#spectrals megaverse

I don’t know how to say this without sounding completely crazy. But yesterday, I went to the carnival hoping to win $600. Instead, I found god. 

The carnival comes to our town for a week during the summer, and I normally don’t go. Despite liking roller coasters and rides in general, I don’t trust carnival rides. 

The only reason I went was because they were passing out flyers. If you were buried alive for a couple of minutes, you would win $600. I figured it wouldn’t hurt, right? They wouldn’t let you die. 

-

As I walked up to the board that described the event, my head started hurting. It was a weird kind of pain, one that came from the back of my head and caused the hairs on the back of my neck to stand on end. 

The rules were pretty straightforward, and to put it simply, some were mildly concerning. I figured they added some flair to the rules to try and draw people in. 

Rule number one: You do not have to hold your breath. We will supply you with air and provide you with a bottle of water and a snack. 

Rule number two: If you hear something, ignore it. If you smell something, it’s all in your head. 

Rule number three: If you hear a voice on the walkie-talkie and it does not sound like the man who lowered you, do not get out of the coffin. 

Rule number four: If you see something on the other side, report it to the man who lowered you when you’re released. 

-

After reading the rules, I walked to the area where the coffin was. I thought it was weird that the space was inside of a larger tent instead of outside. I peeled back the red tent door and poked my head inside. 

“Hello?” I asked as I looked around. The tent had a large hole dug in the middle of the floor. White silk filled the coffin, which was made of redwood. It was pretty to look at, and for a moment I couldn’t take my eyes off of the coffin. 

“Hi.” A man said from next to me. I must’ve missed him when I looked around the tent the first time. His long black beard stretched down to his stomach and his dark blue eyes seemed to illuminate the tent. 

When we made eye contact, he laughed at me and stood up. 

“I didn’t mean to scare you. Are you here about the contest?” He asked me as he held his hand out to me. 

I reached forward and shook his hand. 

“Yeah. I got one of the flyers. Is the money still being offered to someone who goes under? I don’t have claustrophobia or anything, and I made sure to read the rules.” I told the man as I shook his hand with a small smile. 

“Perfect. We were going to update those, actually, but the prize amount was increased to a grand.” He said as he walked away from me and opened a small cooler. When he turned back he tossed me a bottle of water and a candy bar.  

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I didn’t stop and think about why the reward was increased. I didn’t ask any questions. 

I moved forward and climbed into the coffin. It was only going to be for a couple of minutes. I figured I wouldn’t need the snack of the drink. I turned around and let my back hit the coffin floor. The man smiled from above me. 

“We can talk through the walkie-talkie.” The man told me as he tossed me one. It landed on my chest. As I reached up to try it out the coffin lid closed and I could feel myself being lowered into the ground. 

-

I was under there for what felt like hours and with each passing moment my heart felt like it was going to burst out of my chest. It felt like I would never escape. 

I went from being calm, cool, and collected to terrified and completely panicked. 

Eventually, the surrounding air began feeling heavy and that’s when I heard him. 

“You come here. You sit here on the bounds of my world and yours and you come here for what? Answers?” The man hissed at me. His voice was deep, I could feel it forcing its way into my brain. 

“You’re like the others. You come here but do not speak. But you listen, you listen so closely to my words. What? Do you want to know about the heavens? About the hells?” 

“Do you want to know how you’ll die?” He asked me. His voice slid into my head. I could tell that he wanted me to answer him and I wanted to. Something was drawing my lips apart.

I don’t know where to start, so please bear with me. I’m dealing with a serious problem, and it's beginning to drive me crazy. 

In April, I left for a work trip. I was gone for a week and left my house completely unattended. I don’t live with anyone, and I don’t have pets. My street tends to be pretty quiet, and for the most part, everyone gets along. 

Over the past few years, I have had minor issues with the people who live across the street from me, but they're not bad people. Occasionally, they let their trash blow onto my lawn or box my car into my driveway. At least a few years ago, we never got along because John liked to pull pranks on me. 

When I returned at the end of April, I arrived home to a large statue on my lawn. It looks like a gargoyle. The statue has big wings and fangs and is extremely muscular. I don’t know what it’s made of, but I tried to move it: I wasn’t strong enough to push it. I assumed John had it put on my lawn as a prank. I’ll admit, I got pretty annoyed. I stormed across the street and banged on his door for a minute. After that, I rang the doorbell. I wasn't surprised when no one answered the door. However, John’s car was parked in his driveway. I was fuming. I walked back across the street and went home. 

