My Sister Was Murdered And She Won’t Shut Up About It

The Sallow Man

“Have you ever heard of The Sallow Man?”, That’s what Timmy Morrison asked me in seventh grade. Timmy was my best friend. We did nearly everything together. It was Friday, and we were sitting in lunch period discussing what we were going to do when he came over to stay the night after school. “No, what the hell is that?” I asked him, rolling my eyes because I figured this was going to be another one of Timmy’s story’s that his sister told him. Timmy’s face put on that he’d always put on when he was talking about something that someone hadn’t heard of before. “My sister told me about him, she said he comes to you if you say some words in front of a mirror, I don’t remember it all but I wrote down what she told me. I figured we could try it out at your house.” I rolled my eyes to make it seem like I thought it was childish, but in truth I was interested. Creepy stuff like that always interested me, even though I knew it wasn’t real, I just liked hearing the stories. I didn’t want Timmy to know that I wanted to hear about it though, because then he’d just have something to be smug about. “Is this just more of that ‘Bloody Mary’ crap where she just comes out of the mirror to kill you?” I asked him, pretending to pay attention more to my mashed potatoes than the conversation. “NO! The Sallow Man comes out of the mirror after you recite his poem, then he kills anyone you ask him to, that’s what my sister said anyway.”, Timmy said as he turned to eat at his own tray. ‘There was a poem involved?’ I thought. Now, I really did have to know more. “What do you mean, what poem?” I asked him. Timmy lazily reached into one of his many folders that he carried around for school and pulled out a piece of paper that was a bit crinkled. He slid it over to me on the cafeteria table, and I examined it without picking it up. This is what it read. In dark halls within the after, From those halls you hear my laughter. Dark thoughts entreat your mind, To for now break down my bind. I will take what ails you in this land, And I will leave no trace, for I am Sallow Man. I nearly laughed as I read the last lines. I was up for anything spooky sure, but this was really corny. “Timmy, you don’t really believe this crap do you? Your sister was probably just messing with you.” Timmy didn’t say anything at first, he just concentrated on his tray for a moment, then he said, “Brandon, do you remember last year when my parents were fighting a lot? My Dad was drinking all the time and I stayed over at your house nearly every night for a while?” Of course I remembered that, Timmy WAS over at my house every night. My parents allowed it because they knew what was going on. It was a small town, everyone did. “Yeah Tim, I remember.” I said, the mood now solemn. “My Dad hit my Mom a lot, and whenever me or my sister was home he would call me a bastard and he would call my sister a whore. It was a nightmare.” I could sense Timmy’s gaze turn towards me so I looked up from my tray as well. He stared at me for a moment, waiting for me to say something, so I did. “I thought your Dad stopped drinking though, and everything was okay?” I asked, trying to lighten the mood a bit. Timmy responded then, with anger starting to edge into his voice. “Yeah, he stopped drinking, but nothing got better. Sure he stopped hitting Mom, but she barely speaks to him or anyone else in the house anymore. I know it’s because of him, I know she’s still afraid of him.” I was a bit shocked, Timmy had never mentioned anything about that before. I just figured once Timmy started staying at his house again everything was fine. “So what, are you going to sic the Sallow Man on your Dad? Timmy that’s nuts. It’s just some story that your sister probably heard from one of the other seniors.” I told him. “But what if there’s a chance it would work? I need to try Brandon, but I want you to be with me.” Timmy looked dead serious. “I don’t know Tim; it just seems silly” I told him. “Please Brandon, I need you there, please.” Timmy gave me a look of pure desperation, and I felt sorry for him. I decided that I’d be there to support him. He lived in a broken home, and he was grasping at straws. I knew it couldn’t be good for him, but he was my best friend, what choice did I have? “Okay Tim, I got your back. Let’s summon a ghost.” The next thing I knew, it was after school, and Timmy and I had locked ourselves in my small downstairs bathroom at home. “Do the lights need to be off or anything?” I asked. “No, at least I don’t think so. I think all I have to do is recite the poem in front of the mirror, and then he appears.” Timmy pulled out the piece of paper with the poem on it that he had in his back pocket, then cleared his throat. I stood back and leaned against the wall with my arms crossed. Usually when people did this sort of thing it was in the dark, maybe with a lit candle or two. But the lights were on, and the floral wall paper that was all around my bathroom didn’t exactly inspire fear, so I felt pretty stupid in that bathroom with Timmy. I was just