked all around. 

Posters lined the walls of the corridor. Different movies coming soon. 

One showed dinosaurs surrounding a daycare. It peered closer, even as It walked. There was no title.

How strange. 

Why market something only half way? Humans made no sense. 

Another had a boy and girl. The girl was hanging upside down, backpack strap caught on the branch of a tree. The boy glared up at her. 

A tagline ran beneath them. 

OPPOSITES ATTRACT.

What did that even mean?

The demon stopped looking around. 

“I don’t know why I’m surprised.”

Holly scanned the doors. 

“Ten…”

From one auditorium came faint farting. Laughter. 

She rolled her eye. Pissants. So far beneath her. 

“... eleven…”

Roaring. 

Smashing, crashing sounds. Indiscernible yelling. 

She turned towards the demon. 

“Hey. Why don’t we check this one out? KEVIN: KING OF KAIJU is so much better than some… slop.”

“Isn’t that all C-G-I monsters?”

“Well yeah, but the original Japanese version was filmed using suitmation.”

“Suit-what now?”

Holly sighed. “Just forget it.”

“... twelve…”

The sound of a chainsaw. Screaming. 

She could see the guts. The blood. Holly felt her legs trembling. 

“Heeeey—”

The demon grabbed her free hand. 

“No.”

“B-but—”

“No, Holls.”

She grumbled. 

It saw their auditorium. 

Number thirteen. At the way back. 

Close to the fire exit doors. Sign glaring in darkness. It squeezed her hand. 

They approached.

Ice rattling within her X-Tra Large Gulp. Nearly empty.

“Hey, Dem?”

“Yeah?”

“Think… you can let go?”

“What?”

“Let go of my #$@&ing hand.”

The demon let go.

Holly brought her hand to her chest.

“S-sorry.”

She grunted.

Heat bloomed in her cheeks. The shadows hid it well. 

Behind them, a door opened. Light footsteps on carpet.

Then…

… doom. 

Slink.

Ice sliding against ice.

Slowly. But surely. 

In the corridor, it echoed. Like a bomb going off. A #$@&ing nuclear detonation.

The footsteps stopped. A growl. Then the footsteps resumed.

“Did… did I hurt…”

Holly looked up. 

“What?”

She saw the look on Its face. Her eye widened. 

Then contracted. 

Reason overtook the spark. 

“Oh. No. No, you didn’t. I jus—”

She saw the shape.

She moved quickly, faster than It could think. Her hand dipped into a pocket. 

Grabbed a familiar handle. 

She pulled out the Glock. Aimed it. 

Pulled the trigger.

Boom!

A 9mm Luger bullet flew through empty air. It spun counterclockwise. 

It struck just under the chin. Entered. Blew past the roof of the mouth. 

Entered again. Past the nose. Behind the eyes. Into the—

The demon yelped. 

It dropped everything. 

Bags and cups fell to the floor. 

Pretzels shed their salt. Cheese dip slipped through a crack between lid and cup, staining carpet. 

Hill Mist splashed everywhere. 

But Holly didn’t care if her socks were wet. Not now. 

The barrel smoked.

The body swayed on its feet. Then gravity took over. 

The body fell back. Head bouncing up and settling again. Laid, legs splayed. 

Bits and pieces of shattered skull. Brain glob. Blood fountained from a gaping hole.

Holly felt warmth on her face. She glanced down.

Red. Beautiful red.

She grinned. Poked her tongue out, dabbed the tip against this stain.

The demon flung Its hands and arms. Its pants clung to Its legs. Shoes squished.

“Cripes Holly! Give me a warning next ti—”

It didn’t have time to finish.

Lips met Its own. A tongue invaded the cavern of Its mouth, explored.

Hands pulled It closer. Pressed. Against. 

Ground. Hard. 

Holly moaned low, like a cow. One leg curled around Its waist. 

Its hands floundered about. 

Then pushed her away. 

It stepped back, gasping for sweet air. 