I wanted to blow off steam before calling the police. The statue was an eyesore, occupying a large portion of my small yard space. As soon as I got inside, I went to take a quick shower. When I stepped out of the shower and went to make the phone call, the statue was no longer on my lawn. 

I went outside to check! There was no way one person could move that statue. But there was nothing to be seen on my lawn. Instead of calling the police, I went back inside and made dinner. I figured I was overreacting. 

Well, it’s now December, and it turns out I didn't overreact at all. 

May

The first few weeks of May were standard. 

Every night I would look out my living room window, and every night the statue could be seen on my property. The statue wouldn’t be on my lawn when the morning rolled around. I figured that the bottom of the statue was filled with sand, which would explain why the statue was so heavy in the first place. 

I got fed up with the prank and decided to visit my neighbors. I must've walked across the street dozens of times in May. Each time no one would answer the door, but the whole time John’s car was in the driveway. 

As the end of May rolled around, I decided to call the police. I filed a police report, but it never went anywhere. 

June

In June, I firmly believed that someone was messing with me. If it wasn't John or whoever else was living in the house, it had to be someone else in the neighborhood. Within two days, someone smashed the camera I had set up outside to see if I could catch who was doing this. The video looked like someone had tossed a rock at it. 

A couple of weeks into June, I woke up to two cop cars outside of my house. The cops were knocking on the door across the street. 

When they started asking questions around the neighborhood, I told them everything I knew, which wasn't much. I guess they had some kind of accident and were found dead. The police department did not release details to the public. 

The statue was on my lawn the whole time. I did not know who to call to have it removed. 

July - September 

These three months were some of the hardest I’ve had to deal with in my whole life. In July, I contacted the city about having the statue removed, and I even tried to sell it at the end of the month. No matter what I did, I always saw the figure on my grass. 

People did buy it, and I would get a refund request each time. Apparently, someone was stealing it, which didn't make any sense because it always appeared back on my lawn like clockwork. 

August was when I first saw it open its eyes. The statue has piercing yellow eyes; it doesn't appear to breathe but blinks. Once it turns midnight, it looks at my house. If my blinds were open, it would be watching me. 

In September, I saw it stand for the first time. No longer hunched over, it stood at least six or more feet. I am no longer convinced this creature is a statue. It appears to be thinking and moving on its own. I began to wonder what had happened to my neighbors. 

October - December

I kept my lights off all of October. The creature stayed across the street for most of the month. I requested to return to the office so I wouldn’t be home.

In November, I decided I was going crazy. The creature came around every night, looking at my house. It never got closer but was always there. One night I found it in my backyard, and that night, I noticed the wings on the creature. I couldn’t remember if they’d always been there. 

It’s December, and the beast has moved closer to my house. I have caught it looking inside my window. It seems to like the front lawn, but I found it in the back, and it has appeared on my roof several times. 

You can do this. You can do this. Chris thought to himself as he stepped in front of the basement door. 

As Chris opened the basement door, his body was shaking. Normally, he never ventured down to the basement. Being in the cellar has always freaked him out: He knew this annoyed his parents. Especially because his mom regularly asked him to do laundry. He never found the courage to venture downstairs until today. 

As Chris eyed the long staircase before him, he exhaled loudly. He looked at the small laundry basket in his arms. He felt like he would drop the basket; his hands were getting increasingly sweaty. He could feel his legs shaking and decided not to waste more time. 

Chris moved his left leg and slowly took a step. 

“Only twenty steps to go,” Chris said aloud, counting each step. The closer he got to twenty, the more relaxed he felt. Once he hit sixteen, Chris stopped moving forward and scanned the walls. 

Something was different. As Chris gave the walls a closer look, he began to notice the pictures on the wall next to him. They looked like the family pictures at the top of the staircase. Chris was puzzled for a second, but after a few seconds, he realized that his mother must have reorganized the pictures.

Chris decided he was freaking out for no reason. He shook his head and decided to press forward. The washing machine felt like it was miles away. 

“Seventeen,” Chris said aloud as he took another step, convinced the floor would come into view when he hit twenty. Chris took another look at the wall as his foot hit the seventeenth step. His left eye twitched as he noticed the same pictures he had just seen at the top of the staircase. Part of him wanted to take a step back and double-check. Chris shook his head and decided to keep pushing forward. I feel like I’m going crazy. Why does the air feel so heavy down here?