thankful Mom and Dad were still at work so they didn’t catch us and wonder what was wrong with their son. Timmy finally began to speak after what seemed like minutes. “In dark halls within the after, From those halls you hear my laughter. Dark thoughts entreat your mind, To for now break down my bind. I will take what ails you in this land, And I will leave no trace, for I am Sallow Man.” Timmy spoke loudly and clearly. When he finished, he held his breath, waiting for something to happen. At that point I was absolutely convinced Timmy was wasting his time, I sighed and closed my eyes waiting for him to realize the same thing. I heard him gasp, which I took to be a sound of defeat. I opened my eyes and was about to console Timmy, but then I saw the real reason he had made a sound. When I opened up my eyes, I saw the mirror no longer showed our reflections, but a long dark hallway. The hallway’s floor, walls, and even its ceiling seemed to be moving, Undulating back and forth like the insides of some giant worm. The hallway was poorly lit by some unseen source, and at the very end of it I could see the shape of what looked like a man moving toward the mirror. For a moment, I was stuck in disbelief. I couldn’t move, I could only watch as the figure in the mirror came closer and slowly, its features became clearer and clearer. It was a man, or what seemed to be a man, bald and completely naked. His skin was a pale, sickly yellow. He was skinny, so emaciated that his jaundiced skin was taut against his skeleton, and every one of his ribs were visible. With thin and lanky legs, he walked ever closer to the mirror with a shambling gait. His long, ghoulish arms dragged his knuckles along the hall as he walked, parting the undulating floor for fleeting moment before the floor came back together. When I noticed this I squinted my eyes to try and sharpen my vision in an attempt to see what it was that was making the floor and walls quiver like they were. The cause of the moving floor became clear as they started to move from within the mirror, and out into the bathroom. Cockroaches. The insects began to spill out of the mirror and onto the sink and floor below. That was enough for me, Timmy and I had to get out of that bathroom. I reached out for Timmy’s arm and tried to pull him away, but he would not budge. He stood transfixed, his eyes glued to the mirror and the nightmare that was approaching. I tried a few more times to pull him away, shouting at him to snap out of it, but he wouldn’t move. It was if something unnatural was holding him in place, and wouldn’t let him go. I gave up, and I turned tail, hauling ass for the door. As soon as I reached the door handle, thousands of cockroaches moving impossibly fast covered the handle and immediately after the door, leaving the door obscured completely by writhing and hissing insects. I yelled, cursing and screaming as I turned around to go for the window on the other side of the bathroom. I was silenced when I was met with the sight of a room, no longer recognizable as my bathroom, but was now more reminiscent of that hallway in the mirror. The walls and ceiling was covered in insects. When I looked down, I saw that the roaches covered the floor below, making only two small spaces where my feet stood. I dared not move then, I didn’t know what would happen if I were to step on one of those bugs. I had the awful thought that if I were to move at all, the insects would strip my bones completely of flesh. I lifted my head slowly to the now dimly lit room, flashes of light would strobe here and there as the roaches crawled along the light shade on the ceiling. I could now that two yellow and gnarled hands had appeared on either side of the mirror, and I knew the Sallow Man had come. Timmy stood there, his eyes still wide, his stature still unmoved. I distinctly remember a smell then, a sickly smell that called to mind dirty bed pans, and I had to cover my mouth and nose not to gag. Still, this didn’t seem to bother Timmy what-so-ever. When the awful smell came, so did then did the Sallow Man’s head emerge from the mirror. His bald head was faced downward, and his neck stretched far into the room until his head was inches in front of Timmy’s face. A voice came then, a hissing voice that seemed to come from the insects, and echo all around the room. “Who is the one to be taken to the after?” The voice said. Timmy moved then, for the first time since he recited the poem, by smiling a wide and unnerving grin. “My Father!” Timmy said, loud and clear, as if delivering the death sentence himself. In retrospect, I suppose he was. There was a murmuring sound then, as all of the insects began to vibrate loudly. Then after a moment, the insects parted and swarmed around the wall to the left of the mirror, and a man; who I recognized to be Timmy’s father, rose from within the wall of swarming bugs. His face was pale and his eyes were wide with fear. The insects were swarming him, presumably pinning him to the wall. I’m sure he would be screaming if the cockroaches weren’t covering his mouth. “This is the one to