“What are you doing?!”

Holly smiled. Already horny drunk. 

“I’m sorry. Can’t blame a girl.”

“I certainly can! You made me drop—”

“Who cares about a little spilled soda? Or blood. Oh, there’s so much of it! So red. So bright. Oh, god, I just need to—”

She started to kneel. 

Her fingers twitched. Nerves were on fire. 

Drool hung from one corner of her mouth. Hunger gnawed at shame. 

The demon wanted to look away. It shook Its head in disgust. It couldn’t though. 

For some reason. 

Holly must’ve contaminated It. Yeah. 

Yeah. That’s it. She’d spread her sickness to It. 

But then…

… the body twitched.

The eyes rolled back into their sockets.

“What…”

They landed on Holly.

“... the…”

The body leaned forward. 

Standing up. 

“... frick?”

It belonged to a man. 

Tall. Yellow vest over black dress shirt.

The black trousers met a pair of black shoes. Polished often. 

Glinting.

The man cracked his neck. His blood stopped flowing. 

“U-uh, Holly?”

The demon stepped back. It looked up at the man. 

But the man didn’t notice It. All his attention was focused on…

… Holly’s finger twitched. She pulled the trigger. 

Another bullet. 

This time, it struck his eye. Popped it like a balloon.

Went through his brain. Out the back of his bald head. 

It met drywall. 

The man didn’t even flinch. 

He glared at Holly.

His eyes were light black. But only on the outside. Behind this mask was… nothing. 

Ice. Void. 

No feelings. 

There was no soul. There never had been. Just an emptiness that spoke of conflict. 

Suffering. Death. 

It reminded her of—

Holly pulled the…

… click.

She pulled it again.

Click.

And again.

Click, click.

She didn’t look down. Couldn’t. 

She could only stare up at the man. 

Shock.

Genuine shock. 

And terror. 

Not the fake kind she so often cultivated. 

Holly was a master of acting, pretending. Masking herself. 

Nothing had gone as planned. 

She’d shot…

… shot…

… and yet, he’d…

… he was…

… the man reached out. Swiped the Glock out of her hands. 

Holly stepped back. 

He positioned it between both hands, giant hands, scarred hands. 

Then—

He crushed the gun. 

Crumpled it up. Flattened it. 

Shards of steel and polymer rained down.

He tilted his head. 

Frowning. 

The demon pissed Itself.

Its pants started melting. The acrid scent of acid mingled with metallic blood. They mixed. 

Forming an utter nightmare. 

“H-H-Holly?”

Holly stood rigid.

She swallowed. Blinked. 

“R-run.”

And they did.

III

They ran. 

He chased.

Like a dance. Between prey and predator.

“What the heck is that thing?!”

Holly dug through her pockets. “I don’t #$@&ing know!”

She grabbed something sphere-shaped. Out came a grenade.

She tossed it behind her.

The man caught it in his hands. Looked at it. 

Tilted his head. 

An explosion sent them flying.

The demon got amazing air time. Its horns stabbed into the ceiling. 

It glanced down. Swung from side to side. 

So high up.

Holly hit a wall. 

An audible crack. And she knew. Her arm was out of its socket. 

She slid to the floor. One good eye caught his. 

Or what remained.

The blast had done some damage. A shit ton. 

Flesh peeled away in scorched patches. His uniform hung in tatters, blood gushing from exposed veins. Bones greeted naked air. 

One of his arms dangled by a thread. Fingers had been blown off. 

And yet…

… he still came. Walking on two legs. 

Holly saw her X-Tra Large Gulp. It laid on the floor, spilled. 

Holly seethed.

She reached into her pocket again. Pain could be ignored, but it still affected. 

Her hand shook. Badly.

The demon grunted. It pressed both hands against the ceiling. Trying desperately to dislodge…

… no use.

It saw Holly fishing around. The man walked calmly toward her. 

This man.

What the hell was he?

A demon? An angel? An automaton? 