“Eighteen.” He mumbled as he looked back for the door. Chris was convinced that his mind was playing tricks on him. The door seemed so far away like it was moving backward. Chris felt like his anxiety was controlling the situation. “There’s no way,” Chris said aloud as he shook his head and slowly continued moving down the steps. 

“Nineteen.” Chris paused because there were more than twenty stairs. He could see at least another ten steps. Something was wrong. 

He began to speed walk down the rest and didn't bother to count. He gripped the laundry basket tightly as he moved down the stairs. As Chris descended the stairs, he slowly realized he couldn’t see the basement floor. 

Chris turned around and slowly began walking up the steps. As he moved forward, his pace began to pick up. “I have to find the door!” Chris screamed. As he traveled up the stairs, it slowly dawned on him: He could no longer see the basement door. “What-” Chris felt like his throat was closing. 

The air in the basement was getting heavier, and the laundry basket felt like it weighed one hundred pounds. Chris took a deep breath and charged down the staircase. 

Chris was determined to make it to the end of the stairs and get help. There was no way his mom did this every time she went to do the laundry. Chris could feel his shirt slowly becoming soaked in sweat as he descended. 

“Someone help!” Chris cried out, but he knew no one could hear him. As he took one last step, Chris heard a loud creaking sound. He stopped walking and glanced down at the step beneath his foot. Chris watched as the crack grew larger: He felt frozen in time. Part of him wanted this to end so badly that he was willing to fall through the stairs. But just as the crack grew, Chris jumped off the step. He attempted to land a few steps down but could not regain his footing. 

Chris screamed and tried to use the laundry basket to brace himself. As the basket hit the steps below, Chris could feel the wind being knocked out of his body. He bounced with the laundry basket. 

As his body flew into the air, Chris braced himself to hit the stairs and continue falling. He wondered what falling down a never-ending flight of stairs would feel like. He figured he would die within the first ten minutes of tumbling. 

Before he could process what happened, Chris felt his back hit the floor. He yipped and watched clothes fly over his head and land around him. Chris sat up quickly and looked around the room without thinking about it. 

He recognized the washing machine and the dryer, the old bikes hanging on the wall, and the boxes with decorations inside. “I’m home!” Chris shouted as he bounced up and dusted himself off.

The Clock 

My name is John. I want a written account of what I saw and when I saw it because I believe something horrible will happen to me. If you’re reading this and have any help, please help me. 

These are the events, as I remember them, leading up to Friday. 

Wednesday

“Happy nineteenth birthday!” My mother Anne shouted as I came downstairs. I had just woken up from a series of horrible nightmares, so seeing her face first thing in the morning was a welcomed surprise. 

I won the lottery a few months ago and used that money to move back in with my parents. I paid off their house, and it’s been like we’re all living on cloud nine. With all the money left over, I could move out whenever I wanted, but something about being close to family felt right. 

As I moved down the stairs, I scanned the living room for my father. He wasn’t in front of the TV like he is every morning.

“He went to the thrift store.” My mom sighed as she waved her hand back and forth. She hated it when he went to that store. As far as she was concerned, he always came back with junk. “Well, at least he decided to leave the house.” I shrugged. My father wasn’t happy when he heard I had paid off their house. He always felt like it was his responsibility to do it. We had a small argument about it the day after they got the news. I told him I wanted to repay all the good things he did for me, but he wasn’t hearing it. 

My father can be a tough nut to crack. He couldn’t understand why I wanted to continue working after winning my money or why I never dated again after my last girlfriend passed. Everything with him leads to an argument. If going to the thrift store brings him some joy, I welcome him leaving. 

My dad was gone for about five hours, and during that time, my mom and I made dinner, put some food away for my father, and had a couple of snacks while watching TV. Everything was fine until my father pulled into the driveway. The tires screeched as he slammed on his brakes; he was at the front door within seconds. “John! Come help me move this item into the house.” He demanded. His voice carried across the whole house. Whenever he gets this loud, my mom can’t help but sigh. 

As I walked over to my father and followed him out of the front door, I paused on the steps. A huge clock was sitting in the bed of his truck! The thing was massive and honestly beautiful. I know my mom wouldn't be able to call the clock junk. The thing looked brand new! “Dad, how much did this thing cost?!” I exclaimed as I helped him unload the clock and bring it inside the house. 

“$100!” My father grinned. 

It sounded way too good to be true. My mom thought so, too, when we told her the price. But, after getting everything set up and cleaned up, the clock was working just fine. The grandfather clock had symbols carved all over the sides of it. The marks looked like they were part of the original design of the clock. Sitting at the top of the clock was a wooden lion's head. 