be brought into the after?” That awful hissing echo came again, entreating an answer from Timmy, and without breaking his grin Timmy said. “Yes!” As if heeding the call of Timmy’s word, the insects then began swarming into Timmy’s father’s mouth. His eyes showed his desperate fear as thousands of cockroaches began eating him from the inside out. I would say it was gruesome, but the insects were quick with their work. They devoured every bit of Timmy’s father within seconds, leaving nothing left. Had my eyes not been glued to what was happening I might have blinked, and I would have missed it. I looked back to Timmy, who had a satisfied and almost, relieved looks on his face. But his look soon became one of terror as the Sallow Man spoke once more. “Now, you will join me in the after, boy. Such is the price to be paid.” Timmy didn’t move at all, save for the horrified shock that crawled over his face. I don’t know if it was terror that kept him in place, or if it was the Sallow Man. But Jesus Christ, I wish I didn’t see what happened next. The Sallow Man lifted his head slowly, revealing a face that had no features. No eyes, no nose, and no discernable marks what so ever as far as I could tell. The only thing there was a mouth. The Sallow Mans lips, like the rest of him, were stretched tight, making his human-like and yellow teeth seem bigger than they were. Stunned into helplessness by my own fear, I could do nothing but watch as the Sallow Man’s jaw unhinged and stretched to an impossible size. He then reached for Timmy and grabbed him, picking him up just as easy as if he weighed nothing at all. The Sallow Man then shoved Timmy into his mouth whole. Just like that, gone. Impossibly, my best friend was thrown into that awful ghoul’s throat. I didn’t even hear Timmy scream as the thing swallowed him. Tears were falling from my eyes freely as the Sallow Man closed his maw and turned his attention toward me as the insects began to retreat into the mirror behind him. Just before the Sallow Man disappeared behind the mirror, he smiled at me. I could feel his eyes, eyes that he did not have, burn into me. A buzzing sound filled my ears then, and I began to faint. Just before I hit the ground, I saw the Sallow Man duck his head back into the mirror and disappear. My Mother arrived home from work at around four o’ clock, and she found me on the bathroom floor passed out with the door closed. When Mom woke me up, my head was hazy, and it took me a moment to recall what had happened, and it was hard to think with Mom asking over and over if I was okay. But when I remembered I became frantic, telling her something had happened to Timmy, and he disappeared, but I left out the part about the Sallow Man. My Mother looked at me like I was crazy. “Who’s Timmy, dear?” She asked with a raised eyebrow. “Mom you know Timmy, he’s my best friend!” I yelled. “Oh you made a new friend, what do you mean he disappeared?” I started to tell her that Timmy had been my best friend all my life, I was going to tell her that he had stayed over almost all of last year. But a sinking feeling in my stomach stopped me, and I pushed passed my Mother to the house phone. I was going to make a call to confirm my suspicion, but I hoped on hope I was wrong. I dialed Timmy’s number, and his Mother answered. “Hello?” I took in a deep breath and asked. “Hello, is Timmy there?” I asked. “I don’t know any Timmy, maybe you have the wrong number sweetie?” Timmy’s Mother sounded much happier than I ever had heard her before, it wasn’t enough to stop the tears from forming in my eyes, but it did prompt the next question I asked. “Are you married?” I asked, knowing how silly it sounded, but I had to know. “No, but I don’t see how that’s any of your business, does your Mother know you’re using the phone?” I didn’t reply, I just hung up. I turned and went up into my room, I dodged all my Mom’s questions and I went straight to bed. As I lie there, I thought hard about everything that had happened. I wondered if Timmy would want things this way. It was clear from the look of terror on his face, that he had no idea he would have to pay such a heavy cost. I wondered if his Timmy’s sister knew about that part of the deal, if she left it out on purpose, or if she just didn’t think it mattered, because after all it was just a stupid poem. But the biggest question that I kept asking myself, was Timmy still alive? I saw that thing swallow him whole, but was it possible in whatever world he was in, that he was still there with the Sallow Man? I hoped not, but hopes or not, I got my answer when Monday morning came. In class, all I could do was stare at Timmy’s empty seat, and it was making me sick thinking about it. I asked my teacher if I could use the restroom, and was excused. I went straight to the sink once I made my way to the bathroom and turned on the tap. I turned the hot water on all the way, and began to splash water into my face. When I was done, dried myself with paper towel, and my eyes met the now fogged-up bathroom mirror. There, in the condensation, were three words. ‘HELP ME BRANDON’