There were many things, many options. A lot of these were terrible. A few downright hopeless. The demon thought.

It remembered something It’d seen on a spotty motel TV one night. Some sci-fi movie from the 80s. About a woman who found out her unborn child would become the savior of mankind. 

Leader of a resistance against robotic hordes.

What was the title?

“Holly!”

She slowly pulled out a second pistol.

“What?”

It cupped a hand over Its mouth. 

“I think this guy might be an Exterminator!”

She shakily aimed. 

“You #$@&ing think?!”

She pu—

The man lifted his foot. Brought it down.

Crrruuuunnnnccchhhhh. 

Holly screamed. She tried to pull her hand free. The man just ground it down.

“H-Holly!”

The man didn’t blink. 

He watched as she struggled. Impassively. 

Coolly. As if none of this interested him. The demon shuddered.

It resumed Its own fight. Flakes of ceiling fell. 

It pulled. And pulled. Pulled. But Its horns were deep. 

Holly glanced across the lobby. Past all the bodies, victims. Her eye found… 

… she pulled the trigger.

A .38 bullet flew.

Ricocheted against a metal icecream box. Came back.

The man jolted. His eyes rose, fell. 

A hole appeared in his chest. The bullet exited. 

The window shattered. Holly shielded her head with her free arm. 

The bullet traveled. 

Past the parking lot. 

Across a street.

Into a gas station.

The bullet found its home in the skull of a robber holding a shotgun.

The cashier slowly lowered his arms.

Back at Collingswood 18, Holly peeked. 

The man stood over her. A teardrop of blood trickled down his chest. 

She slumped.

“Worth a shot.”

The man grabbed her throat. Tightened. Lifted her off the glass-riddled floor. 

“Not… this again.” 

She swung her arms. Beat at his. 

Tried to kick him in the nuts. He simply tightened his grip. 

The demon saw this. 

“Holly!”

Crack.

It looked up.

Its horns slid inch by inch. Flakes turned to rain.

“O-oh.”

They came free.

And It fell. 

It screamed. 

It flailed Its arms, flipped over again and again. 

Holly started to slow.

The man stared her in the eye. Watching. 

He let go. She choked as she fell. 

His arm reached out, grabbed the demon by Its own throat. 

Then squeezed. Its windpipe collapsed. Its eyes widened. A stray claw caught the man’s eyeball. It pulled free.

Out came his eye. 

He let go of It.

It fell again. 

Clutched at Its now crumpled neck. Wheezing. 

The man reached for his dangling eyeball. 

Slik.

The man squeaked. He looked down.

Holly dropped the bloody shard of glass. She scrambled to her feet. 

He took a step. And his leg buckled. He fell forward, landing on his knees. 

His achilles heel tore even wider. 

Holly darted around, grabbing the demon’s hand. Its eyes bulged out of their sockets. 

She took a deep breath. Croaked out: 

“Come… on.”

It didn’t understand. It pointed at Its throat. 

Gesturing. 

Holly spared no second. 

“We… need… to… think.”

They ran down the same corridor as before. 

Past a few doors behind which came various sounds. Someone crying in despair. 

A crowd whooping and hollering, clapping like seals. 

Even a woman moaning.

Holly chose one at random. Auditorium Five. 

Without missing a beat, she flung the door open. Shoved the demon through. Then slammed the door shut. 

Back in the lobby… 

… the man knelt. Rubbing at his bleeding foot. 

Inside, it was dark. 

That was to be expected. Light shone down from a large screen, heaven.

On it:

“But Jerry, we can’t get married!”

“Why not?”

“Because I am… dead!”

Dramatic, overwhelming horns blared from surround sound speakers. 

Holly and the demon ducked. They fell to their knees. 

No one else was present. Just them. 

“Holy,” she gasped. “Shit.”

The demon was beginning to turn yellow. It kept pointing at Its throat.

Which slowly began to uncrumple. Bones fixed themselves. Skin straightened out. 

And the demon breathed again.