For the rest of the night, my dad told us how he got the clock for such a steal. The pawn shop was going out of business, and the clock was one of the last items they had in stock. After talking for a few more hours, we all rested upstairs. 

Thursday → Mostly 

I slept through Thursday. It felt like I was stuck in a dream. 

In my dream, I was walking down a long white hallway with doors on both sides of me, but everything was locked. The doors had no numbers or names on them. There was nothing I could do to tell any of the doors apart. In my head, it felt like I was walking for days. Once I noticed my feet dragging on the carpet, I looked down. The carpet had a triangle pattern, and each triangle was pointing forward. At one point, I wanted to turn around and head backward, but something was pulling me along. 

As I continued forward eventually, I could hear humming.

“Hello?” I called into the darkness. 

“I’m here. Step forward.” A woman said back to me. Her voice was so calming to listen to; the best way I can describe it is she sounded so ethereal. 

I kept walking forward before arriving at my living room. “Who are you?” I asked her softly. I felt like an intruder. Like I was interrupting her day. 

“My name is Cleo. I apologize for scaring you, but I had to meet you. We had to talk.” Cleo said as she stood to meet me. She was wearing a long black dress with a huge black cloak. The only thing I could see of her body were her white arms.

“Why did you have to talk to me?” I asked her. 

“Because something will kill your family tonight if you don’t wake up and get rid of the clock. Something evil is coming, and you're not prepared. No one is.” Cleo told me. 

“We are going to be attacked by a clock?” I asked her. 

“No. Something attached itself to the clock. Something big is coming.” Cleo clarified. 

It felt like I was looking at her for days. Like time was moving slowly and only got slower as we stood there. But I couldn’t ask her more questions. My mouth wouldn't move. 

I woke up later covered in sweat. It was approaching midnight, and I had no idea what to make of things. But I didn’t have much time to process it before I could hear my father screaming from downstairs. I have never heard him or anyone scream like that before. 

Midnight → Friday 

I jolted out of bed and grabbed the baseball bat next to my door before running towards the stairs. As my foot hit the top step, I felt my body fly forward. I slipped on something. As my shoulder hit the ground and I slid sideways, I felt my head slam off of the door behind me. There was something wet under my body. 

I slowly opened my eyes. Sitting in front of me was my mom's dismembered head. Her jaw was ripped open, most of it lying on the floor. Her eyes were rolled back, and some of her hair was missing. I screamed before scrambling to pull myself off the ground. I was hearing static. Nothing was real. It had to be part of my dream. The stairs were covered in blood. 

“Dad?” I managed to call out.

That’s when I heard it—the clicking. 

I slowly moved on the balls of my feet and walked as slowly as I could to the living room. The clock was open! A black “mist” came from the inside of the clock. I turned my attention to the couch where the clicking was coming from. 

Slowly, something began to rise from the couch. It had my father's severed head in its hands. When our eyes met, the creature dropped my father's tongue. The beast had the outward appearance of a human but with bigger hands and longer fingers. Its eyes were bright white. When it saw me, its face opened down the middle. I still remember the cracking and pulling. That sound will be with me until the day I die. 

When its face was done opening, I was met with rows of sharp teeth, a long tongue, and what looked like a smaller set of eyes in the thing's mouth. I turned and ripped open the front door, barreling down the stairs and into the front yard.

The living room window shattered behind me. I turned to look over my shoulder. The creature was following me! It briefly ran on its back legs before crouching and running on all fours. I took a sharp right turn and ran into the water. We live on a lake, and I hoped this beast couldn’t swim. 

I watched as it approached the edge of the water. It didn’t follow me, though. I swam out as far as I could while still keeping the creature in my line of sight. That’s when three black trucks came barreling down our street and onto the grass. I watched two men shoot at the creature while four others ran into my house. I took this opportunity to turn around and swim away. 

I managed to make it to the other side of the lake before stopping to rest. I checked my pockets to see if I had my phone. Luckily, I had my wallet. My cash was completely drenched, but I used my debit card to buy a prepaid phone and create this post. I haven't returned to my house yet, and I don’t think I ever will. 

I haven’t had a good night's sleep in months. Every time I close my eyes I can hear something breathing in my ear. 

At first, I thought it was me breathing loudly, but the sound kept going even when I tried to hold my breath. But the breathing continued; I could feel the warm breath entering my ear. It was torturous, and I didn’t dare open my eyes. 