Love (creepypasta)

This is not meant to scare anyone. Calling it a creepy story would be a bit of an insult, because it isn’t one. This is an expression of gratitude toward a friend, a friend who was always there for me. He watched over me as I was growing up and was the best friend any kid could ever have. Even if I didn’t recognize it at the time. He was always there, even though I couldn’t see him, and he was always acting in my best interests, even if I couldn’t understand. I’d like to take some time to share with you our story, because if you’re lucky, you might have a friend like this too. I think I should let you read his letter first. In May of 2010, I bought a new computer and took my old one to the shop to have everything backed up. I’d brought the new computer home and had begun restoring my files from my portable hard drive and reinstalling programs when I noticed that there was a file in the Misc. folder that the shop’s technician had created for files with no other place. It was called HappyBirthdayBaby.txt. Initially I thought it was a message my mom had written for me that I’d never read as intended, but I opened it, and this is what I found: You might find this one day… I’m not great at this computer stuff, but I’ve watched you tinkering with this machine lately, and I think I know how to save this so that you’ll find it. Seeing as it’s time for me to go, I want to leave you this last little message. I know you never met your father, but to me he was Col. Marcus Andrew Stadtfleld, as I’m sure your mother told you. He was a good man, one with the pride of a lion, the strength of a bear and a heart of pure gold. Truth is, I was almost like his son long before you were born. I was his second in command and served with him for three years. I watched as your mother wept when she heard the news, her belly swollen with your soon-to-be debut into this world, and I stayed with her every second of every day. That was, until the day you came into the world- then my focus shifted to you. I watched as they cleaned you and handed you to your mother, and she seemed to look right at me with a knowing eye as I stood over the both of you, almost as if she’d known along, and I’d be willing to bet my last penny she did. I’ve watched you grow and I remember everything, even the things you don’t. You always were such a happy baby and you had seemed to have inherited your father’s sense of humor. When you were getting to be four months old, you would do just about everything to hinder your mother’s attempts at changing you, laughing all the while. You were a wild one at heart, just as you are today. Just like Marcus. When you were about six months old we would play all the time. We had one game in particular, where I would grab your toes and tickle your belly. You would love it, though when your mother came in l’d have to stop, and it always perplexed her as to why you’d abruptly start crying- after a while, she seemed to think you didn’t like her, which is when I realized that I had to back away some. When you were one year old you seemed to develop a sixth sense for me and although you couldn’t really see me so much or so well anymore, you knew I was there. I couldn’t play with you as much as before because I knew it would only hurt you in the long run, but I always kept guard. I knew you remembered seeing me because you had a way of testing my presence, you’d throw toys into the corner where I stood and then wait to see if I would play with them. Now, I know you won’t remember this, but once you threw a bear and a ragdoll at me, and because your mother was busy in the kitchen making dinner, I kept you entertained by putting on a little show. It was nothing special, I just made them dance a little. You were laughing loudly and your mom came in to see what was so funny, but when she saw, she wasn’t laughing. I bet you could mention the bear and ragdoll dance even today and the colour would run right out of her cheeks, but do me a favor and don’t. I think it would be kinder to ask if you ever threw the toys into the corner, that isn’t quite as bad a memory for her as the dancing is. Do you remember your first word? I do… “Love.” Hahah. your mother made damned well sure you knew just how much you were cherished by her, every moment of every day and she would always say, “Love you baby…” I remember you tugging at my heart strings something awful once, when your mother was changing you in the bathroom this one time. You seemed to have caught my reflection in the mirror behind her, and you pointed and said Love (well, more of a wuv, but your mother knew), and she laughed and affirmed it. It was your only word for a time, but as I walked out of the reflection you started getting restless and I knew again that I had to be more stealthy. You were growing more and more every day now, and I couldn’t afford to break my promise to your father, which is why I would have to retreat yet again. I broke the rules many times to protect you, for that promise to your father was everything to me. I remember when you were three and had mastered walking, you were a regular little scout, hahah. You could never keep still- those little legs had opened up a whole new world to you and you weren’t shy at all about exploring it. One day you were with your mother in the market, and a lady with a shiny purse caught your eye. You went running after her, just as another shopper was running with her trolley in front of her, coming the other way. She didn’t spot you, and because you were running after the purse, you didn’t see her either. Breaking the rules was not allowed, but allowing you to get hurt wasn’t permittable either. By the time you noticed her it was already too late, and you fell on your bottom before you could scamper out of her way. Left without any other option, I sent that trolley flying Into the side of a freezer and as it crashed, that woman screamed blue murder, “A-A-A man in a uniform!” she screamed. You simply giggled as the crowd gathered and your mother came running. When she found you at that scene you were safe and sound, and you pointed to the trolley that had smashed the freezer window. You know what you said to her then? “Love mommy.” I was hiding by then, embarrassed to have created such a scene, though I have to admit I was laughing on the inside. As you grew and became more aware so did I, and I finally knew when I could and couldn’t intervene. Doing too much would hurt the both of us, so I chose my moments carefully. You were a smart kid, just like your father, and most of the time knew how to handle any and every situation. If there was an option, you took it, though I slipped up a few times as you were growing up, I do think I did well to keep an eye on you. It was just the little things to make your life a bit easier, things you probably won’t remember, like putting your piano music sheets into your bag at night, turning off your television when you fell asleep, pulling the sheets over you on the colder nights, sorting your drawers, setting your alarm clock, closing your windows and door… You caught me doing one or two of these things a few times, and I want to take the time now to apologize for scaring you. This one time you were doing your homework and fell asleep at your desk, so I filled In all the answers for your math quiz. You’d made such a fuss to your mother earlier