In fact, it practically dragged air into Its screaming lungs. Once. Twice. 

It spat out a wad of spit. 

Holly was careful not to touch it.

It looked at her with tears in Its eyes.

“Why… why did you shoot him?!”

“I don’t… I didn’t know this would…”

“We’re going up against something that can’t be killed, Holly! Can’t you see that?!”

“Of… of course. I can. It’s just…”

“What?”

“... Everything can be killed, Dem. Anything.”

On the screen: 

“Till death do you part.”

Laugh track. 

“You sure, darling?”

Holly thought. 

“What did we ever do to him?”

“We?! You mean you! I didn’t bring in outside food and drink! Nor did I shoot him!”

Holly waved a hand. 

“No, no, that can’t be it.”

Holly kept thinking.

“What if…”

Holly got it. 

“... what if, say, we crushed him?”

“Crush him with what?”

“Uh, huh, um…”

The demon glared at her.

“I’m listening.”

Holly thought.

“... uh…”

The demon curled an eyebrow.

Holly looked away.

“... shit, I’ve got nothing.”

The demon bashed Its head against the floor.

Several times.

It ground Its teeth.

“You idiot.”

Holly jolted.

On the screen:

“Goodbye my love.”

“W-wait! You don’t have to do this!”

Stab, stab. 

A man screams.

Holly slowly turned her head.

“Me?”

The demon nodded, frowning.

“Really? Who’s the brainless dick-puppet who wanted to go see D-Class slop in the first place?”

Just then…

… the door opened.

IV

Holly slapped a hand over the demon’s mouth.

“#$@&.”

The demon looked up.

Faint light shone down. A beam. 

The man held a flashlight. She realized that he was also standing. 

Even though she’d cut through his achilles heel.

#$@& indeed. 

Holly and the demon kept still. So very still. They didn’t even breathe, much less thought. 

The beam cut through an aisle. Passed over empty seats in desperate need of repair. Or a flamethrower. It stopped.

The man waited.

They waited.

And then, the man started moving.

‘Shit, shit, shit,’ Holly internally screamed. 

She looked at the demon. It looked back. 

They read each other’s eyes. 

They both nodded. 

Began to crawl slowly, ever slowly backwards. Away as he came forward. 

The demon avoided spilled popcorn. A discarded cup crawling with ants. 

It felt something sticky. Hoped that was candy melt-fused to the floor.

Not what It thought it was. 

His shape lumbered into view. He took one step. Another. Working through the pain. 

If he even felt pain. 

Holly wondered. Who was he? What was he?

She knew he wasn’t human. Obviously. No human could withstand this much damage. 

The predator within her took stock. 

She’d seen enough horror movies. Watched them religiously, for pleasure. 

While other girls her age were glued to Dollie’s Dreamhouse, she partook in slashers. B-movie shlock. Torture porn. 

And she learned. Certain monsters had certain weaknesses. Things one can count on to put them down. 

And she assumed that, since demons were real, then monsters were real too.

But… 

… the man couldn’t have been a zombie. You could re-kill the living dead via headshots. Destroy the brain. 

She already did that. Put two in him. 

He still lived.

Or a werewolf. 

He hadn’t transformed into a furry beast, howled, growled. Hadn’t tried to maul them. 

And plus his heart was already popped. 

Holly lowered her hand from the demon’s mouth. 

The man stopped walking. They stopped crawling. 

He stood in the aisle. Light from the screen played over torn, mangled flesh. 

He watched as credits rolled. 

Holly and the demon glanced at each other. Confused. 

But Holly was still thinking. 

It was like… he just wanted to kill them. 

There was no rage, no emotion. Simply a need to end them both. Her specifically. 

Dem was just a bonus. An accessory. Holly had instigated this whole shitstorm. 

The man acted rationally. Mechanically. As if he was a robot.

The man resumed walking. 

He reached the next row. Disappeared from view. 

The demon gestured with Its head. 

Holly shook hers. 

Not yet. Still too close. 