When I woke up, there was never anything there. No marks on the carpet, and nothing in my bed. I assumed for a while everything was in my head. 

As the days went on the feeling of having to sleep became agonizing for me. I tried to sleep on the couch but the breathing was still there. I tried to sleep in my car but the breathing was still there. 

One night while I was trying to sleep, I woke up to something moist hitting my ear. My hands clenched, and I tried to will myself to stay asleep. I could’ve too, if I didn’t feel teeth grazing my neck. 

I jumped out of bed and turned to see what was waiting for me, and there I saw him. A skinless, flesh man has been breathing on me for weeks. His eyes looked hollow; he was missing all of his skin but wasn’t breathing. His fingernails came out to long points. 

Spectrals Megaverse is a collection of my universes.

You can do this. Chris thought as he opened the basement door. His body was shaking. His parents have accepted that he will never go down here, but he wanted today to be different. He lifted the laundry basket and held it to his chest as he descended the stairs.

“Only twenty steps to go,” Chris said aloud, counting each step. The closer he got to twenty, the more relaxed he began to feel. Once he hit sixteen, Chris stopped moving forward and scanned the walls. Something was different, he couldn't see the floor, and the walls didn't have his family photos.

“What?” Chris turned back and looked for the door. He couldn't see it. The only light in the staircase was coming from the overhead bulb. I must be going crazy. He decided he imagined this whole scenario.

“Seventeen,” Chris said aloud as he took another step, convinced the floor would come into view when he hit twenty.

“Eighteen.” He mumbled as he looked back for the door. Chris was convinced his mind was playing tricks on him.

“Nineteen.” Chris paused because there were more than twenty stairs. He began to speed walk down the rest and didn't bother to count anymore. “Help!” He screamed as he kept moving down; it couldn't go on forever.

“Hel-” Chris was cut off when he took another step. Tripping over his feet, he fell forward and hit the cement. His body ached, and the dirty clothes flew all over the room as he hit the ground. Chris could quickly scan the room before he heard a door creak open.

When my mother and father left, my parents told me to keep the door locked; they were very clear. No one is allowed to come in, and I cannot go out. They left on Friday, and it’s now Sunday. I haven't heard from them since.

Kelsey looked up from her notebook, nearly jumping out of her skin when the doorbell rang. She slowly rose from her chair and placed her small book in her pocket. If the bell goes off, go up to the attic and wait it out.

The bell rang again.

Kelsey shook her head and made her way to the attic. It was no issue getting up there, though she had trouble keeping quiet. Once upstairs, she closed the hatch and sat down on the sofa. Their family had just renovated the attic, so being up here isn’t too uncomfortable.

The bell rang again.

The bell is ringing now. Whoever it is has been very persistent. I followed directions and went to the attic.

They will go away: She told herself repeatedly, but something didn’t sit right. Kelsey listened as the bell rang again and again. Eventually, a man spoke to her, “Kelsey! It’s uncle Ryan!” She had to rack her brain to remember the name. She reached up and pinched the bridge of her nose. Why does it hurt when I try to remember you?

“I’m coming in!” Ryan shouted before Kelsey could hear pounding on the door. Her heart was racing. I know what to do. If they come for me, I’m supposed to fight! I have to fight! Kelsey rushed around the room before settling on a lap. She clutched it as tight as she could and hid behind the couch.

It felt like hours; she listened as doors opened and closed. She could hear movement in the hallway multiple times, and eventually, the movement stopped. “Kelsey, I need you to try and remember me. This is probably scary, but I need you to work with me.” No way. Go away. Kelsey bit her lip as she sat still. Memories slowly started coming back: Uncle Ryan used to pick her up from school. He was her father’s best friend; they did everything together. “Oh my god, you're my father's brother.”

Kelsey stood and let the lamp hit the floor. She opened the hatch as quickly as possible but didn’t go down yet. “Let me see your face.” She softly called into the hallway. Ryan moved around the ladder, “Thank god you're alive. Do you remember me?” She focused on his face, and after a moment, tears slowly slid down her cheeks. “How did I forget you? How did you get here?” Kelsey asked as she descended the ladder.

“We can’t be here when your parents return. I’m asking you to trust me, Kelsey. I will explain everything on the way back to the city.” Ryan looked down at the crying girl.

“My head is killing me,” Kelsey mumbled. What the hell is going on? Despite her worries, she decided to trust Ryan, and they left the house together.