about how strict the teacher was about homework and I knew you knew the answers anyway, but you suspected more than ever when you woke up and found that whole half a sheet you left incomplete was done. You were older and had forgotten that we were friends, things you saw in the media about ghosts scared you- and you had every right to be afraid. I just want to say I’m sorry. I never meant to make you cry. If only I had taken a little extra care you’d never have known. I just wanted to keep you safe and happy. As you matured you began to take form as a little lady and as such, and you began to know the evil of men. Though you had your wits about you, you were always taking stupid risks, and watching over you became a little more of a worry for me. Gradually, I had to expose myself more and more, most memorably that night when that no-good boy you brought home started putting the moves on you. Your mother was at work, he was only after one thing, and although I knew it wasn’t my place to choose for you, you were still only a baby girl, just fifteen years old… As he got on top of you and started undressing you, took his top off and began whispering those sweet nothings, your face said it all. You were scared. And when you told him to stop and he wouldn’t, and when you tried to push him off and he got angry, when he struck you and finally tried to put his hand up your skirt, all the evil I kept inside of me broke free at that moment and it was something I couldn’t control. My rage boiled over as I began to growl, the lights flickering, the TV volume rising, the doors and windows crashing open and shut. The keys on your piano began to rattle and with your fathers roar, I yelled, “Get out of the house boy!” He ran out of that room and you tried to follow, but I slammed that door in your face and wouldn’t let the handle go until your mother pulled into the driveway… I’m so sorry kid, that whole thing traumatized you for a while… You became more frightened of me than ever, having such an experience, and I knew from then on in spite of how much I loved you, we could never be friends. Not after what I’d done. Some nights you used to sit awake late into the evening, watching for me, and I’d have to sit in the darkest corner, looking right back at you, unable to reassure you that I wasn’t here to cause you harm. You used to scream, “I hate you! Get out! Leave me alone!” And just as you used to do as a toddler, you would throw things into my corner, only instead of toys for me to play with, this time it was heavy books, CD cases, anything you could get your hands on to get me to move. You used to sit in your bed watching that corner… I always felt terrible about what I did. I’d almost broken that promise to your father- but more importantly, I’d almost broken the personal promise I’d made to you. It was like that until the night you tried to make peace with me, that night you sat up in your bed and said, “If you’re here, I’m sorry, you were only trying to stop him…” I wanted to say something, but I couldn’t, even as you shuffled around nervously and called, “You’re here right? Could you show me a sign?” I wanted so badly to give you something, anything to show you I was there and that I’d heard that, but fearing that you would lose it if I did, I kept silent and just nodded, in that dark corner where you couldn’t see me.. You have to know I was never mad at you, you were just a little girl and that little prick tipped me over the edge… Promise me you’ll never do anything like that again, won’t you? It’s your eighteenth Birthday today, which is exactly why I’m writing this to you. I want to wish you a happy birthday. I’m sure your dad’s getting sick of keeping that bar stool open for me. Live a good life, try not to forget about me, and know you turned out great. Your father would be so proud of you. This letter is my present to you, and don’t you worry about the spooky corner anymore, my final order is complete. I don’t know about you, but I think this trooper deserves a drink; you sure were a handful, hahah! If you find this one day, try calling out to me. Take care, be safe, and live a happy life. Love, Lt. Ashley Gilchrist. PS. If you call out my name, call me what you used to call me as a kid, that always got me to come running. I was gobsmacked when I read this letter; everything finally made sense. All the things that happened when I was growing up. I’d always thought I was seeing things until that day when my ex-boyfriend almost raped me. I’ll be the first to admit that I was scared of him, because I didn’t understand what he was, why he was there or what he was after, but now I see that I had it all wrong. A few days after reading the letter, I asked my mom a few questions about the spooky things that happened when I was growing up. She was very nonchalant about the whole thing- until I mentioned what happened in the market. There, she stopped cleaning, set down her cloth, turned to me and smiled. “You always had a guardian angel watching over you, honey. I don’t know if it was your father or not, but who or whatever it was, it made sure nothing bad ever really happened to you.” As she turned around and began cleaning the dishes, she asked, “So I guess you met it then, right? Your spirit friend?” “Not exactly, he left something for me.” I went upstairs, brought my laptop down and showed her the letter on my computer. My mother was crying by the time she finished and she told me all about my dad’s friend… “He was a kind boy… Marc brought him home once to meet me and he had a certain thing about him. That man was as loyal as a dog to your father, he had a love and respect for him that even I was intimidated by at times… When he came to our home on leave, Marcus nearly had to order him to make himself at home, and he even had to be asked to take his uniform off. He looked up to Marcus almost like a boy looks up to his father. I don’t really know his background but I remember your father telling me that he was a good drinking partner, a fine soldier, and an invaluable friend.” She took a deep breath and choked back a few of her tears before continuing on. “They found that poor boy and your father all alone in a building that had been overrun by their enemy. They’d been out on recon, and their team got separated when they came under fire. The rest of the boys on your father’s team survived, but those two weren’t so lucky… The way they found them was peculiar,” she swallowed heavily, looked me right in the eye and said, “That boy was found on top of your father, riddled with bullets… he was shielding him right up until the moment he died. He could have gotten away but he refused to leave your injured fathers side.” With that we both burst into tears… Love. That’s exactly what he was, he was a guardian. I’d never had any reason to be afraid of him, and I’d have given anything just to tell him I was sorry and that I loved him back. I had no right to have done all those terrible things I did to him at the end, I realized, and I realized that he had loved my father so much not even death could keep him from that promise he’d mentioned in the letter. When I asked what the promise was, my mother looked at me and with tears in her eyes said, “It was made in this very house while they were setting up your room, it was just-” “No matter what happens, promise me you’ll watch over my daughter.”