It pleaded with Its eyes. 

She glared. 

It swallowed silently. Got the message.

They crawled forward. Back the way they came. 

Holly caught glimpses between the seats. 

The man stood near the screen. 

He looked up at it. Transfixed. Caught in its fantastical glow. 

His arms hung by his sides. 

Bingo.

Holly glanced around. There had to be something, anything. 

She knew humans all too well. 

They never followed the rules. Never silenced their phones. Never kept quiet during the movie.

Never threw away their trash.

Of course, screw the rules. 

She found what she was looking for. A smirk crossed pale lips. 

She reached for the discarded cup. 

Ants sensed her presence. They ran. 

The demon peered over her shoulder. It arched an eyebrow. 

Holly glanced Its way. She tilted her head and pointed. It followed her gaze to… 

… It nearly yelped. Flailed Its hand, the used condom flopping. 

She reached over. 

She plucked it off. Gently. A single gleaming eye found Its saucer-sized own. 

A twinkle. Idea. 

She pinched it between two fingertips. Crawled toward the demon. It backed away.

She peeked out from behind a seat. Aimed. 

Flung the condom like a deflated balloon. 

The inseminated projectile flew. Sailed over row after row. The demon watched as—

Squelch.

It hit bullseye. 

The man dropped his flashlight, which rolled. He turned left and right. 

He ran a hand against the back of his head. Tried to pull off the condom. 

Couldn’t. It was stuck. Bio-glued. 

He tried even harder and still failed.

The demon blinked. 

Holly grabbed Its hand. She stood up and bolted out of the aisle. It stumbled along. 

Crunch. 

Their shoes met popcorn landmines. The man’s head twisted around. 

Like completely around. 

It eeped. 

“What is he, an owl?!”

“I think I know,” Holly yelled. “He’s a dumbass with a soiled dick-diaper on his bowling ball head!” 

The demon gaffawed. 

“What are you doing?!”

Holly dug through her pockets. 

“Getting his attention.”

“Why?!”

“Because…”

She pulled out a large butcher knife. 

The blade glinted. 

They reached the auditorium door. But Holly didn’t push through.

Instead she turned around. One hand met Its chest. A grim smile met Its frown. 

“... I think I know how to stop him.”

The demon glanced back. 

The man was coming. 

He had already forgotten about the condom. It swung with each step. 

His eyes could burn a hole through steel. Gone was the anger. Hatred boiled within.

He wielded the flashlight again. 

The demon spun on Its heels. Or what passed for heels on cloven hooves. 

“Then tell me! But not here! Definitely not here!”

“Why not?”

Insane. 

This girl was insane. 

Utterly demented. 

It grabbed the front of her vest. Pushed and pulled. 

Stole glances at an approaching menace. 

Holly stopped smiling.

“Because…”

Holly waited. 

“... we need him in range.”

Waited.

The demon’s lips trembled. 

“Of what?” It squeaked. 

The man lifted his hand. 

His flashlight seemed so heavy. 

It could bash in a skull. Their skulls. 

Once. Twice. Maybe he wouldn’t stop until—

“Of this!”

And Holly spun It around. 

And sliced.

A geyser of black blood spewed forth. 

Hot. 

Hot enough to create steam. Holly felt the heat against her face. She liked it. 

It struggled. A claw reached up, tried to nab her. 

No dice.

She grabbed one of Its horns. Pulled it back. 

Forcing Its head back. The slit tore open even wider. This gave more leeway for the blood.

Demonic blood.

The man didn’t have a chance. 

It painted him. 

Found open wounds. Exposed nerves. 

Pain found him next. True pain. The kind he’d never felt before. 

He opened his mouth to scream. 

Bad mistake. 

Blood cascaded inside, down his throat. 

Holly grinned like a hyena. 

She stepped back. 

Kicked the demon forward. 

It stumbled into him. 

The man felt his skin melting away. Fat. Muscles. 

He tried to shield himself with his good arm. Another mistake.

Everything burned. 

Sloughed off. 

Fell.

The demon’s vision grew spotty. Blurry. 

Darkness encroached. 

It sank. 

Holly cackled.

She raised both arms up in victory.

“Whoo hoo! Yes!”

She clapped and jumped. 

The man fell. The demon fell forward, landing on top. 

Gravity did its job. 

Holly watched. 

Through it all, Holly watched.

The demon woke up screaming.

It reached for Its throat. Fully expecting to find a gash bigger than the Grand Canyon. 

But no. Only taut skin-like scales. 

It breathed in and out. 

“Took you long enough.”

It looked over.

Holly sat on top of a seat. Light played across her side profile. 

She sipped from an XX-Tra Large Gulp. 

It blinked. 

“What the hell, Holl—”

What have you heard? 

What have you seen? 

Where did you go 

and where have you been?

It's been a long time. 

It's been several years. 

If you were somewhere

was it something to fear?

Talk to me. 

Speak your mind. 

You're here now, young man

so everything will be fine. 

You were last seen at the market. 

You were hanging out with your friends. 

When did your nightmare start

and how did it end?

Everyone, quiet down. 

Everyone, listen closely. 

Poor kid's going to be talking 

so go fetch Doctor Mosely.

You were just leaving the parking lot. 

Heading right towards some store. 

Go on, go on, ignore him

and tell us more.

So you were standing near the door.

You were talking on your phone. 

A text message appeared on the screen

from Mom back home?

What did it say? 

Do you remember? 

You don't? 

Ok, sure.

You just know you froze.

Stood there for a few seconds.

Did someone have a gun

pressed to the back of your head?

No? 

Hm. 

Well, did you at least

get a good look at him?

The doors were all glass. 

There must've been a reflection. 

Hey, Henry, stop pestering the poor kid

and go back to your station!

Keep going. 

You're safe now. 

So tell us who did this 

and how.

What was that? 

There wasn't a gun? 

Then why did you freeze

and why didn't you run?

You couldn't move? 

What do you mean? 

There has to be a reason

for that, Gene.

You were frozen in place. 

You could feel nothing. 

All you could do was stand there

as something

You did see something? 

In the glass? 

Well, was it a stranger 

or someone from class?

No? 

Nothing like that? 

Were you knocked on the head

with a baseball bat?

Something was standing behind you? 

It wasn't a person? 

Please, kiddo 

is this true?

This something had teeth. 

It had no face. 

Hey, doc, you better 

pick up the pace.

It kept whispering. 

You could only listen. 

It spoke in no voice 

and stank of nothing but sin.

It asked you to comply. 

It urged you to follow. 

Sorry, but this 

is kinda hard to swallow.

This something, what was it? 

Was it a demon or an alien? 

Yeah, we have been listening

to what you've been saying.

It was neither? 

You closed your eyes? 

Was your abduction a hoax

or a spiraling lie?

Neither? 

You're being honest? 

This thing took you 

and made you its guest?

It took you where? 

Somewhere dark? 

The ceiling was bone 

and the floor, made from tree bark?

It hung you on hooks. 

Then it started to hum. 

What you've been through 

must've been quite traum

It took its fingers. 

They were sharp as knives. 

One press from them 

made you break out in hives.

It began its work?

The points went through? 

Kiddo, I'm sorry

but I can't understand you.

It began to carve? 

Carve away your flesh? 

Flakes of you were taken 

and kept fresh?

It would cut and cut? 

Right down to your bones? 

As it did this 

the thing's eyes shone?

Ah, Doctor. 

Please come in. 

I don't think 

I can keep talking to him.

This one's bad. 

He could've been drugged. 

Either that

or his head's all bugged.

Kiddo, stay calm. 

Talk to the Doc. 

Cause it's almost midnight 

and I'm off the clock.

Judy walked into traffic on October 7, 2022. I was standing beside her. We were shopping for a wedding dress. It’s useless now. 