New Face

There's this new face I see in mirror

It has no more tiers or fears in the eyes

No more frown that made me drown

There's a new face in town

Who's could it be

If I looked in the mirror to see

There is a change in me

There is now sun in my eyes that shine

I'm doing just fine

This is a new sign

A new start

There is no more broken heart

It is filled

All my worries have been killed

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 1‑800‑273‑TALK (8255)

National Domestic Violence Hotline: 1−800−799−7233

Crisis Text Line: Text HELLO to 741741

Trans Lifeline: US (877) 565-8860

Veterans Crisis Line: 1-800-273-8255 and Press 1

They Came with the Tide (creepypasta)

A gentle breeze pushed through the screen and tickled my short black hair against my forehead. All the windows were open, but I knew I would have to close them soon, it seemed like a down pour would start momentarily. The waves pushed and crashed against the boats and dock just outside. I began to go around closing the windows, not sure if there were any procedures I had to follow if it began rained; I had only been working here at the Marina for three days. My radio beeped and shook me from my tranced state, “Sean, you there?” I knew the rough voice anywhere, “Yeah Ron, what’s up?” Ron had never failed to surprise me. I knew just by his complexion when I saw him he was a veteran, but still, the stories he told rattled me to the core. “I’m coming in, it’s about to rain,” he grumbled in the usual gravelly voice. I chuckled to myself, it reminded me of Batman. “Alright, doors unlocked.” I set the radio down and peered out the glass door leading onto the docks. There, I saw Ron, slowly limping because of his bad knee. He had told me about the injury and said it was from a grenade but refused to go into detail. I made him and myself a cup of coffee as the rain began to come down. We both sat and I continued to look out the window, waiting for the work day to come to an end. Lately, storms had plagued this side of the bay, causing the tide to rise and bring floods. “Looks like the Marina is going under again,” Ron said breaking the silence as he glanced at the rising water. “Hopefully not too much this time,” I took a sip of the coffee, “last time it was up to our knees.” “Your knees,” he corrected me and chuckled his raspy laugh. He had always enjoyed making fun of my under average height. “Hey, at least my eyes aren’t as grey as my hair,” I grinned and we both snickered. The tide slowly rose as the day went on; Ron had decided he would cut his work day short since it was far too flooded to work on the boats. I stayed, hoping at least one customer would show up since we also sold beer and cigarettes. For a long while I stared out the window before I noticed something on the other side of the boatyard. Past the bobbing ships, I saw a man. He was kneeling beside a dead bird. I gagged thinking of bad it must smell and why this man was even near it. Slowly, he reached down and picked it up by the legs, blood trickled down its neck and dripped to the ground. I stood and walked over to the window, staring at him, disgusted, but very curious. Suddenly he snapped his head towards me, causing my legs to go limp and nearly fall backwards when I saw him. What I believed to be his face had no features, any exposed skin seemed completely out of focus. His clothes, however, were clearly visible. The polo he wore was stained a sickly green color. The longer I looked at him the more nauseous I felt. I forced myself to look away from the misty complexion. Slowly rubbing my eyes I looked back up through the window. Streams of rain snaked down the glass. The “man” and bird were gone. Not a trace that I could see was left. An open field stood all around the area they had been. The only place he could have gone was the water, which seemed to have risen an unusual amount. I instantly called Ron in a panic. He answered, clearly annoyed by my phone call on his break. “What do you want?” He grumbled. “I have no idea,” I blurted without thinking, “this guy picked up a dead bird and just ran away with it.” “Why is this problem, Sean?” There was a pause as I thought about it. Somehow, I knew it wasn’t natural and not just my mind playing tricks on me, but I sure didn’t want him thinking I was mentally insane. “See? There’s no problem. Just some weirdo,” he reassured me in a calmer tone. We both hung up and I went back to my duties, sitting in a chair and hoping I wouldn’t see that scene again. The hours passed and the rain continued to fall. There was no sign of anyone or anything so I decided to close up for the day. I grabbed my things and made my way down the aisles, setting the alarm and stepping outside. The rain pounded my head as the keys slipped around in my hand, finally making it to the door. Locking it, I began walking to my car, already soaking and in no rush. As I walked I began to slowly notice figures, all standing perfectly still with their backs to me. The same pounding feeling in my head returned, matching the rapid beats of my heart. Taking slight glances around me I counted five of them. Somehow, they hadn’t caught my attention moments ago; I failed to see them when I was locking the door. They all stood next to the ever rising tide, their ankles half submerged in the water. The clothes they wore didn’t seem to be drenched like mine were; everything about the situation unfolding bothered me. Before I knew it, I was in a full sprint across the parking lot. Water splashed my legs as I ran and clicked the button on my keychain, unlocking the doors to my car before I could grip the handle. I pushed myself into the front seat, bashing my head against the door causing the pounding feelings in my head to seem like grenades exploding. Horror fell into the pit of my stomach, and as