“Who I,” she began to mumble, hands clenching around the bags. “Who am, where I, what am?” 

Her eyes darted to and fro. They grew wider with each passing second— the whites disappeared, only the black of her pupils remaining. 

“What?” I didn’t think I heard her right. Cars were flying past us. 

“Who I? Who I? Tell. Who am? What this? Where arrived?” 

People whispered around us. A businessman in a three-piece suit glared, consulting his wristwatch, counting the seconds we were wasting. 

“Judy,” I touched her shoulder. “Are you ok? What do you mean, ‘arrived’? We just got here. Remember?” 

“Tell. Where? What? Tell who am. Tell me am. What are.” 

“Judy. Are you feeling alright?” 

She shuddered and shook. 

“Know? Do know? Does any know?” 

Judy nearly went limp, her mouth falling open. I gasped. The inside was shifting, teeth sliding to and fro. The roof rippled. 

“J-Judy,” I dropped my own bag. 

She continued to shake. 

“No, no, no.” 

As she trembled, the sounds grew louder. Bones creaked and groaned. 

“Judy, please.” I backed away without thinking. I didn’t know what to do. This was happening, but I didn’t understand what. 

“No.” Judy spoke, voice hollow. She leaned backwards and raised a limp hand towards the sky. Past the moon and the sun. 

As if that statement refuted everything. 

“Help. Help. Help. Take back, take back, take back, take back, take back, take back, take back.” 

“Judy, p-please, stop.” 

“Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.” Staring into darkness that waited behind the brightness of Day and twitching, she pointed, at a destination unreachable. 

“Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

“Hear. Save. Hear. Save. Take back.” 

Judy lifted a foot which twisted on the ankle until it faced backwards. 

“Hear!” She shout-screeched, dropping the foot upon the pavement, blood pooling around it. “Hear!” 

Judy’s yell went high. Past high. It was no longer a voice, no longer her own, but noise. All noise as one. In her throat, machines were dying— static mingling with screams and squeals. 

The noise suddenly stopped. Her mouth closed. Both eyes zoomed inward, black imploding into brown, then white. They fell. Her face paled. She started to cry. But not tears. Blood. 

She stepped off. I reached out. To stop her from taking it. That final step. But I could already feel the space between us vibrating. Air shimmered. Glinted. Like a mirror inside a mirror. 

“No. Said. No. Left. No.” 

I never reached her. Maybe I wasn’t meant to. 

“Judy, wait, please, don’t!” 

She moved. “No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No.” 

With that, the trembling resumed. Her spine rattled. Veins pushed against skin until they burst. Patches of white deepened into purple and red. I couldn’t watch anymore. I still watched. 

“No,” Judy said, voice cracking with sobs and hiccups and giggles. “No. No. No.” 

Fingers snapped. Hips collapsed. Wrists twisted. Ears bled. Everything bled. An ocean of blood. It ran towards a manhole. It collected. Waterfalls. 

“Judy,” I screamed. “For the love of God, stop!” 

“No,” Judy cackled, jerking this way and that. 

The shimmering grew harsher. It obscured her and nearby cars, pedestrians covering their mouths and holding up their phones. She became fractals. Those fractals collapsed into her. 

I felt a humming. My bones could have shattered. Squeaking bled through the humming, sounding more like screams. People screaming. Things screaming. 

“Forsaken. Abandoned. Unwanted. Mistake.” 

As those screams grew higher and higher, so too did the shimmering. The glares crystallized. They soon cracked open. 

“Sin,” Judy shrieked. “Error!” She stepped right into the middle of the street. A horn blared. “Affront!” 

The cracks became strings. Those strings went inside her. They weren’t puppet strings, but something else. Something far more basic. I realized what was happening when each string began to hum. Hum and scream. Life. 

Intent. 

“Sorry! Sorry!” 

These were brainwaves. Excess thoughts leaking through a body far too thin to contain them. 

“Correction! Fix! Will! Up!” 

I glanced around. Warmth trickled from one nostril. It wasn’t just me. A police officer rubbed his temples, unsteady. A mother stared into her baby carriage. 

“No,” I screamed. My voice was inaudible. “Judy!” 

Judy stopped halfway across. She spread her arms wide, hands limply hanging. 

“Forgive,” Judy wept. But it wasn’t actually Judy. Just her body. Something else stood before the oncoming traffic. 

“Lord,” I prayed. “Please.” 

“Please,” It spoke, maintaining eye contact with countless drivers. “Me. Forgive.”

“Please,” I begged. “Someone hel—”

The truck came swift and sure. Judy’s head struck the front bumper, then her body crumpled, went limp, was dragged under. Wheels ground flesh. 

The shimmering faded away as if a circuit had been switched off. 

I didn’t scream. Why would I? No sound could ever give shape to the horror that I felt. I watched as my best friend’s blood formed shapes along the street. 

I couldn’t say a thing.

Gwen understood. 

More than anyone, she knew the risks. What would happen afterward. 

The details had been driven into her head over and over again. Ever since childhood, with Mom and Pop, she heard the motto. And felt the belt. 

Pop used the belt when there was no other option. Verbal lashings only went so far. Words themselves were feeble against human ignorance. Violence truly teached. 

Gwen understood the cost. Sundays spent sitting, splinters digging into flesh, ears open. Heart open. She would listen as Pop read aloud from the book. His voice bounced off the cellar walls.

Demands. Commands. The Lord issued forth proclamations. At points, Pop pointed straight through her chest. He asked. And little Gwen nodded, promised, swore by the stake. 

She’d follow the rules. 

She would never eye the devil’s implements. 

She would never give into temptation. Adam and Eve had, and look where that put their Mom and Pop. 

Gwen meant it. Back then, she still said her prayers and loved her neighbor. The lashings held true. 

But not for long. Her baby sister Ruth was born, and her heart came unmoored. Feelings seeped in. Wounds were healed by baby eyes staring upwards into her own. 

Innocence. 

Sisterly love gave way to dependence. Years would lead away from dependence to desperation. Weakness grew with each passing night. 

Until that night. 

That night was enough. She had been distracted during the process. Thoughts of brown-eyed Jack slowed her hands. 

The paint wasn’t mixed right. When applied above the front door, it did not shield. It granted permission. 

Gwen knew the risks. Everyone understood what the consequences would be. But nobody knew about her batch. Not even her. 

Gwen found her by morning’s light. Ruth, blonde-haired and blue eyed, laid in her bed, limbs splayed. Skin gray. Cold. 

The Angel had left behind a wilted rose. 

Gwen wept. Her cheeks grew red with guilt. 

But nothing could undo the sin. Ruth was with the Choir by then, beyond her reach. Prayers only sought, never brought. 

Gwen understood. 

Gwen knew better than anyone. 

The Angel only took the innocent. 

The pure. The sheep who needed a shepherd to guide. 

But Gwen couldn’t take it. 

She left her window open that night. There was no sign drawn above it. 

Or the door. Why leave Mom and Pop behind to suffer? Ruth wouldn’t want them too. 

Gwen followed Adam and Eve into the burning field.

I had a dream last night. 

I was wandering the hallway at my old high school. 

I was lost, couldn’t find the exit. And home was crying my name.

I couldn’t see anything, the pitch dark everything, everything; a cloak. 

Not even the floor seemed real. 

Suddenly I felt it, the feeling of being watched. 

People were watching me. 

I spun around and finally saw something— some things, more than could be counted.

They stared from within classrooms. 

Behind glass, the windows in the doors. 

Faces pale, eyes dark, all crowded in those portholes, fish in ever tightening bowls. 

They were in there; in all of the classrooms, trapped behind doors I knew were locked. 

Then I woke up. 

But I can’t help thinking: What if that’s what the afterlife is? 

What if I’ll close my eyes and find myself among my classmates? 

The ones I remember? The ones I don’t?