the tide rose, they advanced—growing closer and extinguishing the feeling of safety my car provided. My breathing became strained and tears began to sting my eyes. The ignition refused my many attempts to start the car and escape whatever horrors were approaching. Opening the door, I stepped back out into the rain. I made a quick dash back to the store. Fumbling for my keys, I jammed them into the lock and swung the door open. Not thinking about the alarm, I slammed the door and hurried behind the counter. I heard the light beeps as the system prepared to scream for help, being too scared to move, I simply sat and waited. A piercingly loud alarm was raised within a mere few seconds, something accompanied it though, something I couldn’t explain. Peering out the window I saw one of the figures, hands on the sides of its head and mouth wide open. An unhuman shriek came out from between the black, glossy, jagged teeth scattered around in its mouth. I ducked back behind the counter, a legion of screaming creatures surrounding me and the tide continuing to rise. After what seemed like forever they finally stopped. Slowly, I peeked out the window once again and saw the tide, rippling from raindrops, now even higher, but without the creature. Two bright headlights approached the store and a truck came skidding to stop, none other than Ron jumped out, shotgun in hand. “What did you do this time!?” I heard him yell from outside. I pressed my fingers to my lips and hissed, “Get in here!” “I don’t know what’s going on, but if I came down here for nothing I’ll-“ I could hear the air being forced from his lungs as his body lurched forward—the same out of focus creature from earlier standing behind him. Ron stumbled a few feet before regaining his balance and swinging around, his skin clearly becoming pale as he glared at the creature. Its hand flinched as if it were about to grab Ron. Without hesitation, he fired. Pellets speckled the green polo, but the creature didn’t so much as move; the surface of its skin rippled and shimmered like water after being struck with a stone. “Run!” I screamed at him, but before the word could leave my mouth he was already in a sprint toward me, his limp greatly hindering his speed. The shotgun clattered against the pavement and the creature began its pursuit. They got so close to the store I could hear the strained gasps as Ron tried to flee inside. Again, the creature lunged at him, this time they both crashed to ground and came skidding to a stop inches in front of me. I grabbed his wrist and yanked him halfway through the door frame before a strong resistance came from his other side. A look of suppressed agony was painted on his face; the creature had grabbed him by his injured leg. A firm tug jostled one of his wrists free from my grasp. For the first time, I could see Ron with a look of true terror in his eyes, “p-please—don’t let go.” The tone of his voice shook me deeper than any of his stories ever could. There was a light pop as his leg gave way and the agony plastered on his face echoed through the Marina. I tripped and fell forward, scraping my hands as I caught myself. Ron was being dragged away when I looked up—his knee twisted at an unnatural angle. He shrieked, clawing the pavement trying to slow his decent into the water. I forced myself up off the ground and darted after him. My feet splashed through the water as I chased the duo. Ron was being dragged through the water like a heavy sack, his leg suspended in air by the creature. A light trail of red swirled in the water as the skin on his back was tore apart by the cement. The adrenalin began to wear off and I became more aware of my surroundings; water splashed against my chest and I realized just how deep I had gone into the water. Panic leaked through my body as my mind took me back ten years. I could almost remember the exact feeling as water filled my lungs; the sun became darker and more distant as my exhausted twelve year body sank to the bottom the pool. A chill ran down my spine and I forced the memory out of my mind, Ron no longer flailed about in the water. His body seemed limp and his arms floated behind him. Tearing my eyes from the scene I turned back and got out of the water as quickly as I could, retreating back into the store. The alarm had become a simple background noise; I focused more on the threats that caused it to sound in the first place. Knowing they would converge on the store I found a place to hide, two small cabinets in the furthest corner from the water seemed like my best option. I climbed in and waited—seconds, minutes, hours passed by as I sat there. The rain had slowly stopped and by what I could tell from the small crack in door nobody had come inside. My heart pounded like a drum line as I pushed my way out of the hiding spot. The moon sliced through the dissipating clouds and reflected off the now calm water. Slowly—cautiously—I made my way down the seemingly endless aisle to the door. I could already tell the tide had gone down drastically. The parking lot was how I had left it, Ron’s truck and my car were parked a short distance from the store and the shotgun lay untouched in the headlights. Making my way around the store I saw them, hundreds of the creatures making a hazy, unfocused wall along the tide. One by one they melted back into the water, their cloths going under with them. A slight feeling of relief washed over me as they and the water fell back into its usual place, though the feeling was quickly overtaken by something stronger—pure dread. Not over the fact that Ron was gone, not that everybody would never believe a single thing I tell them, but I knew I would see them again—I knew I would see Ron again. There was one thing, no matter how hard I tried, I knew I could never change—they came with the tide.

Annoying Neighbor

By reddit user conffra

I used to live in a small building downtown. One of the reasons I moved out was the bad neighborhood, including this guy in the apartment right over mine. It was a weird looking fella who mostly kept to himself. Around midnight though, there was frequently a strange noise that got on my nerves. It wasn’t loud, to be fair, but I have really light sleep so it was hard to get my eyes shut with those little bumping sounds going on and on. It reminded me of  high heels walking about, but not as loud, as if the person causing the noise was actually trying to be silent. After a few days, i realized the pattern was always the same, like a recording played over and over with random intervals in between. And that went on for the best part of an year, always the same sequence of bumps, slowly tattooed into my mind, sometimes for hours straight during the night.

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You're gorgeous!

awww thank you :D

"Never Woke Up" by Katy Towell

The Clink

It all started with a clink,

It was my 21st birthday and shot glasses clinked,

But before then I have always heard a clink,

I was 3 years old and my dad came stumbling in the door,

I had no idea what my parents were fighting for,

I heard my parents divorce was on the brink,

But I was only a toddler what was I suppose to think,

I could never understand,

But my mom and dad held my hand,

My dad came home from having a drink,

But after he passed out on the floor I heard the table clink,

I walked in the dining room door,

But found that he was passed out on the floor,

I looked at the table and saw a can,

And I put the drink in my hand,

I took a sip and it was gross,

It was only then I realized that I missed my dad the most,

I thought it was sprite,

But something just didn't taste right,

It was beer,

But I was to young to know what was clear,

It was all a clink... it was all a clink,

When I found out that you died,

All I could do is cry,

It wasn't out of anger or that things got bad.

It was that I would no longer have my dad.

Never thought I could be so sad.

Or change so much,

But it was with you that I am now out of touch.

I'm now 22 years old and all I hear is a clink,

I clean my cup in the sink that reminds me of my thoughts from last night,

But something didn't feel right,

You weren't there fixing my hair for school,

You weren't there telling me the ultimate life rule.

You died and something in me went with it,

I wish that something could fit,

But I can no longer look forward to seeing you on the street,

Or randomly see you in the local walmart where we would meet,

What could have been so bad?

That you could not reach out to anyone my lovely Dad,

What took over all of your thoughts and pain,

What drove you away from all the things that made you sane.

There's so much I want to tell you and all of the things to know that you would think,

But all I need is to start with the clink.

The clink, the clink again, we need a clink to know where your thoughts began,

What hurt you so bad, I need to know dad,

Those beautiful hazel eyes and their silent cries,

I miss laying with you and how much you showed your love in our hellos and goodbyes.